#always fucking nasty in my google docs

[mamayan]

don’t think i didn’t see this yannie

you know what you have to do now

shiggy step on us with his big feet

This is my third time writing this because Tumblr has eaten my work twice. I will actually slaughter the entity that is tumblr, pull it’s intestines out and use them as a fucking jump rope, if I lose it for a third time. This time I didn’t delete my work on Google doc once I “saved” it to Tumblr. Enjoy some Shiggy nastiness babe♥️ 

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

tw: All of them NONCON • DUBCON • Rough Sex • Anal Fingering • Degradation • Humiliation • Breath Play (noncon)

You knew better.

In all the time you’ve known him, you knew better than always show your true feelings.

For the most part it hardly mattered, it was second nature not to flinch at the death and destruction he left behind him.

It was the little things which got you. The mundane and unimportant. It was the times he’d let you completely relax, to feel utterly safe and content, that you’d slip up.

He’d been playing video games for the last few hours while you’d been reading. Mindlessly flipping pages and switching between dreams and wakefulness. Wearing his shirt and only a plain pair of underwear, you were content to laze about the day as he was.

You didn’t notice a set of dull garnet eyes soaking you up. The sight of you made his skin itch and teeth ache. On his bed. In his clothes. Reading a graphic novel he recommended.

You were a pretty picture, even to his delusional standards.

This was Tomura though, so his show of love could never be conventional. At best, mildly annoying and at worst, horrendously violent.

You weren’t prepared for a socked foot to nudge your cheek, the scent of sour sweat and mildew entering your nose and causing your face to scrunch up as your stomach recoiled. You nearly threw up, the thought of feet and the smell enough to have you panicking and losing yourself for just a moment as you flinched away.

“That’s fucking gross Tomu—,” it was too late to redact that statement dripping with revulsion.

Too late to stop the dawning of this new information from his calculating mind. Too late when his face showed surprise, only to be followed by a grotesque smile that had your insides curling for a different reason. It was too late to run when his hand gripped your wrist just as you’d moved to throw yourself off the bed.

“Fucking gross?” You winced at his grating tone, his lip splitting grin speaking only of evil intentions as his eyes crinkled unnaturally around the edges. “You think I’m gross?”

“N-no that’s not what I meant—,” he cut you off with a laugh, the sound reverberating around the room. It was rolling and filled with dark amusement.

“Then what did you mean princess? Hm?” You were shaking. It was obvious nothing good was coming, his saccharine tone as he called you princess telling of the nightmare sure to follow. You couldn’t pull out of his grip, the strength he’d placed initially only growing as the seconds tickled by, becoming painful as you jerked. “Got nothing to say?” He chuckles, his gleeful face not matching the cruel intensity of his actions.

He’s doesn’t hesitate to nearly dislocate your shoulder as he throws you to the floor, blue strands of hair falling into his vision as he stomps down on your chest when you attempt to get up.

It didn’t matter you were crying now.

If anything it seemed to spur him on, as he palmed his hardening cock through his sweatpants.

“Common princess, you didn’t really think I’d let this go, did you? I asked you a fucking question.” You gasp in pain as he increases the pressure on your sternum, air becoming difficult when you couldn’t expand your lungs to drag any oxygen in. Crystalline tears pooled in your eyes, dotting your lashes as you pathetically struggled beneath his foot, trying to grip his ankle and remove the pressure.

“N-no—,” you could hardly breathe and the panic seeping into your system made answering or even thinking difficult.

He let up, lifting his foot as you rolled to your side and gasped for air like a fish out of water. The burning in your lungs ebbing but a dull ache remaining as you coughed and sputtered.

He was hardly done with you.

Easily slipping from his socks, he snickered in amusement as he kicked you over to your stomach, foot digging into your shoulder blades as you whine in protest.

“What? Not going to call my feet gross again? They’re all over you now slut.” He rolls his eyes as you whimper out a stuttered apology.

It’s too late for that now.

Dropping to his knees, he easily grips your hips and lifts your ass into the air.

He was going to show a little mercy, but when you tried to push your chest up too, he easily lifted his left foot and smashed your pretty face into the carpet with it.

“Ngh!” Your cry of surprise and pain only making him giggle as he yanks your underwear down to the middle of your thighs. Enjoying the way his shirt on you slides up to your chest and gives him a nice view of the underside of your breasts and soft stomach.

Tomura doesn’t hesitate to land a sharp slap to your now exposed cunt, licking his chapped lips as the wetness clinging to his fingers when he pulls away. Your cry and jolt of shock only furthering his rough treatment with you, as he meanly shoves two dry and bony fingers inside you.

“Tomu—!” you can only dig your fingers into the carpet and try to breathe, because the foot on your head hurts. His toes already tangled in your hair and tearing strands out as he shifts to work you open.

He’s not looking to get you off. When his fingers are sufficiently wet enough for his standards, he happily drags them out of your tight warm walls and up to your puckered asshole.

“Please—,” you can hardly see through the tears, but when the pressure on your head increases you’re forced to relax as he shoves both into your ass.

“Shut up!” He all but snarls, furious at having his fun interrupted by your stupid whining.

“You act like you don’t like my fucking feet, but you’re really just a dirty whore who fucking loves this, aren’t you?” He spreads his fingers, lighting up all your pain censors as he leans over to spit in the small gap he made, before fucking it into you quick and fast.

“Hurts!” Your hiss of pain through gritted teeth is ignored as he lifts his foot off your face, letting your turn your head enough for fresh air and a sigh of relief as he removes his fingers too.

You don’t see him stand, but when your back is forced to arch further with a hand in the middle of it, you cringe as you hear the sound of rustling clothes.

Tomura drops his pants enough to free his cock, rutting into his palm and roughly jerking himself before lining up with your cunt.

“You say it hurts but this cunt is dripping isn’t it slut?” He sneers, keeping you pinned and laughing at your scrunched up features. Your pretty cheeks wet and puffy, snot and tears covering you along with your sweat making strands of hair stick to your forehead.

He hunches over you again, moving one hand back to your hip and swinging his leg around to smash his foot against your face now, snorting in laughter at your cry of outrage. Your cheek burns, your tears and the carpet rubbing your skin raw as you feel his thick tip begin to push into your pussy.

You weren’t actually wet enough despite his words, the stretch and sting bringing a fresh wave of tears as you sob out loud now.

“M’sorry Tomu’ please, hurts, please—,” your begging does nothing but make him shove deeper faster, trying to jam his cock into your tight hole despite the resistance of your clenching walls.

“Fucking relax, or I’ll fuck your ass,” his threat only served to further frighten you, bearing down almost painfully on him.

His moan of pleasure is your only comfort. “So fucking tight,” his hips jerk, rocking unevenly inside of you, before finally having mercy and letting his spit slick you up a little more. The rough skin of his foot slips a little on your tears, moving his toes closer to your mouth and nose as he loses himself to his own pleasure.

You’re left helpless and weighed down as he essentially uses your face and hips as leverage to fuck harder down into you.

As it gets harder to keep himself up, he drops to one knee and bears down more weight on you. You struggle to breathe or even think as his cock works to open you, balls slapping against your clit in a steady rhythm.

“That’s it slut, you like this don’t you princess? You gonna cum with my gross fucking feet in your mouth? Haha!” He’s delirious in pleasure as he fucks you, hips slamming

His disgusting untrimmed toenails digging into the soft skin of your lips as your tongue hangs out in pleasure, his face giddy looking at your fucked out expression with his foot on it.

“That’s it bitch, I knew you’d like this,” his gaze dark as he watches you, letting his toes wiggle into your mouth and grunting as your core tightens. “This cunt likes it at least,” he grunts, feeling his balls draw tight as he gasps and works his hips faster.

“Go ahead and cum princess, with my filthy fucking feet in your mouth like the slut you are, hah, fuck yes, that’s it,” you couldn’t stop your orgasm even if you wanted to, crying out around his dirty toes as your body convulses beneath him.

He fills your pussy moments later, moaning loudly as his cock twitches and spills inside. Panting heavily as he catches his breath, Tomura’s eyes crack open to stare down at you.

He removes his foot to reveal your messy appearance, too exhausted at this point to do much else but lay pliant below him. Your lip is split, eyes blurry and unfocused, with cheeks stained in drying salty tears.

Tomura chuckles as he pulls out, watching your pussy twitch and push all his warm cum out and down your shaking thighs.

He stuffs his half hard cock back into his sweats he pulls up, standing and stretching his sore side.

“Look who’s fucking gross now bitch,” he grins, digging his phone out of his pocket and snapping a couple pictures, the flash blinding you for a moment.

He intended to set it as his new screensaver.

[kamakrazeeee]

slit headcanons (with a good sprinkling of slit/nux hc as well)

(from me little google doc that is getting longer and longer the more my brain rots about mad max)

is around 28 during Fury Road; is about 5 years older than nux

did not have a name until he was a preteen pup (i hc that most pups don't have a name until they choose one for themselves, and bc of slit's volatile nature, he was referred to oftentimes as ‘mutt’ instead of pup). he was becoming aware of the fact that war boys aren't anything unless they have something to make them different, to make them identifiable. when he slit his cheek open with a glass shard at age 12, from then-on he was referred to as “Slit-Mouth” and soon after it was shortened to “Slit”

slit meets nux when he is about 13. when slit is officially initiated as a war boy (i assume they officially become war boys when they reach 17 or 18), they don't see each other again until nux is also initiated.

slit has always been rather annoyed at/jealous of how fast nux learns things, and how everyone admires him for it. slit learns things quite fast, too, but being a lancer is not nearly as shine as being a driver.

when nux becomes a war boy and is made a driver, his first pick for lancer is slit. slit had a hard time keeping drivers, most of them either not being good enough for him or their chemistry failing horribly. slit and nux, with a few bumps, worked flawlessly.

he teases nux about many things and can be straight up mean to him at times. however, when he realizes he may have gone too far, he makes up for it in his own ways, which usually just involves him bringing nux small trinkets or giving him his own cola ration (or soothes nux by simply holding him a bit tighter at night). he will never utter the words ‘sorry’ unless he's under the influence of some bad rotgut or on his death bed.

slit is quite popular among the war boys, kind of like a cool kid that a lot of boys are intimidated by (for good reason, he's a nasty prick and tough as hell!)

slit is known as a vicious fighter and not someone to pick fights with. the stapled scars on his body show just how little fucks he gives about being hurt in combat.

when he starts losing vision in his right eye, he gets more irritable and moody. once he learns how to live and lance with this new impairment, he eventually returns back to normal, but gets in a mood when the occasional headache comes knocking

though he is loyal, he's not particularly the most religious war boy. he'll pray when he's asked to, and believes in the word of the immortan, but he's not super keen on obeying every little commandment. he's a bit more pragmatic in that sense, realizing at an earlier age that they all worship a man who doesn't even know who they are.

can be quite promiscuous, but only until he finally bunks up with nux and “commits” to him

when nux’s grease rag becomes so ratty and full of holes that it is basically useless, slit gives him his old red scarf to replace it. he won't admit it, but it makes him feel something real soft when he notices how delicate nux is with it, making sure it is kept clean when he's not using it for black thumb work.

likes watching nux work on cars, and has learned a lot from him, even though he tells nux how boring it is.

his second mouth slit comes to be when he becomes a war boy. this time he uses a real knife, and cuts through his cheek nearly all the way to his ear. though he's able to stitch up some parts, he has to use a stapler to keep the more gaping parts together. it's horrifying and it's painful, but man did he love hearing his brothers cheer and shout and hype him up as he did it

absolutely loves the heat. if he was able to, he'd probably be as tan as an Imperator, sprawled out on the hoods of cars and scorching hot rocks

will sometimes skip meals just to avoid “getting fat and happy,” which just means he doesn't want to rely on it more than he absolutely has to

was absolutely enraged when he and nux were not allowed to join the forces for the 40-Day War, blames nux for it since nux was still a younger war boy at that point (a recent initiate), assuming that the gap between the 40-Day War and the events of Fury Road is about 4-5 years

slit loves teasing nux for his dreams of driving a war rig, but can't help daydreaming about being a lancer on nux’s imaginary war rig

though he's very popular, most war boys ignore it when he's being the #1 Hater. it's just bad vibes!

he's the one who decorates nux’s coupe, so it has ✨personality✨

doesn't like war pups, but can't help feeling a lil soft when he sees nux interacting with them

likes to shave nux’s hair when it starts coming back in. just likes grooming and cleaning him in general. ❤️

has carried nux to the organic mechanic so many times in the middle of the night. he acts annoyed and frustrated every time, but does it anyway, every single time. will sometimes sleep in the blood shed with him.

[weatheredlaw]

what i liked about rvb: restoration (spoilers ahead)

okay i've spent a lot of time complaining to some friends today about what i didn't like about restoration, so i'm going to tell all of YOU what i did like, because i don't like to inundate myself with negativity!

Caboose

as a caboose fan, as a caboose girlie, as someone who has written a bunch of caboose fic - i fucking stayed winning last night. burnie keeping caboose knowing how to speak spanish was excellent. caboose was treated so well, he really wasn't the butt of a joke (the bit about epsilon programming in the "shut up caboose" lines was very funny to me, it's peak church and caboose and the fact that they came out and weird times was so so funny)

follow-up caboose point: i LOVE that he's too unpredictable for epsilon, it's truly caboose in a nutshell. and he was treated as capable and able to do things. he was also so GOOD. i'm absolutely not over this and i probably never will be:

caboose deciding to bring back tex because he wanted them to win? flawless. no notes. excellent.

Grimmons

i knew as soon as it was announced that burnie was writing this season that we were not going to get the grimmons ending of our dreams (yes i saw that google drive, yes it haunts me forever) but this isn't about what we didn't get

it's been 21 years since "why are we here" and i loved the shots of the two of them standing together. it always feels right when they're a pair, no matter what's happening.

i'm going to take what i got and write the fix it fic later. simmons gave grif what he always wanted - a way out. he gave him those papers, he said "here, you can leave, no strings attached" and the almost first words out of grif's mouth were: "come with me." it's romance, to me. i'll take it.

willing to go out in a blaze of glory together. say no more.

Sarge

i really wasn't sure if this was going to be a joke or not when it started happening. meta!tucker pulled out his sword and sarge was too close to the door and i said outloud GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR and damn

i know it was SUPER cheesy, but i was a fan of the sarge-grif interaction there at the end. sarge's animosity for grif has always been played up for laughs, but the last few seasons (retconned simulations or not) really strengthened red team. and the chorus trilogy did, too.

man i loved these lines:

(this shot makes me miss donut so bad but this is about what i liked, not what bothered me so please take this shot of sarge and the boys)

also sarge going back for caboose was so so so so good to me. "one of us" - yeah man, caboose is one of your boys. you gotta go BACK for your BOY. and he fucking did. i really wasn't sure if this death was going to stick, it got me pretty hard. (he didn't HERK-BLEH so idk if it counts but)

Tucker/Sigma

META!TUCKER RULES

conceptually, i fucking love this. i think it would have been nicer to get a bit more pre!meta tucker and see what was going on. his absence is handwaved a bit but if i'm able to remove seasons 15-18 from my brain, i'm able to focus more and say yes, ok.

i do have questions, like what was he acting like? did he do anything strange? did he disappear RIGHT away or did he linger and then go? it seems like wash doesn't know, and i think if wash knew tucker was the meta, he'd have been a lot more concerned (the bit at the end with wash and doc and tucker being taken care of was nice)

but i'm OBSESSED with this idea that tucker's stuck in there and he doesn't want to be there. really genuinely i love sigma and how nasty that little shit is. it's interesting that epsilon has the memories, but sigma still knows EXACTLY what the director did to the alpha and, even while it hates him for that, it's completely willing to use that on another person:

and THIS PART:

ugh MY BOY. it was nice to have tucker back, i was sad we had to see him like this and i wish we had more time with this concept, it's very delicious and it's one thing i do LIKE about the later seasons being retconned.

Wash and Doc

okay so i had to go back and watch some of the last episode of season 13 to understand this better, because i hadn't watched season 13 in a REALLY long time. once my memory was jogged i understood what was happening better. to recap, if you're like me and forgot:

wash and carolina were on the evac ship headed towards the reds and blues. after they win their fight post-epsilon death, it seems that the evac goes wrong and wash is injured. in that scuffle, doc dies getting wash to safety. this seems to be a breaking point for wash and doc manifests as a hallucination that Dr. Grey seems to be aware of. she never address that it IS doc, but she (and ADMIRAL FUCKING DONUT OK) are aware wash isn't doing well.

this was something i saw on reddit - doc being dead was foreshadowed pretty well! here's the image from the reddit page:

one shadow! i'm sure a lot of y'all saw this but i was busy thinking wash didn't sound like shannon mccormick (it was him! he just isn't talking about the show online really it seems - i haven't checked his tumblr for a while, but he's p much silent on twitter, i assume he came back after some negotiation because he and RT no longer work together, even before RT was dissolved)

EDIT: upon rewatching this it appears to move WITH doc but i do LIKE the one shadow thing so i'm gonna stick with this

also doc disappears from frame whenever other people are talking. no one ever addresses him, and i assume because he says doc's name while talking about the meta, Dr. Grey is like ah yep he's hallucinating again.

upon first viewing i thought this was a little rushed, and i still believe it was kinda shoved in there at the end, but after sitting with it and doing a little season 13 refresher, i actually really like this and i think it's very bittersweet. wash doing his best to cope with his guilt and thinking about the person who saved him and having them live on like this is incredibly hard, but it also feels incredibly REAL for his specific history and trauma

Other things

carolina coming when wash calls for her

wash BREAKING HIS LEG to call his best friend like dude wtf

simmons still wanting to save tucker, knowing he isn't the one who killed sarge

the work from home security guards. it's funny. it's really funny.

"i hate the future"

sitting around the fire and remembering! i cried! THIS SHOW AND I GREW UP TOGETHER

the trocadero song. it fucking got me.

tex and carolina fighting the meta. just. bad ass.

the framed photo of wash's cat

the AI's bickering in tucker's head. theta saying "he's tired and scared." delta comforting theta.

geoff really delivered grif's lines. they were SO unhinged i loved them.

speaking of VA's - michael malconian! honestly i was so worried when joel was fired that we were going to lose caboose forever. it made me SO sad to think about, but when they started making some PSA's and kind of made some jokes about the voice change (and in restoration!) i was much more hopeful. i really think he did a SUPER good job capturing caboose. my favorite scene in red vs blue is caboose saying goodbye to church in season 15 - and i think my second is now michael's delivery of caboose telling tucker he's already forgiven him if he decides to kill him. he just totally knocked it out of the park.

and just speaking of...him.

there's a lot i wasn't happy with, and i guess i could make a list about that, too. i feel like it's a lot of things y'all probably weren't happy with either, but this is what i DID love. and i think there's some more i'm just not remembering and i think i will come to really love this. someone already said it best imo: it was good enough and that's ok. i grew up with this show, seeing it end was incredibly emotional for me, but it feels right to say goodbye.

bow chicka bye now.

[cherry-bloooom]

HI THEREEE this is my first oc story that im gonna post here teehee! originally wrote in a notebook as like a rough draft then perfected it in google docs and it took me like 2 days to do so/ ~4 or 5 hours.. rough draft was written all in one sitting tho LOL took around 2 hours.

this is abt my oc percy being an asshole to his girlfriend at the time, michelle, my other oc, and him being a huge nasty slob. that’s kinda it. takes place around 2016/2017.

CONTENT WARNINGS IF U NEED IT:

alcohol/drinking, drugs, dv, rape/coercion, nsfw, slight mention of homophobia technically?? it’s literally one sentence. fortnite /j

ok hope u like it hehe love u bye click read more now to read…

Percy’s Perspective thing… idk what to call it

word count: 6.1k

I came home from a long morning of running around town taking care of errands. Rubin’s birthday is coming up soon, so my parents made me come over to their place for brunch to help them make plans for him, figure out what to get him. Right after I left, I had to grab something to eat. I was starving even though I’d just gotten done eating with my parents. I stopped at the ghetto McDonald’s me and Michelle go to. Every time we go, she complains about it, but we always end up going anyway. I came home right after that but was so mentally exhausted from being out, I couldn’t help but just lay on the couch.

Michelle was at work, like she always is around this time. I feel she works too much. She comes home stressed out nearly every day, and it never fails to ruin our night in together (never out, because she’s too stressed to even go out of the house). I try to have nice, romantic nights with her, but it seems she wants no part of it when I make an effort. It feels like she’s always resisting, for some reason. Things used to be so different between us. We always had great nights when she got off work, even when she got home late or tired or stressed, and things would be perfectly fine. But lately, she’s just been so distant and moody all the time. We’re always arguing over the little things, like when she accuses me of leaving the apartment a mess, or that I don’t help her out with anything. I feel like those criticisms are a bit undeserved. She has no idea what I do when she’s at work all day, and how stressful it can be sometimes. Like, for example, she knows how much I hate my parents, but it seems like every other day I have to spend money on an Uber to get to their house fifteen minutes away just to discuss a random ass topic they couldn’t stomach doing over the phone or text. God, even an email would be easier than the shit they pull. Or, she knows how much I hate Rubin, but I’m forced to basically babysit him for Mom and Dad while they sit on their asses and do nothing all day at work. They seriously lack the mental capacity to understand how annoying he is, and how annoying it is to hang out with him or bring him over to the apartment. They always say, “But Percy, he’s your baby brother!” But to that I say, “fuck off.” Just because I happened to be born before him doesn’t mean he’s my responsibility now. I don’t even get paid for it. I thought my babysitting days were over once I moved out, but I guess not! Halle-fucking-lujah. And she also knows how worried I am about my Overwatch league, and how often I have to practice for it. I love doing it, don’t get me wrong, it’s fun, but I hate always being glued to the computer like that. I know I gotta make some real money off of this soon, but it just stresses me out so much. Michelle really has no idea what it’s like for me, being home all day, all my duties. I wish she would give me the benefit of the doubt, just once. All she does is accuse and get mad at me for things I didn’t even contribute to.

I just wish things could go back to how they were with Michelle, my Mika, when we first met back in college, and every time we spoke sparks flew instantly. Even a year ago, things were different between us. We used to have romantic nights out, and cuddly movie nights on the couch, but now those have turned into cold, empty looks and heated arguments. That spark I loved so much is fading, and I want it back, so, so bad.

In all my sulking on the couch, I was interrupted by a notification on my phone. I reached for it, and quickly looked at the text– It was from my old college buddy Alex, in the group chat with my whole college friend group.

“Still up for tonight guys?”

Fuuuuuuuck. I had totally forgotten that I had plans with the guys for tonight. It was supposed to be all of us– me, Alex, Josh, and Andrew– going out to some bar downtown. I couldn’t remember the name of the place, let alone what time we were supposed to meet up, and couldn’t bother to check the message history and find out. Soon, the other guys chimed in confirming they were going, first Andrew, then Josh, leaving only me. I quickly thought of an excuse to not go.

“Sorry guys, my girl said I couldn’t tonite. Too dangerous to get home drunk and she has work in the morning, can't pick me up that late. Maybe another time,” is the best I could come up with.

They all typed their cries of disappointment, me remaining silent in the chat. That was until Andrew, the motherfucker, suggested we just come to my place. That way, I wouldn’t need to worry about getting home. Amazing, just what I wanted him to say.

“Yeah, sure. Be here by 4.”

They asked the address, I sent it, then turned my phone off and threw it to the other end of the couch, sighing loudly as I did. Putting my head in my hands, I thought of what to do. God, I hated hanging out with them. They haven’t matured whatsoever from when we were in college, and it’s like having a bunch of little Rubin’s running around whenever I’m with them. Constantly having to remind them to stop being so loud, so rambunctious, so, well, annoying. It reminds me of high school, where I’d be sitting at a table, minding my business, then suddenly people are flinging food at each other and screaming like banshees in heat, and I’m just sitting there, calm, collected, and irritated as fuck. I can’t stand them, I find it hard to relate to them, they’re all so immature for their ages. The only reason I wanted to go out was because we’d be drinking, and it would be fun and more tolerable. I was gonna try to pretend I didn’t know them, and wasn’t with them, and just have an excuse to get out of the house and relax on my own. Now that they’re coming here, and I doubt they’d be bringing anything with them, it’ll just be me and 3 other guys sitting in my living room like we’re boyscouts about to tell a campfire story. Is it really too late to cancel? Maybe something happened to Michelle at work, and they couldn’t come… No, because then, I’d have to keep up the lie. Ugh, god damnit.

I looked around the tiny living room, with our much too big TV and our much too small TV stand, that held my Xbox and my games, and a big bluetooth speaker I ordered for myself off Amazon. I looked at the floor, and at the loveseat where Michelle does all her reading. The house was a bit messy, but I had better things to worry about right now. I needed to start thinking about refreshments. I trudged into the kitchen and investigated our fridge, first. All I saw was a half empty 2 liter of Pepsi, some chinese takeout boxes, some chicken breasts, a barely touched gallon of milk, my case of Redbulls, Michelle’s leftover Starbucks from the other day, some steaks, some lettuce, condiments and dressings, and baby carrots. Nothing good in here, really. Then, I checked the pantry– pasta, crackers, cereal, Michelle’s spices, breadcrumbs, rice, a few picked through bags of chips, bread, 3 packs of ramen, and other random nonperishables. Not much else in here, either, I guess. I rustled around some more until I saw, in the way, way back of the pantry, a bottle of wine me and Michelle were saving for a special occasion, our anniversary, or a date night, or something. The wine itself was nothing special. It was a bottle of Barefoot, I think it was, like, fifteen dollars. Maybe I could bring this out for me and the guys tonight, to make it a little more bearable for myself. I have a feeling me and Michelle won’t be enjoying it any time soon, with how she’s been acting as of late. I know the guys aren’t huge fans of wine, but unless one of them wants to bring a six pack, then it’s just gonna have to do. I grabbed the bottle and set it on the counter, and reached in the cabinet and pulled out four wine glasses for each of us, so I wouldn’t forget to later. It’s only about two o’clock. I have some time to relax before they get here.

I pace around the apartment, completely dreading their arrival. I wish Michelle were here, so I could ask her what to do. I would call, but she never answers the phone at work. She really does work too much. I look back at the wine bottle sat out on the kitchen counter, and daydream about how nice it would be to enjoy that bottle with her. I’ll try to conserve the wine, and I think tonight, after the guys leave, and when she gets home from work, we’re gonna have a nice, relaxing night together, and we’ll talk through all the issues we’ve been having over that wine. I wanna spoil her tonight. I hope she’ll appreciate it.

I continued my pacing, and after checking the clock on the stove, I saw around thirty minutes went by. It’s almost 2:45, meaning I have about an hour to prepare myself. I’ve been eyeing the wine the whole time I paced, it looks really, really good. I pick up the bottle from the counter and start inspecting it. “Red Moscato” was the flavor, it’s deep red color making it look like some kind of fruit punch, or kinda like blood. Under the flavor, the tagline says, “Deliciously Sweet.” I’m not usually a fan of sweet drinks, but hey, it’s alcohol. In my mind, I considered popping it open early and drinking a little before the guys get here, but quickly swept the thought away, remembering how I wanted to save some for me and Michelle. Besides, I’ll have a little when the guys get here too, that’s when I’ll really need it. I continue to pace.

About fifteen minutes go by. It’s exactly 3:02. The bottle keeps enticing me. It really does look like blood, doesn’t it? I start to think about what it’ll be like when they get here. Their grating laughs, their irritating faces. Just the thought makes me wanna scream. I consider drinking it again, this time those images flashing through my head, my mind filled with dread. Maybe it’ll soften the blow when they get here. It’s now a toss up in my mind– but I knew my answer as soon as the question popped into my head again. Before I knew it I was pouring myself a decently sized glass, all for myself. It should be fine, there’s a lot left. With the first sip, my nerves relaxed, the bitterness of the alcohol adjusting them back into place. I almost chugged out of the glass, just standing right there in the kitchen. The glass was nearly empty by the time I was done with that huge first sip, so I refilled it and took my glass and the bottle back to the living room with me. I sat back and kicked my feet up, now properly able to relax.

Around 3:40 or so I heard a knock at the door. They’re here already? I groaned as it took me out of my tipsy buzzy high, and I reluctantly left the couch with a sigh to answer the door. Stumbling on the way there, I opened the door, and saw it was Andrew, the very kind, considerate guy, who kindly and courteously suggested we come to my house, without asking me first, before suggesting it. How lovely. He greets me with a pat on my back, and I notice in his hand he’s holding a six pack of Modelo. Thank fucking god, that wine was too good I almost didn’t wanna share it with these idiots. Being considerate, though, I took his beer and stuck it in the fridge, and led him to the living room, letting him know there’s already some wine in there if he wanted it, hoping in my head he didn’t.

We made small talk on the couch until I heard another knock at the door. I got up, and Andrew followed. Nearly stumbling again, I opened the door and greeted Josh, the most palatable of the bunch. He held a huge tote bag filled with snacks, as if he’d stopped at the store before coming here.

“I wasn’t sure what you had, so, I brought a little of everything, heh,” he explained. Did he not expect me to have anything here already? I sort of appreciated the sentiment, but felt a little disrespected at the same time. Andrew greeted him at the door, giving him the same pat on the back he gave me. Must be some kind of tradition among young men I’m not aware of. They started talking as they stood in the kitchen, and I barely paid any attention, until Alex showed up in the open door frame, greeting us by holding his hands in the air, one holding a drawstring bag and the other holding a case of Corona Light. The 3 stooges began hollering in excitement, huddling up and chanting and jumping up and down to celebrate their hang out sesh. I winced and my ears rang, taking the case of Coronas and placing it next to the Modelos in the fridge. They finally died down and migrated to the living room, and I reluctantly followed.

Twenty minutes have passed, and we’ve already each cracked open a Corona or two, or in my case, 3. They were sipping at them between words, and I sat there silently drinking, quick enough to get drunk as fast as possible and slow enough to not chug it. I’m zoned out, tipsy, and barely paying any attention to the conversation. I hear the chatter, but don’t know what they’re saying, until Alex brings me back.

“Hey, who brought this shitty wine?” He called out, looking to the group, laughing patronizingly. The others laughed with him and they all looked around, apart from Andrew.

“Oh, that was just some stuff I had lying around.. I didn’t feel like going out again today,” I explained, wanting to end it right then and there.

“Dude, this is some fuckin’… Some chick shit!” They all cackled. “What, are you fucking gay or something, man?” The cackling got louder. I took a large sip from my bottle in response.

Andrew opened his big mouth, “No, dude, doesn’t he have a girlfriend or something?” He stifled a chuckle.

“Yeah,” I responded, without a hint of humor in my voice.

“Bro, I forgot you had a girl, man,” Josh said. I don’t know how that’s possible, when I said it was the reason I couldn’t go out. Fucking idiot. “How are y’all doing together?” He slurred out.

I questioned whether to be truthful or to let the question pass by without giving a clear answer, but I’m drunk enough that my real answer comes out without me even realizing I’m talking. “Well..” I started, voice low and words slurring. “She’s… She’s been stressed, with work and stuff, recently, and, uh… Well, we’ve been kinda, um,” my eyes widened and I exaggerated a loud sigh. “She’s been kinda pissed off with me lately. I don’t know.. She’s always complainin’ about something.”

Alex responded, “Well that’s just women, man, that’s just how they are,” he waved his hands in the air, as if to brush it off and say it wasn’t my fault. “That’s why I can’t do none of that lovey-dovey shit. Either she’s mad at me for doin’ somethin’ stupid, or I’m mad at her for doin’ somethin’ stupid. I just.. I just can’t do it.”

Josh raised his drink in the air, said, “Shit, I’ll drink to that,” and let out a stifled laugh. Andrew lifted his drink slightly as well. I stayed still.

Alex continued, “Women are just bitches, man. Personally, what I do, is, I just pump and dump, y’know what I’m sayin’?” He sticks out his tongue, and starts making a thrusting motion, laughing. Andrew and Josh drunkenly cackle. I stayed silent and just nodded along. “But really, man, that.. that blows. I’m sorry. That fucking blows.” He then reached over the arm of the couch, and lifted his drawstring bag over and into his lap. He unfastened the strings and reached into the bag, pulling out a pre-rolled joint, a lighter, and an ashtray. “A little something to ease your mind?” he said, as Andrew and Josh went wild, cheering for Alex. He placed the ashtray on the coffee table in front of us and handed me the joint and the lighter.

God, I haven’t smoked since college. I haven’t had a real reason to since then. Yeah, I’m stressed now, but not nearly as much as I was back with constant finals and exams and assignments. It was fun. And hey, I’m already decently tipsy. What’s a little extra? Why the hell not?

After contemplating for a moment, I took it from his hand, placed the joint in my mouth, and lit up for the first time in years. That first inhale nearly killed me with how hard I coughed. The guys all laughed at me, and it annoyed me. But after they went back to talking, and my high set in, their voices were drowned out and I completely zoned out of the conversation, only ever coming back when they passed the joint to me. I enjoyed my time with them for the first time since we graduated, as I leaned back into the couch and got drunker with every sip of Corona and my “chick shit” wine, and got higher with every puff.

I don’t remember much else about the night until they were leaving. I wasn’t blacked out or anything, I just was so out of it I can’t remember anything until I came back to reality, in a way. I looked around as they were leaving, and it was dark in the living room, the TV was playing some random music I’d never heard before, and the room was a mess, with empty beer cans and bottles all over the couch and coffee table. I got up to see them out, stumbling over the garbage, and the kitchen was just as dark as the living room. The light from the stove clock illuminated it just enough though to where I could see they left all their snacks and beer. I wasn’t sure whether this was on purpose or not, but I certainly wasn’t gonna complain about it at all. We said our goodbyes, and I shut and locked the door, finally getting some time to myself, without worrying for the first time today. I grabbed a bag of Doritos and a Modelo from the fridge, and went and sat down on the couch. I turned the music off, started playing my own on my speaker from my phone, and played Fortnite on my Xbox for the next few hours.

I was so out of it that 2 hours passed by in an instant, and suddenly, Michelle was home from work. I didn’t notice until she turned on the overhead light in the living room, and shouted my name. It startled me, and sent me in a panic to shut off my game and the music.

I looked at her with wide eyes, heart beating out of my chest. “What!?” I yelled out.

Michelle stood next to the couch, still holding her purse and wore her uniform from work. She hadn’t even taken her shoes off yet. She looked at me with wet eyes, as if she had just gotten done crying. “‘What?’ What do you mean, ‘What?’” she mocked. While her eyes were teary, they still showed an intense fire, showing just how angry she was at me. “I just cleaned up the apartment this morning, and, it’s already filthy again! I mean, look for yourself, Percy!” she yelled out, looking around at the beer cans and bottles, empty chip bags, and random piles of garbage, all left by the guys, then back to me. “And, what the hell is that smell? It’s like something died in here, oh my god, it’s terrible!” she cried out. Oh shit, it must be the weed she’s smelling. I hope she doesn’t realize what it is.

“I dunno,” I stammered out.

“You ‘dunno’. You always ‘dunno’. No, seriously, Percy, what happened while I was gone?”

“I just had some of the guys over, that’s all,” I answered, “they left a few hours ago, I think.. It’s really not that bad, hon,” I say as I looked around at the state of the apartment.

“Did one of them die in here, or something? I mean really, oh my god! How do you not smell that?” she questioned, covering her nose with her shirt, wafting the smell away from her.

I tried to diffuse the situation. “..Smell what?”

She groans in response, “Ugh, whatever,” and then continues, “They left here how long ago? A few hours, you said?” she questioned. She then pointed at me, “So, why didn’t you clean up after they left?”

I’m still a little drunk, and I started to get frustrated with her. I wanted to have a good night with her and it’s already going to shit. I try to hold myself back, but blurt out, “Ugh, it’s not even that bad, Michelle. Just relax.”

“I nearly tripped trying to get in the house because there’s garbage piled up by the front door!” she screamed out, “What the hell do you mean, ‘it’s not that bad’?”

I drunkenly blurted out again, “Michelle, honey, please. Just chill out,” putting my head in my hands. I continued, “You’re really stressing me out right now.. I had a really, really long day today, and, I just wanted to have a good night with you when you got back.”

Michelle laughed in my face after I said that. “Really? What was it that made it a ‘long day’?” She crossed her arms and grimaced at me.

“Well, for starters,” I began, “I had to get an Uber to my parents, so we could plan out Rubin’s birthday over brunch, and–“

“With what money?” she interrupted.

I rolled my eyes. “..With your card,” I mumbled.

She sighed out, “Continue.”

“So.. I had to do that, then I had to stop at that shitty McDonald’s you always complain about since I was starving–“

“With what money, again?”

I rolled my eyes even harder, becoming even more frustrated. “With your card,” I muttered coldly, louder than last time. “Then,” I continued, “the guys came over, and, well, I had to be around them for like, 2 or 3 hours, or something.. You know how much I hate them, baby–“

“So, why’d you invite them over?” She interrupted a third time.

I snapped on her this time. “Why do you keep interrupting me!?” I whined out, losing my temper a bit. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again and placed a hand on her hip. I continued, “They basically forced me to have them over! And, they, like, pissed me off the whole time, and kept annoying the shit out of me!”

Michelle was fuming, and I could tell. She let out another chuckle to herself, shaking her head and closing her eyes, and rubbed her temple with one hand, leaving the other on her hip. “Percy,” she started, “I just got done working a double at a grocery store that doesn’t give a shit about me, making $12 an hour, where I got screamed at all day for shit that wasn’t my fault,” she crossed her arms, “my feet have not gotten a break since 6 AM, since I had to be up early to start cleaning up after you. My head is throbbing, my legs, back, and arms are in so much pain. You had brunch with your rich parents, got McDonalds for yourself with my money, and drank with your friends all night. But you were the one who had a long day. Right.” She rolled her eyes as I sat there, speechless, until she caught a glimpse of the wine bottle on the coffee table, stared at it, and her eyes simply drooped as they watered again. Wondering what made her so upset, I looked over along with her, and saw the bottle was almost completely empty, enough to probably fill a shot glass or two. Did I really drink all that? I felt mortified as I looked back to Michelle, and saw she was storming off to our bedroom, where she usually takes off to during our arguments.

I leapt onto my feet and called out to her, trying my best to fix this horrible situation. “I’m sorry for the mess, I really didn’t want them to make such a huge mess, and I was gonna clean it but.. Really, Mika, I-“

She snapped her whole body around to interrupt me, pointing a finger at me and shoving it into my chest, “Don’t fucking call me that, Percy!” she screamed breathlessly, “I don’t give a fuck about whether or not you were gonna clean it. I’m so sick and tired of seeing you sit there on your ass and make it worse for me. It’s fucking disgusting. You’re a grown man and you can’t pick up after yourself? Seriously!?” She threw her arms up in the air in confusion, and turned back around in a hurry to get to the bedroom.

In one last dire effort to calm her down, I grabbed her arm, pulling her back towards me and stopping her from reaching the bedroom, spun her around, and kissed her. It’s been so long since we last kissed, and she tasted amazing. I could feel her trying to wriggle out of my grip, so I just held her tighter and kissed her harder to distract her from her own anger. She continued to push away from me, unsuccessfully, until I felt a hard slap on my right cheek. In shock, I pulled away and let go of her, and stared at her in surprise. She backed away from me creating a few feet of space between us, and she stood and stared at me with a fearful stance.

“What the hell, Percy!?”

I immediately lunged forward and kissed her deeply again before she could finally make it through the door. I grabbed her waist and the back of her head, pushing her into me with both hands. She pushed as hard as she could, nearly getting away once, but my grip on her tightened. I felt my cheeks become flushed as I kissed her and felt her body with my hands. Something came up inside me, making me need this woman more than anything, no matter how mad she was at me. I could feel warmth spreading throughout my whole body as she wriggled in my grip. She smacked me again, but it did nothing. Then another time. I simply grabbed her harder each time she hit me. She yelled between my kisses, “Percy, stop!” as she continued to push me away, but I resisted and silenced her by shoving my tongue in her mouth, deeper with each of her cries. She continued to hit me to shoo me away from her, and even began trying to pull my face away from hers by reaching her arm up and tugging at my hair and pushing at my face. I only responded by grabbing her arms and bringing them back down as she did so. By this point I was practically panting, as with each moment and each hit and tug and pull, I craved her and her body more and more. I needed to feel her entire body and I wanted her to feel mine.

I finally pulled away from her to gain some breath. My heart was pounding out of my chest, and my whole body felt so weak and tingly around her, but my grip on her stayed the same. As I pulled my mouth away from hers, I breathed in deeply and opened my eyes to look at her face. Her eyes were wide with a helpless look, an adorable look that made my knees wobble as I saw it. I couldn’t help but lean back in to kiss her again, and as I closed my eyes, I felt a large object make impact with my jaw and ear, physically knocking my face away from hers, and my whole body stumbled to the side following my head. I won’t lie, it sent me reeling, and I grabbed my jaw and caressed it to ease the pain. I looked up at Michelle, who backed away from me again, holding her purse out with her arm fully extended. I could see her slightly tremble, and she said nothing before she made her way in the bedroom, slammed the door.

I smirked a bit after collecting myself, finding her anger so adorable. I followed after her, and turned the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge. She must’ve locked it. I tried to force it open again, using my body to try and make the door move a little, but still nothing. Still fiddling with the doorknob, I begged and pleaded for Michelle to come back out and talk to me, but she ignored me. I grew desperate and began banging on the door, trying to get it open. I needed to feel her body again, to touch her, and kiss, and taste her again.

“Michelle, please.. I just wanna talk, please..”

“We can talk when you learn how to clean up your shit,” she finally called out through the door. Just the sound of her voice made me melt.

“Baby, I.. I just really wanted to have a nice night,” I whined out, sliding my hands down the door, “why do you always have to go and ruin it for us..? Why can’t you just take care of it tomorrow, or something?”

“Oh, my god, I have work tomorrow, too! 7 to 5, plus I have to run errands tomorrow after! I don’t have the time to be your goddamn maid, Percy! I’m fucking done with it! Don’t think I’m doing shit with you until you learn how to clean up around the house.”

Again with the ‘having no time’. “I had a busy day too, hon, like I said,” I softly pleaded to her, “And I’m busy all day tomorrow, too.. I have to worry about my career taking off soon, and, I.. I have to go back to my parents again tomorrow! I just- I just don’t have the time either, I-“

I stopped mid sentence, quieting down to listen to the rustles and thumps coming from inside the room. I put my ear up to the door, listening carefully, before the door moved suddenly and I nearly fell over. I saw Michelle standing there, holding a ball of laundry, and she was wearing only a pair of pajama pants and a black bra. She let her hair down, just the way I liked it, and she had that look on her face again, with a tear streaming down her face. She coldly said as her brows furrowed, “Then you know what? If you have to go over again tomorrow, why don’t you get a head start, and get the fuck out of here.” She shoved the clothes at me, and I nearly dropped them since I was so focused on her, and her beautiful body. It had been so, so long since I’d seen her like this, and god, that face she was making drove me crazy. My face felt hot and my whole body was all wobbly again.

All I could mutter was, “Look, Michelle, I.. I’m sorry.. for acting how I did, just now. Let’s just.. can we, uh.. restart, hon?”

She looked to the side, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing her biceps up and down. “Just.. Just go, please. I can’t do this right now.”

“No, baby, I.. I really just, I wanna make this up to you,” I said gently. I tossed my clothes onto the floor, and placed one hand on her waist and wiped her tears with the other. As I touched her, she slightly backed away from me, her body trembling again. I leaned in to kiss her, caressing her cheek as I did, and held her against me by the waist with the other hand. She resisted for just a moment, but finally gave in and began kissing me back.

My face felt hot again as we stumbled into the room, and I lead her to the bed, pushing her onto it and leaning over her as we made out. I made my way down from her jaw to her neck, then down to her chest where I left 2 hickeys. I joked with her, “I know you have work tomorrow, so, I left them there instead, heh.” She had no reaction.

I massaged my hands over her entire body, and my lips followed. I undressed myself, helped her take off her bra and pants, and kissed her one final time before pushing her onto her back, spreading her legs, and getting on top of her, positioning myself so I could see all the helpless faces she always made.

She looked a bit hesitant, almost disinterested, like she was spaced out. I gained her attention, and reassured her, “Just enjoy it, alright?”

After we finished, I fell over onto my back and breathed heavily. Michelle stayed perfectly still, before turning onto her side, getting cozy under the covers, and curling up into a ball, staying silent. Neither of us said anything for a good while. I think she might’ve fell asleep, so now, it’s just me and my thoughts until she wakes up. My mind wandered and recollected our argument beforehand. I looked to the clock, and it was already 10:30, an hour and a half since she’d gotten home. I thought about how angry she was when she walked through the door, and how upset she was while we were still talking. God, her face when she saw the wine. I definitely fucked up with that one. Well, at least the night wasn’t totally ruined, after all of that. I remembered how she’d told me to “get a head start” on my day tomorrow, and told me to go to my parents. I know she meant it as an insult, but.. it didn’t sound like a horrible idea. I have to be there a bit early tomorrow, plus I should dedicate most of my day to my league, shouldn’t I? Thank you, Michelle, for the idea.

I got out of bed and dressed myself again. I gathered all the clothes that laid outside the bedroom door, and loosely shoved them into an old backpack, before finally hearing my Mika’s voice again.

She called out, “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I uh, was thinking about what you said earlier, about me getting a head start on my day tomorrow, and, uh, I thought it was a good idea. So, I’ll be at my parents house for the night.”

She didn’t respond.

“I’ll be home before you get home tomorrow, don’t worry.”

Still no response.

I finished packing up all my things and got my shoes on.

“Is it alright if I take your car, hon?” I asked.

The only response I got was her adjusting the blanket a bit. Must be half asleep. I assume she wouldn’t need it that bad, so I reached into her purse and took her keys.

Before I left, I quietly approached Michelle, gently moved the hair from her face, and planted a kiss on her temple, before whispering to her, “I love you, Mika.” I turned back around, grabbed my stuff, turned off the light, and shut the door. I finally left the apartment, and headed over to my parents house.

[dazedpuppydairies]

Yesterday someone called me a "nasty fuck" because I use neopronouns. It kind of stung because I'm not doing well physically or mentally. I get it's really not that big of a deal, but I feel like talking about it. I was on Bumble friends, and I came across someone who expressed in their bio that his fiance had recently died and that she had no one anymore. They also expressed that he didn't actually use Bumble and that she wanted folks to DM them on Instagram. I usually don't like using "dating apps" this way, I like to actually match with people, but I understand this is how some people like to use these apps, and I felt for them so I wanted to reach out. I didn't really get the impression that she would be a transmed or anything like that because their nonbinary and use they/he/she pronouns. Now, this is my own fault, but I didn't really go through their Instagram before dming them as I was coming from Bumble just to dm them. Still though, if it was Tumblr and not Instagram, I would have read his bio, pinned post, and explicitly looked for DNI's because that's Tumblr etiquette and just generally a good thing to do. Last night, I honestly just wasn't thinking about it, especially because I had just read their whole Bumble profile. So I messaged him saying hi and explaining that I was from Bumble and they immediately messaged me saying "Read my fucking bio nasty fuck" "Neo pronouns arent valid." They have neopronoun advocates DNI in their bio, but they're bio was cut off so I didn't notice that part. Like I kind of get it because not respecting someone's DNI's is shitty, but also fuck you asshole. Her bio is written in an aesthetic way, so half of it bio was cut off, too. It's not like it was obvious. I do actually remember seeing neo pronoun in their bio before messaging them for a split sec, but it cut off. I honestly figured they also used neopronouns, too, and was going to go back and look at it. Big mistake. I get I probably should have read the bio before messaging her, but also fuck that asshole. They blocked me right away, so I couldn't say anything even if I wanted to, but I obviously did get a chance to look at their bio and they actually have a Google doc linked to their Instagram account insisting that neopronouns are the reason why trans people get unalived. There was also a part about how neopronouns are problematic because they're socially unconventional and how the LGBT has been working hard for years to be accepted into society so being socially unconventional hurts the community. Yeah there's no way in hell I would have gotten along with this fucker, but I guess I learned my lesson always read someone's bio. Like seriously, never forget to read someone's bio!

[redwayfarers]

A long, long line

Fandom: Infamous IF Ship: Swan/Orion Characters: Swan Ellis (OC), Orion Quinn Rating: Gen Words: 684 Summary: Swan wants their morning coffee so very badly. If they could trade their feelings for their manager for it, they would. Nero’s note: Felt like this fic needed to be let out of my google doc drafts. Swan has eaten enough of my braincells for it. Please enjoy my breach into a new fandom!

Someone’s car honks in front, another honks in the back. It’s 8am on a Sunday, there shouldn’t be so much honking, in front of Starbucks, of all places. Childishly, Swan considers adding in a sorrowful little honk of their own - if cars can be sorrowful, which they highly doubt. They’re not using their voice before they’ve had their morning coffee. 

There was no coffee at home, they reason. There was no coffee at their place so now they have to buy the Starbucks one. Why wasn’t there any coffee? Well, they forgot to buy it yesterday. Their phone sits with its screen darkened on their lap. By their calculations, they have about 45 seconds to figure out a logical excuse as to why they’re late for rehearsal. Orion’s gonna be on my ass about this, Swan bemoans internally as they tap their nails against the wheel. The line isn’t moving. Their head is screaming for caffeine. The phone screen is dark and nasty and evil and filled with Orion’s quiet frowns that cut into their very soul.

On the 43rd second mark, it comes to life. Orion’s name clouds the photo of the band, tightly wrapped in a group hug. Their manager’s name sits directly over Swan’s head and they can’t help an aborted, miserable snort. Where are you?, the message reads. We’re waiting for you.

Swan sighs and opens the message. The line’s long, they reply to the background vocals of an annoyed shriek of yet another honk. It’s fucking Sunday. I’m decaffeinated.

Don’t you have coffee at home? Swan can hear the disapproval. It makes them tap their nails of their free hand harder against the wheel.

Forgot to buy it yesterday. 

Irresponsible, if you’re going to have an addiction to it anyway. 

Swan frowns and adjusts their glasses. Vocal parts will have to come later today unless Devyn wants to start before I’m there. I refuse to sing without caffeine in my system. Then, finally, the line moves! They almost drop their phone as they move a few inches closer to ambrosia. Now, it’s only 4 cars ahead of them. They can almost feel the smell of it in the car. 

Be as quick as you can. And do remember to buy coffee next time. I don’t think you guys are making instrumental music. Swan’s joy deflates like a puffed balloon. They hate it when Orion scolds them like a child. All the more since the unfortunate discovery of a little crush on him a few months ago, which has already ended up in several songs they don’t want to show anyone yet. 

Whoever said that having a crush was fun and games lied. Orion would never consider them as anything other than a client, maybe a friend. It’s stupid and there’s no end goal in feeding their hopes of ever getting past that. But there are songs and singing about Orion is miles away from writing breakup songs.

There are three more cars ahead now. Swan has tied and retied their hair into at least seven different types of buns as the lady ordering hashes out her wishes to a barista. They feel like kicking their feet against their seat, but they’ll have to clean it up later. Dad’s always liked a clean car, after all. 

Two more. They reread Orion’s message and bang their forehead against the wheel. It echoes in their mind like a spank. Humiliating, or would be if Swan hadn’t been a dumbass who forgot to buy coffee yesterday. Disappointing Orion feels like the worst possible punishment, perfectly adjusted to the crime committed. 

One more. It’s almost within their grasp. A bald guy’s arguing about his order. Their annoyance is almost as palpable as Soft Violence’s music on the radio. 

When the coffee - delicious, black, bitter, perfect for 8am on a Sunday - is finally in their hands, Swan sighs contentedly. It’s kinda funny how fast it’s gone, considering how long they waited to get it, but they feel revitalized and ready to face Orion's frowns now! 

Mirror in the Creek isn’t an instrumental band after all. 

[hekateinhell]

As someone who can wax poetic about your Lesmand fics I'd love if you were to write some properly deranged nasty edging with Lesmand... Lestat getting edged is something so special, especially with Armand since he understands him on such a different level, and since that horndog will fuck anything that doesn't run away from him... A creature led by desire getting tamed by Armand... what are your thoughts?

anon, flattery is the way to my heart and also my to-do list 🥰

no but no joke, I think about this literally all the time! there's so many scenarios: human AU (and if so, which one?), vampire (physical touch, more sensory and sexual in tone), vampire (blood/hunger edging), vampire (BOTH OF THE PREVIOUS ONES COMBINED)

because Lestat loves, loves, loves physical caresses and validation, and having that withheld in a controlled environment by someone whom he knows loves him so fucking deeply and can read his mind and know exactly where the limit is and finally give him euphoric rush of pleasure and connection... god, it keeps me up at night 🥹

also I really, really have a thing for Lestat crying from overstimulation (emotional or sexual) idk if I've exposed myself enough with this lmao. I very briefly touched on it in my last fic but it's something that I want to do just right (I've had an L/A non-sexual dacryphilia kink piece sitting half finished in the Google Docs since October rip).

tl; dr: YES to properly deranged nasty edging with Lestat and Armand, you get me anon ♥️ also feel free to tell me your personal definition of "nasty" I'm always so curious 👀

[m0llygunn]

director’s commentary on “eddie’s notes” pls pls pls! 🫶

omg i forgor sorry i took so long to answer this BUT YES directors cut ask game link to eddie's notes

thank you for this lil directors cut request!! especially with this fic, i feel like i've never really talked about it (maybe i have?). i look at this fic with a soft fondness because to me, this was my 'breakout' fic, if you will (humour me). it was the first time i ever had actual feedback on my stuff, so it is very special to me, but also!!! it makes me rescind into my own body like i have a physical reaction to the cringe whenever i attempt to reread it so im going off memory here lol

basically this fic had a few inspos! first was the scene from the movie the first time (with dylan o'brien (<3)) where they have their first time! spoiler!!! but it goes badly and then dylan (i dont remember what the characters name is) basically blames britt robertson's character, which yuck!ew!gross!, but just the awkwardness of the scene kind of set the stage for eddie's notes.

this fic was also inspired by the way that i was doing 'research' for my other fics. For the second part of same old song and dance I was perusing reddit forums where men were describing the best blow jobs they had ever received (i don't usually care for men on reddit's opinions but i was looking for new perspectives and feeling descriptors lol), and I was taking key words and choreographing the head scene based on some of the commentary there (quite literally taking notes in my google docs), and i had this moment where i was like .....okay what the fuck am i doing right now.... and then from there the idea was kind of born.

i think my favourite part of the fic is the beginning when reader says she's a virgin and then eddie's like "oh me too" as if he didn't already say it. I think its so lame and corny and eddie coded. My least favourite part is the contingency error with the timing of day (that i added in as an after thought without realizing it messed up the timeline (it was afternoon and by the time they were done fucking the second time the sun was setting, but it was summer time which means they fucked for hours??? because the sun sets at like 9pm in the summer????? and reader who talked about living with her parent never had them come home from work??? i fucked that up but you live and ya learn))

despite the error, i do think this is a really special fic for me because it was the first time i ever felt connected to something here. also i like attention and i got a lot of attention from this <3 (seriously though, all of the kind messages i received felt life changing in a way. it sounds dramatic, but i never share stuff with people in my life so sharing something and receiving that level of positivity really reached out to a deep part of my soul and schmacked a huge big honking wet nasty kiss on it, and i'll remember it forever and ever and ever. also just having people relate to your art always feels so special, and i'll never be able to describe how cool and all encompassing the feeling is that comes with it)

[shellyswirlz]

I saw your post on anti-shroomy and anger. I don't know you much, I never will, but if you care to listen or something, I can give you some words on my part. Ignore these if you want, if anything I say angers you in any way I'm so so sorry in advance and I apologize.

People say that anger is always controllable. That's not how everyone works. People can't really separate one image of you from another. By what I'm told, I feel like some people just treat you like a walking time bomb then an actual person. But, your anger is not inherently a bad thing. It's a part of you that's angry at the world because that's the part that loves you the most, it knows that it wasn't fair enough to you or to anyone else. It wants the treatment you deserve to have. You lash out at people you consider 'bad', like family or the internet strangers you said before. I know I shouldn't be making comparisons of this sort, but it sounds to me that these people in your life are your 'demons'. I don't have background knowledge, but sometimes people get mad at their family for a lot of things. You just don't see it as often because family is harder to get angry at. To lash out at, because they've been with you your whole life. I get that you want it to stop. You don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, either. I'd suggest therapy, but that record is broken again and again, so I'm going to suggest alternatives.

try keeping an 'anger journal'. Write what makes you angry in a situation. Write and vent in it, draw, rip it, I don't care. After you've finished the journal, you could burn it. Burn it and watch your anger burn away, in a sense.

Or sometimes you just need to fuck shit up. Something to yell and cry at. It's not socially acceptable, but you need to do it sometimes because everyone experiences their emotions differently.

Again, im sorry If i offended you in any way.

Nono it's ok I understand! You didn't offend me at all... It just feels so uncontrollable to me personally 'cause when I'm angry I'm throwing things around or hitting people even though I really don't actually wanna hurt people.. My nasty behavior just.., doesn't feel like me cause my friends and family know me as this happy cheerful person, but when I lash out it feels like a sudden explosion went on in the house.

My mom is usually saying how she knows I don't mean it and she tries her best to separate my anger from my optimism. She tries her best to help. But I know that my anger is still apart of me because it's an emotion everyone has... 😭

I get what you mean completely. Whenever I'm angry I'm usually playing Fortnite or typing long paragraphs in google docs or in vent/rant channels on Discord so the people I'm mad at can't see. But at the moment after the person made me angry I start to lash out cause I want them to hear my opinion on what I think about them. It feels like I'm unable to stay calm when people insult me or do things I don't like.. And it became a real bad problem.

I might try your therapy suggestion to see if that works...

[sweatandwoe]

hello may i please have some coochie- I mean, can i get some silco BDSM smut and make it extra nasty, hold the ketchup and add an extra large pickle -xoxoChickenparm

You may have all the coochie @chickenparm mother of simps. Also I made sure to add the extra large pickle, and some extra large reading cause this thing is over 7.6K words (17 pages on a google doc). So enjoy and look at all these warnings, ahahahaha

Warnings: Silco x fem!reader, BDSM (the entire thing is about that), Silco being a bad dom one time, bondage, blindfolds, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, a bit of pussy licking, anal sex, anal fingering, degradation, aftercare

He had you propped up against a wall. Your hands were pushed in between both of your chests, the rope digging into your wrists. Your legs were hooked around his hips, as he thrusted into you, with long slow thrusts, one hand on your thigh and keeping it lifted.

“Do you like that, sweetheart?” His voice was warm, close by. The blindfold pressed tightly to your face. “Does it feel good when I fuck you like this?”

You gave a small nod. And his other hand came down onto your face, a slight slap to your cheek. He held it there, rubbing away the shock from your skin, moving his thumb along your cheek to cup it in hand. His voice was like a growl. “Manners.”

“Yes, Sir.” You arched your neck, and he accepted the invitation. Mouth moving to leave a mark there. You gasped at the feel of his teeth, your hands struggling against their bonds. His thrusts deepened, pushing you harder against the wall.

And his fingers brushed over your blindfold, as his hand moved from your face.

–

The last month had been quiet. Your job hadn’t been eventful, the same old desk job you’d had for some time. Doing the manager work at the Mine, keeping files organised, doing payroll, sick leave, bonuses.

It was often enough that you were usually stressed to shit from it. But luckily, life had decided to cut you a break.

Your hand ran along your wrist. You had been doing this more often than not in the past month. There were no more burns from the rope that had been along your wrist, no bruises anymore. But the touch was a little comforting. Even if you hadn’t had anything tied around them in a month.

You heard a call of your name, and peered up. Mr. Delk was the yordle who had owned the mine for the past century. He smiled as he approached you. “Working late again?”

You gave a hum, and a nod. “Weekend’s coming up, and I’d rather not stay late on a friday.”

His brow furrowed. “I thought it was thursdays and tuesdays evenings you needed to be freed up?”

You felt a fresh shot of heat run to your face. “No, I decided to stop taking my lessons. I wasn’t enjoying it.”

“That’s disappointing to hear. But at least you’ve learned at least some skill. I should ask you to perform the piano for us later.” He smiled, always trying to see something good in a sad moment. You were quick to suggest that didn’t happen. And then he shifted his feet. “I’ve brokered a deal. We’ve finally made the sale.”

You blinked in surprise. Since you had started, Mr. Delk had been trying to see the mine. So far, he had no takers. You thought it was because he asked for too much, including the keeping of the same staff. At least for a few months.

“Congratulations, Mr. Delk.” You offered, smiling warmly. “I’d offer a drink, but I’m afraid I don’t keep any at my desk.”

He waved off your attempt at a joke. “I’ve already ordered a nice lunch for everyone tomorrow.” His feet shifted again. “I have to announce who it is, in case… people no longer wish to work here.”

“Chembaron?” Mr. Delk was wealthy but didn’t go into crime like most other people in Zaun. It was why many people had sought you to work for him.

He gave a nod, green eyes sad. “Yes. Silco.”

That made your entire body tense, your heart suddenly in your throat and you could feel it beating quickly. You almost snapped your pen from how hard you gripped it. He blinked at your reaction, his furry brow knitting together. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” You managed, taking a deep breath through your nose. “I… I can’t work under him, Mr. Delk.”

He frowned. “He’s offering a bonus for all managers who stay at least to train.”

You would need money if you were leaving your job. But it made your shoulders still tense. Your wrists burned at the familiar feeling. Of a red and blue eye staring at you, wide and in horror. You forced that thought away, and looked over at the yordle.“How long?”

“Two months.”

“When does he start?”

“He officially is the owner at the end of the week.” Two days.

You rubbed your fingers along your brow, to the bridge of your nose. Your head suddenly throbbing as you considered it. He probably wouldn’t be dealing with you. You’d just train whatever underling he picked, teach them how to do your job and get out of there.

“I’ll stay for two months.”

Mr. Delk was excited, and you listened half heartedly at his retirement plans. He escorted you out once your paperwork was done. And once you began to walk home, you ran a hand over your wrists.

The pain hadn’t been long. It had only lasted a few days. But every so often, usually if you thought of him, they’d begin to ache again. As though it was a physical reminder, to keep your thoughts away from any positive light.

The next day Mr. Delk informed the staff of the news. And to your surprise, only a

handful of people quit. Apparently Silco was one of the best of the Chembarons to work for. Which was more surprising, considering he was the leader of them. The unofficial king of Zaun.

And the day afterward, in the afternoon he had closed early. Instead calling for a somewhat party in the lower level, with a makeshift stage even created for it.

A farewell/congratulations event for Mr. Delk. You stayed towards the back of it, trying to stay just long enough until it would be acceptable to leave. The other managers and most of the employees seemed to be of a similar mind, from all the whispering you were hearing to each other.

Of course when it did come to that suitable time to leave, Mr.Delk had to make a speech. You didn’t mind it, smiling as he thanked everyone for years of service. He pointed out some individuals, and you were thankful you were not named. “And now, I think your new boss should say some words.”

You clapped along with everyone, trying to contain some of the dread you had as you looked to the stage.

He looked handsome with the light shining on him. And you hated that was the first thing you noted, but it was true. You had only seen him in the darkness of the room, red eye glowing as he gazed at you. He had looked handsome then too, but here it became more obvious. Far more noticeable than the few minutes you had seen his face.

When he gazed out into the crowd, you shrunk against the wall. And if his eyes found you, he did not show it. “Good evening, brothers and sisters of Zaun. I will be short, in that I hope this new found partnership,” his gaze flowed over the crowd once more. Starting from one side of the room and slowly moving across to the other. “brings forth wealth, security and even more freedom from topside.”

His gaze finally fell to your part of the room. And you watched as it suddenly paused, and your heart caught in your throat. Fuck.

His gaze continued across the hall. “And that we continue to gather peace amongst ourselves.” It was a bit of lame ending, as gestured to Mr. Delk again. Who was now tipsy enough to start making another speech.

And Silco came down off the stage, and started walking to your side of the room. Casual, talking to people as he passed by. All charm and villainy, as he either said a few words or glared someone down until they let him through.

The exit was on the other side of the room. And you started to make your own casual way towards it. With sweat beading on the back of your neck.

Your heart nearly exploded when you finally made it, and stepped outside. The cool air allowing you to catch your breath, you could feel your heart racing. It was enough to make you lightheaded. You briefly wondered if you would be able to make it two months, as you moved down the outside steps.

And then you heard your name. You froze. The tremble in your limbs coming back, as your heart seized in your chest.

A hand touched your elbow, brushing over before gently grabbing hold. Another hand was on your back. It was rubbing small circles, carefully and gingerly. Silco turned you to face him, pressing you into his chest as he led you down the stairs. Ducking you under them, so no one could see what you two were doing.

He held you until you calmed down, like he had once before during one of your sessions. Something had set you off and he had stopped all play, kissing and holding you until all the anxiety was gone and it was only his warmth that you could feel. Just talking with you and holding you until it was time to leave.

And he was doing something similar now. And it was such a mixture of comfort and yet, it hurt. It made you ache. It made your wrists burn.

When you stopped trembling, he pulled you away enough to look down at you. The hand on your elbow raised to wipe away the tears you hadn’t realized had started to flow down. He was frowning. “Was it me?”

And you had known him, gotten to know him after all these past few months. You had been sleeping with each other for so long, it was hard not to. Not when you’d talk after a session of rough sex. Holding each other, you hadn’t been able to see him. So you had known him through his voice and his touch.

And in his voice now you could hear it. I hurt you. My presence is hurting you.

“A little.” You admitted, voice soft. He did not stop wiping at your face. “Maybe a lot.” He turned his face, so only the mostly unmarred side was looking at you. You frowned. “It’s not your face.”

He turned fully forward to you again, his blue eye widened just a little. And then his hands moved to your shoulders, carefully touching you all the way down to your wrists. He rubbed at them, and you wanted to cry all over again. “How did you get them off?” I left you tied. I abandoned you.

“I had to grab one of the attendants.” His thumbs carefully ran over the underside of your wrists. “I had to call for them for ten minutes.”

When you looked up at him, he was frowning. “I shouldn’t have panicked.” He admitted, after a few moments. Then after a few more moments, he let go of your wrists. His voice was quiet as he gazed down at you.“I’ve missed you.” Come back. Please.

You had missed him too, but you drew your hands to yourself. His touch on your skin had soothed more than anything else had, and you didn’t want it to soothe. It shouldn’t have soothed. It should’ve hurt, it should’ve stung. “I… I don’t know if I can go back.”

“We don’t have to go back. You know who I am, and I know who you are.” He didn’t reach to touch you again. But you could see he wanted to. The slight twitch in his fingers as he spoke.

The truth was heavy, and it sat in your heart. It needed to come out, and you turned your gaze up to him. “I don’t trust you anymore.”

“Let me try to re-earn it.”

“Silco-”

He said your name back. Warm from his mouth, with a tiny hint of desperation. “Please.”

You swallowed, unable to draw your gaze away from him. You lowered your hands. “Why me? You could go back. You could get a new partner. You don’t have to do this.”

And he stared down at you, like it was the most inane question he’d ever heard. He took a moment, a deep breath coming through his nose. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, his hands coming down to hold your own, gently enough you could easily pull them away. “I care about you.” The declaration was so simple, and yet you stared at him. The tiniest hint of pink was growing on his cheeks, and he scoffed at your expression. “We have been sleeping together for almost half a year.”

“Without knowing each other's names.” But you swallowed, and squeezed your hands around his own. “I care about you too.”

He leaned down, and if he kissed you, you’d lose any nerve you had been building. Even if you didn’t trust him, you weren’t sure if you even trusted yourself right now. Luckily he only pressed his forehead to yours, letting his nose brush against your own. It was still almost enough to make you break, to make you want to kiss him.

He pulled back after a moment. “Can I walk you home?”

You looked at him, staring for a moment. And then you swallowed. “Not yet.”

And he gave a nod, his throat bobbing. He did not push the boundary you had just set, and instead just walked you off the property.

-

He had your ankles locked into a spreader bar today.

Hands tied behind your back, while your cheek was pushed into the bed. You could feel his tongue on your cunt, working its way inside of you, while he kept both hands on your ass. You whimpered, unable to see but he would always offer you some insight. Tell you what he was going to do to you.

His mouth pulled away, and teeth scraped against the inside of your thigh. “Do you like that, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Sir!”

You were rewarded with another lick, and then a squeeze of one of your ass cheeks. “Do you want more?” One hand pulled away, and you could hear the snap of buttons.

“Yes, please sir.” you couldn’t rock your hips back, forced to just stay spread and open. Just like how he liked it. And you could feel how much he liked it when his cock brushed against your opening. A loud moan falling from your lips.

“Good girl.” He spread your cheeks further, to watch no doubt, as he began to sink inside.

–

When you came in on Monday, he was sitting in Mr. Delk’s old office, legs crossed, feet propped onto the desk and smoking a cigar. He had a large pile of paperwork nearby, and he called your name when you began to set your things at your desk. He gestured for you to come close.

And you did so, trying not to let your face heat up as his gaze followed you so closely. “Are you still leaving?”

You had almost forgotten. So instead you made a small shrugging motion. “I’m not sure.”

He looked at the paperwork to his side. “You’ve kept things very well organised.”

“Did you go through my files?”

“Yes.”

Well at least he was being honest. You approached the desk, and he let you rummage your hands through the pile. He had kept it mostly in the same order, but a few things were out of place that you began to fix. “Why did you go through my files?”

“To see if I could offer you a better position.” You looked over at him, and he brought the cigar between his teeth. “I wasn’t going to offer you it today.”

“Do you need a new secretary or something?”

His lips twitched around his cigar. The vaguest hint of a smile. “That’s an idea.” He looked up towards the ceiling, blowing a ring of smoke. “I’ll set up a second desk in my office. You could take notes for my meetings.”

“Isn’t it cliche to have fucked your secretary?”

“It’s cliche to be fucking your secretary, darling.” Then he paused, glancing over at you. He shifted in his seat, before he spoke, drawing the cigar out of his mouth. “Can I still call you that?”

You thought for a moment, bringing your lower lip between your teeth for a moment. “Yes.” You finally said after a few minutes, giving him a small nod. “Sweetheart is fine too.”

He smiled then, just a small curl of his lips.

It took a few more minutes to organize everything, and it felt oddly calm in the silence. Comfortable even. Once you finished organizing your own folders, he gathered some more for you to do from other people.

“I do have to do some payroll.” You mentioned gently, when he handed you a second box.

“I’ll have Xiao do it. He’ll be the one running in this office once I’m gone.”

You didn’t feel any anger at Silco not offering you the position. He would’ve known from all your talks during aftercare, that you wouldn’t have wanted it. It would’ve added too much stress for not enough pay increase. “When are you leaving?”

“Two weeks. Then I’ll be back at the Drop, and I will have a lot of paperwork to do.” He had finished his cigar now, as he looked over some different files.

You gave a small nod. You weren’t too worried about him contacting you. You’d both been very good at setting up appointments during your stay at the club. You were pretty sure even with his busy schedule, he had only missed one of your appointments, and even then it was with hours of warning.

You also knew he wanted you to help him. To take the job. But you weren’t sure if even in two weeks you’d be ready for that.

“Who am I training to take over my job?”

“No one, there’s too many managers as there are. Mr. Delk was more kind than wise with his money.”

You gave a small hum. “So I could just leave?”

There was a pause then, and you glanced at him. He turned his head, blue eye uncertain and red eye glowing. But he did not lie, he gave a small nod. “You could.”

After a moment, you went back to looking over the old files. Organizing them alphabetically. “I won’t.”

–

He was fucking you from behind again. This time there was no spreader bar, and you were not tied at all. He instead held your wrists together in one hand, as he fucked himself into you deeply. Slowly. He wanted to make you beg for it, or he simply wanted to enjoy himself as he fucked into your cunt.

You sucked on the finger he had placed in front of your mouth, carefully not rocking your hips back yet. He’d spank you if you started to do that already, and you weren’t sure if you wanted that yet. When he drew out his finger with a pop, you whimpered.

He hushed you, giving you a slow roll of his hips, settling himself into you as deep as he could and keeping himself there. “I’ll fill you, don’t worry.” And then you felt the hand let go of your wrists. “Grip the sheets.” And you did, feeling the slight tremble in your arms as he moved his hand. Instead he spread one of your cheeks, and you felt the soft pressure of his finger at your ass.

“You want to be filled, slut?” And you gave an eager nod. The hand holding your ass cheek let go, instead giving it a smack before spreading you again.

“Yes, please! I want it.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck my ass. I want you to finger it while you fuck me. Please.”

He slid the finger along your hole, before he let it slip inside. Only after it was fully inside of you, he began to thrust his hips in time with his hand, you could feel the light spit on your back as he spoke, as he began to pound himself into you, your moans only spurring him on. “Going to fill you up completely. You’re my fucking whore.”

–

Two weeks passed easily. Silco rarely had you working at your desk, and you were quite certain everyone believed you were with him. And they weren’t quite wrong. You did care about him, and you had trusted him enough to let him start walking you home. Even if you sometimes spotted one of his goons outside guarding it now. Or spying on you.

He told you it wasn’t to spy, only for protection but it was easy for any guard to do both. You decided to not mention it again, it wasn’t like you were doing anything bad.

He offered you his arm after you had both gotten your coats on, and you began the small trek over to your apartment. He’d have to come back for his car. You walked in silence for a few moments, enjoying the soft way he held your arm.

“I want you to come to the Drop.” You turned to look up at him. His face was slightly fallen. “It’s your choice, but I want you to come.”

“Silco.”

He drew out your name, saying it slowly back. He frowned for a moment. Then he paused, while you were still a good few yards from your home. You squeezed gently at his arm.

“I’m going to miss seeing you everyday.” He turned his gaze to you, and you raised a hand, lifting it to his cheek. “I got spoiled with it.”

“You’ll still see me.” You assured him, letting your thumb pass over his cheek. And then after a moment, you snaked your other hand from his arm to cup the other side too. Gently running over the scars that laid there. A hand came up, to ensure your own stayed on his face.

You were surprised by the soft look. The almost tender expression. To your absolute surprise, he spoke something you didn’t expect to ever hear. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Silco the eye of Zaun. The Kingpin. The murderer. He never apologized. You had heard it in all the stories.

And something flipped in your stomach, but not badly, not like before. You felt a strong sense of warmth flood through yourself. You began to pull his face forward.

For a moment, he just blinked his blue eye at you, his brow starting to furrow. Then you started to lean in. And he was quick to learn, to lean in and meet your mouth. The kiss was soft, light at first. A gentle brush of mouths.

When you didn’t stop, pulling away for a moment before pressing a harder kiss to his mouth, it was like opening the floodgates. His hand dropped from your own, moving to wrap around your middle, the other moved to the back of your neck. Pressing you into him, and your own hands moved to wind around his neck.

When he slid his tongue against your own, you moaned, feeling the nice spread of warmth. He slid against your own, before drawing your tongue into his own mouth.

When you finally pulled away, there was a small connection of spit between your mouths, before it pulled away enough to break. He moved, tucking your head under his chin, and you could feel the slightly heavier breaths, the same ones you were having, against his chest.

You rested there for a few minutes. Just holding one another. When it finally came time to start moving again, you glanced over at him. His entire day had gotten brighter just from your kiss.

“Silco,” he turned, not pausing in his step this time. “I’ll do it. I’ll take the job.”

You would’ve missed him too much. But you could tell him that another day, as he moved to kiss you again.

–

“I wish you could see how well you’re taking me.”

You were in his lap. Your thighs and calves tied together, so you could barely move them. Relying on Silco to lift you up and down. Your breasts pressed into his chest, and you had your hands on his shoulders. He had been kind enough to let you touch him tonight, just not along his face.

“Taking me so perfectly.” He let you sit in his lap for a moment and you could feel his hand, tracing along your waist and moving down, until it went to your cunt. Your empty cunt. With only a small toy at your clit.

He turned it on, and laughed when you began to squirm. Then he lifted you again, sliding his cock slowly out of your ass, before bringing you back down on it.

“So fucking tight for me, sweetheart.” He raised your hips again, and your hands came up to latch around his shoulders. He hissed at the feeling of your nails, and thrusted up into you when he raised you this time. “Such a tight fucking slut. Just for me.”

“Just for you.” You assured, reminding him gently that he’d been the only man to take you there. How much you trusted him. And you were rewarded with a groan, the press of his mouth against your own.

And his thrusts pumping in and out of you, until you were crying out against his mouth.

–

You had been at the Drop now for two weeks. You easily wormed your way into the building, moving up the stairs. You glanced down at Chuck, setting up the bar. Sevika organizing the bouncers and other goons, explaining their jobs for tonight.

And your job was to deal with Silco. There were no meetings, unless some emergencies happened. But he was stressed out enough as it was. The past week had been awful, he had lost ten men in a deal gone wrong and now he was trying to discover which of the other chembarons had done it.

You didn’t knock as you entered, moving to close the door behind you quickly. Silco was at his desk, furiously smoking a cigar while he stood by his desk. Hands spread out as he gazed down at the map.

“It must’ve been a reaction to the mine deal. Idiots.” He laid a piece of paper over the map, and began to trace over it. Carefully working his pen against it.

Your desk had minimal paperwork, as you set your jacket over the back of your chair. Usually you’d ask him how his day was going, how he was doing, how he slept. But you were quite certain the answer to all three could be summarized with ‘not well’.

So you set to work, beginning your paperwork. Doing the payroll confirmations, so Silco could doll out the coins himself later. You ensured the bills were paid, water was cleared, and to also order some more cigars from the way he had been chain smoking them the past hour.

When he finally did sit, it was to dig through a drawer. You watched as he brought out the needle, and then you stood.

His gaze was sharp, but it softened a little as you approached. “You don’t have to do this all the time.”

“I want to do this.” You assured him, moving forward. He spread his legs so you could get in between them. His hands rose to your hips, simply so he’d have something to hold to. And you suppressed the shiver you almost had when he did press them.

You lined up the needle, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, your freehand moving to his jaw to hold the angle correctly. You pulled your head away and pressed.

The needle went immediately, fast and quick. His head came rushing forward, the crown of it resting against your stomach. His teeth bared as he panted out, and after a moment, you raised the hand on his jaw to his hair. Gently tucking back the loose ones and running your fingers through it loosely.

His hands loosened on your hips, until he returned them to his armchair. You followed him when he tilted back, pressing some kisses across his cheekbones on both sides of his face. He accepted the affection, with only a mild look for tenderness. His face was still tight as he looked over at the map once more.

And when you pulled away, you could see it then. So much tension. So much stress. His shoulders were squared as though he were ready to fight. The man was going to chain smoke himself into an early grave at this rate.

And you were deeply thinking about one of the main ways he used to love to relieve some of that stress. And so after a few moment’s of thought, you decided to ask. “There’s no meetings tonight right?”

His brow furrowed, as he reached for another cigar. Glaring when you gave him a look, as he fitted it to his mouth. “No. Why?”

You could’ve sat there thinking about that question far too long. Especially with all the feelings that were bubbling in your stomach. So instead you decided to move between his legs once more. And sink down onto your knees.

The reaction was immediate. He just held the scar to his mouth, blue eye growing so wide it could’ve almost been comical. And then a few blinks, when you rested your hands on his thighs. “Darling?”

You could feel your face warm, and you had, well you had never looked him in the eye when you had to do this before. Yet you met his gaze. “Do you want me to help you ease some stress, sir?”

He swallowed. Mutely, oddly silent, he nodded. And you gently moved your hands forward. Gingerly unclasping the buttons, feeling a wave of eagerness when you saw his cock. You hadn’t seen it before, but you knew how big it was. You stroked him in hand, smiling as he began to grow hard in it.

You kept your eyes on his, and he didn’t seem to be able to look away. He had not even lit the cigar in his mouth. You moved to press a kiss to the tip, before you let your tongue circle it.

The noise he made was small. And he just continued to look at you. His hands moved to the armrests, gripping. You smiled a little, and met his gaze still as you moved your head forward, taking the head of him into your mouth.

You began to bob your head, not taking him as much as you knew you could. Mainly as it had been 2 months since you had done that and you wanted to work up to it. You kept your gaze up at him.

Beforehand when you’d do this, Silco would hold your head, say sweet and filthy things to you. Now as you gazed upon, he was just staring at you as you did it. His cheeks going horribly red. His hands dug into the armrests of his chair.

You pulled your mouth off of him, gazing up at him through your lashes as you pressed a kiss to the underside of his cock, before dragging your tongue along it.

The blue eye twitched.

“Sir,” you began, moving your hands to continue stroking them. “Can you stand up?”

He did, kicking at his chair back so he’d have more room. Your hand stroked over him gently as a reward, and his hands curled into fists. And after a moment, you took his hands in your own. Spreading out your fingers between his.

Silco looked ruined from the act, and you had to make sure to put holding his hands while you sucked him off onto your bucket list. But that wasn’t the end goal right now. The end goal was to help relieve him of tension.

So you drew his hands towards your face. Hovering your mouth over his length, as you placed one hand into your hair, and the other to cup your jaw. Then you rested your hands on his thighs, smiling as you gazed up at him through your lashes. “Do you want to fuck my mouth, sir?”

He swallowed. A nod. And so you moved your mouth over the tip, hollowing out your cheeks and relaxing your throat as best as you could.

The first thrust was small, careful. Worried about hurting you, and you continued to gaze up at him. Watching the red and blue eye, feeling his fingers twitch against your skin.

The next thrusts were deeper, not quite hitting your throat, but starting to move again. He finally spoke then too. “Such a fucking slut.” And then he began to move a lot faster, and you did your best to keep your gaze up on him, but you had to squeeze your eyes shut when he thrusted your mouth to the base of him.

He held you there until you could open your eyes. And he growled down at you when you looked up at him. “How can you look so fucking sweet, even when you’re sucking cock.” He pulled you back, fingers in your hair tight but not pulling. Just securing, keeping you steady in his grip. “A fucking perfect whore.”

You moaned around his cock, his words only stirring the flame in your belly. You didn’t move to touch yourself, and the second time he pulled you to the base, you felt tears beginning to leak from your eyes.

And he kept going. Fucking you until tears were running down your face. Letting his balls slap against your chin, as he kept going. Faster and faster. He looked ragged with each thrust, teeth bared, spit going down his chin, and hair dishevelled.

Finally he pulled back, removing the hand from your jaw. “Tongue out.” And you rolled it out, feeling him press the tip of his cock against it. “You’re going to swallow all that I give you. And you’re going to tell me thank you after you do.”

He jerked himself off, letting out a horrible groan before he shot his load onto your tongue. Some shooting off onto the edges of your mouth, a little on your cheeks. You waited until he was painting, moving back to let go of your hair. And then you raised a hand from his thigh, to swipe all of his cum into your mouth.

You swallowed, showing him your empty tongue afterwards. “Thank you, sir.”

He was on his knees next, pulling you against him. He kissed you, deeply and without a doubt he’d be able to taste himself. But he didn’t seem to care, as he hungrily went for your mouth.

“Was that too rough?” He asked when he pulled away, lips swollen, his voice surprisingly soft after everything. And his cheeks still carrying that slight red hue.

You smiled. “Perfectly rough.” Your voice was a little hoarse now, you realized with a bit of warmth to your cheeks.

He took a few minutes, holding you. Checking over your jaw, throat and hair. Pressing kisses along your face.

And when you did rise, he bent you over his desk, and fingered you until you cried his name.

–

You were against the wall. Silco was pressing so deeply into you, as he fucked you. Only your hands tied, as you locked your legs around him. Tonight, there was less play. He had needed to destress, and you were willing to help him.

His face was buried in your shoulder, kissing and nuzzling into it as he thrusted slowly into you. And your heart burned at the affection. You hadn’t seen this man’s face, didn’t know his name, but you knew you already cared about him.

you met the slow kiss back. Your bound hands tracing what you could with your fingers onto his chest.

His hand came up to your head, and at first you didn’t feel it. The way the soft fabric came off, as he brushed his hands along there. An action so full of affection, you could hardly believe it. If he had felt himself taking off the blindfold, you were sure he hadn’t known.

But your eyes open automatically when it was removed, blinking into the barely lit room. And you could see that one of his eyes was closed, as he pressed another kiss to your mouth. The black and red eye of Zaun stared down, not at your eyes while the other was closed.

Silco.

There was only a little panic in your heart, but he must’ve known something had gone wrong. Because he looked up.

And then he slipped out of you, backing away. You slid down to the floor, wincing as you hit it. Your breathing heavy as you watched the man who had been your lover for the past few months. Silco. The king of Zaun.

“Silco,” You tried to call gently, but he looked even more panicked at that. It took him a moment to gather his things, and you could see him. Naked and pale, with wiry muscle around his limbs. “Wait-”

He did not wait. Once he had his trousers back on, and slid on a dress shirt, the mask he wore out was set in place. And he quickly escaped from the room.

Leaving you alone. Naked and tied.

–

“Are you sure?”

You gave a small nod. Then began to strip yourself off. And Silco watched, gaze eager as each new bit of your body was exposed to him. He had seen it all before, but you supposed it had been a while.

Once you were nude, you moved onto his bed. He had remained fully clothed at your request. And he held the small ball of rope in his hands. You held out your arms, pressing your wrists together.

He leaned down, and pressed his lips along your wrists before he grasped hold of them. “So perfect.” He whispered so softly, you weren’t even sure if you were meant to hear that. Still he gently drew the ropes around your arms. The ones he had bought were much softer than the ones at the club.

Carefully he tied the ropes along your wrists, wrapping them tightly together. “Too much?” he pressed a kiss against your arm. You wiggled your fingers against the bonds.

“No, good.” Not cutting off any circulation, but Silco still checked for any signs of that happening. Then he tied them off, and grabbed a second piece of rope. Looping it around your chest once, and then around your waist, before looping it over your shoulders.

You could feel the bottom rope pressing into your tits, making them push up a little. And once he ensured the rope was not too tight, he moved back to admire his work.

“Beautiful.”

Your face grew warm. And he moved, pressing you further back into the bed. His mouth was on your own, a few kisses shared, before he moved it to your neck. And you gasped at the feel of his teeth. “My beautiful darling.” He remarked, before moving to the other side of your neck, sucking a dark mark into your skin this time.

“Sir.” You whined, already feeling the small struggle around your bonds. Your neck rolled, as he toyed with the rope at your shoulder. “Silco.”

A hand slid up along your leg, moving along to your inner thigh, and pressing until you were spreading your legs apart. “How long do you think it’ll take before you beg for my cock?” You gave a small pleased noise, as his fingers rubbed along your cunt. Then his free hand came onto your face, not quite a slap, but it warmed your skin still. “How long, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know, sir-” Your hips rolled against his hand, and he didn’t even seem to mind, moving to curl a finger into you. You gasped. “Soon.”

You watch as he laughed, the way his forehead wrinkled and his eye showed the smile. And you did not look away, even when he leaned forward to kiss your mouth again, shoving a second finger in to join the first. Curling them against your g-spot, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the wet noise of your cunt.

When he added a third finger to your folds, you whined. He pulled his mouth away, panting as he gazed down at you. And he did not look away. Suddenly you were met with probably how he had felt when you had let him fuck your face a few days ago.

“Silco.” You gasped, shutting your eyes as he began to curl all three fingers against that spot inside of you, knuckle deep in you as he focused on that spot.

“Open your eyes.” You did, and he was still gazing down at you. His breath coming out in pants. “I want you to look at me. I want to see you when you break.”

You whined his name next, but kept your eyes open. His face watching your own, carefully, and after a minute he added a few swipes of his thumb onto your clit. Your back arched into it, grinding your hips against his hand, and you did your best to meet his gaze, until your orgasm was on you and you could barely open your eyes.

His fingers worked you through it, only leaving once you were sated, feeling the wetness grow on the bed. He raised his hand up, and you watched as he sucked each of the three fingers clean. He then moved himself closer between your legs.

“I think next time I tie you up, I’ll see how many times you cum with my tongue on your clit.” He rocked his hips against your own, and you panted, feeling how his cock was hard underneath the trousers, as it nudged against your pussy. “Would you like that, slut?”

“Yes.” You cried, back arching. “Yes, sir. Please.”

He reached a hand down to undo the buttons on his pants. And you could see him drawing out his cock, moving it forward. He left it at your entrance, and instead his hands found your thighs. His voice became a growl, as he moved, pushing your thighs back, so your knees were pressing into your chest. “I’m going to ruin you. I’m going to fill you with my cum, and later, I’ll fuck your ass and fill it too.”

You whimpered, but you had already known that was going to happen. You had planned out this play with him yesterday.

When he rocked his hips inside of you, you moaned. His face came down, hovering above your own as he bottomed out in one smooth thrust. He cursed, gritting his teeth. His hands pressed into your thighs hard enough that you were sure there would be bruises.

And then he pulled back, until the tip was left in you, before he thrusted fully back inside of you. And it was almost painful, how hard he began to fuck you. You let out a cry, as he began a brutal pace.

There was little you could do, but take what he gave you. Your hands clenched around nothing, as you tried to move. You managed to lean forward, growing closer to his mouth with your own. And he slid his tongue into your mouth before he let you kiss him. And even then it was only for a few moments before he ripped his mouth away.

“Such a filthy, fucking, whore.” He punctuated each word with a thrust of his hips, slamming them against your thighs. And you were damn near ready to scream, as he kept going after that.

“Going to fucking fill you.” He hissed, moving to nip at your jaw. “Been waiting for this for months.”

He angled his hips slightly differently, and you did scream this time. His name tumbling off your lips as his cock rubbed right against that spot. Your neck arched, and he kept going. Rubbing his cock right against that spot, like he was looking for it with every thrust. And you were still sensitive from his fingers finding that spot.

“That’s it! Cum on my cock, sweetheart.” He gripped his hands harder on your thighs, pressing them down. “Let everyone hear that you're mine.”

It took two more thrusts, and you cried out his name. Thighs trembling against his hands, and your eyes staring at him blearily, as you saw stars.

He was right behind you, a few more thrusts and he pressed himself as deep as he could, a loud groan falling from his mouth. And after a moment, he ran his hands carefully up along your thighs, trying to soothe where he had dug his hands in.

He pulled out, and you could feel his seed leaking out of you. You watched, body covered in sweat as he reached into the nightstand, and pulled out a knife. He cut carefully away at the rope, kissing the skin that was exposed. Then he carefully placed it back, and moved to kiss you. Much more tenderly this time.

He rolled you away from the mess on the bed, and grabbed a piece of cloth off the floor to clean you both off with. Then he simply held you, gathering you in his arms. Kissing softly at your face and neck. “How was that?”

“Good.” You managed to say, pressing a kiss back to his cheek. “Maybe a lot better than good.”

He hummed, smiling. “I would say it was perfect.” He ran a hand over your cheek, before he cupped it. “I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go now.”

You smiled, tender as you leaned into his touch. “Good. Because you’re mine.” He smiled at that. “And I’m yours.” You kissed once more, before you ran a hand down his chest. Gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “Do you still need a few hours?”

You grinned at his expression.

[vechkinfan]

Jack

A/n: I found this little one shot while I was looking through the deep dark depths of my google docs the other day and figured I might as well share it. Its a young Joker fic, and my fist time writing for the joker so please take it easy on me!😁

Pairing: Joker x OFC

Summary: A brief glimpse into the Jokers past, memories that he would rather keep buried, memories that reminded him of someone that held his heart. A heart that now burned for Gotham's reckoning.

Warnings: Talks of abuse, swearing, angst, vague talk of death

Jack found himself climbing the dirty, half rotten stairs of his apartment building. The light bulbs on every other floor, blown out or stolen, casting a darkness over him as he made his way up. 

His mother had one of her 'friends' as she liked to call them, over. So he made himself scarce for the afternoon, like he always managed to. Jack weaseled his way out of the apartment when those creeps were over. Especially the ones who would come right in and give him those looks. Those perverted sideways eyes when his mother was too plastered to notice any different. Looks that sent a piercing shiver across his whole body, and an uneasiness to settle in his gut.  He much preferred the men who would come over and pretended like he didn't exist. 

The sun had long since started to sink in the sky  as he climbed the stairs towards home and Jack knew he had to make it before the streetlights in the narrows started to flicker. The evil in his apartment was one thing, but the evils that lurched about once all the sunlight was extinguished in the sky was much more frightening. 

Rounding the last flight of stairs, his eyes landed on a girl  sitting at the top of them. Her back pressed against the door jam of the closest apartment door.  One foot stretched out in front of her blocking his path and the other bent, shaking vigorously on the next step down. 

She was sucking on a red popsicle, as her fingers drummed against the skin of her knee that poked free from a hole in her ratty jeans. 

Jack knew she just moved in a few months back, but he never crossed paths with her before now. However every time he opened the door to let in one of his mothers 'friends', she would be sitting at the top of those stairs. Usually a pack of playing cards in her hands, flicking them one by one, aimlessly down to the next landing. 

"What flavor is that?" Jack asked, curious at what her voice would sound like. He'd been intrigued by her presence the moment he saw her all those weeks ago. 

Pulling the half melted popsicle from her mouth, the girl turned her head slightly to gaze towards him. Her dark brown hair in a curly mess that covered half of her face, but not enough for Jack to miss the darkness of her left eye. It almost appeared black, the deep brown of her iris engulfing her pupil, giving her a truly ominous appearance. 

"Cherry." She answered, her voice nothing what he expected. It held a delicate raspiness, nowhere near the point where it matched Ms. Emerson two floors up who had been smoking 3 packs a day since the depression. There was a softness to it though, one that made Jack want to hear more from her.  "You live in the apartment cross from me don't you?" 

Nodding his head, Jack shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "Sure do." 

She sat in silence after that, and he stood a few stairs below quietly staring at her. His feet shuffling against the creaky old floor board, wondering if this would be the end of their talk. Perhaps it'd be the last time they spoke at all. Jack knew the Narrows had people shuffling around from place to place, like one of them scam shell games. She very well could be gone by morning. 

 "I can bring you one next time…. If you want?" Swinging her leg around, she sat so she was facing him. Both feet planted one step down as she licked the red sugary liquid that was starting to drip down the wooden popsicle stick and onto the top of her hand. 

"I got two left in the freezer." Her voice was soft and held a nervousness that made fighting off a sly grin for Jack very difficult.  

"Yeah, I'd like that." Hustling up the stairs, Jack found himself sitting down beside her. 

His eyes getting a better glance at the girl, in the low light of the stairwell. Now he could tell she was using her hair to hide the right side of her face. Her right eye was an awful shade of purple, and the lid swollen so badly Jack knew she must be having a hard time seeing. 

As he let his eyes pan across her face, he noticed her lip that was stained with cherry popsicle was also busted open. The girl next to him seemed to have come from a similar home as himself. It was near luck that Jack hadn't gotten his ass handed to him by one of his mother friends in a while. Talking back was a habit that he couldn't quit no matter how much he was beaten for it. Not to mention the fit of laughter that usually escaped his thin lips as a belt or a fist swung in his direction didn't help either. 

"You got a name?" He asked, finally dragging his eyes back to meet her dark gaze. 

"Billy." 

Furrowing his brow and giving his head a subtle tilt, he wondered if she was fucking with him.

"That's a boy's name." He puffed out a small laugh. However the girl beside him didn't react at all. 

"I know, you don't gotta remind me." She shrugged her shoulders, before finishing off the popsicle and throwing the wood stick down the stairs. 

"It's  your nickname right?" Jack couldn't quite stop himself with the questions. Usually he kept to himself and avoided people, but she…  there was just something  different about her. Something that drew Jack in like a moth to a flame. 

He knew his interest was purely the result of her moving directly across the hall and appearing to be close to his age, if she had moved three flights up and was a little frilly girl, Jack was sure he wouldn't have even batted an eyelash in her direction as he carried on home. 

Shaking her head and rolling her eye, she was the one to laugh now. "No, my momma lost her first baby, who was a boy when he was real little. She ain't been right in the head since." Jack watched as she picked at the frayed edge of the side pocket of her faded army green vest while she spoke. "So when she found out she was having me, she just knew I was a boy. The doctors told her different, but she didn't really care what they thought. So she named me Billy." 

Shoving her hands into her vest pockets now, she quickly pulled out her deck of cards and began to shuffle them absentmindedly. 

"Billy's not a bad name, I mean there was Billy the kid that robbed banks in the old west right? Like some badass cowboy outlaw… Maybe one day I could live up to that name." Jack's eyes watched as she expertly flipped the cards against themselves, the loud noise filling the hallway. 

"Hate to break it to you, Billy the kid never robbed banks. He's just known for murdering people."

Peering up at him from the corner of her eye, her posture deflated, "Oh…." Billy sighed. 

They sat there in silence after that, Jack feeling some form of regret telling her about Billy the kid. The girl had seemed thrilled in her blissful unawareness, so happy with only a shared name that connected the two. Which was utterly ridiculous, and in any other circumstance Jack would have enjoyed watching the girls dreams come crashing down from the clouds. However it was like a small light had been snuffed inside of her and Jack hated that he caused that. Which blew his mind, cause why would he care about some girl he just met and her no good thoughts. She'd be gone in a few weeks, out of his life for good! The narrows would swallow her up just like it did the other kids, and he really shouldn't have cared. But he did on some level, and it fucking bothered him. 

"Billy where the fuck you at, you little piece of shit?" An angry voice screamed from just beyond the door she had been leaning against. The abruptness caused the girl to flinch and drop the stack of cards she was holding. 

They fell like dominos down the stairs, fluttering off in all sorts of directions. Making a fucking mess. 

Jack watched as she threw herself off the steps and down the stairs chasing after all the playing cards. "Fuck I'm gonna be in so much trouble." She muttered to herself as she frantically began the daunting task. 

Without much thought, Jack did something that surprised himself again. He stood up and grabbed a few of the cards that had fallen towards the top of the stairs. Bunching them together in his hand, before looking down at the Ace of hearts that was face up. The corner dog-eared like a well read book, from constant use probably. 

"I said where the fuck you at girl." A man ripped the door open to her apartment, and stumbled out. The stench of bad tequila filling the air almost immediately.

"I-im I'm sorry I…" Billy stuttered out as she crawled on the ground grabbing the last of the cards.  Her hands trembled bad enough that Jack could tell from where he stood that she was terrified. 

Eyeing the man cautiously, Jack saw him take a step closer to the edge of the stairs. His arm raised slightly, fingers twitching, ready to strike her hard when she finally made her way back to him. 

"Sorry, I tripped into Billy while I was coming down the steps. Made her drop her cards." Jack lied with a laugh, and held up the few in his hands. "I was just helping her pick them up." 

The drunken slob of a man, took a steadying breath, probably knowing he couldn't pummel a kid that wasn't his own. The man's overtly round face, covered in a patchy beard and a badly trimmed mustache that had the remnants of cheese puffs littered throughout it, gave Jack a nasty look. His lip turned up in pure disgust. 

"Yeah well watch where you fucking walk next time." He flicked his hand at Jack, and then turned his attention to Billy. Who was now standing up straight at the bottom of the landing, cards in hand. "You, " He pointed at her with a chubby accusatory finger, "pick up your goddamn mess and get in the house, and don't make me fucking tell you again." 

Jack watched as the man turned ungracefully on his heel and stumbled back from the pit in which he came. Slamming the door behind him with such power, some of the cracked plaster on the ceiling fell to the floor.

"You didn't have to lie." 

"I know." He heard her take a few hesitant steps up, until she was standing side by side with himself. "I ain't in the mood to watch an ass kicking at the moment." He couldn't stop the tiny laugh that escaped him at his own humorless joke. 

Tilting his head towards Billy, he finally held out the few cards that he managed to collect. She greedily took them back into her possession, and Jack watched as the girl seemed to be counting them to herself. Her fingers flipping past each number making sure they were all accounted for. 

"Thank you." Her voice was softer than anything Jack had ever heard as she finished what she was doing and tucked the cards back into her vest pocket. 

"He hit you a lot?" Jack asked aloud, as the girl pushed past him and towards her apartment door. 

Shrugging her shoulders, Billy nodded her head. "Not as much as my real dad did, so I'm lucky enough. I know some kids got it worse than me, so I'm not complaining."

"Lucky?" He quirked a brow at her choice of words. Luck was nowhere to be seen in the Narrows, especially not in that girls apartment. 

Perhaps the girl had been struck in the head so many times it actually made her dense. It wouldn't be a surprise to him if that was the case, because no one, and he meant no one, would ever call themselves lucky with the life she seemingly led. 

"You got to believe in something, right?" She smirked. "Luck seems more plausible than some god or a superhero saving me. Plus I got this." Reaching back into her pocket the girl drew out a single card, and quickly flicked it over to him.

Jack caught it and huffed an amused laugh. His eyes falling upon the joker card that belonged to her deck. The jester was skillfully juggling three knives while he balanced with one foot on a large green and purple circus ball. The character itself was off putting, his face painted white, his lips smudged with red paint  that made his maniacal grin even more pronounced. His jester hat constructed out of oddly colored rattlesnakes, multiple wrapped around one another to give its iconic shape. Their rattling tails hung as the bells at the tips. It was clearly far from the typical playing card one could get at the Bodega down the block. 

"It's my lucky card, bad things don't happen as often when I have it on me." 

Jack couldn't help but continue to stare at it. The wheels in his mind spun endlessly with hundreds of questions, but he knew he'd never have time to get them answered. She was on borrowed time as it was, and he didn't want to hold her up further. Cause if he did, the girl probably wouldn't be able to see at all next time he ran into her. The guy inside, smashing her other eye to the point it was swelled shut as well. 

Looking up into her eyes, Jack attempted to hand it back. But Billy just shook her head at him. 

"You keep it, it's the least I can do after you saved my ass. Maybe it will bring you some luck." She smiled at him before turning and opening her apartment door making her exit. 

"If you give me this, won't your luck be gone?" His words stopped her in her tracks. But all Jack could focus on was her soft laughter.

Without turning to face him, she pulled another card free from her pocket, twisting it expertly between two fingers so the face of it was in Jack's direction. An inverted match to the very card that he held in his hands. "There's always two jokers." 

Just as quick as she pulled it free, Billy shoved it back into her pocket, "See you around." She chuckled before disappearing into her apartment. Leaving Jack alone in the stairwell, staring quizzically at the place the girl once was. His lip twitching up in amusement, before he shook his head clear of their encounter. 

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The joker cracked an eye open as he startled awake. It was a rare occurrence in recent years that his dreams would startle him out of sleep. That was only reserved for a specific time in his life, and that was not now anymore. 

His half sleep blurred vision instantly focused on the ever growing water stain that was spreading across the ceiling tiles. It's dark brownish edges tainting the once white paint, giving the already run down room a greater sense of abandonment. 

His hand stretched out wantingly, his long fingers gripping into the cool sheets of the spot next to him. The spot that had been vacant for many years now. An emptiness that slowly consumed him in absolute sorrow, and then engulfed him in a burning rage, no one could ever put out. 

It was a pain that radiated through the Joker like a poison when his mind traveled to her. Pleading for him to remember, remember a time when things were pleasant. When she was by his side, and in his bed, places he could keep her safe. 

But he couldn't, the day Gotham took her from him was the day its reckoning started. They would all pay, every last one of them.

[touchstarvedsam]

I was really gonna ignore that "superior"natural thing but I saw that they seem to have some talented artists. So I thought maybe they are doing something interesting (even if it's destiel) so I checked out their Google doc and omg I'm HOWLING! Eileen calls Sam moosie, Cas calls Dean squirrel. Dean calls Cas kitten, Sam calls Eileen otter. They say it's just a incollection of ideas that might not make it into the project, but you get a sense of what you're dealing with there. And this is from1/?

A brief perusal to see how much attention Sam gets compared to Dean & Cas (a word search gave 27/87/100 results for each respectively, so not too much attention to Sam. But sure, Sam is the favorite character of some of their writers). I'm sure a deeper reading will unearth more (like, Dean saying you are home to Cas, who says we're not at the bunker, Dean replies but you are home. That sounds like something Dean would say. And Dean wishes a tulpa into existence 'cause he misses Cas too much)2/?

They say they want to eliminate plot holes but it seems what's a plot hole depends on whether it serves their ship: purgatory stays (we know they love that arc) even if it makes no sense for Crowley and Cas to go through that much in S6 when apparently there are many ways in and out. Cas, the guy who failed at almost everything he's done, is a "master strategist". Every other retcon of later seasons stays as long as it serves ship purposes. Sam gets his fair share of attention but Dean is the3/?

One who teaches Cas about being human including the textures of food (Sam and Cas pbj moment erasure) and Cas should be the one to teach Jack about his powers (no mention of Sam and Jack's relationship). Other ooc things: Cas rides a bike and when Dean asks says it reminds him of flying. After Cain, Dean takes Cas to the farm for bees (?). Cas and Dean snuggle. Knowing Cas is alive gives demon Dean strength to fight to be cured? Dean speaks enochian to Cas. Cas making a mixtape for Dean. 4/?

Cas being in regarding Dean. "Baby jack walking around in cas’s trench coat going “I’m an angel”." Home alone type ep with Jack. Dean kissing cas's forehead when he's dead in 13.01. Crowley is Jack's godfather and gets him a hellhound pet. Sam has a pet fish? Dean sings you're my sunshine to Cas as he sleeps. "Uncle Gabe". Apparently John dropped Sam and Dean off at Bobby's all the time? I don't think this is canon? Keep 15.18 but change 19&20 (of course). There's no drama or angst like 5/?

Kevin's death or Crowley's death or anything that might add tension to the story. Unless of course it serves the ship so plenty of trauma for Cas including darkness (from the empty) and sharp objects (from Naomi). A small mention of Sam's trauma with Lucifer, thank God, but it's interesting that they have so little Sam. They can say they'll flesh out more arcs for Sam but it's clear he's not a priority from how he's not present where he should be. For example, Dean will explain everything 6/?

To Mary and break her out of her brainwashing. But where's Sam? She's his mother too. Other than Eileen Sam's most meaningful relationship seems to be with his pet fish (still confused about that). Even if this project gets better in the future, which I doubt, it's clear what the direction here is. It baffles me that they think this is superior to the show we have, as problematic as the show is. I wish them best of luck but I don't have any high hopes for this. Thanks for the laughs though. 7/7

Sorry for that long ass rant in your inbox. It's in the middle of the night but I'm cackling after reading their doc and I had to share it with someone. I thought you might find it amusing as well. Hopefully all my asks go through. On the one hand, I feel bad hating on a fan project. But the way they've positioned it ("superior"), the blatant disrespect to Sam, and all the shit their side has pulled since the finale (and long before that) has really irked me. Again, sorry.

I just- this whole thing was a whirlwind of nonsense, it took me a whole week to process it. I don’t even know where to start here, or if I want to just yeet my laptop out my bedroom window into the snow. They really consider their ideas superior to the original show? More like Inferiornatural, to be honest. Superinferiornatural? They can’t even seem to characterize them correctly, let alone come up with a decent plotline or idea.

So we’ll start with the nicknames, since that is where you started. The whole thing is painfully out of character, but the worst (and funniest) of them all is Dean calling Cas “kitten,” I might actually laugh myself into an early grave with that one. Dean gives nicknames to shorten people’s names (besides Sam; Sammy is the only person who gets an extended nickname). He’s not going to give someone a longer nickname than the original nickname he uses for them! And Cas wouldn’t actually give nicknames, especially not giving Dean the nickname Crowley gave him??? Otter?! Moosie?!  W H A T. Can we move on from grade school kiddie crush nicknames?

I’m currently manifesting Dean saying “kitten” in his gruff voice with that lip curl he does sometimes and I’m cracking up about it. Thanks for the amusement, heIIers.

Of course Sam would only be mentioned 27 times to Cas’ 100 because Sam means nothing to them. He’s only ever either been in their way or a cheerleader for that horribly characterized ship of theirs. I just love how, in order to make DestieI, they have to butcher the characters so irreparably that they’re unrecognizable. Good for them, they can’t even have fanfiction of their ship where the characters keep their canon personalities. 10/10 would laugh at again.

I love the Sam erasure. It’s true to the heIIers’ character at least. They’re a one-trick pony. I’m so used to it by now that I’m totally desensitized to their bullshit. But Dean speaking Enochian? What? When and how did he learn that? I can’t see Dean in his 30s sitting there willingly to learn the language of the angels. Not even if his “kitten” is the one to teach him. Dean doesn’t give a fuck about that. If any of them is going to learn Enochian, it’ll be Sam, and they can fight me on that. I will kick anyone’s ass that argues.

I hope the mixtape Cas makes for Dean is just 4 hours of that Spaghetti song by The Wiggles because Cas sucks at doing human things.

I’d love to see the Sam erasure in the Regarding Dean one. Just swap Sam out for Cas? So Cas is the only one Dean recognizes? Hmm. Where would Sam go? A smoothie place? Yeah, as if Dean would remember the angel who he’d barely known for 8 years at that time over Sam who he’d known since he was 4 years old, lol. Sure, Jan.

The entire 5th ask is WILD, nonnie. A pet fish? Dean singing you are my sunshine? Dean kissing Cas’ forehead? LMFAO. Crowley is Jack’s godfather. The KING OF HELL is Jack’s GODfather. I’m- hgfjdksl I’m sure Dean who was ripped apart by hellhounds would love for Jack to have a pet hellhound. Yeah. Absolutely. “Uncle Gabe” yeah, fuck that guy in particular. Honestly, I’m surprised they haven’t erased Eileen to make SabrieI endgame in their fic. SabrieI is the Sam version of DestieI. It’s just as nasty and abusive :) which was why the heIIers ship it. They’re into abuse. It’s their shtick.

I do wonder what the point of the fish is... Sam has always loved and wanted a dog... you’d think they’d give Sam a dog... but I forgot they don’t pay attention to the show unless the episode has Mushy in the credits. I literally saw a heIIer say they skipped episodes if Mushy wasn’t in the credits... so they don’t know how to characterize Sam or Dean, but from this message they don’t even know how to characterize Cas who seems to be their precious uwu baby angel so I’m not surprised. I can’t wait for them to start releasing this shitshow. It makes for good fodder to make fun of them all over again. They really watched a grand total of 146 out of 327 episodes and thought, “Yeah, my opinion about the show definitely matters,” and I think that’s fucking hilarious.

Sorry for taking so long to respond! Hope I did a good job, nonnie. <3

[fairytellerxo]

It’s been a long while but I’m back to clearing out drafts and folders. Between here and google docs, it’s out of control.

This is Colel ‘Nicole’ Oceteva and The Reyes boys. It’s a draft of a draft that I had already posted but I’m thinking of turning it into a series of one shots. Just to see if her and Angel get nastier and if she can crack through EZs vanilla shell.

-

“You spit in the mouth of a cartel hit man’s niece,” EZ whispered to his brother. “If he finds out, you’re fucking dead Angel.”

Angel scoffed as he stubbed his cigarette out. “Who’s gonna tell him? Only three of us know that and I know the three of us won’t be airing that shit out. I was gonna tell the boys but I guess there goes that fun. Would’ve for sure been a good fucking story to share with them.”

“EZ,” Bishop stopped at the pair. “You’re first up on protection. I trust that Nicole will be in good hands with you.” He nodded. “Nicole, that’s EZ, Angel’s brother.”

Nicole grinned. “Nice to meet you,” she shook his head. “Like I told my tio, I don’t really need to be protected, I'm fine.” She took a seat and watched Bishop wall away before turning her attention to Angel. “So, a Mayan huh?” She pulled on the front of his kutte. “All makes sense now, the Harley in the driveway and the tattoos.”

Angel smirked. “There wasn’t too much downtime to swap life stories.”

“Just enough time to swap other things,” she smiled. “So, any chance at a packaged deal. I mean come on, brothers? Need it.”

“Okay, no.” Ez looked at his brother. “I’m not doing it.”

“We don’t even have to make eye contact,” he looked at Nicole. “Right?”

She nodded slowly. “Come on, you only live once.” She looked at EZ. “We can give you a safe word.”

“How is this a thing?” He stood up. “Come on, we’re leaving. I’ve got stuff to handle. You good with being on the back of a bike?”

“I’d let him handle me.” She smirked at Angel before standing up. “Can he come too?”

EZ shook his head. “Only if you two stop being weird together.” He shrugged. “I cannot deal with two of you Angel.”

Angel leaned closer to Nicole. “I told him about the spit thing, he’s being a hater now.”

“Did you tell him about the thumb thing?” She smiled. “That was life changing wasn’t it?”

“Oh man, the thumb thing,” he smiled. “Bro, you gotta try the thumb thing.”

EZ sighed. “No, I don’t want to hear anything else. Why don’t we find out why she needs to be protected before you two start organizing an orgy with Coco and Creeper.”

.

.

“I never thought we’d cross paths again.” Nicole looked at Angel. “I guess the world had different plans. It’s nice to see a familiar face though. Even if we just met, fucked and fucked again while your brother ran to the store.”

Angel laughed as he offered the brunette his cigarette who waved it off. “Ez is uptight, sort of vanilla. He just needs the right one to bring him to the dark side.”

“He needs to experience the thumb.” She chuckled. “That’ll help him out a ton.” She sat up and stretched her arms above her head. “Is he always super serious about this kind of stuff? Club duties?”

“He is, he takes it serious but usually I can get him to lighten up or vice versa if it’s me taking it too serious.” He stood up and looked at her. “So what’s your deal huh? You didn’t seem like the type who’d need protection when we met.”

Nicole shook her head. “I got home Sunday evening, I hopped in the shower, got into some fresh clothes, crawled into bed and about two hours later, I hear my dad come home, he calls out to me, ‘Colel, I’m home mamas!’ I call back, acknowledge it. So an hour goes by, I hear glass shattering, I go on alert and I check the cameras from my phone, see about four guys and I grab my gun and I go into hiding. My dad told me to never try to confront any intruders and to always save myself. So that’s what I did but when I slipped out of the house, someone shot at me. So they knew someone else was home. Miguel and Nestor think that I’ll be a target.” She shrugged. “My dad’s dead and I officially am all alone in the world.”

“Damn, I am sorry,” Angel rubbed his forehead. “I know what it’s like to lose a parent. That shit isn’t fun at all.”

“I’ll be good,” She shoved her feet into her sneakers. “What is there to do around here? I’m not even local I live in Mexico.”

EZ walked in and frowned. “You can’t leave, I’m not getting my ass handed to me.” He shook his head. “Do you play cards?”

Nicole dropped down to the sofa. “I play rummy or strip poker, no in between.” She smirked at EZ. “You can stand to loosen up and have fun. I’ve only known you for a few hours and you’re way to analytical and are in your head way too often. Relax and let me ruin your life just a bit, I promise it’ll be fun.”

“Listen, there’s nothing wrong with being analytical, I can have fun too.” He set the bag of groceries on the coffee table. “I got snacks, I figured since you’re the female version of Angel, you’d like the same snacks he does.”

“Look at him being an asshole,” she smirked at Angel. “It was shitty of you to assume that I would like the same snacks as him because I let him spit in my mouth.”

“Can we not say that anymore,” EZ sat down. “It’s just a weird mental image. Even weirder than the time Angel tried to stick his dick in a body less head.”

Nicole irked a brow at EZ. “Tell me all about it.” She smiled. “Was it like a prop head or something?”

“Yeah, was it a prop head?” Angel looked at his brother. “I’m all ears.”

“It was not,” He shrugged. “It was a real human head.”

“One time I saw my dad behead someone,” She shrugged. “I was sixteen and thought I’d be traumatized but I slept fine.”

Angel nodded eagerly. “I am turned on by that.”

“As I say, to each their own,” she smiled at EZ. “Come on what’s your kink?”

EZ blushed slightly before shrugging. “I don’t know, never really explored.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Did eight years in jail, so I lost out.”

“You probably would do well with a girl who dresses up,” she smiled. “Baby steps.” She squeezed his thigh. “Makes sense why you don’t like to talk sex stuff, you gotta have fun and explore! There’s so much out there, spanking, hair pulling, biting, smacking, wax play. Oh do you have a candle? It’s harmless.”

“Here ya go,” Angel passed Nicole a candle and lighter. “Do what you gotta do, I am gonna check in with Bish, see why they’re calling me like crazy.”

“Relax,” she set the candle down and looked at EZ. “I am not gonna do anything to you. We’ll play cards or something innocent.” She shrugged. “I see that you’re kinda shy but it’s cool.”

EZ nodded slowly. “I’ll start a movie, then we can start cards. Who even knows how long we’ll be stuck together.”

She shrugged again as she toed off the sneakers. “I could use the company, I don’t have a home to go back to just yet. It’s a crime scene.” She grabbed the deck of cards from beneath the table. “Sorry for the whole weirdness thing with me and Angel. I’ll tone it down when you’re around.”

“It’s not weird to hear him talk about sexual stuff, it’s just weird to see that he found someone just equally as nasty as him. No offense meant though.” He chuckled. “It’s cool though, never seen him look so dumb and happy. It’s only been like three days so I don’t know what to make of it.”

Nicole smiled. “Never thought I’d see him again but I’m not upset that life had our paths cross again. I can get to know him for real and I’m excited for it. Hell, I learned that he’s into necrophilia and that’s not the weirdest kink I’ve dealt with personally.”

“What’s the weirdest you’ve dealt with then?” He looked at her carefully. “Because necrophilia is pretty fucking weird and gross.”

“To each their own,” She shuffled the cards and shrugged. “I met a guy online, his kink was being humiliated and giving me his money. I once got money from him and all he wanted was to watch me get fucked by a dude with a bigger dock than his. I’m not a whore or whatever you’re thinking. I just am very sexually free and you should explore that side of you sometimes. Who knows, maybe you’ll like the thumb thing too.”

“Do I wanna know about the thumb thing?” EZ settled closer to her and smiled. “Because my brother is weird and it seems like it’s something weird.”

“It’s not,” She held up her thumb. “But you’re probably going to think it’s gross or whatever.” She laughed. “You just use this bad boy right here and get it a little wet with some spit and just rub circles over the asshole, it’s just an extra stimulant. If the guy or girl is more adventurous, you just slowly slip the thumb right in. You get it now. I’ll spare you more detail because you’re blushing hard as fuck.” She rubbed his cheek and smiled. “Your brother and I aren’t a thing, so if you ever wanna try the thumb thing, I’d happily introduce you to it.”

EZ nodded slowly as he let his eyes bounce between the brunette and his hands. “Yeah, I don’t think that’ll be for me but thanks.”

“Hey,” She handed him the deck of cards. “You won’t know until you try it.”

[rapunzel-withthegoodhair]

everythingsheclaimed asked you: Top 5 Daimon Helstrom moments :)

PUT “TOP 5” ANYTHING IN MY ASK AND I WILL ANSWER OK GO

Top 5 Daimon Helstrom moments...according to CJ Wingrave 

                  (listen while reading) // (google doc link for easier viewing)

I.

The air across Portland shifts firmly, as if a warm front just pushed its way in across the frigid morning cold. Not slowly, but all at once. For a moment, the friction crackles in the air. As Daimon glances up from his office desk, a flash of lightning splices through the campus. Roaring thunder soon follows and the rain that he wouldn’t know how to live without begins to splash heavily across the windows. 

Storms in the pacific northwest aren’t unusual. On average, it rains 164 days out of every year in Portland alone. But it wasn’t supposed to today. Just moments ago, the sky was clear. 

Across campus, students are already chattering about how typical it is for Oregon to flip moods on a dime. But Daimon knows the truth. The change in energy across the city is undeniable. 

After seven whole months...CJ is back. 

~~~

The circle of candles in her room flickers to life just as her body appears within it. Rings of salt and iron guard the flames, ensuring nothing crosses over with the young witch. Blonde hair covers her face and for a few long moments, CJ just lays on the hardwood. Every muscle feels like rusted metal. As if her body was burned to ashes and then baked back together all over again. 

It’s never The Fade itself that fucks with her. It’s the process of travelling between dimensions. The process of ripping open the dense fabric of space-time and shoving herself through. It’s gotten a bit easier over the years. But her body is still made of simpler things than magic. Flesh and blood and bone is never meant for a thousand rebirths in one life. 

Everything inside of her wants to get up and stagger towards her phone right this very moment. But there’s simply no way. She needs rest. 

Eleven hours later, she wakes with a start. The candles have burned themselves out. And her mind is narrowed to one thought: Daimon. 

Her legs wobble like jelly beneath her as she leans heavily against her queen-sized bed. All she wants is a shower and some food and him. 

He answers on the first ring (he always does, for her). Sitting in his home office grading papers, he’d been fighting to focus on anything that wasn’t her return home. 

“How long was I gone?” She can never tell. CJ can’t stand to be away from Daimon for longer than a week. But traveling through the fabric of space-time warps everything. The farther she travels between dimensions, the longer she’s gone, even if it only feels like a few days for her. 

Immediately his laptop is closed. Rubbing at his tired eyes, Daimon pushes himself up. His spine screams in protest, neck stiff from staring down at a computer screen all day. Wincing, he pushes stubbornly through the pain. 

“Seven months.” The words are heavy. With relief. With exhaustion. He’d wait the rest of his life to see her again if he had to. But damn if the waiting doesn’t take its toll. After all, abandonment was all he really knew before her. “Can I come see you?” 

The rain that began earlier begins to pound harder outside. Tugging his coat on, he grabs his keys without even looking for an umbrella. Nothing can keep him out of her gravitational pull. Even if she says no he’d be content to sleep in his car in the looming shadow of her apartment building. To feel what tiny seeds of her energy he can soak up now that she’s back in his atmosphere. 

“Yeah…” Gripping the doorframe to her bathroom, CJ barely makes it to the bathtub without injury. Their connection is so intense, she swears she can feel him all over her already. Strong chest pressed to the skin of her back. His delicate fingers tracing her throat. His cold nose along the back of her ear, drinking in the milk and honey scent that lingers strong after a trip to The Fade. “Yeah, I need you.” 

For the first time in seven months, a smile pulls at his stoney features and light flickers back into his stormy blue eyes. 

II.

She appears without warning.

One moment, the classroom desk in the far corner of the back row is empty. Next, CJ is soaking in the beam of sunlight falling through the windows. Sunlight is hard to come by in Portland. But CJ likes to play with the weather to fit her mood. Apparently, she’s feeling bright today. Playful.

Eyes falling on her for just a moment, Daimon doesn’t allow his lecture to skip a beat. Though a tiny smirk tugs at his mouth.

“The Greeks believed that goodness and beauty were interwoven. They were inextricable. And hey, maybe they were right. Isn’t beauty just chaos given order? Isn’t order what allows us to survive?”

“Or maybe that’s just what we tell ourselves to justify hitting on the same girl every one else is eyeing at the bar.”

The class turns to glance at her. No one has the spine to ask where the hell she came from or what her name is. But they’re all thinking it. Particularly the boys.

Arching an eyebrow, Daimon’s posture straightens slightly. He pushes away from his desk, eyes locked on her own as he responds carefully. Few students have ever dared to interrupt him during lectures. If she were anyone else, they’d be sorry for trying. But CJ’s mischievous side is his greatest weakness.

“It’s interesting...we’re always so arrogant to assume beauty is about us. Isn’t...a neatly pruned orchard beautiful? A well built house?” Glancing casually across the sea of students, he shrugs. “Do we not crave order? Is this not what keeps us alive?”

“Keeps us alive for what? If not to enjoy the chaos of passion. If beauty is the key to passion, how does the argument stand? How can beauty be both order and bring chaos at the same time?” A smirk twitches over her pretty mouth, eyes dancing with his as their mental waltz dizzies the rest of the class.

For a moment, Daimon allows her words to hang in the air. He mulls them over, then ultimately shrugs.

“Clearly Miss Wingrave isn’t Greek.” A low rumble of laughter disperses the tension in the room and the two of them exchange amused smiles.

After class, she waits patiently for the other girls to finish coming up with excuses to talk to him. Stupid questions and cliché compliments, their bouncy curls twisted around manicured fingers as they giggle while he isn’t even trying to be funny. But his eyes have trouble staying away from the long legs CJ has crossed at the knees while perched on a desk in the front row. He can feel her eyes dragging over his skin, as hungry as her teeth when they’re in bed.

With a flick of her wrist, the door locks behind the last girl to leave.

He closes the space between them with purposeful steps, slowly tugging her thighs apart so as to stand between them. Cold hands hooking under her knees, he pulls her closer. Nuzzles over her forehead, into the warmth of her hair.

“You’re a  brat.” His words are a breathy laugh against her skin as a gentle kiss is dropped to hairline. Feeling her this close is to him, the same sort of relief a morphine addict feels as they finally get a needle to the arm. “And you’re so full of shit. I know you don’t believe a word you said.”

“Of course, I do.” Smirking softly, her fingers brush through his short hair, then down his shoulder. “I’m my own best evidence that beautiful doesn’t always mean good.”

“You’re plenty good.” He shakes his head in disbelief, amusement twitching at his lips. Slowly his fingers tug her ponytail undone so he can have the luxury of feeling her long, silky hair fill the spaces between his fingers.

“Only to you.” She has to admit, she’s softer with him. Softer than she even knew she could be. Anyone who only saw the side of her that Daimon brings out would never guess what she gets up to in The Fade. Or how rebelliously outspoken and impatiently abrupt she can be here.  

“Yeah, you’re right.” He sighs through a soft mumble over her skin, nuzzling into her neck, searching out the pocket of warmth there. “You can be a little bit of a monster. Like when you apparate into my classroom mid-lecture just to interrupt me.”

His words pull a laugh out of the girl as she drags a hand up and down along his spine. “I just like to watch you teach. It’s what I miss the most when I’m gone.”

Carefully, Daimon untangles himself to pull back. His brows knit together in a disbelieving (and slightly offended) look. He works hard to keep her satisfied in bed. Very hard.

CJ’s head tips back as she gives up a theatrical sigh. “Okay, the second most.”

“Better.” Playfully nipping at her lower lip, he gently curls his fingers into her hair and tugs just firmly enough to fit their mouths together in a deep kiss.

III.

It’s late when he knocks at her door. But CJ feels him the moment he enters her apartment building. His energy is low, dialed down with exhaustion after a night spent fighting and ultimately descending a particularly nasty demon. But the connection between them is like a tethered cord. The slightest tug always ripples through her body.

Reaching up on her toes, she pulls him into a warm hug. His body is colder than usual in her arms as it fights to heal from expending so much energy. She loves Louise, but this bullshit is going to get him killed. Why the woman insists her replacement be a powerless human so completely out of touch with their world of witchcraft and demonology, CJ will never understand. She’d be lying if she said being passed over for the position hadn’t stung. Though in fairness to the older woman, she’d never given Louise much reason to hope that Daimon could always rely on her presence in this realm. A month or two at home and CJ is always back to flitting between worlds.  

Pushing the troubling reminder of Gabriella away, her thoughts narrow to the simple task of making him tea. She turns to head into the kitchen and Daimon trails after her quietly, like a stray puppy in want of a home.

She cups his cheek as they stand by the stove, dragging in a slow deep breath while waiting for the kettle to warm. There are fresh lines on his face, a map of  all the stress he keeps balanced on his shoulders. Guilt tries to knock at her heart. If you wouldn’t leave him to bear the earth alone like Atlas, maybe it wouldn’t weigh so much. But she knows it’s bullshit.

She loves him. But she can’t cure Victoria or bring Ana home or turn back time on what his father did to him. Worse than any of these, she’ll never convince Louise to send Gabriella back to The Vatican. Tracing the pad of her thumb over the dark circles beneath his left eye, her features soften.

“You need sleep, baby.”

A wrinkle finds his nose. He can’t stomach the thought of wasting time sleeping while she’s home. When she may leave again tomorrow and take ten months to return. Or ten years. Or ten centuries.

“I’ll sleep when you’re gone.” His voice is soft and stubborn, but so vulnerable. The cold tip of his nose nudges into her shoulder as he curls against her. CJ’s slender arms wrap around his larger body and she tries so hard to push away the guilt his words dredge up. She tries to just hold him and love him and be here and let that be enough.

IV.

She’s the only one who ever gets his coffee order right. Double brewed, black with cinnamon stirred in. 

When he comes back to his office after class and finds the cup of Starbucks waiting on his desk next to a wax paper bag of fresh apple fritters, he knows she’s gone again. 

Leaving gifts behind like Santa is the only way she knows to stomach a goodbye. She’s never looked him in his eyes and said it. He almost wishes she would, even though he knows it would rip his heart out to hear the words aloud. At least he’d be able to see her eyes and know without a doubt that leaving hurts her too. 

V.

The water around them swirls with CBD oil, hot enough to steam up the windows of her bathroom. Her clawfoot tub easily fits both of them and a smile pulls at his mouth as he rests back against her. No one else ever lets him be the little spoon and it never fails to take the weight off of his shoulders in seconds. 

Slowly, CJ scoops up handfuls of warm water, pouring each one down over his shoulders and chest. She rubs the back of his neck carefully, thumb massaging at the tight muscles there. The candles lighting up the room flicker lightly as she pulses healing magic through his skin and down into his bones. He’s not even injured right now, and even if he were, his demon blood allows him to heal faster than her magic could ever knit muscle tissue. 

But he hasn’t been able to reach Victoria in over a month and he’s broken from the effort. She can feel it hanging heavy in his skin, making each breath feel like he’s trying to kick to the surface with rocks tied to his ankles.  

He’s tired of being alone. He’s tired of shouldering Victoria’s demons alone. He’s tired of fighting demons alone. He’s tired of dealing with family trauma that isn’t his cross to bear alone (since Gabriella seems to think it’s morally abject of him to turn those he’s helped over to her for counseling). And he’s tired of waking up in an empty bed, alone. 

Brushing a hand along her thigh, he tries to find the words. To beg her to stay. To convince her that he needs her more than any Fae or Spirit or Goddess. 

Carefully, he drags in a breath, summoning his courage. 

“I’m going to stay.” Her words are soft but clear. “I want to stay here, with you. If you’ll have me. If you promise you won't grow sick of me.” 

Her arm wraps across his shoulders and she holds him close. 

“Careful...” Slowly, a tiny smile tugs at his mouth. “ I may not let you go again. Ever.” 

He’s trying so hard not to have real hope. He trusts CJ with every fiber of his being. To catch him when he falls. To fight on his side. To hold her ground when hell comes knocking. But the part of him that’s been left behind too many times is never sure if this is the last time she’ll come home. Still, he wants to believe it so badly it aches in his bones. 

“Good…” She smiles into his neck, pressing a soft kiss there, words down to a whisper. “I won’t let you go again either.”

[overdrivels]

Even more unsolicited resume advice

Corona has probably hit a lot of people hard and it has been a tough time for everyone, especially people who just left college to enter the work force or have been out of a job and had been looking to get back into the force. While this might not solve much, I want to provide some additional advice piggy-backing off a previous post.

<Previous Resume Advice Post>

Again, Your Mileage May Vary (YMMV) since this is entirely subjective and very US-centric. A lot of the resumes that come across my desk are for specialized jobs and higher-levels, so I’ve had a bit of a disconnect with entry-level and recent grad-level resumes. Regardless, I still want to help answer some questions that people have and hopefully give a bit of a push to help you into the jobs you want.

There’s more of this sort of stuff under the tag: ‘adult drivels’.

"What do I write for my Objectives/Summary of Qualifications?"

To be very honest, I only ever see Objectives from people trying to switch careers or from internship/entry-level resumes. At least 98% of the time, we know what your objective is. It's money. I don't care if the objective is to help save the world--believe me, I've seen enough resumes that say something along those lines (worked at a place that kind of championed that and boy is the reality nasty).

Anyway. Write a short paragraph (usually 2-3 sentences, but no longer than a full paragraph) about your skillset. Give me enough detail to want to read the rest of your resume.

Examples:

Finance student with 2 years volunteer experience in business accounting, correspondences with the Federal Reserve, and federal financial law. Specializes in XYZ, etc.

I couldn't make this any more detailed, but you get the gist of it. If not, here's another one.

Recent college graduate with experience in freelance computer repairs for Windows, Mac, and RedHat Linux. Customer-oriented from # years in customer service, and willing to learn new things especially more about network infrastructure and engineering. Currently studying to pass Network and looking to pass Security+ within the next year.  

This is just a personal nitpick, but be careful with very subjective character traits like ‘loyal’ or ‘hard-working’ or ‘effective leader’. Anyone can put that on a resume, but I need you to prove it in your resume. Some industries like this sort of self-description/self-evaluation, but I really don’t trust when people write that stuff down.

(Ex. Someone wrote they were detail-orientated and their resume was littered with typos. Mm, don’t trust like that.)

"I don't know what to write for my job experience. I don't have sales numbers or percentages like these websites are telling me."

You do. You have them, just not consciously.

You worked at Starbucks and trained newcomers? Fine.

"Trained ## new hires on all store procedures, safety, and customer service, and one was promoted to store manager with # months/one new hire won Employee of the Month/and I received formal recognition from corporate."

Or

"Created new training plan/procedures/whatever and implemented it over the course of # months, reducing the time needed for training and increasing effectiveness."

Didn't work at Starbucks? Just joined a club and helped organize a bake sale? Cool.

"Sold $# worth of merchandise for [school club] [sale] which contributed to #% increase in funding for the year's activities, allowing the club to do XYZ.

Don't have the percentage? Do a reasonable guess, or ask. Or just say it helped you guys earn your field trip to wherever. Whatever it helped do.

Didn’t do anything involving cash or numbers? No problem.

“Tutored # students at least # times a week in [subject], working with them using different teaching methods such as [example] and [example]; # students were able to pass their courses with satisfactory grades (insert grades somewhere, if you’re proud of that).”

The point is: [Action] --> [Result].

What did you do, specifically? And what was the direct result? That’s what I’m looking for.

“But I’ve never held a job. This’ll be my first one. How do I write my resume?”

That’s always tough. In this case, you’ll have to play on anything you do have. Volunteer work, school activities, extracurricular activities, personal projects, awards, personal achievements, etc. Sometimes people go for a skills-oriented resume which I don’t actually see a lot.

Basically, standard resumes have your regular stuff:

Personal Information

Summary of Qualifications/Objectives

Education

Job Experiences in chronological order

Extracurricular Activities

Skills

Awards/Certifications

Whatever else

A skills based resume usually replaces the ‘Jobs’ section with a huge-ass ‘Skills Set’ section which contains several main skills you want to highlight for the job and examples of how you demonstrated these skills.

Communication

- Corresponded and tutored students struggling in [subject] class, restructuring and explaining lessons using easy-to-understand anecdotes, resulting in students passing the class with scores of no less than a B. (This is lengthy as fuck, but you get the idea.)

- Successfully led one 24-person raid a month for 2 years in an online game where quick and clear communication and timing was vital.

So, that but multiple times until it fills out your resume.

This goes against my personal opinion about subjective traits, but if it works, it works. 

“Anything else?”

I turn my entire Word document into a table for formatting and then just hide all borders when I’m done.

Always, always export to PDF and do a test print. You never know how it’ll look on someone else’s screen or program. (Especially if you have LibreOffice or something, that really messed up the formatting sometimes.) 

I kind of like Google’s resumes, the one they have in Google doc templates.

To make different things stand out, I mess with fonts. Like sans serif for section titles and with serif for body text. Sometimes I just start going nuts with them, but not too nuts because again, it might not be a font on someone else’s computer.

To test the visual appeal of my resume, I’d usually print it out, paste it on a wall, walk away, turn around, and try to see if I can spot my name and the different section breaks instantly from a distance. If I can’t, I know I fucked up. If I can, great, formatting is clean. One thing I hate as an interviewer is searching through walls of text for important info or section breaks.

If you can, only submit as PDF. I swear, half the time, the Word doc gets mangled by the application platform that people send them through (you know, the automatic uploading thing?) It had definitely cost a few good candidates a job simply because the program mangled the resume’s formatting.

Following these steps still won’t necessarily get you the job. This is cruel, but reality. It could be your resume. It could be just because the role is meant for someone else with a different skillset. It’s not personal. You have to keep trying.

For the last time, TAILOR, TAILOR, TAILOR. You’re fighting with about 30 other people who have put in a hell of a lot of effort to get jobs. They also want the job and have been searching just as long or longer than you. You have to give yourself an edge by not blasting a generic version of your resume at the recruiter. That’s wasting our time and your own time.

Again, all of these opinions are my own and should be taken with a handful of salt and two handfuls of personal judgement.

Good luck on your searches and may the job you want be yours.

[siebenschoen]

old things, half forgotten

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles

pairing: (m!detective x Ava)

warnings: none, this is more a character study of my detective than anything else; part of a February Prompt list: day 1 - love letters

I’ve been really into twc lately, so of course the first thing that popped into my mind, when I decided to follow a prompt list “make it about wayhaven! make it about wayhaven!”. So, yeah, this happend. Fair warning though, this is spell check by nothing, but google docs - it’s late and I’m tired and just so happy that I managed to write something for the first time in months.

summary: Janosch comes home. Waiting for him is a box full of memories and a very judgemental cat.

Janosch closes the door behind him and kicks his shoes off. His bag lands somewhere on the floor between the front door and the coat rack, quickly followed by his jacket. Schrödinger eyes him in his wise, judgemental way from the open kitchen door.

“What?”, Janosch asks, more harshly than intended, but Schrödinger just meows and walks off - probably to stare out of the window and plot revenge. Janosch sighs. Shit, he thinks, shit shit shit. He moves to the living room and crumbles down on the couch.

The wall next to him seems so much higher than usual, with his head hanging off from the couch, it’s a light, soft orange that he picked out with Tina back when he first started at the station and had moved into a new apartment - his home, now. He remembers how they had painted the walls together - in old t-shirts and even older jeans -, Tina had made little hats out of newspaper for them both and ABBA’s Dancing Queen had been blasting in the background. Life had been so much easier then. He hadn’t been detective and the biggest problems in his life had been a non-existing mother and an ex-boyfriend, that he desperately needed to get over, not… not whatever the fuck is going on now.

Janosch smacks his hands over his eyes and lets out a deep, deep sigh. Maybe if he just tries not to think about it- but it’s no use. And he knows that it’s no use. He is too old to try to repress his emotions until his problems go away. Not that that ever worked for him. Problems tend to stay, he finds, stay and fester and get all nasty and disgusting if nobody deals with them. So, he has to deal with them.

He sits up, slowly rubbing his forehead. The question is how. How does he deal with his problem- his… crush. Is it a crush? He’s not sure. It’s attraction, that much is certain. He finds no shame in admitting that. Ava is an attractive woman, nothing wrong with noticing that. And he enjoys flirting with her. Enjoys that he can make her blush sometimes, but enjoys it even more when she doesn’t blush, but her lips lift into what is almost a smile and her eyes twinkle with what is almost playfulness and she almost flirts back. (She enjoys it too, he thinks, hopes.)

And, yes, he does care for her and the thought of her being hurt - hurt trying to protect him - makes his chest feel too tight and the air too thin. So, yeah, it’s probably more than attraction, probably also more than a crush, but that’s a scary thought and he’s not quite there… yet. 

His gaze falls to one of the cardboard boxes that’s been pulled from the shelf and now sits in front of it. He planned on looking through that one today after work. Part of his supposedly annual cleaning regiment. Getting rid of old stuff, making room for new one. But that was yesterday evening, before Ava and he… well, before she had almost touched his cheek and he had almost kissed her and almost thought that she might want him as much as he does. (That much, huh?) Now it seems almost pointless. Why make room for the new, if the new doesn’t want to be here? But he grabs the box anyway and starts sorting through it.

It’s mostly pictures, still in their respective envelopes from then he got them printed, and he decides to keep them immediately. There’s a jar of sand that Tina had gifted him as a reminder from a holiday long, long, long ago and he looks at it for a moment. It’s just sand, he thinks. He can get into his car and drive to the beach if he regrets throwing it away too much. It lands on the steadily growing ‘keep’ pile.

Next is a little cotton bag that’s starting to fray at the edges. He turns it over and a collection of different shells falls into his lap. Some of them are broken, splintered into tiny, tiny pieces, that dust his jeans now. With a little patience he could probably glue them back together. He sighs. He is so bad at this. How is this supposed to work when he can’t even fight the urge to glue some old shells back together only to put them back into an old bag, which he’ll put into an old cardboard box never to be seen again?

He grabs a magazine - he can make out a headline about the right treatment of balcony plants in winter - from the coffee table and bushes the broken shells on it. That much he can throw away. That much at least.

He turns back towards the box, grabbing something from the bottom of it and pulling it out. It’s a small stack of notes. Shit, that’s something he hasn’t seen in a while. They are colourful pieces of square paper, the kind you keep on your desk to take notes, and he can see his own forcefully careless scrawl on it. The ink has slightly faded with the years, but not so much that he couldn’t read them anymore. “take care” reads the first one , “leftovers are in the fridge” the next one with a little star doodled in the corner, “i love you” the third.

He looks at the last one for a while. It’s a soft baby blue and the edge crumples between his fingers. It’s been years, he thinks, years. He used to leave them around the flat, when he lived together with Bobby, for him to find. He’d write them and imagine how Bobby would find them and feel loved or touched, at least. But the notes always stayed where he’d left them. At first he thought that maybe Bobby just forgot, but it was always Janosch who’d collect them at the end of the day and eventually he stopped.

He’s glad now that Bobby didn’t pick them up. He wouldn’t want him to have these now.

There’s an annoyed meow to his left. Schrödinger has returned from his plotting and is now looking at him with questioning, pale yellow eyes. “These are quite old, buddy. Older than you, I think.”, Janosch says, still holding the blue note. His cat meows again and he nods. “Yeah, I know. I’m just bad at getting rid of stuff.” He sighs. “But you’re right. It’s high time for these to leave.”

He collects the rest of the notes and moves to the kitchen - Schrödinger following and pressing against his legs, probably trying his damn hardest to make Janosch trip. He makes it in one piece though. He looks at the notes and suddenly he’s a college student again and in love and maybe-, he thinks but cuts himself off before the sting in his chest gets any worse and throws them in the bin. It’s better that way. It would have been better like this for quite a while.

Schrödinger meows up his leg. “Oh, now you are in bad need of attention? Stupid cat.”, he mutters, but picks him up and presses a kiss between Schrödinger’s ears. “I love you.” Schrödinger purrs - a little.

Janosch carries him back to the living room, ignoring the mess of envelopes and sand jars and broken shells he left behind (Because isn’t that what happens when you clean? You just make the mess worse?), and sits down on the couch. The cat, a warm, comforting weight on his lap. “You know”, he ruffles Schrödinger’s grey fur, who purrs in response, “I think she’d like them. The notes, I mean.” Schrödinger stops purring and opens his yellow eyes to judge him. Janosch laughs and then sighs. “Yeah, I have it bad.”