#and I don’t even force myself that much I’ve managed to limit it to only a couple of games so it doesn’t overpower my own stuff

[diari0deglierrori]

As much as I can enjoy the casual gaming in my day to day life I can’t let it be my main source of escape from the world because that’s when things usually spiral for me. And I’m not saying it is nor should be the same for everyone, I’m talking about me specifically. Because I know that when I focus too much on digital stuff and I’m not manually, physically creating things it usually creates a bad pattern and it’s truly not what I need rn

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 58

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words: 5k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Tuesday, February 23rd; 9:00 AM - Manchester

I finish getting ready, adjusting the suit Lucy kindly lent me as I look at myself in the mirror. The beautiful days in the snow feel like a distant memory since our return to the city. We’re back to our responsibilities after a relaxing weekend. I smile when I see Lucy approaching me in the reflection, wrapping her hands around my waist.

- "This outfit looks amazing on you."

I blush at her open compliment. I was just about to ask her how I looked, but I forgot that Lucy no longer hesitates to say what she used to keep to herself. It’s a pleasant change, considering she used to only play the serious, emotionless role.

- "Thank you... But it’s your outfit, remember?"

Not having anything suitable in my suitcase for a professional meeting, Lucy had to lend me some clothes. The only things I’m wearing that are mine are my underwear and black pants. Lucy let me borrow her little black boots, a white shirt, and her suit jacket. Fortunately, we’re the same size. I love borrowing her clothes, and the best part is, she doesn’t mind. In fact, I get the impression that she likes it.

- "Well, if it means seeing you look this stunning every time, I’ll keep lending you my clothes."

I smile shyly before leaning back slightly to find her lips. It’s almost time to leave, and it’s making me increasingly anxious. Waking up wasn’t difficult, surprisingly. I’ve been sleeping like a baby since I’ve been back in Lucy’s arms. I can’t say the same for breakfast, though. I could barely eat anything after my shower. Since we spent the last couple of days lazing around, I had plenty of time to think and prepare for my interview. I worked on it so much that Lucy had to force me to take a break, saying I was overdoing it. The problem is, I have no idea who I’m dealing with or what the outcome will be. For all I know, it could be nothing. I’m afraid of being disappointed. Lucy is very optimistic about it. She seems to expect a lot, which only adds to the pressure. I’m terrified of messing it all up with my usual clumsiness. She tried to reassure me, but it didn’t help much. She then added that I should just be myself and everything would go well. However, I rarely manage to be myself in situations like this. Panic always takes over. I wanted to know what the gallery director looks like, but Lucy told me she’s only spoken to him on the phone, though he sounded very friendly. She thinks he’s young. The fact that she simply believes in me makes my stomach turn. When I noticed she was getting frustrated with my behavior because it was affecting her, I thought back to the amazing week we just had. It was so enlightening and at the same time very soothing. I felt like I found myself again, and for the first time in a long time, I opened up. Not just to Lucy in our relationship, but also to her friends and mine. I can’t even remember the last time I so easily let people into my private circle. It was really a good idea. It even improved Lucy’s relationship with Mapi and Alexia. Thinking about all that gave me the courage I needed for what’s coming in a few hours. I’ve made progress, and there’s reason to believe in myself.

- "Are you ready?"

- "Panicked," I murmured.

- "Everything will be fine," she replies, kissing my cheek. "I’ll be waiting for you."

- "You’re going to see the girls in town, then?" I asked.

She told me she’d be meeting up with Ingrid and Mapi after exchanging messages with Ingrid yesterday. I would have loved to join them, but duty calls elsewhere.

- "Yeah, but don’t worry. Just send me a message when you’re done, and I’ll be there. And, if something positive comes out of this interview, I’ll let you celebrate tonight with no limits."

- "That’s a very dangerous comment, Miss Bronze."

- "And I’ll take responsibility for it," she smiles playfully.

- "I’ll make sure to remind you of that."

- "You’ve proven that you can be responsible, so I can make an effort too."

I smile, thinking back to Saturday night. The girls were really feeling it the next day. We haven’t seen each other since, but we’ve been texting a lot. I’m glad I stayed sober. I’ve earned some trust points with Lucy. It’s crazy how we’re all swimming in an ocean of happiness. I’m very happy, just like my best friend who’s staying with Ingrid, and Alexia with Jenni. I hope things continue this way for a long time. By the way, we’re all meeting at The United tonight. I love that place, so I was immediately up for going. I hope I’ll get a chance to let loose, especially since Lucy is allowing it. In any case, I have no choice but to ace this interview. I’m fully aware that I’m playing for an important career. I take a deep breath as I look at myself one last time.

- "Let’s go. I’ll be late otherwise."

- "You’re perfect, no matter what he says. Don’t forget that."

I return her smile timidly, nodding. I don’t quite believe her words, but they give me courage. She kisses the back of my head one last time before stepping back. I know exactly what that means. It’s really time to go. Without a word, we both leave the bedroom and head to the living room. I feel at home with the ease I feel in this environment. Lucy makes me feel at home, and that’s all I needed. We put on our jackets and shoes from the wardrobe by the front door, then finally step outside. The accumulated stress doesn’t help me stay calm. I need to touch or occupy myself with anything I can as we drive. Noticing this, Lucy eventually places her hand on my thigh.

- "Hey, it’s just an interview, OK?"

- "You don’t understand. This is the chance of a lifetime."

- "If it doesn’t work out, we’ll look elsewhere," she says with determination.

I smile timidly, trying to convince myself of the best outcome. Lucy has always been more optimistic than me. That’s partly why I love her. She’s always been my light in the darkness. The ride feels endless in the silence I’ve caused. Her hand never stops caressing my thigh, though. She’s forced to remove it when we arrive so she can park. I’m relieved to see we’re much earlier than I feared. It must have taken us barely ten minutes. I expected the gallery to be in the heart of downtown and that it would take us longer to get there. I frown, looking around. This neighborhood doesn’t seem like it could host a gallery. It’s just an ordinary street with lots of houses. I glance at Lucy, who’s smiling.

- "Was this a joke?"

I ask hesitantly, dreading the answer. Disappointment already starts to grow within me, along with a hint of annoyance as her grin widens.

- "I’d never play such a bad joke on you."

- "Then where are we?"

- "At an annex of the gallery. This is the address I received for the interview," she says, pointing ahead.

I look straight ahead and see a renovated warehouse with a garage door as an entrance. I bite my lip, not sure what to think. It’s certainly an unusual place. I’m an artist at heart, so I love unusual things, but it’s unsettling for a major gallery to work in a place like this. My confidence only continues to fade. Noticing this, Lucy makes me look at her by grabbing my face between her hands.

- "Take a deep breath, baby."

I do as she asks, inhaling deeply while closing my eyes. It’s amazing the trust I have in her. She believes in me, and that’s all that matters. I smile slightly, feeling her lips against mine. I can’t afford to disappoint her after everything she’s done for me. It’s the least I can do for her. When I open my eyes, she greets me with her usual smile.

- Will you come pick me up?

- Of course, I’ve already told you. Just send me a text, and I’ll be there in a minute, she says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I’ll never be far away.

I nod, returning her smile softly. I can do this. For her. I give her one last kiss before unbuckling my seatbelt and opening the door.

- See you later.

- See you later, my love.

I close the door on those final words. That nickname still makes my stomach flutter. I’m not bold enough to call her that yet. I’ve done it over text, but that’s different. I hope it will come naturally in time. Although she doesn’t complain about my hesitancy, I know that it could become an issue in the long run if I don’t change. I take a deep breath and check the time as I stand in front of the garage door. I’m early, but punctuality is always a good thing at work, right? I force myself not to look back where Lucy is still sitting in the car. Even though this place scares me, I need to prove I can handle things on my own. With a surge of courage, I knock on the metal door, which echoes loudly in the deserted street. Shortly after, a door I hadn’t noticed next to the garage opens. I blush at my mistake as a man with graying hair appears. He doesn’t seem to notice, smiling warmly at me. Despite his gray hair, he looks like he’s in his forties. He has a rather neat appearance, dressed in a suit without a tie or bow tie, and wearing loafers. His hair is shorter on the sides and barely styled on top, as if he just ran his hand through it with some gel. That’s probably what happened.

- Good morning, he says, cutting through my daze with his deep voice. You must be Ona Batlle?

- P-pardon... Good morning... That’s me.

I awkwardly shake his extended hand. He chuckles softly and opens the door wider, inviting me inside. Before stepping in, I glance back one last time at Lucy’s car. Unfortunately, it’s too far away to see her inside, though I’m sure she hasn’t missed a moment of this first encounter. Reluctantly, I turn back and step into this unfamiliar place. I feel uneasy, even more so with a stranger.

- Don’t be nervous, he says, closing the door behind us. My name is Bennett Fields. May I speak informally with you?

I stop myself from frowning. He started talking informally right from the beginning, so it’s odd that he’s asking now. It’s not like I would refuse.

- Of course, I say without thinking.

I glance around. From here, the place looks much less intimidating than it did outside. It’s warmer and much brighter than I expected. I understand why when I see a large glass window at the back of the room that opens onto a courtyard. The room isn’t very deep, but I notice an opening on the right. As I imagined, this isn’t a gallery but a studio. A studio well-stocked with supplies. It’s a paradise for an enthusiast like me.

- Glad to see you like the place.

I smile awkwardly and focus my attention back on him. The idea of being alone with a man I don’t know makes me nervous.

- I’ve never seen so many supplies in one place, I admit with admiration.

- I appreciate the spark of passion in your eyes. I must confess, this is the first time I’ve welcomed someone so young into my space, he says as he walks deeper into the room.

I quickly follow, trying to keep from daydreaming any further. I tend to get lost in thought when it comes to art, making it difficult to stay focused. We take the opening at the back. It leads to a hallway where the glass windows continue on our left. On the other side, there are also windows set in a black steel frame. It gives the place a true industrial feel, which I love.

- So why did you agree to meet with me?

The words slip out before I can stop them. Even though he turns to smile at me again, I feel foolish.

- Initially, I was very impressed with the talent displayed in your portfolio. When I tried to contact you directly, I was surprised to learn that I had to go through someone else first.

I bite my lip, knowing full well he’s talking about Lucy. He stops in front of another glass panel on our right. The doors have been carelessly left open. I see a much larger space than the entrance. This is where the artists work. Numerous easels with canvases on them stand in every corner of the room. In the middle, there’s a huge table with supplies already laid out. I can tell people have been here by the still-wet paint on one of the canvases. This discovery reassures me slightly. At least I’m not alone with him. The glass windows bring in a lot of light. Anyone who appreciates art knows that daylight is the best source.

- I learned that this person shared your portfolio without your knowledge, he continues as we walk down the hallway. We had a long conversation about you and the reasons that prompted her to do so, he says, finally stopping in front of a door.

When he opens it, I see it’s an office. He enters first, so I follow. With a wave of his hand, he invites me to sit in a chair in front of his desk, which I do without hesitation. I’m relieved not to have brought my bag or anything else cumbersome. He sits across from me, resting his chin on his hands, which he’s clasped together, and looks straight into my eyes.

- This person spoke very highly of you. She seems to care a great deal about you and believes in your abilities. She made me even more curious about you. I was slightly hesitant because of your school’s reputation, but she assured me that everyone has different struggles, and that unlike others, you’re a very decent person.

He pauses to take a deep breath.

- In short, if I invited you here, it’s because I wanted to meet you in person and form my own opinion. While I trust her words, I like to know who I’m dealing with.

I swallow hard and nod. I should have expected this. I did expect everything he just said. I even told Lucy that it was strange for him to welcome someone from our school, but she didn’t want to believe me. It seems she managed to sell me well. He keeps smiling at me. So far, I can’t quite figure him out. He’s warmer than I anticipated. I pictured him much older, more wrinkled, and less well-groomed.

- So, Ona Batlle... I’m not expecting you to talk about your life or professional background. I already know you graduated from high school and that you’ve been at Camp Wiegman since this year.

- Then what do you want me to talk about?

- The answer seems rather obvious... If I brought you here, it’s to talk about art. So, how did you develop your talents?

I shrug, not really knowing how to answer that question. There’s not much to say, really.

"I've always enjoyed drawing. I've been doing it constantly since childhood. I suppose it's an activity that has always helped clear my mind."

The man in front of me leans back in his chair, scratching the small beard growing on his chin. He seems to be absorbing my words with interest.

"So, if I understand correctly, you've never taken any classes or had an art teacher?"

I shake my head. My father wanted to enroll me in classes when he noticed that it was all I did, but my mother found it impossible. No one could take me when my father wasn't around, which was half the year. There were my grandparents, but they were still working at the time. They had a small shop they kept until they managed to sell it, since my father wasn't going to take it over given his job.

"Interesting," he murmurs. "Where do you find your inspiration, then?"

I tense up at this question, though I was expecting it. Every artist draws inspiration from somewhere. Mine was dark for many years. However, I'm not sure if that's still the case since Lucy came into my life. Based on my sketchbooks, it seems like she's managed to chase away all the negative thoughts from my mind. He hasn't even had the chance to see my worst works.

"My family, my friends," I reply vaguely. "Most of the time, I just recreate what I see around me."

"The sketchbook I saw had landscapes. Did they mean something to you?"

"Yes... I was in conflict with the person I saw them with. I needed to release my frustration and their absence."

He gives a small, mischievous smile that quickly disappears as he regains his seriousness.

"Have you ever tried doing anything other than reproductions?"

"No... Well, very rarely. I've tried, but I always felt like it didn’t look right. However, I do draw portraits sometimes, and though I haven't done much, I've always wanted to learn abstract and contemporary art."

He nods without giving away what he's thinking. As I say this, I feel like I'm admitting I can't do much. Nowadays, reproductions don't impress people anymore. Yet that's what I do. I'm just an amateur, and that’s exactly what makes me doubt my abilities.

"Good," he smiles. "All of this is very interesting. Your mentor wasn’t wrong about you."

I bite my tongue at the term he uses for Lucy. I would have preferred that he didn't know that kind of thing. Especially since she's my girlfriend now.

"I have one last question for you. I promised your mentor I wouldn't push you too hard, so I'll understand if you don't want to answer."

I nod, frowning slightly. Lucy must have talked to him at length for him to know so much about me.

"I know you have a painful past, according to your mentor. I'd like to know if it's still your source of inspiration?"

"No," I answer without hesitation. "I had dark paintings for a long time, but I recently met someone who helped me move out of that phase. It's when I think of that person that I now draw my inspiration."

A new smile appears on his face. It feels like he knows exactly who I'm talking about. I hope I'm wrong. To my surprise, he doesn't say anything else and gets up from his chair.

"What do you think about giving me a little demonstration? I'm intrigued by what you can actually do, and I'd like to see for myself how you handle a brush."

"Really?" I ask, surprised.

"Of course. I'd like to see how you work in your element. Then, if the results are satisfying, we can talk about what's next. What do you think?"

I nod enthusiastically. Talking about what’s next. Oh my God, I can’t believe it! Although everything isn’t settled yet, he's giving me hope that it might happen. I hope I can make a good impression with my technique now. Lucy was right about one thing when she tried to reassure me—I’m in my element here. I have nothing to be afraid of. If nothing works out here, then I'll be motivated to try elsewhere. Lucy was right; here, I’m in my element. I shouldn’t be afraid to be in my element, or else I’ll never feel comfortable anywhere.

"Alright," he smiles. "Let's get to it. I'm eager to see what you can do."

I expected the interview to be much longer and more personal. Yet, he stayed very focused on questions related to art, and that motivates me to show him what I'm capable of. He also managed to make me feel comfortable around him. Without any hesitation, I follow him to the workshop we passed earlier. As we exit, I notice he didn't even close the door behind him. Who doesn’t close the door during an interview? A small smile spreads across my lips at the thought that Lucy might have ordered him to do such a thing, though I could be wrong. As I focus on the room from earlier, I notice it’s no longer empty. A woman in her thirties has appeared. She’s continuing the painting I noticed when I first arrived. I greet her timidly as I continue to follow Mr. Fields. He stops in front of an easel at the back of the room, surrounded by various materials. It looks like he planned all this. I don't even know where to look. Seeing this, he smiles again.

"Go ahead, have fun, and above all, don’t hold back your imagination. That’s where your inspiration comes from, after all."

For the first time since I got here, I genuinely smile. The thought of having all this to myself, even for just one painting, excites me like a three-year-old child who just got a present. Without hesitation, I grab a brush to start my painting, with my only inspiration being the emerald eyes of my girlfriend.

Tuesday, February 23; 2:15 PM - Manchester

With a heavy heart full of hope, we're back at the warehouse. I think the interview went well. Mr. Fields insisted that I eat with him and a few of the artists who were there today. I couldn't really refuse, so I accepted after informing Lucy. I loved being with them. They made me feel comfortable, and they talked a lot about how they ended up here. Now that we’re back, I realize it’s the end of the meeting when Mr. Fields shakes my hand.

"Thank you for your warm welcome."

"It was my pleasure. I'll contact you once I've made my decision. In the meantime, I wish you good luck with your final exams, and maybe I'll see you soon."

I watch him return to the warehouse before breaking into a big smile. I hope this works out! I was about to send a message to Lucy so she could come pick me up, but I see that she’s already there when I turn toward the spot where she was this morning. I quickly cross the street and get into the car. I don’t give her time to speak before I kiss her without restraint. None of this would have been possible without her. Lucy giggles against my lips, gently pushing me back.

"Hey," she says with a hint of amusement. "I take it everything went well?"

"It was amazing! I think I have a chance. I mean, he was really cool with me. We talked a bit, and then he let me draw. A lot, actually! He even helped me improve on some things. Obviously, I still have a lot to learn, but I think he’s really interested in my profile, and—"

- "Wow, breathe, Ona," she laughs.

I stop to actually catch my breath. Without warning, I cradle her face and kiss her again. I’m feeling so emotional right now, and it makes me want to be as close to her as possible. She gently places her hands on my wrists to calm me down again. I pull away, blushing with embarrassment.

- "Just thank you. Thank you for everything. This is all thanks to you."

- "I didn't do much. You should thank yourself for your obvious talent."

- "I'm not thanking you for that. Well, yes, of course, but mostly I’m thanking you for all the support you’ve given me. Because of you, I might finally have the future I’ve always wanted. I needed someone who believed in me more than I believed in myself, so thank you."

Lucy's expression softens at my words. She smiles tenderly and kisses my cheek.

- "The pleasure is all mine, my love. And now, how about you tell me what he said, hmm?"

It seems her curiosity is suddenly piqued. So, I start recounting everything from the beginning as she starts driving. I begin with the interview, which felt too short in my opinion. Then, I tell her about when I started painting. For the first time in my life, I tried painting something abstract. Mr. Fields was rather amused, knowing that I had never done it before, but he appreciated my boldness in trying to impress him. However, he eventually stopped me, preferring that I paint something I was more comfortable with. He then suggested that one of his employees pose for me. I had no trouble doing that, and that’s when he started giving me pointers on some of my techniques. After that, I couldn’t stop. I kept painting, over and over, in my element.

- "You must have really enjoyed the interview if you agreed to have lunch with them."

I blush and nod. Coming here, I never imagined I would stay so long or feel so comfortable in the end. If I wasn’t sure before, I now know that I want to make art my career.

- "Yeah, it was really cool."

- "What did he say about what happens next?"

- "He was surprised by what I can do without taking a single class. Before we left for the restaurant, he told me that if he takes me under his wing, I’ll have to take classes to improve and expand my knowledge. I hope my skills and motivation will convince him to keep me."

- "I have no doubt about that, baby. I’m sure you managed to impress him."

I smile as she places her hand on my knee. I love that she does that every time we’re driving somewhere. It makes me feel like I belong to her.

- "Now you just have to keep your promise for tonight," I tease.

A genuine laugh escapes her lips.

- "I suppose so, yes. I never doubted that everything would go well, you know."

- "Then why did you say that?"

- "Because you’ve become much more reasonable than you were a few months ago. The fact that you were drinking didn’t bother me. It was the fact that you were overdoing it and had no limits."

I bite my lip, fully understanding what she means. I’m not that reckless girl anymore, and now she trusts me. Even if I drink to the point of not remembering, she won’t hold it against me like she used to. Especially now that she’ll always be by my side. I’ve realized why she refused to let me go to parties for so long. She wanted me to learn the lesson, not punish me forever.

- "And by the way... How are the girls doing?"

Her deep groan makes it clear that she must have had a terrible morning.

- "Full of energy, if you ask me. Instead of helping with my stress, they spent their time making fun of me."

- "You should have expected that," I giggle. "Who would have thought they’d end up together," I say thoughtfully. "I still can’t quite wrap my head around it."

- "I’m happy they did," she admits to me. "They’re perfect for each other. And at least we know they’re both doing well."

- "You never told me much about Ingrid. I mean, I knew you were close, but I never knew how."

- "She was a great support to me when Keira died. She started off as just my manager, then became an instructor, but she quickly became a great friend. She helped me get out and introduced me to her friends who became mine... And Jenni became hers."

- "You’re a solid group."

- "We are," she smiles softly. "We each have our own stories."

- "Does Ingrid have one?"

- "You could say that. She was estranged from her parents, so she left home early to strike out on her own."

- "Is that why you think they’re made for each other?"

- "In a way... You see, they didn’t have anyone else besides their friends... So yes, I think they’re meant to be together, if only for that reason. They’ll have the chance to form a new family if things last between them."

I nod in agreement. She’s right. The one thing Mapi was missing was a family. Of course, she always said I was her family, but I could tell something was missing. I could have been that for her if we had been together, but that wasn’t the case. Ingrid is her new family, and that thought warms my heart for my best friend. At least this time, I really like her new girlfriend. I take a deep breath, thinking about a second thing Lucy mentioned. She rarely talks about Keira, so I gently prompt her to continue.

- "So Keira brought you closer... Her death affected your work too, didn’t it?"

- "A lot, yes," she replies without hesitation. "Keira loved that I took this job when I started. She always said I would save many people like her. I was supposed to start right after her death, so my work became very personal. I became cold but deeply involved in every case I had to handle."

- "That’s how you earned your nickname, Commander," I murmur. "Is that why you don’t like it when I call you that?"

Her hand tightens on my thigh for a moment, but she nods.

- "Yeah... I’m sorry, baby."

- "Don’t apologize. I’m glad you’re talking to me about it. Was I the only one with a drug problem?"

- "No, but you were the only one I had to personally take care of. Honestly, your addiction surprised me. Wiegman had promised not to give me such cases, especially after Keira. So, I expected many things from you, but not that."

- "Why did he do it then...?"

- "I’m still asking myself that question today. He knew your mother. He wanted to resolve your case in a year, and I think deep down, he knew I was the only one who would understand you."

- "And he wasn’t wrong," I affirm.

- "He wasn’t wrong," she confirms. "I defended you on things he didn’t expect. That’s why he trusts me so much with you. It’s a good compromise given our relationship."

We’ve arrived back at her building. This conversation was enlightening and more unsettling than I expected. I turn to her when we’re parked.

- "Lucy," I start hesitantly.

- "Don’t say anything."

- "You don’t even know what I was going to say."

- "Yes, I do," she says with amusement. "And now is not the time to tell me you love me."

My open mouth closes immediately. How did she know? The words have been on the tip of my tongue for some time now, but I haven’t been able to say them yet.

- "Your eyes tell me enough, Ona, but please, say it when you’re really ready. You’re too emotional right now, and I don’t want you to say it impulsively."

I hate it when she’s right. I feel so foolish that I blush stupidly. She unbuckles her seatbelt while looking me straight in the eyes.

- "Well, how about we bake some cookies before we get ready for tonight? I did some shopping, and I think Joan will be delighted to have some when she comes over tomorrow."

- "Oh yes, that’s a great idea. He loves them."

- "I have no doubt he does, if he loves them as much as you do," she giggles.

[builtbybrokenbells]

The Green-Eyed Monster

After a particularly shitty day, refuge in alcohol seems like the best option to help Jake recover from his poor mood. Y/n, his long time girlfriend joins him and his bandmates at the bar with high hopes to salvage the night. Jealousy, which had never been in Jake’s vocabulary, makes its first groundbreaking presence and laughs at its own disastrous effects.

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader

Word count: 17k (oops 🤭)

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (actual filth), unprotected sex (wrap it), borderline hate-fucking, rough sex, oral (m!receiving), oral (f!receiving), fingering, dom/sub, degradation, name-calling, slapping, spanking, overstimulation, forced orgasm, touch of bratty sub, biting, mutual masturbation, praise, pet-names, swearing, jealousy, possessiveness, drinking, toxic themes, angst (with a happy ending, pinky promise), arguments, probably definitely missed some, sorry!!

Here’s some filthiness with a touch of toxicity and angst because my last few posts were a bit too sweet 🥰 had to switch it up somehow. got a little carried away with this bad boy. had to cut some out cause i got too into it, so if it seems a little fast paced at the end, please keep that in mind! just couldn’t stop myself. it’s long, smutty, intense and does end well, i promise 😃 also very poorly proof-read cause i can’t sleep and decided to post this tonight instead of tomorrow, so please be nice. as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻

also, side note: all of the love I’ve received for Picasso has made my heart incredibly happy. I was very nervous posting it, and you guys really eased my worry. I appreciate you all dearly, your kindness makes me want to keep writing ♥️

~

Jake was in a terrible mood, and there was no doubt about that. Perhaps in the beginning, the idea of a lighthearted night at the bar was intriguing; something to take his mind off his mistakes in the studio earlier that morning, and hopefully to make up for his and Josh’s incessant bickering. It didn’t take long for that idea to turn sour in his mind, too. By the time you both realized it wasn’t going to brighten his spirits, you were already clad in a miniskirt and low cut body suit, hanging over the bar-top to tip the bartender. He thought it best to keep his mood to himself and just try to enjoy the sight of you all dressed up. It worked for a while; the tension remained minimal due to his hand permanently anchored to your hip, reminding him of all he had to be grateful for.

Once he’d gotten a few drinks into him, the familiar smile you loved so much started to grace his lips. The tension in his shoulders melted slightly, leaving him lax against the back of the dirty bar booth. His protective grip around your waist had turned into a loose hang over your shoulders, gently guiding you into his side with a loving undertone. Every so often, he even managed a laugh at his brothers antics, leaving you to believe the night may still be saved. But, only to your trained eye, you could still notice the cloud of irascible energy in his eyes.

You were quite certain that when he’d arrived back to your shared home earlier that day, the bedroom would never recover from the shock of the pornographic scene. You’d been able to pick up on his frustration through limited texts, only to have the speculation solidified when you finally caught sight of the expression on his face as he walked through the front door. When it never came, an uneasiness settled in your stomach. Jake’s favourite method of stress-relief was fucking you, which was always quite fine by you. Knowing that he still had all of the pent up anger left you conscious of the fact the night was teetering on a thin line; if it went well, no harm nor foul. If not, you were going to have to plan ahead for a rest and recovery period.

You were more than shocked when your long-term boyfriend pitched the idea of joining his brothers at the bar. In his ill-temper, he usually turned into a bit of a recluse. But, you thought it best to go along with the idea. If he thought it would cheer him up, you were happy to oblige, and never complained about seeing his band mates. They’d turned into the best of friends over the years, and they were your favourite company to keep aside from Jake. You opted to believe it couldn’t be the worst idea in the world. So that’s where you ended up: sitting in a bar booth with Jake wrapped around you and laughing alongside the other three boys.

They’d picked a small bar that you all frequented. It had low traffic and strong drinks to keep spirits high. There were dart boards, pool tables, complimentary table peanuts and some slot machines if you ever decided to try your luck. They kept a steady stream of dad rock flowing through the sound system when the karaoke wasn’t open to the public, and the bartenders had grown into acquaintances over the months of regular visits. If you were to go to any bar, this was the perfect one to choose. You all had yet to have a bad experience, aside from an occasional wandering hand from a too-drunk regular, or a drunken snide comment that was easily brushed off. The night was destined to be good, assuming Jake was kept in good spirits.

You picked up a shelled peanut, cracking the soft exterior with your thumb. You took one half of the shell and placed it on your napkin, and took the other one and tossed it across the booth. It hit Sam in the side of the head, as he was turned to speak to Danny who was beside him. He whipped his head towards you, the soft thud of the impact catching his attention. He immediately knew the culprit, as you’d been doing it intermittently the entire time you’d been there. You gave him a sweet smile, one filled with innocence, as if to say you would never do such a thing. His accusatory stare made it difficult to hold back laughter. He picked up the shell, which had fallen anticlimactically to the table, and tossed it back in your direction. It bounced off your chin and dropped down into your shirt, causing an eye roll from you. Sam pointed a finger at you, a silent warning not to do it again. You picked it from your cleavage and placed it with the rest of the waste atop the napkin. You vowed to leave him alone, just long enough for him to forget about it, then strike again.

Josh, who was caught in conversation with his twin brother, suddenly smacked his palms against the tabletop, catching you by surprise and making you jump. You turned your attention to him, eager to know what the disturbance was about. “Drinks!” He announced. “One for you, brother dearest?” He asked Jake. He gave him a nod. Josh’s eyes trailed to your glass, noticing the liquid threatening the end and muddled with melted ice. “And for you, pretty lady?” He asked, flashing a smile. Nobody else noticed, but Jake’s eye gave a small twitch, and his jaw clenched at the term of endearment.

“Another Mojito, please.” You grinned, not willing to pass up an offer of a free drink. He had no worries buying them for you. You and Josh had been playing the same game for half a decade; he’d do something nice for you, and you’d hit him back with something even better the next time. The timeless battle had begun after you both had realized arguments of payments and repayments were getting you nowhere. Jake had found it endearing, never a worry in his mind about anything non-platonic. He trusted you with his life, as he did with Josh. He was more than happy that you were so close with his brothers, and would be the first to speak up if he were uncomfortable. But, the war had gone to extremes by times, ranging from signed albums from big music names they’ve met, to rarity collectors editions of his absolute favourite films. If the tally was still running, the amount of money and thought you’d put into each other would be unfathomable.

You looked over to your boyfriend, picking up on the sullen attitude once more. He caught your eye and you gave him an inquisitive look, but he just shook his head. You thought it best not to push him, instead leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek. Before you pulled away, he turned and gave you a real kiss, holding you there for a moment. When he pulled back, he gave you a small smile. You felt your nerves fizzle away, finding comfort in the small gesture. He was really good with always making sure you knew he wasn’t mad at you while he was generally upset. It was a small, constant reassurance that helped guide you through his occasional short temper.

When Josh returned, he placed everyone’s respective drink in front of them. “Thanks, darlin’.” You smiled, stirring the drink with your straw. You took a sip, a hum of gratitude immediately sounding from you. Mindless chatter ensued for a few moments, nothing of importance being spoken into existence. Then, the music over the speakers started to get louder and the lights were dimmed. The trashy coloured lights surrounding the dance floor flicked on, letting everyone know the time had hit double digits. A familiar note sounded, causing you to perk up instantly. Josh caught your eye, raising his eyebrow and nodding to the open dance area.

Without a second thought, you jumped up, reaching your hand out to him. It was a simple action, one that you’d done thousands of times over the years of you and Jake dating, and it had never been an issue. Jake was not a dancer, and you were sure he never would be. You theorized he may even try to skip out on your first dance at your wedding. Josh, on the other hand, was always happy to pick up the slack in that department.

You were a lighthearted spirit, one who loved fun and didn’t care about wandering eyes or judgment, not caring if your dancing or singing was making a fool of you. It was something that drew Jake to you in the first place, and he loved watching the sparkle in your eye as you lived your life to the fullest. He was usually happy that someone was always willing to dance with you; it ensured you were safe and it gave you someone to share a memory with. He was usually quite encouraging of Josh’s antics, especially because it meant the spotlight was off of him and he wouldn’t have to join you on the dance floor. He would never stop you from enjoying yourself, but certain things, as you’d come to understand, were just not Jake-esque.

That night, the sight of you so close with his brother, singing the song back to each other and him twirling you around, set him on fire. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was Josh’s unwavering pet names for you, or the way he always looked at you like he was head over heels for you, or the constant comments of Josh telling him how lucky he was. Or, how it looked like Josh was adding to your light, when in turn, sometimes Jake felt like he dimmed it. Especially on nights like that one, in particular, when he was perpetually angry and wasn’t sure how to shake it off. Or, maybe Jake was still pissed off at Josh’s critique and jabs at the studio when Jake was struggling to play his solos. Whatever it was, for the first time in his life, he was jealous of you and Josh. If looks could kill, his twin brother would have been on the floor.

“You okay?” Sam asked, picking up on Jake’s glare in the direction of the dance floor. His jaw was hard-set, knuckles white from the grip on his glass. Jake turned to face his younger brother, breaking out of the trance he’d found himself stuck in.

“Yeah.” Was all he replied, taking a long drink from his cup.

“It’s just Josh and y/n, they’ve always been like that. You’ve got nothing to worry about, brother.” Sam tried to ease the tension.

“Have they, though?” Jake snipped back, almost immediately. “Like that?” Sam and Danny looked towards you both, studying your actions for a moment. Eventually, they shrugged and gave a nod.

“Yeah.” Sam said, not finding anything out of the ordinary. “Come on, man. Josh would never do that to you, and neither would she. Y/n’s been head over heels for you since the day you met her.” Jake sent a look of warning to his sibling, silently telling him to stop trying to make the situation better. Jake knocked back the last of his drink, letting the bottom of the glass fall back on the table with a thud. Without another word, he stood and went to the bar.

As he waited for the bartender to fix his next drink, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander back over to you. He expected you both to filter back to the booth when the song ended, but the next tune caught your attention, too. Josh had his hand on your hip, and yours was loosely hung around his neck. You were close to him, but not provocatively close. Still, to Jake, it was more than enough to get his blood boiling. You were laughing at him singing the lyrics to you, swaying your hips in time to the beat. Even in his jealousy, he couldn’t help but admire your beauty. The wrinkles forming in the corner of your eyes, the radiant grin, the way your hair cascaded down and framed your face. He thought you were breathtaking, and for once, he was envious he wasn’t up dancing with you, instead.

He hadn’t realized the song had ended until you presented yourself in front of him, breathless and buzzing with joy. He felt himself soften slightly when you wrapped your arm around his midsection and leaned into him. “Hi, handsome.” He could tell you were tipsy; he could hear it in your words. He let his hand fall from his drink, bringing it to your face and running his thumb over your cheek. The anger seemed to melt away as soon as you touched him, and he was fully engrossed in your presence. The thought of you dancing with Josh became a distant memory to him as soon as you stood on your tip-toes and placed a kiss on his lips. “What’s wrong?” You whispered, concern thick in your voice. He looked down at your face, not knowing exactly how to answer.

“I… I’m okay.” He assured you, leaning down for another kiss. He realized he may have been a bit irrational, especially now that you were with him, showing him ten times more affection than you were with his brother.

“You can talk to me, honey.” You pried just a little, hoping he might open up. He snaked his free hand around your waist, letting it rest dangerously low on your back.

“Think I just needed a kiss.” He brushed your concern off, but you could still sense the indifference in his voice.

“Whatever you say.” You hummed, turning towards the bar. He kept his hand on your lower back, but turned with you. He grabbed his drink and sipped at it while you caught the bartenders attention. He rushed over, giving you a smile.

“Mojito?” He asked. You nodded enthusiastically, happy he remembered your order. He grabbed all of the ingredients, making small talk with you while he made your drink. “You’ve got some good dance moves.” He complimented. You let out a small laugh.

“Thanks, the really good ones only come out when I’m drinking.” You joked.

“We’ll have to keep them coming your way, then.” He said, placing the new cup in front of you. “There you go, beautiful.” The fire that had died down in Jake reignited as if the bartender had poured a gallon of gasoline on it. You noticed his grip on you tightened, and when you looked up you saw the tension of the muscles in his jaw. Jake grabbed his wallet and pulled out a bill. He threw it on the counter and guided you away before you could respond. You looked up at him, noticing the vibration of anger in his hands.

“Jake, what is going on with you?” You only let him lead you away so far before planting your feet on the ground, forcing him to stop with you. He turned his head towards you, eyes filled with an emotion you had never really seen from him before.

“Me?” He snapped. You recoiled at the harshness of his voice. You could see him soften a bit, but he was still ablaze with whatever he was feeling. “You’re all over Josh up there, and then you flirt with the bartender in front of me and I’m what? Just supposed to sit there and watch?”

“What?” You were certain you couldn’t have given him a look more bewildered than the one you were giving him, then. “Did me dancing with Josh bother you?” He didn’t respond, but his eyes did dart away from you. “Jake, I just… we always dance together. I didn’t really think… I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, no, y/n. I’m sorry.” He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand and pushing his hair back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I know it’s not like that. I’m just in a shitty mood, and I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“We can go home, baby.” You offered, making sure he knew you were okay with that, too.

“No, you’re having a good time. I just need to loosen up a bit, I guess.” He let out a small chuckle, one that was barely noticeable.

“I’d have just as good of a time at home, alone, with you,” you leaned up to his head, lips inches away from his ear “in bed, naked.” His arm around you tightened, pulling you into him slightly.

“Careful,” he warned. You placed a kiss to the sensitive area just below his ear, lingering there for a moment.

“Just so you know, the bartender could only have me in his dreams.” You whispered before you pulled away. “I go home to you, remember?” His lips upturned into a smug smile.

“Get over there and keep drinking,” he ordered “before I have to take you to the bathroom.” The look in his eye led you to believe he wasn’t joking. You felt a blush creep up to your cheeks, taken off guard by the bluntness of the statement. He gave you a wink, subtle enough to go unnoticed, but obvious enough to send a rush of arousal straight to your core. “Don’t get too drunk, though. I’ve got a long night planned for you.” He promised, placing a delicate kiss to the top of your head, as if the words he said weren’t laced with filth.

You joined his brothers back at the booth, both of you sliding in as if nothing happened. Jake resumed his earlier position, slinging an arm around your shoulder. His whole aura was much lighter than it was a few moments before. As the boys divulged into conversation, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to your interaction with Jake. He wasn’t a jealous person; in fact, you couldn’t recall a time off the top of your head where he had been. You’d been dating him for just over five years, knowing him better than anyone else. He could be slightly possessive at times, and even that was rare, but he was never outright jealous. Above all else, he was protective of you. He was always quite comfortable with the fact that you were his, and nobody stood a chance. At the same time, you’d never given him a reason to believe otherwise, because there was none. You were hopelessly in love with Jake, and always had been. To you, no other boy existed in that sense. He was everything you needed, and beyond that. Still, the idea of him radiating with jealousy sparked something inside of you. It was new, intense, and admittedly, very hot.

You shook the thought away, realizing it was not the best time to be thinking about how attractive you thought he was. You were broken from your thoughts when the volume at the table heightened. You looked up to see Sam and Danny locked in an arm-wrestling position. Josh had his hand on his brothers shoulder, encouraging him, while Jake was leaned in to the table slightly, cheering Danny on. You couldn’t help the laughs that you let out, finding the whole scene boyish and amusing. After a few moments of struggle, Danny took the win and pinned Sam’s arm down to the table. Jake let out a triumphant noise, removing his arm from your shoulder to reach across the table and giving Danny a congratulatory high-five.

“Pay up.” he said to Josh, now holding out his hand to his twin. Josh rolled his eyes, but fished his wallet out of his pocket and grabbed a twenty, sliding it across the table. Jake grabbed it, a smug smirk on his lips, and put it in his own. The betting war between the brothers was uncontrollable. They loved to put money on the stupidest of things, and when there was nothing pre-existing to bet on, they made something up. It was never about the dollar amount, more so just bragging rights.

Jake rested against the booth again, the satisfaction of winning giving him some momentary cockiness. Instead of returning his arm around you, he let his hand rest on your thigh under the table. You did your best to keep your expression the same, trying not to focus on the warmth of his palm on your exposed skin. His fingers drifted under your skirt, slowly making their way between your legs. He let his hand rest stop there for a moment, not wanting to push you too much. “So, y/n,” Josh started, catching you off guard. You looked up to meet his eyes. “I think that pool table is calling our name.”

“Rematch from last time?” You joked, raising an eyebrow.

“Redemption is a better word.” He corrected.

“And if I beat you again?”

“You won’t.” He dismissed you, not even considering the possibility. “But, if on some off chance you do, dinner is on me the next time we go out.”

“You said that last time.” You teased. “No originality.” You let out a small tsk. He feigned a look of offence. The conversation was allowing you to take your mind off Jake’s wandering hand.

“Fine, what’s your idea?” He conceded.

“I don’t have a better one, I just like making fun of you.” You shrugged. “Anyone else care to join?” You asked the rest of the table. There was a mutter of agreements and nods. Josh slid out of his seat first, followed by Sam and Danny. Jake was hesitant to move his hand from your leg, holding you there for a moment. You turned your head to look at him, giving him an inquisitive look.

“Better not keep him waiting.” Jake murmured, looking over your face. Your breath caught in your throat as he moved his hand up a little further, fingers inches away from your underwear. “What’s wrong?” He asked, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Behave yourself, Jacob.” You said, your lips upturned into a smile, too.

“Mhm, careful.” He gave the same warning as earlier. You knew very well that in every sense, he was always going to be in charge when it came to anything bedroom related. Still, it always proved fun to push his buttons. He pulled his hand away, ushering you out of the booth. As you stood, he delivered a quick smack to your ass. You let out a gasp, quickly looking around to see if anyone noticed. When you found you were in the clear, you gave him a glare over your shoulder. “Love you.” He said, smiling in response to your reaction.

Instead of answering, you began to walk away. He made a mental note, ensuring he would get you to say it, later. He followed you as you made your way to the pool table, where you both noticed that your company had picked up some extras. There were three new faces, two girls and a boy. “Ah, thanks for finally deciding to join us!” Sam bellowed as you walked up beside him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, in a very annoying younger brother type of way. You rolled your eyes, attempting to wiggle your way out of his grip.

“Who’s your new friends, Sammy? Had to find some people who don’t know enough about you to make fun of you, yet?” He let you go with a dramatic, but light, push.

“Get out of my face,” he said, a smirk on his lips.

“You love me.” You nudged him with your elbow.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Your eyes turned towards the new faces, taking in the sight. Both girls looked quite similar, and the guy was nothing like the boys you’d come to the bar with. He was tall, had short, blonde hair and bright eyes. “I don’t know their names. Josh started talking to them.” Sam shrugged.

“Figures,” you laughed, knowing all too well how much of a social butterfly he could be. Jake was standing behind you and Sam, opting to stay out of the conversation. Eventually, when Josh caught sight of you, he waved you over. You joined him, allowing him to introduce you to his new friends. The girls were friendly enough, but didn’t particularly stick out as memorable in your mind. The guy was nice, too, but his wandering eyes were very noticeable and very uncomfortable. “Nice to meet you all.” You addressed them all together.

“So, is this your girlfriend?” The guy asked Josh, which produced a booming laugh from both of you. Jake, on the other hand, did not find the question very funny. And he found Josh’s answer even less tasteful.

“A man can dream,” Josh sighed, humour clearly laced in his tone. You smacked his arm, chuckling at the thought. “Unfortunately, just my best friend, my confidante, my partner in crime,” he paused, looking over to you. “Soulmate?”

“Too far,” you warned, but couldn’t help the smile that broke on your face. You knew he was drunk, just by the formulation of his words. The statement itself was nothing out of the ordinary; Josh loved teasing Jake, although he never really managed to bother him with it. That night, though, was an entirely different story. Every word that Josh spoke seemed to piss him off even more.

“So you’re on the market then?” The unfamiliar boy asked. Your eyes widened, shocked at the bluntness of his question. That seemed to be Jake’s breaking point, as he pushed through Danny and Sam to join the conversation. His arm snaked around your waist in an instant, the familiar feeling immediately comforting you.

“Absolutely not.” His tone was firm, but not threatening. When you looked up to see his face, you were certain that if his expression were rewritten in a comic, that would be the scene where smoke was coming from his ears.

“Ah, sister-in-law was probably a good descriptor, too.” Josh said, giggling at his brother. Jake shot him a glare in response.

“Sorry, man. Promise I didn’t mean any harm.” The boy raised his hands in defence, showing Jake he wasn’t trying to start anything. Jake calmed slightly, nodding in understanding.

“I think a game of pool will certainly lighten the mood!” Josh announced, drawing the attention away from the tense moment. He grabbed a cue from the rack on the wall, breaking up the group. The boy who you couldn’t really remember the name of followed Josh, leaving you and Jake to yourselves for a moment. The two girls were chattering amongst themselves, completely uninvolved in the situation.

“Soulmates, eh?” Jake looked down at you, a look of annoyance on his face.

“Jake,” you warned, giving him a pointed look. “If this is because I’m upsetting you in some way, let’s go and talk about it. If it’s just because you’re in a bad mood, quit it.” You told him. You weren’t mad at him, but you weren’t willing to be chastised all night when the root of the issue didn’t even begin with you. He’d never once had an issue with the nature of your’s and Josh’s relationship. The surfacing of his anger on a night where he’d already been upset seemed to be an indication that he wasn’t solely upset at Josh’s words, but more in general. He wasn’t the best at processing his emotions, and tended to direct them at smaller situations to avoid dealing with the main issue.

A note of apology flashed in his eyes at your words. Before he could answer, you broke away from him to grab a cue for yourself. He watched you, feeling a fizzle of regret form in his chest. You weren’t acting any different than any other night, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling from himself. He was too deep into his miserable mood to break out of it, now. He was pulled from his thoughts when Sam called him over to the pool table next to the one you and Josh were playing on.

Josh had started the game, fully keeping your attention on the table rather than Jake’s sour mood. Sam and Jake had started their own game, eventually joined by Danny and one of the girls from Josh’s new posse of friends. The guy had moved on to try his luck with another group of people, clearly only at the bar in attempt to get laid. The second girl was hovering around the other part of your group, watching the game with intensity. You tried not to notice, but every so often her eyes would drift and land on Jake. You shook off the distraction, zoning back in on your own game. You lined up your cue with the cue ball, and shot at a solid ball. It rolled in flawlessly, and you moved on to the next.

“Cheater,” Josh grumbled as he watched your next ball sink, too.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You shrugged.

“Could never hate you, mama. Just strongly dislike you.” He gave you a cheeky smile. You gave him a scoff of disbelief, knowing for certain there was no world to exist where Josh would dislike you, or anyone, for that matter.

When your turn finished, you stepped back to observe his. As he lined up his shot, your eyes drifted over to the table next to you, finding Jake and Sam laughing at a joke one of the girls had spewed out. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look away from Jake’s smiling face, trying not to focus on it. But, in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but think about how that was the happiest he looked all night. As much as you wanted to be annoyed at him for questioning your loyalty, you couldn’t find it within yourself. Yet, anyway. The sight produced more sadness than anything else. You swallowed your insecurity, chalking it up to you overthinking the situation.

The night carried on, the empty glasses piling up by the pool tables, and your inhibitions greatly diminished. You and Jake had silently made the agreement to steer clear of each other in avoidance of a blowout at the bar. You stuck with Josh, bouncing from pool, to darts, and even the dance floor a few times. Jake found himself constantly engrossed in the nameless bimbo that had taken an interest in him. Somewhere between drink seven and double digits, you’d both engaged in undiscussed competition to see who could piss the other off, more. When the clock neared twelve, the karaoke section of the bar opened up. After picking up another beverage at the bar, Josh was pulling you in the direction of the stage.

He put the songs in, shutting down your inquiries and telling you it was a surprise. When you both got on stage and grabbed a mic, Jake was seething before the first note of the song played. “Seriously, Josh?” You laughed as the name of the song flashed across the screen.

“Come on! It was a good choice.” He grinned.

“You’re trying to start shit.” Still, even as you scolded him, his drunken delight was incredibly entertaining.

“He’s being an asshole,” he said, making sure his mouth was away from the mic. “I’m sure he’s trying to do the same thing with her.” His eyes floated in the direction of his twin, who now had his arm hung loosely over the other girls shoulders, similar to his hold on you earlier in the night. Red flashed in your eyes, but instead of lingering, you turned to Josh, no longer worried about the choice of music.

“Let’s give a performance of a lifetime.” Was all you replied. He smiled, happy you were on the same page. You both divulged into the song, very dramatically singing the words to ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ by Elton John.

By the end of the song, you had almost completely forgotten about Jake by the pool table. You weren’t sure if it was because of the liquor in your system, or the sheer amount of fun you were having. You were still a bit breathless by the time Josh’s second choice lit up the screen. This one, although not a duet, was probably one of the most venomous choices he could have made. Mixed between Jake’s love for Jimi Hendrix, how often Jake played it and dedicated the song to you, and the connotation of the lyrics, you were surprised Jake didn’t get up on stage and strangle Josh in retaliation. Your eyes widened, looking over at him in concern.

“He’s been mad at me all day, and he’s taking it out on you. Let him be upset, he’s being a dick.” Josh said, his words assuring you that he would take the heat for the song choice. It felt nice to know that Josh also thought Jake was acting out of character; jealousy had never been in his vocabulary, and the toxic game you found yourselves caught in was something you had never done before. You and Jake had barely had more than an argument in your years of dating. The longer it dragged on, the more painful it became. He had a short temper, but you couldn’t recall a time it had ever been pointed at you, let alone caused a spiteful interaction. As much as it was hurting your feelings, it was fuelling an anger within you that you weren’t sure even existed before that night. The liquor and the sour mood didn’t mix, and you should have known that from the beginning, but had no idea it would divulge into anything close to whatever the current situation was.

By that point, all of the boys had caught on to the tense nature. Sam and Danny were baffled that Jake was even willing to put his focus on another girl, let alone his hands. He was nothing if not loyal to you. Usually, his eyes would never even drift to another girl. Everybody was more than aware that he loved you as much as his music, if not more. They were also very aware that you and Josh were acting out of retaliation, fuelling the fire and hoping to get the last dig in and end it for good. The girl remained quite oblivious to the whole affair, just happy to be receiving some of the attention. Sam let out a long exhale as Josh began to sing you the lyrics to ‘Foxey Lady’, him and Danny certain that this was the brutal climax to the entire night. Jake was vibrating with anger, and there was no consolidation when you’d given up your hesitancy and sang it back to him. Sam and Danny shared a look, silently agreeing that they were going to have to put a stop to the situation one way or another before it got too out of hand.

Jake bargained with his temper, deciding on how to respond. Anger would be too easy, and too obvious. So instead, his course of action was the most disastrous one he could think of. Rationality was completely out the window by that point. He grabbed the girls hand, who he still hadn’t learned the name of (and he didn’t really care, quite frankly), and pulled her towards the dance floor. You didn’t notice at first, too caught up in the singing and laughter you were sharing with Josh. Everyone else did, however, and were awaiting the storm that was brewing. At the height of the song, you finally noticed that Josh had become a bit distracted from the performance. You looked to him, realizing he was staring off at the dance floor, and followed his gaze.

You cut off your singing mid-sentence, your heart plummeting to your stomach. Jake was dancing, in midst of twirling around the girl he’d been using as leverage all night. When he pulled her back in, his hand rested on her hip and he gave her a smile. It was a sickening sight for you. You slipped the mic back onto the stand, cautiously stepping off the stage, and headed straight for the door. You threw back the last of the liquid in your cup and set it on an empty table as you passed by. As the door slammed behind you, tears prickled your eyes and a lump began to form in your throat. At the sound of the door, Jake’s head turned to the stage, finally noticing your disappearance. Panic struck him, realizing he’d definitely taken it too far. He caught Josh’s eye, but wasn’t met with any type of reassurance. He’d won the battle, but at too much of a price.

He cut the dance short, not caring about any formalities, and followed hot on your trail. When he got outside, you were already on your way down the street, far clear of the parking lot. He muttered a curse under his breath, and took off in a jog after you. “Y/n!” He called, but you didn’t turn back. You kept your pace steady, hoping that you could make it home before he caught up. Your shared home wasn’t too far away from the bar, only a few minutes by foot. You thought if you could make it there before him, you could regain yourself a bit more. When he realized you weren’t going to slow down, he ran a little faster.

He managed to catch up, grabbing a hold of your hand to stop you from going any further. You tried to shake out of his grip, not willing to make any conversation with him, but he refused to let go. “What?” You finally snapped, turning to look at him. “What do you want, Jake?” He recoiled slightly, never once hearing you speak to him in that tone.

“I…” he trailed off, eyes wide and unsure of what to do.

“You what?” You asked again, tears still falling from your eyes. “Came to tell me all about your new dance partner? I can go get my shit out of the house and you can move her right in, in my place, if she’s so fantastic!”

“I don’t even know her fucking name, y/n.” Jake rolled his eyes, only fuelling your fire even more.

“That’s the point!” You yelled back, finally freeing your hand from his. “You don’t even fucking know her, and you get up and dance with her. It’s been five years and I can’t even get you to do that with me! One hand, Jacob. I can count on one hand how many times you’ve danced with me. I got tired of hearing no, so I stopped asking!”

“Jesus Christ, all of this over a fucking dance? You were practically fucking Josh all night, and I haven’t said a word about it.”

“That’s a lie, but we’ll unpack that later.” You scoffed. “It’s not about a dance, Jake. It’s about effort.”

“Effort? Like I dont give you my entire heart every day?” You opened your mouth to respond, but closed it and proceeded to turn around and walk away. You weren’t willing to have a screaming match in the middle of the street, especially while he was still mad. If there was one thing you knew about Jake, it was that while he was upset, he had very little rationality. “So you’re just going to walk away?” He snapped. You turned on your heels, giving him the dirtiest look you could muster.

“Get in the fucking house. We can talk there.” You pointed in the direction you were walking in. His eyes held the same emotion as yours, but he obliged, anyway. When you saw him start walking towards you, you turned and walked, too. The few minutes it took to get to the house were uncomfortably silent. When you reached the front porch, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. You flicked off the porch light when Jake made his way into the house, too.

You stormed to the kitchen, discarding your purse on the table and throwing your keys beside it. You did your absolute best to make it up the stairs in a stormy fashion while still wearing your heels. You didn’t have much time to gather a thought, because he was hot on your trail. “So what is it, then? If it’s not ‘just about the dancing’?” He mocked you with air quotes, hiking your temper up even more.

“The small things, Jake. Yeah, we wake up to each other every morning, and I get a kiss goodbye, but the small stuff matters. Like dancing. I love to dance, and the only time I’ve ever gotten to dance with you, I had to practically beg you. You’re with some complete stranger, and that’s what you decide to do to get under my skin? That was really low.”

“So you’re mad that I used it against you while Josh was up there singing my fucking song for you?” He took a step closer, face inches from yours. “You got plenty of dancing in with him tonight, I figured you got it all out of your system.”

“You’re missing the. whole. point.” You annunciated your words carefully. “I was up dancing with Josh because you never would! It hurt me because you won’t do that one simple thing with me, ever, even when you know how happy it makes me! And she got to have it with a snap of her god damn fingers, even if it wasn’t for the right reason. I got to watch you do something with another girl when I have to beg you to give it to me.” You sat on the bed, pulling your foot up onto your knee and messing with the strap on your heel.

“Didn’t seem like you missed me too much, tonight.” You closed your eyes, expelling a long breath to calm yourself down.

“I was only dancing with him because I couldn’t dance with you, Jake. I was only hanging out with him because all you wanted to do was argue with me.” You kept your voice steady, trying not to feed into him. “Do you think I prefer dancing with your brother? Getting asked if I’m his girlfriend, when we’ve been dating for half a decade?” You inquired, still messing with the strap of your heel. He let out a sigh, grabbing your ankle and pulling your foot up to rest on his thigh. He carefully undid the strap of your shoe and slipped it off your foot. He held his hand out, motioning for you to lift your other leg. You gave him a look of confusion in response.

“What? I’m mad at you, it doesn’t mean I don’t fucking love you.” He grumbled. “Give me your other foot!” He ordered, anger still present in his tone. You did as he said, allowing him to free you of your other shoe. When it was off and both of them were discarded in the closet, he resumed the conversation. “Certainly looked like you were enjoying yourself.” He finally replied. “With your… hmmm, what was it?” He asked, placing his fingers on his chin and pretending to ponder the answer. “Oh, yeah! Your confidant, your partner in crime, your soulmate!” He bellowed. “Who can only dream of being your boyfriend!” He let out a mocking sigh, laced with fake dreaminess.

“I don’t understand why tonight, after years of being together, Josh and I’s friendship is bothering you. You think if there was really a problem, you would have said something, oh, I don’t know, years ago?” You stood again, feeling more secure without your shoes on.

“Because you were using him to get under my skin!”

“God, you’re insufferable sometimes!” You shouted, pushing past him to go back downstairs. He was on his game, not letting the sudden movement deter him. He followed you as you walked. “You were doing the exact same thing! And in case you forgot, you were being a dick before we even got to the bar! I gave you ample opportunity to speak up, or go home, or just tell me what was bothering you, but you insisted you were fine and that you wanted to stay. Then she comes around, and all of your issues are suddenly resolved! You’re laughing and joking like you would any other day. All it took was for me to step out of your way for ten minutes.” You grumbled the last part, making your way into the kitchen. You opened the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and cracking the lid. You took a long drink before recapping it and setting it on the counter, just in case he pissed you off enough for you to throw it at him.

“If anything, it just gave you an excuse to be alone with him.” Jake hissed. “It’s not just about the dancing, or the karaoke, or the even the ‘funny’ passes. He looks at you like he’s waiting for me to fuck up, just so he can swoop in and finally have you all to himself. He practically undresses you with his eyes every time you walk in a room. Or maybe because it always seems like he makes you happier than I can. He dances with you, and sings with you, and buys you all of those gifts that he always just seems to know that you want.” You spun on your heels, facing him with a little bit softer of an expression than any of the previous.

“That’s what you’re worried about? You think he makes me happier than you do?” His eyes darted away from you for a moment, likely to avoid letting you know how he was really feeling. “Jesus Christ, Jake, are you blind?” He didn’t answer, causing a resurgence of annoyance in you.

“If I’m the only thing standing in the way of you being with him, go ahead. I’m not stopping you.” He snapped. “He shits on me all day at the studio, then I get to come home and watch him put his hands all over you, my girlfriend, and I’m the bad guy for being upset?” Your vision turned red, infuriated at the thought of him even thinking that. You took a step towards him, your nose practically touching his.

“If you’re so mad at him, why the fuck are you taking it out on me?” You questioned. “I told you, I would have been more than happy at home with you. You know why? Because I fucking love you, you idiot. I could say it a million times, and you wouldn’t care. Because obviously it’s all about Josh, and how I’ve been meticulously planning on using you to get to him for half a decade. Just waiting for the right time to strike, yeah?” You spat. “It doesn’t matter what I say, because no matter what, you’re always right, hmm?” You pushed your finger into his chest, really extenuating your point. “Nobody else in the entire world is allowed to have an opinion, because Jake knows it all! He’s got it all figured out!” He grabbed your wrist, forcing it down to your side and stopping you from prodding at his chest again. You were nose to nose, chests heaving with anger. You weren’t sure if he was going to tell you to get out, or if you were going to leave before he got the chance. You didn’t have a clue as to what was to come next, but you certainly weren’t expecting him to spin you around and push you against the island countertop. He let go of your wrist, grabbing a fistful of your hair instead. He pulled your head back gently, just so your ear was touching his lips.

“Did you like him singing that song for you?” He asked, his voice low and his breath tickling your skin. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal at your new found position. When you didn’t answer, his grip on your hair tightened. “Answer me.”

“Yeah.” You hissed, just for arguments sake. In reality, it was nothing compared to when Jake played it for you. Josh singing it had nothing on when Jake sang it, or hummed the lyrics to you. Josh had nothing on Jake, period, but you were too stubborn to stroke his ego.

“Yeah?” Jake questioned, his knuckles white against the hold on your hair. His hips were pressed into your ass, locking you against the counter indefinitely. “You’d rather go home with him?” He seethed. “Have him take your high heels off, wake up to him every morning?” Your heart was drumming against your chest. You weren’t willing to give in to him, but you also weren’t sure where he was going with his point. When you didn’t answer, he used his free hand to yank your skirt over your ass. His hand graced your exposed skin, the touch almost too gentle to fit with the current situation. After a moment of silence, he lifted his hand and brought it down forcefully, causing you to gasp at the contact. The ring that he adorned on his finger left a sharp sting long after the slap was delivered. “Fucking answer me.”

“N-no,” you stuttered, all of your confidence fleeing you. In place of it, there was a growing arousal between your legs and your tendency to submit to him was showing.

“That changed awfully fast.” He taunted. His hand still rested on your ass, but he’d moved it closer to your hip and held you in a firm grip, instead. You could feel his erection growing against you; the position alone was enough to get him going. “Color.” He barked.

“Green.” You said without hesitation. His fingers hooked into the side of your panties, his fist still anchored in your hair. He took a small step away from you, freeing your underwear from your body and letting them fall to your ankles.

“Since you don’t know how to make up your mind, I’ll do it for you.” He explained. You bit the inside of your lip, not daring to make a peep. “By the time I’m done with you, he won’t even be a thought in that pretty little head of yours.” He dipped his hand between your thighs, spreading them apart slightly. “The only word you’ll be able to say is my fucking name. M’gonna remind you why you come home to me.” His fingers ran through your cunt, getting a feel for the wetness that had already begun to pool. “That sound okay, angel?”

“Yes, sir.” You whispered, already knowing the rules to the game.

“Almost don’t want to let you cum. Haven’t been a very good girl for me, have you?” He hummed, spreading your arousal up to your clit. He swirled his finger around it for a moment, producing a whine from your throat. “So needy already. Pathetic.” He noted, applying a bit more pressure to his area of focus. You closed your eyes, losing yourself to the pleasure after hours of torture.

“M’sorry, sir.” You pleaded, knowing it was in your best interest to grovel for a while. “Promise I’ll be good for you from now on.”

“Come on, you expect me to forgive you that easily?” He chuckled. You didn’t respond, only let out a shaky breath when he removed his finger from your clit. “Gonna have to make it up to me, angel. You know that.” You heard him undo his belt buckle, pulling it from the loops on his pants. He set it on the counter cautiously, making you believe its use for the night was not over. He unzipped his zipper and freed himself from his pants in a swift motion. He tugged at your hair, silently telling you he wanted you to turn and face him. You did so, almost breathless at the sight of his face. His hand was still in your hair, pulling your head upwards slightly, making sure you couldn’t look away from him.

You wanted to break character so bad, to kiss him and tell him you were sorry, and that you loved him. You wanted to tell him everything you were too angry to communicate before, but you stayed silent. Instead, you gave an innocent bat of your eyelashes. He leaned down, likely feeling the same way, and pressed his lips to yours. It was sweet at first, but quickly turned needy and sloppy. You reached out for him, pulling him closer by the fabric of his shirt. You thought you would get in trouble for it, but in that moment, he allowed it. The small act satiated his need to feel wanted. You messed with the buttons on his shirt, trying to free him from it. After a few moments of struggle, you managed to slip it off his shoulders. He let go of you only for long enough to rid himself of it, and returned to his previous hold. He broke from the kiss, realizing he’d been far too accommodating for his liking. He raised his eyebrow, as if he expected you to know what he wanted. After a moment, you caught on, luckily just fast enough.

You sunk down to your knees, now eye level with his exposed cock. He still had his hand in your hair, holding it out of the way for you. You reached up, wrapping your hand around him before lowering your mouth to the tip and slowly bringing him into your mouth. You started slow, working yourself up to speed. He didn’t push you; as dominant as he was during sex, he was always hyper-aware of your comfortability. After a few moments, you started to hear a few curses fall from his lips. It gave you the encouragement to take him further, relaxing your jaw and your throat as you pushed your head down on him.

“Fuck, baby.” He sighed, unable to hold back his words anymore. You hummed against him, continuing your pace. Soon after, he tightened his fist in your hair, holding your head in place. He thrusted forward into your mouth, keeping a steady rhythm with his hips. You tried your best to keep yourself relaxed, making it easier for you to continue on. “Doing so good, sweetheart.” He groaned. The praise sent a shiver down your spine, your excitement for what was to come next was debilitating.

He sped his movements a bit more, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat with each re-entry. You felt tears from in the corner of your eyes, unsure how long you could keep up with him. But, you were more determined to please him than anything else, because it always meant you’d receive a fantastic reward. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, feeling too good to even look down at your face. As the tears rolled down your cheeks, you felt yourself gag, throat constricting against him.

His cock twitched in your mouth, bringing him back to reality for a moment. He pulled back, completely removing himself from you. “Should just cum in your mouth and leave you here like this.” He theorized, trying to attain his earlier tone of voice but failing. His chest was heaving with every breath, eyes glazed with lust. He wanted you just as bad as you wanted him, and he didn’t have the willpower to walk away from you, now. “You wouldn’t like that, would you?” He asked, his hand falling from your hair to your face, using his thumb to wipe away a few stray tears.

“No, sir.” You answered, finally regaining yourself a bit.

“I know, baby.” He sighed, realizing he could likely get off just by watching you looking at him that way. “Couldn’t do that to you. You know that.” You nodded, grateful he drew that conclusion. “Stand up for me.” You did as he said, raising slowly and ensuring you had your balance, not wanting to topple over. He brought you into a kiss, hands pulling at your shirt. If he knew you didn’t care, he would have ripped it off of you. He managed to free it from your upper half, pulling out of the kiss to bring it over your head. “No bra?” He inquired, fingers trailing over your now exposed torso. He brought his thumb to your hardened nipple, running the pad over it before pinching it between his fingers. You let out a gasp at the suddenness of his actions. “Such a little whore.” He quickly took his hand and swiped away any items littering the island. Your eyes widened at the action, watching as papers and books tumbled to the floor. He didn’t react, only placed his palms just below your ass, lifting you up onto the counter.

The cold countertop took you as a shock, causing you to tense for a moment. “Only for you.” You finally replied, watching him as he anchored your skirt above your hips.

“Didn’t seem that way tonight.” He muttered, forcefully shoving your legs apart. He took a step back for a minute, admiring the obscene display he’d left you in. You rolled your eyes.

“Jake-“ he cut you off with his eyes, his glare louder than any words he could speak.

“Kind of humiliating, isn’t it? When everybody at the bar thinks Josh gets to take you home, thinks he gets to see you like this?” He asked, not advancing any closer to you. You didn’t answer, just watched him. “How do you think that makes me feel? Watching you run around like a whore with my brother, begging him for attention?” Your face flushed at his words, embarrassed at the degradation.

“M’sorry, Jake.” You mumbled, not daring to move, in hopes of keeping him in good spirits.

“Are you? Or are you just saying it to get what you want?” He pried.

“I mean it.” You finally looked up to meet his eyes. He barely acknowledged your words before speaking again.

“Because you’re mine. You do know that, right?” You gave him a nod. “Nobody else gets to see you like this, ever. Nobody else gets to see how pretty you look when you’re desperate to be fucked.” He gave a small smirk, grabbing one of the chairs and pulling it over to him. He positioned it directly in front of you, taking a seat on it. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach, having an idea about what he was planning. He leaned against the back of it, never letting his eyes leave you. “You know that, right?” He pressed.

“Yes, sir.” You affirmed.

“Show me, then.”

“W-what?” You stuttered, wanting clarification.

“Touch yourself. M’gonna watch. You’re going to show me all of the parts of you only I get to see.” He ordered. You didn’t move right away, wondering if he was serious. “Do you have a problem with that?” His tone was condescending and his gaze was burning into you.

“N-no, sir.” You shook your head.

“Good.” He raised his palm to his face, spitting on it. He lowered his hand to his cock, stroking himself as he waited for you to start. “I don’t have all day, angel.” He stated, almost sounding bored. You broke out of your shock, bracing one hand behind you to hold yourself up and lowering your other hand to your heat. You gathered your arousal, slowly running your fingers through your cunt, really giving him a show. You saw his jaw clench as he drew in a long breath, silently telling you he approved of your actions. “If you’re gonna act like a whore, you’re gonna get treated like one.” He explained, eyes laser focused on your fingers. “You love the attention so much, so I’ll give it to you. But you’ve gotta work for it, and you better not cum unless I say you can.”

“Yes, sir.” You let your fingers trail up to your clit, rubbing small circles. Your breath hitched in your throat, pleasure stemming from the sensation, but also from the sight of him touching himself. You had no idea how he could ever doubt your love for him, because you were hopelessly and utterly infatuated with him. Every movement, or word, or expression always made your heart flutter. He was perfect, and nobody in the world could ever compare to him. You applied a bit more pressure, letting your head fall back at the feeling. A quiet moan escaped your lips, hitting him with force. He closed his eyes, trying to stop himself from getting up and fucking you right then and there.

You lifted your hand that was supporting you and leaned back on your elbow, instead, giving him a better view. You brought your hand to your breast, the pad of your thumb drifting over your nipple while you touched yourself at the same time. You really wanted to give him a show, part of it being because it was a show of an apology, and the other part being quite selfish. You knew that the faster you gave him what he wanted, the more likely he was to get you off. Your eyes drifted back to him, settling on his face and soaking up every bit of his expression. He had a scowl, and his jaw was hard set. His eyes were almost feral looking, and he was watching you intently. His hand was wrapped around himself, slowly but steadily moving. It was just enough to get a bit of relief. You could tell he wanted to save his stamina for when he finally decided to fuck you.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about.” He ordered.

“You, Jake.” You sighed, another groan escaping your mouth. His breath caught in his throat at the sound of you saying his name like that.

“Mhm,” he made a noise of confirmation “You better be.”

“I am,” you promised, catching his gaze. “Only you.” Your steady pace mixed with you being incredibly turned on was causing a knot to form in the pit of your stomach. He knew you well enough to pick up on it by your expression alone.

“Don’t.” He warned. You gave him a pleading look, hoping he’d have a bit of mercy on you. In response, he only shook his head. You let out a whine, slowing your movements to hold on a little longer. You felt the pressure ease, relief crossing your face. “So you can listen,” he noted. “Good job, baby.” The praise was heavenly, washing over you with a warm embrace. You knew he couldn’t keep up with the current situation for much longer; he was eager to get his hands on you again. He didn’t have to say it aloud for you to know that. You took a break from your clit, slipping your hand down a bit further.

You slipped your middle and ring finger inside you, making sure to keep your eyes on him, wanting to see his reaction. You gave him an innocent smile, setting him on fire. You slowly pumped the digit into yourself, clamping down on your bottom lip with your teeth and letting out a sigh of pleasure. You couldn’t keep your eyes on him for very long, equating it to torture in your mind. You only had to work at yourself for a moment, riling him up faster by the second. “God, I wish it was you touching me, instead, Jake.” You whined, eyelids fluttering closed for a second.

It was almost like you flipped a switch; suddenly, the sultry looks and lust-filled noises drove him over the edge. He stood, almost knocking the chair over as he did so, and advanced towards you. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you up to meet his lips. There was no gentle nature to be found, just volatile desire that you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. Once he’d fulfilled his need to kiss you, both of his hands grabbed you by the hips and roughly brought you to the edge of the island. He grabbed your wrist, abruptly moving your hand to your side. He replaced it with his own, fingers gathering your arousal and pushing inside you. He let his thumb slide up to your bundle of nerves, brushing it over the sensitive area every time he pumped his fingers into you. You were over the moon at the new found contact, although abrupt. You were trying to wrap your head around the rapid change while welcoming it at the same time.

“F-fuck, Jake.” You moaned, letting the weight of your head fall back into his hand.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” He whispered, trying to cover his own tone of neediness. He didn’t need a verbal answer to his question; your expression was more than enough. As much as he was dominant, he was also a giver. Knowing he was making you feel good was more than enough to satisfy him. Watching you was great, but it was nothing compared to him being the reason behind your pleasure. His fingers curled upwards ever so slightly, hitting that spot inside you he knew all too well. “How fast can you cum for me, angel?”

“I-i don’t..” you trailed off, only focused on the feeling of his hands working magic on you.

“You don’t what?” He asked. You could hear the smirk in his voice without even looking at him. “Make it quick, before I change my mind.” He leaned down, making you lean back, too. He pulled one of your nipples into his mouth, gently grazing his teeth over it. You hated to admit that he already had you teetering on the edge. After years of practice, he knew you well enough to know exactly what to do. An expert of sorts, if you had to label it. You reached a hand out, grabbing on to his bicep for support while your other one was anchored on the countertop. You had already pushed yourself to the edge once, and it wasn’t hard for him to get you back there.

“Jake, m’gonna cum.” You announced. His pace didn’t change, only encouraging you further. It was embarrassing at how fast he could bring you to an orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Come on.” His voice was low, only audible due to how close he was to you. He said it like he needed it, too. It only took the small push from him to send you into your first orgasm. Your legs were shaking, your arm barely holding you up. You barely managed his name through the mess of vulgar noises that came from your mouth. Instead of coaxing you through your orgasm, his movements never tapered. By the time you were coming down from the high, the overstimulation had already started to take over.

“Jake!” You gasped, unable to free yourself from his grip.

“You’re fine.” He said, a hint of venom still in his tone. Your eyes were screwed shut, the unpleasant feeling starting to drive you insane. He noticed the look of discomfort on your face, questioning himself for a moment. “Color.” He whispered, the act completely out the window. His thumb was still working over your clit, just with less pressure.

“Green.” You hissed, knowing deep down that you could handle it. You knew the reward after was worth the moment of discomfort. He wasn’t sure if he believed you, so he gave you another chance to speak up. “Green.” You said again, noticing he was holding back a bit. At the assurance, he continued working at you. The feeling was intense, but you coached yourself through it, and eventually, the knot in your belly tightened once more, although not fully covering the uncomfortable sensation the movements were producing. When your next orgasm tore through you, it was powerful enough to make you lose the strength in your arms. If not for Jake holding you up, you would have fallen backwards. When you relaxed against him, he slowly withdrew his hand from you. Your chest was heaving, sweat glistening on you, and your face was flushed. He took in the sight, letting the picture burn a memory in his brain.

He only let you recover for a moment before ridding himself of his pants completely and sinking to his knees. You let out a groan, barely back to earth from his previous actions. His eyes looked up to you, wordlessly checking to see if you were ready to keep going. He didn’t speak again, but placed a few kisses on the inside of your thighs. Just when you relaxed into him, thinking maybe he’d gotten his fill of being an asshole, he let his teeth sink into the sensitive skin. You jumped slightly at the sudden feeling, not expecting it. He continued on, barely aware of your reaction, and sucked a few marks into you. By the time he’d worked himself up to your cunt, you had surpassed your overstimulation, and quickly became eager for him to continue on.

“You want it, don’t you?” He teased, mouth only inches away from your heat.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“How bad?” His eyes flickered up to your face again. Your lips turned downward, almost into a frown.

“You want me to beg for you?” You questioned, not realizing how challenging your tone sounded. His eyes turned stony, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Thought you said you wanted me, angel?” He pulled back slightly. You felt your stomach sink, hoping you hadn’t made too much of a mistake.

“I do, Jake. I’m sorry.” You rushed out.

“Then fucking tell me how bad you want it.” His scowl had returned, his order clearly stating that he wasn’t in the mood for any argument. You realized it was less about dominance, and more about him needing to hear the words, needing to feel needed. You reached down, placing your hand on his cheek and letting your thumb run over the soft skin.

“So bad, Jake. I need you.” You whispered. Involuntarily, he leaned into the touch. You could feel his rigidness soften, almost immediately calmed by the feeling of your hand on him. “Please.” You gave him a look of desire, softening your features. “I want it so bad, I’ll do anything. Only you can make me feel this good.” That seemed to be exactly what he needed to hear. He didn’t make you work any harder for it; before you were even finished your sentence, his mouth was on you. You let your fingers tangle in his hair, holding on to him while his tongue ran through you. You let out a sigh of pleasure when he focused on your clit. His fingers sunk into your skin, holding you as if he was scared you were going to get away, sure to leave marks in the morning. He was working at you as if he starved, cautious as to not miss out on a second of the experience.

You were unable to contain any of your moans, giving him exactly what he wanted to hear from you. You’re tugged at the roots of his hair, another way of letting him know how good he was making you feel. He pulled back from you for a moment, moving his thumb in place of his tongue. “Does that feel good, baby?”

“So good, Jake.” You struggled to get the words out, too caught up in the moment.

“Don’t be shy. I wanna hear all of those pretty noises.” He ordered. He didn’t let you respond, already having his tongue take over again. He slipped his index and middle finger back inside you, adding the extra bit of stimulation for you. He was determined to fulfil his earlier promise; he wanted you so fucked out that he was the only thing you could think of. Little to his knowledge, he didn’t have to do much for that to be true. He was always at the front of your mind, wiggling his way into every thought and action. This part was just a bonus for you.

In retaliation to his statement, you decided to up your game a bit; if he wanted to hear noises, you were more than willing to give it to him. The moans and curses you let out were pornographic, sure to be heard by the neighbours if they listened hard enough.

You could tell he was enjoying himself, too, humming against you and taking in sharp breaths when a sound he particularly liked was heard.

His fingers curled upwards in just the right way, causing you to give an involuntary tug on his his hair. He only used it at motivation, ensuring to repeat the same action with each movement. His skills at guitar had paid off fantastically for you in the bedroom. “Fuck,” you groaned, feeling the familiar pressure build once more. “God, please don’t stop, Jake. Feels so good.” You whined, letting your head fall back in ecstasy. He took the praise to heart, making sure to keep his movements steady. He was focusing on keeping his hand and tongue at the same speed, wanting to allow you to get the most of the pleasure. It didn’t take much longer for you to come undone, gripping at his hair and uttering curses. He only eased up when you started to come down, taking the opportunity to get a good look at you. Your eyeliner was beginning to run, and your lipstick was smudged. Your hair was messy and your eyelids were heavy as you looked down to meet his gaze. He had to admire your beauty even in the disarray. He thought you were the most beautiful thing that ever walked the earth.

He removed his fingers, standing in an instant. He took hold of your hips again, pulling you as close to the edge of the table as he could. Your head was still spinning as he used his hand to line himself up with your entrance. He had no more willpower to wait any longer. You both let out a sigh of relief when he pushed himself inside of you, the feeling intensified by the lingering sensitivity of your last orgasm. The position was a bit awkward, making it hard for him to move, but it didn’t bother either of you very much. The intimacy was what you craved, and it was giving you just that. He brought one of his hands to your face, letting his thumb trail over your bottom lip. You parted your lips, pulling the digit into your mouth and lightly suctioning your cheeks around it. He let out a long exhale through his nose, the tail end of it sounding more like a growl produced from his chest. He slowly moved his hips, rocking into you agonizingly slow. You opted to just enjoy it while it lasted, knowing the gentle nature would be out the window soon.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth, a small pop sounding as he did so. His hand drifted towards your neck, fingers ghosting over your skin. His thrusts didn’t speed, but did get more forceful. You couldn’t help but let out a gasp as the tip of his cock brushed your cervix, sending a jolt of pleasurable pain through you. “Just like that, baby?” He asked, eyes boring into you. His fingers tightened slightly on your neck, leaving you to believe his concerned inquiry was a bit misleading. “Does that feel good?” You hooked your leg around his waist, drawing him even closer. It gave him the answer he was looking for, although nonverbal. “Such a dirty little whore.” He hummed, clearly pleased by your action. “Is this all you wanted? To get fucked?” His eyes scanned your face, the flame still dancing in his pupils. “Didn’t matter whose bed you were in, as long as there was a cock inside you?” His fingers tightened again, finally enough pressure to restrict the blood flow. “Or did want to go home with him?”

He knew you were unable to answer; he was talking to himself, and taunting you in the process. He knew the minute he took his hand away from your neck, you’d be talking back, and he wasn’t particularly fond of that idea. He leaned in, lips hovering over your ear as he fucked into you. He knew he’d have to release his hold on you soon; he may have been willing to degrade you, a few slaps or spankings, but never seriously harm you. He didn’t want you to fear he would, either. “You think he’d fuck you like this? Make you feel this good?” He whispered, breath hot and tone gravelly. He clamped down on your neck tighter once more, completely restricting any blood or airflow. He felt you let out a pointless, choked gasp, not getting anything from it. He bit down on your earlobe, one final move before he loosened his hand. You let in a long, desperate breath, filling your lungs as much as you could. You coughed, sputtering for a moment at the sudden burst of oxygen. He let his fingers gently massage the area he’d just assaulted, wanting you to know without breaking character that he was, in fact, just acting. His head was still down by your ear, scared if he looked up he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from cumming.

You were agitated from his words, feeling the bratty part of you start to surface once more. If he was so willing to talk down on you, you weren’t afraid to give it back. You hadn’t fully thought out the whole thing, only depending on your bruised feelings for clarity. “Don’t be so cocky. You call this fucking?” You challenged, voice was still raspy from his hand around your throat. He stiffened, pulling back from you as if you’d burned him.

“What did you say?” His hips stopped, too. His expression was feral, and his body tense.

“What, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” A smirk was playing on your lips. “If you’re not going to do it right, I can go call-“ your sentence was cut short by his palm retracting from your throat and colliding with your cheek, throwing your head to the side. It caught you completely off guard; your train of thought disappearing and his body language now anything but loving. Admittedly, he’d hit you a bit harder than intended, but he was in no state of mind to cater to you. Without so much as an utter of concern, he pulled out of you roughly grabbed your hips, yanking you off the table and onto your feet.

You didn’t have time to process the change before he spun you around. His hand found your hair and he forced your upper half down onto the countertop. He wasn’t gentle with his touch, shoving your face into the table until your cheek was squished against the wood. He took in the sight, your skirt still pushed up to your bellybutton. In a rash decision reliant on emotion, he grabbed a fistful of the bunched up fabric and gave a hard pull, busting it at the seams and ripping it from your body. He could buy you another to make up for it, he decided. Now less concerned about the sex, and more worried about your favourite skirt, you opened your mouth to protest. “Jake-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Your time for talking was over; you’d pushed him just a bit too far. He let the now torn clothing fall to the floor, grabbing his belt from beside you. He maneuvered it so it was folded in half, all whilst still holding you to the table. “You think he could do a better job?” He seethed, running the cold leather across your bare ass. When you didn’t respond, he lifted the belt and brought it down with force, causing a sharp sound and a lasting sting. “Do you really think anybody could?” His hand in your hair tightened, driving your cheek even harder into the table. He had no care for your comfortability, now. “I should just leave you here, make you get yourself off, instead, since I’m not doing it right. Would you like that?”

“N-no,” you squeaked, mentally preparing for another blow. Just as you expected, another searing sensation spread across your backside, causing you to jump.

“If you want him so bad, then go. But don’t think for a second he can give you half of what I can.” You could hear the sneer in his voice. “Do you understand me?” You weren’t sure if he wanted you to answer, or if it was rhetorical. When the belt flashed across your skin the third time, it was made clear he wanted a verbal confirmation. “I said, do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, sir.” Tears were spilling onto your cheeks, teeth grinding at the pain from the leather. But, you had pushed him, and you were more than aware of the consequences when you misbehaved.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again.” His tone dropped, less authority and more finality. You heard the belt fall to the floor, followed immediately by him lining himself up with you. There was no adjustment period before he pushed himself into you again, taking no mercy with the power behind his hips. You let out a yelp when he slammed into your cervix, but he was in no hurry to ask if you were okay. You had no time to recover before he repeated the same action.

His hips were moving at a brutal pace, all of the anger from the night being let out at once and building up to a dramatic climax. He was still holding your hair, never easing up on the weight of his hand holding you down. His other hand was holding your hip, keeping you in place while he fucked you. There was no ability to keep yourself quiet; the sounds falling from your lips were obscene, pleasure bordering pain creating a whole new feeling. He pulled your hips back a bit, giving more space between your legs and the edge of the table. He slipped his hand around to the front of you, fingers finding your clit with expert precision.

“How’s this? Good enough for you?” He growled. You couldn’t find the words to respond, eyes squeezed shut as all of the stimulation acted together to bring you to the brink of insanity. His finger danced over your already sensitive bundle of nerves, coaxing another orgasm out of you almost effortlessly. He was almost smiling at the noises you were making, arrogant enough to know how good he was making you feel.

“F-fuck, Jake,” you managed out, some form of confirmation that you heard his words.

“What’s wrong?” He tormented, voice wavering slightly at his rapid movements. “You asked for it, now you can’t handle it?” He showed no signs of slowing down or easing up; he was determined to prove a point, now, and he wasn’t backing down. He heard a familiar moan fall from your lips, your walls tightening against him slightly as you did so. He knew you were close, and it was only encouraging him further. Within a few seconds, you were caught up in another orgasm, all of your muscles tense and your throat coarse from crying out his name. You couldn’t allow yourself to relax as you came down, his hips nor his fingers letting up.

“Jake, please, I can’t.” You pleaded.

“You can, and you will.” He dismissed you, fully aware of the state you were in. He could see the tears staining your skin, your mascara fully running down your face. Your cheeks were red, burning with heat, and sweat glistening on your forehead. “Color.”

“Green, fuck!” You expelled, frustrated with your own unwillingness to give in. Every nerve in your body was on fire, begging you to stop, or take a break, but you were still enjoying yourself. You knew he was, too, and that was most of your motivation. He continued as if there was no question asked in the first place, never easing up on your clit, either. You were on the brink of screams, desperately trying to contain the moans ripping from your chest.

“You gonna give me another one, angel?” He asked, venom still present in his tone. You knew he wasn’t being so generous with orgasms for your sake, it was solely a personal agenda for him to prove a point. You were completely unwilling to cum for him again, but his fingers were forcing your body to betray you. He knew it, too, only allowing the cockiness to grow. “You ready to admit it, now? You want to tell me the truth?” He hissed, eyes never leaving your face. Before you could reply, the pressure in your belly peaked once more. He’d successfully forced another orgasm from you, letting the pride settle in his bones. Before you fully came down, he was already lifting your upper body off of the table so you were standing. He was aware of your lack of strength, assuring he was holding you tight enough so you wouldn’t fall over.

He pulled out of you, still supporting you with his arm, and turned you around. You were exhausted, completely at his disposal. You weren’t the least but worried, knowing he would take care of you; if you said the word, he’d stop immediately. “Arms around me.” He told you, a little gentler than his earlier orders. You obeyed, snaking your arms around his neck. His hands fell to your ass, lifting you up in one swift motion. You wrapped your legs around him, almost as if it were muscle memory. He carried you over to the wall, pressing your back into it. As much as he enjoyed the accessibility of the last position, the simplicity of doing whatever he pleased to you, he wanted to see your face. He kept one hand firm on your ass, holding you up, and guided himself back inside you with his other. The position change had given you a minute to calm down, just as he was hoping it would. He rested there for a moment, not making any further advances.

“Look at me.” He snapped. You lifted your eyes, barely keeping them open, and met his gaze. His expression was hard, but no longer malicious. He couldn’t find it in himself to stay angry with you; the sight of your face so close to his was enough to immediately soften his heart. “I want to hear you say it, angel.” He whispered, stare burning into you. “Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.”

“You are, Jake.” You breathed, unable to lie about it and risk any more punishment. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody could replace you.” Your voice was quiet, all of your energy completely drained. But, you were speaking from the heart, and he could tell. He leaned in, resting his forehead on yours. Slowly, he started rocking his hips into you again. The feeling was so much different, now. His movements careful, filled with love. He’d proved his point beyond intention, and he was well aware of it. All of the anger was gone, and he just wanted to be close to you, now.

“You’re mine, baby. You know that.” He hummed. “Nobody else even gets to think about you, like this.”

“M’yours, Jake. All yours.” You promised, hoping he’d lean forward just enough so you could kiss him. “I don’t want anyone else.��� Your fight was gone, now, not as if there was a lot there in the first place. Your back talk seemed to hurt him a little more than intended, and all you wanted was to make up for it.

“I know, honey.” He assured you. “Me, too.” His sincerity was staggering, the softness of those two words were the most profound vulnerability he’d ever shown during sex. You felt like you were seeing right through him. “Gonna take care of you, now. Okay?” You managed a nod, filled with relief when he leaned forward to connect his mouth with yours. You tangled your fingers in the hair at the base of his head, holding him to you. You didn’t want him to pull back, savouring the loving gesture as if your life depended on it. The sensation of him fucking into you so carefully while he was kissing you was more euphoric than anything else you’d felt that night. Not often did you get slow sex with Jake, and it was just as phenomenal, if not more. Something about the emotion, the complete transparency, was unmatched.

“I love you,” you mumbled against his lips, causing his fingers to tighten on you. He pulled back slightly, just enough space between your mouths to speak.

“Fuck, y/n, say it again.” He ordered, but it sounded more like a plea.

“I love you, Jake. So much.” You groaned, losing yourself to the feeling of him inside you. You were sure there was nothing that could feel better than that.

“I love you, y/n.” He closed his eyes, jaw clenching as he rode through the blissful proclamation. You could tell he was close, and you were eager for him to get there. “God, you feel so good.” You let your hand come up to his cheek, holding his face while your thumb drifted over the soft skin. “Can you cum for me one more time?” You nodded as best you could with his forehead against yours.

“Just kiss me, please.” He didn’t need to be asked twice, his lips were on yours again in an instant. You kissed him with a hunger that could only be satisfied by him. He picked up his pace a bit, silently begging you to cum, just so he could, too. He had been holding himself back for long enough that it had started to become painful. He pulled you down on him every time he thrusted, just for a little more impact. That was enough for you; with the added pressure, he reached the spot inside you that only he could. Your legs tightened around him and your fingers grasped at him, letting him know you were there again. He pulled back, wanting the full view this time. Your head fell backwards against the wall, eyes closed in pleasure. You breathed his name between moans, finding it impossible to think of anything but him as your final orgasm washed over you.

At the sound of his name spoken so beautifully, and the sight of your blissful expression, he couldn’t help but lose himself to the feeling, too. He pulled you down on him one last time, holding you there as he spilled his release into you. He slumped over, pressing you further into the wall and letting his head rest in the crook of your neck. He was breathless, completely overpowered by euphoria. He didn’t withdraw right away, wanting to savour the moment of intimacy with you. Nothing but heavy breathing sounded through the kitchen, both of you chest to chest and feeling your heartbeats against each other. He turned his head inwards towards your neck, placing a few kisses into it. He left a few light marks, just as a final reminder of the entire night.

“You okay?” He asked, still resting his head on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” He murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too.” He finally pulled back from you, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“Bath?” He asked. You nodded, giving him a small smile. He carried you to the bathroom carefully, not pulling out of you yet in avoidance of a mess. Once you were in the bathroom, he withdrew and let you get cleaned up. He flicked on the faucet for the bathtub, letting the warm water run before closing the drain stopper. He grabbed your package of makeup wipes pulling a few out and setting it back on the counter. “C’mere.” He whispered. You turned towards him, leaning into his hand reaching for you. He gently wiped at the smudged makeup, cleaning you up as best he could. He discarded the dirty wipes in the trash and placed a kiss on your lips.

By the time he finished, the bathtub was full and more than ready for the both of you. He flipped off the faucet, helping you in first. As you settled in, he couldn’t help but notice the marks littering your thighs and ass. He felt a sinking feeling of regret, checking your face for where he’d slapped you. It was red, slightly irritated, but seemed as though it would fade away soon. There was a small welt on your cheek from where his ring sat on his finger. He got in, too, settling behind you and pulling you into him. The warm water soothed your aching muscles, allowing you to fully relax into his hold. With your back pressed against him, you were fully surrounded in comfort. You rested your head against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. After a moment, he lifted his hand to your cheek, fingers gently running over the inflamed area.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He said, lips turned down into a frown. “I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.”

“I’m okay.” You promised, turning your head and placing a kiss to his thumb. “Let’s just… never do that again. The sex was great, but I don’t like fighting with you. I also really didn’t like whatever we were doing at the bar… it was gross and childish.”

“I agree. No girl in the world deserve the time of day, especially when I have you to come home to. I started the whole thing. I know you and Josh would never do that to me. You guys really weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary, I was just in a shitty mood.”

“Yeah, but I knew you were upset. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I was being an asshole, and I really shouldn’t have let him sing that song. I knew it was a bad idea when I saw it come up on the screen.”

“You didn’t pick it?” He asked, fingers still caressing the spot on your face where he’d slapped you.

“No, of course not, Jake. I was mad at you, but I’d never go that far.” His stomach sank.

“I’m sorry I danced with her. I knew it would hurt you, and it was wrong. I shouldn’t have assumed you would do that, either.”

“That did hurt me, a lot.” You admitted, feeling no need to lie about it. “You’ve never really been jealous before. Where the hell did that come from?”

“I don’t know.” He was honest. “I was mad at Josh all day, and when I saw you guys being so nice to each other and dancing to those songs, especially while I was so upset…I guess it just felt like he made you shine a little brighter than I did, tonight. I feel like I dim your light, sometimes.” He mumbled the last part, almost afraid to admit it out loud. You felt your heart break at his words.

“Jake, Josh is my best friend. My brother. Of course I have fun with him, but that’s all it is. Yeah, I love him, but I’ve never once felt that kind of love for him. I’m in love with you. You don’t have to make me shine all of the time, because you complete me. You can’t always make me shine brighter, especially when you’re the one who ignited the flame in the first place.” He had one arm snaked under yours, lazily strewn across your torso just under your chest. He used that arm to pull you closer to him, still letting his fingers dance over your cheek.

“I love you.” He sighed. “I never want to do that again, either. It was so stupid. I never want to hurt you like that again.” He placed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ll never be able to say I’m sorry enough to make up for it.”

“I’m sorry, too. If me being so close with Josh makes you feel that way, I can take a step back. You’re the most important person to me, no matter what.”

“No, baby. Never bothered me before, I guess I just felt a bit forgotten about. Got in my own head, and instead of talking to you about it, I tried to make you feel the same way. Next time, I promise I’ll talk to you. You’re my most important person, too. Seeing that look on your face when you left the bar made me realize how easy I could lose you, and I never want that to happen.”

“Guess we learned our lesson, then, ‘cause I really don’t want to lose you, either.” You laced your fingers through his, running your thumb over the back of his hand.

“The sex was fantastic, though.” He chuckled after a moment of silence. “I hope I didn’t hurt you too bad. I got a little to caught up in the moment.”

“I’m okay,” you laughed. “Maybe a bit sore, but it was my own fault. Shouldn’t have talked back like that.”

“You were being bratty, weren’t you?” He pondered back to the earlier scene in the kitchen.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it. Just wanted to get under your skin.” You giggled, sinking a bit lower into the water.

“I know, beautiful. You did a good job at it, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah, my ass knows it, too.” You grumbled. He laughed, leaning down and peppering a few kisses over your shoulders. You melted into the touch, happy to have things back to normal.

“Hey, y/n?” He asked, lips still drifting over your skin.

“Hmm?” You hummed, eyes closed in peacefulness.

“I don’t want you to stop dancing with Josh. But I do think that maybe I wouldn’t mind dancing with you, too, if that’s okay.” He whispered. A smile broke onto your lips at his words.

“That’s more than okay, Jake.” He dropped his other arm, wrapping it around you, too. He pulled you into a hug, love completely surrounding you, now. “I love you.”

“I love you, angel. God, I’ll dance with you every day for the rest of my life if it means I get to have you like this.” He sighed. “I was stupid for not wanting to, before. I can sacrifice a little embarrassment to get a smile on that pretty face of yours.” You couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Don’t have to do that to make me smile, baby. You know that. You can have me like this for the rest of your life even if you don’t dance with me.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t mind it. I’d do anything to make you happy.” You almost rolled your eyes at the statement. He said it as if he didn’t do that already.

“You already give me the world, Jacob. What more could you do to make me happy?”

“I’ll stop when I can give you the universe, instead of just the world.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll buy you a new skirt and take you out tomorrow night, make up for everything. Wear your best shoes, cause you won’t be able to get away from the dance floor.” A smile grew on your lips, too.

“Can’t wait.” And you meant it. Not just for the dancing, or a night out, or the promise of a replacement skirt for the one he’d destroyed. You couldn’t wait simply because you were excited to be with him. You were certain you could live the rest of your life deprived of all modern comfort, but if Jake was by your side, you’d be the happiest person to have ever lived.

[class1akids]

Nonnie asked: Is there a reason you’ve become so hostile towards Deku and Bakugou? Is it because the two main characters of the show get the spotlight main characters usually get? Or because All Might doesn’t pay as much attention to Shouto as he does to the other two, who have been set up from the early chapters to be his successors? It just seems unfair that ppl are hating the fact that Bakugou shared the title of ‘greatest hero’ when this has been set up from the start?

I've been hesitating whether to reply this bait question, but here it goes fwiw:

1. I'm not hostile to Deku and Bakugou as characters, but I have criticism of how the story handles them as of late. It's not the same. I think their dynamic was interesting until the apology chapter, but there was nothing truly interesting Hori managed to do with their dynamic after that, imho. They both had potential to have interesting dynamic with others (Deku with Shigaraki in particular), but in the end the writing remained pretty lackluster all around. 

2. I really really dislike interacting with the arrogant and entitled shipping fandom and have been making a lot of efforts to mute it / avoid it. That’s not the same as hating the characters. 

3. Btw, MHA has one MC - it's Deku. Then it has a main cast which prominently includes Bakugou, but also includes many other characters. Fans of those characters have also been given legitimate expectations (like the villains being saved, for example) for both spotlight and pay-off and have every right to criticize the story for not delivering on it. I’m sick of you guys pretending that every other character is “background”. 

4. I'm mostly laughing at the "greatest heroes" stuff, because it's not about the "set-up", it's about the delivery. I have a really hard time seeing in what way they earned the greatest heroes title especially in a chapter that talks about Deku failing his fundamental narrative challenge of saving his villain in a meaningful way, or engaging with his issues.

I can kind of stretch myself and see how the final arc brought together people whose lives he touched (or saved on EZ-mode like Gentle and Nagant) back in the days when he was a passable MC. 

Bakugou though? He was just one of a bunch of people who beat AFO. What makes him "greater" than Jirou who destabilized his quirks, than Tokoyami who smashed his helmet, than Endeavor who actually did kill him and forced him on the rewind, than Hawks, Mt Lady, Inasa, Camie, etc.? 

Everyone in this final arc faced threats they were too weak to face, yet they did it (Sero, Satou coming in to save Deku against AFO they have no hopes to survive) anyways. What makes Bakugou more exceptional? That he managed to die? Every single character pushed way past their limits (even if they didn't get the praise). 

Even All Might could only come up with "you are greatest because you saved my life" which feels a bit tone-deaf in a chapter where he also says "oh well as long as he wasn't crying anymore he’s saved - Tomura's actual life didn't matter that much". 

5. So I'm bitter, because I actually like Bakugou's character and care deeply about him and wanted him to be greatest in a satisfying way. But to me, his endgame felt seriously lacking. 

He's a charismatic character that could have inspired many and he's smart so he could have worked great with others. But instead, he had been once again made a damsel, his team was sacrificed for him and he barely acknowledged that and even this chapter says "yeah, he did all these awesome things, we don't really know how because it was all asspull, but isn't he magnificent?" 

So I deeply resent that the final arc made Bakugou look like the creator's pet the fandom always accused him of being. Lots of glaze, but actually very little substance. To me at least it wasn't satisfying. 

 6. As for Shouto - I honestly don't care about All Might anymore. I've always felt so-so about his character, but I was interested in the "deconstruction", for the story to tell us how his system was untenable.  Well, the final arc also destroyed any deconstruction his character and the society he built may have had, basically validating his reign as the Symbol of Peace and arbiter of Greatest Hero gold stars, as well as Most Important Life To Be Saved (tm). 

 Shouto's arc is about validating and affirming his own reasons for existence, defining what his power is and I don't need All Might to tell me that how great he is. I think his actions, as well as the hundreds of lives he saved speak loud enough.  I do resent shit like Hori offscreening him in Ch 422 only to offscreen him again for Bakugou in 423, but like I guess in the grand scheme of things, we don't really need a scene to know he'll support his friends to his last breath, because that's like a given for his character. 

 At this point, all I'm hoping for is that he will get a fitting narrative conclusion - even if it's just a hug from his mom, and not have another writing fumble destroy his character arc. Shouto will always be an icon for people who understand and respect his journey and his quiet heroism.   [Smile or comment on the answer here](https://retrospring.net/@class1akids/a/112534216876296276)

[klausysworld]

Can i ask if you could do a yandere!klaus one where the reader gets away but gets picked up by one of his siblings?

I adore your writing

I get scared sometimes

It was cruel really.

Kol had helped me escape.

He had come up with the plan, he had given me the money to get away and told me the train schedules. He had distracted Klaus so that I could escape.

But it was a game to him.

It was a ploy to get in his brothers favour.

Kol hand me by the hair as he dragged me kicking and screaming up the stairs

“Niiik! I found your little pet!” He yelled while holding me up as though I were a fish he had caught.

Klaus’s expression was dark as he stepped out from him room

“Drop her” he commanded and Kol released me to the ground with a chuckle. I curls into myself instantly and my hands hand the back of my head hoping that he hadn’t ripped out my hair. Choked cries left my mouth as I was pulled up from the ground and carried back to Klaus’s room.

The door slammed shut beside us and I was held up by my neck, his hand had a tight grip around my throat and forced me to look up at him. I let out a sob making his eyes flash gold and a growl to crawl up from his throat

“What on earth are you crying for?” He whispered in a dangerous tone. I hyperventilated as I tried to get out from his hold but he squeezed tighter.

“No no no, you won’t be going very far now my love.” He sneered before losing his grip and having me fall to the ground once again.

“Stop” I whispered in a sob while crawling toward the bed to hide beneath it but he was picking me straight back up and shoving me onto the mattress and getting on top of me. His knees where either side of my hips and his hands held my upper arms down as his face hovered over mine.

“Would you stop running? Stop trying to leave me!” He yelled and I hiccuped on my cries as I held them in.

It wasn’t my first attempt to run away.

It was the first time I had gotten that far though. It must’ve scared him knowing I managed to get so far out of reach, if only he knew that I hadn’t done it myself.

“I’m-Im sorry” I whispered. There were limited ways I could play this.

I could throw Kol under the bus and hope that Klaus believes me which is unlikely at this moment in time.

I could fight, kick, hit scream, and eventually be tied up and gagged to shut me up.

Or I could play manipulative and hope that he’s vulnerable enough to believe me.

I stopped any struggle against him and closed my eyes. My breathing slowly evened out, when I looked back to him his eyes were sadder than before, anger still there but that insecurity was back, and it was exactly what I needed in my position.

I moved my arm cautiously, he allowed me to lift my hand up to cup his face. He leaned into my touch and sighed. I brought my other hand to cup the other side and used my thumbs to stroke his cheek bones.

He leaned forward so our foreheads pressed together, his nose brushed mine and then our lips.

“I’m so sorry” I whispered and he sighed out again, I felt some of the weight of his body on mine as he seemingly relaxed a little

“Why do you run from me?” He asked quietly

“I don’t know” I told him “I just get scared”

“Of me?” He questioned, a crack in his voice as he asks

“Of how much you love me” I murmur “I’ve never been loved so much” I brought my hand to the back of his head “And I’ve never loved someone as much as I love you….it scares me” I tell him with a sniff “I just…I figured if I left first then you wouldn’t be able to leave me”

His body entirely relaxes against me and his lips press to mine, I kiss him back softly and my fingers curl around his hair

“I’m so sorry” I whispered as he pulled away

His hands wiped my cheeks as he sat up and pulled me with him

“It’s okay, I understand” he admits and gives a small, sad smile. “But I will never, ever leave you, so please…don’t be afraid anymore” he pleads “I would never hurt you like that”

“I don’t mean to hurt you” I tell him with tears in my eyes

“I know you don’t, you’re protecting yourself” he murmured with a nod “but I will protect you now, you don’t have to worry ever again” he promises

“I can’t help it” I whispered. He pulled me to his chest and rubbed my back

“Then I’ll help you” he mumbled “you will always be safe here, I’ll stay with you…always and forever”

[sideblogforquery-argh]

People are not using pronouns, using wrong words, but I don’t remind anyone verbally. TW: Su1cide, s3lf h4rm, anorex1a mentions.

TLDR at bottom, I appreciate if anyone reads this or has any advice. Other key points in bold.

I’m sorry this is so long, and I promise this is about nonbinary stuff, but there are Complications, if you will:

1. Autistic doormat. (Professionally diagnosed)

2. Anxious and hates confrontation of any kind.

3. Chronic pain that stops me from going places and doing things.

4. Long history of depression, anxiety, s3lf h4rm, su1cide attempts.

5. Speak in a high pitched voice (not natural, forced again by anxiety of being viewed as competent and mature and not having my limitations taken seriously)

6. Have feminine mannerisms.

7. Have a very slight build and feminine features.

8. I have not had IRL friends for ten years, or online friends for about six.

9. Premenstrual dysphoric disorder.

10. Underweight, low key restrictive eating disorder (I will gladly maintain current weight, but comment on my body, eating habits or try to feed me more and the anorex1a says Hello. Also maintaining low weight to avoid “filling out” as much as possible in breast area.)

I’m 25 and nonbinary. I’ve known I was nonbinary since 2014/2015. I had come out verbally to my mom many years ago, maybe around 2017. Came out to brother via a written sign on my door and then a short verbal confirmation in late spring last year. At my high school graduation last year (age 24) I had my write up read aloud by the principal include “I look forward to being my authentic enby self” and I wore a pronoun pin and necklace. My grandparents were also at the ceremony. I reactivated my Facebook account and posted an artistic image and write up explaining my pronouns, name, etc. I have a variety of pride and pronoun items, pins on my backpack, a They/Them pronoun necklace, a keychain. I usually have some sort of sign declaring my pronouns and sometimes my name on my door. I even attended my local Pride parade and festival last August with my mom. Also since coming out I have explored neopronouns and I like to use Ae/Aer for myself.

Now, as mentioned at the very top, I am a doormat. I hate being bother, I have had huge mental and physical health challenges. I always want to help, to do things, I’ve been trapped at home with no pain free or easy way to go into town. I’ve been alone for a very long time, not attending school, and then trying to do it by myself online. I am also AFAB and I generally don’t present in a “gender non-conforming” matter. (Put in quotes because I am not a girl) Just the other night, there was a talking head on the news who’s name was Tiana* and my mom gleefully exclaimed “her name is Tiana*, she has the same name as you! You almost never hear anyone with the name Tiana*!”

ANYWAYS, to the point, I can never manage to bring myself to verbally remind anyone to use my pronouns. I can’t discuss my dysphoria with anyone, including my counsellor, which has really increased in the last few months. My counsellor had to be told what gender dysphoria is, and he’s trying but I don’t feel comfortable talking to him about it. My PMDD is also not only making my mental health in general really mad, but increasing my gender dysphoria. I have tried birth control for this, and it resulted in a suicide attempt.

I came out a year ago now to the wider family network / world, but it feels like everyone has completely ignored that fact. I came out of the closet, but a new, iron maiden style one has been built around me by anyone and everyone who perceives “me.”

I put “me” is quotation marks because it’s not actually me that anyone is seeing or talking to, it’s the mirage of a past person. I just feel so weak and pathetic, I don’t speak up for myself, I just let it happen. I don’t exist, not according to how I am referred to my people the vast majority of the time. They/them does get used at home frequently, but more often it’s my birth name. I’ve gone through waves of uncomfortable indifference to just feeling really shitty, having an abuse of use of that name, where now I am starting to not feel neutral but dislike it. It’s always, “Tiana* this”, and “it’s in Tiana’s* room,” “I think Tiana* has it, don’t you?”

I just feel hopeless. I don’t see myself ever being able to exist as actually myself. If I can’t remind my family in my safe home to use my pronouns; or that I want to use a different name, OR that (body pain permitting) I’d probably like to have my breasts and nipples removed; how am I supposed to reminded anyone else? The massage therapist, the doctor, the other pain specialist, the orthopaedic surgeon, the counsellor, the psychiatrist, the osteopath, anyone and everyone who I’ve ever met before who just, “she/her’s” and “Tiana*’s” me.

*Tiana is not actually my name, it is used for example purposes only.

TLDR: I have a variety of visual objects and signs that describe my pronouns and nonbinary-ness, but I have almost never reminded anyone verbally to use my pronouns and that I am not a girl. The most I can do is squeak out “they” quietly. How can I actually be brave and speak up for myself for once?

[septimusmoonlight]

Anonymous: Idea! Imagine youre happily married and in love with a huge demon, and youre constantly pregnant every 10 to 11 months with absolutely massive children. While sex with your demon is amazing childbirth is always excruciatingly painful as he never lets you have pain relief other than nipple stimulation to make sure your milk comes down to feed his children. Your boycunt is always stretch to the limit but thankful you've never torn but need a few weeks of recovery as it still aches from those massive heads. Then one day your demon decided you knock you up with twins, the pain is even worse than before and the second baby manages to tears your boycunt in two. Your demon loved your pained screams and cries, now only knocking you up with multiples just to watch you boycunt rip all over again and for you to scream. All the while you still love him and willing ruin your cunt for his kids

Oooh, I like this one~

My demon husband is powerful, easily half-again my height and with a cock to match, oversized even for how tall he is. He loves to pin me down and have his way with my body, completely taking control to fill me with his seed in absolutely ridiculous amounts. It’s so hot, so potent, so good that I can’t help but cum over and over again every time he does.

Even while I’m hugely pregnant with healthy, strong half-demon spawn, he still uses me for his pleasure, always caressing every part of my body he can reach, telling me how good I look while I’m marked as his. Maybe his magic is involved somehow, forcing me to enjoy it, but I don’t really care at this point, if I’m honest - it feels too good for me to have any other opinion. Even if there were magic involved, I don’t know if my feelings would change about him if it wore off.

Every single time I give birth, it hurts, no matter how often I do it. Fuck, it hurts so much, I’m stretched so wide, it feels like I’m going to break - my voice hoarse from screaming, my pussy gaping and loose and sore from his massive children, so much bigger than any human should ever have to birth. My husband absolutely loves it, loves pulling me up against his chest so that he can run his hands across my body from behind while I’m pushing out his children and crying for him. He’s always rock-hard, rubbing against my back, and I can tell he struggles not to fuck me again right after the birth, so he just takes my mouth instead, so generously offering to “rehydrate” me after crying so much.

I don’t know what prompts him to do this, but one day he decides to up the ante and somehow knocks me up with twins. I don’t know how or why, but what I do know is that it makes me so much bigger so much faster, and my husband loves it, if his increased ferocity during sex is anything to go by. He loves massaging and caressing my midsection, bragging about how I’m his and his alone forever. When we kiss, his long tongue invades my throat, and I love the feeling of him taking me over so completely.

The first of the twins isn’t much different. It hurts, fuck, it hurts, but that’s normal, I’ve come to expect that - and my husband loves it as he usually does, loves hearing me cry, loves knowing just how much I belong to him. This time, though, I don’t get a break, and the next is already here. It’s just as big as the first, it hurts so much and I feel myself ripping open, the half-demon spawn destroying my body. The whole time, I feel my husband practically rutting against my back, growling praises into my ear interspersed with inhuman hisses of pleasure.

Finally, it’s over. I’m shivering, drenched in sweat, my torn cunt leaking blood. My husband spreads my legs just a bit wider to hear me whimper.

Even though the recovery time is longer, he loves it so much that he always knocks me up with twins, triplets, sometimes even quadruplets, making sure I’m torn open every single time, leaving me as a sobbing, bleeding mess in his arms. His magic helps speed up the process and makes sure I don’t lose too much blood, but he doesn’t heal me completely - he likes knowing that he can destroy my body like this. Even though he doesn’t like seeing me hurt in other ways, this is the single exception, and he can’t help himself, even though he loves me. 

I love him, too, and I can’t deny that the pain itself is something that appeals to me. More than that, I love being owned, I love being his, I love knowing that he can decide to do whatever he wants to me. I’m his, and his alone, and we both know it, especially when I’m screaming in his arms.

[the-one-where-casey-watches-tv]

True Detective episode 1.08 "Form and Void"

I love anthologies. I love the endless potential, and the early seasons of American Horror Story really prove the extent of that potential. It’s also so much cleaner than having a bunch of spinoffs (tell me why American Horror Stories is a thing? Anthologies by definition don’t need a spinoff. Just do it next year). But the later seasons of AHS also embody the downfall of anthologies: if they do too good a job, it can be hard to get excited about the next season because you know that everything you liked about it will be different next time around.

I’ve only seen season one of True Detective, and I’m really trying to talk myself into pressing on, not because I didn’t like it, but because I liked it so much. The people behind this show built themselves some massive shoes to fill, and I’m skeptical that it can be done. Everything about this first season was incredibly deliberate; it was gripping and compelling at every turn, and it all served a larger theme. It even managed to come around to an uplifting final message, which I was pleasantly surprised by as this was one of the darkest things I’ve ever watched.

I tend to cover finales, and that’s because endings are so important to me. It absolutely makes or breaks my entire impression of a show (I reminisce sometimes with “remember when I liked Ozark?”), and True Detective’s season one finale drew a powerful underscore on everything I’ve loved throughout this entire journey. This is a story with purpose, that knew exactly what it was about. As a whole, it had the power of its own Rust Cohle who said things like “I know who I am. After all these years, there’s a victory in that.” and “Given how long it’s taken me to reconcile my nature, I don’t think I’ll forego it on your account”.

Matthew McConaughey in "Form and Void". Image courtesy of IMDb.

“Form and Void” finds Rust and Marty on a boat, holding Steve Geraci at gunpoint, a former sheriff who holds key insight into the Marie Fontenot case. Cohle forces Geraci to handle the tape he stole from Tuttle and watch it, eyes glued to the TV. Geraci watches, screaming as he does, reacting even more strongly than Marty. Some people seem to find it cheesy that rather than showing us the tape, they show us these ‘hard, seasoned men’ struggling to watch it, but I think that’s exactly the point.

A crucial thing this show is about is the difference between bad and evil. Marty’s a pretty bad guy I’d say- lies, cheats, beats people up, calls his daughter and wife whores- but he’s also a human being with emotions and limits and can function in our society. The crimes of this case are on the fringes of humanity. This show does a great job displaying the depths of these atrocities without forcing us to look at something unspeakable. Making the characters do it for us not only shows us the nature of the crimes, but the nature of the people. Errol Williams Childress, the man with the face like spaghetti, the undocumented Louisiana man who committed these crimes, is as evil as a person can be while still being a human being (“he’s worse than anybody”). And fighting him with such force makes Marty a ‘good’ man in the biblical sense, despite being so flawed that he’s hard for regular folks like you and me to really get behind.

Marty struggles a lot with his conscience over the course of this story, and Maggie ultimately acknowledges that he “didn’t know who he was, so he didn’t know what to want”. Rust, who, of course, knows exactly who he is, doesn’t have patience for Marty’s hemming and hawing. When Marty asks if Rust ever wonders if he’s a bad man, Rust doesn’t hesitate to say that “the world needs bad men. We keep the other bad men from the door”. The idea that bad men can do good- by protecting the world from worse men- is a major takeaway, and one that I really like.

Woody Harrelson in "Form and Void". Image courtesy of IMDb.

And Rust may have been stewing in a storage unit obsessing over this for years, but it’s ultimately Marty who finds the key clue that brings everything to a head. He recognizes a fresh coat of green paint on a house in Erath, drawing the connection to the green ears in the description of their subject. Adrenaline pumping from the new discovery, Marty and Rust head out to find out who painted the house.

An interview with the old woman who lived in the house in ’95 confirmed that she had her house painted by men who worked for her parish- the Tuttle church community. Rust and Marty were able to track her husband’s payment for the job to Childress and Son Maintenance, which yielded an address to the Childress property. They head over. This is it. This is the place. Rust can tell by the taste of the air.

“That taste. Aluminum, ash. I’ve tasted it before”. Marty, used to his partner saying weird shit, but ever the human being who’s realizing they’re walking into a life-threatening situation, simply says, “you still see things ever?”. Rust replies, “It never stops, not really. What happened to my head, it’s not something that gets better”. Not a reassuring answer to Marty, but Rust’s proximity to insanity is the very thing that keeps him safe amongst actual psychopaths. Similarly, Marty’s ability to read people is a skill the show makes sure we’re aware of despite his gruff, bumbling personality.

That skill is what made Marty feel comfortable calling Papania, one of the two interrogating officers when they arrived on the scene. But alas, there’s no service. That’s typically a frustrating and unnecessary roadblock in suspense stories, but it just feels realistic out here in bumfuck Louisiana. So, Marty forces his way into the home in search of a landline while Rust secures the perimeter. Marty overpowers Childress’s girlfriend (wife?), but not before she can say some truly haunting shit about the man they’re here for.

Ann Dowd and Glenn Fleshler in "Form and Void". Image courtesy of IMDb.

Rust, meanwhile, has encountered him face to face. He has his gun pointed squarely at Childress and tells him to get on his knees, but Childress simply says “no” and runs off. Why Rust didn’t just shoot him, like Marty did to LeDeux’s crony 17 years ago, is a valid question. I think at this point in time, Rust has a lot less stamina for bureaucratic coverups, paperwork, and debriefs and a much greater willingness to die. Not to mention, they don’t really have any legal standing to be here in the first place this time around. He’s going to see it through, all the way through, in the beating heart of this operation.

Which turns out to be an absolutely terrifying maze of tunnels lined with stick-work much like those found at the crime scenes. Rust winds his way through, but every corner he rounds with his gun drawn just makes the dire situation all the more evident. He is at every disadvantage, no idea where he’s going, while Childress clearly has eyes on him. His voice carries through the maze, somehow coming from somewhere, taunting Rust, guiding him right where he wants him. “Come on inside, little priest. To your right, little priest. This is Carcosa. You know what they did to me? What I will do to all the sons and daughters of man? I am not ashamed. Come die with me, little priest.”

Woody Harrelson in "Form and Void". Image courtesy of IMDb.

I’m obsessed with Childress calling Rust little priest. In addition to the obvious irony of this being a church-based cult- and Rust looking down at organized religion altogether- he is super preachy in his way. He says some stuff throughout this whole season that really grinds you to a halt. My favorite is one of his earliest revelations of his personality, one that stuns Marty into regretting having asked him anything at all: “I think human consciousness is a tragic misstep in evolution. We became too self-aware. Nature created an aspect of nature separate from itself. We are creatures that should not exist by natural law. We are things that labor under the illusion of having a self, an accretion of sensory experience and feeling, programmed with total assurance that we are each somebody, when in fact everybody is nobody. Maybe the honorable thing for our species to do is to deny our programming, stop reproducing, and walk hand in hand into extinction. One last midnight, brothers and sisters opting out of a raw deal.”

It may not be Jesus, but it’s a hell of a response to the simple question of “are you a Christian?”. And when it comes down to it, isn’t sharing your opinion on humanity and what we should do with it all that preaching really is?

Anyway, Rust enters the offshoot of the tunnels that Childress directs him to. It turns out Marty was right to be worried about those hallucinations of Rust’s. He looks up at the sky, visible several feet up into the air, and a spiraling galaxy fills his field of vision. Rust is distracted by it when Childress charges him with a knife. If that hadn’t happened, I think Rust would’ve gotten him in one. But Childress stabs him deep in the stomach and twists, holding him up in the air by the blade.

Matthew McConaughey in "Form and Void". Image courtesy of IMDb.

Marty bursts in behind them, prompting Childress to drop the deeply wounded Rust to the ground. Marty doesn’t hesitate to fire three shots into Childress that hit him in the shoulders and chest, seemingly to no effect. Childress charges Marty, hurling an axe head-over-handle until it buries itself in Marty’s chest. Marty dislodges the axe and uses it and all his strength to hold Childress at bay.

When it comes to scary things, I’m usually most affected by the occult. Things like demons, ghosts, possession etc. are terrifying to me. Things you can always see, that die for good in ways we can measure and understand typically don’t bother me as much. But Childress is so fucking scary. The ideology and staging of the killings was eerie every step of the way, but this final confrontation is so well executed. Childress is as powerful and able to withstand as much as I can reasonably believe possible in a human being, and Marty and Rust suffer the most serious of injuries that they can plausibly walk away from. Rust’s managing to get to his gun and shoot Childress in the skull is, in a way, scary in and of itself because it confirms that this really was an actual person who walked among us.

Matthew McConaughey and Glenn Fleshler in "Form and Void". Image courtesy of IMDb.

Marty and Rust have had a bond all along, but their recovery together in the hospital is a wholesome confirmation of that. Despite everything that happened between them and the rage Marty felt towards him when they parted ways years ago, Marty and Maggie both refused to entertain the idea that Rust had done something evil. In fact, they took offense to the thought, putting an abrupt end to any conversation that started to go that way.

After Childress is dead, Marty crawls to Rust and puts pressure to his stab wound while they wait for help to arrive. Recounting it later, Marty says he sat there “with his friend’s head in my lap”. Once both of them are lucid in the hospital, Marty, less seriously injured, wheels himself to Rust’s hospital room. Rust is himself, that is to say, not warm and cuddly, instead preoccupied with the fact that he had come across Childress in their original investigation and failed to put the pieces together. But Marty takes him in stride, telling him not to ever change, and he’ll “be back tomorrow, buddy”. They send each other off with a flip of the middle finger.

Marty proves himself the most at the very end. I was impressed with him for understanding his faults and truly giving Maggie the space to move on. And I was impressed with him for staying by Rust’s side even as he continued to heal faster than him. Despite Rust’s resistance to the idea, Marty insists on seeing to Rust having a place to stay when he’s released- that things are “already arranged”.

In the rawest- and most optimistic moment of the whole show- Marty wheels Rust out under the stars for a non-sanctioned smoke break. Rust breaks down, in itself a true sign of his bond with Marty, and opens up through his tears: “There was a moment… I know when I was under in the dark, that something… whatever I’d been reduced to, you know, not even consciousness… it was a vague awareness in the dark, and I could… I could feel my definitions fading. And beneath that darkness, there was another kind. It was deeper, it was warm, you know? Like a substance. I could feel, man, and I knew, I knew my daughter waited for me there. It was so clear. I could feel her. I could feel… I could feel a piece of my pop too. It was like I was a part of everything I ever loved, and we were all… the three of us… just fadin’ out. All I had to do was let go. And I did. I said ‘darkness, yeah, yeah’. And I disappeared. But I could… I could still feel her love there, even more than before. There was nothing but that love. Then I woke up.”

Still from "Form and Void". Image courtesy of IMDb.

We’ve heard from Marty, from the Tuttle parish, and various believers along the way, that there is more beyond. More after. But hearing Rust say it makes me believe it. He was wrong about there being nothing and us being no one. It’s a beautiful moment. But there’s more.

Rust breaks down after this, and Marty shows a soft side of his own. He tries to bring Rust back by asking him about something he’d mentioned years ago- that he used to make up stories about the stars when he lived in Alaska. Either Rust humors him or the invitation to talk about that really does anchor him, at least enough to ponder some more; either way, he finishes Marty’s prompt.

RUST: I tell you, Marty, I’ve been up in that room looking out those windows every night here and just thinking… It’s just one story. The oldest. Light versus dark.

MARTY: Well, I know we ain’t in Alaska, but… appears to me the dark has a lot more territory.

RUST: Yeah. You’re right about that.

They ponder the night sky a little longer. Rust asks Marty to take him to the car. He’s had enough of hospitals. Marty knows Rust well enough to look out for him, but not to argue with him. He obliges. As they’re about to part ways:

RUST: You know you’re lookin’ at it all wrong. The sky thing.

MARTY: How’s that?

RUST: Well, once, there was only dark. If you ask me, the light’s winning.

Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson in "Form and Void". Image courtesy of IMDb.

On that honestly beautiful note, we fade out. It’s an incredibly more positive answer to Marty’s question long ago of why Rust hasn’t just killed himself if he sees humanity in this awful way. His answer at the time was that it must just be his programming. But he’s always seen the potential in the light. Never delusional about how much darkness there was, hence his perpetual melancholy, but always aware of the possibility of the good. That’s the real reason he’s kept fighting. Someone like Rust Cohle seeing that potential makes me believe it’s really there.

So, here’s the biggest question: should I watch season two? Will it hold up to the real beauty I found here? Drop me your thoughts on Marty, Rust, and all things True Detective.

[entropic-fantasy]

A frustrated ARMY's perspective on the fandom: Let's do better?

Intro

This post isn't as polished as I would want. My intention here isn't to hate or create division, and I don't aim to call out anyone in particular. As it says in the title: I am frustrated, and honestly merely want to talk with other people in the community about what is going on and hopefully create a space where we can discuss ideas as to what we can do to improve said community.

____

Main Text

I have thought about writing something about the fandom for a little while now, but after this particular weekend, it felt more important than ever. For some context: I’ve only been an ARMY for a little over a year now, joining the fandom right before the release of Proof and just in time for that infamous Bangtan Dinner. That is to say, I have no knowledge of what the fandom was like before that point in time – and especially not before BTS became a household name for the mainstream media overseas.

My perspective is limited, but even with this taken into consideration, I am growing evermore appalled at the behaviours I have to witness online.

Let’s take a look at the events, both in real life and in the fandom, that was just too much to ignore: Yoongi’s latest concert in Seoul.

Famously, Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook (Vminkook) attended, and as expected, the fandom was excited. Which is completely justified – them coming to support Yoongi was speculated on, and seeing them arrive creates hype of course. The turning point, however, was when shippers got involved.

Now, I don’t have a particular problem with shipping as such – I myself am not completely free from it even though I am now actively trying to dial back/remove myself from it – but a line has been crossed, and this isn’t the first time.

When it’s suddenly more important who arrived in a car with whom, who interacted more, than the main event itself (aka Yoongi’s concert), people should take a step back and evaluate their priorities. Especially, when it turns into the starting point of disgusting name-calling and unfounded attacks against the very people they claim to be fans of. And no: no-one here was the better sub-group. It’s not okay to accuse members of “using” one of their friends for PR purposes, and it’s not okay to accuse members of “forcing” their affection onto one of their friends against their wishes.

To put it shortly: are you out of your mind?

Now, of course members of these sub-groups will rush to defend or deflect – saying “oh, that’s just some of us” or “but they started it” or “that’s just solo stans” – but at this point none of this matters. As long as these sub-groups don’t manage to regulate themselves in their safe-spaces, cultivating an atmosphere of respect and love – like BTS actually stands for – there’s no hope for the fandom in its entirety. The “us vs them” mentality will continue to spread, these sub-groups only growing if not in numbers then in ferocity, and that is actually scary.

What they’re doing is trying to create a “canon” for the relationship between real people whose private life we are and should not be privy to. Most if not all of that canon is conjecture and opinion by fans – yes, there’s what some might call evidence for certain intimacies between members but as long this “subtext” (for the lack of a better word) doesn’t turn into “text”, going on a crusade for or against a ship to the detriment of BTS as a whole is insane.

To add my two cents:

No one in BTS is overstepping boundaries with another member. They have been brothers in all but blood for more than a decade. More importantly, they have practice in addressing problems within their group and great rapport because of that. Why would we as fans assume that there is anything fundamentally changed in their bond just because we don’t see them interact as they did before? Just because it suits a narrative doesn’t make it factually true. Yes, BTS are in another phase of their lives right now – a time of much upheaval and change – but like many friends that go through times of physical separation, they are more than able to still be brothers while doing their thing.

Neither BigHit nor Hybe are conspirators to force members apart. They are not showing real preference to one member-interaction over another – that’s not how contracts or business work. Do they engage in fanservice? Yes. They are a company, they know what creates the biggest buzz online and thus know what to highlight when it comes to the interactions between members. Emphasis on highlight. The members still do all the interacting themselves, and no-one needs to force them into doing anything. The only jobs the editors have, is finding the moments that create the most coherent video and make fans happy. Also, the notion that BTS are that constrained by their company is a bit silly – especially Jungkook has shown us how little he cares for the rules they do have (aka alcohol consumption before/during a live-stream and sleeping on stream, both of which are legitimate rules for both moral and capitalistic reasons).

No other company for that matter has any actual insight into the relationship between members, especially not one like Dispatch who does not have the same moral obligation to BTS that BigHit and Hybe have but DO have a monetary interest in them. Anything they post is not confirmation but a clever move by their social media managers that very well understand who the biggest sub-groups in the kpop fandom are.

Clothes mean nothing. We have seen on multiple occasions that various members have the same items, be that from promotional material they were sent as part of an endorsement or just personal preference. Any parallels in dress are just coincidence at this point. Especially for their official schedule appearances where we once again don’t know the details of whatever endorsements going on. That goes for colour schemes as well as accessories like bags.

To sum it up a little bit:

The only people who are overstepping are ARMY, and yes I am including everyone in this. As long as those of us who consider themselves better for whatever reason don’t step up, this is a fandom problem.

Pitting the members against one another, accusing them of paedophilia, sexual harassment of one another or manipulation of their friends for their own benefit is plain disgusting. Sending threats, spouting hate and vitriol online where it’s not impossible for the members to see? Again: what the fuck.

No one is the hero here – no one wins. All that will happen is ARMY as a whole losing whatever good opinion BTS still has of us. RM might not have meant this “discourse” when he said the fandom changed, but let’s not be naïve and think it isn’t a factor. We are, as fans of a kpop act, incredibly privileged in regards to the content we get to see. But instead of appreciating that privilege and using it for the good of the whole band, the focus gets always yanked towards three people who don’t want that and did not ask for that. The maknae-line is not the main character here, and they don’t want to be.

It breaks my heart a little bit to think that them visiting their best friend’s concert, celebrating his and their success at what is easily the highest point in their careers yet, turned into an excuse for their fandom to tear each other’s throats out. And that is just me, an individual so far removed from the real-life situation my opinion doesn’t have any bearing on it.

Imagine for a moment what Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung would feel if they knew the muddy and disgusting lengths their fans go to in order to “support” a relationship that might not even exist. They deserve better, and we can do better.

[adamantinetower]

Gerbilgod Year 3: Mausoleums

I’m next in line for the Tumblr Succession Fort, with @proudautisticcomrade having preceded me. The game is overseen by @dorfposting​. I’ve had my attention split quite a bit these past few weeks n’ days so I admit I’m not as well versed in the Fortress’s history as I probably should be. But its an angle I can make work.

This ended up being quite a long post with many images, so here’s a readmore for everyone’s sake.

First of Granite, year 153 in the fortress Ërtongnòm: Gerbilgod

Well this is a right mess I’ve found myself in. The latter end of the past year has not been kind to this fortress, so much so that I - a passing stranger - have found myself thrust into the role of overseer for the time being. As shocking as this is, I am loathe to turn my back on my fellow dwarves.

My first order of business is to carve out a place to put all those poor souls to rest. Monuments for those wholly lost, and coffins for those whom we can still find some remnant of. No dwarf will go unhonored. It is the patience, or rather the lack of it, of the dead that has me worried.

The design is something concocted in quick desperation to appease both the living and the dead. A central hall for monuments, large enough for our immediate needs. Off of this will be dug space for coffins. The rooms are meager and the hallway narrow, but I’m afraid that such spaces is the limit of luxury we can presently afford.

After all, a vile force of darkness is upon us.

 It hasn’t even been one day yet.

8th of Granite:

Praise the Gods, the siege was short. The small band of invaders swiftly dispatched by visitors loitering outside the gate. With that settled, I’ve ordered it lowered. I hope to gather what wood we can.

13th of Granite:

I’m convinced this fort is cursed.

A terrible winged beast with the gift of flame has come to us. The thing arrives by way of the muddy caverns that much of this fort is built into. I pray that the hands that this fort was previously in had managed to plug any unsecured holes.

Not making matters any better are the returned spirits of our fallen warriors.

Ah, brave souls! If only you yet lived to protect your home!

17th - 19th of Granite:

The beast has disappeared from sight, and we are out of wood. If there is a way for it into the fortress, I hope it takes it through the monster hunters and poets that live under our roof.

It is not all ill news, however. Despite the goblin attack, we are met with an elven caravan. In the chaos I haven’t had much time to assess any needs trading could alleviate, and with the rain of abhorrent sludge impeding the gathering of plants and trees I have to consider-

What.

This... Odd little warrior has scarcely stepped foot in the bog surrounding the fort before his intention to steal one of our beloved rings was made known.

Huh.

He does not seem compelled to act peaceably, and so I send the militia to contend with him.

24th of Granite:

Tragedy and outrage!

While my attention was elsewhere a deadly brawl broke out between some monster slayers and citizens. Our poor Mayor and one other of our own died in the conflict.

To add to the outrage the beast Ongor had snuck up and, just outside the very tavern, claimed the lives of two children.

The rampage continues unabated. Fire and fang claim dwarf after dwarf.

The hunters continue to do nothing.

Tragedy after tragedy, crisis after crisis. I don’t know if I can salve this.

The beast did fall, its last victim - and opponent - a stray puppy. It decapitated the poor creature, but died soon after. I know not the cause. Did a God finally take offense to this last act? Did it die to its own fire and smoke? I don’t have the time to find out. The dead keep piling up.

13th of Slate:

twice now within the past week two humans have come with ambition to steal Tamemoon, and we are unable to really offer much in the way of resistance.

Damn it all. I’m shutting the gate.

20th of Slate:

Migrants! Oh, praise the miners. A large mass of manpower that brought our struggling population up to 77 from a floundering... 44? 40-something. With all the death I didn’t dare keep count, lest I tempt fate.

I hope we have enough room for everyone.

3rd of Felsite:

The construction of the catacombs is going achingly slow. Not helping matters was our manager having no office. With that fixed, hopefully all will go more smoothly.

The fortress also has a new artifact to its name!

A grate will be useful in some project later on, I’m sure.

2nd of Hematite

Summer graces the land, and some measure of stability has been tentatively achieved. The mood in the fortress is dour and our wood supply has run fully dry. I have assigned some to work as woodcutters, but the lack of action has me suspecting a shortage of tools. Hopefully some new iron axes will solve that problem.

11th of Hematite

A human caravan from Erianthath has come! Bless them. Hopefully they come with tools.

14th of Hematite

The rock itself trembles. Another great beast has come to claw at our walls.

Fortunately for us it lurks in the lowermost caverns, of which there is no present entry to our fort. None that I am aware of, at least.

Unfortunately, that means my plans to breach the cavern for a sludge-free source of wood will have to be put on hold. Without a military proper I dare not face it.

1st of Malachite

Our human guests are still here, and have handily dispatched a prospective thief. Why so many seek Tamemoon, I’ll never know.

The caravan, alas, had slim pickings. I bought two bins of both woolen cloth and leather, as well as some cheese and cheap cages. In exchange we gave them a bevy of stone trinkets and worn clothing. Not the most glamorous of goods, but I made sure to be generous enough to entice them to bring a larger selection in the future.

[breaking character to note that I’m experiencing a bug where the diplomacy menu is unavailable. The diplomacy popup just disappears when I click on it. Hopefully that wont have any lasting consequences.]

There are rumors of a new overseer to arrive by the start of next year. I confess that I hope the rumors to be true. I was an ill pick made of desperation. Still, Hopefully I can stay the course well enough that the fortress will be prime material to be shaped by more brilliant hands.

The catacombs, though rough, are slowly being filled with coffins and bodies. Ghosts are being laid to rest as monuments start to fill the hall.

Outside the fortress our new lumberjacks make quick work of producing lumber for our otherwise idle carpenters.

4th of malachite

A small wave of migrants brings the fortress up to a population of 84.

Tamemoon has also been stolen. It appears that it was held within one of the bins of goods I had brought to the depot. Out of pride I will have the guard investigate this. Privately, however, I am glad if the thing would disappear. Perhaps now we’ll have less trouble with wayward brigands.

24th of Malachite

Our broker accused a human maceman of the theft. Good enough for me, I thought, and ordered the conviction. The man now lies dead.

I should probably care more. Meh.

Unrelated to that I’ve decided to cover up and wall off the pit outside the tavern. There was probably a plan for this, but I’m desperate to avoid another Ongor disaster.

14th of Galena

A monster of the surface, for once!

Thankfully it is one vulnerable to cages. With traps in place in the entrance. I had thought to simply raise the alarm and let the thing stop itself. Unfortunately, a spat of children and one dimwit of a carpenter remained outside. The carpenter, one Urvad Onuculdist, perished. The children, however, seem to have made it out alive. One of our two hammerdwarves slew the beast.

This does bring to mind, however, our woefully sparse defenses. We also lack a water supply within the fort itself. I doubt I have time to fix it wholly, but I can try.

Ghosts continue to rise as we struggle to find corpses and engrave slabs fast enough.

23rd of Galena

The Oily Chestnut has been enclosed!

The drawbridge is linked to one of four new levers I purpose built for new defenses, on the main floor, off to the side of the central stairwell.

It has been labelled for clarity of use. With industry on pause I doubt I can make a fully outfitted death tunnel in time, alas. But perhaps I could get one started...

1st of Limestone

Autumn has come, and with it a vile force of darkness. Raise the gates! Hunker down! We still have food and drink enough down here to last us. What we don’t have is manpower enough to fight them off.

Unfortunately, a Gelder was lost when trying to lower the gate for them. Our outside livestock is also being slaughtered. The herbalist Dumed also didn’t make it back in time, and was slaughtered in a tree.

9th of Limestone

The cheesemaker Olon Cattenbidok is not accounted for, and we can only assume they to have perished outside. Damn it all, if only there was some way we could properly fight back...

18th of Limestone

The raiders have dispersed and a caravan from the Mountainhome has arrived. With them comes news that, yes, a new overseer will arrive in the coming spring. All I have to do, then, is keep the place from falling apart.

For next year I requested an all-around spread of weapons, clothing, trap components, cages, cloth and leather. Toys for the little ones as well.

An axedwarf, meanwhile, has slipped into a depression. This can’t be good.

15th of Sandstone

Another axedwarf has slipped into depression, the both of them being among the monsterslayers currently residing in the fortress.

I have been permitting any and all such warriors to stay, even if there are no monsters to be had. Hopefully they will eventually petition for citizenship as a soldier, wherein they can help quickly bolster our military.

I’ve made a new squad to host two human warriors who have already done so, along with some other citizens that have some skill with weaponry. For now the squad is simply standing by. They’ll need barracks and a place to train, hopefully I’ll remember to get around to it.

In other news, a small band of migrants has come to the fort, bringing the population up to a servicable 92. With some careful management I’m sure much can be done to bring this fort back on track. Straight after that, a stonecrafter by the name of Fikod was possessed by a strange mood, and claimed a crafter’s workshop.

17th of Sandstone

Another forgotten beast has come.

Thankfully, it would appear that the Oily Chestnut is secured enough to keep the beast out. We can hear its rampage outside the walls, and feel the heat of its fire warm the rock. But for now, we are safe.

1st of Timber

Fikod emerges from his mood, holding high the newest artifact to the forts name!

A bright moment amidst all the gloom.

I have also allowed entry to the inactive magma workshops, that the bodies left there may finally be buried. I’m embarrassed that they slipped my attention for so long. Hopefully this will greatly improve our ghost problem. I’ve had to extend out the memorial hall for all the monuments!

18th of Timber

A guild of craftdwarves, aptly named the Company of Crafts, has formed and requested a guildhall.

Following the sensibilities of my predecessor, I have designated for one to be dug out in the shape of a hammer.

1st of Moonstone

Winter is upon us. My tenure as overseer is nearly done. For these last few month’s I aim to get some things cleaned up and smoothed out. Try to finish more bedrooms, perhaps. The catacombs continue to fill up with what few remains can be found.

In hindsight, a few erected slabs may have been made in the honor of those that languished in the magma workshops. Ah well, the poor souls aren’t undeserving of it.

9th of Moonstone

Damn it all! The depressive slayer, Zaneg, has toppled the still in a mad tantrum. Hopefully the damage wont go beyond that.

1st of Opal

Better late then never is my motto for these last few months. I have constructed the beginnings of a death tunnel. Though we don’t have much materials as of yet, with enough weapon traps this worm of a passage should defeat most any invaders without us having to lift a finger.

The drawbridges and their levers have both been labelled. The levers themselves being among those Constructed on the main floor.

Along with this I thought to dig out a section of the dirt portion of the mountain to become an enclosed grazing area. It seems that it’s shaping up to be more stone than dirt, but it gives me an idea. Why not expand up into the mountain? After all, just this much into the area has revealed limonite and coal both.

3rd of Obsidian.

Word has come from the Mountainhome that the next overseer is on their way. Looking back, there's much I could have done differently. Hell, there’s much I could have just done.

My biggest regret is not making a special place of rest for our fallen major. Jv rests among the rest of us. But who knows, perhaps that is what they’d want.

10th of Obsidian

One more beast to see me off!

This one, to, arrives via the muddy caves. I wonder if its kin with Paboz? I had hoped the two would kill each other, but Omus would soon fall after a prolonged battle with a blind cave ogre.

25th of Obsidian

My last act as overseer is the designation of digging out an inside pasture further up the mountain.

To you who succeeds me: good luck.

[withered-rose-unbreakable-lotus]

I think visual kei is the longest obsession I’ve ever had. It took me 11 years to finally be chill about it. xD I’ve reached a point that I don’t care much about the scene, never seeing them live, missing releases like...this year I’ve managed to slowly detach.

Ever since I was a little girl, my favorite musicians were my life. They gave me a voice, a purpose and a dream. I wasn’t a casual listener, I was the kind of girl who needed to see them as much as possible, listen to music like 6 hours a day, if not more, my walls were always full of pictures of them, I always talked about them...they were my life. And even after getting into visual kei, I didn’t drop any of my previous favorites, I just wasn’t as focused on them as before. With previous artists I felt my enthusiasm was fullfilling and healthy, an energy boost, an inspiration, a place where I felt understood. It was sth I loved, people I loved etc. (and if you are one of those who think you have to know sb very well to love them, get the fuck out of my blog, I know what I felt and if a person can hate sb at first sight, they can love at first sight too. Yes maybe what I loved was 90% illusion, but I believe 10% was actually real cause, no matter how much a person likes to appear perfect and always friendly etc, cracks will always be there). Anyway visual kei felt like more than that to the point I really thought it was destiny to actually work with them (cause I’ve always wanted to work with my favorite artists, I just switched from wanting to go to the USA to Japan after a while being a fan). And you know what, it was fun as long as it lasted. It took me out of the dark, pulled blades away from my wrists, it kept me sane, lead to writing 2 and a half books, it lead to finally getting my hands on photoshop and honestly becoming a better person. But yeah those things aside, I realized that the goal-part was another lie I built to feel I belonged. In reality, it was another lesson in life which, once I got it, it had to go.

I’m closing 30 and I have not much passion for art or music anymore. It was painful forcing myself understand my dreams were silly, but the peace I feel now makes me think I finally made it. I can now look at their photos of the past with nostalgia and not feeling like I failed, cause it was never for me in the first place. I kept seeing people travelling there and being able to see them and, some even got chances to work with them, so I wondered wtf I was doing wrong. It was eating me alive and I desperately wanted sth to work but well...it’s all gone now. ^^

Currently I don’t have any goals but I know some old stuff came back. As a child, besides trying every artform I could get my hands on while listening to music, I also played a lot of games. We had 3 drawers and 1 cupboard full of videogames at home and I feel like I am slowly getting back to that. I limit myself only to genshin now, for sure, but I watch more playthroughs again of games I don’t have and maybe soon I will try getting a console to try more stuff, who knows. I also started watching anime again, which I had stopped for a few years.

Oh well, regardless of what the future holds, I am thankful to all those people who dared chase their dreams and inspired me do the same, my lovely musicians, even if I eventually got nowhere, and I will keep listening to their songs from time to time. And posting their pics cause nostalgia. My only complaint is that I spent the past 10 years of my life being upset that I lived in a house that didn’t allow me have posters on my walls (fucking humidity and mold ye see) and now that I can and my room is healthier, I have nobody I want on my walls. xD I will fill it with Genshin and anime characters xD.

[not-my-final-account]

My O.C is Wings! She is also kind of like a persona for myself. I made her when I was 7 (so that’s when I consider she got her powers(she was just a regular girl before)) and have been building on her ever since so while I’ve tried to balance out her powers she is basically a god

My O.C’s bad is usually a rock ledge or some where out of the way and vaguely comfortable (or that’s what she tells herself) while on a mission, she has a really comfortable fluffy bed at home (she still lives with her parents) and night-dreams about some nights when she can’t sleep

My O.C has a triangle shape, she’s sharp (not like a square which is blunt) but kind (not like an pentagon which is mean/posh, or an octagon which is wise), in her childhood she was a kind innocent cloud with no defined shape.

My O.C’s favourite thing to do on a rainy day is to fly in and above the clouds that are raining

If my O.C was gifted a shiny rock, depending on who it was: she would be suspicious of it, sharpen it and make it into a special knife, or if she really loved them she would add it to a new necklace or tie it into her greenstone one

My O.C would barely manage to beat any gyms (still can’t beat Minecraft but knows all the glitches and techniques) but would try to collect ever evolution and type(or species, sorry I don’t play Pokémon) of Pokémon in the game.

My O.C would try all the classes, play a diffrent one each game and settling on her favourite, but she only really knows Ratatattat (it’s a card game that has loads of different names I think, we’re(again she’s kind of like a persona) quite good at it)

My O.C technically lives in the modern day, but can move through realities and time and is often gone on a mission. When home her favourite game is constantly changing, but when she’s playing with a friends it’s Minecraft

My O.C cannot stand her brother, she secretly loves him(not in a weird way) but is constantly arguing even though they actually agree on most (big) things

My O.C can understand all languages, a side effect of travelling through so many ‘places’ and her powers I suppose

My O.C is -1, she can (literally) burn air (I’m not even kidding, her wings can catch on fire (like she can pick up fire with her hands and breathe fire) which is cool and dramatic but annoying when working with gas ovens), she inherits this from me -the girl who made a bright purple chocolate cake

My O.C chooses weapons, spiralling out of the time limit and leaving the judges scared or fascinated over her explanation on rankings in war (to be honest I’d chose Star War, not a comparison, just wanted to add it here)

My O.C has all the powers in the world. Original, I know, I’ve tried to balance it out with an actually small (for once) dose of trauma, and lacking the training to control all of them. And no, she (again) technically lives in this universe, but they might be normal in some places she travels too.

My O.C can sing (but not in front of a crowd, or anyone for that matter), and she likes to draw although she considers that a hobby, mind you everyone (as in an ally, person she’s working for(she always chooses the good side), or friend) who manages too get a glimpse of her sketch book says she should be famous, she just takes the compliment and tries to steer the conversation away from her

Yes. Full stop, she might not have been born in the wilderness, but she has the rough training and skills to walk out of it (with mild hypothermia, which force knows how she managed to get)

My O.C LOVES the ocean, she enjoys swimming almost as much as she dose flying and is often called a fish, she tries to respect the sea and sometimes mutters Māori prayers when going on a boat to pay tribute to her heritage. She has remarkable sea legs for someone with their head in the clouds.

No. She tries, she really dose, but she can’t seem to get it right, often having to remind herself to even breathe, she has mild insomnia which is made worse by her mind(she sometimes goes to a dark place and it can be hard to drag herself out of it), she only really gets thirsty after activities and for all her health flaws she rarely ever has a problem with dehydration and when she dose it’s more because she’s stuck in the middle of a desert than its actually her fault. But eating on the other hand… she was always a picky eater, and while she will eat what she is served she rarely ever finishes it and often has (sometimes bad, other times barely noticeable) stomach aces from lack of food (on the topic of food, she has a sweet tooth but can’t stomach much sugar and breakfast is her favourite meal, but sometimes she has to skip it)

My O.C’s first choice is her Dad, he is someone who she knows will lead the way and someone who will protect her rather than her having to protect them, like she would a friend, she has a favourite cousin/best friend too, they grew up scheming pranks together and are inseparable when given the opportunity to be together, he makes her feel strong and brave.

Her family dying is her worse nightmare, but usually her nightmares are about bad feelings and instincts

My O.C acts at the first sign of harm to her family, she values them over herself and will not hesitate to hand herself over if she believed it would help them.

I don’t know what item she would bring, I suppose she would bring something spiral but I’m not sure

It would be her greatest failure, I don’t know what it is yet- but many people died and she can’t forgive herself, she often gets trapped in her own mind mourning it.

Same as above ^^^ I think it would depend, on one hand she tells herself not to mess with history, to change time, make the same mistake the people in the movies do, on the other hand she desperately wants to undo her actions to save those innocents (or, as anyone but her would say, herself in a way)

My O.C is convinced she is going to die doing something stupid, she’s probably right, to be honest the other options are: dramatic last stand, it’s 50/50 (no one tell her but there’s a third option that she becomes a god of sorts)

Depending on the situation, either saving as many people as she could, or with her family.

Yet Another OC Ask Game

After hoarding them for months, I decided to make my own. Let’s go from fluffy to angsty, shall we >:)

🛏️ What does your OC’s bed look like? What would they like their bed to look like?

🐁 Capybaras are friend-shaped. What shape does your OC have?

🌧️ What is the favorite thing for you OC to do on a rainy day?

🪨 Someone gifts your OC a shiny rock. What do they do with it?

🐹 Which would be your OCs favorite Pokemon? What kind of trainer would they be?

🎲 If your OC played a pen and paper RPG, what class would they pick? Warrior, mage, thief, ranger, cleric, paladin, druid, necromancer, bard (or other, if that’s not enough).

🎮 If your OC lives or would live in the modern world, would they like video games? What would be their favorite game?

👎 Is there someone your OC can’t stand, despite them being on the same side or sharing basic values?

🌈 Does your OC speak more than one language? If so, how many and which?

🥪 On a scale from ‘burns water’ to ‘5 course menu’ how well can your OC cook?

📚 Your OC has to improvise a 10 minute lecture about a topic of their choosing. What do they chose?

🪄 Does your OC have any special powers? If so, are they normal in this OC’s universe?

🎨 Does your OC have any craft skill, as a hobby or profession? If so which?

🌳 Would your OC survive for a week on their own in the wilderness?

🌊 Has your OC ever seen the ocean? If not, do they want to? What do they think of it?

🥞 Does your OC take proper care of themselves, like getting enough sleep and eating properly?

🤝 Does your OC have someone they want at their side when they are scared? Who?

🌌 If your OC has a nightmare, what’s it most likely about?

🪤 What is one thing that could be used to lure your OC into a trap?

🎒 If your OC had to pick three things of all their belongings to keep, which would they chose?

🕐 Was there ever a time your OC would have given everything to turn back the clock 5 minutes? What happened?

🎭 What is the one thing your OC regrets most? Would they undo it, considering how their life turned out?

🔪 What does your OC think how they’ll die? 

📅 If your OC had one day left to live, how would they spend it?

[freyayuki]

Dissidia Final Fantasy: Opera Omnia Aranea Highwind Banner

The Admiration (Intersecting Wills) event just started in the Dissidia Final Fantasy: Opera Omnia (DFFOO) mobile game. This event came with 1 banner.

Admiration (Intersecting Wills) Banner

The Admiration (Intersecting Wills) banner features the following chars and their weapons:

Celes Chere from Final Fantasy VI - Burst or BT only

Aranea Highwind from Final Fantasy XV - 15cp, 35cp, Ex, LD, and Force or FR

Cait Sith from Final Fantasy VII - 15cp, 35cp, Ex, and LD

Fran from Final Fantasy XII - 15cp, 35cp, Ex, and LD

Have everything on this banner except for Cait Sith’s LD, Aranea’s LD, and Aranea’s FR.

Have a copy of Aranea’s 15cp that has been limit broken once. Have copies of Aranea’s 35cp and Ex that haven’t been limit broken at all.

Thoughts about Aranea Highwind from Final Fantasy XV

I remember that I used to dislike Aranea Highwind from Final Fantasy XV (#ad) in DFFOO. I talk more about that in another post.

That was a long time ago though. These days, I don’t really dislike Aranea anymore. Can’t say I like her all that much either though. I guess it’s best to say that nowadays, I feel neutral towards her. I neither like nor dislike her.

I never felt like I needed her for anything. Never purposely pulled for any of her weapons. Well, I think I might have tossed a few tickets on her debut banner.

But since I wasn’t able to get her Ex and LD, never bothered to do any of her Summon Boards. I did get her Bloom Stone though.

Aranea has triple ATK 108 Artifacts, one of which has Miss Mercenary Boost★★ (Raises INT BRV, MAX BRV, ATK, DEF by 5% while Overclock active) as a secondary.

Now Aranea’s back on a banner again, and I still don’t feel like I need her. Don’t really want her either.

Even if I get her FR, I doubt I’d bother to fully build her and max her out due to lack of resources. So my plan was to just skip this banner.

I was kinda interested in Cait Sith’s LD though. It’s pretty good as a Call ability. I tried to pull for it before but failed to get it.

While it sucks to have missed out on Cait Sith’s LD, it's also true that I never got locked out of being able to do any quest due to not having said weapon.

Sure, there are a few times (very few, actually) wherein I found myself thinking it would have been nice to have Cait Sith’s LD so I could have brought him as a Call, but I’ve always been able to get through a fight even without said LD.

As such, I’m pretty sure I can continue to get by just fine without Cait Sith’s LD. Nevertheless, the fact that his LD is back and available on a banner again has me feeling tempted.

It doesn’t help that I kinda, sorta feel like pulling. I should wait for a new banner but I kinda want to pull now.

And since I’m missing a number of weapons on the Admiration (Intersecting Wills) banner and I don’t have everything here fully MLB already, it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea to pull here even if it’s just for collection purposes.

I don’t know. I mean, I shouldn’t pull here. I should save for other upcoming banners but feeling very tempted anyway. Can’t seem to help myself.

Even if I have no intention of using Aranea for endgame content, even if I know I can get by just fine without Cait Sith’s LD, even if I know a different banner is coming really soon and I’m better off pulling on that banner instead, I still feel like pulling on the Admiration (Intersecting Wills) banner anyway.

Admiration (Intersecting Wills) Banner Daily Free Draws Results

So far, I’ve somehow been able to hold off on tossing tickets on the Admiration (Intersecting Wills) banner. Don’t know how long I’ll be able to manage though.

I've been using my daily free single draw on this banner. As can be expected, I always get either bronze or silver trash.

But one day I actually got a dupe of Aranea’s 35cp. Nice. I readily fused it to the copy I already have.

Didn’t bother to take a screenshot though because back then I thought I’d be able to hold off on pulling on this banner.

And anyway it was just a 35cp dupe. Nowadays, I don’t bother to take screenshots of 15cp and 35cp weapons, especially if they’re nothing more than dupes.

Admiration (Intersecting Wills) Banner Tickets Pulls Results

But much later, I actually ended up tossing tickets on the Admiration (Intersecting Wills) banner. Forgot to take note of how many tickets I had on hand before I started pulling but IIRC, it was around 300+ or so.

Aside from the usual bronze and silver trash, including 10-draws with not a single gold, and 15cp and 35cp gold dupes, also got the following:

Was able to get my first copy of Aranea’s LD after only a couple of crappy 10-draws. Said new LD came from a gold orb.

This 10-draw only gave me 1 gold - Aranea’s LD.

Was down to 327 tickets when Aranea’s LD showed up.

Continued pulling since I’m still missing some weapons from this banner. After a few more 10-draws, I got a gold orb that gave me a dupe of Aranea’s Ex.

This 10-draw only gave me 1 gold - Aranea’s Ex.

A bit later on, was surprised but super pleased to get a Force orb.

Yay! It’s always nice to get a new Force weapon.

Still don’t have any plans of fully building Aranea though. Just don’t have the resources to spare to max out her FR, especially not when I don’t even think I’ll be using said FR.

Once again, this 10-draw only gave me 1 gold - Aranea’s FR.

Was down to 277 tickets when I got Aranea’s FR.

Have a copy of all of Aranea’s weapons now. They’re not all fully MLB but it’s fine. Don’t need to pull on this banner for those weapons anymore. So I should stop pulling already.

But I’m still missing Cait Sith’s LD, and I do kinda want to have it. And since I still have tickets, decided to keep pulling some more.

Unfortunately, Cait Sith’s LD didn’t show up. Instead, just got a lot of crap and dupes.

And a lot of the dupes were useless like that time when I got Fran’s 15cp. At least I also got 1 more dupe of Aranea’s 35cp so I can fully MLB the copy I have without having to use a single Power Stone.

After a few more crappy 10-draws, I got another Force orb. Welp, totally wasn’t expecting that at all.

The dupe Aranea FR isn’t unwelcome since this would help in limit breaking the copy I already have. But since I don’t have any plans of using said FR anyway, and since I already have 1 copy, I can’t help but wish that I’d gotten Cait Sith’s LD instead.

To my surprise, this 10-draw gave me 5 golds. Nice! Too bad they were all dupes. Aside from the dupe of Aranea’s FR, also got dupes of Aranea’s LD, Aranea’s 15cp, Cait Sith’s 15cp, and Aranea’s 15cp.

Ahh, wish that Aranea LD dupe had been Caith Sith’s LD instead. At least I now have enough dupes of Aranea’s 15cp to be able to fully MLB my first copy without having to use a single Power Stone.

Was down to 210 tickets when I got the dupes of Aranea’s LD, FR, and 15cp. Thankfully, I was finally able to stop myself from pulling on the Admiration (Intersecting Wills) banner although it does suck that once again, Cait Sith’s LD eludes me.

Aranea Highwind from Final Fantasy XV

After fully max limit breaking Aranea’s 15cp and 35cp, opted to do the same for her Ex and LD. Also Purpled her Ex or upgraded it to Ex+ 3/3. Fused the dupes of her FR that I got then equipped her with said weapon.

Finished fully limit breaking Aranea’s first armor then bought her second armor and did the same to it.

Also spent the Book and Ingots needed to Purple said armor so I could get more CP in order to be able to equip all of her passives and extensions and such.

Completed all of her Summon Boards but didn’t bother to get any of her Character Enhancement Boards or Force Enhancements.

Normally, I’d at least unlock parts of her Char Boards, particularly the tiles that would give me her LD Call and LD extension passive.

But after taking a closer look at Aranea’s LD Call and LD extension passive, I wasn’t really impressed with the effects of both. Didn’t think I’d need either, especially since I still don’t have any plans of using Aranea for endgame content.

Decided to equip Aranea with the following RF Spheres: King’s (from Final Fantasy Type-0) RF A Sphere, Ardyn Izunia’s (Ardyn Lucis Caelum from Final Fantasy XV) RF A Sphere, and Irvine Kinneas’s (from Final Fantasy VIII) RF E Sphere.

Never really got to use Aranea before. Since mine wasn’t fully built at all and I didn’t even have all of her weapon back then, never bothered to use her. But IIRC, I’ve been able to borrow a few friend support Araneas and I’ve seen more than a few in co-op fights.

That was a long time ago though, so took Aranea to a battle just now. It was an easy quest so it was no surprise at all that Aranea did well.

She can deal pretty good damage, she can break and rebreak enemies, and she can even delay them. She can also debuff them.

I’d forgotten how long some of Aranea’s animations are. It’s kind of annoying, especially since some of the animations of her moves are also pretty similar to each other.

Also, I have to say that I don’t like how Aranea wears a helmet during battle. Not really fond of how you can’t see her face thanks to the helmet. When not in battle though (like in cut scenes), she doesn’t wear the helmet. I wish we had the option to remove her helmet even in battle.

Started farming for Aranea’s preferred Artifacts (ATK 108 with Miss Mercenary Boost★★) but have yet to get the last 2 I need.

Aside from getting crappy and useless Arts, I also somehow keep getting ATK 108 with MAX BRV 330. Too bad these aren’t the perfect Artifacts for Aranea.

It took a really long time before I was able to get the last 2 ATK 108 with Miss Mercenary Boost★★ Artifacts for Aranea.

Had to fuse hundreds of Eidojas before I saw these Arts. To make matters worse, the ones I got ended up costing 15 CP. Meh.

Since I still had some more Eidojas left, decided to fuse all of them to see if I could get another ATK 108 with Miss Mercenary Boost★★ Artifact with a lower CP cost.

Was only able to get one before I ran out of Eidojas. This one cost 12 CP so it was only slightly better than the ones that cost 15 CP.

Ah, well. At least I finally have triple of Aranea’s perfect Artifacts and at least she has enough CP to equip all 3 of them.

Conclusion

So, what about you? Did you pull on the Admiration (Intersecting Wills) banner? What do you think about Celes Chere, Aranea Highwind, and all the other chars featured on this banner? Feel free to share your thoughts and opinions by leaving a comment below or by reblogging or replying to this post.

Notes:

screenshots are from my Dissidia Final Fantasy: Opera Omnia game account

[alternamarian]

This is the fourth — and the last — empty MS. book I can find in the house; at least nearly empty [...]. I resolve to let this limit my jottings. I will not start buying books for the purpose. In so far as this record was a defence against total collapse [...] it has done some good. [...] Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state but a process. It needs not a map but a history, and if I don't stop writing that history at some quite arbitrary point, there's no reason why I should ever stop. There is something new to be chronicled every day. Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.

A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis

For the most part I've been posting in chronological order. With this book, I'm starting with the last chapter. Unlike C.S. Lewis, who recorded his observations on sheets of paper, this chronicle of upheaval will be published on a blog. And unlike him, I intend to record my observations for as long as I can. Again, I don't know about the frequency, but as long as I find something to be chronicled, I will at least try to post my notes.

While browsing for quotes or images or anything else that I could reblog, I saw a review of this book, expressing a sort of dismayed shock about how it was not about grief but having faith in grief. I'm quite sorry about the disappointment, but I must in turn admit my confusion. Belief is not a prerequisite for reading his books, but I don't know why anyone should be shocked that a man who wrote in Our Lord as a main character in his famous series would write about his grief in the context of his faith. Also, the questions he asks are not easy. I myself will be writing within the context of Christianity, and I expect much of it will disappoint anyone looking for neat, Christian-flavored Inspirational Talk. I'm being shattered too thoroughly for me to cough up some feel-good faith buzz.

Also, for this book, I think I'll include more than one quote in a post.

Tonight all the hells of young grief have opened again [...] For in grief nothing ‘stays put'. One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round. Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?

But if a spiral, am I going up or down it?

How often — will it be for always? — how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty [...]? The same leg is cut off time after time. The first plunge of the knife into the flesh is felt again and again.

They say ‘The coward dies many times' [...]. Didn't the eagle find a fresh liver to tear in Prometheus every time it dined?

Even before all this, I'd been careful about describing my recovery from illnesses. And I do think that's not only because of some superstitious fear of 'jinxing it.' I'm no expert and can't make presumptions about the healing. And as I wrote last time, these days are one-day-at-a-time-days. The question of whether I get to the end of the day can only be answered at the end of the day.

And by necessity I've had to consider who this I even is. I posted about how much of my life I've imagined. Well, is there an I — a person — imagining things? Or are these images and sounds and feelings just another form of excretion from this bundle of flesh and nerves?

Who is this ‘I', crying out in frantic prayer? Who or what is that thing with the face full of tears, weeping yet again?

Who is the figure bent face down on the floor? — And then clatters unsteadily back up again. Is this some sort of reflexive bodily spasm? — Force of habit?

There has been mention of something called Grace. What is that, and where does that come from?

Does that have anything to do with the fact that this ‘I' still exists?

— Still manages to consume food?

— Still desires (or imagines a desire) to press her lips to thy hand, kind reader, in friendship — and perhaps devotion?

[manifestingkai]

Discipline in Manifesting as a neurodivergent (ND) person

A common element of manifesting discourse (at least on twitter, as I’m still new to tumblr’s law of assumption community) is that a lot of manifestation comes down to discipline rather than motivation. It’s much easier for us to persist when we are in a good, healthy, headspace rather than when we are unwell. That’s where discipline comes in, but discipline can feel like Mount Everest when you’re also managing mental health stuff. To some that may sound like an excuse, but I promise that myself and anyone else who is ND will tell you that is not the case. It’s the reality. Your idea of discipline and mine are different. To someone who is neurotypical, it’s as simple as forcing yourself to do it even when you don’t want to. For others, it can be dealing with a multitude of constrictions/limitations/challenges that are invisible that you cannot see. That doesn’t make our persistence any less valid. We exist here too.

I can only speak from my own experiences and what helps me may be different for you, but I will share the tips I’ve learned through my journey with LOA as a neurodivergent person:

I believe in giving myself as much grace and patience as I can when manifesting and the act of being gentle has changed the trajectory of my journey with loa and my life tenfold.

For me, discipline is allowing myself to have bad days and either observing or feeling those feelings/thoughts while reminding myself they will pass. Not fighting every single bad thought (because for me that just created more). Self soothing has been a huge tool for me.

Reminding myself that I am doing everything right because I am, we all are. We assign meanings to everything. How we feel in moments has no bearing on how we’re doing at manifesting or practicing the law imo. You’re human and you are valid.

It’s also allowing the breaks and the space to breathe and fall apart. Because at the end of that you get back up and do your best anyways. Do you know how brave that is? Do you know how incredibly courageous it is to have faith and trust in what we can’t see? It’s incredible.

Discipline to me is continuing to persist after a spiral or a breakdown or a bad episode. It’s believe we’re deserving and worthy of what we desire and continuing to fight for ourselves. It’s having a bad week and affirming through tears and questioning but continuing anyways.

I say all this to say that our journeys are different and to not let anyone else’s experience taint how far you’ve come or how much you’ve grown. You’re doing everything right. You’re going to have it all. Your mental health is valid, your experience is valid.

Source: my thread on twitter

[scorching-passion]

umbral-stigmata-unbound​:

Reno could only look over the other man, smirking and listening as he went on, with a hand on his hip with his button-less nature on display. The comments towards his own hair greatly amused him, especially as he took pride in it and if Veld himself mocking and criticizing the style didn’t shake Reno enough to reconsider changing it, then this certainly wouldn’t either.

“Are you saying you waste your limited paycheck on making yourself a neon sign for chaos and disruption beyond just one feature? I’ve cultivated this hair rather proudly since I was a teen, buddy, and even with the pyrotechnics, I manage stealth, skill, and an adaptive nature given any situation. No point for those in the background to be so…flashy, such as yourself. But oh, if the bike, and the leather, and that sleek, sexy bod’o’yours is worth the money spent, then more power to you~.”

“I don’t depend so much on my looks, however, to make myself known where it’s needed.” he informed him then though, walking over, and then placing his hands on the front of the sleek vehicle, presenting his unbuttoned shirt rather mockingly given the pose he was putting off. “So tell me, just where do you succeed and where do I fail? What exactly would you suggest, for me to meet such a demons style and presentation?”

How amusing that this man would wander into his domain, throw his derogatory presentation, utterly out of context without rhyme nor real reason other for the fact that Roche supposedly existed in this space right alongside… for him to turn the Third’s defence against him. 

Curious indeed. 

Though even showing little more than his own somewhat bemused grin, he would watch with baited breath as the Turk would lean against Sleipnir’s chassis, a manoeuvre which had his bright eyes flickering down to Reno’s hands and back again. 

“Well, my friend, your first step-” he draws his blade, quicker than the eye could see, sharper than a needles point as he would sweep the flat of the sword beneath the man’s chin, careful then to poke with the very tip, the unsightly bulge in his throat with enough pressure to force the man to stand and take perhaps only a single step away from his vehicle. “- is to always ask before touching the merchandise, hm~? Unsightly smears, I'll have you know, are, indeed, the bane of mine and Sleipnir’s existence. It would do you well to refrain from becoming the cause~” 

A dangerous arch of Roche’s brow determined that he certainly found no humour in that particular stunt; clearly performed to fray his nerves and raise hackles. Needless to say that Reno’s stunt had worked, even if recovery from that particular slight was swift. The blade quickly sheathed between his shoulders once Roche was satisfied that the red-head’s distance would be maintained. 

“Secondly, I must apologise on behalf of your biological makeup if it has taken so long to cultivate such chaos atop your head! Just how did this project begin, I wonder?” He leans back a little then, arms crossing over his broad chest, a a single finger playing the blond hair on his chin as he would lilt his head slightly to one side as if inspecting the man once more. “A school assignment perhaps? I would mark it down as a D minus at best. A comb would get you far in life!!”