#and i tend to talk people into seeking better jobs so i take like at least one person with me when i go

[transgayhawkeyepierce]

Everyone reblog with your most unemployable traits

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"The Test." Part One. Sugar Daddy AU. Poly!Ghostface X FEM! AFAB! Sugar Baby Reader.

Okay! OKAY! SO! Do you all remember this, from Kinky/Do-Over-December back in the day? A Stu Macher sugar daddy AU I was fucking around with? This is set in that AU again, in said fic, I mentioned a little beach house weekend getaway with some breaking and entering Ghostface role play, this? Is that! Fully realized, or at least, partially realized for now. This thing is long, I have been working on it on and off for over a fucking YEAR! I started it shortly after I met Matt and Skeet last summer at fan expo, (can you guess why I was feeling inspired?) So because this is so long, (12.6K as of right now) I figured, why not break it up into two parts? And if you guys like it a lot, I might do some more! This is meant to be a three day weekend and this thing when it is done will be just the first night technically, so hit me up and let me know what you think!

PART TWO NOW HERE!

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Rating. Explict. Length. 7.6K. Billy Loomis/Stu Mach/Sugar Baby FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Age Gap. Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby Relationship. Sex Work Is Real Work. We Respect Sex Work. Talk Of Sex. Vaginal Fingering. Talk Of Threesome. Extreme Role Play. Mask Kink. Breaking And Entering. Masturbation. Chase. Predetor/Prey. Stalking. Voyeurism. Restrained Reader. Knife Kink. Dirty Talk. Threatening And Possessive Behavior.

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Initially, it wasn’t something you put much stock into. I mean, it was one of those things that sounded too good to be true, you make a profile, you meet up with men, if you click, and they like you, they pay you to spend time with you. They take you out on dates, and buy you things and sure, they fuck you, but still you could do that? Get paid money to be good company, attractive and a great sexual partner? You think you could at least attempt it. So you figured why not, after some serious online research and looking into other people who had been successful at sugaring you decided to give it a go. You find one of these sites, you spend a good two days on your profile before it goes live and then, you wait. 

When you got your first message, it was honestly pretty exciting, even though you never ended up meeting with said first person, it got you more sure about the process. After some more interest, you end up starting it in earnest. 

You meet up in a public location, the first meeting is always feeling each other out, the next one, if there is one, is getting to know each other better, and then the next is talking about expectations on both sides. You have some real duds here and there, but over time you cultivate some good and regular clients, you make friends on your sites of choice as well as while working, a lot of the guys who look for girls like you tend to keep similar company. Regularly you go to parties or work events or the like and come across another girl just like you and begin to form relationships with them, some becoming good friends because they got it, understood what you went through because they were in it themselves. 

The guys you saw were overall good, you didn’t even have a sexual relationship with all of them, not everyone who seeks out girls in your line of work even want that, a lot just want company, to be heard, or to have someone to show off, and you made for very good arm candy.

You’d been doing good, barely had to do any regular work, still had a part-time job, but most of your lifestyle was paid for by the guys who you saw and entertained and the quality of your life had improved massively at that. You had experience and a good reputation, so when a regular client dropped off, as they sometimes do, he moved too far to be able to continue to see you as he liked, you needed someone to fill the gap. In no particular rush, still fairly comfortable, you were able to be picky about who you accepted into your life. When you got the message from him, it wasn’t this huge defining moment, it was plain and perfectly average, but aren’t most things that end up being fantastic? 

After some regular chatting back and forth together, you and he agree to a meeting, lunch out at one of your favourite spots for testing out a new potential client. 

To say that your life totally changed after that lunch would be incorrect. It was more of a slow burn. Stu Macher was significantly older than you, attractive, had some job pertaining to finance, runs in the family apparently, and had money to toss around. You are not the first girl he’d had in an arrangement like this but, he told you, he has some particular qualities he is looking for in a long term set up. He was up front and honest, he wanted to see you more, he liked you, thought you and he got along well, and you thought the same, but he wanted to test you out. 

“Test me out how?” You asked, and he said, “Like we see each other for a few months and see how it goes, if this can be what I’ve been looking for.”

Interesting. You appreciate his candour if nothing else, you can get behind someone who is explicit and clear about what they want, especially in this respect. “Can I ask what it is that you are looking for?” 

He has this smile that is dripping in undeniable charm before he speaks, “No need to rush, right? Let’s have some fun and not stress.” You assumed that is what will tell him if this, and by extension you, are “right.” 

You could do that, could be fun and easy and go with the flow. What did you have to lose?

Stu is a fun guy, he works hard and is desperate to have a good time and de-stress, you take that want seriously and he takes notice. You do all manner of things together, mostly he plans dates, but you suggest some once you get more comfortable, and he likes that, it not being all up to him, more of a joint effort after a certain point. You clean up amazingly well, he can bring you to any event he wants to, and you slot right in. As for the physical aspect, you didn’t rush into it, but once you got there, it was kind of hard to stop. It became a very frequent thing, you did not mind at all, especially because it led to a slow shift, Stu wanted you around more and more, other clients got in the way of that. 

It was the afternoon, you’d been with Stu since the previous evening, you were trying to leave because you had to go get ready for an event someone else was taking you out to, and he didn’t want you to go. You were sat on the edge of the bed, trying to get your boots on, getting the rest of your outfit back on thus far had been a total fight, he was currently holding you. Arms were loose around your neck as he was leaning into you, “Come on, stay. Let me take you out to that dinner spot you like, the one that we hit up last month, the rooftop place that does the pasta thing-” 

You cut him off with a grin and a laugh, “Stu, I can’t, I have to go. I’ve already stayed way later than I was supposed to but I gotta go home, shower, change…” His arms had slipped down, hands rest on your arms near your elbows, he was laying some kisses along your neck, and you let out a groan with a roll of your eyes, “Knock it off.” You try to let the smile drop off your face as you complain, but you fail.

“I don’t know why you have to go.” He sighed, sounded like he was pouting, his head leaning against yours, and you tell him as you zip up your left boot, “Because I have other people to see.”

“See, that is what I mean! I don't know why you have to see anyone else.” 

You shake his arms off of you and stand up, you turn to see him, sheets are pooled around his hips, and he is shirtless looking up at you. It is a sight that is all too welcome, one you seriously wish you didn’t have to leave. Instead of telling him that, you say, “They help pay for my life, this is my job.”

It is true. Stu had become such a regular that in combination with him and your other clients you were able to quit that shitty part-time job, able to do this full-time. The past couple of months with him were great, you felt good about shifting gears to doing this all the time, thankful he was able to help make it happen.

He looks thoughtful, something is weighing on him, it is as if you can see him turning over the thought on his mind and as you are collecting your bag and coat he says, “What if I gave you more money?”

“What?”

You glance at him over your shoulder, and he says with a shrug, effectively repeating himself, “What if I give you more money? Then you wouldn’t have to go, could stay here with me.” 

Your eyebrows raise as you deadpan, “Stu, please. Don’t joke about that.”

“Who says I’m joking? Does it look like I’m joking?” He asked, and you respond, “You are grinning like you do when you are joking.” 

“What can I say? I just look better with a smile on my face.” You had to agree, but you don’t verbalize it. He speaks again before you can, “I mean it, though. What if I give you more, then you can have more time for me.”

Was he for real? “It would take like a lot more.”

“I have a lot more to give.” He challenged. Searching his eyes, you could tell he meant it. You said, “I need time to think on it.”

His reply is immediate. “Why?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, you don’t want to offend but you and he could be open, honest, and you appreciated that about your set-up, so in the interest of continuing it, you told him, “Because like you said this is meant to be a more casual thing right? You are testing me out, I don’t wanna burn bridges with great clients I copped before you came into the picture if you are gonna leave soon. What am I supposed to do if you bail out?”

It’s tense for a moment. You are staring at him, and he is staring back. It was true, what were you meant to do if he leaves? You could seriously struggle until you build up a good clientele base again. 

“You trust me so much.” He teases, the tone is light and affectionate, and you let your shoulders fall back down, happy he didn’t take serious offence to what you said, “Stu, I do, but seriously, this isn’t a choice that can be made quickly, give me some time to really think on it?”  

“No, no, you’re right. You are just being careful, it’s smart, responsible. I respect you for it.” His smile drops, he says it earnestly, and you believe him as he adds, “Think it over.”

You walk to him, bag over your shoulder, coat folded over your arm, your hand comes out and cups the side of his face, you lean down and kiss him. You linger in it, he lets it be what it is, doesn’t take the opportunity to try and entice you back into his bed, even though if he tried hard enough, he probably could. 

Once you pull back, you tell him, “I will.” You leave him slowly, fingers caressing him, your thumb passing over his cheekbone as you go. “See you Stu.” 

You didn’t bring it up the next time you saw him and neither did he, you think he was waiting you out, seeing when you’d say something. You think about it the whole time, but you just aren’t sure if it is right. Things aren’t weird between you both, if anything, it gets even better and so you at last initiate the conversation, or rather, you are going to, but he starts a different one with you first. 

“Are you busy on Sunday morning?” It was Thursday, you were having lunch, you tell him honestly, “As of right now, no. Why?” 

“I was thinking we could go out to brunch. There’s someone I want to introduce you to.” 

He’d introduced you to lots of people, but usually it was when bumping into someone while out and about or at a party or some other thing he dragged you to. You had never been asked to some specific date to meet a particular person. You asked, “Oh, and who’s that?” 

You had heard a lot about Billy Loomis. Stu had told you a ton about him, shared old stories and made frequent mentions of the times they hung out over the past months you’ve been in Mr.Macher’s life, he even showed you some pictures. One evening a month into your arrangement, he showed you a picture from back when they were in high school. You take it from his fingers with a grin as you exclaim, “Oh my God! So you’ve just always been hot, huh?” 

You don’t comment on it at the time, but you thought his lifetime best friend who was sitting next to him on the fountain in the photograph was pretty hot too. When Stu posed the idea of you meeting him? You jumped at the opportunity, a passive thought at the back of your mind wondering if he aged as well as Stu had. 

It is quarter to eleven o’clock when you stride into the place with Stu. You have your hand on his arm, and you are caught up in something he is saying, looking up at him until you see his gaze catch something, original thought and sentence abandoned as his grin widens and calls out, “Hey man!” 

You follow where he is looking and eyes fall on who is unmistakably who you are here to see, yeah he was of course older than he was in the picture that you saw but no doubt it was him. He gets up as you both approach, a polite gesture and one that isn’t necessary, but the fact he did is telling, it resonates. You like that. 

He is also very obviously checking you out, you also like that. 

Seeing how Stu interacted with him first hand is a total treat. The greeting and how they touch shows a friendly familiarity, both leaning into the hug like it was the most natural thing either of them had ever done. You knew they were still in touch and spent time together regularly but witnessing it all in real time is a different story. They get along well, a clear history and investment between them both. He asked you questions and genuinely listened, seemed interested, he also responded to your questions too.

“When did you and Stu meet?” 

“He didn’t tell you?” He asked with a smile, and Stu cuts in, “She never asked!”

“What am I gonna do with you, man?” He sighs the sigh of the world-weary and put upon yet still with a smile on his face he next imparts, “Let me tell you how it happened since he apparently won’t.” 

They’d known each other since they were kids, well before high school, longer than you’d anticipated, lifetime best friends indeed. You thought it was nice, a friends forever kind of deal, the fact they’ve remained close so far into adulthood and still made time for each other was honestly kind of touching. The conversation even went into some stories of their friendship while they were growing up, excited recollections shared over crêpes, eggs benny, coffee and fresh fruit juice.

It was a good time, you were glad you agreed to come, and after you ate but before the check you excused yourself to the bathroom. 

As soon as you were out of earshot, Stu was staring at his friend as he asked, “Soooo?”

Billy looked away from your retreating form, and more in particular your ass, and instead back across the table to Stu, “Soooo what?”

He scoffs with a roll of his eyes, “So, what do you think of her?”

“Oh she’s great. I totally get what you mean when you’ve been talking about her, funny, cute, lively, a real good time.” He admits with a half shrug and Stu sighed, “But?”

It hangs for a moment before the response comes, “But I dunno if she is right for what we want to do.” 

“There it is, I fucking knew it!” A light hit of his hand on the table that made the dirty plates jostle slightly, a quiet rattle before he goes in on Billy. “Why isn’t she good enough?” Stu is leaning forward on his crossed arms as he presses, and Billy says, “It’s a serious thing, man, it isn’t for just anyone.”

“You think I don’t know that? I wouldn’t bring her if I didn’t think she was right. I’ve been seeing her for months and really, Billy, she is something else.” Stu insists, and Billy sighs, “So you keep saying.”

Lowering his voice next, he responds with,“You helped pick her out, remember? You liked her first, and I put in the effort to do this.” 

“Don’t act like it’s a chore, you and I both know you don’t hate the selection process or the ‘trying them out’ either. You’d be seeking out these kinds of arrangements even without my hand in it, this is just a bonus for us both, one that doesn’t need to be rushed into either.” Billy told him and Stu said, “I am not saying that at all, of course I like it dude, and I am not rushing this, I am just saying, what do we have to lose by trying this and by you trusting me?”

The small staring contest across the table lasts less than a tense silence filled minute before Billy speaks, seemingly surprised, “Shit, you really do think she’s right.”

“Duh, that’s what I’ve been saying. Listen to me, I’ve been careful, I’ve played, pushed the boundaries and I think she is the best we could ever hope for so.” The pause isn’t long, but it doesn’t need to be before the real question is posed. “Can I ask?” 

When you came back to the table, the brunch lasted less than twenty more minutes before the bill was paid and you and Stu parted ways from Billy. Warm goodbyes and waves, and promises to do this again sometime soon. 

Naturally, on the way back to his place he is asking what you thought of it all, and you admitted that you thought Billy was cool, enjoyed getting to know him and were looking forward to next time. That real question was asked with you spread out on his couch, him leaning over you, hand between your legs and two fingers curling just right inside you, his mouth lifts off your neck as he asks, “What are your feelings on the topic of threesomes?”

An indulgent smile crosses your face, a deep breath as you ask, “Was this what pushed you to introduce me to him today?”

Another flex of his fingers makes it hard to breathe normally, and he says, “Answer the question.” 

You nod shakily and tell him your stance on threesomes over the wet sound of his fingers working in and out of you, “Pro. Very, very pro.”

That answer was just what he wanted to hear, but it didn’t end there. “You’d be into it then, hm? You wanna fuck my best friend?” 

You were helpless to do anything else but moan your consent as you clenched around his fingers. “Yeah, you want it. Want to get split open from both ends, totally used.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact that you completely agreed with. You did. The more he talked about it, the better it sounded. More words shared, more dirty talk, hopeful ideas posed, and you were clearly eating every last bit of it up. Soon enough your legs were around his hips and he was as deep as could be, hands on your back and asking low in your ear, “We were thinking next weekend, you’d like that?” 

Holy shit, yes you would. 

It wasn’t just a threesome he, or rather, they wanted, it was a little more complex than that. He outlined what he wanted in full, when you weren’t actively fucking, and it was so clear, so precise, it was impressive. Clearly, they both had wanted it for a long while, he seems very excited when telling you about it, and it got you excited, the whole thing sounded so hot, you readily agreed, you trusted him, the plan was made. 

You could hardly contain your excitement for the next week, but soon enough you are in your rented car, driving yourself to where you’d been instructed to for this weekend’s plan. The drive is a good one, relaxing, it’s summer and mid-morning, the radio is playing and you are feeling good.

Upon arrival and getting out, you place your sunglasses on top of your head, staring up at the multi-level beach house you’d be residing in for the next three days, it’s massive for only one person and stunning, well maintained. Bags gotten from the back, you don’t waste time on the driveway and make your way inside. The outside didn’t even do it justice, looks even better inside, big windows, lots of natural light, the living room is comfortable, the kitchen is gorgeous, the back patio looks like the perfect place to have lunch later. 

You scope out the rest of the place, drop your bags in the bedroom upstairs, and you spend the rest of the day however you like. A trip into the nearby town, you get some good food, plan out what you are going to make for dinner, when you are back you have that lunch on the patio and the rest of your afternoon? After you change, you head down to the beach and spend it in the water and on the sand, relaxing with some music and a book. 

It’s hours and hours later. 

Dinner was fantastic, you’d made one of your favourites, indulged in dessert and drew a bath that you soaked in for a long time before finally pulling yourself out of it. Fluffy robe around yourself, you make your way back to the bedroom and take advantage of your very relaxed state at the moment, you hadn’t even bothered to tie the robe up, flopping back onto the bed. The robe was open, mostly just looped around your shoulders at this point, one hand slipping down your body and intent on working up a sweat, adding to the moisture on your already damp skin. 

You put on a very good show. 

They’d let you arrive first, but had been casually watching from afar for a while. They didn’t tell you when they’d arrive, they’d showed up when you had been cleaning up from lunch and then got changed for the beach. The pair had brought their bags in while you were in the water, hid them in the basement before really watching you, too far down the beach for you to recognize them, looking like just two average beach goers. This was fun, the casual stalking, the clear thought and intention, building anticipation for later that night. 

Stu opens the cooler upon his friends’ prompting, passing him the cold can, “How long have we wanted to do this?”

Billy exhaled as he accepted the beer, “Fuck man, years, don’t ask me how many, but years.”

A small beat before Stu asks, “Think it will live up to it?” 

“I’m trying to keep my expectations…” He hums as he cracks open the can, he takes a sip, leaves Stu hanging before finally saying, “-Realistic.”

“Come on, don’t act like you aren’t excited.” Stu nudged him before opening up his own can and Billy shifted in his comfortable beach chair, he was half hard watching you coming back out of the water, totally unaware of them. He was excited, really excited but again, talking about it and experiencing it are different, he isn’t trying to get his hopes up too high. 

“I’m into it, I swear, just again I dunno how it’s all gonna pan out.” 

“Your lack of faith is staggering.” Stu deadpans and Billy proceeds to defend himself, a gesture of his hands trying to communicate his point more strongly, “Listen, I am being open, I’m just not convinced.”

Receiving a harsh look, Stu’s mouth a flat unimpressed line is what makes Billy add on, “Yet.” 

Billy’s smile makes Stu smile too, and he says, “I’ll make you eat those words.” 

A small shake of his head as he brings up his drink for another sip,“I honestly hope you do.” 

The conversation on the beach was hours ago, their own shared meal eaten outside in the dark, hidden, watching you through the window as you sat at the table and indulged in what you made. After that, while you were bathing, they busied themselves with getting geared up in the garage, they’d stowed the outfits there earlier and had let themselves in through the side door. 

The excitement permeates the space between the pair. 

There is no talking at this moment, but both are thinking so loud, it was as if they were having a full-blown conversation, memories of previous times and feelings of exhilaration over what new stories to recall could be made tonight. Boot laces tied tightly, and robes over street clothes, masks on making breathing sound so much deeper and gloves pulled onto hands, over itchy fingers desperate to do all manner of depravity. 

It starts the way they always wanted it to, the only way that it should, with a phone call. 

Your phone on is on the nightstand, and it rings, your head lolls back, a look over, nose scrunching up wondering who is calling at this time. You roll onto your stomach, you scoop up your phone with one hand before rolling back over, you look at the screen, unknown number, but you shrug and answer it anyway, what have you got to lose? You swipe and bring the phone down to your ear and say, “Hello?”

You hear a laugh, small and a tad surprised, before the greeting is returned, “Hello there.” 

Curious, now why would the person on the other end be laughing? It prompts you to ask, “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing, don’t worry about it.” Interesting, you ask, “Sorry, so, uh who is this?”

“Awfully inquisitive, aren’t you?” He asks, and you ask in turn, your hand that wasn't holding the phone is up in front of your face, you are looking at it as you speak, “Am I?”

“All you’ve said so far are questions, from greeting to now, can’t it just be enough that I am a…Curious party.” You spread your fingers, they are still wet from your earlier activities. You are still soaked, aching, throbbing, thighs rub together restlessly as you ask further, “A curious party?”

“Yeah, just someone looking for some good conversation on a lonely Friday night, desperate for someone interesting to talk to, and you seem very, very interesting.” 

You spread your fingers again, watch the creamy strings of arousal break apart from the action, you ask, “Really? I seem that interesting that I am your best option to spend your time with on a Friday evening?” 

“What’s wrong with that?” Whoever he was asked, your hand comes down without thought, you suck the mess from your fingers, the taste is tangy and salty, thoroughly you, delightful. You pull your fingers back out of your mouth as you respond wetly into the phone, “Nothing terminal, it’s just a tad…”

You swallow it down and then finish your thought, “Pathetic.”

The voice sounds almost offended on the other end, shocked as he asks, “Pathetic?”

“Just a little! Like you don’t have a hot date or plans to see a movie, you are just, what? Cold calling strangers in hopes of someone to talk to? Kinda screams pathetic.” You are smiling, damp fingertips linger on your bottom lip and the voice speaks, once again curious as if still in disbelief over your assertion, “I’m pathetic?”

You roll your eyes and say, “Half-pathetic, is that better? C’mon, don’t get hung up on it, we were having fun, weren’t we?”

“Seems you were having more fun before I called.” He bites, and it’s your turn to laugh, “What makes you say that?” 

The question was genuine, how did he have any idea what you were up to before he called?

You got your answer very quickly, “As much as I am enjoying this conversation, I think you were enjoying having those fingers buried in that pretty little cunt a Hell of a lot more than this back and forth we are having at the moment.”

Heart drops, stomach tightens and your thighs still, hand dropping from your mouth, silence overtakes, how the fuck did he know that? 

It’s heavy for a moment until he breaks the quiet, “Oh you got nothing to say to that? Now who’s pathetic?” 

Your mouth opens and closes, tongue runs nervously over your lips as you try to find the words to respond, attempting to conjure up an adequate response but none springs to mind fast enough because he cuts in again, he sounds a mix between dangerously venomous and utterly amused, “You really are struggling! Did your brain leak outta your skull, hmm? No blood flow between the ears, it seems, it’s all pooled between your legs.” 

You sit up, mouth having fully fallen open, the words trying to soak into your grey matter as you bite back, “I have a brain!” 

The response from the receiver is sharper in tone than the edge of a fucking knife. “Act like it.” 

Holy fucking shit. 

You still have not spoken, so he continues to, “Because right now, you just seem totally fucking brain-dead, can’t even string a single sentence together. Is your mind elsewhere? Do you want to keep putting on a show for me instead?-”

He can see you. He has to, how else would he know what you have been up to, he is fucking talking, again,  “-I bet you do. Go on, go ahead, get those fingers back in that tight looking little hole, I’m waiting.”

You were not about to do this, were you? There was no fucking way that you would give in so easily, no you weren’t about to start masturbating for this freak on the phone, you were going to do something far more productive, track the son of a bitch. You are sitting up, looking around, the still wet hand closing your robe over your chest while your other hand held the phone to your ear. 

Get your body covered, get up off the bed, make sure the doors are locked, make it, so this freak can’t get in, go, go, go- his voice cuts through your train of thought once more, “Oh you are so cute! You are not going to find me that easily.” 

He might be right, but that doesn’t mean you were going to give up that easily, you are out of bed, robe is closed, and you are across the room, hand on the door knob, you twist, pull, the door opens, and it is revealed that you are in fact not actually alone in this beach house. 

“Surprise!” 

A tall figure clad in black hooded robes, a bleached bone white mask staring down at you, black eyes and mouth twisted open in a permanent scream, it makes you want to do that yourself. 

Instead, what you do is react quicker than you ever thought you could, you drop the phone, your hand comes up, and you move, slamming the door closed, one hand on the wood and the other still braced on the knob moves, you click the lock closed. Backing up, hands held up, bare foot brushing against the discarded cell abandoned on the floor as if on a cue the phone starting ringing when you made contact with it again, you jumped and vowed not to answer it. The pounding on the door is loud and incessant, he’s strong, he can get in here if he really wants to, and it sounds like he really fucking wants to. You think fast, you look around the room and make a choice that you can’t stay in here, you have a place you can go, but it’s risky, you have to be careful. 

You turn on your heel and move, abandon the door and still ringing phone and as you leave both sounds gets a little quieter, you enter into the ensuite bathroom, you close its door and lock it too before you hurry to the window. Cinching the robe’s belt tighter around your waist, you double knot it, and then you open the window, the breeze rolls in, fresh air on your face feels nice, soothing and calming, a slight balm to your currently frayed nerves and overactive mind, the smell of sea salt is strong. 

Fingers deftly roll your sleeves up, folding them, so they rest around your elbows, and then you set to your plan, you start to climb out the window. This place had a slanted roof, at a small angle, one you’d have to be cautious walking on, but you could walk on it all the same. You were going to hold on for dear life and make your way to the guest bedroom window, creep in quietly and then be able to hopefully get downstairs and out, away from this freak who wants to do God knows what to you. 

Doing this barefoot, is it smart or stupid? You find you can’t decide as you carefully step on the rough tiling, you have one hand on the top of the windowsill, and soon you are out into the open air, you keep one hand up, and slowly you start to move, hand braced on the roof, fingers passing over as you shuffle and move. You feel like a bit of a cliché’ as you keep thinking, “Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down-” 

You manage to make it after about a minute of mindful manoeuvring, your hand grips onto the window’s ledge and your other hand forces the window open, thank the Lord it wasn’t locked. The want to throw yourself inside is immense, but you have to be careful, instead you ease yourself in, ears strain to listen, you don’t hear the pounding, did he give up? You have to check. You creep to the door and peek out down the hallway towards the bedroom you’d been staying in, the door is open, and he is nowhere to be found, shit. 

No point in lingering, you have to make a move, or he will find you, quick and quiet feet carry you through the door and to the top of the stairs, your hand grips the railing, and you are about to start your descent when your periphery catches it, a flash of black fabric. Your heart seizes, and you swallow thickly, stomach dropping you don’t wait to confirm it, sure your mind might be playing tricks on you in your heightened state of terror, but why risk it? 

Down you go. 

You think that outside is best, try to make it down the dark beach under the cover of the night to the next beach house, ask for help, the robe you wore is white and not exactly the best for sneaking around, “Beggars can’t be choosers-” you muse as you pad down the hallway and towards the kitchen. You make your way through and were headed to the doors at the back leading out to the patio, so close, you’d be outside again and could hopefully make your escape. 

You have sincere hope. 

That same hope was short-lived. It died when the door swung open before you could reach it, when that same figure from earlier in that same outfit stepped inside. Tall and imposing, the air carried in from outside smelt like the beach usually does, salt tinges the air, you can hear the faint crash of the waves outside. The fragile and glass like pane of your now clearly false sense of security, that bubble of unearned cocky confidence that you could do this, get out, unscathed? It burst, popped, lays shattered at your feet that were currently trying to go backwards again. You don’t turn, try to back up as the one your eyes are locked on is advancing, the door had been closed, it’s too quiet, black boots on tile as he approaches, and you back up into something solid, firm, warm. Eyes look up, head tips back, a second figure, another mask, ah yes, of course. 

There are two of them, after all. 

No chance to move, hands settle slowly on your shoulders, a squeeze that is firm and felt through the plush material of the robe. The feeling of another hand on you makes your head snap back down, leather clad fingers trace down your chin and neck, “You did better than I thought you would. You mighta got away with it if it was just him, if I wasn’t outside watching, I saw your little stunt on the roof. Impressive honestly, real brave.”

His hand is moving lower, fingers dipping into the split in the front of your robe and something in you snaps, you don’t want to give in or give up yet, so you, once again, move. You pushed, both hands land on his chest, and you shove him backwards, the action is fast, it catches him off guard, perhaps he was a little too confident himself, assuming his accomplice having his hands on you would root you to the spot in fear alone. It is not enough, the other man’s grip was loose and with an elbow thrown back right after, catching him in the stomach you are off the second his hands slip away. 

You go to the left and try to pick up the pace as fast as you possibly can, you can still make it out of this intact, but you didn’t account for a few things. The floors are tile transitioning to hardwood, you are barefoot and sweating from fear and adrenaline, and how far they can reach, the minor moment it takes to recover after partially slipping is more than enough to give them the edge they require. 

You had made it a whole five pathetic steps before the hand is locked firmly onto your arm and yanking you back, hitting into the solid wall of his chest. You feel the touch of cool plastic from the mask he wore on the side of your face as he breathes out, “Aweee, too fucking bad.” 

The grip is unyielding as you are moved against your will, dragged towards the kitchen table, you struggle the whole way even though it is futile, helpless to the point it pulls a laugh out of them. 

“Such a try-hard!” Croons the one hauling you over hardwood, your toes barely skimming the smooth surface as you try to kick and wriggle away, “It’s adorable.” Calls the other, you can hear his smile behind the mask, following behind at a leisurely pace. 

Soon you are right in front of the table, and you are turned, ass pressed against the corner, there are hands-on your wrists, holding your hands behind your back, the grip painfully tight by the figure behind you. Yet you don’t give in, not bothered by the unusual angle of the edge of the table that between you and him. The table is heavy and thick wood, even the smallest part of it combined with his hands make your continued attempt once again laughable, no way you can have enough strength or leverage to budge the piece of furniture. You are still struggling, but the other one steps forward, his hands lock onto your shoulders. “Knock it off.”

Held by them, the multiple points of contact, the support of the table, you are thoroughly fucked. The bright flame of hope of escape inside of you dims, but the part of you that is acutely aware that this is a game, that under these masks are the men you know, one who you trust immensely, Stu, and the other his best friend Billy, and that thought? Instead, makes arousal spark in terrors place. You can truly allow yourself to feel everything, can give yourself over and into the game they set up.

“Seriously, you’ve lost. Accept it honey.” The last word is spoken with a particular spine-chilling bite that allows a tinge of fear to remain, you let it fuel the want further. 

You were just in this position. Your eyes flick over the few feet where you were bracketed by them both, totally boxed in, you had not been able to get away, no match for them. One hand is off your shoulder, the leather clad hand is gripping your face, it makes your eyes snap back to the mask staring you down. “Your eyes should always be on us, understood?”

Which one was this? You thought you’d be able to tell because of all your experience with Stu, but you really cannot nail it down, you are intimately familiar with Stu’s touch and his voice, but they sound different, not at all familiar. Not in a bad way, the voice they’ve adopted somehow is more than working for you, deeper, smooth yet still rough around the edges; the timbre of it resonates deep within, makes you think if pressed to bone it could vibrate you from the inside out, shake what makes you, you from your very body, separate spirit from flesh.

You’d have to ask later how they were doing it. 

Right now, you respond to what he said, a small nod as you confess, “I understand.”

“Good.” He all but purrs as his hand pats your cheek, condescendingly. 

“Ready for us to start having some real fun? Make that lame little conversation we had on the phone seem dull in comparison?” The one behind questioned and the one in front seemed all too enthusiastic. 

“God yes.” Came the response, “Watching her on the beach earlier was a total tease and I could barely get a good look at her in bed, I need to see this body up close.” 

No chance to react to the knowledge they were watching you on the beach, they probably were stalking you all fucking day without you even realizing it. Hands grip and your robe is pulled open and pushed down, your arms are locked to your sides by how the material bunches and sits, your tits fully out and on display. 

“Look at her.” Gloved hands are on you, touching you, palming your chest, groping, thumbs pass over your nipples lightly making you inhale a hair harder. You feel the mask on your bared shoulder, the assailant behind you also taking in the view and the slow, easy touches of leather encased fingers on delicate flesh.

“She’s not made of glass, you won’t break her.” The encouragement makes the treatment get rougher, a pinch of the sensitive peaks makes you tense momentarily from the jolt of pain. 

They take notice. Amusement is back as the one currently rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers says, “Oh, we are gonna be a lot rougher than that, but, don’t worry, you can take it.” 

As if to punctuate what he said and prove he can make good on his promise, one hand abandons toying with you and smacks your breast. The pain is different, sharper, it gets a bigger reaction, you squirm, body bows, and he hits again, another rock of your body, another hit lands. You exhale sharply, and you can feel the energy between the pair, it’s light and giddy. 

“Can’t wait to see all the reactions we can pull outta her. Get her on the table.” 

“In a minute.” Calls the one behind you. He lets go of your wrists, confident you are too distracted to do much of anything in the midst of your tit torture session. He unties the robe’s belt around your waist and pulls it behind, using it to bind your wrists, he twists and twines it, wraps it around, knots it tightly, with the thick material still bunched around your elbows, your arms are effectively useless. 

“There.” The one behind says before he hooks his fingers in the expert knots and pulls hard, your back hits the table, your tied hands rest in the small of your back, your weight on top of them will make them fall asleep you are sure of it as you groan. Between them both, you are adjusted, your head is hanging off the edge of the table, legs half hanging off the other side. You are exposed totally now, the robe is barely on and has fallen to the sides, neck, chest, stomach and lower all bare.

One of the chairs next to your head is pulled out, leg raises, black boot on the seat of the chair in plain view of you, and you watch as the knife on the ankle holster is removed. The knife is large, you’ve seen it before, in a movie once, the name flashes through your mind, bowie sounds correct. 

His boot moves, swings down, connects with the floor again and in a swift movement you feel the edge of cold steel against your throat. Your eyes go wide, a harsh swallow and the knife is held closer, if you attempted this action again you are sure that your skin would break, and you would bleed, a frightfully exciting concept. 

“This here is what we like to call incentive.” He all but purrs and the one at the other end of the table, currently standing between your legs, pipes up, “That’s a big word, you might want to spell it out.” 

A shared laugh, “Good point.” The flat of the blade taps, and he expounds, “This is here to make sure that you do every filthy, fucked up thing that crosses our minds, understood?” 

You had no option but to comply, to play nice and play the part of the good pliant fuck doll. 

The next move couldn’t be clearer to you. Eyes flick up and meet his hidden behind that mask, you tilt your chin up, holding your head with confidence, leaning into the blade, not shying away, not fearful and asked, “What’s first?”

[w4w4lycsss]

EXTRA CLASSES | MORGIE LE FAY

Request: Morgie x gn reader where the reader tutors morgie and is a goody too shoes, but is terrified of him since the reader is Merlin's child Pairing: Morgie Le Fay x gn!Merlin's child A/n: I was asked for this request by private message, I don't mind if you write to me there if you have any ideas!

You tugged at the sleeves of your sweater before sighing in resignation, entering the library and cursing yourself for having accepted the favor your father had done for you. You always had good grades and you were diligent, the best in the class, so you weren't surprised that the people asked you for help with certain jobs, and you liked to help.

Now you were really, really regretting being so approachable and kind, because you're inside the library looking around for Morgie Le Fay to help him with his grades and be his tutor. You sigh in resignation, trying to calm your nerves combined with absolute terror of being near a villain to approach the table where he was.

You cleared your throat, making him lower his feet from the table upon noticing your presence. "Hi I am-"

“I know who you are, can we do this quickly?” He rolled his eyes, resting his face on his hands with his elbows on the table.

You nodded slightly and sat next to him, taking some books out of your bag and placing them on the table. “Do you know anything about Herbology?”

“Plants are boring.”

"That is a no. Very well, the first thing you have to do is learn their appearance to know how to differentiate them.”

“Maleficent said that in your leaf house there is a plant that works as a drug, is it true?” He interrupted you, smiling evilly.

You frown and purse your lips, maintaining your composure. "No, it is not. Firstly, it is a greenhouse, secondly, at school we are not allowed to consume that kind of-”

He groans in protest, rolling his eyes. "Yes yes anyway. The faster you talk, the faster I’ll get out of here.”

You sigh tiredly, beginning to read the brief description of your Herbology book, knowing well that he wasn't paying attention to you. After an hour and a half, you check your pocket watch, realizing that time is up. You don't bother telling him because as soon as you take out the watch, he stands up and leaves without saying a single word.

You don't go to your room when you leave the library, you prefer to go to your friend Bridget's room to seek solace after feeling humiliated, a feeling that grows more when you pass by the VK group, listening to how Morgie told them that it was the most boring afternoon of his life.

"I don't understand! I don't know whether to be rude or nice, nothing blends.” You protest in frustration as your friend removes the clips from your hair and combs it gently.

“It's not your fault, maybe you should be more patient. It was your first day, I bet tomorrow will be better:”

You sigh in resignation, not being as positive as her.

The following days continue to be very boring and stressful for you, because you must do your homework as a student and prefect supervision (being Merlin's child) before tutoring time with Morgie, to which you arrive tired and not in the mood to know what whether he is paying attention to you or not.

One day you wake up particularly bitter, or rather, desperate. You can't stand another day with so many responsibilities and you tend to repress your desire to cry from stress, Morgie is increasingly unbearable and you feel that the next victim of the VK jokes at any moment is going to be you.

“Le Fay, I need you to pay attention to me, these topics will be on the exam.” You ask with a pleading tone and annoying desperation.

"You need it?" He scoffs when he hears you say something different than the words in the book.

You had reached your limit. You stand up and hit the table hard with one of your hands while you look at him angrily; Your eyes turn an intense blue color beyond the iris, you extend your hand towards the library door and they are closed by your magical force.

"Enough! I can't be more patient, I've been struggling for a month with not losing my sanity.” Your voice resonates even more strongly because of your power. “I've done everything I can to get you to pay attention to me and do better in class, I'm not going to let my reputation be ruined by someone so…annoying!”

“No one asked you to help me.”

“Yes, yes they did. My father and the pressure to be perfect asked for it. I can’t believe someone like you scared me at first.” Your eyes return to their natural color but your expression is still annoying, and the magic has not been reversed. 

"Scared…?"

“Yes, you are a VK, as annoying as everyone. I thought maybe it would be easier to handle you. Ugh!”

Morgie's eyes flash as she hears the way you spoke to him, feeling hisface flush even though he wasn't going to admit it, clearing his throat and reaching out to grab the book you were previously reading to read on his own.

Maybe you had gotten something into him.

Another day you decided to agree to give him another class no matter how angry you were with him that day, you put your books in your backpack and began to walk towards the library with a firm and angry step, looking at the floor

Your head was planning possible ideas to make him focus on his class when you bumped into someone, pushing you back.

You held your head in your hands before the blow, looking up to apologize. "Ah, I'm sorry, I wasn't watching."

"Hello, and/n."

"Morgie?" You were shocked, feeling like the scary kid who first met him. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to look for you, actually." He cleared his throat, stuffing something into his pockets. "We may not study today, I want to spend the afternoon with you and... ask for your forgiveness."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, very seriously." He looked up, embarrassed. "I was an idiot."

"Okay, at least you admit it." You smiled a little. "Are you sure you don't want to study today?"

"Perhaps, we could study somewhere else:" He smiled back. Go to the Black Lagoon?"

"It's okay, I have what we need in my backpack."

Morgie dared to hug your shoulders with his arm, as if they had known each other all their lives and you hadn't yelled at him with stress a week ago, but it felt like being with him. There was a comfortable feeling in your chest as he approached you, as if your anger and fear had instantly disappeared because of his newfound interest.

[fluff-n-cookies]

I saw your post for more platonic Dabi and I was wondering how you think Dabi would comfort a reader who had a panic attack and or is extremely socially anxious and always seeks him out for comfort. Whenever reader is anxious in public they hold onto the corner of his shirt or sleeve and tend to follow him or stick close to his side. If reader didn’t have the best home life then they’re probably constantly afraid Dabi is going to hate them or leave them. Reader is the kind of person who will let people talk down to them, mistreat them but heaven forbid anyone so much as looks at Dabi in distain/disgust. Reader will defend him with their life and is constantly defending him from other people’s opinions. Basically just reader and Dabi being each other’s found family

Okay, for starters I would like to apologize from the deepest depths of my heart. I am not right the head (obviously.) and I would like to give you the right to owning my soul, for I have been putting off your kind request for so long, and I genuinely am so sorry for the delay.

Now I actually think that this is very interesting especially form an analytical stand point.

Because Dabi does not like weak people. both physically and mentally. It's primarily rooted form his turbulent relationship with his father where he constantly tried to get stronger and better through training and pushing himself to be a strong as possible to please his father. his idol.

from that I think he would despise those weaker than him, not because he actually hates them, but more so because he needs to put other people down to rise himself up. it's more so "it's not that I should succeed, others should fail." it makes him feel better about himself, gives him that feeling of accomplishment that he would normally get from his father saying "good job." but eh rather gets it from bullying.

You'd have to do something truly spectacular to catch his eye for him to not put you down like he does everyone else.

I don't think it could be kindness, since when Rei persuades him to stop training an pushing himself so hard, he instead takes it as her trying to stop him. I'm not saying that that exact senario would play out as in

reader : Dabi! I got you flowers.

Dabi : YOU WANT TO STOP ME FROM BEING A HERO??!?!?!?!?

I'm saying he has a hard time accepting kindness, I'm saying he might not know what is someone trying to help him and what is someone trying to hurt him. like Rei does. this might actually draw him away.

I think what might actually work is the relationship he had with Fuyumi and Natsuo. because all three were heavily affected by their father's neglect and violence and I think that this may be evidence of sympathy or a ledge to protect them one day as a hero.

(of course, he doesn't become a hero, rather going partially insane as I would say and focusing on getting revenge on Enji, most likely to avenge himself and his brother and sister.)

what may lead him to you is the shared sympathy the both of you have when it comes to bad origins. it's the same sympathy he had with this siblings (minus Shoto) I'm thinking he walks in at the wrong time while you're in the middle of crying your heart out I do that way to often and while he doesn't interfere right at that moment, he will talk to you as best as his unsocial ass can. things like "sorry that happened to you." "you're not alone, that happened to me too." undercover of sarcastic remarks like "you're such a crybaby."

or something easier where the both of you reveal more and about your pasts forming a close relationship. details like "my dad would be pissed about that." or "ugh! that's something mom would say!" after a cruel insult. it would be an unspoken bond but a bond nonetheless.

this gives him an undying sympathy for you that he can't properly express. trust me he has so many things to say.

"I love you."

"thank you for being there for me."

"I would give you the world if asked."

"you're the reason I get up in the morning."

but for a child of an abusive and unloving relationship, the words are just not there. no seriously. there's only this feeling of warmth with you and nothing else. no words, only a flurry of pinkish love.

He'll let you come to him like the little ball of fear and sadness you are at times, he'll let you cuddle up you him as much as you want. he'll push you off when calm down a bit though, he'll leave with a grumble about how needy you can be.

note though, that he would probably never push you off immediately. it's not that he hates you, he thinks you're disgusting and the worst thing to ever exist.

it's just that he doesn't know how to respond. and I don't blame him.

it takes a while to get used to, get used to being loved and having something to love. but once he does you are SO in for it.

I'm talking flowers from the grocery store, free stolen popsicles, the right to murder anybody and have him help you clean it all up.

because he genuinely loves you, he really does, and when he understands after a couple years of knowing each other how to receiprocate your love, it suddenly all become to easy to be human, to be alive, to be happy.

he also does doesn't like you being talked down to. it comes from the depths of his childhood dream of being a hero and protecting people. especially loved ones like he does for Fuyumi and Natsuo. this also transforms into a need to provide for his loved ones, this can take form in helping you put together furniture, helping you with groceries, and talking to you when you're lonely. things you would do with your dad, which he basically is at this point.

on the same boat, he doesn't like you to fight for him. in his mind, it's HIS job to protect you not vice versa. he's seen you cry, talked you through your panic attacks, been there through those nights. you've already fought so much with yourself, you should not be fighting for him.

it's beautiful really. how much this one thing can change Dabi. it's just that you'll have to stick with him through the sarcasm and the insults and the roasts. but in the end.

he loves you. he'll protect you. maybe not Japan as a hero, but this one little thing. this one little perfect thing, he'll die for.

[andreal831]

Lily Salvatore and Misogyny

I did an analysis on Esther a while back and was asked to do the same for Lily by @unabashedmoonlight. Sorry I am just getting around to it. I wanted to rewatch before discussing it in any kind of depth.

The misogyny Esther faces from the fandom is not limited to her, Lily and her heretics are constantly framed in misogynistic ways. She is yet another woman who has suffered immense levels of abuse, but is granted none of the understanding or forgiveness of her male counterparts.

When we first meet Lily, the show does a great job as painting her as the perfect villain. She appears to have almost no redeeming qualities. She is a ripper, she abandoned her own children to an abusive man, she started a new family and never looked back, etc. And this is what the fandom focuses on. They ignore the entire backstory that unfolds in Season 7 and her development. Yet, when the men in the show are critiqued for being monsters, the fandom jumps to explain it away by trauma and half-assed redemption arcs.

Lily is a perfect example of the cycle of abuse, escaping from one (Giuseppe) to find herself with another (Julien).

Lily and Giuseppe

Lily's abuse was even more explicitly stated than Esther's. There's no denying she was verbally, physically, emotionally, and financially abused throughout her marriage. To the point that she was willing to fake her own death and flee.

They even explicitly show that Lily was dependent on Giuseppe. She had to steal money from him to try and run with her own children because she didn't have any means for herself. She wasn't able to work and didn't have access to money.

During the time period they lived, Lily had nearly no resources to escape. She would have been the legal property of her husband. If she had run with her sons, Giuseppe would have had legal rights to throw her in jail. Yet she was willing to risk it to save her children. When Giuseppe found out he made certain that this was not going to be an option.

Lily also had less ability to protect her sons than Esther did since she wasn't a witch. She was not able to stop the abuse no matter how much people wanted her to. She could have stayed with her sons, but it wouldn't have stopped their abuse. She can be criticized as a mother for that, but at the same time, she was worried about her own survival as well. Giuseppe shot his own sons, it's not farfetched to believe she felt afraid for her life from such a man.

Lily and Julien

Shortly after she flees, Lily meets Julien. This is such a pivotal time for survivors. She had not had a chance to recover from the abuse in any means. It is very common for people who have suffered abuse to find themselves in second, third, fourth, etc. abusive relationships. It is a cycle. Abuse makes people feel weak and vulnerable as well as lowers their self-esteem. This can cause the survivors to seek out people who reinforce their low self-image and treat them how they feel they deserve to be treated.

In Lily's case, the only relationship she knew was Giuseppe. So when she meets Julien, and he is not physically abusing her, she truly believes he is better. She misses all of the other signs of abuse. She doesn't realize the manipulation. Julien is the reason Lily doesn't go back for her sons. She sends Oscar and Valerie to check on them and Julien convinces them to tell Lily they moved on from her death. Julien needed to stay in control of every aspect of Lily's life and he manipulated his way into getting that control without Lily even realizing it.

This is obvious by the way she vehemently tells her sons that Julien is nothing like Giuseppe. But as soon as they point out the similarities, she notices it right away and switches sides. This takes an incredible amount of strength to do. Once she realizes that Julien is no longer the man she thought he was, she turns on him. This is something the fandom tends to leave out when talking about Lily.

Her last moments are for her sons and her heretic children.

"I never had the courage to tell you before... I can choose them both."

After her death, Julien says that Lily is the only thing that kept her sane. This language is textbook narcissistic abuser. Making a person feel like every time you mess up it is their fault. They are the only thing that can keep you in line so if they ever leave, it will be their fault for everything you do.

Lily experienced abuse nearly her entire existence, but was finally able to fight back at the very end.

Lily, Stefan, and Damon

Most of the hate Lily gets is because of Damon. Damon's entire redemption plot is essentially tied to his treatment as a child/human life. TVDU likes to redeem characters by not making them seek redemption, but by making the fandom just feel bad for them and making excuses for their behaviors.

Damon and Klaus essentially get the same exact backstory because it is effective and takes minimal effort. Watching a child suffer abuse is an immediate way to garner sympathy because children are innocent. No one deserves to be abused, least of all children.

So painting Lily as a absolute villain allows more sympathy for Damon. But again, if Damon can get sympathy, it's only fair to give Lily sympathy as well. They both suffered abuse at different times. I'd even argue that Lily had better development.

Damon's last words to Lily show just how little Damon was able to grow as a character. He, like Klaus, hung onto his childhood trauma almost as a safety blanket. If he never faced his abuse, he could continue to use it to be angry. He never had to take accountability for anything. This is furthered by Damon at her funeral, acting like a child when his brother clearly needed to grieve. But that's another discussion.

Damon's development was tied to the women in his life, whereas Lily's was tied to her overcoming her abuse.

Lily and her Heretics

I also don't necessarily blame Lily for finding her family. TVDU is full of found families, even from characters that have living families. Yes, it hurt her sons to see her being more of a mother to other people, but should she have been alone the rest of her life?

Lily loved her heretics and even chose them over Julien. She wanted the best for them and even was willing to compromise with them to make them happy. This to me shows that she was a good person, but circumstances pushed her to do terrible things. Much like every man in the show.

The Misogyny of it all

Every character in the show has done bad things for various reasons. But the men get excuses and forgiveness, while the women get blame. I hate how often the show abuses women just so a man can have some kind of character development without doing anything.

Lily is a complex character. She is not all good or all bad. No one is. She wasn't evil for how she behaved, rather she was someone suffering abuse and responding to it.

I'm not saying Lily is perfect or that she deserved forgiveness from her sons. She still did so much that can be criticized. But we also can't ignore the abuse she suffered. She was a complex character who yes made terrible decisions, but ultimately was she worse than some of the fandom favorites? She did everything to fight for her and her family's survival like Elijah. She abandoned her children because of her own trauma just like Klaus did. She was a ripper like Stefan. Why are the women, who are victims of abuse, treated like the abusers rather than their fellow survivors?

[entamewitchlulu]

I’m curious about your headcanons on joshneku

If have you any?

Oh for sure!!!

-> I don't think they officially get together until 1-2 years after the events of NEO (which I still haven't played I'M SORRY EVERYONE T-T), mostly because Joshua continues to be a little gremlin who disappears at the barest hint of vulnerability, so it takes Neku a bit to actually manage to land him

-> Joshua truly has no intention of actually pursuing Neku at first. He just watches longingly from a distance, pissing off everyone else around him (mostly Hanekoma). He does secretly do little things to make Neku's life easier, like editing some things here or there to make him able to get an apartment easier, help him find a job easier, etc. Neku is very aware that Joshua is doing this and it's annoying.

-> Neku initiates the relationship. He gets Hanekoma to help him corner Joshua and essentially strongarm him into spending time with him and the rest of the gang. He then manages to kiss Joshua at Udagawa, which makes Joshua bluescreen and he avoids Neku for like two weeks until Neku manages to break into the Dead God's Pad to corner him again and make them have the "what are we" talk

-> Neku is definitely the more emotionally intelligent of the two of time. Joshua thinks he can get away with flustering Neku by being embarrassing and flirty, but when Neku responds with genuine love and care Joshua shuts down. Even late into their relationship Joshua can suddenly get taken off guard by a simple act of affection, but he's getting better at it

-> At the beginning of their relationship, Neku is more casually touchy-feely. Joshua always has to have a whole Scheme around intimate touch but then Neku just slings an arm over his shoulder or casually leans against him or pulls him into his arms while they're in bed and Joshua whites out. Once Joshua starts to get socialized like a feral cat settles into the relationship, he gets a bit needier and seeks cuddles a lot more often. Neku sometimes pretends to be exasperated but he loves cuddling just as much.

-> I must reiterate this. They are SO touchy-feely. Once they both settle into their relationship they're almost always in each other's space, even in public. Joshua can and will sit in Neku's lap any time he gets the chance. Shiki thinks it's really funny and cute. Beat is SO embarrassed. ("would you two get a FUCKING room")

-> One thing they both struggle with is communicating, as Neku still tends to close off when he's upset, and Joshua will make a joke out of literally anything rather than be vulnerable. Hanekoma often ends up being their impromptu relationship counselor because both of them will come and complain about the other to him separately, and Hanekoma will give them both advice that eventually gets them to talk more straight with each other. Hanekoma has accepted this as his penance (and also he genuinely cares about both of them and wants to help them out).

-> Neku does a lot of drawing but he has one special sketchbook full just of drawings he's done of Joshua when Joshua wasn't paying attention. He tries to keep this a secret from Joshua but Joshua absolutely knows. He desperately wants to tease Neku about it but he's also genuinely touched and even a little embarrassed by the deep love that's clear in Neku's drawings so he keeps his knowledge to himself.

-> This isn't JoshNeku specific but i think when Joshua finally actually joins the gang his best friend in the group ends up being Rhyme, which surprises everyone. Rhyme is very easygoing and finds Joshua funny. She builds well off of his roasts and he's surprised at her willingness to go along with his shenanigans. He lets her paint his nails sometimes.

-> Sharing music is one of Neku's biggest love languages and he buys a pair of earbuds specifically so that he and Joshua can both wear one to listen to music together.

-> their most common date is going for ramen and then wandering Shibuya to people watch and check out new street art. their second most common date is a movie in (which usually just turns into a nap tbh).

and under the cut are just a couple spicier headcanons

-> Joshua is such a fucking bottom. He is a bratty sub who loves when Neku takes control of him.

-> Neku is a bit more uncertain, but does find he enjoys how excited Joshua gets when he's dominated, and starts to find it enjoyable too.

-> they definitely dabble in some BDSM

[mysticheathenn]

What Career Path Best Suits You?

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is for my Patreon Cosmic Stargazers and above. This pick-a-card reading is all about what career path best suits you and what will happen if you follow it.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

Extended Patreon Includes:

What Career Path Best Suits You?

What will happen if you follow the best-suited path?

Extra Messages (Careers that could be of interest)

MasterList

Patreon Link

Ko-Fi Donations

Pile 1:

What Career Path Are You Used To? Tarot: 10 of Swords, 8 of Swords, Strength, The Hermit, King of Pentacles

Pile l you may be used to careers where you feel are a dead end. Some of you could be the type to job hop a lot where whenever you feel you either get bored or you are feeling as if you are not growing or feel appreciated you tend to leave and move onto what you hope is better pastures but end up being something similar to your last job in environment, management, or even the position. It's like an endless cycle you keep repeating that you can't seem to jump off. You may also be the the type of employee where everything is piled on your plate because upper management knows that if they pass things to you things will get done and more. You are most likely that go above and beyond employees, if not beyond you may do a little extra on tasks if you have the time or feel creative to add extra stuff to something. I'm hearing you're the strongest soldier fighting all the battles. You may not complain much about these things because even though your pay isn't the greatest of what it should or can be, it does help provide you with the things you need (shelter, food, etc) and sometimes want (new clothes, trips, etc) Patreon Post Link

Pile ll:

What Career Path Are You Used To? Tarot: 10 of Wands, Death, Queen of Cups, 6 of Wands, Queen of Swords

Unappreciated by Cherish played in my head for your pile. You are used to careers/jobs where you are constantly feeling unappreciated, undermined, emotionally and mentally drained. I hear some people may even take credit for some of the work that you do at work. Overall I feel that your work environment loves to make you the leader of everything without giving you leader money. Example: Before I moved up in management and I was a front desk agent, my colleagues would always come to me as if I was the manager and not the manager themselves because management was either choosing not to be available, not helping, or knowing management doesn't know what they are talking about. Even though I wasn't getting management pay everyone including managers were coming to me for guidance but not giving credit to where it's due. This maybe your current position pile ll or at least environments where you have worked in. Not exactly the same example but examples similar to it. You are also probably used to repetitive jobs where nothing but situations change but everything stays the same so maybe retail, being a waiter, working at a call center, being an assistant, etc. Patreon Post Link

Pile lll:

What Career Path Are You Used To? Tarot: The Moon, 7 of Swords, 4 of Cups (reversed), Knight of Swords (reversed), 5 of Swords (reversed)

Pile lll you may be used to environments that are toxic all around you. Every time you turn around someone is being sneaky, conniving, secretive, moving behind the scenes to either level themselves up, make themselves look good, or plot against other people. You may deal with people who think they are your manager when in fact they are either in the same position as you or a level below you. You may also deal with businesses or corporations who like to cut corners and don't do things the right way. They trick and scam people out of more money or the same money but less quality in items/food. Example: I used to work at a subway where back in the day when the month of February was always $5 deal month our owner would tell us to not give everyone the full amount of meant so he could pinch on supplies. so if you bought a turkey sub instead of getting 8 slices you receive 6 and we had to spread them out to make the sub look full. Overall I am feeling the environment you are used to working is an every person for themselves environment. The "We're a family/team" kind of environment. This is very specific but some of you may even work for Chick-fil-A or corporations similar where they believe in doing things the "traditional" way or even fire people for one small mistake like not saying my pleasure to customers. You may work in fast food, retail, restaurants, warehouses like Amazon, Corporate, bank jobs, etc overall I am getting minimum wage or slightly above the jobs you may be used to. Patreon Post Link

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

[qxuiara]

Information about the Playtime.Co Sentience Au

[🧸] PLAYTIME.CO SENTIENCE AU

[❓] What's it about?

Playtime.Co Sentience is an alternate universe where instead of live, human subjects used for the Bigger Bodies Initiative, Harley Sawyer suggested the use of robots who were programmed with sentience. This means that the orphans who had taken part of the experiments were never turned into living toys, this also means that the Hour of Joy never happened either. Basically all the bad things that happened in Playtime.Co *never* happened in this alternate timeline. The Orphanage and Factory have been working alongside each other in harmony. While yes, it still takes place in 1995 and it's quite odd that the sentience of these robots would be too modern, while I am still thinking of an explanation, I can always default to 'logic'. It's better than having actual children piloting the suits really.

[❓] What roles do the toys have?

The toys retain their original roles in the Bigger Bodies Initiative project, aside from Boxy-Boo who's role is still related, but changed to be less gruesome. There are also toys who were not given a proper role in BBI and were given ones here.

[❓] How would they operate with humans?

They operate like Co-Workers, with the toys being extra needed help that primarily take care of Playtime.Co, with the humans tending to be secondary help as the toys are more efficient than they thought. The two parties don't seem to mind each other and respect one another as they fulfill their roles together.

[❓] Could you give me a brief summary of the toys?

Sure! But I'll only be doing the ones who serve relevance in the au.

Poppy - Assistant to the entirety of the Playtime.Co. Responsible for providing help around Playtime.Co and doing daily check-ups around the many facilities. She also takes note of her fellow Co-Workers, seeing which employee or toy needs to be taken to the Medical Bay to be tended to.

Doctor (The Prototype) - Head Doctor, Inventor, and Advisor. Responsible for aiding employees and toys with their injuries, illnesses, etc. in Playtime.Co. They like to tamper with little trinkets they find and helps in concept making for new toy lines-- occasionally fixes toys that orphans have broken in the Orphanage. It also provides needed advice for those who come to them if ever so needed, they're more than willing to have a little pep-talk with you.

Huggy Wuggy - Security Guard for Playtime.Co alongside Kissy Missy. His job is to patrol the entirety of the place and seek out unwanted people who have snuck their way into the factory. They also lead employees to their assigned stations or escort them out if they weren't supposed to be there.

Kissy Missy - Security Guard for Playtime.Co alongside Huggy Wuggy. Her job is to make sure all that enter the Factory are authorized individuals, visitors who wish to adopt an orphan, and other orphans who have been newly taken to the Orphanage. She gets rid of any threatening individuals who try to break into the facilities. Usually seen juggling their stations at the security lead of the Factory or the front desk at the Orphanage.

Mommy Long Legs - Host and Guide for the Game Station. She makes sure the orphans are engaging and behaving while they're doing their activities in the Game Station, serving as an encouraging figure to hype up the children and make them feel confident as they play the games.

Boxy-Boo - Employee Trainer and Defect Inspector of the entirety of Playtime.Co. He works relatively close to Poppy, but rather than being an assistant, he's the one responsible for training the employees and other toys that happened to be assigned to factory duty. They are also responsible for checking for defects in a toy or the machinery used for the factory. VERY BUSY, only talk to them if urgent or necessary, he doesn't like being bothered while he's doing his job.

Dogday - A Caretaker for the Orphanage and the Leader of the Smiling Critters. He serves as a confident, mentor-like figure towards the orphans, encouraging them to stay physically fit and exercise. He's the one planning the activities inside of Playcare, and teaches everyone the importance of getting along together and have a great time while you're with him.

Catnap - The Main Caretaker for the Orphanage, partial Security. He serves as the observer and peacekeeper of Playcare, making sure that the orphans are behaving and are kept in line while performing activities. He also teaches them how to behave and discipline them if needed. Though at night, his primary role is to make sure all orphans are comfortably tucked in their beds inside Home Sweet Home, patrolling the Orphanage for any mischievous orphans or unwanted visitors at such hours.

Hoppy Hopscotch - A Caretaker for the Orphanage. She serves as a Sporty Idol for the orphans and motivates them to play sports. She highly encourages competitive nature, but makes sure that everything is all in good sport. She loves teaching them tips n' tricks and strategies on how to win games. She'll always be your Number 1 Supporter through and through, no matter what happens.

KickinChicken - A Caretaker for the Orphanage. He serves as everyone's friend and guide in Playcare and instructs them on health and safety regulations from time to time. While he loves it when the orphans want to apply the chill lifestyle, it's also important to learn the DO's and DON'T's while you're at it. During activities, he demonstrates what to do and not to do while occupied with what ever activity the children will be doing, sometimes even going as far to do stunts and come out okay in the end. He doesn't seem to mind it, as long as the orphans are learning something new. If you need someone to hang out with, he's always free.

CraftyCorn - A Caretaker for the Orphanage. She serves as the artistic inspiration that the kids need to crank up their creativity. She's very passionate about art and the beauty around the world. She highly encourages the orphans to pursue in their dreams of becoming artists and even offers advice on how they could improve their techniques.

Bobby Bearhug - A Caretaker for the Orphanage. She serves as a Therapeutic and even Motherly figure towards the orphans, willing to listen to their problems and give them advice on how to mend them, as well as teach them on how to solve them on their own in the near future. She adores it when the children come to visit her and tell her about her how their day went during their time at Playcare.

Picky Piggy - A Caretaker for the Orphanage and Chef. She serves, quite literally, food to the orphans. At mealtime, she's always psyched about hearing what the children are looking forward to in their day and even dabble into some of their conversations from time to time. She takes notes of what meal suggestions the orphans want next, as long as they're healthy of course-- I suppose a few cheat meals won't hurt anyone.

Bubba Bubbaphant - A Caretaker for the Orphanage and Teacher. He serves as the 'complex' teacher for Playcare's School, teaching children more complex school topics in the school; Mathematics, Science, History, etc. While he knows his subjects are hard to grasp, he does teach them well and even encourage them on their homework. He's very passionate about his work, and some day, the kids will thank him for them.

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c22. Tarantella.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, mentions of mafia-type organisations.

song to listen to when reading this: Napule è, Pino Daniele.

abstract: This is Jude. are you not excited to see if I died? go on and read to see what happened, not my proudest moment, but still. you get a little glimpse of me as a baby, how joyous… I bet you didn't expect last chapter uh? Hell of a journey, hopefully we're almost done with the suffering! enjoy.

She always took the same route, met the same people in the same spots. She usually got dropped off in the 'Spanish Neighbourhood'. They weren't so turistic back then. She remembers them vividly. She remembers the smell of food, the smell of fried, oily food. The voices. The blue sky, the sun was always shining on her. She remembers the markets, the noise of people screaming, the graffiti, pairs of shoes thrown over the power lines. They used them to signal a member of a family was in prison, or that in the building lived someone who dealt drugs. It was common knowledge, the police knew. Where she's from, it is said the Camorra has a special seat at the dinner table. It's history, it's culture. It's in the economy, it's inside politics, it's in the institutions. Those who should protect us are corrupt, or too afraid to go against it. It's in the police, in the bourgeoisie. In the Church.

The Camorra is a mafia-type criminal organisation, one the oldest criminal organisation in the south of Italy. Naples based. The Camorra's organisational structure is divided into individual groups called "clans". Every capo or "boss" is the head of a clan, with hundreds of affiliates, depending on the clan's power and structure. It's really bad represented in movies, it's actually pretty morbid. All it takes is a glance, all it takes to get what you want is the fact that you're part of a clan. I am talking contracts, certificates, loans, money and permissions. Everyone is scared over there. Everyone lives in fear and in denial, everyone accepts it because, trust me, it's better this way. People get melted in acid, you know. And if anyone asks, no there is no criminality here! No Camorra here. They usually deal drugs, they do money laundering. Every now and then if two clans get in a fight, which can last for decades, people will die. Children die all of time. If you're born inside a family that's part of a clan, you've basically sold your soul to criminality. Boys especially tend to be extremely proud of their origins, they have fun playing with guns and power, they die young but with fame. Baby boss, that's what they're called. Being dangerous and feared is the real accomplishment. It's what girls seek in a man, the fame, the possessiveness and violent jealousy.

Her story was a little different. Her mother was the dealer in the family along with her uncle, her dad was already in prison when she was born. Even when she was in her momma's belly, she would hear her uncle's voice, talking to her mom. The things he would say. All the sex they had, she was born with a migraine. Her older brother Edoardo died in a shooting. She knows who killed him, she debated killing him for a long time. Her little sister, Maria Adele, was the first in many generations to do something else with her career, which meant being a normal child who went to school and liked drawing. She on the other hand, helped mom with the family business. No one would ever suspect a little girl with a pink backpack to sell heroin around Naples. They realised she was perfect for the job when she was caught playing with some bullets on the kitchen floor as a toddler. Her uncle did her homework after school, so she could work. The only thing she did other than that was ballet class, to have an alibi. She met other kids or adults in specific places to sell the same amounts of heroin and get paid. Sometimes, the grown ups would touch her hair and call her beautiful. '*F'o cess, e damm i soldi',* she would respond. It means 'shut your mouth and give me the money'. She learned all her swear words from her uncle.

She had a specific route she followed, she would walk for hours and at the end of the day she would go back to her mom, give her the money and keep a small percentage. Now, we're not talking about a few hundred dollars a day. We're talking good money, money that lasted her a long time, dirty money that paid for her education. That was how her mom was raising her. You get a part of what we make, cause you work. If you work hard, you'll get more. If you disobey, Tarantè… She knew already. There was no escaping. Or so she thought. Truth is, she quite liked that life up until she was 13. Then she really started to understand what being part of a clan meant, and if you're thinking shiny cars, a mansion of a house, parties and sparkly dresses, you're reading the wrong story. I don't know who told you that was what mafia meant, but they're mistaken. She had blood on her hands for the first time when she took revenge for her brother’s death. She was the youngest terrorists Naples had ever seen. Her actions reached the news.

The Camorra is indescribable. It's terrorist attacks to journalists and activists who end up dead on a daily basis, while trying to tell the country how corrupted the south is. It's killing your family members, is constant fight and constant fear. It's wanting to commit crimes from a young age, cause your brother got killed. Knowing the meaning of rage and revenge too soon. And liking it, liking the power, the control, liking that everyone knows when you're walking by, they should keep their eyes on the ground. But it's also casualties, civilians getting killed by mistake and being able to do absolutely nothing about it. It's not trusting the government and the institutions, it's a parasite that's devouring Italy from the inside out. The Camorra sits at the table with you. There is no justice. No faith.

Arash pressed the red button on her phone and ended the call. 'Get up.' He said. She slowly did as he said, her legs nearly giving out. 'Please…' she murmured and he pressed the gun firmly in the back of her head. 'Shut up!' he screamed, 'How could you?' She realised this was an opportunity. She had to use what she knew about him, she had to use her skills and press his soft spots. If he screamed someone would hear him. He spoke again, still from behind her. 'I should have never brought you that prophecy, I should have known you wouldn't understand'. His voice was filled with sorrow and anger, she could have sworn he was shaking. 'I know, I- ' He cut her off, she didn't feel the gun anymore for a second. He grabbed her arm and turned her around, she suppressed a scream at the sudden gesture. He was waving the gun in the air while speaking, taking a step towards her and caging her between his body and the table. 'Shut up! You know nothing!' She had to make him scream again, 'You betrayed me Jude, you fucking sold me to them!' She tried to look apologetic and focus on his face and not the gun he was frantically shaking in the air. She felt guilty. Not only because she was about to die, but because he was right. 'I didn't know what to do…' she tried, and that only made him more furious. He didn't respond, only shut her up one more time. He grabbed her by the shoulder shoving her away from the desk. 'You did the wrong thing.'

She tried to protest but his grip was firm. He opened the door of the office and peeked in the corridor. He grabbed her arm and hid the gun in his belt. One hand on her arm one around the back of her neck. She twisted her shoulders in pain, feeling his grip tighten, he was pulling her hair and practically dragging her by the neck. She whimpered in pain, he urged her to shut up. They walked in the direction of the main exit, then they started to see people. Soldiers, pilots. She heard him cuss under his breath and she thought about screaming. She should have shouted, she should have called for help. Arash grabbed his gun and forced her to turn around towards the stairs. She felt the gun press on her side before she could say anything. 'Walk' he urged. He wrapped an arm around her to hide the gun between their bodies. Her arms were stiff at her sides. 'I'll tell them to let him go.' She murmured. 'I'll call them and tell them it was a mistake and to let him go.' They climbed the stairs, at this point she didn't know where he was taking her. 'Fucking shut up!' he said again, louder this time. He threw her on the stairs. She felt a sting of pain vibrate over her whole body, she fell face down, her knees on the concrete of the stairs. He quickly grabbed her again, she felt like he could rip her hair from her scalp. They reached the fourth floor, she realised that was where Laswell's office was. He's gonna kill us both.

He was speaking Farsi by that point, he was reciting what sounded like a prayer. He pushed her in from of Kate's office, knocking on the door. No one answered. When he knocked again she realised he was getting mad, looking around nervously to see if anyone was coming, sweat forming on his forehead. He suddenly cursed out loud and took a step back. He shot the lock to open the door, she screamed at the noise, someone fucking hear me please. He pushed her inside so hard she fell. She felt pathetic. She had to fight. She quickly rose to her feet and took cover behind Laswell's desk. The room was dark, the blinds closed. She looked at him like a deer in headlights from behind the desk, looking for something, anything. Concealed weapon, a fucking paper clip. She felt Arash's shadow on her from the other side of the desk, which made her take a few steps back. I need more time. 'How did you know it was me?' she asked. Her throat was dry, her hand slightly shaking. Make him pity you. 'I heard you on radio.' He answered. Simon..? 'You're the reason my people died.' She squinted her eyes and shook her head. 'War is the reason your people died.'

'NO!' He raised the gun, holding it with both hands. He was shaking too. She raised her arms in the air, 'It's because you told them, you stupid cunt!' He took a step towards her, she closed her eyes with a whimper of fear. 'You told them, you betrayed me! They would't have found us Jude!' She felt sorrow and regret in his voice, he must have been hurt. She had hurt him, it wasn't just rage and violence, it was because he believed his secret would be safe with her. The gun was close enough to be pressed to her forehead. Just one more step ahead. 'You did this, you deserve to fucking die now…'

She ducked down under the desk when the door flew open and Arash got distracted for a split second. People stepped in and two shots were fired. One landed inside Arash's thigh. One made the window next to her shatter to pieces. The second bullet was aimed exactly at where she had been standing.

notes: I got emotional reading this back!!!

I always get a little tense when I see people writing about mafia bosses and what not, cause they romanticise something that is very real and fucking dangerous in Italy. of course, this is a free space and you can write what you want, I am a true believer in the concept of don't like it, don't read it. but, if you want to know, I will give you what mafia really is in Italy. you can do with this what you want. it's culture, it's new knowledge.

notes: Tarantella is my favourite nickname ever, Tarantè for short. Tarantella is a common group dance in southern Italy, in which women dance with their hair down, some bacchanal thing. The music gets faster and faster. So Tarantella is a nickname for someone who gets mad easily and likes to fight, typical for girls that are not shy and quiet. Also, tarantola, which is the origin of the word means tarantula, the spider. isn't it perfect for Alba, I'm in love.

taglist:

@ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

[erraticopeninghours]

Crowley and Beelzebub Talk

Thoughts on 1.13: Crowley and Beelzebub talk

I feel so badly for Crowley that his “precious, peaceful, fragile existence” cannot be.  It’s interesting to contrast Heaven and Hell’s approaches to Aziraphale and Crowley, both as workers and later as retired/traitors.

Heaven treats Aziraphale’s bookshop with the same apathy that they do other earthly possessions (and beings.)  First, in the 1800 deleted scene, they almost take it away from Aziraphale, and even when they decide not to, it is never treated as an important matter.  Second, though Shadwell definitely plays a role in it, the bookshop fire would have been preventable if not for Heaven / Metatron insisting on leaving the portal open.  Following the fire, the bookshop is returned to Aziraphale (this time by Adam / earthly intervention), and what Aziraphale temporarily lost is never addressed as important.  

Both of these incidents dovetail nicely with Heaven’s approach of killing Job’s three children, then expecting gratitude after they “make it better” by giving him seven new children.  Heaven is careless with what Aziraphale values most and dismisses the importance that he chooses to place on things and people, but generally does not seek to destroy things for the purpose of tormenting Aziraphale.  Instead, they’re cruel through callousness. 

On the other hand, we see Hell actively work to violate Crowley’s boundaries and intentionally (mis)use his possessions to hurt him.  In Season 1, there’s the orders from Satan; Hastur and Ligur’s invasion of his flat; and Hastur’s appearance in the Bentley and removal of Crowley’s sunglasses.  In Season 2, we learn that Hell has continued this pattern into Crowley’s “retirement.”  Despite Crowley being “persona non grata,” Hell repossesses his flat, and Beelzebub begins their conversation by appearing in the Bentley.  

For me, just the presence of another demon in the Bentley was very unsettling and felt much more dangerous than Crowley’s earlier talks with Shax in the park and on the street.  I also feel like it was a definite power play by Beelzebub – them making a point – given that they clearly have the ability to “call” Crowley to Hell.  The fly that flew inside of Crowley’s mouth also felt like an invasion, especially since one of Crowley’s main strategies for staying safe is through quick-talking. 

Lastly, there were several phrases that Beelzebub used which I really enjoyed. 

(1) “What if I said Hell was willing to forget everything you did, that we were willing to accept you back, no questions asked with a hefty promotion?” is fantastic! Partly because it demonstrates Hell/demons’ knowledge that having past misbehavior “forgotten” is generally worth more than any token “forgiveness.”  It also completely avoids the word “forgiveness,” while clearly offering more absolution than Heaven tends to offer (at least to demons. Consider: “Unforgivable, that’s what I am.”)  And thirdly, this is what Metatron offers Aziraphale at the end of the season, except that Aziraphale - for whatever reason(s) - accepts the offer!  

(2) “[Y]ou find Gabriel for me and you can have whatever your nasty little heart desires” is also a great line because during my first watch, my instinctive reaction was that Beelzebub can no longer offer Crowley anything that he really wants.  His heart only desires a certain angel and perhaps select Earthly pleasures.  On rewatch, however, the line was even better because while Beelzebub can’t give Crowley whatever his nasty little heart desires, Crowley theoretically could have given Beelzebub whatever their nasty little heart desires - Gabriel! 

(3) “So, if you hear anything, come to me first, yeah?” is a fun line because we know that Crowley will not come to Beelzebub first.  Even though Crowley has just argued with Aziraphale over helping Jim/Gabriel and stormed out of the bookshop, we as the audience have no doubt that Crowley will go to Aziraphale first with any important information. (At least, until he doesn’t…)  Despite the accompanying frustration, Crowley is committed to their side, and that commitment is obvious to both the audience and to Crowley himself.

(previous) (next)

[quintenrosenburgwrites]

mirren sketches >:)

lyrics are from Mixed Messages and Red Flags btw

OH ALSO i wrote some dialogue stuff, see under the read more! warning for some humor that's way more nsfw than i'd usually post (i mean. come on. it's dialtown. they're awkward as hell. they're obviously gonna say something questionable /lh) also some more serious stuff (self hate issues, depression, anxiety)

Nice/Fun stuff:

- They say pretty much everything that comes to mind, and once they get a train of thought it doesn't take long for it to derail and crash through a small community, leaving a trail of destruction behind it. TLDR they're really rambly.

"Birthdays are kinda weird. Like obviously there's the whole counting down to your death thing, but also, like. You're basically celebrating the anniversary of you getting evicted from your mom's, uh. You know. Okay that sounded REALLY, extremely, UNCOMFORTABLY Freudian. Can we PLEASE pretend I never said that? Thanks. Oh, right, the murder case."

- They have a tendency to just accept things and move on without commenting further.

"Oh. You lay eggs. Anyways, can you help me break into the ticket booth? I need to check the entry records."

- They're a fucking dork /pos (They're really sweet, but in a convoluted way)

"I, uh, please don't think this is weird, but I made characters for both of us! This one's named May, and they're kinda a failure. They failed their parents, they failed their old best friend, they failed their job. They used to think they had no redeeming qualities. Then, one day, they meet the other character, Ginger. Ginger seems terrifying initially, and even if it isn't obvious at first, they're not actually human. Ginger and May go on a journey in which May tries to learn magic in order to protect people and redeem themself for their past actions, even though they despise the idea of learning magic, but, eventually... Ginger helps them see their own value, helps May see that they're a person too. They are allowed to be selfish sometimes, they're just as worthy of happiness as anyone else. And, uh, maybe... Maybe that saved their life a bit. And maybe, May is allowed to do things for themself sometimes. Ginger means a whole lot to May, even if they have trouble expressing it, and... uh, I guess that's everything. Um. What do you think?"

Serious, bad stuff:

- They see very little value in themself, and tend to expect others to insult or make fun of them. To combat this, they typically are quick to insult themself, in an attempt to get there before anybody else can. It hurts less if they're the one saying it.

"And before you say it! I know it's super annoying when people are constantly insulting themselves, cause like it comes off as compliment seeking, right? I promise that's not what I'm trying to do, I'm just kinda trying to warn you I guess? But, uh, that's still no excuse, and I can totally just shut up if you want! Or, wait, I shouldn't have assumed it's annoying you, I could just be restating what you're thinking? I mean, the things I'm saying about myself aren't exactly incorrect- Just, let me know if I'm being annoying. I'd rather shut up than annoy you, haha. ha. Wow, that sounded fake."

- They tend to blame everything on themself, and act very self destructively.

"Oh god, this is all my fucking fault, I'm so sorry. It's okay if you hate me- or, no, you SHOULD hate me! Fuck, I'm- Why did you even talk to me in the first place?! Do you realize- If you just- You would've been better off if you just walked past me and ignored me! I need to- This is for your wellbeing, being around me is only gonna make things worse for you. I'll be fine, just- Don't follow me. I mean, I don't know why you would in the first place."

- They put everyone else before themself.

"I need to make it up to them, even if I ruin my life in the process. It's not like my life was looking particularly bright in the first place, which is entirely my own fault, so, y'know. Yeah."

[reveryfm]

spotted in the streets of brooklyn, it’s JASPAR PERRY. they have lived in the city for TWENTY YEARS, working as an the OWNER OF THE CORNER PUB. the 39 year old will probably be seen around WILLIAMSBURG a lot, seeing as that’s where they live. people say they can be a bit RESERVED and DEFENSIVE, but friends know them to be LAID-BACK and LOYAL. you know for sure you’ve found them when you’ve come across DARK COLOURED HENLEYS, MOTOR OIL STAINS AND CHAPPED LIPS. welcome to brooklyn, it’s been waiting for you!

Basics

Full Name: Jaspar Perry Nickname(s): Call him what you want, but the most popular is "Jaz" Age: 39 Date of Birth: 19th November Zodiac: Scorpio Orientation: Unlabeled Occupation: Owns The Corner Pub, Park Slope Height: 6”

Personality

Jaspar is not the most social of people. He doesn't go out of his way to talk to anyone, nor does he really seek out new connections - those who do manage to befriend him are few and far between, most days. He can get annoyed very quickly if people prod into what he deems his personal business too much or too quickly, and he doesn't really like having his personal space invaded. He prefers to keep himself to himself, minding his own business as much as possible.

However, the exception to that rule is when he sees people in distress - he just cannot ignore them. A lost kid, someone crying, someone hurt, he can't walk past a person so clearly in need, even if it goes against his better judgement or has the potential to be dangerous. As well as this, as long as Jaspar and his life is not the topic of conversation, he's fairly easy to talk to especially if you're drunk at his bar. Once a person has wormed their way past the cracks in his walls, he is not likely to forget them, and he is pretty staunch with his loyalty to people he likes.

Family

Mother: Nicola Perry (née Mitchell) - 62 Father: William Perry - 63 Jaspar's parents were high school sweethearts, the cheesy kind of couple everyone cringes at in the hallways. They stuck together throughout college and married after they graduated, moving in together. Both coming from a traditional family, naturally, the next step was having children... though young and in their early twenties, neither of them were sure if they were ready for such a thing. However, the pressure from their families led to them having Jaspar. While not necessarily unwanted, he was very much the "experimental child" while they figured out the whole parenting thing. They made a lot of mistakes, albeit not maliciously, as they tried to do their best. By the time his first sibling came along, they had grasped the basic do's and don'ts, and had two more children aside from Jaspar. He was used by his parents as an example of what not to do. Even so, they do not love him any less, even if their relationship in his adulthood is rocky at times.

Sibling(s): Two younger siblings - 32-35 Despite his gruffness, Jaspar is a loving older brother and he does his best to support the two youngest in their endeavors. He's protective over them in the way big brothers tend to be... though he doesn't pry into their personal business, unless they tell him of their own accord.

Extra

He moved away from Brooklyn when he finished high school to go to college in Rhode Island. He lasted a year before dropping out, deciding further education just wasn't for him and moving back in with his parents.

His dad took him on as an apprentice at his mechanic garage instead, which he wasn't thrilled about at first, but he soon discovered he had quite a liking for it. He excelled at the job, but it wasn't something he wanted to do for a living - his joy of it felt more like a hobby. He saved up some money and eventually bought The Corner Pub. Together, he and his dad fixed the place up to his liking and he's been running it for eight years now.

He still helps his dad out in the garage sometimes, whether he asks for it or not. He owns a motorcycle and he won't take it anywhere else to get serviced or fixed - it's his baby.

In his words he "doesn't give a shit" about labelling his sexuality - he likes who he likes and that's enough for him.

[the-lincyclopedia]

A mark of privilege that I don't hear people talking about much is being, like, institutionally trusted. This goes along with a lot of axes of privilege/oppression--white people tend to be more institutionally trusted than people of color, men more so than women, etc.--but I think it's worth addressing as not just a manifestation of racism, or a manifestation of sexism, or a manifestation of some other form of prejudice.

I'll define what I mean by "institutionally trusted." I mean doctors believe you about your symptoms and don't assume you're seeking out drugs. I mean your boss believes that you're doing your job and doesn't micromanage you. I mean you aren't stopped for "random" extra screenings every time you pass through an airport.

Now, obviously anyone can be institutionally trusted, and anyone can be institutionally distrusted. Anyone who works can have a micromanaging boss. Anyone who sees a doctor can have the bad luck to wind up with a doctor who's a jerk. This isn't something that one group of people experiences 100% of the time and that another group of people never experiences at all. Few things are that binary, in my opinion.

But I do think that in general, on average, privilege puts people in places where they're more institutionally trusted, and belonging to a marginalized group (or several) reduces the amount of institutional trust you receive (again, in general and on average).

And I think it's worth talking about as one thing that happens across types of oppression and across settings and situations. I think a large part of why it's worth talking about is that being regularly treated as untrustworthy can really mess with your head and your sense of self and confidence in your own perception of reality.

I think about this a lot in relation to my experience in high school.

Now, I'm quite privileged in some ways, and the ways in which I'm not were less apparent when I was younger (i.e. before I realized I'm queer and got my autism diagnosis, etc). I'm white, I can pass for cishet, I'm mostly able-bodied, and my parents have money.

But I went to an underfunded inner-city public high school that was about 70% students of color, and although I certainly was treated differently and more favorably from my peers of color in a variety of ways, the policies of the school as a whole were very punitive and treated the student body in its entirety as probably being up to no good.

There were no mirrors in any of the bathrooms, and the story was that students had smashed mirrors to make shanks, hence the mirrors being removed (though I'm guessing it was probably actually just a matter of not being able to keep the mirrors clean). There were, similarly, no paper towels; the story there was that students had been lighting them on fire (this feels more believable to me).

I can't imagine having an open campus lunch policy--the only two places we were allowed to eat lunch were the cafeteria and the music hallway. We were most certainly not allowed to leave or return during the day. I genuinely can't wrap my head around what it would have been like to be trusted to go off-campus midday. We didn't even have plastic knives in the cafeteria.

And again, I was a white, cishet-passing student from a family with money. I was absolutely treated better by the school than many of my peers were. And I still felt thoroughly distrusted, pretty much constantly. And me being me, I concluded that this must be because I really wasn't trustworthy. It took five or six years after finishing high school to start believing that actually, I could be trusted after all.

Obviously there are people in the world who will game systems and take advantage of loopholes, and there are also situations where people need supervision, not necessarily because they mean to do anything bad but just because a situation is dangerous or they're inexperienced/impulsive/etc. So I'm not saying we should trust everyone at all times without any checks or balances.

I don't have a perfect solution, but I do know that "assume people of color and other marginalized folks are lying in most situations, because better safe than sorry" is definitely NOT it.

[mxanigel]

I'm starting to feel like I need to create a slide deck to explain Shion's sexuality and perspective on sex 😅

She can enjoy sex but doesn't desire it? At least, she doesn't feel like she desires sex the way others seem to. She craves intimacy with someone she loves, and that kind of physical closeness tends to overlap with the other person wanting sex. Because sex is supposed to happen when you're in love, right?

[more OC rambles that ended up extending beyond aspec things below the cut]

Before the OT3, Shion had two relationships: Zane Armbrust and Rena Hoffmann. Zane was her partner during their cadet days when they were both in their late teens, and in hindsight her feelings were more platonic than romantic (which contributed to them breaking up around graduation). Being with Zane helped Shion begin healing from the long-term emotional abuse inflicted by her mother, but between that and her parents' unhealthy relationship as her main example, she made many mistakes, including sleeping with him because he wanted it, because the act was expected. (To be fair, Zane was also figuring himself out; a few years later he meets a man who he ends up marrying.)

Thanks to that growth, the version of Shion who meets Rena is in a much better place to have a relationship. And Shion falls head over heels for her. I don't think Rena was aspec, instead a deeply empathetic person who worked hard to identify and meet her lover's wants and needs while communicating her own. Often with teasing involved. Sure, they had their stumbles along the way as they figured out who they were together. But through that safety and acceptance, Shion first found pleasure in sex with Rena, later even initiating it on rare occasions. Despite their crapsack world, they were happy for years. And then Shiganshina was attacked, taking Rena's life alongside so many others.

(Why did Rena have to become such a wonderful character?? I once again must apologize to an OC for putting them through so much anguish.)

Shion throws herself into the Survey Corps in the wake of Rena's death, alternating between Expeditions and helping train new recruits, never rising to a captain rank due to occasional reckless behavior. Her luck runs out when she breaks both legs fighting a Titan, leading to months of recovery and then post-recovery physical therapy and training to rejoin the Survey Corps. She should have given up, retired, changed jobs, but if she wasn't a soldier fighting Titans, what would she have left?

It's this version of Shion who joins Squad Jonas, and her time with them slowly helps her realize how much the past few years have rocked her to the core. How far she's strayed from Rena's desire for her to seek joy. In trying to recover that better version of herself, Shion changes to the point that she catches Hange's attention, and soon after that is when Cut to the Feeling begins.

Given all this, Shion is utterly unprepared to fall in love again, let alone with someone like Levi. Yet she won't suppress those feelings because they were unexpected. In fact, she finds joy in loving Levi (and Hange, albeit under the assumption that her feelings are purely platonic there).

It's the physical aspects of that love which Shion struggles with. Unlike Rena, Levi isn't one to talk about such things. He's direct, blunt, and forward. And Shion will prioritize his needs and wants over her own. Which leads to tension between them once Hange turns their pair into a triad.

Because, subconsciously, Shion prefers physical intimacy with an AFAB partner. She's never had two people juxtaposed to be able to figure that out. But Levi notices, quickly, and later confronts her about it in his characteristically brusque fashion (because he doesn't know she hasn't realized this herself). It isn't an easy conversation. Yet the three of them insist on honesty with each other above all else, and because they work to maintain this foundation of trust, they can have these conversations. Which leads to a three-way relationship where each person can freely express wants and meet needs because they love each other, whether those needs are for sex or for the absence of it.

(If you got this far, thanks for reading. <3 If you and/or any of your characters are also aspec, I hope some of this resonated with you.)

[howtobeapersonwithfibro]

Hi so I don’t know if you really take asks but I would like some assistance here. I am a teenager who was diagnosed with POTS a little under a year ago and I’m starting to think I may need a mobility aid. I have never fainted or actually fallen due to my disorder but some days I get worryingly close and I need to sit down quite often after short periods of time out of my bed.

I have brought up the idea of a cane or something along those lines to assist with balance when needed (I don’t leave the house often and when I do it tends to just be on days when I’m not having those walking issues), but my idea was turned down due to the possibility of my body not being able to build up strength and becoming reliant on the aid (mind you I’m already leaning on walls quite a bit and am terrified of going down the stairs without a death grip being had on the rail).

Any information you’d be willing to give would be helpful, especially around if my pots is at a point where mobility aids wouldn’t be a longtime detriment (obviously all in your opinion. I haven’t been able to talk to my doctor yet)

Greetings!

I'm glad to hear you've gotten a diagnosis so you can at least know why you're feeling so crappy, but I'm also sorry you have to deal with POTS. I know from firsthand experience how much it can interfere with your life, way more than people can see from the outside.

I am 100% on board with you getting a cane, especially since it sounds like you need and would really benefit from one. My POTS is the reason I use mine. It was really shocking at first how much using it reduced my fatigue and dizziness when walking, just by pawning some of the weight off on the cane.

I know how awkward it is to navigate the mobility aid talk with family, friends, and even doctors, especially if a doctor didn't recommend it necessarily. But you know your body best, you can do what's right for you, and ultimately (unless you need financial/practical help from parents to buy one) the choice is all up to you. It is uncomfortable socially at first but the benefit FAR outweighs the drawbacks in my opinion. I think a lot of people on POTS/chronic illness/spoonie tumblr (search those tags for more info!) would agree that mobility aids are a huge help in their lives, and I honestly haven't heard a lot of stories where doctors have been the one to bring it up.

The fear about you getting weaker is kinda bullshit tbh. You're already (probably) getting weaker from POTS; the worse you feel from it the more you have to sit/lie down and rest. If walking feels better because a cane helps, you're actually more likely to walk more.

(also, if you can see a cardiologist, mine have recommended salt either in diet or tablet form, a medicine called midodrine [didn't work for me personally], and a beta blocker [has made a huge difference for me personally. i've found no one else really knows much about dealing with POTS, doctor wise.)

You are doing a great job advocating for yourself and seeking out information, so keep doing that. I believe in you and I hope you feel better soon. Feel free to follow up and let me know if you get a cane how it goes!

<3 Jenna

(other potsies, feel free to add advice in the comments! multiple opinions are better than one!)

[skylarmoon71]

Leonardo (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles/Superman Crossover) - Chapter 4

"See ya Kent!”

You smile, waving at your friend as you head for your apartment. It feels a bit weird to be going back to classes as if nothing had happened. Summer vacation was coming quickly, you needed to find an internship or a summer job. Both for the financial support and the distraction.

Three months.

That’s how long it’s been.

You haven’t seen Leo, or Vincent or even April. Not in person at least. You’ve given up your nightly escapades for the time being. You just needed time to evaluate everything. Come to terms with what has already happened and find a way to move forward.

As you bypass a certain pizza parlor, you grin at the bold letters. You remember a certain incident that was quite hilarious.

“So what’s the deal with you and pizza?”

Meeting at a certain rooftop was routine now. When Leo’s patrol ended with his brothers, he would meet you at the designated spot to go over any new information. You’d come to realize that a few times he’d have a box of pizza with him. So this time around you’d brought your own. You couldn’t forget the way his eyes seem to light up like a child who just got candy.

“Whaf do ya meaf?”

His face was stuffed with the food and you almost belted out a laugh. Leo was usually so stoic and serious. Seeing such a side to him was kind of cute.

“You’re literally obsessed with pizza. That’s all you seem to eat.”

He finished the slice, wiping his mouth.

“I’m not obsessed.” He seemed to be pouting now.

“Mhmm, if you say so big guy.”

You can’t deny that you miss it, talking with him. You’re not surprised that he hasn’t tried to seek you out. You haven’t exactly made an effort to see him either. You’re a bit scared. The stories of vigilantes running around is still the topic of the city, so you know he’s still out there fighting crime. Protecting people. Leo is a good person, he can’t help himself. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t tried to see you. You can only imagine the guilt he still holds.

Clenching your backpack a bit tighter, you lift your head at the skyscrapers. With a wistful look, you adjust the straps.

Maybe you could make a little trip after you dropped your stuff off.

~

“Hope ya aint out sulking.”

Raph tone over the phone was as defiant as usual.

“Could you all stop babysitting me. I can take care of myself.”

“Sure ya can, fearless. Ya better get back quickly or we’re eating all the pizza.”

Leo didn’t get a chance to retort because Raph hung up.

With a long sigh, he just stared at the skies that had begun to change color as the sun lowered. The pink and orange hues were beautiful. It always felt so hard to see from below. The complexity and height of the buildings tended to block the beauty of the more natural views in the city.

The building he was currently standing on held more personal memories.

He wasn’t sure why he still came to the spot. Maybe he hoped that one day you would just be sitting there. Hood lowered, eyes sparkling as you shared different parts of your life. Helped him understand how you grew up and how you dealt with being so different in a world of people that were all pretty much the same. His head lowered, spotting an old pizza box. One you’d actually brought for him. He laughed to himself. He probably should have dumped it into the trash, but he couldn’t bring himself to move it.

The tattered box may very well be the last thing he’d ever have to remind him of you. With a sigh he turned to leave. It was getting late and the last thing he needed was his brothers worrying about him again. He froze when he saw a pair of feet, and when his eyes lifted, he almost thought he imagined it. You were standing there in a pair of sweatpants and a loose jacket. Hands in your pockets, you just gave a sheepish smile.

“Hey Leo.”

An illusion, maybe a memory, that’s what he told himself. He stepped forward, wondering if maybe he’d been missing you so much that he’d projected an image of you. It could be a hallucination. You held out your hand and he reached. The second his large hand slipped into your smaller ones, he realized it was real. Not some figment of his imagination. You squeezed his hand softly and you only got a breath out before he pulled you into his arms. You were a bit startled by the action, but when you felt how desperately he seemed to be holding on, it made sense. You smiled, hands reaching up as you gave his shell a few comforting pats.

“I missed you too, big guy.”

The familiarity of that statement just made him hold on tighter.