#before anyone pops a blood vessel

[trashyspud330]

I’m mostly joking but then again not really

[thebibliosphere]

Every time someone well-meaning suggests I see a chiropractor for my migraines, I have this little moment of "ah, you're new here. You weren't here prior to 2018 when a chiropractor very gently adjusted my neck for my migraines, and I ended up having to get an emergency MRI because the ensuing symptoms were indicative of a brain bleed."

It wasn't a brain bleed. The muscles on the entire right side of my neck "just" tore (Spoiler there is nothing "just" about that kind of traumatic injury. I am still in physical rehab for it), and I couldn't hold my head up, see straight, walk or do any of the things I'd previously taken for granted until several weeks later when the area finally started to heal.

This was before I knew I had Ehlers Danlos, btw. But this is true even for people who don't have a connective tissue disorder: Don't let chiropractors touch your neck.

There are a lot of vital nerves and blood vessels there, and even gentle adjustments of the area can have life-threatening consequences.

I know chiropractic care can be pain relieving--I still get it for my lower back and hips because I work with a chiropractor who knows about Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, and sometimes my hips need to be popped back in at short notice, and it's easier to hop walk in and see her than wait for physical therapy--but it is a short-term relief that doesn't actually correct why something is happening.

If you can afford it, physical therapy will likely help more in the long term. I know not everyone can afford it, and that's why chiropractors have such a booming trade in the US, but please, I'm begging you, don't get your neck adjusted.

The spinal cord specialist I saw after my injury told me the number one reason he used to see people for traumatic brain injuries was car wrecks, followed by other major roadside injuries. He said those numbers were still the highest, but after that, the majority of his patients were survivors of chiropractic injury.

Do Not Get Your Neck Adjusted.

It's been over 5 years, and I still can't move my neck properly on my right side. I still struggle to eat and drink because my muscles will randomly seize up. It feels like my skull no longer fits on top of my spine because of the scar tissue. Please. I just want people to be safe.

And if you are a chiropractor reading this and thinking, "Well, I've never injured anyone, skill issue." No. You Have Gotten Lucky. Rethink how you apply your trade. Please, you can still help people while recommending safer options for specific body parts. Learn to do pressure point release and acupressure. Teach patients how to stretch and relax the area safely. Just fucking stop cracking people's necks like pop rock candy.

[artinvain]

in the midsts of hellfire (pt 1) (wc: 3.2k)

pit fighter!vi x reader & sevika x reader

cw: angst and toxic relationship (with vi). smut

the days had blended into a blur for Vi. she knew pain and it was the only thing that kept her sane. every time she sees a flash of blue hair in the crowd she allows her opponent a chance to get her mouth bloody. when she heard the soft lilt of cait’s voice the punch to her gut doesn’t feel like much but it knocks her on her ass and she loses the fight. except vi doesn’t hear the bell toll signaling the end of her match. 

her ears are ringing with the sound of the bomb powder had set off - to kill her. powder, her pow hated her - what had she done? vi doesn’t realise she’s screaming maniacally, tears staining her cheeks as she picks a fight with her opponent. and because it’s the pits - she can and since her opponent is willing - the game continues.

it’s gorey, her back tooth is knocked loose. she pops some blood vessels in her opponent's eye. her hair is matted with blood to her forehead and when she stumbles into your apartment she finally collapses into your waiting arms. 

in her new reality vi had allowed herself only two pleasures - sex and the comfort of a home. she hadn’t bargained for her feelings to grow so exponentially, though she never told you about her past, how it haunted her. and looking up at you as you worry over her, she realised that there could be a time where she tells you that she loves you and truly means it.

you are the prettiest girl in the undercity without a doubt, a flower anyone would love to pick and for some reason you had settled for vi. she still questions you - whether or not you were really on her side. sometimes she waits in the evenings with baited breath for enforcers to barge your door down and take her away. almost every night she imagines it's caitlyn that is at your door.

though looking over at you now, your eyes flitting around under your eyelids, your skin dewy with the heat of vi’s body so close to yours, god she regrets ever dragging you into her shit, you didn’t deserve to be second place to anyone. vi could appreciate how great you were, but she promised herself she would never let her love break anyone else. and yet, here she is, about to do it again.

“baby,” she whispers, her calloused hands brushing your cheek and easing you awake with kisses to your neck and jaw. “I need you, please wake up” she breaths into your ear, her lips tasting yours before you can interject and still you do - 

“are you sure?” your voice laced with sleep and still under that - lust. she wondered how it is that you managed to care so deeply for her when she was so withholding. 

“I’m patient,” you had told her when vi said she wasn’t ready for a relationship. you waited for months for her, let her cry in your arms. you let her tell you about her exploits - she was trying to make you jealous and when she had enough - vi came home to you and let you have her.

“I’m sure,” she breathes, clambering between your legs as you open them for her. “I love you,” she chokes out between kisses to your throat and it’s all you need to let go. vi rarely said it and to you, that meant when she did say it - she really meant it - really needed you. so you let her have you.

In the morning you wake up to a note pinned down by a small bag of coins. 

“gone back to pits, buy something nice,” 

you rolled your eyes - even on a saturday, vi remains relentless.

you take yourself to the last drop after your shift and you’re glad it’s still empty considering it was a saturday afternoon. it always was when you and sevika planned to meet. you didn’t know sevika had bought out half the bar so that it was emptier for you. she knew you hated crowds and she didn’t want half of zaun oogling at you - as if you didn’t get that enough on a daily basis. no one would know she did it because she was jealous, she didn’t want a full bar dividing your attention between her and the rest of the world. nor did she want her men to see how her eyes softened around you.

The two of you were unlikely friends, that is because sevika isn’t really friends with anyone but you. sevika adored you, the only girl who actually made her laugh, you were the only girl who looked at her like you wanted to hear what she had to say - not because you were afraid or being paid. sevika’s soft spot for you deepend every time she saw you. 

when you plop down beside her in the booth, she lets you see a small smile. her stretched lips showing off the tiny gap between her teeth you often told her made her so pretty. no one ever called sevika pretty and it made her blush every single time. 

“you smell nice,” she whispers, handing you a joint and lighting it for you as you bring it to your lips. “I smell like kitchen grease, which is incredible because i don’t even work in the kitchen,” you laugh and sevika exhales gently through her nose. “still smell like flowers,” she mutters and before you can reply - “how’s vi,” sevika spits her name like it’s hot ash in her mouth.

you were well aware of sevika’s dislike of your girlfriend though she never explained it to you and vi never liked to talk about sevika. Of course she had wanted you to stay away from “the scariest lady in zaun” but if she didn’t listen to your warnings about getting her face beaten in  every day. you decided you didn’t need her approval on who to trust.

sevika masked her dislike for vi with the fact that you always seemed so sad because of her. not because she was head over heels in love with you. of course, vi had no idea you were so close with sevika and sevika used that to her advantage. she could be a sounding board for all your relationship issues and all it did was give sevika material on how to be a better girlfriend to you. because there was no way sevika was letting this shit go on any longer.

“she’s fine - she’s just -”

“absent? was she mean when she got back from the pits again this time?” sevika grunts and passes you the joint as you scoff at her. Even though she didn’t treat you right your eyes told her how much you cared about her. she wondered if you would look at her differently after she’s done with vi.

“no vika, that doesn’t happen that often-”

“but it happens” sevika interrupts you and doesn’t back down when you give her a look. “I hate what she does to you,” she continues. 

“I don’t know why she treats you the way she does, but you don’t deserve it bunny,” sevika smiles when you stop scowling. you loved it when she called you that, curled her arm around your shoulder like she is. It made you feel safe and allowed you to be fragile as you were. and every time you sink into her chest, it takes all your strength not to let those feelings bubble over. the one’s you’d been denying since the moment you met sevika. you swallow down your guilt at the way your heart flutters when sevika gently caresses your cheek.

sevika knew it would break your heart, to hear the enforcers banging on your door - see the way that vi looks at caitlyn when they finally find each other again. at first sevika wanted to turn vi over to regular enforcers and see her shut in a cell again - serves her right for getting out and trying to turn zaun upside down.

it pissed sevika off - vi on her high horse as if she had never done a bad thing to survive. she waltzed in and halted sevika’s plans to turn zaun around with her anger and childish violence. If the girl had taken even a moment to talk to sevika then she would have known that the brutish woman had a plan to save her home after all. 

“I know you don’t like her, but thank you for always hearing me out,” you say, taking sevika’s hand and now she’s no longer thinking about vi. only how supple your hand in hers is, the look of your soft lips as they shape her name. 

“I’d do anything for you bunny,” sevika noses your forehead and gingerly presses a kiss there. your breath hitches, your face rising to look up at sevika as she looks down at you. sevika can heart her heart pumping in her ears, her face heating with need and your proximity. 

“I love you,” sevika says softly, she’d never said it before, to any other woman and she doesn’t know how or why she lets it slip. but when your lips stretch into a grin, she takes a deep breath. 

“I love you too sevika,” you bury your face in her neck and pull her arms over you in a hug. a poo attempt at masking the sincerity sevika already saw in your eyes and heard in your voice. you both knew what it meant, and that something should change or you should jump apart like teenagers being caught kissing but you don’t.

It feels more natural than it ever has, the way sevika’s hand comes to rub up and down your back, the sky kiss you lay to her cheek. her hand playing with yours in her lap.

“I should get going,” you pull back with an air of sadness and sevika packs the left over joint in a bankie for you. 

“I’ll see you friday,” she replies and sits back in the booth to watch you go.

you’re shocked to find vi sitting on your couch when you get home. she doesn’t look up when you greet her. Instead she trains her eyes on the opposite wall, her pocket knife clicking in her hand as she skillfully plays with it. you sit on the couch beside her and gently lay a hand on her thigh, she tenses.

“you were with sevika,” she says finally, and you take a deep, nervous breath. had anyone seen you two together? had they seen how close you were?

“someone told me you were at the last drop today,” you exhale relieved that that’s all she has to say. you nod your head and try to say what you had practiced for this scenario, but vi doesn’t let you get a word in before she’s throwing your vase across the room with a yell.

“do you have any idea how stupid that makes me look? she is for everything im fighting against,” she yells and you furrow your brows,

“you don’t know her like i do, she’s trying to fix things.” your voice is shaky but the statement is bold. you know sevika, and she hadn’t told you everything but you know enough to confidently say sevika wasn’t ever just silco’s lackey. she was powerful and smart and making changes in zaun – starting with a centre for shimmer recovery.

“excuse me?” vi asks, anger making her breath shudder. 

“I’m just saying you have no idea what’s going on in zaun anymore, your head is still in the ring vi, it always is,” you say.

and you’re right because vi can hear the toll of the bell in her head, the fight had started and she was feeling jealous and cruel. 

“you don’t know how stupid you’re going to look when she drops you for someone who will actually open their legs for her. or maybe you’re easier than i thought,” she spits without looking at you but she can hear your jaw drop with a gasp.

she’s half expecting you to fight back. tell her she was being an asshole - that she was still in the pits. the usual and instead she’s filled with dread at you silence. 

“I think you need a few days alone,” you say as you stand and go to put your shoes back on. vi jumps up to follow you to the door,

“are you really just going to leave me? like everyone else?”

you pause and turn to look at her. 

“I don’t think you want me here,” you say, gently clasping your hands over vi’s and she drops to her knees, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. her arms wrap around your legs and she starts to cry into her belly.

“please don’t leave me,” she whimpers, resting her cheek against you. Your hands come to mindlessly play with her hair. 

what she really wanted to say was “please don’t leave me cait,” 

but you weren’t cait. you stayed. you were a placeholder that vi has grown dangerously attached to and she wondered now about finally sending that message to cait - whether or not she should do it. because maybe this is better, maybe this is what she deserves and her only reprieve is you - her angel.

“I’m sorry, i’m so sory i fucked up,” vi screws her eyes shut and holds you tightly her voice more honest than it ever has been.”i promise you things will be different, please just - please don’t go,” you try to pull vi’s arms off of you but she tightens her grip and you’re not in any position to challenge her strength.

“vi, you’re hurting me,” you grunt, but her arms stay locked. pain is the only way vi had ever known love. so surely, surely vi believed there was a part of her that could love you, get over cait and focus on you, on her new life.

a resounding knock echos in your apartment and the door handle rattles with effort to open in it. 

“vi?” 

at first she thinks she’s imagining it. but then cait is screaming her name, banging on your door and vi gets up past you, shoving you behind her and opening the door.

you know with the look in her eyes that vi never intended to stay, or to love you like she promised. she was filled with real calm, relief that you had never seen before. Neither of the girls take notice of you when they embrace, even less so when they kiss and by the time vi realises what she’s done, you’re moving past her into the street.

“no, no wait,” she runs after you and cait locks your door to follow her. vi pulls you back by your arm before you can duck into the crowds moving in the streets. 

“It’s not what you think,” she sighs and she gives a look to caitlyn when she scoffs. 

“This is - she’s from my past and -”

“and you’re in love with her, that’s where your mind has been this whole time - not in the pits - with her.” you frown with the restraint of keeping your tears back. 

“I don’t ever want to see you again,” you swallow and wretch your hand from hers. caitlyn’s hand is on vi’s shoulder as she tries to pull her away from you.

“we have to go vi, now,” caitlyn looks around the streets wearily.

you nod your head, “go,” you say, 

“I’m coming back for you,” vi says, as she starts to back away with caitlyn. her words thinning with the distance between the two of you. “I promise,”

and then she’s gone.

***

when you get to sevika's home you stumble into her arms, tears never-ending as you blubber and she hates to see you in pain. but it worked. cait had taken the bait and vi was gone for good.

she held you in her arms until you could breathe, and instead of falling asleep like she assumes you will, you're turning your face upto her from her chest.

"vika," you breathe and sevika's heart flutters at the need in your voice - "make me forget,"

sevika handles you into her lap and presses a

kiss to your mouth with vigour. She moans at the taste of you when she finally licks into your mouth. Your hips grind down on hers and sevika whines, so embarrassingly close to cumming and she has to reach under your top to grope your tits. she tastes your groans as she rolls your nipples between her fingers and loves the weight of your tits in her hands. 

“never letting you go,” she groans into your neck as she turns you over in one swift movement, her muscles taking all of your weight and she appreciates you beneath her. Your soft hips and thick thighs pressed around her hips. She can’t help when she claws your clothes away from your body.

“m’sorry bunny, just need to see you - you’re so beautiful,” she moans, kissing down your body, “finally get to taste you,” her words of praise for your taste muffles as she buries her head in between your thighs and sucks your clit into her mouth.

you moan, all thought of vi clearing your mind as sevika sinks two fingers into you, curling them - “god you’re so fucking wet, and so needy for me,” she groans feeling you tighten on her fingers. “fuck fuck, m’gonna cum,” sevika whimpers and the sound alone from her - so vulnerable and soft beneath you, you’re cumming and so is she, feeling and tasting your pleasure.

she’s quick with the way she tears her own clothes off and secures her strap to herself. “I love you, and i will never let you go,” she whispers as she sinks into you. Her eyes trained on yours - lids lowered as you look up at her.

“I love you,” you gasp as she snaps her hips against your gspot, sevika smiles and pulls you in close so that your foreheads are pressed together. sev can feel your pussy pulling her in, the base of her strap rubbing and bumping up against her clit so deliciously.

“you’re mine,” sevika moans and you whimper in agreement, “yours, please cum with me” your words slurred as sevika speeds up her hips and holds your thigh up. “you’re so beautiful,” she gasps, looking down at you and when your back arches, you both cum with a groan, moaning and whining - bodies sweaty and intertwined. 

“I could die happy now,” sevika groans after taking the water she’d given you and taking a sip herself, 

“shut up…” you laugh and start to play with her hair, her head resting on your belly, she presses occasional kisses there. “how long have you-”

“since the day i met you,” she replies. 

***

In caitlyn’s hideout, vi can’t keep her head straight. her eyes trained on your little red tracking do at sevika’s home. 

“come to bed,” cait whispers, her hand gently squeezing vi’s shoulder. she swallows down her jealousy and tries to pull vi to bed. 

“In a minute,” she says quietly, waiting to see if you would move though you hadn’t in the last four hours.

“I thought you’d be excited to be home,” cait snaps against her better judgement and vi has to restrain herself, cait isn’t sued to the monster she is now and she didn’t think now would be the right time to introduce her. 

“you’re right,” she huffs and puts her phone down, vi steps away from the window and follows caitlyn to bed. 

vi thought it would be different. Whenever she imagined this moment, she was always happy and probably fucking and safe but all she felt now was empty, and a longing pull for something familiar. you had seen all the darkest parts of vi and still loved her, and she didn’t know now, why or how she ever imagined she could let you go.

sevika tags: @archangeldyke-all @sexysapphicshopowner @sevsbaby @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @opropheticsoul @ariariarr @femme-historian

[17020]

RULE OF THIRDS

high school is home for a lot of things, including jealousy and drama. My ex's misery is your enjoyment this time! this is love triangles, with the wind breaker men. warnings for manga spoilers (last blurb), drinking, ooc ume (sawrryyyy) !! tagging @kaiser1ns !!

A NIGHT OF REVELATIONS.

REN KAJI, featuring TOMA HIRAGI

ren kaji set aside his ego and pride to attend some afterparty because he knew you would be there. that meant a lot.

and at first, everything was… fine? he stepped out of his comfort zone, headphones down as he listened to the beats of the music which played over the speakers. his eyes met yours, with you linking your pinky with his.

"what? you wanna dance with me?" he questioned, his tone almost accusatory. it was what he wanted more than anything, yet he made it sound as if it was your desire. the mere thought of your skin grazing his made his heart want to burst out of his chest.

"you want me to dance to feid? no fucking way rennie, i don't dance to that. plus, you should take care of toma, he's on another planet."

sure, the song was ass, yet he still felt his heart shatter. he watched as you waltzed away, heading towards your friend group to chat. kaji turned his head to the side, only to find his upperclassmen staring back at him. his bloodshot eyes were puffy, lips pursed before he raised an almost empty bottle of god-knows-what to his lips.

great. now he has to babysit.

when he sat down next to hiragi, kaji had a bad feeling.

“m’gonna do it tonight, kaji.”

call it foresight, or a crazy good intuition, but ren kaji knew his heart would sink this very night. “good” he hummed. it was the only thing to come out of his mouth, as he felt his stomach churn from the anxiety.

“ya sure ya don’t feel anything for her?”

“all good” he squeaked, “let me know how it goes.”

when he found you a while later, kaji was stunned. there you were, drunk out of your mind and blowing smoke out of your pretty lips, body swaying to one of fanny lu's greatest hits.

with kota. fucking. sako.

it was a night of revelations, seeing as the once grumpy blond had a tiny smile on his face, mouthing the lyrics to don juan while facing you. his stiff body was now in sync with yours, chuckles escaping your lips as you commented on how great of a dancer he was.

kaji saw you stumble, and he took that as a sign. he knew he had to care for you. that, and the fact that he also had to get you away from sako, for his own mental wellbeing. with his hand getting ahold of yours, kaji guided you to a more secluded space of the patio, patting your head and asking if you're okay.

"you should go home, yn. you've had enough to drink."

when he asked to hang with you the day after, kaji was wary. sitting down next to one another in one of cactus bakery's booths, he sighed.

"you got home safe?"

"mhm."

"you didn't dance with me."

"yeah, i didn't."

"you did with sako, though."

resting your head on his shoulder, you laughed. "fanny lu is certainly not denied to anyone! if you had chosen another song other than feid's, i certainly would've danced with you, rennie."

a small smile appeared on his face as his mind raced on about what could have been the greatest night of his life, only to come back to his senses after he realized it could have been someone else's.

"anything else happen?"

"yeah" you shrugged, "hiragi texted me this morning, said he liked me."

he froze. since when was he hiragi to you?

"…well, what'd you say?"

ren kaji thought he was going to die.

"turned him down. he's like a brother to me, and i made that abundantly clear. he took it well, so that's that! he thanked me for being so mature about it."

last night was now certainly the greatest night of kaji's life, as he realized he still has a chance.

WHEN ONE STORY CLOSES, ANOTHER OPENS.

HAJIME UMEMIYA, featuring JO TOGAME

hajime umemiya was going to pop a blood vessel when he saw none other than shishitoren's second-in-command's hand holding yours, noses nearly grazing each other as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. your giggles, which were once his favorite tune, were now like nails on a chalkboard.

because it was togame who made you laugh.

his anger was indetectable, a smile plastered on his face as he observed the way in which you laughed at his jokes, how you tilted your head to the side and looked at him with those alluring eyes of yours, how you reached out to him when talking.

screw that, it was so obvious that umemiya was fucking jealous, as his eyes were squinted, his face had an expression of disgust, and one could swear that his left eyelid was trembling.

when you went to him a few days later telling him you had exchanged socials with togame, umemiya simply nodded with a smile on his face, congratulating you on how well things were going. he thought his soul was going to leave his body.

"he said he used to play street ball, and he played as a striker, and he wants to play volleyball with me! can you believe that, ume?"

"that's great, y/n! y'know i used to play street ball too, i was well-known for that back in the day, i used to play for my middle school as a striker" he grinned, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "i could teach you to play both sports if you'd like! you wouldn't have to hop onto shishitoren turf that way."

hajime umemiya was utterly adorable.

that same night you received a text.

UME !! <3 This Thursday me and my siblings are gonna play ball! You wanna join?

umemiya's t-shirt fit you like a glove.

having little attire for a match, umemiya offered to gift you one of his shirts for you to play in, and the white and baby blue stripes made you look fantastic. to him, you were an angel sent from heaven to bless his eyes, as well as the football 'field'.

after playing like total lunatics, umemiya sat down cross-legged in the middle of the park's grass, you laying down and having your head resting on his thighs.

what umemiya wanted to do in that moment was kiss you senseless.

"hey ume… can you help me with something?"

"sure thing."

"togame's sort of being a bit pushy, and i don't have any interest in him at all. can you take a picture with me so that he'll shoo?"

his eyes sparkled more than the world's most expensive diamond. he excitedly nodded, asking you to open your phone's camera as he gently moved so that he laid beside you, resting his head on your shoulder and his arm wrapped around your waist.

click!

umemiya felt like the luckiest man in the world when he found out togame had seen your story with him and had suddenly ghosted you.

GOOD PEOPLE, GOOD DEEDS.

HARUKA SAKURA, featuring YAMATO ENDO

when haruka sakura heard of a certain someone's temporary return to furin, he thought nothing of it. except for when that certain someone came waltzing up to him after seeing him interact with you a few minutes prior, a smug smile on his face.

"so, sakura! mind slippin' me her number?"

"huh?"

"yeah! that girl you were talking to before, she's totally my type."

"and why the hell would i do that?"

endo laughed as he placed his arm on sakura's shoulders, seeing how the boy in question's face turned beet red. "because, sakura, you're a good person! good people do good deeds!"

there was no way in hell haruka sakura was giving him your number. matter of fact, he didn't budge!

so why in the fuck were you giggling in front of him at pothos, telling him yamato endo was in your messages asking you out to breakfast?

sakura's eye started to twitch as he asked how he got your number, nearly spitting out his omelette rice when you told him nirei had given him your number. when you told him that endo was planning on coming to furin on saturday to meet up with you, his face became a newfound shade of red. whether it was from anger or from endo's affection towards you, he did not know.

friday came by, and to sakura's surprise…

"oh gosh, haru!"

"what's going on?"

"endo cancelled breakfast, said he couldn't make it since he's on his turf and can't come to bofurin's."

"'s a shit move to cancel last minute."

"but, tsubaki told me there's a party over at keisei street tomorrow night. wanna come with? i don't wanna go alone."

sakura's ears and cheeks were flushed as he stuttered a reply: a meek and simple 'yeah'. you smiled as you wrapped your arms around sakura, too excited to even let him react. when saturday night came around, you thought you were going to die.

yamato endo was in keisei street, grinding on another girl as he asked for her number.

your jaw dropped to the floor. to your surprise, sakura was even more enraged than you were. grabbing your wrist, he dragged you over to a bench, sitting you down and placing your head on his shoulder.

"let it out."

confused, you asked what he meant by it. he laid his head on top of yours, with you feeling how his stiff body slowly softened as he sighed.

"i said let it out. yer obviously hurt by that asshole, so let it out."

your sobs were swallowed by the blaring music, but for some reason, the sadness quickly faded away, instead being replaced with a sense of tranquility. as if you belonged there, with sakura by your side.

sakura was sure that yamato endo was a good person, doing him a favor by leaving you all to himself.

note. this is for my boyfriend. this is what you get for calling me your stinky poo. i am not a poo. the poos are your friends who tried to get with me later on. or perchance the poo has been you all along, because you did not give one shit that they liked me and you made your move. love always, your princess.

update 15/10: this is for my ex. you deserved this because you're a piece of shit who literally (allegedly) got with your best friend's (the character behind endo) girlfriend. fuck you you piece of trash.

[eldritch-spouse]

*me accidentally summoning a demon, using a ritual I didn’t know would work*

*trying to shove them back through the portal before they can fully emerge.*: sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry-

[You rolled a 1, that demon is Mervin.]

You have the audacity to summon him during his after-work bath. Summon him with enough resources that he's not given the option to deny it.

Mervin yells hard enough to probably startle his brothers as the water floods out, supernaturally splashed away from the tub, where a large rift now sucks him into the surface. He's afforded no inch of dignity or self-respect, thrown into a lopsided summoning circle naked, wet and cold.

The first thing he sees after catching his breath and rattling at the temperature is a human. This small, insignificant bug frozen in place like a deer entranced by headlights.

And then, before he can even bark a word, you're trying to shove him back into a closing rift by the top of his head. What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!

Idiot that you are for touching the demon you summoned without establishing a deal first, Mervin can very easily grab your forearm and yank you into the circle, effectively throwing you off and avoiding getting a limb amputated when the rift finally zips closed. Just the mere realization that you could have gravely harmed him in that stunt has the pride demon snarling from the chest, loudly enough to make you scoot back, still spewing apologies and clutching your likely injured arm.

He's seeing red.

It's not long before he's squatting to pull you towards him, hearing none of your frightened bleating and snagging a flailing ankle that is used to reel you close forcefully. A purple figure looms over yours, droplets of water staining your clothes as Mervin studies your paralyzed form from top to bottom. There's nothing about you remotely serious enough to indicate you know what you just did. In fact, you look like a complete buffoon that somehow got their grubby hands in a summoning grimoire. He's so angry he thinks a blood vessel is going to burst.

" Idiot! Moron! Brainless, mumbling child! " He growls, knowing damn well you're a grown human. He'd expect this out of a stupid teenager.

" I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'msorryI'msorry-! " You keep heaving like a chant, cheeks heated, palms limply bared.

Mervin has to snap you out of the fit. An index and thumb pinch soft cheeks until you mouth has puckered into an 'o'. " What. Do. You. Want? " He warns.

" Wh... What? "

The claws tighten their hold, piercing into skin gratuitously enough to make you whine and squirm. You're not so annoying when you're quiet. Pretty, even, for a human. He catches himself staring at your lips for longer than he should and frowns. " Why did you summon me, you half-witted maggot? "

" I didn't- Didn't mean to. I didn't think it'd work! "

In that moment, Merv can only shriek internally. This will take so much longer than he thought possible. Honestly, he could just kill you. End the encounter, find a way back home. But... You're cute enough to bully some, especially after how you've inconvenienced him. Might as well get some entertainment out of you.

" There are sewer rats more dignified than you. " He mutters, then harshly rolls you out of the circle before standing tall.

You're confused, naturally, cowering under his judgemental stare and trying to appear minimally composed. " ... Now what? "

He wants to bite you.

" Now you make a deal with me, dumbass. " He flicks water droplets off his shoulder.

" But I don't kn- "

" I don't care! Finish this! "

" Well... " Your fidgeting hands shake, your throat sounds dry. " What kind of services do you provide? "

Mervin looks at the ceiling so the urge to choke you doesn't overwhelm him. " Would it kill you to read before inviting the demonic into your home? Lords, if I knocked on your skull there'd be an echo, wouldn't there? "

You only shuffle your feet closer, looking away.

" I'll kill anyone you want. "

Your eyes nearly pop out your sockets. " N- None of that! "

" I'll ruin the reputation of someone you know. I'll make people worship you. I'll frame- "

" Stop- Stop please, I don't want that. " Your meek interruption has Mervin stalling. Humans are usually easily swayed by rather simple suggestions, you must really be in the wrong side of witchcraft to look this scandalized.

He shakes his head, pinching his brow ridge. " Suggestions? "

" Can't... I dunno, can't you just watch a movie with me tonight? Like, I didn't mean for any of this to happen- "

" You want me to watch a movie with you. " Mervin interrupts, unreadable.

" ... Yes, please? "

" And what am I getting in return? " Any self-respecting pride demon would honestly have torn you to shreds by now.

If you weren't stumped before, you are now. It's clear you're not going to come up with anything in the next five minutes, which Mervin can't be fucked to wait through.

" Clothes. And you're serving me for a full week. " He provides.

The gasp you let out almost endears him. " S- Serving you?! "

" This is beyond disrespectful, I should gut you, but I'm offering you a place as my servant for a week. " The demon huffs. " Take this as the mercy you know it is. "

There's a pause.

" Okay... "

You fucking idiot.

Mervin grins for a moment. The deal has been struck (very poorly, might he add), so he can now properly step out. The first thing he does is sit on your couch, legs crossed, an impatient yet mildly self-satisfied tail swaying around.

You scurry like a terrorized house cat, he hears you devastating a closet, eventually coming back with a long robe, who you shakily offer to the mid-ranker. Mervin rips it off your hand and allows himself some modesty, finally, leaning back with his eyes fully closed. This will do as minimal relaxation. Not as good as his bath, but passable.

Fortunately, you make the wise decision not to sit too close to the demon, reaching to open a bag of popcorn on the coffee table. His nose crinkles at the noise. " What are we watching, human? " He prods.

" Uhh, the Star War- "

" No. Pick something else. "

Mervin peeks at you nervously channel surfing, smirking to himself.

This next week's going to be so amusing. If he can keep his no-good brothers out of it.

[emmg]

Imagine for a second everyone ends up happy and Lavellan and Solas get back together. Cue Dorian popping a blood vessel.

Dorian: “You’re back with this fuck?"

Lavellan, flustered: "I can explain—"

Dorian: "With this living omelette?"

Lavellan: "It's not—"

Dorian: "This balding crypt keeper with the emotional range of a brick wall and a wardrobe that makes him look like a discount drapery store threw up on him? The same one who poofed away after saying some cryptic shit about I WiSh iT CoUlD vHenAn?"

Solas: “The mark would have—"

Dorian: "Shut the fuck up, cue ball. I don't care if the mark was going to explode, you still look like you wash your clothes in your own self-pity. And you—" jabs a finger at Lavellan, "what’s your excuse? Has it really been so long that the sight of a naked skull and endless 'mystical' speeches turned you on again?"

Lavellan: “It’s more than that—"

Dorian: "More than that?! He abandoned you, took your fucking arm, and now you’re letting him back in your bed? Are you out of your mind or just starved for terrible decisions? You could’ve had anyone. But no, you pick the fade's worst motivational speaker.”

Solas: “Master Pavus, this is between—”

Dorian: “Oh no, don’t even try that ‘Master Pavus’ nonsense with me. You’ve got the emotional depth of a wet mop and a sex appeal that makes a mud pit look enticing. And yet here you are, again, trying to guilt-trip your way back into her pants with your world-saving speeches. What is it, Solas? You gonna whisper sweet nothings about 'the averted apocalypse' this time? Maybe throw in a lecture on why she was just not woke enough to understand your big, tragic plan but it's fine since everything worked out?"

Rook and Emmrich in their happy, non toxic relationship: :0

Solas: "Dorian—"

Dorian: "No, no, shut the fuck up. Seriously, what do you even do that’s remotely appealing? What did you do for the past ten years? Did you just sit there, staring at a wall, philosophizing about how it’s not 'connected to the Fade' while Lavellan was over there, not that far, mind you, actually trying to live her life?"

Lavellan, miserably: “Dorian, please—"

Dorian: "Do you know how many tears she cried over your wrinkly, bald ass? The sleepless nights? And for what? So you could show up with the same damn sad expression, like a dog that got kicked, expecting her to fall right back into your arms? Well, congratulations, you manipulative little twat, it worked. You got her again. But if you think for one second I’m going to sit here and let this farce play out without letting you know exactly what I think—"

Solas: “This is not your concern—"

Dorian, grinning viciously: "Not my concern? Oh, it’s my concern now, you ancient, egg-headed disaster. You took her arm, and now, what? You’re back for the other one too? What’s next? Gonna steal her dignity too? No, wait—" He flips both of them off. "You already did that. Honestly, Lavellan, were you that desperate? Did your standards drop so low that this walking mid-life crisis seemed like a good idea AGAIN?"

Lavellan, trying to hide: "I just thought—"

Dorian: "No, no, you didn't think. You never think when it comes to this pointy-eared monk reject. You just let him walk all over you with his cryptic, brooding bullshit and now here we are—again. Tell me, Lavellan, how many bad life choices does it take before you finally learn not to open your legs to misery?"

Lavellan: “Dorian—”

Dorian, rounding on Solas: "You’ve got some nerve coming back, Solas. You with your ‘oh woe is me, I didn't fix the world so I'll ruin this woman's life instead again’ schtick. And for what? What do you even have to offer besides a fucking headache and a masterclass in celibacy?”

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Tylo Oneshot

“We’re gonna let you guys hang out in pairs,” said one of the doctors to Tyler. “To let you guys check on each other and all that.”

Tyler scoffed. “How generous of you..” he hissed sarcastically. 

The doctor didn’t bother with a response and left the room, leaving Tyler on his own again. He laid back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. 

Please bring me Taylor.. I need to know if she’s ok.. please, please…

The door creaked open and Tyler jolted up to see his sister. Only.. it wasn’t her. 

“Tyler!” Logan cried out, halfway to tears. 

“Logan!” He exclaimed in surprise before glaring at the doctor. “No! Bring me my sister!!!”

“Ms. Hernandez is currently with Ms. Banner. Complaining will get you nowhere.” The doctor closed the door and Tyler slammed his fist into the wall. “Damnit!”

Logan gave him a look of embarrassment and shame. “I’m.. sorry..”

Tyler looked up at him and suddenly felt guilty. “No, no.. it’s not you, Logan. I just.. Taylor-“

“Is your sister. I understand..” Logan tried to force a smile. He really didn’t understand. He was an only child and was never really close to one specific person..

Tyler sat on the bed and buried his face into his hands. “This place is driving me nuts..”

Logan hesitated before eventually sitting next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Well.. look on the bright side! At least now neither of us are alone!”

Tyler looked up and couldn’t help but feel a little lighter upon seeing Logan’s smile, even if it was a forced one. 

Logan was one of the few people he couldn’t really bring himself to be annoyed with. He’s too nice and the idea of yelling at him felt like it would be the equivalent to kicking a puppy (unlike with Aiden who feels like a mosquito he needs to bash into a wall). 

“Thanks, Logan..” he said with a sigh before lying back. “So what should we do? Not many forms of entertainment here other than the tv. And they’ve only, got, like, 3 channels. The news, Disney Junior, and The History Channel. Unless you wanna watch Ancient Aliens?”

Logan wrinkled his nose at the mention of Ancient Aliens. “Unless you wanna see me pop a blood vessel, I recommend turning on anything but that.”

Tyler was surprised by the almost passive aggressiveness on Logan’s voice. He let out a soft air of amusement and set the remote down. “Fair enough, astrology nerd.”

“Ugh, I study astronomy, not that fake, wishy-washy stuff that only exists to give boring people personalities.”

Tyler barked out a laugh. “Dang, ok! Wasn’t expecting that! Yknow, Taylor believes in astrology. Listens to horoscope podcasts and everything.”

Logan let out a dejected sigh. “Don’t remind me. She once asked for my star sign so she could check my compatibility with everyone in the group. If it was literally anyone else asking me for that, I would’ve stomped off right then and there. But Taylor’s nice to me, so I just gave in..”

“You have a lot more bite to you than I first thought.. guess I don’t hang out with you as much as I should..” 

Logan smiled softly at that. “Aha.. ya, well.. I’m not too fun to hang out with on my own.. but.. maybe..”

The two sit there for a moment, Tyler tapping on his wall dejectedly, wishing he could see his sister..

“I’m sorry..” Logan says under his breath. 

“Huh?” Tyler looked over at him. “For what?”

“Me being the reason you can’t see your sister..”

Tyler sucked in air through his teeth and looked down, ashamed. “Look, Logan, really, I’m not upset they brought you in instead-“

“But it really is my fault.”

“Huh? Whaddya mean?”

“I.. asked them if they could bring me to see you..” he admitted quietly. 

Tyler stared at him, processing his words. All he managed to say was “Huh?”

“I.. I wanted to see you.. because.. this.. this whole thing is terrifying!” There was a pause, all could be heard was the ticking of the clock. “And you.. you’re so confident all the time. For some reason your aggression, even in stressful circumstances, it’s oddly.. comforting? Like, at least there’s one person there who is expressing that they’re feeling anything but fear, yknow??”

Tyler still couldn’t find words. No one had ever described his aggression as comforting. Annoying, yes. A problem, he’s heard that hundreds of times. But comforting? That was new. 

“You..” he finally managed to choke out. “Are weird.”

Shiiiiit. 

Now he wishes he stayed at a loss for words because the absolute look of embarrassment on Logan’s face made him immediately regret his words. 

I KICKED THE PUPPY! SHIT, SHIT, SHIT! I KICKED THE DAMN PUPPY!

“But that’s not bad!” He quickly said. “Whatever helps, yknow!” 

Logan smiled weakly and forced out a laugh. “Ya.. ya..”

“Logan..” Tyler tried again, reaching out hesitantly before stopping himself. “I really didn’t mean it that way..” he said gruffly, really trying to keep the awkwardness out of his voice, but he ended up just sounding stiff. “You’re.. I.. you’re nice, Logan.”

“Hah.. ya.. nice..”

I’m so bad at damage control, ugh!!

“Logan!” Tyler barked. Logan jumped in surprise and turned to him. 

“You’re a fucking weirdo,” he said bluntly. “But I don’t mean it in the way Barron would.. I.. mean it in a good way, all right?”

Logan must’ve realized Tyler meant it, because he smiled a real smile. A smile of thankfulness and appreciation. 

“That.. really does mean a lot..” Logan said, nervously rubbing his arms. 

The two looked at each other and Logan felt desperation creep into his soul. This entire situation has been terrifying, being kidnapped, separated from his friends, and learning he’s going to turn into a phantom. He had to say it. He had to! He couldn’t possibly die without saying it right here and now! He was not going to be a coward!!

“I like you, Tyler,” Logan said. 

Tyler’s eyes widened. “What..?”

“The way you play baseball and have manage to be cool about everything you do and your sense of justice and the way you care about the people you love, like Taylor.. I like all of that about you!”

Right when Tyler thought Logan couldn’t surprise him anymore. “L..Logan..!”

But before he could even figure out what to say, the door opened. “We’ll be taking Mr. Fields back to his room.”

Tyler looked up, his eyes still wide. “Huh..?”

Logan stood up and waved at Tyler. “See ya, Ty..” he said with a smile. Logan felt really proud of himself. 

“W-wait.. hey, Logan!”

But the door shut and Logan let out a sigh. With each step, he remembered little things. Like when he went to a baseball game to practice his photography and he first ever saw Tyler and how cool he thought he was.. Like when Tyler stood up to Barron for Logan… Like how Tyler said he liked that Logan was weird..

By the time Logan reached his room and the door closed, he realized what he did. It really hit him like a school bus. 

“AHHHH! Did I really just do that?!?” He grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. “NOW I REALLY HOPE I BECOME A PHANTOM!”

[fangirl-docintraining]

Okay trying out posting some headcannons about the Curtis gang (including Betty for my fic readers cause I’ve written 100k words and I do what I want)

So without further ado I give you: How airport traveling goes for the gang (modern AU)

Darry is peak stressed eldest child™️ at the airport. Soda and Ponyboy make fun of him for this relentlessly

However, the gang overall is absolute chaos, so his stress isn’t necessarily unwarranted

Soda is still packing 5 minutes before they’re supposed to leave for the airport and it drives Darry insane

Dally only brings a backpack. No suitcase. He brings like some random clothes and whatever he just tosses in the bag. Pretty sure he doesn’t even know what he’s packed

Darry parking the car is so much of a production for no reason, man is cursing every time he thinks he finds an open spot but it’s just a car that’s hidden

He parks in the far lot because they aren’t paying the $30 a day garage parking fee because wtf (honestly same) and they have to take the shuttle

When they actually are walking into the airport for their first plane trip with Betty coming along Two Bit takes pity and pulls her aside to warn her about Darry being a bit… high strung at the airport

They forget that she is an eldest daughter™️

They always try to fly an airline where you get a free checked bag with your ticket because these boys refuse to travel without their pocket knives and so they gotta have them in checked luggage.

The second they’re at the luggage counter and getting boarding passes Darry immediately takes all of them. He doesn’t trust a single one of them to be in charge of their own boarding pass. Betty snatches hers before he gets the chance to hold on to hers though.

The second their bags are checked behind the counter Betty turns into some insane drill Sargent and starts just marching towards security with or without them with her pink tote bag over her shoulder.

The duo that is Darry and Betty in the security line. They both are like barely holding on every time some random person holds up the line or slows things down.

Soda and Steve get in a full on wrestling match in line. They almost take Ponyboy down on accident cause he wasn’t paying attention

Speaking of Ponyboy not paying attention, his bag gets pulled by security and Darry just lets out the most long suffering sigh.

Ponyboy forgot he had a full water bottle in his bag. Everyone but Darry and Betty think it’s hilarious

Dally has to go through the metal detector like three times cause he keeps forgetting things on his person that will set it off. despite being told he’d need to take his belt off like eight times, he still didn’t the first time he tried to walk through.

Johnny somehow silently got through security five minutes before everyone else and like already has his shoes back on and everything and it just watching it all unfold

The boys all want to get food immediately after getting through security. Darry and Betty refuse to allow anyone to do so until they’ve visually confirmed that their gate does indeed exist

Two Bit disappears for like an hour and just comes back to the with a new pair of Bose headphones, an armful of snacks, and like four magazines

Steve and Soda bring a Switch and occupy themselves and most of the gang by playing games while they wait

Darry and Betty get in a full on fight because mans wants to just stand in line before they’ve even started boarding and she won’t let him. Sir you are in boarding group 4.

Eventually she says fuck it and lets him go stand there cause he gets so mad, so she simply leaves to go to Hudson news and get herself some candy.

Once boarding actually starts Darry makes them all line up early, he about pops a blood vessel because half of the guys immediately have to pee and leave for the bathroom

Betty very pointedly does not get up to come stand and wait in line with them until the group before theirs is almost done. Darry is convinced she’s gonna miss the flight despite the fact he can SEE her

Darry handing out boarding passes in this line and being like don’t you dare lose this. They have to walk approx 5 feet to the check in counter lmfao

Seats are duos as follows: Dally and Two Bit, Johnny and Pony, Soda and Steve, Darry and Betty.

Soda legit asks if they need to swap seats as they’re like in the aisle of the plane cause literally no one has seen the two of them fight this bad ever. They snap at everyone including each other over everything. Betty gets mad at how Darry puts his backpack into the overhead bin and he just softly bangs his forehead against it in exasperation

They second the they’re all sitting everyone’s convinced they’re gonna kill each other because the seats are tiny and there is no leg room or personal space

Betty simply takes the people magazine two bit bought (stole?) and opens her skittles as if she and Darry weren’t about to throttle each other thirty seconds prior

Darry passes out everyone’s snacks and then says no one speak to me for the next two hours.

Soda realized the two of them were meant to be when he looked over and saw that they both were currently glaring daggers at someone for arguing about seats and holding up the flight, they were sharing candy and just somehow sharing their mutual type A meltdown together

[alienpossession]

Ricky rented the canoe around 10 AM from one of the local vendor. But ever since he went away from the shorr, no one knew his whereabouts

---

The boat appeared unnoticed.

Over the course of the hour, Jared lifted his head and scanned the horizon a few times, taking a nap and earning a natural tan was very nice, but he didn't like being in the dark. He was used to being in control, looking out over the empty beach and the hazy calm sea. The eye caught on a small, barely noticeable dot, but he quickly forgot about it. Until the next look at the sea. The dot got a little bigger until it was obvious that it was a boat. There was no wind, and quietly swaying it was pulled to the shore by the current and the tide, it seemed to him that the boat was completely empty.

The third time he woke up, when the tide began to tickle his feet, noon was long gone and the sun was starting to set, he too should have gone home. He stood on the sand and stretched out, his whole body tensed, stiff muscles tensed and woke up. He yawned and looked back. The boat stuck to the sand, it was rocked by the oncoming wave, from here one could see the leg thrown on board, swaying in time with the wave.

He yawned again, thinking that the boatman had also taken a nap, but something was wrong. Why would anyone let themselves dose off in such a small vessel which could be carried away by the current?

He yawned again and walked carelessly to the boat. Inside lay the body of a tattooed blonde guy looking drained and sun-kissed from the many hours he spent under the sun. He looked drained despite there's a bag with small food and packed bottles of a bluish liquid resembling water in his tiny boat

He put two fingers on his neck and tried to feel for a pulse, barely noticeable and very weak, it was bad. Jared grabbed the tattooed guy arms and pulled him to the sand, then knelt beside him and tried to remember the resuscitation technique. He pressed his chest a few times, then breathed air into his mouth, no response, just a strange squelching in his throat. He turned the guy on his side, tried to shake out the water, a thick bluish liquid began to drip from the guy's mouth. It gathered in a puddle and did not soak into the sand. Jared barely paid attention to it, he turned the guy on his back again, he was already breathing and even opened his eyes, but immediately closed them.

"Lie still," Jared said. He turned his back on the boat, hoping to find a mobile phone in the bag, not noticing how the bluish thick liquid stretched out and crawled into the guy's mouth, his eyes turned completely blue, and his body fluttered. Soon there was nothing left on the sand but a slight bluish body, his limbs quivered and he tried to get up.

Jared dumped the entire contents of the bag into the boat, it seemed that the bag belonged to some researcher, but there was no phone in it.

Thirsty from the whole saving effort and still not finding any clue, Jared pulled out one of the water bottles, popped the lid off, and took a deep sip. Instead of water, something thick and bitter filled his throat, the bottle fell from his hands and fell on the sand. Jared doubled over and tried to burp the disgusting liquor, but it remained in his throat. He tried to breathe but stuttered, his throat blocked, he felt cold tentacles stretching in all directions and towards his head. At that moment, he was hit from behind, Jared fell to the shallow water, gasping, something did not let him breathe, and his blood began to boil as he grabbed his throat, turning paler every second went by. The body of the recently rescued tattooed guy then piled on top of him and they started to wrestle. His eyes were blue, and blue was leaking from his ears and nose. The two went on pushing each other before the tattooed guy eventually got the upper hand

The two of them eventually kissed underwater and that's when the tattooed guy's neck bulging before he unloads sticky goo right onto Jared's mouth. He then dragged Jared back to the surface and throughout the whole ordeal, the goo completely infiltrated his head and body. He was trapped, in seconds his brain was covered in slime, his body and arms were twitching. The body that dragged him then picked up the bottle from the ground and splashed even more of its contents into the back of Jared's throat. He fought for every inch of his body, but he could not help but feel how he was slowly losing control, the cold was spreading from the bottom up, the limbs were icy and blue. Slime spread over his body and Jared felt like he was drowning in it. He finally gave up when he was flooded - not by slime, but by orgasm.

His body opened its eyes and met the gaze of the man above it. One blink and their blue eyes were back to normal, their brains and memories synchronized. The feeling of being in control of two bodies was unusual, but it adjusted quickly. The guy from above extended his hand, and Jared's body immediately grabbed it and stood on the sand again. They swayed as they looked at each other, both able to communicate without words.

Both reached for the bottles in the boat, popped them open and poured the contents inside themselves, greedily gulping down the bulk of the slime. It is enough for many bodies, in the human body it could multiply uncontrollably.

Another story from a follower which I altered a bit to make it fits to the pictures I have. Hope you like it

[cherrycocaineee]

35. Joker - Safe With Me

*Warning: I’ve incorporated characters from both Gotham and Suicide Squad. Mention of Violence. Abuse. Legal Age Gap. Whatever else is considered a warning.*

Synopsis: After one of the most intense beatings she’s ever experienced by her father, Paisley runs away; only taking a pre-packed backup with her and ditching her cell. Not wanting to go to the Joker, afraid of what he’d do to her father if she did, she goes to an abandoned building instead. But being the property of the Joker means that he knows where she’s at at all times.

* Paisley’s p.o.v *

It was the worst it had ever been before; and even though it had been two hours since I had just experienced the most gruesome beating in my life, the pain was still fresh. The bruises formed almost immediately, and there were popped blood vessels in my eye coloring the white part red. My face was sticky with old tears, new ones adding to the mess as I looked at the mirror in my room. I hadn’t done anything wrong that warranted this type of outburst, in fact, it had nothing to do with me at all. Apparently, dad was going through some things at work that had him considering leaving Gotham; which I found out meant that he might lose his job if he stayed. He was so stressed out that he drank too much before coming home to take his drunken frustration out on me to make himself feel better.

   I moved some of my blonde hair out of my face; dry blood had crusted into my hair from the cut that it hid. My other hand reached up and touched my busted lip, wincing as I felt the sting of how fresh it was. I tried not to look at the thousands of bruises littering my body or the sharp pain in my ribs that might indicate a broken bone. The only thing I could think of the entire time I cried and looked at my wounds was that I couldn’t do this anymore, and that I deserved better than what I was getting. So I quietly opened my closet door, listening intently to the television downstairs, then grabbed my pre-packed bag out from underneath a few extra quilts and blankets. I was never worried about dad going through my belongings, I was worried about Freddy going through my things and finding stuff that I didn’t want to have to explain to him or my dad.

I didn’t plan on taking my cell phone with me, so I made sure to block the Joker’s number and hope that when I did see him again, he’d understand. I even deleted our messages so no one could go through them when they realized I was gone. I opened my underwear drawer and pulled out a wad of cash that I had been saving up from allowances. Once I had everything that I needed, I opened my window and crawled onto the extended tree limb that normally helped me sneak back in after my nights with Mister J. As soon as my feet touched the ground, I took off down the streets as quietly and quickly as I could. I didn’t want to catch anyone’s attention. All I wanted to do was get away from this man who was no longer my father.

    There really wasn’t anywhere I could go where someone didn’t recognize me; the whole city practically knew who my dad was, even the criminals knew. I’d go to the Joker later but right now, I was afraid of what he’d do once he saw me in this state. In the meantime, I dodged anyone I thought could recognize me and call home to inform my dad that I was wandering the streets of Gotham late at night. After some time, I had managed to walk my way into some abandoned building that I’d never noticed before. Glass covered every inch of the ground, mixing with the gray sand and dead grass, all of the windows were boarded up and I wondered if maybe the windows were broken on purpose when they closed down. It also could have been teenagers breaking in, similar to what I was doing. I could read the sign that was painted on the moldy bricks because it was too faded.

  “God,” I mumbled, “This is definitely how people die.”

  But even that was a better fate than being alive and beaten.

Taking a large breath, I made my way into the building. There were no lights on but the small cracks in the foundation allowed a few slips of moonlight to give me direction. In the distance, I could hear a small bubbling sound coming from a room. A green, illuminated light peeped underneath the door that contained it. Swallowing hard, I shuffled to the door and pushed it open; an eerie creek echoed off the empty, damp walls. Leading through the room was a high pavement of metal that looked wet like everything else in the building, however, surprisingly it wasn’t rusted. I placed my foot on the metal carefully and listened for anything that would indicate I’d fall to my doom. When I was reassured that it was safe, I started walking further into the room. Underneath the walkway were enormous vats of green, steaming liquid that I recognized easily; the only reason I knew what it was was because of the lesson we did in chemistry class. It was acid. I was quickly reminded of Harley’s beginning, how it all started for her here. Part of me always wondered if the Joker kept me around to fill in the hole Harley left, if he really cared about me at all or was he doing it all to help him then toss me to the side. I was afraid to tell him that, to see what his reaction would be. Would he hit me like my father did when he was angry? Would he just leave me? Would I ruin something that I considered perfect in its own way?

    I eventually made it to the edge of the path and peered down at the rolling acid beneath me. I remembered telling Mister J that I didn’t want to end up diving into a pit of acid and becoming the new Harley, and he had been okay with it but I still wondered if that were the case. Sighing gently, I sat down and let my feet dangle over the edge. The drop looked further than it probably was, like if I was peering down at the mess beneath me from a tower. More tears slid down my cheeks and I buried my head into my hands as I started to sob uncontrollably like I had at home.

Time seemed to speed by while I sat alone, crying and wallowing in my own self pity. When I was officially cried out, I wiped all of the tears away as well as the small amount of snot bubbling at the end of my nose. I was so preoccupied that I didn’t notice the door opening or feet approaching me until I had a feeling someone was standing behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, sending a rush of fear rolling through my body. I was afraid that my dad had found me here and that I would receive more than what I’d gotten earlier. But that fear was tossed out the window when I heard the Joker’s voice.

   “What do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, angry by the fact that I had blocked his number.

 “I just needed some time to think,” I whispered, never making eye contact with him so he couldn’t see my face.

  “You blocked my number,” his breathing was huffier, angrier, “Is that your way of telling me you’re done with me?”

  That time, I couldn’t even form the words to explain myself. All of the emotions resurfaced as I began to choke on sobs again, covering my mouth to quiet them to no avail. Mister J kneeled beside me, gripping my shoulders hard and forcing me to look at him. His eyes were cold and hard, dangerous and calculating; probably all of the ways to kill me. Then they softened and relaxed when he saw the condition I was in.

  “I had to leave,” I cried, “It was so much worse than…than before. And I had to block your number so he wouldn’t see I’d been speaking to you, in case he found me.”

 “Why didn’t you come to me, Paisley?”

 “Because I don’t want you to kill him! He’s my fa-father!”

I buried my head into the silk of his shirt, gripping the leather of his jacket while more sobs escaped. Drool started gathering onto his shirt creating a wet stain but he didn’t say anything. Instead, Mister J wrapped his strong, thick arms around me in comfort while brushing my hair with his fingers. When his fingers found the blood tangled in my hair, he froze but still kept whatever was brewing in his head to himself. Once again, I felt cried out so I pulled away, wiping away the drool and tears from my face as well as his shirt, at least the best I could.

  “I sh-shouldn’t have blocked you,” I croaked, “but I didn’t know what else to…to do. I’m so tired. Drained.”

  Mister J sat beside me, keeping his arm around me firmly.

 “Luckily,” Mister J muttered, his voice still rough with anger, “I know exactly how to find someone when I need to.”

 “How did you find me?” I asked, sniffling.

 “Someone I work close to saw you walking down the street with a frightened face. I figured it was because you were scared of me finding you but now that I’m looking at you, I know that wasn’t the case.”

  Mister J pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and clicked around before putting the phone to his ear. I stared up at him, wondering who he was calling right now.

 “Frost,” he said, answering my unspoken question, “Go to Paisley’s home and collect the rest of her things to bring back home. And take her dad too.”

My eyes widened and I tried to tell him no or anything else that would get him to leave my dad alone. When he hung up on Frost, I pushed him off of me angrily.

“I told you I didn’t want you to kill him!” I snapped.

  Mister J stared at me with a large grin on his face. His silver teeth glowing in the moonlight and the green, illuminating acid. I shook my head; it felt like he wasn’t taking any of this seriously. I climbed to my feet and grabbed my pre-packed runaway kit then started to leave. Mister J was quick to his own feet and grabbed my arm to keep me from leaving.

 “He hurt you and he continues to hurt you. He wants to take you away from me too, and I can’t allow that. I won’t allow that. As long as you and I are together, Paisley, you belong to me, and I won’t allow anything to happen to you like with Harley. Especially when I could have put an end to it. I listened, I didn’t go near him and I didn’t kill him like you asked but enough's enough.”

  My bag slipped off my shoulder, hitting the metal with a loud thud.

 “But I…what will I do?” I whispered.

 “You’ll come stay with me like we’ve talked about.”

 “People will come looking for me.”

 “We’ll fake your own death. They’ll think you and your dad died.”

 “What if I want to go out and get coffee or just for a walk or to pick something up?”

 “Then you’ll go with the guards so they can watch and protect you, otherwise, you’ll be with me. You’ll be safe, Paisley.”

I wiped away the remaining tears and looked up at his icy blue eyes with my own. He was watching me, reading everything he could off my face to see if I’d agree or not. How could I say no? He’d always taken care of me before, he listened and didn’t act when he discovered my dad was beating me or that he wanted to take me out of Gotham. Mister J had never given me a reason to distrust him, even his anger and the way he acted sometimes didn’t scare me because he didn’t take his anger out on me. In fact, he treated me like a princess all the time.

  I reached out and took the hand that wasn’t grabbing onto me. It was covered in tattoos and thick calluses. I led him back to where we had been sitting and pulled him down beside me. I rested my head against his shoulder and sighed. Our outer thighs touched and I kept our hands entwined with one another.

   “Okay,” I said, “I’ll come stay with you. But I swear to God, if you ever lay your hands on me the way he did…”

  No more words left my mouth as Mister J burst into laughter, the sound stretching across the room creating an echo.

  “I’m serious,” I protested.

 “I know,” he laughed, “that’s what makes it hilarious because you think I’d stoop so low as to hit someone as pretty as you.”

  “You’re so unlike yourself when you’re around me.” A giggle left my own lips.

 “Is that so?” He hummed.

I nodded.

And it was true too. Everyone knew how the Joker really was to people; he was a ruthless killer who had no problem manipulating his way out of any situation so he could get what he wanted. But that had never been the case with me; he had approached me, he asked me to be with him, and he continued to see me afterwards without asking for anything besides my loyalty. I didn’t even have to get him out of Arkham when he wound up in there, I just had to promise to come see him on the days I visited my mom and had to be with him once he got out. It was like our relationship was purely based on a need for someone to love him because he didn’t have that anymore. How he ended up falling in love with me was still a mystery but I knew how I fell in love with him. And I didn’t regret being in love with him. If Mister J swore he was going to take care of me and treat me the way I deserved to be treated, then I didn’t mind the darker side of him.

   “Paisley,” Mister J called out.

  I looked up at him and hummed in acknowledgment.

   “I love you.”

  It was the first time he had ever said that to me before. I smiled, nibbling on my bottom lip as I felt happiness erupt inside me.

  “I love you too, Mister J.”

  He climbed to his feet and held out his hand. I didn’t hesitate to take it and he easily pulled me off the metal platform. Not another word was spoken between the two of us as we left the abandoned building. And for the first time in a long time, I knew I was going to be able to sleep peacefully without the fear of being woken in the middle of the night to be punished.

 It was refreshing.

Taglist: @w4nt-h1s-d1ck @leaveitbythewave @ellatitanium @gaymistakeboi @erika-solic @weepingwitchofthewest

[brrrkdslek]

UM O E O

𖡎 youtube clips of ateez member, m/n that has atinys barking and rolling on the floor.

𖡎 ateez x 9th member! male! reader

𖡎 fluff, angst, idk slay???

𖡎 bullying, harassment, blood n gore(oop)

𖡎 2.8k

clip 1 — m/n standing up for ateez on variety show

ateez along with the mcs laughed at the jokes as they continued, "if i were a member of ateez, what position would suit me best?" the members looked around and whispered amongst each other before hongjoong spoke up, "i don't know, but i think you'd do great..."

everyone laughs at the captain's statement as he shrinks in embarrassment. the mc puffs out his chest, "i think i'd be able to handle m/n's position." jongho blinks in surprise, "you can handle being main vocalist and main dancer...?" the other mc retaliated, "yeah, he thinks he can! what about it!?"

you only smile, knowing how much these people underestimate your hardwork. wooyoung speaks, "but his position is very hard, m/n actually plays a huge part in our choreography too!" wooyoung nudges you, "tell them!" you giggle at wooyoung's excitement.

"okay. so, when our tracks release, let's say for our comeback song, bouncy. i would improv it once and record it, then i would mark down some move which i think would collaborate well with the song, and then i'd work out the full choreo with the choreographer-"

the mc cut you off, "i still think i'd be able to do it though! maybe even better than you!" it came out in a joke tone but you could hear the underlying saltiness the man had with you, why's he so reluctant on bullying you???

you brush through your long hair before breaking the awkward silence, "well, who's position on the team do you agree with the least and why?" the mc perked up as he spoke loudly, "i think i would be the visual." mingi had to physically hold back a snort from beside you, "i honestly don't think seonghwa should be the visual at all."

wooyoung held back a gasp as san glared at the mc from afar. yunho turned to seonghwa and he only blinked in surprise, jongho gulped as he sees your vessel popping out in your neck, the tips of your ears turning slightly red.

"hm, i see. then who do you think would be best for visuals?" mingi placed his hand in your lap, comforting you quietly as you sighed. "i think, maybe me?" the mc does some weird 'sexy' pose and the other mc applauses him while your members keep quiet.

you let out a loud laugh for a second before covering your mouth with your hand, "ah, i'm sorry!" the mc's face was blank, "what, do you think i can't be the visual!?" you look the man up and down, "are you sure you'll even make it past the audition?" 'oo's' and laughs were exchanged between your members as you and the mc only stared.

clip 2 — m/n toktoq live: response to the show

you were eating peacefully in your hotel room with your live on and singing to the atinys every now and then. "m/n, did you say that to the mc because you were mad?" you read out a question. pondering for a few seconds, you decide to answer honestly.

"yes, i was super mad, more that he insulted my members." you slurped the noodled as you spoke again, "listen, i don't mind if people insult or make fun of me. but i won't accept if anyone speaks ill of my members." you untie your bun, which had been messed up from how much you'd been moving around.

biting the hairtie between your teeth, you used your hands to fix a ponytail and spoke, "i can take any insults if it is directed to me," picking up the hairtie, you tie your hair into a bun and fixed your bangs, "but please, leave my members alone."

clip 3 — m/n going off at a saseang in the airport

you had your hood and mask on as you followed along your members in the airport. you always hated the airport since the amount of people surrounding you made you feel incredibly claustrophobic and annoyed.

you had just came back to korea from your long concert and is headed back to the company. during the trip, you felt someone poke you and turned around, "hyung..." jongho's face looks slightly paler, "are you alright, jjong?" you held onto his hand as he leaned onto your strong arm, "just a bit tired..."

you ruffled his hair, "let's get outta here as soon as possible, m'kay?" jongho nods as you kiss his head, following your other members.

as you neared the exits, the group began slowing down as more people surrounded ateez and pushed the mangers and even the members from time to time. you tsked and checked on jongho every few seconds to make sure he is still there.

you noticed a woman pulling on the hems of jongho's hoodie as you swatted her away, pulling his closer to you as you squeezed between the members. however, she came back and kept on trying to get his attention, making him incredibly uncomfortable.

you could feel jongho's hands tremble and twitch with every touch of the woman and you got increasingly angered. you even did as much as wrapping your entire arm around his waist and leaned your head on his shoulder, you know jongho likes when you do that, it made him feel relaxed and calm.

but of course the woman didn't fucking stop as san and mingi were trying their best to kindly push her off and not cause scene. you heard jongho continuously mumbled for her to get off but you weren't having any of it. you were on your last straw when she began pulling on his wrist, that's when you acted out.

you let go of jongho's hand quickly and went to the other side and shoved the woman, hard. she ended up tripping on her own feet and collapsing onto the ground. you could care less for the cameras that were capturing this moment, in fact, you wanted everyone to see.

"yah! what's wrong with you!?" the woman spoke as she fixed her hair and tried standing up, you used your feet to push her shoulder back down. "what's wrong with me? are you kidding me, lady? you had been touching jongho this entire time and you're asking me what's wrong with me?"

you let out a sarcastic laugh, "who do you think you are? did you think i wouldn't do anything cause there are cameras?" your members and managers made no move to stop you as they only watched, all silently agreeing that it is what she deserved.

you crouched down and leaned into her ear, "if there were no cameras, i would've beat your fucking face off. now get lost before i actually do that." the woman shifted away from you and scrambled to get up, running away in a hurry as she cried.

you got up and grabbed your bag before going back to jongho and holding his hand, "let's go?" he nodded as the managers lead you all to the van, the crowd becoming smaller after your sudden outburst.

as you got into the van, you never let go of jongho's hand as he leaned onto your shoulder, eyes getting heavier. "i'm sorry jjong. you must've been so scared..." he smiled, "but i wasn't." you blink in surprise, "really, why not?" he looks up at you and flashed that adorable gummy smile of his, "cause i knew you'd protect me."

clip 4 — angry m/n at kcon

you were performing as normal and was super excited for your upcoming high note part. you had a few lines before it and while you were singing, you found that your mic had disconnected or some shit, making you grumpy.

however, atinys thought you were doing a sexy concept and cheered excitedly watching you sing your part. the mic had become more and more annoying as you sang your part, proving to be useless.

during the few seconds of pause before your high note, your ripped the headset off and threw it onto the ground before hitting the high note perfectly, wowing the atinys at your impactful volume even without a mic.

clip 5 — m/n shoving paparazzis for getting too close

ateez was in america, dressed all nice for their interview with buzzfeed, and as they got off the van one by one, the members were bombarded with cameras flashing in their direction. it wouldn't have been a problem had they not been at hand's distance with the members faces.

you were the last to get off the van as one paparazzi had the audacity to shove his camera inside the van while you were getting off. so, being the good samaritan you are, you shoved the camera.

you shoved it forward so that it hit the paparazzi on his bald head, making the man scream curses at you as you walked into the building, smile never leaving your face.

clip 6 — yunho vs m/n

"yeah, and i got this last week-" "why does your hair look like that?" you turn to yunho looking pretty offended, "why does my hair look like... what?" yunho giggles, "like, like poo..." you deadpan to the camera before rolling your eyes, "why does my hair matter to you in the slightest bit?" he shrugs and bites into the dumpling.

"i dunno, i jus' think it looks better when it's down." you leaned down to slurp your noodles, "better than your crap coloured hair..." yunho's jaw drops as he tosses the wooden chopsticks on the table and stands up, "yah!"

you turn to him and look up, "why're you standing up??" he pouts, "my hair is NOT crap colour!" your forehead creases, "can you just sit down-" "at least i don't spend two hours every morning getting ready." you frown and stand up, growing more annoyed by the second.

"why're you picking a fight with me?" he rolls his eyes and cross his arms, mumbling something. "what'd you say?" looking down, yunho mumbles, "i'm not the one that throws headsets on stage..."

you had to blink a few times to process what he had said. "jeong yunho," the man stiffens and turns to you, "...what?" you stared at the man with the angry glare, making him shiver. "sit down right now and eat your food." as if on impulse, yunho's knees buckle and he plops back onto the armchair.

you side-eyed yunho for a few seconds before turning to the camera, with a large grin like you weren't just about to detached yunho's head from his body, "okay atinys, i think we have to cut the live short! have a good day!"

clip 7 — m/n noona revealed!

mingi bounced excitedly as he sat on the chair and waited for his questions, "has there been a time where your members has stood up for you?" mingi's eyes widen as he smiles, "yes!" he answers loudly.

"there was this time during a fansign when i was feeling really sick, m/n hyung noticed and tried to tell the staff but they wouldn't let me leave. i get it, cause they thought it would've been disrespectful and i told him that!

but he got so angry and only told me to take care of myself before he went back to the atinys. afterwards, he yelled and screamed at the managers!" mingi giggled, "it was really funny seeing them all just looking down like toddlers being scolded by their parents. i'm so grateful for m/n hyung!"

the other members including yourself smiles and giggled at the back as wooyoung spoke up, "you mean m/n noona?" you swatted the back of wooyoung's head as he only giggled, "that sounds so good!" mingi turned to look at wooyoung.

"right!?" "m/n noona!" jongho laughed, "m/n noona!" he leaned onto your shoulder as you only huffed, the rest of the members including hongjoong and seonghwa hyung also started calling you that.

clip 8 — fansign massacre!

it was a sunny day when ateez were in la, california for their fansign. hongjoong had asked the managers a few times for them not to do a fansign in such an area since america was a dangerous place as they could get stabbed and shot at any moment. however, the managers persisted.

the members were lined up in their seats in the order of their ages, with m/n squeezed between hongjoong and yunho. the venue was crowded with many atinys waving and screaming the member's names.

as the atinys sat in their designated seats, the fansign started. you were enthusiastic with a happy grin painting your face the entire time at all the pretty girls and boys that dressed up prettily to see you, it made your heart swell with pride.

suddenly, hongjoong leaned into your ear and whispered, "this one's sketchy, watch them closely." you blink in confusion before the next fan shifts in front of you.

you immediately get the memo as the person- you can't even tell the gender as their face was covered up with a mask and hoodie. you force a smile as you tried to bring up some conversation, "so, uh... how long have you been a fan?"

"i'm not," your eyes widen, "how long is each member?" you were shocked as it took you a second to respond, "f-five minutes." afterwards, you and the person only stared at each other before the time ran out.

you suddenly got a feeling in your gut something bad was about to happen. you were constantly turning to yunho who was on your left conversing with said person. why were they being so friendly with yunho only?

"are you alright?" the atiny asked as you brushed some sweat from your forehead and focused back on the fan, but making sure to keep an eye on yunho.

as the timer ran out, the atinys shifted seats again but the person never moved from in front of yunho. you felt your heart rate increased as the person stayed unmoving, the staff were already on high alert of this person after seonghwa's turn.

yunho's eyes widen in fear as the person abruptly pulled out a dagger and stood up, leaning forward to graze yunho. yunho leaned backwards, closing his eyes as yeosang reaching out to stop the person, everything was moving too quickly as m/n instinctively reached out.

yunho cracked his eyes open as he fell backwards onto his butt at the sight in front of him; you holding the dagger with your bare hand, gripping it so hard your veins were visible on your forearm. wooyoung almost threw up at the sight of your blood running down your arm.

everyone around you was panicked including the person as the crowd screamed and pushed around each other, but your face was stern. you stared straight into the person with half-lidded eyes, showing no sign of emotions even though your hand was burning from pain.

no one dared to move, not even the members or managers as you slowly spoke in english, "what," your eyebrows creased, "do you think you're doing?" your grip tightened as the person's grip on the handle loosened, stumbling backwards as he fell.

the staff immediately emerged from the shadows and pinned down the person, making sure to call the police. you violently threw the dagger onto the ground, making everyone jump as you wiped your bloody hand on your white tank top, eyes never leaving the attackers.

you squatted down and pulled their hoodie down, "if i see your face again," grabbing a fistful of their hair, you yanked the person so close your noses almost touched. they yelped in pain and gripped your wrist, "i'll kill you with this damn knife, got it?"

the person began to cry as you shoved their face away, grimacing as the staff dragged the person backstage. the manager came to you with first-aid and asked if you were okay. you brushed them off as you jogged to yunho, who was still sat on the ground.

you cup his cheeks in your hand as you turn his head left and right, "yun! are you okay? are you hurt?" yunho's eyes watered as his bottom lip quivered, "ah- i got blood on your cheek," you pulled your right hand away and wiped the blood with the back of your hand.

yunho stopped your movement and held onto your wrist, pulling his head into your chest as he silently sobbed, mumbling 'sorry's' and 'it's my fault's'. you kissed his head and patted his back, "no, i'm sorry i was a second too late."

©BRRRKDSLEK 2023

[2demondogs]

Am I Bad? | Javier/Arthur

Tags: minor injuries, drunken camp shenanigans, Javier has anger issues and Arthur is drunk as FUCK. believe it or not this is all fluff Word Count: 4.4k A/N: I don't speak Spanish so I Googled shit. Let me know if it's contextually wrong. Or just plain wrong...

Boredom has become a luxury. Arthur is glad that — too sore and tired to ride any further, too far from civilization to do much of anything meaningful — they have found themselves at a loss for busywork.

It is a heaven of its own after working his body into unraveling at the seams, it feels, for weeks on end.

Javier had taken the job of setting up camp, delivered well on his promise to make it quick. A single tent lay before the firepit he'd slapped together, piled with timber Arthur fetched meanwhile. They agreed some evenings ago, shitfaced and brazen, that one tent was more economical for many reasons, a few of which spurred Javier's hand on his thigh. Sober, neither have been ballsy enough to discuss it again.

Well, Arthur hasn't got the balls for it.

By the time noon has nestled into the clouds, he's brushed most of the grass and dirt from their New Hanover trail off of his horse. A sweet girl, who reminds him more of a cat than a horse the way she clings to him and eyes Boaz with distrust. A girl that he hasn't yet named since borrowing; certainly, she'll be lured away by another man, in the way karma reclaims all stolen goods, which renders it borrowing.

Naming her is one task he must — he is too soft to say he merely should — do, but neglecting things is a different experience when he isn't in danger of popping any of Dutch's blood vessels.

Javier is circling the firepit when he turns and stretches, lumbering over on sore legs. Watching him plunk his boney ass onto the dirt beside it, Arthur snickers at him hiking his pant legs up at the knees, the way a woman hikes her skirt when she sits.

He doesn't tease him for it anymore. The first and last time, he got asked, in the middle of camp: why, cariño, want me to be your woman? If he really meant the bite that laid behind his words or if it was a cover-up, one for whatever odd flower was growing in the dirt of their friendship — he really doesn't know.

Unable to help himself, he snickers.

"Watch yourself," Javier warns, appraising it as Arthur seats himself without grace. He scoffs. "At least I don't sit down like a withered old man."

The words are light. They've lost some of their usual rasp, as if he is speaking from a different part of his throat where the skin is not so scarred. Arthur likes this tone, has noticed him using it more often when they're alone.

Nevermind that it is the same way he speaks to Boaz, Dutch, and the occassional stray dog in town. Saved for God, wife, and animal companion, like a good man's softness should be.

The thought makes him bite down a laugh, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Afternoon comes sooner than Arthur would like.

The shit has been shot sufficiently, he supposes, if Javier's eyes unfocusing and his broken humming are anything to go by. Another effect of his scarred throat, he doesn't often hum a true hum: dah-dah, duhn, dah-dah-dah, the general beats of a song only he knows, mumbled low and quiet.

Maybe in another life, Javier is a musician. They'd both be artists, then. By chance, Arthur could do the artwork for his record slips, if the lack of guns made more time for pencils to fit in his hand.

Now there's a funny thought. Him, an artist, full-time. All professional-like. There he goes, making shit up.

In the pleasant pseudo-silence, Arthur pulls his pocket knife out to pick the grime from beneath his nails. Swiping the tip of the shortest blade beneath the discolored white of his nail, wiping the dirt off with two fingers, and then repeating. It is so second-nature, he hardly pays mind to whether they are cleaned or not and must do another pass to get them presentable.

He may or may not be wondering, as anyone would, what kind of songs Javier would do.

His fingernails need trimmed, anyways. Everything about Javier looks so purposeful, Arthur is too ashamed to chew his nails in front of him.

The man's nails bend and break, too, sure they do. First, though, they are straight-clipped; he has never felt the teeth-roughened edges of a nail-biter's hands scratching over his skin. In the company of Arthur, he only appears to chew on the hardened ridges of skin around the nailbeds.

Somehow, if his actions chafe with the pristineness Arthur sees in him, the rough things Javier does simply become pristine, too. At least as far as his body extends, the skin-deep qualities like voice and hair and cleanliness and godliness — except, of course, Javier could never fit so nicely in one little box, wiry but wily.

Arthur knows he is just making shit up once more. He hardly understands it himself, at this point, finds it difficult to admit that even when he doesn't respect what Javier does, he still— well, he supposes, likes the man. Digging himself into a tunnel system of respect, admiration, and morality is much easier than taking a crack at digging straight down into affection.

He scrapes wrong against the underneath of his nail and cringes, bringing himself from his head and into the present once more. Javier is singing softly, drumming on his thighs and watching Arthur, who had zoned out thoroughly. He glances at Javier, runs away from his eyes as quick as he ran to them.

They're too kind.

Javier stops singing. It was more of a babble, anyways, slurred and words half-skipped over. "I miss my guitar," he says, nearing solemnity. "No music out here."

Arthur raises his brows. "I got hands and feet, don't I?" He says, offers a small grin. "Just sing somethin' I know."

He chuckles, eyes unmoving as he thinks, like he'll hear music if he looks long enough at Arthur's tired old face. Sometimes, he wishes Javier would just shoot him in the head instead of staring at his damn forehead wrinkles like this.

It isn't as easy as a sing-a-long usually is.

Javier is mostly familiar with Uncle's instructions for playing various English songs: it's like this, then some godawful him-hawing that is somehow turned into notes, then it sound' happier than that, Javier, c'mon'ow. The rest of his catalogue is Spanish.

"If you listen close, I could teach you Corrido de Joaquín Murrieta," he says, and Arthur must look lost. Javier rubs his mouth, studying him. He speaks slower now, gesturing with his hand as if to lay out the letters: "Maybe La Llorona would be better. It's just a few lines."

He nods, but he can feel his eyes widen. "Sure thing. I can try."

"La Llorona," Javier repeats. It is slow, and his voice is absent of the teasing he'd surely turn on anyone else.

"La," — twisting the switchblade in his fingers in thought — "Um, juh—"

"What?" Javier cuts him off, and the taunting tone is risen. "Where did you get a juh from, vaquero?"

Arthur's face grows hot. They decide to leave the Spanish lessons for another day; he feels a little disappointed.

He likes hearing him sing in his mother tongue.

The songs of his own childhood were embedded in him later into it: bleary memories of Hosea, hair still blond and drunk as a fish, drumming to the beat on Dutch's back to irritate him as they all sang through prison song after prison song. It was most of what his father taught him, he had said once, because he spent all but three months of Hosea's youth in jail. The rest of them, Hosea learned firsthand.

By some stroke of luck, Javier knows one.

Well, the sheriff told his deputy; won't you go out and bring me Lazarus? A call to and back. Javier looks far happier than he should for such a song, stomping in time with Arthur.

Well, the sheriff tol—

"Shit!"

Blood drips from the juncture between his thumb and pointer finger, and Arthur tosses his pocket knife into the dirt as if it has teeth. Judging by the modest sized hole in his hand's webbing, it may as well.

"The Hell did you—? Dios, be more fuckin' careful," Javier hisses, raising to come to his side.

An odd type of pain blossoms from the puncture, and he cringes as he moves his thumb to allow Javier a decent look at it.

"I weren't payin' attention, blade was still out," Arthur explains. He peers at it, then shakes his head and turns away with a sneer. "There's a damn hole in me and it ain't hardly bleedin'. That ain't right."

Javier begins to say something, and then shuts his mouth around the first syllable. His fingers are careful where they splay Arthur's fingers open, touch the back of his hand. In another situation, it might even feel nice to have his skin stroked this way.

"I'll admit, it's... weird to look at."

The pad of a finger nears the opening and Arthur grimaces, partly from irritation and partly from an intrusive vision of Javier poking his finger right into the wound. It lights his nerves up, as if his body is as disgruntled by the thought as his brain is.

Oh, Jesus, that's a bad feeling.

"Why's it dark in there? Looks empty," he continues, and Javier laughs easily. "Where's the— I dunno, the muscles and shit?"

Javier retracts his touch, pats him on the head. "Shut up, chiquillo. I'll wrap it for you."

"That better not mean stupid," he gripes.

He huffs a laugh. "Nothing about your intelligence," he reassures. "Means you are a big baby." Arthur scoffs; still, he won't look at his hand. Javier approaches a snorting Boaz to rifle through his saddlebag, takes out a rag and tears a strip off. "I think it has a better ring to it."

On the larger portion of cloth, he tips water from the flask laying beside their tent. Javier works quick, but light; his hand is wrapped around the palm to let him flex it without opening the wound up for dirt and infection. It is a hard area to protect, they agree, but Arthur will survive.

He really doesn't know why it bothers him so much. His stomach ain't weak, not after the gore he's seen and caused — why's a tiny hole in his hand so freaky?

Javier settles by his side, after, and smooths a hand down the patch of forearm his rolled up sleeves exposes. It takes some of his mind off the dilemma of just what is inside his body, rubbing up on all of his bones — a horrible train of thought — to have his rough palm stroking his arm so tenderly.

"I can sing to you, instead," he offers, face relaxed again.

"I ain't on my deathbed," Arthur says.

The warmth in his face must speak for itself. Javier sings for a while, until his throat sparks up phantom pains.

It isn't the first time anyone has seen Strauss and Hosea dancing, but the pair bring Arthur to tears each time, tears of amusement. The alcohol in his system doesn't hurt, though a large dinner is absorbing his first beer, and fast.

They'd hit a gold mine — so to speak, if only — on the way home, a massive buck that Arthur's big girl could barely handle after a nasty field dressing. With its size and the money a best-cut hide could fetch, not to mention the antlers, it was worth the strain on his horse to bring it back home to Pearson and Hosea for skinning. Arthur made sure to find her a sugar cube for her hard work.

It happened to be found in Kieran's tent, but he will be too hungover in the morning to notice and Arthur, too hungover to remember his theft.

Their return didn't come without an nth retelling of Arthur's grand fish haul of yore, as Hosea called it, which made his face burn in something like shame, as it always does. Especially for Javier to hear it after teasing over his fishing skills so often; he had turned and asked if he still pays for his better catches at the market, considering...

Nor did the haul come without a party. None of the gang had seen so much meat in close to a year, let alone been able to eat any of it. Pearson said it ought to have weighed a hundred and ten pounds or more.

Javier clapped Arthur on his sore back with a toothy grin. We did good, and yes, they had, as far as Arthur was concerned. He shouldn't need to go hunting for a month.

Hallelujah.

And now Strauss is twirling Hosea around their campfire, struggling to reach over the taller man's head; Javier mindlessly strums new chords to an old song that Strauss half-remembered from Austria and taught the lot of them years ago, some leigst mir am Herzen, leigst mir im Sinn; Dutch is running his mouth to an unenthused Lenny, who seems to be trying in earnest to mumble the German words that Uncle is singing with his chest.

Arthur and Mary-Beth are vaguely following the other dancing couple, the woman quick to dodge his two boot-clad left feet to save her bare toes from crunching. What a sight those old coots make, stumbling around in a shoddy ländler and hollering every time Hosea is held like a lady would be.

A wasted Sean trades into Mary-Beth's spot followed by a shriek of laughter from the fire, and the lady joins Karen instead. Arthur is just tipsy enough to allow it.

Sean's skinny hand is clammy and dwarfed in his injured one, and both join in vaguely singing so, so, wie ich dich liebe! He can tell the Irishman is sloshed, not only by his breath and how often he accidentay kicks Arthur in the ankles, but because of how he presents his freckled cheek and batters his lashes at the end of the verse.

"You's the ugliest girl at the hoedown," Arthur grins, and can't name each man that finds the whole thing hilarious. He can name each one who finds him kissing his scruffy cheek funny, when Sean rolls his eyes and taps it: all of them laugh, a ruckus loud enough that they will be lucky to not have been ambushed by morning.

The joy hurts his face, though maybe the smile is more of a grimace after having his arms around the redhead, sniffing on that constant hay and liquor smell he carries.

He forgets it by trading for Karen's hand. She is much prettier; he gives her a kiss, too. She makes conversation on what happened to his hand, and offers a playful tut about his carelessness.

When, at last, the song changes twice over, he drops his ass to sit on a log beside a tuckering out Hosea. Rubbing the slight sheen of summer heat off of his face and accepting a beer from the old man, he swipes his gaze around the fire only to notice Javier is glaring daggers at him, fingers picking hard at the strings.

He raises his brows in a silent who, me? Dark eyes return to the neck of the acoustic, and he flubs a note as he begins the next song.

The look throws Arthur off, but he watches Javier playing, anyways. It's no safe bet: his heartrate drums a little faster whenever the man's eyes move from the frets or the body, anticipating a call-out and a what're you starin' at, queer? to save face.

Javier isn't hard to read nor please, as so many of the gang claim. If a man learns how to see his aggression and how to shut his trap appropriately, Javier tends to like him. He's knocking on the guitar body, now, introducing some percussion to the song between quick plucks of the strings.

It must be why the two of them have always gotten along so well. Hosea once told him his habit of wanting to placate others to an abnormal degree was because he was beat as a kid, but he was fifteen and...

He focuses his vision, blinks as it comes into relative sharpness again. "Hey, Hosea?"

Next to him, Hosea turns from speaking lowly to Dutch, who is crouching beside him with a cigar on his lip. He leans over to look at Arthur, too, as if he asked for both of them.

"Yes, son?"

"You remember when," — furrowing his brows, finding such a long sentence hard to string together as the last of his third beer settles into his bones — "I's a kid and you, uh... said I'm a people pleaser all 'cuz my daddy beat me?"

His brows shoot up. "Jesus," he whispers, mouth spreading in a smile that's all nerves and surprise before returning to its usual firm line. "I do. Why?"

"I want'a say 'm sorry for— uh, sayin' your daddy woulda beat you, too," Arthur apologizes, as sincerely as he can. Both of his fathers blanche. "Y'know, if he weren't locked up, he woulda..." He twirls his hand as if to demonstrate a longer explanation laying in the air before them, then scratches the back of his neck with it. "Sorry I said that t'ya. Them years ago."

Dutch grabs Hosea's arm as if to steady himself, mouth split in an amused grin. The blond sucks his lips in, and nods.

"Why, that had't've been a whole score ago," Hosea says. "Don' worry, son."

"I dunno," he says. "'S only time you ever slapped me."

Hosea's ears turn red, and he pats Arthur's bicep affectionately. "Well, I wasn't tryna be another type like your father."

"You's always like my real dad. Sorta."

He pauses, mouth opening and then closing as if he isn't sure how to respond to that drunken confession.

Dutch has sunk to his knees on the grass beside the log, leans over with an elbow on Hosea's thigh. "Say, son," he begins, tossing a thumb to Javier and speaking low. "Why don't you go back to gawkin' at your man in silence?"

It's his turn to blush. "I weren't... the fuck'chu mean," — raising his voice to match Dutch's strained tenor, cracking the words in half to piss him off — "My man, you sack of—?"

"Well," Hosea interjects, then, straightening his pants legs at the knees. He raises with a click of his joints. "Sounds like time for me to get outta here."

Hours pass, maybe two. Arthur's pissed twice counting this toilet run, downed two more beers, threw back two shots of something strong-tasting, and danced twice more. He is coming to like the number two.

Whoever gave Uncle a harmonica, however, Arthur does not like.

Sure, the man has clearly played one before, but every wandering cowboy has handled a harmonica. Someone must be able to make it sound better than this, so shrieking it's driven Arthur doubly as far away as he'd normally go to take a leak. The man who wrote this song, the one that the few remaining around the fire begin to stomp and clap to — Arthur's hand throbs, fingers fumbling at his fly — the feller who wrote my girl, my girl, in the pounds, in the pounds, so on and so forth... he must be rolling in his grave.

Javier could make the shrill cry of the harmonica sound good, he thinks idly. Teetering on wasted, fishing himself from his drawers in the darkness outside of camp's edge, he notices that the guitar stopped.

What kind of music would he play, if he were a musician? 

It's a lovely thought, now. Arthur is warm with alcohol and loose enough at the shoulders to entertain the fancy without self-flagellating. He'll have to chew on what Dutch teased him for when he's sober, if he remembers it at all, but for now he thinks of Javier as his man and feels a smile gnawing at him.

Does he want him like that?

Arthur isn't sure, but he thinks it is one of those rare scenarios where neutrality speaks more volumes than both disgust and adoration. A man who was merely lonely, in the sexual sense, wouldn't be so fond of another feller's voice, or the way he struts with his gun belt clanking and yelling out how big and bad he thinks he is, or—

"There you are, Arthur."

Javier's voice makes him jump, hands flinching. How does this guy always find him?

"Just about zipped my damn pecker off," he hisses, turning over his shoulder to glare at him.

Well, he hopes it's a glare. He has a hard time expressing the right things when he's shitfaced.

And Javier is getting close, placing a hand on the back of his neck and stroking the sweat-soaked skin there, clipped nails scratching the shortest hairs at his nape. He swallows a groan.

"Enjoying the party?" He asks, as if Arthur ain't pissing right there and as if he isn't tenderly caressing him all the while.

He shakes himself, stuffs his dick back in his pants and does them up. "I'm enjoyin' the drinks," he says. "Missin' the music."

Javier chuckles. He turns Arthur easily, slots his body to his with his arms around his waist; Arthur smells vodka on his breath, remembers him taking shots alongside the handful of them who had before the bottle ran out.

That's probably why I'm hammered.

"What'chu up to, mister?" He asks lightly. Javier's face, already unclear in the night, has turned to his chest. If Arthur isn't entirely lost, he thinks the man's stomach contracts short and quick where it presses to his own. "Javier. Are you sniffin' me?"

Alright, so he's hammered, too.

He leans back. The whites of his eyes near glow, the collar of his white shirt as stark; his dark hair fades into the background, but his dark eyes don't.

They're hot. At least, their fixation makes Arthur's face feel hotter, and he doesn't care if anyone sees them embracing like this.

"You smell good, vaquero," he says simply. He runs a hand up his right side, over the underside of the arm to splay it outwards before he wraps his fingers around those of his uninjured hand in an awkward, but tight hold. "I wanna dance with you. You didn't let me, earlier."

"Never asked, did you?" Arthur asks, confused.

"No. You had that Irish hog on your hip."

He balks. "For a minute, maybe." Despite himself, he puts his arm around Javier's shoulders, big enough to encircle them. "Is that why you kept lookin' at me like I called your momma a tart?"

Javier blinks, as if he is scanning his memory for what the word means. Then, he frowns. "Sean's an asshole," he repeats, and the softer syllables slur together. "He said my dick's small."

Where a sobered Arthur would laugh at the childish hint of hurt in his voice, he merely raises his brows.

"Were he lookin' at it?" He asks, unsure where the twinge of— whatever emotion that's chafing on him comes from.

Jealousy? Something like anger?

The cackle from the other man tells him the question came out wrong. "Aye, you know how to comfort a man, vaquero," he teases, and Arthur realizes where his words went wrong.

"I didn't mean it like that," he says, and then pauses. "Not that, uh, your prick's small." Javier goes quiet, lets him flounder with a smile pulling at his lips. "I mean, it's... it's real..." — flushing, wanting to stop talking immediately, but knowing Javier will press him until he finishes his sentence — "Nice. I just didn't mean to say it, at first."

"Oh, it's only nice?" Javier rubs a hand at the small of Arthur's back, where sweat pools beneath his button-down. "I'd figure—"

"I don't wanna know what you figure," he sputters, trying to save his own dignity. "God, c'mon, didn't you wanna dance?" Arthur squeezes his hand. "Let's dance, vacay-row."

Javier snorts. "If you stop butchering my language, we'll dance all night."

"How'd you say it, then?" Arthur asks, brows knitting in genuine dismay.

Inhibitions so forgotten, he feels wholeheartedly a need to impress Javier, as if a redneck speaking Spanish with a thick accent but moderate fluency would be able to. He ought to just shut his gob after one or two beers, seal right over it with tape maybe; Arthur never seems to think of that option until he's already knee-deep in an avoidable, embarrassing situation.

To his surprise, Javier replies gently: "Vaquero."

He tries his best, with his eyes peering into his soul like this. "Va... Va-kee-row."

"Close," Javier says. He glances around, then leans up and presses his lips to the lobe of Arthur's ear. His breath reeks of vodka, and he wanders how many shots he took to lose his apprehension about camp. Normally, he wouldn't spare Arthur a handshake two miles from this place. "Vaquero."

He swallows, throat clicking. "Vaquero."

A kiss is tucked behind the corner of his jaw. "There you go," he says. "Beun chico."

"Is that an insult?" Arthur asks, but lets himself relax anyways. "Sounds like what you said yesterday.

"Sí. It is a different insult, though."

He sighs. Javier grins, wide, looks so handsome. The urge to kiss him is difficult to resist. They haven't moved at all, a realization met in tandem.

Javier moves easier than he does, already poor at these close-quarters dances and stomach flipped by how his partner is much nearer than he needs to be. It does not sync to the music from camp, whatever that might be; his ears are ringing a little, Javier's nose pressed firmly into his neck and his breath steady and slow at it. Sleep might have taken him, if he weren't moving his feet alongside Arthur's, and he wanders if he's smelling him again. He can't smell like much besides perspiration and whatever men usually stink of when they've been rotting out in the woods.

His gentleness is nice.

If Arthur shuts his mind off, he only knows of Javier's heat against him and their legs stumbling together and how his fingers clumsily work over his hand and wrist until they finally lace with his. If he comes back into his mind to tune out the sounds of camp— he can focus on the bugs and birds chirping in the evening outside, a hot summer wind rustling the leaves, the sound of their clothes rustling together. Their palms are growing clammy where they meet.

It's nice, until Javier yanks himself away. If he were a dog, his ears would be pricked; instead, he snaps his face back toward camp. He storms off with a seething: "Some rat is playing my fucking guitar."

[pilfappreciator]

Can you write about Veneer... Just, like, anything at all. I'm BEGGING. They could be headcanons, drabbles, oneshots, ANYTHING. My little gay mind can't handle it. If you don't have any ideas here are some that I have off the top of my head ^_^ (also if you could make any of these male reader I will love you forever BUT you obviously don't have to <33)

- Baking with him (but either veneer or the reader is a nightmare in the kitchen and everything goes wrong)

- Having a slumber party !! (Doing eachothers nails, hair, makeup, watching movies, just talking, possibly falling asleep in eachothers arms and being embarrassed in the morning)

- Playing hide and seek together

- CHRISTMAS WITH VENEER!!! (Decorating the house/Christmas tree, getting presents, playing out in the snow, just general festive activities:3)

- Reader who has a shit ton of stuffies and has named them all (introducing them to Veneer, cuddling, fluffy things)

- Eepy time (sleeping/cuddling hcs, shenanigans, not being able to fall asleep, weird midnight chats)

I had more but I forgot....

NAHHH UR LITERALLLY SO BASED I LOVE YOU FOR THAT!!! Veneer is literally such a criminal cuz like?? He kidnapped someone, tortured them, AND he stole your heart??? SOMEONE STOP HIM ASDKJALJSLD

Ended up combining a few of your ideas into one big concept! Hope you don't mind :3

Also heads up that this takes place before the events of Band Together took off! Just figured it'd be kinda hard to throw a sleepover when your ass is literally in prison lol

Veneer x Reader: when your favorite twink invites you to a sleepover

Includes: Male! Reader, sleepover shenanigans, fluff, slight angst, gaygaygaygay—

💎 You and Veneer would have to be INCREDIBLY close before he even considered invited you over

💎 Tbh I feel like getting invited to hangout with this guy in any way is actually? Kind of a privilage?? Like his fame is obviously a big factor in that but growing up, I doubt he had any actual friends who weren't his sister. I imagine him as kinda shy and non-confrontational as a kid, and though Velvet wasn't the BEST sibling, she never hesitated to cuss out whatever poor soul chose to pick on her brother. She's always been the one to lead and Veneer has always just followed

💎 I mean... the guy literally participated in tortue just cuz his sister told him to. He sheep coded as hell 😔

💎 So yeah, this boy probably has like zero experience when it comes to having friends who don't use him for his fame and/or are related to him by blood. Luckily you came along! Now he's actually got someone with whom he shares a genuine connection with!!

💎 Whether that connection is strictly platonic has... yet to be determined >;3c

💎 WITH THAT BEING SAID!! This guy has never once participated in a sleepover (hanging out in his sister's room doesn't count), and he's got absolutely no clue what to do ://

💎 Will conduct numerous amounts of research days in advance! And by research, I mean he's binging all his favorite chick flicks and having Krimp take notes aslkdhaljsdl

💎 FR THO!! THIS BOY IS JITTERY AS HELL WHEN THE TIME COMES TO ASK YOU OUT OVER LIKE---!

💎 "Oh heyyyy, (____)! Fancy seeing you here!"

"This... is my house?"

"R-right, right! Obviously! Um, anyway, do you like sleeping?"

"Uh."

"Also, u-uh, totally unrelated but have you ever wondered what the inside of my house looks like?"

💎 Pls just accept his invitation. If he gets any redder he might pop a blood vessel or something

💎 Heaves out the BIGGEST sigh once you say yes. He'll try to play himself off as nonchalant even though he's absolutely ecstatic, but like... the boy is literally vibrating with excitement okay, he's not fooling anyone lol

💎 Once the big day comes and you show up to his house— sorry, MANSION? Prepare yourself cuz he is most definitely giving a tour. From the indoor pool, to the outdoor pool, to the personal studio/production room, to the many walk-in closets, to a room that is literally just one big ball pit, to a heigh-ceiling hallway just lined with photos/painting of him and his sister... he is NOT afraid to show off asdkajsdlkhjf

💎 (Sidenote: don't worry about Velvet potentially intruding on the sleepover. She's agreed to step out for the day on her brother's behalf. Was definitely pretty pissy about having to vacate her own home but eventually relented... but Veneer definitely owes her for her kindness)

💎 Yknow all those cliche sleepover activities people do in movies? Yeah, you guys are doing literally all of them

💎 Such a dumbass <33

💎 NO LIKE ACTUALLY THO?? Krimp made Veneer a list of popular and totally optional things to do at a sleepover and the second he saw it, he was just like "uugh, seems like a lot of work but I GUESS I'll do it 🙄"

💎 You guys are painting your nails matching colors, doing facemasks, messing around with each others' hair— the whole shebang!! And considering this dude is rich as fuck, you just KNOW he's got nothing but all the top-of-the-line products 😤😤. Only the finest for him (and you <33)

💎 LET HIM DO YOUR MAKEUP!! I feel like he really enjoys it as a whole! Like it's probably his favorite part of getting ready for shows or just his day in general, and the only person he's done makeup for is Velvet (tho those instances were VERY rare)... but if you just? Suggest that he does yours for you?? Like just sitting back so he can do his thing, allowing him to call the shots like he rarely ever does???

💎 Literally swooning SO HARD ASLDHKALKJSJDLKJA

💎 Unfortunately the whole thing kinda backfires on him cuz: 1) you're already super cute without makeup, and 2) he knows what he's doing and could easily boost someone's looks with just some eyesliner and the right shade of lipstick

💎 He makes you look hotter, is basically what I'm getting at

💎 He's not sure if he's just done himself a huge favor or screwed himself over for the rest of the night

💎 Considering his crazy wealth and the fact he probably grew up pretty sheltered/spoiled, I doubt this boy knows anything about how a kitchen works lol. Like most of his meals were either made for him by Krimp or served at high-end hoity-toity restaurants with caviar that probably cost more than most organs sell on the black market ://

💎 So yeah, dinner is really gonna come down to you and your skill level

💎 If you know you're away around, CONGRATS!! You've just signed yourself up for cooking lessons with Veneer! And yes, the kitchen WILL end up a mess (but no worries, he'll just make Krimp clean it up). You'll definitely have to take the lead here and he's more than happy to let you do so! Just tell him what spices you need or what utensil to grab, and his ass is on it 🫡 If you wanna teach him how to knead dough or peel certain ingredients?? He won't complain (especially if said activity requires you two to be in close proximity hehe)

💎 Do NOT leave him alone in the kitchen for more than 10 seconds. You'll just return to find him trying to cut strawberries with the dull side of a knife u_u

💎 If you're also total shit in the kitchen?? No worries! Veneer may be living that high life but he's not above ordering takeout lol

💎 Remember those chick flicks I mentioned earlier? Yeah, you two are totally running a marathon of those. If you happen to have any good recs or other movies you happen to like?? He's totally willing to give them a try! Just know that if it's a scary movie… he's gonna be wrapped around you like a koala and screaming into your ear at every jumpscare

💎 He may be talentless but this boy can hit a high note if he feels he's in danger

💎 He may be different from his sister in some ways, but one attribute he shares with her is the fact that he's a TOTAL GOSSIP LIKE?? THIS BOY IS MORE THAN PREPARED TO SPILL THE TEA ON ANY GIVEN OCCASION—

💎 "Oh my gosh, did you HEAR about what happened to Nikki Mirage the other day??"

"No? Wait, who's that again?"

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHO--- okay, sit down so I can educate you 😤"

💎 Him and Velvet literally thrive on drama, idk what else to tell you

💎 (he might also spill some tea about his sister... nothing too incriminating, but like, a few embarrassing childhood stories couldn't hurt, right?)

💎 Late night talks are a MUST!! At some point in the night the two of you end up like... nestled under the covers of whatever fort you guys threw together... you're facing each other, heads centimeters apart as you share a pillow... whispering and giggling for no real reason...

💎 Maybe he vents a little about his insecurities and the way Velvet treats him, less like a brother and more like a shadow she can manipulate as she pleases... and maybe you grab his hand under the blanket... yknow, just to comfort him or whatever...

💎 Veneer only ever gets physical affection when he visits his parents, and even then it's just like? The bare minimum?? Pats on the head/shoulder/back, brief hugs, chaste kisses on his cheek— that kinda crap. And it's so tragic cuz this boy is literally the biggest little spoon to ever spoon. Like actually pls just hold him

💎 If he wakes up the next morning to find you laying behind him? Arms wound around his middle?? You face burried against his neck/shoulder blades/top of his head????

💎 He is not moving from that spot even after you wake up too <33

Cannibal, I absolutely ADORE YOU FOR THIS ASK!! LITERALLY SO FUN TO WRITE SAKLJASADKJSD THANK YOU SO MUCH <3333 (was originally gonna split this into two parts but was like, "nah, this ask deserves to be hella long" uwu)

Veneer redemption arc when??

[sourpatchys]

Title: Life in Carnet

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: PG-13, fluff. F!reader

Time: after Overhaul, before PLF

Summary: An issue has developed. Though, you can’t say you mind much. The future is yours.

A/n: This was supposed to be much longer and I may still add a second part later on, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for much too long and I decided it was finally time to just post it and let it out into the world!

Masterlist guidelines

—

The terrors of the underworld were almost too much for you at times. Watching over your shoulder just to be sure a knight in shining armor wouldn't pop out and slice you under the guise of misplaced justice.

There was no justice in a world so cruel. The arms of the masses kept those unfavorable in a tube. Never to be loved, never to be seen or heard. Though that tube would grow, freaks of nature holding hands inside the vessel, ready to break the glass.

It was almost poetic, knowing that loneliness could never touch you, it could only stand by and watch as you desecrated its makeshift grave.

You were not lonely— and you never would be again.

The deadly hands of the misunderstood held you close, a warm embrace that shunned all the coldness and misfortune in the world. You were like royalty, standing above those who were nothing but pawns ready to die for the cause.

You were not ready to die, you had finally spread your wings— you were ready to live.

And who better to stand by your side than the King of demise, Tomura Shigaraki.

In his own way, he had become the very thing he hated most— a symbol of peace. He gave hope to those the world had shamed, giving a reason to live to the ones left to rot in the gutters.

Hero's couldn't save everyone— Hero's didn't want to save everyone. Anyone who goes against their morals is doomed to suffer.

It pained you to see the children left to die on the streets, the addicts that had been deemed lost causes, and the broken who were left to crumble. You could see a piece of yourself in all of them, their rose tented glasses had been shattered and they were left to cut themselves on the glass.

Tomura didn't care much for any of them, and yet he had still managed to replace that in which had been broken.

He cared for the league, for the posey he had created with his own two hands. And he cared for you. The woman he saw cursing the world with blood stained hands.

Your introduction to the league wasn't pretty. You were dirty and untamed— having just taken the life of someone you held dear— there was darkness in your eyes.

No one asked you questions, no one made you feel like a freak. You became their healer— using your quirk to its fullest potential, never once holding back.

Your ability was known as the 'Touch of life'. Originally, you had hated your quirk. Being pawned off from person to person, forced to heal strangers who saw you as an object more than a person. Growing up you weren't allowed to attend school, forced to stay home and work— not a dime going into your pocket.

People were supposed to want to help people. That's what you had been told over and over again. You couldn't complain, you couldn't fight back or refuse to help.

You didn't want to help anymore.

The league never made you heal their scrapes and bruises, only asking for your services when it was absolutely necessary. You finally felt free— free to be a real human being.

And then Shigaraki, a man usually so careful with his hands, had sliced his palm. You couldn't even remember how— the memory had long since faded away. You grabbed him without thinking, taking his entire hand into your own, stitching the skin back together with a ray of light.

That's how you learned you were immune to decay. Your body fighting against his quirk so quickly it was at if he didn't have one at all.

And that's how you learned you loved your quirk after all.

Once it became apparent, he couldn't keep his hands off of you. He was like a wild animal hunting its prey— a touch starved villain feeling for the first time.

He was gentle with you, holding you close, running his calloused hands up and down your sides, forever in awe at the feel of your skin on his own. Awkward and untamed, vibrating with uncertainty and longing for more.

His kisses felt like fireworks, they seared into your skin, dangerous and yet oh so wonderful. He was addicted to you, and soon enough you were just as addicted to him.

Your relationship had no title— though with the way his scared lips would trail up your throat, nipping and pleading— you were sure it was love just the same.

Regardless of the tender kisses and soft touches, Shigaraki was still a deadly man. The king of the underworld, the high ruler of chaos.

So when you saw those glaring, unforgiving, bright pink lines, you found yourself being swallowed whole.

Your body was shaking, from fear or joy you couldn't be sure. It was unrealistic to bring a child into the world, especially when that world was crumbling— when the father was the one crumbling it.

You couldn't hold back a smile though, your anxieties fading quickly at the thought of a future. Placing your life giving hands over your abdomen— it felt right. You finally— undeniably— felt whole.

Dabi was the first one to notice you after you'd left the makeshift restroom, his piercing blue eyes looking you up in down with a frenzy.

"You look creepier than usual."

The rest of the leagues eyes met your own, their own curious glances boring into your soul.

"I have no idea what you mean by that— but I feel like I should be offended." You mocked a scoff, cocking your eyebrow in amusement.

Toga laughed, sitting up straight and tapping the cold cement floor beside her, urging you to sit with her. "You do look a little brighter than usual!"

You took the invitation, a small smile still grazing your lips. It was impossible to fully contain yourself— you were sure you'd explode if you had to reel in all of your facial expressions.

"I just got some good news is all— I wouldn't worry about it."

"Did that 12 handed freak finally propose or something?"

A small snort left your lips, "No, not to my knowledge. Speaking of— where is he?"

"Ohhh, so it does have to do with him!" Toga wiggled her eyebrows, giggling to herself.

Your relationship with Shigaraki wasn't a secret. Neither of you had said anything to anyone, but you weren't actively hiding it either— it just was.

Giving the teen a gentle shove you allowed yourself to let out a soft laugh of your own, "doesn't everything have to do with him?"

You got a strong mumble of agreement from the group, their annoyed expressions almost making you laugh fully.

"He said he'd be back before nightfall." Dabi finally metered, "Then again, who knows?"

Humming in response you decided to sit tight, pulling a heavily water damaged book out of your backpack.

— — —

Somewhere along the pages of Prince Charming finally realizing the girl of his dreams was only a few feet away— you had dozed off.

It wasn't often you got the privilege of sleep, the constant traveling and change of pace was hard on your body and mind. So being shaken awake wasn't exactly something you'd normally let slide— but seeing those carmine eyes so full of worry, you decided it wasn't a hill worth dying on today.

"Good morning." You sighed, slowly blinking the harsh tingling of your sleep deprived eyelids away.

Tomura wasn't amused by your lackluster approach, his body basically caging you in from where you sat, his eyes growing darker by the second.

"How are you feeling?"

At first his question confused you— your dreams still drifting away as reality tried to take over. Oh yes, that's right— he'd known you hadn't been feeling well.

If you weren't so sleepy you'd probably be more embarrassed over the fact that you had in fact— only grabbed a handful of pregnancy tests and booked it out of the closest convenience store. You hadn't even tried to get anything else.

A giggle left your lips as you leaned forward and gave your captor a kiss on the cheek, "it's fine don't worry about it."

Sighing he shifted so he was sitting beside you, his hand immediately grabbing yours. He loved holding your hand— you weren't sure if it was just to remind himself that he could or if it was lasting deprivation from being touched starved for so many years— but you couldn't find it in yourself to care, so long as he never let go.

"You haven't been eating right."

It was a statement meant to guilt you, to force you to tell him every single thing that's been bothering you— to outline your sickness in a bullet point list so he could take care of you.

"Is that so?" You turned to him with a raised brow, daring him to continue on with his spiel.

He, ever so observant, took the bait and ran with it.

"You can't keep anything down, you're light headed, and you're way too exhausted for everything to be fine." His voice broke a bit at the end, and with good reason. Not being in good health while simultaneously living on the streets isn't exactly a good combo.

He cared about you too much to let anything bad happen. After dealing with the yakuza he'd slowed down entirely, refusing to move too fast or too far until he knew exactly what needed to be done— all because you weren't feeling good. He'd never say it out loud— but it was easy to tell.

"It's not something I'll die from, modern medicine will make sure of that."

Turning his head and looking you up and down, he had a borderline disgusted look on his face.

"You've been sick for how long now? And you've shown no signs of getting better."

You hummed, putting your hand on your chin and pretending to think. "Yeah I'd say it's been a good two months now."

"This isn't a joke."

Giving him a serious expression, you replied "I know it isn't, you definitely aren't going to think it's funny—the league might though."

He smacked his head against the back of the crate the two of you were leaning on, looking up at the broken ceiling. "So you are dying."

"I already told you I won't die." You punched his arm, "I'll just be out of commission for a little while."

"And what, exactly, does that mean?"

You let out a nervous laugh, leaning your head on his shoulder, "it means next time we go out we're gonna have to steal some prenatal vitamins."

You felt his body stiffen under you after a few minutes, his mind putting the dots together painfully slowly. This isn't exactly how you thought this conversation would go— though knowing Tomura, he'd never expected this conversation at all.

"Oh."

Afraid to see his expression, you kept your eyes towards the floor, squeezing his hand that was still wrapped in yours.

"Is that okay..?"

It was silent for a while, the sound of the other members snoring being the only noises keeping you sane. You knew this may not go over well, even as excited as you were, Tomura had an entire world to destroy, he had people to kill and a kingdom to build. How would a baby fit into that life?

Finally, you felt a large inhale from under you— taking that as permission you looked up to his face, surprised when you saw the fond look in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips.

"Yeah, that's more than okay."

You sat up, lifting your head off of his shoulder to look him directly in the eyes, awe, ever apparent, on your face.

"Really? You aren't mad?"

A dastardly grin made its way onto his face, his pearly white teeth glistening in the moonlight. Truly— it was a sight to behold.

"I don't see anything wrong with carrying on my lineage— especially not with you." He chuckled, a dark frenzy coming into his eyes, "besides, you hang back anyways, nothings going to hurt you."

You thought on his words. It was technically true, being a healer meant you weren't fighting so much as laying low and taking care of the aftermath— the only change you could see happening is you not being on the battlefield at all, staying at the base until they returned.

But that came with some risks on its own.

"You're taking this better than I thought you would."

That same gleam was in his eyes as he looked you over, his hands making their way around your waist as he pulled you into a tight embrace, inhaling the scent of your not-so-freshly washed hair.

"I suppose I should be nervous. But I always knew this was a risk." He took in a breath, a laugh passing through as he thought it over, "I'm ready for anything. I'm going to destroy this world, but that doesn't mean I can't make my own in the process."

The Tomura before you was different than the one you had fallen in love with. He was different than the one that pulled you off the street and gave you a reason to live— this Tomura was confident, this Tomura had a plan.

This Tomura knew what he wanted.

[samptlay]

To My Sweetheart Who Carries A Wounded Heart Ch. 11

Series Masterlist, Chapter 1 🤍, Chapter 2 🖤, Chapter 3 🤍, Chapter 4🖤, Chapter 5🤍, Chapter 6🖤, Chapter 7🤍, Blade & Reader's Relationship, Chapter 8🖤, Chapter 9🤍, Chapter 10 🖤

Special Thanks to @msun1c0rn @uhfhfhfhf @klemen-time @delulu-val @skyl8ver @ssecylia @xdrin & ALL of my taglist. I love you all so much 💕

Donuts? The delicious creamy-filled cloud of fluffiness that has you head over heels in love the first time you tried them over 20 years ago? And who would believe that they would show up at your doorstep being carried by your soulmate? Maybe you were exaggerating by calling him that but you two understood each other more than anyone else could. Looking up from the pink box you were staring at for too long, you’re met with crimson eyes pouring into your own, a small smile on the man’s face.

“Do those happen to be for me?” You smile back, opening the door wider to let Ren inside to which he happily accepts the invitation and heads inside before you close the door behind him and take the box from his hands as he removes his slides. “You know I don’t like sugar, so they aren’t for me.” He chuckles while hanging up his keys before you both go to the kitchen.

You set down the box of Sweet Haven on the counter while Ren invites himself to your fridge and grabs a can of root beer, knowing he doesn’t even have to ask since you specifically buy a whole pack for the fridge for him and only him to drink when he comes over. Levi enjoys alcohol and keeps a lot in the house while Ren finds it displeasing, and with how much he comes over, you didn’t want your friend to have anything to sip on during his (often, though not too many since you’re married and it would seem inappropriate) visits.

Just the thought of you going out of your way to buy things for the time you two spend together makes him want to latch onto your body and never let go, and Ren’s sure you wouldn’t mind that much. It’s not his fault you decide to do all this but like you always say, it’s the little things that count.

When he turned around and leaned against the fridge while opening the can, he couldn't help but observe your eyes lighting up at the sweets when you opened the box. Ren found it enduring. Since the box was yours, either way, you just stuffed one in your mouth while turning to him.

“Thanks for being here right now, and for bringing these. I needed company and I have no idea where Levi is.” At your husband's name, you could visibly see Ren's expression harden a bit, and it would have made you giggle any other day but you weren't in the mood for humor and he didn't look as sarcastic as usual.

“So he left you alone on this day, without even letting you know?” You swore you could almost see a blood vessel on his body pop, and immediately felt the need to soothe his concerns. “Right now is hard for both of us, I don't blame him so please call down, he’s dealing with this in his way.”

There you go again, always defending him even though he can see the hurt in your eyes. Ren was about to open his mouth to call him out himself and let you know that you deserve better, (Quite literally, he wasn't going to boost himself but inform you of how he should be here.) However, you opened your mouth again before he could.

“Though, I… He asked for some space from me yesterday night and I didn't want that. I want to be anything but alone right now. You know I don't like distance, I hate it. He should know that I would want to stick together as well, so why..? Do you think he's starting to resent me? Do you think he blames all of this on me? He-”

You fall silent once you look up to see Ren in front of you, one thumb wiping away the tears that have formed in your eyes, oblivious to you. His other arm was unoccupied, made its way to your waist, and held you tight against his chest. He was offering you comfort and you couldn't be more grateful.

“...It wasn't your fault. I'm aware of what you might be thinking right now but believe me. Don't beat yourself up over this it's him, his fault-”

It's all Ren can say at the moment, and he so desperately wished he could say more but his mind was blank if it was any other thought concerning you. Yet you didn't defend or deny what he said, proving it to be true in his eyes. He couldn't stand seeing you like this, your tears were so foreign to him and they broke his heart.

You can feel his broad muscles flex as he still keeps one arm around your waist as he reaches across the counter, grabs a tissue, and slowly brings it to your face, as if not to alarm you. It makes you warm inside, the fact that he's always been so gentle with you. Even as he wipes all the tears away you can feel he's doing it gingerly.

However, it wasn't warm enough for you. You still can't stand touching your stomach without almost gagging, you still can't think about the life lost, your very baby lost at your own hands. Ren knows his warmth isn't enough either when he feels and sees you trembling in his arms and the streams down your cheeks seem never-ending so he sighs and places the tissue down and replaces it in his hand, cradling your face back and forth.

It made you smile a little bit and you were about to apologize for embarrassing yourself like this but only a choked sob came out. You drop your head to his shoulder and everything that's been building up since yesterday pours out of your soul. You knew Ren wasn't judging, you knew he would never think of you negatively in any way and he knew you needed him right now.

~

After Ren had carried you to your living room and warmed you up into a blanket, he put on your favorite show and sat beside you. He wasn't reaching out to touch you, though it took everything in him to hold back from doing so every time he heard a sniffle from you.

He wanted to hold you, he really did and Ren knew you wouldn't deny him even if you felt guilty, but the thing is you're still a married woman. So for now he'll settle with being the one to comfort you as you grieve. After an hour, he can hear your soft breath hitting his neck. He recognizes the pattern in your breathing and doesn't even need to look down to know you're asleep. He'll carry you to your bed in a moment and stay in the guest room until you wake up and the two of you could talk again. Ren just has a feeling your husband won’t be showing up any time soon.

~

A/N: I'm backk! School's done and I have a lot of time on my hands so expect more updates, at MAX every two weeks (keyword, MAX) I'm sorry for the wait, thank you all for the encouragement to keep writing, otherwise I believe the hiatus would have lasted longer. I love you all. Also, I want to give a special thanks to a bunch of my taglist for always supporting my work and for the encouragement I got from them. They don't realize how much I adore them.

Taglist:

@uhfhfhfhf @xdrin @msun1c0rn @umi-adxhira @lovingnahida @strrawb3rrysh0rtcak3 @ssecylia @skyl8ver @immahuman @meowmeowraven @01234 @markexplanation @esthelily @dawnofazrael @chickenalfredo4life @eccaza @jun-xiu @klemen-time @delulu-val @everi-eve @cluelesstoeverything @strangersomeone @lapinaenmicoche @alwayslegendarymoon @lumiiiiiiiiii @superninjaarbiter

Borders by @cafekitsune

[landhoe-norris]

Hello everyone.

I wasn't going to say anything but i'm just gonna put it all out there.

My dad is in his last stage of life. For the past month, he's had two surgeries, and he's having his third one tomorrow. He is very sick; his heart and kidneys are weak, and he has major cardiovascular disease (concentrated mostly on his blood vessels).

My mom and I had a chat with the doctors today and confirmed that if he were to suffer any kind of setbacks (mainly in the surgery cause he might be too weak to survive it, but it's also very important that he get it), that he would not be put on a ventilator and that CPR should not be administered.

This is incredibly difficult, especially since I've recently become pregnant, and the thought of losing my dad before he meets my baby is heartbreaking. But I've also had years to actually settle with the fact that he might be gone before too soon. I'm still not entirely there, and I still cry every day, but his life is not of good quality, and it would be selfish to keep him here if things take a turn for the worse.

Right now, I don't give two fucks about F1, so I probably won't be on here much posting about it or answering asks. I do feel like writing, though, and I might pop in and post a fic or two, and I will of course still be overseeing and promoting the Carlando Summer Fest.

I've uninstalled Tumblr on my phone, so I'm not connected at all times anymore, so it might take me longer to answer messages, but I will, so if anyone wants to have a chat, I'll be around ❤️