#anyway we just got to my in-laws place and I just let the cat out of their carrier so they're exploring our room now

[running-in-the-dark]

it only got worse from there!

he kept coming back. he was mean and rude to everyone every single time. he demanded we be done by 8pm. the one time he dared say that while I was around I said we are going as fast as we can, and that's it (well, he then responded that "I" should have started three weeks ago and I very sternly said that I also had to write my thesis at the same time, so I did as much as possible. that shut him up.)

like. it's fucked up to insist that we get done on Saturday at all. but especially because he has previously said it'd be fine if we needed until late February, then it became the 15th. and now suddenly the world is ending because we cannot do it in one fucking day.

well. in the end he somehow got my husband's parents to pay him a ridiculous amount of money so that we can finish by Monday. I fucking hate this guy.

going crazy here.

the landlord keeps coming in. AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN.

now he's apparently fixing the lock on the front door

like dude fuck off?? he's constantly making comments that we won't be done by 8 tonight. yeah man maybe if you keep on distracting everyone!

[thessalian]

Thess vs Shitheel Authors

I don't know who this story is going to help, but maybe it will. I know it's hard for a lot of people - Rowling's whole deal (which isn't recent but still hurts) and particularly the recent article outlining Gaiman's ... behaviour? Actions? Crimes? Gods, there's not even a word. (I won't link to the article - it's paywalled anyway - but if you want to look it up, it's on Vulture, it's titled "There Is No Safe Word" - and given my feelings about his commentary about trigger warnings in his recent anthology by the same effective title, doesn't that give me the ick - and I will warn you right now, trigger warnings are in effect if you're going to read it because it's horrifying.)

So quite some while ago, I was running Changeling: The Dreaming (old WoD Changeling, effectively) on a chat-and-forum WoD RP site. I was pretty new at it, and was building up the Changeling world in that version of London beyond the Fae Court. I came up with a Faerie Market, a pocket of the Dreaming hidden in Camden Town, and effectively run by an Eshu NPC with a bookshop. The bookshop also had sphinx-cats, a la Mirrormask, each bearing the name of an author. Those sphinx-cats would roam around the place, referencing the works of the authors whose names they bore, and generally just added some colour to the whole thing. There were a lot of them, obviously, but the two most popular at that time were the ones called Rowling and Gaiman.

Now, when Rowling came out as a massive TERF, that was bad enough. With Gaiman on top of it, you can imagine how I feel about that. It colours my memories of those days running those games, which are by and large very good memories and probably don't deserve to have the mud splashed on them that they're getting right now.

The only thing that makes me feel any better about it is the realisation that those little colour-bearing NPCs don't represent the authors themselves. They represent the things those authors wrote, and the joy they brought to so many. They exist because people loved the stories, not because they loved the people who wrote them. Maybe those little cats with human faces and eagle's wings don't have to be coloured by the actions of the humans who wrote the stories, because it was the dreams of the humans who read and loved the stories who made them real, not the direct actions of the humans themselves.

I mean, I'm not saying forgive. I'm not saying ever engage with their work again. However you need to cope with whatever emotions this brings up, I get it. But the joy you got from their stories is a part of you; the authors themselves are not. There's a piece of the author in every story, but we don't have to accept the whole author when we think about how those stories gave us joy. I hope that no one is beating themselves up over those stories being what they needed at any point in their lives. Because honestly, I cannot let either of them hurt me more than they already have by splashing sewage all over what I took from those stories. Those stories aren't them. Those stories aren't even theirs anymore. The stories are out in the world now, for anyone to do pretty much whatever they want with them that doesn't directly violate copyright law. I may not read them again (hell, I probably won't; I have my own history with that kind of sexual assault that makes even thinking about it hard for me, and not even getting into how my nonbinary ass feels whenever that TERF witch opens her mouth), but the stories mattered when I needed them.

The Dreaming has those stories now, and did the moment the first person who wasn't the author read them. It makes it a little easier for me to look back on how much those stories mattered, to see it that way. They were inspiring. They were a needed escape sometimes. They were a way to bond with new friends and old. The authors can't take that away by being shitheads.

(I would still like both of the authors to die in a sewage fire kthnxbai.)

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

More:

I worked at a place that had ballroom venues for events. Annually, Chipendale dancers had a show at this place. The amount of calls we dealt with for groping, cat-calling, lewd behavior, and general harassment toward the performers and staff was outrageous. This was at a native owned casino in the Midwest where they also had an annual powwow event at which members of rival native gangs would murder each other. Chipendale night was worse than Indian murder weekend. Anyway, they also hosted boxing events and one guy commented once on how sexy he thought the ring girl was. He was evicted for a year. The ladies who molested security staff? No evictions.

-

As a man, even in the most progressive countries, you are seen as the secondary parent to your child.

-

We aren't allowed to make fun of fat people, but it's more than acceptable to rip on guys due to their height.

-

I had a psycho ex that was trying to kick in my door, I called the cops. She left before they got there. She wrote all over my car in lipstick. The cops laughed at me and were like - you afraid of a girl? And told me they couldn't do anything about the lipstick because they didn't see her do it. I would have been in jail for the same shit.

-

I have mentioned this before.. but I have a weird work schedule that gives me several weekdays off. I would take my girls to the parks nearby, and got constant side-eyes and resentment from the haus-fraus and molly-mormon sanity groups there with their kids. I even had the cops called on me twice asking me to prove I had my own kids there.

-

wanting men that are tall is a matter of preference and can be voiced out loud and is somehow acceptable even though they have no control over it but men on the other hand can't voice their preference in any regard else they'd be cancelled for body shaming.

-

I'm older: I have only cried at a movie one time. It was the end of Braveheart. My date was turned off. Said it was "not cool". Same girl hit me for not crying when Jack went down at the end of Titanic, said it was "not cool". I decided she was not cool.

-

I’ve had multiple women make comments on my weight gain

-

The Duluth Model. It states that men are abusive in order to control and women are abusive because they are victims of abuse. Most law enforcement agencies use this model in dealing with DV cases. The creators disavowed their own work and admit it is completely biased and flawed but is still in use in the majority of the country

-

I was a tray aid (food server) at an elderly home, and I went thru a fitness phase where I lost a ton of weight and gained a lot of muscle. Nearly all of the CNA’s (young and old) would come up and grope me (rub my arms, nipples, back, etc) and talk super flirty about how good i looked. It took a few weeks for the older CNA’s to finally snap out of it and start telling the younger ones that it wasn’t right

-

If I open up and share the things weighing on my mind somehow that makes me weak and a crybaby but if I hold it all in and just “suck it up” I’m contributing to toxic masculinity and I’m an asshole.

-

When my ex-wife (of a 16 year marriage) had a year long affair before I caught her and we split up. She wanted to not tell anyone that she'd had an affair, and wanted to have an even split on custody and divorce etc. I asked her, "if I'd been cheating on you, would you have agreed to keep it a secret and still let me have 50-50 custody of our kids?" Her answer? "of course not." But like, the way she said it was like, "obviously, cuz you're a man, it's fine to tell everyone about the affair, and for the mom to get the kids." Even, when people did find out there was an affair, 90% of them thought it was me that had cheated. I never cheated on anyone. But cuz I was a guy, then obviously it was me.

-

I don't think any of my girlfriends have ever bought me flowers. I like flowers.

-

Women don’t ask for consent. I have a female acquaintance who described something they did to a man that would otherwise be considered sexual assault — but she was joking about how awkward the guy was.

-

Worked at a hotel in Edinburgh and had to wear a kilt. Cleaning staff LOVED lifting my kilt. I've rarely been out in a kilt but whenever I have been (not weddings) random women will lift it to see. I wouldn't dare lift a woman's skirt. I'm not even that attractive and assume it's much more likely to handsom guys.

-

My daughter is now 11, but when she was younger, a lot of women were surprised at how involved I was in my daughter's education, medical appts, and her life in general. There is still the double standard where it's assumed the mother is the one who knows all the details of their kids' lives. My wife had a very busy career and so we tried to evenly split all the parenting responsibilities as much as possible. It was amazing at how many places like playgrounds or fun kid stuff where it would be just my daughter and I, and it was assumed I was a single dad or more often that it was my custody time. Fortunately, my daughter looks very like me because I would sometimes get double takes from mom's to make sure I was not stealing some random kid or a pedophile.

-

Women taking advantage of a male teenager rarely get the same disgust compared to a male taking advantage of a female teenager. It's always an abuse of power and wrong no matter who does it. The double standards for this by teachers are the worst.

-

If sex with her is not that great that is my fault. If she does not enjoy sex with me that is also my fault.

-

After I and my wife separated, she took my kid and told the police, CPS, random doctors, etc that I SA'd my kid. When talking to my lawyer, CPS, police, or whoever, the first thing they would ask is if I'm paying child support and am I up to date with it. Only after I assured them that I was would they continue helping me. Now I've gained custody, she has never even bought a pencil for school but still accusing me of BS. Anytime I bring up child support with anyone it's always "we'll get to that later". Why is she allowed to be a deadbeat mom without consequences while I would possibly be in prison if I were a deadbeat dad?

-

A friend of mine is a male military spouse, no kids. You would think that the military spouse community would be so welcoming as everyone has that in common. Absolutely not, in fact he gets denied access to online support groups because he is a guy. He has 0 support. Many military spouse appreciation events don't think or care about male spouses. He just stopped trying to integrate with the other spouses, or go to events. It is really sad.

-

Women almost always refuse to acknowlege that men have any problems at all. And when they do acknowlege them, it's like "they're caused by patriarchy, so help us fight patriarchy", and it's like, "no bitch, how about you stop being an ass and have some sympathy for once in your fucking life". So many of men's problems just, don't exist or aren't worth thinking about for women. But when men behave the same way about women's problems, they're sexist.

-

In rural Africa, FGM is still a modern day practise that sees the labia and sometimes clitoris removed before the child can even stand up or give consent. This painful procedure leads to death in a small amount of cases. This is obviously disgusting. In the Western world, circumcision is still a modern day practise that sees the foreskin cut away or sometimes bitten off by an adult before the child can even stand up or give consent. This painful procedure leads to death in a small amount of cases. This is widely accepted and sometimes seen as a hate crime to oppose. How is this OK?

-

Continued:

https://www.reddit.com/r/AskMen/comments/15cto3y/men_of_reddit_what_absurd_double_standards_have/

==

One double standard that keeps coming up again and again: women's problems are caused by external societal factors ("tHe pAtRiArChY!") that society has to fix, while men's problems are caused by their own flawed internal factors that they have to fix.

She was cutting? It's because society doesn't respect or understand her and doesn't treat her right. Women are already perfect. Society has to recognize that and do better. Teach men that women are hurting.

He killed himself? He must have been fragile and too toxically macho to talk about his feelings. Men should recognize that and do better. Teach boys to cry.

[the-bar-sinister]

Deicide: Red Shift (63078 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth Chapters: 14/?

Summary: A mysterious signal is drawing ships across the Grand Line to a place called Elegia for the first ever concert by the rising star singer, Uta. Following the signal are Cross Guild and fallen emperor Shanks, the Charlotte family, the Donquixote Pirates and the shattered remnants of Law's crew, and Kid's crew, and Cavendish and Bartolomeo.

And the Straw Hats and their captain Luffy, who hasn't seen Uta since they were both little children at their idol Shanks' knee.

Perhaps this meeting was ordained by fate. Perhaps, in the end, there was only ever one tragic outcome possible.

But Luffy has other plans.

catch up here

-

"Hey! Traffy! Why'd you stop?" Luffy probably wouldn't have noticed at all, except that he nearly walked right into the back of him. Law had all but frozen—his whole body stiffened as a conflicted frown came to his face. 

"I uh…" he grabbed Luffy by the shoulders in a half turn and presented him. "Straw Hat! Remember my crew??"

The woman opposite him grinned and waved to Luffy before she looked back at Law. "You're not gonna believe it, Captain. These guys? They were talking about quitting! Shuffling back to the North Blue!"

One, a young man in a cap that covered his eyes, vaguely resembling an orca with its color and shape—he frowned. "We weren't thinking about 'quitting', we were making a strategic decision! The ship's sunk, Ikkaku." 

Luffy had occasionally found himself being put between one of his own crew and someone they were having a surprising conversation with. He was never really certain what to do when this happened, but no one had ever complained with the results, anyway, so he just went with his gut.

The people Law had put him in front of Luffy was vaguely aware were his crew. Or had been his crew? He never really got to know any of them besides Bepo very well. He let the first thing that was on his mind pop out of his mouth.

"Oh! Hey, are they joining up with Mingo too, then?"

Law dropped him so fast it was almost like he was thrown. "STRAW HAT!!!!!!!!"

Ikkaku's eyes snapped up suddenly from Law— up to Doflamingo looming in the background

"Wait wait wait wait wait—-" she held her hands up with a panicked edge to her smile. "Ain't that the guy you hated, Captain? Like—'let's abandon the crew in Zou and let them fend for themselves for a while while I try and kill him' hated? Like 'fuckin' the guy over like a ten berry hooker' hated?'. That guy???"

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," chimed in one of the voices came from behind her—another crewmate Luffy didn't recognize. 

"I'm sorry, fucking what?" another one of them demanded. 

Luffy crossed his arms, watching in case the bunch of them were pissed off enough to give Law a hard time about it. He was a little nonplussed to see that Mingo might have been thinking something similar. The gawky flamingo man leaned down toward Law.

"Would you like me to give you space to deal with this, Corazon, or shall I take care of it for you?"

"What??" Law snapped around and held his hands up. "No, Doffy! Absolutely don't 'take care of it' for me! These—I just gotta defuse this, I just—"

He was showing the same sort of panic that he'd been riddled with— well, every time that Luffy had changed the plans on him, really.

Ikkaku turned her eyes towards Doflamingo—and part of her hair twitched. Cat ears, she had a pair of grey and black cat ears twitching against the curls of her hair as she swallowed thickly 

"Look, I'm sure it's a long story, but you won't get a hard time from me, alright? I'm just…" She whipped around. "Shut up, Shachi! We're gonna figure this out!" 

"Figure it out she says!" he snapped back. "Yeah I'd like to figure it out. What gives, captain?"

Luffy followed the conversation by ear only, instead keeping an eye on Doflamingo who held up his hands and took a step backward. "All yours, Corazon."

Bepo raised his paw. "Should we um, go somewhere and talk? Kinda hard to have a conversation in the middle of the concert grounds… no, never mind… It's probably fine. Sorry…"

"Sorry he says," the other murmured with a shake of his head. "This time I think you probably should be, man!"

Ikkaku frowned deeply, and her eye started twitching as she hissed through her teeth. 

"No, no no no. He shouldn't be!" She pointed both hands folded together towards Bepo. "Let's find somewhere quiet, okay? I've got a lot of questions, and —and it ain't a good idea to do this where everyone can hear. You're both alright, yeah? This isn't some weird brainwashing thing?" 

Finally, a question Luffy felt qualified to answer. "He's not brainwashed. I made sure."

-

Law wanted to die. 

He was overjoyed—his crew was safe! They'd survived—fuck , he'd been worried and now it turned out they'd pulled themselves from the drink. 

He was full of despair—they'd found out in the worst way that they were part of the Donquixote Pirates, and it seemed like most of them were getting ready to ship back to the North Blue anyway.

And now they wouldn't stop bickering. He looked up at Bepo as they walked into a quieter part of the venue, his hands jammed in his pockets. Ikkaku at least seemed keen on adventure, if a little dubious about their current status, but the others—well. He hadn't seen Shachi and Penguin in a mood this bad in years.

He looked at Luffy for a moment. Of course he'd opened his mouth and spilled the truth all over the ground before he could come up with a convincing argument.

This was a mess. At least Doffy had gone. At least the Donquixotes weren't gonna complicate this anymore.

-

Luffy stood near Law's side. Law had wanted him to help, clearly, and there was no way he was going to let him down, even if he still wasn't quite sure what to do in the situation. At least Mingo had stayed behind. Having him around felt awkward and strange. Like when they'd had Caesar around, before he'd actually become a member of the crew.

"So uh, first of all, captain," Shachi– he was pretty sure he was Shachi?-- said as they all arranged themselves behind what seemed to be disused stage settings and giant Uta standees. "We're glad to see you alive. Everybody thought you were a goner."

"Yeah. "The man Luffy found out was called Penguin seconded with a lopsided smile. "We were heartbroken about it, it really was a blow to the crew's morale—but seeing you live and well? That's the best feeling ever."

Law laughed as he ran his hand through his hair. 'Trust me, it's mutual. I'd thought I'd lost you all for good. Knowing that ain't the case—well….it means we can work this out."

Ikkaku shimmied in her seat before she clasped her hands together again and smiled. "Y-yeah, and hey, Captain. I uh…I mean—" She frowned before she asked, "why was that Mingo guy callin' you Corazon?" 

"It's a long story, Ikkaku," Bepo said gently. "Doflamingo saved our lives."

Doflamingo saved their lives. Even though Luffy had had Law patiently explain it to him like, two hours before, it still lingered strangely on the tongue. Still, he was sure he'd forget about the strangeness soon, like when they'd become friends with Jaggy, or welcomed Robin or Franky onto the crew. Mingo was Traffy's friend now.

He hoped his other friends would be okay with that, otherwise he got the feeling Law was going to be pretty upset.

Law nodded seriously. "When we were in the drink, Doflamingo picked us up. He helped us heal up—and we had a little bit of time to work stuff out. "

Ikkaku nodded slowly. "And he's calling you Corazon becaauuuse?"

"Because I accepted a position as one of his executives, Ikkaku. What was left of the Heart Pirates are now the Corazon Army."

Ikkaku whistled low under her breath "...well I'll be damned." 

"Wait wait wait wait wait," Shachi threw up his hands. "Don't you fucking hate Doflamingo? Isn't that the whole reason we were stuck waiting for your ass on Zou for months?"

Luffy was slowly realizing that it was going to be really boring to listen to them have the same conversation with Law that he'd basically just gotten done having. He sat down on the grass and tried to get comfortable.

-

It…It made sense, in a way, didn't it?

Captain Law had been carrying this massive hate-boner for Doflamingo for ages, yeah—but the way he explained the situation made some kinda sense. 

Ikkaku hadn't heard the whole story, only bits and pieces here and there of her captain's big epic quest for revenge, but she'd heard enough, and knew her captain's hot headed nature well enough, to believe that the whole thing had been based on some tragic misunderstanding.

And he'd thought they were all dead. So when the guy he used to admire—one of the powerful former Warlords of the Sea—offered him his old, promised spot in the 'family', yeah, he agreed. Ikkaku could understand that.

The way he talked about it—it wasn't as if he lost his drive. Hell, he'd never really been Captain Ambitious, mostly trying to work under the radar with complicated schemes rather than flashy 'gonna be the pirate king' bravado. You could make a case that he'd gotten more ambition in the last few weeks than before!

And if her captain was feeling like he finally had a direction? Well—Ikkaku had always been an easy sell for the criminal lifestyle. As long as the crew was still together causing trouble, she'd be happy no matter what the name was.

Un-fucking-fortunately, she seemed to be the only one with an open mind around here. Voices had started to raise after Law's explanation, and after he heard what they'd been up to—

She looked up as Law barked out. "What I don't get is why you lot want to head back to that shithole of a sea!" 

"Uh, I donno, captain, maybe because we got our fucking asses handed to us out here?" Shachi barked back. "I'm not saying we have to go all the way back to the North Blue– I'm tempted– but hell at least in Paradise we were big fish!"

"Yeah!" Penguin nodded to the murmur of agreement. "I mean, in Paradise people respected us. Yeah— you beat an Emperor of the Sea, but let's be honest with ourselves, we couldn't do that alone! That was a freak victory!"

"It was an act of collaboration—" Law said sternly, his dark eyes focused in on them. "One that we're continuing in the New World with Cross Guild."

Ikkaku's anger prickled when their victory was diminished, they'd beaten an Emp—well, Law had, but they'd held their own against his guys! She hissed softly, even as her curiosity was piqued. Cross Guild was interesting—she'd seen the posters. A real meeting of the minds of pirates. 

"I think we did just fine in the New World," She snapped back at the others. "we just lost once." 

"Once is all it takes, Ikkaku! We almost died!"

That was when she heard Straw Hat, who had been drawing circles in the dirt, snort derisively.

Ikkaku glanced up at him with her dark eyes. Her hackles were up—phantom fur prickling and the ears that had sprouted from her devil fruit power twitching atop her head as she licked one of her fangs and gauged the kid's reaction.

"...but we didn't fuckin' die,did we?" she countered sharply. "We're still here, which means we can drag our asses out of the dirt and try again! If Law's got himself a new gang to run with, it means we've got new allies. That means we're stronger!"

"Fucking exactly," Law grumbled under his breath. "At least someone gets it." 

"Ikkaku, sorry but if I had wanted to join the Donquixote Pirates I would have just done that back in the North Blue!" Shachi snapped.

"It's not like we didn't have the opportunities, right Shachi?" Penguin ribbed him, as Ikkaku thought about throwing something at them to get them to see reason.

Law frowned. "Look, I know it's not exactly what people expected but, they're not bad people. If you give them a chance—"

"Never saw what was so bad about 'em anyway," Ikkaku muttered. "Only bashed 'em because Law felt real bad about the whole thing." 

Shachi shoved Penguin back lightly. "Yeah we did have the chance! and I didn't like 'em then! 

I'll be honest I was kinda into joining the Heart Pirates cause Law wanted to bring 'em down! They were assholes!"

"Well we're not bringing them down anymore." Law stood, and he smiled thinly "They're family, you got that? So you can either join up with me— keep in my crew, or head back to the North Blue or Paradise or whatever. Ok?" 

"Well Law, since you've already made your decision, it sounds like mine's made for me," Shachi snapped. "Because I'm not becoming a Donquixote lackey."

"I've got more pride than that," Penguin agreed, before he glanced Shachi's way. "And I ain't going anywhere that Shachi isn't."

Ikkaku did throw something at them this time—just one of the Uta standees as she stood. "come on, guys! Where's your loyalty?? I mean—so what if it's the fucking Donquixotes?? It's our captain." 

"Hey, what the hell, Ikkaku!" Shachi ducked, grimacing.

Law's jaw was set—she could see the frustration and the hurt there as he looked away with a sharp hiss of breath "whatever. Do what you'd like. I'm glad you're all okay." 

"Man this sucks!" Shachi growled. "Law, what the hell, you were our captain. If you wanted to put the Heart Pirates back together I woulda thought about it you know!"

Bepo, meanwhile, had been silent. Unlike Straw Hat who was just drawing in the dirt, Bepo had been standing behind Law, occasionally looking like he had something to say, and then shutting his mouth.

Law held his hands up. "I am putting the Heart Pirates back together. It's just—part of a larger operation. We can't do this alone, Shachi. Nobody can. That's why they've formed Cross Guild. And I'm a part of it now through Doffy's crew."

Ikkaku was a little pissed Shachi had ducked—this was bullshit. Here they had a surefire shot to get the gang back together—to rebuild from nothin', and they were freaking out because of some ass in a big pink coat? As far as she was concerned, Who cares? Maybe they just needed a good example. She grabbed her pack and her empty toolbelt and walked over to Law's side with a sharp grin "Well Captain Trafalgar. You've got my vote. I'll join the crew again."

And now the guys—the crew she'd been a part of for years now—would see they were being idiots and come over too.

Just like in the newspaper stories. 

"Man!" Shachi hooked his thumbs in his belt. "This feels like a bad fucking breakup."

Straw Hat's head suddenly turned, 180 degrees around like an owl to stare at them from where he'd been sitting off to the side with his back away from everyone.

"Maybe you shouldn't do it then! You're gonna abandon your captain? Abandon your friend? Were you ever really crew in the first place?"

"Straw Hat—" Law started, before he pressed his hand to the bridge of his nose. "Look. I know you guys had a bone to pick with Doflamingo. But—we've got bigger fish to fry. And there's still a place for you if you wanna come with."

They weren't seeing reason. They weren't realizing they were being idiots. Ikkaku was standing on the other side of the room looking at expressions that ranged from annoyed to unsure.

She felt a cold sweat on her neck. 'Were you ever really crew in the first place'....it felt like that Luffy kid must have had experience with this sort of thing. 

Luffy's dark gaze trembled with the barely restrained threat of haki, and Penguin and Shachi seemed to tremble under it.

"Well?" he demanded. "If you're going to just abandon your friend I guess don't draw it out like a bastard!"

"That's not–" Shachi grimaced. "Who's abandoning who, here!?"

"Yeah, I'd say we're the ones being abandoned," Penguin muttered. "...Captain leaves for a week and comes back a Donquixote—" 

Ikkaku stomped her foot.

"URGH!! Fuck this, fuck all of this!" She wheeled around "Captain, you've got my loyalty. I joined the fucking Heart pirates because I had nobody to turn to and you did me a good turn. You helped me become a better mechanic—and you've got me no matter what flag you sail under."

She paused and added with a tired, wry grin. "And besides, I can't leave Bepo all alone."

The little smile on Bepo's face in reply was its own reward.

"Traffy, they're gonna regret leaving." The anger and intensity crackled in Straw Hat's voice. "Do you want me to help you beat them up til they come to their senses, or let them go?"

"Let 'em go," Law murmured as he crossed his arms. "They're gonna regret it, but let 'em go. They're my crew, I formed them outta a bunch of North Blue Rejects and folks who didn't have anywhere else. Out of respect—out of love for 'em, I'm not gonna make them join something they wanna avoid. They hate the Donquixotes—fine. As long as they don't hurt the family, I'm not gonna force them to do anything. I owe 'em that much." 

Ikkaku watched Bepo's ears flick, as he began, "If you guys ever change your minds…"

"We'll know where to find you," Penguin muttered. He looked up. "Yeah. Captain. it's been a real great few years—I'll miss you guys, but I'm not following your new direction."

Ikkaku huffed sharply under her breath. What surprised and distressed her was that most of them seemed to agree. Most of them were willing to leave their captain in the lurch instead of giving him some credit that this was a choice he'd thought about before he'd made. 

-

In the end, a few of the Heart Pirates did come along, even if most of them left with the two assholes whose names Luffy had decided not to remember any more. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was battling memories of his fight with Usopp more than two years ago at Water Seven. 

It hurt to watch. The worst part perhaps was it meant he was already feeling a lot more warmly toward Mingo, who had very emphatically not abandoned Traffy. 

As the mutinous former Heart Pirates slunk away, Luffy wiped his face and stood up. The sun was setting behind the concert area, casting everything in purples and oranges.

He went over and he came up behind Law, who was talking to Bepo and Ikaku, and he laid his head against the back of Law's neck.

Law paused in what he was saying to startle briefly—only to lay his head back against Luffy. 

"Hey Straw Hat," he murmured. He sounded tired, probably sad.

Luffy wrapped his arms around Law, pressing his face up against him. He couldn't blame him for being sad. Luffy was sad, and angry, and it wasn't even his crew.

Ikkaku leaned around to look at Luffy curiously from the other side of Law "Hey, Straw Hat! Hahah—remember me, right?" 

"Not really," he admitted honestly. "But I already like you a lot."

"Ough," Ikkaku laughed as she held her hands up. "I know, I'm not the most memorable gal. But I'm glad to hear that—always liked ya, Luffy. You kept Law company all those months, I respect that."

Law snorted sharply. "You're plenty memorable. Luffy's just got a brain like a sieve." He nuzzled back against him with a fond chuckle despite how tired he sounded. "Still. I can't believe they're all gone… I mean—some of 'em it makes sense. I know some of 'em want the opportunity to find their own way, but—" 

"Maybe they'll change their minds," Bepo said, leaning on Law's other side. Luffy approved– Traffy should absolutely be surrounded by cuddles right now.

"They're being stupid," Luffy assured him. "I'm really mad."

"Yeah, Straw Hat–" Law laughed quietly. "So am I. I'm pretty pissed. Hurt, even. But stupid or not—they're doin' what they wanna do. At least they ain't fuckin' dead."

He seemed grateful, the way he leaned into both Bepo and Luffy.

Ikkaku rubbed the back of her neck as she shifted from foot to foot. Maybe she was trying to decide if she should be a part of it too. Take up the missing side.

"Yeah, I'll tell you all about it, Captain. It was a fuckin' mess…but we lived. I'd been fightin' with them for like, a week. About how we couldn't give up on findin' you and maybe getting the gang back together." 

"It sounds like a big mess," Bepo grumbled. "Thanks for trying to manage things, Ikkaku."

Eventually the woman leaned against Law's uncuddled side, huffing sharply before she gave Bepo a big smile. "Someone had to. Especially since we were missing you too, Beps."

Law chuckled, and rustled his hands through her hair, making her cat-like ears twitch. "You did your best. I shoulda known this would happen. Penguin and Shachi always hated the Donquixotes—and they have a lot of sway in the crew." 

Had she had cat ears the last time Luffy had seen her? He couldn't remember, but he had the urge to pet them, too.

… he failed to resist the urge.

"Yeah, well—they're being fuckin' limpdick cowa—" Ikkaku was in the middle of growling when he failed his attempt to resist the urge. She flushed and made a noise not unlike a purr. "Uh.."

Law seemed to notice, looking at Luffy with amusement in his eyes. "Straw Hat, you're petting my engineer." 

"She has soft ears! Has she always had those?" he asked.

Bepo chuckled. "She's got a zoan fruit, Luffy. Um– it's getting pretty dark. Should we get back to the group?"

Law nodded with a half smile. "Yeah—we should probably set up camp, get everything sorted." He looked at Luffy "hey—Straw Hat. Thanks for having my back."

Ikkaku's ears flicked against Luffy's hand as she laughed. "I can show ya the full thing sometime," she murmured. "But hey, Cap. Should I come back with you?" 

Luffy– who hadn't stopped petting her ears, blinked. "Why wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, Ikkaku, why wouldn't you?" Law asked with a sharp smile. "You're one of the few crewmates I've still got. You're comin' with me."

Ikkaku sighed with relief, before she shrugged her shoulders "I mean—he could have to see if that Doflamingo guy had an issue with it, I guess?" she sounded sheepish, like she was caught in a moment of bad self esteem. 

"Mingo?" Luffy grinned. "Traffy told me that guy's a pushover."

"Don't worry, Ikkaku." Law had a wicked smirk. "I wasn't lying to Luffy. Doffy's a complete fucking pushover when it comes to me. 'When I say jump, he asks how high', kinda thing." 

Luffy giggled and tugged them along to find the others. Maybe he'd successfully kicked the stupid out of Doflamingo in Dressrosa.

-

Smoker still couldn't fucking believe the girl who'd spent an hour singing bubbly pop music to an audience of thousands and thousands—the girl who sang about new eras and 'great changes' and a 'new genesis' and love lost over the open sea until she'd announced her second break— was actually Shanks' daughter.

He'd gone through four cigars already, puffing away at two more now as his eyes narrowed on the stage. The music was good—surprisingly, it wasn't his style but he still found himself enjoying it. Maybe it was the brass fucking balls this girl had to openly flip her middle finger at the World Government.

Maybe it was the charge of the crowd. And damn were they charged; charged enough to maybe launch into a riot when the inevitable backlash came.

He glanced at Tashigi, gauging her expression as the crowd started to disperse—to wander to side stages and campgrounds to settle in for a while.

Off to his side, Hina yawned—no surprise, this sort of party atmosphere had been going since the fucking early morning, and it was far later in the day now. 

"Three days of this seems like an awful lot, sir," Tashigi mused, cleaning her glasses on her shirt.

"Probably won't be as hectic as this every day," Smoker murmured around his cigars. "And admittedly, I think the kid's trying to prove a point."

"What? That she's got pipes for days?" Hina asked after her yawn settled. 

"Hell of a talent," Drake spoke up, turning from where he had been watching the sunset. "But no I think her point probably goes deeper than that, right, Smoker?"

Smoker nodded with a grim smile. "She's showing the world that nobody can stop her. Three uninterrupted days of this illegal music festival? She's sendin' a message to the whole world that not even the Celestial Dragons can stop her voice—this music festival stands as an active symbol of authority's weakened grip." 

"She's declaring herself a force to be reckoned with," Drake agreed. "On the order of any pirate emperor."

As they were chattering, Smoker saw the remaining crowd part, and the striking pair of Crocodile and Mihawk were striding through right toward them. It was discordant to see the two former warlords, now pirate guild masters, dressed so informally. Crocodile in beach attire, and Mihawk at least without his hat.

Smoker took the cigars from his lips with a wry smile. "A new kind of emperor, for certain." He raised a smokey salute to Crocodile. "....hey there, Croc. Took you long enough. We were expecting you to check in a lot sooner."

Hina snapped a salute with a lazy smile. "All clear, music's been great and not a marine in sight."

"That's good news at least," Crocodile growled, giving them a dismissive wave. He was chomping on his own cigar, and it was smoked most of the way down. "We have some kind of trouble going on."

"Trouble." Smoker said slowly, his eyebrow raising. "Well, are you going to tell me or are we getting cryptic?" 

"I'll give you all the information I have, Smoker," He put his hooked arm around his shoulders. "And that's that we're cut off. It's Uta on every transponder channel and we can't get a signal in or out."

Tashigi looked up with wide eyes behind her glasses. "Oh! That's unusual…"

Smoker's brow furrowed. "Most of the military channels makes sense, hell—getting it on most channels to begin with, insane as it is, I could give it if it was somehow enhanced with a devil fruit or somethin'....but blocking all signals from even getting out?" 

Crocodile nodded. "Yep. All I'm getting is feedback when I try to broadcast. We're gonna hunt up the Donquixotes and make contact. See if any of them have some useful intel. I'd have linked up with them by now but— you saw the broadcast, I'm sure."

Drake crossed his arms. "Doflamingo lurking in the background while Uta and Luffy have an eating contest certainly makes for some striking material. The fans are all a bit confused."

Hina barked out a laugh. "That's the healing power of good music?" she offered with a lopsided grin "....maybe the two of 'em made up."

Smoker shook his head. "Here's my thought, they gotta be close, right?" he bumped his shoulder against Crocodile. "see—I imagine even if they ARE gettin' on now, Doflamingo and Luffy got a lot to talk about. Meaning we find one, we find the other." 

"Exactly my thought," Crocodile agreed. "And you, particularly can get us a good look from above, Smoker. So let's find these sons of bitches and rendezvous."

Daz spoke up for the first time in a while, coming from a little way behind with some popcorn under his arm, which he offered to his captain. "You're ready to talk to Straw Hat, then?"

"At this point I don't think it fucking matters if I'm ready."

Smoker glanced sidelong at Crocodile as he crossed his arms. Crocodile's entire 'big plan' had gone up in smoke because of Straw Hat Luffy. Baroque Works, Alabasta—he'd been there to see them both fall as a Marine. They'd escaped from Impel Down together, and Crocodile had taken up spending a lot of—what Smoker expected was far from chaste—time with the former Alabastan Princess soon after.

Things weren't the worst between the guys, but he couldn't have imagined Croc was looking forward to it.

Smoker wasn't sure how he was going to face Straw Hat either. He'd been hunting the kid since the start of the Grand Line, trying time and time again to take him down from that lofty place he kept hollarin' about being King of the Pirates from.

He never succeeded. It seemed every time they ran into one another—Straw Hat treated him like an old friend he hadn't seen for a while rather than a nemesis. What was he gonna think when he found out Smoker wasn't even a fuckin' marine anymore?

"Ugh." 

[lackadaisical-tale]

Rocky’s Lackadaisical Tale - Chapter 1: Bardic Inspiration

It was the year 1927, the place: St. Louis, Missouri, in the southern part of the United States of America. The American government had placed a ban on any establishment selling liquor or any alcoholic drink publicly. But this story is not about that; not at all.

Nearing the corner of one of St. Louis's streets was the ever-lovable tabby cat, Roark "Rocky" Rickaby. His blue suit popped out against the purple and pink of the sunset that was enveloping the sky that early evening. He had been as happy-go-lucky as he'd always been, his tail swishing behind him like a very big, fluffy cattail.

Compelled by the grandeur of the scene before him, Rocky began to recite a poem as verbosely as his mannerisms would allow.

“Oh, dear Daystar! Let your beautiful smile; radiant as ever, try to reach us down here in this city of steel and smoke. Blotting out your beautiful pyre for the sanguine reds and jealous emerald isles we conspire to sully.” Rocky said, his inspiration taking hold of his mouth and holding it open for the wellspring of words.

“Oh dear, daystar! Might I apologize for taking your countenance as such, as my mortality counts off the days and daze me with the lackadaisical praise you shine upon this Rome of the West? Which blesses me with visions such as this, and hexes me to not have people hear my words, being the most gallant of inspirations or the most vicious of mockeries.”

Rocky goes in for a third verse to his spontaneous poem, only for an officer of the law to hurry the tabby in blue along his way. And so Rocky acquiesced and went right along.

“Anyways, I need to get to Mrs. Mitzy’s place and get to work. We got a buyer coming and I got to make a good impression on them all. I hope it isn’t six already.” Rocky repeated out loud to himself as he walked to the one place he worked at; and not at all by legitimate means. The speakeasy is known as “Lackadaisy”.

Meanwhile, as the sun sets and the moon draws closer to hanging over the metropolitan streets, a certain fired-furred cat, Odin-eyed Slovakian, and a young madam were all hanging out at the bar; among the other members of the crew that were there that night.

“I wonder if Rocky will be late?” Viktor bluntly grumbled out the question, cleaning the glasses that were barely getting any use from the patrons who were intimidated by his physical appearance and lack of depth perception.

Meanwhile, Freckle was reading a new book he had gotten—a collection of Arthurian stories and legends. He had recently become interested in medieval stories and tales of knights in shining armor, riding noble and gallant steeds. Coming into the room from the garage was the young party animal (despite being an animal herself), Ivy Pepper, covering the groundwork for what needed to be fixed on the automobiles used for rum-running and bootlegging, and also covered in inky, black grease.

“Well, there goes my outfit. Probably gonna have to head back home and get changed.” Ivy spoke, the empty bar carrying her voice enough for both Freckle and Viktor to hear her.

“That seems like a bad idea. You shouldn’t be going home alone. It’s late.” Viktor said, still cleaning the glasses and the bar top.

“Well, in that case…somebody ought to take me. Do you want—“

“No. Too busy. An important business deal is being done. Sedgewick and Mitzi are coming in with them. Need to “spruce” place up.” Viktor grumbled out.

“Well, alright. That leaves only one left.” Ivy said, shrugging her shoulders. “Calvin, mind coming with me home?” she asked, looking at him for a response. It took a moment, but he soon realized she was asking him.

“Oh, uh, er…me? I suppose I can, but Mitzi also wants me to stay here. Rocky’s coming and she wants me to make sure Rocky doesn’t….uh…well…” Freckle answered, his eyes darting around, his hands trying to occupy themselves.

“Fine, I’ll go it alone. I can take care of myself just fine. You both need to get out there one day, y’know? Such homebodies.” Ivy huffed, crossing her arms. She hurried to collect her things and left.

Freckle thought about what Ivy said. “…Don’t we need to be at home for us to be homebodies?” he muttered to himself.

Time passed and soon Rocky came down, with his violin case in one hand and his hat in another. “Heya! How are…we…..all….” Rocky trailed off as he looked around.

“Say, where’s Miss M? I thought she’d be here at six?” Rocky asked, pulling out a note that she gave to him, his thumb partially covering the first digit of the time. Freckle looked at the note, closing his book as he did. He goes to look at the note. Immediately, he sighs. “Rocky…take a look at the note again. And take your thumb off the writing.”

Rocky smiled at this. “Okay, sure! I can do that,” he said. He takes a look at the note and goes to read it out loud.

“Rocky Rickaby, please come to the speakeasy at 8 and—“

Rocky blue eyes widened as he realized his mistake. A faint blush of embarrassment on his cheeks, slowly tucking the note back into his coat pocket. He chuckled sheepishly. “…Oops,” he said in response.

“Yeah, oops,” Freckle said in mild frustration. “Look, just don’t do any of your usual hijinks. I usually go with it, but…Mitzi seems to think this is important. So just don’t do anything.”

Rocky noted the weird tension around Freckle, so he decided to not press any buttons. He may be eccentric, but he isn’t stupid.

“You got it, cousin! Consider that done!” Rocky said with a smile, going to take a seat in one of the speakeasy booths and practice his violin. But that wasn’t long before Rocky tried to talk to both Freckle and Viktor repeatedly, over time they both decided they needed Rocky to give them some space.

“Hey, Rocky? It’s gonna be a bit before everyone shows up. Why not go out for a bit?” Freckle suggested. Rocky was surprised by this, before nodding and going with the suggestion. He leaves his violin and goes to explore the sights near Lackadaisy.

Freckle slumps to his seat, looking at the time. It was currently 6:45 P.M. The orange-haired cat sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This is gonna be a long night, isn’t it?”

[poltergeist-coffee]

Please infodump about the college

I am favela 6 enjoyer and you know it but talk about all the ideas you have and I'll read every word and be totally normal about it

No screams for now Bec I'm currently on class and I don't have much battery left in my phone:(

Later maybe

- 🍽️

OKAY!!! SO!!! All the members on the Qsmp go to Quesadilla University who’s mascot is a silly yellow duck and a white bear affectionately (?) named Cucurucho

The Brazilian members are international students who come one semester to study there!! (Bagi comes a few semesters after the og five do because Forever and Cellbit kept talking to her about the school. Maybe her application was delayed to join) They all stay in the same dorm together because if they weren’t allowed too I think they’d set the University on fire (all six still have very…questionable pasts but they don’t talk about it lol)

Quackity introduced all the Brazilians to the English + Spanish players because they’re all in a program to help the new international students get use to being at the university/help them in any way they need.

Cellbit is a law student with a concentration in criminal law I think!! Same with Bagi I think she would be a law student (if you have more creative ideas tho feel free to let me know)

Felps is an art student, I think he’d do a lot of sculpting and has carved a massive fucking slab of marble into a perfect square by hand (hes fucking insane <33)

Tazercraft are both Science/Stem majors I think? Pac might have a focus on like chemical science though and Mike is more engineering????

Forever is a carpentry major (BUILDER!!) and minoring in Business (STONKSCRAFT!!) he’s super popular on campus btw… it’s because he’s so pretty and friendly with people like… look at him… you can’t not love him…

Cellbit runs the TTRPG/DND club on campus (their club room is right next to the Pride Center. this was not a mistake they specifically asked for that room) and the vice president is Slimecicle!! It’s a super fun and welcoming place, both of them love to scare the shit out of the new players with the role playing horrors <33 During Pride Month, Cellbit is exclusively referred too as the “Gay Master” and wears a mlm cape with a lil ace flag in it too :DD

Anyways, I mentioned they all dorm together!! Basically it has like one communal space and three smaller rooms/bedrooms (2 beds in each, last room has one bed). The communal space has a couch which can be turned into a bed and they all like to watch movies there together and destress :DD

One of the bedrooms was turned into a study room basically and Cellbit pretty much lives in there MABDHJFBAKAK he’s always studying or doing something on his laptop and the others check up on him sometimes. There have been multiple occasions where Forever was studying in there at like…4 am and Cellbit just walks in, climbs into Forever’s lap and just passes out. He’s like a cat he sleeps wherever he wants and we can’t do anything about it ://

Also if no one asks where Felps is he will just pass out in his studio inhaling clay fumes or whatever project he’s working on. He will simply vanish off the face of the planet (this is why the Brazilians all have a “family” group chat, yes Bagi got added to it even before she came to Quesadilla University)

[sasuhinasno1fan]

When it all changed - Lukadrien June 2024 Day 1

So I know I technically posted something for Day 1 of @lukadrienmonth but I had written that on my phone, the day of my college reunion when we were all walking around and doing things. I had the hardest time coming up with an idea and I thought the 9-1-1 au would work, but I actually hated it. It didn't have much Lukadrien in it and didn't really feel like it fit the prompt. I thought this went a little better. It's a Legally Blonde au and it's most based off the musical than the movie, which kinda felt fitting. I found the MTV showing of it on the day of my graduation after I got home and this is a fic I'd been working on the day of my reunion. Anyway, Emmett is more present in the musical, helping Elle with tutoring and studying, basically supporting her as she works her way into being a lawyer while also letting her support him in being a good lawyer. I thought since he'd oringally been so focused on making a good impression and doing well enough to work hard for his mom, that Elle's apperance in his life would of been the, well, start of a whole new look on life. Not to mention it being Elle's start on seeing herself as more than just her blonde hair. And as such, we get this. Hopefully you guys like this more. Start of something new

“Welcome to the hallowed halls of Harvard Law. I’m Luka Couffaine, class of the odd 5. I know how hard all of you worked to get here, so why don’t we go around the circle and introduce ourselves?”

Three years ago, Luka was sitting where these guys where, terrified that giving up music was the worst mistake of his life but after hearing how his mom almost made it through law school when she became pregnant with him and watching her stand up for herself against the ticket loving officer in France, Luka wanted to prove himself. People looked at their family, willing to break the rules and supporting each other and thought they’d never amount to anything. Luka was this close to become partner at Barbot’s firm and fully graduating as a lawyer. Being a TA was hard work, not to mention his part time jobs just so his father wouldn’t pay his loans but if he stuck to his routine, it would be ok. Everything would fall into place.

“Hi! Sorry I’m late!” a new voice yelled, interrupting Alya’s long resume of accomplishments – and possible lawsuits, how did she get away with half that stuff?

Americans considered themselves to be contained compared to all the international admissions, but this guy? The wildest thing Luka did was dye his hair blue. The blonde in front of them was dressed, quite fashionably, in pink. Somehow he managed to find a pink Harvard shirt and his newspaper boy hat was a shade of pink plaid Luka hadn’t seen before, not even from Rose. The strangest thing was the long-haired black cat tucked under his arm. Like most cats, he was boneless but not squirming an inch, tail twitching and purring loud enough Luka could hear him from where he sat

Luka didn’t know it then but, that boy was about to change his routine, his constant, his life.

Agreste, Adrien, like most of the students in his orientation group, was from France but he’d been living in the US to attend UCLA. He’d been accepted into top school in France and even Cambridge in England, but Adrien claimed he wanted a different experience. With a fashion designer father and actress mother, no one really told him no. he boasted about being the only male to be allowed in Delta Nu and was president and actually founded a charity for kids to gain an opportunity to go school despite their circumstance called Black Cats. And oh, of course, stopped Mireille Caquet from buying a ‘truly heinous tube top.’ Luka also found out –

“Wait, wait, wait. You caused the campus to close down for half an hour? Security was scrambling all over looking for someone, that was you?”

Adrien shrugged, not looking at all bothered. “Well, I thought my personal essay would be better given in person, instead of my original idea of filming it.”

“And they still let you in?” Alya asked, Prince Ali and even XY looking surprised.

“Well, they didn’t love the singing and dancing,” they didn’t like what? “But! Once I reminded him that getting the whole UCLA marching band and most of the cheer team to come help because of the type of person I saw, they decided to give me a chance. I was homeschooled until I ran away from home enough to just attend school once. I’m stubborn.”

Adrien was, something. A bit ditzy and a little naïve and focused on one girl, Kagami Tsurugi. The teachers had high hopes for her, her own father a famous graduate and when her family weren’t destroying opponents in fencing, they were running Japan as politicians. She could have looked annoyed when she saw Adrien in class with her, more so when he’d been hearing that the girl had a very jealous girlfriend ready to use her claws, but he’d heard the most surprising thing from her.

“Who is he?” Luka asked, after giving Adrien his syllabus for the class.

“My ex. Last I saw him, we were visiting family in France before Spring Break started.”

“Huh.” He said surprised. “he’s either a stalker or determined.”

“He’s actually one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. The fact my family didn’t like him was I thought the most surprising part, but clearly, I’ve underestimated him. I’m almost looking forward to seeing the look on my mother’s face.”

Most people didn’t look proud of their Exes. Not that it lasted long. Adrien had gotten kicked out of Barbot’s class for not doing the reading, putting him on Marinette’s radar to stay away from her girlfriend, which started a trend. Adrien falling behind, despite how much he seemed to be trying, snarky comments not just from Marinette but everyone who thought the boy who loved pink didn’t belong and the bright smile Adrien had slowly growing dimmer. Plagg, Adrien’s cat, was becoming more of a security blanket than the only animal brave enough to climb onto Barbot’s table and not move after being shoved to go away.

So, Luka didn’t think much of it when he found Adrien crying on a bench on campus after another late night in the library and asked what was wrong. He’ll admit, he was surprised Adrien actually admitted he came to Harvard to follow Kagami, but he was also happy to hear that he wasn’t blind to how his school life had been going.

“So, you came out here to follow a girl and Harvard Law was just part of the plan? What rich romantic planet are you from?” he asked jokingly, pushing the bunny ears further up on Adrien’s head. Luka didn’t want to look in too deep as to why Adrien was dressed as a male Playboy bunny, just thankful he decided to wear a shirt in the East Coast fall weather.

“France? Technically.”

“SO, instead of walking through Parisian streets by the Eiffel Tower, you decide to just follow a girl to an Ivy League school? That’s got to be the weirdest reason-”

“Why’d you come?”

Luka had only ever said it once, during his own orientation. Despite being born in France like Adrien, he’d lived in the States his whole life, so his group had been bigger and most of them had zoned out by the time he spoke.

“Ok.” Luka dropped his bag on the bench and tugged his jacket off, putting it on Adrien’s shoulders. “My mamman was supposed to graduate from law school, but she dropped out to have me. It wasn’t part of my grandparent’s deal with her and when she wouldn’t go back after my first year to finish, they cut her off. So, she moved us here, not wanting anything to do with my dad. She almost got back together with him, but he never changed and he just left her with my sister. Life was hard growing up, but she worked hard to give us what we need, even after my sister’s anxiety got worse and my empathic nature made it hard for me to be around people. Thing was, she’s always been a rebel, so she’s gotten into trouble with the police. Mamman was top of her class though, so she could run rings around them but enough cop cars stopping by and a concerned social worker is enough to start rumours. People thought we wouldn’t amount to anything and I was getting so tired of people saying that to the person who gave everything up to be happy. So, I was going to prove them I could follow in her footsteps and still be better than all of them. when I win my first lucrative trail and can move us back to France so she can get the houseboat she always wanted, that’s when it’ll be worth it. I got through 3 years of law school with two jobs to pay for loans, so you’ll forgive me for not weeping at your tale.”

“Excuse me, just because you have some chip on your shoulder,” Adrien started.

“Yeah, and that chip has been the thing to help me through this and makes me driven as hell. Adrien, you’ve been given a chance most people dream of so don’t waste it. in fact,” he said, standing up and pulling his bag back on his shoulder, “think about getting a chip of your own. I want my jacket back.”

He’d given advice before, helped bolster a bit of encouragement into a student, maybe no one like Adrien, but it felt like routine at this point. Nothing should have changed.

Adrien got into Harvard after dragging a marching band and cheerleaders into the admissions office. Luka was starting to learn it was nearly impossible to not get drawn into what Adrien’s world was. So much so, that he was as surprised as his mother was when he told her what he was doing.

“Did you get my package for thanksgiving?”

Luka unlocked the door to his apartment with said package under his arm, using his foot to shut the door behind him.

“Yeah. I thought you weren’t planning on sending anything.”

“Thank Rose. Got flirted by some rich kid. A prince apparently, but he got so enamoured by her, he didn’t care she was dating your sister. Something about how he’ll be back in his country with armoured cars, so might as well make all the pretty girls happy with whatever they want?”

Luka was sent back to the first day of classes when he heard those words. “What’s his name? the ‘prince’?”

“Alibaba? No, that’s a website.”

“Ali. Prince Ali. Was Rose near campus? He goes here.”

“Oh.” His mother sounded surprised, but Luka was used to Rose doing odd things. She was a ray of sunshine dating his shadow of a sister, taken in by their pirate mother. “She was looking for you actually. Wanted to ask for a book to be held at your job and you almost never answer your phone unless you call first so. Where were you Tuesday? She thought you’d be at the library or grading papers.”

“Ah. I was helping tutor someone.”

“You?”

That wasn’t an insult. Luka was a nice person who gave encouragement but he had little patience for teaching people. He tried with Juleka, who snapped at him as much as he did her and the few times he tried during school to try and get paid for it, it ended up with him being paid to do the work because he’d become short with whoever he was teaching.

“There’s this student, a freshman. He’s…different.”

“Different enough that your tutoring him?”

He hadn’t planned it. Adrien dragged him back into conversation that night by asking for advice on how he managed to do it all during his first years, not that he seemed to listen as his main focus was trying to prove he was serious. He’d been invited back to Adrien’s room – all brightly coloured can slightly covered in black cat hair – and when Adrien admitted to studying magazines more than his text books, he sort of, snapped. He thought dismantling the desk turned vanity would annoy Adrien enough that he wouldn’t even try but even with a bit of groaning, Adrien still unearthed his textbooks and let Luka help him. Instead of heading to the library after Barbot’s classes, he’d find himself with Adrien, either dragging him to the library with him, admitting defeat and going to a coffee shop on occasion or to Adrien’s room. Being at his room meant sharing the new desk space with Plagg, Adrien’s cat and quizzing Adrien as he became as addicted to Redbulls as Adrien was. Whenever Adrien had essays or readings, Luka would still find himself in the dorm room working on his own work for classes or whatever Barbot dropped in his lap for work.

He hadn’t realised he’d fallen into new habits since meeting Adrien. It probably explained why when he went to their next study session, after he convinced Adrien to skip going home for Thanksgiving, that he took the whole package his mother had sent him and pushed back their normal video call where he’d eat the food sent with them.

“What’s this?” Adrien asked pulling out the half-thawed pieces of turkey and artichoke dip.

“I know you wanted to see your friends, so I thought we should at least feast on the classics. Unless you were heading home to France and want foir gros.”

“Gross.” Adrien said, scrunching his nose. He looked a picture, dressed down in an oversized pink UCLA hoodie and pyjama pants covered in anime characters. “I hate foir gros. To be honest, I hadn’t decided where I was going. I just planned on figuring it out when I got to the airport. Oh, don’t look at me like that. We don’t celebrate thanksgiving in France but I have good memories of it. one of my older sorority sisters invited me my first year. It was a massive thing, somehow missing all the trashy drama that happens now, but they let me join in their traditions, we watched the Addams Family movies and just eat the food. France just has my family. Though, dad is paying for me to come here, even after he didn’t think I should. I know most of my family doesn’t think I’m all that serious, even after what I did just to go to school in person with people and I’d like to prove to them I am. But they still believed in me. All I had to do was ace the LSATs and all years were paid. I guess passing my first year would prove to them they made the right choice.”

“You will.” Luka promised. “Now, we can steal the oven in the kitchen to warm the food up while I quiz you on famous cases. Remember, Barbot is going to have you justify your case for your test. Think you can keep up?”

Adrien looked nervous, but like everything else – except for when he’d broken down on that bench that fall night – he looked determined.

“I can do it.”

_____________________

The crush? That started to clue in later. His mother would tease him whenever he mentioned he’d been with Adrien, which was nearly every day when he wasn’t busy. The holidays had thankfully slowed the office as many gave up high profile cases for vacations in warmer weathers but Luka filled the time off he’d been given with more shifts at his jobs, going over Adrien’s work and slowly getting Adrien to realise that his desire to get Kagami’s attention was doing more harm than good.

It had clicked for the blonde when Luka came to drop off his present. It had been a joke, the 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner, mostly to see the disgusted and horrified look on his face when Luka mentioned he used it.

“you have coloured hair! You recently coloured it too.” Luka hadn’t expected Adrien to dig his hands into his hair, messing up his bangs and causing them to fall into his eyes. “how on earth do you use that stuff and your hair is this soft?” Luka should have picked up on something when he noticed that Adrien’s hands, whenever they passed over his ears, were really soft. “You are joking right? Luka, I swear if this is what you actually use.”

Someone clearing their throat reminded them they weren’t alone. Luka pulled Adrien’s hands away to look at the guy smirking at them from Adrien’s bed. “Don’t mind me, just enjoying the show.”

“Ah. Right. Luka, this is Max. he graduated from MIT early and works at the nail salon I go to.”

“Right. With the miniature horse.”

“He’s a trained therapy animal.” Max reassured. Honestly, Luka was doing criminal and divorce law, that was not his problem. “I was helping Adrien study. I think I’ll head out though. Nice to finally meet you Luka. Adrien mentions you all the time.”

“Nothing bad!” Adrien assured as Max disappeared doing something behind Luka’s head that he barely caught. “But seriously, you were joking right?”

“Adrien?” Kagami asked, knocking on the door. The blonde ripped his wrists from Luka’s hands and smiled at his ex. “have you gotten the email from Barbot yet? I wanted to print off the reading he wants us to do to read on the plane home and I still haven’t seen anything.”

“I, uh,” Adrien giggled. “I…um?”

Luka decided to help him out. “I send the readings out. Barbot hasn’t sent me the original documents he wants. It’ll be out soon.”

Kagami seemed surprised to see him there, glancing at Adrien before nodding to herself. She looked set on something before offering her thanks and leaving, Adrien still as incoherent as he’d been when she walked in. he knew this is why Adrien wasn’t doing so well, focused on getting Kagami’s attention. Why it filled him with such hot rage, he had no clue. Watching Adrien put the pieces together and actually win his practise case was amazing, more so when Barbot seriously accepted Adrien’s resume for his internship, even printed on pink paper and scented. When Adrien was one of the 4 names, Luka couldn’t be prouder.

He could have done without him deciding to be a trustworthy lawyer to their client Clara Nightengale by keeping her alibi secret and not budging for anyone. Not even him. It somehow then evolved into Adrien dragging him shopping.

“I don’t need a new suit.” He tried protesting as the entered the department store.

“Luka,” Adrien turned, looking odd in the black suit he was in. it was the first time he wasn’t in any sort of pink. “I know you’ll find a way of winning this without Clara’s alibi or a plea deal, not to mention doing the one thing you’re trying to avoid.”

“Which is?”

“giving people what they want. Luka, come on, you became a lawyer because everyone thought you’d amount to nothing and that your mother was the same. The same woman who raised you to be a rebel and do the right thing.”

“How is clothes going to help with that?”

Adrien actually giggled and bounced in place at the question. “clothes help paint the picture. I love your jean jackets and ripped jeans and I know you’re an amazing lawyer but looking the part would be a massive help in showing what you can do. I know you’re amazing. Now we just need to show everyone else. Come on! god, I love shopping for guys!”

Since dawning the black suit, Adrien seemed to be hiding but the whole experience made him look like the naive freshman who graduated UCLA to follow a girl he’d moved on from. Silly as it sounded, it was the side of Adrien he loved. He didn’t do this, get so involved with a student that they became his best friend, that he wanted to gain their approval, that they’d be so concerned over him not going back on his morals just to gain the approval of a boss to make his life easier.

“Love? It’s the new scent from Calvin Klein.” A department associated offered.

He didn’t fall in love.

But since that first day, where Adrien rushed over to their group decked in pink and carrying Plagg, full of tales and anecdote, unwilling to give up no matter how hard, Luka’s whole life had changed. There was a new routine, a new path. That first day was the start of something new he was never expecting.

And he wouldn’t change it for the world. The things that almost made him lose him after, that he would, but considering it got Adrien back into his signature pink plus bonus heels – a sight that would never get old – he couldn’t be too upset.

[ficandkaboodle]

Robins egg blue and kitten gray for the crayola memr pls

(I’m sensing a theme here 👀)

Robin’s Egg Blue (If you were an animal, which one do you think would you be?):

I have no freaking clue. I’ve been compared to a cat before because I’m moody, prefer my own space and am weird about affection, and “carry myself in a catlike manner”. And the autism thing doesn’t help. But I asked a friend of mine what animal she thought I was and she said a hummingbird. Because I’m “small, always zipping around, and musical”. And it kinda stuck because I realized in retrospect there’s a lot of bird motifs in my life.

So I’m locking in as hummingbird I guess

Kitten gray (Do you have any pets? If so, describe them.):

Of the pets we officially own, we have two dogs: A shih tzu and a dachshund.

The shih tzu we’ve had since he was a puppy and he’s now an elderly dog. He’s a stinky little curmudgeon who’s basically our mom’s dog because he’s most attached to her (I’m second-in-command if she’s not around, though). He spends a lot of his days sleeping now.

The dachshund, we found. She was wandering the area for days when my sister caught her. We have a theory that her owners realized dachshunds are a lot of work and dumped her here. She had puppies at one point. Per her breed, she’s very nosy and hunts a lot, much to a lot of dismay but occasionally it helps out (let’s just say…2023 was a rough year… 🐭 🐁 🐀). She’s an attention whore and bullies the shih tzu out of the way if she sees you petting him. Unfortunately, she’s not doing too well lately and has bladder cancer and we think she might sprained one of her legs jumping off the couch, but we’re trying our best to help her be comfortable. We keep putting her in places and telling her to rest but she keeps getting up and trying to hobble around.

…

Now for a pick-me-up:

(The cats, we don’t technically own but according to cat owner’s law, 2.5 are mine. They’re ferals I got fixed and fed and built shelters for and they’ve all learned to meow and socialize to certain degrees.)

Monstro Mittens is a grey cat with white socks and I named him Monstro because he was a bully at first but Mom wanted to call him Mittens. He has since become a big baby who wants to be an indoor cat. He will go to all windows he can and meow loudly because he wants to be inside and I feel so bad about it 😫 He shows his affection through biting my feet and clawing at my thighs and hitting his head into my crotch when I try to sit next to him. People who see his photo think he’s gorgeous but don’t be fooled, he’s a menace!!

Ghost is a grey girl cat named because she’d pop out of nowhere when you come outside, then reappear in a totally different area when you looked away for three seconds. That, and I liked the idea of her being “a Grey Lady”. She’s the most reluctant of the bunch and has become a bully towards Monstro despite being younger than him. She’s also the chattiest. She seems to be the leader between her and her brother.

Ghoul aka Ghoulie Boy aka The Cat Known Formerly as Fiend is Ghost’s twin brother. Oddly enough, I did not think of Ghost when naming them, I swear 😭 I just liked the alliteration. Anyway, Ghoulie is a complete opposite to his sister: He’s very affectionate and curious as heck. He’s very friendly and loves rubbing up on people and is constantly purring. However, he’s also a huge glutton so I’m constantly holding him so I can make sure the others eat. He would make a lovely pet on the right house but since he and Ghost are a package deal, getting a foster or someone to adopt both may be an issue…

Dang this got away from me 😅 Thank you for asking!!

[realityremedy]

The other day my mother in law SCREAMED at my wife and I. Screamed. Literally screamed. And swore, though she denies that after the fact. For a good twenty minutes or so.

My wife knows I can't function when someone is screaming at me. I froze and my wife went back at her.

She apologized the next day saying she "should have handled it better" but this is a point of no return for me. If she wasn't my MIL *and* I was not also currently financially dependant on her, I would never speak to her again. Just for that.

She felt like she hadn't been getting any help around the house. She felt like we were leaving things for her to clean. And she felt hurt because we went to Pride while she was getting a minor procedure and felt we didn't care.

Some of that may be valid, some of it definitely is not. But I don't care because it doesn't justify screaming at us. Talk it out before it gets that bad.

Instead of screaming. Instead of stonewalling us for days. Instead of huffing angrily, slamming things, stomping around.

She also complained that she was tired of me speaking to her like she's five years old. I have spent weeks just trying to keep silent as much as possible. I just can't stand fighting. I don't feel like I'm being condescending, but it keeps making her mad. But of course I'm going to slip, and it's not always going to sound nice because I spend all day biting my tongue.

While she was screaming, she gave me a recent example of this. I was taking a hat to Pride I had made for a friend and waited a long time to give to him, since we don't go to the city often.

She asked if she could have it. I said no and explained it was for a friend and I hadn't been able to get it to him for two years.

She asked to have it anyway. I think she was joking but I was annoyed, and it was apparent in my voice when I replied, "If you want one that badly, I'll make a different one for you." And apparently that was talking to her like she was five.

I try to be cautious and self-examine because I don't want to miss something in case I'm actually at fault, but I can only conclude that in her eyes, annoyed/angry/disagreement = attitude/condescension.

In fact it's beginning to feel like if I don't perform being happy every time we talk, then I'm doing something wrong.

So now not only am I trapped with her, I can't do anything except perform happiness or at least neutrality, because I can't leave. I can't let her know I'm angry at her. I can't even effectively avoid her.

I got a few days away from her and it was magical. And now she's back. And she'll go back to screaming at the dogs and cats, which triggers me. She'll go back to being passive aggressive when things don't go her way, and get upset when people disagree with her. She'll go back to expecting everyone to read her mind and exploding at them when they don't. And I'll go back to being terrified of talking, terrified of forgetting to straighten the towel or accidentally leaving a dish somewhere.

The thing that makes it so much worse is that my mom was so similar. (More with the passive aggressiveness, less with the yelling and explosive screaming.) And when we didn't live with my MIL, we actually had a great relationship. It finally felt like I had a mother figure I felt safe and happy with. And it turns out she's the same.

Our relationship was already being slowly worn away by the slamming doors and stonewalling, but the screaming... that was it. I don't think we can unring that bell.

I don't know if that's repairable. It certainly isn't without some serious apologies that I doubt I'm ever going to get. This relationship is dead, but I have to pretend it isn't. And I don't know how long I have to do that. The amount of money we make won't afford us even a damn room in this city, or anything around us. Which is why we moved in in the first place.

I can't do anything but bide my time, potentially for years, until we can get out. I want to cry but it won't work. I feel so hopeless and trapped.

[theexistentialistshifter]

I’ve been preaching this for years, but I’m only just now active on the shifting side of tumblr, so let me make my point.

My main point is most shifters don’t take shifting seriously, and that’s why most shifters don’t shift.

You don’t know how real it is until you experience it. Fact. You can shift with doubts. Fact. But you need to be safe and secure in your beliefs that YOU can do it. That if anyone can do it it is you.

Shifting. Is. Scary. It’s fucking terrifying. But it’s also amazing. It’s endless and infinite and knows no bounds yet is also beautiful.

Take this Schrödingers cat analogy I recently came up with. In this thought experiment, a cat is considered simultaneously alive and dead while it is unobserved in a closed box with unstable gunpowder that has a 50% chance of blowing up. (yes I’m using Einstein’s version.)

The Copenhagen interpretation implies that, after a while, the cat is simultaneously alive and dead, yet when one looks in the box, one sees the cat is either alive or dead, not both alive AND dead. This theoretical concept asks the question of when exactly quantum superposition (you don’t really need to know what this means to understand my analogy) ends and reality resolves into one possibility or another.

So in this analogy or metaphor or whatever you want to call it, shifting is the cat. The scientist, the observer, is society as a whole. Philosophers, religious leaders / beliefs, non-shifters namely. People who believe in this phenomenon that we call shifting are the box. The reason I say shifting itself is the cat, is bc as the observer, (a normal person, an anti-shifter if you will), you’re not perceiving the cat (shifting), you don’t know if it’s alive, you can only theorize. (And let’s say 1/2 of the scientists conducting this experiment is 99% sure the gun powder is going to explode. They don’t even think of what would happen if it doesn’t. They don’t believe it’s a possibility. That is someone who wouldn’t give someone (a shifter) that lives multiple lives the time of day. Now the other scientist, let’s say they genuinely believe there is a 50/50 chance. They’re the one that would conduct this experiment over and over and over again. They’re coming up with new theories and wondering how this quantum superposition (the cat being both alive and dead) is possible.)

As the box itself, you get a view into both worlds. You are participating in the experiment. You are the experiment for Christ’s sake. You are watching the cat up close. You’re virtually in the same place as the cat, but you come from a man-made thing. The scientists. The disbelief. The core believe that we are the only beings out there and this is the only universe we have. Non-shifters when it comes down to it. You’ve got a foot in both worlds. You can tell when the cat is alive/dead, when the quantum superposition ends, (except it wouldn’t even start while someone is observing I know I know) and if/when the gunpowder explodes.

I came up with this exhausted as hell so I hope it makes sense. If anyone has any suggestions or questions or ideas having to do with this analogy or my pov on “shifting” in general, lmk!!!

(And yes, i guess you could also change this analogy to us as quantum travelers being the gunpowder and having a 50/50 chance to shift at all times but the scientists / experiment conductors not being aware of that, but I’m too lazy to figure out how us being the same species as non shifters would work in this hypothetical analogy.)

Anyways, my point is, nobody takes shifting serious. I want to talk about what this means for us as a society. How we can use the Law of assumption to our own benefit. I want to have the philosophical existentialism conversation intertwined with shifting. I want to talk about quantum mechanics. How this is possible. What it is. Why it happens.

And of course, one of my favorite topics besides existentialism, WHY shifting found us. Do shitty people with shitty morals get to shift? Do only good people shift? Did philosophers back in the day shift? Why? Why do we get to shift. Why do we get to experience this amazing phenomenon. WHY.

Fuck the terms cr, dr, ir, or, shifting. WE ARE LIVING MULTIPLE LIVES AND EXPERIENCES AND FRIENDSHIPS AND LOVE AND LOSSES IN ONE LIFETIME.

Yk, I'm beginning to understand why the general consensus about shifting is so trivialised in the mainstream. I mean, look at the most popular information known about us, and it's just young people shifting to hogwarts to be with draco and making storytimes about how he pushed them off the stairs that one time. The most popular forms of shifting are treating it as some sort of self insert fanfiction, when it's really so much more than that. I mean, we're literally multiversal traversers, and yet I see no discussions of some of life's biggest mysteries and vices in this community, especially in this section of it. We literally have the ability to discover the cure for cancer and so many other incurable diseases, discover information that could advance our society beyond our imagination, and yet I see no one doing such.

Such a practice should lead to so many discussions about the multiverse and the possible things it may contain, aswell as all the things previously seen as impossible (the anon talking about hows theres no talk about god/afterlife brought up the fact that physical multidimensional travel would he possible with there being realities where that is possible comss to mind), and I really don't see these things happening.

This is not to shame anyone who enjoys treating it as self insert fanfiction or any shifter who isn't interested in these questions.

.

[moonmeg]

The confession to Cat's parents could've been an individual comic but I quite frankly didn't want to make it one because it would've been a multiple parter again and time consuming so... what does an artist do when they don't want to draw something out? Write it out.

At least attempt to. I really wouldn't call myself a writer despite any positive feedback I got or get lol

Anyway, have fun reading ig

"Human! That... that sure is news.", Mr. Clawthorne rubbed his forehead perplexed.

Just yesterday he thought Caleb and his brother, who both were living in his house for months were a special kind of witches. However, Caleb had just revealed to him and Mrs. Clawthorne that it was a lie.

Mrs. Clawthorne, sitting next to her husband, held her hand to her mouth. She stared at Caleb in disbelief.

The young blonde man sat on a cushioned stool in front of them. His head hung low in shame and he was fidgeting with his hands. He was unable to look the Clawthornes in their eyes, similar to how the night before he avoided his fiancée's eyes and was still having trouble with that. He was never a person to lie for this exact reason. He hated disappointed and shocked looks of those he cares about. He hated hurting people, regardless in what way. With his lie he hurt the people that were ready to accept him into their family, the people that actually cared about him.

"I'm more shocked about the witch hunter news...", Mrs. Clawthorne said, keeping her stare of disbelief.

"You have every right to be, Mrs. Clawthorne. Believe me when I say I dispise myself for what I once was. But I assure you I'm not here as witch hunter any longer. I don't intend any harm! I've changed. With every new day I spent here in the demon realm I realized more and more that we humans are wrong. We're wrong about witches and magic. I was wrong about witches and magic. You are good people. I'd go as far as to say you're better people than humans could ever be. At least the humans I know. I've never met more kind people with such hospitality and... if I'm honest I lost the feeling of home towards the human realm. Ever since you took us in and the more time I spent with you, the Boiling Isles feel more like home to me than earth ever did.", Caleb looked at the married couple with guilt and regret written all over his expression. His vision slowly started to blur again.

Catherine noticed her betrothed's eyes becoming glassy again and his emotional state worsening like the night before on the porch. Wordlessly she reached for his hand and gave it a light squeeze to reassure him he's not alone. Everything will be alright, she knew.

Caleb paused and took a deep breath to gather himself again. "I know I hurt and upset you with my lie. I know you will need time to process all this. And I'm sorry for what I've done.", he continued with a lightly shaking voice.

The faces of madness and hurt on the Clawthornes' eased a little but never truly disappeared throughout this conversation.

"I... I ask for your forgiveness.", Caleb looked at the couple before his sight fell to the floor, searching for a point to focus on, without success. "I understand if you can't do that though. And I understand if you take your blessings back. I understand if you don't want me or can't have me as your son-in-law now. Even if Catherine and I kept the engagement, if you do not want her to marry someone with such past, possibly even start family of her own with someone like that... I understand and I won't go against your decision. I'll leave and will never bother you or Catherine again.", he let his head hang again. He loved Catherine and he wanted to be with her. He wanted to be her husband, he wanted a family with her, be by her side for now and eternity. The possibility of actually breaking off the engagement and losing the woman he loves was a painful and heartbreaking thought to him.

Catherine gave him a pitying look, tightened her hold on his hand and placed her other hand on top, slowly caressing her thumb over his knuckles and the back of his hand.

"Let's not get that radical, Caleb.", Mrs. Clawthorne tried to take away Caleb's fears with her reply.

The room was silent as Silvia paused and carefully watched Caleb's reactions. Despite how angry she was about the lie, he grew on to her and she did not want to hurt him now.

After a sigh she continued with a steady voice that had a serious and mad undertone: 'I think I speak for the both of us if I say that we're mad. Very mad. The fact two witch hunters lived in our house is... shocking is not even nearly describing it. I hope you know that this story, this lie, has damaged our trust in you. You will have to regain it and you will not marry Cathy until it's regained and we've processed this whole thing."

Caleb gave a little nod, still not truly able to look the Clawthornes in thwir eyes. Of course they wouldn't just forgive and trust him again.

"But, you also have our respect and gratitude. You could have continued to live this lie. But instead you chose to tell the truth, even if it could bring harsh consequences. Telling the truth requires courage and strength, it's not easy and it tends to be painful. You have our respect for that."

Caleb scoffed.

"It's the bare minimum. Don't praise or respect me for that."

He turned his head away. Catherine looked at her parents. A look that told them just how much she still loved that man and how much it hurts her seeing him like that. A look that pleaded them to not be too harsh on him and not yell at him. He didn't need two more people rubbing his mistakes in his face, when he already kept reminding himself of those and being angry with himself.

"We'll need time. We'll need time and a little distance. You can keep living here but don't expect the treatment you got before to continue immediately.", Mr. Clawthorne informed Caleb calmly, following his daughter's silent request.

"I'm not expecting it to, Sir. And like I said...", Caleb stopped and turned his head back, looking at his hand that Catherine firmly held, "if you don't approve of me and the marriage anymore-"

"We still approve of you and the marriage.", Mrs. Clawthorne interrupted before Caleb could finish, "You have a good heart. You're not a bad person and we know you won't deliberately hurt Catherine or anyone for that matter. We believe you that you've changed, and that you regret and dispise your past. But just like Andrew said...", Mrs. Clawthorne paused to reach for her husband's hand.

"You'll need time to process the situation.", Caleb repeated, "And you shall take all the time you need. And I will do anything required to regain your broken trust. Whatever it is! The fact alone that you are willing to give me a second chance... is more than I ever expected or could have asked for. You're too kind to me."

He lifted his face again to look at the Clawthornes. Their reaction to hus confession was so unusual to him and so unexpected that he didn't know how to handle this situation himself. Overwhelmed by the Clawthornes' and Catherine's understanding and willingness to forgive him, he noticed his vision blurring once again due to the tears forming in his eyes.

"Thank you. Truly.", he said in almost a whisper. Just loud enough to be audible to his future parents-in-law.

[redrabbitspod]

YOU GOT ROBBED ?! Can we have a story time ?

Um, no? Andrew fucking stabbed him before he robbed us?

Okay, here's a story time for you since I know you've missed them.

To start, let me just say we have a ridiculous security system. Like, they probably don't have this shit at the most secure locations okay. My uncle procured it and idk from where, we'll leave it at that. Now, because of this, we've had to tinker with it so we don't get an alert every time one of the chickens beaks a worm to death (RIP worm). Because of that it basically just alerts us when something sets off the security lights.

Now, we're in bed. It's like 3AM and we're sleeping soundly AT THE SAME TIME which happens a lot but it also doesn't happen enough that we appreciate it when it does (trauma lol). Both our phones start buzzing and Andrew fucking ninja kicks out of the bed like someone's burst through our bedroom door and not at all like his phone is softly buzzing near his head. I don't move at all because honestly I'm tired and Andrew seems like he has it handled. A few seconds later I hear who the fuck and that's when I also karate somersault out of the bed to find myself holding a weapon and ready to go. Because that meant a PERSON was setting our shit off.

Andrew's all grimly pulling his arm bands on like 'stay here' and after I got done laughing in his face we crept downstairs. We were watching this person go from shadow to shadow like they thought they could avoid the security lights and it would've been funny if it weren't so sad. We watched him sidle up to the back doors and try the handle and then pull something out like he was going to try to pick the lock. The alarm only hadn't gone off at this point because Andrew disabled it on his phone before it could. So we let him try to pick it. Because why not right? It was laughable. It's an electronic automatic lock like, my brother in Christ. It was never going to work.

Meanwhile Andrew pulls out a donut from somewhere istg I have no idea I guess they were just there in the kitchen which is where the back doors are and we're just hanging out listening to this fucker cursing at the door. Eventually Andrew shoves the last of the donut in his mouth, straightens his armbands and throws the door open.

Okay so listen. Andrew doesn't just stab people unless they deserve it, you know? We were just going to scare the shit out of this guy but then he pulls a gun when he sees us and barrels his way into the house like he's a one man swat team or some shit. Andrew wasn't even phased but AS SOON as that guy pointed a gun at me? Whew. WHEW. It's still gray sweatpant season friends and Andrew sleeps shirtless so this idiot is fucking HALF NAKED with his LONG ASS HAIR everywhere with BLACK ARMBANDS and he pulls a knife out so fast and just stabs THE FUCK out of this guy. Portrait of a small hot man titled 'don't touch my things'.

I'm laughing just thinking about this.

Like right in his side. He crumples to the kitchen floor and I look at Andrew and he looks at the guy and I'm like we're never going to get the blood out of the grout 😭 and Andrew's like he could have killed you you fucking idiot and I was like that gun isn't loaded. The guy at this point is trying to like crawl away so I put a foot on his back to hold him in place. Where tf do you think you're going?! Anyway so Andrew checks the gun and yeah. Not loaded. Like I said. I could just tell idk.

So then what do we do? We COULD call the cops but who wants to deal with the cops? Not perfectly law abiding citizens like us. And let's be real idk why this guy is breaking into houses. He sure broke into the wrong one and he was lucky he didn't step on a cat or something bc I'm not sure he'd have lived to tell this tale. But Andrew calls Aaron 1. To make sure they're okay and no one tried anything over there because The Nieces live there and 2. He didn't want to bloody the Maz or the GS so Aaron's shitty Honda would have to do.

We tie the guy up, load him into Aaron's Honda (I drove because I'm a great getaway driver and Aaron threw the keys out of his front door and said I DONT WANNA KNOW before slamming it again) and dumped him in front of a hospital. At this point Andrew had a shirt on but it was fine because he let me be the one to threaten the guy and if there's something I'm great at (besides being a getaway driver) it's making people believe my threats.

Anyway the guy pissed himself in Aaron's trunk and we're just waiting for him to realize it ☺️

THE END -N

[twistedmusings]

Petting Dorm

A/N: I petted my cat for a good thirty minutes yesterday while I was watching the translation for the camp event and...surely the Savannaclaw members must like at least some pets, right? Like they must really want some pets after a good long hard day. Warnings: None, just descriptions of petting and three very happy boys u wu

The Savannaclaw members watch on as Grim gets the petting of a lifetime, wondering when the hell it is going to be their turn.

“Grim you are acting so spoiled.”

“Nyaha~! I deserve to be spoiled today! I aced my test while Ace and Deuce failed and me and Epel got a good grade in the potions assignment today!”

Grim leans back into your touch as you rub all the way to the tip of his ears before going right back down again. He lets out a happy grunt as his little foot starts to twitch, your hands now massaging right under his ears and near his cheeks before scratching right near the nape of his neck.

“Fgnaa...go a little lower!”

“Here?”

“Ah~! I really needed this. This is the reason I made you my henchman, [Y/N]”

“Because of how much I’m petting you?”

You press a kiss to Grim’s face, the other complaining for a moment before smiling as your finger rubs right on the top of his head. The two Ramshackle residents keep talking as they sit in the middle of the Savannaclaw lounge, many eyes staring at them but three sets of eyes in particular glaring at the cat currently laying his entire body on one of their pillows.

“[Y/N]-san...” Jack speaks up first as he watches Grim’s leg give another twitch, his eyes not even looking at you but focusing entirely on your hands.

“Hm?”

“Did you…” the wolf man can practically feel a shiver down his spine as you rub right under Grim’s ears, “Did you...uh...did you bring the assignment?”

“I did.” you play with Grim’s tail before running your hand up and down his back, “I thought you said you wanted to start when Ace and Deuce got here though.”

Leona growls when Grim lets out another satisfied sigh, watching your hands go right back up to play with his ears as you press the tips of them together and then watch them go back to their normal place.

“What is even keeping them so long?”

You shrug and rub a little circle right on Grim’s forehead, Ruggie following the movement with his head as he closed his eyes.

He could almost feel it--

Another slow and agonizing five minutes later and you sigh, shaking the shivers out of your hands as Grim is finally asleep, leg up in the air as you pull away from him and pull out your phone.

“Knowing those two they probably forgot…” you shake your head and stand up, “I’ll go get them--”

“NO!”

All Savanna claw members stand up as they lean towards you, eyes wide with different emotions as you do your best to understand their sudden outburst.

“What’s...what’s wrong?”

“You’re not leaving.”

You blink and point to the exit.

“I’ll only be gone for a couple of minutes, I’m not going to take long--”

“Sit down.”

It was frustrating that you couldn’t disobey this man even if you wanted to. The way he did anything was just so annoyingly confident that you weren’t even surprised when you simply sat down on whatever chair was available before Leona plopped himself in front of you and put his head on your lap.

“You have a lot of nerve petting that raccoon in front of me.” he glares at you before closing his eyes and leaning further back, ears twitching expectantly as you look down at him in, well, rather justified confusion.

“I’m...sorry?” you put your hands up and look at Jack and Ruggie, “I honestly do not know what to do, what is he talking about?”

You can practically feel Leona’s growl against you as he grabs your hands and puts them on his hair, letting your fingers reach deep into the dark waves as he visibly relaxes and lets you go.

“Whatever the hell you did to that cat monstrosity you better do for me...and if it isn’t as good that it makes me fall asleep in five minutes then I’ll be using you as one of my pillows.”

What...the hell?

Your eyes look over at Ruggie and Jack but they don’t even seem to be paying attention to you, simply looking on as you start to do some of the things you remembered doing for Grim.

He smiles as the petting finally starts, his ears being played with gently before your hands rub the tips and press them flat on his head. They give a solid twitch as they pop back up, twitching once again as they pick up your slight chuckling.

Now he understood why the raccoon had been so vocal about this treatment. Feeling your hands reach right under his ears and scratch made him let out a happy groan, tilting his head back as he gave you more room to play with.

You scratch the back of his head with one hand while the other does little cross shapes on his forehead, Leona opening his eyes to watch you work so diligently on putting him to sleep.

“Is this something you do every day for that thing?”

“His name is Grim.” you say and go back to playing with his ears, “And no, not all days. Only when he does really good.”

Leona closes his eyes as he moves his head to the right as your fingers scratch one spot in particular.

“Is that all it takes?”

“Yeah...I mean it keeps him motivated.”

He stays quiet for a few seconds before speaking up again.

“I stayed awake during one of Crewel’s lectures.”

You stop scratching to look down at him, amazed at what he just told you.

There was no way that was true.

“Awake?”

“Uh-huh.”

“As in fully awake? Listening to the lecture awake?”

“Uh-huh.”

“...what was the lecture about?”

Leona yawns and opens one eye to look at you.

“Advanced Magical History.”

You frown knowing for a fact that you cannot quiz him on anything since you still weren’t in that class. The reason for him telling you this was lost on you for a moment before you looked down in surprise and realized what this really was about.

No way...

Had he told you about that...just to justify you petting him?

“That’s really good Leona-senpai” you test the waters carefully, running your hand through his hair as he tilted his head back so he could feel the pull of your hands a bit more. Your eyes widen when the dorm leader nods along to the rather shallow praises you were sending his way.

“I didn’t know you were such a hard worker.”

“Mmmhm.”

“Or able to stay awake for so long.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I always thought you were just a lazy lion who liked to sleep all day.”

“Mmmmmm.”

It takes your entire will of strength to not laugh at Leona’s face. This man usually had his guard up so much that no one could ever get a read on him but give him some scratches and he opened up like a kitten to a new owner?

You knew you had blackmail material in your hands but the prospect of using it was still rather terrifying.

Leona’s threats should never be taken lightly.

You finish by rubbing his ears and letting go, the dorm leader’s head lolling forward as you stand up and grab whatever cushion you can get your hands on and putting it under his head so that you can lay him on the ground softly.

That was...weird.

“...I’m going to get Ace and Deuce now. If we don’t finish this assignment we are going to be screwed."

“[Y/N]!”

What should he say? He had just called your name out randomly and put himself in danger of waking up Leona. Dammit think of something, Ruggie!

He seems to come up with an answer as his usual playful smile comes back, standing up and walking over to you as his tail wags slightly.

“I can go get them for you.”

You smile and take his hands, shaking them twice before plopping yourself down on another available seat.

“Ruggie-senpai you are so nice! I think they might be at Heartslabyul? Ace might have dragged Deuce in on a game of cards or they most likely got caught doing something they shouldn’t. If you have any problems just text--Ruggie-senpai?”

Blue gray eyes look up at you, Ruggie’s trademark smile shining up at you as he giggles.

“Shishishi...you really think I wouldn’t do this without a price, [Y/N]-san?”

He grins and grabs your hands again, putting them right under his ears as he closes his eyes.

“Ruggie-senpai our assignment--!”

“Five minutes! That’s plenty of payment for the walk I’m about to do all the way to Heartslabyul!”

“It isn’t that long of a walk!?”

Ruggie shrugs as moves his head so that it is at the most comfortable position on your lap.

“Hm, but I also will have to walk all the way back to Savannaclaw so maybe it should be ten…”

You should stop talking at this point or else the times were going to go up higher, your hands getting to work as you scratch right in between his ears, Ruggie’s grin melting into a satisfied smile as you dug your fingers into his hair and started to scratch right under his scalp which earned you a giggle.

This sort of petting was so different than the ones he would use to get in the Afterglow. Just some slum kids trying to give each other love and affection because in the end, they all needed it after a hard day. Petting someone like this was a sign of close friendship and even romance, if done with that intent, but Ruggie never thought humans would be any good at it.

Yet the way your hands rubbed small circles right on his forehead, the very action you had done to Grim, he was still surprised he was half awake and not falling asleep on your lap.

“Mmm...is there anything else that needs to get done, [Y/N]?”

You smile when you see him so relaxed, surprised at how comfortable he looked. This hyena ran around the school doing errand after errand and getting buck after buck. It was almost inspiring if it wasn’t for the fact that some of his dealing weren't necessarily...legal?

Not like you knew about law in Twisted Wonderland so you let it pass.

“Not really, not for me anyway.”

Ruggie pouts but still melts when you run your fingers through his hair, starting right at his forehead and working all the way to the back. His ears twitched as you rubbed the tips before pressing both of them together.

“Well I am not charging for the walk back but if you want me to wrangle up those two first years I should charge a bit more, so when I come back I want what Leona-san got--”

“Ruggie-senpai it’s been five minutes.”

Jack’s tail is curled around him while he looks away, his eyes only barely making contact with yours as he looked at Ruggie and then back at, well, nothing.

Ruggie clicks his tongue before standing up and shrugging.

“Fine. I guess I will take that as a down payment.” he grins at you, “I will take the full payment later!”

You want to ask just what kind of payment he was talking about but you decide to keep quiet because that man would find some way to convince you that, yes, you do owe him something and that your payment was going to not be your money but your time.

And you didn’t have a lot of that to be spending it all in one place.

He walks off and you lean back, smiling as your hands finally get a break. Grim’s fur was always so silky and if you were to compare it you would say it was the same as Leona’s hair but Ruggie’s was definitely a bit more rough. It wasn’t a bad sort of rough but you figured this was the difference between long haired and short haired animals.

Although since Leona was a lion wouldn’t he also have short hair? Or was his hair more like his mane?

And what about Jack?

You turn towards your friend, tilting your head as you catch him staring.

“I don’t know why but I always feel like I have to apologize for Ace and Deuce, Jack. Maybe it’s because I met them first?”

He shakes his head, “You shouldn’t apologize for their actions.”

“Well they are also my friends so...I figured I could do this much for them.”

You wiggle your fingers in front of your face as you send Jack a teasing smile, “Want me to pet you too?”

The wolf’s tail goes right up before Jack pushes it back down with a growl, his cheeks burning a beautiful bright red as he answers back.

“We should just wait for Ace and Deuce, I want to get this assignment done already.”

“Me too. But it’s going to be a few minutes before they come back.”

“Oi!”

You are already standing up when Jack complains, telling you that you really didn’t need to do any sort of things like that for him and that he was perfectly fine and didn’t want to get distracted--!

“You’re the only one who didn’t force me to pet him, Jack. Just relax and unwind!” you smile and sit right behind him and open your legs so that you could pull him back and let his head rest on your stomach. His neck now burns bright red as you scratch right under his ears which only served to make his leg bounce slightly while he slowly got accustomed to your touches.

He wondered if you would pet him when he was using his unique magic as well, although knowing him he would get on his back and present his stomach if it started feeling this good and he didn’t want Ace, Deuce or even you teasing him about it! It wasn’t that his was enjoying this to that point--!

It’s just that somehow you knew just what spots to scratch and for how long to scratch them that he was starting to feel weak.

“Hm. So you would be a long hair…” you mutter to yourself as Jack closes his eyes, pressing his cheek against your palm as you rub circles right on his temples, “I think I like your hair the most...but maybe I’m just playing favourites here.”

The wolf wants to ask you a bit more about him being your possible favourite from the Savannaclaw dorm but his jaw snaps shut when he sees his dorm leader start to get up, glaring at the two of you with a dry smile.

“So you’re the favourite, huh?”

Jack blinks as he looks back at you and then at Leona.

“Leona-senpai--!”

The lion moves closer as he presses his body right against Jack’s shoulder, grabbing one of your legs and putting it over his own shoulder so that you would fit both of them in between.

“Ow--! Owowowowow--I’m not that flexible, Leona-senpai!!”

“He got his turn and now I want another one. Get to work, herbivore.”

“Hey!”

The three of you look to see Ruggie pointing an accusatory finger in your direction.

“What are you hogging [Y/N] for! They still owe me! Move over!”

He shoves at Jack’s unoccupied shoulder, trying to make his way into the little nest as you feel your other leg being raised up--!

“Stop! What in the world do you think I am--and where is Ace and Deuce!?”

Ruggie blinks before looking around.

“Oh right...I was supposed to go get them.”

[ninjastormhawkkat]

Jenkins seemed to ponder Gene’s words a bit as he began to think of something. “No offense Gene, but are we sure it is super powered beings that this mysterious person is going after?” Jenkins questioned. Gene and the others looked surprised at Jenkins’ inquiry. “What do you mean?” Gene asked. Jenkins felt a little nervous with everyone’s eyes on him as he didn’t like being the center of attention, even with his friends. He took a deep breath before explaining his inquiry. “What I mean is…if this person was after super powered beings, then Joe or Matthew would have been taken before Alan and Alex would have. Gene your pops is powerful but he is also old which would give this kidnapper some leverage. Also Joe has been in and out on his own a few times before and during all of this yet he has come back home just fine. My boyfriend is tough but he isn’t as powerful as Tristan, Alex, and Alan. And another thing, when you said you thought Alex was messing with you earlier in that alley before he was taken away, but Alex had no clue what you were talking about when you confronted him about it. What if…this mysterious person was after you but then Alex came so they went after him. It sounds like you were a target as well even though you don’t have powerful abilities. They probably took Alex since he was more powerful than you and would give them a difficult time if they still decided to take you. I don’t know sir but this is starting to sound like a personal vendetta rather than just a regular kidnapping.” There was a moment of silence as everyone processed Jenkins’ explanation. Gene’s eyes widened. “That makes…a lot of sense actually.” Gene spoke in a stunned tone. He was feeling a mix of horror, shock, and fury. Horror and shock that someone was targeting him and his family, and fury at the audacity of the person doing it. “But if someone is targeting Gene and his family, who would be doing this? No offense but there are probably a lot of people out there who have grudges against you guys.” Archie pointed out. “That is true but we have dealt with a lot of them. Even those that are left, not all of them have superpowers and even less have the capability to deal with skilled heroes like Alex and Alan.” Victor pointed out. Gene nodded in agreement. “If this is a personal vendetta than what I said still stands. We need to keep Tristan and Becky safe and under surveillance.” Gene spoke in a determined tone. He wasn’t going to lose another person he deeply cared about. Carl placed a gentle hand on his youngest child in reassurance. Despite his lack of sleep and running on fumes, Hugh was still amazingly aware of his surroundings, especially of the smug man still sitting in the chair. “I’m sorry to change the subject here, but why is the lawyer who tried to ruin Patricia’s life here anyway? What did he mean by waiting to speak to his son and son-in-law?” Hugh inquired aloud as he leveled a slight glare at the man. Corbin only smirked wider back at Hugh. Again eyes were back on Corbin from the others. “That’s what I am still wondering.” Victor spoke. “I’m also wondering about what you implied, saying that you should have expected trouble from someone like me.” Victor rephrased Corbin’s choice of words from earlier. Corbin just let out a chuckle. “Very observant kid. Unfortunately I decline to say anything right now as I suspect your dad here doesn’t want me to let the cat out of the bag too soon until Matty comes here. I know all too well about your supernatural ability to tell when people are being honest or not. I gotta watch what I say around you.” Victor’s eyes widened as he turned to his dad who was still glaring at Carl. “Dad, what is he talking about?” Victor asked. He was afraid that his parents somehow got tangled up with this creep. Carl let out a sigh. “I’ll explain everything to you Victor, though he is right. It is best to wait until your father comes back. We also need to call Emily as well. This is something that concerns you all.” Carl explained @dualnaturedscientist

Heart of chaos

A year had passed since the B.E.A.W Labs organization had fallen. Since all the events had taken place. Becky being taken along with Bob. The poor girl being experimented on by a cruel scientist who had no love for anyone but himself. Matthew had broken out of the facility with her, Carl and Steven. Gene's true identity being revealed along with losing his Dr.Two-Brains persona. Shocking revelations unfolded. Betrayals and redemption. Things had calmed down significantly since but that didn't mean life had been dull. It certainly wasn't for Fair City. Especially with the villains, heroes and its eccentric inhabitants livening up the city. Becky had been making a wonderful recovery. Though she still wasn't at her full recovery Becky was still making so much more progress than the year prior. Gene still had identity issues, dealing with the loss of Squeaky. Though he didn't go through it alone. The still mad scientist had his family and friends help him through everything. Matthew and Carl took up residency within the city. A house that wasn't too far from their sons. Life in this place was definitely lively and peaceful in comparison to the hellish place many innocent souls were imprisoned in. Matthew was less exhausted than before. Relaxing within the living room in his son's house, watching whatever was put on the television. Matthew felt his eyes beginning to droop. Sleepiness hitting him out of nowhere. He simply allowed himself to doze off, not fighting it. Knowing that he was safe there. It wasn't until he felt weight on him that Matthew opened his eyes. Usually a dog or cat would be the cause for this but Matthew met many eyes. Fluffy had snuck into the house yet again. A small warm smile spread across his facial features, patting the spider on its head. Fluffy leaned into Matthew's hand, making soft happy noises. It was funnily cute to him. Though he understood as to why Gene was so afraid of him. Even Carl was squeamish around the giant spider. “Aw, who's a good boy? You are! You're a good boy!” Matthew couldn't help but baby talk the arachnid. He looked up, wriggling his chelicerae in response. As to say ‘Me! I'm a good boy!’ He chuckled at that, giving Fluffy gentle scritches. It was like a huge puppy in a spider's body. Though the peacefulness was interrupted by a sudden shout. “NO! WHY IS IT HERE AGAIN?!” Gene was in the doorway of the living room. Looking quite terrified at the huge arachnid. Fluffy instantly moved around on Matthew's lap to look at Gene. Excitedly jumping off of the supervillain's lap in favor of his son. He bolted right for the mad scientist, causing him to yelp loudly and make a run for it. “SOMEONE KEEP THAT ABOMINATION AWAY FROM ME!” Matthew gave a small laugh. “Can't help but feel abit rejected there.” Archie, who was quiet until then, responded. “I know that feeling.” This caused Matthew to jump up startled. “Don't do that! I'm old. Also I could accidentally blast you.” Archie blinked in confusion. “You didn't notice me? I came in with Fluffy. He got loose and snuck into the house. I just came to bring him back before he got to Gene. Too late for that now.” Archie frowned. “I can't help but be jealous at how much Fluffy loves him. Though Gene is terrified of him. That spider just won't listen to me when it comes to his favorite person.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “You want me to help you?” Matthew was being genuine with his question. He didn't want his son dying of fright from the giant arachnid. “That would be greatly appreciated. I have to take him back home. He can't avoid taking his medication this time.” Matthew got up, stretching first before doing anything else. This earned him a strange look from Archie. “What? I said I'm old. If I don't stretch I'll pull a muscle.” The hero shrugged. “Let's go get him soon. I have to look after Charlotte as well.” Archie always had the brightest smile when Charlotte was brought up. Either by him, Sunshine or anyone else. It was sweet. “Alright, alright.” They were completely unaware of an enemy observing them. Waiting.

Miss Power growled in frustration at the display she was witnessing through a window to the Boxleitner or rather the Woods household. A display she thought was very disgusting. How badly the alien conqueror wanted to charge right in their and obliterate everyone in her sights. She couldn't do her usual tactics and tricks right now, not after what she learned after coming back. She was still ticked off after that little alien brat Wordgirl and her parents dupe and tricked her into leaving the planet in defeat. There was no way she could go back to her planet and face her people with such a shameful stain to her otherwise brilliant record. Fueled by revenge and hatred, Miss Power spent her time preparing, training, and waiting so she could exact her revenge against those who wronged her, against the little hybrid girl and her freak of a family that humiliated her. Sadly when Miss Power and her loyal sidekick Colonel Gigglecheeks did decide to return, they were not prepared for the recent changes that had happeend in their absence. Miss Power did not care much for this Darius person or B.E.A.W labs, she had seen those like them a dime a dozen before on other worlds. The alien wished she could have congratulated the person who tortured and dehumanized Wordgirl and her sidekick. If it was up to her, Professor Ross Moran would receive high honors among her people for his actions. She did give her condolences at his unmarked gravestone. While the recent trauma Wordgirl and her sidekick have suffered gave Miss Power an opportunistic advantage, the alien conquerer unfortunately could not risk using it especially with her grandfather around. Miss Power was amazed at hearing about the past and recent exploits of Maddrix the Malicious. She was shocked that someone so bloodthirsty and powerful was the father of that scientist who used to have a mouse brain attached to his skull as well as a weird cheese obsession. To her disappointment, Miss Power could clearly see the man was too human and had regretted his actions in the past. Actions that would have made him highly respected among her people despite him being human. Still Miss Power wasn't going to risk striking back while that old coot was still alive. Age did not always equate to weakness according to what she had been taught. Even though he was old, Maddrix was clearly still powerful. It was likely that her and Gigglecheeks would wind up dead by the man's hands before they could claim revenge and victory. A chittering sound snapped Miss Power out of her musings. She turned her head to see her sidekick give her a concerned look. He chittered again and asked 'So what are we going to do?' Miss Power smiled and scratched her sidekick's head which he enjoyed. "Don't worry Colonel Gigglecheeks. We'll get our revenge soon. We just need to learn more about Mr. Malicious and what weaknesses he might have so we can use it to defeat him." Miss Power cooed. She then took her sidekick and flew off without anyone being the wiser. Miss Power was brash and bold and could be tricked sometimes, but she was no fool. The alien conqueror learned long ago that the best way to win your battles was to be prepared and know your enemy more than they know themselves. Carl sighed with relief and slight exhaustion as he sat down in a comfy chair. He had just finished sweeping the floor of his and Matthew's home. Now all he had to do was sit and relax until his husband got home. Carl wanted to try a nice 'mom and pop' owned restaurant that one of Gene's friends, Chuck, had recommended to the man. Carl had been itching to get out and do something more and more recently. If he had to be honest, he was getting bored. In the past, Carl had his job and work as a scientist to keep him occupied along with spending time with his husband and kids. Unfortunately after his 20 year imprisonment, Carl couldn't step in another official science lab ever again without a severe anxiety and panic attack @dualnaturedscientist

[breanime]

I saw you reblog someone else do it, so now I need to know your opinion: how many shots to hook up with the Mayans men 👀👀👀

Oof... wow... okay, so, keep in mind that I'm a Whore and I don't like shots so... also I'm high, so my bad for any typos

Warning: Horny Thots

Bish: Three shots, but I KNOW he would buy me more... and I would take them. I would also take him. In a backroom or the bathroom or behind the club in the alley. It'd be a nice, hard fuck and we would laugh together while we fucked, but once it was done, I probably wouldn't wanna see him again... I'm lying, I'd hit him up like once every three months for a booty call till he gets too drunk and yells at me and I have to kick him out at 3 in the morning and then I'm not gonna fuck anyone else for like 8 months cause of the drama. So. Thanks, Bish 🙄

Taza: Three to five shots, just to get the courage to approach an older man who, you know, looks like Taza. I feel like we'd talk the whole night, and by the end of it I'd basically be willing to kill for this man. I have no doubt he holds his liqour better than me, and he's so well spoken and has such an interesting vibe, I'd listen to him tell stories till the bar closed.

Hank: Honestly, maybe two or three. He isn't my type at all, but if he could guarantee some good dick, drunk me would be into it for one time.

Gilly: Five. Maybe more. Probably more. Definitely more. He isn't my type physically, and I don't think I'd like his personality. I'm not even interested in what he's got under the hood, if ya know what I mean. Not for me.

Creeper: Three shots, maybe less. He's cute and I bet I could tease him and make him flustered, so I would take maybe two shots, one for courage, and the other would be an excuse to go back up to the bar where I asusme he'd be chilling so I could strike up a conversation. The third shot would be the one he buys me. We'd go back to his place and bang, and he'd be super cute asking for my number after and he would want to take me out for breakfast and he'd consider it a date and oh wow, I'm dating Creep now. Okay!

Coco: Two shots. Both for courage because he looks intimidating. I'd get close to him and encourage him to touch me when he's ready, and then next thing you know, I'd be halfway in his lap making out in the bar. I'd have to blow him in the bathroom, which isn't ideal, but I think he's the type to kiss you after he's come in your mouth, so yay. Anyway, we'd go back to his place and fuck a few times before he passes out and I go home. But he'd probably text the next day asking when he can fuck me again, and it'd be on from there 💗

Angel: Not a single shot. I know Angel.I have meet many Angels. I am well versed in Angel. Hell, Angels love me. I would sip my little cocktail and flirt with him until he straight up tells me he wants to stretch my pussy out and when I tell you we would break LAWS speeding to his place and he would put me on my knees in the entry way of his house because he's been rock hard since the bar and he can't wait to get started---anyway. Yeah. I. Uh. I would fuck Angel if I had the chance.

EZ: One shot because he's pretty and I'd be afraid he wouldn't be interested in my basic ass lol. BUT one of us would drop a random fact, and that would become our thing. I'd be slurping him down like a red popsicle on a hot summer day and then stop like "hey, did you know emus can't walk backwards?" And then he'd be drilling my shit, have me face down in the mattress and he would say, "Did you know that the Pope declared war on black cats in the 13th century which lead to an increase in rats and then the plague?" And we would do that forever and ever until we died.

Nestor: Three shots, especially if he's wearing his sunglasses because why would he wear those? What's his deal? He's mysterious and I want to know what his dick looks like. And I will. I will.

Miguel: Three shots. He's intimdating, but he's also perfect and if I saw him, I would never forgive myself if I let him get away. After the three shots, I'm putting anything else he gives me in my mouth. And once we leave the bar, he will have full access to all of my holes. Matter of fact, might need another shot just to help numb me up a bit cause I'm in for a long night.... anyway....

Manny: You already know. It wouldn't take me a single shot, the things I would do to that man, what I would let him do to ME, no question, we fucking. I'm gonna perform magic on his dick. I'm gonna do acrobatics on his dick. I'm gonna put a spell on his dick, he's gonna wanna kill me before he lets another person have me. And I'll be stone cold sober when I spring the trap, babyyyyyyyyy

Felipe: Three shots... might play up how drunk I am a bit, cause I know he's a traditional gentleman and will then take it upon himself to look after me the rest of the night. He wouldn't take me home, he'd probably hump me in the back of the carnicería and then apologize for it after. We'd never hook up again, and he'd feel guilty as hell, like he cheated, but he would still be fond of me and we would become friends. And he'd have to introduce me to his sons and then they'd introduce me to the club and then....

....we're back to taking shots and getting slammed, baby! 😎🤙🏾🤙🏾

Did I forget anybody?

[scuttling]

Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

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