#fuck all the way off that’s fucking bullshit and we all know it

[charmed-asylum]

GIRRRRRL ONCE AGAIN IM SNAPPING MY DIVA FAN OUT AND SNAPPING MY GOD DAMM FINGER OOOH GIRL I WAS THINKING THE SAME THING LORD MMM MMMM MMM. Nah bc she ain’t that stupid and with Sarah and Wheezie. Lets me realistic give the bene of doubt . What if Ward wanted the land and dad like no whole time. Makes sense why Rafe ain’t moving in to her land but snatch her up and shit. Like if it’s a real thing why didn’t they discuss this with the will or something no out side party to approve of this. You want the land I’m giving you money which again if Ward was doing so much why didn’t they not sale the horse why did they not gain the staff of what not others had and can share if it in fact a REAL THING. Also Rafe you can’t be more idk non bull in a china house shit. What would few days even do huh nothing ain’t nothing but a shit on a cracker. Huh.

Let be realistic you know not only did Rafe lose his shit seeing her in her outfit but I bet even Ward did a 👀. “The long-sleeve, cropped sweater that featured a soft ruffle trim that barely grazed your midriff, paired with a high-waisted, flowing skirt that swayed with every step” I feel bad because again he manipulating her to do stuff but she justifies it with things like oh I like to do it anyway and a thought of what happens if I don’t and do. “ You certainly knew how to get dolled up, like Rafe said, and lucky for him, you liked makeup and clothes that made you feel breezy and feminine” even at the end all he doing is manipulating her I’m sorry but I’m adding the fact that yes they just met but out of all the girls OUT OF ALL OF THEM he choose her so someone some how she got pick he could go to a shit tone of people but he went to her and they just met how the fuck does Wheezie know shit about her and she don’t know shit about them two days two days she knew them. That’s it.

Again out girl may say she a bimbo bc she got bimbo ways but girl yesssss remember that shit .” When the room grew quiet, Rafe’s words rattled around in your head. You’d always done what your father had said, let him lead you in all aspects of your life, because you trusted him. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how your father expected you to trust someone else. In the end, he was the reason you were here now.  He’d handed you over to someone else, like, what? A trade deal? The whole thing was completely unreal” I wonder what was the convo between John B and Rafe. Girl don’t be looking at his goods it’s a trap 🪤

Weee we meet wheezie omg thank you father of god huh use her girl use her a s shield. “ You liked her instantly “ When she was talking about what Sarah never had time to do I wonder if reader become that sister wheezie always wanted also what did they tell her regards the reader bc she acting like she should know a shit tone then she does. Does she know of anyone from the neighborhood.

AGAIN OUT GIRL AINT NO BLONDE HAIR BIMBO WOO WOO” It wasn’t urgent, but you had hoped to speak with Ward sooner rather than later. Part of you wanted to officially see the contract he’d wrote up with your father. Could two men really decide together that you should be married off? Was that still legal? “

Do you think the look Rafe gave reader was of possession more than shock or pleasure. Or his tone, Rafe’s voice cut through the growing tension, his tone firm, almost possessive. He makes me huh “ You won’t need to be over there, it’s no place for a woman “ Like 1st chapter I got better things to do now it’s MINE ERRRREREEEE WOOF WOOF 🐶

Sarah ain’t waiting for nothing lol

Rafe touch and firmness Man U need to go tho a year book and jerk off or something. Like damn he in that much of a rush I have to say even Ward should be a little worried like don’t this seem a little unstable and with Sarah calling bullshit even Wheezie shim in like damn .

Rafe sure as hell went from it’s a duty to know it’s about legacy with a puff out chest. Idk I feel he so calculated that what part real or not real it’s like an abusive man or a criminal trying to reason on why they do what they do. I just feel bad bc this reminds me of what she said in part one about family and shit he must of teacher diary ( something I can see him doing) once start talking about this bit I’m like yup he got the biggest breeding kink if I didn’t ever seen one. I’m just huh this shit got me getting high blood pleasure and I read it again I get mad again

rough hands, soft chains [2] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, DUBCON, loss of virginity, rafe is HUGE, breeding kink, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

a/n: i only tag people who reblog the fic AND let me know their thoughts, thank you :)

In which you meet your new family, the Camerons, and learn Rafe's true intentions.

word count: 5.1k

part one

rafe cameron masterlist

The spare outfit you’d packed for your failed escape attempt was a delicate two-piece set in white. The long-sleeve, cropped sweater that featured a soft ruffle trim that barely grazed your midriff, paired with a high-waisted, flowing skirt that swayed with every step. The lightweight fabric was a reflection of your usual preference for comfortable clothes. A handful of other items hung in the closet, clearly not yours, but you couldn’t bring yourself to accept whatever offering the Camerons had left for you.

After giving your reflection a look, you turned your attention your room. You floated over to the vanity, a rustic wooden display decorated with gold trinkets. You’d only packed the essentials, meaning you’d limited yourself to mascara, concealer, blush and lipgloss. You slid onto the matching stool decking to touch up your makeup, wiping away the smudged mascara and applying a fresh coat of lip gloss. Lip gloss always had a way of brightening your mood, even now. You certainly knew how to get dolled up, like Rafe said, and lucky for him, you liked makeup and clothes that made you feel breezy and feminine. 

When the room grew quiet, Rafe’s words rattled around in your head. You’d always done what your father had said, let him lead you in all aspects of your life, because you trusted him. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how your father expected you to trust someone else. In the end, he was the reason you were here now.  He’d handed you over to someone else, like, what? A trade deal? The whole thing was completely unreal.

Something caught your attention outside the large windows. Rolling pastures stretched out before you, dotted with fences and patches of wildflowers swaying gently. Your gaze drifted toward the yard below. Rain trickled down slowly but you realized the figures moving in the distance, behind a tall white fence, were Juliet and John B. Making his way to the fence’s edge, now adorned in a work jacket and dark hat to protect from the rain, was Rafe. 

They were soon deep in conversation. Your eyes lingered on Rafe’s figure a little too long before shifting to Juliet, whose movements were graceful and unbothered. She had been alone for so long, your father had been forced to sell the other three horses your family owned years ago, and her care had undoubtedly suffered as your father’s health declined. Surely, the Camerons had at least a hundred horses and the resources to ensure Juliet was well cared for and had proper company. For a moment, you wondered if she might be happier here, happier than even you.

You were grateful for the distraction when a knock came at your door an hour later. You expected it to be Rafe, but a fleeting thought made you pause, would Rafe even bother knocking?

When you opened the door, you were surprised to find a dark-haired girl standing there, no older than fifteen. She was smiling, her eyes full of curiosity.

"Hey," she said, giving you a once-over with a playful look. "I’m Wheezie, Rafe’s little sister.”

So this was the other Cameron sibling? You smiled instinctively and offered your hand. "Oh, hi! I’m Y/N."

You blinked, studying her more carefully. She looked nothing like Rafe, and in that moment, she seemed almost... approachable. Less intimidating. Her warmth, however, felt almost out of place given the situation.

"I like your outfit," she said, her gaze scanning your clothes and makeup. "And your makeup. Ugh, I wish I could do mine like that. Sarah never has time to show me how."

“Sarah?” you asked, a little confused.

"My older sister," Wheezie explained, raising an eyebrow as if surprised. "Rafe’s never mentioned her?"

You shook your head, realizing she might think you'd known Rafe longer than just today. “Uh, no. He hasn’t.”

"Well, there’s three of us," Wheezie continued, her voice casual. "And Rose, our step-mom."

“Oh, okay,” You nodded, taking in all of the information. You weren’t at all used to meeting new people, “It’s nice to meet you. Can I ask you if Mr. Ward is home yet? I kinda need to speak with him.” 

Wheezie’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of disappointment flickering in her eyes. “Him and Rose have been gone all day. Cattle auction, I think. They probably won’t be back until dinner.”

You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. It wasn’t urgent, but you had hoped to speak with Ward sooner rather than later. Part of you wanted to officially see the contract he’d wrote up with your father. Could two men really decide together that you should be married off? Was that still legal? Wheezie, sensing your hesitation, brightened up and added, “I could show you around the house in the meantime.”

You thought about it for a second, then smiled. “Sure, that would be nice.”

Joining Wheezie out in the hallway, your tour began. Wheezie led you to Rafe’s room first, just beside yours. “He likes to keep it locked,” she said with a grin, “Or else I’d totally snoop around with you.”

You liked her instantly. Moving down the hall, you passed Ward’s study, a room that felt both timeless and functional. It had a desk covered in papers and shelves filled with books. Next was the master bedroom, a room with dark wood furniture and soft linens. 

Finally, Wheezie opened the door to the library. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled the room, and large armchairs were scattered around a grand fireplace. It felt like the perfect spot for quiet moments. 

You couldn’t help but feel small in this place. It held the warmth of a family home but it was massive, the ceilings too high, and had decor that screamed “we’re wealthy”. 

Downstairs, the living room was the first stop, a grand space with towering ceilings. Soft leather sofas and enormous windows that offered a breathtaking view of the stretching land and mountains in the distance.

Moving through the open archway into the kitchen, you took note of counters made of polished stone, dark wood cabinets, and the appliances all state-of-the-art. The kitchen was bustling with a couple of workers, one chopping vegetables at the counter, the other pulling something out of the oven. You noticed a door that led out to a terrace.

“These are all Rose’s renovations. She’s really into interior design, and all that stuff.” 

“And the people. They work here all the time?” you asked, intrigued.

“My Dad can grill, but Rose doesn’t cook at all. So they get help,” Wheezie explained with a shrug. “I think she likes having everything perfect, you know?”

“She does have really nice taste,” You spoke genuinely, fumbling with your fingers as you looked around.

Past the kitchen was the dining room, where a long, weathered table was set for what could easily be a dozen guests. The chandelier above was massive, its crystals catching the light and casting a glow over the room.

Wheezie led you into the garage next. The space was expansive, with polished concrete floors and a collection of vehicles parked neatly in their spots, sleek trucks, a few SUVs, and a couple of classic cars you assumed were more for show. Near the back of the garage, you spotted a few horseshoe-shaped saddles hanging on the wall, alongside an array of hunting gear. There were rifles and ammunition neatly organized on the shelves, a few pairs of boots stacked by the door, and weathered hunting jackets hanging from the walls. It was practical, but still had the polished look of the rest of the house, like nothing here was ever out of place.

“Do you ride?” Wheezie asked as you took in the details of the room.

“Yeah, I have a horse named Juliet,” you grinned. “Do you?”

“I can,” Wheezie replied with a shrug. “I’m not great at it. Sarah’s better, and Rafe—well, he’s good at things like that.”

“Does Sarah live here too?” you asked, curious.

“Yeah, but she’s been MIA for two days.” Wheezie’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You can’t tell anyone this,” she continued, glancing around before leaning in closer. “She and John B. are a thing. And she hangs out with his friends.”

“It’s a secret?” you asked, intrigued but still unsure of the family dynamics at play.

Wheezie nodded, her eyes flicking to the door as if checking for eavesdroppers. “My dad wants her to be with someone whose family is... more prestigious, if that makes sense?”

You processed that for a moment, nodding slowly. “But my family’s not... prestigious. But Ward wants me to marry your brother.”

A mischievous glint sparked in Wheezie’s eyes. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. “Is it true that Rafe got you pregnant and that’s why you have to live with us?”

You froze for a split second, then blurted out, “I am not!” You suddenly realized how loud you’d been and lowered your voice, grabbing Wheezie’s hand as you whispered urgently, “I am not.”

“Other people don’t think I’m pregnant, do they?” You continued, “Because I don’t think I’ve done anything that could lead to that…”

You questioned yourself for a moment, feeling a pang of uncertainty. You’d learned about the birds and the bees just once, when you were eleven, and it had been before your mother died. After that, your education had been limited, and anything beyond what she'd explained was a blur of confusion.

What you were certain of, though, was that the kiss with Rafe couldn’t have led to that. You had never heard of anything like that happening from a simple kiss. To your knowledge, you needed at least to sleep in the same bed for that to happen, and you and Rafe hadn’t crossed that line. Before your mind could wander to that possibility, Wheezie spoke. 

“I’m not trying to be rude, just curious,” She said with a smirk, her tone light and teasing. “No one around here tells me anything.”

A few hours later you entered the dining room again with Wheezie. You’d spend a good amount of time in her room and she’d explained more about her family, including more details about Rafe. You learned that she was Rafe’s soft spot. That he was cold to almost everyone except her. Ward had a lot of expectations for him and Rafe did about everything he could to appease his father. 

“I think Rafe just wants to do things his own way,” Wheezie had mused. “But, you know, my Dad has other ideas. He’s been trying to get Rafe to be more... ‘like him.’”

Kindly, you’d accepted her request for you to help her with her makeup. You’d done hers like yours, with bright blush and shiny lipgloss. She was so excited that she practically skipped down the stairs after, her happiness infectious as she bounced in front of you. A part of you couldn’t help but smile. Was this what it was like to have a sister? The feeling was new and strange, but warm, like something you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

Rafe looked you over, as if he was offended by your choice in clothing, “What did I do?” You asked, innocently. 

Maybe he didn’t think your outfit was cute. 

“Come sit next to me,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with something possessive, as if he were commanding you rather than asking. He waved you over. 

You hesitated, looking at Ward, who gave you a reassuring, welcoming smile, and then at Rose and Sarah. Sarah’s gaze was sharp, watching you with a kind of calculating curiosity, while Rose barely seemed to notice, her eyes distant and uninterested.

You exhaled slowly, making your way over to the seat next to Rafe. Your knees brushed against each other but he didn’t move his. 

“Everyone, this is Y/N. I’ve known her family for years, and after that everything’s happened, she’s going to stay with us. She’s been through a lot.”

“Mm-hmm,” Rose murmured, almost absentmindedly. “It’s lovely to have you here with us.” Her tone wasn’t cold, but it certainly wasn’t warm, either.

Ward’s words seemed genuine, but you didn’t understand fully why he spoke so kindly. The two of you were practically strangers. Wheezie smiled brightly in reaction. Sarah, on the other hand, was looking you over even more closely than Rafe. You could see the thoughts swirling in your mind. 

“I have a question-” She blurted out.

Ward interrupted, “I’d watch yourself, young lady.” 

“I just want to make sure everything’s clear,” Sarah said softly, her voice quieter now. “I’m just... trying to understand why, that’s all. A marriage seems a little bit rushed, don’t you think? They didn’t even know each other before today.” 

“They didn’t?” Wheezie raised an eyebrow. 

The pressure in the room increased, “Sarah,” Ward began to warn her but it was Rafe who spoke up next. 

Rafe’s voice cut through the growing tension, his tone firm, almost possessive. “It’s not rushed, Sarah,” he said, turning to look at her. “It’s just what it is. No need to complicate it.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the sharpness of Rafe’s gaze making you shift uncomfortably in your seat. He answering for you, as if you didn’t have a say in how things were perceived.

Sarah didn’t flinch. Her eyes held a quiet defiance. As if to change the subject, Rafe continued, “What is that on your face, Wheeze?” 

“It’s called makeup,” She shot back, annoyed, “Y/N did it.”

Rafe turned his head towards you, “It’s a little much for someone her age, don’t you think?”

“I think she looks really pretty. I started wearing makeup way younger than her,” You responded quietly but honestly, “That’s how you, like, get good at it.” 

“See,” Wheezie stuck her tongue out at her older brother. 

Suddenly, you felt Rafe’s hand touch your knee underneath the table. The warmth of Rafe’s hand on your knee sent a jolt through you, and for a moment, you couldn’t quite focus on anything else. His touch was unexpected, as though he’d done it without thinking, and yet, there was something deliberate about the way he kept his hand resting there.

Dinner was officially served moments later. Rafe’s hand remained there on your knee as you all began to eat the carefully prepared steak, potatoes and asparagus. Your steak was already cut into a pieces, a luxury that you didn’t even know others experienced. 

Sarah pushed around her asparagus, “How do you feel about moving in with us so suddenly, Y/N? I mean, do you really know what you’re getting yourself into?”

You paused, unsure of what to say, your gaze instinctively shifting toward Rafe. His hand was still on your knee, but the grip felt firmer now, like he was holding you in place, keeping you from saying something that might upset the balance of things.

You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts, but when you opened your mouth, it all just came tumbling out. “It’s kinda overwhelming,” you started, your voice soft but a little unsure. “I miss… I miss my Dad. And you guys have all this land, and this house is so huge, it’s hard to wrap my head around it all.” You glanced at Sarah, then back to your plate. “And, like, I didn’t think I’d get married this young, but… if it’s really what my Dad wanted…”

You trailed off, feeling a little embarrassed. Sarah’s gaze softened slightly, “It’s a big step. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Up until that point, you hadn’t realized you had a choice in all of this. You could see she wasn’t questioning you out of judgement. She almost looked concerned. 

“Enough, Sarah,” Ward spoke sharply, “This is bigger than what one person thinks is right. I don’t expect you to understand but it’s about responsibility. Rafe is growing up and he’s decided to take on new responsibilities. I don’t see why you can’t be supportive.” 

“I just think she deserves more time to decide,” Sarah said. 

“There isn’t a rush. I’m not rushing them, that’s for certain. Rafe and Y/N will take the time to get to know each other.”

The room fell quiet for a moment. You could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. You glanced at him and noticed the subtle shake of his head, as if dismissing the entire idea. “What’s the point in waiting? You can plan a wedding in a few weeks, right?” 

“Rafe, son, don’t you think two should spend some time together?”

“No, Dad, we’ll get married as soon as possible. If Y/N wants to have a real ceremony, Rose can plan it, but I’d be down to just go to the courthouse.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. 

“Rafe,” Sarah leaned forward in her seat, “Are you actually crazy?”

How did we get here? You had no answers, just a rush of emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. Maybe you should’ve said something, but the lump in your throat made it hard to think. 

“We’ll figure it out” Rafe said, cutting her off. He turned his attention to you, his gaze intense but unreadable. “Right, darling?”

The way he looked at you made your stomach twist. It was as though he was asking you to confirm something you didn’t fully understand yourself. You opened your mouth to respond, but Wheezie chimed in before you could.

“Dude, that’s like, so not romantic!” she exclaimed, scrunching her nose. “You haven’t even proposed yet!”

Sarah seized the moment, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “Exactly. At least ask her properly, Rafe. Or are you afraid she’ll say no?”

The air at the table grew heavier. You glanced at Ward, who looked ready to intervene, but Rafe beat him to it. His lips curled into a tight smile, though his eyes flashed with something darker. “You think I’m afraid of that, Sarah?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

All you could think about was the way Rafe’s hand hadn’t left your knee, his grip steady, as if anchoring you to him despite the chaos swirling around the table.

“Can we drop it, please?” Rafe asked, his tone deep and final. 

“I want Y/N to stay,” Wheezie decided. 

“We all want Y/N to stay,” Ward clarified.

“Well, good,” Rose chimed in, her smile polished and hollow. “Then it’s settled.”

At the end of dinner, Ward leaned back in his chair, addressing you, “You’ll find we take care of our own here, sweetheart. Anything you need, you only have to ask.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure what else to say.

“We should get going,” Rafe announced abruptly, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. His hand left your knee, only to find the small of your back as he helped you up. 

Wheezie pouted. “But we haven’t even had dessert!”

“Next time, Wheeze,” Rafe replied, his tone firm. “Come on, Y/N.”

You followed him out of the dining room, feeling the eyes of his entire family on your back. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, trying to keep up with Rafe’s long strides. He’d given you his jacket and asked you to put on your boots, before guiding you out the front door. You clutched the jacket tightly, the night beginning to turn cool. The sky was still heavy with the remnants of rain but an orange and pink sun began to lower in the sky, peaking behind soft, gray clouds, “Rafe?” 

High grass tickled the bare legs hidden beneath your skirt as you walked into the fields, “Just for a walk. That okay with you?”

“You know, sometimes I think you really don’t care what’s okay with me.” Rafe flashed you an amused look, “Oh yeah? Maybe I like making decisions for you.” 

You snorted in disbelief but your heart fluttered nonetheless. 

"What's the real reason you brought me out here?" You asked, pushing the conversation forward despite the tension. 

Rafe stopped and turned to face you, his expression unreadable for a moment. He studied you, like he was considering his words carefully. "Maybe I just wanted to see you without all the noise around us. No distractions. Just you and me."

The ranch stretched out before you, vast and quiet. The ground beneath your feet was soft as you walked, fast enough to follow Rafe’s steps. A faint hum of crickets began to rise in the distance. 

A modest building tucked near the tree line, far from the main house came into view, “That’s the ranch hand’s quarters,” Rafe explained, “You won’t need to be over there, it’s no place for a woman.” 

The sun continued to hang lower as you walked, casting a golden hue over the land. Rafe led you further into the sprawling escape, pointing out different landmarks, “This land’s been my family’s for generations. But my Dad was the one who made it what it was today. It’s very important to me. This land and all the hard work that’s put into it.” 

“My dad’s tough on me but it’s his legacy, you know? It’s more than just making money or raising cattle. I don’t know, I just want to protect what I have. Make sure my kids and my grandkids have it, ya' know?”

He didn’t look for your understanding, his words genuine, but the look on his face was guarded. He paused, his jaw tightening slightly, “You don’t to get to be part of something big and not feel like you’ve got to give everything you have to it.”

“What if…” Your voice trailed as you tried to collect your thoughts, “How do I know it’s something I want to be apart of?” 

“As my wife, you’d stand beside me. You’d build with me. Raise our children. Make a home. You’d make everything that I’m working towards, worth it. That’s a life with purpose, yeah?” 

As he spoke, his voice deep and steady, you found yourself drawn to the way his features seemed to soften, despite the intensity of his words. Those blue eyes were focused on you with an intensity that made your throat go dry. 

He stood taller now, the weight of his words pressed in on you and you could see the full picture he was painting. It wasn’t just the land. It was you. It was him. It was a family. 

“Yeah,” You agreed, the word leaving your lips before you could stop it. Your gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to his lips. They were slightly parted, the edge of his mouth curling just a bit as he spoke, and for a moment, you forgot where you were.

“Yeah,” Rafe agreed, a knowing look on his face, and his hand found the small of your back, “I owe you something, don’t I?”

“Owe me?” Your voice faltered. What was he talking about? 

Rafe didn’t answer right away. Instead, he simply pulled you forward, his hand firm against your back as he guided you through the tall grass. You didn’t have time to question him before the two of you reached a secluded barn, tall and clay-colored, tucked far away from the main house. The air smelled faintly of hay and wood, the earthy scent of the ranch settling around you. But you barely had time to take in your surroundings before Rafe was pulling you into him. His hand slid to the back of your neck, drawing you closer, until his lips were on yours. 

The kiss Rafe Cameron had promised you. 

All those thoughts you had about the land, the future, everything he’d said, it all slipped away. 

Someone, something, had overtaken you. Something ached inside of you, a part of your very being that had never been satisfied. You felt like an animal, desperate, grabbing at Rafe’s shirt, wanting him closer. He was already pressed tightly against you but deep down you wanted more. 

His lips weren’t as gentle as you remembered, they enveloped your mouth, his tongue tasting you, his arms keeping you where he wanted as he explored you.Without warning, he tugged you into an empty stall, the scent of hay and leather thick in the air. His hands were at the edges of your jacket now, pulling it open, his fingers brushing against your skin as the cool air of the barn nipped at your exposed flesh. 

A startled yelp escaped your lips as you felt his hands bunching up your skirt, the fabric sliding higher until it was gathered above your hips. Your eyes flew open, but Rafe was relentless, his mouth still claiming yours with fervent, unyielding kisses. You didn’t know exactly how babies were made but you had a feeling you were getting closer than you’d ever had before. Before you could process it, Rafe lifted you effortlessly, his hands sliding to cup your bottom as he held you tightly against him. Part of you began to panic. 

Then, with deliberate care, he laid you down. not on the rough ground but on his jacket, which was spread beneath you. Darkened eyes met your panicked ones. This was much more than a kiss. Although you’d enjoyed that part of the exchange, you weren’t sure you wanted more, “Rafe,” You whispered, your voice uncertain, as he moved his mouth from your lips to the sides of your mouth. Your mind raced, trying to keep up with the whirlwind of sensations. You pushed at his chest and felt you were pushing against a boulder. There would know way to get from underneath him, even if you tried, “Are… you gonna put a baby in me?”

He paused, lifting his head to look you in the eye and you had to remind yourself to breathe in that moment, “Jesus Christ. You’re something else, you know that?” Rafe grinned and some of your uncertainty went away. His reaction made the moment feel more lighthearted, like there wasn’t a boundary being crossed, like his intentions were innocent.

“I like the kissing,” You admitted, “It feels good b-but I’m scared–”

Rafe shushed you, peppering gentle kisses along your jawline, until he reached the side of your neck. Your thighs clenched tightly, your head tilted back, and you couldn’t control your moaning. Rafe spread your legs with his own, his jeans brushing against the smoothness of your thighs. He pressed his lower half into you and you felt something as hard as a rock, rubbing against your panties. It was then, your core started to feel like it was on fire. 

“Don’t be scared, it’ll just hurt for a moment,” Rafe spoke against your skin, huskily, his voice almost sounding like he was in pain, “You’re just gonna lay still for me, I need you to help me to take care of something.”

“Hurt?” You questioned, your mind hanging on that word. Then you thought back to your question. He hadn’t really answered. 

He seemed to ignore you again, his mouth moving lower on your body. He pulled your shirt down, and as your breasts spilled from their constraints, he left kisses on your nipples. Your head tilted back again when he took one of your nipples fully into his mouth, “Rafe,” You whispered but the sound of his name only seem to push him further. His fingers traced the edge of your panties before he slipped his fingers inside, brushing over your folds. You were wet down there, you realized, and mostly out of embarrassment, you started to pull away, “Please don’t touch me there.” 

You watched his pupils dilate as he stared down at you intently. He kept one hand in your underwear and wrapped his other around your throat, quickly, as if his body was reacting instinctively to your defiance. 

“Don’t tell me that,” Rafe said, almost growling, and your hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to push away his hand as you struggled to breathe, “I have to touch ya' here, darlin’. I’m gonna be your husband. This belongs to me, understand?” 

Your eyes widened as he rubbed circles over your sensitive skin. Your hips bucked in reaction and you silenced your moans, knowing you only had so much air to breathe, “Say you understand. Say yes.” 

You nodded your head quickly, “Yes,” You whispered. 

You were grateful when he loosed his grip around your throat, “It’s a good thing you’re wet. Nothing to be ashamed of. Just means this is what your body wants, baby. You already want to make me happy.” 

You weren’t quite sure at what moment your body decided to freeze. Your nerves were overwhelmed, of course, and it seemed like you’d come out less scathed from the situation if you did as Rafe said. You could stay still and take it. There was something happening with Rafe you didn’t understand but he was acting as though he needed something and you were only one who could provide it. You could stay still and take it if it would make him happy, right? It’s a good thing to make other people happy. 

You focused on the kisses on your lips, the way his soft mouth moved methodically over yours. The faint jangle of metal pulled you back to the moment, a sound you barely registered until you felt the press of something impossibly hard, slowly pushing against a place you hadn’t realized could take him. His manhood, you assumed, what made him different from you. It hurt like he said it would but not for just a moment. Were all manhoods this size? This is what your body really wants? 

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing despite the edge of strain. His hand brushed over your trembling thigh, steadying you as your body tried to accommodate him. “You’re okay. I promise.”

He started to rock into you once you felt completely full to the brim. Initially, it felt even worse than him pushing all the way inside you. Tears fell and your breath grew rapid, “It hurts,” You whimpered, “It really hurts.”

“It’s okay,” He said, maintaining his pace, “You’re okay, darlin’. You’re doing great. It’s just your first time. Gotta get used to me, that's all.” 

“Are-are you putting a baby in me, Rafe?” You asked, your voice an innocent whisper. His grip on you tightened as his rhythm grew more deliberate, his words spilling out in a low growl.

“Fuck yes, darlin’,” he said, his voice thick with unrestrained desire. “I’m gonna put a baby in you.”

His hands, his words, the pain between your legs that was slowly turning to pleasure, it made you dizzy, and you couldn’t keep track of your thoughts. You belonged to him? A baby? It didn’t make sense, but part of you felt comforted by the intensity of him. You trusted he knew more. Everything’s okay. You were okay. It felt like something you were supposed to be, so you let go and let him have you.

a/n: i only tag people who reblog the fic AND let me know their thoughts, thank you :)

[idiopathicsmile]

this happened my senior year of high school.

i had recently gotten into my dream school (which was also the only school i applied to; kids, don't be like me) and was feeling kind of buoyed. so buoyed, in fact, that when the topic of my dream school came up and a boy i'd never met before (he was cute, which will unfortunately be relevant) expressed his interest in going to the same school, i said, "sure, you should apply, why not?"

to which he expressed his chief concern, which was that his ACT score was pretty bad. (for those of you who didn't have to take the ACT, it's a standardized test used for college admissions in parts of the US).

he then told me his ACT score.

it was not good

but as i said, i was buoyed

and as i said, he was cute

so i cheerfully told him, "hey, you could still have a shot. i mean, i got in, so how hard could it be?"

and he replied, "yeah, but you're, you know, a girl."

at which point, of course, about nine things happened in my head simultaneously. i hesitate to describe all of them, like, can you render in words the force of an explosion by naming each individual piece of debris?

yes, i did instantly downgrade his appeal from "cute" to "oh god not in a million years"

this was during the end of affirmative action at the school in question which i think(?) was what he was referring to???

except of course there was never affirmative action for the category "girl" and if anything there might have been a slight tilt towards accepting boys bc they're the ones colleges historically have a harder time getting

but jesus, how rude

"you know" is the part that actually gets me; he was tacitly telling me to sign off on my own supposed unfair advantage

what a mindframe with which to move through the world, like i can't stress enough that i had never met this dude before in my life so why would he just ASSUME the only way i could've gotten in was by leveraging my sex

and yes, mixed in with my shock was some awareness, which would only be sharpened by the four years of liberal arts education i was about to receive, that my shock was itself a privilege, that most people who get accused of being diversity hires or whatever live in a world in which they are always kind of tensed and waiting for it

ever get so angry you feel like lasers are gonna start shooting out of your eyeballs?

ever know, to the core of your soul, that if you express an eyelash of the anger you're feeling, you are gonna lose the other person in your next breath, and he'll just walk away shrugging "wow what a bitch"?

anyway, what i said was, "well, that's probably not why i got in. probably i got in because—"

at which point i told him my ACT score

and look, i think we can probably all agree that the whole notion of assessing someone's college readiness through a standardized test is, at best, a waste of fucking time and at worst, a racist and classist exercise in which only the privileged can access the resources necessary to pass the damn test in the first place

(i certainly agree)

but while it is in no way whatsoever a measure of a person's intelligence or other college-ready skills, i can and will absolutely kick a standardized test's ass.

my ACT score was a full ten points higher than his

if you took the SAT or another test like it, that might not sound like much, but bear in mind: the ACT is only out of 36

like, you do the math (i won't because i'm not being tested)

i don't remember what he said then. i suspect not much.

"which is bullshit," i said, because it was and is. i guess we all agreed because that is the end of the memory.

anyway, the moral of the story is: before you make that self-deprecating comment, always remember, you're giving your audience the option of agreeing with you.

[endofthelinegang]

Hiiiiii! What about Frank x Reader set in the current DDBA times where they’re seeing each other for the first time in a WHILE. Like they had some sort of romantic tension back in the Daredevil season 2 days, but nothing ever came out of it and Frank went on one of his disappearing spells and she never heard from him again. Angsty smut? Or fluff? Or all 🤣 I have been deprived of seeing this man on my screen for too long and now I’m feral lol

hello my loveeee i left the smut out but left room incase we wanted a pt2 you let me know bc ur the boss of this one.

It had been years.

Not days. Not months. Years since you’d seen Frank Castle.

And now? He was standing right in front of you.

Looking older, looking rougher—still built like a goddamn wall, still carrying that same weight in his eyes, like the whole world had never stopped resting heavy on his shoulders. His hair was a little shorter, his beard more grown in, and there were new scars—ones you didn’t recognize, slashed across his knuckles, his jaw.

But his eyes? Those were the same.

Dark, searching. Eating up every inch of you like he was trying to memorize something he thought he’d never see again.

Your breath was caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat, chest tight as you forced yourself to swallow down the years of questions, of anger, of ache. He had disappeared—without warning, without a word, without anything but the memory of his rough hands and his rare, quiet laughs and the way he used to look at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

And now he was here. Now he had the audacity to stand in front of you, like the years he’d been gone were just a blink, like he could step back into your life without shattering something inside you all over again.

Frank’s jaw flexed. “You gonna say something?”

His voice—God, his voice. That same gravel, that same quiet weight. But there was something else, too. Something hesitant.

Like maybe he wasn’t sure you would say something. Like maybe he thought you’d just turn and walk away.

You should.

But you didn’t.

Instead, your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails pressing hard into your palms. “You have some fucking nerve.”

Frank didn’t flinch. Didn’t look surprised. Didn’t do anything but stand there, watching you with that same quiet intensity.

You took a step forward. “You left.” Another step. “No calls. No messages. Not even a goddamn whisper that you were still alive.” Your voice shook, but you didn’t stop. “And now you think you can just—”

You stopped short, just inches from him now, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, close enough to see the exact way his chest rose and fell, the slight clench of his jaw.

He didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. But his fingers twitched at his sides, like maybe he wanted to reach out.

Like maybe he knew he shouldn’t.

“Didn’t think you wanted to hear from me.”

Your throat tightened. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Frank exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. His jaw flexed again, and for a second—for a single second—you thought maybe he’d close the distance between you. Thought maybe he’d reach for you like he used to, like he almost had all those years ago, before everything had crumbled around him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just murmured, “I never wanted to leave.”

You swallowed, hard, against the lump in your throat. Against the way something raw and stupid cracked open in your chest. “But you did.”

Frank’s lips pressed together, his eyes dragging over your face like he was searching for something—something he wasn’t sure he still had the right to look for. And then, finally, his voice dropped lower, rougher.

“I know.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and buzzing, both of you standing there, staring at each other like you were trying to figure out what the hell to do next.

Then, without thinking, you reached out. Just a little. Just enough that your fingers brushed against his wrist—barely, just a ghost of contact—but even that was enough to make something in his entire body go still.

And then, slowly, his hand turned—palm up, rough fingers brushing against yours, just enough pressure that you could feel it all the way down to your bones.

Like maybe, just maybe, he’d been waiting for you to touch him first.

Like maybe he wasn’t sure you still would.

Your fingers curled slightly against his. Testing. Teasing. And when he didn’t pull away, when his breath hitched ever so slightly—

You yanked him forward and kissed him like he owed you the world.

And Frank—

Frank let you.

No hesitation, no second-guessing, just his hands gripping your waist, his breath sharp against your lips, and the unmistakable sound of something breaking between you.

Something that had been waiting to shatter for years.

His hands were rough, big and unyielding as they spread across your back, dragging you closer until your body was flush against his, chest to chest, breath mingling. The sheer heat of him made your head spin, made something low in your stomach tighten.

You barely had time to take a breath before his mouth was on yours again, deeper this time, rougher. His hands found your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp, and that—that little sound—made him groan, low and deep, like it had been locked inside him for too long.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging, desperate, and he growled—actually growled—before shoving you back until your spine hit the wall. His body caged yours in, all heat and tension and something dangerous curling in the space between you.

“You gonna let me?” he muttered against your lips, his voice wrecked, his forehead pressing to yours.

Let him what? Ruin you? Wreck every part of you that had missed him all these years? Leave you breathless and aching and unable to think about anything but him?

You exhaled sharply. “You better.”

Frank’s control snapped.

His hands grabbed your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the wall. His mouth was on your throat, your collarbone, his breath hot and uneven as he whispered things against your skin that you’d never let yourself dream about. His teeth scraped, just slightly, just enough to send a shudder straight down your spine.

But then—

He stopped.

Breath heaving, forehead still resting against yours, fingers flexing against your hips, like he was fighting himself.

“I shouldn’t,” he muttered, voice strained.

Your nails bit into his shoulders. “But you want to.”

His laugh was wrecked, almost bitter. “Yeah.”

You swallowed, heart hammering. “Then don’t stop.”

Frank exhaled sharply, eyes snapping up to yours, something wild and unhinged in them now.

And then, just like that—

He didn’t.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Just normally reading fics as one does in a normal manner very normally in a normal way with a normal look on my face and a normal grip on my phone on a normal normal day

[...] the glasses rattling with every thump of the shitty punk bands drummer.

First of all I'm a drummer fucker

Everyone was well aware of the fact that dating a non-Slytherin was off the table, as far as your family was concerned.

Ok but that's weird

Little did they know you were sporting a bite mark from a certain red-headed Gryffindor just below the waistline of your skirt.

AND THAT'S INSNAE

IT GIRL SHIT

You rolled your eyes. “Not even worth talking about, let alone dating”

HAHAHAHAH SHES A CERTIFIED HATER AND WE LOVE TO SEE IT. 👏IT👏GIRL👏SHIT💅

“But they are pretty,” Talia argued. “And that's all they really need to be, anyways.”

And silent. Don't forget silent

“They are unreasonably tall,” Sophia added. “And that will always make a guy hotter.”

🗣️ME🗣️AND🗣️MY🗣️UNNECESSARILY🗣️TALL🗣️MAN🗣️AGENDA🗣️

As if Devi manifested them, Fred and George sauntered into the Three Broomsticks, with Lee, Ron, Harry and Seamus on their heels.

OH TO MANIFEST GEORGE WEASLEY INTO EXISTENCE 🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️PSPSPSPPSPSLSSL HERE PRETTY BOY ✨✨✨✨✨ COME HERE I HAVE CAKE 🎂

[...] his hair tousled in that devil-may-care, thoroughly kissed way he looked after you got your fangs into him.

STUNNING VIVID AMAZING INCREDIBLE I SEE IT IT MAKES MY INSIDES WARM WHAT THE FUCK

But then, Angelina Johnson swept in, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him over to the couches where her and her friends were.

😀oh💔hi😀angelina💔how😀are💔you😀tonight💔aha😀ahaha💔oh😀what💔me😀 jealous💔aha😀of💔who😀jealous💔of🫵you🫵aha😀why💔would😀i💔aha😀

You wanted desperately to ditch your friends and curl up in a booth with him, maybe rent one of the private lounges for a bit…

SPEND DADDYS MONEY WHATS THE POINT OF BEING RICH IF YOU CANT SPEND IT ON THINGS YOU WANTTT AND YOU AND ME GIRL WE WANT HIM LIKE AWOOOGA

“We'll be over there, y/n,” Talia said, pointing at a table across the room while ushering Devi out of the booth, Sophia following them.

😦😦😦😦😦 they really out here saying they're her friends and they just fucking LEFT woowwwwwwwwwwwwwWWWWWW WWOWWWWWW

He slid into the booth and you scooched away, refusing to look him in the eye, lest you cave to his guilty expression. “I'm not bullshitting you. I would never go to father behind your back, I swear.”

): my boy I wanna believe him )))):

“Enough!” George snapped, directly behind you, his brawny arm solid and comforting around your waist. He released you the next second, though, taking a half-step away. Fred was there the next second, prying Ron out of the Theo's grip while Harry got between Draco and Lee.

Backshots? Rn? Skirt up belly down... Fred can join

Ron lunged towards the two of you, fist cocked back to hit Draco, but George jumped in the middle, catching Ron's fist and shoving him back a step.

CYANIDE UNCAPPED FROM MY TOP MOLAR?

George snatched Theo up by the collar, dragging him up onto his tiptoes and shaking him. “Not another word, Nott,” he warned.

he's so barbie

HE HAS NOT BUSINESS BEING SO FUCKING HOT MY PANTIES WILL NOT SURVIVE THIS REBLOG IM SOAKED

You placed a hand on George's chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath his ribs, and nudged him back.

Same George. But between her (my) legs. I need heroin

They all scoffed, grumbling about how you weren't the boss of them while still gathering their things. You risked a glance at George, and the proud gleam in his eye made your knees weaken.

Arsenic in my guts because I cant have george

“Go on, then. The princess has spoken,” Fred teased, waving them away, grinning when Draco flashed him a vicious glare.

FRED MY BELOVED CHAOS PROPONENT LEMME SMOOCH YOU

“Saw something you liked?” Fred asked, and you could practically hear the waggle in his eyebrows.

THE TWINEPATHY IS TWINEPATHYING I LOVEEE THEMMMMM GRRRRRRRRRRR CHEEKY CHEEKY

“Just a water and a room, please,” you asked, sliding some coins across the table.

🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑FATHER DONT NEED TO HEAR BOUT DIS

George’s fist tightened against your scalp, the prickle of pain making you gasp as he leaned in closer. “I'll call Lee back here then, see if he can wrangle you half as well as I do,” he purred, his hand on your waist sliding down between your legs, rucking up the little dress you wore. His fingers grazed the swell of your aching cunt, discovering the honey soaking through your underwear, and loosed a low chuckle. “Someone else get you this wet, love?” he cooed, kissing along your jaw while you melted like putty.

PROTECTIVE JEALOUS HAIR PULLING MANHANDLING TEASING GINGER WOW OK 👍 RAIL ME

George's eyes darkened. “Something that would send me to Azkaban for life, probably,” he said, voice pitching lower, the roughness of it making you shiver. “I'm not usually quick to anger, but with you…” He sighed, resting his forehead against yours.

OK AHAH I HAVE TO SAY TUMBLR RELOADED AND I WAS NEARLY DONE REBLOGGING BUT I WENT BACK AND GOT ALL (?) THE TEXT I LOST FROM THE RELOAD FUCK YOU TUMBLR FR. also I don't remember what I had to say to this anymore 😭 SMTH smth rail me ig

He tossed you up onto the counter, belt clinking against the ceramic as he undid it. “M’sorry, baby. Can't wait,” he muttered into your hair, spreading your knees apart with his hips.

BITING MY FIST THE VISUALLLLL NAY THE AURAL EXPERIENCE IS 🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪😝😝😝😛😛😛💦💦💦💦💦💦

“S’fucking tight, rattlesnake. Seven hells,” he growled, spreading your thighs wider, pressing deeper.

I identify as a rattlesnake

Pleasure mounted, evident by the puddle collecting beneath you, slick soaking into his jeans.

NO CUZ IM TRYNA STAIN HIS JEANS DAFAQ GEORGE STAIN MY GENES CHALLENGE

Lips found yours again, parting, taking, the sloppiness of it dragging you closer and closer to oblivion. Quick fingers and deep, deliberate thrusts hitting every mark, every nerve. It was inevitable, hunting you, chasing you down like prey.

BRUHHHH SO VIVID SO VISCERAL SO WELL WRITTEN CAN TASTE IN MY MOUTH ITS SO GOOD ALLIE I CANT SAY ANYTHING THAN SAY THAT ITS SO GOOD THE PREY ANALOGY IS INSANE

You shattered, a dying star, eclipsed entirely by bliss.

OKAY SHAKESPEARE I SEE YOU WHATTTTT

This thing with you was fleeting—a strike of lightning. A shooting star. And soon, it would have to end. He couldn't bring you home, couldn't get a flat with you—

): runaway. ALSO JUST SO GOOD BEAUTIFUL WELL WRITTEN AMAZING DESCRIPTIONS

Tears burned behind his eyes, but he pushed through them in favor of kissing you again, crowding you back against the shower wall. Focused on the heat of your skin, the slide of your limbs around his, your tongue on his throat, and let worries of tomorrow wash away.

GEORGE CRYINF??? BRB

(this is why Tumblr reloaded I made this stupid ass meme. worth it)

“Two households, both alike in dignity,

NAHHH NOT ROMEO AND JULIET. NOT GEORGE ORATING IT. NOT SHAKESPEARE QUOTING HERSELF. INSANE WORK

The way Umbridge was looking at him, all arrogance and snobbery. Like she knew something he didn't…

Have absolutely no idea where this fic is headed cos I remember nothing of the films BUT THE UMBRIDGE PTSD NEVER DIES. I'm a bit late to reading cos my brain won't work and I hate it for it cos WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DIDNT WANT TO READ THIS ARE YOU INSANE need to read your bill fic I just CANT IM INSANE

A Madness Most Discreet p.3 | G.W.

feat George Weasley x Malfoy!reader

summary: after a brawl at the Three Broomsticks, you and George steal away for a night of romance without the specter of being caught looming over you. however, when you return to Hogwarts in the morning, you find that things have taken a turn for the worse.

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, protective!George, fighting, drinking, Draco is an asshole, blood prejudice and classism, internal angst, some fluff, Umbridge joins the chat

series navigation | part one | part two | masterlist | divider by @roseraris

Reader's POV

The Three Broomsticks was slammed, damn near packed to rafters with students. Endless trays of butterbeer and whiskey flew over your head to sate the crowds debauched appetites, the glasses rattling with every thump of the shitty punk bands drummer.

You were crammed into a corner booth, sipping on a cocktail you had to teach the bartender how to make, with three of your friends, pretending to care about their relationship drama and the latest Slytherin gossip.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Talia asked, placing a hand over yours to get your attention.

“Not at the moment,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your drink. “I'm finding most Slytherin boys are rather…dull.”

They all nodded sympathetically.

“Well, what about non-Slytherin’s?” Devi asked, leaning in conspiratorially. Everyone was well aware of the fact that dating a non-Slytherin was off the table, as far as your family was concerned.

Little did they know you were sporting a bite mark from a certain red-headed Gryffindor just below the waistline of your skirt.

You rolled your eyes. “Not even worth talking about, let alone dating” you drawled. “Soph, how are things with that Ravenclaw?” You asked, turning the conversation away from you.

“Ugh, I ended that. They were way too chatty,” Sophie laughed, before rambling for about fifteen minutes about why she thought they were too chatty.

You finished your drink and flagged down the waitress for another. “Make it a double,” you said, sliding her an extra galleon. You'd need all the help you could get to survive this evening.

“Who do you think is the hottest Slytherin?” Devi asked.

“If one of you says my brother, I swear to Salazar—” You and Draco hadn't spoken in days, not since the Howler incident, and the last thing you wanted to do was listen to your friends drool over how hot he was.

“No, no!” Devi giggled. “What about Blaise, though?”

“Oh, or Theo!”

“Dull,” you reiterated, laughing along with them. “Theo’s about as toxic as he is tall, and Blaise is so far up his own ass, he can't see the sun.”

“But they are pretty,” Talia argued. “And that's all they really need to be, anyways.”

You chuckled. “Very true.”

“What about Gryffindor?” Sophia asked.

Devi chewed her lip, then—”Okay, okay, don't laugh, but I think the Weasley twins are gorgeous.”

You about choked on your fresh drink. “The Weasley's?” You asked, putting as much incredulity into your voice as you could.

“I know, I know. But George is like—” Devi fanned herself.

“They are unreasonably tall,” Sophia added. “And that will always make a guy hotter.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, look!” Talia squeaked, pointing at the door.

As if Devi manifested them, Fred and George sauntered into the Three Broomsticks, with Lee, Ron, Harry and Seamus on their heels. And of course, George looked damn near sinful in his light wash jeans and rugby jersey, his hair tousled in that devil-may-care, thoroughly kissed way he looked after you got your fangs into him.

Merlin, you saw him yesterday, you needed to get a grip.

His eyes snagged on yours across the room, a spark igniting that you could see even in the dim and dusty tavern. But then, Angelina Johnson swept in, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him over to the couches where her and her friends were.

You didn't have a problem with Angelina, you shared Magical Runes together, and she always struck you as plucky and clever, two traits you liked very much in a woman. But disquiet pooled in your stomach when George smiled down her, saying something you couldn't make out while he graciously greeted her friends.

It was ridiculous, though, because you and George weren't official. You couldn't be official—no, wait, you didn't want to be official. Right? You didn't want a relationship, you wanted to have fun. And you were.

Things with George had been lots of fun. And that was all it needed to be. Fun.

“Ugh, that Johnson girl is going to get him,” Devi scoffed, offended by the very insinuation, as if she’d have a chance either way.

“Angelina’s not so bad,” you said without thinking.

Your friends all stared at you.

“Rubbish Quidditch player though,” you added quickly, and they seemed to relax, sliding into gossip about the Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin this weekend.

Angelina was far from a rubbish Quidditch player, but you felt compelled to divert the situation, even if the comment sat like a rock in your stomach.

Your focus turned back to George while your friends dithered, and you noticed he was moving away from Angelina, rather than sitting down like you'd expected. He was shaking his head, mouth turned down apologetically, and your heart gave a little flip.

Was he rejecting her?

His dark eyes flicked to you again, skating over your body, the bare skin of your legs, and a now familiar warmth kicked up in the belly. Even without words or touches, George always managed to make you melt.

You knew he only had eyes for you, and it settled the passing quake in your soul.

He returned to his friends, having to shout over the crowd to order a beer. You smiled to yourself, unable to stop the bloom of affection his voice conjured.

Another hour passed, the two of you on separate sides of the stuffy tavern, periodically catching each other's eye through the haze of pipe smoke. You wanted desperately to ditch your friends and curl up in a booth with him, maybe rent one of the private lounges for a bit…

The tavern doors swung open, and your improved mood immediately soured once more.

Draco came traipsing in with Blaise, Theo, and Pansy, smug as a peacock. You sunk further down into your booth, trying to hide behind Sophia, but of course, Draco spotted you.

He made a beeline straight towards you, pushing through the crowd without care.

“We'll be over there, y/n,” Talia said, pointing at a table across the room while ushering Devi out of the booth, Sophia following them.

“No, wait—shit.” So much for friends.

“I thought you were at the castle?” Draco asked, bracing his hands on the table and the back of the booth. Caging you in.

“I am, obviously,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink. It tasted bitter, watery, but the booze still burned enough to work.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He pressed, sliding your drink away from you.

You scoffed. “Maybe because you're a controlling arse?” You yanked your drink back, liquor sloshing over the rim.

“I'm not—” he sighed. “Okay, I am. But I had nothing to do with that Howler.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don't you have bullshit to peddle elsewhere?”

He slid into the booth and you scooched away, refusing to look him in the eye, lest you cave to his guilty expression. “I'm not bullshitting you. I would never go to father behind your back, I swear.”

Draco had always been a shit liar, especially when it came to you. Sincerity shone through his pale eyes. You hated it, but only because it meant you had been wrong.

“You know he'd blame me for your discretion, so why would I rat?” Draco added, and you knew he was right. Draco always took the fall for your missteps, no matter how you pleaded with your father.

It was Draco's job to protect you, so any failing on your part was ultimately his.

“I know,” you murmured, placing a hand over his. An unspoken apology. Malfoy's didn't apologize.

“You know why I didn't get a Howler too?” He asked.

You shook your head.

He leaned forward, ensuring he wasn't overheard. “I went home with the Vanishing Cabinet, got the flogging in person the day before.”

You gasped, releasing his hand to cover your mouth. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“I thought he'd leave it at that. Didn't want you to worry. But then he sent the Howler…” he mumbled, stealing a swallow of your drink, then screwed up his face in disgust. “That's bloody awful.”

“So, who snitched?” You asked, glancing sidelong at his friends and a few Slytherin’s clustered by the bar they were too young to drink at.

Draco shrugged. “Snape, I reckon. Maybe another student.”

Snape. That's who George accused as well.

“Why would Snape do that?”

“Because he's a miserable fuck trying to get father to trust him,” Draco replied. “Same reason anyone does anything to us.” A bitterness edged his tone, and a frown tugged at the corners of your lips.

When did he start looking so…weary?

“Are you alright?” You asked.

He nodded. “Just couldn't stand having you hate me too.”

“Oi, fucking watch it, Weasley!” Theo barked, wrenching you and Draco from your conversation. “They don't teach respect in the gutter?”

Ron was standing a few feet from Draco's friends, cheeks red with fury. “Fucking lightweight, gets knocked by sodding spring breeze—”

“More like a fucking golem, bloody stupid oaf—”

Ron swung, fist coming hard and fast, but Theo managed to duck under it, driving his shoulder into Ron's guts.

Draco was up in a flash, catching Lee before he could intervene and shoving him back. “How about you mind your fucking business, Jordan? Wouldn't want your jaw too mangled to announce my fucking victory this weekend—”

You jumped up, rushing to try and separate Theo and Ron, who were trading punches like playing cards, but someone caught you around the middle, hauling you back a split second before you got caught with a wayward swipe. So close you felt the air bending around Theo's fist caress your face.

“Enough!” George snapped, directly behind you, his brawny arm solid and comforting around your waist. He released you the next second, though, taking a half-step away. Fred was there the next second, prying Ron out of the Theo's grip while Harry got between Draco and Lee.

You grabbed Draco as soon as Lee had his hands off of him, wrapping your arm around his to keep him from lunging again. “Stop it, D,” you hissed in his ear. “The last thing we need is the Aurors telling father—”

Draco was huffing, anger rolling off him in pungent waves. “Wouldn't be a fucking problem if the boors would just stay in their place,” he spit, pointing a finger in Ron’s face, his Malfoy signet ring flashing in the candlelight.

You gasped. “Draco!—”

Ron lunged towards the two of you, fist cocked back to hit Draco, but George jumped in the middle, catching Ron's fist and shoving him back a step.

“I said enough,” he growled, throwing a glare back at Draco. You'd never seen George so serious, something militant and snarling possessing your sweet Georgie.

“What's the matter Weasley? Can't stand to see your little brother get his ass handed to him?” Theo taunted.

“Ron could snap your scrawny ass like a twig,” you shot back.

“Oi, fuck you. Birds stay out of it—”

George snatched Theo up by the collar, dragging him up onto his tiptoes and shaking him. “Not another word, Nott,” he warned.

Merlin, you knew George was protective, but this…he looked prepared to rip Theo’s throat out with his teeth.

“Okay, okay, let's just calm down. We're not fucking children,” you said, moving away from Draco to get between George and Theo. You placed a hand on George's chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath his ribs, and nudged him back.

Reluctantly, he released Theo, stepping back to stand beside his twin, hackles still raised, chest rising and falling quickly.

Theo opened his mouth to say something else, but your warning glare had him cracking his jaw shut.

“It's over. Draco, take your friends home,” you said, channeling every bit of your mother's authority.

Draco scowled. “You can't—”

“Go. Potter, take Ron back,” you ordered. “You bairns are to young to drink anyways.”

They all scoffed, grumbling about how you weren't the boss of them while still gathering their things. You risked a glance at George, and the proud gleam in his eye made your knees weaken.

“Go on, then. The princess has spoken,” Fred teased, waving them away, grinning when Draco flashed him a vicious glare.

You rolled your eyes and turned your back on them, bracing your elbows on the bar to hide your trembling. The lingering adrenaline from the fight and the thrill of George's protectiveness made you feel a little lightheaded.

“C’mon, let's get out of here,” Fred said, moving towards the door. Lee and George followed, and your heart sank a bit watching George walk away without a backwards glance.

Then—“Actually, I’m gonna hang back for another drink, but I'll meet up with you later?” You overheard George say, and it took everything in you to not perk up like a dog.

“Saw something you liked?” Fred asked, and you could practically hear the waggle in his eyebrows.

“Something like that,” George chuckled.

You risked a glance up in time to see Fred and Lee walk out of the pub, leaving George by the door, waving them off.

“What'll it be, love?” The bartender asked.

“Just a water and a room, please,” you asked, sliding some coins across the table.

George leaned against the other side of the bar, watching you over the rim of his beer. An impish smirk lifted the corner of his mouth.

“Sure, hun.” They took your coins and grabbed a key from under the bar, passing it to you before fetching you water.

You accepted your water with a smile and headed to the stairs, having to stop yourself from taking them two at a time out of excitement. Butterflies rioted in your stomach, your skin tingling in anticipation.

With shaking hands, you unlocked the door, draping your Slytherin scarf over the handle so he'd know which was yours.

Five minutes later, knuckles rapped softly on the door.

“Come in,” you called, turning back to the mirror while your removed your earrings.

A moment later, George appeared in the mirror behind you, his arms looping around your waist and hauling you back into his chest.

“Must you dress so bloody gorgeous all the time?” He asked, openly ogling you in the mirror, hands smoothing over your curves.

You smirked, setting your earring on the vanity. “Never know who I might need to impress—”

George spun you around, pining your hips to the counter as he leaned over you. Your lower belly liquified at the ferine look in his eye. It seemed his blood was still running hot after the fight.

“Find anyone?” He asked, carding his fingers through your hair to tilt your head back a little further, exposing the tender sweep of your neck.

Something reckless in you wanted to test the waters, draw out this newfound, bestial side of him. “There was this one Gryffindor, handsome, charming, dark curly hair—”

George’s fist tightened against your scalp, the prickle of pain making you gasp as he leaned in closer. “I'll call Lee back here then, see if he can wrangle you half as well as I do,” he purred, his hand on your waist sliding down between your legs, rucking up the little dress you wore. His fingers grazed the swell of your aching cunt, discovering the honey soaking through your underwear, and loosed a low chuckle. “Someone else get you this wet, love?” he cooed, kissing along your jaw while you melted like putty.

“Just a coincidence,” you whispered, breathless when his middle finger passed over your vexed clit, still a bit sore from the day prior.

He hummed, withdrawing his hand and resting it on your thigh, letting you feel the wetness clinging to his fingers. “Just a coincidence, huh?”

You whined, folding immediately at the loss of contact. “You'll think I'm insane,” you admitted, hiding your face in his shoulder.

“Will I, now? Why's that?” He tugged your head back up by the roots of your hair.

“I liked…seeing you…get protective…” you mumbled, averting your eyes.

He tilted his head a bit, looking infuriatingly chuffed with the revelation. “Oh, sweet girl. That fight turn you on?”

“Not the fight, just…you.”

“I see.” He nodded sagely. “Here I thought you'd think I was out of line.”

You shook your head, working your lower lip between your teeth. “What would you have done if Theo’s rogue punch connected?”

George's eyes darkened. “Something that would send me to Azkaban for life, probably,” he said, voice pitching lower, the roughness of it making you shiver. “I'm not usually quick to anger, but with you…” He sighed, resting his forehead against yours.

Your heart surged, pounding frantically in your chest. The world felt silty beneath you, shifting, spreading, on the precipice of being swallowed whole. On the verge of falling.

Careless, you plunged forward, crashing your lips into his. He collapsed into you, his tongue diving between your teeth to devour you. You could taste the beer on his lips, something hoppy and dark, intoxicating, and you pulled him closer, needing more, needing to breath him like air.

“Need you,” you panted, gulps of air sawing through your burning lungs.

He tossed you up onto the counter, belt clinking against the ceramic as he undid it. “M’sorry, baby. Can't wait,” he muttered into your hair, spreading your knees apart with his hips.

Panties tugged to the side, the cold bite of the tile against your fevered skin, the steely hardness of his cock breaching your heat, fullness, fuck, so full.

“George,” you keened, nails scrabbling for purchase on the vanity as he fucked up into you, splitting you down the middle. But the clenched fist of your cunt hampered his progress.

“S’fucking tight, rattlesnake. Seven hells,” he growled, spreading your thighs wider, pressing deeper.

“I can't—shit,” you whimpered, tears collecting on your lower lashes at the brutal stretch.

“You can, pretty. I know you can,” he soothed, palming the side of your face and kissing away an errant tear. “Just need to relax f’me.” His other hand left your thigh, dipping between your bodies. Middle finger brushed your clit, tracing gentle circles around it, and you felt your muscles start to unwind, the stitches of pain dissolving into pleasure.

“Fuck, George,” you moaned, his cock sliding a bit deeper as your walls loosened.

“There you go, thaaat's a good girl. Nice n’ easy,” he hummed, withdrawing his hips before sinking forward again, finding a steady, languid rhythm as he fucked you open. “You feel so good, baby. Perfect little pussy takin’ me so well,” he praised, lips feathering over your pulse.

Pleasure mounted, evident by the puddle collecting beneath you, slick soaking into his jeans. Your body was starting to ignite, a delicious, consuming warmth spreading under your skin that had you singing his praises. Enraptured.

Lips found yours again, parting, taking, the sloppiness of it dragging you closer and closer to oblivion. Quick fingers and deep, deliberate thrusts hitting every mark, every nerve. It was inevitable, hunting you, chasing you down like prey.

No one could fuck you like George could, and you told him so between broken cries.

“Yeah, baby? No one can fuck you like me—fuckin’ made for me,” he groaned, thrusts getting rougher, punishing as the coil in your belly tightened, baring down on him. “Go on, love. Show me how good I make you feel. Come for me—”

You shattered, a dying star, eclipsed entirely by bliss.

“Shit, gonna take me with you—fuck!” A snap of his hips, the slap barely audible over your mewling, and you snatched his soul, greedy cunt milking him for everything he had.

He braced his hands on the counter, trembling with effort of not crushing you while you twitched and spasmed, locked up so tight he could barely withdraw.

“Shh, love—did so good,” he murmured, kissing every bit of skin he could reach while your mind pieces itself back together, bits of soul adrift in a sea of dopamine. “M’sorry—I didn’t—did I hurt you?”

You shook your head as you came back into your body, feeling his cock slide out you with a surge of release. “Didn't hurt me,” you panted, catching his chin and drawing him into an airy kiss, too out of breath for a proper one, but feeling compelled to do it anyways.

“Good,” he exhaled with a relieved smile, pecking your lips again. “How long do we have the room for?” He straightened to grab his wand and clean you both up.

“Tomorrow morning,” you replied, folding your lips to suppress a smile.

His eyes widened, copper brows shooting up. “Sleepover?”

You nodded, chest swelling with giddy elation. “Sleepover.”

George's POV

George managed to coax you into a shower, insisting on washing your body himself with the cheap inn soap just to hear you purr in pleasure, relaxing completely into him. He didn’t know what it was about you, but he wanted to brush your hair, feed you grapes, fan you with one of those big leaves like Cleopatra.

He was down bad.

“I saw you talking with Draco earlier,” he said, massaging away the tension in your shoulders. “Are you guys okay now?” It was clear how much fighting with Draco weighed on you, and George cared more about your happiness than his own distaste for your younger sibling.

You shrugged. “He's says he didn't snitch—” a soft moan slipped past your lips when he dug into a particularly tight knot. “He actually mentioned Snape as a possibility, like you.”

George was glad you couldn't see the face he made. If Draco accused Snape, it was extremely likely that it was actually the Potions Professor.

How much attention has Snape actually been paying to you?

His hands stilled on your shoulders as anxiety slithered under his skin, coiling around his throat. Could Snape know?

You turned to face him, eyes round and tender. “You worry too much,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around his neck, dripping wet skin pressing against his. His anxiety unraveled, bones softening, and bent down towards you like the branches of a willow. Molded his lips to yours.

It wasn't hurried, stolen seconds like the majority of the kisses you shared. Rather, it was languid, loose and messy and indulgent. Lips gliding through warm water, tongues sweeping, tasting, savoring.

He was lightheaded with it, bracing one of his hands on the stone wall behind you, afraid he'd dissolve entirely and wash down the drain. Away from you.

Merlin, how could he ever be away from you?

Then, it dawned on his that this may be the only chance he'll have to do this with you-- spend a quiet night somewhere safe, where he could love you however he wanted without fear of being caught. He could shower with you, sleep in the same bed with you. Such simple mundanities that felt more precious than gold with you.

This thing with you was fleeting—a strike of lightning. A shooting star. And soon, it would have to end. He couldn't bring you home, couldn't get a flat with you—

The thought stole his breath, a pained sound escaping from his throat, and you broke the kiss, pulling back to look at him.

“George?” You caressed his cheek, pushing his soaked hair from his forehead. The sweetest thing. “Love, are you alright?”

He nodded, turning his head into your palm and brushing the delicate skin of your inner wrist, the heel of your palm, with his lips. He didn't trust himself to speak.

“Let's just focus on being here, yeah?” You murmured, able to discern where his mind had taken him. “Just us, just tonight.”

Tears burned behind his eyes, but he pushed through them in favor of kissing you again, crowding you back against the shower wall. Focused on the heat of your skin, the slide of your limbs around his, your tongue on his throat, and let worries of tomorrow wash away.

After a second, equally as intense round, he dried you both off and carried you to bed, your wobbly legs that of a newborn fawn. The bookshelves beside the bed caught his eye, and he wandered over after tucking you in and lighting some candles.

He slid something off the shelf, garnet leather, tattered at the corners, with silver embossing on the cover and spine: Romeo and Juliet.

Normally, he wouldn't reach for Shakespeare, but you made him want to weave sonnets, monologue verbosely on balconies edge—

“How's this?” He asked, turning to show you, and your kiss-bitten lips curled into a sleepy smile.

“Perfect,” you hummed.

He climbed back into the downy bed beside you, your naked body curling against his side, natural as the moonlight caresses the wall. The steady thrum of your heartbeat synchronized with his as you got comfortable, nuzzling into his shoulder.

The book opened with an antiquated crack, pages thin and yellowed with time. He leafed through it until he reached the Prologue, and started to read aloud.

“Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean,

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,

A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life…”

Reader’s POV

When you and George return to the castle the following morning, you part as if complete strangers. Without a backwards glance, without the preamble of a goodbye. George turned towards the Great Hall, you, towards the library. But the loss was an anchor on your heart, raw and sulfuric as freshly carved grief.

Going back to acting like strangers, propping up the charade after the bliss of tearing it down, felt impossible. Insurmountable. Agonizing.

You'd never been more sure that George Weasley was yours and you were his. And what a cruel trick of fate that you could never be together, not without sacrificing everything else.

And even if you were willing to, you knew George wasn't. He would never give up his family, would never disappoint them in that way. And you could never ask him too, not matter how badly you wanted him.

But you couldn't let him go either, too selfish, too desperate, too possessive. A dog with a bone. How could you go back to that world of callousness, of treachery and darkness after being bathed in his light?

You mad either nearly halfway to the library when a commotion rang out, students running down the hall back towards the courtyard at the center of the castle. Like the rush of a river, you were quickly caught up it in, bobbing along until you were spit out at the back of a massive crowd of students and faculty.

Draco's platinum hair caught your attention towards the front, and you forced your way towards him.

“What's going on?” You hissed, tugging at his robes.

He turned, a cruel retort on his tongue until he realized it was you. “Trelawney’s getting canned,” he snickered, ushering you in front of him, his body shielding your from the push of the crowd.

That explained the wailing.

“Why on earth would Dumbledore do that—” but then you noticed the pink-clad Umbridge standing beside the bawling Divination professor and all of her belongings. You had always disliked the puggish woman, with her upturned nose and pressed lips, expensive tweed dyed that horrible, intestinal pink.

In her hand, she held a dismissal order on the Ministry letterhead.

Something was deeply wrong.

You spotted George across the way, standing with his siblings, Harry and Hermione. He edged in front of Ginny, pulling her just slightly behind him as he watched Umbridge chastise poor Trelawney with narrowed eyes. He had Harry by the shoulder, preventing the impulsive boy from running out the professors defense.

He looked…afraid. Fred did too.

George's eyes met yours, softening a bit before they flicked up to Draco, and immediately turned glacial. Hostile. You glanced up and found Draco smiling, and your stomach turned.

McGonagall rushed out, gathering Trelawney in her arms and shushing her.

“Is there something you'd like to say, dear?” Umbridge asked.

“Oh, there are several things I'd like to say,” McGonagall bit.

Draco snickered, and you elbowed him.

Then, the doors burst open behind you, revealing Albus Dumbledore. He strode forward, anger practically radiating off of him.

“Professor McGonagall, might I ask you to escort Sybil back inside?”

The way Umbridge was looking at him, all arrogance and snobbery. Like she knew something he didn't…

Understanding settled heavy on your bones. This was no ordinary sacking—this was an act of war. The war George tried to explain. The war that your family tried to hide from you. The war that the Ministry was in denial of, that you were in denial of.

George had tried to warn you, but it was too late.

The war had officially come to Hogwarts, and you were standing on the wrong side of it.

Thank you for reading!

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[ughsasif]

Im glad u said something about the aaron thing bc my God its never that serious. Niggas talking about “he gonna fuck his career up” is insane 💀

and i fear i'm going to keep saying something because how do you put this man's face on your profile and say you love him but then imply he's a piece of shit who owes you something because he went public with a relationship? girlies, you're clicking way down.

and fuck up his career? the boy just hit 1.9M followers. will probably be 2M before the month is out. he's blasting off.

and while we're on the subject: i can't speak about whether this relationship is real or not bc i don't know them but teyana taylor has a name and brand recognition going back almost two decades. beyonce checks up on her, okay? SHE was the reason aaron was at queen mother's gold party. pretending she's some unwanted and annoying stalker that aaron throws pity likes at and tolerates is the height of delusion and it lets me know why yall are really mad. none of that other bullshit yall keep saying.

this is coming from someone who does not care for that lady. never have. but somebody is gonna have to start telling the truth around this bitch. the way black women are talking about another black woman (who generally hasn't harmed anybody at ALL -- please do not bring up her fight with rihanna bc my girl started that. you can't go low and then get mad about someone smacking you back.) makes my fucking skin crawl.

i was rooting for this man before he even had 100k followers. there was a very small group of us and we watched him climb. we went from pirating british television shows, listening to podcasts, tracking down his voice over work, hell...we used to see him go to events and see who he followed after the events to see what his next project might be (speaking of, yall are kinda late on the raye sightings) -- just because we were so invested in his career. to see so much focus on his dating life to the point where it makes yall talk about him like a dog? it's jarring.

i think everybody needs to get back to what's important: AARON. AARON'S TALENT. nobody cares if you don't like that girl but stop filling that nigga tag up with it. he don't see it but i do and bitch i'm trying to see some nipples. not watch yall circle jerk and pretend yall spilling luzianne sweet tea when it's unsweetened lipton.

[moki-dokie]

Twice, my best friend has crossed a boundary with me. The first time it was unintentional. I made it very clear afterwards. The second time she ignored it.

Both times she was drunk.

And we aren't talking about I had a few drinks drunk. Hers is the I had a few drinks after an entire bottle of whiskey and a few shots for good measure drunk.

I gave her a good telling off. She apologized. She owned up to it. I forgave and life moved on. Water under the bridge.

Today, a couple of months later, she's finally taken the step to go to AA. I couldn't be more proud of her for it. She said that telling off had been eating at her so badly that it managed to break through the bullshit that drives her to drink out of control. And not because I had to get firm with her, but because I did it with the same unconditional love I come at her with everything else, because I treated her as a person, because I was willing to forgive and keep loving her - despite how badly she was triggering my PTSD.

I know a lot of people would have written her off, thrown her out, deemed her as abusive and predatory and whatever other therapy language people love to blithely throw around. Maybe drunk her is those things. But drunk her is a diseased her.

Something people forget about alcoholism is that it is indeed a disease. It can fuck a person up as badly as depression can and can go just as dismissed because it isn't always seen.

Of course, none of us are obligated to forgive transgressions even from a person not of sound mind - but I think a lot of people could do with just a little more patience and a little more kindness. Especially when you know something is wrong with them. sometimes that's all it takes to give someone the push they need in the right direction.

I'm especially jaded about drunks. I'm especially fucked up with PTSD from drunks. There are legitimately few things in this world that actually, authentically, very seriously send me into a terrible horrible bad bad bad place like drunks, because my sole parent was a highly abusive one. Like I'm lucky to be alive today kind of abusive. I tried and I tried and I tried with her, thinking if I just keep trying maybe she'll finally get help. But eventually, I finally realized she never would. Just like she'd never apologize. Or like she'd never even own up to having ever done wrong. So five years ago I cut her out of my life, cold turkey. Which eats at me, because she is mostly disabled and lives alone on a farm in the middle of nowhere with no stable income except some very meager oil royalties that dwindle more each year. I know one day I'm going to get the call I dread the most. And she'll have been alone. And I will feel guilty, probably forever, because that is how she has hardwired me to feel. But it was high time I started protecting myself, so I'm willing to take on feeling guilt forever if it means I can start healing in other ways, which I have.

She is also diseased. She was diseased before I came into this world, though. I don't blame her, nor do I love her less for the things she cannot control. But I do blame her for the things she can, and for all the sober opportunities she's had to simply admit fault and say sorry. I blame her for trying to use my brother to drag me back into her mess. I blame her for all the times I have cried and pleaded with her to get help when she had a clear enough mind to hear me and she's refused.

My best friend needed only a stern talking to and it crushed her to know she had hurt me even a little. My mother refuses to acknowledge the fact she has put my life in jeopardy on multiple occasions and inflicted emotion wounds that will never fully heal.

Alcoholism does not discriminate. It doesn't give a single shit. My best friend is lucky she's only been in the clutches of it for a few years, and that i have a lifetime of experience navigating how to handle drunks like her to have eventually and finally broken through. Both of them, however, I treated with love and kindness until the point I couldn't anymore. For one, that was enough. For the other, she's likely to die alone, having pushed away every friend and family.

You can't change them all, but, idk, I think it's worth trying sometimes. It's worth enduring a little more pain sometimes. It's worth assessing the risk rather than flat out avoiding it sometimes.

I couldn't save my mother, but no one can except herself anymore - and that isn't my fault. I tried for far longer than I ever should have. But I did save my best friend. And if I hadn't tried, I would have felt some of the blame. Because not only is she my friend and I love her, but she is just human like the rest of us and it isn't her fault she's succumbed to the vicious cycle that she was already genetically and societally predisposed to.

There's really no point I'm trying to make to the masses here. Just that this sickness can manifest in wildly different ways. And it's too easily dismissed and too easily enabled and too easily accepted. And that my friend is getting help and she's not going to drink or pill herself into an early grave. And that I'm thankful beyond words for that.

[invinciblevariant]

in your hour of need , i'll be there . . . [ mark / rex ] .

a lovely anon known as "glass" requested a fic of markrex hurt/comfort , and i'm here to deliver ! i really hope you (and those others reading this) enjoy !

synopsis ; a particularly nasty battle with yet another monster attacking earth leaves rex bloodied and bruised . there is nothing new about this , except the person who comes to see him afterwards , which may or may not spark some ... feelings . pairing ; mark x rex . timeline / changes to series ; set toward the beginning of s3 . mark confessed his love for eve , but she rejected him ( and she and amber began dating bC IM THE AUTHOR OF THIS STORY DAMMIT ) . trigger / content warning(s) ; blood , gore mention .

this is such bullshit .

rex knew he was signing up to get his ass kicked when cecil reported of unusually hostile activity in the southern region of chicago . he also suspected that it would be an alien creature , but what he didn't suspect was that this alien would be damn near impossible to take down , even with the rest of the guardians' help .

this is certainly nothing like taking on the flaxans , but fortunately , not like fighting viltrumites , but still , this monster-looking fuck is stronger than it seems .

" can't we call someone else to come help ?! " monster girl yells as she attempts to put the alien in a headlock , getting easily tossed into robot . rex throws explosive after explosive to try and distract it , but it doesn't even react .

then , he realizes something ... not only is this creature strong as all hell , it's also blind .

" hey , guys , i have a - ! "

before rex is able to finish , the creature grabs him and slams him into the wall of a building , almost sending the whole thing down on top of him . as rex is getting back up , it pounces on him and digs its claws into his sides .

the scream he lets out can most likely be heard around the entire world .

after the creature is kicked off him by bulletproof , rex surveys his injuries . fuck , he's not supposed to be able to see his innards ...

after staring for what feels like hours in horror and shock , the world goes black and he collapses against the debris .

rex awakens in a hospital room in the gda's medical facility , his sides bandaged up and an iv drip in his arm . nothing he's not used to at this point .

" man , " he yelps slightly as he hears the voice beside him chuckle , " you look like shit . "

... mark ?? huh ... this is new . he thought for sure that it would be rae sitting beside him , waiting for him to wake up .

oh , god , rex hopes mark can't see the way his face flushes red ... or the raging boner he's starting to get .

" yeah , well , you would know about looking like shit after a fight , wouldn't you ? " he bites back , though there's absolutely no hostility in his tone .

mark laughs at that - dammit , why are there butterflies in his stomach ? - and gets up from the chair , strolling across the small space to stand beside the bed .

" well , " he says , " eve texted to come check up on you since she and amber are looking at apartments across from the college . "

" oh , so you're not here out of concern for your best friend ? you're doing so because my ex-girlfriend and your former unrequited lover told you to ? "

now it's mark's turn for his face to flush red , and he rubs the back of his neck . " n-no , i came because , when i saw the text ... i ... " he looks rex in the eyes . " i was concerned for you ... you'd never been that badly hurt before , and ... i was ... "

rex gets a knowing look on his face before smirking teasingly . " you were that worried about me that you stuck by me the minute you saw the text , weren't you ? "

he swears that he's never seen the shade of red that mark's face turns shortly after that , and he sputters . " sh-shut the hell up , man !! "

" awwwww , " rex continues to tease , reaching over to poke at the viltrumite teen's side , loving the way mark squirms and hides his face in his hands afterward , " you were as concerned as eve would've been . y'know , she would've shut me up by now by kissing m = "

mark's lips pressing deeply against his shut him up , and rex absolutely melts into the gesture . he feels a hand cup his cheek , very much like eve would've done , and mark climbs onto the bed to straddle the injured superhero .

thank fuck for the morphine the gda gives ...

minutes feel like hours before the door swishes open and mark scrambles off of rex's bed , almost tripping over the iv stand . cecil enters the room , seeming oblivious to the position the two men were just in mere moments before , and informs rex that he can leave the hospital in a few days before heading out just as quickly as he came in , talking through his earpiece to some agent .

" don't mention this to anyone , " mark states when he sees the smirk on rex's face , though his tone indicates no seriousness whatsoever .

rex only chuckles and grabs his arm , pulling mark back onto the bed so he can lay beside him .

he's totally telling the rest of the team about this later ...

[kanansdume]

Thank-you lol, I appreciate the faith. In fairness, it wouldn't be that hard to make a better show than the Ahsoka show, it was complete and utter trash from concept to execution.

That being said, I don't know that I would've completely removed her "Anakin issues" as the core of the Ahsoka show. As much as Ahsoka seems to come to the conclusion that she can't save Anakin at the end of Rebels, you could make an EASY argument that she hasn't really made her peace with that and that her history with him and what it MEANS for her that Anakin made these choices would still burden her. Rebels never really focused on it a lot because Ahsoka's not the main character of Rebels, it quite simply isn't her story, and I'd even to some degree say that she got TOO MUCH focus in Rebels (her struggle with the truth about Anakin has next to no real connection with or impact on the true main characters of the story, and it barely even parallels what they're going through until this moment in season 4).

The Ahsoka show made several fatal errors in how it handled this, though, some structural and some thematic. The main structural issue is simply that it got made into the "middle part" of some sort of overarching Mandoverse storyline that never should've existed in the first place, AND got included in the Rebels "Search for Ezra" plot that was likely should've focused more on Sabine than on Ahsoka (and we'll set aside for this post just how badly this show butchered poor Sabine since it isn't relevant to this discussion but OH BOY). Both of these things make it near impossible to truly focus in on Ahsoka's relationship with Anakin in a way that matters or makes sense.

Ahsoka's show SHOULD'VE probably been set some time between Rebels season 4 (or even theoretically Rebels season 2 since that's when Ahsoka actually comes back to) and the epilogue bit with Sabine. Show us HOW Ahsoka grew from that person who's still sort-of lost and defeated and stunned at the revelation of what Anakin became to the wise shaman in white she seems to have become in the epilogue. Show us how she even got off of Malachor in the first place, what kind of crazy bullshit did she have to do to escape the Sith planet, and how did the time she had to have spent on there impact her? Her show should've been an ENTIRELY new story with all new characters for her to interact with and learn from (I MIGHT have made an exception for someone like Barriss whose narrative at this point would kind-of revolve around her betrayal of Ahsoka anyway, and this could tie in quite nicely to what Ahsoka's going through).

The main THEMATIC issue with the Ahsoka show is that she decides at the end of it that none of the bad things Anakin did actually even mattered, because he did them "for love," and it was "meant to be," and she just sets all of that aside to remember him as a "good" master and basically nothing else. This is, PERHAPS, something of a bad faith interpretation of what the show was trying to get across, but... I don't think I'm that far off honestly. It barely even acknowledges the things Anakin did, they barely say anything bad about Anakin at all (the worst ever said about him in this show was Ahsoka saying he was "more dangerous than anyone knew" which is super fucking vague) while constantly eviscerating the Jedi for being weak or failures or elitist assholes who didn't understand anything about how the world or the Force truly worked. Sabine's choice to help set Thrawn free just so she can get Ezra back isn't actually condemned as the selfish thing it actually is, and it's AHSOKA who has to apologize to SABINE for not supporting her later, and Ezra himself is never even allowed to have an opinion on it at all. Given all of the obvious parallels between Sabine's story and Anakin's in this show, it's pretty clear what the show is trying to tell us about Anakin and his choices to me.

But PERSONALLY, I'd have had Ahsoka come closer to the conclusion we saw in the Kenobi show. Some of this depends on where in the timeline you choose to set the narrative. If it's pre-ROTJ still and she doesn't know Anakin's dead yet, she has to just accept that Anakin's evil and chosen to remain that way and there's nothing she can do to change that. She can choose to still remember him fondly and recognize that he'd once been a good person that she loved WHILE ALSO acknowledging he made some unforgivable choices that she can't condone. If it's post-ROTJ, then she has to accept both that Anakin chose to be an evil person AND that he was capable of being saved, but NOT BY HER. Like, consider how that knowledge impacts Ahsoka, Ahsoka who looks at Ezra trying so hard to save a master who sacrificed himself to save others, and realizes that her master is equally incapable of being saved but for the opposite reasons, and then having to hear that Anakin DID change in the end, that he COULD be saved, but he just wouldn't have done it for Ahsoka. And she just has to accept that because he's dead now. There's no changing the choices he made, but even if she chooses to remember the person he once was fondly, I don't think she'd ever truly be able to forgive that he refused to come back for her.

I wanted Ahsoka to LET GO of Anakin, I wanted her to recognize that he left her behind and, as much of an impact as that relationship had on her, she's spent most of her life WITHOUT HIM and that he is not the person who defines who she is now or who she'll be later. I wanted Ahsoka to recognize that Anakin never truly cared about her as much as she cared about him and that she had to just leave him behind in her past. Maybe he was a good master once, maybe some of the things he taught her were still worthwhile, but she's learned so many things since then that have proven to be more helpful and she learned so much from other Jedi both before him and after him that will ultimately allow her to find balance in a way he never did. I wanted Ahsoka to finally BREAK FREE of Anakin. But the Ahsoka show chose instead to yoke her to him instead, to define her by her relationship to him above and beyond literally any other relationships she might have had or will have in the future. Ahsoka deserved better than that, and I'll never forgive this show for doing this to her.

(And then in a second season you could've like brought in the whole concept of her taking on a Padawan and focused in on the whole "child soldier" thing and how spending years at war has impacted her and what that means about what she can pass on to a student, but the primary important relationship in this season would've been REX, and the student FOR DAMN SURE wouldn't have been fucking Sabine Wren. And only once ALL OF THIS was done would I have accepted a Search for Ezra narrative that wasn't even truly ABOUT Ahsoka at all, but about Sabine herself and about discovering this new galaxy.)

I really liked how Ahsoka’s hypocrisy in how she handles the battle with Anakin is later dealt with to give her actual growth in the World Between Worlds episode of season four.

Initially, we have Ahsoka telling off Hera in the season one finale for going after Kanan despite the risk to her crew, naming the message Ezra had sent out as part of the reason why they all needed to LIVE, as symbols of hope. She tells Hera that she has to let Kanan go, leave him for dead, so the rest of the Ghost crew can survive. Of course, Hera ultimately dismisses this and they go save Kanan and Ahsoka ends up showing up to save them all because now that they’ve made this choice, the Rebellion can’t just let them all die and is willing to put in the work to rescue them and bring them into the wider Rebellion.

But it ends up feeling like Ahsoka was just spouting empty platitudes at Hera that she doesn’t necessarily believe or follow herself. She’s following in her Master’s footsteps of using the tried and true “do as I say, not as I do” method of teaching. Because she spends all of season two trying desperately to deny the fact she discovers in the beginning of the season about Anakin having become a Sith. And in the end, she chooses to let herself die with him rather than leave Anakin behind and save herself along with Kanan and Ezra. She has a chance, she COULD escape Anakin, but she chooses not to. Because the guilt she feels for having left the Order (and therefore Anakin) and the part that may or may not have played in Anakin’s choices later are eating at her and consuming her. She lets her attachment to Anakin get the better of her and in doing so, she robs the Rebellion of her skills, her assets, her support. She robs Kanan and Ezra of another Jedi to connect to and seek guidance from.

When Ezra saves her, he just sort-of grabs her from behind, she seems to have no real idea he’s even there until she’s through the portal with him. And while she’s not upset with him for what he’s done, she just seems to refocus on the problem at hand and the mystery literally surrounding them.

Up until they find the portal leading to Kanan’s final moments, and she sees Ezra desperately wanting to save him, too. She sees Ezra consumed in that grief over the loss of his Master, unable to see what she can see from a more objective position. That Kanan made his choice, a choice that saved them all, and Ezra’s desire to save Kanan and remove him from this moment like he did her would go against what Kanan’s sacrifice had been for. It would disrespect everything Kanan had chosen to do in that moment.

And she sees, finally, through having to stop Ezra from saving Kanan, that she can’t save Anakin either.

Because Anakin might have been kind once. He might have cared about people once.

But now, he’s just someone who tried to kill her. Now, he’s a Sith Lord hell bent on terrorizing the galaxy and the Jedi. She can’t save him. Before, she reacted to knowing that by deciding that if she couldn’t save him, then she’d die with him, just to prove that she wouldn’t leave him. Now, she promises Ezra that, even though she has to go back through the portal to her own timeline, she’ll find him. She’s not just going to let herself die with Anakin, she’s not going to let her grief consume her, and she’s going to reconnect with a fellow Jedi who is now, so far as either of them know, completely alone in the galaxy.

I love how watching Ezra overcome his own grief, work past his own selfish desire to save Kanan and recognize why he can’t, accept the choices Kanan made even if he doesn’t like them, allows Ahsoka to accept the truth about Anakin and overcome her own guilt in order to move forward from it. She finally understands the real meaning behind why the Jedi forbade attachments, just like we see Kanan learning the true meaning behind Jedi teachings as HE teaches them to Ezra earlier in the show.

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Detective x GN Culprit! Reader

Read more on webtoon

Should you count yourself lucky or unlucky in this case? You were caught trespassing into your ex's house, trying to set them up as a form of revenge but you slipped and failed horribly. Now you sat in a room with 2 men interrogating you. It was just like the movie you watched, a small room with one very bright lamp hanging above the table. It was blinding, it was hot, and you didn't want to stay here any longer but the detective that was assigned to you seemed to be enjoying this.

Sick freak, you thought to yourself. You could totally see him getting off from pushing all your buttons. He definitely had some sort of god complex drilled in his head if he liked this kind of shit.

The man that stood behind him didn't say any word but it still unnerved you. You occasionally glanced toward him. He was the police officer that caught you in the action. As though the detective could read your mind, or perhaps the way your eyes moved and twitched, he dismissed the other man.

"Give us some space, Maverick. You are scaring them~"

The man frowned at his remark. "I should be here-"

"Are you doubting me right now?"

His tone dropped a few octaves and you felt even more unnerved. The other officer sighed and left without a word. Was it going to help you feel better or not? Maybe the officer did have a point.

"Now." The detective's voice dragged you back into reality. "Like I said, trespassing someone's house is a no-no y'know?"

You've heard him say that for lord how many times and your answers remained the same. This went on until you couldn't stand his repeating questions. And perhaps that was how interrogators work. They questioned you the same questions but delivered them in sentences that sounded different, tricking you into a mess of scrambled words.

And you fell for it.

"Oh! Wait wait wait, something changed! Your testimony changed!"

"...testimony? What...? We are not in a court, quit it-"

"Hmmm, yeah... no. I've seen you around."

Seen you around? The detective showed you a bunch of photos of you. You. In a drug store. In a supermarket. In a forest. In anywhere convenient. Anywhere convenient for him to wove a bullshit of a reasoning.

"Let's see... what were you doing in a drugstore? Trying to get some cough syrup or perhaps... something to drug your ex?"

That's not true. But he didn't give you any second to retort.

"And look at this. Why did you go to the gardening section? Shovel? Saw? What were you trying to get?"

Because you accidentally fucking got into that section for fuck's sake.

"A forest? What? You tried to dig a spot for your ex? Trying to save give them a good spot for their final resting place?"

And that wasn't even true. You were just walking near the forest but you never went inside. You knew that forest would fucking kill you if you got lost mid-way. They said a bastard of a lawyer had owned this forest for his unnamed spouse.

More than all of that, you really wished you could fucking punch the detective, rip that fucking canine tooth of his. The detective chuckled at your face before introducing him, "My name is Stephen. I am a homicide detective."

You didn't want to know all of that. It's not like you fucking care about his name or his role. And that was all until he leaned into you and whispered into your ear.

"It seems like I like you even more now. You might not remember me but I remember you."

... What?

"I know a way to set this all in stone. Once they all know you have a damn narcotic with you, what do you think will happen to you?"

Now he was talking. Now he was serious. Your face pale in comparison to his. Finally an expression he enjoyed getting out of everyone. Shallow breathing, sweat collected on their forehead, and fingernails digging into the back of their hand...

"I am a homicide detective and I was the one who helped you with the murder you committed for your ex 4 years ago."

Now you remember. There was someone who helped you. 4 years ago... you couldn't remember it properly but he was there. He didn't show his face entirely but now that you look into his eyes.

"It was incredible. It was fascinating!" He barked out loud for everyone to hear.

"What do you say? I was truly impressed by your unshaken determination to have everything your way! Such immense love for your ex..."

Don't say it. Don't. You were not even a suspect. Don't tell them. The police will fucking jail you and you might fucking lose your neck. You didn't mean to do it. Your ex was just... getting unbearable. Getting all close to another person...

It was only natural for you to fucking eradicate the pest.

"I don't think you had any bad intentions. You were just trying to reconcile with him right?"

And again, the detective saved you. The stupid look on your face made him so happy that he decided to let you off the hook again. Stephen loved seeing you distressed. He loved playing around with you even if it took him years to see you again. Stephen was a patient man, he could wait for years for the thing he loved and coincidentally, the drive in you attracted him 4 years ago.

He wanted to see more of you. The detective wanted more of you.

"... yes." Your eye twitched at him, smile weighed heavily on your face. Your fingernails tore your skin and it bled. Your sanity was bleeding. You had been blackmailed. You had been fucking jailed by the detective.

[randomness-is-my-order]

Considering you like mlb.

What's your opinion on the whole "Marinatte and Co. keeping Gabriel bring monarch a secret from adrien" thing? Cause man it's made adrienette more icky to me, cause yeah ik mari has her reasons but idk 😅

before i answer anon, just know that when i say i’m into mlb, i mean that after being disappointed by the canon media i have exclusively engaged with the fandom output (fics, art, some analyses) and stopped watching the show post like the fourth season. xP

my opinion on the “marinette and others keeping adrien out of the loop about how his FATHER was the main antagonist of the show for multiple seasons and actively harmed him both inside and outside his superhero identity to keep him ignorantly happy and let him believe his pos dad was a hero” is that it is some truly spectacular bullshit. idk how the show is proceeding from this pithole it is has dug for itself but the very fact that adrien’s kept in the dark about such a crucial piece of information by the very people he trusts the most is gonna sit sourly on anyone’s tongue who cares even remotely for his character and even marinette’s, for that matter.

i think it is really ironic that one facet of adrien we are shown to affect him most negatively is when he is kept out of secrets and alienated in terms of information and we went through a whole arc about ladybug learning to keep chat noir in the loop and then she goes and repeats the same process, only this time it’s so much worse. i’m assuming she’s doing this for “both” chat noir and adrien but it’s especially egregious for adrien since marinette/ladybug KNOWS how poorly gabriel treated his son. idk man, i think the writers could have resolved this so much better than bypassing the confrontation (chat noir vs gabriel) that so many of us had been awaiting.

and of course, marinette’s just a kid with absolutely too much on her plate and she’s probably feeling very guilty about all of this and there will be an eventual blow-up of the secrets kept but here, the drama of the situation matters less than maintaining the integrity of the narrative which was already compromised during last season’s finale. everything done now has to grasp at straws to reach a point that compensates for the absence of adrien’s involvement in the downfall of his own father and subsequent matyrdom and the choices ladybug and others took in the wake of it but honestly? i’m not sure the writers will handle the gravity of such choices with enough weight for me to be compelled by whatever character development they show.

adrien’s agency has been repeatedly compromised, mishandled, disrespected over the course of the show and it continues to be so, so i don’t blame you for being uncomfortable with adrinette in the current season because i feel the same way. being manipulated and thereby controlled “for his own good” is not a good look and all the history we have on his character and gabriel’s makes it really harrowing as a plot point to watch unfold (which is why i’m not gonna). until and unless adrien is treated like a person capable of making his own decisions, allowed to know everything that relates to him, allowed to be a person who can react in whichever the fuck way he wants to potentially devastating news, the relationship between adrinette in any form won’t restore the balance that has been off for seasons now.

atp anon, the fandom is a gift that keeps giving so go on ao3 and find a retelling of the recent seasons that are probably more faithful to both adrien and marinette than the show will ever be.

[voulezloux]

tw abuse in the tags

[wolfwarrior142]

Callum has asked Rayla twice now to kill him if he's ever corrupted again. This time as like a barter. And this time, despite looking devastated, she finally (begrudgingly) agrees. And later this season, Callum is cleared of his dark magic corruption, but it also warned that if he does dark magic again it'll overwhelm him.

Man my dreams have already been haunted enough by death foreshadowing I can't take much more of it for these two.

[dontcallpanic]

How nice is this that there are SO MANY more people to thank for changing my life than just 3. I've never been great at following rules so have like 10 or 11 people I'd like to thank from the bottom of my heart.

@gege-wondering-around - you were The very first person to be nice to me here and right at the beginning you sent me in the direction of some really incredible people. You are a ray of sunshine and I love your creative mind. You are absolutely the little sister I never had!

@oldefashioned - you are the kindest person in the world. Literally. I love how inclusive you are and early on you just sort of swept me along. I think you were the first person to include me in a tag games and got the interaction ball rolling. Anyway I owe you a huge amount. Thank you!

@greyhavenisback - I mean... Where do I start! From ghosts to cheerleading ily! You make my days infinitely brighter and I've had SO much fun avoiding smalltalk. Also you are THE MOST incredible writer and your mind is absolutely amazing. You are a total inspiration. Thank you for asking me to tell you a ghost story. Lineman wouldn't even be a thing without you and my cat is definitely a lot happier too!

@fuji09 - you were one of the very first people to be nice to me and interact with me! It was the first time I thought oh maybe I can stick around here! I love your teen wolf analysis, it's always so thoughtful and thought provoking. And the way you debate is so respectful and considered - and the way you stand up for yourself is absolute perfection. The world would be a better place if more people were like you.

@patolemus - I love your brain. So MUCH. Thanks for replying to my comments on your fic and setting off a year long sterek Meta/psychoanalysis (I think I still owe you a Derek and anger as an anchor reply now o think about it!) but also thanks for always being an absolute gem and always making me laugh! Your stories are some of my all time favorites and I will cheerlead you forever!

@cantchangemypast - you are a truly beautiful soul! You are so kind and sweet and you deserve the absolute world. Your resilience is completely inspiring and thanks for talking baking, bread and Wales and cultural traditions and sharing recipes. It always brightens my day to hear from you!

@hellameyers - oh my god you are the coolest, most badass person! I love your analysis, your taste in music and your stories! You are so fierce and so unbelievably kind and yeah just deeply, deeply cool!

@lil0ak - From ice sport to folklore and monster fuckery, I really really enjoy our chats and the Dorset Ooser will forever be on my mind now! Plus you are the most fantastic writer and tell it to my heart is just everything I get excited about rolled into one brilliant story!

@novemberhush - music moot!! You have the coolest taste in music AND I now go around singing country songs because of you! Thanks for including me in the fun stuff, I really appreciate it.

@all-or-nothing-baby - the nicest person with the absolute coolest artwork AND stories. Multi-talented and your monologues are phenomenal. Yours was one of the first fanfics I read - I think it was love yew! And it just set off a chain reaction. Thanks SO much!

@dear-massacre - Smart as a fucking whip, I'm totally in awe of you. Bruised like violets permanently changed my brain and somehow gave me everything I needed. It inspired me to start writing again after 8 years. I LOVE the way you write and the stories you tell. You take no bullshit and can still be valnerable. Your analysis is phenomenal and I love reading your takes. Just... Yup... Awe!

I mean there are so many more, I could literally go on and on and on and how Nice is that? This is such a super cool fandom and if you know me then know I'm totally greatful for you all on a daily basis - doesn't matter if we interact or not. Thanks for being awesome.

someone suggested that i ask people for three people in the fandom that changed their lives and changed their experience in the fandom (good experiences). people that helped you in this fandom and gave you a reason to stick around.

💜

[pollenallergie]

“do the hardest task first”

no. just… no.

hot take: this doesn’t work for people with adhd (in my experience/from what i’ve heard from other people with adhd in my life). i recommend doing the easy/moderately difficult stuff first, that way you can convince yourself that it’s all going to be this easy and undemanding. then hyper-focus will kick in because your brain is like, “yeah, we can do this, we’ve got this.” then, before you know it, you’ve completed both the easy tasks and the hard tasks while hyperfocusing.

like, on a serious note, it’s always been easier for me to convince myself to get the most difficult tasks done when i’m already working/in the working frame of mind, not when i’m laying in bed or sitting on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through stuff on my phone, and struggling to start at all.

if the choice comes down to you not starting at all or starting with the easiest task first (which, for me, it often does), always, always pick starting with the easiest task first. sometimes you need a small victory, a little bit of an accomplishment, to give you the courage to take on bigger challenges.

[bleaksqueak]

lol due to the pose of this tarot card i'm being forced to draw the front facing panel of the reaper uniform completely by hand for the first time in (probably two years now...hahahaha) oh, assets, you are great and wonderful and save me so much time Until not even Warp and Transform can lift you high enough. Then I must replicate these complicated designs Wholly Anew. like some sort of "art" "doer" (I hate that I have to add this disclaimer but this is the hell world we live in: the assets in question are ones I painted by hand at flat angles with the intent to be used over and over again. like a shoujo transformation sequence. it's not Aye-Eye BS or anything of the sort) with that disclaimer out of the way.... at the very least it means I can save the flats for this specific pose and thus it can then be re-used later when the comic will inevitably call for it. WORK SMART! WORK ART SMRT

[james-stark-the-writer]

just finished Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, and it is a game written by cowards for cowards.

the final twist genuinely ruins the game. it's so stupid as a narrative decision. i hate it so much. it almost makes me understand what the people yelling about The Last Jedi being too subservient to its themes were yelling about (OBVIOUSLY not the ones that were being bigoted and loud and wrong about it, but just the ones who had actual issues with its narrative directions/execution). genuinely, the twist takes what could have been an extremely solid 8.5, maybe a 9/10 game down to a 4/10 game with nothing of interest to say deluding itself into thinking it's saying anything of worth by thoughtlessly repeating patterns as if that's supposed to generate meaning without any real effort of actually committing to that meaning, or seeing the world as anything beyond its basic binary worldview of Good and Bad.

putting that twist in fundamentally cuts the legs out from any actual, interesting and substantive critique it could have leveled at the legal system and our feelings about people on trial and their perceived guilt or innocence, and it just ends up reinforcing it as a power of good that Will Ultimately Prevail In The Search For Truth, as if that is even remotely a thing any legal system is concerned with, especially the one in the game that mostly just stumbles into The Right Choices because it's a game controlled by the player. it's frankly ideologically incoherent to the point of saying nothing because its critique is unfocused and toothless. best it can muster is "maybe some people are corrupt and lying, but if You take Advantage of The System, you can beat them" as if malicious compliance is supposed to change the system. fuck off.

ran out of tags but. i'm serious about this lol, i really hate it as a narrative and ideological choice. the game threatens to say something bold and interesting and then just pulls the rug out from underneath you. it sucks. it's very much like 12 Angry Men in that way, i think, except at least that movie Knows what it's saying and that its basic premise is its ideological downfall, this just doesn't really feel like it says anything much interesting or coherent, ultimately, because the criticism either drowns in the length and comedic nature of it, or just ultimately isn't focused and pointed and nuanced enough to actually say something meaningful. like ik someone's gonna do a "kid's game" thing but hello, kid's shit has always been nuanced and just bc it's "for kids" doesn't mean it has to abide by some binary ass morality that flattens all its interesting critique, especially when you're constantly led, structurally, to the more interesting and nuanced narrative choice only to have a twist completely ruin it and making it all feel like a waste of your time. plenty of things are nuanced and interesting and "for kids" without deflating their themes and messages by writing a stupid twist that undercuts the interesting parts of its arguments.