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[mirroredmasquerader]

So I made a series of vital errors and I am hyperaware that no one followed me for this content.

However.

There's this game-

[chaoswillcalmusdown]

sometimes my app forcibly throws me into the 'for you' side of tumblr and like. idk why so many posts about season 3 are phrased as 'why does claire get to fuck carmy but syd doesnt?' 'why does everyone get to be happy but syd doesn't'. there's such a vitriol specifically directed towards the fact that syd is not happy in the narrative currently. sorry, remind me who are these everyones who are happy on this television show? is carmy happy? is richie? is fak? is marcus?

[star-girl69]

I Did Something Bad

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: you somehow become the target of a deadly vendetta, and it ends in an overnight stay in the infirmary, a lot of blood, and a lot of your scary girlfriend being her scary self.

a/n: save me clarisse “touch her and die” la rue save me save me save me save me save me save me… this is a completely self indulgent fic and no i will not apologize. love y’all!!!!!

inspired by an ask @nvirskies sent me

I Did Something Bad - Taylor Swift

warnings: not proofread, VERY VIOLENT AND GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF Y/N GETTING INJURED!!!!! BLOOD!!!!! WOUNDS!!!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, anyways…. DANNNNNYYYYYY MY BABY!!!!! HES BACK!!!!!, ares cabin bonding time <3, FOUND FAMILY, y/n is crazy too, insane power couple who are insane together!!, y’all know what’s going on…… protective clarisse, possessive clarisse, insane clarisse, murderous clarisse, again clarisse gets a bit too into capture the flag, swearing, attempted murder!, LOTS of violence, kissing, clarisse hates talking about her feelings but she will do it for y/n, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Clarisse loves capture the flag.

It’s the one place where she really gets to be in her element. That’s where she prefers to be- in the moment, hard and fast, a flurry of swords and adrenaline and the feeling of someone surrendering.

Of course, Clarisse is never the one surrendering. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone surrender to her.

Clarisse loves capture the flag.

And that love is also shared by her equally violently-minded siblings, which is why you’re sitting on her lap in the middle of the Ares cabin, listening to everyone scream and shout about tactics and plans and things that are just general boring.

Clarisse, of course, listens to everything. Silently humming to herself, drumming her fingers against your stomach, rolling her eyes and scoffing silently at some of her siblings ideas.

They all shout out ideas, but everyone knows that Clarisse has the final say.

You should probably be preparing with your own cabin- but this is just so much fun.

The tension in the room rises significantly after Nelson shuts down another one of Carrie’s ideas. Carrie has a mind made for the strategy of battle, where Nelson is all tough war and pain.

Clarisse likes to brag that she’s the perfect mix of both.

“I’m bored,” you huff, leaning back into your girlfriend. “Can they start punching each other again? Or something entertaining?”

She laughs and wraps her arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder. “You’re so violent,” she mumbles. “I’m supposed to be the violent one.”

“I jus’ think it’s really funny,” you shrug. “Like, can you blame me? It’s objectively funny.”

Danny, your favorite of Clarisse’s siblings, skitters through his older siblings and throws himself onto the couch next to you.

“Did they start fighting yet?” he asks, practically bouncing in his seat.

“No,” you sigh, dramatically.

Clarisse puts her arm around his shoulder, and you know she feels ridiculously proud over the fact that she’s the favorite of the most lovable member of the Ares cabin, and the fact you’re literally draped over her.

Not your fault she’s so comfy.

“Hey, how you feelin’ about tomorrow?” you ask Danny.

His face hardens. “I’m gonna fuck a bitch up.”

“Oh, my Gods,” you mutter, listening to Clarisse chuckle and pat his back.

“Hell yeah,” she smiles.

“Good!” you say after a second, feeling slightly disturbed over the 11 year-old’s colorful language. But, who are you to stop him?

Clarisse sighs after a moment, and you look up to see Carrie and Nelson finally at each other’s throats. Besides for the fact it’s just so funny when the siblings fight, they should get all of the anger out now so they can work as a team tomorrow.

“Well, no, Nelson, we aren’t gonna fucking ‘kill them with kindness,’ because that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey, fuckers,” Clarisse says, but they’re too absorbed in the fight to hear her.

You scramble off of her, climbing over Danny, watching in amazement as he opens the bag of pretzels he did not have in his hand a second ago- stuffing one in his mouth and holding it out to you.

These pretzels might have been buried in between the couch cushions. But they’re sealed, so who cares.

“You know what, fuck you, Carrie!” Nelson shouts, pushing her back.

“Askin’ for it,” she laughs, winding up and punching him straight in the face.

You can’t feel bad for the crunch, because Nelson should have know Carrie was gonna punch him- he could have at least put in an effort to stop her. Instead, he just stood there and took it.

“Oh,” Matty winces, sliding next to you. Why the hell are random things just appearing? Did he come out of the cushions too? Probably, seeing as he’s always falling asleep. “Askin’ for it,” he mumbles, shaking his head.

Nelson recovers from the hit and jabs at Carrie- but she stands there, hand on her hip, completely still.

Clarisse catches his arm.

He’s breathing out heavily, and the room goes pretty much silent- except for you, Danny and Matty chomping on pretzels in the corner of the couch.

“You’re fuckin’ embarrassing, Nelson.”

He pulls himself away from her and huffs, heading to the bathroom to deal with his bright red cheek.

Clarisse sighs heavily.

“Gods, can’t have one night without someone punching someone.”

Carrie looks around the room with a smug smile, scoffing when Clarisse shoulders her as she walks past. She lays down in your waiting arms, kissing your hand as you wrap them around her.

“Gettin’ on my nerves,” she mumbles, closing her eyes and leaning into you.

“I know,” you soothe, turning around and making a silly face to Danny at her dramatics.

—-

Nelson is obviously still angry the next day. His helmet doesn’t cover all of the nasty bruise on his cheek, a sickening purple against his tan skin.

Him and Carrie swap glares across the the throngs of red helmets.

“Okay, Carrie, stop,” you huff. “He might actually kill you. You’re the one who got a punch in- let it go.”

She turns to glare at you, now.

“Tell him to stop staring at me.”

“Well, you can help by looking away first.”

“Fine,” she mumbles, putting her helmet on and tightening her grip on her sword. Chiron made his usual speech around 10 minutes ago, and Clarisse has finally finished updating everyone- more like yelling incoherently at everyone- about their positions.

But you have a similar strategy.

The blue team has the brains of the Athena Cabin, but the red team has all the brute strength.

Clarisse huffs, walking over to you and Carrie.

“Okay, ready?” she asks, reaching over to tighten the straps of your armor- even through they’re perfectly fine- by habit.

Carrie let’s out a deep breath. “Yes. Very ready to fuckin’ pummel those blue shits and pretend they’re Nelson.”

“That’s the spirit!” you smile, slapping her shoulder. She rolls her eyes and steps away from you, smiling slightly.

Danny and Matty walk over, and your little band is complete. You hunt in the woods just south of the flag, deterring a lot of hopefuls. The older campers know to come up with sneakier ways to get by, but Clarisse is otherwise confident in those she placed by the flag to really protect it.

You strike out into an offensive stance, pointing the end of your blade straight at Danny- and he quickly counters with his own impeccable stance.

“Oh, yeah, they don’t stand a chance,” you smile, and he returns it.

—-

You take your normal routes through the woods.

With the added weight of you and Danny, the group is not as stealthy as they could be- but Clarisse is a secret teddy bear who doesn’t like to be away from you for long, and Danny is too young to be set loose, left to watch the big kids work, occasionally jumping in for a few swings.

Leaves crunch under your feet in the otherwise silent forest. You’ve already come across a few stragglers, and before you could even raise your sword the Ares siblings had disarmed them. Your heart squeezed seeing the absolutely heartbroken look on Danny’s face- he was promised that this time he could really fight.

And after you pulled Clarisse off to the side and reminded her of her deal- Danny was leading the group, with you and Clarisse behind him.

He marches tall and proud, sword pointed out, even though Clarisse scolds him and says his arm will get tired- he’s young and doesn’t listen to his half-sibling.

You smile, watching him, admiring how carefree he is. The walk continues mostly in a stealthy silence- Clarisse, Carrie and Matty has mastered the art of walking silently- so your cover is lost by you and Danny.

Of course, whenever you try to convince Clarisse that maybe you should go somewhere else- she looks at you like you’ve suddenly turned into a female Minotaur.

Clarisse, her hand in yours right now, has a hard time understanding the concept that she can’t be with you all the time. That you might get hurt, that she can’t always stop it.

It’s sweet how constantly concerned she is over you, it makes your stomach twist so good.

She squeezes your hand, bringing you out of your reverie. Voices.

“Danny,” you whisper, almost silently, kicking the back of his leg. When he turns around, frown on his face, you point towards the direction of the voices- and now footsteps.

You all stop in your tracks.

Danny practically jumps up in down, you smile wide, and Clarisse signals to Carrie and Matty, urging you and Danny closer to the action.

When they come into the clearing, a few Hermes kids dressed in blue bandanas, swords in their hands. They’re all strong, you’ve seen them around- recognize them vaguely as potentials that lost to Clarisse in ugly sparring matches.

The siblings have disappeared into the trees.

So it’s just you, unsuspecting, and Danny.

You can see the triumphant looks on their faces.

Except for one of them.

Nicky, maybe? You don’t care enough about him to know his name. But there’s something more in his eyes that you notice immediately, something similar to the passion Clarisse gets in her eyes at the mention of this game.

Danny jumps forward, sword swinging just the way his blood knows, the way his siblings have taught him meticulously.

They seem momentarily surprised at the force his small body can produce, quickly countering with their own jabs, swords clashing together. The other focuses on you.

You’re not worried, you know the siblings are just letting the two of you have your moments before they really come in and you can sit back and watch Clarisse fight. Muscles rippling, sick smile on her face, spear glowing with electricity.

He comes at you and your swords clash together, the force of it making your teeth ring- Gods, he’s strong. He pulls back and you do the same thing a few more times, neither of you able to get the upper hand- until he finally seems to realize his height advantage.

He swings his sword down on you, pressing down hard- and with gravity on his side you have to put all of your focus into stopping that downward sword.

You don’t see his foot coming out to kick you back.

You only feel it, boot in your chest, wind knocked out of you, groaning as you slam into the ground.

“Fuck,” you breathe, tasting blood in your mouth.

“Y/N!” Danny shouts, and that’s when you see his sword coming down on you again. He does it on purpose, that much is sword, the strategic placing of his sword slicing through the top of your arm.

He doesn’t mean to kill you. He means to hurt you.

His purpose isn’t winning the game, you realize as the blade tears through skin, his purpose is to hurt you. That’s what you saw in his eyes.

Delight that his prey was right in front of him.

The realization washes over you like a wave- but like the real ocean, another one comes- an overwhelming feeling of pain, blooming outward like a flower.

He bites his lip in concentration, standing over you as his blade sinks into the dirt. He smiles wide, hitting his target.

You scream.

It’s a quick stop. The clearing is filled with the sound of your screams, swords stopping in midair- everyone realizing simultaneously that you’re really hurt. That this boy hurt you on purpose.

Something cuts through the air, wind in your ears, swiftly burying itself through Nicky’s armor and into his side.

You’ve realized in the last day that men are stupid. First, it was Nelson not expecting to get punched, and now it was Nicky not prepared for a retaliation after hurting you.

The thick armor slowed down the spear, so it unfortunately stabs his side and falls right out.

He yells in pain, ripping off his armor, revealing a small cut. Nothing compared to yours, but you can faintly recognize the fire in his eyes before Matty is leaning over you and Carrie is wrapping a bandana above the pain in your arm.

You hear the sounds of something happening, someone fighting, skin on skin.

You hear all of this, you see all of it, but all you can feel is the burning, burning cut in your arm. It feels like he cut it off. Your mind is hazy, you know blood is gushing, you never knew something could hurt this bad.

You faintly realize you bit your tongue when you went down. Blood spurts from your mouth when you cough, when you groan in pain, when you say her name like a prayer over and over again.

“Clarisse,” you moan, legs twisting around, trying to get away from the pain that you can’t escape from. “Clarisse, Clarisse, please, Clar…”

Matty pulls your head into his lap.

You can tell it’s bad, you can see the queasy look on his face. You clench your fist- the one you can feel, at least- to keep from screaming, heels digging into the dirt. You’re still trying to get away. But you can’t. You can’t get away from this all consuming pain.

“It’s okay,” Danny whispers, suddenly appearing next to you. He voice shakes, he doesn’t know, he can’t tell you anything reassuring.

“Can you go find someone, Danny? One of the Apollo kids, anyone?”

He ignores Carrie, starring at you for a second longer.

“Y/N,” he mumbles, his voice quiet, finally able to act like the young boy he is.

“You can go,” you breathe, somehow finding the strength to make him believe you’re okay. “Go help me, okay?”

His little footsteps disappear into the woods faster than you’ve ever heard him run, even when they have his favorite brownies for dessert.

You let out a sob.

“D-did he cut it off?” you moan. “It feels like he cut it off, please tell me he didn’t… he didn’t cut my arm off…”

“Oh, fuck, no,” Carrie breathes, pressing down agains the wound to try and stop the blood from gushing out- but it doesn’t really help. It’s just too much. “I mean, it’s deep and it’s nasty, but you’ve still got an arm, don’t worry.”

She laughs, awkwardly, nervously. You can feel even more of your arm drifting away, blood pouring out onto the ground.

“Hey, hey, no,” Matty mutters, lightly hitting your face.

“Wha-”

“Can’t fall asleep, Y/N,” Carrie says, nervously. “Sit up against Matty, come on, huh?” you lean against Matty, head clearing now that there’s fresh air in your system.

Your eyes focus on Clarisse.

Except she’s not anywhere near you, she’s 10 feet away, punching Nicky so hard you’re surprised he’s still standing.

Carrie cringes. “Okay, maybe don’t look at that.”

But you’re sort of entranced by her. She’s not outwardly angry, her face reveals nothing- just a mask of hard, unrelenting focus. It should scare you, how much concentration she puts into her deadly punches, blood flying with each hit she lands. Her knuckles are red, his face is a mess, but it’s exhilarating to know she would do this for you.

A sickening crack rents the air. “My fucking nose, fuck, fuck, screw you, you fucking bitch! Fuck-”

The smallest smile creeps it way onto her face. She wipes her mouth, leaving blood on her lips- but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“I can keep going!” she shouts back, grabbing his shirt. “You wanna do that shit? I’m only getting started. I’m gonna throw you around, then I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

“Wait! Wait, okay, wait, shit,” he breathes, holding his hands up in surrender. Blood pours from his nose, down to her hand bunched in his shirt. He’s taller than her, yet he’s surrendering.

“You’re pathetic,” she hisses, pushing him back. He hits the ground with a groan, trying to grab for a rock, a sword, anything to defend himself against Clarisse and her fury.

Clarisse loves capture the flag.

One of the reasons why she does is because she gets to let out all her anger. She looks at you, but not in your eyes- she looks at the wound on your arm. You can see the red pouring out of the corner of your eye- but you choose to ignore it, instead focusing on the way the fire inside of her gets relit at the sight of your blood. She has plenty reason to be angry now.

She grabs her spear, sauntering over to him, laughing at the way he can’t even try to get up.

“So fuckin’ stupid,” she smiles, tilting her head. Then the tip of her spear is pointing right at his neck, she’s standing over him the way he did to you. “How’s it feel?” she smiles.

He coughs, hissing in pain.

“I’m scared, Clarisse, okay? You got your fucking revenge, but it wasn’t me.”

She laughs, loud and boisterous. “I just saw you cut her, dumbass. I really should kill you, just as a favor to the world.”

“Paid me,” he coughs. “Drachmas, in exchange for hurting your girlfriend-”

She presses the blade against his throat, he yells out.

“Who?”

He stays silent.

“Who?!” she yells, kicking his stomach.

“Nelson!” he screams. “Nelson! Nelson paid me, please, Clarisse-”

She moves the blade away, and he hisses- she probably just barely drew blood.

“I’m not done yet,” she whispers, deadly promise dripping from her words. She turns around, fades out of focus for a second, and then she’s right next to you.

Her hands are cupping your face, she looks sick, seeing you like this up close- but all she does is kiss your forehead. Like you, she doesn’t want to look at your flesh and blood.

“I’m here, I’m here, oh, fuck. Gods, what the fuck,” she mumbles, looking very pointedly away from the wound, finally seeing how bad it is up close.

“Clarisse.”

“I know,” she whispers, smoothing your hair back. “I know, baby, I know, but it’s gonna be okay.”

Danny runs into the clearing, shouting “just over here” while healers follow him, immediately groaning at the smell of blood, the sight of it.

Clarisse switches places with Matty, holding you against her, kissing your head again and again, muttering about how brave you are.

You almost laugh at the odd looks the Apollo kids give her, unused to seeing the big bad Clarisse so soft. But they just don’t know her like you do. She doesn’t love them like she loves you.

One of them starts to clean the blood, and your eyes drift shut as the other starts to mend your skin back together.

—-

You wake up with familiar curly hair in your face.

You spit it out, groaning, mouth feeling fuzzy, everything feelings fuzzy.

“Clarisse?” you mumble, eyes not even open, but you wake up with that hair in your mouth everyday, and you’ve memorized the weight of her arm around your waist.

She sits up immediately, jumping out of bed, standing up and fixing her messy hair like someone’s gonna be there.

“Um, hello? I was speaking, crazy girl.”

“Oh, thank Gods,” she mumbles, blowing hair out of her face and sitting back down. “Thought we got caught.”

You look at her, then your surroundings-

“Oh, holy shit,” she says, staring at you like a deer in headlights. “Wait, you’re awake. You’re awake!”

She throws her arms around you, burying her face into your neck, reverberating with the sound of your laughter.

“You make it sound like I’ve been in a coma for 10 years.” Your heart drops. “Have I… been asleep for a while?”

“Um,” she says, softly, biting her lip as she extricated herself from your neck. “Capture the flag was yesterday, so… no.”

“So you’re just being dramatic?”

“Possibly,” she smiles. “It’s not my fault you’ve taken over my entire brain.” She shows her bruised knuckles, split open, already starting to scab. “I said not to fix ‘em up. They don’t hurt that bad, and they look fucking cool.”

You grab her hands, relieved it’s only been a day, kissing the rough scabs. She blushes, although she tries her best not to, breathing in deeply.

“How are you feeling, baby?”

You look towards your totally healed arm, finally realizing that you know have full control of your hands, unlike yesterday. It’s wrapped in a bandage for precautions, but it feels totally healed.

“All good,” you smile.

“You gotta take it real easy for the next week or so, yeah?” she fusses, brushing hair behind your ear. “So you call me, or one of my siblings, anyone to help you with anything. No lifting heavy stuff, don’t do anything too fast- you might tear the healing.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll carry me around like a princess?” you giggle, laying back, inviting her into your arms. She gets back under the covers, head against your chest so she can hear your heartbeat.

“That’s not a bad idea, actually. Practical. Very safe.”

You hit her shoulder. “I’m joking.”

“Eh, I’ll change your mind.”

You smile, running your hands through her hair, enjoying the early mornings with her warmth against you, soft sunlight peeking through windows.

She sits up after a moment, laying her head back on the pillow, arm back around your waist. She just sits there for a moment, you can feel her admiring you. Clarisse doesn’t look at you. She traces your face with her eyes, imagining it was her hands, her lips, she admires you like she sees a reverence in your eyes that has nothing to do with your godly parent.

“Can you promise me something?” she asks, whispering softly, even though you’re the only two people around.

“What?” you say, staring at the ceiling, feeling like you might fall back asleep.

“Don’t get hurt. Like, ever again, please.”

You smile. “Okay, baby,” you mumble.

“I’m serious,” she smiles, nudging your cheek with her nose. “I… I was really scared. And I don’t like to feel that way, especially when it comes to you. I was angry, too. I was so fuckin’ angry I’m surprised I didn’t kill him. You can’t get hurt like that, not again, you just gotta let me protect you. Or else I might actually kill someone, Y/N.”

“I know,” you mumble. “I watched you.”

“Did I scare you?” she asks, voice soft. There’s no hint of your loving, smiley Clarisse in this bed right now. She’s worried, as if she could ever scare you.

“No,” you say, honestly. “It’s sweet how far you’re willing to go for me.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “You better like it. Do you know what I got for that? Eight months no dessert. Five months cleaning the fuckin’ stables.”

You barely hide your laugh. “Oh, my Gods, are you serious?”

“Yes,” she grumbles. “But, I’ve decided it’s fine. You’re my loving girlfriend, right? You can sit there all pretty so I have something to look at when I’m cleaning. And you’ll share your dessert with me, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, turning your head. “I will.”

“I really love you. My perfect pretty princess,” she jokes, smiling lopsidedly, and you return it. “You’ll let me protect you, and maybe I can get some decent sleep at night, huh?”

When she presses her hand to your face and her lips to yours, you think nothing could possible ruin this moment. It’s just you and her, and everything that’s beautiful.

“You always protect me, Clar,” you smile.

She smiles, lips grazing yours. This is your Clarisse. The one who smiles just for you, who puts her rough hand softly against your face. This is your Clarisse, the one who would do anything for you, the one who wants to carry you around, the one who wants to protect you and hold you and never let anyone fuck with her baby.

The door slams open, someone is laughing boisterously, another person is groaning in pain, and a familiar voice is shouting your names.

“Clarisse! Y/N! Clarisse, Clarisse! Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Danny shouts, dragging out the last syllable of your name. He jumps onto the bed by your feet, even when Clarisse frowns, looking at you like a puppy dog who’s just brought a dead bird to your doorstep.

And as you look at the scene behind you, Nelson being laid on another bed, Carrie being helped into the corner- laughing hysterically, knuckles split open.

Nelson’s face is practically unrecognizable.

You suppose Danny really did bring something unsavory like a dead bird, dropping it right at your feet.

“So, we all woke up right?”

Your eyes whip to Danny, shocked as he know launches into a story about Carrie waking up to Nelson saying he hadn’t been called to the Big House yet, maybe he would get away from it- but swiftly received punishment in the form of Carrie’s fists. With Clarisse in your bed, no one had the guts to stop them, and they fought for what must have been 10 minutes- Nelson very obviously losing.

“And, now we’re here,” Danny sighs, breathing out after his long and embellished rant. “But you’re awake, Y/N!”

He looks at your skeptically- specifically, at your arm.

“Can I hug you?”

“Oh,” you smile, your heart twisting with such a fondness for this wonderful little kid. “Of course you can, Danny,” you smile, opening your arms wide.

“Yes, just be careful,” Clarisse cautions, her arm around your waist. “Watch the arm, huh?”

“He’s just a baby, Clarisse,” you mumble, breath messing his hair.

“He’s 11.”

“Baby,” you reinforce, squeezing him tighter.

“Y/N… you’re crushing me,” he groans.

“Oops,” you say, letting him go. “You’re just too cute,” you coo.

Clarisse scoffs from next to you. You smile, kissing her cheek. “You’re beautiful. Scary, dangerous. Not cute, though.”

She hums. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Carrie walks over, sporting her split knuckles, also opting to let them heal naturally like Clarisse. She shows them off with a wide smile, even as Nelson screams in the background when they reset his nose.

Matty rubs his temples.

You smile, looking around at your very dysfunctional, very awkward, but loving family-adjacent.

“Hey, did we end up winning the game?” you ask.

Clarisse snorts. “Oh, nah. Without us, they were lost. Who cares, though?”

“Yeah, I liked beating Nelson up much more than I would have liked winning,” Carrie smiles.

“Next time,” Danny starts, “Can I lead again?”

Clarisse squints at him. “…Maybe.”

You wink at him, nodding subtly.

“Okay!” he smiles.

Clarisse kisses your forehead.

“I love you, pretty baby,” she mumbles.

You smile. “I love you too, scary baby.”

—-

clarisse when she sees y/n get hurt: oh so the only natural response to to THROW A FUCKING SPEAR AT SOMEONE

appreciation for the fact she threw it from like really far away and just tore through his armor likkkkeeee

nelson and nicky sitting in the infirmary together hugging each other terrified clarisse and carrie are going to come back for more

nicky does not sleep at night anymore SHE SAID SHE WASNT DONE

—-

shout out to my baby danny he carried this fic fr

shoutout to y/n for getting WRECKED so we could have this beautiful moment w clarisse

shoutout to matty for being his beautiful self

shoutout to carrie for being her violent self

and finally shoutout to clarisse for being overprotective and insane

—-

clarisse after she actually convinced y/n to let her carry her around everywhere: 🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗

bitch is so happy…

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

[bulbabutt]

okay. lets bite the bullet and talk about 2012. lets talk about child abuse, familial abuse, generational abuse, toxic family units, whatever you wanna call it. lets talk about it and whether it exists in this show. i actually encourage you to read this no matter what your take is, just to hear it out. let me be FUCKING clear: i love this show, but i get scared to talk about it seriously. everyone on every side is defensive all the time but i love every turtles show to no end.

this post is going to go over so well and not controversially at all.

precursor: every splinter is some level of shitty dad. he always has been. the fucking bare bones of the character is that he raised his children to kill the man who killed his own father. thats inherently fucked up. every splinter has some level of fucked up about him. maybe hes inattentive, or neglectful, or strict, or secretive, maybe hes just not very good at dealing with his kids. splinter is supposed to be far from perfect. thats what makes him splinter. maybe he grows over the course of a series, maybe he doesnt. maybe hes supposed to be shitty his whole life, maybe hes not. thats just splinter. each is adapted differently depending on the story being told.

and 2012 has a very interesting tone to its story.

lets start at the beginning, back in japan. this is season 3, was this story what they intended when they started writing the show back in season 1? probably not, theres probably things they would have written differently had they known this was where splinter's story started. thats kind of the way tv works, you add the details later. but for our sake of analyzing the character of splinter as a whole, it seems best to start here as if its all intentional.

hamato yoshi is a member of the hamato clan. theyre a very traditional old ninja clan in the modern world, they have old feuds and theyre trying to keep their culture alive. they're literally the last of a clan of ninjas like this, having (supposedly) defeated the foot clan (their generational enemies) back when yoshi was a baby. hes set out to lead next, and its very important to him. and yet hes married to a woman who works in the city, a modern woman who doesnt live the life he does. she even moved to be with him. i feel the need to compare this to how men in the real world who want traditional wives never go for women who are willing to be their housewives, always try to break down the independent ones. splinter seems unconcerned with how his wife wants to live. with how she wants their daughter to be raised.

im not necessarily saying this is how this comes off in the show, but i find it interesting to think about. this is absolutely the most rounded version of tang shen as a character (thus far) it stops her being just a name on a page "hamato yoshi's love and the object of his enemies affections who died" and turns her into a woman who has a stake in the story. gives her more agency.

its very interesting that this show implies an actual relationship between tang shen and oroku saki, albeit a one-sided one that didnt work out, but they do seem to have parted on equal ground. the pair of them discuss yoshi's inattentive duties as a husband and father, that he's too obsessed with the tradition and lineage of his clan. honestly, if this woman just took her baby and left no one would blame her! he has his priorities set, and it leaves no room for her and their newborn baby. if she ran away with saki at this point, the story would make just as much sense.

but then disaster strikes, saki learns the truth about his family, that he was actually a child of the foot clan (honestly i wish we saw this play out instead of jumping ahead in the story but thats not what this post is about) and he kills he and yoshi's father. revenge for him having killed his. cycles of abuse and revenge that never end. the pair of them were raised in this society that values lineage like this, that would kill for it. its no wonder they both grew up this way.

anyway, tang shen is killed by a blow meant for yoshi, and saki takes their child and raises her. based on splinter's lack of desire to be a father so far in the story, its honestly not one you can blame him for. its fucked up, but it makes sense. saki does to miwa exactly what his father did to him. cycles of abuse and revenge.

yoshi loses everything, and moves to america. he's turned into splinter the mutant rat, and gains four turtle sons.

so as established, he's not exactly grown up with a stable family life. he obviously, while human, wasnt acting as a stable father for the child he intended to have. so how good is he at this?

ive talked before about how the 2003 show treats the turtles as kind of one whole unit. they don't have individual relationship arcs, they dont have overarching storylines where they grow apart or closer, they're always in each other's corner.

2012 makes this more dynamic. here we see that 15 years seeing no one but each other, growing under this splinter has come with its own quirks. these brothers dont understand each other that well. they get jealous of each others treatment, some are left out, some are misunderstood. raph resents leo, none of them appreciate what donnie does, mikey bothers everyone else for attention, etc. it creates a really good starting place for this show.

(the issue i have with this show is more that they never really open or close any of these beats, at least not in ways that last. but boy does it make for some good dramatic scenes)

we see over the course of this first season that splinter treats his children just as he was, as little ninjas more so than sons. he raises them to follow his traditions, the ones tang shen never cared for. but this is all he knows how to be! you cant really blame him.

most people bring up mikey as the quintessential example when they talk about this, i dont want to do that cuz i know you've all heard it. while i think his father does disrespect him and i think it is paid forward and his brothers do too, i'd rather talk about raph for a change.

in one episode, raph loses his temper. to teach him a lesson, splinter makes his brothers pelt him in training while insulting him any way they can, and tells him to just... not lose his temper. this is a terrible lesson in general. instead of trying to coax out why he might be angry, it just plays up that if he loses his temper bad things happen.

splinter in this episode basically encourages bullying. this comes up a lot when it comes to raph. to compare, in 2003 when raph loses his temper, hes told to blow off steam which he does. his brothers don't blame him for having emotional outbursts, they know thats just how he is so they know how he needs to cope with it. he's given the physical space to let it out.

im not saying this show needs to be like that show, im just saying thats a version of this story where the outcome is better for raph as a whole. since this outcome is not as good for him emotionally, you can tell why he's still got these emotional issues. splinter never helps him more than that. thats more why this raph differs from that one, if that makes sense. one has his family in his corner more than the other.

speaking of. raph has a pet turtle. this turtle is the only one he can talk to about how he feels. why might that be? it's the only thing hes kind and gentle to, and he refuses to let his brothers make him feel weak for being kind to it. where did he learn to be ashamed of being kind and gentle? thats a learned behaviour. in a house full of other men... yeah, that would happen. but whos values start that?

when this turtle gets some mutagen spilled on it, it tries to get revenge on his family. there is such a resentment going on here, its extremely juicy. the show chalks this up to "post mutation insanity", but its just as easy to think that everything raph has experienced has made him seem angry and resentful and perhaps scared to his pet, and that former pet wants raph to himself so they can be free. the frustrated venting of a child complaining about how no one understands him in such a big way turns slash into a vengeful monster, cuz thats all he's ever heard. it makes sense, he went from a little turtle to a fully cognizant adult aged being in an instant. emotionally no one would handle that well, and definitely not someone whos only ever heard the worst about people.

he comes around later. notably by being on his own, away from the hamatos.

again, im not saying the show is writing this intentionally, but i think tonally its in the zone where you could see this analysis as being canon. that these little pieces of narrative fit the worldview of a toxic family unit that isnt dealing with its problems in a healthy way.

there's other small aspects. leo slaps mikey early on, having seen it on his favourite show be used as a way of getting someone to calm down. mikey questions this behaviour, leo seems to feel bad about it when questioned. if we know that that behaviour was bad, what other things might he emulate in a similar way?

there's things like donnie's predatory behaviour towards april. in a world where all they ever knew was splinter's stories of the outside world (and perhaps television from decades earlier), hearing splinter's story of his love for tang shen, his rivalry with his own brother over her, you could actually see why he would behave the way he does, why he claims her the way he does. not as an excuse, but as a reason he learned the behaviour. and there's multiple opportunities for his father to tell him off. he never does. why would he? he knows no better.

this splinter, unlike every other, is not old or disabled. he doesnt require a cane (at the start, but also was never a good cane) and its interesting that despite being like... a 40 year old man in the peak of his life he does not accompany his sons on missions. he sits around doing nothing and disproves of his sons heroic actions. april literally calls him out for this at one point. the show is actually telling us some of this man's behaviour is wrong.

one of the more upsetting things that happens in this household is a lot of physical hitting. "theyre training" you might say. understandable. but when you see a lot of hitting come from the father in this show, played for a laugh, when you see splinter play the "drunk master" bit it makes you think. is that okay? isnt that a bit much?

the end of the muckman episode is a freeze frame of splinter (after having knocked out all of his sons to punish them for leaving while grounded) turning his anger on april and her running away. idk thats just not funny to me. this is a bit of the dating of the show, 2012 was a time where character's in shows were meaner, less affectionate, more bullying in nature. that was the sense of humour at the time. that isnt me making a judgment, it's just kind of the era. a pre steven universe world, if that makes sense. so many of the jokes that end in a hit aren't funny in 2024. especially not when they come from a parent.

when this splinter speaks about his kids to their brothers he often ends up insulting them. "you should be like mikey, he never overthinks because he doesn't think", this would be a big reason the boys speak about each other the way they do to their faces. puts forward a bit more of that bullying thing i mentioned earlier. if their own father talks about them like this, of course their brothers do too. so of course they join in and give payback.

again. splinter wasnt raised in a normal family. he was raised in a ninja commune with a bunch of murderers. he wasn't great with his wife and baby daughter. its not surprising that he's bad at this.

so, ive just said a bunch of things about what's wrong with this household as a whole. i think ive explained why the family unit behaves the way it does: generational teachings of feuds and traditional values. i dont think this makes the show bad! i, in fact, wish there was more of it. i think theres so much low hanging fruit that the show kind of wants to play with, but cant fully bring itself to.

specific example: during the space arc on a planet thats driving all the characters emotions against each other we get this amazing scene where raph screams at leo for being splinter's favourite. leo responds by hugging him. its really well done!

however its never brought up again, never actually getting into the nitty gritty of why raph feels like that is exactly what i think makes this show resonate with so many people

its dark! it pulls at your heart strings! it makes people feel seen! we go in mikey's head at one point and see such splintered (lol) personalities in his head. he has a huge anger problem (much like raph) in there. he retreats into imagination land when stressed. the show kind of toys with "these kids are fucked up!" but never lets those character moments go anywhere. i love how fucked up this family is. its so complex, it feels real. at least real to me. i wish it went that little step further and let the characters talk about these things a little more.

maybe you have a different experience, and thats fine! but i wouldnt brush off people like me who look at 2012 and say "these dynamics make me uncomfortable". to excuse it by saying "my family is like that and we're fine" sometimes i just wanna say... <:/ are you? have you talked about that? and if that's your read on it is that its fine, thats great. but some people notice patterns and those patterns can make them uncomfortable. i hope ive explained the patterns here.

i think thats why the fandom is as big as it is. this show would lead to the most amazing deep introspective fan-works youve ever seen, it lays the pieces out so perfectly for you to draw your own conclusions about why they are this way. you cant really blame people for talking about it as if its got a way higher rating than it does. it feels like it does.

i should say, i dont even know if i blame the show on its own for leaving those pieces laying there, it was on nickelodeon. i sense studio meddling in the tone. i mean, given that the show wanted to end with the big mutant apocalypse storyline, and yet the network wanted to end it with the big 87 crossover..... yeah i think its safe to say nick would rather they keep it light.

which is funny, because i think the most controversial thing i can say is i personally love the finale arc as the mutant apocalypse. it so encapsulates my favorite part of this show. to end this show in the darkest timeline and say "even though these characters are so far removed from who they used to be and even though the entire world is over they still have each other in the end" and i find that so perfect.

so. i understand that this is always a touchy topic. i know people want to brush it off as "people say the 12 brothers are abusive to mikey but mikey is fine", and i think thats a really skewed version of it from both sides. first of all. mikey is not fine, look in that boys head. look how he copes. he's not. but also, mikey is not the only victim. they all are. these turtles are victims of their upbringing, victims of generational war. of men who didnt know how to be good fathers in the first place. and thats good writing! it feels deep! it connects!

for more context: any fucked up way you can think of karai being raised by shredder? its probably the same way here. splinter and shredder were raised the same way.

i guess i think about this a lot, cuz i always see things like "oh, rise fans write crossovers where the rise boys love each other and have to teach the 12 boys how to be nice cuz they dont like 2012!" and i just think to myself:

guys. do you understand why a person might do that? why would someone (likely a teenager) want 2012 mikey to be treated nicely by a kinder more openly affectionate version of his own family? do i need to spell that out for you? why do we connect with media at all, why do we write our own stories about it?

if you genuinely dont. i mean, im glad for you. but sometimes you wanna imagine a world in which your own family is more openly affectionate with you. where they hug and tell you theyre proud and love you and you never have to question it, never have to look elsewhere for that kind of approval. its less that they're idolizing rise, and more that they're looking at the two families and saying "this one is emotionally mature and in touch with their feelings more than that one. how would that play out?"

doctor feelings ass response.

look, im not saying everyone understands 2012, that everyone likes or needs to like it. im just trying to say that i think these fucked up parts of 2012 are all around my favourite parts of the show. its an inspiring story about this fucked up little family that has no one but each other, and they're not great about it. they try, but they don't always get it right. i just wish the show would have talked about that part more. but i think that since it doesnt people get to fill in those blanks themselves, and they do it so beautifully. and i really wish people on the internet would be more kind to one another when they wanted to discuss these darker themes they find in it.

these are the reasons i love this show. i think its so very interesting that splinter dies this fucked up father figure who never really apologized for his behaviour. i like that raph needs to be held to stop punching his brothers. that leo doesnt have a good grip on what it is to be a leader, that he tries bad ways of doing it. i like that no one copes well! i like that their relationships are so complex! this show is messy! its good! i wish it was more messy!

and id love if we could be more honest about these things and how they make us feel instead of just brushing each other off as "likes the show" or "doesnt like the show". the things that make me uncomfortable are why i love this show and i'm pretty sure i'm not alone there.

[oatlystrawberryicecream]

the way that some people talk about jason and batman and the joker is so jarring to me because it relies on some unspoken assumptions that i will never buy into

1. the assumption that taking a life inevitably always makes the person who did it worse. killing someone isn’t always this earth shattering thing that harms the person who does it and fundamentally changes their outlook on things. i guess if you have never met a veteran or someone who survived an armed robbery or any number of other things you might make that mistake, but like some of the people who fought in wwii came home and were normal members of the community and the times that their bullets hit the mark were not necessarily the parts of the war that kept them up at night. these assumptions that once you kill you are wicked and have to feel bad and do this whole show of repentance are insidious. if you are gonna look at all this through the lens of christian morality you should at least be aware that that is what you are doing but you cant have just one character be wicked and unclean because of his actions when the bible says that everyone is wicked and unclean by our nature and all sins are equal. a lot of people object to that view but if thats how you see it batman and jason and the joker are all sinners and are all as bad as each other so at least be consistant about how you apply that moral framework.

2. the assumption that being robin or being taken in and trained by bruce means full agreement with and acceptance of every part of bruce’s personal philosophy on justice and morality. jason was a homeless child and even if all this was explicitly laid out for him he could not have agreed since he needed bruce as a matter of survival. bruce’s ideology is extremely important to him and he can teach it to his children all he wants but they are not beholden to it above all else the way he thinks they should be. jason has to live according to his own beliefs regardless of how unacceptable bruce finds it and it is unfair and hypocritical of bruce to get bent out of shape about it.

3. the assumption that killing is always bad. maybe i have listened to too many episodes of behind the bastards but some people will do significant and appalling damage to others no matter what unless they are dead. those people can’t be allowed to keep causing harm. it isn’t glorious and there is no honor about it but it is right and just that they be stopped. there is no reason to strive for purity or ideological high ground when you can provide a measure of safety and justice to victims and prevent future harm instead.

4. the assumption that bruce didn’t have to answer to jason. parents have a duty to their children and it is my opinion that that duty does not end when the child dies. bruce adopted jason and made himself responsible and accountable for everything that happened to jason under his care. that responsibility was ignored over many instances. i am not going to detail the things that led to jason’s death here but it was not good or effective parenting. after jason’s death the disrespect starts pretty immediately with bruce compromising evidence of his murder in order to preserve his ability to continue as batman and continues with bruce getting rid of pretty much all traces of jason’s presence in his life. he is only spoken of as a mistake, a lost cause, or a cautionary tale and is assigned blame for his own death, a death that batman never bothered to fully investigate since he was buried next to the woman who led him into the trap. a new kid is endangered and the joker and batman both continue doing whatever they want as if jason’s life only matters for the way it affects them. bruce needs to answer for all of this, as his son jason has a right to expect more from his father. now the extent to which that extends can be debated but it is clear to me that jason deserved better from bruce.

conclusion: killing is accepted in society in certain circumstances, you may or may not agree with this but self defense laws and even things like jury nullification exist because people knew there should be some wiggle room since no one could have the full context of every situation that would ever arise. ending a life is not normal or ideal but it is not an unfathomably rare experience and it does not always weigh on the person who does it. bruce has never to my knowledge killed someone so he has no idea how he would actually respond but that still isn’t even what jason was asking him to do. all he had to do was be present and not move and he would have been the only parental figure who didn’t let jason down.

[e-nonsense]

hii girly! can i ask for roses in burlap and lace? It can be as something as simple as headcanons or a fic if you desire, whatever you're comfortable with! It's about how he's receives kisses, from surprises kisses, sweet ones, freaky ones, soft ones, sad ones --all the kisses really

hes literally so gorgeous and how could you literally not want to kiss him every single second of the day fr fr anyways thats all, congratulations on 2k and I hope you have a wonderful day ahead of you! <3

DIFFERENT KISSES WITH CHARLES XAVIER

first class!charles xavier who would be greedy with kisses, littering them all over you and you’d return he favour, kissing down his jaw, his nose. he’s laugh, short little giggles that’d urge you to continue until he was laughing, cheeks red.

dotpf!charles xavier would avoid your kisses. believing himself not worthy of your affections, but you’d catch him either way, litter his face with kisses to show him no matter what you love him.

apocalypse!charles xavier who’s learning himself again. letting himself be loved and cared for by you once more. he linger in some moments when the two of you were alone, waiting for a kiss like a puppy. it was cute, the way he’d hold his arms open for you like a child wanting something. he’d kiss you all over to make up for the days he’d rejected your kisses.

dark phoenix!charles xavier who’s once again complicated. split between thinking he’s right and hating himself. everyone blames him, you kisses are relief, an escape. he’d lean into every opportunity to be loved by you.

father figure!charles xavier he’s like a father to you, you’d hug him like a child would hug their father. he’d cry about it later, how much you adored him. a fatherly kiss placed on top of your head before he messed up your hair, and telling you to “shoo”.

platonic!charles xavier a brotherly figure. you tease and annoy each other, a kiss on your temple for comfort here and then. not often, neither of you like opening up.

charles xavier who you help bathe. you’d kiss along his shoulders and he’d shiver, your lips warm against the cooling water on his skin. you help scrub his back and he’ll place a gentle kiss to your lips as a “thank you”.

charles xavier who thinks you hung the stars. he’d worship the ground you walk on, you love him more? impossible.

charles xavier who knows he doesn’t deserve you in any scenario. a person so forgiving and caring, caring about him. something he thought he’d lost the rights to a long time ago.

surprise kisses would fluster him. he’d be so caught off guard focused in his own little world, he’d stutter over his words unable to meet your eyes.

sweet kisses would make him smile like a dork. he’d grin like a kid on christmas, pinching your cheeks playfully before he pressed a few more equally sweet kisses to your lips.

freaky kisses, his groan vibrates against you, his hand clasping around your throat to bring you closer, a breathy moan leaving his lips, biting your bottom lip before you pull away.

sad kisses made for comforting. a gentle one against each others temple as you rest your foreheads against the others.

playful kisses that make you both laugh. kisses in ticklish spots as you lay in each others arms, you’d fight each other with these ones, he’d kiss you, you’d kiss him back, a never ending cycle.

goodbye kisses you’re leaving to go somewhere for the day. he’ll pout like a child, grumble, melt when you’d kiss him goodbye, trying to keep you for longer.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[targaryenluvs]

Hi, how are you? Could you make a request for Anthony Bridgerton 🙈 please.

I was thinking something along the lines of Penelope and Colin. When Colin says he would never court Penelope. But in this case Anthony tells Benedict that he would never court reader. And Benedict tells him that he will be the one to woo her. Sad ending or happy ending. I leave it in your hands 🤗✨.

Have a good week ✨ thank you.

i love this, and benedict bridgerton <3

nothing better

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader, anthony bridgerton x fem!reader (platonic)

summary: benedict has loved you for so long, but he always assumed you’d want anthony and he wanted you. but when the opportunity presents itself to be with you he dives headfirst.

warnings: swearing, kisses??

a/n: hope you like itttt, it might be a little short but quality over quantity???: i love benedict ugh can’t wait for his season

the party was insufferable.

benedict wanted nothing more than to be at home, drawing, you specifically.

the day you learned of his talent you’d praised him every day for it. and you’d been pestering him for oh so long to draw your portrait but he always politely declined. believing a professional to be more accurate than himself but he honestly believed that he, nor any other, could incorporate all of your beauty in one sketch.

and he was scared of messing it up, and he also wondered what his brother would think.

anthony. smart, handsome, eligible, viscount anthony bridgerton.

the one you’d marry.

or so it seemed to everyone as the two of you danced hand in hand. everyone’s eyes were on the two of you as you practically glided across the floor. as the music slowed and the couples dispersed he found himself holding his breath as you came towards him.

“anthony is terrible to dance with, he keeps blaming me for stepping on his feet but he moves so slow at times, he’s always looking off into the distance.” you laughed as benedict smiled, “i promise you y/n, a dance with me will leave you more than well satisfied.” benedict teased as you gasped, “benedict bridgerton! the scandalous man you are.” as you laughed he couldn’t help but admire you. your hair was up with only two strands in the front, curled. a sweet tiara in the middle of your head, a gorgeous baby pink dress and and equally gorgeous owner.

“you look-”

“like a cake? a biscuit? a rose perhaps?” you joked.

“i was going to say breathtaking. you look, breathtaking, y/n. no one else here can compare.” he spoke in awe.

your eyes flickered to his, god he looked amazing. but he was probably only saying this to be nice right? his sisters friend, daphnes other half. nothing more, he grew up with you, saw you as a sister.

he wondered if you’d return the compliment, or thank him, or just smile and nod. god he said wanted more than a nod. you looked untouchable. and the way you looked at him, benedict was lost. not only in your eyes but in his head and heart. he sees you dance and talk to numerous respectable men every day. you smile and laugh, completely polite. but then you look at him, with those beautiful brown eyes and he looses all trains of thought. and as respectful as those other men are, he could never put himself in the same category as them.

because the thoughts that he didn’t loose, were truly inappropriate.

the heavy footsteps from behind you snapped the two of you out of the trance as anthony approached. “brother, lady y/n.” he smiled as you smiled back. “i’ll leave you two be.”

“are you alright brother?”

he didn’t mean to snap. the words just spilled out.

“are you going to court her or not?”

anthony’s brows furrowed as he was taken aback by his brothers direct manner, all sense of the usual playfulness was lost. “who? y/n? no of course not. i would never dream of courting y/n l/n. she’s like a sister to me.”

“then why do you dance with her so? take her out so often, promenade with her? for what? my god everyone thinks the two you are courting.” anthony released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

he’d only been having fun with a friend. it was so refreshing to be able to talk to someone who didn’t wonder what the viscount was up to, who he was with, when he was going to marry. y/n eased his tensions and she the best friend he’d never had, she made him feel like a young boy again, which anthony had all but forgotten the feeling of.

“benedict, it was not my intention this i promise you brother. i know how much you love and if i led you or anyone else to believe our relationship was anything besides familial love and companionship than i truly apologise. you need to let her know before it’s too late.”

benedict felt his heart lurch at the idea of finally being with you. and with anthony’s blessing and urging him along he was off to find you.

the air was cold, but anything was better than that stuffy ballroom inside. gods you couldn’t wait for the season to be over. it was only your first, same as the diamond of the season, also known as your best friend daphne bridgerton but all the cakes, gossip, drama and fake smiles? you’d had enough to last forever. the only problem with the season being over was that you’d most likely be travelling to your country estate. which meant that you’d be spending time with your extended family rather than the family besides your own that you wanted to be with.

the person you wanted to be with.

“y/n! there you are.” benedict shouted as he bent over, catching his breath. even slightly sweaty and disheveled benedict was a god in your eyes, no one inside could even come close.

“ben, come sit!” you patted the swing next to you as he gladly sat down, the air was a refreshing after the long night he’d had, and your smiling face was enough for his heart to race again.

“y/n, as much as i’d like to sit and swing with you i have to tell you something, it’s urgent.” he spoke softly. the moon was bright, the air cold and benedict had a soft glow of light on his right side. his voice could so easily lull you to sleep out here as it had done so many times before but his eyes were alert, so you smiled again and nodded, “continue.”

“y/n, i’ve known you for so long. and i’ve- i’ve never been able to tell you how i truly feel about you. i always thought anthony had your eye and”

“anthony?!” you screeched as benedict hushed you with a hand over your mouth. “sweetheart you can’t be so loud out here, wouldn’t want someone to come across us now would we?” he joked as his eyes crinkled at the edges, now there’s the benedict you knew. “ben, i’ve never had romantic feelings for anthony, hes always been a brother to me. besides i’ve had my eye on another bridgerton for a long time.”

“oh? and who could that be?” benedict was praying to every god he could conjure in his head. me. me. me. let it be me please.

“you.”

he couldn’t help himself as he kissed you, he’d waited far too long for it.

and it was so worth it.

everything he couldn’t even begin to express with words, he put into the kiss, your first of many. “i love you. i love you y/n l/n and i can only pray you love me a quarter as much. you are everything i’ve ever wanted, and i have you now. you were family before but now? youre officially a bridgerton, we should throw a parade.” benedict laughed as you smacked his arm, “finally! my plan to marry daphne has been thrown into motion!”

“excuse me?” daphne shouted as yourself and benedict leaned into eachother, laughing up a storm.

there was nothing that could compare to the man infront of you.

nothing better.

[astrophileblogs07]

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS PT.20

⚫ Opposite to the stereotype of Leo being a narcissist, its the Aquarians who are more narcissist than ANY other zodiac. Esp its the Dhanishta naks out of the Aqua naks who are so.

⚫ I have seen 3 Aquarian moons (of Dhanishta nak) who had a poverty stricken first half of life (childhood, teenage years) but then they become well off like rlly very well off in their second half (esp after marriage). They marry rich 🤑 too. What i am saying here is the dramatic transformation of their financial life.

⚫ Pisces men are physically abusive. That's it. Esp the March Pisces. They literally are a bully. (Dont be fooled by the beautiful doe eyes lol)

⚫ "WOW What voluminous and luscious hair he's got!" -my ♌ rising and moon mom commenting on a side character with insignificant role in a movie 🤣. I wasn't noticing that at all...but she seemed to be stuck on that feature 😂.

⚫ Martian influence on a chart can actually have a liking to dangerous weapons and ammunitions. (Like idk I weirdly love them 😂😂)

⚫ Females with Ketu ruled naks are the first group of people whom male perceive as "threat". (Second is mars btw). Like if the other person is a typical male (egoistic, chauvinist) they will literally hate you to the core coz they know you equal them in all ways (except you know what LMAO 🤣). So they'll try to pin you down or belittle you etc. (sad, but since I have experienced I wanted it to share w you guys)

⚫ Also I love the way Ketu Nak women get along becoz mostly they have so much in common. And by that I mean how the society (male dom) treats them. I am not saying they're an "outcast" but the reaction they face just coz the male species get intimidated by us which has an cascading effect on our mental peace is beyond tolerance.

⚫Ketu naks are sexyyyyyy 🖤👁️🫦👁️❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

(I always imagine a smokin hot biker girl 👩🏻‍🎤with leather jacket and smoky eyeshadow whenever I hear "Ashwini, Magha and Mula")

⚫ I have seen a Chart which was totally "Mars" chart and I'll tell you, that person has Aries asc, Moon, Mars and (Mercury ig is in Scorpio?idr) along with Scorpio sun. And that person is like personified version of the planet itself. So cunning and so shrewd, potentially be a mastermind. Statergic. Secretive af. (Might be their middle name to exaggerate). Close to their mom. Loves friends (friends over anything). Also they have a "reddish" tint to their skin (no health probs, but yeah that planet does that). Knows how to tackle any embarrassing moment in public and deal with it. (I am jealous of him coz i wanted to be like him in every way 😂)

⚫Lilith and Pluto aspects in natal chart can actually survive 8H synastry. Almost same energy and themes. 💀

⚫Why are Maghas the "scapegoat" of the family? Like they be framed in a situation with which they have no relation with. Its annoying to see. Its like you're locked in your room chilling and as soon as you step out, everyone in the family is blaming you for something or the other. Now you're the "bad guy". (Yo wtf 🤡). Added to the generosity of Leos, people target you often. 😕

⚫Libra men CANNOT stand loneliness and being ostracized at all in any way. I have seen this in every Libra I came across. For eg: if you're the "black sheep" they won't talk to you and will go with what the crowd says. And if people have outcasted them just becoz they're with you/involved with you, they'll drop you like hot potato. People say and stereotype Capricorns for being the one who cares about reputation and all, but her 'Venus-ruled-Saturn-exalted' sister also is same. 💀

(no wonder they're besties lol)

P.S: I read a post here which said "Eye contact with 8H synastry hits different" ( i am not copying, i don't remember the username) and boy is that true 💀💀💀. Like I was -->😯😳🫣. Coz I have experienced that 🤣🤣. It does, than any other eye contact I have seen. Lmao 🤣🤣.{Edit: its @zeldasnotes 🖤���}

Hope you liked it 😁😊. Until next time! 👋🏻

Love you y'all ❤️❤️❤️

[icepip]

something thats been on the brain lately: yuji having a major crush on gojo’s wife. i just know he’s into milfs. gojo shows him pictures of his family on his phone but ‘accidentally’ swipes too far and shows him a nude of his wife and yuji definitely jerks off to it later that night.

omg anon this idea is soooo good and yummy im actually obsessed with it.. tried writing a little something for it!! im not sure how happy i am with it but i hope you enjoy it <3

for context, i was kinda imagining yuji after graduating, still working with gojo as a sorcerer. so they're technically "equals" but yuji still sees gojo as a teacher/authority figure !

tags: 18+/mdni. masturbation. oral (f rec.). ~600 words. not proofread (sorry for the probably mixed up tenses).

“oops, sorry, yuji! just pretend you didn't see that.”

the words play on repeat, circling around in his head as he tries desperately to pay attention to the mission brief. it's nearly impossible to do so, every blink supplying him with the image of you.

yuji always thought you were beautiful, but this was something entirely different. you were heavenly. gorgeous and irresistible as gojo swiped one picture too far, showing his former student photos from his vacation. going from the breathtaking view from the balcony of the house he was staying at, to a picture of you on the bed. thighs spread open and every inch of your skin on display.

it's a sight yuji will never forget. a debauched glimpse of a fantasy of his own.

what he would do to be able to get you underneath him, to have his hands on your curves, to be the one bringing you pleasure. would you be sweet to him like you are now? always so polite and kind when yuji gets the chance to speak to you. you would compliment him when he was still a student, his cheeks beginning to burn when you said he could surpass gojo one day. would you praise him like that again? tell him how good his mouth feels against your tits?

the scraping of chairs against the floor pulls him out of his head, realizing that everyone has been dismissed. he doesn't recall a single thing that was mentioned during the meeting, but he also doesn't care at the moment. the only thing on his mind is you.

yuji finds whatever excuse he can to leave, feigning a sickness to rush to his apartment. he waves off any concern, blaming his sudden fever on his lunch earlier. he doesn't look toward gojo as he exits.

the door closes behind yuji and he leans back against it, his eyes screwing shut as he finally allows himself to imagine.

the warmth of your skin as his lips trail down your body, the soft and pleased sighs you would make, the way your hands would squeeze at his shoulders as he makes his way lower and lower. your voice would be breathy as you beg him not to tease you, his mouth so close to where you need him, but not quite there.

yuji groans your name, his hand over his growing bulge, palming at it. he's already so worked up, though he supposes he's been like this since he saw the picture.

he could see how wet you were, your arousal catching the low light of the room and glistening. you were practically inviting yuji to fall between your plush thighs. he'd spend all day there if you let him — positive that he would never tire of eating you out. how could he, when you look so sweet and appetizing?

he'd pull away eventually, of course. his breathing heavy and mouth and chin covered with your juices, he would stop when you beg him to fuck you, when you whine that you can't take it anymore, that you need him.

yuji would take his time, lining up his cock at your entrance and pushing in slowly, watching your face as it screwed up in pleasure. every inch taking longer than the last until he was finally, finally, buried inside you.

he doesn't even get his dick out of his underwear before he's cumming, spilling inside his pants. but it's still not enough.

the rest of his day is spent imagining you in every way he can imagine, not stopping until he physically can't keep up anymore.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The tax sharks are back and they’re coming for your home

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TODAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

One of my weirder and more rewarding hobbies is collecting definitions of "conservativism," and one of the jewels of that collection comes from Corey Robin's must-read book The Reactionary Mind:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Reactionary_Mind

Robin's definition of conservativism has enormous explanatory power and I'm always finding fresh ways in which it clarifies my understand of events in the world: a conservative is someone who believes that a minority of people were born to rule, and that everyone else was born to follow their rules, and that the world is in harmony when the born rulers are in charge.

This definition unifies the otherwise very odd grab-bag of ideologies that we identify with conservativism: a Christian Dominionist believes in the rule of Christians over others; a "men's rights advocate" thinks men should rule over women; a US imperialist thinks America should rule over the world; a white nationalist thinks white people should rule over racialized people; a libertarian believes in bosses dominating workers and a Hindu nationalist believes in Hindu domination over Muslims.

These people all disagree about who should be in charge, but they all agree that some people are ordained to rule, and that any "artificial" attempt to overturn the "natural" order throws society into chaos. This is the entire basis of the panic over DEI, and the brainless reflex to blame the Francis Scott Key bridge disaster on the possibility that someone had been unjustly promoted to ship's captain due to their membership in a disfavored racial group or gender.

This definition is also useful because it cleanly cleaves progressives from conservatives. If conservatives think there's a natural order in which the few dominate the many, progressivism is a belief in pluralism and inclusion, the idea that disparate perspectives and experiences all have something to contribute to society. Progressives see a world in which only a small number of people rise to public life, rarified professions, and cultural prominence and assume that this is terrible waste of the talents and contributions of people whose accidents of birth keep them from participating in the same way.

This is why progressives are committed to class mobility, broad access to education, and active programs to bring traditionally underrepresented groups into arenas that once excluded them. The "some are born to rule, and most to be ruled over" conservative credo rejects this as not just wrong, but dangerous, the kind of thing that leads to bridges being demolished by cargo ships.

The progressive reforms from the New Deal until the Reagan revolution were a series of efforts to broaden participation in every part of society by successively broader groups of people. A movement that started with inclusive housing and education for white men and votes for white women grew to encompass universal suffrage, racial struggles for equality, workplace protections for a widening group of people, rights for people with disabilities, truth and reconciliation with indigenous people and so on.

The conservative project of the past 40 years has been to reverse this: to return the great majority of us to the status of desperate, forelock-tugging plebs who know our places. Hence the return of child labor, the tradwife movement, and of course the attacks on labor unions and voting rights:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/06/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom/

Arguably the most potent symbol of this struggle is the fight over homes. The New Deal offered (some) working people a twofold path to prosperity: subsidized home-ownership and strong labor protections. This insulated (mostly white) workers from the two most potent threats to working peoples' lives and wellbeing: the cruel boss and the greedy landlord.

But the neoliberal era dispensed with labor rights, leaving the descendants of those lucky workers with just one tool for securing their American dream: home-ownership. As wages stagnated, your home – so essential to your ability to simply live – became your most important asset first, and a home second. So long as property values rose – and property taxes didn't – your home could be the backstop for debt-fueled consumption that filled the gap left by stagnating wages. Liquidating your family home might someday provide for your retirement, your kids' college loans and your emergency medical bills.

For conservatives who want to restore Gilded Age class rule, this was a very canny move. It pitted lucky workers with homes against their unlucky brethren – the more housing supply there was, the less your house was worth. The more protections tenants had, the less your house was worth. The more equitably municipal services (like schools) were distributed, the less your house was worth:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/06/the-rents-too-damned-high/

And now that the long game is over, they're coming for your house. It started with the foreclosure epidemic after the 2008 financial crisis, first under GW Bush, but then in earnest under Obama, who accepted the advice of his Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner, who insisted that homeowners should be liquidated to "foam the runways" for the crashing banks:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/06/personnel-are-policy/#janice-eberly

Then there are scams like "We Buy Ugly Houses," a nationwide mass-fraud outfit that steals houses out from under elderly, vulnerable and desperate people:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/11/ugly-houses-ugly-truth/#homevestor

The more we lose our houses, the more single-family homes Wall Street gets to snap up and convert into slum properties, aslosh with a toxic stew of black mold, junk fees and eviction threats:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

Now there's a new way for finance barons the steal our houses out from under us – or rather, a very old way that had lain dormant since the last time child labor was legal – "tax lien investing."

Across the country, counties and cities have programs that allow investment funds to buy up overdue tax-bills from homeowners in financial hardship. These "investors" are entitled to be paid the missing property taxes, and if the homeowner can't afford to make that payment, the "investor" gets to kick them out of their homes and take possession of them, for a tiny fraction of their value.

As Andrew Kahrl writes for The American Prospect, tax lien investing was common in the 19th century, until the fundamental ugliness of the business made it unattractive even to the robber barons of the day:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-04-26-investing-in-distress-tax-liens/

The "tax sharks" of Chicago and New York were deemed "too merciless" by their peers. One exec who got out of the business compared it to "picking pennies off a dead man’s eyes." The very idea of outsourcing municipal tax collection to merciless debt-hounds fell aroused public ire.

Today – as the conservative project to restore the "natural" order of the ruled and the ruled-over builds momentum – tax lien investing is attracting some of America's most rapacious investors – and they're making a killing. In Chicago, Alden Capital just spent a measly $1.75m to acquire the tax liens on 600 family homes in Cook County. They now get to charge escalating fees and penalties and usurious interest to those unlucky homeowners. Any homeowner that can't pay loses their home.

The first targets for tax-lien investing are the people who were the last people to benefit from the New Deal and its successors: Black and Latino families, elderly and disabled people and others who got the smallest share of America's experiment in shared prosperity are the first to lose the small slice of the American dream that they were grudgingly given.

This is the very definition of "structural racism." Redlining meant that families of color were shut out of the federal loan guarantees that benefited white workers. Rather than building intergenerational wealth, these families were forced to rent (building some other family's intergenerational wealth), and had a harder time saving for downpayments. That meant that they went into homeownership with "nontraditional" or "nonconforming" mortgages with higher interest rates and penalties, which made them more vulnerable to economic volatility, and thus more likely to fall behind on their taxes. Now that they're delinquent on their property taxes, they're in hock to a private equity fund that's charging them even more to live in their family home, and the second they fail to pay, they'll be evicted, rendered homeless and dispossessed of all the equity they built in their (former) home.

It's very on-brand for Alden Capital to be destroying the lives of Chicagoans. Alden is most notorious for buying up and destroying America's most beloved newspapers. It was Alden who bought up the Chicago Tribune, gutted its workforce, sold off its iconic downtown tower, and moved its few remaining reporters to an outer suburban, windowless brick building "the size of a Chipotle":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/16/sociopathic-monsters/#all-the-news-thats-fit-to-print

Before the ghastly hotel baroness Leona Helmsley went to prison for tax evasion, she famously said, "We don't pay taxes; only the little people pay taxes." Helmsley wasn't wrong – she was just a little ahead of schedule. As Propublica's IRS Files taught us, America's 400 richest people pay less tax than you do:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/13/for-the-little-people/#leona-helmsley-2022

When billionaires don't pay their taxes, they get to buy sports franchises. When poor people don't pay their taxes, billionaires get to steal their houses after paying the local government an insultingly small amount of money.

It's all going according to plan. We weren't meant to have houses, or job security, or retirement funds. We weren't meant to go to university, or even high school, and our kids were always supposed to be in harness at a local meat-packer or fast food kitchen, not wasting time with their high school chess club or sports team. They don't need high school: that's for the people who were born to rule. They – we – were meant to be ruled over.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/26/taxes-are-for-the-little-people/#alden-capital

[hannieehaee]

so about the dk thing... hold my beer, luna! I have some things for you:

- him being the biggest advocate for princess treatment™ 24/7, but becoming mean one specific night out of stress (due to work or anything you want), the outcome can be angsty or smutty >> this one can be a little tricky, because I swear I never saw seokmin mad...

- seokmin with an extremely shy s/o who makes him endeared every time, especially if she struggles when asking for any type of ffection

- dk in his mingyu era... also known as the scenario where seokmin gets constantly teased by his s/o about everything he does (which I can see happening, since he's such a sweet soul), but there's a turn 🤨☝️: dk gets his bite back by domming the f out of her 🫶

this is the result of being extremely dk obsessed.

I don't know if any of these were able to spark anything in your pretty brain, but I love anything you write anyway so...

kisses ♡

18+ / mdi

content: mean!seokmin, sub-ish reader, afab reader, smut, established relationship, angst, fluff, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 2813

a/n: thank u for the suggestions anonie i loved them 🫡 i decided to do the first one hehe (mostly bc i live for princess treatment in fics but thats a subject for another day) hope u enjoy, fellow dk obsessed individual <3

masterlist

if there was an award for best boyfriend, seokmin would easily get first place.

he was always known to be the sweetest, most caring boy around. he had even gotten teased in front of millions over the extremely long texts he had a tendency to send to showcase how deeply he cared for the people in his life. seokmin just happened to be an overly affectionate guy, but who could blame him when he had so much love to give?

however, no one had truly scratched the surface of his affections. no one, but you. you bore the brunt of the most passionate and emotional aspects of his love. there was no one in this world seokmin knew how to love better than you. it was almost as if being your boyfriend had been the one task he had been sent to do on this earth. and he did it damn well.

to sum it up, you were his everything. seokmin had always craved romantic love; to have someone who he could give all his affections to without any type of filter or judgement. you happily received his love and gave yours right back, making you one of the most envied couples around due to the love that very clearly radiated out of the two of you.

every single one of your days was met by endless affection from your boyfriend, affections which he adored to give to you. you never had to ask for anything from seokmin. he just always knew the perfect ways in which to take care of you, always insisting on tending to your every need. however, everyone has off days. even seokmin.

the day had started like any other. you'd gone to sleep in each other's arms, waking up equally as tangled up as the previous night. seokmin woke up first, quickly getting ready before kissing you goodbye with the promise of coming back in time to have a dinner with you. the prospect always made him giddy. his whole life he'd always wanted a domestic routine to share with the love of his life day by day and now it was his reality.

like always, he departed home with a smile on his face, knowing he was about to arrive to his dream job that he shared with his best friends only to go back home at the end of the day and fall into your arms all over again. life was good; far too good to seokmin.

it seemed like those were the last few good moments seokmin was meant to have that day, as absolutely everything went wrong after that.

it first began with him embarrassingly tripping on his way out of the car that had driven him to the company, cutting up one of his favorite designer tops (one that had been a limited edition by the way!!). only a few people had seen, so the fall on its own hadnt been too embarrassing. however, as he fell he also happened to drop and smash his phone screen. upon trying to turn his phone back on, he failed, now being stuck with a useless phone for the rest of the day (or even all the way until he had a chance to get it fixed).

the shitty day did not end there. it was just starting.

the next awful predicament occurred just as he walked into the practice room. he hadnt known it until stepping foot inside, but he had just walked into a fight. a few of the members had been fighting about some stupid and unimportant thing, which made at least half of them far too irritable for their own good. on days in which members were irritated at each other, their coordination had a tendency to lack, which only caused more irritation. members snapped at each other throughout the day, making the hours of practice almost unbearable for seokmin. on top of that, he had developed a huge headache just an hour into leaving home. he was also nursing an old ankle injury he had neglected to get treated, which was now acting up due to his fall earlier that day.

his ankle injury led to a few performance team members snapping at him due to his lack in performance. he knew in his heart of hearts that it was just a stressful day for them all (and that his own attitude had been snappy thus far), but he couldnt bring himself to reason this, making him snap right back at his members. even upon going out to eat with his manager he bumped into some rude fans who had been a bit careless with his personal space, except this time he coupdnt react since he knew itd become a scandal.

halfway through his day seokmin realized how rude and unlike himself he had been acting. usually he'd be the mediator in any arguments among members, but today he had even joined in and worsened the situation. he also never really minded if fans were a little overexcited upon meeting him, simply chalking it up to the shock they felt at seeing him. except this time he found himself feeling annoyed? at it. this was very unlike him, but his mood simply continued to worsen throughout the day.

by the time he was heading back home, the final nail was hammered into the coffin. the van that usually drove him back and forth had broken down, causing seokmin, his driver and manager to have to stop on the side of a busy street to check on the issue. seokmin, of course, had to stay inside the van and not make his presence known, knowing he'd easily be recognized in the busy street. this was a fact that irritated him too for some reason.

by the end of it, it had taken over an hour to get the problem fixed, and he had no access to his phone to contact you and let you know that he'd be arriving home way later than usual.

that was the moment in which you entered his mind again. the thought of you instantly made him sigh in relief, knowing that soon enough he'd get to fall asleep in your arms and wake up to a better day.

it was 10:47 when he finally arrived back to your shared home, two hours after the usual time in which he'd reunite with you every day. upon walking in he was met with something he had not wanted to deal with after such an stressful day. you were there to greet him as per usual, but did not seem too happy to see him.

you opened your mouth before he could say anything.

"seokmin, what the hell? i called you twelve times. i even asked the members to call you and no response? what was so important that you ignored me all day?", you seemed very frustrated as you said it, clearly oblivious to the terrible day he'd just had.

"baby– "

"you said you'd be here for dinner by 8! what was so important you couldnt even give me a heads up? we rarely ever get to have dinner together. i spent hours cooking and getting ready and you just ditch me, and for what?", you continued to ramble, giving him no space to answer.

now, any other day seokmin wouldve maybe assumed that your outburst mightve been due to you having a bad day of your own. but today he was just too angry. there was no space in his mind for him to rationalize your lack of sympathy to him in this moment. despite knowing there was no way for you to know that his day had sucked, he also reasoned that you were not even giving him a chance to explain himself. this fact on its own finally did him in. you were going to be unreasonable? fine, then he was going to be mean. all frustrations from the day suddenly came together and manifested into the angry words that were about to leave his mouth.

"and– "

"god, can you please shut up?", he suddenly interrupted you with a tone so icy he even surprised himself, but he kept going regardless, "ive had such a horrible day, i dont appreciate coming home to your nagging. do you even care that maybe i had a reason for being late? i dont have to be here at eight on the dot every single night. nor do i have to keep you updated all day. god, please just leave me alone for today. i cant deal with you on top of everything else."

upon finishing his rambles, seokmin was out of breath. he hadnt said much, but the venom behind his words was enough to render him speechless. the moment the words left his mouth he felt the utmost regret. your face had gone from shocked to dejected to simply sad as he spoke. his went from frustrated to angry to regretful. the two of you stared at each other for a few seconds before seokmin tried to go and rectify himself.

"fuck, baby ... im so sorry, i dont know where that came from. i– i didnt mean any of that. i had a horrible day and– "

"is that it? it seemed like something you'd already thought about", it was now your turn to be angry, it seemed.

"no, baby, i swear! i was just trying to ... trying to be mean. i was trying to hurt your feelings. im so sorry. everything went wrong today and i was just so angry all day. i couldnt even call you because i broke my phone. see!", he pulled his phone out to show you, taking the opportunity to get closer to you, "i know its no justification, but i did not mean a single word i said. i love our nightly routine. i love coming home to you every day more than anything. please dont doubt that. i shouldntve taken out my anger on you. it will never happen again. please, please forgive me?", his endless ramble finally came to an end, puppy eyes staring into yours as he hoped you saw the sincerity in them.

halfway through his speech he had managed to make you give into him and let him hold you as he spoke. this simple act made him glad.

"minnie ... im sorry you had a bad day. but you should never speak to me like that. i love you, but i wont tolerate that. if something bothers you, you have to tell me, not blow up on me like– "

"no! nothing about you ever bothers me! i adore absolutely everything about our relationship and our routine. im so sorry. i shouldve told you when i came home that my day had put me in a mood instead of snapping at you like that."

you chuckled, "i cant really blame you. i threw accusations at you the moment you walked in. im sorry. can we call it even?"

"yes, angel. of course. im sorry i spoiled the dinner. wish i couldve seen how pretty you dressed up for me," he pouted at you.

"it's okay, minnie. there's always tomorrow. are you still feeling angry? did your ramble help you at least?", he winced at the mention of the disrespectful words he had just spoken mere minutes ago, but you seemed already unaffected by them.

to be quite honest, seokmin still felt peeved off at his day. from his fall, to his phone, to his members being mean and unreasonable, to then having his car fail and keep him from you, to then finally getting home and picking a fight with you, it was safe to say he was still dissatisfied. he needed something to relieve his stress, but he didnt want to put that onto you again.

"honestly? i still feel frustrated. it was just such a shitty day, i ... i dont know," he sighed, "i kinda feel like breaking something."

"how about me?", you sounded so genuine as you asked.

"huh?"

"yeah. you could use me to destress. right, minnie?", there wasnt even any lust behind your words. he could tell that it was simply you trying to help out your stressed boyfriend.

"d– do you mean be mean to you?"

you nodded, leaning closer to him as you smiled.

"yes, minnie. would that help? taking your frustrations out on me?"

he groaned with no response, choosing instead to pull you into a greedy and wanton kiss.

his hands were immediately rough as they desperately kneaded at every curve in your body, so harsh in their movements he was already sure he'd leave a bruise or two in his wake.

suddenly he pulled away to inquire at you.

"wait, baby. are you sure? i don't want to hurt you."

"you won't. you never would. do your worst, seokmin," and with that, you pulled him back to you to continue kissing.

surprisingly enough, the simple kissing on its own had begun to alleviate his mood a bit. being able to feel your whines as he fondled your body as he saw fit was already making him forget about his shitty day.

it didnt take long for him to drag you to your shared room and throw you on the bed, immediately going to rip your skimpy pajamas off so that he could have a full view of the body he was about to ram into the bed.

"oh, angel. you're so fucking beautiful ... gonna be so fucking mean to you, angel, im sorry," except he wasnt sorry. and both his tone of voice and devilish grin let you know of that fact.

you lay limp for him to take action, something which made him groan internally, knowing you were putting yourself fully at his disposition. he took advantage of this, choosing to undress himself and finally begin to hover over you.

immediately he flipped you around roughly, forcing you onto your elbow and knees as you gasped at the sudden movement. he fondled you some more and made it so you'd arch your back for him as much as physically possible.

he had no need to prepare neither you nor himself, as he was hard the moment you asked him to use you, and you were practically dripping at his rough attitude.

"baby, gonna fuck you now, yeah? let me know if it's too much."

you gave him the green light, leading him to immediately ramming into you with no further warning.

"f– fuck!"

"oh, fuck. feel so fucking good, beautiful. gonna fuck you so good ... gonna atone for every shitty thing that happened today ...", with that he began slamming into you with no mercy, drinking in every single scream you let out. he knew his neighbors might mind, but he didnt care for that right now. all he wanted was for you to crumble under him.

"you're such a good toy for me, angel. my pretty girl, letting me use her– fuck! ... however i see fit."

"m– minnie!"

"i know, beautiful, i know. such a pretty toy ..."

his movements only became harsher as he grew closer and closer to his end. he knew yours was coming too, based on the heightened pitch of your moans and the way you tried to push yourself back on him despite the sheer strength of his thrusts. it was impossible for him not to fall in love with how good you were for him. it was also impossible for him to be actually mean to you, choosing instead to praise you as your orgasm came to be.

"c– cum for me, beautiful. let me fill up your pretty cunt ..."

"yes, minnie! yours, all yours ..."

he didnt need more than that to fill you up, ramming against you one last time as he winced at the loud sound of his hips slamming against your ass. he swore he almost lost consciousness at the inexplicable pleasure he felt from cumming so deep inside you, hearing you slump over due to lack of energy.

your orgasms subsided together, leading seokmin to do quick work of your clean up and settling with you in the still half-messy bed, rushing to hold you in his arms, which was what he'd wanted since leaving home that morning.

"feel better?", you broke the silence.

"yeah, thanks angel," he grinned at you, giving you a quick peck.

"you weren't even mean to me!", you whined.

"it was hard, okay? i love you!"

"yeah, whatever ..."

"say it back!"

"ill think about it."

"baby!", this time he unglued your bodies, hovering over you as he tried to give you his, "you dont be mean!"

you giggled at him, giving in upon his sudden attack of kisses all over your face, "fine! i love you!"

he finally stopped, opting to cuddle into your side once more, "that's what i thought."

a/n: sorry the smut was too short idk how to write seokmin as mean 💔

[fellthemarvelous]

Holy forking shirtballs

I'm choosing violence today. I started this on Twitter, but I'm going to finish my thoughts here like I always do.

But what really blows my mind the most is the way that people look at Aziraphale's "choice" at the end, as if he had one to fucking begin with.

I'm sorry, but Aziraphale knows how messed up Heaven is. He told The Metatron, more than once, that he did not want to go back to Heaven! We can debate what each of us means by "choice" all night because my "choice" and your "choice" might be two different concepts. He could have been strong armed by The Metatron or he could have looked at where things were headed and realized he had no choice but to intervene himself.

You need to ask yourself what Aziraphale has a moral imperative to do.

What do we owe to each other?

Seriously, if you have not watched The Good Place, I recommend you go and watch it, because it absolutely shaped how I've viewed Good Omens 2 since its release.

My levels of frustration with the bad faith mischaracterizations of Aziraphale are off the charts. If you are blaming him for everything, implying that he should have to grovel and that Crowley has a right to hurt him back, you have missed the point of Good Omens entirely.

I defend Aziraphale, but I don't think one of them is more right or wrong than the other. They're equals. They're a group of the two of them, acting and reacting to each other throughout history. They're Alpha Centauri.

I cannot even begin to explain how fucking devastated I felt when Crowley said these words, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. What he said took a lot of courage because he's finally admitting something they've both been too scared to publicly define for 6,000 years. Crowley has had to spend so long with a rough outer shell because he fell and had to hide all of his softness.

The look on his face was one of pure joy when he created that nebula, but I think the fact that he got to share that moment with Aziraphale is what has always stuck with him.

So yeah, seeing Crowley with a broken heart at the end of "Every Day" was sad for me as well.

My brain still lives here!!

But Neil has said that Good Omens 3 is not quiet, gentle, or romantic. I imagine it's going to be more like the the first season in which they are not central to the plot. GO2 will help us make sense of how they ended up where they are when we see the bigger picture with all the other major players involved with GO3.

Aziraphale was still a soldier and accidentally got himself discorporated in his own magic circle in season one. He had a platoon waiting on him to start Armageddon, and he deserted them to go save the world with Crowley instead. Aziraphale is a deserter. I need everyone to remember that. He yeeted himself out of Heaven and sought out Crowley before even locating a body just to warn him about what was happening so they could try to save the world together.

I can't help but think of 1941 and that magician who had been arrested for being a deserter.

Aziraphale disobeyed orders. That took courage but it branded him as a traitor against Heaven. They tried to destroy him for it the same way Hell tried to destroy Crowley for his part in stopping the war.

Aziraphale and Job are the only characters we have seen interacting with God directly. Aziraphale has spoken to God before and he is determined to do so again.

Aziraphale knows Heaven is flawed, but he also knows it's supposed to be good. He wants it to be good. He does not like the way the system works and he wants to make a difference. (And I'm pretty sure he's also determined to talk to God without being intercepted by The Metatron.)

Since when is that a bad thing? I don't get it. And I've had this discussion before.

If you need to change the system by burning the old one to the ground, it's still change, and we don't know what Aziraphale has planned.

It seems to me that people just want to see Aziraphale fail because it would punish him for returning to Heaven instead of running off with Crowley.

Some of y'all take everything Aziraphale says or does and twist those things into malicious anti-Crowley actions because you think the only reason Aziraphale exists is to make Crowley happy, and if he isn't thinking only about Crowley then he's doing something wrong.

Aziraphale does not exist as a plot device to further Crowley's character. They come as a pair. They've been learning from each other for 6,000 years. Crowley challenges Aziraphale just as much as Aziraphale challenges him.

You can be mad at Aziraphale all you want, but villainizing him is gross. Defending Crowley does not mean you have to tear down and mischaracterize Aziraphale anymore than defending Aziraphale means you have to tear down Crowley (but I don't see that happen on nearly the same level it happens to Aziraphale). Stop painting Aziraphale as an abusive partner, for fuck sake.

Aziraphale knows there are flaws in the system. He wants to make a difference, and since he has seen that Gabriel can change, then maybe the whole system can. He has to at least try, and if he can succeed then maybe he and Crowley can stop hiding and finally be together without having to look over their shoulders all the time.

Why is that a bad thing? He's just as protective of Crowley as Crowley is of him!

But don't forget that Aziraphale's wing was covering Adam and Eve too. As much as a wants to protect Crowley, he has a moral imperative to keep humanity safe as well.

He sent Adam and Eve into the unknown with a flaming sword so they could protect themselves.

As much as he wants to be with Crowley, there are 8 billion people on Earth heading toward the Second Coming and Judgment Day. They'll work together to fight alongside humanity in the end. Aziraphale should not have to humiliate himself just to earn Crowley's forgiveness. That's a rancid notion.

The Resurrectionist was a whole ass moral dilemma for Aziraphale, which is why I brought up The Good Place earlier, but that's a post for a different time.

Aziraphale has his own motivations and they're just as important as Crowley's, and they don't have to be chalked up to Aziraphale being the bad guy. Weird, I know, but shades of grey.

"To the world."

[almostempty]

What’s Love Got to Do with It

(oberyn x f!reader)  wc: 4.6k | other fics 

note: hey y’all it’s me ya gurl, here to defile another prompt with a silly idea <3 Sooo, from the three brain cells that brought you fuckboy!joel and divorced dad rock dilf!joel 🫡i now humbly present …. Frat bro Oberyn, Aka The Red Viper, aka the Prince of Pong, aka the Slut of Delta Psi (i did steal the frat name from the film Neighbors—in which they do sing a line from Creed in their frat chant, so in some twisted way, they’re kind of all connected right??) 

I fear this may have just been funny to me so feel free to skip, but thank you to everyone who tolerates my shenanigans <3. 

ANYWAY, The lovely @baronessvonglitter bestowed upon me Oberyn x What’s Love Got to Do with It for fucktober (happy belated bday babe) but naturally, i made it weird. Thanks to @sunshinehaze1 for reminding me that modern AUs exist when I got scared of the GOT universe and to @auterdelabre for reminding me that the answer is always fuckboy. Don’t blame them for anything else.

Summary: You attend a fraternity toga party, and you catch the eye of Delta Psi’s notorious Red Viper. He shows you how he got the nickname and then he shows you something else he’s known for. 

tags/warnings: explicit 18+ smut, alcohol/partying, gratuitous flirting, piv, fuckboy behavior aka on to the next one, infidelity, i couldn’t bring myself to write his dialogue in frat bro™ –aka i didn’t fully commit to the bit bc that man just had to be smooth and had to fuck no matter what universe i put him in, apologies if that ruins your immersion in my pwp, per usual: no y/n, f!reader is able bodied otherwise no specifics, unprotected piv as if it’s no biggie because it’s fiction (don’t do that irl), no beta/limited proofreading sorry for all mistakes 

“Oh my god, that’s him!” Your best friend shouts into your ear as you walk down the sidewalk. You blend into the sea of toga-clad college kids, sandals slapping against the pavement. Liv leans on you, pointing out the guy she’s talking about. You can hear the music pouring out into the street and people inside yelling and chanting over someone doing a keg stand or something equally as exciting and alcohol-related, you assume. 

The guy she pointed out is leaning casually against the banister, letting some ripped blond dude entertain him on the porch. “That’s the guy your roommate was talking about?” you question your friend. Liv agrees with a smile as you walk towards the front steps. 

Everyone else on the porch looks like a frat bro wrapped in a wrinkly bedsheet, but for some reason, he seems almost godlike. He’s luminous under the warm lights. As if he knew you were checking him out, he turns his head just as you walk past, and his eyes sweep over you, making your face hot. Something sparks between you before he turns away, taking a swig of his drink. 

Liv had given you a rundown on what to expect at your first Delta Psi party. You had argued that you knew what college parties were like. You transferred this quarter as a senior, and you just didn’t have Greek life at your other school or your best friend to convince you to go out. But now, you’re here, dressed up and entering a party that really does feel a little more intense than the ones back at your small-town university. 

Liv’s roommate had given you the rundown on the guys she knew in the fraternity, but you didn’t pay much attention to her descriptions. You figured there was no way a Brad, Dylan, Connor, or a Brent would actually be hot. And then, when she started with the ones with nicknames, you completely checked out after Viper and Rooster. It has to defy the laws of nature for a frat bro that goes by Rooster to be able to find your clit—even if he IS hot. 

Yet, now you realize you might be eating your words because you get it. You were too quick to judge, whoops. “Which one was that?” you ask in Liv’s ear as you both make your way through the people sloshing drinks and dancing. 

“Viper!” 

You can’t help the immediate grimace that emerges on your face. “That’s so douchey!” you shout back over the noise before she pulls you down a hall toward that kitchen. She leans in close to your ear, telling you that her roommate swears she got the best head of her life from him. “No fucking way,” you argue. 

“Way,” she smirks back. “He’s got a girlfriend now, though. They’re, like, totally in love, it’s all over social media.” She mocks puking at the idea, and you share a laugh.

You explore the party together. The house is huge; one room on the main floor is blasting EDM, and another is blasting top 40 hits. There are a couple of beer pong tables in the backyard and a detached garage filled with stoners on old couches giggling to themselves. You know that Liv is itching to park her ass on one of those sofas and find a girl or guy to whom she can woo with her French inhale and makeout with for the rest of the night. 

But, she’s a loyal ass bitch who wouldn’t abandon you. You circle back through the house. You spend a little while dancing together and taking your time to see if there’s anyone else who catches your eye. Nobody really sticks out to you in the first room until you catch his eyes again. You have to do a double-take as you circle your waist and roll your body against Liv. 

He’s semi-shrouded in the corner; with the dim lighting and the packed house, it would be easy to miss the two of them altogether. But when the girl clinging to him turns around to grind her ass against him, he locks eyes with you, and you swear that fucker winks at you before a group of girls prance into the room, shouting oh my god, it’s our song! You try to shake it off. You were definitely just seeing things with the lights. 

You signal to Liv, and she follows you into the other room. You dance together a bit longer. She offers you a swig from her rhinestone-encrusted flask, but you turn her down, staying sober tonight. You feel euphoric enough with the strobe lights and the thrumming bass from the EDM remixes blasting in the room. 

You turn down a few wasted white dudes who try to dance up on the two of you. Too drunk. Not your type. Too handsy. You’re not afraid to punch a man in the throat or the nuts if they don’t get the hint, but they back off when you give them a gentle shove and a shake of your head. The most recent suitor is turning and scoping for another girl to approach when you see him again. 

He’s moving towards you, looking right at you, but there’s no girl on his arm–or crotch, now. For some reason, it makes you feel too hot. You’re sweating from the dancing anyway, so you ignore the electric look in his eye that makes your clit twitch and grab Liv’s arm to make a dash for the backyard to get some fresh air. 

You debrief with each other and come to an agreement. You tell Liv to do her thing, urging her to head towards the couch with the skater dude wearing the toga made from a dinosaur patterned sheet and the high-top vans. She agrees to text you if she plans to relocate or wants to leave before you finish taking another lap around the party. 

You sort of lie to her, claiming someone inside caught your eye. They did, but you aren’t planning to do anything about it. Instead, you part ways and head back through the house, past the pledge posing as a bouncer at the front door, and onto the front porch. The music is still loud, but it’s quieter out front. People still trickle in and out of the party. You stare out at the night sky, searching for the moon. In your own little world, you’re basking in your own peace. 

“I haven’t seen you here before,” a rich, velvety voice washes over your shoulder. It should make you jerk away, give you goosebumps, and raise your hackles. But, instead, the interruption stirs liquid heat in your core and makes your nipples hard. Because it’s him. 

You turn your head and confirm. He’s so close to you. 

“You know every girl here?” you challenge him. 

“I know the ladies and gentlemen that pique my curiosity,” his voice is so smooth. He’s a charmer, for sure. He offers you a drink, holding out two plastic cups in one hand. The size of his hand does make you tingly, but his smile falters when you shoot him one of your signature dirty looks. 

Before he can ask about the look, you take one of the cups, give him a cloyingly sweet smile, and pour it out over the railing into the grass below. The tail of his brow quirks, and he gives you a sly smile that widens into a grin and a full-chested laugh. “Oops,” you mock. 

“You’re a bold woman,” he muses, “I like that.” 

He doesn’t back down after you toss out his drink. He doesn’t take it as a rejection. He understands when you explain you don’t take open drinks from strangers at a frat party, but you roll your eyes hard when he gloats about not needing tricks or drugs to find a lover. 

He banters with you as he downs the remaining drink. He’s quick, with sharp wit and a devious smile. You can’t keep your eyes off his exposed chest, his arms, his neck, his eyes. It’s still confusing how he can look so regal, whereas everyone else in the party looks a little…goofy? Cliche? He pulls you back to the present, asking for your name before he gives you his. 

“They call me ‘the Red Viper,’” he gives you a provocative grin like he knows exactly how hot he looks, even with a bedsheet draped over his shoulder. 

You play into his hand, “Is that some kinda of euphemism?” Feeding his ego with a suggestive arch of your brow. Maybe you’re bold, but you don’t think he’s the type to be deterred by a confident woman. In fact, it seems to make him glow even brighter.

His voice lowers, dripping with an enticing challenge, “Are you looking to find out?” he asks. 

His jaw quirks, and you’re mesmerized watching him suck at his lower lip. It looks so perfectly plump and kissable, curling into a smirk as his eyes gleam with mischief. “Come,” he beckons for you to follow him deeper into the party. 

“I thought you had a girlfriend,” you say stiffly, remembering what Liv had said as you walked in. He looks at you curiously before shaking his head lightly. 

“You mean Cora? From earlier? She’s not my girlfriend. We were just dancing.” 

“No,” you shake your head, “I heard it’s all over social media. That you’re loved up.” 

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” he gives you that cocky smile that absolutely shouldn’t work but somehow makes you feel warm like you’re laying on the warm sand on a beach listening to the waves crashing. You don’t say anything else, and he leans in a little closer, “What’s love got to do with it?” he asks huskily. Dangerously. 

It makes you shudder with something warm and twisted. 

“Now,” he guides you gently but firmly, “Come.” You need him to stop saying it like an order before you do. 

You let him walk you through the party. Weaving through the boisterous crowds. They part easily for him, clearing a path like he’s royalty. 

“They call me ‘the Red Viper’ because I’m lethal at any game involving a red Solo cup.” He murmurs it into your ear like it’s a sexy secret. 

You laugh brightly at that, giving him a gentle shove. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard!” 

He gives you a coy shrug. “It’s the truth.” He leads you into the backyard, towards the beer pong tables. “I’ll show you,” he says just for you to hear. The string lights illuminate the yard in soft light; however, the mood is anything but romantic, with the drunk cheering college kids taking their drinking games very seriously. 

You watch, amused, as one team high-fives each other over their trick shot. At another table, both teams heatedly argue about “house rules.” 

“It’s the prince of pong!” one of his fraternity brothers shouts across the lawn. He gives you the most dramatic I told you so glance, and you mouth “lame” back at him. He calls ‘next game,’ and as if he were their lord, one table immediately clears out, forfeiting in a demonstration of fealty. 

“Ladies first,” he offers once he’s set up all the cups to his liking. He’s so arrogant about it, and it shouldn’t turn you on, but it absolutely does. 

You grin across the table at him. “You’re on.” 

He’s merciful at first. You land a few cups, giving you enough confidence to talk shit and tease him. But it rapidly becomes apparent that he’s a man of his word as he easily picks off every cup on your end of the table with precision.  

Despite your rapid descent towards a loss, you eat up his charm. His magnetic energy. He makes the rest of the party disappear when he looks at you. It makes your heart tingle and your pussy flutter. He’s a gracious winner, only gloating a little as he reracks the table and offers it up to other party-goers. 

“Alright, Viper, you won. You can retain your title.” You admit defeat as he slinks up close to you, ushering you along to the side of the house, only a few steps away but more secluded from the rest of the party. 

“And now, will you allow me to claim my prize?” he asks in his smoky, deep voice. 

Despite his clear intentions, you feign confusion as he wraps one wide hand around your waist and tilts your chin towards his face with the other. “I didn’t know we were playing for stakes,” you smile brashly. Your skin blazes under his touch and his seductive gaze as his eyes drop to your mouth. 

He starts to dip towards you, but you swerve away from him. It’s on the tip of your tongue to ask again if he’s in a relationship. He growls softly, almost a purr, next to your ear. “What’s wrong, my lady?” he murmurs. The intimacy of it is heady, and your surroundings fade. 

You want to take whatever he’s offering, no questions, so instead you whisper, “Tell me your real name.”

He sighs softly before giving in and telling you his name. 

“Oberyn,” you repeat back, “that’s unique.” 

He starts muttering about how he’s an international student, but you’ve got all the info you needed. Now you don’t have to add a guy named Viper to your mental list of hookups. 

“I like it,” you cut him off before slotting your mouth against his and making up for ducking out of his last attempt at a kiss with your eagerness. He wraps his arm around you, and you’re transported. One large hand presses against your lower back, urging your hips toward his, and the other cradles your jaw, giving you a sense of stability as he matches your ferocity. 

You briefly wonder if you’d have melted if he wasn’t holding you so tightly before your thoughts are consumed by the sensation of his lips against yours and his tongue running along yours. It’s not a kiss you would’ve expected from a frat guy. It’s romantic and passionate, and you feel your body rolling against his, caught up in the sensation and intensity. 

You keep going, letting yourself enjoy the moment, eating up the flavor of him, the scent of him, and the throbbing intensifying between your legs. You slip one of your hands along the back of his neck into his soft hair, and he groans into your mouth. It makes your knees weak. 

You chase his mouth as he pulls back and looks into your heavy-lidded eyes. Sharing the hot air between you, it feels like a current is looping through your bodies, buzzing with need. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” he urges in a gravelly whisper. You can feel him hardening against you. His hand on your back is firm, keeping you flush, pelvis to pelvis, making you nearly dizzy. However, his hand on your jaw is gentle, brushing his thumb along your cheek sweetly. You still can’t help goading just a little. 

“What for?” you ask playfully. 

“To fuck.” 

It makes your cheeks hot. Maybe there should be red flags popping up in your mind, but you don’t care. He likes a bold woman, and you like a direct man. 

“Unless you’d rather do it in the grass here,” he tilts his head toward the ground. You act like you’re considering the option seriously, making him laugh before he releases you from his arms. “Don’t tease,” he says with a severe look, “It wouldn’t bother me.” 

Me either, you consider before deciding not to say that part aloud. You tell him to take you to a real bed, and he does. Swiftly guiding you into the house and up the stairs, past the pledge guarding the rooms, and into his bedroom. He spins around, pinning you against the door for another searing kiss. It’s more urgent this time. He’s quickly moving to your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your tender skin as you both greedily run your hands along each other’s bodies. 

Before you can get your hands under his toga, he’s detaching from you and sinking to his knees. He moves efficiently, bunching up your toga and asking you to hold it. Then he’s hovering his hot mouth over your mound before kissing you over your lacey panties. 

“Mmm,” he hums into you and traces the crease of your thighs with one hand, following the line until he’s softly running his fingers along the edge of your panties, the tips of his fingers barely dipping beneath the hem as he moves towards your core. You watch, staring down with your mouth parted as he holds your gaze. 

He teases you, running his fingertips along your seam over the soaked fabric, tapping and teasing at your swollen clit through the fabric as he watches your needy expression morph into frustration. You shift, spreading your legs wider, but he stops you with a large hand on each thigh. 

“Hold still,” he orders, and you feel compelled to listen. He pulls your underwear down and off of you, then hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading your cunt open. “That’s better.” 

You can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or to you. You don’t have a chance to ask before he’s burying his face into your soft, wet pussy. Your breath hitches at the sensation and one of your hands flies out to grab at the door frame to steady you, while the other one digs into Oberyn’s hair. 

He’s unbothered by your dramatics. Oberyn moves with enthusiasm, drawing his tongue along your slit and pressing into your sex with his jaw. His facial hair tickles at your tender skin deliciously and his nose grazes over your clit as if his face were molded to maximize your pleasure. He changes his strategy, mouthing at your clit and sweeping his tongue over it like he’s making out with it, with the same passion that he kissed you with outside and a moment ago. 

You can feel it starting to build. Your hip flexors straining and thighs starting to tremble as your breathing gets quicker and more shallow. Closer and closer and closer. He’s perceptive and diligent. Repeating the same tricks that make you moan and dig your fingers into his hair. 

You’re stuck on the precipice, so close but not quite there. Your eyes roam around the dimly lit room, the bed, the bookshelf, the tapestry pinned to the wall, the collection of cologne bottles lined up on the desk, the mirror on top of the desk–pointing right at the bed. 

It starts to frustrate you. Not the decor choices, but the tension and the building pressure. You squirm slightly, hoping the smallest adjustment will somehow bring everything into a sharper focus. You let your eyes close, letting the roar of the party downstairs fade, focusing on the pressure and warmth of Oberyn’s mouth. 

More, more, more. 

It’s all you can think as Oberyn stays dedicated to getting you off on his tongue. He sucks firmly at your clit before releasing you with a slick sound. He hovers, mouth fanning warm air over your core looking up at you. His eyes are lit with hunger.  

“More?” he asks in his deep, rich voice. 

You can’t tell if you were chanting out loud or if he’s somehow reading your mind. “Please,” you respond with a needy edge, “more.” You catch the sparkle in his eye and the flash of a grin. He works you up again, towards the brink, relishing in your responses as you whine with need as he resumes holding you in a purgatory of pleasure.

Mercifully, he does give you more. Oberyn grips your thigh with one hand, steadying you, while he swipes two fingers along the length of your pussy once, twice, coating them in your arousal before plunging them inside of you. The increased pressure and friction from his fingers pumping into you causes you to moan. It’s a lower register than your breathy panting from earlier, layered with satisfaction as you can feel the anticipation starting to crest. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg, “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t stop, groaning at your words, rumbling against you. That snaps the tension and you cry out his name and a string of curses as your orgasm hits. He doesn’t slow down when your cunt contracts around his fingers and he doesn’t lose focus when you shake and writhe against mouth. Not until you’re pulling him off of you, oversensitive and wrung out.  

Oberyn stands, wiping at his chin before pulling you in close for another breathtaking kiss. He walks you back toward the bed and you fall into it, pulling him with you. You tangle together, frantically, you want him inside of you now. He laughs softly against your hot neck, sensing your frustration. 

“Shh,” he murmurs as you huff with defeat. He moves deftly, braced over you with one arm, and freeing his cock with the other. Your hands stroke up and down his shoulders and back, and you hook one leg around his hip, encouraging him. “You want me to fuck you now?” he asks and you whisper a yes that turns into a gasp as he runs his tip through your soaked center. “And how do you want it?”

“Hard.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, sinking into you deeper and deeper, and pulling back, all the way out, then all the way in. “Fuck,” he says to himself as he sets a quick pace, slaming his hips into yours making the bedframe creak with every thrust. If the noise from the party didn’t drown everything else out, you might be embarrassed to have strangers over hear, but you would be surprised if anyone could hear a thing. And, even if you were louder than the party, you could care less about being caught as Oberyn fucks you into the mattress. 

“Harder,” you goad him, hoping for more. To your horror he pulls out of you completely, but you swiftly find yourself flipped onto your stomach as he lifts your hips and enters you from behind. You press back, meeting his thrusts, bouncing off of his hips until he presses his palm between your shoulder blades. He forces your chest into the mattress, holding you still so he can fuck you like he means it, with enough force that all you can do brace yourself and ball your fists, twisting the bedding between your fingers. 

With your cheek against the bed you can watch your reflection in the mirror. It’s hot, even with your togas draped and bunched up, you look good together. It makes you grin. He catches you looking and turns, meeting your eyes in the mirror before watching your bodies. He grips your hips firmly and you can barely keep your eyes open to watch as he continues. 

He overwhelms you with his stamina, keeping up a pace that has your mind feeling blissfully fuzzy. He says something else before folding over you and slipping his hand around towards your clit, determined to feel you come around his cock. You’re so close already, it’s only a moment, a few more thrusts, before shuddering beneath him. He tries to fuck you through it, but you clench and constrict around him so tightly that he pulls out while you’re still moaning. 

You can hear the slick wet sounds as he strokes himself, cursing under his breath again, before you feel the warmth as he comes across the swell of your ass and your fluttering cunt. You sink, dropping your hips and relaxing onto the bed while he catches his breath. Oberyn squeezes at your thighs, offering praise you don’t quite hear, then he’s slipping off the bed. He cleans you up with a towel, but you remain still for a little longer, enjoying the satisfaction and the sweet ache from the intensity. 

“Take your time,” he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder. It’s gentle. You murmur a thanks at him before breaking into an airy giggle. It makes your ribcage shake, bouncing slightly on the mattress, realizing that Liv is going to die when you tell her you can confirm her roommates story. Oberyn doesn’t question your reaction. 

He pauses to readjust his toga and his hair in the mirror. Once seemingly satisfied, he turns back towards you, watching you sit up. “I’ll see you out there,” he says with a smile before he slips out of the room. 

You linger for just a little. Allowing yourself the privacy to revel in the sweet satisfaction of the post-sex chemicals flowing through your body. You let yourself grin while you check your phone to see where Liv is at. 

You take another minute, using the mirror to fix your own appearance, aiming for a slightly less obvious version of I just got railed, before meeting your own eyes. For a sobering second you remember you didn’t get a real answer about if he has a girlfriend. He sure as fuck doesn’t act like it, you decide. You shake off the thought. 

He might be a frat bro, he might be a piece of shit, all you know for sure is that he is hot, a good kisser, and he knew how to make you come. Three things you didn’t think you’d find in one guy under this roof. You give yourself a final onceover before heading out of the room and down the stairs. 

You don’t see Oberyn in the first few rooms you pass. You keep looking; he couldn’t have gone far. You’re barely finished that thought when you spot him in the kitchen. The sight makes you stumble, shooting a hand out to the wall to catch your balance. 

He’s leaning casually, with his hip against the counter, as a starry-eyed girl looks up at him, giggling flirtatiously, as she lays a hand along his bicep. 

It’s in slow motion. The way he looks at her hand, the way his eyes trail along her arm, over the curve of her breasts, and down her legs before flitting back to her face with that same sinful smirk you just fell for. 

Your shoulders drop. It’s not like you were planning your wedding or that you even thought a date was on the table—but you didn’t think he’d be on to the next girl before you made it down the stairs. 

You start to recenter yourself, reaching to check your phone again before you look for Liv. 

He sees you before you can mind your business and plan your next move. Catching your eye through the doorway. Before you can formulate a reaction, you’re stuck, held in his gaze. He winks at you again, only this time there’s no question if you were making it up. He winked at you and despite everything, it makes your whole body tingle. 

“I saw that!” Liv shouts into your ear, wrapping an arm around you. “You have to tell me what the fuck that was about. But first can we please get pancakes or cheese fries?”

You don’t bother turning back for a second glance as you follow Liv toward the front door. 

You must understand though the touch of your hand

Makes my pulse react

That it's only the thrill of boy meeting girl

Opposites attract

It's physical

Only logical

You must try to ignore that it means more than that

Oh, oh, oh

What's love got to do, got to do with it?

…..

tags for babes, but no presh:

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy 

[halfagone]

Trick or Treat! :3

...hmm no pics eh? Ill be in your dms mwahaha

And I was so happy to see you there 🤣❤️

I don't know what everyone else has been doing for trick or treat in their inbox, but this is my blog and I make the rules. So here's some brain rot:

---

Danny had braced for the pain but it had still left him sorely unprepared. He hissed a breath as the balm, sticky and watery all at once, oozed over his arm in generous amounts. His flesh burned to the touch, Damian's hand on his like a wrought iron brand.

"I blame you for this," Danny muttered, petulant. There was very little heat behind it. He just felt better to get it off his chest. Let Damian know where they stand.

"I'm sure you do," Damian told him. Like Danny was a child meant to be indulged and pampered. It chafed, to be honest. Even if it was kind of true.

Damian had to be ten years his senior like this, not at all the twin he'd grown up with, loathed and loved in turn. Damian was twenty-five. Danny never thought one of them could make it to twenty-five.

His evil version had been twenty-four. Would have been twenty-four, if not for Plasmius. He never would have made it to twenty-five either.

It was so weird. Damian looked so old. He had just graduated university. Danny had always thought of uni kids as grown-ups, adults, people who had already made it in the world. Damian just looked tired, like he wanted to go back to bed. Damian at fourteen had been more put-together than this.

"Do you think if I found myself in this timeline the world would collapse on itself from the paradox?" Danny asked. It wasn't a fit of daydreaming, although Damian certainly seemed to take it like one.

His not-so-twin-twin snorted. "I couldn't begin to tell you what the laws of this universe are. I would not be surprised if its maker were sneering and laughing at us now." Damian rolled his eyes. "You are usually much better at distraction, even at this age. Losing your touch, ahki?"

"It was a serious question," Danny pouted, "you clearly don't want me here. And if this really is the future then I should know Clockwork already and he could just send me back-"

"What makes you think," Damian slid his gaze up to his face, "that I do not want you here?"

Danny made a face. "When have you ever wanted me?"

Damian didn't reply.

He stayed silent as he wrapped Danny's burn marks with an equally generous amount of bandages. Danny tested the limb, brows raised, impressed. Of course Damian was a perfectionist, always had been, so maybe he shouldn't be so surprised. But Damian did so love to make his life difficult.

"You can't see him, anyways. Your future."

Danny blinked, lashes fluttering, and Damian met his gaze head on.

"He's already dead."

[ladykailitha]

The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 12

Welp.

Fuck.

Good news for you guys, bad new for me. I accidentally labeled two chapters as Chapter 12. There AREN'T thirteen chapters. There are FOURTEEN.

So I'll figure out when to post the extra chapter. But in the meantime:

Enjoy Eddie giving the denouement. Like that's it. That's whole chapter.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

~

Eddie called everyone into the club. Billy Hargrove, Heather Holloway, Nancy Wheeler, Jason Carver, Wayne and all his crew. The only one that wasn’t there was his ace in the hole.

“Thank you all for coming,” Eddie said, sitting on the edge of the stage while everyone sat around in the tables.

Hilariously Nancy and Jason sat as far apart from Billy as possible. What was even more hilarious was that Billy, Stella, and Heather formed a weird triangle trying to keep their distance without looking like it was deliberate.

“Just so everyone is aware,” he said with a grin. “Everything is be recorded, audio and visual.” He pointed to the cameras.

Nancy frowned, but merely crossed her arms and said nothing.

“These past couple of months have been the hardest the club has ever faced,” he began, “in all its history of being opened. And everyone just kept telling me it was bad luck. That bad news comes in waves and that we would ride this out same as always. But it all felt so contrived and I could not figure out why.”

“The absolute arrogance!” Jason huffed. “Thinking you know better than God!”

“Oh honey,” Eddie purred. “I’d have to believe in him to think that. Which I don’t, so shut it. “

Jason grumbled, but wisely settled down.

“Everyone also seemed to think this all started with the arrival of Steve,” he said, causing Steve to flush in embarrassment. “But Steve only got hired because I needed a new Envy.”

“Which I still think is bullshit,” Billy huffed. “What I do off the clock is none of your God damned business.”

Eddie shrugged. “And normally I would agree with you, Billy but you add in it was the mayor’s daughter and I wasn’t going to court legal trouble. But somehow I did anyway. So why?”

Everyone looked around at each other, trying to suss out who was to blame.

“You see I was missing a piece of the puzzle,” Eddie said, leaping off the stage to his feet. “And hooboy, did I get it when I talked to Jonathan Byers.”

Nancy’s head shot up, her jaw slack and her eyes wide. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this gibberish.” She got to her feet and grabbed her purse.

“What’s matter, Nancy?” Steve said, sidling up Eddie. “Don’t you want to hear how Eddie figured out your scheme?”

Her head snapped around. “There is no scheme it’s all in the deluded mind of the this deranged individual. I will not be part of this.”

“You’re fianceé will probably get arrested,” Eddie said with a half shrug. “For her part in the scheme.”

Nancy turned around slowly. “I’m dating Jonathan. You just said my fianceé was female. A her.”

Jonathan came out from backstage. “That’s right, I’ve been the other man for years. But it was okay with Heather because she got off on cuckolding with other men, too.”

Everyone gasped as they turned to look at Heather.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she huffed, examining her nails.

“You see,” Eddie said, “it always struck me as odd that she would still have a fiancé after being caught with Billy. But there was never any indication that they had broken up. But when Jonathan had told me about the photography studio I got it. Steve wasn’t supposed have been involved at all. It was an accident and one that sent Nancy scrambling.”

He started walking around the room pointing out all the players. “Billy got played as much as Jonathan did. I’m not sure how Nancy got to Stella, but Stella was supposed to target whoever it was that I hired to replace Billy.”

“For all your talk of equals,” Stella spat, “the men still out numbered us women two to one. All she had to do was ask, though she paid me too. I didn’t realize that she was planned on shutting the place down. I thought she was trying to get you to sell it.”

“Then go to a different strip joint,” Eddie said rolling his eyes. “Oh wait... it’s because I actually pay my strippers. Do you really think that the new owners would be as generous?”

She gave little half shrug with a moue. “It would have been if I bought it.”

Everyone gasped again.

“Go to hell, Stella,” Bakir hissed. Bakir was an immigrant and his English wasn’t very good. “Would be horrible boss.”

“Fucking hell,” Scott agreed. “I’d take Eddie over anyone willing to hurt people for money.”

Danny raised her hand. “Which brings up an interesting point, what does Nancy get out of this?”

Eddie grinned and snapped his fingers at her. “I was thinking the same thing. What does Nancy Wheeler get out of shutting down these businesses? And the answer is a world-wide exclusive to the story. I think she got this high off getting the lab shut down when she was in high school that she had to keep chasing. That same high serial killers get.”

“So what did start all this?” Steve asked from the table he shared with Scott and Robin.

“Jason Carver,” Eddie said smugly. “When Chrissy broke up with him, he became enraged. He had known that Nancy had done exposés before and brought her to one of the Sin nights. She didn’t agree to it until she heard that it was one of the places Jonathan cleaned on occasion.”

Jason’s head whipped around to face her. “This wasn’t enough on its own?” he huffed waving wildly at the poles on the stage.

“No,” Eddie said shaking his head with a huff. “She had to control Jonathan because if he got wind of her schemes he would leave her for good.”

“Damn right,” Jonathan snarled. “And this is me breaking up with you Nancy.”

“You don’t know what you are doing Jonathan,” Nancy purred. “I’m trying to save your soul. Or I could tell Mommy all about how you took pictures of me while I was undressing. A sweet, underaged girl.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

Jonathan began laughing. “That? That’s what you’ve been holding over my head all this time? I told my mom about that when I got into a fight with your then boyfriend and the cops got called. Fuck you.”

She snapped her mouth shut and glared at him. Her hold on him well and truly gone.

“Back to the scheme,” Eddie said landing at Heather’s table. “The first thing she did was find out the weak parts of my operation. She must have overheard me telling Jeff, that a political scandal would be grounds for instant termination.”

Nancy shrugged. “That alleyway is so easy to hide in, you really should get that checked.” She winked at him.

“Then she deployed her fianceé,” Eddie continued clicking his tongue against his teeth, “to find an easy mark to get into bed with. Immediately she zeroed in on Billy. Loud, obnoxious, and egotistical. He was perfect.”

“Fuck you,” Billy huffed. “No one made me do anything!”

Eddie chuckled. “Too easy, honestly. It’s honestly the one fault I find in your plan, you could have chosen someone a little more difficult.” He held up his thumb and forefinger close together.

“But I digress.” He held up his hands. “Billy would get caught with Heather, by Nancy, a part left out the papers because she has friends in high places in those publications.”

Again Nancy looked smug.

“You won’t be so smug when Eddie gets through with you,” Steve said shaking his head. “Where are your denials now?”

“Why deny any of it?” she asked with a laugh. “He’s painting me to be some evil genius, that’s quite the accomplishment.”

“Don’t worry, I’m just getting started,” Eddie assured her, walking over to where Stella sat with Danny and Levi. “This is where she tripped up. Stella was supposed to keep escalating the attacks on the new dancer until they got seriously hurt or they quit. Only they weren’t counting on Steve. Steve whom, if Nancy let get hurt like that would seriously damage her reputation. So tried everything she could to dislodge him herself. But Steve was already entrenched into the club’s culture. So she had to show her hand early so that Stella would be forced to stop the attacks against him.”

“I knew it was a risk,” Nancy admitted with a shrug. “I thought I could appeal to his better nature and our friendship, but he likes stripping.”

Steve laughed. “Hell yeah, I do. It’s good money and better company.”

Nancy rolled her eyes.

“But then it really unraveled,” Eddie said with a grin, “when Jonathan spotted Steve coming out of the dressing room after his lap dance and asked for help. He wanted to know Steve knew of any place that would be willing to take him on full time.”

“When I found out she was willing to help Steve get a job,” Jonathan spat, “but was constantly undermining my ability to even hold a job, I was willing to take anything Steve could help me get so I could get out from under her thumb.”

“Then I met with him,” he continued. “I found him to be genuine and hardworking. His foreman spoke highly of him and all I needed to know was what position he would take. So everyone I would you like you to meet Jonathan Byers, the new chef’s assistant under Monty.”

All the crew of Hellfire clapped except Stella, Levi and Danny.

“And I would like to introduce you to our three new dancers,” Eddie finished with a wink. “Micaella Dimitriou, Kyle White, and Mason Clark. After all Levi, Danny, and Stella are under arrest now.”

“What?!” Danny squawked, leaping to her feet as cops swarmed the club.

Immediately Heather started crying about how she was tricked into all this and how much of a victim she was. All while Nancy screamed about how much of a bitch she was and how she never loved her.

In the end, Jason, Heather, Nancy, Stella, Levi, and Danny were all carted away for varying offenses.

Eddie dusted his hands off. “Right now that garbage has been cleaned out, I am announcing that we are closing the club for two we–”

A roar of outrage erupted from the rest of the crew.

He held up his hands. “Just for two weeks and you’ll get paid based on the average from last year. We are going to be doing some remodeling and it will allow the new dancers time learn their roles.”

There was some murmuring, but that was fair enough.

“Micaella will be in Megera,” Eddie said, “the Fury of ancient Greece. Mason as Set, the Egyptian god of chaos, and Kyle as Kimaris, marquis of hell.”

That got a lot more cheers and excitement.

“Megera will be taking over as Wrath,” Eddie said. “But this time I did give anyone the chance the audition for it.”

Scott snickered. “I still don’t know how you kept it from those three, it was brilliant seeing their shocked Pikachu faces.”

“Oh!” Eddie said with a shy smile. “That was easy. I didn’t tell anyone it was to replace them except for a couple of close confidants.” He shrugged. “I even had them come in, told them it was for a new routine.”

Gareth raised his hand. “He didn’t tell me. Probably because I would have blabbed it all over the place.”

“He didn’t tell me either,” Chrissy said, “I think he wanted me to have plausible deniability if Stella came after me. Which she had shown in the past she was willing to do.”

“Right in one,” Eddie said snapping his fingers at her with a fond smile. “I only told Wayne, Steve, and Scott.”

Jonathan tilted his head to the side. “Why those three?”

Eddie started counting off on his fingers. “Wayne and Scott because they were going to be helping me hire. And Steve because he figured it out on his own. Didn’t you, beautiful?”

“The dance he was having us learn was very...” Steve said with a blush, “angry?” He snapped his fingers. “Fierce! That’s the word. I also knew that Billy had be conspiring with Stella, so I figured that Eddie was going to replace her.”

“Fair enough,” Chrissy said. “So what are all the changes that are being made?”

Eddie launched into getting new tables and chairs, a new stage, a better sound equipment and eventually a new wing, but that would take longer than the two weeks he was willing to be closed. He explained that they would continue to work at night, while the construction crew worked during the day.

“Then to celebrate the new opening,” he said, “we’ll finally do the fairy tale night!”

Then the cheer really did go up. They had been wanting to do that for ages. They had their costumes and had the dances down, but first Chrissy hurt her ankle and then this shit came up and it was past time for them to do it.

Eddie giggled. “Is this why detectives do this shit? Because holy hell was that a rush!”

~

Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @garden-of-gay

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff @dolphincliffs @chameleonhair

10- @themoonagainstmers @novelnovella @micheledawn1975