#honestly the pouches are the worst thing

[jaysworlds]

i just made a really dumb mistake and lost everything :D

[laterkatersays]

4 Sided Dive | Episode 29 The Tower | Thru C3 E113

Question: Did Ashton find Jester’s relationship advice helpful?

Taliesin: (Emphatically) Yes.

Question: Why did he seek advice on Fearne at this time?

Taliesin: Honestly, because between guilt, which has been kind of festering forever in Ashton’s head, and also that they don’t really, like, they don’t hit on people normally. When they hook up with people, people hook up with them. They’re not really-

Marisha: The initiator.

Laura: I could see that

Taliesin: They’re not the initiator. They’re just willing to be cool, and then be nonchalant about it, and like, whatever. Like it’s not, there’s not a lot of- And like, not that this was commitment either, but I’m like, I don’t hit on people.

Marisha: Uh-huh.

Taliesin: And also, I feel really bad about a bunch of shit, which also then adds a bunch of like- I don’t want to be guilty and I don’t also want to be going, “Hey babe, it’s the end of the world, want to?” Like, no, no, no, no, no, I’m into this! It just happens to be the worst time that there is for this.

Laura: Has Ashton ever pined for someone before?

Taliesin: No, no.

Laura: Is Ashton pining for Fearne?

Taliesin: (Like when you’re trying to express something and your friend hasn’t quite understood) No…

Sam: What is it about her that turns him on most?

Taliesin: It’s honestly, it’s the- it’s a mirror of their own recklessness.

Sam: (Indicating Fearne’s supposed marsupial pouch)

Taliesin: Yeah, well, that, it’s the pouch too.

Taliesin: But no, it’s very rare for them to meet somebody who is just as irresponsible, who like has that same irresponsibility. And like, the way in his head that it pops up is, like, she really hits him in the best of the worst of him. Like, very much the you bring out the best of my worst. Which, the worst is never going away, and I kind of know that. So, I feel like my chaos is better around you, and I like, I’m not used to really liking people that way. Like, it’s always a little messy, ‘cause family is just designed to disappoint you and go badly. So yeah, it’s a whole-

Taliesin: (Speaking about Ashton specifically, I think) They’re not healthy! At all!

Marisha: No, you just said a lot of really sad things.

Taliesin: Oh they’re sad, they’re sad. Yeah, life has not been kind. They’re doing their best.

[baronessvonglitter]

if love be rough with you, be rough with love | chapter 15 | "mutually assured destruction"

Dave York x f!Reader

Word count: 5,707

Summary: A life-changing secret is unearthed, altering the directions of your life and Dave's.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, TW attempt at self-unaliving, angst, secrets revealed, gaslighting, talk of murder and paid assassination, obsessive!Dave, rough sex, hate sex, unprotected piv, revenge, if I missed anything please let me know!

Author's note: this turned into more than I initially thought, and took a lot out of me emotionally but I'm pleased with it and I hope you are too! Please do not read if you're not in a good headspace, there are very triggering scenarios in place for the sake of dramatic storytelling. For those battling real life demons, please click here for help 🫂

Series Masterlist

It's the day before you leave for London. A Friday.

Years from now you'll look back on this day and wonder how it started so normally, as if fate wasn't already hard at work against you.

You make breakfast for the family: pancakes, fresh fruit, scrambled eggs. The new au pair is coming on Monday and you want to do everything in your power to stay on the family's mind so that they'll want you back when you return from studying abroad, but in the back of your mind you know that won't be an issue.

Sneaking a glance at Dave at the table, you exchange a small, secret glance and a smile, but his eyes never leave you once you busy yourself with other tasks. You can feel his gaze on you, checking you out in your casual outfit of the day: jeans that show off your curves and a cropped long sleeve shirt that shows a sliver of midriff. You're going to miss choosing outfits that will keep you on his mind all day.

Later you get the girls bundled up for school, putting on their warm boots and winter coats. Alice has two different colored gloves on, Molly forgot her library book upstairs. Both girls want to wear their new scarves but they're fighting over the same one. You're already prepared, fixing the situations, showing Dave that you're maternal, giving him a glimpse of what your life together would look like.

You've already made plans to see each other over New Year's, see the sights together, make love in a different country. Honestly you don't think you'd be looking forward to London as much if there wasn't the promise of Dave joining you there, even if only for a little bit. You're learning to have your forever with him in a few stolen moments.

After running some last minute errands (Carol insisted that you spend this time on yourself and she could take care of anything extra) you have everything ready. You're packed, suitcases and passport on your bed.

Slipping into his home office, you dangle a thong around your finger, intending to leave it in his desk, a small memory of you, a promise of what's to come.

A drawer that's usually locked is left slightly open, teasing you, taunting you. You bite your lip. You've never been in Dave's office without him, and you recall what he'd told you:

"There are some other parts of my life, things I can't tell you yet. I know you'll understand when the time comes.."

You shake your head. It's just a drawer, you tell yourself. If Dave were here he'd call you a silly girl, then guide you away from his desk and press you to the wall, or the floor, or-

But you can't resist a peek.

And because of that your world changes.

The rest of your day is spent uncovering your lover's secrets, and the worst secret is saved for last.

In the back of the open drawer, tucked safely into a small black pouch: a class ring with your birthstone, and your gold baby bracelet, your name written in perfect cursive.

Dave returns after work, calling out to the house, knowing you're here somewhere because your car's here and Carol's isn't. It's too quiet. She probably has the girls with her.

"Sweetpea, you home?"

There's no answer, so he shrugs and heads to his office. intending on doing some work for awhile before bed. You'll show up eventually, looking for him, legs spread eagerly, mouth open voraciously, wearing some barely-there lingerie, tempting him while his family's out. He knows you by now, but that doesn't stop him from wanting you.

He knows something is wrong as soon as he sees his office door is cracked open. No one goes in there but him. He steps in to see his office has been searched. Papers are strewn on his desk, files scattered, drawers opened. He feels like he might have a heart attack.

There you are, in a chair in the corner of the room, watching him, waiting for him.

"You're a fucking murderer," you mutter in a half-sob, alerting him to your presence.

The moment those words leave your mouth you know it's a mistake. Dave approaches you, slowly and deliberately. You want to run for the door but you're not sure you can even move. Your heart feels like it will stop at any moment, if Dave doesn't stop it with his own hands.

In one swift movement he grabs you, forces you to the wall, his large hands pinning your shoulders. He's in a rage, seething with anger, hurt, and resentment. But he hides it well, towering over you. "What do you think you read, silly girl? You're not even completely sure what you saw," he motions behind him to his littered desk. "Do you want people to think you're crazy?"

The fear in your blood turns to outrage. You ignore his question and offer one of your own. "My father.. my own father?" Your voice wavers as you keep your cold gaze on him as you say your father's name for the first time in years. "Sound familiar? He should be. Five years ago you killed him."

There is the briefest flicker of surprise in Dave's eyes, soon replaced with approval, estimation even. "What makes you say that, sweetpea?" he asks, his voice honey-sweet.

Nausea threatens to make you keel over, but your righteous anger holds you through. "It was all over your fucking paperwork. And these," you say, opening your palm to show your jewelry he'd stolen that fateful night. He looks but makes no move to take them.

"For years the cops had us convinced it was a home invasion gone wrong.. but they were on your payroll, weren't they?"

"Where's your phone? Give it to me," he demands. When you don't oblige right away he grabs it from your back pocket, rifling through the photos section, checking to see what you've deleted, making sure you don't have anything incriminating waiting to be emailed.

So far he's in the clear and he tosses your phone to the chair.

"What are you going to do about it?" Dave asks, his voice low, cold, nearly a growl, and he looks at you as if you're a bug he's squashed under his shoe. "What are you going to do with the information you have? Because you can't tell anyone, do you understand that? Especially not the police. We both know they won't protect you." He soothes the effect of his words with a soft brush of his knuckles across your cheek. "If you try to spread this.. misinformation to anyone else, you'll disappear."

A shiver goes through you and you knock his hand away. "Why?? Why did you take him away from me? I needed him."

It's a new feeling for Dave. He's never had to deal with the fallout of his extracurricular activity.

"I was just doing my job," he answers, the catch-all phrase he never imagined he'd have to use. "But from everything you've told me about him, I rather think you'd be grateful to me, sweetpea."

You ignore this little quip, too angry to think of anything to say in this heated moment, when your brain is still swimming with mixed emotions. "He was just a name on your list? Is that what you're saying?" you ask coldly.

"Yes," he replies sharply. "He was not a person to me, okay? He was a target. He was a job."

His words are harsh, but they're the truth.

"Do you understand that? Do you understand now how I see people? How my world works? It's made up of people I am paid to kill. People who hire me to do the killing. People who betray others. It's not a game and it's certainly not personal." He takes a moment, looks squarely at you, measuring how you're taking this.

"Did you ever have any idea," you start slowly, "when you hired me to be your kids' nanny? Did you ever have any clue that I might have been his daughter? When you kissed me and fondled me and screwed me, did you ever wonder if maybe my last name was a coincidence?"

"Are you trying to make me feel guilty? If so, it's not working very well. I've learned how to separate myself from the job. Compartmentalization. It's the same thing I do when I'm fucking you and not thinking of my wife, or fucking my wife and not thinking of you. Do you understand that?"

Your hand flies across his face, landing a harsh slap, leaving a red mark that even you can feel the sting of.

His first instinct is anger, then there's a sudden flash of a smile across his face, lighting up his features as he soothes his cheek. "I have to admit, with that scrappy little attitude.. you're just like your father. Tenacious."

You're disgusted with yourself. You've given away your innocence to your father's murderer. You'd loved him and sinned with him, risking so much. You even wanted to marry him someday, in a stupid fantasy of yours that now just feels repugnant.

"Did he see you coming?" You whisper. "Or did you sneak up behind him like a coward when you killed him?"

Dave's smile fades. "I let him see me, and at that moment he knew he found his death," he recollects. "It's the most powerful feeling in the world.. watching the light fade in someone's eyes and knowing you're the cause of it. It's a little like playing god. It was no different with your father."

"And this information you have," he continues, "what exactly are you going to do with it? Because I refuse to have to kill you, sweetpea. It would hurt me too much to have to get rid of you for your curiosity. You opened up a Pandora's Box. Now what are you going to do with all the misery you've unleashed?"

You're calm. Your heartbeat is normal. Glancing out the window there's freshly fallen snow. Such a peaceful scene despite the awfulness playing out with you and the man you loved.

"Carol took the girls out to drive around and look at Christmas lights. They might be gone awhile."

You reach into your pocket and pull out a snub nose revolver, one you'd pilfered from Dave's desk earlier. You pull the hammer back and aim it at him. "I'm going to spare them having to hear their father die, a little gift I'm passing forward that you gave me years ago."

There's a flash of fear that flits across his face as you point the gun at him, which he quickly masks with cold indifference as he raises his hands in surrender, backing away slowly. "You had to have some idea.. all those nights waiting up for me, patching me up when I had a bloody lip or bruised knuckles? They're not always quick kills, sweetpea. Sometimes I have to use my fists."

You don't waver, still aiming the gun, the irony not lost on you that he'd been the one to teach you to shoot. The power you have over him right now is indescribable, with the agony of the revelation of Dave's shadow business lurking just beneath.

"You had to know," he repeats. "Yet you still decided to pursue me, to sleep with me, to fall in love with me." He stares you down as you continue to aim. "Now.. do you think you have it in you to kill me? Because revenge, my silly girl, is not really your style."

His words wound you. Yes, deep down you always knew. You just never put your father's death into the equation.

"You're right," you admit. "I'm not a killer like you. But I'm just as bad as you are."

Despair and guilt rack your body. There's no way out. You'd been prepared to shoot Dave, maybe even kill him as revenge for your dad, but in this moment you have a sudden change of heart.

"You don't have to worry about me telling anyone. I'll take it to my grave."

You aim the revolver at yourself, just under your chin, cold metal against soft, warm skin. "I still love you, Dave."

Click.

You open your eyes and fall to your knees, gasping as you drop the gun. It wasn't loaded. A blinding wave of relief and anguish courses through you as you begin to sob, your entire body shaking.

He walks to you, picking up the gun and opening the chamber. Empty. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to have a loaded gun in my own home, sweetpea? I have children, for Christ's sake." He shakes his head, putting the gun away. "I thought you'd be more clever than that, especially after all I've taught you." He sighs, looking more disappointed than distressed over your attempt. While you're on the ground, hugging your knees to your chest, shivering, he quietly tidies up his desk, putting everything back where it belongs, all his secrets stored away. He locks the drawer with a definitive click.

"You do it," you weep as he kneels next to you, giving you a tissue. "You killed him, now kill me. It would be poetic." You meet his eyes, seeing nothing but coldness in them, knowing that was all there was this whole time. "There's nothing I want in this life anymore."

Dave hugs you, and despite the hatred you feel for him, despite the maelstrom of emotions you find yourself in, you cry on his shoulder as he kisses your hair.

When you've finally cried yourself out, he helps you to your feet. "I'm going to take you for a drive. We need to talk."

In your emotional state you go along with whatever he wants. You're like a zombie, your body functioning but your brain clouded with misery.

You both get in his car, but you don't bother to put your seat belt on.

"Do you trust me?" he asks as you head out on the road.

"That's a funny question," you say in monotone, turning your head to look at him. "I don't know if I do. I shouldn't."

"Here's the thing." He clears his throat, makes himself comfortable for the drive. "I think you do. I know you always have. You shouldn't but you did. You still do. You trusted me enough to be completely vulnerable before me. You trusted me when you slept with me, each and every time. You trusted me when you told me about your awful history with your father. Trust takes guts."

You groan as he speaks about your intimate times together, numerous times, scandalous situations. You'd given your body and your heart.. to a married man.. to your father's killer.

"That trust is gone," you tell him.

Dave sighs, continuing to drive. After almost forty-five minutes he pulls over to the side of the road. You're in the middle of nowhere, far from anyone or anything. He gets out and helps you out of the passenger seat. Taking a tentative look around you see barely lit forest on the roadside, lit by a scattered amount of street lights. The snow has stopped for now, and a chilling wind howls through the desolate night.

Together you walk into the darkness. You fully believe he's brought you here to kill you, to silence you from spilling his secrets. And you feel only the slightest anxiety at this thought.

He leads you up a small path, thick forest on either side of you. Eventually you arrive at the edge of a cliff. The wind roars in your ears.

"What are we doing here?" you shout. It's almost too dark to see him.

He removes his jacket and puts it on you, shivering in your same clothes from this morning, only a denim jacket over them. It's warm from his body heat and smells faintly of his cologne. "Tell me why we're out here," you insist.

Dave looks out over the cliff, seemingly lost in thought. You're not even sure he's heard your demand.

"Did you know your father well, sweetpea?" he finally asks. "Did you spend a lot of time with him?"

It's like a stab to the chest, feeling your dad's loss all over again. "I thought I knew him well enough.. I think he loved me in his own way."

"He was corrupt, sweetpea. He had dealings with men much worse than me, men who would've hurt you and your family if given half the chance. A rival gang paid us to take him out." Dave goes quiet, dipping into that memory, perhaps wishing he could reverse things so you wouldn't be here, in the cold, with him. "I'm not the monster that you think I am. I'm human just like you."

"No, you're not human. Taking lives for money makes you less than that." Tears sting at your eyes, the bitter wind making them cold on your cheeks. You saw how sweet Dave could be with his children, how he gave off the impression of a loving husband even though you knew that particular part wasn't true. He had hidden depths, just like your father. His love for you was conditional, just like your father's.

You need your heart to stay hardened against him.

"I loved my father,” you continue. "I saw bad in him, just as I told you. But that didn't mean I wanted him dead."

"We're all just animals," Dave insists. "And even animals kill each other."

"You're the only animal here, David." You remove his jacket from you, symbolizing how you're done with him, preferring the bitter cold to the warm lies he's trying to give you. He gives a surprised grunt as you shove the jacket against his chest. "I've seen enough and heard enough. I'm walking home."

"You asked if I recognized you the day you came to interview for the position.. truth is, I did."

You turn at his revelation, stopping in your tracks but coming no closer to him.

He continues, "My team and I searched room to room, pilfering a few valuables to make it look like a real break-in. The last bedroom at the end of the hall was cracked open, with a pink light spilling through. When I walked in I could still smell your perfume in the air, something sweet like the kind a girl your age would wear. The clothes you tried on and discarded were strewn on your floral bedspread."

Now he has your attention, now he has you rapt, and as he describes that night you recall your room in that house, the perfume and the bedspread he's mentioned.

"I looked around, took my time, even though I was supposed to be quick," Dave admits. "I looked at the photos you kept by your bedside, removed the silk scarf draped over your lamp - that's a fire hazard, you silly girl." He smirks at you a moment, something akin to mirth in his dark eyes. "I saw the awards on your dresser, the photographs.. a little girl in a ballerina costume, that same girl growing up, attending summer camp, learning archery, and becoming a young woman, attending homecoming dances and learning how to drive.. I saw a piece of your life, sweetpea. And I was entranced."

Your mouth has gone dry. You know every one of those photos, have them collected safely in an album in storage somewhere.

"I didn't know your name, but the moment you came through my door, almost a thousand miles from your home, I was in awe. It had to be fate. You'd come to me, and despite my initial misgivings about having you so close, the possibility of you knowing how we were tied together was so minimal yet held such huge risk. There were times when I was sure you'd call me out for it, maybe blackmail me, so I kept my distance at first. But you were so obvious, sweetpea. You wear your heart on your sleeve, do you know that? It's adorable, especially that look you're wearing now."

You back away, forcing your body to move.

"That beautiful young woman with the pink room and cotton candy perfume ended up finding me, choosing me. I think all this time she's been looking for a replacement for her dead daddy."

"Stop," you beg. It sounds loud in your ears but comes out quietly from your lips.

"I love you," he says in earnest. "I don't care if the world burns. Everything is just a distraction if I can't have you."

A deep breath. "You should have pushed me over that cliff when you had the chance."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he approaches you with a calm demeanor. "I know I threatened to kill you, but that was said in anger. Don't you know how much you mean to me? Frankly I'm hurt by the fact you're even thinking I'd harm you."

You look at him squarely. "Oh, you're hurt?? Why don't we make it even and I take your family away from you?"

"You wouldn't." He holds you in his grasp, looking down on you with a smug expression.

"It would make us even, Dave." With a dark look in your eyes you run your hands along his chest. "I always thought you appreciated symmetry."

His countenance warms, his embrace loosened by your coquetry. "It's fucked up, but I can't help wanting you one last time," he says.

"You're right. It's fucked up."

"Let me take you to that hotel you like so much," he insists. "A proper sendoff before you leave the country. Because nothing is going to stop us, right? We can get past this little obstacle. It's just a tiny hurdle in our relationship."

Your lips curve into a smile as your blood boils. "That expensive hotel we went to, our very first night together? I don't think that's quite the aesthetic we're going for. Take me to the cheapest fucking place that's closest to us."

The motel room is small, smells faintly of cigarette smoke and cleaning product. But it has a bed, and that's all that counts.

Dave starts to unbuckle his belt and you watch, leaning against the dresser. "Remember that first night, when I bled? You told me it was rare to happen in this day and age. But it makes sense now. You shed my father's blood when you murdered him, and you shed mine when you took my innocence."

He's naked, waiting for you to also take off your clothes. "Did you regret giving yourself to me?" He pauses. "Do you hate me?"

"I'm not going to tell you," you smirk without any levity. "Isn't it more exciting to sleep with someone when you don't know how they feel about you?" However, seeing him sans clothing, a near rarity in your relationship, does something to you. You're lucky to be female and hide your arousal for the most part. You back Dave to the bed, making sure he's watching as you take off your clothes too.

His eyes are glued to you, cock already hard at the sight of your nakedness. You press him down to the bed, straddling his lap as you take him into you. Even you can't hide your need for him, the gasp of surprise as he fills you up completely.

You use him, that's the best way to put it. You care little for his kiss or his touch. You're simply taking your pleasure from him, riding him hard, the way he likes it, holding him so close you nearly smother him.

Yes, you love him, but that love has been poisoned by the truth of what he's done. There's no love in your actions, but there are tears in your eyes as you ride him, as if you'd fuck him to death if you could.

He can feel your pain.. the pain of all those secrets revealed tonight, the pain of having to deal with a man like him. And he can feel your anger, because for you, right now, there is nothing but revenge.

You feel it as Dave make himself a blank slate to take the brute force that is the only thing you can offer in this moment, so that you can emotionally bleed out your suffering and anger onto him.

You're riding him hard, taking your pleasure in a vicious way. "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," you moan.

It's a sound of desperation and release, and in a strange way it makes him want you even more. For you, this is revenge, but for him it's pleasure. He grabs you by the waist as you move on top of him, your nails dragging down his back, leaving marks that will be hard to explain later on. Your first instinct is to brush his hands off you, but you're so close to coming, and in that moment you don't care what Dave has done, or who he will hurt in the future. You just need him, and your heart allows a little bit of his love to pierce your armor.

With his hands on your waist, he pushes up and rolls you over. You move with him, teeth tugging on his bottom lip, inflicting more violence in your lovemaking because now.. everything is different. On top, looking you in the eyes.. You might hate him, but right now he doesn't care.

"There it is, there's that anger," he mutters. "Just let it all out, sweetpea. I know what you're feeling right now. I know exactly who I am and what I can be." He takes charge again, showing you that you're not the only one with anger inside of you. He enjoys the violence you're bringing to the bed, the violence that he deserves.

It's as if you're ready for his aggression, happy that he's fighting back. You're turning that pain to pleasure because otherwise the pain will disintegrate you.

You're still cursing him: "Bastard!" "Son of a bitch!" Meanwhile your body holds his close, accepting every forceful movement.

His eyes remain locked on yours the entire time. He doesn't let you escape his gaze. He wants you to see him, because now you can't hate him without hating yourself.

He's hurting you and you're enjoying it, just as it's always been. He kisses you forcefully, moving against you, as if you can't wait for the other to break.

Your bodies crash together savagely, both of you trading your pain and anguish. You dig your fingernails down his back once more as the first sweet, fluttery feelings give way to a strong, hedonistic wave of pleasure that threatens to engulf you. There's no holding back or hiding from it. All you can do is burn within it, let your climax conquer your senses as your cunt grips him more tightly than ever before.

Dave's eyes go wide and he lets out a small groan. He feels your grief and anger, and he loves it. He holds you close as you come together, holding you close as if he never wants to let go. You feel complete when he comes, the way he pushes deep and hard against you, as if imprinting himself in you.

Afterwards, you just want to sleep. All your emotions have come to a head and you're weak from feeling them. You feel like a shell of a person.

Still, he doesn't let you go. He lays on top of you, breathing hard, sweaty from the physical exertion, trying to catch his breath.

He knows that once this night is over he'll go back to being a monster, and you'll always be the girl he betrayed in the worst way.

In this small moment you remain connected, feeling Dave's body against yours as you have so many times before. The ghost of a smile graces your lips as you look at him above you, brushing a small, sweaty strand of hair away from his forehead.

He looks down at you, filled with mixed emotions. He doesn't want to move, but he knows he has to. He climbs off you and lays next to you, watching you. The red motel sign glows into the window of your room, lighting the bed, covering your bodies in a warm scarlet glow.

"What were my father's last words?" you ask in the quietude of the moment.

"He asked for mercy," Dave answers. "He said he had a daughter who needed him. And that if I let him live, he would never cause trouble again."

You try to calm your breathing. "And then what did you do?"

A pause. "I shot him in the head." His voice is like a stone.

You look at him, this man you loved without shame, without guilt. "And how much money did you receive for killing him? What was his life worth?"

"Fifty thousand dollars."

You close your eyes. "Thank you for your honesty."

He doesn't know how to respond. He wants to defend himself, he wants to apologize, he wants to ask your forgiveness. But all he can say is: "I love you."

You turn to him in the half-darkness of the seedy motel room. "I know."

It's early when you wake, body sore, heart broken. You shower, washing away Dave's scent, his sweat, his seed, but somehow he's still under your skin.

He's fast asleep and you don't wake him.

Quietly you order a ride share service to pick you up. There's still work to do.

The next stop is the York household. The girls are still asleep this Saturday morning. Carol's home. For the last time you use your house key.

It's warm and quiet as you walk down the hallway, trying not to make too much noise. You pass by the collage of family pictures bedecking the walls: Carol and Dave on their honeymoon in Paris the girls' baby pictures, piano recitals, family vacations to Disneyland and the Grand Canyon, pictures of the life you wanted but never got.

Carol's at the table drinking coffee. "Good morning," she says brightly. "Aren't you going to miss your flight?"

"I have time." You smile back but it doesn't reach your eyes. "We need to talk."

"Sure," she says agreeably, checking her phone before putting it down, likely waiting to hear back from her husband, who hasn't come home all night.

There were times when you avoided the truth because it would get you into trouble, but now you just want the truth to set you free. "There's something you should know about your husband."

Carol's eyes are wide, already imagining the worst. Trouble at work? Gambling debts? Did he force himself on you? "What is it?" she asks softly as her nerves jangle.

You take a quick look around at the place you've called home for awhile now. When your gaze lands back on Carol's, it's impossible to keep a smirk off your face.

"Dave and I have been having an affair. We've been sleeping together for the past few months."

There's a blankness in Carol's eyes, as if she's processing the information but it's not sticking. What you've said is so sudden that she can't fully believe it yet. "You're kidding," she whispers. "You're just kidding.. right?"

You shake your head. "No.. I can tell you about the birthmark on his upper right thigh, his bondage kink, and he makes this cute little sound right before he cums, like a tiny squeak or whimper."

You feel powerful telling Carol this. "We've fucked in almost every room in this house, including your bed, just last week."

Carol's body goes limp as she assaulted by the onslaught you've unleashed. The words are too much to bear. "You're lying.."

To add insult to injury you continue: "And it's not just about sex. He loves me."

You reach into your purse and pull out your phone, pressing a few buttons and sending Carol an email. "Here's further proof. You can watch it if you want, or don't. I don't care. The tape was my idea, and Dave was more than happy to oblige."

With shaky hands Carol opens the email on her phone, clicks on the video attachment.

What she sees breaks her heart like nothing ever has before. It's not just her husband cheating on her, it's the two of you sharing intimacy, bodies locked together in a passion she had no idea you'd felt for each other.

Now she knows you're not lying, and she can't bear the thought of all the love she's given Dave being betrayed like this. She looks at you with tears in her eyes, her body shaking as she tries to pull herself together. She refuses to be the weak wife who bawls over her husband's misconduct, who eats her own bitter, broken heart in front of the godforsaken Other Woman.

"Why?" she simply asks.

"Why?" you repeat. "Because sometimes, Carol, people come into our lives just to ruin it, to change it irreparably." In saying that, you're thinking of your father, a bullet through his brain, Dave on the other side, holding the smoking gun.

Upstairs you grab your luggage, coming down to see that Carol is still crying, still watching the video, the sounds of your wicked moans and Dave's sultry praise audible through her phone.

"A word to the wise," you leave her with parting words. "I'm not the first one Dave's cheated on you with. Odds are I won't be the last."

You leave your house key on the table in the front hall. On your way outside in the crisp morning air you feel inexplicably lighter. Grabbing your phone you text Dave one last time:

Mutally assured destruction 🖤

Getting back into your Lyft you glance back at the house and see the girls there, Alice and Molly, their faces pressed to the window like car window cling toys. You don't wave to them, even when they're trying to get your attention. You can't save them anymore than they can save you.

He destroyed your family, and now you're returning the favor.

<- prev chapter

next chapter ->

dividers by @firefly-graphics & @saradika-graphics

taglist: @untamedheart81 @guelyury @auteurdelabre @darkheartgatita (if I have forgotten anyone, or for a request to be tagged in future chapters, please inbox me)

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Gestation 1.5 Live Reactions

(This is me, writing reactions as I read, because why the fuck not. They're not complete, mature thoughts taken after I sit back and evaluate what I've read. Consider them as such)

Reaching inside the convex armor that covered my spine, I ran my fingers over the things I had buckled in there.  The EpiPens were meant to treat anaphylactic shock from allergic reactions to bee stings and the like, and likely wouldn’t do a thing to Lung, even if I could get close enough and find a point to inject.  Worst case scenario, the injections would supercharge his power by prompting a surge of whatever hormones or endorphins fueled his power.  Not useful, dangerous at best.  I had a pouch of chalk dust that was meant for climbers and gymnasts, I had seen it in the sports store when I was buying the lenses for my mask.  I had gloves and didn’t think I needed the dryness and extra traction, but I had gotten the idea that it could be useful to throw at an invisible enemy, and bought it on a whim.  In retrospect, it had been kind of a dumb purchase, since my power let me find foes like that with my bugs.  As a tool against Lung… I wasn’t sure if it would explode like regular dust could when exposed to flame, but fire didn’t hurt him anyways.  Scratch that option.

Of course, for all that Taylor is a planner, sometimes, she's just a person who makes mistakes, like with the chalk. Really no reason to buy it, but the thought occurs and it probably wasn't a huge issue.

Lung hauled himself over the edge of the roof.  I had him hurting… I just couldn’t do anything about it.  My bugs were officially useless, there was nothing left in my utility sheath, and I would hurt myself more than I hurt Lung if I attacked him.  Making a mental note to pick myself up a concealable knife or baton if I managed to live through this, I bolted for the fire escape.

Given how methodical Taylor's planning and prepwork was presented earlier, this chapter does a lot to show that... honestly, no, she really didn't actually plan things out as much as she thought. Which makes sense. It's early yet. Presumably she gets better.

“Muh… Motherfucker!”  Lung screamed. 

I mean, that is valid Lung, I'll give you that.

“Cock.  Sucker,” he growled in his heavily accented voice, his cussing interrupted by his panting for breath, “Move.  Give me something to aim for.”

Real "come out so I can kill you" energy here. Does that ever work?

With no warning, a massive shape landed atop Lung with an impact I could swear people heard at the other end of the street.  The size of a van, the ‘massive object’ was animal rather than vehicle, resembling a cross between a lizard and a tiger, with tangles of muscle and bone where it ought to have skin, scales or fur.  Lung was now on his knees, holding one of the beast’s sizable claws away from his face with his own clawed hand.

Enter Player 2: Bitch and her Dogs

I stood, aware I was shaking like a leaf.  I was so unsteady on my feet, from the mixed relief and fear, that I almost fell over again as two more impacts shook the roof. 

A nice touch, that not every author/story would include.

Two more creatures, similar to the first in texture, but slightly different in size and shape, had arrived on the rooftop.  These two each had a pair of riders.  I watched as the people slid off the backs of the animals.  There were two girls, a guy, and a fourth I identified as male only because of the height.  The tall one approached me, while the others hurried to the edge of the roof to watch Lung and the creature duke it out.

And thus come the Undersiders, changing history by deciding to help this random cape out.

“You really saved us a lot of trouble,” he told me.  His voice was deep, masculine, but muffled by the helmet he wore.  He was dressed entirely in black, a costume I realized was basically motorcycle leathers and a motorcycle helmet.  The only thing that made me think it was a costume was the visor of his helmet.  The full-face visor was sculpted to look like a stylized skull, and was as black as the rest of his costume, with only the faint highlights of reflected light on the surface to give a sense of what it was.  It was one of those costumes that people put together out of what they can scrounge up, and it wasn’t half bad if you didn’t look too close.  He reached out a hand towards me, and I leaned away, wary.

...how does one sculpt a visor?

Still, a complete, if a bit clinical, descriptor of Grue/Brian.

“Pepper spray, wasp and bee stings, fire ants and spider bites,” the second of the girls said, answering the question for me.  She was dressed in a skintight outfit that combined black with a pale shade of blue or purple – I couldn’t tell in the dark – and her dark blond hair was long and windblown.  The girl grinned as she added, “He’s not holding up too well.  Gonna feel a helluvalot worse tomorrow.”

Oh, Tattletale, obviously I only know you from discussion, excerpts and fanfic, but my urge to punch you remains, though there's nothing objectionable here.

Also, Tattletale's outfit does seem pretty stereotypical supervillain, tbh.

“Fuck you, Grue,” Regent retorted, with a chuckle and a tone of voice that made it clear he wasn’t really that offended.  He was wearing a white mask, not quite as decorative or made up as the ones I associated with the carnivals in Venice, but similar.  He’d placed a silver coronet around his short black curls, and wore a ruffled white shirt with skintight leggings tucked into knee-high boots.  The outfit was very renaissance faire.  He had a build that made me think more of a dancer than a bodybuilder.

Let's see if Alec is as much fun as he is in the fanfics :P But I do have to respect the theming for his outfit. Probably goes pretty hard to see it in person.

I stared at her.  My voice caught in my throat before I was able to get the words out, “I don’t… I haven’t picked one yet.”

Taylor, no! Don't let them label you with Skitter! NO! :P :rofl:

When I realized what had just happened, I could have cried.  It was easy enough to pin down Regent, Tattletale and Bitch as teenagers.  It wasn’t much of an intuitive leap to guess that Grue had been one too. The ‘children’ Lung had mentioned, the ones I had gone to so much effort to save tonight, were bad guys.  Not only that, but they had mistaken me for one, too.

I mean.... Ooof. She put her whole self, her entire hope, the only reason, or at least the main reason, she fought through the last few months, in becoming a hero. In saving lives, in beating villains... and here she is saving villains and getting mistaken as one. And then Armsmaster is about to make it worse.

I wonder if he'll read quite as much of a dick as the fandom seems to think he is.

[autisticlancemcclain]

The third time Allura clears her throat, Shiro nudges her with his elbow and raises an eyebrow.

“You good?”

Sighing, Allura shakes her head. The thing is that she is parched. All she can think about is a nice, cool water pouch. She hasn’t read a page in her book in who knows how long. She wants a drink.

But she is also comfortable. So, so comfortable. Shiro makes a very good pillow, and he has been very tolerant of her sprawling all over him and leeching his warmth. No part of her wants to move.

“I’m a little thirsty, is all.”

Shiro hums. “Honestly, I could go for a water pouch myself.”

Noooooooo.

Her warmth slab!

“Actually, on second thought, I’m fine —”

“Hey, hey, hold on,” Shiro says, chuckling. He shoots her a sly smile. “I don’t really want to get up, either.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” She settles back under Shiro’s arm, pulling the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands. She’s thirsty, yeah, but is it really worth waking down the cold metal hallways?

No.

Well, at least not yet. She’s well on the road to dying of thirst, but maybe curled up and comfy isn’t the worst way to go. She’ll see how she feels.

“Hey, hold on,” Shiro says. His smile only turns into more of a smirk. “I didn’t say I was giving up on the water quest. I could go for a snack, as well.”

Allura squints at him. “Are humans capable of telekinesis, or…?”

“Just play along.” He clears his throat quietly, then speaks just a little bit louder than he was before. “No, humans can’t do telekinesis. There’s not much we can do, really.”

There’s a brief pause — how is Allura meant to play along? What game is Shiro playing? — and then, every so slowly, she sees Pidge and Lance set down their controllers, and their video game pauses.

All of a sudden, it dawns on her.

“Oh, is that so?” she says, barely holding back her laughter. “I would think your species would at least have some skill, to have survived at all in your death planet. Have you not even strength to protect yourself? Hunk seems to fare well.”

Shiro’s shoulders shake ever so slightly, even though his expression remains impassive. “Hunk is an exception to the rule. The kid’s jacked. But even still, he can’t really hold a candle to you.”

Allura inclines her head. “That’s true.”

Pidge and Lance are no longer making any effort to hide their eavesdropping. It takes every ounce of Allura’s strength to keep her face as innocently inquisitive as she can make it.

“What skills do humans have, then, other than stubborn resilience?”

That is very true of humans, she’s noticed. If nothing else, they are more persistent and hopeful than any other being she has known. Even Keith, who is teased for being ‘emo and pessimistic’ (guess by whom) will easily get up and continue on after enough failures that any other species would cut their losses.

“We have a lot of that,” Shiro agrees, laughing softly. “That’s pretty much it, though.” Imperceptibly, almost faster than she can track, he glances at Lance and Pidge before looking back at her. The tiniest of smirks returns to his lips. “A few humans are decently fast — there’s one woman on Earth I’m thinking of specifically who could probably sprint to the kitchens and grab us a water pouch and be back in twenty ticks — but no one here is nearly that quick.”

“Hey!”

It’s Lance who finally cracks first, indignant hands on his hips, but he and Pidge both look at them crossly. Allura and Shiro both pretend to startle. “I’m plenty fast! I could do that, easy!”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Shiro says gently. “I’m sure you are, kiddo. But it’s just not possible.”

Allura is impressed. He’s managed to blend his tone into what must be the perfect mix of care and condensation — she can only imagine he’s done this dozens of times.

She quickly covers a laugh with a cough, not wanting to spoil their game.

Oh, poor Keith.

“It is so,” Pidge insists. She turns to Lance for confirmation. “We can get to the kitchen and back in twenty ticks, easy.”

Lance nods frantically. “Yeah!”

“I don’t know,” Allura says, forcing herself to frown. “I wouldn’t want for the two of you to over-exert yourselves on something so strenuous.”

Both Pidge and Lance look comically offended at the mere implication that a quick sprint to the kitchen would over-exert them.

Shiro is a genius. Truly.

“I could sprint to the kitchen and get you water and a snack in less than twenty ticks,” Lance boasts.

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“I can, too!” Pidge says.

Allura and Shiro exchange a look. His black eyes look just as mischievous as hers — it’s a wonder Lance and Pidge haven’t noticed.

“Well, I guess it can’t hurt to try,” Shiro says hesitantly. Allura nods.

Lance and Pidge both cheer, throwing down their controllers and scrambling to get in position by the common room door; crouched low with one leg extended and hands braced on the floor.

“Time us!” Pidge demands.

“Okay,” Shiro calls. “Three, two, one…go!”

Pidge and Lance shoot off immediately, rocketing down the hall at top speeds. As soon as they’ve turned the corner, Allura and Shiro look at each other and burst out laughing.

“That worked perfectly!” Shiro crows. “It never fails!”

Allura clutches her stomach, aching from her giggles. “They were so eager!”

Soon, though, they hear panting and pounding footsteps, and quickly try to rearrange themselves into some semblance of casualty. Allura has to wipe tears from her eyes and pray that her face is not as laughter-red as it feels.

“Ha!” Lance yells, then second he crosses the threshold. “How many ticks was that?”

Shiro pretends to check his watch, mouth dropping in a mask of shock as he does. “19 ticks! Wow!”

Pidge and Lance both cheer, tossing them their drinks and snacks and settling back down in front of their game.

“Told you,” Pidge says smugly.

“Mhm,” Shiro says, taking a massive bite of one of Hunk’s tarts. “You sure did.”

He winks at Allura. She winks right back.

Oh, how she loves having younger siblings.

[solar-halos]

hey guys i’m starting a new crochet series called “bastardized pompompurins.” yeah it’s where i show u the amount of times i’ve bastardized pompompurin

wait quick disclaimer that this is NOT me fishing for compliments. at the end of the day, u still clock that this is pompompurin, which is a win in my book. just as i think that this pieces are flawed i also think that they have some major cuteness factor. i just think it’s funny i have so much pompompurin crochet w at least one characteristic that makes it extremely cursed

ok that’s it let’s get into the series

first pompompurin attempt: bucket hat. honestly i know it doesn’t look like it but this was the best attempt i’ve ever done for the face details

he looks stupid as fuck 😭😭 also bedsheet reveal

2nd attempt: pompompurin keychain. someone said to split the yarn so the embroidery isn’t so thick and tbh yes that would have made it a million times better. for now though i have this

current pompompurin project just looks fucking sad. like emotionally sad for some reason i couldn’t figure out how to make him smirk this time. also has one eye missing bc it was giving less circle and more oval and i haven’t tackled making a new one yet. by far this one is my least fav bc the pouch portion is so big yet his face is so small. also its just so off center. but one thing i will say is that it’s not this fucking eyesore yellow irl, it’s just picking up that way on camera. despite being my newest pompom attempt i think it has to be the worst in terms of sewing everything together. like girl the hat…

[gallecrossing]

On the subject of hot weather, what's the weather like in Gallecross? If it ever gets wretchedly hot and humid, how do people like to stay cool?

Gallecross is a seaside city, so the weather can get quite warm in the summers and very cold during the worst of the winter squalls. The different boroughs are a bit more nuanced, the more built up areas get hotter and stay warmer but the areas by the water and the ones that are built more spread out cool down faster and stay cooler.

The hottest sections are the wall boroughs, since they're built inside the great walls. They get stuffy and a bit gross, so there are a lot of sections (especially up high to avoid compromising the point of the wall itself) that can fold open like giant windows to let air inside and through as a sort of ventilation measure. It also means that nice breezes don't get fully blocked by the walls during the hotter months. It's really quite a marvel of engineering.

The public parks are usually a good bet to cool off during a particularly warm day, they're shady and full of water features to keep things nice and cool the air. There's also beaches both on the oceanside areas and along a few streams and lakes within the walls. Some of the more affluent folks even have their own personal swimming pools, though space in the city is limited so that isn't too common. Not to mention selling ice creams and other cold treats becomes something of a summer past-time for a lot of restaurants and food vendors with access to small carts or other conveyances. It's great advertising when you can sell something to people whole boroughs away from your main business!

There are charms and enchantments to cool areas down, usually reserved for wealthy individuals or for businesses when they're cooling a whole house or other building, but smaller 'rechargable' cooling charms can be bought on a more personal level (most commonly set on small stones for the stability/sturdiness; they're referred to as chillstones because of this). Wear it on a piece of jewelry or carry it in a pouch or pocket, activate it and it cools you off for a short while with a certain number of activations per day before it needs to recharge for a set time via absorbing the ambient magical energy of the area. We have a good-will program that passes out reduced price (or even free depending on the situation) chillstones to any areas more affected by a heatwave, and to poorer areas and the areas where new arrivals to the city tend to congregate.

On a more personal level, Alkimos and I grew up in an area that was hot, but more dry than here. So it's not the heat that gets us, it's the damned humidity. Usually we stay indoors as much as possible; we've got an enchantment on our house that allows us to keep the humidity down. It's a life-saver honestly. You don't want to see Alkimos when his mane really frizzes up, it's already a fluffy mess half the time even without the humidity's help!

[rubistella]

"Hey remember when I made the comment about your hair? Yeaaah.... my bad. Think you could forgive me? Maybe I could make it up to you?"

@starsines || unprompted

Astarion was so absorbed in his own preening, evidently on a mission to ensure that his hair did not, in fact, resemble a spider’s nest during mating season, that it took him a moment to realise he’d been addressed. Or more precisely: apologised to.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s forgotten, honestly.” The vampire assured with the kind of dismissive wave that suggested he was far too preoccupied with his own vanity to hold any grudges. However, Astarion's tenor took a sly turn when he added, “But if you insist on making amends, I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if I were to get my hands on that artefact I saw you slipping in your pouch back in the crypt.”

Judging by the arcane emanating from the thing, it was either a relic of power, or something he could peddle off for a fair price a couple of towns ahead.

[neuroglitch]

So I had the colonoscopy today. It was altogether very anticlimactic. Not only was the cleansing a walk in the park, the procedure itself was pretty gentle too. Getting the drop in my hand was honestly the worst part to me.

As far as their findings go, I have something called diverticulosis(?) which occasionally becomes diverticulitis(?). This phenomenon might be referred to as diverticular disease(?).

Physiologically diverticulosis is basically when small pouches, or sacs, form and push outward through weak spots in the wall of your colon. And then it can get inflamed and even infected and need antibiotics which is what happened when I got sent to the hospital.. and other complications... (?)

The people at the hospital were surprised saying how usually they only see this to this degree in people at least twice my age. So yay. My colon looks older than it is. Maybe it's the price I pay for my outwardly youthful appearance..

It's usually seen in older people who don't eat much fiber.. Since I'm not that old, and I eat normal amounts of fiber, the running theory is that it's caused by some level of chronic constipation. This is a suprise to me, who goes to the toilet with diarrhea at an average of 5 times a day. However, these are not in fact mutually exclusive items, as there can be obstructions further up in the system which cause only runny poop to be able to pass through.

I've been instructed to eat magnesium oxide every night for the rest of my life, which is a mild laxative. So I reeaaaally hope that their running theory is correct, in which case the laxative might ironically cause me to have less runny poop..

They said the diverticulosis can't have been there all along, it gets worse over time, and can be the cause of some of the more dramatic symptoms I'm having, but it has also come as a result of the ~weirdness~ of my gastro intestinal health since forever.

They didn't spell it out but I guess that in other words it's a complication of IBS....?

The funniest part of the thing was that, since I was awake they showed me the inside of my colon and explained about the issues and showed me the "sacs" etc. And then they were done so they started pulling out the thing. And I'm just dazedly casually looking at them racing out the colon. Until plop and then it's just like. My ass. On the big screen.

It was like funny in the way that surprises can be funny. I just. I was kinda drugged and I kinda forgot where the access point was... XD

[smokeys-house]

Howdy!! 17 or 25 from the oc ask game for Puukko perhaps?

Howdy hunsa! 💖

17. What's the worst thing you put your OC through story-wise?

I'm going to be a lil sneaky since there's a certain project I've been working on coming very soon and a sequel so I'll avoid spoiling too much... but there's a reason for the scar on her face, and it's not pretty. She's been through a lot during her time as a pirate, many wounds and heartache. Funniest answer I could give you though would be from a recent piece wherein she recounts having to eat boiled leather from pouches and a shoe to survive on a long and disastrous journey at sea.

25. Favorite thing about your OC?

Honestly there's hardly a thing about her I couldn't gush about. I'm obsessed. I could say a lot of things but I think my overall favorite is I'm very happy with her design, I came up with it all myself and I'm not really the creative design type, but it's simple, recognizable, effective and memorable. I tend to go overboard if you'll pardon the pun when it comes to design, and I think I did just enough this time. It makes my day so much brighter when I get a compliment on her appearance, especially when it's from an artist I'm commissioning or someone sending me fanart. Makes my heart smile

[katsushika-division]

“I spoke fire, laughed smoke, and madness spilled forth from my inspiration.”

Introduction

Akari Himura is the younger sister of Death Row Block’s third member Rintaro Himura and isn’t really known for anything besides being the younger sister of the worst terrorist in Japanese history. However, unbeknownst to anyone besides a few people, Akari is the criminal known as “Cinder” who has become a force to reckon with in Japan’s criminal underground.

Akari is a young girl of above-average height with a slim figure. She has dark red shoulder-length hair that she temporarily dyes black when she goes out as Cinder. She has sharp gold eyes with a blank look in them. She wears an orange spaghetti strap shirt with a black leather jacket over it. She also wears a pair of black shorts, a red belt that, similarly to her older brother, has a set of handcuffs acting as a buckle with chains hanging from the sides and a set of black tights underneath. On her feet are a set of black ankle boots. Her accessories include a black leather choker, silver dragon necklace, and a silver cuff bracelet on her left hand.

As Cinder, she wears a full-length body suit made out of a kevlar weave. The suit is black with dark red accents. Akari wears a black overcoat made out of similar material as her suit with a metal cuff at the end of each elbow-length sleeve. The hem ripped, extending down to her knees. On her hands, she wears a set of futuristic black gauntlets that extend halfway up her forearm. On her feet, Akari wears a set of black heavy-duty steel-toe boots. For accessories, Akari wears a black utility belt around her waist and a matching combat pouch on her left leg, around her thigh. Finally, to complete her look, Akari wears a black high-tech gas mask on the bottom half of her face that glows a dark red.

Name Meanings

Himura (火村) - Fire Village 

Akari (明璃) - Bright Glass 

Aliases

“Cinder”

“Younger Sister of the High-Rise Bomber”

Kari-chan - Touya 

Devilspawn, Unnatural, Freak, etc. - Various Foster Parents 

Biographical Info

Gender - Female

Age - 15

Birthday - November 9th 

Ethnicity - Japanese

Hair Color - Dark Red / Black (Dyed) 

Eye Color - Gold 

Height - 175cm / 5’9 

Weight - 120lbs / 54kg

Star Sign - Scorpio 

Piercings - Lobes, Double Helix 

Markings - Burn scars across her back, collarbone, and upper arms, Lacerations across the back of her legs 

Family 

Father (Deceased)

Mother 

Older Half-Brother

Voiced By - Nanami Urara (Rapping)

Personality

Akari is a genius, a prodigy, and could revolutionize the world with her inventions....if anyone knew that about her that is. Akari could indeed use her intelligence to help the world but honestly, she doesn't give a damn. She actively hides her intelligence from the public and appears to show little interest in matters that are going on around her. However, Akari is highly determined when she sets her mind to a task, often dealing with any problems presented to her efficiently and competently.

Akari is a person of few words and highly values her privacy and many people view her as a negative, pessimistic, and sarcastic individual. Akari is also very apathetic and easily bored to an unhealthy and abnormal degree. Her troubled upbringing appears to have made her have a hard time actively expressing herself. Despite this, Akari is fiercely loyal and protective of the few people she cares about.

Whenever she’s out as Cinder, Akari is cunning, extremely manipulative, violent, and cruel. Destroying and wreaking havoc without a care in the world and using some of her crueler inventions on people. Many in the underworld fear her because she has no issue with killing if they get in her way. Another notable thing is her obsession with fire, and in fact, it seems to be far worse than Rintaro’s, although she has better control over it. 

Trivia

Akari has a vicious hatred of the foster care system. In no part due to when she was 8 years old her foster mother at the time attempted to drown her in the bathtub calling her nothing more than the devil's spawn. She retaliated by setting the house on fire with her foster mother trapped inside. 

She is best friends with Ryōhei Nakashima and frenemies with Nagisa Sano the younger brothers of Kobe's Ren Nakashima and Kaiji Sano respectively. They are one of the few besides her family that knows her identity.

She was given the offer to join Scorpion Den but to their surprise declined, stating "she already had a family" but is willing to join them in missions from time to time. 

An All Points Bulletin (APB) is currently out for her alter ego and is currently one of Chuohku’s most wanted criminals. 

She has a photographic memory and is able to recall things from when she was two. 

[kariachi]

Oh look, another Argit pokemon fic to go with the last one.

Plans so far are going without a hitch.

~~

Argit considered it a small boon that they weren’t unfamiliar with walking around cities and dealing with adults on their own. From a young age their mother had had use for them and their siblings, and when she didn’t it had never been uncommon for them to be left to their own devices. They’d known how to lie, cheat, and steal from what felt like birth. How to puppy eye to get what they needed, convince that all was well when the time called for it, make themself presentable.

Really, the biggest struggle when they finally reached a city they felt far enough out to set to work in was getting salandit back in it’s pokeball.

They understood why it wanted to be out, they really did. After all, the only ways they had to protect themselves were salandit, their quills, and a knife, of course the little pokemon, who had first met them in such… rough circumstances, would be wary of letting them wander around an unfamiliar place alone. Argit was still wary about wandering around an unfamiliar place alone. But they didn’t have a license, and if someone happened to find out they had a pokemon in hand anyway there was the risk people would look into it. Would figure out who they were, and worst of all try to ship them back.

They would fail- mudsdale couldn’t have dragged Argit back to that city- but it was better to hide pokemon and supplies away for a little while. Long enough to clean themselves up enough to not look like they’ve already been on the road a few days. Smooth out and spot clean their fur, swap on clean clothes from their pack. Enough to find the local licensing office and lie and charm their way into an exam appointment in a few days.

Living without shelter was rough, but they already had a few days of it under their belt, could steal enough money to top up their food and water, and anything was better than being back at the base. Out on the streets there was the chance somebody with bad intentions would find them and try to start something, back there it had been more a question of how long until they learned just how far any of their mother’s underlings would be allowed to go before she decided to have something done. Yes, most had been too scared of her to try, but most wasn’t all. And that was before having to deal with her directly. At least this way Argit could honestly tell themselves that this was temporary. That in a few days they would have a license and access to all the security and opportunities that gave them.

They’d been right too. What was there on a licensing exam that they hadn’t learned from the pouch? Pokemon related laws? Basics of typings and battling and the like? Pokemon care? Even the section on pokemon first aid was something they’d had no choice but to figure out younger than any school would have taught them. Of course they were going to pass, not with flying colors but securely enough for the proctor to smile and praise their knowledge. A few more lies so far as where they lived, just in case, and they’d had a license and the freedom to go grab salandit again.

With it comfortably back by their side, they could be more bold. Pawn off all the items they’d stolen and found to get nearly five hundred to work with. Not enough to live off of, but enough to buy a used pokenav and still hold them until Argit decided whether it would be better to get a bus ticket or carry on their escape on foot. One was faster and safer in general, the other with more chance to earn something to live off of and less of being seen by a grunt out on the job. More important in the moment, though, now they could simply flash their license and get a bed for however many days they needed, no questions asked. A safe place to rest, free of all charge, where they could take the time to get their license tied to their nav and fiddle with things until salandit’s pokeball registered under their name.

Having places and space to breath, even if just for a little while, was going to be vital going forward.

[swagging-back-to]

ok so ive been taking kava for a while and im very mixed tbh

im not even quite sure it's actually working. seems more like a placebo at times. im also taking karuna kava which is only 13g of kava root per pouch (most people take 20-40g per session.)

it's a very mild feeling, just kinda chill. it isn't a noticeable buzz or high like alcohol or weed and there's no physical sensations at the doses I've had so far (going to be having two pouches tonight tho).

the good thing is im not smoking as much while drinking it. im still smoking it but it's just a little bit vs constant

----

so far ive tried the coconut chai, morning jasmine, and spiced mint.

coconut chai had probably the best effects but the worst taste by a long shot. like literally had me gagging. it was also the first one i tried so you can see my dedication to actually getting rooted

morning jasmine has second best feeling and best taste. its still ass but its better than absolute ass. like i could tolerate it being in my mouth for more than a second.

spiced mint was pretty gross but not as bad as coconut chai. it's effects were mid and forgettable honestly.

ive also ordered the cacao vanilla, fiji apple, mulled peach which im excited to try. and also have the relaxed damu which i am not excited to try tbh which is why i haven't drank it yet lol

[gaysindistress]

I’ve never written mlm and this took forever please be kind 😅 @blibblubblub here is your long awaited request 💕

Things I think that would happen if you were in a relationship with Astarion - m!reader

1. Chaos is a given.

You are both the definition of chaos walking and it drives your companions crazy. Astarion is lock-picking every locked door while you’re going stealth mode as a bush just because you can. You two are honestly the perfect duo to get into some shit (or the worst depending on who you ask).

Allow me to set the scene; you’re at the Elfsong, everyone is drinking and having a great time. You and your lover boy have been in the background, plotting for the last hour about who to mess with simply because you can. Who is the sorry soul you’ve chosen?

Aradin.

Poor Aradin has done nothing but be the closest when the idea popped into your head. Everyone can practically hear the pirates of the Caribbean theme song playing as you go in for the kill. Aradin has no idea what’s going on when you start to argue loudly with Astarion, going on and on about how he’s always running off with the first person who flirts with him. Plopping yourself down next to him, you force Aradin to look at you as you demand that he takes your side because clearly your anger is justifed isn’t it?? Astarion is loudly sighing and rolling his eyes form behind the two of you.

“How dare you act like you’re the victim here?” You shout at him, gaining the attention of nearly every patron around. Astarion fiends disgust, pressing his hand to his chest and gasping before dropping his hand to Aradin’s shoulder.

“How dare you act like you’re not going to do the same thing with dear Aradin here?”

Meanwhile Aradin is shrinking into his seat in attempts to disappear altogether. Your argument becomes progressively more and more absurd before Shadowheart urges you to take it somewhere private. You finally do and everyone lets out a sigh of relief when they watch you two disappear up the stairs.

Unbeknownst to them, the moment you’re in your rooms your argument turns into childish giggles. Astarion pulls out the pouch of gold coins he lifted off of Aradin and you burst into a fit of laughter at the sight.

Absolute chaos I tell you.

2. He refuses to let you into Cazador’s dungeon.

You are the one person that he cares for and he can’t fathom allowing Cazador anywhere near you. Obviously he knows that you can hold your own but you’re his boyfriend. He’s going to do everything he can to protect you even if that means putting himself in harms way.

Of course he tries to attack Cazdor the moment you get close and gets himself tangled up in the ritual within a matter of seconds.

Blood, spells, and screams fly through the air as your party defeats the cruel vampire lord. Standing in the aftermath of the battle, astarion and you lock eyes from across the platform. He drops the dagger and stumbles towards you, collapsing into your safe arms as the sobs flow freely.

“You’re safe now,” you murmur while holding him securely against your chest, “you’re free now.”

3. All of your companions can’t stand your relationship.

It’s very clear early on that you two are in love to every one but you and Astarion. Half of the time you’re projecting your daydreams of Astarion in his underwear during dinner much to everyone’s disgust. Gale and Wyll have to politely ask you to stop and focus for it to go away. The other half Astarion is gazing at you with the most love sick look anyone has ever seen and sighing dreamingly.

When you finally do confess your feelings, you two are never far from each other. Astarion isn’t one for touch right away but that doesn’t mean he’s not right beside you. Usually Astarion sitting on a log with you sitting on the ground beside him, your head sometimes resting on his knee. It’s enough to feel close but not overwhelming. If he’s feeling really up to the challenge, he’ll play with your hair, carding his lithe fingers through the tousled strands.

The sharing of clothes happens quite often. Rogues typically aren’t big and strong so I feel like you’d be about the same size. It’s rather rare to see astarion in his own camp attire anymore or you in yours for that.

You guys i just realized that it’s pride month. Obviously I knew that but it’s pride month and I’m a fanfic writer. I would not be doing my duty as both a writer and a queer woman if I didn’t post any queer content

I’m working on a Karlach x f!reader list rn and was wondering if you guys would want more wlw and mlm fics???

[kaerran]

#3 (choice) Continuation

[spoilers for early bozja i guess, and this is a continuation of.... the time travel au i was writing last year]

Qahs'a breathes as slowly and quietly as he can as he watches a Garlean patrol march by. They're not paying that much attention, but he's very bad at being stealthy, and the absolute last thing he needs right now is to alert anyone to his existence. He's honestly not sure if there's any other Miqo'te within a hundred malms, and it would probably be a major warning sign if one did show up at random, trying to sneak through back streets.

Gods, what he wouldn't do to have Yugiri's help right now. At least she was good at hiding from Garlean patrols.

Still, he could trust the Echo to usually not lead him directly into trouble, unless he really needed to, so he felt somewhat confident when he darted out after the footsteps had faded away.

He might not know where he was going, due to how absolutely different the city is from the blasted ruin he's actually visited, but he's fairly confident that the building he's reached is the one that he's looking for.

The labs are quiet and dark as he walks. At this time of night, most of the researchers appear to be resting. Still, he can faintly hear the sound of raised voices, and that's the cue he follows through the building.

And then, suddenly, a gunshot.

Oh, Qahs'a realizes, feeling vaguely sick. Of course it'd be that night. Of course the Echo would lead him straight to the absolute worst time.

The plan was to let Cid defect on his own. He was not going to change that. No matter how awful it felt. Biggs and Wedge deserved their future as well. So he was stuck waiting in a side room until he heard someone stumble away and could finally act.

Midas looks… pretty much the same as he'd appeared in Cid's memory. Qahs'a isn't sure why he was expecting otherwise. Probably because of the extremely weird Galvus thing that followed, actually. He's muttering to himself as he leans over a bunch of screens, but… Qahs'a is pretty sure that things won't end well if he realizes Qahs'a is there.

So he casts a sleep spell on him.

Midas slumps in place, and something from the screen he's fallen against starts making angry noises. Okay. Step one complete. Now what?

The screen makes angrier noises.

It dawns on Qahs'a that he doesn't actually have a clue what the facility does, besides… explode an entire city within the next, what, month? Week? He probably should've asked more questions about the Bozja Incident at some point before he got flung back in time and decided to try to undo it, but… Well, too late now.

He digs around in his pouches until he finds some spare fabric to tie Midas up with. And gag him. Hopefully Bahamut won't do… too much… He can handle Midas, he handled both Bahamut-possessed-Nael and Louisoix-Phoenix and the primal on a smaller level than it is now, but that was after Bahamut got depowered. Okay fine, he'll just hope that whatever bond he has to the dragons through Midgardsormr will stall Bahamut.

Okay.

Deal with the angry screen.

Qahs'a has absolutely no idea what any of the screens are for. However, there is a convenient red button. That the Echo really likes the look of.

Well. It's probably not going to blow up the city. He just has to hope Cid is safely out.

He presses the button, picks the unconscious Garlean up, and runs.

He's a couple of streets away when the lab makes a weird thump noise and collapses in on itself.

Okay. That's… step two? and three? complete?? Now he has to somehow get Midas back to Eorzea without triggering Bahamut to do anything and also not kill the man. …he probably could kill him, but he's going to do his very best to try to untemper him and see what he can do when not under the thumb of a primal. If he's willing to do anything. If not, Qahs'a is willing to shove him off the edge of Idyllshire. Sharlayan. …whatever.

[after this, in the original plotting, qahs'a was going to get stopped by a member of the bozjan resistance. when i was first plotting this au it was oh… 5.4? and i absolutely could not complete even the first zone of bozja, so a plot point was bozjans going WHY do you have one of THOSE weapons, without having any… real concept of what might be going on with said weapons (it turned out: not a lot). since qahs'a's weapon is now absolutely NOT from bozja (it would probably be… moonward…. or possibly current relic idk i'm not sure where they're all from, timeline-wise. 6.4 would be the most sensical because at least pandae's wrapped up or maybe the future 6.5 so void is ALSO wrapped up notthatiknowhowthat'llgo. and rapier's also glammed to hailstorm to match alisaie ANYWAY, and the spear is glammed to gae bolga and...) that changes the dynamic a wee tad. so now.... congrats qahs'a you're going to escape completely free of suspicion and also not having any contact at all! bozja will just never know the explosion they dodged. probably have to deal with fallout from the research lab hitting apparently a self destruct but uhhhhh idk if it'll ever come up but my original thought was that somehow it became clear to garlemald that midas went completely nuts, tried to kill his own son (as evidenced by cid fleeing the city while bleeding) and then apparently hit the self destruct himself. originally the bozjan resistance helped set that up but now we can just claim it had something to do with those screens midas fell on. clearly he was on speakerphone the entire time. oops just hit the force delete for all backups of all research isn't that a shame. oops i guess midas was a traitor the entire time what a shame.]

[helpimstuckinthewashingmachine]

Tw for blood and acne mention but this is so gross yet fascinating to me 😭 I need to research it honestly but I have cystic acne, I'm going to be 20 this year and it's only just starting to clear up, and that's mostly because I have a consistent skincare routine. It's not the worst case in the world but it's left scarring across my face, arms, back etc and is regularly irritating and distracting. I am also in the process of self diagnosing with autism, though I am planning in future to get an official test and examination done in order to get educational and financial benefits while I'm a student and in order to understand myself better, and one of the stims I believe I have is skin picking (if its not a stim it's def an anxiety thing to relieve tension lol) so any bump or vaguely spot/blackhead like mark on my skin gets squeezed, picked at, or scratched until its red or bleeding and I do this subconsciously while I'm anxious or focusing on something else (lichrally just caught myself doing it while writing this post helpppp 😭). Sometimes I get a particularly large cystic spot that I pop without question, usually on my back/shoulders but also sometimes on my face, and usually after popping it it either goes away, scars, or forms a second smaller cyst that's just filled with blood. It's really gross but not painful or sensitive like the previous cyst and if I pop it, it will bleed then eventually heal and leave a darkish scar. I can't remember getting a large acne cyst on my right cheek anytime recently but I must have squeezed something in a way my skin wasn't happy with bc about a week ago I noticed one of these blood-filled cysts was forming. It was fairly deep under the skin but you could see a purplish shadow and it was slightly swollen. It became more swollen over a few days and when I poked it it felt squishy and I became convinced that if I left it it would not heal but fill up more and cause a huge lump to appear on my face. So I started picking at it by scratching the skin and gently squeezing and did this whenever I was distracted. About an hour ago(?) I peeled off some dry skin from around the area that had probably been loosened by the scratching and was watching tiktoks while picking, when I popped it. Literally was doing it so subconsciously that I was surprised by my hand being suddenly splattered with blood.. and the feeling of blood dripping down my face. I mean.... it was kinda satisfying but also gross as hell so I got a tissue and wiped up the blood, and tried to gently squeeze as much out as I could so it wouldn't actively bleed. I've now covered that tissue w my blood and put a plaster on my face but like... its so crazy to me that my body just does that. It just makes a pouch in my skin that it fills w the stuff that keeps me alive for seemingly no reason??? But anyways I'm now scared that I'm gonna have a dark scar abt 5mm wide in the middle of my cheek 😔 it will probably happen but luckily I've got a really good barrier repair cream (la Roche posay's cicaplast balm) that gets rid of acne scarring, and when I get payed i might get The Ordinary's rose hip oil which has retinol, which both repairs and brightens skin. I'd use vitamin C but it always has a really bad reaction with my skin, causing burning and breakouts so uhhhh yea. Anyways rant over gn <3