#crazy... and also full of stupid beauty standards so fuck that

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Can't believe Tumblr is spamming me with "self help" posts that are the most depressing things I've ever seen in my life on Sewerhell Sunday... How dare it do that to me

[b4tasquad]

DISTRACTION: AJ SHABEEL

Authors note: i just had to I’m sorry😭 also wrote this at night in one sitting, if there are typos/ grammatical errors, I’m really sorry.

Warnings: most of it is smut ( 18+) minors dni

…

Aj’s days were always a new adventure. There was always something new to do regarding work, and there was never a dull task he was completing. To many, a man in his mid-twenties working such an uncertain job was crazy. There was always judgement for his way of life, but the man was genuinely never bothered by it.

He was content, and that was all that mattered. Coming home that day, a grin on his face at the video he knew was going to be well liked, he felt as if there was nothing that could knock him off his high horse.

The second Aj’s eyes had landed on you though, he knew something had happened. From the way you looked so unenthusiastic to the furrow between your eyebrows. You were burdened by something, and God forbid your boyfriend let it brother you.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

At the arrival of your boyfriend, you pout slightly, just wishing to be in his arms. As if reading your mind, Aj’s arms open and welcome you into his embrace. Eagerly you get off the couch and leap into his awaiting arms, every single worry fading away as his cologne overtakes your senses.

There are nothing you can use to express the feeling of being in his arms other than coming home. He carries a sense of protection with him that you’ve became so used to.

After finally feeling like you could speak without breaking down in tear, you pull away from his chest. “My boss screamed at me.” Aj nods, hands coming to cup your cheek as he makes sure to let you know he’s listening. “Told me I was being unprofessional for something that wasn’t even my fault!”

“What a bitch.”

You’d usually scold your boyfriend for his lack of respect, but right now you couldn’t find it in you to do so. She had humiliated you in such a public standard, leaving you to actually look unprofessional. It was no lie that you let many walk over you, it was a bad habit. But even this was something you refused to accept.

“I’m not mad.” You sigh, leading him to your shared room. He takes a seat on the bed, pulling you to sit sideways on his lap. “I just feel stupid. She made me feel stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.” He kisses your cheek affectionately. “You’re the smartest person I know, baby. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

At his words, a little feeling of hopefulness fills your deflated mood. “You really mean that?”

“Course’ I do.” Aj speaks with such certainty, it makes your legs shake. Under the faint lighting the two of you have in the room, his features light up, illuminating his beauty perfectly. He was beautiful inside out, and you loved it.

You lean his head an inch back before capturing his soft lips in the slowest, most meaningful kiss. What had been a show of gratitude turned more heated as Aj placed his palms on each side of your hips and placed you on his lap properly. Your arms find a secure spot around hi shoulders, hands inching him closer by a push at the back of his head.

The two of you work in sync, your bodies moving in one to full-fill your desires. It doesn’t matter how many months you’ve dated, or the amount of times you had already been in this position; Aj explored your body like he’d never seen it before. Every caress with the intent of getting to know your body inside out.

Even with your love for this steady and secure pace, you needed a relief right know. The incident at work was still running through your mind, and all you wanted was to: forget forget forget.

At your shift in the make out, Aj gazes up at you, and there’s nothing that can prepare him for the next words you utter. “Fuck me dumb.”

He stiffens, body failing him as thousands of thoughts speed through his troubled mind. Aj’s sat still, eyes on the wall behind you in shock. You take his silence as your cue to continue. Rocking your body slightly forward, and leaning into his hear you kiss the skin. “Please Aj, make me forget.”

While the man might not listen anywhere else, here he’s obedient and instantly flips you over. You lay with your back pressed up against the soft mattress, while Aj’s diving into your body, kissing, licking and sucking like it was his only goal in life.

His mouth works wonders, and his touch haven’t even moved down from your upper body before you start to let out sinful noises. It seems to fuel his eagerness, because in seconds, he’s pulling down your sleep attire, finger hooking around your underwear.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” His question is one he knows the answer to. The only reason he’s ‘asking’ is so you verbally tell him how much you need him. At your breathy mumbles, Aj teasingly kisses your clothed core. “I guess not.”

The speed in wich you’ve pulled him back from leaving you unattended is actually abnormal, and even Aj has to chuckle a little at how impatient you’re being. “Please.”

The please is all Aj needs to hear, because the second it leaves your lips, he’s nose in between your legs, lips and tongue working in unison to take you there.

His perfect laps and sucking are affecting you in ways nothing else can, and by the time he licks a clean swipe up your slit, you can already feel the temperature rising to unbearable heat.

You’re thankful for Aj’s beautiful hair, because with his long curls you’re able to guide him, pulling in the direction you needed him the most. Like a starved man, he eats you out, eyes blown open wide and breath hot against your core.

“Aj.”

The moans you’re letting out makes him struggle to continue, the dent in his pants becoming too hard to bear. “Come on.” He encourages, not for a second stopping his action of licking you dry. “You’re almost there.”

And there’s no lie in that, because the second the words leave his mouth your legs starts to quiver around his head, head leaning back and eyes shutting. Your high washes over you, providing you a feel of euphoria as your boyfriend works you through it.

You’re not completely recovered when he pulls away, lips crashing against yours in a dizzying meeting. It takes you great strength to move your lips against his, but his hand against your jaw makes it easier and you kiss him back just as roughly.

Faintly, you can make out Aj unzipping his pants, letting his hard bulge become visible. Even in your hazy state, you know exactly where this is going.

“I don’t know if I can, Aj.”

At your words he just nods, as if he’s certain. Leaning over you he trails kisses across your face. “You’ll try though?” He asks, obviously expecting a certain answer. “My good girl. You’ll take it, right?”

Your answer comes out in broken moans and half nods. That’s all your boyfriend needs because without warning he smoothly glides in, your drenched core welcoming him like always.

A painful whimper leaves your open mouth at the impact, and Aj kisses your neck repeatedly. “You’re doing great, baby.” You focus on his words, finding it was much easier than centering upon the pain. “I’m gonna move, okay?”

When given the signal, Aj freely moves, his experienced strokes pleasuring you in a way you found hard to understand. With every snap of his hips, sound from his mouth, and movement of his fingers around your throat, you find yourself falling more and more into the sexual satisfaction.

Your dispute with your boss was long forgotten as Aj’s name was the only thing on your mind. Someone could ask you something as simple as your birthday and you’re sure the answer would be too far away to get it.

Getting lost in the feeling of him filling you up, you close your eyes. “Eyes on me.” Aj reminds you.

The last strokes before your orgasm were a blur because the pleasure becoming too much is the only thing you can focused on. “I’m-“

“I know.” Your boyfriend kisses your lips. “Go ahead, baby.”

His words made the awfully tight knot in the lower part of your stomach snap, leaving you a loud mess. Aj talks you through it while riding out your orgasm. Coming undone for the second time feels even more amazing than the first time because you’re so out of it. You have no idea where Aj finishes or when he gets up to go to the bathroom, but when he comes back with a damp wash cloth in his hands there’s no question.

He was the best distraction ever.

…

Tag list:

@p3drii , @jiusz , @n1kodl , @shuuuuush , @w1shes43 , @alltoowill0w , @slutforpablogavi , @enhacolor

(Check pinned to be added!)

[yoshikoooo]

Scaramouche and Kazuha  AS YOUR BROTHER! HC

Kill me romantically~

No, Im seriously worried about your mental health if he was your brother.

Hearing loud thuds at night and a scream of profanity is now normal to you. 'He is obviously losing on his game' . You rolled your eyes and went back to sleep.

Your brother is not much of a sweet type of brother.

Rather an egocentric one.

He obviously doesn’t like it when someone other than him gets to be presumptuous around you. Knowing Scaramouche, Once they get on his nerves, He would obviously do some tricks to lure them out and Beat the heck out of them. also, he wont forget to vent his undying anger on them. 

" You assholes! Wasting my time here! And there! If you guys had some sense and didn't pick on her then this wouldn't have happened! " 

He said furiously while kicking their stomach.

You obviously know how lunatic Your damn brother is and Knowing that, You still dare to pick fights with him. Go bad bitch, go bad bitch, Go.

On that note, You guys are seriously Fighting 24/7. There wasn't a day wherein the both of you didn't fight. He even called you ugly when you were a newborn baby. The auDaCiTy...

Mother gave up on Easing the fight. Its just not worth her time anymore. Too tired of the same bullsh*t everyday.

Once the both of you are outside, A Beautiful facade is shown. The smile you gave to each other and Giggles while talking on your way to school would make the passerbys think that the both of you were simply having some sweet sibling moments.

When IN FACT. You guys were arguing who gets to play tonights Ps4.

Curses and Inappropriate words were heard from the both of you, although none of the people passing by could hear it because it was so faint.

The fact that both of you were smiling while arguing like mad dogs is insane. I congratulate you.

"Oi, How stupid can you be? Can't you see that it's my turn on the Ps4 LATER?"

His hostile tone is something to make you furrow your eyebrows.

'This crazy small piece of sht.'

You thought as you smiled widely.

"This damn brother of mine is too old to know that It was my turn today. How pitiful it is to be old, Ah~ its okay Being forgetful, But In that age of yours, I think You should worry about your height more."

You said still on your sweet smile while your brother was about to snap, His height was something you shouldn't have mentioned perhaps..?

"Hah? Are you forgetting Your height Y/n? You're smaller than me, How could a bratty little beansprout like you have the right to judge my fucking height?"

His eyes are somewhat turning of a glare, this facade of yours is now breaking. And the walk to school is about to end as You can see the gate from afar.

"Hm? Don't mind my height, Girls are usually shorter anyway, So I clearly DONT.MIND.IT— but dear Brother~ Men have a different standard on heights, I was simply bringing it up and I didn't think it would hurt you this much, huhu~ My apologies. "

You said clearly in a sarcastic tone, Making you run your way up to the school when you noticed he stopped walking.

'Crap.. gotta run fast'

You said to yourself as you ran at full speed, Only to look back to see your dear brother running after you with a glare, Making You try to run faster.

"Hah?! Oi! You dipshit! Get back here!"

You heard him scream furiously, Making you look back and laugh awkwardly.

" haha...Brother, Who in the world is an idiot that would Stop running if you're holding a fucking knife??"

You

A Gentle guy here.

He's definitely the best brother. Literally.

Calm and Cool unlike the other one up there.

He loves to sing, Making your day always twice the better.

Not to mention, he can also play the guitar and other instruments.

Everyday is a day full of melody whenever you're with him.

He sometimes would recite poems and haiku out of nowhere, Making you stuck on it for hours till you finally get what it means.

Embracing nature is his favorite. He would often ask you if You want to come with him to visit a park nearby.

He is so elegant to the point wherein You sometimes question yourself If you are both really siblings.

His soft side is one thing, But You did once saw his bad side when a person tried to do something malicious towards you. You heard how His once soft and Calm voice somehow turned into a whisper of a grim reaper who would mercilessly take lives..

He is over protective. Periodt.

He doesn't want any bugs around you.

And Whenever you're down or in a bad mood, He would always come to you and ask in a very VERY soft tone.

"Y/n... would you Mind if you share with me of what is troubling you? Hm.. I may not be of much help, But I certainly would do my best."

A very soft smile is pasted on his face and his angelic voice is heard enough to make that anger inside you to disappear like a trace of smoke. You hesitated but gave a sigh and looked at your brother .

"You see.. there is this classmate of mine... I didn't do anything to him yet He makes fun of me out of nowhere. To the point that I'm irritated with it."

You said in a voice clearly Tired of what you were having trouble on. You felt a warm hand on your head, making you look at your brother Who obviously is concerned.

"Although, My friends did say that Maybe he just liked me and was simply seeking for attention. Which I don't clearly believed cause who would do that?"

You rolled your eyes and sigh once again. You noticed how The concerned look your brother had disappeared in an instant.

"Y/n, do you find him Troublesome?"

He simply asked as he smiled like usual.

"Of course, I do! I find Him annoying too! How he would play with my hair and touch my stuff! Ugh~ Just even remembering him makes my blood boil!"

You vented out while your brother giggled.

"My, my, Don't be like that, There is no reason for someone like him to stay on your mind y/n. People always do unnecessary things to get something they surely won't have, And I do too feel that It is wrong of him to touch your belongings, but Being grumpy won't do you any good so Its better to forget about him, So.. Why don't you eat some ice cream on the fridge, Its your favorite flavor after all. Let us ease your anger, shall we?"

Your brother kazuha Said as he patted your head softly making you nod in excitement.

"really?? If that is the case Then I'll be going first.... -ah! I forgot to tell you this.. "

You stopped and looked at your brother who looked at you confused.

" thank you for listening to me. "

You said as you head out of the room leaving kazuha alone. He smiled widely agreeing that his sister is the cutest and kindest in the world.

After a while ,The bright smile faded and a dark demeanor filled him.

"Yes....Its better to forget about him y/n... "

He smiled widely as if Trains of wonderful ideas are coming straight to his head.

Days had passed since you told your brother about that guy and you clearly noticed how different it is after you told your brother about it. Days are now back to being peaceful. You even wondered if Your brother is secretly a saint.

...

'hmm...? That guy is not showing up to bully me today either, or Do I even see him around the campus... '

You sigh in relief. As you thought that The guy finally gave up on you when in fact it's not.

[sincelastsession]

I got a 52.14 on the test. I'm upset.

Can we do the test in session together?

Should I do it again another day at a different time?

It was incredibly hard and there were several questions that like I answered but I experience those things differently but im not sure if that means the same thing.

I see that it says "Very high scores do not necessarily mean a more severe dissociative disorder is present, this is because the scale measures both normal and pathological dissociation"

It scares me because I don't want to be treated differently or like I'm a crazy person. Like had too many diagnosis that I don't even have my autism on my chart because my psych knew I'd get treated like a looney tune in the south because of the propensity of southerners to just well I'm sure you know that history.

Like it makes me sick that mentally ill people don't get treated like they need from the people who are supposed to love them. Why have kids if you only want to see them as an extension of yourself? They're little souls little individuals and people crush that and I hate it so much. It's like a family tree of rot when this continues from generation to generation.

Also my neighbors woke me up and I reported it and I'm super pissed off still but luckily Matt was up and I decided to smoke to get sleepy and he admitted to be drinking but we had the most lovely conversation and then got very cringe stupid cute and spent like 30 minutes going back and forth. I really just haven't had a connection like I do with my partner. The long distance doesn't matter to me. We're both getting things out if this and it's sorta terrifying. Yeah sometimes I'm a mess and he's a mess but I'm happy. I'm scared it will fall apart though. I'm scared it's not real but everything is there. It's real. He doesn't care that I'm big he says, he likes big women he says...I hate how society and beauty standards fuck with my head. I love that I think he truly means it though not as a fetish but as just me. If I have another partner they will have to be like him or better and respect my relationship. I'd love to fit my ex in the puzzle here. I don't think it's ever going to be possible though. I'd also like to date Ashley but he's not poly and I'm not wanting to be an asshole and push him because being monogamous is fine too. I'm ambiamorous myself so I get it.

I mean I know I'm stoned but my heart us full and it's not like I wouldn't feel differently sober. My inhibitions are just at what I should be normally minus the "high" This happens when I have drunks too. I feel like I'm free from brain jail. I really wish I was on a "no fucks to give about things I cannot control dose of my anxiety med. I fuckin miss that. I wish just for a month my psych would up my dose at least 1mg. I feel it would help. The medical board is a joke imo. Some people need meds that are unconventional to prescribe. Actually 10yrs ago it wouldn't be a big deal. Now everything us and people are dying more because they're using street drugs because doctors can't monitor them and prescribe them anything to help because there's just not enough mental Healthcare like that that's affordable and don'tget me started on pharmaceutical companies. It's just bullshit.

[captainxsassafras]

Amren is my favorite because she doesn't baby full grown adult people.

Beautiful.

I could write so much more and, as much as I like Rhys' character and adore Feyre and love Azriel, the way they treat Elain... Irritates the ever-loving fuck out of me.

Like, when she was first adjusting to like as a fae, fine. Let her have her time and her space. We love it when people get time to heal.

But good fucking whoop, she's doing well. She's got her own thing going on, she's adjusting nicely to her new life and gardening the shit out of those fae gardens.

She's a goddamn adult.

Treating Nests like a shitty little gremlin (I'm talking before she was actually acting like a shitty little gremlin (affectionate)) for their childhood and how they treated Feyre, but treating Elain like poor baby boo-boo who could never do anything wrong (I'm sorry, but didn't she and Nests both sit back while spending the money whole Feyre worked her ass off?) and must be protected from the big scawy darkness of the world while not giving a goddamn single shit about what Nesta is exposed to.

Guys, guys. C'mon. You've got to hold people, including baby booboo Elain, accountable (I am taking about the characters holding other characters accountable. I am not talking about real live people talking character A to fantasy court and doling out imaginary justice). You can't just sit there and unconditionally forgive and protect Elain, while shitting on Nesta and throwing her to the magical metaphorical wolves for the EXACT SAME BEHAVIOR.

And if your explanation is: Well, it's Elain. You can't not forgive uwu baby Elain.....

No.

No.

And no.

And to be clear: this is not Elain slander. I'm actually really happy she's adjusting and finding her own place! I'd love it if she got a therapist, but I'd love it if everyone got a therapist. This isn't a critique of Elain, but of the double standards people have toward Elain and Nesta that are driving me crazy. This also isn't Nesta slander. Like, yep, for sure she's being an absolute dumb asshole at the beginning of the book. She's not blameless and she's not a particularly pleasant bunch of roses and she's really not handling her trauma basket well. But the way people treat Nests vs Elain is sending me though a goddamn roof. The double standard is so stupid.

And the constant babyfication of Elain. Goddamn. The 'she's so cute I'd forgive her for anything' is not where it's at.

[fourfucksake]

let it snow

request: Can you do something with Chris sleeping with a friend? Maybe she comes and stays over and it snowed to hard for her to leave. They watch a movie and drink a little and it leads to rough sex on the couch?

pairing: chris evans x fem!black!reader

warnings: language, smut

word count: 2k

p.s i’m sorry for being inactive! i’m fine, just lazy

Visiting Chris right before Christmas was a tradition that we both shared for a long time. A few years ago, we met while filming a movie together, and our friendship blossomed very quickly. Being casted for that movie was my first role ever; back then, the show-biz, “the” Hollywood was truly one big puzzle that I had to solve on my own. The role I had wasn’t big nor significant, but it meant everything to me. The memories from those filming days were so close to my heart. Not to mention the friendship I built with Chris Evans that was also very dear to myself.

In that movie, I played the girl Chris slept with several times and at the end she finally got him to solve a mystery which led to a plot twist. Despite this description, the role wasn’t really that big, and I only had like three scenes where my character was somehow important. As imagined, all the sex talks we had as our characters were the start of me developing crush on him. Yes, I adored him as a fan for years but after that once scene where we almost kissed (and had to reshoot it way too many times) made me go crazy over him. It was downright embarrassing that literally no man that I have ever slept with made me as turned on as Chris did by almost kissing me.

“Chris!” I yelled while greeting him, giving his body a warm hug. His huge arms wrapped around me always gave me the snuggest feeling inside, I loved the smallest touch of his affection on myself. A loud laugh left my lips as he picked me up, completely erasing the distance between us. I gave him a small peck on a cheek before my feet were back again on the ground. “No Dodger?” I asked out of curiosity after not being able to spot one of my favourite creatures. “Nope, not today. He is with Scott, I left him there since I only came to this house for a couple of days before going back to my brother’s. Didn’t want to move him around like that, you know?” He explained as he rested his shoulder on the doorframe while I undressed from the heavy winter clothing. I hanged my big, fluffy coat and took my boots off before we entered his big living room.

Our “Christmas Dinner” was filled with laughs and banter. I almost forgot how amusing Chris really was, he always did everything to make the other person laugh out loud. Being with him was always great fun and however horrible that sounds I was ecstatic when the snowfall outside transformed into an apocalypse. Of course, I pretended that I really need to head back home, and nothing will stop me, but Chris refused to let me leave in this weather. After twenty minutes of going back and forth in argument, I gave up. He seemed pleased which was a relief because I would’ve hated feeling like I’m not wanted.

Chris made us both a cup of hot chocolate as we continued to talk. We made a promise regarding Christmas gift, swearing on each other’s lives that they will only be unwrapped on an actual Christmas Day. Still, I had a feeling he will open his as soon as I leave through that door. My eyes rolled as he deliberated about how his gift was surely better than mine, Tired of his annoying whimpers, I picked a TV remote and started looking through films on Disney+. “This will shut you up for like an hour or, at least I hope so,” I said with a silly face and showed him the middle finger as he laughed in response.

Focusing on the TV screen, I tried not to think about different, erotic scenarios of the both of us. His presence near me was enough to make my thoughts livid. His hand was placed on my knee, which I could not stop thinking about, no matter how hard I tried to. If Chris knew what my dirty thoughts were including him in, he would most likely show me where the door is. Or, possibly, throw me out of the window. I couldn't help but stress in his presence. It was simply not possible not to. When I thought I could control myself around him, he would start stroking my thigh, driving my consciousness crazy. He could sense that I was nervous, or at least I thought that he could, because he looked at me with his bug puppy eyes. He said nothing, just stared in the bluntest way possible. I returned the stare, unable to form words that would make any sense.

Gazing into my eyes, he positioned his hand on my cheek. Involuntarily, a familiar shiver ran through my entire body. Ugh, he was perfect, and I hated him for it. I just knew I was not the only girl to feel this way about him. You didn’t have to know him to lust over his self. I opened my lips as he began to approach me, getting closer to my face with every millisecond. Our lips finally joined in a passionate kiss. My hand quickly rested on top of his, caressing the skin on his fingers which were placed on my face. My hormones were screaming and in a spare of the moment, (and inflow of confidence) I moved onto his laps and sat on them straddling. I took over the situation with dominance, but Chris quickly took it back when he put his hands on my ass and lifted me up to lay myself on my back on the couch.

“I wanted to do this for so long, you have no idea,” He whispered right into my lips as his hand slipped under the fabric of my sweatshirt. A long, drawn-out moan escaped my mouth as his lips found their way to the skin on my neck. I was panting hard with my mouth open. One of my hands landed between the locks of his hair that I pulled on. I cursed softly under my breath as his fingers tightened on my hip and then moved to my breasts that were still covered by the fabric of my top and lace bra.

“So damn beautiful.”  His words sounded like a tune to my ears. Now, I could confirm that no compliments sounded better than those formed by Mr. Chris Evans himself. His fingers sneaked into my private part once again as they slipped under my leggings. I consciously and willingly let them do so. I was already excited, maybe even more than I wanted to admit. Rarely has a man managed to bring me to this state by not doing anything special, but Chris definitely did.

My mind was full of thoughts concerning what we were doing in this very moment. Has he already done this with some other naive aspiring actress? Am I just another name on his long list waiting to be crossed out? My morals and standards, and more importantly, my substantial self-respect were all screaming at me right about now. Unfortunately, my thirst and excitement won the arguments inside my head. “Chris, p-please,” I whispered and desperately pulled the hair at the top of his head. “F-Fuck me,” My lips finally formed a dreadful plea for more.

Chris didn't wait any longer, as if I gave him an order that he had to obey. He quickly deprived my body of all of its clothing, his hungry gaze followed my flesh this whole time. He was discovering every inch of my skin for the first time, concentrating on it as if he wanted to remember every single detail. I did not want to do any worse than him, therefore my hands also started a fight with his clothes, aggressively removing them from his body.

“Condom, I need-“ He mumbled inexplicably, the second part of his sentence was most certainly inaudible but at least I understood what he started looking for from its first part. I watched him out as his fingers grabbed the fabric of his pants. He reached out to the pocket, grabbing a silver wrapper between his two fingers, and I stared at it with a rather surprised look. He was prepared for this and I let him. He knew or at least he wanted this to happen. And I let him. Stupid girl.

My eyes followed him precisely as he returned to me. His knees settled on the couch and I opened my own wide for him to view. I licked my two fingers slowly before directing them to my pussy, slowly caressing and massaging it. Chris was watching me this whole time and his gaze was getting more and more hungry which undoubtedly stimulated all my senses.

Our eyes reconnected and we both smiled at each other at the same time. I licked my lips as I watched the rubber material slide smoothly over his swollen cock. He got closer to me and hit my entrance with his dick several times which was met with a loud moan escaping my lips. I was seconds away from begging him to push inside of me, but my needs were met with his sudden actions. Satisfied was an understatement as I felt his impressive length penetrating my inside.

From the first thrust, his hips moved quickly, with force. I felt him whole, from his core to his round tip. I felt his body pressing onto mine as his balls slapped my flesh with each movement. I tilted my head back and gasped like a wounded animal. My hand blindly travelled to his muscular torso, digging my long nails into his skin. He hissed in response, but his movements became faster, only adding extra pleasure to my private part. I felt my insides pulsing in response to his dick slamming onto me.  

Chris grabbed my leg under the calf and placed my heel on his shoulder. I took advantage of this placement and stretched my leg at the knee as I placed it as comfortably as possible on his shoulder. My hand rested on my boob, which I squeezed, and his eyes rested on the new image in front of him. We didn't exchange a single word, but we both gave each other the right glances that boldly approved of every move on our part.

Feeling ecstatic to say the least, I enjoyed every moment. I needed this. I needed to forget about the world, cool my abusive emotions and relish this quick experience. He gave me precisely what I craved. Moreover, I was confident he adored it just as much, which I saw from the droplets of sweat running down his forehead and from his plump lips producing multiple curse words as his body moved within me. His chest rose quickly and fell rapidly with each hard thrust. I rolled my eyes in pleasure, unable to help myself. I was so close to the orgasm that the man of my dreams was driving me to.

Feeling his warmth inside of me made me toes curl. This was so fucking good. I could confidently say that he too enjoyed himself, which the droplets of sweat running down his forehead and a bunch of swear words escaping his plump lips indicated. His chest rose and fell quickly with each hard thrust. Unable to help themselves, my eyes rolled in great pleasure. My breathing was rapid and unsteady as he drove me to a needed orgasm. I couldn’t feel his cum inside of me but his moans and pleads ensured me of his sweet release.

We looked at each other’s eyes when our breathing finally normalized from all that we have done right on that poor couch. Thankfully, I sensed no strange atmosphere in the air that could foreshadow the end of our friendship. Everything seemed so normal, so platonic and I felt an unimaginable sense of relief. “Round two?” He scanned my face with a smirk placed on his lips and flames in his eyes. I smiled in response because no words were needed to answer his question. My legs wrapped around his hips once again, his posture bent down in order to link our lips in a kiss, indicating a fresh start to our next game.

[shingia]

Hello!!! I love ur fics sm 😭💖 This is weirdly specific and been plaguing my mind for days,,, Can I req an angsty fic where Atsumu broke up with the reader because he wants to chase his dreams and ultimately leaves but with the reader saying "I'll wait" . A few months later he seeks for the reader again and finds out the reader has terminal illness and is dying. You can decide if there's major character death or a miracle,,,, please and thank u so much!!

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐨 - 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

aw thank youuuu <33 and also WOW this request is in-tense, i modified the ‘terminal illness’ part a little bit for plot convenience, but i rly hope you’re gonna like it ! i am : stressed. also, i’m a sucker for happy endings (just ignore my last bokuto fic) so i couldn’t go full angst on that one 😅

quick storytime : my great grandpa died from heartbreak and i always thought it was a beautiful (yet very sad) way to die, so i guess that’s where i got my inspiration from <3

⤷  atsumu x gn!reader | angst | word count : 1.7K

warnings : hospital environment, heart condition, mild description of ‘illness’ and mentions of death (a little)

your first kiss with miya atsumu had been sloppy, dizzy, with a strong scent of rum and smudged lip balm all over your lips. but there was no doubt that it had been the best kiss of your entire lives…

…just like your last had been the worst. 

two months later, atsumu still couldn’t forget the salty taste of your lips that begged him not to leave. if he focused hard enough, he could even remember the feeling of your hands desperately clinging to his jacket in a last attempt at making him stay by your side.

but he didn’t, and as much as he hated himself for putting an end - even temporary - to what had been the most beautiful chapter of his life, he had never regretted his decision ; and he knew exactly why. you had promised to wait for him, and in pure egoism, he knew and hoped that you would. because no matter the distance, he was still madly in love with you.

which is why he did not understand why osamu was so outraged when he told him that he was finally ready to come back to you. but the younger twin knew things that his brother didn’t - he had seen you let yourself waste away, like nothing else mattered without the one you loved.

but more than that, atsumu did not know about the secret his brother promised to keep. he did not know that, two weeks ago, osamu had found you unconscious in your living room with an alarmingly slow heartbeat. the poor boy had not understood everything the doctors had told him - but whatever a cardiogenic shock was, he knew that it would have carried you off if without his intervention.

however, you had been categorical : atsumu shouldn’t not know about this, under any pretext. you refused to be a burden to the pursuit of his dreams for which he had already sacrificed so much for. but now that atsumu was back, something about this promise didn’t sit right with his brother. and so he decided to tell him everything.

« …most doctors thought about a standard heart attack » he told him after explaining the situation, on the lookout for any impulsive reaction from his brother. « … but one of them talked about something else. you might want to sit down ».

but atsumu couldn’t care less about his brother’s advice. actually, he didn’t care about anything else than you right now. it was already taking a lot of effort for him to stand there listening to samu instead of being on his way to the hospital - but he stayed. for an obscure reason that he didn’t really understand, he stayed.

« did you know that people can die of heartbreak ? » osamu asked, more serious than he had ever been in his whole life. 

the blonde twin felt like the ground had suddenly swallowed him whole - although his brother was trying his best not to sound too accusating, it was more than obvious that whatever situation you were in was because of him. and only him.

« no they can’t » he tried to protest, not even believing in his own words. panic was beginning to win him over - and in a matter of seconds, he lost all his composure « WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NOT MOVING ? LET’S GO ! » he shouted, already opening the front door. at that moment, one question burned his lips, but he knew he would never have the guts to ask it out loud. 

‘did i kill them ?’

——

the steady beeps of all the machines around you were the only thing disrupting the deafening silence of your hospital room. you were sick of spending your days alone. but you had no right to complain, osamu had offered to come and see you after work every day, but you had politely refused. well, politely was a big word… your body was so exhausted that you had trouble articulating simple phrases, and therefore exclusively communicated through nods or hand gestures.

your phone had been confiscated and the doctors kept you away from the news - or at least from the negative news, because they knew that your heart might give out at the tiniest emotional distress.

which is why you were so surprised to hear a knock on your door at about 3pm, outside of the nurses’ shift hours. knowing that you were too weak to talk, osamu let himself in, slowly closing the door behind him before coming closer to your bed.

« how are you doing ? » he asked, resting his hands on the other end of the bed. you shrugged, pointing at the IV and all the monitoring surrounding you. as long as these machines were there, it was hard to feel better than just ok. « listen, um… someone is here for you. the doctors said i could bring him in, but i wanted your authorization first… » he started before clearing his throat. « atsumu is back. do you- are you ready to see him ? ».

ready was probably not an appropriated word. but after two months spent pretending that he was still laying next to you in bed every night, still texting you good morning every day, still sending you the dumbest memes at the most random times, it would have been a huge mistake to refuse osamu’s proposition.

and so he let him in. obviously, atsumu had orders from the doctors and his brother : don’t run, don’t move too fast, don’t speak too soon, don’t touch them without warning. but nobody had asked him not to cry. and how could his eyes stay dry when you looked so fragile and so vulnerable ?

osamu quietly left the room, leaving the two of you together not without apprehension. but if there was one thing he could trust his brother on, it was taking care of you. two months could not have gotten the better of four years of relationship.

but as much as he cared about you, atsumu had always been - and still was - pretty bad with words. and the first ones that left his mouth were a great example. « are you going to die ? » he asked in a shaky voice, brows knitted.

you would have given him an answer if you had one, but you didn’t. the doctors said that you had gone through the most painful part, but the risks of aggravations were still too important to let you go home. you were not 100% safe yet.

« i told you i’d wait » you spoke in a hoarse voice, the beep of your heart monitor getting a little bit faster.

the steps atsumu took towards you were slow, like he had been told, but just one glance at his eyes was enough to know that deep down, he was dying to feel your skin against his.

« i know you probably hate me right now. and for good reasons » he started as he sat on the chair next to your bed, still painfully avoiding any contact. « but there’s something i need to tell you, in case… in case… well, if something were to happen ».

his eyes lingered on your fingertips, blue and cold, and his whole body tensed at once. the thought that everything you were going through had been caused by his own selfishness was driving him crazy. but he had one last thing to keep himself grounded, and that thing was exactly what he was about to tell you.

« i love you. but i caused you so much trouble that i think there’s only one way to prove it… » he said, taking a deep breath before finally resting a timid hand on your arm. « i want to marry you. right now. i don’t fucking care if it’s not considered official, i just want you to know that leaving you was probably the biggest mistake i ever did. and that i’m not leaving ever again. so fuck it, let’s get married ! you almost died, life’s too short to plan a stupid ceremony ».

he stopped for a few seconds, panting from his teary monologue and paying attention to any beep or other sound that might indicate that he had made things worse for you. but it seemed like you were doing ok. how could you not be ? the love of your life had just proposed to you - sure, it wasn’t how you had imagined it, but wasn’t it even more beautiful like that ?

the tears that started rolling down your cheeks were undoubtedly tears of happiness and relief to know that, finally, your life was back to normal. atsumu was your normality, and for the first time in two months, you finally felt like you had a purpose. you had no idea if soulmates existed, but what you had with atsumu seemed more than close enough.

if someone had entered the room at that moment, it’d probably have taken them several minutes to understand what was going on. two young adults, crying yet smiling, one of them laying on a hospital bed looking like they had been through hell and back, and the other tearing off two pieces of his t-shirt and looking genuinely proud of himself -  nothing about this made sense.

« my apologies, it was the easiest way to make us rings » atsumu chuckled, eyes still blurry as grabbed your hand in his with infinite tenderness. slowly, he tied the piece of cloth around your ring finger, loosely enough so that the doctors would not consider it dangerous for your blood circulation.

« i’m keeping that until you’re getting out of here. by my side. » he affirmed, pointing at his own makeshift ring before looking right into your eyes, as serious as ever. « and i’m also keeping you. forever. consider this my wedding vows »

as much as he hated to phrase it like that, you could both die in peace now.

i spent so much time on medical sites to be as accurate as i could, i felt like meredith mf grey for a few hours

@toworuu @catwithangerissues

[winterrose527]

Prompt: Person A backs into Person B’s car.

Truly adored this one. Here you go, my love!

****

He was really starting to hate King’s Landing.

It wasn’t that he’d ever liked it. Even when they’d come to the capital for their eighth grade class trip, he and Jon couldn’t quite understand why anyone would want to live here.

And now, he did.

Well he didn’t want to but he did live here. He had for about two months. His family company was expanding and as the heir apparent he was in charge of opening the new office, a soft launch for his future as its leader.

With that in mind, he’d gone with very little argument. It wasn’t that there weren’t good reasons. It had given him a convenient excuse to get out of a relationship that had run its course without hurting anyone’s feelings, he was getting to build a team from the ground up, and he’d even gotten a pretty great apartment close to the beach.

Not that he could go anytime other than at night because it was too hot. And even with the salt air it still smelled like garbage.

None of that was anything compared to the people. This city was like a magnet for selfish, aspirational, people with non-existent moral compasses. And not only that, but there were a lot of them.

Which led to his least favorite thing about King’s Landing: the traffic.

It felt like he lost hours of his day to traffic. He would have taken the subway, but the line that would have taken directly from his doorstep to his office (the exact reason he’d chosen the apartment) was under emergency construction, because of course it was.

The light was green and yet the car in front of him wasn’t moving. He looked and saw that the driver was – is she plucking her eyebrows?

King’s Landing had turned him into something he hated. Robb Stark was officially a honker now.

“MOVE!” he yelled, even though his windows were up as he lay on his horn.

As though he was inconveniencing her, she made a big show of stopping what she was doing and started to drive. He went to place his foot on the gas and -bam.

“What the fuck?” he asked the general world.

A gold – yes gold – convertible had just backed up into his SUV.

He got out of the car, ready to let this person bear the brunt of every bit of frustration he’d been feeling for the past two months.

“Are you alright?” a voice asked as soon as his door closed, it was getting closer as they came around his car, “I am so sorry!”

“Yeah well –“ he started and then stopped. “I…uh… are you okay?”

It wasn’t exactly what he had planned on saying but he also hadn’t planned on the person who hit him being the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.

She shook her head, slender fingers brushing back naturally golden hair (after two months here he could spot the difference), “I’m fine, I am just so embarrassed. And sorry. Is your car damaged?”

“Um, I don’t know,” he admitted, realizing he should have been thinking about that rather than wondering how her legs could seemingly go on for miles though she would hardly make it up to his shoulder. He started walking towards her and she turned and lead him around his car. And then bent over. “Looks good to me.”

“Thank the gods,” she said with a hand to her chest, straightening up and peering over at him, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He nodded, “It was just a little love tap.” Her eyes widened and he blushed, “What a stupid fucking thing to say, huh?”

She laughed, “Original, though.” Then held out her hand, “I’m Myrcella Baratheon.”

He shook her small one, and introduced himself, “Robb Stark. Can I ask you something?” She nodded, her hand still in hers, “What is a girl like you doing with a car like this?”

This girl was all class. Her structured white shorts and silk button down, fresh face, pale nails as opposed to the garish red pointed ones so many women down here wore.

The car was decidedly not.

“It’s not mine,” she told him and his stomach clenched, wondering if it belonged to a boyfriend that was clearly in no way good enough for her. “It’s my older brother’s. He’s… the actual worst.” He opened his mouth and she smiled, taking her hand up and holding it up in front of her, “The worst. Look at his license plate.”

He glanced at it and saw that it read KING JOFF.

He laughed, “It hurts.”

“Hey Robb, I know I just rear ended you and all, but can I show you something?” she asked.

Anything he might of said. Instead he just nodded.

She turned and walked down the length of the car and he followed her and then she pointed at the rearview mirror.

“Do I need to see a neurologist or is that not a mirror?” she asked.

He leaned over and his jaw dropped, “That is not a mirror… I think it’s some sort of…mosaic? And definitely not legal. You could have taken out the whole city with this thing.”

“Thank the gods, I thought I was going crazy, it’s just that my car is in the shop-,” he smirked at her and she rolled her eyes and smiled, self-deprecatingly, “For a standard tune up. I should have known there would be a catch when he offered to let me borrow this one.”

“Yeah I don’t recommend you drive this thing,” he told her, then asked stupidly, “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

He watched as a blush rose on her cheeks and she demurred, “That’s alright. I can’t inconvenience you anymore than I already have. Thank you, though.”

He nodded, because he did have a meeting he was supposed to be at in about ten minutes.

“Well… could I maybe have your number?” he asked.

She nodded immediately, “Yes, of course, I won’t be on his insurance so please just get a quote and send me whatever it is. I’ll make it right.”

“Oh,” he shook his head, realizing that while that was the normal reason to have asked the woman who just rear ended you for her number it was absolutely not something that had even occurred to him. “No that was actually my way of asking you out.”

A smile landed on her face so quickly that it brought one to his own.

“You’re asking me out?” she asked.

“Trying to,” he agreed.

She crossed her arms over her chest, thinking something over and asked, “And what if this was my car?”

“Um,” he laughed as he thought about it, “Well I’d still ask you out. I would just never ever agree to drive anywhere with you in it.”

She giggled, and then informed him in a stage-whisper, “I drive a hybrid.”

“Family dinners must be interesting,” he teased.

“Oh you have no idea,” she smiled.

“I’d like to,” he told her.

She grinned again and then knocked a pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses off of her head and onto her nose, “You know, you’re a lot smoother than the last guy I rear ended.” He opened his mouth and she told him, “Kidding.Do you have your phone?”

He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her. She typed her number in and then handed the phone back to him.

“Are you going to be alright getting this back in there?” he asked, gesturing to what looked to be a private garage.

She nodded, “Thankfully he didn’t cover the windshield in crystals.”

He chuckled, “No because that would be tacky. Well get home safe, Myrcella Baratheon. I’ll call you soon.”

She gave him a heart stopping grin and then opened her door and eased into the driver’s seat. He went around his car and got back in, easing back into traffic.

Thankfully it was fairly light the rest of the way so he was only a little bit late for his meeting.

It was a busy day, some final interviews that people had wanted him to take part in, some calls with his Dad and Jon up north. So it wasn’t until later, as he walked the beach still in his suit, his shoes off and the sand beneath his feet, that he had a chance to call her.

He scrolled through to M, but Mom was the last entry.

“Was it Marcella?” he asked the sea.

He scrolled up just to be sure, but the only Marcella in his phone was a girl he’d met on a vacation in the Summer Isles. He deleted the contact because he hadn’t spoken to her in a full five years.

No girl had ever not given him her number before. He knew that it happened, it just hadn’t ever happened to him. There weren’t many that he asked for, and only when he felt something that seemed reciprocated. And though they’d only had a limited conversation, it seemed like they had.

She’d been so sweet and sorry and cute, pointing out her brother-

He scrolled up to the Ks and would have laughed if he wasn’t so busy sighing in relief when he saw King Joff waiting for him.

Without hesitating he pressed call and listened as it rang once, twice.

“Hello?” a soft voice asked.

“I’m uh, looking to speak to the king,” he greeted her.

Her giggle filled his ear, “Don’t even mention him I am in SUCH trouble. How are you Robb Stark?”

“I’m better now that I found your number, two scares in one day? Is this what it’s going to be like with you?” he asked.

“I’m free tomorrow night,” she informed him, “Want to find out?”

***

Two months later…

“And of course,” he sighed as he slowed down behind a bright yellow SUV.

“I would think you’d be used to the traffic by now and besides,” Myrcella noted at his side, “I would have thought you’d be fine being late for dinner with my family.”

“Your mother already hates me enough,” he pointed out, “I can’t afford to be late on top of being northern, being a man, being unrelated to you, being sexually attracted to you, being liberal, being alive…”

The light had turned green and yet the cars in front of him hadn’t moved. He went to go honk his horn but Myrcella grabbed his hand before he could.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hello,” he returned.

“Do you know what’s nice about traffic?” she asked. He raised his brow and she smiled, “I get to do this.”

With that she leaned in and kissed his lips softly. He kissed her back less so, his fingers carding into her hair as she opened her mouth to his.

Cars had started honking all around him, but in that moment he didn’t care.

He was really starting to love King’s Landing.

[anxiousstark]

S1 01 | The Tell

MASTERLIST

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 2159

Warnings: Injuries, blood, swearing (always).

This chapter will be in 3rd point of view as it is the first one and introduction.

↪ Please respect my work. Don’t copy, translate or claim them as yours. Not on this website or another. All Rights Are Reserved. Otherwise, legal actions will be taken.

"What?" Scott stared at his mother. His eyes were full of pain, anger, and confusion. "I don't understand anything. Are you crazy!?" The tone of his voice was gathering strength. Stiles flinched knowing that Ms. McCall had a remarkably bad temper. He couldn't believe that his friend had spoken to his mom like that. "Mom, do you understand?" His hands grasped his dark hair. "This is crazy."

Melissa McCall rubbed her forehead. "Scott, I can't stay home and argue with you right now. I have to go to work." She grabbed her coat and car keys. "We will talk tonight." She looked at Stiles. "Alone."

Stiles placed a hand on his chest as he felt wounded by Melissa's words when he saw her exit the McCall house. "Did you hear that?" He pouted. "She has known me since I was in diapers." He instantly lost his pout and threw himself on the couch, sighing. "You didn't tell me you had a sister! I can't believe you ARE my friend."

"She is not my sister." Scott sat down next to Stiles, his anger bubbling up even more than before.

"Even if you don't like it, she is your sister." He looked at his friend. "Oh my god, imagine her being just like you. It is already hard having to hear you complain. What about another McCall??" The hazel-eyed boy took gum out of his pocket, placing it inside of his mouth and chewing loudly. "So when are we going to meet her?"

"She isn't my sister, okay?" Scott got up from the couch, trying to calm himself while his fists were tightly clenched. "We just have the same stupid father who ran away and who didn't take care of any of us. We just have the same sperm donor."

The other boy chuckled. "Which makes you two siblings. You are her half-brother and she is your half-sister." He made a bubble with the gum, his eyes concentrating on it to the point where they ended up being crossed. "Who do you think is the evil one of you?" He referred to all the films he had watched where there was always an evil sibling.

"I can stay with you!" The girl answered while she tried to hide how her voice was cracking. She was terrified of what she didn't know. She was scared of the unknown. Beacon Hills was unknown to her.

The woman that was driving sighed. Her dark hair was now enhanced by grey hair. "You know you can't. Your father still has your custody." The woman didn't let the teenager answer, knowing that she would get ironic and ask why her father wasn't doing his job as a father. He never did anyway.

"So the best option out there is for me to live with strangers who are my father's other family? Tell me, Miriam. Did he leave them to be with us? Or did he leave us to be with them? Oh wait, was he changing lives every week?"

The woman sighed, parking the car on one of the streets of Beacon Hills. "Y/N, please. I was also a stranger when you came to live with me." She smiled softly. The teenager deserved better. Her mother didn't act like one and left Y/N on Miriam's doorstep when she was 8 years old. Later than everyone thought. Nobody saw Y/N's mother capable of taking care of a child for eight years. But at the same time, she didn't take care of Y/N. The young girl took care of her mother.

"I just don't understand what's the purpose of all this."

"It's for you to be with your family." Her rust-colored eyes examined the teenager. She was almost a woman, a beautiful one that had taken care of herself since day one. "Look." She grabbed her cold hands. "Your mom did terrible stuff. I did too. How did you think we met?"

"But you changed. People change." She peered out of the window for a couple of seconds. "You can't compare what you did with what Alice did." She muttered. Alice was her mom, but she didn't deserve that title. "You never abandoned me. We don't share the same blood, but you took care of me." She tried to argue back.

"But taking care of you isn't my decision anymore. You are still a minor and your father is the one deciding over you." She rubbed their hands together, trying to warm Y/N's hands. "When you are old enough, you will be able to live wherever you want. You can even contact me and I will come for you if you want me to."

Y/N got out of the car, and she slowly moved to the back, taking her suitcase out of it. Maybe if she was slow, Miriam would change her mind and let her go with her. But it didn't seem like that would happen when she found herself waving at the car. It was disappearing down the road, leaving her in a strange town with only directions to Melissa Mccall's house.

On her way to her 'new' house, she saw a video club and her love for films didn't let her walk away from it without checking it out. A bell sounded when she opened the door, her hand still clutching her suitcase. She started looking around when she saw and heard the voice of a boy. "Can somebody help me find The Notebook?" He started looking around. "Hello? Is anybody working here? You gotta be kidding me."

Y/N thought that was rare. There was a phone ringing, and the place was quite dim.

The boy went closer to her. "Uhm, excuse me." She looked at him again, forgetting the films she was checking out. "Do you maybe know where in this whole place can I find The Notebook?"

"Are you asking me because I'm a girl?" She chuckled, making the boy smile a little. "Because I'm more into action movies and I'm new here so I can't help you." She glanced around, finally deciding that her suitcase was safe and she didn't have to grip it so hard. "It is strange that there is no one here though." Her eyes stopped behind the boy, seeing something on the ground.

Jackson turned around and then looked back at her. Both of them stared at each other quietly, without exchanging words. They slowly walked to whatever that was.

When they got closer, Y/N could tell that what she had noticed were shoes. When they cornered one of the shelves, there was a dead body. A man was laying on the floor, his eyes wide open and a terrified expression decorating his face. His neck looked like it had been sliced, and blood was coming out of it.

"Oh my god." The boy whispered, pushing a hand out so Y/N wouldn't walk closer to the dead man. But of course, she wasn't going to do that. No fucking way.

Jackson walked backwards. Y/N who was behind him was pushed against some stairs, making them fall. The stairs hit a lamp that seemed to be in the process of being repaired, making the light of the shop go out.

"Are you okay?" Jackson asked the girl.

"I'm not sure if I can be okay after seeing a dead body." She replied, not being able to take her eyes out of the body. "Are you?"

"I don't think I can be okay after seeing a dead body." He replied similarly.

Y/N wanted to chuckle, but she was sure that it wasn't the best moment to do so. They heard a vicious noise. Turning around, at the end of the corridor there were two shiny red eyes. It seemed like those eyes were examining both of them.

Jackson was petrified, gawking at whatever that monstrosity was. Y/N grasped his arm, pushing him behind a shelf, covering his mouth with her hand. "Don't scream, please." She whispered. But she was as scared as him. Maybe even more.

Without looking back, Y/N knew that thing was running around. She concluded that it was something quite big when the shelves fell in a domino motion, trapping her and Jackson under the shelf that they used to hide. The boy was luckier because only his legs were trapped, making it a little bit easier for him to escape when he felt strong enough, while Y/N's entire half body was trapped, making her hiss in pain.

Both of them heard the beast coming closer to them, breathing hard. She felt it scratch her neck, and she couldn't contain a wail of pain. It seemed like the boy had also been scratched when she heard him breathe even harder. Are there bears in Beacon Hills?

The next thing they heard was a window crash and a couple of minutes later, sirens.

Y/N was sitting in the back of an ambulance while Jackson was next to her, an arm around his girlfriend, Lydia Martin. She had learnt their names, but she wished that it would have been in another situation.

"Why the hell can't I just go home? I'm fine." Jackson asked desperately. She thought that he should have more respect towards the man, but at the same time, she was also desperate to leave that place.

"I hear ya, but the EMT says you hit your head pretty hard. They just wanna make sure you don't have a concussion." The sheriff replied. Y/N took her time to look at Lydia. She looked shocked, and Y/N was confused because Lydia wasn't inside the store. Did she see something?

"What part of 'I'm fine' are you having a problem grasping? Okay, I wanna go home." He got closer to the sheriff while the man answered more calmly.

Jackson began to raise his voice, and Y/N was going to tell him to shut the fuck up when she was interrupted. "Oh, whoa, is that a dead body?" She looked at the boy who had yelled but instantly, got distracted by a doctor who asked to look at her neck and take care of her wound. That was another thing she didn't understand.

Why didn't Jackson have a wound like her? She was sure that he had been scratched too.

"Starting to get it?"

A voice made Stiles jump around, seeing Derek and Scott behind him. "What the fuck! Oh gosh, I think I just peed my pants." He replied while placing his hand on his chest.

"Uh, I get that he's killing people, but I don't get why. I mean, this isn't standard practice, right? We don't go out in the middle of the night murdering everyone, do we?" Scott answered Derek while ignoring his friend. His eyes scanning everywhere, analyzing everything, and trying to understand the situation.

"No. We're predators. We don't have to be killers."

"Then why is he a killer?"

"That's what we're gonna find out." Derek hit Scott's arm, making him rub it. His pupils grew, looking over at one of the girls sitting in the back of the ambulance. "I will let you take care of her first."

Scott observed how Derek walked away and was confused by his last words. Stiles hit him in the same place where Derek had punched him before. Stiles was pointing at the girl's suitcase.

"It says McCall, on the suitcase." His friend let him know and that was when he noticed that one of the girls in the back of the ambulance he had never seen before. "I think that is your-sister-not-sister."

Scott ignored him and walked towards her, but he was stopped by Stiles’ father.

"Guys, you know you can't be here." He said, mostly looking at his son.

"Why is she here?" Scott asked while pointing at the girl.

The Sheriff sighed, deciding to give them a little information, hoping that they would feel satisfied and leave the crime scene. "She was inside. A minor concussion and a deep wound on the back of her neck."

"What type of wound?" Stiles asked. His father felt stupid for believing that his son would be satisfied with just a little information. "An animal wound?" Scott hit his ribs.

"Yes. We believe so." He looked at the girl. "She asked us if there were bears in Beacon Hills."

"Bears?" Both boys looked at each other.

"Seemed like a big beast. Jackson had said that he thought he saw claws, but she affirmed that she felt the claws on her neck." He coughed. "Now, go home." He referred to Scott. "And you, wait inside the car."

"Actually." Stiles decided to talk. "That is Scott's sister." The hazel-eyed boy decided to modify what he had said when he felt Scott's gaze on him. "Well, half-sister. You know. Same dad. Same sperm donor."

The sheriff stared at his son, not surprised by his attitude. Melissa had told him about the new McCall, so he let both boys get close to her.

.

.

TAGLIST: @og-baby-ob14 - @savemypostcards - @cas-loves-pizza - @used-avocado - @mvrylee - @bilesxbilinskixlahey - @honeydoll-stark - @arieltheworldisamess - @softpeteparker - @kit-kat-katie99​ - @thatsuperherosidekick - @bexbetterxthanxwords - @big-galaxy-chaos​ - @littlemiss-forgotten -

People in black means it doesn’t let me tag them.

[freebooter4ever]

anyway ive also been thinking about the pearl clutchers and their ‘but think of the children!’ claim that luca and alberto are too young for crushes, and i dunno about anybody else but i remember having crushes on boys as early as 10 yrs old. not that i TALKEd to boys, god forbid, i didnt want anything to do with them back then but it was like a requirement among my friend group that you had to have a ‘crush’, so i did. but i distinctly remember age 11 was the first time i became unknowingly infatuated with a girl who was a friend of mine, and how much of a disaster that was :/

i still remember her full name, partially because this was also when my mom (worked for that big M company up in seattle) first got the internet on our home computer, and i used this girl’s name plus my nickname for her for all my passwords (her name still WAS my ffnet password up until a few years ago LOL). we were not even that close of friends, i was just crazy about her. she was beautiful with dark hair and dark eyes and a very dry sarcastic humor. we had PE together in 6th grade, and her last name was right behind mine, so whenever our teacher would pair us up by names, she and i ended up together. this is the only reason i even met her, because i was a /nerd/ and was like...way beneath her in the pecking order. and for some reason after we became inseparable in PE she let me be her friend, and sometimes eat lunch with them, and omg i was over the moon. she was cool in the ‘alternative’ sense back then - so like, more into rock and 107.7 The End (is that still a thing?) than star 101.5 (pop music), and her friends were all the Cool Alternative girls (i was the nerdy side of alternative, you know the kind who taught herself how to write in elvish so no one could read my diary, and had LOTR memorized by age 11, but still listened to like the killers and scissor sisters). I was terribly jealous of one of them - her old ‘best friend’ from elementary school who hated the fact that i joined their group and would try to shove me out of it. life was much better in PE when it was just me and this girl (we can call her O), i did not give a shit about anybody else, lol. 

i had other friends, of course, right before summer started some girls i met in 6th grade chorus (Nuri, Abby, Jilly bean) and i did a ‘radio show’, wrote the script together and everything, and that bond accidentally turned us into a ‘best friends’ group (with my bff Lauren who i pulled in as an extra) of the more typical kind. the five of us even dressed up in identical outfits we bought at target for ‘twin day’. ive actually written about this real group of friends before. but those were my actual, bffs forever and ever friends, and that group lasted all the way through high school up until today...so like almost two decades now.

so what im saying is, my friendship with O was different, very very different, and i knew it was different, and that O didn’t care nearly as much about me as i did her. i tried sO HARd to be the person she wanted to be around the most, omg i remember some of the things i did and i cringe lol. 11 years old and stupid right? when it was just us things were normal and it felt like magic, and oh boy i could make her LAUGH. but then when her friends would come into the picture it was...not good. i remember the day i discovered that ‘normal’ girls shaved their legs :/ or god they used to call me ‘orange’ bc of my skin and foundation. i tried /so hard/ to live up to their standards but i always failed somehow, there were so many rules for being a Cool Girl that they seemed to know naturally. in 7th grade O and i got put into a new PE class with her old best friend, which was a DISASTER for me bc suddenly O was pairing up with the old best friend and i was left with this other girl who i was absolutely not enamored with, and one day during square dancing, when we were lining up boys-girls to pair off, and all the girls were trying to count and match themselves with the boys they liked, except they were bad at counting, and i could count better and since i didnt give a fuck about who i was partnered with as long as i was still in O’s ‘square’, i silently arranged it so that i got put with the most popular boy who also happened to be the old best friend’s crush. the old best friend was mad about that - she could have fixed it had she been smarter and saw it coming, but she was dumb and she didnt count properly and i danced with her crush, and she hated me ever after. it was at that point the friend started calling me orange and making fun of my clothes and trying to get O to stop hanging out with me. and she finally did after eighth grade when we all graduated to high school.

i have zero photos of O, i still look her up on insta occasionally, i dont think she’d even remember me tbh except maybe as the weird girl they kept around for entertainment value for a while, but im just saying that was ages 11-14 and those emotions and crush feelings were INTENSE and i didnt even realize what it was at the time, because of course you cant have crushes on girls, who does that lol. my mom had a bunch of gay dancer friends (most of whom died in the 80/90s, which i only know because age 10-12 (mom stepped sideways out of my life after age 12) she took me to pride every year and i went marching with a group of mothers/friends of men lost to AIDS and i carried a sign i drew with a leaping male dancer on it), but i dont think i ever really understood what ‘lesbian’ was until Mean Girls came out, and even then i didnt have the ‘oh shit’ moment till college. im just saying...let gay kids know its ok to have crushes. let them feel normal. let it be sweet and innocent infatuation as adorable as Tombo adoringly following Kiki on his bicycle while she tries to impress on her broom. let it be about that intense feeling of wanting this one person to be more Special than anyone else in one’s life. heterosexual kids are encouraged, almost pressured into, having crushes at that age. let queer kids have that too ;_;

[district2001]

Fake Fan

Seventeen AU: 14th member

ERA: An Ode/ Fear

Jangmi x SVT

Recap: Jangmi deals with an unpleasant situation at a fansign, and takes it a lot worse than she expected

Words: 1.3k 

AN: Requests are OPEN: Please please please send me what you want to see from Jangmi. I’m also open to feedback :)

Let me know if you want a part 2 on the members reactions

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST FOR MORE JANGMI CONTENT XX

“OMG We have matching earrings!” Jangmi squealed as she continued signing the carats album, adding a quick ‘twinning’ alongside her autograph.

Seventeen were currently smack bang in the middle of the ‘An Ode’ promotions, and their schedule was packed with music shows, radio interviews and fan signs. The latter being her favourite. She could secretly eat snacks, mess up the performance as much as she pleased as well as spill some of the tea with Carats.

She waved goodbye the fan, before taking a sip of her water whilst waiting for the next fan to move along. She was squashed between Mingyu and Hoshi, who had both decided that would be super loud and annoying today. She grabbed one of the feather boas near Mingyu and wrapped it around her neck. It definitely didn’t match her leather suit, but the bright pink allowed her to stand out from the rest of the members. As if being the only girl wasn’t enough.

She turned to face the next carat, who was still talking to Mingyu. Must be their bias, she thought. Jangmi continued waving at the fans back in their seat, making stupid faces to them.

One of their staff came up behind her and tugged the boa, so it came off her neck. Jangmi turned around to face them, whilst pouting.

“Nice try.” They teased, ruffling her hair slightly, but not enough to ruin the difficult task their hairstylists had this morning. They then ushered the fan who was still with Mingyu, to move over to Jangmi.

“Hi, how are you today? Is Mingyu your bias?” Jangmi asked. Whilst trying to grabs the fans hands to hold. But they just shoved their hands back.

Strange. Jangmi thought. But then again not everyone wants to hold hands.

“He’s my favourite person in the entire world.” The fan declared, a smile on her face from ear to ear.

Jangmi politely smiled. “He’s a good bias to have. I mean did you see the amount of content he gives carats. Mukbangs after emceeing every weekend. I think Joshua’s stans are in a continuous drought.”

Jangmi reached over to grab the album, but the fan once again pulled it out of the way, hugging it tightly

“Do you bias him” they asked cautiously.

Jangmi tilted her head, at the strange question. “Ofcourse I do.” She then lowered her voice into a whisper. “He’s my favourite member.”

The last comment, which was meant to be a joke, clearly hadn’t turned into one, since the fan was furrowing her eyebrows at Jangmi.

Jangmi awkwardly looked around, trying to find a way to diffuse the tension. She couldn’t think of anything, so she leaned over to get the album- to sign- since it was technically a fansign.

What she didn’t expect was the ‘carat’ to thwart her hand away.

“Stop throwing yourself at Mingyu, you little slut. I know he’s your boyfriend” They whispered, loud enough only for Jangmi to hear.

“He’s- He’s not?” It can out more like a question then a statement. Jangmi furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

The fan quickly grabbed Jangmi’s hands, and squeezed them a little too tightly, for her liking. She tried pulling away, but they started digging their nails into her skin.

“I don’t even understand what he sees in you. You’re just a little fat fuck who is free-riding on Seventeens success. Don’t think you’re better than anyone else. You don’t deserve his heart”

Jangmi widened her eyes, trying to silently motion for the staff to come over. Where were they when she needed them.

“Please let go of me before I call security.” She firmly said, hoping they didn’t catch the little quiver in her voice.

The fan leaned over closer and sneered, tightening their grip on her arms. “Do it, I dare you. Bring more attention towards the truth.”

She was weighing up her options, when Hoshi suddenly interrupted her train for thought. “Jangmi, don’t steal all our carats.”

“I’m not.” Jangmi scoffed, holding up her hands which were still being held by their fan. “She’s not letting go.”

“Not her fault everyone loves her.” Mingyu chimed, causing the fans eyes to widen.

“Do you love Jangmi?” The fan asked quickly, tripping over their words.

Mingyu, being the most unobservant person on the planet replied with a simple “obviously,” whilst leaning his head on Jangmi’s shoulder.

Jangmi tried pushing him off to not make the situation worse, but the damage was done once the fan let go of her hands and stood up on their chair.

“Everyone” She yelled, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and look at her. “Mingyu just confirmed that he loves Jangmi.”

Jangmi held her breath, waiting for the crowd and staff to go crazy.

They did not.

They just laughed, and went back to doing what they were doing before the interruption.

Jangmi mentally laughed. Why was she even worried? Carats were so used to dating rumours with her and her members. Legit. They don’t even trust Dispatch anymore.

Unfortunately, her happiness was short lived, when the fan started yelling again. Except this time, instead of spilling the tea, she was calling Jangmi out for being a shitty human being.

“What does Mingyu even see in that talented bitch?” All the members stopped signing again, with Seungcheol pre-empting the situation and alerting security.

“Mingyu’s never going to be yours. You can’t sing. Can’t dance. Can’t rap. You can’t even speak Korean. Plus you look like you need to go on a diet. You’d probably have been kicked out already if you were in a kpop girlgroup.”

Hoshi quickly stood up, pulling Jangmi with him, and stood infront of her, shielding her from the fan.

“Ignore it.” He whispered, not breaking the deathgare he was shooting at their fan.

The fan’s rant was cut short by security asking her politely to get down from the stool and walk off stage.

Jangmi felt someone’s hands wrap around her shoulders, and she leant into their embrace, slightly embarrassed for being the centre of this whole ordeal.

“You know what?” The fan screamed at their security. “I don’t want this shitty album anyway. Since her medicore vocals are on it.” She pointed her finger at Jangmi before hurling the CD towards her.

Jangmi, who was too busy looking at her members reactions, didn’t have enough time to process what was happening. And before she knew it, she felt the sharp corner of their album hit her cheek, before crashing on the floor.

Hoshi quickly turned around to face his maknae and cupped her slightly red cheeks. “Are you okay?” He asked worriedly, quickly scanning her face for any signs of distress.

  She nodded while biting her lip, trying not to show any emotion. That was the first rule of fansigns; make it a positive and fun environment for carats.

She felt the arm around her shoulder pull her towards the side of the stage, and she didn’t object. Instead she grabbed one of the signs she was gifted as shielded herself from the fans.

“Thanks Hannie” She whispered, as they walked off the stage.

Hannie’s arm was replaced by their managers, who guided her to the nearest couch.

“Go back onstage. And tell everyone that everything’s under control.”

“Can’t I stay with Jangmi for a little while.” Jeonghan pleaded, but one look of their managers face made it clear that it was no point arguing.

Jeonghan quickly untied her high ponytail and took out all the bobby pins, before running his fingers through her hair. “Just relaxed for a bit. Don’ worry we can handle the rest of the fansign.”

He quickly ran back on stage, but not before turning around and giving her a thumbs up.

Her manager came back over to give her a bottle of cold water, which she gladly accepted.

It’s not like she hadn’t received hate comments before. She was basically the only girl in a group full of guys. Not to mention that they were all considered visuals, and she-well the fan was right- definitely did not fit into any of the beauty standards of the industry.

But she had never really had to deal with a hater in person before, especially right in front of her. Usually, they just talked shit on the internet, and she could give a snarky reply from her secret fan account.

This was different. Everyone heard it. And she was so sure it would be the talk of the town for the next few weeks. Pledis would make a statement, the members would be ultra protective of her and her parents would once again question her decision of being an idol. Fucking fantastic!

She heard Seungcheol making a statement, and fans screaming back towards him. She heard a few ‘I love You’s’ and ‘Jangmi’s,’ but she honestly was a bit over the situation, to really understand what was happening.

As she sunk deeper into the couch, she accepted the fact that she was not ok after this ordeal. But she’d have to keep on a brave face. Considering the end of promotions was nowhere near in sight.

Next: Hyung Line’s Reaction

[sweeethinny]

Trick or treat, sweetie?

I wanted to do something for Halloween, but I'm a little skeptical, and spirit stories and these things don't really do much to me BUT thinking about Sharp Objects and all the True Crime cases I’ve heard, I managed to write this, and I think I did something decent thanks to the hinny discord that helped me choose the costume for our couple

It was Halloween day, which meant that almost all teenagers in town would lie to their parents saying they were going to get candy when in fact, they would be in the forest drinking, making out behind the rocks, or throwing themselves into the clearing that was there close by.

Ginny would be no different.

She had convinced Harry to wear a couple costume, not because it was just tacky and funny, but because his ass would look much better on Princess Leia's costume than it did on her. Also, she was much more suited to Han Solo than Harry.

‘’You look great.’’ She said, hitting his ass as soon as her boyfriend came out of the bathroom, still fixing his wig on his head

"This shit itches" Harry complained, sitting on the edge of his bed so that Ginny could straighten the clip that held the fake hair back. "You look hot." His hand also hit her ass, staying there. "Your mother would die if she knew we were like this.''

‘’She knows, and she said that as much as you look good in white, you should wear Han Solo’s clothes’’ Ginny kissed him quickly, squeezing his chin and sucking on his lip ‘‘I disagree. I think men in skirts are sexy’’

‘’I’m happy that I like your beauty standard’’ The boy stood up, putting the last details before looking at her ‘’Ready?’’

‘’I’ve always been’’ Ginny lifted her chin, taking his hand and pulling him out of the room. Of course Lily asked the two of them to stop for a photo, commenting to James about the two being beautiful and that Harry should start wearing a cape like that more often because it did so much for his shoulders.

‘’Behave yyou two! I don't want to go to the police station to take out two stupid teenagers'' James warned them before they left the house, which Harry promptly confirmed and calmed them down about the two of them being home before one in the morning (everyone knew it was a lie, but at that day they would all pretend to be true)

‘‘Han Solo who should drive’’ Ginny reminded him, sitting in the passenger seat while warning Hermione that they were already on  way

‘’If he had a driver’s license, for sure. For now, let me do it.'' Harry left his hand on her thigh, as he always did, following the old path they used to reach the clearing, passing through the town square where the children were having fun, gathered to start picking up sweets or throwing toilet paper at someone's house, and going straight until they reached the street of the pig slaughterhouse, to finally reach the road.

‘’Mione said she’s also going’’ She said ‘‘Do we have to buy anything?’’

‘’No, I left the drinks with Seamus yesterday. We just need to get our nice ass over there’’ Harry smiled ‘‘I hope you won’t be jealous when everyone looks at mine, instead of yours’’ Ginny laughed, denying and shrugging

‘’Feel free, I’m not jealous’’

‘’Ah, sure’’ Harry used all his sarcasm, barely taking his eyes off the empty road ‘‘It’s ugly to lie, Han’’

‘‘I’m not lying’’ She defended herself ‘’When did you see me jealous?’’

‘’Yesterday when that girl flirted with me at the market’’ He barely stopped to think, which made her a little irritated, even though she was amused

''Ah, so you admit it was a flirtation'' Ginny tossed her hair behind her shoulders, crossing her legs and looking out the window, seeing the city a little further away now ''I remember you saying it was just her way''

‘’But she’s like that. Ask Nev’’ She looked at him, arching an eyebrow and holding back laughter

‘’Nev didn’t have sex with Kimbely’’ Ginny argued

‘‘I don’t know’’ Harry shrugged ‘‘She is very friendly’’

‘’And what do you know about that?’’ She poked, still staring at him with a raised eyebrow and a smug smile on her face

‘’Nothing, just what-- What the fuck!?’’ Harry braked the car with much more speed than was recommended, the noise echoing down the empty road, seeming to shake the trees that lay there. Ginny bounced forward, her body being stopped by her seat belt, but her head hit the panel, causing an irritating pain.

When she looked up to look at the road in front of her, a curse escaped her mouth, staring at the woman standing in the middle of the road, all dressed in white while carrying an ax dripping with blood.

‘’Do you think we should see if everything is okay?’’ Harry asked, gaping at the scene, still staring at that woman

''I think you should back up and runaway from here'' She replied, scared to death ''It's the fucking woman in white, what are we still doing standing around?'' The woman in white , the urban legend of that small town that, a few years ago, had been the local of three brutal deaths.

The three girls were not even fifteen when they disappeared, one at a time; the first disappeared in the summer, some said that she had run away with her boyfriend, others said that she had killed herself in the clearing, and it was only after three weeks of searching that her body was found, on the roof of the pig slaughterhouse, all dismembered.

The second was in the fall of that same year, but she had not been gone for more than three days, and her body was found hanging from the traffic lights on the main street, exposed for all to see.

In the meantime, the parents were already in a panic, and no more children or teenagers were seen alone on the street, the doors were closed before six and no one left the house at night. For a city with less than 5,000 inhabitants, that was the biggest terror they had ever faced.

The third disappeared after a year, on the anniversary of the death of the first, she had disappeared after going for a bike ride on the way to a friend's house, and for months no one had any news or evidence of the disappearance. On the anniversary of the death of the second, her body was found half on the roof of the slaughterhouse, and the other half, hanging from the traffic lights.

It was chaos.

When a truck driver pleaded guilty - a few months of panic and terror for everyone in the city afterwards - everyone pretended to be more relieved. He never confessed the reason for killing the three girls so brutally, but it didn't matter, the population would pretend to be peace again. Even if one of the boys who lived on the way to the clearing, claimed that he had seen a woman in white carrying the body across the road, dragging it into the forest.

The police always denied it, saying that there was no chance of a woman committing something as horrible as that, but the population never let themselves forget the legend. Sometimes, someone said that he had seen a woman dressed in a great bloodstained robe walking around the city. Another said he had seen her in the clearing. Another said that she was always around the slaughterhouse ..

And now, there was a woman in a white dress full of blood, an ax in her hand, in front of Harry's car, looking like the devil as she looked at them.

Her hair was blond and looked dirty with dirt and something Ginny hoped was not dried blood, her eyes were big and dark, like two holes in her pale, almost skeletal face, and all over her bust were marks of scrapes and cuts.

‘’The car doesn’t want to start’’ Harry almost screamed, turning the key and seeing that nothing was changing

''What?! No! I will not die! This shit will call and we'll go over that motherfucker'' Ginny shouted in response, nervous to the last strands of hair for seeing that the woman was starting to walk, using her free hand to clean what looked like blood dry, from her cheek.

''I do not know! Damn!’’ Harry hit the steering wheel, and the horn barely seemed to startle her, and maybe, she was already less than two meters away from them

‘‘Where’s the knife I always leave it here?’’ Ginny opened each compartment, shivering as she rummaged through Harry’s mess looking for metal

‘’She has a fucking ax, what the fuck are you going to do with a knife? She will kill you before you can say the word ‘Please’ ’’ He looked at her, looking like a piece of paper so white, then turning forward and moving the key again

‘’Harry, she’s getting close’’ Ginny whispered, terrified that the woman could hear her trembling voice

‘’I know, I’m trying’’ The blonde was walking more and more, starting to laugh like crazy, loudly and laughing with her head back, dragging the ax on the road floor, causing a terrible sound of the blade on the asphalt

''Trick or treat, sweeties?'' Her voice sounded loud but at the same time it seemed to be whispered, her black eyes blinked towards them both, and the moment she got close enough to touch the hood of the car, lifting her ax and ready to break the windshield, Harry managed to turn the key.

The noise of the engine echoed and the tires sang with the sharp reverse they made, moving further and further away from the woman who now ran towards them

‘’Go over it !!’’ Ginny screamed, terrified of how fast she could be

''I'm not going to jail!'' He also shouted, changing lanes so he could accelerate and got out of there, but he couldn't avoid when the woman threw herself on top of the car, rolling over the hood and falling on the road, staying still dirtier than before, but not looking dead. She was still laughing out loud and was able to move, looking like she wanted to get up.

'’Don't you dare stop. I swear Harry, I'll kill you!’’ Ginny felt her heart racing to the point of thinking she was having an attack, barely able to breathe properly ‘’ Accelerate and let’s go ’’

‘’Shit Gin!’’ Harry stepped on the gas, much faster than the law allowed, and left, feeling completely shaky ‘‘Damn I think I’m going to pass out’’

''I swear to you, if I hadn't gone to the bathroom before we left, I would have peed in my pants'' She took a deep breath ''What the fuck was that?'' Ginny asked, still looking back as if she expected see her again

''I do not know! Where did that fuck come from?’’ He said

‘’From hell’’ Ginny said. Harry had the audacity to laugh, but he didn't seem very happy ‘’I need a strong drink’’

‘’Me too’’ He replied, parking the car in the middle of the trees and listening to the sounds of music and conversations, some headlights were on and you could see the bodies walking from side to side. Harry squeezed Ginny's thigh, as if to confirm that she was there. ‘’Do you want to drink and then have sex in the back seat? I think I need to discharge the adrenaline’’

‘‘I don’t think you’ve ever come up with anything as good as this’’

[mst3kproject]

The River of the Giant Alligator

A bunch of Italians pretending they’re not Italian in a movie about a guy who chose the wrong place to build a hotel… it’s like Avalanche by way of Devil Fish, with an alligator.  And racism.  You can’t have a 70’s Italian jungle movie without the racism, and this one layers it on real thick.  I think The River of the Giant Alligator has its MST3K bases covered.

Rich Asshole Joshua has opened Paradise House, a resort in the middle of the ‘virgin jungle’.  He proudly tells visitors that not only has he left the surrounding ecosystem undamaged, but he’s helping the local people by giving them jobs and improving their standard of living.  Naturally it’s not as simple as that.  Trouble begins when Sheena, the model they brought for their advertising photographs (just for a dash of Killer Fish), vanishes overnight.  Photographer Daniel and hotel manager Ally go to the locals looking for her, and are told that the River God has awakened and intends to drive the white people away by assuming the form of a giant crocodile and eating them all.  Considering how mind-bogglingly stupid the tourists in this movie are, that should take all of twenty minutes.

The locals, who call themselves the Kuma, have a name for their River God but it’s pronounced five different ways and I won’t guess how to spell it.  Because of the deep breathing sounds that presage its first appearance, I shall call the creature Darth Gator.

Let’s get the basics out of the way first.  The whole movie is dubbed and the voice actors are bad. The Darth Gator prop is completely immobile but they mostly keep it in the dark or in really tight shots so we don’t notice… it’s only the occasional ill-advised wide shot where it’s obviously fake enough to be funny.  There’s a spiky fence that exists mostly so that people can get impaled on it and a cloying little kid for no reason whatsoever.  The ‘wildlife’ is a stock footage smorgasbord that includes orangutans and hippos on the same river.  The worst effect in the film is a terrible miniature shot of the hotel on fire, which would have looked just fine if the people involved hadn’t forgotten that flames don’t scale.

So all that sucks, but is fairly harmless.  Now let’s talk about the racism.

We’ll start with the movie’s treatment of its two ‘love stories’, and I use the floating commas because neither of them quite qualifies. Daniel and Ally are the main ‘couple’ of the movie.  The camera lingers on each of them to show that he thinks she’s beautiful and she thinks he’s rugged, and they spend the whole movie hanging out on balconies and boats together and discussing whether the resort is good or bad for the local people… but they never get so much as a kiss.  This is kind of nice, actually, because there’s very little time to stop and make out when you’re being chased by a large carnivorous reptile.  It does, however, make for a hell of a contrast between them and the other ‘couple’ we see.

This is the model, Sheena, and her Kuma boyfriend. I am unclear on where this movie is set (the closest we get to a clue is Ally referring to the area as ‘the Orient’, which could honestly mean anything) but it’s perfectly clear that the reason they hired a black woman for their publicity photos is to make the place look ‘exotic’.  There’s a weird moment when Joshua attempts to flirt with Sheena by telling her, “it occurs to me that Eve herself may have been black”, which… yes, that is how human evolution worked, what about it?  All that aside, at the end of the day, Sheena runs off for a romantic evening with one of the tribesmen.  We never see her talk to this guy or have any clue what made her pick him over any of the others.  They just go fuck on a beach and then get eaten by an alligator.

So… we have blonde, blue-eyed white people having a perfectly chaste, wait-for-marriage love affair in which they actually get to know each other… and black people who run off with a stranger and screw out in the open like animals.  Holy shit.  I want to say I hope this wasn’t something the film-makers actively thought about, but it might be worse if they didn’t.  Naturally, this is also a version of the ‘people who have premarital sex must die’ trope from slasher movies, and the movie makes doubly sure we know this is Bad Behaviour by having Ally remark that the Kuma are forbidden from visiting ‘the Island of Love’ on the full moon.

The deaths of Sheena and Nameless Kuma Guy also begin a pattern that lasts almost the entire movie.  Even though we’re told, repeatedly, that Darth Gator wants to drive the white people out of his jungle, for the vast majority of the running time it’s the brown people who are getting chomped.  We’re told that twelve white missionaries came here years ago and Darth Gator ate all but one of them, who then became a crazy jungle man (not gonna lie, Father Jonathan was my favourite character and I wish we’d seen more of him).  We see Sheena, her boyfriend, and the boyfriend’s brother get eaten alive.  Furthermore, most of the white deaths in the movie are at the hands of the Kuma, who run in and kill the tourists with spears and fire arrows in the belief that they’re doing their god’s bidding, and much of this happens offscreen. Those hit by the arrows quickly fall into the water and vanish from sight.  The only time the camera lingers on a white person dying is Joshua, who I guess they think deserved it.  The impression one gets is that white death is a horror better implied than shown, while brown death is a spectacle.  Again… holy shit.

The River of the Giant Alligator can’t seem to decide what we’re supposed to think about the Kuma people.  Early in the film they’re portrayed as victims.  These foreigners have invaded their land and built this giant hotel, and claimed to be helping them by giving them ‘work’. Ally notes that they’ll be able to live longer, healthier lives, but Daniel wonders if it’s worth it when they’ve basically become Joshua’s slaves.  The movie leaves this question hanging there without exploring it any further. When Daniel and Ally come looking for information about the alligator attacks, the Kuma direct them to Father Jonathan, knowing they’re more likely to believe a white man, even one who’s obviously not quite all there.  The movie really wants to be about the exploitation of indigenous peoples, treated as decorations and curiosities by white tourists.

The problem is, it wants to eat that cake, too.  By the end of the story, the Kuma have devolved into stock savages.  They attack the hotel and kill everybody, and kidnap Ally so they can tie her to a horizontal King Kong contraption as a sacrifice. The ending just makes it all the more confusing, as they turn up to discover that their god has been blown to bloody chunks after biting into a van full of explosives, and they cheer and they just leave.  Is it really that easy to kill a god?  Won’t a dead god demand vengeance anyway?  Does this mean they actually like the white people after all, and were only angry because Darth Gator was eating them?

The ending also muddles the movie’s other point, about the nature of eco-tourism.  One of the selling points of Paradise House is that it’s in the middle of virgin jungle.  Joshua brags about how he’s left the surrounding ecosystem untouched – but then we cut straight to trees being cleared using dynamite, and later we see live piglets being thrown into the river to keep the crocodiles hanging around so people can gawk at them.  You can’t build a hotel in the middle of a place and then call it ‘virgin jungle’.  You’re the one who violated it!

The script is a little unclear on whether Darth Gator is a natural or supernatural threat.  Ally and Daniel insist that it’s no mere alligator (I don’t think this movie knows the difference between crocodiles and alligators any better than I do) and Father Jonathan seems to believe it’s the Devil Himself, but it certainly dies like a flesh-and-blood creature.  Whatever its nature, it’s clear enough that Darth Gator represents the jungle striking back at these intruders to drive them out.  The Kuma literally say as much.  So what are we to take from the fact that it dies at the end?  Have we won the right to destroy the forest by killing its guardian?  I don’t believe the people who make these movies think this stuff through.

I can tell that we’re supposed to hate the tourists, and we do, although not always for the reasons the movie wants us to. Minnow, the red-haired little girl who ‘only likes to play with boys’, tries so hard to be Adorable that you want to punt her across the room.  Her mother leaves her to wander around the hotel alone, because Mummy’s got a smarmy mustached boyfriend to bang (even this relationship gets more attention than Sheena and Unnamed Kuma Guy, by the way… we are told that Mummy and Mustache have met before, and are here mostly to see each other rather than the jungle).  Other notable annoyances include a lady who seems perfectly sane until she starts talking about the aliens, and a guy who loves to complain about Youth These Days and will seize any opportunity to do so.

I kinda wanna gripe about these obnoxious characters, but I don’t feel like I can.  You may recall that I spent a month stuck on a cruise ship earlier this year.  I can tell you definitively that these people do exist, and I hate them even more in real life.

Man, this could have been a fun monster movie.  I’ve seen movies about man-eating crocodiles (or alligators… does it honestly matter that much?) that I really enjoyed.  Primeval wasn’t even that bad – it was about how humans are more monstrous than anything nature can produce.  Lake Placid had that immortal bit where Betty White says if I had a dick, this is where I’d tell you to suck it.  The River of the Great Alligator is just boring bullshit and things that seem kinda racist on the surface but then you think about them a little longer and realize they’re incredibly racist.  I went into this one hoping to like it, but it absolutely pissed on the last shreds of my optimism... like a lot of other things in 2020.

[dahvangogh]

and empty words are evil | Jason Todd

[masterlist]

[ prologue | one | two ] 

CHAPTER ONE

“Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”

– Anais Nin

“How to be single and satisfied at the same time?” Daniel reads the headline out loud, his eyes skimming through the cover of It Girl with curiosity.

Grace hums out loud, thinking the question over while chewing her bottom lip.

“Masturbating, for sure,” Lisa says without missing a beat, Grace only seeing the top of her blonde head because of how burrowed on the laminated menu she was.

The raven-haired laughs loudly –she can’t help it–, but poor Daniel, red tinting his face, starts looking around in case anyone at the dinner has heard them and was giving them any dirty looks.

“Relax, Dan. No one cares.” Grace pats him on the shoulder.

Lisa seems to have forgotten her menu and is now staring fully at Dan, a wicked smile appears on her purple-painted lips, completely ready to bug him.

“Don’t… Leave him alone, Lisa.” Grace quickly chastises her, even kicking her under the table for emphasis, for Lisa can be the most annoying person ever when she wants to. “And Dan, no one is paying any attention to us. Relax.”

Dan is still looking around, his face finally back to its natural color.

“It seems… everyone is paying attention to the tv?”

Pauli’s Diner is crowded, every booth full and a long queue that reaches from the counter to the door. The usual. Yet everyone’s attention, even the four waitresses, seems to be on the tv. Grace also focuses on the big tv, which is placed high at the back of the diner wall, three booths away from theirs. It is on and showcasing a newswoman reporting about something, but without the sound and no headlines or subtitles below to indicate what she was talking about, Grace is left with more questions than answers.

“I think something happened.” Dan sounds between scared and resigned.

The three of them look at each other, then almost comically pull out their phones at the same time. Something always happens in Gotham –the city that never rested–, and it was a common occurrence to check the Gotham Gazette App every day. After all, any good Gothamite knows that to be well informed is the key to survival in such an insane and restless city.

“Fuck. I swear if that madman of Zsasz has escaped again, I will hunt him down and drag his ass to the Asylum myself,” Lisa grunts; her pale brows furrowed tightly. “Fucking load already, stupid App!”

Grace focuses on her screen, the app taking more time than usual to load.

“Mine too…” Dan’s answers in his usual hushed voice. Then, he starts chewing on his lip, worry all over his face.

A big headline pops on Grace’s screen –the App finally deciding on working–,  and she sighs happily after reading it.

“Seems an aircraft has fallen to the Sprang River; 20 people are currently missing and the rescue team is doing everything in their power to get to them.” She literally reads out loud the last words, happy that no madman is out and about on the city. “Nothing about Zsasz, sorry Lisa.”

Her two friends exhale the air they had been holding.

“Seems your impromptu date with Zsasz will have to wait.” Grace kicks her friend’s leg again, but this time just to annoy her.

Lisa shows her the middle finger.

“No, but for real. After last time, I don’t think he is going anywhere.” The raven-haired reminds them. “He killed 5 people until Batman and young Robin stopped him.”

Grace sees Dan gulp.

“Yeah, after escaping. Again.” Lisa sounds mad, which is understandable after living in Gotham for five years, and seeing all the hurt Zsasz has caused many Gothamites. “And one of them was my neighbor!”

Dan sighs, remembering her.  “Oh, that poor woman…”

“She was a mean bitch, though,” Lisa adds as if it is vital information.

Grace can’t help but to huff.

“Lisa!”

Suddenly, one of the waitresses appears at their booth. With a sheepish smile painted on her serene face, –probably because of how much they had had to wait– she asks them what they would like to order.

Lisa happily asks for a sandwich and a banana smoothie, –as if the last conversation has never happened– but quickly rectifies and changes for a big portion of the chocolate cake instead of the sandwich. The waitress, Marge by what the badge on her blouse, agrees with the blonde and sings praises about how good it is. Then, her attention goes to Dan, asking him sweetly what he would like to order.

The boy, who has never liked being the center of attention, turns bright red again. Shyly, he orders a cappuccino and one of their famous big chocolate cookies, all the while his eyes are zooming on the table instead of her.

When she turns to her, Grace feels as if she has been punched on the stomach.

The waitress aura, white and bright as any other, is twinkling and shaking from pure anxiety.

“What about you, sweetheart?” The old lady asks kindly, her face completely composed despite what her aura said of her.

The contrast between her aura and her facial expression is starting to freak Grace out. Nevertheless, she tries to focus on the present, on what she is feeling, on where she is and, more importantly, on what she wants to fucking eat. Which is really obvious if you know her, by the pointed looks of Lisa and Dan.

“I want a yogurt and banana smoothie, please.”

Marge hums.

“Be right back, then.”

Then, Lisa quickly starts rambling about what they should do on the weekend, something about the opening of a new club in town, but the raven-haired girl can’t pay enough attention to the get on the conversation. Marge’s soul is making it hard for her to concentrate; she even starts rubbing her hands together instinctively as if to distract herself.

She says fuck it and turns around.

The old waitress looks as composed as before, preparing their orders with the help of another girl while looking at the tv. But if Grace focuses hard enough, she can clearly depict Marge’s aura still shaking and twinkling, perhaps even more so than before. Despite training hard to control it, Grace still sometimes is unintentionally receptive to other people’s feelings –almost like an antenna would, she can perceive them and even go as far as toying with them.

This woman is anxious and worried, and Grace doesn’t even know how she isn’t shaking physically.

And Grace, being the sympathetic girl that she is, can’t help but take pity on the poor woman and break her own rules.

She extends her hand, scanning before that no one is paying her any attention, and then lowers it slowly.

Marge’s aura calms at the same time that her hand motion stops, and it no longer twinkles.

Though the lights in the room go crazy for a few seconds.

Grace has to thank whatever God exists, or even the Cosmos, that small tasks such as this one  don’t make her hands or her whole self glow with the usual green-bluish energy.

She still remembers the hilarious comment that once a crewmember of the Serbian Mafia made when he saw her appear out of nowhere, floating in the sky, just minutes before she brought hell upon them. Her, attired in her tight black suit and black domino mask, surrounded by bright green-bluish energy floating in the black sky while defying gravity.

And instead of running away, hide or even shot at her, he placed his hands on his hips and said out loud impressed:

“What the fuck? She looks like Goku Super Saiyajin!”

Grace can’t hold now the giggle that escapes her lips.

“What the hell?” Lisa’s voice brings her back to the present, and to the diner.

The raven-haired girl turns around and looks at her friends, smiling as if nothing had just happened, while blinking innocently.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

[ –    –    – ]

The pencil runs all over her sketchpad, quietly humming along to Stevie Wonder’s Superstition while drawing the sun setting between the skyscrapers. It looks spectacular from her high-ceiling windows. Grace’s weird obsession –despite her psychologist telling time and time again to her that it isn’t exactly a bad thing– of drawing beautiful things, or anything she believes is beautiful to her own standards, has made her sit down and try to make it justice.

Despite having to get ready for a night out with Lisa.

“Just fifteen minutes more and you will get ready.” She sets an alarm, just as Dr. Carson had advised her to do, and keeps drawing happily.

The oranges, in light and deep tones, together with the goldens of the sun setting almost make her forget about any advice, psychologist and nightclub.

And so she keeps going, her sketch pencil running through the page.

She has always felt privileged for owning an apartment in Gotham Village, where only the rich dwelled and played, with amazing views and almost non-existent criminality –which is surprising to say the least in this damned city–. It is the place where she could find herself being happy or at least, try to be normal.

But she misses going out and doing her thing as she did back in Europe.

Grace sighs, chewing on her already-chewed sketch pencil and stops drawing, hugging her legs to her chest.

When she had moved to Gotham almost a year ago, she had wanted to set aside her “dangerous hobby” and live a normal life. Like Lisa or Dan did.

After what had happened to her six years ago, she had used her family’s connections and pulled some strings so she could go and study in a European country. Away from Central Park and New York. There in Berlin, Grace had trained with an Israeli private trainer, Isaac, in Krav Maga until achieving a black belt and her expert five patch. Initially, she had started with just wanting to know the basics, a bit for self-defense and that’s it. Until one day, on a Friday night while she was watching The News, she saw another rapist just get five to ten years in jail and a pat on his shoulder. It had made her so furious that all the windows on her apartment exploded. Moreover, it was in that exact moment, while floating in the middle of her room with her whole being surrounded by the weird bright green-bluish energy and feeling full of rage, that she knew she could try and make a difference, for those who had power were clearly not doing anything.

The next day, after paying the window installer for she had no windows after last night’s debacle, she had asked Isaac about what he would wear, hypothetically of course, if he went to a fucking battle. At first, her trainer had answered that his military uniform but then he had rambled on and on about how a suit of Kevlar thread paired with a good armor would be the best choice if he could afford it.

So Grace, after debating all day whether to do it or not, had called her father that same night and had asked him to find someone who could build it for her.

Matthew Henderson had asked many questions, but she had just told him that in due time she would tell him. Just not now.

He had refused and straight-up hang up.

Later that same night, wide awake and after seriously considering to just wing it and buy a superhero costume from a cosplay online shop, her father had miraculously called again and accepted.

She really was his spoiled little girl.

Grace had flown to New York, the city that she now loathed with a passion, and had her measures taken. The guy who created it made the suit so it fit her like a glove – the downside to that? she had to be careful with what she ate.– It was tight, full-body and with high heeled boots to make her seem taller –after all, she couldn’t go around looking like a gremlin while also fitting crime. A pair of matching black gloves and a domino mask were also made.

After that, before putting the suit, she had not only trained to be the best at Krav Maga but also had learned a few other things –fighting with knives and how to use a gun properly, yet she still preferred to this day using her powers and Krav Maga–. A year and a half later, she had made her debut on Berlin’s streets.

In those years, she had killed many rapists, abusers and pedophiles. Delivered a few petty thieves and robbers to the nearest police station like Santa Claus would do on Christmas Eve, even going as far as tying them up and sticking a note on their foreheads explaining what they had done wrong. She really had been a good samaritan. A few encounters here and there with the Serbian Mafia and the Triad too.

Moreover, she might have done some petty thievery here and there, just to add a bit of spice to her life, but mainly she had been a good girl.

And fuck, she misses doing those things.

It was fun.

A bit dangerous, yes, but fun.

When you have powers beyond your imagination and are able to do some good, why would you step back and live a normal boring life?, she tries to reason with herself every night.

Yet back then in one of her many Skype sessions with Lisa, her childhood best friend, she had realized how empty and alone she had been feeling.

She had superpowers, at 23 she had her damn degree and had been studying to further her education even more, had also a lovely apartment, and yet she felt more lonely than ever.

And loneliness is a dangerous thing.

So, when she had told her good old friend, while omitting a certain hobby she had, of how she was feeling, the blonde had just replied with:

“Come to Gotham! We could live together and the city is fun. Trust me, you will never get bored here.”

Grace chuckles when remembering that. In the next twenty-four hours, she had packed her things, had said goodbye to her colleagues from University, and then hopped on a plane.

She has to give it to Lisa, Gotham city is everything but boring.

Gotham honors its name with its gloomy atmosphere, high buildings and horrible weather. The city is probably Tim Burton’s wet dream. You can find gargoyles in many of the buildings façades, many nights the city is covered in a thick fog, it has an Asylum for the worst of the worst with a high rate of escapees, an absurdly high rate in criminality and many bat-related vigilantes coming out at night to play.

Oh, and the many deranged individuals that play around Gotham like it is a child's’ dream playground.

Lisa had filled her in during those six years on her weekly Skype sessions about those individuals and so she knew most of them before she had placed a foot on the city. Gotham City has the Joker, currently-for-who-knows-how-long-because-he-always-escapes locked in Arkham Asylum, a psychopathic clown who had a weird obsession and ongoing feud with Batman; Two-Face, a half-burned crime lord obsessed with duality and the number two; the Penguin, another crime lord who looked like his namesakes and wore a monocle and umbrella; Poison Ivy, a stunning woman (Lisa said so, her gayness clearly showing here) who was an eco-terrorist and could control nature; and the list could go on and on for ages to no end.

So, her current life in Gotham is never dull or boring. She is working on a renowned and bohemian art gallery in the city, has an amazing apartment –she had tried living with Lisa but they had almost ended fistfighting with each other over a jar of marmalade–, can meet her best friends every day if she wanted, and is continuing her studies at the local University.

But she would be lying if she said she doesn’t miss going out and doing her thing.

Even drawing and painting, the thing that had always distracted her from suiting up and going out, was starting to not divert her attention as it normally would.

Her alarm starts going off.

“I really don’t want to go out.” she sighs loudly, as if someone would pat her on the shoulder and tell her not to go. “I hate partying and crowded places.”

Grace chews her already-very-chewed sketch pencil while walking all the way to her wardrobe.

She has to get ready or Lisa will probably scream her ear off for making her wait.

Though she is always late.

[ –    –    – ]

Grace, setting aside her ex-extracurricular activities, has always hated going out and now she remembers clearly why she does.

The night would always begin as good as it could possibly be. Lisa and her looking bomb would march to a nightclub, then the club would be buzzing with activity and music, they would have a few drinks and perhaps even dance a bit if the music was any good.

Then Lisa would start flirting with any of the cute waitresses and end up, don’t ask her how, with their tongue almost reaching her throat.

Lisa visibly looked like a terrible kisser, she always reminded Grace of a lifeguard doing mouth-to-mouth, and so she never understood why would the women always end up going God-knows-where to probably fuck.

And so then she would end up all alone, surrounded by sweaty bodies while going deaf by the loud music, and nursing a drink.

Tonight is no different from the usual, but she is tired. Her head hurts from overthinking too much all day long and the high heels are killing her.

Grace decides it is time to call it a day and head back home.

She quickly sends a message to Lisa, who is probably very busy with the cute blonde-haired waitress, and stands up from her barstool.

Hey girl, hope you are having fun with the redhead girl wherever you are.

As you left me alone, as usual (don’t fret, i’m used to it lmao) I have decided to stop being a pathetic human being and go home.

Call me tomorrow, but don’t even think of giving me any details. I don’t care about your sexual life.

Bye, bitch. xx

PD: text me when you GO home and when you GET home, it isn’t safe out there.

The raven-haired sighs.

She has to hit the bathroom before calling her uber though.

Too many drinks.

[ –    –    – ]

♡ Here, in this fancy shithole, Lucy Ross lost her virginity ♡

Grace sniggers, the situation completely reminding her of some of the type of things she had seen written back then on her high school’s cubicles’ walls.

She sighs happily while finally peeing.

Suddenly, the screams of a high pitched voice and the sound of glass shattering continually almost makes her fall off the toilet.

“Fuck! Fuck!”

She grabs some toilet paper and when she is finished cleaning herself, she pulls her panties up as quickly as possible. Grace holds her breath. It is one person, a female by the sound of the colorful series of profanities she is screaming, and Grace doesn’t need to check her aura to know how angry she is.

Though just in case, she takes a peek.

She focuses on her own aura, then changes her focus towards the other one in the bathroom, even going as far as closing her eyes to discern it much better –without stepping out and risking getting hurt.

It is shining as bright as the sun, but trembling and roaring with despair and sadness. The fact that the poor female isn’t angry surprises her.

Grace takes a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever she is going to face after stepping out of the enclosed and safe space where she is.

When she opens the door, almost scared of what she might see after reading the aura, the sight of a blonde woman headbutting the bathroom’s big mirror isn’t at all what she had expected.

The girl doesn’t even pay her any attention, clearly busy trying to crack her skull open, and so she keeps doing it, even adding some punches to the mix.

Grace can’t let her hurt herself this way.

“Hey, hey, hey!” She has to stop her before she kills herself, or gives herself a concussion if she is lucky enough. “Stop! Stop!”

Grace grabs the blonde by the waist, as if trying to separate her from the mirror, and pulls her against herself.

Next thing she knows, the blonde answers her with a chokehold and then sends her flying over her shoulder without breaking a sweat.

Her body collapses against the same toilet she had been peeing seconds ago, tearing the door from its fringes in the process. However, because her pain tolerance is higher than normal, Grace just grunts and answers right back.

The raven-haired extends her hand, a bright green-bluish glowing around it, and makes a motion towards the sinks. Now the blonde girl is the one being sent flying but this time towards the mirror she had been shattering just before and the sinks.

Grace stands up, her back killing her even more than usual, and approaches the blonde sitting with her back against the shattered mirror.

Weirdly enough, the girl instead of being knocked out is looking at her as if she is Jesus Incarnated. There is wonder all over her face.

“You are so paying for the damages.” the raven-haired quickly points out but then stops herself.

She can’t help but examine her for serious injuries. After all, she had been head-butting the mirror three seconds ago and then sent flying to it –on self-defense though–. But despite all the blood that is running down her forehead, she seems more than fine. Happy even, just gazing at her.

“What the hell?” she can’t help but voice her thoughts out loud.

The raven-haired almost falls backwards when the girl —who is clearly not right in the head— jumps to hug her tightly, mumbling “yes” nonstop while jumping up and down like an excited child.

The blonde girl pulls back, black eyeshadow and glitter smeared around her big blue eyes, and her black-painted lips start smiling almost manically.

“You! You!”

Grace blinks several times, completely lost for words. Then she sighs, trying to get back to the present time.

“Are you out of your mind?” she asks her, completely serious.

“No, I’m Harley Quinn and you...” the blonde points at her, smiling cheekily. “You are my new best friend.”

The raven-haired girl can still hear Lisa, in one of their many Skype sessions, telling her snippets of information here and there about Harley Quinn.

“She is definitely insane. For a long time, she was the partner in crime of Joker and dated that nutter. Girl… the things she has done are something else. Anyways, then she left him and joined a girl band… No, kidding. But Catwoman, Poison Ivy and her did start hanging out and creating some mayhem.”

Again, Grace doesn’t know what to say.

“Let’s go have a drink!”Harley links one of her pale arms with hers, then starts dragging her out of the bathroom.

[ –    –    –  ]

They both sit on a VIP booth with an exceptional view of the dance floor and enough privacy to plot the murder of the current President. The loud music is now faint and low. At the glass low table, there is a big metal ice bucket with two expensive-looking champagne bottles and two glass flutes nearby.

Harley is sitting on the other side of the table, her maniacal smile still on and with her legs crossed, while Grace sits on the other side in the U velvety couch.

She scans her, now fully seeing her for who she is.

Her hair is up in a messy bun, which is dyed in blue and pink, lipstick smeared from probably drinking too much and her clothes are as eccentric-looking as the wearer is. She is wearing what seems like a dog collar, a very sparkling sequin red crop top matching with a penguin sequin dark jacket, striped high-waisted dark pants, and red neon high-heeled boots.

“Interesting choice of clothes.” she can’t help but say, then nods to her neck. “Nice collar, too.”

Harley smiles, almost childlike.

“Bud and Lou hate wearing it, so I decided to put their dog tags on one and wear it to honor them. Cool, right?”

Grace raises an eyebrow.

“Bud and Lou are…?

The blonde laughs loudly, a hand going to her flat stomach.

“My hyenas, silly!”

Then gets serious, so suddenly that Grace almost jumps from such a radical change of demeanor, and picks up one of the champagne bottle on the ice bucket.

“Sounds cool.”

It is all she can say.

But Harley doesn’t pay her any attention, furiously shaking the bottle up and down until it pops. She laughs fascinated by it, then pours some on both flutes and gives her one.

“Anyways!” she cries out loudly, then sips a bit of the champagne while staring at her, doe-eyed. “I kinda need your help.”

Grace takes a sip too.

“My help?” The raven-haired gets comfortable on the couch, a bit curious about the whole thing. After all, it isn’t every day you have a conversation with the infamous Harley Quinn. “You have just met me, Quinn.”

Harley opens her mouth – almost fish-like–, but Grace points a finger, interrupting her.

“Also, you are paying for the damn damages of the bathroom!”

The blonde enthusiastically nods, even going as far as to salute her military-style, all while smiling cutely.

Grace can’t help but smile back.

Harley Quinn is a very cute girl.

“So, will ya help me?”

She blinks a few times.

“With what?”

“Well, you see… it’s a long story.” Harley says, dragging the long while saying it. Then, she takes another loud sip of her flute. “When Mista J an’ I broke up for the hundred’ time, I decided it was time to emancipate myself! I started hanging out more with my besties, adopted many cute pets, hooked up with hot-billionaire Bruce Wayne once  an’ even changed ma’ hair.”

Grace raises a thick brow, surprise all over her face.

“You hooked up with Bruce Wayne? The Bruce Wayne?”

Harley shakes her hands nonchalantly.

“Just kissed an’ groped his ass. Very tight and firm!”

Grace laughs at that and Harley joins her.

“Anyways, anyways. My friend Selina had just recently gotten a heart surgery an’ Red an’ I were helping her out on some things, then decided to live together. We had so much fun together! So, so, so much! We ran Gotham, the boys couldn’t keep up! And… Pammy an’ I… we fell in love.”

The blonde sighed happily, blowing raspberries into her glass flute.

“Pammy is Poison Ivy, right?”

Harley nods with a happy smile, but her face quickly contorts in one full of hatred and disgust.

“But Batnight ruined everything!”

The dark-haired girl scratches her temple, trying to remember the names of all the vigilantes of Gotham City, but she can’t remember anyone called Batnight.

“I don’t… I don’t recall any Batnight?” Grace chews her bottom lip, completely lost. “Is he new in town or…?

Harley shakes her head effusively, a clear no, while moving closer so her butt is now placed on the verge of the couch.

“He has sticks!” the blonde points out as if to help her distinguish who the vigilante is.

Grace takes that into consideration.

“Batnight… Batnight… Bat… Night… Night?.” Grace mumbles out loud while Harley nods along to what she is saying. “Nightwing!”

“That’s what I said!”

Grace opens her mouth to correct her, then closes it. She thought Nightwing now patrolled on Blüdhaven instead of Gotham City. Then, she opens her mouth again to ask about it but decides on not doing, Harley’s tale is already making her head hurt a bit. There is no need to enlarge the story even more.

“Red was helping her plants, ya’ know. Doing some good for nature, an’ the Batnight took her down!” Harley places her flute on the table with ferocity, making it shatter. Nevertheless, she is still looking at her with shiny eyes. “Now, Red is at GCPD Lockup, an’ in a week will be taken to the Asylum! Unjustly!”

The blonde starts to sob desperately, putting her hands to her face so it is hidden from her, and Grace sighs silently. While she stands up and approaches her, she checks her aura.

It is shinning and twinkling furiously, Grace can feel the sadness and sorrow the woman is feeling.

She is not lying.

Grace sits beside her and pats her back slowly.

With a kind smile, she asks her: “And because of what I did in the bathroom, you want me to help you?”

Grace is really an empathic girl, she can’t help it.

Harley drops her hands to her lap and looks at her, her eyeshadow and glittery mascara even more messed up than before. Then, almost shyly, nods.

“I… I have…. “ the woman hiccups while her pale fist starts rubbing her left eye. “I have a plan. It is good! But I need me some explosives to cause a distraction, so I can bail out my Pammy. Normally I would do it myself, I was going to… ‘til I saw ya’ earlier in the bathroom!”

The raven-haired girl laughs softly, then cheekily pinches Harley’s right cheek.

“Alright. Girl, I do have superpowers.” Harley nods along to that. “And I can make things go Boom, but where the heck do I get explosives, huh?”

The blonde grabs Grace’s hands with her bleached ones, turns on the coach to sit cross-legged on it and squeezes her hands tightly. She is smiling a bit more now which makes Grace a bit happy.

She likes seeing people smile.

“Blubberpot probably has some, but we ain’t good friends, ya’ know? So he won’t give it to me.”

“Blubber… pot?”

Harley nods.

“Penguin! Small with a pointy nose? Like a toucan?” she makes a gesture of a nose going large until touching her lap with her hand.

Grace realizes she means Cobblepot, Oswald Cobblepot; and nods.

“But I earlier heard some birds talking about Black Mask, it seems he had a new shipment of LX-14, CL-20 an’ TNT to one of his warehouses here in Gotham. ” Harley whispers conspiratorially, puckering her mouth like a duck,  though they are alone in the VIP area.

The dark-haired hums, running Harley’s plan through her mind.

“And you want me to smuggle them up, right?”

Harley nods, then subsequently adds: “Selina is busy with don’t-fucking-know-what and I would ask Zatanna but I heard she was busy! So, please?”

Grace sighs.

“You could go there, make the explosives disappear an’ make them appear in my house!”

“Girl, that’s not how my powers work. To open a portal and then move them to your house, I would need to first have set a foot on the place. I can’t just teleport myself to somewhere I haven’t been to before.” Grace takes her hands off Harley’s hold and crosses her arms while explaining this to the blonde girl. “Also, do you even know which warehouse it is? Last I heard from Black Mask, he has many.”

Harley jumps from her seat and starts searching through her pants pockets, nodding to what Grace said while taking out whatever she finds inside and placing it on the small table. A lipstick, some keys with a key-chain of a circus hammer, a small pocket-knife, another pocket-knife but with a blue handle,  some sort of ring –which curiously looks like the pin of a hand grenade, but Grace will turn a blind eye on that –, and finally a crumpled piece of paper.

The blonde gives it to her, smiling happily.

“I wrote it down, ‘cause I’m a smart girl. I got a Ph.D., ya’ know?”

Grace reads the direction written in messy handwriting and chuckles at the smiley face doodled underneath it.

“I will help you out on one condition.” She points a finger to the blonde’s face. “No killing any policemen. Got it?”

Harley nods enthusiastically.

“Then I will help you.”

The blonde lets a loud scream and throws herself to Grace’s arms, ecstatically jumping up and down as she did an hour ago on the nightclub’s bathroom. She is thanking her again and again, tears running down her face and falling to Grace’s naked arms. The dark-haired girl pats her in the back, chuckling lightly, and then hugs her back.

A few seconds later, but still as happy and ecstatic as before, Harley pulls back and places each of her hands on Grace’s cheeks.

“Let’s go have a sleepover at mines!”

[antihumanism]

One of the many great things about the Gamera franchise is that it is completely schizo. The first Gamera is a kid friendly Godzilla, dropping the radiation burn victims and Oxygen Destroyer for a human plot that focuses mostly on a kid who just loves the shit out of this giant turtle. The giant turtle sort of reciprocates by saving the kid's life at one point (admittedly, the kid was only in danger because of Gamera's destruction, but whatever).

Gamera vs Barugon completely ditches the kid angle. The human plot is a dark morality tale about greed, revenge, and colonialism. There's still admiration for the monster, but it is comparable to Monsters as the female lead speaks in admiration about how beautiful Barugon's rainbow is and how no one has seen such terrors in a thousand years.

Then Gamera vs Gyaos swerves hard back into being a kid's movie, bringing back the child lead who is smarter than all of the adults and who drives both the human and monster plot. The kid even watches the final monster battle, cheering for the giant turtle to vanquish the dreaded Gyaos. But Gyaos also introduces another distinctive bit of Gamera schizo in that it is gory by kaiju standards. Gyaos nearly severs Gamera's arm in one battle and his tail in another, there's a giant pool of blood to lure out Gyaos because he lusts for blood, Gamera bites into Gyaos's neck and worries him like a dog with a feral cat while blood sprays across his face before the Friend to All Children drags his dying prey into a volcano. Godzilla Showa movies largely followed the rules of 80's kid's cartoons, where judo throws, blunt objects and energy blasts are okay, but thou shalt not shed blood in anger. Gamera Showa movies followed the "rules" of an illegal dog fighting match, where you bite down hard through the jugular and keep shaking your head and don't let up until the hated Enemy stops moving.

The remaining Gamera Showa movies follow a similar logic of obviously kid targeted but inexplicably gory kaiju movies. Sometimes they did this with honor like Gamera vs Jiger (a movie written for 12 year olds but with adults in mind and that presages the rival Godzilla franchise's Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla entry in it's commentary on Japan's relentless quest for modernization and monoculturalism at the expense of native cultures, and a movie that followed the logic of the first Gamera in constantly asspulling newer and crazier powers for the baddy just when you thought the heroes had this in the bag), but mostly they were not very good. Gamera: Super Monster was the series’ nadir, coming from a place of pure contempt for the audience on the basis that unaccompanied toddlers who accidentally stumbled into the theater wouldn't realize they were watching 60% clip show of previous films and 40% super shitty Super Sentai rip off with no meaningful connection between the two parts because the audience has no object permanence. Nevertheless, these movies are something of a trip. Imagine that Barney the Dinosaur had a gritty reboot that was two-thirds exactly what you'd expect, and the other third featured a newly introduced character called KnifeMan who just hated children like crazy and would pin Barney into a corner and try to disembowel him with his knife body while blood spewed everywhere. Then the movie ends with Barney the purple dinosaur chomping down on KnifeMan's head hard enough to burst his skull sending gore everywhere. That would be fucked up, right? Well, that’s like half the Gamera movies.

Speaking of gritty reboots, the 90's Gamera trilogy hard swerves again and grittily reboots the series, ditching the Friend to All Children in favor of the Defender of the Universe. The 90's trilogy takes so much inspiration from Evangelion that one is almost tempted to give it the D-word label. They even use an ingenious and never again matched twist in Gamera 3 of showing a scene from the final battle of Gamera: Guardian of the Universe (in which our favorite giant turtle bursts through an apartment building) from the perspective of the poor, stupid fleshbags who happen to be in the apartment building at the time. Two of those poor, stupid fleshbags had names and family and that family included a surviving daughter, and Ayana swears vengeance on the Friend to No One Actually He’s Kind of a Dick. The whole 90′s trilogy is really good and does everything that the American Godzilla series seeks to do so much better than any American Godzilla movie is likely to accomplish, and when I’m not being a contrarian I’ll acknowledge that it exceeds the first three Gamera movies, but it is also very much not a kid’s trilogy. Not to say that a child can’t watch it and enjoy it, I am a child after all, but imagine if a My Little Pony movie leaned so hard on Rescue at Midnight Castle that it broke itself in half and went full grimdark with Megan returning as a murderous, remorseless, Rambo-tier psycho who carves a bloody swath through Dream Valley in her relentless pursuit of Tirek, killing anypony that happens to end up in her path. That would be fucked up, right? It’ll be a few years before I show this trilogy to my niece, is what I’m saying.

And then the last (so far) Gamera hatches. Gamera the Brave is, in every possible way, a direct repudiation of Gamera 3. We’re a kid’s series again. We get a rehash of the central conflict of Gamera 3 (Gamera killed someone’s mom fighting a monster, that someone finds an egg, etc) but now that egg is Gamera’s offspring/sibling/reincarnated self and instead of the angry tot becoming an avatar of vengeance, he heals by bonding with a magic turtle that burps and farts fire. It is E.T. if E.T. was a kaiju. It is as gory it’s predecessors, but changing opinions and advancing special effects have decided that this degree of bloodshed is normal so it is fucking weird in context because it is normal.

[luulapants]

Hale Royal Family AU - Part 3

Based on @shey-elizabeth​‘s post:

”Me reading the Prince Harry-Meghan Markel royal family drama:

Wait… I think I read this fic already. (Starts scrolling through my AO3 history)

#random #royalty au #someone write me a steter fic #reading the news before coffee”

Part 1

Part 2

May 2017

Trendy or In-Your-Face? 20 of Stiles’s Most Outrageous Looks

Peter snagged the tablet out of Stiles’s hand on his way to the kitchen, stopping just long enough to tap it on the top of Stiles’s head. “I thought you said you were going to stop reading this tabloid trash,” he tutted.

“Do you think my stompy boots are a cry for attention?” Stiles asked.

“No, but I think they imply a level of masculinity you have no intention of following through on.”

“That’s hurtful,” Stiles said.

“I also think they’re no one’s fucking business but yours,” Peter added for good measure. He stuck his head into the kitchen and called, “Mrs. Larson? I don’t mean to rush you, but is the tea about ready? I’d like to be out by nine thirty.”

When he turned around, he saw Stiles had stretched out long on the sofa, his feet and hands dangling over the ends on either side. “What’s the rush? We’re just hanging out with my dad.”

“We would be skinned alive if we arrived late to one of my family’s events. I think we should extend your father the same respect out of principle,” Peter lied smoothly. He walked over and bent down for a quick kiss.

“Mmm, I love you,” Stiles murmured.

“Even when I get on your nerves?” Peter asked. This had become a standard call-and-response of affection for the two of them.

“Especially when you get on my nerves,” Stiles answered.

As far as Stiles knew, this would be a quiet celebratory brunch, just the two of them and the sheriff. He had opted not to attend his university’s graduation ceremony, not wanting the press that would inevitably come with such a public spectacle. “There’s thousands of other kids graduating, too, and if I go, it’ll all be a bunch of cameras on me drawing the attention,” he had said with a roll of his eyes, and Peter hated that the vultures in the tabloids had already gotten under his skin so thoroughly.

“It’s your graduation. It’s a big deal, and you deserve to enjoy it as much as the rest of them,” Peter had argued.

But Stiles had just shrugged a lazy shoulder. “Knowing me, I’d wear my stupid square hat wrong or my gown would be too flashy.”

So, to make up for it, they were spending graduation day with the sheriff. Peter had expected the man to hate him, what with the age difference and the reporters harassing Noah for information about Stiles. At first, he may very well have hated Peter, but a few blowups between Peter and those same reporters had proved beyond any doubt that he was prepared to defend Stiles with utmost ferocity.

When Peter pulled him into his scheme for the day, Noah hadn’t even hesitated. He just clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder and asked if he had the ring size worked out.

He’d taken the size while Stiles slept. A parade of elephants couldn’t wake Stiles before seven.

—-

“Did we really have to go somewhere that requires formal attire?” Stiles griped, fidgeting with his blazer. “For breakfast? I’m too scared to eat pancakes in this thing – I’ll get syrup on it.”

“You should try eating with your mouth closed,” Peter advised, and got an elbow to the ribs for his trouble.

The hostess that greeted them stumbled over her words in giddiness. “Oh, uh, your – your Highness, Mr. Stilinski. We’re so happy you chose to dine with us this morning.”

“I hear your terrace has one of the best views in town,” Peter replied smoothly. He had reserved the whole terrace for this morning.

It was beautiful, high up on a cliffside overlooking a comparatively quiet, scenic area of Richardson Bay. He couldn’t have asked for better weather, the fog having cleared already, leaving nothing but cloud-dappled sunshine and a sweetly cooling breeze off the water.

Noah was already waiting for them, leaning against the railing and looking out over the bay with a broad smile on his face that Peter didn’t often see so unguarded. He hadn’t expected to feel so jittery over the idea that Noah was actively happy about this.

Stiles got the pancakes after all, but insisted on taking the blazer off while he ate. They mostly talked about Stiles’s plans now that he was finished with school. Laura had already assured him a seat in the royal family PR department, though Stiles wasn’t sure if he wanted to do that full time.

“It just sort of feels like… like it’s getting handed to me? It’s not supposed to be that easy, you know?”

Peter clicked his tongue and leaned over to kiss some syrup off the corner of Stiles’s mouth. “It’s about time our penchant for nepotism went to a deserving candidate,” he argued. He pulled back, licking the sticky flavor off his lips. The spot was still there. He dipped the corner of his napkin in his water, then reached over to scrub it off. Stiles would be furious if he had syrup on his face for the proposal.

Noah watched his fussing with a nostalgic sort of expression, and Peter couldn’t help but think that he was remembering Stiles’s mother. It made him flush a little, not expecting the kick of emotion that came with the thought.

“He’s right, you know,” Noah said. “Most successful people had someone give them a hand up at some point. There’s no shame in it. You said yourself Laura is interested in the research you were working on – that’s on your merit.”

“And you did promise you would keep working on the promos for the vineyard,” Peter added. “So it’s not like it would be your sole vocation.”

“Oh, because working for your vineyard totally helps with the nepotism issues,” Stiles joked.

“I didn’t say that. I said you promised,” Peter shot back with a grin.

As they were finishing up their food, Stiles’s dad received a call, right on time. “Work,” he said, “I’m gonna go take this.” Then he disappeared inside, leaving Stiles and Peter alone on the terrace.

Peter nudged Stiles and stood. “Come on, let’s enjoy the view.” He walked over to the railing, his heart thudding in his chest as he placed a hand briefly over the lump in his jacket pocket.

Stiles came up next to him, hands gripping wide on the railing as he leaned forward. “God, this place is really, really beautiful,” he sighed. He looked over at Peter. “Thank you. This is, like, a thousand times better than getting mobbed by reporters today.”

Stepping in close, Peter wrapped a hand around the back of Stiles’s neck and leaned in for a kiss. “I can think of something that would make this day even better,” he purred.

A mischievous grin spread across Stiles’s lips, clearly buying the misdirection as he turned toward Peter. “Oh yeah? You’ll have to tell me all about it.” He kissed at Peter’s jaw.

“Well, to start…” Peter murmured, then took a half step back and dropped to a knee. He saw the teasing turn to confusion turn to shock and realization all in the matter of a second as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the little ring box. “You know I love you, Stiles. I’ve loved you since the day I met you, and I love you more every day.”

“Even when I get on your nerves?” Stiles blurted.

Peter grinned. “Especially when you get on my nerves.”

They had talked about it, of course. Peter would never make this sort of decision for the two of them without Stiles’s input. They had talked in vague terms, though: What would they do when it happened? Should it be public or private? How long should they wait? How would they handle the press?

He opened the box. Inside sat two slim cobalt rings, simple but elegant with a subtle, weaving design. “Will you marry me?”

Stiles sucked in a shaky breath, blinking quickly to chase off the waterworks Peter knew were threatening to overtake him. He covered his face with his hands, then slipped them down so they covered just his mouth and nose, peeking over them at Peter, at the rings. He said nothing, just made noisy near-hyperventilating sounds.

Finally, Peter said, “You know, traditionally, an answer is expected in this situation. Some of us are getting on in our years and have knee pain.”

“Shut up, you don’t have knee pain,” Stiles laughed. “Let me feel my fucking feelings for a second.” He wiped at the inside corners of his eyes and nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yes. Obviously. Get up.”

Peter started to get up, but Stiles was already grabbing him by his arm, pulling him up the rest of the way. He crowded in for a hug first, burying his face in Peter’s neck and scenting him. He didn’t have werewolf senses, but he knew that Peter liked the feeling of scenting and being scented. Stiles pulled back just far enough to kiss Peter, slow and sweet.

Off on the other side of the balcony, Noah was snapping pictures on his cell phone. Inside the restaurant, he had no doubt others were as well. They would make an official announcement this week, but the rumors would leak well ahead of then.

Bringing the ring box between them, Peter looked down at it. “Should we put these on now or wait until the wedding?” he asked.

“Oh my god the wedding,” Stiles said. “There’s going to be a wedding. I’m going to marry you.” He was grinning like an idiot at Peter, then looked over to where his dad stood, trying to pretend that he wasn’t crying. “Dad, I’m gonna marry this guy!” he called.

Noah laughed and waved a hand.

“Oh my god, he knew!” Stiles realized, gaping. He shoved at Peter’s shoulder. “Did you ask his permission for my hand in marriage?” he demanded.

Peter lifted his chin. “That’s a trick question, and I won’t respond to it.”

Stiles laughed, then looked down at the rings. “I want to put it on now,” he decided. “I think I’m gonna go crazy waiting to be married to you.”

The words hit Peter square in the chest. For a second, he could hardly breathe. He kissed Stiles again, nuzzling his cheek as they parted. “Come on,” he said, reaching down to separate the rings in the box. One was just slightly smaller than the other, for a slenderer finger. He picked it up and held it out for Stiles’s finger. It fit perfectly.

Stiles picked up the other and slid it on Peter’s finger, leaning up to kiss his cheek as he did. “I’m gonna marry you…” he murmured, a bit manically against his skin.

Finally, Stiles crossed the terrace to tackle his father in one of those all-out Stilinski-style hugs. Peter could hear the sheriff murmuring, “Congratulations, son. He’s a good one.” Then Noah was releasing Stiles and turning to him, holding his arms out. “Come on, then. You may a Hale, but you’re going to be a Stilinski, too. Stilinskis are huggers.”

—-

They drove back to the house with Stiles’s dad, though Peter’s personal driver and a bodyguard stuck close to their back bumper. Stiles sat up front with his dad and spent the whole drive gleefully grilling the both of them on how long they had been planning this behind his back.

Nothing looked amiss as they turned down their street, but the moment the front gate opened to let them in, Stiles whipped around in his seat with an accusing expression. Their driveway was lined with cars, many of which Stiles would recognize on sight.

“How many people did you tell about proposing!” he demanded.

Peter laughed and leaned forward to push on the side of Stiles’s head playfully. “I told them it was a graduation party, you idiot.”

“Oh. Right.” He looked back around at the cars, probably cataloging who he could expect to be here. “We get to tell them, though, right?”

“That’s the idea.”

The royal presence was relatively modest to start with – at least, as modest as it could get with two princesses and three princes in attendance. In any case, Peter hadn’t branched out into his extended family, except for a couple of cousins who lived locally and who he got on with well. His nieces and nephew had come, Laura hugely pregnant and Marco glued to her side, his protective instincts in overdrive. Peter had invited some business friends he’d met through the winery as well.

The rest were Stiles’s people. They were mostly around his age, high school friends and a few from college. Scott ran over to tackle Stiles in a hug the moment they stepped onto the terrace. The staff had done a spectacular job setting everything up in the short time they had been out. Lydia approached at a more sedate pace, strolling up with a plate of hors d’oeuvres balanced in a neatly manicured hand. Peter liked Lydia the best out of Stiles’s friends, though they had only met when she was back from MIT on vacation.

She waited for Scott to stop trying to squeeze the life out of Stiles before leaning in and pecking him on the cheek. “Happy graduation,” she praised. Lydia had graduated a year earlier and was now working on a graduate degree of startling complexity. Turning to Peter, she said, “And thank you again for the plane ticket – it was very sweet.”

“Of course,” Peter agreed.

“You bought her a plane ticket?” Stiles demanded, then spun back to Lydia, gesturing wildly. “You let him buy you a plane ticket?”

Lydia shrugged and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “He insisted.” Then, changing the subject, she reached out and snatched Stiles’s flailing left hand from the air. “Now why don’t you tell me what the hell that is.”

It figured she would be the first to notice the rings.

“Wait, woah, what?” Scott demanded, face splitting in a grin. “Dude!” He turned and called over his shoulder, “Hey, Allison!” waving her over.

Stiles groaned. “Oh my God, would you two shut up? We’re supposed to make an announcement. I don’t even have a drink yet.”

As if on cue, a waiter appeared at their sides with a tray of drinks, and Stiles snatched a pink-tinted glass of champagne from it. “That one’s the wolfsbane,” the waiter corrected gently. Stiles passed it to Peter, then reached for a glass of the yellowish bubbly.

“You thought I would serve sparkling rosé?” Peter asked, wrinkling his nose.

Stiles rolled his eyes, leaning against Peter’s shoulder, turning to Lydia and Scott as Allison came over. “He thinks rosé is a tacky bandwagon trend,” he explained.

“It’s only popular because Instagram models think it looks pretty,” Peter huffed.

“Oh my god, did you get engaged?” Allison blurted, a touch too loud, and every wolf in attendance wheeled around to look at them. A moment too late, she slapped a hand over her own mouth, mortified as she realized that she had blown the surprise.

Peter waved a hand at her. “That’s on us, I let him distract me,” he assured her. Next to him, Stiles was cracking up, face pressed against Peter’s shoulder. Peter sighed, wrapping an arm around Stiles’s middle. He raised his voice. “For those of you who didn’t hear, Stiles and I have an announcement to make,” he called out.

Stiles quelled his laughter, lifting his head and then snatching Peter’s left hand with his own. He raised them into the air. “We’re getting married!”

The next two hours of the party, Peter lost track of how many people they had talked to. There weren’t even that many people at the party, he didn’t think. By the time one person had finished congratulating them, another pair of lips were against his cheek or an arm around his shoulders.

“It’s a good thing we ate before we got here,” Stiles murmured against his ear. “I haven’t even gotten near the food.”

Peter kissed his temple and grabbed his hand, dragging Stiles toward one of the food tables. “Sorry, her future highness demands sustenance,” he joked to Marie, his Winemaking Director.

“I wasn’t demanding anything,” Stiles insisted with a laugh.

“You were about to,” Peter replied. He knew the progression of Stiles’s appetites. If he so much as mentioned food, it meant he was no more than ten minutes from devolving into a whiny, hangry mess. “Come on, what do you want? They made all your favorites.”

“Taquitos?” Stiles teased.

“All of your favorites that are fit to serve to guests,” Peter amended.

By the time he had a seventh bacon-wrapped water chestnut stuffed in his cheek, Stiles had fallen deep in conversation with Marco about his and Laura’s royal wedding experience. Peter hadn’t wandered far from Stiles, caught up in conversation with Lydia and Kira but keeping track of his fiance’s movements in the back of his mind. He didn’t notice Talia’s arrival so much as he noticed the sound of Stiles choking on his food.

He coughed and scrambled over to Peter’s side, hissing, “You didn’t warn me she was coming!”

Talia heard – of course she heard – and looked over at them with a smile. Peter lifted his hand in a wave, smiling sweetly, though he felt as thrown as Stiles looked. “I invited her,” he murmured through his teeth, “but since it was just a graduation party, I figured she wouldn’t make it. One of her brood must have texted her.”

The crowd parted for her like opposing magnets, repelled by her admittedly intimidating presence. Her Majesty wore a bold red business dress, a little out of place at a garden party, but he figured she hadn’t had enough notice to change. Lydia and Kira, even Marco, cleared out to give her unfettered access to the guests of honor.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” she said, stopping a respectable distance away. If they had done this in private, she would have hugged them both, been exuberant and happy for them. In front of this many unknown people, she had to maintain her stoic alpha veneer.

“You heard right,” Stiles answered, holding his hand out to show the ring.

Talia took his hand, using it to pull him in close enough to press her cheek to his, a more affectionate greeting than she had given him in public ever before. Stiles looked elated when she pulled away to give Peter the same greeting. “Congratulations to you both. Stiles, we’re very excited to have you in the family,” she assured him, and the tone was genuine, though Peter could hear the underlying anxiety. No doubt her political wheels were already churning with the potential fallout.

They made polite small-talk for a while. Peter hated talking to his sister in public like this, when she knew others could be listening in. Everything stayed surface-level, unemotional, stiff. It made him feel, sometimes, like she didn’t care about him at all, even if his logical brain knew better. She asked about the proposal. She asked if they had thought about timing yet, which they hadn’t. She offered the use of the royal events planner, which Peter had already assumed was a given.

Then, as if it were just another innocuous question, she smiled at Stiles and said, “And do you think you’ll want the bite after the wedding?”

Stiles froze, and Peter could hear his heart hammering, the sour scent of anxiety spiking.

Peter placed a hand on Stiles’s lower back, trying to steady him. He wanted to snap at Talia, scold her for asking that sort of question in this setting, on this day, for asking at all. He wanted to call it out as a rude fucking question, but he had no idea if it was. There really wasn’t a prescribed etiquette for a royal marrying a human. They just weren’t supposed to in the first place.

After what felt like an eternity, Stiles found his voice. It came out quiet, though, a little shaky. “Um, no. I… thank you, but I don’t want that.”

Talia’s expression moved in ways so minute that nobody but immediate family could have picked up on it. She recognized, Peter knew, that she had upset Stiles.

Peter gave her a coldly polite smile. “We are very glad you could make it,” he said. “I know it wasn’t on your agenda for the day. I hope you didn’t have to detour too far.”

She took the out, turning fully to Peter. “Oh, not at all. I was just on my way to a meeting in the city here. I should probably be heading that way, though. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer.” If anyone noticed the awkwardness of her exit, they didn’t say anything.

Once she was gone, Peter turned and took both of Stiles’s hands in his own. “I love you,” he breathed, voice soft and just for Stiles. “I love you exactly as you are.”

Stiles let out an unsteady breath and nodded. He pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes.

—-

Peter swore, checking his coat pockets, then his laptop bag, then the dining room table, for the third time. Finally, he headed upstairs to the bedroom. “Stiles? Could you call my -”

He stopped in the doorway at the sight that greeted him. Stretched out face-down on the bed, still in his pajamas, Stiles lie with a pillow hugged under his chest, face pressed into the sheets. It was a Stiles position of deep distress, one of the most distressed of his library of absurd positions.

“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” he asked, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. He nearly sat on Stiles’s tablet, then picked it up and turned the screen on.

Gold Digger Stiles Strikes It Rich

Peter’s hand tightened on the edge of the tablet, but he quelled the surge of rage before he could snap the stupid thing in half. He closed out the window, then set the tablet aside. “You know nobody that matters thinks that, right?” he asked softly, rubbing a hand over Stiles’s back.

Stiles’s shoulders lifted in a shrug.

“Stiles,” Peter admonished. “Do I think that? Does my family think that? My family adores you.”

“Talia thought I wanted the bite,” Stiles said into the mattress.

Peter sighed. “She shouldn’t have made the offer when she did,” he said firmly, “and I can assure you she didn’t offer because she thought you were only with me to get it. If anything, that was her own selfish hope of avoiding the mixed marriage.”

Stiles rolled onto his side to face Peter, still hugging his pillow. “I hate that I care about that shit. I told myself I wasn’t going to care about it, I told myself I didn’t give a shit what the vultures said, but.. but, fuck, why don’t they like me?”

“Like has nothing to do with it, Stiles,” he said softly, scooting closer so he could pet Stiles’s hair. “They’re just out to get attention and sell subscriptions.”

“They didn’t do this to Marco,” Stiles argued. “Marco wears a flashy pocket square and, oh, hey, everyone, pocket squares are in this season! Everyone go get yourself a new pocket square!” He waved his hands in front of the pillow theatrically. “I wear a tie that doesn’t match Talia’s hat and I’m trying to tear apart royal society with my bare hands.”

Peter moved up to the head of the bed, tugging Stiles up to sit curled against his chest. “It’s homophobia,” he said, not about to beat around the bush on the matter. “It’s specism.”

“It’s bullshit,” Stiles muttered, nuzzling into Peter’s chest. He’d worn a silk shirt for an early meeting with a wine exporter. Stiles held out his left hand, staring down at the ring on his finger. “I’m supposed to be happy right now. I’m supposed to be fucking, like, floating on the air, happy about getting engaged and getting married and instead I see one stupid article like that, and I just…”

Wrapping his arms around Stiles tightly, Peter said, “I know.” He kissed the top of his head. “You think I don’t know? There can be a hundred positive articles, and the one that sticks in your head is the nasty one. I went through this when I came out – you know I did. I don’t read the papers anymore, and do you know why?”

Huffing, because Peter had already told him a hundred times not to read the tabloids, Stiles looked up at him. “Because you’ll just drive yourself crazy?”

Peter kissed his forehead. “No. Because you told me not to.”

A little furrow appeared between Stiles’s brows. “When?”

“The night we met.” Peter rubbed his thumb over the furrow. “You made me promise that when I came out, I would kick anyone to the curb that wasn’t a delight about it. And, you know, the press was not a delight about it.”

Stiles stared up at him, a smile slowly fighting its way through the pout on his face. He groaned. “God, stop throwing my own good advice back at me. It’s annoying.” He sat up a little and nuzzled into Peter’s neck. He nipped at the skin there, just a tease. “I love you,” he muttered, as if thoroughly inconvenienced by the fact.

“Even when I get on your nerves?” Peter prompted.

Twisting in his arms, Stiles straddled him and kissed his lips. “Especially then.”

They made out for a long while, lazily shedding their clothes until Stiles sat bare in his lap, a hand wrapped loosely around both of their cocks while Peter pumped two fingers into his ass. Stiles pulled away with a shuddering breath that usually meant he was too distracted to focus on kissing anymore. Peter wrapped his free hand around the back of Stiles’s neck, keeping him close so their noses pressed together.

“How do you want to come?” Peter asked, voice low. He curled his fingers, and Stiles arched his back with a whine.

“Like this,” Stiles decided, rocking back against his hand and stroking them a little faster. “I wanna come like this, then I want you to come on my face.”

Peter ducked to press kisses along Stiles’s throat, working down to scrape teeth along his collarbone, then finally bit at one of his nipples. Stiles leaned back, his free hand braced on the bed between Peter’s legs as he rode his fingers.

“Yes, yes, yes. Fuck, Peter. Fuck, m’gonna -” His voice broke off as he came with a shiver, hand still stroking the both of them, using his come as lube now.

Once he had come down, Peter nudged him onto his back and crawled over him, straddling his chest. “You made a mess of me, darling,” he purred. “Are you going to clean it up?”

Stiles stretched his arms over his head. “I’m royalty now, I don’t have to clean.”

Peter gave him an exasperated look. “You know, for a future trophy husband, your bedroom talk could use some work,” he teased.

“Fuck my face?” Stiles offered, batting his lashes.

“Better,” Peter conceded. He dragged the head of his cock over Stiles’s lower lip. “Lazy, but better.”

“Lazy!” Stiles huffed. “Excuse you, I am catering to your alpha male instincts. I am alluringly vulnerable. I have -”

“Stiles?”

“Yes?”

“Arguing is for foreplay, and I can’t fuck your mouth while you’re talking.”

Stiles scowled at him, but he opened his mouth wide and dragged his tongue along the underside of Peter’s cockhead. With a grin, Peter leaned forward onto his hands and knees and slipped into the soft heat of Stiles’s mouth. He rocked his hips down in slow, uneven thrusts so Stiles could never be quite sure how much he was going to get. Finally, Stiles tightened his lips around him, moaned, and sucked. Peter’s knees nearly gave out, which would probably have resulted in a very difficult to explain injury for Stiles.

Peter continued thrusting shallowly, groaning and dropping down onto an elbow. With one hand freed up, he stroked Stiles’s hair, tugging lightly and winning an answering moan. “God, you feel incredible,” he murmured. He could feel his body tightening, nearly at the edge. When he couldn’t hold off any longer, Peter sat up again. He slipped out of Stiles’s mouth and started jerking himself over his face with short, quick strokes.

“Fuck yeah, please. Mark me up. Make me smell like you,” Stiles encouraged, stroking Peter’s thighs with both hands. Peter came with a low moan, watching as he streaked Stiles’s face with white.

Before his legs could really give out, Peter shifted and dropped onto his back on the bed, the opposite direction of Stiles, so his head was next to Stiles’s hip.

After a moment, Stiles swatted at his abdomen. “Peter, it’s in my eyelashes. Get a washcloth.”

Peter looked down and saw that, yes, Stiles had come in his eyelashes. “I don’t know,” he mused. “That look is really catering to my alpha male instincts.”

“Oh my god, I hate you.”

“It’s alluringly vulnerable,” he continued.

“You’re literally the worst. I’ll wipe my face on the bedspread. Mrs. Larson will poison us both.”

Peter laughed and sat up, leaning over to kiss Stiles’s lips. “Alright, alright.”

“Lazy,” Stiles huffed as Peter ventured into the en suite bathroom for a washcloth. “Is that any way to speak to your betrothed?”

“I call it like I see it,” Peter called back over the sound of the water as he wet the cloth. He walked back in and found Stiles hadn’t moved at all. He knelt on the bed and carefully dabbed at Stiles’s eyes, then wiped the rest of his face with the same soft touch.

Stiles blinked his eyes open and stared up at Peter, expression a little dreamy. He got that way sometimes, in between the joking and bickering. He looked at Peter like he never wanted to look at anything else.

“You know, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” Peter murmured.

“I know,” he agreed. Stiles caught him by the wrist, pulling the cloth from his hand before lifting Peter’s hand to his mouth. He kissed each knuckle, then rubbed his face against them. “I’ve been thinking about colors,” he said, “for the wedding.”

Peter settled next to him on the bed. “Tell me.”