#hate when bullshit happens and you have to lock in so bad

[myzticmint]

Life, lifed. Time to move on.

[amourane]

hate the way you smile

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst, comedy, e2l + childhood enemies??

w/c: 4.7k

summary: from the second you met theodore nott you knew that your life would be torturous and that the boy would never leave you alone but maybe forever isn't so bad with theodore nott.

warnings: none just a lot of bickering

a/n: omg this one is a bit long but i finished it!

From the moment that you met Theodore Nott at the bright age of five you knew you would hate him forever. Maybe it was the way he would sneer at you with distaste or the way he would mock you for being a big crybaby whenever he took your toys. All you knew was that you simply loathed his presence.

Your families had been friends and they had initially thought that you and Theo would get along since you were both the same age. What they didn’t expect was the young boy to rip the heads of your dolls and proceed to mock you for crying your heart out. Yet even with all of your constant bickering your families still met up every holiday, bringing the demon child with them to torment your life.

Since that day your childhood was filled with cruel laughter and the mischievous eyes that would watch wherever you went.  At age seven, Theodore Nott found it appropriate to fill your bathtub with toads causing you to shriek out in terror when you opened the bathroom door, and him, to run away with glee at your horrified face. At age nine, he thought it would’ve been funny to surprise you by dumping a bucket load of pumpkin juice all over you and he cackled at your expected screams of anger. What he didn’t expect was for you to retaliate by smashing a tray of cauldron cakes into his face. 

Needless to say the war between you two started way back then and it had continued, the only difference being that now you both were more mature and civilised and there was no room for childish pranks.

“Suck my cock you mangled prat, I hope you trip and fall to your death you insignificant shit goblin!” 

At least so you thought.

You made a move and lunged for Theodore Nott’s throat as anger flared in your eyes. No one paid mind to the scene that was unfolding before them afterall it was a common occurrence for the last six years. 

“You enchanted my hair green!” You shrieked as you shook the brunette violently. “Are you out of your mind Nott? I thought we agreed we wouldn’t mess with each other’s appearances, what happened to that?” 

Theodore simply smirked and you felt your fury bubble inside you. He tilted his head to the right and acted as if he was actually pondering your question. If you could you would have been breathing flames as you felt yourself grow more livid as every second went by. 

“Hmm…I like your hair L/n, really suits the whole vibe you’re going for, don't you think bella?” Theo flashed you a wicked grin as he reached out to twirl a lock of your hair between his fingers. You slapped his hand away.

“And what vibe am I going for Nott? Please enlighten me since you apparently are the one making decisions for me.”

You should’ve just walked away. You really should’ve just cursed him out and gone to Madam Pomfrey for some sort of remedy instead of staying and entertaining whatever shit-faced idea he had come up with. The moment you saw the smug smirk that spread across his face and the dangerous twinkle in his eyes you knew he was going to spew some absolute bullshit. And you were right.

“Well obviously it’s a statement declaring that you’re mine, why else would you dye your hair to match my house?” The Slythering feigned disbelief, clutching his hands to his chest innocently. “But Salazar, I didn’t know you would be so bold about your feelings towards me bella.”

You felt heat rise and settle on your cheeks as you tried to come up with a colourful comeback to wipe the stupid smirk off his face but the words die in your throat. It was against your will but you could feel your face growing hotter as he continued to stare at you with that flirty glint in his eyes. Your brain spluttered to a stop and you scrambled desperately for something to say.

“Fuck you Nott.” You seethed before storming away with your hands balled into fists. You could hear the whispers of students and you could feel their stares as you stomped to the infirmary, determined to find some way to get your hair back to normal. 

Theodore Nott was the biggest pain in the arse you knew and he had never stopped being one. You still remembered when you had received your letter to Hogwarts and he had scoffed at the sight asking why Hogwarts would want a half-wit like you. Needless to say your parents weren’t surprised at the cries that erupted a second later from both you and him.

Throughout your years the two of you had become known for the obvious tension and pure hatred you harboured for each other though it did seem to lean on your side a bit more than it did to his. It had been the same for the first three years, bickering, pranks and whatnot. Then fourth year came and the scrawny boy you once knew had magically grown much taller and his face had lost a lot of the baby fat it once had. All at once Theodore Nott became one of the most sought after boys in Hogwarts and it only made you loathe him more. It made his ego triple in size and it made him much more flirty towards everyone but you seemed to be his number one target. All you wanted to do was to take your wand and puncture that bloated head of his.

Though his appearance changed he still was the boy you knew since you were a child and whenever he smiled you could see the same boyish grin he had way back when he was five. He had always been the same but now he just had a much more pretty face to disguise the fact he was a blithering idiot.

Theo watched as you stormed off, his smile never once leaving his face. He loved to mess with you purely to see the visceral anger that radiated off you every single time. The way you would try to stare him down but the action proved useless as he was much taller allowing him to simply look down smugly. It amused him to see how your reactions never changed. 

Ever since you were five you held the same expressions: whenever you were mildly irritated by him you would chew on your bottom lip, whenever you were pissed your eyes would double in size and you’d look like a fire-breathing dragon, and whenever he made you upset you would stare blankly without a word. He’d only ever made you truly upset once and when seeing your face he knew he would never do it again because even if the two of you bickered and fought he would never hurt you.

“Sometimes I think you’re secretly dating because you should see the way you’re daydreaming hopelessly while staring at L/n’s retreating figure Nott, you look like a bloody imbecile.” Draco slapped Theo’s back startling him out of his own thoughts. He scoffed after realising what his friend was implying.

“Oh Salazar’s balls I think I’m going to regurgitate my breakfast. You’ve gone insane if you even think for a second there’s a chance I fancy that creature.”

Laughter erupted from his friends and they continued to mock and tease him obviously not being mature enough to handle the situation with grace.

“I would rather shag the giant squid than date L/n and I’m sure the feeling is mutual.”

Mattheo hummed to himself and smirked. He placed his arm on Theo’s shoulder. “Well then can I ask her out? She’s real hot and I think she’d be interested.”

“L/n might be stupid Riddle but she wouldn’t ever go out with you or even give you the time of day. So don’t even think about doing it.” And with that he left and his friends exchanged knowing glances before bursting into another fit of laughter at their friend’s own obliviousness.

//

This was so not your day. 

Never in your life had you forgotten to hand in homework yet one silly slip up had cost you to spend your free afternoon in detention. It wasn’t your fault you had mixed up the dates on when the transfiguration homework was due. 

You begrudgingly opened the classroom doors, finding a seat to sit down for the next hour. At least you were able to catch up on some other classes while you were in detention otherwise you thought you would’ve gone mad. You looked around the classroom save for Professor McGonagall who had already greeted you when you walked in there was no one else there. 

It hadn’t even been a minute when the doors burst open to reveal a very tall and very smug Slytherin.

“Mr Nott, glad for you to join us, find a seat please.”

Theo's grin faltered as his eyes locked onto yours, a flicker of confusion dancing across his features before it was swiftly replaced by his trademark smirk. He made his way toward you, closing the distance until there were mere centimetres separating you from him.

“Now L/n, Nott, I have important business to tend to so I assume the both of you are mature enough to sit through this detention. I hope that I don’t hear about any incidents when I am gone.”

It was as if your nightmare had all of a sudden come to life as you watched McGonagall leave the classroom. You tried to protest but it fell upon deaf ears as the professor had already left the room, leaving you stuck with your nemesis.

You whipped your head to face the brunette, irritation flashing in your eyes. Why had he chosen to sit next to you when there were plenty of other seats available? The classroom was far from crowded, yet here he was, invading your personal space with his mere presence

“Why are you sitting next to me Nott?”

“Why can’t I? Do you happen to own every seat in this classroom?” He teased. “I didn’t think you did, so I’m going to sit where I want.”

You grumbled under your breath at his stubbornness, getting up to pack your things. “Fine, but then I’m moving.”

Before you could make your move, Theo reached out and grabbed your arm. “Hey slow down, I have a perfect seat right here.” Your irritation flared at his audacity, and you shot him a scathing glare as he gestured to his lap with a smug smirk. “Why don’t you-”

“Nott, if you seriously propose that I sit in your lap I will hex you to oblivion.”

“Okay!” Theo held his hands up in mock surrender, his expression feigning innocence as he cocked his head to the side, the smirk never once leaving his face. “Stay here, I won’t bother you, I swear.”

You eyed him cautiously, your scepticism evident. You weighed the options before you reluctantly sat back down. “Fine.”

A quiet hush befell the classroom and all that could be heard was the scratching of quills on parchment. That is until you were interrupted by a persistent poking sensation that disrupted your concentration, each jab of the quill more annoying than the last. You clenched your jaw as you tried to ignore Theo but you knew he wouldn’t stop until you gave him attention and there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of reacting. So he continued to poke and poke and poke. 

His incessant poking finally pushed you over the edge, prompting a sharp hiss of irritation from your lips. "What?" You snapped, unable to contain your frustration any longer.

“What are you doing here?” 

If there was a competition for incompetence Theodore Nott would sure have won first place.

“Detention obviously.”

“Oh you know what I meant, why are you in detention? Did you do something stupid? Wait, you do that all the time I forgot.” You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to roll them right out of your skull. "Tell me, bella," He continued, his voice laced with faux innocence. "I don't bite."

“Forgot my homework.” You reluctantly mumbled under your breath, feeling all too claustrophobic at how close he was to you. “Not that big of a deal.”

“Oh but it is.”

“What does that even mean, Nott?” Your eyes narrowed. Theo’s face twisted into a playful smirk and he was so close that you could practically hear his heart beating.

He chuckled, undeterred by your hostility. "But it's not like you to forget your homework," He teased, leaning in closer. "There must be something distracting you. Perhaps... thoughts of me?"

As if on instinct your hands reached out to push the unbearable boy away from you and you immediately got up at his incredulous words. You saw the way laughter bubbled and slipped from his lips, mocking you which only added more fuel to the evergrowing fire.

"In your dreams, Nott," You retorted, your voice laced with venom as you rose from your seat, your movements quick and determined. "I would sooner volunteer for a Dementor's kiss than waste a single thought on you."

Theo’s smirk only widened and his eyes gleamed with mischief. "Oh, believe me, the feeling is mutual," He quipped, his voice dripping with amusement as he rested his chin on his palms, his gaze never wavering from yours.

You huffed out an angry breath before picking your stuff up and stalking to the opposite end of the classroom. Luckily, he didn’t follow and you were left in peace for the rest of the detention.

//

It had been a week and a half since your detention yet Theodore Nott hadn’t approached you once since. In fact, you hadn’t seen him around school a lot, not that you were paying attention of course. It was just weird. Usually his face would pop up in front of you multiple times a day yet he was nowhere to be found. You had even lingered around the Slytherin table at lunch to see if he would show up but he never did. 

There was this sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. Even though you did despise Theo you had known him since he was a kid and he never was one to skip lessons much less disappear for over a week. Even his Slytherin friends didn’t know where he went.

That is until today. The moment you had walked into the dungeons ready for your Potions lesson you spotted him. There was a part of you that hoped you would see him today, after all he was your Potions partner. But there was something wrong. His face looked gaunt, pale, sapped of life and his eyes were merely blank as he sat unmoving. His usual demeanour was replaced with one of hollow emptiness.

“Where have you been Nott?” No response. You frowned as you looked at him, he seemed to not even hear you. “Nott? Have you suddenly become deaf?”

“It’s none of your business.” He snapped voice obviously laced with malice as the words cut through the air. The sharpness of his tone caught you off guard, a twinge of hurt gnawing at the edges of your consciousness despite the fact you both had said worse to each other.

You chose to ignore the fact that Theo was obviously in a sour mood and sat down beside him, unpacking your things. There was nothing special about the lesson, nothing that you needed to particularly pay attention to. Not that you did since you were too focused on trying to figure out what was wrong with your partner. Theo didn’t look okay, not in the slightest. He seemed exhausted and his sluggish movements proved you correct as he diced the various ingredients. 

You were in the middle of stirring the cauldron when Theo dropped a dandelion root in the mixture causing it to bubble and spit. The concoction spilled onto your hand and you shrieked at the sudden burning sensation that seemed to consume your hand in flames. The sensation is unbearable, a sharp, burning agony that seems to penetrate deep into your very bones. By now the whole class had stopped to look at you not fully registering what had happened. You turned to Theo, tears threatening to fall from your eyes at the pain but he stood there frozen, an expression you couldn’t decipher on his face.

“Theo-”

"Fucking hell, L/n." He spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "Would it kill you to not be such a clumsy moron? You could've hurt me as well. How can you even call yourself a witch?"

His words were sharp and spiteful. Through the many years of knowing Theodore Nott he had never blamed you for something he did. He might have been an incorrigible prick but he would still apologise if he had ever hurt you genuinely. But as you looked at him you couldn’t recognise the cold harsh look he gave you and you bit back your tears. You wouldn’t cry in front of him. 

Despite the fact your hand was in pain you felt something tighten around your chest and it made the air around you feel thick as if you couldn’t breathe. You stood up angrily, opening your mouth to snap back but your vision starts to fade, black spots invade your senses and that was the last thing you remember before you tumbled to the floor.

You woke up a few hours later as you felt the sun shine on your face. You blinked, disorientated, as you tried to get used to your surroundings. The familiar walls of the infirmary materialised and you felt some ease at knowing where you were. Confusion still gnawed at your mind as you struggled to piece together what had happened. How had you ended up in the infirmary? And why did everything feel so hazy, as if viewed through a foggy lens? 

Your gaze drifted to your hand, the source of the searing pain. And there, wrapped in a pristine white bandage, lay the answer to at least one of your questions. The memory flooded back in fragments, disjointed and incomplete.

Theo's careless mistake, the scalding mixture splattering across your skin, the sharp cry of pain that had torn through the air, all of it came rushing back with startling clarity.

“Miss L/n you’re awake!” Madam Pomfrey’s voice cut through your thoughts and you saw the woman make her way towards you hurriedly. “That was a terrible burn you had, lucky I had some burn-healing paste on me otherwise you would have had an ugly scar.”

You were still a bit dazed, trying to piece together how you even managed to make your way here. You distinctively remembered collapsing to the floor but that was where your memory stopped and it refused to give you any more.

“Sorry Madam Pomfrey but do you know how I got here? I really can’t seem to remember.”

“Oh dear.” The nurse frowned at your condition. “Mr Nott brought you here. He’s been here the whole afternoon. He's only just popped to dinner. I'm sure he’ll be back. Merlin, the boy did look worried.”

You resisted the urge to scoff at her words. Theodore Nott, worried. Not a chance. He probably only brought you here because Slughorn insisted, and he couldn't risk getting on the professor's bad side. No, you highly doubted he cared about what had happened to you.

The memory of his harsh words repeated in your head like an echo that refused to go away, a reminder of his indifference to your situation. And yet, despite your efforts to brush it off, a bitter laugh escaped your lips. Why were you even upset? After all, the two of you were experts at hurling mean insults at each other. It was practically a pastime. 

Rather you should have been mad at the fact he was the one who caused you to get this injury anyway. If it wasn’t for his stupid mistake you wouldn’t be in this predicament. Then again, you remembered his movements, how his usual nimble fingers were fumbling the ingredients, how he stared at the pages of his book as though they were in a foreign language. Something wasn’t right.

“You’re awake.”

The words startled you and you spotted the Slytherin boy approaching your bed as his face held the same blank expression as before. He sat down beside you and your eyes narrowed. You shuffled away, not wanting to be near him.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured quietly and the words caught you off guard. “These past few days just haven’t been the best and-”

“That’s your excuse?” You bristled at his pathetic apology, hoping that you had misheard what he had said. “You mess up our potion resulting in me getting hurt and then hurl insults my way trying to blame me for what happened. And you think simply saying ‘I’m sorry’ is enough? Using the excuse of having a few bad days as your way out?”

He stayed silent allowing you to continue.

“Theodore Nott, you always were an idiot.” You spat, the words tinged with disappointment. “But I never expected you to be such a heartless prick.”

As the final syllable fell from your lips, a heavy silence settled over the room, punctuated only by the shallow rise and fall of your breath. You held Theo’s gaze and as you studied him you noticed something you had failed to notice before. The dark circles that marred the skin beneath his eyes, the redness that rimmed their edges. The weariness that had been etched into his features. 

“I went home.” He finally said, breaking the silence with his words. “Father sent a letter saying it was urgent, that I needed to return home at once.”

You felt yourself deflate and your gaze softened. Theo and his father had never been on the best terms and ever since his mother died they drifted apart even more. Suddenly his attitude made sense and you felt the guilt seep into your senses.

“Turns out his urgent matter was that he found himself another potential wife. Some poor woman to endure his torture and he wanted to happily announce it to his son. He burnt all of my mother’s belongings and if I hadn’t stopped him he would’ve gotten rid of her grave as well.” Theo scoffed bitterly and you saw the way he was trying to stop the tears from falling. “That bastard calls himself my father but not once in his life has he ever cared about me.”

A heavy silence enveloped the both of you as you sat not uttering a word. You knew that he had always struggled with the strained relationship with his family. The death of his mother had resulted in Theo being distraught for weeks as he relived the nightmare whenever he closed his eyes. 

“I’m not going back there. I’m never setting foot in that house ever again.”

You placed your hand on his shoulder as you tried to offer some sort of comfort. His eyes locked with yours and you saw how his tears glistened as they fell silently. You felt ropes tighten around your heart and you squeezed his shoulder gently. It had been a long time since you saw Theodore Nott cry. It was a rare sight but that was what made it that much more painful.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You whispered. “I honestly…I’m so sorry Theo. He really doesn’t deserve a son like you. You’re incredible, you know that? You might be irritating and loud and downright infuriating at times but he doesn’t deserve you because you’re amazing Theodore Nott. And, Merlin, if I’m saying that then it must mean a lot because we both know my word is golden.”

You offered him a small smile and your heart warms when you see one tug at his lips too. He looked away for a second and you saw his eyes land on your bandaged hand and he winced.

“I really am sorry for messing up our potion. I didn’t mean what I said, you’re a brilliant witch Y/n, you always have been. I was just being a prat, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s honestly nothing bad. My hand will probably already be back to normal, I heal quickly you know.” You paused as your smile faltered and you chose your next words carefully. “If…if you don’t want to return to your house, you can always go to someone else's.”

Theo chuckled as he shook his head. “No one is going to accept me into their house without turning me into my father.”

“I will.” 

Silence. Theo looked at you, confusion clear on his face but your gaze was strong and he could tell you had meant what you had said. You felt yourself flush at his stare and you realised your hand was still on his shoulder and you quickly removed it.

“Accept you into my house I mean. My parents love you and you know they haven’t been on good terms with your father ever since what happened. We would be more than willing to take you in.” You watched as his face contorted into expressions that you couldn’t formulate. “That is if you promise not to fill my bathtub with toads again.”

Laughter fell from his lips, cascading like a melody. He lifted his hands to wipe away his tears that had been streaking down his face. His eyes no longer held the blank emotionless look but rather a certain warmth that you had missed seeing. Your grin widened upon hearing the sound and you found yourself joining in.

“At least you look pretty-”

Your words were cut off abruptly as Theo leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a sudden and unexpected kiss. You froze, unable to comprehend what exactly was happening as disbelief rippled through your body. His hands found their way at the back of your neck and you feel his thumb caress your cheek tenderly. You were still in shock when he pulled away and the last few words of the sentence you were about to say tumbled out of your mouth.

“-when you cry…”

You blinked as your mind tried to grapple at what had just happened. Theodore Nott had just kissed you. Theodore Nott, the boy you had despised since you were five, had just kissed you. He kissed you. Kissed…you. Immediately, your body erupted into flames and you felt your face flush hot at how close the both of you were.

“Your body temperature has risen extremely quickly.” Theo teased and you felt yourself grow even hotter.

“Shut it.”

“Like you’re actually a human radiator.” He continued undeterred by your glare.

“Nott if you don’t want to lose your head I would advise you to shut up.”

Theo grinned and you felt your heart stutter at the sight. “Oh so now I’m back to being Nott? What happened to Theo?” He said his name in a high pitched croon in an attempt to mock your voice and you smacked the backside of his head which only encouraged his laughter.

“You’re actually going to be the death of me.” You groaned as you slumped back down the bed, pulling the covers over your face as a feeble attempt to hide yourself from the pretty Slytherin.

Theo poked your arm and you peeked out to find him staring at you with a bright grin on his face. 

"Don't worry." He reassured you, his voice light and teasing. "I'll make sure to stay by your side forever and ever, like a blood-sucking parasite."

“How romantic.” You drawled as you rolled your eyes, trying to maintain a facade of annoyance as you retreated under the covers once more.

“Aren’t I just?” 

You ignored Theo’s playful whines for you to let him see your face. Your heart threatened to break out of your chest as you tried to calm yourself down. But even so, you were unable to stop the grin that spread across your face. Maybe, just maybe, forever wouldn't be so bad with Theodore Nott by your side.

[rivkae-winters]

Edit: the app launched and Is down- I have the initial apology video in a post here and I’m working on getting a full archive of their TikTok up ASAP. I’m letting the rest of this post remain since I do still stand by most of it and also don’t like altering things already in circulation.

Warning for criticism and what I’d consider some harsh to outright mean words:

So I’ve just been made aware of the project known of as ‘lore.fm’ and I’m not a fan for multiple reasons. For one this ‘accessibility’ tool complicates the process of essentially just using a screen reader (something native to all I phones specifically because this is a proposed IOS app) in utterly needless and inaccessible ways. From what I have been seeing on Reddit they have been shielding themselves (or fans of the project have been defending them) with this claim of being an accessibility tool as well to which is infuriating for so many reasons.

I plan to make a longer post explaining why this is a terrible idea later but I’ll keep it short for tonight with my main three criticisms and a few extras:

1. Your service requires people to copy a url for a fic then open your app then paste it into your app and click a button then wait for your audio to be prepared to use. This is needlessly complicating a process that exists on IOS already and can be done IN BROWSER using an overlay that you can fully control the placement of.

2. This is potentially killing your own fandom if it catches on with the proposed target market of xreader smut enjoyers because of only needing the link as mentioned above. You don’t have to open a fic to get a link this the author may potentially not even get any hits much less any other feedback. At least when you download a pdf you leave a hit: the download button is on the page with the fic for a reason. Fandom is a self sustaining eco system and many authors get discouraged and post less/even stop writing all together if they get low interaction.

3. Maybe we shouldn’t put something marketed as turning smut fanfic into audio books on the IOS App Store right now. Maybe with KOSA that’s a bad idea? Just maybe? Sarcasm aside we could see fan fiction be under even more legal threat if minors use this to listen to the content we know they all consume via sites like ao3 (even if we ask them not to) and are caught with it. Auditory content has historically been considered much more obscene/inappropriate than written content: this is a recipe for a disaster and more internet regulations we are trying to avoid.

I also have many issues with the fact that this is obviously redistributing fanfiction (thus violating the copyright we hold over our words and our plots) and removing control the author should have over their content and digital footprint. Then there is the fact that even though the creator on TikTok SAYS you can email to have your fic ‘excluded’ based on the way the demo works (pasting a link) I’m gonna assume that’s just to cover her ass/is utter bullshit. I know that’s harsh but if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck it’s probably a duck.

I am all for women in stem- I’ve BEEN a woman in Stem- but this is not a cool girl boss moment. This is someone naive enough to think this will go over well at best or many other things (security risks especially) at worst.

In conclusion for tonight: I hope this person is a troll but there is enough hype and enough paid for web domains that I don’t think that’s the case. There are a litany of reasons every fanfic reader and writer should be against something like this existing and I’ll outline them all in several other posts later.

Do not email their opt out email address there is no saying what is actually happening with that data and it is simply not worth the risks it could bring up. I hate treating seemingly well meaning people like potential cyber criminals but I’ve seen enough shit by now that it’s better to be safe than sorry. You’re much safer just locking all your fics to account only. I haven’t yet but I may in the future if that is the only option.

If anyone wants a screen reader tutorial and a walk through of my free favorites as well as the native IOS screen reader I can post that later as well. Sorry for the heavy content I know it’s not my normal fare.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Ascended Astarion Manipulation

I'm back on my dark bullshit. Now thinking of your "choice" to be a vampire spawn. Any sane person would refuse, and Astarion is aware of this. So he decides to convince you with some very not good tactics.

Tw: Obsession, manipulation, jealousy, ascended Astarion doing ascended Astarion things, bad, bad, man, toxic relationships

~

Astarion had developed a significant lack of patience ever since reaching Ascension. It was hard to entertain most things when he'd achieved the power to twist the vast majority of situations in his favor. But he was trying his damndest to be patient with you. Despite the fact that your constant refusals made him absolutely furious. You insisted that you loved him, that he was all you would ever want, but yet you still refused to undergo the change.

It's not like he was asking for much, if anything you should be thanking him for the opportunity. He was offering you the gift of immortality, with little to no drawbacks. Besides your unwavering devotion of course. But what was that in the face of absolute freedom? You would never have to worry about a thing again. He would keep you safe and cared for, all while you'd both be free to walk in the sun. He had endless funds now that he had taken over Cazador's estate, unmatched political power in a startlingly short amount of time, considering his work as part of the heroes of Baldur's gate, and the power to obliterate nearly any mortal enemy he could think of. Anything you desired he could give, if you would just let yourself take that final step.

But as much as he wanted to be solely angry at you, he really only had himself to blame. Why had he insisted on being so descriptive about the limitations of being a spawn? He had been such a cowardly moron back then, with no imagination to imagine a better future. And now he was paying for it. While it was true he would never make you a fully fledged vampire, it didn't mean he would mistreat you. He loved you. Adored you more than anything else in existence. And having you as his spawn, his official consort would be for your benefit just as much his. This was the only way he would have complete control over you, fully able to protect you from everything. Including yourself.

But you weren't buying his lies about eventually becoming equals. The offer of giving you everything you ever wanted also fell flat, considering how he was already doing that. He just couldn't help but spoil you.

He had started to wonder if he should just force it. He would prefer not to, but he would if it came to it. But he didn't get this far by not using his brain. Force wasn't the way with you, it never had been. If anything, turning you against your will would just lead to decades of fighting and bickering, something that Astarion would like to avoid if possible. He would hate to make the experience of putting you in your place unpleasant.

No, he would try to be reasonable one more time. And appealing to your emotions, to your guilt, seemed as good a bet as any.

He waited until you were comfortable and relaxed. You were dozing off against his chest in bed while Astarion contemplated the best approach to this conversation. If this didn't work, then he'd just have to bite the bullet and bite you without your consent. Then, he'd probably have to lock you away for a time until you came around to your new state of being, an idea that did send a shiver of excitement up his spine.

But not yet. He was willing to give you one more chance to do the right thing.

He ran the tips of his fingers over your back, taking the time to work up a couple of tears before fully waking you with a seemingly accidental shake. He sniffled loudly, barely managing to hide his smile as you blinked your eyes open. You blearily looked up at him, immediately tensing when you saw the sorrowful expression on his face.

You sat up quickly, concern knitting your brows together as you asked, "Star? What's wrong? What happened?"

Astarion looked away with a shake of his head, "I... I didn't mean to wake you darling. Ignore me, I'll be fine."

You shook your head. You gently turned him back towards you, both hands cupping the sides of his face, "None of that. Tell me? I'll never be able to sleep if I know your upset."

Astarion gripped your wrists as he spoke, his voice soft, "I don't want to upset you."

"You won't," You said, just like Astarion knew you would, "I promise. Just tell me what's wrong?"

He took a deep breath, his voice barely over a whisper when he admitted, "I'm so afraid of losing you, my love. I... I just can't stop thinking about it."

"But I'm not going anywhere-"

"For now," Astarion interrupted, his voice pained. He only had to take a portion of that, "But... one day you'll die. And I won't. I... I don't know how I'll ever live without you."

He could feel you tense up, badly enough for you to almost pull away, but he just tightened the grip he had on your wrists. You sighed, looking away with a guilty frown, "I-we've talked about this. I don't-I'm not ready to be... that."

Astarion could feel that same anger creeping back up at your rejection, but he stomped it down. He could tell that you were semi-buying the act. You were so much smarter then he gave you credit for, never failing to challenge him. Just one more thing he loved about you.

Astarion took a shuddering breath, nuzzling into the palm of your hand, "I know. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I just... I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," You said softly, "I'm the one who asked."

"But I'm the one who woke you," Astarion argued, "I'm so sorry darling. I want to let this go. I do. But I... I'm scared. Of so many things. I'm afraid that you think... that you think I'm like him. That you don't trust me to take care of you like you deserve. I'm afraid of you dying yes, probably more than anything but... I'm nearly just as terrified of you leaving."

That speech was... a touch too honest for Astarion's liking, but it seemed to be working. He could see tears prickling in your own eyes, your resolve shaken in a way he had yet to seen.

"I-I do trust you. And I know you're not like him. I'm just... I'm scared too. What if... what if you get tired of me? What if you find someone better suited for you? Then I would just... be there. Forever tied to a man who doesn't want me."

That... actually hurt to hear. Didn't you know that you were it for him? That he would set the whole world ablaze if it meant keeping you safe? No one would ever get between the two of you, he'd slaughter anyone who would even dare try.

Astarion finally let go of your wrists, opting to pull you into a tight hug instead. He cradled you against him, whispering in your ear, "That will never happen. You're mine. There is no one else, nothing else, that will ever change that. And if you let me I'll prove it to you, for all eternity."

You were fully crying now, so, so close to breaking. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

"I love you," Astarion murmured, one thing that would never be a lie, "And I can't live without you. I won't. It's either forever with you, or my life ends the day yours does."

"Don't say that," You whimpered, "Please don't say that. I-I don't want that for you."

You were so close to him, so distraught. He could smell the siren call of your blood through your skin, calling out to him. He made the choice then and there, he was biting you tonight. Without or without your consent. It would be up to you if it would be a fight or not.

"Then give me this," Astarion pleaded one more time, his real emotions coming to the forefront, "Let me have this life with you. Please my love, let this happen. Let me change you. For me?"

This was it, your last change. Astarion could only hope that you wouldn't disappoint him.

And you didn't, perfect thing that you were. You were nearly sobbing into his shoulder, but you were nodding against him, your voice barely audible through the tears, "Y-Yes, I'll do it. For you. You... you can change me."

That was all the permission that Astarion needed. He was sinking his fangs into your throat before you could even process it, so, so ready to drain you dry.

You gasped at the unexpected pain, but you didn't fight him. You let it happen like the good pet you were, all you had needed was a little push. He could feel you start to fade away, your body becoming more and more lax as you started to die in his arms.

But that was fine. You were about to be reborn into something better, someone who would never be able to leave his side.

This was it. Now, you were his, in every way imaginable.

You would never be away from him again.

[baby-tini]

Meet the Todorokis

@supernatural-hunter1 @dabisangle

Dabi told you about his family before he did the reveal to the whole of Japan. He told you about how abusive his father was, how his mom did nothing to help, how his siblings didn't understand what it felt like to be in his position and how he hated his youngest brother. From the little information he'd give you, throughout the months of being together, you.cpuld tell there was some serious trauma and his home life and family were anything but loving. Aside from the physical scars, you knew there was some pretty bad mental scarring, even though he tried to play off the hurt and pain by being cocky and nonchalant.

When the heroes found out you were involved with the league and Dabi, especially romantically, you became a top priority for Endeavor to capture and lock away, so that's what happened. When you were caught, you were sent to Tartarus and servailenced 24/7, heavily armed guards would be posted in your room and right outside of it. The room littered with cameras, there was an inch of privacy in that tiny space you now called home. But you knew, you knew Dabi would save you, it would just take a little time, until then, you had to grin and bare it.

It was the same routine everyday, sitting in that small, padded room with cameras covering inch after inch, doing nothing but letting your mind drift away and thinking about the league but especially Dabi. How was he doing, what was he doing, did he miss you, was he even thinking about you? You didn't doubt he was but curiosity was eating at your brain and heart, taking over your thoughts. So, it was a big surprise when you were told you had visitors and the Todorokis, nonetheless. They were all there, Rei, Fuyumi, Natsuo, Shoto.... and I guess the man that Touya had to call father was there too. It would've been sweet too have such a messed up family if you didn't know their dirty little secrets and the reasons for visiting in the first place. They all looked empty- heartbroken even, their eyes full of sorrows and regret while Reis eyes leaked salty tears ,only to be comforted by daughter... huh, you wonder if any of them tried to comfort Touya that way. Then again, given the family and their dynamic, you highly doubt it. But, sat in front of this fucked up family as they stared you down and asked invasive questions, you started too understand it wasn't out of love for Touya, it was because of guilt and that just pissed you off a lot more. They weren't trying too right their wrongs, it was because they knew that they were horrible for what they did and they tried too quiet their guilt. So you can't really blame yourself for snapping and going off on that horrible man- thing. That horrible thing. "What would you say you're relationship to my son is." You scowled at Enjis question, a scoff falling from your lips unintentionally but you didn't try too stop it. Your eyes narrowed at that abusive man, only obsessed with the image of the so-called greater-good. He didn't even ask how Touya has been, how much the thought of his old man being praised for being a hero when in actuality, he was more of a villain then most were, ate at Touya every night, kept him up for days- weeks even- on end. "Don't. Call him that, Touya is no longer your son, he is no longer the boy that yearned for your praise and approval, no longer the boy that was willing to kill himself too make you happy. He's better, different now. His eyes have been opened to your disgusting ways of bullshit parenting." It was said more aggressively then you thought it was but, he needed too understand Dabi would never be Touya- their Touya, ever again, he was your Touya now and forever.

Endeavors hands tightened into fists at that, while his wifes eyes dropped, looking away and squeezing tightly as she breathed in a stuttered inhale. "He's still my son, I wasn't the best fath-" there's a quick cut off from you as you shifted in your seat. "No. You weren't even a father to begin with, so don't give me that bullshit speech that you're sorry and you regret what you did because I don't care to listen to it, you can give your traumatized family that bullshit but I won't listen to it." It's spat at him, your voice raising in pitch towards the end of your sentence as you scowled at the false hero. You didn't mean to go on a tangent rant but.. it happened. "You, Enji Todoroki, abused your children. You attempted to use them for your own selfish desires and make up for your pathetic failures and all your overwhelming undoings. You. Are no man- especially not a father. No father would ever. Force their child to take on such a burden, so young in their life. No man would ever put his hands on a woman- much less their wife. The woman who gave you those children in the first place. The woman who took care of them and bathed them, dressed them, read them bed time stories while you chased after a dream you, yourself acknowledged would never happen on your own, so you tried to live through your children. And you, Rei Todoroki. The first time that man put his fucking hands on you or your children, you should've left him. Don't ever let a man put his fucking hands on your children. Ever. You. Are no mother. No mother would throw boiling water on her sons face because she couldn't stand the piece of shit man that she was forced too marry. Your kids are their own people and have their own dreams. The reason the both of you even have kids was selfish from the get-go. I'm happy Touya got out- got away. None of your kids deserved that, but especially Touya. Now leave." By the end of it, Rei was in tears and Enjis teeth were clenched so tight, you thought they were gonna break as his fists were tight and shaking, his knuckles turning pale, ghost white as his eyes became wet and started too sting. The family left quickly after that as the door slammed behind them.

You couldn't wait for Dabi to end Enji Todorokis pathetic life of lies.

[dyns33]

No Fear

Being a while since I wrote about Homelander. I want to do a second part for this story, but I'm not sure about the ending yet.

Homelander didn't have a soulmate.

That was what was written in his file, written by scientists who had brought him into the world, raised him in a lab, studied him for years, in order to make him the ultimate superhero.

If you had asked Y/N for her opinion, she would have said that they hadn't done a great job, and that the report could be thrown in the toilet.

For the most part, Frenchie's partners seemed to agree with this conclusion.

When he had called her to ask for a favor, she had hesitated. Vought was a big fish, and Y/N had never liked fishing.

The job paid well, as well paid as it was dangerous. But that wasn't the problem. because danger didn't scare her. She wasn't afraid of anything.

If she had to thank her father, it was for showing her that soulmates were bullshit, that no one should be trusted, and that there was no reason to be afraid.

The worst thing that could happen was death, relentless, certain, and since she had died in their basement during the time he had kept her locked up, there was nothing left to make her tremble.

If she hesitated, it was because she didn't know Frenchie's companions well, he wasn't always reliable himself, and she hated wasting her time with undoable jobs.

She had followed from afar the adventures of the small team against the big bad corporation that created fake heroes, and they had never really had any results.

For her part, Y/N didn't give a damn about the supes. She had no direct grievance against them. They were assholes like billions of others in the world, the only difference being that they were harder to kill.

Butcher's rage against Homelander was understandable, after what he had done to his wife, his soulmate. If he didn't try to stab her in the back to achieve his ends, everything would be fine.

The supe didn't have a soulmate, since he was superior to everyone, he came out of a tube and he had no soul. It was possible to use the information to hurt his fragile ego in constant demand for love, but nothing else.

It seemed smarter to avoid annoying Homelander, or even if possible not to attract his attention so that the job would go well.

But Butcher was not able to keep his distance nor his tongue in his pocket, to the point that his best enemy could recognize his scent on other people.

"How's dear William ?" Homelander purred as if everything was normal, while he was alone in the Vought elevator with Y/N, who had posed as a delivery girl.

"Dying but still a pain in the ass."

"I don't think we've met before. He recruits into his little gang of losers and they send them to get killed instead of him ? That's heartbreaking."

"Hmm." was Y/N's response who hadn't looked at him for a single second, focused on counting the time left for Serge's creation to hack the building's systems.

"… Excuse me, I'm telling you I'm going to break your neck."

"That's great, big guy. I would believe it if there wasn't a camera, no proof that I'm a criminal or a danger, and you didn't look like you were totally having a blast. This is my floor, bye."

She even had the audacity to pat him on the shoulder as she left, which left him speechless.

It had really happened without her thinking about it. The problem with being afraid of nothing and not caring at all about Homelander.

If she had been a little more interested, Y/N would have known that he hated being ignored more than anything, but that he was also very intrigued when people weren't scared in front of him.

Since he didn't have a soulmate, he quickly and dangerously latched onto people who made him feel something other than disgust.

It was Frenchie who had insisted on installing surveillance cameras in the small apartment she was renting for the duration of the mission, since she refused to stay with them longer than necessary.

Half-laughing, she had told him that he was a pervert. Since she didn't see the need for this surveillance at all, Y/N had never looked at the footage.

No point in looking at empty rooms or herself sleeping, the rare times she was there.

"Maybe you should look, love." Butcher muttered with a serious look that he rarely displayed, almost as if he was worried about another human being.

"Because you have access to the images ? Do I have to charge you a subscription ?"

"Haha, you're not my type. But obviously, you had an effect on the super cunt."

Since the elevator, Y/N had seen Homelander two or three times. They hadn't really talked, she had continued to talk to him as if he were just a harmless guy with a big maniac smile and his eyes that never left her.

There had been a tiny change the last time. A strange feeling in her chest, a buzzing in her ears, and Y/N had felt like he was coming, which was impossible.

With his vision passing through walls, his sense of smell and his obvious paranoia, Homelander also always seemed to know where she was.

That didn't explain his recurring presence in her apartment.

He had first come when she wasn't there. According to Billy, the supe loved doing that, to study the enemy, mark his territory, prove that he could do what he wanted.

Like a big cat, Homelander could be seen wandering around the rooms, touching absolutely everything, searching the fridge, testing the couch, sniffing her clothes.

Y/N wasn't going to pretend that it made her happy. But they were just objects, nothing really important. While he was having fun like a child, she could enter protected areas with the certainty of not running into him.

The problem was rather when he came while she was there.

Sometimes while she was showering, he could be seen through the window, or who remained in the entrance, staring at the wall, before leaving. It was ridiculous to feel uncomfortable, because he could see through her clothes absolutely all the time.

More and more often, he came while she was sleeping. Y/N had had nightmares for a large part of her childhood. It still happened sometimes, waking her up with a start, feeling stupid.

While she was tormented by her inner demons, her body continued to not give a damn about the superhero standing right next to her. Sometimes, when she was agitated, he would put his gloved hand on her cheek, as if he wanted to reassure her. You couldn't say that it had any effect, but it seemed to please her.

He didn't touch her as much as he could have. Most of the time, he just looked at her, standing more or less close.

Obviously, he sometimes talked to her. The video didn't pick up the sound, so it was impossible to tell what he was saying.

Homelander was in the middle of a long monologue when he strangely froze, leaning over Y/N, and kissing her without warning. A quick, simple kiss, so simple that it hadn't woken her up despite a slight flinch.

It had been several weeks already. Since then, he came regularly, almost all night long, and by hacking into a few surveillance cameras, it was obvious that he also followed her during the day whenever he had the chance.

Y/N had often had this strange feeling when he was around, without ever being able to determine what it was.

"… Shit." she murmured as she looked at the images.

"Shit indeed."

"This is going to be a problem, a real problem. I mean, he was already keeping an eye on Butcher, so now it's going to be impossible to move without that motherfucker on our backs."

"We could use that."

"No, Butcher !" Hughie said with his expression of constant worry that was bordering on constipation. "It's too dangerous !"

It took Homalander coming just to save her for Billy to admit that there was indeed a problem.

For the cunt to save him from the explosion of Stilwell's house to laugh and show him Becca and Ryan, okay. But for him to break the sound barrier, traveling all over town, just to catch Y/N, when he had no way of knowing she was in danger ?

That bastard was known for having no heart, but at that moment, he thought of his wife, he thought of what she had been through, and even if he didn't know Y/N well, he didn't want her to end up like that.

"You have to get out of here."

"And what ? I hide in a zinc-walled dungeon for the rest of my life, praying that he doesn't find me or that he gets tired of me ? Please, Butcher. Because he will get tired of me, I'm sure of it."

She wasn't sure. She knew these types of guys. For a long time, she had hoped that her father would come to his senses and let her go. Then she had stabbed him thirty-two times before burning down the house.

After several attempts, it was obvious that it would not be possible to do the same thing with Homelander. But he hated humans, it could only be a passing fascination.

A way to fill the boredom and emptiness, since he had no other women to harass, all the others having been killed or committed suicide.

Running away could have been a good option, since it would have indicated that Y/N was afraid and it would have been a disappointment to Homelander. But he could have still chased her away just for that.

"Why does it always have to end like this with you Serge ?"

"What can I do, chérie ? It's all your natural charm. You broke my heart the first time we met, so it's not that incredible that you seduced the great fucking Homelander."

"You fall in love with everyone. He hates 'mud people'."

"You're not 'people'. I shouldn't have brought you here, désolé."

Frenchie spoke to her as if she were already dead. The whole team looked at her with sad and resigned eyes.

The receptionist looked at her the same way when Y/N showed up at the reception of the ridiculous Vought tower, asking to see the flying cunt. In fact, the request had made the woman laugh at first, a mocking laugh, but she had still called Homelander's apartment, and that's where she had looked panicked.

But maybe it was more about the fate he had reserved for her for speaking badly to Y/N, and not for the future of the woman who got into the elevator, armed only with her courage and a small knife hidden in her shoe.

Homelander's bright blue eyes looked at it with a small smile, as if he found it adorable, before returning to her face.

"We need to talk." Y/N said calmly as she stood in the middle of the hallway.

"I think so."

And if at the end of their little discussion, there was no way to reason with him, then one of them wouldn't be leaving this apartment, even if she had a pretty good guess as to which one it would be.

[frownyalfred]

GLIMMERGLAMMER DELETED ALL THEIR FICS?!? This is devastating news I had no idea. This explains some of my deleted bookmarks… 😭😭

Yep. This is why we have to be nice to our fandom authors. The relentless harassment and locked comments, blocked anons etc are SO pervasive. It runs you down until you don’t want to write anymore. Until you don’t find joy in fandom and want out.

I feel so bad for them and their parting tumblr post pissed me off (on their behalf), not as a reader but as a writer. Because I’ve been through the same anti bullshit on a smaller scale and I hate that it’s happening to these amazing, talented authors. They do so much for free and fandom punishes them.

I’m also upset that many people were mad at glimmerglanger for deleting all their fics. That’s their choice 100% and while it crushed me as a reader and fan to lose those, I understand. We shouldn’t make this worse by kicking anyone when they’re already down.

TL;DR: be nice to authors. really.

[doberbutts]

Thank you for making the schindler post, it perfectly illustrates why I hate the way people will act like people who hurt others (like active nazis and racists) aren't capable of regular emotion and thought. Second chances are often seen as bad when it comes to violence and crime, but if you never give someone the chance to change, form different opinions, or see the damage they or their associates have caused, they'll just keep taking the path of least resistance, keep following orders. I just want people to take a serious look at a nazi who changed his mind. There is nothing inherently evil about anyone, there are only moral and immoral choices.

It helps, I think, to understand that he did not join the nazi party because he hated Jews. Even what research I did on the real man said that for the most part his reasons for siding with Hitler were purely economical. And, as I've said before, Hitler did not start with "I hate Jews let's kill them all" but with "look how bad the economy sucks! And who is doing well while the economy sucks? The Jews. That means they're the ones behind making the economy suck!" to get people on his side.

I think Schindler did have some internalized antisemitism. How could he not? He thought of the plan to use almost exclusively Jewish slave labor as good business sense. Cheaper than Poles, more desperate for the work and thus less likely to complain about conditions or quit, can't fuss about wanting wages or better hours, what's not to like? Supposedly his workers were treated well. I don't know if that makes it particularly better. I wonder how his workers felt, staring at the emblem proudly pinned to his jacket, knowing it stood for the extermination of their entire people.

I wonder if any of them ever considered it might be a trick. An elaborate long game to get them to trust and slip up. To get them to reveal the hiding places and secret messages and the others striving to find or make a way out.

I think the movie played with that concept a little bit, when the character of Stern (who apparently was 3 different real guys rolled into 1) is portrayed as always being a little standoffish and cold to Schindler until close to the very end. He was afraid of him. Schindler held not only his life but the lives of all of the people working there (plus more, irl) in his hands. He rubbed shoulders with high ranked officials and knew personally more than one known sadistic bastard that actively got off on murdering Jews. All it would take is a single word and it would be more than just those in the factory who died.

But then the ghetto was cleansed. In history, Schindler had advance warning and made his workers lock themselves in the factory overnight to spare them. In the movie, Schindler did not have warning, and saw the chaos from atop a vantage point as he'd meant to pass by.

Either way, both in life and in film, that was the line. He was, at minimum, willfully blind and passive to the evidence of what was happening up to that point. Once he couldn't deny it, he put his foot down and said, no more. I'm not doing this. I can't save everybody but you aren't getting your hands on anyone in my charge. Put me in jail if you have to. This is wrong.

He had everything to gain by continuing to look away. In the movie, Stern says something to the tune of "you'll have to hire Hungarians and Poles. They cost a little more but you'll still be rich" when they're both faced with Hitler's final solution. No more cheap Jewish labor when they're all dead, after all. It is at that point that they come up with the list- to get as many Jews as possible out of Germany before they're all sent to their deaths. He could have just said "yeah, sorry. I tried". Stern even more or less gave him permission to do so, like he was expecting it.

But he didn't. He said no fuck that, it's bullshit. It's not happening. I'm not letting it happen. They can arrest me or kill me if they want but if I'm alive for it I'm not just going to stand back and watch.

But I think it is difficult for people to grapple with that level of complexity. Not everyone he saved thinks he was overall a good person. His motives were not always pure. In fact many times his motives were just about lining his own pockets. But when he saw atrocities happen, he put his foot down and refused to participate. Even at his own cost- he had the equivalent amount of money back then as would be needed to retire early nowadays from his factory labor. He spent it on bribes and rations to keep them safe. He went to jail several times for refusing to back down. He risked his own neck by networking with other factory owners to get them to do the same. He could have been executed for this at any point. Nazis loved public spectacle executions for traitors and for collusion with Jews.

He wasn't a perfect ally. But I think I'd rather an imperfect ally do whatever they can to help, than no allies at all.

[cerismo]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

P1. P2. P3. P4.

𐙚 . . . pairing. toxic!rafe x toxic!fem kook!olivia wilson

୨ৎ . . . genre. slow burn. everyone else can see it but them (trope)

.ᐟ . . . content warnings. cussing, arguing

Rafe Cameron and Olivia Wilson were too blind to see their love for each other.

“please please please, don’t prove I’m right”

I had just slapped Rafe fucking Cameron. The prince of the kooks. The son of Ward Cameron. Was I about to be in a shitload of trouble. I froze in absolute fear of what might happen next.

Rafe just froze. His blue eyes now filled with anger and even more hatred than I could possibly imagine. Everyone around was now staring, intrigued by the previous events that had just occurred.

“Olivia Rennee fucking Wilson. I’m gonna ask you one time and one time only. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?!?” He screamed so loud that everyone around jumped in fear and utter shock. Yeah Rafe had a violent side but I mean it never showed like this, did I really piss him off that bad, I mean he did call me a slut…

I opened up and closed my mouth a countless number of times searching for the right words to say, but then it hit me in this very moment that I didn’t owe anything to Rafe. So I said the first thing that came to mind, which was the obvious. “You called me a fucking slut. And I am not a slut.” I said moving closer towards him and jabbing my finger in his chest.

“Shit you cloud be fooled me. You were practically begging to fuck Travis.” He said with one hand on his hip and the other pushing my hand back down to my side. I looked around at everyone, and eventually locked eyes either Travis. I quickly shifted my gaze towards my feet in the warm evening sand. The tears started to fill up in my eyes, treating to spill over, but I fought back as hard as I could. But failed in the end, I looked back up and everyone was still staring, I met eyes with the evil, and cruel man in front of me.

“I wasn’t begging to fuck him, and it’s a fucking party, everyone fucking. Are you telling me I can’t have fun now?” I said with sarcasm high in my voice and anger coursing through my rims. The tears I had were well gone away by now. I was just fucking angry that he would even say something like that, in front of everyone. Once again he fucking embarrassed me.

“I BEG YOU DON’T EMBARRASS ME MOTHERFUCKER”

“See Olivia, this is why I didn’t want you at this fucking party anyway. You don’t fucking listen.” He seemed so angry with me even though I should be the angry one, and I am. Why the fuck was he so upset that I was “begging to fuck Travis”? It’s not like he hasn’t slept with almost the whole fucking Outerbanks.

“Well you’re not my fucking Father so shut the hell up and back off.” I said snapping at him, officially done with his bullshit. I was beginning to turn around to go back and receive comfort from my friends when he grabbed my fucking arm for like the tenth time today, but this time a little harder than the others, as if that was even possible.

He started dragging me back up the trail leaving my friends and any other partygoers that were listening in and watching in confusion.

“Rafe let me go. Rafe-“ I struggled to escape the grasp of his weirdly large hands. The whole walk was silent yet again. We had finally reached my car, and once again he almost fucking threw me against my car. “Can you stop fucking throwing me against things please.” I said straightening my dress, and rubbing the soreness from Rafes grasp on my arm.

“Go home Olivia.” He said his face emotionless, I stared at his blank face searching for anything, anything that could help me understand why he was being this way towards me, of course we hated each other but did he have to embarrass me in front of all the fucking kids on the island.

He watched me for a while before speaking again. “Get your ass in the fucking car Olivia!” He was now yelling at me once again, if the people on the beach didn’t hear us earlier they definitely heard us now.

“Why the hell should I Rafe? It’s my fucking life, I can do what I-“ I couldn’t even finish my fucking sentence before Rafe was yet again grabbing my arm, and throwing me in my own car. I just sat there for a minute. I rolled down the window and blankly stared at Rafe.

I sighed as I knew that this wasn’t going anywhere. “What about Sarah, I picked her up?” I asked softly not even having the energy to argue anymore.

“Don’t worry about her, just take your ass home Olivia.” Rafe said rubbing his entire face through his hands. He glanced back up at me and ga me a “well what are you waiting for” kinda look. I sighed once again and started the engine placing my car in reverse, backing out of the lot.

Rafe was already making his way back to the party, before I even left the lot. I sighed in relief that this conversation was over, or so I thought…

MO YAPS

tagged: @venusxsturnio, @flouvela, @monroesturnns

AHHHH guys. This is getting intense like i’m genuinely worried for liz, like their on first name basis now? And those arm grabs are starting to scare me, I should stop…

Anywaysss lemme know your thoughts in the comments or reblog, it’s appreciated <3

[achaotichuman]

Acotar Rant

Nesta is not mean to Feyre unprovoked. There is always some outside factor, or direct provoking that pushed her to her limits.

Nesta is not being mean to Feyre because that's just who she is. She is mad at the situation she is forced into, and often times sick of the IC's bullshit and they're constant need to harass her.

Feyre refused to respect Nesta's space after she had been through a highly traumatic experience and, along with the IC, villainized her for not getting over her trauma in a year and going to live with her along with her mate who hates her guts and has from the very start.

Feyre wanted Rhysand to mind-rape Nesta and Elain to make them allow the IC to turn their home into their meeting place, and the only reason it never happened was that Feyre 'didn't want to suggest it' but it doesn't change the fact that was a genuine thing she considered.

Feyre allows and even believes it is fully acceptable for Rhysand to continually disrespect and undermine Nesta. Feyre thinks it's acceptable for Cassian to constantly harass Nesta.

Feyre gave away Nesta and Elain to Ianthe which allowed for them to be kidnapped, assaulted and turned Fae. Nesta is allowed to resent her for that.

Feyre doesn't get the high ground in this situation. Back in the cottage Feyre was putting in the hard work, she kept them alive and fed, she was the one making money for them, no one denies that ever.

Nesta also braved the Faery world and tried to rescue Feyre from Prythian in book one and was only stopped by the The Wall. Nesta fought for humans in the War and saved Cassian's ass multiple times.

Feyre can be hurt, but she does not have the authority to try and convince Nesta to live with her and her mate (who I will repeat HATES HER) and then act annoyed when Nesta notices she didn't paint her in her family portrait, whilst she included their neglectful father who did nothing for them for years either. Especially when their father let Tamlin take her with no pushback and even said for Feyre to not to come back.

Nesta only snaps when she is pushed to her limits which Feyre does intentionally multiple times throughout the books. In that start of book one they are constantly snapping at each other.

Feyre and the IC push and prod at Nesta and then get upset when she snaps at them. Thats what happened all throughout the series.

Rhysand stans like to act as though Nesta was a big bad bully picking on Feyre, when in reality, the IC went from actively ignoring and occasionally harassing her, to locking her up with a man she has explicitly stated she does not like or trust.

But yeah sure, Feyre is the victim.

"Oh but Nesta spent their money" Yeah yeah yeah Rhysand's poor blood money that he has a whole hoard of. How terrible. Can you tell I don't give two shits?

Velaris has slums, or places like slums (which even with that wording does not make it ANY better) along with pleasure halls where women have to resort to selling their body. Neither Rhysand nor Feyre get to say shit about Nesta spending their money when their so called best city in their massive lands has families in poverty.

Not even mentioning the Illyrian women and children they ignore and actively exploit. Along with the Hewn City women that they also ignore and torment.

Feyre is not some poor baby being forced to put on a smile because Nesta is being oh so mean to her. She actively contributes to hurting and provoking her.

Stop acting as though Feyre cannot make mistakes, do bad things, or make horrible decisions. You're making her into a 2-dimensional character with no complexity.

[onlylove4louis]

"We're in the endgame now"... We're gearing up for the final horror show, where everyone loses. And I'm tired of the hate I'm seeing in this fandom for Louis. I want absolutely nothing to do with any of it.

If you hate Louis. Block me

(I do not care in the slightest why you do, I don't care)

If you feel Louis is to blame for literally everything, and/or you're consistently posting about how much you think everything his his fault. Block me

If all you care about is Claudia and you treat Louis like a 'whipping boy' or 'punching bag' or Scapegoat, for her. Block me

If you are incapable of understanding that Claudia can mess up and make mistakes too, that she's just as capable of making bad decisions and being responsible for some of what's happening to her, based on choices she's made. Just like EVERYONE ELSE. And instead you want to act like that's impossible and anything wrong that happens regardless, is Louis' "fault". Block me

If you consistently act like everything about Louis, his choices, decisions and actions. Everything he does and everything that happens to him, is ALL about her. Block me

If you have no compassion, sympathy, empathy, or capacity for actually even trying to understand Louis. Block me

If you're actively blaming him for what's going to happen in Paris. Block me

If you're already saying outrageous stuff like "he let her die". Block me

If you're actively wishing, or post about how you hope Louis dies. Block me

If you consistently treat Louis like he's just a plot vehicle for Claudias character. Block me

If you genuinely are convinced that Louis doesn't love or care for Claudia. Block me

If you think it's perfectly okay for her to mistreat and abuse him. Or anyone else for that matter. Block me

If you're constantly on your shit about him at all, just so that you can boast up Claudias character. Block me

If you can watch Louis be marched down a sewer to his "death" and watch him be willing to die, if it means Claudia will be able to be happy and accepted and taken care of. And all you can think about is heaping more hate on him, in favor of Claudia. Block me

If you can watch him slowly spiral into madness and force himself to keep it all together and lock it away, with no one to help him, just so that he can smile for Claudia. And all you can think or post about is how "selfish" he is. Saying stupid stuff like he betrayed her, he never does anything for her, blah blah blah. Block me

-> I just simply don't want to see it, and I'm so tired of coming across the bullshit that people are constantly spouting and posting about, when it comes to Louis. While treating NONE of the other characters the same. I'm tired of getting on this site, and spending the majority of time, daily, blocking people. You feel however you want about Louis, hate him all you want, I don't care. I just don't want to see it. So please, if you come across this and you identify with ANY of the above, just block me. Easiest way to not see your garbage, accidently, while scrolling here just trying to enjoy this show and this fandom, and this character. I'm only interested in those who either love him, understand him, have compassion for him, see him as his own character/person. Are able to understand that regardless of how toxic and damaged and unstable and monstrous he is or can be, that just like everyone else, he too deserves companionship and love. That he doesn't deserve to be abused and traumatized and manipulated and used. That he doesn't exist just for Claudia... And of course those who, while he may not be their favorite character (which is fine) are still able to give him grace and space and the same treatment and consideration, they afford other characters. So yeah, if you've made it to this point and you feel "called" out or "attacked" or upset by any of the above, you're most likely one of the people I'm talking to/about. Block me. I'm no one important, you wont miss anything, it wont matter at all. Please just hit that block button, because I sincerely want nothing to do with you or anything you have to say.

[chelseeebe]

pick a side or i’ll pick you both. (part two)

blood, guts and gore. cheating, smut.. idk what there isn’t in here.

summary: what happens when the hunter becomes the hunted? does anyone make it out of hawkins alive?

a/n: idk if i like this hehe. i’ve also not really read it through bc i detest reading anything i’ve written so excuse any mistakes. i’ve written a small epilogue for this which i’m gonna post separately soon!

taglist: @manyfandomsfanvergent @nope-thanks @secretdryrose @bibieddiesgf @val-writesstuff

part one. | part two. | epilogue.

for a memorial, things were pretty wild. suppose with the whole town still reeling from the murders, it was to be expected that people wanted to let loose.

including steve.

who was sat jabbering on about nancy and the amazing memories he held with jason. utter bullshit. but he was incredibly intoxicated so you’d let him off.

you stay away from the drink, nursing a singular beer all night. too afraid to get drunk and let go of your inhibitions. unsure of what you might let slip.

eddie was at least keeping his part of the deal, sat in the corner with jonathan. feeding him shots and occasionally disappearing to the garden to smoke. you watched on anxiously. getting sly looks from eddie every now and again.

they weren’t exactly telling you much.

he nods towards the stairs, standing up and walking away. you waited a moment before following. fobbing steve off to a member of the basketball team sat next to you.

you have to open every last door and eventually find eddie perched against the sink in the bathroom. gnawing on the skin around his fingernails.

‘finally,’ he remarks, throwing his hands up.

you lock the door behind you and stand opposite him, ‘so? what did he say?’

eddie sighs, finishing off his drink, ‘well, the bad news is that he definitely thinks you had something to do with it.’

‘what?’ you hiss, widening your eyes at how nonchalantly he just said that.

‘but,’ he pauses for dramatic effect, ‘he thinks steve’s involved.. some jealous ex thing, he wasn’t really making sense at this point.’

you exhale, so jonathan doesn’t necessarily think you killed nancy. just that you helped steve do it. which wasn’t really any better.

‘fuck,’ you sigh, rubbing your forehead. where the fuck do you go from here besides the obvious?

‘hey, maybe it’s not all that bad.. he doesn’t think it was you exactly, we could just.. convince him it was someone else?’

‘he thinks it was steve,’ you say pointedly, ‘my boyfriend? the entire reason we started this shit in the first place?’

‘yeah so.. we frame someone else. one last kill.. murder-suicide. someone you really have it in for,’ he shrugs, his calm demeanour was really irking. he should be more scared.

you ponder for a second, you didn’t really hold hate for anyone apart from nancy. well, maybe there was a few people. tommy fucking hagan for one. steve’s desperate best friend who you were sure definitely wanted to fuck your boyfriend.

but why would he murder any of these people?

maybe nancy was some weird homoerotic jealousy thing.. higgins because he always seemed to be in some sort of trouble? leaving jason, who you were sure he’d never even spoken to.

‘i don’t know,’ you shake your head, stuck on where to go from here.

killing jonathan was an option. get rid of him before he could spill anymore of his stupid theory to anybody else. he was the only person that had suspected you.

the police had partially moved on from the school. looking further into the community for answers. grilling innocent people on their whereabouts last week.

someone bangs on the door, screaming about needing the bathroom and interrupts your entire conversation.

you hadn’t thought about how you’d get out of the bathroom with eddie. how strange it looked the two of you being in here alone.

you look up at him and then the window. his eyes follow your gaze and he immediately shakes his head no.

‘no. i’m not jumping out of the fucking window, are you crazy?’

‘what else are you gonna do?’

‘why don’t you go out the window? i was in here first,’ he hushes, the desperate party goer now slamming the door.

‘i’m not going out the window,’ you look around desperately for anyway out of this, ‘get in the bath.’

‘what?’

‘bath,’ drawing back the curtain and gesturing for him to get in.

he scoffs but admits defeat as he climbs into the white tub, it was a hell of a lot better than falling thirty feet to the ground.

you pull the curtain back, hiding him behind the thin plastic. gathering yourself for a moment before opening the door.

the desperate attendee in question is jonathan. looking a pale shade of green and covering his mouth. he doesn’t even acknowledge you before pushing past, hunching over the toilet and emptying his stomach.

god bless eddie who was now guaranteed to be stuck in the bathroom for at least another hour.

it gives you a small giggle as you make your way back to steve. now stood up, wildly gesturing around and still boring the pants off of everyone in the room.

-

the party had died down in the early hours and you’d managed to get steve to bed. though, it was a struggle carrying him up the stairs. even now he was talking about nancy and jason. you’d wanted to just let him go. let him fall and then maybe he’d shut up about his dead ex.

eddie had escaped back downstairs at some point and had passed out next to robin on the couch, lying over each other in a mess of drunken limbs.

steve falls asleep sprawled over the bed, one arm draped over your waist, rambling about how good you were and that you always do so much for me.

he had no idea.

you hadn’t really been sleeping lately, far too much swirling around your brain to shut it off. horrifying nightmares of the pool of blood surrounding nancy. the gargling sound higgin’s had made as he met his end. the sheer look of terror on jason’s face as eddie had taken his life.

though you must’ve dozed off at some point. being woken by steve’s groaning.

‘hungover?’ you ask, opening one eye to peek at him.

‘you could say that, yeah,’ his voice rough, one arm extending out to pull you closer.

‘you’re lucky i bought you up here.. you’re heavy as shit,’ you chuckle, running your fingers through his messy hair.

this is why you had to do what you did. for moments like these. where it all seemed worth it.

‘mhm thank you,’ he squints at you, a small smile on his face, ‘definitely feel better waking up next to you.’

you return the smile, humming in response.

‘y’know what would make me feel even better?’ he states huskily, moving on top of you, his smile replaced with a little smirk.

‘hmm? what’s that?’ fingers intertwining in his hair, moving your legs for him to slip between.

he responds by kissing your lips. you ignore the smell of alcohol and last nights party, returning the kiss. you two hadn’t had sex since.. well, since before you’d brutally killed his ex girlfriend. not for lack of trying, though.

his hand slides up your thigh, reaching your pajama shorts while his tongue makes its way into your mouth. his fingers toy with the elastic waistband and you move your hips against him, feeling his growing erection.

your shorts are halfway down your legs when the door knocks. eliciting a deep groan from his throat, although he doesn’t pull back in hopes they’d go away.

they don’t. knuckles wrap against the wood once again.

‘what’d you want?’ he hollers, still on top of you, elbows digging into the mattress either side of your shoulders.

the door creaks open and you’re not at all shocked to see eddie stood in the doorframe, ‘we uh- we wanted to make coffee.. couldn’t figure out your machine,’ he utters and you swear you can see the slightest smirk.

steve exhales sharply, ‘seriously?’

‘yeah man.. people are dying down there,’ eddie states, as if it’s the most serious subject in the world.

steve looks back at you, ‘i’ll be two minutes,’ planting one last kiss before rolling off of you with a grumble.

you pull the duvet up, eddie’s gleaming eyes not leaving you once as steve pulls on his discarded jeans from last night.

‘lead the way, coffee man,’ eddie laughs, still looking at you.

steve pushes past him, making his way down the hallway but eddie doesn’t follow. lingering in the doorway with a smug grin on his face.

‘dickhead,’ you mouth, attempting to bore holes in his head with your eyes. he most definitely waited for the perfect moment to come and interrupt. it was kinda his thing.

‘whoops,’ he shrugs, turning to follow steve down into the kitchen.

good god you could’ve slammed his head into the damn doorframe until that stupid look was wiped right off of his face.

you give steve five minutes before huffing and getting out of bed, walking down to the full kitchen. you can vaguely hear robin and steve arguing over something stupid.

eddie clocks you first, eyeing your exposed thighs before meeting your gaze. same sly grin on his face.

you roll your eyes, ignoring his very existence and wrap your arms around steve’s waist, laying your cheek on his spine.

he jumps slightly but quickly realises who the hell is touching him and settles into the embrace, still trying to demonstrate how to use a coffee machine to robin. ignoring the feeling of a certain pair of eyes boring into your back.

-

you tumbled into the back of his van, suddenly extremely grateful that he’d decided to bring this instead of your moms car. though the risk of being seen in this death trap was much higher.

you’d gone to tommy’s house to try and end this shit tonight. luckily, his bedroom was on the ground floor, there’s be no scaling of any buildings tonight.

it hadn’t particularly gone to plan though. you’d perched on either side of his window for what felt like forever when he stumbled in, carol fucking perkins in tow. of course. shit could never go to plan, could it?

you’d had to call it off. having never tackled a double kill before, you were not going to try tonight. no, it wasn’t worth it. not when all you were doing was trying to end this shit.

you yank the mask off, lifting the black polyester gown over your head, your shirt rising up as it’s launched into the corner. of course he’s watching, desperate for any last slither of skin.

does murder make you horny? was it the fucking mask? is that what this was? a mask kink?

his bottom lip between his teeth was driving you nuts. you wouldn’t ever do this. not normally. but you move over to him on your knees, not bothering to fix your shirt.

he opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt whatever unintelligent spiel he was about to come out with, pressing your lips to his, clambering onto his lap.

his hands immediately find their place on your waist, working on fully removing your shirt. he lifts it up and over your head, resuming the passionate kiss as soon as it reached the dirty van floor.

you waste no time and reach between your bodies, grabbing at his belt buckle and undoing the metal clasp. the kiss messy, full of spit and tongues as you huff, struggling to remove his jeans.

there’s no words spoken, just a silent and slightly aggressive need to get inside of you as quickly as possible. your lacy underwear dragged down your thighs, almost in shreds at the ferocity he’d pulled them down.

your arms hung over his shoulders as he positions himself at the entrance of your throbbing cunt, lowering yourself onto him with a low moan. pausing for a moment to adjust to the fullness.

you don’t wait long before beginning to move, bouncing on top of him, only encouraged by the grunts and filthy words coming out of his mouth. picking up the pace, bare knees scraping against the rough ground of the van.

you throw your head back, whimpering as he begins to buck up into you. his hand slides up from your chest, finding place around your neck, giving it a slight squeeze.

‘holy shit,’ he breathes, your hips clashing against each other as his thrusts get harder, letting him take full control of the situation.

his hand moves down, palming your breast, his teeth almost splitting his bottom lip as he bites down on the skin. deep grunts slipping out of the small gap.

you look back at him, mouth hung open, ‘shit.. i’m gonna..’ the angle hitting perfectly, the denim of his jeans rubbing against your clit at just the right momentum.

‘yeah?’ he barks back, reaching his own climax, thrusts becoming sloppy as your walls clench around him, coming to your own high.

‘fuck,’ you whine, writhing above him, stilling your hips. pausing for a moment to come back to earth. to realise you were in the back of eddie’s old rusted van, his cock still inside of you.

you slide off, perching beside him, scrambling to find your discarded clothes and your long lost sense of dignity.

you pull the strap of your bra back up onto your shoulder, avoiding eddie’s eyes and fumbling for your shirt.

‘that’s not happening again,’ pulling your shirt over your head. it was like an immediate overwhelming feeling of guilt. every time.

‘you said that last time,’ he laughs, sitting back against the inside wall of his van, re-doing his belt.

you glare at him but don’t honour his remark with a response, gathering your things and shoving them into your small bag.

‘that one was all you, remember that,’ he adds, wiping his sweaty face with his t-shirt before pulling it on.

‘maybe if i wasn’t cockblocked, i wouldn’t be so.. frustrated,’ you sneer, crawling over to the double doors.

‘you can just say you want to fuck me.. the world isn’t going to end if you do,’ he shrugs.

‘yours might if you keep speaking like that,’ you warn, going to open the door.

eddie stops you before you can, a hand on your outstretched arm, ‘wait.’

‘what now?’

‘are we really doin’ this with tommy?’ he asks, suddenly completely stoic.

you exhale, ‘i don’t see how else we can end this,’ shrugging, ‘we have to.’

he nods slightly, avoiding your eyes, ‘okay.. as long as you’re sure.’

‘i am,’ you assure, ‘and then we go back to normal.’

-

since school had been called off for the foreseeable an array of parties had cropped up, including another at steve’s house. you think he just didn’t want to be alone. his parents were on another trip out of town and the house was so big, it’d be stupid not to gather everyone together in his house.

tommy was going to be there. you’d made sure of it with steve, asking under the guise of wanting to know all attendees just in case.

eddie was going to lure him away from the party with promises of a free joint. lucky for you, steve’s house backed onto a large, creepy forest where you’d be waiting, ready to get rid of tommy and dressing him in your murdering costume.

sneaking away from steve would be the hardest part, constantly clutching onto your hand and desperate to not get as drunk as last time in hopes he’d get lucky tonight.

eddie was waiting on your cue, you’d go out first and wait for them both in the forest. everything you needed was hidden out there before the party started.

‘i’m gonna go freshen up and get another drink, i’ll be back,’ you smile at steve, patting his arm and wriggling away from his hold.

‘i’ll come,’ he says, following you in standing up, a quickie in his bathroom would very much suffice.

‘no.. no it’s your party, stay here.. i’ll be five minutes.. ten tops,’ you nod, just praying that he wouldn’t insist.

he doesn’t. thank god. and you slip out of the house through the back door and out of the mossy garden gate, making sure the gaggle of teens in his backyard wouldn’t see you. they were too drunk to even care.

you breathe a sigh of relief when you find the tree you’d stashed everything behind, probably slightly unwise to do this all in the dark.

eddie springs into action the second you’d left, having already been chatting to tommy about the promise of weed, it doesn’t take long to get him to follow.

‘nah, let’s go to the woods.. i don’t want everyone bothering me for freebies y’know?’ eddie coax’s him out of the back garden and further into the forest where you were waiting.

a branch snaps to the left of your hiding spot and you can hear tommy’s irritating voice get louder as they get closer.

as soon as you appear from behind the tree, eddie grabs onto tommy’s arms, holding them in place behind his back.

‘woah woah, what the fuck are you doing?’ tommy scrambles, eyes wide and darting around the darkened forest.

‘oh tommy,’ you coo, walking over to the ginger and shoving the makeshift gag over his mouth, muffling his screams, ‘i wish it didn’t have to be this way.’

you throw the frayed rope to eddie and he wraps it around tommy’s wrists, tying it in what you hope is a tight knot. you’d known that realistically eddie couldn’t overpower tommy for long and as soon as the adrenaline hit, he’d be fighting back stronger.

eddie kicks the back of his knee and he falls down onto the ground, kicking his feet in the dirt, trying with all his might to get free from the ties.

eddie was hyper aware of your decision not to use the mask, the party continuing somewhere in the background, ‘we need to be quick,’ he presses, gritting his teeth as tommy thrashes around beneath him.

‘i am,’ you glare at him.

see, the plan was to frame tommy. make out that he’d dragged you into the forest. attacked you first. you’d just acted in self defence and got him before he could get you. even prepared to sustain a few injuries for good measure.

tommy shakes his head desperately, looking up at you with tearful eyes, the knife reflecting off his glossy eyes. he looked utterly pathetic and you’d wondered how many poor people he’d instilled this level of terror in.

tommy was an asshole, through and through. a real bully. and you’d detested the fact steve was still friends with him. even if it was because they’d been friends for so long as steve tried to tell you.

‘it’s not nice being on the receiving end now, is it?’ you poke him with the sharp knife, bent down to his level.

no no. he incoherently mumbles through the gag. he’d seemed to calm down slightly, maybe convincing himself that you were playing some cruel joke on him and he wasn’t actually about to die.

‘it’s a shame, really,’ you pout at him, ‘steve really likes you.. god knows why, i bet he’ll be really sad that you’re gone.. oh well.’

tommy’s breathing is laboured, sweat pouring from his forehead and you step between his legs, gripping onto the handle of the knife.

maybe that was a mistake as his legs clamp together, trapping yours in between his causing you to topple down onto him. cursing as you hit the ground, the knife falling somewhere in the dust.

‘shit,’ eddie hisses, stumbling to find the knife as tommy writhes around, trying to grip onto something, anything that’ll help him.

you get your bearings again, standing up and placing a foot on tommy’s back as he attempts to army crawl away from you.

‘you fucking idiot,’ you say through gritted teeth, eddie finds the knife amongst the leaves and hands it back to you, cussing at tommy for making him crawl around in the dirt.

you plunge the knife into his back, blood immediately soaking through his t-shirt as his arms flap around. a muted scream escapes the gag and you twist the knife slightly before removing it from the wound.

for good measure, eddie gives him a swift kick to the ribs, stopping any attempt at getting back up. you stab him again, this time in the side as if it was a desperate attempt to get him off of you in the pretend struggle.

he groans, head dropping to the floor, eyes drooping as he fights the imminent death. the blood seeps into the ground, colouring the dried autumn leaves a shade of red.

you watch as his movements get slower, weak attempts at shouting for help in his final breaths. until they stop. and he lays lifeless on the mud in front of you.

you swallow before looking at eddie who had that psychotic look on his face. it should’ve scared you, his eyes glinting with pure evil intentions. but it doesn’t. you know exactly how he felt. the euphoric feeling coursing through your veins.

you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. when his eyes meet yours, that familiar feeling throbs in your stomach. were you turned on by this? or was it just a need to excrete the energy that had built up inside?

you’re quickly snapped out of whatever weird trance you’re in when the party’s music stops and calls of your name ring out in the back yard.

shit. steve was definitely wondering where the fuck you’d gone. tommy had taken slightly longer than anticipated to get rid of.

you push the knife into eddie’s hand, ‘cut me,’ offering your arms to him.

‘no, what the fuck?’

‘eddie it has to look like a fight, cut me!’ you insist, almost grabbing the knife and doing it yourself.

he hesitates, ‘shit shit shit,’ he exclaims, lifting the knife to your arm.

‘do it!’

he does, sliding the knife across your arms and slashing the skin, drawing blood instantaneously.

you bite down on your lip, humming at the searing pain but urging him to continue. gesturing to your midriff area, blood dripping from your arms.

he glances at you quickly before pulling the knife across the skin, cutting open your shirt in the process. you nod over to tommy, if he was found tied up and gagged, you’d have another problem on your hands.

eddie saws off the rope, stuffing it into his jacket pocket alongside the gag. it had been planned meticulously you see, eddie was going to hand you off to whoever you saw first in the garden, rush off to ‘call the police’ and rid himself of any evidence in his van. everybody too preoccupied with your wounds to notice him disappear.

the police would come and you’d put your sixth grade drama classes to good use, telling them that tommy had pulled you out into the woods and just went crazy, slashing and stabbing at you. but oh no he’d dropped the knife and in your desperate attempt to survive you’d picked it up and stabbed him instead.

you were sure you could improvise if it really came down to it. it wasn’t like you weren’t actually in pain, the gash on your stomach stinging as the hem of your shirt rubbed against it.

eddie throws his arm around your waist, walking back to the now quiet party, ‘so i just.. found you out here, right?’

‘right,’ you breathe, gripping onto his denim jacket and preparing for the performance of a lifetime, ‘you were getting some fresh air.. heard a scream and found me.’

you near the gate and turn to nod at eddie, pulling your best in pain face as he swings open the gate. horrified party goers turn towards you, mouths wide at your gushing wounds.

you can vaguely see steve pushing through the crowd, sprinting over to take you from eddie’s hold.

‘what- what happened? what did you do?’ steve shouts, taking ahold of your arm and slinging it over his shoulder.

‘i-i didn’t do anything.. she was just out there like that.. i don’t know,’ eddie stutters, looking at you to back him.

‘it wasn’t.. it wasn’t eddie, steve.. tommy,’ you nod, putting on your best terrified face, clinging onto steve’s shirt as he sits you down on one of the garden chairs.

‘tommy? what are you saying?’ his eyes go wide at the accusation, crouching down to your level, keeping one hand pressed to the gash on your stomach.

it wasn’t really deep enough to cause any serious problems but christ was there a lot of blood.

‘he.. told me to follow him.. that you were out there, so- so i did.. and then.. there was a knife..’ you trail off, looking down at your wounds, hands beginning to shake.

you were really selling it, god, if this shit was a movie you’d for sure be owed a few awards for this performance. it was easy to cry seeing as eddie’s knife work actually was pretty painful. burning as the blood leaked into your clothes and onto steve’s hand.

it was the longest night of your life. spending hours at the hospital patching you up and making sure there were no internal injuries. and then carted off to the police station the second the nurse had okayed you going home.

steve followed along, waiting on the uncomfortable chairs as you re-told your story for the umpteenth time. ensuring that every detail was the same as the last time you told it. occasionally letting a few tears fall but putting on your best brave face so the officers take pity on you.

they do eventually. telling you that you’re so incredibly strong and they’ll be in contact soon about how they’re proceeding with this all. it worked though. they’d bought your story and you could get back to some sort of normality.

just this time without nancy or tommy fucking hagan trying to interject themselves in your relationship. the thought of having steve to yourself, finally, was enough motivation to sell this damn story and get it done with.

-

you hadn’t really thought about the implications of being the one to finally catch and kill the ‘infamous hawkin’s killer’. turns out just about everyone in the town now worshipped you. you were practically famous.

kids at school would come to you in the hallways, giving their sorry’s and telling you just how heroic you were.

it was sort of nice. well, after pushing aside the burning guilt inside of you.

you couldn’t fester on it too much though. what was the point? even if you did come clean at this point, who would’ve believed you? it was over. no reason to live in the past. it’s not like you could bring anyone back to life, so why not enjoy the glory?

steve was very clearly also enjoying the second-hand fame, making a point to throw his arm around you in the hallway and making sure everyone knew that you two were together.

in the whirlwind of shit you’d kind of neglected everyone else. especially eddie. though, you were kinda glad that part of it was over. you didn’t need to be reminded of the shit you’d done every time you saw dark curly hair. about what you’d done together.

he bounded up to you one day at school, ‘i need to talk to you,’ his voice hushed, hand gingerly grabbing your arm.

‘i’m kinda busy right now eddie,’ you reply, grabbing your books from your locker, trying your hardest not to look at him.

‘it’s important,’ he dips his head, ‘it’s about.. you know..’

‘well then it’s not important,’ you bit back, slamming your locker shut.

‘please.. i-i don’t know what to do,’ he pressed, desperate to get you to listen.

‘find me at lunch or something.. i’ve gotta go,’ you walked off, finding steve who was waiting for you up ahead, disregarding whatever eddie was talking about immediately.

it didn’t matter now.

-

‘steve?’ you call out. if his parents car wasn’t there, which was rarely, you’d just walk in. he’d get you your own key if he could.

you’d move in if it were up to you. since everything had died down a tad, you’d been closer than ever. exactly why you’d done everything in the first place. it was perfect.

there’s no response, which is odd. his car was outside and the door was unlocked. usually he’d come bounding downstairs at the sound of the door closing. nothing.

you pull a face and swing round into the kitchen, wondering if he’d just not heard you. nope. empty.

‘steve?’ you ask again, met with the exact same silence as before.

‘if you’re playing some prank on me, i will punch you,’ you warn, beginning to climb the stairs.

still nothing.

his bedroom door was closed which was also usual if his parents weren’t home but maybe he’d fallen asleep after basketball and couldn’t hear you.

you twist the handle, slowly opening the door so that you could scare him.

you’re met with the image of steve’s limp body bundled into the corner, head hanging down to his chest. your stomach flips, not knowing if he was even still alive.

‘he’s not dead, don’t worry,’ eddie’s voice calls out, appearing from behind the en-suite door.

your eyes widen at the sight of him. what the fuck had he done?

‘eddie.. what the fuck? what have you done?’ you manage to croak out, slowly moving towards steve��s body.

‘i wouldn’t if i were you,’ he comes further out of the bathroom, knife in hand, pointing the sharp edge at you.

you stop dead, holding a hand out as if to offer peace, ‘what do you want?’ you breathe, chest heaving.

he flicks the knife at the bed, gesturing for you to sit down, ‘i’ll explain.. you should sit though.’

you oblige, sitting gingerly on the edge of the mattress, flitting between steve and eddie who was now making his way to you.

‘i-i don’t understand.. what’s going on?’ you blink, trying to hide the tears forming in your eyes.

‘well.. as i’ve been trying to tell you for the past month, the cops found my dna on that knife you used to kill mr. hagan.. had my shit on file from some stupid drug charge last year,’ the corners of his mouth curled into a small grin.

‘wh-what?’

‘oh yeah,’ he nods, now towering above you, ‘haven’t left me alone since.. see, at the school, that shithead janitor saw two people running away from the crime scene and they’ve come to the conclusion that i must be involved. i mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it?’ his eyes are dark, menacing.

you’d never been scared of him before. not even when he’d spilled jason’s guts in front of you. but he genuinely terrifying now. as if he was possessed.

‘eddie.. i didn’t- i’m sorry, we can fix this,’ you nod, a desperate attempt to reassure him, ‘hawkin’s police are fucking stupid.. we, we can come up with some story.. i’ll help you.’

‘yeah, you will,’ he laughs and it sounds demonic, nothing like him, ‘see i’m pretty much fucked.. so i had a thought,’ the knife flings around in his hand, still aimed toward you, ‘wouldn’t it be just so killer, heh.. ya’ see what i did there, if mr. ghostface’s final kill was the queen of hawkins.. the invincible girl, no longer invincible.’

your lower lip begins to quiver, tears welling in your eyes. if you weren’t in this predicament you’d throw up. finally understand the terror you’d inflicted on so many people.

‘you don’t have to do this.. there’s still a way out.. for both of us,’ you swallow, trembling as he is mere inches away from you.

‘oh but i do,’ the cold metal of the knife meets your cheek, stinging as the tears inadvertently roll down your face, ‘it was you who dragged me into this fucking mess and just left me to catch the blame on my own.. you don’t get to live if i’m going down.’

you can’t see him clearly at this point, a blurry vision of dark hair and evil, menacing eyes.

you’re angry. angry at yourself for getting into this situation. angry for ever trusting eddie fucking munson. it’s like a fire rising from your stomach. the same rage you felt as nancy begged for her life.

‘i was gonna make him watch,’ he nods his head towards steve, ‘but i don’t think he’ll be waking up anytime soon,’ a roar erupts from his stomach, a psychotic laugh as the knife runs down your cheek surely drawing blood.

‘please,’ you plead, trying one last time to make him listen, just let you go and it could all be forgotten about.

‘n’aww, it’s kinda pathetic that you, of all people are begging for me to save you,’ he laughs again, moving the blade to your exposed neck.

your face scrunches in anger and the back of your forearm comes up to knock the knife out of his hand. it clatters to the floor and you take the opportunity to stand, barging past eddie and going straight for the door.

‘you bitch,’ he spits, jumping up and just about managing to grab onto your sleeve, jerking your back towards him.

his fingers dig into your arm, spinning you around to face him. a ferocity on his face that you hadn’t seen before. he wasn’t even this angry with jason.

his free hand comes up, landing a solid backhanded shot at your face. knocking the wind out of your stomach. you stumble for a moment, trying to ignore the pulsing pain in your head.

in the chaos, you trip over steve’s extended foot, landing on his carpet with a thud. eddie takes advantage of the higher ground, shoving you over fully. dropping to his knees, placing them either side of your rib cage, his full weight on top of you.

you struggle to regain your breath, balling his t-shirt in your fist, mouth wide as your lungs refuse to fill back up.

‘eddie..’ you manage to gasp out, voice hoarse. a desperate plea.

he scoffs, ‘it’s too late.. i can’t help you now,’ his hands come up to your neck, aggressively pressing down against your trachea, knocking any last air from your throat.

his hands tighten. his breathing heavy as your vision goes black from the lack of oxygen. your nails dig into his wrist in a last ditch attempt to get him off of you.

‘this could’ve all been so easy.. this is your fault,’ he frowns, staring down at you as your legs kick out beneath him, ‘i did this.. for you,’ he’s panting as if he was the one being strangled to fucking death.

the fuzzy feeling in your head started to feel good, like there was no point in fighting this anymore. it was almost calming. warm and welcoming.

your eyes close fully, surrounded by darkness and that uncertain feeling of what was to come next. this was it. this was your karma. it was deserved. you’d taken so much from other people, now it was your turn.

eddie’s body is thrown off of you, a jumble of voices invade the room but you’re too weak to even open your eyes. falling into what you assume was a certain death.

-

well, you weren’t dead. the bright white lights pretty much solidified that fact when you opened your eyes. you knew damn well that there were no pearly gates waiting for you on the other side.

you blink, unsure of what you were even looking at. the beeping sound confirms that you were in hospital, the sterile smell filling your nose as you come around.

two heads appear above you, though you can’t fully make out who the fuck it is.

‘ma’am?’ one of the heads calls out, his voice ringing in your ears.

your mouth tastes like metal. dry and gross. it makes you want to barf.

‘ma’am..’ he says, more certain this time, ‘we’d like to ask you some questions about your involvement with an edward munson?’

[gretavanlace]

Poppins (part 7)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, angst, depression, alcohol abuse, cheating, illusions to physical violence, language, drug use (weed, calm down), masturbation, oral sex (f/rec), shitty editing (as always), etc

“It fucked me up.” Jake confesses, passing the dwindling blunt over to you, staring up at the curling smoke as it dances above your heads.

If someone had told you that your night would end lying beside Jake on your living room floor, head and heart still reeling from a most exquisite orgasm and the taste of his own still satiating your appetite for him, you’d have suggested they consider penning fictional novels.

And yet, here you are, and here he is, and it’s bordering on perfect…save for the remembrance of pain that washes the edges of his words in black.

Refusing to tell the story that wasn’t his, he’d decided to quell your interest with one that he felt worthy of sharing.

“She wouldn’t tell the truth. Not at first. Which was a betrayal in and of itself. I thought, who the fuck are you to deny me what I’m entitled to? You know? I deserved the truth…that belonged to me.” He watches you draw in a lungful of smoke and then brushes an errant lock of hair out of your face.

“You did deserve that.” You agree softly on the exhale, avoiding eye contact so as not to break whatever spell has been cast over the two of you to loosen his tongue. “We all deserve that. Truth. Though we so often don’t get it.”

He sighs to let you know he’s heard you, and that he knows you’re right. “I could smell it on her. The deceit hung in her hair like campfire, lingering in her space - sickeningly sweet perfume. It gave me a headache. Every time she touched me it was like swallowing a rock, and she just kept feeding them to me. Jagged pebble after pebble until I was completely weighed down with whatever it was she had done.”

His prose is somehow prettier when he’s describing something ugly.

You can help it no longer, your hand finds his chest. You want to hold him, to soothe him against your breast like a distressed child. “Jake, I’m so sorry.”

He laughs it off, which only makes you hurt worse for him. “Long time ago, babe. She told me, eventually. Told me there had been someone else. Gave me that ‘it only happened once’ bullshit. But she wouldn’t tell me who. I suppose I hated her the most for that. By keeping that from me, she was choosing him, again. Or, at least that’s how it felt at the time. It’s stupid, looking back.”

“No,” you argue with quiet conviction. “It isn’t stupid, Jake. It isn’t.”

The blunt is cashed, and he drops it into his leftover tea with a hissing sizzle, and then relaxes back down onto the rug.

“I asked her to leave. She cried. I cried. She packed a bag and walked out the door. Came back for the rest of her shit later on, and that was that.”

This last bit has truly astounded you. “You lived together?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, folding his hands together over his chest. “If you can call it that, really. You know how often I’m gone.”

“That’s no excuse.” You feel murderous toward this mirage of a woman whom you’ve never met.

“Didn’t say it was.” He points out before continuing. “So, like I said…it fucked me up. Bailed on a bunch of gigs, wouldn’t get out of bed unless it was to wander my drunk ass down the street for a fresh bottle. Stopped showering, couldn’t sleep, all that shit. I forgot about her fish and accidentally let him die. Still feel bad about that one.”

You listen silently. Maybe he needs this…each spoken word feels like it's brand new on his tongue, as if he’s never opened up with such candor about these things hidden. And if he needs a mindful ear and an open heart, you will gladly give that to him. Tonight, and always.

“Josh showed up, because of course he did.” He huffs a breath of a laugh and shakes his head, searching out patterns in your popcorn ceiling. “Asshole beat on the door for an hour before I sobered up enough to hear him. Then beat on it for another hour until I finally hated the noise enough to answer.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him run through imaginary chords along his chest, a habit that presents itself when he’s nervous or angry. Right now, you imagine he’s a bit of both.

“He made me get up and shower. Wouldn’t shut the fuck up until I had. Cleaned up the trash that had piled itself up in disgusting mountains around my bed. I’ll never forget that. Walking into my room and seeing those trash bags. Five of them just completely crammed to hell and back full. That’s what it took. Those bags. Who was this? This guy who sleeps with trash and whiskey bottles and doesn’t shower, right? One of the most astonishing realizations of my life and I made it with a filthy towel that had been lying on my bathroom floor for god knows how long wrapped around my waist.”

Your heart aches painfully for him. You can’t even begin to equate that scenario with the beautiful, cocky, brilliant, man before you. Still, you’ve never felt closer to him, it’s like he’s unlocked a door and invited you inside. Except this time, he isn’t giving you the shiny tour. Now you’ve been ushered in and he’s letting you peek into the junk drawer.

“It only got worse from there. He combed the knots out of my hair…took him forever, and it made me feel loved and like shit all at once. Fucking prick ordered me to strip my bed while he threw the windows open.” He makes prick sound like a term of endearment. “Then he just came out with it. Just fuckin’ said it while he tromped around cleaning like he owned the place.”

You wait while, presumably, he gathers his thoughts, or maybe his wits, or perhaps both…but you don’t push. As far as you’re concerned, you’d lie on this floor with him and wait forever, just so he never feels as lonely as he must’ve felt then.

“He said,” he waves a hand above your heads as though setting the scene. But really, you know this to be a strange quirk of his, this slightly theatrical flare that colors his words when he’s recounting his twin. “Jake, this might be terrible fucking timing, but we’re gonna do this now. You’re going to hate me, and that scares the shit outta me, but you deserve to know, and you deserve to hear it from me.”

“I knew right then, the second he said that, but I waited because….” His hand drops and reaches for your own, warm and tight in grip, like those confident handshakes that seem so important to some “I guess I waited because I didn’t want to know. Two extra seconds of blissful ignorance was too tempting to let go of. Doubt I even got two, seemed more like a fraction of a second before he was out with it. ‘It was me’, that’s all he said because he knew that’s all he had to say. He understood that on some level, I’d probably known all along.”

As difficult as it had been to equate Jake with the melted down version of himself he had described, imagining Josh - all love, sunny smiles, and sweet sentiment - caring so little about his brother’s heart, is impossible. It had to have been some imposter standing in Joshua’s shoes; a monster tucked away inside his brain steering him headlong into cruel flippancy.

It makes you angry. What a foreign feeling when it comes to these two. “It was horrible, what he did to you.” There are worse things bitten back on your tongue.

He’s playing with your fingers now, turning them this way and that, inspecting them as if they’re much more interesting than you’ve ever thought them to be. “Like I told you before, he was drunk and she was somethin’ else. She had the sweetest voice…always sounded like she’d swallowed a bit of helium. It used to drive me crazy, that cotton candy voice of hers.”

A pang of jealousy, unwelcome and unwanted, creeps to life inside you, but you hide it well - you think.

“He earned points,” he continues on. “By telling me…and she was right not to tell me. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d heard it from anyone but him. And hearing her say it? That she’d fucked my brother - with that voice of hers, all honey and sugar dripping all over his name, I think it might have killed me.”

It dawns on you, suddenly and sickeningly, “Is that what I am? What this is? You loved her, and you believe he loves me, so you’ve found an angle? Are you using me to break his heart the way he broke yours?”

The very thought makes your stomach tighten and twist around itself.

Somehow, he knows - how does he always seem to know? - and he places his wide, warm palm across your navel gently and then rolls atop you, nudging the tip of your nose with the tip of his own, an innocent Eskimo kiss that sets your pulse wild.

“You aren’t a pawn in some bullshit game between brothers, poppins. Far from it. But I’ll play with you anyway if you’d like.”

Fuck, the cashmere of his voice, the way it billows into the night like a gauzy curtain flutters in a summer breeze. Vocal chords oscillating as his guitar strings do, humming straight into your heart.

You shove aside all the need he has once again flickered to life inside you and ask, “What happened then?” Your question is meek, as if you’re afraid of the answer.

“After he told me, you mean?” He murmurs against your neck…mouth hot and wet as it searches for places that will make you sigh.

“I kicked his ass wearing only a towel, which didn’t stay on long, so you can imagine how that must’ve looked.”

An unexpected laugh responds to his unexpected joke and you watch him soften…he loves your voice, too. Maybe not as much as he had loved hers, but there is an undeniable affection there that will do just fine for you.

“I made an even worse mistake, as I am so often wont to do. In some ridiculous quest for revenge, I made it even worse.”

He sounds loathsome of himself, so you stroke through his hair, comforting him, loving him this way. Still, you can sense the book closing, he has talked enough for tonight. The wound reopened, split apart and bleeding.

You cauterize it with a joke, just to hear that gentle chuckle of his. “So, no naked grudge match carried out in your depression room? Oh, the disappointment is crushing, Jakey.”

You’re gifted with the laugh you’d so hoped for. “No, babe, that definitely happened. But if you ever feel the need to retell that story, have mercy on me and leave that part out.”

A quiet descends around you like a comforting caul…dragging you back down into the blissful trenches where there is only him. Only Jake.

No peculiar sibling rivalry. No strange twin bond that you’ll never begin to understand. No confusion. No complications…

But never no Josh. Even when there is only Jake, there is still Josh. He lingers in your peripheral vision, a blurry specter watching, reminding. The same way Jacob floats about in your heart when Josh’s hands and eyes are on you.

Jake speaks into the hush first. “You heard me when I said you aren’t a pawn in some fucked up game, right?” His hand is trailing down, down, down, now…tucking itself between your legs, playing with you idly over your panties that are still damp from the last time he decided to grace you with his touch. “I mean, you really heard me, right?”

“Yeah,” it rides out on a feathery moan as your legs spread further apart for him.

“Yeah?” He’s satisfied with your answer, and taunting you a bit now. Sweetly mocking how lost you seem to already be.

“Jake…” it’s a whimper and you don’t care.

“I suppose this is alright, don’t you think, poppins? If I touch you here? Done it before, haven’t I? And he has too, hasn’t he, babe?” He doesn’t pause for your answer. “Playing field’ll stay nice and even, even if I make you cum in these pretty wet panties, won’t it?”

Your hand has wrapped itself around his wrist, urging him to keep going. “If it isn’t a game between the two of you, why is there a field?”

“That’s such an excellent point, baby doll.” He breathes, soft and slow, against the shell of your ear. “Fuck keeping things even, yeah? How about something new? Would you like that, hmm? If I did something new to you?”

“Don’t tease me,” you whine, devoid of absolutely any shame. “Just do it, Jake, please.”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for, nor do you care.

“Do what, babe?” His fingers are inching under the lace you wish would disappear. “What if I make my way down?” Those same fingers are now tapping against your lips. You lap over them and he groans at the curl of your tongue before he’s walking down your body with them like two tiny legs. “What if I just kiss my way down until my face is between these pretty thighs and my mouth is against your sweet little cunt.”

“Oh god, Jake, please…” you’re shoving at his shoulders now as he grins through a bite to your throat. “Please!”

He’s at your breasts all at once, tugging your shirt as he had before until you pull it off. That mouth you’re aching so badly for, closes around your nipple, sucking as his teeth sink in deeply enough to make you squirm away.

“Does that hurt?” He pants through licks and suckles that threaten to tear you into the tiniest of pieces.

“No.”

“Then lie fucking still.” The way it trips off his delectable tongue, heated and unwavering, causes you to clench around nothing.

You do as you’re told and pray silently for him to make his way lower and lower.

Like the deity he seems to be, he hears your prayers and answers them by dipping down to lavish an open mouthed kiss upon you, savoring you through the soaked material that once served as underwear, but has now been demoted to an annoyance to be dealt with.

The moment his lips meet silk, he pulls back as if you’ve burnt him, fingertips to his gorgeous mouth like he can’t believe this is real. Coincidentally, neither can you.

“Let me see, poppins,” his chest heaves with every word, fighting to be heard. “Show me where you want my mouth, pretty girl.”

Yanking your panties to the side you once again begin to beg. You can’t seem to help it, and he seems to like that very much.

“There?” He offers that conspiring, lopsided smirk. “And what should I do with my mouth right there, babe? Would you like a little kiss?”

With a growl that sounds like you’re little more than a feral cat mouthing off, your hands fist in his hair and yank him in with force that catches him off guard enough that he loses balance and sort of falls into place, groaning vibrations against your cunt until they spark and sizzle down to your toes.

He strokes the flat of his tongue over your clit, once, twice, three times, then rolls onto his back, taking you with him.

With you now perched and writhing above him, he spanks your thigh, and, with his eyes blazing up at you, sends you reeling with a gravelly “Well, c’mon then, Mary Poppins…feed it to me.”

You’ve been known to do a stupid thing a time or two, but never anything as stupid as wasting time when Jake is asking for something as depraved as what he happens to be asking for now. To that end, you lower yourself down, head falling back to cry out to a god you think you might not even believe in, when he yanks you down completely.

There’s no way he can breathe, but the way he is sucking you in, there’s no way he cares. Praise and pleas for more muffle against you, as does his drawn out moan when he tugs his cock free and wraps a fist around it.

Tongue fucking inside you now, perfect nose brushing rhythmically over your swollen clit, your hips begin to chase it now all on their own.

He nods in urgent approval and sends his fist flying over his cock faster as your toes sweep over the muscles flexing and pumping wildly in his arm.

Growls and groans of lust and exertion press inside you as he drags you closer and closer to that bright and stunning end. Hands in his hair, you let him take you there. Though you might be steering the ship, he is the sea upon which you sail.

“Cum with me, fuck Jake, please please please, I want it, want it so bad…” have you even made a sound at all? You can’t be sure until you feel him nod again beneath you, his free arm wrapping around your waist to pull you down even closer, like he wants to get lost and disappear inside you.

He has built a shimmering, iridescent world, all for you, but you don’t step into it alone. He goes along, reaching up to grab your hand with a barely discernible gasp of your name, just to save you from feeling lonely in your heaven.

Somehow, when the blurry haze begins to clear your head, you’re on your back again, quietly sobbing for air as your body trembles with divine aftershocks.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he wonders almost silently…face pink and shining with you and breathtaking. “God, you make my chest ache. It hurts to look at you, sometimes.”

Shying away from his worshipful prose, you feel around for your shirt, eyes watching his mouth. You adored it before, and now you’d simply lay down and die for it without thought.

You clean him up. Carefully dragging cotton over his hand, stomach and belt where he has spilled and made an indulgent mess…you contemplate using your mouth, but think maybe the moment has passed.

A comfortable, nearly domestic, quiet takes over until finally, you ask him to stay.

He declines with sweet kisses upon your cheek, and lets you in on another secret - he’s leaving to pay a visit to his favorite tree in the park. He plans to sit a while, as it’s where he does some of his best thinking.

You don’t ask what he plans to think about beneath an old sugar maple at close to four in the morning. Maybe you’d like to know, you figure, but maybe you shouldn’t.

~

The morning finds you showered and a least somewhat put together, wandering through the very same park. Meandering towards the rusty back and forth creak of a swing set.

Josh waits just where he said he’d be when he’d phoned to ask you to join them.

Looking casual and clean in crisp joggers and a band T that you know, without a doubt, smells of fabric softener - he is relaxed back against a bench, contently watching Lil’s ponytail fly as she chases around with her tiny companion - a friend from the neighborhood. He’s the sweetest thing who is almost always happy to let Lily boss him a bit. They often remind you of what the twins must’ve been like as children.

You slide into position beside Josh and he ponders as if you’ve been conversing for hours. “Remember what that was like? Just running to run? Look how happy she is.”

His question is rhetorical, his smile sly, when he turns his attention to your face. “Look how happy you are, sweetheart. You’re glowing. Is it safe to assume that my lesser half paid you a visit last night?”

You feel your lips part stupidly in shock.

“He called me this morning, just after I called you.” He shrugs casually. “Told me he was around and that the two of you talked. I know what ‘talking’ means when it comes to Jacob.”

You shake it off, grounding yourself by watching his lovely daughter rather than the twinkling accusations in his eyes. “We did talk.”

“Amongst other things, I’m sure.” He blows right by his own comment and leans in a little closer. “Do you think less of me now? Now that you know exactly what I did to him? Because you should.”

“No.” You answer without hesitation, and truthfully. “And he said he did something even worse, so it seems to me like you two are even.”

“Even?” There’s a disgruntled edge to his tone, but instinctively, you understand that his disgust is centered squarely upon himself. “We’ll never be even. Not after what he gave me to make things right.”

You squint into his eyes, trying to piece together the puzzle. “And how did he make whatever it was he did, right? What did he give you?”

He allows you to stare a while and then gives you your answer by shifting his gaze to the tiny beauty laughing in the sandbox.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @gretasmokerising @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @thelvnternskeeper @mywickeddivinity @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn @demolitiondann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @josh-iamyour-mama

[nalyra-dreaming]

I know Louis often withheld and withdrew but I can't help but wonder if that was exacerbated by Lestat's response during the "ain't I enough scene"? Louis appeared to have a moment of vulnerability and was opening up communication between them when he posed that question. That was the perfect opportunity for Lestat to tell him that he felt rejected. I understand the nervous laughter because of my book knowledge, but why would Lestat ask for variety in that moment instead of using the opportunity to articulate his feelings and ask Louis to do the same? Do you think maybe that response caused Louis to withhold and withdraw even further and the resentment built up between both of them? Lestat had another opportunity for open communication when Louis took him back after the fight because Louis was sleeping with him, feeding human, and trying to go hunt with him which Lestat declined to go to Antoinette. I understand that the tension with Claudia was simmering and ready to boil over, but I feel like if Lestat would have handled Antoinette differently and Louis would have put his foot down with Claudia both of them could have started fresh and had the potential to make a pretty happy pair.

I get what you're trying to say but you're taking the tale too literally.

Like... this has been proven a tale, an edited tale, to make Lestat look as bad as possible. A tale, of an ex, trying to present their former partner as a monster (Jacob's words). A tale, edited by the new partner (who also kept the ex under mind control!), to make the ex remember mostly the bad stuff.

Lestat and Louis could never have made it up at this point. Not within the tale. The tale was constructed to get to the point of no choice, the "we had to kill Lestat" part, that Louis repeated so it would land, only Daniel was asleep then.

Now, mind you, repeating here, again: not all of the tale was false narration. No, 80-90% are the truth. But 10-20% are not. It's up to you to decide what was the truth I guess, at least for now. But I do think the reveal of 2x08 has to be kept in mind here.

To ask with Daniel's words: "Where does the bullshit start?"

Does it start with Lestat being absolutely callous to Louis? Wanting to cheat? For cheating's sake? For... variety? The Lestat who fearfully asked if Louis hurt himself, and who locked himself up for decades thinking Louis was dead? For example?

It has been said that we have THREE instances of the "real Lestat" in the show: the letter, the call, and the reunion. THOSE are our character guidelines wrt to Louis and Lestat.

Oh, I don't doubt they fought. I actually think by now the drop happened, maybe the trial scene happened like that, with Lestat admitting to it as well.

But to analyze what we were told... this has to be considered.

I got a lot of hate for daring to doubt the tale. It has now been confirmed, that we did see an edited, manipulated tale. That Louis has been brainwashed, his mind meddled with, for decades.

So what does this leave us with?

I think there was a lot of insecurities on both sides. Both Louis and Lestat did not communicate as they should have. Both probably did not react as they should have. Both dug their heels in, and made it worse. And both failed Claudia, again and again.

And both will work on getting it back to "working level" in the future seasons now.

[ultimatemissadhd]

You guys want complex characters but you couldn't even understand Kyoko Kirigiri - Kyoko defending post.

So today I'm gonna talk about Kyoko framing Makoto because you guys only foucs on Makoto in here which drives me insane.

Yes, it was unfair that Makoto got framed. But don't forget that Kyoko was getting framed too, it's not like Kyoko framed Makoto for a murder she committed. The dead body belonged to Mukuro who died chapters ago.

Of course, Kyoko could have pulled out an inspirational speech and sacrifice herself for Naegi but there was no place for that bullshit.

Haven't you seen the bad ending? If Kyoko dies, they never get out of the killing game, the tradegy goes on forever and they don't even know.

And Kyoko knows that. Kyoko knows she's the only person who can end the killing game with all the information and evidence she got. As much as, some of these were in her room, that still wouldn't be enough for others. Plus they would probably have no reason to go there after she dies, I also wouldn't be surprised if Junko got rid of the evidence in Kyoko's room after she died.

The whole reason why the trail was in the first place was because Junko wanted to stop Kyoko from destroying her killing game. Kyoko knows that.

Now, Kyoko finds herself in a situation where she's about to get executed and the "if you vote the wrong person then you all die" rule is not going to help her anymore since the whole thing is rigged and she's being framed by the mastermind. She knows that if she dies the killing game will never and go on forever AND SHE'S RIGHT. She's nervous, she's scared, she's in a point of no escape.

She has to choices:

1. Die and lnever defeat the mastermind and have everyone locked in there forever, mastermind wins, all the deaths meant nothing.

2. Frame someone else, live and defeat the mastermind and then avenge the deaths of everyone including the person who got framed.

There's no place for sacrifice bullshit here.

Kyoko choses to save herself, not because she's selfish or arrogant but because she believes in her abilities and the knowledge she has.

Makoto ends up being the person who gets executed instead and that's s pretty much a random thing because it really could have been anyone. Yes, she feels guilty and yes, she knows it's unfair. But it was the only thing to do so she can end the killing game.

Makoto survives and she goes to look for him and saves him and she does it pretty quickly. She goes there, brings him food and water, then helps him get back to the building. If she didn't care about him, she wouldn't think about what happened to him.

The fact that she was the only one to do so, maybe because she detailed map of the school that she got from some secret room, however the fact that she threw herself down the trash to save Makoto shows that she cares. But I think it's safe to say that if she didn't go down there, there's a huge chance that no one would.

In conclusion, chapter 5 is not all about Makoto. I hate when people make it all about him and how it was unfair for him and JUST for him. Because if you think about it, it wasn't fair for anyone and Kyoko had no choice, just like everyone else. They couldn't just not vote, they had to vote for someone.

Kyoko is an interesting character because like I mentioned before, what you'd except from a Danganronpa female support character would be inspirational sacrifice to let the protagonist solve everything by themselves and "I believe in you" and blah blah.

That scenario just doesn't work here because Makoto alone doesn't have enough information and knowledge to defeat the mastermind by himself.

Another thing is that Kyoko apologies and explains everything as soon as she sees Makoto.

Makoto forgives her not because he is a loser people pleaser although he is but not here but because he knows Kyoko and trusts her and he knows that she has those information that could help save the killing game, he knows that without her they wouldn't defeat the mastermind.

Kyoko Kirigiri is a character with her own morals, brain, way of thinking and mind. She is a deep powerful character who was one of the main reasons Junko was defeated. Yet, she gets very little credit. This would bring us to talking about the anime but that's a topic for another day and another rant.

[gemmahale]

So I've temporarily paused my queue. It's just me, shouting into the void again. (The queue will maybe come back - there's some 800 some odd posts in there.) Just as an FYI.

I've been stuck in my head since...my work trip last weekend? Which, tbf, 12 hours of windshield time and a day of interacting with people is a fair bit.

(I'm cutting this because y'all don't need my yapping, but I need it off my chest. Go get some water or a beverage of choice instead.)

TW: mental health discussion. I am safe, I am not going to do anything brash.

But Monday I came back to an email from my boss - apparently two clients had stopped in to speak with him because I hadn't answered their calls (all are within the last two-ish weeks, maybe more?).

A huge part of my job is that timely client call-back. And one place that I consistently struggle in. We've had this discussion going on for 6+ mo now on how critical this call-back part is. The whole thing of what we do is timely, scientifically backed information.

I'm shit at calling back. I hate doing it. I hate troubleshooting people's plant problems. It just seems so...inconsequential. People are stressing about a dead spot in their yard (that's probably over watered and over fertilized and a sterile environment) and it's just...get some perspective, y'know?

I don't know. I love this job. I love the impact I could have. Get me talking about how people deserve healthy ecosystems and food access and such and I'm going a mile a minute.

But I'm paralyzed when it comes to solving these stupid "inconsequential" problems.

I have a newsletter I've been talking about sending out since FEBURARY. It's now AUGUST. It's unsent. I just hit a wall every time I sit down to set it up.

Same thing with the volunteer program I manage. The workshops I'm working on. All of it. Wall against wall against wall and I'm scrolling tumblr for the 43rd time that day.

And I don't know what to do. I'm scared. That's what it is. I'm Scared I'll give bad information and something will get killed and it'll be my fault.

(yes that's capital S scared.)

I don't know what I'm going to say tomorrow in our meeting. I know I'm on thin ice. I'm going into my 3rd year of this. I shouldn't be struggling like this. My RSD is so fuckin' bad that it's locking me up and shutting me down.

Part of me wants to be fired. Just "this isn't a good fit" and out the door. Proof that I'm not cut out for this job. Because all I have succeeded in doing is failing my colleagues, my peers and the clientele that I interact with.

I'm self-sabotaging myself and I don't know how to not to.

I love the opportunities this job has. But I'm terrified of failure to the point of breakdown. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that, right?

It's imposter syndrome, self-sabotage, other terms I've forgotten. having a name for it doesn't help any - just reinforces that I'm doing it to myself. And that's what hurts the most.

I haven't told anyone I'm struggling. It's hard to reach out. Kallen's been dealing with nightmares and job bullshit and high pain days (and his listening is problem solving/therapist-ing, which isn't what I want or need). My friends are all bogged down with their lives - unemployment, moving, divorces, childcare, and I'm not going to burden them with this gunk.

The irony to this is that I just told a friend to lean on me - because that's what friends do when they're in tight spots. Lean on each other, support each other.

But really it just means: Justify that I'm worth being here/being friends with me by making me useful to you.

God I wish I didn't have all this brain goop. I wish I could just scoop it out and poke at it under a microscope and dissect what happened to make me like this.

Gemma find a therapist. <- Whole different conversation. There's a dearth of mental health providers out here. I quit looking in 2021 when I called 5 places and they all said they were not taking on more clients and the one I tried we didn't vibe with each other. Fuck being a (mostly closeted) queer woman in small-town America.