#will have to settle for the one in america for now tho

[copperpipes]

I always see people give vlad a Count Dracula kinda design and its cool and all but one time I sat and thought hey, Vlad, doesnt sound like an american name. And isn't Vlad short for Vladimir? Long story short he's Russian now. (In my au! Don't come at me people,,,)

I thought it fit his personality well enough, greedy, cunning, with high education that he is not using enough, and always looking for ways to work as little as possible.

How he got to America is fairly simple, his parents born in the soviet union didn't agree with the communist party so they fled to America where Vlad was born, that’s all.

In his design i have only taken a little inspiration from slavic royal attire, the rest is from how ectoplasm naturally settles combined with Vlad's preferences in how he looks. (Yes he has black teeth, yes his mouth is glowing from the inside.)

How Vlad died is much more interesting tho, radiation poisoning.

*description of a long and painful death, read at your own volition, skip the paragraph if you rather not*

!

It started shortly after the portal exploded on his face, with skin ulcers (his 'ecto acne' ,  Is one major symptom of radiation poisoning), continued with organ failure, and ended with a series of seizures with the last one on his bathroom floor while bleeding from every hole in his body. The whole metamorphosis lasted about a year.

!

What happened is that he didn't die quickly like Danny had, he didn't shift to a ghost form right away because he didn't have one yet. He hasn't died yet. Without the huge amount of ectoplasm Danny had the suit that kept him together Vlad's ghost-half formed gradually and so slowly that he couldn’t tap into it while in the 3rd dimension for another year after he died and came back.

His death has formed a core, the electric shock from its awakening is what revived him. The poisoning stopped, he already died, the core kept him alive until the body recovered enough to function on its own.

Damn

That's a lot of angst 

Uh, um, he also less cares about Maddie herself and more about taking everything from Jack which is who he blames for his death.

So yeah, poor guy :'o his hate for Jack is now very justified.

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷  Forbidden love, mutual pining, eventual angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷  Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ Chapters are a bit rushed, sorry bout that 😭 hope u enjoy tho

Chapter 1: Behind the chain

Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, underaged smoking, mention of death, horrible Spanish. Also, I don’t live in America so idrk how people talk there, so please bear with me.

FIC MASTERLIST

Next Chapter

“Hello? Yeah, I’m at practice.”

As your feet hit the ground, the chain link fence shutters from the release of your weight— a sigh escaping your lips as you pull your phone up closer to your ear. The sound of your aunt's nags echo from your phone, bellowing across the abandoned subway and overpowering even the sound of your boots hitting the damp ground. It was shrill, her voice. Like a fork being dragged down a piece of fine china. Activating the flashlight of your phone, you swiftly slip your head out of your hood, the new spot now staring back at you like an empty canvas— devoid of life and color. It’s tragic.

As you trudge down the narrow space, your senses begin to process the stench of the horror movie-like scenery. You could heard the pipes’ leaking going along with your aunt’s ongoing lecture about something you couldn’t recall— somehow distracting you from your search.

But what certainly made you uneasy was the chill.

You hated the cold. You hated the way it’d ice your feet, dry your skin, restrict your clothes, and clog your nose. Though ironically, autumn was the season you found most enjoyable. Most of the nostalgia you bore came from the sight of those scarlet leaves— the smell of pumpkin spice, your mother’s old scarves, and the earthly rich tones of orange and red. It’d been so long, though, since your last happy memory in the season.

Nowadays, the nights are just longer, and the days shorter.

Soon enough, you stop before a tall, white wall, making you gasp as though you’d just won the lottery. Only then you started bidding your farewells to your aunt, who was beyond exasperated with your hurried adieu. Shoving the gadget down your pocket, your backpack falls right off your shoulder with a small thump, eyes still glued onto the blank space.

You make your way towards one of the seats, settling down your stuff while slipping your vape out the crevices of your sleeve and taking a slow puff— the taste of peppermint flourishing through your lips and covering up the stench of whatever was rotting in the railways.

"You're early." A familiar, sarcastic growl emits from the shadows. You turn around as the light from your phone blinds him, making him wince.

“I missed you.” You playfully answered.

The familiar gleam of hazel blinks and stares right back at you, the same stoic stare narrowing from your comment.

“Sure you did.” He huffs.

In the back of your mind, the same phrase bellows.

Well, well, well. If it ain’t Miles Morales.

It was one night, two months ago, when the two of you first met. You were an utter mess, and so was he— and it just so happened that beneath all that rain, the two of you found each other at the right time, at the right place. Supposedly.

The two of you bonded in loneliness and art. It was almost poetic, especially knowing that the two of you were anything but good for each other.

But you believed that that’s what’s great about life— the reckless things, and betting whatever you have on the line, for a taste of something thrilling. Miles knew how to pull on your strings, and the idea of being understood was still new to you. Still, whenever you do find yourself in the comfort of Miles Morales, you can’t help but ask yourself:

Who will we be to each other?

How will we change each other’s lives after this?

You couldn’t quite tell if it was your gut warning you, or your anxiety just being a little shit, but you knew the time to hear the answers was drawing near. You had no idea whether the possibility mortified you or not.

One thing for certain though, was that you knew you wanted him, and you were willing to take the risk to see him over and over again.

Miles took a step closer, his height towering over you like a tree. With a single finger, he maneuvers your flashlight away from his face with a light push.

"Get that shit away from my face."

“Awe, but I wanna see that pretty face of yours.”

“Stop.”

Cat and mouse was your usual dynamic. Though you couldn’t quite pinpoint who the cat was.

He clicks his tongue, moving away from you to head over somewhere else. A few seconds later, the power suddenly lights up and brings the subway back to life. Miles stood by the power switch, staring right at you as if to examine your reaction.

You straightened your lips and raised your brows.

"Well, you should've done that sooner."

He lazily shrugged his shoulders, approaching you once more yet with more meticulous steps. "Wanted to scare ya." He cooly confessed, earning nothing but another chuckle.

"If you wanted to scare me, don’t look so pretty."

Said pretty boy furrowed his brows, making you grin wider.

"Ay, díos. You're..." For a short moment, he thinks of how to complete the sentence.

You hum. "I'm what?"

".. so fucking unbearable."

"Awe, I missed you too." You smiled in a sickly sweet way while placing a hand over your heart. That certain sort of thrill began thumping inside you again, an unfamiliar excitement that got you staring right at him mindlessly with that stupid look on your pretty face. As Miles replied with silence, you shrugged and pulled the mod up your tinted lips— blowing the smoke away from his face. Only then, you gestured it towards him.

"Want a hit?"

"Nah." He dryly replies. "That's your first step to a rehab, y'know."

A low laugh exits your lips, taking another hit while slowly walking around. "With how fucked up I am, I'm bound to end up in either jail, a rehab, or a mental institution— so," You snap your fingers. "I'm just gonna enter all three of them."

Miles looks at you, horrified.

"M’just kidding. Don't you think I look hot while doing it, though?"

He peels the horrified stare away from you, instead choosing to kneel before your backpack, unzipping the damn thing as though it were his.

"What'chu got?" He asks, a certain twang in his voice that lightened you up. You head over in less than a second, grinning stupidly like a little kid in search of favor. You pull the plastic bag out of your backpack, waving it over his face.

"Only the best for you." You wink. "I just kindly borrowed these from my school's art club."

Receiving the bag from your grasps, Miles pulls out the newly bought spray paints. He furrows his brows at the sight of the bold fifteens printed on the bottom of each bottle, a tag left as if to brag. "Kindly borrowed, huh?" He skims over the bottle, evidently impressed. "Fifteen dollars per bottle? That’s a whole heist right there.”

“I literally just snatched it off the cabinet.”

“You must go to some rich kid’s school or sum. You even look the part.”

He gestures over your well-kept appearance. Your clean boots, pressed jeans, freshly done nails, and fragrant hoodie.

And yet you continued to look at him like he was the crazy one.

"... Miles, it’s called neatness. A basic trait." You stand up, stretching your arms above your head, the ache in your bones subtly easing. "If I did have the money, my art would be in an exhibition, not in an abandoned subway."

He pursed his lips, somewhat convinced. "Touché."

As he unpacks the paints, you stay beside him, watching as he goes through the colors and lines them up in order. You shove your hands down the pockets of your hoodie, humming.

"So what'll you be drawing tonight?"

"I ain’t really sure yet… The Subway logo, maybe." He shrugs, an exhausted groan rolling off his tongue as he stands up. "… I ain't got shit. I'm drained."

"Then why'd you come here?"

"Felt bad for ya."

You smirk. "So you did miss me."

He takes a step back, turning his head the other way. "I sure do find your delusional ass amusing." He mumbled, trying to hide the anxiety gnawing at his throat. You hardly notice it, as you were too busy staring at the empty wall, but Miles was uneasy. Uneasy in a way that he was desperate to hide it.

"At least I’ve got an ass." You airily snap back, silence following like an awkward stench. "Did you bring your sketchbook with you, by the way?"

He then proceeds to go through his jacket, eyes widening from the realization. "Ah, shit. I did... Not."

"Awe." You blandly answered, pulling out your own from the pocket of your bag. It was small, convenient, almost like a notepad. "Well, I've got mine here." You toss it over, which he successfully catches. "They're not exactly as good as yours, but you can skim through the pages to find some inspiration."

The pages spin from the flip of his fingers. Tens of concept art, a few unfinished sketches, and some dabbling in watercolor appeared before him in a flash. As he goes through the pages, you take the moment to have a momentary smoke, straying not so far away just so he wouldn't inhale any of it. The nicotine eased you as it normally did, though now that you were looking at this pretty boy before you, you couldn't help but ponder about quitting. Just for him. Just for the sake of him.

Though the feeling the nicotine often brought you was addicting, his presence hit you harder than any other drug, affecting your system in a way that made your stomach whirl. He was like your favorite cup of coffee— the strongest coffee to ever linger in your presence. Strong enough to appear on a drug test.

It was damning.

Dangerous even.

As the page flips again, Miles freezes at the sight. You take the gadget away from your lips, approaching him immediately as he huffs.

"... Huh."

Bursting in neons of magenta and violet was the sketch you made of a certain vigilante.

"Oh, don’t mind that." You mumble. "That's just some random sketch."

He brings the paper closer to his sights, marveling at your talent. The markers and the ink, mirroring the image of a cat on the run. His pretty lips part, mouth hanging agape as he asks. "You know this guy?"

A hero of the streets, some sort of final pillar carrying the weight of New York's safety on his broad shoulders.

"Well, I've seen him— Prowler, from the news. I thought he looked pretty cool."

Prowler, a name all too familiar to you. How could you not know he was? A man hiding behind an iron mask, a digital purple hologram over the metals, making his silhouette mirror a panther’s. The man was all your father recently growled about, the memory of the heavy morning still engraved into your mind. You can almost sketch it out— The stench of his tobacco, the shrill of his angered voice, and the image of your poor housekeeper silently brushing some broken shards into the dustpan. You remember sitting by the dining table, solemnly choking on your breakfast as you forcibly shoved it down your throat.

Eyes downcast and hands shaking.

"You think he's cool?" Miles' voice tears you apart from the memory. He sounded almost elated, like a child in search of praise.

"Yeah, I'd always wanted to be a vigilante, fuck—" The vape rolls off your tongue unconsciously. "Like, my life is so damn boring, but at the same time, I've got too many responsibilities to handle so I can't do the things I like. But hey, that's life, I guess."

"If you've got too many responsibilities, then what the hell are you doing here? It's like midnight r'now, damn."

"I kinda told my aunt I had practice for band."

"You're in a band?"

"…. No." You deadpan. "That's the reason why I'm here, man."

He snapped the sketchbook shut, sighing as he plucked out the red and purple spray paints from the line. "God, you'd be one hell of a headache if I ever had a kid like you."

"Woah, slow down, sweetie, you're already talking about kids and you haven't even taken me out to dinner yet." You tease, teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you watch him crumble. He straightens his lips, forcefully holding back a smile.

"… Shut that mouth for me, would ya?" He shot back. "Just shut up."

"Oo, make me."

He pops the lid off the red paint, the sound of a nickel ball being shaken up in a metal can soon following. Without even an ounce of hesitation, he curtly sprays the paint over your sleeve, earning a gasp from you. You quickly snatch the neon pink can and start spraying back, the chemical smell wafting over your nostrils as the sound of your giggles echoed down the halls. A minute later and the both of you began drawing your new piece while being drenched in paint.

"Hey, pretty boy.”

Miles instinctively turns to look at you, as though he prided himself in the nickname.

"I need to do the top part, can you boost me?" You ask, voice muffled from the towel pulled over your nose.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, but he agreed without making a sound.

He kneels, tapping on his thigh, gesturing you to take your step. Taking off your shoes, you cautiously climb over, feeling his hands brush against your calves, almost as if he was readying his stance to catch you just in case you fall. Initially, the pose seemed to be serving you well, but when your ankles started shivering, your hand latched onto his head, gripping gently in panic. Miles, who was, of course, caught off guard, began shaking. You finally took a step down.

"Fuck." You whispered. "Can you do it?"

"Hol' on."

"I think you just need to like, tiptoe a bit and—"

"Be patient."

And you did just that.

He stretches out his toes in an attempt to reach for the top, but he fails miserably. Miles then turned to you, bearing the pout of a frustrated child.

"... Ya already know what to do, right?"

"Mm, yeah."

An irrational thought crosses his mind, and it battles against his rationality like a civil war within the confines of his head. A second later, his lone finger signals you to come closer. You do so, and he looks up at the unfinished crown.

"I'm gonna carry you, a'ight?"

"What?" You blurt out. "Y-You don't have to—"

"Just balance yourself." He skips past your rant. "And you better do it well."

Before you could even intervene, he's down and offering you his shoulder. Hesitantly, you position yourself. Looking over at you, Miles skims over your face in search of approval. When your hand shakily makes its way over his other arm, Miles cautiously wraps his palm over the side of your knee, hoisting you up like a trophy he’d just won.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Y-yeah. Just— yeah." You stumble over your words, raising your hand over to start painting.

You could feel it tingling in your bones. Skin deep, rotting within the confines of your flesh, insecurity at its highest peak. And it shut you up. Miraculously, as Miles would say it. Your weight, your body, your own figure frightened you. It would be a lie for Miles to claim that he hasn’t noticed. But he stood tall, hardly showing an ounce of any struggle— which comforted somehow.

He was pretty strong, stronger than you first thought.

As you painted, Miles stood there in silence. Trying his best to focus on his breathing.

But the softness of your palm atop his shoulder, and the growing warmth of his own over your waist. Miles desperately tried to ignore growing warmth burning his cheeks. He resisted the urge to dig into the softness of your waist, and yet it remained like a taunt— allowing only his nails to grip over your shirt, the thin barrier over your skin. It seemed almost vulgar, how his hand was beneath your hoodie, gripping as though you were his favorite plush. How his wrist was pressed against the curve of your hip. Then and there, within the span of five minutes, the silhouette of your body was forever engraved into his senses, his mind, and his touch.

But no one spoke of it.

"... You done?" He groaned.

"In a bit, hol' on."

You thought he'd start complaining about your weight, but he didn't.

You were somewhat relieved, but at the same time, it flustered you.

And when the little scene ended, you and Miles stood there, backs pressed against the wall as you stared at your new masterpiece. You looked over the chemical stains on your sleeves, glancing at him. "This jacket's pretty expensive, y'know. It cost me like fifteen grand."

His face twisted in disgust. "You'd buy a jacket like that? In this economy?”

"It's a capitalist world we live in."

"No shit."

The two of you share a small laugh, evidently exhausted from the whole art process. It wasn't all that much, but it was based on one of your many doodles during class. The cursive that spelled out Stay Out was painted in an intimidating shade of red, its borders tainted in white and black— a crown of thorns resting above the text. It seemed like a warning, an open threat. Crafted by frustration, but upon its finish, you were eased.

"Next time, we should do something that says 'Eat the rich' or 'Vive la revolución.'" Miles suddenly suggested, jazzing his fingers comedically. You click your tongue. "We might get shot, man.”

“With all that smoking you do, you’ll wither away before the bullet even manages to get you.”

You raised your brows. “Okay, and?”

Miles scoffs at your ridiculous reply, but for a moment he thinks about it— some sort of plan in his mind. Sooner or later, he soon gently raises his palm without a word. You stare at his hand confusingly, “What?” you then asked of him. The boy then gestured over his lips with his fingers shaped like a v, imitating the act of smoking. “Lemme try, at least once.”

“… You’re kidding.”

“I’m being for real, ma, just let me try it once.”

You think about rejecting his request, but the curiosity had you fishing out your e-cigarette in less than a second.

“Okay, but if you die, I’m not paying for your damn ambulance bill.”

“Just uber me to the damn hospital.”

Miles then looks at it, glaring holes into the pen-shaped gadget as though he were waiting for it to speak. After considerably taking his time, he plucks it out your palm and starts a slow sip, the collision of the nicotine and the flavor flooding his tongue as the smoke enters his system. When the heat creeps in, however, he bursts out into a coughing fit.

You snatch the gadget away from his grasp as he groans.

“Careful.”

"What the fUCK—, ain't that s'pposed to calm you down?—" He slams his hand against the center of chest in an attempt to ease his lungs.

"… Did you fucking swallow the smoke or what?" You sigh while taking a sip, the smoke smoothly exiting your lips.

"... You know what? You are definitely gonna die early."

"Oh, darling, don't threaten me with a good time."

“Pu—” He coughs a few more times. “Puta, I almost died there.”

You take your palm and began rubbing small circles behind his back. “You shouldn’t do the shit I do, even if I look hot doing it.”

“Ain’t nobody told you that.”

“… Why’d you wanna smoke anyway?”

“I just wanted to know why you keep doing that.” He groans, staring at the pen in your fingers. “I mean— it’s unhealthy as fuck, hardly tastes good, and it’ll kill you the ugliest way possible. So why do it?”

You lower the pen as though your long-lost conscience re-entered your body.. “… I don’t know really.” You mumbled half-heartedly. “I think it’s what calms me down the most…? I don’t know.”

“… You don’t have, like, normal hobbies?”

“The fuck— of course, I do.” You swiftly shot back. “I just don’t have the time to do them.”

“Then what do you do at home?”

You blink.

“What— What do I do at home?” You repeat, thinking of it to yourself. “That’s a good question, what do I do at home?… I do chores, I study a lot. I-I take care the house.” Take care of the house? Yeah, shit I ain’t Mirabel Madrigal. As your mind short circuits, from a mile away, you could already guess his reply.

“I do that too, dumbass.”

You click your tongue. “.. It’s complicated. The time I usually have for myself is when I’m outside, that’s why I lied that I took up band for extra credit.”

You smoothed out the details of your life, picking out a few small details that were definitely not all that important.

"Is that why you're here?"

"Yeah.”

The boy curved his lips into a slight frown.

“I mean,” You shift closer, sighing as you palm the back your neck. “Sometimes, places like these are better than my own home."

"Places like an abandoned subway?"

“You make it sound like I’m homeless.”

“That’s what it sounds to me.”

"... It’s just.." You run your fingers through your hair, eyes glued onto the ceiling above. "I feel more at home in an abandoned subway more than my own house.”

Miles hummed. "… I'd always thought home would be more of a person," He tilts his head. "Rather than a place."

The silence was deafening, but this time, nothing was urging you to fix it— because there was nothing in need of fixing. You were comfortable, weirdly enough, as you never really found comfort in utter silence.

“It’d be nice to be.. Someone’s home.” You couldn’t help but utter those cheesy words. “I think I’d make a great home.”

Miles fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, holding back the words that echoed in his mind.

Yeah, you’re doing great.

Instead, what slips out of his mouth was: “How the fuck are you gon’ be a home? You’re a whole haunted house.”

“Oh, fuck you.” You roll your eyes. “If I’m a haunted house, you’re a rental where all the drive-by shootings happen.”

“Okay, what the fuck.”

“When you go low, I go LOWER.”

In the end, the two of you simply bursted into laughter, sinking down to the floor to take a seat. Another hour passed and so did a hundred topics. They flew by like the autumn leaves, leaving the both of you unconsciously huddling close for warmth beneath the large scarf you brought. Two birds of one feather, one nest. Easy conversations, light laughs, and genuine interest.

Even when the conversation grew darker, the two of you infinitely felt cosy enough to confide in one another. Especially when Miles spoke about his father.

You listened well, yet there was this ball stuck in your throat that you couldn’t quite swallow. A heaviness in your heart, a stiff feeling in your throat. However, your ears were welcoming. His tone was grieving, but his words resonated with acceptance.

"He used to drive me every morning to school... We'd fight over the pettiest things, and god, I hated it, but looking back, it was better then." He buried half his head into his arms. "I'd rather have him annoying me than have him not annoying me at all."

The words hit you like a truck, leaving you defenseless. In a moment, your walls crumble as these words crawl out your mouth. "... Sometimes, when we're with someone, you can't help but wish they'd leave you alone, but when they're gone, only then you'll realize how much you can't live without them."

Though your words were meant for Miles, you knew damn well that they were also for you.

"... There's some truth to that, I guess."

"Does that mean that you'd miss me when I'm gone?" You tease.

Your gentle gazes collide, and eventually, you see that Miles had softened entirely.

"... Maybe."

“.. Maybe?” You repeat his reply. “.. Should I annoy you more then?”

“You’re annoying enough as you are.” He huffs, pulling his knees to his chest. “I hate you so much.”

“Sure you do.”

You lean against his shoulder. “Hate me all you want. I’ll pretend to believe you.”

A light chuckle emits from his lips, but as it fades, he turns his head, burying his nose in the scent of your hair. You were fragrant, and it was addicting. Slowly, he shuts his eyes and basks in your scent.

Then he called out your name softly.

You hum, looking up at him— the inches between you closing in, cold breaths like white smoke intertwining. His cold fingers dance atop your own.

“What?” You whisper.

His lids were heavy, gaze switching between the pool of your eyes and the plush of your lips.

Then and there, you knew.

But something screamed at you in the back of your mind.

We can’t.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

And you pulled away before your lips could even meet.

"Shit." You cuss, clumsily pulling the phone out of your pockets. Your hands frantically scramble to answer the call, the look of Miles' defeated stare stinging the corner of your eye. "Hello?" You began, hearing the chauffeur's voice ask back. "Ma'am, where are you?"

Your fingers press the side of your phone, lowering the volume.

“We're currently clearing up the room right now. Can you please wait about thirty more minutes? Thanks."

As the call ends, you frantically head off to start cleaning up. Trying to evade whatever had just happened— at least, you try to. It invaded your mind and heart, left you breathless and unsteady.

You and Miles began picking up the bottles, shoving it inside the plastic. You then flung the strap of your backpack onto your shoulder, holding the plastic out to him. "You can have it."

Confusion was scribbled all over his face.

"Didn't you steal that from your school's art club?”

You look up, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. "It’s their problem, not ours." You grin.

Miles shakes his head in feigned disapproval. "Tsk tsk tsk, eres una chica tan mala."

"Don't start, the only Spanish I know's from Dora."

"Que?"

"Queso."

You shove the plastic into his arms. "No hablo Español, lo siento." Was all you managed to form out of the past few weeks you started learning Spanish. You threw a hand in the air, waving him a fast farewell while pivoting your heel to leave.

“Can’t I walk you home?” A suggestion, and not a demand for the first time, Miles insists “It’s dark as fuck outside, and you might get.. Y’know.”

For a moment, you pause to laugh.

“Are you worried about me?”

He nods. “I am.”

“I— wait, what?”

He took a step further. “I am worried about you. It’s ten o’clock. I think I should take you home.”

Miles looked at you in a way you’ve never seen before. It was unfamiliar, or maybe you just weren’t good at paying attention, yet now that it was materializing before you— It overwhelmed you.

It was breaking you open.

You bite your lower lip, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“… I-I don’t know, I don’t think my dad would like that very much.”

“And I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like the idea of his lil’ girl getting hurt.”

There he goes again, towering over you, his cocky eyes never once leaving your face. Lil’ girl my ass, you can’t help but think. I’m tall, asshole. You just so happened to be taller.

“I’ll walk you home.” He reiterates. Now it’s an announcement, not a proposal. “You can tell me to leave when we’re near. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

“… Miles,” The way his name rolls off your tongue had him weak, and you couldn’t even tell. “.. Okay, fine— But, only up until the Gristedes down the block. Until then, you go home, alright?”

Your voice was too soft, too mellow. It made his breath hitch, made his neck tense in this already cold weather.

“Aight.”

[kxxkiecxre]

ʚ✟⃛ɞ LANGUAGE || J.J.K ʚ✟⃛ɞ

PAIRING: Jungkook X reader.

SUMMARY: forgive and forget… with a little dick on the side of course to make up for it.

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected sex, a lot of titty talk, a lot of hickeys, Jungkook has a big dick 🫣, so much kissing, Yeji is literally in the other room???, overstimulation cause purrrr, biting… I think that’s it? Lol

GENRE: best friends brother au.

Unedited because I bitch couldn’t be bothered… tbf tho I did edit a small bit but I hate editing so 🤭

WC: 5.3k

PREVIOUSLY… NEXT…

JUST LIKE many other people that surrounded you at the shop, you were tired, aching and internally screaming as you approached the lengthy queue, hoping to god another till opens up so you can get out of here as fast as possible and get home take a shower and sleep.

It’s been quite in the recent five months that you’ve last spoken to Jungkook, and like any good friends you and Yeji still hang out and talk. Which proved to be a little harder at first then you expected, but to your luck Jungkook has left for a match in America a couple days ago, so you and Yeji get to finally have a much needed sleepover at her place.

Rolling your neck around and trying your best to not fall asleep in the middle of the shop. As if to wake you up, a shopping cart bumps into you, and you whip around to look at the culprit, only to find two tiny hands holding onto the bar.

“Oh sorry!” The kid mumbles cutely, a floppy mess of hair on top of his head.

“Where’s your dad handsome?” You questioned, finally meeting the babies eyes, warm gentle and sweet.

“He said he’ll be back in two seconds” he smiled cutely, “and I’m five today!”

“Oh wow you’re five? Well happy birthday buddy” you smile just as you see his dad, a drop dead gorgeous man, approach.

“Thank you” he chuckles happily.

“I’m sorry, I hope he didn’t cause too much trouble” his dad, a tall beautiful Angel apologies.

Almost like you’re in a trance you softly say, “he’s a sweet kid, I don’t think you have to worry about him causing trouble”.

“Dad, can I ask her name?” The kid asks as his dad lifts him up in his arms.

“Well that depends if the lady will tell you her name.” He shrugs chuckling.

“I’m Y/N, what about you?”

“My name is roowon and this is my dad Seokjin!” He announces proudly.

“Nice to meet you guys!” You coo at him as he gives the sweetest smile to you.

Within small talk you exchanged numbers with Seokjin, promising to have dinner together as soon as both of your schedules clear up. And however much you may like about Seokjin, whose divorced from his wife for a year now, you can’t seem to stop thinking about someone who wasn’t even yours in the first place or the pain that comes with it.

Finding comfort in the warmth of your house did very little, and as much as you like the taste of your favourite wine, you know it won’t suffice the emptiness within you. Not even in a million years, but it does the job of keeping you calm.

However it doesn’t stop you from calling Jimin, and don’t get it wrong the sex is amazing, and Jimin is great. He’s apologised for what went down, and choosing pleasure over pain was too good to let go. You’re not one to hold grudges anyway, you’d rather forgive and forget.

But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what you needed, what you craved for. It wasn’t what you knew would settle the pain. And you felt awful about it, because Jimin was more than understanding as he laid beside you. Any woman would be lucky to have him, he’s a great person. The perfect guy even. The thing about you though, is you don’t fancy perfect. You like the waves that come with life, you adapted to that life. It’s all you know, since forever.

And life is just that, wavy, rocky and unsettled. But it’s comforting, it’s home. And Jimin… Jimin deserves better than that, he deserved someone as loving and perfect like him. He’s an Angel, an Angel you haven’t yet grown to appreciate. Which is ridiculous. Laughable. Stupid, even. Because any other sensible woman would ground him, marry him in a heart beat, and perhaps in another life you could see yourself with him. Having a family and a loving home, but at this moment? I’m this life? You don’t even know what the true meaning of a loving home is. You just don’t.

You’ve never had the comfort of your mothers embrace, or the comfort of your fathers protection. You’ve only ever had yourself. When you were little you’d cry yourself to sleep, you’d hug your own little body and comfort yourself the way your parents couldn’t. You didn’t have anyone to care for you, to worry about your late returns home on a night out. Your parents didn’t even have your number saved in their phone. They just didn’t care.

From a young age, you learned to fend for yourself. Cook, clean, and eventually make money to afford the things you needed, the things your own parents couldn’t provide.

The only thing you do remember, is the beatings, the way your skin would burn with every slap, whip and hit. The way you eventually stopped crying for them to stop, or the way your teenage self would wash away the blood or cover up the bruises. You knew all about that. You knew all too well how the rage in your fathers eyes was the only sense of comfort or attention you’ve ever gotten from him, the way your mother would grab onto your skin and dig her nails in, the way she’d scream and insult you and wish upon your death, that was the only touch of ‘love’ you’ve ever expected from her, the only attention you’ve ever received from them was just that, abuse. Neglect and pain.

Feeling loved, cared about and needed was more than welcome, but it was also more than strange. So maybe it wasn’t understandable, why you’d get slightly uncomfortable when someone would show you love, or kindness, and why you pushed away the people closest to you when they cared and worried about you because you never actually knew what it was before, so you weren’t used to it, so you pushed them away.

It’s bizarre how you want to love someone, to care and worry about them, yet don’t know how to feel about that being returned to you. You don’t know.

You carry the scars well though, they’re fairly easy to cover up and pretend like you’ve had the most general upbringing known to humanity. It’s, amazing.

Tiredness takes over you, and you finally fall asleep. Jimin watched the calmness on your face, covering you with the blanket more and exhaling. He knew about everything, he knew. He’s seen it too, maybe that’s why he knows you so well, he kisses your forehead before leaving your apartment and leaving a note.

The difficulty of waking up in the morning never gets easier, especially when you expected a warm body next to you, except to find it empty and cold. Confusion taking over your face as you roll out of bed, throwing on whatever first lands in your hands.

Your concern gets even worse when you notice the small letter on your kitchen counter, labelled Jimin.

You know better than to continue wasting time, I know you can never love me the way I’ve loved you for years, but within these years, I’ve learned that our souls are intertwined anyway, because I know exactly what you need, what you crave and what hurts you. I know it all in an instant. It’s almost like my body needs it too, and right the second I met him, I knew. I knew you were madly in love with him, I knew then, I had no chance. So within my frustration, I drank, far too much and let my mouth run. I am sorry. I know I apologised already, but I truly am sorry. You didn’t deserve it. I’ll move on eventually, I’ll learn to love someone else, like I’ve learned to keep your eyes staring into mine somewhere In the back of my mind, like I’ve learned to desensitise the scent of your hair away from my senses, or the need to feel your soft skin against my fingers. I’ve learned to love you from a distance, to care and appreciate you as much as I can because I knew that eventually, you’d fell in love with someone, that someone not being me was hard to accept at first, but it got easier. But stop the pettiness, fix the mess and go to him, you deserve love. You deserve to be happy, so be just that.

Happy,

Jimin.

That was absolutely not what you expected first thing in the morning, or the tears in your eyes. Or the guilt your body felt knowing you were unintentionally hurting Jimin. You wish it was easier. Easier to learn to love someone you don’t crave in that way. Easier to make yourself fall in love with someone who deserves you. You wish it was easy.

But nothing in life comes easy.

No, every step and breathe you take comes with effort. With every take want and need, you have to give. For the basic essentials and human life, you have to work. All day, all night, all life. Eternally. Everything has to be earned, because nothing. Absolutely nothing, comes free.

Work. Most of the time you hate it, but recently, it’s become your favourite place. You can take your mind off of everything going on in your life, invoke your mind with something else other than him. The person who so cruelly cut a hole in your heart and stole it, put it in his pocket and let it rot. How inhumane.

The bustle of the busy streets of Seoul always comforted you in some type of way. The many lights and many different people, styles and aesthetics made you feel alive, safe and not alone in this big city. It was easy to lose yourself once you were in it, but living here for half your life proved to help you out in some way.

“Mr. Kim wants you in his office.. pronto” Hoseok hands you your coffee, clicking number 9 on the elevator and you roll your eyes.

“I swear to almighty Jesus if he just wants to stare at me for five minutes and then ask me to order him lunch I will literally murder him with my hands” you grumble, obviously not amused.

“I don’t think that’s it…” he mumbles.

Sighing you walk out in a rush once the elevator dings, nodding a thank you to Hobi for getting you the much needed coffee. Preparing yourself for anything and everything outside of Kim’s office you finally enter the door, where he stands in almighty glory, looking good as ever.

“Y/N, please take a seat” he says, and you do, sitting in front of his desk and reading the name tag ‘CEO Kim Taehyung’ in pure awkwardness as he stares at you and then a letter.

“You need a break,” he takes a sip of his coffee as if the words he just said hurt him deeply, “take it and go before I throw a fit”

Shocked and taken a back you begin to protest, “hold on, Taehyung, no”.

“It’s Mr.Kim at work dumbass, now go before I literally slap you”

“But-“

“No but’s, unless we are talking about the other type of butts” he smirks chuckling.

“Tae are you pulling a prank on me?”

“Y/NNNAAAH, be professional and call me Mr.Kim” he whines dramatically.

“Shut up before I kick you in the balls,” you grumble, “why?”

“Because you’ve worked hard and as your only other male best friend aside from Hoseok, I am adamant on you getting a break before the bags under your eyes sue me”

“Oh don’t be dramatic,” you stand from your chair scoffing, “I’m fine, now let me get back to work”

“No can do workacholic,” he sets his mug on the table, “it’s home or the security guard will kick you out… or I’ll fire you.”

Shocked and gasping quite dramatically you say, “you would never.”

“Wanna find out?” He continues threatening.

“Kim Taehyung wait till I tell your father how manipulative you are” you practically growl at him as he pushes you other the door, and before he can take his hand away from your shoulder you bite him as hard as you can.

Flinching and gasping he looks flabbergasted as you straighten your back and sway your hips on the way out, “you are insane Y/N, INSANE” he yells after you.

At the elevator, once again, you ponder what to do now. Work was like your best distraction every since everything went down, Tae did a good job helping you mould yourself together and not to mention how considerate and sweet he was during that time. Taehyung’s wife was just a replica of him, except even better because she was a woman, and understood certain matters better than him.

Regardless, you sighed, opening your messages app and clicking onto Seokjin’s contact, messaging him a short “hey, off work for a couple days, want to have dinner soon?” And locked your phone again when the elevator reached third floor.

“Jung Hoseok, you dirty little cheating work husband, I will grab your balls and tie them in a knot the next time you choose to lie to me” you squint your eyes at him as you sit at the edge of his desk, watching as he gulps a little.

“I can explain,” he offers.

“No need, tell Yoongs to leave me a free space in a couple days hmm?”

“Can’t you ring him yourself-“

“He’s your roommate Jung, please he’ll listen to you more because you’re like number one best friends brothers thingy” you sigh rolling your neck around to release the gas that’s stuck.

“You’re so sly sometimes babe” he kissed his teeth as he leaned back into his chair.

“Mmm wonder where I got that from huh?”

Rolling his eyes with a small chuckle, he runs a hand through his dark hair, “you’re lucky I love you”

“On the contrary, you’re lucky I love you” you smiled.

“Besides, why do you need yoongi?”

Silence, dead silence fell into the atmosphere and Hobi figured you out in less than three seconds, “really?”

You nodded, biting your lip “a tattoo? I mean are you sure? Like that’s permanent?”

“Hoseok I know what a tattoo is” you dead pan, “I’ve been thinking of getting one for awhile anyway…”

His eyes turn worried for a minute, as he very gently speaks, “and you’re not just acting out because of you know….. Jungkook?”

Blinking you scoff, “you’re threading on thin ice Jung,” you get off his desk, leaning over him as you stare him dead in the eyes, face too close for comfort, “no man could make me do anything.”

Once you’re a safe distance from him, he lets out a breath shuddering a little, “do you forget I am a man sometimes?”

“No,” you smile sweetly, “I love watching you squirm because of me babe”

“I’m gonna divorce you”

“Awe too bad love, work couples can’t divorce.”

“Aren’t you suppose to be going home? Should I get Taehyung?”

Mouth falling open your eyes turn into slits and Hoseok prepares himself for the mouth full he’s about to get, “I will bite you and him. I won’t hesitate Jung Hoseok, besides keep messing with me and I’ll quit, no more seeing me no more free coffee and homemade lunch bitch” you walk away with a scoff.

Hoseok rushes towards you, desperately trying to catch up, “please not the homemade lunch,”

“Pfft, good luck sucker, he’s given me a week off” you stick your tongue out like a child once the elevator dings and the doors close.

“I’ve got both because I didn’t know what to choose” you mutter cutely as you set the wine and grocery bag on the counter.

Yeji stands beside you, eyes big and bright and expression that of a mellow kitten, like a child whose sipped on the most heavenly hot chocolate, “I missed you.”

Your heart skips a beat, internally beating yourself up for neglecting her during this whole thing. You awe as you hug her tightly, the smell of her strawberry shampoo never changing, “I’ve missed you too Ji.”

“I’m sorry, he can be an asshole sometimes but he shouldn’t be able to get between us” she mutters into your hair.

Your chest tightens as you hear her sniffle, she didn’t deserve this. You shouldn’t of done this to her, made her suffer with you. You’ve been a bad friend and you can recognise that, and you feel like utter shit about it because Yeji is priceless, she’s a diamond in disguise.

“I am so so sorry Yeji, I shouldn’t have let him get between us.”

The rest of the night was spent eating junk food and consuming an unhealthy amount of wine. As SpongeBob plays in the background and you apply the tiger sheet face mask on Yejis face you begin to tell her about Seokjin and Roowon.

“Was he good looking?”

“Oh ‘Ji,” you sigh heavily, “if you’ve only seen him, he’s like an Angel. God he’s gorgeous”

“Yah thats not fair! I wanna see him now”

“I’ll try sneak a picture of him when I’ll see him for dinner?”

Just as you say that, the sound of the hallway door dinging interrupts you, and both you and Yeji exchange looks of concern.

“Ji? I’m home, I hope you have no guy over because I’ll kick him out” the sound of his voice shakes everything inside of you. Everything becomes unstable like a poorly structured building during an earthquake.

Yeji looks at you sorrowfully, “yeah im here”

“The match got rescheduled so I thought I’d surprise you,” his voice faded it out as you didn’t dare to look his way, instead choosing to look at the wooden floor as your knees raised more inward towards to your chest, as if to protect your heart.

The silence was deafening, excruciating as all three of you didn’t know what to say, and you closed your eyes briefly as you cleared your throat, “I, Um, I can go?”

“No” Yeji immediately calls out, her voice, although not loud, seemed to echo off the walls as if even the furniture in the apartment froze in place, speechless.

“I’ll stay out the way don’t worry Ji” he mutters, pecking her head quickly before disappearing into the bathroom.

Yeji looked at you full of guilt, beginning to apologise but you stopped her, “it’s not your fault, plus we’re adults Ji, we can stay in the same room without hurting each other I promise. You’ve nothing to worry about, I’m okay.”

“I didn’t know he was going to be back” she continues, full of guilt.

“Don’t be dramatic, it’s okay. He’s your brother, besides, it’s not like I hate him. I still love him Ji, he was my best friend, that’ll never go away”.

For the rest of Jungkooks evening, all he had heard was your laughter. It rang through his body like an electric shock and he regretted everything. He hated himself for letting this drag on for this long, he hated that he couldn’t be there with you, laughing and sharing jokes like usually.

He drowned himself in everything possible to avoid hearing the conversation about a guy you met and how amazing he was, he worked, listened to music, texted his friends. But nothing worked.

And as the night died down and the house was consumed with silence. He laid on his bed, reminiscing the moments were he was your best friend. He remembered the time you went strawberry picking, you were dressed in the cutest outfit imaginable, a faded pink and white checkered dress, with pink wellies. Hair tied back in a bun with a strawberry claw clip.

He remembered how you shared the entire summer together, how he thought you to swim and how excited you were to be able to go to the depths of the ocean with him. How in love he was with you in the moment, the way your big surprised eyes stared into his as he dived underneath the water and came back up behind you, the way you’d call him Kookie in the times you needed him the most.

He remembers how you hate thunderstorms. How he spent the entire night with you on your couch, letting you cuddle into him and falling asleep in his lap.

It exactly that he regrets.

He regrets that he ruined the way you felt comfortable and safe around him and now he fears you’ll never be like that again.

For what seems like hours, Jungkook tosses and turns in his bed. Huffing in slight annoyance that his brain won’t shut off. Leaving his room in a haste he enters the kitchen, stilling for a moment as he sees you sat on the kitchen island, legs kicking back and forth as if you’re in deep thought.

He felt creepy standing there watching you eat your favourite cherry chocolates, the ones that had liquor inside. He remembers how much you love them.

He couldn’t go back to his room now, that’d be too awkward, especially since you’ve locked eyes with him for a mere second through the glass of the cupboards. He cleared his throat gently, going to the fridge to get his favourite whiskey, he could feel your presence behind him and he knew you were looking but you were stubborn.

You would not be the first one to say a word, he knows that, which is why he reaches for a second glass and fills both of them, turning to you with sad eyes, his hand extends toward you, holding the glass of whiskey outward, not thinking much you take it from him, throwing the liquid to the back of your throat and sighing. He does the same.

“I’m,” he clears his tight voice, “I’m sorry”.

You say nothing, biting your lip as he continues on, “I was out of line for the things I said. I’m aware, but I couldn’t help but feel protective. I’m sorry.”

“I was only angry because I have begged you to not get disqualified because of me, but you did that despite all of my begging” you whispered, barely audible and staring ahead as he looked at the side of your face.

“I’m sorry,” he swallows the lump in his throat, “I really am”.

“I know” is all you say. Not really giving him much aside from pushing the box of chocolate towards him.

“I miss you,” he mutters, “I miss having you in my life”.

Finally, as if your heart couldn’t take it, you look right into his eyes and he swears his knees buckle a little, despite your eyes looking a little sad, you smile gently at him, “I miss you too”.

“I never meant to say all those things, god Y/N, if I could go back in time” he closes his eyes. You pull on his shirt, pulling him between your legs as you hug him.

“Well you can’t,” you muffle in his chest as his arms tighten around you, “but, you can make it up to me?”.

You feel him nod as he not so sneakily sniffs your scent, “you can take Yeji out tomorrow, spend some quality time with her. She’s worried about you Kook, she needs her brother, she needs just a little bit of your time”.

He hugs you tighter, kissing your head, “I promise I will”.

You pull away, smiling gently at him as you peck his cheek, “good”.

You don’t know wether it was the buzz from the whiskey and alcohol infused chocolates, but whatever it was, it made your eyes drop to his lips. God he looked so good, hair messy and his sleeve on display. Fuck was he beautiful.

Almost like he could smell your slightly horny phase, he leans in deeper, eyes darkened a deep shade and his hand innocently laid on your waist, “you ok?” He asks.

Asshole, “yeah” your voice came out a little breathy within your whisper, and your entire aura soaked Jungkook in shudders. The way you were sat, legs spread to accommodate him between them, white shirt doing absolutely nothing to cover your perky pierced nipples.

He couldn’t take it anymore, and neither could you.

Looking into his eyes, your lips separated, inviting him in as your noses ever so gently brushed against each other, his hooded gaze solemnly fixated on your lips, and yours on his eyes, “what are you doing to me y/n” his voice husky, whispering in your ear.

“Kiss me Jungkook” your breathing got heavier and so has his, and he shook his head gently, scoffing in denial as your lips brushed past each other.

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck,” you gasped, as he licked your earlobe, what a fucking tease, “yes Jungkook”.

Not wasting anymore time he attached his lips on yours, moving them in rhythm as he basically abused the flesh, barely giving you any time to catch your breath as he switched his head from side to side, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you in closer, you could feel yourself growing wet, soaking your panties as you grabbed onto his shirt, nails digging into his skin as your hands travelled to his back, within pulling each other closer neither of you realised how close you have gotten, too immersed in the smacking of your lips as your core rubbed against his, hard and poking through his tracksuits.

You moaned right into his mouth and he swallowed it up, fuck he’d do anything for you. He’s dreamt of feeling your lips on his for years. His mouth travelled from your swollen lips to your neck, “fuck take my shirt of Kook”.

He could nut right there as you gave him all these orders, but he listened, slipping your shirt off to find your perky tits so ready for his mouth, he laid you back against the cool counter his mouth never giving up his abuse on your skin, marking nipping anywhere possible but the neck, he couldn’t be bothered to explain to his sister. He sucked bruises onto your boobs, hearing your quiet moans as he took one nipple into his mouth, twirling the pink nub with his tongue, before moving onto the other, but not before biting each nipple gently, the cold that was left on your nipples after his warm mouth worked you up even more as he trailed his kisses down your stomach, to your hips, once again sucking biting and bruising, fuck he loved your skin.

“Take your shirt of” you mumble quietly, taking your tits in your hands and rubbing the nipples in small circles, fuck he did not expect to ever see you like this. Sprawled out on his kitchen island, hands on your boobs and your panties sporting a wet patch on your clothed pussy telling him just how turned on your are right now. Shit.

His mouth latched onto your thighs before moving onto your clothes pussy, smothering his face in the warmth of it as you gasped quite loudly, smacking your hand on your mouth to keep quiet. Fuck. His tongue ran a strip from the bottom to the top, the fact that the only material keeping his tongue from touching you directly was your underwear was driving you insane.

“Kook fuck me already”

“I don’t have a condom” he said against you.

“Fuck im clean and on the pill”

“I’m clean too”

Without any more words, he helped you up, taking your panties to the side and taking his grey sweats down his legs. Fuck. His dick was hot, long and thick, tip red and oozing precum.

Fucking hell.

He ran his tip up and down your pussy, collecting your arousal before he eased gently inside you. Letting you adjust to him. You could feel him everywhere, his throbbing tip kissing your cervix as he bottomed out. And fuck were you so full, so deliciously full of him. With the way you relaxed he knew you were ready, slowly and carefully moving in and out, his hand found purchase on your shoulder, pushing you down gently as he watched the way your tits bounced slowly.

The way you moaned so quietly and the way your chest heaved, fuck you were absolutely ravishing to watch. Your skin was marked by his lips everywhere, stomach littered in bruises, hips and tits too, everywhere but your neck and it looked so inviting right now, begging for him to give it the same attention, and before he could think straight, he went for it, nipping at the skin of your neck as his body leaned fully into yours, before you could even take a breath he picked up the pace, smacking his hips lewdly into yours, his balls slapping of your ass as the noise bounced around the room. The sound your lips made as your lips connected once again adding to the mix.

It was hot, it was wet and it was loud. But it felt amazing, it felt too good to stop. The way he ramming into, hitting all the right spots as you mewled underneath him, the knot in your stomach tightening at the feel of his tip abusing your cervix, but before you could release he sat you up, edging your ass to almost be off the counter before he gripped onto it and hammered himself into you, the only rational part of you hid your face in his neck, moaning as he fucked right into you, he tugged onto your hair as he leaned his forehead into yours, both of you watching the way his dick disappeared into your swollen cunt, and then it hit you, like a ton of bricks, you clenched around him, your legs twitching slightly as you came around him, your orgasm hurting in all the right ways like if you were electrocuted, you could feel it from your toes to your head.

He was close behind, his hips stilling as his dick throbbed, twitching the slightest bit before he coated your walls white. Leaning against your palms on the counter you tried catching your breath again, and before you could say anything, he was on his knees, his mouth latching onto your clit as you yelped, sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“Kook I can’t”

“Yes you can baby,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by your pussy, “for me”

Groaning you gasped as he sucked onto your clit, twirling your sensitive nub with his tongue as he eased his finger into you, hooking it up and fucking you slowly.

The mix of mouth and finger was intoxicating the way he was making out with your pussy was sinful but you couldn’t get enough, especially not when your legs shook, your eyes teared up and his hands soothed your legs, he switched his finger and tongue, fucking you slowly with his warm tongue and drawing figure eights onto your clit and fuck you couldn’t take it.

Slapping down your hand on the counter you moaned his name as you came for the second time this night, legs shaking and chest heaving as he stood up, kissing your lower belly before he grinned above you.

“What do you say for round three in the bathroom?”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A/N: part three? I mean they haven’t resolved much except for some steamy sex? 🤭

MASTERLIST

NO REPOSTING, EDITING, TRANSLATION OR COPYING OF ANY OF MY WORKS!

[wifeofsnowbaird]

You put a spell on me

[A/N: I was too lazy to wait for the end of the poll. also i haven't watched the show and wikipedia is kinda holding me up so don't get mad at me for messing smth up, i'll go on the fan wiki tho, they always have everything.]

[EDIT: guys I forgot about the civil war 💀💀💀 I finally fixed it tho so yay]

Part 1/Part 2

Masterlist

[Billy the Kid (Tom Blyth's version) x desi!oc]

Warning: description of blood, slight violence, flogging, racism, flogging, slaves, smut in maybe part 6?

Summary: Sheila was a slave taken by a British couple at the age of 12 for her singing. She was brought to America even though they had the 13th Amendment where slavery was abolished. She saw a friend of hers, who was brought with her, getting flogged and that was her last straw, proceeding to run away. Until she sees the most notorious outlaw in the South, then she settles to free her friends from the British couple that came to America for money.

It was July.25, 1878, Lincoln County, New Mexico. Sheila woke up to nothing but harsh screams coming from one of her friends as she was beaten and whipped. She felt worried because the girl was new…Unlike Sheila who had been with the owner since she was twelve, merely because his wife liked her singing when they had come to visit British India.

Her friend, Catherine, was a sad sixteen-year-old, mourning the death of her parents. They had threatened the owners of telling law enforcement what was happening but they knew that they wouldn't do anything about it.

The other slaves ran to her screams but were faced with fear and did nothing besides revel in their powerlessness. Sheila sat there, her damp brown skin and greasy raven hair clinging to her shell of a body. She knew how this would end, knew that they would be feeble against the man–Edward J. Mason– but she was ready to clean Catherine’s wounds and reassure her that she would be alright.

“Oh, look at my slave, Sheila, so obedient! You never have to hurt her, Edward!”

The sadistic gray-haired man chuckled, kissing his wife.

“ And aren’t I glad, Penelope! We chose her when she was twelve, it has been seven years since, of course, she’d love us, this is why I love Indians! They always gift us with beauty and trust.”

They both glanced at the gaunt, starved girl before chuckling. The Mistress patted Sheila’s head and reached for a rake beside her, beckoning to the other slaves. 

Penelope Mason was a woman no different from her husband. Many wives were afraid of their spouses but Penelope was a wife who had nothing but pride in her bones. The rake in Penelope’s hand was covered in blood, meant to whip the slaves that threatened their control and most times Sheila could willing block out the screeches and screams, but now she just felt angry, ready to beat the couple with no morals. 

But she was stuck being useless to defend them.

Fear is a burden that was attached to her like a drug, and only withdrawal held her back from screaming her heart out.

Until she found a boy with the brightest blue eyes. 

From what she’d heard, he was an outlaw.

Billy the Kid was infamous because he was the man who killed a sheriff months ago, and chased out of the state. It was a mystery how he gained the courage to return to New Mexico.

“ Who’re you?” The man questioned, his vibrant cobalt eyes gazing at her with hostility.

Sheila didn’t want to think more about the dominant color in his entire posture and frame. His clothes were darker than sin and brighter than the sun, but his eyes were the only thing she could pay attention to, causing her to ignore their proximity.

“ I am a slave, belonging to the Mason family.”

He tilted his head, shocked eyes analyzing their surroundings.

“ I didn’ ask what you were forced to be, I asked who you are.”

“ My name is Sheila, is that what you want?”

“ Huh, I’m Billy, but considerin’ the poster you were starin’ at a min’ ago, you already know that. But...how did you...No, how dare they have slaves!”

The dividers were made by @wandanatromanova

[gemsofthegalaxy]

Hello hi 👋 if you are willing to indulge me I would love to hear any and all of your Canadian Greg thoughts!!

I am also a Canadian Greg truther but I live in America so I can’t imagine the full extent of what it means for him to be a Canadian boy™

Ooooohhhh hell yeah I love to share the Good Word about Canadian Greg at least from my thoughts

while I tend to tweak his background based on the specific fic I am writing here in there, I really truly believe Greg has moved around a lot in his life. I like to think in fact he's got American citizenship/was probably born there but after his dad (presumably) left after he (presumably) cheated on Greg's mother, they moved back to Canada so Marianne could be closer to Ewan (for better or for worse considering Ewan is....... kinda a dick imo) and now he's a dual-citizen, always an interloper, never quite Canadian enough but not quite settled into American culture.

Partially due to my own experience I think he grew up mostly in Ontario, he doesn't come across as, like, Quebecois to me tho neither do Ewan or Logan despite canonically being raised there so uh you know, and I only ever spent 5 weeks in Quebec myself. but, French Canadian peoples tend to be connected to their Francophone identities in my experience with Acadians and other Francophones in other areas of Ontario, so yeah i mean idk. It's not impossible but he feels more Ontarian, I could see some Western hcs but I've never been further West so like........... i stick him in Ontario bc it's what I know better.

On that, I think he speaks passable but not excellent French with an Okay accent, he likes and knows hockey, has a variety of Canadian slang he doesn't pull out around his US folks. He likes colour-coded Canadian money because it's easier, dammit.

I also like to imagine him spending a bit of time in small town Atlantic Canada, that is the epitome of self-indulgence for Me because that's where my own actual experience mostly lies. He has some random factoids about fishing. I like to imagine he did Little Rocks which is a curling program for kids, he was almost definitely a Scout (he might have moved to Canada young enough to be a Beaver Scout🥺) and he knows, how to safely start a fire and camping basics (i think he prefers to stay in a cabin to a tent tho lmfao), and I believe he genuinely likes some outdoorsy activities, such as hiking, but also wants to be able to retreat to a comfortable area and not be left out in the rain or anything like that.

I think he was raised Catholic which could be anywhere lmao and knows how to hunt but doesn't love it (which I think it was said he did in the scripts in Hunting, as well as Tom, but I can't recall?). I think he made friends that always felt temporary, he was often the new kid and always the weird gawky guy, but he got along with some people even if he was sometimes the butt of the joke too. He did stupid shit like putting hairspray on his hands and letting other guys light it on fire, partially to fit in and partially because "What's the worst that could happen". Not necessarily exclusive to Canada but I knew these guys irl. So.

One of the things I've noticed that is a big difference between Canadians and US Americans is we don't mythologize or adore our founders the way they do. Unsure impact that has on Greg, but part of me likes to do a little excusing for him, that he rationalizes meddling with American politics and the landscape of the News using the idea that it's not his "Real home", even though he knows damn well the US impacts Canada in a huge way. It's another one of his many excuses, like, "it's not my fault, i'll get in trouble if I don't, i need a job to survive and this one is as good as any" etc.

Finally. Another one of my Greg headcanons despite having 0 evidence canonically and in fact evidence against it to an extent- he likes a good graphic tee. Most of them are stored at his mother's. Most importantly, he owns this:

which i photographed in a real Canadian walmart.

[mycptsdstory]

IM ENGAGED!! 🤩🤩

I got engaged on my birthday, 21st of may. I didn't say anything because I was still in America and my cats were being taken care of by a professional cat sitter. I didn't want my flat to be broken in too. So I waited till I got home lol

I'm gonna be a mom for a minute.

I know it sounds soooo cliché of "tHiNgs WiLl gEt bEtTeR. jUsT hAvE hOpE" bs.

Because let me tell you, you have to fucking heal, at least a little bit before you get anyone in your life. You want to get serious and settle down, then fucking heal. Healing SUCKS, healing fucking hurts. No one says this crap.

I was that girl who thought I didn't deserve love because of my trauma. I was that girl who was harming mysekf, putting myself in dangerous situations, who had depression, who had panic attacks. I hated myself that much, I thought I wouldn't live past 25 years old. Now I'm 31. You're gonna have suck up that pride and ask for help. You're gonna have to reach out. You want to heal, then you have to and I mean YOU HAVE TO put in the work. No one can heal for you. You want to heal, then go and do it.

And yes, you will fall flat on your face. You will fail and it will fucking suck. Healing is all about trial and error. Healing takes practice and fucking god damn work. No healing is the same, what works for someone else, might not work for you. And do you know what, that's okay. Why? We are not the same. No one is you and you are not them. And that's okay.

I had to learn this the hard way and yeahh, it fucking sucked.

After sucking up my pride up my ass, I asked for help. I wanted to heal because I got fed up of doing toxic traits. I didn't want to be that toxic person anymore. I WANTED TO HEAL, FOR ME, NO ONE ELSE.

I knew then, my trauma doesn't define me. My trauma wasn't me, my trauma wasn't my hobbies, my interests, my personality. The trauma is what happened to me and I refused to let the trauma take over me.

I want kids, I want a life with a good job that I love. I can't have that in England. So I'm planning to move to America where I feel safe.

My family is bat shit insane, who refuse to leave me the fuck alone. Even tho I left 8 years ago. So I'm moving country.

I finally found a person who loves me for me and that's all I ever wanted.

Remember, you do deserve love and you do deserve peace. Give yourself more credit.

[cozymochi]

🌻 >:)

IM FOUND ONE OF THESE MEMES IN MY DRAFts! Im gonna rank my experiences in the major fandoms i’ve engaged with.

🩵 YUGIOH! - Second longest running fascination. Upside!! Made life long friends. DOWNSIDE!! Was my first go at online engagement and in those 10 years so much happened that I still can’t help but feel a little sour. …Though ygo back in the day wasn’t good at tag comments, so I didn’t even know those were a thing for years until I branched out. 5/10. But grows to a 7/10 because i’ve settled into a niche area with so few people that it’s now a silly little club. 💕

🧡 Dragon Ball/Z - GENUINE CHAOS. Started off slow but intensified hard cuz get who got involved while Super was airing??? (I didn’t watch it lol), so the discourse and fighting was at an all time high. I have no idea how I even survived this in retrospect. My slight association with people netted me troll asks and my liking of Yamcha also set me up for those. …and frequent art reposting, and quite a few bizarre interactions. Pretty sure my art and edits have circulated more in latin america than I even know. This was also pre-tumblr purge so the amount of nsfw that got thrown my way is… something. That said!! Made also really good friends 💕 and DB/Z probably desensitized me to longer form discussions. 5/10 for insanity, but 8/10 for good reception and VERY PEAK and generous humans.

I think dbz hardened me.

💚 Invader Zim- started off fun (mostly irl with my friendo from days of YGO), but quickly devolved into territory that tested my patience. WHY ON EARTH THIS SERIES’ CONSUMERS had such a huge morality high ground base is beyond me. It’s this fandoms fault I learned about certain modern day online discourse terms and what instilled an irrational posting fear for a year lol. Fun at first and there’s super creative and receptive folk (then those people got kicked out) and left the most insufferable beings imaginable. There’s no in between. Shoutout to all 3 friends made who are still peak. 3/10, if I ever finish any remaining projects or decide to bite the bullet and show completed work, i’m not engaging again. The base just skews somewhere I can’t handle. Which is crazy given the ABOVE contenders have, on paper, done so much more.

dbz hardened me but iz weakened me. Which is probably why i need the formers bootcamp back. Don’t think I’m as fearful now, but i’ll still be salty.

💜 Twisted Wonderland - this is a work in progress experience. Will require further evaluation if all of the above experiences haven’t set my standards. Will stay in my corner. So far it’s 6/10 in vibes (they’re much calmer than the last one), tho I question how much of the interest is from what i do vs. what I did for others. Haven’t shared a ton of opinions yet and god knows lol we don’t want that /s. Still recovering from the former making me wanna just not do much. Baby steps I suppose.

💙 - Sonic The Hedgehog: This is a cheat, I have never interacted with the fandom directly (purely by happenstance, so thankfully no traces exist), but I have been into this since I was a child with no issues. So by default this is the best one. 10/10, didn’t engage, but I do lurk. Though all the stuff I see on tweeter isn’t exactly anything out of the norm for fandoms in general to do, so it weirds me out that people rag on this one for just kinda talking amongst themselves about innocuous things.

“omg this fandom is arguing over QUILL length ughhh can they never be pleased [30 yt videos about this drop]” ngl, this just feels like par for the course junk fandoms do. It really feels no different from DBZ where people go ham about the art style changes and which one is better. Or stupid shit in IZ where they fight about comics vs movie vs show. Like??? The only major difference here is that StH has more people in it (by the millions).

So literally nothing these folk do or say strikes me as anything more serious than what other fandoms already do??? Its just more outsiders see it then churn out content and perpetuate something worse from what’s honestly….pretty tame stuff. Maybe it’s just twitter’s setup given that’s all folk talk about.

[bigmack2go]

Continuing my parents guides

As allways: if you are a parent, DO NOT use these. Im begging you save your child the embarrassment. This is only for educational purposes and so you know what we are talking about when we use these.

That being said imma teach u the months to you now. Dont u dare interupt me i know u know the months. But u dont. So stfu. (Haha did u do ur homework? Do u know what stfu means?)

Okay lets go

So January is new starts and shit thats not something that only we do

February is honestly nothing special. Maybe we make fun of it being short like we do woth our friends but even that isnt very common

Now march, march is where the fun begins. March is when caesar was murdered. We usually have a bunch of phineas and ferb memes. Its also womens month.

In april spiritual people, religious people etc often do what imma simplify to you as „recharge“. Theres also a whole lot of complaints about the weather so theres that.

I honestly dont think may has anything special but i have adhd so i might be forgetting smt major rn lmao

June. Listen, we love june. June is the month of the ✨guh-guh-guh-gaAYS✨. (June is pridemonth)

And in july we complain that companies only use pride month for promo.

August. Im gonna be honest im not really objective on this bc its my birthday in august so thats sortof the only thing august stand for to me lmao. Its summer tho, i can say that

Ooo the embers… this is gona be great

September usually gets roasted for being bisexual(?) in september the most people get cancelled (2024 is an exception prolly)

Oktober is the month of creativity. Its not actually lmao i just said that. Because in October we usually make a bunch of art challanges (or other challanges for each day. And then we put „tober“ at the end and tadaa. Inktober! Costober! Fotober! And all that. That originally began bc well obv october is helloween month right? Right. So they did this thing called spooktober. Which can be each of those, it just has to be scary yk? And because America is weird and they do halloween wrong (/hj) they just don’t always use the spook and instead make whatever tober. (This whole explanation was a joke. Pls dont cancel me) and then theres hell week

Now hold your horses and settle your seatbelts for november cuz dis gon be a hell of a ride. It’s honestly actually not that much. Its just one thing but you’re gonne be a little disturbed after it. So november is NNN which is short for No Nut November. Boys chllange themselves to not masturbate or do anything sexual for that whole month. I have no idea where that came from so dont kick me. Its not my fault. Anyway youre gonna see a whole lot of people setting their profile pictures to eggs. Now ik i said its only one thing but see- it is one thing. The eggs are related to that. A whole egg means they still havent „lost“ nnn. A broken egg signals people in comentsections to pay respect to their fallen brother/the fallen soldier (youre gonna find some of both brother and soldier) also when i said we love the tembers its because some people make variations of this in september oktober and December too. Idek

December is basically just Christmas.

ByyEEE

[trekkiewatt]

The following letter of 1824 was addressed to Charles McCutchan-Johnstone (later known as Charles ~McJohnston), who was the first settler at MC:Cutchanville, Indiana, in 1819. It was written to him by his sister-in-law, Ameha Fox McCutchan-Johnstone, from the Foxbrook estate in County Meath, and dated March 29, 1824.

My very dear and much beloved brother- I embrace the opportunity of one of our workmen going out to America to write to you. I received your letter a few days ago. It was a welcome letter indeed: It brought us the pleasing news of you and your family being in good health and that poor, still dear, tho unfortunate, Robert is alive.

'Twas reported in this country he was dead. 'Tis almost a year and half since his last letter to me. I wrote several to both you and to him and sent them to Dublin to a person I thought would have got them sent either to England or America, but I believe they were never sent. I have lived the last year at Foxbrook with my family. I have been greatly tossed by the lease of Goshen dropping. There was so much rent due at the time. I moved my furniture. Thot I might try to get a valuation for the timber for which (except the young ones) there was no registry. His Lordship has agreed to allow me a valuation for them when I am leaving. This which I have taken at 30 per acre (as tenant at will, for he gives no lease to anyone), and I am to pay the arrears at 20 pounds half yearly until all is paid. Not knowing what to do or where to get a place cheaper. Indeed I tried, and as bad as Goshen is I could get no place that would answer me so well- for living so far from Corboy was a ruinous thing. Many a time this year I have sighed and wished I was living near you. To describe all my mind and body has suffered since I saw you would be to much for me.

I feel a hope when my boys have their professions that we will go and settle in your country. My son Matthew is in his second year in the college, and Robert is studying surgery. I have no doubt but he will be one of the most leading men in his profession. They are both very sensible well minded gentlemanly stout fellows and well looking. Matthew is six foot four inches- Robert beyond six feet, very clever and reckoned very handsome- but he is better than handsome- he is most proper in his conduct as they all are thank God.

Andrew is the same industrious laborious fellow and has little for it. He is a good brother and obedient son. He would gladly go to America if he could, but I can’t grant him leave until his ‘It’s only He can keep you from sin. You cannot keep yourself. Cry mightily to him and he will save you from the tempter, and become a preacher in your family -both by example and precept. By and by you will you will be called on to give an account of your stewardship. May you by divine grace be enabled to be a faithful one- Giving God all the glory. I wish you had a religious wife- one about your own age that would be satisfied to give up all her time and interest herself for the spiritual as well as the temporal advantages of you and your children. Such an one is not easy found. I have been looking all around me everywhere I could think of and say I know no one I could recommend and that would be satisfied to go to America. One has just struck my mind at this moment. ‘Tis likely you may not approve of her. You know her I believe. She is not handsome and rather old- but she is an industrious person rather gentlewoman like and that might be an advantage to your daughters. She has been among the Methodists. I don’t know whether she is now. She is Jack Bickerstaff’s sister and always lives with him- but has a daughter of a very amicable character only I fear you would not get her to go to America, and she might bring a young family that would clash with the interests of the other children.

Therefore it is my duty on that hand to be silent - but if you could come over we would try to get you one your mind for it is not good good for a man to be alone. My very dear Charles I have your interest much at heart and should be glad to see you happily settled both for time and eternity- the woman I mention is both agreeable and notable. I think she must be beyond 40. You must have seen Ally Bickerstaff. I only mention her as she struck my mind since I began to write and never before. If you would not like the idea laugh at it. Write soon and and tell me candidly. Your children as they are of a large greed must be by this time pretty well grown. I fear the want of female society must be a great loss to them- both male and female should be refined, but when females are not it is a sad thing. Give my love to them. Let them have useful improving books to read if you can. Give my love also to Mrs. Hilliard. You did not mention in your last how she is doing. Tell her for me to prepare for eternity. I hope you have family worship with your family night and morn.

My brother Wm. Has a prospect of getting out of his difficulties. He has six sons and two daughters and will soon have the addition of another child. Mathilda has six children. She and Creighton are beginning to do better. I have not seen her since her trip to America. Wm. Goslin is now agent to Lord Froman, he was Colonel Barrey, and as Creighton lives on the estate he has been friendly to him and got him —-(a portion of the letter here is missing).

Amelia McCutchan-Johnstone

March 1824

(PS) - I will write soon again if I get an opportunity. The Douglases are preparing to go. There are numbers going from this neighborhood this year. All that can go are determined to go. Billy Kennedy would gladly take out his family, but is not quite able. He hopes he may at a future period. Tom Gardner intends going in June. So Will Wm. Gardner if he can accomplish it. If I were to set out I think there would be a great many would wish to come with me. Write to know is Robt. Indeed alive or why he does not write to his family-and let me know. My family are still at Foxbrook until May. Only Andrew is here with me. He desires his love to you and yours. Your brother James is doing very well in Longford. He says you lost your-( )- by going to America. So you will see how people differ in their opinion. The fellow who carries this is a hard working well behaved individual. His name is James Taylor. I desire him to put this in the post at New York.

Note: Charles McCutchan-Johnstone had married Maria Fox of Foxbrook, a sister to Amelia, the writer of the above letter, but Maria died shortly before Charles set out for America, so at the time he received this letter at McCutchanville he was a widower. “Still dear though unfortunate “ Robert ( who was not known to be dead or alive) was Amelia’s husband, a brother to Charles. Robert McCutchan-Johnstone came to America but disappeared and it is believed that he died in Philadelphia. Amelia and her son, Robert, eventually came to America and settled in Cleveland, Ohio, where Robert set up a medical practice using the name, Dr. Robert Johnstone. The Mrs. Hilliard mentioned was Charles’s eldest sister, the former Elizabeth McCutchan, who had come from Granard in County Longford, Ireland, in 1819 and settled north of McCutchanville.

brothers are ready. Their professions will support them as gentlemen anywhere. I am told America is a good place for their professions.

My girls are almost quite grown up and improved. I doubt not they could keep a boarding school in some of the cities of America, for to do country work they would not like. I should like the country. I am fond of industry, and I think they would anything to serve themselves. I am sorry to find you do not have not the advantages of religious society, which from your letter I would suppose. Could you not have the Methodist preachers to visit you ? I could not be anywhere I could not have the people of God to visit me and associate with. I think if I was near you I would strive in the name of God to have the to have a neighborhood flaming with the glory of God. Oh my dear brother, betake yourself to prayer. Resist in the name of your redeemer all temptation.

[barbarosgirl]

🎭🌌🌊🤝 for all your ocs :)

full list here

Well, this one is gonna be long considering you ask about all of my babies, and I have a lot of them <3

🎭 What is the one thing your OC regrets most? Would they undo it, considering how their life turned out?

Arthur- He's realistic person, he regrets things but knows if he'd redo them (if possible) it would lead to different fucked up scenarios. But the one thing he'll regret for rest of his life was how little time did he have with his lover at the navy.

Edith- The regrets she has are not her own, rather her dumb husband's (Henry's). She regrets he ever brought up the drug deal, she regrets he didn't come back home to her.

Maggie- She regrets the choices she was forced on, what to do, who to kill. Despite thinking and acting for herself brought her nothing but misfortune, she doesn't regret that.

Eugene- His whole childhood is one big regret, even tho he couldn't do anything to change it. Beside that, he regrets leaving Vito, but sometimes you gotta let people go :)

Natalie- So many regrets and redoes she'd love to do, especially when it comes to her family dynamics and what her father wants for her/what she wants for herself. Perhaps if she'd stay away from Empire Bay as her mother begged her to, she'd have less regrets.

🌌 If your OC has a nightmare, what’s it most likely about?

Arthur- Not nightmares, more like sad dreams of What if's and he always wakes into shitty mood after them (tho he's always in shitty mood)

Edith- Always reoccuring patern of nightmares- either Henry's messed up body she had to identify and bury, her daughter getting hurt because of her, or Vinci's people finding her to finish the job

Maggie- She has mostly dreamless nights, but one nightmare does occur once in a while- her family dead by her feet because of her.

Eugene- His.goddamned.father. His whole fucked up family actually, those pricks are his worth nightmares, even worse since they are not dead and constantly hanging over his head with possibility of finding him.

Natalie- There's no nightmares for her, thankfully. The only incident that used to haunt her, she turned around to own it

🌊 Has your OC ever seen the ocean? If not, do they want to? What do they think of it?

Arthur- Too many times and didn't exactly hate it, wasn't keen on it either. From his navy time he has ptsd so ocean now only brings back bad memories and he'd rather watch lake (at least he can be fishing there)

Edith- She came to America like most immigrants on ship, but she was very little so she doesn't remember it. Between her job, family and religious duties she had little time to see the ocean. And when she had the time, her fear of getting discovered prevented her from leaving her house.

Maggie- Before she settled down with Joe, she used to travel a lot. Seeing the endless horizon was her favourite part of any assigment, so she loves the ocean.

Eugene- Seen the ocean and like most of things, he doesn't have negative or positive feelings. He doesn't understand why anybody would be keen staying at beach, watch the ocean, swim or sunbathe. Tho it'd be pretty funny to see him all dressed up at beach with good old Vito :)

Natalie- Her dream was to travel the world, but it changed thanks to the trauma she went through, in the end she never saw ocean and never thought of going to see it, she's pretty happy with the life she made for herself at Empire Bay

🤝 Does your OC have someone they want at their side when they are scared? Who?

Arthur- He doesn't really get scared, but if he'd have to pick someone, he'd go for his SO. (That would be his deceased boyfriend or Henry later on)

Edith- She feels safe with Vito by her side, as Henr can no longer fulfill that job

Maggie- Pretty fearless woman, but she'd lie if she'd say Joe's presence doesn't soothe her nerves

Eugene- Always his mother, before his life was turned upside down he was total mama's boy

Natalie- Her sister, they have each other's backs always <3

[kontextmaschine]

So, I think I have my bearings again post-election.

In the culture arena, the 2010s-born commanding heights snot-left is shattered and turns on each other, Twitter as on-sides platform being disrupted is a big part

They might be able to wring some backup there from DC, maybe 2 or 3 years from corporate America before they read the writing on the wall

The Dems' midterm Win! leaves them more or less where they were, getting a 51st senate seat gives them committee majorities so stuff comes to the floor quicker & easier, by itself the Senate confirms judges and like the GOP under Trump they do that singlemindedly, getting nearly as many in as Trump, albeit with the very best seats no longer open for filling

The legislative uppity Dems either settle in for more service to the oldsters or mount an insurgency that either just gets slapped down or gets a few token wins to mask being slapped down

The GOP in Congress is the same unstable mess it was, just now an unstably infighting one

In particular they won't manage to get out of the Dems' way as they fight amongst themselves, and will give them things to unite against

Biden pushes some economic stuff which fair, Reagan–Trump kept moving right even under Clinton and at least hardly left under Obama

DeSantis displaces Trump before the primaries start

The Supremes start to dismantle workplace/civil rights/(overlap) law

Russia's pullback from Ukrainian territory just conserves lives and materiel as it switches focus to "break NATO". It at least chips it. Putin's cultivated a militant "civil society" that pushes right as third parties, it gets a bit out of his control but the CIA can't well build them up to take over

States are firmly red or blue, and the blue ones get used as the best vehicle for liberalism just like the red ones. This makes life a bit insufferable with the cultural tide holding 3-5 years longer there, the bond market gets them in the end tho

I'll come back to this tomorrow

[rulanarinrush]

notes for myself for the d/rdt rewatch, so the mandela effect doesn't hit me again:

(If you somehow find this, please do not reblog it, share it, or interact with it in any way. I'm only posting this publicly in case i need to share with someone.)

ch1ep1:

charles is mildly ok with bloodstains, just not large quantities of it, or the action of violence that draws blood.

they start on the top floor and descend down. literally elevated to a higher status?

enough computers for each person. first game parallels

charles points out teruko's hesitation to grow to people

charles foreshadows his secret with the "memory is notoriously fallible" line

explicit parallel drawn between charles' "willingness" to allow people to die compared to teruko between now and ch2

ch1ep2:

xander and teruko's rooms are swapped on the map compared to the background. this is never fixed.

teruko foreshadows that "the bed feels normal" time loop?

Levi does not perceive scars as slights.

Ace compliments that Levi is "sort of safe to be around". possibly attributing to his anger when Levi reveals he is not.

Ace does not practice and is afraid of horses.

Veronika used to be an outdoors person, as foreshadowed by the playground swings and her skateboarding hobby, which would allow her to get as much adrenaline and as as hurt as she wants.

ch1 ep3:

wydm that min cookie doesn't resemble her??? I actually think it really does you're a bully rose

eden doesn't look at xander's injury, but she knows it has blood. her refusal to look could imply she was the one that did it.

xander has the typical dr protagonist's weapon, a gun. but a model one, to show how ineffective and pointless his life was

xander foreshadows his family with not wanting to talk about his past and the "i'd never be able to face them" line.

whit speaks mandarin, hu speaks cantonese. however, dev confirmed that they can both interact to each other in both dialects.

whit's dad's name is lin(mandarin?) his mom is french wasp probably, based on the french food specialty. this does not confirm what ethnicities he is tho.

no one is home to take care of one means he probably can't stand to be around the house too long.

the oedipus complex is so strong whit. please settle down.

charles: both parents alive "no siblings"

rose comments that she remembers visuals, but not everything else.

line about not remembering J

remote only turns things on or off. it could be how j could murder xander without min actually having been guilty. maybe he suffocated due to his piercing acting as a conductor, which is why his eye has no petechial hemorrhaging from the spike in blood pressure of electrocution.

Hope's Peak in America is fairly recent. Japan's are "popular". maybe the first kg is only known in japan well?

arturo: beauty is intrinsic.

ch1 ep5:

Xander defends Nico from Ace and his compliment means a lot to Nico. Nico doesn't have trouble communicating their interests.

david comments on a lot of pressure from being a role model.

lovebombing. wdym why r u guys flirting right in front of teruko's salad. if i was teruko i would've told you two to go make out in a dark, damp closet, where they can find narnia together. "i don't mind if it's you" you need to calm down and go to a toilet i can smell the bullshit from here.

xander specifically mentions that david is his "favorite person" you are one lonely guy. also teruko is right there.

"you've done plenty for me" what did he fucking do? talk you outta a certain something? twerk while you two were investigating? what

sorry if i sound mean. at the time of this rewatch, pride month is over /j

maybe it's his birthday? so it takes place after david's birthday?

ace does not eat things with lots of sugar. foreshadowing

from the animation, xander circled around her so she couldn't run to the exit.

[mossywizard]

Elaine Pagels I love you so so so so much

Y’all, if you like my weird ramble about demonization. Please read

the origin of Satan: how Christians demonized Jews, Pagan and Heretics

I’m not done with the book yet but she is On The Vibe. My one add is how the demonization is also of Arabic peoples, starting with Canaanite Gods into demons and now more “subtly” with a hatred for Muslim beliefs, tho and a general disregard for Arabic lives. However I cannot articulate these thoughts super well, so I really want to read more by Elaine and maybe she’s talked about it, or will help me have a frame to walk about what I’ve been trying to articulate in a more clear way

Christian’s also demonized the indigenous peoples of the Americas to justify settling there, and the US courts cites the Doctrine of Discovery for this right. Which if you don’t know. Doctrine of Discovery is a papal decree that said any land first discovered by Christian’s is now owned by the Christian’s. Not any “pagans” who were there first

[larentslovechaos]

i want to go to disney bad 😩

[knuckles-apr]

Phantom Troupe road trip hcs

Im on a road trip myself right now. Guess which character is the most autobiographical. Or don’t, you probably don’t care. The characters I don’t care about aren’t here. This was written and posted on mobile, so format might be weird and I didn’t care to fix every mistake. Capitalization isn’t consistent.

**nsfw themes in hisoka’s blurb, it’s at the end and exaggerated for comedy**

Chrollo: Has to pee more than anyone else in the car. He refuses to do it on the side of the road, even though he’s endowed with the right equipment. When everyone yells at him that he just went, he’ll ignore the hate and stare straight ahead. Will insist that hisoka gets the front seat. “Machi, don’t be heartless, he gets carsick”

Feitan: he won’t eat any of his snacks until the drive back. He gets off on everyone else being jealous that he still has food. Gets a window seat with plenty of legroom, cause everyone knows it’s not worth an argument. He’s gonna be sour no matter what. He also is incredibly mean when stops have to be made. To normal people, getting mad at bathroom breaks seems like an incredibly hypocritical thing to do, as we all have to go at some point. But feitan is in no danger of having to pee any time soon. He’s extremely dehydrated. For some fucking reason, idk. In any case, you must decide what’s more important to you: not pissing yourself, or his good opinion.

Phinks: one of the drivers. He will fall asleep if he doesn’t have the bag of pretzels on the middle console at all times. Or at least that’s what he threatens. He’s the one farting, look no further. He and Shalnark are both super pumped to see some hum-dee-dum roadside attraction that no one could give a rat’s ass about. “Guys, come on, it’s the worlds first city in America to have a Hot Dog Mayor, and you’re really trying to rob yourselves of the chance to meet him?”

Shalnark: he’s got the mad libs and the Pringle’s. He also has a bunch of those huge bulky adapters to make sure his PSP and whole ass Wii U will be charged. He’s the one raising the mood in the car and defending chrollo even tho he knows it’s wack that the man pisses this much. His gas station candy choices are super weird; they all have some weird gimmick or overly complicated way to eat it, as well as several different components that double as choking hazards. I’m other words, he buys the “watermelon toilet bomb with a mystery flavor hidden in the bowl! Now in blue flavor!” He could have died on Everest’s summit and have less blue lips.

Shizuku: just does not understand mad libs

Shalnark: ok! I need a plural noun!

Shizuku: Easter Sunday!

Shalnark: ok anyone else

They purposely wait until she’s asleep to play mad libs. She also has to pee a lot, but she’s spared the embarrassment of having to ask every time since they’re already stopping for chrollo. Will unintentionally bring up a super controversial topic of conversation, and not bother to listen to the ensuing havoc. When the dust settles, the rest will realize she’s been asleep for the last hour and a half

Nobunaga: gets stuck with the middle seat every time. He only gets to drive when phinks needs a break. His phone is dead. He forgot his headphones. Uvo borrowed his neck pillow and won’t give it back. He just got a call; his VCR was repossessed. He gets up when they stop at a gas station, and finds out he was sitting on an open Milky Way. His kimono is ruined. His spirit is broken. His excitement to see Ol’ Faithful is the only thing keeping him sane. Wait until someone bothers to tell him they’re not going to Yellowstone

Machi: she gets the front seat every time. Everyone knows that. but somehow, Hisoka got it this time. She sits in the back with her lips as thin as her patience for hisoka’s aux privileges. Unfortunately for everyone, chrollo is a huge fan of They Might be Giants. The same songs are played over and over again the whole trip. Machi weeps as she has to fend for herself in the back against uvo and his aggressive sleep tendencies

Paku: is somehow thriving. Took a fulfilling nap, activated her credit card, and is finally getting around to listening to that album she’s been meaning to get to. This free time is her vacation. She packs light, isn’t any trouble, is quiet for most of the time and is happy to trade seats if someone’s throwing a fit. She’s the ideal travel partner.

Uvo: has a super comfortable neck pillow

Hisoka: He’s almost coming his pants thinking about how mad the rest of the troupe will be when he finally reveals that he left his luggage back home. He doesn’t even like They Might be Giants, he just knows how much machi hates them. He can feel her blood lust from the back and he can hardly contain his boner. Phinks, I say this as a friend, please make sure your pretzel grabbing hand doesn’t stray too far from home

[mysticalrambling]

Adorable Addition(Part 1)

Chris Evans Fan Fiction (Fan Fiction Masterlist)

(Part 2)

Warnings: None. Fluff all the way.

Summary: dad!Chris Evans x reader. Chris and you decide to adopt a dog when you see your son with Scott's dog. It is a cute family day and you all enjoy it to the fullest.

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Putting Oliver down for a nap proved to be a difficult task for Chris as the little boy refused to leave his side. It made sense as he hadn't seen Chris for the past three weeks. He went to Colorado for a shooting of his upcoming movie. When he finally managed to put the hyperactive boy to sleep, he sighed in exhaustion.

"Chris, I don't think our family is ready for a dog just yet." You paced across the room as your husband plopped on the bed, looking amused and tired. Of course, he would find this situation funny. Your indecisiveness was his new form of entertainment from the moment he met you.

"Babe, you are the one who suggested it."

"I know that." You sighed in to your hands as you slumped beside him, the sheets ruffling slightly on the contact.

"It's going to be okay, (Y/N). We did a trial run with Scott's dog and Ollie was so good with him. I have never seen a two year old taking such good care of a pet."

The mention of your son brought a smile to your face. He was the best thing that could ever happen to you, besides Chris, of course. From the moment you found out that you were pregnant with Ollie, you were scared. Chris and you were just settling down in to your normal life after your honeymoon month. But, safe to say, he was ecstatic. He twirled you around with tears pooling in his blues. The baby responded to him so well whenever he used to gently talk to it in the womb. Oliver was a daddy's boy from the very start.

"Let's just watch some movies on Netflix till our little prince wakes up from his beauty nap." You were not in a mood for a movie tho so you put on your favorite show, Defending Jacob, despite your husband’s protests. Chris in a suit was something you could not get over and at the end of the day, he was all yours. Time whizzed by with Chris telling you back stage stories and his feelings regarding each scene. Not going to lie, you were quite enjoying this alone time with the love of your life.

The crying on the baby monitor broke you both out of your bubble. Chris went to make his bottle while you went to console your little munchkin. Sitting in the rocking chair with your son, you gently sang a lullaby as he clinged to you like a koala. After he was finished with his bottle, he extended his hands to Chris who leaned on the door.

"I will get him ready and you can pack his bag." You went to pack his bag and kept his stuffed Captain America in the front pocket. Ollie has had that toy from the past year and he does not go anywhere without it.

"We are all ready. Let me just get my cap and sunglasses."

"Why do you always have to hide this beautiful face?"

"It's because everyone finds it beautiful as well." He cackled when you screwed your face at his lame comment. Strapping Oliver in to his stroller, Chris pushed it out of the house. As soon as the stroller was out of the house, you covered it fully with the shade. Your son was busy with a pacifier in his mouth and a teddy bear in his chubby hands. The pet shop was just two streets down so you both had decided to take a stroll.

"Have you decided on the breed?” questioning your husband, you adjusted the bag on your shoulder. He just shook his head and wrapped one of his hands around your shoulder while the other one continued pushing the stroller. You both were aware of the paparazzi sneaking behind you and you just sighed.

Sometimes, it was really difficult for you to have a family moment without it being publicised to the whole world. Sure, Chris was a celebrity and people wanted to know what he was up to but you wanted some alone time with your husband as well. You also knew the hate that you and your son were subjected to online. Chris always steered you away from negative publicity but sometimes you can’t help but think it is true. You did not deserve him.

“I am sorry, love.” The hand that rested on your shoulder trailed down your back and slowly drew soothing patterns. He always knew what was going on in your head and always made sure to rid you of all your insecurities. “Don’t mind them.”

“Dadda!!” Chris quickly pulled the shade up and you came face to face with your son’s scrunched up face. “Pick me up.”

“Baby, we are almost there.” He tried soothing the toddler with another stuffed toy because he didn’t want the paparazzi to get his pictures. However, your son was having none of it as he let out a piercing wail and threw his pacifier out of the stroller. You were going to scold him but Chris stopped you and went to pick him up.

Kissing him on his forehead, Oliver placed his head on his father’s shoulder and gently sucked on his thumb. You started asking your son about the type of dog that he wanted. He explained it all with big hand gestures and a twinkle in his blue eyes that warmed your insides. Soon, you reached the shop and went straight towards the dog section.

“Go and pick out your favorite one, buddy. We will take it home today.” You went with Oliver when the workers at the pet shop wanted Chris’s autographs and pictures.

The little boy roamed around the whole section with a thumb in his mouth and the Captain America teddy bear in the other one. He slowly came to a halt in front of a small cage. Inside it was a golden retriever pup with a red collar around his fuzzy neck. He slowly stepped forward and before you could stoop him, Ollie reached out his hand to pet him. The small creature gently nuzzled in his hands and your boy let out a squeal.

“This is a four month old golden retriever. He is fully vaccinated and very well tamed. Your son chose well” The teenage worker walked in with Chris and gave you the necessary information regarding the small pup.

“Does he have a name?” Chris enquired as he gently patted the pup on the head as well.

“Dodger.”

“That’s a good name. Do you want him buddy?” Oliver nodded his head so furiously that Chris was worried he might hurt his neck. Chuckling, he got up to sign all the agreements and buy the necessary things.

You guys took Dodger home and the whole way, Oliver stayed by his side and silently stared at him in wonder. One time, he was about to trip on a rock and Chris saved him from falling down. But that did nothing to stray him from his fascination. You were sure tomorrows headline will have your family’s picture in the front with the headlines,’An Adorable Addition to the Evan’s Family’.

The moment you all reached home, Oliver took a hesitant Dodger towards his room and show him all of the toys. You gently side hugged your husband and whispered to him,”I am grateful for this addition in our family.”

“Me too. Now, let’s go to our son before he scares Dodger from all his excitement.” Following Chris to the upstairs room, you wondered how lucky you were to have a family like this and you silently prayed for all of this to remain the same. Gently placing a hand on your stomach, you just knew that your family was ready for another addition as well. You were going to surprise your husband tonight.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!! Here is the link to Part 2.

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A/N: This is just some family dribble that I wrote related to Chris Evans. I just love the idea of dad Chris. Send me some ideas related to Chris as a family man and I will be happy to write about it.

Like, comment and reblog.

Taglist: @maximeevansblog, @justile

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