#i actively hate that i do NOT want him to be an asshole or think he's an asshole i love him as he is

[gunstellations]

rk800 💙 rk900

[termagax]

like i think to fish theyre just both people who shouldve died a long time ago and now they arent allowed to. because they need each other. and they both crave that and resent it.

[fatecantstopme]

Lustful Agony

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x plus size!reader

Summary: It's sex pollen, aka my favorite trope.

Warnings: cursing, use of pet names, an insane amount of smut, dubcon (cuz sex pollen), unprotected sex (p in v), oral (F receiving), masturbation (F).

"Would you please be careful?" you snapped.

Your partner froze and offered you a sheepish smile. "Sorry, doc. I wasn't paying attention."

"I noticed," you huffed. "There are any number of things in here that could kill us, so tread lightly."

"Maybe I should wait here."

You glanced in his direction and nodded. "You know what? Good idea. Stay there and don't touch anything."

You continued on through the dusty lab, hoping to find at least one working computer, but after 20 minutes, it seemed hopeless. Every computer had been destroyed and most of the paper files had been shredded or burned. All that remained was hundreds of glass vials filled with various liquids and gases that did gods-only-knew what.

"I'm starting to think this might be a burn and run," you called back to Bucky--still standing where you'd left him on the other side of the lab.

"If we blow this place, is there gonna be a toxic cloud?"

You shot an annoyed look in his direction. "I said 'burn', James, not 'blow'. We're not blowing up a lab filled with unknown chemicals and biological agents."

"Right, yeah." He looked at the ground, feeling slightly embarrassed. He always seemed to make a fool of himself in front of you and he hated it. He never wanted to be the fool, especially around you.

Your well-trained eyes scanned the room again before falling on a secured biological containment chamber. You knew that would be the best option for storing items for burning. All you'd need to do was get all the bio vials into the chamber and light it up.

You crossed the room to the chamber, feeling Bucky's eyes following you. He hated being in a position where he felt like he couldn't protect you, but he was out of his element here. As the resident hazardous materials expert, this was your area of brilliance.

You grumbled in annoyance when you noticed the lock on the containment chamber was activated. You were familiar with this particular model, and if you were lucky, these Hydra assholes hadn't been smart enough to bother changing the code. You input the pin, silently crossing your fingers, a smile spreading across your face when you heard the distinct sound of the mechanism unlocking.

You lifted the hood slowly, hoping to find the chamber empty. You had a momentary thought that you and Bucky should be wearing appropriate PPE, but the thought occurred to you too late.

A sound of surprise escaped your lips as a puff of sweet-smelling pink dust blew into your face from inside the cabinet. The tactical suit and gloves you were wearing did nothing to protect your respiratory system from the unknown substance.

The dust seemed to dissolve almost instantly, fading into nothingness before you could even alert Bucky to the hazard. He, of course, had heard your surprised gasp, thanks to his super soldier hearing.

"Doc? Everything okay?" he called worriedly.

"Not sure," you replied. "I, uh, I got hit in the face with some pink dust...and I'm willing to bet it's not fairy dust."

Bucky's blood ran cold. "Pink dust?"

"Yeah, smelled like some kind of super sweet candy--or those sugary wine coolers I drank in college."

Any color that remained in Bucky's face quickly drained. "Look at me."

His tone was so firm, it frightened you. Bucky normally joked around with you, but you could hear the fear in his voice and it scared you more than anything else.

You turned to face him and his expression confirmed your fears. "Do you know what it is?"

Bucky nodded. "I think so, but we won't know for sure for at least 30 minutes, possibly longer."

"Am I going to die?" your voice was so soft--so small--that even he almost didn't hear it.

"Not if I can help it."

When your eyes met his piercing blue orbs, he could see the terror reflected in them. He wanted to go to you, help you, but he knew he couldn't--not if you still had even the slightest trace of the dust on you.

"You need to rinse off before we get out of here," Bucky said calmly. "If it's what I think it is, then I can't get that stuff anywhere near me."

"Why? What'll happen?"

Bucky's gaze didn't quite meet yours. "I will tear you apart and not even realize it."

His words cut you like a knife. You knew deep in your soul Bucky would never hurt you, but if this substance could turn him into a wild animal, you wondered what the hell it was going to do to you.

You'd spotted a decontamination area when you'd first entered the lab, so you slowly made your way there, careful to avoid getting anywhere near Bucky.

Bucky radioed in to Sam to give him an update on the situation. You heard him describing what had happened and asking for another team to be sent in to destroy the facility.

You stood under the spray of the shower head and let the water pummel your skin. The pressure was almost painful, but you knew it was necessary to ensure the substance was no longer on your skin. You'd inhaled it, so you were screwed, but there was no reason for Bucky to be too.

After several minutes, you felt comfortable saying you were clean. You just wanted to get the hell out of this lab and back home.

You voiced as much to Bucky, but he shook his head slowly. "You're not gonna make it all the way home, (Y/N)."

You didn't like Bucky's use of your first name in this context...he always called you 'doc', and the change made you feel like death was around the corner.

Your face must have given away your fear because he continued. "I just mean you won't make it home before the symptoms start. Once they do, you won't want to be around anyone."

"So what do we do?"

"Safe house. It's our only option."

You groaned inwardly. You had zero desire to stay in that drafty little cabin another night, but you trusted Bucky's instincts, so you simply nodded.

Bucky was quick to usher you back to the quinjet, filling you in on his conversation with Sam. "He'll send in another team in full Level A hazmat gear. They'll take care of the place."

"Okay."

"You alright, doc? How you feelin'?"

"I feel fine so far. Just moderately terrified."

"Don't be. You're gonna be fine."

You wanted to believe him--really you did--but there was something in his voice that made you question if he even believed it.

By the time the jet touched down by the cabin, 25 minutes had passed since the moment of infection. Bucky still hadn't told you what you were dealing with and it was driving you insane.

You followed Bucky into the cabin and watched him drop his bag on the floor. He turned to look at you, eyes clearly sizing you up, checking to see if you were okay.

"Just tell me," you whispered--somewhere between a plea and a demand.

He sighed deeply. "How do you feel?"

You closed your eyes and took mental stock of your body, seeking anything out of the ordinary. "I feel hot, but that could just be the anxiety."

"How hot?"

"I don't know, like feverish, I guess."

Bucky groaned and the sound sent a wave of need through your body--a need that shocked you to your very core. This was absolutely not the time for your stupid crush to rear its head.

"Please don't hit me, okay? I'm just gonna touch your hand."

"Why would I hit you?" you asked a second before his flesh hand met yours. The feeling was pleasant and it warmed you from the inside out, until he removed his hand. You inhaled sharply as an intense pain you couldn't describe shot through you.

Bucky jerked his hand away, his worst fears confirmed. "I know what it is."

"Please," you whimpered.

"It's a biological agent Hydra developed when their attempts to make a useable super soldier serum failed. It was designed to induce a euphoric sexual state that would result in agony and possible death if penetrative sex was not performed and an orgasm was not achieved."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Hydra believed they could create super soldiers the old fashion way--by breeding them. Sprinkle some of the magic dust on a super soldier and he'd fuck his way through a room full of women without a single care for their well-being. They called it 'sex pollen'."

Your breathing was labored as pain began to spread through your body. You tried desperately to ignore it and focus on Bucky's words. "What happened?"

Bucky couldn't look at you as he responded softly, "None of the women survived the mating process."

You realized now what he'd meant back at the lab. You didn't really want to know, but you found yourself asking the question anyway, "Did they do it to you?"

Bucky closed his eyes, desperately trying to push the dark memories back down. "Yeah. They did."

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Bucky shook his head, banishing the memories. "It doesn't matter. What matters now is how we handle this."

"If the sex pollen had that kind of effect on a super soldier, what's it gonna do to me?"

"I imagine it's going to be significantly worse for you if you don't...umm--if you don't reach climax."

"So I have to orgasm? Seriously?"

"I wish it were that simple."

Before you could respond, you doubled over in pain, an agonized groan escaping your parted lips.

Bucky rushed to you without thinking and laid his hands on your arms. You let out a pained whine and he pulled away, suddenly remembering what was happening.

"It feels like my skin is on fire," you cried.

"I know, doll. I know."

It was killing Bucky not to be able to help you. He was your protector in every situation, but he couldn't protect you from this. He knew exactly what kind of hell you were in for and it nearly broke him.

The waves of pain subsided and you were able to pull yourself upright. "Well this is fun," you mumbled.

"It's gonna get worse, (Y/N). Much, much worse."

"That's comforting, Buck. Thank you."

He gave you a sad look. "You can't do this alone."

"What do you mean?"

"The pollen was designed to force the creation of life...the only way to alleviate the pain is to give the pollen what it wants."

Your brain had become too muddled to understand what he was saying. "Plain English, Buck. Please."

"You, uh, you have to have sex."

"So you're saying I can't just masturbate this away?"

Bucky shook his head. "You have to have sex and your partner has to umm--ejaculate inside you."

Another wave of pain raked its claws through your skin, but you managed to stay upright this time. "What happens if I don't?"

You saw the look of sadness on Bucky's face and you knew you wouldn't like his answer. "You'll die."

"Well, fuck." You winced, reaching out to grab the back of the couch for stability. The pain was only increasing and you knew it was a matter of time before you couldn't take it any longer. "How sure are you that I'll die?"

"I mean, I don't know any regular humans that survived contact with the pollen. They were used as test subjects during its creation."

"I swear, Hydra gets more disgusting every time I learn something new."

Bucky was dying to help you. Seeing you in pain was agonizing for him and he knew his pain paled in comparison to yours. He would do anything for you--all you need do was ask.

"I'm gonna try waiting it out," you said firmly.

"What?" Bucky said, shock evident in his tone.

"I'm sure as hell not gonna force you to fuck me, Bucky. So I'm gonna wait it out."

"(Y/N), you're not forcing me to do anything. I'm offering to help. I don't want you to die."

You shook your head. "I'd rather die than force you into this."

"I'm offering--"

"Don't," you snapped. "No matter what you say, I'm going to feel like I'm forcing you to do something and I can't deal with that. So please, let me try to handle this alone."

Bucky knew for a fact he could overpower you with ease, especially when you were in such a state. He could make the pain stop and you would be glad for it in the moment. But he couldn't do it. He would never ever hurt you like that, even if it meant watching you die. It just wasn't something he was capable of.

"Okay, doll."

You could tell he didn't want to agree, but you were glad he wasn't arguing. All you wanted to do was tear your clothes off and try to find some sort of relief. The fire burning under your skin was intensifying by the second.

"I'm gonna take a cold shower and lock myself in the bedroom. Please stay out here."

Bucky simply nodded. He wanted to sit on this couch and listen to the sounds of your pain about as much as he wanted to get shot in the face. But he respected you too much to ignore your wishes.

You dragged yourself into the bathroom and stripped down to nothing before climbing into the cold shower. The frigid water seemed to help at first, but you discovered the effects were short-lived.

You leaned your head against the cold tile and let out a pained sob. You wanted the pain to stop so badly, but you didn't want to involve Bucky. You couldn't. Bucky was your closest friend and partner. His was the relationship you valued most in life and you wouldn't risk it for anything. It didn't matter you were in love with him. It didn't matter you'd wanted him from the moment you'd laid eyes on him. What mattered is you knew he didn't feel the same.

Bucky had a new girl in his bed several times a week. You were pretty sure you'd never seen the same girl twice in the three years you'd known him. Each one was a tall, blonde, model-thin, gorgeous woman. You didn't check a single one of those boxes. You didn't think Bucky was shallow, he just had a type. He was one of the hottest men you'd ever seen, so it only made sense for him to be with the hottest women.

You didn't think you were ugly, by any means. You just weren't his type. You were shorter, very curvy, girl-next-door average. You'd accepted it long ago and vowed to never tell him how you felt for fear of jeopardizing your friendship. Your current situation was as close as you could get to your biggest fear and you weren't willing to risk it. You loved him too much to lose him entirely. Even if he insisted he was willing to help, you knew he would come to regret it. Things would be awkward between you and eventually your friendship would come to an end.

"Not worth the risk," you muttered to yourself.

The cooling effects of the shower had long since worn off, so you turned off the water and grabbed a towel. As you wrapped it around your body, you found it was too small to cover everything and the scratchy material was painful against your overly sensitive skin.

You dropped the towel to the ground and opened the door a crack. "Bucky?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"Um, the towel hurts my skin, so um...please don't look while I walk to the bedroom."

Bucky inhaled deeply, calming himself. Sure, he wasn't impacted by the pollen, but the fact that your naked body was a few feet away from him certainly did.

"I'll close my eyes."

You tentatively opened the door and peeked out. You could see Bucky sitting on the couch, eyes closed as promised. You quickly rushed from the bathroom to the open bedroom door, shutting it behind you. In your haste to get out of sight, you neglected to lock the door.

You nearly collapsed onto the bed, the need to feel some relief the only thing on your mind. Normally, you would have been embarrassed to even consider touching yourself when Bucky was so close by, but this was an extreme circumstance. You mentally told yourself you needed to be quiet at the very least, given his excellent hearing.

You tried to get as comfortable as you could, but it was impossible. The only parts of your body that didn't ache were the ones you were actively touching. You slipped your dominant hand between your legs and felt another wave of embarrassment hit when you felt just how wet you were.

The moment your fingers brushed between your folds, you let out a loud moan. You slapped your hand across your mouth and hoped Bucky mistook the sound for one of pain.

Bucky was breathing heavily as he sat on the couch less than 10 feet from the bedroom door. He could hear every tiny little sound you made, even as you desperately tried to stay quiet.

He knew he shouldn't be turned on by those sounds--not when you were experiencing something so awful--but he couldn't help it. He'd dreamed of hearing you moan for him a hundred times before. It took all his will-power to not bust down that door and give you what you needed.

You let out a particularly obscene moan and Bucky had to stifle his own. His cock strained against his pants and he hated himself for being turned on. He tried to tell himself it wasn't his fault--he'd wanted you for years--but he couldn't shake the feeling of shame.

Ten minutes went by and the sounds coming from the bedroom continued. Bucky gripped the back of the couch with all his strength, determined to not give himself even a modicum of pleasure from this.

Another five minutes passed and he heard you let out a pained sob. His heart skipped a beat and he listened closely for any more noise. He heard the distinct sounds of you crying and his resolve broke. He immediately went to your door and knocked.

"Doll? You okay?"

"It hurts so much," you whimpered.

He leaned his forehead against the door. "I know, sweetheart. Please let me help you. Please."

He could hear you writhing around on the bed, whimpers of pain reaching his ears and making him tear up.

"I can't--it didn't work," you cried. "I'm so hot--it hurts."

"Please, baby," Bucky begged. He placed his hand on the doorknob, dying to turn it and get to you.

"Bucky," you whimpered.

The pain in that one simple word made his decision for him. He turned the knob and was surprised to find the door unlocked. He opened the door a crack, but kept his eyes away from the bed.

"Let me help you," he pleaded again.

Your eyes roamed his gorgeous figure and you let out a choked sob. Nothing else mattered in that moment--all you could think about was him.

"Make it stop," you begged him.

Bucky's eyes snapped open, meeting yours in a desperately hungry look. He didn't say a word, didn't even allow his brain to process the deeper meaning of what he was about to do. You'd asked him to help you--to stop the pain--so that was exactly what he was going to do.

He stripped out of his tactical suit as fast as possible, leaving himself in his boxer briefs, cock straining to be set free.

You reached out a hand to him and he went to you without a thought. He climbed onto the bed, hovering over you as his eyes scanned your face.

"Are you sure about this, doll?" he asked softly.

"I need you," you whimpered back.

Those three little words shattered the sliver of resolve he'd had left. His lips met yours in a hungry, devouring kiss--all teeth and tongue. His hands latched onto your soft curves, touching every inch of skin he could reach.

Everywhere he touched felt like ice against your burning skin. The sensation both incredible and painful all at once. Whatever bit of shyness or insecurity you had was wiped away by the sheer intensity of it all.

Bucky's lips attacked your neck, your jaw, your collarbone--nipping and sucking bruising marks into your skin. While it felt good, it wasn't nearly enough.

"Need more."

Bucky nudged his knee between your legs to spread them wider for him. "I know, baby. I know."

He quickly descended down to your aching core, blowing hot air against it in a teasing manner. You whined and scratched at his scalp, reminding him this was not the time for teasing.

He flicked his tongue between your pussy lips, seeking out your clit immediately. The second his tongue brushed against it, you cried out in pleasure--the first real feeling of relief you'd had since you'd been infected.

Bucky smiled to himself as he settled in to properly feast on your pussy, reveling in the essence of you against his tongue, invading all of his senses.

You gripped his hair in one hand and the sheet in the other, gyrating wildly as Bucky ate you with abandon. The pleasure was blinding, but you could still feel the undercurrent of raging fire flowing through your veins.

Bucky seemed to instinctively know exactly what you enjoyed, following your body like he had a roadmap to your pleasure points. He sent you over the edge with ease three times before finally coming up for air.

You reached for him, still hungry for more. "Bucky."

"I'm here, baby." He kissed you deeply, hands gripping your hips tightly. He wanted to take his time with you, but he knew he couldn't--you needed more from him and you needed it now.

He was quick to discard his underwear before lining himself up with your entrance. His cock nudged against your aching hole and you both moaned.

"Please, please, please, please..." you begged.

Bucky knew what you needed and he wasted no time sheathing himself inside of you. You cried out in pain as his cock stretched you more than you'd ever experienced before. The pain quickly subsided into pleasure and the pollen seemed to sense its purpose was near.

You felt a surge of need and you begged him to fuck you. "I need it, please, Bucky."

"I've got you, sweetheart." He began to thrust gently, trying his best not to hurt you. The sensations began to overwhelm him as much as they were overwhelming you, prompting him to move faster--losing himself in the feeling of you.

"Fuck, baby. You take my cock so well."

Your pussy fluttered in response, a soft whine escaping your lips.

"Best pussy I've ever had. So tight and wet for me. Made for me, weren't you?"

You nodded rapidly, not really registering what he was saying.

"How many times you think I can make you cum, baby? Six? Seven? Think the pollen can get you there?"

Your eyes widened at his words. Unsure if that was possible even with pollen.

Bucky grinned down at you. "I think I can get seven. Bet this pussy will give me whatever I want, won't she? Gonna make my girl scream my name all night long."

You felt the coil in your belly snap as another orgasm rushed through you. You clung to Bucky, a string of profanity spilling past your lips.

Bucky didn't let you come down from it before pushing your body towards another orgasm. He wanted to feel you gripping his cock like this as long as possible--especially since he might never feel it again.

"Baby, you feel so good," he murmured, placing soft kisses to your face. "Love the way you're squeezing me."

"Feels so good, Bucky," you moaned.

"Fuck, been wanting to hear you say that for so long. Needed to be inside this tight little pussy so badly. It's better than I ever imagined."

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wanted to ask what he meant--if he'd really imagined it, but you were too far gone to articulate a coherent thought.

As another orgasm crashed into you, you momentarily wondered if it was possible to die from overwhelming pleasure. You'd been in so much pain for so long and the sudden change to blinding pleasure was incredible. It was unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

"How many more can you give me, sweetheart?"

"Wanfeelcum," you mumbled incoherently.

"What was that, baby? Too fucked out to speak?"

"Wanna feel you cum, Bucky," you begged.

He was already so close to the edge he nearly lost control at the sound of your voice. But if he was being honest with himself, he didn't want this to end. He was scared if he came, if he gave you what you needed, then you'd be satiated and it would all be over.

"Need to feel you cum on my cock at least one more time, baby."

You whimpered, but nodded your consent.

Bucky picked up the pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. You weren't sure whether it was the pollen or his skill, but you went flying over the edge of blinding pleasure with an intensity you'd never experienced. You screamed his name as the waves crashed over you, pussy gushing juices as you squirted all over his cock and abdomen.

"Fuck yeah, baby. So fucking sexy..." he murmured. "Gonna fill you up. Give you what you want."

"Want your cum," you begged.

"That's right, pretty girl. Gonna give you my cum. Fill up this sweet pussy till you're stuffed."

"Yes, Bucky! Please!"

Bucky's hips stuttered as he came, filling your pussy with ropes of warm cum. Bucky kept thrusting slowly as he whispered your name into your skin over and over like a prayer.

Slowly, the haze created by the sex pollen began to fade, leaving you completely blissed out. Awareness of what you'd done began to creep in, but the feel of Bucky's weight on top of you kept you in the moment.

He finally slowed to a halt, but his lips were still pressing into your hot skin. After several more moments, he raised himself up just enough to kiss you sweetly, making sure you felt his adoration.

The moment he rolled off you, the full weight of what you'd done hit you like a ton of bricks. If your body would have cooperated, you would have turned over onto your side, curled up in a ball, and cried.

Bucky felt the sudden shift in your demeanor and he felt his heart clench in his chest. "(Y/N/N)..."

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Surprise lit up his face. "What?"

"I shouldn't have done that--I'm so sorry."

"I'm gonna stop you right there." He sat up a little so he could look down at your face. You wouldn't meet his gaze, but he continued anyway. "Don't you dare think for a single second that I did something I didn't want to do. You were in pain and I couldn't let that stand. I would do anything for you, (Y/N). Anything. I don't regret it and I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Your eyes finally raised to meet his and you saw nothing but honesty in his gaze. You knew he cared about you, but you were still worried you'd crossed a line neither of you could come back from.

Bucky stared at your face, taking in just how incredibly beautiful you were. He was trying to commit it to memory--never wanting to forget any bit of it.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Bucky shook his head. "You don't have to thank me, doll. Like I said, I wanted to." He paused for a moment, a silent war raging inside of him. He seemed to make a decision and once he did, the words just flowed from his mouth. "I mean it, (Y/N). I've wanted to for years--wanted you for years. I never wanted it to happen like this, but fuck baby...here we are. I would do anything you asked of me, okay? I'll rip my own heart out and light it on fire if you ask me to. So if you ask me to pretend this never happened, I will, but I need you to know I don't want to. I want to make love to you over and over again, hear you scream my name, watch your beautiful face as you fall apart for me...I want you. I will always want you."

You were completely breathless by the time he stopped talking. The words coming out of his mouth weren't what you'd ever expected to hear. "You want me?"

"I've always wanted you. Every part of you. Inside and out."

"What about all the other women?"

"What?"

"The ones you bring home all the time."

He touched your face gently, turning your head to look at him directly. "They're fine for a night, but they're not you. They were a poor substitute for the woman I really wanted, but couldn't have."

"Bucky..."

He looked a little crestfallen, mistaking your tone for rejection. "It's okay if you don't feel the same--"

Your hand gently pressed against his lips, shutting him up instantly. "If I could move properly, I would have kissed you to shut you up."

His eyes lit up and a small smile played on his lips.

"Of course I feel the same. Of course I want you. I only pushed you away tonight because I didn't want to lose you. I was afraid you would regret it."

He leaned down so he was inches away from your lips. "Oh sweetheart, I could never regret anything to do with you."

Your lips curled up in a sweet smile. "Really?"

"Mhmm."

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"Any chance we can make love? I wanna be in the moment...really in it."

"Right now?" he asked in surprise.

You nodded.

His lips met yours in a loving kiss. "I'm more than happy to oblige."

You grinned as he rolled back on top of you, lips pressing against yours hungrily.

"I'll make love to you as many times as you want. Whatever you want, I'll give you. Just ask."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

You smirked slowly. "Then I might have some ideas..."

"Oh really?"

"Oh yes." You pulled his face down to yours to whisper some of your inner desires into his ear.

"My god," he murmured. "You're gonna be the death of me."

You laughed lightly and he joined in before pulling you in for a passionate kiss, dead-set on giving you everything you wanted and more.

[thelostconsultant]

Soft launch vs. hard launch

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

type: smau

summary: Oscar and Logan are very protective of you, so you and Charles have to get through them before making your relationship public.

liked by logansargeant, charles_leclerc and 35,133 others

yourusername: I wanted to start the day at the gym, but someone knows the way to my heart ☕ logansargeant ❤️

view all comments

user1: You’re in Belgium? On an F1 race weekend?

↳ user2: Can’t wait for the posts about her shenanigans with Logan. 

oscarpiastri: And where’s my coffee?

↳ logansargeant: Get your own.

↳ oscarpiastri: Good to know I can count on my friend.

↳ yourusername: Stop flirting under my post! It will be flooded with shippers in seconds. 

↳ logansargeant: Shhhh, don’t tell him.

↳ oscarpiastri: Tell me what?

↳ yourusername: Nothing. 

↳ oscarpiastri: I hate you both.

↳ oscarpiastri: And see you at the track.

user3: I love these three. They should do a podcast together during the break. 

user4: I wonder who’s dating who. 

↳ user5: It’s a poly relationship, I’m calling it now. 

↳ yourusername: Wrong. 

↳ user4: Then what’s the truth? The suspense is killing us!!!!

↳ yourusername: 🤷‍♀️

charles_leclerc: Photos I can taste in my mouth...

↳ oscarpiastri: What?

↳ charles_leclerc: Her coffee.

liked by oscarpiastri, vancityreynolds and 673,677 others

yourusername: So you wanna know what’s my favorite position? Here, now you know (credit to Debbie Ridpath Ohi)

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logansargeant: Look, there’s Oscar! 😼

↳ oscarpiastri: Haha…

user6: Sometimes I look at her weird posts and I have to remind myself what an amazing fashion model she is beside everything else she does.

user7: You should have taken a photo of yourself doing that. Preferably in a short skirt. 

↳ user8: Dude, gross, fuck off!

↳ logansargeant: Yeah, fuck off.

↳ user9: I love how Logan always shows up to tell assholes off. 

charles_leclerc: Guess the interview didn’t go as planned.

↳ yourusername: Never again. You were right.

↳ oscarpiastri: Wait, what interview?

↳ logansargeant: Hello? Care to answer your phone? 

↳ yourusername: Chill, boys, it’s ok. Already had my rant session with someone. 

↳ charles_leclerc: Anytime.

user10: When did this happen? Can’t remember Charles ever commenting under her posts. 

↳ user11: He has left comments before, but I gotta agree that he’s been suspiciously active lately.

liked by yourusername, heidiklum and 291,329 others

charles_leclerc: Thank you for having me, verawang, I had a good time. Anyway, what do you think, would this one look good on me?

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user12: Considering how often he interacts with yourusername on social media, I'm not even surprised to see he happened to pick her photo.

logansargeant: You're talking about the clothes, right? Because if you're not talking about the clothes, we will have to talk.

↳ charles_leclerc: Am I in trouble?

↳ oscarpiastri: After writing, "would this one look good on me?" Yeah, you are. Pervert.

↳ charles_leclerc: I'll send you to your room, son.

↳ logansargeant: Pulling the adoption card? Tsk, you can't pull that on me. Confess.

yourusername: *pulls out the popcorn*

↳ logansargeant: Put that down, I sent you a message.

↳ yourusername: No.

↳ user13: LOL, I love that she's only here for the chaos.

user14: Charles, what's going on between the two of you? This is suspicious.

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 1,754 others

charles_leclerc: Our first kiss captured by the one and only danielricciardo. #tbt

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user15: Soft launch on this average Thursday? Who is she?

user16: HOLY SHIT IS THIS YOURUSERNAME??????

↳ user17: This photo is so dark, how could you possibly tell?

↳ user16: Trust me, I'd recognize her anywhere. (Don't ask how.)

↳ oscarpiastri: I'd like to ask though.

↳ logansargeant: It's definitely concerning.

danielricciardo: You're welcome.

↳ logansargeant: Why are you randomly taking photos of other people making out?

↳ danielricciardo: I have a natural talent to recognize historical moments.

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 1,932 others

yourusername: Someone came home from the party with a fake beard and fell asleep with it still on his face. No kiss for you until you get rid of it.

tagged: charles_leclerc

view all comments

user18: Are you a "soft launch by Charles" son or a "hard launch by Y/N" daughter?

↳ user19: And she hard launched it with this? She's so chaotic, I love her. She could've chosen some sweet photo, but instead she chose this.

user16: I told you all it's her. I knew it!

logansargeant: If you ever want to complain about him, you know where to find me.

↳ oscarpiastri: And me. I'm ready to trash talk my father.

↳ charles_leclerc: Thanks for the vote of confidence.

user20: Not Max liking this. Dude, just follow Charles!

oscarpiastri: Okay, reacting to Charles's photo now that you made this public: Keep it PG!

↳ yourusername: Osc, don't freak out, that's just a kiss.

↳ logansargeant: Yeah, but the rules.

↳ charles_leclerc: That's a photo, it's not happening in front of you.

↳ oscarpiastri: It was on my screen, so now it's burned into my brain.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 2

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. my sincerest apologies for not putting this in the warnings at first. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. sorry bubs. swearing. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4k

Chapter 1 Master List

“You didn’t have to walk me home, you know. It’s only a few blocks.” You tell Max as you press into his side, shivering against the cold breeze of the Monaco night. It had been warm when you left the apartment earlier that evening but now the air held a chill that had you wishing you had taken Carles up on his offer to drive you back home. 

Around you, the city buzzes, a hive of activity on a Friday night but the extent of your world consists of only you and Max. 

“Of course I did. It’s late and cold and there was no way you were walking home alone.” 

“Max, we live in Monaco, I’m perfectly safe.” You joke but secretly, you’re glad Max had offered to walk you home. 

You’d never admit it but you liked being around him, his demeanor had always been calming to you and tonight, your nerves were frayed more than usual. It was probably thanks to the whispers you had heard at the gallery, asking not so quietly where Lando was as you walked around and spoke to the guests. He had never showed up and while you were disappointed he hadn’t showed, you weren’t quite surprised either. There had been something in his tone when you left that evening that had anxiety curling your gut before you even stepped out of the apartment. You hated to even think it, but you somewhat suspected he had never planned on showing up to the show at all that night but you wouldn’t ever put a voice to those thoughts.   

“Fine then.” Max huffs, but there’s no venom in his voice. “Maybe I just wanted to spend some extra time with you, okay? I feel like we never see each other anymore.” Max lets the unsaid end of that sentence hang in the air: ‘Because you’re with Lando now.’  

Your heart aches at the truth of his words. A lot of your friendships had taken a hit over the last three years. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but your circle had shrunk significantly since you had started dating Lando and it shocked you how you never had realized it until now. It had started small, with Lando saying he just wanted to spend the weekend only with you while he had a rare weekend off and then slowly morphed into him only wanting to spend time with his friends so if you wanted to see him you had to spend what little time you got with him with his friends as well. Slowly, your friends stopped calling and inviting you places because the answer was always the same: ‘sorry, Lando has plans this weekend and I’m going to tag along with him!’ Or just a straight up ‘no, not this time.’ 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, biting your lip as guilt creeps up your neck. “It’s been a rough year.” 

Max hates the regret that courses through him. He shouldn’t make you feel like this, shouldn’t voice his opinion of what he sees happening in front of him. He can’t help the frustration that bubbles to the surface when you talk like that though. He knows exactly where it comes from and it kills Max knowing that there is one person solely responsible for dimming that sparkle you’ve always had. 

Max stops in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a few tourists to shout in surprise when they have to dodge the Dutchman’s tall frame. A frown finds itself onto his face as he looks down at you. Your heart stutters to a stop, you’ve seen this look before and it has the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. 

“I hate when you do that.” He can’t help himself, he’s kept his peace for far too long but the fact that  Lando missed tonights show has been burning a hole in his chest all night and the embers were about to flare to life. 

Panic squeezes at your chest. Around you, people are shooting glances your way as you both stand in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. You only have a few moments before someone notices it is you and Max Verstappen and start taking pictures. Pictures that will inevitably show up on some gossip instagram account and cause you more trouble than they’re worth. 

“Do what?” Despite your desire to not be seen arguing with Max, you can’t help the question that slips out. 

“When you apologize for things that aren’t your fault. Anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship and it’s not you, Dovie.” Max’s words come out more harsher than they intend and he knows he’s approaching a line that probably shouldn’t be crossed tonight. 

You can’t bring your eyes up to meet Max’s heated gaze but you can feel him looking at you. Those blue eyes you used to think you could get lost in when you were younger. Before everything changed. Before you met Lando and he swept you right off your feet. 

“Charles told me about the apartment.” Max confesses. Maybe if you know you have others supporting your decision to leave, it’ll make it easier. He hopes that his support would mean something to you.

Your stomach plummets to your toes, cheeks burning red with shame. “Charles should keep his big mouth shut.” You bite out, fists working themselves into a ball at your sides. 

Max’s eyes narrow at your outburst. There was the fire that you’d been missing. Something in Max heaves a sigh of relief, you’re still in there. You’re on the cusp of getting that fire back and Max can almost see you reach for it deep in the pit of your belly. You’re so close to the edge and Max knows you well enough to know when to back off.  

“I’m sorry.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I won’t press. I just wanted you to know that I miss you.” 

Max momentarily wonders if he’s gone too far when he sees tears well up in your eyes. His heart squeezes at the thought of being the one to make you cry. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You sob, no longer caring who sees you or what could possibly make it back to Lando. “I know you’re friends with him and I shouldn’t put you in the middle of our mess.” 

Max’s brows knit together in confusion. The fact that you would question his loyalty to you over Lando simply baffles him. “I’ve been in your life longer than I’ve known Lando and you’ll be in my life long after he’s gone.” Max lets that last sentence hang in the air, the prophecy of his words clinging to your skin. 

“Max.” You whisper, floored by the fierceness of his tone and the sincerity of his words. 

Panic claws at him. He’s gone too far, revealed too much. He can’t do that with you now, not when you’re already so fragile. You don’t need that from him and he knows it. Back off, something in him orders and alarm bells clang to life. 

“All I’m saying is,” Max keeps his tone deliberately light. “If you need a friend to talk to, I’m here. Always.” 

You nod, appreciating how he backed off when he saw you panicking. 

Max takes your elbow before turning you around, pointing you in the direction of your apartment. “Come on, let’s get you home, okay?” 

As Max walks you the rest of the way home, Lando is still set up in his gaming room playing Tarkov with Max on his stream. As they begin another raid, Lando notices Max’s stream start to pick up at a much faster pace than it’s been running all evening. He’s been streaming for hours now, since before you left the apartment and while he knows the opening should be wrapping up right about now, he has a hard time caring. Those things are always so boring and he never understands the art, even if it is nice to be photographed out with you and your brothers. 

“What is this link everyone’s spamming chat? You all know if you start spamming, we’re going to mute you.” Max asks, frustration evident in his voice. 

Lando glances over at the chat screen on his second monitor and sees his name flying by along with what looks like an instagram link. He knows he shouldn’t click on dodgy links but curiosity gets the best of him because at the same time the chat starts to explode, so do his notifications from Instagram. “The fuck?” He mumbles, ignoring Max who is reading the chat as they come in. 

“First Verstappen steals your championship, now he’s stealing your girl? Chat, what the fuck are you all on about?” 

Lando can feel the heat rising in his face and he’s instantly thankful that he’s got his video off. He mutes himself quickly too before texting Max, who is desperately trying to regain control of the chat. The link finally opens and Lando nearly drops his phone. He’s been tagged in a series of photos that show you and Max walking out of the gallery together, then you two stopped in the middle of the sidewalk embracing with you clearly looking upset, and then a final one showing you two walking away together. 

Anger flares bright and sharp in his chest as he looks at the photos. You’re making him look like a fool, galavanting around town with the likes of Max Verstappen late at night, especially after all he went thorough with Max last season. What the fuck were you thinking?

“Alright, chat I think that’s going to be the end of the stream tonight. This is why we can’t have nice things!” 

Max ends the stream without a second thought, knowing that Lando is going to be incandescent with rage after seeing those photos and reading all the comments. 

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source First he steals the championship, now it looks like Max Verstappen is making a play for @/lando's girl. Uh ooooooh... user9928 I mean, she looked pretty upset in the other pictures I saw leaving the gallery. Lando didn't show to support her so... user298 paddock bunnies gonna bunny >>>user223 she's literally known Max almost her entire life??? user110 this isn't a thing...her and Max have been friends for YEARS. Leave the poor girl alone user1008 lando's loss, she's amazing. user918 idk but if my girl got caught getting a kiss from another guy, I'd go scorched earth >>>user028 SERIOUSLY I am floored by the people defending her??? Like??? >>>user928 maybe if Lando showed up for his girlfriend, Max wouldn't have had to step in and comfort her...?

As Lando struggles to come to grips with what he just saw, you and Max are standing in the lobby of your apartment as you desperately search for your keys. “Fuck, I think I forgot my keys upstairs.” 

“Just give Lando a call, I’m sure he’s still up.” 

You shrug, cheeks heating. “He sometimes gets tunnel vision when he’s streaming and forgets to check his phone.” You admit, not wanting to go more into detail because you know how bad it’ll sound if you have to tell Max that sometimes Lando will completely ignore you while he’s streaming. What you also don’t tell him is that this has happened to you before and all three times, you’d had to spend the night at either Jade or Charles’ house because he had been on stream so late you had nearly fallen asleep in the hallway. 

Max levels a glare at you, unable to believe what you’re saying. “Well, lets both go up then and maybe we can get his attention by knocking.” 

Anxiety ripples through you as Max starts off towards the elevators, giving you no other choice but to follow him. It’s a quiet ride up to your floor as you fidget with the hem of your shirt, unable to even attempt to make small talk with Max. You know the facade of your entire relationship is about to be lifted right in front of one of your oldest friends and you don’t quite know how to make it stop. 

When you raise your hand to knock, your heart hammers in your chest so wildly you momentarily worry Max is going to be concerned for your health. Much to your surprise, it only takes a few short moments for the door to swing open so fast you nearly stumble back. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Lando spits when his eyes land on Max. The venom in his voice is so shocking you need to take a step away, unintentionally stepping closer to Max, which seems to set Lando off even more. Rage flares in his eyes at your proximity to his on-track rival. 

“That’s a wild way to say ‘hey man, thanks for walking my girlfriend home in the dark because I couldn’t be bothered to show up to her art show’ but you’re welcome.” Max grits out, taking one step closer to you as if he might need to get between you and Lando. 

Tension hangs thick between the three of you as Lando seethes where he stands in the door. 

“Max, it’s okay.” You whisper, shame lighting a painful spark of fire deep in your chest. This was going to get out of control so quickly. 

“No, it’s not and you know it.” Max turns back to Lando now, eyes blazing with a level of anger that is miles more intense than the look Lando is giving you. “And why the fuck are you coming at her so hot? All I did was walk her home.” 

Lando scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Because this was just posted by almost a dozen gossip accounts and was being spammed all over Fewtrell’s chat while we were streaming.” 

You take the phone Lando is brandishing in your face and go pale. The carousel of photos in the new post are pretty damning, you have to admit but you would have thought that your boyfriend of all people would know better than to blindly believe a series of grainy photos above trusting his own girlfriend. 

“Lando…” You sooth, arm reaching out to touch his elbow. You wince when he pulls away from you. “You of all people should know how those things are twisted. Max was just walking me home and we were talking, that’s it.” 

“But why was he hugging you?” He shows you the third picture of Max hugging you after you had started crying out on the street. You had to admit you were kind of impressed with how fast those photos got out, but it was Monaco after all and you hand’t exactly been discreet when you were upset with Max. 

“Because she was upset you didn’t show up for her. Again!” Max shouts and you flinch.

 The words slice a fresh wound across your heart. The fact that Max knew that this wasn’t the first time upsets you more than you think it should. You’re not entirely sure why Max’s opinion of you matters so much but you’re not quite willing to examine those feelings yet. 

Lando’s glare swings away from you and back onto Max. “Because I’ve been to a million of them and they’re all the same. Same pretentious people pretending they have taste. Once you’ve been to one you’ve been to them all.” 

The words that come out of your boyfriend’s mouth have you audibly gasping, hand flying to your throat. “Lando.” You whisper, pain and shock coursing through your voice. 

You swear you feel a brush of fingertips on the small of your back but the touch is so light and so quick you think you’ve imagined it. 

Something flickers behind your boyfriend’s eyes then and it’s almost like he realizes he’s gone a step too far. His shoulders sag and he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry baby.” Lando reaches for you and before you can step away, he pulls you into his chest. He doesn’t miss the way you stiffen in his embrace though and neither does Max. “Please come inside and we can talk about it alone, okay?” He whispers, glaring at Max, clearly dismissing him. 

The way his arms used to feel around you was comforting, you’d seek his affection when you were anxious or upset and he would always take care of you but somewhere along the line, the affection you craved stopped being handed out so easily. Now, you craved it but only because if he was touching you it meant he wasn’t mad at you and maybe this time it would be different. Every time he showed you this kind of affection you hoped that this would be the time he would change. 

It never was. 

“Thank you for walking me home, Max. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” 

Worry lines crease the spot between his brows as he frowns. Everything in his body is screaming to put up a fight and not let you go inside with Lando. He knows if Charles were here and had just witnessed what he had, there was no way Lando would be leaving this building in anything other than a body bag but he wasn’t Charles and he didn’t have any entitlement to you. He wanted to fight but you weren’t his to fight for. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay Dovie?” 

Lando’s arms tighten around you at the nickname. He hates it and Max knows it. “She won’t need to, I’ve got her.” 

“You sure about that, mate?” Max asks, one brow tipping up in question. 

Without waiting for a reply, Max turns on his heel and walks towards the elevator. In his pocket, his fingers curl around his phone because the moment he gets out of the building he knows exactly who he’s going to be calling: Charles. 

As soon as Max leaves and your behind closed doors, the mask slips again. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, walking home with Max fucking Verstappen? And hugging him?” Lando is pacing the floor of your living room as you stand there, helpless to say anything against his raging. 

It’s usually like this when he gets angry with you and you’ve gotten good at being quiet while he rages. You have to let him work out all the anger and eventually you know he’ll calm down and apologizes for losing his temper. You’ve seen this before and you know exactly what to do, how to humor the angry beast that has surfaced once again. 

“Lando, it wasn’t like that and you know it.” You fight to keep the exasperation out of your voice, knowing that would just set him off even more. “I was alone, my brothers were going in the opposite direction, and Max offered. That’s it! It was completely innocent.” Despite yourself, you try to reason with him.

“You should have just gone home with your brothers then instead of putting yourself in that position.” He snaps and you glare at him. 

“You would have rather me not slept here at home tonight than take an offer from a friend to walk me home? All because you didn’t follow through with what you said you’d do?” 

You know you’re pushing him and Lando doesn’t like to be pushed. Your conversation with Charles two weeks ago flickers through your mind. How you deserve better and it strikes you then that everyone but you can see it. Everyone around you, everyone that loves you can see how bad he is for you, how poorly he treats you and how much you’ve changed since you started dating him. 

You supposed that if you had changed for the better, maybe everyone who loved you wouldn’t have anything to say. Don’t people change for the people they love all the time? You were sure they did but you weren’t sure you liked the change you saw in yourself anymore. You couldn’t fight it, this change that felt like you were wearing shoes that were three sizes too small for your feet. Like you had outgrown yourself in a way that wasn’t okay and you somehow needed to find your way back to who you were before Lando. Before he broke you. 

“And avoid you causing social media chaos that I’m going to be dealing with for weeks now?” Lando sneers, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down his nose at you. “Yeah, absolutely.” 

You laugh, cold and bitter, as you shake your head. “Thats real nice Lan, real nice.” 

“I’m just saying. Now the rumor mills are going to start up again. Whenever you’re at a race, people will be watching to see if you’re with Max again. Or maybe next time it’ll be Lewis. Or maybe you want to go a bit younger? Get a ‘friendly escort home’ from one of the rookies? I’m sure Franco would love to try his hand with you. My girlfriend, the paddock bunny being passed around.” 

The ache in your chest grows as he chooses his words carefully, barbed and sharp as glass, so they hit their intending target, cutting through you like butter and causing mortal damage.

“You don’t have to be so mean.” You whisper. “I’m sorry that the pictures hurt your feelings and were taken out of context but you don’t have to be so mean.” 

Tears threaten to spill and you will them to stop, knowing that will only fuel Lando’s fire. He loves when he upsets you like this, when he gets to tell you what a drama queen you are. Just like your brother, he would say, always whining and crying on the radio about how Carlos wasn’t being a team player and letting him win when he didn’t deserve it. 

“If I’m not the one to give you a reality check, then who will? Your entire family has coddled you for your entire life and you think you deserve some level of respect that you haven’t earned. If you deserved that kind of respect, you would have gone home with your brothers or walked home alone. People who deserve respect don’t put their relationships in jeopardy because they’re afraid to be alone at night.” 

“Put our relationship in jeopardy?” You laugh again, rolling your eyes at the audacity of what Lando is saying. “Lan, you really are being a bit over dramatic here, don’t you think? I’m sure the PR department at McLaren will take care of this by the next race, no big deal.” 

Lando laughs, dark and bitter as he takes a step towards you. You have to fight the urge not to flinch when he gets closer to you. Deep down, you know he’d never raise a hand to you but it’s hard to remember that when he gets in your face like this. “Now you expect McLaren to clean up your mess?” He hisses. “God, you really are a spoiled little girl, aren’t you?” 

“I’m just trying to find a solution to the problem that I seem to have caused.” You snap back, courage flaring in your chest as you stand up a little straighter. Max’s words from earlier play back in your head: ‘anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship’. “What if I come to the next race? If the two of us turn up in the paddock together, that will help quiet the rumors, don’t you think?” 

Lando narrows his eyes, “So you can get more attention from Max? Absolutely not. I’ll have McLaren handle this, okay? Just forget about it.” 

You want to scream at his solution because it was the same exact thing you had literally just suggested and been laughed at. But that was the way Lando was. If it wasn’t his idea, it was the worst thing you could have suggested. As long as it was his idea though, it was brilliant and the perfect solution to everything that was wrong. You should have anticipated this coming but you knew it was useless to fight with him. 

All at once, your body is overcome with this total wash of exhaustion. Total mental and physical exhaustion grips at your throat and you sway on your feet. “I’m going to go to bed.” You choke you. “In the guest room.” You tack on before turning on your heel and walking away from the fight like you do every time. Lando always gets the last word and as he stands there alone in the living room he feels like he’s won this one. He’ll have to call Sophie in the morning to get her to start working on damage control but for now? For now, he’s sure you realize your mistakes and you won’t put a toe out of line like that for a long time. 

Little does he know that all he’d done tonight was push you past your breaking point. 

(Quick note!!! If you want to be added to the tag list, I absolutely will but when you request that, can you pleeeeease let me know if you want to be on my general tag list or just the specific fic you're commenting on. ❤️)

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[imsobadatnicknames2]

ok but i need the evrart claire essay

Okay just be warned that this is gonna be less of an "essay" and more of a loose collection of thoughts, and I don't know how fresh or novel any of these ideas are going to be when it pertains to popular Disco Elysium fan discourse because I don't really do fandom, you know?

Anyway, I think the most obvious factet of Evrart's character is how he very intentionally calls to mind a caricature of corrupt union leaders, the image of a sleazy mobster who only cares about his own personal gain but pays lip service to leftist politics and pretends to care about the interests of workers as a way to obtain and maintain his power. And I think a lot of people straightforwardly read him as such, because that's the way he carries himself and the type of character the game is riffing on. There's also the question of how much of Evrart's manipulative, duplicitous attitude is just how he normally acts and how much of it is him specifically acting that way towards Harry and Kim specifically, it's important to have in mind that your main character is a cop and that would definitely play a role in making Evrart go out of his way to be a bit more of a bastard and toy with you a bit before he decides to actually do anything helpful.

However, once you dig a little deeper into his characterization, it becomes clear that he's pulling a very interesting double bluff, because it becomes apparent that the shady mobster who only cares about his personal gain is an act he's putting on. He's very self-aware about the fact that he's playing the villain, he seems to actively revel in it, but ultimately, it seems like he does it because playing the villain is the way he gets shit done.

This is not to say he's not actually corrupt, or that he's not ALSO involved in all sorts of shady stuff and taking advantage of his position of power, but the game does make it apparent that on some level he DOES have the interests of the people of Martinaise at heart.

For example, it is textually stated that the harbor doesn't need a night watchman, and Evrart created the position specifically to provide a source of income for René. He knows the pension Rene gets is not enough for him to live on, but he's also aware that René is the sort of right-wing guy who would rather starve to death than take a handout (especially from those dirty union commies), so Evrart created a job position which pretty much involves doing nothing for a few hours every night so he could help him with his economic troubles in a way he wouldn't refuse out of principle. René hates his guts, ideologically stands against everything his organization represents, and is generally an unlikeable asshole and a fascist prick, but he's also a disadvantaged member of the community and that seems to matter more.

Even when he asks you to get the signatures to build the community center, which is definitely one of the most morally questionable things he does during the events of the game (as it will improve the community, but at the same time displace the people from the fishing village), his intentions seem to be ultimately good. Due to the very nature of his character and the act he puts on, it's purposefully hard to tell when he's being sincere and when he's being manipulative. However, if Harry's drama and empathy skills are high enough when he's confronted about it, you'll be able to tell that he's not lying about his motives for wanting to build a community center or about the fact that he intends to provide better housing for the people displaced by the project, and that he feels genuine rage about their current living conditions. It can still be said that he's ignoring their self-determination and essentially forcing these people out of their current homes, but he does seem to have good intentions and think he's doing a good thing for them in the long run, even if his methods are morally questionable at best.

In that way, the Union is an extension of him in this regard too. They're pretty unapologetic about the fact that they're openly operating as a crime syndicate, but the game doesn't give you any reasons to believe they're lying when they say they're doing it as a way to muslce out all the more dangerous gangs and crime organizations out of Martinaise, or that their involvement in the drug trade is at least partially motivated by a desire to make sure it's not controlled by more dangerous and violent crime organizations. Again, they're playing the villain as a way to fill that power vacuum and make sure more dangerous people don't fill that role (but of course, that doesn't erase the fact that, noble as their intentions may be, they're still involved in all these shady activities and turning a pretty substantial profit from them too)

Of course, on the other hand, just because the game seems to hint at the fact that Evrart and the Union are, deep down, a force for good, doesn't erase the fact that he's done plenty of bad shit to further his interests, and the game doesn't shy away from this. He's still extremely corrupt, his long-term plan to wrestle control of the harbor away from the company and turn it into a worker-owned operation (which *would* massively improve the material conditions of the dockworkers if succesful) involves endangering the lives of a lot of his own workers, he and his brother Edgar pass the position of union foreman back and forth between each other to circumvent the term limit and keep themselves in power indefinitely, and if you explore all dialogue options with the Deserter it's all but explicitly stated that they rose to power by getting him to assassinate the previous Union forewoman.

These are things that Evrart himself would probably rationalize as sacrifices that need to be made for the greater good. After all, it is implied that the previous union forewoman was also corrupt, except in favor of the company's interests, and might have even been a company plant. However, this doesn't make those things morally right. Good intentions nonwithstanding, it's clear that the Claire brothers are very "the ends justify the means" kind of people, they probably see getting the previous Union leader killed or endangering the lives of the dockworkers to overthrow the company that exploits them as "pulling the lever" in the trolley problem, which is extremely callous at best.

Here's where we get a little more into "disjointed thoughts" territory, but Evrart can also be seen as a critique of the limits of trade unionism and social democrat politics. Something that I completely missed in my first playthrough but was able to catch on during my second is that the people of the fishing village refuse to unionize, and as a result they don't get the same level of support and protection that the union provides to the people of the more urban section of Martinaise. This is apparently widely known enough for characters other than Evrart to comment on (I forget what character I learned this from, but it was definitely not Evrart). So it's clear that Evrart and the Union put their interests of the members of their own organization over those of other working class people, which is one criticism that can be leveraged against the way a lot of leftists seem to treat unions as the ultimate tool for worker class liberation.

Similarly, when Evrart tells you his long-term plans, it's clear that his ultimate goals don't involve complete worker liberation. As far as the game shows, he's a socdem who's still looking to work within the confines of capitalism. There are more radically left wing characters in Disco Elysium, but Evrart is the only one with any actual power to affect change, which kinda speaks to the lack of presence of more hardline leftist positions in mainstream politics. As someone living in Latin America, I kinda ended up seeing a bit of a lot of our currrent socdem politicians in him in that respect, I guess, but i'd need more time to articulate this thought properly, I guess.

Ultimately, I think Evrart is an amazingly crafted character. He evokes a well-known archetype of a shady, corrupt, power-hungry union leader, but he adds a lot of depth, self-awareness, and nuance to it and subverts that characterization in several ways. I think he atually serves an important role of ideologically challenging players who share the developers' and writers' political leanings. I think it would have been very self-congratulatory and autocomplacent to make the most influential leftist character in the game an unambiguously good paragon of workers' rights and working class liberation. By instead giving us someone who's an absolute callous bastard who definitely has a bit of blood on his hands, who's a socdem at best and a self-serving mob boss at worst, but can ultimately be interpreted as a force for good, and asking the players to decide what they think of him I think it brings interesting questions to the table of our commitment to material gains, what sorts of people we're willing to work with, and the sort of acts we're willing to tolerate, and makes the game a lot more thematically rich.

I also think a good analysis of Evrart is incomplete without an analysis of the ways in which he serves a a charater foil for Joyce, but I don't feel like getting into that rn.

[vinylfoxbooks]

December 4 - Allergic | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 479

“I’m allergic to cats, you asshole!” Sirius screeches when his brother jumps up onto his lap, “I don’t care if its’ in animagus form, you have fucking cat germs and issues.”

“Sirius?” Lily asks, walking into the common room, “Why are you yelling at a cat?” 

Sirius pouts, “It’s James’ fucking cat and he hates me. I’m allergic to cats his favourite activity is to fucking jump on my lap and scratch me when James isn’t around.” 

“James has a cat?” 

He groans, “Yeah, it’s one of the cats around the castle that just wanders in sometimes. His favourite person is James, so he’s James’ cat- OW, you dick,” he sneers at the cat, “Get off my fucking lap, James is going to be here any minute.” The cat hisses at him, bringing his claws out and starting to make biscuits on his thigh, “That fucking hurts, dude.” 

“Do you think the cat hates you because you hate it?” 

Sirius shakes his head, “No, I don’t hate him, I just think that this cat can hear and knows that I don’t want to be around cats.” 

“How unfortunate is it to be allergic to cats and live in a castle where there are so many cats just wandering around.” Pete comments, walking up to the couch that Sirius is pinned to by the cat, reaching down to pet it and getting scratched immediately, pulling his hand away. 

“I’m just glad that I’m not going to die from it,” Sirius shakes his head. Just as he finishes, the portrait swings open and James stroll into the room, smiling when they see the cat in Sirius’ lap. 

“Leo!” They cheer, walking to grab the little black cat from their best friend’s lap, bringing the cat to their face and pressing a kiss to his little forehead. They turn back to Sirius and Pete, “He wasn’t too hard on you guys, was he?” 

“He’s always an asshole to me,” Sirius pouts. James laughs gently, moving their hold on the cat so he’s cradled in their arms, nods to Lily, and heads up towards the dorm. 

As soon as they’re in the dorm, Regulus jumps down from James’ arms and transforms, pulling them to his chest once he has his bearings. James smiles down at him, “You can’t just bully your brother when I’m not there.”

“I’m his brother, I can do as I please to him,” 

“He’s allergic to cats, and I really don’t want to have to deal with him complaining that he can’t breathe for the rest of the day because you’re being a dick.” 

Regulus shrugs, “I don’t have to deal with it, so it’s not my problem.” 

James rolls their eyes, leaning down to kiss him gently before pulling away and heading to put their cloak down on their bed, “You’re ridiculous.” 

“You love me.”

“For some reason.”

[nyxofdemons]

i cannot get over the way that blitz screams "LET'S GO" like he WANTS to fight with him, like he's ASKING stolas to lash out at him and tell him blitz is right, stolas DOES think he's insignificant and he wants him gone if blitz doesn't accept his feelings immediately, just so blitz has a reason to keep being angry and vent out everything bottled up inside of him.

i think all of this comes back to how blitz would rather people hate him than miss him, because at least then he feels like he's getting what he deserves, and he will actively sabotage relationships to MAKE people hate him so he knows they have a good reason - like his breakup with verosika and everything he did to her. if he GIVES her a reason to hate his guts then he gets to know exactly what it is he did wrong, and it's not just because of who he is fundamentally that's so despicable. i think he's TRYING to do the same thing with stolas here - on some level his anger is justified, of course, but i don't think this is entirely that. i think he's trying to provoke stolas into lashing out at him so they can have a huge argument, and blitz can make him feel as small as he does right now, and if stolas gets angry and hates him for whatever cruel things he's going to say, then blitz gets proof that stolas doesn't really love him, gives his self-loathing monster a taste of validation by knowing he is definitely the reason that all of this fell apart, and reaffirms his own warped self-image that he is incapable of receiving love or creating a good relationship.

blitz isn't expecting stolas to take him at his word - that this is nothing more than sex, and he actually thinks of stolas as nothing more than a privileged rich asshole he HAS to put up with - he's expecting stolas to fight back so blitz can keep yelling. but stolas loves him too much to lash out (at least right now,) and he's so aware of the power imbalance between them and feels too guilty about their transactional relationship to try and argue. HE'S being entirely honest about his feelings (and he's distraught and off his meds), so he's assuming that blitz is being honest, too - he really can't stand stolas, and he's been perceiving their interactions as stolas' classism being malicious rather than simply ignorant, so of course there's no way blitz would ever want to be with him. and blitz can't grasp that stolas genuinely cares, and doesn't want to fight with him, until it's too late to backtrack.

[madebycloud]

pt 3 | Not Even at All

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬⠀𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: vi is off limits until her sister gets a date that doesn't end within the first ten minutes. eager to date vi, a certain girl approaches you with a proposal. date jinx. win her over. and for your efforts, she's willing to be generous. (10 Things I Hate About You AU) warnings/themes: fluff and slight angst, kinda enemies to what, one sided fake dating, highschool, modern au, kat!jinx, patrick!reader words: 7.5k notes: took this long enough bcz uni sucks — ✩ part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

Jinx storms into her classroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

She's only been inside for a few seconds when one shithead student leans back, sneering. “Jinx, me lady, you sway to the rhythm of me heart,” he mocks, his friends laughing along.

Another adds, “Yeah, give us a private performance, babe!”

Another one shouts from across the row, “How much for a personal dance, cowgirl?”

Some asshole from the party filmed her drunken dance and uploaded it, and now she's the hot topic around school.

“Piss off, dipshits,” she mutters, dropping her backpack on her desk and throwing herself into her chair.

Mr. Salo walks into the class, a stack of papers in his hand. “How was everyone's weekend?” He set the papers down on his desk.

One of the boys pipes up, his friends snickering as they elbow him in the ribs. “Maybe we should ask Jinx.”

Before Jinx can respond, Mr. Salo cuts in, “Unless she kicked the crap out of your butt, I don't want to hear about it.”

—

You shuffle into the classroom late as usual, trying to ignore the way Mr. Salo's eye twitches as you drop into your desk. Immediately you glance over to where Jinx usually sits.

Jinx lifts her head, her eyes shifting across the room. At the whiteboard. At the ceiling. At her textbook. Anywhere but you.

“We're continuing our lesson today,” Mr. Salo announces, grabbing your attention. “Open your books to page seventy-three, and we'll get started.”

You rummage through your backpack, shoving your textbooks and notes and empty crisp packets out of the way. You manage to wrangle out the battered copy of the textbook. 

Mr. Salo clears his throat, addressing the class. “We'll be doing something a little different today. I want you all to write your own version of Shakespeare's Sonnet 141.”

Groans echo across the classroom.

You don't really blame them—doing it like this on Monday? not only that, it's english class. Nobody in this room can be bothered to do any work right now, least of all thinking of a way to make an assignment interesting.

“As you work on your assignments,” Mr. Salo continues, “remember this is meant to be a creative, expressive project. I expect everyone to think outside the box for this one.”

Creative and expressive? What could be so creative and expressive about an old ass Shakespeare sonnet.

While the rest of the class starts writing, you open the assigned page and squint at the poem, silently reading it to yourself.

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes. For they in thee a thousand errors note.

How in the hell are you supposed to come up with anything creative for something like this?

But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise.

You read out the next line, drumming your fingers against the edge of your desk.

Who, in despite of view, are pleas'd to dote.

This whole assignment seems like a bunch of pretentious bullshit.

—

“You actually went to the party?” Lux asks, eyeing the menu on the counter. “I thought we were officially opposed to suburban social activity.”

Jinx gives a half-shrug. “I didn't have much of a choice.”

“You didn't have a choice,” Lux repeats mockingly. “What'd they hold you at gunpoint or what?”

Jinx cringes, avoiding Lux's gaze. “I did Vi a favor, and it backfired.”

Lux's eyes widen. “You didn’t…”

“I got drunk. I puked. I got rejected. It was big fun.”

—

You enter the diner, making your way towards the counter to order.

Wait a damn minute.

Is that Jinx?

You smirk, approaching Jinx. “Hey,” you greet, lifting a hand.

Jinx doesn't reply. She shoves a handful of items into her backpack, not even sparing you a glance before she takes off out the door. 

You furrow your brow, turning back to look at her friend (Lux, you think her name is?), who just shrugs apologetically before following Jinx out the door.

You stand in the diner for a solid ten seconds.

What the hell?

Did she just... ignore you like that?

You blink a couple times, staring at the door Jinx just walked out of.

Just what the hell?

—

You sit on the bleachers watching the girls soccer team practice. You spot Jinx kicking the ball around with a few of her teammates.

“What'd you do to her?” Cait asks on the other end.

“I don't know,” is your honest answer. A pause. “I decided not to take advantage of her.”

“You realize that pretty much ruins our deal, right?”

“Yeah, no kidding," you reply. “She won't even look at me.”

“Why can't you just tell her you're sorry?"

“Because she's been doing nothing but avoiding me,” you explain. “I'm not sure she even knows I exist anymore.”

“Of course she knows. It's not like she doesn't remember who you are,” Caitlyn points out. “Did you at least apologize?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Because she'd probably break my nose if I was within a 10-foot radius of her right now,” you retort.

Caitlyn sighs. “You're an idiot.”

“I'm aware.” 

“You need to apologize,” she says. “Soon. Otherwise this entire thing is going to blow up in our faces, and neither of us is going to get anything out of it.”

“She just needs time to cool off,” you say, nodding. “I'll give it a day.”

And suddenly—

THWAP!

A soccer ball goes flying past your head. You flinch so hard you nearly fall off the bleachers. You twist around to see who threw the damn thing.

Jinx.

“...maybe two,” you correct yourself, watching her get back to practice.

You rub your forehead where the ball almost hit you, frowning as you watch her play. You knew she could aim, but holy moly. If that had hit you, it would have probably left a bruise.

Well, at least you know she hasn't completely forgotten who you are. So… progress?

—

Jinx and Lux walk through the courtyard when Jinx sees a flyer for prom taped to the nearby wall. She rips the flyer off the wall, crumpling it in her hands before tossing it to the ground.

A girl next to the wall, who was holding a stack of flyers, let out a gasp. “Hey!” 

Jinx doesn't even glance in her direction as she keeps walking, shaking her head. She turns to Lux. “Can you imagine who would even go to that antiquated mating ritual?”

Lux raises her hand. “I guess I would. But I don't have a date,” she admits.

“Why would you want to go to prom?”

Lux shrugs. “It's the last time we'll all be together as seniors-”

“You really want to get all dolled up so some guy with a cheap Walmart suit and a boner shoved down his pants can grab your ass all night while you're forced to listen to a band that, by definition, sucks?”

“Okay, okay, I guess we won't go. It's not like I have a dress or anything.”

Jinx smirks. “You're looking at this from entirely the wrong perspective. We're not just skipping prom. We're making a statement.”

“Oh, goody. Something new and different for us.”

“We're not some mindless sheep, going through the motions of senior year just because we're expected to-”

“Apart from studying for exams and turning in assignments,” Lux comments.

Jinx shoots her a scowl. “You're ruining my monologue.”

“Sorry,” Lux says, still smiling.

“As I was saying,” Jinx continues. “We're not just skipping prom to sit at home all night... we're making a statement. We're rebels. We're refusing to go through the boring, pointless motions of senior year like the other sheep, like every other senior year before us.”

—

You meet up with Caitlyn, who looks like she's getting just as frustrated and restless as you are with this entire situation. 

Jinx has been refusing to even acknowledge your existence, and it's been a week since she last spoke to you—if you even count a soccer ball being whipped at your head as a form of communication.

And you're not sure you even want to bother anymore. This is stupid.

But Caitlyn is just as persistent and desperate as ever.

“Your school's having prom soon, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Caitlyn hands you a stack of 200 dollar bills, pushing it into your chest. “Take her to prom.”

”No,” you reply, shoving her hand away. “I don't care, Cait. Can't do this anymore. Its sick-”

“Come on, 300 bucks.”

You push her hand away for the second time. “I thought you wanted out.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed. Vi kissed me,” she says. “We're not together yet.. but I think we're close. The only thing holding Vi back right now is her sister.” Caitlyn pushes the three-hundred dollar bill into your palm and closes your fingers over the money. “That's why I need you to do this now. Come on… help a friend out?”

You look at the money in your palm, then at Caitlyn.

“Fine.”

—

You figure you can't make things much worse than they already are and decide to find Jinx at the record store.

After some searching, you eventually find her standing in the guitar section, admiring an electric guitar. Complete with strap, of course. She fits the headphones over her ears, then sits on one of the stools nearby.

You slip your hands into your pockets, quietly approaching her from behind to talk and—

Wait.

You pause a few feet away, watching her.

Jinx looks… content. Comfortable, at least. Her eyes are closed, and she's slowly bobbing her head to whatever music is playing through the headphones.

You open your mouth to speak, to say sorry and get all this done and over with. But…

No. No. You can't—won't—disturb her when she's comfortable and, dare you even think it... too peaceful. Too calm. You're not going to take that from her.

So you quietly back away, deciding to leave her alone.

—

You wander down the section of vinyl and CDs, scanning the titles on display. You spot Jinx across the way and decide to follow her, ducking your head to watch her walk across the shelf.

Once she turns the corner, you end up right in front of her.

“Excuse me. Have you seen Collide with the Sky? I'm looking for the vinyl.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And what are you doing here?”

“I heard there's a sale going on,” you lie.

“You're so…” she starts, her eyes narrowing.

“Charming?” You cut her off with a grin, only for Jinx to roll her eyes—not amused at all, and walk away. “Wholesome?“

She stops in her tracks, turning to look at you. “Unwelcome.”

You step closer. “You're not as mean as you think you are.”

She looks at you head to toe and scowls. “And you're not as badass as you think you are.”

“OOO,” you drawl. “Someone's still got their panties in a twist.”

“Don't for one minute think you had any effect on my anything, let alone my panties. Moron.”

“Then what did I have an effect on?”

She turns away from you, rifling through the vinyl. “Other than making me want to puke? Nothing.” She shoves one into your hands and pushes past you, knocking you back a step as she storms out of the record store.

You glance down at the vinyl she shoved into your hands. Collide with the Sky.

—

You sit at a table in the cafeteria, typing out a message on your phone and sending it to Caitlyn. “she's still pissed.” You hit send before taking a bite of your lunch.

Almost instantly, you get a notification. Caitlyn reacted to your message with a haha. A message bubble appears, then disappears.

You type out another message. “i can hardly ask her to prom if she's still pissed at me.”

She responds in mere seconds. “I have an idea.”

“what is it?” you type back.

“Sing a romantic song for her.”

“you want me to die that badly?” you reply. “do you really think that will work?”

“Yes.”

You toss your phone to the side, picking at your food again. Singing a romantic song to Jinx? that's ridiculous.

Your phone buzzes again. “Come on. Do it. You've got nothing to lose.”

You pick up your phone and type out a response. “besides my pride, self-respect, and maybe even my life?”

“Stop being a pussy. Just do it. I double dog dare you.”

—

You approach Ekko's locker as he closes it with a slam. You clear your throat and give him a smirk. 

“You again?” he says before turning to look at you. “What do you want now?”

You pause, glancing around the hallway to make sure no other students are within earshot. The coast looks clear, so you turn to face Ekko again. “You lead the marching band, right?” 

“So?”

You hold up a one hundred dollar bill. “Play a song.” You notice his gaze flick back and forth between the stack of cash and your face.

He clenches his jaw but takes the bill nonetheless. “What song?”

—

You look out over the school field as the girls' soccer team and marching band members practice below.

You scan the controls for the school's stadium audio before plucking the cordless microphone off its stand. You find the switch labeled FIELD MIC ANNOUNCE and turn it up.

The mic is on. You hear some feedback when you bring it to your lips. Here goes nothing. 

“You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you,” you begin to sing, stepping out through the stadium's audio control room and into the open air. Your voice echoes from the speakers all over the open field. “You'd be like Heaven to touch. I wanna hold you so much. At long last love has arrived…”

The soccer team and the marching band members look up at the sound of your voice. Some of them stop to see where the singing was coming from.

“And I thank God, I'm alive. You're just too good to be true.” You step into view, scanning across the open field and finally spotting Jinx in the crowd.

She's standing in the field with the rest of the soccer team, and she's already looking at you.

“Can't take my eyes off youuuu,” you point directly at her, a huge grin stretching across your face.

With a whistle from Ekko, the marching band takes their cue and starts playing.

The noise catches Jinx's attention, and she turns away from you to look at the band playing. Realizing that something is going on, she glances back and forth between the band and then to you before breaking out into a chuckle.

“I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright. I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night,” you sing, making your way over towards the home bleachers and sitting down on one of the steps. “I love you, baby, trust in me when I sayyy.”

You keep going with your performance, dancing around the bleachers while singing.

The two guards arrive to grab you, but not before the crowd claps to your performance.

You finally break out of their grip and continue singing. You even sneak in a pat on one guard's ass on your way past them, then run away with a huge grin on your face.

—

And, as expected, you end up in detention after that.

The room is quiet, and you rest your head against the surface of the table, closing your eyes.

Mrs. Medarda walks around the room, occasionally glancing around to make sure they're behaving. She stops at the desk next to yours. “You look pretty nervous.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He nods anxiously.

“You're sweating like a pig,” she notes, eyeing the boy.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Your eyes are all... bloodshot.”

“Yes, m-ma'am,” he stutters.

“You've got pot, don't you?”

The boy pales but reluctantly holds out his hand and places the weed into her open palm.

“I'm confiscating this,” she says, turning around and placing the weed on the front desk.

You hear the creaking sound of the classroom door opening, followed by Jinx's voice. “Coach Medarda…” She clears her throat. “I have some ideas on how we can improve the girls' soccer team.”

Mrs. Medarda turns her head towards Jinx. “Let's talk about it later,” she replies before turning away once again.

Jinx turns to you and whispers loudly, “Window! Now!”

“Window?!” you whisper shout back. The hell does she mean, window?

Mrs. Medarda turns back to Jinx, who gives a nervous laugh. “As you know, we have a huge game against the Noxus High Scorpions upcoming.”

You quickly grab your bag and move to the side of the room without Mrs. Medarda noticing.

Mrs. Medarda begins to turn in your direction, but Jinx grabs her arm to keep her from turning around completely.

“Your bicep is huge! Holy crap!” Jinx exclaims, grabbing Mrs. Medarda's other arm. “The other one's even bigger. Do you take steroids or something? I've heard steroids can really mess you up, like make your-”

“Jinx.” Mrs. Medarda interrupts her.

“Uh, that's not the point.”

“Let's hope not.”

When you make a loud creak, Mrs. Medarda cranes her neck to look at you, but Jinx grabs Mrs. Medarda's arm again to stop her from turning around. 

“So, the point is,” Jinx chimes in, “they beat us every single time. And this year, I think I have a plan to actually win. You see…”

“And what might this plan be?” Mrs. Medarda asks.

You take a glance out the window. It's open, but it's a fair distance down from the second floor. Definitely would not be a pleasant drop. You spot a large tree in front of the window with its branches extended across it. That might work.

“You remember that drill you taught us?” Jinx continues.

“What drill?”

“Misdirection.”

Mrs. Medarda stops and thinks for a minute. “I taught you that?”

“Yep… anyway... that's not what's important right now.” 

Mrs. Medarda tries to turn away once more, but Jinx grabs her chin and spins her head right back.

“Think about it!” Jinx exclaims. “They're looking left, but we're running to the right and scoring points. Boom, we win!”

“Okay, but how do we get them to look left?”

You don't hear the rest of the conversation as you leap forward onto the large tree. You let out a yelp as you land. Just as you settle on one of the branches, a loud BOOM is heard from inside. A few seconds later, the window to the detention room lights up with a shower of multicolored sparks.

—

You watch as Jinx looks around, catching her breath. “She just left!” she pants. “I did all the hard work, and the dickhead left me.”

“Hey, sunshine,” you call down from the tree. “Look up.”

She cranes her head towards the tree, her eyes locking onto you.

“I have to admit, I'm afraid of heights,” you add.

“Oh,” Jinx looks up at the tree, shielding her eyes from the sun. “It's not that bad.”

“How would you know?” you ask, swinging your legs from the high branch you're perched on. “Try looking at it from my angle.”

She scans the branches and points to the one right below. “Put your right foot here-”

“Forget it,” you refuse. “I'm staying right here.”

She scoffs, then glances up at you again. “You want me to climb up there and show you how to get down myself?”

“Maybe.”

She sighs and climbs up the tree until she's right next to you on the branch.

You grin at her, then swing your legs down and hop to the ground, leaving her stuck on the high branch alone. “Catch ya later, sunshine,” you call up.

“You little...! Get back here, you shithead!” She jumps down from the tree and sprints after you.

—

The small, rented pedal boat rocks under your weight as it glides through the water. Jinx is sitting right next to you, both of you laughing as you try to make the boat go faster.

“Frankie Valli?” she asks between giggles.

“I figured it had to be something ridiculously cheesy to win your respect and piss you off.”

She snickers and continues pedaling. “Good call.”

“You are a terrible co-paddler, you know that?” you tease.

“You're the one pushing all the water around.”

“It would go faster if you helped out.”

“I am helping out!” Jinx protests. “I'm keeping the boat from tipping over.”

“More like you're making it tip over,” you counter.

“Hey!” She smacks your leg. “We'd be moving a lot faster if you pedaled, too.”

“You can't hit the coxswain like that!”

“Stop whining and pedal!”

Both of you laugh. “So I gotta ask,” you begin. “How'd you get Medarda to look the other way?”

“I blew up the whole detention room,” Jinx says nonchalantly.

You blink. “You blew it up? with what?”

Jinx shrugs, turning to look at you. “Fireworks.”

“Fireworks. Seriously.”

“Yeah... but they're never gonna find out who did it.”

You're not sure if you should be impressed or terrified. 

You continue to paddle around the sea together. You pause, looking around the sea before looking back at Jinx. “So what's your excuse?”

“Excuse for what?” Jinx asks, eyebrows raised.

“For acting the way you do,” you clarify.

She purses her lips in thought. “I just dislike meeting people's expectations.” She looks off to the side, out to the sea. “Why live up to other people's expectations when I can live the way I want to?”

You ponder her words, thinking over the way her mind works. “So you disappoint them from the start, and then you're covered, right?”

She nods. “Pretty much.”

“Then you screwed up.”

She frowns, her brow wrinkling. “How so?”

“You never disappointed me.”

Jinx turns and meets your gaze. After several seconds, a smile slowly forms on her lips, and soon a chuckle escapes her.

You look away, suddenly finding your shoes much more interesting. You try to fight back a smile of your own.

Your eyes flicker across the coast, spotting a paintball field in the distance. “You up for it?” you ask, nodding towards the field’s direction.

She follows your gaze. “Hell yeah.” 

—

SPLOP

The paintball bursts against your chest, splattering paint all over you. With a smirk, she sticks her tongue out at you.

You tilt your head and take aim. And then, FWUMP. The paintball hits her square in the stomach.

She gasps and grabs her stomach, looking at you in shock. “You asshole!” she yells, giggling. She runs toward one of the obstacles and ducks behind it. She then pops her head out from the obstacle and takes aim at you.

The paintball hits you on the shoulder, adding yet another blue splotch to the paint already decorating your protective clothing.

“Hey!” You quickly chase after her, the two of you running between the obstacles. She turns a corner, and you quickly round the corner after her, only to find… ah hah. There she is, cornered like a rat.

She holds up her hands in surrender, grinning at you. “Caught me.” 

“Yeah,” you reply, stepping closer. “You bet I did.” You sling your arm around her shoulders.

And then, without a second thought…

You smash a paintball against her head, leaving behind a bright blue splatter of paint on her hair.

She squeals and hides behind a nearby obstacle. “No fair!“

But you follow, throwing paintball after paintball, not letting her get away.

She pokes her head out to throw a paintball back at you. It hits you on the chest.

You both laugh as you run around the field, throwing paintball after paintball. You chase her around, she tries to run away, but you're faster. You lunge at her, taking her by surprise. The two of you fall onto a nearby bale of hay, you landing on top of her.

You both throw your protective goggles aside, laughing breathlessly while you both catch your breath.

You look down at Jinx, and…

Her face is flushed and streaked with paint. Her hair is tousled, some strands have fallen out of her braids.

You slowly reach out and cradle her face in your hand, running your thumb across her cheek. “Can I…”

She nods in response. Her eyes flutter shut as you lean in. Your lips meet Jinx's, and it’s…

It's like fireworks. Why does it feel so right?

Her lips are soft, and they taste like cherry lip balm. The fingers on her left hand slowly trail up your arm, making their way up to the back of your neck. The other hand clutches at the fabric of your paint-splattered clothes as she kisses you back, her tongue slipping into your mouth.

Her bangs swing forward, getting in the way of your kiss, causing her to pull away with a groan. You watch her brush her hair to the side and fix it back into place. “Here,” she huffs, pulling you back in with a tug around your neck, “let me try that again.”

You barely manage to get the word “sure” out before her lips are back on yours. Your hand slides up to the back of her head, your fingers slipping between her braids, grabbing a handful of hair, and tilting her head back to deepen the kiss.

It… it feels good. Really good. 

She smiles against your lips, then pulls back, her eyes hooded as she stares up at you.

You lean in to kiss her again when BAM! A paintball suddenly smashes against the side of your head.

What the fuuuck?! “Wha—Hey!” you shout. “You!”

Jinx laughs as she scrambles to her feet and runs off.

“I swear to god I am going to get you back for this,” you curse as you get to your feet.

—

Jinx walks out onto the paintball field, her forehead smeared in bright blue paint. “I think I should cut my hair,” she says, tossing her braided hair over her shoulder.

“Why's that?” You wipe a sweat off your forehead.

Jinx scratches her cheek. “Just kinda thinking about it,” she replies. 

You walk beside Jinx, the paintball field disappearing out of sight behind you. “Why have you got it so long?” You gesture to her braided hair.

“I've had it since I was a kid.” She reaches behind, grabbing one of her braids and resting it under her chin. “Never cut it after I…” Jinx pauses, then shakes her head. “Doesn't matter.”

“After what,” you ask, bumping your shoulder into Jinx's.

She glances back at you and lets go of her braid, letting it fall into place at her back. “Nothing, nothing,” she says, waving her hand.

“Your hair looks fine now. Why do you want to cut it?”

“I dunno... it's getting kinda long, I feel like it's holding me back.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Holding you back from..?”

“From changing.”

“Changing?”

Jinx nods. “Changing,” she repeats. “It's just… a fresh start, I guess.”

You hum, kicking a small rock with your foot as you follow Jinx's lead. “Anything specific you're thinking of?”

—

You stand outside the local hair salon, waiting impatiently for Jinx to come out. Jinx had shooed you out of the salon to wait while she freshened up her “look” as a surprise, or so she said.

Just when you're about to reach for your phone, you suddenly hear a voice behind you. “What do you think?”

You turn around and-

You blink. And blink again.

Wow.

Her long blue braids are now cut to her chin. She wasn't kidding when she said it was a surprise.

Goddamn. She's beautiful.

“Well?” Jinx asks, hands on her hips. “What do you think?”

You gawk at her for a moment too long, completely speechless. How can you even put your thoughts into words?

“It's-” your mouth feels dry. She looks... different. But the same. “Wow. That's-” Wow. “That's... Wow.” Your eyes scan over her shorter hair, down her face, her arms... everywhere. Everything about her looks just so… damn perfect.

Jinx grins. “You like it?”

Like it? Hell yes, you like it. You nod mutely, still at a loss for words.

“You look like you've been struck dumb,” Jinx jokes. She lightly punches your shoulder, making you stumble backwards a couple of steps. “Seriously, no comments?”

You try to form a sentence, but the only two words that come to mind are “holy” and “shit”.

Jinx laughs at you—either her laughter is adorable as hell, or you're completely losing your mind. Might be both, to be honest.

You quickly regain your wits and manage to regain control of your mouth. “Sorry,” you reply, sheepish. “You just... look really good. And the haircut… it's really-” You pause to gesture vaguely at her hair before continuing. “You look... different.”

“In a good way?”

Your ears grow hot. “In a good way.”

“I thought so.” Jinx slings her arm through yours. “Soooo,” she drawls, looking at you sideways, “about this massive collection of 2,000 CDs you have…”

Fuck. You forgot about that.

“I wanna see em,” she continues.

“Yeah… about that.” You laugh nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “I uhh… I mayyyyy have exaggerated a bit?”

—

“What is thiiiisss?”

“It's…” you start, before faltering mid-sentence. “My… grandmother’s birthday present.”

She looks at the CD and smiles widely. “No way.” She turns the case to show you the cover. “Madonna? Really?” Jinx looks at the cover in her hands—Celebration. Then she looks back up at you. “Aww,” she coos mockingly. Ugh.

You think back to the many times you’ve been forced to listen to Madonna songs when visiting your grandmother. Even now you can almost hear Material Girl playing in your mind.

“Ehhh, well, you know how it is,” you say awkwardly. “My grandma loves Madonna, so...” you finish lamely, shoulders lifting in a shrug.

She slowly walks as she looks at a few other items around your room. “You know,” she begins, “when you said you had a massive collection of CDs, I kinda got excited. I was like, maybe she's got a band I don't know. Or some really underground artist only people with good music taste know about. But…” she holds up the CD again. “Madonna? really?”

“It's not like I actually ever listen to this…” you complain, gesturing to the CD.

Jinx smiles and lifts an eyebrow at you.

“Okay, fine. When I'm cleaning my room, I always listen to that CD, but—listen—only to remind me of my grandmother. Not because I actually like it,” you continue.

She snickers, opening the jewel case with a click and removing the CD. When she walks to your stereo, you suddenly realize what she’s doing.

“Whoa, hey-!” you start, but Jinx is already inserting the CD into your stereo. You quickly rise to your feet, trying to stop her. “Maybe we should watch a movie or-”

A click echoes as Jinx closes the top of the stereo. A moment later, Madonna's Crazy for You begins playing, and you can feel yourself die inside.

You can imagine your grandparents dancing along to the music, singing along to the lyrics.

“God, no,” you say faintly, watching as Jinx moves to the center of the room and starts to swing her hips.

“Shh, come on!” she calls over her shoulder as she begins dancing. “Live a little!”

Is she drunk? no, she doesn't smell like alcohol, and you didn't see her drink anything. She's not exactly unsteady on her feet, either, her moves are too perfectly timed to the beat.

No, she's a hundred percent sober.

This was simply her.

‘Live a little,’ she says. Live a little.

Jinx is facing away from you, still dancing and moving her hips to the beat, but her head is turned to the side.

She looks… cute like that. Her eyes are closed, her face is upturned toward the ceiling, and she giggles as she dances.

She spins around, facing you at once. “Come on,” she says, a huge grin gracing her lips. She slowly extends her hand, reaching out to take yours in hers. “Dance with me.”

You know what? Screw it. You've come this far.

You may as well embrace the insanity.

She sees the moment you give in, and she takes full advantage of it, using her hand to pull you into the center of the room, where the light from outside is stronger.

She turns the volume up more. Her hands are still around yours, and she keeps them there for a moment before she lets go, leaving you to stand and dance awkwardly.

You have no idea what you're doing.

You're fairly sure your dancing is on par with drunken uncle at a wedding who hasn't been able to find the rhythm since the 80s, and if Jinx has noticed how terrible you are at dancing, she hasn't made any comment.

She just grins.

Despite your dance skill, or lack thereof, you're still dancing with Jinx.

Dancing with Jinx.

With Jinx.

This didn't even seem real.

Your mind starts to drift. You can picture yourself and Jinx, thirty years from now, old and grey, dancing around a family room in your future home.

You think about dancing with her, years from now. You think about growing old with her, dancing together around the room. Holding her hand, even as she's old and wrinkled and grey.

You wonder if your kids or pets or grandkids or whatever-the-fuck-you-have would be watching you two dance like crazy people like you are now. 

You wonder what she'd look like decades from now, and you find yourself surprised at the fact that she'd be just as beautiful. Just as attractive. Maybe even more.

You think about how to make her smile like she's smiling now.

Because that smile is worth a hell of a lot.

You wish you could see that smile more. Every single day, every single night, all you want to do is see her smile.

No, not 'want'

Need.

Wait.

What are you thinking?

You're getting ahead of yourself. Way, way ahead of yourself.

Jinx is still dancing, completely oblivious to the strange direction your thoughts are taking.

But even as you try to focus on the present—on what's happening now—your mind is refusing to cooperate.

Your eyes move on their own, traveling over her.

On her hair. On her face. On her hands. On her hips. On her legs. Her body, silhouetted in the bright light from the outside world.

She grins at you as she does a turn and swings her hips, and you try your best to keep up. She's so… so… herself.

She's not scared. She's not angry. She's not hiding herself behind layers upon layers of sarcasm and anger and hostility.

She's happy.

Jinx is happy. Not just “kind of” happy—fully, completely, unequivocally, truly, honestly happy.

That smile. That laugh. How she's so damn effortlessly herself and how goddamn carefree she is.

And she's so… beautiful.

You've dated girls before. You've had girlfriends before. You know what it's like to get close to someone, to be intimate, to kiss and hold each other in private.

But was it like this?

You've never felt like this before.

Never.

Nothing all-consuming, or overpowering, or soul-destroying, or devastating. There was never an intensity to them. A rush. A drive. There was never a connection, never a feeling of need.

But with Jinx...

This felt completely different. This felt so much more.

Like you were standing in a room with destiny.

Like you'd just seen the face of God.

Like your stomach turned into an entire gymnastics team.

Like your chest started feeling like a furnace.

Like your heart was suddenly playing a beat with a hundred times more BPMs than before.

Is this...

This.

Is this what love feels like?

...

If it's not love, then it's definitely an early sign of a heart attack.

—

You drive to her house. Jinx rolls down the car window, letting the wind blow through her short hair.

The song ‘Chasing Cars’ plays from the car radio.

And of course, Jinx wore one of your jackets. She must've snatched it right out of your closet when you weren't looking.

Not that you mind.

She happily chows down on some cotton candy you'd bought her from the gas station earlier and glances over at you. “I kinda like this,” she says between bites.

“You really like everything, don't you?”

“Who doesn't like sweet, sugary treats?” She holds the cotton candy out towards you. “Want a bite?”

You keep your hands on the wheel as you drive. “I'm good.”

Jinx shrugs and returns to munching on her cotton candy.

The wind is still blowing through her hair, occasionally blowing a few strands into her face, and Jinx keeps pushing them back. She groans, gives up and just lets the wind blow her hair around.

She finishes her cotton candy and crumples the empty paper and tosses it into the cup holder between you two. She leans back in her seat, her head tipped back as she looks at the clouds through the open window. “One day, I'm getting away from here.”

Did she mean away from the city? or away from her life?

“I wanna see the world,” she continues. “See everything.”

“What's stopping you?”

“My sister.” Jinx turns to look at you. “She... she hasn't quite found her place yet. I don't want to leave her on her own.”

“That's kind of you.”

She looks back out the open window. “I guess. When you don't have a lot, you don't want to leave people.”

You turn onto a side street, the car bumping along the bumpy road. “So where do you wanna go, if you could go anywhere?”

“Anywhere.” Jinx's hand sticks out the window, her fingers spread like she's catching the passing clouds. “I have a list of places I want to see.”

The car turns onto another street, and you look away to watch where you're driving. “And what's at the top of that list?"

Jinx's hand slips back in through the window, and she holds up a single finger. “Northern lights.”

“Northern lights,” you repeat.

“Northern lights,” Jinx affirms. “Have you ever seen them?”

You haven't. “Just in movies.”

“They're beautiful, and... I guess I want to see something breathtaking. I want to see something that'll take my breath away, because…”

“Because?”

“I've been feeling kinda... suffocated,” she says finally. “Like... Like there's this... pressure in my chest, a weight on my shoulders.”

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye. She's hunched over in her seat, her hair hiding her face. She's looking down at her hands.

“I just wanna see something that feels... I dunno. Freeing, I guess,” she says slowly. “Something that makes me feel light, like I can breathe without struggling or drowning.” Jinx glances up at the sky again. “Something that makes me feel like I can fly.”

You don't want to pry, so you keep your eyes on the road ahead of you. The car drives out of the city and onto the highway, the road much smoother under the wheels.

Suddenly, Jinx jerks forward and sticks her head out the open window. She holds herself up by grasping onto the edges of the windows, the wind ripping through her hair and clothes as the car gains speed. “YEEEEESSSSSSSS-”

“Wha—what the hell are you doing!?”

“I'M FLYING!” Even though you can't see her face, you can hear the grin in her voice.

“Get back in the car!” 

“NOPE!”

You grip the wheel harder, trying to keep the car steady as Jinx lets one arm out the window. “You think I want to see you get decapitated by a passing semi-truck in the mirror?”

“Do you always think about me getting decapitated on the freeway?”

“It's what you'll end up like if you don't buckle up in the next three seconds!”

“YOLOOOOOOOO-”

“One-”

She leans out the window even further, now her stomach resting on the edge of the window rather than her head and shoulders.

“Two-”

She closes her eyes, a huge grin across her face.

“THREE-”

“OKAY OKAY! I'M DONE, I'M DONE!” She falls back into her seat, laughing as she throws her head back against the headrest. “That was fun!”

You glare at her through the mirror. “You're crazy.”

She scoffs. “I just want to live life to the fullest. Live fast, die young, and leave a pretty corpse.”

“The fuck? That's a bit morbid.”

“That's a lyric from a Social Distortion song, idiot.”

—

The two of you keep yourselves occupied by talking.

You've talked a lot. She has a lot of random and interesting information about a lot of topics that she seems to remember effortlessly. She's like a walking encyclopedia. 

Eventually, the conversation turns to rumors about you two.

You twist the key, turning off the engine, and watch as Jinx steps out of the car and heads up to the front of her house. “None of that is true.” You follow her, shoving your keys into your back pocket.

She chuckles. “I've heard that you've broken several of a teacher's fingers.”

“Rubbish,” you respond, shaking your head. “Kicked out of your last school for setting the chemistry lab on fire?”

“Maybeee.” She grins. “Got it on with a teacher's daughter.”

“Rumor!”

“Mhmmm.”

“That was a rumor!” You throw your hands up in the air.

“Uh-huh.”

“Totally fake.” You groan. “I heard you beat up an entire football team by yourself at your last school.”

“Not entire,” she clarifies, smirking. “Just the quarterback. He started it.”

“Alright,” you say, climbing the steps and stepping onto the porch alongside her.

“I heard you've gotten an entire class to drop out.”

“True.”

“Oh yeah?”

You sigh. “Two years ago,” you clarify. “A couple of assholes decided they were going to prank me every chance they got. I got fed up and paid them a visit in the middle of a math class.”

“How many people?”

“Half the class.”

“God, you're terrible,” she says, “I like you.”

You both settle down on the porch steps, sitting side by side and facing one another. Your knees are touching.

“Tell me something true.”

“Hmm… something true?” you murmur, rubbing your chin. “I hate peas,” you state, glancing over to her with a smirk.

She chuckles. “No, not that. Something real. Like something nobody else knows.”

You nod, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Your hand trails down to her neck, fingertips brushing against her bare skin.

You press your lips to her neck, just below her jawline. “You're sweet,” you continue, moving to the other side of her neck. “And sexy.” Pulling back, your eyes meet hers. “And completely hot for me.”

Jinx scoffs. “You're wonderfully presumptuous,” she remarks. “Anyone ever told you that?”

“Every day,” you quip. “By myself in the mirror.”

You lean in, pressing your lips against hers. You pull back, foreheads touching, leaving just enough space between you to speak. “Go to the prom with me,” you whisper.

“Is that a request or a command?” she murmurs, bumping your nose with her own.

You rest a hand on her knee. “Come on,” you urge. “Just go with me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It's just stupid. Prom is stupid.”

You sigh. “It's not stupid.”

“It really is,” she insists.

You press your lips together, trying to think of something to get her to change her mind. “People won't expect you to go,” you counter, scooting closer to her and bumping your shoulder against hers. “No one will bat an eye.”

She glares at you, leaning away from your touch. “Why are you so hellbent on this?”

“What? I'm not,” you protest with a chuckle, shifting awkwardly. “Come on,” you try, “it's not that big of a deal.”

“But it is to me,” she says. “What's in it for you?”

You scoff in response to her accusation. “So you think I need something to want to be with you?”

“You tell me.”

You turn away, avoiding her gaze. “You need therapy. Did anyone ever suggest therapy for you? Because if not, they should,” you blurt, struggling to maintain composure as your heart thrums in your chest.

“Answer the question,” she snaps, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing!” you exclaim in frustration, turning to face her again. “There's absolutely nothing in it for me, if that's what you want to know. I just-” you pause, catching your breath. “I just want to spend time with you, okay?”

You pull a cigarette from your pocket and raise it to your lips, fumbling with the lighter. Just as you're about to light it, Jinx snatches the cigarette out of your mouth and flicks it to the ground.

She heads towards the front door, and without looking back, slams it shut.

You rub your temples, seething at your own stupidity. You didn't mean to say those things to her—your frustrations were bubbling over, that's all.

You pull yourself up from the porch and kick the abandoned cigarette.

You really shouldn't have agreed to Caitlyn's deal. 

taglist: @axolotl-arsonist, @crvcified-kinx, @axoluxy, @dyslexic-dreamer, @urdeadpoet, @iluvshifting, @shootingc, @freementallyillkid, @tr3nzit444s, @powderbomb-jinxed, @chickennuggetsaresootasty, @multiliker, @rick-grimes-girl, @angelsglitch

[slasherscream]

i would love to know which of the crazy ass boys gang would indulge a partner who watches reality tv? whose getting just as invested and angry and who is standing to the side saying it’s dumb and fake? (i know it’s kevin)

❥ who grins and bares it so they can bond with you ❥

Billy Loomis - This is just a bonding activity for Billy. It’s not awful. Nor is it the most fun thing in the world. It’s just one of those tiny moments that relationships are built off. The small bids for connection that build intimacy. You don’t bitch when he wants to watch Psycho for the sixth time in two months. He doesn’t bitch when you turn on trashy TV. He pulls you close, so that you’re sitting in his lap, or laid up against him, and pays enough attention to ask you the odd question or two to clarify what’s going on if he gets lost. What do you mean they switch couples?? When did they start doing that? Last week… oh I bet Luca was pissed. 

David Mccall - David is obnoxious because he pretends to be the type who is upset when you watch without him. He’ll come home, glance at the TV and gasp dramatically: Baby! Why are you watching our show without me?! How far along are you? You watched an entire episode? You know better than that, baby! You gotta rewind it, hold on, I’ll order us some pizza. Can’t believe you’d watch behind my back! This is a ridiculous pantomime that you may or may not pick up on. Mileage varies as always. David couldn’t care less about the reality TV shows you watch. But he likes the way you giggle as you rewind it for him. Or the way you light up when you’re discussing it with him. You used to spend way too much time talking with your friends about this stupid crap. Now you talk to him. Who gives a shit about whatever mindless little thing you’re watching. What David enjoys is your undivided attention. 

Jason Dean/JD - JD also sees this as a bonding activity and bid for connection… However, JD is a born hater. He bonds by talking shit. He’s not necessarily trying to be a bummer about the things you enjoy. He’s just a certified yapper when it comes to shit-talking. If he thinks something is stupid he just can’t sit in silence. This is his most underdeveloped life skill. He’s got ten minutes of quiet in him max. If he does manage to bite his tongue his face gives him away anyways. So what was the point? Will say something pretentious like: “Why are we watching people play out a badly scripted version of their lives through a screen when we could be out living ours, right now? Let’s hop on my bike and just ride, darling! Live a little!” Sir, I just worked an eight hour shift. I need to see someone who doesn’t deserve a rose get sent home in tears. Read the room. Get a grip. 

❥ who is pissed off/devastated when you watch it without them ❥

Sebastian Valmont - What can he say? Sebastian likes to watch people experience psychological torment. He’s trying to turn on the first seasons of “America’s Next Top Model" and watch a girl get sent home in tears after the judges convinced her to shave her head bald to look more fierce.This is the type of quality reality TV that makes Sebastian laugh. Watching people go through their darkest moments in front of a camera that highlights the creases in their cheap makeup is how he likes to spend the occasional date night. You had to put him onto reality tv shows, but now he’s hooked. He probably watches more reality TV than you do. If we’re being honest. You think this might be how he gets to still live out his glory days of being an unrepentant asshole. Sometimes he sighs a little too wistfully when someone is being a monster. 

Jordan Li - Jordan enjoys anything you do together. Even if they hate a particular activity, at least they’re spending time with you. Still, there are reality TV shows that Jordan really likes, such as: home improvement shows, “Say Yes to the Dress'', “Face Off”, “American Ninja Warrior”, and “RuPaul's Drag Race”. And then there are shows that Jordan puts on a brave face about. Things like “Love Island” and “Jersey Shore”. Jordan gets queasy just scrolling past them. There was a time before they became one of Brink’s favorites that their parents kept pushing them to try and be an entertainment Supe. No one is taking you that seriously, anyways! Maybe you’ll do better in the reality TV circuit. It’s unlikely Jordan will ever get stuck in projects like that now. They’ve proven they can be a heavy hitter. Proven that they’re strong enough to not need to sell themselves as cheap, easily-digestible, entertainment. Still, they don’t like thinking of the alternate world where they’re having to sit in front of a camera and do twenty retakes of “authentic” confessional room venting.

Stu Macher - He likes reality TV and doesn’t care who knows. Hooray! A shared interest… except watching these shows with him will piss you the fuck off. He has dog-shit opinions about everything. You will never be rooting for the same people. You will never agree on who handled a situation better. He’s always rooting for the asshole, it seems. You don’t even think he’s doing it to be contrary or to make you mad. He’s genuinely on their side (most of the time… he does enjoy making you mad.) Watching reality TV with Stu makes you want to kill him. It also makes you look at him funny. Why are you always siding with the bastards? You don’t think Ekin-Su needed to apologize? Stu, are you out of your fucking mind?

Josh Washington - You’re gonna try to tell me that the twins weren’t making him paint toenails while they pulled all nighters of “The Bachelor”? Sure, okay, if you’d like to believe that. And his inner circle consists of Emily and Jess? Please. He’s been watching trashy TV for years. He’s watched a little of everything. He is so well acquainted with the dark underbelly of reality TV that it would roll over for a tummy rub from him. It knows his scent. He can easily keep track of the names, faces, and plots. Who’s fucking who. Who hates who. Who’s forming secret alliances. You’ll probably be more lost than Josh ever gets. He’s a day one. He’s an OG. 

❥ who is pissed off to even be hearing about it second-hand ❥

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - He has better shit to do than watch reality TV show crap all day, and so do you. These are the kinds of harsh words that will be waiting for you if you try and get him to watch anything fun with you. Ask him one too many times and, like a parent who is annoyed that you are bothering him, he will begin to fill up any moment of free time the two of you have with activities. No, babe, we can’t watch “90 Day Fiance.” Why? Because we’ve got to run the marathon for kids with cancer and then we’ve got dinner with the mayor after that. You two are gonna be booked and busy. You were obviously bored. Now you won’t have time to even think!

Kevin Khatchadourian - Please don’t remind him so blatantly of his own intellectual superiority over you (he’s an asshole.) He gets the ick of the century when you try and tell him what happened during one of your little…programs. If you have the audacity to take it a step further and ask him to watch with you? He’s rendered speechless. Since when is this relationship a safe space? He doesn’t enjoy well-written, heart-stopping, incredible genre-defining movies and television. And yet, somehow, you’re so delusional you think he’s gonna sit through reality television with you? Don’t piss him off. He doesn’t even bother responding. Enjoy the view of his back as he walks away!

❥ secret fourth worse thing ❥

Nathan Prescott - Nathan is once again in a category of his own, which you might call: too nosy to not get into it, but doesn't want you to know he enjoys it. He made fun of you when you first started to watch reality TV. He can’t go back on his word now. If you were cuddling on the couch he’d have his face turned into your stomach and dramatically roll his eyes at your absentminded head rubbing. Could we focus on what’s important please? But then the plots started thickening and the heated exchanges started to pique his interest. He knew he was cooked when he started recognizing names, who was booed up with who… wait that disloyal prick hooked up with who this week?! He tells you to just replay the episode because you’re explaining it shitty and you obviously want him to watch it and talk to you about it. It isn’t for his benefit at all. Turn the subtitles on, god dammit.

A/N: this was really fun! how did you know i've been watching reality TV shows lately?? if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

[muletia]

Love you're optimus stories! So here is one

Optimus picks up (Y/N) from work/school and finds then hurt. I mean dried blood coming from their noise, a black eye, and a bandage around their chin.

Turns out some asshole tried to rob them bit they beat the asshole up with getting hurt themselves.

While optimus do somthing or just comfort (Y/N)?

hello and thank you! sorry this took a while to answer but your honor, i am just silly

you've touched on a very interesting topic here, one that i wanted to write about earlier. there's a reason why i don't call my obsessed!optimus a yandere and don't think he fits into that character archetype. and i know the topic of yandere is very fluid and can be interpreted in endless ways, but the main shtick of my interpretation doesn't differ much from the canon version of optimus. i mean: i’d rather hurt myself than others. the only difference is that i’ve gave him an unhealthy and self-destructive love for the reader (and made him a bit horny).

in the situation you described, optimus would be terrified at the sight of you and would instantly want to take you to ratchet/june, but he wouldn't actively look for the perpetrator or want to hurt them out of revenge, because you already dealt it yourself. however, after that incident, he would definitely become more overprotective, at least until you're fully recovered. he would spend much more time in your company, offer rides to work, and treat you even more gently — if that’s even possible.

and yes, i know that in one of my replies i wrote that optimus would go apeshit if some vehicon hurt you, but only because it was a direct, visible incident that flipped a feral switch in his processor, screaming that he must protect you at all costs. he saw with his own optics how you got hurt, and his anger doesn’t stem solely from the fact that you’re suffering, but also from his failure to prevent you from getting hurt. you were right there with him, he was watching over you closely, and yet he failed — he didn’t keep the promise he made to you and your planet. and he hates himself for it because he knows he should take better care of you. in the above scenario, he’s not a direct witness, so it would end with just comforting you.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cabin in the woods (yan!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!Horangi)

You and your friend group are definitely not a part of a typical slasher movie. Two weird guys you met at the corner store somewhere in rural Austria definitely not serial killers. You are definitely going to be saved. You are definitely not going to like being their little trophy.

TW: Yandere, Age gap(Reader in her early 20, murder husband in their late 30), Serial Killers, Mild Gore, Extreme dub-con(Bordering cnc), Blood, Horror, Kidnapping

CHAPTER 1 You meet two weird locals at the corner store in a city in the middle of Austrian woods. Your timid nature is going to be your downfall.

Come to the woods, your assholes-of-a-friend said. Come on, he said, I know that for someone like you, dwelling in some shitty forest for three or more days only to drink mediocre beer and probably have even more mediocre sex while mosquitos are biting at your vagina sounds like your worst nightmare, but! Have you considered it could be fun? 

Yeah, you have considered it. Considered it, thought about it and already decided not to engage with the idea. Spending the holiday in your own country, your own city and by your computer was far better than running around some random Austrian forest – and so you decided to kinda…ditch the idea. 

Considering what happened in the next few days, you really should have been more true to your words. 

Because you agreed to the proposition – because you don’t want to antagonize your friends, because you already feel strained from them, because they are assholes and they continue to be assholes but they are the only ones you have. Maybe you shouldn’t rot in your room, maybe you should agree to spend Spring break with them, getting drunk in the woods and maybe chasing some wild boars across the place. 

— Sorry. 

Some asshole – not the friend one, just an asshole in general, like everyone else in this fucking country that is so stuck up at being in the woods and mountains, that you are literally going to be sick – took the last remaining bottle of coke that was still left on the shelve. You were not having it because it was almost night already, the last remaining store open in the area, and you needed your sugar fix and something to mix alcohol with so you wouldn’t get drunk and stupid immediately. 

You aren’t letting go of the bottle. 

The guy doesn’t let go either. 

— Sorry, I think I got it first. 

You hate how weak your voice is. Never be the active, social one of your friends, you’re stuck being just a dumb girl who has literally everyone walking all over her. You decided to dig your heels into the ground and sent this asshole where he belongs – so, your grip on the bottle intensifies. 

— Haven’t seen you. 

He tugs the bottle back to him – and he has some arm strength, surprisingly for someone in this town. To be quite honest, you are too intimidated by his deep, annoyed voice to even consider looking at him, so you don’t know what the guy looks like. Maybe it’s an MMA champion – celebrity shop at some weird corner stores in abandoned Austrian cities too. 

— I am very sorry, but I really, really need this bottle. 

You don’t, actually. There are multiple bottles of Pepsi right here, and not like you have a very specific preference for the drink that is bad for you. You just got tired of people walking all over you, tired of your friends that constantly getting you into their shenanigans without asking for your opinion and you just want something good happening to you at least once. So, you tug the bottle back to you, and press it against your chest, hoping that whoever this man is will get the memo and get the fuck away from you until you’ll get your pepper spray. Ah, right, you forgot to bring one…well, he doesn’t have to know about that. 

— What do you need this bottle for? 

— Important reasons. Secret reasons.

The man sneered and you finally got a good look at him. And…fuck. 

Tall, broad, maybe more on the leaner side, but you can clearly see his tight muscles that form this perfect, thin type of masculinity that makes you think about greet athletes and that weird webtoon you were occasionally reading because you don’t have anything better to do with your life. You lick your lips, nervously, suddenly aware of the fact that you wear some old hoodie, battered jeans, and exactly zero makeup – you were supposed to get chased by the bears in the forest, not a meet-cute annoying strangers. 

He is Korean if little doodles on his jacket and an accent are saying the truth. You force yourself to get your gaze away from the mask that was covering more than half of his face, black glasses that obstruct the view even more, and messy black hair – the only thing about his appearance that you can actually see. 

Maybe, it’s good that you can’t see his face – you need to get out of here, preferably with a bottle of coke and some other snacks before your friends start questioning why the only person who didn’t want to go is so reluctant about leaving the store. Besides, it’s already almost closing time and you need to gather your thoughts. With a deep sigh, you push the bottle closer to you. 

But this time, he didn’t humor you with softness. He kept it close to himself and suddenly, you are very aware of how much weaker you are than him. You could put up a good fight against a mouse, maybe, a squirrel on a good day – but in this tugging match, you were no, pun intended, match for him. You look closely at his cargo jacket – the patches look official, normal, making you think about the military and what the fuck Korean soldier is doing in the small town somewhere in the rural, touristy-foresty-mountainy part of Austria. 

— Please, sir, it’s getting silly. 

— Yes, it is. Give up now. 

He has that weird calmness in his voice – a low grumble that makes you shiver, the urge to just give up your control and present him your neck like a good pet makes you want to vomit. God, it’s humiliating – you just hope that your friends won’t be here to witness your utter humiliation. 

— I really, really need this bottle. Please? 

You master your best puppy eyes, looking at him with a half-lidded gaze, hoping he has at least a somewhat working and aching heart inside of his lean, muscular chest. The dark glasses of his don’t allow you to see his face clearly, but you can feel how he slowly eyes you from head to toe, slowing down at how much your hands are trembling at the confrontation. 

In a normal situation, you would give up already. But this isn’t a normal situation – you wanted to learn how to be brave, independent, and stand up for yourself in small things, even if your friends still going to swirl you around into making dumb decisions. 

— I was the first to grab it. Why should I give it to you? 

His voice is mesmerizing – you didn’t expect something as deep from a random stranger in the corner shop and here you are, embarrassed, cheeks heated because you want to ditch your friends and look at the random guy you just met. Ah, the tragedy of meeting someone remotely attractive and closer to your age – or at least looking like it – in a mundane place so that the horny thoughts would make room inside your head. 

— Because this would cheer me up really nice, sir. 

You master even puppier eyes – and you lick your lips some more, hoping to elongate the point of how shitty your day was, and how nice it would be, just to have a bottle of coke to cheer you up. Man lets go of a grumpy noise, shaking his head. 

“Fucking tourists” he mutters – and you feel even more embarrassed immediately. If anything, he is probably a tourist too! 

— Sir? So the coke-stealer has manners after all. 

His laugh is dry, and you want to take the bottle and leave – but when you yank it closer, he doesn’t let go. If anything, he grabs it even firmer, thin plastic deforms under his touch, and the tactical gloves he is wearing are only empathizing with the vast difference between you and him. 

— I’m not a coke-stealer. I had dibs on this bottle. 

He stares at you, tilting his head to the side. You look stubborn, like an angry little kitten – and, god fucking dammit, Horangi loved cats. Always wanted to get one or two, adorable furballs that would lay on him and Konig, maybe destroy the wildlife around their house. he loved cats and never had time to take care of them because of their combined jobs – so when he looks at this stubborn little woman – little more in her posture than actual size – he feels all the desire to take a kitten home gets straight into his pants. 

He has to find Konig. Ah, and get the bottle back. 

— Dibs don’t matter if you can’t even hold it. So, the bottle is mine. 

— Sir, if anything, this bottle can’t belong to you yet. You haven’t paid for it! 

— You too. 

— But I will. 

— Just as I am. 

He chuckles, more amused than anything. You look angry, you look pissed, you munch on your lower lip nervously because you don’t want this man to walk all over you, but you also really want his – it belongs to the state, actually – coke. So, you yank it one last time, already preparing to give up and drink Pepsi as the loser woman you are. 

Instead, the bottle goes right into your hand with ease – and you fall on your back, losing the connection between your legs and the ground. You prepare to fall and crack your head on the floor, just like a wet kitten of a person you are. 

Instead, you stumble into…something. You want to say that it’s something soft, maybe a snack aisle or the pillows that are being sold in this store for some reason, but this mysterious “something” under your cheek is firm, tense and warm. 

Just like in the worst romantic comedies you ever saw, you are crushed into a broad male’s chest. Don’t mess it up with another man’s broad chest, those are actually two very different individuals and the concentration of pecks on the square meter already makes you feel uneasy. You bite your lips nervously, wanting nothing more but to disappear – you finally have the bottle in your hands and you can swiftly retreat to the cashier on the other side of the shop, but the man behind you stops you. 

— What’s going on, Tigeren? 

Ah, good. The wall of muscles behind you smells of generic male deodorant and something metallic – and has the voice of a Greek god mixed with the most stereotypical Austrian accent ever. Not like you are an expert on accents or voices or tones because you’re not sure that Greek gods would have such high and grumbling voices, but you stand not corrected, drowning in your bad decisions. 

You feel the firm hold on your shoulder gently put you away slightly, as the man comes to touch the asshole’s hand. Softly, gently, you want someone to touch you like this. You lift your gaze from the pair and…

Did you miss a Halloween party with the tough rule of wearing a mask all the time, even when you’re going out to grab some more snacks? You lower your gaze from the man who also wears a generic black mask and dark glasses, your eyes slowly go down to his pants and…

Did you miss a horse-riding party? 

— Some tourist tried to steal my coke. Nothing, Ko. 

— I’m not a tourist. 

You mumble, under your breath. You don’t want to be here – the area suddenly becomes intoxicating, you feel out of place and you want to run away as fast as possible but the only thing you can do is to just strive on, hoping that you’d at least keep your beverage with you. You take a step to the side, hoping to retreat quietly, like a ninja – but they both notice and turn to your side immediately. 

— This is a dangerous place, lady. 

The tall guy – well, they are both tall, but the second one is fucking enormous, towering over the shelves and making you feel insignificant compared to him – grumbles it gently, almost carefully. You are inclined to listen to him, taking up his words like a damned prophecy. You know this place is dangerous – it’s a forest in the mountains of Austria, of course, it is dangerous, you tried to tell your friends this, but…well, to no avail. Useless as usual. 

— I’m aware, thank you. Can I…excuse me, I will leave now. 

— With my coke. 

Korean guy snorts, the clear amusement in his voice. You don’t like the way he emphasizes the point of you stealing it from him – you both are entitled to it, if anything, he is the weird one to think that he has some special dibs for this. The bottle is already warmed up from your combined touches and you groan from the fact – now you will have to choke on the warm cola while all of your friends have fun with their dumb alcohol cocktails and ice cubes and everything you forgot to bring because you were the last one to get here. Because you were the last one they asked to join – feeling like an afterthought, you lick your lips nervously. 

— Of course. The one you wrestled out of my hold. 

— You let go of it, sir. 

— Didn’t want to make a scene with a little thing like you. 

You feel the tips of your ears burning. Oh, how you wanted to punch both of them – the tall one and the slightly less tall one, both chuckling like a pair of grannies on the porch. Like this fucking place needed more bears. 

— You should be careful around these parts. Weird things going around. 

The mountain has spoken again – weird, but all of his phrases feel more like something straight up from a horror movie. Combined with the eerie dim light of the tiny store and his mask, it sent a shiver down your spine. Gosh, you need to watch fewer horror movies and read less terrible dark romance books. You are jumpy, nervous, anxious, everything that doesn’t combine well with a forest trip. 

You take a step back and the blue eyes follow you. When did he take off his sunglasses? Why do they both need sunglasses at night? 

He looks at you and, fucks sake, you stumble into the aisle again. With a bottle of coke in your hand, which isn’t the best weapon in the world, you stumble to the cashier. 

Cold gaze follows you. Oh, how he follows you. 

You nervously bring the coke bottle to the old man behind the counter, listening to the tired German speech – you recognize the numbers, memorize the price of a single bottle, and yet…you feel the eyes glue to your back as you desperately rummage through your pockets. You swear to god that you had cash on you this exact morning – but you go through your pockets, through your backpack, and try to search for maybe some old cents and cards. 

Nothing. 

God, you feel like a failure – embarrassed that you wasted so much time trying to get this bottle only to put it back on the shelf in defeat and…

— On me. Move your ass, tourist. 

The Korean guy notches your side and you glare at him with a mix of anger and shame – he pays for the bottle, probably grinning from how well he taught this annoying as fuck tourist a lesson, and also for the few snacks he bought, probably for himself and his…friend? Boyfriend? 

You move your ass obediently, going out of the store, and your head hangs low in defeat. Your friends are smoking outside, everyone is visibly annoyed with how long it took you only to go out empty-handed. Jenny, one of your girlfriends, a tall brunette with a perfect fucking body that shouldn’t belong to someone in the real world and not 90-era comedies, looks…worried. 

You went to ask her what was wrong, but she shook her head, looking somewhere behind you. 

You stare at the ground, watching as your shriveled shadow from the single-store light swiftly being absorbed by someone’s much larger frame. You gulp, not wanting to look behind you, knowing what – or who – you might want. 

Tall guy with a…coke bottle? Well, you weren’t expecting that. He gives you the bottle and you can almost see the condescending smile on his face as his fingers linger on your hand for longer than they should be. You take the offer, not really understanding what the fuck is really going on. 

— Thank…you? 

— No problem, kleine. 

You can hear the smile in his voice and your hands are trembling. Jenny looks at you with surprise, clearly not expecting nerdy ol’ you to pull someone so…well, not nerdy and maybe old. 

— What the fuck? Who is…

— I’ll explain in the car, alright? 

— Did you drop it or something? 

— I…I think I lost my wallet. Have you seen it? 

She stops for a second, thinking. There are a few things Jenny is good at – burning the tip of her tongue with a lighter, wearing crop tops, eating men alive (unless they are the most annoying ones alive). Lying isn’t one of them – not because she is a good person, but because she would rather flip your shit upside down and make you as upset as she possibly could. 

— Chad took it. Said you’d find the nearest bus to get the fuck out of here if you’d have it. 

He…

You can’t fucking believe this. All this humiliation because her annoying boyfriend didn’t want you to ruin this little unfriendly gathering. You feel angry tears in the corners of your eyes, almost ready to sniffle like the needy thing you are. God, you’re weak and pathetic and…

The Austrian guy behind you coughs, attracting attention. 

— Ladies like you shouldn’t go out this late. Bad things might happen. 

Jenny snorted and you already wanted to close your eyes. She was clearly not having it and she had a very short temper – you take a step back, towards her, hoping to set her down. Instead, she took one look at your pleading expressions, and it made her even more annoyed. She was never good with locals. 

— We’re getting out of this dump as soon as possible, sir. Didn’t ask for your opinion though. 

He chuckles and the sound sends a shiver down your spine. 

— Just wanted to warn you. Tourists are disappearing around these parts. 

— We’re not some dumb tourists. 

— Ach? You aren’t? 

Jenny fails to hear the amusement in her voice. You tuck the Coke bottle in your arms, hoping that they would stop. 

— We’re not a bunch of dumb tourists and we will call the police if you’d proceed harassing us. 

— Just wanted to give your friend what she forgot. Keep an eye on each other, ja? 

— We will. Fuck off before I’m calling the 9-1-1, verstehen? 

You feel even more embarrassed as she storms off to the truck where Chad and everyone else is staying, not even paying you a glance – too used to your sorry ass going right after her, like a lapdog that your other friend likes to bring everywhere in her tiny pink purse. 

You sigh, feeling horrible. The guy is creepy. Tall, looming over everyone, both of them are fucking terrifying – but they paid for the coke and the Austrian one is genuinely trying to tell you something. A bit paranoid, maybe, but you see the cargo jacket he is wearing, so he is probably either a paranoid survivalist or maybe a part of the military. You like having someone worried about your safety, even in more of a scary horror movie-esque form. 

— I’m…sorry for Jenny. She isn’t always like this, we’re just tired after a long road. 

— You were driving whole day? 

— We’re, um…on a trip. You know, a little getaway in the woods. Would have been nice. 

The giant tilts his head to the side. You just noticed that his hands are twitching a little, fidgeting with the bottom part of his jacket. You find it almost cute, endearing in a way – at least he is as anxious about talking to you as you are to him. You find yourself also fidgeting on the bottle, swirling it in your hands, never understanding what you should do in a somewhat normal social situation. 

— Be careful, kleine Hase. Like I said, it’s a dangerous place for young ladies like you. 

The way he said it, calling you a young lady, made him look extremely old – and made you feel even more embarrassed and uncertain about your future. Here you are, wasting your youth on shitty road trips to Austrian woods instead of reading horror books and watching romance movies. 

— Thank you, sir. I…I’ll keep that in mind. 

— Are you two alone on the trip? 

Alright, it was a bit creepy. his cold blue gaze bores in your face, making you feel small. 

— No, Our male friends are with us. 

He humms, almost sounding amused. 

— Good. Wouldn’t want it to be too easy. 

— Sorry? 

— Wouldn’t want someone bad to hurt you so easily. 

You smile. He is nice, even if a bit creepy – you nod slightly, taking a step towards the truck, since everyone else already got in and you still have a long road to the place of your camp. 

— Thank you for the bottle, sir. 

— You are welcome. Keep yourself safe, ja? 

You nod. 

Keeping yourself safe sure does sound nice. You can do it, right? (You can’t,  but you don’t know that yet)

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Don't get possessed!

You'll end up like this...

Gassy air bubbled from deep inside my soft, pudgy stomach. The smell of semi-digested beer wafted into my nose as my lips flapped in the gust of a violent belch dragging itself out. God, this body was disgusting, but this is what I did to it; this is what I did to him...

I used his cellphone to snap a pic of the sweaty slab of meat I'd been wearing for the past three years. It was the disgraced body of a former jock. Jake's stomach rumbled like it always did when I filled it to the brim. Even after all this time, it still hasn't adapted to the crap I've constantly been stuffing it with.

Swallowing yet another beer, I toss the can into the corner of his dark living room, where it collided with discarded pizza boxes and half empty milk jugs. I'd let the entire apartment overflow with the garbage generated by this once-godly body, and there was a lot of it.

The place smelled like a dumpster in the sun.

You might think this is a disgusting way to live. Well, I did too. Everything about the situation was nasty; the damp basement apartment, the stacks of dirty dishes, the closet of unwashed clothes. The entire place had a permanent stench of body odor, and I know it followed this body around everywhere.

I had never in my life felt so absolutely disgusted by my surroundings.

But that was the exact fucking point.

To explain, we'll have to flash back to a few years ago. Let me show you a photo of Jake when I first possessed him. I took this right after jumping into his perfect body...

The athlete had just gotten back from the gym. It was another perfect workout for the perfect jock, and I could feel the grit and intensity swelling in every muscle. The college footballer would normally shower after any physical activity, but I was happy to crack open a beer and bask in his sweaty glory.

I don't know if you could tell, but I am not a fan of Jake.

He was a pretentious bully at my university, and he got away with anything. I tried my best to stay out of his way, but ultimately found myself staring into the headlights of his fancy Christmas present: a shiny black camaro. The asshole ended my life while driving back to campus after one of his famous parties!

I hate to be dramatic, but I was not ready to pass away, and I was not going to let an asshole like Jake get away with my murder. The police couldn't solve the crime any more than I could console my mourning family, so I took matters into my own ghostly hands.

Jake, beautiful Jake, didn't have a single iota of remorse. He continued to get belligerently drunk, and continued to shame and ridicule anyone shorter, weaker, or fatter than him, which was just about anyone. The worst part was people let him: they allowed it because he was the strongest, the most handsome, the prize quarterback with a winning smile!

I had to do something to stop the piece of trash lurking inside his god-like body.

So I possessed him. And I did this...

When I took over, it was like putting on a body suit. As a ghost, I was invisible, so I got right behind and slipped inside. First, I shoved a leg in, then an arm, and then the rest followed.

He struggled, flailing the few body parts he still had control over, but it was in vain!

My head was the last thing to get situated, but once I slid it into place, his yelling subsided. His thoughts evaporated, and I broke in his handsome face with a wicked smile. It felt different, grinning with someone else's mouth, but I was just glad to have a body again. His was definitely an upgrade compared to my old one. The height I stood at, the breadth of my shoulders, the weight of muscular pecs hanging off my chest; it all took some getting used to.

I enjoyed living inside the jock's body, but I was on a revenge mission. The first thing I wanted to screw up was his diet!

I started shoveling massive amounts of fast-food down his throat three times a day, packing on forty pounds in just a couple weeks. Obviously, I quit going to his football practice and even dropped out from his classes. I needed the time to bulk his body up.

His teammates and coaches all reached out, but I told them to get lost. He took everything from me, so I wanted to do the same to him...

This is a pic I took of Jake's body after almost a year of controlling him. I wanted him to look and smell as awful as possible in public, so I kept him as sweaty and hairy as I could. Despite my best efforts, his attractiveness was still shining through. If anything, he looked like a hot, hard-working bear on the way home from the job, and that was not what I wanted.

This made me realize that I could destroy more than just his looks.

In his body, I marched back to campus and begged the manager of the university gym for a job. A bunch of his old friends were there to see it, so I made sure to act as pathetic as possible in the six foot hunk, practically grovelling for any position. I even dropped to Jake's knees in front of the guy, giving a lot of the gym-goers second hand embarrassment.

Ultimately, the manager offered me a janitorial position if I would shut up. I accepted it gladly, kissing the guys shoes with Jake's lips like some kind of submissive idiot.

So even though Jake's body was still attractive with the extra weight and fur I'd given it, the dingey old uniform of a janitor made sure to mark him as the bottom of the food chain. I wore it like a badge of honor, even if I never washed the damn thing. Wearing a stained boilersuit labelled 'janitor' everywhere definitely told the world what Jake was worth!

By that point, people really only saw Jake as a walking mop, if they even looked his direction at all...

This last picture is one I took after about a year of working for the school. No one had spoken to me (Jake) in that entire time, unless they needed a toilet unclogged. The man had truly lost any respect people had for him.

The overalls hide the giant gut I'd managed to grow on his torso, but you can look at the top pic if you want to see how fat and hairy I ultimately got him. He looked nothing like the explosive athlete he'd been a couple years ago.

I took that photo right before I released Jake's to his body.

The jock probably wouldn't recognize himself. He'd wonder why he was suddenly so fat and hairy. He'd be terrified by the janitorial uniform on his back and even more horrified by the layers of dried sweat swamping his skin. It wouldn't be until he realized how much time had passed that he would fully understand the punishment I'd carved out for him. I wonder how he'll react when he finds out that he's spent the last three years scrubbing floors in the gym instead of working out in it.

I wonder if he'll clean himself up and learn a lesson? Or maybe he'll just accept his fate and give in to the habits I've made for his body. I don't know, and I don't care.

I'll be long gone by then.

Honestly, I have to admit that it's kind of fun living like this. Disgusting, sure, but there's something about reveling in the laziness, the degradation, the stink. I never allowed myself to be so laid back in life. Maybe, I learned something from this experience with Jake as well. I'm starting to think I'll find a new body to possess and live in. Someone I can take over and use for my own immediate pleasures.

Maybe you're the right candidate! You've got a nice body I could jump into. You won't mind if I hop in and drive for a few years, would you? You'll be disgusted by the state I leave you in, but hey it's not like it's my body I'm fucking up, right!

[lwyikas]

When you know,you know ft Suna Rintarou

when your friend ask how you can know a person is “right one for you”

“He is not reading my messages for 5 hours and then i’m the one who not shows enough interest!” Even if the situation is not funny against your friend’s rebellion you laugh quietly.

”Don’t you think its time for dump him already?” She groaned and puts her head to table”But i don’t want to,you can not understand me”

“Hey i was just trying to help!”Then you feel muscular arms around your neck from behind and a kiss comes to your cheek.You turn your head little and see your Rintarou.

“hey beautiful”he sits next to you and he throws his arm on your shoulder.Then he look at your friend who look at you two with hopeless eyes.

”you two give me nausea”

He rolls his eyes and smiles”It’s not our fault that you always choose wrong boys,another failed situationship huh?”While she gives death stares to him, you smack his arm with angry look.He coughs and tries hold his smile”I mean at least i should thank those boys they teach me what I shouldn’t do in a relationship”

You smile too but not because of his comments.He plays your hairtips,he bends over and rubs his nose on your hair.Two years and still this boy makes you nervous as hell,same goes for him too.

“How you can know someone is right person?”You both end “adoring each other activity “ look at other and blinks and thinking her question.

“What you mean?”You ask when you try not to let the hand in your waist break your focus

“When i got crush every time i think they’re right one and then ends up i’m a idiot”She tells while looking at you two.”If Suna wiseacre that much ,he can explain, right?”

“Eee-Alright then”Rintarou look at you, thinks.

When did he know?

Was it the first time he saw you?Hell no. It wasn’t love at first sight. Your first conversation was when you poured hot coffee on him in lunch. we can’t say that he has absolutely positive feelings for you that time (but he’s still grateful for that accident for meeting you)or maybe It was when you helped him in most kind way, you was running around for a napkin, when you tried to dry his clothes by shaking book even though he told you it’s okay, maybe he wasn’t in love, but he thought it was quite funny.He still reminds you that day and annoys you

Maybe it was when he sees you play with cats in school way(You were almost always scolded for being late class)or when teacher changed seats and made you sit next to him instead your friends(it was because you talk too much but how could teacher know she will make quiet boy her lover?).

He was not a person who read a lot of books, he usually does his homework last day, he would put his head and sleep when he couldn’t stand history(he hates Geography too). There were times when he didn’t sleep, and these times those green eyes would always be on you.He can’t say that he fell in love the moment he saw you, but as he got to know you, he always wanted to see you and talk to you.

He did take things really slow.According to him,It’s like a building; if the building blocks are solid, it will be very difficult to be demolished..(Also he has zero skills and he didn’t know how to ask for a date but with the advice of his mother and osamu ,how good they are is debatable, he managed to handle the situation.)

In fact, he had many core memories with you, first date, first hug, first kiss and many more things that make up building blocks of his love for you. As an inexperienced young boy, because you are every first ,he was afraid to do something wrong, but you were always by his side. It was not something that happened with time or suddenly to notice his love for you. He may not social butterfly and not best at communication, but it doesn’t make sense to doubt this handsome asshole is right person because he is always looking at you with loving eyes.

He turned to you from little chaos in his mind with your hand swaying in front of his eyes.”Rin you here?”You were both waiting for his answer. Oh what was question?

He could talk about you for hours, but he doesn’t like to prolong the talk so after leaving a kiss on your hair,he turns to her:

“when you know,you know”

[xoxochb]

— psycho killer ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

warnings: chb setting, graphic violence, insane behavior, seduction-ish, two make outs pairing: ghostface! luke castellan x ghostface! daughter of aphrodite a/n: after ages I’ve finally finished this 😭🙏🏼

a ghost mask, a hunting knife, two beloved campers.

typically at camp when you heard anything about the hermes cabin counselor or the favorite daughter of aphrodite the mind would go to the perfect couple— and as this was indeed true, it wasn’t how they expected. one hundred percent not. It was almost obvious, the murders at camp. It wasn’t like you were trying to fully hide them, of course not. all the assholes you killed deserved to get their bodies shown on full display, to show off your handiwork. It was almost surprising how nobody knew the mastermind behind these perfect kills

the campers chosen for your bloodlust rage weren’t randomly selected this is why. each belonged to a certain point in your life, to a certain experience. such as an ares kid who threw you to the ground during a sparring session, or one of your siblings who made fun of your looks (in your defense an awful hair day, but who the fuck where they to be talking their outfit was three seasons out!), or a stupid athena kid thinking their the smartest in camp all “I know rocket science I’m better than everyone” bullshit. they might’ve got the worst of it. but there was more than just those three— you’d claimed the title ‘serial killer’ at this point. your killings didn’t go unnoticed though because luke castellan saw through your innocent act. how you’d be the first to every scene, how you’d dramatize every action trying to help mourn over the loss of many different campers who lost their lives to your hands. and he was surely not going to let you do this alone

tonight you had a conquered a perfect scheme with your partner in crime. thoroughly planned over the course of september, halloween night, campers busy with activities and your victim busy getting totally gutted!

“are you sure this plan is going to work?”

“are you serious?” you cross your arms and glare at your boyfriend “I’ve been working on this for a month and a half if this doesn’t work that’d be unlikely. and don’t you trust me?”

luke laughs softly and takes a step towards you, placing one hand around the small of your back, the other gloved hand cupping your jaw before you’re pulled in for a feverish kiss. and when he pulls away with a smirk against your lips he mumbles, “with my life”

you slip your knife from atop your bed into your hands. “then let’s do this”

⋆˚✿˖°

It was dark outside. a stygian hue filling the sky along with the small bright stars and the dull brightness illuminating from the moon above. not only was it dark it was fucking cold. though it was mid fall so you shouldn’t have expected anything less. In your lacy pink dress, you barely had anything on which wasn’t helping your cause either. with every step leaves crunch beneath you, left, right, left, right. until you at last reach your designated spot where your victim waits, paper in hand, twirling it around his fingers. you come up as quietly as possible behind him (or the tree behind him, whatever)

act i: currently in session

you put on your best I’m-so-happy-to-see you smile when you get close enough. “hey you”

the hepheastus boy turns himself with a seductive looking smirk. yeah you know exactly how this is going to go. you’d heard a rumor spreading through camp about this boy, apparently he’s a player, paying girls to have sex with him (which apparently isn’t a big deal but it might once stds start spreading, gross). regardless of this one reason you hated the boy anyways so it didn’t matter to you

his gods awful expression make you want to vomit on the spot, nonetheless you power through. “I was hoping it would be you. I always knew that stupid boyfriend of yours was a dud”

you roll your eyes and scoff. “ugh, I know right, he’s so pathetic”

you take the paper from his hands: a note written by your sister to meet her here. you throw it somewhere on the ground and fumble your fingers with the collar of the boys shirt, while his dirty hands wrap tightly around your hips

“are you gonna kiss me or what?” you mumble when your lips are close enough. but it’s almost as if the boy is aware there’s more to this meet up. doesn’t matter because once he hungrily connects your lips at last he won’t remember a thing

act ii: in the process

It was utterly disgusting— the way you let his hideous boy touch you, his hands gripping tightly over your dress in hopes it may disappear at any given moment. could this process take any longer? you began to wonder if your boyfriend had left you yo handle this on your own. yet at the same time you knew he wouldn’t let this idiot boy get away with putting his hands on you

you take matters into your own hands for the time being. while the hepheastus boy sucks along your neck you reach to your thigh where you had strapped your dagger. and almost as if on queue luke appears from within the bunches of trees. or so you hope— you don’t know for sure who it is until the ghost mask comes off. slowly but surely, through your sighs you manage to get the metal to the fabric of his shirt. luke gives you a nod indicating to make your move, quickly you shove the weapon into the boys abdomen, crimson liquid instantly pouring over your dress and the grass. the boy tightens one hand round your dress, the other touching the knife placed in his stomach. his head lifts from your shoulder to look up at you, the same blood pooling out from his mouth

and it’s heavenly, the sound he makes as he falls to the ground in agony, attempting to plea for you not to let him die, but of course you can’t hear over the liquid in his mouth all he can do is spit it out. you smirk and crouch down to his level admiring your recent work, then looking up to luke. “wanna do the honors?”

act ii: completed

he takes his mask off, shoving it into his robes pocket before taking your hidden ax from behind the tree. “what do we do once we’re done with him?”

“we burn him. once he’s all ash there’s no proof he was murdered”

you stand up from your spot on the ground, looking at the amount of blood that had fallen onto your dress. you frown but ultimately chose to ignore it, that was a problem for later. for now, the last task of the night was to properly dismember the body and take it back to hermes cabin for burning. you feel a sudden ecstasy as his limbs disconnect, one by one, legs, arms, torso, head, feet, hands, until he was nothing but bits and pieces. even better, it was none other than your lovely boyfriend that had completed this process, instantly making your knees weak— even better than this, however, was his blood adorned face, how badly you wanted to kiss all of it off slowly…

and you can. when he throws the ax on the ground and walks towards you, his hands resting against your hips as he pushes you back against the tree. you moan in utter delight when luke finally attaches his lips with yours (this elicits a laugh from him). your whole body practically curves into his, you throw your arms around his neck tightly to keep him as close as humanly possible. his hands find themselves trailing down to your thighs and back up underneath your dress. the heat of the moment is palpable (though this probably isn’t an exaggeration as his fingers twirl around your underwear, taking his time as he slide them off), in a needy manner you tug his hair gently, and if it weren’t for his hands on you, your knees surely would’ve gave out and you might’ve collapsed by now. his tongue traces over your bottom lip, you can taste the blood, and you need more of it, whether that was his touch or the taste of the crimson liquid you’ve grown to love

“you’re perfect” he rasps against your lips, before disconnecting them and trailing down your neck “gorgeous”

he reaches your pulse point and keeps his lips there longer, for sure making a mark for you to struggle to cover up later. he bites down carefully on your skin, making you moan in response, in addition to this he grinds his hips into yours, evoking more soft sounds from your mouth. you stop him for only a moment to murmur, “y’know, there’s nobody in my cabin…”

and that was enough confirmation for the both of you to discard of the dismembered body for someone to find the next morning, and to settle (or not so much) in cabin ten for the night

꣑ৎ if you enjoyed then reblogs would be greatly appreciated! my requests are currently: open if you have any <3

[androgymagnus]

yeah buddy i was exaggerating for humor. like, joking? you know joking? literally the reason i like dr wolf is because he's kind. i don't think he's an asshole. hell, gordon ramsay--as a persona, and with this meme, part of why it's funny to me (not to speak to his real life because i don't know much about it)--usually is. he's yelling at the adults because they are doing something wrong and should know better and being kind to children because they aren't.

i was more talking about both the difference in both vibe--dr wolf is more likely to say something unintentionally rude/blunt/seemingly confrontational to a non-patient, particularly i was thinking of nichols in the pilot episode as i'd just rewatched it (not that nichols wasn't being kind of rude there too lmao) and just how in general, especially with how closed off he is personally, he tends to focus his warmer/more open kindness and empathy on patients (and dr pierce, his one close friend). this isn't to say he's cruel or intentionally unkind to anyone (though he gives off that impression not just because of his faceblindness, though that's part of it, and again, i don't think that means he is an asshole) beyond being a little confrontational, which is almost always in defense of his patients (or to his mom, which believe me i am not here to judge), even if the other person has a point (which is admirable, once again, since i didn't say it enough apparently, this doesn't make him Actually An Asshole). wow that's a lot of parentheticals. i just woke up, my head's all over the place. anyway, that vibe, of how he's more (if you'll forgive the pun) patient with his patients, while coming off as blunt/rude to others usually because he's so focused on his patients, doesn't mean he's a dick, just that he's like, good at his job. which he is.

AND--yeah i didn't forget i said 'both'--i believe i was thinking of both the aforementioned scenes with nichols and other people he thinks are being dumb in episode one (not that he's wrong, and it's admirable he has his patient's best interests at heart, that's like, again, the whole point, that he cares when other people won't) and he's very... confrontational? i don't know how to describe exactly what i mean, it's not that he's being an asshole but that there are times where he's so frustrated with them he's ironically not seeing their perspective (ie, should we take the mom's kids away forever in the first episode? no! was it reasonable to take them temporarily and require supervised visits for the time being? yeah! then, i don't think he's stupid, i get he was also upset with the implication it could become permanent and i get that, but--you get what i'm getting at here? gestures frusuratedly) which is, again, not unreasonable, but a Vibe Difference. and also of when van first fucks up with the needle and standard biopsy, yes, it is totally reasonable for dr wolf to scold him and be like this is a very basic procedure a doctor has to do and you could have made this worse for the patient, but i admit the first time i watched i kinda thought he was gonna be like okay, what's wrong, because that was not a normal reaction--but he was more concerned about the patient's feelings than what was up with van, which again. is reasonable. and not making him an asshole. but the difference is there. do you see what i'm saying.

i literally do not want him to be an asshole. that sucks. i don't need dr house 2, if i want to watch that i'll watch house or one of the hundreds of terrible sherlock adaptations (i'm talking to you, bbc sherlock. elementary, you can stay.) i much prefer an eccentric genius character who is allowed to be openly kind and empathetic rather than be a cold asshole who maybe, if you're lucky, is ~hiding~ the kind heart under that. not that that trope can't be fun but it gets really stale and a character like dr wolf is way more refreshing and fun.

look bro the original post was a little reductive but it was also a joke i made right before bed after rewatching the first episode (i was forcing my mom to watch lol) like. chill

also really funny how with patients vs almost anyone else dr wolf is just that gordon ramsay with kids vs adults "im not leaving until you laugh" vs "WHAT ARE YOU????? (an idiot sandwich 😔)" meme