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all2angels · 1 year ago

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BURIED MYSELF ALIVE | basement!gerard x reader

warnings: this is kinda intense don't read if sensitive, NSFW!!, exaggerated writing, kinda cringe but it's meant to be like that, gerard is sooo gross and pathetic, i've never written a bj scene before please be kind 🙏 probably a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes because i could not bring myself to proofread im sorry

this was the last place you wanted to be in, like, this was genuinely a fucking hellhole.

when you walked in, the smell was almost rancid. his room was filled with trash, half-eaten chips, mountains of unwashed laundry, socks that had something in it that you didn't want to think about.

he offered for you to sit on his bed, you didn't want to, but it seemed like a better option than the floor, so you sat on the edge of bed.

you hated yourself for having the slightest bit of empathy, then maybe you wouldn't be in this place. gerard had asked you if you wanted to watch a horror movie at his place after you bonded over the topic one day, and you said yes, but have been putting it off for about three weeks.

all of your friends told you to cancel on it, they said that gerard wss a gross pervert freak and that you wouldn't want anything to do with him, but whenever he'd asked you if you still wanted to watch a movie with him he'd look so pathetic and desperate, you didn't have the heart to say no. but you wished you declined it.

gerard was walking all over the place, with a panicked look and rummaging through his stuff. you thought he was probably looking for the cd that had the movie. you wondered how he could find anything in this place. while he was looking, you looked over at his bedside table, seeing dirty magazines. you let out a scoff. couldn't he have at least hidden those before i came over?

"please don't be mad.." he says, his voice filled with guilt, "i know you've- we've waited for weeks, but i can't find my CDs." he takes a seat next to you, and you hold your breath. he stared at you, you didn't know what to do or say, he was just staring awkwardly.

"it's... fine? i guess..." you said, unsettled by the way he looked at you. you swear that he almost leaned in, and you were trying to prevent anything like that from happening. his eyes was filled with infatuation, and yours was filled with absolute disgust. the way he looked at you made you feel dirty. he was so fucking pathetic, but it was kinda hot how much he seemed to like you, how much he seemed like he wanted to please you.

you turned away from him out of pure embarrassment that you thought in the slightest bit that gerard 'pervert' way was attractive or hot, but you couldn't help it. you decided that the only way to stop these thoughts was to get the fuck away from here.

"hey, i should go..." you spoke up, standing up from the spot in his bed you were sitting in. you waited for him to say something, but he just looked at you and frowned. he looked like he was about to cry. jesus fucking christ you could throw up right now.

"gerard...? are you okay?" you sigh, sitting back down. you couldn't leave him like this. you hesitate, but you put your hand on his back, comforting him. you didn't want to ask, you wanted to get out, "what's wrong?" you say through gritted teeth.

"i'm really lonely, y/n, please don't go." he rests his head on your shoulder. he starts to ramble on about something, and you tune out his voice. the more he talked, the more you started to be impatient.

"you're so fucking pathetic..." you said. out loud. fuck. your eyes widened, realizing that he had heard it. he lifted his head, but the had his gross hand on your thigh. you were going to apologize, but the way that he looked shocked made you want to rage.

"are you serious?" you snap, he looks confused and hurt. "you couldn't possibly think you had a chance, c'mon dude. you're so- i mean, you're a freak."

"i jus', uhm, i-i like you—" before he could even finish his sentence you laughed at him. no fucking way. you turned to him again, and seeing his eyes, you knew he was genuine. his eyes were red from crying, and his cheeks flushed.

"you're so fucking pathetic, gerard. shouldn't come across as a surprise, i don't like you back." you say, standing up to leave, but before you can he reaches for your hand. his hand was calloused, it was rough.

"please-" he begs, "please, listen— i promise you..." he doesn't know what to say, but he wants you to stay so bad. "I'll do anything for you. I'll do anything."

"no! stop it, okay? i. don't. like. you. get that shit through your head. i don't even want to be your friend, okay, you-" he cuts you off this time with a kiss. he tastes horrible, but you don't stop it. fuck it, you think. you liked the kiss.

he breaks the kiss, and you could feel his hard dick on your thigh, his face is close to yours. "give me a chance, please..." he says.

you sighed and pushed him onto his messy bed, making him sit on the end of the bed and going on your knees in front of him. you start to unbuckle his belt, then you undo his zipper. you could hear him whimper. you take out his dick, a little part of you at least expected him to have a big dick, but he doesn't. the size was fine, not like it was too small. it wasn't trimmed, and the smell was somehow stronger than other dude's dicks. you try not to think about it too much and hold your breath.

you tease the tip, licking off the precum which tastes sweet and bitter. you swirled your tongue around his tip, and feel him twitch. "fuck..." he moans. you feel his hands on your hair, petting you softly, it felt awkward though, you just brushed past it.

you give his dick a few pumps, hearing him beg for you hurry up. you spit on your hand, messily spreading it on his shaft before you part your lips to take him into your mouth. you look up at him, see his eyes closed, and head back. you kept on moving up and down, he let out a loud groan.

you continued bobbing your head up and down, you teased his balls. he made such pretty noises when you did that.

you kept your pace steady until you started to feel his dick twitch in your mouth, you began to quicken your speed until he eventually released his load in your mouth, it spread to your face and chest, and whatever was left in your mouth you swallowed.

he dropped onto his bed, panting heavily. you cleaned yourself up with a cloth you hoped was clean on his bed. it was probably filled with cum anyway.

you sat next to him. his dick was still out.

"c-can we do that again?" he tiredly asked, looking over to you.you sighed heavily. "i guess so, whatever. just don't tell anyone." you warned, rolling your eyes. welp

#gerard way x reader #gerard way smut #basement gerard way x reader #mcr x reader #my chemical romance x reader #all2angels

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hatoheart · 2 months ago

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hey so I’ve said before I prefer to keep my blog a drama free place but

Oh well. It’s my blog and I can break my own rules as I see fit lol.

My background with Lily Orchard: I had been a fan since about summer 2019 (20 years old, I was born December 12, 1998) and had heard her talk about the various abuse she claims to have gone through throughout her life. With no reason to believe otherwise, I just accepted this. I bought into everything she said when allegations came out against her because I had already anchored my beliefs to things she’d said. It’s hard to dismantle beliefs that are so ingrained in you.

In June 2024 I made a tumblr post asking for actual evidence, and to be fair, I had plenty of people come to me in good faith. Unfortunately, I was unwilling to believe a lot of what I was sent, parroting the same excuses for them I’d heard Lily use. I like to think of myself as someone who’s objective and looks at things from every side, and yeah, I’ll fully admit I was not doing that at all here. I got dunked on a bit, rightfully so.

I was a member of Lily’s Patreon server from June-September 2024 (I only just joined Patreon itself in June 2024). I started as a $1 Patron before bumping up to a $5 Patron for access to the Patron chat. I wouldn’t say I was especially close to Lily, I certainly wasn’t part of her “inner circle”, and got reprimanded by her a few times for various minor things, but ultimately she trusted me enough to let me into the private “server regulars” chat she implemented a week or so before I left.

The first major crack came when she used me venting in her stream chat about my beef with KP as an excuse to drop her and Sai’s full names. I did not at all endorse that and was actually quite pissed at her for doing that. I value my privacy a lot, and I try to extend that courtesy to everyone else I come across online. I’ve got plenty of good friends online and I couldn’t tell you the real-life names of about 90% of them.

Ultimately, the incest game folder was the major incident that got me thinking. She did her best to debunk it, but it was just… such a flimsy excuse? It seemed like she was desperate to cover it up. I don’t know, I’d bought into plenty of things she’d said in the past, but this seemed… unbelievable. So after spending a few days conflicted, I looked back into the evidence I’d been given months prior. And it was… a lot. I lashed out at some people trying to help me during this time, and blocked someone who’d been very cordial to me in DMs. I was stuck. I didn’t know what to believe. I suppose you could say this was my breaking point.

Ultimately the evidence did prove overwhelming, so on September 13th, 2024, I quietly left Lily’s community. No big statement, no fuss, just quietly retracted my Patreon sub, unfollowed on tumblr, and unsubscribed on YouTube. I’ve been quiet for the past month, give or take.

And man, has hindsight been 20/20.

She frames everything as “my boundaries tho” so that she can excuse being rude to her fans. She consistently denies Tara Callie/Stockholm and other wrongdoings without any proof to back up her claims.

I’ve watched KP and Courtney’s videos. I’ve looked at Britt’s evidence. I’ve privately made amends with all three of them.

I had already planned on watching Joon the King’s video when it released. I was a fan of his prior and figured if he was covering Lily… then there must be something I was ignoring.

Part of the reason it can be so difficult to look into Lily’s past is because the resources aren’t neatly gathered in one place. Joon’s video does just that. An easily digestible resource for people to get the gist of who she is.

And I’m sorry to anyone I may have hurt on her behalf. I am not claiming to be innocent here, I knowingly dug my heels in while claiming to want evidence, and then refused to look at it. I’m sorry for the rancid shit I’ve said and done to people in defense of Lily.

But I’ve opened my eyes. I’ve stopped hiding from the truth.

I’m not going to discuss this further, as I’ve said I prefer to keep my blog a fairly lighthearted place for me to hyperfixate and shitpost. I’m not interested in dunking on Lily or harassing her (please don’t harass her), but just being transparent and letting everyone know where I stand as of right now. This needed to be said eventually.

#emily's ramblings #lily orchard

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natalievoncatte · 2 years ago

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CW: discussion of death and dying.

The gun was still on her hip when Lena walked into her penthouse. She probably should have gotten rid of it, just for the sake of disposing of evidence. It was far from the only one she owned, and she wouldn’t miss it. Then again, one does not discard lightly the weapon of fratricide. She’d decide what to do with the murder weapon later; right now, there was only one thought screaming in her head.

I killed Lex. I killed my brother.

It kept repeating in her brain on an endless loop.

I killed my brother for a liar. A betrayer. He was right and I was wrong. She only-

Lena was not alone. There was a figure seated on her sofa, staring straight ahead. Lena knew those blond curls, falling in a dark river like warm honey. Supergirl.

Supergirl, not Kara. Kara was good. Kara loved her, trusted her, watched out for her, had her back. Kara kept her secrets and gave her a shoulder to cry on always had her back. Kara was good, and Kara was a lie.

Lena walked around the couch, eyes wide and lips trembling, her features pulled into a mask of morose fury. How dare she just break in here and… sit there.

“I died.”

Lena froze.

“I died,” Supergirl said, again. “The clone of me that Lex had, she was a duplicate created by Harun-El somehow. She killed me. I died.”

Supergirl’s brilliant blue eyes flashed in the twilight of Lena’s dark apartment and locked on her.

“There was nothing. No warm light of Rao welcoming me home to live in peace with my people forever. No tunnel of light. There was just nothing. I was gone and then I wasn’t. Alex said the grass brought me back.”

Lena licked her lips. She was fixed to the spot.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m Kara.”

Those two little words, those treacherous words, hit Lena like a freight train. Her knees buckled and she sagged, catching herself by an end table.

Kara met her gaze.

“There were a million reasons why I never told you. They’re all stupid and pointless. When I woke up that was the first thing I thought of. I died and I never told you.”

Lena tried to speak, but her throat had gone so dry that it was like trying to breath through a mournful of sand. She sagged further, barely able to fall into a side chair.

“At first I just didn’t know you well enough. Then I screwed everything up by being a complete ass to you, and I never even said I was sorry. But I was sorry. So I was too scared to tell you because I didn’t want you to hate me. Then by the time I wanted to tell you again, all of this had happened and I was still afraid you’d hate me.”

Kara looked down at the floor.

“But then I was dead and none of it mattered anymore. None of the things that had been important to me mattered when I was dying. You know what I was thinking as she crushed the life out of me?”

“No,” Lena choked out.

“This is it?” said Kara. “All that… and this is it? Just like that? This is all I get?”

Silence ruled the dark apartment. The back edge of Lena’s gun dug uncomfortably into her flank. Kara just sat there, looking through the floor. Perhaps literally.

“Kara,” Lena said, without quite knowing why. “I’m sure… you weren’t…”

“No, Lena, I died. It wasn’t like when Reign beat me to a pulp and threw me off a building. That was different. This was different. I can’t even say how. I just know.”

When Reign…

Lena had been there that night. Reign had beaten Supergirl into a coma, thrown her off a building and left her broken and bloodied in the street. Lena thought she’d died that night.

Wait.

That was Kara, too.

Sharp, rancid bile, harsh and acidic, burned the back of Lena’s throat. She choked it down, trembling.

Kara looked at her again.

“I have something else I have to tell you.”

Lena needed a drink. Now. She wobbled across the room to the kitchen and grabbed the nearest wine bottle, pouring herself a glass and downing half of it in one go. It was a dry red, harsh and sharp on her tongue.

“Kara,” Lena began. “Before you say anything else-“

“I’m in love with you.”

Lena wasn’t sure what she expected Kara to say, but not that. Not just… say it. She couldn’t say it. Not when Lena has been grasping that secret so hard that it always threatened to slip from her fingers, reedy to leap from her grip from being held so tight. The words simultaneously made her feel as if her heels would float from the floor and nearly drove her down to it. She leaned on the white marble countertop, trembling.

“None of the reasons I kept that secret matter anymore, either. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I’ll leave if you want me to. I just… I died,” Kara’s voice crumbled into a sob, barely intelligible, “and I didn’t tell you.”

Lena said nothing. She downed the rest of the wine.

“What do you want from me?” She finally choked out.

“I want to tell you about Krypton. I want movie nights and game nights and big belly burgers and brunches. I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so bad I don’t know how I never did. If you want that.”

Again, Lena went silent.

“I want to make up for the shit I’ve put you through. I want to show you how much I care for you, as often and as thoroughly as I can. Dying without you fucking sucked. I want to live with you instead.”

Lena’s breath quickened. Kara’s boots creaked as she stood up, her cape billowing slightly behind her as she crossed the room, keeping a respectful distance.

“I’ll go, if you want. I just had to say it.”

Lena pressed her fingers against the countertop until they went white and her palms trembled. She felt the weight of the gun on her hip.

“Stay,” she whispered.

There is no prompt for this one. The idea just came to me and I had to write it out.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #shit gets real when Kara curses #angst #angsty supercorp #these two are a mess seriously #get them some therapy #Kara just glossing over massive trauma in canon will never not be bizarre #she died can she have a minute here

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justmeinatree · 9 months ago

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Extra - Saturdays Take The Pain Away

Summary : an Extra to Let Passion Get Too Much … niall x louis x reader threesome (nestled between part 4 & 5)

*note - i made this chapter an extra because there’s no smut. i know that a lot of people following this story are just here for the smut, and that’s totally cool ! but this idea of feelings has been in my mind for a long time and i just needed to get it out there. if you’re not here for feelings, and only here for smut, you can skip right over this part and not feel like you’ve miss anything !

previous part /// jump to pt. 1

Word Count : 5.3k

A/N : i’m sorry. i made some promises, but this was plaguing my brain and then it just sort of ended up on my screen and well now it’s on yours. enjoy ! ✌️

GIFs : unknown - msg for credit

you were not looking forward to this dinner. not one fucking bit.

it had been months since the gang had gotten together, and in theory, you should be ecstatic to see everyone again. and yet, here you were, sitting in the passenger’s seat of niall’s car, resenting the fact that he essentially bribed you to come. fuck him, and fuck him for knowing how to get you to do things you don’t want to do.

you trudged behind him into the restaurant, following along until you almost bump into him, noticing that you’d made it to the large table in the back of the establishment.

and as if this night couldn’t get any worse, you were the last two to arrive, forced to sit in the last two seats at the table, right in front of louis and his new girlfriend.

it was a dinner where everyone would finally meet her, the lady that stole his attention clean away from you, for the last few months. and damn it all, she was actually really pretty. like really, really pretty. fuck, you’d actually consider making a move on her had the circumstances been different, and if you didn’t already absolutely hate her guts.

niall notes your sudden pause, your eyes clearly fixated on the end of the table where you’d be forced to sit, making him give your shoulder a comforting squeeze, murmuring against your ear, “be civil. we’re doing this for louis.”

so you sigh, put on a smile, surely the fakest smile that all of your friends will most likely see right through, and sit in the god forsaken chair you were condemned to for the next few hours.

you couldn’t keep your eyes away from them. the way his fucking hand rests on her thigh, incredibly unsubtly, under the table. the way she fucking leans into him, all lovey eyes, as if she’d just learned that he hung the moon in the sky. something you’ve known for years now. the way his fucking nose bumps into her temple when he whispers something in her ear. the fucking blush that rises to her cheeks when he obviously says something a little too sexual.

but it was also the little crinkle by his eyes when he smiled, the glint in his irises when he laughed, the little bit of stubble starting to grow on his jaw, the bob in his throat when he swallowed, the grasp of his fingers around his liquor glass, and the fact that she was allowed to cuddle and touch and all of a sudden you weren’t.

you were fucking fuming.

and niall, bless niall, knew you were having a hard time, his hand always perched against you, be it your knee or your shoulder, even giving a little scratch to the back of your neck in comfort. you had to remember to thank him later. because he was helping, really was, you were just a little too worked up at the moment to really take notice.

the only thing that seemed to help was the constant flow of liquor, always a bottle somewhere on the table, something you were reaching for more than you typically ever do. by now, you’d long forgotten how many times you refilled your cup, the concoction having turned absolutely rancid halfway through. you were notorious for leaving a few sips at the bottom of the cup, always refilling with something new, the current mix becoming more and more sour, and more and more potent.

niall was letting it slide, for now, seeing as he knew you needed it. and again, bless niall, taking one for the team, and pacing his drinking in order to keep a watchful eye on you.

but as time went on, louis had taken notice as well, “going a little hard tonight there, love.”

and you were fuming all over again, the liquor clearly running rampant through your system, “don’t pretend like you care now,” you mutter, eyebrows furrowing, gaze flicked down, because you could not stand to even look at him anymore. especially now that her hand was perched on his chest, as she talked over him to oli.

louis instantly looks over at niall, a questioning glance, worry etched on his features. he wasn’t blind, he wasn’t naive, he knew very well that you weren’t taking this easily. but it’s when he catches the little shake of niall’s head, a silent plea to just let it go for now, a message received loud and clear, making louis sigh, hand tugging on his roots quickly.

so he waits. knows you well enough that he’s just going to be patient, wait it out until the moment comes where you inevitably have to pee. and with niall now distracted, and louis’ girlfriend happily chatting with oli’s lady, he quietly excuses himself, waiting in the hallway next to the one bathroom that’s occupied.

you’re startled as you step out of the toilet, not expecting someone to be right there. expecting louis even less. fuck.

“will you tell me what’s going on ?” louis asks softly, wanting to keep you calm, genuinely worried for you, his bestest friend.

but he’s met with a sigh, a shoulder shrug, and a quiet, “don’t want to talk to about it with you,” as you attempt to sidestep him and head back to the comfort of niall.

louis is quicker though, having less alcohol inebriating him, hand gripping into your upper arm, pulling you back into the bathroom along with him, closing and locking the door.

you use the wall for support, the world spinning a bit thanks to the absurd mix of liquor. your eyes were fixated on both your shoes, louis’ getting closer and closer and closer, until they were right up, toe to toe, against yours.

“please talk to me, love,” he breathes, making you look up, noting how close he’s gotten. so fucking close. you could feel his tiny breaths hitting your nose, his fingers almost touching yours, and you were spinning, spiralling into a never-ending swirl of louis.

you’re not even sure how it happened, but your lips were mingling with his, your hands gripping into his shirt. and everything seemed to melt away, float off into nothingness as all that mattered in that moment was louis.

but just as quickly as it happened, his mouth was briskly pulled away, and the invading sense of him had disappeared, instantly replaced with a large hand wrapped around your neck, holding you in place. “the fuck are you doing ?” louis snaps.

he hadn’t even realized what he was doing. that is, until he caught the look that flashed through your eyes. a mix of submission, of excitement, of calm relaxation, of lust, and fuck, even more than all of that, trust.

slowly, his hand falls from it’s hold on your throat, his breathing laboured as his mind absolutely reels. louis never meant to do that, not for a second. he’s not even sure what took over him, but it’s making him crumble, as if his insides were so confused they were running around like headless chickens, bumping into everything in their path.

so he focuses on the moment that brought all of this on, the moment you lunged into him for a deeply passionate kiss. and then his simply confused insides shift to confused anger, “have you gone fuckin mad ? you know the rules and this is straight up fuckin cheating. and you’re roping me into it too,” he adds sternly, finger poking into your chest, on the verge of shouting, because fuck, really ? “don’t ever fuckin make me cheat on someone again, i don’t do that shit.”

heavy. your chest was heavy. the water in your eyes was even heavier, tears falling down your cheeks, unable to stop no matter how hard you willed them to. it felt like you were breaking all over again, feeling the weight of the loss of louis all over again. you didn’t handle it well the first time, and you were clearly not handling it well the second time.

“i miss you,” you whisper quietly, a stark contrast to louis’ shouting, shame filling your entire demeanour.

louis knows what you meant, doesn’t need you to explain further, and as heart wrenching as it is to look at you in such a state, he’s still filled with the same bout of confused anger, “we knew this was going to happen, darling. christ, what the fuck did you expect ? that i’d just sit around waiting for you and niall to want to fuck ? never have someone to call my own, ever again ? be your god damn lap dog for the rest of eternity ? you’re not that fuckin naive,” he shakes his head, turning away from you and leaving the bathroom entirely. he couldn’t deal with this. not right now. not with his girlfriend surely wondering where he’s gone for so long.

he heads back to the dinning area, taking the path that forces him to walk behind niall’s chair. he crouches once he reaches niall, hand falling into a pat on his friend’s shoulder as he whispers against his ear, “should go check on your girlfriend. she’s in the bathroom.”

and as quickly as he’d arrived, louis was gone, back to his spot next to his girlfriend, offering her a smooth smile and a soft peck on the cheek.

niall however, is left utterly confused, eyebrows furrowed as he looks over louis, trying to get any other hint out of him, wanting to be prepared for whatever he was about to walk in on. but with louis too engrossed in whatever conversation he’s just joined, and niall not wanting to leave you if you were really in need, he decides to simply head in blind.

when louis had left, you felt your knees give out, your back gliding down the wall until your bum hit the floor. your elbows rested on your knees, hands supporting your forehead.

it didn’t take long for the telltale knock that was surely niall checking up on you, a sigh leaving your lips before you speak out, “s’unlocked.”

niall walks in quietly, shutting the door behind himself and locking it, looking down at you with empathetic sadness in his eyes. he extends his hand for you to grasp, helping you come to a stand, landing his hands on your hips, walking you backwards to the counter, and hoisting you onto it. niall stands between your legs, hands soothingly rubbing patterns into your thighs, “what happened, petal ?”

you look up into niall’s eyes, shame and sadness and nervousness pouring out of you, as you murmur, “i kissed louis.”

niall breathes, shaking his head softly, before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in for a tight hug, “you miss him don’t you ?”

you nod against niall’s chest, face pressed against him, breathing him in. something about niall has always brought you so much comfort, you couldn’t quite describe it, but in moments like these, his calmness was everything. “it doesn’t change how i feel about you, you know that right ?” you needed to be sure, because it was true. so far, if anything, it felt like the addition of louis was somehow making your connection with niall stronger.

“of course i know that, petal,” niall murmurs, giving you a reassuring squeeze, and a lingering kiss to the head, “i know because i feel it too,” he adds.

you nod, it was something you kind of figured, both niall and louis were complete shite at hiding any sort of feelings. “how are you handling it so well ?”

“m’not sure,” niall sighs, shrugging. “i don’t think i’m handling it well, i think i’m just really good at shoving it aside and not thinking about it.”

“s’not healthy,” you murmur against his chest, playfully scolding him, lifting your head for the first time, looking up at niall. the easy, soothing, understanding conversation seemed to regulate your emotions so well, it’s something niall caught on to quickly in your relationship, something he’s happy to use as a secret weapon whenever it was needed.

“i guess it just hurts,” you sigh softly, “we were building something so strong, so good. and so fast. maybe too fast even,” you ramble on, your thoughts a bit jumbled, coming out as they piece themselves together. “but then he just found someone else. it’s like, i could understand if it wasn’t feeling as good anymore, or if we were growing apart for some reason. but it happened when things were just getting better. i wish i could understand,” you nod, finally figuring out what you were trying to say all along.

“we may never understand, pet,” niall hums, nodding. “i wish i knew as well, i really do, but we can’t dwell on answers. truth is, he met someone that he obviously has been enjoying enough to give it a go with. i’m sure he didn’t plan on it. last i knew he wasn’t even looking. sometimes these things just happen,” niall shrugs. “i know it doesn’t make it any easier, but that might just be it.”

“feels like you’re saying that she’s better than us,” you look at him, face smooshed in a mix of disbelief, of jealousy, of disgust, with a slight tinge of are you fuckin kidding me.

niall laughs, hands landing on your cheeks, thumbs smoothing out the crinkles in your skin, “m’not saying that. i don’t believe for a second that she has anything on you.”

you smile, knowing that he’s just being silly to make you feel better. but the gesture feels amazing none the less.

“what do you say we ditch this place and go home, have a cuddle on the couch with some shite food and one of those awful movies you like so much ?” niall smiles wide, wanting you to feel better, wanting to make you smile for real, wanting to make you laugh. wanting to make you enjoy a moment without the invading thought of louis.

and honestly, nothing would feel better. so you nod, shooting niall a smile, one that screams thank you for being you, a look niall is privy to more than anyone else you know. christ, you really loved him.

“c’mon,” niall hums, taking your hand and helping you hop off the countertop, arm wrapping around your shoulders, leading you back to get your things from the table.

“leaving already ?” louis asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion when he noticed you both gathering your things.

“yeah,” niall nods, “s’an emergency cuddles kinda night,” he adds, noting the way louis deflates a bit at the thought. so niall turns to you, handing you the car keys, “go ahead petal, m’just gonna pay and meet you at the car.”

once you were out of ear shot, niall turns to louis, taking the opportunity to speak to him quickly while his girlfriend was getting drinks with a few others. but louis jumps in first, “emergency cuddles ? s’everything alright ?”

niall looks at him, confused with why he’s asking, “uh, not really,” he chuckles, “s’kind of the point of emergency cuddles.”

“she wasn’t supposed to hate me,” louis sighs quietly, elbows landing hard on the table, forehead resting in his hands as he thinks. contemplates every single decision he’s ever made that have led to him this point.

making his way around the table, niall comes to a stand next to louis, patting his shoulder, “she doesn’t hate you louis. s’quite the opposite really, that’s what’s making this so fuckin hard for us.”

louis’ head snaps up to meet niall’s, his girlfriend now back and standing right behind him, patiently waiting for access to her chair. but louis’ mind couldn’t quite focus on her yet, because what did niall say ? no one’s ever told louis anything of the sort. what does he mean by the opposite ? what does -

“look, i gotta get back to her mate, have a good night yeah ?” niall hums, mustering up the best smile he could, ruffling louis’ hair and patting his girlfriend’s arm, offering a small, “good to meet ya,” before turning his back on the table and heading off.

louis felt like he couldn’t breathe, felt like his chest was constricting, felt like every ounce of power in his body had shot to his brain, trying to detangle the mess he put himself in. he’d never considered for a minute that you would have any sort of feelings for him that were more than friendly. never considered niall being so nonchalant about his girlfriend of over a decade having feelings for- “he said us,” louis murmurs, feeling the world he’s known crash around him.

he can hear his girlfriend asking a question, but he’s too focused staring into nothingness, eyes locked in the direction that niall left in, now long gone.

it had gotten late, like two whole movies after a late dinner kind of late. but you were so cozy, curled up on the couch in niall’s arms, head tucked into his neck and shoulder, his fingertips gliding up and down your arm, the gentle squeezes he’d give you in soothing comfort. the evening of emergency cuddles and shite movies had done wonders, with the distraction and the time to simmer down from the earlier shenanigans, you were back to your normal, calm self.

you were aimlessly flicking for another movie, hovering over legally blonde, ignoring niall’s mutters of “christ, this one again ? just fuckin watched it a couple weeks ago,” when you hear niall’s front door open and shut, then locking, louis rounding the corner and trudging up to the living room, “glad you’re still up-“

“make yourself at home, mate,” niall cuts him off, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, following his path to stand in front of both of you.

you were both shooting confused glances, watching louis pace the living room floor back and forth a few times, before finally breaking his pattern, stopping and staring at niall, “what did you mean earlier ?”

niall’s eyebrows shoot up, unsure what he said that put louis in such a state “uh- what ?” niall shakes his head, utterly unsure of what louis was referring to. “what are you doing here mate ? s’like 3am.”

“m’i not welcomed at 3am anymore ?” louis asks quietly, shyly. he looks small, looks almost like a petrified animal, something that doesn’t go unnoticed to either you nor niall. and you both hated it, torn up inside because fuck, it was louis. he was never a small petrified animal, he was usually a loud rambunctious one.

“no, that’s not- what ?” niall sighs, shaking his head. “y’always welcome here, louis, you know that,” he offers softly, gaze fixated on his to convey that he really means that. thankfully louis visibly deflates when the words hit his brain, a little ounce of comfort in knowing that. “but, help us understand, please. shouldn’t you be with your lady ? not barging in on us in the middle of the night ?”

louis takes a deep breath, eyes flicking across the room as his brain pieces together exactly what he wants to ask. he was so jumbled up, it wasn’t easy to form one coherent thought without 8 other notions intruding. he sits himself on the coffee table, facing you both, wrangling the one thought that was plaguing him most, “i need to know what you meant before you left. when you said it was the opposite,” louis murmurs shyly, eyes flicking to yours when he said the word opposite. and just as quickly, he looks back at niall, adding, “and you said us. said it was hard for us,” he emphasizes.

niall chuckles breathily, shaking his head, “this couldn’t wait til morning huh ?”

“no !” louis all but shouts, niall’s eyes going wide, as he starts to understand that this entire thing is getting way bigger than he ever had imagined.

“okay, okay,” niall hums softly, hoping that a calm conversation works just the same on louis as it does on you. “sorry louis, m’sorry. just a little caught off guard by this.”

“so am i,” louis groans, scrubbing his face with his palms, willing to do anything to slow his mind and just be able to think properly.

“alright,” niall nods, shuffling a bit so he’s seated more on the edge of the couch, his hand extending to land on louis’ knee, giving a comforting squeeze, his thumb fluttering into a little soothing rub. “just tell us what’s going on, we want to help, mate.”

louis takes a breath, gaze fixated on niall’s, “just please tell me, please. i need to know what you meant. it’s driving me mental.”

“what am i missing ?” you pipe in quietly, shuffling yourself to the edge of the couch as well, wanting nothing more than to be closer to both of them. a feeling you hadn’t been able to soak in for months.

“when i asked you to go wait in the car,” niall explains, looking over at you, “lou said that he didn’t want you to hate him-“

“you think i hate you ?” you interrupt, your face snapping to stare at louis, sadness washing over your features.

“no, it’s not- i don’t-“ louis stutters, because really, he knows you don’t hate him, it’s just he never thought-

“fuck, i don’t hate you louis, i love you,” you blurt out, “why on earth do you think i hate you ? what did i do to make you believe that ?”

louis just stares at you, mouth slightly parted, ears ringing loudly, breath caught in his throat. did he hear that right ? did you just- but niall- niall. fuck. his best friend. louis’ gaze snaps to him, worry and panic etched into his features, still too frozen to process properly and form a coherent sentence.

“what ?” niall asks softly, breathing a laugh, “think i didn’t know that ? she hasn’t exactly been hiding it.”

“but- but how-“ louis groans loudly, looking back at you for a moment before landing his head back into his hands. this was too much, there was too much happening at once and his brain was imploding.

“louis,” you murmur soothingly, tracing his bird tattoo to get his attention, his face lifting from his hands, eyes filled with a desperate need to understand. “do you want to know why niall and i work so well together ?”

he nods, eyes flicking between the both of you, as you turn a bit to face niall better, smile taking over your features, something you couldn’t quite control whenever you looked at the man you loved so much. “we love each other, unconditionally. we don’t get angry with each other, we empathize, sympathize, understand.”

niall smiles back at you, eyes shining with pure adoration, as he adds on, “we don’t keep secrets, we just talk things out, ask questions, be there for each other. it’s done nothing but make us stronger, make our love stronger,” he hums, your forehead coming to rest against his, allowing yourself a small moment to take him in.

louis watches, biting hard on his lip, because this is exactly what he was afraid of. exactly what made him go find a girlfriend in the first place. he was jealous, mother fucking jealous, and he didn’t know how to handle it. still doesn’t. so he gets up, making a quiet exit towards the hall.

“hey,” you look over, “where are you going ?” you ask quickly, shooting up and grabbing at louis’ arm, forcing him to turn around, facing the couch again.

“s’that,” louis sighs, hand waving in the general direction of niall, the couch, and where you just were, sucked into your little world of niall.

“what’s that ?” you ask, leading him back into the living room.

“the two of you, fuck, i- i don’t know. jealousy ?” he murmurs, his shoulders deflating as he talks about it for the first time. “m’never gonna have the connection you two have.”

“christ, louis,” niall shakes his head, “‘course you wont. especially not if you keep running off to find a girlfriend every time. doesn’t happen overnight, gotta build it with us.”

louis sits back down on the coffee table, enjoying the ability to face the both of you while being in close proximity. it seemed to make this whole thing easier, just the fact that you could all feel each other, feed off of everyone’s calm demeanour. “there you go with that us again.”

“d’you honestly think he doesn’t want you here ?” you ask softly, utterly confused, because really, niall wasn’t all that great at hiding the way he’s been feeling about louis.

“i don’t know what to think,” louis mutters exasperatedly. “up until a matter of hours ago, i just assumed this was all for good sex.”

“daft at reading people, you,” niall sighs, shaking his head. “guess that’s my fault though. i know that about you, should have been more honest from the start.”

“me too,” you nod, agreeing. “we all could have been more honest, i think,” you smile softly.

“i’ll start,” louis hums, desperate for some clarity, eyes locked on your hand that had fallen onto his knee, fingertips rubbing his inner thigh over his pants. it was easier to keep his gaze down, scared of your facial reactions as he pours his heart out. the idea of empathetic understanding, no matter what, was still a very new concept. one that would take some practice, to gain the confidence, he assumes. “last time we were all together, we shared a moment, you and i,” he explains, eyes flicking to yours before falling back down to your hand. “it fuckin scared the piss outta me,” he breathes a nervous chuckle.

“why did it scare you ?” you ask quietly, hand squeezing his thigh, as a silent confirmation that he’s safe to speak his mind.

“because i was just going to wind up hurting myself,” louis goes on. “i couldn’t have you the way i wanted you. m’not gonna be your fuckin lap dog,” he chuckles softly, referencing earlier, pulling a little giggle out of you.

“now where’d you go and get an idea like that ?” niall laughs, shaking his head.

“because she’s your fuckin girlfriend,” louis groans. “christ, i want my best mate’s girlfriend,” he sighs, his head tipping back to look up at the ceiling, because this was really happening. “i want my best mate’s girlfriend,” he repeats, “and i want-“ he cuts himself off, eyes squeezing shut. fuck. this is not what he had planned out for his life. this is not what he expected when you asked him to join the two of you that fateful first time.

“i want you too,” niall fills in, hand reaching to grasp louis’, making him look down to both of you, trying to decipher your faces.

“what’s this mean then ?” louis mutters quietly, a bit too scared to say it loudly, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“i don’t know,” niall answers honestly. “and we don’t have to figure it all out right now. this was a lot, tonight. but now with our real feelings out in the open, we can think about it clearly. think about what we want. talk about it openly.”

niall, thank fuck for niall, always the level headed one. you truly dont know what you would do without him.

“it’s nice that we’re all on the same page,” you pipe up, smiling at both of them, turning a bit towards louis with a smirk.

“what’s that look for ?” louis laughs, his chest feeling so much lighter all of a sudden. the weight he’d been carrying for months finally vanished.

“well, i’d like to kiss you right now, but, you know, don’t wanna make you a cheater,” you giggle, referencing his little outburst from earlier.

“speaking of which,” niall jumps in, playfully scolding louis, “i hear you’re going around choking our girl in random bathrooms.”

louis presses his fingertips into his eyes, trying to stifle a laugh. our girl. christ, how much he loves hearing that. and it all just seems so ridiculous now. especially with how easy the two of you made this talk. “no fuckin clue what got into me. s’like i just knew it would make her stop. fuck, i really don’t know, my mind was going wild,” he answers niall, as best as he could, before turning to you, “wouldn’t be cheating,” he hums with a smirky smile, “after we left the restaurant, i brought her back home. told her i couldn’t see her anymore.”

you bite your lip, eyes locked on louis’, as you can hear niall’s chuckle in the background, “now why would you go and do a thing like that ?”

louis’ gaze flicks to niall’s, a knowingly playful look in his eyes, “because she wasn’t you two,” he hums, fingertips gliding down your cheek to your chin, then up your jaw to cup your neck, “she was nothing like you,” he murmurs.

“told you,” niall smacks your arm playfully, watching the blinding smile take over your features, slight blush rising to your cheeks.

“careful, m’gonna get an ego,” you joke quietly, your heart beating rapidly, because this was fucking finally happening.

“you’ve earned it,” louis whispers, his lips coming up to yours, so close, ghosting breath against your skin, “fuck, i love you,” he murmurs before closing his mouth onto the plushness of your bottom lip.

a soft moan works its way from your chest, fingers instantly reaching up to tangle into louis’ hair. louis’ softest hair. fuck you missed him.

louis pulls away, faster than you would have liked, resting his forehead against yours, catching his breath momentarily. it really didn’t take much for you to render him breathless, something he’d almost forgotten.

the tiny whine doesn’t go unnoticed though, feeling the puff of louis’ breathy giggle against your lips, “just have one little thing i want to do before getting too lost in you.”

your eyebrows furrow, pulling away from him just enough to get a good look at his face, slightly confused, because what else could there be ?

but his gaze turns to niall’s, shuffling himself to be a bit closer to him, leaning in for a kiss.

niall takes no time falling into it, feeling louis’ fist tighten itself in his shirt, right over niall’s chest, muttering into the kiss, “i love you too.”

niall nods as a silent form of acknowledgment, a silent me too, their mouths still attached, too busy revelling into each other. niall’s hand comes up to glide through louis’ hair, gripping at the nape of his neck.

louis pulls away a moment later, looking at the both of you, taking this in. a lot had happened tonight. a lot of the weight he’d been feeling, lifted. a lot of the confusion and stress and panic and overflow of thoughts and emotions, just wiped away. and all of a sudden, he’s tired. feels like the moment after a large comforting meal, when you feel full in the best way, wanting nothing more than to get cozy and have a good sleep.

“look tired, tommo,” niall hums, fingertips gliding over the bags under his eyes, hands falling from his face to pat his thigh, “c’mon, lets get some sleep. think we all need it after tonight.”

“i’ll even let you take the middle,” you smile wide, leading them both up to the bedroom. you really wanted to lay down, you hadn’t noticed the toll this had taken on you until your adrenaline dropped, leaving you downright exhausted.

“i’m fuckin honoured,” louis laughs, lunging right in the middle of niall’s bed, shuffling himself comfortably under the blankets. with his eyes closed, he can feel you sliding in on his left, niall on his right. he can feel himself be saturated in calm happiness, giddy for whatever this new situation holds. excited for what he’ll be waking up to with his two favourite people.

Part 5

……

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

tags : @cc-horan28 @acesofspadess @slutforcoffein @blondedmgc @daphnesutton

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ckret2 · 4 months ago

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What your thoughts on other bill ships? Like Kryptos/Bill or Stanley/Bill. I love your Wasting Away Again in the Goldilocks Zone fic on ao3 and this is my first time using Tubmlr, so I’m not sure how it works here, so sorry if I sent this wrong place 💔

u found the right place

I don't ship him with any of the Henchmaniacs (except for saying an eye-bat is his ex because it's the funniest possible option), but I think he's hooked up with half of them. I'd say "casually hooked up" but I don't think there's anything casual about it, the Henchmaniacs are fueled by petty drama and rancid vibes.

I acknowledge Kryptos is easy for ships because he looks like he could conceivably be the same species as Bill and we know so little about him you could give him almost any personality, but i'm not interested in it myself. Especially since it feels like a lot of what I've seen with Kryptos/Bill goes for "Kryptos is the one nice guy in the gang and Bill is tsundere for him" and that doesn't do anything for me.

I occasionally contemplate "wouldn't it be fucked up if Bill hooked up with Stan so he could pretend he's with Ford and Stan knew but still went with it for some reason (idk why, maybe Stan's super lonely, maybe Bill's currently wearing a smoking hot human body, the point is we want DRAMA so any excuse will work)" but outside that, nah. I think Stan and Bill would be VERY fun partners in crime and they're GREAT to bounce off each other, but I prefer them platonically, I don't feel a romantic or sexual spark between them.

You wanna know what Bill ships I'm fascinated with?

Bill/Trembley. it's GOTTA be one sided though, Bill's gotta be head over heels for this weirdo like a teenage girl for her first celebrity crush while Trembley never even notices

Bill/the howling void he totally lied about not dating in TBOB. Here I am 15,000 words deep into writing their entire relationship start to finish... I was literally already writing about Bill dating a black hole, who happens to howl, prior to TBOB; so the book just took my OC and made her canon??? yeah sure fine I'll take it, damn.

Bill-possessing-Silas/the 100-something wives he stole from his cultists according to thisisnotawebsitedotcom. weeks after that reveal this is still the funniest & most fascinating thing to me simply because Bill had ABSOLUTELY NO REASON to do that, truly enthralled by his potential motives, I cannot believe this triangle is married

Bill/the shaman. I just think something was going on there. I can feel it. The shaman taught him a bit of magic, how often do you think that happens to Mr. Trillion-Year-Old All-Seeing Eye? Probably not much!

#anonymous #ask #bill cipher

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chapel-of-rizztual · 11 months ago

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cw: mentions of vomiting, mentions of past abuse (nothing graphic)

Dew was brought to Phantoms room by a rancid smell. It was strong and acidic, reminding Dew of the smell of sulphur from the pits. He pushed the door open and nearly gagged as the smell only got stronger and more intense. The room was dark, the curtains pulled tightly closed to block the early morning sun from streaming in. He flicked the light on, immediately noticing a puddle of vomit on the floor by Phantom’s bed. That explains the smell.

“Phant?” Dew enters the room, kicking the door closed with his foot. “You in here?”

The lump under the covers on the bed whimpers and Phantom’s very tearful face pops out from under them. He spots Dew his face crumples, more tears spill down his cheeks and he lets out a shuddering gasping breath.

“I- I’m sorry.” He gasps out.

Dew frowns, looking at Phantom with confusion. “Sorry? What are you sorry for, bug?”

Phantom doesn’t say anything just points to the vomit on the floor with a pitiful sniff, more tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Just for that? For not making it to the bin? Bug, you don’t have to be sorry for that, we’ve done that before.” Dew laughs.

Phantom shakes his head and another sob shudders through him.

“S-sorry for being sick.” He sobs again and Dew can see him begin to visibly shake. “Please don’t punish me.”

“Punish you? Babybug, why would I punish you?” Dew asks softly moving closer to the bed, carefully stepping over the vomit puddle. He hope the grimace on his face isn’t visible but with the way Phantom whimper and cowers back, he’d noticed.

Dew sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches out to pat at Phantom’s knee through the covers.

“Why would I punish you, baby?”

Phantom chews on his lip. “Was sick. Was bad.”

“Baby, that’s not bad. Everyone gets sick, it’s okay.”

Phantom shakes his head with a whimper. “No. No, it’s bad. I was bad.” Phantom tugs on his hair, thrilling in distress. “Now I’ll punished because of it.” He tugs even harder on his hair.

Dew grabs his hands gently pulling them away from his hair. “Don’t do that, darling, you’ll hurt yourself.” He places a kiss to each of his knuckles. “Why do you think you’ll get punished? Because you were sick?”

Phantom nods. “I always did when I was back at home. Back in the pit.” He lets out a pitiful sniff. “We always got Locked in a room and forgotten about until we weren’t sick anymore. I was sick a lot as a kit.”

“Oh you poor little puppy.” Dew brushes the hair from Phantom’s face, feeling his forehead as he does. He had a little fever but nothing that Dew is too concerned about. “You not feeling too good, pup?”

Phantom pouts leaning into Dew’s touch and shakes his head. Dew pouts back at him before moving so he’s sat against the headboard, pulling Phantom into his lap and wrapping the covers around him. Phantom winces as he’s moved and runs at the lower part of his belly.

Once he’s settles into Dew’s lap he buries his head into his neck, nosing along his scent gland with a purr. Dew brushes Phantom’s hand out of the way, replacing it with the overly warm hand of his own.

“You got a poorly tummy, baby?” Dew rubs at his belly where Phantom’s hand had been.

Phantom nods into his neck with a sad little thrill. “Hurts.” He whispers.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry.” Dew continues to rub at his belly. “Do you think you’ll be sick again?”

Phantom sits up in a panic and shakes his head rapidly. “No! No, I promise I won’t. I’ll be good.”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay if you do, baby.” Dew runs his spare hand through Phantom’s hair. “Just tell me, okay? So I can get a bin or something so you don’t throw up on the floor again.”

Phantom looks a little unsure but he nods as he settles back into Dew’s neck. “You promise I won’t get in trouble?”

“I promise, darling.” Dew presses a kiss to the side of Phantom’s head. “It’s not your fault you’re sick and you’ll never get in trouble for something like that.”

Phantom lets out a little rumbly purr as the warmth from Dew’s hand helps soothe the pain on his belly.

“You wanna take a nap? Hopefully you’ll feel better after a nap and if you don’t we can get you some medicine from the infirmary.” Dew kisses his head again.

Phantom nods and buries his face deeper into Dew’s neck. Dew pulls the covers up higher so just his and Phantom’s heads can be seen from over the top. “Get some sleep, little bug.”

Phantom lets out a very sleepy chirp as his eyes begin to slip closed, the warmth from Dew killing him into a comfortable sleep.

#the band ghost #ficlet #dewdrop ghoul #phantom ghoul #my writing

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utilitycaster · 9 months ago

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In the end, it is misogyny but in the form of that Imogen (and most of the female cast, if we are being fair) gets reduced to just being a woman to the point that criticizing any real flaw, wrong doing, or "hey i personally maybe perhaps don't like that she did this" is turned into an attack on her because she is a woman, because after all, all women are perfect and so so dainty they must be protected (sarcasm)

Without mentioning the attacking real women in the name of the fictional one

It really is the "God forbid a woman do anything" but in it's worst form

Sorry for venting, been having thoughts about the fandom for the past 5 years

YUP. I do recommend Unlikeable Female Characters by Anna Bogutskaya which I devoured in like, one sitting over my winter break and posted a bunch of excerpts from but this discourse is extremely not limited to the CR fandom. I mean, think about all of the endlessly churning nonsense about the women of Gone Girl and Midsommar. I am going to see Love Lies Bleeding tomorrow and have steered well clear of really any discussion because I simply would like to see buff lesbians in a crime drama but apparently the discourse is rancid.

Of course there are people who assume ill of female characters while excusing men. That is absolutely a big problem. But again, we can barely talk about that. I recently made a post about how Laura is not a particularly chaotic player, and indeed is one of the most cautious players in actual play, and again I think there is a serious and important conversation to be had about how there's probably a reason why, say, Travis and Taliesin are more likely to make extremely bold moves, because they didn't get raked over the coals during C1 for stealing a cool broom from a guest character! I actually think Marisha has managed to hang on to some of her boldness and it makes her a stronger player but I would not have been surprised if she retreated after the hate she got from Keyleth. But yeah, in actual play, bold moves are pretty important. We can't even talk about how real-world misogyny holds back the actual actors without some moronic wretch being like "FIGURES THAT A MISOGYNIST CUNT LIKE YOU LIKES A MALE ACTOR."

When a character who is a man - or in some cases, characters who are not men but are played by men - does something people don't like we can say "wow, I didn't like this, but it was an interesting choice by the actor!" but we aren't allowed to either talk about the reasons why a real world woman might hesitate to play a character who does ugly things - because of the misogynistic backlash that will land specifically on her as a real person - nor can we compliment her for going for it and playing a complex flawed character, because how DARE you say a woman is anything less than some kind of Divine Feminine ideal. At best you're allowed a two-dimensional caricature of She's So Sweet And Good But Sometimes Gets Angry (this also happened to my friend Keyleth).

And this might reveal my own biases but like. I as a woman don't love being called self-centered, but that, personally, would probably lead me to some reflection. If you call me a girlfailure, even jokingly, I am going to break your nose. It's really telling that like...one of the absolute no-brainer "hey stop calling grown women girls" feminist tenets has gone by the wayside particularly with the set of people who think that meta that fails to put women on so high a pedestal they are untouchable is misogynist. They are awful towards women, fictional and real.

A line that always stuck with me from, bizarrely, a book about wordplay, was that Victorian men would treat women of their same classes as their superiors, but never their equals - they would coddle them and protect them but they wouldn't actually engage with their thoughts and foibles. (This happened to my friend Jester).

Anyway my personal solution is to keep going. On some level, as my previous post indicates, while I don't want the harassment it also only underscores my point, that a lot of these people are way more invested in being a dick to women on the internet than writing meta about the pretend women they think they like. I have to imagine they're doing this because either think they're entitled to meta they like from people who can actually fucking write it because god knows most of the people making this complaint have the most "if you can't dazzle them with brillance, blind them with the most purple-prose bullshit you can muster" attitude; or because they literally are just champing at the bit to attack women online with the ostensible veneer of "but it's FEMINIST to call THESE women cunts because they said my blorbo wasn't saintly and flawless." However, again, I know that I'm pretty bullheaded and forcibly unlearned the uh, patriarchal idea that women should not be confrontational. I do not blame people who look at this whole situation and say "I'm going to keep my thoughts to myself because this is so unpleasant."

#answered #Anonymous #i got a ghost message too that i only assume is for the same reason as my previous anon #and like. ngl. i'm THIS close to naming suspected names. like i have tried to keep quiet but *rashinna voice* can we take out the trash #i'd love to see more meta about imogen but again i don't blame the people who are like nope not worth it.#cr tag

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plusvanity · 2 months ago

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Sorry but Jan being seen as a non rat by Varg and getting overall along is crazy work to me 😵‍💫I am inclined to belive that he shares his ideology and iirc Varg questioned his ancestry to which Jan gets defensive and says he is indeed norwegian and I know for a fact that Varg does not belive at all lmaooo

I don't see it was crazy, but rather expected considering some of the similarities between the two, but I get it that it's weird when Varg's ideologies and the people who he seemingly 'approves' (for the lack of a better term) collide in an obviously contradictory way.

Jan is Norwegian for being born and raised in Norway. His citizenship is practically Norwegian. All I am aware of is that there are speculations that he might be half-Moroccan. I don't know if it's a fact or not, so don't quote me on this.

If he gets defensive, it's probably because he doesn't like to be teased about it. I don't know if it has something to do with his political ideology and how he himself wouldn't 'check his own box' so to speak, but it might as well be just that.

Why I believe that Varg 'protects' Jan's image is (to a certain degree) the same reason why he protects Fenriz's image.

If anymore ever happened to agree with Varg on something, to get along due to their similarities even for a short period of time, he will remember that and use this to his advantage in a way to make him seem like he was 'part of the group' and that people had the same opinions as him for all of this time.

What he insinuated in his videos about Jan was 'oh, but Jan hated Øystein too. (It wasn't just me!)'. And he uses this to create this pseudo-scenario in which he normalizes his rancid hatred. 'Everyone hated Øystein, this was nothing new (It wasn't just me!)'.

He knows Jan is not fond of Øystein, nor bothered to make any elaborate public declaration about what he stands for politically or whatever, so he takes advantage of this 'lazy silence' to push his own narrative.

#ask response #jan axel blomberg #øystein aarseth #varg vikernes

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ailithnight · 2 years ago

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After this chapter, I will no longer be doing a taglist. Sorry folks, there's just too many of y'all and I'm on mobile. Please subscribe on AO3 for updates, or follow the tag A King in Arkham.

A King in Arkham

Chapter 4

AO3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Danny. I understand you don't want to go with your godfather. Is there a reason for that?

Can't go with Vlad!

If you know something we don't about him, you need to tell us. Otherwise he will win custody.

It's.. He'll.. he'll make me.. turn me.. his fault!

What's his fault, Danny?

His fault. All his. All.. My.. no, my fault. It's all my fault...

Danny?

IT'S MY FAULT! I KILLED THEM! ALL DEAD! Because of me...

Now Danny, I'm sure that's not true. What happened at the Nasty Burger-

I made it happen.

Corporate negligence-

He knew. I knew. Dan knew what would happen. Dan made it happen. He knew the sauce was gonna blow. He knew Lancer would arrange the meeting there. He cheated. He lured them there. He bound them up so they couldn't escape and ran the time out until they exploded! Dan did that and Dan was me, so I did that.

Daniel...?

I murdered them. I murdered everyone.

Da-

IT'S ALL MY FAU- *static*

Tim started talking after the audio cut to static.

"What you just heard is the last, partially recovered therapy session of Danny's in Chicago. The cameras were beyond salvaging. No one except Danny knows what happened after the audio cuts. What is known is that nearby witnesses heard what they claim sounded like a 'screaming moan' coming from the therapy room. When doctors and staff went to check; the therapist Mrs. Alders was slumped against the wall, appearing to have been forcefully pushed, with minor head trauma. Danny was curled up on the other side of the room, panicking and muttering about a Dan.

While Mrs. Alders mostly recovered from the incident, she does not know how she ended up slammed against the wall. Once this audio was recovered, it was turned over to the police. Given the severity of the... confession... in conjunction with the apparent assault, the courts decided to move Danny to an asylum for the criminally insane." Tim paused in the debrief, letting the information sink in. After a moment, Duke raised his hand. Jason scoffed at the action.

"This ain't kindergarten kid, say your bit."

"I just, that explains why an asylum in general. But why Arkham?" Tim nodded, pulling up a picture of a document.

"Kid's godfather, business tycoon and multimillionaire, Vlad Masters. Insisted that if his godson should have to go to an asylum, he'll go to the- and I quote- 'Best in the country.' Made a deal with the state that he'll foot the bill while he continues fighting for custody. Apparently didn't do his research enough to know that 'Best Known' and 'Best' are not the same." Bruce had the next question.

"So, Master's doesn't have custody yet?"

"Nope." Tim popped his 'p', pulling up more documents. Investigative reports. "Given Danny's reactions to him, CPS started investigating. Found a lot of shady shit. Narcissism, anger issues, control issues, coercion tactics.

One agent said he tried to bribe her with a rather large sum of money, which she might have taken if she wasn't well enough off from a family inheritance and mostly doing this work for the kids. Of course, same agent also said he had 'Rancid vibes' and 'tried to posses' her, but her 'Grammy's necklace protected her' so her credibility was deemed iffy.

Still, there's enough there that it's unlikely Masters will be able to gain custody any time soon. So if Gotham's favorite serial adopter with a good track record for helping troubled kids, Brucie Wayne, were to step in..." Tim's smirk is infectious and makes its way around the table. Bruce's lips twitch ver briefly into a fond smile, before dropping back into a frown.

"What do you make of the... confession?" Jason doesn't even try to hold in his groan.

"Seriously, B? It was survivor's guilt or some kind of psychotic episode or something." Damian frowns.

"I would not discredit him so quickly, Hood. After all, his ghosts are real apparently."

"Hnn." Bruce gets that look on his face. The almost constipated frown that means he is going to have to do something unpleasant like host a gala or attend a business meeting or, "I will have to call Constantine to verify what the entity we are dealing with is."

Jason lets out a gleeful snort. "Have fun with that one, B. In the mean time can I go break our kid out yet or what?"

"Actually, Hood," Jason turns a glare on Tim, who is once again holding his hands up placatingly. "That still leaves us with the issue of making him an escapee and you an accomplice."

"Well fuckin Brucie Wayne can't exactly just walk up to Arkham and ask if they've got any blue eyed black haired boys for him to adopt."

"Not exactly what I'm suggesting here." Batman sighs.

"What are you suggesting." Tim pulls out a case he had tucked under the desk, a truly devious smirk painted across his face.

"Just a little temporary theft. Only long enough to put the kid's face on the news for Brucie to stumble across." He opens the case, sliding it over to Jason. Inside, a replica of a relic from Tim's own past; resized to fit his bigger, broader brother. "You remember Red X, don't you?"

The green that had been tinting Jason's vision the whole meeting finally subsides, giving way to wicked mirth.

"Oh, hell yes."

Batman sighs.

"You don't get it do you? I'm still here. I still exist. That means you still turn into me."

Another night, another nightmare of a memory jolting Danny back into the waking world. His chest is tight, a high whine suppressing itself in the back of his throat. Danny's eyes dart around his room, searching for the shadowy void of his most frequent visitor. But Spectra isn't there tonight. She hasn't come back since she was seen by Banana Bat.

It's strange. Danny had gotten used to waking up with her there, towering over him, shadowy clawed hand resting somewhere on his body as she feasted on his misery. He didn't mind, really. He had plenty to give and she didn't even rough him up too bad. Just enough to keep the psyches concerned. The last 3 days without her presence had been... not lonely. Danny was already lonely. But emptier. Like the one good thing his continued existence was doing for someone had been ripped away.

Truly, Danny felt he had nothing left in this world. Nothing to give, nothing to gain. But he couldn't die. Couldn't unleash full ghost Phantom on the world again. That's what created Dan. No, this was what he had to give. All he had to give. To stay human so that Dan never becomes ghost. To live, as the least burden he could be, so that Dan never died.

Clockwork must have known what would happen if Danny fully died. That must be why he spared him. The Observants sentenced Danny to death. But Clockwork was smarter. He sentenced Danny to life. And really, it's such a small price to pay for the sins of his other self.

Despite what the others say, Arkham isn't hell. The only issue Danny's had was the clown and that's not really anyone's fault. It's just, Danny looked at the Joker and he saw Freakshow. And he saw that stupid staff. And he heard that grating laugh. And all he could think about was how that was the only thing that could still turn him into Dan. If the clown took control again. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't! Not becoming a Dan, not becoming a problem; that's all he could do now! He couldn't he couldn't he couldn't...

Danny was broken out of his spiraling thoughts by the now familiar buzzing echoing clanging sound of another break out. He closed his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. Then, suddenly, he was lifted up, hoisted onto someone's shoulders in a fireman's carry.

"Damn kid, do you weigh anything?"

Danny's eyes flew open, his body subconsciously tensed for a fight Danny wouldn't actually fight. The voice, clearly modulated, sounded high and breezy. His head turned to look at the person now forcefully evicting him from his room. Black body suit. White mask. Red slashes in a stylized X. Built like his Dad... Danny had no idea who this was.

For a moment, Danny felt a twinge of fear. He had no idea who this was. They obviously weren't with Arkham. They had just stolen him from his room and, holy shit they were flying now. No. Not flying, grappling. And running. Moving very fast towards the exit. With Danny. For unknown reasons.

Holy shit, someone was kidnapping a teenager from an insane asylum. That, probably wasn't good. Any normal or sane person would be scared for their health and wellbeing. But, well... Danny was hardly normal. And sane was becoming increasingly questionable.

And this guy, well he didn't trigger Danny's ghost sense. No chilly breath escaping his mouth. So he was human, not a ghost. It's not like a human could kill Danny. Not with his ghostly healing factor. Sure, they could make his life a living hell. Beat him, violate him, enslave him. But a human couldn't turn him into Dan so... Danny doesn't think he really cares.

"Um, why are you carrying me?"

"Taking you out of here."

"Clearly, I meant why?"

"Owe someone a favor." That was mildly concerning. Danny could think of one person who would stoop to this.

"Did Vlad send you?"

"Master's? Nope. He couldn't afford my services."

"Oh. Okay." As long as it wasn't Vlad. They were almost to the main gate now. There was screaming behind them, now. Danny loomed behind them as the person grappled up the wall and vaulted them over. Danny caught the barest glimpse of the twink in a burlap sack mask striding out the door, leaving a noxious cloud in his wake.

Then they're gone, grappling to then moving across rooftops. It's not a bad feeling. Kinda fun even. Flying as a ghost was nice. Really nice. But different from this. Gravity literally didn't touch you if you didn't want it too. But this? Danny could feel the pull of the earth, the force of every swing. Gravity was still there, exerting its influence, but they were defying it.

For a tiny moment, Danny felt the ghost of a smile on his lips. The good feeling was fleeting, like all his feelings these days. But it was there and it was enough to shock a small "Oh." from Danny.

"Oh what, runt?"

"Nothing, just. Never grappled before. S'nice."

"Oh." It was such a soft thing, Danny once more found himself pondering the intentions of his kidnapper.

"Do I get to know where we're going?"

"Safe house for the night. I'm your baby sitter."

"And tomorrow?"

"We'll see."

"...Okay."

The next morning, Vicki Vale stumbles across the story of her career (so far) sitting dazed and confused in her office. A prepubescent boy in an oversized Arkham uniform? The day after a breakout where Scarecrow and only one other inmate escaped? Oh this is bound to sell.

Okay, I know the show pretty heavily implies that Teen Titans Robin us Dick.

But

What if it was Tim?

#A King in Arkham #DP x DC #my writing #will taglist later #bedtime

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nekropsii · 9 months ago

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okay.

cronus hot anon back at it again.

i read your stuff and checked out as much of openbound as i could, and id like to formally retract my statement.

I fucking Dunning–Kruger effected myself. I didnt know he was that bad. I am so sorry for just coming to your house and being rancid on your furniture.

cronus is fucking horrible, jesus christ.

This is so funny. Here’s to hoping you feel better soon, lmao.

But also, this goes to help prove the long-running pet theory that most people who thinks Cronus is hot or are Into Him don’t actually know anything about him. If it makes you feel better, what just happened with you here is relatively common, I see people (especially younger people, like early-mid teens) get super into this guy, only to realize later through actually reading the Openbounds or something that he’s so fucking bad it’s triggering for them or something.

Half the time those kids’ll say they got into him because some older fans in their circle were batting hard for him and that just feels… Frightening…? Like a niche version of those older fans back in the day that would bat hard for Bro Strider to kids Dave’s age. Like, get the fuck out of there!!

Anyway- Glad you were willing to hear me out, anon. I sincerely hope you have a good day, despite this horrible little revelation you just had, lol.

#no more throwing tomatoes at anon they’re cool. we’re throwing flowers now #WOOOO 💐💐💐💐#nekro.sms

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ghxstlly · 7 months ago

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have Becker and Poole ever broken up then got back together?

The short answer? No!

The long answer...

---

Staring at Poole from across the room, Becker was almost stunned by how quickly the energy surrounding them had turned to ice, the words he’d carelessly spat out only moments earlier hanging in the air like rancid smoke.

Between them, it was almost as though time itself had stopped, the pair frozen on two sides of an invisible divide, their fight and the things they had said to each other suddenly feeling so pointless, so unimportant that Becker could barely remember what they’d been arguing about in the first place.

In that same instant, what had been frustration and indignance on Poole’s face had shattered into an almost childlike look of hurt, his posture visibly deflating as the fight bled out of him, and Becker knew, right then, that the argument was over.

“...You… What?” Poole’s voice, when he finally managed to speak, was barely above a timid whisper, fragile and choked with emotion. “You think… You think we should… s—separate?”

It was a painful, sobering feeling that struck Becker at that— a cold splash of guilt beyond comparison. Setting his jaw, he cursed under his breath, struggling to face the pain in his husband’s eyes, in that moment feeling like the absolute scum of the earth.

“I— I didn’t mean it like that,” He tried, unable to keep from sounding frustrated, defensive, even as his gut twisted into a hard knot. “I just— look, I’m fed up, Fred, I’m fed up with you not listening to a damn word I say, with us fighting all the time, and I want for us to stop and figure out how to get along again because otherwise we’re just gonna keep doing this over and over and over again. That’s all I was trying to say.”

Staring at him, his arms folded around himself almost protectively, Poole looked small, wounded, like he wanted to disappear into the floor. And for a long, fragile moment, he was completely silent, his gaze searching Becker’s face, before he suddenly sniffled, his eyes welling with tears.

“But… You said… Ira, is that really what you want?...” Swallowing thickly, Poole tried to blink back the tears, only for them to start to spill down his cheeks anyway. “D—Do you want us to split up?”

“No— damn it, come on—” Becker sighed, crossing the room and attempting to reach out, only for his husband to take a small step back, twisting away from his touch.

“It’s okay if you do,” Poole insisted, his voice wavering as he fought his hardest to keep his composure. “I mean— I—I don’t want you to be unhappy, so… I don’t mind… I don’t m—mind leaving—”

“Stop it—” Becker snapped, and quickly caught himself, running a hand over his face in an attempt to calm down, to find the right words, before he continued. “Don’t… say things like that. I’m not unhappy, and I sure as Hell don’t want a divorce. I just want you to listen, to meet me halfway for once, before this marriage ends up in the fucking ground and we start hating each other. Understand?”

Pausing, then, he found himself holding his breath, thrown by the confusing mix of painful emotions welling up inside of him as he watched Poole process his words, watched his lip quiver, his eyes glitter with fear, and, with an awkward, rough sigh, reached out again, this time succeeding in pulling his husband into his arms.

“...Alright, look, I’m… I’m s—… sorry.” He forced the word out, his voice sounding strained, the unfamiliarity of the apology making him feel awkward and uncomfortably vulnerable. “I lost my temper, okay? I lost it and said something stupid— some idiotic, asinine shit that I don’t mean. I don’t want to split up, not even for a night, much less forever, because even when you piss me off, I still… love you. You know that, and you know I wouldn’t have married you if I thought I could be happier without you. You’re my husband— my fucking everything. And I’m not about to let that change.”

Poole stayed silent.

In the long, tortuous moment that followed the apology, as though stunned, he was tense and still in Becker’s embrace, standing there taking in those words, as rare as they were from his husband, for a short eternity, a long period of agonizing nothing until at last he abruptly crumpled like a paper doll, sinking against Becker with a soft sob.

Wincing, Becker immediately lowered them both to the floor, gathering him against his chest in a tight, protective hold.

It had been a long time since he’d last heard Poole cry, and the sound of it now, small and pitiful, made his throat feel tight knowing that he had been the one to cause it.

“Ira, I—I… I don’t want to lose you…” He heard Poole weep into his shoulder, his hands trembling lightly where they clung onto the back of his shirt. “Please, I’m s—so scared of losing you…”

“You’re not going to. We’ll figure this out. We will.” Becker muttered almost bitterly, the words gruff and half-swallowed as he took a deep breath in a bid to extinguish another swell of frustrated guilt. “...Christ, Freddie— I hate seeing you like this.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, then, he tightened his hold and simply sat there, feeling sick to his stomach.

“You shouldn’t be crying over a fucking jackass like me.”

#inside out #inside out au #attorney au #they speak #wesperwrites

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somethingsomethingwords · 11 months ago

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Ok so, here is another one. This is a little bit different from what I usually write or even like reading, but alas, sometimes an idea just enters your brain and just doesn't leave. Also this one has a title ig. So here it is. I hope you'll like it. Enjoy 💜

Of course I wanted you to stay

(but you didn't, no you didn't, no you didn't)

Lance was so full of adrenaline he almost dropped the mic. He was shaking from head to toe, but there was a huge grin on his face.

There was no sadness, because even if this was the last concert of the tour, it had been one of his best ones like, ever.

Also he was home, so he knew that after all the crazy partying he would do tonight, tomorrow he'd meet his sister, he'd go to that bakery that sells the best cupcakes, and he'd be able to roam the streets with his thick glasses and ugly beanie and scarf combos, and no one would recognise him.

But still, that's tomorrow. In that moment, there was the encore.

It was always different, so it was always special, but that day even more so. It was composed of three of his older songs, about pain and heartache and moving on despite the past, maybe in spite of it. He loved it very much. Because he was home, singing his first hits and he was ending one of the happiest and saddest tours of his life.

It had started great, new album, in love and energetic. Then he was left behind, alone and with nothing to show for it. Because it had to stay a secret. He had to keep his love secret. He had had no one to complain to, because the only people who knew would have been put in an uncomfortable situation, and he didn't want that. So he hid his hurt and did what he always did. He put it in his music. He sang his pain until the only hurt he could feel was the one in his throat.

It really had been a rollercoaster. But now it was the end, everything was better, and he wanted to send a last fuck you. He may have matured, but nothing would make him lose his pettiness.

So he sang.

Are you sorry like you weren't at the time?

Loving you was easy,

that's why it hurts now

The worst way to love somebody

is to watch them love somebody else

and it works out now

And sang.

Cause someone loved me,

someone fucking loved me

Someone fucking loved me,

I loved him too

Goddamn it, I was worth something,

I fuckin' earned something

I have a right to die, a right to live,

a right to choose, too. And God, no!

Of course I don't wanna feel better!

Can you fucking imagine?!

And sang.

Because, in the end,

you can see how much I loved you

from the fact that I'm fine now

It's a lie, but I say it anyhow

He put every single emotion into these songs, and finally let them go.

When the crowd roared, it all exploded.

He felt a solitary tear wet his face, but nothing could have stolen his smile. He waited for his band, then bowed and left the stage.

The night was young and he was feeling free and wild. And quite hungry, actually.

So he took his band to his favourite pub. They ate, and drank, and ate some more.

On the taxi towards his house, Lance realised that, no matter how much it had hurt, he didn't regret having what he had with Fernando.

Even the tears, even the heartbreak, they all shaped the person he was today.

He liked to think he was loyal, and dependable and kind. But most importantly, he liked to think he was better than the person he was yesterday.

His house appeared, and after paying and tipping the taxi driver, he opened the door.

Yeah, it was big and a little bit empty and a little bit cold. A little bit like his heart. But it was something to be proud of, because it was his, and he was working on it.

---

The next day he really started to rethink all of this rock star thing.

His head pounded with his heartbeat and his mouth tasted rancid.

He got up and drank some water, downing a couple of aspirins for his headache.

After the shower he felt somewhat normal, and decided to go out for breakfast.

He reached his favourite bakery and ordered two pastries to go. He wanted to retreat and lay warmly in front of the fireplace.

Lance noticed him as soon as he stepped out, but he decided to ignore him. His house wasn't that far, he could reach it quickly and without having to talk to him. For once, he wanted to thank whoever made him with long legs.

But even if he could go fast without running, so could the other.

They walked in silence, side by side, for a few minutes.

When the silence and the presence were getting to him, he abruptly stopped and turned towards the other man.

"What do you want?"

Fernando didn't deserve kindness nor gentleness. He forfeited those when he left Lance. Via text. Without explanation and blocking him immediately after.

Lance had spent too many days crying; now he wanted nothing to do with the man.

"Hello Lance. Was just around" he said, as if it explained why he was in Canada and not in England, in Monaco, hell even at home in Spain.

Lance huffed and started moving again, having had more than enough, but stopped when he felt a firm grip on his wrist.

He stared at the hand on his arm with wide eyes, before raising them to Nando's face.

"You have three seconds to either take your hand off or have it broken" he said shakily.

There must have been something in his voice that made the threat a real one, because suddenly he was free again.

"Lance, am sor..." Nando started.

"Shut up before I make you. We can't discuss here, someone could recognise you. Come to my house" surely not his finest moment, but all Lance could feel was fury. Still, he wasn't raising his voice, so he could consider it a win.

you are still protecting him, Este's voice said in his mind.

shut up, of course I am, but what else could he do?

They arrived at his house. He quickly opened the door and closed it when Fernando got in.

"You have no right to come here with your flimsy excuse and expect me to be ok with it. Now, tell me what you want and get the hell out of my house" there, simple and direct.

For a moment, Fernando seemed seriously sorry. But Lance didn't care. He was the one left behind, the one who had to pick up his pieces when he fell apart. He healed as best as he could, and he would not apologise for building up his defences.

"Lance, I am really sorry, for what's worth. I want to explain"

"You are a few months too late. At this point, I don't even know if I care. I only ever asked one thing, Alonso. One. I was ok with being kept a secret, and avoiding being seen together, and the distance. I only asked you to openly communicate and shit like that. You just left without a word" now that he had started, he couldn't seem to stop.

"You knew, I told you why I wanted that. Why I needed you to be honest and open, yet you just disappeared. I had to ask Este, who had to ask Mick. And for what. To be told that you had a new model girlfriend? So no, Alonso, I don't care anymore. It would just reopen old wounds. Now go, I'm sure you have somewhere else to be"

and someone else to be with, it wasn't said but both could hear it.

"That's not right. I have nowhere to go. Am alone, Lance" he said, something hurt and teary in his voice.

Lance was about to replicate, sharp words already on the tip of his tongue, when something in Nando's expression made him stop. His eyes showed how open he was being, how vulnerable.

Lance sighed, and led the man into the living room, making him sit on the couch, while he went into the kitchen and brought back two glasses of water. He would have preferred something stronger, but this felt too important of a moment to have it tainted by alcohol and not being in the right mind.

He sat on the opposite side of the couch, and waited for the other to start talking.

"First of all, am sorry, really. I knew it would hurt you, how I left you, but I did it anyway. And I know you have no reason to believe me or care. Am here because I believe you deserve the truth about everything"

He seemed honest, but Lance wouldn't trust him so easily, not again.

"What are you hoping for with your confession months later, mh? I'm not going to obediently come back to you, waiting to be heartbroken again. You're not gonna fuck me and leave, either. So, what do you want?" he was probably being unfair to the other man, but anger and confusion had never been a good mix of emotions for him.

"Lance, I would never..."

"Like you would never leave, Alonso? Don't make promises you can't keep and don't say things you don't mean" he interrupted, harsh and stubborn.

"You are right. I made promises and then I broke them and betrayed your trust. But I need you to know I had reasons. Not perfect, not good, but I had them" and goddamnit, Lance could feel himself beginning to soften.

just listen to him, said his conscience, suspiciously sounding like Mick.

"Would you care to explain them?" Was he being sarcastic or curious? He himself didn't know.

"Of course. Someone was starting to notice some...changes in me. I was happier, nicer, smiled more. Someone I don't like said something in a way I didn't like. Made me understand that he knew something was up, and would ruin me. So I decided that I needed to protect myself, to protect you. Left you because I couldn't see you. I knew I'm not strong enough to leave you if I saw you"

It all sounded logical, from a certain point of view, but Lance knew there was more, so he waited for the other to continue.

After a few seconds, Fernando raised his eyes, looking at Lance, before turning them down again.

"I didn't like the weakness. All the time, I was thinking about you, wanted you near. It was too much. So I thought I could just stay away, and forget about it"

about you, was left unsaid.

"And can you? Forget about it?" Lance not only wanted to know. He needed to, before going on with the conversation. He could feel his hands beginning to shake and his eyes starting to water, but he had to be sure.

Fernando immediately raised his eyes, and spoke with a tone determined and something like hope in his eyes.

"Of course I can't. I'm here right now, begging for a second chance" he said pleadingly.

"Then beg" Lance said, not meanly, but he also wasn't feeling particularly charitable, and it was better to make some things clear from the beginning: he wasn't going to repeat the same mistakes. He wasn't the young man staring at his teen crush, starry eyed and in love and grateful for every scrap of attention and affection. He was older, maybe a little bit more bitter, a little bit wiser. Fernando left some marks onto his heart, and he wasn't going to refresh them for nothing less than certainty.

"Lance, please give me another chance. I know I fucked up, was so wrong. I'm begging you, let me fix this. However long it takes, is ok. Just, tell me you'll think about forgiving me, and starting again" he was being so earnest, how could Lance resist?

"Even if I forgive you, and it's a big if, I'm not going to forget anytime soon, ok? I'll need time and space and for you to make an effort" he really was weak for this man, but who could blame him, he spent half his childhood idolizing him and then he met him and fell in love.

"Will do whatever it takes. But let me, please"

Realising all the air stuck in his lungs, Lance sighed.

"Ok"

He didn't even finish the word that Fernando picked him up and spun Lance around, making him laugh despite himself.

Fernando finally put him down, and took his hand to kiss it, maintaining the eye contact for a few seconds.

Lance could feel himself blushing, and quickly shook his head, still smiling.

After a few seconds of just getting reacquainted with one another, Fernando broke the silence.

"I liked the show yesterday. Especially the encore"

And now Lance was definitely blushing. His encore had been designed as a way of finally letting go, one last screw you to the man now in front of him. But he couldn't say that to him, even if it was pretty clear.

It would have been childish to throw shades at Fernando in one of his concerts, no?

"Yeah, I was inspired, I guess" his smile smaller but still there.

"Fuck the guy who made you suffer, the bastard" and in his jokingly way, Nando was telling him that he wasn't angry, and that they would be ok.

"Yeah, fuck him"

#lance stroll #fernando alonso #strollonso #grumpy cat boy x besotted old man #this old man is down bad #the boy isnt any better but at least he tries hiding it #this is a popstar au ig #also my very first #song fic #if u'r interested the songs are #body better by Maisie Peters #Feel better by Penelope Scott #and for my italian entry #Occhi grigi di Fulminacci feat Giovanni Truppi #roughly traslated by me #go liten to all these artists obviously #also also #the title is from Villain by Maisie Peters

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