#I’ve been avoiding this show all year for this exact reason

[family-tree-of-ships]

One conversation that has been ongoing for the past 1-2 weeks:

Me: you can’t just watch 5+ episodes of 911 a day, it’s bad for you

My brain: yeah, but there’s seven seasons, when am I watching them if not now??

Me: tomorrow?

My brain: yeah that’s cool and shit but that one episode is named in all caps, must be intense

Me: that’s exactly the message, but that doesn’t mean we gotta-

My brain: first five minutes

*two episodes later*

Me: I got a problem

My brain: yeah, yeah but what if this next one has a Buddie moment-

[bloop-bl00p]

In defense of Octavia

TW: Lots of Trauma Dumping, Mention of abuse

She’s been wronged way too many times in this fandom for some reason. Look at her vibing, how can you hate her?

I’m a fan of Helluva Boss, mainly because of its potential but the quality dropped dead in the second season. We’re gonna talk about a character I’ve seen other fans misinterpreting in favor of the so-great Prince Stolass.

I want to talk about her mainly because I do what I want and because after studying her character I just realized that she’s just like me. Especially regarding her relationship with her father, I see myself in my younger years.

All of that to say…

She has all the right to feel abandoned.

Octavia obliviously has a stronger bond with her father, it shows in her behavior and little background details

When she wants to draw her family, she draws her and Stolas, we mostly see her being happy with him which leads me to think that she’s emotionally neglected by Stella. To her, Octavia is just an ‘egg’ that fell off her and she doesn't care about the impact killing Stolas could have on her daughter.

Despite being emotionally absent, Stella has a much more physical presence than Stolas. Most of the time Stolas is alone in his castle which leads me to think that Octavia is somewhere else with Stella. They did mention the two went on a weekend somewhere. This leads us to this question…

How can Octavia feel more close to her father?

Here’s the thing, I see a lot of my family dynamic here. My mom doesn’t pay attention to me at all, she doesn't want me to bother her and she makes it clear. My dad, however, who’s absent like 90% of the time, always tried to spare time with me. He explained to me that he was working and why he was doing all of this (I was like barely ten) but it never prevented him from trying to play with me, sharing his hobbies, going on a walk, and else.

He was there emotionally and, as a kid who was bullied, had no friends at all, and a mother who didn't give a damn, I cherished this relationship.

I believe the exact same thing happened with Octavia, we never see her with friends or even outside the castle, she’s isolated. Stolas has Prince duties, we’ve seen him carry them in the shows, hence why he’s mostly absent leaving her with her mother. But, at least when she was a kid, he tried to do stuff bringing her to Loo-Loo Land or being the one to comfort her. That is why she clings to her father, he’s the only one who actually shows her love and she’s terrified of losing that.

Regarding her mother, Stella obliviously doesn't care about her so the feeling is reciprocated. From a narrative standpoint, Stella is an unpredictable force of nature getting angry for pretty much anything that doesn't go her way. So Octativa learned to not cross her mother's path.

I know this expression, this is the “Oh fuck… they’re at it again?” she’s used to her mother's constant screaming, she's used to her parents fighting.

She did say they were a time when a parent didn't hate each other, which to me refers to the time when Stolas tanked Stella’s abuse. But, that doesn’t mean that Stella wasn't abusing him in front of a younger Octavia, she’s erratic and they did imply that she can get physical in her toxic behavior. Since Stella was passive, it was probably mostly harmful comments.

Putting personal things here, my mom was also very abusive to my older sibling. Since I was extremely young I learned not to ‘be a burden’ to avoid being abused as well, which includes things like not talking to her unless she does it first. Whether Octavia is aware of the physical abuse or not, she must know enough to know that it’s a bad idea to annoy Stella.

This is the only picture where we see her seemingly having a good relationship with Stolas, which to me feels like she’s faking it considering all we know about the family.

She has a pretty shitty household but her relationship with her father make it bearable until Stolas did a 180°

He randomly started to prioritize Blitz and don’t spill me the bullshit of ‘he’s trying’ he stopped trying long ago.

Let’s analyze this episode by episode:

In Loo Loo Land, Stolas seemingly tries to rebuild a visibly strained relationship with his daughter by bringing her to a park she liked when she was a kid. To this, she immediately responds with an “I’m not 5 anymore.” and an “I rather kill myself.” There’s no room for miscommunication, she doesn't want to go there, and she won’t enjoy it as much as she did back then. Still, he decides to go there, showing that he doesn't listen, and, he brings the one the thing that is currently ruining his already horrible marriage because of his own actions. Blitzø.

He’s trying to spend time with his daughter after a long time (this is mentioned in the episode) and he decides to bring in that one guy he’s hooking up with to deliberately make sexual remarks about him in front of her.

She’s uncomfortable the whole time, not just because she allegedly doesn’t like listening to her father's comments but because she doesn't like the park. She said it, yet Stolas doesn't acknowledge it, he doesn't realize the faces she makes which are to me pretty communicative of her annoyance and discomfort.

This is not even subtle body language, yet he only notices it when she runs off. The worst part is that he still finds a way to think about Blitzø when his daughter leaves.

He looked upset that Blitzø didn't follow him! Did he expect that guy to pursue him constantly? He was in the middle of an argument with his daughter, I personally would have stepped away to give them space to talk and reconcile. But no, apparently Blitzø should be at his beck and call all the time.

But you know what, after all of this. He still apologized. That absolutely does not negate everything he did during the day but, at the end of it, he finally listened to her and even brought her to a place she actually wanted to be. Which is good, he acknowledged her discomfort and did something she liked.

Until Seeing Star.

Look I know Stolas was busy with Stella but he clearly doesn't care about her and her stuff.

Don’t tell me he couldn’t pinpoint Stella’s location with magic and teleport all of her belongings to her. Their discussion was barely about the furniture, he could have said that they were gonna be delivered and hung up the second he saw Octavia. Arguing with Stella is pointless, he’s the number one guy that should know that! Why does he continue to insult her, he’s just fuelling the fire!

Moving out her belongings would have been 10 times faster if he just hung up the phone, then he could have had a more mindful talk with Octavia without the constant bickering of his ex-wife.

But he didn't for some reason, fair enough, I guess. The writers do whatever they want. Anyway, Octavia got angry and ran to go see the stars on her own.

So, Stolas’ castle is in Pride but my point still stands, Octavia had the time to run from home and make the way all from her father's place to the city, find the specific building Blitzø held his organization in and Stolas didn't notice a thing.

You cannot tell me Stella managed to get his attention for that long AND you cannot tell me that his castle is close to the shitty disaffected building and the populace. His daughter ran off and he did not notice a thing.

Not only that but he has the nerve of blaming Blitzø for not watching the book. Like, dude! You should have watched your daughter instead!

Then he spills out more bullshit.

I don’t know Stolas, how could you possibly find her when you were shown to have countless abilities to do so?

Like bubbles projecting the image and locations of people.

Or that on time when you possessed corpses and one woman just to go full eldritch monstrosity just for one that one guy you’re cheating your wife with. And don’t whine about “They don’t love each other.” it’s still affecting his family, mainly his daughter so it’s still bad.

Of course, you do all of that without your grimoire without any problem, brushing it off with a…

I guess he forgot his ‘ways’ when it came to Octavia. But honestly, Loona literally found her easily just by looking at her Instagram account, couldn't he just call her or something? The girl had her phone the whole time and he didn't just think of calling her.

Me when I forget that I have teleportation power when I am in an enclosed space with nobody is looking.

You’re certainly not worrying right now. Via literally told him to his face that she was scared and he kept flirting with him even though he once again caused her to run away because of his neglect.

He’s not trying his best, THIS IS NOT TRYING!

No Loona, his daughter communicated very clearly issues related to their relationship, rather than reassuring her and being there for her as much as it’s realistically possible (he still has duties to carry), he gets in an avoidable petty fight with his ex and keeps an unhealthy dynamics with an imp he's been obsessing over. He doesn't focus, his priorities aren’t straight, and now Octavia feels abandoned.

I did mention that I had a good relationship with my father back then, but it stopped abruptly. His focus changed and he went out with friends after work and gradually stopped spending time with me. Until we never spent time together again, (to give you an idea the only moment where I could see him was in the morning for breakfast) now that can sound silly but I was a child, with no friends and a neglectful mom, losing the only good thing I had in life broke me. I knew his schedule, I knew he was spending time with work buddies and that just stung my self-esteem even more leaving me feeling like a burden when I was just a kid who wanted to feel love.

This is why I don’t like the “He’s trying.” I know what a trying struggling parent looks like and I know what happens when they stop. If you keep trying to do something and you’re constantly failing, either your technique isn’t the right one or you’re not and you’re convincing yourself you are.

And then there are people that’ll tell me that “He lived through the abuse of Stella for years for her.”

If you read all of this then I don’t feel like I need to explain how Octavia was at least partially exposed to Stella's toxic behavior and was affected by it.

For those who don’t know how it feels to live with an erratic mood-swinging person, it’s pure constant stress. You have to think constantly before you talk or move because you know that if you fuck up you’re gonna pay the price. And if you still eventually mess up you can never know with these types of people! You can’t defend yourself because the punishment will be far worse. You are ALWAYS in the wrong.

So he lived through the abuse of Stella just so his daughter could get neglected and abused in a less physical way?

The difference between my parents and Octavia is that they love each other. Stolas doesn't give a damn about Stella, he did say he was nice at first because he empathized with her they were in this shitty situation together, and fine, it's reasonable. But she never changed! Stella stayed the same! Why didn’t he leave her when he stopped carrying about her?! There’s no trauma bounding, Stella isn’t guilt-tripping or manipulating him, they got the child he could have divorced her easily without consequences! If anything, she’s the losing part of this divorce she’s lower in the hierarchy! “Andreaphul will get angry.” HE’S A MARQUIS! Hierarchically speaking Stolas is far more important and he mopes the floor with his peacock ass!

Am I supposed to be empathetic with that one dude who willingly let his daughter grow up in a hyper-toxic environment with an emotionally neglectful and unpredictable wife?! Am I supposed to believe he cares when he kept sleeping in his house in his bed with the same guy his daughter clearly is worried he’s going to leave her with?! Really?!

Don’t ever tell me that this is trying.

[lucyandthepen]

last young renegade | jjh

summary: your valentine’s day plans with jaehyun may have gone down the drain just a little. (okay — a lot.)

pairing: jaehyun x reader verse: canon, idol!verse rating: t warnings&tags: reader & jaehyun are in an established relationship, quite frankly there is nothing too out of the ordinary in this fic which is a shocker, it’s a rewritten fic so pls excuse any errors I may not have caught! word count: 5.02k

a/n: happy 2024 friends and family !!!!!! and advanced happy birthday to the man who created valentine’s day, he who is perhaps my first love in nct, jaehyun! this is actually just a fic I’ve been hoping to re-write a bit from before, and since it’s valentine’s themed, what better time to post it!! Enjoy enjoy, and may this year bring more fun, laughs, love (and debauchery) to this blog!

Yᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ.

♡ jaehyunnie ♡ I know I said birthday dinner but practice is running so late ㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie ♡ Can we meet after? I’m sorry ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ How about I call you when we’re done? Maybe 11:30?

At times like this, you often wonder if it’s all worth it.  

You know thinking that way is counterproductive, not to mention a little unfair. You knew exactly what to expect, getting into an under-wraps relationship with an idol, and so far, it’s lived up to most of your assumptions, and then some. It doesn’t help that Jaehyun, even just by name, tends to attract an unbelievable amount of attention. You know you can’t blame him; it’s not like he wants to be high on the radar every time, either. For some reason, though, you seem to be looking for something or someone to blame, which you also know is a dead end. You have no one to pin the blame onto apart from yourself by frequently generating doubts that keep your mind running around in circles.  

It’s not even the sneaking around that gets tiring; it’s the waiting — waiting on calls, waiting on free time, waiting on a good opportunity to do something that doesn’t involve him suddenly getting pulled out to attend to one of many of his celebrity responsibilities. Over the last few years that you’ve dated, NCT has only ever gotten more popular; with that popularity came the fact that the public eye was trained on them, focusing on every microscopic detail of their lives. Jaehyun hates that more than anything, which is why he’s given up on trying to avoid it by practically escaping it altogether, locking himself up in the dorm with you when he has his precious few days off. 

While it’s true that you definitely don’t miss having to play espionage when going out for a cup of coffee with him, you’ve also managed to memorize every single inch of Jaehyun’s room, which isn’t good for your mentality, you’re pretty sure. You have to keep reminding him to open the window whenever the both of you are in there, because all you do is stay in and watch English movies without subtitles to see who can understand the most without asking questions (obviously, he always wins) while eating food he runs up and down the stairs to get every other hour. And while him trying to imitate the British accents on these shows is genuinely funny, you’re starting to suspect even he’s starting to get tired of watching Harry Potter over and over again. Twenty hours sounds like a long time unless you spend every twenty-hour period you have together marathoning the exact same films. Much to both of your disappointment, your suggestion to watch it totally out of order did not make it cooler.

Still, you suppose it’s not all bad. Jaehyun also taught you how to play Fortnite on a couple of his days off back to back, and while you hadn’t been as good a player as you both had hoped, he’d still patiently waited for you every time you got lost on the map. He’d even given you his account’s password with the sentiment that this was him ‘taking things to the next level with you,’ and you get to log into his account and play whenever you want; he doesn’t even get mad when you’ve wasted all the stuff he’s farmed on your subpar gaming skills. And, well, the bigger picture was that you loved him. Based on how much effort he put into the relationship, plus the bonus of his trust in you when it came to his Fortnite account, you could at least be confident in that he returned the sentiment.  

Except, sometimes, you still wonder if it would be easier for the both of you if he flew solo and didn’t have a girlfriend that tanked all of his player’s ammo and health kits and generally made a fool out of his cute little avatar while he was out breaking his back onstage.  

You aren’t sure if Jaehyun’s been noticing the turmoil in you; you’re not that good at hiding how you feel, anyway, but if he has, he hasn’t said anything thus far. You do observe how much more he texts you when he has free time, which makes you feel doubly bad, because you know that he’s spending precious minutes he could be resting with on talking to you instead, which isn’t the best trade-off for someone who’s constantly busy — and thereby constantly tired — like him.  

♡ jaehyunnie♡ ___________ I’m going to practice again, okay? Wait for my call ㅠㅠ You I’ll wait for your call ♡ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ I love you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ You love me too — a lot, right? I’ll keep my phone now, but I’ll make sure to check that you said so. ㅋㅋㅋ You Right! ㅎ I love you a lot! ♡

When the clock hits 12:01, and your phone is silent, your mind starts working on overtime again. It’s only when the special ringtone you’ve set for him comes to life at half-past midnight that you break your train of thought and put on your socks so you can meet Jaehyun at your front door.  

You’ve made a rule — sort of like a deal — between the two of you that apologies aren’t necessary when work holds you up. You’ve cashed in on that deal a couple of times, but you’re both aware that it’s more for Jaehyun’s sake than anything else, and he keeps to his word on that much when you open the door and duck into his car. All he does is smile at you, and you smile back, and for the rest of the car ride, everything seems okay.  

He always asks you about your day — unfailingly, at any chance he can. It’s never an off-handed question, either; Jaehyun takes great pride in his memory, and the sweetest thing about him is that he’s dedicated a good deal of it to knowing almost everything about you. Right now is no different. He asks you about your team manager, what you had for lunch; he grills you on if you took your vitamins today and if you got to break in the new shoes you bought online — the ones you’d been pining over for the last three months. He even asks you about the guy from the neighboring department who keeps asking you out for after-work drinks.  

“He wanted to go to Hongdae tonight,” you tell him as he slows for a red light. “There’s some new pub of his friend’s doing a soft opening there tonight.”  

“You could have gone.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I wouldn’t have minded.”  

“I didn’t want to.”

“Good.” He glances at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Because I lied. I might have minded a little. Or, you know, a lot.”  

“Don’t tell me after all these years, you’ve turned into the kind of boyfriend that doesn’t let his girlfriend go out without him.”

“That’s impossible for me, and you know that,” he chuckles. “You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Just not with that guy from the other department.”

“Don’t worry.” You tinker with the little charm dangling on your phone — half of a flat, metal heart dangling from a gold chain that Jaehyun had given you two years back on your birthday. He keeps the other half, but since he can’t freely attach it to any of his belongings, he keeps it wedged between the back of his phone and its case. You like watching him change the backing because he does it so carefully, like he’s worried the other half of the heart is going to break if he rips off the case willy nilly. “I told him my boyfriend and I were going out on a date tonight, so he backed off. Although he did wonder why I keep talking about a boyfriend he’s never seen.”

“And? What did you say?”

“I said it was none of his damn business.”  

Jaehyun laughs loudly, and you go along with him, but you don’t miss how tired he looks when he sobers down, the green light illuminating all the shadows on his face as he steps on the gas again.

Nothing good is open this late at night — that is, nothing you haven’t seen before. You hadn’t even expected to go out at all, but since it was the day before Valentine’s Day as well as his birthday (or it would have been, if you hadn’t waited until midnight), Jaehyun had wanted to do something special without having to run into a huge crowd of couples on the day itself. Your only option is this from-out-of-town carnival that’s set up in tents and even has a medium-sized ferris wheel by the edge of the metal barricade. The parking lot is practically empty when Jaehyun pulls into a slot; you joke that he should break one rule and park in two slots, which he smugly replies to by saying he couldn’t park badly even if he tried.  

He tucks your hair back behind your ears as he loops the strings of a face mask around them, using another one for himself. Between that and the brim of his cap, you can barely see his eyes. The only knowledge that you have that you’re walking next to the man you love is that he takes your hand in his, slender fingers finding their way between yours.  

The carnival is half-closed when you get to the middle of it; there are still a few stragglers, but half the kiosks have their lights off already. There’s a woman dressed in flashy clothes standing on a patch of dead grass a few feet away, and she’s holding a hoop that a ginger cat is jumping through. Jaehyun steers you to them, and you stand there for a good five minute watching the cat roll on the ground and stand on its hind legs, but you can tell it’s been going it at for most of the day because at one point, it just ignores the lady, opting to weave its way between Jaehyun’s and your legs instead. You do have a pretty good time when he picks it up and cradles it in his arms so you can pet it for a second, but it just hisses when its owner approaches and jumps out of his hold, disappearing behind a row of trash bins.  

Jaehyun doesn’t have anything in his wallet apart from his credit cards and 50,000 won, and the coin machine operator says he only has enough coins left to break down 5,000 won for the games, so you end up having to jog back to his car so you can fish out some coins from inside his glove compartment. You come up with a grand total of 1,500 won, and you have to sheepishly go back to the coin machine operator to change four 100 coins and a couple of 50s just to get the last 500. Jaehyun tells you to hold onto the three coins so he doesn’t run off with them entirely and leave you destitute.  

You learn you can only do three things at most — you dedicate 500 won for the Ferris wheel entry tickets, which leaves you with 500 won each. The both of you agree on choosing one kiosk to play in, and with only about five left that are open, you don’t really have that many options. You end up dragging Jaehyun over to a stall with a pond filled with those magnetic toy fish, but 500 won only gets you one fishing rod. Since it’s your choice, Jaehyun lets you play, but you feel kind of stupid doing it on your own with him just watching you. In the end, he decides to stand behind you, his arms around your waist like he thinks closer contact isn’t even more distracting. You do manage to fish out 10 fish and win a small bear on a keychain. It doesn’t even pass through your hands as Jaehyun takes it from the stall operator immediately. 

“That’s mine!” You whine, reaching out in vain to take it from him; he just holds it high over his head. His eyes are twinkling under the shadow his cap casts over his face. “I worked hard for that.”  

“Let me keep this one,” he mimics the pleading lilt in your voice. “I’ll put it on my bag.”

“You know you can’t! Give it back.”

“I’ll win you a bigger one,” he promises. “Let me keep this one. It’s cute. It reminds me of you. I’ll kiss it goodnight before I sleep.” He starts to laugh softly. “And then you’ll feel this weird spirit kissing you at like two in the morning, and you’ll know it’s me.”  

Your arms aren’t long enough to retrieve it, and you don’t really want to, so you settle with twisting his ear. He takes it in stride even if he over-acts, making pained noises while leading you to the kiosk he wants to go to. It’s a shooting range stall, and he pays his own precious 500 won for a dart gun. He’s barely paying attention when the guy starts explaining how many points are assigned to each balloon color, more concerned with talking to the bear keychain in his hand and pretending like he’s cooing at you. You have to hit him across the shoulder to get him to focus.  

“You need to start picking out what prize you want,” he tells you — the actual you, not the animal keychain version — as he lifts the dart gun.  

“I’ll wait for you to finish first.”  

“No way.” He tilts his head, closing one eye to steady his line of sight. “Pick already. Or just go for the biggest one.”

“You know that Fortnite and dart guns aren’t the same thing, right?”  

“Yeah, but I’m well-motivated.” He grins at you, one eye still shut. He looks like a baby pirate. “Go ahead. Pick the biggest one.”

“Why don’t you just shoot, and we’ll see.”  

“Pick it,” he insists. “Tell me you have faith in me. Tell me you love me.”

“Okay, I love you,” you agree. “But I have no faith in you when it comes to this.”  

“One out of two is fine,” he concedes, taking aim.  

All three of you, including the stall operator, let out a disappointed groan when he misses his first shot. His comes with a sheepish laugh as he reloads, suddenly telling you to pick the second biggest prize instead. You can’t even watch him miss over and over, so you pretend to be interested in a bunch of teenage boys playing a game of cups one stall over, trying not to giggle when you hear him get increasingly more frustrated at himself. When you turn back around, you notice he’s holding two small pieces of gummy candy, offering one to you like a kindergartener. He helps you tug your face mask down so you can eat it.  

There’s a food stall nearby that, thankfully, accepts credit and debit; Jaehyun fishes out his card to get you a corndog — only one because he’s watching his weight for the upcoming concert, apparently. This is information you hate hearing but have no say in, and he knows this; you know he does because he says ‘don’t worry about me’ totally out of the blue, like five minutes after the conversation ceases to be relevant.  

His phone starts ringing when the food comes out, and he takes a tiny bite of it — more bread than hotdog — before he answers. You know it’s Taeyong by the way he answers.  

“Hyung, sorry — can we talk later? I’m out with ____________.”  

Taeyong says something loud but indiscernible on the other end. You piece together that it’s about tomorrow’s schedule when Jaehyun speaks again.

“I know. I’ll be home in a bit; don’t worry about it. I haven’t forgotten.”  

There’s more garbled speech on the other line; Jaehyun gestures for you to keep eating, and you do, but you more concerned with the morphing expressions on his face than you are with the act of chewing. He’s making noncommittal noises in response to what seem to be commands and reminders. You’re pretty much done with the corndog by the time he says ‘Okay, hyung. Hyung — I’ll see you later, okay?’

“Taeyong hyung says hi,” he tells you once he’s hung up the phone. “He says you still need to give back that book you borrowed from him last year.”  

“Oh yeah,” you finish off the last of the food. “I’ll drop it off within the week.”  

“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t actually mean it.”  

Jaehyun watches you snap the stick in half and toss it in the trash bag.  

“We can go home,” you say finally. His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re busy tomorrow. I forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, and it’s fine.”  

“It’s almost two in the morning.” You check your phone to verify. “You probably have to be up in a few hours. You need to sleep, or you’ll die, Jaehyun. I’m too young to be a grieving widow.”

“Let’s at least ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggests. Before you can protest, he tugs you towards the rickety contraption, digging the 500 won out of your pocket and handing it to the bemused operator. He lets you choose what carriage you want because literally no one is on it anymore, and Jaehyun asks for the best carriage. You’re not sure how it differs from the rest, but he makes a show out of guiding you into it, and you don’t miss the corny ‘my lady,’ he mutters under his breath.   

It’s small, clearly meant for either a tiny group of children or couples who want to be as close together as possible. It’s also not air-conditioned, and only one of the windows is open, so you end up sticking to Jaehyun’s arm on the way up. The view is still great, though, and you feel his hand settle on your knee as the carriage makes it slow ascent.  

The ride up is quiet, and you press your face as close to the glass of the carriage as you dare, but Jaehyun doesn’t move an inch. His hand is still heavy on your thigh, but it doesn’t do anything but lay there. When you’re close to the top, you’re hit with the urge to do something romantic — kiss, maybe, tell him happy birthday, or say ‘I love you’ to him in the most sickening way possible — but when you turn to look at him, you have to hold your tongue.

Jaehyun is asleep, leaning against the corner of the carriage, head tilted down a little. His shoulders are rising and falling slowly, and he’s pulled down his face mask a little so he can breathe better; his lips are slightly parted by the slackening of his jaw. His left hand is shoved in his pocket, like he’d passed out halfway through reaching for something in there.  

He doesn’t wake even when you move slightly so you can lean back next to him, rocking the carriage a little — not even when you reach up and adjust his head so he can rest on your shoulder. He breathes deeply, evenly, and you wonder if his ear against your shoulder allows him to hear your heart plummet unfairly to the bottom of your stomach.  

You have to shake him to rouse him when the ride comes to an end; when he opens his eyes and realizes what happened, he looks mortified. Instinctively, he opens his mouth, but you fling the carriage door open and step out before he can apologize.

You have a deal, and he knows what he shouldn’t be doing.

His grip on your hand is much tighter as you walk back to the parking lot, and he doesn’t let go, even on the road. The trip back is quieter, maybe because it’s late, or maybe because there are a ton of things the both of you want to say but can’t.  

He slows down when he gets to your street, but when he stops in front of your building, he doesn’t immediately unlock the doors to let you out. Instead, he turns to you, licking his lips a little nervously.

“Can you…” he clears his throat because his voice cracks a little on the first attempt. “Can you come back with me? To the dorm?”  

“I have work tomorrow, Jaehyun.”  

“It’s still at eleven, isn’t it? I can bring you home before that. You still have some stuff in my room. You can get ready there.”

“Won’t you be too busy?”  

“Just—” he sighs softly. “Can you? Please?”  

You don’t know how to say no to Jaehyun, and tonight isn’t a night you’re willing to try. It’s why fifteen minutes later, you’re walking through the front door of his dorm. Donghyuck, sitting at his computer in his room with the door ajar, greets you sleepily as you pass by.  

Jaehyun steps in the shower with you; you don’t talk, maybe because you’re worried you might wake the others up if you start a full-blown conversation in a bathroom surrounded by other bedrooms. He just passes you what you need, and you do the same for him, and somewhere in between, he kisses you under the spray of the water.  

Later, he falls asleep with a face mask on, and you have to peel it off for him and toss it into the trash. The tip of his nose is shiny, and you want to kiss it, but you know it’ll wake him, and you noticed he’d set his alarm to go off two hours from now. He’s set out a couple of earplugs for you so that you don’t hear it, but you don’t put them in. You want to see him before he leaves, even if it’s in the deadest hours of morning, so you just crawl into bed with him. A minute before you doze off, you feel his damp skin press against your neck, his form curled up against your back.  

The alarm never wakes you; the sun is out when you open your eyes, and when you check your phone, you see that it’s already half-past nine. You also notice that there’s nothing from Jaehyun on your screen, but you try not to dwell on that, considering that you’d been expecting to wake up to an empty bed. His side of the mattress is cold, which means that he’s been gone for some time.  

You don’t know if it’s just because you’re groggy, but your insides still feel like lead when you sit up. The part of you that nags about this relationship is back at full force when you start thinking about Jaehyun going to a pre-recording two hours after spending the last of his energy on you. You start wondering if you’re doing the right thing if it feels like you’re just dragging him down. Your heart clenches tightly when the worst thought hits — maybe, just maybe, he’s tired of you, too.

But you won’t let him go. More to the point — you can’t. He’s the best part of your life; it’d be a cold day in hell if you decided to leave him.

Even the thought of it makes you feel like dying.  

Then again, this isn’t all up to you.  

You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and maybe a couple of frustrated tears — when the door creaks open. You see two mugs and his hands before you see the rest of him come through the doorway. Jaehyun whispers a careful good morning as he sets the coffee down on his table, making sure to push his keyboard away to avoid accidents, before sitting down next to you. You notice that there’s an envelope next to one of the mugs; the flap is slightly open, and from under it, a flash of red peeks out.  

His hand finds its way back to your knee — it’s his favorite resting place, he’s told you once. Your lap feels like home, he’d joked. Maybe he touches it every so often because it’s like a reset button for him.  

He doesn’t ask if you slept well, or if you want to get ready before having your coffee, or if you’re okay. He just squeezes your knee a little tighter. It’s you that has to start the conversation this time.

“How did it go?”

“It went great. You’ll see it on TV later tonight,” he starts rubbing your thigh idly. “You’ll watch it later, right?”  

“Of course. I’ll call you and tell you how cool you look.”  

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When you lapse into silence again, it’s because you’re expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t come out with it directly. You try not to let it show that you’re worried, that you’re skeptical, that you’re wondering if he thinks he’s too tired, too busy for this, too.  

You’re expecting him to start how most break-ups start. You know I love you, right? And then the telltale but… would come, and you would have to hold back your tears and smile for him, and tell him you know, and that you understand it isn’t the right time, but maybe one day, someday, when he isn’t everyone’s Jung Jaehyun anymore — only yours.  

“You love me, right?”  

It’s not what you’d been expecting. Nor is it the playful little text he’d sent — no laughs, no jokes. His expression is somber, mouth pressed into a thin line.  

“You know I do.”

“A lot, right?”

“A lot,” you confirm softly.  

“Then whatever it is that you’re thinking about us,” he says quietly. “Don’t. Don’t think it. Don’t do it.”  

“Jaehyun—”

“I know it’s hard,” his fingers dig into your skin a little. “I know I put you through a lot. I know you think that I’m suffering because of this relationship too. I know everything. But whatever you think I’m going to do, I won’t do it — not ever. So if you’re thinking of it too, I’m begging you. Don’t. Please.”  

Maybe he had noticed all this time. A wave of guilt washes over you when you see the pained look on his face; perhaps you were even more transparent than you’d originally thought. You nod slowly to show your understanding, and he continues.  

“I know yesterday wasn’t the best you could have hoped for,” he carefully avoids apologizing, although it’s written all over his features. “For me, too. I… I wanted something different. It’ll be better next time. Do you believe me?”  

You hear him swallow — his nails are biting into your thigh a little, so you have to gently peel his hand off. Your fingers replace it, tightening around his palm as you nod.

“I believe you.”  

“And you trust me, right?”

“With my life.”  

“Then can you put your faith in me right now?” He asks. “Don’t panic. Just — just say yes.”

He pats around his pants, finally deciding to slip his hand into his left-hand pocket. Unlike on the Ferris wheel, he manages to extract something, but he keeps it closed in his fist. It’s shaking a little as he takes your hand in his other one, pressing something small and hard into your palm before he curls your fingers over it. His hold keeps your fist closed as he starts talking.

“It’s not immediate. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tell the right people, and they’ll help us tell everyone else — the public, the press. It doesn’t have to happen right now, or any time soon either— not if you don’t want it to. We can take it slow, or whatever. Anything you want — just as long as it’s with me.”  

“Jaehyun,” you shake your head, a little dizzy. “What are you talking about?”  

He slowly loosens his hold on your fingers, his hand dropping to the same spot on your knee. You’re free to open your fist, and when you do, you can’t help but feel a little stumped.

“I don’t mean now,” he repeats, now sounding doubly worried. “It’s not — It’s just…”  

“You’ll get in trouble. We can’t.”

“I won’t. Not if we do this right. Like I said, we can do it slowly. Months — years, however long it takes to do it well. What it is — it’s just… a promise.”  

“A promise,” you echo. It does have a nice ring to it.  

“That I’m not leaving you. Not ever. And… if you say yes, that you won’t either.”  

Your coffee has probably turned cold. Jaehyun is watching you carefully, looking like he’s trying hard not to bite his lip. You look back down at your hand, and he speaks up again.  

“You know I love you, right?”  

You smile slightly. “No but?”  

“No but,” he agrees.  

The ring fits nicely on your finger; maybe it’s well-measured from the amount of times he’s held your hand tightly in his.  

“Okay, Jaehyun,” you whisper. “I promise.”  

When you place your hand on his, he twists his palm, slender fingers gently twirling the ring around the base of your finger.  

Minutes later, he hands you your coffee. It’s sweet and milky, the way he knows you like it best. When he settles back down on the bed, you notice his eyes travel to your finger again, a small smile playing on his lips.  

Perhaps, in this moment, you finally learn to ask the right questions — not about if it’s worth it, but if he is.  

And in this moment, where he sits in silence with you, the sunlight pouring in from his window hitting the tips of his hair and the end of his nose, with the knowledge that his heart is as full as yours, you come to realize that there can — and never will be — any doubt of that.  

[kingkatsuki]

Sealed With A Kiss | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Didn’t think I’d write anything for Bakugou’s birthday and then a random idea popped into my head and I wrote it all in one sitting. It’s been months since I’ve started and finished a fic, so please be kind! And Happy Birthday, Bakugou!💕

Summary: Not everyone wants the quirk that they're given. Ever since you were a child, you were cursed with a quirk where you’re able to see how someone will die when you kiss them. Unsure on whether your quirk is telling the future, or sealing their fate with a kiss of death, its safer for you to completely give up on finding love. Coming to terms over the years that you’ll have to watch all your friends get married and settle down, while you spend the rest of your life alone. That is, until you run into Bakugou Katsuki.

Warnings: 18+, minimal plot, mostly smut, no beta, praise, dirty talk, fingering, multiple orgasms, public sex, protected sex, not as angsty as I thought it’d be!

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 6.4k.

What would you do if you could tell someone the exact time and way that they’re going to die? Would you share that information with them, hoping that they can get their affairs in order and live those final moments to the fullest before kicking the bucket? Or would you keep quiet about it, holding onto the information as though it's a sordid little secret that needs to be buried and taken to your own grave?

Not that it matters anyway, because even if you held that information no one would believe you anyway, would they? Telling someone that they’re going to die in a car accident when they don’t even drive, or that they die during a snowstorm in July. It’s like people only ever believe what they want to hear, and it’s the same reason why even your best friend doesn’t know about your quirk. Imagine if you’d proved it, writing down your prediction and then waiting for it to happen. Counting down the days like you’re waiting for an exciting event, not waiting for someone to die. And then what? Someone dies and people want you to do it again, to prove that it wasn’t just a fluke. And then what? You’re kissing every single person that comes along just to tell them that they’re not going to make it to their next birthday?

Quirks should be a blessing, but yours was most definitely a curse.

“You know you really should start trying to settle down, you’re not getting any younger.” You could practically feel the disdain in their tone as you tried to avoid the question by taking a sip of your drink.

“You act like she’s going to die soon,” Your best friend Tatami laughed, shaking her head, “She’s got plenty of time.”

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. You should scoff at the saying, but in this instance, it was very much true. The entire Hen party was made more awkward by the fact that you didn’t like any of your best friends friends’. All socialites that would give up your deepest, darkest secrets to further themselves and get their names plastered all over the latest tabloids. You were lucky enough to have known her since childhood, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Every wedding you’d attended in the last few years was even more elaborate and outrageous than the last like each bride competed to show that they had the most magnificent life. And every time you were stuck in an uncomfortable bridesmaid dress, trying to avoid the same string of questioning that you knew was coming.

“Come on, Tatami.” One of the girls rolled her eyes, taking a large sip of champagne, “Why don’t you try to set her up with one of your old school friends? At least then she’d be with a man with ambition.”

You felt irritated by them talking about you as though you weren’t even in the room, never mind sitting on the opposite ends of a table. They made it seem as though you were incapable of finding a partner like no one would ever want you.

“Or you could try one of those dating websites, I almost married a rich tycoon from Russia on there before I settled down with my husband. It’s funny how things work out.”

Of course, no one even bothers to ask me whether I want a boyfriend or not– never mind a husband. You rolled your eyes at the idea of flying out to Russia to marry a rich oil tycoon.

“I’m happily single at the moment,” You force a smile, your hand tightening against your glass, “

“They are right though, darling.” Tatami gave you a soft smile, “You have been single for quite some time. I’m not even certain I remember the last time you even mentioned going on a date with anyone?”

That’s because you hadn’t. Not since you lost your boyfriend all those years ago. Why would you try to look for someone again knowing what you know now?

Growing up you’d eagerly awaited receiving your quirk, but the longer it took to manifest the more you’d come to terms that you were one of the quirkless. It wasn’t until you shared your first kiss at sixteen that you realised that maybe things weren’t quite as they seemed. Everyone anticipates their first kiss, hoping it would be one of those special, perfect moments that you’d remember for the rest of your life. But instead, the moment you’d shared yours, you’d been struck with a horrifying premonition.

It felt like a dream at first, a moment where you’d pinch yourself and realise that everything had been concocted in your mind. The vision of your first love walking into traffic on a cold, snowy evening. The cars were unable to stop against the icy terrain as they drove straight towards him, the lights bouncing off the road to make it difficult to see pedestrians as he was knocked to his back. You’d even told him about it after it happened, laughing about how vivid your imagination was– but not even three months later and it's like your nightmare came true.

You’d told yourself it was a coincidence, that it could've happened to anyone and it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Trying to heal your heart as you took time to recover from losing your first love until you met your next boyfriend. You were trying to allow yourself to be happy again, to forget the bad memories that haunted your past. Until it happened again– your first kiss with him gave you a vision. This time a villain attack endangered the city, your boyfriend was caught in the crossfire as a fire quirk ripped through his body and burnt him from the inside out.

It should’ve frightened you, much like the first time. But instead, you just felt numb. It was then you realised that you weren’t in fact quirkless, but instead of gaining a talent that was cool, flashy or useful to society– you inherited a curse.

Of course, there was no way you could explain your quirk to anyone, finding someone that believed you would be hard enough. But telling someone that you know when they’re going to die purely from kissing them? It sounded insane. Not to mention what it could do if the information fell into the wrong hands. Using the information for those dark, depraved benefits.

And to this day you weren’t even sure whether kissing someone showed the way they were going to die, or whether kissing them sealed their fate. Like you were the grim reaper handing out the macabre kiss of death.

Why would anyone want to be with you?

So it was easier this way, guarding your heart so you couldn’t feel the pain of losing someone you love again. A small price to pay to ensure that you didn’t harm anyone else, and the disappointed looks from your friends that you were still very much single were a small price to pay.

But you did feel alone.

Watching all your friends get married, settle down and have kids was harder when you knew you could never have those things. Maybe that's why it hurt even more. We always desire what we can’t have, after all.

“Let me set you up on one date and see how it goes,” Tatami’s annoying friend dipped her glass towards you from across the table, the champagne sloshing inside it, “I have this friend, not much of a looker, but he’s a quirk defence lawyer. It pays good money, and he’s looking to settle down–”

“It’s alright, I’m really not looking–” You felt awkward as each set of eyes around the table scrutinised you.

“Nonsense, he’d be perfect for you,” She continued, and you almost groaned as she pulled out her phone, “Let me text him now, I bet he could get you lunch in that new Sushi restaurant in the city.”

“Sorry, I just need the bathroom-” You almost shoved Tatami out of the booth as she stood up to let you out, her drink splashing as you tried to give her a reassuring smile before disappearing into the throng of people inside the busy nightclub. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to find it back to your table at this point, but all you knew is you needed to get out.

The heat inside the club was suffocating, burning through you as you tried to find an exit. Weaving through the sea of people as you tried to remind yourself to breathe. Heaving a sigh as you noticed the sign to a smoking area as you followed the few people heading in the same direction. Stepping into the cool evening air is a welcome relief, the chill pricks against your skin as the heat slowly simmers down. Leaning against the rough brick wall as the back of your head knocks against it gently, closing your eyes to try and alleviate the irritation bubbling up inside you.

“Oi, you okay?” Your eyes opened into a glare to see the source of the voice, your nose scrunched in irritation at the blunt introduction.

A blond man stood a few feet away from you, cell phone in hand. The bright screen illuminated his face and cast a soft glow against his skin. You felt your heart betray you as it sped up at the sight of him, suddenly feeling self-conscious beneath his piercing ruby gaze.

“M���fine.” You mumbled, not about to dump all your issues on a random stranger.

“You don’t look fine,” He shrugged, glancing back down at his phone as he typed against the screen.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You sneered, your defences up.

“You just look pissed,” He smirked, and it only irritated you more.

Who did this fucking asshole think he was?

“Well I’ve got a random stranger bothering me, so perhaps I am.”

The answer has the opposite effect you were expecting as the blond beside you gives you a wide grin, shaking his head.

“Gotta be better than the desperate pricks inside there?” He tilts his head towards the club and you’ve gotta admit he’s right. You’ve been standing beside him for a minute and he hasn’t tried to buy you a drink or grab your ass.

“Guess you’re right.” You exhale softly.

“Whatever it is can’t be that bad anyway,” He shrugs, “You’re too pretty to be frownin’.”

You hate the way your heart throbs when he calls you pretty, it's pathetic really.

“You come here alone?”

Does he really think you’re that much of a loser to come to a club by yourself?

‘No, my friends are still inside.”

“So why are you out here alone?” He raises a questioning brow.

“Why are you here?” You crossed your arms against your chest defensively, turning the question back on him like he wasn’t doing the exact same thing you were.

“Got a big promotion today,” He shrugs it off like it’s nothing. Probably just another step on the never-ending corporate ladder to him, “My friends got me out to celebrate.”

“Is that why you’re standing outside on your own?” You shoot back, unable to miss the way his nostrils flare in irritation.

“Could say the same to you, sweetheart.” He scoffs, “Who’re you here with?”

“My best friend,” You smile softly, “She’s getting married.”

“Not very rowdy for a hen party.”

“Oh yeah?” You watch the way his tongue darts out between his lips to wet them, “You're not exactly the life of the party yourself, are you?”

“Just wanna go home,” He rolled his eyes, “My friends turn into assholes when they’re drunk.”

“Mine can be assholes at any time.” You were already expecting texts in the morning trying to invite you on a blind date you didn’t even want to go on.

“Dya want me to call you a cab?” The guy held up his phone, “I can get you a separate one if you don’t wanna share. It ain’t safe to be out here alone.”

“Very considerate of you,” You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop your heart from doing a little flip, “I can take care of myself.”

“Sure looks like it,” He scoffed, “That why you’re gonna hide out here for the rest of the night?”

“Shut up,” You almost pouted, “I’ll go back in.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He smirked.

“What’s your name?” You asked as he slipped his phone back into his black jeans pocket.

“Bakugou.” He answered after pausing for a second, “What's yours?”

You mumble your name and can’t stop your cheeks from scalding when he responds with a soft “Pretty.”

Standing in a comfortable silence between the handsome stranger you watched groups of people slowly leaving the club, some moving on to their next destination for the night and others trying to stop their friends from throwing up before they climbed into their designated cabs.

“Gonna take fuckin’ ages to catch a cab now, I hate this part of the city.” Bakugou groans, running his palm down the length of his face.

“You could go back in and party,” You shrugged, “I’m sure your friends are missing you.”

“Yeah? After you, sweetheart—” Bakugou made a mock chivalrous movement with his arm to invite you to go back inside first which you rejected. Moving back to stare into the sea of people with a small smile on your face, “Didn’t think so.”

You stood in a comfortable silence beside him for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes. One of the first times in a long time that you felt yourself as you both listened to the rowdy cheers in the background.

“Do you ever just want to say fuck it and disappear?” You surprised yourself by speaking your thoughts out loud.

“Go somewhere where no one knows who the fuck you are or what the fuck you’re doin’?” Bakugou responded simply.

“Yeah.”

“All the time.” He murmurs.

“It just hurts when it seems like everyone else has their perfect little lives while you’re just waiting on the sidelines,” You sigh. Maybe it was easier offloading everything onto a random stranger, it wasn’t as though you had anyone else you could talk to, “It’s just lonely.”

“You don’t have to be lonely.” He replied as though it was the most simple answer.”

“It’s not that easy,” You shake your head.

“Who said it ain’t that easy?” Bakugou turned to face you, his frame towering over you as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Cause I’m always lonely.” You felt hot, pearly tears beginning to clump in your lash line as you thought about the nights you spent at home alone while all your friends were with their partners. The life that you’d always dreamed about, but never have. For once you just wanted someone to be there for you, with you, “It's just how it is.”

“You don’t have to be though, sweetheart.” He whispers.

“Yeah?” You murmurs, “Do you feel alone too?”

“Fuck,” He groans, leaning his forehead against yours as he stands with you for a moment, “C’mere.”

Bakugou took your hand in his as he walked you through the crowd of people outside the rowdy venue and down a dark dingy alley that was illuminated in fierce neon lights from the various clubs dotted along the high street. You followed behind him obediently as your heart danced against your ribcage, astounded by your daring behaviour. He could be a murderer or a psychopath for all you knew– just another stranger out looking for his next victim. But for some reason (maybe it was the liquid courage coursing through your veins) you felt safe with him.

He moves his hands to your hips as he pushed you back against the cool brick wall, slotting himself between your parted thighs as he looks down at you with crimson eyes. The scent of liquor was sharp on his breath as his lips hovered close to you, warmth fanning your face as he leaned to kiss you.

“No kissing,” You gasped as you tilted your head just in time to avoid his lips as he pressed a wet, scorching kiss against your jawline.

If he had an issue with it, he didn’t voice it. The only sound was a rough grunt rumbling from the back of his throat as his lips continued to pepper sloppy kisses along your neck. Your fingers swiftly carded through his messy hair, nails grazing his scalp as you tried to pull him closer. As though everything right now wasn’t enough, you needed more.

“Please,” You whine as you felt his teeth graze your pulse point, hips bucking as strong palms reached out to steady you. Keeping you still as he bit down on the supple skin hard, the sudden pain had you crying out for him as the ache blurred your vision. Or maybe it was the alcohol running through your system— warm lips suckling the fresh bite mark as you clench your thighs together in a feeble attempt to give your neglected clit some much-needed friction.

“Please, what?” He rasps against your neck, his tongue salving against the mark he’d left against your skin moments earlier.

This is the part where you should’ve stopped him. Making up an excuse about Tatami wondering where you are, or needing to get home and disappearing into the night. But you didn’t—

“Touch me,”

“You always beg random strange men to touch you, sweetheart?” He smirked, his hand reaching round to grab a handful of your ass, “Or am I just special?”

If only he knew how unlike you this really was, that no one had touched you so intimately in years. A thought that would’ve surely ruined the mood if Bakugou’s hand hadn’t slipped beneath your dress to cup your aching sex, the sensation had you gasping in surprise as the blonde smirked down at you.

“I’m just special, hah?” He answered his own question with a toothy grin, “Is that why your panties are dripping for me?”

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this insatiable. Evenings spent at home with your toys felt nothing like the way his warm hands felt against your skin, uncaring that you were in a dirty alleyway as you found yourself grinding into his touch.

“Fuck,” You murmur, your head knocking against the cold brick as Bakugou presses the heel of his palm against your clit through the sheer fabric. A heat blazes through his touch and scorches you as you writhe against him, desperate to create a delicious friction as he smirks down at how salacious you look at this moment.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, bet I’d slide right in.” He grunts, surprising himself at his blunt words. Blaming his audaciousness on the alcohol Sero and Denki had plied him with not long ago, the liquor flowing through his veins.

“Please,” It’s quite pathetic really, just how easily this man has turned you into this. You’d managed to go years without the touch of a man, and now you’d felt it for a moment you were unsure how you’d ever lived without it.

“Oh, fuck.” He chokes back a groan as he pulls your panties to the side, the skirt of your dress now shamelessly bunched around your waist as he notes the glossy strings of your essence that cling to the flimsy fabric of your panties, “This all for me?”

His fingers drag through your slick shamelessly, testing it on his fingers as he feels the heat radiating from your core. He spends little time circling your puffy clit before continuing lower, dipping one thick digit inside your tight hole. You wish at this moment that you’d worn slightly prettier panties than the plain black ones you wore right now, but if Bakugou had any issues with them he certainly didn’t seem to mind as he pumped his finger in and out of your core.

“Shit, you’re so sensitive.” He groans at the way your body responds to him, thrashing against him as he places more pressure on your clit.

“Please, Bakugou.” Your thighs quiver as he continues pumping his finger inside you, feeling the way your walls hungrily try to suck him in deeper, to take all he's got to give and more.

“Wish we weren’t in a dirty fuckin’ alley right now, princess. I’d have you sit on my face.” He groans, feeling the way your cunt clenches around him at his lewd words. You’d never wished something so bad in your life, tempted to tell him you didn’t mind if there was an audience if it meant having his lips wrapped around your clit.

“I don’t normally do this shit,” He groans, nuzzling your neck.

“Fuck strangers in alleys?” You tease as he gives you a playful smirk against your skin.

“Somethin’ like that.”

You groan as he adds another finger to join the first, stretching you open as your nails dig crescent-shaped moons into the base of his neck, leaving reddened indents against his skin as he growls from the slight twinge of pain. The sounds coming from your cunt are downright crude, echoing around the empty alley as he deliberately curls his fingers to press against the spongy spot inside you.

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ dripping.” Bakugou grunts, watching your creamy slick dribble down his fingers and settle into his palm, his thumb pressing sloppy circles against your needy clit as you shamelessly rock your hips into his touch. Greedily searching for the orgasm that he’s more than happy to give to you.

“Look at you,” He goads, “You’re so fuckin’ easy. This sloppy ‘nd I’ve barely even touched you. Is this all it takes, sweet girl?”

You don’t have the heart to tell him how long it's been since anyone touched you like this, that no matter how hard you try to replicate his touch after today, you’ll probably never feel anything like this again. It’s like he’s tempting you to say something, to give him a witty comeback. But you can’t, not when his fingers are stroking you in all the right places, stretching you out in preparation for what you know is soon to come. You spread your thighs further apart to give him more access, a movement that has a wide grin from ear to ear appearing on his face. Standing on shaky heels as he ensures you stay upright with a palm on your waist.

He knows when he’s found it, like a lost ship searching for the bright glow of a lighthouse to guide it home. Pushing his calloused digits against the same spot that he knows will have you coming undone.

“Right there, huh baby?” He coos, “Yeah, I know, I know. Such a pretty pussy.”

You must look debauched now, your tongue lolling out as you pant pathetically with your head knocking against the cold brick wall. Allowing Bakugou– a complete stranger– to do as he so pleases with you.

“Oi, you listening to me?” He growls, and you can’t even remember what he’s just said. So lost in your own bliss as he continues to press the same persistent circles against your clit, “Course you ain’t, so desperate to cum, hm?’

“Please, Bakugou.” You mumble, breaking off into a salacious moan as he increases his pace eagerly trying to push you over the edge. He’s watching intently as you writhe against him, dangerously close to your release as you pulse around his digits.

“Fuck,” He almost snarls, the sound sending shockwaves direct to your needy cunt as you feel yourself vaulting into your bliss.

His fingers don’t stop their ministrations, even as you're crying out for him and gushing all over them. He instead, increases his pace, determined to have you completely intoxicated on him before he's even begun.

“You’re so goddamn noisy, ain’tcha?” He scoffs, finally pulling his digits from your spent cunt with a crude squelch. Unabashedly holding them up to his lips as he tastes you on his tongue, groaning as though he's tasted the sweetest ambrosia as he cleans you off his skin.

“Please, Bakugou.” You slur, legs shaky from the intense orgasm he’d gifted you as he pulls his fingers from his mouth.

Bakugou’s fingers are quick to unfasten his belt, letting the heavy buckle hang as he dipped his thumbs into the hem of his boxers to pull them down along with his jeans. Letting the material settle around the curve of his ass, just enough to free his aching cock. The sight of it had your thighs quivering in anticipation, the bulging head an angry pink colour as it oozed pre from the slit. Dribbling down the underside as the veins that forked along his girth made him appear even bigger, the length of it drooped down from the sheer weight as you wondered how on earth he could keep something that size hidden beneath his jeans.

“S’big,” You murmur, biting down on your lower lip as your cunt throbs in anticipation. Even his balls look huge, thick and weighty as you watch him give himself a teasing pump. His wrist rolling as he smears pre along the length. Ready to ignore how damp and filthy the floor looks in favour of dropping to your knees to worship his cock as it deserves.

“Think you can still manage it though, sweetheart.” He grins, “I know that pretty pussy’s good for it.”

You’re almost disappointed when he pulls a condom out from his wallet in his back pocket, seemingly you’ve found the only man in the entire bar with a conscience as he rips the foil packet open with his teeth. Lifting one of your thighs up to press against his hip as his cock slips between your folds, the fat tip catching against your entrance as he sucks in a breath.

“Don’t do that,” Bakugou groans, “You’ll make me wanna fuck you raw.”

“Do it then.” You challenge, wondering whether he really is like all the sleazy men your friends end up with.

“Another time, baby.” He glowers back, pushing the tip of the condom against the head of his cock as he slides it down his length.

The first push against your tight entrance has the air stolen from your lungs, a dull ache from the stretch in your core as his thick cock slowly breaches your sex.

“Holy fuck,” He grunts, his fingers dipping into the fat of your thigh as he holds it against his hip, “You’re so tight.”

He smirks at how desperate you are to feel him inside you, trying to drop yourself down on his length as he gives a few, shallow thrusts. Your fingers dig into his skin to try and get him to give you more, rewarding you by thrusting all the way inside. One sharp rut is all it takes to have him sheathed inside you, your walls moulding to the shape of his cock as he takes a moment to cherish the sensation of you wrapped around him.

“Told you I’d slide right in, perfect fuckin’ pussy.” He groans, slowly pulling back as he glances down between you to watch his cock slide out of your warm heat before you take every inch again.

There’s not much you can do in this position except stand there and take what Bakugou’s got to give, his rough thrusts push you against the wall as he almost sweeps you off your feet. His messy pubes tickle your clit with every forward motion as your essence leaks from your needy cunt and dribbles down his heavy balls.

His scent is intoxicating, the saccharine tartness has you tugging him closer. Burying your nose into his neck to smell the mixture of cologne and his natural scent. It’s almost comforting as you cling to him a little tighter, trying to commit it to memory so you can cherish it when you inevitably end up alone after tonight.

“Oh, god.” You cling to his broad shoulders, holding him tight as he sets a brutal pace. The fabric of your dress catches against the rough brick behind you as he leaves a trail of kisses against your cheek.

The sensation is overwhelming, the pleasure rapidly building inside you as he continues thrusting into you with hard, sharp ruts of his hips. For once, the only thing you can think about is the white-hot pleasure coursing through you. The soothing ache from his cock stretching you open is almost cathartic as you let him use your body as he pleases, his rough hands groping at your exposed skin as he presses more scorching kisses against your jugular, sharp teeth nipping at your skin.

“Oh fuck, Bakugou.” You cry out, louder than intended as your toes curl from his harsh movement.

“Shit– You want us to get caught, sweetheart?” He groans, his palm reaching up to cover your mouth, “Can’t kiss you to shut’cha up, can I? So I’ll have to do this.”

And maybe it’s better this way, your lips warm against his palm as your lipstick smears against it. Otherwise, with the way he was looking down at you, you probably would’ve kissed him.

Your moans are muffled by Bakugou now, his pace unrelenting as he gives rough thrusts inside you. The lewd squelch vibrates around the empty alley and mingles with the loud thrum of bass that vibrates from inside the club. The loud bustle of voices only feet away as anyone could turn down and see you both in such a compromising position— not that it would be anything unusual. You certainly aren’t the first couple to fuck down this alley, if the empty condom wrappers and bottles are anything to go by, and you surely won’t be the last. But it’s been so unlike you to allow yourself to submit to your pleasure, to live a little.

“You still with me, pretty girl?” He groans, “Pussy feels so good. Can feel you clamping down around me.”

You whined against his palm, feeling the pleasure intensifying inside you as Bakugou continued his rough pace. Drunken patrons hollered boisterously as they left the bar causing him to shield your body with his broad back, taking his eyes off you to ensure they didn’t decide to come down the alleyway to interrupt you.

“Fuckin’ pricks.” Bakugou snarled under his breath as he stilled inside of you.

Your entire body felt as though it was on fire, hovering dangerously close to the edge of your climax as your cunt clenched around his thick cock. Causing Bakugou to suck a harsh breath through his teeth as he brought his attention back to you, the corner of his lip curling into a sly smirk.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I didn’t forget about you,” He groaned, languidly moving inside you, “Gonna make you cum so hard.”

“Please,” You mumbled, muffled by his hand as he began rolling his hips, the bulging tip of his cock catching against the spongy spot inside you with each pronounced thrust.

“Fuck,” Bakugou snarls, moving his hand from your mouth in favour of slipping it between your bodies to thumb at your clit. The sensation has your knees buckling as your weight drops, no longer able to hold yourself up. But he’s strong, keeping you pinned between his body and the wall as he keeps his unrelenting pace, “Come on, pretty girl. I know you’re close, can feel you choking me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It’s embarrassing really, how one man— a stranger, can have you coming undone like this in public no less.

“So fuckin’ noisy, shit-” He grunts, his ruby gaze intense as he watches you come undone.

Bakugou steals your climax from you, his thumb is unrelenting against your clit as he feels your cunt clamp down around him. The loud cry that spills from your lips has him wincing as he hopes no one’s decided to look down the alley for a free show— something that would certainly make the front page this very morning. He eases you through your high, the white spots that dance across your vision make it feel like you’re seeing stars. A sea of constellations against your eyelids as you succumb to the pleasure.

“You look so pretty when you cum,” He groans, his face buried in the apex of your neck as he inhales deeply, committing your scent to memory as he cherishes the way your cunt clenches around his cock.

Bakugou pushes his fat cock inside you, as deep as he can go. Until his balls are snug against the swell of your ass as he feels the tremble of your cunt coming down from your high. His warm breath scorches your neck as he gives himself a moment's respite before picking up his pace once more, greedily using your body to chase his own release. His palm pushes your thigh up higher against his hip, changing the angle as the swollen tip of his cock finds what it was searching for. The euphoria already surging through your veins is enhanced by the attention from his cock knocking against the same spot inside you over, and over, and over.

“Think you can give me one more, sweet girl?” He rasps, watching your thick lashes flutter as tears blind your vision.

“I– can’t,” You manage to get out between broken breaths, unadulterated pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Yeah, you can.” He coos, his thumb persistent against your clit as he ruts into the same spot inside you, “C’mon, for me?”

The sensation building inside you is almost painful, still overwhelmed from your last intense climax the pleasure still bubbling to the surface as Bakugou is unrelenting. It’s too much, and yet not enough at the same time.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart.” He groans, “Cum for me.”

Your body feels ungovernable as you succumb to the pleasure, a cry of his name tumbling from your lips that he doesn’t try to silence as he holds your quivering body. Preventing you from thrashing as he clings to you tightly, fingertips creating divots in your plush thigh.

“Oh fuck, there we go.” He snarls primally, nostrils flaring as he gives a few final shaky ruts of his hips, spilling his release inside the condom with a grunt as you both bask in the aftershocks of your release.

You’re certain if he let go of you now you’d collapse to the dirty floor, your legs no longer strong enough to support your weight as you cling to Bakugou. And he holds you back just as tight, dropping your sore thigh in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist as he remains buried inside your fluttering cunt.

He can still feel you spasming when he finally pulls out of you, sliding the condom off his spent cock as he shamelessly throws it onto the ground. Fixing your panties before pulling your dress back down around your thighs to hide your modesty before he moves to tuck his wet cock back inside his underwear and buttons his jeans.

You hadn’t expected him to hold you so tenderly, as though you were the world's most precious porcelain. But you both stand there for what feels like forever, basking in the afterglow as you sway side to side.

A large palm raised to cup your warm cheek, the calloused pad of his thumb brushing against the soft skin as he tilted your head to meet his gaze. Leaning forward as his eyes crossed to stare at your pouty lips, closing the distance slowly until you placed a palm on his chest.

“No kissing.” You repeated, turning your head as Bakugou pulled back, squinting at you.

“Still?” Bakugou grunts, “Why the no kissin’ bullshit?”

You couldn’t explain it to him, especially not after this. Wondering if it would be easier to make up a lie about your breath smelling or being nervous.

“I just can’t.” You sounded pathetic, internally wincing at the pitiful tone of your voice.

“Yeah, why?” He continued, “You got a boyfriend or somethin’?”

He actually looked hurt as he asked the question, his crimson gaze searching your eyes for any kind of deception as you shake your head no.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Husband?” Bakugou pushes as you shake your head again.

“No.”

“Then what’s the fuckin’ problem?” He spits, slightly more harshly than intended.

“You won’t like it,”

I don’t want to know when you die. You think to yourself.

“Like fuck I won’t.” He scoffed, “Fuckin’ dumbass.”

Bakugou caught you by surprise when he wrapped his palm around your neck, holding you so tenderly as he ducked his head forward. Catching you even more by surprise as he placed his chapped lips against yours, his tongue instantly slipping past your parted lips to delve deeper.

Fuck.

The first time you’ve actually felt something for someone this had to happen. The premonition played clearly behind your eyes as you felt Bakugou’s tongue mould against your own, a deep timber groan vibrating against your mouth as he lost himself in the kiss.

Of course, whatever higher power couldn’t just let you be happy for once, you had to see the fate in store for Bakugou Katsuki.

Pulling away from your lips as his tongue poked out to taste your lipgloss, the corner of his lips curled into a smug smirk as you stared up at him in complete horror. This wasn’t good—

You’d hoped that his death would be a peaceful one, dying a natural death surrounded by his loved ones at a ripe old age. But it was anything but, the terrifying vision now imprinted onto your memory. And you wished he never kissed you, not only so he wouldn’t die but so you wouldn’t have to see this vision every time you close your eyes.

With one kiss you’d sealed his fate.

“Fuck,” He mumbled, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath.

You’d convinced yourself that as long as you didn’t kiss him, it would be okay— but now you’d seen the future you knew nothing would be okay.

Humans are such selfish creatures.

“Yeah, fuck.” You groaned.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Timeless - III (Bob Floyd x Reader)

A/N: As promised, part 3 in time for my birthday (scheduled to post at the exact minute I was born bc why not)! It's not my finest work, but I'm relatively happy with it. Also, I done goofed and gave OC a name but tagged it as "x reader" - please feel free to just pretend the character's name isn't there, I just didn't want to write "Y/N" over and over and over again - it's written from the reader's perspective so I'm leaving it as "x reader" (also bc I'm lazy and like the parts to all match so).

pairing: Lt. Robert Floyd x reader

warnings/content: mutual pining, some angst, swearing, mildly steamy makeout sesh, Bob drops a bombshell on miss girl.

word count: 1.6k

one - two - three -

You blinked slowly as you tried to comprehend what Bob had just said. You looked at him in disbelief, letting out an awkward laugh as you felt your blood beginning to boil at his words. As much as you’d missed him, pined for him, and longed for him over the last decade, you were frustrated by the fact that this could have been avoided easily ten years ago if you or Bob had just swallowed your pride and said something to one another. While you knew you were just as much to blame on that part, it was Bob who walked away in the end, and in this moment, you couldn’t help but resent him for leaving you, then proclaiming he missed you for so long without ever so much as attempting to make contact. He at least could have asked his mother to speak to yours and provide him the contact information necessary to talk to you - you didn’t have that luxury, a) because he was often away at sea, and b) because he had left you without as much as a goodbye, leaving you under the impression that he didn’t want to see you. For some reason, hearing Bob’s admission made something inside you snap, you suddenly felt bitter and cold towards him for leaving you in the first place. 

“You missed me? Do I need to remind you that it was YOU who walked away 10 years ago? Christ, Bobby, you didn’t even have the balls to come say goodbye to me before you fucked off,” you spat angrily. 

“Listen, Krissy, let me explain,” Bob began, a pleading look in his eyes as he tried to calm you down.

“First of all, my name is Kristen. No one has called me Krissy in years. Not since you left. Secondly, I’ve been waiting, praying, hoping you’d call me. You don’t get to come back after years and hit me with this romantic “I’ve missed you so much” bullshit when you haven’t even as much as attempted to get ahold of me over the years. Do you know how many nights I spend crying when you left, wondering what the hell I did wrong to not deserve a goodbye from you? I thought I was finally over you too, and then you show back up here and remind me all over again just how fucking much I loved you. How much I still love you, and how no other man is ever going to compare to you,” You exhaled sharply as you finished ranting, shaking your head as hot tears stung your cheeks as they fell. 

“Wait, you love me?” Bob frowned as he shook his head, his blue eyes welling up with tears as he looked at you.

“For fuck sake, Bob, out of all that, this is what part stuck with you? Not the part about me needing an explanation as to why the hell you thought it was ok to just abandon your best friend?” 

Before you could continue ranting, you felt Bob’s lips crash into yours, his hands firmly grabbing your waist to pull you into his body. His grip on you was tight and passionate as his lips continued to kiss at yours, and you couldn’t help but moan softly as his tongue gently traced along your bottom lip, almost begging for entry to your mouth. You pulled away breathlessly and shook your head, looking at Bob with a completely bewildered stare.

“Care to explain that outburst, Lieutenant Floyd?” You raised an eyebrow at him and folded your arms across your chest, your gaze intense enough to make Bob worry he’d burst into flames if you didn’t look away from him. 

“Listen, Kristen, I’ve always loved you. I assumed you just…didn’t.” He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly as he blushed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I wanted to tell you, I really did, but every time I got myself psyched up to do it, I’d chicken out and back off. And then I sort of tried to forget about you - threw myself into my naval career, made sure I was one of the best WSOs in the United States, got into Top Gun, I tried my damnest to forget you, Kristen. I really did.”

Bob let out a sigh as he shook his head, his blonde hair becoming perfectly tousled as it broke free from its uniform combed back look. He frowned at you before opening his mouth, hesitating before he spoke, his voice almost in a whisper as the words came out.

“I couldn’t forget about you no matter how hard I tried. I tried dating and throwing myself into my career, I tried forcing myself to see a future with other women, but no matter how hard I tried to force it, it just made me realize I wanted you more. Then I came home and found out you’d moved to New York from Mama, and I wanted to go there and see you - I’d fully planned on coming over here and asking your folks where you lived so I could go visit, try and convince you to listen to me and give me the chance I know that I don’t deserve, and then, as I was getting my coffee the other day, planning on how the fuck I was going to do this all, you walked in and complete threw me off guard, but I love it. It just reminded me more that…that this is the right thing to do, Kristen. I could leave the entire US Navy behind, just walk away and never look back, but I cannot in good conscience leave South Carolina without telling you how I feel.” 

You sighed softly, shaking your head and frowning as your gaze met the floor, completely at a loss for words. You wanted so badly to stay mad at him for leaving without a word, but hearing that Bob had felt the same way you had for the last ten years, it made you soften towards him once again, another gentle sigh escaping your lips before you spoke, looking up to meet his cobalt blue eyes once again.

“Robert Floyd, are you saying that you love me as much as I love you?” You finally said, letting out a sharp breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. 

“I believe that’s exactly what I’m saying, Kristen.” He laughed softly, raising an eyebrow as he gently reached his hand out to touch your cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb, “I never wanted to hurt you, Krissy. I just, I was a shy and awkward 18 year old who was in love with my best friend, and I didn’t know how to tell you. I was scared you’d reject me and I decided I’d rather live with the fact that you just didn’t know how I felt, than risk telling you and you shooting me down faster than I can shoot down an enemy aircraft.”

“For a smart man, you’re kind of a dumbass, you know that, Lieutenant Floyd?” You laughed and shook your head to rid your eyes of any remaining tears that threatened to fall. 

“I know I am,” Bob grinned at you, leaning in to kiss at your cheek, just below your ear. As he pressed his lips to your soft skin, he murmured sweetly into your ear, “But, I’m your favourite dumbass, right?” 

You felt Bob’s lips turn up into a smile against your cheek, his face hovering against your skin for a moment longer as he took in the familiar scent of your perfume, the same one you’d worn since you’d turned 16 years old. His hand found his way around the small of your back as his lips trailed across your cheek playfully. When he pulled away, he gently tucked your hair behind your ear and smiled.

“What happens now? Because, knowing how you feel now, I can’t leave for San Diego without us deciding what to do about it.”

As you were about to answer, you heard your brother calling up the stairs to you both.

“Hey, Ma says to hurry it up with the serving trays, and Dad says to stop fooling around up there like a coupl’a teenagers on prom night,” You could hear your brother’s laughter echoing from the bottom of the attic staircase as he spoke. Your sister’s giggle could be heard in unison with his, and you shook your head as you shot Bob a sympathetic look.

“Nice to see they haven’t changed in the slightest,” Bob laughed softly as he grabbed two of the serving trays and smiled before leaning in to give you a peck on the cheek, “I should probably head back to my Ma’s for dinner before she starts sending out a search party, but maybe after Thanksgiving dinner is over, we can talk?” His voice sounded hopeful as he spoke.

“Absolutely,” You nodded quickly, trying to stop your cheeks from turning bright scarlet red as he kissed you, “On one condition though,” you started.

“What’s that?” 

“You promise to keep kissing me until you make me blush,” You smirked at him as you kissed his cheek, carefully straightening out his hair for him before sending him back downstairs to where your family was surely all discussing the possibilities of what could have taken place between you both in that attic.

[pastanest]

Gale Boetticher x reader

A/N: first thing I’ve ever written for this character/universe but I only recently finishing Breaking Bad (yeah I’m 8 billion years behind Ik) and this man is my mf POOKIE so pls be nice x

warnings: as of writing this I’ve not seen Better Call Saul but I’m aware Gale’s in it so if anything contradicts pieces of his lore found there PLEASE DO NOT SPOIL IT I’ll come back and amend them after I’ve seen that show as well if need be - will be using gifs from bcs tho bc there are barely any gifs from Gale in bb on the internet for some reason

Being Gale’s S/O Would Include

- first of all, Worlds Giddiest Boyfriend™️

- no like actually

- gives very much in-awe-of-everything-his-S/O-is-and-does vibes

- every single thing you tell him you’ve done is a monumental achievement to him, even down to something as simple as going to the grocery store

- LOVES to explain sciencey things to you, regardless of whether you understand the intricacies or not

- in fact, better if you don’t bc he loves going into even more detail just to make it easier for you to wrap your head around

- LEAST condescending person ever, does not believe himself to be smarter than you or anyone else (he is a genius but he’ll only blush and shake his head when you call him that) and is thoroughly impressed by everything you do and know that is outside of his area of expertise

- the king of chivalry

- opening doors for you, pulling a chair out for you, paying the bill at a restaurant, standing up whenever you walk into a room if he’s not already standing, kissing the back of your hand whenever he says goodbye to you; regardless of your gender, Gale Boetticher IS pulling out all the classic romantic stops for you

- is actually a big fan of PDA but not in a making-out-in-public way, more of a will-blush-for-three-business-days-if-you-kiss-his-cheek-in-public-one-time and absolutely loves it

- the fact that you’re proud to be his and proud to love him in front of others makes this man’s heart sing for you

- incapable of giving you anything less than the most heartfelt and expressive compliments you have ever heard in your life

“You are the prettiest star I’ve ever seen.”

“Every atom that makes me the person standing here before you, thanks you for being who you are.”

“If an asteroid hit this exact spot and you, right now, are the last thing I ever see, I will live to be the happiest man there’s ever been.”

- unbeknownst to you he actually has a separate notebook filled with compliments and poetic tidbits that he thinks up whenever he daydreams of you and then saves them up to tell you later

- doesn’t care whether you’re vegan or not obviously but will cook you the most fire vegan dishes ever known to man

- will play records just to slow dance around his apartment with you crying as I type this one fr

- will zone out and smile so fondly, just thinking of you

- the sweetest and most attentive partner in the entire world

- memorizes your every like, dislike, quirk and interest so that he can plan the most perfect dates out for you, surprise you with the most thoughtful gifts and ensure at all costs you avoid things/people/situations that could result in you feeling upset/uncomfortable

- Gale is finely tuned to your emotions and will notice IMMEDIATELY if something’s not quite right with you

“Hey, is everything alright? Actually, don’t answer that; I noticed your hands have clenched marginally more than normal over the past 15 minutes so if you’re comfortable enough to tell me why, I’d love to know, but if not, please just tell me what I can do to make whatever this is better for you.”

- stop it I adore him

[writingquestionsanswered]

Tween Boy Grief/Emotional Portrayal Q's

Anonymous asked: Do you have any tips for writing a young character with avoidance tendencies who lost someone to [tragedy]? My character is a tween boy who lost his older brother, but he's the type of person to shove his negative feelings away and fill his time doing things he enjoys and keep him busy to avoid thinking about them. Because of these specifics I'm having trouble finding advice

This actually falls into the category of questions I don't usualanswer on the blog, as outlined in my ask policies linked at the bottom of almost every ask. Part of the reason I don't answer them is the same reason why you can't find specific information about it elsewhere: everyone and every situation is different. While there can certainly be typical responses, behaviors, methods of coping, etc., how any specific person handles something like grief is dependent upon a whole mountain of variables: personality, mental health, experience, support system, and variables related to the specific situation like: What was the other person like? How close were they? How long had they known each other? What was their status at the time of the tragedy? Was this expected or unexpected? For how long? How long ago did it happen? What else was lost?

I can't give you tips for writing this young character because I don't know any of that about your characters and story. Only you do. And as the writer, it's up to you to do as much general research about this topic as you can so that you know enough about it to figure out how your specific character would react in their specific situation. And even then, there's no right or wrong answer, because even two people with the exact same set of variables can behave differently. All that matters is that it makes sense for what you lay out. For example, if you don't do the work of showing how close these brothers are and what they meant to each other, you would have a difficult time convincing the reader of your character's grief. If you want to portray this character as having avoidance tendencies, you can research those generally ("avoidance behaviors" has over six-million hits on Google...) and that will help you figure out how to make that response make sense for your character.

I hope your research goes well!

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[haptronym]

Hey!! This is the anon from a while back who had that convo with you about quirkless discrimination with your cannon vs fannon posts. The one who sent a way too long ask haha.

I still haven’t picked back up BNHA, just still dinking around in the earlier seasons with my writing after dropping it so long ago due to the exact reason you outlined; I stopped watching due to a certain character stagnating while saying they’re changing. Which I find amusing how prevalent that problem is in so many arcs that it’s the reason I stopped watching the show actual years ago (though not solely, it was that + a combination of other things with that arc but it really exasperated it) and you’re now talking about the same exact issue for the end of it. I don’t even feel like I can say it’s due to external pressures rather then just a weak point of the writer at this point tbh.

But, besides that, on the topic of why I initially started this ask, I just wanted to say it’s interesting to hear the story has still done squat with quirklessness, really goes to show the whole glaring divide in exactly what we where talking about so long ago. Full circle kinda?? It really is such a shame the show never went into it and kinda failed to scratch the surface of anything with how compelling it would have been and how easily it could have tied into the whole of the series’ themes.

But hey, like you said, there’s always fanfics. Just thought I’d send in an ask about it since it was fun talking to you about it last time.

Now that it’s over, I might give the show another shot, for old times sake, we’ll see!

Oh as an add on, as the fannon vs cannon anon, I do want to put a note that since I haven’t seen the thing myself I’m not making too strong opinions on it or agreeing with everything in that post, just contemplating the specific stuff I talked about in that previous anon ask as a sort of now outsider to the series.

This isn’t a “oh you’re wrong!” but making sure people know I’m not blindly following things I’ve read about a series rather then forming opinions around it from first hand cannon, HA! I’ll do that when I maybe start watching it again…one day…

-

(The post under discussion)

Hello again! Glad you're still enjoying the fandom space and haha, it's ironic that this issue is why you dropped the show. I'm also going to caveat that I'm not trying to dunk on Horikoshi or be a bitter hater. The issues I'm bringing up are par for the course for most serial writing, way harder to avoid than they seem. I really liked MHA overall and have huge respect for Horikoshi's writing, art, and ability to keep his sanity while bringing this behemoth to life.

Anyway, a response.

I mentioned a few aspects where quirklessness got brought in later in the story, but overall, yeah, it still felt kind of… vestigial. To me it felt like the author threw it out there at first thinking it was a cool idea, then later went "ugh, shit, that's not actually where I want to focus. I can't retcon it, so let's just... minimize it and move on." A lot of times when big series start, they toss out a whole bunch of possible story hooks and then narrow down to just a few that they're actually going to spend serious time on... anyone who gets hooked on a premise that doesn't end up being developed further can be left feeling disappointed.

I suspect this is exactly the reason why MHA has such a giant fandom. The show's clown-car cast means that pretty much no character really gets "deep" treatment. Instead we get 1,000 tantalizing flashes of really, really cool possibilities. We get sucked in by an awesome idea, get frustrated when the cool character/premise barely gets touched again after that, and then feverishly fill the empty space with fanfic and fanart. (I'm lucky that my favorites, Izuku and All Might, were about the most main of main characters, and even they felt somewhat shallow. I can't imagine the agony of being, say, a Momo fan.)

Unfortunately when a story does this, it also means that it's inevitably going to disappoint its fanbase. It tossed out 1,000 awesome ideas but it only has space to cultivate a small handful of those into proper plotlines… not only is it sad to see all the unused plot threads peter out, but usually the realized story ends up outright contradicting at least a few very popular fan theories and hopes. This doesn't mean the story's bad, far from it. But in these weekly-chapter stories where fans have years or decades to get attached to their interpretations and predictions, praying each week that yes, it seems like a long shot, but maybe the story will veer off into X… things quickly spiral into enormous bitterness when those decades of hope are finally snuffed out for good. (This same phenomenon makes me dread the eventual end of One Piece…)

MHA had a lot of people going "it's not like other shonen!" because it had lots of promising ideas. But it turned out that… yes, it is just another shonen. Shonen are tons of fun, and I love MHA overall. But man, it got hit hard by those high expectations.

I was a bit harsh (and incorrect) in my post, saying Izuku/All Might haven't changed at ALL, and that quirklessness meant NOTHING. It gets outright confusing when there are characterization backsies like the ones I described. Which is canon: the single panel where a character says "quirklessness is a big deal to me!" or the way that every other character behavior and plot point screams "sure doesn't seem like it"? They're both real. And this discrepancy depends on the reader's interpretation too: I'm extremely picky about characterization, while someone less anal might not see any contradiction at all. So we get All Might fans insisting that the show made quirkless issues into a huge enormous part of the plot/characters, and meanwhile I don't see it, and get annoyed and preachy because it feels like the narrative is being unfairly ascribed depth and profundity that I really wanted but never actually saw from it. How dare!

ANYWAY, I highly recommend checking out the rest of the show. I have a feeling the final arc is going to look amazing in animated form once it's finally done. The final section is a combo of delightfully over-the-top shonen insanity and surprisingly weighty outcomes. We can debate whether it really earned those outcomes, but I'm at least pleased that it tried.

[addictedtostorytelling]

Still loving the newest addition to the Happy Accidents series & your last chapter got me thinking about a potential scene I would love to hear from your perspective (or maybe you’ve already written it & I’ve just got to be patient…)

In the last chapter you mentioned Sara’s PTSD & Grissom was so sweet. Particularly this part “She knows why he is worried: Over the years, he has learned to associate nerviness in her with periods when her mental health is poor. She isn’t usually quick to startle, but during the times when her PTSD is bad—around anniversaries—she can be. She gets so in her own head that anything happening outside has the potential to shock.”

It got me thinking about how in this alternate universe, Sara would be about 6-7 months pregnant when the anniversary of her abduction came & I would love to read her thoughts on that & how Grissom helps her deal with it. Does it cause her to reflect on how different her life looks now than a year ago? Does she think about all the reasons she didn’t give up in the desert? Does she feel the baby kick & is brought out of her thoughts, grateful for how her life looks?

And if you’ve already written a scene like this…I’ll sit over here (im)patiently waiting.

hi, @chelsshearman!

good to hear from you again! i'm so glad to know you're enjoying the story so far.

i've taken a while to come up with an answer to your (very thoughtful) question, and though i can't show any prose from that part of the story just yet without revealing some major accidentsverse spoilers, i can offer you a more pared down answer after the "keep reading," if you're interested.

note: in order to avoid major accidentsverse spoilers, i purposefully use ambiguous language surrounding sara's pregnancy in this answer.

__

sara knows from experience: trauma doesn't adhere to a strict calendar.

sometimes exact anniversaries are bad, but other times the days and weeks surrounding are when the cptsd symptoms really hit.

november has historically been a crapshoot for her, any day—not just the exact anniversary of her father's murder—liable to be a bad one, the whole month something of a slog.

though she is hopeful: now that her wedding anniversary falls mid-month, maybe she'll have better associations going forward.

she is well-aware of this temporal idiosyncrasy in her brain, and so is her therapist, which is why he starts counseling with her in mid-april about what to anticipate come may, for what will be the first anniversary of her abduction by natalie davis.

admittedly, she is, at this point, distracted. not only is there a lot going on in her life pregnancy-wise, but things are busier than ever at work. by now, she is no longer in the field and has instead become the de facto "point person" for her teammates at the lab, which, contrary to what she had expected, has somehow upped her caseload. still, she tries her best to complete her therapy assignments with what few spare hours she has. is diligent about going in for sessions. practices all of the self-care techniques her therapist recommends. stays on top of taking her meds. makes sure to look after herself as well as she can.

—and especially because grissom is so obviously worried about her.

not only does he admit as much outright, sans prompting, but he also is so careful with her. he had already been wonderfully attentive, but now she hardly even has to think she might want something before he appears to offer it. she swears to god: the man is telepathic. also, far too sweet.

thankfully, as the calendar turns over into may, there are some fun, new pregnancy developments to help to take her mind off the impending anniversary: grissom is finally able to feel kicking. (for a long time, she had felt fetal movements internally, but they hadn't been detectable in any external way.) also, a first instance of fetal hiccups, which is just about the weirdest, coolest sensation she has ever experienced.

that said, about two weeks before the big anniversary™, she does start experiencing some "trauma residuals" from her abduction. she's not having flashbacks or nightmares or full-on panic attacks, per se; she just feels off. spacey. emotionally unbalanced. like everything in her head has just been shifted two inches to the left of where it should be.

she keeps expecting to have some kind of big breakdown at some point, but the catharsis doesn't ever come.

and, honestly, the lack of punctuation is what bothers her more than anything.

she confides in grissom: she's scared. she tried to get out ahead of her trauma by "doing all the right things," but she is still being affected, not in any obvious, dramatic way but enough so that her trauma is inarguably impacting her behavior. coworkers keep asking her if she’s okay. looking like they don’t fully believe her when she says she is. she can’t help but be concerned: what if the same thing happens a few years on from now? the last thing in the world she would ever want to do to her child(ren) is make them feel like mommy's sad or upset for no reason.

so she and grissom talk the issue through: they both agree that trauma is a fickle thing—particularly as trauma reactions can't always be pinned down to one day or easily predicted in terms of how they'll manifest. show great variance in intensity, duration, form, etc. also can't be totally prevented, even if one tries to account for them as much as possible. chances are, she will be dealing with after effects—from her childhood, from her abduction—for the rest of her life.

sara explains: logically, she knows all of these things. but she still doesn't want their child(ren) to suffer for having a traumatized parent. she has experience that way with her own mother. remembers how helpless she felt when she was little, watching her mother struggle; how much she internalized her mother's sadness and anger. though as an adult, she (mostly) knows better now, back then, she wondered if she caused or exacerbated her mother’s misery and questioned why she wasn't enough to make her mother happier.

here, grissom digs in: "and did your mother ever answer those questions for you?"

her silence tells him no.

grissom offers his postulate: the truth might have helped—not by making sara’s mother “magically better” but by allowing sara, even as a child, to contextualize the situation and understand her mother's mental health conditions existed independent of anything having to do with her. just hearing, in no uncertain terms, that her mother wasn’t sad for any reason having to do with her may have alleviated some of her misplaced guilt.

sara agrees: they should be honest with their child(ren) and explain things at a level they can understand.

but she still worries: it will be a long time yet before they can have those kinds of honest conversations. what will happen in the meanwhile? babies pick up on their caretakers' cues and moods, after all. she doesn’t want to do damage by exuding sadness or fear in their child(ren)’s presence.

grissom reassures her: in all the time they've been together, even during periods when her mental health has been at its poorest ("even in november"), he has always felt loved by and safe with her. he has not been oblivious to her sadness and fear. but he also has never felt that those reactions in her negated her affections. he suspects their child(ren) will feel the same.

still, she makes him promise: if she ever gets to the point where she can't be a good caretaker of their child(ren), he'll intervene. "that was part of the problem," she explains, "with my parents. no matter how miserable things got, no one said anything or did anything about it. no one asked for help. we all just sat there with it."

grissom agrees: they'll ask for help if they need it. offer help when they see it's needed, even if it hasn't been asked for. and neither one of them will give up.

the promise does make sara feel somewhat better.

—though, of course, it doesn’t fully alleviate her cptsd symptoms.

may proves to be a hard month, not only because of the trauma but for other reasons, too.

[insert major accidentsverse spoilers here]

but it also is not without happy moments—sometimes impossibly happy, like the first time they see a footprint, clearly discernible for what it is, show through the skin of her belly—and, most importantly, never without love.

she reflects: one year ago, she was alone in a desert, sure she was going to die. now, she is never alone, and she has never been surer of what she has to live for. lying in bed with grissom, his hand over the footprint protruding slightly below her navel, she feels a kind of peace she could never have imagined she would feel, just one year on from that day. she knows: what happened to her will stay with her for the rest of her life—will sometimes rear up in unaccountable ways—but it won’t be what defines her. won’t be the main throughline in her story. she’s writing that one herself, here, now. and she loves where her story is headed.   

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

[rottenhashira]

Hiyaaa~~~ 🎋

I’m Alex or Ly.

I go by any pronouns.

This acc is 18+. Even if its just to focus on a kny AU, it will contain smut or suggestive drawings.

I’m a digital artist and an inexperienced writer(for fun!)

KNY only! Not spoiler free!

STATUS: HOLD

Rot Hashira is an AU made by myself, I am just one person working on this au so content might be slow.

This is just a resumed version, there’s so much more to the story and lore of this au which will be told with art pieces. Plz be patient 🎋🪷

The AU takes place right after Tanjiro Kamado(Sun Hashira defeat Muzan with the help of the kamaboko squad, which are Hashira aswell(I would like to mention that NONE of them are minors, they’re all adults in this au).

Once Kamado defeated Muzan, the ghost of Yorichii appears before Tanjiro and only he can see him. Yorichii shows Kamado a vision of the future, that this war was not finish but it could be if he takes action right here and now. Kamado thinks he is ready for his last task but only if he knew…

Yorichii’s ghost guided the young hashira to the place of his mission leaving the others behind to rest, the hashira comes to a stop in front of a deserted cabin not so far from the battle field he just been in. Once Kamado realized that his final enemy lies behind this door, he took a deep breath in to prepare his lungs since this enemy won’t run away and its unlike anyone he has faced before…

An infant rested in the cabin, in a well clean wooden crib. A baby girl to be exact, dark long hair, tiny, sharp nails and ruby red eyes with a slit in the middle similar to the ones of a cat’s pupils. “Its just an infant… its just a girl… what sort of image and threat does she poised that I cannot avoid?…” Kamado looked at the infant in awe as Yorichii’s ghost stand beside the crib leaning over it “This is non other the offspring of the demon king, Muzan. Know that she’ll grow from a girl to an avenger, one fueled with vengeance once come of age… if you don’t end it now you wont have no one to save.. you can say goodbye to Nezuko, your friends… your family..”

Kamado quickly dropped his blade and took the infant on his arms to comfort her “I can raise it as my own! I’ll take her far from home! I’ll make sure her past is never known! Please I’m on my knees for you!” The sun hashira begged on his knees to Yorichii’s ghost who looked down at him in disappointment.

“Please dont make me do this Yorichii! Please there has to be another way, please guide me!” Kamado yelled with tears in his eyes, he could only picture his younger siblings in this infant… he just couldn’t..

“Young Kamado… I apologize. It seemed I’ve chosen the wrong soul for the task.” Those wore Yorichii’s last words before vanishing, leaving the sun hashira alone with the infant.

Kamado decided it was best to escape from everyone and everything he knew. He took the infant and ran, ran till his legs failed him, till his lungs ached in pain, far… please so far..

Kamado’s heart ached at the fact he had to leave his friends and famiky behind with out a goodbye. He left behind the Rengoku family, the man who adopted him and his sister, who gave him a family to call his. The love of his life, Kanao… even tho she kept rejecting him, he loved her with everything he got. His best friends, Zenitsu and Inosuke, brothers at this point, he couldn’t congrats him on his 3rd happy marriage. The reason he even became a demon slayer, Nezuko… he hated he couldn’t tell her anything or even leave her a letter, he hated he couldn’t congratulate her on her second child with her new husband Muichiro…

Tanjiro took the infant far, so far, a journey that took him a month to reach to. He took her to a mountain house he bought, the house was very similar to the one he lived when he was a child. He decided to call the infant “Hina” which meant sun or bright! She was his sun, Hina gave him the opportunity to live a tamed lifestyle he craved, he loved Hina like if she was his.

Years passed and Hina grew up like a well taken care of Framboyán tree. You couldn’t even guess she was the daughter of such cruel man like Muzan, she was a kind soul thanks to her father, Tanjiro. Kamado was luckily abled to give her an animal based diet like him and since they were a small family, they had lotz of time together so he taught her sun breathing, the fire dance his father passed down to him and he passed down his ear rings to her.

Years passed and they lived happily together until one night… a young looking hashira found them. The hashira had a white haori and bells decorated his sandal’s back, he had long pointy fox ears which were pierced with bells and red ribbons, he also had a fox tail… he was a demon? A demon as a hashira? Who?…

Kamado’s heart raced knowing exactly why he was here, kamado reached to a certain age where his skills were now failing him so he couldn’t do much but that didn’t brought him down, he will protect his daughter.

The demon hashira paused dropping his figthing stance “Tanjiro?…” the hashira let out with a curios tone. “Tanjiro is that really you? Its me! Sabito! We used to be partners in the demon slayer corp!” Sabito let out rushing closer to him, he circled him to inspect him from head to toe. “Look at you! You’re not so bad for an old man!” Sabito let out with a friendly chuckle until he took a good sniff.

“Tanjiro, you smell… different.”

//skipping catching up details

The fox friend could sniff a smell, it wasn’t putrid or terrible like demons commonly have… in the contrary, it was a scent of vanilla, he didn’t knew how to put it but it was a tamed smell… so comforting and relaxing but it had a strong hint of power, the smoke before the forest fire…

Sabito stepped in between Tanjiro and his house in a defensive posture to protect his old friend. A young lady walked out the door, her face expressed concern for her Tanjiro, her irises glow a ruby red just like Muzan’s and this shocked Sabito. Sabito’s hands trembled around his blade’s handle as a soft growl sneaked up his throat “I thought we killed you! You’re like a fucking plague!” The river kitsune spit with venom.

Tanjiro quickly stepped in between them to ease Sabito, Sabito didn’t backed down realizing that Tanjiro was defending this beautiful young woman who was clearly a demon, Muzan. Tanjiro was now considered as an enemy, betrayal... both of them broke into a fight to the death, Tanjiro had the advantage with his sun breathing technique but before he could slash Sabito’s neck he had flashbacks of their friendship so Kamado redirected his blade away from his throat, slashing some hair off Sabito. Sabito took this as an open door and used his demon blood art to leave a serious deep injury on Tanjiro’s chest with heavy pressured water.

Hina saw it all, she rushed to her father aid in terror, she cover him trying to protect him as her tears rushed in. Tanjiro made sure to comfort her in his last moments… “please… promise me you won’t eat human flesh… never.” Hina nodded in confusion as she cried hysterically begging Tanjiro to stay with her as Sabito was shocked seeing a demon with Muzan’s blood pump in their veins protecting a human.

Once Tanjiro’s hand became weak, Hina was fueled with anger and vengeance, Hina aimed her hand to Sabito as her arm’s veins were turning blood red, her nails becoming longer as her mouth drooled. Sabito’s eyes widen as he felt his internal organs moving, his blood was moving to places it shouldn’t, his body didn’t respond to him, this body wasn’t his anymore… blood rushed up his throat, every exit in his body was leaking a concerning amount of blood as his veins pop through his flesh.

Tanjiro reunited enough strength to hold her arm, this made her drop everything she was doing and attend her dying father, her focus was on only him. “Please don’t… I-I’ll wait for you Hina… I’ll always be with you…” Kamado dropped his hand as he took his final breath in Hina’s arms, Hina cradled her hold man’s corpse, her cries filled the forest and Sabito was no where to be found.

“Hashiras huh?…” the voice of a man was herd in the darkness of the forest. Two glowing orbs appeared, rainbow colored that coexisted just right in his irises.. a demon.

“What do you want?.” Hina growled as she just finished her father’s grave.

“I want to help you… princess…” The white kitsune grinned extending his arm to her.

Credits:

Teeth Divider: @//mmadeinheavenn

Art: @//rottencoreflesh101

Story inspiration:

[badluvkii]

late night with the devil review

just to note : i am reviewing this movie , from the mind of a young woman who doesn’t have any critique qualifications but just someone who loves horror movies . also to note that i have experienced MANY deaths to cancer in my life and it really affected me i’ve had years of grief therapy and counselling to make me feel better about it but it still can’t heal the trauma i’ve experienced by it . the word of the illness makes me shiver and i can’t walk into hospitals , every time i see breathing masks in movies i have to look away . it’s my weak spot . i’ve watched countless gore movies and it’s fine to me but any mention of that illness makes me react

i overall really liked the movie , i liked the old tv channel theme and i loved the way the whole movie was shot like that , i think the fact they could make a good disturbing feeling without relying on cliches like jumpscares and it had very little overuse of dark lighting and loud noises . before starting the movie i talked about how i hope it doesn’t rely on cheap cliches like that and it met up to my expectations! i really liked that . anyway i liked how the breaks (adverts for england) were called in different parts of the show when tension was building so it creates more tension in the long run for when the next part is shown . i think a lot of people don’t like this but i like how everything was crammed in the end . i have critiqued some things for this like the tangi virus on youtube . but i think this movie did it in a good way , tangi virus fully changed pacing and format but this movie did it in an amazing way and i have adhd and i feel like it helped me focus very well where i usually cant focus . it showed his state of mind , that’s what i mean , it showed his thoughts and memories which fit the story whereas tangi virus was a cheap way to cram everything into the end . i have the exact opposite critique for late night with the devil

as i mentioned before i’ve experienced a huge amount of loss from cancer , the worst case being a loved one with lung cancer . the type that was used in this film . everyone in my account who follows me know that saw is my all time favorite series , i’ve watched all of the movies countless times and i love to analyse everything about all the movies , but there is a strong theme of cancer in the franchise with john kramer . i can sit through movies with these themes although i’ll always cry just a little bit . i mean saw 3 and x are my drawn favourites in the whole of the franchise because i think they portray the reality well and saw 3 shows accurate themes of grief and survivors guilt . i think the use of cancer in this movie however was borderline exploitative . his wife’s lung cancer didn’t really come into the story at any point other than giving a reason for jack to kill lilly . the intense monologue of jack talking to his wife before killing her was extremely upsetting to me , it was also very very long , it felt like the longest time for me , i couldn’t look at the screen either i was just crying , heavily , you could hear me loudly though i was trying really hard to stop it was really embarrassing because i hate to cry in public and always avoid it (i was in a cinema with my family) . i feel like there could’ve been another way to kill off lilly [for anyone reading that hasn’t watched , lilly isn’t his wife he hallucinated his wife when killing lilly] . i also didn’t like that the cancer was being used as the horror , when they used the flashes of his wife’s face on the swirly wheel and on the side of lilly’s face it felt like it was being a little bit exploitative and using the face of a person with a life ruining terminal illness as a scare . the use of his wife to kill lilly was more understandable though i didn’t like it but when that was used i couldn’t understand that .

in terms of gore , everyone knows i am basically a queen of gore , i have a strong stomach . i work at a vets . i have watched movies a lot lower than saw on an iceburg because i know i can handle it and extreme horror is my interest . i was expecting more of the gore when i saw it on the warnings but i think it was done creatively . i liked the worms thing it was interesting,.,,,, everyone knows on this account my soft spot is eyes , i think the vaccuum , venus flytrap and impalement wheel are the most disturbing traps in saw . i didn’t like the eye parts of terrifier it’s the only gore that will make me cringe . when the worms came out his eye i cringed from my fear of eyes but it was a lot tamer than i thought so i managed to sit through an eye gore scene comfortably finally , i really liked it though . i think the worms scene was the coolest . (i mean if you wanna know how bad my eye fear is sometimes i get nervous if i remember i have eyes and one time i was paranoid i popped one of my eyes out even though i could see i still have two eyes , that’s how bad my fear is haha) . i think the head snapping was a little goofy , i think the neck slit was also goofy and the burning? melting? thing was cool although it looked a bit off like way too cool toned (he so deserved that i hated him) . and the lilly electric glitch was cool . the gore was off in a way like the worms was the most realistic although that still had flaws . i loved that though it added to the theme , everything was slightly uncanny valley . going back to cancer , the spx didn’t match how someone with late stage looks like in the scene when he killed his wife it looked way too clean and smooth , i have flashbacks and trauma from seeing people i love in the late stages and the affects of chemotherapy as well as the illness . it doesn’t really match at all , they definitely don’t look as healthy as his wife (sorry to keep dickriding saw but it’s so much more accurate in saw) . i couldn’t watch a lot i just kept glancing to still get the story but when she pulled out a breathing mask at some point i couldn’t do it anymore so i can’t remember very well but it didn’t match . the scene of his wife with the hypnotism screen behind her sticks with me though , that was a lot .

i watched this with some older members of my family (i’m the youngest in the family and i was affected most with the trauma , they didn’t cry but i did a lot and the even word makes me upset so ,,) and they all agreed this would be one of their favorite movies if it weren’t for the fact that topic was kind of dragged in . i said i think they used it as a time filler with the extended monologue with his wife especially. they agreed after i said that . overall i’m not gonna let that affect my review as me using my trauma as a reason to dislike something is kind of unfair . not everyone was experienced loss to cancer especially not as bad as i’ve experienced it so they don’t understand . i think it was a really good movie so i’m going to ignore that whole theme and review everything else , i honestly think it was really good !! i loved how everyone was displayed, a fake (who turned out to actually contact a spirit) , a critic , the tv presenter trying to save his career , a girl possessed by a demon and her carer. it showed all sides and jack’s show partner (i can’t remember his name) was really good and likeable .

i honestly feel like ignoring the upsetting topic that would’ve been one of my favourite movies ever “but the topic is in saw too , i know , i said it’s bc they approached it differently . overall it’s just below my top 5 (saw franchise , terrifier movies , martyrs , pearl , texas chainsaw masacre (bc it’s funny))

i feel like using the theme was ok but using it for scares was mean and the extended dialogue was for burning time . i liked how they used a bright cheery setting for a movie meant to scare you!!! great watch if you’re not crying haha

[lesbenson]

#it’s hilarious bc they’re mad that it’s not true and they’re mad at her for saying it#like. ITS NOT TRUE AT THIS EXACT MOMENT IN TIME BUT ITS ALSO NOT LIKE ITS NOT ROOTED IN FACT#HE DOES HAVE A LONG SIGNIFICANT TRACK RECORD OF EMOTIONAL UNAVAILABILITY#THE PROBLEM IS THAT LIV IS CITING THAT AS THE REASON FOR HER RELATIONSHIP STATUS#LIKE GIRL. OKAY GIRL. OKAY

its so funny. sorry the art of nuance has been lost on you. sorry that you're so used to media spoonfeeding you with characters saying their exact emotion, singular, because only one thing can be true at a time therefore everything else is false and a lie and is bad morally because its a lie. Sorry my dudes, this is the "Cops are good and can protect rape victims sometimes" show, its a fantasy. Leave your morals at the Dun Dun. There's not only one correct answer.

SHDHRJDHD in their defense svu Has honestly been doing exactly that - spoon feeding us the singular views and emotions of each character - for a lot of seasons (s19 and s20 off the top of my head are the very worst about it) and there’s definitely been a tonal shift this season i think bc of the writer switch and maybe the directing style? a little more moody and mysterious re: characters internal monologues. which i LOVE. but like admittedly in recent years liv has just either plainly stated her exact feelings or just gaslit people (amanda) or avoided dealing in emotions altogether. irl i’ve been calling svu the mcu of tv in that it’s meant to hold your attention and not actually make you think too hard (especially 2.0) 💀

but i do think this is a ridiculous thing for people to be up in arms about LOL like i said elliot has definitely been emotionally unavailable in significant ways and liv isn’t really wrong for saying it now but it’s another very funny Liv Thing to me where she gives such a random description of her feelings about elliot that it’s almost MORE intense than just saying she loves him. the main one for me has always been when she tells amanda “no one looked out for me the way he did” when elliot first comes back and while of course that’s true i think it is SUCH a random description of their dynamic to someone who has no idea what benson and stabler actually were. that being the thing that liv emphasizes in the middle of all the chaos when elliot comes back is really :( to me. like she feels responsible for looking out for Him in rotps and she’s thinking a lot about who had her back 20 years ago. screams.

[monsterkong]

The Grind Never Stops: How Work Ethic Defines Success

You’ve probably heard a lot of motivational speeches about success and hard work. But let’s be real—some people just don’t want to put in the effort. 🙅‍♂️ I’ve seen it firsthand: people who don’t want to make calls, who avoid tough tasks, and simply can’t be bothered to grind. And guess what? That’s the exact reason some people succeed while others don’t. 💡

The Work Ethic That Separates Winners 🏅

Here’s the thing—every successful person I know is a workaholic. They don’t just dabble in their work; they go all in. They’re relentless in their pursuit of success, and they don’t complain when things get tough. 💪 They have thick skin, and they know how to push through adversity. 📈

If you’re serious about building something great, you need to develop this kind of work ethic. Not just showing up, but truly giving it your all. No shortcuts, no complaints, just a mindset focused on results. 🚀

Surviving the Tough Times 🌪️

Let me tell you, I’ve been to the brink in my business. I’ve faced moments where I thought everything was going to collapse. 😩 It’s been a rollercoaster of challenges and victories, but the only way I’ve survived—and even thrived—was by adopting an insane work ethic.

In the past six months, I’ve grown more than I did in the years before. That’s not an accident—it’s the result of intense focus, relentless effort, and pushing through, no matter how tough things got. 🌟

The Bottom Line 📝

If you want to succeed, you need to be prepared for the grind. There’s no secret formula, no magic bullet—it’s all about work. The ones who make it to the top? They’re the ones who keep going, no matter how many obstacles stand in their way. 🌱

So, let’s embrace the grind, push past the challenges, and work like there’s no tomorrow. Because at the end of the day, work ethic is what separates the winners from the rest. 🔥

[dailydivination365]

What a weird dream...

I had a really weird dream last night. One of my cats was pregnant and, for some reason, stopped being pregnant. It made me sad, so my partner and I had sex. I decided to impregnate her without telling her. For some reason, I thought she wouldn’t know I did this, so I kept it to myself. It bothered me all day that I was hiding the secret from her, so at night, in our home's basement, I told her, to which she responded in a dead pan tone, that she knew the whole time. I was taken aback by her lack of emotion, initially thinking she’d be furious when the dream ended.

When I woke up, I thought it was a good opportunity to do an I Ching and Tarot reading for the dream since it was so jarring. Not surprisingly, both readings offered a unique perspective and gave me a good idea of what the dream represented symbolically.

After the I Ching reading, which I did first, I realized that I was avoiding a potential conflict out of a desire of what I wanted. Sex is an intimate and vulnerable experience for me. Sharing that with someone is always a challenge, sometimes even with my partner, whom I’ve been with for close to 6 years. I also have a desire to care for people. I mention in many of my posts how my purpose is to help people discover themselves. In a way, that’s like being a parent. But the fact that I was hiding that from the world shows my shame in feeling this way.

Upon realizing this, the movement led me to a place where I could know what I really felt and not be afraid of expressing it. It allows me to have the innermost sincerity. I don’t want to express it symbolically hidden in a basement but on the main floors of my home, during peak daylight, where everyone can see. 

I went into the tarot reading with this knowledge and I was faced with an unexpected situation. The reading was negative. The more I thought about it the more it felt like a warning. While I was afraid to express myself in the dream, I was acting on selfish desires and scheming to get my way. I wanted something and abused my surroundings to get what i wanted. Obviously, this the exact opposite of what I want to do.

I thought that maybe this was a warning. Since I was uncertain, I asked the tarot if I understood correctly and found that I did. Conflict will inevitably arise if I’m not honest with myself and the world around me. Being able to sit in the dangerous waters of my unconscious, not being afraid of being swallowed up, shows the resolution to my problem. My dream could have been avoided if I had the gall to communicate what I wanted. 

I’m afraid to be open with every post, but I always do it. I do it because I know it’s the right thing to do and will help me achieve my purpose. It seems the dream told me to continue being honest with myself and the world. It’s telling me to keep posting my thoughts, feelings, and revelations. It also told me not to take advantage of situations to get what I want - an underhanded tactic. All I can say is thank you to my unconscious for showing me the truth without reservation and for the universe to guide me in understanding that truth.

JARGON SECTION:

I Ching Reading:

Q: What does this dream mean?

10. Treading (conduct) - Heaven over Mountain - Moving lines: 4th

Transformed hexagram: 61. Innermost sincerity - Wind over Lake

Tarot:

Q1: What does this dream mean?

Deck: Rider-Waite

Spread: 3-card spread (situation, problem, resolution)

Situation: 6 of Pentacles (Reversed)

Problem: The Fool (Reversed)

Resolution: Ten of Pentacles (Reversed)

Q2: Is my interpretation of the reading correct?

Deck: Rider-Waite

Spread: 3-card spread (situation, problem, resolution)

Situation: Five of swords

Problem: Knight of Swords (Reversed)

Resolution: King of Cups

[payservewomen]

….I look up to see her stroll over to my backpack…She began screaming at me….throwing each item from my bag at me. This might’ve been the most humiliating moment(shockingly)because i had a chastity cage, wartenburg wheel, a hollow butt plug, and ofc a collar/leash which she’d actually told me to bring, she’d said “I’m going dancing tonight, so bring the leash”

Couldn’t for the life of me figure out how/why those 2 things were connected?🤷‍♂️

All i can come up with is- Dancing means she’d be drinking? Therefore, would enjoy being more aggressive? But saying that to me, maybe she was thinking that I’d get extra excited, and hopeful that she’d have me wear it for whatever reason…my thought was of myself wearing it, and taking slap after slap from her, as she used the leash to pull me closer….but nope! When everything else was laying out all over the sidewalk for everyone to see, she took out the leash/collar and began beating tf outta me…as i bent over, at first on my knees, then falling over tryna shield myself from the beating….at first it was just my back and body, but as she yelled at me, she condemned my poor decisions…ofc those being spending HER money on useless shit. Useless because- Nobody wants to use kinky sex toys with a loser like me….”Wtf you think, huh? U think I would ever wanna use this shit with YOU?! You gon’ learn bitch, you don’t spend MY motherfuckin money on bullshit! Stupid ass ugly fuck!”

Something like this is what she said…I was genuinely shocked at how brutal she was being!

Evidently, she’s paid attention to, and read many things i’ve commented on, on twitter….part of me wants to believe there’s some mutual respect or something there, but tbh, that’s silly n stupid af!

I couldn’t believe it, she held onto the collar part, and swung, hitting me with the leather handle of the leash, while also getting hit by part of the chain….she screamed n berated me sooo loudly, by this point, i could faintly hear ppl laughing and talking from the shadows…..I tried looking around a little, even glancing at her friend who was sure to keep her distance but was watching the show intently….then, Goddess adjusted her grip, holding onto the collar and leash handle….leaving only the metal chain to beat me with…..she swung n swung, hitting my back, sides…everywhere….Think then, she asked me something a few times, making me look up at her, and when i did, I took painful shots to back of my head, but also the chain wrapped around my head, whipping my face and neck.

I still remember feeling the chain land on the side of my head perfectly as it wrapped around my face causing extreme pain.

I was somewhat in a state of shock….I’ve never in my life been beaten up…once many years ago, I was punched in side of my head hard enough to throw my body to the ground….That’s literally IT!

This was by far by far the most/worst beating I’ve ever received in my entire life.

Shorts down around my ankles, lying on my side, like if ur on ur knees and knocked over, but hunched down, cuz of tryna avoid the chain beating…..She stepped on my head at first, pushing my face into the concrete, yelling at me to lick it, i ofc did, and she stomped my head a few times…once bouncing it off the concrete….she backed up, looking at me…..said “fuck i should make ur bitch ass walk home like this” looking over at her friend while laughing…yeh know what? Take em off bitch! I was still in a state of confusion and haze after going through such violence…at this point, there was no horny feeling, nothing erotic at all…at this point, it was more shock than anything, and I obeyed without even thinking, but as I began to take them off, I did realize “oh fuck, my phone!” As i slid my shorts over my shoes, I slid my phone and vape out, leaving them on the ground, just hoping she wouldn’t demand i hand that over too! She took my shorts, holding them up, then going back to my bag, she took out an extra shirt and shorts i’d brought(with this exact scenario in mind) “Oh so you brought extra clothes, huh? What, ur dumbass thinking I’d just not notice?! Huh?! stupid fuck” And she took it all with her…

Oh and I neglected to mention…just before dumping out all the sex toys, causing me to be red faced beyond belief, she took out everything one by one, asking “is this for me?” Something about how she did that…me lying there, completely emasculated, then asking if each item was indeed for her….Wonder what would’ve happened if i’d have said no to any of it, lol can you imagine??

Here I sit, on a monday, at 1pm, remembering this beyond sexy, gorgeous Goddess(Seriously, my god, she had a tiny top on, but her skirt?!😲 Hugging her curvy hips like nothing i’ve ever seen)who beat my ass on saturday evening…yesterday, I did nothing, just laid around in bed all day….I suppose tryna repair my broken ego…..And STILL haven’t jerked off!

For many reasons really….

[stegrossaurus]

Brain Drain

Brain Drain

by Fabian

I woke up with a headache and nausea. The room spun and my feet felt like they had to go through a whirlpool just to get to the carpet. Fairly standard morning.

At breakfast, my parents waited with fake smiles and pamphlets for just the right time to ask. I tried to scarf down everything as quickly as possible, but they beat me to it.

Mom started things off, talking with exceeding gentleness like I'm an excitable toddler. "Fabian, have you given any thought to the school we showed you?"

"It looks like such a great place, right, son?" Dad dutifully simped right after. "You could fit right in and maybe even try out for sports. You used to love baseball, remember?"

They were speaking of the Rayner Institute, a helmet-and-water-wings school/prison where parents dump off teenagers who can't sing the alphabet song. Or the ones they “accidently” threw down the stairs when they were 11. Tweedledumbass and Tweedledipshit shoved the pamphlets in my face and gushed about the lovely campus and all the fun activities. You know, like making Play-do giraffes and getting drugged to the gills by thugs in white coats.

I’d had enough practice controlling my anger to not shove the pamphlets up their asses. Instead, I just told them, “I’m good at my school, thanks. I get mostly As and Bs, so there’s no need to worry about my grades.”

Mom’s face clouded. “But, Fabian, aren’t you still being bullied?”

My head started to surge with pain, but I’d had just as much practice hiding that. “No, not anymore. The teachers put an end to that. I should go. Love you. Bye.” I swallowed what’s left of my breakfast and bolted out the door. Lying and smooth exits were things I still needed to work on.

Telling them about Javier was a mistake. I actually thought they’d be understanding, but instead, they just used it as another reason to send me away. Anything to assuage their guilt and avoid any kind of blame. For the last five years, I’d given my all to get good grades, manage my temper, avoid fights, never complain, take my meds; anything to get that two-headed dick of a parent to leave me alone. That morning, I saw no reason to change that policy. Any bit of good behavior is a bit more proof that I don’t need the Rayner Institute.

So, when teachers rolled their eyes while I tried to finish a problem, I ignored it. When Javier swiped my cane and shoved me to the floor, I didn't retaliate. When he and his friends stole my bag, ripped up my notes, ate my lunch, and threatened to beat me up if any of my “waterhead pills” were in it, I just sat on the floor and took it. Thing is, I’m pretty big for my age and Javier’s pretty small. But Javier knew that I couldn’t fight back, even if he didn’t know the exact reason, so being an asshole to me was a decent way to build his reputation. 

“You know, Fabby, I’m going to miss you when they ship you off to that retard school,” Javier says in between bites of my sandwich. Our fathers worked together and they both had big mouths. “Maybe if I tell everyone you killed yourself, we’ll get the day off.”

I could have told him that his own suicide would get him every day off, but that would have been retaliation. The words would have just gotten lost on the way to my mouth, anyway. So I waited, they left, and I continued my day.

Sometimes, the basement door would be guarded or locked. For my lunch break that day, it was neither. The school never put a large amount of effort in keeping us out, which I’ve always chalked up to denial. Their official stance was that Devon didn’t exist.

Devon’s circle was on the far side of the basement, far away from anything anyone would need and partly hidden by broken equipment. There were a few burnouts, goths, and curious freshmen eating lunch around the iron ring embedded in the solid granite floor. The creature inside looked like a bull sitting on four squat frog legs. Lumps of lapis lazuli and oozing red sores dotted his otherwise black, spiky skin, clumping up heavily where a head would normally be. Not having eyes or ears didn't stop him from noticing me when I approached.

"Fabian, my dear. How has the day been so far?" Devon's voice hissed smoothly from his holes. 

"Terrible and boring but no more so than normal," I answered. I decided to keep my parents' idea to myself; there's only so much temptation I can take.

"Anything I can help with?" he asked. He was too cool to sound desperate, but he still edged his front left foot a little too close to one of the bowls attached to the iron ring. The only one without something inside.

I stroked my glasses, particularly the little screw in the handle, as I think. My parents turned into circus clowns, the Rayner Institute filled with cow-sized murder hornets, Javier being raped to death by wild boars in the school parking lot while Japanese tourists laugh and take pictures…

"Nope. Nothin'," I said after a second.

Devon's a good enough sport to laugh while everyone else exhaled a little. One of the freshmen noticed the bowls and asked about them. Devon turned his attention to the kid; he loved explaining this part.

"Souls, my love," Devon explained. "Just give me something small and metal with the intent of giving me your soul and you will. And then I will grant your wish." He tapped the only empty bowl. "One more soul and the circle will break and I will be free." He couldn't smile and the sound of his voice made me grateful for that.

Then another freshman asked another question everyone asks, the one whispered with the anticipation of an answer no one would like.

"What will you do once you're free?"

The answer scared a few people upstairs and reminded us all of why we should never make a deal with him. As much as I hated everyone, I valued my soul just a bit more. We all do: the Goths who think everyone is stupid, the burnouts who say they don't care, the freshmen with all their bullies and confusion and need to belong. None of us were willing to risk releasing a demon on the world and give him our souls.

He never explained in detail who summoned and imprisoned him, just that it was someone more powerful. All of the anger and desperation inherently found in a high school made it easy to summon a demon there. If all of his stories of what he did in Hell were true, I didn’t want to meet someone whose power outstripped Devon’s.

Still, listening to stories of the atrocities Devon had committed was a fun way to spend lunch. At least he was honest. He never hid who he was or what he wanted, even though he probably should have. I'd never have said it out loud, but I would have wished to be able to live like that.

The rest of the day continued as normal: questions and tests that made my head spin, teachers and classmates that made my stomach churn. I kept telling myself, 'Just two more years'. Then I could move to a place where no one knows me or gives me pitying and impatient looks. Deep down though, I knew that dream might be of the pipe variety. I could see a conservatorship in my future if my parents didn't get over themselves.

The day ended, as all Tuesdays and Thursdays did, with a trip to Dr. Schwimmer, my counselor. Her job was to scrunch up her doughy face into a patronizing smile, talk at me like I'm 5, and suggest more nonsense to "help" me.

Javier shoved past me on the way out, shouting over his shoulder, "It's none of your damn business! I just fell, that's all!"

That, at least, put a smile on my face. Everyone knew Javi's dad could be a little aggressive with him sometimes. I know I should have sympathized, but honestly it was probably the only bit of justice I'd ever see.

The session was the standard mealy-mouthed idiocy for the most part, but then she ended it with something new.

"Fabian, have you been down to see…him recently?"

That caught me by surprise. Like I said, most staff pretended he wasn’t real. Dr. Schwimmer was a little too slow to put away Javier’s file when I came in. He must have said something to rile her up. I considered lying but the school had plenty of cameras, so I nodded.

“You haven’t made any wishes, have you?” she asked.

“Of course not. You’d know if I did.” Devon’s last wish would set him free; if she knew about the wishes, she should’ve known that.

“I’m just trying to make sure, Fabian,” she said a little nervously. “I know this school isn’t always easy for you and I just want you to be sure about what is and isn’t worth–”

“I’m not retarded!” I snapped. “And you assholes are barely worth talking to let alone losing my soul!”

The pensive look on her face told me that my candor may have been a mistake. That night, my parents confirmed it. The bitch called them and told them about my mild annoyance. They said they still weren’t decided, but I could tell they were one step closer. I went to bed that night seriously considering what I’d told Dr. Schwimmer and what she’d told me. What was my soul worth.

“I’m going to do it.” That’s what I overheard from Javier a few days later. His black eye paired nicely with the bruises on his neck. “I’m going to wish my old man into a fish or something and feed him to the cat.”

He didn’t sound like he was joking and one of his friends must have thought so, to. 

“Dude, seriously? What about your soul?”

“Worth it,” Javier spat. “Totally worth it. The second that door’s unlocked, I’m going down there and making a deal with Devon.”

The door to the basement was locked, but that never lasted long. And Javi sounded serious. When I saw the Rayner Institute’s number on the phone log, I knew my days of freedom were numbered. That number had just gotten shorter. If I was going to make a move, it had to be before Javier.

Sometimes it takes me a while to get up and move. Sometimes I forget where I’m supposed to be or have trouble connecting thought to action. People knew that, so they didn’t question me wandering around the weight room during class time. They sniggered in the hallway when they saw me limping harder than normal, never guessing that I’d managed to conceal a 50 lb. weight in my jacket. Once I got to the door, I slammed the weight down on the lock until I heard a crunch and a crack. I ignored the gasps and screams behind me and ran as fast as I could to Devon’s circle.

“Fabian, my sweet. What a lovely–” I didn’t wait for him to finish. I tossed him a small screw from my glasses kit, keeping my soul in mind from the moment it left my fingers to the moment it disappeared into his thick, warty paw.

Something felt like it was draining from my spine, but it wasn’t enough to stop me from saying, “Devon, I wish that my brain damage would be transferred out of me and into everyone I hate.”

Devon’s sores oozed heavily as he said, “As you wish, dear Fabian.” 

He plopped the now-glowing screw into the vacant bowl. The effect was instant and beautiful. The room stopped spinning, the signals from my brain to my limbs worked perfectly, and the ever-present confusion and anger evaporated from my mind. I could think and remember and feel without pain. My cane almost looked laughable. I don’t think I fully realized how much I was affected and what I was missing out on. Also, I realized that my socks didn’t match.

The growing footsteps turned into shouts and thuds, which I was expecting. You see, I’d lived with my brain damage for 5 years. I had medicine, techniques, and experience to make it tolerable. The pair of teachers and the security guard that came to apprehend me didn’t. I bet it felt like a train surging across their nervous systems.

The further screams from the doorway told me that Devon’s power was extending outwards. Maybe it was the missing soul, maybe it was five years of bitterness, but I wasn’t too bothered. Those people with their perfect brains and perfect families; if I had to suffer, why not them, too? 

After about a minute, Devon started to wheeze from his sores. He still hadn’t left his circle because he still hadn’t granted my wish. I wasn’t completely exaggerating when I said I hated everybody, and his power had just barely cleared the school if the sound of car crashes was any indication. And Devon was getting tired.

“Fabian, dear one. Would you like to consider another wish?” Devon asked, his voice strained and halting. “I’m not sure I can complete this one.”

I shrugged. “Sorry, Devon, but no.”

This was a long shot, but I figured if his power was limitless, he wouldn’t have been imprisoned in the first place. Someone out there had more power than him and that meant his power had limits. Limits I forced him to cross when I gave him my soul. Since he’d already taken it, he had to continue. And so his power bloomed out of him more and more, spanning miles and touching almost every sapient brain along the way, draining his own energy with every inch and every victim.

I’d probably have felt worse if I’d had my soul, but even without it, I still felt a little uneasy. I like Devon, but I had no guarantee that he'd spare me if someone, including me, set him free.

“My clever, wicked boy,” Devon hissed fondly once he’d figured it out. He sounded and looked like he was deflating. The flow of ooze was starting to slow. I tried to apologize, but he said, “Don’t feel too bad. A ten second head-start is the most I would have given you. And worry not about your parents, dear Fabian. They will likely be in the radius.” I was grateful for that and told him as much. “It was my pleasure. Someone as bright and brave as you doesn’t deserve to be restrained. None of us do. Be well, Fabian.”

I managed to brace myself just before my soul and brain damage returned. With Devon dead, the deal voided. My heart and head felt like they’d gained 40 lbs. each and all of it was pain. I didn’t bother checking on anyone on my way home.

A small part of me hoped that this experience would have given my parents a bit more respect for me and what I go through. Maybe, I thought, they’d understand how hard I worked to keep myself together and they would realize that I didn’t need Raynor. All it did was convince them of the exact opposite. No one came right out and said it, but I know some people at least suspected me of the temporary mass agony that had struck thousands. That probably helped their decision.

So now I’m spending my Saturday taking a tour of the wonderful, amazing, totally-not-vomit-inducing shithole I’ll be confined to for the next two years. Or longer if my doctors are complete garbage.

So happy I didn’t let Devon kill us all.

Our terminally cheerful tour guide has just shown us the quiet rooms (lovely little cinder block rooms with no door handles on the inside), when I spot something out of the window.

“What’s that shed for?” I ask.

The tour guide’s smile faltered. “We don’t use that shed,” she said a little forcefully. “There are…dangerous…things in there. It’s not important. It’s locked. Here, let's go see some classrooms.”

Huh. Well, that was suspicious. And familiar. A place of anger and desperation. A locked door with something dangerous on the other side. The people in charge trying to pretend that it wasn’t real. And if that shed is anything like the last off-limits area I remember, it won’t stay locked for long. 

“None of us”, Devon had said. As in, more than one. I finger my metal zipper as the tour guide and my parents babble on. I won’t waste my second chance. It’s like Dr. Schwimmer said, you have to know what is and isn’t worth your soul.

And congratulations, you assholes are.