#i love how pathetic and bitchy everyone is about basically nothing

[rogue-coyote]

can anyone explain to me why tolstoy is so obsessed with talking about even teeth. i mean i have my assumptions (that it's an indicator of class) but i can't say i know anything about russian history beyond whatever is attached to the cold war

[wreckofawriter]

I Don't Love

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Word count: 7,392 (Woah)

Warnings: Alochal, smoking, talk of sex.

Request: Hiii! Could I request a Sirius x reader imagine where the reader is like the girl version of Sirius. She wears her own leather jacket, and she’s basically a heartbreaker. Like Sirius, she doesn’t really believe in love, she believes in lust and attraction. Until She meets Sirius and starts falling for him and she’s super confused bc she’s never felt love before and Sirius starts falling for her and he’s confused cus of the same reason and it’s just super cute and fluffy 🥺

A/n: A few things: Number one. I am so incredibly sorry that this took me like 2 weeks to write. I had some pretty shitty crap go down and it just sorta fucked with me and I couldnt write. Number two. This is a little less fluffy than I wanted it to be but it still has a fluff ending. And Number three. To all the people who have sent me requests. I am going to start writing regularly again now so, I will probally have one out at the end of the week and another out around sunday or monday. Thank you so much for you patience.

    You had officially decided that there were two types of boys in this world. One would scream and yell at you when they realized you were only in it for one night, while the other would beg for a chance that you were never willing to give. 

               Conor had opted for the latter.

“Y/n, please” He begged, his eyes were wide and pleading, he was desperate. Desperate for you to stay, he just wanted a chance. 

    You sighed taking a large swig of your coffee, it was too early for this shit. “Conor how many times am I going to have to tell you, it was a one time thing.” your voice was monotone, as if you were bored, which was quite honestly the case. Have the same conversation over and over again tended to do that to a person. 

    “Please y/n, I swear you wont regret it. Just one date.” The Huffelpuff begged, he gasped your hand in attempts to gain your attention. He did not succeed. 

    You let out a stiffened groan, the conversation had become increasingly frustrating, the fact that most of the school was listening in on the exchange of words definitely didn't help. “Conor,” you spoke slowly, praying that he could get the information you were about to give him though his thick skull. “Friday night was fun.” you watched his features brighten, his sky blue eyes filling with momentary hope. “But that's all it was, Friday night and fun, so please leave me alone, you're giving me a headache.” 

    You heard the gasps and felt the glares, Conor was popular, he was also nice, and from what you heard extremely sweet. So as he slunk away from you head hung, tail between his legs, you could feel a good dozen people glaring daggers into your back.

    “Note to self: dont fuck popular people.” You mumbled quietly knowing you would never follow through with the rule. 

 You looked back down at your eggs rolling your eyes when you heard an all too familiar voice shriek in rage. 

    You along with everyone else in the hall turned to a furious Marlen Mckinnion who was practically dragging a smirking Sirius Black from his seat. 

    “You son of a bitch!” She shrieked, tears of fury and sadness leaking from her cheeks. 

    “Well my mother is a bitch.” He shrugged a cheeky grin pulling his lips apart. 

    She shrieked again, making you grimace. 

You tunned out of her pathetic argument and opted your attention to the book resting at the bottom of your bag. You were about a chapter in before you got sidetracked by Marleens redicoulsly high pitched blubbers. 

“How could you!” she sobbed behind you. God she was so loud. “You knew how I felt and you still fucked another girl!” 

You weren't sure why but this sentence made you snort. You attempted to muffle the giggles slowly evolving to laughter, but they poured passed your lips like an overflowing sink. Those close to you gave you angered looks, but you didn't care, you received enough of those already. It didn't take long for Marleen, to halt her reckless cries and turned to you with a fiery rage. 

She left Black standing where he was, her attention now focused purely on you. 

“What do you think is so funny y/l/n?” She hissed tears still sliding down her flushed cheeks, her mascara  trying her face into an angry blackened mess. 

You snorted once again “I'm sorry.” You wheezed out unable to contain your laughter, “I don't mean to offend you or anything,” You lied not even bothering to trap your giggles anymore. “It's just…” You burst into another fit.

The hall had gone quite, they wanted to see what was going to happen almost as much as you did. “You're telling me you actually believe that he cares what you felt?” 

He face flashed with surprise, you heard a few fellow Slytherins and even a couple Ravenclaws let out short bursts of laughter.

“How dare you!” She screamed, her voice shaky, hands bawled at her side.

“Look, it's nothing personal.” You shrugged calmly, "It's just ridiculous for you to overreact every time he sleeps with someone else. What did you expect?" You could feel hundreds of pairs of eyes on you, they were thirsting for chaos, something about the way Marleens face twisted at you words made it seem like there was a strong chance of their thirst being quenched. 

"Maybe I expected him to actually give a shit about somebody for once in his miserable life!" She yelled turning around to see the dark haired boy biting his lips to keep in a laugh. "For him to actually love me the way I loved him." 

You scoffed rolling your eyes, "You don't actually believe you were in love do you?" 

"Of course I do." She hissed back tears still leaking from her blackened eyes, she had now taken a few steps toward you 

"Love is bullshit. And if you belive you were actually in love with Black after sucking his dick once, than you just as stupid as you look." You smiled sickly sweet at the girl as she began towards you, her wand suddenly clenched in her right fist. 

"You worthless WHORE!" Her voice rang clear through the hall.

You didn't move, you didn't even flinch because the second she raised her wand it was flying from her hand landing in Avery's, who then muttered a spell that froze her feet into the ground. 

You sent him a cheeky smile and a wink before gathering your things and standing from your bench. You stood in front of the girl, just out of her reach. She was shrieking and crying and over all just a mess. 

"Salazar, your pathetic." You murmured in disgust. 

She yelled something at you couldn't understand, not that you cared to, you were pretty sure it involved the words slut and whore multiple times. 

"Well I best be off" you smiled, "As said in Shakespeare's Coriolanus, Act 2 Scene one, 'More of your conversation would infect my brain.'" And with that you turned on your heel and left the room, green robes billowing neatly behind you. 

A few days past, and as much as you tried to hide it, your world collapsed. Of course this had nothing to do with Marleen or any of her prideful, idiotic friends, this didn't have anything to do with school at all.

It had to deal with your home. You had officially decided that being pure blood sucked. Your whole life had been planned out for you and you didn't want to do even one thing on the pre planned timeline of your life. 

The first thing directly after graduation was marriage. 

You had been attempting to put this one off the longest, you were definitely not the type to settle down and start a family. In fact the idea made you gag. You didn't even like the commitment of a date, let alone of a marriage certificate. 

So when you mother sent you a letter containing a list of names. Your heart sunk to the floor. 

The top of the letter read, "My dearest daughter, as you know you are set to be married soon after graduation. Many young men have asked for your hand, me and your father picked the best of the best for you to choose from. I hope all is going well." And then a list of 11 names, some you had never heard of and some, you sat next to during your meals or studied with after class. 

The thought of marrying any of them made you feel empty inside. You didn't love any of them and you weren't sure you would ever be able to love any of them. 

But you said it yourself, love is bullshit.

This fact didn't stop you from being pushed into a dark hole by your mother's words. She wanted an answer by Christmas break, and hell, you hadn't been able to make a stable decision since you received the letter. 

It started with a party after Slytherin beat Hufflepuff in quidditch. That also happened to be the day you were sent a reminder of your impending doom. So alcohol solved all of your problems for a couple hours and you woke up in the bed of a Ravenclaw you didn't recognize. 

The next day you had an exam you failed which resulted in a mental breakdown that left you dehydrated with a migraine. 

You had downed seven Advils and passed out on your bed by eight. 

The next day your headache had progressed, you had taken an absurd amount of medication to ease the pain that day, you ended up in the locker rooms with a Gryffindor beater.

And now here you were already a quarter bottle deep of firewhisky staring at the list of names scrawled neatly on the tear stained parchment gripped tightly in your hand. 

You glared down at the grounds so far below you, wondering what it would be like if you just jumped. You wondered who, if anyone, would actually care. You wondered if Marleen and her bitchy friends would laugh, you wondered if, some would say you deserved it. They probably would. 

This brought a bubbly giggle to your lips, before the bottle you were holding drowned them. 

You glanced back down at the list. So far you had crossed out two names you would never marry even with a wand held to your neck. 

One was Lestrange, the other Malfoy. The thought of their hands touching you, lips on yours, made you gag. 

You glanced back down at the list circling your current top choice, you would have to do some research on the names you didn't recognize, they must go to a different school. 

You brought the cool glass of the bottle back to your lips, sighing slightly at the burning taste it brought with it. 

You let a few more tears slide down your  cheeks, one dripping lazily off your chin, you watched it disappear into the dark grounds below. For just a second it shimmered in the moonlight appearing to be a drop of pure silver, before it disappeared into the night.

You let out a heart broken sob before letting the stars see the bottom of your bottle. 

Just then you heard a short cough. 

You turned to see Sirius Black, he was adorned in a pair of black ripped jeans a queen t-shirt matched with his signature black leather jacket.

You glanced down at your own appearance, black skinny jeans, tares in each knee, white t-shirt that read "Fuck Off" in black letters and of course your signature black leather jacket. 

He so seemed to be eyeing your appearance. Yiu suspicions were confirmed when he spoke, "I see you've copied my style y/l/n." 

"You wish," you laughed, "I'm pretty sure your the one copying my style." 

He rolled his eyes before walking to your side and staring down at the shimmering of midnight dew on frosted grass. 

"What is Sirius Black doing alone up in the astronomy tower at night?" You asked curiously, offering him your bottle which he took, downing a quick swig, grimacing slightly. 

"I could ask you the same." He huffed glancing at you, taking in the wetness of your cheeks and red tinge in your eyes. 

"Well I asked first." You pointed out before glancing at him as he brought the bottle back to his lips. 

Sirius shrugged passing the liquor back to you. "I guess I just needed some alone time." 

"Guess I ruined that, didn't I." You smirked lazily. 

"Nah," Sirius sighed waving your comment away with his hand, "I didn't have a fire whiskey anyway." His smile was dopey, his hair drooping in front of his stormy grey eyes. 

You let out a giggle, taking another swig from the bottle. 

"So why are you up here." He asked teasingly. 

You grimaced taking another sip. 

Sirius waited for a response for a minute but as he watched you avoid his gaze he realised you weren't going to answer. He sighed sadly, "Come on, you gotta be drowning something with that shit." He motioned to the bottle your lips were closed around. 

You chuckled lazily, "Myself I guess." 

He let out a snort, something you've never seen him do, you simply assumed it was the alcohol getting to him.

Sirius glanced at your paper and before you could whip the list away he gasped.

"Why is my brother on your list!?" He asked in alarm. 

You said nothing feeling tears reach your eyes, the last thing you wanted was someone you barely knew knowing what was slowly tearing you apart. 

"And why is his name circled!?" 

You cringed tears pricking your eyes, Sirius glanced at you, flushing a bit at your glassy eyes, you weren't one to show emotions, seeing you smile alone was a rare opportunity, that was if you only counted sincere grins, not deadly smirks. But crying, he couldn't recall seeing you crying or hearing of you crying from anyone, he figured that you had about the emotional range of a teaspoon. 

But here you were tears sliding solemnly down your cheeks, moonlight causing the drops to shimmer like rare gems. 

"Is this some sick kill list or something?" 

No response, just tears, leaking silently from your deep y/e/c eyes. 

"Because if you mess with him I swear-" 

A choked laugh escaped you crimson lips, your tongue swiping some lipstick from them. "I'm not going to hurt you brother." You then handed him the note and turned, your back facing the window you were gazing from and sliding to the floor. 

Above you Sirius eyes widened as he read the note left by your mother before processing the list below. 

He glanced down at you, your mascara was leaking slightly from the corner of your eyes, your hair was a bit tangled, your hand wrapped around the neck of your bottle as you brought it to your lips, leaving a bit of deep red lipstick on its rim. He recognized the look on your face. It was completely vacant, despite the tears, no emotion lived in your features. 

Your eyes blank and staring, mouth a straight line, not turning up or down. Your whole face was simply empty. Sirius remembered seeing that face in his mirror after he received a letter from home. And he knew that you felt how you looked. Empty.

He sighed, sliding to the floor beside you. Your long black nails came to your face furiously wiping at the tears on your cheek, refusing to meet his eye. 

"I know this doesn't matter to you but 11 guys wanting to marry you is pretty good." Sirius shrugged attempting to lighten your mood

You emitted what was either a sob or a laugh, he couldn't tell, "There were more, my mom cut out the ones that she didn't think were 'acceptable'" you made air quotes with your hands. 

"Damn." The Gryffindor huffed, "What does the circle around Regs name mean?" He asked he didn't want to push you but he had to know. Because for some reason, he didn't want it to mean what he thought it did. 

You fidgeted with the end of your jacket, leaning your head back against the rock wall behind you. "He's my top choice." You mumbled, blushing a bit, another thing that Sirius had never seen you do, even when your sex life became everyone's life. 

Sirius cringed, feeling dread soak into his bones and fill him to the brim, the idea of the y/h/c in front of him marrying his younger brother made him sick. "W-why?" He stumbled lightly over his words as they seemed to get caught in his throat. 

You finally met his eyes, they seemed to swirl with different shades of grey like a hurricane with a black eye. 

"I don't know." You voice was rough, sounded like it was a tap away from breaking, "Hes nice, polite, attractive. He's not a complete perv." 

Sirius now wore a sly smirk, the corners of his lips curving up neatly, "You think Regulus is attractive?" 

You rolled your eyes, "Yes, of course I do, jawline like that don't grow on trees." 

Sirius let out a barking laugh, you could feel his shoulder shake beside you. 

You exhaled loudly rolling your eyes again before handing the bottle to Sirius. He glanced at the almost empty bottle than back at you eyebrows raised in a silent question. 

You shrugged, "High tolerance." 

"You know that isn't good right?" 

"No Black," you drawled sarcastically, "I'm as stupid as you are."

He smacked his hand to his chest and mimicked a shocked expression you felt your eyes roll instinctively in their sockets. 

He dropped the act and chuckled finishing off the bottle with a final swig. "So if you think my brothers hot, where does that leave me?" 

"God Black, don't you think your head is big enough already?" You inquired, raising an eyebrow. 

"Humor me." He smiled pulling out a pack of smokes. 

You took a cigarette, holding it out for him to light, "Fine, yes you are extremely attractive." 

He flashed a set of pearly straight teeth, the warm orange light from his lighter reflecting from them as he lit the smoke you held out to him. 

"How bout me?" You asked after taking a huff and watching as the smoke from your exhale trailed away. 

Sirisu hummed in confusion.

"You know, humor me, how attractive am I?" You asked nonchalantly.

Sirius suddenly felt color rise to his cheeks, he hoped you would blame it on the alcohol. The truth was no girls really asked him what he thought. Well that's a lie, they ask if he thought they were pretty all the time. Asked if he thought they were good enough. But never like this. They all cared, they would burst into tears if he answered wrong. They would hate him for an answer and love him for another. 

But not you. You didn't care in the slightest. He could have said he would have rather fucked a lizard than you and you would have shrugged and continued with the conversation. And something about that made Sirius flush. 

"Well? Don't tell me I'm that bad." You giggled, although your tolerance was high, the alcohol was definitely getting to you. 

Sirius quickly gained back his charms, "My dear y/n, trust me you are gorgeous." 

"Thank you." You smiled suggestively adding a wink that made Sirius stomach fill with wings. 

There was a long pause, the sound of crickets and small frogs chirping faint in your ears. Smoke drifted from the room as a crisp chill filled the air. 

Finally Sirius spoke, "So your really gonna marry my brother?" 

You cringed at the word marry scratching at your wrist nervously, "I guess so. What other choice do I have?" 

"You could leave." Sirius muttered putting out his cigarette on the wall behind him. 

"No I can't." You all but whispered.

"Yes you can y/n, no offense but your parents are assholes, you don't need them."

"No Sirius!" You yelled voice loud and echoing off the open room, "I can't." Your voice had dropped once again, your words almost inaudible."I can't." You repeated face once again empty of emotion. He watched in horror as you put your smoke out on your own skin. He could hear it sizzle in protest for just a moment before the small orange glow disappeared. 

"Why?" He asked annoyed, "What are you scared?" 

"Yes!" You shouted. Sirius' eyes widened in surprise and for a brief moment fear as you turned toward him in anger. "You wanna know why I can't leave? Because last time I tried to leave I almost died!"

Sirius eyes filled with guilt. His annoyed look turning to one of pity. 

"You think I haven't tried to leave? I have! The second my mom mentioned marriage I packed my bags! But when my mother and father caught me trying to sneak out they used two of three of the unforgivable curses on me to get me to stay!"

Sirius winced, feeling the pain from far away memories returning to him. 

"So I can't leave. They'll kill me. I know they will." 

Sirius said nothing. He simply sat staring straight ahead. You expected him to say some inspirational bullshit or just tell you to go for it, but he didn't. He just handed you another cigarette and lit it for you. 

Your face had been sucked of all signs emotion except for one tear rolling slowly down you right cheek. It had cooled from the midnight air and now felt like a drop of ice slowly melting down your warm cheeks. 

You could feel the alcohol slowly affecting you as if it was finally catching up with you. You could feel the rational parts of yourself drift away and just then it was occurring to you that you had been irrational since the long haired boy walked in. You turned towards him, head fuzzy, stomach buzzing, and he turned to you. 

Your eyes locked grey staring into y/e/c as y/e/c stared into grey. You blinked twice, attempting to make a decision. All you could think about was how empty you felt. How much you wanted to feel something. Sirius could do that. He could make you feel something. Something. 

Your lips connected with his sloppily, your nose bumping his, as you dropped your smoke, hands connecting with his hair as he fought for dominance in your mouth. You didn't taste anything but fire whiskey and cigarettes, nothing different than what you tasted of. His tongue explored your mouth as Sirius pulled you onto his lap. You felt his hands roam your body enjoying they pressure they held on your hips as his lips passed down your neck. Seconds before your memory fade to black, you remembered thinking how much different Sirius' hands felt on your skin than anyone else. 

You woke to a familiar sight. Well by familiar you mean unfamiliar, but unfamiliar had become familiar to you. You could feel a warm arm wrapped around your bare waist, your head pounding behind your eyes as a bare chest pressed to your back. 

You could also hear whispers. They were hushed and quick, you could only make out a few words.

"How did he-" a pause of mumbles 

"That's so-" more incoherent words, "I mean what about the…" the murmurs sunk to low for your ears to pick up. 

You opened your eyes slowly opened, you turned to see three boys who you recognized immediately staring at you. They all flushed realizing you were awake but before they could speak you brought your finger to your mouth. 

"Be quiet." You hissed dangerously, wincing at the sudden stab behind your head. 

They all nodded slowly, wide eyes trading for confused ones. You slowly slipped from the bed, doing everything in your power to not wake the boy sleeping next to you. 

You let out a sigh of relief hearing Sirius snore quietly, something you found yourself thinking was adorable. You turned to see the three boys staring at you in awe, shot them a smirk as you gathered your clothes sliding on your panties and bra. You could feel their eyes follow you around the room, honestly you didn't mind in the slightest. 

You turned after grabbing your jeans they were all bright red, James smirking as the other two refused to meet your eye. You felt your lips twitch into a wolfish grin. 

"Enjoy it while you can boys, this will be the last time you see it." 

James let out a hearty laugh as Peter looked away Remus blushing amazingly red. 

"Except you." You pointed at the werewolf "You might see this again." You winked as he sputtered for words.

You slid on your t-shirt snatching your jacket from the ground. "Hopefully I'll see some of you again very soon." you winked, eyes locked with Remus as he grew impossibly warmer. 

You then walked promptly from the dorm room, earning a few glances, but you didn't care, you walked swiftly to your own common room, muttering the password and entering. A few first years looked up before whispering to each other. You rolled your eyes heading to your dorm. You were greeted by a pissed off pair of deep brown eyes adorned in yellow robes.

"You said you would study with me this morning!" Harper scrolled you. 

"I can still study!" You fought back, calling on to your bed.

"Please." Your friend scoffed, "Your hung over and what ever boy you got back from fucking is going to wake up and look for you." 

You laughed, "Please." 

"They always look for you because your too pussy to tell them you only wanted to get laid."

"Trust me this guy is not going to look for me." You assured her as you stood rummaging through your things for something to dull the pain in your head. 

"They always look." Harper said with a roll of her eyes.

"This guy won't." You promised tossing back some advils you found.

"Is he dead?" She asked sarcastically. 

"No." 

"Then he'll look for you." She stated matter of factly. 

"Look its Sirius Black he's not going to look for anyone." You sighed, and for some reason this realization brought you nothing but pain. The idea of him not caring hurt. But you weren't sure why. It's not like you cared. 

"You slept with Black?" Harper gasped.

"Yes" you rolled your eyes, "Half the school has done it, it's not that big of an accomplishment." 

Harper let out a magnificent laugh, "That's true. Now come on, if you can study, let's study." 

It was in your firm belief that Sirius would not look for you, talk to you or even mention you, but boy did you wish he would. As you walked down to the library you found your self craning your neck to catch a glimpse of his glossy black hair or his dashing grin. But you saw no such thing, he didn't care. You reminded yourself, and neither do you.

You had run into the younger Black brother though. He had greeted you and Harper politely despite the Hufflepuffs half-blood status. He had even carried the books you had been struggling with for you. He walked you to the library sharing a small conversation before heading to breakfast.

"Are you gonna choose him?" Harper asked, "He gives off like a mysterious, proper sorta vibe."

You darkened slightly at the memory of choosing your betrothed, making Harper regret her decision on topics of decisions, mumbling an apology. 

You waved her off, "I don't know." Your awnser was honest, you had no fucking clue. 

"Well, I think Black is a pretty good choice, he's nice, he's polite, not to mention really hot." She shrugged attempting to lighten the mood. 

"Yeah he is." You hummed thinking of a different Black. 

Harper didn't miss the distance your eyes held. Something was up with you. Not just the shit with your family but something else. 

But before she could ask a booming voice called out your name. 

Both girls turned to meet eyes with four boys. Two hanging back slightly as the other two headed straight towards your table. 

"They always look." Harper mumbled beside you, but you couldn't hear her over the rushing in your ears. Your heart began to speed as the pair of grey eyes you had looked for this morning shined brightly at you. 

"Yes, Black?" You asked casually as if you didn't feel like suddenly throwing up. 

"Left quite early this morning." He sneered playfully plopping into the chair next to you. 

"Well your snoring woke me." You lied turning back to your work attempting to ignore the pressure his stare held on you. 

"Also gave the boys quite a show." He shrugged, "Didn't know you were into Remus." 

You ignored Harpers confused glance and Remus' flushing face behind you. 

"Please." You scoffed, "We all know I'm flirty by nature." 

Sirius felt his heart squeezed, he really didn't mean anything to you. Who cares you didn't mean anything to him. "I guess we do." He huffed feeling suddenly overwhelmly sad. He glanced up at you, your y/h/c hair framing your soft face, y/e/c eyes glinting your pretty pink lips pulled to a lopsided grin. God how he wanted to feel them against his skin again. 

"Is there a reason for your visit?" You asked impatiently, not liking the queasy feeling that his presence gave you. 

"Oh, umm y-yes." Siriua stumbled on his words. "I have your jacket." He shoved the leather jacket he was holding at you. "I think you have mine." 

You flushed, "Oh, sorry, it's in my room. I can go get it I'd you-" 

"Its fine." Sirius assured you, placing his hand on your shoulder. The touch felt electric, like a spark that will set off a bomb. Sirius eyes roamed you landing on the dark marks he left on the open skin on your neck. You bathed in crimson when you noticed where his eyes lingered. 

"Sirius!" James voice brought him back to reality. The boy removed his hand from your shoulder and snapped his eyes back to your own. 

"I'm, I'm sorry." He stuttered scratching the back of his neck. 

"It's fine." You smiled weakly. 

"So um I'll, I'll just go." He tumbled banging his knee as he stood, he swore as James let out a barking laugh. 

"Wait what about your jacket?" Harper called after him.

"Just bring it to me whenever." He spoke hurriedly, he needed to get out of there. 

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding when he exited the room. 

Harper looked at your eyebrows raised.

"What?" You asked attempting to turn your attention back to your essay. 

"You're blushing." She pointed out, "You never blush." 

"I am not blushing." You huffed angrily even though you could feel your face glow. 

"Yeah sure." Harper drawled eyeing you skeptically.

"I'm not!" You exclaimed.

"Totally." She said narrowing her eyes. 

"Stop saying it like that!" You shouted.

"Like what." 

You let out a frustrated whimper grabbing your things and heading for the doors. "I was not blushing!" You added quickly before retreating to your common room, cheeks still burning. 

The next week was weird, it was like someone had flipped a switch to make you like everyone else. 

Suddenly you became awkward and clumsy, you blushed and stuttered when you were nervous. It was all so strange and awkward and it was all because of him. 

Sirius Blafk had done something to you. You didn't know what it was and you did not care for it in the slightest. Every Time you saw him you hated the way you looked. You suddenly began to wonder if your makeup was too dark or if your hair was too messy. When you passed him in the hall, you felt your throat close and your stomach do flips. 

In charms you couldn't focus anymore. He was alway right across from you laughing with his friends and playing pranks on Snape. You were now constantly biting your long nails, something you had never done before, you had begun to find your mind wandering subjects you didn't want it to. It was if you had lost all control of your thoughts. And you had. 

Sirius found himself in a similar situation. Suddenly your image planted itself into his brain and your voice rang in your ears. He saw you everywhere. The more he tried to get you away from him, the closer you became. He had become moody, everything would make him feel something, every little thing made him fight with an emotion, he wasn't accustomed to so much ... feeling. It was like someone had turned into a fourteen year old girl. It was terrible. To make things worse you were always with someone else, something that made him feel unexplainable fury. Every Time he saw you giggle with Avery or smile at Diggory his heart would clench, pausing slightly before he continued on, his mood soured. To make things worse Regulus never seemed to leave your side. He was carrying your books to class, sitting with you at meals, studying with you in the library. Why did Regulus get to do all that? Why did his little brother get to bathe in the light of your smile so often? That wasn't fair.

The rest of the marauders had noticed the long haired boys sudden mood changes. They had first though he had just had a bad day, but when a day stretched to a week, they had grown concerned. Remus was of course the first to identify the cause, with James lost in emerald eyes, and Peter busy being about as observant as a brick wall, it was pretty much his obligation to do so. He noticed the way Sirius's eyes lingered on you, how he soaked in your form as you passed in the corridor. He saw how Sirius would glare at boys you spoke to, specifically his little brother who seemed to be near you at all times. It didn't take the young werewolf long to put two and two together. Upon his new discovery, he began to pay more and more attention to you. 

He noticed how you avoided Sirius at all costs, he saw the way you blushed when Sirius laughed around you. He also caught you staring across the charms room at the long haired boy when he wasn't paying attention. Everything you did confused him. Because while Sirius seemed head over heels, you either hated him or loved him. It was hard to tell. 

But it wasn't for Harper. She knew you were in love with the older Black brother the second he walked into that library. You didn't even have to do anything. You simply looked at him and she could tell. It was like some alarm going off in her head, telling her what was up. When Harpet first realized this, she attempted to tell herself that she was wrong, it was silly, you didn't 'love'. But then she watched as you blushed and watched and avoided, and she knew you were deep in it. Harper was terrified to bring it up with you. She knew that in a way you already knew, but if she brought it up, made you truly realize, things could get ugly. 

But she couldn't wait any longer. You had to see what was in front of you or you would only get hurt. 

So now the burnet Hufflepuff, paced nervously in your dorm waiting for you to come in. She had a plan in her head, but it still didn't change the fact that she was a nervous wreck. 

Most people would constantly tease their friend if they believed them to be in love, but with you love wasn't an option, you had obligations, not feelings. In fact, you didn't even believe in love. You treated it like some superstition. It wasn't real to you. Not like she could blame you, you were going to be forced to marry some guy you definitely didn't want to at age 17, your parents the same way, and their parents and their parents and their parents. It was a never ending cycle of loveless life. 

Harpers frantic thoughts were interrupted by a loud thump. The girl turned to see you ditching your bag on the floor and huffing to your bed. You fell on to your mattress blankets ripping slightly like someone had tossed a pebble into a smooth lake.

"You okay?" Harper asked cautiously. 

You sat up meeting the pair of green eye scanning you in concern. "Marleen is such a bitch." You stated beginning to pick at your nails. 

"Can't disagree with that." Harper chuckled, "What she do now?" 

"She said I was Sirius 'sloppy seconds' which makes literatly 0 sense. And now she's pinning after him again." You seethed angrily.

"You're in love with him aren't you?" 

Harper's plan just crashed through the window. 

"What?!" You exclaimed."In love? With who? Black!? Never!" 

"Y/n/n, it's not a bad thing to be in love." Harper spoke calmly attempting to soothe your fury. 

"I'm not in love! Love is bullshit!" You had how risen from the bed, your hand clenched into fists beside you.

"Y/n I see the way you look at him I'm not blind! You love him! You get all flustered and weird around him, and I know you know what's going on, you just are too scared to admit it." 

"I'm not scared of shit. I know who I am and what I feel and I'm going to tell you this one time. I. Don't. Love." 

"Everyone loves y/n!" Harper heaved, her eyes desperate for you to understand. How could you not see what was in front of you. But she knew you were blinded by fear. Fear of what most craved. 

"What the hell would you know about love?!" Your voice echoed off the stone walls of the small room, reminding Harper of a jail cell. 

"Clearly more than you!" She huffed back anger sewn delicately into each word she spoke. 

"You will never know more than me you worthless HALFBLOOD!" You spat the last word of your damaging sentence as if it were a bitter taste you were attempting to ride your tongue of. 

Harpera eyes flashed with fear. Not fear of some asshole who you had to kick the shot out of, not of Malfoy, not of one of one of the  boys who had suddenly become aggressive in there chase after you. But fear oif you. She was afraid of you.

The fear left her eyes and was replaced by fury and disgust in a second. Harper walk straight to you practically shaking with rage and she slapped you across your face. You gasped head turning from the impact of her hand. When you turned back she was already practically out of the door. You felt tears slip from your eyes and you shrunk to the floor clutching your cheek. 

It wasn't the pain that hurt. Well it was but it wasn't the pain from the slap. It was the pain that the look in Harpers eyes sent through you. It was the pain from the momentarily fear that ripped through her. It was the pain of you realizing you had just lost your only true friend. 

Your body shook with sobs, the force of your tears making breaths hard to gather. Suddenly the door to your dormitory burst open. 

"Holy shit y/n/n."

You could hardly hear the voice over the echo of your own sobs. But soon a pair of arms wrapped slowly around you lifting you slowly from the floor. You buried your face into the cloak of the boy who now held you in his arms. You took a sharp breath of alcohol and smoke, with an undertone of chocolate.

(Well fuck I hit the word limit. Click THIS for Ending.)

Taglist

@accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @songforhema

[phantom-god-suki]

Precautionary Elegance

Chatter filled the ballroom as more people arrived at the gathering. Every noble in Nightmare was there to either socialize in leisure or with hopes of improving their social image. The elegant dress you were wearing was a bit too pricey for your liking, but at least it accentuated your curves quite nicely. Kaim had to drag you around town all day to find ‘the perfect dress’ for the occasion. On top of that, you were forced to wear this damned corset that made breathing unbearable. However, beauty is pain so you supposed it was worth it. As you observe the ballroom, your eyes unconsciously trailed to the sunshine haired outcast that everyone seems to alienate.

You smile as you see him happily chatting to the lord of the Angels and King, Lucia. After repeating the same cycle for an eternity, he was finally able to liberate you both from the curse. Now that you have your memories back from other timelines, you felt just a tad bit closer to him. No matter how much you tried to be with him though, he always pushed you away. You feel a presence behind you and turn around.

“You will age faster if you keep glaring like that.” A green demon chuckles as he approaches.

“You don't say. Why are you even here Mefy?” You suck your teeth and roll your eyes at him.

“Fine by me hag but if you get old then how am I going to blame you for my pranks?” Mefy muses.

“Oh please. I’ll be a cool granny. Don't you ever think I can't keep up with you. Plus if I'm older than you, you'll have to listen to me for once.” As you were chatting with your frenemy you felt a pair of eyes on you. Mefy notices this and leans into your ear.

“Wanna make your crush jealous?” He whispers. 

“You know this won't work...” You lean in and whisper back. “He said he loves me but lately he has been avoiding me.”

“...There's a word for that you know.” Mefy smirks.          

“Don't you dare say it!” You hit him playfully.

“There might be a way for you to… motivate him” You can see the gears turning in his head as a sly smirk spreads across his face. You can guess what he was planning but was it fair to Lucas? What if he didn’t want you? Doubts in your head started swallowing you.

“Sulking about it wont do you any good. You have to take a risk at some point.” You can tell he was getting impatient.

“You're planning something, aren't you?” 

“Always. Now come on.” He giggles as he grabs your hand and drags you to the balcony away from prying eyes, especially Lucas’.

The cool evening air grazed your skin as you stepped onto the balcony. It was nice to take a breather from over ambitious nobles and all the court drama for a while. The balcony reminded you of some unpleasant memories but you decided to stay on point.

“Ok what's up Mefy? Why did you drag me all the way here?” You said.

Mefy takes out a vile of potion from his many hidden pockets. It was kind of ridiculous how many items he had with him at all times. It's like he had a warehouse in his pockets but considering his magical abilities it might not be far from the truth.

“See this thing? It's a love potion.” He smirks. 

“Love… potion…?” You give him a look of suspicion.

“What's with that look? You don't trust me?” He asks in a sickly sweet voice.

“Fuck no.”

“Aww come on. Have I ever lied to you?” He says as you remember when he used you in alternate timelines. 

“Literally all the time but okay. Ugh just give me this ‘love potion’.” 

“Sure. But you owe me a BIG favor, got it?” Mefy skips away and you sigh, wondering if this was a good idea or not.

You had a basic understanding of potions from living in Nightmare for a while and all your alternate memories. They’re not any different from drugs in the human world. You hid the vial of potion in your sleeve before you entered the ballroom. What you are about to do is really not fair and Lucas does deserve better but so do you. You were sick of being pushed away and not getting any answers from him. Desperate times require desperate measures.

You walk to the drink fountain and grab two drinks for Lucas and yourself. You carefully pour the liquid into Lucas’ drink. You were scared for a moment that the contents in the vile would change the color of the wine but luckily that didn't happen. With both drinks in your hand you seek out Lucas. You find him at the food table eating a cupcake.

“Hey Lucas,” You approach him like a predator stalks her unsuspecting prey. “I got you a drink.” You smile sweetly. 

“Oh thank you Y/N.” He smiles forcefully. You're not sure if it's that he is tired or pissed that you were with Mefy a couple moments ago. He tends to get awfully protective of you whenever you get close to Mefy or Ricardo. And you can understand why though. 

“Ever since you became the advisor I never got a chance to talk to you. I missed you a lot you know.” 

“I'm sorry it's been really stressful lately. Not all nobles are happy with the decisions that Lucia made.” He says as he takes a sip. Bingo. You get a surge of arousal just by looking at his neck and collarbones. He was a model in your eyes.

“Y/N?” His question snaps you back to reality. 

“Sorry, I couldn't hear that part.” You answer sheepishly.

“I was just saying if we could go somewhere else. It's really stuffy here.” 

With that you started following Lucas through many many identicals hallways the castle had. You reached out and grabbed his hand nonchalantly. 

“So where are we heading?” You can a sharp inhale escape from Lucas’ mouth.

“Planetarium. So we could get a breather. I'm so sick of the nobles but don't tell them that” He winks. 

The planetarium was huge. In fact, huge was an understatement. Above you was a dome shaped glass that made the stars seem bigger than they actually are. By the time you arrive you can hear the subtle huffing coming from Lucas. You ignore it and stare up at the sky.

“They are beautiful.” You say looking up at the constellations.

“Yes… they are..” He replies while looking at you. Lucas was really warm. He had a cute blush on his face already. The potion was working wonderfully. 

“Did I take your breath away Lucas? You are blushing” You nudge his side smirk. 

“O-oh it’s just a little warm in here that's all haha.” He shyly averts his gaze. 

Both of you sit at the bench in the planetarium and talk about your daily lives as if nothing was wrong. You decide to make a move and scoot a little closer to him until you can feel his warmth but he moves away. You get closer again and he moves away once again until he has nowhere else to move on the bench. 

You put your arms around his shoulders. 

“Y/N? W-what are you doing?” He whimpers pathetically. You lean to his ear and whisper. 

“I missed you Lucas. You never pay visits anymore.” 

“I-Im sorry it's just Lucia and the nobles-” He shudders and takes a sharp breath as you lick his ear. 

“That's no excuse Lucas~” You got him where you wanted. It's like he was under your love spell. Well he is under the potions influence literally. You sit on his lap so he can't escape. Not this time. The games end tonight whether it ends in your favor or not.

Lucas wraps his arms around you. Poor Lucas you thought. It was bitchy of you to do this but the look on his face was delicious. Droopy eyes, face red as a tomato, winded. You barely touched him and he was wrecked already.

“Do you love me Lucas?” You whisper against his lips.

“I do… more than anything…” The way he was rocking his hips sent shivers up your spine. This is all you’ve ever wanted. Him between your legs… where he belonged. 

“Prove it baby…” You murmured. His eyes were glossed with a dark, desperate and lustrous look. He was very motivated as Mefy would say. Even though there was no one but you in the planetarium, this was a public space.

‘What if someone walks in on you. Maybe this wasn't the right time-’ He worried to himself.

His thought process comes to a halt when you roughly grab his hair and slammed your lips against his. You can feel a deep shiver run through him. The taste of his lips were sweet probably by the cupcake he was sampling earlier. He let out soft whimpers and pulled your body closer to him as he was easing up. If only he was inside of you… You started removing his clothes and revealed his pale skin. 

“W-Wait! What if someone hears-” 

“Then we'll just have to be really quiet.” You smile at him. “Let me help you”

You got up from Lucas’ lap and easily stripped of your evening gown to reveal lacy lingerie. Lucas gasps and covers his face.

“Lucas… I want you to look at me…” With that you started touching yourself sensually and swaying your body to an imaginary song. Lucas was looking at you from the gap between his fingers. The damn corset was limiting your movements to an extent but it wasn’t so bad. You grab the strap of your bra and let it slide over your shoulders. You then toss the undergarment onto the ground in a whimsical manner. His eyes wander around your body before fixating on your chest. “Oops.” you say cheekily as if you accidentally dropped your bra. In a single gracious movement, you bend over, pretending to pick up your bra. You can feel his gaze on your ass intensify as you begin to peel off your panties in front of him and show how excited he made you. It seemed like Lucas forgot how to breathe after seeing your little stunt. You sit on his lap again and grind yourself against his thigh.

“This is what you do to me Lucas...” You moan. With shaky hands he grabs your waist and pulls you closer. It's like you were made out of glass and he was afraid of breaking you. You grab his hands and put them on your breast. 

“Touch me…” You say before resuming the kiss. He was a lot more eager to please you. Lucas started massaging your soft breasts while kissing you hungrily. You quickly unzip his pants and pull down his underwear to reveal his erection. Just looking at it his member makes your mouth water. A slight glistening on the tip of his cock suggests how aroused he already is.  When you grab it and give it a jerk, Lucas can't help but moan loudly against your lips. You break the kiss. 

“Ah ah ah Lucas... You need to be quiet or we'll get caught...” You tease him.

“It feels s-so good.. I can't stop it…” He stutters softly. 

“Well I did say I would help you…” Lucas squealed in shock when you stuff your panties in his mouth. The taste of your juices spread on his tongue and muffled moans emerged from his throat as his lips pursed over your panties. You resumed stroking his manhood as Lucas threw his head back in pleasure and exposed his neck. It was too tempting not to mark him like this. You pepper his neck with kisses before focusing on a certain area to mark. His body convulsed in pain and pleasure when you sank your teeth into his soft flesh. You tasted a slight tang of iron as you broke the skin. His cock started tensing up in your grip signaling his inevitable release. Lucas trembled when his orgasm hit him like a train. He spurts his hot load all over your chest and corset. You remove your panties from his mouth so he could breathe easier. The advisor took a big gulp of air as he tried to compose himself. You then bring your fingers to your lips and taste him while looking intensely at Lucas.

“I'm glad you enjoyed yourself” You teased.

“Y/N… why..?” He whimpered shakily. “Of all of them… why me..?” Tears welled in his eyes. The sound of his sorrowing echoed through the planetarium's walls. Your blood ran cold for a second. What was he referring to? Does he hate you now?

“L-Lucas?”

“I'm not like you!.. I'm not even like them. All my life, I’ve had a single purpose. To save Nightmare...I wasn't meant to have you...” He says while breaking down. You breathe a sigh of relief while tears of sorrow run down his cheeks. 

Lucas tensed up when you embraced him. “I know but.. It's not like that anymore. We saved this world. Together. Now we can be free.” You kiss his tears then softly kiss his lips. This kiss was more passionate than all the rest. You left little pecks on his lips before slipping in your tongue. He kisses you back almost immediately while his hands explore every crevice of your body.

“Lucas please… I want you in me…” You whimpered. He takes you by surprise when he lifts your hips and slams you down his cock, filing you to the hilt, stretching you. Lucas waited for you to get adjusted to his girth for a moment. “God you feel amazing… so warm and tight... “ Lucas growls against your ear.

After getting used to his size you started grinding your hips against his. Lucas was still somewhat sensitive from his previous orgasm but he didnt care. Pleasure was consuming his mind, throwing all the reason from the window. Both of you were trying to hold back your moans but with each thrust it was getting more difficult. Then suddenly you found your back on the bench. Lucas was on top of you, looking at you with an intense expression.

“Even though I still feel like I don’t deserve you, I am going to cherish you with all of my heart.” He softly smiles and kisses your cheek before starting to move. As soon as he thrusts inside, you wrap your arms around his body and dig your nails into his back. 

“Fuck...Lucas...your huge cock feels so good inside of my tight pussy.” Lucas clenches his teeth and starts to move faster. He leans down to suck on your nipples. He licks one nipple while flicking the other one with his fingers. 

“Princess… You are doing so great… I love you so much.” He moves faster while lifting up his head to place soft kisses on your neck and lets out small moans. You shiver every time you hear his beautiful moans on your body. It didn't take long for you to reach the edge of climax.

“Lucas...please...more. I’m gonna cum.” You feel drool running down your cheek. Lucas licks your cheek and leans into your ear.

“Come for me then.” You whimper and melt with his words. You can’t hold back anymore and cum. His pace became erratic and you could hear the low growls in his throat become louder and louder. He is about to pull out but you lock your legs around him and pull him closer gently.

“It’s okay Lucas...You can come inside.” He smiles and lets out a loud groan before releasing inside of you. He collapses on top of you and hugs your shaking body. 

“Y/N...Are you alright? Are you hurting anywhere? ” Lucas breathes into your neck and leaves a light kiss. 

“I… I’m okay Lucas. I love you. Please never say that you don't deserve me.” You lean into Lucas’ head and stroke his hair.

“Alright Y/N. Thank you so much for accepting me… I love you so much.” You can hear a little sniffle as he nods his head. “Can you stand up? Let me help you.”

“I can stand but i don’t think I can walk properly after such a performance.” Lucas blushes at your words and helps you stand. He grabs your dress and helps you put it on. He then sits you down while he gets dressed. 

“You're so handsome… It makes me want seconds~” You smirk as you stand up by yourself. 

“Just wait till I get you in bed then. I won't be holding back.” He chuckles as you reach over and smack his ass. His back jolts up and he turns to get revenge but you are already wobbling away. He smiles and walks slowly behind you to admire the stars for just a little longer. You make your way back to the hall and feel an arm wrap around you. You look to see Lucas smiling softly at you. You both enter the hall holding each other. You look around before seeing Mefy at the drink table sipping wine. He spots you and smirks while lifting his glass. You chuckle while Lucas looks at you genuinely confused. 

“What is up with that little gremlin?” He squint his eyes and whispers to you. 

“Ahh nothing honey, he's just being dumb~” You laugh his comment off. 

“What else is new.” Lucas rolls his eyes while grabbing you closer and pulling you in for another kiss before saying. 

“I can't wait for tonight.” 

[things2mustdo]

I went to visit my family for Thanksgiving, and as usual, I was confronted with numerous blue pill beliefs. While I’m no longer annoyed by these things, because I’ve gone through the “Return Journey” phase of swallowing the red pill, I did notice something that was extremely disturbing.

As I grew tired of arguing over basic political, economic, and gender points, I meandered downstairs to my family’s recreation room. There was a group of my younger relatives, aged 16-20, watching some show on Netflix about trans-gendered individuals.

I don’t know what the show was called, but one thing that really struck me was the show’s uncanny ability to use emotionally charged scenes and drama to elicit a feeling of compassion for the characters. In other words, numerous TV shows are now starting to take advantage of our natural empathy, and using it to sway our political and social opinions.

Emotionally Gripping

As I stood behind the couch watching a few minutes of this transgender show, I saw a very heart wrenching scene take place. Although the nuances of the story line were lost to me, I gathered enough information to see what was going on.

Basically, some guy was getting surgery to turn into a woman. As he was in the operating room, something went terribly wrong, and despite the surgeons’ desperate attempts to save him, he ended up perishing.

The following scene was comprised of extremely grief-inducing piano music played to various clips of the man’s children all mourning their loss. While this may seem innocuous, or like it’s just “creative, dramatic television,” I believe that it’s actually something far more sinister.

What’s going on here, is that the elites (because remember, this is a top down operation) are trying to traumatize the average American youth with images of the “horrors that transgender people go through!” They’re using television to create these emotional “triggers,” if you will, that will be ignited anytime someone says something against transgenders.

In other words, the trauma that occurs from becoming engrossed in this TV show (in our example) leaves an emotional residue of sorts, so that whenever the topic of transgenderism is brought up in conversation, the viewer subconsciously remembers the emotions associated with the topic which the TV show implanted into his mind.

Emotional Triggers

This became abundantly clear to me as I was arguing with a friend from the West Coast over transgenderism. I very calmly said that I believe it’s a mental illness, and should be treated as such. I said that these people need help, and we shouldn’t encourage them. I backed my assertion by referencing how the chief psychologist at Johns Hopkins Hospital has vehemently called out doctors who perform transgender surgeries as “collaborating with a mental illness for profit.”

Despite my calm and collected assertions, she grew EXTREMELY emotional and automatically assumed a whole host of things about me:

I’m a disgusting, careless sociopath

I have no sympathy for others’ suffering and I’m a cold-hearted bastard

I vehemently hate anyone who’s different than me

Despite the fact that none of these things are true, it became clear to me why she automatically believed this about me: the TV shows that she watches had been subtly implanting little emotional biases into her brain. This is how manipulative our “real” media is.

What happened, in psychological terms, was that as I was calmly explaining my perspective on transgenderism, her subconscious was flooded with all of the EMOTIONS that she associates with the topic:

All of the pain and grief she experienced from TV shows depicting transgender “issues”

How Bruce Jenner is a “hero,” and how much mainstream “opposition” he encountered when coming out

All of the anger she experienced when the token “anti-transgender person” in each show was a huge dick to the main character (more on this in the next section)

All rational thought was completely stopped, as she had literally been trained to elicit a certain response whenever the topic of transgenderism is brought up. Do you see my point? By repeatedly exposing people to scenes that elicit sympathy for transgenders, the media is engineering a widespread social response in favor of it.

Token Characters

As I alluded to before, another underhanded tactic that mainstream TV shows use is that they never have a rational, level-headed man who supports traditional marriage and normal heterosexuality. Any time someone in mainstream media doesn’t support the main character’s disorder, he’s always portrayed as a complete asshole.

This can take the form of him beating up the main character, bullying the main character, or what have you. I recall several years ago there was ample talk at the work place over some “anti-homosexual” character in glee that smothered a smoothie onto a guy just because he was homosexual, or something ridiculous like that.

Despite the fact that NOBODY I know would do something like this, the elite-sponsored TV utilizes token characters in order to implant a certain idea into our heads—the idea that everyone who opposes deviant sexual orientations is a cold-hearted bully. I recall that this was pointed out to me by a Catholic high school teacher, and it didn’t make any sense to me back then (before homosexuality was normal).

Now, in retrospect, I’m extremely thankful that he planted that seed in my class’s mind. The more that I look at television through this lens, the more I see what he was talking about. There’s never a level-headed, confident, genuine man that has game, either. It’s always either a completely meek beta male, or a chauvinistic “bad boy” Hank-Moody type character (although I do love me some Hank Moody).

This phenomena is taken even further as the transgender or homosexual person in mainstream TV is almost always portrayed as some brave, sweet, sensitive soul, with a hard life. In other words, the elites are engineering a dichotomy as Roosh has referenced before.

The dichotomy is that you’re either a sweet, empathetic, gentle-hearted person who supports transgenderism and deviant sexual preferences, or you’re a complete asshole who bullies and berates people just because “you’re mean.” This use of labeling brainwashes others into IMMEDIATELY putting you into the “sociopathic jerk” category if you don’t support transgenderism, making any and all rational discourse folly.

Subtle Desensitization

Another terrifying event that comes to mind of the media’s disgusting methods was when I was watching a popular kid’s TV show known as “Adventure Time,” a year or two ago. Again, I was with my family for some holiday event (I can’t remember which), and recall some of the kids watching this show.

Despite the fact that it’s labeled as a kid’s show, I saw an insidious little dialogue take place that was meant to desensitize children to pedophilia. In the show, there was some ball going on (I assume it was like a “prom” type deal), and the old wizard was looking for a partner.

He ended up going with some underage girl, who was probably 60 years his prior, and when the main character pointed this out, the old wizard simply stated: “Age…is nothing but a number!” Upon which the characters started dancing and doing comical things to prevent any sort of rational thought occurring after this was said.

After seeing this I became extremely disgusted and turned off the television, but that’s beyond the point. Why is this type of dribble being used to brainwash our youth? Anyone with half a brain can see that the point behind this scene was to start subtly implanting the seeds of pedophilia into a child’s mind.

Again, the words of my wise old Catholic high school teacher come to mind. I’ll never forget when he told me that “in 15 years, pedophilia will become normal.” My entire class was shocked, and couldn’t comprehend such a thing happening. He said this in 2009, and it seems that his prediction is coming true.

“First it will start with the media,” he said. “They’ll have some show where they make jokes about it and they’ll keep the humor very lighthearted, never showing the actual act. They’ll begin the process of desensitizing you, then eventually some politician will bring it up, and it will be an official stance that other politicians will be forced to take. This will begin the process of slowly normalizing it.”

My God was this man spot on, because this is EXACTLY how the media sways our opinions.

Keep in mind that their methods are SUBTLE, and that’s the point—they want to keep it below the level of thought so that you never question what they’re teaching you. Any time a strange or ridiculous belief is asserted, they very quickly move into a joyful scene or celebration to not only prevent you from thinking too much about the ridiculous belief, but to have you associate happiness with it, as well, which brings me to my next point.

Association And Correlation Bias

There’s a very powerful phenomena in psychology known as association; this is sometimes also called the correlation bias, or “Illusory Correlation.” This is basically your mind’s tendency to look for relationships where there aren’t any.

For example, why do you think most modern girls aren’t girlfriend material? Why do you think that the average man is weak, pathetic, and emasculated? It’s because of the media’s tendency to slowly create illusory associations within your mind.

The media causes women to associate happiness and a successful life with the following:

Being a man-hating feminist, who can’t submit to a strong, confident man

Not cooking or cleaning, because that’s “sexist”

Riding the alpha male cock carousel, and not getting married, because marriage is “oppressive”

The media creates a false correlation in women’s minds by constantly portraying bitchy, overly-masculine, slutty women as being empowered, sought-after, and happy. As any man who’s been learning game knows, this is absolute nonsense.

It doesn’t matter, though—once your brain has an association, it’s extremely difficult to get rid of it. This is why so many men are emasculated nowadays. It teaches us to associate:

Being a weak bitch with getting a hot girlfriend

Being a feminist and leftist with having girls think you’re noble and heroic

Courting a slut with being a gentleman

As any modern man who reads the manosphere knows, these are completely fallacious beliefs. Being a weak, low-testosterone man will not in fact land you the girls. Being a screaming leftist who holds those “I’m a feminist because,” signs will not get you the approval of women, and courting a washed up slut does not make you a gentleman (it makes you stupid).

Despite the obvious illogical nature of these beliefs, because the mainstream media has 8 hours a day to indoctrinate us, most men end up buying into them wholeheartedly, and will even berate you for having game when you CLEARLY get more women than them.

“So What Can I Do?”

First things first, stop watching mainstream media. In case you haven’t noticed, the MSM is starting to feel the effects of men waking up; in fact, they’ve recently gone on a long, drawn-out tirade about “fake news,” or in other words, news that is red-pilled.

I haven’t watched mainstream media EVER—the only time that I ever watch MSM is if they’re interviewing a pickup artist, a manosphere blogger, or if I’m trying to debunk their ludicrous reporting. I get almost all of my news from sites like ROK, Danger And Play, Info Wars, Natural News, and the people that I follow on Twitter.

In addition to only consuming a red-pilled information diet, ensure that your children don’t watch TV unarmed. I saw a phenomenal post recently on “How to Raise Red-Pilled Daughters,” and the ROK author talks about how he doesn’t flat out ban TV, but rather teaches his daughters to think rationally and learn to see the foolishness of MSM.

Aside from not watching MSM and raising your family to be skeptical of it, you can also support alternative media sites by simply tuning in. You don’t have to buy any of their products (although it helps); simply giving them your attention and leaving a thoughtful comment or two is enough to generate interest.

All in all, we’re facing extremely tumultuous times. More and more people are starting to break free of the MSM’s grip on their mind, but the men who get left behind end up more brainwashed than ever. Eventually, once the MSM dies, we can begin the long and arduous process of reclaiming our country—and this, my friends, is something I believe is worth fighting for.

Read More: Fact Checking Emotional Propaganda

When I was making a purchase at my local bookstore last week, the cashier solicited me for a donation. This donation was for a charity dealing with sick children or something. I told cashier I came here to buy a book not make donations. I guess she realized I am not one to be guilt tripped into doing things and told me that many people do not have the courage to say no. This pressure to comply due to emotional appeal has run rampant in America. When people make decisions on how they feel or manipulated by their feelings, not many good things can come of it.

Usually I do not delve into the details of the various schemes and manipulations that powerful people do in order to influence people’s behaviors. Someone actually fact checked one sales pitch for the limitation of guns. This exercise in breaking down an argument outside of the emotional shows that emotion is all it has. While the premise is guns, the method is pure emotional appeal.

The Mayor of New York City, Michael Bloomberg has decided to throw his hat in, as well as his capital, in a political fight against the NRA by spending an estimated fifty million dollars to start up Everytown for Gun Safety @ Everytown.org. If you go to his website, one of the articles pops out on the front page is an “analysis” of the over sixty “school shootings” that have taken place since the Newtown massacre on December 12th, 2012.

In this era of political rhetoric and ideological echo-chambers, there is little in the way of fact-checking and realism with statistical data. The media is off  panicking the masses of soccer moms and metrosexual dads that mass shootings are a growing epidemic, apparently none of whom look at the FBI’s Uniform Crime Reports of homicides every year. Of the sixty-two incidents on Everytown’s “analysis”, only one can be classified as a mass murder. The FBI is quite clear that a “mass murder” involves the homicide of four or more individuals with no cooling off period between the murders. The article would lead readers to believe that there have been sixty-two incidents of similar scope as the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting. But this is simply not the case.

With a total combined death toll between the sixty-two “school shootings” of 39, it’s hard to match them up to Newtown, which in one incident saw 28 deaths, including the perpetrator, Adam Lanza. Despite what the media might portray for politics, ratings, or profit, such shootings are exceptionally rare. Of course, a large amount of the focus is on the AR-15 reportedly used,the  gun control advocates would like gullible Americans to think without which Adam Lanza would not have been capable of such carnage. But if you remember the Virginia Tech shooting on April 16th, 2007. Seung-Hui Cho managed to kill 32 people, then himself, with nothing more than a .22LR caliber Walther P22 and 9mm Glock 19; the Walther with a magazine capacity of ten rounds and the Glock a bit more at fifteen. There is little discussion of firearms in the Everytown analysis, probably because they are virtually all handguns or the suggested firearm for home defense of Vice President Joe Biden, a shotgun.

Let’s look at that the lack of analysis this “analysis” gives us, as it’s little more than a picture of a crying woman and a list of schools at which a firearm was discharged on or nearby campus grounds since December 2012. Thirty-nine people dead, because of school shootings, between December 13th, 2012 and mid-April 2014. It’s hard to find statistics for causes of death even near that number. The United States averages roughly 51 deaths due to lightning strikes per year, over the last 20 years; according to NOAA. According to the CDC, there was an average of 3,533 unintentional drownings per year for the years of 2005-2009. Yet where is a politically motivated and affluent billionaire to launch a safety campaign outlining the dangers of pools or thunderstorms?

The fact that Mayor Bloomberg has taken Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel’s now infamous quote “never let a good crisis go to waste” to heart, is no surprise. But who thinks about the political realities of why someone is making moves against one of the GOP’s biggest political lobbies, using a tragedy like Newtown as the crest on their flag; when they are busy being emotionally compromised by the idea of children being gunned down in their school classrooms?

Among the 39 deaths, there is a justified case of self-defense, a possible case of self-defense, and seven cases of nothing more then suicides by firearm. The biggest trend among these “school shootings” is the shooters and victims are young black men. This reality is in stark contrast to the media image of upper-class white elementary school kids gunned down by socially awkward psychopaths with AR-15’s or other “assault weapons”. Few if any of the mainstream gun safety campaigns reflect the reality of gun violence. Remember, you are more likely to be killed by bee stings than you are to be shot on or around a school campus.

In conclusion, this emotional appeal by Mr. Bloomberg seems to be all about coercing a population into following his politics through emotional appeal. His advocacy gives them an audience of motivated people controlled by their emotions. What could a powerful person do with this audience aside from campaign against guns. I signed up at this website to get the newsletter. This newsletter only talks about political activism for those that seem to not be able to make up their own mind. Be aware of those that appeal to your emotion, because they may not appeal to your interests.

Note: The author received help from “Glocktopus”, a member of the notorious “Donk Chat” in writing this article.

[hecohansen31]

Gurl if you got more ideas for them please dish! Lol that's my request, just more of that, whatever your ideas are for them lol

(A/N): Hello sweetie!

I know that I have already started a story about those two, but hey… I literally wrote this supernatural AU (although I don’t know if this could be properly called AU, since Roman is already a supernatural being) a few months ago and it was supposed to be about an OC insert (so if you see Heco, sorry it’s reader) and it was supposed to be actually MichaelxReaderXIvar… but I feel like Roman is just more fitting, so…

I really hope that you’ll enjoy it and if you like this verse please let me know because I literally finished the first chapter of the other fanfic I was working on so I will be working on the smutty continue of this…

Thank you, again for your support lovelY!

(Also I am tagging @walkxthexmoon, since she expressed her love for it, if you want to be tagged into something else… let me know!).

Also, since it is implied but not explained: Ivar is a werewolf, whereas Roman is a vampire (actually a “upir” but both Ivar and Reader tease him calling him “vampire” so I am here doing the same thing!).

WARNINGS: Bad Friends (I literally have to say that each time I am wirting about shitty friends I am like “No, my friends are not like this”, and then they make something… and I am like “this is karma for being assholes), Bitchy Reader, Heavy Flirting and Mentions of Sex and Threesomes.

She couldn’t help but feel a bit betrayed when her friends had sent her into that demonic village, as a birthday gift.

She was almost wondering if they hated her that much

(Was it the fact that she was more successful than them, or the fact that she was the only single one of the group, ruining with her mere presence the life of all its components…).

Because there was no way that journey was a vacation, it was absolutely a punishment of some kind, starting from the fact that her freaking car had stopped working an hour before arriving to the hotel, on a full bus, with her heavy luggage.

She was supposed to spend a weekend as a single lady with her newly broken-up best friend, except…

Except her ex-boyfriend appeared a few days ago, proposing to her and basically blowing off her plans.

If you could call “plans” something which had been thrown on your way.

She still regretted all the books she might have received, instead of being sent in this shithole.

She didn’t mean to judge a book from the cover, or better by the shitty phone reception, and the shitty appearance of the hotel where she was staying for two nights and three days and the shitty shops.

She hoped she might find some kind of bookshop… because that’s where she hoped to spend the days… although there were a lot of bar and liquor shops, maybe people liked to get drunk enough to forget about this shithole.

No, she wouldn’t be judging, not even as it started raining just when she stepped off the bus and reached hurryingly the hotel, almost slamming herself on the closed door, that thank God gave out under a little pressure, allowing her inside and in the warmth of the hall, for which she was thankful.

She spent a few minutes trying to recollect herself and thanking whatever make-up goddess, she hadn’t worn any, alongside collecting from her bag the vacation’s document and her wallet.

She approached the receptionist, a man, bigger than her of a few good inches, and turned around fixing some documents, till she coughed, more because of the cold she had been in than anything else, gaining his attention, or better a very pissed glare.

She almost though about fleeing the scene and checking the buses station, but the glare dissipated as soon as he took her in: she was sure she looked a mess enough to pray for his pity.

-Well… it is raining outside, isn’t it? – he mused almost shyly, immediately leaning on the table of the reception hall, almost as if to be closer to her, making her squeak lightly and in response her social anxiety kicked in, making her shove her folder with the payments and bookings in his face.

He smiled, with his shining blue eyes, taking (very gently for a man of his stature) the documents and setting down his eyes on them, and she almost whined to be robbed of those two spots of ocean, but she tried again just to readjust her appearance, wanting to seem calm and at ease, although she hated doing anything that remotely made her have contact with strangers.

-(Y/N) (L/N)? – he asked and she had to stop herself from saluting him as a freaking soldier, but the voice raspy and rough made him seem like someone who wanted everyone to stand at attention when he spoke to them, so she tried her best, although staring right into the ocean was a bit scary -… but I don’t see any Annie Howin, are you waiting for her? -.

Here came the hard part: explaining her friend had balled out of this “magical adventure” and if she could use a single room, instead of a double…

-… nope…- she almost wanted to slap herself for the childish expression, but the guy looked at her wolfish, clearly amused by the way she had rolled the word, which made her blush (wasn’t it too warm here? Or was she just burning from embarrassment?) -… you see… we were supposed to spend a weekend as singles…-

-You are,,, single?- he seemed  almost surprised by the way she said it, but she tried not to mind the comment too much, spitting out the discourse she had rehearsed for two days.

-… but her ex-boyfriend came back in town and… he proposed…-

-… and she accepted? – he commented as if they were in some kind of cheap telenovela, bringing a smile on her lips, while his own mimicked it in a smirk, a very sensual smirk (part of her thought it was the one lovers offered when they were teasing the other, as if humoring them but also trying to get them out of the shyness shell).

-Yep- again the childish expression and again the wolf-like smirk, which honesty made her wonder if his teeth were freaking sharp or it was just an impression -… and after he cheated on her… the dude kind of sucks…-

-Well, he must have other talents- the innuendos made her start out a laugh, mostly because of the absurdity of the situation: shy little (Y/N) gossiping with a gorgeous receptionist, who seemed into her.

(Key-word: “seemed”, she was pretty sure he was just flirty by nature, with those good looks and arms that could carry her everywhere, no she wasn’t totally imagining herself clinging at them, meanwhile he whispered naughty things, before dropping her to their shared bed…).

-I don’t know, I wasn’t the one he cheated her with…- and then she went back to the straight discourse, gaining a little laugh from the receptionist -… so she is not coming… and I am all by myself…-.

She didn’t meant to appear that pathetic, but it must have seemed that way to the guy, who rose his head, as if his ears could stand at attention as a well-trained dog, before giving her a sultry look and in that moment she remembered how stuck to her body her clothing was, nothing too transparent but… she was definitely vulnerable and that guy was checking her out as a piece of meat.

But not in the “sexual harassment” way, the “I really want you in my bed” way, and she was sure she was just mistaking the signs.

She was not ugly, but not a boy magnet: she just eased the “feminist who won’t put up with your shit” attitude, and it didn’t help to have social anxiety and shyness.

-So, you are all alone in a wedding suite… that’s honestly sad…- he mumbled but he didn’t seem sad for her, he was still leaning, and although his head was at the same level of her cleavage he was being a gentleman and still staring at her eyes.

-Yep, that’s why I would like to change it to a single: wedding suite is definitely too big for me…-.

-Sorry, lovely- she almost jumped at the nickname but he just smiled at her sweetly, letting the flirty persona behind -… we can’t change, but I am sure you will find the wedding suite to your liking, it is one of our best-.

Oh, just her luck.

She must have shown her disgust on her face (not a difficult thing, since she couldn’t hide anything) because he smiled apologetically to her:

-I swear it is a lot better than it looks, and we have warm water-

-But no wi-fi- she mumbled sadly at the sign on the window.

He scratched his head nervously, nodding.

-That sucks absolutely, but you can find an amazing wi-fi connection at “Shiny Moon”, it’s a bar near here, if you want, I can accompany you later-.

She seriously was flattered by the offer, but she didn’t know this guy and although he had been a gentleman (still sending her a few glance that made her feel hot and bothered, but maybe she was imagining them) she didn’t want trouble, mostly with hunks.

-Thank you, but I am sure I will find it, also I wouldn’t want to disrupt your work- she tried to push the “don’t want to bother you” excuse and he clearly didn’t believe it, but nodded as if he was used to that rejection and she thought for a moment to tell him, that maybe he…

But a beautiful blond-haired woman appeared catching the receptionist’s attention.

-Ivar! – she shouted, the name probably written on the little thing on the man’s tight t-shirt, which she couldn’t read because her glasses were a mess.

Ivar didn’t seem happy to be called and (Y/N) honestly didn’t get why: the woman looked like she came straight from a Swedish version of “Sports Illustrated”, definitely a model, who had unluckily chosen a shitty hotel.

-The water in my room isn’t working- she didn’t acknowledge (Y/N) as soon as she stepped near the receptionist table, locking eyes with Ivar, who turned his head down, avoiding categorically her gaze, but grunting a “ok” -… it needs to be fixated immediately, so come to my room-.

The last part of the quote seemed a clear invitation and it was what made Ivar snap, turning around abruptly and sending a glare at the woman, before recognizing her presence and softening his grim grin.

She didn’t know why, probably for empathy, but she smiled straight back at her, before coughing to make the rude model acknowledge her presence and whisper, trying to appear sultry.

-Ivar was minding my case, give him five minutes and he will solve your problem…- she wanted to add “your attitude problem” but she didn’t dare, already having said much more than the model expected, from her smiling face which sent her way a venomously sweet smile, nodding.

She didn’t answer to her, just turning to Ivar again and mumbling in a languid voice.

-Be swift, I don’t think it can wait much longer-.

Ivar just nodded, eyes fixed on the desk, and raising just when (Y/N) whispered a “she is gone”.

-She is a…- he tried to mumble, clearly numbing his rage to her benefit, meanwhile she shot him a compassionate look.

-Some people should just get a kick in their beautifully shaped butt- she mumbled and laughed honestly, as if releasing all the tension, something which was truly heartwarming for her, and made her smile to him as genuinely as she could do.

-I mean I would, but I am scared it would get just stuck there…- he made her laugh brightly and for a moment she thought about how embarrassing she must have sounded: nobody liked her voice or her laugh, too high-pitched, childish and definitely creepy but he looked at her as if she had just told him she was the freaking Virgin Mary, before turning around and catching a key.

-I am supposed to photocopy your document, but since you seem pretty cold and have dealt with an assholish receptionist, I’d say you can go to your room and warm up, it should be done by now- he put the key in her hands, reaching out for the physical contact.

He could have thrown them at her, made them dangle in front of her, but he straight up waited for her to offer her hands, gently putting the keys into them, covering them with his: that freaking contact was not accidental.

But she enjoyed the warmness of his hands, smiling thankfully at him, before trying to take everything in her hands.

And just when she was going for the elevator, she felt herself being called out.

-I know you might already know, because Fredys gave it out, but I am Ivar-.

She got into the elevator and she faced him smiling brightly before offering her hands as if she could grip his.

-I am (Y/N), but I think the documents gave it away-

-… unless they are fake, (Y/N) a pretty common name…- he made her laugh so easily she forgot to push the button, thankfully somebody else called the elevator and she made it in time just to smile at him and start her phrase.

-Strangest…-

-… parents- she mumbled meanwhile she reached her number, forty-eight, she low key liked it and the place looked much nicer inside, the old style that made everything seem “vintage” although it was a step from destroying itself, which might happen with her luck.

The key actually worked and she slipped swiftly inside the room, smiling at the clean smell and the warmth of it: a shower and a change of clothes would do her good, but firstly she moved around the room to check everything was alright and was surprised to find out how luxurious it actually looked, with even a bathtub, with hydromassage and a long plump bed where you could roll around in silk sheets.

The architecture was old and there was the much hated and anti-hygienic moquette, alongside with a horrible fantasy on it but everything looked in a classy way, much better than the motel she expected to find and much more than for what she had paid for her.

The place didn’t cost too much, according to her last research but it looked like it was worth every penny, if you ignored the fact that it was in the middle of nowhere with no wi-fi.

It was perfect if you looked for the perfect place for a “Shining” replica.

She tried to focus on positive thoughts, such as the fact that she shower water was immediately warm and she was happy to sing a little meanwhile relaxing her tights muscles from carrying her luggage every freaking where.

She then blow-dried her hair with the hair-drier that was there working perfectly, meanwhile slipping in a more comfortable attire: she had mostly short dresses, since she thought she would be out partying, a few sweater and her beloved high-waisted skinny jeans but she had managed to slip some ugly leggings and an old ruined university sweater.

It was barely three p.m. but she was tired for the long journey, which should have been a very short one, but the breaking of her car didn’t help (she had thought for a moment it was a sign that she should have just gone back home); she had had to deal with the police, coming to help her.

She had thought that maybe luck would be on her side, when she saw the bus coming on her way.

Unluckily the freaking bus journey sucked, so… she was tired AF and the cheap reality show she had chosen didn’t help and she ended up falling asleep on the plush bed, mumbling something about how bitchy bridesmaids could be…

She woke up because something on her head was vibrating and scared her into thinking about a possible earthquake, but it was just her phone.

It was Annie, from whom she had missed five calls and thousands of messages.

But she was so tired, that she actually thought about not answering her back and going back to Tom Hardy’s muscled arms.

(She had dreamt for a minute about the reception boy… Ivar… but it low key felt wrong; he wouldn’t definitely be involved into the situation she was dreaming, alongside the fact that it would be low key disgraceful to see him and blush after what she had seen in her dream).

-Hey Annie… I was sleeping- she even yawned, trying to tell her friend to make it quick.

They had never really been best-friends, forever competitors in everything and at the social level it seemed Annie was winning.

-Thank God you answered! I was getting worried…- she mumbled, clearly chewing her lips, she was also probably staring at her elegant diamond ring, part of (Y/N) wanted to tell her it was as small as her boyfriend’s dick, or so the rumors said, but she had stopped herself from doing anything, she had just “awed” stupidly alongside her other friends, when Annie had shown it to them (the ring, not her boyfriend’s dick)-… did you arrive? -.

-Yeah- and she watched her watch, apparently it was late enough that she might have missed her dinner, because of her little nap and outside it was pretty dark.

She put her friend on speaker, trying to put on a decent outfit, nothing too much to go to the “Shiny Moon”, which she highly hoped wasn’t some kind of exclusive club or a strip-club, because she had no intention to stick her tired body in a skirt, so she ended up in her comfortable jeans and an even more comfortable sweater.

-… so I am still sorry, but I felt like me and Gerry had to have our space and time, after the proposal… did I tell you he took me out to the “Sinatra”…- the most expensive place in their hometown, Heco remembered how it was something Annie always wished to do, and she was low key happy her friend could cross that off the list.

-Oh, it’s beautiful! – she commented, grabbing in her hand the sheer lace of her mini-black dress, the sexiest dress she owned and definitely the one she used to go out to clubs, but she immediately put outfit down, not feeling confident enough for that look -Hope you two had fun! -.

-I hope you will, too, (Y/N), is the room nice? -she asked, quitting the chipping about everything else.

-Oh, yeah, I have a jacuzzi- she heard her friend “owww” and mumble “maybe I should have come” -… and I am going out to get wi-fi, that’s why I haven’t been answering your messages because my 3G is not working so well…-.

-Yeah, I can’t hear you well…- mumbled Annie, but this didn’t discourage her from keeping up the conversation meanwhile (Y/N) adjusted her head in a high ponytail -… so I was thinking about the maid of honor: my sister or my cousin? -.

She low key didn’t expect to be the maid of honor, but not even being considered?

They hadn’t been best friends but (Y/N) had tried to play the part, remembering her friend’s birthday and gifting her lavish gifts, consoling her when asshole Gerry had left her and helping her build her confidence.

Annie had always left (Y/N) behind, after she was alright, and (Y/N) had been ok with that, she had stopped expecting people to do something for her, but still, it stung…

And to avoid confrontation, she started making horrible sounds and stumbling on her words as if she was seriously having a shitty phone reception, hearing Annie trying to scream and give up in the end, telling her to call her when the phone reception would get better.

She threw the phone on the bed, huffing and breathing heavily before adjusting elegantly her appearance and attempt to go out.

She stalked the reception hall and found a woman instead of Ivar: a beautiful blonde woman who seriously made her wonder if everyone there was a model.

She chatted a bit, asking for directions for the “Shiny Moon”, meanwhile the woman photocopied her ID, but clearly as disinterested as Ivar had been flirty.

She thanked the woman and adjusting her light coat she moved outside.

It was November and it was definitely cold but not as cold as in some  other states: the sweater and the coat kept her warm for the ten-minutes-journey to the “Shiny Moon” a dark and grimy place.

Still from the window she saw that there were many people dressed just like her, just with their computers or chatting up.

She entered and although the main colors of the club were golden and black, in a very tacky assemble that mixed a sex-club with a diner, the atmosphere was peaceful, alongside almost empty.

She sat at the bar stool, immediately making eye contact with a pretty girl of her age.

-Hi, welcome to the “Shiny Moon”! What can I get you? – her voice was emotionless although she showed off a smart smirk.

-Whatever can get me the wi-fi password?- she asked, trying to get straight to the point and gaining a sincere smile from the girl, who took a little piece of paper and offered it to her, before asking if that was all.

-Can I get a menu if I am not too late for dinner? – she asked, feeling her stomach grumble miserably, since she had avoided lunch.

-You are lucky, the kitchen is open for another hour and in the meanwhile can I bring you some kind of drink? – she said, putting out a white notebook and offering a plastic menu.

-Oh…- she didn’t know what to say -… coca cola? -.

-With rum? – added the girl, smiling at her teasingly and making her blush.

-No, no alcohol- she liked alcohol, but only when she knew she would make a fool of himself between people who did know her, not a strange grimy place, where she knew nobody, although if they looked all like models she could make an exception -… I need to go back on my own, so…-.

-If you can wait till my turn is over, I can accompany you- offered the girl she had just met and this brightened (Y/N)’s heart, but also she didn’t understand why a stranger might offer her help, after a few minutes of knowing.

-Oh, no I don’t want to bother you- she mumbled, using again the excuse she loved, since she constantly felt like a bother for everyone, even strangers she just met in a bar.

-Oh no bother, sweetie- the girl cheered sweetly -Us girls must stick together-.

And she sent a wink her way, worsening her blush, but she was immediately distracted by a blonde ghost appearing beside her.

-What have I said about talking with clients, Destiny? We have a full night.. we have no time to…- and then she met the ghost bluish-green eyes -… well I think I can make a little time for you, doll-.

Ivar adjusted the hydraulic tools back again on their shelf, fixing his appearance.

He had managed to avoid Fredys’ advances this time, although he hadn’t minded the flirty attitude of the new guest.

It wasn’t a typically flirty, more like he was the one doing all the flirty parts and she was just batting her long eyelashes, smiling shyly and worst of all: her freaking hips…

They looked like a freaking goddess’ hips, large and he wanted to see them in his hands, meanwhile he pushed them down on the bed, reassuring her with kisses on them.

Shit, the little girlie had done just a few steps in his direction and he wanted to bed her already, something he couldn’t do, but still nothing made him avoid the pleasure of making her blush and maybe if he played his cards right he would get to feel those hips.

He had a serious problem, worse than Hvitserk and food.

Talking about Hvitserk, he was coming up the stairs just when Ivar was going down on them, swiftly.

-Oh, hello there! – saluted him cheerily his brother, meanwhile he stopped alongside Ivar -Going out? -.

-Yep, I am going out for a few shots at the “Shiny Mood”, want to come? – he proposed.

-Sadly not, me and Ubbe have clan thing to do, but maybe I can join you later…- he knew he had lost the faith of his brothers and it hurt every time they reminded him of that but he tried to rein in his anger.

-Ok, have fun at the clan meeting- he tried not to sound bitter, but he knew he had failed when Hvitserk failed to keep his own straight face.

-You know we would absolutely love for you to be here with us, but… the clan is still not trusting you…- and he patted on his younger brother’s back -… you’ll be back soon-.

-I hope- he mumbled closing the conversation, and moving down the stairs, meanwhile his brother stuck there, but got a last look from Ivar -Oh… and we have a new guest, room forty-eight, she is mine, don’t try anything funny-.

If with Ivar, the flirting was strangely comical and harmless, with the green-eyed bartender she felt dangerously exposed even in her turtleneck and her full fitting jeans.

-Just cola, so, beautiful? – she just nodded, avoiding the bartender’s gaze.

Men weren’t usually that blunt with her and not having the control made her feel definitely vulnerable.

-… Destiny you can go to deal with other clients, I got this one- he ordered to the gentle girl and (Y/N) shot her a glance as if to ask her not to leave her with the hot bartender.

But the girl just sent her a sorry glance, before moving off to the other clients.

-You are new in town- it wasn’t a question, but she still nodded again, just to feel a hand under her chin, gently raising it up so that her ink eyes could meet the bluish and greenish of the bartender, who sweetly stare into her making her feel as if she was showing him her soul.

And she was thankful he liked what he saw.

-Much better, doll, look at me in the face while we speak, you have pretty eyes and even a prettier mouth-.

-I have never been told that- she mumbled but kept her eyes up.

-Oh, what a shame- he replied, moving his hand, which was still resting on her chin, to her hair, caressing her as if she was some kind of dog, something which made her roll her eyes but also lean into the touch -… women like you need to be cherished each day-.

-Aren’t you the flatterer…- she mumbled and he laughed sensually, dropping his head and turning around, thing that made her almost drop a whine, being robbed of the beauty, but he came back immediately, with her drink, and exactly like Ivar, he handed it to her with extreme physical contact, thing that made her almost wink at him.

-Just the truth, lovely mystery lady- he replied, before dropping on his elbows so he could stare at her at the same height, making her blush and cough out her cola.

-You didn’t tell me anything about yourself also, mysterious bartender- she sassed him and it got a pretty smile and an hand offered to her.

-Roman- and she accepted it, offering her own name.

-(Y/N)-.

-Pretty strange name, (Y/N) look more like a tequila girl- he humored her making her cackle a laugh.

-I do like tequila, but I am in the middle of nowhere and I don’t want to be kicked out of my single night out-.

-Ohh… single night out…- Michael almost whistled, clearly focused more on the single part than the ladies night -We host a thousand of ladies night, but don’t they involve another friend? - .

-Didn’t I tell you I am nothing like ordinary? – she said, with a bitter smile, drinking her sorrows away in the sugary drink -My last single friend got engaged a few days before, so I am all out of single friends, that was why I was trying to talk Destiny to join my night out… you literally ruined my night-.

-Oh, did I? – and he did a thing with his tongue that made her almost faint.

-Yeah, you are obviously not a single lady- she mumbled, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation.

-I am not a lady- he appointed -… but I am single, sweetheart-.

And the hand was back on her cheek, coaxing her nearer, till she felt somebody occupying the bar sit next to her…

-…well I am single too, so can I join the single train? -.

Shit, flirty! Ivar was back again.

Roman had had a tough night, a full night at the “Shiny Moo” and Roman had wandered off, meanwhile Destiny was chatting up clients, making others wait, and he had immediately moved to tell her to move her ass, till he saw the pretty girl she was talking to.

Clearly the type of girl who didn’t care to walk in a bar in simple clothes and she still managed to be the most stunning girl in there, and she was just wearing jeans, jeans that looked like they were painted on her perky butt, and a mickey mouse sweater, he honestly thought looked deviously innocent.

Part of her looked like she could have just come out of a fairy tale books, but the way she talked and once the shyness went away… she seemed to come out straight from an erotic novel, the well written kind.

She honestly made his night better.

Ivar, a little less.

The fact that they wanted to bring the same girl in their beds made it… interesting.

-Hello there, lovely, saw you found the “Shiny Moon”-.

The girl smiled more at ease, than with him; Ivar was a people-charmer, whereas Roman was more sensual and the girl looked like she was entirely scared by her sexuality.

So, Ivar clearly had the advantage, but Roman knew how to get everybody on their knees for him.

-… yeah, I mean I am not amazing with directions, but this place is basically in front of the hotel so…-.

-So, you are staying at the old “Kattegat”? – asked Roman, trying to get more info than Ivar, also because he was honestly mesmerized by the girl, utterly smitten and curious to know more.

-Yeah, just for the weekend- and then she moved her little chin to Ivar, smiling slightly and asking -Oh by the way the room is beautiful-.

Ivar looked like a puppy who got a treat after the compliment he had received, nodding immediately meanwhile he mumbled lowly a few words.

-… that place might seem a terrible on the outside, but believe me, it’s very much worse inside, alongside the fact that his owners are all assholes- replied Roman, wanting her eyes back on him and getting them, alongside a shocked expression and a grunt from Ivar, which was immediately suppressed by something that said “do you want war? I will bring it to you”.

-People only come here for the free wi-fi- replied swiftly the other man, sparking a little fight.

And immediately (Y/N) came between those two, touching Ivar’s chest.

-Woah woah… your places are equally broken on the outside, but they are prettier on the inside, and yeah the wi-fi bonus is amazing- she laughed lightly, but her intention was clear: she wanted no riot or brawl in there, cocking an eyebrow at Roman, in a little show of dominance.

He, instead, licked his lips, a little aroused by a girl that could handle two extremely territorial males, without and ounce of fear; Ivar was thinking the same, looking at the hand on his chest with wide eyes.

-You are definitely all over men’s bullshit- mumbled attentively Roman, making her drop her hand from Ivar, who looked a few minutes from crying for the loss.

-Oh, all over every person’s bullshit, but you men are just the absolute worst- she laughed timidly, before downing again her drink, as she tried to avoid thinking about the two men looking at her smugly and intensively.

“Well you are lucky, we are not men, sweetie” that’s what he wanted to tell her, but seeing through all  the confidence she was faking, that she was pretty shy, it wasn’t the time to tell her they were supernatural beings.

Although she seemed smart to figure that out on her own.

-… men disappointed you, lovely? – Ivar asked, tried to sound compassionate, meanwhile he adjusted himself on the stool, probably because of his legs bothering him.

-It’s just…-.

-Are you a lesbian? – asked again Ivar and Roman sent him a death glare, knowing perfectly from the adorable blush she was wearing that they had just burned a chance to talk with her.

-No, I mean girls are beautiful, but not interested into them, although maybe I should, men are…-.

-… the worst- mumbled Roman, sending a straight up glare at Ivar, as if to let the sweetheart know that he was indeed “the worst”.

Ivar clearly looked embarrassed by the way she mumbled back, and moved near to get her attention, offering and half-hearted apology, helped by his sweet and dramatic blue eyes.

-Sorry, didn’t mean…-.

-Don’t worry- she mumbled leaning towards him -… a lot of people assumed it the same: no dates, no guys out of my house and I frighten every boy who comes my way-.

She tried to laugh it off but Roman could find how much it actually pained her: the loneliness and the sadness made her feel as if she was not enough.

But she was so so much more than enough and sweet, and she had already two men courting her.

-They were all boys to be frightened by such a pretty and powerful girl- replied Ivar, immediately gaining points by the pretty compliments, she leaned back into him, not enough to touch but… Ivar helped the contact by putting a hand over her shoulders, making her blush even more and sending Roman a winning smirk.

But he hadn’t lost.

-So, pretty girlie, do you have any plans for this weekend? – he asked, taking away the attention from Ivar and leaning forward, thing that was made by (Y/N) herself.

-Just to relax and do anything else-.

-Never thought about a threesome? – and the look of shock was enough to be a win for him.

Ivar seriously couldn’t be the prouder guy in the entire bar with the prettiest girl in town under his arm, smiling sweetly and with red shadows on her cheeks he wanted to kiss and maybe he would get to if he accompanied her back to the room.

Also, it was a little win over Roman, who instead of him, just needed to look at a girl to have her in her bed, and he also had had another little advantaged over him.

But he ruined anything as soon as Roman spit out the “threesome” proposition; it wasn’t rare for them to share a girl, mostly because of Ivar’s “little problem”, but this girl so sweet and pure… he felt like the sharing option was crazy.

She looked shell shocked in her expression of true shock, even worse than the one that she had on her face after his “embarrassing question”, but she almost laughed out, probably expecting it all to be a little joke.

Michael looked at her like a cat with a mouse, clearly trying to stay serious, although he laughed it off as if it was joke before going back to being serious.

-But seriously sweetie… if you want to do something more than just relax, we are more than willing to help you with a little fun-.

[migleefulmoments]

The CC fandom is basically just one giant neverending fan tantrum about not getting their own way. Collectively, they have written hundreds of thousands of pathetic words pointing out all the ways Darren isn't fulfilling their predictions and Mia being the cause of that, but too ensconced in their lies to stop and realize the very fact they have to keep churning out these word vomit posts revising reality means they are chronically wrong about EVERYTHING. That's the only 'sham mockery' here.

YES YES YES YES YES! 

Darren continues to disappoint Abby and everyone else has no idea who to think so they just word vomit whatever it is Abby is pissed about. Today is a perfect example -Abby is seething in a rage because Darren dared to look HOT AF in a disheveled look but Abs loves Blarren and she COULD. NOT. SEE. Blarren last night...anywhere.  She’s consoling herself by pointing out he isn’t happy in any photo (of course she’s wrong, he’s just giving a neutral face).

It’s a shit show over there as they are also being full misogynists. They are blaming Ashley for Darren’s look which Abby hates (hence they all do) and even criticizing Mia because she looks great (“best ever” according to Abby) but since Darren looks frumpy, Mia missed the memo and so it’s her fault. For anyone not aware of how stylists work- they pull together outfits for the celebrity to try on but in the end, it is the celebrity who chooses the final look. If you hate Darren’s outfit, you have to blame Darren. 

They are soothing their anger by reassuring themselves that Darren’s “contract” with Balmain is about to end (according to them he first wore Balmain a year ago???)  Newsflash- there is no contract- Darren was never announced as a brand ambassador or part of an advertising campaign. He just likes Balmain and Olivier likes him. The Balmain jackets will be around for a long time and I love them so fuck off Abby. 

Nothing is funnier to me than reading a fashion takedown by Abby seeing as how she’s sooooo fashion-forward. Darren should fire Ashley and hire Abby.  

BTW-notice her use the wrong initials- she’s been doing that lately.

**********************

“She has had 10 years to get to know what D looks good in, there is no excuse for that outfit last night. Even if I put aside that i think it is ugly, outdated, and the t-shirt is lazy, it is all wrong for a guy of average height who has a tiny frame”

************************

Anonymous asked: I like that we are criticizing D's outfit ,( like it deserves) and someone is even doing it in an harsh way this should show to all those ready to call us mysoginists or antifeminists that they say bs, bc we criticize the outfits EVEN FOR D, when he does it wrong, like this time

Fact, D is an actor. Fact, M is a beard. Fact, both get paid to be on the RC (Neither one is paid to be on the red carpet are fucking kidding me?!?! Who do you imagine is paying them and more importantly, how do you manage they recoup those expenses and make money on a red carept? Red Carpets are for fans to feel connected to the show and therefore to watch the show. Imagine an Oscars night that was only the dry show. Fewer people would be interested hence fewer ad dollars. It’s the spectacle of the event that gets people watching. Mia is photographed mostly for Darren and Mia. The gaggle of photos takes a pic and we end up seeing 2 or 3.  They do get picked up by celeb gossip mags occasionally, but most of the time they pic the photos of Darren alone) . Fact, celebrities and others that willingly chose to be on the RC, as part of their job, open themselves up to criticism and that is true of men, women, and those who are gender fluid. Part of the job description. If you don’t want us to talk, well then, there are other jobs out there.(It doesn’t give you the right to be a looney bitch) 

D looked awful and I have called them out before (and they haven’t listened to you? I’m dumbfounded), but to me last night was the low point. There may have been worse outfits, but it is ill fighting and he looks un-kept (awww, you couldn’t find Blarren anywhere).  And it makes no sense with the projects he is promoting.(He literally is not promoting any projects yet. It’s too early.  You don’t understand promotion at all for all the shit you claim to know. When you see him making the talk show rounds that is when he is promoting. Until then he is just living his life. Just becuase you, a super fan knows what is coming up doesn’t mean he is “promoting” anything.  He went to the party becuase he goes every year.  )

******************

 Once again, they don’t match, sure they both had on black, but no one told her that for this occasion, looking like a hot mess on the RC was the way to match D. Poor Swiller, she just can’t get it right.  99% of the time, she is the hot mess but this time, she kind of got it right and his was so wrong in so many ways.

*************************

Not sure i agree with your logic and it is not that he is not smiling, he looks down right miserable.  But I don’t blame him btwn the beard on his arm and that horrific excuse of an outfit, I would guess it was not his best night out.

*************************

The good news nonnie, I hope, D first wore B/ailman at the VF party on Feb 24, 2019. Soon after he was whisked off to Qatar for the fashion show, wore it to the Met, went to Paris for the fashion concert, wore them at iHeart, and now last night.  Like a bookend to a year contract. At least i hope, because that was absolutely hideous.  It was so ill fitting, it was awful on his body, it was not flattering, the jacket is just ugly.  And while I know he did shower, he looks like he threw on clothes after a raging party and the sunglasses are to hide his bloodshot eyes. This is not the look of a man with serious projects to sell.

I am utterly disappointed in AF (what did Ashley Fink do to you?), to the point that I think she should be fired (this is fucking HILARIOUS as Darren is on the best-dressed list most of the time-so are her other clients Chadwick and Finn. Firing her because one frumpy, bitchy fan doesn’t like an outfit seems a tad shortsighted). This is utterly inexcusable at a crucial time in his career at an incredibly important event (It was a party- it’s a fun event that everyone goes to but it’s literally a party where people drink and have fun) I understand he maybe has to wear the designer (he doesn’t)  but she needs to work with the designer to create a flattering look for her client whose star is rising and who has important, big projects to promote (Big HUGE A-list celebs were fashion fails all of the time. It doesn’t ruin their careers, calm the fuck down)    He is not a rock star that hangs out with groupies all night before snorting coke to go to the next event (He is Darren and part of Darren is the rockstar look. Stop trying to make him someone he isn’t).  He is on the verge of the A list (no he isn’t) with a classic, serious dramatic play in 6 weeks (Nobody cares except the 2000 people who will see the show) with 2 well renowned, A list, award winning, serous stars (She’s an idiot)  and a series where he is selling classic HW, defined by gorgeous, well groomed, stunning male stars (Oh, honey, your wank bank is full over this isn’t?  I get why you are so sure Raymond is gay. You need them all to be gorgeous, well-groomed queer men). And is how they choose to represent him? As a man that could not be bothered to shave who looks like a wanna be rock star (Since he wore that look to his wedding I have to believe that both Darren and Mia love that look on him)?  Nope.(YEP)

[i-am-parsec]

Unaddressed Letters - Prologue

Life...is a bitch. We all know that to a certain degree right off the bat, I mean, even kids suffer, I know that very well, but only time can truly make you feel that statement in your bones. As years go by, you'll really get to know just how much of an absolute motherfucking cunt Life can be.

I know this sounds like mad rambling here, but I do have a point. Gimme a minute, ok?

We tried. Both of us. Everyone seems to think that because I left that means I hate him and think of him as this pathetic excuse of a human being who was worth nothing and all he ever did was ruin my life - well, I fucking don't. Never have, never will. Nobody knows the shit we went through. The hell we escaped from. I don't hate him. I don't think I'm even capable of such thing. When you spend so much time by someone's side, holding onto them, pushing them forward, sharing the good, the bad and everything in between, you reach a point where hate is no longer an option. You love them so much there's no really coming back from that love, you two are never going to outlive that bond, no matter what. No matter how much easier that would be, because trust me, sometimes hate can be the safer option, sometimes hate will make Life...bearable, if not better.

But I can't hate him. And honestly, I don't want to. Not anymore. But a few months ago? Oh, I'd have given anything to just completely despise him, that way I could have been the bitter new single mom everybody expects me to be and just move on with my life. However, as we previously established, Life is a bitch, therefore, here we are. Have I moved on? No. Have my kids found any solace in me basically forcing them to move to a new city very far away from everything and everyone they love? No. Has my ex finally appeared, dead or alive?!

Ah, you guessed it. Mother-fucking-no.

I simply cannot wrap my mind around how people can assume that because you divorce someone that means you could feel any sort of relief when they go missing. I'd even had some heartless cringey bastards crack some joke about it. "Less paperwork for you now, haha!"

I don't believe in God anymore, but if he's up there, he better stop testing me before I go on a fucking killing spree and leave my poor kids orphans.

You and I know that's just the anger talking, I could never do that. Not the whole murdering thing, I mean leaving my kids on their own. To get me away from my babies you'd first have to kill me and you can guess I'm not letting that happen any time soon. I sleep with one eye open, I have a gun and I know damn well how to use it. Whatever is coming after us is not catching me with my guard down.

Although, I'm very much afraid a gun has nothing on...that thing.

As I said, I don't hate my husband, but you can't really blame me for being a itty bitty mad at him after he got us into this mess. And what for? I ask myself every damn day. Money? Fame? Success?

We didn't need the money, no matter how bad we were struggling, we always managed to make things work.

Fame is absolute bullshit and I want to believe I married a man smart enough to see that.

Success...he had already achieved, long time ago, when we left that hellhole where we grew up, when we bought this house, when he held our daughter in his arms for the first time, when he turned 25 and had not only never stepped prison unlike any other man in his family but also, he was happy.

He was fucking happy.

So answer me this, Chase, why the fuck did you do it? Huh? Why did you contact him?! Why did you go and destroy our family just like that?!

And where the absolute fuck are you now?!

You know how much easier my life would be if I didn't give a shit about you? If I was the bitchy ex wife I'm supposed to be? If i could tell the kids "daddy's probably not coming back, so please let's try to get over this, 'key"?

But I can't.

I can't give up on you, Chase. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part, remember? I'm keeping my promise, Brody, so you better keep yours.

You better come back, Chase. I'm begging you.

I know I said at the begging I was going somewhere with all this. I'm sorry to disappoint, if I was, I certainly got lost. At the very least, I can give you a word of advice: if at some point in life you feel like "you made it", stop looking around for the next big thing. Just enjoy what you rightfully earned.

Or you might lose it.

More info and all chapters under the cut

All chapters in chronological order, here. Next chapter, here.

I posted this way before I started writing “Unaddressed Letters” but in a way this is the starting point for the story, the first time I wrote from Stacy’s point of view and the moment I chose to build my own version of this world. This prologue might not fit completely with the narrative used in the rest of the fanfic, but I felt like it belongs there, so I decided to add it to the tag. Hope you guys enjoy it.

[deyadee]

Even more reasons

I will admit- this is just a rant to get out there and not separate into ten thousand fucking parts so I can come back and write more when I’m sad and bitchy enough to pretend that I don’t care what other people think.

So here goes nothing. Biggest problems to more minor, hopefully enough to tip me over the edge finally.

Abhorrent skank. You’re fucking awful. You’re selfish beyond belief, I would spit on myself if I could. You don’t care about anyone besides the people that are fucking paid to give a shit about you. You feign caring other people and fucking problems but you do nothing. You’ve never done any fucking charity work in your life. Give as much fucking money that you got from mommy and daddy- that’s just as good as actually fucking contributing! You make me sick.

Hideous. More than 3 fucking people bitch. 3. Each one basically admitted you’re fugly. That’s just the ones that had to admit it because no one else can stand to be around you and your family doesn’t wanna hear your fucking moaning and shower crying.

Fat. Take a look in the mirror. I don’t think I need to illustrate any further.

Lazy. You have not a goddamn shred of passion or care for anything that will ever actually get you a job. Just fucking accept you’re a lazy cunt that can’t do anything right besides sit around and make fucking lists and organize and do shit that doesn’t fucking matter to fucking anything.

Intelligence. You used to be at least fucking smart. Now look at you. Your fucking brain cells have rotted out because you can’t pick up any fucking book that doesn’t have fifteen pictures on each page. You stopped caring about your fucking grades and now you’re a fucking moron. Congratulations!

Boring. You think you’re cool cause you like shit your peers don’t like. You listen to your fucking parents’ music. You take no fucking risks. You blend into the background like a plastic fucking office fern. You have no personality. You have no interests. You steal ideas from everyone else. All of your story ideas could be crapped out by any fucking English major drop-out on one fucking lunch break. The only think you excel at is being a fucking disappointment to the human race.

Not funny. You try so fucking hard to seem like you’re cute and funny and relatable. You’re fucking not. You’re pathetic and everyone fucking knows it. The only fucking time you were funny is because you were fat and ugly and made fun of it on stage for everyone to fucking see.

Try-hard. You try so fucking hard to impress everyone because you’re fucking desperate for even a drop of attention you fucking bitch whore.

Pompous. You think you’re fucking better than everyone else at everything when you’re shit at everything. You’re only a good actor when you’re the butt of the joke you fat cow. You’re a degenerate fuckwad who thinks anything on the internet even fucking matters. You pretend to not be a weeb in public when you’re worse than all of them. You can’t even fucking try to be goth because you look like a fucking whale spilling out of those tights. Those are for hot and cute girls. Not fat bitches with zero self-esteem that cries herself to sleep. You think you’re better than your generation but you’re just as fucking stupid as them. You don’t accept anything that proves you’re fucking shit at everything.

Acting. You spend years of your life wasting your fucking time lying to yourself thinking that you’re worth something. You’re not. You probably got that part because the teacher thought you were fucking “special”.

Weeb. You’re a fucking shameless weeb. You try to think you’re better than others because you hide your fangirl side- but you’re just like every crazy bitch writing about how much you love people who don’t fucking exist. They’ll never love you back. And on top of that, you think you’re better because you don’t wanna fuck fictional characters and you don’t wanna get with them- you just know all of them don’t deserve wretched whore like you.

Voice. You can’t sing and you sound like a guy.

[natasha-cole]

Worlds Collide Chapter 3

Pairing: Eventual Reader x Billy Moran

Chapter Summary: Reader finds herself on a date with Billy. Now, she’s just wondering why she’s able to be so open with him.

Word Count: 3763

Warnings: none that I can think of, just fluff

Notes: 

Catch Up: Chapter 1  Chapter 2

You were sort of kicking yourself over your need to prove people wrong. Now, you were sitting across from Billy at a restaurant, officially on a date with the man. You studied him, very aware of how attractive he was, despite fact that you found men with beards sort of cringeworthy. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like to kiss someone like that, but you were sure it would be annoying. Regardless, that’s not what you were here for. You were simply here to prove a point to everyone. Maybe hanging out with him would encourage everyone to stop talking about you behind your back, to stop thinking that you were boring and high-maintenance.

You hadn’t said two words to each other when you made your way here, but you were pleasantly surprised at the way Billy had opened doors for you and even pulled your chair out for you at the table. He was polite at least, and you figured you could make the most of it.

A waiter finally approached your table as the two of you sat in an uncomfortable silence. Neither of you knew how to really talk to the other.

“I’ll have the cobb salad, and water is fine for me,” you told the waiter as you handed him the menu. You glanced up at Billy who was now watching you with an amused grin on his face. “Problem?” you asked.

“I thought that only happened in movies?”

“What?”

“The lady, ordering a salad on a date. I didn’t think that was real.”

“Are you judging my choice of food?”

“Not at all,” he replied. He turned his attention to the waiter, “Actually, can you give us a few more minutes to decide?”

The waiter nodded, leaving you alone for a moment.

“I was ready to order,” you said, “I’m starving.”

“You’re starving and you ordered a salad?” He looked at you as if he didn’t believe you.

“What is the big deal?”

“I just- I brought you here to feed you. You could at least order something you actually like.”

“I like cobb salad.”

“No you don’t. No one likes salad.”

“Fine,” you said through your teeth, “can we please just order?”

Billy flagged the waiter down and he ordered the dinner special. Feeling somewhat overwhelmed and unsure of yourself, you ordered the same. Billy then ordered you each a glass of wine.

The only reason all of this was so uncomfortable was because you had never been on a date like this with anyone. You didn’t know how to act, and you certainly didn’t know what to say.

“Tell me about yourself,” Billy started.

“There’s not much to tell.”

“Where are you from?”

“I’m from a lot of different places. Born in California though.”

“You’re so quiet,” he reminded you, “I never see you talk to anyone, not even on the phone. You got family? Friends?”

“Of course I do. Have family anyway.”

“No friends? Not even childhood friends that you still talk to.”

You said nothing, feeling as you were being called out on the fact that you were actually lame. He had very quickly jumped right into getting to know you, and the thought of it left you uncomfortable. This would be the first time anyone even bothered getting to know you. No matter how much you didn’t want to talk to him, you found yourself answering his questions anyway. He was easy to talk to. And he honestly appeared to be interested in what you had to say.

“My parents and I moved around a lot when I was a kid. I was never in one place long enough to make friends. I guess that just sort of stayed the same as I got older.”

“Military brat?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“You have siblings? Are you close to your family?”

“It’s just me. And, no, not really.”

“That’s a shame,” he said as he leaned back in his chair.

“Yeah, well, it’s for the best.”

“Tell me about them. If you want to.”

“There’s not much to tell. Like I said, we were constantly moving around. My dad wasn’t around a lot. Mom… she and I didn’t necessarily see eye-to-eye.”

“Sounds rough.”

“I survived.”

“Where do they live now?”

“Oh, they’re somewhere on the east coast. I don’t really talk to them anymore. My mom had these big plans for me, you know. I was supposed to be a lawyer or something. I knew early on that I wanted to act. I was good at it, and it made me happy. But that’s not what she wanted for me. I sort of ended up a big disappointment.” You felt your chest tighten as you talked about her, recalling how difficult things had been while you were growing up under her roof.

“Really? Because I’ve seen some of your work. You’re amazing, and you have awards… how can that be disappointing?”

You shrugged, still not sure yourself.

“I guess she had very different views on what success is,” you said softly. “What about you?”

“I’m close with my family, and I have a lot of really great friends.”

“They support you,’ you stated.

“All the time. I started playing guitar when I was a kid, and I was good at it. No one ever stopped me from that. I get to do what I love, and I get to hang out with my best friends.”

“You’re very lucky.”

“Can I ask, what’s with the act?”

“Excuse me?”

“This,” he said, gesturing to you, “this whole uncaring, cold, stoic thing you have going on.”

“It’s not an act. It’s just who I am.”

“You ever think about smiling sometimes? Maybe doing something fun?”

“Did you ask me out so that you could make fun of me?” You asked, now second guessing that you had even agreed to go out with him.

“I’m not making fun of you. I just really want to know.”

“I guess people think I’m bitchy because I take myself very seriously. I take my career seriously and I don’t have the luxury of messing around. I worked very hard to get where I am, and I can’t do anything to mess that up.”

“You know, the rest of us take our jobs seriously too. And, we’re really good at what we do.”

“I know you are.”

“That doesn’t mean that we’re not allowed to let loose once in awhile.”

“Okay,” you replied. “I just… I feel that if I let my guard down at any point, all of this comes crashing down around me. Everything that I worked for, all those years of trying to keep my mother out of my life, any little mistake I make could ruin all of that; I learned that the hard way.”

“That sounds really terrible. Why would you keep your mother out of your life, even if she didn’t agree with your career choice?”

“When I did start acting, and actually started making a living out of it, her whole mindset changed. She still didn’t think of me as anything special, she always told me I was terrible at what I did. But, when the paychecks rolled in, so did the phonecalls. Apparently I owed her something, for putting up with me all those years. And I caved, every time, just so I could have some sort of feeling of accomplishment. Eventually, I just had to walk away, cut ties.”

Billy looked at you, dumbfounded as you basically spilled your childhood trauma to him over dinner. You felt like kicking yourself when you saw the way he was looking at you, like you were pathetic and sad.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” you mumbled, “I don’t even know you and I’m oversharing.”

“No, I wanted to get to know you better, you’re doing great.”

“Yeah, every guy wants to hear about a woman’s trauma on a first date,” you laughed as you took a drink of your wine.

“What did you mean when you said you learned the hard way?”

“Oh, that would be when I first started acting. Got myself into a little trouble when I was underage and became the talk of Hollywood for a while. My publicist was worried it would ruin my reputation and I actually didn’t get much work for a while afterwards. But, I guess like any good Hollywood scandal, it went away eventually, people stopped talking. I’ve just learned to keep to myself now and not have too much fun anymore.”

“So, there is a little bit of a rebel in there somewhere?”

“Not anymore,” you giggled, “what about you? You seem like the exact kind of guy that I should avoid if I want to stay out of trouble.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know, you’re a musician. Aren’t musicians all about trouble?”

“Not if you’re in your forties and in a band with dudes who are married with kids,” he laughed, “trust me, it’s not as crazy as you think it is.”

“Well, you look like trouble.”

“Are you judging me by my looks now?”

“I’m trying not to.”

“Well, I promise you that I’m not trouble. In fact, I’m actually a decent guy.”

“Yeah, you’re easy to talk to as well. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with someone like this, ever.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He asked, changing the subject again. It seemed as if he were trying to cram as much ‘getting to know you’ as he could in one date.

“If I had a boyfriend, I would not be on a date with you. Why are you asking about that anyway?”

“Oh, you can tell a lot about someone based on their past relationships. Me, for example, my ex and I split mostly because I was gone a lot. It was a mutual decision.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“So you know that I’m a nice guy.”

“I don’t doubt you,” you responded, smiling slightly. “I dated another actor for a while. Um, my publicist set us up, it wasn’t too long after the whole scandal thing. She said dating someone would make me seem more likable, maybe clean up my image a little. So, you’re not the only one who thinks of me the way you do. Most people feel the same way.”

“What happened there?”

“He dumped me after a few months. We were very different, and I don’t think he liked me very much. Honestly, I think my publicist paid him to date me,” you laughed, trying to cover the fact that the thought of it actually hurt.

“That’s horrible,” Billy replied, eyes narrowed as he listened.

“I just- I don’t put myself in that kind of position anymore. I actually liked him, but it wasn’t real, you know? It was an act, on his part anyway.” You paused, calming yourself the best you could. If there was one thing you were really good at, it was holding back feelings. In fact, most people assumed you didn’t have feelings. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Your food arrived, and you felt grateful that you could now eat and avoid any more conversation. You kicked yourself over how much you had indulged the man to begin with. You never talked about your parents or your ex to anyone, but then again, no one ever asked. Billy made you uncomfortable in a way, mostly because he wouldn’t be the type of person someone like you would associate yourself with if you actually talked to people. But, something about him had you feeling at ease tonight. He was easy to talk to, and more importantly, he seemed to actually want to talk to you. No one ever took the time to get to know you, and you couldn’t help but wonder why he was different. What was it about you that made him take interest?

You both ate in silence, sipping on your wine, avoiding eye contact. It had become a little much, even for you, to be sitting in such awkward silence.

“I’m sorry if I made this uncomfortable,” you apologized as you both ate. “Sometimes, I just don’t know how to talk to people.”

“It’s okay, I asked questions and you answered honestly. I appreciate that. I just didn’t want you to feel worse by my stupid questions.”

“They weren’t stupid,” you promised him, “I just don’t get many people asking me about myself. Not like that anyway. I think my honesty is a bit much for most people.”

“I like your honesty,’ he said, “there aren’t many honest people left.”

You smiled at him, both of you going back to your meals, eating in silence again. When dinner was done and the bill was paid, Billy took your hand, helping you out of your chair as you headed out to the car. The concert would be happening soon and you knew he had to be back in time. While the date had been nice, you couldn’t help but feel as if you overshared. You were certain that the man would never want to see you again after this. You told yourself that this was a good thing, since you could never date someone like him anyway; but deep down, the idea that you may have fucked this up ate away at you.

You were terrible at talking to people, which is why you avoided it. Apparently, when you actually did engage in conversation with someone, you liked to spill your guts to them completely. You hated that you had said any of it, mostly because now this man knew more about you than anyone else ever did. You only hoped that he could keep his mouth shut, maybe pretend to forget everything that you had said when he decided to run far away from the crazy lady that he had accidentally asked on one date.

You drove back to the hotel in silence, knowing that when you got there, you’d walk away from him and probably never speak to him again.

“You should come to the show tonight,” Billy said suddenly, “I know it’s not your thing, but you should give it a chance.”

“I don’t know if I should. I don’t think anyone wants me there.”

“I do,” he said simply, “I think you’d have fun, good ol wholesome fun.”

“I don’t know… maybe,” you replied. You considered it. You had been doing these cons for a little while and never once even attempted to show up for SNS. It’s not that you hated music, you actually really loved music, but you knew that the concert was something that the rest of the cast took great pride in. They, along with the fans, came together to listen to Louden Swain and the other actors considered it an honor to be a part of it. It didn’t feel like it was your place to just join in, you hadn’t earned that right yet, and you assumed you never would. “As long as I don’t have to sing.”

“Just come watch. Maybe try to have some fun.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Upon arriving at the hotel, you and Billy said goodbye, parting ways as he headed for soundcheck and you, in turn, heading back to your room. You had decided that you would go to the show, at least make the effort to be sociable with the cast. Also, Billy had invited you, and for some reason, you didn’t want to let him down. Despite the still present nagging feeling in the back of your mind that Billy was simply leading you on to make fun of you, you thought that he might actually be interested in getting to know you.

You freshened up in your room before heading back down to the convention area early. You could hear the band already in the theater doing soundcheck as you made your way to the green room. You were alone and decided to sit and wait. Everyone else should be showing up soon. You walked toward the couch, noticing a guitar leaned up against it as you sat. You picked it up curiously, holding it on your lap as you began to strum. Unfortunately, you didn’t know how to play. But, you messed around with it anyway, laughing at yourself and how terrible it sounded. You didn’t know how to hold it, or where to even put your hands, but you sort of wished that you did know.

You goofed off for a while, looking up as someone suddenly entered the room. You saw Rob, followed by the rest of the band. Rob noticed you, and looked at you with a raised eyebrow, seemingly surprised to see you there.

“Hey, Y/N,” Rob said slowly, “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Well, if it’s okay, I’d like to see you guys play for once.”

“That’s… cool,” he replied, looking confused. “Is that my guitar?”

“Oh,” you responded, looking down at the guitar that you were still holding. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have messed with it.”

“Do you play?” Billy asked suddenly, moving toward you.

“What? No,” you replied, moving to put the guitar back.

“Want me to show you?” He looked back to Rob, silently asking of it was okay that he used his guitar to teach you something. Rob shrugged, waving Billy, not too concerned that you had helped yourself in the first place.

“That’s okay-”

“Here, hold it like this,” he moved to the couch before you could think, sitting right behind you, uncomfortably close to you as he took your hands in his as he directed you where to hold the guitar. “You’re strumming with this hand and holding chords on the other one.”

You tried to relax, suddenly very aware of how close he was to you. His chest pressed firmly against your back, his hands touching yours, his breath, hot against your neck as he leaned in toward you. You felt your face heat up over how ridiculous this must look, him sitting behind you like this while you struggled to remain seated on the edge of the couch. He directed you to place your fingers on certain strings, explaining that you needed to hold them just right to get the correct sound. It took some struggling for you to figure out how to do as he said with your small hands. Eventually, with some assistance, you finally had them placed just right, you focused on keeping your hand still. Billy took your other hand and brought it up slowly before helping you bring it down against the strings, a very clear and perfect note emanating from the guitar.

You smiled to yourself.

“Look at that,” Billy whispered, “you played the C chord and it was perfect.”

“You technically did it for me,’ you laughed.

Billy let go of you, freeing your hands up, “okay, now you do it.”

You placed your fingers back in the same positions that he had shown you, taking a moment to be sure that you were doing it perfectly. You brought your hand up and strummed slowly, the same sound coming from the guitar.

“Still perfect,’ Billy said as he moved from behind you to sit next to you. The movement helped you to relax, now that he wasn’t so close to you.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked suddenly.

“What? Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”

“Because no one ever is. You’re paying attention to me, trying to get to know me… I want to know why.”

“Because I think you’re someone worth getting to know,” he said with a smile, his eyes studying you fondly.

“In the history of… well, my entire life, you’re the only person who’s ever said that. Everyone hates me, why don’t you?”

“No one hates you. You just intimidate people. Hell, you intimidate me.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re too serious, you’re not very friendly, and you shut everyone out,” he answered honestly. It probably should have stung, but it really didn’t. Even you knew that it was all true, but it still didn’t sit well with you.

“When you say it like that, I do sound like a bitch.”

“You’re not though. I still don’t know you well, but I know there’s more to you.”

“I don’t want to intimidate people. I just- It’s better to not let anyone get close,” you replied.

“Life is going to be pretty sad if you go through it alone.”

“I’ve been alone for a long time,” you reminded him, “I actually think life would be sad if I continued to let people walk all over me.”

“Let me take you out again,” he said, “I’ve got an idea for a fun date. I think you’ll like it.”

“I don’t know.”

“You went out with me once already, was it terrible?” He asked. His eyes furrowed, checking to see if you had actually been that turned off by dinner with him.

“No, it was nice actually,” you said honestly.

“Then, come on, give me another shot.”

You thought about it; wondering if you really should. Sure, he was nice to you and he seemed like a decent guy. But, you were more afraid of letting yourself get into another situation that could possibly damage your career.

“Fine,” you responded finally, agreeing to seeing him again. You knew you shouldn’t, but he had a strange effect on you. You didn’t think you were actually attracted to him, but he at least listened to you. Maybe, that’s all you ever really wanted.

He smiled at you, happy that you had agreed. You thought about asking him what he had planned, but you were silenced by Rob who was now calling out to him, indicating that it was time for them to start. You looked around, realizing that the others had, at some point, came into the room too. You had been so lost in Billy that you didn’t even notice them or the time.

“Come on,” Billy said, grabbing your hand, “come hang out backstage.”

You followed him out of the room, fully aware of how everyone else was looking at the two of you. Maybe they were surprised to see you actually being a part of something, or maybe they were more concerned with the fact that you were spending time with Billy all of the sudden. Either way, it didn’t matter to you. You knew you had shown them that they might be wrong about you.

Tag List: @winchestergirl-13  @thecandylovingarchangelgabriel  @capital-eyyyy-ohhh  @barba-booty  @narisjournal-blog  @waywardswain @laffytaffyhumor   @destielschild  @sorenmarie87  @smoothdogsgirl @kocswain @culturebay @itsfunnierin-enochian @typicalweirdbookworm @angelsandhuntersgalore @riversong-sam @emoryhemsworth @hunterpuff @mandilion76

[calamity-bean]

Harlots male characters ranked from most garbage to least

I’m not trying to pick on the guys here, it’s just easier to rank them alone rather than involve the ladies because there’s a lot fewer male characters than female, and also they’re mostly trash. So maybe I’m picking on the guys a bit. But don’t get too comfy, Harlots ladies — there are garbage folk among you, too.

This is as of episode 1.05, by which point the competition is such a close race that it’s honestly hard to say who’s worst.

Lord Fallon & Mr. Osborne: Definitely creeps, rapists, and abusers, quite likely actual murderers at this point, depending on how involved they are with what happened to that poor flower girl. It might seem like overkill to make them number one in the list given that we mostly only have hints of how awful they are so far, but I believe in them. I have every horrible confidence that they will live up to my expectations by the season’s end.

Benjamin Lennox: You know a cast is full of terrible people when you gotta sit there and deliberate whether to rank the Enslaver Of His Siblings (not to mention all the other enslaved people he owns!) above or below the murderers, child abusers, and rapists. Honestly, all the people this high up on the list should probably just be considered equally terrible in their own special ways.

Lord Repton: There’s something fucking wrong with Lord Repton. Actually, there’s a lot of things wrong with Lord Repton, and the serial sexual abuse of children is one of them, as is shooting at fifteen-year-old girls in the woods.

Nathaniel Lennox: Much more personable and seemingly kinder than Benny boy, but still, y’know, a slave owner, who didn’t even have the common decency to sign his “wife”s freedom papers? To provide for her in his will?? To free his own kids??? What the fuck!! What the fuck!!!!

George Howard: Was lower on this list when he was just a possessive, annoying scumbag; has since progressed to violent rape and must die. But first, I invite you all to help me collectively punch him in the dick.

Justice Cunliffe: Has not, as far as we know, personally raped, murdered, or enslaved anyone, and thus gets to be lower than them on this list, but facilitates rape and murder and is therefore still absolute garbage, make no mistake.

Charles Quigley: Honestly, the thing about Charles is that he, too, is a facilitator of abuse (helps Mama keep the girls prisoner, knows what Osborne does to them, etc) but unlike Cunliffe, who knows exactly how wrong his actions are, Charles seems to ... just be realizing it? He’s so pathetic and spoiled and immature, but I feel like there’s still hope for him to grow up and become a better person. Maybe. Somehow.

Christopher Rutledge: FINALLY we are crossing the threshold into characters who are not COMPLETE GARBAGE, even if they’re not really likable per se. So, Sir Christopher. Arrogant cheat with a really ugly wig? Yeah. But at least he condemned rape as “bad form.” That’s such a weak-ass condemnation that I ain’t gonna, like, applaud him for doing the bare minimum, but at least it’s a condemnation, and as far as we know, he’s not done worse.

Robert Oswald: Mr. Oswald’s not a bad guy. He’s not really a good guy either. Based on what we’ve seen, at least, he’s just pretty damn average, that bland middling flavor of everyday dudes who are a bit hypocritical about shame-facedly engaging harlots but aren’t cruel or disrespectful toward them. For being totally unexceptional, Mr. Oswald, and for your involvement in The Beast thing being unwitting thus far, you get to be firmly middle of the road.

Prince Rasselas: Spying is not super admirable. Especially spying for Lydia Quigley. But like all the other sex workers, he’s honestly just doing what he’s gotta do to survive, and though we haven’t seen enough of him yet to make a definitive judgment about his character, his kindness to Amelia in 1.05 is a good start toward indicating that he might be a pretty okay fella at heart.

Thomas Haxby: Can be a snooty lil jerk, sure, but fair to say that Charlotte and Howard are pretty damn cruel to him too, yeah? No surprise he’s kind of bitchy, the shit he has to put up with. On the other hand, is admirably devoted to his job, respects Lady Caroline, and has shown glimpses of a more sympathetic, human side. Not the sweetest guy, but a fundamentally decent one overall.

Daniel Marney: If Marney has a secret dark side hidden behind that sweet smile, we’ve yet to see it. A bit of an opportunist, sure, and arguably the sort of free spirit whose casual irresponsibility might prove dangerous, but kind, charming, respectful, and funny in every appearance he’s had so far. Overall, a friendly and all-around pleasant dude.

William North: May all of us who yearn for love & companionship someday be blessed enough to find a partner like William North. A partner with humor and kindness and sternness, who never gets jealous or possessive, who loves you and supports you through everything but also calls you on your fucking bullshit because he loves you and knows that you are better than this. Is also a caring dad to Jacob, Charlotte, and Lucy alike and just a pleasant, sensible person overall. Although not confirmed, it is entirely possible that Mr. North has done nothing wrong ever in his life.

tl;dr: At this point, at least, everybody from Charles Quigley and up is basically garbage, because even if they seem nice or amusing, they’re actively engaging in or facilitating terrible, harmful shit, while everyone from Christopher Rutledge down is basically okay because even if they have major personality flaws or don’t seem super personable on the surface, at least they aren’t RAPISTS or SLAVERS or MURDERERS, which should honestly be SUCH A BARE MINIMUM STANDARD OF BEHAVIOR, what the HECK.

[aseriesofunfortunatetexts]

All right, so I was trying to write a short little Esmé/Georgina/Olaf snippet for @countolafnph, and somehow it ended up being 2700 words long. I hate it, and my life, I’m basically just waiting for the sweet embrace of death over here, but until that happens, how about I let all of you watch my descend into poorly structured fic hell too? Oh, there are smutty parts btw. Surrounded by way too much blabbering, but they’re there.

She honestly doesn’t even notice that Olaf has stopped trying to be part of their conversation before it is pointed out to her so rudely by Olaf himself.

In Georgina’s defense, Esmé is one of the most fascinating people she has met in her entire life. She has always had a very hard time explaining this to other Volunteers back when they used to meet up to discuss work and consumed a bit too much alcohol, back before the Schism finally broke them apart for good, because those boring, narrow-minded idiots would look at Esmé’s most distinctive personality traits – namely her obsession with beauty, fashion, glamour, and what’s “in”, as well as her perfect disregard of any person who isn’t herself – and see them as proof of what a rotten human being she is. Meanwhile in Georgina’s world, these things are what she admires most about her on-off-maybe-sometimes-lover. She can listen to Esmé drawl on for hours about recent developments in fashion, changes in the restaurant scene, which clubs are hot and which ones you should never go to unless you want to be ostracized from polite society, simply because she enjoys how passionately Esmé feels about it all. Georgina has always been drawn to passionate people, and while it has gotten her into trouble in the past, she hasn’t been able to bring herself to quit this particular habit just yet.

In turn, it’s obvious that Esmé appreciates finally having a proper audience for once. Her pathetic excuse of a husband isn’t interested in these things at all, and while his cowardice and fear of conflict leads him to make constant attempts to pretend like he cares to gain Esmé favor, it’s obvious to everyone involved that he doesn’t actually care. Olaf can fake interest quite convincingly for a short amount of time, especially if the conversation revolves around what a delightfully cruel person Esmé is, but he will start getting too bored to keep up the act within an hour. Or he will realize that he won’t be awarded for his obvious sacrifice with sex, and you can see it very clearly on his face when he does.

Georgina on the other hand doesn’t have to fake anything, she loves every second they spend together, no matter what intrinsically pointless things Esmé wants them to do. Once in a while, when she plays her cards right, Esmé will take her out shopping during her visit, and that is the experience of a lifetime. Esmé clearly admires Georgina’s personal style, because rather than simply trying to force her into things that are in at the time, like she does with literally everyone else, she will try to find ways to combine the two. Like when Orientalism was suddenly in for two weeks and all the women in polite society had to wear saris, the brighter the better. Esmé bought her a dress in dark blue silk instead, in the professional cut Georgina prefers, covered in the most beautiful embroidery, elaborate flowers made of silver thread and tiny sapphires, all of them glinting like stars when she moved. They went to a party uptown later in the evening, probably hosted by someone important, but all Georgina remembers from it is that Esmé never took her eyes off her all through dinner, and as soon as the plates were cleared she dragged Georgina into the bathroom without a word, accidentally tearing open a seam in the dress when she tried to rip it off her too quickly. Neither of them cared.

They brought Olaf along for one of these shopping trips once, and it was well worth the energy it took to convince him to come. They managed to buy two nice suits for him before they accidentally got too close to the women’s section, and after that it was all dresses and lingerie for the next six hours. What should have been a brief weekend visit ended up with them staying in the penthouse for a week, just so they could fully appreciate every purchase – a phrase that here means treat Olaf like a dress up doll all day long, fuck in all of the seventy-one bedrooms at their disposal, as well as most of the living rooms, dining rooms, sitting rooms, standing rooms, etc. only pausing on occasion to eat and discuss who is the most pathetic loser, Jerome or Lemony Snicket, and then moving on to whatever dress and/or room came next.

Olaf had looked particularly gorgeous splayed out on the polar bear skin rug in front of the fireplace in the southwest corner library, wearing ridiculously expensive lingerie in deep, blood-red colored lace, with a matching garter belt to keep up a pair of sheer stockings, the crisp white fur beneath him a stark contrast to the black wig he favored that week, his make-up perfectly applied, And even though Georgina and Esmé did nothing but look at him for a very long time, he didn’t mind at all, he just basked in their undivided attention. When Esmé told him that they wouldn’t be touching him, that he would touch himself based on their instructions instead, he didn’t voice a single complaint, in fact he practically purred at the idea. He was so well-behaved that night, doing anything they asked, never reaching down to touch his cock before they told him to, even as the front of his pretty panties became more and more soaked with pre-come the longer the torture continued. By the time they finally decided to take pity on him, all it took to break him was a simply question: “Would you like to come, Olaf?”

The noise he made was so beautiful, a whimper so high-strung that even Esmé couldn’t deny him when he finally managed to whisper, “Yes.”

Esmé had gotten to her feet and slowly walked over to his tense, sweat-soaked form, bending down low enough to see that his mascara had started running, and he had ruined his carefully applied lipstick by biting his lips. She reached for his face, dragging her sharp fingernails down his cheek, then along his jawline, smirking when he sighed at the touch. “You know the magic word.”

Olaf’s eyes, previously unfocused and clouded with lust, had cleared immediately, and for a moment all he did was stare at Esmé in silence. They never really know how he will react to such a bold demand, whether it will be met with defiance or not. That time it was met with surrender, unconditional surrender. “Please,” would no doubt have sufficed, but he went on to actually beg afterwards. Esmé rewarded his decision by kneeling down next to him on the rug, tracing her fingers in nonsensical patterns down his heaving chest while Olaf pushed his hand down the front of his panties and finally grabbed his cock, moaning so loud that if Jerome was somewhere in the penthouse at the time, and he probably was, he would definitely have heard.

As high strung as he was, Olaf hadn’t lasted long after that. When Esmé caught one his nipples between her fingertips, pinched it hard, and called him “our pretty little slut”, it was all over, and Olaf came with a roar, arching his back off the rug. Some of his come landed on Esmé hand, and for a second he looked terrified when he noticed. But Esmé simply held the hand out towards him, and as he licked it clean, Georgina could see the color of his cheeks deepening, even though they were still flushed from his orgasm, and she mentally added another entry on her long list of Kinky Shit Olaf Likes.

… But she digresses.

Esmé is making them another round of drinks at the bar (this week’s hottest cocktail: The Mamarita. It has wine in it, so Olaf approves), happily listing all the places she would have taken them this evening, if it weren’t for the fact that all of them were 'out' by lunch. Georgina stands by the windows, enjoying the gorgeous view as she listens, only to be startled by Olaf suddenly sliding up to her. He steps right into her personal space, forcing her to crane her neck back to look him in the eye. The decidedly irritated – and therefor very unattractive - look on Olaf’s face does very little to convince Georgina that she ought to shift her attention from a woman as beautiful and alluring as Esmé to a petty man-child like him. But it does make her realize that it’s been a while since Olaf spoke, or maybe it’s just been a while since she cared to listen. In any case, the lack of attention they’ve paid him has obviously become too much to bear. Still, he doesn’t say anything, he just glares at her, so Georgina decides to forego words as well, tilting her head a bit and smirking instead of actually asking ‘what do you want now?’

For a while nothing happens. Then, with a gracefulness that you wouldn’t expect a man Olaf’s age to be capable of, he carefully drops to his knees in front of her. Oh, the look on his face is still angry, bitchy even, endless defiant despite the position he just put himself in. Georgina almost laughs at him. Olaf really brings a whole new meaning to the term ‘attention whore’, although she supposes she shouldn’t feel too above it all in this situation, because his ruse is going to work; she can’t say no to him when he gets on his knees, no matter how obvious it is that he’s only doing it because he can’t think of another way to get her attention. Does it count as being manipulated when you realize that it’s happening and allow yourself to be pulled along anyway?

Esmé is still talking, oblivious to what is going on behind her back. Georgina tries to keep listening, but then Olaf puts his hands on her ankles, slowly gliding his long fingers upwards along her calves with enough pressure that she can feel the touch clearly through the boots she’s wearing, never breaking eye contact with her at any point. When he reaches the upper edges of the boots he lightens the pressure, running his fingertips teasingly along the bare skin just above them while Georgina tries her best to keep her breathing steady, before finally curling his fingers around the back of both her knees and resting them there, his thumbs pressed against the sides of her kneecaps. If he had been holding on tighter one might have been tempted to accuse him of clinging to her knees, but like this it’s somewhere between playful and reverent. The effect his touch is having on her – damn him for knowing her this well – must be clear, because his scowl is fading, quickly replaced with growing smugness. Obviously he decides to push his luck then, releasing her knees with a leer and trying to slide his fingers up the back of her thighs and under her skirt.

Georgina punishes that startling display of insolence in the same way she always does, by delivering sharp blow with the end of her cane to the part of Olaf’s body that happens to be within closest striking distance. In this case it’s his thigh. He lets out a sharp gasp, his fingers stopping their journey upwards immediately, although he doesn’t let go of her. His eyes are shining brighter than usual, his pupils already growing large with arousal, and when Georgina reaches down to card the fingers of her free hand through his hair, he leans into the touch like a cat seeking attention from its owner. She indulges him for a little while before grabbing a fistful of hair without warning, pulling it sharply to force him to tilt his head back and expose his throat to her. He has a very nice throat, actually, and the noise he makes when you pull his hair is very nice as well, an appealing mixture or pain and delight.

Said noise must have gotten Esmé attention, because she suddenly stops talking, and when Georgina manages to tear her eyes away from Olaf to look at her, she finds that Esmé has turned to face them, finished cocktails held loosely in her hands. The wicked smile she directs at Olaf’s kneeling form makes Georgina’s pulse skip a beat. “Have we been neglecting you, darling?”  

Olaf looks ready to deliver a snarky response, so Georgina gives his hair another hard yank, and the only sound he ends up making is a long hiss. “Don’t ruin it already,” Georgina says. “You were doing so well, keeping your mouth shut.”

For a few seconds Olaf seems to be silently debating how best to proceed from here. He has their undivided attention now, so all that’s left is for him to decide what he wants to do with it. It can’t have been a difficult decision, because moments later he allows all his muscles to relax, dropping his head back and willingly bearing his throat further without Georgina having to pull his hair to make him do it. He lets his hands falls from where they were still resting on Georgina’s things, and instead, very slowly, puts them behind his back. And even in this position, with every aspect of his body language screaming submission, his eyes are still glinting with barely concealed insolence. They will need to work to keep him like this.

Well, Georgina Orwell never shied away from doing some work. She lets go of Olaf’s hair and starts petting it instead, knowing how much he secretly likes that. “Say, Esmé?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Is submission ‘in’ these days?”

Esmé laughs brilliantly. “Submission is always in.”

“Lucky you, huh?” Georgina ask Olaf, dragging her fingernails along his scalp and smiling when he shudders.

Esmé leaves Olaf’s drink at the bar, but she brings one over for Georgina, who immediately accepts it without acknowledging Olaf’s pointed sigh at her decision to stop petting him in favor of alcohol. Like he’s got anything to say in regards to alcohol and priorities. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” Esmé says, reaching down for Georgina’s cane. “Have you ever used this on him?”

Olaf tenses momentarily, but when Esmé starts stroking her beautiful fingers up and down the cane just under the handle - which Georgina has to admit she is clutching a bit hard right now - the sight of her caressing the sleek black wood is obviously arousing enough to him that he soon manages to get a hold of himself and relax once more.

“No,” Georgina answers, unnecessarily.

Esmé giggles this time. “A good old fashioned caning is a beautiful thing.” As if sensing Georgina’s hesitation, she continues. “I’ll go first, show you how it’s done?”

The only immediate reaction that springs into Georgina’s mind is that she wants to kiss this amazing woman, so she does. Esmé’s lips taste like the cocktails they’ve been drinking and her expensive lipstick, and it’s the sweetest thing Georgina has ever tasted. They kiss until Olaf starts shifting his weight from one knee to the other in a clear sign of impatience, at which point Esmé pulls away back from Georgina to glare at him. “The fifth bedroom on the right. There are already ropes attached to the headboard. When we get there you’ll be naked and kneeling on the bed, ready to be tied up. You got that?”

Olaf is just as remarkable graceful when getting up from his knees as he is getting onto them, Georgina notes.

“Do you want to bet on how many strokes he can take before breaking?” Esmé asks once he is out of the room.

Georgina gives her a wry smile. “When was the last time we managed to break him?”

“There’s always a first,” Esmé says. “I’m betting ten.”

Georgina’s lack of experience with this particular kind of physical punishment makes is very hard for her to come up with a good estimate, but she decides to give Olaf more credit than Esmé apparently does; “Fifteen.”

Esmé smirks, taking a sip of her cocktail. “You’re on.”

[alilysrose]

So I watched the fake TFP

Under the cut I give as in depth a summary of the episode as possible with quick reactions from me.

I’m happy to message anyone the link to the episode :)

Obviously spoilers below. I’m sorry about how long it is!

Tagging a few people who may be interested @inevitably-johnlocked @multifandom-madnesss @theobellz @watertherose

I speak Serbo-Croat and understand basic Russian so I was able to get a bit of a gist of what was going on but nothing super in depth. I’m a music nerd and play the violin (Ben’s violin playing has always annoyed me!) so I comment on that a bit.

I was typing notes on my phone so I’ve used the following abbreviations:

-S = Sherlock, J = John, M = Mycroft, E = Eurus

So they're on a plane and everyone is miraculously dead apart from a little girl. Looks like whatever happened to kill everyone happened suddenly. Loads of turbulence. Oxygen masks are hanging down. Phone starts ringing, girl answers it, asks for help. Moriarty says hi. 

How the fuck do you call a phone on an airplane.  

Omg the acting. I'm dying this is horror movie trope central and I don't even watch horror movies. Mark must have had so much fun doing this. 

And Mycroft is shown to be so sentimental. Omg the paintings bleed from the eyes like seriously.   

Wtf clowns. Like how can this be serious. Music from HoB. Why is Sherlock wearing the hat. This is literally a crack fic. Like characters keep randomingly appearing.   [Note from after the episode, like something fucky is happening all the characters magically teleport at least once). 

Music from Blind Banker.

Just mentioned something about Mary and a snake. Dog bark and flashback to child Eurus. Mycroft hallucinating about their childhood? 

Mycroft client and taking John and Sherlock back through their childhood. Clearly where the boy band photo shoot came from. Because it was on location (ie $$$) in inclined to believe some of it is real.   

Main theory about russian - fewer people speak it for translating purposes. Therefore if there are real scenes in there with either fake or real dubs we'll have a harder time telling Talking about Sherlock remembering.  

So Eurus apparently burnt down the homes family cottage as a young kid and Mycroft is remembering this and telling S and J in the client chair at Baker Street. Doesn't make sense, client chair is rarely used for exposition in Sherlock. The blocking is off. 

Skull hell still s4 skull turned on.   

Mycroft describing the institution/ prison where Eurus was kept. Hint: it's Mark's blueprint dick.   

Now everyone's hearing Eurus. There's a drone. Someone asks what the drone is. Someone answers it's a drone. Stellar dialogue (I can't tell the voices apart).  

Omg Hudders. [Post ep note: she was dancing to music while vacuuming. No clue what happened to her after the bomb. Ded?]

Omg dat slow mo. Highschool musical. Same fire promo as end of TLD. Now we know why it was so corny. That was Sherlock not Mycroft on the right. Speakers on ship keep saying sherinford. Sailors are confused af. Sherlock teleports to the boat. With John! Swan dives onto the boat deck (same as waterfall music).   

Again only two seconds of boat stuff compared to the amount we saw them shooting.   

Sherlock wrote 'tell my sister I'm here' in the sand at sherrinford. So this is after TLD and they've apparently recaptured Eurus and John has had plastic surgery after being shot in the face? Okaaaaaaaaay. 

Omg lmao Mycroft disguised as the fisherman (similar to that patient that John treated in empty hearse).   

So they've discovered Mycroft but still letting him give directions to Sherlock to get to Eurus' cell over an earpiece.   

Ben looks weird af with a beanie. Eurus plays the violin. 

Mycroft and John somehow made friends with interrogator.   

Sherlock is playing the theme for the woman and the bowing doesn't match the music or even when Sherlock is playing 😂😂😂 FAKE 

They actually touch their ears when listening to the earpieces. Is this year 9 drama class?   

Literally just did storm pathetic fallacy along with scary music.   

Eurus is trying to kill Sherlock. Sherlock is just lying there. Literally not even trying to defend himself like he did with Culbertson. 

They just had John fainting backwards, going cross eyed and spiny spiny effects. 

Moriarty is playing 'I want to break free' he looks like he's in one of the those sexy car ads.   

Moriarty: how many? 

Guard: three 

Moriarty: enough 

(Guessing they're referring to M, S and J) 

Nativity scene. Moriarty and M having a scene together. Mycroft sitting down. M theory maybe???   

Most telling: apart from 221B Baker Street, no wallpaper. 

Now some interpretative dance between Moriarty and Eurus. Lettering on the cell where M, S and J are says three feet.   

Now flight of dead again, girl calls through from the plane now. M and S deducing the girl, coming up with a plan, a better plan?   

Eurus is out, supposedly Moriarty broke her out. They've got the wife of random guy [post ep note: His name is David, WHY THE FUCKERY ARE THERE ONLY LIKE 3 NAMES ON THIS SHOW???] who's locked up with M, S and J.   

Eurus gives S the choice to shoot J or M to save wife of random guy. S chooses M. Mark's acting is terribly hilarious. Sherlock gives up on M and tries to hand gun butt to J. Omg red light going on and off with Moriarty trying to beatbox???? (Probably countdown). Yeah he's saying tick tick tick tick. Sounds like beat boxing though. 

John is going to shoot random guy??? He just asked random guy's name (David). Hmmmmm. Making him kneel. John says no. David takes gun off John. D suicides. Mycroft throws up. Mycroft miraculously recovers. 

Eurus shoots D's wife. Eurus is pissed Sherlock didn't choose J or M??? Sherlock has the gun again.   

Moriarty says Choo chooo as S, J and M are able to leave the room. [Post episode note: I’m clearly witnessing emmy-award wining writing here)  

Back to plane. Kid is drinking a juice and still on the phone somehow. Sherlock trying to deduce. Someone's at kid's grandparents.   

This episode is so weird it's like S having to pass a series of Moriarty and Eurus created tests. SMJ have somehow acquired a rifle. Continuity 👌 

Ah they're deducing who owns the rifle. J getting bitchy with M. Didn't answer the riddle fast enough so Eurus hanging three guys (not hung) outside the window to help Sherlock guess and deduce.   

All three guys dropped into the sea to death. Pretty sure S just told J that caring doesn't help/ save them to comfort? him. 

S and M deducing a coffin. I love you written on the coffin. Now S has 3 minutes to get Molly to say I love you on the phone? Eurus now beat boxing (ie. tick tick tick tick). A mastervillisn clearly came up with this plot. 

This tick tock red light stuff is like so extra.   

Why are they making such a big fuss about this I love you? And why was Sherlock so upset about it? Now Sherlock it beating up a coffin.   

Like wtf is the plot. They solve a puzzle by Eurus in one room then move to the next room? Now and then plane girl phones in and now and then there are red lights with Moriarty or Eurus beatboxing (tick tock tick tick). 

Sherlock has to choose between M and J. AGAIN. M and J both trying to convince Sherlock to shoot them and not the other. I think Mycroft just revealed M theory. Shoot straight little brother 😭 Mycroft highlighted in red light again, Moriarty pops up again.  

I can't pick where this music is from.   

Sherlock can't do it. He's about to suicide. Counting down. Why aren't M and J doing something?  Only Eurus is trying to talk him out of it. Sherlock pulled a pin out of the back of his head? Flashback of Eurus. Sherlock lying on table girl on plane coming through speakers.   

John teleported to well. Mycroft's voice somehow over the loud speakers. This doesnt make any sense and it's not that it's in Russian.   

Sherlock was in a shipping container helpfully dropped outside his childhood home (Musgrave). But he can still somehow hear Eurus. This almost has me on the EMP train. 

Why can everyone hear each other?? And why are there magically TV screens everywhere? 

John is chained to the bottom of the well.   

Sherlock talking to Eurus on a magic TV inside Musgrave hall and having childhood flashbacks while John just drowns?   

Sherlock just said Victor Trevor who was his childhood friend? But Victor in BB???Victor did something to Redbeard though. Now a shot of a kid down a well. Maybe young John or Victor? So young Victor drowned and John just found his skull in the bottom of the well. 

Flashback of great game pool and Abominable Bride waterfall. Wtf I'm now believing in EMP thanks to a fake episode? This scene (from TV eurus) could be the 26 pages? [Post ep: I doubt it but trying to keep an open mind to how fake it could be] Sherlock playing with words in the air at Nemo's grave.   

The girl has been crashing in the plane for almost 90 minutes now. Still somehow has a phone connection. Sherlock runs into a room and it's Eurus again. Definitely EMP. Wtf. Girl on plane was Eurus?   

Eurus: no one listened to me Sherlock hugging Eurus 'don't cry'.  

Time jump. Eurus arrested. John outside of well. J has shock blanket. Lestrade there.   

I just don't get how the fuck everyone teleported everywhere in the episode. 

This is definitely an ASIP callback. J and S talking about a text. John: 'it's neither better nor worse' 

Mummy Holmes telling M off (about Eurus, Sherlock and Sherlock's blog)? Daddy Holmes there too. Sherlock watching. This is in Mycroft's bunker office. 

Sherlock takes violin to Eurus. 

Sherlock playing to Euros. Can hear violin while Sherlock and John clean up Baker Street. 

Ugh the violin playing has almost always annoyed me in the show they don't move their wrists. Now Sherlock and Eurus playing a duet. 

Mary on a video to John. 

Brief shots back to ASIP. (John's nightmare st the bedsit, first shot of Sherlock opening the body bag).

Mary is doing a wrap up voice over for John??? Or the audience???

Awww J and S remaking Baker Street. Spray paint and gun shots and everything! 

Lmao E and S playing Sherlock main theme on violin. 

Parentlock. 

Mummy and Daddy and Mycroft sitting watching Eurus and possibly Sherlock play violin while smiling. 

Mary says Sherlock and Dr Watson. This Ep is obvs fake. Random running shot of Sherlock and John out a building. Credits! 

Like I literally can’t believe what I just watched. I literally cannot make sense of it as well.

IF this episode is real then I’m 100% on the EMP train even though that disappoints me as I’ve always seen it as the easy way out.

Honestly though I’m so doubtful that this is real. It had no new score, sloppy acting, sloppy writing, slopping cinematography and editing. Ugh. 

I’m still not sure what the point of the whole story was. Like Mycroft told Sherlock and John about Eurus burning down their house so they decided to go on a boat trip to visit her. Somehow Mycroft got there when we only saw John and Sherlock on the boat. Then it turned into mystery hour solving weird puzzles for Eurus while Moriarty beatboxed and a girl on the plane crashed for 60 minutes. Then more teleportation, Sherlock talking to more tv screens and a miraculous ending that fell about 1,895 miles short. Also how was Eurus on the island in the first place. That definitely was never explained. 

I honestly got bored while watching it which should not have happened given I was watching it for the first time while taking notes in a language I barely speak. Like geez it must be 10 times worse in English. Okay. Rant over. I hope this helps or something lol and if this is the real episode tomorrow I’ll try and get this review published!

Seriously though I love you guys and this has been the best fandom day ever. 

[jaxxonpollux]

notes for vivien during her leave of absence

i’m writing this mostly to talk myself down from going crazy. i don’t know what my problem is. you’d think i’d be able to handle a girl being gone for a week; and i mean, i definitely COULD, if you had said something like “hey, i’m going on a yoga retreat for a month, toodles,” not just disappeared. it’s the unknown that makes me feel nuts, like the possibilities that just bore into my head. i’ve written a mental list like a million times wondering what could have happened, trying to figure out the most likely possibility. we talked about trump. you went to do laundry. then nothing. and i definitely have a void, and i keep feeling like i should do something. write a letter. hop on a plane. call you at various times of the day (maybe you dropped your phone into the couch and just can’t find it?). 

at the same time, i do recognize how pathetic it is. it’s like, symptoms of a guy just after being dumped. sending constant affectionate support messages and all that, whiny messages. “miss you, sending my prayers! sending good energy! hope all is well” i honestly hate being that way, even if the feeling is genuine. i want to be more stoic, aloof, nonchalant, casual, not fretting and biting my nails and whining and moping and all that. maybe they’re just thoughts i should keep to myself. maybe there are a lot of things i do and say i should just keep inside. i don’t think they’re very flattering. they’re all things i wish people would do and say for me, i think, which is why i do them, kind of like a “treat others the way you’d like to be treated” mentality. it really is sorta gross. i just need to be affectionate in more subtle ways. here i am again, stuck in my own head.

i do hope you’re okay. and i hope you realize i’ll understand no matter what’s going on. even if it’s a situation that like, sucks for me, like you got back together with b or something. which is something i half expect a lot of the time anyway, even though i really don’t quite know how the two of you get along, what the story really is. i’m just always ready for it. in any case, i’m still fine with being a platonic friend, i mean, we do really get along, you have to admit that. even if we’re not meant to be together. “meant to be.” another strange term for a strange thought. i know i was thinking about stuff like that a lot before you were gone, whether or not you liked me the way i liked you. always this fear of my affection being reciprocated. or like it rapidly started to wane after i came back from miami. i don’t know.

the same thing happened with ainsley, my disney channel girlfriend? i went to see her in plano, we were stuck in bed with each other all day every day. we’d go to the museum and she’d just want to go back home and lie in bed together again. we’d go to a movie, i’d feel a little sick, and we’d leave early, go back home and lie in bed (i think the movie was the grudge 2. didn’t miss it). and we’d be in bed all day under her parents watchful eyes, it was a little embarrassing really! but i remember she had her head in my lap in the backseat when her mom was driving me back to the airport, when i was leaving. i had her listen to mad rush, by philip glass on my ipod, she nearly fell asleep. it was appropriately sad, and sweet. it was a real Boyfriend and Girlfriend thing to do. it felt like the type of scene that belonged in a normal long distance relationship, the longing creeping in just as the good part came to end. always in contact with each other, feeling as much of each other as possible while we could, so we could save the feeling until the next time.

she broke up with me about a week or two after i got back to ohio. and it makes you really reflect back on everything with like, extreme paranoia. like if she was thinking about it the entire time you were together, or if she was just putting it off and ignoring it. was she thinking about it when we had sex in the shower? was she thinking about it when she was showing me old acting videos she did as a younger teenager? at the movies? at the museum? maybe staying in bed all that time, spending all the time together that we did, the closeness, maybe it was just her saying goodbye. and that’s the kind of thing that drags around behind you for years, not the breakup. all the wonderings and questions without answers. it’s probably why i still think about her, even ten years later. just in reflection, not in a pining tortured way. but wondering what it meant for me, how it shaped me, what it really meant. another one of those “mysteries of life,” or something.

i felt like coming to miami was the beginning of something. but maybe it was the end. shows how intuitive i actually am, huh? pisces boy, head in the clouds. sweaterboy, always trying to please, never thinking of himself. at the very least, that memory of staying with you in that hotel room is gonna be with me for a long time, no matter if it was the beginning or the end. even if you decided you’re done with me, even if you’re with b again, even if you’re locked up in an insane asylum, even if your head got lopped off, even if you’re an alien and had to go back to your home planet, that weekend meant a lot to me. i don’t know how many weekends you’ve had like that with other people, probably loads, but it was special for me. and i’m gonna be in my deathbed looking at my palms, trying to remember what you told me about my lifeline being so long, or my love line disappearing into nothing.

anyway, what else should i write for you? i had to go to work in about an hour, so i have at least another hour of writing, huh. we’re getting all that focaccia ready for trump tomorrow. we also have a small plate up for about 370 people, and i have to make my “famous” giant lavash crackers for the trump thing too. apparently they split up the culinary folks into two different teams for the trump thing, since we’re all gonna be trapped in the battelle ballroom all day to prepare for it. i’m on the team headed by “chef frank,” who has been described to me as our “corporate chef,” i.e. the boss of my boss. visiting to be in the presence of the president. he’s a very judgmental, pig-headed italian man, but luckily i have an agreeable personality and kiss his ass enough that he doesn’t bother me. my coworker, however, ambyr, goes ballistic whenever she hears he’s in the building. ambyr is like one of those millenial names we were making fun of, isn’t it? jaxxon. madeighsonne. anyway, it’ll be a hell of a day on friday.

--

i finished all of mad men too. i was SO happy pete and trudy got back together, honestly just happy for trudy. i have a crush on trudy, especially late-game trudy. don’t judge me. and pete was honestly still pretty weird and pathetic, i wouldn’t have gone for it if i was her but EH. pete was doing ok with that real estate girl but he kinda botched it by being a workaholic, she had a short attention span it seemed.

what else? glen and betty was creepy and semi-sweet at the same time, as usual, with him all like “YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN MY BITCH >:)” and betty like “:) no no :)” like not really that aggressive and probably totally down for it under different circumstances. anyway, i’m sure glen died at war, and poor sally! just got dumpstered on, that was the real shame. betty just fading off into cancer town. bobby never got to grow up. harry never got to have any character development either, just stayed terrible. ken kind of turned bitter? with his eyepatch, that reminded me of you too.

and then ol’ don. kind of upset that stephanie didn’t stick around and have a whole litter of his babies or whatever, and i was half expecting don to be swept back into that traveling bohemian millionaire genius group again. instead he ended up at a hippie retreat. was the implication that don wrote that hippie coke ad? for crummy mcann? i was kind of expecting him to die tbh. shrug, well good for him, i guess. bert ghost was sorta odd, i didn’t realize don even gave a shit about bert.

and joan had a sad ending too!! oh UGH i was SOOO upset when they introduced her old man “boyfriend” like in the last few episodes, i knew it as soon as i saw him. like oh great, here comes the last minute savior for joan right at the very end of the show, what a stupid cop out. glad he was muscled out at the last second by joan’s massive business dong. she has bigger fish to fry! and then she goes and asks preggy to be a partner with her, and preggy goes and says NAH at the very end. i was like, so what the hell happened to joan then? hopefully she just got to be a millionaire the rest of her life and moved to paris or something.

preggy and what’s his face romance was sort of contrived. and a long time coming. like good for you guys, eye roll, you young idiots. who else? i guess that was everyone important. oh, yeah, roger shacked up with megan’s mom, i don’t blame him, she was pretty hot. i love a bitchy woman. roger’s daughter kinda depressed me, on that stupid hedonism hippie commune. whatever. and yeah, megan became washed up just like you said. she basically like never even acted at all when she moved out the california, that whole thing was a huge mistake.

i guess that’s all for now! mad men wise. i’m at a loss for what to watch next. i think there was some show i told myself i was gonna have YOU watch, but i can’t remember what it was now. it might’ve been something you’ve already seen.

--

i do hope i hear from you again soon, and i’m not still writing stupid posts like this a month from now. but we’ll see. i really miss talking to you. if i don’t hear from you before the weekend, i think i might just keep your birthday present here with me, for fear of it getting lost out in the world. i don’t even know if you’re in miami right now. but there’s a lot of sentimental stuff in this box, and i’m putting a lot of effort into it, because like, the plan was for you to have an ENJOYABLE birthday for a change, right? like, i thought maybe i’d order you some wine and we could watch a move over the phone and just have a regular date night, not even think about birthday stuff. and you’d just have this big box of random little surprises that i’d have spoiled you with. and it would just be nice and not a headache.

i think you’ll be 31? sorry if the number makes you cringe. honestly the attitude you have towards aging really makes no sense to me. it must be a woman thing. like, i understand feeling like you’re not fulfilling your goals on a healthy timeline, but i feel that like, every ducking day, and i don’t think that’s what bothers you. i think you just don’t wanna feel and look old right?

i’ve said it a million times, but you’re so beautiful to me, and you will still be beautiful at 31. or 35, or 45, or 99. you have all these wonderful features right now that are so attractive, your big blue eyes, your tiny blushing nose, your incredible nefertiti neck, your scrappy scarecrow straw hair. your legs and thighs are so soft and luscious and warm, your butt is full and round and really cute, you’ve got bones that point and poke out at the shoulders and elbows and things that remind me how small your upper body is. your voice is still my favorite ever. and when you get older, you’re gonna still have a lot of these things, you know? they might be different, but they’ll still be beautiful and wonderful and You, and you’ll have brand NEW features too that’ll be just as endearing. i always think of like, creepy old men staring at old women licking their lips like “mm-mm she’s a looker,” and wondering, wow, i guess an old man’s tastes really change as he grows older too. or like, they just appreciate things more, or they know what beauty looks like even when it gets kinda wrinkly and gray.

plus, knowing you, you’re gonna keep things up as high as possible for a very long time. you’re not just gonna attract older men, you’ll have like, college guys trying to climb up and mount you when you’re 60 years old. you’re gonna have the air of like, a whorehouse madam, no longer in the game but still incredibly sexy and intelligent, with every single trick still up her sleeve and too much dignity to ever use them except in extreme circumstances. smarter than any man you’ve ever encountered, and always ready to swing the dagger. you’re going to be different flavors of beautiful every decade that passes by, and i never want you to feel like getting older is a detriment. biological clock bothering you? uh i’ll come knock you up right now if that’s an issue, i’m down for it

maybe things get out of hand at 6am, i’ve been up all night. gotta get ready for work in about 20-25 minutes. please be safe, please come back. i promise not to wait forever, but you’ll always be a part of me now.

[babysquirrelkat-blog]

Introduction Post

It’s been a while since I’ve been back to Tumblr.  Things got pretty good in my life and I didn’t need it as much.  For several years Tumblr was my crutch.  It was my way of fulfilling my human need for socialization and peer bonding.  That might sound sad and pathetic... :/  I’ve been mentally ill since 2008. Although I suspect that my issues go much further back and on into my childhood.  2008, when I was 19, may have just been when my brain just finally blew its breakers so to speak.  I was smoking a lot of pot back then.  Did some coricidins, and went into psychosis.  They originally diagnosed me with drug induced psychosis.  I of course didn’t believe I was sick, and I kept smoking pot, which prolonged my psychosis long enough for them to diagnose me with schizophrenia.  I lost all of my friends and even a lot of my family.  I no longer knew myself let alone anyone else.  I had to get to know my own mother again; learn who she was.  Some of my family I never got to know again, because they demonized me for being ill.

For a while I didn’t leave my house, and if I did, I didn’t leave the car.  A trip to the grocery store meant a half and hour or more waiting in the car because I was too frightened to go inside.  My mom would get annoyed with me.  Flash forward a year or so, I would leave the house, but every where I went was a panic attack waiting to happen.  I would start feeling unsafe, my heart would start pounding, everything and everyone around me started feeling too close, too loud, too bright, and too threatening.  I started feeling that the people around me where going to hurt me, imprison me, or kill me. My mom was constantly pissed at me for running out of restaurants to smoke a cigarette during a meal... and then just never coming back inside.

I slowly got better.  Very slowly.  I didn’t regain a social life or my own personality.  I lost my liberal ideologies because of the catholic delusions I experienced during psychosis.  I had no original or individual ideas. I was sorta an asshat. A nice asshat with as much manners as my anxiety could not interfere with, but an asshat.

I thought life was always going to be completely bland.  I thought I was going to grow old in my childhood bedroom at my mothers house.  I wasn’t going to marry or have children. I had a lot of potential at one time.  I was beautiful, talented, creative, smart and passionate.  The anti-psychotics had taken me from a teeny tiny 96lbs at 4′11″ to 238 lbs.  I had acne all over my face. It’s riddled with scars.  I never had acne before the medications. I stopped having periods.  I had two periods that started on their own and maybe 3-4 that were started with pills from my doctor in the span of 6 years. 5-6 periods in 6 years.  I felt broken.  I felt less like of a woman. I had no confidence left.  I spent all my time on Tumblr and watching my fandom shows. From age 19-25 I had very little contact with any one my age.  I felt like I was old before I ever got a chance to be young.

In 2012 or so I was diagnosed with schizoaffective.  Schizophrenia and bipolar.  There was also PTSD, Primary O OCD, shit tons of anxiety and depression, and some slight movement disorders from the drugs.

In July of 2014 I took myself off all of the drugs.  The CNP who was in charge of my case flipped out.  She called me non-compliant and a liar.  Even sent a nasty letter to my college financial aid.  She didn’t believe mental illness was an excuse for the symptoms of those mental illnesses.  I’ve ran into that a lot over the years.  Even from the people who claim to be the most supportive.  My mother thinks she is the champion of my mental health.  Maybe she is in her own ways.  But there are things she has never quite grasped.  She could never understand why I couldn’t clean the entire house if being unemployed gave me all the time in the world to do so. Being on Tumblr made her think I was childish.  She had even me convinced that because of trauma I was stuck at 16 years old and would always be a child.  She treated me like a lazy bratty teenager instead of recognizing my symptoms.  She had people in my family doing the same.  Calling me to lecture me.  Telling me I should be praying for the health of other people if I wanted to get better.  My aunt told me that she has to force herself out of bed some days to get to work. As to say, you aren’t the only one who has depression.  That I should be able to deal with it better and not complain.  Other people had it worse.  Well after 7 years in bed I finally forced myself out the front door, so to speak, so perhaps her argument almost had a leg to stand on.

After going off meds, I started to regain myself.  I got a lot of shit.  Everything I said happened to me during the day was still perceived with a lot of skepticism.  If I said someone said something to me at the store, no matter what it was, or how believable, I was still asked, “Are you sure that’s what happened.”

In 2015 I met a guy online and we started dating.  We were extremely happy.  He helped me find who I was again.  I started to remember myself.  Which so happens to be a somewhat bitchy siren cunt from a feminist dimension on the other side of a portal that popped out of a earthy hippie chick’s mirror.... Or well something like that.   Sometimes I’m a complete mother hen to my friends, I worry about them.  I do things for them.  I take care of everyone in my small circle.  I stress and I panic and I cook and I drive a mini van.  I get angry when someone threatens who and what I love and that anger comes out of me like a tidal wave.  I even found out that I act quick in an emergency.

In August of 2015 I started having convulsions and an abnormal gait.  A year and a half later I am doing somewhat better.  I have found that the shaking and inability to walk is a manifestation of my anxiety.  It only happens when my anxiety has been triggered, specifically during PTSD episodes.  A loud noise could send me to the floor screaming and shaking.  It made me feel scared at first.  The life I had just regained was ending all over again.  But it has subsided quite a lot.

My boyfriend was put in jail for a DUI on Nov 2 2015.  My mental health deteriorated without him. I felt lost in a void.  He got out Feb 25 2016 and I felt so far from him.  He didn’t seem real.  Where before he was the only thing breaking through my dissociation.  I could touch him then and he was as far away as all the rest of reality.  I still refused to start meds again.  The meds kept me sick.  I needed to be able to deal with this all on my own.  I still do.  The meds are not my answer.

My boyfriend was also having issues of his own.  He was taking half his klonopin pills as soon as he got the bottles.  He lost his job.  He was awful on the pills.  I finally told him it was the pills or me.  He flushed them and it hasnt been a problem since.  Although, I did worry he would resent me for it. 

He and I have had a lot of problems here recently.  We moved into out own apartment in September 2016.  He has been working 2nd shift and staying up all night, sleeping all day.  This has left me alone a lot.  I don’t feel like he listens to a lot that I say.  He’s constantly irritating me with sexist remarks.  He’s constantly turning my arguments into his.  I don’t let him.  I call him on his bullshit every time.  He will interrupt me talking about what’s important to me so he can talk about some random ass shit that had nothing to do with anything.  Which wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t talk for half an hour.  If I interrupt him to finish what I was saying for five seconds he uses that as an excuse to say that I’m the real problem.  I suppose that’s half the time.  The other half we get along really well.  Like really well.  Which is wonderful.

I still want to marry him.  I want to have his baby. I want to beat him with a frying pan and then snuggle with him while we watch Supernatural.  Did I mention we finally started trying to conceive now that I can have periods again.  First month we tried was this last month.  My cycle is 33 days. So I started testing like a crazy person 14dpo... everything has been negative.  I’m now a week late on my period and my tests are so negative they aren’t even getting evap lines anymore( I test all the time even though we weren’t officially trying til this last month).  My lady bits totally choked with 10 seconds left in the game.

So I’ve been pretty depressed these last few weeks.  I’m stressed out.  I’m a taxi driver for my boyfriends brother.  Taking him everywhere, taking the boyfriend to work, driving my sister everyonce and a while.  I’m in a play.  Which only takes up about 9 hours a week.  Yet, I have been so stressed out that I’ve not been able to take care of myself.  I don’t have the energy to cook much, eat healthy, do laundry, bathe.  I’m gaining weight from easy junk food and lack of moving.  I mostly sit on the couch or in the driver’s seat.  I don’t have much time with anyone outside of giving them rides or during the time they are waiting for rides.  I get maybe two hours or less with my boyfriend a day during the week.  On the weekend I’m lucky to get time alone with him between calls for my help to do things for everyone else.  My need to help, it seems, always becomes expected by people.  I offer assistance a few times and their lives become my responsabilty.  I love them all, but I need them to understand that I sometimes need a break and they can’t call me for everything, without making them feel like they can’t call me for anything.

TL;DR So that’s sorta where I’ve been and where I’m at now.  That was actually somewhat brief... O.o  Basically, I’ve felt completely unimportant and without justification for my existence here lately and I’m back to Tumblr as my crutch for a bit.  Somewhere I can feel like I have a mild place to call home; away from a life that seems to just be one giant mental illness prison following me around and stalking me for the better part of a decade. 

(EDIT: Since being off medications, my schizophrenic symptoms have subsided.  All that remains is the bipolar and multiple anxiety based disorders.  Although I do hear voices occasionally, I know that those voices are simply my own feelings that weren’t quite addressed by my conscious mind floating up from my subconscious.  For example I could feel a swelling of happiness in my chest for my boyfriend and hear a voice that says, “I love him.” )

If you got this far congratulations and thank you, here are some XOXOs for your trouble.

<3 Kat

[deyadee]

Without You

Do you ever have a comfort song? I always thought comfort media and objects were just excuses for weird people to complain about someone wrote their name wrong at Starbucks and that this thing soothed them.

I’ve never really had anything like this. Any items or things that make me happy either are the cause of my problems (such as the ten thousand foods I shove in my mouth to distract me from how pathetic I am) or will start out happy to me but my mind will twist them to make me sad (ex: I love Anime OPs and EDs so I have a playlist of every anime OP and ED I’ve watched arranged from my favorite to least favorite. I listen to it all the time but out of nowhere I’ll start to hate myself because I’m a pathetic weeb that’ll never get a girlfriend or boyfriend because I’m a fucking idiot that likes anime.)

Music especially has this affect on me. It doesn’t matter what genre it is, I will always find a reason to hate myself for it.

Doo-Wop? -> You don’t listen to real doo-wop, and even if you can find some real doo-wop you like, they’ll never make it the same way again. Modern artists just want to make it too pop-y and shove in way too much sex and bragging about them being 400x better than you will ever be.

Rock? -> Nobody your age likes rock. If they do like rock, then they’ll think you’re too mainstream because you listen to basic shit like Aerosmith, AC/DC and Queen.

2000s nostalgia pop? -> Look at how much time has passed. You’ll never get back those good times ever again. You’ve had years to get your shit together. And yet nothing.

Pop -> God you’re fucking basic and boring.

80s -> What are you? A millennial? You really do have a music taste just like your fucking mom you fucking dweeb.

New Wave -> You’re so fucking stupid you didn’t even know what counts as New wave, go die you stupid fuckhead.

Rap -> You make this music uncool. Who wants to listen to rap that a fucking nineteen year old white girl likes? Fucking poser.

Foreign languages -> You’re fucking stupid. Can’t even sing the fucking chorus. Go drown in piss stupid fuck.

Beach Boys -> Oooh aren’t you special? You can listen to one of the most popular surf rock bands of all time. Just cause you like more than ten songs doesn’t mean you’re an actual fan. Fucking hipster dumbass.

All-American Rejects -> Aren’t you diverse? Listening to the same fifteen songs that sound exactly the same over and over again? Whiny bitchy try-hard.

Country -> Your generation hates country. Keep showing off how much of a dumbass redneck you are to everyone. Keep lapping up all those formulaic songs listing the same shit over and over. Fucking dumbass stupid fucking hillbilly backwater future crackhead.

Musical songs -> Keep listening to all the most popular of the songs you basic bitch. Oh what’s that? Of course no one’s ever heard of that musical. Why would they? You have fucking no taste whatsoever.

Punk -> You’re already whiny and annoying. You don’t have real problems to sing about. Poser.

Female singer songs -> Wow. You’ll never be able to sing like them. Try as much as you want bitch. It’ll never happen. You’ll always sound monotone and boring.

Male singer songs -> You’re just a fucking simp for them. You’re borderline a fucking misogynist but you’ll never admit it.

Anime OPs EDs/Japanese music -> Fucking pathetic weeb. Like any girl would wanna have a serious relationship with a pervert like you. You can’t even admit to being a pervert. You’re just like every other fangirl but you try so hard not to be like them. Just fucking die.

But mainly anime music. I love it all so much, and I know my taste is shit but it makes me so happy. I hide it from everyone when I listen to it. I don’t ever let anyone see my phone when I play it. But I think I can chock that up to one negative experience I had.

I absolutely adore Osomatsu-San vocaloid covers, they’re probably the biggest part of my anime music playlist. So one day when I walked into school in the morning I was listening to a cover of Hibikase, this song in particular was my second favorite song of all. I was in a really good mood and I was so happy I was just absorbed in the music. I didn’t care what anyone saw me doing. I was actually purely happy. I sat down at the lunch table my friend and I always sat at before classes began. He wasn’t there so I was just smiling to myself with my hoodie up and earbuds in. This is fucking stupid but I will admit it’s probably one of my happiest highschool memories.

But of course, the world must always fuck me over to give me humility and show me how much of a fucking idiot I am. Our table was positioned closely to the desk where the teachers and staff would watch over the cafeteria in the morning to keep everyone in line. I don’t know what she was, but this high-up member of faculty (think like one rank below vice-principal) saw me smiling with earbuds in with my phone faced down on the table. Even then I didn’t like people seeing what music I listened to as multiple times before I was made fun of for my music choice. She walks up. Taps me on the shoulder and asks me if she could see what I was listening to. I can barely get out a “No, sorry-“ before she flips over my phone without my permission. As I said. This is an Osomatsu-San vocaloid cover. Nothing graphic or weird on the screen. Just my boys lined up on the screen, with their drawing being highlighted when they sang and being frayed out when not. Just what would look like a K-Pop or J-Pop animation to her. She flips it over and visibly cringes as I look up at her. She looks like she flipped over my phone and saw a gruesome LiveLeak video or some gross Deviantart inflation art. She continues to physically cringe as she says “Oh. Sorry. Let me just flip this back over.” She flips over my phone and runs out of the cafeteria.

Sure. She probably just have been embarrassed that she flipped it over against my permission or thought I was embarrassed so she cringed. But I know that is not what she did. She did not look like “Oh I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to flip it over- my bad!” Or “Oh, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, sweetie!” That look I will always remember. Her lips curled. Her brows scrunched up. She snapped her long acrylic nail away from the screen like she saw me watching pimple popping videos. She flipped it over fast as fuck like she was scared to even touch my phone.

This is dumb, but ever since then I have guarded my phone like it was my Baby. I would never let people borrow it unless it was to call their ride home. I hid it in my pocket at all times. I just… constantly hate imagining what everyone will say. If a sweet woman in her late 40s cringes that hard, then everyone else will fucking ridicule you until your funeral. This is actually the first time I’ve shared my music preferences in public online before. I hate reading through recommendations anywhere because it’s filled with people who have much more diverse and elegant music tastes. People who don’t just pick their music because they two fucking brain cells rattling around in their skull that just says “Music sound good! Play it!” My playlist is honestly just a pit of top billboard hits. Literally. It’s beyond basic and bland. I always imagine myself as a singer or musician but I always know I can never be them.

But I should probably get back on topic by now. So anyway- I have one and only one song that always comforts me. I’ll play it dozens of times over just because it perfectly fits.

Without You by Hinder.

Is it a dumb choice? Yes. Is it not unique? Yes. I don’t care. So many romance songs I always misconstrue into different meanings that weren’t intended or I just can’t listen to them because it just becomes an anthem for any guy/gal I imagine will cheat on me. Which I imagine is all of them. Why would you choose me when there’s billions of better people? I feel like I would just end up being in a relationship because they want stability or someone who is too pathetic and desperate to leave. But this song is different. It fits for everything. Anger, sadness, joy, it fits for every emotion I have towards a partner. Can’t find one? They hate you? You broke up? It fits. Want them back? Want to die because you don’t think you’ll find someone again? Begging for any connection at all to anyone? It fits. Glad you’re doing better now and wanna stick it to that bitch? It fits. Well the whole song is about how the guy didn’t think he would be able to live without his previous partner and how he’s slowly getting better. Reflecting on his toxic relationship.

This song to me is just one I can play while I’m wasting away in bed and just begging the universe to fade me out of existence. It fits when I’m alone. It fits when I’m so proud of myself for going on this long. The song really isn’t meant to be all of this together but it just has this pull to me. It just feels like one of those songs that wasn’t made for you but it’s perfect for you.

I imagine in the future it will end up how I see the song “Over You” by Daughtry, a good song that I still like but it’s kind of cringey because of how much I loved it and played it when I was younger stressing over how my first of many friends left me all alone. Little did I know that it would happen so many times that when I thought it happened the latest time, I just accepted it. Like “Yep. I know Damn well I’m just doomed to have every major friend group or best friend I ever meet betray me or treat me like shit or leave me at my lowest point and reveal their shitty intentions all along.” But luckily it didn’t.

So eventually I probably will move on to another song and think this one is dumb and I didn’t deserve to be sad because whatever pain I go through now will be fifty times worse in say five years but- for now I just want to pretend to be happy and sink into my “Comfort song”