#you’d just be able to be secure in your own opinion

[cheriladycl01]

Pushed Down and Down - Grid x Driver! Reader

Plot: Suffering with mental health issues as a driver isn’t easy - but when people actively don’t help it can only get worse.

Based on that one tiktok edit sound.

A/N: as someone who struggles with her own mental health this was a true comfort for me to write and reread. Drivers who talk about their mental health and how they do struggle literally have my whole heart (Lando, Lewis etc)

Warnings: Talk of mental health, depression, anxiety, etc, all drivers are a little mean to Y/N

From a very young age you were told you wouldn’t be able to do karting, and you wouldn’t get very far as it was strictly a man’s sport.

Your mum tried to sway your opinion as you were clearly the athletic type and get you into gymnastics or dancing. But the smell of the petrol and the adrenaline you got from going round the tracks was like nothing else.

Your dad on the other hand fully supported you, he was a mechanic so he did struggle to afford decent gear for you but you made do with what you had.

This however never stopped you, and as a child going into a teenager and young adult it didn’t affect you too much. You took your wins as and when they came and you worked hard for them and you took your losses as opportunity to learn from.

Oh how you wish you could go back to those days.

You proceeded to be asked in 2016 if you wanted to compete in British F4, you had your License and it seemed like you were this up and coming British talent.

You came 1st in the British F4 championship in 2017 right after Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell won the years before you. The two behind you being Oscar Piastri and Logan Sargeant. You didn’t win a race for the whole season, just pure consistency.

You then came third in the UAE F4 Championship in the same year. Oscar and Logan were also in that series with you. Logan being right on your toes coming in second place. This season you were close to taking your first win, but Logan had crashed you out taking the win for himself and leaving you down in P8.

Both Oscar and Logan of course moved up to bigger and better things in 2018. Both of them moving up to doing Eurocup Formula Renault whereas you weren’t offered anything.

In 2018 you competed in Formula 4 United States and came second place again. Your team let your American team-mate pass you on the last race of the season through team orders even though you were on equal points.

You took the loss and moved on because that just the kind of race driver you WERE.

In 2019 you were promoted to F3 and got to drive with Max Fewtrell, Logan Sargeant, Yuki Tsunoda and Liam Lawson. You came second and you actually were insanely close to Robert, but it never felt like a win. You were with Prema, and you fought tooth and nail.

In 2020, Oscar and Logan rejoined you in the feeder series and were in the same team as you as you remained with Prema.

Prema, unfortunately for you and Logan prioritised Oscar and with an insanely dominant year for Prema Oscar won the championship through the help of team orders. There were many chances for you to take wins but you knew you couldn’t get promoted to F2 just get, even though you spend to years in Prema and come second both times.

This was when Red Bull noticed you and backed you paying for the rest of your career which was lucky really considering your dad wouldn’t have been able to afford another season for you in F3 with all the debt he was already in.

2021 came around and Red Bull helped you further your career getting lots of sponsor shops along the way and finally securing you an F2 seat for the 2022 season.

In 2021 you finally won a championship, but you didn’t feel like it was a win. Everyone had something to say about this achievement, that you’d only won thanks to the team, and that it wasn’t driver capability. As a young 21 year old these comments really affected you going into the F2 season.

Once you got into F2 in 2022, you were head to head with Felipe Drugovich. Red Bull also came forward asking for you to become a reserve driver for Red Bull alongside your F2 driver Liam Lawson. You were back in the standings with Logan too, Oscar having won back to back championships and now becoming the golden goose on his route to F1 with Alpine.

This year halfway though the season you had to experience the unfortunate passing of your dad, the only true supporter you ever had. It was utterly dismal for the few races that came afterwards.

The season was closing out and there were only 3 points between you and Felipe with Theo and Liam not far behind. With a dramatic qually in Abu Dabi that had most of you at the back of the pack when starting the race, you prevailed winning the race and taking the championship.

You got out of that car celebrating only to see your team not there for you. You awkwardly celebrated with the team of the drivers from 2nd and 3rd place but you couldn’t understand why they weren’t there for you.

But he was there for you…

Christian Horner in his Red Bull team gear, white envelope in his hand that he presented you in the quiet room.

He was the first person to truly believe in you and see see potential apart from your dad and it was refreshing getting the contract that was going to sign you on as a rookie along with Oscar and Logan in the 2023 season.

F1

Liked by y/user, f1mia and others

f1: BREAKING: RedBull announce Y/N Y/L/N to drive for them in 2023 meaning all seats for the season have now been filled.

#f1 #redbull #womeninthepaddock

View all comments

user1: oh Lord I’ve followed her since F3, so proud of her!

y/user: this is a dream come true! I can finally tell my mum I made it!

lewishamilton: so proud of everything you’ve done to get women this far in the sport @y/user

user2: god they just keep on ruining this sport

redbullracing: So excited to have Y/N join us on the team!

-> y/user: I’m so thankful to you guys to be given the opportunity!

user2: oh this year is gonna slap.

maxverstappen1: welcome to the RedBull Family!

First was the Bahrain Grand Prix, it was your 3rd time in and F1 car and you were obviously very nervous. It was your first race weekend and you didn’t know where to place yourself.

The whole weekend didn’t really feel like your debut it just felt glazed over with Sergio Perez leaving and no longer being in F1. A lot of the team had hushed whispers around the situation, and Max tried his best to make you feel welcome but his awkwardness made that hard.

“So like what do you do, you drink beer?” Max awkwardly asks as you’d both been sat in the hospitality together waiting for Christian or one of the engineers to come grab you.

“Oh erm, no I don’t drink at all actually” you smile with a little furrow in your brows.

“Oh … right” Max sighs and thankfully that conversation was cut short when Christian came round the corner to collect you both.

You both were racing and for a rookie you had incredible tyre management making the agreed one stop strategy seemingly start to work despite the temperature on track. You were very quick, maybe even more quick than Max.

However coming out the pits, your tires are already starting to complain and tyre marbles are going left right and center.

Y/N Radio: What happened guys, my tyres are degrading so quickly I thought we agreed on hards?

Static was all that was received back.

Y/N Radio: Guys did you put me on softs?

Race Engineer: Sorry Y/N mess up at the pits, pit in 5 laps.

And once word got out to the other teams that they’d fucked up your race strategy and that you were basically free game your race was pretty much over.

P4 wasn’t bad considering the mistakes made, but you knew you’d could have gotten a podium on your first race.

“Y/N amazing first race in F1 you really know how to make an entrance to the sport huh?” The interviewer says cheerfully happy that you’ve done as well as you did.

“Yeah” you say with a smile.

“Not happy with the result it seems?” She pushes and you sigh.

“I’m of course so happy, getting P4 was amazing and I know my team are happy and I’ve made eveyone at home really proud. Thank you dad and I hope you’re watching! But it’s always a little … disappointing? I don’t really know if that’s the right word for how I’m feeling right now, when the outlook of something is going so well and external forces out or your control tamper with that it’s not a nice feeling. I’m really proud of the team today and of course Max had a great win today so we collected a lot of points for the team and remain top in the constructors” you explain and she nods slightly shocked with how open and honest you had been.

Eventually you were taken away by your PR manager who was starting to worry about what you were saying, a little scolding that you weren’t sure what for afterwards.

People spoke too, Lando and Oscar shocked you most.

“Y/N was kinda dangerous on track today, can’t believe she was that ballsy as a rookie man” Oscar said having know you the best driving with you for as long as he had.

“She’s talented for sure but I can’t help but feel like she’s gonna wash out” Lando admits with a sigh.

Was he right, would you have one good season and then that was it?

Things went the same in Saudi this time you managed to place your car in pole position, leading the race while Max had an unfortunate start from P15.

However after team orders came in to let Max take over once he got to a close enough gap behind you made you obey the team, not wanting to get on their nerves and make them regret choosing you. After that a botched pit stop and Oscar driving like a lunatic and bumping into your side left you down from P2 to P6

“Y/N what an incredible drive despite all that happened and you’ve hauled some good points for the team! How are you feeling?” The interviewer asks pushing the mic closer to you.

“Hot, I’m so hot right now” you joke trying to lighten the mood, wiping the sweat away from your forehead.

“Yeah I can’t imagine with this heat and the fact that the car is incredibly warm here” she smiles back and you take a breath before answering the second question.

“Yeah I mean today didnt go as planned. I got pole, I was on track to win, I did everything right but I just don’t think it was meant to be today and you know I’m going to fight really hard in Australia and see where we can get us hopefully something better than what I’m doing now” you say with a polite tight lipped smile and nod before going to the call down room.

You sat against the cold plastic door of the room head against it as you held in your tears. You always told yourself to never cry over a loss as you can’t expect to win them all. But this was supposed to be your race and you can’t help but feel like if you had Max behind you defending the incidents with the pits stop wouldn’t have occurred as you wouldn’t have done that second pit stop that cost you time.

In debrief you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Are you kidding?” You laugh looking towards Max and then back at Christian.

“You didn’t move out the way from Max quick enough and you should have caught up quicker! What were you even thinking out there colliding with Piastri like that!” Horner announces making your cheeks flush a little red from embarrassment.

You didn’t think the collision with Oscar was your fault, but maybe it was.

Then you’d heard Daniel talking to Carlos, and your thoughts continued to spiral.

“She’s a tricky one mate, can’t see her having that seat for long” Daniel admitted to Carlos at the restaurant they were at with some of the other drivers.

Y/N was sad when she didn’t get an invite seeing as many of them were there but she didn’t take it to heart having fun eating alone while people watching.

“Yeah, I wonder how many times they have to tell her team orders” Carlos had added.

The next race was Australia.

You had the faster car, better starts and you beat Max going into turn one. It was a ballsy move on your part but it was clean racing, no damage done.

Race Engineer: Y/N give back position now

Y/N Radio: But I have the faster car Zayn, I got fresher tyres and my deg is fine. I have the stats don’t tell me I’m wrong when I’m the one in the car

Race Engineer: Y/N Max is fighting for the championship, team orders slow down and give position back

And so you did, you gave Max his position back and trailed behind him creating a DRS train behind you, Hamilton and Alonso not being able to pass you to potentially overtake Max.

After this race you started to keep a mental health diary and your coach thought it would be a good idea to see a therapist to help with your quick thinking and decision making on track, of course not for your mental health and you start to struggle with coming to the terms that Max needs a second driver and that’s what Red Bull hired you for.

So you became his second driver.

Constantly being criticised by the team and Horner, constantly having Max tell you that you need to be a second driver for the season and that’s it. Nothing else. Having interviewers wondering why you keep having these near misses.

When your home Grand Prix the British Grand Prix came around you’d just about had enough of being called a second driver. You took matters into your own hands. You spend hours in the sim working out the best angle for the corners of Silverstone and seeing how much you could push the provisional car down the straights.

When it came to qualifying you smashed everyone out the park in all three sectors. The media were buzzing at your stone face for the duration of the weekend.

“Y/N what an amazing qualifying for you, you were really flying out there. And your starting on pole tomorrow with Max behind you, is there going to be team orders to let him through?” The interviewer asks smiling at you.

“I mean there have been the whole season no?” You laugh with less sparkle and glimmer in your eyes than the start of the season.

“Yes, so you’re saying Max will be let ahead tomorrow!” She asks and cock your head to one side.

“He’ll be asked yes” you nod before you leave.

Race day came and you did not listen to team orders.

Race Engineer: Y/N let Max through, then we’ll pit you first to defend the lead while Max pits.

Y/N: what about, no? Come on guys, I’ve done everything for the team you’ve wanted me for. Just let me race him.

Race Engineer: Max will race you too hard, you risk loosing both the cars Y/N let him through.

Y/N: im sorry, but i have to do this for me, to prove I’m as good a driver as i try to be.

Race Engineer: Y/N don’t do this.

And with that you celebrated your first race win. Max had ended up DNFing when he got a little caught behind and skidded onto the gravel trap trying to make up too much time to catch you.

It was a full Brit Podium, you Lando and Lewis. You were thankful you had both of them there to celebrate with you as your team didn’t show up again. Probably all consoling Max on his first DNF of the year. He wasn’t happy at all and you could tell.

“Are you okay?” Lewis had asked you as you guys had stepped away from the podium. The man wasn’t blind and could see the disappointment on your face when no one was there to congratulate you on your first win and celebrate with you.

“M’fine” you say shortly before leaving and going straight to your drivers room, tears following. You spend hours writing away in your self help book. But you couldn’t wallow it was time to take on the words of Taylor Swift in her Reputation Era.

You never thought something you loved so dearly could kill of your spirit so quickly and easily. But Max go tougher as the season went on. Only allowing you one more win in spa where you once again ignored team orders. Max was incredibly unhappy with you up there on the podium and you just knew the media would have something to say about the awful tension between you and Max. He didn’t celebrate with you in Spa only the third place podium which happened to be Charles.

The Red Bull team member immediately celebrated with Max and Charles, as much as you tried to join in however you weren’t able to get close enough. You were royally fucked off.

Singapore felt like a breath of fresh air for you when it happened, it was a new feeling that had your toes curling as you pressed on the brakes knowing that Carlos and Lando were leading with you hot on their tales and Max being nowhere in sight.

Celebrating with them felt different, but everyone could tell that the happy bubbly girl who they’d started the season with was no longer apparent.

The season closed, and honestly your team, Max and Christian all seemed like 2024 wasn’t worth sticking around for … as a great driver you owed it yourself to find your worth in F1 and that wasn’t with Red Bull

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Two: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, menstruation, sexual content, pervy behavior [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin loves you so much it hurts and he’s really fucking weird about it, but it’s okay since it’s love 💕 He’s a massive Perv [diary entries from Ani] MDNI 18+

Date:

June 13th

Anakin woke up in a wonderful mood this morning. Today was going to be a good day, a really really good day. It was Thursday and you were going to book club at the library, which mean you would be going out for coffee after and then you’d go visit your sister before your shift at the diner. That would give him an ample amount of time to install the necessary security equipment for your apartment.

He’d already set up the wireless connection and app that goes along with the cameras the moment the package was delivered. He’d had plenty of time to do that yesterday while you were in class. He was so relieved that he’d be able to check in whenever he needed to, just a click or two and he’d be able to see and hear the goings on in your apartment.

These little microcams were an absolute lifesaver in his opinion, not only were they the perfect size, they also had an extremely long battery life *and* the resolution was surprisingly good. It was definitely worth the extra cash to get a clear picture of your pretty face.

He practically skipped down the street to your apartment, typing the code into the keypad when he arrived. He made sure to wipe his feet on the rug at the entrance, he’d hate to track dirt into your neat little living space. He trekked up the stairs to your floor and couldn’t help the massive grin on his face as he unlocked your apartment door.

Boogie greeted him happily now, he’d made sure to feed her little treats every time he visited just to get on her good side. He’d actually become quiet fond of the little gal, he could see why you liked cats now.

They were soft and cute just like you. He wouldn’t be surprised if you purred too, and if you didn’t… well he could fix that.

He locked the door behind him and got to work. He was thankful you were short enough to need a step stool because that was really coming in handy. It made it so much easier to place the first camera in the trim above your front door. He made sure it had a good angle of your kitchenette and living room.

The next was installed in the opposite corner on top of the bookshelf that held the hoard of books you promised yourself that you’d read but hadn’t gotten around to yet. You were just a girl after all, stuff like that didn’t keep your attention very well. He thought his reading voice would hold your attention much better than your own inner voice.

Anakin smiled as he thought about which book he’d read to you first… you had quite the collection, but he had plenty of time to figure it out before the time came.

Now he had a great view of the couch and the hall leading to your bedroom and bathroom. He checked the first two cameras via the app and was pleasantly surprised to see just how perfect the resolution was. He knew it was good, but seeing it in your home like this? He’d feel right there with you every time he checked the live feed.

Your bedroom. The one place he still hadn’t allowed himself to enter, this was your private space and it felt wrong to invade that privacy. It was one thing to peek in occasionally but an entirely different thing to actually go inside.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, the scent of you hitting him in the face had him weak in the knees. Anakin’s hands shook as he trailed his fingertips across the soft cotton sheets on your bed, you’d left it unmade.

He was already here… he might as well just try it out right?

No. No he can’t do that. If he lays down he’ll never get back up. His thoughts would eat him alive until he gave in and left a mess in your bed. Just a pillow then.

Oh… oh now he’s in trouble. Not only did he squeeze the pillow tightly and bury his face into its squishy middle to sniff every lingering bit of the smell of your shampoo… he did something very, very bad.

But it’s done now and he can’t take it back. Oh well, you won’t mind.

‘Back to work Anakin.’ He reminded himself and begrudgingly did exactly that.

He placed the third camera on the ceiling fan above your bed. Taking great care that the lens was completely covered.

He’s not that kind of guy.

He didn’t need to see what you did in bed… just hear it. You snored and Anakin just wanted to make sure you, ya know didn’t stop breathing or whatever in your sleep.

No other reason.

He took one glance over at the bathroom across the hall and really, really thought hard. He didn’t buy the fourth camera for your bathroom. He really didn’t.

He’s not that kind of guy.

He wouldn’t do that to you, but it was alright for him to think about it. Wasn’t it? Yeah. Yeah it’s okay to think about it.

With his handiwork finished he returned the step stool to it’s place under the kitchen sink and took a look around the place. It was homey, very cozy, very you.

You were alittle messy sometimes but that’s okay, so was he. Maybe he should clean up alittle. He smiled, proud of himself for thinking of it, and got to work. Just a quick run through of the kitchen and living room.

He couldn’t do *all* of your dishes, but he could certainly wash some silver ware and a cup or two to lessen the burden on you. So while he carefully washed and dried your favorite coffee mug, Anakin found himself sucking the spoon you’d used for your ice cream last night.

That’s good enough right? He’d licked it clean… you were going to use it again for ice cream tonight. He knew you would. Last month you ate ice cream for dinner the entire week of your period and you were doing the same this month. So he placed that spoon on top of the rest.

He vacuumed the kitchen and living room, your cat shed a lot and honestly Anakin should probably come vacuum for you more often because you’re not nearly as thorough as he is. He moved the couch and found at least two weeks worth of dust bunnies back there.

He knew it was difficult for you to juggle work, school and your personal life. You shouldn’t have to work, you should be able to stay home and lounge about after you’d cleaned house. He’d make sure you could do exactly that when the time was right.

Speaking of the time, he checked his watch and sighed. He should probably get going if he wanted to walk you to work.

On his way out he hurriedly placed the last camera in the stair well leading to the building’s entrance, that way he could familiarize himself with your neighbors and of course keep up to date with the door codes.

Diary Entry: June 14th

Those cameras I got for you are my new favorite thing.

It’s alittle unhealthy the way I check them as often as I do, but like they say, love makes people do crazy things.

I just can’t help it.

You’re so cute, I love the way you sing even if it’s really… not so great sometimes. But hey, not everyone is cut out for those high pitched vocals like that guy the one with the hair Kellin Quinn from that one song you really, really desperately want to hit the high note on. You’re amazing baby, but maybe don’t ever sing that one in public. Keep it at home just for me okay? Not everyone can appreciate your beautiful voice like I can.

You talk to your cat like she’s a person. Not even in a baby talk voice either, no, it’s more like she’s a girl from one of your college classes. You come home and tell her us your daily drama… it’s adorable.

I do however have a bone to pick with whoever Travis is. Travis can kick rocks. I can’t believe he did that to Amanda, and on her birthday? Unbelievable.

I think my favorite part of this new dynamic of ours is dinner time though. I even went to the corner store and got some cookie dough ice cream to eat with you. I felt like we were really there together, especially because I’m almost certain you used the spoon that I cleaned for you.

I’m so glad you have good taste in reality Tv as well. None of that Bachelor shit. No you like the juicy stuff. My kinda girl aren’t ya?

That Love is Blind show is truly one of the best reality shows I’ve watched in a while. But I had more fun listening to you laugh and shit talk those people. You’re fucking funny, it’s so cute.

Oh and guess what? I had a call with your super today! I’m next in line on the wait list for an apartment in your building baby. Hell yeah! It’s honestly really convenient, not only will I be right there whenever you need me, it’s closer to work so I can get home to you even quicker.

Diary Entry: June 18th

I’ve been alittle hesitant to tell you this sweetheart. I just feel real bad about it and I’m not great at sharing my feelings all the time. But I think it’s time I told you.

I just love you so much and I want to be with you all the time. Loving you from a distance is tolerable for now… but is it sustainable? No.

You’re a kind and understanding girl, sweet and caring, so I’m sure you’ll understand when I say that I *just couldn’t stop myself*. Your bed was so soft and the smell of you was so strong that I felt like I could drown in it. I hugged and kissed your pillow like my life depended on it but god… I found one strand of your pretty hair and that was just too much for me.

I’m sorry even though I don’t think you really mind all that much. Or if you do you’ve not said anything about it. It’s just… the fabric was so soft and you’re so pretty and I couldn’t help but think about what life would be like if I could come home to you in bed. Laying there with your pretty little eyes closed.

You’d look just like an angel. Peaceful and full of life, pink cheeks and smooth skin, warm and glowing.

So you can’t really blame me. You understand right? Really it’s your fault for being so damn perfect. But that’s really kind of an oxymoron isn’t it? You’re perfect so it can’t be your fault, but here we are.

Whoever is to be blamed, it doesn’t matter. What matters is: I’m sorry for tearing a hole in your favorite pillow.

Really and truly I’m sorry. I’ll fix it next time I stop by I promise. I just needed… something more you know? My hand just wasn’t good enough, too messy and wasteful. I needed to know that you’d be able to enjoy it too.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking but you’ve slept alittle better these last few days haven’t you?

On second thought maybe I shouldn’t close up that hole. If me fucking your pillow and stuffing my cum into the fluffy filling helps you sleep better, well I’d be happy to oblige.

I’m not that kind of guy, I just made a mistake. But, I think you’ll thank me for it in the long run.

Your subconscious just lets you relax alittle more with me around doesn’t it? Even if it is just alittle bit of cum. You need a piece of me with you to feel safe and you don’t even realize it. My poor girl, I’ll make sure you sleep well for the rest of your life.

Eventually I’ll stuff you with my cum every night. Getting fucked to sleep sounds pretty good doesn’t it princess?

Diary Entry: June 24th

I hate to see you disappointed. Oh it just kills me inside angel.

I can’t even chide you for forgetting your debit card because it’s my fault for not making sure you put it back in your backpack after ordering those new shoes. I’m sorry sweetheart.

Don’t worry though. I’ve added a few extra bucks to your wallet, being a dollar short for coffee won’t ever be a problem again.

Realistically that barista was just doing her job and I know that, but the fact that anyone could possibly deny you something that you want is insane to me.

You’ll never have to go without your large vanilla iced coffee on laundry day ever again.

Especially after I saw how grumpy you get.

That little scowl on your face when your favorite washer/dryer were already being used. I would’ve marched over there and dumped out that old ladies wet clothes in the floor for you if you’d only asked.

But if I had then I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy watching you act like a brat out in public. I’ve never seen someone stare daggers through an elderly person like that before, you’re lucky she didn’t have a heart condition because damn that look could’ve killed her.

I’ll help you get that attitude under control soon enough princess. All you need is a good ass whoopin’ and a fat cock to tame you.

Note: Persil, those little blue shakies

PART THREE

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky

@naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani

@ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil

@sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut

@luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @doblasftcisco

@sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker

@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled

@graveyard-stray @styleslytherin @chiaraanatra

@jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz

@queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @nico-velvet @rorysbrainrot @hopesworlld @1mawh0re @lonaah @t8lzw

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed

[leehoney0]

Security

Female reader . Fluff . Suggestive

(Not my best work)

Rick being so possessive of you,any sense of danger,your being moved behind him,grabbing your wrist to move you around and you let him.You love to feel his back,being pressed onto him.grabbing his jacket or shirt,a sense of security comes with it.

You just love the look on his face when he gets serious,he’s eyes not blinking,staring straight at who ever he’s angry at!.you standing behind him in full awe,completely confusing those around you.

His head tilt always got a reaction out of you,looking up at him as he tilts his head at his enemies.you’re wrapping you arms around his neck,peppering kisses all over his face,calling him the most Handsome man ever,it would bring a smile to his face but you knew when not to mess with him when he was in this state.

Best believe you also have his back,skilled in your own way,no one was touching your man-walker or human.he and you are a team.if someone dared to ever hurt you best believe your gonna see a side of him you’ve never think of!

If he’s determined for something,you’d always back up his opinion or statements even if they were crazy.he would bring you along since he knew you would support him.you had a mind of your own but just one please from him was enough to have you backing him up!

Everyone stares as Rick loads his gun,not stopping and wanting to go back and murder everyone at terminus,the rest of the group not picking up any weapons just standing there still.Rick passing you a gun,standing up to your height.

“Please y/n”

A small whisper between you both,staring back at his blue eyes,face full of blood and sweat.looking at his expression,Turning back to the rest of the group gun in your hand

“Cmon guys let’s go”

There resting face was enough for them to see you fell for his words again,they’d sometimes hide stuff from you knowing you’d spill to Rick the second you hear anything,running into his arm,laying your hands on his chest as you spill the little secrets into his ear.

sometimes even convincing the people to give up anything they were hiding using your dumb innocent face to make them think you wouldn’t tell a soul.knowing that as soon as you get back home you would tell him everything,he’d always make you figure something out for him,patting your bottom to send you on your way to get the info he was seaking!

Being young also came with its perks.you were able to help him out on runs when ever he needed some help,you’d have more stamina,he always wanted your help.it also helped with tiring you out a bit so late at night,you’d go for two rounds only.

He knew with you being younger than him,you have more stamina and you loved to tire him out,begging him to give you another load while he was begging for you to stop the overstimulation!.he loved you in bed but a his age and with his constant wounds it didn’t help!

When you both entered Alexandria,so many of the guys your age were racing for a chance with you but you’d ignore them without a glance to busy following Rick,tuning out anyone who tried to flirt with you.Rick loved that other guys wanted you,fuels his ego to know you were his.

When he got lost or kidnapped you were on his tracks the minute he was gone.you we’re going to make sure he was found wether that cost you your life.he would do the same for you and has.

Wrote this as I am rewatching the walking dead to be able to watch the other series,also I never finished the later seasons so here I am trying to understand anything,enjoy this light write more for him since I love him!!!

[mothwingwritings]

H and J for jack, please 💗

More for our darling Jack! <3 TY for the ask anon!

Warnings: Violence, mentions of forced cohabitation, mentions of drug use, Jack being overbearing and not giving you any damn autonomy.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

In general, all the violence that surrounds Jack would be horrid for you. I feel like most of the Baki men would try and shelter you a bit from the more savage aspects of their lives, but Jack not so much. He relishes having you witness it. It excites him knowing you are watching, pumping him up more than any drug ever could. Sure there is also an aspect of fear, concern that you may get caught in the cross fire and get yourself hurt, but that’s exactly why he keeps you under a tight guard. No one in their right mind is going to fuck with you when he’s around, and if they are dumb enough to try they won’t be making it out of that altercation alive.

You’ve had front row seats to all of Jack’s fights and have been a firsthand witness to more carnage than anyone ever should. You’ve seen all manner of snapped and broken bones, gazed into faces so badly beaten you can barely recognize them as human, glimpsed torn and bruised flesh through the slits of your fingers when you’d try and hide behind your hands. After a while you hoped you would at least get somewhat used to it, but you found out quickly that the brutality Jack inflicts on his targets is not something you will ever be able to be indifferent towards. Each fight he morphs into a monster, driven by a lust for blood and havoc.  His eyes instinctively search for your each time he sinks his teeth into one of his victims, the excitement reflected in them when he sees you watching him mangle someone is the stuff of nightmares.

After he’s done butchering whatever poor soul has crossed his path, he’ll seek you out and hold you, breathing heavily as he crushes your body against his own. His blood and sweat mix with the remnants of his victims, smearing across your body as he forces himself on you as a victory prize. It never matters how hard or long you scrub once you get home, you always feel dirty long afterwards.

Also, the living conditions are pretty awful. His lifestyle was not something that was easy to hide from you before, but it was impossible to hide now that he has you holed up with him. It’s not that he’s a slob or confines you to some dank room, but your new home is not very… welcoming. What with the sparsely decorated interior (Jack doesn’t really have the time or energy for such things), rampant drug use and obsessive exercise habits, living with Jack lacks the warmth, love, and security and that sorely miss from your own home.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He doesn’t really get jealous so much as he is extremely overprotective. He’ll let you hang out with just about anyone, even people he hates or distrusts (which is more or less every friend you have). Just know that he’s going to be there hanging out with you, every time. Because the best way to make sure you are safe and not being taken advantage of is tag along with you, right? He sees it as a win win-not only will he be able to spend time with you, but he also acts a great deterrent should anyone try and mess with you. And on top of that, he gets to take stock of the people you surround yourself with. He isn’t shy about voicing his opinion on your acquaintances either, and his curt manner and standoffish persona make things very uncomfortable very quickly whenever he joins in on your hang out sessions.

And God he has SO MANY rules when it comes to you interacting with other people. If you are planning on visiting someone IRL, Jack has to be there. You can’t go to their home, but you also don’t want them coming over to yours (If Jack would even allow them past the front door). If you are texting, he’s over your shoulder reading them. If you are on the phone, he’s listening. In fact, you can’t even have your phone if Jack isn’t around.

He makes it so awkward that eventually you give up and decide to drastically limit communication with your family and friends, just to give yourself a break from his tyrannical digging into your personal affairs. Jack takes this as a good sign, choosing to see it as you picking up on just how unworthy of your time these people are. The fewer idiots around you the less he has to worry.

On the flip side though, if you put up a fuss and try to go off on him for being too domineering he will start to lose his patience with you and take a more drastic approach to deal with the issue, and it will not be anything remotely good for either you or your loved ones. But you’re smart, and he knows you’ll come around and see eye to eye with him sooner rather than later. It’d be a shame if someone got hurt because you were being stubborn, wouldn’t it?

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Salvia Splendens Means Forever Mine - Part Four

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 2.5k

TW: kissing, pg-13 thoughts, pg-18 thoughts, talk of sex, mentions of death, trauma of death, lots of flowers, mentions of violence, basically anything mentioned in the last chapter is a tw here

A/N: God thank you all for being so fucking patient with me. I really appreciate you all!! I hope you enjoy!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Spencer’s lips were on your shoulder as he tightened his grip on you. His arm was wrapped securely around your waist, your back against his chest. You grumbled something unintelligible, but Spencer just hummed in response, kissing your bare shoulder again. 

“What are we going to do with you Doctor Spencer Reid.” 

He laughed quietly, his voice still gravely since he also just woke up. 

Mornings with Spencer always went like this. The two of you had been living together for over a month now, and you couldn’t be happier. Waking up next to the love of your life had major benefits. 

The first was morning sex. Waking up to Spencer kissing your neck, and your chest, and lips. Lazily breathing together, moving with one another. Feeling as his chest rose and fell while you riled him up and teased him endlessly. It was incredible. People seemed to notice your mood change when you showed up to work too, which definitely had its own set of perks. It was basically the best way to wake up, in your opinion. 

Then, there was the fact that you got to wake up and enjoy how gorgeous he was, how beautiful his eyes were. Watching as he finally was able to relax, stress free putty in your hands, melting as you played with his hair and whispered about nothing and everything to him. 

But the best part about waking up next to Spence, was that you got to start your days with him, knowing you’d get to come back home after work, sleep beside him, and wake up next to him all over again. It felt surreal at times. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours? I can hear the gears turning.” Spence muttered, kissing your shoulder this time. 

Your body rolled in his arms, causing you to face him, kissing his cheek softly. “How much I love you.” 

You felt Spencer freeze for a moment, and you looked up to find his eyes on you. 

“You…”

“You don’t have to say it back Spence.” You slid your hand up, and cupped his jaw. “It’s a really big commitment. But you not saying it immediately back doesn’t mean you don’t care about me or don’t love me back. You might just not be ready to say it out lou–”

“Look who’s the one rambling now?” He smirked slightly, making fun of your conversation from the previous night, in which you cut him off with a kiss when he was too busy telling you about something that wasn’t relevant to the task at hand. Spencer followed your model and cut you off with a kiss that you melted into. “I love you too.” 

______________________________________________________________

Spencer had been sitting next to your hospital bed for a whole day now. He was exhausted, hungry, dehydrated, covered in blood, and looked like shit–but none of that mattered since you had been in a medically-induced coma since the ambulance brought you to the hospital. 

Watching as you coded not one, but twice during the ride to the hospital just continued to confirm Spencer’s greatest fear. Hearing your heartbeat flatline is something he never ever wants to experience again. Ever.

The room was filled with vases of flowers. It made the air sickly sweet, the bitter opposite of how he was feeling, looking down at your sleeping body. But he knows you would have found some of them funny. 

There was a vase of red and white camellias, meaning you were the “flame” of someone’s heart, but also adorable. Someone else had sent you declarations of love (red tulips) with hints of declaring war (tansies) throughout. But the one from Spencer was the best. 

He had bought you a bouquet of red poppies: meaning consolation. Spencer had gotten you a consolation prize for being on the team and getting stabbed in the stomach. He was hoping your sense of humor would still be intact when you woke up. If not, then they were also from Derek. 

Just then, the machine made a sound Spencer hadn’t heard before. Then it made it again. A long beep, loud enough to wake the dead, but somehow not you. A nurse came running in and ushered him out of the room, much to his opposition. 

He fought with two different nurses, trying to stay in the room with you. Apparently having three Phds means nothing when they aren’t the right ones to keep him in that room with you. And regardless of his relationship status, he was now stuck back in the waiting room with the other peasants. 

“So….”

Spencer looked up at Derek. 

“So?”

“How long.”

“Not in the mood right now Derek.” 

“No, no. I wanna know–how long have you two been sneakin’ around. I mean, for gods sake Reid, you managed to keep a relationship hidden from some of the best profilers in the country..” 

“Well.” He grumbled, looking back at the hallway you were down. “Over a year now–almost two.” 

“I’m sorry–two? Two years?.” 

Spencer nodded, looking back at Derek. 

“Damn.” He muttered,  shaking his head. “Now I–”

Whatever Derek was going to say was paused when a nurse walked in, a slight splatter of blood over her scrubs. Both of them turned their attention to her, fearing the worst by the solemn look on her face. 

“She’s awake.” 

“Holy shit.” Derek mumbled while Spencer let out a breath he had been holding for what felt like millenia. 

“But.” The nurse continued. “She can only see one person at a time. And she’s asking for Agent Hotchner.” 

Neither of them had realized that the solemn looking section chief was sitting quietly in the corner. Derek and Spencer shared a look with another, while Hotch got up from his chair and followed the nurse down the hallway and into your room. 

“Aaron.” You smiled at him, though it was an exhausted smile. “Thought you’d come in with blood on your shirt from having to fight through Spencer and Derek.” 

Hotch chuckled and closed the door behind him, sitting down next to you and placing a hand on yours, squeezing it. “The nurse shot them both a look and told them ‘not to try anything’. But I do have to ask, why me.” 

You closed your eyes. “I want to give you my recount of what happened while I can still see it.” 

“Y/n you do–”

“Hotch I want to. I watched as she stabbed that woman over and over. I watched as that asshole buried her body. I want to tell you what I saw. I want to tell you so that there’s no fucking way either of them will ever see the light of day again.” 

Hotch didn’t feel like now was the appropriate time to mention that one of the unsubs was dead. He wanted to hear your memory of the events. He pulled out a mini black notebook, and a pen, from inside his suit jacket pocket. “Whenever you’re ready Y/N.” 

______________________________________________________________

“Hello everyone, my name is Doctor Y/n Y/l/n, and I am going to be your speaker today. I have been with the BAU for about a month, and they wanted me to come in and speak to you about it—a newbie’s experience.” 

That earned you a couple of laughs scattered throughout the crowd. You were asked to come in and speak about what it’s like to join the BAU to anyone interested in becoming profilers. You were not expecting for it to be a full house, but every single seat had someone in it, with overflow huddling around the back of the lecture hall by the walls. 

“Now, I’ll try to stay within my time limit since I know standing and listening to someone blab on about themselves is not the ideal situation; however. That’s exactly what you signed up for. So–.” 

Spencer stood in the back of the room, watching you speak to all of these students with ease–your peers really. Some of them even older than you, and yet, there you were, confidently smiling and maintaining their interest. It baffled Spencer. 

He wished he knew how you were able to captivate so easily, especially since he was completely enamored by you. Derek knew it too—well the whole team really knew, except for you. 

The crowds laugh pulled him out of his thoughts as you continued on. 

“Right. Now.” You clicked the little clicker and the pictures shifted behind you. “It’s time to get serious. I know I said that already, but I mean it this time.” You smirked a little bit and went onto the next slide. 

“The first case I ever worked with the BAU, I was just a temp filling in Elle Greenaway while she was away on some family matter. I was assisting in some case where—”

Spencer’s train of thought got the better of him. All he could do was think about the day you subbed in for Elle. He could remember it like yesterday, even though it was almost forty days ago, not that he was counting. He didn’t remember much of the case though, which was a sore subject that Derek and JJ would tease him about still. 

“Does anyone have any questions about the process?” Your voice brought him back to the lecture hall once again. 

“How old are you?” Some random guy’s voice rang out amongst the crowd. 

“Well.” You laughed. “I’m twenty-two.” 

Spencer heard some of the people around murmur, and he chose to ignore whatever they were saying about you, since he wasn’t one to win most fights.

“Why the BAU?” 

You paused and bit your cheek, thinking really hard about that question. 

“Honestly? I was obsessed with the serial killer documentaries when I was like fifteen/sixteen, and then one of my family members was murdered when I was fourteen. It’s not something I talk about a lot, but I remember my biggest question was why. It’s why I was so obsessed with those documentaries, because I wanted to know why someone felt that they could just take someone away from a family, from the world, and I realized that the only way I could find out the answer was if I did it myself.” 

There was a murmuring throughout the crowd once again. 

“I don’t think I’ll find the answer any time soon, if at all. But I love being able to protect people. I love being able to know that what I’m doing every day matters–to everyone sure, but mostly to me.” 

Spencer, and the rest of the team, had no idea you were connected to such a tragic event at such a young age. You didn’t show the signs of someone who had gone through something like that. But now that he knew, he wanted to find out everything about it, find a way to bing you peace of mind. God, it sounded so stupid. He barely even knew you. 

He was lucky you were extraverted in that since he could barely form a sentence around you. God he couldn’t wait to listen to you talk to him on the car ride back to the BAU. 

______________________________________________________________

You ended up talking to Spencer last. 

One by one you smiled at your friends, reassured them you were feeling better, and told them you would rest. 

But then, Spencer was standing in the doorway, and he was looking at you with such pain, with such distraughtness, that tears started to stream out of your eyes–you didn’t notice. But Spencer did. He quickly closed the door behind him and walked over to the bed. Clasping your hand in his, he used his other hand to wipe away the tears on your cheeks. “Sweetheat, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay.” He whispered, trying to provide you with some comfort. 

“Did…Did you get my necklace back…” 

That was not where Spencer thought this conversation was going. “I–”

“Be-Because I can't ... .Spence I’m so sorry. She just snatched it off of my neck while I was unconscious and, and, and she put it on, and fuck–”

Spencer squeezed your hand, causing your rampage to stop, but the tears pushed on. “We have it.” He said quietly. “There’s no way in hell I’m ever letting anyone else take that necklace okay?” 

You nodded and used your other hand to wipe at your cheeks, managing to get rid of the tears. 

Spencer kissed your hand again. “It’s at home, right on the kitchen counter. I got it professionally cleaned and everything.” 

You nodded and sighed. After a moment of silence, you peered around his frame, taking in all of the flowers and balloons and cards that people had left you. 

“wow…This is…”

“A lot?”

You nodded, brows furrowing as you bit the inside of your cheek. Spencer watched as your eyes slowly scanned across the flowers in the room, landing on the bouquet from Derek. 

“Is someone trying to declare war on me?” Your laugh was a bit garbled as you swallowed down the rest of your tears, trying desperately to change the subject. 

“Morgan thought you would think that was funny.” He whispered, his eyes only focused on you. On the way your lips parted when a particular inhale hurt your chest since they had only taken the catheter out an hour ago, or the way your chest rose and fell, the bruises scattered across were blooming into nasty blues, purples, and greens. 

“Who got me poppies?” 

Spencer met your eyes, a small cheeky smile on his lips. 

You slapped his arm with no mirth behind it, a grin spread widely across your face. “I’m sorry. But did you get me a consolation prize for surviving?” 

Spencer nodded, watching as you laughed to yourself, wincing when it would hurt a bit too much. “I love them, Spence.” 

“Good.”

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

There were more flowers you couldn’t see, at your home. There was vase upon vase, filled with plenty of flowers for you to decode their accidental (or purposeful) messages, each with their own ‘get well!’ card attached. There was only one bouquet that mattered above the rest, made of completely fake flowers. There were bright red Salvia Splendens, contrasting against the white of the kitchen counter, waiting for you to come home and see them. 

Spencer had thought that he should buy you flowers that lasted forever, just as long as his love would, just as long as he would forever be yours.  

______________________________________________________________

SSMFM Taglist: @raely-study @multifandoms-assemble @marylovesevanpeters@shqwqrma @niya06 @freefallthoughts @fansformentalydistroyedmen @r-3dlips @xholdinmebackxx @universallyblizzardlove

Reid Taglist: @s1lariathas

[sapphicmsmarvel]

criminal minds: nails

its short but it makes me happy!

-You always had a nice set of nails on. 

-They lasted about 2 weeks, however you’d change it whenever. Usually once a week if you could because it was self care for you. 

-You usually did at-home nails but sometimes you’d go to your favorite salon for a pedicure too. 

-Because you refused to touch feet. Even your own. 

-If you go natural long nails, it scares them so badly because they can’t believe the natural growth you have. 

-Sometimes you’ll get short acrylics if you want the look to last longer. 

-Because you can’t have super long nails, the most they can be before there’s a hindrance to your job is a just the  

-Every time there was a new nail day everybody in the office wanted to see. 

-“Hey baby! Let me see those purrrrty nails!” Morgan would always yell. He liked being dramatic. Straightest man you’ve ever seen but he had a secure enough masculinity. 

-Even Hotch and Rossi looked forward to seeing the sets. 

-You’d just run around with your hands out and let everyone see. 

-Reid was particularly fond of you halloween sets. 

-If you were having a bad day, Reid would just beg for you to go to the beauty supply store and he would buy whatever you wanted. Even if you told him not to. Anything to see you smile. 

-Hotch would sometimes just drop a pretty color of polish on your desk. Just randomly, because he was at the grocery store and passed by the beauty section, and saw something that you just needed in his opinion. 

-Penelope would join you for sleepovers and you two always did nails together. 

-You did themes a lot. If you were going to a movie with JJ and the boys, you’d theme it around the movie because those boys loved seeing your creations. 

-It’s therapeutic for you. You’ll pop your earbuds in and listen to a podcast or audio book, or good ole taylor swift and just do them. 

-The nail skills actually come in handy with your job because that means you have steady hands and are able to be precise. 

-This fun little hobby was something the whole team looked forward to. Seeing your happiness and enthusiasm made them realize that while they see horrible things all the time, they always had their bright shining light 

[kindasleepywriter]

BoP - Chapter 3: Mutual Understanding

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: You and Azriel come to a tentative agreement, while he reflects on the first time he met you.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.6k.

Previous | Next

Azriel was on his way home when he met you for the second time in 300 years. He was exhausted and ready for the night to end. Everything that could’ve gone wrong in the previous 24 hours had indeed gone wrong.

He’d tossed and turned all night, falling asleep too late, and subsequently felt miserable during training. Some of his shadows had immediately rushed to him afterwards with some information from a source he had in the Day court, about an Illyrian rushing through their territory, heading directly to the Night court like his life depended on it.

It wasn’t that important of a tip, but he felt like he should at least go check out the south borders to check if there wasn’t any more trouble currently heading to the border alongside him. However, the Spymaster had been delayed by one thing and then another and so on and so forth until he’d had no choice but to do his surveillance in the early morning hours. The visibility was horrible even with his enhanced eyesight and, while his shadows kept an eye on the ground in his stead, he felt uneasy sticking around the same place for a while.

Luckily, he didn’t have to circle the border for too long before his shadows started whispering in his ear about the man running through the mountains. This was very unusual, as the man should’ve just been able to take flight and increase his speed ten-fold, especially if he was in a hurry. He still stuck to the ground, and Azriel wondered if something kept him grounded. However, as he pondered, Azriel’s shadows threw him one more piece of information that was much more interesting: a Peregryn was tailing the man. It wasn’t everyday one could see one of the feathered-wing fae on solid ground at all, but especially not in Night court territory. The Illyrians and Peregryns had a tense relationship, to say the least. The former didn’t approve of the freedom women had in Dawn, nor their ability to join their court’s leagues. Peregryns on the other hand viewed their Night court cousins as impulsive and cruel brutes who mistreated their own and couldn’t see past their own nose. Azriel, having his own difficult opinion on his kind, couldn’t truthfully say that the Peregryns were entirely wrong.

After learning of your presence, he’d flown slowly, high above the trees, keeping watch over the two individuals running through the forest while keeping a safe enough distance to keep him from having to cloak himself in darkness. However, once he realized that you had caught up to the Illyrian, he’d instantly disappeared into the shadows to observe the interaction between you two from up close. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight that awaited him: you, immaculate white wings tucked tightly against your back, using your weight to hold down the man whose own wings were covered in dirty bandages. You’d readied herself to slice his throat without a single care in the world, eyes absolutely void of any emotion. You radiated danger.

He'd stopped you, of course, only to be met with venomous and taunting verbal attacks. He’d been a little frustrated at not recognizing you initially, chalking it up to the fact that he hadn’t slept, and had initially responded in kind before he’d realized that he was going too far with his own jibes and that he had to keep some control over his emotions. You might be a vulture, but that didn’t mean he had to lower himself below his own standards. You were making it extremely hard to do so, however, and you’d become shockingly different from your time in Autumn. At the time, you’d been a meek girl at the beck and call of the Vanseras, smart and kind but completely lost in the politics of their palace. One of them seemed to have secured your love, even though it was clear he was playing with your feelings and didn’t reciprocate. He didn’t know then or now what you possessed or had done for Beron to be so interested, but the High Lord had unfortunately seemed to be successful at keeping you trapped in his court. For all that Azriel knew, maybe you still were, but the deadly aura around you made that unlikely.

When his own cruel words from that first encounter had been thrown back in his face, he’d sighed internally but pretended amusement to keep you from seeing how he really felt: ashamed. He had said those words and even Cassian had called him harsh at the time, but he had done so for a reason. He had approached it all wrong, but he couldn’t exactly justify himself to you, not with how you were acting. You probably thought of him as a complete ass and while he wanted to explain, he didn’t think he could trust you not to find a weakness in his words. You were sharper than an arrowhead now, every word chosen carefully to maintain your impenetrable shields. Azriel wondered, how had you become so cold?

He’d also noticed how his shadows reacted to you, he wasn’t blind, your presence soothing them into stillness. A completely new behaviour, as they usually never took a moment of rest and carried information to him endlessly, no matter how much he’d love for them to stop and just be quiet for a moment sometimes. Bunch of traitors, he thought, playing nice just because of a pretty lady. He had to admit that you were indeed beautiful, your captivating eyes almost urging him to come closer despite the hostile demeanour you carried. He had partially failed to resist the call, reminding himself that you could very well be a spy or an enemy of the court, but he’d nevertheless stepped forward unconsciously to find himself standing only a few feet from where you stood. Nevertheless, no matter how alluring you were, his shadows really needed to stop posturing at every new interesting woman he met. They were going to run out of tricks quickly at this rate, perhaps that would help tame their newfound determination to meddle in his life.

By the time you’d been trying to negotiate your way out of going to Velaris, he was over the entire situation and just wanted to go home, eat and sleep. You didn’t want to go meet Rhys and Feyre? Too bad. You were going anyway.

“Let’s make a bargain, Shadowsinger.”

That had snapped him out of his constant inner monologue instantly. A bargain? Before learning how Rhys had gotten Feyre to bargain with him under the mountain, he hadn’t even been sure that it was possible to do it with faes of other courts. Only one night court individual was needed, it would seem. The deals weren’t to be taken lightly, and wording could mean the difference between a friendly bet and living enslaved to another person for the rest of your life. Azriel thought back about the war with Hybern when the Inner Circle had bargained left and right to ensure their victory. If they could bargain successfully with otherworldly creatures, this could turn out fine.

Again, his thoughts came to a screeching halt. Was he actually considering this? Had his brain leaked from his skull, and he’d left behind without noticing? By the mother, this was a bad idea. Although… It sure would solve a lot of problems, it would get him home sooner, and maybe he’d learn a bit more about her in the process.

You were watching him for a reaction, growing increasingly amused the longer he took to respond. Get yourself together, he thought.

-

“What kind of bargain?”, he slowly asked, cautious.

“I want the guarantee of my safety and liberty from the moment I enter Velaris to my departure if I remain appropriately cooperative and truthful about information relevant to the safety of your court, and exclusively with your High Lady. Simple.”

He turned it over in his head, trying to find any loopholes or tricks. What was your deal with Feyre, anyways? You hadn’t even acknowledged Rhys’ existence once this entire time. Not that it mattered, if anything Feyre would use this as a great opportunity tease her mate, and she was just as strong, if not stronger than Rhys as far as her mind-reading powers went. Again, Azriel knew this was an entirely ridiculous situation and that he shouldn’t even entertain the idea of making a deal with you, but he needed some fun followed by some much needed rest with the day he’d had, and this promised exactly that. Not that he’d ever tell you, of course. If you were a spy, they’d also easily find out, he noted, almost as an afterthought.

“You also need to agree not to break any of our laws and to not cause trouble while you’re here.”, he said, “You stay under the surveillance of a person of my choosing at all times, the High Lady will come to you at her convenience and if you are not deemed a danger to this court, you will leave the minute she asks you to. Are we clear?”

“A bit overdramatic, Spymaster, but I’ll take it.”. He almost hesitated as you held out your hand to shake his but quickly brushed it off, taking the offered gesture, both of you grasping each other’s forearm.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, then.”, he stated at a lower pitch than he’d meant to, staring you right in the eyes.

“It would appear that I do.”, you responded.

A bit of a shorter one today! Writing from Az's point of view is *rough* when you don't have ACOFAS on hand, but I did my best! His POV should stay pretty rare, but I couldn't help giving a little glimpse into where his head is at right now.

Tell me what you think!

Banner created by the amazing @saradika

Taglist: @sapphenaa

[fariesoiree]

miffy's note this is just the prequel; this following series centers heavily around themes of stalking. mdni fics for gaza

you’d think when you’re finally seated inside the black honda civic that the thrumming in your chest would begin to dull into a consistent rhythm. it’s supposed to be a safe space. the plush interior is supposed to be a comfort, the tinted windows are supposed to act as a bandaid. that soothed feeling, the security you’re seeking so desperately never comes. instead, each drag of air is harsher and harsher. you’re nearly wheezing by the time sukuna is seated in the driver’s seat, hand gripping the fabric of your t-shirt.

“relax. breath, girl, breath.” he’s meticulous in the way he closes his door, preventing the metal from slamming shut while devoting his attention to your unwell state. his larger hand covers yours, planted so firmly over your chest. he can feel the ragged breaths even through your fingertips. “i’m right here, okay? you’re fine now so breath f’me.”

his words are easier said than done. they don’t have a chance to fully register in your head. they become part of the murky mixture ringing between your ears. the footsteps paces behind yours ring over and over again. the crunch of the pavement under your feet, your name falling from horrid lips, it all plays in a cycle in between gasps for air. your heartbeat pounds beneath the thin layer of skin and bone. you don’t have to tell sukuna you’ve lost control because he can see it under the watery rims of your tear-filled eyes.

“jesus christ.” sukuna pulls his hand away from yours, although reluctantly, to find anything of use. as far as he knows, you don’t have an inhaler on you, nor does he believe there has ever been a moment in time where a doctor has every prescribed one for the particular situation. he considers himself lucky when his fingers clasp around plastic, thrown and discarded into the backseat of his car and even more so when the bottle is filled halfway with water. “i know it’s shady but drink it. for your breathing.”

he’s thoughtful enough to untwist the cap for you and guides the bottle to your lips. the stream of water is hot down your throat. unpleasant as it is, it does it’s job in forcing you to hold in a breath longer than you want to, letting the carbon dioxide run through your system and quell your beating heart. “if i ever see that piece of shit, i’ll kill him.” it’s more of a statement sukuna says for himself, guiding one of your trembling hands to hold the bottle for yourself. “you hold onto this and don’t worry your pretty head about a thing. you can sleep at my place.”

behind the perimeter of the store-brand water bottle, you smile as much as you can manage, albeit it’s weak. still, you attempt to show your appreciation for his kindness with the ever growing guilt that you’ll never be able to repay him for this. you actually feel quite selfish for having to rope sukuna into this. he shouldn’t have to put himself at risk because you can’t manage to keep your own problems at bay, granted having someone who is a bit too obsessed with you following you around isn’t something you have to deal with on your own. you know better than to voice your opinion on the matter. it would just earn you reprimands and challenging glares at such an asinine ideology. so instead, you take another small swig of water. “thank you ‘kuna.”

sukuna resides in a little townhouse just outside the city. the neighborhood is nowhere near as protected as you’d like but it’s somewhat comforting to have another person beside you. he’s been darling all night, opening the car door for you and letting you walk ahead of him as you trek to the front door. sukuna even punches in the numbers to his keypad at his position stationed behind you, protectively looming over your shoulder until you’re ushered through the door. “you can stay as long as you need, yeah?”

he tosses his keys onto the the console table and casts a quick glance out the window. the blinds fall back into place when he pulls away. it’s odd to him to be this kind to you. sure, there has been plenty of moments where sukuna has displayed his softer side to you but this is unprecedented. there really is no protocol for how friends like him should act when receiving such a distressing call. he’s wracked his brain enough times with the same questions, questions only you could solve. “so what the fuck happened?”

it’s such a simple question. the wording could use some critique but you’re not thinking about it when you’re kicking off your crocs onto the doormat. if anything, you’re too frenzied running through your own thoughts and experiences. every moment leading up to this flashes behind your eyes in a blur. “i don’t — i told the police. i told them and they said if i didn’t have enough proof, a threat. texts aren’t enough. i told them, sukuna. i told —”

“okay. you told them; i get that. that wasn’t my question, though. what happened, tonight?” he does his best to mind his tone, narrowed eyes tracking your movement the farther you venture into his abode. he believes you, he really does. there isn’t any room for doubt when your voice, wavering in fear, replays in his head from your phone call. sukuna is just trying to wrap his head around the situation. 

you called him during what was supposed to be a completely ordinary thursday night. it’s a distress call at that, full of your pleas to come pick you up. in a single instance, you’ve managed to upgrade your previous very casual relationship into something unlabeled where you crash at his house to evade your . . . stalker?

you’re still reeling when you plop yourself onto his sectional. it’s a hysteria you haven’t felt before. one that builds in the base of your tummy and crawls it’s way up your throat with a taste resembling bile. you curl up in your spot, feet tucked under yourself and hugging your knees to your chest. your phone slides out of your pocket, serving a reminder to let your roommate know you won’t be returning home that night. “there’s this guy. he came to my bar once and ordered a gin and tonic.” you take an interest in your fingernails and how varied the different shapes are.

this is not the first time you’ve told this story before. you’ve told it to your friends, your coworkers, your managers. you’ve told the police. sure, some people feel doubt or even shame but you? there isn’t a moment where you don’t feel rage at the loss of normalcy. your sense of ease has been stolen from you and it’s never been anyones to take. still, every time you begin the tale again, the nausea returns. the incessant queasiness finds its way back into your system.

“he’s been back every day since. he gets gin and tonic and a water. then, he got my number; don’t know how that happened, by the way. in comes the texts and calls and flowers and gifts. i told him i don’t want to talk to him, ‘kuna. i swear i did,” you turn your attention towards him. the salty tears fill your eyes once again. it’s already embarrassing enough to be here under such circumstances. there’s no help in crying. you wipe them as quickly as they fall in an attempt to build a facade that everything is fine. “he keeps texting me anyway. i’ve blocked every number, i went to the police, i did it all. this is the first time he’s ever followed me. i was just walking home from the parking lot but i didn’t want him to know where i lived so i . . . i called you.”

sukuna sighs. it’s long and drawn out, accompanied by a hand that runs through his pink hair and down his face. he pulls at the skin on is face while strolling down the hallway in your direction. it’s a lot to handle in one night with no obvious path to decide on. he supposes as long as you feel safe, things will be okay. it’s just a matter of sorting this out with the police. until then, “no yeah, that’s fine. that’s fine, ☆. call me for things like this. like i said, stay here as long as you need and we’ll sort this out in the morning.”

it’s a sentence weighted with uncertainty. there is no defined explanation behind deal with it in the morning. there is no record behind tonight other than sukuna as a verbal witness. you didn’t even get a peak at the guy’s face. if the police didn’t take you seriously then, they won’t take you seriously now. you’re damn sure of that. it’s out of your hands though, because the effects of your panic have induced a sleepiness like no other now that you’re no longer on edge. you have no reason to argue and no leg to stand on so you nod and allow sukuna to lead you upstairs in hopes of unwinding from tonight.

[ot7stan4life]

My Comfort

Jiu & Dami x Female Reader

*Requested*

(1 part - completed ✅)

Word Count: 2,400

Summary: Just as you and your seven members are getting set on stage to perform at an award show, you start to have a panic attack. Minji and Yubin pull you backstage to help you through it.

Warnings: depictions of panic attack, self-deprecating dialogue, fluff ending

You had never considered yourself an overly anxious person. In fact, you prided yourself for how well you dealt with stressful situations, especially since you were forced to experience them often given your occupation as a kpop idol. The worst it usually ever got was a nervous heartbeat and sweaty palms here and there that might’ve distract you long enough to forget choreo at a fansign or trip over your words in an interview. Never anything major.

Certainly nothing like this.

As you stood next to your members on a dark stage, taking your place before the performance began, an unavoidable dread hung heavy on your heart. You couldn't be sure what exactly caused it—maybe the exhaustion you’d felt after a year of nonstop shows and promotions, maybe the added pressure that came with greater recognition following your group’s first win, maybe the constant hate being thrown at you that seemed even more prevalent in the recent weeks—whatever it was, it made your body hyper aware of everything around you.

The hundreds of people with their eyes drawn to the stage where you stood, whispering and talking. All with their own judgmental opinions of you and your members and your song and performance. The cameras zooming in, filming your every move, there to catch any mistakes and project it for the audience to see and record it for the world to replay over and over again for as long as they wanted, critiquing every little detail. The stage lights flipping on, shining a spotlight on you like an object to be ogled at, now overstimulating your senses and blinding you.

Why was it so bright? Had these stage lights always been this bright?

Your mind was racing with endless thoughts, never able to decide which one to focus its attention on. It was like flipping through a photo book without stopping long enough to take in one single picture. Just a never ending cycle of images and thoughts flooding your mind when you should've been focused on the upcoming performance. But it only got worse when your brain seemed to process the clothes wrapped around your body. All the sudden they felt too small, too tight. You wanted to rip them off of you. They were suffocating, just like the lights and the people and the camera and quicker and quicker your lungs inhaled and exhaled, oxygen thicker and harder to breathe with every breath. Sweat beaded on your forehead and you soon felt lightheaded. Your limbs all tingled with a sickly cool sensation and your mind grew foggy. The crowd in front of you started to waver and spin as the ground below you grew unstable. You weren’t moving but the room around you was. There was so much noise and silence all at the same time and your heart stung in your chest and pounded in your ears.

You couldn't even hear the music start, but it didn't matter anyways because you were clutching your chest and falling to the ground before you could ever move, the performance a distant blur to you. In that moment you’d forgotten where you were altogether as black dots spotted your vision, spreading until all you saw was darkness. For a second you thought you might've passed out, and maybe you did, but the next you were being dragged off stage by two strong pairs of arms, secure around either side of your body with your own arms slung over their shoulders. All you could do was weakly step in stride with them as they lead you somewhere backstage. Your eyes were closed now, but that only made it worse.

Your thoughts were somehow even more overstimulating than the surrounding environment. Once you processed what just happened, they became less random and more intentional. More targeted. They scolded you for being so weak. So unprofessional. How could you just let something as routine as a performance overwhelm you? How could you let the opinions of those who didn't matter get to you? How could you pass out on stage in front of a live audience? How could you embarrass yourself like that? How could you embarrass your group like that? You ruined the performance. You made your group look bad. You let your members down. You let the crowd down. You let your fans down.

One after the other, shot after shot fired at yourself, breaking away your strength and busting through your once composed exterior. Tears that you didn't realize had accumulated underneath your eyelids spilled down your cheeks while your lungs fought hard to keep up with the fast pace of your heart. Everything hurt and you felt trapped inside yourself. You were sure you’d never be able to break free from the prison of your mind and escape the incessant torture of negative thoughts.

Until you heard a soft voice.

"Y/N,” though it was distant, it started to ground you. Pull you from the darkness that consumed you. You felt the cushion of a couch beneath you and one hand on your shoulder, the other on your leg. "Hey, look at me." Another pair of hands felt soft and warm as they were gently placed on your cheeks. The contact willed your eyes open and forced you to look up at her through your tears. Focusing on anything was difficult, but Dami seemed to understand this, calmly saying "breathe" followed by a repeated rhythm of inhaling and exhaling oxygen through her lungs. You closed your eyes again and focused on her breathing, eventually matching her steady pace. Slowly, the thoughts started to dissipate one by one, your mind zeroing in only on the sound of air leaving her lips. The excruciating hammering of your heart gradually slowed to a normal, bearable rate as you leaned forward into her touch. Just as your forehead met hers, everything seemed to calm and your mind was finally at peace once again.

"You're okay,” she whispered, smoothly brushing her thumbs across your cheeks to collect the stray tears falling down them. "I'm right here,” she reminded you. You weakly reached up to hold onto her wrists, finding comfort in the feeling of her skin against yours.

Dami took the contact as a good sign and hesitantly leaned her head back so that your foreheads were no longer connected, but left her hands cupping your cheeks. When you opened your eyes and sniffled, you found her looking at you with a concerned expression, yet she granted you a small smile in hopes that it might lift your mood.

"I'm sorry,” was the first thing you thought to say. Your voice came out weak, groggy from the crying fit that had irritated your throat.

A different hand appeared in your peripheral, raising to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, drawing your attention to a member you didn't realize was sitting next to you on the couch until now. "Don't apologize,” your group leader spoke gently but assuredly, her eyes glazed over with unshed tears upon seeing one of the women she loved have an anxiety attack right before her, rendering her helpless.

You let out an unsteady exhale before leaning back against the couch. Dami released her hands from your face, instead placing one on your thigh and the other in one of yours: a silent reminder that she was still there with you while your attention shifted to Minji. "I ruined the performance,” you voiced. It was true, after all.

"That doesn't matter,” Minji shot back, unhappy with the fact that you would ever blame yourself for something like this.

"Yes it does,” you pushed back, now fully aware of just how big of a deal this was. "We’ve been preparing for this all year and I ruined it." The back of your throat started to burn, warning of oncoming tears.

"You couldn't control it,” Minji insisted, her perfect, pink lips pulling down further into a frown the more you berated yourself. "That's not your fault, baby." She inched closer to you, affectionately brushing her hand across your cheek, making you look into her eyes. It was obvious she was trying hard to convince you to see the truth in her words, but the damage from your previous thoughts had already been dealt.

"That doesn't matter,” you repeated her words. "People were counting on us to do well." Your eyes focused somewhere in the distance, no longer looking at her or Dami. All you could think about was your fans and how much you had let them down. "The fans have been waiting for this all year and I blew it." Your jaw clenched while you tried desperately to fight back the tears.

"I guarantee you not a single fan cares about the performance right now,” Dami replied matter-of-factly. Truth be told she was a little angry that you cared so much about the performance when that was the most irrelevant concern in her mind right now. They both knew you were stubborn and often tough on yourself but this had taken it to a whole new level.

"Everyone out there is only worried about your well-being,” Minji added, using her thumb to tilt your chin up so that you were looking at her again. "You getting better is all that matters right now, you got that?" She cocked an eyebrow, her tone less gentle in order to get her point across.

Sighing, you gave in, "yes,” you accepted, pushing the blame to the back of your mind for now.

"Good." Minji finally allowed herself to smile. The mere sight of it never failed to make you feel better. "Now let me go get you some water,” she said, standing up and placing a soft kiss on the top of your head before leaving the small dressing room.

Dami squeezed your hand, bringing your attention back to her. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly, scooting closer to your side in her own sort of protective way, never tearing her eyes away from you. You knew she was still worried, especially since this had never happened before.

You sat up straight, turning more towards her before replying, "I'm okay." Squeezing her hand back, you leaned in closer, finding comfort in her warmth like before. "Thanks to you." Your words elicited a smile from her: a real, genuine smile. You couldn't resist yourself, scooting even closer to kiss it off her face in a show of gratitude. Just like earlier, she held your cheeks in her hands, keeping you there as if you might dissolve into thin air or pass out again if she didn't support you.

"You really scared me for a second there,” she mumbled when you separated, her voice unsteady. It was rare for Dami to show such vulnerability; that's how you knew her words weren't an exaggeration. She had seen it all happen in slow motion, her heart stopping dead in her chest when you dropped in front of her. Both her and Minji were quick to rush to your aid, not caring one bit about starting the performance. The other members carried on reluctantly, despite their obvious concern, knowing at least someone had to remain on stage to see the performance all the way through. Had it been up to them, they would've blown it off just to make sure you were alright.

"I know,” was all you could manage in response. It came as a shock even to you, so you really can't imagine how surprised and horrified they were. They all had such big hearts, especially Minji; it was very likely that seeing you in such distress was more painful for them to witness than it was for you to experience. "But I'm okay now,” you reassured the younger member, placing your hands on top of hers and giving her your best convincing smile. She reciprocated, though hers still appeared uneasy.

"Here, my love,” Minji's voice prompted Dami to release you from her hold, allowing you to grab the chilled water bottle the leader was handing you. You thanked her and took a sip as she resumed her spot next to you on the couch. Her hand instantly raised to comb her fingers through your hair while you drank, apparently not wanting to go a second without showing you affection. A silence washed over you as they both just watched you take slow sips of the water, allowing your mind and body to finally find some relief.

Once you drank enough water, you screwed the lid back onto the bottle. Before you could put it on the small table in front of you, Dami carefully grabbed it from your hands and did it for you. Though you could've done it yourself, you found her extra cautious and caring behavior heartwarming.

"The members were wanting to see you, but I told them to give you some space for now,” Minji informed you, her hand now playing absentmindedly with your fingers while she stared at you lovingly, her head propped up by her other hand on the back of the couch. "Whenever you're ready, we can go over there or I can send them over here, but there's no rush." She interlocked her fingers with yours, her patience and thoughtfulness causing familiar butterflies to rage in your stomach. "I also want you to get checked out by medical staff... just in case." Her lips pursed as if just remembering what happened all over again and the thought of it brought her discomfort.

"Okay,” you complied with a gentle smile of thanks. Though, you didn't feel it was enough, so you tugged on her hand, edging her towards you. She got the hint and leaned in to close the distance. Her lips moved rather hesitant against yours, almost like she didn't want to harm you any further. You let go of her hand and brought yours up to her face to pull her more into you, sighing against her mouth in content.

Even just a simple kiss from either of them could wash away all the bad feelings you’d ever felt. They were your comfort, and, from here on out, you swore to never take that for granted.

**This imagine was transferred over from my Wattpad account OT5Stan4Life**

[defectivevillain]

stardom

pairings (all separate, can be platonic or romantic): monoma x reader, shigaraki x reader, & shinso x reader

the characters are idols and you are their manager!

reader’s pronouns: he/him

author’s note: HELP I didn’t mean for this to be so long... oof. I love how it turned out, though <(￣︶￣)> 

[ao3 version]

part two (featuring bakugo, kirishima, and todoroki)

part three (featuring present mic and miruko)

Monoma Neito

Monoma is a bit difficult sometimes. He’s pretty unreadable, in your opinion. One moment, the idol will act like he hates you and the next, he’ll act as if you’re best friends. It gives you whiplash. You’re never quite sure where you stand with him.

It doesn’t help that you’re constantly at odds with one another. That’s just how your relationship works. You tell him to do something, he doesn’t do it, and you argue with him until he gives in and gets it done. It’s common practice, at this point. Even so, Monoma is always looking at you with contempt and taunting in his eyes. Therefore, the first time his expression doesn’t hold those things, you’re pretty surprised.

Today is like any other day, except it’s a bit more relaxed. Monoma doesn’t have much planned, thankfully, so you’re able to catch up on emails and scheduling. You’re nearly done with the emails when you realize that there’s a conflict. Ordinarily, you’d resolve it by yourself, but since Monoma isn’t busy, you figure you might as well ask him. You walk across the hall, into his “office,” only to find yourself staring at a camera. You inhale sharply and quickly turn around and exit the room. Unfortunately, you think that you walked into his livestream. Dread coils in your chest. 

Monoma explains that you’re his manager just as you leave, but you don't stay to hear anything else he says. Instead, you close the door to your own office and put your hands over your face. You just... royally fucked up. Heart racing, you wrap up any drafts and walk out quickly. The rest of your night is spent trying to forget what happened. 

The next morning, you’re kind of dreading going to work. When you find yourself standing before the company building, you take a deep breath and steel your nerves before entering. As always, it takes you several minutes to get all the way to your office- what with all of the security measures and identification checks. When you finally make it to Monoma’s designated area, you’re unsurprised to find him splayed out on the couch, looking at his phone.

“You’re trending on Twitter,” Monoma states in lieu of a greeting. He’s entirely nonchalant and relaxed. You, on the other hand, stare at him in disbelief and bewilderment. Upon noticing your confusion, Monoma tells you to open Twitter. Sure enough, the Twitter Trending page shows #Monoma’sManager as a trending tag.

“Why?” You can’t help but ask. Monoma silently hands you his phone. You squint down at it and click on the tag. To your surprise, the first few posts are pictures of you, from Monoma’s stream yesterday. They’re accompanied with memes and various comments, ranging from “AWOOGA” to “i want to marry him,” [to your confusion and distress].

You let out a strangled sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Damn it,” you mutter. Ignoring Monoma’s inquiring gaze, you start to pace about the room. It doesn’t take long for you to lose your patience. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Monoma squints at you, his gaze finally breaking away from his phone. There’s a complex expression on his face. “You didn’t even do anything. Besides, it was bound to happen eventually.”

“True,” you acquiesce, turning your attention back down to your phone. You exit out of the trending tag. Just as you’re about to close the application, another tag catches your eye. It reads... #MonoManager ...? You squint at it for a moment. What does that mean?  

“I’m guessing you’re looking at the other trending tag, then,” Monoma says, scratching at the back of his neck. He's acting awkwardly, to your surprise. You decide to scroll down the tag a bit to try to find out what it means.

One of the top posts is a minute long clip, evidently taken from the stream. Out of curiosity, you decide to play it. You cringe as you see yourself enter the room for a millisecond before quickly leaving. Somehow, the video doesn’t end there. Once you’re gone, Monoma looks at the camera and sighs.

“That’s just my manager,” he explains, bringing the camera close so he can evidently look at the chat messages. Knowing his typical view counts, you’re impressed that he’s able to read anything. Monoma’s eyebrows furrow. “‘He’s pretty.’ Hm, I guess so. ‘Is he nice?’ He’s not insufferable.” The video ends. For a moment, you stare at the black screen, your mind reeling.

“Wow, that’s high praise,” you eventually remark sarcastically. Monoma jolts and looks over at you. He runs a hand through his hair and goes to explain.

“Well-”

“Relax, I’m just joking,” you interject, before he can provide an explanation you don’t want to hear. Actually, you’re not pretty and I just said that to appeal to the fans. You’re very insufferable, honestly. You’re expecting a remark along those lines. You’re definitely not expecting his next statement. 

“I was being serious, for the most part,” Monoma remarks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You are handsome. And... you’re far from insufferable, if that’s any consolation.” He makes a strange huffing noise at the end of that statement. 

“Oh, thanks,” you reply habitually. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. Surprisingly, Monoma is the first one to break your eye contact, as he averts his eyes. Is that a blush rising on his cheeks? You raise your eyebrows and turn back to your phone, committing his flustered expression to memory. 

Shigaraki Tomura

Shigaraki is very immature. This is a fact you grow to recognize within a mere few days of working with him. You suppose it isn’t exactly his fault- he entered the music scene very early on and practically his entire childhood was spent on stage. Even so, Shigaraki acts so childish and petty sometimes that it makes you want to scream. 

You’ve had your fair share of difficult idols to work under, but Shigaraki definitely takes the cake. It’s nearly impossible for you to get him to do anything. You can’t even count the number of times you’ve had to reschedule meetings and interviews simply because Shigaraki didn’t want to go. 

Same as always, the idol is trying to shirk his duties and responsibilities. Today, each request you make of him is met with eye rolls and scoffs. One time, you think he even growls at you. You’re closer to your breaking point with each additional remark. Eventually, you just snap. 

“Are you trying to irritate me?” You hiss, slamming your hands down on the table. Shigaraki visibly startles, looking at you with bewilderment. You dig your nails into your palms and glare at him expectantly. He doesn’t provide an explanation.

“This is my job,” you sigh. “Whenever you mess around, it reflects badly upon me. I’ve tried so damn hard to be flexible, to give you the space that you need, but you’re starting to abuse it. Just as I have my job, you have yours. Going to interviews and talking to reporters is a part of your job. Hell, that’s exactly what you signed up for when you became an idol. So, please, for the love of everything, stop making my job harder!”

You don’t stay to hear his response. Your hands are trembling and you race out of the building. Your heart is pounding in your ears and the predominant feeling stewing in your chest is guilt. You hadn’t meant to yell at him, but his behavior had been getting to be too much. Shigaraki didn’t respond to any of your other conversations or your light suggestions. He ditched multiple interviews and important meetings today, and you had to be the one to make the apologetic phone calls after. Your anger slowly subsides until it is replaced with regret. You shouldn't have yelled at him, you think to yourself. You fall asleep that night wishing the day had never happened. 

Unsurprisingly, you’re anxious at the prospect of going to work the next day. Hell, you’re not even sure if you have work anymore. That little outburst could’ve easily gotten you fired. As you’re walking into the company building, your heart is racing and you keep your eyes firmly fixed on the ground below. 

Once you enter the office, you’re surprised to find that Shigaraki is nowhere to be found. You decide to open your laptop and get through some emails. An hour passes and, to your amazement, you’ve gotten through your company email’s flooded inbox. When you finally do see Shigaraki, you notice that his behavior is somehow even stranger than normal. Whenever you offer suggestions, he takes them without argument. He goes along with the day’s schedule without complaint. It throws you off, to the point where you have to pull him to the side after an event and ask if he’s alright. Of course, the idol scoffs the moment you ask. You glare at him and Shigaraki sighs.

“You’re right,” the idol sighs, scratching his neck in what you recognize as his nervous tick. You’re surprised that it’s coming out now, especially considering that you’re not particularly intimidating. Shigaraki takes a deep breath. “I was making it harder for you.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you about it; that didn’t help,” you blurt out, guilt stewing in your chest. You bite your lip and glance at the idol. Shigaraki’s eyes are ever so slightly widened and his lips are parted. It seems he hadn’t expected an apology. “I just- Please know that this is my job as much as yours. So... Let’s reset the game, yeah?” You extend a hand. Shigaraki stares at you with such intensity and fervor that your heart starts to race. You wonder if the video game analogy failed. After all, you’re not as good with video games as Shigaraki is. Just when you start to doubt yourself, the idol clasps your hand and shakes it once. There’s an appreciative gleam in his eyes as he does so. 

“New save file,” Shigaraki murmurs to himself. He then walks back over to where he was sitting. You look at him for a moment before shaking your head in fond exasperation. 

Shinso Hitoshi

cw: non-consensual touching [it’s a touch on the wrist & it’s not from Shinso, dw]

Shinso is easily the most companionable, down-to-earth idol you've ever worked with. He’s the perfect balance of wit and sarcasm. He’s never been rude or mean to you- which seems like the bare minimum, but idols can be surprisingly rude, as you’ve learned in past jobs. Most of all, Shinso is intensely relatable. He never acts pompous or cocky. He bemoans simple things like the weather outside or having to stay late for work. If you were to meet him on the street, you’d have no idea he were an idol. Perhaps that’s his strategy, you muse to yourself.

Unfortunately, you’re the only one who seems to think so. Practically everywhere he goes, Shinso is recognized as an idol. Hell, the man can hardly go to the grocery store without getting requests for autographs and pictures. It must be exhausting, you muse. The idol often wears a hat and a mask- at minimum- whenever he goes out in public. Even then, wayward fans will sometimes stop him. 

You’ve grown accustomed to acting as a sort of usher to Shinso. He has legitimate bodyguards, yes, but they’re not always there. Furthermore, some fans can be determined as hell... You shudder at the thought. 

You’re once again reminded by the intensity of Shinso’s fans when you’re stepping out of the car and returning to the company building. Thankfully, you had the hindsight to request bodyguards to escort him back. It’s a good thing you did, because the car is nearly swarmed on all sides by screaming fans. The concept of intruding on private property doesn’t seem to dissuade any of the fans, as they continue to yell. 

You walk at a distance away from Shinso, fully intent on staying back. Unfortunately, the walk up to the building is rather long. You’re usually of the opinion that it looks nice. Today, though, you can’t help but hate it. The entrance feels so far away now. You trudge along, keeping your head down and resolutely moving on. Ironically, karma seems to strike you instantly. You're roughly tugged to the side. There's a hand latched around your wrist. The fan holding you is saying something, but you can’t quite understand it. You try to shake off their grip, but somehow their hand is still digging into your arm. It’s suddenly a bit harder to breathe. Your thoughts are spiraling and you’re about to cry when a voice cuts through the chaos. 

“Hey, stop.” You recognize the voice to be Shinso’s. You look back at him gratefully, surprised to see the indignant, infuriated expression on his face. The idol glares at the fan holding your wrist. You think he must have some sort of brainwashing powers, because the fan quickly lets go of you. You self-consciously bring a hand to your forearm, wondering if it will bruise. Shaking your head, you turn back to Shinso. You need to keep moving. You glance at the door, trying to signal to him that you should go inside. The idol nods and takes you by the arm. You immediately try to shake his grip, but it doesn’t falter. You’re well aware of the fans screaming even louder, for some reason, and Shinso’s fingers digging into the skin of your forearm. It’s not too tight of a grip, fortunately, but it’s enough to keep you from resisting. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you admonish him the moment the two of you are in the safety of the company building. Shinso rolls his eyes, as if he had been expecting you to say that. Perhaps he was. You decide to continue speaking anyway. “You know what fans will say.” You don’t bother to finish that statement. Shinso understands what you’re getting at, regardless. 

“I don’t care,” Shinso says, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s not usually this rigid in his thinking. You squint at him. Shinso’s eyes flit about your face for a moment before settling on some unknown point in the distance. “Besides, they were all over you.”

“I think you’re neglecting yourself in this situation,” you point out, shoving your hands in your pockets as you keep walking. “They’re your fans. They were all over you.” You’re walking behind Shinso and, admittedly, you’re a bit distracted. Thus, you don't notice him stop in his tracks until you run into his back. 

“Maybe, but I’m used to that kind of behavior,” Shinso says over his shoulder. His fists are clenched at his sides and he looks uncharacteristically angry. “You are not.”

You’re not sure how to combat that. You decide to remain silent, watching as Shinso turns around and levels you with a strangely heated gaze. The idol sighs, taking a step closer to breach the rather sizable distance between you. You watch in surprise as he places a hand on your shoulder and sighs. “Next time, if I’m not there.... Well, I should be there. Never mind.” He then retracts his hand- quickly, as if he’d been burned- and walks away. You follow behind him, your mind reeling from what just happened. 

if you liked this one, consider checking out part two, which features bakugo, kirishima, and todoroki :) or part three, which features present mic and miruko

ENDNOTES:

“You think Shinso must have some sort of brainwashing powers” .... lmao. that was my lil hint at the bnha universe.

mwahahhaha i am very happy with how this turned out Ψ(`_´ # )↝ 

ironically, i was originally going to write abt bakugo instead of shigaraki but... i couldn’t visualize it with bakugo, for some reason... besides, i think shigaraki kinda fits in with shinso and monoma better. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯   my clown ass also tried to write these in bullet format... safe to say, that didn’t turn out. 

anyway. enough of my rambling. thanks for reading !! 

[the-bar-sinister]

Lucifer Was an Angel As Well (63782 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth

catch up here A sheltered young artist with a tragic past finds herself caught in the web of dark affection by a beautiful and sinister murderer, and his carefree rockstar brother.

-

October 12, 2028– 10:15 am

"It's nice to see you again, Lana."

Kristoph had rearranged his cell very slightly– drawing his chair up near the bars, and a small table along with it. That made sense of course, since they'd be talking for longer today, and he'd probably be taking notes.

After all, she was on official business from the prosecutor's office, to prepare Kristoph Gavin for his new position and his community service.

She remembered the view on the other side of the bars intimately, and the excitement and fear of realizing that very soon you’d see the outside world again, at least in some capacity.

It was nice to see him. She took stock of his expression as she settled herself into the chair with a genuine smile. Soon, Kristoph Gavin would take to the courts once more– this time on her side of the courtroom. He looked, in her opinion, pretty happy about it.

“It’s nice to see you too, Kristoph. I hear you’ve been keeping well…with lots of company. I’m pleased.” 

Kristoph smiled even wider, his hands folded in his lap. "Oh yes, I've been getting lots of company this last month. It's been quite a comfort."

Lana adjusted her red scarf around her neck– a new one that Jake had purchased her as a ‘welcome back’ gift, geometrically patterned with a fringe at its end.

“I can only imagine, comfort bolstered by the good news, no doubt.” She leaned on her hand with a smile. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to visit more often. I’ve been behind the scenes working to secure this opportunity for you.” 

"You're more than forgiven,Lana, dear." He leaned a little toward her. "Even if you weren't helping me, I know you're busy organizing your own life beyond these bars. It's been treating you well, I hope?"

Lana nodded against her curled fingers, a thoughtful smile on her face. 

“That I have. It’s been treating me well. I’ve made amends with my dear sister, though– she’s often busy nowadays bustling about on her globe trotting investigations. They’ve given me an office again, right by the Chief Prosecutor’s.”

"Well, well! It sounds like Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth is happy to have you back then– or does he just want to keep you close?" Kristoph seemed to consider the matter, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Regardless, I'm glad to hear you're doing well. And your sister."

“I’d say the latter would be sensible.” Lana chuckled wryly “But he does seem to genuinely trust me. Which I’m glad for– he was my protege, after all. I think he’s glad for my return, and for my judgment now that it’s unclouded by Gant’s threats.”

She smiled at him. “thank you– and soon you’ll hopefully be doing a little better yourself. I’m to teach you all about the prosecutor’s path, after all.” 

"What a delightfully dramatic way to put it." Kristoph laughed musically. "One thing I'm going to have to learn to keep up with is typical prosecutor showmanship, for certain."

Lana laughed.

“It’s become an increasingly important skill. Back in my day , why…it was simpler. But each year the prosecutors become stranger and stranger, I’ve been thinking of how to keep up myself. My detective thinks I should join him and Diego in the ‘western’ theme, of course.” She smirked at him “any thoughts? Or do you think the handcuffs will carry the weight of impression for you?” 

"The cuffs will certainly contrast with my usual image– that's for certain. But I'll have to give it some thought. I wouldn't want to be considered too plain," he smirked teasingly. "Do you think you'll follow the suggestion and trade your epaulets for spurs? Maybe you ought to go the opposite way, and start wearing a sword to court."

She chuckled into her hand. “No, absolutely not. One western themed prosecutor is enough. It’d be insufferable if I joined in. I may, however, bring a sword. Lean into the military angle. The judge should be amused, if nothing else. As for yourself…it’s a chance to reinvent. Have fun with it.” 

"I'll give it due consideration," he agreed, folding his arms across his chest thoughtfully. "But I gather we have more to go over today than just fashion, more's the pity."

It was true. Lana had a whole stack of procedure material to go over with him, paperwork for him to sign, etc. But more interesting than all of that was the news that the chief prosecutor was intending to assign him cases within the week. Minor, straightforward ones, Lana was sure were meant to test his ability on the other side of the aisle.

Lana shifted to pull the stack of papers out of her bag to rest them on her lap, looking amused as she held them up. 

“More’s the pity. I’m afraid I’m already putting you to work. I hope your beautiful hands are ready to sign away for a few hours…because I’m going to have to catch you up on procedure quite fast.” She smiled wryly at him “because you’re going behind the bench by the end of the week.” 

"Well!" Kristoph's surprise and pleasure were written obvious on his face. "Nevermind my hands for now– let's get started!"

November 3, 2028– 1:05 pm

Kay leaned back in her chair, idly playing around with one of her lockpicking sets and a heavy padlock. She hadn’t exactly been out thieving very much lately, not since the start of her job as Miles’ official assistant, but it never hurt to keep yourself from becoming rusty.

Things had been changing around her as of late, the once quiet and understaffed prosecution office was now bustling, and she had recently re-hired prosecutors coming to her desk several times a day to ask for meetings with Miles, or to hand her the reports to file.

It was nice, as a thief herself she was a sucker for second chances…so seeing Lana around, Diego, Iris, and Jake…all of them really…had been nice. The justice system was shifting away from the harsh penalties and executions it’d been too used to, and into something more productive…starting right here in the prosecutorial office.

Sure, she’d gotten complaints in Miles’ box– which she’d sometimes taken the liberty of replying to herself– but some people sure loved to judge books by covers. If you asked Kay Faraday, things were looking up.

What the prosecutor's office didn't often get a lot of was unexpected visitors. Calls, sure, but it was surprising to see the unfamiliar figure shuffling through the door towards the reception desk. He was a tall and lanky man, somewhere in his late 30s or early 40s, with a pair of cheap black rayban sunglasses on his narrow, pointy face. He was dressed somewhat respectably in a striped polo shirt, but the pale blue jeans on his narrow hips had seen better days. Chin length blond hair framed his sharp chin.

“....” Kay slipped her lockpicks up her sleeve and folded her hands together with a raise of her eyebrow. “can I help you?” 

The man smiled widely, and Kay felt like she could count every one of his large, squarish, crookedly arranged teeth. She noticed that she he had a bundle of manilla folders under one arm.

He sauntered up to the counter and put the folders down, offering her his large, flat hand for a shake. "I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am. I have a bit of an unusual situation. My name's Carter Ackerman. You're–" he glanced at the nameplate on her desk, "Kay Faraday?"

“That’s my name, Mr. Ackerman. Well deduced.” Kay said with a low snicker “are you here to speak with a prosecutor? I don’t recall seeing your name on the appointment list.” 

"No, no appointment I'm afraid! A bit of an unusual situation," he repeated. "I'm actually just here to make sure I had the right Miles Edgeworth, you see. I've been trying to track down a relative, and his name kept coming up, you see."

Kay’s eye twitched. In all her years following Miles Edgeworth around and meeting weirdos on their investigations, she never met someone with a vocal tic that made her immediately think about kicking them in the knees.

If she heard ‘you see’ one more time, she was going to scream.

“Is the Mr. Edgeworth you’re looking for the Chief Prosecutor? Because if so, yes. You’re looking for a family member?” 

He scratched his hair and grinned wider at her. "That's a bit what I'm trying to figure out, Miss Faraday! The family member I'm looking for is Miss Vera Misham, and there's a Miles Edgeworth who keeps coming up in the paperwork, you see? So I'm wondering if I've got the right one on the horn so to speak."

Vera Misham??

Kay jolted in surprise as she looked up at the man in confusion. 

“...you’re related to Miss Misham?” As far as any of their research had come up with…Vera MIsham’s only family was her dead father. 

"Yes ma'am!" He ducked his head bashfully, his long, stringy hair bouncing around his chin, and his glasses briefly jolting on his nose. "Cousin by technicality you see, but I'd describe myself as more of an uncle figure. Bit frustrated with the system right now, between you and me. I only just heard about the tragedy a few months ago, and I've started trying to track her down, you see? Sounds like you know her?"

Kay Faraday stared at him in utter confusion. 

“You only just heard about it? No offense sir, but it was all over the national news. But if you’re looking to speak to Mr. Edgeworth regarding Vera, I can give him a call.” 

"Would you do that for me, Ms. Faraday? That'd be very kind of you, very kind." He leaned on her desk, one hand on his manilla folders.

Kay’s eyes were drawn to the folders as she reached out to her phone. 

“...might I ask what all that is?” 

"You can just tell him I'm concerned about Vera, and I'd like to get in touch."

November 3, 2028– 1:42 pm

Carter Ackerman was in Miles Edgeworth's office for about a half an hour. When he left, he gave Kay a jaunty wave, and whistled as he left the building.

Kay's desk intercom buzzed almost immediately. 

"Kay– could I have you in my office for a few minutes?" Miles asked. She knew him well. He sounded annoyed.

“Hooooooooo boy.” Kay hissed through her teeth “I knew it. I knew this was comin’.”

She stood up and hurried to join her boss by his side. If nothing else, the gossip was gonna be good.

Miles was leaning back in his chair, playing with his glasses in one hand. "Make sure the door's closed, thank you, Kay."

Oh yeah. It was going to be good gossip.

She shut the door behind her and sauntered over to lean on the desk “...alright, boss. Spill the tea.” 

He slipped his glasses back on his nose and wound his fingers together. "That was Vera Misham's cousin– apparently. He's seeking protective custody on her."

Kay’s brow furrowed. 

“you’re fuckin’ kidding. She’s an adult , why the hell’s her cousin asking for protective custody?” She crossed her arms after hopping atop his desk to sit “and I thought we didn’t turn up any family when she was orphaned, anyway.” 

"We didn't," he agreed. "And she's very much an adult, as we recently discussed. A fact which I was happy to remind him of. I'm very suspicious of this man, Kay. I'd like you to do some research into his background if you would. When he left the office, I got the impression that he;s going to try to make a claim in court. To have her declared mentally incompetent and in need of guardianship."

Kay’s expression twitched in anger that she barely…JUST barely restrained. 

“Mentally incompetent…Vera?? You’re kidding me. She’s a capable young woman! She’s in the frickin’ police academy, and he wants to try to make some kinda claim?” She flexed her fingers, her eyes narrowing as she tugged on the bottom of her gloves “I’ll steal the truth for you, boss. Don’t worry. I’ll get to the bottom of what this guy’s fucking deal is.” 

"I'll be counting on you, Kay."

November 17, 2028– 2:15 pm

October had passed like a flash of lightning, and November was threatening to race forward at the same pace. The pace of Vera's studies had increased, and she felt like she barely had time to reply to her angel's letters– but she did every time, as faithful with her correspondence as she was dutiful with her work. It was all good news– they'd already started letting him prosecute small, simple cases in court. Cases that only required him to be escorted to the courthouse and back.

Somewhere in the hazy rush of days, too, she'd gotten word that Klavier and Trucy had returned from Khura'in, bringing Apollo successfully home, as well as a few new friends.

It was exciting, genuinely exciting. She let the good news carry her even through the difficulty of her increasing pace and difficulty of the training. The few new friends were a surprise, but she’d texted Klavier that she wanted to meet them as soon as possible– she’d even written to Kristoph about the relayed news with a kind of curious amusement.

Of course, she kept an ear out…part of her utterly desperate to hear what sort of cases he was on and just how the prosecutor’s office was accepting him.

It inspired her, urging her forward with the desperation to graduate with the kinds of honors that would allow Mr. Edgeworth to grant her wish to stand by Kristoph’s sign as his assigned detective. 

She had her angel's latest letter on her desk in her stack of papers as she listened to a lecture on evidence procedural and handling procedure.

The best thing about her angel's letters perhaps, was that ever since she'd signed hers with a heart– Kristoph had signed his with one as well.

Her heart had skipped a beat the first time she saw it…and ever since, it’d warmed it every time she looked over a letter. Whenever she felt like she wanted to give up…whenever she felt weak or scared, she just looked at the letter and let the heart bolster her forward side by side with Pearl.

As the lecture droned on, she snuck another glance at it. 

The cases themselves haven't been very interesting, I'm afraid– mostly thefts and simple assaults– but just being able to stand in court again has been very refreshing. I feel already I've become accustomed to going on the attack rather than playing defensively. I'm looking forward to the day when I'll be able to investigate a crime scene myself, which I'm told may not be too far in the future.Vera imagined him there, smiling like an angel in the courtroom as he pressed his advantage…for a moment the imagining took her away from the lecture before she shook herself back to it and returned her attention to the teacher.

She couldn’t lapse now. Not when he was waiting for her. 

Her daydream was interrupted when she heard the instructor change topics. 

"Some of you have already heard about your upcoming internship next month in partnership with the prosecutorial office. I'm passing out packets relevant to that now. There will be two weeks over Christmas where classes will be suspended and your main duty will be to shadow your assigned prosecutor."

Vera perked up, her eyes wide as she put her hand to her lips to stifle her smile. She couldn’t help but wonder…who? Who would she be assigned to? 

Pearl caught her eye from the desk next to her, grinning with barely restrained eagerness and curiosity as the instructor came around and left packets in sealed envelopes with their names on each desk.

"Obviously, the specifics of the case or cases you'll end up shadowing are a mystery to everyone but Lady Justice for now," the instructor chuckled. "But your packet does include the prosecutor that you've been paired with."

Vera flashed her a smile as she held up her packet with a whispered ‘we should share who we got’ before she quietly began picking the flap open with a nod up at the instructor.

She couldn’t help but hope that somehow, impossibly…she might be assigned to Kristoph Gavin. 

Vera shuffled through the boring pages of paperwork until she found the sheet of paper where a name was filled in handwritten on a blank line declaring her assignment. 

The handwriting was familiar. It belonged to chief prosecutor Miles Edgeworth.

The name was familiar, too– it read Kristoph Gavin. Vera gasped, and her hand went to her mouth to stifle it before it…and the ecstatic smile on her face…became noticed by the class.

She felt like she was dreaming. Like the stars had aligned and twisted in her favor…Kristoph Gavin. Her guardian angel…her dream.

She’d even get to intern under him. 

November 17, 2028– 2:45 pm

In the hallway after class, headed back to their dorm, Pearl walked close to Vera, smiling excitedly and clutching her own packet to her chest much like Vera was.

"Can you believe it!" Pearl beamed.

Vera turned to face her as they walked, shuffling excitedly along with her packet clung to her chest.

“I can’t…I almost can’t believe it, Pearl. I get to intern with my guardian angel…” She squeezed it tightly to her heart–. “and you get to with yours…do you think Mr. Edgeworth made sure it happened??” 

"I mean, that was definitely his handwriting, right? I thought I recognized it, but you'd know for sure, right?" Pearl bit her lip. "I'm sure he made it happen. I mean, it's not like anyone else could make him do it if he didn't want to!"

“It absolutely was…it was absolutely his writing.” She bumped her shoulder against Pearl’s, laughing happily. “which means he’s giving us our chance , Pearl– like a trial run before our careers really start.” 

Pearl laughed and bumped her back before she opened the door of their dorm and held it for her.

"Knowing Mr. Edgeworth, that's probably exactly what it is, huh?"

Vera nodded as she slipped inside. 

“Almost certainly. He’s Mr. Cautious after all. He’s probably going to be keeping a close eye on how we work with Mr. Gavin and Mr. Armando.” 

Pearl followed her in, and shut the door. "Which means this is our chance to impress him, so we get the permanent positions that we want. We'll have to ace it!"

Vera pumped her fist with a nearly inaudible giggle. “It’s you and me, Pearl…we absolutely can! We’ve got this, right?” 

Pearl put her hand around Vera's fist and squeezed it. "We've totally got this! and if you need any help, you know you can count on me, alright?"

Vera’s other hand reached out to grab Pearl’s to squeeze them all together. “Promise…I’ll come to you first thing. Same goes for you, okay?”

"I'll count on you, too!" she beamed. "I know that we can pull this off if we work our hardest."

Soon. Soon Vera would achieve her dream. She'd be working with her guardian angel– no bars between them.

“Let’s let nothing stand in our way.” she beamed back, her whole body shaking with anticipation. Over two years ago, Vera’s life had been nothing but the rotting studio and her father…and the memories of the devil’s affectionate smile. Two years ago she could have never grown enough to get this far.

But here she was. Bolstered by the hopes of herself, Pearl…her big brother, and her guardian angel…and with the permission and blessing of Miles Edgeworth, she was finally going to become something irreplaceable.

Kristoph Gavin’s precious detective. 

November 18, 2028– 6:15 pm

The next day there was a text message from Miles Edgeworth, and later, after classes, a taxi he sent for her, to fulfill the invitation to dinner he'd extended. According to his message, he wanted to talk about her internship and 'other details'.

It wasn’t a surprise he wanted to talk about the internship– she imagined he still had his reservations on it after all. It was the other details that left her wondering as she entered the taxi and let it drive her to the restaurant.

She wasn’t sure if it was something to do with her letters, or possibly with her apartment while she’d been gone. 

Vera was glad she'd dressed up in one of her newer outfits, when the taxi pulled up and let her out at an expensive French cuisine restaurant. She had on another of the frilled ‘lolita’ dresses that Trucy had initially recommended and she’d become attached to. It was layered, with deep blue bows around the hem of the skirt and a matching ribbon around her neck. The restaurant, meanwhile, was one that she was aware was popular with the prosecutorial office, judging by mentions she'd heard of it before. It wasn't that far from the office itself, either.

It wasn’t a surprise. It seemed every time a prosecutor invited her out to dinner, it was at a place she couldn’t have even fathomed when she was only a little younger.

She gave the man at the door a nervous smile and asked if he could point her to the Edgeworth table. 

The maitre d' gave a little bow and ushered her into the handsome dining room of the restaurant, filled with greenery, and lit by a swarm of tiny electric candles. There was a band playing classical music in the corner.

As she was led to her table, she noticed detective Dick Gumshoe and Maggey Byrde dressed up at another booth, and Maggey gave her a little wave as she passed by. She was so distracted by it that she didn't notice that someone else was sitting at the table Edgeworth was at until she'd arrived.

There, sitting at the candlelit table with its high backed chairs, was Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth– and convict Prosecutor Kristoph Gavin.

Vera gasped the moment she turned from her wave to Maggey, her black gloved hands raised to her lips as she stared at Kristoph in his chair. Joy, surprise, excitement, devotion…they all spun within her and nearly made her dizzy as she came to a stop only feet from the table.

“Oh…” she whispered, “oh my.”

The maitre d' pulled out the chair for her at the table, and as she stood there in shock both men turned to greet her.

"Good evening, Vera, it's lovely to see you again," Kristoph purred with his usual angelic smile on his face. She couldn't help but notice that he was bound in a thick and obvious set of manacles.

"I hope you don't mind that I brought company to dinner, Vera," Edgeworth said, inclining his head toward her. He smiled, but he looked pensive. "I thought it would be best, given that your internship experience will be a little different than your fellow students– considering."

“C-considering, y-yes…” She gave Miles a broad smile. “Thank you for thinking of me, Mr. Edgeworth!”

She turned then to her guardian angel. “I don’t mind at all, h-hello Mr. Gavin. It’s…it’s absolutely wonderful to see you again…especially out at a dinner like this.” 

"I have to agree," Kristoph nodded. "It's been a while since I've been out to dinner. And with such good company, too."

As Vera arranged herself at the table– Edgeworth on her right and her angel on her left– the maitre d' poured wine into the glass at her place.

She gave him a thankful smile, before she sheepishly took the glass and raised it to her lips.

“Very good company…I’m surprised, but very happy, that you’re here, Mr.Gavin.” She glanced shyly at Edgeworth before she murmured “I missed you. I’m pretty excited that I get to work with you on my internship.” 

"I'll admit I'm a bit surprised to be here as well," Kristoph said with a charming smile. "I've thanked Mr. Edgeworth profusely for the opportunity. Both to be here tonight, and to work with you."

"Indeed," Edgeworth nodded. "I must say the both of you certainly seem enthused. That's… good energy for the department, if nothing else."

Vera sunk shyly into her chair with a sheepish smile. “good energy…? Do detectives not normally enjoy working with their prosecutors?” 

"That all depends on the prosecutor and the detective of course," Miles shrugged. "I'm told that many detectives find prosecutor's to be…. stuck up. Annoying. Tyrannical, occasionally."

Vera wasn't sure if this was meant to be a joke, but Kristoph smiled. "Occasionally I used to hear prosecutors call detectives lazy, irritating, slovenly…"

she squeaked, holding her hands up.

“Noooooo! I can promise I’m not lazy, Mr. Gavin.” She blushed, “or the other things, either.”

Timidly, she sipped her drink and looked between them “Mr. Klavier’s not stuck up or tyrannical. Though I have heard Ema complaining about him..”

Miles frowned. "The two of them have a… fraught relationship it seems. I try not to interfere."

Kristoph sipped his wine. The chains on his manacles clinked as he raised the glass. "They really haven't changed since they were teenagers. The same old squabble since back in germany. Klavier doesn't mean anything by it– Ema, I can't quite tell."

It was strange to be having such a normal conversation– even with the manacles reminding her that Kristoph was a prisoner.

“...since Germany?” Vera asked with genuine curiosity. “They’ve known one another that long?”

It was so normal…so pleasant. Mr. Edgeworth didn’t seem upset by her and Kristoph’s proximity, and the conversation didn’t have the heavy air of condemnation she feared it may.

It was…nice. Nice to hear more about her guardian angel’s life and her ‘big brother’...and her dear friends, while also in the company of Miles Edgeworth. 

"So they did," Kristoph nodded. "Klavier and I were living in europe at the time, and they met at the legal academy there."

"They only narrowly missed my sister Franziska, as I recall," Miles murmured. 

Kristoph swirled his wine in his glass and his chains clinked again.

"Yes, she was already prosecuting at the time. Actually, as I recall, Klavvy was rather inspired by your sister. To become a prosecutor rather than an attorney." He turned toward Vera and said, probably for her benefit, "Ms. Von Karma was prosecuting at 13. The youngest in the field to date."

Vera put her hands to her lips “oh wow…she must be a very impressive woman to inspire b..Klavier like that, and to have gotten started s-so early.”

It was amazing…the youngest prosecutor in the field ever, still holding the record even now. At 13, Vera was an expert forger…a genius like Franziska, she supposed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met her, Mr. Edgeworth.” 

"She's been in and out of the country for quite some time," Miles explained. "She no longer prosecutes regularly, rather she's the department liaison with Interpol, and does most of her work within their jurisdiction. I could arrange a lunch if you'd like to meet her some time."

"A very driven young woman– though I suppose not so young these days," Kristoph mused. 

“M-maybe.” Vera sipped her wine “I’m trying to get to know more people, after all.”

She looked up at Kristoph with a curious smile. “you knew her, Mr. Kristoph?” 

"She and I faced one another in court more than once at the time," Kristoph chuckled. "Three times, in fact. And she left with her perfect record intact. Some might have been embarrassed to losing to a teenager, but there's no shame in being beaten by a prodigy."

There was a little twitch at the edge of Kristoph's charming smile.

Miles seemed to grimace at the memory. "My sister was very… aggressive at the time."

Vera slowly reached out and patted Kristoph on the arm. 

“you’ll get her next time…boss…” she murmured with a timid smile. 

That made him laugh softly, and he tucked a stray lock of hair back behind his ear. "Unlikely, since she's no longer prosecuting, and here I am. But who knows what the future holds. Speaking of prosecution though, I do believe Mr. Edgeworth had some business he wanted to get out of the way?"

Vera startled a bit, looking up at Miles with wide eyes. She’d been curious…she knew Miles likely didn’t invite her out here for small talk, he’d mentioned something he had to say. Did it have something to do with the fact her guardian angel was here?

"Ah, some, yes," Miles nodded. "Given the unique situation of your internship. First of all I deemed it too unwieldy to have you conduct the internship from prison, so you'll be granted a small office for the duration, in the building, and transported back and forth at the beginning and end of the day."

"I can see why you;d make that judgment, Prosecutor Edgeworth," Kristoph nodded. "I'll still thank you for your generosity."

Vera put her hands to her lips. 

“useful!” She breathed “that will make…make assisting Mr. Kristoph with his duties and investigations much easier, Mr. Edgeworth, sir…” 

"Indeed," Edegworth said, "It would be inconvenient to have you going back and forth from the prison all day, so there we are."

Vera leaned forward, hoping she didn’t come off as too excited as she asked “and I’ll be allowed to come and go in it, Mr. Edgeworth? As his detective…intern.” 

"Indeed. This is very much a trial run for your ambition, Vera, in more ways than one," Mr. Edgeworth said.

Kristoph gave Vera an encouraging smile from across the table.

Vera’s heart thumped in her chest. It was her trial run for her ambition in more ways than one. She could only imagine that he meant what she thought he meant by that…

Was he tentatively accepting of it? Of her affection for Kristoph, and her desire to be by his side?

He had to be. Which meant she simply couldn’t prove him wrong in this trial run.

She raised her wine glass to her lips. 

“then I promise, Mr. Edgeworth. I won’t let you down.” her eyes fell on Kristoph with a smile behind her wine glass “I think me and Mr. Kristoph will manage to impress you by the end..” 

"Excellent," Edgeworth nodded. "I have already impressed upon Mr. Gavin that I will be watching him very closely– and the same goes for you, Vera."

Vera bit her lip. “you will be, Mr. Edgeworth? I suppose you said as much when I asserted my career choice to you. Have you seen my results so far at the academy?”

"I have, Vera, and they've been exceptional," he nodded. "So I'm counting on you not to let me down when it comes to practical experience as well."

"I think Miss Misham will continue to be exceptional, if you want my opinion," Kristoph purred.

Vera turned a deep pink, and her fingers wound together as the praise warmed her like nothing else. 

“I’m striving to be nothing l-less than exceptional, sirs.” Tentatively she reached out to pat Kristoph’s hand “I aim to be the best forensic investigator of my generation, and I won’t stop even after I’ve…I’ve impressed the both of you.” 

Edgeworth's eyes tracked her hand across the table all the way as she put it on Kristoph's hand– and immediately he poured more wine into his glass, perhaps in response.

"Indeed. I'm… looking forward to having my expectations exceeded," Miles murmured. "In any case there is some other business to discuss, I'm afraid."

Under the table, Vera felt a shoe press against her own– Kristoph's.

Vera ducked her head with a small smile as she allowed her foot to press gently back against Kristoph’s, rubbing subtly against it as she looked up at Edgeworth. “other business, Mr. Edgeworth? Is it about the internship, or something else?” 

"The internship is… potentially impacted by it," Edgeworth said. He took a sip of his wine. "I've been contacted by a man claiming to be one of your relatives, Vera."

Vera watched Kristoph raise an eyebrow. "Well. That's surprising, isn't it?"

She couldn’t stop herself from twitching in surprise. “A relative? Of mine? But I only ever had papa…he told me there was nobody else after my mother left us…” 

Kristoph's fingers curled subtly around her own.

"Indeed," Miles nodded. "And I confirmed as much several years ago when I took over your filings. However, he is making the claim that he's your cousin, and he does have paperwork to prove as much."

"What does he want?" Kristoph asked. There was a firm, suspicious tone in the question.

"He's seeking a protective order."

"Charming." Kristoph did not make it sound like he felt it was charming at all.

“........” Vera’s eyes were wide, and her smile had all but died as her fingers tightened against Kristoph’s.

“A protective order…on me? I don’t know him, I don’t h-have a cousin…and even if I did I wouldn’t ne-need one.”

"I agree with that," Miles nodded. "You're an adult. You live independently. There's no need for something like that. But he's making a legal claim and it will need to be countered."

"Wonderful," Kristoph drawled. "A bogus legal claim for a protective guardianship. Should I offer to marry her to cut the legs out of his attempt?"

Vera turned a vivid red, and she was sure Miles Edgeworth noticed the wide and flustered grin before she smothered it into her usual placid expression.Marriage to save her from whoever this ‘cousin’ of hers was…the romance of it made her squirm in her seat at a loss for words.

Miles Edgeworth choked on his wine, and grabbed his chest. "I– Mr. Gavin, I think in this case such a thing would only give ammunition to his claim."

Ammunition to his claim? Vera looked up at Miles with concern. Why in the world would that give ammunition to it? Unless..

"Pardon my humor in poor taste then."

“...Is…Is he basing this order of protection on my communication with Kristoph?” she guessed in a shaky tone. 

"No, he's unaware of it, as far as I know," Miles said, shaking his head and blotting his face with a napkin. "He's basing the claim on some letters between himself and your father from a number of years ago, discussing your mental health, and your father's apparent wish that if anything were to happen to him, that you be entrusted into this man's care."

"Funny how letters keep coming up," Kristoph murmured. His hand hadn't left hers.

Vera’s fingers twitched against his, and she held it tighter as her breath caught in her throat.

“Father asked that I be....entrusted to his care? I’ve never heard of anything like this, I c-can’t believe it. And even then I’ve grown s-since I escaped father’s care.” 

"So you have," Miles nodded. "You're an independent adult. I have no wish to see this go through any more than you do."

"And I assume that you're doing everything in your power to fight it, Mr. Edgeworth?" Klavier asked. His tone was light, but there was a sharpness in his eyes.

"Obviously."

Vera took several soft, shaking breaths…she could feel the way she was shaking…the quake of her fingers against Kristoph’s and the sick fluttery feeling of anxiety welling within her.

The very thought that there was someone out there trying to take her away from everything she’d built and drag her back down into the dark terrified her more than she could take. Old habits and the difficulty she’d once found in simple speech began to well up as she brought her fingers to her lips and bit her thumbnail to try and calm herself.

If it were true, and her father had spoken with someone who’d take her when he’d died, it could only mean he was selling her–passing her on to some other criminal to print money with, just another tool like her paintbrushes and paints. 

There was a clink of chains, and Kristoph moved his hand, putting it on her shoulder. It sounded as if he and Miles had continued their conversation while Vera was struggling to breathe. 

"Vera. Vera, are you listening to me?"

“H…hhh..” she breathed sharply. Her vision was swimming as she looked up at him with watery eyes “huh?” 

"You're having a panic attack and dissociating, Vera. Tell me where we are right now."

Vera swallowed thickly. For a moment she had no idea, the phantom smell of paint thinner in the air as she shook her head. 

It couldn’t be back at the house. Miles would have never visited there. She shivered and forced herself to focus on the room around her and not her spiraling thoughts.

“Restaurant.” she murmured. “..a..a restaurant.” 

"Good. And who's here with you?"

“M..” she looked quickly between them, “Miles Edgeworth and my guardian angel.” 

"Good. What kind of chair are you sitting on?"

Vera felt under her, and her perfect recall pulled up the picture of the chair. 

“a mahogany chair with an arched back and carved floral designs in its flourishes. There’s a chip on its left backmost leg that they’ve attempted to disguise and patch with varnish and wood-putty."

"Good. And how are you feeling right now?"

Calmer. She was already calmer. The world had swam back into focus, and she could see Miles Edgeworth sitting there, looking extremely nervous with his napkin wrung between his hands.

Vera smiled gently , her hair falling in her face as she took another breath…this one deep and satisfying.

“Better. I feel calmer.” she murmured. “Sorry about that, Mr. Gavin. Mr Edgeworth…wh-what were you saying?” 

"Mostly we were worrying about you, Vera," Edgeworth said with a frown. "I'm sorry I upset you so much."

Vera shook her head “No, no it wasn’t you Mr. Edgeworth…”

She looked down at her painted nails…one of them chewed through lower than it’d been in years. The taste of polish was on her tongue, sharp and bitter.

“I was just trying to imagine who this ‘cousin’ might be, and I got thinking about my father…how he must have wanted to pass me on like a printing press or some other expensive tool.” 

"Ah," Miles nodded. "I… the thought had crossed my mind as well. But we won't allow that to happen. It would take a disaster of unprecedented magnitude to–"

"Mr. Edgeworth?"

"Ah, yes, Mr. Gavin?" 

Kristoph smiled. "I don't think there's any need to discuss nightmare scenarios. The simple fact is that it won't happen.."

"Ah, yes, you're right," Edgeworth nodded and straightened his cravat. "I'll admit, I admire your confidence. And your way with people, I suppose." He glanced at Vera.

"Talking her through her panic attack just now?" Kristoph's smile dimmed very slightly. "I have experience with it, I'm afraid."

Vera ducked her head apologetically again, smiling quietly as she rubbed her fingertip against her jagged nail. 

“Helped a lot.” she admitted “...you do, Mr. Gavin? I can tell…you were…c-calming.” 

"My brother used to have them when we were younger I'm afraid. I got used to soothing him."

"Ah," Edgeworth murmured, still fussing with his cravat. "That would be a useful skill to have in one, if one were susceptible to such a thing. In any case, I'm glad you were able to reassure Vera a bit."

Vera’s fingers reached out again to touch Kristoph’s arm, “I didn’t know he and I had that in common too..” she murmured

She looked at Edgeworth with a shaky smile. 

“...a-anyway. I won’t let it happen either…I don’t intend to let anyone take my future from me.” 

"Good." Edgeworth nodded. "Well then– let's consider business out of the way for now and have dinner. I can fill you in on the rest over coffee."

"That sounds nice, Mr. Edgeworth," Kristoph said with a smile. "Why don't we talk about lighter things for now. Vera, have you seen the menu yet? You might recognize one of the dishes on it."

Vera looked down at the menu, and her expression lit up as she held it up “Vongole!!! I want to order that!” 

[onlyxxbutmymindisolder]

Scifi/Mecha Story

A flurry of sparks sputtered from the nozzle of the welding gun as Nia banged it against the edge of the rusty metal table, cursing under her breath. “Work, you old piece of junk! You’ve hung on to life for twelve years, you can manage for one more night.” She shook it again, and it made a sad hissing noise akin to a plea of surrender. Sitting on a stack of boxes a few feet away (even though, as a robot, his legs didn’t get tired) Otii cocked his head.

“Maybe it’s given up the ghost? Twelve years is an awfully long time for that piece of equipment.”

Nia gritted her teeth. “My mom and Vale both managed to revive it before. If it’ll work for them, it’ll work for me.” Sighing, she turned the gun off and went to remove the back panel, when a rumble from above made her freeze. “Otii. Is my brother-”

The lights on Otii’s face panel flashed a myriad of colors as he linked up to the house’s security system. Nia stayed tensed for a painful few moments as he processed the information, ready to sweep everything she was working on into a box and punt it under the table. She nearly jumped when Otii gave his report: “No, Vale’s car is not on the premises. It was just someone passing by.” Nia let out a breath, her shoulders dropping. “However, I should note it is currently 9:30. If you’d like to have dinner ready by the time he gets home, starting it soon would be advisable. Shall I chop the vegetables so you can finish up?”

Nia looked at the broken welding gun, then at the mess of parts on the table. Surrounded by nuts, bolts, and the metal half-sleeve she’d been trying to put together was a single black glove with wires clumped around it like cobwebs. Next to it was a series of pieces that would form an interlocking shell, protecting the wires while also allowing ease of movement. Key word - would. Even with Otii’s endless well of knowledge and her own tech experience, progress on the Shock Grip had been incredibly slow. And with a busted welder… “...No, thanks. I can’t ask you to help with food you won’t even be able to eat. Besides, you’re a guest,” she added. “Vale would flip.”

“He is very etiquette-oriented,” Otii observed. “A tendency I see you have as well.”

Stopping halfway through tucking the glove into a corner of the designated storage box, Nia felt her face flush. “Don’t compare me to him,” she grumbled, turning away from Otii so he wouldn’t see. “We’re polar opposites.”

“Going by the data I’ve collected from seven years of knowing you both, I would beg to differ. You are not the same, yes, but you do share several key similarities in personality and behavior, such as-”

“Otii.” Her tone said it all. Otii tossed his hands in the air in a recognition of defeat.

“Alright, alright. I am simply sharing my opinion. I grant that you are probably far more informed on the subject. Still…”

Nia raised an eyebrow. “Still, what?”

Otii peered at her from his cardboard perch. “I would think you would welcome the comparison. You have a very good relationship with Vale, do you not? Your interactions lately have not seemed any less affectionate than usual.”

“I do… get along with him, yeah.”

“You haven’t fought lately, have you?”

“No. It’s not that I don’t like him, or don’t think of him as someone I should be trying to emulate.” Nia tossed a bag of bolts on top of the box’s contents and knelt down so she could shove it all the way under the table, where it would be out of sight. “It’s just… I think you’re wrong. I’m not like him.”

Otii tilted his head. “If I may ask… How so?”

Nia gave the box a final push, sat back, and then leaned forward to pull another one in front of it. How was she not like her brother? In a myriad of ways, that’s how. Ways that she didn’t speak aloud because it felt like that would make them more real, like she would personally be widening the gap between them in a way that could never be bridged. And also because she was too embarrassed to say it, because her brother and Otii likely wouldn’t understand, and because she couldn’t bear the thought of facing their sympathy. That roughly summed it up. Finishing her fiddling with the box, and realizing she had left Otii’s question hanging in the air, Nia crawled out from under the table and gave him a relatively useless answer: “We’re just different.”

Otii made a soft, mechanical hum, but mercifully didn’t respond.

A few minutes later, Nia was drizzling oil onto a pan full of sauteing vegetables, inhaling the savory smell of the spices she’d tossed them in. At some point during meal prep Otii had snuck off, and now out of the corner of her eye she saw him setting the table. Sometimes Nia wondered why she still insisted he follow guest rules; although he technically lived at a Non-occupied Automaton Housing Unit on the outskirts of the city, he spent most of his time at Nia and Vale’s house, even staying over some nights. Both siblings welcomed him. After seven years, he had practically become part of the family.

[dfroza]

A full disclosure is coming.

and we have to personally choose what our treasure will be.

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 12th chapter of the book of Luke:

The crowds at this time were packed in so tightly that thousands of people were stepping on each other. Jesus spoke to His disciples, knowing that the crowds could overhear.

Jesus: Guard yourselves from the yeast that puffs up the Pharisees—hypocrisy, false appearance, trying to look better than you really are.

Nothing is covered up that won’t be discovered; nothing is hidden that won’t be exposed. Whatever a person says in the dark will be published in the light of day, and whatever a person whispers in private rooms will be broadcast from the housetops.

Listen, My friends, if people are trying to kill you, why be afraid? After you’re dead, what more can they do? Here’s whose opinion you should be concerned about: the One who can take your life and then throw you into hell! He’s the only One you should fear! But don’t misunderstand: you don’t really need to be afraid of God, because God cares for every little sparrow. How much is a sparrow worth—don’t five of them sell for a few cents? Since you are so much more precious to God than a thousand flocks of sparrows, and since God knows you in every detail—down to the number of hairs on your head at this moment—you can be secure and unafraid of any person, and you have nothing to fear from God either.

That’s why I keep telling you not to be intimidated. If you identify unashamedly with Me before others, I, the Son of Man, will affirm you before God and all the heavenly messengers. But if you deny Me before others, you will be denied before God and all the heavenly messengers. People can speak a word against Me, the Son of Man, and the sin is forgivable. But they can go too far, slandering the testimony of the Holy Spirit by rejecting His message about Me, and they won’t be forgiven for that.

So you can anticipate that you will be put on trial before the synagogues and religious officials. Don’t worry how you’ll respond, and don’t worry what you should say. The Holy Spirit will give you the words to say at the moment when you need them.

A person in the crowd got Jesus’ attention.

Person in the Crowd: Teacher, intervene and tell my brother to share the family inheritance with me.

Jesus: Since when am I your judge or arbitrator?

Then He used that opportunity to speak to the crowd.

Jesus: You’d better be on your guard against any type of greed, for a person’s life is not about having a lot of possessions.

(then, beginning another parable) A wealthy man owned some land that produced a huge harvest. He often thought to himself, “I have a problem here. I don’t have anywhere to store all my crops. What should I do? I know! I’ll tear down my small barns and build even bigger ones, and then I’ll have plenty of storage space for my grain and all my other goods. Then I’ll be able to say to myself, ‘I have it made! I can relax and take it easy for years! So I’ll just sit back, eat, drink, and have a good time!’”

Then God interrupted the man’s conversation with himself. “Excuse Me, Mr. Brilliant, but your time has come. Tonight you will die. Now who will enjoy everything you’ve earned and saved?”

This is how it will be for people who accumulate huge assets for themselves but have no assets in relation to God.

(then, to His disciples) This is why I keep telling you not to worry about anything in life—about what you’ll eat, about how you’ll clothe your body. Life is more than food, and the body is more than fancy clothes. Think about those crows flying over there: do they plant and harvest crops? Do they own silos or barns? Look at them fly. It looks like God is taking pretty good care of them, doesn’t it? Remember that you are more precious to God than birds! Which one of you can add a single hour to your life or 18 inches to your height by worrying really hard? If worry can’t change anything, why do you do it so much?

Think about those beautiful wild lilies growing over there. They don’t work up a sweat toiling for needs or wants—they don’t worry about clothing. Yet the great King Solomon never had an outfit that was half as glorious as theirs!

Look at the grass growing over there. One day it’s thriving in the fields. The next day it’s being used as fuel. If God takes such good care of such transient things, how much more you can depend on God to care for you, weak in faith as you are. Don’t reduce your life to the pursuit of food and drink; don’t let your mind be filled with anxiety. People of the world who don’t know God pursue these things, but you have a Father caring for you, a Father who knows all your needs.

Since you don’t need to worry—about security and safety, about food and clothing—then pursue God’s kingdom first and foremost, and these other things will come to you as well.

My little flock, don’t be afraid. God is your Father, and your Father’s great joy is to give you His kingdom.

That means you can sell your possessions and give generously to the poor. You can have a different kind of savings plan: one that never depreciates, one that never defaults, one that can’t be plundered by crooks or destroyed by natural calamities. Your treasure will be stored in the heavens, and since your treasure is there, your heart will be lodged there as well.

I’m not just talking theory. There is urgency in all this. If you’re apathetic and complacent, then you’ll miss the moment of opportunity. You should be wide awake and on your toes like servants who are waiting for their master to return from a big wedding reception. They’ll have their shoes on and their lamps lit so they can open the door for him as soon as he arrives home. How fortunate those servants will be when the master knocks and they open the door immediately! You know what the master will do? He’ll put on an apron, sit them down at the kitchen table, and he’ll serve them a midnight snack. The later he comes home—whether it’s at midnight or even later, just before dawn—the more fortunate the alert servants will be.

In contrast, imagine a complacent, apathetic household manager whose house gets robbed. If he had been aware that thieves were waiting in the bushes and what hour they were coming, [he would have watched and] he never would have left the house! I’m trying to tell you that these are times for alertness, times requiring a sense of urgency and intensity, because like the master in the first story or the thief in the second, the Son of Man shows up by surprise.

Peter: Lord, I’m not sure if this parable is intended only for us disciples or if this is for everyone else too.

Jesus: Imagine the stories of two household managers, and decide for yourself which one is faithful and smart. Each household manager is told by his master to take good care of all his possessions and to oversee the other employees—the butlers, cooks, gardeners, and so on. One servant immediately busies himself in doing just what he was told. His master eventually comes to check on him and rewards him with a major promotion and with more responsibility and trust. The other household manager thinks, “Look, my boss is going to be gone for a long time. I can be complacent; there’s no urgency here.” So he beats the other employees—the women as well as the men. He sits around like a slob, eating and getting drunk. Then the boss comes home unexpectedly and catches him by surprise. One household manager will be fortunate indeed, and the other will be cut into pieces and thrown out.

Now if a servant who is given clear instructions by his master doesn’t follow those instructions but instead is complacent and apathetic, then he will be punished severely. But if a servant doesn’t know what his master expects and behaves badly, then he will receive a lighter punishment. If you are given much, much will be required of you. If much is entrusted to you, much will be expected of you.

This is serious business we’re involved in. My mission is to send a purging fire on the earth! In fact, I can hardly wait to see the smoke rising. I have a kind of baptism to go through, and I can’t relax until My mission is accomplished! Do you think I’ve come with a nice little message of peace? No way. Believe Me, My message will divide. It will divide a household of five into three against two or two against three. It will divide father against son and son against father; mother against daughter and daughter against mother; mother-in-law against daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.

(speaking to the crowd) You see a cloud arise from the sea in the west, and you can say, “Here comes a shower!” And you’re right. Or you feel the hot wind blowing in from the desert in the south and you say, “It’s going to be really hot!” And you’re right. Listen, hypocrites! You can predict the weather by paying attention to the sky and the earth, but why can’t you interpret the urgency of this present moment? Why don’t you see it for yourselves?

Imagine you’re being sued. You and your accuser are on your way to court. Wouldn’t you do everything in your power to settle out of court before you stand before the magistrate? After all, he might drag you to stand before the judge, and the judge might hand you over to the police, and they might throw you in jail. Once you’re in jail, it’s too late: you’re not going anywhere until you’ve paid in full.

The Book of Luke, Chapter 12 (The Voice)

Today’s paired reading from the First Testament is the 4th and closing chapter of the book of Malachi and the closing chapter of the First Testament to fully “rewind” to the beginning (the Genesis) in tomorrow’s reading:

Eternal One: For behold the day of burning will come, smoldering like a furnace. The arrogant and the evil will be set ablaze like the worthless chaff of grain. Neither roots nor branch will remain. I, the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, promise this. But for you, the ones who tremble at the sound of My name, a warm sun of righteousness will come forth with healing in its rays, and you will go out, springing from the stalls like calves in open pasture. Then you will trample the criminal; your feet will make them ash on the day I am preparing. I, the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, promise this.

Remember the instructions which Moses, My faithful servant, received from Me at Mount Horeb and gave to all Israel. Remember its statutes and judgments.

Keep watch. I am sending Elijah the prophet to you before the arrival of the great and terrible day of the Eternal One, and he will return parents’ hearts to their children and children’s hearts to their parents, or else I will come and strike the land of promise with a curse of annihilation.

The Book of Malachi, Chapter 4 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

These verses simultaneously display retrospective and prospective dimensions of Malachi’s conversation with the people, especially the temple priests, of Jerusalem. Malachi calls his contemporaries to remember the life and message of Moses and future generations to look forward to the life and message of the Elijah who is to come. As Ezra in the fifth century b.c. is like Elijah, reflecting these expectations, so John the Baptist is the messenger par excellence 400 years later when he prepares the world for Jesus of Nazareth, God’s Anointed One.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Saturday, march 2 of 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New) of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about the significance of the Sabbath “rest”:

In this week’s Torah portion (i.e., Ki Tisa) we read: "Therefore the people of Israel shall keep the Sabbath, observing the Sabbath (לַעֲשׂוֹת אֶת־הַשַּׁבָּת) throughout their generations, as a covenant forever. It is a sign forever (אוֹת הִוא לְעֹלָם) between me and the people of Israel that in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day he rested (שָׁבַת) and was refreshed (וַיִּנָּפַשׁ)" (Exod. 31:16-17).

Upon a closer consideration of this text we might wonder how we can both "do" and "not do" something at the same time? Note that the phrase "observing the Sabbath" (לַעֲשׂוֹת אֶת־הַשַּׁבָּת) can literally be understood as "making" or "doing" (עשׂה) the Sabbath, and yet we are told to "rest" -- שָׁבַת -- meaning to cease or desist from any labor (מְלָאכָה). Indeed God calls the Sabbath day "shabbat shabbaton" (שַׁבַּת שַׁבָּתוֹן), a day of complete rest, holy to the LORD (Exod. 31:15). So how can we “make” the Sabbath and yet cease from work?

The sages have attempted to resolve this paradox by saying that the words, "on the seventh day he rested and was refreshed" (וּבַיּוֹם הַשְּׁבִיעִי שָׁבַת וַיִּנָּפַשׁ) imply that God did something after he created the universe, namely he "made rest" by celebrating the work of his hands and savoring the beauty of his creation. God "set the table" for creation and paused to reflect on its significance and purpose, and he wants us to do likewise.

We can "make" the Sabbath day a time of "rest" or menuchah (מְנוּחָה), by letting go of our weekly concerns and the usual preoccupations that surround our lives. Sabbath is an invitation to “ascend” to a higher level, to consciously re-connect with God as both our Creator and our Redeemer. We lift up the cup of God's salvation; we partake of the bread of heaven.... We glorify the great Lamb of God. If we make the Sabbath a delight, a time of holiness and honor, then God "will cause you to ride upon the high places of the earth, and he will feed you with the heritage of Jacob thy father" (Isa. 58:13-14). "Behold, the LORD'S hand is not shortened, that it cannot save; neither is his ear heavy, that it cannot hear."

The Fourth Commandment says we are to keep the Sabbath day holy (קָדוֹשׁ), and it further connects this with separating from worldly preoccupation: "six days shall you labor and do all your work” (Exod. 20:9). Resting from work, as Abraham Heschel once said, “is not a depreciation but an affirmation of labor, a divine exaltation of its dignity.” And because we are called aside from the burden of the mundane, we are "lifted out" of the process of time, not focusing on what we do but rather who we are as God's redeemed people...

This is further exemplified in the ministry of Yeshua who "worked" on the Sabbath in the sense of doing acts that were derived from his connection with heaven. It can be assumed that Yeshua and his family faithfully observed the Sabbath and regularly attended synagogue (Luke 4:16). However later on, during the time of his active ministry we read that Yeshua’s idea of the Sabbath included doing works of lovingkindness (גְּמִילוּת חֲסָדִים): “At that time Yeshua went through the grain fields on the Sabbath. His disciples were hungry and began to pick some heads of grain and eat them. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to him, ‘Look! Your disciples are doing what is unlawful on the Sabbath.’” But he said to them, ‘Have you not read what David did when he was hungry, and those who were with him: how he entered the house of God and ate the bread of the Presence, which it was not lawful for him to eat nor for those who were with him, but only for the priests? Or have you not read in the Law how on the Sabbath the priests in the temple profane the Sabbath and are guiltless? I tell you, something greater than the Temple is here’” (Matt. 12:2-6).

Here we see Yeshua’s understanding that Sabbath is to be centered upon life and healing and not merely the abstention from work. When later Yeshua was accosted by the Pharisees regarding healing a man on the Sabbath day, we read that he said to them, "Which one of you who has a sheep, if it falls into a pit on the Sabbath, will not take hold of it and lift it out? Of how much more value is a man than a sheep! So it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath" (Matt. 12:11-12). This is the principle of pikuach nefesh (פִּיקוּחַ נֶפֶשׁ), saving a life, which preempts other considerations of religious observance... As Yeshua said, “man was not made for the Sabbath, but the Sabbath was made for man” (Mark 2:27).

“And Pharisees came up and in order to test him asked, ‘Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?’ He answered them, ‘What did Moses command you?’ They said, ’Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of divorce and to send her away.’ And Yeshua said to them, ‘Because of your hardness of heart he wrote you this commandment...’” (Mark 10:2-5; see also Matt. 19:8-9). Note here that Yeshua plainly explained that the “law” on divorce was given to accommodate the evil impulses of the heart, though such a law was never intended to be enacted. In other words, there are many laws given in the written Torah that, were it not for the problem of the heart, should never need to have been written down in the first place (see Mark 7:20-23). Laws against adultery, lying under oath, stealing, dishonoring parents, turning away from God, and so on, all were given in light of the “hardness of heart” (קשיות הלב) that is here referred to by Yeshua. Likewise the apostle Paul spoke of the law as being given to restrain the evil latent within the unregenerated heart: "We know that the law is good, if one uses it lawfully, understanding this, that the law is not laid down for the just but for the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and sinners, for the unholy and profane..." (1 Tim. 1:8-9). Indeed much of the law was written - not for the righteous, but for the unrighteous - as a "gilded cage" intended to restrain evil impulses until the blessing of salvation would transform the human heart. That is the message of the gospel, after all - that God would recreate people and impart a new nature that would willingly walk in ways of divine righteousness and truth.

The Torah clearly forbade touching those afflicted with tza’arat (or “leprosy”; see Lev. 14:1-9), though the New Testament provides testimony that Yeshua did just that. “And behold, a leper came to him and knelt before him, saying, ‘Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.’ And Yeshua stretched out his hand and touched him, saying, ‘I will; be clean.’ And immediately his leprosy was cleansed. And Yeshua said to him, ‘See that you say nothing to anyone, but go, show yourself to the priest and offer the gift that Moses commanded, for a proof to them’" (Matt. 8:2-4; see also Mark 1:41; Luke 5:13). Likewise the Torah forbade touching a corpse at the expense of becoming unclean, yet Yeshua both touched corpses and brought people back to life (Luke 7:14; Matt. 9:25). How was it possible for Yeshua to do these things and not be regarded as “unclean,” unless he is the Authority of the Torah of the LORD (for more on this see the Mystery of the Red Heifer and the Gospel of the Red Cow).

Again we read in the gospel: “And a man was there with a withered hand. And they asked him, ‘Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?’ -- so that they might accuse him. He said to them, ‘Which one of you who has a sheep, if it falls into a pit on the Sabbath, will not take hold of it and lift it out? Of how much more value is a man than a sheep. So it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath.’ Then he said to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’ And the man stretched it out, and it was restored, healthy like the other. But the Pharisees went out and conspired against him, how to destroy him” (Matt. 12:10-14). Note how Yeshua used a kal va'chomer inference (i.e., קַל וְחמר, "light and weighty") to make his point, namely, that if a light condition is true, then a heavier one is certainly true. If saving the life of an animal is important, even if doing so involves “working” on the Sabbath day, then how much more should we save the life of a human being?

When we read the Scriptures, it is we ourselves who are tested so that our heart's condition is manifest (Jer. 17:10). Therefore we are instructed are to "rightly divide (ὀρθοτομέω, lit. "cut straight") the word of truth (2 Tim. 2:15). This is our responsibility as talmidim. Yeshua clearly taught the laws of Torah and moved them “inward,” to be made a part of the heart. He faulted the Pharisees for tithing “mint and cumin” while neglecting the “weightier matters” of the law – that is, the deeper truth to love and care for others (see Matt. 23:23). He repeatedly stressed the need for the law to be “written upon the heart” and not to be regarded as a set of external decrees written upon tablets of stone... It is our personal responsibility, then, to apply these matters to our lives. May God give us wisdom and insight. Shalom chaverim!

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Hosea 6:6 reading (with commentary):

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/hos6-6-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/hos6-6-lesson.pdf

2.28.24 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel365:

Harmony of Hope

By: Shira Schechter

MARCH 1, 2024

As the Friday sun sets, casting a serene glow and heralding the arrival of the Sabbath, Jews across the globe pause for some moments of deep reflection. This special time is marked by the recitation of Kabbalat Shabbat, a collection of prayers and songs that welcome the Sabbath. One of the Psalms recited during this ritual is Psalm 92, a song of gratitude and faith. In its verses, the psalmist reminds us of the importance of thanking God and singing to Him, acknowledging His kindness in the morning and His faithfulness at night:

טוֹב לְהֹדוֹת לַיהֹוָה וּלְזַמֵּר לְשִׁמְךָ עֶלְיוֹן׃

It is good to praise Hashem, to sing hymns to Your name, O Most High,

Psalms 92:2

לְהַגִּיד בַּבֹּקֶר חַסְדֶּךָ וֶאֱמוּנָתְךָ בַּלֵּילוֹת׃

To proclaim Your steadfast love at daybreak, Your faithfulness each night

Psalms 92:3

At first glance, the contrast between morning and night in these verses might seem straightforward—day and night, light and darkness. However, there is a deeper meaning to these words. Morning represents the times in our lives when God’s presence is unmistakable, when His blessings are as clear as daylight. Night, on the other hand, symbolizes those periods of darkness and difficulty, when finding God’s hand in our lives requires a leap of faith.

It is during these “dark nights,” when despair might seem justifiable, that the true challenge of faith arises. Precisely in those times, amidst our trials, we are called on to proclaim His faithfulness. This echoes the teachings of the great sage Rabbi Akiva, who famously maintained that everything God does is for the good.

Similarly, Rabbi Shlomo Kluger, a prominent rabbi in the early 19th century, commented on the verse, “Thank the Lord because things are good; His kindness is forever” (Psalms 118:1). He beautifully explains that “God’s kindness is forever” means that God’s eternal kindness includes even those moments when it seems most hidden from us. In times of hardship, we are urged to maintain our gratitude and faith, recognizing that His goodness is constant, even when not immediately apparent.

This principle of unwavering faith even in difficult times was poignantly illustrated by Jewish singer Avraham Fried. In 2014, he visited the home of Gilad Shaer—one of the three teenagers tragically kidnapped and killed by Hamas terrorists in 2014. In the depths of mourning, Gilad’s mother requested Fried to sing the very words from Psalm 92:2-3. Her request, born from an unimaginable loss, was a powerful testament to the strength of faith and the capacity to find God even in the most harrowing circumstances.

“It is good to praise the Lord.” Of course, we don’t wish suffering upon anyone, nor do we mean to minimize the losses that people experience. But when we do suffer, we are meant to examine our lives and our behavior to figure out ways in which we can grow and improve because of the situation. The difficulty should inspire reflection, introspection and a return to God. In this way, we find sparks of good in the suffering and challenges, and for that, we thank the Lord. Expressing this gratitude and faith, even in the face of adversity, reinforces our calling to see the good in everything, illuminating our darkest nights with the enduring light of hope and trust.

As the sun sets on Friday night and darkness begins to descend, we recite Psalm 92, reminding us to see God in every situation and express our gratitude for both the blessings of the past and the hidden kindness of the present.

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

March 2, 2024

Diluting the Word of God

“And if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things which are written in this book.” (Revelation 22:19)

It is a very serious error to try to add some new revelation to God’s written Word, as many cults and false religions do. This is the warning of verse 18 (see also Deuteronomy 4:2; Proverbs 30:6).

It is even more dangerous, as shown in the above text (the third from the last verse of the Bible), to delete (or even dilute) any of the words of the Bible. Note that the warning emphasizes the words, not just the thoughts. The sad fact is that a great many liberal theologians, especially in the past hundred years or so, have been doing just that, thinking thereby to make Christianity more compatible with modern science and philosophy. But they are literally playing with fire—this same book had just warned that any whose names do not remain in the book of life will be “cast into the lake of fire” (Revelation 20:15). Tragically, many of the sections they seek to “take away” are the references to hell.

God has promised to guard His Word against any such deletions. “The words of the LORD are pure words:...Thou shalt keep them, O LORD, thou shalt preserve them from this generation for ever” (Psalm 12:6-7).

There are also many who would not try to take away any of the words from the text but who then dilute their intended meaning in order to attract unbelieving intellectuals. This also is dangerous. Peter warns against those who would “wrest,...scriptures, unto their own destruction” (2 Peter 3:16). We must never forget the words of the Bible are “pure words,” meaning just what they say. “All scripture is given by inspiration of God [God-breathed], and is profitable...” (2 Timothy 3:16). HMM

[existentialmagazine]

Review: TASH’s debut pop-metal release ‘When The Lights Cut Out’ makes a groundbreaking impact with storming instrumentals and deep lyrical wit

Debuting as a solo artist after her time in a band for the previous few years, the new hard-hitting up-comer TASH is here to unleash every ounce of her masterful talents now she’s riding solo with no limits or opinions other than her own. Sharing her first ever pop-metal single of this new endeavour, ‘When The Lights Cut Out’, TASH already seems to be making a groundbreaking impact with such a unapologetically bold release and we just can’t wait to see where it takes her.

Sending you into a false sense of security right from pressing play, ‘When The Lights Cut Out’ tries to lull you in with subdued guitar and static-y sounds but swiftly cuts it short, taking the power to the max as aggressive guitar strums and drum beats show you the track’s true untamed nature. Electric beats and pounding bass carry a depth in the first verses’ introduction, more stripped-back but clearly just leading the moody way for things to break back out, and it really isn’t long before they do. Absolutely smashing into a fierce chorus, explosive drums, shredding guitar and bass all coincide while TASH loudly sings atop it, powering through an utter wall of noise that you seriously won’t be able to get enough of. Constantly teetering between unnerving lows that seem to err the edge of a tense build or sudden switch-up, TASH knows how to hook you on every single second of ‘When The Lights Cut Out’ , leaving your adrenaline out of control and your feet firmly on the ground as you dance and head-bang along. TASH’s savage vocals really tie it all together though, from sulky lows that add a little bit of a creepy edge, to the more forward, angry half-spat chorus lines, ‘When The Lights Cut Out’ is a song with some serious multifaceted edges and it makes for a listening experience you’ll never be able to predict - or want to get off repeat.

Mystical and a little bit otherworldly, ‘When The Lights Cut Out’ thrives in a universe of its own, painting a picture of a planet that exists only in the dark. As this pitch-black setting blossoms in a sense of unease, TASH sings of this place where only ones true colours shine brightly in an existence otherwise devoid of light, no longer shielding those who have done wrong and instead placing the spotlight right on them at all times. Justifiably petty as we’d put it, TASH delivers lines like ‘no one’s gonna save you when the lights cut out’ that make it clear she means business, no longer afraid or ready to back down from someone who’s clearly done her wrong behind closed doors. Asking ‘are you afraid of the dark? you put on such a front, I don’t believe you’, TASH almost seems to elicit a sense of fear from those she targets her words towards as she re-finds her strength and stands her ground, seemingly mocking them and their false-confidence. Her lines are all harsh and hard-hitting, determined to empower those who find themselves listening and afraid to open up about someone unworthy of their continued silence, as well as sharing her own experiences and her healing through it to allow others to find their light at the end of the tunnel: ‘when it happened I did not understand the implication of what you’d planned.’ As TASH delivers upon a narrative rooted in more than just reality, ‘When The Lights Cut Out’ really shines in its more whimsical concepts, building upon her already powerful words and making them just that extra dose of original but always relatable.

Check out ‘When The Lights Cut Out’ for yourself here to not just get pumped up on adrenaline, but also find your motivation to not be afraid of speaking out and finding your peace.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[findjeffmangum]

3 Benefits Of Hiring A Professional Roofing Company

Your roof is an important element of your house. It is not just protecting the building itself, but also your family as well as all your belongings. Damaged roofs can lead to flooding and water damage, as also wall and ceiling collapses. In this regard, repairs or replacement of your roof must be considered very seriously. Although some people believe they can fix or replace a roof damaged by their own hands In this article, we will go over the advantages of hiring a roofing firm.

Expert Opinion

The problem you might encounter when working on roofing Calgary for yourself is knowing when to fix it and when to replace. Expert roofers are able to assess the situation and come to a conclusion that will benefit you most. It could cost you more to replace your roof than can be repaired. It is also possible to try to repair damage when it isn't needed.

High-Quality Materials

Selecting the appropriate materials can determine the success or failure of roofing Calgary your project. You won't have the resources to buy roofing materials if you do it yourself. On the other hand an experienced roofing company has access to an array of top-quality roofing materials and can determine what type of material is best for your roof. Not only do roofs safeguard your home, but they also enhance your home's overall look. In fact, a roof usually accounts for around 40% of the visible exterior of a house that is why it's a big element of the house's overall design. Professional roofing companies will help you find the right materials to make your house even more beautiful.

Lower Cost

Choosing to complete the roofing Calgary project on your own will require you to buy supplies and tools needed to finish the project correctly. This means that the price of the project can increase rapidly. If you must deal any difficulties during the process, your project cost will increase. However having an experienced roofing firm will enable you to spend less on supplies and won't need to purchase any equipment.

Hiring a roofing company will not only ensure the work is completed quickly and properly, but it will also save you the trouble of facing any unanticipated issues. It is not a risk to put yourself or your family members in danger by trying to tackle the job on your own. The professionals know how to complete the task safely. If you choose to hire a professional roofing company You can rest assured that your new roof will look stunning as well as keep your home protected.

Conclusion:

When you're deciding the most efficient method to finish your roof There are a few things you need to consider. Firstly, you will need to determine if you would like to work with a contractor or do the job yourself. After that, you'll need decide on the type of roofing work you'd like to complete. After that, it's important to consult with an experienced roofing company for an accurate estimate and ensure the project is completed correctly and securely.

Approved Roof

300-1550 5 St SW,

Calgary, AB T2R 1K3

587-713-0403

[anthonybialy]

Empathizing Sighs

A restaurant that’s actually famous wouldn’t need to bill itself as such.  Likewise, those who care about us the most repeat the claim suspiciously frequently.  Shaky stances are routinely presented as facts in this interpretive world.  There’s just as much harmonious prosperity generated as a result as one would expect.  Pretending to help fellow humans is just another fake item on the real checklist.

Being told just how much they care about others is the sole service provided by liberals.  It’s not quite as valuable as prosperity or security.  If feelings were outcomes, you’d be able to afford fuel for your vehicle and family.

Big talk is designed to distract from small achievements.  There isn’t evidence to show that active federal planning does anything but take from the useful, so nonstop insistence will have to suffice.  A lack of empathy defines those who claim to exhibit it, and dodging the harm they inflict makes it tough to sardonically rue their obliviousness.

Boasting infringes on training.  Those who think they're best at knowing what customers desire are naturally the worst.  Life’s endless ironies would be more amusing if those who brought them to us ever learned to quit.  Making a show of how much they care almost distracts from how they most certainly do not.

Very caring authority figures imposing solutions they presume will be incredible are unable to imagine how others feel.  A wholesale inability to trust anyone else stems from unearned certainty of knowing what’s best for all.

Not giving a rat’s keister what others want is particularly ironic for those who want to communalize everything.  The policies of screwing over others are to be shared by all.  We truly are all in this together.

Refusing to acknowledge the existence of individuals is a sign of respect for the collective.  Don’t you want to be cool?  Peer pressure through mandates is one way to create popularity.  The perpetually useless are only capable of creating psychological projection.  Condemning those who desire pursuing their own interests enforces conformity in the worst way.  Contemporary America is like high school where obnoxious jerks with rich parents invite each other to parties via executive order.

Constant suspicions will surely inspire.  Figuring business titans are just out to enrich each other before stripping a company of all its assets and copper wire leads to taxing the stuffing out of them.

Presuming the best way to make money is not by staying open to offer products shows who’s never run a company.  And limiting guns because they figure everyone else is consumed by sputtering rage shows just how much compassion they contain.  Their 30-round magazines are loaded to capacity.

Meanwhile, government has to support the arts and charities because they'd never think to send funds from their own PayPal accounts.  The inability to imagine that others are not also miserable connivers is yet another personal limit those deeply into reaching out impose everywhere.

Reality must be reflected in pretend time.  Actors can no longer play different people.  That sort of reduces the challenge.  Oscars will still be awarded despite the fact that playtime participants are not allowed to be different from those portrayed.

Letting woke social media shriekers serve as casting directors will undoubtedly spur beautiful art.  You’re hateful if you hate films based around the theme of ironic intolerance.

You can’t understand what children need unless you’re presently reading this at a child’s soccer game you’re feigning watching.   Announcing your opinion fails to count if you don't have kids presumes those without progeny couldn't imagine what it's like to have whippersnappers running around.  One might think all that children’s programming dedicated to pushing the virtues of imagination would connect with overprotective parents.

Even kids know you can worry about others even without a personal connection.  Clueless overprotective liberal parents who are much less calm than their children insist the Constitution’s fans obviously don’t care about keeping schools safe.  Meanwhile, gun-free zones ensure only predators are armed.  You’ll never guess who’s actually creating danger.  Even those who prefer the quiet and disposable income of a child-free life could be dedicated to finding ways to protecting the brats of others.

Inadvertently flaunting their own inability to care about anything that doesn't affect them personally is just another consequence everyone outside of pushy liberals themselves lamentably knew was forthcoming.  An intrinsic lack of understanding motivation infects politics, fiction, and human interaction.  Everyone has their own interests and understandings, which sadly needs to be said in a world where using judgment to figure out how to profit and address needs is treated with suspicion and derision.

Understanding what others understand shouldn’t be that challenging.  Genuine respect for different outlooks is missing from those who declare themselves openminded.  It’s like science where professing adherence compensates for ironic ignorance.  Liberals who don’t tolerate dissent claim it’s because everyone who disagrees with them is intolerant, which sure is convenient.

You’ll never guess who should in fact be ashamed.  Allegedly progressive policies regressively spread poverty, crime, and like they're goals.  If tremendous sadness is not what perpetrators set out to inflict, then they’re even less accomplished than imagined.