#he was so bad for that catholic guilt dick

[jullythevamp]

"louistat is the best lestat ship!" "no, it's lesmand" "no, it's davidstat" lestat and nicholas were each other's first best friend and first love. think about the countless hours they spent talking nonsense to each other, because they were the only ones who understood. even when they fought, it was all put behind with a kiss. nicki's violin calming lestat from a panic attack. they ran away to paris together with nothing but the will to prove their parents wrong. they lived on the streets, surviving with tips, but they didn't care. they started living in a bad house in a bad neighborhood. but they didn't care because they drank wine and slept together every night. lestat wanted distance from nicki when he became a vampire, so he wouldn't hurt him. as soon as lestat got the money from magnus castle, he gave nicki a shit ton of money, a new house, violin classes, and a new expensive violin. but nicki didn't care because all he could think of was if lestat was well or not. lestat didn't care about armand and the coven, but went there as soon as he knew nicki was being held captive. armand was jealous of the love lestat gave to nicki. lestat transformed nicki into a vampire because he was too afraid to lose him. even when they weren't in speaking terms, lestat gave nicki the theater of vampires. lestat went under the dirt when he knew nicki killed himself. he went under the dirt with the violin he gave nicki. the first reason lestat fell for louis and antoine (maybe even quinn) was because they remembered nicki, both in appearance and personality. hell, he made antoine into a nicki carbon copy. lestat never forgot nicholas. there will always be, playing in the back of his mind, the sound of nicholas violin.

[winxanity-ii]

FATHER, FORGIVE ME

ship: father charlie x fem!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 ( oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery ) word count: 4.1k a/n: ahhh….I just want to say I'm so thrilled with all the love and support for the mini Devotion series! It means the world to me to see you guys enjoying it as much as I do. And a huge thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday! I got drunk asf, and here's the rough draft I made while tipsy, lolol. Hope you all enjoy~ 😈✨..

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You wouldn't say you were a bad person.

Selfish? Maybe. Impulsive? Absolutely. But "bad" seemed a bit of a stretch.

It's just that, when you saw something you wanted, you didn't hesitate to take it—and, honestly, you had no regrets. Not until now, at least.

Sitting here, surrounded by the smell of old hymn books and dusty incense, listening to some wrinkly old man in a white robe drone on about salvation.

The whole thing was your mother's doing. She had this recurring phase, like clockwork, where she'd get bitten by the "Bible bug."

For a few weeks every year, she was the most devoted Catholic you'd ever seen. She'd call, text, guilt-trip—anything to get her kids back on the straight and narrow, even if just for a Sunday morning.

For the last seven years, you'd managed to dodge it. Moved out at eighteen and never looked back, leaving the duty of church attendance to your three other siblings.

Usually, someone would take one for the team and tag along with Mom until her enthusiasm fizzled out again. But this time, it seemed your luck had run dry—your sister had finally roped you in, and here you were, seven-year streak shattered.

You sighed deeply, eyes half-lidded as they flicked across the stained glass windows—all those saints staring down at you in judgment.

You couldn't help but think of all the things you could be doing right now. Sleeping, for one. Your bed sounded like heaven compared to the hard pew beneath you.

Or brunch with your friends—mimosas and laughter, not these monotone chants and the faint smell of mothballs.

Hell, you could've called Kevin over and gotten dicked down instead of dealing with this—

Your thoughts screeched to a halt, slamming against an unexpected sight.

The old priest, the one whose croaky voice was practically white noise at this point, stepped away from the pulpit. In his place was someone else—someone younger, someone whose presence commanded attention.

A man, tall, dark hair neatly combed back, with a crisp black cassock that hugged his broad shoulders just right. He moved with a sense of ease, like he belonged up there.

And damn, was he handsome. Handsome enough to pull your focus completely, which was a feat in itself given the circumstances.

Your eyes tracked him as he approached the podium, his voice replacing the rasping chant of the old priest. It was smooth, warm, resonant. Nothing like the man you remembered from years ago.

He spoke about community, faith, redemption—but all you could think was how someone like him ended up in a place like this.

You found yourself leaning forward, just slightly, as if drawn in by some invisible force. Your irritation melted away, replaced by a strange curiosity.

Maybe… maybe this wouldn't be the worst way to spend a Sunday after all.

The priest stood quietly at the altar, his figure framed by the soft light filtering through the stained glass windows. A faint scar traced its way down the right side of his forehead, a mark that spoke of some unknown hardship or past misadventure.

He was youthful but with the stillness of someone who’d seen enough to understand patience and humility.

With each breath, the man seemed grounded in his presence, shoulders relaxed but broad, the fabric of his robe resting comfortably against his chest.

His appearance was almost angelic, yet the subtle scar and the weight in his eyes hinted at something more complex beneath the surface—a man of God, perhaps, but one who had walked through fire to find his faith.

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow in appreciation as you stared at the handsome man up there. You leaned over a bit to your mother, eyes never straying from his figure. "Ma, who's that? Is he new?" you whispered to your mother.

She looked up from her phone, Candy Crush flashing on her screen. You silenced the snort that wanted to come out. Looked like she might retire from church early this year, you thought to yourself, seeing her early signs of disengaging.

She glanced up at the front, giving a quick look before going back to her game. "That's Father Charlie Mayhew. He was brought in about two or three years ago, I think," she murmured absently, barely paying attention.

Father Charlie.

You watched as he spoke, his voice strong yet gentle, his eyes sweeping over the congregation with a genuine warmth. He wasn't like the old priest—this one seemed to genuinely care, as if each word held weight.

You wondered if that scar came from something dramatic, some story worth knowing. Your gaze lingered, taking in the slope of his shoulders, the way his lips moved with each word. Something about him felt... magnetic.

You found yourself sitting up straighter when the two of you made eye contact—he blinked, his words stumbling just slightly, a brief hitch in his otherwise smooth delivery. "I, uh... I apologize," he stuttered, looking off to the side, the tips of his ears turning pink.

You caught the way his eyes shifted nervously, almost as if he was trying to regain his footing. It was subtle, but you could see it—the way he tried to pull himself back together, to get through the rest of the sermon without any more disruptions.

He cleared his throat to continue, "As I was saying... uh, the importance of faith in our lives cannot be overstated. We must always strive to, um, to do what is right, even when it's difficult..." His voice trailed off slightly, but he managed to steady himself, his eyes avoiding yours as he focused on the rest of the congregation.

It made something stir in you, a mix of curiosity and amusement.

You bit down gently on your lower glossed lip, eyes trailing over his form, taking in every subtle detail. The way his hands gripped the edge of the podium, the faint flush creeping up his neck—it was all so telling.

He seemed innocent, reactive.

You smiled to yourself, letting your gaze linger as he continued, noting the way he seemed to avoid looking in your direction now, as if afraid that another glance might trip him up again.

Maybe you should pay a visit to Father Charlie—see if you could break that serene composure of his.

You could already imagine it—the way he might tense up under your touch, the way his voice might crack if you whispered something just a bit too forward.

The thought alone made your heart race, anticipation bubbling up inside you, like something in you just knew—he'd be fun to unravel.

You leaned back in your seat, a slow, satisfied smile playing on your lips. Oh, this was going to be fun.

The sermon ended with a quiet murmur of 'Amen' from the congregation, followed by the gentle shuffle of people rising from the pews.

You glanced around, watching as people slowly made their way to the exits, some stopping to chat while others lingered near the back of the church.

The old priest was nowhere to be seen, but Father Charlie remained, standing at the front as he spoke softly to a small group of parishioners.

Your mother, of course, made a beeline for him. You heard her voice carrying over the hushed conversations, gushing about how moving today’s sermon was.

You rolled your eyes, unable to help yourself, and slowly rose to your feet, making your way over with an almost lazy stride.

As you approached, you could see your mother perk up, her eyes lighting up as she turned to you. "Oh, there she is! Father Charlie, this is my youngest, ____." She gestured towards you, her hand lightly resting on your arm to pull you closer. "You've met my other children over the years."

You could see the change in Father Charlie almost instantly. His posture shifted, his back straightening just a little more, his eyes rounding as they landed on you. He seemed almost like an eager puppy, his gaze bright and attentive.

He quickly pulled his eyes away, turning back to your mother with a polite smile as he nodded. "Yes, I remember," he said, his voice a touch softer. Then he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours as he gave you a gentle smile. "It's nice to finally meet you. I don't think I've seen you here before... ?"

Your mother gave a sort of laughing scoff, waving him off as she caught his attention again. She chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, Father, the day she willingly comes to church without an incentive is the day the devil is welcomed back into Heaven's gates."

You kept your eyes on Father Charlie, a small smile tugging at your lips as you tilted your head slightly. "Maybe I just hadn't found a good enough reason to come before," you said, your gaze locked on his, your voice light but carrying a hint of something more.

His eyes widened just a little, and you watched as a faint blush spread across his cheeks, his lips parting slightly as he blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Before he could say anything, your mother’s name was called from behind. It was one of her church friends, and in an instant, she was off, waving a quick goodbye and leaving you standing there in front of Father Charlie.

You didn't waste a second, taking a daring step forward, your eyes fixed on him. "So..." you said, letting your gaze roam over him before meeting his eyes again. "You seem awfully young to be running a church like this. I have to say, I'm impressed."

He looked bashful, glancing down for a moment before looking back up at you. "Oh, well, thank you. I just... I do my best," he said, his voice soft, the pink on his cheeks deepening.

You smiled, tilting your head just slightly. "Do you do one-on-one sessions, like other churches do?" you asked, your voice carrying a hint of mischief.

He blinked, clearly confused for a moment, before his eyes widened in realization. "Oh, you mean confessionals?" He nodded quickly, his expression shifting back to something more serious. "Yes, I do. In fact, I was planning on doing confessionals later today, after the services. Not many people take me up on it, but I think it's important to always offer the option."

"Oh, really?" you said, letting your voice drop just a bit, your head tilting to the side as you watched him. You let a small smile curve your lips, your gaze never leaving his. "Well, you wouldn't mind if I came to see you and... confessed, would you, Father?"

He stuttered, his blush deepening as he quickly nodded. "N-No, of course not. You're more than welcome to come by, anytime," he said, his voice a bit shaky.

You smirked, giving him a nod. "Perfect," you said, your voice smooth, before turning on your heel and walking away, back towards where your mother was waiting.

You could feel his gaze on you the entire time, the weight of his eyes almost burning into your back. And you loved it.

This really was going to be fun.

The church grew quieter as the service officially ended, people slowly trickling out while you lingered, waiting for your moment.

Eventually, you made your way to the confessional booth, the small wooden space feeling cramped as you settled in. The air was close, the scent of polished wood and incense hanging heavy.

You could hear Father Charlie shuffling on the other side, the sound of the door closing behind him, the rustle of fabric as he got seated.

You took a breath, letting the silence stretch for a moment before you began. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..." you said, your voice soft, but there was an edge to it that you couldn't quite hide.

There was a pause before you heard him clear his throat, his voice coming through the small screen that separated you. "The Lord is always ready to forgive. Please, tell me your sins, my child."

You sighed, leaning back slightly, your fingers brushing against the hem of your dress. "I fear I desire a man that is just out of my reach," you said, your voice carrying a hint of frustration. "It's wrong for me to want him... but I can't seem to help myself."

There was a moment of silence, and you could almost picture the look on his face—concerned, earnest, wanting to help. His voice was gentle as he responded. "Desire can be difficult to control, but it is not inherently sinful. It is what we choose to do with that desire that matters. You must pray for guidance, ask for strength... and remember that God understands our struggles."

You hummed softly, your eyes half-lidded as you listened to him, but your mind was drifting. His voice was soothing, and you found yourself imagining what it would be like if things were different.

If there wasn't a screen between you.

If you could reach out, touch him, feel that innocence melt away under your fingers.

Your hand trailed down your side, your fingers brushing over your thigh as you let out a soft sigh.

His voice cut through your thoughts, sounding a bit uncertain. "Sister ____... are you alright? Do you hear me?"

You smiled to yourself, your mind made up. You leaned closer to the screen, your voice dropping to a near whisper. "Father," you began, your tone coy, "I must confess... I find it difficult to focus when you're speaking. You have such a... soothing voice."

His breath caught audibly, and you could almost hear the way he was struggling to gather himself. "W-What do you mean, sister?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, laced with confusion.

"It makes me think... sinful thoughts."

You could hear the slight hitch in his breath, the rustle of fabric as he shifted. "S-sister," he stammered, clearly taken aback. "This... this is not appropriate."

You ignored his protest, your voice growing softer, more intimate. "You know, Father, I've always heard that confession is good for the soul. And right now... I think there's only one thing that could truly absolve me of these desires." You let the words hang in the air, knowing exactly what you were implying.

"Sister, this... this isn't..." His voice was shaky now, the uncertainty clear. "I don't think—"

"Come get me, Father," you whispered, your tone daring, challenging him. "You wouldn't leave me like this, would you?"

There was silence for a long moment, and then you heard it—the slow shuffling as he moved. The sound of his door opening, the soft creak of the confessional booth as he stepped out.

You pushed your own door open, stepping out into the dimly lit church. Father Charlie was standing there, his head downcast, his face flushed a deep red. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words came out, his eyes flickering up to meet yours before darting away again.

You took a step towards him, your movements slow, deliberate—like a predator closing in on its prey. His breath hitched as you approached, his shoulders tensing. He cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sister, I... this isn't right. We shouldn't—"

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the front of his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. You let your hand slide down, your voice a low purr. "Father," you purred, your eyes locking onto his, "I want you to take me somewhere... push me to a higher calling, yeah?"

His eyes widened, the pupils dilating as he stared at you, his lips parting in shock. For a moment, he seemed frozen, and then, almost as if the word was pulled from him, he whispered, "Okay..."

His hand was trembling slightly as he reached for yours, and you let him lead you out of the main church area, his eyes flicking nervously around to make sure no one was watching. He led you down a dim hallway, stopping at a small door that opened into a cramped janitor's closet.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you were on him.

You pushed him back against the wall, your lips crashing against his. He gasped, and you took advantage, licking into his mouth, tasting the hint of mint on his tongue as a low groan rumbled from your throat. His hands hesitated for a moment before resting on your waist, his touch light, unsure.

You deepened the kiss, feeling the way he shivered beneath your touch, your hands pushing up under his cassock, fingers skimming over the hard lines of his abdomen. His muscles tensed under your fingertips, a shudder running through him as he let out a shaky breath.

You pulled back, just enough to see his face in the low light, and he chased your lips, leaning forward as if he couldn't stand the sudden loss of contact.

You let out a dark chuckle, your hands coming up to cup his flushed cheeks, squeezing gently. His face was a deep shade of red, his eyes half-lidded, his breath coming in short, uneven pants. He looked almost dazed, completely overwhelmed, and it only made your smile widen.

Your thumb grazed over his plump bottom lip, pressing gently before dipping just inside his mouth. His eyes fluttered, his tongue flicking out hesitantly to brush against your thumb before retreating. You let out a soft sigh, a hint of a teasing smile tugging at your lips. "Oh?" you murmured, raising an eyebrow, your gaze fixed on him.

Charlie swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto yours, his breathing ragged. You stepped closer, rising onto your tiptoes, your lips just barely grazing his as you spoke. "You did so well during the sermon, Father," you whispered, your voice low and dripping with suggestion. "It makes me wonder... what could such a blessed mouth do somewhere else?"

His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly, but he didn’t pull away. You gripped his shoulder, your fingers digging in just enough to make him shiver, and tugged him downwards. "On your knees," you said, your tone commanding, leaving no room for hesitation.

Slowly, almost as if in a trance, Charlie sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something almost like reverence, and it sent a thrill through you.

You watched as he knelt before you, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the part of him that knew this was wrong, that wanted to resist—but the desire was stronger, and he couldn't bring himself to stop.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair, your touch surprisingly gentle. "That's it," you murmured, your voice softening just a fraction. "Such a good Father... doing exactly what you're told."

You took a step back, your eyes never leaving his as you moved to the nearest wall, leaning against it comfortably.

With slow, deliberate movements, your hands reached down, unzipping your mini skirt and letting it slide down your legs, pooling around your ankles. You made a show of it, your fingers tracing along your thighs, sliding over your hips, and letting out a soft sigh as you watched him.

Charlie's eyes widened, his gaze following every movement, his lips parted, his breath catching in his throat. The flush on his face deepened, his eyes locked onto you with something like awe, mingled with pure, unfiltered desire.

You smirked, lifting one hand and curling your fingers in a come-hither motion. He hesitated only for a moment before slowly beginning to crawl towards you, his eyes never breaking away from yours.

The sight sent a thrill through you, a shiver of excitement running up your spine. He reached you, his hands carefully coming up to rest on your legs, his touch light, almost reverent.

His fingers traced along your calves, moving upwards with a hesitant slowness that made you release a shaky sigh, your back arching slightly as his touch grew bolder.

His hands were trembling as they reached your hips, his fingers brushing against the edge of your underwear. He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking up to meet yours as if silently asking for permission.

You gave a small nod, and he let out a shaky breath, his fingers hooking into the waistband and slowly slipping your underwear down, his eyes fixed on you the entire time.

Once they were off, he shifted closer, his breath ghosting over your bare skin. He surprised you by gently lifting one of your legs, settling it over his shoulder as he pulled you closer, his face inches away from your most intimate parts.

He let out a deep, almost pornographic groan as he leaned in, taking a slow, deep breath, as if breathing you in. The sound sent a jolt through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.

Charlie looked up at you one more time, his eyes searching, as if asking for final permission.

You smiled, your fingers sliding through his hair before giving a gentle but firm scratch along his scalp, your silent approval. He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh before leaning in.

At first, his movements were hesitant, his tongue slipping out to give an experimental swipe. He was sloppy, uncoordinated, his lack of experience clear, but there was a determination in the way he moved, as if desperate to please.

You let out a soft hum, the sound encouraging him, and he grew a little more confident, his tongue pressing more firmly. He licked a long stripe up, his tongue swirling at the top, and you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

"That's it, Father," you murmured, your voice a soft purr. "You're doing such a good job."

The praise seemed to light something in him, a low groan vibrating against you as he pushed in closer. The sound made you gasp, your back arching slightly as the vibrations sent a rush of pleasure through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He grew bolder, his tongue delving deeper, slipping inside you as he began to eat you out like a man starved. He was messy, the wet sounds filling the small space, his lips and tongue moving with increasing fervor, as if the more he tasted, the more he craved.

He bullied his tongue into you, his nose brushing against you as he lost himself in the act, his hands gripping your hips tightly, holding you against him as he worked.

You bit down on your lower lip, trying to keep quiet, but the soft, wet sounds filled the small space, making it impossible to ignore.

Your hand moved up, your teeth sinking into the back of it as you stifled a moan, your thighs trembling as he continued. His tongue moved with determination, pressing deeper, swirling before retreating, then focusing on your most sensitive spot.

When his lips closed around your clit, giving a particularly hard suck, your vision blurred, and stars burst behind your eyelids. Your back arched, your body pressing against his face as the waves of pleasure rolled over you, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Your thighs shook as you slowly came down, your body relaxing slightly against the wall. You let out a shaky breath, your fingers still tangled in his hair, tugging gently. You gave Charlie a small shove, pushing him back just enough.

He hesitated, his tongue giving one last languid lick, followed by a reluctant suck before he finally pulled away, his lips glistening, his breath coming in low, heavy pants. His bottom face was a mess, his eyes half-lidded, dazed as he looked up at you.

You leaned down, your fingers cupping the bottom of his face, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek as you gave him a swift peck on the corner of his lips. He blinked, his eyes widening slightly, a blush deepening across his face.

Straightening up, you reached down, picking up your discarded thong, folding it neatly before slipping it into the pocket of his cassock. He stared at you, his lips parted, his breathing still uneven.

"Thank you, Father~" you purred, your voice dripping with satisfaction. You watched as his blush deepened even more, his eyes darting away from yours. "You know," you continued, your tone teasing, "I might just have to come back for confession more often."

He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours, a mix of confusion and something darker swirling in them. You smiled, giving him a wink before turning on your heel, striding out of the closet, leaving him kneeling there, his breath still shaky, his face still flushed.

As you walked away, a satisfied smile playing on your lips, you couldn't help but think that maybe church wasn't going to be so bad after all.

A/N: hehehe, dont mind me, just wanted to see charlie's and y/n relationship in reversal...

[eddiesghxst]

CRUEL INTENTIONS - part three: eden

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: steddie x innocent/shy!reader

summary: you're a new student at All Saints Catholic Academy and Steve and Eddie have every intention to sink their teeth into you.

contains: enemies to lovers between steddie, blasphemy/religious talk, smoking and alcohol use, blood kink, chasing kink, masked man, depictions of a panic attack, depictions of a threesome, descriptions of heavy guilt, corruption kink, mentions of subtle bullying, mentions of shitty parenting, slut shaming, SMUT - 18+ , oral (m and f receiving), cum play, cheating (not on reader), NON-CON/DUB-CON, and stevie having gay panic <3

word count: 9.9k

WARNING: this fic contains dark themes including - NON-CON/ DUB-CON, manipulation, coercion, and corruption. Please fully read the content warnings before proceeding. Again, THIS IS A DARK FIC, do not read it if you're not comfortable with it!

I previous part | next part I

I series masterlist | -main masterlist- l

Steve has a very strict night routine.

Five days out of the week, Steve has rugby practice until 7. Most boys on the team simply take a quick shower and call it a night, but no, Steve has a step-by-step routine that he follows each night— not even Nancy could sway him from the path of his night routine.

Because you see, when Steve was younger, his parents were prissy and precise. Everything was done on time, and every hour had a task. If Steve were to ever stray from that schedule, he’d be made to feel like a failure. It’s ingrained in him, woven into his DNA, this life of doing things by order. 

So it’s a little shocking (and concerning) that Steve immediately threw his nightly ritual out the window the second Eddie told him about tonight.

And it seems as if this will be a reoccurring theme with you— Steve altering his life just to get a glimpse of you. Because ever since you came along, it’s like Steve’s entire world has been flipped and lit on fire. He can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t stop wanting you. Has to hold your name on his tongue when he’s balls-deep in Nancy because, fuck, you’re the only thing he wants right now. He feels bad, but not enough to stop.

“You’re not fucking her yet, but she has to at least get used to you being around.”

Which is true, Steve supposed. Eddie is many things, but a liar is not one of them. If Steve hopes to ever swing his dick near the pot of gold between your legs, then he has to at least work a little bit for it. This way, he doesn’t have to worry about you running off and telling someone about it.

Trust. Though a distorted version from your point of view, it is still an essential part of this plan.

Steve doesn’t know much about said plan, which is kind of his fault. Because when Eddie approached Steve after a particularly rough day at practice, Steve kind of told Eddie to fuck off, so Eddie just left him with a quick, “If you ever plan on fucking her, then I suggest you haul your ass to my room tonight, asshole.” So, Steve had no choice but to follow through on that.

Because Steve will never get through to you without Eddie. Because Eddie is the catalyst. Eddie is the bridge that Steve needs to reach you— which is annoying because now when Eddie’s got his fist wrapped around his cock, and he’s thinking about you and how pretty you looked with his cum coating your lips, how good you taste, and how pretty you sounded— those familiar brown eyes slip into frame and suddenly Eddie is right there along with you— lingering. Like a phantom.

Steve can’t stand it.

But he needs you. He needs you almost more than he needs air. Because Steve usually gets whatever he wants in the blink of an eye, but you…

You’re forbidden fruit.

And sitting next to you, so close to you, with you squirming and avoiding the screen that displays some cheap porno— Steve thinks he might explode.

You turn to Eddie, shy and scared, digging your fingers into his shirt and tugging. “Eddie, I don’t—“ “Shh, bunny. We’re watching a movie. Didn’t I already tell you not to talk?”

You frown, big, wide eyes soft and wet with tears. You don’t like this; that much is obvious. And Eddie’s struggling to keep a grin off his face like a cocky bastard.

There are soft moans spilling from Eddie’s TV. Two guys, one girl, and oddly enough, the girl looks like you. Steve thinks Eddie did that on purpose, and he can admit it was clever, even if you might be slightly too dumb to notice.

They have the girl on a cheap leather couch, splayed out on her back, with one guy stuffing his face between her legs and the other guy thrusting his cock deep into her throat, wrapping a hand around the bulge in her neck. 

You press your legs together, shifting in your spot again, and Steve catches Eddie’s eye. Eddie subtlety nods towards your lap, giving Steve the green light (not that he fucking needed one), and Steve scoots closer to you.

Steve places a firm hand high up on your thigh, fingers spread deep into the insides of your thighs as he lowly says, “Sit still, sweet girl.”

You frown, caught between two walls with nowhere to go. Nowhere to run— scared little thing, you are.

Steve smooths his hand over your thigh, gently squeezing and molding your skin to his touch, soft and firm yet not enough to bring you pain— Steve doesn’t think he could ever hurt such a sweet thing like you.

The porno is in full swing now, the two men fucking the lady like it’s the last thing they’ll do, and you have big, full tears running down your face as Steve pinches your skin to open you back up. He slinks his hand higher, the lip of your skirt kissing against his wrist, making way for him. His pinky dusts across the hem of your panties, wet as he had expected— all of you wants him, even when you act like it doesn’t.

You gasp and tremble between the boys; your eyes squeezed shut with tears rolling down your cheeks thick as rivers— you look like a small bunny cornered by prey. Precisely what you are.

Eddie coos, shifts so he’s facing you more comfortably. He gently holds your face and coaxes you into opening your eyes. “You like it when Stevie touches you, don’t you?” He says.

You open your mouth to respond, but Eddie quickly butts in, “Ah ah…” He raises a finger to his lips, reminding you that he doesn’t want a single word falling from your lips. And you listen so well— without a single protest— Eddie’s done well on you thus far, but Steve likes to believe you have an obedient nature either way. 

Sentenced to silence, you shake your head no, and Eddie laughs. Soft and deep, brown eyes swimming with hunger and patience, “No?” He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. “You think I don’t know about you cumming on his tongue?”

You tense at that, body rigid beneath their touch as you turn to gaze at Steve with wide eyes, eyes swimming in guilt and the realization that Steve had lied to you. Your frown deepens then, more tears coming and Steve is now the one cooing. “Of course, I told Eddie, bunny. You knew that, though, didn’t you?” He teases.

You let out a muffled sob, squeezing your eyes shut again as tears fall. “You knew Eddie didn’t say you could open your legs for me, and I would have to tell him about your behavior.” He chastises. “So gullible, gonna get yourself in trouble being so stupid, sweet girl.” He gently coos. Your chest stutters with uneven breaths, and Steve’s cock throbs in his sweats.

With you being so unstable, Steve is able to slip his fingers past your panties without a fight. He slips his fingers through your wet folds, warm and sticky, leaning forward to press a kiss under your jaw as you twitch and squirm beneath his touch.

“Look at you,” Eddie prowls, “Shaking for his touch. Again. Did I ever say he could touch you?” 

You huff, eyebrows pinched in frustration as you shake your head. “Then why do you want it?” Eddie asks. Steve sinks a finger into your warm cunt, wetness spilling around his knuckles as your thighs tremble. “I—” Eddie clicks his tongue, reminding you of his rule of no talking.

Steve crooks his finger up, searching for that gummy spot of yours, leaning forward to press a kiss to your neck as you struggle against him. “God, if I knew you were such a slut I wouldn’t have wasted this much time on you,” Eddie says.

You break your rules then, voice pleading and sad as you claw at Eddie’s shirt, “I’m not! I’m not, I swear. I didn’t know!” You sob. Steve watches in awe at the way you crumble for Eddie. You’re so desperate to please him, to be kept under his arm of security, unbeknownst to you that he’s the one you should be running from.

Steve is jealous… but he wants to learn.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Eddie widens his eyes. You shake your head, hips twitching when Steve begins dragging lazy circles over your clit. “H-he told me you said it was okay.” You frown. “Who did? Stevie?” Eddie asks. You nod, and Eddie’s gaze flickers to Steve, a ghost of a grin dancing in his eyes.

“I don’t remember saying that, sweetheart.” Steve lies. 

“Stevie never said that. So, either you’re lying, or Steve is lying. Are you calling Steve a liar, bunny?”

You look frazzled, seconds away from bursting into an uncontrollable fit of tears as Steve continues playing with you. And the truth is Steve is a liar. He lied to you when he said Eddie gave him the green light to get between your thighs. But you know better than to ever point fingers— again, a product of Eddie’s skilled teachings.

You shake your head no with a frown, and Eddie hums. “Well, did you like it? When Steve licked your slutty little cunt?” Eddie asks.

You’re visibly panicked, wide eyes darting to Steve, knowing he will tell the truth if you lie. There is no way out but through for you, and you know it. You shamefully nod, and Eddie hums again. He pets a gentle hand over your hair, letting you nuzzle into him when you begin to tremble with pleasure. “Would you like him to do it again, bunny?”

And if you’re smart enough, you’ll understand that even if you say no, Eddie will somehow coax you into splitting your thighs open for Steve again. You contemplate longer than Steve would appreciate, but the second he pulls his fingers from you and dips them into his mouth, your eyes flash with this little look that Steve has never seen from you.

Lust.

Steve sucks the juices off his fingers lewdly and greedily, never pulling his gaze from you. You watch, wide-eyed with trembling limbs and a pouty lip, Steve wanting nothing more than to kiss them until they’re sore.

Apprehensive yet interested, you nod your head shyly, and if the two boys hadn’t been watching you like a hawk, they probably wouldn’t have even caught it.

Eddie slinks his fingers through your hair, knuckles gently curling at the root as he drags you closer, kissing you filthy and raw. You whine, thighs closing around Steve’s wrist when he finds his hand back on your warm skin. It’s low against your lips, but Steve hears Eddie tell you, “Come here.” And you follow like an eager puppy wanting to please their owner.

Steve can taste you on his tongue, an overwhelming feeling to taste more as he watches Eddie move you around like you’re a lifeless doll. He places you with your back to his chest, your thighs pressed against Eddie’s knees as he gently tips your head back to kiss you again. Steve stands, shrugging off his jacket and letting it drop off somewhere he could care less about because Eddie is splitting your legs apart, presenting you nice and pretty for Steve.

Eddie’s whispering things in your ear, things Steve can’t hear over the low sound of sex from the TV, but he sees you squirm and pout, and he can only imagine he’s saying something about how dirty you are. How cute you are, all slick and ready for someone to put their hands on your greedy cunt. 

Eddie’s eyes flicker up to Steve’s as his hands trail down your sides, thick and decorated fingers pushing your skirt up and petting over your clothed cunt before hooking his fingers in the of the material and pulling it to the side. 

Steve’s hunger grows like an angry beast. Purrs deep in his chest, and puffs out so big it nearly breaks his ribs. He wants to take you right here and now. Press your thighs out as far as they’ll go, lick into your mouth and shove his cock deep into your cunt. It’ll hurt, probably be a fight to fit every girthy inches of him in, but he’ll make it work. You’re a fighter, anyway. Strong, even if you don’t know it.

“Well, don’t make her wait, Stevie. Look at her, she’s dripping.” Eddie purrs, fingers sliding through your wet folds, parting his fingers into a ‘V’ to show off your throbbing heat. 

Steve dips his knee onto the bed, leaning forward to rest on his stomach between your thighs. He takes you in, just as he did that day in the locker room, eyes casting over every piece of your pretty cunt and saving it to remember when he’s got his hand wrapped around his cock. Steve can smell you, drawing him in closer as you throb and a drop of slick slips from you. He groans, fingers gripping the back of your thighs, squeezing and molding you to his touch. 

“You want my tongue, princess?” He purrs. You whimper, shying beneath his gaze when he looks up at you from between your thighs. Steve blows cool air against you just to see you throb and squirm. You huff, lips pouting as you turn your head to look back at Eddie. Steve reaches forward, fingers gripping your chin to pull your face back down to look at him, “Don’t look at him, look at me.”

He runs a thumb over your lip, wet spit catching the pad of his finger. “Is he the one about to eat your greedy pussy?” Steve teases. You whine, shaking your head no. “Answer my question.”

Your hips squirm, halting when Steve’s fingers dig into your skin. Your answer comes shaky and shy, “Yes, please.”

“Good girl. Using your words,” Steve dips his thumb into your mouth, dragging it over your tongue, letting you get it nice and wet before he pulls away, pressing it to your clit. Your legs tremble, panting when he runs circles around the tight bud. Steve purses his lips, spit drooling from his lips to drip down onto your pussy before he leans forward and places his mouth over your pussy, hungrily lapping and sucking. 

“O-oh! Steve, I—” “Shh, shh. I want you to watch them.” Eddie speaks up, leaning forward to speak into your ear, directing your gaze to the TV. “Look at them. See how they’re using her? See how deep they’re fucking her, bunny?” He asks. You nod, Steve’s gaze fluttering as he devours you, fucking his tongue in and out of your warm hole. 

“You want us to do that to you?” Eddie asks, voice low and husky. It makes Steve’s cock throb in his pants. He thinks he hates it, but his mind is fuzzy enough with lust to ignore it. Steve grunts, nuzzling his face deeper into you, and your eyes widen at the words Eddie is saying. “I—” you huff, “I don’t know— s’so bad. It’s not right.” You slur under a whine. 

Eddie hums with a low chuckle, “Then how will you repay us for making you feel so good, hm?” His hands slip up your shirt, kneading at your chest and cracking a smile when you arch into his touch. Steve’s hips roll into the mattress, eyes rolling back into his skull at the pressure. 

“C-can’t, Teddy—” “But you want to. You want to be fucked, don’t you?” He purrs. You tilt your hips into Steve’s mouth, your body begging for more as you shudder between the two boys. You whimper, and Steve’s eyes are fluttering open, locking onto the view in front of him, your pussy fluttering against his tongue. You frown, your fists balled against the sheets as Eddie holds your chin, directing your gaze onto the TV. “See how much she’s enjoying it?” Eddie purrs into your ear. “See how thankful she is to be getting fucked well?”

You grimace at his words, your body melting into their hold with each passing second— Steve can practically see your brain melting out of your ears. You make the prettiest noises, and you move like you don’t know if you want more or less, but Steve doesn’t give you a choice as he tugs you impossibly closer, taking you for all you are. Eddie kisses your neck, wet and sloppily, and you whine like you hate it, but Steve can feel you pulsing around his tongue. 

“You should be thankful too, princess.” Eddie drawls into your ear, his hands still working beneath your shirt. Steve can’t help it when he reaches up and yanks at the buttoned half of your shirt, groaning into your cunt when you gasp and squirm. The sight of your tits spilling into Eddie’s palms drives Steve’s hips into the bed once more, desperate for some sort of pressure. 

Steve pulls away with a gasp, sinking a finger into your cunt as he looks up at you, his swollen lips parted and wet with your slick. “Go ahead then, doll,” Steve nods at you, “Thank us.”

Your chest rattles with a sob, and Eddie grins as Steve coos, “Say it, princess. Thank us for taking care of your slutty holes.” He demands. You cry out then, legs trembling when Steve brushes against that perfect spot, teasing it to keep you away from that release that you crave.

“T-thank you,” you breathe, eyes squeezed shut, your body tensed as you wriggle between them. Eddie growls, gripping your face, gritting into your ear as he speaks, “For what? What are you thanking us for?”

You gasp as Eddie’s teeth drag along your jaw, your eyes fluttering open to hazily look at Steve between your thighs, moaning when he slips in another finger. Your voice is heavy in shame, but you’re too fucked to refuse it as you say, “T-thank you… for taking care of my s-slutty holes.”

Eddie smiles, “Good girl. Let her cum, Stevie, she’s been so good.”

Steve’s mouth is back on you in record time, lapping and sucking and pulling you closer and closer to the edge until you’re crying out a sob so loud that Eddie has to slap a hand over your mouth. Your hips rise off the bed, and Steve pins them back down, groaning into you as he keeps licking you, your thighs closing around his head. And Steve loves it; he loves the feeling of your cute little thigh-high socks scratching up against his ears and your warm, wet skin on his tongue. Steve thinks he could die here, really.

Eddie’s cooing in your ear, telling you how well you did, how much of a good girl you are, and his gaze snaps down to Steve’s when he pulls away from you with a gasp, wiping his mouth and liking his lips like a lion that’s just demolished its prey. Steve sort of feels like one, honestly.

Eddie grins up at Steve, his eyes falling to the evident tent in Steve’s pants when he rises to his feet. You’re barely cohesive when Eddie lightly slaps your cheek a few times, “Wake up, bunny, we’re not done with your holes yet.”

Your eyes are blurred with pleasure when you blink them open, and Steve presses a palm to his crotch. You blearily blink at him, and he nods, “Come here.”

And like an obedient dog, you peel away from Eddie’s arms, your clothes disheveled and twisted as you crawl over to Steve. He reaches out, his hand slinking into your hair to drag you up until he can smash his lips onto yours, a hungry growl rumbling from his chest. Steve knows he should be more gentle with you, you’re such a fragile little thing, but the feeling of power that surges through him when he tightens his grip on your hair and leads you off the bed is damn near like a drug. He wants it in his veins all the time. 

You stumble off the bed, your socked feet knocking against Steve’s— it’s so fucking cute, Steve nearly coos. “On your knees. Get on your knees.” He orders. And again, like you were programmed for this, you fall to your knees, your hazy eyes slowly blinking as Steve sits at the edge of the bed and tugs his pants down. You watch as he wraps a hand around himself, stroking a few times, his hand still stuck in your hair.

Steve’s voice is kinder than his touch when he asks, “You remember what to do, princess?” Nodding with you when you respond, “Good girl, go on. Show me how thankful you are for me.” He says, and you shuffle forward to take him in greedily and sloppy, Steve’s eyes nearly rolling.

You suck him just as you did the first time, though it’s a little bit better than before; Steve supposes you and Eddie have been practicing more than enough. Even though you’re tired from your orgasm and your actions are less calculated, Steve finds himself enjoying it as if you were a pro.

Steve’s groans and mumbles of praise get closer and more slurred, and he supposes it was easy to tell how close he was because Eddie, a presence he had tried (and failed miserably) to ignore, steps into view right behind you, looking down proudly at his perfect project.

Eddie’s gaze holds a devious glare when he locks eyes with Steve as he sinks to squat next to you. He coasts a hand up your back, his fingers firm but gentle when they grip the back of your neck, his gaze finally leaving Steve to watch as your mouth greedily takes Steve’s cock in and out. And Steve is so close, and his body is so hot that he almost misses what Eddie says to you when he leans in— but Steve hears it loud and clear, “Don’t swallow. I want you to keep his cum in your mouth and show me, do you understand?”

And god, you fucking whimper and nod as best as you can, and Steve is a goner. And Steve usually cums a lot, sure. Nancy hates it, says it’s an inconvenience, but god, you take it like it’s nothing but a gift. You sit there, tear-streaked face, droopy eyes, and an open shirt as Steve cums in heavy spurts, coating every inch of your mouth as he curses. It’s so much that some of it spills out the side of your mouth, and the little bit that dribbles from his cock when you pull away lands on your chin, and Steve can’t help but tap his sticky tip against it.

Steve watches, blissed out and panting, as Eddie turns your face towards him. “Let me see, open your mouth.” He says, grinning when your lips part to show the thick mess in your mouth. “Good bunny.” He lowly hums.

And then, in the blink of an eye, Eddie leans forward, drags his tongue along the spilled cum of your face to lap it up before pressing his lips onto yours. Steve hadn’t seen it coming. Not at all.

He didn’t expect that he would be watching Eddie Munson eat his cum off your face tonight. He can see his tongue dipping into your mouth, lewd noises emptying into the air as he pulls Steve’s cum from your mouth and into his own. Yeah, Steve really didn’t expect that. And he doesn’t expect to feel his cock twitch at the sight of it either.

It’s disgusting, is what it is. Disgusting and downright debauchery, but Steve can’t look away, not even when Eddie pulls away and turns to lick his lips while gazing at Steve, a shit-eating grin spreading across his lips.

Eddie brings his thumb to wipe at the drop of cum that had been on the corner of his mouth before sucking it into his mouth— and Steve nearly cums again, and his cock throbs, and Eddie’s gaze flutters to see the way Steve’s dumb dick has filled with blood yet again. A small smirk rises on Eddie’s lips, and Steve can feel the heat rising in his cheeks— which is surprising, honestly, considering most of his blood is flooding downstairs. Eddie’s gaze flickers back to Steve’s wide eyes, and he finally says— “Not bad, Harrington.”

Steve nearly passes out.

What the fuck?

“Halloween is of pagan origin— therefore, we, as children of god, do not participate in any form of celebration on this day.” 

The week of Halloween has always brought an eerie feeling to you. Gorey movies and costumes of demons and distorted faces— it’s scary. Aside from the candy, you never understood why people loved the holiday so much. Your friends never understood your reasoning or why your parents would never in a million years agree to let you go trick or treating, but their judgment never bothered you enough to change your opinion.

The priest looks at the students, an unwavering expression of sincerity plastered on his face as he says, “Be wise with how you spend your time this weekend. There will be consequences for any of you who choose to participate in any activities pertaining to Halloween; am I understood?”

The room mumbles in agreement, as does yourself, and the priest nods before carrying on to close mass. Beside you, Nancy sits with her bible and journal in her lap; eyes cast forward on the priest. She’s been glancing over at Steve all night, watching him during prayer and nearly half of the service— you know this because you had been watching him right along with her, though your reasoning is not the same as hers.

Steve Harrington, star rugby player with his pretty brown eyes and honey-thick locks, was anything but kind when he pulled you aside before mass. He was greedy, possessive with his hold and grabby when he hiked your skirt up, pressed your face against the janitor's closet door, forced your thighs together, and rutted into them like a dog in heat. He had a rough practice, so he said. 

He apologized for being rough, said he didn’t mean it when he squeezed just a little too hard around your throat, and you all but sniffled and nodded and told him it was okay even though you were scared and your thighs now sting with friction burn. 

He had a tough day, and the least you could do was not make him feel bad about it. That being said, it doesn’t stop the stir of guilt that sat in your chest throughout mass. 

It’s hard not to feel guilty when your roommate's boyfriend's spend is sitting between your thighs, warm and squishy and tucked safely against your folds. It’s sickening, and it nearly makes you dizzy with shame. But Steve said it was okay, that friends do this thing, and Nancy understands; she would just rather not discuss it.

You could barely focus during mass, too busy trying to grasp what you and Steve had just done and trying desperately not to show it on your face. Despite your efforts, you can’t help but feel as if Nancy can see straight through you, and that’s why she's been watching him all night.

As soon as you’re dismissed, you begin working up the nerve to ask her, the words rolling around in your mind as you rise from your seat, but the second you turn to Nancy, she’s turning to go after Steve and you’re being tugged back by a firm hand.

“Where are you running off to, bunny? Don’t we have plans?”

You gaze up at Eddie, glancing over to watch as Nancy slinks out of the pew, and you nod, “Yes, but I—” “Then let’s go. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Eddie all but drags you out of the chapel, tugging you along and slipping past the dark courtyard to get to the back of the dormitory. Nobody ever supervises the back of the dormitories. Eddie told you to always come through this route; that way, you can get into his room without a hassle. 

The path is dark, nothing but the moon and Eddie’s firm hand to guide you, and you try to focus on anything else but the snap of twigs beneath your feet and the burn between your thighs. However, the only thing that comes up in your mind is Nancy. 

“Um, Eddie,” you speak up. 

“What’s up, bunny?”

“I think… I think I may have upset Nancy…” You frown.

Eddie slowly pauses, turning to look at you, lips pressed in a firm line as his eyebrows furrow. “Did you say something to her?” He asks.

He’s towering over you, the darkness swallowing you both, exaggerating his stance. You feel like you’re drowning beneath him, sinking into the mud beneath your feet as you hastily shake your head no.

Eddie is so hard to read in this dim lighting, though he’s never been all that easy to read anyway. You can still hear a slight tone of relief when he says, “Good.”

Eddie turns and pursues the path, leaving you with panic and a racing heart. You didn’t say anything to Nancy— you made sure of it after Steve specifically sat you down and said you could never bring it up. But then, why could she not look at you all through mass? Why does it seem… tense between her and Steve? Are you to blame? Did you do something that may have upset her? 

How do you even ask without revealing the open truth?

The questions swirl in your head like a storm, grey and murky as they slink down your throat and spill into your chest, spreading and laying out with a weight that makes you feel as if the world has just crashed on you. 

You don’t realize you’ve made it to Eddie’s room until a plastic bag is shoved in your hands. You gaze at it briefly, shiny material crinkling between your fingers as you blink and glance toward Eddie.

Eddie nods, “Put it on.”

You step over to Eddie’s bed, put the bag on the mattress, and open it up to pull out the items inside. It’s an outfit, three items to complete a set of what looks to be a bunny costume if the bunny ears are any indication. The only problem, though is the dress, the main piece of the outfit, is incredibly short.

“I can’t wear this.”

You hadn’t noticed, but Eddie was busy getting dressed on the other side of the room. You look over at him, taking in his all-black attire and heavily swallowing when he glances at your laid-out costume. 

“Why not?” He asks. 

You glance at the dress before looking back at him, gesturing down at it as if it’s obvious, “Because it’s revealing!” You exclaim. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and resumes putting on the rest of his clothes, a long black robe-looking thing, “No, it’s not.” He responds. 

Your eyes widen as you look at the short dress, “Eddie, I-I’m not sure this will even cover my entire backside.” You shake your head. And when you lift it and turn it around, you realize that it definitely won’t— at least not comfortably.

“You’ll be fine. Other girls will probably be wearing something worse.” He dismisses. 

Your teeth gnaw into the soft tissue of your lip as you put the dress back on the bed, eyeing it with worry and dread. It’s… gross. Degrading and immodest in every sense of the word, yet Eddie, your friend, is asking you to wear it. You glance over at him, your world spinning again as you realize what this entire plan is: the costume and the urgency to leave all make sense.

You drag in a shaky breath, slinking your arms around your body as you take a step back, “I think,” you clear your throat before speaking louder to get your point across, “I think I’m gonna head to my room… Maybe study a bit and go to bed…” You softly say.

You step toward the door, not even glancing Eddie’s way because you know if you do, you’ll be stuck trying to please him. But Eddie moves quicker than you can, his hand pressing against the wooden door to stop you from opening it. 

“The dress is fine, doll.”

Your gaze dances up his frame, miles of black leading to his dark brown eyes. You want to be strong, put your foot down, and tell him no, but your tongue is tied. As it always is when it comes to Eddie.

You softly say his name, and he tilts his head, an ice-cold glare stuck on your eyes, daring you to say something more. Gravity pulls on your lips and your eyes, water threatening to spill down your cheeks when Eddie lowly and steadily says, “Go put on the outfit.”

You want to cry.

You want to wail and kick and scream until Eddie has no choice but to let you run to your room and stay there until Monday morning. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want to wear this costume you’ve been forced into, and you don’t understand why Eddie, who is supposed to be your friend, is being anything but friendly tonight. 

He doesn’t care that you didn’t want to wear the outfit. He doesn’t care that it’s revealing, that you feel uncomfortable, or that it’s hardly forty degrees outside and you’re shivering. He doesn’t care that you have to keep tugging the tiny dress down your thighs or that you’re practically stumbling over your feet with the heels he forced you to wear. And he doesn’t care to ask why your mascara is running when he looks over at you and wipes it away; he simply tells you that you look pretty, “Like a doll.”

You feel disoriented. Far from yourself and disgusted, and you can’t help the aching feeling in your chest when you think about how saddened your parents would be to see you like this. Half dressed in the middle of a Halloween party. They’d disown you, you’re sure of it.

Eddie’s hold is tight on you the whole night, whether on your hand, your waist, or his heavy hand resting on the back of your neck. He always has a hand on you. Oddly enough, Eddie’s touch seems to ground you despite how displaced you feel. It’s comforting to have something familiar while you struggle to grasp your morality. 

What are you doing here? How did you get here? Do you like this? Do you enjoy Eddie’s company enough to brave through this? 

You think you do.

The music is loud, and it’s packed with dancing bodies from wall to wall. You have to repeatedly tip the bunny ears on your head back into place from where they keep slipping, and you debate ripping it off every time. You can feel the bass of the music in your chest, the scent of liquor and smoke filling your lungs as neon lights dance across your eyes. 

Eddie has softened through the night. You’re not sure what had him wound up before, but he is back to doting on you, occasionally turning to you and brushing the skin under your eyes as his gaze softens and he asks if you’re okay. And you’re not. You’re cold and uncomfortable, and you want to go home, but Eddie’s touch is kind, so you find yourself nodding each time. And then he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, cool lips brushing against your skin, and returns to whatever he’s been doing all night. Stepping off into corners and sliding these bags to people in exchange for something you can’t quite see in the dim lighting of the house, but when you asked him, he told you not to worry about it. 

There’s a cup in your hands, a drink that Eddie gave you, which you have been slowly sipping for the better part of an hour. It’s sweet, almost too sweet, but there’s a bitter aftertaste that somehow balances it out enough for you to keep sipping on it. 

Eventually, you find yourself squirming with the need to pee, turning to Eddie and leaning up to reach his ear and tell him. He squeezes your hip, “I’ll be here, doll.” And you had hoped that Eddie would tag along with you for your safety and comfort, but he only turns back to the secretive conversation he’d been having.

You find yourself wandering up the stairs, eyes dancing around searching for a restroom. It’s just your luck that the first door you open happens to be one, empty and surprisingly clean for the chaos unfolding throughout the party. 

You try to be quick about it, eager to find your spot back next to Eddie, where you feel something along the lines of tolerable. You don’t miss the reflection of yourself in the mirror as you wash your hands, smudged mascara, taunting bunny ears, whorish clothing. You frown, tears pressing against your waterline as you gaze at yourself. 

Wrong. Open, unrecognizable, and wrong. 

Your shaky fingers grab at the bunny ears on your head, ripping them away and tossing them in the direction of the trash can, clattering to the floor in empty noise. 

After having a moment to breathe by yourself, you think you’ll ask Eddie to leave now, the pending urge to leave only growing stronger by the second.

You flip the bathroom light off and open the door, stepping out without looking, only to slam into a body. Apologies roll off your tongue as you stumble back, nearly falling from your stupid heels. Through your tears, you look up at the person, dressed in black and tall, face covered with a mask of black, distorted eyes, and a wide black mouth. 

You blink, stepping back as you mutter another apology, but they say nothing as they gaze down at you. Your heart races, fear seeping through you and staining like berries as you whip around and walk away— Eddie. Just get back to Eddie.

Unstable on stilts, you make your way back down the stairs and into the lion's den, crowded with drunk people dancing and talking, unmindful of where they go. And this house is big— too big. Big enough that when you glance around and realize you don’t know where you’re going, you start to feel even more panicked. 

Every corner is different yet the same:: dark lighting, flashing lights, and the music is too loud. You don’t know anybody here, and you don’t know your way back to Eddie. A glance over your shoulder and the panic amps to the nines as you realize the masked man is just a few feet away from you.

Is he following you? Why is he following you?

Fear runs through you like a freight train. Your feet carry you faster, weaving through people as your weary gaze jumps from corner to corner. Masked figures, blood, and distorted faces meet you at every turn. You never liked Halloween; you think you hate it now.

Eddie is nowhere to be seen, and you’re scared. Every place you turn is empty of your relief, and every glance back is full of fear. And you don’t feel good. You feel sick. Detached from your hands and feet yet so stuck in the walls of your skin— where is Eddie?

Tears are streaming down your face, but you hardly feel them as you pace towards the sight of a door. You don’t look back anymore, too afraid to see the gaping face of a void staring back at you, waiting to eat you alive— the hungry wolf and the weak lamb— just as Eddie had said.

The clearing of the front door is near, and your legs hardly feel real. You should’ve never come here. You should’ve never put on this outfit. You should’ve never gone out on your own and lost Eddie. You are wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and you’re scared.

And just as you come within a few feet of the door, a hand grabs your arm, and you jolt, pushing away until that familiar voice rings in your ear— “Hey, it’s me. It’s just me, where are you—” 

You throw yourself into Eddie’s arms, tears falling in droves as you sob into his chest. Eddie’s embrace is like a nest— a warm, carefully crafted, and woven nest made to hold you and keep you safe. You should’ve never left his side.

His hand gently holds your head, soft coos seeping into your ear as he asks, “What’s wrong, bunny? What happened?”

You cry, body trembling in his hold as you try to piece your words together, “I-I couldn’t find you and somebody— that guy w-was following me,” you cry.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What guy?”

Your words come out in choked sobs, a shaky finger lifting past Eddie’s shoulder, “T-the guy in the mask!” You stress. 

Eddie turns, looking in the direction of your finger, confusion and something else etched across his face when he turns to you, “…There’s a lot of masked people here, bunny; you’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that.” He says.

You cry, disoriented and confused because the man is nowhere in sight. Eddie guides you outside with a gentle hand on your back, softly cooing as you sob. The air is cold and sharp against your barely covered skin, but you hardly feel it. 

You’d been spinning all night, around and around in a foggy cloud of discomfort, and the crash hurts more than the fall. But Eddie is here. He is here, and he’s holding you, and he’s wiping your tears, and asking you to breathe, “Tell me what happened, doll. Describe the guy.”

And through wracked sobs and shaky words, you describe what you saw: black cape, white mask, two big black eyes, and a gaping mouth. Hungry and ready to devour you. 

“Woah, what the fuck happened?” 

It’s Nancy; you know it’s Nancy despite your inability to see straight. She steps into frame, a gentle hand on your arm as she looks at your distraught face. Not far behind her stands Steve, a look of concern on his face.

“Some fuckin’ creep was following her,” Eddie mutters.

Your breaths come in shaky gasps, trembling hands coming up to wipe at your wet eyes. You try to speak, but your words hardly make sense, so Nancy softly coos and tells you to calm down.

Another flow of tears fall, and you only want to wrap yourself back in Eddie’s arms. 

“And where were you?” Steve snaps.

Eddie looks at Steve, expression unreadable when he replies, “She went to the restroom.”

“And you didn’t go with her?” Steve prods. 

Nancy consoles you, wiping your tears and telling you you’re okay as Steve and Eddie bicker over things you can hardly manage to wrap your head around. Finally, Nancy turns to them, “Would you two shut up? It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get her home; I think we’ve all had enough of tonight.” She snaps.

And even though you’re upset that Nancy has taken you from your source of comfort, you’re glad she leaves no room for debate. Nancy leads you down the steps of the house and you catch a glimpse of Eddie and think tomorrow you’ll have to apologize for ruining the night. For losing him and making a scene of your own mistake. 

As you fall asleep later, you can’t help the few tears that slip down your face and drop onto your pillow as you all but hope Eddie can forgive you.

Steve’s had a rough weekend. 

What started with a small disagreement with Nancy over his schedule with rugby has spiraled into Nancy completely ignoring him. On top of that, Steve is furious with Eddie’s mistake of not protecting you, and Eddie doesn’t seem to care. And as if that’s not enough, rugby finals are just around the corner, and Steve’s team is falling short to fucking play like they mean it.

Steve woke up with a headache, a sign that today would be just as rough as the night before, where Steve spent the better part of an hour with his father nagging him over the phone. Steve’s not sure what his father wants from him: a college degree or someone to run his company— either way, he won’t get both.

So, with a pounding head and a deep sigh, Steve got out of bed and began his game day rituals.

Morning run, shower, finish assignments, roll out that stubborn muscle in his thigh, and head down to the field.

Practice runs short, as it always does on game day. Steve doesn’t want to waste any energy his players can use on the field, so he lets them off the hook earlier with a warning to not do anything stupid. 

And usually, by the time the game is about to start, Steve is pumped and ready to win; he talks up a big game to his players and riles them up. But today, Steve is merely a silent brewing storm. He’s tense. There’s a chip on his shoulder, and he can’t fucking reach it, and he doesn’t even know where to begin to figure it out. 

Because the truth is, Steve loves Nancy. And he wants you. And he wants to be the perfect son. And he wants to win every game. He wants, he wants, he wants. But how much of it can he actually get?

Midway through the game, Steve’s team is down by enough to put him in a bad mood. His storm is pushing and pulling, churning in dark clouds on the sidelines as he watches his team play like shit. Steve isn’t even here, he thinks. He’s somewhere else. Somewhere between space and the busy thoughts in his head.

And as if the other team making another score isn’t enough, Steve suddenly hears your name tumbling from the lips of another teammate— “Did you see her on Friday? I had a feeling that innocent shit was all an act— she probably fucks like she gets paid for it.”

And Steve bites so hard into his tongue that he tastes metal. Warm and bitter, inking across his tongue like spilled milk.

He shouldn’t say anything. He shouldn’t. Not when Nancy is already on his back, asking about his whereabouts and throwing fits over nothing— because the guys talk. They’ll open their mouths for any pair of walking tits, and Steve can’t afford that. Not now. He doesn’t need it.

But then— “Wait— Harrington, isn’t your girlfriend roommates with her?”

Steve glances at the two boys, snickering like thieves, enjoying the taste of berating you on their tongues. Steve can hardly hold back the snarl on his face when he looks at them and replies, “No.” Stiff and quick.

Noel, the boy who’d made the comment about you, is now sitting right next to Steve and looking at him in confusion, “But they’re friends, right? I see them together all the time.” He points out. 

Steve can’t deny that because it’s true. You and Nancy hang out on campus often, so he curtly nods, “Yeah. They’re friends.”

Noel hums, spreading his thighs to take up space as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He looks at Steve and tilts his head as if he’s thinking, which Steve is sure he can’t even do, “So, can you confirm or deny that she’s more of a slut than she lets on.”

Steve looks at Noel, imagining his hands wrapped around his neck as his face twists in distaste, “She’s not a slut.”

Noel scoffs around a laugh, “Sure as hell dressed like one the other night.” he snickers, nudging his other snickering friend, Barry. They laugh as if it’s funny, making a snide comment about how your ass looked in your dress. Steve’s tongue is nearly bitten off. 

“That doesn’t make her a slut.” Steve snaps.

Noel and Barry glance at each other, and laugh in disbelief, “Relax, Harrington. No one’s gonna tell Nancy you cracked a joke about how hot her roommate is.” Barry teases.

Steve doesn’t say anything; just rolls his eyes and glares back at the game. But Noel is nothing if not a fucking test of patience. Steve never liked Noel, and honestly, if he weren’t a good stand-off player, Steve would’ve written him off long ago.

“Think you could put in a word for me, man?”

Steve doesn’t bother looking at Noel as he snaps, “No, dude. Fuck off.”

Noel nudges Steve as if pushing him closer to the line Steve has been dancing on all weekend, “Come on dude, quit being so uptight, it’s just pussy.”

Just pussy. 

Steve doesn’t know what snaps in him, but the second he hears it— just pussy— he hardly thinks twice before standing and curling his fists into Noel's jersey to throw him down off the bench.

“What the fuck—“

Steve steps over him, reaches down to grip the front of his jersey, and pulls him up, anger pumping through him in droves as he glares down at the boy and snaps, “Say one more thing about her.” 

Barry, Noel’s knight in shining armor, steps in and grips Steve’s shoulder, pulling him off his friend and shoving at his chest. He sizes Steve up, face twisted in annoyance as he seethes, “Dude— calm the fuck down.”

Steve shoves the boy off of him, “Fuck you.” He snaps. Steve steps up to him, “You wanna know a real slut, Barry? Ask your sister, I fucked her.” He spits. 

The words slip out easily like water, inky black with leeches to stick to skin and drain his veins— and it fucking works because not a second passes before a fist drives into Steve’s face, blood pooling in his mouth like an open dam. It rings loudly and echoing, with radio static in his ears. Steve can hardly hear his coach yelling, marching over to grab Steve off of Barry.

Steve doesn’t feel the pain in his hand, but he will once the adrenaline wears off, his knuckles tapped from the hard bone of Barry’s cheek. He doesn’t even remember punching him. 

The coach shoves Steve in the opposite direction of Barry, frustration in every vowel of his words as he spits out, “You’re out, Harrington!”

Steve doesn’t fucking care. He doesn’t care to be thrown out of the game, hell they were gonna lose anyway. He doesn’t care that he’s the captain and should be setting an example— Steve doesn’t care. He’s pissed off, and he can hardly think straight as he storms off the field. 

Steve’s storm is windy and brutal, the anger so hot in his throat that he can barely swallow. Steve will regret what he did later; he knows he will, but how could he sit there and let them talk about you like that and not do something? 

You, who is so kind and caring to assholes that don’t deserve a second of your attention. You, who has never made yourself a problem yet has been picked on since you’ve come to All Saints. You, who hardly knows right from wrong— because Steve is so, so, so wrong, and still you look at him with these soft, doe eyes that make Steve want to scream and cry simultaneously. You, who Steve thinks about as he falls asleep next to his girlfriend. 

How could anybody speak lowly of you?

You’re worth every bit of regret Steve will face, he thinks. No matter how clouded his judgment is.

There’s blood in his mouth, and dull aching in his jaw that will soon become a throbbing pain, and one would think Steve has had enough fights for the night, but that switch is suddenly flipped yet again when a voice comes from a few feet away— “Rough night, Harrington?”

The locker room is just steps away, and the noise of the losing game is now distant. Across the carpool lane stands Eddie, a cigarette burning between his fingers as the city light dances across his figure. He looks so stupid, standing there like a shadow, taunting Steve as if this is some sort of joke to him.

Steve gazes at Eddie, watching as he brings the cigarette up to his lips, talking around a cloud of smoke when he adds, “You look like shit.”

Shaky breaths, radio static, warm metal. City light, cigarette smoke, stupid fucking shadow.

Steve’s jaw aches when he clenches his teeth before speaking, “Are you following me?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Do you want me to follow you?”

Annoying. So fucking annoying, that’s all Eddie has ever been. An annoying asshole with something smart to always say.

“Why would I want you to follow me?”

Eddie shrugs, a hand in his pocket, “Some people like that shit.” He says.

Steve stalks over, unbridled anger in each step as he draws closer to Eddie. He sneers as he glares at Eddie, “The fuck is your problem?” He snaps.

Eddie blinks, brown eyes gazing at Steve as he responds, “I don’t have a problem.”

“Then quit being so fucking weird.” Steve spats, face twisted in disgust. 

Eddie raises an uninterested eyebrow, “Wasn’t aware I was.” He coolly replies. 

Steve’s fingers curl into his palm, an angry fist against his side as he glares at the boy before him. Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s fist, lips ticking up in a small smile as his gaze flickers back to Steve’s.

Steve’s face grows hot in anger. He leans in, venom on his tongue when he spats at Eddie, “Fuck you.”

Eddie, like the asshole he is, gets a glint in his eye as he quickly whips back, “Thank you.” As if nothing ever bothers him. Steve sometimes wonders if Eddie knows how to bleed. Does he know how to respond to a punch? A kick? A bite? Steve’s not so sure that he does. 

Steve decides spending another second on Eddie would be a waste, so he turns on and walks away. He’s still hot with anger, still tasting blood in his mouth, still thinking about those assholes on the turf, still thinking about the asshole a few feet away from that knows how he tastes.

“And just so you know,” Steve whips around, storming up to Eddie again. Eddie’s gaze flickers back to Steve, tilting his head in interest. Steve feels a feeling he’s never felt before brewing in his chest— a deep anger that he’s never tasted and comes up sharp on his tongue.

“I’m not fucking gay.” Steve spits.

Eddie blinks and nods once, “Okay.” 

Steve looks at Eddie, the other boys sharp features glowing under the lamplight as he says, “So don’t do that shit again.” 

Eddie looks at Steve, stoic expression plastered across his face before he tilts his head, “Not sure I know what you’re talking about.” He says, voice low and gravely.

Steve’s blood boils. His fists clench by his sides, and he ticks his jaw, pain rising from the punch he’d taken not too long ago, “Fuck you,” he says, “You know what I’m talking about.”

Eddie’s eyes have an annoying glint when he responds, “Seemed like you enjoyed it, Harrington.” He says beneath a subtle smirk. Steve steps forward, fists curling into the leather of Eddie’s jacket as he leans in and seethes, “You��re fucking disgusting. Try pulling that shit again, and I won’t hesitate to fucking kill you.”

Eddie smirks, brown eyes dancing over Steve’s face, a halo of warm light around his curly hair. Eddie’s voice is like hot honey, “That a threat or a promise, captain?” 

“That’s a fucking promise.”

Brown pools of earth swirling like a whirlpool stare into Steve’s eyes. Smoke and cheap cologne, hairspray, leather. Steve’s anger is so loudly rushing through his veins he can hear it, flooding through his ears like a river. 

Steve is in the eye of the storm. The wind is still, the air is crisp, and the light overhead flickers.

Steve doesn’t know how it happens. He doesn’t know who invades whose space, but the taste of his blood mixes with the taste of cigarette smoke, dull with mint and spit. Eddie’s lips are warm and rough because Eddie needs some fucking chapstick, but Steve doesn’t complain. He can’t. Not when Eddie’s dipping his tongue into his mouth and tasting his blood, humming like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. 

Steve’s knuckles are tight in Eddie’s jacket, short nails carving into the leather. Eddie’s tongue is like a curious snake, running over Steve’s tongue, dipping through the valleys and ridges of his teeth, licking over his palate. Eddie’s tongue slinks back into his own mouth, his lips curving against Steve’s lips as his cold fingers brush against Steve’s hips— and suddenly, the winds are picking up, and Steve shoves at the curly-haired boy, stepping away with a heaving chest as he glares at the boy.

Eddie’s lips are tainted a faint red, brown eyes bright yet gloomy as they gaze at Steve. Steve grimaces as he wipes his mouth, spitting out blood onto the concrete as if Eddie’s spit is the worst thing he’s ever tasted. 

Eddie smiles, looks at Steve like he can see right through him, and Steve fucking hates it. Steve turns, body thrumming in some sort of sick and twisted adrenaline, eyes cast ahead of him as he marches toward the door of the locker room.

“By the way, Steve,” Eddie calls out behind him, “It was me.”

Fuck him. Fuck him and fuck everything that he says and does— Steve hates that every word Eddie says leaves him questioning, hanging, wanting more. Steve turns and glares at Eddie, vitriol in his voice as he spits out, “The fuck are you talking about?”

Eddie’s lips tip in a smile, boot-clad feet clicking against the cement as he stalks over to Steve, “The guy following her. It was me.” He shrugs.

Steve looks at Eddie, dancing over his face, looking for a crack in his expression— he finds none. Steve feels… he feels stupid. Stupid for being blind to the little game Eddie is so easily playing, puppeteering you and him with an expertise that makes Steve wonder— how many times has he done this? How many people?

Steve spent the whole weekend churning in anger, only to be told it was Eddie the entire time. He feels naive and dumb.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Eddie snickers with a shrug, stopping in front of Steve, “Made it more entertaining.”

Steve swears he feels Eddie’s lips on his, and if it weren’t for the sight of them splitting into a shit-eating grin, he’d believe they were still pressed against that lamppost, swapping spit and blood.

“Fuck you.” Steve spits.

Eddie’s smile smears in Steve’s vision as he turns his back to him and walks toward the building, heart racing in his chest and bile churning in his stomach.

Eddie’s voice rings in his ears as Steve opens the locker room door, “Goodnight, Harrington.”

Steve hardly sleeps that night.

part four.

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@ratsematary @qtheressurections

a/n: HI HI HIIII !!! first of all, i am so incredibly sorry for how delayed this chapter was, i truly hope you guys even remember this story *cries*, either way, thank you for being so patient <33 this chappy was all about stevie battling his demons (bisexuality) soooo, not much established, but we're getting to the action very soon I promise!!

if you made it this far, thank u so much for reading, any and all feedback is appreciated and loved <3 I hope you all have a wonderful 2025 and stay safe; and as always, thank u and i love you always!!

[girldriveroscar]

carcar dynamics… thoughts?? ive been reading fic recently and im partial to oscar bossing carlos around lol

bro i have so many carcar thoughts like i had to cut myself off here bc i could fr not stop😭

BUT YESSSSSSSS MEAN OSCAR IS MY BREAD BUTTER AND JAM!

to me carcar thesis is, genz oscar who accepted he wasnt straight the minute he got a finger up there versus repressed catholic guilt daddy issues carlos and they have weird kinda bad (until it gets good) sex about it.

oscars whole thing is like,,, youre the most annoying motherfucker on earth trapped in a hot mans body (and i have to suck your dick bc thats just unfair) and carlos’ thing is im a latent bisexual who thinks sexually dominating the guy i dont like isnt gay – i’m just asserting that im a better driver in all ways (including rimming (bro what))

carlos feminizes oscar a shit ton bc he’s only had sex w woman prior to this and oscar dgaf he’s game for whatever as long as carlos shuts up in the end by oscar #freaking the brains out him

but oscar fs gets off to carlos crying and WANKS IT to carlos’ whiny radios (and eventually carlos gets over himself when he realizes he js wants to be told what to do an he lets oscar dom)

[002yb]

Oh, but Talon!Dick and priest!Jason

Dick is overthinking about how he is corrupting Jason, that poor innocent and pure priest

Jason just thinks his slowburn with the hot bird man is burning too slow, he want to do more than hold hands and chaste kisses

Catholic guilt has got nothing on this man. Father Todd? The thirstiest of priests. The visual of this man sitting on the stone steps leading up to his church, all dressed in his priestly vestments while chain smoking and bouncing his heel in agitation because this wonderful fucking monstrous abomination won't fuck him is so ahhhhahaha.

Just a series where Jason is so ready to give his life over to sin and depravity for this night terror monster, but it'd seem while God might be forgiving, the devil Jason's ready to kneel for is not. The irony.

There's so much blasphemy below the cut.

(๑/////๑ " )

The tradition of lighting a candle to represent a prayer? Jason lights all of them. Call it an SOS. A beacon to father, son, holy spirit - Jason is begging.

Talon appearing from out of nowhere and snuffing candles (Jason's prayers to get down and dirty) and Jason just stares, jaw dropped and wide eyed because 1) this is God's will enacted in such a vicious way and 2) Talon hasn't got a damn clue

Poor guy just thinks he's helping reduce Jason's risk of death by fire, but also? He's saving his own eyes because it is bright

More thoughts and shenanigans:

The first time Talon sees Jason, Jason is praying. Sat in one of the pews, rosary in hand and with the diffused colors of stained glass slanting over his skin - a touch of moonlight; something soft in the night

It complements the first time Jason sees Talon - standing before the alter. Contemplating it. Trying to bathe in that same light that made Jason something holy, only Talon feels nothing. Too tainted. Too wretched.

Only where Talon hid when Jason looked up into the rafters or into the dark shadows of the church's architecture where Talon was, Jason doesn't. It's a profession thing, of course, but also? It's Jason. He sees someone hurting - he goes to them.

Which leads to a scuffle with Talon getting Jason pinned down against the alter, hand around his throat and drawing blood and he flinches because it's Jason - bathed in moonlit glass again, pure and good and Talon falters

Which Jason takes advantage of, because he might be a holy man but he's no schmuck, thanks. So he flips them off the alter and pins Talon to the floor, wild-eyed and with bared teeth. Not so much to intimidate, but because Jason renounces violence but still finds some thrill in a fight

So it's just them. Jason in his black priest robes sat smugly atop Talon, one of Gotham's more horrific legends. One foot pinning Talon's bicep, the other his wrist.

But Jason saw it in the way Talon reacted to his own violence - it wasn't intentional. It was a learned reaction, of which Jason has many; he can't judge.

That doesn't stop him from getting cheeky with it (with teasing Talon for spooking him). In that same vein, it doesn't stop him from getting a little freaky, either (inviting Talon for some wine).

That's exaggerated. Jason would probably take care of Talon, first. Which would genuinely spook Talon. Who would repeatedly come back and Jason would accommodate. Just a slow crawl, slowburn romance that reaches a head when an injured Talon comes to Jason bleeding and in need of help and yeah

And more:

Where during the will-they-won't-they stage where Jason is desperation incarnate, Jason hides out in the confessional booth to breathe because he wants Talon so damn bad and Talon just won't.

And Jason knowing it's not a matter of not wanting to, just that Talon...can't, or something along those lines.

Talon sitting in the opposite booth, only a thin partition to separate them. Him knowing that he's upset Jason because Jason's been huffing and puffing about being teased for too long and being frustrated and Talon is sheltered, but with Jason he's quick to understand the meaning of wanton - it's Jason.

Jason scoffing because Talon has nothing to ask forgiveness for, go away

But Talon stays because: 'not yet.'

Which, oh?

Then they talk about where Talon is with everything. And it's such a heartfelt, romantic and tender sentiment. Loving and reverent that even when Talon parts for the night (or as dawn approaches), Jason stays in the confessional. Head in his hands to hide how he blushes.

Because from Talon's perspective, there's no cleansing a soul like his. He's something damned, something ruined.

Misguided. He's someone who's been hurt. He's someone who's hurting.

'That's why you won't touch me?'

'It would be sacrilegious.' Because for Talon, Jason is sacred.

Vaguely related, but Talon refusing to let Jason be a lamb that bleeds for him. Jason and Talon having extensive arguments discussions about how God isn't that way, how Jesus paid that price, how with faith something something etc etc. Basically, Talon not understanding religion or faith. But also? Finding some sort of religion/faith in Jason??

This reply is lengthy, so parting notes on shenanigans and tomfoolery:

Talon flipping up Jason's priests robes out of curiosity one day and Jason startling and flustering so bad. Of course he's got pants on, but omg wtf

Jason preparing for communion. Wine? Check. Tiny breads/crackers? Che- no? Jason scrambling around because he knows they're somewhere. And that's when Talon shows up out of nowhere beside him, munching on the metaphorical body of Jesus fuuuuuuuuccc---

Similar to the above, but Talon fucking around with the vestibule/holy water. Only it's something that no one can get mad at because Talon like - brings birds to it for a bird bath or something and it's cute

Tbh forgot this was initially a post about thirsty Father Todd, whoops. Just to round it out though, something something Jason laying back on a pew and pulling Talon over him. Being crowded in that narrow space, but Jason shivering in delight as they fool around (it doesn't get far, of course lol). Jason getting all breathless because his collar is too tight and Talon stripping Jason down, just undoing the collar and robe and spanning his hand beneath it. Pffft Jason thinking he's going to get his tit fondled, but Talon's really just feeling Jason's heartbeat.

Also, were this a horror/mystery story:

Talon listening in on confessionals and carrying out kills according to how he knows Jason feels about them

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Parables of a Butler

by PatronSaintOfGotham And the disciples came and said to Him, “Why do You speak to them in parables?” He answered and said to them, “Because it has been given to you to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given. For whoever has, to him more will be given, and he will have abundance; but whoever does not have, even what he has will be taken away from him. Therefore I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand. And in them the prophecy of Isaiah is fulfilled, which says: ‘Hearing you will hear and shall not understand, And seeing you will see and not perceive; For the hearts of this people have grown dull. Their ears are hard of hearing, And their eyes they have closed, Lest they should see with their eyes and hear with their ears, Lest they should understand with their hearts and turn, So that I should heal them.’ Matthew, 13:10–15 One-shot. Alfred reflects on the Robins. Words: 4742, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: DC Animated Universe (Timmverse), Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), Batman: The Animated Series, Batman: Wayne Family Adventures (Webcomic), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics), The Batman (Cartoon 2004), Robin (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Nightwing (Web Series), Red Robin (Comics), Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), DCeased (DC Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members (DCU), Tim Drake (DCU), Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth, Batfamily Members & Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth, Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth & Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Jason Todd is Robin, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Tim Drake's Missing Spleen, Tim Drake Needs a Hug (DCU), Tim Drake is Robin (DCU), Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne Feels, Dick Grayson is Robin, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Hurt Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, Alfred Pennyworth is a Saint, POV Alfred Pennyworth, Awesome Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Robins are the Same Age (DCU), parables, Catholic Guilt, Catholicism, Catholic Imagery, Introspection, Personal Growth, Anthology, Jason Todd's Batarang Scar, Caring Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily is a Mess (DCU), Batfamily Angst (DCU) via https://ift.tt/qKhUkgP

[qcomicsy]

Hi

Can you recommend me Bat-family comics to read? Which ones do you like?

Heyyyy

I would love it!

DISCLAIMER Keep it in mind I'm a casual reader so my recs might not be the most "this is every issue they are together" or the longer ones!

Let's go!

Nightwing Annual (2021)

Dick & Jason focused

This is one of my favorites ones, it focuses both on Dick's and Jason's relationship as Nightwing and Robin and Nightwing and Redhood.

The dialogue is great, it has both it's really funny bits but also it's really wholesome ones too and it's full of heartwarming moments.

I absolutely adore the way they handled Jason's Robin and acknowledges his violent tendencies without judging him for it.

He's not portrayed as overly violent and reckless, but as a normal teenager having normal reactions given the things he had to deal in his past.

My only criticism is Jason still using that damn crowbar and how they kept drawing Jason shorter the Nightwing for some reason. I think it was to accentuate the "younger brother" feelings so I forgive the artist.

But it's pretty funny.

He looks like short king

Robin & Batman

Dick and Bruce focused

Oh this one, this one it's so good, so good that almost got me crying on main. It's really beautiful, I wasn't the happiest about how Bruce behaved in the comic but it sat in a fine line between Batdad and Bruce being a terrible father/person.

He is too hard on Robin, but it does show how he is trying.

The art is goddamn beautiful, it has this watercolor look and Dick looks adorable on it.

It also goes deep in Dick's feelings about being Robin and what the whole jig means to him, it respects Dick's relationship with Bruce but without forgetting the love and the moments he had with his biological parents.

It's just really, really beautiful a goddamn gem between the many mistakes DC made with them two over those years.

For Tim and Dick I really recomend

Batman Prodigal (1997)

Note: The whole Kightfell series is great for a Bruce, Dick and Tim read. But for the Batfam feelings you can just focus on the prodigal parts.

Dick & Tim focused

The only thing you have to know to catch up is:

1. Bane broke Bruce's back and dignity, so he couldn't still be Batman.

2. Bruce found this guy called Jean Paul to fill for him.

3. Jean Paul is really fond of punishment and violence and the good ol' catholic guilt and goes a little bit too rogue as Batman for everyone's liking.

4. Bruce takes the mantle from Jean Paul and Nightwing fills in as the new Batman.

I wouldn't call exactly brotherly, because Tim wasn't adopted yet in the timeline this was published but they have their moments.

New talent show case DC #2017

Duke and Jason focused

This is also a favorite. It's a short story (unfortunately) but every single panel is worth it.

It's basically Jason and Duke bonding moment between fighting some baddies and trying to clown each other on the way. 10/10 will always recommend.

Robin War

Jason & Duke & Tim & Damian

This one I've read recently (thanks for the asks people send to me y'all are fucking great) and it's a fucking gem!

It shows a lot their chemistry on the battlefield and how fucking insufferable they are around each other. It also shows how Duke fits as a glove in this family of misfits even before he was an "official member".

Red Hood and the Outlaws Annual (2016)

Another Dick and Jason focused!

Oh this one is a blast! It's also short but so goddamn worth it.

Basically Jason and the Outlaws take a gig in a circus to track a Russian bad guy (gotta love how comic books have unresolved beef with Russians until this day) and well it's a circus so how can you not call Dick Grayson?

It's so goddamn funny and it has no right to be, it still very close in the timeline where Dick and Jason were definitely not in good terms, so their interaction it's all so awkward it's a joy really.

We also got a flashback from Dick and younger Jason as Robin and even the flashback is goddamn hilarious, I had such a good time reading it that it's a must read!

Now If you're here for the angst and general feeling's™

I would highly recomend.

- Nightwing Year One (Dick & Bruce)

- Death in the Family (Jason & Bruce & Dick)

- Red Robin (Tim & Dick / Tim & Damian / minor Tim & Cass / Minor Bruce & Tim)

Note: They don't interact much in this run but when they do it hurts. It also can help you understand the beef between Tim and Damian better.

- DCeased (Damian & Steph / minor Damian & Jason)

Note: It's one of the many, many DC aus but this one it's 'pretty' good (it's decent). Definitely not Batfam focused but it has one one of my favorite Damian & Steph and Damian & Jason moments. It's also one of my favorites interpretations of Damian, he gets so sweet and mature over the years that passes in the comic and his reencounter with Jason rewrote my entirety brain chemistry.

Also unfortunately it's the only time we get to see Damian and Jon growing up together :')

- DC vs Vampires ( Batfam (except Duke because the author is a coward) specially Tim & Damian / Tim & Bruce / Dick & Almost everybody )

Note: Okay this one is a fucking car ride, a rollercoaster if you will. And it's ANOTHER DC au but with yeah VAMPIRES so buckle-up.

It has major Batfam moments in the beginning and one of my favorites Damian and Tim interactions ( I'm going to reblog this with photos because Tumblr is homophobic and isn't letting me add more photos in this shit >:( ). Then it goes hard on betrayal (trying not to add spoilers) and feelings so get ready for that.

I unfortunately haven't finished (casual reader remember that) but the much I've read was really, really good.

It gets very silly very quickly as anything made with vampires generally get (unfortunately they butchered a lot of characters in the process) but if you go head empty no thoughts you're going to get a lot of fun and maybe cry a little if that gets to you.

So this is it. I'm sure it has more of it, and oh I'm sure I forgot a lot of it but those are the one's I could get from the top of my head, so I hope you and all of the people who want to follow it have fun!

Also if someone has more recommendations feel free to add on the Reblogs, I'm sure I will eat it up anyway.

[camryntheking]

Ok! My thoughts on 7x05!

First, i just wanna say that the whole Hen and Karen storyline is awesome! I love that the show is giving queer people so much screen time, especially a Black lesbian couple! And i think its super sweet that they really want to try for Mara! I hope it works out!

Next, i think that has been my favorite cold open so far. The “ITS MEEE” gets me every time (i have already watched it loads of times). I dont have much to comment on it other than it was funny as fuck

Ok. The date scene. I was hoping to see more of Eddie watching them (especially after the stills), but oh well. The second-hand embarrassment i got was… a lot. But i dont think its necessarily a bad thing. It showed how out of his comfort zone Buck was and how he was trying to navigate a terrifying situation. And Tommy? I might have to retract my earlier retraction. Cos wtf?? Literally had just finished talking about how its hard to accept yourself in a “macho” field, then makes a dig at Buck when he fumbles? Not cool. Then not communicating what was happening until he was getting in the Uber? You dont just abandon someone at a restaurant like that. I understand the “you’re not ready” thing, but that was a dick move.

Also, Buck, baby. Sweetheart. Darling. “I look at hot guys’ asses.” Sweetie. Like Maddie said. You are more than an ally lmao. I also just love how Maddie showed interest in getting to know who Buck was talking about and treating the convo after like a normal convo. Because it is! And i love it! But she also emphasized talking to Eddie, because she knew that Eddie would not react poorly. I feel like that just shows how everyone knows how close Buck and Eddie are. TLDR, Maddie is an awesome sister and Buck is lucky to have her ❤️

Next point, the scene where Buck and Tommy talk over coffee. I do think that the hand holding at the end is very sweet and shows how Buck is really trying to be more open, but Tommy is just really starting to rub me the wrong way. Pretty much everything he said contradicts what happened in the date scene. I feel like him being at the wedding is really gonna spark some Jealous Eddie, tho, so i am excited to see that lmao

And Eddie and Marisol? I feel like the show is going in a direction that leads them to breaking up. Like yes, it is showing growth for Eddie and allowed him to acknowledge that he has Catholic guilt, but theres just. No chemistry. It feels awkward. I feel like her being an ex-nun is gonna bring up some issues with Buck and Eddie will not stand for that. I also wanted to point out that i got even more vibes that Eddie could be demisexual, cos he didnt straight up say that he loved Shannon, just that he loved being married to her. And he knows that he is moving too fast and needs to step back a bit

Finally, Buck coming out to Eddie. I do find it funny that Eddie seemed more shocked that Tommy wasnt straight than figuring out Buck isnt straight. But its awesome that Eddie showed interest and genuinely wanted to help Buck through the issue. And the hug? Finally! Give me men not being afraid to hug each other! I feel like this is allowing Buck and Eddie to become even closer (i do hope for Buddie eventually)

Overall, i feel like this episode was great for setting up the development of Buck and Eddie’s relationship (whether it ends up being platonic or romantic). And i am all for Buck exploring his sexuality with someone that isnt Eddie. While Tommy isnt my favorite right now, i do think that he is great for the progression of Buck’s story. I do hope to see more of Dad!Bobby in the coming episodes and how Buck’s parents might react to Tommy. I dont wanna wait three weeks for the next episode 😢. Im ready for the chaos of the Madney wedding

If i think of anything else ill add on, but i think thats all i have for now. Feel free to share your thoughts!

[malfiora]

Characterization Compendium

Key

Star sign: (canon vs. inspiration) traits from that sign that fit with this character

Canon = this is the character's sign based off their official/generally accepted birthday

Inspiration = this is the sign that this character reminds me of, and here's why

Colors are based off the elements each sign could be:

Air • Water • Fire • Earth

Batfam

Bruce

Walks the razor's edge between light and dark and develops an unhealthy but necessary dependence on his kids (particularly Dick) to stay grounded in the light.

Loves his kids, loves being around them, will never say this to them unless he's on the brink of death but there are signs. Loves them all equally but treats them differently based on personality, age, and background, which is often mistaken as him playing favorites (it's not).

Immutable personal moral code but demonstrates mental flexibility (or cognitive dissonance) toward others, especially his allies.

I go back and forth between Catholic, Jewish, and agnostic for him.

Pisces: (canon) works well with any other sign, creative, deeply emotional and intuitive, hates being inauthentic, shuts down when hurt or slighted, nonconfrontational (in relationships not in the field lol – he'd rather ignore the problem than have a difficult conversation about it)

Dick

Extremely observant, which manifests as intuition. This means that both his deductive reasoning skills and ability to read others are par excellence. In social settings, he won't vocalize this process (depending on the context he may not even realize he's doing it) but will react to whatever he reads. Others read this as charm (or intimidation).

Talent for leadership despite working more efficiently alone. Both his charisma and experience make people naturally turn to him, and a deep seated compulsion to meet others' expectations means he often does take the lead.

Relationships: Barbara is one of his best friends before anything else; Jason is his (the one he gave the mantle of Robin to, the person who first shifted his identity toward mentor/big brother); Tim is the first he got to mentor; Damian is the son-brother (the one he raised and dotes on)

Scorpio: (canon? inspiration) [I will die on this hill] charismatic, manipulative, deeply and darkly emotional (some may say broody), fiercely protective of loved ones to the point of avenging them, holds grudges probably longer than he should, will lash out when hurt but feel bad about it

Barbara

Used to dealing with men who have strong feelings about everything (i.e. Dick and Bruce) and not being taken seriously (first year or so as Batgirl, then later dealing with people's perceptions of her while disabled) so nothing phases her. Still, she has some insecurities, which she overcomes with sheer force of will that projects strength. Ultimately, she'd rather suffer in silence.

Doesn't completely agree with all of Bruce's ideologies (leading to some friction between her and Dick), especially around killing since her father's a cop. But they align enough to be allies. She respects Bruce and believes in Batman.

Aquarius: (inspiration) Follows her own inner compass, pulls away the more someone tries to control her, enjoys engaging in mental exercises

Jason

As Robin, he was constantly caught in the tension of living up to Dick's example and wanting to be considered his own person. He always treated Robin with reverence and tried to do everything by the book. His own trauma and Bruce's guilt have convinced them both that Jason was a "problem" – he wasn't. He took school and his material comforts seriously because he never had them, so he was a tidy kid and a great student. Critical thinking skills that he honed from reading classic lit.

As Red Hood, he's now torn between living his own life/principles and begrudgingly wanting to regain Bruce's trust/faith if not his love. (He's never lost Bruce's love, but he has yet to accept this.)

When he came back to Gotham, he was pissed that his death seemed to change nothing: Joker was still alive, Batman had a new Robin, and crime was still everywhere. He took matters into his own hands. He still believes his way is better than Bruce's but recognizes that it's futile to pursue his vision with the Batfam still around. If he thinks he can get away with it, he'll kill someone he thinks deserves to be killed (e.g. someone who hurts children, sexual assault perp)

Leo: (canon) headstrong, charismatic leader who attracts people to him even if he doesn't try/want to/understand why, can be insecure about why people like him (are they just using him/wanting something from him, or so they genuinely like him?), protective of those closest to him, he'll talk a lot of shit but it actually takes a lot to provoke him to act, but when he does it's vicious and you'll feel like you deserved it

(Additional context)

Tim

Burnt out gifted kid who was adultified as a teenager because he had to basically raise an adult (i.e. help piece together again Bruce's mental health). Middle kid syndrome – used to being ignored and uses it to his advantage. Often manipulates (or tries to) the others to enact some plan. Pretty shameless

Knows a lot of random stuff because it's helpful for a case but kinda clueless about anything else, great at deductive reasoning. Lives to terrorize Dick (sometimes) and Jason (always), while genuinely trying to be a good big brother to Damian and Duke.

I usually envision Tim as middle/upper class east/southeast Asian, which comes with a few features: private tutors, attending a private or magnet school, expected to go to college; additionally, some cultural practices that Tim doesn't take too seriously since his family is multi-gen American. He def has a jade Buddha necklace somewhere at home.

Libra: (inspiration) rigid sense of justice and morality, good judge of character

Cassandra

Doesn't speak often, preferring to listen and use nonverbals. Has strong opinions about things. Protective of her adoptive family, enjoys participating in shenanigans if only because she's included.

I want to learn more about Cass and think harder about how I want to write her, doesn't stop me from trying.

Taurus: (inspiration) strong opinions that take a lot of energy to change, reliable, trustworthy, stoic

Steph

Keeps things lighthearted but doesn't forgive very easily. She and Bruce have a shaky relationship due to his (perceived) lack of trust in her but she keeps things positive due to her love and respect for Barbara, Cass, and Tim.

Extremely resourceful, solid investigative and deductive reasoning skills, dedicated to the mission, fiercely loyal but also independent.

It can't be overstated how much I respect Stephanie's ability to fill a role, on top of her creating her own.

Sagittarius: (inspiration) down for adventure, has her own set of principles and doesn't follow people who don't adhere to hers or at least have their own, impulsive, good with money, regrets nothing

Damian

Projects self confidence, which is mostly authentic, but he has some deep insecurities around living up to the expectations and examples of everyone who came before him. Extremely independent but protective of those who rely on him / he cares about.

Inevitably acts like a child when it comes to mature topics, feeling strong emotions, and wanting to form connections with others (particularly caretakers). Strict vegetarian due to his respect for life, was raised Muslim and maintains some of the cultural practices.

Leo: (canon) Very much an August Leo – somehow attracts others to him regardless of how he feels about it, no need for external validation (although it's nice to hear), respects competence

Duke

Simultaneously has a lot to prove and needs no one's approval. He cannot sit by when he has the power to do something. Exercises probably the most emotional intelligence and self awareness of the Batfam. Doesn't fully see himself as part of the Batfam, and definitely feels guilty about being "chosen" when his other WAR friends were discarded. He looks up to Tim, who was mostly Robin when Duke was a kid.

Def uses his Black card when it makes life easier or funnier for him. Similarly, he plays up being a metahuman to garner sympathy or whatever from the others. Deep down, he's insecure about his powers because he doesn't know many other folks with powers who can help him train.

Leo: (canon) charismatic leader who attracts people to him, independent, doesn't care about what people think of him because he knows himself, knows exactly how to be annoying

Miscellaneous

How the sibs see each other (post)

Post of the sibling relationships (link)

[101maverick]

Head cannons about Jason Todd and his relationship/feelings towards God/Catholicism after coming back from the dead? How does his religious angst impact his relationships (with the fam or a SO depending on what you want to write !) and how does he find peace for himself ?

A/n: ok tell me why while I was doing research for this I came upon tons of people outright saying they hate Christianity and are anti-Christian?? Seriously what is wrong with people nowadays, Christianity is the only religion people feel okay actively and openly hating on, but if you come across somebody saying they hate another religion, for example Islam, you'll find that person cancelled in a matter of minutes. Really sad stuff. Respect people's beliefs guys, I don't agree with Islam but you don't see me hating on it and attacking muslims on the internet. Anyways thank you so much for the ask Anon!! I love the originality of it, and it prompted me to do research on how Jason is portrayed in media.

——————————

I don't believe he looses his faith

He's angry and he's confused about why what happened to him happened, yes, but somebody raised catholic in the environment he was, where religion was one of the only things you could cling to, really makes you strong in your faith

especially someone like Jason

He was a very smart and curious kid, so I believe he asked a lot of questions to his pastor and really pondered the answers, which I think made him really understand his faith and made it all the more strong

I've seen that a lot of people leave the faith after something bad to them happens and then they see that God's "not real" because if God were real then He would've helped them

I don't believe this happens to Jason because he understands that even if God isn't responsible for the actions of people corrupted and lead by sin everything that happens and that He lets happen does for a reason

So I believe he'd try to understand what the reason for what happened to him was

And the thing with God is that you can't always understand why He led you to a certain point, but with Jason I think you could see it in an eventual reconciliation, or him saving some people from some very hopeless situations (for example trafficking)

I really like the "purpose" Jason discovers for being where he is in the fic "forgive us (as we forgive those)" (it's not exactly his purpose in the pic but this prompted it, plus it's a masterpiece so go read it!!)

Aka Jason helping Damian with all the trauma that comes with being forced/conditioned to kill

Also ik people might come at me for saying this but I believe Jason could do without the killing

I believe it can be part of his character at the start, but the thing is that for the believer sinning quite literally hurts (at least for me). There's this ache inside your chest and this guilt that just calls out to you and does not go away until you pray/confess. Hence why I believe that, even though he does believe that some of the deaths he caused were necessary, he goes on to try and stop killing, abandoning it as a method of justice

Due to this I believe his relationships with his family get better, though it's a long road to better them and some will always be strained

His relationship with Bruce remains strained for a long time, depending on wether or not Bruce finally gets over his emotional constipation and apologises for everything, including blaming him for his death and in general his treatment of Jason pre-Ethiopia (trying to use him as a substitute for Dick, comparing them constantly, making him robin in the first place and stuff like that). Only if Bruce apologises for all of that plus how he treated Jason after he came back do I see their relationship really improving and actually progressing from the one they had when Jason was Robin

I don't really know how his relationship with Dick is, but in general I think that after Jason stops killing they gradually come closer to each other. I can see Dick feeling guilty for not having been there for Jason when he was Robin and so for not being a brother to him. On the other hand I also see Jason acknowledging that Dick and Bruce have their own problems to resolve and they always did, so I see him being understanding toward that 20-year-old Dick

Jason's relationship with Tim I think would start to improve only after Jason shares his thoughts about the Titan's Tower attack, about his eventual remorse for what he did. Tim is very calculating and analytical, I see him being able to understand the extent of the pit rage and what it made Jason do. I also think it'd take some time for Tim to fully forgive him tho, depending on when this apology happens, because it's still a lot of trauma that he has to process.

Jason' relationship with Damian would flourish with Jason helping Damian, who deep down is really grateful for it but doesn't understand Jason's methods for getting over killing (aka praying and religion in general). I see a very beautiful dynamic blossoming between them, a kind of silent understanding and the knowledge that they have each other's backs

——————————

Hope you enjoyed!

[tenderhungering]

veep headcanons? :3

oh this will take a WHILE……i love veep so much. i’m about to wrap up season 6 right now ! i think i’ll do little headcannons / analysis for each character ! i might do a part 2 because i want to also do some more supporting characters. like you know damn well im gonna wanna write for catherine and marjorie as a whole,,,

Selina

named catherine “catherine” like her mother in order to be able to yell said name in anger the way she never could yell back at her mother

the severe mommy issues make her need every single one of her staff to be emotionally involved in her. if she isn’t the center of their life, she gets anxious about it, even angry. she needs to be validated

depends heavily on spellcheck,,, i just think she hates phones for some reason.

she can tell EXACTLY how someone is feeling by making it up in her head and believing it ❤️

got arrested once in her youth and it was wiped off the record. #supportwomen’swrongs

Amy

would do super super well taking up something that makes her adrenaline pump. they keep trying to get her to relax by making her get massages, meditate and be in quiet. she needs NOISE. she should be allowed to beat someone up at least once a day

had a little gray cat whenever she was younger. she likes them ! they’re similar to how she is whenever it comes to boundaries.

bisexual but she has a stressful job so she doesn’t have time to think about that rn

she would benefit from me in her life actually

actually really liked dan bc dan seems to personalize the relationship to the person (dan is so kind ❤️) so she was into him but suddenly got the ick.

Dan

trigger warning for SA and grooming: i think dan’s relationship with sex is so affected by the fact he slept with his teacher whenever he was younger in exchange for a good grade. it has made him view it was an exchange, a transactional affair. it’s why he’s so shit at intimacy, he doesn’t see to her anything out of it.

watches all the latest movies but it’s only because he keeps taking women out to go see them:

has a really sensitive stomach,,,,he says it’s something he ate but i feel like whenever he gets anxious it happens to

catholic guilt galore but he’s busy so he CANNOT get into it

he’s so the type of boyfriend who does baby talk and when he’s recorded he gets real mad about it. get that camera OUTTA here

Mike

he is like a baby duckling to me that’s why he wanted to raise them actually

has so many useless apps on his phone. why do you have a flashlight app you have a flashlight BUILT into the phone. its okay though bc he watches lot of youtube tutorials

probably wanted to vlog at some point but he got yelled at by selina in a clip so he stopped

the personality hire,,, everyone loves him but god he can be so bad at his job sometimes. everyone gets mad but never enough to fire him

because he started dating wendy, he started to dress up a little more ! ties and handkerchiefs match. i love you dad

Jonah

he so ran one of those private meme accounts whenever he was younger but he got so bad at everyone saying they were lame he just posted a screenshot that said SUCK MY DICK SON and blocked everyone

his incessant gross comments are a result of being around a bunch of rich white men that happen to be politicians that tend to laugh at them. he has daddy issues. he needs the validation

his little curls going missing are a result of him getting his hair straightened because he wanted to look more professional actually. he burnt his hands so he begged his mom to help him

gets really anxious about his health CONSTANTLY and has a will written out already because he’s scared one day it’ll (he doesn’t know what) catch up to him

Gary

he knows the lyrics to every new pop song ever. he loves it. he used to play Just Dance whenever he was in college or something i don’t know i feel like he might’ve even been in a club that requires that

has an extensive skin care routine. he puts on those fluffy headbands sometimes but stopped bc he realized it was to keep your hair dry and his is so short lmao

definitely has an undiagnosed anxiety disorder. he just pops a pill of whatever and hopes that it works (it doesn’t)

needs heavy validation from authority figures,,,like badly,,, i think that’s why he enjoys it so much whenever any of selina’s boyfriends acknowledge him as a person (or anyone gives him any importance)

he needs someone to tell him what to do because he is so lost on having any identify that isn’t directly tied to someone else ? he’s not even really sure what he himself likes anymore. uses “we” more than he uses “i”

[ill-try-to-do-book-reviews]

Before I begin my review, I want to issue several huge trigger warnings for: mentions of sexual assault, catholicism, religious guilt and trauma, religious zealots, and animals being in dangerous situations.

American Rapture

CJ Leede

Rating: 🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯 (5/5)

As of writing this, I have just now finished American Rapture. It is my first book by CJ Leedes, and one that I have never seen recommendee anywhere, always overshadowed by Maeve Fly, which is on my TBR next. This book, in my opinion, has earned itself a spot on every bleak/disturbing/horrifying/not-for-the-faint-of-heart horror novel must read list for the next several decades. I went into this completely blind aside from knowing it was about the end of the world, and the protagonist is a young Catholic girl. If you haven't read this book yet, I recommend you put this review down and go read it as blindly as I did. Come back after, and please let's discuss.

SUMMARY: A virus is spreading across America, transforming the infected and making them feral with lust. Sophie, a good Catholic girl, must traverse the hellscape of the midwest to try to find her family while the world around her burns. Along the way she discovers there are far worse fates than dying a virgin.

MY DETAILED REVIEW (SPOILER WARNING): Throughout my entire read, I found myself thinking of ways to open up my review about this book, searching for anything that would encapsulate the experience that reading it was. Nothing felt quite satisfactory; this book is so much more than I could ever possibly articulate.

I come from a background of Christian zelots myself. My grandmother is Catholic in all but name; she refuses to worship or acknowledge the Virgin Mary the way Catholics do, but every other belief of theirs is one she has. Sophie's deep, internalized guilt that follows her through a majority of the book is one I am all too familiar with, and it is a fantastic story of outgrowing and leaving behind the cultlike beliefs of the Catholic church.

The way that her beliefs colours her experience of the apocalypse is a unique one that I haven't ever seen before, and this book had me in a chokehold from start to finish. It did take me roughly a week to finish, though, because I had to take frequent breaks for my own health.

This novel is a nonstop rollercoaster of the worst, most bleak moments possible (Wyatt, with his throat cut open by "God's righteous soldiers", Barghest, burning to death to defend the owner he has known so little yet loves so much) with the most hopeful (Maro, finding a young girl alone in an apocalypse and helping her so much further than he was expected to, Sophie, finding Noah's origami crane and later realizing where he is). I always knew when something bad happened that something good was coming up next, but this also worked the other way around. The scene of Helen, Ben, and Sophie all watching Romeo and Juliet in the House on the Rock comes to mind. I had to take a break when it began mentioning Helen being asleep; I knew things were going to pick up again.

Wyatt's screams were a good red herring for that situation, to have us think it was a nightmare for it to later come out Helen is infected. The imagery evoked of Helen chasing Sophie through the world's most frightening and disorienting funhouse was fantastic, too.

The brutality portrayed by the Crusaders is a brutality I think most people are familiar with these days. It isn't always Catholics, but isn't it funny how it's always rooted in Christianity in some way, their hate? If my grandmother wasn't well into her seventies, I think she would be a Crusader in this situation, too.

And what a self-rightous, dick-sucking name to give yourself, too. Crusaders. What a cult.

Anyways, my review is very obviously coloured by my own religious trauma, but I do absolutely love American Rapture. It's top of my list to be bought now, and Maeve Fly is on my TBR, right next to American Gods, which my friend has been asking me to read.

Overall, if you still haven't read the book and want to now, after I've spoiled everything for you, it's still worth a read. Just be aware, it is a very, very heavy read.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

I’m absolutely feral for Jimmy could we have some more ftm/transmasc degradation, rough, sloppy yet absolutely sweet smutt😭

purr 😚😚

warning: homophobic/transphobic slurs, degradation/humiliation

anatomical terms: pussy, boobs, clit, dick, t-dick, hole (fuckin everything man we ball)

jimmy "irish catholic guilt" mcgill is closeted bisexual. 😌

he's very ashamed of his attraction to men. incredibly accepting of other people but ooh internalized homophobia the HOUSE!!!!! mainly because he had to hide it from his family so he repressed it and never let himself explore sexual intimacy with cis men.

and then you come along and you're like the perfect solution. in his cis male monkey brain he thinks "man, but... pussy??? pussy on man??? then it's not really gay right???" 😳😳😳 (it's gay, jimmy)

he's very sexually experienced when it comes to afabs, so it's a real confidence boost to know what he's doing

he's fascinated by the slight differences in your body, those little changes of transition that throw off what he's used to. if you have boobs he will honk them and suck on your nips. if you've had top surgery he'll still try to honk your chest and suck on your nips (whether you actually feel anything or not) either way he'll say something objectifying about you.

"i can't believe you'd wanna get rid of these. they're so good. can i have them when you're done with them?"

"jeez, those are some big scars. you must've had a huge rack, eh? had to move a heavy load?"

JIMMY MCGILL IS OBSESSED WITH T-DICKS THIS IS LAW!!! again a slight change from what he's used to. when he's getting your pants off he's expecting a tiny little clit that he'll have to search for and not a chode staring him in the face. your dick is tiny but it's the most dick he's ever had so ofc his instinct is to wrap his (embarrassing lack of) lips around it and start sucking.

irish catholic guilt + internalized homophobia = degrading you as a "weaker man" to make himself feel better. makes fun of your tiny dick, calls you slurs, ROUGH sex (biting, slapping, spanking, choking, hair pulling) the power imbalance is cathartic for him.

(while gagging you on his cock) "choke on it, faggot. god, you're pathetic. i know you can take more than that."

(while bending you over a table and fucking you from behind) "you see this is what an actual cock feels like." (he reaches down to stroke your dick) "this little thing? you seriously think it'll ever make anyone feel this good? it won't, will it? so just shut up and let me use this hole like a real man. i gotta say, even for a stupid tranny whore, you have the best pussy i've ever had. congratulations."

loves it sloppy bc the mess is even more humiliating. gagging you til you drown his cock in saliva, cumming on your face or in your mouth or inside, sucking your dick and fingering you until you squirt, using your squirt as lube to jerk himself off, SPITTING ON YOU >:3

may or may not cry afterwards bc he feels bad for hurting you. if he does you may need to comfort him and let him know he did a great job 🥺 cuddling is necessary

[mistress-of-vos]

brudick for the ask game? or aztim if you haven’t done them yet

I'm gonna do both one after another, I hope it's okay!

AzTim:

SHIP IT!!! 💕💕💕

1. What made you ship it?

I think I could talk so much about how I picture their relationship and why I think there are many homoerotic tones in their relationship but mostly I got obsessed with them due to Knightfall presenting an scenario where Tim is the only bat around who is concerned about Jean-Paul and who is facing the mess next to him. The fact that in a certain way it was Tim who *made* JP Batman got me whipped.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Their messy past! Knightfall is such a delicious event and I adore that JP and Tim have a lot of things only they know and only they lived. JP was the very first person to cover for Bruce as Batman, and Tim was barely begining as Robin. Tim WAS JP's Robin, and I don't think ppl talk enough about the feelings they would about it. Plus JP has a lot of catholic trauma and guilt which I think would make very hot if he dated an agnostic queer Tim.

Plus something something Batman/Robin rp

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

As with Ra'sTim, it's mostly about the characters themselves. My perception on Jean-Paul is that he is a complex person, with trauma and pain, and I picture JeanTim as a complicated situationship. As much as I love dark scenarios, I don't really lean into making it abuse for the sake of it. For me, it's a relationship that is born after years of yearning and messy feelings, longing and hidden desires.

BruDick:

Ship it! 🤭

Certainly not the ship I'm known for but I like it!

1. What made you ship it?

Probably how kind the fandom is; opposite to other Batship fandoms, BruDick fandom has shown to be extremely nice and respectful, something that encouraged me to interact a little with their content, and I loved it. Bruce and Dick might not be my favs but I adore their trope as a ship and I think they CANONICALLY have an homoerotic subtone. There's a reason Batman & Robin were used as gay code for so many years, and ir was due to Bruce and Dick and their marriage!

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Definitely the fandom. As I said, ppl on BruDick fandom are extremely nice. You can open a fic or fan comic and not be worried about unnecessary hate because they don't rely on that. In fact, many BruDick media treats other characters with kindness and respect as well: It's so comforting to see BruDick fandom being so respectful to Bruce's female love interests in canon, as sexism is sadly a problem in BL fandom. When I see BruDick, I don't have to swallow the bitterness of seeing sexist stuff, or hate towards other bat children.

Also BruDick introduced me to the idea of Tim being their bio son and that makes me feral 🙏

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Probably not? I usually agree with most of their depictions. I personally don't mind if they're messy tho, because I see characters as dolls. If anything my problem is that I'm very bad at writing Dick because he is an awfully human character (he's not as frozen into an archetype as Tim, Jean-Paul, Ra's, Jason, Kon, Lex) which makes him a headache for me because I struggle trying to imagine how he would feel like. Hence why I mostly do BruDick as background and not as main in my fics.

[lordwisteria]

Going off that “Jason Todd should be Catholic” post I reblogged....this is so ridiculously niche lol but I need to get it off my chest....Jason Todd is so Ronan Lynch coded

Traumatic reaction to violence that unexpectedly changed them forever, into darker and harder versions of themselves

Molten eyes and a smile made for war!!!

How do you live if you think you were maybe supposed to be dead?

How do you kill yourself again and again, even if it keeps you alive?

Just to get it out of the way yes Gansey died and came back but Jason and Gansey are like the least alike of anyone

Complicated relationship with a parent they once adored

Inexplicable magic that is difficult to explain and makes their lives harder (Like everything about Ronan/Jason coming back to life and the Pit)

General asshole who actually does care a lot

Cared the MOST about one person (Gansey) and slowly came to care about everyone else; fighting and clawing their way back into their own families

It is about RAGE and REGRET. FEAR and FORGIVENESS. It is BEING THE MONSTER AND ASKING FOR LOVE ANYWAY

Ok but. But but. Are there any other parallels? You could go the Lynch brothers route (Dick as Declan, Tim or Damian as Matthew, Bruce as a complicated and dead Niall whose obsessions killed him without considering what it would leave behind for his sons). But I think this really only considers the characters relationships with Jason, not who they are as a person. IF we are looking at who they are instead of their relationships (so yes this does not consider romantic/platonic/blahblah):

It would be easy to say Dick is Gansey. They have the same name, are ~leaders~, and are canonically the prettiest princess in any room. I get it and maybe in the Titans you'd be right, but here, Bruce is Gansey. He is the one with the quest! He is the one driving things forwards and bringing the others along. He's the one with the family name and the family wealth and the family home. He went through something traumatic as a child that irrevocably changed him, fueled his intense guilt and obsession. He brought the group together, and yet feels left behind by them. Someone who cares deeply about the people immediately around him, and yet will not stop pursuing his other goals even if it's hurting them or himself. Obsessed, I think, with proving that he deserves to be here.

Which means that Dick...is Adam Parrish. Like. The constant search for independence. The perfectionism. The bad relationship with his father that forced him to need to be his own man. (Sorry real Bruce but you sucked in batman #416) Loving someone so much and yet always thinking the worst of them. Refusing to be a burden and yet accepting any yoke that comes his way. The intensity of the performance, of pretending to be who you wish you were for the people you care about. Taking on responsibilities because there is literally no other choice, nothing else you could do. Picking the best of your options and knowing that none for them are to rest easy. Valuing freedom so much and giving up your literal body for the quest.

PLUS (less perfect but): Cass as Henry Cheng (and not just bc they are both asian do not look at me like that) Narrative outsider who was watching from afar and put themselves in the narrative. Was molded by shady parent's shady business practices. Was put in a situation as a child they should not have had to endure, which challenged their beliefs and shaped them anew. And maybe like, later Tim as Noah, a bright, fun, young kid on a skateboard who gets himself involved in something too big for him and is undeniably damaged by it. Tim isn't betrayed by someone the way Noah is, but he's kind of...betrayed by the narrative, in a way? Betrayed by the adventure that he thought he was getting. Too clever for his own good, but sometimes naive about people. Lowkey a mirror that lets people see whatever they want to see lol

(I don't see super clear parallels for anyone else lol but I did have a fun time with the thought of Damian as Blue (short/down to fight/has another family/environmentalist/kind of feels fundamentally alienated as someone who is not like everyone else/wears green))

[papirouge]

What’s are your views on “purity culture” among christians

I think it varies between denominations but the idea is still around mainly fundamentalists. It’s definitely important to teach women how important it is to be picky, believe in hypergamy, and ignore probably the 90% of scrotes that aren’t good people but I never really believed in flat out refusing to teach sex ed, what stds and stis are, what Plan B is, and how birth control and condoms work. Which seems like a lot of these more fundamentalists tend to do.

I had this friend who is divorced now. She grew up in that type of environment where they were very strict about her purity but ignored the boys virginity completely. Like she had two brothers who were total opposites. 1 was basically community dick and caught a disease and her parents didn’t care 💀 the other was an incel who was very anti social. And her parents were upset that they couldn’t marry him off because not even the desperate fundie girls wanted his violent outbursts. He’s still single too and approaching 40

She was married young to her ex and had no idea how sex even worked. She was only told to avoid it and it just scared her. So when she got married, she told me how her parents and church counselor were upset that she didnt turn into someone who liked sex immediately. Even kissing was new to her and she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t like it at all/avoided sleeping in the same as her husband and was told by them to suck it up when she expressed she had pain. When she got older she left that church and her husband but was ex communicated by her family for it.

Does that type of stuff happen in France?

Purity isn't much of a thing anywhere else in the world because as I said, most of USAmerican evangelicalism staples are rooted in culture not in Christianism. I've always found fascinating how France & its very liberal "sex culture" was compared to the US (age of consent is 15 years old, birth control & abortion is free, condoms are handed over in highschool, etc.) yet managed to have proportionally lower abortion rate than God fearing United States of America lol

Fundies family don't exist anywhere else in the world beside the USA anon so nope, we don't have this kind of messy affairs here. Catholicism is in a limbo here in France and real Catholic families are very rare. And even when they do, they don't hold such a spiritual grip on their members to guilt trip them into marrying someone. The only stories of people being excommunicated are bishops coming out as gay or being caught dating/having sex with women lol

The story of your divorced friend is very representative of the double standards of women virginity vs male virginity. Although it's quite normal to particularly warn off women about the consequences of sex because, unlike men, they are the ones who'll carry the baby so they have much more responsibility to deal with (as unfair it may sound). But it doesn't mean men virginity is any less relevant.

Many of women will never want a community d*ck, that's why her busted brother is still single at 40 (which is weird bc red pillers always said men got more value as they got older 🤔).

Fornicators are literally filled with demons and should be avoided at all costs.

And yet, I'm sure he's not shamed like his sister was to marry a man she was even attracted to... Her story is so sad.. but she's better off outside of this cult though. She's lucky she if she didn't have any child with him...

I think kids shouldn't be taught sex ed before middle school. I did in elementary school and it lowkey fucked me up. Even when I was 12-13 years old I had a male friend of my age who told me how many times a week he masturbated and it triggered me so bad lmao

Tbh there should be something progressive, like first learning about sexual organs, periods, how babies are made (12~13 years old), than at 15 about birth control(?) IDK the idea of teaching kids sex at school is weird to me but I think I would be even more traumatized if my mom taught me any of this because we NEVER talk about things like that lmaoo I guess it's important to build a trust relationship with your kid from start so that it's not awkward when you actually do? IDK I lowkey hate the sex talk and wish sex wasn't such a big deal in society so I'm probably not the best person to inquire about that lmaooo