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joontier · 4 years ago

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akin ka na lang (muli.) | drabble

translation: be mine (again.)

synopsis: Dr. Kim Taehyung, locally known for his successful cardio-thoracic surgeries. One thing he isn’t known for though, is that he’s your two-timing ex who’s come to visit you in the new hospital you work at.

pairings: taehyung x reader

rating: R (18+)

au: doctors!au; exes!au | genre: smut, slight angst, mentions of infidelity

warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, cunnilingus, degradation

word count: 2.2k

request: by @taemaknae “silakbo track feat. taehyung + doctor!au (because we need more doctor aus hehehe” SORRY IT TOOK A WHILE BABE!! but here ya gooo! I hope u enjoy it luv hehehhehe

g/n: this is part of The Paraluman Playlist - a drabble game we’re holding for the whole month of August!!! Send in your requests lovelies;; ((why do i get the feeling that this could be a good prologue too ajsdfhoaiwjef)) also,,, this might be a part of a fic crossover with one im working on right now with jk wOOPS

navi. | m.list

“And that concludes the reports for this month’s cardiac surgery reports.”

Ending your presentation with one last click of your pointer, you turn to your fellow doctors, resisting the strong urge to roll your eyes. Some of the seniors are already asleep, while those who are a closer to your age are obviously bored to the bone.

You’re seriously considering if you want to even bother asking the audience if they have any further questions when no one was listening in the first place anyways. Well, maybe except for the chairman who had been all ears the whole time.

Meetings like these are just a major waste of time – time you could have used to sleep your fatigue away after having completed a five-hour open heart surgery last night. If it only weren’t for the hospital’s board of directors that implemented this scheme.

The Ministry of Health and Welfare had only encouraged all hospitals to hold conferences like this to support medical-related research, but The Woocheon Group, after having been praised by the ministry itself for pioneering experimental medicine and clinical trials, upped its game, scheduling these quarterly conferences to monthly ones.

This plan would have sounded engaging to most third parties, but to those who were chosen to create reports, such as yourself, do not find these meetings most pleasant. After all, these month-end reports will also be uploaded to Woocheon’s online journals. Not that these doctors would even read any of those even if published both online or in paper. Unless of absolute necessity as reference, of course.

Your eyes scan over the audience consisting of at least forty doctors until you lock eyes with the one and only Kim Taehyung - infamous for his recently successful cardio-thoracic surgery on a twenty-two year old athlete back at Daegu Medical Center. Unfortunately for you, he’s also the same man who cheated on you for another colleague a few years back.

He was the reason you left DMC in the first place, unable to continue your career back at the center with such an unhealthy, hate-conducive environment. Obviously, you knew having to work with a cheater and having to face him for at least six days a week wasn’t going to do you any good. Hence, your moving to Seoul to officially pursue your fellowship at Woocheon Medical City. What you never expected though, was Taehyung coming all the way from Daegu to sit in with Woocheon’s internal conferences.

For what? Why was he here? What reason does he have to suddenly show up like this?

Whatever his business here was absolutely none of yours, and you promised yourself you were going to be the last person to concern yourself with such.

“Any further questions?”

You see Taehyung’s hand raise hesitantly, but retracts it quickly as another raises his hand. As you address the inquiry, you still feel Taehyung’s gaze locked on yours. Nobody dares to ask another question, not wanting to prolong the useless conference any longer. Thankfully, the hospital’s chairman ends the meeting shortly after that.

As you pack your things up while the rest of the crowd files out of the room, you feel someone approach you. In fact, you feel two - with both of the presences extremely familiar. When you look up from your desk, you see Taehyung and Chairman Jung Hoseok nearing the podium you stood behind from.

Taehyung lets the chairman approach you first. Good, at least the man still has a little bit of dignity left in him. “Dr. _______, great presentation today,” Hoseok applauds, “You are a blessing to this hospital,” the chairman adds, placing a hand on the small of your back.

“All in a day’s work, Chairman Jung,” you give the man a warm smile. Taehyung notices the small gesture and diverts his gaze quickly, as if he was caught watching something private. You smile inwardly, wanting to drop as many hints as possible to let the blonde-haired man he isn't welcome here.

The chairman finally takes notice of his presence as he turns around, much to your dismay. “Ah! Dr. Kim Taehyung! I wasn’t informed of your arrival… anyways, welcome to The Woocheon Medical City and may I introduce to you one of our best cardiology consultants here…”

“Dr. __________, of course.” A wide smile forms on Taehyung’s lips, reaching out his hand for a handshake. You hesitate for a split-second - torn between not wanting to be within arm’s reach of your traitorous ex-boyfriend, or maintaining your usual professional demeanor. Maybe it’s best for you to go with the latter, and pretend you two are meeting for the first time.

“We were colleagues back in Daegu Medical Center.”

Or maybe not.

Hoseok’s secretary comes over just in time, informing him of a friend who wishes to meet him outside as well as the rest of the day’s schedule. “Oh, guess I’ll have to meet that one then,” Hoseok says, turning to the both of you. “Well, I’ll have to leave you both for a moment. I’ll see you both around.” With a short wave, the chairman leaves the two of you to “catch up”.

“_________. Can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Dr. Kim. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have plenty of things to do.” Deciding not to meet his eyes, you scan the room, sending a silent plea to the last doctor who was getting ready to leave, wishing that he won’t leave you alone with this man.

Taehyung blocks your sight with his body. Clenching your jaw, you tilt your head at him, waiting on what he has to say now. “Come back to me, please…” A scoff escapes your lips as you roll your eyes at Taehyung.

“I’d even beg on my knees, _______. I’ll do whatever you want, baby.”

“You on your knees?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I am a changed man.”

“Fuck you, Kim Taehyung.”

“By all means, ________, please.” Rolling your eyes at your two-timing ex, you continue packing up, making sure you won't forget anything else on the desk. Funny how he can even extract innuendos from your display of hatred. At this point, Taehyung had already rounded the table and is now standing beside you.

You figure he’s fiddling with the projector (for all you care), that is, until you feel his warm breath fanning against your nape. His close proximity instantly gives you a chill and before you can turn to face him, he already has you trapped between his body and the podium.

Taehyung can't hide the smirk that graces his lips when he sees you gulp. Fueled by your reaction, he proceeds to reach for the clicker by the opposite end of the desk, bending you a little bit forward, all the while pressing his erection against your ass.

When he feels you hold your breath in, it only spurs him on, slowly grinding against you. “T-Tae…” you whisper out brokenly, weakly pushing away his firm hold on your waist. “You’re not…” All coherent thoughts get drained from your head when he takes your breasts in his hands, kneading them gently through your shirt, “...s-supposed to do….”

The door opens all of a sudden and the janitor enters, holding a plastic roll in his hands. Taehyung abruptly takes his hands off you, placing them inside his pockets instead. Thankfully, the janitor only takes notice of you and Taehyung’s presence after checking the trash bin by the last row and not when the latter had his hands all over you. “Oh, sorry Doc! I thought everybody had left already. I’ll just come back later.” Bowing once in your direction, he leaves quickly just as he had arrived.

As you turn around to confront Taehyung about his brazen behavior, he’s already there, suddenly connecting his lips with yours. Nearly loosing your footing at the unexpected action, Taehyung instinctively places his hands on your back, pushing you further towards him. You place your palms against his chest, not wanting to get scandalized by making out with a guest. “Taehyung…”

The blonde-haired man pulls away from the kiss, only to attach his lips on that certain spot on your neck that ultimately gets you weak in the knees. ‘Does he remember?’ You think, mind getting hazy over the feeling of his pliant mouth on your skin after all these years. Then again, your mind betrays you with the vivid image of him fucking your friend in your very room – inside the same apartment you shared with that friend he cheated on you with.

Your judgment gets clouded once more as he fumbles with your shirt, unbuttoning the first one – enough to leave a hickey just above the valley of your breast. Taking your bottom lip between your teeth to hold in the moan the threatens to escape your mouth, your fist tightens around the fabric of his collar.

Sliding the swiveling chair from underneath, Taehyung pushes you down onto the cushion of the seat. As he kneels to the ground, your heart beats rapidly in your chest, the anticipation causing to form a few beads of sweat by your hairline. Pleasure shoots through your core as he hikes your skirt up, rubbing his hands all over your thighs.

Having him touch you like this after so many years ignited that fire inside you once more, the almost foreign feeling ultimately driving you close to madness.

Fuck, you missed this. Not him. Not Taehyung. Whatever thing this was with Taehyung that was so deliriously enticing: this magnetizing aura that drew everyone to him without him having to even try. Unfortunately for you, it had also drawn unwanted attention from perpetually thirsty women. You missed these feverish kisses, featherlight touches that sent electricity pulsing through your veins.

You repeat the phrase in your head like a fervent prayer. You miss the idea of this Taehyung, the Taehyung that ravished you on a regular basis, like you were the irresistible flame to the metaphorical moth that was him.

“Tell me to stop, baby, and I will,” Taehyung rasps, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“No panties? Still my naughty little slut I see,” Taehyung remarks, as he sees your naked core. It’s shameful how you’re embarrassingly wet within a short period of time, but you no longer put much thought on it, especially with a handsome man like Taehyung on his knees for you.

With dilated pupils, Taehyung looks up and you knew you had both reminisced the time this same scenario happened in his office at DMC. The infamous surgeon draws you out of your reverie as he plants kisses along the expanse of your thigh.

Urgently wanting to fully express his intentions, Taehyung wastes no time, bunching up your skirt by your hips and diving in to flatten his tongue against your wet core. You gasp at the contact and you practically feel him smile at your responsiveness.

Taehyung starts with a slow pace, letting his tongue swirl all over your cunt. “Oh!” you breath out when he flicks your nether bud with his tongue. Taehyung keeps your legs apart with left hand while he dips a finger between your folds with the other. As you shudder at the sensation, Taehyung continues his ministrations, pushing his finger in, reveling in the way your walls clench around his digit.

“You’re still so tight after all these years,” the man says, diving in once more as he familiarizes himself once more of your addictive essence, licking and sucking at your core for all its worth like it’s his last day on the planet.

Just as you were about to climax, three knocks on the door resonate throughout the empty room, and as you push your thighs together and signaling Taehyung to keep quiet underneath the table, the door opens one more time and the chairman’s head pokes through the side, eyes scanning the room to look for you. Fixing your appearance discreetly, you put on a smile on your face, ignoring the frustration that came with not being able to orgasm properly.

“Wanna go grab lunch with me, sweetheart?”

“Sure. I’ll be out in a few, babe. Just… gotta go through some emails,” comes your breathless answer. “Okay darling. I’ll be waiting for you by my office.” When you feel Taehyung’s fingers start to dance back up along your legs, you swat them away, the realization of your unfaithful acts finally dawning on you.

“Stop it Taehyung and get up from there,” you tell him, pulling down your silk skirt that’s shamelessly bunched up around your hips. As you tame the creases on your skirt, the light above you hits the rock on your fourth finger. The gleam hits your eyes perfectly, the diamond on your engagement ring seemingly mocking you of your infidelity.

For the sake of your sanity, you don’t say another word to Taehyung who also had his eyes trained on your ring. Quickly you grab your things off the desk, not sparing your dejected ex-boyfriend a look. As you reach the door, you rest your head on the hard plastic, “I’m happy now, Taehyung. Please respect that.” With a sigh, you open the door, not daring to take a look back.

Taehyung nods silently, looking away from your figure as a tear rolls down his cheek, regret and longingness weighing on him heavily.

#bts smut #taehyung smut #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #btsguild #btsghostie #ksmutclub #paralumanplaylist #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader

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superspookywombat · 5 years ago

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Falling {j.h} chapter three

Warnings: poorly written description of drowning?? That’s about it, unless you count Bella and Edward being them awkward selves

Taglist: sleepy-whore geekysimmerthings mauvette268 treestarrrrrrrr kaleigh404 krazykatkay456 meganlikesfandoms darknacademia hi-my-name-is-riley vdtwsupernatural selmeuuh raindancer2004 wondersandtempests royale-trash-slytherin im-hella-bright bootylimpics livfg it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes

Fire spreading through your lungs forced you to snap your eyes open. All you saw was darkness. Coldness numbs your fingertips, a chill vibrating down your spine. You were suspended in a thick liquid, and instincts kicked in telling you to propel yourself to the surface. You stretch your arms out, but as you kick forward a sharp force yanks you back to where you started. Something teathers your right hand to the bottom of wherever you are. Opening your mouth to scream, metallic tasting thickness invades your tastebuds. It shoves itself down your throat, causing a squeezing feeling in your lungs. You know you need to breathe, but you can’t. You try to feel around for something- anything- that might help you escape. All that your fingers and toes feel is smoothness. A sudden wave of lightheadedness hits you, and the urge to breathe comes back stronger. A cough bubbles up from your throat and your mouth opens, you inhale, and you feel yourself suffocating. Your free hand flies to your throat, trying to physically make yourself stop trying to breathe. But eventually your brain realizes it's not going to get any more oxygen, and your body convulses once, twice, then three times. And then you’re gone.

You jolt upright in an unfamiliar bed. Your hand reaches for your throat, mouth open and gasping for air. Your heartbeat races, seemingly about to jump right out of your chest. Slowly, you release your throat, sure that the threat is gone. Your hands fall to a soft blanket, and you realize your surroundings- Bella’s room. You squint your eyes and make out Bella laying in her bed, covered in a thick blanket. Beads of sweat roll down your neck, but you still shiver. The alarm clock on the nightstand next to Bella claims that it’s 5:43, about an hour before it was set to go off. Today was your first day of school, so you figured that you’d get a headstart and take a shower.

Steam exposes itself as a thick fog, curling under the crack of the door that sheltered you from the cold world outside in the hallway. As the water drips down the small of your back, you tap your shaving razor against the cool tile to unclog the hair collected between it’s sharp teeth. Your armpits were shaved, so were your legs. You were almost out of things to shave. Almost.

After 45 minutes you figured that you needed to leave some hot water, or else you’d have to face the wrath of your sister, who desperately needed a shower in the morning to wake herself up. Rummaging through your half-unpacked suitcase, you glanced at Bella’s bed to make sure she was still knocked out. She was, as you expected. Grabbing onto a pair of embarrassingly bright pink underwear, some black leggings, and a bra, you walk back into the sweltering bathroom. After dressing- except for a shirt and socks- you walk back into the bedroom just as the alarm goes off. You flinch, glancing at the lump of blankets occupying Bella’s bed. It moves, a pale, feminine arm reaching out to slap the alarm clock.

“I can wake you up later so you can sleep in a bit more, if you’d like.” You offer, hoping to get on her good side. She sits up, a small yawn escaping her mouth. She runs her hand through her hair, then shakes her head.

“We’re leaving in ten.” She says. Taken aback by her excitement for school, you sit on your bed for a moment before reaching to grab a wrinkled t-shirt out of your bag. You put on some deodorant before pulling the (f/c) shirt over your still damp head. After slipping on socks and combing your fingers through your hair, you go downstairs. Bella stands by the front door, a granola bar hanging out of the corner of her mouth as she tries to slide on her boots while standing. You smile, then walk to the kitchen to grab some water and take painkillers for the headache invading your senses. Charlie is long gone, his cruiser pulling out of the driveway sometime after you got in the shower. You hear Bella shut the front door, then a sputtering cough of an old engine roars to life. That’s my cue. You exit the house- a safe space- and brace yourself to be exposed to hundreds of strangers in just a few minutes.

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Just as Bella had been, you were the talk of the town. The newest hot gossip in the small community of Forks. It was surprising when one twin returned, but when the second twin came two years after the first? What was the reasoning behind that? People could sense some family drama nonetheless. As Bella pulled into the parking lot, you could see that her whole demeanor changed. As if she was looking forward to something. Bella had always been the brains in your sistership, but she still disliked school as much as you did. After she pulled into a parking spot, she cut the engine quickly. As she reached for the door handle, you placed a hand on the center console.

“Wait.” You say, causing her to glance over her shoulder at you. She shuts her door, settling back into her seat.

“We’re gonna be late.” She sighs.

“Just a minute, I swear.” You promise. She looks at you expectantly. “I know we’re not on the best terms right now, but I just need to know before going in there if you want to- I don’t know how to phrase this. Are we going to hang out and stuff during lunch.. And stuff?”

She makes a face. “Sorry, I didn’t phrase that right. I just mean, am I gonna sit by you at lunch? I totally get it if you don’t want to, I know you have Edward and other friends and stuff and- you know what? Forget I said anything."

“Relax, I’m not gonna throw you to the wolves.” She says, a mischievous glint in her eyes as if you were missing out on an inside joke.

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” You smile. She hops out of the truck, and you mirror her movements. She blushes as you both walk over to a tall, pale brunette. He smiles at Bella, and she bounds energetically over to him. He engulfs her in a hug and she tips her head up as they meet each other for a kiss. God, get a room. Something like a chuckle from Edward forces them apart, and Bella asks him something that you can’t make out. You walk over to them and raise an eyebrow.

“So you’re Dr. Cullen’s son?” You ask, but it comes out as more of a statement. He glances at Bella, then gives you a half crooked smirk.

“That would be me.” He answers. His pale skin compliments his eyes, a deep caramel whiskey color. His teeth are a bright white. Everything about this guy- or more likely, Greek God- made you shrink into your own skin, feeling inferior and self conscious. It was as if he was carved from marble, as if someone had spent hours and days and months chipping away at him until he reached perfection. You held out a hand for him to shake, but as he reached out to respond, Bella placed her hand on his.

“Um, remember about that cold you just got over? You’re probably still contagious.” She says softly, her eyes bearing into his, as if there was some sort of laser beam connecting their gaze. His mouth turns to a thin line for a split second, but then pulls back into a smile, and you'dve probably missed it if you weren’t already studying his face.

“Thank you for reminding me, how could I forget?” He says, false humor in his voice. A loud bell rings, interrupting the awkward conversation. Thank God. Bella raises her eyebrows and stares at her feet.

“Well, um, can someone point me in the direction of the office?” You ask. Edward walks with you and Bella, them lost in their own conversation as you debated whether or not you really needed to complete high school.

After receiving your schedule and getting directions to your first period class, you push open a door that says Ms. Garcia. First was English, and that was your best subject, so you were grateful you had it first thing in the morning to start your day right. As you entered the room, your stomach did flip flops. Suddenly your hair that was resting on your shoulders weighed one hundred tons and your feet felt like they were cured in blocks of concrete. Ms. Garcia’s voice stopped as soon as you entered, and it seemed that all eyes were on you.

“Hi, you must be Y/n.” An older woman with dark hair and caramel skin held out a ring-clad hand. You shook it, and the warmth of her skin only made you sweat more. Your heartbeat raced, and you could feel your shirt sticking to your lower back. Her voice sounded a million years away as she told you to take a seat next to a girl with dark hair. As you sat, she resumed teaching and you took the opportunity to scan the classroom. Everyone looked normal, just a bit paler than your peers in Phoenix. One boy stood out in particular, a mop of blond hair and pale, almost translucent, almost reflective skin, catching your eyes. He turned his head in that moment, returning your eye contact. A chill ran through you, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and your heart sped up. It was almost as if something deep down inside of you clicked, like a hole that you didn’t even know was there was stitched up by a golden thread. An overwhelming sense of tranquility washed over you and your heart slowed, you started breathing again, not that you ever noticed you stopped, and it felt like tiny little electric shocks traveled through your veins from your cheeks to the tips of your toes. Everything felt right. Everything was going to be okay.

#edward cullen #edwardcullen #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasperhale #Bella Swan #bellaswan #charlie swan #charlieswan #chapter 3 #twilight #twilight x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

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kpurereactions · 5 years ago

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Love Shot

CHAPTER 1

A/N: Hello lovelies, Ive been working on this piece for quite a while now and im finally ready to post it. This was inspired by one of my favorite fics of all time, Good Girl, but given my own little twist. I hope you all love Love Shot as much as I do.

Pairing: Exo x Reader

Rating: Drama, Angst, Smut, Fluff

WARNINGS: Language, Eventual Violence, Lots of Smut Later on

Chapter | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

I let a smile touch my lips before taking a deep breath in, nodding once at the crisp evening air before turning to lock the door of my new combined studio and apartment. It was the first day where fall really felt like fall. The scent of rain lingered under the dense clouds and the sun was already halfway gone. I had moved back to Seoul only three months ago after being gone for only a little under a year. I had originally came to Seoul to get my masters in painting and painting theory, though I quickly gained enough local fame and connections that no one could quite understand why I left. So I came back.

I stood on the side of the road, my arm outstretched as I wait for a cab. My closest friend from school in the city was opening his gallery tonight and from the posts on my snapchat I could tell a lot of old classmates were already there. Song Mino was the first friend I made when I first moved here. He was talented and refused to fit into the art box the professor tried to force all his students into, as if art should be something someone else tells you to do. It should be your own thing. We had that in common. My style is simplistic. Aesthetic. Easy to look at, but the more you look the more you see behind the top layer. We both strived to challenge the viewer, and because of that we grew really close in our attempt to stick it to the man.

The first show is always the biggest event of an artist's career, and knowing I was seconds away from Mino’s brought another smile to my face as excitement seemed to run through my toes. I couldn't believe how hard he had been working, despite him refusing to let me see anything he had made to showcase.

The gallery itself was breathtaking, I couldn't help but note the obviously more ‘manly’ stain he had chosen for the wooden columns that broke the continuous glass of the front of the gallery. I was the one who helped him make his mind up. I took it in as it was its own work of art before I even walked up the short staircase to the front doors. The tall white walls were similar to my own space, but his had matching wooden floors and walls that were scattered around the room that broke your vision from seeing everything at once. I gave myself another smile as I noticed familiar faces of old classmates and Professors.

It didn't surprise me when I first walked in that I was being asked about the past year and how I’ve been. I was hard to miss, not just because I stood taller than a majority of the women in the room. The constant questioning reminded me why I chose to fail at reaching out when I got back. I made a point to keep trying to catch eye contact with Mino, who only seemed to mask the chuckle from escaping his lips, choosing to leave me to struggle with the boring repetition of the conversations I was having. I finally found the opportunity to excuse myself and all but power walk over to Mino, pretending not to see anyone else I recognized.

“American style!” He said excitedly, pulling me into a hug.

“Don't you ever leave me to the wolves like that again” I whispered in his ear before pulling back. “Mino this is awesome, I’ve only seen a few pieces but im so proud of you!” I said covering up my mild threat before hugging him tightly again. He chuckled with bright eyes before giving my arms a squeeze. His eyes widened as he remembered the man standing next to him.

“Y/n, this is Junmyeon. He is a curator who graduated a few years before us. I've been telling him about your work.” He said as my attention moved to the slick haired man.

“You were talking about me at your own opening?” I said reaching for his hand to shake it.

“I actually asked specifically about you.” Junmyeon said with a soft smile that slowly grew.

“Oh, wow.” I tried to get out past the sound of my heart fluttering at his radiant smile. “Its very nice to meet you then.”

I was informed that Junmyeon was planning on stopping by my studio in the next few days, which brought on a new wave a nerves I've never experienced before. It wasn't until Mino placed his hand on my back to excuse the two of us could I finally breathe.

“Jesus, why is he so intimidating?” I said looking back over my shoulder as he dipped his chin to take a sip of his drink.

“If you think he’s intimidating your crazy” Mino said, leading me over to the first piece he wanted to show me.

“Did he asked to buy any of your work?” I asked before he could change the topic.

“All of it.” Mino said with a big smile.

“All of it?!”

“Yes. He’ll probably buy a lot of your stuff too. It’s more his style anyways.”

“Oh my god.” I said shaking my head.

I let Mino take control of the conversation as he began to explain the clay molded figure in front of us. I spent the rest of my time there following Mino around, while sipping on my wine and listening to him talk. Even though, as much as I was paying attention, it was hard to get your mind off of Junmyeon.

“Promise me you wont sell this one. I know you promised everything but see if this one could be an exception. I want to buy it.” I said pointing at a tall, organic figure of a woman. The memory of when Mino had made it flooded back as it was my first time to ever pose for another artist.

“Ill ask.” he said smiling before taking my hand and leading me to the next piece.

I tried to stay as late as I could. Mino was off somewhere talking art leaving me once again to be interrogated by my former classmates who all seemed to be very smug about the fact that I had yet to have an opening. It didn't matter what valid excuse I would give, they only cared that it hasn't happened yet. Thankfully I must have looked as uncomfortable as I felt since a hand wrapped around my arm to pull me back. I was just about to thank Mino for coming back and saving me when I turned to face Junmyeon.

“You didn't look too excited about that.” He said looking back over to the three girls who were all staring with confused and almost jealous looks in their eyes.

“Good to know it was obvious.” I said taking a sip of wine. Just as I was about to say something else Mino walked up.

“I think I'm going to head out. I have a pick up early in the morning.” I said, trying not to make it sound like I was at my ropes end with the girls who had added whispering to their staring. I smiled and quickly kissed Mino’s cheek softly before turning to Junmyeon and shaking his hand again, trying to do so without having to hear a protest from Mino.

The air outside sobered me up a little, and because of how nice it was outside I couldn't help but smile and start to walk down the sidewalk. Mino’s studio wasn't that far from mine, just a few blocks down and a horseshoe turn away, so I placed my hands in my coat pocket and began to walk. I let my eyes wander from the fashion that was passing me to the way the lights reflected off the puddles left from the rain that morning. Just as I was really starting to enjoy my walk the sky opened again, soft raindrops falling from the sky.

I sighed, of course this would happen. Clocking where I was I dipped into an alley, deciding the fastest way to get out of the rain in my heels would be to cut through the alleyways. Usually this idea was fine. I would maybe run into one or two strangers, but they were usually restaurant owners who were taking the trash out or sweeping their areas so the sound of voices deeper in the alley didn't really bother me.

“Kai come on! Oh my god no.” I heard a man laugh deeper into the darkness of the alley. But as I got closer to my studios back door I realized the figure I could hardly make out at first were men. Multiple men. Usually this wouldn't bother me but as I got closer the feeling of fear in the pit of my stomach started to deepen and deepen.

I took a deep breath when I started to pass them, my heart beating a million miles a minute while trying to keep a poker face to seem unphased so they wouldn't pay me any mind. Until they did.

“Hey wait!” I heard one of them call. I quicken my step slightly. Not to show I was scared, but just incase. “Wait, where are you going? I’ll walk you home.”

I looked up to see a half lit face walking backwards in front of me. I squinted slightly to try to get my eyes to adjust to what was under the ball cap he wore, but there was no use.

‘Shit’ I thought. I was staring too long. I looked away and quickened my step again.

“Oh come on! At least tell me your name!” He shouted after he stopped, his voice now behind me.

I was able to breathe again once my key was in my door, officially sure he stopped following me. But still the shape of the man's mouth was enough to stay in my brain as I flicked the lights to my gallery on and made my way upstairs to my bed.

___

“Mino I swear they were so scary.” I said pushing my denim painting shirt up past my elbows before wrapping my hands around the coffee cup that sat in front of me.

“I just don't understand why you didnt call a cab when you left.” He said sitting back in his chair, obviously taking it out on himself for not seeing me off safely.

“I just wanted to walk. I didn't plan on going through the alley.” I grumbled. I hated when Mino tried to school me. He was only a few months older than I was, and although I knew here it meant something different, he also knew that where I’m from it didn't.

“Do you at least remember what they looked like?” He asked, noticing my mood change.

“Um.. kind of. There were like five or six of them, but I only got a good look at one of them. He was a little taller than you, pillow lips… he was wearing a hat so I really didn't get a good look at his eyes. But he had to have been an athlete of some sort.” I said, my words getting quieter as I realized I would have had nothing to go off of if something bad had happened.

The coffee date ended with Mino once again scolding me, which I knew I deserved, but there was only so much I could take without pouting all the way home. I couldn't help thinking about the man in the hat. Why he was there in the alley with his friends. Why did he follow me, but then give up so easily? It's not like his friends were calling him back. If he was going to bother me in the first place, why give up? The more I thought about what had happened the more I worked myself up. They probably saw me unlock my door. What if they showed up in my studio? What if they came back with more people?

I half thought about texting Mino, but knew there was no point. He would be more worried about it than I was and he had better things to do then baby sit me in my own home. So instead, the moment I got inside I turned my windows down, making sure no one could see inside my studio incase they were passing to see if I was there. It was weird, though, this new set fear was enough to put me into overdrive. My inspiration hit me in my face and I couldn't pull a fresh canvas out fast enough to get the blurred images of last night down.

———

Music played loudly as I was lost in my own world. A galaxy of light and dark colors swirled and blended into one another across my canvas creating the confusing, but exciting pattern that seemed to get better with every stroke.

I was pulled out of my own head when the sound of someone's voice yelling over the music made me look up. I smiled to see Junmyeon and two other men trailing him into the room.

“Oh! One second please!” I said trying to press pause with the clean part of my palm. “Sorry, I didn't realize how loud that had gotten.” I said wiping my hand on my shirt before shaking Junmyeons hand.

“Its fine, good to see your working so hard because I brought with me two potential buyers.” He said gesturing to the two men on his left. “This is Byun Baekhyun and Kim Jongin.” He said.

I smiled shaking Baekhyun's hand, but the moment I met Jongin's eyes I felt my body stiffened slightly. He was familiar. Almost to familiar. I forced the feeling to be shaken off though, there was no reason why he would have possibly been brought into my studio if he had been hiding out in the alleyway behind the building the night before. Or at least I had hoped. But there was something about the way he smiled at me that made me feel like he knew it too. That he had seen me the night prior too.

I tried hard not to think about it. If Junmyeon was there, I was safe and if he was the man he probably wouldn't try to do anything with two other people there to witness. I turned my attention back to Junmyeon who asked if he could look through my paintings.

“Oh of course. And the racks on this back wall have more in it. I rotate them so the ones that are up are only there because they have a similar theme.” I said before trying to smile as normal as possible and turning back to my easel.

My drive was gone. I was too busy focusing on Jongin, who stood there supporting his chin in his hand as he listens to Junmyeon explain why he liked a certain piece. I took this opportunity to text Mino. Now if any would be a good time to alert him.

Mino, I think the guy from last night in the hat is in my studio with Junmyeon. I don't know what to do.

“Y/n, were looking to fill a room. Do you have any others with these same earthy tones?” Junmyeon said, pulling my attention away from my phone.

“Oh, yes. There over here.” I said smiling, slipping my phone into my back pocket before leading the men over to the opposite wall. I walked them through my color schemes, explaining to them the way I had everything organized just incase they changed their mind on a color or style they wanted. I was surprised Junmyeon and Baekhyun were able to distract me from the thoughts swirling in my head for the rest of the time they were there, but it helped that Jongin stayed behind us, obviously not trying to chime in.

“Y/n, thank you once again for taking us in on such short notice. We will take the one on the wall and the two that have been stored if they are not already spoken for.”

“Of course, Ill wrap them for you so they’re ready to be taken.” I said turning to make a mental note as to which ones it was.

“Thank you again. We will be in touch.” He said, bowing his head slightly before taking my hand in a soft, yet firm hand shake.

“Thank you.” Baekhyun said sweetly as he took my hand next.

“Good to see you again. I hope to see you in the future as well” Jongin said with a small wink before taking my hand and giving it a firm shake.

The moment his hand touched mine my heart dropped. There couldn't be a way that was really him. The moment the door closed I reached for my phone again only to see Mino hadn't responded. It didn't stop me from quickly typing out another message, though.

It was him. It had to be him. Why else would he tell me it was good to see me again before winking if it wasn't him?

I looked up to see their backs bending one by one to get into the large black vehicle they came in, and once I was sure the door to the vehicle was closed and they weren't looking I quickly walked forward and locked the door again before backing up to my easel where I desperately tried to finish my work before deciding to just give up.

I couldn't focus. Not while finishing, not while making myself dinner, and not while I was laying in bed trying to fall asleep. I rolled to my side and reached for my phone. 3:00am. I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of my bed, taking my blanket with me and wrapping it tightly around my shoulders. I made your way up to the railing of my room slowly which allowed me look down onto my gallery. I wrapped the blanket closer over my shoulders before letting my elbows rest on the railing so I was more comfortably looking out the window. I smiled to myself finally feeling calm again. I loved how quiet the streets were at night. How all the colors of the lights around seemed to mix together on the rained on asphalt that laid below them.

It felt calm. But as my eyes were scanning I couldn't help but see two figures standing across the street. I squinted my eyes to try to catch a reflection of who the people were only to realize it was Jongin and Junmyeon. I stared at the two in shock as they talked across the road. They seemed to be laughing. I tried to calm myself down, telling myself they were probably just out getting drinks and just so happened to be standing across the street from my apartment. But then I remembered what the time was. I couldn't stop myself from panicking, and just as I was about to turn to hide myself, my eyes met with Jongin’s.

I didn't know it was possible for my heart to drop even further into my stomach as he gave me a devilish grin and wink. I scrambled back to my bedside table where I quickly reached for the remote that controls my space, knocking it off the table before I was able to press the button that made my windows go solid.

Chapter 2

#exo #exo fic #exo mafia #exo smut #exo reactions #exo drabbles #Junmyeon #Suho #Minseok #Xuimin #Baekhyun #Lay #Yixing #Jongdae #Chen #Jongin #Kai #Sehun #Chanyeol #Kyungsoo #DO

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bobbys-naughty-corner · 4 years ago

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Garou x reader

Hoevember #2 (this is trash. And im not proud of it)

You idly watch him in the shadows. Each time he beat the shit out of a hero, every time he walked aimlessly around looking for heros to just destroy, you were always watching. Right now you were watching him sit with a kid who was reading an hero encyclopedia. “Hey who’s that?” The kid asked Garou. Garou looked down from the sky to where the kid pointed to. You stood behind a tree not really trying to hide. I mean why would you, he knew you were watching him he actually caught you a couple of times. “Oh her. Some crazy chick.” He leant his head back to stare at the clouds. “Like a crazy ex girlfriend?” The boy asked and Garou nearly chocked on his breath. “Hell no!” Garou did admire your body but when he would get close to you, you would run away. You didn’t have enough courage to speak to him properly but you would buy him little bandages and food and leave it for him in some spots. He liked that you followed him, a hot girl flowing him around too shy to even approach him. You were teaching him. Today though, you had worked up enough nerve to approach him. You had made him food that morning and now that it was sunset it was already cold but you were just waiting for the perfect opportunity. But that kid was there. He’s just a kid YN, you can just punch him and he’ll go running away. No no you can’t hit kids! Just ignore the boy. You took the first step from behind the tree and nearly trembled when Garou stared at you. Your legs wobbled as you took small slow steps towards him. Garou got up though and started to walk away leaving the boy alone. You froze as you watched him leave the park. The boy ran up to you and started interrogating you. “What’s your business with him?” “Who are you?!” You stammered on one word as he kept asking you questions. Garou now lost from your view 😔. You pouted and decided to walk away. You hung your head as you walked away, sad that the first time you were not afraid to talk to him he walked away. You walked down the block, eyes glued to the ground and feet dragging against the concrete. Your wrist was yanked into an alleyway, nearly tripping over your own feet as you were pulled aggressively. Your mouth covered by a big palm and body pressed against the dirty brick wall. “What do you have in there?” The stranger asked you about the bag you carried food in. His hand removed itself from your lips allowing you to speak. “F-f-food” you stuttered out of fear. “Oh, for who?” His voice was right at your ears the breath from his mouth hit the bottom of your ear. “M-my b-boy f-friend.” You lied. “What his name?” The man asked again, pressing his body against yours. You bit your lip, fearful of lying about dating Garou to a random stranger. “G- Garou.” You whimpered out. “You don’t say?” The man let go of you and grabbed the bag. You turned and your eyes were filled with hearts 😍. Garou was digging through the bag, he pulled out a bento and a fork you left for him. He opened the food and his eyes widened. “This looks amazing.” He closed it back up and rubbed your head. Your eyes unable to leave him, taking in the best sight you’ve ever seen. His smile, he was smiling at you. Garou then grabbed your wrist and dragged you out of the alleyway. Pulling you along the street taking to you to an unknown destination. You couldn’t faght back but the touch of his warm hands was too good. He was so close and you didn’t want him to get any farther from you. His hand slid down to yours and entangled his fingers in yours. Your heart wanted to soar through the sky. Hand in hand down the block. 🥰 it was like one of your dreams. One of your sfw dreams 😏. You imagined baby angels around you singing and playing little angel instruments. You jogged closer to him and hugged his arm. Resting your head on his shoulder. He didn’t even push you off, no flinching or complaints. You tried to hide the big ugly grin that was creeping onto your face. As you both continued walking you noticed the buildings began to look too familiar. Once you rounded the corner you saw your apartment complex and you nearly stopped walking.

When entering the building your body began to sweat. You didn’t want him to leave just yet. And what about seeing him again? Everything was happening too fast, you wanted time to slow down. Like real slow. When he stopped at the elevator you hugged him tighter. As the elevator descended down so did your heart. You prayed in your head for just something to happen to make him stay. When the elevator dinged and opened you were pulled out of your thoughts as people exited the small box. You pouted as you both entered and just stood quietly. He pressed the button to your floor and you briefly wondered how he knew what building and floor you lived on. Maybe you can pretend that you left your keys in the house and locked yourself out. He wouldn’t believe that. His arm removed itself from your grasped which made you whine a little like a baby but you stopped when he only changed positions. Putting his arm over your shoulders and pulling you closer to his body. Your heart rate sped up and you moved closer. Your nose took in every whiff of him 😤🤤. The elevator stopped and opened allowing you both to exit. Before you can walk down the hall to your door you stopped him. He looked down at you confused. “I- I don’t want to go home just yet.” You said quietly. He put the food down and pushed back your curly hair to get a good look at you. You buried your face in his chest and held into him. You’ve waited to long to touch and talk to him. It’s only been about 15 minutes since the park. It wasn’t enough for you. “I’ll go in with you.” He said rubbing your back. Instant smile across your face 😀. Like a phsyco trying to look nice. You pulled him to your door and quickly unlocked your door and once again pulling him. It was a nice single bedroom apartment. Your parents got it for you when they went overseas to London. You’ve been on your own since sophomore year of high school. Now a senior, you we’re accustomed to living alone. You never had guest over so you wanted to impress Garou, a lot. You took the food and transferred it to a pan and let it heat up in the oven. You grabbed your nice plates, cups and silverware. You poured him sparking water and brought it to him. “So what’s with the stalking?” He asked suddenly. You blushed and almost didn’t answer. “You were never approachable until you were with that kid. I was just waiting on a opportunity to say hi but heros would always harass you.” You gritted your teeth at the word heros. You put the water away and waited for his food to cook. Garou got up from his seat at the table and walked over to you. “So my girlfriend was afraid to approach me because of heros? You scared of them?” He gently pushed you against the counter. You blushed more at the word girlfriend. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to use that word before I just panicked.” You blurted out. “What word? Boyfriend? You don’t like me?” He wrapped his arms around your waist not wasting �� anytime getting real physical. “Of course I do! I just didn’t know it was you I was talking to. I think your food is ready.” You went to turn off the oven but he stopped you. He tugged you back to the counter and sat you on top of it. “How much do you like me?” He asked getting really close, setting himself between your thighs. “Enough to let you in my house.” You scratched your hair. “Yeah, you were really eager to let me in.” His hands slide up your thighs and you flinched under his hands. “I don’t like being home alone.” You told him trying to find something besides his face to look at. He was extremely close, his nose just barely touched yours and his hands were at your waist. “Hmm, so you like my company?” He said. “I like your presence yes. This is the first time being around you but I can also say I like your company.” You placed your hand on his chest to push him back some but feeling his muscles under his shirt surely distracted your thoughts. “So what do I have to do to get my girlfriend naked in the bed for me?” He said lifting your chin to stop your gaze at his body and to his eyes.

“Huh?” You we’re too busy filling your mind with nasty thoughts you didn’t hear a word he said. “I said, how intimate can we get? You already established that we’re together and I don’t take that lightly, there’s very few people I keep around me and you added yourself to that group of people. And seeing how you’ve been trailing behind me for a couple of months I’ll take that as the beginning of our relationship.” “A kiss!” I interrupted him. “I want a kiss, please.” He laughed a little before cupping my cheeks and stroking it with his thumb. For such a violent man he was so gentle. “Your shyness seems to come after your bluntness.” I was about to speak but he pulled me in for a kiss. No tongue, no caresses just our lips touching. A regular first kiss, well as regular as it could get. You weren’t expecting him to be a lustful beast, he was still an 18 year old boy and your were the same age. But it was really nice, his lips weren’t chapped or busted and he tasted like gum. Kids bubblegum, from the park. The kiss only lasted seconds, he pulled his head away and smiled. But it wasn’t enough for you. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, “another”. He didn’t give it a second thought. His lips were back on yours. The kiss more heated, lips moving against each other as his tongue fought with yours. He let you be the first to play in his mouth before he would make your lips sloppy from his saliva. Your left hand trailed down his arm until you reached his wrist and brought it under your skirt. When his fingers rubbed the location of your clit you jumped a little. It was invited but unexpected at the same time. Like inviting a friend over for lunch and they show up in a corn costume. His fingers put more pressure on your core as he felt you getting wet from the kiss. Your uniform skirt hiding his hand making every move he made under there a mystery until you felt it. He removed his lips and dragged his lips down to your neck. “Bedroom?” He asked you for directions. “End of hall.” He quickly picked you off the counter and carried you to the end of the hall. Your back hit the bed and he was so quick to get his shirt off. You followed suit and began to unbutton your uniform. Taking your time and being very careful not to pop any button since you had limited supply of school shirts. When you had the shirt off he gazed down at your body. Breast sitting pretty in your lavender bra. Garou lifted your legs and spread them, kneeling at the edge of the bed putting your cunt in his field of vision. “You should see how wet you are. But I’m sure you feel it. Do you feel embarrassed? It being your first time being intimate with someone and you’re so easily letting me go to town on you.” You gasped when he pulled the fabric down your legs. “How would you know that?” You covered your face. “I could’ve had plenty of people before you.” It was true, you were a very attractive, smart and easy going girl. “You’re not the only one whose been stalking sweetheart. And you’re not the first virgin to like bad boys. But do indulge me on one of your previous encounters. I would like to hear who about who was here before me.” He sounded a bit possessive, you shook your head. “Why not?” He spread your folds and watched the sheets darker under you. “I haven’t done anything like this with anyone.” You weren’t embarrassed at that since you didn’t see anyone as a romantic interest until you saw him. “Was you saving yourself for me?” He teased, prodding a finger at your hole making you squirm in discomfort. “I was saving myself for a hero, I got distracted by you.” You were lying but Garou didn’t like the sound of that. He stuffed his finger in you and added another when he didn’t get the reaction he wanted. You Squeaked from the new intruders. “Not cute.” He said. You hissed when he stretched his fingers apart. Your hands grasped his wrist. He got up still making “animal puppets” in your vagina. Unaware of his sweatpants discarded amongst the heap of clothes that piled up. U jumped, feeling it by his fingers.

You felt his penis work it’s way inside while his fingers stretched you open for him. You bit your bottom lip and tried to bare with the pain. “Ouch.” You say as he removes his fingers and slides his penis the rest of the way in. “Who was it going to be?” He shifted his weight over you, putting both hands by your head. He watched your face and made sure to make you as comfortable as possible. You wiggled your hips a little trying to get yourself together but moaned from his thrust. He began to move after he saw you move and kept a slow and steady pace. “Who was it?” He asked you again, a little aggravated that he had to repeat himself and the thought of you liking a hero didn’t sit right with him. “Stinger,” you moaned out. His hips stopped moving when the name settled in his ears. “You liked that hero?” He said disgusted. As if he had his mind on someone else. “Maybe. But that was before I saw you.” Your arms put themselves around his neck as if they belonged there. “So I was the second choice?” He muttered. He scooped your legs over his shoulders and removed your hands, pressing them against the sheets. He said something else under his breath but you couldn’t hear him. He was just talking to himself out loud, while his dick just sat in you. A perfectly normal situation. His grip on your arm got stronger and it almost started to hurt. You could feel the strangling of your veins, your nerves picking up an odd pounding as the blood couldn’t circulate properly. “Garou.” You called to him softly. Your forearm raised and tapped his elbow. He wasn’t bothered by your voice or you touch. His hips rose and fell back down ripping a strangled groan from you. It was so sudden. His dick pounding away at your cunt. Both areas heating up rather fast. Sweat making the claps of hips sound wet while the sliding in and out of his girthy length made the most nastiest of sounds. Almost like playing with slime. It made your eyes roll back, your spine arch up and toes curl. Your nails scratched his sides and he moved, he let out little grunts from the pain but he didn’t stop or falter his penetration. He did however move up, grinding against you as his body held you down. He released your arms and pressed his chest against yours. Taking smaller, faster and harder thrust. It nearly gave you an immediate orgasm but it was missing something. Like a topping on a sundae. You moaned in his ear and he just loved to hear it. It was like music to his ears, a serenade of high pitch sounds emanating from your vocal cords. Your body begged for him to touch you with his hands, wanting more physical contact than he was giving. You moved your hand between your bodies, trying to sneakily touch your clit for extra help. Garou felt your hands wiggling down against him and quickly got the message. His hand beat you there and rubbed slowly up and down your clit. You shuddered and sank further under him. He basically had your whole body in his hand and was giving it gently loving strokes with the tip of his finger. Your was pulsed around him, clenching and unclenching his cock. “Feels good huh? Tell me what’s going through your mind right now.” You were so close to an orgasm you couldn’t even speak. But you did put some words together between the gumble of incoherent crap that was flowing out your mouth. “....good...stinger...better...” what you really said was ‘you feel so good~ I never liked Stinger (😡). You were always better.’ But of course it came out as if you were saying stinger was better. Garou sat up and pulled out. He flipped you onto your stomach and really let you have it. His hands struck your ass. You bit your lip hard, it was so pleasurable. His hands came down with a open palm. And you waited for it. Hands gripping the sheets and ass raised asking for more. After a couple of slaps he had you sitting on his lap, legs spread, back touching his chest with his fingers back to rubbing you. You bent your head over his shoulder letting out every sound that was made from you freely into his ear. His dick tapping your back as it throbbed behind your ass.

“Garou, just fuck me please. I’ve been waiting for a long time. I never like stinger, I always liked you. Please take me, any way you want.” You said reaching behind yourself to stroke him. He kissed the side of your neck. His palm rubbed your clit as his fingers fucked your hole. Your legs shut on his hand as you came on his fingers. Your held his wrist as your body spasmed and your back arched the opposite way making your body curl up. Garou got on his knees and helped you onto your back. Your hand came up to his hair and rustled it out of shape. His dick went inside you no problem. The slick between you made nasty sounds and made you feel sticky. “Oh Garou, you feel so good. Please more.” You cried. “Oh look whose the little chatter box all of a sudden.” His hips met yours with harsh, rough thrusts. You smiled to yourself but it was clear as day on your face. “You like that baby? It’s nice to know you’re a masochist.” He sat up and picked up your hips. I hands lifted and pulled your hips to meet his with each thrust. It drove you crazy, you couldn’t speak. He sped up and you felt the biggest urge to pee. “You’re getting really wet.” Your thighs jiggled as they shook, “oh FUCK!” He stopped suddenly and pulled out. Your lucky gushed your orgasm on him as he came over your woman hood. Panting heavily from your previous orgasm. “I like you a lot Garou. You’re the coolest villain I know of. I don’t care if you don’t want a relationship. I just want to be around you, I’ll be here for any of your needs.” You said out of breath. Garou kissed you, “you’re mine.” He growled out. You hugged him and gleefully giggled, excited at your new relationship.

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zenosanalytic · 5 years ago

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People What Aint From Round Here Is The Problem...

So I just watched Once Upon a Time... In Hollywood and I have THOUGHTS:

Ive read a few reviews&ruminations on this film at this point and I can’t believe that none of them got(or at least, mentioned explicitly) the primary thesis of this movie, spcl given that Tarentino flatly states it out the mouth of his primary protagonist within, like, the first 15-20mins of the film: “...most important thing in this town is when you’re making money you buy a house in town. You don’t rent... Hollywood real estate means you live here. You’re not just visiting, not just passing through. You fuckin live here.” i.e., the most important thing in Hollywood, to Hollywood, is the people FROM Hollywood; Everyone else is just a filthy, trouble-making tourist or profiteer who is “Passing Through” and “Doesnt Get It” and “Is Fucking It Up”(It being the film industry), and probably “Secretly Hates Movies”. There are places and aspects of this movie that are basically a Nativist Angeleno rant, written by a life-long Angeleno film-nerd-turned-film-maker, against Hollywood’s critics(and his critics which he just totally conflates with the former), and probably non-Angelenos(and non-Californians?) in general.

There are two ways to read this thesis: Straight and Subverted/Satirized.

The evidence for reading it straight is pretty plentiful. Lots of reviews have puzzled at where the line connecting the constant hippie-bashing, the weird focus on knocking Polanski’s Polishness & preference for shooting in London, and the inexplicable pot-shot at Bruce Lee is, and I think this is it. “The Hippies” are repeatedly presented as a corrupting force: digging through trash, living in squalourous filth at the Spahn Ranch dragging members of “Old Hollywood” like its owner into it with them, selling drugs, and using sex to “control” men. And attached to this is presenting “The Hippies” as foreign; not only from another place, but refusing to assimilate with the LA way of life and hostile to it. The Manson family are the only explicitly identified “Hippies” in the film(other than, possibly, the one who sells Cliff an acid cig). The only “positive” portrayals of Bruce Lee in the film are silent ones of him teaching anglos kung fu, which has some fairly obvs and well-understood Implications.

But there’s also good evidence for reading it as subverted and satirized. Both Tate and Dalton are NOT from California, let alone LA, and Booth’s origins are left unclear. Dalton’s the only one of them explicitly id’d as being from elsewhere(Missouri), but Tate’s easy to google and she was a military kid who grew up all over the place. When Dalton returns from Italy, that sequence and his look in it are VERY reminiscent of the scenes introducing Polanski at the beginning of the film. The side-characters around Tate, perennially shown in a positive light, are also non-Angelenos. Doing Spaghetti Westerns revitalizes Dalton’s career, despite his disdain for Italian cinema. Tate and her crew, while not explicitly ID’d as “Hippies” and often shown in Mod and other fashion styles, are also presented in “Hippie” fashion, shown listening to “Hippie” music, smoking the “Hippie” Reefer(Im sorry, but Comedy Demanded this phrasing and I am Devout u_u), and implied to be living a polyamorous “Hippie” life.

It really is difficult for me to say which predominates. On the one entirely metaphorical hand, the ways in which Dalton’s Angeleno chauvinism are subverted and mocked are fairly obvs, but on the other emh, the film is FILLED with LITERALLY GLOWING nostalgia for this pre-Hippy, pre-Lefty, pre-70s, Conservative and Republican California&Los Angeles. Dalton’s focus on property-ownership&the film industry in the opening thesis could easily be seen as resolving these subversive contradictions to allow for a straight read(ie: Tate, Booth, and Dalton are “Hollywood People” who’ve both bought real-estate in LA, and who’ve grown up in film or film-adjacent fields and choose to center their adult lives in the film industry). So much, in fact, that I kinda started to wonder abt QT’s politics while watching it. And, if it WAS satirical, then what’s the point of the knock to Bruce Lee and focusing criticisms of Polanski on his Polishness and shooting in London? Is that just meant to characterize Dalton and Booth as nativists and racists?

It really cannot be said enough that there are REALLY MORE APPROPRIATE CRITICISMS to make of Polanski than 1)begin Polish, 2)possessing boyish effeminacy, and 3)preferring to shoot movies in London instead of LA. Which are this movie’s only problems with him(though it also takes the time to show him bitchily smoking a cigarette in an evening gown while being rude to a dog). Obvsl I dont object to villainizing an ACTUAL REAL LIFE VILLAIN like this shitstain, but I DO object to being asked(albeit gently) to participate in this film’s understated nationalist bigotry.

It’s possible that Cliff’s turning Pussycat down during the drive to the ranch was intended to be this but I highly doubt it. And if it was it’d be misrepresenting Polanski’s misdeeds enormously, considering that Pussycat, the too-young girl, is the sexual instigator in this film. Polanski liked to manipulate, drug, and rape underaged girls(he pulled the same shit with models in Europe before getting busted for it in LA, btw, then continued doing it after fleeing back to Europe); really not the same situation.

There’s another irony in that, while the film goes out of its way to call Polanski “boyish” and imply that makes him feminine and that this is Bad, there’s also a subtle under-current that... Tarentino sees himself in his youth the same way? He’s certainly never been short like Polanski and Jay Sebring are/were, QT’s 6 1, but the actors he cast to play them and the description made of the pair in-film are more than a bit reminiscent of how Tarentino looked&was discussed in the press back in the 90s when he was starting out. AAAaaand the film explicitly calls that Tate’s “Type”; leaving me with the question: would Tarentino be able to stop himself from implying a dead starlet would have been attracted to him? I leave the answer to your imaginations, Dear Readers u_u

Having said all that it IS a really good film, which I liked, I dont think it’d be very hard to set aside this political stuff while watching, the driving sequences are especially emotive&exhilarating, and there’s some seriously great acting in it. IDK if I’d say I liked it more than the recent Emma movie, tho.

I feel like each of the trio, Tate, Dalton, and Booth, were meant to symbolically Embody LA/Hollywood/California? Like Pitt especially seemed to be channeling movie characters and CJ from GTA: San Andreas throughout his performance, while I couldnt help but think of Ronald Reagan watching DiCaprio(spcl given the character’s likely politics). So there’s this sense in which the film is a fantasy of “Old Hollywood”, embodied by these three, Vanquishing its “Enemies”, represented by The Hippies(moralizing, pretentious, gross leftist) and potentially Polanski&Lee(foreign film ppl who refuse to integrate into the LA scene). Again, given the political history of Cali after this era, this embodiment raises some questions for me abt the film and QT’s politics(particularly in re: misogyny and feminism).

Also DiCaprio is totally going to get pitched a Reagan biopic off of this role and I sincerely hope he has the good sense to turn that shit the fuck down.

Circling back to the ranting at his critics, this movie was definitely and consciously a response to them. Like: up until the last 5-15 minutes of the film, and aside from a handful of too-lingering too fetishistic too on-the-nose creep shots of the female cast that Tarentino simply could not stop himself from making, OUATiH is precisely the sort of “Serious” film Tarentino’s critics have been saying he should make for decades now(of course he did Jackie Brown, which was that and which he blew Completely out of the park). And then there’s that bloody, gross-out, exploitation-movie ending. I dont actually think it was as bad as many critics were saying it was? For some reason I was thinking there was gonna be a massacre of the ENTIRE Manson family, which would have been totally out of left-field. But it WAS clearly a stinger of a major tone-shift thrown in as a Fuck You to the ppl who’ve called out his violent and exploitative preferences throughout the years. As for me I generally like his movies and think he’s a great filmmaker but he absolutely does go too far sometimes.

Rick Dalton, in an evening-gown, with a mixer full of iced-margarita in one hand, getting all up in the face of the driver of a loud exhaust-spewing jalope in his PRIVATE STREET was TOTALLY Tarentino himself :| By which I mean NOT ONLY that That’s ABSOLUTELY the sort of cameo he would have given himself 30 years ago and if it made any sort of sense at all in the film(which here it wouldnt have, obvsl), BUT ALSO that I feel 94% confident that Tarentino has actually done that at least once in his lifetime :| :|

I think the monologue&interactions T gives Bruce Lee leading up to the fight were probably more insulting to him than the fight itself. Contrary to popular discussion, it isn’t Pitt’s character totally trashing Lee, he gets in one good throw after Lee repeats a successful attack at his request(which I doubt Lee would have ever done from what little I know about him; not being predictable in a fight was his whole Deal), but rather an even duel between them(most of the fight is just the two blocking each others’ attacks). I dont think the film was trying to say “Lee was full of hot-air”, if it wanted to say that it’d have shown him getting trounced instead of showing him knock Booth down then trade him blow for blow, but more “Lee was pretty arrogant and a bit pretentious”.

OK, that’s abt all that I can think of right now: thanks for reading ^v^

#Once Upon a Time... In Hollywood #Quentin Tarentino #Long Post #Cinema #zA Reviews #Movie Reviews #zA Commentary #zA Opinions #analytic posts

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flos-timore · 5 years ago

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Send me a 🥃 + a question for my muse to answer. If they refuse to answer, they have to take a shot // Still Accepting!

Anonymous asked : 🥃 Habit, here's a hypothetical question for you. If your Habitat started to go way downhill, but wasn't a lost cause yet, and you had to resort to more extreme and harmful measures to keep your Habiticians in line, what wouldn't you do?

At once, almost on instinct, Habit feels his breath hitch. Was it possible for air to get caught in somebody’s chest? Well, the question hadn’t even been fully processed before everything decided to lock up, on him.

‘Why was that?’, he wondered briefly. Uselessly. In fact, he wasn’t even sure WHY he’d bothered to let himself pull the wool over his own eyes; if even for only a second. He KNEW exactly why his hands balled up into fists, exactly why dread was solidifying in his stomach.

And yet... he had to glance away, towards the balcony. It was just natural, really, whenever anybody mentioned the Habiticians while he happened to be in his office.

Or. Well.

‘His’ Habiticians, as they had so eloquently put it.

The thought made him laugh. He forced himself to hate that fact.

Keeping the smile held tightly on his face, out of a necessity that he hadn’t even realized WAS a necessity, he took a moment to steel himself before walking over to where his line of sight drew him.

His heels clicked along the floor- an unwelcome change to the encompassing silence from just moments before.

--- “Hmmmmm.... You kno... That”s a “Good” question! Where 2 start with that...”

Content warning: Brief suicidal ideation, blood, and mentions of murder/corpses under the cut.

Heights had never been a problem for him. He never even really considered them enough for them to BECOME any sort of issue. While he could understand where the fear came from, for some people, so long as he knew the ground he stood on was relatively sturdy, he could be as high as the clouds and not have any cares in the world.

... Which is why he was confused when he came to a brief pause as he neared the balcony’s edge. Something about the location had begun to set him off, lately..

Perhaps it was the finality that such a fall would be responsible for. To say that he’d never considered jumping would be a lie, but-

He was quick to shake his head- push those thoughts away. Those were for another life. Not this one.

Habit “easily” (why couldn’t it be easy?) settled himself on the railing, eyes trailing down to the fairground below.

--- “What WOULDN”T I do, u said..?”

Maybe he’s stalling, maybe he’s not. You have no proof, as far as he’s concerned.

--- “Well...” He leans down further, practically resting his head on the cold metal. Although his attention darts around as he observes the day’s activity, he registers next to none of it.

--- “I suppose I wouldn’t wamnt them 2 think I”m trying two hard. Peeple tend to “Talk”, U see. Nothing like barb-ed wire or anythign sillie like That. The Habi-Tat is notn’t a Prison.”

Isn’t it?

--- “Perhapbs the “Curfew” wuld need to be much earlier..? I woould need to be patrolling more oftn than usual, that is 4 certain. Surve-a-lance would be “Upped”, also, of cuorse, but I thimnk I wouldn”t need to be TOO mean...”

--- “Even if the Habiticians TRIED to eskape, th Carlas would handel everything!”

Right. The machines he’d created to do his dirty work for him, because Heaven knows that if he had to be the one to subdue fleeing Habiticians, he wouldn’t stand much of a chance.

And not because he worried that he wouldn’t be strong enough! Really, if THAT was the only concern, he needed to only let himself forget just where he was putting his hands, and, well-

No. He disliked having to use brute force- especially when it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Call him what you’d like. He can guarantee that none of it would be too far off the mark.

What the Carlas lacked in speed and intelligence, they made up for in numbers. The ones always actively present on the grounds were FAR from the only ones in The Habitat.

Even though this situation was only hypothetical, Habit felt himself smirk, nonetheless; oddly proud of his own genius and security. Normally any talk of unrest among his “guests” sent him into a panic. He just simply would not have it!

Not in HIS domain. HIS creation. If something isn’t working, then!!! He’ll FIX it, and move on!!

But... ah... He had yet to really adequately answer the question at hand... Right..?

--- “..... I”m...”

Something felt- unfinished, here. Did he have more to truly SAY on the matter?

The sounds of Martha were louder than he remembered. He rationalized the reason behind that being his close proximity to her, as anybody would.

It just didn’t make them any less overwhelming, at the moment.

--- “I... don’t think violence is.. nece-ssary.. to maintain the “Peace”, I mean. The way that Im running things right now is good. Yes??”

Habit allows a brief lull to enter the “conversation”- just out of politeness. When no answer comes to his question, he can’t but to feel foolishly disheartened.

Only a little bit, though. Just a teeny tiny bit.

--- “I know this is only a “what if”- I get that. But the question is ridic-u-lous, 2 begin with!1!! Absurd!!!11! This groo-some scenariio will NEVER come two be!! So!!!! Why WORRIE about it!!!!”

And that’s where he INTENDED to quit talking. Honestly, he did. With every second that passed, he could feel the dam begin to break.

No, the topic itself didn’t bring him ANXIETY, per-say....

... but he WASN’T letting his thoughts lead to their obvious conclusion. That was the missing puzzle piece. That was the reason behind his sweaty palms and urge to be sick.

Habit was good at blocking out all of the unpleasant things about life. Sure, they almost always inevitably resurfaced, anyway, but the goal was never to be rid of them for good.

Merely to stall. Always to stall.

But that’s NOT what he’s doing, right now! Because there IS nothing more to discuss!! Nothing! Nada! Zilch!

--- “...”

He hadn’t noticed how tight his grip on the railing had gotten- had barely registered the tension in his shoulders as he leaned further. Further... JUST so he could look down, better. That’s all.

The daily lives of the Habiticians meant little to nothing to him. He was able to seamlessly gloss over Punching Girl as she pretended to, predictably, fight something. Or someone. He completely ignored Broccoli Child- nearly rolling his eyes at a less than pleasant memory regarding the trash he once tried to sell to him.

Nearly.

He hurried to turn away, to head back inside. He knew that if he lingered for any longer that the incessant WHINING of a certain resident would start back up, again. Perhaps it already had and he’d merely gotten beyond used to it.

Great. Cool. Love that.

--- “I THINK yuo are under-estimnating the work I”ve put into Thee Habitat. I know verie well how 2 control MY Habiticians, and if push comes two shove, I”m SURE I could-”

--- “........ I... could........ .................. ah...”

Something about his wording froze him in his tracks. He would’ve clamped his jaw shut if he had the gall to; would have bitten his tongue just to keep any more comments on the matter to himself.

The smile from before never once left his face. He disliked how heavy it felt- disliked the fact that he apparently felt the need to keep falling back into the hole he was so DESPERATELY trying to clamber back out of.

He’d said all he needed to say. He’d done his part!

Habit lowers his head, back turned to the outside world. A chill seeping into the room reminded him that he’d forgotten to close the door. He normally wouldn’t care about such a minute detail, but-

One quick glance towards the “operating room” is all he needs to change his mind. It’s bad ENOUGH that he’s allowing himself to become so overly fixated on everything that could go WRONG, and not go RIGHT!! Nobody else needs to accidentally overhear something they shouldn’t.

Hand shaking (shaking??), he pulls it away from the glass; job done, and steps unsteady as he attempts to backtrack. Literally.

Habit whirls back around, action abrupt as he gradually loses his initial train of thought. His breaths are a bit labored, like he’d just been running, somehow, and he wants to fix that. He wants, more than anything, to fix this entire situation.

Pathetic. One simple hypothetical had sent him into such a state?? Disgusting.

If he couldn’t handle the fire, then he shouldn’t have walked directly into the flames. He had what it took to run The Habitat. He took every precaution necessary.

‘If your Habitat started to go way downhill, but wasn't a lost cause yet, and you had to resort to more extreme and harmful measures to keep your Habiticians in line, what wouldn't you do?’

‘What WOULDN’T he do?’

--- “. . . If. . . push comes to SHOVE. . .”

He changes trajectory. Wandering around aimlessly certainly wouldn’t help anything, and suddenly, he feels very much so like cleaning something is in order. How often did he do that, anyway?

Not often enough, he decided, eyeing the grotesque red splotches.... just about everywhere he thought to look. On the chair, some on the floor-

HOW did he manage to get blood on the walls???

Habit reaches forward to grab the nearby mirror on the tray, having already pulled a cloth from one of his pockets. Yes, a cleaning day was definitely in order. A dirty workplace leads to a dirty outlook on life.

No wonder he’s so stressed.

--- “... Well,” he shrugs, “who is 2 say that there will bee any Habiticians TO keep in line?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he doesn’t find any relief in them, whatsoever. So he continues.

--- “Let me elab-or-ate. CORPSES have teeth. Right?”

He turns his head, then; absently searching for the spray bottle he swore he had sitting on the counter.

--- “Who cares if “The Big Event” is SKIPPED, all-2-gether? I would not be above that. No “waitiing” and no “gettiing their hopes up” 4 something that was falsely advertized.”

--- “So,” ah, there it is, “to answer you”r question:”

--- “Nothing!11!!! There are absolootely NO lengths that I womn”t go in order 2 enshure that I gather More Teeth!!1!! So WHAT if I need to “take out thee trash” all at once?? So WHAT if I “accidentally” get the dosage wrong? They will bee happily and giggily, and then....”

--- “......... they will not.”

“Sick” doesn’t even begin to cover how he feels, right about now. Does he sound casual while discussing this? How is he coming off as while he so flippantly talks about murder?

Cowardly? Psychopathic? ... Terrifying?

Is he terrifying? He must be. There’s no other explanation, in his mind.

--- “No skin off MY back!! At leest CORPSES do not cry!!”

Habit twirls back around to the counter where he’d grabbed the spray bottle, content smile betraying him as he gently sets it back where he found it.

--- “At leest CORPSES do not struggle!! When they FIN-A-LLY stop moviing, they cann”t tell me: “Yuou womn”t get awaY with THis!!!1!”. They can’t skream and run- they can”t do any-thing At All!1!!!”

And that’s the beauty of it. Or, at least, it SHOULD be.

--- “Once they set “Foot” into The Habitat, it isn”t like theyre Going 2 bee LEAVINGG it, anyway!! I”mmn not beeing CRUEL!!! What I do- it’s BRILL-I-ANT!! So WHY should I feel BAD??!?!?!”

Why, indeed?? Yes, WHY should he feel bad about cracking a few chickens to make a brand new healthy egg? What is the harm in it?

Nonexistent, as far as HE can tell!

--- “Thee answer is: I shouldn”t, annd I don’t! I hope thiss conversatioon was en-lit-ening 4 U! :-)”

So... there. He’s done. It’s over. Rant over. He- He’s said his share. Had his fill.

Of course, NOW he’s gone and gotten himself all riled up. Who knows how long it’ll take him to calm back down? Once he allows that little box in the back of his mind to open, this always happens.

Why do you think he’s so keen on keeping it nice and SHUT?

Autopilot becomes comforting after the hundredth time you shift into it. Habit continues about his business, cleaning the operating room while humming a jovial tune to himself.

The fact that he stumbles in his steps every now and then is unimportant. His pounding heart barely matters.

So long as he’s smiling, it’s IMPOSSIBLE to be upset!

Maybe if he believes that hard enough, it’ll be true.

#| Dr Habit - ιc ☢#| Dr Habit - qυeѕтιon anѕwered ☢#| Ask Meme #Anonymous #Smile For Me #Boris Habit #cw blood #cw suicidal thoughts #cw murder #ask to tag #Long Post #this is some of my WORST writing and this shouldn't have taken me two days but #have? it????#hope it's good haha i just #REALLY loved this question #thank you so much btw!!!!!!!! A!

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side-effect-of-the-meds · 5 years ago

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Okay!!! Desperate for twinyards :D!!! Will Aaron ever found out that erin takes care of him when he is drunk? And will he find out that Aaron cares for him and will there ever be a point where the things he said when he is drunk would be said when be isnt? Gosh im such trash for your fem!andreil

I’m so sorry these asks keep taking so long! They take me thirty years to get to and then they turn out really bad. One day I’ll start creating quality content. Until then, have this.

In honor of Spoopy Month, it’s Halloween themed!!!!! (I borrowed a big chunk of it from my canon compliant fic Love of my Life but I just really like that part of the story. Sorry :))

“I never thought Crowley and Aziraphale would ever return to Eden,” Ronnie said as the Monsters made their way to the bar. Ania smiled. Erin scowled. “Aw don’t scowl at me like that, Angel.” Ronnie barely dodged the heels Erin chucked at her. With a broad smile, Ronnie turned her attention to Aaron. “I’m sorely disappointed to see that you’re not the Archangel Micheal.” Aaron glared at her but his annoyance didn’t last.

Aaron could never stay mad at Ronnie for long. For the longest time, Ronnie had been the only ray of sunshine in Aaron’s dreary life. The middle child and only daughter of a rich widower, Ronnie was free to do as she pleased while her father groomed her brothers to inherit his fortune. Having four brothers would be more than enough for most people but Ronnie hadn’t hesitated to adopt Aaron into her little band of miscreants. In the years before Erin’s arrival, it was Ronnie (and at times, her brothers) that had been looking out for Aaron. She was just as much his sister as Erin was. That was what made their relationship so hard for him to wrap his head around. He’d given up trying to make sense of how they could have gone behind his back like that long ago but on nights out at Eden’s he couldn't help but feel a little betrayed.

“Earth to Mikey,” Ronnie said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Come on, we’re toasting you’re little cheerleader. To Katelyn,” Ronnie cried as she raised her own shot. “For breathing -or maybe blowing- some life into Aaron!” Aaron shrieked at the crude joke as his family laughed, downing their shots. Aaron’s brain short-circuited at the sight of Erin downing her shot to the toast. She just wants to drink, Aaron told himself as he regained control of his thoughts. Curling himself into his shoulders, he stood apart as Ronnie caught up with the others.

“Aaron,” Josten said as she nudged his foot with her boot. “Erin said to grab a table.” Aaron nodded and headed off to search for one. Despite the pounding music, he heard Josten following him. He risked a backward glance only to find her watching him. He growled but Josten’s face remained blank. She’s been spending too much time with Eri, he thought as he went back to shouldering his way through the crowd. Finally, he found a table in the back of the club with just enough chairs for them. Without hesitating, he sank into one only to find it covered in something sticky and white.

“Oh Hell no,” he screamed as he leaped up. Josten peered over at his seat before doubling over in a fit of laughter. “Fuck off, Josten.” He snatched the paper towels she offered him out of her hands and did his best to clean himself off before kicking over the chair.

“I see temper tantrums run in the family,” Josten remarked. Aaron looked over at her. She was staring out across the dancefloor, a soft smile on her face. Following her gaze, he spotted Erin flickering in and out of view from where she still stood at the bar. A pang shot through his chest. Ania looked at Erin the same way Erik looked at Nicky- the same way Katelyn looked at him.

“Damn you, Josten,” he said, more to himself than her.

“I’m already damned,” she replied anyway. “I’m damned to spend the rest of eternity in love with your sister but if that isn’t damnation at its best, I don’t know what is.”

The world tilted beneath Aaron’s feet. Love. Ania had said she loved his sister. His Erin. His Little Doe. Tears spilled from Aaron’s eyes. “If you hurt her…” he said, his voice breaking before trailing off entirely as he gulped for air.

“She’ll kill me herself,” Ania answered easily. She reached a hand out and carefully wiped a tear from his face. “Don’t cry. Eri’ll skin me alive if you do.”

“Does she even care?” he asked. Aaron tried to smile as he asked it but he knew it came out as more of a grimace than a smile. A wave of sadness crashed down over him at the sound of his own words.

"Of course she cares, you cracked walnut," Josten snapped. As the strobing lights passed over her countenance Aaron could see the fury on her face. "I've only known her a year. You've known her for three? Four? How the hell can you not-" Josten stopped short. "It's because you're always drunk," she said quietly.

"No. That's Kevin," Aaron said.

"Whenever we're here. Whenever we go home, you're too drunk to remember."

"Remember what?"

Josten worried her lower lip, weighing her words "Don't drink tonight." She clamped a hand over his mouth before he could protest. "Trust me. You'll see."

"Trust a liar?"

"I wouldn't lie about Erin." It sickened Aaron to know she was telling the truth. For the remainder of the night, to Kevin's delight, Aaron discreetly pawned his drinks off to him. Where Erin excelled at faking the drug-induced mania she’d lived with for the last two years, Aaron excelled at faking a drunken stupor. Or at least, he usually did. Keeping up the act was much harder than Aaron anticipated. He was far too preoccupied keeping an eye on his sister to fully concentrate. A few rounds in, he gave up watching her in favor of retreating to the dance floor. At least there, he wouldn’t be under her constant scrutiny.

He was wrong. Each time the crowd parted enough for him to have a clear view of the ledge where he’d left them, he found Erin’s eyes trained on him. No matter where he went or what he did, she was watching him. Beads of sweat formed along his forehead. Had she seen through his ruse? Did she know he was faking?

There was nothing Aaron could do now but pray. He passed the remainder of the night on the floor with Nicky. Around 11:50, Ronnie called out for the final round. Josten was by Aaron’s side in an instant.

“Throw your legs onto Nicky’s lap in the car. And talk to Kevin about something- anything. Make him laugh.” Aaron broke his facade to shoot a confused look at her. “Just do it,” Josten pleaded. Aaron ground his teeth together as he considered his options. After a moment he gave her a sharp nod and made his way over to the counter with her to collect the final round.

In the car ride home, Aaron did as he was told. He threw his legs over Nicky’s and leaned heavily against Kevin. Kevin wrapped an arm around Aaron, who tensed immediately. Kevin Day was not known for his compassion nor for his affection. Catching the warning look Josten shot him as she buckled her seatbelt, he forced himself to relax. For once in his life, Kevin wasn’t talking about Exy. Instead, he was giving a lecture on the unabridged history of the LGBT community. Aaron tentatively slid his own commentary into the lesson. To his relief, both Kevin and Nicky laughed. He choked on the soda he was drinking when he saw the upward curl of Erin’s lips in the dashboard mirror.

Nicky got out of the car first as it rolled to a stop on the drive. He toppled face-first into the grass and laughter burst out of Aaron. He felt something pressing at his back and before he knew it, he toppled out of the car too.

“You drunk bastard,” Erin said. Aaron’s heart stopped as he rolled onto his back. Erin was standing over him, a brilliant grin plastered to her face. “That’s what you get for drinking so much” She bent down and scooped him up in an easy, obviously practiced, motion. Aaron was too shocked to say a word.

Aaron was suddenly thirteen again. He was sitting curled up on his mother’s bed with the handset pressed to his ear. A woman's voice drifted through it. She was talking about a girl named Erin. The woman was gushing about how happy she was to have found Erin’s birth mother, and her brother too. Brother, Aaron thought. He felt his heart racing in his ribcage. I’m- I’m a brother! A twin brother! Aaron had been over the moon at the very thought of meeting his sister.

The voice of his mother sent him crashing back down to earth. She hissed at the woman to keep her fat mouth shut. She didn't want to know anything about Erin. She wanted nothing to do with her and she certainly did not want Aaron seeing her again either. She slammed the phone down so hard that Aaron jerked the phone away from his face. Silently, returned the phone to its cradle and crawled back to his own room. Drawing his legs in, he tried to hold in his grief. Hot tears streaked down his face as his shoulders shook. Anger coursed through his veins. Clenching his jaw, he unfurled himself and stalked into the kitchen. He grabbed a notebook and pen from the kitchen and ran out of the house. He raced down the block to the park. Seated at one of the picnic tables, his pen flew across the page. He wasn't quite sure what he'd written, only that he had to send it before his mother ever found out. He stopped by the fountain on his way out of the park. He would need money to send the letter. With a grimace, he peeled his shoes and socks off. Wading through the fountain, he collected every penny, nickel, and dime he could find. This isn't stealing, he told himself. They threw their money in here. Even if it is, it doesn't matter. This is for my sister. This is for Erin.

Every day for the next two weeks, Aaron checked the mail in the hopes of finding a response to his own letter. When it came, Aaron nearly had a heart attack on the spot. He sat down on the steps in front of the house. With shaking fingers, he carefully opened the letter. A brilliant smile plastered itself across his face when he saw the chicken scratch that filled the page. It looked just like his own handwriting. Unfortunately, his smile had been quick to fade. Erin had only written back to tell Aaron that she didn’t want him around. She was more than happy to remain with Cassidy and her new brother, Drake. Aaron grabbed desperately at his chest. It felt as though some hand had forced its way into his ribcage and ripped his heart out. New brother, Drake. Tears fell onto the page. Ink ran, blurring the words into one another. Aaron ripped up the remnants of the letter up and hurled them in the bin. He collapsed on the kitchen floor, sobbing. Great, he thought. Fucking great. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone. I hope I never meet Erin or her new brother Drake.

But Aaron had. He had been sat down across from her in a juvenile detention facility, three feet away from her, separated by a four-inch pane of bulletproof glass. Looking at Erin was like looking through a funhouse mirror, it was him but something wasn’t quite right. Sure, Erin’s hair was longer than his, ending harshly at the edges of her jaw and she had a few more moles than he did but that wasn’t it. Maybe it was the seemingly permanent downwards tug of her lips. Maybe it was the bold set of her shoulders that exuded a confidence Aaron could only dream of.

Maybe it was her eyes. They were the same brown as his but where his were full of pain and fear, hers were empty. Two empty pits stared back at him from across the table. The glass may have been designed to protect him from Erin’s fists but it did nothing to save him from her eyes. So empty. So soulless. Aaron had once heard that there had been a time when people had refused to take photos for fear that they stole the souls of the photographed. At the time, Aaron had scoffed at the people for being so stupid. Now, Aaron understood. Sitting before his sister, he feared that if he stared too long into her eyes, she might steal his to replace the one she lacked. They were so cold. So empty. So loveless. On the plane back from Cali, Aaron closed his eyes only to find his sister engraved on the back of his lids.

Back in Columbia, Aaron stood before Nicky’s full-length mirror. He’d tugged a skull cap down over his head. His bangs poked out from beneath, matching Erin’s to a T. He blinked and it really was Erin staring back at him in the mirror. Reaching a hand out, he traced a finger down her cheek. Her cold eyes stared back at him and realized why he couldn’t look directly at them. They were their mother’s eyes. When Tilda Minyard wasn’t drunk or high, she was empty.

There wasn’t very much Aaron knew about his father other than the fact that his mother had eloped with him once she’d learned of her pregnancy. Tilda was three and a half months pregnant when Micheal Minyard died in a car crash. Depression coaxed Tilda back into old habits that Micheal had helped her break. She began drinking and chain-smoking despite the twins she bore within her. Both twins were born with fetal alcohol syndrome, manifesting in their stunted growth, ADHD, and Aaron’s dyslexia. Erin had developed a nicotine addiction as well. It wasn’t until after Aaron had found out about his twin that Tilda had told him this.

“I didn’t even want you,” Tilda mused as she took another swig from her whiskey bottle. “I wanted Erin but your names sound so similar that the shitty ass nurse fucked up and gave me the wrong one. You never stood a chance with me,” she said. “I was never going to love you.” Tilda swung the bottle at the side of Aaron’s head. It connected with his skull and rattled his brain but it wasn’t enough to dislodge the words from it.

Aaron pressed his forehead up to the mirror. Up to Erin’s forehead.

“Do you know why Mom doesn’t love us?” he whispered. “It’s because no one loved her. No one but Dad but he’s long gone. It’s his fault, you know? Luther’s, I mean. Mom is the way she is because her own brother didn’t love her enough. He didn’t love her enough to let her stay once she got pregnant. He didn’t love her enough to help her take care of us. He didn’t love her enough to protect you.” Tears slid down Aaron’s face as his grip on the mirror’s frame tightened. “Luther might not have loved his sister, but I’ll love you til the day I die.” Looking in the mirror, Aaron saw himself again but it wasn’t the same Aaron he’d grown accustomed to seeing. This one had fire. This one had fight. This one would protect his sister, no matter the cost. This one was going to save his sister from devolving into the monster their mother had become.

That Aaron failed. Erin was just as cold and empty as their mother had been. That Aaron failed. Erin was forced to face Drake all on her own. Every night, he lay awake wondering what horrors his sister faced behind the pristine white walls of Easthaven. No amount of kisses and cuddles from Katelyn were enough to bury the weight of Aaron’s broken promise. Guilt and regret intertwined, winding around Aaron and choking the life out of him. He broke down constantly, reduced to a sobbing mess by the weight of his woes.

Aaron loved his sister more than life itself. Erin was indifferent to him. Upon her return from Evermore, she hadn’t even spared him a passing glance. Instead, she’d fixated upon the child Josten had brought home. Aaron had never expected his sister to fawn over him. It wasn’t in her nature. Or so he had thought. It was because of this that Aaron couldn’t help the spike of jealousy that shot through him as he watched his sister’s shoulders soften when she held the baby. He could barely contain the scowl he felt tugging at his lips as Erin brushed her lips against the backs of Cleo’s hands.

Cradling Cleo close he asked her, “What makes you so special? I know why Erin lets Ania have what she wants but what about you? You’re just a baby. I’m her brother. Am I not good enough for her?” Tears splashed down onto Cleo’s face and he hurried to wipe them off of her. As he did, he felt Cleo’s tiny hand wrap around his little finger. It was just barely big enough to encircle the single finger. “Oh,” he said. “That’s why.” He sat down on the couch and lay Cleo in his lap. She looked up at him curiously before her face split into a wide grin. “No wonder Mom wanted a daughter.” Cleo babbled at him and he chuckled softly. “You’re right. Maybe Luther was jealous too. I won’t be like him,” he swore again. “I’m not going to abandon Erin. Or you either.”

Aaron loved his sister more than life itself. If Josten made her happy, then so be it. If Cleo was the one she showered with love, then fine. But a small part of him wasn’t fine. Erin didn’t love him. His sister, his own flesh and blood, didn’t love him. It left a hole in his heart, one that even Katelyn couldn’t fill. Aaron hadn’t known what he’d have to give up to Katelyn but what he did was far worse than anything he could have imagined. There weren’t enough words in any language to express the anguish that washed over Aaron when Erin had picked Ania over him. He’d used Josten as bait for Erin to break her promise but a small part of him had wanted her to refuse. He’d wanted Erin to pick him over her. He’d wanted Erin to do the unthinkable and tell him that she loved him more than she wanted Ania. He’d wanted her to wrap her arms around him and hold him close.

He wanted her to hold him the way she held him now as she carried him to the front door. Josten was already unlocking the door. She turned at the sound of Erin’s footsteps. A bright smile of her own burst out across her face.

“Shut up, Ania,” Erin swore.

“Haven’t said a thing,” Josten replied. She pushed open the door and let Erin pass. “Erin?” she asked as she followed them into the house. “Why do you only do these things when Aaron’s drunk?” To anyone else, it may have seemed like an innocent question. To Erin though? Getting anything from her was like pulling teeth. For half a second, Aaron didn’t expect her to answer. Then he remembered that it was Josten asking not him. A pang of bitterness pierced his heart as he felt his sister’s chest swell at the intake of a breath.

“Because he’s nice to me,” she said. Aaron’s head jerked up but Erin wasn’t paying attention. She’d stopped walking. Her eyes were trained on a spot on the wall. “After I killed Tilda, he stopped talking to me entirely. Aaron loved Tilda, even if she didn’t deserve to be loved, and I took her away. I hate when you say you’re fine because that’s what I told myself whenever he ignored me. I told myself that I didn’t care. I did. Aaron’s favorite color is navy blue. Half of my closet is navy blue. Aaron’s favorite song is Young Blood. It’s on every one of my cassette tapes in the car. I hate cool ranch chips but I buy three bags every time I go to the store because Aaron loves them. Tilda didn’t deserve Aaron’s love but he loved her anyway. I don’t deserve Aaron’s love either. I-” A shaky breath rattled through Erin. “I just wanted him to love me too.”

“I do,” Aaron blurted out. Erin snapped out of her trance at the sound of his voice.

“You’re not drunk,” she said. Her voice was dangerously quiet. Her eyes were dark and stony but this time Aaron didn’t look away. The longer he stared, the more apparent it was to him that they weren’t empty. Staring into them, he saw something flickering deep down inside.

The truth about cameras is that they don’t steal your soul. They show you yours. No matter how perfect a picture may seem to others when a person looked too hard at their own, they saw what lurked beneath. It wasn’t that Erin had their mother’s eyes. It was that she had his. When Aaron looked too hard at his sister’s eyes, he saw too much of himself. He saw the sad, empty creature he’d become. He saw the defeated, lonely creature he still was. Most people hailed Aaron as ‘the normal twin’, the Dr. Jekyll to her Mr. Hyde. No one realized how wrong they were.

Erin was a fatalist at heart. To her, everything, every single thing, was predetermined. If the world believed her to be a monster, then that was what she’d be. She played her part and lived exactly the way people thought she would. It was all an act though. Behind every one of Erin’s monstrous acts, was a lonely little girl trying her hardest not to get left behind again.

Unlike his sister, Aaron didn’t believe in fate. Every man made his own way in life, no matter the circumstances he faced to make it there. If that was true, then didn’t that make Aaron responsible for all the things that he’d done? Growing up, Aaron had done many things he wasn’t proud of. It didn’t matter who suffered so long as it wasn’t Aaron. If there was no fate, then wasn’t Aaron responsible for all the people he’d hurt? It wasn’t Erin who was a monster. It was him. When Aaron looked too hard at his sister’s eyes, he was forced to face the monster he had become and it scared him.

Aaron felt the support go out from under him and he hit the floor, hard. Erin spun on her heel and shoved past Josten. Neither of them moved until they heard the door to her bedroom slam shut.

“I told you so,” Josten whispered. There were tears shining in her eyes. “It’s over, isn’t it?” she asked herself.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked.

“I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone about this and now… she’ll never trust me again.” Her voice broke.

“Ania-”

“Don’t, Aaron.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the house, nearly knocking over Kevin who was dragging Nicky in.

“What the hell have you done to her?” Kevin snarled. Just the sight of a teary-eyed Josten was enough to sober him up. He abandoned Nicky and closed the space between himself and Aaron in the blink of an eye. Balling his fist in Aaron’s shirt, he shoved him against the wall. “I’m not asking again, Aaron.” This is what a brother should be, Aaron thought.

When Ania first arrived at Palmetto a year ago, she and Kevin were always at odds. No matter what she did, it was never enough for him. But that was because he knew she could be better. Nicky had made the mistake of mocking her once and Kevin and slammed him against the wall just as he held Aaron now. Erin intervened quickly, breaking them apart with a poisonous smile and a flash of steel but one thing remained: Kevin Day, a man afraid of his own shadow, hadn’t hesitated to square up the second someone dissed Ania. And that was before he’d found out who she really was.

Kevin and Ania weren’t bound by blood the way the twins were. They’d chosen each other. Ania had chosen to follow Kevin out to Palmetto and Kevin had chosen to have her back. But hadn’t the twins done the same thing? Erin chose to move to Columbia and Aaron had chosen to protect her. Why had they failed where Kevin and Ania had succeeded? The two of them were just as broken as the twins. In fact, they were worse. Ania had lived her life in the shadows, jumping ship the second anyone started to get too close. Kevin had lived his life in the limelight, denied anything even resembling a friend.

Even without knowing her, Kevin had looked upon the wretched creature that had been Ania Josten and wanted to offer her a future. He had wanted to offer her something to live for. Kevin would never be able to love Ania the way she needed to be but he wanted to give her the chance at a life where she could find someone who could.

And he did. Kevin brought Ania to Palmetto and gave her a reason to keep going. He brought her to Erin, someone who could care for her the way she needed to be cared for. But what had Aaron done for his sister? He’d pushed her away the second things got hard. He’d denied her of the love he’d promised himself he’d give. He’d made her lonely.

“How?” he croaked. “How do you do it?” Kevin frowned and his grip loosened.

“How what?” he asked.

“How do you always know what Ania needs?” Aaron had seen the way Ania ran to Kevin the second things fell apart. Too many times, he’d come back to the dorms to find her breaking down in Kevin’s arms. Each time he’d watched Kevin swaddle her shaking form in blankets and offer her things: a cassette player with only one tape, a bowl of vanilla ice cream drowning in chocolate syrup, his laptop with an exy game already loaded.

During Erin’s time at Easthaven, Aaron had found himself craving the smell of cigarette smoke. He wasn’t a smoker but the smell reminded him of Erin. One night, he finally caved and dragged himself to the corner store. He returned with a pack of cigarettes and another pint of strawberry ice cream. Every time Aaron passed by the corner store, he picked one up. He never ate a single one, though. Opening the fridge door, he realized there wasn’t any space left. Every inch of his fridge was filled with pints of strawberry ice cream.

It should be empty. The fridge should be empty. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. Aaron didn’t know when the tears started or how long he’d stayed knelt in front of the open fridge, only that Ania kicked it closed before sitting down on top of it.

“There isn’t enough strawberry ice cream in the world to fix her,” she said. She handed him a tissue box and waited for him to blow his nose.

“Then what will?’ he asked.

“That’s for you to figure out,” Ania said before unplugging the fridge. That was what Kevin said before he let go of Aaron entirely. With that, he left Aaron alone in the kitchen so he could lug Nicky up to his own room.

Aaron sat heavily in one of the dining room chairs, picking at the table mats. It was early the next morning when he finally decided what to do. Actually, he didn’t decide. He just kind of stood up and started for the stairs. He didn’t even remember taking a single step. One moment he was at the kitchen table, the next he was standing in front of Erin’s door. He reached a hand out, tracing the letters on the door. The memory hit Aaron like a train.

It had been a week after Erin had arrived in Columbia. Aaron’s name was already on the door and he had wanted to add hers to it too. Ever since he’d been old enough, Aaron had been working part-time just to keep himself and Tilda fed. In the months before Erin was set to come home, he’d picked up extra shifts to scrounge up the money he needed. With it, it went to the crafts store in the rich part of town. He picked out the four letters he needed and bought the highest quality paints he could find. On Friday, after practice, he’d broken into their mother’s liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels. Downing a swig, he found the courage to present his haul to Erin. It took some coaxing but he managed to convince her to sit on the floor with him on a pile of newspapers. Together the two of them painted the wooden letters black. Once they were dry, Aaron watched as his sister painted constellations onto them.

“What’s that one?” he asked.

“Gemini,” she replied.

“Astrology,” Aaron said as he crinkled his nose in disgust. Erin glanced at him, her lips just barely curling up.

“Have you ever heard the story of Pollux and Castor?” she asked.

“No,” he replied.

“They were two brothers, twins, from Greek Mythology. They did everything together,” Erin said softly. “The two of them couldn’t live without each other. So, when Castor lay dying, Pollux called out to his father for help. Zeus saw his son’s pain and offered him a way to save his brother. Zeus offered Pollux the ability to share his immortality with his brother. Doing so would mean that neither of them could live normal lives again. They would no longer live here on Earth and they’d only have each other as company. Pollux agreed immediately. To him, his brother was more important than anything else in the world. So, Zeus turned the brothers into stars. Together, the two of them live side by side in the sky.”

“Wouldn’t you get lonely if you had only one person to talk to?” Aaron asked.

“Not if it was you,” Erin replied. With that, she picked up the letters and moved them to the desk beneath the window. The two of them climbed into their respective beds and fell asleep.

Aaron took a deep breath and knocked softly at his sister’s door. He stood there, his heart hammering in his chest. What if she didn’t answer? Aaron took a deep breath. He’d just try again later. Ania was right. What they’d done tonight had betrayed a great deal of Erin’s trust in them. If she didn’t answer, it was because he’d hurt her, just like he always did when he was sober. Aaron leaned his forehead against the door. “I’m sorry, Eri,” he whispered. Just then the door opened and Aaron toppled forward again. Erin neatly sidestepped his falling form but caught him with an outstretched arm. “Eri-” he began. He stopped short, realizing he didn’t know what to say.

Erin gave up waiting for him. She righted him and stepped back. Aaron took it as an invitation and entered her room. Aaron had never been inside his sister’s room. In the pale glow of the first rays of sunlight, he saw the dead roses suspended from her ceiling. A thousand photos covered the surface of the mirror. Upon closer inspection, he found that they were pictures of the Monsters. There was one of Nicky smiling brighter than the sun as Erik pressed a kiss to his cheek. There was one of Aaron shoving Matt, the two of them smiling. There was one of Wymack with his head resting on Abby’s shoulder. There was one of Bee dressed up as a bumblebee. There were a lot of photos of Ania. One of them had been kissed with black lipstick. Erin was the only Fox that owned black lipstick. As Aaron inspected them he was aware of Erin at his back.

“There aren’t any with us in it,” he said as he dragged his fingers over them.

“Yes, there is.” Erin wrapped her hand around his wrist and guided it to one all the way in the bottom corner. Its sides were crinkled from being taken out and replaced too many times. There was a fold down the center from when it was been folded in half, probably placed between the folds of a book.

It was a photo featuring a pair of babies. Both of them had wispy blonde hair, most of which had been tucked beneath a little beanie. They were dressed in matching white onesies patterned with little sharks. They were two perfect, identical little babies. Erin laced her fingers through Aaron’s and he suddenly saw it. The two babies were holding hands too. Eyes closed, unable to even see one another, they had taken hold of each other’s hands. Babies didn’t have much strength, but the two of them were clinging to one another like their lives depended on it.

“Eri-” he croaked.

“Yes or no?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. Erin turned him to face her. She wrapped an arm around him and drew him close. Tentatively, he wrapped his own arms around her. “Erin?” he asked softly. She pulled back just enough to look at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t better.”

“You were the best,” she said. “You still are.” For once, Erin’s eyes weren’t empty or angry. Instead, they were hard. Resolute. If anyone else had said it, Aaron wouldn’t have believed it. Erin wasn’t a liar. Every word she said, she meant.

“I can be better,” he offered. He watched as she worked her jaw, searching for what to say.

“I think I can be, too,” she said. Time seemed to stop. Aaron watched as the smallest of smiles tinged his sister’s lips. The rays of the rising sun filtered through Erin’s thick curtains, illuminating the fading freckles that danced across her face, forming constellations of their own. It turned her pale hair, bound in a messy bun atop her head, into a halo of pure gold. Erin might have been dressed as an angel last night, but she looked more like one now than she had then.

#just a pipe dream #fem!andreil asks #erin minyard #ania josten #aaron minyard hc #aaron micheal minyard #aaron minyard #wholesome twinyards #fem!andreil #the monsters #kevin day #the foxhole court au #the foxhole court #all for the game au #all for the game #all for the gay

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hcrofraid · 5 years ago

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Rules:

HALLO THERE! Here’s my rules! They’re a bit long, but hopefully you can push through ‘em and we can get a chance at interaction!

1. Themes might vary with this blog. Although I’m typically SFW, I might touch upon dark topics here and there.

Things will be tagged! I’ll try my best, anyways. If you want something in particular tagged, please let me know. The format I use for tagging is, for example, tw: swearing.

I don’t have any triggers but I do ask you tag all of your NSFW content.

That said, I won’t do anything NSFW - gore is okay, though.

I’m of age.

2. I‘m a little selective, but otherwise - I’m open to canon, au, crossover, and original characters! As long as their muns rp literately/write para.

If it’s a crossover, I have to know the fandom and be at least a little bit confident with it. This is so I’m able to work with you, our thread and have muse for it.

Absolutely no godmodding. It ain’t fun, fam. If you’re not sure what this term means, do look it up. This includes powerplaying, metagaming, and other things of that nature. This applies especially in fights if they happen (I’m chance-based and hope that you are too).

I can be picky with OCs. But rest assured, if you’ve followed me/interacted with my promo, I’ll always give your pages a read.

Please don’t be offended if I don’t want to interact with you (and please don’t try to guilt me into doing so!).

As for following back, I usually take a week tops to do so - but if you’ve hit up my promo, I go through that eventually.

As I’ve said, I’m selective and as a result mutuals do take priority - but I don’t have to be following you for you to interact with me. It just means I’m more likely to interact with you if you’re a mutual.

3. Please don’t rush me for starters or responses.

PLEASE understand that I have blogs galore and my muse tends to fluctuate; this can mean I’m everywhere at once and can end up neglecting a blog or two. It’s nothing personal; you know how muses are! Additionally, life happens to be a thing.

Please note the mun deals with anxiety and depression - this might affect how frequently she roleplays.

Chances are, I’ve probably has seen that bit of interactivity and just haven’t gotten around to responding yet.

My roleplaying style being para/multi-para, I may take a while to respond. I hoard drafts like a dragon - it’s really just the motivation to write and ship those out.

Just a reminder I hoard all your asks too, even weeks later. If I don’t respond to it, I’m either keeping it for a rainy day, or just can’t find the muse/interest for it currently. If it’s been a month or two though, just assume it wasn’t working for me unless I’ve informed you otherwise.

4. Shippings? Heck yeah I’m down for the fluffy content, as long as they’re of similar age to my boio.

If I don’t happen to be interested, don’t force anything on my character.

I do not ship incestuous ships. Do NOT follow/interact if you do.

Sontails will not be happening on this blog either, sorry.

The ship has to have chemistry; I’m generally shipping trash, but if they don’t click, they don’t click, sorry.

This is a multi-ship blog, meaning there will be more than one ship without them conflicting with eachother.

If you want to ship and I already have a ship of your choosing going with a duplicate, please don’t hesitate to hmu! My ships aren’t exclusive and each character/relationship portrayal is unique to me!

Relationships are eternal until you deem otherwise.

5. Whilst I am of age, I’m not aiming for sexual content on this blog (and will not be dealing with fetishes). That stuff makes me uncomfortable, and I typically don’t recommend pulling it with my character if you’re interacting with me. Nonetheless, should it arise, I will tag it appropriately. Also, Tails is a child. So no.

6. About reblogs…

I am not a meme source, and reblogs clog up my activity. Please reblog any memes you find on this blog from their SOURCE. The exception to this rule is if there is no source; go ahead.

I don’t feel comfortable with Personals reblogging my IC or OOC posts, so please don’t do that. If I put something in the fandom tags for whatever reason (bar promos), you’re free to, though.

Please don’t reblog my art unless I’ve drawn it specifically for you or said you can. I either have that as do not reblog for a reason, or I am planning to post it on my art blog at some point.

A few times is fine, as it happens, but repeatedly breaking these rules will result in me soft blocking you.

I try to participate in reblog karma as much as I can, but always reblog from the source/a meme source.

If a post or ask is for you, you’re free to reblog it to save it though - but only if you’re an rp blog!

7. I’m a para / multi-para blog, novella if I’m adventurous and have time. Whilst I may roleplay crack threads with shorter responses, this does not apply to all threads I write. This means:

I write my replies as detailed as I can muster.

Short responses (such as one-liners) in more serious threads where I’ve written a decent deal can instantly kill my muse for that thread.

Whilst I’d prefer for partners to at least somewhat match my length, it’s entirely up to you - just try your best and make sure you give me enough to work with. ♡

If my muse happens to go nuts out of nowhere - like, overboard - don’t stress too much about matching them.

If para roleplays aren’t your alley, I’m unlikely to roleplay with you. It’s nothing personal; it’s just finding muse for one-liner threads is incredibly difficult unless it’s dash shenanigans. Anything else outside that is fine, though - we can still have fun outside of proper threads.

If you need further context on the AU, the link to it’s tag is here! Otherwise just ask me!

Tails’ AU is one I’m very proud of and very attached to, so please don’t force your headcanons about him on me. If you’re unsure how certain events play out in the context of his universe, don’t hesitate to ask me about them!

That said, anything that might take place on this blog obviously isn’t canon to the AU itself; I just like writing for this boio and it helps me develop his character. It’s all hypothetical.

Additionally! Don’t worry too much if the headcanoned relationships between Tails and other muses don’t match yours. Those are mostly just guidelines for how Tails would USUALLY interact with your muse. I’m open to altering these relationships to better fit our threads! Don’t ever feel restricted to what I put down; it’s mostly just for context purposes because, well, Tails is absent. I’m an IM away for plotting.

8. Threads typically happen naturally with me, but if you’re looking for interaction opportunities:

I’ll have a permanent starter call somewhere for you to hit up; honestly though, if you’re a mutual? Pls feel free to hit it up.

Starter memes are the BEST way to interact me because they just yeet a prompt at my face and really help me write starters. If you see me reblog one, send one!

If there’s a verse you’re interested in, please specify.

If you want to turn an ask into a thread, go ahead!

I may not roleplay with every starter I am given - I’ll do a ‘background check’ if you’re a new blog on the block. If I don’t feel your writing style/length works with mine, I might not respond. Apologies. ;__;

Please don’t write para / novella starters up for me unless we’ve discussed something, sent something, or I’ve liked a starter call. I really don’t want to leave people hanging if I’m not interested.

IMs are open to mutuals, if you want to do any in-depth plotting.

I also have Discord! If you’re mutuals with me, feel free to ask for it!

9. Guidelines on mains and relationships:

If we’re mutuals and we interact a lot, you’re welcome to ask me if I’d like to be your main!

Please note that MAINS fall into two categories; one pertaining to Tails’ initial universe, and those pertaining to alternates. Although the latter is plenty, for clarity’s sake, there would be one alternate Tails might default to.

Please don’t be offended if I deny, though; I typically want to pick those I trust to be my mains as well as people I can comfortably write with.

Not limited to them! I roleplay with duplicates galore so don’t be afraid to hit me up if you want to interact!

Pre-established relationships are a-okay in my book; if you have an idea for a relationship between our muses we can work towards, hit me up! I reblog those pre-established relationship memes every so often too. Romantic relationships link back to the shipping guidelines.

Also, friendship/family/rivalry relationships are EXTREMELY valid to me. GIMME’ ALL THE PRECIOUS BONDING CONTENT PLS. THIS BOY NEEDS FRIENDS.

10. If you have any issues, please let me know and hopefully we can resolve it!

Mun is actually super nice, so don’t be afraid to hit her up!

I am absolutely terrible with IMs and sometimes even Discord. I either respond quickly or days later, depends on my mood. Social anxiety tends to interfere with this - but honestly, if you’ve sent something, I’ve likely read it and just haven’t gotten around to it yet! It’s nothing personal; trust me! I just need a social breather every now and again.

Please leave me out of drama; I’m here to have a good time, as is everyone else, and it pains me to see people arguing.

11. It’s easier with a clean dash for me, so I’m more likely to follow people who:

Trim their posts.

Have rules and about pages! I always read those before interacting or following!

If you don’t have either of those, I’m likely not to follow you - so make sure that you do!

12. On threads…

If you’re not interested in a thread anymore, and would like to drop it, please let me know! I’d feel terrible if we’re both not having fun with it or if partners feel overwhelmed with the amount of threads we have.

Honestly, unless I let you know, our threads have no expiry date - so no need to worry about me dropping them without telling you. I can just be quite slow sometimes.

13. Mun does not equal muse! Anything Tails might say does not reflect on how I think unless I explicitly say so.

14. Know that if I follow you, I WANT to interact with you.

I literally couldn’t care less about follower counts. I care about YOU guys and our interactions.

15. If you’re OKAY with threads being set in Tails’ universe (and acting as his inverse counterparts), please like / reply to this post! It just lets me know I’m A-OK to shoot you asks pertaining to it, rather than the usual alternate shenanigans.

16. These rules may be subject to change.

Please like this post if you’ve read the rules! You don’t have to, but it’s of personal reassurance to me if you have.

#|| rules.

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csantos45 · 5 years ago

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8/24

I dont know were to start with this but on Sunday, January 26, 2020 the world lost a living legend by the name of Kobe Bean Bryant. Words cant describe how I felt earlier when I first heard the news. I didnt want to believe it at all, I was praying and hoping that it was all fake. Then Adrian Wojnarowski whos one of the biggest sports reporters dropped his infamous woj bomb...but it was one woj bomb I wish he didnt drop. He confirm that Kobe has passed away in a helicopter crash in Calabasas, California. Not only that but his daughter GiGi along with Coach Alltobelli, Wife Keri and daughter Alyassa were also part of the Crash😔My whole body was in shock, like it was numb, I felt cold, and it seem like the world just stop for a moment. It was one of those things that you couldnt believe that it actually happened. Until now, I'm still in disbelief with the news. Anyways, I just wanna share the impact Kobe had on me on as a player/fan of the game.

As a fan growing up kobe was my Michael Jordan of my era. He had the moves like MJ, the swag, and that killer instinct when needed. He would never back down from anybody, he didnt care who and how good you were. He went into every game knowing that he was gonna destroy you or whoever was guarding him. Kobe just had that mentality, like he said before "once you smell the blood, you gotta go in for the kill!" Thats were the Mamba mentality takes over, once he gets into that mode its pretty much GG and your best bet is hoping to contain him. Just ask Alvin Gentry and Jalen Rose, they know about it.

He would also destroy you mentally, and take you out your game. If you were weak, best believe he will expose you and you that against you. No matter how good of player you are, once he got in your head. That was it, he already won before the game even started. He would probably dap you up before the game, have a nice conversation with you, and just catch up. Once tip-off starts though thats it, be prepared because it was going to be a long night of buckets and trash talking.

I always knew whenever Kobe was playing, it was must watch Television. Especially the 2009-2010 season were he had like multiple game winners, but the one that stuck to me the most was the one he hit on Wade and the heat! Down two with like 3-4 seconds left, Kobe hit a One foot leaning to the left Dirk type jumper off the backboard to seal the win for the Lakeshow. Kobe was having a bad shooting night too, he went 3-15 I believe (correct me if Im wrong) but that shot was crazy and the reaction from Flash was Priceless.

A other favorite Kobe moment, actually performance of mine would be his game 6 performance against the Suns in the 2010 Western Conference Finals. Shoutouts to my best friend but man Kobe was giving them the business, shot after shot. Not just your average jumpers but hand in the face contested like crazy jumpers, I remember one he hit on Grant Hill. Grant was playing amazing defense, didnt fall for Kobes pump fakes but somehow Kobe still found a way to score and afterwards gave Alvin Gentry a slap on the butt. Mamba was definitely cashing out that game and that performance will always be one of my favorites.

As a student of the game, watching kobe from his afro days to the switch up from 8 to 24 in the 06-07 season. His game transition pretty well as he got older. When he was rocking 8, his game was mostly based off of athleticism and hot/cold streaks when it came to shooting. Now dont get me wrong his jumper was getting there but it wasnt as consistent when he switch to 24. His defense was good, not great yet but good. Imo he was always a solid defender. He did keep AI in check when they met in the finals in 2001, except that game one. Other then the 3 peat he had with Shaq, and arguably the best duo of time. His most memorable moment though with the number 8, would have to be his 81 point performance against Toronto. The second most points in a game in NBA history and to do it at Staples Center, Amazing!

Imo though when Kobe switch to 24, thats when he peaked and was the best version of himself. thats when his game went to another level. He was more sound on offense and better discipline on defense. from his off season workouts with Hakeem to improve his footwork to endless sideline to sideline shuffles to improve his defense and his fadeway was unguardable. All he needed was a little bit of room to get it off, and no matter how good of a contest you got. if you didnt block it that was it, It was going in. His offense was so smooth and the amount of detail he put into every move was a beautiful thing to watch. Equivalent to the sweet science of boxing! Such a gifted player on both sides of the ball, he was such an enjoyment to watch.

Another thing that is lowkey slept on with Kobe was his defense. We all knew how great of a scorer he was, and didnt pay that much attention to his defense. Honestly, he is probably one of the best on ball defenders of all time. He would fight through screens, switch on everything, and always wanted to guard the teams best player and that right there shows how much he cares about defense. Not only hes clamping up your teams best player but hes also giving you buckets on the other end! He always wanted a challenge and never back down from one.

Lastly before I wrap this up, his work ethic was undeniable. He was never satisfied with himself, he would always work on something until he perfected it. No matter how small or big the challenge was, he was gonna do it and do it right too! The mamba hated failing, his work ethic was shown throughout the years and his game spoke for itself. He earned everything, nothing was giving and unfortunately thats rare to see nowadays.

The game will truely miss you Kobe😔Thank you for all the memories you shared with us, everything you taught us, all your accomplishments on and off the court will always be remembered, but most importantly Thank you for everything you have done for the game. The impact you made on everybody! From all the athletes, celebrities, fans, and people who dont follow the sport like that. They all showing you love, that right there, the impact you made on us is remarkable. A Dad, Husband, Role Model, Friend, and a Legend gone way too soon! May You, GiGi, John, Keri, and Alyassa Rest Easy!🙏🙏 #Mamba #MambaMentality🐍

#kobe bryant #black mamba

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turtle-steverogers · 6 years ago

Note

Ralbert for #20 please?

hi i asked for these requests like a week ago and then ignored them til now so yeah

anyway this sucks, sorry.

warnings: hospitals, implied suicide attempt, scars mentioned

ship: ralbert

word count: idk, a fair amount

20. ...On a scar

“Pull in there.”

Albert frowned, pressing on the brake briefly and putting on his turn signal.

“Into...that train station?” He asked, turning a questioning eye on Race.

“Yes,” Race was staring pointedly out the front windshield, his eyes flickering over the parking lot wildly. His hands were drawn in close to his body, nimble fingers fiddling anxiously with the buttons on his jacket.

Albert pursed his lips, easing the car into the train station and cruising around the empty parking lot for a moment before pulling into a space.

The train station itself was outdoors and held a strange sort of energy, the usually hectic vibe completely absent in the late hours of the night. It was peaceful and if it weren’t for the events of that afternoon, Albert would have turned on some music and enjoyed the atmosphere.

“I owe you an explanation for earlier,” Race was speaking firmly, as if it had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to talk.

Albert swallowed, glancing at him, but Race’s gaze never met his. He was ashamed.

“If it’s too much…” Albert began.

Race shook his head, “No, I...I should.”

“Okay,” Albert nodded, “Yeah, what happened back there?”

Race took a deep breath, finally looking at him.

That Afternoon

“I think we need to get you to a hospital,” Albert murmured, kneeling in front of Race, who was sitting against a grimy brick wall, heading hanging low between his knees. Blood was dripping smoothly from his nose and a gash on his temple, where glass could still be seen poking from the wound.

His eyes were screwed shut, pained hums escaping his lips every few seconds. Apparently, picking fights with random assholes in bars wasn’t a good idea and might end up with one getting hit rather hard in the temple with a bottle, several times in a row. Race swore he hadn’t blacked out for a couple seconds, because really, he hadn’t, but Albert wasn’t convinced. Just like he wasn’t convinced that Race didn’t have a concussion.

Race’s state turned from barely conscious to wildly alert in a matter of seconds as his head whipped up at Albert’s words, eyes widening for a moment before scrunching up again. Albert’s eyebrows furrowed, Race’s sudden change in demeanor sending a shocked pang through his chest- as if warning bells were ringing resolutely.

“No,” Race slurred, resting his head against the wall, “M’fine, Albie.”

“You’re bleeding from several places and probably concussed, I wouldn’t call that fine,” Albert reasoned, grabbing Race’s forearms and hoisting him up, much to Race’s dismay, “C’mon, there’s one a few blocks away.”

Race struggled in his grip, pulling away clumsily. He opened his eyes completely, fixing Albert with an unsettling look, fear glistening just beneath the surface.

“No, Al, I don’t wanna,” he whined, taking another step back.

Albert frowned, shaking his head, “Race, it’s alright. I’m sure you’re okay, I just wanna- whoa,” Albert stepped forward to steady Race as he swayed, head lolling for a moment, “Okay, yeah, we’re definitely getting you to a hospital now.”

“Don’t need to,” Race said, “Don’t want to.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice,” Albert said, a certain authority taking over his tone.

Race seemed to weak to fight it any further, and Albert held him upright as he hailed a taxi, knowing they were too far from their own car to walk. Besides, the parking garage they’d parked in was in the opposite direction from the hospital.

After a few minutes, a taxi drove up and helped Race in. Race immediately rested his head against Albert’s shoulder and Albert watched as he covered his ears, no doubt to block out painful noise. He was definitely concussed.

When they arrived at the hospital, Albert tapped Race’s chin, reluctantly rousing him. Race blinked his eyes open and he looked around, confused.

“Where’re we?” He asked as Albert unbuckled him, helping him out of the car. Race’s head lifted and he winced when he took in the bright sign at the head of the hospital doors. Immediately, his grip on Albert’s bicep tightened, “No, no, no. I told you I’m fine,” he rushed out, turning to climb back into the taxi, but whimpering when he discovered it was no longer there.

He turned back to Albert, unadulterated panic in his unfocused eyes, “Please, Albie, don’t make me.”

Albert huffed, “Okay, but- shit,” he swooped forward to catch Race when his knees buckled, “Nope, okay. I’m once again convinced that this is strictly necessary.”

They made it as far as the waiting room before Race tried to run for it again, fighting as fiercely as he could against Albert’s hold around him.

“Race, stop,” Albert hissed, wrangling him into one of the crappy chairs and kneeling in front of him, “You need to- Race?”

Race wasn’t looking at him. Instead, his eyes were transfixed intensely on a spot over Albert’s shoulder. He was shaking violently, breaths coming out short and strangled and for a moment, Albert entertained the prospect of calling it a day and taking Race to urgent care in the morning. But one hurried glance at the abrasion on his head cancelled those thoughts.

“No, no, not again. I don’t wanna do this again, not here.” Race was mumbling hysterically to himself, hands finding their way to his forearms. He gripped them tightly, tears making their way down his cheeks as he began to cry.

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” Albert mumbled, lifting a hand to brush away some stray tears, but quickly withdrawing it when Race jerked away from him violently.

“Higgins?” Albert cursed to himself when the nurse who had checked them in called them back. Race was in no state to be looked at right now, but he was getting paler by the second. From pain or panic, Albert didn’t know.

Race looked dazedly from the nurse to Albert, shoulders sagging, “M’gonna throw up,” he mumbled, lurching forward.

“Shit,” Albert bit out, turning to look for a trash can and humming thankfully when the nurse, who had been hovering nearby, handed him a plastic bag.

Albert held it in front of Race, wincing when his sick piled into the bag. He retched for a few moments, sobbing uncontrollably as he did so. Albert forced himself to remain neutral, speaking absent-minded comforts to Race as he finished.

“Let’s get him back,” The nurse said, making to help Race up.

Race pulled back, ignoring the nurse and looking at Albert, “Don’t make me,” he gasped, “Please, don’t make me.”

Albert and the nurse exchanged confused glances, a silent question between them.

Albert shrugged, turning back to Race, “Why? Talk me through it, love.”

Race shook his head, “I- no. No, just- don’t.”

Albert sighed, refusing to lose this battle, “It’ll be super quick. In and out, right?”

The nurse nodded, “We just need to make sure there’s no serious damage.”

Race curled further in on himself, “Can we do it out here?” He asked, weakly, “don’t wanna go back.”

The nurse considered for a moment, “Alright.”

Present

“When I was in...tenth grade? Yeah. When I was in tenth grade, I, uh, fuck,” Race looked to the side, clenching his jaw. He open and closed his mouth a few times before swearing and turning his body to face Albert. He kept his eyes down as he tucked one leg underneath him and held out his left arm, palm facing upwards. He seemed to steel himself for a moment before sucking in a breath and slowly inching his shirt up.

Albert’s eyes traveled from Race’s face to his arm and he swallowed, the blood draining from his face. Starting at his wrist and traveling to the middle of Race’s forearm was a long, vertical white line. The skin was raised, and although the scar itself had faded, the outline was stark and jarring against Race’s smooth skin. Oh.

Race heaved in a breath, “It didn’t work, obviously,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Albert watched him intently, waiting for him to continue, “And when it didn’t, of course I had to go to the ER…” he trailed off, lost in thought, “Worst night of my life. Ever. Swore to myself as they stitched me up that I’d never fucking go back.”

“Race I…” Albert felt numb, scared, unsure of what to do. In place of words, he reached down and carefully lifted Race’s arm, pressing his lips to the scar.

Race held his breath as Albert sat back up, “I’m so sorry you went through something like that and I’m sorry that I put you back there today.”

Race seemed as a loss for words, glistening eyes moving from his arm to Albert. Albert’s fingers skimmed down to clasp their hands together tightly.

“Today was scary for you, I know,” he said, gently, “But I promise to keep you safe,” he squeezed their hands together, “and if there’s anything I can keep, it’s my word, right?”

Race nodded, squeezing back, “Right.”

mmm yeah my writing ain’t the best in this lol

i’ll try and get the other requests that i abandoned done soon

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST:

@bencookisagod

@we-dont-sell-papes@suddenly-im-respecsable

@aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @felix-loves-albert-and-ralbert@axolotlwhizzy

@andthewoildwillknow@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog@sunshine-e-cigarettes @have-we-got-news-for-you@musical-shitposts@thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@snakesarenonexistent

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

@kpop-kk

@mentallytiredgoat

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@spot-me50-papes

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@faithmil

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

@bxnesof92

@backgroundnewsies

@sure-as-a-star

@skybert-daherty

@eveningpaper

@malex-13

@albert-eats-cookie-cake

@heart-a-n-o-n

@bitching-newsboys

@orollyitsracetrackhiggins

@joshuaburrageenthusiast

@random-superhero-stuff

@awkwardstranger98

@falling-out-trees-101

@modern-race-owns-airpods

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twistedesire · 5 years ago

Audio

How a Heart Can Shatter

Once upon a time I fell in love With a man i deemed "The one" He was shy and sweet And awkward Just like me I trusted him very much For he was no ordinary man to me He was my first love And now, i fear, my last All i knew of men Was endowed to me by him He was a liar A deceiver And still i endured through many red flags He blocked doorways Stole away my ability to cry for help Trap me in ways with words That made my emotions my very prison I prayed i was not the only one The only girl he hurt But the further i searched the more i realized I'm alone And forever i'll remain as such You see, i'll never fall in love again Who would want a rapist pedophiles trash Who would shoulder my burdens he left me in No one You see I loved a man who admitted to me after 8 years he was looking at children sexually Delving into the confines of his own mind As to why a man would touch him as a boy I thought i could save him Figured time and space would save us from ourselves Instead it drew the poisoned blade of betrayal further into my chest And i'm the barer of the hilt I thought that if we ran off together Like a magical love story Away from the judgement Away from the hate But i could never run from myself The scars on my heart do fester still Every time i gaze upon his pictures They swell up with the deceitful infection he truly is He moved on so fast 8 years Less than a week it took for him to move on And the more i knew of his inability to control himself The more i waited in silence I waited for my friends For any family that truly cared Liar Shit novel apologist Cyber bully Bitch Rude Pity Party Finger pointer I own my lumps The pills do swell in my throat now And i can't comprehend to communicate any further Because how can one speak when all she hears is a cold deadly silence Filled with the echoes of loved ones a girl would die for Only to know that my love cannot be returned How all i needed was a simply hug A gesture of kindness A form of attention to at least show that i know i hurt But i have done what it took to be better Isn't that how justice works? I do wrong I apologize meaningfully Show the change with actions alone Only to see that even though i am human And i make mistakes That i am not allowed to act upon my emotions Dont feel sad Dont get angry Im not feeling anything friend I am nothing... I do not ask for pity I do not ask for sympathy I plead and grovel and beg for your ability to just read my words Know my pain is real And i plead Upon the line that is my life That you belief the words i am about to say Joseph Bass Once a man i loved with all my heart and soul You raped me You cheated on me You lied to me so so so much You robbed me You hurt me You drugged me And now all i can simply say is Thank you Thank you for being the final nail in the coffer I don't need your attention anymore I dont need anyone Or thing I dont need to exist I now can leave this plane of existence Knowing there is worse things in life Than simply death itself That although i drown in my emotions tonight And maybe even more inside my mind And maybe drown physically too I let you go Finally i let you go in my soul I burned your name on a piece of parchment paper With all the reasons i couldn't forgive you And i burned my hand in return I drowned you out of my head When i tried to breathe aquatic air And as i lay sputtering out The liquid that i desperately tried to replace in my lungs From the screams of internal pain of your betrayal I realized I could lay here and die And no one would come save me No one cared.... That the only way a person who truly cared were to know my name anymore Was in a report in a social media group I do not hold a bitter heart I do not speak in spite In fact tears do stream from my eyes tonight As i pick at the few pieces of what hope in humanity i had left The fact that i was even alive I do not comprehend I kept imagining it inside my mind Almost with an empty smile That you never loved me All the times you grabbed me And begged me "please dont cheat on me" As i simply left to lose the weight you complained Got in the way of your fantasies of what you dreamed a woman for you could be You made me feel like if i didn't learn Didn't flourish Didn't grow That i was the perfect one for you In proving in doing nothing Living dead inside That i was proving to you my loyalties As a faithful and honest woman You broke me in ways i wish i could consume cyanide upon And although i do not blame a soul for my pain I give recognition i hurt too That i am human And i feel pain too That empathy is a curse More than a gift And i may make it worse By falling further into darkness That one day i'll see you Face to face And i'll look you in those eyes i compared to "Eyes of a warrior of earth and fire" Only to speak from mine of "I wish i died before i met you" Because my heart has been broken For the first and last time i'll ever permit it And although i was just a token For you to just simply keep I want you to know You broke the true light in me 8 years And i was the other girl You lusted for a youthful girl Children were not innocent anymore Neither am i Virginity was never my chastity belt My ability to pretend i did not know My ability to act as if their is no evil That my super powers to love beyond all my being Were taken from me in ways that help the dirt upon my coffin splatter harder And when you let me down one last time Please i beg of you Do not leave a rose A letter of love Do not come to see my body that i mutilated Because i wanted to prove to myself That i can only hurt me now That i screamed "i loved you" inside my mind Only to know the words that were spoken upon my lips Were those of all that hurt me in my heart Broke me till i became heartless That you had no respect for even your new mistress And that's what helped me move on And when the day comes If i make it to that day I wanted you to know Thank you anyways For the bloodied sheets The vericrose veins The inability To truly help me The lies you instilled into my drug addled brain And the fact you killed the my inner child that was my last line to be sane And as i lose myself To a darkness i may no return I hope you know that, yes I secretly wanted you to spurn My anger internalized Into bruises upon my own arms and face I can scratch myself till i bleed now And bite till a mere tattoo And all i ask of as a final wish upon my death My love for you Was it worth all this Lying so much that you tainted an already shattered heart That when you deceived me The true betrayal was that i finally felt whole Only to see that it was all an illusion That all i am to you was a concubine to satisfy your affections And when i simply asked in return was for your protection That you too cast me away in ways and words That broke me I finally learned to hurt me by choking myself till i cant see And when i sputter for air and i cry and internally scream I know that i am in a darkness so black That shadows have come for to take my soul back Take me away to another world Take me away from here Take me away from the pain So i dont feel again That when you finally feel any emotion That deems you human Such as true sadness and pain I want to ask you "Does it hurt? Do you want the pain to stop?" Because when i begged you the same You simply replied "No, it feels good" That the moment i came to the realization That my pain had brought you pleasure I realized In the pit of my stomach You did not love me And that to me was rape That as i asked and state "owe stop it hurt" and you replied with your cold cruel callous words I broke off inside my mind To a land of the divine That god needs me now And i dont belong here anymore That apparently it took me to be raped to grow And i dont want to be here In a world of such cruelty Because even as the tears trickle to puddles at my feet I'd rather simply end me So i dont have to ever be seen I tried to do better But i stood up for myself I thought i was finally being brave Instead i was hurting loved ones Without even trying And my anger burned Because it felt like that that was all i was to others A friendly face A giving soul A generous person a smile to ensure your happiness And when you ended it with words such as "i love you as a friend" i knew you did not care any more That you were held back by people who i did not love you either That inside my mind All i can remember is your smiling face And now Every smile is a lie Every human who wants to interact wants something And every face that once meant so much Is now the reason i don't long for another human touch That i lay awake at night Thinking of the things you did to me And how it violates my being And i wish a thousand ways to die to simply end me And tears sting upon my skin And they burn inside my eyes And i am now i realize i the 8th sin One that burns with an endless fire One of immortal pain A twisted desire All it took was one To break a damsel to be a dragon And when you run to another Or get rejected time and time again Remember the woman who filled your fridge Who cleaned your laundry properly Who scrubbed your dishes spic and span Who folded your underwear that special way you like Who rubbed your feet and massaged your back Who helped you up when you could no longer bend straight Who directed you when you were lost Who gave her everything to be your other half Only for her to realize that i was 100% of the connection And all i asked for was my 50% of your simple affection And as my eyes watered up Asking in a voice that croaked "i think i want to die" When you ignored me I just simply broke When you shielded yourself with others While i knew i had no one And all i can think of is of my own mother And how i had to disown Because she is older now And her task is done She raised a woman And i have my own beautiful home That may end as a tomb But i love you mother Friends and family I was just trying to stick up for me And blew up in rage And i apologize for being greedy All i wanted was your affection I know it was very needy I cut out my gluttonous addictions And im sorry i was so prideful Pompous upon my beleif That i did nothing wrong For how you all reacted to me And now i see it and the pain does burn That if i finally quit Its only me i spurn That im so alone that im already dead inside And now im trapped in my home And i feel nothing Even if i am alive That i could be a ghost Wandering around an already empty apartment And what hurts the most Is would anybody even notice?

0 notes

not-poignant · 7 years ago

Note

[1/3] Hi Pia, I wanted to ask u something cuz Im getting shit for an OC Im writing & idk what to do. When I read ur Fae Tales I was v confused by Gwyn&Augus' relationship as I felt like Gwyn hurt more than felt better during their scenes. W time tho I kinda understood that in order for Gwyn to overcome part of his trauma, Augus was having him deal with it by doing stuff that Gwyn hates. Im trying to deal with a similar topic here, but Ive been told that my dom OC is abusive & that its disgusting

[2/3] of me to think abt it as something acceptable. My OC has been abused since he was a kid, both physically & emotionally and he’s now at a poit of his arc where hes desperate to feel better and not disgusted w himself. So he asked his dom to help him break (and he’s v resistent, since he bottled up everything since he was young). Im not writing that the dom enjoys it in any way, but I still get shit like “youre sick, you cant do this, you know nothing abt ptsd”. // [3/3] I really feel bad for this, since I dont wanna pass the message that I condemn abuse in any way. I dont understand whether this is fandom purity or me not doing my research right and fucking up. Also bcos it’s a one-time thing, it’s not something that will go on and continue, since I myself am not comfortable with writing abuse. Idk what to do, can u help me?

***

It is really tough for me to give advice on something I haven’t read. I mean I kind of…can’t? I can only really give like, very very general advice, to you as a writer, and I’m not sure how helpful it will be.

Like, maybe you are misrepresenting PTSD. Maybe it is coming across a certain way. I can’t tell you whether that’s happening or not. I don’t know if you’re getting any positive comments, or any positive feedback, and I don’t know what fandom you’re in to say whether it’s definitely purity wank (like Dragon Age, where it often is, but still doesn’t mean that some people don’t make good critiques of things).

However, I will say this:

An author has the right to write the scene you’re describing, and even misrepresent PTSD or BDSM or whatever is happening, and it still has a right to exist in the world. That doesn’t mean it will be free from criticism, and if you write controversial or ‘dark’ content, it likely won’t be free from criticism. Them’s the breaks.

You have the right to delete comments, ignore them, or choose to take them on board. And probably some other choices (like taking some of it on board, adding an extra warning in your story like ‘this isn’t a representation of a healthy relationship’ or whatever, and then deleting the comments or ignoring them).

You’re clearly being bullied, and getting personal hate. As soon as someone takes the feedback from ‘this is unhealthy and squicky’ to ‘you’re sick’ - they are erroneously assuming that you are the same as your writing, and that’s not okay. It’s not accurate, not correct, and usually indicates the comment itself is only really fit for the trash. It strongly points towards purity wank bullshit. You don’t have to honour attacks on your personal character, and I strongly believe that folks shouldn’t bother engaging with people who attack their personal character in fic feedback.

I get comments like this on my work sometimes. I delete them. On the very rare occasion I might respond, when I think it’s more valuable for a reader to see a sound, reasoned, non-defensive response that calmly explains what I’m doing in a way that shows both sides of the situation. That’s rare. I just delete them. Once or twice those people have chased me into my inbox, where I block them.

I can’t comment on your story, the quality of your story, or whether you’re achieving what you set out to achieve, or if it’s being done well. I haven’t read it, I can’t do that. The only thing I’d say is make sure that your tags are comprehensive, and if you don’t have one already, maybe consider a warning in your author’s note at the beginning that you’re not trying to write a realistic/healthy relationship and anyone expecting that should exit stage right (or something similar).

I warn for the same with Gwyn and Augus. Honestly you’d think people would know this, being in the fiction tags, but they don’t. Especially people who toe the purity wank line.

I can say that you - as a human being - do not deserve to be personally attacked for what you’re writing, and the delete button is within your reach re: these people’s feedback (if it’s on AO3 anyway). You need to make sure you can look after yourself, and also that you don’t cave to people who cast aspersions on your character. Maybe there are flaws in your fic, all you can do is change that in the future or choose to edit now, if you decide to do neither because you’re not comfortable with abuse, then that’s that. You still have the right to protect yourself from people who are hounding you, and blocking folks who don’t understand one of the most fundamental laws of fanfiction - The First Law of Fandom: ‘Don’t like? Don’t read.’

And maybe take some time to remember what you like about writing fic. Go find some positive comments you’ve had, or read some stories you’re proud of. I’m not sure if any of this stuff helps, because it always hurts a lot to get these kinds of comments, but haters will always exist in the world, and sometimes the most important thing is to just let them know that you won’t tolerate them around the things that you’re creating out of love, for free.

#asks and answers #pia on fanfiction #pia's dodgy advice #I'm going to just quietly ramble #until I can tag this in more to avoid the bulk of fandom #on fandom #on fanfiction #purity wank #fandom wank #purity bullshit #look the whole 'you're sick' etc.#does make me think it's purity wank #but i *have* read stories that represented PTSD really badly #amazingly though #what did I do?#I clicked out of them #or I kept reading them because I liked the tropes #that's what...most people with PTSD will do my friend #that's how reading fic works for the vast majority of us #and I'm not saying you're doing it badly #I'm just saying you're getting a kind of extreme response #that you *don't* have to put up with on AO3 #and on Tumblr I highly recommend blocking and blacklisting #and also *not engaging with these people*#if you've been defending yourself to them #stop doing it #almost nothing can be gained #in their eyes #they only win when you are appropriately shamed and admit you are terrible #*don't engage with them*

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a-moment-in-time-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Newt x male!reader :: Home - Part 1

Requests/Notes: @tyrelmocs Gave me a really detailed plot to work with! Thanks for being patient and explaining all your ideas to me! Also thanks to @vincentvangoghtthefuckaway who originally requested a Newt x male!reader story. I hope you enjoy this one--let me know what you think. :) It’s going to have multiple parts.

WC: 2,244

! Warning: Mentions of blood and violence

You were tired. Beyond tired. The lactic acid in your tensed muscles burned more like battery acid and your teeth were clenched to the point that you thought they may shatter in your mouth like shards of glass. When you managed to pry your eyes open momentarily the edge of your vision was blindingly white.

“Is he, well--?”

“We won’t know until the morning, his cells need time to rearrange.”

“And you think this rearrangement can get rid of his...his…”

“His curse. Because it appears to also manifest itself physically, this should help manage the symptoms that psychiatric care could not.”

“He just, well, he looks like he’s in so much pain.”

“The process isn’t easy, sir. These moments of struggle, however, are worth a lifetime of normalcy, or at least as normal as someone like him can be. Where’s his mother?”

“His mother won’t see him.”

“I see.”

“She’s...well, she’s a bit disturbed as well.”

“Mmm, I see. Well, nonetheless, he needs to rest tonight. Enough current has gone through his brain to light a 500 watt incandescent lamp. The nurses will be checking on him overnight to make sure no more convulsions occur. Let him rest for now, though. He should be exhausted enough to sleep through the night.”

Footsteps against a hard floor and the closing of a door and then silence. It took you a moment to remember where you were and why you were even here. Your “electroshock therapy,” or whatever the doctors called it, must be over. Your legs burned as if you had run miles uphill and were at odds with your brain which felt like it was coming out of the darkest slumber. You tried to take a deep breath but realized a leather strap ran across it tightly. You felt the familiar adrenaline rush of panic. Usually, this feeling would be accompanied by some strange event that no one could explain. You unlocked impossible locks to escape rooms, you broke a shelf of dishes a room away, or, if it was a particularly strong reaction, spontaneously set things ablaze. Now, though, you were too tired, far too tired. You let the muscles in your entire body relax in an orgasmic sort of release and fell back into the comfort of unconsciousness.

The next morning, you were woken by a nurse throwing open the curtains surrounding your bed. Light sliced through your eyes and immediately the knot of a headache began to form in your skull.

“Rise and shine, love.” You still felt tired, but the absolute blackness of dreamless sleep seemed a bit clarifying. You also had a small seed of hope in your heart. Maybe, just maybe now you could be normal. Maybe people, even your parents, wouldn’t be scared of you.

“Let’s get up, the sooner you get your muscles moving again the better!” You looked at the clock. The nurse was far too cheerful for 7 a.m.

You slipped on your pants and sweater and noticed that your skin was red and shiny and looked almost burnt where the straps had been across your body. You stood up and wobbled for a minute, but with the nurses’ help you gained your legs enough to walk down the hall to meet your father. He was as unreadable as ever and looked you up and down with curiosity as you approached like he was already trying to determine if you had been fixed.

“Mum, I’m home,” you said softly at the bedroom door. Your father, still not speaking to you, urged with a nod to try again.

“Mum?” you knocked with your knuckles, “I’m back from the doctor.”

A low, ghastly groan came from the other side of the door. It sounded inhuman, or demonic, as people liked to say.

“Alright, you go in,” you father finally said.

You pushed open the heavy wooden door, leaning into it with all your weight. In the center of a huge room lay an iron bed. There was no other furniture in the room besides a small table which held an oil lamp. The walls were bare but for a wooden cross directly above the bed and one dirty window with the curtains drawn shut.

“Mum…” you stepped in slowly. Your father immediately slammed the door and locked it with a key, nearly catching your arm. The sound seemed only to annoy the figure lying in the bed which again moaned loudly.

“Mum..I...I think the treatment may have worked,” you inched across the worn wooden floor trying to mask your terror with a cautious smile, “And the nurse said that, well, if you want to that is, that possibly...if it’s successful on me, they may be able to help you too.”

You felt something grab you by the collar, though all that was there seemed to be air. Your mother reached a withered, bony hand from under the blankets and was holding out a fountain pen like some sort of wand.

“W-where did you get that…?” you said nervously. She wasn’t supposed to have any sort of sharp objects at all, or anything that resembled a stick or rod.

She flicked the fountain pen, sending a spray of ink like black blood across the floor and you flew towards her as if someone had pushed you in the back. She flicked it again and you fell to your knees, legs locked together. This time the ink had splattered across your face.

“Mum, you’re not s-supposed to…”

“You’re not normal,” she said with a sandpapery voice.

“What?”

“You’ll never be normal. You’ll never be like they want you to be. You’re like me,” her voice was small but loaded with hatred, “They’ll want to change you, but they never will. They never will!”

She flicked the pen again and you crashed into the opposite wall. She had never been this strong before. She’d never had someone to channel her power.

“Mother...stop…” you pleaded, trying to remain calm. You didn’t want to feed her with your own fear.

“You’re better off dead than living in this world,” she spat.

“No...you’re wrong. I’m going to get better.”

“You’ll never be like them.”

“Maybe I don’t have to be.”

“What’s going on in there!?” your father asked through the door.

“Nothing--” you tried to reply, but were cut off by another invisible blow, this time to the center of your stomach. You tried to stand up, your instinct was to run, to get away from this as soon as possible. Before you could pull yourself to your feet, your mother had begun to speak again. It sounded like some ancient language, like Latin.

“Crucio.”

In a moment you were sure that you were once again getting electroshock therapy, this time fully conscious. Every nerve ending in your body felt like it was being filed away. Your bowels and stomach emptied their contents as you screamed the most primal sound you could make. The door slammed open, you heard your father scream and felt the floor rumble like an earthquake. Suddenly, the room was on fire and you weren’t sure if you couldn’t breathe because of the smoke or because of the pain.

The next time you awake it’s in an alley, with a trash bin blocking the bitterly cold wind with colorful figures standing over you. They seemed to be two people in full-length jewel toned cloaks trimmed decoratively. Once again, you found yourself an observer of a conversation about you.

“But how’d it get this bad, Gertie? He’s half-dead!”

“We can’t track every single obscurial in the entire world.”

“Yeah, but really, now what? ‘is parents is dead. No orphanage is going to take ‘im at this age, and now the bleedin’ Ministry is gonna be on our arses for not catchin’ this sooner!”

“Calm down, Tim.”

“Calm down? I just had to risk me flippin’ life draggin’ this kid outta a burnin’ building! An’ now I’ll be facin’ an inquiry!”

“You weren’t going to die. I was there as well.”

“Ohh, my hero!”

“Just shut up for a minute. We need to figure out what to do with this boy. His life is the priority right now.”

“I saw we leave ‘em. Leave it up to nature.”

“That’s a horrible idea.”

“He don’t ‘ave any other family?”

“They’re not going to take him. The entire neighborhood is already starting rumors that it’s arson.”

“What about another wizardin’ family lookin’ to adopt?”

“It’s not that simple. But…”

“But what?”

“He’s school-aged, right?”

“Yer not thinkin’ of sending ‘im to Hogwarts?”

“I think it might be his only chance at a normal life. No way can he go back to the Muggle world now, and if we could find a family for him to stay with during the summers…”

“He’d be so behind everyone else!”

“Better than developing a full blown obscurus.”

They both went silent for a moment.

“ ‘Is mum was real powerful…”

“Which is exactly why we can’t risk the development of an obscurus. Then it won’t just be an inquiry, but our heads.” “Blimey…”

“Let’s just get him to the Leaky Cauldron and make sure he stays alive long enough.”

“Yea…”

You felt two hands grab each of your arms and, still pretending you were asleep, felt them pick you up slightly. There was immediately a great whooshing sound and you felt your entire being stretched like a rubber-band. Your eyes flew open and before you could blink you were standing in a completely different place. You were in some kind of pub. Everything was cast with the golden glow of a giant hearth and a huge pile of metal steins shined from behind the bar.

“ ‘Es awake!”

The two robed figures turned to face you. The tall, pale on grabbed you by the shoulders, “My boy, are you alright?”

“Erm,” was all you could manage.

“Thank goodness you are conscious. Do you feel nauseous? Sick in any way?”

“Just...just tired. But, where am I?”

“The Leaky Cauldron, my boy. We’ll explain later. Right now you need to rest. You’re safe now.”

“Yer in good ‘ands!” the shorter wizard added with the warmest smile you had ever received.

“Who’s this?” a young, auburn-haired witch turned to face you from the bar. She had large, sparkling hazel eyes. She wore a maroon cloak with a twisting golden dragon embroidered around the hem.

“Ah, Madam Scamander.”

“That’s Miss to you, Gertie.”

“Miss Scamander, this ‘ere’s an Obscurial! Well, almost one. ‘Is whole family’s dead.”

Gertie elbowed Tim hard in the gut, causing Tim to fold forward and let out a steady stream of expletives like a punctured balloon lets out air.

“Is that so?” Miss Scamander’s eyes darkened and her friendly smile was gone, “I’m so, so sorry.” She looked you directly in the eye, something many throughout your life had been too terrified to do.

“What Tim means is that yes, he was close to developing an Obscurus, but it seems we found him in time. The rest is just noise for now as we need to find him a place to stay for a few days.”

“He can stay with me,” Miss Scamander offered immediately.

“What? That would be asking too much, Madam. Far too much of anyone. He needs constant supervision.”

“I’m home all the time, and now that Theseus’ graduated we have a spare room.”

Gertie and Tim looked at each other nervously and then to you.

“This is dangerous magic, Miss. We don’ even know if he’ll be fit for school. He don’ even know ‘imself the extent of ‘is powers.”

“My powers?” you cut in.

“Yes, your magic,” said Gertie softly.

“Magic?”

“Oh, you didn’t even explain things to him,” Miss Scamander gave a reprimanding glare to the two men aside you.

“Aw, come on! We jus’ picked ‘im up!”

“We just rescued him from a burning house, ma’am. We can straight here. Not really much time to--”

“Well, you’re a wizard,” Miss Scamander said to you, once again meeting your eyes.

“You don’t have to be so frank…” Gertie said, the wind blown from his sails. It was as if she’d ruined some big surprise.

“The pup might as well know,” Miss Scamander tucked a few strands of her bobbed hair behind her ear, “It’s good to know there are others like you.”

“Others...like me?” you dared.

Miss Scamander’s smile returned triumphantly as she nodded.

“Well, we still need to work out loding--”

“I told you, he can stay with me until the Ministry figures something out. If he was really that close to developing an Obscurus he certainly needs attention. Plus, Newt’s about the same age. He can teach him a little about our world.”

“Madam Scamander--”

“I insist. I can’t leave someone in need just like that. Especially not when I have plenty of room and food.”

“Erm…”

“C’mon, Gert! This could work out perfect!”

“I suppose…”

“That way we can say the boy is with, er, family. No inquiry today, mate!”

“Oh, fine,” Gertie conceded.

Miss Scamander clapped her hands together and stood up. Her skin was tanned and sun-spotted giving her a rather radiant glow.

“Alright, pup, let's get you home and washed up. You’re going to be just alright. More than alright, in fact.”

She reached a hand out to you and you clasped it with your own shaking one. Thoroughly confused, but attracted to her motherly disposition, you decided to trust her.

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tags: @ladytevans07 @frankthethunderbird @allnewtsbeasts @danisaurus-rexx @hardcore-ravenclaw @storyofmemory@needlesinacandybox @confused17yold @astronomicaldun @orangepumpkinpen @meka-meow @prodigal-books @see-the-thestrals @newton-scamander-lover @legit-trash-bro @kawaiiusagichansan @cutedictionary @itsleviosa14

Special thanks to the lovely @i-am-elsa-defying-gravity

#newt x reader #newt x male!reader #newt x male reader #newt Scamander x reader #newt Scamander x male reader #newt Scamander x reader fic #newt x reader imagine #newt x reader fic #fbawtft #fbawtft fic #fbawtft imagine #fantastic beasts imagine #fantastic beasts fic #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts and where to find them

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