#I'm fine with doing those even if you don't follow me

[webslingingslasher]

j! its been so long but omg hi

i was super obsessed with ur frat!peter hows he doing?

i just saw a tiktok that was about a frat boy yelling at a party “if youre not a brother or fucking a brother, then get the fuck out!” has this been brought up in the frat!peter circle?

i have so many scenarios in my mind like at the different stages! when they first started and trouble isnt super stable in the relationship and she goes to head out but peter (or ethan omg) grabs her arm and hes like ur part of that demographic trouble. im melting 🫠

or when theyre like broken up/taking a break and she goes to leave and peter goes all sad puppy dog eyes :((

omg yes queen::

*a little something ya'll can wake up to. <3

---

'if you're not a brother or fucking a brother, then get the fuck out!'

you hold in a sigh, the party's over. ally won't make it home with you tonight, she ditched you thirty minutes ago to 'go with matty,' aka, you won't see her again until tomorrow.

you glance down at your drink and debate chugging it, if you do you know you'll leave with a woozy stomach. you take two sips and dump the cup in the kitchen trash, it sends two empty beer cans falling, you shrug at the mess and keep walking.

a girl stumbles into your shoulder and profusely apologizes with tears in her eyes, you keep telling her it's okay but she doesn't let it go until her boyfriend nudges her out of the house.

the house music cuts, any stragglers were just seriously kicked out. you follow the crowd and prepare for the cold walk home, a hand loops around your upper arm before you can get through the threshold.

'where do you think you're going?' you turn around and grin at your friend. 'home? where are you going?'

'also home. i'm just waiting for everyone to clear out first.' ethan pulls you away from the dwindling party. 'you know, brother duties.' he sends a wink your way, you nod along like you understand.

'yeah, but i'm not a brother so i don't think i should help with that.'

ethan stops you again. 'parker is a brother, yes?' he is. he's also not there tonight. something about going to queens being more important than the typical friday night party. 'he is.'

'and you're fucking him, right?' you love when ethan has a little liquor in him. 'i am.'

'okay, so then you fit the requirements. hang back with me and we can go to my place together.' it's not a hard sell but you'll act like it is. 'are you sure? peter's not even here, do those rules still apply?'

'i'm a god damn chapter officer, i get to make the rules and it's everyone else's job to follow them. how about that?' you pat ethan's shoulder, you're not arguing one bit.

'can't fight you on that, can i? you twisted my arm good enough, lorax. i'm yours until peter gets home.' ethan holds out his hand, you shake it like it's a business deal.

'good. he told me to make sure you stayed.' he says it with a wink, a gentle suggestion he wasn't supposed to tell you that but you're glad he did. it makes you warm thinking peter didn't want you to feel excluded, especially because he was missing in action tonight.

'well... i am fucking a brother, right?'

'you are. and you know what that means? you have to stay here after every party.' he says it like it's a bad thing but you can get used to being on an exclusive guest list.

it feels nice. so, ‘hell yeah.’

-- vs. after the breakup--

'if you're not a brother or fucking a brother, then get the fuck out!'

hearing it makes you sad. no one's going to make you stay or tell you that those exceptions still apply to you. ally gets to stay here and you have to tuck your tail between your legs and scoot out the door.

'i can leave with you.' your best friend is kind for offering, you're an even better friend for saying no. 'that's okay, stay with matt.'

'are you sure? you shouldn't have to walk out of here alone, that kinda blows.' it does and you don't like the reminder. you'd prefer if ally stays, actually. you don't want her pity.

'it's fine. beats the alternative, right?' she looks at you to say what the alternative is, you do it with a sigh. 'fucking peter. that's my other option.'

'who said it had to be peter? there's like forty guys in the frat and you're buddies with at least five, take your pick.' you've thought about it but frat boys, especially the ones from sig nu, make you queasy.

'it's fine, ally-cat. i'll walk back with one of the other girls in our dorm.' the same faces you see in the hallway at your dorm are gathering their stuff to leave, they'll have no issue with you tagging along. 'boo. i miss when we would have frat house sleepovers.'

'good. blame peter.'

'and i do. he hates to see me coming his way, he really does.'

another brother screams out the same line, you frown and decide to leave while you still have friends in eye-distance. when you reach the door you look behind one last time to send a wave to your best friend. ally sends one back and blows a kiss with it. you catch it and slam it to your cheek, she giggles, you grin. your eyes flit up to the stairs, someone's already watching you.

peter sends you a sorry smile, he hates that you don't get to stick around anymore either. you match his melancholy and give him a shrug, more like a 'whatcha gonna do?' vibe. rules are rules and you're no longer a fitting member for the requirements they need.

'you can stay.' peter mouths it, you pretend not to know what he just said. 'wait.' you're still pretending, you turn around and walk a little faster down the steps- peter catches you on the bottom step.

'i said you can stay.' you have no reason to stay behind. you're not a brother and you're no longer involved with one. you point to an imaginary watch on your wrist, 'i'm about to turn into a pumpkin.'

'yeah, you almost left a shoe running out of here so fast, cinderella.'

you grin, 'i'm just following the rules.'

peter wavers his stance, he doesn't care who said what- he wants you to hang around a little bit more. he likes seeing you around. 'you're still included. i mean, we're involved, aren't we?'

you look at him like he's crazy, you swear you see him blush before he starts fumbling over his words. 'i just meant that i'm not moving on and you're not moving on and i'm trying to get things back to how they were- no, wait, i'm trying to get things better than they were before. not that they were bad! well, i mean they were bad but not... trouble, help me out here, you know what i mean.'

you do. you just like ignoring it. 'you're cute when you grovel for me.'

'i'll get on my knees right fucking now.' he's not even drunk and he's willing to beg for you in front of his party goers. you have to hold in a smirk of pride. 'to ask me to stay or to convince me with your mouth?'

peter's eyebrows raise, 'if you're asking me to go down on you the answer is yes. it's very much a yes, my place or yours? fuck it, let's go to the bathroom.' you're halfway back inside before you realize what you started.

you rip your hand away from peter, you refuse to go back to what it was. you need more than a few apologies to make you crawl back into his bed, you need a real confession. 'nuh uh, not happening. not in a damn bathroom.'

'okay, that's fine, my place is closer.'

you have to stop yourself from following him a second time. 'no, wait! i meant no, it's not happening. period.'

'i don't care if you're on your period, i'll still do it. that's how committed i am to you.' you manage to keep from gagging at the visual, instead you shove peter's shoulder. 'ew! you're so gross! i'm not on my period, you dolt. i'm just not having sex with you.'

'cool, don't have sex with me, let me just show you i can still make you come in under five minutes.' he has no idea how tempting it is. you're being braver saying no than he is for asking, post-breakup included.

'go find another girl, i'm sure there's a whole line-up waiting to get picked on.' peter's nose wrinkles, he doesn't even think of it as a cheap shot. 'gross, other girls are icky.'

you shut it down. 'peter, i'm not a brother and i haven't touched you in two months. there's no reason for me to still be here, goodnight.' you try to leave, a whine follows behind you.

'but you're still-'

but you're not, no matter how much he says it.

'if you changed the rule to 'if you're not a brother, fucking a brother, or used to fuck a brother, then get the fuck out!' how many girls would stand around and wait on you?' peter looks at you, he doesn't say anything and silence always screams that you're right.

'mhm. rules are rules, goodnight.'

there's a sense of succeeding when all you get is a wistful goodbye behind you. it lasts until the next week when the routine friday night party comes to an end with the normal call.

'if you're not a brother, fucking a brother, or go by trouble, then get the fuck out!'

ally squeals and tells you 'that's you!' but you're too busy glaring at peter's smug face to celebrate. it's his turn to shrug, his mouth forms four words that fuck you over.

'rules are rules, trouble.' 

[traumadumpwriter]

JJ Maybank X Reader ~ Relapse and a Half

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into drugs, but they're unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, sexual assault, violence

Part One

Part Two

Part Three:

After the confrontation at your house a night prior, JJ had only been able to see red, quickly pacing past your mum before making his way to the Chateau, kicking over some bins and verbally abusing some kids on his way.

He couldn't believe that you liked him. That you wanted to be with him. The thought stressed him out and made him regret doing whatever he'd done to get you to fall for him.

It wasn't that he didn't like you back. In fact it was quite the opposite - he'd been entirely obsessed with you ever since you'd arrived in the Outer Banks. His issue was that he'd seen up close just how damaged you were, just how sweet and kind you could be, just how much you deserved the world and everything in it - but not him. He wasn't good enough; not cool enough, not smart enough, not clean enough.

"Why him?" He thought. "Of everyone on this island, why him?"

You could've gone for Pope or John B or even one of the Kooks, at least they would treat you right. It might've killed him inside to see, but it would've been better than the pain he was feeling now, knowing that he'd been unintentionally hurting you this whole time, knowing that he was the one who bore the responsibility of your heart.

He stormed into John B's without stopping, going straight for the blunt in the ashtray and then storming back outside. From his behaviour, the Pogues feared for the worst and Kie's eyes were quickly tearing up, panic settling into her chest.

"She's okay, isn't she?" She followed JJ outside in a pleading tone, shortly followed by Pope and John B. "Please say she's okay."

JJ didn't answer, angrily sucking on the blunt and staring out at the sea, his mind racing.

"Answer me JJ! What's happened?" Kie demanded.

"Is she alright? Was she at home?" Pope questioned.

"JJ- fucking answer us man! Is she at the hospital? Is she- is she okay?" John B shouted.

JJ took another sharp drag on the blunt before solemnly answering.

"She's fine. I mean, she's not, but she's alive."

Kie shoved him with some frustration, her tears quickly drying up but her teeth gritting.

"Why the hell would you scare us like that? What happened?"

"We had an argument... I- You were right Kie. It is my fault."

She blinked incredulously, double taking as she tried to suss out what was wrong with the boy.

"What are you talking about?" She questioned angrily.

He took another sharp drag, even sharper this time, ran his hand through his hair and then turned to the Pogues with exasperation.

"Y/N likes me! And I've been a fucking idiot to not see it. I shouldn't have rubbed all those girls in her face. I didn't think she cared, but.. I guess she did."

"So you're saying that like it's a bad thing. I thought you liked her too." John B proclaimed in a confused tone, shooting a look to Pope who had also been aware of JJ's crush.

Kie was kicking herself for not picking up on that, wishing she’d known and she could’ve told you weeks ago - before you even had the chance to get depressed and pick up a pill again. But she didn’t focus on that thought for too long, more focused on your current wellbeing.

"I do, I just- We all know I'm a piece of shit, okay? I don't deserve someone like her. Hopefully she sees that now." JJ tutted, his eyes darting between each of the Pogues.

The uncertainty of his statement made them all nervous. 'Hopefully she sees that now' - what the hell did that mean?

"What do you mean? What did you do?" Kie hissed, her heart in her throat.

"Nothing! I was just rude. I guess I rejected her. Called her a junkie-"

Kie hit him again, seething with the boy at that point.

"What is wrong with you? Why the fuck would you do that?" She snapped, grabbing the blunt from his hand and throwing it onto the floor. "Go back there now and tell her you love her! She's probably crying her heart out right now."

JJ shook his head, thinking about picking up the blunt from the ground but not bothering. Weed wasn't strong enough to make him feel better anyway. He wanted to follow Kie's instruction, he wanted to hold you and tell you his truth, but he could think of too many reasons why not to - too many reasons why you were better off without him. The rejection may hurt now but you would get over it. You had plenty of other options. You would get sober again and you would be fine. His issue was that whether he was sober or not, he was never fine.

"Being with me would only fuck up her life more and you all know that! You should just convince her to like someone else, someone whose good for her. I can't do this." JJ protested.

"You're not a bad guy, man. Come on." John B said but JJ just shook his head again, walking towards his motorbike.

"So you're just gonna leave?" Pope scoffed as JJ got onto the bike.

"I told her to turn on her phone. Try calling her again." He said numbly before kick starting the bike and speeding off.

Kie groaned, unsurprised that when she called your phone moments later it didn't go through. She sat melancholically next to Pope, leaning on his shoulder whilst John B stressfully kicked a stick around.

"Well that's not what I was expecting." Pope sighed and then turned to Kie. "How long has Y/N been crushing on JJ exactly?"

She shrugged and shook her head.

"I don't know. Forever. But that doesn't matter anyway. I'm worried. It must've taken a lot for her to admit that she likes him, so she's either really manic or.."

"Really high." John B finished her sentence, not looking up from the ground.

"How much do you want to bet it's the second one?" Pope groaned.

"I just don't get why she didn't talk to me if JJ was upsetting her this much. She promised us she'd never use again. She's never broken a promise before." Kie sighed and then stood up. "I'm gonna go to hers. I'm annoyed but.. I'm more worried than anything. I wonder if her mum has clocked on yet… I’ll see you guys tomorrow."

"Love that woman but she's clueless so I doubt it." John B scoffed dryly. "See you tomorrow Kie."

Kie picked up her bike and rode it to your house, her mind racing with all the possibilities of what you could be doing.

"Most likely passed out or crying." She thought, her chest aching as she thought of your pain. You'd been through a lot together, and though she was beyond frustrated with your relapse, she wouldn't stop being your friend because of it.

When Kie eventually knocked on your door, your mum was surprised to open it to her.

"Isn't Y/N at yours? That's where she said she was going. JJ upset her quite a bit earlier." Your mum questioned and Kie was quick to catch on to the lie.

"Oh yeah- yeah she is. She's just so upset right now. She forgot some stuff and I said I would come and get it for her."

"You're so lovely Kie. What would she do without you?" Your mum smiled, letting her in.

When Kie went up to your bedroom and picked up a bag to strengthen her lie, she was concerned to see that your phone was still on your bed. Wherever you'd gone, you hadn't brought it. She turned on the phone in hope that it would give some clue as to where you could be, but all that came through were the missed calls and messages from the Pogues.

Kie couldn't let herself panic though. You were grown enough to look after yourself.

"Maybe she just went on a walk. Or a bike ride even. That's most likely. She probably just went to clear her head. I'll try again tomorrow." Kie thought to herself, but she took the phone anyway, hoping that when you came back you would have to come get it off her. She scrawled a note onto your mirror with an eyeliner from the side; "Got ur phone. P4L. - K"

The next day, Kie waited until the afternoon to leave her house, waiting for your knock on the door that never came. She decided that she would go back to your house and confront you there, but when she arrived there was no one inside. Your mum would be at work - that made sense - but after pounding on your door loud enough to wake you up from whatever slumber you might be in and getting no answer, she started to panic.

All of the worst possibilities sprung into her head - a horrific vision of you overdosed and alone, bent over the toilet and throwing up uncontrollably or even passed out and foaming at the mouth - so she quickly rushed to find the spare key under one of the many plant pots and slammed it into the door. She ran up the stairs, loudly repeating your name as she did, and paced into your room.

"Y/N, please be okay." She said before opening the door, her heart dropping when you weren't in the bed.

Nothing in the room had moved, not the crumpled up bedding, the pile of clothes in the corner nor the note on the mirror. You hadn't come back.

"Shit. Where the fuck is she?" She muttered to herself before pacing around the house, desperately searching for you but finding nothing. "Need to find her."

Now her mind raced to even darker corners. Perhaps you'd fallen into one of the many bodies of water on the island, high and uncoordinated, and drowned. Or maybe you'd crashed your bike into an oncoming vehicle. Maybe you'd passed out somewhere and someone had called an ambulance, or maybe you’d put yourself in danger without even realising it. She had no idea how spot on she was with the last prediction.

Kie had told Pope of her plan to force you to come to hers by keeping your phone, and all of the boys had assumed that the confrontation had been over and done with by that point, so they were confused when she turned up at the Chateau without you.

"Did you speak to YN?" JJ asked, springing up from his seat as soon as he spotted Kie.

He'd hardly slept, tossing around in his bed all night as he thought of all the things he wanted to say to you but couldn't. "It was better this way." He tried to convince himself "She's better off thinking I don't want her. Maybe she didn't even mean what she said. Maybe she was just high." He couldn't push the image of him holding you and loving you from his head though.

"No. She never came to mine." Kie huffed, wheeling her bike over with furrowed brows. "And before you ask - yes I went to hers, she's not there. Doesn't look like she's been home at all since I went there last night."

"So where is she?" John B questioned, his posture tightening.

"Do I look like I know?" Kie snapped. "I'm seriously worried."

"Shit." JJ hissed, instantly jumping into a panic. He was quick and erratic. "Okay. We should all split up and look for her. I'll check the marsh and the forest, Kie you should check figure eight, Pope you check town, and John B you take the boat and check the waters. Report back here in two hours."

He rushed towards his motorbike before anyone could even answer, but stopped in his tracks when Pope suggested a disheartening idea. It was an idea that had occurred to both John B and Kie as soon as JJ had announced his plan, though it didn’t surprise them that he didn’t think of it. He was someone who always lived in a somewhat state of denial.

"Don't you think one of us should check the hospital too? You know, just in case."

JJ swallowed, catching the lump in his throat before it could properly form, and nodded.

"Y-Yeah. You do that." He said without turning around. He wanted to argue - to say that the idea was ridiculous and a waste of time - but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. Pope might be right, and if he was... JJ had to cut his thoughts off before they got too hard to bare. He jumped onto his bike and sped off, heading straight to the marshes.

His search was obviously fruitless. He waded through knee high mud and lifted up heavy logs. He dug through thick bushes and climbed up trees. He shouted your name at the top of his lungs and prayed to God that you would appear.

But none of it worked.

By time the two hour mark had hit, he'd searched miles of forestry and worked up quite a sweat. Still, he wouldn't stop until he knew you were safe.

"Maybe one of the others have found her." He thought desperately to himself, jumping on his bike and heading back to the Chateau. They'd all tried to convince themselves with the same hopeful thought and been sorely disappointed when they eventually returned to their friends. JJ was the last to arrive.

"Any luck?" He shouted from his bike before he'd even got off it, springing across the lawn.

The rest of the Pogues were stood in a circle, also damp with sweat and breathing heavily. They looked upset which was understandable given the situation, but JJ felt his heart jump into his throat as he worried that the unimaginable had happened.

"Pope! She wasn't in the hospital, was she?" He asked with urgency, pacing over to the boy.

Pope was breathing heavily, still catching his breath from the run back to the Chateau.

"Pope!" JJ repeated in an almost shout, shaking his friends shoulders.

"No- No." Pope panted out.

"Chill, JJ. None of us had any luck." John B patted him on the back with a sympathetic look.

It didn't calm him down though. Instead he started to anxiously pace, running his hands through his hair and repeating to himself "Think, JJ. Think!"

"She might just be at someone's house. Who knows, she could be having a great time right now while we're thinking the worst." John B suggested which Kie rolled her eyes at.

"The only people she’d ever hang out with other than us are druggie degenerates, so it's not exactly great if she's with them either. Those people wouldn't care if she was on the floor foaming at the mouth."

"Well I don't know what you want me to suggest, Kie! We've looked everywhere else. Should we start banging on the doors of every junkie we know? Because that could take a while!"

As John B and Kie bickered, JJ continued his pacing, racking his mind for ideas until one shot into his head like a bullet.

"Wait-Wait. What did you just say?" He turned to his arguing friends.

"That she's probably with some drugged up degenerate?" John B answered in a sarcastic tone.

"That's it! She's probably at her dealers house. And I know only one scum bag who sells that prescription shit."

JJ ran back to his bike without saying another word, ignoring the questions from the Pogues as he kick started it and sped off - some hope finally in his mind though it was still mostly clouded by worry.

"Should we follow him?" Pope asked.

"Probably." Kie answered, heading towards the Twinkie with a sigh.

It was ten minutes later that JJ pulled up by Barry's house, carefully parking his bike around the corner so that the dealer wouldn't see him. They'd had their fair share of arguments already about JJ's dad and due to this JJ knew that he had a gun. It wouldn't do him any good to get caught on his property.

The blonde paced through the overgrown front lawn and almost jumped for joy when he saw your bike strewn lazily into one of the bushes - the signature ugly green paint instantly catching his eye. You would just be sat on the sofa smoking a joint or something. He could knock on the door, distract Barry without getting shot somehow and get you out of there in no time.

Then the sound of a large vehicle coming towards the house reached his ears, and he quickly ducked around the corner and crouched under one of the windows, anxious to not be caught by one of Barry's customers either. They typically weren't the most reasonable people after all. He was relieved with his decision when Rafe Cameron jumped out of the truck, music blaring and obnoxiously announcing himself as he knocked loudly on the front door.

JJ's ear pricked as he heard Barry's voice from inside, not having realised that the window on the wall above his head was open.

"Shit." The dealer tutted, followed by the sound of a zip. "Why now?"

Barry's breathing was heavy, like he'd been doing exercise, and it peaked JJ's curiosity. Was he working out whilst you watched from the sofa? That would be fucking weird. There was no way you would be lifting weights with him.

JJ listened carefully, waiting for the sound of the front door to open and the start of a passive aggressive conversation between the two men before he stood up and looked in the window. If either of them caught him, that would be a lot of trouble.

He wasn't at all prepared for what he saw through the glass though.

The sound of the zip suddenly made sense, and the heavy breathing. You were there, lying in an unmade bed, stripped naked and seemingly asleep. Even unconscious your face looked so sad and your body looked tired; thin, with random bruises scattered about your limbs and dirty looking hickies on your chest.

Had you let Barry do this? Surely not. Surely you had more self respect than that.

The thought of any other man touching you was enough to make JJ feel upset, let alone a scumbag dealer that he knew you would never have any real feelings for. But then it dawned onto him - that if you hadn't wanted Barry to have sex with you, that didn't make it any better. In fact, it made it a whole lot worse.

It meant that... you'd been tricked or forced or coerced in some way. It meant that you'd been raped. And maybe you didn't even know it. Maybe you were so knocked out that you would have no idea what Barry had done. Maybe he had drugged you on purpose so that he could do it.

JJ's blood boiled, so much so that he felt himself getting physically hotter, his teeth grinding and his fists clenching. He tapped on the window, hoping to get a response from you, but you stayed stiff and still, your eyes closed and your breathing shallow.

How much had you taken? Had he given you something too strong? Did the dealer even know if you were on the boundary of never waking up? Did he care? Either way, there was no way you could've rightfully consented to doing anything sexual with anyone. Not when you were clearly out cold.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." JJ hissed to himself, trying to quickly brainstorm a way to get you out of there without getting killed by Rafe or Barry.

He pulled out his phone and went to text John B before remembering that he'd ran out of data, cursing himself for not paying his bill once again. Then he decided to creep around the back and listen in through another window, hoping that he'd overhear something to help with his plan. All that he heard didn't serve to help though, in fact it made his rage all the more fiery and his brain even less able to come up with a good idea. The desperation was becoming torturous.

"Where's Y/L/N then? I can see her ugly ass bike out the front." Rafe asked in a mocking tone.

"She's in bed, sleeping. What's it to you country club?" Barry answered.

Rafe scoffed. "I caught you mid fuck didn't I? Sorry for being a cock block bro. Can't say I'm not jealous. Bet she's a total freak in the sheets."

JJ could practically hear the smug smirk on Barry's face.

"Yeah, tits like you've never seen. And pussy like a vice grip. You wanna come take a look? She's out cold."

"You already know my answer to that, bro." Rafe chuckled.

JJ's eyes widened, a deep panic settling into his chest. You would be mortified to know that Rafe Cameron had been ogling your exposed form, let alone the potential that Barry might actually let him sleep with you. He ran back around to the other window and banged on it one more time in hopes of waking you up before quickly ducking down again just as the two men entered the room. He couldn't stay down and listen to their crass remarks this time, he couldn't bare it. He had to cause a distraction.

With a rush of inspiration, he picked up a rock and lobbed it at Rafe's truck, creating a loud thud as it dented the exterior. The two degenerates stormed outside at that and JJ heard the sound of a gun clicking.

"What the fuck was that?" Barry muttered whilst Rafe angrily proclaimed "Something dented my ride!"

"If there's anybody out there, you better come out now!" He shouted, his voice echoing around the vacant lot of overgrown swampland.

Then right on cue, the Twinkie pulled around the corner, a very confused looking John B in the drivers seat with Kie and Pope sat behind him. Rafe scoffed something bigoted about the Pogues before stamping over to the van, knocking so hard on the window that he was almost punching it. JJ would've been glad for his friends arrival if not for the pistol in Barry's hand.

"You dented my fucking car. Get the fuck out here!" Rafe demanded as Kie slid open the door, pacing at him with a scowl.

"We didn't do shit to your car. Now where the fuck is Y/N?"

"Didn't do shit? Look at the dent! You're paying for this Kie - since I know you're the only one with any money."

"I'm not paying for something I didn't do. Now tell me where my friend is. I can see her bike there and I swear to god if either of you have hurt her-"

"What are you gonna do? Huh?" Rafe cut her off with an intimidating smirk, stepping so that he was inches from her face. "You can't do shit."

Pope jumped out of the van and quickly got in between them, his nostrils flaring as he eyed the sociopath. John B quickly jumped out too, though before he could open his mouth to say anything Barry had cocked the gun and pointed it at the trio.

"Y/N ain't here. She bought her pills and wondered off into the marsh. Left her bike behind. Now if you want to find her before the gators do, you lot best be on your way."

No one moved an inch, horrified by the revelation of Barry's statement.

"And you just let her go? What is wrong with you? She could be dead!" Pope hissed, an unexpected volume to his voice.

JJ could no longer sit and silently listen knowing that his friends were about to embark on another wild goose chase. You were there, mere feet away. This was their best opportunity to do something before anything else could happen to you.

Feeling that the dealer was sufficiently distracted, JJ decided to fully open the window and climb inside, struggling slightly with the old frame as he pushed it up. Once he was in, he instantly rushed to your side, gently shaking your shoulder in an attempt to wake you up again.

"Y/N it's me. We've got to go." He whispered, only getting a groan back from you.

Your hair was splayed messily around your face like the petals of a flower, making him think to the mornings he'd spent with you in the past. How he'd woken up beside you after a night of drinking and wanted to kiss you, but held himself back in fear that you would find it weird. That you would remind him that you were only friends with the occasional benefit. That you'd laugh in his face. If only he'd known how wrong he was.

Perhaps he didn't deserve you, but if being by yourself meant that you were going to do this to yourself... he would have to fight until the end of the earth to be with you.

In that moment, he regretted so many of his past actions. From the random girls he'd kissed in front of you to his recent rejection of you, he knew that once you were safe and awake he would do anything and everything to take it all back.

You would be his. No one else's... This could never happen again. No one other than him would touch you. He wouldn't allow it.

He looked around the room in a panic, picking up your shirt from the floor and lifting your head so that he could pull it over your body. Your body weight was resisting his actions, dead and heavy, but when he found your underwear and started to pull them up your legs, you finally flinched awake - even if it was only slightly.

"No Barry. Not again." You mumbled, lifting your leg to kick him away.

"It's me - JJ. We're gonna get you out of here." He said quietly, pulling your panties up so that you were covered and then slipping his arms underneath you to hoist you up bridal style.

Your eyes shot open at the sound of his voice, your heart jumping into your throat.

"JJ?" You whimpered, struggling to keep your eyes open.

"It's me baby. It's me." He repeated in a hushed tone. "You're safe now."

Then he heard the sound of the van starting outside and knew that he had to be faster. He looked around the room for a weapon and was pleased when he spotted a shotgun leant against the wardrobe, an idea springing into his head. He quickly put you back down on the bed.

"No. No. Don't leave me." You choked out, your breathing becoming rapid with panic. It broke JJ's heart to hear.

"I'll be two seconds. I promise you'll be okay." He mustered the softest tone that he could, stroking your face and placing a delicate kiss on your forehead before picking up the gun and charging out of the room.

As soon as you were out of his sight, his bubbling anger returned. No longer would he be able to put on a calm front, that time had ran out. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his skin went hot again, thinking of the vile words he'd overheard.

He pumped the gun one time, making sure it was loaded, and then slammed open the front door, quickly drawing the attention of the bickering degenerates outside. John B also quickly noticed his friend too, instantly stopping the Twinkie from reversing and jumping out again as he watched JJ in disbelief. The scene moved so quickly that none of the Pogue's were able to immediately process it.

With a cry of anger, JJ lifted the gun above his shoulder and then slammed the butt of it as hard as he could into Barry's head, knocking him out instantly. The dealer fell to the ground and dropped his own gun, and before Rafe could reach for it, JJ pressed the barrel to his chest. Rafe held his hands up in nervous surrender, though it didn't mean much.

"I should fucking kill you both!" JJ shouted. "You fucking piece of shit. You like girls when they're passed out? Huh? You like girls that can't say no?"

"Woah man. Chill. I didn't touch her." Rafe tried to calm him down, his eyes wide with fright. "It was all Barry. I just got here!"

At the realisation of what JJ had alluded to, the three other Pogues ran to join in the confrontation again. They felt sick at the idea that you might've been hurt - especially by two such unsavoury characters.

"Where is she?" Kie shouted, throwing punches into Rafe's side whilst Pope picked up Barry's pistol from the floor and kicked his body a few times.

"Inside." JJ answered through gritted teeth, staring Rafe down and struggling to not pull the trigger. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you."

Rafe stumbled for a moment, swallowing before he collected himself and answered confidently "I didn't even touch her. Kill me and you’re going away for life! There’s not gonna be any of my DNA on Y/N, I can promise that! I’m not into passed out chicks. That’s all Barry.”

JJ didn’t move for a second, thinking on the boys words before lowering the gun slightly. He would make him suffer another time. In that moment, Barry deserved his attention much more.

"Get the fuck out of here." JJ eventually hissed.

Rafe did exactly that, backing away quickly to his truck and speeding off. The blonde turned his attention to Barry now, who was groaning as he slowly arose from the ground. Without hesitation, JJ bent down to his level and started to throw punches, blinded by fury and bloodlust. His nose cracked first, then his cheekbone, then his eye socket. JJ didn't know how long he'd been attacking him for when he felt John B's touch on his shoulder and heard his voice in his ear. The brunette had found you in the house and lifted you into the Twinkie during JJ’s raging, stood and watched for a moment and then decided to stop his friend, worried for your welfare despite enjoying the show very much.

"Come on JJ, that's enough."

Barry's face was an unrecognisable bloody mess, but he couldn't stop.

"J, you're gonna kill him."

That didn't matter.

"We need to get Y/N out of here. Let's go!"

The sound of your name did halt him. His knuckles were bruised and his chest was panting.

"He raped her, John B. She was passed out in there and naked when I found her!" He turned to his friend with a desperate expression. "We need to kill him."

"I know, I know. But he's not worth the prison sentence, J." John B struggled to bite back his own rage but managed to do so, speaking in a soft tone as he tried to calm his friend. "We'll make him suffer, don't you worry. But right now we need to go."

The blonde boy finally nodded in agreement, feeling somewhat dizzy from the adrenaline as he stood up and made his way to the Twinkie. Once he saw you inside, your half dressed body curled up on Kie's lap as you cried, the guilt came back to him in an agonising gut punch.

"This entire thing had been practically all his fault." Was all he could think. "From the relapse to this. He'd fucked you up without even trying."

He ignored his friends shouts as he paced back to his bike and said nothing as he rode off, deciding that he would go to a bar and drink his thoughts away for the night. As John B had said; it wasn't worth getting a prison sentence for murder, but that didn't mean he couldn't find some other random people to fight.

Hiiii I hope y’all enjoyed. I might make a part 4 depending on feedback. Stay safe!!

[viagracex]

pls could you do one where r doesn’t drink- maybe because of childhood or something else, and is worried what the boys (like the Arthurs, Chris, batch) will think, but George just supports and loves her? comfort and fluff omg 💔

Beyond the Bottle

george clarkey x reader

summary: At game night, your choice not to drink sparks supportive gestures and honest conversations

warnings: brief mentions of childhood trauma, alcoholism, and abuse

note: this one was a bit harder to write for me for personal reason. so i kept everything on a lighter note. sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted.

2.1k words

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

You fidgeted nervously with the hem of your sweater as you stood in George's kitchen, watching him grab drinks for the rest of the boys. The sound of laughter and chatter drifted in from the living room where Arthur, Chris, and the others were hanging out. Your stomach twisted with anxiety.

George turned to you with a gentle smile, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners. "You alright, love?" he asked softly.

You nodded, trying to force a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

George set down the bottles he was holding and stepped closer, gently taking your hands in his. "Hey, what's really going on? You can tell me anything, you know that."

George waited patiently, giving your hands a reassuring squeeze. Taking a deep breath, you finally met his eyes.

"I don't drink," you confessed in a rush. "And I'm worried what the boys will think. I don't want to be a buzzkill or make things awkward."

Understanding dawned on George's face. He pulled you into a tender embrace, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"Oh, love," George murmured softly, his breath warm against your ear. "You don't have to drink if you don't want to. The lads won't care one bit, I promise."

You pulled back slightly, searching his eyes. "Are you sure? I don't want to be the odd one out."

George cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing your cheek. "You could never be the odd one out. Not to me, not to them. We love you just as you are. They're good guys, yeah? They'll understand."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension from your shoulders. You leaned into his touch, drawing strength from his unwavering support.

"It's just..." you started, your voice barely above a whisper. "After what happened with my dad, I can't... I can't be around alcohol without feeling sick."

George's eyes softened with understanding and a fierce protectiveness. He knew about your childhood, about the nights spent hiding from your father's drunken rages. The scars it had left, invisible but deep.

As if on cue, Arthur's booming laugh echoed from the living room, followed by Chris's playful jab "Oi, Clarkey! Where's those drinks, mate? We're dying of thirst out here!"

You tensed, but George just chuckled and called back, "Keep your pants on, lads! Be there in a moment!"

Turning back to you, he said softly, "Listen, you don't owe anyone an explanation, alright? But if you want to tell them, I'll be right there with you. And if you'd rather not, that's fine too. I'll just grab you a fizzy drink or whatever.

Your eyes welled up with a mixture of relief and gratitude, your voice thick with emotion as you responded. "Thank you, George. Really, it means so much to me, you always know how to make things easier."

"I've got you," he said, his voice full of quiet conviction. "And I've got an idea."

George turned to the fridge, rummaging around for a moment before emerging with a bright smile. In his hands were two cans of sparkling water, festively decorated with fruity designs.

"How about we make our own special mocktails?" he suggested, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "We can get all fancy with it - add some fresh fruit, maybe even those little umbrellas I've got stashed away somewhere."

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. This was the George you had fallen for - the one who could light up a room with his infectious energy, who always found a way to make you feel special and included.

"That sounds perfect," you said, feeling a wave of relief wash over you.

George set about gathering ingredients - fresh strawberries, lime wedges, and orange juice. As he worked, he regaled you with stories from his latest YouTube video shoot, his animated gestures sending drops of juice flying as he squeezed the limes.

"And then," he said, barely containing his giggles, "Arthur decided it would be a brilliant idea to try and backflip off the sofa. Ended up with his legs over his head, stuck between the cushions!"

With practiced ease, he mixed them together in a tall glass, adding a splash of grenadine syrup for color. He garnished it with a slice of orange and a cherry, presenting it to you with a flourish.

"Your very own mocktail, love," George said with a wink. "It'll look just like what the lads are drinking, but it's all safe for you."

Your heart swelled with affection for this wonderful man who always seemed to know exactly what you needed. You took a sip, the sweet and tangy flavors dancing on your tongue.

"It's perfect," you said, smiling genuinely for the first time that evening.

George beamed, clearly pleased. He gathered up the other drinks and gestured towards the living room. "Ready to join the others?"

You nodded, feeling a surge of courage. With George by your side, you could face anything.

As you entered the living room, the boys greeted you warmly. Arthur's face lit up when he saw you, his grin wide and welcoming. "There you are! We were starting to think George had kidnapped you for himself."

Chris chimed in, raising his beer bottle in a mock toast. "Cheers, love! What's your poison tonight?"

You felt a flicker of anxiety, but George's steady presence beside you gave you strength. "Actually," you started, your voice stronger than you expected, "I've got a special mocktail tonight. George made it for me."

The room fell silent for a moment, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Then, to your relief, Chris’s face broke into a wide grin.

"Well, well, well," he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "A mocktail, eh? God, did he knock you up or something?”

Your face flushed crimson, and you stammered, unable to form words. George quickly stepped in, his arm protectively wrapping around your waist.

"Oi, chill out, mate," he said, his tone light but with a hint of warning. "It's not like that."

You took a deep breath, drawing strength from George's steady presence. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your response. The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light over the gathered friends, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern.

"I... I don't drink," you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because of some things that happened when I was a kid. It's just... it's not for me."

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you braced yourself for their reaction. But to your surprise, Arthur was the first to react. His face softened, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Hey, no worries at all," he said, his voice gentle. "We're just glad you're here with us."

Chris nodded emphatically, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that comment. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

The tension in the room dissipated like morning mist, replaced by a warm, accepting atmosphere. You felt George's arm tighten around you, and when you glanced up at him, his eyes were shining with pride and love.

"See?" he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "Told you they'd understand."

As the evening progressed, you found yourself relaxing more and more. The boys didn't treat you any differently, including you in their jokes and conversations as if nothing had changed. They even started asking about your mocktail, genuinely curious about the recipe.

At one point, Arthur disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a tray of glasses filled with colorful, non-alcoholic concoctions. "Thought we'd all give it a go”

As Arthur set down the tray of mocktails, the living room erupted in a chorus of excited chatter. Chris reached for a vibrant blue drink, garnished with a pineapple wedge and a tiny paper umbrella. He took a tentative sip, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"This is actually quite good!" he mentioned, taking another hearty gulp.

The others followed suit, each selecting a colorful concoction. The room filled with the sweet, fruity aroma of tropical punch and freshly squeezed citrus. You couldn't help but smile as you watched your friends enthusiastically compare flavors and debate which mocktail reigned supreme.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere grew increasingly jovial. Bach suggested a game of charades, and soon the living room was filled with raucous laughter as everyone took turns acting out increasingly ridiculous scenarios. You found yourself doubling over with giggles as Isaac's attempted to mime "The Lion King" while balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa, his arms outstretched in a comical imitation of Simba being presented to the animal kingdom.

The warm glow of the lamps cast dancing shadows on the walls as the night deepened. The air was thick with laughter and the sweet scent of fruit from the mocktails. You found yourself swept up in the joy of the moment, your earlier anxieties melting away like ice in the summer sun.

As the charades game wound down, Chris suggested a round of board games. Soon, the coffee table was covered in a colorful array of game boxes, their contents spilling out in a cheerful mess. Monopoly money fluttered to the floor as Arthur dramatically declared bankruptcy, while Bach meticulously arranged his Scrabble tiles, a look of intense concentration on his face.

The room was alive with friendly banter and playful accusations of cheating. You couldn't help but marvel at how seamlessly you had been integrated into this tight-knit group of friends. Their acceptance warmed you from the inside out, like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter's night.

You found yourself nestled comfortably on the plush sofa, your legs tucked underneath you. George sat beside you, his arm draped casually over your shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. The warmth of his touch and the genuine camaraderie surrounding you melted away the last of your earlier anxiety.

George glanced over at you, his eyes soft and full of love. "Did you have a good time tonight?" he whispered, his voice just loud enough for only you to hear over the gentle murmur of conversations tapering off around you.

You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the room's laughter-filled atmosphere. "I really did, thanks to you," you replied, your voice tinged with heartfelt gratitude.

George's smile widened, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Anything for you," he murmured. As the others began to gather their things and say their goodbyes, George turned to face you more fully. "You know, I'm really proud of you tonight. You opened up, and that's not always easy. But you did it, and see? They all love you just as much as I do."

The room had mostly emptied, leaving just the two of you in the cozy aftermath of a night well spent. The gentle clink of dishes being gathered and the soft closing of doors punctuated the quiet.

"Thank you for being so supportive," you said, your voice soft but steady. "It means the world to me, knowing I can be myself around you and your friends."

George's hand caressed your cheek, his touch tender. "Always," he promised. "You never have to be anyone but yourself around me. That's the person I fell in love with."

The two of you sat there for a moment, wrapped up in each other's presence, the comforting silence enveloping you like a blanket. Outside, the night grew deeper, the moon casting a silvery glow through the windows, bathing the room in a soft, peaceful light.

Finally, George stood, offering you his hand with a charming grin. "Let's call it a night, yeah? I think we could both use some sleep after all this excitement."

You took his hand, squeezing it gently, and let him pull you to your feet. As you headed toward the bedroom, your heart felt light and your spirits lifted. The evening had started with anxiety, but it ended with laughter, acceptance, and the unshakeable support of the man you loved. Tonight wasn't just another social gathering; it was a reaffirmation of everything wonderful in your life.

In the quiet of the bedroom, with only the soft rustle of sheets and the distant hush of the city at night, George pulled you into his arms, holding you close. His heartbeat, steady and reassuring against your ear, was a reminder of the constant strength and comfort he provided.

"Goodnight, love," he whispered, his breath warm against your hair.

"Goodnight, babe," you replied, your voice a contented sigh. As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped up in the love and warmth of the man beside you, you knew that no matter what the future held, with George, you would always have a place to belong.

[kcwriter-blog]

I finally started playing Baldur's Gate 3. I know I'm slow. Many people told me I wouldn't like it. The reasons why were varied - turn based combat, unvoiced protagonist, characters not as in depth as they are in Dragon Age. And I listened.

What changed? Frustration with Veilguard.

And I liked BG3. A lot. Enough to hyperfixate on it? No, but it is a game I want to play again. Something I don't want to do with Veilguard. I got the ending I wanted but it was kind of a slog to get there and I don't want to do it again.

Which brings me to why I created this post. BG3 reminds me of what I loved about the previous three DA games and what I found lacking in Veilguard. To start I will just say that Veilguard was not for me and that is fine. It works for others and I am happy for them.

BG3 has characters that feel like real people. They have likes and dislikes. They get along with other party members or they don't. They don't really like or trust your character at first. You have to get to know them but they also have to get to know and trust you. They don't always agree with you. They make their own decisions based on how you have helped change them. For example. I can tell Shadowheart what she should do about the Nightsong, but ultimately it is up to her. I can try to persuade her but its a pretty high check if she doesn't really like me.

You get to decide what kind of person your Tav/Durge is. And there are consequences for the kind of person you choose to be. The world reacts to your character and not always pleasantly. So I felt a sense of accomplishment when a character became friendly or made a choice based on what my character did.

DA games used to do that to one extent or another. Even in DAI some of your characters could leave you. Others just hated you. It was realistic.

The story was cohesive. It had themes and those themes were dealt with well.

I understand that DATV was a result of its development cycle and that we got a game at all, much less one that was polished and had a mostly satisfying ending is great so I'm not overly critical. It is what it is but it isn't for me.

So this Solavellan blog will be looking a little different going forward. There will be more posts about other games. I need to step away from DA for a bit.

I suspect it will still lean heavily toward Solas and Solavellan. That is my hyperfixation after all, but I want to post pictures of my other games and don't feel like creating another blog dedicated to those other games (yes, I'm lazy).

So everyone that follows me for Solavellan content be warned.

[red-takami]

HII NORTH ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) do you know a lot about manifestation/how to practice it? if so what has ur experience been with it? i have a follow up question but i dont want to sound like im interrogating you 😭 ill probably ask it after this question/in the comments of this question

Honestly I'm not good at it all that much 😭 besides shifting and actively experiencing a change, I almost never try any other methods of it because of how weird/complicated I make it on accident while trying.

In my personal experience, manifesting is like boomerang, you throw out your intention and you receive it back physically. It's sort of unpredictable, like sometimes you experience results immediately, or not for a long time. Sometimes it's not exactly what you envisioned, or maybe it's EXACTLY what you envisioned - but it's not what you needed in that instance yk?

I don't do it a lot, because unfortunately I get demotivated extremely easily. If I don't see results immediately then the doubts make it almost impossible to keep faith in my own intentions. Which is why whenever I shift, I make sure to have whatever I desire in mind so that way I don't need to go through all of this trouble for it.

When I was a younger kid, I would listen to subliminal messaging RELIGIOUSLY. Like every single day for at least a few hours at a time. I did this for probably around 3 years, starting when I first found out about subliminals and not stopping until I experienced something that had kinda made me realize the gravity of doing so like I did.

Nothing bad, at least not this first experience anyway. I remember back then, I was obsessed with werewolves specifically from twilight. It crossed my mind every single day so of course I was willing to jump into anything that could promise my own experience in such a life as a twilight werewolf 😭. I looked and explored all over the internet for different subliminals made by different sources and different affirmations, and no results at all. Eventually though, I just found I grew extremely patient with the results I was waiting for, I found that I genuinely just enjoyed the couple 3 or 4 main subliminals I had found enough to listen to them without the anticipation in my belly making it hard to be in the moment. Of course, back then I didn't realize this, nor did I realize what happened because of this newfound relaxation until one morning I woke up and the teeth in my mouth had all changed shape entirely. I looked in the mirror getting ready for school and vividly remember just standing there with my mouth open and frozen in my spot. My teeth were absolutely a different shape before this morning. I had fallen asleep that night to a subliminal and coincidentally, one of the affirmations were fangs and sharp k9's. This took the relaxation and turned it into slight intimidation. Made me realize that whatever I was doing, was working somehow. It was intimidating.

Second experience, years later in 2020 I had picked up subliminals once again after a year or two break from it, and instead of wolf subliminals - it was shifting subliminals. I won't name the account because honestly I can't remember but they're extremely problematic. I'm not the only bad experience with this account and their subliminals. I had fallen into the same routine, falling asleep to the subliminals daily, everything was fine enough at first that I didn't realize anything was wrong. Just chalked it up to my brain being an asshole.

Over time, and continuing to listen to those affirmations religiously, I started to experience some scary shit back to back, more than normal. Nightmares that weren't lucid but felt more vivid than reality, where the contents were nothing but darkness and pure malicious invasion of my mind and dream state. It was disgusting. I stopped after I realized what the reasoning for these things was, and eventually even heard the same exact stories from other shifters who used that accounts subliminals.

I don't use subliminals at all anymore, but only because I know I don't need them. However, if I did, I now know for a fact that this shit is serious, manifestation is real and you need to take caution with what you're trying to make your reality. This was my second time being shown this, and now my main form of manifesting is just shifting, so I'm sorry if that's not helpful. Feel free to ask anything else!!!

[artsninspo]

COUNTERFEIT - one

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

🍒 author's Note: back with another story! this is a multipart story. formerly known as cherries. it's a mix of the drinks series and forgiveless. Rio's more 'gang-friend' in this one. Enjoy ♥️

🍒 pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Faith (Original Character) All my characters are black women.

🍒 word count: ~1.7K

🍒 summary: bad days lead to bars, friends, drinks and strangers.

🍒 one ~ cherry margaritas

If one more person calls me ungrateful I don't think I'll ever stop screaming. I shoot my sister a glare and her voice catches in her throat leaving her mouth open with words that will be left unsaid. Traitor. My anger is clear as day, and Char knows better than anyone that I've reached my limit. Amber, our ‘friend’ stops too looking up at me as I stand. I didn't invite Amber over for an earful, I invited her over for support. For fucks sake. The stare down comes to an end when Char closes her big mouth, swallowing.

“Faith” her tone is what it should have been all along but its too little too late. The call comes again but I'm halfway down the hall and to my bedroom. I walk into my closet angry at myself for thinking my sister would back me. I grab a coat and slip into a pair of baggy jeans. I kick my pumps from this evening's date night aside and grab a monogrammed bumbag.

“Faith” Amber says, wearing on my thinning patience.

“What?” I respond, casting a look over my shoulder.

“It’s not that we don't think you're great - I mean of course we do your the life of the party, you're so smart and funny”

“I’m glad I provide entertainment for you Amber” I respond and she places a hand on her chest. I brace for the perpetual state of victimhood that follows nice-nasty and outright mean.

“I didn't mean it like that!” Amber says. Whether it's fact or fiction makes no difference to me - my goal was to shut her up and when her nostrils flare I know I've achieved my goal.

“Don't be like that Faith, Jason is – being bored isn’t a reason to leave him. He literally worships you” Char continues. I wish her position was disappointing or surprising but it’s what I expect from Char now that she's been fully indoctrinated by our mothers social climb. Years of private school, country clubs and tennis lessons have her disillusioned.

“It’s fine, I don't expect you to understand” I snap, pushing past the both of them. 

“Where are you going, do you want me to come?” she asks, eyeing my casual attire.

“No, finish the wine and talk about how ungrateful I am” I respond slamming the front door to our condo. I rush to the elevator hoping they won't follow me and call a cab once I'm in the lobby. The wait is less than a minute. I turn off my location, blocking my sister, Amber and Jason for the night.

I’m too young to be so stressed, I've felt like I've been drowning for weeks as Jason turned the intensity up in our relationship in all the wrong ways. Trying to become bffs with my mother and Rick. Talking with the future, talking about expectations and children and houses. Why would anyone think I would sign up for a lifetime of the one I didn’t choose. The one Ma laid on her back and threw away everything she knew and held dear for. I’d never so eagerly trade my autonomy. I rate the driver five stars for the much appreciated silence and smile as my feet touch the pavement. I smell cigarettes and weed as patrons partake outside the bar. I can see it’s busy when I head in. Unlike anything in the heart of the city D’s place is truly one of one. Traditional wood counters, stools, a pool table, a jukebox, booth seating on one side, open space in the middle and a few table configurations for those who want to sit and talk. Everywhere is full tonight and it makes me happy for my friend as I head to the bar a man getting up to give me his stool. I look around for Diego smiling when I find him.

“Hey” I wave, and he comes over with top shelf tequila.  Smiling at my presence he makes a show of making my favorite drink a cherry margarita and tops it with five cherries. “Thanks” I beam saluting him before my first sip. “Perfection” I wince and he laughs.

“What’s up?” He asks and I chew on one of the cherries pushing the rest of them into the liquid in the hopes they absorb some of the liquor.

“Nothing much, I can help you bartend if you drive me home…” I suggest.

Diego dries a glass. “I don’t get off until three” 

“It’s fine” I shrug while having another swig.

“Doesn’t Jason usually get tickets to the big games? I was looking for you court side” He asks, looking up at the mounted TV in the bar.

“We broke up” I confess and he frowns, pausing his task.

“What’d he do? Do I need to fuck him up for you?” D asks, ready for war.

“Nothing, it just wasn’t going to work.” I admit taking another cherry. D gives me an unsure look before manning his bar. I watch the clock run out and drain the liquid from my glass, then I get behind the bar and get to work. Diego and I grew up together on the same block as kids. He spent a lot of time with me and my sister before the whispering started. People thought it was poor parenting to have him sleeping in a room with two girls. D would’ve never laid a finger on us. He moved away when I was ten and we reconnected after college. He became the big brother I never had. Now, he has his life together and I’m the wreck.

Time goes by when you’re having fun and D and I are an excellent team. Working, being busy, accomplishing something and being around D is grounding for me. There’s nothing we want from each other or hope to gain from our association and honestly it’s refreshing. D really has put everything into this place and it’s a pleasure to help him keep his patrons happy with good drinks and excellent customer service. It’s a sausage fest and the flirtation is harmless. Almost all of them are regulars and regular guys here to drink a few beers and watch the game. I make a show of eating the cherries from my glass gaining an audience, extra tips and looks of disapproving amusement from D. It's harmless rebellion, the kind of thing that Jason would spend hours scolding me for - not understanding I’m just joking around. Having a bit of fun. D’s bar is the kind of place that would make Jason itch. There’s no VIP seating, back room or slipping someone extra money to get better service. Honestly that behaviour may lead him to a black eye and pressing assault charges for his uppity ways. The thought makes me smile as the patrons file out,  I have so many tips there's no more space in my pockets so D gets me a jar. 

 By the time it’s three AM I’ve forgotten all about my breakup. D and the security clean off the tables and put the chairs up. I get the mop ready and clean the floors to save them from sticky floors when they come in later on today. The bell rings and the door opens to three men walking in. I wait for someone to tell them we’re closed but no one does. The tall slim one in all black sits at the bar and the other two go into the back. My heart rate slows as I look around for D, when I don't see him I keep my head down mopping until D comes from in the back. He greets the man and pours him something top shelf.I continue mopping until I see Diego motioning for me to come over. I do and he looks nervous. He hands me his keys. “Go wait in the car” he says handing me his keys.

“My coat” I remind D, and he nods, getting it from behind the bar for me.

“I don’t remember hiring you,” the guy drinking at the bar says, stopping me in my tracks. His voice is smooth and his eyes are too easy for him to be anything but trouble. The tattoo on his neck tells me he’s bad news, as well as how rigid D’s posture is behind me.

“She’s a friend, came to help me out” Diego says, being oddly submissive. I look up at him confused. He has at least a hundred pounds of muscle on this guy and he’s afraid of no one. The guy turns to face us and his hands go in his pockets as he gives me a slow once over. He’s hard to read.

“I didn’t know we needed help and I don’t remember getting a text that you’d have someone else closing with you” he adds. His speech is slow and calm which adds to the sense of danger about him.

“I was headed home, came by for a drink and it was getting crazy in here. I just wanted to help out” I explain and the man gives a half smile but it only makes me more uneasy.

“There are health codes, forms, certifications and things we need in case something comes up or a by-law officer stops by.  I need to know who’s behind my bar. Who’s serving my customers.” he doubles looking at D.

“I said she’s a friend,” Diego grits in response. The man’s jaw clenches but he turns around.

“Shit hits the fan, you’ll have to deal with it, not me” he says going back to his drink and I hurry out of the bar. I have a million questions but I don’t ask any the entire ride home. My mind goes to a hundred scenarios, landing on one every time if D needed money why didn't he ask me for some. If it was for protection didn’t he know better than to get mixed up with men like … whoever that was? The car slows to a stop in front of my condo and he puts it in park handing my tips.

“Take care, and if Jason needs a clue let me know” he says before kissing my cheek.

“Thanks” I smile and he hands me another jar. I smile when I realize they’re tequila soaked cherries. “Sorry for the trouble” I apologize.

“My cousin is OCD about people,” he shrugs.

“Ok” I nod wondering why I don't know this one of Diego’s cousins or that he was the bar owner. I don't push, instead I hug my friend and trust our bond before heading into the building, into the elevator and into the apartment I share with my sister.

authors note: well that's all for now folks. see you around for the next part. don't forget to ❣ Like, ❝ Comment, ↺ Reblog

click here to ✮ join taglist ✮ and be notified when it drops.

tags: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal @fairytale07 @rampsen

[lucy---lou]

Heyi, so update time. So I met up with Miss Duralis at her hab. Imagine my shock as I nervously walk into the hab and get tackle hugged by a floret I don't know about. They were saying something to me but I was just out of it at that moment.

After a while a manage to stutter:" H-He-Hey, I-I didn't knowyouhadafloret."

"I thought you wouldn't come if you knew I had a floret. Btw I tould her not to tackle you but she didn't listen. - Petal introduce yourself."

"Hiiiiiiiii I'm Elena Duralis first floret she/her. You can also call me Ellie. I'm really sorry that I tackled you, but not really you were so cute afterwards. "

"Sure Heyi Elena. Anyways what's for dinner", trying to steer the conversation somewhere into safety.

"We're making pasta from scratch. It will be fun trust me. If you two would follow me into the kitchen please"

"Ok", I answer noticing a certain Ellie basically bouncing alongside me.

As we arrive Ellie blurts out:" Soo we're gone take some flourandeggsandsaltandthen we slowlymicfudjabdbffh"

I just stare at her

"I'm sorry she gets really excited when she's with someone she finds hot. Anyways I don't think Lucy understood anything, Ellie could you please repeat I again but slooowly"

I continue to just stare and now also blushing HARD.

"Ellie to Lucy anybody there? Luuucy answer me did you get it?"

"Hmm? I-I'm sorry", I stammer.

"Oh don't worry. I'll just show you step by step and try not to fry your brain. Come here and slowly mix in the eggs with the flour "

I nod doing what she said.

***********

The rest of the meal prep went fine. Now it's time to eat. I turn to the really tall table and bench and:"aaheeeeeep" Well that solves the issue i think to me self, apparently blushing again.

"Sorry should've thought better than to just pick a kitten up", Duralis said with a grin.

Ellie is deposited next to me, smiling widely. "You didn't tell me I could call you kittennnn that's soso-SO cute"

"I-I ehm em do-", trying to defend my self before being interrupted.

"Well she makes those cute noises and wiggles like one, so I called her one and I think she likes it"

My cheeks are red and I stare a hole into the table. I whisper:"fo-food?"

"Aww kitten is hungry lets eat", Miss Duralis graciously saves me. Thats what I think.

I should have know, but was still surprised as she started feeding Ellie.

"If you keep staring with your mouth open like that. You're going to be feed aswell"

"NO, sorry no need I'll manage myself", answering a alot more aggressive than I wanted to.

"Alright, but you just have to ask"

I nod.

The rest of the meal went by peacefully, without them teasing me.

"Anything else you have planned this evening, would you like me to leave?", I ask as I feel my social battery is basically empty. An attempt to leave, but I know they would never want me to leave. As soon as I finished my sentence Ellie nearly shouts:

"No we haven't cuddled yet, let's watch a movie"

Aaaand this story telling has already gotten way longer than planned. See you in the next blog.

-Lucy

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Chapter One: Home

It's the desolate look on his face that finally does it. 

After five and a half hours of scouring stacks of manuscripts and religious texts for even the tiniest hint of information that might help them better understand what's coming for them, Abbie has had enough. She's slumped in the worn, leather cushion of an old armchair in their newly converted headquarters, eyelashes fluttering against her cheekbones as she battles exhaustion. Those energy drinks simply aren't cutting it tonight…and Crane has barely touched his. He's not letting on, but she can tell that it's hitting him, too. She has a sneaking suspicion that he does it on purpose, that he knows she won't head home until they've both given up for the night, that he doesn't want her to leave…because then he'll be left all alone. 

Over the past couple of days, it had become evident that Crane had essentially begun living out of the old archives. She'd caught him sleeping in his armchair in the morning more than once, his tattered and dirt-embellished boots propped up on the table, exactly as she'd left him the night before. She'd supposed it made sense…here, he could work in private, think in silence, and he wouldn't be bothered with the long walk back to the hotel or its distressing customs (which was probably all for the best, both for Crane and the hotel staff.) Still, it must get lonely in there, come nighttime…all that silence…all those scattered, indistinct memories fighting their way back up to the surface. Two hundred and fifty years is a long time.

Pity and guilt manifest into a suffocating ball that sits at the back of her throat. Because she knows exactly what that feels like. Because that look he's giving her, even when he thinks he's being subtle, is all too familiar. As frightened and lost and confused as she is, she can't even begin to imagine what all of this must be like for him…to have woken up in a different era, where everyone you once knew and loved has been dead for centuries, where the customs, the clothing, the food, even the air, is completely different…it must be terrifying. In that moment, she realizes that she is all he has, that she is the only person he's willing to trust, to follow blindly into a demon's dream world and risk his own life to save hers. 

It's the least she could do.

"Crane," she says, straightening up and hoisting herself from her chair into a standing position. Ichabod snaps out of his apparent reverie and fixes her with a frown.

"Lieutenant? You're leaving, I presume?" he asks, feigning indifference.

"Yeah, and you're coming home with me," she says, adjusting her gun in its holster as a means to avoid looking directly at him.

"Are you quite sure? I certainly don't want to be a burden," he says, fighting a smile.

"It's fine. You need a place to stay for a little while, and I've got a spare room."

The room was, of course, meant for Jenny, as was every spare room in every apartment Abbie had lived in over the past couple of years…but it was far too optimistic of her to assume that Jenny would be needing it any time soon. 

"I would greatly appreciate it, Lieutenant. Thank you. I do not know how to repay you for this kindness," he says, his expression a mix of relief, elation, and fatigue.

"You took a scorpion sting for me. As far as I'm concerned, we're square," she laughs.

Abbie leads him across the parking lot to her car, twirls the radio dial to a soft lull, and watches him out of the corner of her eye. He has his hands pressed to the passenger's seat window, no doubt leaving oily fingerprints as he stares out into the night with childlike wonder, the rolling fields and valleys slinking past them in a series of silhouetted waves. In that moment, she realizes just how much she appreciates his company, his very existence. 

She'll tell herself, over and over again like a mantra, that it's because she feels indebted to him, that she feels bad for him, that it'll make their casework much easier if she can keep a constant eye on him, that it's convenient. But really, it's because, in spite of everything, in spite of an impending apocalypse that only they, the unwilling witnesses, can prevent, he keeps her grounded, keeps her sane. For reasons she can't explain, she trusts him. She hasn't trusted anyone like this since Corbin…and now, Crane is all she has left. In his company, she feels secure. Protected. Cared for. They've only known each other for a short while, and yet…Crane's company feels like home. 

Besides…how bad could living with a man from the 1700's truly be?

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You Always Want What You're Running From

Sleepy Hollow » Ichabbie

Title: You Always Want What You're Running From

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Sleepy Hollow (Masterlist)

Relationship: Abbie Mills x Ichabod Crane

AO3 Rating: Mature (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: When Abbie invites Ichabod to come live with her, the last thing she expects is for him to start feeling like home.

She'll tell herself, over and over again like a mantra, that it's because she feels indebted to him, that she feels bad for him, that it'll make their casework much easier if she can keep a constant eye on him, that it's convenient.  But really, it's because, in spite of everything, in spite of an impending apocalypse that only they, the unwilling witnesses, can prevent, he keeps her grounded, keeps her sane. For reasons she can't explain, she trusts him.  She hasn't trusted anyone like this since Corbin…and now, Crane is all she has left. In his company, she feels secure. Protected. Cared for. They've only known each other for a short while, and yet…Crane's company feels like home. Besides…how bad could living with a man from the 1700's truly be?

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr: Chapter 1

[ghostoffuturespast]

Honestly, getting real tired carrying and supporting other folks around here when most of them aren't returning the favor...

[icewindandboringhorror]

examining a seemingly normal image only to slowly realize the clear signs of AI generated art.... i know what you are... you cannot hide your true nature from me... go back where you came from... out of my sight with haste, wretched and vile husk

[peoplesrazor]

Okay, haven't voiced an opinion on any of this, but now I have some questions for you @starlit-soothsayer. Your blog says "drama posting" on it. If that's what you do there, then surely you have had asks like Ant's before. It pretty much goes with the territory.

So, my first question is; why answer in a way that doesn't address what was asked. Like, one totally normal answer would be, I haven't posted any wrong info about you. If you want a more detailed response, then list some things you have said, and say, which of these things is false.

Best case scenario, this settles it and puts the whole thing to rest. I mean, if the things you are saying are true, you are putting the onus on asker to prove those things are false. At worse, the asker does come back with proof. This will lead to more posts, which both your followers will see.

More drama posting, see?

Why skirt the question? Why answer in such an evasive way? That just makes you seem like you did post wrong information. I basically see no gain for you that way. Like even if you did, why stop lying and start dodging at this point?

In case you are wondering why I didn't do this as an ask myself; Because I don't see you bothering to answer it. Why should you? I'm not on your little hitlist. You have no idea who I am. I'm not one of your targets. At worse, I've seen some of the shrapnel from your attacks near me, because I have a small Lily Critical blog. Possibly, I reblogged something from someone else about you, likely because they were saying something I agree with.

Otherwise you're just a name I see attacking folks and doxxing folks on Sai's discord. I'm not on Sai's discord, so, I'm not likely to have been on your radar. I'm nobody, why bother.

I am, however, as anyone who has interacted with me or my blog posts can attest, a goddamn pedant. Proud of it, too. The unnecessary evasion in your response just flipped that switch in me. Like the frigging bat signal of true nerdom, that was.

Maybe you won't respond to this. That's fine. I mostly wanted to point out that you didn't address any of Ant's concerns. Maybe you will come for me now. Also fine. Give me something to read when I get home from my treatment this afternoon.

Now you are just spreading wrong info about me without any critical response.

People spreading wrong information about you? I can't possibly imagine how that feels.

I'm hardly spreading anything when I have a dozen followers and most of my posts have 0 notes. The only people spreading things around are the people insisting they don't care about me and I have nothing important to say while showcasing the opposite.

[imagine-nerd]

The fucking disconnect is so real.

[confetti-critter]

The night is young and I am free to do whatever my heart desires but unfortunately I have once again found myself trapped in the Time Prison and so I

[childofaura]

Ok I thought I was gonna be making one nitpicky rant about TLoU show deaths but

I guess I’m actually making two. Because I saw another death and while I find there was nothing broadly wrong with it, there was some cinematic choices that drove me bonkers that I just wanna stress over.

So the rest will be under the cut, but for starters, this is about Sarah and Tess

Ok so Sarah isn’t really the meat of this rant, but I do want to talk about her death scene in the show because several things about it had bugged me. And please, I’m not really here to talk about the race swap. Overall I think it’s a little sus, moreso because the actress is the daughter of one of the executives of the show; so it suspiciously indicates nepotism. But the actress herself actually managed to do a pretty great job for Sarah’s death so really I couldn’t give a shit. ANYWAYS, the show’s death. What bugged me about it was the fact that there were CUTS while Joel is trying to comfort her and struggling to pick her up. The beauty of the cinematic choice in the game, where it turns into one continuous shot the moment Joel crawls over to Sarah, is that it inherently puts us in that moment with Joel, and by panning the camera over instead of cutting each time, it really shows how Sarah is right at death���s door, like you can HEAR the exact moment that she cries her last little whimper and just... goes quiet, right when the camera pans towards Tommy’s face. The problem with having scene cuts is that it drags the scene out in such an awkward way. Plus, Sarah’s still actively crying while Joel is screaming for Tommy to help him, and then the moment it cuts to Tommy the audio just cuts out very clumsily. As it cuts back to Joel Sarah’s just already dead, and additionally it makes no sense for Tommy to call to Joel to have him realize Sarah’s dead when she was still screaming and crying right as the camera cut. And then additionally, I’m not fond of the addition of Tommy saying Joel’s name, it feels almost... cold and detached. Like the tone of that line is “Joel she’s dead, it’s too late”. Whereas in the game, he’s moving towards Joel and Sarah and he’s in so much shock because he’s watching his niece dying in a crying, bloody mess.

So long story short, nothing wrong with the scene itself (though I gotta say I don’t think I’m a fan of Pedro Pascal’s line deliveries while he’s trying to stop Sarah’s bleeding. That’s less of a “one’s better than the other” and more of “that’s just my opinion that the emotion of the line delivery in the game was better”). Scene stayed true to the game.

But ohhh, OHHHH, you wanna know which death REALLY ruffled my feathers? Tess. Tess’ death was done so damn dirty in the show compared to the game (and side note, I hate the change to Tess’s character design. I loved the short hair held up by the headband, and I loved the short sleeves that showed her arms). I think by changing the entire death in the show, you take away from the character herself, and let me explain how.

In the game, they get to the Firefly meeting place, the Fireflies have been wiped out, and we find out Tess has been bitten. The military shows up, and Tess tells Joel that she’ll buy them some time and convinces both him and Ellie to leave. And the IMPORTANCE of her line “I WILL NOT turn into one of those things!”, which I’ll talk about. Joel and Ellie leave, Tess composes herself and gets ready to fight the soldiers. As you leave, you hear gunshots and hear Tess scream, and you find out she took out two soldiers; there was six guys and Tess took down two of them. This death is a perfect encapsulation of Tess’ character: resilient, stubborn, tough-as-nails, takes matters into her own hands. That is a death that treats the character with respect and actually plays into the character’s personality. It FITS. Tess is a woman whose life, her choices, it’s all in her hands and she will do what SHE wants to do.

In the TV show, they get to the Firefly meeting place, the Fireflies were killed by infected, and everything still plays out the same with Tess’ infection reveal (and I gotta say I’m not a fan of the dialogue choices nor am I a fan of the fact they tried to heavy-handedly push how Joel and Tess are a couple with the cuddling scene, whereas in the game the ambiguity of their relationship plays better into that final scene. I like the “Look, there’s enough here that you have to feel some sort of obligation to me” way more). Joel hears the infected, Tess starts tipping over some gasoline and grenades, and Joel and Ellie leave. Tess is panicking and frightened as the infected approach and flood in while trying to light the lighter, and then the BULLSHIT. The FUCKING KISS from the infected. And no I don’t wanna hear any ‘bUT it’S NoT A kISS, iT’S INfeCTiNg HEr’ excuses. It’s a fucking kiss disguised under the thin veneer of being some cool new infected lore, and it changes the entire death from a defiant last stance to a creepy, voyeuristic scene that’s going for a cringe-out factor. Like... Sure, you COULD explore that method of infection, it COULD be a neat behavior that we haven’t seen before.

But you don’t do that for Tess. She’s the wrong character to explore that with, and the show better actually try to stay consistent and show that again if people are gonna use the excuse of that scene being necessary. And the reason why it bugs me so much is because Tess, despite her short time in the story, is such a poignant character. She’s Joel’s partner, she’s OUR first partner. Taking that power out of her hands, putting her in this freaky powerless position where it’s like she’s being taken advantage of, does not compliment the character, especially when the death is a very easy to pull off trick that only solely relied on the lighter not working for cheap tension. If you wanted to give us a tense action scene, they could have actually shown us the Tess gunfight scene from her perspective, maybe give her one or two more kills than she had in the game. But this death was really insulting to the character.

TL;DR I’m incredibly autistic about all this dumb shit and it really just boils down to a difference of opinion.

[plantpest]

@ the anons in my ask telling me i'm a bully: have you ever wondered what the world could be like if you gained some basic reading comprehension?

[pride-of-storm]

first day of work and :( my feet hurt :(