#hurt you. it is NOT always appropriate to do so. some people are too toxic to do that with and theyll just hurt you more. but sometimes

[1lovepeace]

I genuinely agree with your take. It's true that the trauma Rayla experienced doesn't excuse her actions, but it deeply explains the reasoning behind it. And in a way, you see Amaya soften up after seeing herself in Rayla in terms of being stoic, strong, and lonely in handing things alone. She's opened up more. Callum refuses to let Rayla push him away, that everything they do and face, they do it together, accepting his help and leaning on him for support. Little by little, she's growing and maturing, and I'm proud of her. There's still a long way to go for her, but she will get there.

With all the time that all four of Rayla's parents have spent self-reflecting, whether in the coins or while being alone and self-isolated from the community over the last two years, I sincerely hope that it can transition to all five of them reconciling, healing and repairing their broken, fractured family. No doubt that all 4 of her parents are incredibly scarred, haunted, devastated, and extremely hurt by the failures and negligence committed. Imagine the uncontrollable, horrifying nightmares they must be having of Rayla, being tormented by her memory every night. Their hurt, pain, heartbreak, emotional/psychological torture, and suffering are perhaps far worse than we imagined. I wouldn't even know where to begin with addressing Moonfam's family issues. But they deserve to have their family again after all they've been through.

But Rayla also has a right to feel and express her anger, resentment, disdain, animosity, and even her rage towards all four of her parents for what they put her through. Let her say what she needs to say. Let Rayla be angry and messy.

Seeing people crap on arc two Rayla genuinely makes me sad. I don't think many people truly realize the depth of Rayla's isolation. What happened to all the characters in arc one was horrible (I am not down playing that), Callum and Ezran lost their father, and Soren lost his family, but they all had Katolis to go back to. Their home. Rayla lost EVERYTHING. She lost the assassins who she grew up with and trained her, she lost her home, and worst of all she lost her parents. She lost Runaan and Ethari in one go, only months after her parents. And all she had to remember them by was what they taught her. And they taught her self sacrifice, they taught her to do questionable things in the name of protection and the greater good. Viren threatened everything she loved which WAS Callum and Ezran, and she thought he was still alive. She was stuck in fight or flight mode, she was bathed in trauma. And she had a point in TTM, everyone was just moving on, and didn't take or let her have anytime to truly grieve. She was in such a dark place in TTM and it influenced her decisions. She knows she did something wrong, she knows she hurt Callum. She hasn't brought herself to apologize yet, but why did we stop treating her as human? (Or elf, as it were)

Also hi, I've recently been liberated from TDP reddit

[cod-dump]

I tooooootally believe that Soap is deep in the closet while Ghost isn’t. Soap was raised 👏🏻 Catholic 👏🏻 and will never come out of the closet of his own volition. Simon knows that Johnny is both closeted and very much into him, and knows that he is the one that will have to start this conversation with Johnny. Ghost can’t take Soap’s staring and longing anymore. He convinces Soap that he doesn’t have to hide who he is, and if anyone gives him grief about it, they aren’t worth keeping in his life

Watching Soap deny who he’s attracted to was painful to watch. He knew Soap liked him. Gaz and Price did as well. And once Soap realized he liked Ghost he went out and got a girlfriend.

She was a nice girl, one of the recruits that worked along side them. It didn’t take her long to realize Soap didn’t actually like her the way she wanted him to so she left. Ghost noticed the subtle relief but Soap played it off like he was upset.

Ghost did try to something about the break-up. Something nice to let Soap know he was there for him—

Soap got really tense when Ghost had approached him. Two days had passed since the break-up and Ghost decided now would be an appropriate time since everyone in the base knew by this point.

“I heard about what happened with Lisa. If you need to talk about it, my door is always open.”

Soap made a face before straining a sad smile, “Thanks, bro.”

Ghost cringed when he said that. It didn’t sound natural at all coming out of Soap’s mouth. Ghost mentioned what Soap called him to Gaz and Gaz choked on air laughing.

“That is horrible!”

“He’s trying so hard to be something he’s not.”

Gaz stops laughing, “Can you blame him? Religious parents raised him believing ‘Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve’. Have you heard some of the horror stories from his childhood?”

Ghost sighs, “I suppose I don’t understand how he let’s his parents define who he is for him.”

“Not everyone has the same relationship with their parents. He constantly seeks their approval and doesn’t want to disappoint.”

“If it was my father I would’ve kissed a man right in front of him.”

Gaz snorts, “That you would. But Soap isn’t you.”

For the next several months Soap would pick up girlfriends. Some stuck out longer than others but eventually they all left. Soap picked up reputation of being a serial dater which deterred others from dating him. A recruit joked with him about it.

“You ran out of girls, might as well start dating some guys!”

The way Soap’s face twisted up in rage made Ghost wince. He almost thought he was going to punch the recruit but he restrained himself and instead stormed off. Ghost chose to follow him. Soap ended up outside, walking in no particular direction. He stopped after a bit.

“Why are you following me?”

Ghost decides to give Soap his space, “Thought you could use someone to talk to.”

“About what?”

“About why that bothered you.”

Soap turns around, “Why wouldn’t that bother me?! He said I should date guys!”

Ghost tilts his head, “What’s wrong with dating guys?”

Soap tenses noticeable. It wasn’t a secret that Ghost was gay, he didn’t bother to even try to hide it. He’s talked about past boyfriends, celebrity crushes.

“I…”

“What, Soap? Why do you have a problem with queer people?”

Soap stutters once more, not looking at Ghost. When it takes him too long to answer Ghost huffs.

“When you figure out that answer you know where to find me.”

Ghost leaves him there.

After a couple days Ghost realized Soap hasn’t said a word to him. He’s seen him but the man always made himself scarce when it seemed like he was going to have to interact with Ghost. Ghost tried to convince himself that it didn’t bother him but it did. Soap was his best friend who he felt free to joke with and relax around. The fact that his parents’ toxic mindset that they tried to give him got between them hurt.

Ghost stuck around Gaz, not bothering to go seek out Soap. He wasn’t going to force the man to be around him. He did his job without complaint but apparently someone did have a problem with his sharp remarks. Maybe he was more snappy than usual.

“Simon, have a seat.”

Price knew what was going on. Ghost told Gaz everything and Gaz told Price what Ghost told him.

“How have you been, son?”

Ghost sighs, “Peachy.”

Price didn’t get onto him for his snappy attitude. They talked for a bit, Price subtly hinting that Soap was trying to hype himself up for something but Ghost wasn’t really listening. He was staring at the picture on Price’s desk. It was of the team. Price looking proud as Gaz stood there with Price’s hat on top of his own hat, Ghost leering to the side… and Soap hanging off Ghost’s shoulder with a wide grin.

Price notices where he’s looking before sighing.

“Simon…”

Ghost blinks and looks at Price, “Sorry, sir. Did you say something?”

“Go get some rest, Simon. It’s late.”

Ghost leaves the office, checking his phone once he was in the hall. It wasn’t that late, but going to bed early didn’t sound bad. So he left for his room. He ran into Gaz on the way and the man changed his course to walk with Ghost.

“Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

“Already?”

Ghost grunts and keeps walking. Gaz kept pace with him, “Sure you don’t want to go outside for a bit? Watch the sunset?”

Ghost glares at Gaz, “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“You were already going to be outside to greet Nik coming back. Think he will be disappointed to not see you there.”

“Nik will be fine.”

Ghost reaches his room and Gaz steps in front of the door.

“He’ll be really upset! You’re his favorite!”

Ghost glares, “Price is his favorite.”

“Second favorite! Everyone knows that you’re on top!”

Ghost huffs, “Gaz. Move.”

Gaz blinks before stepping aside. Ghost opens his door when he feels a hand stick into his pocket. He turns in time to see Gaz taking off down the hall with his phone. Ghost blinks.

“KYLE GARRICK YOU COME BACK HERE!”

Gaz shrieks and takes a sharp turn, Ghost giving chase. Ghost follows the man throughout the whole base it feels like, taking turns and dodging through doors. He almost caught Gaz a couple times but Gaz always managed to slip away with a scream.

They made their way outside towards the air field. Ghost picks up speed, Gaz didn’t have any more walls to dive behind. Gaz just makes it to one of the smaller hangers when Ghost finally catches him, pinning him against the door.

“WAIT-“

Ghost growls, “Talk fast!”

“Go in the hanger please before you kill me!”

Ghost glares before stepping back and shoving Gaz over. He opens the hanger door and steps inside. The hanger had a plane in it but other than that was empty. Ghost looks back behind him at Gaz who encouraged him to keep going. Ghost sighs before continuing to walk into the hanger. He doesn’t know why but he looked under the plane to see if someone was on the other side.

There wasn’t.

“Gaz, why the hell-“

Ghost turns around and freezes when he sees Soap standing in the doorway.

“Hey, Ghost…”

Gaz puts Ghost’s phone on a table near the door, “I’m gone! See you guys later!”

Gaz takes off, leaving Ghost and Soap alone. Soap rubs his arm before sighing, avoiding Ghost’s gaze.

“I don’t have a problem with gay people.”

“Really? You avoiding me for two days says otherwise.”

“I had some thinking to do… I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”

Ghost watches Soap shift his weight, still avoiding eye contact. Ghost sighs, looking away from the man.

“Why a hanger?”

“More private.”

Ghost hums, “That it is.”

Soap looks up, “I really don’t have a problem with you or who you date. I-I envy you.”

“Envy me? Why the hell would you envy me?”

“You’re not afraid to be yourself. Never ashamed of loving who you want to love.”

The softness in Soap’s voice made Ghost’s heart ache, “Johnny…”

“My whole childhood was full of hate. Being taught to hate myself because I like boys instead of girls. I don’t even talk to my parents anymore and yet they still have control over me.”

Soap let’s out a heavy breath, “Even now I can’t be me.”

Ghost steps closer to the man, “Johnny, you can be yourself here. No one cares if you date men, women, whoever. Your parents have no say here.”

Soap looks up, mouth open like he wanted to say something but nothing would come out. Ghost didn’t push him, just reached over for his phone.

“No one is going to force you to make that decision to change. I’m not, Price isn’t—“

“I think… I’ve already made that decision.”

He looks up at Ghost, a small smile on his lips. Ghost pockets his phone, “Good.”

Wordlessly they walk out of the hanger. Shoulder to shoulder, both catching up on each other’s lives despite only being separated a couple days.

[cosmic-d1ce]

"how can you like sugarduo theyre so toxic" thats why i like them!!!! FML 🔛🔝 fuck everyone that doesnt like them!!!!

FML

Roier gets access to the Room

"He's family now, right? It's a family secret."

Cellbit's attempts to convince Forever have, so far, failed. Roier already knows. Roier has known for some time. He knows about Phil and he knows about what Forever really is.

"I'm just worried that he won't react as well as you guys did..."

Their reaction was insane, thinking back on it. They found out that Forever and Quackity had kidnapped Philza and they were all fine with it. They didn't even bat an eye. Mike had shrugged and said "amor é amor" with a laugh. They all laughed together. They knew what Forever was doing to their friend and that was fine.

It didn't matter. They watched Phil get destroyed and didn't care.

Now, it makes Cellbit feel a bit sick. He knows what love is now, thanks to Roier. It is not what Phil and Forever have.

What they have is sickening. Something depraved and cruel. Thinking about it too long makes Cellbit want to die. He knows he could have stopped it. He could have helped Phil but he didn't.

"I'll make sure it's okay. I can't keep something like this from my husband, Forever." Cellbit knows that will do something.

"Fine. If he freaks out though, it's on you." Forever huffs.

Roier is calmer than Cellbit had ever seen him. Cellbit walks into the dark room hesitantly. Forever stands close behind them. Cellbit can tell that he's on edge. He's worried.

"Morning, Phil." Cellbit says as the light flickers on. "Roier wanted to see you."

Phil casts a cautious glance between Roier and Forever, looking for confirmation.

In response, Forever speaks. "He's family now. He can see you if he likes." He shrugs despite his obvious nervousness.

Roier's communicator was left in the hall, in the drawer where Phil's stayed. His weapons, too. Forever is very aware that people would not be happy if they saw this. He knows that Roier probably isn't too fond of it. He knows he needs to be careful.

Cellbit can see the moment his husband spots the chain on Phil's ankle. It keeps him attatched to the bed. It's a punishment. Cellbit isn't sure what for, but he doesn't want to ask.

"I thought you hated me." Phil's voice is quiet. It always is. It's quiet and shaky and it breaks Cellbit's heart.

"Why would I- Oh! No, no! Fit and Wilbur are the only ones that actually hate you!" Roier laughs. "And some of the eggs but I don't!"

Cellbit's eye twitches. His husband is not the best at saying appropriate things. It's cute sometimes but here it is not.

Phil's voice cracks slightly, "Oh." he's on the verge of tears.

Forever notices not long after Cellbit does. He moves past Roier and Cellbit, walking over to Phil to kneel in front of him. He puts his hands on Phil's knees to comfort him.

"Don't cry, sweetheart! You know they hate you for a good reason, you shouldn't get so upset."

Cellbit watches Roier lose his mask. His expression changes to one of horror and confusion as he listens to Forever 'comfort' Phil.

"I kn-" A loud smack cuts Phil off.

"Also, I told you not to speak. Meu deus, por que você não ouve?"

Roier's hand trembles as he watches. Cellbit grabs a hold of him and pulls him a little closer. Roier calms himself quickly.

Forever turns to them with a bright smile. "Sorry about that, he's been awful recently! Had a little episode a few days ago, didn't you?" He looks back at Phil.

By 'episode' Forever means that Phil was starting to refuse his orders. He did it sometimes, despite everything.

Phil nods.

"There you go, well done, honey." Forever smiles, tail wagging in delight. He pats Phil on the head, ignoring the way Phil flinches away from his hand.

Cellbit hesitates before he speaks, "What did he do?"

"Screamed at me. I told him to go to bed and he screamed and cried and tried to hurt me, so, now he's here."

Cellbit knows there's more than that. He can see Phil's expression shift as Forever explains. He'll ask Phil later.

"You- you chain him up every time he does something bad?" Roier asks, a slight tremble to his voice.

"Not every time. Depends what he did. A while ago, he screamed at me and I just taped his mouth shut for a while."

Cellbit remembers that. Forever had triggered Phil on purpose, did something he knew would scare Phil into fight or flight. He had admitted a little while after to Pac that he just liked it when Phil was afraid. He said it was cute. Like a little bird.

"Punishment needs to fit the crime! He's chained up because he wouldn't come here when I told him too." Forever smiles.

"Ah... I see." Roier forces a smile in return, Forever doesn't seem to notice how strained it is.

"It's not so bad, he's okay with it! Aren't you, Phil?"

Phil nods quickly with a shaky smile. His eyes are still watering, tears threatening to spill over as he blinks.

Forever smiles back as his tail thwacks against the floor. He stands, using one hand to lift Phil's chin to make him keep eye contact. He gives him a kiss, although it's clear he doesn't want it. Phil doesn't fight but he's certainly not happy about what's being done. Forever pulls away with a smile and strokes Phil's hair again.

"Come on, we should let Phil rest, he's tired." Forever says as he starts to walk back to Cellbit and Roier.

Cellbit nods without question, although Roier is hesitant. Forever notices and stops in his tracks.

"What?" He asks, smile fading from his features as he stares at Roier.

"Nothing! Nothing! We should be going anyway! We have.... things... to do..." Roier trails off as he smiles nervously at Forever.

"Come on, Phil's tired. Let's go." Cellbit makes his tone stern as he pulls Roier slightly back towards the door.

"Yes, okay, great idea, as always, gatinho!"

Forever hums as Cellbit unlocks the door for Roier to step out. He's not happy about any of this.

[nonbinarymlm]

Let’s talk about venting and boundaries, especially in the context of social justice.

There’s a place for venting negative feelings about oppression. That venting doesn’t have to be 100% correct. It’s okay to be like “I hate straight/white/cis/male/etc people” on occasion when frustration with oppression is getting you down without specifying “not ALL x majority group”. Venting is going to be messy sometimes. That’s okay.

But if there are no boundaries or limits to your venting, THAT will be harmful to yourself, others, and any social movement you try to represent. Not every single place, time, and context is going to be an appropriate space for venting.

If you are running a social justice or minority focused space of any kind, you need to have clear guidelines around venting and when it is/isn’t appropriate with your space or your space will likely turn toxic and unhealthy. People can use supposed “venting” as a weapon to harm and silence others.

If a trans man is talking about his experience with oppression and someone responds with how he sucks because he’s a man and men suck? That’s not okay. That’s using the excuse of venting to silence a marginalized person discussing their oppression. The same is true for black, Asian, disabled, gay, mixed race, bi, ANY marginalized men. I use this as an example because women are numerically the largest oppressed group globally so it can often come up, but there’s many other examples. Venting about white people can even be used to silence women and LGBTQ+ people depending on the specific context (like complaining about “white girls” or “white gays” doing stereotypically feminine things that are entirely harmless).

Venting about “straight” or “het” people can be used to silence and exclude aro, ace, trans, intersex, and even bisexual people depending on context. It can also be used to dismiss and silence non-white people and discussions around interracial relationships. Venting about “cis” people can be used to silence and exclude intersex people. The diversity of the LBGTQ+ community can make this tactic all too common.

Even if you’re not trying to hurt someone, if you don’t have separate spaces or clear boundaries on your venting, then you will likely hurt someone. If a straight intersex person constantly hears about how straight people suck in LGBTQ+ spaces, they’re going to feel hurt and excluded even if that wasn’t the intent. If you expect queer men to be totally fine with having to randomly, arbitrarily hear how much they suck for being men in queer spaces, then you’re making queer spaces unsafe for queer men.

There can be vent spaces, vent blogs, personal spaces, etc that are there for venting about majority groups. It’s healthy for outlets for anger to exist. But if a social justice space expects some members to always be ready and willing to become an outlet for venting and anger with no boundaries or limits because those members have some kind of privileged identity, then that’s not healthy or reasonable. It’s not okay, and it often ignores intersectionality and the fact that people can embody marginalized and privileged identities at the same time.

TL;DR:

It’s time to get more nuanced about venting in social justice spaces. Yes, oppressed people need and deserve space for venting. No, it is not always reasonable, healthy, or okay to vent in every single context.

I know that there’s a lot of complexity to talk about here, but I think we need to talk about it. Because “venting” has become a tool for dismantling intersectionality, lateral oppression, and even plain old regular oppression in too many progressive spaces.

[earthstellar]

Just thinkin' about Nightshade: The Meaning of a Name

This started out as me thinking about how much I love their beast mode, and turned into thinking about their designation.

So, for those who might live in regions where Nightshade doesn't grow naturally, Nightshade is massively, massively poisonous.

So much so, that it's called Deadly Nightshade. In the UK, it's famous for being the plant that Macbeth probably used to poison Duncan's troops.

I always grew up hearing it called Belladonna, which is part of its Latin name, Atropa belladonna.

"Atropa" comes from "Atropos", the name of the Grecian Fate who severs the thread of life. (If you've seen the Disney Hercules movie, this is the Fate who cuts the thread with scissors.)

It has a beautiful purple and yellow flower, more reminiscent of Tarantulas' colours than Nightshade's.

It also features little black/dark purple berries.

Now, Nightshade is a great name for a bot that turns into an owl.

The name doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the plant.

However! I'm overthinking it anyway, so let's goooooo

Bad Implications!

What's super interesting is that Deadly Nightshade has some symbolic meanings in the UK/Europe; Namely, that Nightshade is one of the Devil's chosen plants, and that eating it (especially the berries) would bring Satan's wrath down upon the consumer as punishment.

It can represent danger, risk, betrayal, punishment, hopelessness, and sometimes even murder.

Plants with similarly mythologised toxic properties are Pennyroyal and Juniper-- Both of which can harm humans in various quantities.

(Interestingly, Pennyroyal is still sold in the UK as an insect repellent, and I even have some in my closet and drawers to repel moths-- But it is most famous as a risky historical abortifacient. I am usually asked for ID when I buy it in London Bridge Market, and they ask if you are familiar with it's use/inform you not to consume it when you buy it.

Juniper is most famous for being a common ingredient in sloe gin, but only in careful amounts. We've seen people in A&E come in with kidney pains from trying to make homemade gin, who ended up poisoning themselves by using the wrong type of juniper berry, or by concentrating it too much. Juniper was also considered a risky historical abortifacient.)

But in regards to Deadly Nightshade, a lot of people have hurt themselves trying to take advantage of its psychoactive properties-- Primarily in the form of the hyoscyamine and scopolamine (tropane alkaloids) found in the plant. However, the dosage is too finnicky, and it's way too easy for someone to poison themselves by accident. It's happened before. :( This plant is far too dangerous to use for these purposes. Do not consume!

But because of this connection with psychoactive properties, Deadly Nightshade is also sometimes symbolic of altered states of mind, having visions, or esoteric/magical thinking.

You can see this in a few fine arts works throughout history, various bits of folklore, and other historical media such as stage plays since audiences would be familiar with this plant as being a potential poison (thus making it a good choice for a playwright to work into a story).

Medical Applications!

The medication Atropine was first created via concentrated extracts derived from Deadly Nightshade. It has multiple medical applications, and can be concentrated from other members of the Nightshade family of plants, not just Belladonna.

Interestingly, although it can be poisonous on its own if someone decides to munch on the plant or its berries (a bad idea, do not eat any part of this plant ever), medically concentrated Atropine can be used in healthcare environments when administered appropriately to help address certain organophosphate poisonings by blocking muscarinic receptors by way of disrupting the neurotransmitter Acetylcholine.

Something that is sort of interesting is that historically, people used to put small amounts of liquid concentrated Deadly Nightshade into their eyes, as this resulted in very dilated pupils. This was considered a desirable cosmetic effect, hence the "Belladonna" part of the plant name-- It means "beautiful woman"! And Nightshade absolutely has large, round eyes with big pupils. (Do not put this shit in your eyes, it is a bad idea. Do not fuck with poisonous plants in general. Just need to be super clear on this!)

Again, that's an owlish trait, and it doesn't necessarily have to do with the plant. But I like that it could go either way.

I've also spotted Deadly Nightshade growing in overgrown cemeteries in the south of England, typically those that are near wooded/forested areas. So it's interesting that Nightshade got their alt-mode in a cemetery near a forest, since this plant is known to grow in woodlands.

But I wonder if Nightshade's name might have multiple implications; Especially considering their relationship with Tarantulas-- who we still haven't seen again, as of yet anyway-- it will be interesting to see how things play out.

Hopefully this is at least interesting trivia! :)

Also, Obvious PSA: Once again, don't eat any of the plants/flowers/berries mentioned here, you can die or suffer a surprisingly large amount of pain/potential organ damage. Either way, don't eat this stuff.

[chaifootsteps]

I hate feeling like there's no point in interacting with fandoms but fandoms have become so filled with anti-intellectualism and toxic positivity it's crazy. People always go on about how "people need to stop attacking others for liking things they don't!" And while that's obviously true, when are we going to talk about the other side of the coin? People getting harassed for expressing a negative opinion in their own space, using the appropriate tags and everything? There's no such a thing as actually analysizing a piece of media or having a mature discussion anymore, everything has to be a personal attack and reduced to petty insults. I get the world is going straight to the gutter and people are desperate for any sense of control, I even get that the school system has been failing to raise a next generation with critical thinking skills and media literacy, but for sucks sake they're just pixels and lines on a screen/page, they're not worth hurting real people over

I wish I had some assurance for you, but yeah, this is exactly how I feel too.

That said, I do think it's worth carving out your own little fandom niches and defending them with a flamethrower. It sets an example, but mostly I feel like if we don't, the weird little Twitter gremlins harassing people over pixels win.

[autolenaphilia]

"She leans forward, smiling gently, adopting the air of a concerned guidance counsellor. “Stef, if I may be blunt — and everyone around me is, constantly, so I believe I shall indulge — you are a woman. You have always been a woman, whatever your external appearance might suggest. You have, therefore, experienced masculinity, and particularly the kind of grasping, possessive, abusive masculinity that we as a society have decided is appropriate to teach our young men, as nothing but a curse, correct? An unpleasant and often entirely irrational system of behaviour to which you have been expected to conform, and uphold in others.”

“Um,” Stefan says, trying to control his reaction to being called a woman, to having his womanhood recognised so casually, acknowledged so completely. “Yes, I suppose.”

“Would you agree that your compliance with masculinity has been, shall we say, coerced? Not something you would have chosen for yourself?”

Stefan nods, and carefully avoids getting lost in memories.

“Then I suspect you will find it hard to believe how… seductive it can be,” Beatrice says. “Imagine that you are a boy. Masculinity, as expressed by the patriarchy, all the way from the repulsive man who currently occupies the office of the prime minister down to your peers at school, your family, and the men you see on the television, tells you what you are. It dictates your behaviour, lays out the rules around which you must structure your life. But in return it offers power. Power over other men, should you make yourself strong enough; power over women, almost by default. ‘You are strong,’ it whispers to you, as you grow taller than the girls at your school. ‘You are powerful,’ it tells you, as you get into your first fight. ‘You deserve her,’ it insists, as you look at a pretty woman at a bar or in the street. And, to those who will listen, it says, ‘Even if she refuses you, she is nonetheless yours. Take her!’” Stefan jumps a little when she raises her voice. “‘Take her and do with her what you will, for it is your right.’

“Most men, of course, are not so ruled by their desires that they will act on every impulse. And many men are capable of ignoring those messages entirely, filtering them, discovering a healthy masculinity inside the radioactive dust that infests our social atmosphere. But, as you have seen, there are men who are overwhelmed by these messages. Who are shaped by them so completely that there is practically nothing else left inside them. They are… broken people. Excellent vessels for the — oh, what did that absurd scientist with the honey fixation call it? — the meme of masculinity. The infectious idea that burrows into the brain and takes over.

“The problem for these men is that masculinity — toxic masculinity, if you will; violent, virulent masculinity — is a seductive lover but an abusive husband. Once you are in its grip, you can never be strong enough, never exercise enough power, never hurt enough people. You find yourself trapped between two destinies.

“Some of these broken men, they despise themselves. They victimise others because they are too weak not to, and they loathe their weakness. Many of them manage to put up a front — brusqueness; belligerence; humour — but the self-hatred eats away at them, and eventually they will be destroyed by it, consumed by the parasite.

“Others become nothing but the violence. They have contempt for their victims, and admire only strength and cruelty. They are, essentially, monsters."

Alyson Greaves - The Sisters of Dorley, Chapter 14: The Sense God Gave Her

[rotationalsymmetry]

Re: but what can I do?

I have come to the conclusion that most activism (or other "doing stuff") that comes from a sense of obligation is fundamentally toxic, and the healthiest forms of doing-stuff come from self-interest or something close to self-interest, like wanting people in your community to be OK.

People who want to "save" sex workers tend to get things horribly wrong, tend to have dramatically different goals from when sex workers themselves organize.

People who are doing things for others either go too far in and get burnt out, or (more often) don't go in far enough or pull out the moment things get messy.

Anyhow. So. If you want to "do something" appropriately and sustainably, don't start with your psychological need to feel like you're contributing. Start with what the need is and whether you can meet it. And start with yourself and go out.

Sometimes I get hungry or otherwise notice I haven't eaten in a while. When that happens and I eat, I am doing something to make my personal world better. (Ditto for chronic illness related self care, getting enough social interaction, getting enough rest, doing my PT so my back doesn't hurt when I wake up in the morning, etc.) Same for when I do a thing purely for pleasure. There's a need, or an opportunity for joy, can I meet it?

When I ask my partner how his day went, I am finding a need/opportunity for making his life better, and meeting it. Same for when I ask my mom how her golf game went. I don't care about golf, but she does and I care about her. (When I can ask about something I do care about, I am doing a thing for two people.)

When I pick up litter in my neighborhood, I am finding a need/opportunity for making my community's life better, and taking care of it. Ditto for contributing when someone says they need money, online or in person. Ditto for when I used to do Food Not Bombs and ride in Critical Mass. Ditto for when I'm able to get my act together enough to call a politician or send an email (not as often as I would like.)

For people who have had jobs, you know the work that needs to be done and the hours you're supposed to be working don't always line up nicely, it's the same for things you don't get paid for that need to be done. Sometimes there's nothing; sometimes there's more than you can do. It's not about whether you feel a need to contribute, it's about what's there.

And the thing is, what individual people need to take care of themseleves for themselves is more or less the same, but the bigger the group is the more likely people are to end up specializing and doing one or a few things a lot. Some people give blood as often as they can. Some pick up litter. Some do the jail support. Some do things that have a high risk of getting them arrested. Some are naturals at fundraising, or art or messaging, some can learn, some want nothing to do with that. What people are willing and able to do varies SO MUCH, which is fine because the things the world needs varies so much.

And this isn't expressly political, but there's always always always a need for caring and social labor. For someone to be the person who gets their friend group together. For someone to be the person who provides childcare so the moms can participate in the organizing meetings. For someone to be the person who makes sure the person with the broken leg is getting their groceries and the person with the chronic illness gets driven to their medical appointments. For someone to be the person who makes sure the old lady whose family all lives out of state (or who doesn't have a family, which is especially often the case with queer people) has someone to talk to. It's not less important just because people who aren't anarchists do it too. (It's not less impotent because it doesn't by itself challenge systems of oppression, for a few different reasons but in part because even in a perfect world that is work that needs to be done, and in part because improving the world isn't the only work that needs to be done, maintaining the world/the people in the world is work that needs to be done too.)

[skylitexo]

My life

So much time has gone. So many people have exited. Some for the best and some for the worst. Things come and go. I accept it... or trying too. My mental health is unusual. One thing I take pride in is being able to is working out consistently. Losing weight effectively.. I lost 40lbs. My goal is to hit 130. I am at 138. I am building muscle right now. I went through a period where I wasn’t necessarily living last fall. I barely ate and slept. I was so exhausted. I was trying to graduate as soon as I could. Taking 18 credit hours and an internship on top of it, but I graduated.. I wanted my mom to see it... but she didn’t. She died. Then, earlier that day before she passed my boyfriend, my love.... the one that I connected with so I thought spiritually.. cheated. Not surprised, but it’s okay. I understand. He wasn’t happy with himself. He was insecure and felt the need to be a piece of shit. What a nice touch on his end. Anyway, three days later Mom.. I gIraduated after you died. It was so hard to walk across the stage.. knowing I watched you die the way you did. It was so traumatizing. I have such bad PTSD. The way it came out of your mouth... your body... the fluids.. I don’t want to say because it will scare people away. Mom I miss you. I want to call you and tell you everything. I want to tell you what Jules did to me. What he gave me. How he treated me in the end. I never saw it coming. I couldn’t believe it really, but most importantly mama. I hate coming home and seeing you not there. Where your voice doesn’t echo in the hallway. I hate seeing Todd pass out drunk on the floor almost nearly every night. Hearing Alexis cry over the phone. Her saying, “we need to be strong. It’s okay Sky. We got each other”. This is so fucked up.. all of this. I am thankful that my friend Bo, drove 7 hours to be by my side. I am thankful that Audrey was there and watched me grieve my mom the day she died. She held me, and watched my mom took her last breaths. Talking about this now is triggering. I can’t... I hate cancer. I hate missing you. I hate such bad flashbacks. It’s so triggering. Anyway, I haven’t landed a job.. I am interning still. I move away from U of I and back into my old childhood home for a few months. I have a trip planned to Cali. I been california dreaming for months. I will keep doing so... I will keep traveling the world. I don’t care about being alone. I am okay with it. At least no one will hurt me. I changed a lot as a person and overcame so much. I am stronger than I used to be. I am a deeper person. Spiritually and emotionally. Hell, looking back at all my post makes me cringe. Like why were you crying over someone like that? I a so glad I lost weight and started prioritizing myself. I am still trying to manage my mental health. My mood swings. I was in therapy for a bit and will be going back. There is some insurance issues and cancellations that had occured on their end, but I am counting down the days. Self love may not always look beautiful. It’s not about beating your face. Putting on a cute outfit or changing your hair. It’s a lot of tears, heavy workouts, sleeping, and recognizing your toxic patterns. It’s about digging deeper into yourself. It’s about seeking help when you know you need it. It’s about learning patience and understanding. It’s about putting nourishing food in your body. It’s about sleep appropriately. I could go on and on. I am trying. I will continue to try and live to the best of my ability. I don’t want to rot even though sometimes my mind tells me to disappear or to hurt myself. I am trying to control my rage, but I have and am healing... somethings I am over and some are not. It will be okay. I will be okay. I think. I hope. Also, in my next post I plan to talk about the spiritual things I have encountered before, during, and after my mom's passing. I have been “awake” for awhile now. However, I don’t want to burn one's eyes much longer with my long post. 

[truc0nfessionz]

i feel really depressed today

i feel emotional. drained. empty. craving.

it's weird. i have the most perfect life, the life i always dreamed about, but somedays like today i'm really sad.

today, i feel lonely. my girlfriend is in san antonio today (where she lives) and the absence without her seems massive.

yesterday, we got in a disagreement unexpectedly.

and for those 2 reasons, i can't help but wonder if i'm putting too much into this.

i can't help but wonder if maybe i should keep more to myself.

i used to be a person with hobbies. a girl with goals, a vision, things to do.

and suddenly, i'm feeling like a lady in waiting.

when she's here, i'm great. i'm 1000%. i'm on my shit. but when she's gone, it's really hard to bear.

i feel empty. i feel lonely. i feel sad.

all i want is to be with her, and i feel like that might not be a good thing.

am i losing who i am?

what about me? the things i want, crave, and dream of?

i need to get back to being who i am - being a creative, being a nurturer, being a pioneer. i want to feel deeply connected to my being, instead of what's outside of it.

also, i can't help but feel pain about the fact that avia is continuously trying to reach out to me to speak. honestly, there's nothing that she could say that would posses me to hear her out. I completely understand that she was in a bad state of mind when she attacked me, and also, i'm not willing to put myself back into that situation when i don't think she's in a better state of mind now. honestly, i don't care whether she is or not.

she's basically lauren. she won't take my silence as an answer and wants to continuously push on other avenues to get me to engage in some way.

but for avia specifically, i will adamantly decline to participate, whether she's healed or not. the truth is, i did NOTHING but help this person. so i don't have space for them to tell me how 'terrible' it was to have been given a fucking shot in your career that you didn't deserve. i'm good. she can tell that to her therapist.

i am grateful to the universe for always removing the toxic people from around me that don't need to be there. as much as i want to scream obscenities about avia and wish her unwell, i'll let the universe take care of that for me. the truth is, i hope she gets exactly what she deserves. i hope that the energy she's spent pursuing and harassing me is returned to her in the way that the universe determines appropriate. and most of all, like everyone else who's ever harmed me, i hope she learns. i hope she figures out that when you spread hate in this world you will always lose. and i hope she relearns that lesson as many times as necessary for her journey.

i'm pained that even though i do my damndest to only give pure energy - to only give love and light - that i still find myself being taken advantage of and attacked by others. that hurts my soul because i know i don't deserve this. i wasted precious energy on these people, and they tried to drag me down to hell.

but i am thankful for the lessons i've learned on them. i don't owe anyone a second chance, a third chance, or a 33rd chance (in lauren's case). i determine when you've had enough of my energy, and for these two narcissistic, sociopathic drama queens - truly, i've given enough.

the energy these people contribute is evil. it's out of flow with the universe and it's energy i don't have time to absorb or entertain. i wish them the best, and i wish to never see or interact with them in any way again.

i also manifest purpose. i seek the signs of guidance from the universe. i wonder deeply if i'm on the right path, and maintain faith that if i weren't, i would feel it and i would know.

yesterday, ivy and i disagreed about threesomes. honestly, i was instantly defensive because it felt like B all over again. this is an experience i've never in my life had, and as i said out loud yesterday, agreeing to be with ivy means that i know i will never have it.

i told her i'm okay with that. and i'm fairly certain that it's true.

but do i wonder if someday i'll wonder? i really do. i wonder that a lot.

i understand ivy's perspective fully - she only wants me to want her, and i do. but i wonder if someday i may want to explore something new, and she is adamantly against that occurring.

and on the other hand, i'm also irritated by ivy's sudden interest in hanging out with her classmates - half of which (LITERALLY HALF) have a fucking crush on her. now they're doing lunches and the movies and shit. like, oh sorry, i didn't realize that suddenly these random 19 year old girls were so important that you're considering reducing your time with me to hang out with them....

yeah, not sure if i'm cool with that.

and finally, my sister really irked the shit out of me this weekend. she agreed to watch my dog, then proceeded to NOT pick up my dog's food and instead feed her some random shit all weekend. which is fine, except for the fact that I AM THE ONE who would have to deal with the dog having an upset stomach after the fact.

literally, she would never do that to anyone else's dog, and i feel majorly disrespected that she would pull that with mine.

i feel fucking taken advantage of on all of these fronts. i know i don't deserve any of this energy, and i want to fight against the slightest notion that i'll accept any of it.

and so, while i'll always carry a torch of light, love and growth - i won't be fucked with this year. i will adamantly decline to participate in spaces that don't have my best interest at heart. and i can't take anything less than that, because i don't deserve it.

weirdly, i had flashbacks about aziza today. i guess this is around the time where our situationship was pretty intense last year. i haven't envisioned her mind so clearly in my face in such a long time. it almost, for a moment, made me miss her.

and while our ending was bullshit, i truly and sincerely hope she's doing well. i hope she learned something from our encounter. somedays, i still wonder about the lesson i learned from her. but i don't dwell on whether or not i should have done so. that would be counterproductive.

but damn, all these little pains in the past few years sometimes feel like they compound down on me at once. how could so many people look at my face, feel my energy and proceed to give me their worst? what did i do in each encounter to deserve this treatment?

if i'm honest, that shit with aziza and with shawn hurt a lot. and obviously, i still have massive pain over B. massive, massive, massive.

i know that the best revenge you can possibly give is to have a fantastic life without someone, but damn, sometimes i want something more satisfying than that.

sometimes, i want to hurt these people the way they hurt me. but i know in my heart it wouldn't make me feel better. i'm not like them, and that's my gift. their curse is that they'll always be themselves, with this energy to give.

please lord and universe, give peace to my heart. show me the signs of where i should be. and support my success in each endeavor i undertake.

[mehbzz]

How do you see Billy and Stu characters in your stories? Could they turn and ever kill reader?

My take on them is pretty similar to how I see them in the movies, just with a little more softness and added polyamory! A very quick ramble of an explanation under the cut.

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My fic interpretation is basically that both are narcissistic misogynists. I see Billy as able to feel guilt, empathy, remorse etc but has reached that stage where he doesn’t care anymore, he can ignore all those pesky emotions in favour of what he wants or feels. Struggles a lot with reacting appropriately to other people’s emotions, knows how he should feel, but just can’t anymore. Thinks he's acting and playing the part well but he's really not. His abandonment issues are obvious, I think he was probably a little too close to his mom, an unhealthy co-dependency that encouraged the way he has latched on to Stu first and then reader.

I see him as having panic attacks and anxiety, especially when he deems things as getting out of his control. Which includes reader. Very clingy when he deems someone as worthy of him and his time, doesn’t know how to love normally, and probably comes across as controlling and possessive. Needs to know where you are and what you’re up too, gets antsy if you’re late or not where you said you’d be.

Stu I see absolutely as a borderline psychopath. Really struggles with empathy, doesn’t feel guilt or remorse for his actions, but is very very good at mimicking it or faking it when he has too but really doesn’t care what other people think about him, or maybe genuinely forgets his act sometimes, which is why people see him as insensitive or stupid. I think Stu is a lot lot smarter than he pretends to be.

I see him with neglectful parents who turned a blind eye to his behaviour, although I can imagine him seeing a Child Psychologist for a while. Tortured animals growing up and more than likely killed at least one childhood pet. A bully at school, picking on girls and kids smaller than him in the playground, until he learnt how to “behave” and temper those more aggressive temperaments of his. Can’t have as much fun if people always have an eye on you. His parents were probably called to the school on more than one occasion when he went too far, but they probably paid them off in some way! Most likely to hurt you for fun.

I think they are on equal footing with regards to who’s in charge, it’s just not reader! Although I think I write Billy more as believing he's in control of the situation and of Stu. Whereas Stu doesn’t care either way! Been friends since they were very little and know each other inside and out.

(My favourite thoughts for their relationship in the movies flick between two ideas. They are definitely more than friends but don’t care enough to explore it, or have found common ground and are just selfishly using each other to get what they want, which is revenge on Sid for Billy, and purely the excitement of the chance to kill for Stu. Each believing they are using the other when in reality they're absolutely looped into a toxic co-dependency, fuelling each other’s worst traits.)

Both are selfish, entitled horny assholes with superiority complexes. They want, they deserve it, so they take it. Both have no qualms about pushing you way way past your boundaries. Masters of gaslighting and manipulation (fun for Stu but more from abandonment fears for Billy, useful for both.) but in my fics I think they do love reader in their own twisted ways! For Stu, I think it’s more ownership and an obsessive possession than all out genuine love, emotions are a struggle for him! Billy feels the same possessiveness but does love reader in the more conventional sense too but tries to hide it, (thanks to an emotionally stunted father, - men conceal they don’t feel)  

They wouldn’t ever kill reader. Unless maybe…. they get caught during the killing spree and its ends up a murder suicide type situation. You are theirs but they see themselves as yours as well.

I see them as needing each other to survive now; if they ever got forcefully separated it would end up in a bloodbath of self-destruction, Stu outwardly and Billy internally. They fuel each other, in the worst and the best ways. They wouldn’t survive without each other. They both see reader as worthy of them but still sort of a little below them, because you know, misogynistic asssholes!

[heathersproship]

Candy Store is ✨Problematic✨ Part 2!!!

Happy Halloween!

Before anyone gets on my ass about “UGH you’re reading too much into this! It’s just a song, it’s not that serious!” You’re right! Straight up, you are absolutely right! It is just a song. It is not that serious. I can enjoy this song for what it is. BUT I can also acknowledge it promotes bad behavior on the part of those fictional characters. And as we all know, promoting bad behavior is notoriously a no-no with antis, who are all about protecting the sweet innocent little immensely impressionable baby childrens from the big bad moral wickedness and impurities of this fucked-up world we live in by exterminating everything they subjectively deem Badwrong. Which includes listening to songs about it. ROCK MUSIC IS THE DEVIL, ONLY GOOD CHRISTIAN MUSIC IN THIS HOUSEHOLD! JESUS!

I’m doing antis’ job for them. They have a laundry list of reasons why J.D. sucks and JDronica is toxic and you shouldn’t ship them when there’s (lmfao) “many less problematic and more interesting wlw ships”. And yet. Yet these same people ship Chansaw, or Dukesaw, or Mcnamawyer, or Poly!Heathers+Veronica. What’s the difference between Heathers and J.D.? Canonically, none of the Heathers ships are Healthy and Unproblematic, not even Mcnamawyer. Hmm... what is different indeed... I guess we’ll never know, it’ll always be a mistery.

Anyway, let’s lick our way to the center of the Tootsie Pop that is Candy Store and break down why it’s ✨problematique✨. Section by section, line by problematic line, hand in unlovable hand. Buckle up, corn nuts. This is going to get long.

Are we gonna have a problem? You got a bone to pick? You’ve come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick? I’d normally slap your face off And everyone here could watch But I’m feeling nice Here's some advice Listen up biotch!

Starting off strong, we clearly do have a problem! This entire 3-minute song is Chandler’s response to Veronica expressly refusing to go along with her plans. The point of this song is to put pressure on Veronica in order to get her to go along with what Chandler wants: pranking Martha Dunnstock by writing her a fake love note signed by the boy Martha adores so much. Why does Chandler want to do this to Martha? Because she found out about the kiss on the kickball field in kindergarten. Something that happened over 10 years ago for them. The first thing she does with a new tidbit of information is to use it to hurt the person it’s about. GENIUS!! WOW!!!!

“I’d normally slap your face off / And everyone here could watch,” ah, yes, because assault is an appropriate response to being told “no.” You know who does that? Spoiled brats. Normally. She regularly assaults people? Her go-to response when people tell her no is to slap them? Normally? Normalizing? Normalizing violence? In this fictional universe? Right in front of my salad? Yikes. Stay classy, Heather, you’re beautiful.

(I like) Lookin’ hot Buying stuff They can not (I like) Drinking hard Maxing dad’s credit card (I like) Skippin’ gym Scarin’ her Screwin’ him (I like) Killer clothes Kickin’ nerds in the nose!

Brag, brag, brag, brag, BRAG!

“Drinking hard,” Um, Heather? You’re 17. Drinking underage? Illegal. The drinking age in 1989 Ohio may’ve been 19, but girl. GIRL. You’re not even 18. You know, 18? The age where one is considered an adult? Which means you’re a minor. A minor drinking alcohol is illegal. That’s illegal, Heather. Heather? That’s illegal, you shouldn’t be doing that. HEATHER UNDERAGE DRINKING IS PROBLEMATIC! HEATHER!!! IF MINORS DRINK THE ADULT GRAPE JUICE IT’S BAD HEATHER STOP GLORIFYING UNDERAGE DRINKING!!!

Okay, seriously, that’s a problem. Problematic, if you will. She shouldn’t be drinking PERIOD, much less drinking HARD. Alcohol can be addictive, and addiction is not something to strive for (and I know everyone else drinks and smokes and all that jazz in Big Fun, but we’re not talking about Big Fun right now). I’m not going to say she gets blackout drunk every time she drinks, but the way she’s going, it wouldn’t surprise me if, in a world where she makes it out of Westerburg alive and becomes an adult instead of playing at being one, she suffers from alcoholism. The younger you start, the easier it is to get entangled, right? Drinking hard, smdh.

“Maxing Dad’s credit card.” I mean, she’s got a sports car, 3 TVs, a shitton of other material things listed in that forged suicide note, and she clearly doesn’t have a paying job to get all that. Of course she can “buy stuff they cannot” when all she’s doing is spending Daddy’s money. We don’t know what the Heathers’ relationships with their parents are like, so “poor sad neglected daddy issues Chandler uwu” is no more canon than “doting father oblivious to his child’s spoiled rotten bitchy nature Chandler,” or even “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree Chandler.” If you ask me, the latter are much more interesting than the former. If J.D.’s mommy issues don’t give him a pass for his actions (and they don’t), giving Chandler daddy issues can’t either. Sorry, that’s just how it works. Even playing field.

And “kicking nerds in the nose.” Come on. It’s just a power trip, we all know this. There is no good reason for this unless stepping on other people makes you feel good. That doesn’t make you a good person, or even a likable person. And yet? Chandler’s more loved in this fandom than she is in her own actual fictional universe. Hey antis, how does that work if she’s the embodiment of problematic? If she makes bad things look cool, that’s glorifying. If she makes it look bad, that’s okay because she’s making bad things look wrong as they should be, but she’s not. She’s doing the exact opposite. She LIKES all these things. Help a girl out, where’s the logic? Why are you agreeing with this? None of this is good!

If you lack the balls You can go play dolls Let your mommy fix you a snack (whoa!) Or you could come smoke Pound some rum and coke In my Porsche with the quarterback (whoa, whoa, whoa!)

The dichotomy here. It’s one or the other. If you’re not this, you’re that. If you’re not smoking and drinking and engaging in destructive yet hardcore Adult activities, you’re a little Baby playing @barbieswithbettyfinn (heyy girl!) who needs Mommy to take care of you. There’s no middle ground in Chandler’s mind, no such thing as nuance. It’s black or white, not both. You’re cool or you’re not. You’re in or you’re out. Up or down. You’re either with us or a square, Veronica! I can see why antis like this song, ironic as that is. It validates their need for absolutes.

“Or you could come smoke / pound some rum and coke,” Wow, more drinking! Wooo! Still bad! And now smoking too! Another adult thing she should not have access to! Both have the potential to be addictive, and as I said earlier, addiction is NOT GOOD. Alcohol destroys the liver, smoking blackens your lungs and could give you cancer. Heather Chandler is, again, 17. She should not be engaging in, much less encouraging, these behaviors. Yet here she is, framing it as the better of the only two options she presents. THIS SHOULD NOT BE SEEN AS COOL. A lot of teens don’t drink or smoke but they also don’t play with actual dolls. There’s not just two ways to be, but according to Chandler, it’s either her way or the highway. You’re either a Big Kid or you’re a Baby.

Honey, whatchu waitin’ for? Welcome to my candy store! Time for you to prove you’re not a loser anymore! And step into my candy store!

Oh look, we got to the thesis statement.

Reiterating what I said before, this song is meant to peer pressure Veronica into doing what the Heathers (specifically Chandler) wants. This reinforces the dichotomy from the previous section: you’re either cool or you’re a loser, so which is it? They’re giving her a test while presenting it as a choice: there’s only one right answer and it’s not the one Veronica wants. This song is also pulling double duty as propping up the Heathers on a pedestal. Look at how cool they are! Look at all the cool things they brag about doing or being able to do, like smoking and drinking and bullying the fat girl just because they can! They make it look sooooo fun to be assholes! Is that not GLORIFYING problematic and toxic behavior?

Guys fall At your feet Pay the check Help you cheat! All you Have to do Say goodbye To Shamu! That freak’s Not your friend I can tell in the end! If she Had your shot She would leave You to rot!

Chandler built the foundation, now McNamara and Duke are adding onto it. Oh boy.

“Pay the check,” Guys treating them and paying on their dates isn’t that bad, but we have to remember the Heathers are established to be pretty well-off financially. It might’ve been okay for the times, and simps gonna simp especially if they’re trying to get something out of it, but nowadays... chalk that up to values dissonance. There might also be something to have Duke say this line since she’s the one with the bout of bulimia. In which case, that just makes it worse. A guy didn’t pay for you to throw it all up, Heather.

“Help you cheat!” I don’t think I need to explain why cheating in school is bad. Schools are always discouraging it (yet they don’t exactly make it so there’s less incentive not to do it). This line also plants the seed in our heads that McNamara is the dumbest of the Heathers since she’s not learning anything or thinking for herself. She just copies what everyone else does, which fits with her character perfectly.

“All you have to do / Say goodbye to Shamu!” Attempt to control who Veronica hangs out with. All Veronica has to do to win big in boys, booze, and the last year of her high school career is just abandon her old best friend (which she’s already done, or close to it) AND while she’s at it, plant false hope in said best friend that the boy she knows does not like her back might possibly actually like her back! Time to pick a side, Ronnie! Shiny new cool friends or dull old loser friends? Also, casual fatphobia? Shamu was a killer whale. Comparing a fat person to a whale? I know it rhymed though, but still. Susie Q could’ve fit too.

“That freak’s / not your friend / I can tell in the end,” McNamara can’t tell shit. At this point she’s been copying answers off the other two Heathers for so long she doesn’t know what a genuine friend is until she tries to kill herself. And more juvenile name-calling.

“If she / had your shot / she would leave you to rot!” Would she, though? First, the first thing we find out about Martha is she’s been Veronica’s best friend since diapers. They’re seniors in high school now—that’s their entire lives. It takes a lot of work to maintain a friendship for that long, and the fact that Veronica still considers Martha her best friend shows it’s genuine and not because they’re each other’s only option. When Veronica trades up, the one line she repeatedly refuses to cross is hurting Martha. Although she feels a bit neglected, Martha is very supportive of Veronica’s new status as a Heather, even calling it “exciting,” and she doesn’t hold Veronica flaking out on movie night against her. When Martha suspects J.D. of killing Kurt and Ram, she doesn’t suspect Veronica, even though she knows about Veronica’s penchant for forgery. There’s an extraordinary amount of mutual loyalty there. Martha’s unwavering faith in Veronica is only shaken when Veronica reveals the truth about the love note in another moment of desperation, and Veronica regrets hurting her immediately afterwards.

Second, this line shows us what the Heathers think friendship is: when opportunity comes knocking, it’s every girl out for herself. Chandler keeps the clique on a very tight leash, consistently being verbally abusive to Duke and controlling to Veronica, but not to McNamara because McNamara never questions or undermines her authority. Duke, meanwhile, resents Chandler to hell and back, and lashes out at both Veronica and McNamara at opportune moments (after the date and during the assembly respectively). McNamara didn’t get a lot to do, but Lifeboat shows us she’s very aware of the opportunistic approach when it comes to social relations with her peers: she never once mentions the word friends, only “people I know” and perhaps most prominently, “if I say the wrong thing / or I wear the wrong outfit / they’ll throw me right over the side!”

The point is, the Heathers don’t know Martha at all and they don’t care to. But they’re not above casting doubt in Veronica’s mind to manipulate her into turning against Martha even more than she already has. All they have to do is make her THINK Martha would betray her as easily as she betrayed Martha, and let that guilt fester into vindictiveness.

Course, if you don’t care Fine, go braid her hair Maybe Sesame Street is on! (whoa!) Or forget that creep And get in my jeep Let’s go tear up someone’s lawn! (whoa, whoa, whoa!)

Here we see more of the child/adult dichotomy. Braiding hair and Sesame Street OR...

“Let’s go tear up someone’s lawn!” Oh, Chandler. People work hard on their lawns and that’s not for you guys to tear it up with your wheels. The disrespect. Truly we stan some QUEENS here.

Honey, whatchu waitin’ for? Welcome to my candy store! You just gotta prove you’re not a pussy anymore! And step into my candy store!

Wow, such big girls! They upped the ante on the name calling! Don’t be a pussy, Veronica! That’s a vulgar word. Classy.

You can join the team (or you can bitch and moan) You can live the dream (or you can die alone) You can fly with eagles Or if you prefer Keep on testing me And end up like her!

Again, you’re either with us OR not. And if you’re with us, you must leave everything of your former life behind because that’s not good enough anymore. You’re better than that now. You can have it all, or you can have nothing.

“Keep on testing me / and end up like her!” That’s a threat. If you keep disagreeing with me, fuck around and find out bitch! Boy, canon Chansaw is so healthy. Just relationship goals asf! No wonder people ship them, love having a controlling partner who’s not afraid to keep threatening to pull the rug from under you, mmm! Healthy shit!

“Veronica, look! Ram invited me to his homecoming party! This proves he's been thinking about me!” “...Color me stoked!” “I’m so happy!”

With the Heathers hounding her for two-thirds of the song, Veronica folds. She’s still desperate to cling to her newfound security blanket of popularity so she puts up with the Heathers’ (mainly Chandler’s, let’s be real) bullshit. We know this will have drastic consequences later, but for now, she still thinks it’s worth the price she paid to make it there. People who pressure you into doing something you’ve made it very clear you’re uncomfortable with and don’t want to do? Not people you want to be around. Toxic and problematic. But I guess we can ignore that because who cares, they’re pretty! That doesn’t hold up for Kurt and Ram and J.D. though, just the Heathers. Double standards much? Sure, schoolyard bullying isn’t as drastic as rape and murder, but that doesn’t take away from the fact it’s still NOT GOOD HEALTHY MORAL BEHAVIOR.

For now the Heathers win the battle. Veronica keeps her mouth shut about the prank.

Honey whatchu waitin’ for? Shut up, Heather! Step into my candy store! (Time for you to prove you’re not a lameass anymore!) And step into my candy store It’s my candy store It’s my candy It’s my candy store It’s my candy It’s my candy store It’s my candy store!

Remember when I said Chandler’s adamant this is her song? This is, what, the third “Shut up, Heather!” we’ve gotten so far? And I don’t think I need to say pushing people is just rude (and more assault?). Especially to take back the spotlight for yourself—Chandler’s so desperate to be the center of attention, she can’t share it even with the girls who are supposed to be her friends. In fact, she doesn’t even seem to like any of them: she ignores McNamara for the most part (which ironically plays into why people think she likes her more), bullies the fuck out of Duke (bully x victim ship mmmmm! Not “problematic” at all!), and only lets Veronica in based on what Veronica could do for her (totally healthy to base your relationship on what your partner can do for you (this part applies to both parties btw) and threaten to take away her status every time her pesky morals get in the way of your fun! Totally not toxic or abusive whatsoever!).

If “everyone here could watch” Chandler slap Veronica had she done that, then they’re certainly out here watching her push Duke, her fellow Heather, and she gets away with it because she’s the leading Heather, and she really doesn’t give a shit what people think of her. They know she’s awful, and yet they still want her favor because she’s this rich bitch who will pitch the ultimate fit if she doesn’t get what she wants. The one she’s throwing right now makes for a great song.

The title is called Candy Store due to the simile “like a kid in a candy store.” Kids like candy, so to be in a store full of it is like a dream. But this is Heathers, so the candy isn’t sugar, spice, and everything nice, and the dream comes at a very high cost, one Veronica is clearly starting to regret investing in. With “coworkers” like Chandler around, could you blame her? Toxic work environment as fuck. It’s more like Veronica’s only coworkers with Duke and McNamara. You don’t work with Chandler, you work for her. You are not her equal and she won’t hesitate to let you know it. She’s the bitchiest boss and no one actually likes her. Except McNamara because, as stated before, Chandler ignores her for the most part. She leaves her alone. It’s not much, but it’s enough for one person to be believably sad about Chandler’s death later on. See what happens when you’re not a cunt to absolutely everyone?

So, in conclusion, this song is problematic as fuck. It slaps, but the Heathers are explicitly leveraging all the things they’re able to get away with as a means to entice Veronica into agreeing to hurt her best friend. They’re trying so hard to get her to cross the one boundary she has, and this is just the first time.

Why?

Because Heather Chandler just wants to bully the fat girl, who has done nothing to her ever. Because why not? Because fuck Martha. No one else will, right?

[bakugosbratx]

NSFW 18+ The Assistant— AU Levi Ackerman x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Smut, degrading, cursing, punishment, dom levi, sub reader, bondage, bdsm, some angst, toxic relationship, spanking, cheating, etc.

Words: 3, 673

Check out my other works here

A/N: Me and my irl moot @idfkwtfgof came up with this idea so I decided to write it out. Enjoy this fifty shades of gray moment. I’ve been working on this for over a month 🙃 I’m sorry it took me forever.

Tags: @idfkwtfgof @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie

You take a deep breath as you approached the double doors in front of you. Your heart pounded against your rib cage. The silent hallways seemed to be echoing the thumps. Anyone in your position would be nervous too if they had to meet with the CEO of the Ackerman Industries. He was not one to enjoy much company nor request it. His gaze alone could intimidate the strongest of people and you are no different.

Fist resting on the wooden door in front of you, you hesitate, but close your eyes and knock anyway. You did not hear a response as you patiently wait. Instead, the door swings open to be met with the CEO himself, Levi Ackerman. Not a word was spoken, but he ushered you inside his huge office.

Scurrying, you slightly jump as you heard the huge door slam. You are in Levi’s office. Only businessmen and women are allowed in here. You feel not even worthy to be stepping on the same floor these successful people walk on. It could also be the fact that the office seemed spotless. For someone as busy as the CEO, he sure did know how to make a stack of papers seem neat in a stack.

“Sit.” Levi instructed as he strolled over to his desk chair and doing the said action. You looked around the room. Behind Levi is a wall of windows to overlook the city of New York. His desk his a beautiful dark brown that was so clean that you could see your reflection. Along with seeing your reflection, you can see —and feel— Levi starring at you. Meeting his silver orbs, you gulp.

“Do you know why I called you in here, Y/N?” Levi questioned, his tone remaining calm as always. Somehow, this intimidated you even more.

“No, sir, I don’t.” You admit. In all honesty, you are not sure why Levi called you into his office. He waited until almost everyone has gone home for the evening to set up this meeting. You have felt nauseous all day about it. Receiving an email from the CEO was enough to make anyone’s breath hitch, but to have a meeting — alone — with him is enough to make one soil themselves.

“I want to offer you a promotion,” Levi explained, his gaze hardening. “That is, if you want it?”

This is way better news than you expected. Levi has employees for a reason. He always calls the shots since it is his million dollar company, but why get his hands dirty when he can pay people to do it for him? Since no one is allowed in his office without special permission, this seemed a bit off.

“What does the job intel?”

“Well, my company is expanding even larger than anticipated this year. I need a personal assistant. Examining the work you have put in over the years, I decided you are cut out for the job. What do you say?”

You take a moment to contemplate his words. The offer is amazing and would definitely look great on your resume, but working so close to the CEO of the company is quite intimidating. Any bad habits you have developed better end swiftly or else it’s your job on the line. Levi is not afraid to terminate anyone not fit for the job.

“I’ll take it.” You smile, the words flowing out before you could even think any further.

“You start tomorrow. I expect you in my office 8am sharp. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Standing up, you straighten out your black pencil skirt and head your way towards the door. Levi’s eyes did not once leave your figure. The way you naturally sway your hips as you walk and the way the skirt hugged your hips just right. His eyes are enjoying the desires most men have yet when you turned to look over your shoulder, his eyes where focused on his paperwork.

You went home that night, excited to tell your significant other about your promotion. He did not even blink an eye in your direction. Instead, he is pissed that you are home later than normal.

“Babe—“

“Where the hell have you been?” He hissed.

“I-I was called into the CEO’s office. I got a promotion!” You stammered, nervous under your boyfriend’s glare. He always made you feel small and his anger tends to send you over the edge. This is one of those many times.

“Why would he have you in there this late? Do you think I’m really that fucking stupid?” He scoffed, shaking his head.

“Babe, I’m being serious. I would never lie to you.” You argued.

“And how do I know that?” He countered. “How am I certain that you aren’t cheating on me? Or even hurt? Are your damn thumbs broken, Y/N? Can’t keep me updated ‘bout what’s going on? I was worried sick about you.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll do better.”

Your boyfriend walked over to you, embracing your body into a tight hug. You had so much more to say, but to prevent any further escalation of an argument, you apologized and kept your mouth shut.

The next morning arrived. You woke up extra early to have time to do your hair and makeup, dressed in your nicest attire, and wear the most expensive of jewelry. Since you are going to be around the CEO for now on, you cannot show up to work appearing sluggish. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe.

“Dressed quite nicely, huh?” He spoke, meeting your eyes through the mirror. You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat.

“I have to be.”

He stayed silent for a moment, his orbs tracing your figure. He hated when you showed confidence. It killed him inside and knowing that other men saw your beauty as well made his blood boil. He just has to ruin it.

“For the circus? Your makeup looks awful and your hair is tremendous.” He scoffed.

You bit your bottom lip. Tears welled in your eyes, but you prevented them from falling. You refuse to let him ruin your confidence. You are a strong woman and his insecurities shouldn’t be placed upon you. It is not your baggage to carry.

You meet his eyes again through the mirror. You feel your confidence crumble beneath you, but you remain strong. Turning around, you brush past him as you stroll out of the bathroom. You ignored him calling your name and demanding you to return. All he could do is watch as you left without even saying goodbye.

You arrived to the business earlier than expected. You have checked your hair and makeup more than once in the car review mirror. You are not necessarily even wanting Levi’s approval, — though he is quite handsome — you just want to look presentable. He is your boss, after all. He is not afraid to fire anyone on the spot. You are no exception.

Inhaling a sharp breath, you knock on Levi’s office door. You hear his approval to come inside and welcome yourself inside. You were not even receive a glance as you closed the door behind you. Levi’s gray orbs never left his monitor screen. You gulp nervously as you proceed towards his desk.

“I stopped to get some coffee. I brought you a tea,” you lay his cup on his desk, “just how you like it.”

He nods, still typing away. This did not help your anxiety at all. Is he regretting his decision making you his assistant? Are you disturbing him? Is he contemplating firing you? Your stomach turned at the thought.

The sound of the printer disturbed your nuisance thoughts. Levi grabbed the piece of paper and placed it on top of a neat stack. He stands up, finally looking at you.

“I have a meeting to attend to in an hour. I need these documents assorted in alphabetical order before then.”

Your eyes fall to the tall stack of papers. You definitely need more than an hour to get through them all. By Levi’s facial expression, you knew he was serious. Levi always looked serious.

“Yes, sir,” you grab the stack and meet his a gaze again, “I’ll get it done swiftly.”

“Good. I’m counting on you. Sit over there.” He orders, glancing at the couches and coffee table in the middle of his office. Maybe it is just your nerves, but his workspace seems bigger than remembered. This did not help your anxiety.

You began getting to work. You thought you are doing well on time, but time seemed to have passed you by. Levi is now towering over you, his unsatisfied silver orbs glaring down at you. You hesitate, but force yourself to meet them.

“Thought you said you would have this done?” Levi recalls.

“I-I’m really sorry, s-sir.” You stammered, expecting the worse.

“Sorry doesn’t sort the papers, Y/N.” He scolds, his silver eyes only being shown through slits.

“I—“

“We will discuss this after my meeting. Until then, I want my office spotless.” Levi continues, cutting you off. He begins walking towards the door and pauses once he reaches for the handle. “Oh and Y/N?”

You look up, meeting the CEO’s annoyed orbs. “Yes, sir?”

“You’re on strike one.” Levi warns. You did not even have a chance to ask questions as his office door slams shut behind him, leaving you alone to sulk in your thoughts.

You tidied up Levi’s office like he requested of you. Every paper went into its appropriate home, cushions are straightened out, rug is vacuumed, and you are currently dusting. This man is a clean freak by nature so there was not much to do. Still, your nerves were pulsating. This is only day one and you are not on Levi’s good side. You are becoming worrisome as your job is now potentially on the line.

The door opening made you jump. You can feel Levi’s silver orbs on you as you dust his bookshelf. He did not disturb you, though, as he proceeded towards his desk and went to work like nothing happened. Curiosity is begging you to speak, but you remain silent and complete your task.

You gather the cleaning supplies and place them back into the small closet. Returning on the guest side of Levi’s desk, he does not even look up from his monitor.

“I’m finished cleaning, sir.”

Levi did not say anything. Instead, he stood up and went to the window. His fingers grazed along the exterior which collected dust on the tips. He studied it for a moment. Your heart stopped as your breath hitched. You did not mean to forget the windows, but they look so clean already. They truly do not need much more cleaning.

“Seems like you missed a spot.” He remarks, turning to face you.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir. I thought—“

“Your cleaning is lamentable. Back to dusting. Now.” He demands, cleaning the dust off of his fingers with his handkerchief.

“Yes, sir.” You reply, gathering the cleaning supplies once again. You sprayed the windows and clean every inch of them until lunch time. Levi was sure to inspect your work before releasing you to go get something to eat.

“You’re dismissed.” He finally speaks. You are quick to collect your belongings leave his office. You stroll the long hallway to the elevator. You are finally alone with your thoughts and honestly, they were overwhelming. This job is very nerve racking and it’s only your first day. You are not making the best of impressions on your boss.

Digging in your purse, you check your cellphone. You have several missed calls and texts from your significant other. A pit in your stomach began to drown your appetite. You know this is going to cause a major fight between you two. A fight you did not want to participate in.

Reluctantly, you call your boyfriend back. He picks up on the second ring.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He hissed, sending chills down your spine. The elevator doors open and you head towards the cafeteria.

“Working. I can’t be on my phone while I’m—“

“So work is more important than me?” He interrupts.

“What? No. That’s not it at all.” You argued, picking up a bag of chips and a drink from the dispensers before checking out.

“Then answer my damn calls, Y/N!”

“I can’t when I’m at work!” You exclaimed. You hand the cashier money before mouthing the words ‘thank you.’ She gave you a worried look, but you disregarded it. This is not the first time that have heard a heated conversation between you and your boyfriend.

You go find an empty table to eat by yourself. The bickering between your boyfriend did not end on a good note as the other line went dead. You slammed your phone back into your purse and forced yourself to eat your chips. You did not even want them. Your relationship is falling through the cracks, you are failing at your job, and you are on the verge of losing what is left of your sanity.

Time really slipped away while you fumed in anger because you are now late to returning to Levi’s office. Tears prickled in your eyes. This is not good at all. Levi is going to be furious. Even possibly firing you.

You raced to his office. You did not even take the elevator as it will take far too long to get to his office. You are panting by the time you arrive and sweat droplets formed at the top of your forehead. Your hands began to shake as your hand rested on the handle. You need to go in there, but your body did not want to move. Your boyfriend is already pissed. You did not want to deal with your furious boss.

Sighing, you forced yourself to go inside. “I am so sorry.” You blurt out as you enter inside. Levi is giving you a disapproving look.

“Take a seat, Y/N. We need to have a talk.”

Following your boss’ orders, you sit in the chair parallel to his. You begin to tremble as you expect the worse. Levi’s glare does not help you feel any less uneasy either. His silver orbs are staring deep into your soul and making you feel small.

“You know you’re on strike three.” Levi begins. You gulp.

“I know, sir. I’m very sorry. I’ll accept any punishment you have in mind for me.” You sigh, trying to remain brave. Levi can see right through it, though. His gaze hardens and he makes his way around to your side of the desk. He folds his arms but does not remove his gaze from you once.

“What punishment do you think you deserve?” Levi ask, hoping you have the same answer in mind as him.

“I-I’m not sure. I’ll take anything. It’s what I deserve.” You admit, a flustered feeling coming across you. Levi studied your features, clicking his tongue.

“Bend over the desk.”

“What?” You whispered, not sure if you heard your boss correctly. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His intimidating glare pierced through you.

“Talking to that lame ass boyfriend of yours must have you goin deaf. I said bend over my desk.” Levi instructs, letting go of your chin once you catch his drift. You do as your told, bending over his desk. You are uncertain what he is planning to do, but the removal of your skirt gave you a pretty good idea. Your cheeks felt hot as your bare ass is now exposed to Levi’s viewing.

“Lace panties, huh? You planned on being put in this position later?” Levi chuckles, his digits playing with the strap of your thong. You bit your bottom lip, not knowing what to say. A hard smack to your bare ass caused you to release a moan.

“I asked you a question. It’s only polite to answer, brat.”

“Yes. It was for my boyfriend.” You confess in embarrassment for more reasons than one.

“Oh, I see. Your toxic little relationship is in need of fixing, but the only thing you have to offer is your pretty little pussy.” Levi analyzes, rubbing his hand on your ass before delivering another slap. You wince in pain, but you mentally screamed for more. You wanted Levi to continue spanking you.

“That’s not it, sir.” You mumbled. His hand landed down on your sore ass once more while the other hand finds refuge in your hair. He pulls it, tightly, bending your head back.

“What really gets me is this mouth of yours. I suggest you use it to tell the truth before I stuff it.” Levi growls lowly in your ear, letting go of your hair to return behind you.

Another slap was delivered. Little melodies of moans escaped your lips that you attempted to conceal. Levi did not comment on it as he proceed with the punishment. Your cunt dripped with your slick. It is begging to be touched, fucked, anything Levi desires really.

A few slaps and a very red ass later, Levi’s digits founder their way inside your soaked cunt. “Someone enjoyed themselves, hm?” He teased, curling his fingers in you. You shuffle a bit, enjoying the sensation he is giving you. The removal of his fingers made you whine in a needy tone.

“I did, Levi. Please fuck me.” You cry, wanting his cock already. He chuckled at your begging, his hand rubbing your red ass then hitting it again.

“On your knees. Now.” Levi demands. You happily oblige before him. He pats your head in approval. “Good girl. You do know how to listen.”

Levi begins unbuckling his black belt. You are practically foaming at the mouth as he slides the leather out of each loop. He sets it on the desk before proceeding to unbuckle his pants, releasing his hard cock for you to pleasure. Your eyes light up at the sight. The tip of his erection is at your lips, ready for you to move forward. Your tongue teases his sensitive head before you let each inch slide in-and-out of your saliva filled mouth.

“Yeah, like that, baby.” Levi praises as you deep throat his length. You choke some, but continue taking all of his cock. Your tongue spends time playing with the veins in his cock while his head relaxes in your throat.

“The cock hungry slut having a hard time deep throating all my cock?” Levi mocks as you pull it out to catch your breath. A string of saliva connected your lips and his cock together as your lust filled orbs met his.

“Not a chance.” You grin, placing his dick back in your mouth. Levi groans in delight as you repeat the same patterns as before. His cock twitches inside your mouth as pre-cum leaks from the tip and down your throat. You gladly swallow it as his cock becomes overwhelmed, releasing his semen onto your tongue. Not a drop was spilled as you milked his cock for all he had to offer.

Pulling away, Levi praises you again. “Such a good little slut you are. Time we give your pussy some attention, huh?”

“Yes, please, sir.” You beg, eagerly. He taps his desk.

“Bend over my desk.” He commands. Following orders, you bend over his desk like before. You arched your back so your ass and pussy is more accessible for Levi. He spreads your legs out more so your weeping cunt is fully exposed. The cold air sent chills down your spine. Levi is already hard again as he stares at your pussy.

Aligning himself, the tip of his cock enters your dripping hole, sliding in perfectly. You moan as he thrust a rough rhythm. His hips slap against your ass and his hands cling onto your hips. You tightly hang onto his desk as he pick up the pace. You sob out pleas for more.

“Better quiet down. Don’t want your coworkers hearing me fuck you like the whore you are now do we?”

You did not even care. You wanted Levi and you wanted him bad. Groans and profanities filled the room from you two as Levi hits all the right spots. You babble incoherent sentences as you start to climax again on Levi’s girth. Your walls clenched on his size and released when he re-enters himself. This does not stop Levi, though, as he chases after his own high.

“Already cumming again, slut?” Levi teases as he is slowly losing himself inside you. He hit your ass again while his dick twitches. “Ask permission next time.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You cry out, not wanting him to stop. He pulls on your hair again, bending down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m going to fill you up so much that you have to hide it from your boyfriend.”

“Please Levi.” You beg, not even caring anymore. You wanted Levi. You have wanted him for a long time and the feeling is mutual on his end. That is why he hired you, after all.

Levi’s cock could not withstand the pressure anymore. Releasing into the depths of your cunt, he huffs profanities as every drop enters inside of you. You gladly take it as you breathe heavily. He finally pulls out, leaving you a cum filled mess. Giving your ass a gentle tap so you will get up.

“You are dismissed for the day.” Levi grumbled as he situated himself and you did the same. You straightened out your outfit and fixed your hair. You will fix your makeup in the restroom. You proceeded to exit your boss’ office when he called out to you. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yes?” You purred, looking over your shoulder.

“Let your boyfriend know you’re my slut now.”

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[rainbowsky]

Anonymous asked:

Hi Rainbowsky! I'm a newbie turtle and I love your tumblr and I love both of them equally. I came across some posts on YT and TWT that [redacted]. Are you familiar with this issue? Any details or clarification you can share please? Thank you ^_^

Hi, Anon, glad you're enjoying my blog!

What you've managed to stumble across are some very nasty anti accounts. Welcome to the fandom, this is part of what you're going to encounter - that, and much worse. There is a reason GG and DD are always embroiled in lawsuits against toxic people. Haters and antis will say just about anything to turn people against GG and DD.

In the international fandom this type of activity is especially widespread on Twitter and YT. This particular one is so badly Photoshopped that if you have actually ever gone on Weibo you'll immediately realize it's fake.

There are some incredibly hateful rumors and lies out there about GG and DD, often including photoshopped 'evidence' and the like. Do not be fooled. If you see or hear something that tends to make GG or DD look bad, that's likely exactly what it was created to do.

My advice is always the same: block and ignore (and report where appropriate). Do not engage, do not argue, do not spread these posts around. That's exactly what these people want you to do.

Here are just a few really good reasons to avoid these people and to avoid their posts, and to encourage others to do the same:

Discussing and sharing these posts with others - even as a 'shock and anger' sort of discussion - means unwittingly spreading the lies to more people for viewing. Even if you aren't fooled by what's being said, others might not be as capable of critical thinking as you are, and they might get sucked into believing it. It's not worth the risk.

Viewing those posts and watching those videos helps to line the pockets of the antis who made them, and helps to give them clicks and clout.

These lies are designed to have a cumulative effect. You might not believe one of them, you might not believe two or three of them, but if you immerse yourself in enough of this garbage, eventually it will sway your opinion and you might become an anti yourself.

Even if you are devoted to GG and DD and will never turn against them, exposing yourself to this type of disturbing, evil, hateful garbage WILL have an impact on your mental and emotional health. Please take care of yourself and curate your experience of fandom so that you are not exposing yourself to things that hurt you or negatively impact your well-being.

Reading/viewing anti messaging has an incredibly distorting effect on how fans perceive GG and DD's popularity and how well they're doing in the industry. Such fans eventually become almost completely incapable of celebrating and enjoying GG and DD's accomplishments or acknowledging their massive success because they're too caught up in the perception that GG and DD are hated and that everyone is out to get them.

There is one last thing I really want to emphasize, because it's a misconception a lot of new fans have, or even sometimes pick up from antis:

You do not need to know what hateful things are being said about GGDD in order to be a 'good fan'.

Some people will tell you that 'if you really cared' about them you'd inform yourself about all the hate. That's utter BS.

The best way for us to support GG and DD is to not give airtime to haters, not give them clicks, views or clout, not let their lies get any oxygen in the fandom. Shut them out. They don't deserve real estate in your brain.

EDIT: I will add that everything I said in this post also applies to hateful things being said about turtles. The more airtime we give those things and the more we spread them around through discussion, the more we help to give antis clicks and clout, and the more risk that someone along the way will be infected with those ideas. The more we read and discuss those things, the more harm we do to ourselves and each other, and the more distorted our view of turtledom becomes. Best to just block and ignore (and report where appropriate).

Here are a few related posts you might find helpful:

How I manage to keep from getting angry about antis

How what we focus on shapes who we become

Toxic fans and staying in your own lane

Why so much hate from solos?

“I heard on Twitter that BXG don’t really care about GG”

Why fan wars/arguing online is such a bad idea

Why it’s so important for our fandom to behave well online

Dealing with Antis On Tumblr

Fandom Survival Guide

[silversatoru]

Hello! I wanted to request for a chubby reader x Levi oneshot. I feel like there aren’t many stories that have chubby readers ): As for the storyline, I’m not sure if it falls in the angst or hurt/comfort category. It would be the reader feeling insecure about themselves because they have a harder time training than the others (them blaming it on their own weight) and seeing how everyone is much thinner than them, they start avoiding food. To not make it look suspicious, they’d go into the kitchen alone and put the food away along with the left overs. The reader would act normal with Levi and he doesn’t suspect anything at first. Later on, the reader would push themselves harder to the point where they’d train on their own whenever they had to chance so they can lose weight and improve their training. At this point, Levi starts noticing the reader looking paler than usual and the slight difference in their weight. One day during training, the reader ends up fainting from exhaustion and dehydration. They wake up on Levis’s bed with him looking over them. He asks what happened and the reader lies by saying they didn’t drink enough water. Levi calls it bs and ask if they think he’s stupid and goes on to tell them about how they noticed the reader sneaking off into the kitchen with a plate and coming out without it. He didn’t think anything of it at first, but he started putting the pieces together. They end up telling Levi the truth, the way they feel towards themself and how they don’t like the fact that they’re bigger than Levi. He comforts the reader and lets them know that they’re an idiot for thinking that way, etc. Thank you! I’m so sorry if it sounds so cheesy!

hello dear!! i dont think your idea was cheesy at all, i love it actually. these kind of issues live very close to my heart, so writing about them is always really fun for me. that being said,, this fic definitely got very dark and very real, and i would advise everyone to read the warnings before deciding to read this <33

empty

levi ackerman x gn!reader

synopsis: levi catches you skipping meals and does what he can to help

tags/warnings: eating disorder, skipping meals, hurt/comfort, but it does have a happy ending! 

word count: 2.2k 

Throbbing headaches and hollow, gnawing pains in your stomach — they’ve quickly become your new normal. You see everything through a hazy fog these days, nothing feels real and everything hurts but it’s worth it — that’s what you keep saying to yourself. You’re tired of lacking the same agility, momentum, and grace that your thinner counterparts have. 

Your weight was always something that ate away at the back of your head, but joining the scout regiment multiplied it tenfold. You were constantly working twice as hard as your fellow scouts, and it seemed like it was never enough. Everyone around you was not only ridiculously athletic, but so fucking thin. You didn’t hate your comrades for their bodies and the way they were born, but you made up for it by inflicting all of the hate onto yourself.

You wonder if anyone notices your zombie eyes or the abnormal paleness to your face — god, you hope they don’t. The last thing you want to do is have to confront your feelings and admit what you’ve been doing lately. Every night you shamefully sneak back into the kitchen and pour your plate of food into the large pot of leftovers. You pick at food here and there when your friends are watching, but behind closed doors you haven’t eaten much of anything lately. Your body is running on empty, and it’s only a matter of time before it fully catches up to you. 

You hear your last name echo from across the training fields, slowly turning around to see an angry captain sulking towards you. His face was twisted into an unpleasant grimace, his eyebrows knitted together into what almost looked like concern. 

“I’m excusing you from the remainder of training, leave,” his words were flat, but there was a subtle emotional edge. 

“Sorry, what?” you gave him a confused look — Captain Levi never excused anyone from training, not unless they were practically on their deathbed. 

“Go home, and eat a big dinner tonight, your energy has been less than adequate lately,” his face softened slightly, “I expect you to be back to normal by tomorrow. Your skills and abilities are needed here, so go get some rest and be better tomorrow, yeah?”

“But, I-,” you stammered, trying to come up with some kind of valid excuse. 

“That’s an order, cadet”. 

His words surprised you, and before you could even rack your brain for an appropriate way to respond, he was turned on his heels and walking away. You swallowed thickly, your throat dry and stuffed full with anxiety. 

Reluctantly, you followed his orders and made your way back to the Scout’s base early. You grabbed a stack of fresh clothing from your room before heading to the showers and scrubbing yourself free of all the sweat and grime from training. You were careful to avoid mirrors when you navigated bathrooms, and tonight was no exception, your eyes glued to the tiled floor. After showering, you hesitantly walked to the kitchen, preparing a plate of food and bringing it back to your room.

That food stared you in the eyes for hours, taunting you and teasing you and making intense nausea creep up your spine.  Tears were stinging the backs of your eyes and your lungs were shaking with heavy, anxiety-filled breaths. You couldn't do it, and you were overwhelmed with shame and guilt. If you couldn’t do it for Levi, you were hopeless that you’d be able to do it for anyone, never mind for yourself. 

After making countless pitiful attempts to take a bite of your untouched meal, you decided it was going back into the leftover pot — just like everything else. The other scouts should have returned and been sleeping by now anyway, you’d just silently creep down the hallway, dump the food, and creep back, no harm no foul. 

Except for that a certain short, dark-haired captain was standing at the end of the hallway — you didn't notice him, but he certainly noticed you. A boiling anger rippled up inside him as he felt an overwhelming disappointment in your actions. He’d been suspecting this kind of behavior for a while now, but watching you tip-toe down the hall and into the kitchen with an uneaten plate of food confirmed all of his suspicions. 

You could barely crawl out of bed the next morning, your ribs aching and your head pounding with a dull pain. You grasped at your tall dresser, catching your balance as you dangerously swayed back and forth for a few seconds. After regaining consciousness and stability you carefully changed into your uniform, having to stop and take breaks every few seconds because you were running out of breath. Your body felt utterly devoid of any kind of energy, and you wondered — when was the last time I actually ate something? 

It was far enough back that you couldn’t quite remember, maybe a few days at this point, you really weren’t sure anymore. You’d have to suck it up for training though, because the last thing you wanted was to be confronted by the captain again. 

You chugged back a full glass of water before lacing up your boots and throwing on a convincing facade. People don’t seem to notice something is wrong as long as you're smiling, laughing, and going along with what they say — it’s easy enough to fly under the radar of your fellow scouts. 

Levi’s radar is a little sharper though, and he keeps a close eye on you from the second you walk up to the training grounds. He’s disappointed in your hand to hand combat — it’s sloppy, slow, predictable. Your hands look shaky too, and maybe it's the light playing tricks on him but it looks like the color is draining from your face. 

Things are feeling deplorable on your side ��� you can barely stand anymore, never mind throw punches or avoid the oncoming attacks. Your vision was starting to tunnel, foggy black surrounding your periphery as you began to lose feeling in your fingertips. You tried desperately to cling onto whatever semblance of consciousness you had left, but failed miserably, your body collapsing to the hard earth beneath you. 

The soft glow of warm candles illuminated the walls around you when you finally woke up from the earlier incident. This wasn’t your room, where the hell were you? You uncomfortably shifted to the side and flinched when you saw your captain sitting in a chair in front of you. His arms were crossed and one of his legs was propped on top of the other, an icey look in his eyes.

“What happened today?” His words were very short and his tone was flooded with irritation — he didn’t even give you a chance to take in your surroundings.

“Ah- I didn’t sleep well last night,” you lied, “And maybe I haven’t been drinking enough water or something”. 

“I’m offended that you think I would fall for such a pitiful lie,” He clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “I saw you sneak into the kitchen last night, how long have you been doing that?” 

Your eyes grew wide with anxiety, your heart abruptly dropping to the floor — you made sure to go extra late last night, why the hell was he still up?

You stayed quiet for a moment, pondering over how honest you should be with Levi right now. The two of you had always been a little closer than he was with the other scouts, but unfortunately there was no room for things like love in this world. You also assumed that maybe he never reciprocated your feelings because of your weight — but that was just more toxic fuel to the fire blossoming in your head. 

“Pretty long,” you sighed, ultimately deciding to be fully honest with him, because knowing Levi, he’d continue to see right through your lies anyway. 

“I figured,” He grumbled, uncrossing his legs and leaning back into his chair, “Why?” 

“Everyone around me is thin, I stick out. And, I’m not as agile or flexible as the other scouts either. I just thought that maybe...,” you bit down hard on your bottom lip, rolling onto your back so you wouldn’t have to look at him, “I thought my weight bothered you too, and also that I’d be more useful to the scouts if I was skinnier”. 

“You think I’d like you better if you were dead?” Levi was leaning closer now, heat boiling in his eyes, “Because that’s where you’re headed right now. If you truly think you’ll be more helpful to the scouts when you’re six feet under, you’re delusional. And who the hell gave you the idea that your weight bothered me?”

His harsh words were cold slap in the face, your eyes burning and threatening to spill over with tears. You didn’t want to die, not really, you just didn’t want to hate yourself anymore. 

“No one! I don’t know, I just thought, maybe because I was bigger than you-,” You continued to stammer over your words, tears beginning to leak down your cheeks. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he waved you off, not wanting to push the issue further, “You’re wrong, and I’m hurt that you’d even think that. I’ve never once thought that you were anything other than the way you should be”.

“I’m sorry,” your voice was weak and shaky, but your heart was pounding against your chest at his words. 

“I’m not the person you should be apologizing to, that’s something you owe to yourself” he shook his head and stood up to retrieve two small bowls of food from a nearby table, “I brought you something to eat”.

You watched him intently, pondering over his words about apologizing to yourself.

“It’s only a bowl of soup, so you can start small, yeah?” He offered one of the bowls to you, which you hesitantly took into your hands as you sat up. 

He sat down again across from you again, leaning back and taking a sip of broth from his bowl. You were grateful that he was here, that he was eating with you — it made things a little easier. You grasped the spoon in your hands and scooped up some brothy vegetables before lifting them into your mouth. 

“Good, finish the bowl,” nodded at you, giving you a reassuring look and lifting his own bowl to his lips again. 

The two of you ate in silence until you were finished, and then he sat the bowls back on his nightstand before finding a seat next to you on his bed. 

“Stay here tonight,” he stared at you with his signature tired eyes, but there were hints of concern laced through them now, “We’ll have breakfast together in the morning”. 

“Okay,” you gave him a weak nod, trying desperately to bottle up your growing emotions, but they were becoming too much to bear. 

Small sobs began to rack through your body, your chest tightening and your stomach lurching with anxiety. You were experiencing so many feelings tonight — eating for the first time in days and being here with Levi, it was overwhelming to say the least. 

You could barely see the captain through your blurry vision, but you could feel his arms maneuver themselves around you and pull you against his chest. You stayed like that for a while, Levi’s arms delicately holding you in place while quiet sobs worked their way out of your lips. 

“You’ve dug yourself into a deep hole, I won’t lie to you,” you heard him let out a tired sigh, “And it’s gonna take time and effort for you to dig your way out, but you’ll get there. We’ll start by having breakfast and dinner together every night, how does that sound? Just you and me, no one else has to watch”. 

You nuzzled a tiny nod into his chest, your tears finally running dry. It was a terrifying thought, eating normal again, but you were starting to feel hopeful that you might actually be able to do it. 

And so the two of you met every morning and every evening for your scheduled meals, and day by day things began to get easier. You even found yourself staying over in Levi’s room after dinner and into the morning for breakfast sometimes. Spending so much time together was definitely pushing the two of you to address the feelings you’d been hiding for so long. 

But not everything was perfect, it would be irrational to think it would be. You still have bad nights, where eating is so hard you break down into tears, and where you want nothing more than to rid yourself of the food in your system. It’s a draining process, but Levi works hard to make sure you stay on track with your progress. 

It’s slow, but eventually your face starts to glow again, your skin gets smooth and soft, and the aching pains in your body start to fade. Your war with your body is far from over, but you’re doing what you can, and you’re healing yourself one day at a time.

thank u for reading this, and now i would like to give you a gentle reminder to do something nice for your body today. eating disorders and mental illnesses are huge mountains to climb over, but taking things one day at a time makes it a little easier. try and eat a meal today (even if it’s small), go to sleep early and get some rest, take a shower and rub lotion all over your legs so they feel nice against your blankets when you lay in bed. baby steps are better than no steps at all, so be patient with yourself. n go drink some water, ur body loves that shit

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part VIII

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~13.2k

Warnings: this one fucking hurts, pining, stupid decisions, miscommunications, explicit sexual content (it’s time for something we’ve been waiting for), yet another party, angst A/N: Read this, but before you murder me remember there’s one more after this. Also, this isn’t the big thing you’ve been waiting for, but I know it’s something a lot of people have wanted to see. Enjoy this ouchie. 

Mike doesn’t feel human when he wakes up. He’s nearly positive he no longer is—body taken over by some creature of the bog with toxic breath. Jesus, what the fuck happened last night?

 Blinking hurts. Shifting his leg hurts. His chest is fucking killing him, feels like he bruised his god damn sternum, and when he moves to sit up in a bed that is not his, overwhelming nausea has Mike groaning and covering his mouth with one hand. 

 “He has risen,” a vaguely familiar baritone voice rings through the air, loud enough to make Mike wave his other hand in an attempt to mute it. Erwin chuckles, paying him no attention apparently as he speaks again, “Good timing, too. I just came to drop this off.”

 Mike tries to focus his bleary eyes on the nightstand where his friend sets down a bottle of water, a bigger bottle of Gatorade, and several liquid gel pills. 

 “Chill here for as long as you need. I’m just watching the pledges clean downstairs. Want me to bring the trash can over?” Erwin’s concern can’t entirely hide the amusement in his voice. It’s irritating, but also… Mike needs that trash can.

 “Yeah,” he croaks through his palm. “Thanks.”

 Erwin nods and grabs the little plastic bin, setting it down next to the bed. Mike considers just picking it up and sitting with it in his lap, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stay upright for long enough.

 “I’ll be downstairs. If you need anything, you’ll just have to yell because your phone is definitely sitting in a bag of rice in the kitchen right now.”

 “What?” Mike frowns. How even…

 “It got wet,” Erwin states, like that clarifies anything. “Probably in the shower.”

 “Why was I—”

 “We can talk about it when you’re less…” Erwin gestures to Mike’s face with one finger and grimaces as he finishes, “Green. You didn’t do anything too terrible, though, so you can rest easy.”

 He leaves, and Mike chokes down the pills and a few gulps of water before gently laying back down. He has to retrace metaphorical footsteps to get to the last thing he remembers from the night before, and it’s body shots off some blonde clone. His order of events goes: hanging out with Rhi, talking with you and Erwin, Zeke showing up, catching Eren mid-roofie attempt and throwing him out, getting mad at Nile, and then just a lot of drinking. Too much. Of different kinds. That had been dumb. 

 He thinks he spent a little while in the bathroom. Erwin was there. And, Nile came and went. He thinks he may have heard your voice a few times but can’t be sure, and honestly, trying to recall anything from the period of time his brain was literally incapable of processing new memories is a pretty big waste of time.

 Mike spends most of the day in Erwin’s room. He drifts in and out of restless sleep, waking up to drink his water and Gatorade. At some point, one of the kids, Jean, knocks on the door and drops a bowl of soup off, mumbles, “Erwin told me to bring this up here.” Mike hasn’t spent a ton of time around the current pledge class, but Erwin must like Jean if he trusted the kid enough to give him his room code. 

 The soup settles his stomach enough to move around a little more. His headache ebbs into a dull throb, and the sharp ache in his chest fades into that of a bruise. By around five o'clock, Mike is finally able to amble downstairs, give everyone a tired wave, mumble his thanks to Erwin, then drive himself to his apartment. 

 He's still trying to piece together what happened the night before, but he just ends up more confused than before, so he decides to put it behind him and move on. Everyone deserves a wild night every once in a while. 

 *

 Thanksgiving nears. Mike has already made plans to go home to his parents which means he has to turn down the Pike house Friendsgiving offer that Erwin extends to him. 

 He tells Mike that Nile and Hitch will be there, but Marie might show her face, "So, that will be interesting." 

 Some of the brothers who can't make it home will attend. Erwin is bringing Maddie who Mike hasn't heard about in several months, but he's pretty sure that's just to throw him off the scent of whatever Erwin has going on with you. You, who will also be in attendance because apparently your mom opted to go on a girls trip instead of face the family. Mike can't blame her. 

 He thinks maybe he should reach out to you, to ask about the night he blacked out because he has a feeling you can give him some details that others can't, but Erwin assures Mike that you were only in the bathroom with him for a short time. "Just long enough to see you rip your shirt which she seemed a little too happy about."

 Mike doesn't know what he'd say to you anyway. Even after learning that Zeke had blocked his number in your phone. He's still mad that you let the fucker get close enough to do that in the first place, that you had chosen him. It's a wound that just won't heal. Any time he sees you or hears your name, all Mike can think about is why he wasn't good enough. 

 So, he keeps distancing himself. It seems like the most appropriate thing he can do until he decides he'll be able to have a conversation with you without blowing up. 

 Mike's parents are happy to see him when he walks in the door. Scout jumps on him until he picks her up and holds her like the puppy she is not. He isn't surprised when his mom asks about you, if you and Mike sorted things out. The question hurts even if he was expecting it, seems like yesterday you were walking around the house like you'd always been a part of it. 

 Lying is the easiest path to take. He tells his parents that you had to go home for the break, that you couldn't split up your time between two families in just four days, and, of course, they buy it. 

 Thanksgiving day is nice enough. The family travels a couple cities over to Mike's aunt and uncle's house. It's much bigger, has room for the relatives that are able to make it. There are traditional Greek dishes as well as the usual turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, etc. A few pictures here and there, entertaining his younger cousins—it's a good time. 

 Until Mike checks his various social media apps and sees the pictures from Friendsgiving.

 They're tame, nothing wildly inappropriate, but they still make Mike scowl as he thumbs through them. 

 One of Nile cutting into the turkey, of Reiner ripping into a drumstick, Connie hoarding all of the cranberry sauce while his best friend, a girl named Sasha, does the same with the deviled eggs. Gelgar looks to be crying with a dot of potato salad in his hair. Marie is indeed there, glaring in the background of a photo where Nile and Hitch are tapping beer bottles together with silly smiles. She looks much happier in the shot of her and Maddie sitting together, laughing over glasses of wine. 

 Mike's heart stutters when he gets to a photo of you aiming to toss food into Reiner's mouth, then of you and Erwin both holding beers in one hand and pointing matching finger guns with the other.

 Thick as fucking thieves. Two peas in a god damn pod. Mike wants to throw his phone out the window of his dad's suburban. 

 There are several more pictures that Mike doesn't bother to look at. He'd like to have a good time with his parents for the remainder of his break, and there's no way he'll be able to do that if he's pissed off. 

 So, he distracts himself. He goes on walks with Scout and plays with her for hours, watches old movies with his mom and dad, calls a couple relatives from overseas to catch up. But, those pictures are seared into the back of his mind, surfacing whenever he has down time. 

 He doesn't have any desire to go back to campus, not if he's gonna see you and Erwin together. His friend can deny it all he wants, but Mike knows something is going on between the two of you, and as he drives back to the college, he finally has the realization that… you might just be a shitty person. 

 Yeah, you have issues, but so does everyone. It doesn't excuse you from—from fucking toying with people, from using them as puppets whenever you need to. Mike wishes he'd never even tempted you to sleep with him that last time. It had felt too good and too right, but apparently you don't feel the same way. You went right back to Zeke once you'd gotten what you wanted, and Mike should have seen that coming. He should have been prepared for it. On some level he knew that's what you'd do, but that never stopped him from hoping that maybe… maybe it would have opened your eyes. 

 Plus, it ruined the entire Jurassic Park franchise for him, so that sucks. 

 He picks up where he left off both in his classes and in his social life. He stays away from PKA as much as he can but still attends meetings when necessary. The lacrosse season is coming to an end, so he tries to make the most of it. Rhi ends up in his bed again, both of them taking what they can from each other. Erwin jokes that he's gonna fall in love with her— "You know what happened the last time you tried to keep it casual," —and Mike nearly decks him in the face. 

 You don't try to talk to him, no texts or calls. When you see each other on campus, you don't spare him more than a sad glance as you pass him. 

 Mike is fine with it. He isn't about to be the one to make the move to talk things out. Honestly, he doesn't know if there's anything to talk out. You dated Zeke, and now you're dating Mike's best friend and trying to hide it. 

 He's mad at both of you, but it's easier to channel that blistering anger toward you rather than Erwin who he has to see on a regular basis. Besides, Erwin has always gotten around. Mike isn't especially surprised that he'd try his hand with you especially after what happened at the ranch house, but fuck, couldn't he have waited until after he and Mike graduated or something? Just disrespectful. That's what it is. 

 *

 "Bro, I do not wanna go to another party," Mike's voice rises in frustration. "Consider me partied the fuck out, okay? I'm tired of 'em."

 "It's not even a party," Erwin tells him. "It's more like a gathering of… like-minded individuals."

 Mike snorts. "Yeah, okay." 

 "I'm not kidding! Like, twelve people at the most. All we're doing is hanging out at the ranch house."

 "Will there be drinking?" Mike questions, moving his head back and forth in a mocking way. 

 Erwin shrugs his shoulders where he sits. "Of course there'll be drinking, but you don't have to partake. I just want you there to chill. Come on, man."

 "Who's going?"

 The blond lists off some of the Friendsgiving group, but he doesn't get to finish because once Erwin utters your name, Mike cuts him off with a loud, "Nope!"

 "Duuuude," Erwin sounds like the frustrated one now, not that he has any right to be. 

 "Don't dude me! Why the fuck would you think I'd have any interest in watching you two giggle and cuddle n' shit."

 "Mike," Erwin groans, rubbing his forehead. "How many times do I have to tell you…"

 "You don't have to tell me anything. I already know what I need to know."

 Standing up, Erwin seems like he's at his wit's end when he barks, "You don't know shit! You're seeing what you want to see without asking either of us! She misses you, dude. I'm just the next best thing."

 "Nice to know your dick game isn't better than mine at least," Mike grumbles. 

 "Jesus Christ, you know what? I don't care. Come to the house, or don't come. Whatever."

 Erwin takes long strides to get to Mike's front door, obviously ready to get away from him. He slams it hard enough to make Mike flinch. 

 He doesn't care how annoyed Erwin is with him. It's partially his fault that Mike doesn't want to go to the gathering, and he should know that. He'll come to understand eventually, and that thought makes it easier for Mike to make his decision. He's not gonna go. He refuses. There's no way. He won't—

 Mike ends up going. 

 After powering through finals and visiting his parents for another few days. He has a mental debate the entire way to the ranch house, swearing to himself, going over the pros and cons. He comes close to turning around more than a few times, but after a couple hours, Mike finally pulls into the large circle drive right behind Levi's black Prius. 

 Erwin is extremely surprised to see him but keeps his mouth closed about it, just tells him, "Room upstairs on the far right is still open."

 Mike drops his stuff off then greets the others—Nile, Gelgar, Reiner, Jean, Marco, and Levi. 

 "Wasn't expecting to see you here," the last states, focused on burning the loose string of his hoodie with a lighter. "Erwin told me you guys had some bullshit argument."

 "Happens sometimes," Mike dismisses as he takes a place on the couch. 

 "I guess. This is why I don't have a lot of friends. Can't put up with stupid shit like that."

 "Oh, is that why?" Mike rolls his eyes. 

 Levi snickers, shaking his head. "Aw man, he was right. You are in a bad mood, aren't ya'? 

 "Man, fuck off."

 They sit in silence for a few minutes. Mike is bouncing his foot where it's thrown over his opposite leg—anxious or angry or some other negative emotion he needs to get rid of. 

 "Party's gonna be a fucking sausage fest," Levi mumbles. 

 Nile passes behind the couch just in time to hear and informs the smaller man, "Not entirely. Maddie, Marie, Hitch, and Mike's little heartbreaker should be getting here soon."

 Mike groans internally but speaks out loud, "This was a mistake. I can't fucking be here if you guys keep talking about her."

 "If you can't handle us talking about her, how're you gonna handle seeing her?" Levi scoffs. 

 Erwin has stocked the bar with craft beer and various wines. Mike considers going ahead and breaking a few bottles open, but he resists—doesn't want a repeat of the forgotten party. 

 They set up a horror video game upstairs and an animated adult series downstairs. Erwin wasn't lying about it being a more relaxed environment than usual, but that doesn't stop Mike's neck from prickling when you arrive with Hitch at around five. Maddie and Marie show up a couple hours later, and Mike can feel the tension that surrounds all four of you. Amusing as it can be, he really doesn't have the patience for cattiness tonight. 

 High quality Chinese food is provided courtesy of Erwin's father's credit card as well as dipped strawberries that Nile keeps feeding Hitch. It gets Marie very heated very quickly, and Maddie has to talk her down in another room. 

 It makes Mike wonder if you would ever let him feed you like that or if you would snort and bat his hand away. What the fuck do you think you're doing, Zacharias? That's couples shit.

 It makes him sigh and slouch on the couch, thankful you're upstairs watching Connie play the most recent Resident Evil. 

 He knows you're not a fan of horror, so the only reason you'd be up there is to avoid Mike. 

 Good. 

 Erwin is the first to open the wine. Maddie won't leave his side, stuck to him like a magnet. The fact that he has to get a drink only furthers Mike's theory that Erwin didn't invite her as a real date. 

 He spends a fair amount of time shooting the shit with Levi. It isn't necessarily the most enjoyable conversation considering Levi's constant smartass comments, but it's better than trudging up to the second floor. 

 Nile fucks Hitch in the bathroom for everyone to hear. Marie starts crying and runs to the porch. This gathering is about as insufferable as Mike assumed it would be. 

 Eventually, you journey downstairs. It was inevitable. You spare Mike a glance and sigh as you make your way to the kitchen to grab a beer—you don't even like beer, so why—

 "Hey, can you grab me one too?" Erwin calls out, and when you hand it to him, he gives you that hundred watt grin Mike knows brings girls to their knees, but while Maddie stares at him with that dreamy look in her eyes, you just snort and gently shove him. 

 "Don't fuckin' look at me like that, Smith."

 Ah, the last name card, the one that you pull to act like you're all aloof when really you're just reeling them in. 

 "Like what?" Erwin asks before taking a sip, still smiling around the rim of the bottle. 

 "You know what."

 Mike chooses then to go upstairs, knowing he steals your attention as he stomps like a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

 Why did he even come here? Was it just to give himself more reason to brood? Solidify that he's valid in being angry? 

 Connie is trembling as his character makes his way through a decrepit house. Jean laughs every few minutes, but he also startles at every jump scare, leaving Reiner to call both of them pussies as he bites into strawberry after strawberry, throwing the stems into a little bowl in his lap. Mike supposes the first years are entertaining enough. He can see why Erwin invited them here. 

 It's close to nine o'clock. Mike is bored out of his mind, can't help venturing back downstairs mostly because he's tired of watching the pledges swear and shout at the video game (including Reiner now) but also out of morbid curiosity. 

 Marie has returned and is sitting in the kitchen with Maddie, both of whom are glaring into the den where you, Erwin, Nile, and Hitch share the couch. Hitch may as well be in Nile's lap, but you're sitting on the back ridge, feet planted on the cushions as you hunch forward and nurse a beer. Your knee is against Erwin's arm, but that's the only point of contact. Still, whenever something funny is said on the TV show, he looks up at you, as if to check that you're laughing, taking it in. Mike can't blame him. You have one of the cutest laughs he's ever heard. 

 Levi and Gelgar are both on plush loveseats on opposite sides of the room, either scrolling or typing on their phones. 

 Again, Mike has to think about how laid back the party is—even if he's a mess. It's so different from the raucous scenes he's used to—blasting music and keg stands and dancing on tables. This would be infinitely preferable if it weren't for the open pit in Mike's stomach. 

 If he could just chill the fuck out, pay absolutely no attention to you and Erwin and the way his fingers slowly wrap around your ankle when you won't stop bouncing your leg. 

 Not together his ass. 

 When Mike gets a text from Rhi, he basically sighs in relief—the perfect opportunity to forget about you for a while. 

 He doesn't bother asking to make sure it's okay with the host, just messages back, what are you doing rn? and immediately asks her to come over, knowing she only lives about an hour away. 

 Naturally, she agrees. One of the only great things about Rhi is that she’s always, always down to fuck. Mike doesn’t know if it has something to do with his size or if she just has a high sex drive. Either way, he’s glad for it.. 

 He meets her on the porch after waiting for what feels like an eternity, just having to sit and watch you kick Erwin’s thigh whenever he says something dumb. He always retaliates by pulling on your little toes which makes you squeak and almost fall off the couch. It’s fucking maddening, makes Mike want to pull his hair out or throw something, just trash the fucking house because Erwin deserves it. 

 But, then Rhi arrives in all her Ugg boot glory, wearing the old, green hoodie that you had given back to Mike a few months ago.

 They walk in, Mike’s hands on her shoulders like he’s pushing her over the threshold. You look up, take the other girl in, then very quickly step off the couch and prance into the kitchen without saying a word.

 Erwin, however, makes up for your silence, wide eyed as he stares at Rhi and utters, “Fuck.”

* You didn’t want to be like Maddie and Marie, jogging to a private place to cry over a fucking boy, but god, you are definitely locked in the bathroom, hunched over the sink sobbing as quietly as you can. Your nose is running, and your eyes are burning, leaking god damn rivers

 It wouldn’t have been so bad if she was just in her normal winter sorority get-up. But the hoodie? The one you wore for months on end, the one Mike would sniff whenever he would lay his head on your stomach, mumbling something about, “Smells good. Might have to take it back.” He didn’t have to say it out loud, but you knew he always felt a little jolt of pride when you’d wear it, like you were advertising how close you were to him.

 So, to see another girl wearing it—to see Rhi wearing it—it fucking hurts. Your throat is sore from holding back those loud, pained cries. Your stomach is rolling like you ate something spoiled. Your fingers ache from digging into the fancy, granite sink. Everything hurts. 

 It makes you wonder if Mike felt like this when you first told him about Zeke, if he feels like this now that he thinks you’re with Erwin—stupid, stupid, stupid. You shouldn’t have waited so long to talk to him. You should have cleared things up right after the party. Now, it’s too late. 

 There’s a knock on the door that makes you sniff and wipe your nose, but you still tell whoever is on the other side (most likely Hitch or Erwin), “Go away.”

 “It’s me.” Erwin. "Let me in."

 "Literally what did I just say?" 

 "If you don't unlock the door, I'll kick it in. It's my house, so I won't get in trouble for it."

 "Oh my god," you grumble before turning the lock on the knob. "Spoiled fucking brat."

 Erwin steps in and closes the door then takes a good look at your puffy face and red eyes. Sighing, he leans against the wall. "For the record, I didn't invite her. Mike must have—"

 "That doesn't make me feel any better," you say, grabbing some toilet paper to blow your nose. "Actually, it makes me feel even worse."

 "I just wanted to make sure you knew."

 "What, d'you want brownie points or something?" You ask sarcastically, making sure the toilet lid is down before sitting on it, bracing your arms on your knees and looking up at Erwin to find him frowning. "Sorry. I'm being a bitch, I know."

 He waves it off. "It's understandable. I'm not very happy with him either. The perpetual shitty mood is driving me crazy."

 You don't know much about that other than it being entirely your fault, so you apologize, "Yeah, sorry about that."

 "If you guys would have just talked it out like adults—"

 "Well, we didn't, Erwin. And, it seems like it's not even an option any more, so…" you hold your hands out in a clueless fashion, like you're at a loss. "I don't know what you want me to do."

 Your voice is thick, straining against the lump in your throat. Vision going blurry again, you shove your palms against your eyes, repeating, no more crying, no more crying, no more crying. 

 "I'm sorry he's doing this to you," Erwin says quietly. 

 You sniffle, almost laugh when you reply, "Not really different from what I did to him. Like," you have to blow your nose again so it doesn't start running, toss the toilet paper into the waste basket next to you. "I don't know if he's trying to get back at me or legitimately moving on, but I can't exactly hold it against him."

 "Still," Erwin takes a couple steps toward you. "Pulling this kind of shit is fucked up. He had to have known it would hurt you on some level."

 "You don't have to, like, take my side or whatever," you state. "I know we're friends and all, but you don't have to coddle me like this."

 "I'm not trying to coddle you. I'm sympathizing. There's a difference."

 "Whatever it is, it's unnecessary," you mumble.

 "Yeah?" Another step closer so that he's right in front of you. "So, you weren't planning on crying in here for the rest of the night?" 

 "No," you're quick to deny, but your lips quirk upward when you correct, "I was gonna go up to my room and cry in there for the rest of the night."

 Erwin shakes his head then pulls you into a strange embrace, pressing your face to his stomach with one hand while the other settles between your shoulder blades.

 Your first instinct is to shove him away, but his shirt is soft and smells like detergent, and his stomach is firm and grounding against your cheek, and the knuckles rubbing up and down the top of your spine are warm and soothing. 

 So, you stay in the slightly awkward position, shutting your eyes and trying to relax, but all you can think about is Mike walking in with his hands on Rhi and the way she looked in his hoodie. Is she cuter than you? Does she smell better than you? Does she treat him better than you did? 

 Tears well up in your eyes once again, dampening Erwin's shirt as they slip over your waterline, and before you know it, you're clutching the material covering the small of his back and crying against him. 

 And, he lets you—just keeps stroking between your shoulders and shushing you with a quiet, "I know, I know. It'll be okay." 

 Erwin is cocky and bold, takes things a little too far sometimes, but, just as you thought last year after he stole that kiss, he is good. Even if he's broken too many hearts to count and completely disregarded people's feelings, he's a good guy. At the very least, he's good to you, and that's what you need at the moment. 

 "What time is it?" You speak into his shirt. 

 "About eleven thirty."

 You hum and turn so that your forehead is resting just above his hips. It could be a suggestive position, but—

 But nothing. 

 You blink a few times, weighing the situation, everything that unfolded tonight—everything that's unfolded over the past semester and… it would make sense. It's not like you've never thought about it before. You're worked up and need to unwind, need to clear your head, and besides, Mike already believes there's something between you and Erwin, so why not take advantage of that?

 Sucking on your bottom lip, you go through a list of pros and cons. The biggest downside is that Mike will be upset with you. He already is, though, so there’s isn’t much to lose on that front. The upside is that you'll be able to forget about him for a while and possibly get an orgasm out of it. 

 "Hey, Erwin…" You're not entirely sure how to bring it up, but it turns out you don't have to. 

 "Don't fucking ask," he huffs. Perceptive bastard. 

 You push away from his stomach and look up at him. "Okay, why, though?"

 His head is hanging back, gaze trained on the ceiling as he admits, "Because if you ask, I won't say no, and it'll only make things worse."

 Something about that gives you butterflies. That's a good sign, means you might be invested enough to finally let your mind wander from Mike. 

 "Mike already thinks we're fucking, though, so unless you don't actually want to fuck me, I don't see why we shouldn't."

 Erwin walks backward until he hits the cabinets. His full lips are pressed into a tight line, and his blue eyes look like a warning. Don't push me. 

 "Do you honestly think you won't walk away from that feeling guilty?" He questions. "We know we aren't sleeping together, that we aren't actually doing anything wrong even if Mike doesn't believe it. But, to actually go through with it?" Erwin lets out a little chuckle and crosses his arms over his chest. "I probably won't feel bad 'cause I'm kind of an asshole, but you? You will feel awful."

 "I already feel awful," you remind him as you stand. "I already feel guilty. If you think I could feel any fucking worse than I already do, you might be overestimating my—my—I don't know—emotional capacity?"

 Moving forward, you nudge Erwin out of the way to get to the sink, splashing cold water on your face to clean it of dried tears. You cup a hand under the faucet, then toss some water into your mouth, swishing, and spitting, and turning back around. 

 Erwin's gaze is dark and not at all subtle when he eyes you up and down. 

 "I might hurt you, you know," he states in a voice that's considerably deeper than before. 

 You raise your eyebrows, unconvinced. "You don't have to worry about me catching feelings, Smith. Relax."

 Mouth tugging up on one side, Erwin smirks in a way that makes you squirm where you stand. 

 "That's not what I meant."

 It takes you a moment to decipher what he's trying to say, but you breathe an, "Oh," when you realize, then another as it truly sinks in. "Oh."

 That's okay, you want to tell him. I want to be hurt tonight. You only want it if it will hurt. If you confess to that desire, though, Erwin might back out—a disappointment considering the way you're starting to get a little excited. 

 "If I can handle Mike, I can handle you," you say, fully aware that he'll take it as a challenge. If there's one thing you know about men, it's that they thrive off competition. 

 Erwin is no different as he slides in front of you, hands finding your hips and pulling them to his. He's already half hard in his khakis, and you stand on your tip-toes, brushing against him as you do, to tilt your head back and hover just under his mouth as you tease, "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it before."

 "You have no idea how often I've thought about it—how often I think about it."

 You nip at his bottom lip, enjoying the way he licks it afterward. "Have you been holding back since we started hanging out—just the two of us?" 

 His fingers dig into your back, just above the curve of your ass, and you already know there will be small bruises left behind. 

 "Do you want me to paint a picture?" He rumbles, and you nod, pressing a kiss to his throat. "Any time I have you in my room I think about fucking you. On the bed. Over my desk. Up against a wall…" A little gasp makes its way out of him as you bite down on the skin you've been sucking on, and Erwin ruts against you a couple times before continuing, voice a little more strangled than before. 

 "Thought about fucking you downstairs on the couch for the whole frat to see, all spread out, moaning like a porn star. I know what you sound like," he whispers, catching you off guard when he suddenly lifts you to set you on the counter. "I've heard the way you scream for Mike." 

 There's a pang in your chest at the mention of him, but it's gone just as quickly. 

 "And, you'd like it, wouldn't you? Being watched." Erwin trails his lips from your temple to your ear, making you shiver when he speaks into it, "You can pretend all you want, but I know you liked it when I walked in on you and him. You liked being on display."

 He isn't wrong. You replay that instance in your head a little more than you probably should. 

 Hearing the fact stated now, though, right to your face has your body heating, arousal flooding you and making warmth pool between your legs. 

 "You can admit it, it's okay. I've known for a while now."

 One of his hands moves to the inside of your thigh then further up, fingers dancing over your covered pussy. It's your turn to gasp. You clutch his shoulders and spread your legs despite knowing there's no way you'll be satisfied with this, not when thick denim is separating you from his touch. 

 "Don't get too cocky, Smith." You try to sound confident, but it's hard to when your breath keeps hitching. 

 "Why?" He grazes his teeth over the sensitive space below your ear, and it makes you twitch in his grasp. "I have every reason to be."

 He goes on to list every other place he's thought about fucking you—apparently just about every setting you've ever been in with him. Each and every Pike party, the locker room before or after a lacrosse game, his Mustang, Mike's Wrangler.

 "That's fucked up," you somehow manage. 

 Erwin shrugs his shoulders, mumbles, "Can't help it," then slots his lips against yours for the first time (or, the first consensual time). 

 You're reminded of Zeke, the way all you did was compare him, only now with Erwin, you have two men who flash through your mind. He's softer than Zeke but just as bold as he cradles your head and slips his tongue into your mouth—tastes sweeter than Mike (probably from the strawberries), but it's not necessarily a good thing. It isn't bad either. It's just Erwin… Different. 

 His hair doesn't brush your cheeks like Mike's does. He doesn't have glasses to dig into your skin. Clean shaven, no coarse hairs to tickle against you, and he's smack in the middle in terms of height. You have to crane your neck more than you did with Zeke but less than you had to with Mike. 

 It's all a little jarring, but you feel this was always sort of an inevitability, at least once you started spending time with Erwin one on one. You never would have let this happen if you had stayed with Mike—if you had actually taken the next step with him—but that's why you started hanging out with Erwin in the first place. 

 You never noticed the way your back and forth was flirty, mostly just you giving him shit about one thing or another, but apparently others read further into it. And, you've had as good a time as you can. The heartache has put a damper on things, kept Erwin mostly off your radar save for the days you woke up frustrated and desperate, but that's what your vibrator is for. 

 Apparently, while you were busy making sure things stayed friendly between the two of you, Erwin's mind was getting away from him. Every god damn time you hung out, he told you, whether it was at the house or out to lunch, walking with you to classes or out to your car. 

 He did make it a habit of touching you, you can admit, but none of it was inappropriate—a nudge to knock you off balance that would result in you hitting him, a prod in the ribs that would result in you squeaking and hitting him. Sticking a foot out to trip you that would result in you…

 Dude obviously likes to be slapped around. 

 There's also the hugs. Up in his room when you feel extra gloomy, he'd wrap his arms around you and sway back and forth. Sometimes he'd sit and pull you with him, turn on a movie and keep a tight hold around your shoulders. There were afternoons you'd walk into his room while he was studying and just pass out in his bed, up too late the night before from worrying and obsessing, in need of a nap before your evening lecture. He'd set an alarm for you, stay up for a while longer before allowing himself to take a break and crawl under the blankets beside to—

 Oh, god, you've been dating Erwin Smith. 

 You have to break away from him to laugh, lightly hitting your head against his chest so that he chuckles and asks, "What?" 

 "I—" You look back up at him, shaking your head to yourself. "I can't believe I didn't fucking see it."

 "See what?" 

 "You and me—"

 "You and I," he corrects, and you shove him. 

 "You and I have just been doing what Mike and I were doing."

 "Uh, excuse me," he holds a finger up. "We have not been having endless sex, thank you."

 "That's not—" You roll your eyes. "I'm saying we've been dating without actually dating. Like, I get why everyone thinks we're a thing."

 "Oh," Erwin nods, sucking his teeth for a second then adding, "Yeah, I was wondering when you would figure that out."

 "Fucker. Did you do it on purpose? Like, just to prove you could?" 

 He frowns, looking genuinely offended. "Christ, what kind of person do you think I am?" 

 "Not twenty minutes ago you confessed to being an asshole."

 His face softens when he snickers. "Okay, true. But, no. I'm not trying to manipulate Mike or you for that matter. You've been upset, and you've put up with a lot of shit over the last few months, and I just figured you could use a friend."

 Staring up at him, you notice the way his face is turning a little red, and you hold your tongue between your teeth as you smile knowingly. 

 "You caaare about meee."

 He scoffs and looks away

 "Heartbreaker Smith cares about a girl," you tease. "How embarrassing."

 "Laugh it up. You would've been miserable without me."

 "I mean, yeah, but still. What's it like having a platonic girlfriend?" 

 He tilts his head to the side then reaches forward to squeeze your thighs. "Is it really platonic if we're about to have sex?" 

 "Absolutely. Hundred percent."

 "You're not even a little worried that it'll become a regular thing and you'll fall in love?" The arrogance is both astounding and amusing. 

 Cocking your head, you take a deep breath, expression one of false sympathy as you pat his stomach. "I'm positive. Unfortunately, my heart belongs to another."

 Erwin clicks his tongue before moving forward and sliding his hands between the counter and your ass. "I'm a little hurt, honestly. I'm used to fucking a girl and having to hide out for a while afterward—always so clingy."

 You squint, can't tell if he's being serious or overdramatizing to annoy you. 

 "You know what? Nevermind. I don't even want your little playboy ass anymore—"

 Naturally, he turns the charm back on right then, getting too close to your face, blue eyes flicking to your lips before he breathes, "Don't lie," and presses a tiny peck to them. "The tough girl act is only believable for so long."

 "Wow, fuck you."

 "That's the idea," he smirks. 

 "Har fucking har. You're so funny."

 Erwin pulls you closer to the edge of the counter and grinds his hips against yours then prompts, "Your room or mine?" 

 "Mine," you reply. "I'd rather you have to do the walk of shame later."

 "Probably a good idea since you won't be able to once I'm finished with you."

 You actually laugh out loud. It would have worked on you a few minutes ago, but all the joking has you a little giggly at this point. 

 Fuck, he is going to make a great distraction. 

 "Okay, calm down. Don't make promises you can't keep."

 "Sounds like a challenge to me."

 "Men," you sigh. "So predictable."

 After minutes more of unnecessary banter, Erwin finally coaxes you out of the bathroom you've both spent far too much time in. Your face has cleared up, the urge to cry subsiding, though your heart still drops in your chest when you pass behind Mike and Rhi on the couch, green eyes tracking you as you walk up the stairs in front of Erwin. 

 This is not the right way to solve a problem, but it'll probably be fun for a while. It's already fun as Erwin kicks the door closed and walks you back to the bed. He isn't even touching you, just watching you with a hazy blue gaze. He isn't smiling, looks like a predator, and honestly, it's ridiculously attractive. 

 "Stop making that face."

 "What face?" 

 "That—that—"

 You run into the bed, wave your arms to keep your balance, but Erwin presses his fingertips to your chest and just barely pushes to knock you back. 

 "What face, hm?" 

 The hair on your arms and neck is standing on end, anticipation bubbling in your gut as you try to crawl higher on the mattress only for Erwin to grab you by the ankle and tug you back down. 

 Damn. He's good at this. 

 "Stay," he commands, straightening up to take his shirt off. 

 He's tan and toned, light blonde hair sprinkled over his chest and above the waistband of his pants. 

 You're reminded of the very first Pike party you went to, the first time you slept with Mike (and can't remember), walking downstairs the following morning to find Erwin in the kitchen wearing sweats and drinking his coffee and smirking at you like he could tell the future. 

 Maddening. He's maddening. 

 You rid yourself of your own top then shimmy out of your jeans. Erwin eyes you hungrily, causing your whole body to tingle. It simultaneously makes you want to cover yourself and spread yourself open for him. 

 "I have been waiting way too fucking long for this," Erwin mumbles, raking fingernails down your torso so that you take in a shuddering breath. 

 "It's been, like, a y-year and a half." Your back arches on its own volition, hips bucking as Erwin scratches over the bones before catching your thong and pulling it down. He kneels at the end of the bed, a familiar scene save for the head of shiny, golden hair.

 "A year and a half of having to look but not touch."

 "Poor little—" you gasp when he parts your folds with his thumbs, staring at your pussy then blowing a stream of air over it. 

 "Do you know how many times I've jacked off to the thought of you? How many times I've slept with other girls while imagining it was you?" 

 You want to make another smartass comment, tease him about being a pervert or in his feelings or something, but you can't find your voice as he licks a long, slow stripe up your slit. You stare at the ceiling, not even blinking as too many signals fire in your brain all at once. 

 Erwin is good with his mouth. Like, stupid good. He has a teasing rhythm, flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue until your muscles are coiled then moves to trace the ring of your entrance, taking his time as you turn from human to puddle. 

 He’s better at this than Zeke who would purposely graze his teeth over your sensitive little bud a little too hard on purpose, would suck on it until it hurt. He liked when you whimpered for him, liked leaving raised welts on your ribs and back from where he’d scratched. The intermixed pain and pleasure never failed to make you come, but the climb up to that precipice was usually precarious for lack of a better term.

 Then, there’s Mike (because of course there is). His mood usually determined how he would take you, hard and fast before a game or slow and lazy as you both relaxed in his room. One thing always stayed the same no matter his disposition, and it’s that he fucking worshiped your pussy—even said it on multiple occasions. He would eat you out like a starving man, lapping at your juices like it would quench his thirst. Some days he would overstimulate you to the point of tears, neverending licks lavished over your clit as he pumped thick fingers in and out of your cunt. Other days he would go down on you like it was a fucking hobby—turn on a movie, spread you out on the foot of his bed, and eat you out while only halfway paying attention to the TV. He could pull multiple orgasms from you that way, letting you come around a finger or two before returning to your pulsing clit. Fuck, you used to make such a mess. He’d spend minutes trying to lick you clean, but you always ended up in the shower afterward.

 You shouldn’t be thinking of that right now, though. You should be thinking about Erwin’s clever tongue and the fingertips just barely brushing over sensitive skin. You want them inside of you, want something to clamp down on, but no matter how much you pull his hair or utter a breathy, “Please,” he keeps the same pace, only moving on when he feels like it.

 He’s doing it on purpose, trying to break you before even getting to the point of fucking you, and if you’re being honest, it just might work. He’s gonna make you lose your god damn mind tonight. Exactly like you want to.

 “Fuck, how much p-practice have you had with th-this?”

 Erwin laughs, stilling your wriggling by curling his arms around your thighs. “Too much, probably.”

 You whine when he continues, but when he starts softly sucking on your clit, you’re surprised at how close you suddenly feel, your legs naturally trying to spread further but remaining immobilized in Erwin’s grip. The threat of not being able to move only intensifies the building sensation in your gut, and soon you’re gasping his name, eyes rolling as you try in vain to buck further into his face. 

 You feel more than hear Erwin groan, a deep vibration that pours over your clit and makes you twitch. He gives you a few more long licks, then pulls back and stands, exposing the way his mouth and chin are covered in a glossy sheen. 

 “Feel better yet?” He smirks.

 You wave a lazy hand, don’t want to fluff his ego too much, so you allow him to witness your borderline stoned state while still jeering, “I’ll feel better when I have your cock inside me.”

 Erwin laughs to himself, mutters, “Eager,” then takes his pants off. 

 Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you give his cock a cursory glance and stop. “Hold on,” then slide off the bed and to your knees. 

 If you’re gonna fuck Erwin Smith, you’re at least gonna appreciate it. 

 He inhales sharply as you place your hands on his thighs, eyes traveling over his length. It’s pretty, above average in size, smooth, with a flared tip that’s currently flushing a dark pink. 

 “I really hate to admit this, but you could be, like, a dick model.”

 He chokes on some kind of snort, and you swear his entire chest turns red. “I—thank you?”

 “You’re welcome,” you tell him, promptly taking hold of his cock and guiding it into your mouth.

 “Oh, fuck, fuck—”

 His skin is soft against your tongue, warm as you take him deeper. His girth stretches your jaw, but you’re still pretty used to the feeling, had to get used to it with Mike because he’s a little bigger than—

 That’s not important. 

 Erwin breathes through his teeth as he places a hand on the top of your head, and when you look up at him through your eyelashes, he lets out a disbelieving little laugh. That confident fucking tease is nowhere to be found as you swipe your tongue over the tiny hole leaking pre then surge forward, almost pressing your nose to his pelvis as you run the muscle back and forth under the base of his cock.

 “Shit, let me—let me lean against the bed,” he says, pulling you off him and chuckling, “Gonna make my fucking knees buckle.”

 You turn where you’re kneeling, waiting for him to get better stabilized before resuming your efforts to ruin this annoying, charming frat boy who is always put together. You suck and slurp and trigger your gag reflex a couple times. Erwin’s fingers scratch against your scalp like he’s looking for purchase. He’s careful not to be too brutal as he pushes you down on his cock, raising his hips to meet your rhythm. His head is thrown back, thighs tensing under your hands as his chest rises and falls with short breaths. 

 You have to work up to it, but once you feel loose enough, you press forward and let Erwin slip further into your throat. His voice sounds like honey when he groans a low, “Hoooly fuck,” letting his head hang down as he attempts to stare at you with unfocused eyes. 

 “Okay, okay, okay,” he huffs. “Keep going and we won’t get to the main event.”

 You pull off of him with a lewd pop then raise to your feet. Your knees are a little sore, but it’s nothing some exercise won’t work out. 

 “Want me to wear a condom?”

 “I don’t care. I’m clean and on birth control,” you tell him. “What about you?”

 “Well, I’m clean, but I haven’t gotten my birth control prescription refilled in a wh—”

 You flick his chest, and Erwin laughs as he bats you away. 

 “Alright. Up on the bed with you then,” he motions to the mattress. “Lay on the edge.”

 You do as you're told, spreading your legs for Erwin to stand between, and you bite your lip when you feel him rub the head of his cock between your folds. You’re still wet with slick—probably dripped onto the carpet when you were giving him head—which makes the glide easier as he teases you. 

 “Ready?” He asks, wriggling thick eyebrows until you smile. He doesn’t wait for an actual answer before he starts pushing in, pressing your legs to your chest as he slowly seats himself in your cunt.

 You’re making that face—eyebrows moving toward your hairline as if you’re worried, jaw dropping open as air is pushed from your lungs. Erwin looks focused, licking his lips as he gazes down at the way your pussy stretches around him. 

 He thrusts in and out at a tortuous pace, apparently waiting for you to start trembling around him before he deems you ready to take more. Every one of his movements is measured, slowly pulling out only to push in all at once. The ridge of his cock drags over your g-spot, pressing firmly against it and making you claw at his shoulders. 

 He feels good, satisfying, but he’s not quite as good as Mike who used to hit all your spots without even thinking about it—somehow making you beg like a whore and sing like a little girl in Sunday school all at the same time. 

 Still, you don’t have to lie when Erwin quickens his pace and pants, “Feel good?” 

 “Fuck—yes, yes, Jesus Christ—”

 He’s pulling all manner of crude sounds from your pussy, wet and greedy as it sucks him back in with every rut of his hips. The angle is perfect—his height paired with the bed on stilts has him hitting your spot every time, and you feel the need to warn him, “If you keep—keep fucking me like this—god—m’gonna squirt.”

 “Fuck yes,” he praises, wetting a thumb in his mouth before bringing it down to massage your clit. He only speeds up as your voice rises, body confused like your muscles don’t know if they should be flexed or relaxed. 

 You feel that tell-tale burning, that urge that only gets stronger the more Erwin abuses your g-spot and presses against your clit.

 “Shit, shit, shit—”

 Erwin groans when fluid starts to trickle from you, pushes more and more out of you while quickly swiping two fingers over your clit. The sense of relief is mind-numbing. You can’t even be upset that your sheets are gonna be damp whenever you decide to sleep. 

 He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t lose his rhythm, just sticks his two wet fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean. 

 You see it now—the skill, the appeal, why the girls always come back to him. It makes sense. He’s devastatingly handsome, especially like this, all fucked out and flushed, hair out of place, lips red and swollen from biting them. 

 Yeah, Erwin is fucking hot.

 But, that doesn’t mean he’s your type. 

 Pulling out, he flips you onto your stomach, and you have to stand on your tip-toes as you lean over the bed. The burn in your calves disappears almost entirely when he slides into you from behind, pelvis pressing against your ass as he curls over you, cupping your tits and tweaking your hardened nipples as he gifts you with a series of shallow thrusts. It makes you whimper and teeter forward, unable to balance and squirm at the same time. Face suddenly buried in the mattress, your cries are muffled by the blankets. Erwin’s hands travel back to your hips, rocking you back and forth on his slick cock. He’s getting a little rougher, pressing into you as deeply as he can, and the fact that you’ll be sore from this tomorrow gives you a strange sense of satisfaction. 

 Only way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else, right? Or, underneath in your case. Being a little more in control wouldn’t be the worst thing, though, so…

 “Erwin, Erwin, fuck—Lemme ride you.”

 There is no hesitation. Erwin slips out of you and throws himself onto the bed, grinning crookedly as he watches you climb over him on unsteady limbs. His patience must have worn out some time ago, because he holds his cock with one hand, using the other to line you up with it, then guides you down his length. 

 You have to sit still for a second, or you would like to, but Erwin is still holding your hips, and he rocks you back and forth in his lap like he knows. He probably does. He’s probably fucked enough girls to notice exactly when their eyes pop open, when they shudder and break out in goosebumps because that pressure is hitting exactly where it needs to, and yeah, he knows. 

 Finding it in yourself to move again, you lean over Erwin, planting your hands on the pillows by his head, then start bouncing on his cock. He hisses in a dark, appreciative way, eyes and hands immediately drawn to your chest. He sits up enough to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and pinching then doing the same to the other. 

 He’s so good—feels so good, knows just where to touch, the exact place to bite on your neck that makes you melt, but how—how does he know that? It’s like he has a sixth sense or—

 Or, he just paid attention to the bruises that Mike used to leave on the sides of your throat. That checks out. 

 Fuck, he used to mark you like he wanted everyone to see, especially that last night. It was almost animalistic, like he had been—marking his territory, Zeke’s voice plays in your head. It makes you frown, and you rid yourself of the thought only to replace it with the memory of Mike’s mouth on your skin, his calloused fingertips trailing down your torso, huge hands wrapping around your legs to pull you against him—

 You whine, glad it sounds like a sound of desperation rather than frustration. You just want to stop thinking about him. Just an hour—if you could go a single fucking hour—

 “Hey, look at me,” Erwin commands in a soft voice. 

 You open your eyes, still hovering over him, and expect him to say something, but instead he just reaches up to the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. 

 He’s helping move you on top of him, forcing you to take his cock over and over, and like this, so close and breathing him in, you don’t even have the room to think about Mike. 

 Both of your bodies are damp with sweat, and Erwin’s hair is a mess, pushed from his flushed face. He bites down on your bottom lip and tugs, only letting go to ask, “Where do you want me?��

 “I don’t care,” you groan, legs and arms and pussy growing sore. You’re not surprised; you’ve been going at it for a while now. 

 Erwin licks your lower lip as if to soothe it after biting it, tells you, “Oh, don’t give me that option. You know where I’ll pick.”

 Smiling, you straighten up then move to fit your feet underneath you so you can bounce more freely. “You can come inside, dude. It feels good to me, too.”

 “I really don’t know how to respond to being called ‘dude’ when I’m balls deep in a girl.”

 You shrug, “Sorry not sorry,” then raise and drop yourself, feeling in charge for the first time tonight. 

 “Fuck—shit—”

 That feeling is short lived as Erwin goes right back to using you the way he wants. You think for about half a second that he’s finally, really losing himself, but the accuracy of his finger on your clit proves that is not the case. He’s clearly having a good time, but he isn’t at that feral stage that Mike falls into sometimes.

 Before you can dwell on it for too long, you hit your peak, moaning Erwin’s name, hips moving uncontrollably as you ride out your orgasm.

 He’s speaking, mumbling praise or pleas or curses, you aren’t so sure, but after about another minute of fucking into you relentlessly, Erwin comes, shooting line after line inside of you until he’s spent and twitching. 

 With your two previous partners, this is usually when you’d fall forward and cuddle, catch your breath and enjoy the feeling of being all plugged up.

 But, it’s Erwin, huffing and blinking up at the ceiling then finally stating, “That was a dumb idea.”

 It makes you laugh for some reason, probably because you agree. 

 The sex was great. There is a reason girls talk about him on campus, about his sexual prowess or whatever, and if you weren’t too busy suffocating in your little pit of heartbreak, thinking about your best friend nonstop, you wouldn’t mind fucking Erwin again. And, again and again.

 That’s not gonna happen, though. The heat of the moment is fading, every mental faculty returning to you, and despite the fact that you’re still seated on his cock, as you look down at him, you feel absolutely no spark.

 He’s ridiculously attractive, pretty fucking brilliant but with a dumb sense of humor, and you love him. You really do. He’s done a lot for you over the last semester, made it at least somewhat bearable, but… This shouldn’t have happened. 

 Hopefully, it quelled his curiosity, though.

 “I told you it would just make you feel shitty,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t look sad. Sympathetic more than anything, resigned that he’s probably going to have to pick up the pieces of another mess. 

 “Yeah,” you drawl. “You were right.” Your joints pop as you stand, towering over Erwin for once and leaking his fucking cum as you hop off the bed. 

 “It’s been known to happen from time to time,” he jokes absentmindedly, wiping a few drops of white off his stomach then reaching for the tissues on the nightstand. 

 You don’t feel awkward or out of place, but you have no idea what else to say. The only thing that comes to mind is, “I’m gonna take a shower,” as you walk toward the bathroom.

 Erwin moves on the bed, stretching a little before grabbing his pants and leaving you to your devices, but you pause before stepping onto the tile, turn back and pace over to him.

 “Hey,” you start, and Erwin glances up from the button of his khakis. “Thanks.”

 He rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips, and once he’s all zipped and buttoned up, he pulls you into a hug. 

 “I would say any time, but we probably shouldn’t do this again.”

 “Yeah, probably not.”

 You breathe into the space under his collarbone, humming as he gently scratches you back, then break away. “Alright, actually gonna shower now.”

 Erwin nods, “You do that,” then slaps your ass as soon as you turn around. 

 You look at him over your shoulder with raised eyebrows, but he just winks and tells you, “I had to. Just once,” which is fair. 

 You run a hot shower, scrub the shit out of your skin, lather your hair with some fancy shampoo then rinse it off. Once you go through your full routine, you’re happy to change into pajamas and slip into the comfortable bed. You don’t even mind that the comforter is a little damp in various places.

* You don’t stir when the door opens and closes, but you do when the mattress dips. Shifting slightly, you assume it’s just Erwin, falling back into your usual routine by slipping under the covers with you.

 As soon as he lays behind you, though, you know it isn’t Erwin. You recognize that weight, that warmth, that smell, and you are very awake very quickly. 

 “M-Mike?”

 All he offers is a little, “Mm,” to confirm.

 You chew on the inside of your cheek, confused and clueless as to what you’re supposed to do. 

 “Are you drunk again?”

 “No. Little buzzed.”

 Why is he here, then? You want to ask—What is he doing? Why isn’t he with Rhi?

 You start to turn to face him but you're stopped when Mike sets a hand on your back. It's oddly firm, keeping you in place as he grunts, "No, don't."

 "What?" 

 "Don't turn around." His voice is hushed and choppy, like he's gritting out every syllable. 

 "Mike?"

 "I have shit I wanna say to you, and I won't be able to if you're lookin' at me."

 You have no idea how to respond to that, don't know if this is going to be a positive one-sided conversation where Mike confesses deep feelings while actually sober, or if he'll just unload all the baggage you've given him. Either way, you wish you could see his face. Something about having him laying behind you, close enough to feel his body heat, has you feeling very uneasy. 

 But, you nod, "Okay," trying to put on a brave face that he refuses to look at. 

 For a while, he just breathes. You assume it’s because he’s gathering his thoughts or maybe working up the courage to say something, but the suspense is making you shiver under your blankets. You have that terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach, the mix of anticipation and regret you get on the way up to the first drop of a rollercoaster. 

 “Why have you been lying to me?”

 And, there’s that drop. 

 You swallow. “I haven’t been.”

 “Bullshit.”

 “Mike, I haven’t been!” You try to turn again, but his large hand is still right in the middle of your back. 

 “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?” His fingers close around the material of your shirt. You feel it tighten at your chest, making it hard to breathe—harder to breathe. “How are you gonna tell me that right after sleeping with him?” 

 You open your mouth to argue, realize you can’t make a case for yourself, and when you snap your jaw shut again, the sound of your teeth clacking seems to echo in your head.

 Yesterday, you would have been able to talk to him about this and be honest when telling him you weren’t fucking his best friend. Now, though…

 God, that had been such a bad decision. Why hadn’t you just listened to Erwin? Why can’t you fucking listen to anyone?

 “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mike mutters. His grip loosens, but you can still feel a light tug at your shirt, the movement of fingers, and you think he might be rubbing over the material he’s still holding. “Pretty sure all of us could hear you guys goin’ at it, so… Thanks for that.”

 You take a deep breath in, squeezing your eyes shut because it sinks in that this is not going to be nice conversation. This isn’t going to result in the two of you apologizing and making love confessions to each other. 

 “I… I’m sorry.”

 Now, you’re grateful for not being able to see his face. You wouldn’t be able to stand looking at him right now, not when you know his expression will be grim—probably angry. 

 “I can’t really do anything with sorry,” Mike sighs. His hand drops from your back, but you make no move to turn over. 

 Your heart is like a hummingbird’s, beating frantically in your chest as that ache rises inside of you again, making your throat constrict and your eyes burn. 

 “Why’d you invite Rhi tonight?” You ask, hoping your sniffle isn’t too noticeable.

 “Why does it matter?”

 You suppose it doesn’t, but you still want to know, “Is it to get back at me, or is it because you’re actually into her?”

 Mike scoffs. “Not that it’s any of your business, but do you think I’d be in your room at three in the fucking morning if I was into her?”

 It’s probably the closest he’ll get to admitting it, but it’s all you need to hear. He’s been going out of his way to hurt you. At least any pain you’ve caused him wasn’t intentional. Until tonight, that is, and even then, you didn’t fuck Erwin to hurt him; you did it to help yourself. 

 Pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, you hold back tears and mumble a thick, “Just wanted to know.”

 “Want to make sure I’m still interested? That I’ll keep waiting for you to fucking realize—”

 “I have—” You turn over roughly, pinning Mike’s hand under your ribs as you glare at him, but he manages to put more distance between the two of you when he yanks his arm back and sits up.

 “I can’t do this anymore,” he tells you, and you think you hear his voice waver for a second.  

 The orange light pouring in from the bathroom is the only way you can tell his eyes are wide—worried—and it chills all the blood in your body.

 “Wh-what d’you mean?” 

 “I mean, I can’t fucking do this anymore,” he repeats a little louder, drawing it out like it’ll help you understand. “I cannot deal with you anymore. I can’t keep feeling this way, okay?”

 “Mike…”

 “No,” he stops you, acts like he has something else lined up but bites his tongue and sighs. He sits cross-legged on the bed now, hangs his head as he speaks calmly, “This semester has fucking sucked. I am angry all the time. I can’t focus in class, and I can’t play lacrosse without getting in trouble, and I can’t fuck anyone else without feeling bad—I can’t fucking do anything without thinking of you, and I’m—” he looks at the wall and shakes his head. “I’m exhausted.”

 “I am too,” you tell him, voice cracking as that lump in your throat grows and bubbles, pushing hot tears from your eyes that you quickly wipe away. “Mike, I am too, so can we just—”

 “No,” he cuts you off again. “Whatever it is you’re about to say—move on, pretend it didn’t happen, pick up where we left off, whatever… the answer is no.”

 He seems like he already has his mind made up, came into the room with a plan, and he isn’t gonna let you talk him out of it. 

 So, you stay as silent as you can, sniffing and swallowing and letting the comforter catch every teardrop. 

 “I have been… Right in front of you this whole time. I made myself completely available for a year—was at your beck and fucking call. I was—I mean—I was good to you, right?” He sounds incredulous, like he can barely believe he’s asking. 

 “Yeah,” you manage. “Yeah, you were.”

 “Then, why…? Zeke? And, now Erwin?”

 “Do you want me to try to explain, or do you just wanna rant for a while?”

 Mike glances at you, looks surprised that you’d give him the option. 

 “Honestly, I don’t really wanna hear it. You’ve more than proved your point.”

 Indignation swirls in your stomach alongside your nausea, and you press, “My point being?”

 “That I’m not good enough.”

 Oh, god. No, no, no. You could understand him being angry. You’re okay with him being angry, it’s fine. But, this—this feeling of inferiority? That is so much worse. It makes you sick. This is the last thing you’d ever want Mike to feel. It’s the last thing he should feel because it’s false. He has no reason—he’s too good and too kind and too warm. He’s like… He’s fucking sunshine. He can light up a room, and he doesn’t even know it.

 “Mike, n-no,” your voice breaks, making you sound like a wounded animal. “You are so, so good. You are more than enough, I promise.”

 He snorts in a self-deprecating manner. “Then, why—”

 “Because I’m not good enough. I fucked this up. This is my fault, and I can own that as long as you know that there is absolutely no—nothing wrong with you,” the last part comes out as a squeak as you try not to hyperventilate and cry the way your body is urging you to. Not yet. 

 Mike nods a few times. You can see his mouth moving from the side like he’s biting his lip or sucking his teeth until he agrees, “Yeah,” then adds a quiet, “Whatever you say, babe,” that makes you want to throw up.

 Mike scoots to the edge of the bed and stands. You assume he’s about to leave, let you be alone with your thoughts, so when he rounds the corner to get to your side, you sit up a little straighter. 

 Half of his face is illuminated, casting shadows under his eyes, highlighting the bruise on his neck that Rhi probably left, but your gaze is trained on his as he leans down to you. A finger hooks under your chin, and Mike tilts your face at an angle, kissing you so softly that it’s painful. 

 His lips are warm and familiar, everything you’ve been craving as they cover yours. There’s no tongue, no force, just light pressure as he inhales through his nose.

 You know what this is, what he’s doing, but you can’t prepare yourself because there’s still that tiny string of hope you’re grappling for. He just needs a break. You just need to give him space. That’s all—

 “I love you,” Mike murmurs. His voice is low and honest and slices you open. “I love you so fucking much it hurts, and I just—” He brushes a thumb over your lower lip as he pulls away, and it takes everything in you not to grab his hand and beg him to stay. “It’s like I hate you too.”

 You pull away to wipe your face with the blanket. There’s so much you want to say but have no idea how to articulate it, so all you can do is stare at Mike with wide, watery eyes. He… hates you. He hates you. 

 Straightening, Mike’s expression is suddenly nonchalant, like he just flipped a switch in his brain. “I’m not exactly the social butterfly I used to be, but I wanna have fun my last semester of undergrad—make up for the time I lost fucking brooding over you, so—”

 “I’ll stop going to the Pike house,” you tell him quietly. It’s easier to make the decision yourself rather than have to hear it from his mouth: Don’t come around anymore. I don’t want to see you. 

 “Cool. And, if you, like, see me on campus or anything—”

 You cough, maybe gag, you can’t really tell at this point because wow, this just keeps getting worse. 

 “I won’t bother you.”

 “Cool.” He bends to press another much more patronizing kiss to the crown of your head, then starts walking toward the door. “I’m just gonna try to move on, you know? Start fresh. And, you should do the same. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.” 

 You don’t watch him leave, just listen for the door to click shut behind him before you crawl out of bed, turn the lights on, and start packing your things. 

 You and Hitch drove together, but you have no doubt that she'll be able to get a ride with Nile, and with that thought, you’re out of the ranch house and on the road just as the first rays of the morning sun start shining over the horizon.

 *

 It’s surprisingly easy for Mike to slip back into his old, obnoxious persona, and the remainder of the school year is spent partying, fucking, and cramming for tests he should have studied for weeks in advance.

 But, life is short, and he’s done beating himself up over stupid shit.

 Most of his PKA brothers are happy to have him “back”, and the pledges get the chance to see this of him, but there are times when Mike catches Erwin or Nile shaking their heads at him. He doesn’t mind much. They can both go fuck themselves for all he cares. 

 True to your word, you don’t show your face around the house. There were a few weeks after the holiday get-together where Erwin would disappear for a few hours at a time and come back either tired or angry, sometimes a combination of the two. 

 He attempted to bring you up in a conversation a total of one time, right in the middle of a party where Mike had been eyeing up a sorority girl. He brushed his friend off, easily telling Erwin, “Don’t fuckin’ talk to me about her,” through the crooked grin he was flashing at the little blond across the room. 

 Erwin didn’t bother after that, obviously deeming Mike a lost cause. 

 Mike knows better, though. He isn’t lost anymore. In fact, he’s found himself all over again.

 Every once in a while, he’ll catch a glimpse of you on campus, but whenever that happens, he just turns around and takes a different route to wherever he’s going. He doesn’t want to give you any reason to think you can talk to him—doesn’t want to give you the chance.

 He’s spent too much of his time hung up on you, too much time pining and hurting, and that hasn’t disappeared entirely. Mike can still clearly remember the way you looked at him the last night the two of you spoke, the way your tears twinkled in the dim light. He remembers how strangled you sounded while speaking, remembers the way your shoulders shook as you fought your emotions, remembers the way your lips trembled against his. 

 It wasn’t very satisfying. Mike left the ranch house the following morning sporting a few bruises on the outside thanks to Rhi as well as a few bruises on the inside thanks to you. 

 That entire night had been a clusterfuck—between Maddie and Marie storming off to cry then the little stunt he pulled by inviting Rhi, it had been much too dramatic for a gathering of that size. Mike experienced a wide variety of emotions that night, but the one that stands out the most is the searing rage that threatened to burn him from the inside, the red the clouded his vision as soon as he heard you moan Erwin’s name through the wall. 

 Mike had already been toying with the idea of severing all ties with you, but that’s what pushed him over the edge, watching you put on your little show when Rhi walked in only to turn around and have a grand fucking time with his best friend. 

 It needed to happen. Mike needed to free himself of you. It feels good. Mostly. There are still some days he comes close to giving in, just picking up his phone and calling you, but he resists, and he’s better for it. 

 He gets through his classes, does well on his finals after actually putting in the time to prepare for them, and by the time Mike graduates, he’s already been accepted to the graduate program of his choice and has an internship lined up. The tension between him and Erwin has faded for the most part, which is great since he’s going to grad school in the same area up north. Things look… promising—something he didn’t think possible without you by his side, something he didn’t want to be possible without you by his side. 

 But, now, here he is, unpacking his new apartment with the help of Scout who insists on sniffing absolutely everything. He’s halfway across the country from his parents, away from all he’s ever known, and Mike couldn’t be more thrilled about it. 

 He can go full days without sparing you a thought now, and he hopes—he prays—that one day he’ll think of you for the last time in his life. 

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