#especially to innocent bystanders

[b3achysurfur]

ngl seeing ppl who hate me talk ab me is so funny . WHY ARE YALL HC ME AS ABLEIST WTF!!??

[grimm-the-tiger]

Reading about media reactions vs social media reactions to the Titanic submersible is simultaneously hilarious and makes you want to interrogate the next journalist you come across on their reading comprehension. Newspapers were getting SO MAD that people were making fun of the deaths of five rich guys on a sub. But, like, first off: they chose to be there. You don’t hear people bemoaning the tragedy of the people who died on Everest because they knew what they were doing was dangerous and entirely unnecessary. Second, the CEO was basically asking for trouble. His death was less of a tragedy and more of a nomination for the Darwin Award. He literally said, AND I QUOTE, 

“At some point, safety just is pure waste.” 

Which ties into the third thing, which is that the US and Canadian governments spent far too long looking for five rich guys on a submersible when less than a week earlier a boat full of immigrants sank off the coast of Greece and NO ONE GAVE A SHIT. The media certainly didn’t seem to care, but they swarmed the Titan implosion like a pack of wolves. So, I dunno, maybe the “lack of empathy” we showed towards the wreck of the Titan had nothing to do with people on the Internet being assholes and everything to do with double-standards and the fact that we’re footing the bill for rich people’s stupidity with both our own money and our lives. Hell, I’d even argue WE weren’t the ones showing a lack of empathy. 

[dreamingofstarslight]

Something i feel like gives ppl insight to who i am as a person is:

If i hear, read, see whatever the words “i dont condone violence” ill cut it off immediately and be like “i do” and its bc i do

[sunderwight]

scum villain fairytale AU where every night, the beautiful yet cruel peak lord Shen Qingqiu transforms from his regal self into modern nerd Shen Yuan (complete with physical and wardrobe changes).

to keep the secret of his transformations, Shen Qingqiu has taken to locking himself up at night. so every night for the past few weeks, Shen Yuan has awakened to find himself chained and kept prisoner in the bamboo house. since he can't ask anyone, he has no idea that he turns back into someone else come morning, he just thinks he's being drugged or something and that this is his entire transmigration experience -- a prisoner of someone he never sees or interacts with, presumably being fed and bathed while he's unconscious somehow since he hasn't died and doesn't stink, who also hasn't seen sunlight since all of this began.

anyway one day Shen Qingqiu gets distracted and doesn't do the chains up properly (qi deviation issues most likely), and Shen Yuan manages to escape just before dawn. he doesn't completely get away because Shen Qingqiu did set up a last ditch imprisonment array that teleports Shen Yuan back into the house before he can leave the property line, but he gets outside and he calls for help.

disciple Luo Binghe (out early because he got sent to do nine million chores all night and didn't sleep to begin with) sees this thin and obviously frightened young man (in chains!) break out of his master's house and plea for assistance, only to be swallowed up by what looks like some kind of sinister magical effect and vanish.

curiosity piqued, the next night, Luo Binghe masters some of his fear of his harsh shizun and sneaks over to the bamboo house. it takes a few nights more for him to actually work up the nerve to actually peek into one of the windows.

to his astonishment, he sees the young man obviously being held captive inside. what's going on? is it a demon? but then, why would Shen Qingqiu hold him captive instead of just killing him? Luo Binghe is still barely young enough to want to give his cruel master some benefit of the doubt, out of hope for his own prospects if nothing else, but this seems pretty fucked up. especially since the chained man is so pretty, and so scantily clad (shorts and t-shirt)...

anyway, Shen Yuan notices Binghe and starts calling out to him for help. but this frightens Luo Binghe off, because he doesn't know that Shen Qingqiu won't hear and come running. he feels badly though and eventually does go back, and after Shen Yuan assures him that no matter how he screams or begs for help he's sure no one will come (until Binghe, no one ever has), Luo Binghe cautiously stays put and starts talking to him. after a while the young disciple can only conclude that his master must be going down the mountain to spend his nights at the brothels. no one has seen him leave for such trips in months, but he must have discovered a way to do so more secretively.

Shen Yuan has figured out since long ago that he transmigrated, although he doesn't know the setting, so he knows he can't entirely explain his situation to this random teenager. he also knows that there's a chance -- though it seems remote -- that the boy has something to do with his captivity, and isn't just the innocent bystander he seems to be. but with little to loose he's more inclined to trust and hope that this might give him an opportunity to escape.

meanwhile Luo Binghe is still cautious that this strange man might be a demon of some kind, or a trap or test on Shen Qingqiu's part, so he doesn't give his real name or tell Shen Yuan anything about the sect. gradually he becomes convinced of Shen Yuan's sincerity, even though he still doesn't dare go against Shen Qingqiu or actually set foot inside the house.

time passes, and Luo Binghe's visits become more regular. despite the lack of rescue, even just having someone to talk to is such a massive improvement that Shen Yuan doesn't complain. before long he gets the impression that this boy's situation isn't even much better than his own, as he is constantly sporting some bruise or visible injury or another, and offhandedly describes a lot of treatment that sounds frankly horrific as if he thinks it's simply normal. he figures he's in a cultivation setting and some kind of sect, though, and after a while he begins imparting tips and tricks and whatever he can think of to fill the silence with his mystery visitor.

this is eventually how he figures out that he's trapped in the world of PIDW, even if he doesn't quite figure out where or who with yet. because Luo Binghe describes some aspects of cultivation that would only apply to that hack job the author made of cultivation systems. which is a good thing because it lets Shen Yuan offer more specific advice, and also begin to try and make plans.

if he's imprisoned by cultivators, then one day Luo Binghe will probably arrive as part of his eradication of the sects. maybe Shen Yuan can beg mercy from him?

this becomes such an important fantasy that Shen Yuan begins to describe it to his little visitor, playing it off that he sometimes gets "visions" (and trying to help the poor kid some more, given that both of them are in danger in a stallion novel where no man is liable to live long in the protagonist's orbit).

at first Luo Binghe thinks that Shen Yuan has somehow figured out who he is, when the man begins to tell him stories of some great person of destiny who has the same name as him. but by then he's hooked so even though it's risky, he still keeps going back to the bamboo house at night, and after a few weeks he concludes that Shen Yuan really doesn't seem to realize that the name of his imagined demon emperor has anything to do with his visitor. he even describes Luo Binghe's own background and troubles to him, but offhandedly, as if he is just picking up loose details about someone else from a story or dream. even when Shen Yuan observes that the Luo Binghe of his stories has some similarities to the Luo Binghe outside the window, his does this in such a way that it just seems to emphasize that he has no idea that these "visions" he's started having are connected to his visitor. or that the villain Shen Qingqiu he describes is in fact his captor.

Luo Binghe guesses that these visions might be the reason Shen Qingqiu has locked Shen Yuan away. perhaps he is some kind of magical creature, if not a demon, and cultivators can benefit from stealing energy or blood or... other unsavory things from him, although Luo Binghe doesn't think Shen Yuan's predictions sound very accurate. he's still trying to figure it out when, in fact, one of those predictions comes true.

Shen Qingqiu declares that he's going into seclusion, and disappears into the lingxi caves. with him he takes a large box (big enough to hold a man and with vents on the sides), that he moves and handles himself, even though secluded cultivation doesn't usually call for a lot of luggage. from the box, just faintly, Luo Binghe imagines he hears the clink of chains. (Shen Qingqiu plans to lock himself into it every night.)

that night, when Luo Binghe goes to the bamboo house, he finds it completely empty. it's empty again the next night, too, no matter which windows he approaches. as the nights drag on he even grows bold enough to break into the bamboo house, but there's nobody inside.

Shen Qingqiu must have taken his prisoner with him into the caves. Luo Binghe cannot think of a reason to do that which is not nefarious, and he struggles to sleep each night, imagining terrible things that his cruel master could be doing to Shen Yuan as part of his efforts to improve his own cultivation. he can only pray that none of it proves fatal.

being locked in a box at night is pretty bad, but luckily one of the corners was kind of shoddily made, so Shen Yuan manages to get out of it after the second night. he's still chained and he can't leave the circle of an array Shen Qingqiu set up, but the cave is at least a change of scenery. Shen Yuan even feels inspired to attempt some cultivating of his own, although he worries that he's been moved to this weird place because someone caught his little visitor coming to the window, and he hopes that if so, no one has punished the boy (he knows that's a slim hope, given the kind of micro infractions his visitor has apparently been beaten over).

of course, there's a rampaging Liu Qingge qi deviating in the caves, so Shen Yuan gets to deal with that. Liu Qingge thinks he's having some kind of lingering fever dream when he gets rescued by some weird pervert at night, only to come to his senses and find he's being berated by a wild-eyed Shen Qingqiu instead.

Shen Qingqiu is not happy that Liu Qingge's rampage put him in proximity with his incredibly pathetic werewolf curse, the only relief is that the idiot seemed to be too out-of-his head from a qi deviation to remember most of it. and also apparently his "other self" saved the man's life, which Shen Qingqiu is just going to attribute to dumb luck. Shen Qingqiu is 100% convinced that this curse he's under is designed to get him killed or disgraced.

meanwhile, despite his fears about Shen Yuan's state, Luo Binghe does remember that the man told him about a demon attack that followed Shen Qingqiu going into seclusion. he's not sure what to expect, but somehow he isn't as surprised as he should be when Sha Hualing and her goon squad turn up. he is grimly terrified when the fighting tournament starts, and he sees the demon who matches the description of the one he's meant to fight and he can't imagine that working out in his favor... but Shen Yuan was perfectly adamant that despite the difficulty, Luo Binghe would win.

if he wins, does that mean the rest of it comes true? that Luo Binghe is a half heavenly demon, that he will one day become the strongest person alive, emperor of the three realms and owner of the largest harem ever to exist? the one person Shen Yuan seems to think might rescue him from his prison?

the idea of it (well, some of it) gets Luo Binghe through his fight. and then of course Meng Mo shows up, and Shen Yuan is pulled into the subsequent dream and figures out who is "mysterious visitor" really is and is kind of like, oh shit I gave Luo Binghe spoilers about his own destiny. shit. well. done is done...?

Luo Binghe is alright with most of it though. the Abyss sounds deeply unpleasant and he doesn't actually want any wives (so many nights spying on Shen Yuan lounging around in barely nothing and some chains have definitely led to some epiphanies on his part), but if Shen Yuan says he can survive it, he believes him.

and then he will rescue Shen Yuan. after the Abyss he's also completely sold on ruining and killing Shen Qingqiu too. there are no downsides and this plan cannot possibly go awry!

[rainrot4me]

Just Relax

Summary: You’re stressed. Jack knows how to fix that.

Characters: Eyeless Jack x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: First time, stress relief, using orgasms as a way to relieve stress, teaching, inexperience, virgin, cunnilingus, blowjob, bad blowjob, grinding, tip fucking, vaginal, kinda creampie, Jack's a gentle giant, service top, claws, mentions of blood, mentions of gunshots, bullet wounds (not smut related), injury

Words: 5.8k

Being the only other medically intelligent resident in the mansion intensified your job.

Slender partnered you with Jack, the tall brooding organ-eating demon that spent most of his time either in his medical lab in the basement or face-deep in someone’s intestines. It was charming, really. 

Your jobs were to patch up the proxies and keep them running, their missions being insanely more dangerous than the average creep and constantly landing them on Jack’s workbench. You were tasked with helping the demon: holding wounds closed, getting his supplies, or even rounding some innocent bystander up for his dinner. You were always on the move, always completing some requests. And it was seriously taking a toll. 

You were becoming restless, your body always aching and your mind never quiet from the constant stress you faced. You tried to hide it, but as the bags under your eyes grew from the lack of good sleep, it became harder to put on a good face. Especially around the demon who ordered your every move. 

So when Jack occasionally got restless and left you in his lab to go hunt, you usually would spend the time tidying up or catching a quick nap. But when a bloodied Tim stumbled down the basement steps and through the door, heaving from exhaustion, you panicked. 

The tall brunette stumbled into your arms, coughing loudly as you tugged him to the medical table and laid him down, his jacket dark with blood and dirt. He had been shot, twice in the gut, it looked like. You grit your teeth, tugging his jacket and shirt off as you carefully watch his face, his eyes already beginning to flutter shut. Shit. Where the hell was Jack?! It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to do, it was just that Jack was more familiar with these things. You were just an assistant. But you had no choice, curse the demon and his greedy tongue. 

You pulled the medical tray towards you, the metal pan littered with different tools you were familiar with. You grabbed a cloth, dousing it with sterile alcohol and wiping Tim’s gut, forcing his chest down as he hissed against the sting. You had to be quick, there was no telling how long the poor guy was hauling himself here and bleeding out quickly. After cleaning his skin, more blood gushed, but you were finally able to tell where the entrance holes were. “Just hold on.” You grit, grabbing the long tweezers from the tray and focusing, pressing your arm against Tim’s chest as you slowly sink the cold prongs into the wound. The large man cried out, fists clenching the soft padding of the table as you prodded for the bullet, pushing deeper until you felt an abnormality lodged deep into his skin. You were way too shaky for this, your unsteady hands likely to tear his wound further as you pinched the small bullet and unlodged it from his gut. You needed Jack, now.

And like a god-sent, you heard loud boots stomping down the wooden stairs, a tall figure emerging through the open door as you dropped the bloody bullet onto the tray. “[Y/N]? What’s all this blood- oh shit.” Jack’s monotone voice muffled behind his mask, his head instantly snapping to you as you turned to him, panicked and hands covered in Tim’s blood. 

The demon was quick, grabbing the tweezers from your hand and pressing over the bleeding man, doing a much better job of retrieving the second bullet as you slid to his side, offering your help as always. He popped the tiny metal onto the tray, quickly grabbing disinfectant and eyeing you as he returned to the bloody scene, trying his best not to apologize right now.

-

Before you knew it Tim was back upstairs asleep in his bed, his torso wrapped in clean bandages and veins full of liquid painkillers. The procedure went by quickly after Jack arrived, making quick work of getting the man cleaned up after his latest mission. You sat at Jack’s desk, face hidden in your hands as you finally caught your breath, fingers still stained with his blood. The demon leaned awkwardly against the edge of the table, mask long discarded on the now clean table now that you were in the privacy of each other. Jack had stopped using his mask around you long ago when he realized you would be together every day, pushing past his instincts and accepting your presence wholeheartedly. He appreciated the help more than you knew. 

“I’m sorry…” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched you, palms rubbing your tired eyes as you looked up, but not at him. “It’s fine.” You wanted to accept his apology, but your angry sleep-deprived brain wouldn’t let you, a snarky response being all that you could offer. Jack could hear your irritation, cringing to himself as crossed his arms, looking down to the floor. “Like, seriously. That was completely me. I sho-” 

“I said it’s fine, Jack.” You cut him off, huffing as you pushed off the desk and began picking up random trash around the lab. You refused to look at him as you tried to occupy yourself, begging your angry tongue not to attack him further. But Jack, being himself, pushed further, begging for your forgiveness. “But it’s not. I mean, how can I make it up to you?” He pushed, circling in front of you and reaching for your shoulders, the demon easily towering over you as you strained your neck to look up at him. “You can’t, okay?” You snarled, pushing off of him and tossing random syringe packets into the trash, slipping away from him. You were fuming, unreasonably, but you couldn’t help it as you breathed quickly, face growing hot. You were becoming overstimulated, your hair pressing too close against your neck, this room suddenly becoming way too cramped, and your head just hurting, begging for you to just lay down. 

Jack crossed his arms, sitting back against the medical table as he watched you stomp around, his knee tapping worriedly. “But-” Just hearing his voice was beginning to make you mad, his need to apologize becoming so whiney in your mind. “Listen, Jack. I don’t fuckin’ need your sorry, okay? What I need is to be left alone. I’m stressed out of my mind, alright?” You snapped, shoulders tense and hands flinging with every word. Jack just watched quietly, his dark sockets staring blankly at your red face. He knew you were stressed, how could he not? But he also knew this was the result of days of suppressing that stress, refusing to acknowledge just how overwhelmed you were until you got to this point, your words moving faster than your mind could stop. He didn’t take it to heart, it was all emotional and he knew that. But what he did do was push further, despite your anger. 

“Then why don’t you rest? Like, take the day off or just take a minute. I don’t know, have a shot or something.” You leaned back against Jack’s desk, rubbing your face as you groaned, your head pounding. “You don’t think I’ve tried? Can’t catch a wink of sleep because my mind won’t just stop. I’ve been on a high drive all week.” You whined, tears pricking your eyes as the demon watched you, brows knitting as you wiped your eyelids. He thought quietly, sockets studying you annoyingly as you wiped your hair from your face, irritation growing when he wouldn’t look away.

“Have you tried masturbating?” For a second, you really couldn’t tell if your ears were working right, convinced you were still in shock as you glared at him. What the fuck kind of question was that? Thinking he was joking, you laughed dryly, rolling your eyes. “Very funny, Jack.” But he wasn’t laughing, his face dead serious as he arched a brow expectantly. That’s when your face grew hot, cheeks growing a darker tint until you forced yourself to look away, avoiding his piercing gaze. You screwed your eyes shut, embarrassed. You hadn’t, but you felt like he had already come to that conclusion as he pushed off of the table, stepping closer to you and making your breath hitch. He tilted his head, arms crossed tightly as he strained the answer out of you.

“No, okay? I don’t have time for that shit. And besides, I wouldn’t even know how.” Such trivial things had never crossed your list of wants when you were working under Slender. You had more important things to worry about like completing missions or saving someone’s life. Touching yourself hadn’t really crossed your mind. 

Jack scoffed, his hands uncurling to rest against his hips. “What? You mean like, you don’t know how to jerk off?” It was embarrassing when the demon said it out loud, your eyes screwing shut and cheeks hot before him. But he only stepped closer, his tall stature suffocating you. You shook your head, refusing to look up. “Why would I need to? I’m not some dog in heat.” 

That one struck harder than you meant for it to. You were all too familiar with Jack’s seasonal heat cycles, his demon instincts overriding his thoughts a couple of times a year and driving him to seclusion for a week or so. Those were the times you hated the most when he wasn’t around, wasn’t there to guide you during a procedure or appreciate your efforts. So when you looked up at him, fearful that he was going to go off on you for your careless insult, you were surprised to see his face so calm. 

“Yeah, you need to jerk off.” He smiled, a little teasing in his voice as you scowled. “Listen, orgasms are good for relieving stress. So, if you’re going to keep working, you either need to learn how, or let me help you.” His words felt like a joke, but his face was so sincere you had to readjust, your stomach tightening with butterflies. He couldn’t be serious, help you? 

But as his gray-blue claws rested on his hips, head tilted to stare at you below him, you couldn’t help but squirm. He was looming closer, his jagged smile teasing but earnest as your face became hot. This was embarrassing, letting practically your boss coerce you into letting him get you off. You wanted to say no, to fight him off and persevere by yourself. But when the flutters in your stomach turned to throbbing between your thighs, you groaned, giving up. 

“Fine. But… I don’t know what I’m doing. Like, I’ve never done anything like this before.” You mumbled, pushing off the wall and standing inches from him, straining your neck to look at his toothy grin. “It’s okay, pet. I’ll be gentle.” 

Pressing his claw behind your back, he guided you to the medical table, pushing you to the end. You panicked slightly when he scooped under your armpits and picked you up easily, setting you on the edge so you were level with his chest. You wanted to stop, the sudden closeness making you overwhelmed, but when his claws rested on your hips, you tensed. “Relax.” He cooed, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against your cheek. You were speechless.

Your friendship with Jack was close, and your mutual understanding of how difficult both of your lives were plus the forced proximity made it easier to become quick friends. But as his warm lips pressed down your jaw to your neck so comfortably, you questioned everything you thought you knew about the two of you. He was eager, but soft, nipping against your skin as you tilted your neck, gasping softly as goosebumps ran over you. He was nudged between your legs, his short hair tickling your ear as his claws gripped you tight, holding your hips down. You couldn’t help but rest your hands on his shoulders, pushing back slightly as he moved to the other side of your neck, little red spots appearing everywhere he nipped with his fangs. 

“Jack…” He smiled, letting off your neck and pecking your cheek again, leaning back to look at you. Your face was hot, cheeks dark and flustered, but he thought you looked cute. You, however, had your thoughts running a mile a minute, confused but oh so excited as his claws slipped under the hem of your shirt. Jack could smell your arousal and it made him hungry, so rarely, for something other than guts. 

“Shh, lean back.” He hummed, slipping your shirt up and off your head and making you whine. Placing your hands behind you, you leaned back, stunned when he slipped his nails into your shorts and tugged them down your thighs, purring at the sight of your panties. You couldn’t believe he was actually serious, slipping the fabric off your ankles and tossing them to the ground, hands quick to reach your hips again. You placed your hands on his chest, holding him back from attacking your neck again. “You don't have to do this. I’ll be fine.” You grit, eyes nervously flickering between his face and his crotch pressed so closely between your legs. He just smiled, rubbing your waist. “This is for you. If you’re going to keep working, I need you in good condition. Just relax, pet.” He cooed, pushing back against your chest so you lay on the padded table, feet dangling. You were practically vibrating, unsure of exactly how to lay or move so you just gripped the leather awkwardly, watching the demon run his claws over your thighs.

“I need you to talk to me. Don’t let me overwhelm you.” He said sternly, hooking under your panties and tugging them down, your legs instinctively clutching together. “Too late.” You whined, pushing your hands down to cover yourself as you breathed heavily. Jack only chuckled, gripping your wrists gently and pulling them to your sides as he kneeled. You watched him nervously, his face now even with your closed thighs as he pushed your knees apart, checking your expressions. The demon knew you needed this, knew you were excited. He just needed to show you to let go. 

Spreading your legs despite your protests, Jack scooped his arms under your thighs, tugging you closer to him until he was inches from your pretty cunt. He breathed deep, sighing at the sweet scent of your excitement that coaxed him closer. His dark sockets never moved from your panicked face, sitting up slightly as you watched his lips smile, your eyes wide. This was insane. But before another desperate attempt to get him to rethink this left your lips, one of Jack’s dark, long tongues licked a thick stripe between your folds. Your back hits the leather immediately, a shaken gasp slipping through as you tense your thighs closer. Jack’s strong arms held them apart just fine, chuckling to himself as he watched your pupils blow wide. His tongue was so warm and slick, his thick saliva running through your lips and making you shudder. “Jack-”

He was already back again, long tongue running flat up your cunt and flicking on your clit. Your gasp was ragged, fingernails digging into the padding underneath as you craned your neck to see the demon. Jack was staring at you, the corners of his open mouth twitched up to a smile as he flicked the tip of his tongue against your already twitching clit. The feeling was so unfamiliar, so odd but so heavenly. He seemed so skilled, so eager to tug the little sounds out of you as he dove deeper, your bottom lip slipping into your teeth. 

“You alright, pet?” He mumbled, tongue quick to lick a thick stripe between your folds again, pressing a soft kiss against your soaked lips and giving you a moment to breathe. His claws were kneading the softness of your thighs, his thumb rubbing against your burning skin. Were you alright? Your breathing was heavy, quick and sharp as you stared at him, cheeks hot and flushed. You were nervous, your body unsure of what it was even feeling, but you knew you needed more. More of whatever his delicious tongue was offering. 

So, you nodded, leaning back but keeping your head up, watching nervously as he kissed your inner thighs softly. He smiled again, kissing his way back down to your folds and sliding his tongue out again, spreading the lips around his warm tongue. You groaned, biting your lip as you tried to contain the noises that dared to get louder, unaware that you could even make sure vulgar sounds. Jack was back to flicking against your clit again, eyelids heavy as he relished in the way you fought yourself. You were so desperate to contain what he knew you needed to let out, so he slid deeper, his long tongue slipping against your tight entrance. 

You panicked slightly, stomach clenching when you felt him press against your hole. He didn’t move, eyes trained as you gripped the leather, your face hot and heavy. Your thighs threatened to close, Jack’s claws digging slightly to keep them apart but not pulling farther. Your clit was throbbing, aching from the loss of the demon’s tongue but alive with the new sensation. He blinked at you, reading every expression as he dared further, the tip of his thick tongue slipping inside of your cunt. At the sensation, you didn’t expect your hips to jerk, legs tensing as he pressed inside, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Jack held you close, your tight entrance accepting the warm intrusion as you clenched and throbbed. It was so unfamiliar, but so warm, so filling. 

The further his tongue pressed in the faster your hands slid down to run through his brown hair. You gripped tight, tugging lightly as his lips pressed flush against your folds, his eyelids fluttering shut as he soaked in your warmth. You tasted heavenly, your arousal thick around his tongue as he breathed deep, letting you adjust. His tongue contoured easily through your cunt, rubbing gently against your gummy walls until your hips were squirming, begging for movement. You couldn’t even explain your movements, your body taking control and guiding itself against him. But when Jack’s thick tongue eventually curled against your warmth, lapping at your ecstasy, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. 

“Jack!” It came out ragged, like you were gasping for air that was being stolen with every curl. You tugged against the demon’s hair, his groans vibrating against your cunt and making you whine louder. It was too much. The unfamiliar stretch, the warmth, and even his noises were making you lose yourself. “Ahn- Oh my… Oh my God-” You moaned loudly, your resistance thinning with every pull of his long tongue. Your body twitched against him, your hips stuttering and grinding uncontrollably. His thumb still brushed against your thigh, that one constant keeping you aware the deeper he probed his tongue. Your back arched off the table, unsure if you were trying to pull away from him or angle him deeper, but he moved with you. 

The wet schlick of his tongue tugging in and out of your tight cunt made you groan, eyes screwed shut. You were so overwhelmed, but Jack was quick to read you, quick to adjust his speed the louder you got and bring you back down to a comfortable pace. Your lightheadedness appreciated that, your cunt slick and gummy as your arousal built, his lips becoming soaked. But Jack was in heaven. You tasted so good, so unexplainably good that he couldn’t dare remove his tongue. Your arousal was so sweet, but so sour in his mouth, his groans vibrating against your cunt. But it was pooling now, building heavily. He knew you were close, so he curled harder. 

“Jack, I- Ah! I think I’m gonna- gonna cum…” You mewled, his grinding down against his mouth as you tugged his hair closer, pressing his head deeper between your thighs. You were so sweaty, so hot and overwhelmed, but you couldn’t stop. There was a thick knot in your abdomen, your arousal peaking louder. Jack grumbled, nodding his head lazily as his eyelids tightened, focused on reaching deeper and tasting more of you until your body couldn’t resist anymore.

You came hard. It was such an unfamiliar sensation, your entire body wracking and tensing itself, a sharp moan crying from your lips. You leaned forward, Jack quick to adjust and pull your hips up so he could drink up every inch of you that spilt onto his tongue nestled so deeply inside of you. You were crying out, your fingers gripping his hair so tightly you were afraid you’d rip it from his scalp, but Jack could only moan. “Fuck- Fuck!” Your thighs were shaking, the demon’s large claws gripping tighter so he could relish in the feeling of his tongue being squeezed by your throbbing cunt as you rode out your orgasm. Your breathing was loud, your cheeks hot as you panted and strained against the tongue still nestled inside. You waited for him to slip out, but he never did, his tongue still prodding against your soaked walls. 

The demon’s eyelids eventually opened, his cheeks dark as he held you close, his lips swollen against your folds. You were so stunning, every inch of your burning skin glowing under your ecstasy as he slipped another tongue out of his mouth. It slid against your folds, just as thick and long as the first one but finding a new direction as you whined loudly. He wasn’t done with you yet, he couldn’t be, not when your body called to him so desperately. So his second tongue flicked against your clit the same way he did before, pitching the tiny cries and whines out of you he loved to hear. You were quick to react, your body still sensitive but desperate to chase that high again as you jerked against his tongue, hips stuttering even harder. Jack didn’t go too fast, pressing just hard enough and just quick enough to make your arousal build up, but watching you closely to make sure he didn’t press your sensitive body too far. He was careful, diligent with his every flick and curl. You were falling apart all over again.

“Jack, I’m- I can’t again-” You whined, legs heavy on his arms as he groaned, hugging them close to his head. The demon dug his knees into the ground, his cock pressing hard against his jeans but he ignored it, focused only on you and making you spill on his tongue again. “Yesh, yu can…” He lulled against your cunt, eyelids fluttering with every slick of his tongues. You wanted to resist, wanted to fight back against him, but he had pulled every ounce of your fight out. Jack was pushing you into some headspace you had never experienced before, your mind running on fumes and ecstasy. So you just let go. 

It was no time before you were cumming again, your orgasm much quicker than the last. Jack didn’t hold your thighs apart this time, he slid his claws up your waist, letting your plush legs wrap around his head and squeeze tightly as he groaned. The demon was slowly cracking under you, his mind running rampant as he drank down more of your sweet arousal, pushing off of his knees and to his feet until your hips were completely off the table. Your shoulder blades pressed back against the padding, your loud moans echoing in his ears and making him grin. Your cunt was wrecked, sopping wet and swollen as his tongues finally slid back, tugging out of your stretched cunt and back into his mouth. You watched through heavy lids, sweat sticking to your forehead and making you feel all hot and exhausted.

But Jack was lost in your body, eyelids heavy over his sockets as he leaned over you, pressing wet kisses against your stomach and back up to your chest. You were heaving, goosebumps rushing along your warm skin as the demon reached under your back and unclipped your bra, sliding it off of your shoulders. “So pretty…” He mumbled, kissing along the skin around your nipples until you were hissing. He peered up at your red face, grinning as he slid his arms around your waist and tugged you up to his chest, pressing you close to him. “Did so good, huh? Don’t you feel better?” He cooed, rubbing your back with his nails gently, leaving goosebumps against your skin. 

You did feel better. In fact, you didn’t feel anything but good. Your mind was blank, only the cool leather under your soaked cunt making you twitch, pleasure still coursing through your muscles. Jack was nestled between your legs, chin tucked over your head as he smiled, breathing in how amazing you smelt under him. But this close, you could feel his boner pressed tightly against your thigh, the large bulge making your eyes widen. The demon had done so much for you, it was only right you do something in return. 

You slid your hand down between you, cupping his bulge and rubbing gently until Jack was groaning. You tried to unbutton his jeans, but he was quick to lean back, gripping your wrists. “There’s no need for that. You need to rest.” He grinned, pressing your hands back to your sides gently. You pouted, straining against his arms to reach back again. “You helped me. Now let me help you… Even if it won’t be very good, I can still try.” You peered up at him, eyes wide and pleading as you felt some sense of need wash over you. Jack watched you carefully, contemplating with himself before sighing and rubbing his neck. “Okay. But do not push yourself.” He warned, letting go of your wrists and helping you slide off the table. 

The demon grunted when your hands found his bulge again, your heart pounding in your chest as you unbuttoned his jeans nervously. You had no fucking clue what you were doing, but you pushed his jeans back anyways, his boxers doing little to hide his girth. Jack’s claws rubbed your shoulder gently as you tugged his boxers down, gasping when his length bobbed out. He was… huge. You had never really seen a dick before, but you knew Jack was above average. The demon towered above you anyway, so it only made sense that his length would carry through. But even still, it was hard to focus as you watched the girth twitch in the air. Jack’s claw gripped your shoulder tighter now, watching you carefully.

Taking a deep breath, you kneeled, the demon taken back but quick to adjust. Your wide eyes flicked nervously between his face and the cock in front of you, hands nervously gripping his thighs as you pressed closer. Jack was nervous himself, studying your every move. Licking your lips, you pressed a kiss against the tip, shocked by how warm the flesh was as you lifted your hand to grip the base. Jack sighed, fisting his hands at his sides. You licked your lips again, the salty taste making you press further. You flattened your tongue, licking the head and slowly pumping the length in your hand, unsure if you were even doing this right. But when the demon groaned, pressing his hips closer, your stomach fluttered. 

There was no way you were fitting that in your mouth. So instead you tugged his cock to the side, pressing your lips against the side and sucking gently, jerking your hand slowly. You mouthed against the base, slipping licks up the length until Jack’s claws were resting against your head, rubbing gently and gritting his fangs. It wasn’t good and you knew that, but Jack didn’t care, all he knew was that you were trying and that was all that mattered to him. “Yeah, doing so good pet… Keep moving your hand just like that…” The demon cooed, running his thumb against your cheek. Your stomach fluttered wildly, your mouth sliding to the tip and sucking at his slit. You could taste the bitterness as you run your tongue against the head, Jack's arousal pushing through his gritted teeth. “Fuck…”

You dared, pushing your jaw open and flattening your tongue as you took the tip inside. You tried to press further, but your throat constricting as you gagged pushing you back, tears pricking your eyes. “Ah, careful-” Jack hissed, pressing his hands against your cheeks and pushing you back, but you resisted. You took the head in your mouth again, tongue swirling as your screwed your eyes shut, pumping your hand along the rest of the length. The demon groaned, hands still pressing against your cheeks gently as he begged you to take it slow. His skin was hot, cock twitching in your mouth every time you sucked. “Easy, pet… Yeah, just like that…” He groaned, brushing the hair off of your forehead and admiring your flushed face. You tried to press further, but you would gag and force yourself back, head bobbing as far as you could go before slobber pooled on your lips. You pumped his length quickly, making up for the rest of the length you couldn’t get. Jack was vibrating under your mouth, claws gripping desperately in your hair and brushing the tears from your eyes. “Shit, [Y/N]...” Your jaw was becoming sore, but you pushed, begging your throat to take him.

Until Jack gripped your chin, tugging it down and pulling you off of his tip. You whined, pushing back against his hands but he was already pushing you to the floor, back pressed down against the cold concrete of the basement. Jack kneeled between your legs, spreading them wide as he tugged off his shirt, tossing it to the side. “You did so good, pet… So good… Let me…” He hissed, pumping his cock in his claws and pushing your knees apart. Your eyes widened, heart pounding underneath his hungry gaze. “Jack- I don’t know if I-” But he was already rubbing your thigh gently, pulling your hips to meet his. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He cooed, breathing heavily above you.

Jack pressed his cock down, angling your hips up against his thighs so your cunt laid flat in front of him, your hands gripping onto his knees. Your heart was pounding, eyes flicking nervously as you watched Jack press his cock down, sliding his wet length through your soaked folds and groaning loudly. His tip nudged against your clit, your hips jerking as you gasped, digging your nails into his jeans. “Feels good, yeah?” He purred, slowly grinding his cock down against your cunt, pressing his thumb against the length to keep himself between your folds. You were whining, pressing your hips up to grind against his length as he ground down into you. His tip nudged against your clit with every thrust, the nub twitching against the contact and making your abdomen tighten. “Just like that, Jack…” You whined, his left hand clamping around your hip and pulling you close to him, rubbing the skin gently. 

The demon didn’t thrust fast, more concerned with pushing those beautiful moans from your lips rather than speeding you through an orgasm. He thought the buildup was better anyway. “I can feel your cunt clenching underneath me…” He mewled, pushing his head down with his thumb to grind against your clit, making you hiss. Jack could smell you even heavier now. Two orgasms deep you smelled even more delicious, your heart thudding in his ears as you stared at him through heavy, tired eyes.

That was all it took for him. Jack pressed forward, hands gripping to your waist and leaning over you, pressing his lips against yours. Future consequences be fucked, all he cared about was how amazing you looked and felt gripping onto his shoulders as he ground down into you. You were crying out, hips thrusting up to meet his cock, your folds sliding around his girth and clit throbbing so perfectly. “I want you to cum against me, pet… Let me feel you fall apart under me…” Jack smiled, pressing his lips against your cheek and licking the sweat off your face. You moaned deeply, nails digging into his shoulders as you arched your hips up, angling just right.

Jack moaned out, claws sharp against your skin as the tip of his cock slipped into your entrance, the tight hole stretching around him snugly. “Do it- Do it inside, then…” You gasped, pushing past the sting of your cunt stretching around his head and grinding your hips up, your orgasm nipping at your abdomen. Jack hissed, his hips thrusting down shallowly and popping his tip in and out, stretching you just right. “So perfect… Cum on my cock then, pet… I’ve got you…” He grinned, sweat dripping off his nose as he nestled into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist as he fucked you open. 

The tip of his cock pushing just right against the entrance of your walls made you cry out, cunt clenching down tightly around his head before you were cumming around him. Jack growled, breathing deeply as he stalled his hips, his cock twitching against the sudden tightness, pushing him over. His warm seed spilt into your cunt, his cock pulsing as he leaned back and jerked himself off quickly, keeping the tip inside of you as he gripped your waist tight. “Such a good pet… Took me so well, yeah? Taking all my cum like a good girl…” He smiled, giving his hips one last jerk as pushing his tip deep into your entrance for good measure before pulling out. You huffed, cunt throbbing and pulsing as he pulled out, the demon’s warm seed quick to spill out of your entrance and down your cunt, seeping onto your skin. Jack couldn’t help but growl, pressing kisses along your hot skin as you caught your breath, clinging to the large demon. 

When you eventually settled down, eyes heavy and head light, Jack scooped you up, leaning your head against his shoulder. He carried you through the mansion quickly, lucking no prying eyes around to see him carry you to his room and shut the door quickly. He cleaned you up, careful to be gentle against your sensitive folds as he ran a warm rag against you, your tired body clinging to him. “Just relax…” Jack smiled, pulling his sheets back and laying you down, quick to slip beside you and press his warm body against your side, scooping you against him. Your head was so light, your body so heavy and tired against him that you couldn’t resist. You were quick asleep, light snores making Jack chuckle as he breathed your scent deep, pressing his nose against your head and letting his own eyes shut.

Needless to say, you had never slept so well.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[devilander]

a mirror in half-light

18+ 1.5k. homelander x supe f!reader. blood, dirty talking, cunnilingus, use of telepathic powers, acts of violence mentioned (not between reader and HL)

From someone so concerned with shielding his mind, Homelander quickly comes to appreciate your telephatic powers and how useful they can be. Especially during a boring Seven meeting.

prompt sent by @infinetlyforgotten, thank you so much 🤍

When you were first introduced to the Seven, many, including your new colleagues, compared you to Mindstorm. Sure, there were some similarities—the ability to see a person’s thoughts or to project specific images. But that’s where it ended. 

The ace up to your sleeve, which distinguishes you and earned your supe name as Quickstep, is both your telepathic precognition, giving you leverage in hand to hand combat, and your crown and glory—possession. Supe or non-supes, all could have their minds hijacked by you; an ability Vought decided not to publicize. 

Your fellow partners in fighting crime knew, though; and from day one you could feel Homelander watching you with suspicion, a stare so filled with distaste your knees almost buckled. 

Seeing you in a corridor, Homelander signaled for you to approach.

“Quickstep,” he sneered, invading your personal space until he towered over you and your neck ached from looking so high up. “If I catch you using your little powers on me, be sure I’ll crack your spine. It’ll be easier than stomping on an ant. Got it?” His sudden artificial smile did nothing to lessen the weight of his words. 

Homelander was your hero, always, since childhood. Not only that, ever since you saw him for the first time, the shining blue eyes, the softness of his blonde hair, that commanding voice... You were a goner. And he most certainly knew. The disappointment almost, almost broke your heart. 

Little by little, however, with the unspoken promise you wouldn’t pry on his mind, you’d grown close. Partners in fighting crime, yeah, of course, but you had his back, no matter what. 

In one of your missions together, Homelander smeared in an innocent’s blood from head to toe, your first instinct was to help him—clean the mess. And you couldn’t lie, him in his violence and brutality did something to you. 

“Hey, you,” you murmured. “Let me help you, okay? Let me take care of it. Let me protect you.”

Surprisingly, he acquiesced. It took no more than minutes to possess the mind of some poor bystanders, having them fight and commit atrocious acts; they wouldn’t know what came over them and Vought would be too happy not to disclose. In quick action, the narrative changed; from rabid supe, to terrorist crowd. 

Later, you found yourself in his penthouse, in his bathtub, naked and cleaning the gore as he squeezed your waist. When you sealed your relationship with a bloodied kiss, you knew there was no turning back—and you loved it. Loved his quirks, his humor, his beautiful nose and soft hair, loved his flaws and all that came with it. Loved the tie that bound you forever. 

“I love you. I love you so much,” you whispered in his ear as you lay in his bed, a few hours before your meeting with the rest of the Seven. “I ache for you all the time. It overflows, sometimes.” You giggled, remembering when your desire burned you so passionately, so intensely, your mind had one focal point: Homelander and what he could do to your body. Without realizing, all your wants and needs were suddenly projected on his mind.

In the first time, you were fearful he’d throw a fit, but he simply grinned devilish at you. 

“Wow,” he laughed. “If I’d known more about your dirty little mind I would have put it to use a long time ago, babe.” 

After that, it became a fixture, in bed, in daily moments where voicing your thoughts wasn’t an option, or in missions when silent communication was useful. And bit by bit, he delighted in it, veritable proof of your devotion and love.

As it were, in this stolen moment, cuddled in his bed, he answered. “And I love you, my darling, My own mirror.” He nuzzled your neck. “No need to scream in my mind, I’m gonna eat your pretty pussy until you beg me to stop.” 

“I’d never,” you said breathily. 

Slowly kissing from your collarbone, to your stomach and thighs, mischievously looking you in the eye as he bit and kissed and licked everywhere around your cunt. His strength was enough to keep you in the exact place he wanted. Such a delicious torture. 

Finally he turned his attention to your clit, dragging his tongue over it in elaborate patterns—he was relentless, and you both moaned at the contact. You were loud, thrashing and screaming at the slightest touch, but only for him. He played your body perfectly. 

Your hands found his hair, soft to the touch, and yanked, wanting him closer and he groaned—the vibrations going straight to your core. Soon he started tongue-fucking, just as you liked it, going deep and slow, alternating to trace your slit from your asshole to your clit; not one part of you ignored. 

“Fuck, you taste so good. You’re fucking made for me, your pussy is mine, mine, understand that?”

“It’s yours! It’s all yours. Please, Homelander, please—”

“Please what?”

“Let me come, let me come in your mouth, I want to feel you.” It was all too much, the mess his tongue made, the wetness running down your pussy and dripping in the mattress.

Moaning, he plunged two fingers deep inside you, as he squeezed your ass, bringing you even closer. You cried from the pleasure he woke in you, and even in this madness you caressed his hair, closing your legs until he was in the position you liked most: with a perfect view of his face, his soft locks, his bright eyes. 

He smirked, squeezing you tighter, until you no longer touched the bed, and he slapped your ass so hard your whole body trembled. 

“Like that, princess? Like when I do whatever the fuck I want with your sweet body? Now show me. Show me what you want.” 

You complied instantly. 

You imagined him feasting on your pussy, licking it all until his spit and your slick became one and the same. His fingers marking your ass, your thighs; biting so deeply even your invulnerable skin would cleave to his superior strength. You wanted his tongue deep inside you, for yours on end, fucking your pussy so good your legs would spasm and you would scream for all the Tower to hear, pussy clenching just the way he liked. You wanted it all—Homelander slurping on your clit and swirling his tongue, making you squirt and swallowing it all, leaving his chin a beautiful fucking mess. 

In the aftermath, body boneless and exhausted, you wanted his fingers, for him to drag it all over your juices and make you swallow and gag on it. Then, in a little tenderness, he'd give you a breathtaking kiss, further proof of your intimate lovemaking. 

As you projected all of this on his mind, his smile grew bigger, more wicked. And you knew he'd deliver it, or even more. 

“You really are such a slut.” You giggled; it was all in the game.

Later on, as all the Seven were debating their latest terrorist attack, and what plan they'd need to put in action, all you could think was Homelander. His hands on you, his tongue lapping at your clit and his disheveled hair—which, you noticed, he didn't fix for the meeting. It wasn't fair, he was too mean at taunting you.

You couldn't keep your eyes off of him and he knew. Flashes of your morning together ran through your mind. No matter how satisfied you'd been, you wanted more, again, all the time. You wanted his kisses and devastation, his head between your legs and his mouth both teasing and giving you the most world-shattering pleasure. 

You wanted to caress his hair, your newfound obsession, while he fucked you, hiting that sweet spot and filling you up with his come.

In your daydreams, you tuned out from the conversation, and like being burned you found Homelander staring straight at you, an expression oh so familiar. Unintentionally he'd become the spectator of your fantasies. 

Rising from his chair so quickly you barely caught it, Homelander said, “That's enough for today. I have other things to take care of. Quickstep, you stay.”

Whispers of complaint were quickly shut down, as Homelander glared at them until each and everyone left the room.

“Well, well, seems like someone is still wantin' for more.”

He laid his hands on your chair, then turned it so you were face to face. 

“I couldn't help it,” you smirked. “I can't get enough.”

“But that's not fair, don't you think?" He clucked his tongue. "It's your turn to please me.” He pulled you from the chair, and manhandled you until you fell to your knees with a thud. “Now, princess, get to work.”

[anonymous-existences]

DCxDP Prompt 17 :

Danny was very displeased, displeased at the fact that he had to be a quarter vampire.

Let him explain, Danny had been visiting Vlad for his annual Therapy session, Dan had told the boy that Vlad has been acting strange and isolating himself in his bedroom.

Danny speculated that maybe the man is... Doing evil things again to mess with Danny and so just as any other sane person would, He visited the man. He stepped into a dark and cold room, "Frootloop...?", he called out as he kept the door open Infront of him.

Without even giving the boy a second to process the darkness, Plasmius pounced on him and had dug his sharp teeth and fangs on his arm, Danny took only a few moments and threw Plasmius to the side, his eyes were glowing red.

Danny was cursing as Plasmius's Hair 'Horns' were actual horns now and he looked... Hungry.

Danny would not like to delve more into those new trauma memories but short to say but Plasmius had a more animalistic side to him due to his vampire shtick and it turns out he knows when it happens but simply forgot to tell Danny or Anyone about this situation.

Danny went home after having been bandaged by Dani, He felt weird ever since that day and for the past few days the sun had felt more hotter for him that he ended up using sunscreen often, he found Ectoplasm more... Delicious as well and when he happened to get injured and licked the blood off his arm due to something urging him, he slowly pieced everything together.

Danny started showcasing more vampiric features, his eyes had a red tint, his ears were pointier and his fangs sharper, slowly he's had more of an attraction to blood and Ectoplasm, being able to find or smell blood from afar.

Danny at some point tells jazz and she ofcourse accepts him wholeheartedly and protects him as much as she could, even going as far as intimidating the A-Listers enough that they'd leave Danny alone.

It... It didn't prove good for him though, The Sensors clocked him more as a ghost. It made Maddie and Jack extremely suspicious.

One morning Tucker and Sam had called him something about Maddie and Jack finding out, Danny was then caught especially at a time where Jazz was out of town.

We all know what happens in Bad Parents Maddie and Jack, They have him strapped to a table.

Jazz went home 3 days later and after finding out about what happened to Danny, she ran to the closest person she could get help from. Vlad.

The DC part ;

Danny had ran away with Jazz, Dan and Dani to Gotham, Apparently Vlad had bought them a Manor and Since Dan was the oldest he was the one who managed all the money and he was good at it.

Danny still had difficulty controlling the hunger, the Half Ghost Thing now along with having vampire stuff on him and still somehow being half human was the only thing keeping him sane and feel like he's in control of his body.

These instincts from 3 different species in one body fused to one causing him to get more confused and erratic with his behaviors, Dan resorts to taking Danny out at night and letting him ravage and feed on Criminals which Dan had specifically picked.

Meanwhilst the bats have been notified of Child and Human traffickers or anything of the same level crime that they don't feel bad about have been found dead with bite marks on their necks and their bodies drained of blood, It confused them ofcourse but no innocent bystanders or civilians was ever turned into a victim of this unknown assailant.

The public had nicknamed the supposed "Vampire Meta" As Apparition (Because Dracula was too cliché), One faithful night, a witness happens to see this strange person feed on a criminal.

A black haired teenage boy had their teeth sunken in the big man's neck, their eyes a red tint but it's obvious they were blue, said civilian immediately told the police which gave the bats a lead.

Witnesses starts to see more of him, Red Robin happens to encounter the younger boy on coincidence, his clothes were bloodied but he stared at the horizon of the city. The boy looked out of thought, his eyes hazed as Red Robin approached him, Danny turned his head at Red Robin almost immediately upon hearing his footsteps.

"Hello." He greets with a fanged but soft and innocent smile that made Red Robin's heart skip a beat. Just who is this boy? And why is Tim starting to have a crush for him.

You guys can take it from here, all my thoughts were, Halfa!Vamp!Danny and Dead Tired.

[catdia]

Grayson with a Chubby S/o

she met you in the undercity, you were introduced to each other by Vander in his bar.

you were the new bartender

Grayson never expected a goddess behind the counter instead of the usual Vander. She only ever came strictly for business

but something about the way you smiled at patrons while serving drinks, the sway of your wide hips as you carried beers to tables, hand stuffing tips inside your cleavage, knocking the teeth out of a guy that touched you too friendly for your liking made her become a regular

she prayed in her office everyday that some idiot for the Undercity would make a scene in Piltover so that she could report it to Vander

Grayson was daydreamed about you. having your full figure pressed against hers as you pointed at which drink you liked most on the menu

how beads of sweat rivered down your breasts after lifting new inventory

your dirty mouth as you cursed out customers that didn’t pay or Vander for not giving you a proper 15 minute break at rush hour

the way you squished her biceps and felt her muscles she worked hard to maintain as you greeted her

you never charged her for the drinks she got, but always found the same amount on the table when she left

you called her your “favorite enforcer” while giving her the finger. Grayson loved your fire

on countless occasions did she watch you fight of enforces that were violent to innocent bystanders. they were left bruised to the bone. whatever punishment that she had in mind was far to kind next to your bloody one

her fellow comrades feared you more than Vander in many ways. You were cruel to the strong and protective to the weak

making a name for yourself both in Piltover and The Lanes

when you first got acquainted you thoughtthat she was there for you

“In my defense your buddies got what was coming to them. I don’t especially like child beaters. And good thing that I only just broke a leg. And not a neck.”

“I’m not here for you. I have to speak with Vander.”

you were in love the first moment she took off her oxygen mask. and what a voice. a beautiful woman with bird like features. what you’ll do to be trapped in her claws…

you poured her a drink, leaning over the wide oak counter. pushing your breasts up. watching her eyes roam your skin

“Ohh — what a bummer. I would have loved to be dragged to Stillwater by such a lovely thing as yourself. You enforcers tend to be on the— What’s the word? Ah! Brutish side.”

“If it weren’t for your connections to Vander you would have been arrested by now. And if it wasn’t me, you’ll be right on your way to a life long sentence. But between you and me, we can always use more people to shallowout the bad apples.” she said taking a gulp of her drink. smiling at you with her lovely lips.

she introduced herself as Officer Grayson. shaking your hand with a gentle grip. what a powerful woman. and how you craved that

“I like you Officer Grayson. Let me get The Hound for you right quick.”

you saw that she was a decorated officer by the silver and gold on her uniform. Rifle secured on her back

you loved her uniform, constantly flirting with her by fixing her collar and stealing her enforcer hat

saying you like women in blue

“Tell me Sheriff, does its ever come off?”

you asked, now on your 5th drink. running your hands over Grayson’s jacket. playing with the small medals she had hanging from it

“For you my dear, it will come off in a heartbeat.”

she is a romantic. waited months before even kissing you. you thought she didn’t take the hint with the constant flirting

Grayson just wanted to properly court you, giving you extra large tips and bringing gifts from top side as peace offerings

gifting you fresh roses in marble vases

dancing with you at the bar as love songs were playing

lifting you of the ground (which made you extremely horny) in order to spin you in her arms and dip you into a kiss.

but once all formalities were left aside you jumped her bones on a slow night. you closed The Drop early one evening when Vander was away on smuggling business

she this time came to scold you about the the guns you stole from the Kiramman’s trade ship.

“Do you know what have you done?! The guns you stole are worth more than money. It’s the skin on my back that is going to —“

you shut her up with a kiss. you knew about her connections. you just wanted an excuse for her to come down for YOU. not herself hiding behind a stupid purse snatching to come and speak to your boss as a buffer to get your attention

stripping her uniform of as you pushed her on a tableless booth. thanking Sevika for breaking the table when she landed on it amidst a gambling brawl

“You r-really know how to get out of trouble.”

having Grayson’s legs over your shoulders as you eat away at her cunt. Her hand on top of your head, shirt unbuttoned. Moaning as you lapped her clit. Each breast in one of your palms

Grayson’s head hitting the wall behind the plush leather cushions. a glass of whiskey on the other hand

legs intertwined and cunts touching. rocking against your bodies until your clits throbbed. gasping for air between kisses. cumming on each other’s sex

Grayson wanted to get you out of The Lanes as soon as possible. out of the violence and toxicity

even though you were a beacon of light. caring for the children of the streets and a shoulder to cry on when the hardness of the underground was too much to bare

calls you darling, love, angel, dove

you make fun of her cigarette mom voice

Grayson is a big gift giver, she is the head of the enforcers and that means she makes big girl money

you can expect everything from clothing, jewelry, lavish spa days you name it

“For you, my love”

Grayson wrapped a gold and emerald necklace around your throat. you have never experienced such luxury before

you bagged yourself a sugar mommy

gave you a massive diamond ring when she proposed to you

you had a small wedding in The Last Drop. only very close friends were present. once the news got out that Grayson married a woman from the under city she was met with whisperers, and for a long time hesitation from other enforcers

Marcus was especially pissed that his commander was meddling with the undecity

but once he saw you bringing lunch to Grayson and extra for her subordinates he developed a FAT crush on you. Grayson has caught him more than once looking at your ass as you walked away

you laughed at Grayson’s poor excuse of hiding her jealousy. always touching and kissing her in front of her acquaintances to show your loyalty to her

even the council questioned her decision of your marriage. you were like oil and water to the outside world

“With no disrespect Councilors, but what happens in my bed doesn’t limit my ability to protect this city.”

Grayson once needed to pull you out of the councilors office because you may or may not have tried to choke Salo to death because of a comment he made against your lady

Mel developed respect for you. she occasionally invited you for tea and talked about social troubles between the two cities

If it wasn’t for you, then the new education and water systems wouldn’t have taken place in The Lanes. making life down there more livable

Grayson equally hates going to Piltovan social events as much as you do. but it’s part of her job to keep the rich socialites entertained

the only highlight of the event was going dress shopping with you. admiring your curves as you walked out in different gowns

she paid for every single one you liked

“You can always wear it for me at home, darling.” was her excuse

she looked ever so exquisite in the two piece suits. always color coordinated with your dress.

Grayson got bombarded by half assed praise for keeping the “trenchers” at bay. While you got ignorant questions about your uprising

you always found each other in outdoor balconies. Sipping on good champagne and looking at the shadows of Piltover

you eventually met little Caitlyn. An excellent shot and even more excellent character.

both of you trained under your wife in the art of gunmanship

Grayson taught you how to properly assemble, clean and shoot a rifle/guns

chest pressed against your back, both hand holding your gun filled ones. Staring at a blue and red bullseye. Fingers slowly descending to your abdomen, then hips.

“Now, dove, the only thing more important than a bullet is the gun in which it’s shot from. And for the gun, the only thing more important than its bullet is the purpose of which its fired.”

every solo training session end with one of you backed into a tree with your legs spread by the other

you’ve had sex in her office countless of times. Covering each other mouths while fingering your pussies.

her nose feels sooo good when you sit on her face. Grayson makes sure to grab your lower tummy fat as a form of restraint to keep you on her.

you definitely play cops and robbers. but roles reversed. You tie her up with her handcuffs in bed. naked with her enforcer hat on your head.

she has a home gym. you constantly drop in on her doing weight training and pull ups. watching her pull her shirt up to wipe off her face sweat, happy trail on her lower abs

she flexes her arms at you, you call her your sexy lady

loves seeing you in silk dress pajamas. the smooth shinny fabric hugging the crescents of your tummy and back

talked about having a family a few years before officially retiring, in which you’ll happy carry a child for her

Grayson definitely wants you to join the enforcers. you wanted to slap the shit out of her when she asked. but instead you laughed at her face, believing it was a joke.

it wasn’t. she left the acceptance letter and badge on the coffee table. telling you to think about it. how the department needed more people like you. that she couldn’t handle it all herself without you

“What threat did you use to get me in, Gray?” you drank your coffee. now bitter to taste

“Only that my Kiramman friends will pull their funding.”

“And?”

“That I’ll break off the peace with The Hound.”

and with the love and admiration they had for her, you certainly believe it

but the Vander one? not a chance. he would rather die than break a trust such as this

the night Grayson told you that she was going to make an arrest for the Jayce Talis case you made up your mind.

even if the uniform made your soul itch it was a better choice than doing nothing

you planned on telling her in the morning while having coffee before her shift

now you just stood there, looking at your wife’s white marble bust. at her funeral as her body was being lowered underground

white roses covering her still and cold flesh

little Caitlyn crying on your shoulder, while Marcus didn’t even look at you in the eyes the whole ceremony

you really were starting to believe that the place you once called home was a hell hole

and oh how you wanted it to be burned to the ground

[thewitchblue]

Out of all the family members, Y/N had a favourite, and it's arguably the least likely person: Tim Drake. Tim, for the life of him, can't figure out why, either. He's oftentimes indifferent towards people, and he's often too tired to care what the consequences to his actions are.

You must have picked up on this pattern and decide to fix Tim's bad habits because soon you were asking him to cuddle under the guise of a nightmare (but really it's because you heard him typing in his room at 4 am) or asking him to spend the day with you at the arcade so he can show you "how to cheat the system" (but really it's to get him away from the Batcave.) He became your favourite because you love him and care about his health.

He feels a familiar tug on his shirt and sees big, innocent eyes and knew he was going to be dragged somewhere else. He knew that excited gleam in your eyes and that bright grin so well. You hatched a plan, and all you needed was Tim, and damn, Tim is weak for his little sibling.

"What did you come up with this time?"

He asked, trying to hide the smile on his face. You shined so brightly with him next to you that he began shining, too.

"Bruce wants to host a gala but I need help with picking out an outfit. Can you help me? We can cuddle after."

How can he say no when you pout so cutely at him? He gave a resigned sigh but agreed. He hated galas, but they are especially hard on you. You were the one the reporters borderline harass because you were the bright star amongst the family of shadows and fake smiles. Your smiles were real and inviting. You were the bundle of joy the family needed in their lives.

The press eats up every time Tim steps up to protect you from the attacking questions. Sometimes, he even straight up picks you up and carries you away when the questions get particularly nasty or rude.

He would never admit that he loves that he can pick you up and just carry you away like a knight in shining armour. You never put up a fuss when he places you on his shoulders and simply walks away from the reporters hounding you.

He felt so smug about being the obvious favourite. All the photos of him carrying you, him falling asleep on your lap with a gentle smile on both faces, you tackling him with a hug and a grin on your face, the way he laughed when he fell after the tackle.

The public ate up your relationship like candy. They love, love, love to see the way you are so close and love it even more when they see it in real life. Just seeing you both out on the streets of Gotham left the bystanders grinning.

They love the piggyback rides Tim gives you, the way you chase him with a wild grin and a watergun in your hand, and all the times you kiss his cheek at a coffee shop or play fight in the park. They love every interaction. You never thought much about it. You loved Tim dearly. Of course, you are going to show it.

Tim is easily your favourite, and you don't care one bit about who sees it. You don't care if the reporters take millions of photos of Tim winning you a massive teddy bear at the carnival that's the size of you or if they write thousands of articles gushing about your sweet relationship with your brother. You both are enjoying the moment, and that is what matters to you.

Dick was jealous, Jason was confused, and Damian was annoyed beyond belief. Ew, they get it, you love each other deeply, but must you be so obvious?

Dick joins in when he can, but it's always been Tim and you. You forged Tim and you into twin souls, attached at the hip and taking on the world together.

[yanderes-galore]

Same anon as the Overblot Idia ask - I lied, I'd also like Overblot Leona Kingscholar too, but I figured one character per ask.

Sure! I'll try my best... I warn you, it may be short :(

Yandere! Overblot! Leona Kingscholar Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Murder, Sadism, Jealousy, Mentions of 'Mate', Forced "relationship".

Overblot! Leona is... well... feral in nature.

By the time he overblots he's overcome with jealousy, envy, hate...

Along with a destructive desire.

Like all Overblot forms, Leona is dangerous to be around.

Due to his Signature Spell 'King's Roar', everything he touches becomes sand.

Not only that, but sandstorms kick up around him.

When it comes to yandere Overblot characters, I imagine their obsession would also kickstart their transformation.

Not only is he trying to overthrow the school competition and beat Malleus...

But you may also be involved too.

That or maybe this is an alternate form of events where Leona has been watching you for a while....

Maybe Leona has fallen for you long ago, be that at Night Raven or even back in his old country, and he's kept close tabs ever since.

Leona, second prince, is used to having to fight for what he wants.

He never is just handed what he desires... not like a king.

Instead, he's forced to work for it.

That or deceive and steal it.

Leona stalks his obsession, his prey....

He watches everyone who dares to speak with you, everyone he dares to steal you.

Even just watching commoners talk to you makes his tail flick.

Going down this route, Leona's Overblot would be born from jealousy and rage.

Imagine if Leona gets tipped over the edge somehow?

Maybe he sees you with someone else romantically and loses it?

Overblot is deadly for everyone involved...

Including the person suffering from the corruption.

In this state, Leona does not care about his surroundings.

Everything could turn to sand for all he cares.

After all, if he can't rule a kingdom or have the mate he chooses...

Then it shall all be sand.

The sight is terrifying to you especially.

You knew of Leona, the lion often observing you like a future meal.

He's always unnerved you no matter where he is.

He's always watching... always waiting...

But looks like he's met his limit.

Leona can only take so much.

He's tired of being neglected, not even his tricks will get him what he wants.

By the time he Overblots, he's like a force of nature.

He's a drought that slurps anything and everything, leaving only sand.

He can't control his rage...

Unfortunately, his obsession can't either.

Unless subdued, Leona is a being of pure destruction.

He won't even realize it half the time.

He's a roaring beast, yelling about how it's all unfair.

He deserves to rule, he deserves to have you...!

Anyone around becomes fodder for his rage.

Innocent bystanders feel as though they're in a sandstorm, their skin dry and cracking as Leona laughs.

Leona would rampage until he finds the one he's looking for.

Despite his feral mind, Leona recalls one thing.

You.

You are truly what he desires most.

Before his Overblot, he made peace with the fact he can't have the throne...

As long as he could have you, it wouldn't matter.

Yet he lost you to someone else supposedly more worthy too.

You can hide as best as you can...

The sand suffocates you, causing you to cough.

The air is so dry.

Eventually you'll succumb... Then he'll find you.

Leona makes it a goal to hunt your partner, claws sinking into their flesh as he grins.

They don't deserve you... If Leona doesn't deserve you, no one does.

Leona would gleefully turn the one you love to sand if it meant finding you.

By the time he finds you, the corrupted prince is on all fours to look in your hiding spot.

His eyes are predatory, fangs bared in a sadistic grin...

He's found his prey.

Black ichor drips from him, a thick ink that not even his sand can dry out...

It stinks of poison.

Stinks of danger.

Leona doesn't care if he hurts you in this state, reaching out and tugging you into his chest.

It's painful... so painful.

Yet Leona only growls... or is it a purr?

Your skin is cracking as you feel the moisture leave it.

Leona only nuzzles... worsening your condition.

Even now you're adorable... and all his...

Even though his touch is slowly killing you.

Unless Leona is stopped, Leona's Overblot is too volatile to survive.

Leona has one goal as his own magic is eaten away by blot.

He wants to keep you to himself.

He doesn't care if his surroundings turn to sand, if you die, or if he dies...

How can he in such a feral state?

All that matters is you're all his...

After all, if he can't have you, no one will...

You'll both turn to sand if he wills it.

[verdantwyrm]

In Defense of Curly (Again)

This post is not about absolving Curly of his “sins” or anything, Curly is not an innocent angel that has done no wrong, no, he is morally grey as they come. But I will not stand for slander on my wife NO MORE. Curly is not as guilty as you would think, but neither is he Innocent. Anya is so much more than a victim, Curly is so much more than a bystander, and Jimmy is so much more than a rapist, they are multifaceted characters in a very multidimensional game. They’re all characters that have been individually crafted to tell a story, and everyone is avoiding that by reducing them to a singular note of events rather than their entire personality and even going as far to twist their dialogue and character to fit their own bias, ignoring whats actual factual and canon for the sake of projection.

So with that out of the way, let us begin.

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A sense of timeline for better understanding.

Curly's Psych Eval (and by extension, Jimmys) was 7 Days before the crash. Curly does not know Anya is pregnant here. 

The birthday Party is 6 Days before the crash. Curly doesn't know here either. 

The Dead Pixel scene is 2 Days before the Crash. Curly doesn't know here either. 

Anya stealing the gun is 1 Day Before the Crash. Curly Finds out Anya is pregnant here and that Jimmy is responsible. Anya tells Jimmy about the pregnancy and tells Curly about it. 0 Days before the crash (The Same Day)

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Pony Express’ Abuse

As for the first subject, I want to make it very clear about Pony Express’ Failure to comply and have any standard safety measures (most noticeably in the lack of locks) and the fact that they very often penalize their employees by taking from their pay and that they’re extremely lazy and known to cut corners for everything. The poster in-game tells us a lot about this if not backed up directly by the dialogue.

"Proper preparation prevents accidents, it is your responsibility to keep yourself and the crew safe. Medical expenses will be docked from person credits."

"Punctual delivery is our pride and promise- No matter where you are! Late deliveries will be docked from personal credits."

"Teamwork is the soul of success! When you have completed your tasks, always check on other tasks! HR complaints about poor team synergy may result in collective punishment"

"Sleep is the best rest after a long day of work, earn that rest! Don't overdo it or fall behind! Do not indulge in over 5 hours of forest, including leisure time. Sleeping over the allowed budget will result in disciplinary actions."

Neither Curly nor Jimmy are getting anything close to the required amount of rest for such a demanding job, with only 5 hours compared to the IRL guidelines for pilots to get an average of 10 hours of rest between shifts with 8 hours of sleep, it's also implied by Anya and Curly's own dialogue that he struggles to sleep. Which all together implies that they're both working 19-hour shifts every day. Every. Single. Day.

We see them both on shift at the same time multiple times during the game and Curly is the only one with clearance to make certain extremely important navigation decisions (like turning off the autopilot) and we can easily come to the conclusion that they are both extremely overworked, Curly Especially.

We can easily see that Pony Express are not shy to punish their employees and even goes as far as to routinely engage in collective punishment, and this is shown to be the drive behind a lot of Curly's decisions in particular, especially with how he reassures Anya that her stealing the gun case will not go on the performance log and reducing the chances of her being punished at all and to probably put the pressure onto himself in case Pony Express does find out. Given her precarious financial situation, she literally cannot afford to have her pay docked and Curly knows this.

Pony Express is known for its laziness, negligence and its ability to cut corners, they are also seen to not trust its employees by making everything have to go through him from axe usage to making a cake. To not supplying enough medical equipment, a fifth cryogenic pod to account for Daisuke or even to account for him at all. Curly himself even commented on how he should have made a bigger “stink” about the situation of Daisuke being thrown on the Tulpar last minute, which implies that he did raise this as an issue and a safety risk and was ignored.

I'm not going to take this as seriously but it is worth mentioning regardless because it is just absolutely Kafkaesque levels of absurd, They actively make it borderline impossible to report anything, so even if Curly or Anya were able to get ahold of Pony Express to send in a report, they never could due to the requirements and the prerequisites. It also implies that if you apply for a job there but refuse the medical evaluation, they can fine you despite the fact that you don't even actually work there yet.

Another classic example of Marx's theory is of the alienation in capitalism, wherein workers are estranged and separated from the products of their own labour. The crew had absolutely no idea what they were delivering, and judging by how much was put in place, they were never supposed to.

Marx's theory, the implementation of automation would negatively impact workers by depriving them of job opportunities that could have been filled by humans. This is strongly suggested to be the primary reason for the downfall of Pony Express and why the crew was fired.

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Anya’s Assault

Anya being assaulted is never outright said, with an intentional layer of vagueness layered over the top with how she talks about it and how she mentions it to Curly. The words “Assault” “Rape” or even “Attacked” are not mentioned at any point, we only learn this through visual imagery and subtext of Anya mentioning the lack of locks on the doors, how unsafe she feels around Jimmy, and she would rather him not have the gun at all—fawning at his every response in a panic of upsetting him or escalating the situation. The words are never explicitly said as many other victims can sympathise with, saying the words out loud can be very difficult sometimes, and Anya’s vagueness was intentional on the happenchance that Curly did take Jimmy’s side. She was trying to put distance between herself and that possibility by being as cautious and as vague as she could, in hopes that Curly would pick up on the signs himself and come to that conclusion himself instead of Anya babying him and dumbing down the situation.

This is a believable reaction, especially when your abuser has any kind of power over you or other people, and he isn’t the only one either. Curly has just as much power, if not significantly more over her, which adds more to the fear of even mentioning such a thing, as mentioned earlier in my section of Pony Express' Abuse towards them, the possibility of being penalized with her– and everyone else –pay being docked because she made a simple complaint, was a very real threat, and even more dangerous after finding out about the whole crew being laid off. Jimmy tears her down every chance he gets, makes her feel little and even compares her to Polle in his hallucinations. And Anya knows that he and Curly have a very lengthy history, so her caution and anxiety about even mentioning the incident, let alone saying the word “rape” is borderline impossible for her. It’s a manifestation, it’s a verbal acceptance and confession that it’s even happened. Something she has been trying to avoid coming to terms with.

And when she does eventually tell Swansea what happened, as much as you want to think she told him- she most likely told him to not do anything, to try and keep the peace for as long as possible.

Again, her vagueness is not her fault, nor is it her responsibility. It was Jimmy’s responsibility to not abuse and rape her.

It’s also very present that Jimmy is verbally abusive to her, putting her down at every opportunity by ignoring her very talented medical skills by saying Pony Express only hired her to cut corners in an attempt to reduce costs because she failed Medical School and that she’s not a “real nurse” because of that, and how he constantly questions her skills despite keeping Curly alive for such a long time in such a state.

After being insulted by him multiple times, she fawns to get him to actually do something beneficial because she knows he responds well to praise, and he complies, all while still insulting and belittling her for being "weak" and "sentimental"

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The Dead Pixel In The Room

Going to immediately preface this with a very big obvious “Curly did not know Anya was raped” warning sign to hopefully weed out the weak that don’t want to actually read this. You can leave now if you’d like, no hard feelings. This scene is supposed to be your first clue as a player, as well as Curly's. It's intentional to be like that, it makes the most sense chronologically as well because up until that point, we don't even know.

Okay, we can start now. First, off the bat, I want to talk about that dead pixel scene. And how both Anya and Curly have their own individual meanings behind It, and how both play into each character’s relationship with Jimmy. With Anya’s being a constant reminder of Jimmy’s presence, how it affected her and how it’ll always be there no matter what. And Curly’s is something that he knows exists, but cannot see for himself, because he’s too busy looking at the bigger picture. Even if he knows it's fake, even if he knows it’s an illusion.

He doesn’t doubt her here either, and even though he admits he cannot see it. He believes that it's there, despite this, and that it doesn’t ruin the image. Choosing to see the good, the beauty, of the bigger picture. The Dead pixel scene isn’t just about Anya, it’s about the both of them. And you’re probably asking how Curly hasn’t gotten the point Anya is trying to make, and thats again because she’s being intentionally vague here, and her comment about the lack of locks ties up pretty well with the previous two conversations she’s had with Curly directly. Complaining about Jimmy being weird during the psych evaluation and then her pithy comment about Pony Express’ cutting back expenses on their food and the comment she makes about the code scanner during the birthday party.

All of her previous conversations with Curly have been about their work or something going on in the ship or even with Pony Express directly. So it’s not unusual for her comment about the lack of locks on the sleeping quarters, it’s not random, it’s pretty on theme with the direction of how their conversations go, Curly wouldn’t pick up on that alone because it’s not a strange thing to say.

It's also very much shown that Anya trusts Curly, trusts him enough to not only confide in him first about the pregnancy but also allow herself to be open and friendly with him, even going as far as to try and get him to open up to her during his psych evaluation. She is also hiding behind his seat when she steals the gun. She feels the safest when she is with the real captain and how uncomfortable she is listening to Jimmy's orders to strip Curly of that title.

Every single time that Curly and Anya speak directly, he is always reassuring her, attempting to calm her down and her safety is the first thing he's concerned about when he finds out she's taken the gun.

And once she mentions the pregnancy, his priorities flip, again to her safety, reassuring her that she won't get punished for this. Once again telling her that everything is going to work out, that WE will fix this, WE WILL figure this out TOGETHER. He and Anya.

A key important word here is "what would you have done"

Would. Not, what will you do, no she's asking in past tense. The assault has already happened, she is reassuring herself here before telling him about the pregnancy that he is on her side, that he believes her and that her trust in him isn't misplaced.

And when he does find out she's pregnant, he still doesn't know exactly how. And it's important because it reflects back onto how Curly does ultimately behave when he does approach Jimmy. He doesn't know he's confronting a rapist, and his dialogue here proves that he does just think it was ultimately her choice, her decision. And the most painful part Is the very blatant unwanted pregnancy, not anything else.

Anya is still being intentionally vague here as well, as mentioned earlier. Curly did not actually know that Anya was raped, as the only thing that's mentioned is the pregnancy and that Jimmy is involved. Which is absolutely something to be worried about, regardless of how it happened, because they're on a ship. In the middle of Space.

Someone who knew would not react like that. Curly never once doubts Anya's words or her truth. And after Anya tells Culy about how she told Jimmy about her pregnancy, Curly says that she should have waited for him because he wanted to be there just in case.

Curly even does it literally. The most important part that everybody overlooks is how determined he is to get to the cockpit as the ship is crashing. He knows it's crashing but all he can do is try, he could have run away, but he didn't.

Curly took responsibility multiple different times which is easily overlooked because so much happens in such a short time span that people literally think he had months between knowing about Anya being raped and then the crash when it was barely a day. Just like how people easily overlook the dead pixel scene and how it also represents something to Curly as well, and just like how people overlook Anya's "I told you so"

Curly's kind, forgiving and trusting nature is not inherently bad. It was how it was used against him in an extremely difficult situation, which is exactly what Abusers do time and time again. He failed Anya in such a delicate way and in such a difficult situation, but it's something to understand that Pony Express failed her first, failed her in all the most important ways by even allowing a situation like this to happen. It was Jimmy's responsibility to not be a rapist, but it was Pony Express's fault for even enabling that in the first place.

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Curly's Trauma

A very common thing that people tend to overlook, and this is either because they subconsciously forget that men can be victims of abuse, or simply because they don’t care enough to consider Curly to be one– his relationship with Jimmy and what we can glean from is very abusive, emotionally and verbally and then soon later on physically. Curly is just as much a victim of Jimmy's mistreatment and abuse as Anya is, in their own unique and parallel ways, they both had everything taken from them. We can tell in Jimmy’s behaviour and the way he intentionally isolates Curly in the Birthday scene and the Psychological evaluation in the cockpit, Jimmy takes Curly’s weakness and anxieties and twists them around to isolate him from receiving any help or support from others.

Curly’s biggest weakness is his forgiving nature. We all talk about how Anya is a victim of Jimmy, and she absolutely is, but so is Curly. His first immediate response Jimmy's reaction to Anya announcing her pregnancy is met with immense fear and anxiety with the added soundtrack of what could be equivalent to the sound of Curly's heart racing. He freezes, he fawns, he panics.

Curly's good-natured heart, being lax, trusting and a constant mediator isn't inherently a problem. It was the circumstances that turned that so volatile. If Jimmy wasn't who he was and so readily abusive then Curly's character would not be that detrimental, and his actions would not have such a catastrophic impact. And everyone immediately boiling down those harmless traits and villainising them does much more harm than good, especially since the character they should be targeting is Jimmy, not Curly.

He is beyond terrified, and when he does finally get to Jimmy, he immediately fawns and freezes. He makes absolutely no mention of Anya or anyone else because all that mattered in that panicked situation was easing Jimmy down and resolving the situation. There was truly, absolutely nothing that Curly could have done that wouldn't have resulted in either direct consequences or collective punishment. All of Curly's thoughts, behaviour and actions were as carefully thought out as he possibly could in the short 24 hours or so that he was made aware of Anya's pregnancy and Jimmy's involvement.

He is trying to eliminate all potential problems in the situation so Curly can take the full front of Jimmy's rage. This again furthers the point of exactly why Curly wouldn't recognise the signs of Anya being abused as well because this is all so normal for him. He’s terrified of Jimmy, and an abuser's main tactic is to make sure that their victims never feel confident to speak up against them, or to ever seek out help from others. It’s why he never rushes to defend himself, he just lets Jimmy do and say all of these horrible things.

And Jimmy immediately stabs back putting him down. Twisting the blame and putting it into Curly. Like he somehow was a part of it all and that it was his fault.

Curly was and has been a victim of Jimmy's abuse for a very long time on an emotional and mental aspect that clouded his judgements and perceptions in the scenario which devolved into physical and medical abuse very quickly once Jimmy got his chance. And it is also true that Curly had a responsibility to protect Anya as a crew mate and Captain that he failed due to bias towards his abusers, and his kind and forgiving nature of simply wanting to see the good in Jimmy, which is also another aspect of what victims believe. Curly enables Jimmy's behaviour towards himself and even goes as far to completely blame himself for everything that happened in How Fish Is Made.

A lot of victims tend to surround themselves with excuses of why they’re abused, that it’s somehow their fault and that he’s done something awful to deserve it, that this a normal thing that happens, that Jimmy has his reasons to be like this and it isn’t his fault. People argue that Curly should have done more and that he "failed" in any regard is putting a huge expectation onto a victim like him of someone like Jimmy's relentless abuse and how it takes such an impactful toll on someone like Curly. Everyone who plays or watches the game looks over the very easy and subtle warning signs of this abuse and is too busy claiming Curly to be the antagonist here and holding him responsible instead of Jimmy.

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Conclusion + Other Comments

Curly is not perfect, but he is not as guilty as everyone wants him to be. If you go into mouthwashing anticipating Curly as a cruel, selfish monster, of course, you're going to interpret him that way and twist everything he ever does or says to fit your narrative although he very obviously isn't that way at all and get upset when someone tells you you're wrong. You need to remember that he had a whole crew to think of, Curly is not judgement, nor is he the executioner. His hands were absolutely tied and for one reason only: Because Pony Express does, did, and will not care. Pony Express has it explicitly like this so you cannot do anything. So people like Jimmy who manipulate the vulnerable can prey upon his co-workers and get away with it.

The situation on the Tulpar is not as straightforward as people would like, I understand it's extremely cathartic to think of a situation where Jimmy gets what he deserves but it isn't realistic, and thats what this game is trying to say. Abusive corporations, exhausting capitalism, this environment breeds Abusers like Jimmy and victims like Anya and Curly. There was nothing that could be done. Pony Express is what doomed them all, they're the catalyst.

At some point, you have to understand and accept the fact that certain scenarios are simply just cathartic fantasies that simply couldn't have happened. They were all doomed, right from the start. It wasn't just Jimmy's actions (Although they significantly influenced the outcome), and it sure as hell wasn't Curly's inaction. It was Pony Express. I think something that a lot of people get mixed up in their interpretations of Curly is that he's not us, and we're not supposed to be him. Constantly projecting your own fears and experiences onto him to sway your interpretation of his words takes away from the already written-in-stone character he is. You saying "He didn't mean it" when talking about Curly saying he cares about Anya is not only incorrect, but it's YOUR projection onto a character that is already extremely upfront and honest about his intentions and kind personality. He is not malicious, evil, cruel, selfish or misogynistic, so saying that because you interpreted his words to be half-truths or him lying through his teeth to Anya and that his kindness is fake is literally obstructing his character.

Everyone wants them both to be perfect examples of victims and refuses to understand or even believe Curly's situation. Curly DID fail Anya but not for the reason everyone thinks he did.

They're both victims to the same man, they both believe in the best of people (although to their own detriment in a way) they want to find peace, and fulfilment in their career and life. They're so alike in such delicate and intimate ways, that trying to constantly paint Curly as this great, horrible oppressor over her does way more harm than good.

Curly's character is painfully obvious, very very upfront and honest. He is kind, constantly weighed down by guilt and anxiety about his future and career and is being abused by his so-called friend and the company he's working himself to death for that he absolutely hates that just discarded him like he was nothing. Like a lame horse.

Thank you so much to the Mouthwashing Mania Discord server for helping me with this thread! Specifically Mogs for their amazing analysis on Capitalism which can be found here!

Thank you for reaching the end of the thread, please don't be scared to share your thoughts in the tags or in my inbox, I'd love to hear them! good job! (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡

[river-of-wine]

I know I’ve mentioned this plenty of times before but I’m still kind of annoyed by how the fanbase just kind of completely declawed the four lords and placed the entirety of the responsibility for their wrongdoings on Mother Miranda.

The Baker family are great, I love them, they’re an incredible unit of antagonists who are intended to be very sympathetic, at least for the most part. Jack and Marguerite in particular have lost all control over their minds and their bodies, turning into extremely violent murderers and cannibals who threaten and attack their own family, kill anyone unfortunate enough to come across them and, especially in Marguerite’s case, lose complete autonomy over their own bodies. Marguerite turns into a walking bug hive who’s only purpose is to feed her family and birth her new children. Jack is an unstoppable murderous force of patriarchal violence who has so much fun chasing down and harming his victims, which in the Daughters DLC includes even his own daughter. The exception to this is obviously Lucas, who has been cured of his infection and his acting of his own free will. All of this is caused by Eveline, everything Jack and Marguerite do controlled by her, and yet Eveline is just as sympathetic as the rest of them. She’s a ten year old girl. Even Jack, who has watched his family and their victims suffer because of her infection, doesn’t seem to hold any of it against her. She just wants a family of her own, after all. It’s a complex and tragic situation.

The four lords, while I suppose being similar in structure, are not the Baker family. Not in dynamic, not in character, not in the kind of tragedy that they embody. I could talk for a while about just how completely different they are, but I don’t know if I really need to.

The Baker family are so tragic because they were just innocent bystanders trying to help a woman and a little girl they found in a shipwreck out in a storm. That’s the only reason they ended up in the situation that they were in. While the lords have similar origins, being victims of Mother Miranda’s experiments to bring her daughter Eva back, an important distinction between them is that in the case of the lords, all four of them are still acting of their own free will. Yes, Mother Miranda has undeniable power over them. She leads the cult they are part of, she has control over the village, she is their superior. However, I really dislike when every negative action by the lords is pushed onto her, as if the lords are not all grown adults who are for the most part acting independently of her.

With Alcina, she is the head of her own extremely brutal crimes. I think a lot of people have forgotten quite how horrifying the situations of the maidens are, possibly due to the prevalence shipping between Alcina and the maidens, and though we have minimal information what we do know is very frightening. Alcina uses her work force like livestock, draining them for their blood in a cellar full of horrific torture devices, and leaves their corpses to shamble around, armed and ready to attack any unwanted guests that have slipped out of the daughter’s clutches so that Alcina still doesn’t have to do her own dirty work, given how highly above everyone but Mother Miranda she appears to view herself as. While yes, Alcina does need human blood to survive, her methods are brutal, and none of this has been enforced upon her by Mother Miranda. Similarly to Jack on occasion, she takes a great deal of pleasure in hurting and attacking Ethan as he runs from her. Additionally, everything she does to Ethan is against Mother Miranda’s request. While yes, it is retaliation after he killed Bela, the part I often see people leave out is that Alcina is equally as upset that he entered her property and was attempting to steal from her, and she isn’t just after him to kill him.

Alcina has also been an active participant in aiding Mother Miranda with at least one experiment, considering that I’d how she got her daughters. While I’m sure her strong admiration for Mother Miranda and Mother Miranda’s power over her has absolutely had an affect in this, that’s not something I’ll deny, Alcina is still a grown woman and in her written entries about this shows no qualms about her participation in this. Her general attitude towards others, using young women as a good source and turning men into scarecrows, also leads me to believe that she does not exactly care who gets hurt or taken advantage of when it comes to her and Mother Miranda’s personal endeavours.

Donna and Moreau are the two more sympathetic people within the four lords, but they are not innocent. To start with Moreau, he’s desperate for Mother Miranda’s approval, as well as the other lords. He’s insecure and lonely, and he’s doing what he has been instructed by Mother Miranda when it comes to protecting the flask. However, he does also take quite a bit of joy in trapping Ethan in the reservoir and swimming after him with the intention to eat and kill him. Moreau though, given his conditions and circumstances, is the one I think is the least to blame for what he does.

Donna is hard to discuss because we know so little about her. Her parents are dead, as well as whoever Claudia was to her, she communicates through Angie and she can cause those who enter her house to hallucinate. According to Mother Miranda, Donna is severely mentally ill and that is what has made her an unfit vessel. I think a lot of people took this to mean that Donna is unaware of what she is doing, that the hallucinations she is showing Ethan are frightening, but after having been a fan of this game for years I just can’t agree with that anymore. Donna intentionally lures Ethan into her house with visions of his supposedly dead wife. Donna is going after fears she likely knows Ethan has, making him relive Mia’s death, take apart a mannequin of her, listen to her voice panic over something being horribly wrong with Rose, all building towards the horrifying baby that chases him through the house. There is no way Donna doesn’t understand how what she is showing Ethan is distressing, especially when you consider that, given how she can make herself appear and disappear at will within Ethan’s vision and that Angie is sitting in the hallways stationary and unspeaking, Donna was likely close by Ethan at all times and could see and hear his frightened reactions to what she was intentionally showing him.

Donna’s death is upsetting, but Ethan was not just chasing her down and killing her. Donna was attacking him, or at least she was controlling her dolls to do so. It’s still a hallucination, but Ethan doesn’t know that. When faced with a threat that is keeping you trapped and trying to end your life, you will likely try to get away or try to fight back, as Donna is doing to Ethan after he starts to attack her and Ethan is doing to Donna when he thinks his life is still in danger. I would also like to remind everybody that Donna communicates through Angie. What Angie is saying, that’s Donna. Angie doesn’t talk or move once she’s dead, it is Donna who controls her.

Lastly, Heisenberg. I think Heisenberg is the one of the four most entrenched in headcanons. Headcanons are fine, I am never in this post trying to suggest they aren’t, but my issue comes in when people use them to try and change the canon of the game. For example, it’s fine to believe that Heisenberg was experimented on by Mother Miranda as a child, but that isn’t canon. It’s fine to believe that Heisenberg mourned the deaths of his siblings, but that isn’t canon. The opposite is, with Heisenberg not viewing the cult as an actual family and being very openly mean to all three other lords, even Donna and Moreau who seemingly haven’t done anything to slight him. While his goal of killing another Miranda is a very understandable and sympathetic one given what she has done to him, using a six month old baby as a weapon and trying to bring her father into the mix only to try to get him killed when he denies him is not. I cannot overstate quite how little Heisenberg actually cared for Ethan and Rose’s safety when it came to his goal, and given that we are playing as Ethan, Rose is the priority.

Heisenberg has built an army of corpses he has presumably stolen and desecrated. This is kind of fucked up actually, and done completely independently of Mother Miranda. He also puts Ethan through a very dangerous lycan gauntlet before he even reaches the factory, which makes it even stranger to me that people seem to interpret Heisenberg’s deal as something that would have benefitted both him and Ethan and as if he ever had Ethan’s safety in mind.

All four of the lords have tragic aspects to them and there are definitely reasons to sympathise with all four. They’re victims of Mother Miranda, who knows they will all be killed. She wants them to be, giving her less to deal with by the time she has Eva back. They never meant anything to her. Not Alcina or Moreau, who were desperate for her attention. Not Donna, suffering from her unspecified but apparently severe mental illness. Not Heisenberg, who was seemingly her favourite creation. However, all of them are grown adults who do their own bad things independently of her.

And it’s fine to still like them. It’s fine for them to be your favourite character. It’s fine to have happy or nice headcanons about them or want to kiss them or be their friend or to want them to have survived. It’s fine to like characters who do shitty things. It’s to be expected in a game series like Resident Evil. It’s a horror game series. People are going to do bad things.

I just find it so boring when people take away all their bite. What makes a character like Lady Dimitrescu so fun it’s that she’s completely over the top. She’s campy and ridiculous, her castle layout makes no sense, she’s got three kids made of swarms of flies dressed like a set of goth triplets, she’s a lesbian who’s castle is full of naked statues of women, she turns into a big dragon and laughs maniacally while flying around and trying to eat you. She’s evil and it’s fun. It’s the same with Heisenberg. He’s a campy show off with a fun voice and a massive hammer he never actually uses. He can control metal. He looks like a cowboy. He pronounced Miranda in a funny way. He talks to you over an intercom while trying to get you killed. They’re fun and evil and they fight over who gets to kill Ethan like they’re two little kids. It’s absurd.

What makes a character like Donna so scary is that she’s silently working in the shadows, unassuming at a first glance and unseen for most of the time in her house. She is the least threatening of the four upon first glance, and yet she has undeniably the most frightening part of the game. Pretending as if Donna is completely unaware of what she is doing and babying her like she is an incapable child waters her down completely and takes away from the effectiveness of her character.

Villain characters are great! They’re very often the highlight of the story they are in, and they aren’t real! The four lords especially are often so completely exaggerated in what they do as well. It’s fine to like villains! It doesn’t make you bad! Characters can be bad people and you can still like them!

It’s just frustrating seeing a group of very fun and exciting villains, all designed with different aspects of horror, all over the top and campy and stupid and fun, all doing their own set of fucked up things, watered down to a set of poor innocent victims who have never done any wrong ever. If you want Jack and Marguerite, take Jack and Marguerite. Lady Dimitrescu loves killing and eating women and Karl Heisenberg turns corpses into soldiers. They’re bad people and they do comically exaggerated bad things. If you can’t stomach liking a character like that, horror is probably not the genre for you. Unless it’s Resident Evil 7, I suppose, but apparently tall women aren’t hot when it’s Marguerite Baker crawling on the walls.

[milliumizoomi]

armando headcanons w his gf that is the total opposite of him? kind of like grumpy x sunshine? 😫

𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒

☆彡SUMMARY.; In which Armando doesn’t understand why for the love of god he fell in love with such a hyperactive woman.

☆彡FEATURED.; ARMANDO ARETAS x FEM!READER

☆彡TROPE.; ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP || GRUMPY x SUNSHINE

☆彡FORMAT.; HEADCANONS

☆彡GENRE.; FLUFF + CRACK + ANGST [if you squint]

☆彡WARNINGS.; Mature Language, mentions of violence, mentions of guns, mentions of possessiveness,

☆彡NOTES.; no cause I saw this request and immediately knew this was gon be tewwww funny😭,, thank u soooo much for the request love and I hope you all enjoy!!🩵

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED🎉.

★ firstly, I’d like to preface this by saying that you both met through his dad.. in a roundabout type of way

★ He was working a case with his dad, got shot at, the usual, shooter missed and you, an innocent bystander, almost got a hole put in your body had he not snatched you out of the way

★ and after that, he just became interested in you

★ his dad even game him a phone just so he can call and text you

★ and to be honest he wonders why.. because you’re “strange” he says

★ maybe it’s the fact that you didn’t even flinch when you almost got shot at, opting to thank him with a bright and warm smile

★ or maybe it’s the fact that as your relationship progressed, you found out who he was and what he does for a living and simply shrugged it off

★ he genuinely doesn’t get it.. at all

★ but you barely give him enough time to keep him thinking about that when every second you’re with him you’re practically bouncing off the walls

★ the both of you couldn’t be any different

★ you were practically a ball of hot radioactive energy, always laughing or smiling about anything at all

★ while he liked staying quiet, and when he does open his mouth it’s straight disrespect to anyone he’s taking to

★ so naturally, he finds you hard to deal with at times

★ not in the sense that he’s irritated with you, but in the sense that he wants to knock you out just so you can calm down

★ and if someone irritates him, you’d have to step in and excuse him before he can say anything that would get a gun pointed in his face or a fight breaks out

★ and when he’s around, you get fully dependent of him

★ seeming that he’s not around a lot having been in jail, whenever he does come out, whether it be a couple weeks or even months, whenever you get to see him it’s like you turn your brain off and let him make all the decisions

★ and as much as he hates to admit it, he actually doesn’t mind when you act like that (he loves it)

★ you act so wise eyed and elated everytime you’re with him

★ which throws off a lot of people in his circle of “associates” as he likes to call them

★ because how the hell did this happy go lucky woman get this is cold blooded murderer

★ and then you’ll just tell them “he’s hot and I love him so it works out”

★ and with you being so hyper and energetic, he’d definitely be reeling you in some of the time

★ he’d wouldn’t be rude with it though, but he’s very firm with you

★ like if he thinks you’re getting too loud when you’re in a group and having a conversation he’d be pull you into him by your waist so your back is on his chest

★ then he’d whisper in your, “calma tu trasero mamá” (Calm down your ass, mama)

★ and you ofc listened cause like.. who wouldn’t???

★ because of your personality, people tend to flock around you a lot, loving the energy you give off

★ he however, doesn’t play that shit and will tell people to back the fuck up

★ especially when he realizes that you’re starting to get uncomfortable

★ he’s possessive as shit so anybody he doesn’t know he doesn’t want crowding you or being in your space

★ you’d also bite him a lot and he’d let you

★ simply because your bites barely feel like anything since his pain tolerance is so high from all the fights and shoot outs he’s been in

★ and eventually, whenever you do manage to wear yourself out, he’ll carry you, whether it’s on his back or he picks you up by your thighs and wraps your legs around his waist

★ you definitely made him softer, to the people he knows like his dad and stuff, but that’s about it

★ and whenever he does get mad at you, he can’t even say he’s actually angry because you’d be smiling in his face

★ and when he is in jail and you go visit him, you carry his favorite foods and stuff and put little sticky notes with smiley faces and I love you messages that he can only crack a little smile and shake his head at

★ and seeming that your always so happy, you smile doing anything at all, and he loves that cause he thinks your smile is so pretty

★ that doubled with the fact that he finds your lips extremely sexy for some reason

★ and he’s actually very protective over you

★ type of boyfriend to say “wear what you want, I can fight”

★ you definitely soften up his image while with him

★ usually he’s the silent, intense type when he’s alone, but when you’re standing next to him, smiling up and him and pulling at him to go somewhere with you then the intensity goes down somewhat

★ that’s only cause he’s looking at you tho, when he has to look away from you that intensity comes right back

★ firmly believe also if and when he comes to you with injuries, you take care of them until you’re sure they’re all cleaned and wrapped properly

★ in private, he loves when you wash his hair or doing hair for him while you’re yapping away about something that happened while you were out that day

★ so in conclusion, you stress him out in the best way possible and he makes you put all you social abilities to good use to get his ass out of trouble

{TAGLIST} :: @loakswifesworld @ghettogirly @tinys0ftie @shurisgf || if you’d like to be added to the taglist just let me know in comments or dms😉💕.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Miss Raven, may I ask for a list of the flaws in Leona’s plan from 2nd book? I knew of a couple myself at some point but i forgot what they were 😅 I was hoping you could list off as many flaws in the plan as you could find. 🤔

Please note: This post ONLY addresses the issues with Leona's book 2 plans to get Malleus out of the picture as per the asker's question. Book 2 has several other issues with its narrative (such as Leona's lack of screen presence/interaction with Yuu and co.), but I will not be counting them here.

The problems with Leona's plan are, as I could identify them:

NO Savanaclaw students were among the injured. Does this not automatically make them look really shady????

Savanaclaw students form a wall around Ruggie to shield him from sight when he uses his UM. This, too, is hella suspicious... You're telling me that there's an oddly high number of Savanaclaw students at the scenes of the crimes and yet not one of them got injured??? IT MAKES THEM LOOK EVEN SHADIER THAN BEFORE, ESPECIALLY SINCE THEY HAVE A REALLY OBVIOUS MOTIVE.

Leona openly talks about his evil scheme in his own dorm. A dorm with seemingly no sturdy doors that open and shut. A dorm that just brought in a bunch of freshmen that he doesn't know well and may not be on board with what he's doing. A dorm with a lot of beastmen... that have sensitive ears... and can probably hear you monologuing from quite a distance away...

Ruggie is sloppy and Leona just does not care about it when he really, REALLY should care; he is overly reliant on a "lack of evidence" to exonerate them. Ruggie blatantly shows off his UM and reports this to Leona. Why does Leona show like ZERO concern about this?? Why does he believe the school cannot do anything without proof? Literally nothing is stopping Crowley from detaining him under suspicion of guilt, or at least having someone watch him like a hawk if they suspect something... which will just make it that much harder to execute his plan.

Leona doesn't seem to care either when Jack overhears his plan; he just... expects Jack to feel pressured by his dorm members + the hierarchy to not squeal???? Same issue as the previous bullet point; Leona should be caring a lot more about concealing their identities than this.

Leona assumes a regular ass stampede will be enough to kill/injure Malleus. The reason provided is that Malleus wouldn't dare to use his magic to get away when it might "harm" innocent bystanders. OKAY, what's stopping Malleus from poofing out of danger? This is an even stupider point because we literally see Malleus VANISH IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE when Yuu meets him for the first time in this very same book.

The potential political fallout. I doubt Twst intended to go into the consequences of what would have happened if Leona's dumb plan had succeeded, but surely if he was caught in the act or even suspected to have had a hand in it, it would impact the relationship between their countries since Leona and Malleus are both princes??? And that sounds like it would be a massive shitshow 💀

I've done my own book 2 rewrite, which attempts to address most of these issues with Leona's plan. There is also this follow-up post, which expands on some of the ideas I proposed in my initial rewrite. Tons of other people have book 2 rewrites as well! And you can write your own book 2 rewrite! Literally almost anything is better than the canon book 2--

[rhyslarsenlover]

DRIVE ME CRAZY

A RAFE CAMERON SOCIAL MEDIA AU

part two . part three . part four . masterlist .

cw: mentions of alcohol, couple innuendos, pretty chill. angsty tho!

“pass the bottle,” y/n mumbled, perched on sarah’s plush chair.

sarah, sitting cross-legged on the floor, smirked. “damn, you’re really going for it tonight, huh?”

y/n shrugged. “it’s been a week.”

she didn’t elaborate, and sarah didn’t press. 

outside, the cameron estate was too quiet, just the distant crash of waves and the occasional chirp of insects. inside, the house was warm, filled with the low hum of music and the clink of glasses. it was peaceful.

until it wasn’t.

because just as y/n was pouring herself another glass, the front door slammed open.

y/n barely reacted, but then she heard his voice.

rafe. laughing.

low and smug and unmistakable.

and, worse, he wasn’t alone.

sarah’s head snapped toward the doorway. y/n turned just in time to see rafe walk in, arm draped lazily around some random blonde. she was giggling at something he’d said, her hand resting on his chest like she belonged there.

y/n’s stomach flipped.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” sarah asked, deadpan.

rafe barely spared her a glance. “what’s it look like?”

y/n could already feel the irritation curling in her veins. he hadn’t even noticed her yet, hadn’t looked over at the couch where she was still holding a half-poured glass of wine.

it shouldn’t bother her. it shouldn’t.

but it did.

because just last week, he was acting like her business was his business. he was picking fights, sending cryptic texts, getting in her way at every turn. but now? now he was just bringing some random girl home like she didn’t exist?

sarah stood up, crossing her arms. “rafe, seriously?”

“what?” he smirked, finally glancing at her. his eyes flickered past sarah. landed right on y/n.

and for a second, just a second, his smirk dropped.

then it was back. “didn’t know we had guests,” he drawled. “would’ve brought more wine.”

y/n let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “oh, no need. i think you’ve got your hands full already.”

his smirk deepened, “you jealous, sweetheart?”

her grip on the glass tightened. she hated when he called her that. because it was always mocking. 

she plastered on a fake smile. “jealous? of what? the next girl you’re gonna disappoint? oh, please, rafe.”

sarah choked on her drink.

the blonde, who had, up until now, been clinging to rafe like a designer handbag, stiffened. y/n felt half bad, she didn’t mean to inadvertently offend the girl, she didn’t like making people feel like shit, especially an innocent bystander like her.

rafe hummed, stepping closer. “damn, y/n. if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you cared.”

she tilted her head. “i don’t.”

he took another step. too close now. “then why are you so mad?”

“i’m not mad.”

but she was. and she hated that he could see it.

rafe, of course, just ate it up. he looked amused, like he’d just won some game she didn’t know they were playing.

he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. then, with zero warning, he reached for the wine bottle sitting between them and took a long drink straight from it.

y/n scowled. “seriously?” he set the bottle down with a clunk. “what?”

“you’re disgusting.”

“and you’re insufferable.”

she scoffed, but before she could respond, he was already turning toward the stairs, muttering something under his breath as the blonde ran after him. 

sarah turned to y/n, eyebrows raised. “sooo, wanna explain what that was?” y/n rolled her eyes, sinking further into the couch. “whatever.”

sarah smirked. “you’re totally into him.” y/n groaned, throwing a pillow at her head.

sarah bursted out laughing, but it was abruptly cut off when they both heard the sharp click of heels against the hardwood stairs.

y/n looked up just in time to see the blonde storming back down, her purse slung over her shoulder, her expression pinched with irritation. she barely spared them a glance as she yanked open the front door.

"unbelievable," she muttered under her breath before disappearing into the night.

a/n: rafe being rude asf

taglist!!: @princesspeaxhh , @cokewithcameron , @lolasangelz , @a-sunflower-in-bloom , @rafecameronswhoore , @stoned-writer , @pogueprincesa hope u all enjoy my angels <3

[ghost-proofbaby]

AND I REMEMBER THINKING, ARE WE OUT OF THE WOODS YET?

summary: you and eddie are given a choice.

warnings: strong language, angst, everybody's a hypocrite (still), the sort of fake dating plot has officially entered the chat, sugar (reader) is specifically an idiot, minors dni

wc: 5.4k+

a/n: dedicating this chapter as a blatant birthday gift to @fracturedarkness. i am so grateful to have you in my life and absolutely adore you to the stars and back <3 thank you for supporting this story so much, and for always just generally being such an absolutely lovely person. we are so undeserving of your presence and light. ily so much my dear friend <3

☆ prev chapter | masterlist | next chapter ☆

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry for what I’m about to ask the two of you. Especially now that I know the truth.”

The lobby is cold as Matt’s words echo within the confines of your mind. 

It’s cold enough that the front receptionist dons a cardigan as she types away at the computer, and the security guard wears a jacket worthy of a Chicago winter to identify himself. Cold enough to send a shiver up your spine as you trail behind Matt to the elevators.

Cold enough that innocent bystanders don’t notice the severely chilly shoulder you offer to Eddie the entire time.

You haven’t looked at him more than the one time when you approached the front door of the building, only offering him a fleeting glance before the two of you followed the path of his agent. It’s clear that Eddie should know his way as well as Matt does, but it doesn’t stop him from purposefully trailing behind you. 

In an elevator full of mirrors, even when you should have no choice but to look at the man who has opened up a chasm within your chest, you keep strict eye contact with your own reflection. You can see Eddie in your peripherals, and you can see the look Matt offers him over your shoulder as well. 

For what it’s worth, I am sorry for what I’m about to ask the two of you.

Eddie had kept you a secret. 

Especially now that I know the truth.

Or spun you into a blatant lie. You don’t know which one is worse. 

“You know,” Matt mutters as he fiddles with a key ring, unlocking the door to what is clearly his office. The plaque on the door says his name. “Normally, when your agent is calling you repeatedly in the dead of night, it means answer him.” 

It’s clear he’s speaking to Eddie, so you let him answer as you slide in past Matt as he holds open the door, “I did answer.”

“And then hung up.”

“I was busy.”

“Clearly.”

The office is surprisingly large, probably a deliberate illusion aided by the panoramic windows that occupy an entire wall across from the door. There’s shelves of awards and photos, cleanly lined up in pristine condition, a few even appearing to be copies of ones you’d spotted in Eddie’s apartment. Plated plaques engraved with achievements, photos of moments of the utmost importance framed by sleek black wood. Photos of Eddie, photos of Corroded Coffin, photos of unfamiliar faces. There’s a few empty spots that reveal the need for dusting, but there’s nothing that makes you particularly ache.

Except for one photo. A photo taken the day that Eddie had clearly signed Matt on as his agent; a photo of him shaking Matt’s hand, the smile on his face never having been more superficial. It couldn’t have been more than a month after the tour that you’d left him during. 

“I don’t understand why the front cover of some stupid ass magazine is so important,” Eddie grumbles as he follows you now, both of you deciding to stand and not yet sit in the empty chairs on the closest side of what must be Matt’s massive desk, “The tabloids run rumors about my dating life all the time-”

“Exactly.”

The door slams shut behind Matt, and he doesn’t bother to lock it. You’re sure whatever is about to transpire, Matt has informed the entire building to leave the three of you alone as you talk. 

“The tabloids are constantly running headlines about you and your mysterious affairs,” Matt continues as he rounds the desk, heading straight for a fairly comfortable looking office chair, “You’re always adding more fuel to the fire. And the label is getting sick of it, Eds.” 

There’s an edge to his tone that has you taking a seat the moment he waves for the two of you to do so. Eddie to your left, and a shelf of all that he is now to your right. A life he’s built without you. A life he drafted the blueprints for with you. 

“I don’t think I’ve heard anyone call him Eds in years,” you whisper under your breath, staring at the grey carpet below the soles of your feet. 

Neither man pays you any mind for the time being. 

“I can’t control the press, Matt.”

“You could. You just don’t want to.” 

“To-may-toe, to-maw-toe,” Eddie waves off into the air, slumping into the stagnant chair he now occupies, “My job is to make music, not make some perfect image.” 

“No, my job is to keep your image digestible, at the very least,” Matt is scowling so deeply, you’re convinced you’re watching new wrinkles imprint into his skin in real time, “You and I both know that these days, it’s about more than the music. People need to like you so you can sell records. And all you’ve done is an exceptional job at pissing the people off.” 

You finally, finally spare a glance to Eddie, and his glare matches Matt’s, “It’s never been an issue before.”

Matt lets out a scoff, making your head whip to him, “Oh, no. It certainly has been. The only time it wasn’t an issue was before you signed me as your agent.” 

“That’s why I hired you,” Eddie smiles, but there’s not an ounce of joy behind the curl of his lips, “Right?” 

Matt nods for a few beats, before he turns his head at a leisurely place to level you with a stare. The glare melts microscopically, some form of pity behind his older eyes. 

“You did, and that’s the issue.” 

When Matt’s hands come up to rest on his desk, you notice him immediately toying with the corner of the shortest stack of papers on his desk. Only a few pages, and you don’t miss the several blank spaces left deliberately throughout the top page.

A contract. 

“I’ve done the best that I could with what you’ve given me to work with, but…” Matt trails off, eyes darting to Eddie only momentarily before focusing on you once more, “You haven’t been submitting nearly as many songs as your contract outlined. You’ve been busier making headlines than you have been making albums. I- They’re pissed off, Eddie. The label is pissed off now, and they’re up my ass.” “Sounds like a you problem.” Now, it’s you glaring at Eddie. 

All his hackles are raised, the portrait of who he’s been trying to convince everyone that he has become over the last two years painting over all the lines of the man you’d been digging after these last few weeks. Overshadowing the promise of a good man by a simple, jagged tone of voice. 

“No, it’s a you problem,” you snap, making both men finally have no choice but to acknowledge you, “You’re the one who wants to be a rockstar, not Matt. If you’d pull your head out of your ass long enough to actually listen to him, maybe he could actually help you.” 

It’s crueler than necessary. A slap to Eddie’s awe-stricken face. “I-” he starts, but your glare sharpens, eyes narrowing at him as he tries to ready a counter-argument, and it’s clear the fight dies on his tongue as he sighs, “Fine – fine. What do we do about it, Matt?” 

When the unspoken battle fizzles out, reluctantly on your part and eagerly on Eddie’s, Matt is simply onlooking with the faintest of smiles. 

“What?” Eddie questions immediately, clearly just as confused by you in his sudden change in demeanor, “Why are you smiling?” 

“Her.” 

He nods curtly in your direction, grin growing a bit wider. It does little to answer the question. 

“Me?” you ask, lifting a ginger finger to rest against your chest.

“You,” Matt repeats, and nods a bit more eagerly for a few seconds before he rifles those papers in front of him again, “Just now. You watched the way we were going back and forth. I can’t get through to Eddie-” a short pause in which Eddie almost speaks up, but one lift of your hand to signal him to stay quiet is effective, “-but you clearly can. He went from argumentative to agreeable in seconds. He became digestible, all because of you.” 

Your stomach sinks. You can see where this is going, even if Eddie can’t, as you croak out, “It could have been a one-off. Sheer luck.” 

The contracts. The headlines. The meeting with both of you. 

“I don’t think it was.” 

You’ve read about this somewhere, in some awful and painfully predictable romance book. You’ve seen a movie about this before, in some rundown and eerily empty theater as the cheesy rom-com occupies the big screen. “I can’t control Ed-” you start, but Matt is quick to cut you off.

“You’ve gotten more out of him in the last three weeks than I have in the last year,” Matt points out, leaning forward on his desk, palms making the wood creak, “He’s in the studio, making more music than I can even keep track of. He’s willing to get involved in the band's decisions, not even sleeping through the meetings with the suits these days.” 

Eddie scoffs as he shifts uncomfortably, “Maybe I’m just inspired.” 

“I’m sure you are,” Matt readily agrees, “By her.” 

The fucking contracts. You’ve already had to sign on to be involved in Eddie’s life for a full three months, smoke and mirrors about closure and just surviving these months having filtered through your lungs since the moment you stepped foot in that conference room. 

For what it’s worth, I am sorry for what I’m about to ask the two of you.

This was about to become about far more than just arranging a party for a single release. This was about to become about far more than just getting closure. 

“Just get it over with,” you whisper, staring blankly at papers you can practically read already, even upside down. You’re not an idiot – you realize now what Matt, what the label wants. “Say it.”

Eddie’s still in the dark as he glances at you, “Say what?” 

Matt shares a knowing look with you. Almost sad, almost remorseful. As if he isn’t about to ruin your life. As if he isn’t about to ask you to burn down every single thing you had built up with your own bare hands. 

Just over a month ago, you had been convinced you’d finally closed the chapter on this part of your life. You had let the ink dry, you had let the fresh pages cool, and you had damned the entire novel of you and Eddie to the attic of your past. To gather dust, to be eaten away by the moths, to be forgotten as you moved along with life – you swore it was finally over.

And now this. Now, you were contracted to help him with the damn release party for a song certainly about you. Now, Matt was about to ask you to sign away the last of your sanity, all for the sake of the man you thought you’d finally slammed the door on. 

“You think I can control Eddie, that I could be good for his image,” you say flatly, not sparing a glance at the problem child beside you, “You think I can fix the mess he’s made, because you can’t. You’re assuming, and assuming, and assuming,” you take a deep breath, moments away from breaking apart, not letting it show as you lean back in the chair, “Assuming is bad for business, Matt.” 

To your surprise, Matt nods in agreement, “It is. So don’t let me make an ass of myself – prove the assumptions right,” Finally, he grabs a pen, bringing it to lay atop of the contracts. “I’ve already pitched the idea to the big shots upstairs. They’ve already approved it.” 

Eddie lurches forward, “What idea?” 

Matt ignores Eddie’s question, the conversation spiraling into tunnel vision between you two, “Again, I am sorry.” 

He slides the contracts in a circle, finally making them legible to you and Eddie. 

PUBLIC RELATIONS (PR) AGREEMENT.

Eddie takes the time to read the sentences, littered with blank spaces perfectly sized to fit your legal names. Spots for dates, empty boxes for initials. 

A neatly wrapped up present – a professional PR stunt in a contract. 

“Matt, what is this?” Eddie’s voice is shaking as he gets about halfway through the page, “What the fuck does this mean?” 

“PR stunts are common in the industry,” Common with problem rockstars, he means, “Sometimes they’re simple agreements to benefit both parties, and sometimes they’re last ditch attempts at saving someone’s image. It’s the latter, for you.” 

Eddie isn’t piecing it together fast enough. Or maybe he has, and he’s just in denial. 

“Say it fucking plainly, or I’ll leave this office and-”

“It’s time to kill your bachelor image,” Matt grabs a second pen, working mechanically as though he’s gone into autopilot, “Tame the bad boy image, as I put it to the suits.”

“You want me to agree to be Eddie’s fake girlfriend,” you take over the explaining, since Matt won’t just say it, “You want us to sign a contract, and promise to play nice in public. Act so in love the entire public forgets that Eddie ever trashed a hotel room or stuck his tongue down some random’s throat-” 

“I haven’t done that publicly in months,” he snaps, now looking harshly at you, clearly infuriated the more he reads. 

“No, but the rumors still circulate,” you recall your Google search that night before Eddie came properly barrelling back into your life, “The only thing people love to gossip about more than someone’s downfall, is their love life.” 

“Exactly.” Matt clicks one pen, and puts it closer to Eddie. “So help me out, and give them something good to talk about for once.” 

You need a moment; you need to consider it all, you need to weigh out the pros and cons. The room is suffocating, all that dust you’d previously noticed now itching your throat and the fabric of the chair stabbing far too uncomfortably against your skin through your clothes. The large windows can’t stop the walls from closing in.

“No,” Eddie barks out, throwing himself back from the paper as though it might burn him, “No.”

“Eddie, please trust me when I say-” 

“I’m not doing this – I’m not doing this to her.” 

“You’ve already done it to me,” you laugh bitterly, leaning forward and pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes until you see stars. Until the space behind your eyes aches. “The headline went viral online, right?”

“Yeah,” guilt seeps into Matt’s words, “It did.” 

“Have they figured out who I am?” 

The they in question being the fans – the they in question being the tabloids. If just one person recognizes you and cracks the code, you’ll be the talk of the town for at least a month, regardless if you sign the contract or not. 

You’re the first girl to ever be taken back to the infamous Rockstar’s apartment. The first to ever make it past the threshold of the bars, the clubs, the afterparties. 

It’s already a big deal. 

“Not from what I’ve seen,” When Matt slides a pen over to you, he makes a point to not click it. A choice is very clearly being given. Eddie is expected to sign, no longer being given a choice, but you? You don’t have to do this, “There've been a few D list model’s names thrown out, and a few people thought it might even be a B lister in a wig, but… they don’t know it’s you, yet.” 

Yet. But they will, eventually. The general public is capable of astonishing things when they set their minds to it. No doubt, there would be a way for them to resurface old photos of you and Eddie prior to the band skyrocketing to success, or someone who knows you will recognize your blurry side profile in the paparazzi’s pictures.

Eddie doesn’t budge on his stance, arms crossed and eyes blazing, “What’s the alternative?” 

“Excuse me?” Matt raises a brow.

“The alternative,” one of Eddie’s ringed hands flourishes through the air, “What can we do instead of this?” 

You already know what Matt is about to say before he opens his mouth. You already know the ultimatum about to be presented to the two of you. 

“You only have two options,” he sighs, a pregnant pause before he continues, “Either you sign this contract, we arrange the fake dates and press, so on and so forth. Or you cut off all communications. The two of you are never even seen in the same city again, if possible. You,” he pauses to nod towards you, “Will sign an NDA before disappearing from Eddie’s circle entirely. And you,” he then nods to Eddie, a bit more stern as he looks to his client, “will have to go through the process of signing some other sort of damage control scheme. Likely either an arrangement with someone else of the label’s choosing, or a contract of celibacy for the next year or so. Put it into writing that you’ll be the angel child of the label for an indefinite amount of time.”

You’re still reeling a bit from the threat of having to vanish from Eddie’s life once more, for good this time, when you catch onto that last part, “If I don’t agree to this, you’ll just replace me with someone else?” 

The image coming to mind through the fog makes you sick, and not for the expected reasons. It’s not the image of Eddie with his hands on someone else that makes your skin crawl. It’s not the picture of Eddie singing songs on a stage every night, songs written about you, and claiming they’re about some other lover in the crowd. 

It’s the look on his face. 

The fall of every muscle, the spark of fear behind umber eyes. The immediate fiddling of rings that exposes all the anxiety building up beneath his skin. 

The thought of being in his shoes, and being forced to pretend to love a stranger, all because of a few mistakes.

And - okay, well, a few mistakes is an understatement. Eddie did this to himself. He had dug this grave, shovelful by shovelful, all by his own doing. He had made his bed; he should have to sleep in it. 

But you can’t. You can’t let him when you see the shakes in his breath and the sincere regret, when you recall every single moment from the night before with such striking clarity. Even after all that the two of you have been through, you can’t resist that inherent urge to protect him. 

You can’t quiet the voice that whispers that you still care for him, and you still want to be there for him, even at your own destruction. 

He opens his mouth, surely about to seal his fate and agree to the one thing you know he doesn’t want to do but will for your sake, when you beat him to the punch line. 

“I’ll do it.” 

You don’t want to vanish again. You want to stay. You want to fight. 

“What?” Eddie looks up to you, and he looks close to tears, “What, no. You’re not doing this-” 

You ignore him, swallowing hard as you nearly jump out of the chair to retrieve the pen and glance over the paper until you find a random spot to begin signing at. The click of the pen drowns out his protest, and the angry scribbling across the paper shuts him up entirely. 

The signature is messier than the one you’d scanned into the computer for all your emails, but it will do. 

“Why would you do that?” Eddie asks, eyes wild as he reaches out to take the pen from you. But it doesn’t matter – the damage is done, “Why the fuck would you sign that?” 

“You heard him,” you try to keep a steady tone, you really do, but you fail miserably. You refuse to look in Eddie’s eyes, instead choosing to channel all your glaring and all your anger towards Matt, “It was this or I leave again. It was the easiest option for everyone involved.” 

Matt is riddled with disbelief – he clearly hadn’t thought you’d do it. He had thought he’d lost the battle. 

“I…” he glances down at the paper, avoiding looking at Eddie’s hands that still hovers to snatch away the pen, instead choosing to point at another blank line towards the top of the page before he clears his throat to assume a professional voice, “Please print your name here.”

Eddie’s hand falls away, and as you carve out the letters on the parchment, you swear it’s your blood staining the page rather than the ink. 

—

“Are you fucking insane?” 

Once the two of you had finished filling out all the dreadful paperwork, Matt had offered to call a car to take you both back to the studio. 

“I’m not the one screaming in the street right now.” 

You were starting to regret not requesting a separate car from Eddie.

“Why the fuck would you sign that contract?” he continues his tirade, hands flailing as he stands before you on the sidewalk. “We had options, Sugar! Fucking options-” 

“Shitty options,” you finally snap, leaning around his figure, glancing down the busy street for any sign of the black SUV that would be picking you up, “We had shitty options, and I chose the lesser of the two evils.” 

“Lesser of two evils?” he laughs bitterly, hand shoving down into his pocket, producing a pack of cigarettes, “I was ready to tell him to just get one of those D list models on the phone. I had one rule, one fucking rule, and we’ve managed to break it with one flick of a pen.” 

As he pulls out a cigarette, lighter appearing in his other hand as he cups the stick between his teeth, you decide to humor him, “And what would that one rule be? Hm?” 

He takes his time. Lights the cigarette, takes a long drag, holds it in his lungs as he shoves the lighter back deep within his pocket. His eyes find yours carefully just as the first wisps of smoke slip free from between his lips, breeze ruffling his curls across his forehead. 

“Keep you out of it.”

Your mouth snaps shut just as another strong breeze whips around the two of you.

What the fuck can you say to that?

“Keep me out of it?” you repeat his words in dubiety, creases forming between your brows, “What do you mean keep me out of it?”

You’re going in circles today, continuously returning to asking questions you already know the answers to. It doesn’t take a genius to decipher what Eddie means by his rule. 

The notebook of songs that have yet to see the light of day. The way his past was seemingly erased the moment the band shot into stardom. The lack of your name and memory having ever been so much as uttered in an interview. The fact that even Matt hadn’t known the truth about you two. 

You had originally been hurt at the erasure of you from the history of Eddie Munson, but there’s something breaking behind his eyes currently that offers explanation. 

“Out of this entire shit show,” his breaths are hard and heavy as he flicks the ash off the cigarette, making no move to take a second drag, “Out of all the rumors, out of all the fucking headlines. I just- I just didn’t want them to ruin you, too.” 

And yet, here you were. 

“What’s done is done,” you mutter, an SUV turning onto the street that you have a hunch is heading your way, “Not like we can unsign the contracts.” 

The car is, in fact, yours. Eddie opens the door after stomping out his cigarette. He holds it open long enough for you to climb in first, following quickly after and slamming the vehicle shut. Cutting off all the noise of the outside world and immediately leaving the two of you to be alone, properly alone, once more. 

Save for, of course, the driver.

But the man doesn’t even so much as glance back at the two of you in the backseat before he’s slowly setting the car into motion once more, already beginning to navigate the roads back to the studio. 

Until suddenly, Eddie is piping up, an irritable voice capable of echoing about the inside of the SUV.

“Take us back to my apartment,” he demands, but when you glare at him from the side, he clears his throat and adds on a measly, “Please.”

It’s a start. There’s a long road ahead, but it’s a start. 

You expected the entire ride to be filled with arguments. Under the assumption that Eddie would be too riled up to care about the driver’s presence, you sit tensely and wait for him to throw the first punch once more. Make a comment about what you’d last said before getting in the car, once again scrutinize the decision you had made. He’d never been silent in his anger; he was always loud, always made it known. He’d always claimed, back in Hawkins, he’d rather you know he’s angry so the two of you could fix it. 

But he doesn’t say a word. His jaw twitches with irritations, his eyes stay focused on the passing sidewalk out his window rather than you, and his entire body remains an impenetrable distance from your own. Even on the roughest of turns, he never allows his knee to so much as bump yours.

He’s not making it known. He’s not offering the option to fix it.

You fall into old habits immediately, youth insecurities as you simmer in the silence and the boil of a fight that has to happen eventually – right? The fight is unavoidable. The fight had already technically begun outside of Matt’s office. He has to make it known at some point; he has to say what needs to be said so the two of you can just fix it. 

But then a hoarse voice in the back of your mind whispers, what if he doesn’t see this as something worth fixing? 

Had you even seen it as something worth fixing? 

You had been the one to leave originally. You had been the one to not make it known to him all those years ago, never using your words to tell him how you had felt and leave the door for redemption wide open. You had been the one that had evaluated the situation, and for some strange reason, deemed your relationship with someone you had truly believed you’d spend the rest of your life with as something to just run from. 

By the time the car has arrived outside of Eddie’s building, you’re a mess. Metaphorically, physically, mentally. A tragic mess. 

He still holds open the door for you, still nods at your squeak of thanks as you shuffle past him. He still mutters a pitiful goodbye to his driver. And he still won’t look at you, won’t speak to you. 

Something inside of you burns. Had he even intended for you to follow him into the apartment? Or had he hoped you would have given your address to the driver as he slid out of the seat, set your eyes on your own home and away from him? 

It’s funny, the way one quick signature and you’re back to square one of your youth. Insecure and unsure, second guessing every choice. The entire persona you had built up over two long years has officially crumbled, and you don’t even have to look into a mirror to absolutely hate the girl staring back now. 

At least before, the catch of your reflection in the shining walls of an elevator wouldn’t make you sick to your stomach. At least in those two long years, you could stand the sound of your own breathing. 

Each step down the hall and towards Eddie’s front door after the quiet elevator ride is haunted. More self-doubt, more anger at yourself. The pad of the soles of your shoes against carpeting is a drumming heartbeat building up to something. 

That something snaps when Eddie unlocks the door. 

He motions for you to enter first, but you stand your ground. Staring him down, silently urging him to just fucking look at you. 

“After you,” he mumbles when you make no move to walk past him, waving his hand a second time as he continues to stare at the ground. 

You were both different people. Personas don’t just crumble because you sign a contract. You were still someone head-strong, someone capable, someone who could be sure of herself. You weren’t some naive child, lost in the thrills of your first grandiose love. And Eddie was no longer the boy you’d spent long days and longer nights with at Lover’s Lake, and at local record shops every Sunday. He was no longer the person you’d kiss dizzy as the incense burned on the shelf. He was someone new, someone different, someone unfamiliar. 

And yet, even in knowing all of this, attempting to redrill it all into your head once more, you also know that some things will never have to change. Some things between the two of you will always stay the same.

You want one of those things to be making the anger known. 

“Look at me,” the demand comes out soft, a bit more feeble than you’d wanted, but it still comes out all the same. The words fall from your lips, and you swear you see Eddie flinch.

He doesn’t look up. 

“Eddie,” you say, a bit more urgently, a tad bit more desperate, “I know you’re pissed so-”

“I don’t wanna do this. Not here.” 

You take a sharp breath, and bite back the urge to spit out tough luck, “Well, I do.” 

“Do you?” When his head finally snaps up and his eyes finally meet yours, it’s as if ice shards have replaced all your blood, chilling your system to its core, “Do you really? You wanna finish that fight we started back in the studio, right here – right outside of my apartment?” 

There it is: the anger. It strains every syllable of every word of his. But there’s still hope, all because of one little word.

The fight we started. 

We. Not just you, not just him. We.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, something in you eager at him finally just acknowledging it once again. His silence had been cruel, his brooding had been torture, and it’s easier to hear the venom he directs to you than nothing at all. “I do. I want to fight.” 

Did something just soften in his eyes, or are you just delusional? Are you that desperate to crave and imagine him feeling all the same things you were feeling? You want him to want this; you want him to want the fight, because then, it means there’s still something to fix. 

“Can we at least do it inside the apartment?” he flatly requests, lips a fine line as he levels you with that same dead stare. Dead, with glimmers of something buried alive beneath the surface. 

Something. Anything. 

He was never a stain. He isn’t an old maroon, seeped into the cotton of your existence, rusting over your past. He’s something here, something tangible, in this very moment. He’s fresh wine rushing down your chest, he’s vibrant scarlet sticking to your skin. The potential of a stain, but for now, the wound is still wet. Still fresh. Still something you can wipe away, if you play your cards right. 

You walk through his door, shoulder brushing his chest, and you almost wonder if you’re even willing to play your cards right. This time, you almost consider if what you want, what you’ve always wanted, is for Eddie to leave a stain on you that could never be cleaned away. 

After all, what is a stain if not a reminder of something loved, something worth keeping, fixed or not?

The door shuts softly behind Eddie as he trails in behind you, and with a final sigh and click of the lock, he turns to you.

“Alright. Let’s fight.”

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