#fuck your dead dead great grandmother

[lady-nuggetz]

Do not mess with us Fang fans!

We are fucking delusional!

[recycledraccoon]

Minor thoughts on Oisin and how he seems primed to fuck over Adaine specifically. The flustered ping-pong balls that were a plan all along. The quoting her own words on the previous Elven Oracle back at her in regards to the storm.

I mean...imagine you're a skinny little dragonborn wizard, in a class with a cute elven girl. You don't talk to her, but one of your adventuring party members is pissing thinking that party is getting preferential treatment, so you KNOW about her. You watch from the corner of your eye or from a spot on the back of the class whenever she's actually there. Partway through the year she goes to jail, and when she comes back she and her adventuring party save the world from a dragon. (A dragon of whom your Grandmother had been fond. ((Also, coincidentally, the Vice Principal.))) One of them created a god.

(Your entire party is being groomed into rage by two of your teachers.)

You're in her class again. She is the Elven Oracle, already an accomplished adventurer. She and her friends are popular. She's very pretty. She does not know your name. She does not know who you are, just a skinny dragonborn a few seats back.

You go on your Sophomores Year Spring Break Adventure and don't bother to think about her party at all.

(You and your party are going to kill a god. Your teacher is going to ascend to godhood in their place and you and your party will have Made That Happen. You are angry and determined with each final blow you deal.)

You return from Spring Break angry and with a sore chest.

You find out the elven girl's party has resurrected a dead god and the live streamed the entire fight. They must think they're so much better than you and your party. You'll show them.

(Your friend refuses to change her faith. She cancels the paperwork. The rest of you kill her, confident she will make the right choice and join you again as a proper Champion for your new god. You help kill her. She does not get back up. You hide the body and none of you can say anything. You're so so angry.)

The world descended into darkness and you can do nothing. The sun finally breaks across the sky again right before Junior year. You and your party have made plans and are on the cusp of greatness. You've gained muscles to spare and ink on your scales in carefully selected runes, no longer just a skinny little dragonborn.

(You have a new cleric. He's not your friend. He's a haystack hick from that cult-church from Freshman year, and he's here because the god you're going to kill needs a Champion and he fits the bill, nothing more.)

The first day of school the plan starts to be put in motion. Immediately that party of kids is interfering, in your way. It rackles. You push on anyway, seething inside even as you act the part of being reasonable.

You go to a party at the houses of one of her friends. You've been practicing making spell runes on the inside of ping-pong balls. You're ready.

The pretty Elven girl in your class finally looks at you. She approaches you, gives you a drink, and chills it in your hand. She has to ask your name. You have shared certain wizarding classes with her since Freshman year, tho she was barely there. You have to tell her that.

You chat. She clearly gets flustered, calls you great, and flees back into the house. Your friend teases you for others to overhear. It's a convenient excuse to use your geometry and apply physics to miss every single shot and lay your trap. The drink isn't so perfectly chilled in your hand anymore.

(You talk to her. Play nice. She isn't smooth, but she smiled at you and maybe a part of you is vindictive in seeing her flustered. It's a shame she turned down the diamonds, as dragon madness would have been so poetic. You steal her summons to steal something from the house. She didn't know your name. Didn't remember you. You feel justified. Your anger burns cold like frostbite, like static in the air. You purposely don't wonder if that first miss was intentional or genuine.)

You see each other in class sometimes.

You plot and kill monsters the woods. You will win the battle. You will win the war.

Your parties have a standoff in the cafeteria. You play your part to diffuse the situation, your teacher has been harping on your friends to stop antagonizing the other party. You feel her mind touch yours gentle probing of intentions, her friends all around her as you lock eyes.

(The devil's honey your group gets from that bee girl all goes to your teacher. He is preparing himself to ascend to godhood, and he needs it for his prayers.)

She is searching for your intentions and feelings. You tell her only 'Sorry'. She believes you. You are not entirely sure why. She and her party will hopefully die during their Last Stand exam, and have no way to revive themselves in time, be trapped there until after elections.

Maybe she just wasn't perceptive enough to see the deception.

(You hate her and all her friends. You have had no devil's honey. She believes you. Briefly, you wonder if it was a lie at all.)

They catch you. They know. Your team goes to ground and waits out the remaining days 'til elections and the culmination of everything you've been working for.

It rains at the party, and you have no more masks. You are angry. She must never have been that good of an Oracle at all, and you take joy in mocking her with her own words from long ago.

She's nothing more than an elven girl in your class who was full of herself to remember your name.

(There is nothing left now to stop you from being as openly angry as you like.)

[fairuzfan]

Like my great grandmother was the KINDEST, most caring person I've ever met. She barely knew me but she would always laud praise on me and wish me a good future and always always pray for me to enter Heaven. We barely knew each other. When she met ANYONE she would pray loudly for their wellbeing even though she was incredibly sick and suffering like everyone who met her and my great grandfather ALWAYS remarked how gentle and kind they were but them having to leave their homes to protect their children broke their hearts to the point they got physically sick from it and suffered for years before passing away. And that all is because of zionism. It doesn't matter how nice you are or how good of a person you are, if you're Palestinian they want you dead and gone and they won't even respect your bodies afterwards. I dont even want to hear from all of you about how zionism is a trauma response or whatever the fuck zionism only happens because you all let it happen and I'll never ever ever consider you a good person in my life, even if you don't care about my opinion. I hope you all suffer from your guilt because I suffer from mine.

[deaddee-anime-brownfanlady]

Everything! Everything this man is saying is so damned true. If you are someone who willingly voted for Trump while knowing what he'll do once he gets in Office again.

Deeply FUCK YOU! If you're a person that refuses to vote against him and didn't do anything to stop him at all than FUCK YA'LL too.

If you are a Muslim or Latino or a Non-Black POC that supported and voted for Trump and are now worried about being deported and banned from the country, I really don't feel sorry for any of ya'll. Some of ya'll non-Black POC countine to showcase that ya'll will always choose White Supremacy and Whiteness at the end of the day while simultaneously voting against your own self interests while still being anti-Black as hell.

You won't get any sympathy from me whatsoever. Ya'll Fuckers wanted this so deal with it.

To the percentage of White Women who yet again let down Black Women & other Women of Color by voting for having less bodily anatomy and less rights than you're great great-grandmother, Ya'll don't deserve any sympathy neither.

Pro-Palestine people, FUCK OFF too. Ya'll are also full of bullshit and have showcased that ya'll truly don't give a Fuck about Palestinians or Gazans lives when you let a raging White supremacist like Trump who have said he'll let Netanyahu " Finish the Job", and will have no remorse or issues Nuking the hell out of both Gaza and Palestine altogether.

Ya'll aren't " activists " of any kind and have shown just how unserious, radicalized, brainwashed extremists ya'll truly are in terms of your so-called " Support ".

To the percentage of brain-dead Black men who also voted for this bastard, I rarely used the N-word in my vocabulary. But ya'll are truly some stupid-ass Nigg*s. You're character as a person is garbage and you are a disgrace to your grandparents and many other Black people of the Civil rights movement who fought and died for your fucking ass and this is how you repay them.

By voting for a White supremacist and beyond racist piece of shit. Ya'll Uncle Tom's or I should say Ruckuses don't deserve any sympathy neither.

The third-party voters and those who wasted their vote on Jill stein as a protest vote, ya'll are the stupidest group of people alive and FUCK ALL OF YA'LL as well.

I've seriously had enough of this shit. I'm tired and sick of being held hostage by the ignorant and stupid and hateful people of this damned country.

I'm just so fucking sick.

Ya'll won't get any sympathy from me if you actually wanted this man in power again or refused to actually vote against him during the election.

You've shown ya'll true characters and how horrible of people ya'll truly are.

Don't expect any sympathy or empathy towards you if you're the one who wanted this to happen.

[shekeepswriting]

A Little More Heart (3)

[Syverson x Reader]

Word Count: 5310 (Someone got carried away. Me. It was me.)

Summary: Sy answers your grandmother's summons for dinner.

Warnings: None

A/N: I'm back from the dead hellooooo! Grad school has truly been kicking my ass. I hope this is a fun surprise for everyone

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Sy was standing three inches from an industrial box fan, sweating his ass off and  questioning every last one of his life decisions when he heard his brother shouting for him from across the garage. 

Easily as tall as Sy but two years younger and with a little less mass, Aaron was the second of three Syverson boys. Unlike Sy, he preferred his hair long and took great pride in caring for it, an abundant mass of dark curls that usually reached his shoulders. But at work, and during most of the summer, he kept it tied in a messy knot on the top of his head. 

“Sy! Phone!”

Aaron moved fast across the floor, hand clamped around the bottom of a cordless landline to block the sound, two cheap blue popsicles still in their conjoined plastic tubes clenched between his teeth. 

“By name?” Sy asked with a sigh as he approached.

Aaron shifted his grip on the phone to take the popsicles out of his mouth.

“Yep. It’s Ms. Bea. We expecting her in for something soon?”

“No, but I drove her granddaughter home last night, so - ”

Aaron’s eyes widened, and he frantically mashed at the button to put Ms. Bea on hold.

“You did what?” he asked, an obnoxious grin taking over his face. 

“Settle down,” Sy mumbled, turning back towards the fan. 

“My permanently single, grumpy-ass older brother drove a girl home last night. I’m not settling down.”

“Not a girl. She’s a woman.” 

Aaron let out a wordless shout, jostling Sy’s shoulder and plopping down on the table beside the fan, grinning even wider than before.

“Oh, there’s no way in hell I’m letting this shit go now. A woman, you say.”

Sy rolled his eyes.

“You gonna give me one of those?” he asked, jerking his chin toward the slowly melting popsicles. 

“Only as a bribe,” Aaron answered, ripping the perforated wrappers apart and holding one out tauntingly. 

“For what?”

“Information, dumbass.”

Sy snatched the popsicle  out of his hand, holding it behind his back when Aaron swatted at it. 

“Saw her walking home in the dark. Stopped to drive her home. Simple as that.” 

“Uh huh. And what earned her the distinction of ‘woman,’ I wonder.”

“She’s a grown-ass woman, that’s what,” Sy said bluntly, stepping out of Aaron’s reach to rip open the top of the popsicle wrapper. 

“Noticed her ass, did ya?”

Sy shot him an unimpressed look, breaking the top inch of frozen blue sugar into his mouth with a harsh bite and holding his hand out.

“Just give me the fuckin phone.”

“Five questions first,” Aaron argued.

“Three.”

“Four.”

“Go.” 

Aaron clapped in delight, taking a moment to think before launching into his limited interrogation.

“Did you smile?”

“Yep.”

“Did she make you laugh?”

“Yep.” 

Aaron smiled again, but this time there was no mischief tied up in it. He looked uncharacteristically sincere.

“Did you get her number?”

“Yes. Last one.”

He squinted thoughtfully.

“Butterflies?”

“Fuck off, Aaron.” 

“Oh, shit, that’s a yes!” But still he wasn’t teasing. His eyes were wide with surprise, his smile still genuine, not mocking.

“Phone.” 

“You could barely grow facial hair the last time you had butterflies! The good butterflies, anyway. Shit, I have so many more questions now.”

“I gave you four, and you asked four. Now, gimme the phone.”

Aaron slapped the phone into Sy’s open palm but kept a hold of the bottom.

“We’re talking about this later.”

“Fine. Don’t tell mom.”

“Fine.” And there was that familiar smile again, the one that rarely ended well for anyone. The little shit. 

Sy retreated to his office in the back of the garage, phone and popsicle in hand, before taking Ms. Bea off of hold. There was little to no chance she’d be able to hear him out on the floor.

“Hello.”

“Hi! Busy day today? Staying cool out there, I hope.”

“Doing my best, Ms. Bea. How are ya? That car of yours still treatin you right?”

“Oh, I’m alright. I haven’t driven in a few days, but as far as I know, it’s just fine.”

“If that changes, you let me know, okay?”

“I will!” There was a brief pause. “So listen! I hear you’re the one to thank for seeing my grandbaby home safe last night.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, I didn’t get this far in life leaving my debts unpaid. So you just come on down to the house when you’re through with work, and we’ll treat you to a nice dinner. How does that sound?”

“That’s a very generous offer, but you don’t owe me a thing, Ms. Bea. I didn’t know who she was when I stopped. I would’ve done the same for anyone walking that road at night.”

“Oh, I trust you would have, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some gratitude, now does it?”

Sy shook his head. If he didn’t make an appearance tonight, Ms. Bea would only show up tomorrow with the promised dinner wrapped up in foil and glass containers. He knew better than to expect this to go away on its own. And honestly, if it afforded him the possibility of seeing you again, he may not want it to. 

“Well - ”

“Pardon me, dear. My phone is being stolen.”

Sy raised an eyebrow. There was a shuffling sound, a sigh, the closing of a door. Your voice came through, flustered and apologetic.

“I’m so sorry. I tried to talk her out of it, but the woman will not be denied.”

He smiled a little, imagining the look on your face.  

“That’s alright. I had a feelin’ something like this would happen.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just what happens around here. You do someone a favor, they find a way to thank you for it.”

“Oh… I did say thank you though, didn’t I?”

“You did,” he said through another smile. “That’s not what I meant though.”

“So you’re saying it really should be me offering you dinner?” you asked. “Did I accidentally cause a blood feud by not knowing that?”

“Just a short one. Couple decades, tops.” 

Your laugh sounded muffled, like you’d moved the phone down to your chest in an attempt to hide it. 

“So do I have your permission to come see you and Ms. Bea this evening?”

“Depends. Will there be a torch and pitchfork involved?”

“Nah. Lost ‘em both in a poker game.”

“What a shame.”

“That mean I’m in the clear?”

“Yeah, I guess you’d better come around. Especially considering I was sent on a separate grocery run specifically for this dinner.”

“I’d ask you not to go to too much trouble, but I have a feeling it’s not really up to you.”

“Rude but accurate. There’s a whole raw chicken out there. I’m mildly terrified.”

Just as he was opening his mouth to answer, the office door creaked open, letting in a flood of sound and one very stressed woman. 

“Sy!”

“Hold on one sec,” he said to you quickly before lowering the phone to his chest and raising his eyebrows in question.

“Someone up front wants to talk to you.”

Sy grimaced.

“Me specifically or a manager?”

“Manager.”

He gestured her out of the office then followed, eyes sweeping over the collection of cars and people. 

“Aaron!”

“Yeah?” he yelled from under a car Sy had been working on earlier. 

Sy crossed the garage impatiently, reaching down to drag him out from under the car by the ankle. 

“Pretty face up front.”

Aaron groaned.

“I was the pretty face last time!” he complained. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Never been pretty a day in my life.”

“Fuck you. You know there’s no good comeback for that.” 

“And I’m on the phone still. Get.”

“God damn it.” But he was already reaching up for Sy’s hand to haul him up to his feet. 

“Have fun,” Sy called after him before lifting the phone back to his ear. “Sorry about that.”

“No, that’s okay! I should probably let you go. You seem busy.”

“You got me out of talking to a customer. Far as I’m concerned, we can stay on the phone all damn day.” 

You laughed again, but this time you let him hear it.

“Does that mean you owe me a dinner now too?”

“We can talk about it,” Sy said with a smile, turning his back when one of his mechanics looked up curiously at his tone. 

“Either way, I guess I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am. Can I bring anything?”

“Better not. We’ll be stuck in the thank you cycle forever.” 

That really didn’t sound like the worst thing, but he didn’t want to push you farther than he already was with this dinner tonight.

“Alright. I’ll uh… I’ll text you when I’m on my way then.”

“You mean to tell me you have my number?” you gasped. “How did that happen?”

“Some troublemaker gave it to me at the bar last night.”

“Interesting.” 

“I thought so. Haven’t had time to use it yet, but I was planning on it.”

“Very interesting… Well, I’ll let you go now. See you at dinner.”

“Lookin forward to it.” 

Sy tried to keep himself occupied all day, tried not to leave his mind free to dwell on you or try to predict how this dinner would go. Tried not to let himself be cornered by Aaron. Again. 

He took off a little early, running home for a shower and a change into something nicer than a stained t-shirt before heading your way. Though his warning text had prompted you to share your grandmother’s address, Sy didn’t need it. The town was small enough, and he’d been down to the house before, a couple of times, to drive Ms. Bea to church when her car had been out of commission. But he’d never been inside before, or even past the gate. 

By the time Sy’s shoes hit the driveway pavement, you were rounding the corner of the house in a pale green sundress and a clunky pair of slippers several sizes too big for your feet. Confident, as you had every right to be despite the footwear, but maybe a little flustered too. 

“Well, hello,” he said with a small smile. He let himself look you over, let you see him look you over, but only for a second. Before he could pay you an appropriately polite compliment, you blurted out,

“I didn’t wear this for you. Just so you know.”

Sy’s eyebrows rose along with his hands. It had honestly never occurred to him that you might have worn it for him. But three times was enough to pick up the pattern. Walls up at first greeting. He had to earn your ease again.

“I know you didn’t,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes on yours. “Known Ms. Bea long enough that I’d call her an ambulance if I ever saw her in a pair of jeans.” 

The corner of your mouth twitched up for a second, and you took a breath, rolled your shoulders. 

“Yeah… Sorry, I just…”

“You’re not used to this,” Sy offered with an easy shrug, lowering his hands again.

“I’m not,” you agreed. “I don’t introduce people to my grandmother. Ever. And definitely not…” You glanced over your shoulder towards the windows, lowering your voice slightly. “Definitely not a man I was flirting with the night before.”

“Did you flirt with me? Can’t recall. Where was I when all that was going on?

You rolled your eyes, more tension leaving your shoulders.

“You know I did.”

“Now, let’s see…” Sy said, running a hand over his beard in a way that earned him a real smile this time. “I remember you making fun of my handwriting. Making fun of my pickup lines. Threatening me with a knife.”

“I didn’t threaten you with a knife,” you laughed. 

Sy smiled at the sound. Now he was getting somewhere.

“No? So that was you flirtin’ then?”

“Must have been. Couldn’t be when I asked for your number.”

“Nah, I asked first.”

“No, you didn’t!”

“In my own way.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the smile was still there. Like you knew what he was doing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed by it. 

“Well, anyway,” Sy continued. “You’re not introducing me because I already know your grandma. And I’m well aware that I’m here on her invitation, not yours. So when I tell you that you look nice, it’s just an observation. No motive behind it beyond the fact that I think you ought to hear it.”

A couple of rapid blinks in surprise, a deep breath, a slow nod.

“Well… Thank you.”

Sy nodded back, and then you were turning in a pretty flutter of skirts, heading back towards the gate with a call for him to follow. 

“Rules of the house. No cursing. No wandering unsupervised. And dinner guests don’t enter the kitchen for any reason ever,” you listed, closing the gate behind him.

“Got it.”

“One more thing. Nana takes hosting extremely seriously and therefore takes my hosting extremely seriously. A lot of pageantry went into this evening. But despite all of that, rest assured you are not being husband hunted.”

“Should’ve left the ring at home then, huh?” 

“Don’t even let her hear that,” you warned with a grimace.

“Wouldn’t let me leave?”

“On the contrary. She’d light the house on fire just to get you out of it.” 

“Well now you’re just hurtin my feelings.” 

You rolled your eyes, the corner of your mouth tugging up in a reluctant smile.

“Don’t go feeling special. She’d do that to anyone she thought was proposing to me.” 

You spun around again, as graceful as you could manage to be in oversized slippers on pebbledash, and Sy smiled at the extra, intentional swish in your skirt as you led him to the back door.

“Ready?” you asked, hand pausing on the handle.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the dogs,” you said breezily as you opened the screen door. 

You were ambushed the second you walked through the door. There was a small black terrier, hopping around on two feet, desperate for your attention, and following behind at a slower pace was the largest boxer that Sy had ever seen.

“Hi, Bertie. Go make a friend,” you said softly, ruffling the small dog’s ears and shooing her gently away from you as you stepped to the side to intercept the dog that was staring down Sy with laser focus. 

Bertie came hopping up to Sy, bright pink tongue lolling out from her underbite as she braced her front feet on his shin. 

“Pleased to meet ya, little miss,” he said with a smile, crouching slowly to give her the attention she was seeking. She was a sweet one, falling all over herself to love on him.

A sharp whistle drew both Sy and Bertie’s attention, but you remained focused on the boxer, who had been leaning around you to take a peek at him.

“Brass,” you said firmly when the dog’s attention was back on you. “He’s okay.” 

Brass let out an unconvinced grumble, going back to monitor Sy until you snapped your fingers. 

“Hey. Look at me,” you said firmly. “He’s okay. Be nice. And I promise you can help me run him off if he misbehaves.” 

You held out your hand, and Brass sat just long enough to offer you her large paw. You shook it gently, laughing at the baleful eyes she was still giving you.

“Can she perform a routine inspection?” you asked over your shoulder. 

“Of course,” Sy said, sitting all the way down on the kitchen floor. 

“Be nice,” you reminded Brass as you stepped aside to let her pass. 

Sy kept still, leaving his hands open and palm up as Brass made a slow circuit around him, sniffing diligently. Up close, she was even more impressive, one of the most solid and imposing dogs he’d ever seen, not yet softening with the age that had a few greys growing around her mouth and eyes. Brass completed her loop quickly, stopping in front of him to stare at him just a little longer.

“Ma’am,” he greeted quietly, and he saw you smiling as you called her back over to you. 

“Got yourself a real guard dog, don’t you?” Sy asked, watching as Brass bumped your hand with her nose before retreating to lay in the archway between the kitchen and living room. 

“Oh yes. The General takes her job very seriously. And she’s not a fan of men. Try not to take it personally.” 

“Ms. Bea named her General Brass?” he asked with a smile. “Or do you just want a dog to outrank me to prove a point?”

“How dare you,” you gasped. “I’ll have you know we named her General Brass Knuckles together.” 

“Well, now I know you’re lyin,” he laughed.

“I would never - Nana!” you called as your grandmother finally entered the kitchen. “Tell Sy what Brass’s full name is.” 

“General Brass Knuckles. Why?” she said, holding a hand out to Sy as she approached with a welcoming smile. 

“Your granddaughter likes to tease me,” he said, squeezing her hand gently in greeting. “It’s good to see you, Ms. Bea.” 

“She’ll do that. But I happen to think it’s a wonderful name. Suits her. She’s tough like me and like my granddaughter.” Ms. Bea squeezed his hand back. “Did you come hungry?”

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

“Good! Go on and sit. Table’s already set.” 

Set very nicely too. Cloth napkins and the fancy salt and pepper shakers. Matching serving dishes. Ms. Bea didn’t do anything by half measures. 

Sy took the seat you gestured to, hesitating just long enough for you and your grandmother to sit before he did. 

The way you’d spoken on the phone made it sound like this was an unfamiliar process to you, but it didn’t show. You began serving and passing food smoothly, your expression pleasant but neutral as Ms. Bea took the lead on conversation.

“How’s your family? We’re getting lots of sun this summer. Your mama’s garden must be a vision.”

“She sends me pictures every day,” Sy said with a polite smile. “And she’s been doing her research, trying to figure out what to put in the greenhouse now it’s finished.”

“I think that woman could plant just about anything and make it grow. She has a real gift.”

“That was the plan. As long as she gets some use out of it, I’ll be happy.”

“Wait, did you build a greenhouse?” you cut in curiously, pausing with a forkful of roasted potatoes halfway to your mouth. 

“Not as hard as it sounds,” Sy said, chancing a wink when you squinted skeptically at him. 

“I doubt that very much,” Ms. Bea said mildly, making you laugh. “And your grandmother? She still living out there in the country on her own?”

“Nana, this is out there in the country.” 

“Alright, city girl,” she said, patting your cheek as your mouth dropped open in surprise.

“You were literally born in Brooklyn.”

“Were you really?” Sy asked, surprised. She sure didn’t sound like it, never had to his memory. Her accent was soft, but it was there, syrupy and southern like every other elderly woman in town. 

“A lifetime ago,” Ms. Bea said with a secretive little smile. “Wouldn’t recognize it now.” 

“With how many pictures I sent you last month?” you challenged with a fond smile. “You know, you could come with me next time I go.” 

“You don’t need an old lady slowing you down.” The look she gave you put an end to that conversation, and you raised your hands slightly in surrender. “Now, you still owe me news of my old friend.”

Sy nodded as her attention turned back on him.

“She’s doing alright. Gonna head up that way tomorrow to fix her air conditioner.”

“Okay, seriously? You can build a greenhouse and fix an air conditioner?” 

You almost sounded irritated, and Sy tried not to smile.

“Oh this man can fix just about everything,” Ms. Bea said.

“Wow,” you said mildly, smiling around a sip of water. “Take that compliment and run. I’ve never heard her speak so highly of a man in my life.”

“Oh, hush. Yes, you have,” your grandmother said in a no-nonsense tone.

Hush, Sy mouthed at you with mock sternness when you glanced his way. Your eyes narrowed playfully, and you kicked at his shin under the table. 

“How are those brothers of yours?”

“Oooo brothers. Now that’s interesting.” And that grin you were wearing was specifically designed to get a rise out of him. Sy eyed you, watching that smile widen just a touch before he turned his attention back to Ms. Bea. 

“They’re doing good. Jimmy’s teaching summer school. Aaron’s just the same as always. But he has been eating instant potatoes for lunch every day if you want to have a word with him about it.”

Ms. Bea gave him a knowing look, her pursed lips relaxed into a smile that verged on mischievous.

“I certainly will. That boy get a haircut yet?”

“No, ma’am. Past his shoulders now when it’s not tied up.”

You hummed with interest.

“Did he steal all of yours?”

Ms. Bea let out half a surprised laugh before she pressed a napkin to her lips demurely, regaining her composure. You were staring at him, eyes bright with amusement and challenge as he shook his head slowly at you, huffing a laugh through his nose. 

“Now don’t go giving him too hard a time,” Ms. Bea said before Sy could respond. “He did you a good turn last night.”

“He did,” you agreed.

“You should have seen it before he started cutting it all off. Just as soft and curly as anything.”

“Like a poodle,” you supplied, looking him over with a poorly-suppressed grin, as if trying to imagine it.

“You wicked thing,” Ms. Bea said with a little grin, nudging you with her elbow. “He looked just exactly like a porcelain doll when he was younger.”

Sy took a breath, wishing Ms. Bea would kindly stop digging his grave as your smile grew.

“Oh, really? Do you have any pictures?”

“I’m sure I do. Somewhere.” She squinted thoughtfully towards the living room. “In the old Christmas cards if nowhere else.”

“You’re really not giving up on that, are you?” he sighed.

“Absolutely not,” you answered. “I might have before, but a porcelain doll? Come on, now. I’m not walking away from that.”

Ms. Bea shot you a curious look but didn’t comment, guiding the three of you to a different subject with the confident ease of someone who had been navigating the passive aggressive waters of southern social life for decades. 

Things carried on that way for quite a while: Ms. Bea asking polite questions and you finding ways to subtly or not-so-subtly tease him. 

The plates had long been clear when Brass interrupted the conversation with a single, sharp warning bark, rising from her position in the doorway to bully her way behind the blinds on the nearest kitchen window. Sy heard it a few seconds later: a car making the turn onto the long driveway.

“Were you expecting anyone else?” you asked, glancing to your grandmother with a frown.

When Ms. Bea shook her head, Sy leaned back in his chair, moving his head to the side until he caught a glimpse through the window over the sink.

“Little blue Toyota, looks like.” 

Ms. Bea rose quickly, her lips pursed to the point of disappearing.

“Darling, would you take our guest out to the pool house so he can pick a drink for the road? I’d like a private word with your cousin.” 

Your eyebrows raised, but you nodded wordlessly, grabbing at Sy’s arm as you stood from the table. He followed your lead, letting you tug him along out the back door.

“Poor Kat,” you said once the door closed behind you. 

“Well, she did leave you stranded,” Sy said quietly. 

“Turned out okay,” you said with a shrug, dropping your hand back to your side when you caught his eyes. 

Sy held your gaze with an easy nod, not pulling back or looking away until you took a flustered breath and tilted your head to the side.

“Let’s get out of here before the fireworks start, huh?”

You hopped off the porch steps, following the end of the driveway to a small carport that backed into an even smaller outbuilding. A later addition, it looked like. Several decades newer than the house. 

“You gonna tell me why we’re calling this a pool house? Not seeing a pool anywhere.”

“Patience,” you huffed, skirting around the two cars that were squeezed together beneath the carport. 

You paused at the door, bouncing lightly on your feet as if to gather some nerve.

“Alright, full disclosure, sometimes a lizard or a snake gets in here. And if I open this door and see a snake, I will either fully abandon you to deal with that shit by yourself or climb you like a tree.”

And there were all sorts of things he could say to that, but he chose to keep his damn mouth shut and nod instead. 

You led the way into the tiny building, wading through air that somehow felt even hotter than it had outside. After a second of endearingly impatient flailing, you caught hold of the thin chain hanging from the light on the ceiling, turning it on with a swift tug. 

It didn’t do much for the space, which remained dim and dusty. There was very little room to walk, a thin avenue of clear concrete circled a large tarped object in the center of the room. Boxes, folding chairs and tables, and a long abandoned workbench lined the back wall. To the left, nearly overlapping the door, was a refrigerator and large separate freezer.  

“Pool table,” you said, lifting up a corner of the tarp to reveal a glossy wood corner. 

Sy smiled a little. 

“Pool house. Cute.” 

“We’re unbearably adorable. We can’t help it,” you said breezily, turning away from him to open the refrigerator door. “Adorable and overstocked with beverages.” 

Every Coke product known to man filled the fridge, accented by bottles of peach tea and cans of lemonade. And…

“Are those Capri-Suns?”

Your eyes widened when you followed his gaze to the three shiny pouches tucked away on the bottom shelf. 

“Huh…” you said softly, turning one over in your hand to check the expiration date. “Why does she even have these?”

“Gotta have all the bases covered, I guess.” 

You hummed, turning your head to look up at him. For half a second, you seemed a little startled at his proximity, blinking rapidly and taking a sharp breath. Sy was doing his best not to crowd you, but there honestly wasn’t enough room for personal space. When he tried to back off a little, all he really managed to do was hip check the pool table and throw off his balance, shrinking the distance even more when you grabbed a handful of his shirt in a quick attempt to steady him. 

There was a pause, neither of you daring to take a breath. The hot, still air of the tiny outbuilding seemed to draw in a little closer, barely cut by the draft from the open refrigerator. 

“Um…” You blinked hard, pulling your hand away like he’d burned you, shuffling to the side to earn a few precious inches of space. 

“Sorry,” he said softly, belatedly. 

“S’okay…” You shook your head a little. “Uh, do you want…?” 

You lifted the little juice pouch still in your hand.

“Sure.” 

It took further rearranging to get the refrigerator door closed again, and Sy tried not to feel too bad at the speed with which you rushed from the building. 

The open air seemed to soothe you a little, the sight of you rolling your shoulders with a deep breath greeting Sy when his eyes readjusted to the bright sunlight. 

That playful confidence crept back over you, a little more tentative but still a sight to see. 

“Are you qualified to open one of these?” you asked, tossing Sy his juice. “Don’t know how much experience you’ve got.”

“Plenty,” Sy said, arching a brow at the smirk that set across your face. “Said what I said.” 

You laughed, reaching to pull the plastic-wrapped straw from the back of the pouch. 

“You sure? You can’t brute force it, ya know. You’ll just stab through both sides and end up with a mess. It takes finesse.”

“I can do finesse.”

He took the straw back from you, making smooth and efficient work of pushing it through the clear plastic circle at the top of the pouch. He took a smug sip, earning a grin from you as you raised your hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine. You have the dexterity of an eight year old. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“No winning with you, is there?”

“No, sir!” you said proudly, glancing quickly towards the back door at the sound of raised voices, your smile fading slightly. “Guess I should escort you to safety.”

You plucked lightly at his sleeve as you headed back towards the gate where his truck was parked. He followed, falling into step beside you.

“Sure you don’t need backup?” 

Through a gap in the curtain, Sy caught sight of Kat, her face pinched, arms crossed. 

“Oh, I’m not going back in there,” you scoffed. “I’ll walk a lap of the neighborhood or something. Go sit by the pond for a bit, maybe.”

Sy hesitated, his steps slowing.

“I could - We could go somewhere, if you want. Give them time to cool off a little.”

You glanced at him curiously.

“Go where?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Wherever. Get a drink or something.”

“Two nights in a row? The town would implode.”

He smiled a little, leaned against the door of his truck. 

“That’s not a no.”

You shot him a look, mouth twisted up in something that looked very promisingly like indecision.

“Should be a no. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

“What’s the wrong idea?”

You let out a slow breath.

“You know I’m only going to be around a couple weeks.”

He hummed, standing up straight again.

“Doesn’t have to be a drink. Could just go for a drive. No getting any wrong ideas about a drive.”

“No wrong ideas about sunset on a backroad?”

Sy cleared his throat.

“No ma’am. We’re in for a platonic sunset tonight. It told me so.”

You laughed, but there was something a little sad in it. 

“Drink your juice and get outta here before I do something stupid, please.”

Sy knew better than to push, but damn if he didn’t like the sound of that. 

“Yeah, alright.” 

You made no attempt to mask the once-over you gave him as he got into the driver’s seat. He risked holding out his hand one last time, rolling down the window before closing the door. 

“Mind if I use that number you gave me? Sometime.”

“I think you’d better.”

He smiled at that, let it be a full one, earned himself a smile back. 

“I’ll do that then. Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.”

Sy lingered a moment longer, taking in the sight of you barefoot on the driveway, a late summer breeze making the hem of your dress dance lazily around your legs. 

You shook your head at him, shooing him away with a smile.

As he pulled out of the driveway, he could see you still standing at the gate, watching him until the truck tail lights were out of sight.

*****

A/N: Thank you for reading! I've really missed this story. Would love, love, LOVE to hear what you think.

Tags: @firstcashheroathlete @melissareadsstuff @juliaorpll78 @mrsevans90 @kajjaka @kebabgirl67 @foxyjwls007 @luckydiorxoxo @just-chirpin @deandoesthingstome @mindingmyownbusiness @summersong69 @endofalldays01 @happydistraction @identity2212 @henryownsme @mysweetlittledesire @islacharlotte @cynic-spirit @mollymal @emily-roberts @mrs-degenerate @sweetandgentlecreature @paintlavillered @geralts-yenn @enchantedbytomandhenry @sillyrabbit81

[flagellant]

How To Be Native American: Five Tips To Acknowledging The Indian In You!

Wonder why you're writing this. Debate with yourself about the form and the function. By making a performance out of your criticism of the inherent performativity of being a white-passing Native, is that denying or adding to the power imbalance that actually white people already have over your life, your identity, your culture? Ponder blood quantum for the seventh time today and really just sit down and ask yourself, "Is this going to be the metaphor that justifies my existence within my culture to white strangers online?" Accept it probably won't be and write this inadvisably anyway. They weren't ever going to get it anyway, but for once, this isn't about them.

Do your research! Take your knowledge and academize it. If you can't cite your sources when you try and explain why this privilege is killing you, are you really a victim of genocide? Or are you just 1/16th Cherokee Princess? FUN FACT: So many people are "Pretendians" that anthropological scholars are trying to examine the psychology behind why! You know why, of course. They feel so alienated from their culture as settlers that they cling to whatever they can, like mud on a duck's bill, steadily reshaping Turtle Island in their image. Remember that by criticizing Pretendians you simply give people more reason to assume you're one. Pretend this is fine.

Read Braiding Sweetgrass again. It won't help, but the words are familiar enough by this point that you can start the grief process a full three chapters ahead of the words you're thinking in your head. Wonder if this is all you'll ever get to have: Stories of dead grandmothers and dead strawberries and dead nations, bones piled upon bones with none of the nitrogen fixing jack shit. Think about how you have never gotten to braid sweetgrass with someone who understands who and what you are. Reread the last few sentences because your tears have blurred the ink so badly at this point it's like trying to be fluent in a language no one will teach you.

Brush your hair out, because you have gingery ringlets rather than sleek, thick flint. Your name is Red Fox Jesus Man and you've only got a little bit of a complex about it. Think about how, when people claim you look like Jesus, they aren't talking about the Middle Eastern Jew, they're talking about the Italian. You aren't even a little bit fucking Italian. Microaggressions are a form of racial validation, right? Especially if they aren't intended to be, right?

Light a candle for your dead grandfather. None of his stories got passed down onto you or your mother or your father. Maybe none of your great-great-grandfather's stories got passed down to him either. This is a comfort, in a selfish, self-destructive way. If you don't know the names of the teachers in the Mission your people were sent to, that is a sort of pyrrhic victory. Not a meaningful one, but scraps will fill your stomach if you settle for enough of them.

[lya-dustin]

Kinslayer, Kingslayer, King

For @hoosbandewan

Aemond x Aegon’s wife! Laenor's daughter!reader(aka a black reader)

Cw: murder, fraticide, regicide, conspiracy, manipulation, infanticide(blood and cheese happened sorry), revenge, whatever murdering your husband is called. Some smut and knife play.

The reader came out rather evil and i love it

You play the dutiful wife all too well.

How could you not when you pretended to be the loyal daughter only to turn on the woman who birthed you for a crown?

Rhaenyra had deserved it, she killed your father to be with Daemon and then named your bastard brother heir over you, her only trueborn child and firstborn. Then there was what she allowed Daemon to do to your only child that night.

Aegon deserved it too, he never knew the woman he had and now he wouldn’t have you nor his crown either. Aegon who took everything for granted and then some more. He had taken you even if Aemond was the one you loved since you were children.

As far as you know, Aegon was the one who killed Rhaenys at Rook’s Rest.

Aemond will finally have what was owed to him.

“It looks better on you than it did, who would’ve thought Aegon’s head would be too small for such a burden.” You whisper as you light a candle to the Stranger.

Orwyle is too vigilant and good at his craft to allow the two of you the chance to finish the job, but nature will take its course soon enough. The moment he is dead, Aemond will seize the crown and you will be his in truth.

Once Aegon is dealt with and his mother put away to keep her from interfering with your glorious reign, you will rain fire and blood on your darling mother and her husband.

Jaehaerys had been killed by Daemon just as he once ordered the death of your father, Ser Laenor. Aemond wonders if Daemon knew the true parentage of the boy seeing he went after him in the first place. Perhaps the man did and that is why your sweet little son was beheaded in his sleep along with his nurse.

You want blood and to salt their wounds as they beg for mercy you will not give.

Aemond will give you another son, one who will not have Aegon named as his father, one that will be king after him. You have always wanted to name your son Aemon. A tribute to your grandmother, to your lineage, and most importantly a reminder that your claim was superior even to that of his dearly departed father.

Viserys and Aegon ruled because of the Great Council, but by tradition the throne should have passed to you had Rhaenys not been passed over for his father.

“Once your mourning period is over, we will be wed and crowned together. Grandsire should’ve have crowned you with him, those loyal to you would have come to our side and your mother left with no choice to surrender.” Aemond will keep this promise, he will not deny you what you are owed. Aegon had not cared about the insult to you, he never cared to respect you and keep his vows and always caved to their manipulative grandfather’s pressures.

Aemond was not weak like him, he rode the largest dragon, he was the true threat to your mother’s crumbling rule and his brother’s underserved crown.

His mother may hate him, but he had you. You who shared his drive and anger and loved him to his bones.

You forgave him for killing your brother, you understood it was an accident in his part, you will forgive him for killing Rhaenys to kill his brother.

“Six moons is too long, my love, I want to wed you now.” You kissed him with great passion, your loss had ignited a fire inside you so hot you no longer knew what to do with it. “I want a son; I need your seed to take once more. Daemon may have won the battle, but I will win this fucking war.”

“No, my darling, we will win this fucking war.” The Prince Regent does not deny you your desires and in the hour of the Wolf you threaten the handmaiden caring for Aegon that night to make his poppy milk strong enough to fell an elephant.

By morning you are a widow, by noon his mother is sent to Oldtown and by the end of the week the two of you are wedded and bedded.

You do not wear black or green, you wear red. Blood red and cut so low it was considered too scandalous for his pious mother. But no matter, those who speak against you will have to voice their complaints with your dragons, and your new husband was the most fearsome of the three.

The fear they have of the two of you keeps tongues from wagging, his mother looks horrified as you lick the dagger he feeds you the best of his plate like a brazen whore.

Alicent’s rule was over, yours had only just begun.

“A dragon cannot change it’s scales,” you use his own dagger to tease him, straddling him and riding him with a torturous pace.

“It is merely our nature.” The new king groans as the cold of the dagger trailing down his throat heightens his own pleasure. He wanted to take his time with you, but your wickedness knows no limits as you push him to the brink of madness.

Aemond is still lost in the haze of his climax, still sheathed inside you as he fills you with his seed, when his own dagger is stabbed into his black heart.

The last words he hears as he dies are, “Did you think I did not know who killed my grandmother, dear husband? Did you think I truly forgave you for killing my little brother and getting our baby boy murdered, sweet boy?

When i said I would win the war, i meant I, alone, would rule."

sequel: The Cruel

[strawberryya]

notice me!

pairing: jihoon x reader

synopsis: Your boyfriend has a hectic life, but he usually has at least a little time to spare for his girlfriend. Now it has been two months since he last spent some alone time with you and you're losing your mind just a little over it... luckily, angry make-up sex can solve any problem!

word count: 2.1k

genre/cw: smut, angry sex, also make-up sex, established relationship, feeling neglected in relationship and bad ways of handling said feeling, unprotected sex, manhandling, light choking, fem reader, musician/producer! woozi.

rating: 18+

a/n: I had a moment a couple weeks ago where I wrote this whole thing in one hour in the middle of the night, and then I forgot about it and now I'm in shock just a little bit... anyhow, yay angry sex with wooziiii

network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

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You watched your boyfriend of two years looking at his phone, scrolling mindlessly across whatever app he found more interesting than his girlfriend sitting on the other end of the couch. You were barely wearing anything, a large t-shirt barely covering the sexy lingerie you had put on for tonight. 

“Jihoon, it’s been two months.” 

You wanted him to notice you. He had barely been home at your shared apartment for weeks. You knew his work was demanding, and that he gave it his all no matter what. But you have been feeling neglected lately. He had been coming home late, crashing on the couch instead of sleeping in your bed. Only giving you a chaste kiss before running off to work the next morning with a groggy “Sorry I missed dinner last night,” as a greeting. 

He hadn’t touched you in two months. You had counted the days, and after three weeks you were wondering if he wasn’t stressing too much about the latest album. After six weeks you had been feeling too horny for your own good, and your toys weren’t fulfilling your needs anymore. You wanted to feel him again. It didn’t matter how many times you came. It didn’t hit the spot. After two entire months of him being abstinent, you had begun getting snarky at the smallest things he did wrong. 

Jihoon looked up from his phone at your statement. He carelessly scratched his chin, making your pussy clench at the memory of those perfect hands being all over your body once upon a time. “Two months? Of what?” 

“Of you acting like a damn nun,” you said, dead serious. 

“A nun?!” He gasped out. 

“Yes! A nun!” You shouted back at him. 

He looked you over, sitting at the other end of the couch, dolled up more than usual and staring at him as if he had offended yuo great grandmother by existing. Then it seemed to click in his mind. “Oh,” was all he said.

Two months? Had it been that long? He knew very well that he had been resisting his urges, but he had managed for two entire months? He had been so busy with the new album, he had been staying late at the studio every day and waking up rushing back to the studio to put the new ideas he got during the night into reality. Two months without sex, and a pissed off girlfriend because of it. 

“I’m sorry?” 

You looked at him like he was an equation, mouth open just a bit as you stared at him in shock. “You’re sorry? What the fuck does that mean?” He was so clueless, you thought as you watched the dumb face he was making. (You still wanted that stupid handsome face of his to eat you out until you cried, but that was besides the point.)

Jihoon knew he had fucked up, you were pissed off and picking a fight, and he hadn’t made it better by not even knowing that he hadn’t slept with you in two whole months. 

“Do you even care? Because you don’t seem to care one bit about it since you didn’t even know! Do you not like me anymore? Are you not attracted to me anymore? Are you in love with someone else? Why the fuck would you go and cheat on me?!”

He stared at you in complete surprise. Cheating? “Hold up- hold up! What are you talking about?!” He said, flabbergasted at the way you seemed to have drawn the most far-fetched conclusions to this problem you could’ve possibly thought of. “I’ve been busy with the comeback! Please, baby, why are you acting crazy?” 

He shouldn’t have said that, he knew it the second the word left his perfectly plump lips. 

“Crazy? Did you just call me crazy? You haven’t seen crazy, you fucking asshole!” You shouted as you stormed out of the room. You were packing your bags, if he didn’t want to be with you anymore you wouldn’t be the one to stop him from moving on and sleeping with whoever else he wanted. Because it sure as hell wouldn’t be you after he had just called you crazy for noticing that he wasn’t interested in you anymore. 

“What are you doing?? Why are you messing up the apartment? Are you leaving?” he shouted, seemingly surprised that you didn’t feel like staying in an apartment that he was hellbent on making a girlfriend-free zone. 

“Yeah, I’m fucking leaving,” you grunt, shoving some shirts into your bag. You wouldn’t be able to grab it all but at least you could make it with the stuff you were throwing into it for a while. Y9ou could always borrow your friends’ stuff until you could get back all your clothes. “You’re pissing me off and I don’t wanna hate you.”

Jihoon was by the bedroom door now, hands pushing his hair out of his face as he watched you angrily packing your bags. How had he fucked up so badly that his girlfriend wanted to leave him like this? 

“Hate me? Baby, I really don’t know what I did to mess up this bad…” 

Of course, he didn’t understand, because apparently, your boyfriend was a freaking master at staying “pure”. He hadn’t even spent a single thought on you and what he could do with you. He only cared about his music. And you wouldn’t be the one to stand in his way if thats how he truly felt. 

“You don’t know?! Look at me Jihoon!” You threw the t-shirt off your body in an angry fit, making your boyfriend’s eyes widen. “I’ve been waiting for you to notice me, to care even a bit about me- about us- for months!! And tonight, I just can’t do this anymore. I’m losing my mind because you won’t fuck me, how stupid is that?” You nearly sobbed as you made it clear that you were frustrated in more than one way. You were so mad at him, and still, you couldn’t help but admire the way he looked so hot even now, his long black hair falling in pretty curls around his face and his lips shiny and pink. He looked so kissable it was like he was teasing you just by existing. 

“You got me all addicted to your cock and then you fucking left me to go through some kind of twisted withdrawal.” 

He gulped, his adam's apple moving in his throat, you didn’t even care to look at him anymore, you were angrily throwing your shit into the bag on the bed yet again, bent over and flaunting the tiny piece of fabric that tried it’s best to cover your ass. “You don’t even care,” you rumbled as you stuffed more things into the bag. He took in the way the lace set hugged your curves deliciously, he had been so busy with everything he hadn’t even noticed his own cravings. He had ignored it all for so long. 

“Shut up.”

His voice was deep, and commanding. Your breath caught in your throat, surprise and need mixing in an arousing blend that went straight to your head. “Excuse me?” Your movements paused completely. When you heard his footsteps approaching you hastily you looked at him, his gaze was darkened, and your core clenched around nothing as he pulled the bag from your grasp. Throwing it on the ground before he pushed your barely clothed body into the bed. 

“You think I don’t fucking care anymore just because you haven’t gotten dick in a couple weeks? Are you that desperate to be stretched like a little whore?” He growled in your ear, his bulge evident in the way he pressed against your ass. “I care, and I see you. So shut up.” 

You gasped at his harsh movements, neediness soaking your panties in record time. God, you were pathetic. 

“I haven’t eaten, I haven’t slept, and I sure as hell haven’t let myself even think about this sweet pussy of yours. I’ve been denying myself it all. But you’re right…” his hand pressed against your throat where you laid face down on the bed, “I’ve been neglecting you. You wanna know why? It’s because I knew that if I so much as looked at you, or held you in my arms while you slept so innocently, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything but fuck your tight little pussy all day and night.” His growling voice set off all kinds of sparks in your core. You needed him, now. 

You pushed your ass up against him, eating a groan from your boyfriend. “Such a little slut,” he mumbled, letting go of your throat and pulling himself back from you completely. You were dizzy from the hold around your throat, his perfect hands remembering just the way you liked to feel them around you. You were about to whine when his touch left your body when you heard the familiar shuffling of his clothes falling off his body. You wanted to see it, take his form in properly after all these weeks. But he was faster, pushing you back down against the bed before you got up. 

His erection pressed against your heat, making you moan as he prodded against the soaked fabric covering your entrance. 

“Jihoon, please,” you mewled, wiggling underneath his firm body. 

“Wanna shut up and let me fuck you then since you’re so fucking needy?” 

“Please, yes! Anything! Please fuck me!” You almost cried as you pleaded with him. 

“Sobbing over cock, you really are such a dirty girl for me.” He groaned as he let his pretty hands smooth over one of your asscheeks, smacking down hard and leaving a burning sting after him. Even that felt good. You needed him more than you had ever needed anything in your life. 

You felt him pull the sticky fabric from your core, pushing it aside in favor of pushing the head of his hard cock against your messy pussy. “I’m about to drown in you later tonight, just you wait.” He whispered before pushing past your entrance, slipping inside, your walls lubing his cock up as he entered. He ignored the way you were so tight it almost hurt to push all the way inside, your moaned pleas for him to go deeper, and the way you were gripping the sheets while he pushed all of himself inside of your dripping heat enough of a reason to push through. It had been so long since he had felt your walls gripping around him that he could’ve spilled his seed into you right then and there. 

He pulled himself together soon enough, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. Your ass which you had pushed up to meet his hips at first had been completely overpowered by the sheer force he was fucking you into the mattress with. You were coming for the first time within minutes. Screaming and sobbing as you finally came around him. He continued, repeating to you what a good toy you were, and how good of a girl you had been for holding out for him this long. 

When you were moaning again, closing in on a second orgasm he told you to come again. Lifting your ass up to balance you on your knees and chest, one of his arms wrapping around your hip to reach your clit, pressing down on it while he let his cock slip in and out effortlessly. Your arousal dripped down your thighs. You came undone and sobbed as he continued to overstimulate your abused cunt. 

He continued fucking you until he couldn’t take it anymore, his own orgasm crashing into him with such force it knocked the breath from his lungs. 

“That was one hell of an apology,” you said, breathless and still leaking cum, exhausted after having all your pent-up frustrations released all at once like this. 

Jihoon chuckled, a sound you had missed these past weeks as well. He really had been unusually absent in your life. It wasn’t just about the sex, you had missed him a lot. “I’m sorry for not being around as much,” he said, dragging a gentle hand over your back. You hadn’t had the energy to move a once from the position he had dropped your hips from once he had pulled out. 

“I just missed you, I’m sorry for lashing out.” 

“Don’t worry about it, just… next time you should just ask me to fuck you instead of threatening to leave me.”

You were embarrassed now, you had acted like a complete maniac, but my god - if that’s how he fucked a maniac, you wanted to stay crazy for the rest of eternity. 

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

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[novelsbynia]

GEMINI:PROLOGUE

Ethan Landry X OC

Warning: blood,language,pregnancy,violence, mentions of smut.

——————————————

October 31st Halloween

"Great Job. Both of you." Bailey praised the two Ghost faces on both his right and left. "You?" Tara asked shocked. The three sisters stood there across from Bailey and the two masked figures. "Yeah. Of course me. Frankly, I expected more from the three of you after what you did to us."

"What do you mean "us"?" Scar looked at the two Ghost faces, still curious who was behind the masks. The taller Ghostface on Baileys left grabbed the bottom of their mask to slowly reveal the culprit underneath.

Scarlett's heart stopped for second and her breath hitched. Her throat felt warm and if she swallowed it could cause a breakdown. Seeing her boyfriend's face come out from under the white plastic. She started to shake her head in disbelief as Ethan shot a sadistic smile their way.

"Ta-da!" Bailey laughed looking over at the three sisters and back at his son. "No." Scarlett whispered. Sam and Tara looked over at their sister. Sam knew her pain. It's a horrible feeling knowing the person you love was the one who wants to hurt you. What they didn't know was there was more to it than their relationship now.

"Mindy was right. It was easy to juke the roommate lottery. I mean all I had to do to meet you was room with a conceited, condescending alpha literally named Chad. Fuck! It felt good to kill him! And you-" Ethan pointed his knife over to Scarlett. "You know how easy it was to make you love me." Ethan laughed causing Scarlett's heart to once again drop.

"Didn't take much after that to fuck me. Did it?" She felt sick, unfortunately for her in this situation it could be a number of things. Her eyes letting the tears escape her quietly as she stood there in disbelief as the two stood their smiling.

"Recognize this? This was your grandmother's Sam. Nancy Loomis? Really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it? Speaking of family...." Ethan pointed his knife the the beat up Ghostface mask he's been gallivanting in. "Wait for it." Bailey interrupted. ".....My names not Ethan Landry. Is it dad?"

""Dad"?" Scarlett questioned as Bailey started laughing. He brushed a piece of Ethan's hair out of his eyes then gripped his shoulder. He was proud. "Wait. If it's you two, that just leaves..." Sam Gulped before continuing. "Mindy?"

The last Ghostface lifted the mask revealing the final accomplice. "Hey, roomies. You didn't see that one coming, did you?" The three were taken back. No, no that couldn't be possible. She was dead, Quinn was dead. Scarlett took her attention away from the redhead back to her boyfriend or now ex in his dark robe. Their eyes met and Ethan shot her a smirk.

"Yeah because you died!" Tara exclaimed. "Kind of didn't. Though it was a good way to get off the suspect list. Stab Gale Weathers, stab Mindy on the train. That sort of thing." Quinn explained. "Yep, and I just made sure I was first on the scene so I could switch her body out with a fresh one. Little fake blood, a prosthetic. You'd be amazed at what a grieving father can get away with." Bailey smiled proud of his children.

"I got Stu Macher's mask. He was my favorite." Quinn held up her mask as she walked around the display cases and placed it on the mannequin head. Scarlett watched Ethan go around the display on her right and place the mask on the mannequin with Nancy Loomis's old bloody clothes.

Scarlett watched as he gave her a quick wink with his once lovable browns. Which have turned to an unrecognizable dark cold tone. "Nice. That's number three. That's two. Which leaves your father's. This is what we've been counting down to, Sam. I'm gonna need you to put it on." Bailey pulled out Billy Loomis's mask out of his jacket. Scarlett was trying to focus back and forth from Bailey back to Ethan. Who was perched over the display with hunger, ready to attack given the word.

Sam looked at the mask in Bailey's hand then back up at Bailey himself. He had to be crazy. Clearly he was Sam thought to herself. "Fuck you!" Sam spat as she knocked the mask out of Bailey's hand. Ethan quickly leaned over the display and sliced Sam's shoulder. "You stay the fuck away from them!" Scarlett yelled at Ethan as Sam held her wound. Ethan chuckled at Scarlett as he moved around the displays. Tara grabbed a brick back up from the floor ready incase she had to strike.

"What? What is this? You did this as a family?" Sam turned to Bailey as she held her bleeding shoulder. "Hell yeah, bitch. You should know better than anyone." Quinn stomped forward towards Sam but was quickly cut off by Tara and Scarlett.

"They're still not getting it." Ethan laughed as he walked over next to his sister. Knife extended ready to strike again. Scarlett looked down at his knife then back up at Ethan and Quinn. "I don't know what you believe, but I didn't commit those murders in Woodsboro. It wasn't me!" Sam tried to explain. "Oh we know that. Of course you didn't. You think this is based on some bullshit conspiracy theory? Come on. Who do you think started the rumors about you in the first place?" Bailey gestured behind Sam. Sam turned around to see Quinn holding up her hand with the knife in it.

"Do you know how easy it was to turn Sam from the hero of Woodsboro into the villain? How easy it was to convince the world to believe the worst in people rather than the best?" Quinn explained. "Because it's not enough to just kill someone these days. You have to assassinate their character first. So when Dad here "discovers" your horribly mutilated bodies..." Ethan started.

Scarlett gulped the pressure in her throat back down as she listened to Ethan talk about mutilating them. Her thoughts were paused when Quinn lunged forward a bit in front of Tara causing her to squeal. "...posed with Sam wearing her father's mask, he'll say some poor dumb bastard read on the internet that you're the real Ghostface and took matters into their own deluded hands." Ethan finished as he pointed the knife at Sam.

"Exactly! Thats why it's the perfect alibi. And all the best lies are based on the truth. You're a killer. Just like your father." Bailey pointed his finger at Sam. "No, I'm not!" Sam yelled. "Yes, you are, you motherfucker! You killed our brother!" Quinn shouted.

"What are you talking about?" Sam shook her head. "You said your brother died in a car accident." Scarlett looked at Quinn confused. "Oh no, you sweet, dumb thing. He died in Woodsboro...." Ethan pointed his knife at Scarlett then back at Sam "...at the hands of your bitch sister." Scarlett looked over at Sam and Tara who had the look of realization on their faces."You're Richie's family." Sam turned to Bailey. "Yeah." Bailey whispered as he slowly nodded.

"Ding-ding-ding-ding! She's finally starting to get it." Ethan stepped forward and plunged his knife in Sam's chest near her shoulder before quickly pulling it out. "Go! Go!" Scarlett grabbed Sam's hand as Tara followed. Scarlett pushed over the mannequin display of Nancy Loomis's mask and outfit to create an opening in the display circle that was once blocking them in.

"Now! It wasn't until I saw that photograph of what you'd actually done to him that I knew." Bailey yelled. Ethan and Quinn quickly ran around the display on either side to block off the two. Scarlett grabbed a brick off the ground. Ethan stepped towards her but quickly stepped back dodging a swing from Scarlett. "That I knew you had to fucking die! You had to be punished! Along with anyone else who stands in our way."

Sam applied pressure to her arm once more as she stepped in front of Quinn blocking her from Tara and Scarlett. Sam's eyes darkened as she looked glanced up at Quinn. "There she is. There's the fucking killer." Quinn held her knife up to Sam's throat. "Real great parenting job by the way." Scarlett snarked at Bailey. "Shut your whore fucking mouth!" Quinn yelled as she took the knife away from Sam's throat and pushed Scarlett back through the whole they created in the display ring. "Shit." Tara muttered as the two followed their sister. "You okay?" Sam helped her Scarlett up. Ethan and Quinn quickly made their way back to the sisters, holding their knives up behind them.

"Have I been a perfect Dad? No. Have I maybe overindulged Richie's love of these little movies? Yeah, maybe. For me, they're just a little dark. But Richie really loved them. He loved them! He even made a few of his own. Did you know? Did you know?" Bailey turned around to watch the projector behind them play Richie's self made Stab movie.

"There's a very special nod between a father and his first son." Bailey added. Scarlett turned her head to see Ethan behind her. A frown on his face he was trying not to let show, tears in his eyes he was trying to now let fall. He's attention was drawn to the curtain with the projection above them. His eyes landed back down on Scarlett. Thats when she knew. He was doing this not only for Richie.

"Which is why I helped him build this collection." Bailey turned around gesturing to all the artifacts around them. "This was all his?" Tara asked looking at the displays around her. "Yes, he's a very passionate collector. And he inspired others. We had to kill those two wannabe film students because, well, we had to kill you first, Sam. I put the theater in their name, then good ole Detective Bailey would've just stumbled on it. But I didn't have to because, by golly, that Gale Weathers is one hell of a journalist. I built a tribute to my son. Which is why this is where you have to die, Sam. Surrounded by all the things he loved the most." Bailey explained.

"What happens next? After you're done with us you just disappear?!" Sam exclaimed. "No! We got to hurry over to the hospital and make sure Mindy and Gale don't pull through..." Sam looked over at her sisters and down at their hands. A brick in each then back up at the two. "....because everybody dies Sam! Everyone who had anything to do with the death of my son suffers and dies." Bailey lifted his gun up to Sam.

"Yeah!Fuck yeah they do!" Quinn yelled. "Now put on the mask." Bailey hissed. "He was so pathetic." Sam panted as she shook her head. "What?Thats not true." Bailey objected."Yeah, your son, he was a man-baby who made his girlfriend so all the killing." Sam continued to taunt.

"He was a strong, virile young man!" Bailey gripped his gun harder. "He was a limp-dick little fuck who cried before I slit his throat." Sam spat. "Shut the fuck up!" Quinn yelled as she lunged forward to Sam. Scarlett quickly gripped the brick and swung at Quinn knocking her to the ground coughing up her own blood. Suddenly the sound of gun shots rang through the air. The three turned to see Kirby firing off. Bailey quickly made his way behind the curtain to another hallways escaping the shots.

Quinn used all her strength at the current moment and lifted herself up off the ground. She tried her best to run behind the curtain to follow her father. "Sam come on!" Tara yelled as her and Scarlett tried to make a run for it. Ethan sprinted towards Kirby and quickly threw her to the ground. He grabbed another knife in the pockets of his robe.

"Recognize this?" Ethan held up the older scarlet covered blade. "Fuck you." Kirby spat. Ethan in one swift movement jabbed the knife into Kirby's abdomen. Ripping the flesh of the scar before it. "Fuck" Kirby groaned.

Grabbing a brick from the rubble on the ground beside her, Sam ran up behind Ethan. Who was currently still taunting Kirby from above her. She rammed the side of his head with the brick causing Ethan to fall over in pain. Sam hurried over to Kirby lying on the ground, knife in her old scar. "Sorry, but I kind of need this." Kirby groaned as Sam quickly grabbed the knife lodged in Kirby's abdomen."Fuck em up." Kirby panted.

"Sam come on!" Scar yelled as her and Tara stood by the end of the ladder next to the wall to lead them upstairs. Sam put the knife in her belt then froze. She looked over to Ethan on the ground unconscious. Now was her time. He was out, he couldn't fight back. Sam turned to look back at her sister waiting by the ladder.

Tara anxiously waiting for her to move while Scarlett looking at her and back at Ethan. Her eyes full of fear and worry. Sam looked back at Ethan. "Damn it." She muttered before turning back at the two.

"Go! Go! Go! I'll meet you up there!" Sam told them. Tara hesitated as her hands froze on the wood.

"Where are you going?" Scarlett asked. "Scarlett just  go!" Sam yelled before disappearing through the curtain on the stage.

"Tara go!" Scarlett instructed as her sister started climbing the ladder. Once Tara hit the top she turned toward her sister below. "Go! I'm right behind you." Tara nodded once again at her sister's instructions and started making her way down the hallway. Scarlet grabbed the sides of the older wooden ladder climbing the first two steps.

"Where do you think you're going?" Ethan grabbed Scarlett's right leg as she went for the third step. Grabbing her hard as he tugged her down the ladder. "No. No. No." Scarlett pleaded as she hit the ground trying to get away. Ethan reached down and with his left, he grabbed Scarlett by the throat. Ethan lifted her up and slammed her against the wall next to the ladder.

"Hi there, Princess. I was hoping I would get just one more time with you alone. Remember the last time I had you pinned against a wall?" Ethan smirked. "Fuck you." Scar gasped as Ethan's hand applied pressure. "No, no, no sweetheart we already did that remember?" Ethan chuckled.

Scarlett flinched as Ethan quickly brought his knife up to the brick on the wall behind her. The sound of scraping rang through Scarlett's ear. His grip getting tighter on her throat. "Ethan." Scar moaned trying to get more air.

"Sounded like that too." Ethan brought his lips to her ear close to his knife. "Why? Why me? Why do this?" Scarlett asked. "Were you not paying attention? At all!" Ethan exclaimed. "You know that's not what I meant." Scarlett needed to know.

She knew this wasn't the same Ethan she had learn to love. That Ethan was just a mirage. She needed to know why he would do this though. Why take the extra step to be with her? "Consider it plot."

"You know doing this isn't going to make your dad love you more." Scarlett's words snapped something inside him. He took her body off the wall only to slam it back into it again. Scarlett groaned in pain as she felt the sting in the back of her head from the bricks. "I don't need him to love me."

"It really seems like you do. Like you're doing this for him not for you." Her words weren't helping his anger as it was starting to spill over. "I'm doing this for me you bitch!"

"Scar! Scarlette! Scar!" Scarlett could hear her sisters call out for her. Tears slowly escaped her eyes. Ethan took his thumb and wiped away her ongoing tears. She could feel the cold metal of the knife. The knife with her sister's blood on it on the side of her face. With the same hand he's using to wipe her tear could be the same one to kill her any second.

"I want you to know I did love you at some point." Ethan leaned his forehead onto hers. The words made Scarlett's tears fall faster. "Ethan. Ethan I-" Scarlett stuttered. "But that's just not enough." Scarlett saw Ethan move his hand back with the knife ready to plunge. Panic set in her. She didn't want to but she knew what she had to do. She went into full panic mode as she yelled-

"ETHAN!! NO WAIT!! I'M PREGNANT!"

————————————————————

Chapter one up now!!!

[rs-hawk]

So just saw your post about not voting for trump. Good post. He's not a white nationalist though. Real white nationalists respect indigenous people. Place for every race and all that. He's just the run of the mill politician who says what he thinks will give him the most voters. Anyway, you'd probably be better treated by a white nationalist government lol.

This has been sitting in my ask box for like a month but just... Damn. This is wild.

You're telling me that I, a queer mixed Indigenous AFAB person who technically can be considered disabled, am respected by... White Supremacists? White Supremacists want me dead. I live in Texas. I come in contact with White Supremacists literally on a near daily basis.

They are the first ones to throw slurs at me. They are the first to say I should go back to my own country (and then say Reservation when I say that this is my country). They are the first ones to literally throw things at me at my day job. I have had people who I know for a fact are literally, LITERALLY, in the KKK, come into my job and ask why someone like me is working up front in a public establishment.

Again, I am mixed race. White Supremacists often either hate me off the bat because they know I'm mixed or see me as a minority and me simply existing in the same space as them is an affront. However, when they think I'm full White (as I am Italian and have been told I pass as Italian), and then find out I'm mixed it's so much worse. They take it as I lied to them. I had one customer at work a few years ago that we kind of flirted, and he was talking about taking me out when my job slowed down. I mentioned something off handedly about turquoise jewelry a few visits later, and he asked if I was "Indian". When I said yes, a total 180. He started accusing me of lying to him, saying I wanted to taint his blood line, blah blah blah.

Here's what you need to understand, sticking up for White Supremacists is just as fucked as being one. White Supremacists don't respect Indigenous Peoples. They want us gone. They want us somewhere they never have to see us. Reservations are not something we got out of respect. We have Reservations because we were forced to and it was all we were allowed. This is my ancestral land, and they still think I should be forced to live in another state because the government decided over a century ago (as the Nation I'm registered with was one of the last to be forced onto a Reservation) because they want to live here, in America, on traditional land, without wanting to see us.

White Supremacists don't respect us or any minorities. They want us out of their face. "A place for all races" just means out of their face or in what they consider in our place. A White Supremacist government is what created Reservations in the first place. A White Supremacist government is what forced my great grandmother's grandfather to be born on the side of the road during the march to the Reservation.

I am a firm believer that America is a Melting Pot. I am mixed race. I am proud of every aspect of who I am. I can list every ethnicity/race I am as I and my family are firm believers in knowing where you come from. As a child, my mom would quiz me on what I was and what side of my family it came from. It is important to know who and what you are. I have no issue with people being proud of who they are. There is no issue with wanting to only date/marry inside your culture imo. I don't have a problem with that. What is a problem is that White Supremacists (which is what I was calling Trump in my previous post) don't do that. They think they are better than other races. They don't want to even interact with other races. They. Are. Racist. And so is Trump. He called on the Proud Boys, a known White Supremacist group. Be serious.

[bloodywickedlips]

Gift or a curse

Summary: Y/N was born with a gift, a gift to see the dead and when one ghost doesn't want to leave her alone she approaches the team with a message but it doesn't go as planned.

Now when you ask me sometimes and by sometimes I actually mean 99% of the time you keep to yourself and don’t speak up if you have the gift that I have.

But let me start from the beginning.

My name is y/n and we have a gift running in our family, neither my mom or my gran got the gift but my great grandmother had it, you see we can see and speak to the dead.

Its misunderstood in the world we live in, so we keep to ourselves and don’t talk about it, I learned my lesson with that one when I opened up to a then boyfriend and he freaked out on me calling me a freak and a lunatic. So after that I kept it to myself and never looked for a boyfriend again, he showed me not to trust any man with my heart.

But everywhere I walked they were there, trying to get a message to a loved on. At age 28 I had mastered the ability to shut them out when I needed to.

And on this morning as I was waiting to get a coffee I saw one of them, I made the mistake to look at her and she noticed. Since then she followed me around, constantly talking to me and trying to get me to respond. I shut my eyes and breathed out slowly as I shut her out. Breathing a sigh of relief I rolled my shoulders and continued with my day.

By the end of my work shift I was ready to let off some steam, and I knew the perfect bar to go to. My job didn’t make it easier as I was a nurse and there tend to be a lot of ghosts roaming around.

I stepped into the bar freshly showered and ready to have some fun but I would soon realize it would come to an end.

On drink number five I heard her voice again as I was dancing. “Please I know you can hear me, I need your help” she said and I rolled my eyes trying to just relax.

“Please help me” she said again and I huffed as I turned to look at her, she was pretty, and young.

“leave me alone, I can’t” I said to her and walked to the bar to order another drink. “You don’t understand, I need to get a message to someone. Please…” she desperately asked me and I stared at her.

“I’m just trying to have fun, and you ruining it” I said and then realized there was a tall black man staring at me strangely. I pointed to my ear which happed to have a earphone in, for cases like this.

“Friend is annoying me when I'm trying to have fun” I explained and saw him nod, not sure if he was buying it.

“You see I cant here” I said as the man walked away. “No please, I just need you to talk to him then I will leave you alone” she explained and I shook my head. “Sometimes its better not talking to them, it makes the grieving worse” I explained to her but she gave me a pointed look and I knew she was not going to leave me alone.

“Fine, who is it?” I asked and she gave me a small smile, turning she pointed to a group of people. And here I was hoping it was someone sitting alone drowning in their sorrows.

I drank my drink quickly and walked over to the table with her right next to me.

“Excuse me? Can I talk to you for a second?” I asked the guy and watched as he turned to face me.

Tall, beautiful brown eyes…no golden eyes with dark circles around them. Brownish hair that looked soft to the touch and a calculating expression on his face.

“Is something wrong?” he asked me and it took me a few seconds to get my head on straight.

“Yes, no I mean no. nothing is wrong, I would just like to speak to you privately” I said and looked around the table to see all of the group was staring at me, including the black guy from the bar.

“No sweetheart that’s not a good idea” the black man said and I arched my eyebrow at him.

“No problem” I said and turned to go back to having fun but the girl was standing in front of me.

“You didn’t even try…please” she said and I hung my head in annoyance. “For fuck sakes” I said to myself and turned back to the group.

“I have a message for you, so please if we could talk alone” I said to the man again and that’s when everyone went stiff and looked at each other.

“Who are you?” the blonde lady asked and I rolled my eyes. “Please I am just trying to enjoy my night, I have a message for him and the quicker he hears it the quicker I can be left alone” I said and gasped as suddenly I was pulled backwards, my hands behind my back.

I was being handcuffed and led out of the bar. “What the fuck, get off of me!” I shouted not understanding. Everyone was silent as I kept screaming and trying to get loose but nothing helped and twenty minutes later I found myself in a private room, handcuffed to the table.

I looked around and saw the girl standing there and glared at her. “You could have told me they are FBI then I would have approached them differently” I hissed at her and saw her look down feeling bad.

“Who are you talking to?” a voice said and I looked up to see an older gentleman walk in with a case file, mine probably.

“Someone who needs to give more information” I replied and watched as he sat down.

“You are something very different, you have a record. You told the police three times where bodies were, without an explanation and each time you were let go cause they couldn’t pin you to any of the murders, so tell me how is that possible?” he asked me with a hard stare and I shook my head.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you” I said and he sat back while crossing his arms. “Try me” he countered and I banged my head on the table not believing this was how I was going to spend my night.

“Just let me talk to the tall one, then you will understand and let me go” I pleaded but he wasn’t giving in.

“I have a message for him and only him, send him in or let me go home” I said to him but he wasn’t doing anything. I got angry and swiped my case file off of the table and gasped as he took hold of my wrists, it sent a shock through me and I groaned in pain. “Stop…stop please” I cried out as I saw the flashes behind my own eyes. He let go and I tried to slow my breathing.

“I just want a peaceful life” I whispered out and felt a tear run down my cheek from the pain I experienced. “Then tell me the message” he said and I looked over to the corner to the girl.

“Thomas merton” I replied what she said and watch hotch frown and a few seconds later the door opened. “What did you say?” he asked and my eyes met the brown ones. “Thomas merton” I said again and saw him go still.

“How, how do you” he trailed off and I closed my eyes for a second and looked at him again. “Because I have a message for you” I said and followed his every move as he walked over and sat down.

“Reid you can’t…” the older man said but he shook his head. “Please I need to hear this” he said and the older man nodded and left the room.

“How do I know this is the truth?” he asked me and I looked to the girl again. “Spencer, you are spencer Reid” I said and he shook his head looking desperate. “That’s easy, google” he replied coldly back to me.

“Thomas…” “I KNOW THAT!” he shouted at me and it made me jump. “Let me finish” I said and started again. “Thomas, she can never take him from the two of you, Diane I mean. Not your mother Diana, you read a lot and your IQ is very high.” I said and he looked bewildered. “What did I never say back over the phone?” he asked and I waited and sighed as I replied. “I love you” I said and saw tears well up in his eyes.

“It’s her…” he said and I nodded softly “Maeve yes, she is here” I said and watched as the tears fell down his cheeks.

“She wants me to tell you she is okay, there is no pain and she is worried about you. You bought something recently and she doesn’t want you to relapse. Things didn’t work out but she is always there, watching” I said and sat and watched as spencer broke down into sobs.

“I’m sorry Maeve, I didn’t save you” he said and I shook my head.

“No, you did everything you could. She is proud of you after everything but she doesn’t want you to harm yourself, she wants you to be happy, find your happiness again” I said and looked at Maeve to see her smiling with own tears running down her cheeks. “Tell him I will always watch but I need to go now, if he feels down he should read our book” she said and I took spencer’s hand in my own.

“she is ready to go into the light but she will always watch over you, and if you are sad read your book, the special book” I said and watched as his eyes widened. “No she cant go yet…” he said and I smiled sadly. “It’s time spencer” I said and he nodded sadly. “Tell her that I love her” he said and I smiled. “She can hear you, and she loves you too” I said and shuddered as I felt her cross over into the light. “Is she?” he asked and I nodded softly and watched as more tears run down his cheeks.

“Spencer she had the message for a reason, and she wouldn’t stop until I gave it to you” I said and he wiped his tears knowing I was right. He stood up and unlocked my cuffs. “You can go” he said and I laughed lightly. “I wish I could but I have one more message” I said and he looked over to me curiously. “From Haley, she’s here for Aaron” I said and knew I was in for a long night as I experienced her pain for myself when Aaron touched me.

[tamtuliko]

Tyme, dear, revenger Tyme.

As we are heading to the end, we must talk about Tyme. Now that we saw the real timeline and have a prove how messed and fucked up Great is, we must take a look in Tyme's life.

Look, I'm not saying that Great is a bad person, he is not, he is broken, neglected, lost child who has problems with his emotions, he is rich kid whose family members are assholes and his choice of friends need to be questioned, but again Rich, spoiled kids are sticking together right? Title is rich, spoiled, wicked as well, killed his classmate, locked his girlfriend, and I don't think that it's his first time, as well as Great's. They have done many bad things, but remember what Tyme said: depends on how rich you are, you can get away even with murdering someone, even if it was an accident. So, no, guys, Great is not good or bad, Great is a tragic child.

But I want to talk about Tyme. Let's see what we have:

•dead perents

•grandmother with whom he has strong bond

•Girlfriend - ex, but they've been together pretty long, right? She said Tyme had changed in the last two years.

•friend - s.

My wild guess is that, two years ago, before the real-time line, Tyme found out how his parents were killed, finding the diary his mother wrote. We have seen pictures of him and his mother, alive, innocent, and happy. I think even after his parents' death, he and his grandmother were happy. The old lady did say that she wanted to see Happy Tyme again, that he was happy before. Even if they didn't have money, they still had each other, Tyme was getting his doctor degree, he had a strong relationship with a beautiful girl and had friends. So Tyme was happy, he was not alone. Until he finds the diary and all the hell breaks. I guess he started his search and planned the revenge. With this, he lost interest in other things. His happiness was lost, and his whole life became an idea of revenge.

This is the Tyme me meet. We have not seen happy, carefree, having girlfriend Tyme. We see anger, no emotional strings, cold Tyme, the one who has no interest in his girlfriend, she broke up, and he was standing drinking coffee.

I mean, look at him ,he gives no fuck.

And then an opportunity, a golden one appears in front of him, kind of God itself send him gift. BTW this is the gift:

Fucked up son of his enemy. And the whole plan was born in his pretty head. Let's seduce, fuck him, film it and put it out on porn site. Tyme, darling you said you did your search about Great, tf you thought he would care about anything. Here is Tymes first mistake. He doesn't get Great at all. He doesn't know how wicked this kid was. But he learned.

And Tyme went and forgot all human side of himself. Went straight to Great and seduce him (btw his pick-up lines in every timeline are garbage, dude seriously🤣)

So they fucked, and the way it was shown, we can see that even it is for revenge, they both very much enjoy it. If Tyme didn't enjoy it, he wouldn't be caressing Great's body. It's a simple anatomy. If you don't like or feel anything towards someone, you won't get a turn-on. What we saw is that both of them are turned on beyond belief. They fuck (not make love, like Great's timeline). Tyme filmed it and here, he had second thoughts about posting it. We see how he is fighting to himself and the morals he once had. But then he sees the photograph, bright, alive, happy, and he goes with his revenge.

And here he miscalculated another thing again, Great, who he thought, will never appear in front of him appears and chases after him, like lost puppy/kitten , he is.

See Tyme ignored Great with not answering him, but Great, the brat he is goes after him. I guess that D was good, but he is intrigued. Someone was able to stand up his father. Even his mom, Korn they obey his father, but we've got Tyme who did something crazy and Great is interested. Again, it doesn't make him a good person. So they go on dinner, and here Tyme sees it, understands it: he was wrong about Great. Look at his face:

The disbelief in his eyes. He is like wtf kid.

Tyme, with all his glory plan, understands the small mistake: Great can't be controlled, can't be used, because he doesn't care. And he understands the tragedy of this child, because he is child, he was brave to come and find Tyme, when he was told to go home if he doesn't want to eat in cheap place, he didn't, he said that he will eat, he cant even eat spicy food and yet, just to be near Tyme, to have more time with him, Great choose to eat it. This is a child who doesn't want to be left alone, who is lonely and doesn't know how to be a normal human being, cause around him there are no people with morals.

And Tyme does what Tyme can do, leaves Great, cause he can't be responsible for Great, he can't deal with Great, for Great it is a game, for Tyme it is revenge and his life on line. Nans life, his grandmother's life. For Great: just a game, where he will enjoy a good fuck and make his dads life miserable, but the same the cure of his loneliness.

So Tyme leaves. Without looking back.

See, Tyme is not a good person, but again, he is not bad either. Tyme is also a very tragic character, a person who couldn't move on. He is supposed to be a doctor, saving life, and must have morals. Yet we have a doctor, with not many emotions, trying to be a doctor for money, and not happy at all. The irony, right? He must be saving life's, instead he is losing one's.

Tyme is tragic because he can't save Nan, and he does blame himself, but all anger he takes out on Great. And yes, Great could've saved Nan, but he is a coward and didn't, but Great saved Tyme. Because he is genuinely interested in Tyme, he is emotionally connected (onesided) with him. So he couldn't stand Tymes' death. We saw that he had no problems with other people dying. He developed feelings, and Tyme might be bad with plans, but I think he knows about Greats one-sided interest in him (not love).

Here is one thing I liked in Tyme, instead of using that one-sided interest, he did one right thing, showed Great his own cowardence. Told him how weak he is. They said awful things to each other. Great telling Tyme to go die, Tyme telling Great that he deserves to go to hell.

See, they are not good at all, but they are not bad either.

The society they live in is garbage. And they are tragic characters who could've saved each other. Instead, they will be the end of each other.

I don't know what can be more tragic than this.

Two souls, trying their hard to live, but....

Well, they are gonna die, there is no doubt. I just hope they can find their ways to each other, forgive each other. In the end, we are all humans. We can learn on our own mistakes. And try and live our life without regrets. There might be no second chance.

We are still going to see Tymes regrets, his and Greats cardiac arrest is going same time, so they are gonna meet again, they are going to have their own 4 minutes, and one of them will be saved and another will die, or both of them will be dying moving to another life. My brain is on 🔥.

My bet is on Tymes' death. He did see door opening and light. Typical afterlife entrance. But again, this drama is not a typical one, so two more weeks...

P.S

They are giving me butterflies 🦋

[yippeeometer]

Yippeeometer, Im gonna need those Mass headcanons please and thank you

IVE WAITED YEARS FR THIS DAY!!!!!! MASSHOLES RISEEE!!!!!!!! WE MAY NEVER SEE OUR FAMILIES FOR BOSTON TRAFFIC GODDAMNIT BUT WE ARE PROUD!!!!!!!

incapable of normalcy and i truly mean that.

look theres a very specific vibe to mass and its 'will call in a bomb threat to get himself out of doing stuff he hates'

I HATE HIMMMM

so insane he's beyond dark humor atp that man grew up with puritans trying to convince him nothing was fun and now makes ass jokes for a living. what a 180.

oh and hes irritatingly cool even though hes such a dick. he's got big beautiful eyes and youre laughing along even though hes absolutely mocking u.

sports arent just sports its his way of life. which is why he wants to DIE because the red sox SUCK BALLS

sat there like a renaissance painting of despair in a dark room as the red sox fumble another game. phone illuminated w/ ny and nj sending him videos of the play with the sound of their laughter pasted on top.

'jock mass' 'nerd mass' get real he would be that one guy on the school newspaper that gets banned within the week for posting articles that are wayyyyy too radical to be necessary

he's be a journalist i fear. i fear he turns up to ur press conference and tears instantly spring to ur eyes bc hes got this shiteating grin that just says hes going to drag yours and your grandmothers name through the mud.

yk what i dont even fear. i am PROUD. no better job for a petty hoe than to write thinly veiled insults all day everyday.

sat there cackling into his computer describing one of maine's books as 'so bad its become a hatecrime to a group that doesnt exist' whilst maine actively tries to throttle him

hes such a MESSY BITCH INSTIGATOR. killing him with a rock until he's dead.

i could go on and on and i shall. man collects degrees, but not for fun as we may presume. its to win arguments against people so he can just casually pull out 'as someone w a phd-'

ok sue me he and rado would be great together. bc mass the type of guy to need to be the most impressive person in the room and anythig's impressive when youre stoned. rado sat there gasping in shock as he ties his shoelaces. gay.

if theres one mental image i have of him its that he claims that coats are for pussies to piss of ny and then spends the next 100 years only wearing t shirts and jeans. catches hypothermia 10 billion times. virginia interrogated daily for his taste in men.

ok furthermore and he cant drive. have u ever been to boston. its like a fucking psa on how to die most efficently.

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Little Red Rapscallion

Gender Neutral Reader x Jack Howl Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: 'Dear Evil, Overlord, Patron. Please stop sicking your demon guard dog on me. I'm only trying to help. Kind Regards, Little Red Ridinghood'

A/N: Thank you so much to @insideous-beez for the brain rot, which became brain fertilizer, and eventually a functional story; This one is a bit darker than the other installments due to the Warlock/Evil Deity goodness, so there is a bit more horror here!

[PART 1]

Your grandmother had always told you to mind your manners when it came to the creatures who made the forest their home.

Or, well. That was a lie. Many lies, really. If you wanted to be nitpicky.

Firstly, the old crone who lived deep within the borough of the cursed trees wasn’t actually your grandmother. At least, not in the biological sense that seemed to matter most within your little, provincial, town. She was just a kindly, wrinkled, turnip of a woman who found you wandering the mudflats one day and decided she liked your spunk and general lack of self-awareness. She patted your head, served you strange, bubbling, teas laced with sweet magics, and always returned you to your fretful parents by sundown. And so, she was Grandma. Even if calling her that aloud made your parents go nearly green and had the local shopkeepers crossing themselves and spritzing you with Holy Water.

Secondly, Grandma had never told you to keep to your manners. Usually, she encouraged the opposite. (‘Why not curse them, huh?’ she’d complain loudly. ‘They’re thieving bastards, the lot of them.’ ‘Grandma,’ you’d sigh. ‘The street cleaners are just doing their job. They didn’t mean to steal your dead racoons.’) The idea of her demanding you act ‘proper’ and ‘kind’ was damn near laughable. But what she did enforce upon you with all the firmness of a world-weary teacher was the concept of not fucking with that which ought not be fucked with.

And the sprawling, Shaftland Forest was not to be fucked with.

It had always been a great, creeping, thing. The trees would groan and whisper as you passed, and when their sharp branches tangled in your cloak like grasping fingers, it never felt like an accident. The animals that lived beneath those trees were even stranger—wild, large, beasts with glinting eyes and an arcane mysticism about them that left icicles in their tracks even on summer days, or tangled the undergrowth into something that moved.

The people of your village did not enter the Shaftland Forests. They put up signs, and wards, and spun cautionary tales to every traveler who dared step even a single foot into their teeny, terrified, homestead.

You visited regularly. Because you were half-stupid at least, and because Grandma lived in those woods. And while she’d cautioned you about treating her habitat with care, she’d promised ages ago that so long as you were sweet to the forest, it would forever be sweet on you too.

‘There is a great power in these trees,’ she’d hum to you, as she stirred a simmering pot that looked to be filled with the blood of… something you probably shouldn’t think too hard about. ‘You would have been a lovely gift for it, you know.’ She laughed under her breath. It didn’t sound like a joke. ‘But you were too precious to ruin like that. So he decided we ought to keep you.’

You had no idea who ‘he’ was supposed to be, but you always made sure to shower the forest with compliments. As thanks for not using you as whatever being a, uhm, lovely gift entailed. ‘Oh what nice leaves you have,’ you told many a tree. ‘And what large petals have bloomed today,’ to all the flowers. You’d always been safe in these woods—sheltered beneath a bubble of golden affection and the soft scents of the richest perfumes. The forest always welcomed you with open branches and the coo of creaking bark.

Which is why the twisty field of black thorns blocking your usual pathway gave you pause.

You reached out a finger and prodded one of the sharp points. It bit into your skin with the clear intention of drawing blood, before swaying away at the last moment to twine loosely around your wrist.

Huh. How peculiar.

“May I pass?” you asked the thorns.

The shivering web of ebony tightened along the path and you frowned.

“May I pass, please?” you tried again.

The briar patch seemed to heave with a gusty, angry, sigh. You were about to reach forward and try your luck one more time when a deep, rumbling, snarl curled out from the shadows beyond. Out of the sea of roiling darkness and dainty thorns strode a great, white, wolf. It bared its teeth at you in an expression that was entirely unpleasant.

Immediately you held up your hands in placation and took a wide step backwards. The wolf just kept growling at you like you’d murdered its entire family or something else equally egregious. It skulked forward soundlessly, ears pinned flat.

“My apologies,” you said, dipping your chin in a gentle bow. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I’m just trying to use this path to—”

The wolf lunged at you with a near roar, and you just barely managed to roll out of the way with a shriek. The thing landed hard in the dirt where you’d just been not a moment prior, and it swung its great, fanged, maw in your direction.

“Apologies, old one,” you tried again, just as Grandma had taught you. “But I really just—”

The wolf snapped, nearly taking off your fingers, and you folded over like a turtle that had been upended on its back—rolling around helplessly with your limbs flailing wildly as you went. The sharp crack of your head against the ground left your brain rattling around like dried beans in a can, and you could taste the copper sting where you’d bitten down into your tongue. The failed cartwheel had set you back a solid fifteen feet from the wood’s edge, and the wolf huffed at you—a stupidly pointed ‘stay away’ if you’d ever seen one. It glared at you with glowing, golden, eyes for a long moment before melting back into the shadows.

You spat out the cocktail of mud and blood pooling along your tongue, and wiped angrily at your sore chin. The forest had never denied you before. So maybe it wasn’t your lovely, lonely, trees that were sending you away. Maybe it was just this stupid wolf. Maybe the beast was trying to make a stand—to usurp the role of whatever spirit had ruled over this dark land for so long now. You grumbled and made your way back to your feet. It was fine. Your forest was strong. It would never lose to such a stupidly fluffy opponent. You’d just have to try again tomorrow.

The next day you armed yourself with a small arsenal of goodies. Daggers, ropes, armloads of talismans, and kindling, and rations. You hoisted your bow across your back and carefully plucked at the soft fletching of the arrows. The feathers buzzed beneath your fingers, and after a moment of uneasy hesitance, you cautiously replaced the weapon where it hung over your bed. Grandma had never liked the idea of you carrying weapons in the forest (‘it invites troublemakers’ she’d warned), but if something really had gone wrong in her woods, then it was better to worry about asking forgiveness than permission. And surely you could argue for a dagger. The bow… With its weighted arcana and strange, dissonant, strength felt like something dangerous.  

So you apologized to the rippling thorns before cutting them back with swift, precise, strokes of your blade and starting down that familiar path to Grandma’s cottage.

You made it about fifty yards before one of your talismans began to ping worryingly. The tingling thrum along your side was just enough of a warning to keep you from being mauled outright.

The White Wolf lunged from between the trees and you skittered out of the way of its attack. For such a huge creature, it was so silent. And its gleaming, downy, coat should have more than given away its position in the gloom. There must have been some kind of magic to it—something old, and ancient, that let the beast slip through the darkness unseen.

The Wolf situated itself firmly in the center of the path, hackles raised and shoulders hunched like it was readying itself to pounce.

“I need to get through,” you told it, firm, and raised one of the Protective talismans. After a heavy moment you scowled and bit out, “Please.”

The Wolf snarled and propelled itself forward. It latched its overlarge teeth in the fabric of your red cloak and quickly began to drag you to the ground. You frantically flailed about, and just managed to avoid those glinting fangs enough to thrust the talisman up into the beast’s ribs with a heavy smack. The charm lit with a brilliant, amethyst, gleam and sparks shot through the air. You let out a triumphant, ‘ah HA!’ And then all that magic fizzled out like a dying candle. You gaped in horror as the ‘one hundred percent foolproof, don’t you worry about that child’ Protective talisman fluttered to the ground like a discarded bit of newspaper.

“Oh, shit,” you croaked, as your cloak was shredded between the wolf’s canines with a horribly shrill wriiiiiip.

You sprinted like a bat out of Hell, tearing through the undergrowth and only just managing to collapse beyond the border of the tree line before the wolf could snap its jaws around your ankles. You curled your limbs protectively up beneath you, and watched through a veil of cold sweat as it paced along the foliage—leaving no tracks in its wake.

Fine, you thought bitterly. Two can play at this game.

The next morning you walked North, beyond the only safe paths you knew. Carefully, you began to scuttle your way up the nearest, gnarled, tree. The bark groaned and rattled beneath your fingers, as if disquieted. But there were no trails of white fur yet darting about the underbrush, so you offered the tree a hasty apology before climbing higher.

From there, it was only a matter of cautiously hopping from branch to branch. Normally when you’d tried ridiculous feats of stupidity like this in the past, the trees seemed more than eager to help you along—practically reaching out with their branches to catch you in their willowy, wooden, fingers. But they seemed stiff today, testy. The leaves themselves seemed to complain as you went, and you shushed them as politely as you could.  

There was a sharp bark from beneath you, and you looked down to see the Wolf circling your perch in a frantic, pacing, dance.  

“Hello!” you beamed, perfectly, poisonously, pleasant. “Nice to see you too!”

The Wolf sneered, lips curling up into a tight, tense, bow over its fangs.

You leaned forward, keeping a hand securely looped into your roost.

“Aww,” you cooed. “Is it too hard to climb up here with those big, fluffy, paws?” you mocked, wiggling your own fingers contentedly. “Bet someone really wishes they had opposable thumbs, huh?”

And then, like you were being smited by God Himself, the branch beneath your feet cracked clean in half, and you plummeted to the ground bellow with a harrowing screech. Naturally, you landed right at the wolf’s aforementioned stupid, fluffy, paws. Its great head lowered, and you could feel the heat of its breath as it growled into your face.

With a pathetic little ‘eep!’, the talisman tucked into the back of your boot burst into life and you flickered like a janky illusion. You stumbled to your feet a dozen or so yards away, fighting the urge to double over and barf. Slipping through planes was unpleasant at the best of times, let alone when under actual fucking duress.

The Wolf blinked its wide, golden, eyes at the empty space beneath its paws, and then whipped its head in your direction like a blood hound. You pushed yourself upright with the help of the very tree who had betrayed you so thoroughly, and began your hasty retreat.

You crashed through a curtain of thorns and out into the open with a gasp.

You rolled forward like the world’s most inelegant acrobat and came to a skidding halt in the dirt. You sat up with an achy cough, dislodging muck, and rocks, and leaves from your windpipe.

The Wolf prowled behind you—its glare a set of golden pinpricks in the gloom.

“What is your problem?!” you wailed.

The wolf tossed its head, like rolling its eyes wouldn’t have been enough. And snapped at you with another one of those pissy, bitten off, growls.  

“You know what?” you seethed, swinging back onto your knees to jab a finger at it accusatorily. “Fuck you!”

The thing had the absolute gall to snort at you before turning to return to its ceaseless patrol.

By the time you hauled yourself back to your family home, you must have looked an absolute mess. No one bothered to stop you when you practically clawed your way up the stairs and into your small bedroom. Though to be fair, no one really bothered to stop you for anything anymore. Not since an old women with too much spare time and not nearly enough light in her eyes had decided that you were a child to be treasured.

You grabbed your bow off the wall and slung it over your back. The sleek, silvery, wood hummed beneath your fingers. It had been a gift, one whose very existence you stalwartly refused to question. The weapon was finer than anything that could have come from your village’s blacksmith, or honestly probably any human craftsman. It was weightless. It was too heavy. It sang in your hands. It was not a token to be bestowed lightly. But… Well. Whoever it had belonged to before, it was yours now.

And you were going to shoot that goddamn Wolf right in the ass.

On the fourth day of your apparent banishment from the Shaftland Forest, you stormed those woods like a would-be conqueror. The silver bow keened beneath your palms, and you held a thin, spiked, arrow knocked and at the ready. Your nemesis found you in no time at all, and you bared your teeth at the stupid, fucking, mutt before it had the chance.

“One last time,” you said, drawing your bow as tight as you could. “Let me pass, beast. Or I will go through you.”

The wolf’s hackles were raised, but the snarl had slipped off its face. It dug its claws into the dirt, and you watched something like surprise work its way across the thing’s regal features. Its golden glare flickered from you, to the bow, and back again, like it couldn’t quite believe what it was seeing.

“I have business in these woods,” you demanded. And then, petulantly—because you just wanted to know that your stupid, devil worshipping, turnip of a grandmother was okay, and you were so fucking fed up with this garbage—you stomped at the ground and shouted, “And I was here first! So scram, you overgrown Pomeranian!”

The Wolf’s ears drooped, and something like a tremor worked its way down its spine. But then the thing was shaking its giant head like it was surfacing from beneath a pool of water, and it straightened its posture with a rumbling growl.

“Fine,” you snapped, and unleased the first arrow. It whizzed past your fingertips with a thready, shrill, fwoom faster than you could track. The booming force of it shocked you enough to have you shooting wide, and you watched that pin-thin arrow hit a tree trunk and sink all the way through to the other side.

The Wolf rushed forward when you went to reload, fur standing on end like you’d run it through with a bolt of lightning. It tackled you bodily to the ground with a yelp, and you wheezed as the air was knocked out of your lungs in one, fell, swoop. The bow tumbled out of your hands and you scrabbled for it wildly. And then the beast lunged for the bright red of your hood, as it seemed so keen to do in each of your past scuffles. But maybe it was done playing with you. Or maybe it just wasn’t expecting you to flail around so terribly. Because its garish fangs bore down past the soft, billowy, fabric of your cloak and tore straight into the meat of your arm instead.

You gasped and weren’t entirely able to swallow down the sharp shriek of pain that bubbled up and out of your throat. The wolf reared back in shock, its mouth stained red. It immediately ducked back in close, and then away, and then in again. Like it wasn’t sure what to do. The stalwart resolve from earlier was gone—replaced entirely by a bumbling sort of panic that had your head swimming more than the blood loss.

You tucked your arm in close, feeling the tattered remains of shredded fabric curling beneath new, warm, wetness. The Wolf cautiously nosed forward, but when you flinched it reared back like you’d struck it. The beast stepped pointedly away, and then began to pace frantically back and forth. Occasionally it would stop, like it was going to move in close again. But then its pointy ears would press stiff and flat atop its head and it would skulk away all over again.

Whatever, you seethed silently, jerkily ruffling through your bag for some of the Healing talismans you knew were tucked away at the bottom. If the monster felt some kind of weird guilt for taking a chomp out of you when it’d already been doings its damndest to maul you for the past four days straight, that was its problem.

It was taking you longer to unearth the talismans than you would have liked, and your hand was really starting to shake in earnest. The Wolf whined high and miserable in its throat, and you rationally decided that it would be a terrible, petty, idea to waste what little composure you had left just to tell it to fuck right off.

The horrid mess of crimson had begun to seep its way along your skin—dripping down your wrist to plop against the damp, mossy, earth with an echoing plip plip plip that was not unlike the fall of slow, fat, spring rain. The air around you seemed to grow heavier with it—the trees swaying at their roots and the dark, shriveled, flowers straining against their stems to get a taste. The Wolf’s golden gaze flicked around the grove cautiously, and you watched its black nose twitch in obvious discomfort. You swore you could see hands—dozens, hundreds of inky appendages reaching out from the shadows. Fingers twisting up into claws like they meant to grab onto you and dig in, never letting go. The Wolf settled itself at your back like a brick wall, snarling doggedly at the wispy talons. The beast was so large it practically enveloped the entirety of you, and you had to fight the delirious, dizzy, urge to lean back into its impractically soft fur.

“Hey! Are you alright over there?”

Both you and the Wolf jolted in surprise as a group of adventurers plowed their way through the trees. The Wolf’s already distressed expression twisted into something nearly manic and it roared—putting all those ferocious teeth on display.

“Woah!” one of them yelped, crashing to a halt and dragging their friends to a stop beside them. “What the fuck?!”

The others all looked equally startled, hands settling heavily on their weapons. And while right now Mister Wolfy wasn’t outright nomming on you or your limbs, there was a still a steady stream of blood trailing from the wound near your shoulder—a set of very obvious teeth marks sitting stark and red against the rest of you.

“We heard a scream,” another spoke up. Then, pointedly raising the sharp edge of his sword, asked, “Is this your companion, Ranger?”

‘Ranger?’ you blinked, confused, before remembering the bow still sitting in the dirt by your feet. Before you could respond, the Wolf lurched forward over your shoulder. It didn’t leave you—didn’t stray from its steadfast position at your hind—but it pushed its gaping, angry, maw as close to the group as it could. The trio reeled back as the monster snapped, and snarled, and nearly vibrated out of its skin with rage. But… no. Something wasn’t quite right. As viciously angry as all that harsh barking sounded, there was something very, very disquieting about it. Something strained, something afraid.

The one with his sword raised stepped forward, the others moved to follow. And then they were gone.

You blinked, shocked silly. There had been people there—not a second before. You were sure of it. What the fuck was happening?—

And then there was a discordant scream from somewhere deeper in the woods. Distant, but close. Like there were arcane tricks distorting the way of the world. Keeping you separate from the horrible, grinding, shrieking noises while… whatever was happening carried on—not a dozen yards away. Cloaked in shadows and rotten, violet, petals like how a parent might gently close a curtain around a child’s bed at night.  You watched in half-awe, half-horror as seeping, purple, miasma leached from the trees and into the air. It chased the intruders with vicious intent. You could feel the sharp, dark, heat of it prickling along your skin, but when that swirl of near-black enchantments made its way to you, it slipped past you like smoke—leaving only a faint trace of awful, coppery, perfume against your clothes.  

“Why couldn’t you just stay away?” a deep, miserable, voice echoed in your head, and you jerked around in shock to see the Wolf staring at you with heavy, gold eyes.

“Did… Are you…” you trailed off, swallowing. Not sure how to even begin asking what you wanted to ask.

The Wolf sighed, bone deep and weary.

“I tried so hard to keep everyone away,” its voice rumbled in the back of your mind. “Why did you have to be so stubborn?”

“This is my forest, too,” you said after a long moment, fingers digging into the dusty material of your pants. “What’s wrong with it? What happened?”

The Wolf stared at you, quiet and considering. And then it lumbered to its feet with a defeated sort of slouch.

“Come, then, Little Red One,” it huffed, and swished its tail against your back. “I’ll show you.”

.

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

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[marleyybluu]

The Nanny pt2

Rio x fem!reader

Wc: 2.8k

Warnings: none, just Rio being cute and sprung. maybe a little jealous

(Scenes from season 4 episode6 are used)

this is how I picture him looking at the reader lol

He had no idea how he ended up here. How quickly his feelings had developed in the short time she'd lived with them. To him, she was no longer just a nanny, they'd become a partnership. He really lightened her workload over the months. On the days that he started work late, he would let her sleep in, he'd get Marcus' lunch together and even make her breakfast— always leaving a little note behind to let her know he had gone to drop off Marcus and he'd see her tonight when he got home. And when he got home he always had a home-cooked meal, he couldn't tell the last time he ordered food.

She even taught him a few of her favourite meals, which coincidentally became his and Marcus' favourite meals too.

Marcus would be on his PS5 long enough for them to be in the kitchen making mistakes, laughing about it. That's where they bonded the most, he felt like that's where she was herself. She often said she found peace in cooking, it'd bring back memories of her childhood and she'd tell him stories of cooking with her mother and her grandmother and he'd attentively listen.

She hated to admit it but moving in made her a lot happier. She was stuck in a dead routine, just go to work and go home— she had no roommate, no pets, no kids, absolutely nothing to come home to and no one to talk to but now she had extra company and voices around her.

"So, now you add a teaspoon of salt," YN instructed from the other side of the island, she watched as Rio's eyebrows knit together in concentration trying to find the teaspoon in the jungle of little measuring spoons she had bought all looped on a keychain. She covered her mouth to muffle her incoming laughter, Rio smirked after catching her in the corner of his eye.

"I'll fuck you up Yn, don't laugh." He playfully warned. She apologized and pointed it out to him. "Thanks."

"Mhm."

She checked her watch for the millionth time in the last fifteen minutes. Today they were dropping Marcus off at his great-grandmother's house, she had recently let Rio know that they were having a family gathering at her home and most of his cousins would be there so it was inevitable that he would sleep over.

Yn was a bit sad, it'd be her first night without reading Marcus a story or giving him a big kiss on his cheek. But her sadness had been replaced with fear once he mentioned that they wanted to meet her. Why would they want to meet her? Was he talking about her? And what was he telling them?

"Alright, I gotta mix it next?"

She nodded. A question wavering over her head, and Rio could tell. "Ask."

Her eyes widened. "Ask what?"

"Whatever question is floating in that pretty head of yours." He thought he was slick slipping that word in, actually, she noticed he'd been doing it a lot. He'd call her baby, pretty girl, her favourite had become pretty mama. His too. He saw the effect it had on her, how giggly and blushy she got.

Yn took a deep breath. "Why does your grandmother want to meet me?"

He swallowed. Well, it was because he wouldn't shut up about her, Marcus had a bit of help in it too but truthfully it was mostly him. His grandmother almost couldn't believe someone had her boy this sweetened, she had to meet this "miracle worker." She called.

"Uh," He wanted to lie, but he wouldn't he would only tell her a quarter of the truth. "I told her I got Marcus a nanny and she wanted to meet who's taking care of him and the house, that's it."

She squinted. "You couldn't send her a picture?" He stopped mixing and looked up at her through hooded eyes as if to say, are you serious?

Yn rolled her eyes and put her hands up. "Sorry."

He resumed letting out an amused chuckle. "Why you nervous?" She groaned. "Dude, it's your family, your grandmother. What if they don't like me?"

"They'll like you. I like you, so they will."

A lighthearted confession that could be taken both ways. Yn blushed but quickly wiped it off. "Fine, I'll go get ready. When you're done cover the bowl and put it in the fridge, I'll make it tomorrow."

"Yes ma'am." She flashed a wink and slid off the barstool she was sitting on. Rio watched as she walked away, tongue swiping between his lips while her hips dipped a little extra in her stride. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

It took a while but everyone was finally dressed and out the door. Nobody said much during the car ride, Marcus was too occupied with his iPad to bother with conversation and Yn was still shaking in her skin, her leg closest to him continued to bounce and hadn't stopped once they left the house. He hesitantly moved his hand from his lap to her knee, he actively felt her leg slow down until it came to a full stop.

Her soft hand rested on top of his. "Sorry." She mumbled. "It's okay, told you... you'll be fine." Maybe she really was just overreacting but she couldn't help but think that this was more than just the family meeting the nanny. Yn had zoned out long enough for the rest of the ride, Rio's door closing is what brought her out of it. She unbuckled her seatbelt and bent down fixing the straps on her heels, she reached for the handle so she could open the door but was met with a hand.

"Come on." Rio smiled. She playfully rolled her eyes in order to hide her grin. Once she was in full view his eyes sparkled with adoration. "I tell you you look good before we left?"

"Yeah."

"Mm, well, you look beautiful."

She swore she could kiss him right there, she wanted to... so desperately. She rested her hand on his chin. "Thank you. You look beautiful too." She giggled. He winked. Marcus stood between them with his backpack on and a confused look on his face, a bit curious as to what was going on recently with them but he'd save it for later.

The three made their way to the backyard, Marcus had zoomed off once he heard children's laughter, his heavy backpack swinging and almost weighing him down caused the two to laugh. Once they were past the brick wall Yn was met with a whole generation of Rio's family— aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents were spread out through their backyard. A frigid air ran through her system when his presence vanished.

He had walked over to his grandma, slightly bending to embrace her in a hug. "Look how handsome you are papito." Yn smiled seeing her pinch his cheeks, he gently brushed her off and for a quick second you could see the little boy in him."Ay, abuela please." He whispered. She let out a hearty laugh gently hitting his arm, she glanced over at Yn. "Well, this must be who my boys are talking about so much."

She shyly waved while slowly approaching her open arms, they shared a hug. "It's so nice to meet you, sweetheart."

"Lovely to meet you too." She sweet-talked. "Come with me I have people I want you to meet."

Before Yn could protest she was being dragged off to another family member, she looked over her shoulder in a silent plea for Rio to be her scapegoat, he knew how she felt about meeting new people, but he just shook his head and mouthed, "you'll be fine."

And to her surprise, she was. His family embraced her almost immediately, spilling the tea on how Rio was when he was growing up and of course he was the same troublemaker back then. During your current conversation with one of his cousins, she felt sneaky slender fingers wrap around her biceps. "What lies are you telling this girl right now?" said Rio. The woman shrugged and sipped her drink. "Just telling her every embarrassing thing that she needs to know."

"Oh is that right?"

Yn leaned closer to him. "Yeah, so now I have some fire for you when you piss me off."

"Should've never brought you here."

His cousin chimed in, "Well, I'm glad you did. She's a keeper." Rio's face became flushed with sudden humiliation, it was almost like she was telling his crush that he had a crush on her without actually saying it. She noticed how red he was becoming and playfully hit his chest. "Eh, I guess I'll keep him too."

Before Rio could argue it was announced that the food was ready and that everyone should come eat. There were two tables, one for the kids and one for the adults, they made sure Marcus was good before heading to the other table. Rio pulled out her chair, she thanked him and sat comfortably and was already greeted by a plate of food. Everything looked and smelt so good. His grandmother plopped a scoop of potato salad on her plate, "Oh, it's a bit too much, thank you."

Rio smiled. "Nah, don't worry she will let you know when you've had enough."

Yn grabbed her fork and began to dig in, she sighed and closed her eyes thinking she might have to take some to go. "Good huh?" Rio laughed. "So fucking good."

"So how do you know my uncle?" A young man, who was a bit too young to be at their table but also a lot older than the other children, questioned. There was a beat of silence, neither knew who was going to answer or what to really say. Rio decided that maybe she'd been answering enough questions tonight and that he'd take this one. "She's uh, our nanny."

Then came another question. "Oh, what does she do?" Rio shrugged nonchalantly. "She helps me out. Ain't that right?" He bounced the response off to her, she swallowed what she was chewing and failed to make eye contact with anyone when she said, "We help each other out, we're partners."

A smirk tugged at his lips when she gently nudged him with her elbow. She had hoped the interrogation had come to its end but a man across from them decided to keep it going. She hadn't talked to him at all tonight, she caught a glimpse of him maybe but she wasn't drawn to him at all. "That's all?" He asks. Yn looked up at him, he had a cocky smile on his face, you could tell he thought he was a big shot and that he was probably used to getting anything he wanted.

There was a cold bitter breeze suddenly in the atmosphere. Rio's jaw flexed as he stared hateful daggers across the way while the other man held amusement like it was entertaining to see Rio in this light. The question remained in the air, no one decided to answer so now it was just awkward.

Rio's grandmother broke the ice. "So, do you have any children?" Yn's eyebrows pinched together. "Oh, no way." The table looked at her as if she had said something wrong, she retracted by saying: "Not that I don't like them, I mean I've been a nanny for fifteen years. I just um, haven't found anyone to make them with." She nervously laughed.

"Think you'll find him?" Tone. That tone. It was so snarky, and whenever she followed that tone it led back to that mischievous smirk, that know-it-all energy. There was nothing but hostility bouncing between this man and Rio, they remained quiet but their glares spoke loud enough for the both of them, a full-out brawl was going down in their heads. "Let the girl eat, Nick, she's barely touched her food." Said their grandmother. Rio grunted as he leaned back in his chair, pointing to the man and saying, "My cousin."

"Brother." Nick corrected.

"Cousin." Rio retracted. An annoyance washed over Nick but he tried his best to hold it together, his eyes shifted back to YN. "Heard a lot about you, YN. My brother makes it sound like you're more than just a nanny."

His grandmother tapped the table. "Nick shut up and eat your food please." The table of adults had soon shrunk back into their childish ways, and the unison of "Oouuuuuu." rang around the table. Nick bit the inside of his cheek and kept his comments to himself and the conversation roughly transferred to something else, Yn listened as she continued to devour her food. Her body suddenly froze when she felt a familiar hand rest on top of the space between her shoulder blades, it applied light pressure onto her muscle, it began to run up and down her back soothing her inside and out but also making her body shiver.

He was touching her. So gentle yet protective, like he had to let Nick know she was spoken for. She shifted in her seat, tugging her lip at the small friction she got from the chair. She needed to cool down. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Go straight down the hall and make a right, and it should be the first door."

YN excused herself and headed inside, she followed the instructions she was given and successfully found the bathroom door, she turned the knob but a cracked door not too far down caught her peripheral vision and curiosity began brewing inside. She looked back to make sure she was alone and headed down to the room. A small lamp was on illuminating the room, it was a small area— maybe a reading room considering there were lots of books on a shelf against the wall.

She furthered her exploration as she walked inside leaving the door cracked in case. She stumbled upon old pictures of who she could only assume was Rio and others of maybe his brother or cousin or whatever he is.

She softly smiled at a picture that reminded her of Marcus.

"What are you doin' in here?"

A gasp left her throat, she spun around to face Rio leaning against the door frame. "Sorry, I just... got a little curious."

"It's cool." He shrugged. Yn turned back around to continue her tour. Rio left his position, his footsteps were hushed due to the carpeting inside, he crept up behind her-- chest mere inches away from her back, the smell of her hair products infiltrated his senses. She could feel his body heat radiating onto her. "You used to be so cute." She mumbled pointing to the photos. "Used to? So, I'm not cute no more?"

Yn turned around in the minimum space that she had between his body and the shelf. He was awfully close. Close enough she could see every individual piece of hair on his moustache and every shade of pink on his lips. Her doe eyes wandered up to his dark ones, the desire and lust oozed out of them. Their bodies pressed together heatedly as their lips softly collided, both hesitant at first, a little kiss and pull away until Yn tugged on his shirt bringing him back where he belonged.

She was just as hungry for this feeling as he was, his lips were soft and warm-- so sweet and delicate with her. Rio almost melted into her. A warm feeling ignited inside of him, something he hadn't felt in a long time, maybe it was love or lust but he'd figure that shit out later right now he just wanted to stay in this moment. His hands ran down her dress, hiking the bottom up to meet the top of her thighs. He cupped her thigh and gently held her leg up dipping her further against the shelf. 

"Rio..." She softly moaned between smooches. She wanted him to have her in any and every way that he wanted. A sudden loud crash came from the kitchen which startled the two. They pulled away but still held each other close. "Mmm, I guess we should go back," Yn whined. Rio planted one last quick kiss before fixing her dress, the two straightened themselves out and he turned to exit but she gripped his wrist. 

"Can I ask you something?" He nodded giving her his full attention. "Why did you really bring me here?" 

He looked down at his shoes, he couldn't keep the cat in the bag forever. "I wanted my people to meet someone who's important to me and Marcus." 

"But mostly to you?" She teased. He sucked his teeth. "Shut up." He slipped his wrist out of her grasp and instead intertwined their fingers. They made their way back to the crowd, sitting back in their original spots. She could feel those same eyes staring at her from across the table but she'd ignore it. 

But she didn't know how deep things were about to get. 

lol i'm sorry this is so long

if you liked this fic feel free to like this fic, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

peace and love.

tags: @skyesthebomb @rio-reid-whoreee

[onestepbackwards]

It would be so funny if the player could still send texts on their arc phone and decided to send every complaint directly to Arceus

Everything from "Those ungrateful bastards banished me" to "My tummy hurts :("

Bonus points if they hand the phone over to Volo or Ingo and let them rant at god for screwing them over

Tbh if it were me I would let Arceus know every single inconvenience I had with being thrown into the past with no warning.

You let Arceus know no peace, making it very clear of your feelings on the matter.

[There is a leak in my room. You know what didn't have a leak? My old home.]

[They deadass are sending me into the wild??? On my own?? Assuming I have no experience?? They want me dead, Arceus.]

[THEY DONT HAVE COFFEE]

[Why do I have to fight the big scary pokemon?? WHY IS IT A STRANGERS JOB-]

[I think Cynthia's ancestor is stalking me.]

[I REACHED TEN STARS FUCK YEAH]

[WHY do I have to solve this village's problems. How am I the only one doing anything to help here.]

[WHY IS THE TRAIN GUY FROM UNOVA HERE.]

[ANSWER ME ARCEUS.]

[ISNT THIS GUY A CELEBRITY???? ARCEUS. HOW LONG HAS HE BEEN HERE-]

[When i invent mac n cheese, its over for these assholes.]

[Do you think I could piss Cyrus off by adopting his great great grandmother as my own mom?]

[They fucking banned me, Arceus.]

[AFTER EVERYTHING I DID-]

[Volo is def stalking me btw. WHY is he the only one wanting to help me besides the nice lady who also looks like Cynthia-]

[THE SKY IS RED.]

[Did Kamado seriously send Beni to assassinate me or did I just hallucinate that whole encounter.]

[WHY IS IT I KEEPING MEETING PEOPLE WHO WANT TO DELETE THE UNIVERSE WITH GIRATINA]

[If i had a dollar for every time this has happened, i'd have two dollars. It isn't a lot, but its weird its happened twice-]

[HOW COME HE GETS LIKE THE EQUIVALENT OF 8 POKEMON AND I CANT]

[If you had just said hi to him we could have avoided me almost dying TWICE.]

Arceus almost never responds unless you have a genuine question, or need help. But you do find solace in complaining to it.

You later tell Volo that hey, like, you know things are kinda awkward, but you have a means of directly messaging Pokemon God-

He's shaking as you hand him the phone and show him how to use it. At first, Volo for once, doesn't know what to say. He had dreamt of unloading his problems onto Arceus many times, but now?

He is almost at a lost for words.

That is, until you reach around him, showing him your previous conversations.

"Yeah, see here? I kinda bitched at Arceus last week because I'm still not allowed to go home yet. I kinda just use the chat to vent about things most of the time."

Volo stares for a moment, until he's furiously typing. He doesn't stop typing for a good few minutes, sending one very long, winded message, before handing the phone back to you. It's the longest message you have ever seen sent on your phone

The merchant is awfully quiet after that for a little while.