#Every chance I get ive been reading this book

[deadlandsqueen]

Ive been reading The Epic Crush of Genie Lo and im actually upset this isn't a movie. It's so funny and with the right animation it would be so fucking great. I want animation, no live action for this. It's too expressive in my head. I cant rn, but dont be surprise if I do a storyboard of just the opening. *shakes book intensely*

[hopefulqueer]

I'm starting to think the reason I'm not as good of a writer as I want to be is because I like writing more than I like reading.

[reidsmanuscript]

Seven Seconds

Summary: when Katie Jacob's gets abducted in a Mall, setting the clock for the BAU, who needs a legal favor, and it's been a year since the A.D.A. has know anything about Spencer Reid. Pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!reader Genre: pinning, SLOW BURN, maybe right moment?, angst bc i love angst wc: 4.6k! (i know so small comparing to part 1 bear with me) TW: cm canon typical violence, set in 05x3 "Seven seconds" (obviously lol), sexual violence, implied reader's dark past, glimpses of female rage. A/N: my idea for the serie is be taylor jenkins reid and have you question if lawyer reader exists or not (delusional bitch), english is not my first language and let's pretend it's proofread part I - part II - part III - part IV - masterlist

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Spencer sat on the park bench reading a book while playing chess with Ethan, brilliant kid for his age and good opponent, not good enough though because when he cheered “I see checkmate in 5, What do you see?” It took Spencer one glance to calculate all the movements necessary.

“I see it in 3” he answered looking at his book again, the kid turned around the board and moved the pieces

“We've missed you out here” he said, staring at the board amazed.

“Thanks. I, uh, I had to take a little break”

“How come?” His hands froze on the book for a second before closing it.

Spencer had been clean for over a year now, it was 14 months and 2 weeks ago that he had freaked out after noticing his stash of Dialud was gone along with his needle. Where could he find more? Who knew about his addiction? Where was his stash? Who the fuck is Dr. Fitzgerald? Did you report him?

His first instinct was confronting you, given that you were the only person who found out his drugs that he knew, the first days he was a complete paranoid, he jumped every time Hotch called his name, or that Gideon looked at him a little too long.

At the end of the week he was thinking where he could find more, and when that thought scared him, he called the number of the card you had left in the same pocket his drugs used to be.

“Hello this is Dr. Fitzgerald” said a calm voice, it was 10 p.m. so there was a higher chance of going to voicemail, but he got an answer and the tremor of his hands got a little worse. Was it the anxiety or the withdrawal?

“Umm hello.. this is.. Dr.. this is Spencer Reid and someon-""I've been waiting for your call Dr Reid” the other line interrupted, he froze for a second.

“I used to play with a co-worker friend of mine. He's probably the best mind I ever went up against. One day, he just decided that he didn't want to play anymore.”

Fast forward, she helped him get clean and stay clean after Gideon left, getting tested regularly, and gave him the contact of the help group of FBI addicts. He was better, he was alive.

“So you gave up, too?”

“Just the opposite. I attempted to play Through every permutation of moves on a chessboard.”

“That's an infinite number of games.”

“It's not infinite. It's just- it's exponentially large.”

“You couldn't have played through them all.”

“There's an average of 40 moves per chess game, And I'll tell you something– the more I played, The more I realized that every single match every single chess game, Is really just a simple variation on the exact same theme. You know? It's aggressive opening, Patient mid-game, inevitable checkmate, And I realized why my friend quit. He was tired of repeating the same patterns And expecting a different outcome.”

“That's because you haven't come up on Fridays or Mondays in a while” the way his eyebrows went up along his voice tone made him feel like he knew something that he didn't.

His eyebrows furrowed “What do you mean?”

“There's this great player who comes around those days, she even brings the best pastries, and her games is similar to yours, always two or three moves ahead, she always beats everyone here… i think her boyfriend called her Buzz or something like that, like the Toy Story character”

“Buzz?… i don't really remember anyone with that nickname”

“It’s probably not that one but you don't know her because she started coming like 8 months ago.. I'm sure you have a lifetime of chess strategy in your head that you're just sitting on, but when you meet her?” He made a dramatic pause “You'll have to play it.”

He glances at his watch to realize his 15 minute break is coming to an end. “I still use it. I just, uh... I apply it differently. I have to go. It's good seeing you.”

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That evening, the BAU was called in for a local case—a little girl, Katie, had been kidnapped from a busy mall. A week earlier, another girl had been taken from the same location and found dead hours later. Now, they were all racing against the clock.

Katie’s parents were desperate. As any parents would be in this situation, right? But when Hotch asked the father if either of them was having an affair—a routine question in abductions—the man took offense. Deep offense. So much so that he refused to let the FBI search their house.

Now, what kind of parent refuses to help the police find their missing child?

In a small surveillance room, Morgan and Reid sat with Garcia, who was visibly frustrated by the mall’s ancient security system. They were surrounded by screens displaying grainy footage from different angles—well, almost every angle. They had a single glimpse of Katie in one video, and then, seven seconds later, she was gone.

JJ and Prentiss were with the mother, aunt, and uncle, trying to get a read on the family dynamic. Meanwhile, Morgan and Reid had conducted a cognitive interview with Katie’s cousin. It had led nowhere.

“The family has refused permission to search the house,” Hotch announced as he stepped into the room.

“What do you mean they denied?” Morgan’s frustration was evident. “Your only child goes missing, and you refuse to collaborate?”

No one disagreed. They were all thinking the same thing.

“The cousin didn’t say much,” Reid added. “He was too distracted in the game room to notice anything.”

Hotch exhaled sharply. “I’ll speak to the detectives, see if we can get a warrant.” His tone was firm, but they all knew time wasn’t on their side.

Garcia adjusted her glasses. “Sir, I mean this in the best way possible, but it’s almost 8 p.m. I don’t think-”

“I’ll handle it,” Morgan interrupted.

All Reid and Garcia turned to him with identical looks. What do you mean you will handle it?

Hotch’s eyebrows furrowed, but after a moment, he gave a small nod and walked away. Morgan was already pulling out his phone.

“I have a contact,” he explained, dialing.

He put the phone on speaker. It rang once. Twice. On the third ring, a voice answered—sharp, direct, and all business.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

Reid went rigid.

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It was late in the office; most people had already gone home, including your assistant Molly. All but Austin, who was still there because he had a lead on one of your cases. You knew he was still hanging around because, over a year ago, when someone had snuck into your office to harm you, you’d become a little paranoid. You’d gotten better, but Austin insisted on keeping you company, especially since your car was in the mechanic’s.

You were reviewing a legal brief, pen in hand, skimming the margins to jot down notes when the desk phone rang. Without looking up, you hit the speaker button with the tip of the pen.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

There was a beat of silence before a familiar voice cut in—smooth, direct, urgent.

Morgan called your name “Hey. We need a warrant. Fast.” You blinked, setting the pen down.

Reid and Garcia exchanged glances as Morgan jumped in without hesitation.

“Katie Jacobs. Eight years old. Abducted from a mall earlier tonight,” Morgan started, all business. “Another girl was taken from the same place a week ago—she was found dead hours later. We’re working against the clock.”

You frowned, swirling the pen, going through the multiple scenarios. You had heard about last week’s case, and how slow the police had moved back then.

“We’ve got mall surveillance footage,” Morgan pressed. “At first, we thought she just vanished, but Garcia finally pulled something from one of the side corridors. Katie wasn’t taken by force—she was walking calmly with someone.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around her pen. “Someone she knows.”

“Exactly,” Morgan confirmed. “That narrows it down to family or close acquaintances.” They all shared a silent thought. Family.

We know they’re hiding something,” Morgan corrected. “We just don’t have the probable cause to kick the door down.”

Garcia watched as Morgan paced slightly, his tone firm but urgent.

“That’s thin, Morgan,” Your voice came through the speaker, steady and unyielding.

“We don’t have time for airtight,” Morgan countered.

Your jaw tightened. “You don’t have time for me to get laughed out of a judge’s office, either. Refusing a search isn’t a crime, and suspicion alone doesn’t cut it. I need more.” You understood where the suspicious came from, how are you supposed to help them if they had nothing?

There was a pause. A beat of silence. Then, another voice—one you hadn’t heard in over a year.

“99% of abducted children who are killed due within the first 24 hours” He cleared his throat, willing his voice to stay even. Spencer Reid. “75% within the first 3 hours, and what only law enforcement knows is Jessica Davis joined the 44% of children who are abducted and killed within the first hour. We’re already past the three-hour mark. If we don’t act now, statistically speaking—”

“The likelihood of recovery drops exponentially,” You sighed, already standing up, ignoring how his voice sounded. So different. So… clean.

Your gaze flicked to the clock. 8:06 p.m. Damn it.

You grabbed a blank warrant form from her drawer and reached for a pen. “Send me the address and everything else you have. Give me 20 minutes.”

Click. You didn’t have time for goodbyes.

Austin raised an eyebrow from his seat. “Guess you’re not going home anytime soon.”

You didn’t look up as you started writing. “I never was.”

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The courthouse was mostly deserted at this hour. The fluorescent lights hummed quietly, and the stillness of the evening was only interrupted by the sharp click of your heels on the polished floors followed by Austin’s boots toward the judge’s chambers.

“You sure you don’t want me to take this one? Sweet-talk her maybe?” he teased.

You shot him a look. “You think Judge Holloway is the type to be charmed? Plus, you’re a private investigator, not a lawyer.”  

“She’s not gonna like you showing up this late.”  

You didn’t miss a beat. “If she’s still up, she’ll make time for this.”  

Taking a steadying breath as you stopped in front of the door, you quickly ran through your notes, making sure you had every detail in order. Then, without hesitation, you pushed through the heavy wooden doors of Judge Evelyn Holloway’s chambers.  

Inside, the judge barely glanced up from her paperwork. “You have two minutes, Woodvale.”

Stepping forward, you set the warrant request on the desk. “Your Honor, I apologize for the late hour, but we have a child abduction case we’re working against the clock. A young girl, Katie Jacobs, was taken from a mall over three hours ago. We’ve obtained surveillance footage showing her walking with an individual—someone she likely knows. We believe the family is withholding information, and they’ve refused to allow us to search the residence.”

The judge narrowed his eyes, folding her hands on the desk. “And what do you propose I do about it? What evidence do you have to warrant a search?”

You kept your voice steady. “We have footage of the girl with someone who wasn’t a stranger, Your Honor. The parents are refusing cooperation, and the father was evasive when asked about possible affairs, which raises red flags about his involvement.”

Holloway sighed, leaning back in her chair. “That’s thin.” You were ready for that.

“I have the full footage from the mall security, including a timestamp showing the precise time the girl went missing. She is last seen walking calmly with someone she knows, most likely family.”

There was a brief pause, and for a second, you thought you were about to lose her. So you pulled Reid’s words from memory, adjusting them just enough to make them your own.

“Time is working against us. Statistics show that 99% of abducted children who are murdered lose their lives within the first 24 hours 75% within just the first three. And only law enforcement-”

She cut you off with a raised hand, signaling you to stop.

The judge exhaled through her nose, it was late and you were rambling about statistics and you knew she wanted you out as soon as possible when you started citing numbers. So pushing himself out of her chair with a slight groan. “Fine. Get me the paperwork. I’ll sign it—but you better have your ducks in a row.”

You nodded, her demeanor unflinching. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the hours ahead of you. But you were used to this—fighting against the clock.

“Let’s move,” motioning to Austin. He gave you a small nod. “You got it.”

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Exactly 15 minutes after the call, 5 minutes earlier than promised, Morgan’s phone rang. He answered it without even looking. 

"You got your warrant. I'll meet you there," Alex’s voice came through, crisp and businesslike, just as expected.

Morgan exhaled, his relief barely hidden. "Thank you, Woody."

He paused for a moment before adding, "I owe you one," then hung up, turning to Reid.

“Tell Hotch we’re heading to the Jacobs’ house,” he instructed, already moving toward the door.

Spencer had been timing her. It wasn’t the first time he'd gotten caught up in the tense waiting game of law and order, but the pressure of it had a different weight today. The memory of your voice, clear and resolute, echoed in his mind, sharper than before.

For Reid, part of getting clean wasn't just the physical withdrawal—it was the emotional weight of confronting his mistakes. The memory of how he'd lashed out at you a year ago still haunted him. How could he have been so cruel? The hurt in your eyes, the way he dismissed you, the way it all spiraled… it wasn’t just the drugs that had made him say those things. And the fury he saw when you looked at him, Dialuid in hand, how you looked like a timing bomb when he was trying to see if he could talk to you, the tension in your shoulders, the lock in your jaw, the grip on the file. He’d been battling so much more since then, in his mind, you saved his life by doing what he couldn't do.

He’d rather die than relive that moment again, than say those things. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of another chaotic case, still carrying that guilt with him. He stayed behind Morgan for just a beat before pushing down his feelings and moving quickly. 

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The engine of Austin's bike rumbled to a stop as they pulled up in front of the house, where Morgan and Reid were standing in front of the black SUV. You slid off the back with practiced ease, taking off the helmet and letting your hair fall loose.

Austin followed your lead, taking his helmet off with a groan. “So, what exactly are we looking for?”

You shot him a quick, sidelong glance, handing him the helmet, keeping your expression flat knowing he’s about to be a drama queen. “You’re not coming inside. The warrant’s for FBI and police only. Not P.I.s included”

Austin paused, a mock pout crossing his face. “Excuse me? I just got you here, through all that traffic, risking myself to get a speeding ticket and now I don’t get to search? This is the second time in the night that you P.I. shaming me. Do you hate me?”

“If I hated you I wouldn’t have bailed your ass out of jail… twice” you remark the last part. He had a talent for sticking his foot where he shouldn’t be, maybe that’s what makes him good at his job.

“You act like you wouldn’t do it a third time” he was mocking, but he was right, something you would never admit to him. 

You start walking to the house “Mhm.” you hum rolling your eyes, heading towards where Morgan and Reid were. 

You didn't expect him to be there, or maybe you did, maybe you wanted to see him and know what had happened to him since the last time you saw him. They were looking at you, Morgan with a curious already-profiling-you stare, while Reid expression was more… cautious. He looked so different, his cheekbones were prominent in an attractive way and not sickly, he had put on some healthy weight and was not fidgety. You were not mad anymore, because of course at the moment the hurt had turned into rage like it always does for you, but it was more because of phantoms than anything else. 

“Got your golden ticket” you said, avoiding Reid’s gaze as you pulled the warrant from the inner pocket of your gray coat and swung it toward them.

Morgan nodded “You staying?” He gestured with his head to Austin who was leaving.

“I have to make sure you find something, otherwise the judge will have my head for this,” you said dryly, shrugging as though the threat didn’t bother you, but there was a flicker of seriousness behind your words. You were only talking to him, which felt rude because Reid’s stare was locked in your profile. 

Reid was thinking how pretty you looked, how the black vest suited you, and he couldn’t ignore the fact you had changed your brown bag to a black one that looked nothing like his. Your white shirt and gray coat gave you an older, wiser look, but as Reid analyzed your features, he realized he didn’t even know how old you were. You couldn’t be older than him. Serious, sharp, and young... How was it possible for someone that young to be the A.D.A.?

Reid’s mind couldn’t let go of the numbers. The average age of an Assistant District Attorney in the U.S. is 36. You couldn’t be older than 25, and yet you were already in that position.

You glanced at him for a moment before stepping inside the house, feeling the weight of his stare. The look made him snap out of his trance-like state, and of course, his eidetic memory hated him, because for that brief second, he remembered how you had looked at him a year ago.

Morgan nodded and thanked you again before he and Reid walked into the house. You left the warrant on the hall table with a deliberate touch, your fingers lingering for just a moment—as if to remind yourself that you weren’t entirely done with this.

“Somebody lit a fire last night,” you heard Reid say.

“Well, there are dirty dishes for three in the kitchen, so they eat together as a family.” Morgan’s voice carried from the other room as they moved through the house, taking in the details.

If Katie was in danger, the signs wouldn’t be in plain sight. You had to look where they hid—where children kept their secrets. Their bedrooms.

“Hey, my favorite movie from when I was a kid.” Reid held up a DVD, turning it in his hands before pulling it from the player just as you passed by him, tugging on latex gloves before heading upstairs, you did feel a little guilty for not even looking or talking to him, but it was something you did unconsciously. 

“So they watch movies together, too,” Morgan mused. They were starting to build a picture of the family’s dynamic.

“By a fireplace in a house that’s straight out of a catalog,” Reid added. “Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted this any cozier.”

“That’s what worries me.” There was weight in Morgan’s voice. A tension that sat between them.

Upstairs, you searched through the rooms with careful precision.

When you first became a lawyer, you made a promise—never ignore a sign. Since then, you have gone further. You didn’t just refuse to ignore them; you searched for them. Hollow eyes. Unexplained bruises. Small bloodstains. You looked for them in teenagers, in young adults, in the elderly. But nothing—nothing—was more painful than a child who couldn’t speak up.

Because they were small. Because someone older, someone stronger, was hurting them. There's nothing more hurtful than not being able to speak out, to say something and stand up for yourself. Except when someone did—someone saw the bruises, the fear, the signs—and they looked away deliberately. Because a child’s pain was inconvenient. Because it came with a mountain of paperwork no one wanted to touch.

You had spent your whole life making sure you never looked away.

That’s why you were hunched over the small desk in Katie’s bedroom, flipping through her drawings when Morgan and Reid entered the room. They started searching, their movements efficient and methodical.

“Katie’s been wetting her bed,” Reid said as he lifted the duvet, inspecting the mattress beneath it.

“A lot of six-year-olds do. Could be bad dreams,” Morgan replied, crouching beside you as he sifted through a pile of toys.

You considered that possibility—it was perfectly logical. In a perfect world.

“Some kids won’t get up at night because they’re afraid of the dark,” Reid added, his tone careful. Almost knowing.

“Or it could be a lot more complex than that.”

Morgan had found a doll. Not a Barbie missing a shoe or one that had simply been played with too much. No—this doll was different.

Its hair had been hacked off, jagged strands sticking out unevenly. Red marker smeared across its face like smeared blood. Its clothes were yanked askew, twisted, and wrong.

“Most girls covet their dolls like an extension of themselves.” He took the doll in his hands like it was made of fine glass. 

“Reid, I know these signs-— acting out on her toys, wetting the bed. She's obviously covering up something about that necklace.”

“And her cousin might be holding something back.”

“Well, this looks more like a man than a boy to me,” you said, holding up a drawing of a tall, shadowy figure towering over a small, crying child.

Morgan took it from your hands, his expression hardening as he analyzed the image.

“Psychology says drawing is a child’s way of channeling their inner world. Look at the strokes—how harsh they are,” you pointed to the dark, jagged lines forming the tall figure, then traced your finger over the smaller one. “And this looks like Katie to me. She forgot to draw the hands, which means she feels powerless… helpless.” 

Morgan took his phone out, dialing up “Hotch, we think Katie’s being molested,” Morgan said, his voice clipped. “And we both know the odds.”

A brief silence. Then Hotch’s response, firm and certain. “Most likely by someone under the same roof.”

He hung up, and both men started toward the door, their movements brisk with purpose. But you stayed behind for a moment, rooted in place, taking in the scene. Trying to quiet the distant sirens that echoed in your mind, the same ones always shouting when you were face to face with these situations. A loud pause—maybe out of respect for Katie and her pain, for everything she had been forced to endure.

From the doorway, Spencer glanced back. The dim light from the hallway cast your figure in stark contrast, outlining you in shadow—your form dark against the soft glow of the room. He couldn’t see your expression, couldn’t read your face. He focused on the way your hands curled into fists at your sides, the tight set of your shoulders.

And he wished—just for a second—that he could see more.

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You stood outside, leaning against the wall, arms crossed tightly over your chest. By your side were Morgan, Jeremy, Katie’s cousin, and Reid.

Turns out, Katie’s uncle, Richard, was her abuser. A disgusting son of a bitch who deserved to rot in hell. And you were going to make sure he did. He had destroyed Katie’s childhood, probably more than just hers, shattering an entire family in the process. His own son, standing right next to you, was collateral damage he clearly hadn’t spared a thought for. And then there was his wife. The woman who had chosen to look away. Who had taken Katie and nearly gotten her killed, all for the pathetic, desperate hope that it would somehow stop her husband from creeping into little bedrooms at night. She deserved the same hell he did.

A stretcher rolled past, Katie’s small frame barely visible beneath the blankets as the paramedics guided her into the ambulance. Her mother clutched her tiny hand, whispering something—words meant to soothe, to promise safety.

A young voice cut through the air. “I heard her call my mom’s name. That’s what I remembered before.”

You closed your eyes, your mind already racing ahead. Your attorney brain was piecing it together, sketching out the battle that was coming. If the kid had heard it, that made him a witness to the abduction. His own mother had committed the crime against her niece. And God only knew what else he had seen—what else had been happening in that house—without fully understanding it.

“We get it, kid. That’s your mom,” Morgan said, his voice steady. But you knew the truth: if Jeremy could barely say those words to them, getting him to the stand in front of a jury would be another fight entirely.

The boy shifted on his feet, staring at the ambulance. “What’s gonna happen to me now?”

If God existed, He had already been too cruel. He had let all of this happen. And you knew how these things worked—knew there was a very real chance that Katie’s parents, burdened with their own grief, would resent Jeremy by association. That they wouldn’t take him in. That he would be swallowed by the foster system.

You wouldn’t let that happen.

The sirens blared outside the mall, cutting through the air with urgency, but it was the ones inside your mind that were louder—screaming in the same rhythm, as if they were one and the same. Distant and deafening, they filled every corner of your head, drowning out everything but the grim reality unfolding before you.

“I don’t know, Jeremy,” Reid answered, his voice gentle. “But we’re gonna make sure you’re alright, okay?”

Jeremy didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the ambulance. “Is Katie gonna be all right?”

You wished—desperately, violently—that you could tell him yes. That you could say it with certainty and make it true. But how could you give him something you didn’t have?

“She will, eventually,” Morgan said, his voice firm.

You exhaled sharply. The words made your skin crawl.

“Is she?” The question slipped from your lips before you could stop it—low, bitter, nearly spat out under your breath. Just quiet enough that the kid wouldn’t hear. Just loud enough that Morgan did.

Before he could respond, you were already moving.

Your feet carried you toward the police car, toward the sick, selfish bastard they were shoving into the backseat. Your hand shot out, slamming the door closed—harder than necessary, just enough that it cracked against Richard’s face.

Morgan watched. So did Spencer.

And for the first time, he realized just how much of a puzzle you really were.

Partially because, throughout all of this, you hadn’t looked at him once. Not when he entered the room, not when he spoke, not even now, standing just a few feet away.

Partially because your eyes, when he finally caught a glimpse of them, were full of something he rarely saw outside of a case like this. Pure, undiluted rage.

Not just anger. Not just frustration. Something deeper. Something personal.

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part III　 Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3

[yanderefarm]

Hihiii

Nephite when an other follower/ omega tryed to get with us?

yandere omega cultist nephite

cw;; religion, cults, omegaverse, violence

nephite is the least physically violent of the ocs ive posted so far but that doesn't take away from how scary he can be. he's so loyal to the church he has a lot of power for an omega.

y/n: do you know what happened to him?

nephite: he received divine punishment ^.^

y/n: right. i forgot you're crazy again.

nephite can't even breathe when he sees one of the slightly younger omegas flirting with you at a potluck. you're completely unreceptive to the advances of course. but he can't help but hear these words in his ears.

"alphas always prefer young omegas"

right now you were ignoring this harlot but for how long? how long before he became old and undesirable? nephite chewed his thumb nail until he broke the skin, only actually stopping because his mother pulled his hand away. she scolded him gently as she cleaned up his booboo but he couldn't look at her, he couldn't hear her. his sister noticed and teased him a little for getting so worked up over a random omega.

they were right. it was silly. he stuffed it down but he still spent the whole night attached to your hip.

it was fine.

but that omega didn't stop. if you left the house that omega would come find you and immediately start talking to you. his hands would press against your chest, his arms would wrap around one of your own, he would lean his body into you every chance he got. nephite's usually bright eyes would go dead the moment he saw the younger omega. what was he supposed to say? that filth never did it when he was right next to you, always waiting for you to be alone. and its not like it got more suggestive than just flirting. but it was driving nephite insane.

one day nephite was holding a sacred texts study group for omegas at your home. he had been so excited to be the host for this meeting, he spent the whole day making snacks for it! only to find, to his horror, that omega also arrived. you had decided to stay out of the living room while his group was going on but that just meant that horrible harlot could really get you alone! nephite had tried so hard to watch him like a hawk but he'd also gotten too into the discussion with the others. he never even realized when that omega disappeared from the group.

after everyone left he headed to your shared bedroom, excited to tell you about how it went. his hands pressed the door and his eyes immediately went dead. you were sitting on the bed with that omega, just talking. you had been showing him a book you'd been reading recently. his hand was on your knee. his shirt was unbuttoned. nephite felt dizzy, delirious with all the dark emotions bubbling in his stomach. he thought about killing that harlot right here, cutting off the filthy hands that dared to touch you.

you snapped him out of it, asking if group was over and then saying that harlot should leave. you escorted him to the door like a real gentleman. you asked him what was bothering him, if his group had gone poorly. nephite had practically tackled you into the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in your chest. he cried well into the night about all his insecurities and worries about you leaving him. and with every tear there was your reassuring hand in his hair, soothing him gently.

but that wasn't enough. the next day he went to confession with a pair of his frilly underwear stuffed in his pocket. he told the pastor the truth. mostly. he exaggerated the amount of adultery that harlot had really done so far. the pastor seemed to know he was being lied to but he trusted that nephite would only be bringing someone to his attention if they were a filthy sinner. the frilly underwear were icing on the cake. he told the pastor that he found them in the sinner's home along with a plan to seduce you.

they made a big show of dragging that sinner through the compound. wherever he was going he would never be coming back from. he caught nephite's eyes as he was dragged crying and screaming through the street. nephite held your arm tighter a wicked smile on his face just long enough for that foolish sinner to catch.

[ifyoucandaniel]

I want to thank you for making your list of recommended long batfam fics. I have been making my way through it and I am really enjoying them! ESPECIALLY cards on the table (I also love Dark Matter but I had already read it). Please let us know if you ever get more long batfam fic recs 🥺

okay so ive been waiting to answer this until i had gathered a good chunk of new long fics and ive been getting a lot of similar messages asking for recommendations, so here is another list of my fav long batman fics!

Jason and the Three Terrors by @cdelphiki, 220k, ongoing, T. if i can get you to read one thing, let it be this. ohhh my god where to even begin, this is a fic where jason stays with the league after his dip in the lazarus pit for a little while and winds up being charged with getting damian, his cousin, and his sister out of the league safely. this fic is just so fucking good, cdelphiki always writes such seamless relationship growth and watching jason go from "im dropping these brats off first chance i get" to "im a single mother of three and i need to provide for my kids" is phenomenal. 1000/10, the writing, the kids, the relationships, please do yourself a favor and read this.

A Collision of Masks by Movaz, 169k, completed, T. !! guys. this is such a good dick grayson-centric fic. this is set in an AU where batman never joined the justice league so the justice league knows very little about batman inc. and consequently dick never joins YJ so the YJ team is tasked with checking out a new hero called nightwing in bludhaven and police officer grayson is tasked with helping the team in their investigation :) really good fic exploring dick juggling all his identities and finally gaining people he can rely on! i actually did a bind of it so you know i love this story so much

Life Happens by @cdelphiki, 176k, complete, G. ok so this fic is probably one of the most beautiful stories of growth and love i've read. its about tim and damian being transported from their world into ours where they're only comic book characters and they start to build a life for themselves here. cdelphiki is one of the most amazing authors, im currently going through all of their works, but this one has just stayed with me and i dont think anyone should pass it up. watching tim and damian grow together and seeing damian have a real childhood and just the whole concept of life happening wether you want it to or not is so beautifully done. cannot recommend enough.

Honoring Promises by LananiA3O, completed, 14k, T. okay this isnt actually a long fic, but its one of my favorite fics ever and i need it on this list. if you're like me and you love UTRH aus where instead of sticking around as red hood after bruce threw a batarang at his throat jason fucks off and disappears to live a normal life, this is for you. from dick's pov, he realizes jasons last letter was a last attempt at reaching out and stalks him until he finds out what really happened to his little brother. i think about this every day and wish it was 10000 words long

The Time Before by @cdelphiki, 80k, completed, G. at this point this is basically just a cdelphiki fic rec lmao when i said everything by them was good, i meant that shit. this is a fic where jason is sent back into time when he was 9 years old but still has all his memories from the future. he goes to bruce for help despite wanting to do literally anything else and is surprised to realize maybe everything isn't how he remembers it 10 years in the future and maybe theres a chance he can go home when hes older again. once again cdelphiki hitting me in the feels with this one, really amazing study on how time and pain can change how you perceive and remember things and also just forgiveness and fixing mistakes and accepting mistakes were made. very good, highly recommend

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors by Sophene, 80k, completed, batlantern, T. I have no excuse for this, this is such a fun and funny fic i love it so much. basically HOA president single dad bruce with his 10 million adopted kids and then hal jordan moves in next door and plays his music too loud at 10pm on a school night and throws parties and bruce has a stick up his ass about it. i really really love the shift in hal when kyle comes to live with him as his ward (? i cant actually remember if hes adopted or just a ward) and seeing him finally understand why bruce acts the way he does when it comes to his kids. also seeing bruce just being a tired dad 90% of the fic when he isnt glaring at hal is so good.

Option C by CasualGeek, 78k, completed, T. this has, in my opinion, a very unique and interesting premise. basically, what if instead of becoming red hood, jason comes back to gotham and manages to get Joker put on trial for the murder of sheila haywood and get the insanity plea thrown out. really interesting approach to batman and joker and jason technically doing things through the legal justice system and what that means for him and the people around him. very good, read it all in one sitting

butcherbird, fly away home by e_va, 41k, completed, M. lost days jason todd loml! basically what if when jason was off on his world tour one of his tutors kidnapped bruce wayne and jason has feelings about it against his will. "what if lost days jason was stuck in the same room as a sick bruce for more than 10 minutes and actually had to talk to him without punching him" AU and i throughly enjoyed it. @darlingatlas recommended this one and she never misses with the jason recs

this kind of weather by r_astra, 55k, completed, T. this is the fic something in the static was originally inspired by and if you know me, i love that series, and i love this fic too. another what if jasons mom didnt die until later and social services gets involved before he can bolt and bruce seeks him out with some very interesting news. i love fics that display jason’s relationship with crime alley and him being one of them. very good, i love jason so much

ok now these aren't actually long fics but i need to get them out here because i love them so much and highly recommend!

To My Brother by a_silly_gander, 7k, completed, T. Lost days jason au where he starts sending post cards from his travels to dick on a whim while we follow his time away and the people he meets. i love this one so much, please read it if you love jason and dick, its so special to me.

Enhanced Fashion Sense is a Perk of Being a Cat by 12pt_timesnewromanfont, 23k, complete, G. selina breaks into drake manor to steal a cat artifact and accidentally meets the drakes ten year old son they left home alone. then she starts keeping tabs on him and eventually adopts him and makes him stray. i really love selina finding tim before bruce and taking care of him <3 10/10 i wish selina would adopt me

[sarahreesbrennan]

Thank you for writing Long Live Evil.

I'm no cancer survivor, so I haven't been through the horror that that must've been, congratulations to enduring and surviving, and my sincere condolences that you had to go through it.

But I am chronically ill (cystic fibrosis, genetic defect) and have so far lived for 5 years longer than my prognosis allowed. My health's been good and stabile for a long time now, but I remember times where I couldn't walk alone, had a 18/6 nasal cannula and a 24-hour IV drip instead of school or a future.

Now I'm working at university, an archaeologist, chipping away at writing stories for years and years, and incredibly glad and privileged to see the world. All this to say that seeing how hurt Rae was in the beginning (and again throughout the story, while also never truly forgetting her true roots and motives) and how she grew around it like a gnarled tree, was like catharsis for me. Having miraculously given a second chance, no matter how hard the fight to keep it will be; I haven't ever read any story talking about this in a way that made me feel seen and understood like this. Thank you also lots and lots for taking the time to mention Rae's appreciation for Rahela's curves — it's been the same for me, since I've managed to get out of the underweight-trap. It means a lot to me, and I guess to many others in similar situations, including you of course. Thank you for sharing this with us, it must've been hard to touch on a deeply personal experience like this in writing that's simultaneously removed from oneself through fiction (at least that's what I'm imagining).

Thank you, and I wish you nothing but the best, health, and lots of good days to come. Deeply curious to see how Rae's story will continue!

Thank you so much for this.

I am so glad you are alive. Thank you for that, too - for living on even when you couldn’t see a way forward and everything was helpless despair.

I haven’t been through what you’ve been through, either, but it’s a privilege to have shared adjoining experiences trapped in darkness, and to share gladness and the wide world with you now. I’m so sorry it happened, and so happy you have archaeology and stories, and the world has you.

I will be totally honest and say it has been hard sharing Long Live Evil with the world, and I’m so grateful to you for knowing that, and for sending this message because you knew. This book is highly personal to me, but it’s also meant to be a wild celebration of messiness, escapism, and finding humour in art and darkness. And that means to some it’s just a joke, and in the words of Joanna Russ, ‘she’s not really an artist and it’s not really art.’ And so it gets dismissed, and it does hurt to see my most important story dismissed sometimes.

I was with other writers in a public space at one point and they were talking about how their books were about serious issues while ‘Sarah’s book is just for fun, and that’s fine too!’ (I had to take a minute before I could lean into my microphone and say ‘My book is about cancer’ in a cheery tone.) I’ve seen readers saying ‘this book’s just fluff, just silly, I’m ashamed of myself for reading it, there’s nothing to it’ about the book I wrote about almost dying.

My Rae, while of course she has bits of me in her (every character I’ve ever written does), and evil queens I’ve loved, and characters with wild hubris going on in the Greek plays I mention often in the book, and readers I’ve seen and I’ve been who are blithely confident they know what’s going on without doing more than surface reading and while forgetting key details… she’s also bits of women and girls I’ve mentored, been mentored by, befriended. And some of them are dead. So seeing the bits that were them particularly scorned or judged, seeing her pain dismissed or the discussion of her body sneered at…

That has been hard.

But.

In the end I believe I am really an artist and this book is really art, and art is there for the wide world to judge - to be mocked and dismissed, yes, as a price that comes with the opportunity to also be truly seen and appreciated, to get to influence real people’s real lives. Art is the gold that comes from the crucible in which we put all our pain and all our love and all our joys. I believe it deepens and transforms.

I wrote this book about how deeply unsympathetic people actually are to sufferers of illness, chronic or otherwise, and especially to women expressing pain. How the world villainises imperfect victims—which means all victims. How the world villainises bodies, and robs us of our joy in them—even when there’s horror in a body, too. I did know that by putting this book out into this world, that attitude would be reflected back by the world onto the book. And that attitude has hurt me in the past, and hurts me when I see it now.

I still think it’s worth calling out that attitude, even if it means getting more of that attitude reflected back onto me - because it means readers like you see it, and know others have been through this, and it was never okay, and you were never alone. While I know there will also be readers with chronic illnesses and/or cancer whose experience doesn’t overlap with mine at all, that only means there need to be more stories. So everyone who needs it gets the map into fantasy lands.

And I do hope some able-bodied readers read it, and think twice about adopting the world’s attitude to the people in their lives who are already going through enough. Some readers have told me the book helped them sympathise with and understand the cancer sufferers in their family and friend circles, and that’s meant a great deal. What do we write for, if not to learn to love each other better?

Long Live Evil has also given me my life back, as truly as chemo did, in a way that makes the pain worthwhile - I think I would have kept telling stories in some form, but Long Live Evil was my last throw, for as far ahead as I could see. Now since the book’s done well so far I’m hoping I can write more books, and my life can be the storytelling shape I always wanted it to be.

I read your message and I regretted nothing. I remember the pain and the way so many of us laughed or tried to laugh our way through it, and I know this was my way. Jokes, like stories, are the golden thread we follow through the dark labyrinth of our own agony and incomprehension.

It really has been hard, and it’ll stay hard. But like living, it’s worth it.

Please know two things.

I am so happy I wrote this book. Ultimately more than any other feeling I had so, so much fun writing it, and I’m having even more fun seeing the book be read by the people it was meant for.

2. This book was written for you.

[wlntrsldler]

another fratboy! luke installment. percy comes to visit!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5 (final)

tagged poseidonsfavchild and lukecastell4n.

yn_yln: baby bro came to visit so we showed him around 🏙️

poseidonsfavchild: you did not buy a single book in that bookstore stop cappin for the gram

yn_yln: 😐 go home

poseidonsfavchild: yw for the last picture

poseidonsfavchild: i couldve lived the rest of my life without seeing yall like that tho

bethchase: dont listen to him. he talks about how cute u guys are when ur gone

liked by yn_yln and lukecastell4n.

lukecastell4n: HA I KNEW YOU LIKED US TOGETHER

poseidonsfavchild: i shouldve pushed u in the water and let u drown when i had the chance

gr0verunderwood: me and bethchase gotta go with him next time!!!

yn_yln: yes!! i miss my kiddos 🥹🩵

liked by bethchase.

clarisselarue: u and luke are sickeningly cute bye

silenabeauregard: RIGHT

poseidonsfavchild posted a story!

y’all lukecastell4n and chrisr0driguez live like rats wtf is this?

location: kappa sigma house at umm.

lukecastell4n replied to this story:

lukecastell4n: PERCY DELETE THIS

lukecastell4n: we haven’t cleaned yet :(

lukecastell4n: it doesn’t always look like this trust

lukecastell4n: we haven’t had chapter yet and we usually clean then

poseidonsfavchild: “it doesn’t always look like this trust” ive been here for three days and it’s looked like this the whole time

read.

bethchase replied to this story:

bethchase: oh ew 😭😭😭

bethchase: boys are so dirty

poseidonsfavchild: don’t group me with them

bethchase: i once saw a week old pizza in your cabin that had mushrooms growing on top of the mushrooms

poseidonsfavchild: sorry i didnt have time to clean my room i was too busy SAVING OLYMPUS?!

read.

yn_yln replied to this story:

yn_yln: this is why i dont sleep over the ksig house

poseidonsfavchild: I'm gonna stop u right there

poseidonsfavchild: i dont need to know any more about ur sleepovers

read.

tagged yn_yln.

lukecastell4n: recharging on a brunch date with my fav tridelt after the weekend we just had

yn_yln: hot

yn_yln: love you 🩵 spending time with u is a blessing

lukecastell4n: you’re the biggest blessing 🤍

silenabeauregard: AWWWW SHITTTTT

bethchase: CUTE

clarisselarue: KSIG PRES IS A SOFTIE

lukecastell4n: only for my girl 🤷🏻‍♂️

liked by yn_yln.

poseidonsfavchild: im having a hard time believing that hanging out with me for ONE WEEKEND warrants a “recharge” when ur partying every weekend

lukecastell4n: percy you almost fought the chipotle staff TWICE

poseidonsfavchild: I PAID FOR GUAC SO I DESERVE MY GUAC

yn_yln: YOU paid? 🤨

poseidonsfavchild: MY SISTER PAID FOR GUAC SO I DESERVE GUAC

lukecastell4n: and the second time?

poseidonsfavchild: i didnt like their vibe idk

gr0verunderwood: percy 🤦🏾‍♂️

tagged lukecastell4n.

yn_yln: being in love is fun when u dont have ur little brother in ur ear telling u it’s gross that you’re dating his idol

poseidonsfavchild: I CALLED HIM MY IDOL ONCE

poseidonsfavchild: i’ve grown. i’m no longer young and naive.

gr0verunderwood: LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER. he always asks what we think luke's workout is. he's tryna get like him.

liked by lukecastell4n.

poseidonsfavchild: I TOLD YOU THAT IN CONFIDENCE

lukecastell4n: i gotchu lil bro

poseidonsfavchild: don't ever call me that again.

lukecastell4n: i love you forever and ever

liked by yn_yln.

silenabeauregard: wait the second pic!!! where is that!!!

yn_yln: the museum downtown on 6th!

silenabeauregard: ty!!! charliebeck we need to go.

liked by charliebeck.

[pupslimes]

how easy you are to need part 1

so. inspiration struck. blame haz for how long this is he infected me with the making stories a million pages bug. thank you to like all 5 of the people who read this before i posted it. anyways id like to present what i think is tumblrs first grizz x reader. definitely its first biz x grizz x reader because ive been scouring for that shit. love you guys!

.............................................................................

It was a good session again. Of course, anything Nate DM’ed was going to be great, but every session felt better than the last. You hadn’t expected to become a recurring character on Riptide when Nate had invited you to join at an open audition you met at, but you were more than excited to be. You didn’t expect all your nervous ramblings to end up taking you anywhere past an Instagram follow at best. But after you hopped down from the stage, Nate had booked it over. “I don’t even care if either of us get the part anymore,” he tripped over his feet and his words as he skidded to a halt in front of you, as if desperate to reach you. “Do you play DND?” At your excited nod, he had launched into an explanation of his podcast, particularly the campaign he ran, and you’d jumped at the chance, excited to maybe grow your own audience. And it had grown, but so had your friend group. By so many now, well beyond the five who you met when you started guest appearing. You’d even made your way into a few of Charlie’s videos at this point. A few speculations had swirled around about if you were dating anyone you were appearing with, but you’d solidly put those rumors to bed on your first stream post guest appearance. Your regular chat new you were an aspiring voice actor, and several of them were apparently also JRWI fans, cheering for you when they’d heard you’d met Grizzly. You were probably going to have to start seeking mods at this point, with the few people who just couldn’t seem to let your relationship status go, or thought they had the right to be assholes now that you’d gained a little notority with the boys and Milo. Jealous freaks.

You had poured a lot of yourself into your DND character, and it showed. He was incredibly flirty, just like you were in real life. It was what had helped you build your brand, a sharp sense of humor and an almost strange openness to your chat hitting on you. Not many guy streamers responded like you do to your chat, so you saw a small flood of watchers when you started. After you were outed, the viewership might have gone down, but you hardly noticed after the queer community had started pouring into the chat, their support becoming your mainstay in the community. You’d branched out from gaming, now running practice lines or even cooking streams with your close community of followers. You were nowhere near quitting your day job, but you loved your audience for their kindness, not the money. Of course some of the new people had also seen Just Roll With It, and had guessed when you mentioned you’d be guest starring on a show soon, and described your character in great detail. You’d kept quiet about confirming it outright, however, and enjoyed the excited messages from those who were proven right when the episode dropped. The chat demanded a watch party, but you cringed at the idea of watching yourself for an entire episode, especially with the knowledge that you were around for several.

Of course you’d stayed for several. Any time everyone gathered in LA, the boys filmed as many episodes as possible. There was a huge popularity in the in person episodes compared to the rest of them, and it was obvious to you why after sitting in on a few. The energy between the five was abundant, everyone practically bouncing off the walls both on and off camera. You had to toss back a few energy drinks to keep up with the rest of them, especially Charlie, who seemed like a boundless ball of energy, bouncing around at lightspeed and chatting your ear off. Your only solace was Milo, who seemed to also hang back just a little bit, except when it came to Zach. You were immediately taken under her wing, as another Riptide newbie, and she demanded you sit with her all day, claiming you needed to team up against the rest of the group. You giggled, and everyone else laughed with you, especially after you cracked a joke in response. The tension rolled off your shoulders after that, and you found yourself able to settle in more easily. You made a mental note to thank her later, which you did, profusely, but she just waved it off with a light shove to your shoulder.

Of course, being in an enclosed basement with five other people, in incredibly close quarters, meant you noticed things better. Meant you noticed a lot of things better, actually. For instance, you noticed the way that Nate constantly fiddled with his hair, pushing and shoving it around his forehead, tossing their head slightly to keep it away from their eyes. Their hands were never still either, twisting at any prop he could get his hands on, or on any jewelry he was wearing. Those were definitely the reasons you spent so much time staring at their hands and face. That and the fact that he was the DM. That was it, absolutely no other reason. And your cheeks were flushed from the heat in there! No matter that Zach had, as usual, set the AC to 69 degrees, six bodies in a room together was bound to generate a lot of heat. 

Speaking of Zach… well. From the beginning, you couldnt help but notice him after the two of you were introduced. His hair fell around his face very nicely, and his stubble looked like it would be almost soft to the touch. You were looking because you were envious, obviously! Getting on T had changed your hair pattern, and it kept a slight wave to it now. You had no idea what to do with it, but Zach obviously did. You’d have to ask him for his hair routine later, even though you assumed it was probably just three in one or something. Ugh. Cis men were so lucky, and they had no idea. The beard was also a source of envy for you. Yours grew in patchy and scraggly, the texture making you bristle when you touched it, so you kept your cheeks, chin, and neck absent of any hair. Sure it contributed to you not passing as well, but after getting top surgery, you really couldnt bring yourself to care. Everyone in the room made it a point to respect your pronouns, and your stomach only twisted when Zach called you man or dude because it gave you euphoria! Absolutely no other reason…

Safe to say, you were probably fucked.

So what if every time you made eye contact with one of them your cheeks flushed a little darker? It wasn’t visible on camera (yes, you did check, and no, it wasn’t weird that you asked to see the footage. Image as a streamer was important, okay?), and none of them commented on it, so you did your best not to draw attention to it either. You only laughed a little too loud at a joke once or twice, and it could totally be played off as nerves about the game. It was fine! Everything was going to be fine! You carefully kept watch on both Zach and Nate the first day, noting the glances they exchanged, but it never seemed to be anything past about the campaign itself.

You were able to relax more on the second day you trampled down the basement stairs, already buzzed on an extra large coffee from the shop up the street from Charlie’s place. You’d hit up the gas station as well, picking up snacks for the group along with your energy drinks you had found yourself craving yesterday. As you tossed a bag of Donettes on the table, Zach’s hand shot out to snatch them. “Bro! These are my favorite! How did you know?” He tore into the bag.

“Dude! It’s day two! Do you already have no fucking sense of decorum left?” Milo ribbed.

Zach lobbed a doughnut at her, which she caught on instinct, before lamenting her now powder covered fingers. Zach just snorted. “Serves you right,” He looked over to you, sticking a thumb out towards Milo and jamming it towards her. “Women, am I right?” You cackled, elbows dropping to the table to hold your head in your hands as you laughed with him.

“Lord forbid women do anything!” Milo called. “You’re officially uninvited from sitting next to me today, by the way. Hang out with your traitorous boy friends or whatever,”

“Fine! Maybe I will!” you chuckled. “Girls have cooties anyways!”

Zach slipped an arm around your waist, smiling triumphantly as he pulled you towards him. Your yelp came from nothing except surprise, thank you very much, and your glance to Nate was only to make sure that they weren’t waiting to get started, thank you very, very much. Nate’s gaze was trained on you, but he seemed a little spaced out, so your stomach settled quickly. Removing Zach’s hand from your hip gently, you scolded him.

“Hands off, unless you want me in your lap, Biz,” you joked, attempting to ease the tension slightly.

“Maybe I do,” he purred, jokingly. Jokingly, right? Obviously. Whatever. So what your heart caught in your throat?

You shook your head, face reddening slightly. “Gross dude, I’m not fucking gay,”

The rest of the room burst out laughing with you two this time, and you shoved him away from you as you crashed down into the chair next to him. You all settled down pretty quickly at Nate’s urges, and you jumped into session after session, poking a little more fun at Milo today than you had yesterday. The rest of them were treated with even more fervor, just like your other interactions with them. Eventually, after a few Riptide sessions, full of screaming, bullying, and threats, you all cut the cameras and broke for lunch, ordering a practical buffet from the Asian place down the street. It was dead silent for the first several minutes after the food had been divvied out, everyone ravenous after all the effort from the morning. Eventually, Nate broke the silence, turning to you. “Hey,”

“Yeah, Grizz?”

“You know you can call us all our names right? Like, off camera? I know it’s weird to use two names but. We like using names outside of session,” he smiled at you gently.

Your cheeks darkened immediately. “Ah! Um… well. If anyone is going to be good at using two names for people, it’ll be me,” A general chuckle from around the table. “I just wasn’t sure we were friends like that quite yet,”

Nate piqued an eyebrow at you. “What is that supposed to mean? You’re in the inner circle at this point! Once you’re in a Charlie video, you’re in!”

“Even if you’re only there virtually? Among Us doesn’t usually indicate the highest level of friendship,”

A snort from Charlie. “Well, yeah I guess, but you’ve joined the slompound officially, dude,”

A grin split your face. “Okay! Thanks, Sli- Charlie,” 

He smiled back at you. Nate pouts. “Hey! I’m the one who brought it up!” 

You turned back to them. “Of course, how could I forget? Thank you, Nate,” You must have imagined the color that dusted high on his cheeks when you said his name.

When you all made it back down to the basement, you decided to push your luck a little. “Miloooooo,” you whined. She turned to you, and so did Zach and Nate, Charlie and Eric continuing to swap out props for Judgement sessions. “If I apologize for earlier can I sit next to you again? Zach smells,”

Her face perked with a laugh, but before she could get any words out, Zach wss on top of you. “Hey!” He smacked at you gently a few times. “Fucking rude bitch,” You stuck your tongue out at him, and he smirked, before grabbing for it, his thumb grazing it before you could slip it back in your mouth. You reacted a second too late, pretending to be disgusted at the taste of his skin, sputtering and spitting, before retreating towards Milo. 

She looked at you with false pity in her eyes. “Oh you poor thing, of course you can sit with me!” She fliped off Zach, and you joined her. He flipped you off back.

Condi’s voice boomed out in the room. “Ooooooookay, you guys. Let’s cool off now, yeah?” The fingers all turned to him. “Hey!”

After several sessions of Judgement, you all stumbled, bleary eyed, up the basement stairs, slamming bodies down onto the couches forming the pit in Charlie’s living room. Charlie groaned, turning his head to the side. 

“Half an hour of rotting, and then dessert and a movie?” More groans, ascension from the others and yourself filled the room. You closed your eyes, letting the shapes behind them spin and lull you into a stupor. 

Before you knew it, someone was shaking you awake. You blinked heavily, hands reaching out to tangle in a shirt, and a small grunt was let into your ear, breath brushing your face. “Come on, man,” a gravelly voice nearly cooed down at you. Your eyes opened wider. Oh, shit. That would be Zach above you, and his shirt you had your hands tangled in. You released it quickly, pressing yourself back down into the couch. 

“Sorry, bro!”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Nothing to apologize for. You’re cute when you’re sleepy or whatever,” he winked at you.

Despite knowing it was a joke, your breath caught in your throat a little. “And you’re a sight to wake up to,” You shot back. He grinned.

“Come on, argue with me for ice cream,” he referenced your favorite dessert, warming your heart that he remembered it.

In the end, you got ice cream. Nate also immediately glued themself to your side when you walked in with Zach, and became your ally in the dessert argument. His weird tension towards Bizly relaxed after he advocated for ice cream as well, and you couldn’t help but wonder at what was happening between the two of them. You didn’t have enough brain power left that night to really bring yourself to decode it, so you let it go. After the movie, everyone unanimously agreed to crash as fast as possible, and you barely even made it to your room before you passed out. 

That was how you found yourself now, on your third day with the group. You squint against the sun, streaming through the blinds you hadn’t closed last night. You consider going back to sleep for another hour or so, but the disgusting taste in your mouth eventually forces you up. You had definitely forgotten to brush your teeth last night. As you scrubbed at your teeth with a heavy hand, you woke up slightly more, checking the time on your phone. 11:30. You were grateful you only had the one session to film today, and then you’d have time to just hang out with everyone. They’d even agreed to stream with you later, insisting you all play Jackbox together. You spat into the sink. Gross. Orange. Rinsing out your mouth and splashing your face, you ponder on who else could be up. You decide to sneak into the kitchen and see who’s around. Padding in on gentle feet, you can smell coffee brewing. You peek around the corner, and long silvery hair catches your eye. 

“Hey, Nate,” your voice is always a little gravelly in the mornings, catching in the back of your throat until you’ve really woken all the way up.

He startles a little at your call, head snapping over his shoulder before he relaxes. “Oh, hey! Sorry, voice I’m not used to hearing in the morning. You sound like you smoke a pack a day or something,”

You chuckle, hand rubbing the back of your neck. “Is it at least hot?”

His cheeks flush a little, but he grins. “Very,”

You hum in appreciation, sliding over in your sock feet to the coffee pot. “Almost ready?”

They nod. “Started it about 5 minutes ago. Sorry if the noise woke you up,”

Unable to fully communicate, you shake your head and reach for him, dragging him into a hug to show your feelings instead. He lets out a slight noise of surprise, before reaching to hug you back. Arms tangle over your waist, and his head drops to your shoulder, where it fits perfectly due to your height difference. You hum lightly, gripping him a little tighter, before drifting away mentally just a little, drinking in the warmth and softness of his support beneath your head, clad in a comfy red sweatshirt. He smells like some kind of plant life and petrichor. You inhale more deeply, trying to catch what kind of plant it is, but the long breaths and comforting position go straight to your still hazy brain, and you find yourself relaxing into them further. Nate never protests, his head shifting further into the crook of your shoulder ,a gentle sigh escaping him.

When the coffee timer goes off, beeping a singular time, both of you tense slightly. You realize just how long you’ve been wrapped in each other, and you step away slightly. “Sorry,”

His face is almost the same color as his hoodie. “Don’t be,”

Before you can say anything else, a voice sounds from the hallway. “Do I hear coffee?” Eric strolls into the room. “Thank you guys so fucking much, holy shit. I alwways feel hungover after big session days. I’m not sure how we ever recorded The Suckening all at once,”

“I’m assuming a lot of caffeine,” you huff, and Nate nods at your side, attempting nonchalance. 

“That and going crazy in the red room,”

You all giggle together, pouring and sipping at coffee, the other two feeding you stories of different campaigns, you drinking them in with glittering eyes. The others eventually make their way in, joining the three of you at the table. You don’t even notice that Nate’s leg has pressed against yours under the table until Zach pulls up the chair to your other side, squishing himself up to you. “You snore in your sleep,”

You smack at his wrist, skin to skin echoing in the room as your eyes widen. “Good morning to you, sunshine,”

He smirks. “I got up to piss in the middle of the night and heard it,”

“Fuck you,”

“If you insist,”

You stick your tongue out at him again. He raises an eyebrow before reaching to pinch it again. This time, you snap your teeth at his fingers. “Feisty boy,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “Freak,”

He chuckles. “You’re the one who tried to bite me,” 

You huff. “I’m talking to Nate now. Goodbye,”

He pretends to pout as you turn yourself to Nate, leaning in further to him. “Hi, handsome,”

He swallows heavily before responding, but recovers fast, leaning into you as the conversations continue, Milo now yelling at Zach for being a bitch. Again. You giggle. Breakfast goes by quickly, and before you know it, you’re back in the basement. You stay attached to Nate this time, even after he pulls off his sweatshirt, and your skin is pressing directly to his. Everyone is crowded together more today. No one will notice.

After you finish the session, much more quickly this time, you peel yourself from him. “I’m going upstairs for another energy drink,” you declare. “I’ll need it to survive the day. I can come clean up later,” The rest of them wave you off, insisting you shouldn’t be cleaning after your first in person week, and you blow them a raspberry as you bounce upstairs. 

Reaching into the fridge, you pull out an ice cold can, relishing in the feeling against your heated hands. You crack open the can over the sink, and take a long pull from it. You close your eyes as you feel the caffeine start invading your bloodstream, and your thoughts wander back to the events from below.

Lost in thought about the session, and maybe about Nate and Zach, you don't notice anything until the sound of rustling perks your ears. you turn around at the noise. He's standing behind you, inches away, grinning. You stumble back a few steps. "Oh! Biz... ah, Zach...hi," The name still feels foreign in your mouth, not your gut reaction, but they’d all practically demanded you start calling them their names. As you move backward, not looking where you're going, you back into a wall...no... someone. someone warm, someone whose arms wrap around your waist as they press a kiss to the shoulder they were buried in only hours earlier. "Hey, sweetheart," Fuck.  "Hi, Nate,"

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Brother’s Best Friend (Azriel x Reader)

summary: you are cassian’s sister and have a thing for azriel

wc: 1K

a/n: this is my first fic ive written for tumblr since like 2014 i think so sorry if its absolute garage. this is also not proof read at all and honestly i wrote this while tipsy bc ive been nervous to write again so i’m just saying fuck it i’m sorry :)

warnings: slight smut/suggestiveness

You always looked up to Cassian since you were little.

Like most big brothers, he has always been protective as fuck, especially with growing up in the windhaven camp and becoming solely responsible for you after your mother died.

He shielded you from so much in your childhood because he wanted the best for you.

Like many little sisters, you thought Cassian and his friends were the coolest males alive and wanted to follow them everywhere.

You basically had three big brothers instead of one.

They would try to include you as much as possible, but sometimes they did certain things that you definitely should not be around and would find some excuse to get rid of you.

But at the end of the day, the three of them would stand up to just about anyone for you to protect you. And they did.

They only let you join the snowball fight once and then kicked you out because it wasn’t fair that you only targeted Cassian the entire time and that Azriel felt bad throwing snowballs at you.

Also you were a child and couldn’t throw far enough to hit any of them, but they still say you suck at snowball throwing to this day.

When you got older, you desperately tried to ignore the rumors you heard about the boys around the camp. No one needs to hear about their brother’s sex life.

When the four of you moved to Velaris and after everything with Rhysand’s family, they were all very protective over you.

Over time, you and Azriel grew closer. His close friendship with Cassian led to you becoming closer with him than Rhys.

He is soooo protective of you.

So much so that no one bats an eye when he scares off any male that tries to court you, claiming they are not worth your time.

“I’m not overprotective, I just don’t think that any of these males meet your standards.” Aka his standards for you

Having a shadow or two follow you around became the norm.

You and Azriel start to spend a lot of one on one time together, platonically at first. You two are definitely the comfortable silence type.

Reading your separate books on the couch together was a common occurrence.

You spent years trying to ignore the shift in how you viewed Azriel.

Neither of you are quite sure when you realized the change in your relationship, but one day you became very aware of how attractive you find him.

The shy and quiet boy quickly became the silent and mysterious male.

And Azriel isn’t quite sure when you went from being Cassian’s kinda annoying younger sister to a vivacious female with curves he can’t keep his eyes off of.

The emotional connection had been there for centuries through friendship, but once it became physical attraction, you both knew you were screwed.

One night after drinking at Rita’s, Cassian asked Azriel to make sure you got home safe.

The alcohol inhibits both of your judgements and you both end up in your bed that night.

“You don’t know how long I have wanted to do this. No other male even deserves the chance to try to make you feel as good as I do.”

He was your first (again because he scared away every single male who tried to come near you) and it was fucking adorable

Waking up next to your brother’s best friend is a different level of anxiety.

You freak out and tell him this absolutely cannot happen again. You make an effort to avoid being alone with him.

But obviously Azriel is not content with just one night after getting a taste of you.

He spends the next several weeks slowly breaking down your walls with sneaky touches and whispering dirty things in your ear when no one is watching.

Eventually you cave and end up at his door one night, pissed at him for succeeding, but also practically begging him to fuck you again.

And again. And again.

It took no time at all for the actual feelings to be revealed between you two and to start secretly dating.

And from there it’s months of sneaking around and pretending to be just friends in front of others.

Az feels sooo guilty about lying to his friend but you don’t want to tell Cassian because you know he will freak out.

He asks you so many times to tell Cassian because he hates lying to him.

And Rhys is so suspicious of you two but doesn’t want to interfere.

Eventually Cassian catches you two.

He enters Azriel’s room without knocking one night to ask some stupid question and finds Azriel with his face between your legs. We all know Az loves eating you out so obviously.

Cassian is pissed.

As in, he tries to fight Azriel.

But Azriel just lets him and doesn’t fight back because he knows he fucked up by not saying anything sooner.

You start screaming and put yourself between the two of them to get Cassian to stop, which makes Azriel immediately move to cover you in case Cassian doesn’t react quick enough to stop.

Cassian sees how protective Azriel is of you and how you were willing to throw yourself in front of Azriel to defend him and realizes this isn’t just some casual thing between you two.

It takes a couple days for him to forgive Azriel for lying. He forgives you within one day because you always have been able to use your puppy dog eyes on him to get what you want.

Eventually Cassian accepts your relationship.

But he threatens Azriel that if he ever hurts you, he will do something so severe that Az wouldn’t tell you what he said.

Cassian still makes an overdramatic scene of gagging every time you and Azriel are affectionate in front of him.

Which only makes you do it more to piss him off because that’s what sisters do.

[halucynator]

False Fronts IV

part 4 of 4

fluff version.

hii omg i finally did this im so happy with this there's an angst version as well bc who doesnt like some good ol' angst from time to time

also the other version was released early bc im stupid so ty to @berryzxx for reminding me (i just want a reason to tag you)

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings:fluffff arguments (oohOOHOoH) swearing, not so fake dating (but are they?), the and y/n being idiots, not a happy ending, not proof read (as usual) and my writing

summary: being asked to fake date someone to get a petty ex off their back is the worst possible way of being friend-zoned. you, however, were willing to take any chances to get as close as you could to theodore nott.

angst is hereeee

reblogs with tags are always appreciated mwah

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4: angst

The tension between you and Theo had been brewing for days, each passing moment adding weight to the unspoken emotions that hung heavily in the air. Unable to bear the silence any longer, you initiated the conversation, the frustration and confusion evident in your voice.

"Theo, can we talk?" you asked, your voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and determination.

He glanced up from his book, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. "Sure, what's up?"

"It's about us," you began cautiously, the words feeling heavier than you'd anticipated. "I feel like there's something here, between us. But I'm confused about where you stand."

Theo's expression flickered, a fleeting mixture of uncertainty and conflict clouding his features. "I don't know if diving into a relationship right now is the best idea."

"But this isn't just about a relationship," you insisted, your voice rising in exasperation. "It's about acknowledging what's been brewing between us, Theo."

He sighed, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "I'm not sure what I want, Y/N. It's complicated."

"Complicated?" You scoffed, the frustration simmering within you. "What's so complicated about being honest?"

"Why can't you understand?" Theo's voice rose, mirroring your frustration. "I don't want to mess things up and end up causing you pain."

"You're not getting it!" Your voice echoed in the charged atmosphere. "I need to know where we stand, and your indecision isn't helping."

Theo's reluctance grated on your nerves, fueling the intensity of the argument. "I need you to be honest with me, Theo. I can't keep waiting for something that might never happen!"

"I know, but I'm conflicted," he admitted, his tone wavering.

Frustration boiled within you. "Conflicted about what? Us?"

His gaze shifted away, a mix of guilt and concern clouding his features. "I... I don't want Jess to hurt you."

"I can handle Jess, she isn't your responsibility," you asserted firmly, the frustration simmering beneath your words.

"You don't get it, do you?" Theo's voice cut through the tension, edged with frustration. "She's MY ex."

His words stung, and the heat of the argument intensified. "And that gives you the right to dictate what's good for me?" you shot back, your voice rising in indignation.

"Look, I'm just trying to protect you," Theo retorted, his tone laced with urgency.

"Protect me? From what?" Your voice rose, the frustration boiling over. "I can handle my own affairs, Theo. I don't need you deciding what's best for me!"

The tension crackled between you, each word spoken a testament to the underlying emotions that had escalated into a heated argument. The clash of opinions and conflicting desires hung heavily in the charged atmosphere, leaving the potential relationship teetering on the edge of uncertainty. The anticipation in the room was suffocating.

Days stretched into weeks, and the awkward distance between you and Theo became the new norm. Despite the avoidance, every accidental encounter sent a rush of conflicting emotions through you. Butterflies danced in your stomach, a bittersweet reminder of the connection you once shared, now lost in a fog of misunderstanding.

Each time your paths crossed, the unresolved tension simmered beneath the surface. The silent longing for resolution battled with the ache of hurt and confusion, leaving you caught in a turmoil of emotions whenever Theo came into view.

The avoidance hadn't dulled the effect he had on you. His presence was still magnetic, drawing your attention despite the unspoken rift that divided you both. The simple sight of him evoked a rush of emotions, a testament to the bond you once shared and the rift that now tore you apart.

With every passing moment, the yearning for clarity clashed with the fear of confronting the situation, leaving you entangled in a web of unresolved emotions and unspoken apologies, the butterflies a painful yet undeniable reminder of the connection you couldn't seem to sever.

Summoning your courage, you approached Theo's dorm, determined to offer an overdue apology. A hesitant knock resulted in eerie silence. Unsure of Theo's whereabouts, you glanced around the deserted hallway, your resolve mingling with uncertainty.

Taking a tentative step forward, you reached for the doorknob, finding it unlocked. The decision to enter felt both intrusive and necessary. The room was devoid of life, the emptiness echoing the void that had developed between you and Theo.

Your gaze drifted to Theo's desk, where a single piece of paper lay. The handwriting was unmistakable, sending a jolt of emotions through you as you read the words:

Last night was so fun, so glad you dropped Y/N.

- Jess

Disbelief and a pang of deception ricocheted through you. The words were like a gut punch, shattering the fragile hope you had held for reconciliation and understanding. Confusion clouded your thoughts as you grappled with the apparent evidence before you.

Your mind raced, attempting to process the meaning behind Jess's note. It seemed to confirm your worst fears, undermining the fragile trust you had in the situation and leaving your heart aching with the weight of assumed betrayal.

With tear-filled eyes and a heavy heart, you turned away, the intention of offering an apology now replaced by a swirl of hurt. The unaddressed misunderstanding had taken root, poisoning the hope for amends and leaving you in a cloud of uncertainty and hurt.

After catching a glimpse of the note and feeling a surge of mixed emotions, you found yourself actively avoiding Theo. Days turned into a tense cycle of dodging encounters and deflecting questions, leaving Theo increasingly perplexed by your sudden distance.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Theo finally confronted you, his tone a blend of confusion and concern.

Your gaze wavered, torn between the urge to explain and the fear of facing the truth. "I just need some space," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, evading the heart of the matter.

Theo's expression shifted from confusion to hurt, his eyes clouded with the weight of your avoidance. "Did i do something wrong?" he pressed gently, hoping for a glimmer of understanding.

You hesitated, unsure how to voice the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. "I don't know," you muttered, the words falling between you like an insurmountable barrier.

The tension between you was palpable, an unspoken rift widening with every passing moment of silence. The distance between you grew, leaving both of you stranded in a sea of unanswered questions and unspoken feelings.

Theo sensed your unease. "Hey, something's been off. What's going on?" he asked, a tinge of concern in his voice.

"Well..." you hesitated, before showing him the note, unaware that he didn't know about it. "She sent you that note?" Theo's voice edged with surprise and confusion.

"What! No," you replied hastily, caught off guard by his assumption, unaware he didn't have any knowledge of the note's existence.

Theo's eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. "I'm lost. What's happening?" he asked, completely unaware of the note you were holding, his confusion evident in his expression.

"You're being accused of cheating on me with Jess, but now I think you're being framed," you explained, your voice tinged with concern as you showed him the note.

"What? I would never! You know that!" Theo's words spilled out, shock and disbelief evident in his tone and expression.

His vehement denial resonated with the sincerity you knew so well, and a wave of relief washed over you. You knew him, knew his values, and believed in his loyalty.

"I love you, I'd never do anything to hurt you," he continued, desperation and honesty lacing his words as he took his face in his hands turning it to face him.

His earnest declaration struck a chord within you, dispelling some of the doubts that had clouded your mind. You realized that amidst the chaos and confusion, trusting in your bond with Theo was paramount.

"Yeah, I-I'm sorry." you stammered, your voice filled with a mix of emotions, as you finally let go of the lingering doubts.

Theo's eyes softened with understanding, a gentle smile forming on his lips. Without another word, he closed the distance between you, enveloping you in a reassuring embrace. In that moment, the unspoken affection bloomed, filling the air with an undeniable warmth.

With a rush of emotions, you met halfway, your lips gently pressing against his in a tender and heartfelt kiss.

"I love you too" you whispered as he pulled you in again for a kiss.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

hi hello! this is the end of the series. check out the angsty ver here if you'd like! here are a few fics to read while i work on my next one:

masterlist

reader's choice (mattheo x reader)

reader's choice (theodore x reader)

i honestly had so much fun writing this thank you for sticking along with this <33 sorry for how late this is i was like so busy and im also lazy so yea

taglist: @hisparentsgallerryy @jetblackpayne @delulu4marauders @ahead-fullofdreams

if you want to be added to my theodore/any other character's taglist just send me an ask/dm!

[goomyloid]

the chara comic you posted is awesome! i really love the way you color things!

personally, i think chara would not be okay with seeing the monsters be killed, even to "see everything about them because they love them". if i interpreted the comic correctly, and you were suggesting that they would think it's worth it to "see everything", i'd like to ask: why do you think that?

i'm not trying to be confrontational or anything, i'm just curious about your interpretation of their character

hiii firstly thank you for enjoying my comic!! i worked pretty hard on it so im really glad people like it!

i had to think about this question for a while, and i guess this is my answer:

i think that while chara was alive, they weren’t okay with seeing monsters around them die, and wouldnt kill them themself, but that doesn’t mean they were ‘pure’ and against killing altogether; they did want to kill the humans from their village, and getting the chance to do so was presumably one of the reasons they were willing to commit suicide. after all, it seemed to me like their plan was just as much of a revenge plan as it was a plan to save monsterkind, and i think it’s a common interpretation that they were stewing on those negative feelings after death for a loooong time.

though i suppose that’s just my reasoning for their capacity to kill. in terms of them wanting to “see everything,” i intended for there to be a few different meanings/implications for this:

1. the more literal comparison to the player, relating to how we do the no mercy route not because we hate the characters, but because we love them; we want to see everything they have to say, even if it means hurting them, because we’re too attached to the world undertale has to offer (though this feeling depends on your personal experience with the game)

2. the less literal, more diegetic comparison to flowey, who has cycled through numerous timelines, “reading every book” and “burning every book” so to speak, i.e. seeing everything the world has to offer — not out of love, but in a desperate attempt for entertainment, since he couldnt feel love himself. hence the line, “you need more and more and more love, but it’s never enough. so you stretch everything thin until it breaks.”

3. a nod to chara’s tendency to push things to its limit in general. things like them filling water glasses all the way to the top, or 9 being their favorite number. but their desire for extremes (such as their plan, which was pretty extreme if you ask me) doesnt always end in success; sometimes it ends in dire failure.

this, along with the fact that no matter what interpretation of chara you may hold, they generally might not have been the greatest person. which makes sense, right? no one is gonna be entirely good or bad. if anything, people tend to portray more of the ‘bad’ side of chara we see in the no mercy route. and while chara interpretations historically DO tend to be overwhelmingly (and inaccurately) negative (insane killer facemelty evil demon and all that), it still feels wrong to me to do a complete 180 and say chara was completely good and normal and hated dying and death and everything related to it. (not that this was your interpretation ofc, just using hyperbole to describe other interpretations ive seen in passing)

before this gets wildly too long, the point ive been trying to get to is that there’s Nuance. i dont think chara is “okay” with killing monsters so much as them seeing it as a means to an end, in a sense; the person doing it is trying to achieve something outside of just Piles of Asriel's Monster Dust. to “love something so much you want to destroy it” isn’t usually a conclusion most normal people come to, but these three entities in question — the player, flowey, and chara — are definitely Not Normal, each in their own respective ways. all of this is to say that chara doesn't necessarily condone the player annihilating monsterkind or flowey toying with people's lives, they can understand the sentiment behind it and Why we do it.

i could go on but the TLDR is that: while i think chara has the capacity to wish death on others in general, the main idea is less about what they think is morally right or wrong and more about their reaction to OUR (and by extension, flowey's) decisions; it's less so chara "being okay" with monsters dying (in fact, i tried to convey that they're not all that happy about it, with how they look down at flowey rather Menacingly on that one page) and more of them analyzing the situation as a whole and reflecting on their life and sentiments.

DEEPLY SORRY FOR THE WALL OF TEXT but it was fun to get my thoughts out more clearly! usually i like to leave comics like this more up to the reader's interpretation, so if others saw it differently than me, that's totally okay, these are just my personal thoughts ^^

[jesus-is-an-ally]

How do you get past feeling stupid when you believe in God? Like, how do you ignore the feeling that you should be an atheist and not believe in God and that all this is just, a fake made up religion meant to control people? And obviously when i say you i mean i. I want to believe but i feel so dumb for it. I know im a smart person but every time i get involved with christianity i feel like im taking to an imaginary friend because thats how everyone refers to it. I feel like im feeding into an industry that colonized people, when i dont even go to church.

And ive had experiences with God that feel so unlike any religious experience ive had, but my brain always forces me to logic it away. Like ill feel an immeasurable level of calm and happiness and then my brain will go 'those are just endorphins'. How do i get past that?

Long read ahead, but I encourage everyone to read it, because I did my best to answer this and I think there's some good stuff in here.

Hey anon. First I'd like to say that I am not professionally trained, I do not possess a biblical degree of any kind, nor am I a pastor or a priest or anyone like that. But I have been a Christian my entire life, so that should count for something, Lord willing.

I also want to say that I think this is a very good question and I thank you for asking it, as it gave me a chance to think deeply on my faith in order to put it into words.

I always find it really hard to explain faith. I struggle to explain to fellows Christians, to non-Christians, and especially to people who aren’t religious or spiritual in any way. This is probably because faith is very much not a thing of this world, so it is nit easily translatable. But I will try my best.

I too have dealt with doubts in my life. I have felt the need to logic it away. All Christians have one doubt or another, and if they say they haven't, they are lying or potentially believing in a watered down, more palatable version of Christianity.

Either way, let's face it, the world is designed by the devil to make you doubt. The good news is that there is no question or doubt or critique that is going to make God start shaking in Their boots, realizing They hadn't thought of that. They are omnipotent, and anything you are wondering can most likely be found in the Bible, if you know where and how to look.

There are many books that explain the logic of Christianity, such as “Person of Intrest” by J. Warner Wallace or “The Case for A Creator” by Lee Strobel, who has also written many other books similar to this. Fair warning, it’s been forever since I’ve looked into either of these books, so there’s a chance there’s questionable stuff in there that I don’t remember.

However, I do need to say that faith is very much NOT a logical thing. It’s a belief in something that you cannot see, touch, hear, or otherwise sense except with your soul. It's the trust that God is out there, even when you lack concrete evidence.

I believe a person cannot become a believer by force, whether their own or someone else's. You have to truly open up your heart and let the Holy Spirit in. You must confess with your mouth that you believe in the Son of God who died and rose again, that you are a sinner, and that you need forgiveness and guidance.

I'm not pulling this out of my ass, there are a bunch of verses on how faith is not based in the logic of this world. Here are a few.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3‬:‭5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.

‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭2‬:‭4‬-‭5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

For we live by faith, not by sight.

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭5‬:‭7‬ ‭NIV‬‬

There's a story I heard when I was a kid about a pastor being asked if he can hear God speaking to him in his prayers, and the pastor responded "no, I can't hear Him, it's much clearer than that". Faith is something practically unexplainable in earthly concepts or words. But it is solid, even it doesn't feel like it.

Hebrews chapter 11 is all about faith and what people have done by it, and I encourage you to read it, but I'd like to specifically call attention to Hebrews 11:1, which says,

Faith shows the reality of what we hope for; it is the evidence of things we cannot see.

This is the verse often pointed to when people discuss the biblical definition of faith, and it's the best I can offer.

However, it sounds like science and reason is not the only thing you are struggling with. As for morality, how can we be Christians when Christianity was used to abuse, colonize, and murder innocent people all throughout history and even today?

I'm not going to use the bullshit excuse of "oh they just weren't real Christians" because that is unhelpful, defensive, and probably not even true. All Christians are sinners, and hatred, murder, and all of that other stuff are sins, so it is possible that many or all of those people were true believers.

The simple answer to this question is that sometimes you just have to accept that your people did bad things and swear do your best to stop it from happening again (without spending so much energy on it that you burn out). I have had a lot of practice at this since I'm also white.

In German elementary schools, when they teach the children about WW2, what they basically say is “hey, this is our history, you didn’t do it so you don’t have to feel guilt, but you do have a duty to never let it happen again”.

I think this sort of thinking should be taught to the descendants of all oppressive people. I will also add that we also need to check ourselves that no nasty thoughts have slipped their way in. Often, you can continue the hurt without realizing. But this doesn't mean that Christianity is secretly evil or that Christians are inherently going to abuse others or any of that.

At the end of the day, there's nothing I can truly say that will instantly make you believe.

Like I said, it's not something I can force nor is it something you can logic your way into. No amount of evidence, even if it's the most rock-solid thing in all of the universe, can make someone have faith.

I hope there is something in here that can help you in some way, anon, and I pray God blesses you and keeps you safe.

[tigerdrop]

Got any fun thoughts to share about Ford and Bill?

they drive me crazy dude. i have a lot to say about them so im putting it under a readmore

ive been billpilled for 1 million years dog. hes like the Blueprint. bills the perfect entity to me: terrifying shapeshifting demon who can slip into every corner of your mind and read all your thoughts and memories. and also hes a cartoon character with noodle arms and a cute shape. and hes a pathetic worm whos hung up on his human ex. and hes a funny little guy whos playful and mean and delights in tormenting you but juuuust enough so that he doesnt break you. Hes so awesome

like. listen. this isnt going to be a surprise if youve read literally anything ive ever written. but if bill possessed ford and slammed his hand in a car door and got a kick out of it and put him in a funny little outfit id be fine about it. ford was literally in a 24/7 freeuse lifestyle with him so why WOULDNT he

yeah im kind of a masochist. Why do u ask

put his ass in a horny neurotic guys body and see what happens. hit his dick with a cartoon mallet for fun. slap him around a little. feels cool and neat! like "human bodies are so responsive, huh" said while blanfords about to jam a fork into an outlet (thats my name for it btw. Im not looking it up)

what if i hurt you?? what if i dropped you??? Just kidding :-)

i dont know how much genuine sexual pleasure bill would get out of it so much as the thrill and novelty of a new human sensation but i think that could be fun in and of itself. jacking off with another guys body in a weirdly distant way like Haha Wow. Im getting kind of flustered here! (actively jamming a coke bottle into his pussy)

and the thing that really drives me crazy about ford is how much fetish shit he thinks about/makes inventions for/has inflicted upon him. i think in the series finale hes tied up like 3 fucking times. its insane. he wants to give up control of his body so fucking bad dude!!!!! (exhibit A: ford going limp like a kitten whenever hes picked up. it happens more than once.)

and theres even more contrived bondage bits in the deleted scenes! its maddening. hes an insane obsessive bdsm-lifestyling pervert and hes likethe ideal guy to match bills freak

hes soooo fucking easy. its so much fun to me. theres something really erotic about the way bill makes him feel special about his hands......like.......its naked flattery but its also kinda true. its weird. he likes weird shit. and ford falls for it soooo easy. drives me nuts

now walk with me. think about how easy that same interaction would transfer to ford being transgender. and your not allowed to get mad at me bc this is just my thing now

its so strange! kind of captivating. bills been around the block but the western conception of transmasculinity is so recent that for him it might as well be a blink of the eye. so i think it would be new to him. especially given when he actually makes a deal with ford. just another special thing about his special little guy. he *knew* there was something about ford

and to be frank i think that if you were a transmasc pervert in the 70s and a dream demon came along that understood you inside and out and can make all of your bizarre fantasies come true. well. you would have been fucking stupid not to fuck him

i need to read the book of bill so fucking bad bc the extra context of bill being super hung up on ford drives me CRAZY!!!! i love bitter lovestruck jerks. i love divorce. and i think they could and should hook up again. bad guys that are reluctantly forced to stop being so bad are so much fun and fords huge fucking ego didnt go anywhere. i think bill could convince ford to give him a second chance. at least just to hook up for old times sake

anyway. im making a bill itabag. Gotta go

[whatitsdecending]

Chokehold: Pt. IV

Vessel x Reader x Noah Sebastian

Things have already become a little messy as you spend more time in the UK. Lies being made and overwhelming thoughts are occupying your mind, despite the need for that to not even exist.

A/N: I did not realize how quickly two weeks just flew by since I last updated… so here’s a longer part with some drama for all of you<3

Word Count: 6.3k

Content warning: instances of extreme anxiety and overthinking, distressing situations, sexual tendencies, harassment, violence

—————————

“Hey pretty girl, I’ve been waiting for you to call.” Hearing his voice on the other end nearly blindsided you. Although you were the one to initiate the call, him actually picking up is what had you nervous.

“Hey Noah.” You responded, running your hand under the water coming from the faucet to check the temperature. You heard the sound of him shuffling around, presumably in his bed due to what time it’d currently be in LA.

“Are you taking a bath right now?” He asked, you could hear the tone of his voice perk up. You roll your eyes, typical Noah. “What are you getting ready for?”

You sink into the warm water and sighed when it hit your sore cunt, knowing you’re going to be feeling all of that for the rest of the day and into tomorrow. “Nothing, I just needed to take a bath. So what’s up with the sudden urge to talk to me?” His chuckle echoed through your phone speakers and bounced around the bathroom walls, not even giving you a chance before you find yourself smiling at it.

“I miss you that’s why.” He eventually says. “How did that technology detox go? Feeling less whacked out on it?” You snorted as you remembered the excuse you told Noah yesterday after the plane landed, technology detox… how convincing.

“Yeah… feeling like I should read more now and empower my brain with that rather than a screen.” You cupped water in your hands and splashed it onto your shoulders, not wanting to fully sink into the tub because you know you’d never get out.

“Don’t you read enough already?” Noah’s serious tone wrapped around you like a glove. One of the many things that irked you a bit about him was how much he enjoyed poking fun at your hobby for reading. He’d never been the one to just sit down with one of the books you recommended and actually see why you liked it so much. “I think you need to get out of your apartment more. Maybe come spend some time out in LA with me?”

There it was.

You squeezed your eyes shut. He was so quick to say it too, he couldn’t at least ask how you’ve been first? You didn’t know how to respond and once again found yourself fumbling to put a sentence together. Your best choice would be to tell him the truth, every single piece of it too. But yet something nagged at you from the back of your mind, does he really deserve the truth?

“You’re a little late for that Noah.” You responded, taking the folded cloth on the edge of the tub and adding body wash to it and began to gently clean yourself.

“Of course I am, let me guess you’re away at your parents house?” Well, if you insist. The smile that tugged at your lips was devilish, knowing that this will become much easier without him having a clue.

“I am. I spent my technology detox catching up with them.” You hoped you were sounding convincing enough for Noah. He’s gotten pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to him, so you grit your teeth as you await his response.

A chuckle from the line filled the silence. “That’s good to hear, Y/N. I know you were missing them. Chicago is still looking nice this time of year?”

You laughed at his attempts to make such casual conversation with you, any kind of conversing the two of you did ended with him fucking you senseless. “It’s nice, a little cold. It’s snowing here too.” You looked out the window that was tucked away a bit in the bathroom, giving some form of privacy despite the fact that Vessel had no neighbors. The snow had stopped falling sometime ago but the white dust that covered every piece of nature outside was relaxing to stare at, especially now that Noah had brought up being home.

Home. You mentally punched yourself in the gut over the fact that you just hopped on a plane to go all the way to London to stay with a man you’d only seen in person once, but constantly forgot to make trips back home to see your parents. You didn't even tell them you were coming here… That’s going to have to be another phone call you make today.

“I’m sure the snow is nice right now.” Noah snickered a little over the line until you heard another voice that sounded like Jolly calling for him. “Ahh duty calls, I must help Jolly move some shit around.”

“Tell him I said hi please!” You say enthusiastically.

“I will, but I better go before he comes in here and drags me out of my bed. Talk later?” The hope in his voice at the end is what made you want to sink into the water and never return.

“Of course Noah. Now go help Jolly out before he kills you.” You laughed a bit at the end as you could hear the door opening to Noah’s room, Jolly’s voice ringing out as he grew impatient. There was a little bit of a scuffle and some mumbled arguing then the call ended. You stared at your phone that rested on the ledge next to the tub now that it's gone silent, leaving the distant sounds of Vessel cooking in the kitchen to bring you back to reality.

You rested your head back against the tub and took a deep breath. For some reason you could not shake the anxiety that racked your body after the call with Noah, it came out of nowhere and made your chest feel tight. You took long and deep breaths, knowing this method usually helped when it came to your anxiety. But this time it made you feel worse.

The thoughts you tried to hold back hit you all at once. What the hell are you doing here? Why did you say yes? You have feelings for Vessel, but were they really enough for you to come all the way here? And if Noah had asked you before he did, would this be a completely different situation? Most certainly it’d be very different, but you didn’t even want to think about that.

You stared blankly at the water that has gone from warm to a cooler temperature and left your fingers pruned. Your foot moved through the water and you watched how swiftly it moved through the liquid, it was easy. If only your life could be like that, an ease to move through. But at this point it feels like you're moving through setting concrete.

And what if Vessel only wanted you here because he was bored and wanted something to do until he went back on tour? What if all those small things he did for you was just a facade? The second he leaves for tour is the second he stops caring about you, the second that all this gets thrown away and you’re left struggling once again to find the type of affection he gave you. He could so easily walk out of your life like so many have done before, what could possibly make him any different?

Hands gripped your arms tightly, pulling you out from the trance you’d put yourself in. Your eyes burned underneath the water when you opened them and your lungs screamed at you for air. Your body was pulled up from the position it had sunk into, allowing for you to take a deep breath and wipe the water from your eyes. Vessel was yelling but it sounded muffled to you, his eyes were wide with fear as you watched his mouth to try to figure out what he was saying.

“…Y/N please just focus on me.” You perked up once your ears had unclogged themselves and his voice was finally audible. “Jesus Christ you gave me a fucking heart attack.” His hand gripped tightly on your forearm, seemingly holding you up from slipping back under.

“What happened?” You asked. The confusion you felt from how you even ended up like that in the first place was all that came to mind as you tried piecing everything together.

Vessel sighed and pushed your hair behind your ear. “I don’t know. I came up here to tell you dinner was ready, when you didn’t answer I got a bad feeling and walked in on you just under the water and not moving.” He sounded terrified and looked like it too, he had tears threatening to break from his eyes as he spoke. “Why? Why would you try to do this to yourself?”

“I-’’ You didn’t know how to answer that. “I didn't intend for that to happen.” The look on his face broke your heart. He looked like he was so afraid to lose you, and in that moment you hated yourself for all that had run through your mind just moments before. His eyes searched yours for more than what you were giving him, he eventually gave up and sighed, pulling you to him and kissing your forehead.

“We can talk about that whenever you're ready.” He says quietly, holding you as tightly as he could. “Let’s get you out before you start turning blue again.” He lightheartedly said, standing up with his hands still wrapped around your arms which brings you to stand with him. He guided you to step out of the tub and onto the mat on the floor, taking the towel that was set aside for you and wrapping it around your body. He had you sit down on the toilet so he could towel dry your hair, his torso was pushed against your back as he carefully ran the towel through the strands.

“I can do this myself, Ves.” You say as he searched for a comb.

“You’re a delicacy at the moment. Anyways, I don’t mind it one bit.” He rummaged through the drawers and cabinets, looking for where you put your comb.

“Middle drawer on the left, it’s purple.” He happily pulled the drawer open and grabbed the comb, admiring the shade of purple that it was. He came back to you and gently ran it through your hair, being careful not to tug too hard when it came to any knots that formed. He focused until each strand was pristine and knot free, placing a kiss on the back of your head as a way to appreciate his work.

“What drawer do you keep your pajamas in?” He asked as he went towards the bedroom.

“Oh Ves please, you do not need to do any more for me.” You stood to protest him, following him out of the bathroom and into the room. “I promise you I will not break in half if you don’t help me with everything. You’ve done a lot already.” Your hand wrapped around his arm, squeezing it gently to reassure him. His eyes focused on your fingers that rested on his skin. He took a deep shaky breath, then stepped away from the drawers to let you find your pajamas.

You found your favorite t-shirt to sleep in; a very large gray shirt with a dinosaur couple on it sharing a spaghetti noodle like in Lady and The Tramp. You threw the towel that was wrapped around you onto the floor, pulling the shirt over your head and searching for a pair of boxers you loved to wear.

Picking up the towel to put it back to hang up in the bathroom, you could feel him watching your every movement. As you walked back into the room his eyes were stuck on you and not leaving anytime soon. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed against his chest as he watched.

“So what did you make for dinner?” You asked, ignoring the fact that he would not take his eyes off of you.

He stood up straight and cleared his throat, eyes finally moving elsewhere. “I made potato soup. I thought the weather today made it a perfect soup for dinner kind of day.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Little do you know… I love potato soup.” His eyes lit up so bright when you said that, almost like a kid who just walked into a candy store. “But will yours be as good as my mom’s?”

“Guess we’ll have to find out.” Vessel motioned you to leave the room first, quickly following behind you. The aromas coming from the kitchen were enough to make your stomach grumble loudly. Perhaps not eating all day wasn’t the smartest idea, but that just meant you could savor this dinner as much as you wanted to.

You stepped into the kitchen and let out a gasp at the sight in front of you; Vessel had gone out of his way to make the little table in the corner look like you were about to dine in a fancy restaurant. He covered the wooden table with a white cloth, pulled out some china that looked like it’d never been used before. There was a bottle of wine on the table waiting to be poured into the glasses nearby. You glanced down at what you were wearing and felt a tad embarrassed, maybe that’s why he wanted to choose your pajamas…

“You like it?” He asks.

“I love it,” you respond, walking to one of the chairs to take a seat. Before you could even reach for the back of it, Vessel had pulled it out for you and waited for you to sit before pushing it back to the table. “Did you really do all of this for me?”

He smiled as he walked away to grab the pot of soup. “Maybe.” He filled a bowl for you and then for himself, settling down across from you with an expectant expression on his face. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

“I was waiting for you before I started, I never eat until whoever is in my company is ready to.” You say taking the spoon and picking up the thick liquid, taking a quick whiff of it before putting it in your mouth. His eyes were on you again as you let your tastebuds decide whether it was better than mom’s or not. “Hmm.”

Vessel raised a brow as you teased. “Did I beat your mum’s recipe or not?”

“Woah, slow down there pretty boy. Give me some time to decide.” You chuckled while taking another scoop of the soup to your mouth and tasting it again. It felt like you were a food critic and Vessel was the chef whose reputation depended on your word, you honestly found it adorable. “I’ll give it a 9.5/10.” His face lit up as he smiled wide, finally digging into the food himself.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence as you ate. The slight tension that was between the two of you after the bathtub incident had gone away, at least you felt like it wouldn’t exactly be the main topic of conversation at the dinner table. But, you remained silent anyways, not wanting the word bath to come out of his mouth.

—————————

Two days have passed since then, no word about it has been spoken between you guys. Vessel seemed to not want to start that conversation and just leave it to you to bring it up whenever you're ready, if you’d ever be ready.

You spent a lot of time cooped up in his house, sitting in silence with a book in hand and enjoying each other's company. It was really nice. A refreshing feeling in your life compared to every other failed attempt at something you would even consider a “relationship”.

He’d cook for you and you’d watch, putting random songs on that made him laugh each time he’d turn around and notice you dancing around. You’d stand behind him and place your hands on his hips, moving them around to try and get him to dance along as he laughed even harder at your attempt.

That was one of the things you were really starting to like about him; his laugh. The way his nose scrunched up and how tight his eyes would close as he let out the most genuine, hearty laugh you’ve ever heard. The times where he’d just make absolutely no noise and stand there bent over with his hands on his knees after you did something stupid were your favorite.

It was something you knew you couldn’t deny for longer, how you felt for Vessel. It was becoming so obvious to yourself now and more than likely he picked up on it too, certainly he had feelings for you as well and he was not afraid to show you that he did. But there was that part of you that was slightly afraid to admit it and show him the same.

Your eyes flickered from the words on the pages in front of you when Vessel’s phone lit up on the table beside him, a sigh coming from him as it disrupted the focus he had on the book he read. You went back to yours, realizing that you’ve completely lost where you even remembered reading last.

You rested your head back against the couch and put the book in your lap, looking over at Vessel as he smirked at his phone while typing away. You watched curiously as he paused, seemingly waiting for a response, then quickly typing again. He glanced at you while you watched and a smile now sat on his face. “How do you feel about clubbing?”

You perked up in interest. “Did it a bit when I was younger, why?”

“Just got a text from III asking if we’d want to join him and the others at a club tonight.” He sat back on his side of the couch, mimicking how you were currently sitting. “He kinda wants to meet you. As does II and IV…”

“They know about me?” You ask in surprise.

He rolled his eyes. “Well duh, Y/N. They’re my closest friends, of course they know about the beautiful American girl staying in my house.” He ended his sentence with a wink that made you blush.

“As long as I get to meet your friends and spend time with you, I think clubbing sounds like fun.” You smiled and then laughed as the thought hit you. “And maybe I’ll be able to get your ass to dance with me.”

“I’m always in the middle of making food when you try, would you rather I let it burn so I could dance with you?” Vessel is quick to sass you as he stands up and stretches. “I’ll call an Uber at 9, does that give you enough time to get ready?”

You glanced at your phone to check the time, it was only 7 o’clock. “That gives me plenty.” You hopped up from your spot on the couch, walking past Vessel and giving him a kiss on the cheek that flushed immediately after your touch.

As you headed back to the room to get ready, you couldn’t remember if you packed any clothes you’d consider clubbing attire. When you used to go all the time as a teen with all your friends, you’d pick the sluttiest thing in your closet, which would always help you get into the club despite the bouncer’s suspicion on your fake ID.

You rummaged through the closet, looking for your dresses you knew you’d packed. And nothing. Absolutely nothing. Instead of giving up hope on your past self for packing everything, you go to the dresser drawer where you had put away the skirts you took with you.

The gasp that escaped you when you realized you had packed the one skirt you’d been dying to wear came into view; it was a black leather mini skirt that zipped up on the side. You threw it onto the bed as you ran back to the closet, searching for the perfect top to go with it. You settled for a black lace bodysuit that was long sleeved and decided putting on your platform calf boots would complete the outfit well.

You never got the chance to dress up and look nice anymore, so you decided it was best to go all out. Even if you were going to be in a dark club where the only people who would be able to see your makeup would have to be standing nose to nose with you. At least you knew Vessel might like it.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror and started your makeup, taking a little bit of time to try and make sure you didn’t fuck up the eyeliner and your eyebrows too much. It was refreshing getting ready like this and feeling like your younger self again. It didn’t take long for your makeup to come out the way you wanted it to, a good sign that tonight was going to be a great one.

Finding your phone, you check the time; 8:45, not bad for being rusty in your makeup abilities. You grabbed a small purse you like to use occasionally and put your wallet and phone inside.

“Ves?” You called out as you spritzed your perfume on.

“Yeah?” His voice echoed back from his room.

“I’m ready whenever you are.” You left your room and entered his room, eyes growing wide once you saw what he was wearing; black skinny jeans paired with a black t-shirt and leather jacket, his black boots completing the attire. “Are we that emo or what?” Despite the chuckle that came from you, it was hard to take your eyes off of him and how fucking attractive he looked. He turned around and did a double take at you, his eyes wandering over every part of your outfit and face.

“Funny thing is, we’re all just going to be a group of emos.” He smirked as his eyes glanced at the amount of your thighs that were exposed by the skirt for the millionth time. “I’ll order an Uber now since I’m all good to go, and also let III know that we’re heading out.” Vessel stepped closer to you as he tapped away on his phone, after a minute he put it back in his pocket and noticed how close he’d accidentally got to you. His eyes lingered on yours again as he pushed your hair behind your ears, his fingers trailing along your jawline and lifting your chin a bit to examine your makeup. “You look good, really good.”

Your cheeks heated up as he kept his fingers on your chin, his thumb ran over your bottom lip with a little force. “Are you trying to smudge my lipstick?” You asked, lightly swatting his hand away.

A smirk curled at his lips. “I’m just testing it to see if it’ll stay after a makeout or two.” He grinned cheekily as you shoved at his chest making him stumble back a tad. His phone buzzed in his pocket, the notification coming from the Uber informing you that they had arrived.

You followed Vessel downstairs, letting him lead the way to the car waiting outside for the two of you. The Uber rolled down the window and double checked that she was picking up the right people, after Vessel confirmed it was right he opened the back door for you to get inside, letting you settle before shutting it behind you.

The Uber turned in her seat and looked at your outfit. “My dear you are beautiful, I love the top.” You smiled wide at her compliment and thanked her, returning the compliment on her brighter hair color.

Vessel joined you in the backseat and the driver pulled off, putting on some music for you to listen to. Vessel’s hand rested on your thigh as he stared out the window, you watched him as the passing lamp posts illuminated his face ever so often and he would tap his fingers along with the beat of the song playing on the radio. You placed your hand on top of his, pushing your fingers between his and encasing his hand with yours. The size difference was a little silly, especially since yours was on top, but it didn’t matter to you.

The drive took only thirty minutes from his house to the club that was in the middle of London. It was pretty packed already, a line was extended out the door as a bouncer slowly let people in.

“You can drop us off here,” Vessel says. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Thank you honey!” You say as you got out of the car and waved to the sweet driver. Vessel’s hand rested on your hip as he guided you to the sidewalks, his eyes scanning around for the familiar sight of his friends. The brisk air hitting your bare thighs sent shivers up your spine as you found yourself trying to look for them too, but realizing you had no idea what they looked like.

You noticed the group of three guys standing together, one waving over at the two of you and the others in a conversation with one another. Vessel’s pace quickened a bit as you grew closer to the group, watching as the tallest of them was giving Vessel a thumbs up the entire time.

“Gentlemen.” Vessel says sarcastically, earning a glare from the one who stood more eye level with you. “This is Y/N.” He motioned to you. “Y/N, this is III, II and IV, my bandmates.” The tallest out of the four of them and the one giving Ves a thumbs up was III, a bright smile on his face as he reached to shake your hand. The shortest (and probably the one who looked the most innocent) was II, he took your hand in his and kissed it after saying a hello. IV is who you stood eye level with but only because of the shoes you were wearing. Instead of taking your hand in his, he opted for pulling you in for a hug.

“I’m a hugger, sorry.” He says as he felt you tense up a bit, not expecting a hug.

You just smiled and hugged him back. “That’s alright, hugs are never a bad thing.” IV pulled away with a grin on his face and turned his attention to your outfit, he gave you the “okay” symbol with his hand and a nod of approval.

“Let’s get inside as soon as possible before you freeze.” II pointed out the fact that you were shivering, leaving Vessel to swiftly put his jacket over your shoulders and wrap his arm around you to pull you into him. “I was waiting for you to do that for her.”

“Shut up.” Vessel said as he turned to the line. It had shortened quite a bit since you’d arrived, now only a couple of people stood waiting to be let in. Thank goodness because it was really cold out and you needed a drink.

Luckily the bouncer just glanced at all of your IDs and let you inside, he clearly had enough of dealing with people for the night and at this point did not care who he let in. III had taken over leading the group through the club as he had a clear path splayed out in front of him of where he wanted to go. He stopped at a larger booth towards the middle of the club that was pushed further away from where the dance floor was in comparison to some other booths. He flung himself in and sat in the middle, letting II and IV fill in next to him. Vessel motioned for you to sit and he followed, squishing you a bit against his shoulders and IV’s.

A waiter had come over and III was shouting an order for shots over the loud music, giving him a thumbs up as he walked away. You sat back and listened as the boys caught up with each other, constantly yelling back and forth with Vessel occasionally leaning against you in order to hear II a little better.

Once the first round of shots arrived, you had become part of the conversation as it moved onto concerts, a topic you were very familiar with. You all cheered each other with your shots, then threw it back into your mouth. The liquor burned at your esophagus as you did your best not to make any faces at it. After not drinking as much as you used to, you weren’t exactly that great at hiding the fact that you hated tequila.

“Are you not one that likes tequila?” III shouts to you.

“I’m not one to do tequila shots.” You laugh at yourself, the others join you. Vessel draped his arm over your shoulders, his fingers traced delicate patterns on the fabric of your body suit. His face was close to yours, as you felt his lips grazing against your cheek.

The boys cheered on the waiter as he brought two more rounds of shots for the table. Vessel laughed at them as they downed them with ease, you on the other hand watched in jealousy. You brought two shot glasses to sit in front of you, taking one in your hand and throwing it back. The burning wasn’t as bad as the first time, but it still made you make a face.

“You’re keeping them down at least, that’s a good sign.” II shouted from across the table. “Please do not throw up. I don't want to see that.”

You shook your head. “Oh I don’t throw up anymore. Too many years of partying has turned my stomach to steel when it comes to most alcohols.”

“Most.” IV teased. You gave him a good shove as you raised the next shot to your lips, this third one going down a lot easier. “See you just needed to warm up a bit, miss party girl.”

“That’s exactly right.” You said, leaning back to rest against Vessel’s chest. He held you close with one hand that pressed gently against your stomach, you both sat and listened to the conversation the others had. It was interesting to see how they interacted in a regular setting compared to on stage, their personalities were so different but yet at the same time, you could see their stage presences shine at some points.

The first notes of the song that you always had to dance to when you were in a club began to play: S&M by Rihanna. You were a basic woman, you hear Rihanna come on you have to dance along to it. You sat back up quickly, turning to push at Vessel to get him out the booth.

“Move I need to go dance.” You say, shoving him closer to the edge.

“You like this song?” He asks with a smug look on his face, leaving the booth and putting a hand out for you to take.

“I love it, actually.” You say as you stand up. “And you’re going to dance with me.” Your grip tightened on his hand and you pulled him to the dance floor, where many people crowded around and danced to the beat of the song. Pushing your way through a bit until you found a spot you liked, letting go of Vessel’s hand so you could move around. The alcohol in your system really had you feeling yourself and the confidence boost it had given you was like no other, allowing you to move your hips around like no one was watching.

Your eyes flickered up to meet with Vessel’s, noticing they were fixated on you as you danced around. You smirked as you took one step forward and pressed your body against his, taking his hands to rest on your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his face closer to yours, your nose brushing against his.

In one sudden gesture, Vessel had flipped you around and pressed his chest into your back. His one hand now resting on your lower stomach, and the other? He couldn’t help but place it around your neck. Your eyes closed at the light pressure he was applying on it, a new found butterfly fluttering around in your stomach from the sensation.

The song ended and transitioned into another one that wasn’t as fun to dance to. You pulled Vessel off the floor and back to the booth, noticing another round of shots on the table. You laughed at how pleased III looked with himself and choice of liquor.

“Are you ever going to order an actual drink?” You shout at him, noticing that II and IV had separate drinks they were sipping at.

“No! Those aren’t as fun.” He protested.

You shook your head. “Well you have fun with that, I’m going to find the restroom.” They all waved you off, except for Vessel who landed a smack on your ass as you walked away.

The restrooms weren’t too hard to find as the bright neon sign practically blinded you no matter where you stood in the club. You only went in there to check on your makeup, specifically because of Vessel choking you a bit as you danced. Your eyes teared up some and you couldn’t help but wonder if it messed up your eyeliner at all. Standing at the mirrors you checked your eyes closely, noticing nothing smudged. Perfect. Your hair got a little messed up though, but nothing that didn’t add to the intensity of your look already.

Your ears were ringing from being around the loud music and your throat felt a little scratchy, probably from the amount of yelling you’ve been doing trying to have a conversation with the group. Perhaps a club wasn’t the best choice for your first time meeting Vessel’s band… oh well you were having a great time and couldn’t really care about the practicality of it all.

Once you were satisfied with yourself, you left the bathroom and returned to the loud club. Squeezing past multiple people making out along the back wall and eyeing the small group of people doing lines, you accidentally bumped into someone while you weren’t paying attention.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You shout to the man, hoping you didn’t spill anything he was holding. He turned around and the expression on his face went from annoyed to elated.

“Is alrigh’ darlin’.” He slurred, patting your shoulder. You gave him a smile and went to head to the booth, when you realized he would not let you move from in front of him. “Where… do ya think you’re goin’? Come dance with me…” His hand gripped your shoulder tightly as he pulled you towards the dance floor.

“No, I’m not interested. I need to get back to my friends.” You pry at his hand that was seemingly glued to you, his grip was that strong. “Man let go of me!” That only spurred him to drag your body to be pressed uncomfortably tight against him, the smell of alcohol poisoning your airways as he breathed heavily on you.

A loud smack and a sharp pain rang from your ass as his hand came down hard against it, giving it a painful squeeze afterwards. You were quick to react; shoving him away as hard as you could muster and then landing a hard blow on his face with your fist. The people around you gasped as he fell to the floor covering his nose that was bleeding profusely. Your arm raised again as you stepped over him, about to give him another for good measure, until a hand wrapped around your fist. You turn around and see that Vessel was standing behind you, his eyes burning into you.

“Good god woman.” II said as he stood by Vessel’s side, analyzing the damage you did.

III and IV came over and pulled us away. “Security is coming, we gotta bounce.” Vessel kept you close as you followed the others out the back door of the club and into the freezing night. You walked a few blocks until it was decided security wouldn’t go that far looking for you.

“What the hell happened?” Vessel was the first to speak, his voice remaining calm as he could tell you were shaken up.

“Um-” You begin, but cut yourself off as you hissed at the pain that started to radiate from your fist. “I was coming back from the restroom when I accidentally bumped into that guy. I said sorry and tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. He had such a tight grip on my shoulder and he wanted me to dance with him. He then held me super tight against his body and smacked my ass hard, I’m probably going to have a bruise.” You glanced at your hand that had a splatter of the man’s blood on it. “So I just punched him.”

Vessel held your hand gently as he examined it, careful to not press too hard against your bruising knuckles. “You okay?” He whispered.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay once I take some pain meds.” You shrug.

“Y/N.” His voice was stern and his eyes burrowed deep into yours. “I didn’t mean like that.” It clicked in your mind, he was asking about how you were mentally. You glanced at the others that stood around, clearly worried about you as well. All you could do was shrug in response, not exactly feeling like breaking down crying in the middle of a London alley right now.

Vessel nodded and glanced at the boys over his shoulder, giving some sort of unspoken message to them. “Let’s get you back home then, yeah?”

You smiled at him. “That would be wonderful.”

[meltedbluecaterpillar]

L'appel Du Vide

ch. i - you are here! - ch. iii - ch. iv - ch. v - ch. vi - ch. vii - ch. viii - ch. ix - ch. x

A/N: It’s time for an update. Have a happy Halloween, I will be busy that day. I also made a playlist for this fanfic. Please feel free to listen as you read. -> Spotify

tags: Rook Hunt x fem!reader, urine (non sexual), mentions of vomit, blood wc: 4.4k+

You stared at the empty plastic water bottle now tipped over on its side. Having already finished it when the blond left you to your own devices. You waited for the floor above you to become completely silent and still before trying to free yourself from this nightmare. You made an attempt to tug the rope around your ankles loose. But you quickly realized that you had to get your hands freed first. That man had tied your wrists together and made it impossible for you to untie them yourself. Not without outside assistance from a person or maybe even a sharp enough object. 

The most useful thing you could do was hold the water bottle (barely). And with your foot holding the book open on the floor, flip through the musty, slightly yellowed pages. You decided to read the book your captor gave you to kill time. You frowned softly at the little comics in between the French lessons. Your mind drifted off to the world you once knew. Thinking about how crazy this story would be when you were free to tell it. The nurses that worked overnight when you cleaned would want every horrible detail. You had no clue how long you had been missing, but surely someone had started to look for you. What about your bills? Your job? Your parents obsessing over your safety? People must be already looking for you. This will soon be a distant trauma memory you can share in therapy ten years from now. 

You flipped through the book some more with your eyebrows knit together. Some of the phrases had been scribbled out with black pen. In the thin margin of the page were tiny notes in French. You made a mental note to revisit before closing the book and glancing around the large, empty space.

When your captor left to ‘get lunch’ he didn’t mention how long he would be leaving you alone. But you had time to soak everything in now. This had to be his house. You were tied up in an unfinished basement somewhere in the world that could have snow. There were a lot of potential places, but your captor was fluent in French. You remembered the sound of crashing waves before you woke up again… He mentioned having you imported…

Are you even in France? Your head was starting to spin as you racked your brain for all of the places you could imagine with basements and French. Unfortunately, without knowing what the world was like outside of the basement, that would be far too challenging. Your body began to tremble from the cold air hugging your skin as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. Maybe there was a chance you were still in the states. This guy was just trying to make you feel insane. That’s how kidnappers work. 

After blinking away your tears and giving a small sniffle, you took in a slow deep breath and looked around again with a sharp exhale. The unfinished basement wasn’t very big and it was shockingly clean. Your captor must have tidied up for your arrival, or he never had used this space before now. There are 18 steps taken to reach a door at the top from what you’ve counted. So if you ever count more or less, something should be wrong. 

There was a small window leading to the outside world. It was too high to reach without something to stand on. It gave you natural lighting so you could at least see the sunlight and guess what time it was. The man left to bring you lunch. So with the position of the sun and the shadows on the floor, it was most likely between 9am and 12pm. Maybe a little later. The window might be too small to squeeze out of. But if you could get it pried open enough, you should be able to stick your arm through and hopefully get someone’s attention. Your eyes trailed from the window to the center of the room only a few feet away from you.

The wooden chair.

Your heart started to race as you nodded silently to yourself. This could be easier than expected. You scrunched your ice cold toes tight before relaxing again. Freedom was a conceivable possibility now. With a quick sweep of your eyes you didn’t see anything else worth looking at in the cellar you were captive in. You thought back to the patient's room you cleaned before all of this happened. The man who claimed to have fallen madly in love with you was previously staying in that room. Your captor could be him. It was very likely at this point. But how he found out so much was beyond your understanding. The man was also fluent in French but not English. Unless he was lying? The nurse that mentioned him had said he had a bad head injury and was confused. Maybe he’s mistaking you for someone he gave the pet name ‘mon lapin’ to? That has to be the case. 

Finally, you needed to do something to ensure survival until you could make your escape. You didn’t want to have sex with this guy if you didn’t have to. Spreading your legs for a captor is always seen as a last resort. He comes off as stable enough for a conversation and he must be intelligent if he was able to successfully kidnap you without anyone noticing. So you couldn’t outsmart him. Not right now at least. But, if you could get close to him and build trust you could ease your way to freedom. Or even hold out long enough for someone to save you. Just have conversations with him. Your captor seems like he enjoys chatting. Especially if you show him you are willing to learn and speak his language. 

You looked down at the book again, awkwardly fumbling with your hands and feet to pry the book open to read over the slightly yellowing pages. They were all basic, the usual first intro’s to the language. Good morning, good night. Please, thank you. All things that you assume that guy might like to hear. “S… Sill vow plate? … Say… See voo play?” You practiced quietly, eyeing the pronunciations with caution. Learning Morse code really would be easier to learn than French. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since your captor had left. But you finished the book. Three times. The shadows had moved to stretch across the cellar floor as you shuddered and sniffed from the chill. There wasn’t anything in the book that told you how to beg for clothes. So you would have to convince the blond in English. 

You jolted at the sound of a door opening above. Your head snapped upwards towards the wooden ceiling with your eyes widened. Heavy boots crossing the floor and the sound of something big being dragged behind them. Your mind blanked, your mouth fell open. “Hello?! Is someone there?!” You called out hurriedly, trying to get to your feet but miserably failing. Landing on your shoulder with a pain shooting through you. You squirmed pathetically with a groan of pain. You made it back onto your butt, flinching at the cold, hard floor. You squeaked at the sound of whatever the boots were dragging, suddenly hit the floor with a loud thud.

The boots were quick, coming closer to the staircase. Like they were filled with a renewed vigor. The basement door flew open and you felt your heart start to sink, your posture sagging in misery. “Mon lapin!” Your captor called out cheerfully. Anxiety filled your stomach and your body began to sweat from stress. Of course, he’s back with lunch. “I come down to you!” He sang, the door never closed as he began to descend the wooden staircase. The sudden smell invading the cellar made you gag. The remnants of your apple slices, water, and stomach acid made its way up to your throat. You quickly swallowed it down with a scrunch of your face from disgust. He reached the bottom of the stairs, waving excitedly in a new set of clothes. 

Firstly, he stunk of urine. Non human urine. His face was slathered in soil, he had dressed himself in black and green camouflage. You could see blood staining parts of his skin and clothes. Lunch must be very fresh. “I have missed you! Were you good?” He asked as he approached, and you retched again, hurriedly swallowing the vomit before it came out. “Oh my god what’s that smell?” You choked, tears pricking your eyes as you turned away from him while sniffling with despair. “Smell? Ehhh… Urine, from the forest deer. And the blood smell. Forgive me, mon lapin.” He chuckled softly and picked up the now empty water bottle he had left you with. You could feel him staring at you, clearly amused by your miserable reactions. You struggled to keep yourself from gagging again, curling into a tight ball as you pressed yourself against the cold, stone wall. “Please get away from me!” You sobbed with tears rolling down your face, your eyes now squeezed shut as the blond laughed again. “You dislike? Désolé, mon lapin.” The tone was like soft satin, easing your nerves as his heavy boots turned away and he made his way up the wooden stairs. “I come back with lunch! J'ai apporté un cadeau!” He sang from the top of the stairs, leaving you alone in the cellar. Shivering with your stomach twisting into a discomforted knot.

You were grateful that you didn’t vomit. Being tied up and naked would make it impossible to clean yourself. And you didn’t want this guy to touch you if it was avoidable. A sudden thought came to mind, making your eyes widen fearfully. What about the bathroom? What about showering? Your bladder suddenly began to ache, and you clenched tightly with a sigh that melted into a sob. You wanted to go home. 

You cried quietly to yourself, sniffling and wailing into your bound hands as the blond created a ruckus above you. The sounds of something being cut, more dragging, dishes and water running. The smell of piss and blood had dissipated, and instead a more welcoming scent began to linger into the cellar. Onions and pepper, the scent of vegetables and… An odd smell. Like something wild in the forest, a gamey smell with a hint of blood. But among the other scents, you weren’t left with a looming anxiety. Just discomfort. Some time passed, it felt like an hour or longer. Your eyes drifted shut and you felt exhausted. Occasionally you would peek and see the shadows stretched farther across the floor, the sky much brighter each time. You gasped in surprise as the blond whistled down to you, your nerves all zapping to life. “Heure du déjeuner!” He cooed and made his way down the 18 wooden stairs. 

His clothes were different. The blond ponytail was missing, showing you a terrible bob cut he must have tried chopping himself. A tight, navy blue long sleeved shirt, and black pants. On his feet were white bunny slippers. You wanted to laugh or even crack a smile, but you were far too distressed. “You are hungry?” He asked as he approached with a white ceramic bowl, a silver spoon poking out as the scent of whatever he was cooking upstairs tickled your tastebuds. In his other hand was a glass of water. Your mouth began to pool with saliva, your stomach growling in excitement. After eating nothing but apple slices this morning, and nothing during the morning of your capture, your body was craving sustenance. He kneeled in front of you, his expression kind as you watched him with puffy red eyes. 

“Yeah…” You whispered, eyeing him up and down as you slowly uncurled and rested against the wall. “Not poison.” He tilted the bowl so you could see inside and placed the glass of water on the ground. A reddish colored stew. Brown chunks of meat, potatoes, carrots, onions, and assorted seasonings. This looked more like dinner than lunch. You looked at him suspiciously feeling your heart thud with anxiety. When he gave you water earlier in the day, he clarified it wasn’t poison. He did it again. “I taste and you see.” He offered and took the spoon, mixing the stew around as he settled to rest on his knees in front of you. The blond lifted the spoon, blowing softly before easing a chunk of meat and carrot into his mouth. He looked ecstatic from the flavor. “Ahhh très bien! It is better than before!” He cheered with excitement, his pale cheeks becoming pink as you eyed the spoon he pulled from his mouth. “You will taste.” He hummed, getting another spoonful and blowing gently. “Ouvrir” He instructed, and you parted your lips shyly. It was hard to ignore that you would be swapping spit so soon. 

But that thought vanished and your eyes widened in awe. The stew was extremely good. A hint of bay leaves, the softened vegetables and even the unusual meat bursted with flavor. It warmed you from within and left your stomach snarling for more. “What… What kind of meat-”

“Flesh of deer.” He responded happily, feeding you again with that same gentle expression. You weren’t sure if you were uneasy or appreciative of his smiling face. You couldn’t imagine what he looked like angry, or if you wanted to. You ate quietly as your brain racked with questions. This was your chance to try talking with him. “What should I call you?” You asked with a soft swallow, watching him scoop more stew onto the spoon and blow on it before feeding you. “Call me?” He repeated, appearing confused by your question with his thin eyebrows knitting together. 

The book. You glanced down at the book you studied this morning before looking up at him nervously. If you show him you’re using the book he left you, that would warrant brownie points right? “Um… Qwell ey vetray nom?” You did your best to pronounce the phrase with a slight cringe. You were sure you said something wrong. But the blond was pleased. He even chuckled with a soft shake of his head. “Votre accent est joli, mon lapin. Je souris à cause de toi.” The hand holding the spoon now rested over his heart. He appeared satisfied with a dreamy expression.

He mentioned your accent, so you must have done a terrible job pronouncing the phrase. But your captor was more focused on your willingness to learn French. “You say Rook. Like the… Tower chess piece.” He motioned to his head like he was putting on a hat. You nodded quickly in understanding. Rook cannot be his actual name. Unless his parents hated him. But at least you were getting somewhere. “Do you know my name?” You asked and watched as Rook looked at you with parted lips, preparing to speak before he glanced away playfully. His eyes darted back to yours and he held a hand to his ear, leaning forward. “Français s'il vous plaît?” He sang and you processed the phrase before looking down at the book, then back to him. “Is it… Qwell es mon nom?” You asked with a small flinch trying to piece the question together. You weren’t a linguistics person but you tried. “Tu es mon lapin.” Rook responded with a nod.

So he doesn’t plan to use your real name. Just ‘mon lapin’. You heard of victims being captive so long they forget their real names. You couldn’t allow that to happen. “I see…” You murmured as he left the bowl on the ground beside him and picked up the glass of water. Your lips parted as he gave you sip after sip, and the two of you continued in silence. 

Eating. Drinking. It was something you always did independently. Having a man you didn’t know bind you and do it for you was a unique experience you weren’t sure if you were happy to have or not. He could let you starve and waste away, or leave the bowl on the ground for you to eat from like some dog. But here he is, hand feeding you with patience you wouldn’t expect. The bowl was scraped clean and you felt satisfied, now being given the last few sips of water from the glass. 

“Are you happy?” Rook asked, his summer green eyes stared through you. Lacking light or any real emotion behind them. It was frightening. You chose to nod in response. No reason to fight right now. “Thank you for the lunch…” You murmured awkwardly as he smiled wide and reached a hand out towards you. He rubbed the top of your head before giving you two firm pats. “Vous êtes le bienvenu.” His tone was gentle as he rose to his feet with the empty dishes. “Now for the reward!” He was full of energy now as he gave you a small bow of his head and retreated up the stairs. 

You looked around again, glancing up at the ceiling as there was shuffling and the sound of clinking glasses and running water. When he returned, he was holding a large, pale pink gift bag in one hand and he had a book tucked under his arm. Rook sat in the chair across from you, looking down at your curled up figure with a smile. “I thought of you.” He spoke as he sat the book on his muscular thigh, balancing it before reaching into the gift bag. He pulled out what looked like a large dog bed. A plush pink fabric lined the inside, the outside was a soft cream color. “You will be down here until your room is finished.” He explained as he dropped the soft bed at his feet. Your heart began to pound and your mind started to race. 

Rook was going to eventually bring you upstairs with him. Next was a coloring book and a pack of 50 crayons. The design on the book was littered with cute, neon animals. Clearly for children. “Because I go places in the day. You will not be bored.” You were grateful to have some other entertainment other than a language book.

Next was something that left you with a sigh of relief. You finally got a shirt to wear. It was oversized. A plain vanilla color with a brown pelican printed on the left breast. It would be long enough to cover you at least to mid thigh. “I also give you this!” Rook now appeared bashful with a smile spread across his face and a soft rouge dusting his cheeks. The expression could only be seen as hunger. A suppressed appetite that made your stomach wind with discomfort. Held in his fingers was a pair of indigo colored panties. They looked plain other than a tiny white ribbon on the front. They appeared to be your size, maybe a little smaller. Something was better than nothing. “You may wear clothes. Your body… C'est magnifique… But indecent.” The tone of his voice soft as he neatly folded them and dropped them onto the dog bed along with the other items. 

You silently pouted, feeling disgusted with the way Rook spoke about your body. You didn’t choose to be naked. That was his fault. The choice of underwear was happily something you could live with. But seeing how visibly excited he was left you with a foul taste in your mouth. And the way he referred to you as ‘magnifique’ made your nose crinkle in displeasure.

The final thing in the bag made you frown with confusion. A box with an image of a small dog on the front. “What’s that?” You asked, a wave of anxiety washing over you as Rook tapped on the side of the box with a finger. “Toilet.” Your stomach dropped into your feet and your mouth became cotton dry. No way. You stared in horror at the box as the realization hit you. Puppy training pads. The thin sheets to housebreak dogs before they could learn to go outside. 

“Rabbits use litter box-”

“I am a human being!” You corrected angrily as Rook closed his mouth and watched you pull your knees closer to your chest. You grit your teeth in anger and disgust. You narrowed your eyes and watched as his expression shifted. He was frowning now, discontented with your now aggressive attitude. “You use that ugly language when we chat.” This voice rumbled, deep within his chest as you felt your posture start to sag. His lifeless eyes burned into your exposed skin. You looked down at your bound ankles. You were intimidated. “I dislike, just how you dislike toilet.” He let out an exasperated sigh. The building rage inside of you was difficult to contain. Keeping a human captive and speaking English are extremely different. “Litter box is messy. So this is better.” Rook made an attempt to explain his reason behind it.

You planned to put up with a lot for the sake of survival. But this was something you just couldn’t accept. You could feel tears of frustration forming in your eyes as Rook stood with his book and the box. The purple novel was left on the chair and he peeled open the cardboard container. “Pout if you like.” Rook was stern but gentle as he took one of the thin cotton sheets and laid it beside you as you cried in silence. He was still frowning, the pressure in your bladder was much stronger now. You needed to pee. “I come back.” Rook shook his head and took the box up the stairs with him. He wasn’t gone long. When he returned, he had a pack of what you could only assume was baby wipes. You swallowed, trying to ignore the pressure building below as you sniffled away a trickling string of snot. Rook sat in his chair and picked up the book which allowed you to see the title; Mood Indigo. The baby wipes rested on the concrete floor near his feet. The cellar was silent. Only filled with the occasional sound of flipping of pages and your soft whines of discomfort.

You squirmed against the cold wall. Your toes scrunching and unscrunching as you writhed in discomfort. Tears began to well in your eyes, your brain struggling to comprehend something as dehumanizing as pissing on a cotton floor pad meant to train a dog. “You need to pee?” Rook asked hopefully, you shook your head. You tried to distract yourself from the feeling. But the urge lingered, swelling inside of your stomach as your thighs began to tremble. If you held it any longer it would just come out of you anyway. “Rook?” You called his name through a strangled breath and looked up. His empty green eyes met your gaze, and he pointed at the small white puppy pad he laid out next to you. 

Thankfully you only needed to urinate. But it would be even better if embarrassment killed you, freeing you from this nightmare. “Rook- Please I’m sorry if I did anything to make you upset don’t- I don’t want to use a fucking puppy pad this is insane!” You sobbed, your pleas growing in strength and frustration started to build. Rook is your captor. He is not your friend. He is holding you against your will in a foreign place. “Please just take me upstairs and bring me back down! Please?!” You begged as tears began to roll down your burning cheeks. 

Watching in horror as Rook closed his eyes and held his hand to his ear. He was pretending to not understand. “Stop it- I know you can understand me! Your English is almost perfect!” You were struggling to hold it in. Your thighs shaking and tears streamed down your face as you felt your cramping walls start to relax on their own volition. You squirmed, quickly wriggling to the puppy pad on the hard, concrete floor. You sat, pulling your knees to your chest as you cried to yourself and stared at the rounded bones of your knees.

The cotton is much softer than the cellar flooring, but far more humiliating than you could have ever imagined. You wished that the food was poisoned. You wished that Rook would just kill you already. “Don’t look- Close your eyes!” You sobbed weakly with a surge of despair coiling around you. Your body finally betrayed you. Rook closed his book and reached for the pack of wipes. With his arms now crossed over his chest as he stood and walked over to you. Staring down at you with those eyes devoid of emotion with a smile crossing his lips. Watching you sob and cry as you urinated on the thin, cotton training pad.

You wished you would die. You could feel his eyes watching you from above as you sat in a puddle of your own urine, slowly being soaked into the cotton pad and leaving it stained a bright yellow color beneath you. “Cette tâche a-t-elle été difficile?” He asked from above as the plastic pack crinkled in his hand, but you didn’t have the energy to guess what he was saying. Nor did you care. You squealed when he had gotten down to your level, wrestling you out of the tight ball you curled into to instead stretch your body out. 

He was going to wipe for you. You clenched your hands into tight fists, turning away as your face burned in humiliation. Rook was humming again as he lifted your hips to rest over his muscular thigh. You heard the sound of the plastic crinkling, the soft tug of one of the wipes. And then, an uncomfortably cool sensation between your thighs. Rook would wipe your inner thighs and the delicate petals of your body until you were clean. Doing it so cautiously you were positive this was a sick form of molestation. Your stomach churned and you fought the urge to cry again until he finally let you go, and pulled away the stained puppy pad. “All done! Fin!” He smiled, but you laid on the floor, refusing to acknowledge him. He spoke, but you rolled onto your side and curled up into a ball again, staring blankly at your knees.

You wanted to go home.

[lettersfromverabookreview]

The Percy Jackson Saga

What a saga! I´ve still yet to finish it (while writing this, but i´ll post it when I finish it), but it´s SO fun, such a light read.

My history with Percy Jackson series has MANY comes and goes and it intercepts with many characters of my life that definitely not align with the Percy Jackson books at ALL. Seriously, If by any chance you´re a pre-teen reading this and you seem to be a bully who reads percy jackson, why do you think percy has SUCH a bad time in the school?? Anyway, getting over the personal comment….

I was mainly attracted to it because the series has come out (watch it !! its definitely interesting) but the nostalgia has come back with a kick and I definitely relate to little Percy, Annabeth and Grover (none of them would love me calling them little, but they are kids!!! Give them a SECOND of peace please), a little misunderstood, a little lost, not only when I was a teenager, but now on my 20s I can def relate (in a sense) to this lost feeling.

I doubt it ever goes away, Hell (or Hades?), Its difficult even to the gods what is happening in the books!! Everyone has to make tough decisions every once in a while, sometimes is whether to have the literal sky to help the goddess Artemis to fight Atlas, sometimes is leaving a job!

And I definitely relate to the strand of white hair after going trough the stress. And yes, everyone has a difficult choice and sometimes some are tougher than others, (like cmon… my job change example its what Ive been going through but Im guessing that maybe having the sky on your back may be a lil more difficult) but difficult choices are difficult choices, and these books have helped me, at least, to get anxious over whether Percy was going to be able to save his mom, instead of me getting anxious of my life choices.

I´m sure that anybody reading this may be going through a tough time (I mean, not to wish that upon you, and if you say “nah thanks i´m good, having the best time of my life” great for you!!) and i definitely believe that these books may seem focused for children, and yes, the repetition of what happened the last books that appears in every book after the first one, it sure is annoying, but overall its a huge break for the brain! Its a nice reading, a nostalgic one, and a hug to the heart.

A good reminder that good friends are worth lifting the sky and more, that families may not be what we always expect, that blue food is DOPE, that what we see may not always be what it truly is, that friends are not always what they seem to be, and that enemies (or people who we are taught are “enemies”) may not always be enemies.

[Finally, as a last comment since I´ve finished reading now] Sometimes it is not only good but necessary to go back to your child-self. To embrace new experiences with the forgiveness of a mother, the strength of an adult, but also for the inner ability of a kid that's learning how to walk, to stand immediately back up and continue trying. Embrace your strength but also your weaknesses, continue always learning, get around people you would sacrifice yourself for. Remember that its good and also essential to rest (sometimes on a lost island surrounded by the daughter of Kronos that's actually good and leaves you with a bunch of questions), and never forget to get back home (or at give out a sign when you're well so that everyone around you knows that you´re fine, turning the light blue of the Empire State can be an example).

If you´re going through high school, read this.

If you´re a lil lost, read this.

If you´re pretty sure you may be a lost child to a Greek god, yeah sure, but also read this.

If you wanna learn more about greek myths! I mean they are not super explained sometimes, but they sure deserve a good google search afterwards, which is good brain food!

If you really like sloooooow burn romances, yeah maybe you may like this (super far from the actual trama of the story but its so TRUE how long Percy takes to realize y´know…the thing)

If you like cute Cyclops, who are NOT murder machines, read this!!

And you must definitely read this if you like the water!! -Vera