#and then they’d have this toxic obsessed dynamic

[theicarusconstellation]

to me irulan looks like a fucking ghostly ice queen. i’m talking long, wavy, pale-white hair that falls down her back in intricate designs and pure white-blue eyes and frozen lashes and a swirling white silk gown that caresses her skin as she glides along in elegance and ethereal beauty that bewitches everyone she passes by in all the wrong ways.

[k-marzolf]

Tell me how I mesmerize you.

*jealousy, possessive behavior, friends with benefits, both Reader and Billy had bad childhoods, kissing, toxic/unhealthy dynamic, references to cutting, fem!reader*

Words: 550.

Summary: Billy sees someone flirt with you.

Tagging: @e-dubbc11 @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

&&&&&

You were very suddenly pushed against a wall in a dark corner of the bar. You could feel excitement tighten in your gut, when you smelled his cologne, and caught sight of his whiskey eyes. Billy’s hand grabbed your jaw, as he forced you to look at him.

God, he looked good in that red sweater of his. It fit him in all the right places. Too beautiful for you, your friends had said. Why had he picked you? They wondered.

At times you wondered the same thing, when you were laying in the dark with him, and you could feel every roll and every pucker on your body.

All you had going for you was your sweet personality, your friends had joked.

But unknown to you, that was what Billy loved about you. That even though life had knocked you down so many times, you hadn’t let it harden you. You loved freely.

And maybe Billy craved it, your love.

“What game are you playing?” He asked darkly, his voice like velvet sliding along the sharpest of blades. His nostrils flared.

You looked at him honestly confused. “What game?”

His fingers dug into your jaw, painfully. “Flirtin’ with that man over there.” He growled. You’d never heard such hate before, directed at a man who had dared to look at you.

“I was just bein’ nice is all.” You said, sweetly. You and Billy were friends with benefits.

“Tell me a secret,” you said, sitting at the fancy bar where Karen had dragged you.

Billy had paused, before sipping his whiskey. “I put on the persona of a playboy because it’s easier than being used for my looks and money.” It had been so easy to tell a nameless stranger, the anonymity made him more honest.

Because he doesn’t want to get hurt, you had thought to yourself.

“Your turn,” he said.

“Do I look like I have secrets, sir?” You batted your eyelashes at him.

He gave you a dry look.

You sighed, toying with a lock of your hair, silvery scars vaguely visible on your skin in the dim lighting of the bar.

“I used to be a cutter, and sometimes when my emotions are really intense, I want to go back to it.” You admitted. “But I know it doesn’t serve me. But god, it feels easier, you know?”

You both ended up talking the whole night, and when Billy had brought up being friends with benefits, you’d jumped at it. He was charming and you were lonely.

Billy’s eyes looked like pits, as he narrowed them. He leaned down to your ear, “I’ll fucking cut the dick off the next man who touches you. No one gets to taste you but me.” He said, voice even, cold.

You wondered when you both had become so obsessed with each other.

You shivered, not in fear, but excitement. His possessive behavior made you feel warm, wanted. Your parents hadn’t wanted you, they’d been drug addicted and abusive, but Billy wanted you.

You slipped your fingers through the loops in his jeans, pulling him closer, “Want you to kiss me, Billy.” You whispered, and Billy could hear the raw need in your voice, mirroring his own need.

You both sighed in relief when his lips hungrily touched yours.

[charleslee-valentine]

Cats in The Cradle

Characters: Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair (no ships)

Word Count: ~6,000

Warnings: Abuse, cyclical abuse, toxic dynamics, Bo has complications from the surgery (missing cerebellum) and obsessive compulsive disorder, mental breakdowns, gun violence, delusions, religious trauma, implied sexual abuse, murder and the wax figures, Bo being mean to Vincent, blood and injury, vomiting, medical irresponsibility, paranoia, trauma bond.

~~~~~~~

Every day in Ambrose is the same. It’s when there’s change the trouble comes along.

Makes Lester world-weary. Got to run off on his little rot-filled road trips for some air. Though he stays tethered to the house, even if only at the end of the night, when he’s got to wander home for normalcy. It ain’t about the protection, he’s got a slugger under the seat for that, and it ain’t the occasional cooking his brothers get up to and burn each time either. He’s grown enough get shit done, even if it’s the ass crack of dawn outside and he ain’t eaten in a whole day, he’ll whip somethin’ up.

That’s the argument anyhow. That he can take well enough good care of himself to be allowed to roam some. Don’t make sense that he’d be the first, bein’ the youngest and all, but the antsier he got, the messier he got with the huntin’, and suddenly his big brothers had to leave Ambrose to track some fella that got out through the trees Lester was s’posed to be watchin’.

Thought that would get him strung up himself. A perfect wax Lester placed inside Trudy’s pride and joy tendin’ to little, pure wax, babies. Maybe down the pet store with Jonsey’s pups that never come to be, or shovelin’ shit out in the cemetery. That’d be like them, to leave him outside to melt and wither away.

Never come though. Got him a reprimandin’ sure, but he left it with a smile anyhow knowin’ big brother wasn’t gonna use his own bowie to slit his throat. And then again when Vinny told him he could leave on the condition he started tendin’ to himself and his chores without help from either brother, and come home every night.

Really if it were up to Vincent, they’d all get the same freedoms, but it weren’t. Never was going to be, when Mama kept him firm in her shadow. Bo’d kill ‘em all if he caught wind of Lester’s thinkin’ it, but fact is he figures Bo just replaced Mama when she keeled over.

Trudy was out her mind the last few years of it. Never went to no homes, despite what Bo likes to tell folks. They stayed and fixed Mama up. Ambrose got empty and miss Trudy got needy. It was every day pickin’ up shifts the tradesmen was droppin’, leavin’ the schoolhouse forever. Old fashioned as it was, s’not like they was learnin’ anything in a one-room, all-grades schoolhouse anyhow.

Still woulda been nice to have a shot at normal. Coulda left with the rush and forgot about highchairs and smelly wax. Nope.

Now Bo’s jus’ as mean as Trudy, enforcin’ his rule with the same flat palm. ‘Cept’n the part where his is rung around with scars.

Different, ‘cause Trudy’s off burnin’ in hell, not missed by a soul, but they stick close with Bo. Know it ain’t really his fault.

The Doc called it compulsions. Some kinda disorder come from havin’ to lose a piece or two of the lowest part of his brain in the surgery. Lester never gonna forget bein’ tiny as can be, sat on the table cause Trudy put him down and forgot him there, while Bo, who seemed so much older back then when the six years made a difference, was strapped down. They’d use the highchair still if they could, but he was too big and awful by then.

Shove him in a standard dining chair and tape his arms underneath. Let him cry and try to kick and pull and bare his teeth. Lester was just learnin’ to speak, and he’d asked what was happening’, curious about all the shouting and pain.

Bo told a little lie turns out. Same thing with the surgery, his mind would wander back then, forgetting what made reality real and made the stuff in his head not. He carved up some critter and left it in the art studio. Said Trudy gave him permission. Well she didn’t. Little Vinny was her artist, and notably, nowhere to be seen in this memory, autonomous enough to stay away, but never going far.

Must’ve hurt him too, listenin’ to Bo losin’ his mind now and again. Knowin’ it was him that leeched off the back of his head and absorbed that one important little piece out his skull. Payback for the whole, not having a tongue, thing.

Nowadays Bo’s a little better, but Ambrose still got to be pretty particular to not send him right back to the pale, polished arms of the hallucinations. Those belong in the casket down the road.

Lester blames Trudy. Even when he goes with to honor her when Bo needs to do it. Every Sunday is when he’s down there, so ‘less he’s got a job Lester’ll come down to see. Vincent’s usually there too, if nobody been through in a while.

They take off their hats and masks, bow their heads, and pray. They pretend they don’t notice Bo’s hips and knees splayed wide in an arc and struggling to walk straight when that metaphorical mask of the Doc’s training wares off. His hands shake. His words don’t come out right. Sometime’s Lester’s the only one in the house usin’ words, while the twins do their motioning about.

Really should’ve gotten more interested in those sign language books he’d been given way back when. It was funny, a lady on the TV could use sign ‘cause she couldn’t hear words and that meant she couldn’t make ‘em. Trudy saw it and was livid. Banned them all from 123 Sesame Street and whooped Bo for even turning it on. Like it was bad to communicate.

If Vincent knew how to make his signs back then, maybe he’d have told the papers the truth. After all it was Mama that did the talking. Givin’ him words gave him the chance to say no. To bein’ her little protege and heir. Like hell she’d ever let that happen. Had to teach it to himself in secret. Bo picked it up from watchin’ and snatchin’ up Vinny’s books and papers to tease.

Lester wishes he were that smart. Hell, Doc even said it himself, sometimes seemed like he was born with even less brain than Beauregard. ‘Cept he had a different name for Bo all the boys promised never to repeat. They’d get nasty, but none of that usin’ Mama and Papa against each other.

Prolly why they’s too scared to tell Bo he’s becomin’ like Trudy. Stumblin’, shakin’, pissed at everything.

Ambrose falls well into his liking. Bo got it all down to memory.

Bodies he don’t like don’t even go on display. Vincent could work his big ass off on a statue for weeks, but if Bo couldn’t squeeze it into however he’d categorized the town in imaginary gridlines, they’d be put on reserve. The wax house held the rejects, mostly. Once upon a time Vincent left Lester a note tellin’ him he sometimes dressed the statues up funny and messed up their makeup if they were his favorites, so Bo would reject them, and he’d get to keep ‘em. Worked every time too.

Be nice if they could laugh about things like that anymore. ‘Specially with Bo.

A new batch come through back in the early spring, just a couple months shy of a year or so ago then, and filled up lots of the empty space. Mostly went to the theater. Baby Jane and sister Blanche didn’t used to be lightin’ the place up with their sad story, they just tossed an old closed sign up ‘til the bodies rolled in.

It pissed Bo off when Lester was helpin’ him and wanted to put his statues in a line. Made sense, like they was all friends together! But Bo had it all mapped in his head, talkin’ who’s clothes matched who, color in their hair matchin’ with the number on their seats. That was more confusin’ than his fits.

Most of the time in Ambrose his workday was tidying, checkin’ on rat traps and the like. But sometimes when Lester could slip in a lunch break or two off patrol he’d see Bo pacin’. Drawin’ lines in the sky with his hands, mutterin’, kickin’ things. Like inside the theater but on the whole town.

Funny thing is they do gotta crown a new Miss Ambrose once in a while.

The silky bright colors of a beauty queen dress stand out far too much against the pale, sunfaded town they live in. Her smile too white, the makeup too sparkly. Bo tears the bodies to bits and takes them back to Vinny, like a child with his broken toy.

There’s nothin’ he can do, and they both know it, but Bo is different from Trudy in that he will admit regret. Not directly, he’d sooner swallow a gator in one bite, but showin’ the broken pieces is still better than tyin’ ‘em down to hide.

At least most of the time it ain’t like that. One thing he’s always picky about is the lights. Town gotta come to life some time, but Bo’s got a tradition. Generators don’t kick on ‘til he flips the switch manually, else he’ll block the sky with the burning neons of mom’s and pop’s updating with the times, and firey orange street lights. Bo insists they don’t got color. Just a disgusting haze that makes it hard to see. Lester takes the accusation of him being wrong, even though he knows it’s Bo’s head.

And he’s gotta see the sky. Star light, star bright, first star and all that- it’s his one shot at a wish. Not even his brother’s knows what he wishes for each night, peekin’ his head out the window ‘fore callin’ down to Vincent to flip the switch.

Maybe to make Ambrose perfect the way he sees it in his head, so he can stop runnin’ around town tryin’ to adjust it all. Finding those little pockets of feelings and digging in until anythin’ that stands out has to go.

Way back when, Lester kinda hoped Bo would set him free by thinkin’ he didn’t match. Not like he was part of the squirming mass his brother’s was born as. Nobody remembered Lester. Not for bein’ quiet and shy or for bein’ devilish.

Longer he stays though, he knows it’s not really Bo takin’ real care of Ambrose. His head needs it perfect, destroyin’ progress for somethin’ only he can reach and grasp and toss about like it means anything as a scolding hot weapon. Perfection burns hotter, stings worse than wax, and Trudy Sinclair wanted both from her boys.

Trudy might’ve been sick physically, but it come along long before that. Only a matter of time before Bo’s head gets angry ‘bout the dank environment up there and tries to plug it’s missing bits with the same cancer that took Mama the rest of the way to hell.

She had to’ve been there before she died. Else she wouldn’t have done what she did on her way out. Her last words. “Beauregard. Bo.. Promise me you’ll keep Ambrose tidy. You were Mama’s boy. Kept things in line. Don’t let it got to chaos, to hell.”

It was bullshit. If she weren’t already gasping for life Lester might’ve grabbed her throat then and there. Vince knew it too, cause he stepped in front of Les and went to Bo. Chest to back, the way they was conjoined, he’d tried to force his whispers with his half of a tongue, getting at least his twin’s attention to start gesturing.

“Don’t listen.”

“Mama is a liar.”

“You know how you are. You know how she is. Don’t.”

It was hopeless.

That word again. The Doc said compulsions, well sometimes he also said obsessions. Same disorder, different symptom. Neither one Bo could escape. Even if he’d been listenin’ to his brother, which he wasn’t.

All he heard was Hell and that was enough. Bo was terrified of the spiritual. They all oughta remember the way he’d been in church, even when it was full, bawlin’ his head off, havin’ those fits ‘cause he thought he was goin’ to face demons and hellfire for breakin’ rules. The panic meant he kept breakin’ rules, and he kept gettin’ scared, and so on.

It was a trap to scare kids into bein’ good, nothin’ worth anythin’ in adult life, but those Sunday mornin’s Bo kneels at Trudy’s coffin and prays for real, not just at her but at any God that will listen and spare him and his brothers. If Ambrose can be a haven, when it reaches that state of perfection, they’ll be guaranteed eternal life away from screamin’ babies and burning wrists and “please Mama I was doin’ my best-“

The script Bo operates on never ceases. Pretty girls get their mouths glued shut so they have to follow it. Lester drives the same route to catch the same folks and scrape the same families of deer off the roads. Hell it ain’t official, if it were he couldn’t keep the little trinkets and bones he does. Or the meat. But it covers well and no government gonna complain about free labor from a guy like him.

With the girls, they’re just like the deer. Bo takes their pictures and calls them sweet things, but he’s on repeat. Same task, get the restraints, tune out the noise or find a way to stop it, stay sickly sweet with ‘em all the while. Throw in some affection so they don’t fight so much.

Just. Like. Mama.

Lester don’t much like toyin’ with the art. Feels like goin’ in a museum and draggin’ your fingers all over the paint. Which actually is somethin’ Bo would probably do, if it wasn’t up to his standard, takin’ the whole frame and just tossin’ it right out. But they stay neat and displayed on his cellar walls, in scattered checkerboard rows that Bo thinks are straight across.

Thing that always stumps Lester, and Vincent actually, is when he catches Bo slicing little knicks under his fingertips. His palms. Adding newer scars to the thick band around each of his wrists. Always says the girls died too soon. Broke the script, the rules. Now he’s gotta make up for the pain that would be cast into the realm of Ambrose if it weren’t for the failure of another little miss coulda been the one. As if.

They ain’t for keeps. Nothin’ is. Ambrose changes, and changes, and changes. Still every day is the same.

Wake up at a certain time, make the rounds, play pretend, sit itchin’ by the one landline behind a locked door that works, waitin’ for Lester’s call home. If it don’t come in a few minutes, it’s down to make his rounds countin’ heads. Move a few things this way and that on the store shelves. Hang up a picture or two cut out meticulously (as shaky hands can be) from books and magazines, a mimic of the ranging advertisements on display in the bigger cities.

Not a mimic. A replication. Nothin’ bad, nothin’ wrong- that thing is not my baby!

Bo spirals a lot. When he’s on his own. Part of why he’s got to dig his hands so deep into Ambrose. There’s shame in it he tries to squash down with mixtures of somethin’ too strong for a normal day. Mixin’ rum and brandy in a big bottle of orange juice. Vodka in his morning coffee.

Drunk Bo is more coordinated than sober. That little cocktail comes to work with him, and he makes do. Let it be known he isn’t the twin to come away with an issue. Can’t be. He’s mama’s boy, remember?

Lester is sickened by it. Watchin’ his trances like that, knowin’ it’s all ‘cause of Trudy in her final moments.

Shit they didn’t even need to do the killin’, ‘f Bo coulda got his head screwed on a right way. Too late now ‘course. They’re hundreds of innocent lives deep in this thing. Got themselves a dog outta killin’ her owner. Another responsibility, a life to keep up.

Jonsey herself stresses Bo out to no end. Her wagging tail, her happy jumpin’ when she recognizes her dearest friends. When she barks at creaky staircases settlin’ at night, his jaw sets so tight his teeth creak audibly. If he got a cut, he won’t touch the dog. Says it’ll kill him to get any of her in with his blood. Seems silly to Lester, by Bo’s designation the one that plays in guts and bone splinters all day, gettin’ plenty of that himself.

Sometimes a storm’ll roll through in rain season and bring some nasty wind with it, scarin’ the life outta the poor puppy dog. She starts to shake and drool all over. It makes Bo so nauseous to watch he has to leave the room or hack up that nasty concoction he drinks that shouldn’t be stayin’ down anyhow.

Vince stays, always stays, ‘cause someone’s got to. Bo’s a flight risk and Lester just don’t much like bein’ the trapped one. So it’s a system set in stone, or carved in blood and bone more like. Breathed in like the ashes of Bo’s more or less wasted cigarettes.

Way Lester sees it, just like the papery stubs, the routine gotta but extinguished ‘fore they all choke to death on it.

But he hadn’t meant for things to get so different.

Like even thinkin’ it cursed the place, he sends one scrawny group their way and suddenly Bo’s bleedin’ all over the kitchen tiles. Wouldn’t even know it if Vincent hadn’t dialed his bother’s number and left the phone in Bo’s pocket. Keepin’ tabs on his pain so Lester can hear it all and know somethin’s up.

The arrow in his chest stays right there, until Lester pulls up. Somethin’ about knowing Vince called in backup is sign enough to take it serious. Insists on doing it himself though.

Lester says they oughta snip the arrow where it lies and take him to emergency later on. Bo says he’d rather die now than leave a vulnerable spot stickin’ six inches out his chest. Yanks it ‘til his knees buckle and he damn near smacks his teeth off the linoleum. Then vomits stinking alcohol everywhere.

Vincent can see it ain’t gonna happen that way, and locks eyes with Lester. Tells him mentally to pass on an apology for what he’s about to do. Which is, he grabs the arrow by just under the fletchings and yanks the damn thing out before Bo can lose his shit over splinters and weakness and all that.

Well, he loses his shit anyhow, screamin’ bloody murder that he’s gonna kill Vincent for that. Only for a moment before he blacks the hell out from the pain. Prob’ly won’t even remember callin’ Vince a freak.

The hunt goes on without ‘im, without what would’ve been -though Lester never likes admitting when his big brother is right- a weak point for the shifty ass kids to stick their fingers into. End up gettin’ a pretty good knock on ‘em too.

Just like before the girly made it out almost to the roads, but Lester’s a better shot than Bo. Don’t got those phantom shakes and all. Though Vinny would hafta to pick all that bullet scrap out if they was to use her as a figure.

The next time Bo’s conscious, he’s demanding to see what Vincent gonna do with the statues. And it’s a damn good thing they didn’t set out on digging up the shrapnel, ‘cause Bo’s pissed about the arrows, and the shop windows, and the church goers, and the house. It’s all messed up, that safety cushion gone and deflated in one night.

Can’t make art outta enemies. This particukar chase weren’t fun or even close to it. No bright side to it.

Bo wants them destroyed. All of ‘em at first, but Vincent won’t ‘llow that. Threatens to hop in the yellow truck again and take off just like last time knowing damn well it pissed Bo off and was the reason he took two still bleeding blows.

They gets rid of the twins, the girl and the boy ‘ gave ‘em the most trouble. Let Bo decide what he wants done with ‘em.

Could shred ‘em up, sink ‘em to the bottom of the road kill pit, though Lester’s hesitant to do so knowin’ the same group was already thinkin’ he hid bodies in it ‘stead of jus’ Trudy’s old model mannequins. There’s always the marshland they’d rot away in nicely, unnoticed.

He wants ‘em gone though. Not buried and rotting, not waxed over into someone new, gone.

Burn the bodies. Peel the flesh. Boil the bones. Smash ‘em into dust. Mix it in with Vincent’s pigments. Their crystallized, powdered remains make for some perfect shiny makeup on the blonde’s eyelids, and extra sparkle in her wax-cast jewelry.

Felt fitting, to adorn another member of the group in those two’s particular sins. It was them two that got the rest killed so brutally after all.

Speaking of sin.

Bo slept in the church for a few nights, sprawled painfully over a dusty pew, nothing but a jacket as cushion against the solid wood. Ambrose was different now. The order had been broken and he needed to hide from the wrath that would bring.

Mama’s empty husk of a corpse wouldn’t help him. He just hoped the proximity to the altar would get some divine figure’s eyes on him, even if not her. At least send down a quick recovery so he can fucking fix the mess those kids left behind.

The pain, he can swallow, but some part of his system got fucked over right into overdrive and now he’s got no control of his shakes. His legs are as bowed as they’ve ever been, limpin’ and draggin’ himself all this way to the church was humiliating enough. No way he’s installing fresh window panes and rearranging statues to his heart’s content like this.

The dog comes and gets Bo first in the morning. Sunlight pourin’ in through the stained windows, Bo feels like he’s burnin’ up in hellfire instead of kissed by heavenly rays. Or the sticky tongue of a staffordshire terrier. Pitbull mix. Whatever the fuck the mutt is.

Jonesy is always a sign Vincent is close, ‘nd Bo cannot, will not let either of his brotherd see he’s all but given up. Their ignorant little asses are s’pose to be none the wiser he even left the house last night.

The ramblings of a man happens to be clueless that they both watched his sorry ass limp on down there, fallin’ to his knees once and skid down the hill. Anyone alive in Ambrose could’ve heard him cry out when he jammed his busted up shoulder tryin’ to catch himself and struggled for a few minutes to throw weight into his legs and stand. His gait was fucked but so were his patterns, zig-zagging from one side of the road to the next and never knowin’ it.

Really he’d blacked out in the first empty pew, taking no time to get comfortable. It wasn’t about comfort, it was necessity. A shield around his already wounded heart. His brother’s checked on him every few hours.

Bo’s blood stains the church now, far beyond a dried raisin of a corpse in the center of the holy building. Trudy’s eternal wake seems more and more pointless. Her soul can’t be saved for the life she inflicted on her trio of tragic babes. But her son can. Even the devil on earth can be shown God’s graces if he could just fucking stand up and-

He’s humbled by Jonesy. She was his chance to get his ass up and find whichever one of his asshole brothers sicked the bitch on him. The way she curls up next to his boot, singular, that he managed to get off but not back on is her final brag. ‘You lost. Now my caretakers ‘re yours too.’

As expected, right on cue, Vincent creeps in the church then, forever stomping in too heavy boots, settling into the pew in front of Bo. Silent. Back turn so signs won’t work.

“Fuck you.” Is the first thing out of his mouth. Bo repeats it ‘til he vomits a pathetic tiny cough of spit and stomach acid onto the ruined floors.

Vincent doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react to being screamed at. He’s not the one with open wounds. Never fucking has been.

“I’m talking to you, freak!”

That word again. Bo doesn’t know why he keeps saying it. Got him choked up last night, rambling about his promises. Because that should be more important. Vincent’s face don’t mean shit when it comes to Ambrose. Hell, he’d probably be capable if the surgery took his arms too. That talent is unstoppable.

Like the silence.

“Don’t make me say it, Vincent. Fucking.. I ain’t here for your damn power trip, alright? You ain’t savin’ shit.”

Nary a fuckin’ glance. From behind, all inky hair and broad shoulders, it’s hard to pick out Vincent’s feelings. That frustrates Bo. Just like with victims, his brothers got a script too. He’s supposed to be in the know, in charge. Vincent can’t keep secrets from him. Secrets get brothers shot inches away from vital organs and arteries.

“Vincent. Vinny. Help your brother out..”

It reminds him of being younger. The highchair. Pleading with Vincent to cut the tape and let him go because Mama and the Doc never listened. His one little eye would shed enough tears Bo could see ‘em across the room. Stuck in place, while Vincent could come and go as he pleased, but still chose distance. And he never did free Bo from the restraints.

“C’mon, now. Gotta get this fuckin’ shit show on the road. Need a hand, Vinny..”

Begging for help out of the pew, it takes ‘em both back there. Bo hopes Trudy is the one stuck now, held down by ugly demons in that coffin of hers, watching her boys get along enough.

Well, Vincent listens anyhow when he’s talked to softly like that. Gets right up and takes Bo by his palms, never his wrists, and heaves him up. Even doesn’t make a comment when Bo’s ankle twists under itself for some godforsaken cranial reason and he stumbles straight into his brother’s shoulder.

Face first in a grimy sweater, he sort of understands what it’s like to be in Vinny’s place. At least in the conjoinment. Bo hates the pictures, of their little bodies all twisted up and stuck. The weight of Vincent is suffocating like that, not comforting like the feeling of warm cashmere. Makes him want to crawl right out of his skin.

Bo scratches at the bands of scar tissue on his arms, never a day in his life since they formed without drawing blood from a raised line of the itchiest goddamn feeling. Only way to describe it is like mosquitos stakin’ their claim on every last blood cell in the area. Poison in his blood, from his highchair days on.

Gotta push away from bein’ stuck in Vincent’s careful proximity. Can’t get comfortable, vulnerable, like a silent, squirming little bastard child.

Bo can’t do this. This switching places thing. If he’s gonna be the weaker twin, Vincent better fuckin’ do his part. One way or another. Provoking him is the easy part.

“Heard you kept the pretty blonde. Took some video to remember her, huh. You got the hots for some wax bitch, Vin?”

Nothing. He physically pushes Vincent, uncoordinated enough to miss his chest and thump into his shoulder instead.

“Look I don’t got much interest in your creepy fuckin’ Quasimodo dungeon, but I gotta know. D’you fuck her? Get up reeeeal close in that wax pussy?”

Bo swallows down more acrid bile. Forces a tight, painful laugh.

“Of course she’s special. Tiny. Blonde. Just your type yeah? Just like your whore mommy-“

There we go. Vincent shoves him back, both of them knowing damn well that’s enough to take Bo down right now. And it does alright. Knocks some ribs pretty good against the back of the pew on his way down, forcing out a painful puff of air.

While he’s down, Vincent takes a second swing with his boot this time, pinning Bo on down to the floor. Pretty sure he cracked his head when he got forced down. Or maybe just put too much strain on the arrow wounds, ‘cause damn is he seein’ little stars and Angels dancin’ in his narrow vision.

If he wanted to win, Vince would press down with that boot and put his twin out of both of their misery, crackin’ ribs into bits and stabbin’ his heart. That’s not his goal though, never had been. It’s to knock some damn sense into Bo that he’s injured and needs to forget about his spastic bullshit.

Pisses him off. Bo fights back by jabbing his fingers in the back of Vincent’s knee, bringing him down to kneeling on pure instinct. Now Bo can reach the straps of his apron, pull himself back up to Vincent’s level in this fight for his spot.

“You think you get to boss me ‘round jus’ ‘cause I’m fucked up.. Well you’re fuckin’ mistaken, boy! I am in charge ‘round here. Not you. Not Lester.”

Vincent just stares. Tears apart Bo’s attitude with just that familiar glare. Fuck him.

“Look at you, fightin’ your sick brother. Think ‘at makes you better’n me?” Bo feels like he’s suffocating, even without the pressure holding him down. He licks across his lips and ignores the taste, “Guess you oughta put a fuckin’ cap in me. ‘Member? I killed the bitch when she got too fucked up. Two for her and one for the Doc.”

Vincent’s eye contact wavers, drifting over towards the plush coffin, like he’s considering it. So Bo doesn’t shut up, doesn’t even know if he can, “Leaves three more in the chamber. Could take us all out. One for baby Les. One for you. One for me. I’d do it if you left me for last. Don’t got nothin’ without-“

His intense staring finally processes in his brain, noticing the off details about Vincent’s face. The mask, the good one, was ruined in the hunt. There was a smaller one that would make do but wasn’t comfortable. Bo examines it, eyes flitting around, confusion in his bunched brows.

“The fuck happened to your face?”

‘You did.’ Vincent thinks, but he doesn’t tell him that. Instead he shrugs, hopes he won’t press the issue. Redirecting ain’t as easy when Bo’s still askin’ more questions.

And Bo is furious now, “We could fuckin’ quit it, you know. Got no right touchin’ your fuckin’ face. Fuck ‘em, Vinny. Can’t believe they’d fuckin’ lay a hand on you, I’ll kill them all!”

He must know they’re already dead in truth, because he goes silent for a while. When he comes back, he’s talking about their other conversation. The one with the pistol that killed Mama and the Doc in their beds, years and years apart.

Dangerously close to being honest, Bo hisses and acts like he’s adjusting his aching shoulder, but really, the pain is nothing compared to what’s going on in his head.

“Can’t do it on my own. One of us dies, we all die. You fuckin’ promise me that?”

Bo seems to think he’s ill. His eyes blur over and it’s not tears, just a pounding in his head. He’s dehydrated from vomiting so much, delirious from the blood loss, but he thinks he knows better. The tumor. Come for him this time. That’s what he convinces himself.

“You’d do it, Vinny, wouldn’t ya, if I couldn’t?” His nose is running from the humidity, the pain, his body forcing a fever to fight for himself. In his mind’s eye, it’s blood pouring from his nose. Just like Daddy after his skull popped.

Fuck. He’s already dead.

“Vincent. Vincent you can’t let go of me!” He clutches that sweater like his life fucking depends on it, glancing at the ground and back up at his brother, over and over, like it might fall away any second.

His brother tilts his head in confusion, but Vincent obliges his ramblings, holding onto Bo around one arm, the other hand balled in his trashed uniform shirt.

“You let go of me ‘n I’m a goner, y’hear? Don’t you fuckin’ let me go. Hell ain’t ready for me. I’m not- My soul got business here and you ain’t fucking gonna turn me into wax, goddamn it. I ain’t the monstrosity here. Fuckin’.. You aren’t either Vincent. That bitch- That fuckin’ demon in Mama’s coffin, don’t let it take me-“

His rambling goes on like that ‘til he passes out again. Under Vincent’s ill-fitting mask, his best one ruined in the hunt, tears are running down the left side of his face. Finding meaning in this fit, knowing full well Bo won’t remember it tomorrow, is idiotic. But he does it anyhow. Lets himself take it to heart that he’s necessary, and loved, and nothing at all like Miss mama Trudy.

He’s right though, Bo doesn’t remember a thing. Vincent carried him home and Bo woke up on the couch, had a plate of eggs like nothin’ happened. Across from him, he nodded to Lester, “You spot a single soul out there, you let us know ‘n we’ll be by. Not too much work today.”

Lester scowls and nods his head, dumbstruck by how much he forgot this time, “Yeh, alright. Got nothin’ better t’ do myself.”

There ain’t gonna be a hunt for a long while, and just as likely he ain’t gonna leave Ambrose. Too many repairs to leave to Bo in this state, all fucked in the head by his disorder. It’s like that sometimes in cycles, but they ain’t seen it get this bad before.

Routine is routine. Bo’s disorder robs him of his sense, his brain defects makin’ him weak. His brother’s fix everythin’ up ‘til his brain gets all better, and he gets bored of doin’ the small stuff. Thinks Ambrose is always the same, nothin’ ever happenin’ to disrupt his perfect plan.

Make Mama proud. Make Bo calm. Same goddamn difference.

Lester looks at Vincent across the table, and he nods, the signal to keep lying to Bo. “Saw a group campin’ in the woods. Two girls, ‘bout four boys. Teenagers, I could get ‘em back and Vinny can take ‘em.”

They’re already dead. The keepers of the group already a part of Ambrose. Dead men walking.

“You sit tight, rest that arm up. Show you the new figures in the mornin’.”

It’s gettin’ too easy to lie through his teeth, but harder to keep Bo inside.

Neither knows what the stiff nod from Bo means, ‘til he says, “Have your fun. Jus’ be fuckin’ careful. You fuck up my town, I’ll fuck up somethin’ of yours.”

‘Uh-huh, we know, asshole.’ Lester thinks, tension in his jaw pushing it forward. There’s all kinds of words just dancin’ on his tongue, but he swallows them back, if only ‘cause Vince puts his hand on his shoulder.

Instead, he manages to choke out a simple, “Yessir.”

[brotherhoodoftheblade]

So finally I read Voyager (by that I mean, I actually read the whole thing this time, and not just John and Jamie’s chapters lol) for the first time in five or six years and I’d been meaning to jot down my impressions of it (while I still have them somewhat fresh to mind) but, typically, I’ve kept forgetting and getting distracted by other stuff. (I actually finished it nearly a month ago, but again, my mind forever is fluff on the wind it seems. *sigh*)

Since I really don’t want to end up writing another another long-winded essay about the book I’ll attempt to keep it brief. lol

Rereading Voyager once again made clear why Jamie/Claire has always been much more easily shippable for me than Jamie/John. (Even though my shipping of J/C is low-key to negligible tbh.) It’s not because the latter doesn’t have a very interesting (if ultimately too toxic for me) dynamic (even if the fascinating quality of their relationship is sometimes akin to being unable to tear your eyes away from a car crash). And it’s not because I’m too much of a puritanical pearl-clutcher to appreciate to the dark allure of a so-called toxic ship (trust me, I have far more f*cked up ships than J/J lmao).

The main reason Jamie and Claire work for me, despite the fact that they can often be pretty batshit in their dynamic, is because they’re the SAME KIND of batshit...about EACH OTHER...EQUALLY. 😂

Jamie/John just don’t have that. The batshit obsessiveness is way too one-sided. I mean, if they’re not equally in unhinged, all-consuming love with each other then what’s even the point? lol Such an unbalanced nature in a toxic ship just doesn’t sail far with me, and after a while just has me looking at the undervalued party wishing they’d locate their self-respect, get a grip, and get a damn life already! (And, yes, I’m looking at you, John. *weary sigh*)

Also, rereading the infamous “take your hand off me or I’ll kill you” scene between John and Jamie at Ardsmuir reaffirmed my initial impression of it back when I’d first read it years ago (and let’s be honest, between ADHD and depression brainfog, I don’t really begin to fully trust my own memory of books until I’ve read them a few times). That it’s wholly unethical for the governor of a prison to proposition any of his prisoners is indisputable to me, but even putting that aside, the whole exchange still came off pretty questionably to me just on its own. 

Jamie did nothing whatsoever to indicate that he might be receptive to that sort of attention from John. It’s like when you find yourself suddenly hit on apropos of nothing, despite having given no sign of encouragement whatsoever -- and at an inappropriate time to boot. I mean, seriously, how did John think propositioning Jamie in the wake the revelation of his grief over the loss of the love of his life was a remotely considerate time to be doing that? (If someone had tried to take advance of me in such a vulnerable moment after I’d shared something so personal with them, I’d have been bloody annoyed!)

Their exchange of shared grief was the first moment of genuine trust extended  between them, a gift really, especially on Jamie’s part, and John thought that was a good time to make a move on him? And more importantly, where’s the logic in it? 

Jamie had just been talking about how much he loved his wife - a woman - while having never done anything to give the impression that he was remotely attracted to John (in fact, the impression given was much the opposite most of the time), so how then did it make the remotest sense for John to risk exposing himself like that?? Especially when John’s always emphasizing how crucial it was for men like himself to be careful around other men and not make any dangerous assumptions. Extreme caution is always the order of the day when it comes to situations like this, so wouldn’t it at least have made more sense to wait until he felt more certain of the lay of the land? 

Except with Jamie he already knew perfectly well he had no need to practice the same kind of caution he would’ve with any other gentleman. Jamie was a convicted Jacobite with no standing whatsoever. He couldn’t have spoken out about John even if he’d wanted to -- his word was worthless against him. (And of course, it’s in much the same tone of imbalanced power that John carried forward their strained friendship under duress during Jamie’s years at Helwater.) 

Of course, despite John’s awareness of the disproportionate amount of power he held over Jamie, his intentions, at heart, weren’t remotely malicious. (He’s certainly no Black Jack Randall!) Yet, it’s still the appearance of impropriety that stands with him. Mainly because intellectually he knows better than to do half the stuff he does, but he just gets caught up in the intensity of his feelings in the moment and ends up doing impulsively reckless shit. It’s the story of his life at this point. :/ (I mean, just think how often his “brave” impulsivity or his injudicious tongue has ended up landing him straight into hot water, while instances where cravenness stilled his tongue could’ve changed the course of his life for the better if he’d only had the courage to speak from his heart.)

Another thing that stood out to me was the characterization of Frank Randall in the book in comparison to the general attitudes of animosity he receives in the fandom. 

Now I can’t say I strongly ship either Jamie/Claire or Frank/Claire (though I’ve certainly found both interesting and likeable at times), so I’m pretty neutral when it comes to any shipping biases on their parts. I do feel that it’s stanning Jamie and Claire so much that’s garnered Frank so much unwarranted hatred. I mean, he’s not a saint (none of them are lol) but he also couldn’t be farther from the devil. The worst thing charge I can legitimately lay at his feet is being a racist (though it’s unfortunately pretty understandable given his age and the time period - after all, only the people who were rarely ahead of their time could legitimately have been said to have not been racist at all during a time when it was the cultural norm). 💀

But aside from the racism, Frank was a far better man than most. How many men would’ve taken Claire back after she turned up three years later, pregnant with another man’s child, whom she had married and fallen in love with even though she was already married to Frank??? And not only that, loved that child as much as if she’d been his own biological daughter? Despite the fact that just the sight of Brianna was a constant flesh and blood reminder that Claire had betrayed him? And that Claire was still in love with Jamie despite having returned to Frank. (And he even supported her going to medical school - something a lot of husbands in that time wouldn’t have done.)

And yeah, I know he cheated on her - and that’s what so many rake him over the coals for - but under the circumstances I find it kind of hard to blame him. Did Frank not deserve to be with someone who actually loved him? Unlike Claire, who only ever came back to him in body but not in spirit, and certainly not in heart! She spent all those years being emotionally unfaithful to him first, even though he was the one who’d chosen to do the honourable thing by standing by her and raising a child that wasn’t even his. It takes two people to ruin a marriage, and the efforts of both in concert to make things work. And Claire couldn’t have made it clearer that her heart was no longer in their relationship -- and that wasn’t Frank’s fault. 

And the final thing that really stood out to me: the rampant fatphobia in Outlander. I mean, I’d noticed it here and there but hadn’t paid it a great deal of attention because it mostly seemed like isolated occurrences scattered throughout the books (and as I’ve said before, I haven’t fully read all of the OL books from cover to cover yet - mostly the parts with John, Percy, or others closely related to them). 

But reading the whole of Voyager brought back to me how often I’d noticed similar fatphobic sentiments expressed at other times, and just how frequently, in particular, DG uses fatness to emphasize the repulsiveness of villainous characters (like with Geillis when her character is reintroduced in Jamaica). And, it’s such a common sentiment even just in passing conversation that you’ve probably already noticed it (or if you somehow haven’t, I bet you’ll start noticing it a lot more now).

Even in her parting advice to Brianna, Claire goes, “Try not to get fat”, and I was like ‘WHATTT?? She’s abandoning her daughter (who’s also lost her father and has no other relatives) and you may never see her again, and THAT’S the parting motherly life advice you have for the poor girl??? ‘Try not to get fat’?!?!” Seriously? 🙄

DG can shove her fatphobia up her arse with the rest of her toxic predilections, for all I care.😐

[squirrelno2]

the emphasis on shipping in fandom culture is so wild to me to consider because like. there are certain things in jatp that I ship very emphatically, but I literally wrote myself into shipping them. when I was writing my first fics in the fandom, I didn’t plan for julie/luke/reggie or flarrie. I expected willex, because the show gave us that and gave me plenty of vibes to go “ok they like each other and would work together in the long term”. but especially with noncanon ships I always find myself stumbling into them as I plan or write a fic. I do sometimes set out to write a romance, but that’s usually when I’ve been in a fandom for a while and know “ok I like these dynamics and have had thoughts about shipping them in previous works, let’s dig into that.” and then I’m always writing like it’s a persuasive essay! like there are people reading who aren’t convinced about the ship, and I have to show my work.

even working with ocs it’s like, “ok I made this guy to be a friend for this character, but also I think that this particular dynamic would probably lead to romance and/or sex” (this thought brought to you by me knowing I haven’t touched my Jesse Lives au in forever) - actually I would say with ocs it’s most important because holy hell nobody is going to be automatically invested in your oc’s romantic or sexual life but you. you have to do a lot of legwork on that one unless your only intent is more of a reader insert vibe where ppl can imagine intimacy with their favourite character, which means they don’t care about your oc so much as they care about being able to project anyway. they already know why they’d be into this canon character. you don’t need to do anything there (which to be clear you do you, that just holds very little appeal for me for various reasons. live your dreams my friends)

and it’s just weird to me that people will write things where. it’s characters who don’t interact much. and then they don’t put any effort into making the reader ship it? they jump straight to “both characters are yearning and have been since they met” because they ship it, and they don’t require buildup, and I’m like “but how did you get here. why does it matter that they’re doing these things for each other.” and a lot of it tends to be a lack of deep characterisation, so it could be any two guys being gay (or. any ship. i’m maybe thinking about Certain Popular Gay Ships in fandom but also calling out baby me’s destiel obsession specifically. it’s fine no judgment but also fandom has a white gay man problem and that is a different post entirely) - and a lot of it also seems to be like. allosexual people (I assume from uhhh sexytime context clues) and definitely alloromantic people thinking that attraction alone is the legwork. like there’s nothing else to prove about a relationship. they like each other, boom, romance.

when you’re writing a romance, you don’t just have to have the characters woo each other (which. as a reader of both fic romance and original, published romances, let me tell you a lot of writers don’t even do that) - you have to make the ship woo the readers. draw us in. prove to us in word and action that these two care, make each other better (or worse, I write some toxic codependent shit too), that there is some reason to want them together and not settle for whatever preexisting dynamic they have. why does it matter that these people are in love? why are these obstacles worth overcoming? what does it add to a non-romance story to have this ship in it?

I would like romances that romance me, damn it

[pliskin]

It’s really hard for me to like larry and geeta pairings besides each other bc I love (the theory of) them being childhood friends so much so their whole lives were centred around the other, so them breaking up and seeing other ppl is like idk I still think they’d be hung up on the other too much to move on. Their familiarity is basically canon so I feel like I’ll always approach any shipping dynamic as them being separated or friends that drifted apart and no other pairing really comes close to that, even tho I like tulip being a toxic lesbian and rika having a crush on geeta (<- that’s how I see those ships) but for geeta I only see her being interested in larry smh…… and I also really like larry ->->-> geeta also he seems a bit. Obsessive from how many times he’ll mention her… they really just feel like The ship for each other

[pathofemblems]

Ship Bias for Louis and Pandreo? Henry too?

✶ anonymous › send ❛ ship bias ❜ & i will share up to 5 ships i have a bias for for my muse!

was the anon an accident? you don’t have to be anonymous for memes! 🥹

◦ pandreo ›

posted!

◦ louis ›

01.) zelkov — to be honest, i initially expected a goofy dynamic from them until i reached their a support, and then i fell down the angst rabbit hole… louis patiently waiting for zelkov’s walls to fall with no complaint hurts a little bit, but in a good way. zelkov deserves to be taken care of and find someone he can take care of in return.

02.) timerra — they don’t have supports together, but i feel like louis would be absolutely enchanted with how free-spirited and stunning timerra is. even if she’s trash at singing, he could listen to her all day. she’s, like… the worst siren ever, but she makes up for it with her strength, charm, and literally everything else. timerra might think he’s a little stuffy, but in a cute way. idk, IDK, i just think they’d work really well together.

03.) ivy — literally he made it his GOAL, his MISSION, to make ivy smile, and then she DID, and it was because of HIM. he made her LAUGH. screaming, crying, possibly throwing up, they’re perfect.

04.) amber — maybe i’m stupid, but i thought they had supports. it’s the mandela effect in action, or maybe i’ve just genuinely enjoyed my rp interactions because they felt a little natural to what in-game conversations would be like—to me, anyway. but yes, i find them very sweet and they’d fit the friends-to-lovers trope easily.

05.) alear — i mean, he bragged and gushed about alear to his brothers back home so much that they wanted to meet alear to see who louis was so infatuated with! and fun fact: the english voice actors for male alear and louis are married irl!

◦ henry ›

01.) tharja — it might be cliché, but it works so well, and the rivals-to-lovers dynamic is always a fun one. also, they’re both fucking toxic. tharja obsessed over her love interests and henry has complex abandonment issues, and mutually obsessing over each other is hot anyway.

02.) gaius — they’re like the couple who can never sit still and are always going on adventures. the life of the party. the idiots who do dangerous dares for fun and then go kiss each other’s booboos in private while making fun of each other. stupid.

03.) cherche — she took charge and forced him to open up properly, and their entire support chain’s cute. he takes care of her, loves her wyvern, and ultimately seems like one of the best husband options for cherche. that, and my gerome’s default father is henry, so… d=(´▽｀)=b

[alyjojo]

Love Reading 🎎 - February 2023 - Scorpio

Singles:

Overall energy: The Chariot rev

How you will meet: Queen of Swords

How they will treat you: 7 Cups

Long-term Potential: 7 Swords & The Fool

I hate to call you “lesser evolved”, but that’s the vibe I’m getting from this reading on your end. Young or inexperienced Scorpios are often SO eager for love, they’d fall in love with a tree stump if it would agree. No offense, truly 🙏 Because the point is you deserve better than this, and you put up with it because you just want to be with someone, but someone deserving of your affections is better. There’s no movement with either of these people, there are two. You meet Queen of Wands after a former lover leaves, off to search for “better” somewhere else, and you’re single. It’s probably no time before this other person comes in, but it feels like you’re the one chasing them, with Stalker coming up and all, you’ve probably had your eye on them for awhile. But they don’t choose you.

Either you’re stuck to something else, or they are, and the dynamic between you is one like they know you’re an option, and you’re bitter that they do nothing, but they don’t and they won’t. Long term is this person avoiding a new beginning with you like it’s the plague. They could even ghost you, or lie. It’s a feeling of they really like you but maybe not in the same way, though they aren’t outright saying that, or again they’re tied up with something else and aren’t interested in something new with you. If you’re stuck between two right now, it’s probably neither.

Messages -

Their side:

- I just don’t know what to say.

- I’ve never met anyone like you.

Your side:

- Boujee 💅🏽

- Stalker 👀

Signs you may be dealing with:

Cancer, Aquarius, Aries & Virgo

Couples:

Overall energy: 6 Swords

Current: The Moon

Challenge: Strength

Potential: 2 Pentacles rev

There’s a lot of major arcana here, clearly this is a very important time in this relationship, which feels like a make or break decision. The pressure of that is killing you. You’re currently sitting in fear that any toxic cycles, addictions, obsessions on any level - maybe can’t be healed, can’t be fixed, not while things still stand as they are. If something triggers change, then so be it, but you’re less than hopeful that’s possible while you stay in this connection. The goal is to move away from drama and begin anew, whether with this person or not. The challenge is you holding yourself back, along with any frustrations you may have, because you don’t actually want to end things. The end hurts, it hurts this other person, you don’t want to do it. The potential is you being under SO much pressure having to juggle things, ideas, decisions, real life problems, you just can’t take it anymore. You don’t know if you want to keep trying, or fix a connection at all, or if you want to keep going in some other direction. There is no clear answer here, but a LOT of major arcana energy. That shows the situation itself is a big deal, meeting this person and whatever has transpired to put you here, even oracles nod towards past life connections - which could be what’s at play…karmic circumstances, BUT, the decision is ultimately yours. And the reading isn’t giving answers, showing different people choose different things. No choice is wrong. What is best for your life?

Messages -

Their side:

- Not ready…yet

- Darker Skin Tone

Your side:

- Follow My Lead

- Excellent Cook 🍱

Oracles -

Their side:

Be careful that negativity doesn’t lodge in your body. Visualize a green light around you for protection.

Identify yourself by your thoughts and feelings and not what you own.

Your side:

You can be a caregiver and rescuer, but be sure you’re own caregiver first.

Ask God to remove any negativity from you, even something that may have happened in a past life that is affecting this life.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Aquarius, Pisces, Capricorn & Libra

[onsunnyside]

✯⌎ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Major Crossover—dark alpha!fratboys!: Ari Levinson, Steve Rogers, Curtis Everett, Ransom Drysdale, Andy Barber x omega!reader [dark A/B/O college AU, one reader, HC Verse]

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | DARK themes and elements, A/B/O dynamics, mean!cevans characters, DARK!cevans characters, manipulation, toxic behaviour, obsessive & possessive behaviour, soft!DARK, misogyny (within A/B/O designations), SMUT - minors DNI, NON-CON/DUB-CON, coercion, jealousy, competition, major power imbalance, heavy dom/sub undertones, size difference, daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, object insertion (sex toys: anal plug, ‘carrot style’ dildo, vibrating ‘eggs’), dumbification, degradation, cum as lube, overstimulation, possible dehumanization, gangbang: “sharing is caring,” dacryphilia, unprotected sex (p in v, p in a), double penetration (v & a), anal sex, rough sex, squirting, oral (f), creampie, handjobs, pussy slapping, choking, voyeurism, filming sex, implied/mentions of: face fucking, somnophilia, chase kink, free use

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | You celebrate Easter with your five alphas. Based on this ask from my sunny bunny party.

𝗪/𝗖 | 4.34K

𝗔/𝗡 | well i definitely feel like a whore, but what else is new, this may be the most filthy thing i’ve written as in the context. I don’t have much for this version of HCV, so we’ll see how it ends up. i never thought i’d write something like this. warning: i don’t know if it’s classified as subspace, but reader gets fucked stupid. this is a dark fic, the warnings have been given—if you don’t like it, don’t read.

˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Your eyes bounce between the options on the printed page, and breaths leave your mouth in puffs. You can hear the birds through the opened window, and feel the cool breeze crawling up your spine. 

“5-4-3-2—”

“Is it, uh,—A?”

“Nope.” 

You gasp, your eyes falling shut in pleasure as the vibrations intensify and your walls pulse around the thick toy. Your toes curl in your knee-highs and your nails dig into the couch. “Oh, m-my…” 

“Look at that.” Comes a Brooklyn drawl from behind you, “She’s so wet, it keeps slipping out…” Steve holds the dildo by the base and presses it to the hilt. He almost feels bad for you because he can feel the strong vibrations from the other toy also stuffed into you. After everything they’ve put you through, he’s surprised you’re still conscious.  

Poor baby, but it was all your fault anyway. 

"Oh, honey, you like history that much?” Ransom teases, shutting the book and fixing your crooked bunny ears. They aren’t as pretty anymore since he threw them to the ground to get a better grip on your head when he was fucking your face earlier. There’s still some cum on your chin, but he won’t say anything. He prefers watching you go about the day covered in him or his frat brothers. 

Steve coos, “Want me to stop it, baby?” He spits on you, his saliva landing on your puckered hole stretched around a plug, still sore and puffy from his prep this morning. You were asleep and kept squirming until he held you down. When your eyes finally opened, his heart swelled and he had you up against the shower wall within minutes. 

The other guys had tried to join when you were nearly finished, but Steve locked the door. And when it was broken, the both of you were in the bathtub, and you were cockdrunk in his arms, drifting away and letting him wash you. 

They’d have to get the door fixed again, but it wasn’t like none of the other guys were completely innocent either. They each had their selfish streaks but compared to the beginning of your relationship, they’ve gotten far better at sharing. 

“P-Please, stop it.” You sigh in relief when he pulls at the end hanging out and presses the power button, and the low humming comes to an end. You sag into the cushions, practically lifeless as Ransom caresses your face, inching closer to your gland. 

Then, Steve turns it back on, this time on the highest setting. 

“Steve!” You cry out, falling onto your belly as you shudder, and release around the toys. Your squirt drenches the couch and Steve’s lap, marking both with your scent. Your mind goes blank and your tummy hurts with the amount of pressure as the toy roughly thrusts in and out of you, jostling the vibrator and prolonging your high.  

You don’t know how much time had passed, but you did feel someone cleaning between your legs and another hand trail up your back, “You okay, sweetie?”

“Mhm…” You trail off, your head sinking into the plush pillow before it’s pulled to a lap. A certain scent of smooth vanilla with a dash of cocoa flows up your nose, “Andy?”

“Yes, it’s me.” A soft sound makes your eyes open and you watch the basket get filled with a few more of those dreaded eggs that ruined you in the first place. You tuck away from it, whining at the soreness that blooms from your core. 

“Had to find the rest and wash them for you.” Andy rubs your head softly, his gentle tone a sharp contrast to the growing tent in his pants, “Dumb little bunny couldn’t help but cum from what—four eggs? You didn’t even find all of them.”

“Sorry, alpha.” You sniffle, wishing to just go to sleep for the rest of the day, but according to the alphas, the festivities have just begun.  

“You know what that means, right, honey?” 

“It means she’s getting chased through the woods next time like a stupid little bunny. I wanted to do it—but no, it would’ve been too much.”

“Are you honey?”

Ransom shrugs, “Sometimes.”

Andy shakes his head, facing you again, “Talk to me, omega.” 

“I tried…” 

“You did, and maybe next time, you’ll do better.” He looks down at you, both eyebrows raised, “You’ll do what you’re supposed to, and not disappoint your alphas.” 

That’s how you end up between Ari’s legs, his long hard cock against your back as Curtis stuffs you full with the vibrating ‘eggs.’ Your puffy folds are spread wide for the rest of the fraternity brothers to freely gaze at. Steve, Ransom and Andy sit in chairs, heavy cocks hanging out of their pants as drool dribbles down your chin.

“How many now?”

“The seventh keeps slipping out.” Curtis’ fingers prod at the little vibrating ball, he sucks his digits clean before reaching for another egg and easily adds it into your stuffed cunt, he groans lowly, “We’re at eight now, sweet girl. You’re doing so good.” 

The towel is soaked underneath you. After squirting a handful of times, Steve and Andy’s cum act as lube for your tight hole, and their seed combined with your slick has made an embarrassing mess of your core. 

At least they put the eggs on the lowest setting, you didn’t even want to think of having all of them on the highest.

“Fit another. If she gets nine, I’ll get that tight ass for the week.” 

“In your dreams,” Steve scoffs, “It’s like you don’t even know our girl, she can barely take a few fingers and a cock at the same time in one hole. She’s had enough today and she’ll warm me for the next seven days.” He licks his lips at the thought. “What makes you think she’ll fit another?”

“She’ll do it for me. Right, omega?” Ransom asks you. “You’re going to try to take another for me.”

“I-I,” You blink away the tears and shake your head as Ransom sighs. “No, daddy—can’t.” You whine, unable to relax in Ari’s comforting hold, most of the time, his warmth keeps you grounded but right now, you feel like you’ll be flying in a few moments. “Too much, too full.”

“Are you sure this time?” Curtis asks, tattoos stretching along his shoulder as he sits up, chain dangling between his pecs. “You said that at five and started crying when Andy took the basket away.” 

“Little whore couldn’t even decide if she was too full.” Ransom scoffs, jerking his cock slowly, “She gets fucked so often but is still too tight for two cocks in the same hole. One of these days, I won’t care and I’ll just shove in there, fucking tear her apart.” 

“Bet she’ll love it.” Steve agrees, his mouth waters as one of the eggs slips out of you, covered in your cream and his cum. “When has she ever said no anyway?”

“Plenty of times,” Andy answers, moving next to Curtis for a closer look. Your cunt is so used, your clit is still rubbed raw from his beard earlier, and your ass is stuffed with a plug.  “We just never listen.”

“We’ll listen this time.” The fraternity president’s hands fall below your tummy, tracing lower and pressing slightly. Another egg falls out, your hole clenches as the rest shift inside you, still softly vibrating against your pulsing walls. “We promised.”

“Promises are meant to be broken.” Curtis shrugs, eyes locked on your contorted face as he barely touches your clit making you jump, and he laughs cruelly. “Like when I promised I wouldn’t fuck her face when we went to the movies.” 

“You ruined her makeup. I had to take her to dinner with smeared mascara.” Ransom starts fucking into his fist, head falling back as memories rush back, you clinging to his arm in the fancy establishment, all dolled up and cute, he loved showing you off. He also teased you under the table that day. 

“You could’ve let her fix it.”

“I would have just messed it up again.” 

“Hey, open those pretty eyes.” Your lashes flutter open, meeting Curtis’ clear blue gaze but the contact doesn’t last long because Ari applies pressure again, and two more eggs slip out. Joining the filthy mess. Curtis’ wet hand taps your cheek, “Look at me, are you done?”

You nod, blubbering as Steve’s fingers lightly tug at your nipples, you’re so sensitive and sore, you can barely tell left from right. Drunk on endless highs, and so many suffocating scents. But god, you loved and feared it at the same time. 

“Oh, poor bunny, your little cunt is stuffed to the brim.” Ransom slides next to you, craning his neck to stare. 

“Daddy… Don’t look…”

“Why not? You’re shy?” He chuckles darkly, “What if I get closer, huh? Spread your puffy folds, and get a really good look at your filthy pussy. I should bring you to the mirror and make you look at it. See what a slut you are for your alphas.”

You pout at him, shutting your legs. “You’re being mean…”

“Am I being mean?” He asks the rest of the men, and receives different replies; ‘yeah,’ ‘no way,’ ‘she’s just sensitive.’ “Whatever—how can I make it up to you, pet? I’ll be nice since it’s a holiday.”

Your eyes fall to his shirt, and he immediately knows what you want. He tugs off his t-shirt and hands it over. You take the fabric and bring it to your nose, rubbing your face into it and enveloping yourself in his scent. 

“She’s chirping,” Steve smiles warmly, and his delicate touch travels up your leg. “Even after all the shit you’ve pulled, she still wants to be with you.”

“Shut up.” Ransom rolls his eyes. “Isn’t Steve being mean too, baby? Go on, tell him to fuck off.”

Your eyes widen, “No! Are you stupid—” Ari slaps your thigh harshly. “Ow!”

“Watch your mouth before I make you clean those eggs. Now open your legs, don’t make me ask twice.” His deep voice demands from behind you. His chest hair tickles your back, “Don’t forget who you are.”

An omega, it goes without being said. The power they hold over you both in designation, status and physical strength. They towered over you and you felt so small between them with the weight of their blue stares. 

You slowly spread your thighs, covering your face in unease as the other alphas crowd around you. Ari forces them wider with his knees and moves you onto his lap, putting on a show for the rest of his frat brothers. Someone’s spit lands on your clit before the bundle is rubbed, sending streams of pleasure through your veins. They play with you for a bit, tracing your wet hole, and putting your combined juices back in only for it to drip out again. Suddenly, a thickness prods at your weepy hole. 

Your eyes shoot open, shining up at the buzzcut-haired man sinking his cock into you. “Wait, the eggs—”

“I know.” Curtis cuts you off, “Ransom, turn up the setting. Wanna fuck her until she’s dumb.”

“She already is.” Steve moves your hand to his cock, your fingers can’t meet around his fat girth.

“See? Isn’t he mean, baby? Why don’t you tell him how mean he is.” Ransom grabs your other hand, spitting into your palm before fucking into your fist. 

Ari kisses up the back of your neck, and all the touching, the sounds, and the feelings distract you enough for him to slip out the plug and replace it with his dick. You accidentally grip Steve and Ransom a little too tight, and the alphas groan in sync. Butterflies with glass wings flutter in your stomach, shattering against each other and fracturing you from the inside out. 

“N-No, I can’t—please! Stop!”

“Shut up. Bunnies don’t speak.” Ari grunts into your ear, rough and raspy, “You know what they do?”

“They hop.” Curtis answers smugly, his dark eyes eating you up, “Better hop, sweetheart, before Ransom tries to slide in too.” 

You start bouncing on their cocks. The oxygen feels so thin and you can barely sit up straight, stuffed to the brim as the eggs vibrate against your tender walls. Your moans are utterly indecent, the lewd noises of your actions fill the hot air and harmonize with the squeaking of the bed.  

And that’s what Andy walks in on. You’re a fucking mess, covered in spit, cum and your slick, weakly riding two cocks at once and jerking off another two. Your poor cunt stretched so wide around Curtis’ length, your cream forms a ring around his base and dribbles down to Ari’s under you—Andy wishes he could see your ass, it’s probably so ruined too. 

“What a good bunny, hopping on your alphas cocks like a whore—fucking—” Curtis’ hips stutter when you tighten, “You knot hungry slut, greedy little cunt keeps sucking me in. You love being split open on us?”

“Uh-huh, don’t, ah! Please don’t stop!” You moan, choking on your words. Your bunny ears go crooked as you look down at your used centre and Curtis’ thick cock spearing you open, every time he thrusts out, Ari slides in and they alternate on keeping you as full as possible. “S-So big, daddy, so big.”

“Yeah, your little cunt is so fucking stuffed, can feel those eggs against my cock.” He growls, tugging you to spit into your mouth, then he kisses you messily. “You feel them, baby? They feel good?”

You try to nod, the bunny ears slip further before someone else fixes them again. “My holes, daddy—”

“What about our holes? They don’t belong to you, dumb little bunny.” Ari’s head is thrown back with a deep groan and his abs flex, he can feel Curtis between the thin wall inside of you. There’s truly no more space for anyone else—but that won’t stop one of them from trying. 

“Y-Your holes, so small, daddy…” Someone’s hand wraps around your throat, but you can’t tell who with all the fogginess in your head. Their grip tightens, “Your little holes… gonna never close—”

“Good.” It was Ransom judging from the voice by your ear, you feel a tongue drag up your cheek, licking up your tears. “We’ll do whatever we want to your slutty holes, and I will fuck your cunt when someone else is already using it.”

“What are you, baby?” Steve forces your face towards him, he’s red in the cheeks, and the colour spreads down his firm chest. “C’mon, tell your daddies.”

“I’m a—cumdump, your dumb baby, daddy.” Your head is tilted down, just in time to watch Curtis’ spit land where you meet. His salvia lands on your clit, dripping down to the veiny girth of his cock. “I’m yours.”

“That’s right, and don’t you ever forget.”

“Look at her, all cockdrunk. Dumb little omega, just a hole for us.” Ari sucks on your gland, his groans vibrating the patch, he remembers when you used to cry from just half his cock, and now look at you, taking him and Curtis to the hilt at the same time. You’ve come so far, and he’s so proud. “You like getting both your holes fucked at once, baby? Yeah, you do, look at that face.” 

Steve groans, pulling away from your lips before you’re tugged towards Ransom’s mouth. “Not a fucking thought in that pretty head, it’s okay, you don’t need to think. Just need to take our cocks and knots, let us use you whenever we want. You want our babies in your pretty cunt, omega?” 

Normally, you’d snap out of whatever trance and establish those stupid—in their opinions—boundaries about starting a family so early. Even though you were mated, you didn’t want to get pregnant halfway through your college career, but your alphas didn’t care. They’ve discussed the perfect time to switch out your pills, and darling you wouldn’t know the difference until you’re hunched over the toilet. 

“She does, she’s so fucking tight.” Curtis’ fingers dig into your hips, “You finally gonna have our pups, pet? Let us pump this little cunt full, knot you to keep you plugged up. Use you as a personal cumdump.”

You only manage quiet gasps, letting your body be used from almost every end. 

“Our little omega, so good for us, gonna carry all our babies.” Steve’s voice rings tauntingly and he slips a hand between your legs, his rough fingers strumming your swollen clit. “She’s fucking shaking, you still here with us, pet?” He slaps your button in quick succession, taking great pleasure in your convulses. 

Your head lolls to the side as someone taps your temple, “Sounds empty in there—I think we’ve fucked her completely stupid.”

You’re a vision, moving between Steve and Ransom’s messy kisses as saliva falls down your chin to your bouncing breasts which are covered with lovebites. 

Andy watches you cum, your whole body erupting in euphoria as you tremble in Ari’s lap. Curtis leans back, stroking his cock and squeezing the swelling base as the intensely vibrating eggs finally fall out, your squirt covers him from his thighs to his chest. Steve’s hand is shoved away by Ransom who swats your nub wetly, smearing your juices everywhere. Then he’s also pushed away by Curtis who leans down to greedily latch onto your cunt, all while Ari forcibly bounces you on his dick. 

You scream, falling against the long-haired man’s chest, gasping for air as Curtis buries his face into your sensitive pussy, his rough beard scratching your folds. You flail, arms shooting out for something, anything, but Steve and Ransom aren’t done. They keep your grip locked on their angry lengths and fat knots, they come a few seconds apart, their thick seed spurting all over your hands. 

“What a good girl, give Curtis your cream.” Ari rasps against your gland, the spot so tender from his mouth, he sucks in time with Curtis’ on your swollen clit. 

The alpha drinks down your juices, growling like a starved man as you squirt again.

“That’s it, that’s it. Fucking dirty whore, you’re gonna take my cum in your ass, I want you to fucking cry like a dumb little pet.”  

You hiccup, and as soon as Ransom releases your hand, you try to push Curtis away. Your centre is far too sensitive for even a gentle breath, let alone his mouth and facial hair. “N-No more! Please, I can’t!”

He leans back, your wetness covering half of his face, and evident in his beard. His chest heaves, “You do that again, and I’ll make you take all the eggs, got it?”

“Don’t be so mean now, Curtis, you're gonna make her cry even harder.” Ransom chuckles.

The blue-eyed man grabs your throat, bringing you close as your head bobs up and down, the bunny ears half off. “You hear me? Don’t you ever push me away.”

Ari hasn’t let up, still tearing apart your puckered hole. “Yes, yes—” You barely manage as tears flow freely and follow the trails of drool and saliva down your face. You sob and shudder through Ari’s rough thrusts, digging your nails into the bedsheets. 

Ari turns your head and groans loudly, “So pretty when you cry—dirty girl, daddy’s gonna fill you up. You’re gonna take my fucking cum, whore, take it.” He ruthlessly pumps up and his knot pops in, his cum violently shooting against your walls, filling you so deeply, the thick swell keeps him pressed to the hilt, his heavy balls tensing with every spurt. 

The feeling of being filled has you toppling over again. Your body eagerly grinds down against Ari’s twitching length, forcing him deeper and deeper. Lost in the electric shocks, you don’t notice a single thing going on around you. Teetering between worlds, you let them touch you all over, smearing your shared juices, rubbing their cum into your skin, and kissing or licking your tears. 

It’s downright obscene, the exposed skin heaving breaths, and their soft murmurs.  

“Good little pet, you did so good.”

“Fuck, we really used her cunt, huh? What a mess.”

“If she doesn’t close her mouth soon, I’m fucking her throat.”

“Barber, are you done over there?” Steve’s voice is slightly hushed. 

“Yeah, I couldn't get all the angles but it’s good, the perfect little film of Arcadia Phi’s Pet.” 

To your horror, Andy is holding a camera and the lens is pointed directly at you. He grins as he presses the button, and the red light switches off. 

“Said y-you’d ask.. before.” You manage through shivers, both hypersensitive and numb as Ari runs his rough hands all over your body. You blink through blurry vision, “You lied.”

“I know, baby, but you were so out of it, why would I interrupt?” Andy tilts his head, “I wouldn’t want to ruin the show, because then we’d have to do it again. You want to use the eggs again?”

“N-No…” You trail off, it was true. It was more than overwhelming and you’ve only just begun, you can’t imagine what else is in store. With a rapid pacing of your heart, you reach for him, bottom lip trembling as you wonder why he’s so far away, as if he hadn’t betrayed you. “I want—kiss please?”

Andy smiles and crawls on the bed and cups your cheeks. He kisses you sweetly, taking control and massaging your tongue with his. His beard tickles your face, and you find yourself forgiving him in an instant.

It was the same story with all the other men. No matter what they did, you’d forgive them for it. Regardless if it was undeserving, you found it harder to hold a grudge, to be away from the alphas who made you feel like you were on top of the world.

That felt like more of a crime than their threats and overbearing tendencies like you were breaking an unofficial boundary every time you questioned their toxicity and controlling behaviours. 

Whatever it was, they did this to you, and you aren’t angry at them for it. 

The next one to meet your lips is Curtis, his cock still throbbing between his thighs as spit escapes from the corners of your lips, his deep groans filling your mouth. Then, it’s Ransom, he’s less messy than Curtis but far more demanding, you can’t do anything but follow his motions, letting him swallow the air from your throat. Steve is an even ground between them, although he spits into your mouth before capturing your lips, your teeth clash when he tilts his head and kisses you as if you’re all he’s ever wanted.

Which is the truth for all of them. 

As he pulls away, that charming grin plays on his shiny lips. Ari shifts you around and his knot tugs at your rim. “Are you done being a cameraman?”

Andy sets down the camera, having recorded your exchanges with the rest of the men. “You up for it?”

“If it means I get to boss you all around,” Ari smirks, gently pulling out of your creamy hole, his seed dribbles out your ass, down your skin and onto the wrinkled towel below. 

You let out a little sigh at the emptiness, trying to find a position that doesn’t make your soreness more evident, and gives your thoroughly fucked holes a rest. 

“It isn’t any different considering you’re president,” Ransom remarks. 

“Hey, if you want to have a re-election, and lose again, be my guest. I wouldn’t mind another victory celebration.” Ari snatches the device and moves off the bed. His cock is already hardening again and bobbing between his built legs. “Smile for the camera, sweet girl.” You sniffle and try to wipe your face, but Ari tsks. “Don’t do that, I want you to be as ruined as possible.” 

“Always prettiest that way, huh, omega?” Andy hums. 

You shudder as lips land on your gland, softly tonguing the spot. “Y-Yes, daddy… Alpha, should I—do I pose?” 

You never would’ve thought you’d willingly participate in a sex tape or a series of them. It could be the dizziness in your head that pushes you right into their trap—but that’s what this whole thing was. In the beginning, you were naive enough to wander into their cage of stained glass, marveling at the wonders and affections, while right now, you were stupid enough to stay.   

“Yeah, just smile and spread your legs, wanna see how used your holes are. Ah, look at that—the most perfect cumdump, yeah?” He brings the lens to your ruined cunt and ass, giving each a time to shine as your clit twitches, your puffy folds slick and messy, and your puckered hole dribbles with his cum. Then, he captures your shy smile. “There’s my pet, so beautiful.” 

“Especially as a little bunny,” Curtis adds, fondly touching the ears. 

“Look at you, the star of the show, Arcadia’s girl.” Ari grins sickeningly, “For this segment, you’ll be taking Andy in your mouth, and Steve and Ransom at the same time.” He moves back to your soppy holes, his cum getting a special appearance in this little home video once again.

“Okay, daddy.” Your mind fades in and out as Andy kisses up your chest, tasting your sweat before reaching your gland, his soft lips suckling the skin. You're taken under their control, limp against whoever is holding you up. “I’ll be good…” 

“I’m glad, although, I should probably clarify they’ll both be in the same hole.” 

The camera switches to your face to catch your terrified expression, you try to get up but you’re immediately pinned again, this time, flat on your back as Steve forces your legs open. Stroking his thick length, then slapping the bulbous tip on your puffy button. 

Ari sits next to you, ready to get all the angles. “But don’t worry, we’ll still listen to you because you get to choose the hole.” 

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: and there we go !! I hope you all enjoyed that wild ride. I thought the first orgy i’d write would be with the dilfs in Cruel, but this sunny bunny party has been pure filth. Also, nickname spoiler: this reader is called Pet !!

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! Here's the masterlist for this au: 𝐊𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐚

I don’t have an update schedule. As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. Follow my library and turn on the notifications to you can see whenever I post: @onsunnysidelibrary.

[rewritingcanon]

teddy and victoire headcanons because they are such an ‘it’ couple to me:

fairytale sort of love

like teddy would transfigure themselves to look like a prince when they were super young because then vic would get upset at him because how could they be a prince whilst she couldn’t be a princess? and then teddy would just say ‘but you’re already a princess vic’ and yeah. literal disney-like childhood friends to lovers

when teddy went away to hogwarts for the first time victoire was absolutely distraught, and even more so when she found out out he’d been sorted into hufflepuff because she was convinced she would be in gryffindor since she’s a weasley (surprise! she wasn’t!) and got immense separation anxiety

so everyone knew they would get together and that it was only a matter of time, and fleur, being the romanticist she was, was obsessed with teddy.

like if victoire brought any other person back home fleur would be polite but there was always that hint of coldness towards them because why aren’t they the golden-hearted punk enby vic’s been so clearly in love with since she could process what love was????

teddy and fleur are like that rough, has a cracked tooth, part time tattoo artist who constantly smells like nicotine and the pristine middle aged french woman who has casually acheived milestone successes in her youth and always has her hair and makeup done pair and they just binge watch sad, terribly-written romance films together because they are both extremely sensitive and LOVE cliches

also they do each others makeup and victoire gets very sheepish about it sometimes

victoire and teddy were both heartthrobs at school and they had major game, so they didn’t have much trouble getting partners. suprisingly enough they were never that toxic ‘seething-with-envy’ pair of friends. they were actually quite supportive of one another, if not confused at why they got sad sometimes when seeing the other with someone else

james will claim he found out first that vic and teddy were in a relationship, but it was actually dominique, who is leagues better at keeping secrets.

victoire is high strung perfectionist and teddy is a concentrated chaotic mess, but instead of it being a peeve to each other, they simply balance each other out

teddy used to have dreams of victoire leading up to the moment they realised they were in love with her, and sometimes would wake up morphed as her and become incredibly confused (having gender identity issues was not helping their situation)

teddy gets victoire into philosophy, victoire gets teddy into curation. no one ever thought they’d see the day where either things were possible

victoire has an incredibly grumpy designer persian cat called Camille and she only has a soft spot for her and teddy

after a really long and stressful day at work (victoire’s a sub manager in st mungos), teddy will take down vic’s ponytail, and gently brush her hair out as she relaxes on the couch.

teddy is just overall being great spouse material, i could go on about this point by i would have to make a seperate post

its the tattooed blue-haired bruised-knuckles punk x preppy pastelle pink 2000s fem aesthetic couple

its staying up in your room painting your nails or flipping through an old magazine with your cracked phone crammed between your face and shoulder at night as you slowly fall in love with your lifelong best friend over the phone, and you don’t even know it, because this had been going on for years.

teddy fell first, victoire fell harder

this is a couple that wears big chunky platforms and sleek shiny heeled shoes ONLY

teddy is a huge flirter whilst victoire tends to get flustered more easily, but their dynamic switches when it comes down to each other, making victoire the flirty one and teddy the shy one

victoire’s love language is acts of service, teddy’s is all five because he’s perfect (words of affirmation mighttt just top however)

that’s all because this post is already so long. lmk and request if anyone wants hcs on any other couples!

[killingecho]

i think a lot about what would’ve happened if chifuyu never picked kazutora up from jail. honestly till this day i can’t really understand why he did it, but nevermind.

so kazutora would be out on his own, not knowing what to do with this freedom — he only had it when he was with baji and now baji was dead because of him. mikey said that he forgives him — but never showed up to say hi. kazutora don’t have friends — never had them, only baji but then again, baji is dead.

he is lonely and depressed. there’s his blood relatives but kazutora would rather light himself on fire and burn to death than relay on them. and on top of all that, he has no money and of fucking course no one would employ someone who’s been to jail twice due to murder.

and then i think about hanma, who’s been so lost ever since kisaki died. kisaki kept him entertained and hanma can’t stand boredom. can’t stand his own head and his own thoughts — he needs to be constantly numb, unaware of himself. distracted to the point he forgets his own misery.

when he finds out that kazutora is somewhere out there in tokyo, he remembers the valhalla times. kazutora was so different from kisaki and yet as entertaining as him. his madness, bloodlust and pure obsession — it was so tragic and appealing. so easy to manipulate and so fun to play with.

i think he would search for kazutora and i think they’d be together in this weird, toxic dynamic only they could have. projecting their dead lovers into each other, enabling their destructive habits and doing anything at all to stop thinking.

they are both cursed and broken. too pride to rot alone, so they just keep on destroying each other.

that’s it.

[angels-of-death-posts]

Hey sorry if this is a weird question but what are your thoughts on shipping in the AOD fandom? Like for me i dont really like any ships between the main cast (aside from maybe ray/eddie) because they're all like a found family methinks BUT i still like to ask whenever i find AOD people

oh how I have waited for this >:)

(warning this gets very ramble-y toward the end, but I stand by what I said lol)

Personally, I’m not huge on ‘shipping’ per se, but I do love exploring different characters relationships and interactions, and from that I have a few pairings, though most of mine aren’t exactly romantic, because I think throwing in a whole “they do this because they’re in loOove” cheapens the story a bit. More on that later.

1. CATHY + LUCY

of course I had to start with these two, I think they’re the most prominent ship with, like, any in-text evidence. I find Lucy’s devotion and obsession with Cathy to be interesting, but I don’t really think Cathy feels (or even has the capacity to feel) the same. The ep.0 storyline shows a lot of evidence towards this, though we can see that Cathy does take Lucy’s emotions into consideration when she chooses her as her first personal murder, so there may be more to that relationship than meets the eye. Personally, I’m not a huge fan of the power imbalance between the pair, but I still like seeing content for it!

2. CATHY + DANNY

okay. I will admit that this is one of my favorites, but mainly in a these-two-are-both-terrible-people-and-would-be-horrible-for-each-other-but-their-interactions-are-funny kind of way. They are my exception ship in every way, especially with all the content we see of them together in the ep.0 storyline. I like that they are more equal in a sense that they both think the other is beneath them, so their banter is top tier. Also. They are both extremely hot. Together they would be unstoppable but they’d also probably end up killing each other. Underrated ship imo, even if it is toxic as hell and not super romantic (or even platonic lol)

3. EDDIE + RACHEL

I get where the hype for this one comes from, because he says he loves her and they’re around the same age and aesthetically they do look really cute together, but it’s really just not my thing ship-wise. I think that how Eddie’s attachment to Rachel is explored in the games is more to shows Eddie’s personality than anything, and we get to see that he is desperate for something to calls his own. He projects a lot of his own emotions on to Rachel, without much regard for her actual feelings. I get major “nice-guy” vibes from him, and as someone who had a friend in school who put me in a similar situation, which I think is where my icks about these two comes from. That being said, I still love seeing fanart of the two!

4. EDDIE + GIRL (spoilers for ep eddie)

(The girl from episode Eddie) I think I ship these two more than I do eddieray, bc at least the girl in this game wanted Eddie to kill her. I do think the reason Eddie gets so attached to Rachel in the first place is because of his past relationship with the girl, I think Ray became a bit of a replacement for her after she was brought to the building by Danny. Anyways they’re cute together, and there’s even some adorable little sprites of him helping her walk that I love.

5. GRAY + ANYONE FROM THE SERIES

The only person I ship gray with is myself. (JOKING)

(I also don’t see myself shipping Shin from ep.0 with anyone either, but maybe that’ll change as more volumes are released. )

6. DANNY + ZACK

I have seen a surprising amount of content for this one. 10/10 crackship, it makes me laugh every time I see it.

7. CATHY + ZACK

not my thing. Again, weird power dynamic makes it hard for me to enjoy this one even as a joke. I also project a lot onto Zack (lol) and the way Cathy treats him is …. well

8. DANNY + RACHEL

no.

And finally,

9. ZACK + RACHEL

some people will probably be confused as to why I’m bringing this one up on a ship post, but since it’s such a divisive relationship in this fandom I can’t just leave it out ya know? And I have some thoughts on their relationship as a whole so it’s going in the list.

I do NOT ship these two romantically, I think that they fit more into the category of found family, but that even that label doesn’t quite fit the dynamic.

They’re closer than friends but they’re barely even acquaintances. (they’ve known each other for like 3~ days!) They would both die and kill for each other. They understand each other on a level that no other person in their world ever could. Through their shared experiences, they survived layer after layer of hell and challenged “god” in his own church.

I think what’s most profound to me is that the catalyst for their relationship is Zack yelling out a promise he doesn’t even realize he’s making. That’s the only thing that made Rachel choose Zack to kill her over Eddie, and from there we get to watch these two unlikely allies struggle through the first genuine connection either of them has had for years. They’re parallels, and we get more insight to that as they make their way through different puzzles. As the game progresses, we see Rachel’s past get darker and darker, while there is light shed on Zack’s in turn. It really makes you wonder what sort of thing classifies a person as innocent or guilty, and whether you can truly judge a person shaped by their experiences.

Obvious issues of the ZR ship aside, I do get a little annoyed when fans that do ship it water their relationship down to “and then she grew up and they kissed” or some shit like that because I feel like they’ve missed the entire point of the story. Anyways.

Queer-platonic-relationship Zack and Rachel is probably the closest I could describe their relationship to fit my own personal perception of these two. Especially with my aroace Zack hc and the canonical trauma both of them went through at the hands of their parents. I think it would be incredibly hard for either of them to actually have a romantic relationship with anyone, but there’s no way they would ever live without each other if they escaped together and lived in the end.

[hyacinthus-orientalis-linnaeus]

My opinions on various Miraculous Ladybug ships!

*keep in mind that these are all my personal opinions, so don’t even start with the hate*

Adrinette: Would be toxic. Marinette can’t even speak real words around him half the time. Her obsession is honestly unhealthy and they would never last.

Ladynoir: They’re pretty much just the reversed version of Adrinette, just with more identity shenanigans. Chat Noir needs to move on from Ladybug because they’ll definitely work better as friends.

Marichat: Honestly, it’s better than Adrinette and Ladynoir, but a hero/civilian relationship would be too dangerous to work and they’re both into other people.

Ladrien: They’d be too busy tripping over themselves to be in a relationship with each other. Have you seen Adrien as a civilian? The boy has no chill around Ladybug. Also, same hero/civilian issue as Marichat.

Lukanette: Very cute. Marinette crush on Luka is much healthier than her obsession with Adrien. They have many things in common and can have conversations without more than the typical teenage awkwardness.

Adrigami: They understand each other in ways that none of their friends do and their relationship would be great. They can let loose around each other in ways they can’t typically with their parental figures around.

Lukadrien: My favorite Adrien ship! And my favorite Luka ship! I live for them together. They have such a great dynamic and following the show’s own yin and yang logic, Lukadrien would be a more healthy, less obsessive Adrinette in how they compliment each other.

Marigami: You can not tell me that these two don’t have sapphic energy around each other. Marinette’s tendency to question herself constantly and Kagami’s “I never hesitate” attitude, they would compliment each other perfectly (also, see Lukadrien for my yin and yang comparison).

Marcaniel: They are the ultimate couple goals. They are meant to be in all the ways Astr*c tries to claim Adrinette is. Seriously, they’re perfect.

Julerose: Same argument as Marcaniel.

DJWiFi: They’re cute. I don’t get all fired up over them like I do with other ships (see Marcaniel and Julerose), but I like them together.

Mylivan: Same as DJWiFi.

Kimdine: I don’t mind them, but I don’t really ship them either.

Kimmax: I love this ship. What can I say, I love the “best friends to lovers” trope. I just think that they’d work really well together.

Clonath: I don’t like this ship. I just... it seems like it would be a bit toxic with the canon characterization, but even in fanon I don’t ship it.

Chlolix: I can see where people are coming from here, but I personally headcanon Alix as aroace.

Chlodrien: I see them having more of a sibling-type relationship.

Lila x Anyone: I hate it.

If there are any more that I didn’t list that you want me to do, let me know.

[yandere-daydreams]

To be a clown not on main, but i don’t know why, I really love Royalty!Yanderes. Like, I don’t know, maybe it’s the prospect of how Powerful they are, or the fact I have been obsessing with the two topics for 3 whole years, but like. A Obsessive Monarch treating you like their most prized possession, though not enough to make you their Consort. Think About That

tw - nonconsensual relationships, abusive power dynamics, toxic relationships, possessive mindsets, implied harassment.

I think it helps that the yandere in question just might not be very willing to make their ‘special bond’ with their favorite servant anymore public than it already is.

That’s not to say they’re very serious about hiding it, right now. Even if you try to make your time by their side as brief as it can be, even if you try to keep your distance whenever doing so is an option, that never stops them from catching your wrist as you refill their goblet, from calling your name a little too fondly as you trail after them, from pulling you into their lap under the guise of making an otherwise mundane session with their advisors interesting enough to pay attention to, as if you didn’t matter, as if they’d ever done this with any other valet or maid or butler. You hear the way their court discusses you, you see the way their advisors avert their eyes when you enter the room, and you can feel the gratification they take from it, the satisfaction, the power that comes with being at the center of such an avoidable scandal. They could easily avoid it entirely, make you an official consort or propose and make your life a hell of a lot easier, but they don’t seem very interested, in that. They don’t seem very interested in much of anything, honestly, outside of the torment they put you through.

That’s what it is, really, torment. You can stand the hours you spend in their room every night, you can take the demeaning uniforms, the invasive touches, the looming threat of the sword hilted at their belt and all the awful things they’ve done to their subjects for offenses half as blatant as what they’ve let you get away with. You could be alright with that, you could live with it, but the embarrassment's another story entirely, the humiliation, the awareness that they could make this bearable and they never will. They like that you’re at a disadvantage, that to anyone who matters, you’re below them, less important, not worth listening to if anything you say would have... unfortunate implications, for those involved. If you were a consort, you’d have status, you’d have people to listen to you, even if your reach would still be limited. They’d have to share you, let you split your attention between handmaidens and palace tutors, and there would be people to stop them from hoarding you, keeping you to themself, fixing you at their side and treating you as if you’re a pet on a leash, their’s to dote on and discipline as they see fit. They like the power they hold over you, even if they try to hide it under flowery words and terms of endearment. They like that they’re the only one you have to turn to, when the little rumors they cause get out of control.

They like being the only one who’ll ever have access to you, and they’re not interested in giving that up for something as trivial as your comfort.

[diana-berry]

As cute as a lot of the fanon dynamics for most ships are, I wanna be clear that there are VERY few ships in miraculous that I would support in canon. (Lukadrien, djwifi, Julerose, and Marcnath are like the only ones that really come to mind but I’m sure I’m missing a few). I really like a lot of the cute fanart and fanfic depictions of the love square and lukanette but in canon I HATE those ships because pretty much all of them are super toxic and have like a thousand problems. When discussing miraculous (mainly just irl but I might do it more on here) I shit on Marinette a lot while defending Adrien but I want to be clear he is also very creepy at times. Marinette is just way worse about it, but as chat noir Adrien is like… super pushy. Mainly in villain aus I just do villain Marinette because I like the idea of Adrien realizing he was wrong and improving while Marinette fully goes off the deep end. It could easily be the other way around though I just like exploring the former more. I also like Adrien more and he has more of an excuse, doesn’t make it okay though. While Adrien is shown to have a terrible life where no one is teaching him how to act or properly handle love and his feeling, Marinette has a great life. Loving parents who love each other and spend lots of time with her. While Tom and Sabine aren’t perfect they’re pretty good role models. So why does Marinette act like this? Where did she get these stalker tendencies from and who made her think this is okay? Unfortunately it seems like pretty much everyone in her life and even some adults are condoning this behavior and even seem to think it’s cute and romantic. The only time I can remember that someone called her out on it was Alix in gigantitan who said her knowing adrien’s full schedule is creepy, WHICH IT IS! To reply to Alix’s comment, rose goes “I know! It’s so romantic!” I love you rose, but no it’s not. I like the idea of while all her other friends realize as they grow up that this behavior is not okay that Marinette just doesn’t because she’s too obsessed. But back to canon, again the fact that everyone seems to think this is romance and love is BAD WRITING. They’re not intentionally written to be bad or to condone stalking and obsession, they’re just not written well.

To be clear though I mean they’re both 14, they have time to change, I just like exploring darker themes sometimes haha. I’m rambling but the consensus is that both Marinette and Adrien are very creepy and pushy and I don’t exactly even think it’s a character flaw, it’s mostly just bad writing. They aren’t intentionally written to be this way, astruc just doesn’t know how to write characters. Yeah actual teenager can act like this (well more realistically actual teenagers act like Adrien, if actual teens acted like Marinette they’d be in jail), but it’s not generally to this extent. He’s not even trying to write bad characters they’re both supposed to be the good guys, astruc just seems to have trouble recognizing toxic qualities and the fact that they are just that, toxic. The fact that astruc can’t realize this is problematic is just… concerning. He’s a grown man, how does he not realize this? I mean he’s certainly not the only one there’s probably millions of people that think these approaches are romance. But it’s most concerning because astruc isn’t just putting these in bad Twitter pick up artist posts or tik toks on how to make women love you, he’s pumping these ideals into a CHILDRENS SHOW. That’s aimed at like 10 year olds. This show sells merch meant for children. These ideals are being shown to children and it just concerns me that some kids may grow up thinking that what Marinette and Adrien do is romance. Adrien is better than Marinette because mostly he’s just trying to pursue ladybug and flirting can be harmless, unless she asks him to stop. Oh wait! She did. She’s expressed clearly she’s in love with someone else and that she’s not interested, yet chat is still attempting to pursue her. It just worries me that kids will see this and think it’s okay to keep pursuing someone even when they make it clear they aren’t interested. But miraculous isn’t even the only property to do this, it’s actually pretty common unfortunately. But I absolutely do think Marinette is worse. God of that boy knew half the shit she did and wasn’t so nice i think he’d file a restraining order against her. She’s LITERALLY broken into his house on MULTIPLE occasions, she’s snuck into his house like in party crasher which tangent real quick. At the end of the episode nino says that he should’ve just been honest with her and shouldn’t have tried to hide it from her. Which is guess is fair, but there’s not a problem with trying to have a boys only party. I mean the concept of that has… some issues but if they didn’t want her there they don’t owe it to her to let her in. And the fact that she couldn’t just let it go? No, she decided she had to sneak in when she WASNT INVITED. She also does this in Gabriel agreste but I can understand her motives a bit better because Chloe was gonna try and expose her to Gabriel and this would possibly negatively affect Adrien which I agree wasn’t fair so I can understand her wanting to stop this from happening. Still not okay, but I’m more understanding about that. Anyways back to party crasher, nino and Marinette both say that they were doing it for Adrien. But no Marinette, you were not! You were doing it for yourself because you can’t stand him doing something without you. But I mean he does stuff without her all the time why did it bother her so much this time? It’s not like it was a birthday party or something extra special, I mean all that there really was was that “his dad wasn’t there” which like… why would that be a reason for her to want to see him? There’s been plenty of occasions when he was without his dad before and I don’t think she tried to break in then. But more than just breaking in, she’s also like super determined to go to all his photo shoots or events which again… why… HE CAN HAVE A LIFE WITHOUT YOU GIRL. I won’t go on about that, let’s get onto the stalking. Yeah she knows his schedule for like the next three years which with his dad being the way he is I can get why that would exist but my problem is… why and HOW does she have access to it? (Will continue)

[gotobsessions]

Here are my post-emotional-response to e3 ramblings about Killing Eve: 

Okay, I can now see through the utter heartbreak I felt on Villanelle’s behalf at the end of that last episode, and think a little more clearly. I really felt every moment of that episode alongside Villanelle! How suddenly motionless and speechless she was when Eve undressed in front of her, the way she spoke so honestly about how she felt about Eve, and the tentative, tender way she took Eve’s hand - this was all very close to home for me, so I think my response to this episode was perhaps the most visceral response I’ve had yet, which means it IS good writing! 

As we’ve seen time and again, all Villanelle really wants is for Eve to show her that she wants her and make her feel loved, because she feels that Eve is the only person in the world she can truly relate to. This season, she’s no longer bold and forceful with Eve as she was before. Instead, she keeps showing up at Eve’s doorstep and offering herself up, because she wants Eve to give her validation and reward her for trying to be good. Eve however is in a completely different mental state and not willing to give Villanelle anything. I can so sympathise with Villanelle’s feeling of desperately craving the attention of her object of desire and doing anything she can to get it, and fixating on that desire in a time of uncertainty about her own place in the world. The episode took us on the journey of Villanelle’s emotions masterfully, and really set us up to feel the betrayal of it when Eve turned her in. 

On the other side of this toxic coin, I also find myself able to relate to Eve, when I think back on the dynamics of toxic relationships I have been in in the past, and the things I did to feel like I was on top again after having power and control taken away from me. The way Eve undressed in front of Villanelle as a sexual power move, the way she had to stop to catch her breath when she left the room, the way she ran away to the safety of Yusuf’s place immediately, and even why she turned Villanelle in - it’s all making sense to me now. She is playing a cold, calculating character in her own head right now, trying desperately to bypass her emotions and avoid her obsession with Villanelle so she can focus on the task at hand - dismantling The Twelve to get revenge and make sense of it all. She also wants to feel like she has power over Villanelle. She wants to feel in control, because she has felt so entirely out of control ever since she became obsessed with Villanelle, and everything in her life has unraveled. 

We still don’t know what happened after the bridge, and I don’t know if we ever will, but I think ultimately Eve is trying to make everything that has happened worth it. Bill getting killed, losing her work, Niko getting terribly hurt, losing Niko, her becoming a murderer, Kenny getting killed - her whole life becoming a complete clusterfuck, basically - this is her last ditch attempt to enact revenge and make it all worthwhile, before she inevitably meets her ‘death’, as Konstantin foreshadowed in the first episodes. Whether that will be a physical death or a different kind of death, I don’t know! I want to believe that it’ll be a fake death in order to escape, like in the books. The way they’ve made all the promo stuff funeral based makes me wonder if they’d do that and then actually kill either one of them, because that just feels... too obvious, but who knows. 

In my initial emotional response, Eve’s betrayal felt like an ending to what little trust they had built, but we all know, of course it isn’t. We’ve got five (or seven?) more episodes to go, and we know they will end up back together again, because they absolutely cannot stay away from each other, and we’ve seen footage of them together again in the trailers/teasers. I’m actually excited to see how they interact after this betrayal. Maybe it will snap Villanelle out of her delusions of goodness and she’ll return to her old ways. The general plot of each season has always been Eve chasing Villanelle, but this season it has been the other way around, and it’s been so deliciously frustrating. I know we all wanted a whole season of them together, but they were never going to give us that, it was always going to be a ‘will they, won’t they’ to maintain interest. 

After this last episode, I’m trying to look at the chaotic progression of the key emotional moments between them as a whole: Villanelle killed Bill, Eve stabbed Villanelle, Eve ordered a hit on herself just to see if Villanelle would do it, Eve inserted herself into the Aaron Peel situation in an attempt to save Villanelle’s life, Villanelle chose Eve over Aaron even when he promised her the world, but then betrayed Eve by engineering the situation so that Eve would kill Raymond, then Eve rejected Villanelle’s love upon learning this, and Villanelle shot Eve in response to that rejection. Then, they were in limbo in season 3 with Eve supposedly ‘out’ of it all, but she couldn’t stay away, and they had that intense fight and kiss on the bus, proving their love/obsession was very much still alive in spite of everything - stabbings, shootings, killings, you name it. So if there’s anything this show has proven to us, it’s that no matter what happens between these two, they cannot stay away from each other; their mutual obsession always prevails. So ultimately, this betrayal is just another one to add to the list and will soon be forgotten. 

I have a feeling (or maybe it’s a hope) that the show will end with their undying obsession with each other winning, to the detriment of anything and everything else, including their own lives. Maybe that’s what they’ve been working up to, with Eve so obviously avoiding her feelings and her obsession. I’m still excited for the rest of the season!