#i'd let him scam me

[ryssbelle]

trying to be more active starting by tryna post all the stuff I've been neglecting to ;w; Heres a doodle I did for @sparkspsps of @heroesspirit Ravio!! I've done a lot of heroes spirit art so expect to see a lot of it, its a very good comic so yall better get your eyes on it and your hands reblogging!!

[solacestarz]

TO THE PEOPLE WHO DRAW SEBASTIAN WITH FACIAL HAIR

GIVE ME YOUR ART

LET ME EAT IT AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSSSSS

[medicinemane]

There's honestly... just so many people, just so so so so so many people in this world where I'm like... aren't you people tired of this fucking... you know, I was going to call them clowns but that's really disrespectful to clowns, these people could never get their face on an egg...

Anyway, aren't you tired of this childish jackass? Don't you just want to ignore them and never have to hear about them again? If we just ignored them they legitimately would go away... don't you want that?

And this applies to... just ungodly amounts of people, from jake paul to even elon musk (just... don't touch his shit, he'll run out of money eventually with how bad he is with it), to just... name an annoying famous person and you'll name someone I've literally forgotten right now that I could never have to hear about again if people would just ignore them (unless they committed crimes, investigators are welcome to pay attention while gathering a case)

Yet the answer's always "no, we're paying so much attention to them!" and I'm just like... why? Why would you watch jake paul box? I heard about that and was like "he's still doing that shit?", and yet I guess it made a lot of money yet again and it's just like... ignore him

These people could go away, and yet

[muntitled]

Indebted

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: He wouldn't call it jealousy... He just wasn't very fond of sharing his toys.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Jealousy Language, Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Caning, Forced Orgasm, Controlled Orgasm, Dumbification, Impact Play, Blood Play, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Rough Sex, Blood Play, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Overstimulation

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

4k words

"Seriously, if it weren't for your help, I'd probably fail this module-" you meet him at the door, your Salesman, who's come to play one of his games. He arrives just as you're ushering someone else out.

"It's honestly my pleasure," you say, "You've made me feel useful."

As you speak, you open your front door to reveal your Salesman standing on the opposite end of the threshold.

You hadn't been smiling, not until you saw him standing there in a crisp, well-fitted navy blue suit. He's not looking at you. Not immediately. His eyes are trained on the boy you're standing beside. The one who's slipping on his sneakers, still murmuring about how incredibly grateful he is for your tutoring.

'It's nothing,' you replied modestly, even though it was most definitely not nothing to dedicate your entire Wednesday afternoon to tutoring. The boy is a first year and budding with the need to get better in psychology. His essay would have been flawless, had it not been for the grammatical and spelling errors that plagued the page. You'd both sat for the majority of this Wednesday afternoon hacking through the issues and improving on his spelling. It was endearing. To be in university and still need a spelling tutor.

"Thanks so much for the help." The boy tries to maneuver his lanky frame past your Salesman who takes up the majority of the space by your little doorway.

"See you next week." He shoots you a small smile before giving an uneasy glance to your Salesman.

"Hello." Says the Salesman, so painfully formal it causes a wave of unease to swell. He peers down at the boy like a tiny little thing.

"H-Hey." Your student replies before thanking you once more.

When he leaves and it's just you and the man you're paid to please every Wednesday evening, an uneasy sort of silence settles between you both.

You're smiling up at him.

And he's smiling down at you but it's different somehow. Tighter. Not a genuine smile at all.

Although admittedly, none of his smiles were genuine. His entire face was a carefully orchestrated scam, to get any suspecting victim to trust him.

And yet somehow, this smile feels more phoney.

Like a tempest is brewing beneath.

Before you're able to dissect it further, he's already stepping closer, letting his large, elongated shadow fall on you. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"The last time you came to my house, you killed someone." You lean against the door, your hip leaning against the wood as you fold your arms over your chest. His eyes zero in on the movement and a rare occasion occurs: You feel powerful. That's the last thing you've ever been made to feel in his presence.

"It took a week to get the smell of blood and death out of my room." You continue.

He lifts his hands in front of you, showing the briefcase that hangs from his heavy fingers and the blisters coating his palms. Like a magician convincing you his hands were clean, "I come in peace." That deep and gravelly vibrato veneering his voice causes a tantalizing hum to run all the way down your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. You step aside, staring blankly ahead of you as he steps into your house, bombarding everything with his presence.

From his brisk walk alone, trudging into your apartment like he owns the palace (which he regrettably does) you almost immediately realize that something is wrong. You are not under the impression that you've done anything to make him angry but unease still rolls in your stomach like a tempest that's brewing. When you make it into your adjoining living that bleeds into the kitchen, you find him standing in the kitchen. He lowers his briefcase onto the counter before resting both his heavy hands there.

You move to the other side of the counter, leaning down- giving him a more than perfect view of the cleavage spilling from your dress. You hope it might appease him as you try to wrack your mind for possibile slip-ups that would've caused this terrible silence.

This little-to-no-conversation between you both makes your dynamic feel like the transaction that it actually is: a girl, who needs her university fees paid and a sadist who wants his needs met. Feelings weren't in the equation and yet, your heart stops when he asks,

"How was school?"

"School was school." You reply, sounding pathetically excited to finally hear his voice since the moment he entered your little home.

"Although," you peer down at your jittery fingers on the counter. Your nerves are shot to hell as you admit, "I don't know how proactive I'm going to be tonight-”

He was a ruthless dominant, never failing to leave you absolutely spent by the end of the night. It left you with great discomfort to not be able to perform to the greatest of your abilities during these sessions. “I'm so tired... I've got this psychology quiz and-"

"Who was that?" His questions cut through yours like the tip of a hot knife.

“Who was who?” You ask.

He only smiles before turning his back to you, frantically pulling open cupboards as he says, “Rice. Where's the rice? Do you have rice?”

“The cupboard in the bottom row- Who are you referring to?”

He pulls out your tall container of rice and you watch him round the counter with it in his hands. “This place is so fucking small.” He says, popping the lid of the container, “Reminds me of my childhood home.” He stands right in the only open space in your apartment and all you do is watch as he tips the container over, watching millions of rice grains scatter to the bare floor.

“THAT'S MY FOOD, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-”

His voice is like molten lava when he looks down at you and points toward the ground. “Kneel.”

You feel nothing but cold air slide across your exposed arms when he trudges back to your little kitchen. Your mind reels and your stomach sinks and sinks and sinks- burning a hole through the rest of your organs.

“Am I being punished for something?”

“Be a good girl and kneel on the rice.” He says and because you were nothing but a slave to the dominance in his voice, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. From behind the kitchen counter he watches your face contort into unmistakable pain as the rice grains dig into your knees. He takes a while but soon you're fully kneeling on the floor. He rounds the counter once again until he's standing before you.

“That… child that was just here,” his voice is eerily calm as he caresses your cheek, “Who was that?”

Had you been in any other situation, under vastly different circumstances, you might have looked for the urge to laugh. His blatant jealousy of some university first-year was nothing if not laughable.

“He's just a friend from class- ah.” It almost becomes unbearable but for the sake of your self preservation, you know not to get up.

He continues to caress you, loosening his tie as he asks. “Which class?”

“P-Pardon?”

“You mean to tell me you only go to one class?” He snaps and you fight off tears, “What the fuck am I paying for?”

“You're paying for me to get my psychology degree.” You reply with feeble words, trying to put away the thought of all the little stabbings plaguing your knees.

“And does that entail sleeping with your classmates?”

“What?!” You screech as he walks away. You're suddenly left without nothing to hold onto and you sway forward, your palms landing on more rice.

“Y-You know I don't do that.” You cry, feeling the sting more from the accusation than the pain of all this bloody rice, “Y-You know I don't sleep around- You know I don't talk to anyone-”

You hear his briefcase click open. From your vantage point on the lowly rice-filled floor, you cannot see what he's taking out. It fills you with more dread than you've ever experienced before. Which was utterly ridiculous.

With him, dread is a thing you ought to be accustomed to. Dread is where you live now. You ought to get comfortable with it.

“Such a shame.” He tsks as he finally rounds the corner to reveal whatever it is he's gone to go fetch. His dress shoes clack against your recently varnished floor and you breathe heavily. The pain had subsided- or perhaps you've gotten used to it- which scares you more than anything. He's messing with your pain threshold. Causing you to build a tolerance for certain things and that terrifies you.

Hidden under all that terror was unmistakable lust.

God help you.

“I thought we were making progress, you and I.” you see the cane first. Made of rattan, it hangs from his strong hand corded with tense veins. A gleaming watch is secured around his wrist and you're already shaking your head as you slowly look up at him. Now the tears are right by the doorway. No matter how much pain he forces you to get accustomed to you could never survive this. Your body still has limits.

“He just asked me to help him with his spelling- Please!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Spelling, you say?” he pats down on your head, eliciting a dizzying wave of subordination as he says, “I think you've just given us our game for tonight, Doll.” He bends down, knees bending until he's somewhat closer to your height. He's still far too big for you. Far too much. You try to crawl backwards, you try to crawl away but he grabs you by your face. You're quite literally being expertly manhandled as he turns you around until you're on your knees in the opposite direction.

“Please…” You're begging but you don't know what for. Once his games were set in motion, nothing could stop him.

Your movements still when you fill him lower his large hand onto your backside. It's so big and warm and you momentarily forget about the rice digging into your skin. He slowly lifts up the skirt of your dress, revealing your underwear beneath.

“Our little Spelling Bee,” he lowers your panties down your thighs, causing a shiver to wrack through your entire body. It's pointless to hide how affected you are by every little thing he does.

“For every word you spell right,” he lifts your leg for you, giving you momentary reprieve from the pain as he manoeuvres you out of the underwear, “You get to cum.”

You'd never felt more degraded: being forced onto doggy style onto a million grains of rice while this man lets his fingers graze over your exposed cunt. He parts your folds and a wave of embarrassment rolls over your face. It's all so normal to him though, just sticking his fingers inside your cunt. He does it with the professionalism of gynecology and all you're able to do is stare blankly ahead while he prods at you.

“We can't make things too easy, though, so you're gonna keep this little thing warm for me while we play,”

You're craning your neck back, trying to get a look. “What thi-”

You release one hoarse gasp when he inserts something round and bulbous and vibrating, straight into your cunt.

“Th-This isn't a game. It's a punishment.” You say through gritted teeth, trying to fight off a moan as the vibrator hums inside you, “I've only ever had sex with one person-”

You. That voice pipes up in the back of your head, feeble as you felt. You think back on the time you gave him your virginity. It had been a bloody affair.

The second his cock ruptured your hymen and the blood began to coat your thighs, it only made him ravage you more. You'd gone to bed crying that night, your tears soaking into your pillows. You were unable to get up and head to classes the next day. All that pain and yet you also felt so incredibly fulfilled. The pain was a godsend.

But this pain? It's angry.

He's angry and he's punishing you for it.

Silence follows your pleas.

“Are you done?” He asks and your shoulders slump as the tears begin to fall. The urge to grind down onto the vibrator coupled with the rice stabbing your knees puts you in an odd predicament. The inner workings of your body is being made a fool of and he's the root cause.

“I'm afraid you've gotten too comfortable with me-”

“Comfortable?” You scoff, whipping your head back to glare at the man watching you with calm eyes and raised eyebrows. “I could never feel comfortable around you.”

“And you've forgotten your place.” He smiles before standing to his full height, “Letting little boys over to your place-”

“We were studying-”

“I've gone soft on you as of late.” He lets his other hand drag across the length of the hard cane. “Shame on me. It's clearly deluded you into forgetting about our arrangement.”

He steps around you until he's once again standing in front of you. “You've forgotten your place as a thing.”

He grabs your face. “My thing.”

You do a very wrong thing then.

You moan.

It's soft and insecure and so dreadful but you moan

His eyes search yours. You can see the pleasure diluting them. Causing them to go as round as saucers.

He wants to lean into that sound you just made, but he's still furious with you and that sends you into a spiral.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay-”

“So you admit you're a slut?” He asks, inches the buttons of his blaze as he readies his assault. “You whore yourself out to that little boyfriend of yours.”

"Boyfriend?” It's laughable. “Me?”

“Are you condescending me?” He asks darkly and you screech in frustration.

“You know I don't talk to anyone- Why are you so angry with me!?”

“You haven't seen angry, Little girl.” His face is calm. Dangerously so. “You haven't fucking seen angry.”

A shiver wracks through your body as you look up at his cold dead eyes.

“Fine.”

Whatever it takes.

“I am a slut-” you really weren't and the words barely register as truth but you're scrambling as he steps away from you. His hands folded in front of him and he appears oh so in control as he says, “Your first word is Gorgeous.”

You breathe out as you try to refocus enough to successfully spell the word.

“G-Oh.. fuck.” Your cunt spasms around the device and your eyes roll back. You're rocking backwards and forwards, frantically searching for friction that just isn't there. He loves the show you put on for him, writhing on the floor like a puppy in heat. He barely contains his glee as he raises his hand and says, “Wrong.”

“W-What!?” you blink, trying to shake away your pleasure-filled daze, “N-no that wasn't my final-”

“G-o-r-g-e-ou-s,” he says smugly as he moves until he's behind you. Your body tenses and the world shatters when he darkly repeats, “Wrong.”

The cane cracks through the air before it ever lands on your backside. The word ‘sting’ doesn't begin to cover the utter agony that blossoms across your asscheeks. All you know for all those seconds is white hot pain. Everything is at attention, and your body vitaly tries to urge you to take care of the inflicted wound but you can't.

“Sane.” He's breathing heavily as he walks over to stand in front of you. He's getting riled up, a strand of black hair falls in front of his almond eyes. His shoulders rise and fall and rise and fall. Seeing you get caned once does unspeakable things to his resolve. “Your next word is sane.”

Too easy.

"W-Which one?" You blink through the pain, trying to will the tears away. The second you slipped into self pity, it'd be over for you. "S-Sane is a homophone.” You say thickly. The pain. The pain. The pain. “There's Sane,” you glare up at him through wet lashes, “Which you very much aren't-" that amuses him greatly. You're regrettably far too happy to hear the dark chuckle. “Then there's Seine, like the fishing variety-”

He places his hand on your head. “Clever girl. I thought you didn't have a dad.”

“I don't,” you hiccup, “I just like fish. Men aren't the only fishers in the fucking world.”

“Smart mouth.” He pulls away again until he's standing at his full posture. “You use it like that with the boy from Psyche?”

Your shoulders slump and you don't care about the desperation in your voice as you reaffirm, “I'm telling you I haven't done anything-”

“Seine as in the fishing practice. Spell it.”

“S-E-I-N-E” your eyes are squeezed shut as you take a strike from a whip that never comes. Your eyes that had once been squeezed shut, slowly flit open and you're amazed to see his grinning face right in front of you. Every wrinkle running like tributaries around his eyes. The smile lines. He's so handsome it's devastating.

“Correct.” He says. “You're allowed to cum. Congratulations.” Just those few words have your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you begin to rock back and forth. You lean into the pleasure like a warm and fluffy blanket during aftercare. It's a godsend and it has you moaning and whining into the air.

“Let me give you a hand,” he says, before stopping to deliver that signature, “My little winner.” He brings you in close, your hands cling onto his forearm while the other reaches behind you. He delivers a kiss to your forehead as his fingers find your puffy clit.

“I'm gonna-”

“Cum for me my Clever girl. Cum for me before I change my mind,” There is nothing but him. He consumes you as you fervently hump against his hand on all fours like the animal he reduced you to. Your hips move on their own accord and in his eyes, you can see his own pleasure mounting. Its in the gravel in his voice when he clears his throat and says, “Thank me for letting you cum.” your orgasm crashes down on you and it's ferocious. It's vicious. It's guttural. The rice underneath you still serves as a reminder of your punishment and that somehow has you coming harder.

“Thank you for letting me cum Sir,”

his eyes flutter shut and his chest expands as he basks in your servitude. He breathes it in, letting it settle in his bones, making him feel as important as he needs to.

“N-No more, please,” you whisper once the orgasm passes. He doesn't switch off the vibrator and soon the pleasure bleeds into a painful discomfort. the aftershocks rattle through your body as you drift into overstimulation, “Please-Done-” you became horribly useless with your words when he had you like this, and he watches you so intently as if not only turned on by your torture but so completely intrugued by it. You intrigued him.

“Stop-” You begin but he chuckles as he moves away from you. He straightens his suit and readies the cane, “Why? You’re not even bleeding yet.” He says, “Suck it up.”

“Oh my god, I need to come again,” it rolls through you quite literally out of nowhere and you gasp as you try to keep it at bay. Cumming without having won a round was a breach in the rules of the game and you didn't wanna do that.

“Well then, I guess you better spell the next word for me.” he says with a smile.

You swallow thickly. Your previous win elicits a tiny sliver of confidence and spelling is something you excel in so you steel your nerves. You breath in deeply and stare blankly ahead.

“Honorificabilitudinitatibus.”

You immediately look up at him.

“Latin words arent-” another aftershock rams through you. You're so close to cumming completely hands-free. “L-Latin words aren't allowed.”

Nothing but a dark chuckle escaped him at your expense. “I had no idea you were making the rules.” He says sarcastically. “Had no idea the cane's in your hand.” That draws your gaze to the cane, leaning in his palm.

Point made.

He could throw in whatever wild-card word he wanted because he held the cane.

“H-o-n-o-r-” you make the mistake of looking up at him then. He's gazing down at you with his head tilted slightly to the right. His cane behind his back as he leans down slightly.

“No cumming,” he tsks, shaking his head. “Disqualified.”

“B-But I didn't-” even as you say those words, you feel it. The lightning zipping through you like a phantom. A ditzy sort of smile flashes across your face as you succumb to the pleasure being forced out of you. “F-Fuck-” its so painful and so fucking good you're seeing stars. He runs a hand through his messy hair and the cane comes down on your backside. This time it draws blood.

“I'm a rusty old man, glad to see I've still got a firm grip,”

“P-Please-” You're still caught in the world of unicorns and rainbows. Your orgasm is center stage, in spite of all the pain. You didn't even know your body could cum for this long. You didn't think it was possible but here you are, riding wave after wave of pleasure induced by a vibrator in your cunt while he canes you almost mindlessly.

He transcended every realm of physical possibilities.

He's breathing heavily now as the cane falls to the floor. The end is bloody. You stare down at the floor while he moves behind you.

“Don't forget, this is a transaction,” Behind you he kneels behind you, his fingers graze your backside, “This is about you avoiding student debt for the rest of your miserable life. A life you'll probably spend married to some depressed drunk who beats you and doesn't even let you cum.” A hand pulls you back by your hair until you're seated on your haunches. Skin had broken.

Your blood drips down your backside like a marble statue in the rain. There were marks. Scars.

“You're indebted to me.” He says behind you. “Say it.”

“I'm indebted to you.”

“Thank me for hitting you, Doll.” His hands drift over your body. The softest touch after these moments of brutality.

Th-" You struggle to catch your breath as he digs his fingers in your cunt, finally freeing you of the vibrator that rattles to the floor, “Thank you… for hitting me.”

He hums into your hair, smelling you, feeling you. “You're welcome, my little winner,”

You hear the sound of his zipper, and frantic movements behind you. You're utterly spent. You'd let him do anything he wanted. Anything at all.

“You look so pretty, Baby. Look at you,” his fingers swipes down the arch of your back. He brings his hand around to show you the crimson dropping from his index. Almost automatically as if the two of you were in communication far beyond that of human understanding, he brings your finger forward the same time you dip your head lower and roll your tongue out. Until the taste of your own blood drawn from all his sadistic torture is wiped along your tongue.

He groans. “I wanna jerk off with your blood.” He admits, “Fuck-”

You gasp, beginning to rock on haunches as if you could still feel that vibrator inside you, “Please- don't say stuff like that-”

This was bad enough.

You were bad enough.

He's already corrupted you to a point where you didn't even recognize yourself.

Where is the quiet, shy girl you had been? She's drowning under all the blood he'd spilled to make himself cum. She's buried under all the pain, all the turmoil and all the damn torture.

You don't miss her

"Pl-lease fuck me, I need it." Your voice is hoarse and you realize you're making demands but still you peer at him over your shoulders. Your tired eyes plead with him.

“I never ever ask you for anything. I've let you control everything.”

While you speak, your voice deep and hoarse, his hand is already moving over his erection. He bends you forward, until you're in doggy style again. Fabric rustles. Your limbs are trembling.

“For once, just grant me th-” the words are barely out your mouth before he's shoving his cock all the way inside you.

“O-Oh God!” Your eyes squeeze shut as he fucks you on the floor like a rabid animal. You try to crane your head back, to watch him ravage you.

His hair is a mess, his tie completely undone. He's everything he tries to hide from the rest of the world. Nothing but an untamed beast.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight-” he says, resting his hands on bloody ass. He guides your movements, pulling you roughly down on his cock until you're screaming into the open air. You're both like animals. You've both regressed to the very basis of your instincts.

“I need to see your blood on my cock,” He's already pulling out of you. The sound reverberates with finality all around the apartment and you cry. It's all you're able to do as you crane your head back to watch him stroke his cock with a bloodied fist.

“Are you ready to cum for me again, baby?”

Your lips are quivering as you rock backwards urging his cock in, “L-Like you won't believe,”

“Then cum for me, Princess.” He says, sliding his cock back inside your overstimulated cunt. Your orgasm is instant and swift and it rocks through you, tightening your cunt around his cock like a vice. His movements grow more frantic as he fucks you through it, keeping a firm grip on your ass.

Your mouth falls open when you realize he's fucking his own cum and your blood back into you and its all too much. He throws his head back when he cums, letting his hips stutter against your ass and the world spins.

“You're s-such a fucking slut,” he laughs manically. You've quite literally given yourself to a sadistic monster and the post nut clarity is vicious.

“I want to take you out,” he says, way softer than he had been a minute ago.

Your body tenses. “Out? Where-”

“Dinner.” He says. “You deserve it… my little winner.”

If you knew anything about anything, you knew it wouldn't just be any ordinary dinner.

But who were you to refuse?

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[chainmail-butch]

Year 3

I stand in a dojo with 5 men. I'd forgotten to shave this morning. Sweat is dripping down from my face to the floor. The instructor, a man I have been working with for 3 years, gestures me forward.

"This!" He says, "Is how you break a man's fingers!" I know this move, and grab his wrist to begin the demonstration. I do not correct him.

"You first establish the bridge by seizing his wrist!" I do not correct him. "You rotate his fingers-"

"She." I interrupt.

The lesson stops cold.

"Of course, Comrade." He says kindly, "My apologies."

"You rotate the comrade's fingers-"

-

I am drunk in a gay bar. It's two in the morning and a beautiful woman has seized me on the dance floor. Behind me, the DJ cheers as her tongue enters my mouth.

Her hands are ravenous. They seek every inch of me as she presses me backward into a wall.

She freezes when her hand squeezes my cock.

Her body is rigid. Her tongue is flaccid in my mouth. She pulls away ashamed and apologetic. She stumbles a few words as the house lights come up and the DJ announces the last call.

-

I am on the phone with a scammer. I have not yet realized its a scam.

"And can I speak to Sophia?" He asks politely.

"I am Sophia, I know that my voice is confusing I-" He does not let me finish.

"Oh!" He says. "That's cool. That's so so cool. I'm cool with that. I'm so cool with that." Something tells me he's lying to me. But, anyway, if I'm ready to send him a deposit I can lock in a wonderful house at well below market rate.

-

I am outside the bar again. Savoring a rare cigarette as I lean against a railing. It's too hot for me to wear my leather inside.

A beautiful man weaves into my vision. His abs glisten with sweat beneath his crop top. His lips are full and red.

"Aren't you just so butch!" He purrs. His hand has found its way onto my arm and he's close enough for me to smell the alcohol on his breath. He and his boyfriend had just broken up and I looked awfully yummy. He knows a quiet little alley down the street if I feel like giving him a taste.

"I'm a dyke" I rumble, voice full of gravel and cigarette smoke.

-

I'm out on the streets, safe behind my sunglasses. My boots make a satisfying thunk and my carabiner jingles reassuringly with every step I take.

"The encampment is just over there!" I call. Under my direction a swarm of volunteers shifts into motion.

As lines of boxes and bottles pass me, one of the security detail steps up and says, "Holy hell, man! You look scary as fuck!"

"Yeah."

I grunt as I hoist a case of bottled water onto my shoulder.

"I know."

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

Hey! Can you do a Kylian imagine with a heavily pregnant reader who is having a hard time with her pregnancy. Just lots of fluff & supportive Kylian please

Baby Blues

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Your husband loves taking care of you, especially now that you're pregnant

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Husband!Kylian Mbappé x Wife!you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 3.5k

Warnings! Fluff, soft Kylian, tough pregnancy, eating problems, insecurities, sad reader, Kylian being the best husband ever.

Pregnancy was a scam.

A total scam. There were so many things that were a surprise to you once you actually were pregnant, but one of the biggest surprises to me was just how hard it was on your body. It wasn't like you didn't think it would be hard. But this was hell.

Kylian and you had been trying for a year, and when you finally got the positive pregnancy test, you thought everything would be okay. You thought it would be a normal pregnancy and then you'd be able to hold your little baby in your arms.

But it was just too hard.

The morning sickness had been terrible. It didn't just stay in the mornings, and you'd been puking so much that you'd lost weight instead of gaining it. Something which which had your doctors and Kylian worried.

It'd gotten to the point where you couldn't even eat any more. The smell of food would make you sick. It made you sick just to think about it. You'd tried to hide it from Kylian at first. You didn't want to worry him, and you knew he was already worrying.

He'd always worried about you. He'd worried about you since the moment he met you, and he was going to continue to worry about you for the rest of his life.

It was sweet. It really was.

But sometimes, you just wished he'd stop worrying. Worrying so much was making him tired, and you knew he was going to be a father soon. He needed to get some sleep. So did you. You sighed and sat up in bed, looking around the dark room. The sun had barely risen. You could hear Kylian's snores coming from the other side of the bed. It made you smile.

You threw off the covers and stood up, heading to the bathroom. You weren't sure what time it was, but you were hoping it was close to breakfast time. Your stomach growled at the thought of food. You hoped that you could keep something down today.

Maybe some toast.

You opened the bathroom door and stepped inside, flipping on the light. The bathroom was large, and the shower was huge. There were multiple heads, so you could be pummeled with water from all angles. It was heavenly, sometimes being to keep your morning sickness at bay. The pressure feeling so good on your skin.

You flipped on the light and looked in the mirror. The girl looking back at you looked terrible. She was pale and thin and tired. You could the insecurities licking up your spine. How could he still love you when you looked like this.

You sighed and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water flow down your body. You moaned at the pressure of the jets your skin, and your eyes closed. You tried to ignore the thoughts racing through your head, but you just couldn't.

Why was he still with you? You were nothing like the girl he met. You were thin and tired and just plain ugly.

You tried to shake the thoughts away as you washed yourself off. When you were done, you stepped out and wrapped yourself in a towel. You brushed your teeth, making sure your breath smelled good and not like puke.

When you were done, you left the bathroom and headed to the bedroom. You pulled out a pair of shorts and Kylian's sweatshirt. You slipped them on and walked back to the kitchen.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw what was set up in the kitchen. There were flowers all over the table, and breakfast was made. Kylian was sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee. He looked up when he saw you.

When did he wake up? Why hadn't you heard him? And why did he look better than you did.

"Hey," he smiled at you. "I thought I'd make you breakfast. I didn't know what you were craving, so I made pancakes and eggs." He stood up and pulled out a chair for you. "I hope it's okay."

tears welled up in your waterline at his gesture. Fuck thses hormones. But you couldn't help it. Not when he was such a good husband, so good to you. He deserved better. He deserved the girl he fell in love with.

"It's perfect," your voice was shaky, so you masked it with a smile. "Thank you, babe."

He walked over to you, pulling you into a hug, his warmth melting you. "I'm glad you like it," he kissed the top of your head. "I missed you so much yesterday. I'm sorry I wasn't here for dinner." He pulled back and studied your face. "Are you okay? You were in the bathroom pretty long. Got me worried, pretty girl." Pretty girl. Yeah right. More like fat whale. You wanted to cry.

You nodded, letting him pull you down into a chair. "I'm good," you lied, forcing a smile. "I was just so tired last night. I didn't want to wake you up."

He nodded and kissed the top of your head again. He went back to the kitchen and brought you a plate of pancakes and eggs, along with a cup of tea. You smiled up at him and dug in. It was good. Really good.

He was a good cook. But you didn't want to eat much. You were terrified of getting sick in front of him. He'd been so stressed lately, and you didn't want him to worry more about you.

You took a few bites and then put the fork down, pushing your plate away. "Thank you," you said. "It was really good."

His eyes narrowed, studying your face. You knew you were lying. But you were good at it. Or at least, you thought you were.

He leaned over and grabbed your hands into his. He made sure he was eye level with you, his eyes searching yours. You met them and held his gaze. "Tell me the truth," he said.

"I don't want to eat," you said, your voice low. You hated lying to him. You always felt terrible after doing it. But he didn't need to know about how bad it was. He was stressed enough.

His face softened, and his hands squeezed yours. "Pretty girl, why won't you tell me?" His voice was soft and sweet. He really was such a good husband.

You shrugged your shoulders. You couldn't look at him. If you did, you knew you'd cry. "I just don't want to eat," you mumbled.

He sighed and leaned forward, grabbing your face into his hands. He made sure you looked at him before speaking. "You are my wife," he said, voice low and husky. "My wife, the mother of my child, and my best friend. I love you, and I'm so proud of you. But I can't be there for you if you don't tell me the truth. I need to know what's going on with you. I need to take care of you."

You wanted to cry at his words, at his softness. How could he love you so much when you were such a mess?

"I don't want to worry you," you said, your voice breaking. "You're already so stressed."

His eyes softened, and he pulled you into his arms. You went willingly, letting his warmth melt you. His arms were your happy place, and you knew you'd always be safe with him. He kissed the top of your head and held you close, stroking your hair. You breathed in his scent. It made you feel at peace.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice low. "I love you so much. You don't have to worry about me. I need to take care of you."

You sighed and nodded against him. "I'm sorry," you said. "I just can't eat right now. The smell of food makes me sick. I haven't eaten in days."

He held you closer, his arms tightening around you. He kissed the top of your head again and sighed. "I'm going to call a doctor," he said. "We'll figure this out, okay?"

You nodded against him and smiled. "Okay."

He pulled away and stood up, helping you stand. "Let's go back to bed," he said. "I'll call the doctor from there."

You nodded, letting him lead you back to the bedroom. You climbed into bed and watched him pick up the phone. He dialed a number and pressed send, holding the phone to his ear. You could hear the ringing of the other line.

He looked at you as he talked, his eyes soft. You could see the worry in them, but it only made you love him more. He was always so worried about you. You wanted to make it better, to make him not worry.

He hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bed. He sat next to you and took your hand into his. "I called the doctor," he said. "He said to bring you in to see him. I'm going to call his office now and tomorrow we're going, okay?."

You nodded and squeezed his hand. "I love you," you said, your voice low. He squeezed your hand back and leaned forward to kiss your lips. His lips were warm and gentle against yours. You sighed into his mouth and let him take control.

He kissed you deeper, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You moaned as he pulled away. You wanted more. But he just smiled and stood up, his phone in hand.

"I love you," he said. "I'll be right back."

You nodded and snuggled under the covers, closing your eyes. You knew you weren't going to fall asleep. Not with all the thoughts swirling through your head. You sighed and turned over, trying to clear your mind. You couldn't. Not when you kept thinking about how he'd said he was so proud of you.

It made you want to cry. He loved you. He truly, truly loved you. He was proud of you. You felt like you were anything but strong. But he still loved you. He still thought you were strong. That made you smile.

You sighed and rolled over, closing your eyes. You let your thoughts run away with you as you drifted off to sleep.

You woke up to Kylian shaking your shoulder. He had a smile on his face and looked so happy. You smiled up at him and sat up (with great difficulty), rubbing your eyes. "hi, beautiful," he said. "Get up the masseuse will be here soon."

You blinked up at him. What was he talking about? Who was the masseuse? He chuckled and ran a hand through your hair. "I thought it would be nice to have a spa day at home," he said. "I got you some scented oils and candles, and I hired a massage therapist. I thought it would help you relax." He smiled at you, his eyes soft. "Plus, I thought it would be nice to spend the day together. We can talk more about everything that's going on."

You wanted to cry at his words, at his sweetness. He was such a good husband, and you loved him so much. He always wanted to take care of you, and he wanted to be there for you.

"Okay," you whispered, voice raspy with sleep. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it. His eyes softened, and he kissed your lips. "Come on, babe," he said. "Let's get ready."

He stood and pulled you up with him. You wobbled on your feet, and he chuckled, his hands going to your hips. "Easy," he said. "I've got you." He held you close until you could stand on your own. Then, he let you go, only to grab your hand again. He led you out of the room, to the living room. You stopped in your tracks when you saw what was set up.

He had candles lit all around the room, and the scents of lavender filled your nose. There were towels and oils set up on a table, and the windows were open so there was a nice breeze. It was warm but not too hot.

"This is amazing," you said, smiling at him. He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. "I'm glad you like it," he said. "I wanted it to be perfect for you." He ran his hand down your back. "Now sit here and don't move." He instructed, as he helped you sit on the couch. A task that was now getting more and more difficult for you as your pregnancy moved along.

You nodded and sat down, watching him leave. You could hear him talking to someone on the phone, Then a few minutes later you heard the front door open.

"Hey," you heard him say. "Thanks for coming. She's on the couch. You can go ahead and set up."

You heard the front door shut, and then footsteps coming closer. You turned your head to see a woman coming towards you with him. She was gorgeous, with long brown hair and brown eyes. She was wearing a black top with what you guesse was her spa logo and black pants.

You hated the way your mind immediately went to wondering how you measured up to her. You felt like a fat whale, and she looked perfect. Kylian wouldn't be attracted to her, would he?

You sighed and forced your mind away from those thoughts. They were not healthy.

"Hey," Kylian said, walking over to you. "This is Ashley. She's the massage therapist I was telling you about."

You mustered a smile and smiled at her , trying to push aside your insecurities. Ashley returned the smile warmly, introducing herself and offering a handshake. Despite your initial self-doubt, you couldn't deny the genuine kindness in her eyes.

It made you feel horrible for the negative thoughts you had about her. You felt like a horrible person.

Ashley began setting up her equipment, chatting lightly with Kylian. You felt a pang at the smile he gave her. You knew you were being ridiculous. Kylian smiled at everyone. But in that moment you couldn't help but wonder if he wished he had a woman who was more like her.

"Y/N, baby are you okay? You spaced out." You blinked, bringing yourself back to the present. Kylian's voice was filled with concern, his eyes searching your face. You nodded quickly, trying to shake off the lingering doubts. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a bit tired," you mumbled, offering a small smile.

He returned your smile, though the worry in his eyes didn't dissipate. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, his lips warm and comforting. "Just relax, pretty girl. Ashley is here to help you feel better."

You took a deep breath and nodded again. Ashley finished setting up and approached you with a kind smile. "We're going to start with a gentle massage, okay? If anything feels uncomfortable, just let me know."

You appreciated her calm demeanor and found yourself relaxing slightly. You lay down on the soft towels she had prepared, and Ashley began her work. The scents of lavender and chamomile filled the air, mingling with the gentle pressure of her hands on your aching muscles.

For the first time in a while, you felt a semblance of peace. Kylian sat nearby, watching over you with a protective gaze. You loved this side of him. Loved when he watched over you like he would do anything to keep you safe. He would.

You knew a long time ago you had picked the right man to be the father of your children. But everyday he makes you a little prouder of that decision. You couldn't wait to meet your baby. To watch him interact with her.

You had already gotten glipmses of their bond. How she would kick at the sound of his voice. How he would talk to your belly, whispering sweet promises and silly jokes. You knew he would be an amazing father, just as he was an incredible husband.

As Ashley continued the massage, you felt some of the tension in your body ease away. The soothing touch and the warm oils worked their magic, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to simply be. To exist in the present, without the weight of worries and fears pressing down on you.

Kylian sat close, every now and then, he would reach out to gently stroke your hair or squeeze your hand, silently reassuring you that he was there, that he had you.

"You're doing great, Y/N," Ashley said softly, her voice blending seamlessly with the calming ambiance of the room. "Just breathe and let yourself relax."

You followed her instructions, taking slow, deep breaths. With each exhale, you felt more of the stress melt away. The soft music playing in the background, the fragrant candles, and the tender care of both Kylian and Ashley created a bubble of tranquility that you hadn't felt in a long time.

Time seemed to slow down as the massage continued. You could almost forget the relentless nausea, the fatigue. You could even feel yourself getting a little hungry.

When the massage finally ended, you felt a profound sense of relief. Ashley helped you sit up slowly, her hands gentle and supportive. "How do you feel?" she asked with a warm smile.

"Better," you admitted, surprised at how true the word felt. "Thank you, Ashley. This was exactly what I needed."

"I'm glad I could help," she replied. "Remember to take it easy and stay hydrated. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to reach out." She patted your shoulder one more time before getting up.

As Ashley packed up her things and left, Kylian was by your side in an instant, helping you stand and guiding you back to the couch. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "Do you feel better now, baby?" he asked softly, his eyes full of concern.

You nodded, resting your head against his chest. "Yes, much better," you whispered, feeling a sense of calm you hadn't experienced in weeks. "Thank you for this. It was perfect."

He smiled and kissed the top of your head. "You deserve it, Y/N. I just want to see you happy and healthy. And I know it's hard right now, but we're going to get through this together. Okay?"

You looked up at him, tears welling up in your eyes again, but this time, they were tears of gratitude and love. "Okay," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "I love you, Kylian. So much."

"I love you too," he replied, holding you even tighter. "Now, are you hungry?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you could handle eating. But the massage had genuinely helped, and you felt a glimmer of appetite returning. "A little," you admitted.

Kylian's face lit up with a hopeful smile. "Great! How about a cheese sandwhich? Nice and simple, just the way you like it."

You nodded, feeling a bit more confident. "Sounds good."

He kissed your forehead and stood up, heading to the kitchen. You watched him move with a grace that seemed effortless, and it warmed your heart. The man you loved was doing everything he could to make this easier for you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude.

As you waited, you let yourself relax further into the couch, savoring the lingering sense of tranquility from the massage. The lavender scent still hung in the air, and you breathed it in deeply, feeling more at peace than you had in days.

Kylian returned shortly with the cheese sandwhich and a small cup of tea. He set it down on the coffee table in front of you and handed you a piece of the sandwhich. "Here you go, trésor."

You took the bread and nibbled on it cautiously. To your relief, the plain taste of cheese and bread was gentle on your stomach, and you managed a few more bites without feeling nauseous. Kylian watched you with a mixture of hope and concern, his eyes never leaving your face.

"This is good," you said softly, giving him a small smile. "Thank you."

He smiled back, the relief evident in his eyes. "I'm glad. You need to eat, even if it's just a little bit at a time."

You finished the toast and sipped on the tea, feeling a little more like yourself. The warmth of the tea spread through your body, soothing you from the inside out. You leaned back against the couch, feeling content in this small moment of normalcy.

Kylian sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. You snuggled into his side, feeling his steady heartbeat against your cheek. It was a simple comfort, but it meant the world to you.

"Thank you for everything," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He kissed the top of your head and held you tighter. "You don't have to thank me, Y/N. I'm just doing what I promised. To love you and take care of you, no matter what."

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you. Despite the challenges, despite the sickness and the doubts, you knew you were in this together. And in that moment, wrapped in his embrace, you felt peace beyond comprihension.

The road ahead might be tough, but with Kylian by your side, you knew you could face anything.

-Bianca🌻

[kneesofpoultry]

So, ages ago, I saw (as I'm sure a lot of us did) THIS post about the Middle Eastern, men-only cover of The Sims 2. I kind of thought it was a hoax, mostly due to the crazy high price tag and the fact that I'd genuinely never heard of it before. But a couple of replies on that original post had owned that copy or seen it before.

Anyway, a few weeks ago I'm searching through ebay for the thick Sims 2 expansion pack cases when I find a listing from the UK for around $70AUD, with three expansion packs and, the best part, a version of The Sims 2 base game with the all male cover! I'm happy to say it wasn't a scam and it arrived today, photos below.

More photos and comparisons under the cut:

Left is the all-men cover(a 2009 copy according to the box), right is an Australian version (2006). I think my favourite part about this difference is how the guy in a brown shirt on the very left is the same in both copies, he just doesn't have the woman with him anymore.

(When I say "Australian Copy", I mean sold in Australia. I'm about 90% sure most copies of the sims 2 have either this cover, or the later produced cover with additional sims, such as an alien and a man in black, on it)

The back of the cases, left being the all-men cover, right being the Australian 2006 copy. There are more differences here, notably almost all of the women are gone except for the scientist lady in the top right. The sim in Create-A-Sim is a man on the Middle Eastern copy, the children in the top left are different. The poolside hang out on the 2006 copy had women in bikinis in it, but the Middle Eastern copy instead has a photo of men reacting to a kitchen fire. The women in the centre are gone (once again leaving brown-shirt guy maidenless) and replaced with a butler, a feature that isn't even present in the sims 2 base game. Both the image of the villa and the Grim Reaper have been removed from the Middle Eastern copy.

Inside of both cases. Interestingly, the Middle Eastern copy (bottom) has women on the disc, but the top 2006 copy is just a plain blue disc. I haven't read the manuals to compare them extensively but both seem to have the same information, just in a slightly different order. The Middle Eastern manual is thicker as it has both an English section and an Arabic section.

I won't be able to install this base version onto my pc due to catchment, but if you did play this version please let me know if there were any differences! Thank you for reading along with me, I hope you found this as interesting as I did.

[chrissv4mp]

WHY AREN'T YOU HOME?

NAVIGATION — SERIES MASTERLIST

● — The cool air of the night hit you just perfectly, the heat from the party you had just stepped away from almost completely gone now. You don't even know why you agreed to attend this party. It was just some stupid event for people with over 1M followers on Instagram. Your friends were the ones who convinced you, and you really wish they hadn't.

Your manager said it was good for you as well, and what else were you supposed to say? You weren't really the best at saying no to people, either. So, you had no choice other than to come.

As you sit down on the side of the sidewalk, you rest your chin on your palm, staring out into the empty backlot of the building, eyes darting all across the parking lot until all you can see is darkness. Your phone buzzes repeatedly in your other hand, signaling that a call was coming through, but you couldn't care less.

It was probably just more scam callers trying to sell you some fake product, but as you decline the call, you realize it's not the same number. Your phone buzzes again, "No Caller ID." Flashing at the top of your screen in bold letters. Who else would call you at 10 pm?

Your thumb presses down on the answer button, sliding it to the right and watching as the call duration begins to rise slowly. You move the phone up to your ear, lips parting to speak but not getting any words out before the person on the other line goes first, "Why aren't you home, Y/N?"

It almost feels like your heart stops once you hear those words. You take a deep breath, trying to find an excuse. Maybe it was a fan who just... possibly happened to guess your number? Fuck.

"You got the wrong number, sir." You mutter nervously, but as you hear a chuckle on the other line, it finally sinks in. How could you forget?

"Dont'cha think I'd remember your number after all these calls, sweetheart?" He says, his tone playful. You hated how he was always able to play with you, "Now, answer my question, Y/N. Why. Aren't. You. Home?"

You let out a shaky breath as you stand up, head turning to look at your surroundings as you move to the backdoor of the building, "How do you I'm not?"

The man just scoffs, and you flinch at the loud shatter of glass you hear from the other side of the phone. His tone is more stern this time, almost growling into your ear, "Because I'm at your fuckin' house. Don't play these games, Y/N, you know better.

"Stop calling me!" You retort, breath catching in your throat as you realize the door had locked behind you when you came outside, "Shit." You whisper.

"Block my number." He replies quickly, giggling as he hears your frustrated sigh, "Awh, wait—You can't. 'M'Just gonna change my number, maybe get a new phone...?" He trails off.

You can practically hear the stupid, cocky smile on his face even through the phone, and it makes you wanna throw the device onto the hard pavement beneath your feet, "Fuck off."

As you move the phone away from your ear and hover your thumb over the bright red button to end the call, you hear a loud, booming voice scream at you from the other line, "DON'T HANG UP, Y/N."

Shivers are sent down your spine at his authority, but you still disobey him. You swiftly end the call and then quickly run towards the alley that leads to the front. No thoughts run through your mind except him. Where was he? Your house wasn't that far. Was he here?

As you turn to round the corner towards the front, you feel a pair of hands grab at your waist and roughly pull you down onto their body. You both fall backward, his body acting as a pillow and lessening the impact of your fall.

Before you can scream, his slaps a hand over your mouth, his other hand on your waist in an attempt to get you to stop squirming, "Don't wanna hurt you, mamas, just—Fuck—Close those pretty lips for me."

You only continue to struggle against him, punching all over his body to try and get him to let you go. He doesn't, and it's only when you turn your head that you can see his face. His eyes are wild, and his lips are full, parted so as to let out heavy breaths.

"Hey, you."

@jetaimevous @livialifesblog @watercolorskyy @blahbel668 @her-favorite @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @fallingforfallthings @ncm9696 @hrtsdollie @snowysosturn @1800-love-me @ladyy-whistle-d0wn @ginswife @spideylovin @dej4vhs @strnlxlqve @joemamaaa42069 @fratbrochrisgf @slut4chriss @h3arts4harry @str4wberryk1sses @riasturns @nwlluvsturnsstars17 @asimp4chris @byneptunee @ilove2021chris @freshloveforthefit @sturniologals @ifwdominicfike @sturnsdoll @3lizaluvs @matt444nixi @nikki-starx @notmylaa11 @fionaheartswomen @sturni0l0 @sturniolofannnlmao @demzzz @n3-vaeh @melanch0lybby @viiiwwwee @johnniesverr @kaisturni @chrissfawn @obsessedwurex @flower-sturns @styrnioloss @oliviasturniolo21 @lucysturniolo

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 97 (Cherished Friendships)

Conrad tried to make breakfast for his hosts while a familiar light rain drizzled outside, but Neal rushed into the kitchen to stop him. "It's an old stove. Real finnicky," he insisted. "Maybe you should let someone else do that. Heather, maybe."

"It's no trouble. I had a stove like this growing up," said Conrad, but Neal shook his head.

"It's not a good idea."

Daisy shook her head with a gentle chuckle. "Don't let him scare you. He's just trying to scam a meal out of his daughter now that she's as good as any gourmet chef."

They all knew it was more than that, but they went along with the excuse because it was easier that way. "It's not like I'm making anyone ambrosia," Heather said. There was nothing special about her scrambled eggs and bacon, but she took over at the stove while Conrad hung out with sleepy Lavender, instead.

The early morning rains let up and the sun came out, so Heather and Conrad next headed to Old New Henford, where Everett, Spencer, and their children had settled well into the mild winter season - at least it was more seasonal than their last home in Oasis Springs.

"Greyson, say hello to your godmother, Heather."

"Hi, Heather," he said cheerily. "Hey! You have glasses, too!"

"I told you she did." Spencer looked apologetically at her old friend. "He just got glasses recently and was feeling insecure, so I was trying to tell him all the awesome people I know who rock glasses."

"Your glasses look really good, Greyson. The bright red is so cool!" Heather wasn't lying to him about his glasses, though she played up the excitement to help Spencer convince him to embrace this change in his appearance. "I've had glasses for pretty much as long as I can remember, and I love wearing them. If I looked as cool as you, I'd love them even more!"

Seven-year-old Greyson smiled up at Heather. "You look pretty cool," he said, before running off to play on the monkey bars in their backyard.

Heather watched firsthand the bond between Spencer and her sons. Especially four-year-old Jett, who was Heather's biological child, but was treated the same as his siblings. He followed Spencer everywhere and loved making everyone laugh. "I seriously don't know why you doubt yourself, Spence," Heather gushed. "You're an incredible mom."

They also met Everett and Spencer's third little miracle - a daughter they named Violet. She was about six months younger than Lavender, with big blue eyes like her mother.

"I hope you don't mind that their names are so similar," said Spencer. "I've just always loved the name and I thought maybe the girls might grow up to be friends as close as we are. If that happens, their names are a perfect set!"

Heather smiled at the thought. "I think Violet's name is perfect, and I'd love for her and Lavender to have as many adventures together as we have!"

"I'm still planning to take you to Selvadorada with me next time, if you can get away."

Heather nodded. "And I'm still planning to get away, as long as business stays as manageable as its been lately!"

Everett's father Bob stopped by to say hello, and Heather thought to ask him about Agnes and Agatha. "How does it feel seeing clones of your dead mothers walk around town?"

He laughed. "It was hard to get used to, but now it comforts me whenever I see them. They're together forever, just like they wanted to be."

They left for San Myshuno after leaving the Pancakes' after lunch, picking up Ash from the Landgraabs' penthouse before stopping in to visit with Heather's old friend, Dylan Richards, and her family. Pearl was a year and a half older than Ash, but their mothers were happy to see them get along.

"You can do my math homework?"

Ash shrugged. "It's not that hard. Just numbers."

"I don't like numbers," Pearl complained. "I prefer dancing, but every time I want to practice, Darrell gets in the way!" Pearl's toddler brother perked up from the sofa at the mention of his name. "Be glad you have sisters. Little brothers are so annoying!"

Pearl's father, Gavin, chuckled. "He just wants to spend time with his big sister, sweetheart. He loves you!"

"Why can't he love me and be less annoying?" she moaned.

Gavin took Darrell into the hall to help him use up some of his energy, and by now, Lavender was struggling. It had been days since she'd been in her own crib and felt the familiar surroundings of their home in Brindleton Bay. Though she'd been her wiggly, happy self for most of the weekend, she was fading fast.

Heather had hoped to stop in to see Holly and Kris' daughter, Betta, who was only a few weeks younger than Lavender, but Heather and Conrad knew it was time to head home.

(Look at that face. She would not stand being passed around for cuddles in one more stranger's arms this day!)

They knew they'd see Heather's youngest niece during the Winterfest holidays, but they still had a few weeks of work left until the festive season. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Did I give Heather and Everett's children all colour names? Yes I did. Am I plotting something? Maybe. Will we know what that is for years? No. 😂 Did plotting encourage me to give Violet a better outfit than the default medieval cc dress and bucket hat she aged up in? Also no.

[okaysonny]

Hello love the way how you write fics it just scratches my brain so good, can i request jake x reader where reader finds out about all the bad things he did (him joining illegal gambling stuff and Scamming people 💀) ANGST if you could thank you so much

shackles ╏ jake kim

𓇼 summary: jake reminisces his relationship. #sadtimes

𓇼 details: angst, f! reader, a lot of build up.

𓇼 wc: 2k

𓇼 A/N: anon YOUR REQUEST scratched my brain so good...i love dissecting this man!

with you, he didn't feel restricted to just being jake kim, no. 1 or jake kim, son of gapryong kim. he felt like he could just be himself, with no labels. you made him the happiest man on the planet, and for some reason, you were happy with him too.

and the profoundness of it all is that meeting you happened by complete chance.

his card had declined at a vending machine.

jake looked left and right, hoping no one saw, until he heard laughter coming from behind him.

"times are tough, huh? let me get that for you" you said, giving him a small smile.

he blinked in surprise. "oh...thanks, but you don't have to"

"too late!" you beamed, stepping beside him to face the vending machine. "i made up my mind! what did you want?"

jake didn't like you. he just liked the fanta you bought him. that's what he told himself anyway.

but friendly conversation turned into an exchange of numbers, and an exchange of numbers turned into hanging out. hang out's turned into something more romantic, until you suddenly asked: "can i be your girlfriend?"

jake really should've declined. he'd have to come clean and admit he's essentially a gangster. he wouldn't have time to spend time with you.

...and you deserve so much better. he shouldn't let the bleakness, the danger of his role dull your light.

jake had all the time in the world to start a relationship with someone. it's not like it had to be with you.

still, he found himself not wanting to say no. he didn't know how much he wanted to hear those words until you asked. so...jake wasn't really thinking straight when he shakily whispered: "i'd really like that"

jake remembers when he told you what he actually does. he remembers how you laughed in his face, how you stopped when you saw he wasn't laughing with you.

"you're the leader of a gang?" you squeaked after a few minutes of explanations. "oh my god...does that mean you've killed people?"

"what?! no!" he waved his hands frantically. "we're just trying to protect the street from other gangs. big deal is more of like...a crew"

he sighed, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "look, i understand if you want to end things...it's not the most honourable occupation"

you eyed him suspiciously. "so you don't do like...illegal stuff?"

he gulped slightly. "no"

...well not anymore. so it's not a complete lie.

you narrowed your eyes, not looking convinced. "...so big deal is 100% clean?"

...jake really should've just told the truth, but the lie escaped before he had time to think. "yep. i swear"

you looked at him for a few moments before holding out your pinkie finger. "promise?"

jake linked his pinkie with yours, crossing his fingers behind his back. "i promise"

𖠋♡𖠋

jake remembers how you gave him his first kiss. how you smiled against his lips, even as his hands slightly trembled. it felt like fireworks. everything else melted away — his humour, his walls — just the flutter of something new. something he never thought he needed until now.

he still remembers the first time he brought you to the street, how everyone at big deal greeted you with 90 degree bows, how you waved your hands and told them it wasn't necessary.

or jerry's instant barrage of questions and how you sat through every one, how he gave jake his nod of approval afterwards.

or how the girls handed you a bag, giving you winks as jake stared in confusion. he remembers how beautiful you looked in the dress they gifted you, how you left him speechless.

or how he held you a bit longer than usual the night before rescuing sinu.

𖠋♡𖠋

"sinu! you won't believe it! boss jake got himself a girl!"

"what?!" sinu shrieked in excitement. "jake, you little rascal! i'm gone for a few years and you find yourself a lover?" sinu aggressively rubbed elbows with his.

jake smiled sheepishly, his cheeks flushed pink in a rare sight. "you'll really like her"

sinu smiled gently. "i already do. it's hard to find understanding people like that"

jerry doesn’t miss how jake's smile turned plastered as he nodded.

𖠋♡𖠋

"boss?"

"yeah jerry?"

jerry set his spoon down, thinking of the best way to phrase this. "...you know i'll support whatever you choose, but i think she deserves to know everything"

"...i know" he said quietly.

and jake was going to tell you. eventually.

𖠋♡𖠋

it happened a few days after sinu's return. jake remembers how you asked to meet with him, how your gaze was fixed on the sea even as he came to stand beside you.

"hey...are you okay?" he asked, immediately sensing something off.

"did you run an illegal gambling ring?"

and that's when it hit him — like a punch to the gut he wasn’t ready for. jake felt like he couldn't breathe. he stood frozen beside you, heart hammering in his ears.

you weren’t screaming, you weren’t crying, you were just…asking.

"...where did you hear that?" he said, his voice wobbling slightly.

you exhaled shakily. "this short guy with glasses came to visit me yesterday. he said you ran a gambling ring and went to prison for it"

eugene? revenge for breaking the alliance? eugene really went out of his way to do that? but in hindsight, it was the perfect way to crush him before crushing big deal.

jake remembers how dull your eyes were that day. there were no tears, no emotions, no sniffling. until he realised you did all your crying the night before.

you continued, your voice cracking. "and i said...i said he was a liar, that you'd never do that, but then he showed me pictures of you in prison"

"he said that you took advantage of innocent people...the elderly, teenagers, people trying to send their kids to college"

the memories he wanted to block came back to him all at once.

— Give me back my money, you fuckers! That money was for my daughter's university tuition! I swear to god, I'll blow this whole place up. I mean it!

— Go ahead. Do it. You don't even have the balls. So why did you bother bringing that heavy gas tank? Get him out of here.

"...he said that you profited off of prison fights, that people placed bets and you collected the money for yourself"

jake remembers how pathetic he felt just standing there and listening. there was nothing he could say.

"you promised...and we've been together for months" you said, choking on your words. "i don't care that you lied to me, but you swore that big deal was different. why did you do it?"

"...i had no choice" he whispered. "i tried everything. i needed the money to get sinu back...i had no other options"

you turned to look at him. despite the resignation in your voice, your eyes were starting to water. "that's...not the only thing he said. he said that big deal were okay to let innocent people be taken as hostages...that you just stood there and let it happen"

his blood ran cold. the summit meeting.

"at least tell me the hostage thing isn't true" you croaked. "teenage girls, a middle aged woman...even a baby...tell me he's wrong about that"

jake still couldn't bring himself to look at you. "no, it's true...it's all true"

in spite of your resolve, he heard sniffling. "why?"

"i know it's despicable. it's terrible, but...i had to protect my people. i'd...i'd do it to protect you" he mumbled.

"...protect me from what?"

...workers? rival gangs? enemies of his father? but if he hadn't brought you into his life, you'd never have to worry about that.

in that moment, jake realised he only needed to protect you from himself.

the silence lingered as you sniffled some more. jake glanced at you, the tears now streaming down your face. he reached a hand out, but quickly brought it back to his side, knowing better.

realising you weren't getting an answer, you continued. "...whatever. i don't even care anymore" you muttered.

"i understand why you did those things, but...i can't pretend to be okay with it. i would never want you to protect me if this is what it takes"

he nodded slowly, knowing what was going to happen.

"so i think it's best if we end this" you said shakily.

jake finally turned to look at you, flashing that plastered smile he hates having to use. "i understand...i'm sorry for wasting your time"

you looked at jake for a while, probably expecting more of a fight from him. but the truth is, he couldn't say all the things he wanted.

i'm so sorry. i'm so ashamed of everything. i'll be better for you. i'll never do those things again. i need you. please don't leave.

it wouldn't be true. if he had to do those things again, he would. in a weird way, jake is thankful that eugene pulled the trigger, because he's not sure he wanted to escape the lie of being a good person.

finally, you nod. "...i'm sorry i was dumb enough to believe you"

and as you began walking away, jake finally let out the tears he was holding.

just as he got sinu back, he's loosing something else. but this time, he knows you're not returning.

𖠋♡𖠋

jake should've told you from the beginning. but either way, he always knew it would turn out like this. he was being selfish, living in a fantasy where he could have you and big deal. or maybe he believed the sweetness of your relationship could erase his actions somehow, that he was never jake kim, head of the numbers racket.

he still remembers lineman asking where you went, how jake's sad smile told him everything, how he never brought the topic back up again.

jake never stops thinking about you. you're like a thorn on his side he never wants to take out. he wonders if you've ever thought of him since then, he hopes you have at least once.

sometimes he wonders what it would be like to show up at your door with flowers, saying those three words he was thinking about professing. i love you. i would do anything for you. please give me a second chance. you're everything to me.

but he can't. he can't have both.

jake still looks at your pictures together when he's alone. he still reads through your old messages. he can never bring himself to delete the remnants of you.

jake still wonders what it would be like to experience you completely. how every touch, every unveiling would be so new to him. his cheeks would've been dusted pink, clumsy in his attempts to make you feel cherished. he imagines kissing every inch of you, each kiss feeling like the discovery of something precious. he would've wondered how he got so lucky to see you like this — so beautiful, so entirely his.

jake still remembers your laugh, the one that made his chest ache in a good way, how it felt like he was the only person who could make you laugh like that. he still remembers the way your hand would hover over his, waiting for him to hold it first, and how when he did, you’d give him that little smile, like the world was okay just because you two were together.

jake just remembers everything about you.

"uh...jake?"

he snaps back to the present, glancing at daniel who's sitting on a bench near him.

"are you okay?" daniel asks in confusion. "you've been staring at that vending machine for a while...you must be pretty indecisive. in that case, i recommend the diet coke"

...

times are tough, huh? let me get that for you.

he laughs softly, shaking his head. "sorry. i was just lost in my thoughts"

today, jake thinks he misses you a bit more.

divider: @cafekitsune

[wave-nine]

Same anon (From the paid friend Q),

Lmaooo I'm sorry! But I'd totally let him scam me 🍍😭

anons 😭😭😭😭😭 you've got to value yourselves more.......

[blueteller]

Cale Trying to Order Slacker Life in a Restaurant

[Part 2 "spoiler" warning]

Fate: Good evening, welcome to Power Restaurant, may I take your order? Kim Rok Soo: Yes, I'd like to order some Slacker Life, please Fate: Hm…. We might be out of that… Wait, did you by any chance order Death Vow Curse (Light)? Kim Rok Soo: …no? I literally just got here- Fate: Oops, there must have been a mistake somewhere. Let me talk to my manager Kim Rok Soo: … Kim Rok Soo: (looks at his watch; 36 minutes passed) God of Death: Hello, I'm the current manager. So we might have mixed up your order with the White Star's… Kim Rok Soo: Well then- God of Death: We might be able to fix it if you exchange seats with Cale Henituse Kim Rok Soo: There's really no need- God of Death: Right this way, sir! Cale: …Okay? I guess this seat isn't so bad- Deruth: This seat comes with exclusive Count Heir Rights, would you like some? Cale: I'm really- Deruth: Excellent! I'm sure Basen won't mind Basen: Not at all, I wasn't hungry for Heir Rights anyway Cale: I didn't order any- Alberu: The sit next table offers free Prime Minister tea, if you're interested Cale: No thanks. But I'm seriously getting hungry (looks at the Menu) I might as well order a couple of Elemental Power side dishes… an extra Vitality salad… oh, Scamming Aura on discount, nice…! Eruhaben: What's this, you ordered 4 Elementary Dishes on your plate? Cale: It just kind of happened- Eruhaben: This won't do, this isn't healthy at all. You have to take supplementary 5th Earth Power to balance out your plate. As for the mineral deficiency… You should also replace that Fire Suppressing Water drink with some real Sky Eating Water. Cale: This is getting a bit much- Alberu: You requested the extra large Commander Steak too, right? Cale: Yes but- Wait. I thought I only ordered Temporary Commander's Small Nuggets-? Alberu: Nope, I'm pretty sure you ordered the full Commander of Two Continents Steak Cale: …let me speak with the manager again- White Star: I see, so you're the one who ordered all those dishes! I'm impressed! Are you hungry for some Dragon Slayer Legacy as well? Cale: (grossed out) I'm dead certain I am NOT-! God of Death: You called? Cale: Yes, I'd like to register a complaint- God of Death: Oh, we also recommend Saint's Signature Dish for today! Cage: Don't listen to him! Saint's Dish is total trash! They're not even serving alcohol with that!! Cale: Is anyone even listening to me-?! Clopeh: Sir, I brought you some Legendary Fame lemon tea!! Cale: Get this disgusting thing away from me! Sealed God: …Would you like bitter Demonification Noodles sir? Last chance to sign up, we're out of stock after this! White Star: W-wait, I ordered those-! Earth 3: Oi, was someone ordering an extra Commander's Stake around here? Xiaolen: (begging) Would you like some Purifier's Exaltation dessert? It's on the house! Central Plains: (puppy eyes) A-and, some Nature Realm Level sushi, i-if you don't mind... Cale: ….what the f*** is even happening anymore God of Balance: (shows up out of nowhere) ...What's this about someone messing around with too many orders? God of Death: Oh s***. The Power Executive is here-! God of Balance: (leans over Cale's seat from behind, menacingly) You should just order the Full Course Godly Ascension Dinner. Or ALL of those other dishes will land on your bill Cale: I… I... I just wanted some Slacker Life… God of Hope: (pats his shoulder) Cale… They never servered Slacker Life here in the first place… Cale: ... Cale: (┛ಠ_ಠ)┛彡┻━┻

[eldritch-spouse]

I'd like to send a formal apology to Morell, Obie and Zizz for how quickly and effortlessly Tristalis was able to steal their spots in my heart.

Like low-key, Tristalis sounds like the best choice out of all your characters regarding like romantic situations. It could be because we haven't been exposed to his darker traits, but it just seems so far like he's just so sweet but confused regarding like human customs. I just want to cuddle up with him and smother all three of his heads with love and affection.

and the fact that he makes stuffed animals? My biggest comfort item and like just a big love language of mine? As soon as he gives me that stuffed animal on that bus I'm here blushing and crushing immediately.

How would Tristalis react to a romantic interest who gets all giddy and flustered when he gifted them the stuffed animal. Like they're immediately smiling all wide and hugging the stuffed animal to their chest? Just absolutely fawning over it, even tho he can't understand anything they're saying he can practically see the hearts in their eyes.

He's my husband now, he's got no choice- he's gonna be walking down the aisle in a wedding dress by next week. >:(

[Imagine getting mogged by Tristalis rsrsrs. He can be decidedly scary, but he's more permissive than a few of the monsters here.]

Tristalis has had positive reactions to people who see his plushies. Many have come up to him to buy them without the monster even having to do much of anything except rearrange them in public. He's flexible with prices, but not someone who can be scammed easily- Because, even if he's not well-versed in surface customs, he knows the basics of plenty of currencies. Sometimes a child will try to trade a plush for something rather inadequate, and if Tristalis is in a good mood, he'll just give a plush away for a bag of candies.

The only adult Tristalis has ever given plushies to is you. And Lords, does your reaction have him glowing.

He'd been scheming which one you might like best, mostly based on what you were wearing or the color of your eyes and hair. To know that he hit the nail right on the head has him sighing audibly. The Starbeast may not be fluent in your language, but the beam of your smile and the shine of your eyes is all the answer he needs to clap to himself in happiness.

The problem here is that Tristalis is excitable.

He sees you hugging the stuffed plush to yourself and suddenly wants to ramble, mixing words up in an attempt to talk, to let you know more about his crafts.

At some point he just gives up on words altogether, all three heads bobbing occasionally with glee as he shows you other plushies, gives you skeins of yarn to feel and even requests your opinion on possible designs he poorly sketched (drawing is not in his deck of skills, for sure).

Depending on how receptive you are to Tristalis' attention, he may get immediately sidetracked and just follow you around like a lovesick puppy. He can even make smaller things if it guarantees you'll look at him with the same amount of awe you did before.

[yeahspider]

SWEET LIFE

A/n- this is so self indulgent. like seriously. maknae line x f. reader fluff yes plz! might get a hyung line version bc I like the concept (maybe if yall want it) but this is just a vibe so vibe with me. nsfw (weed mention) . enjoy and feel free to visit my inbox as I am taking requests. <3

Your apartment was a little crowded today. Considering it was everybody's off day. The boys decided to spend most of it at your place. Your apartment for them was a safe haven away from prying eyes and demanding schedules.

You didn't mind having them all over as you hated when you were alone. The noise they brought provided you a piece of comfort. After grueling rehearsals all week and your never-ending day job, this was a much-needed moment of peace.

“Someone take the scissors out of Jisung’s hand thank you very much!” you say as you prepare yourself for the task of taking down your braids. Your next appointment is in the upcoming week and you wanted to give your hair some time to breathe. With the length they're at, it was going to take a while. But of course, your boys are ever excited to help you out. Well most of them.

I feel like you’re scamming me babe.” says Seungmin as he grabs the scissors from Jisung. No one wanted to risk your wraith if he cut too high.

"I don't know what are you talking about Minnie I'd never scam you beloved," you say in your defense.

"yeah because five dollars is a completely reasonable nonscamming price," he says with a smile. Taking your braids gently out of the bonnet you had them in. Seungmin didn't want to pull on them if he could help it.

Jisung, now scissorless, took a seat beside you on the floor. Setting the blunt wraps on the coffee table in front of you. Preparing to roll for you and himself.

"I wish you would let me help more," he said with a pout on his face. You wanted to kiss it off him.

"you are helping sungie your presence is enough. It keeps me calm. Plus no one else rolls a blunt for me as good as you do." you comfort me as you kiss his now smiling lips. That seemed to satisfy him enough as he started the rolling process.

Felix came bounding into the living room from his napping spot in your room, flopping himself on the couch and picking up the remote to the TV. Channel surfing for something interesting to watch.

"Ugh, nothing is interesting to watch on TV. Felix complained while sliding down the couch to the floor as if he was melting in boredom.

"You could always just hook up the game and play Mario Kart or something. Go see if one of the boys wanna play with you," you suggested. Smiling at his antics as he crawled across the floor to give you a kiss. "You always have the best ideas, babe." He said as he practically skipped out of the room. Making your face flush at his praise. Just waving it off as Jisung teased you for your reaction.

A soft moan left your mouth as Seungmin got to the root of a braid. His hands gently unbraiding and giving your scalp a little rub to loosen up the tension. His hands felt so heavenly on your head after the rough week you had.

Felix took his time dragging a sleepy Jeongin into the room. It seems as if he found his gaming partner, although unwillingly. Going straight to the TV to set everything up, meanwhile, Jeongin sleepily made his way to you. Placing his head in your lap as he pulled himself closer to your stomach. You just laughed softly at his cat-like antics. Reminding you of a certain someone.

"Tell Felix to let me sleep." Jeongin groaned. His warm breath hits the exposed skin on your stomach. Hands hin his hair as you stroking softly.

"Now you know once Lix has his mind set on something there is no telling him anything." you comfort the boy.

"But I'm so tired and you're so warm and comfortable Don't make me go over there to that heathen."

Felix can get kind of crazy while gaming but before you could even suggest a solution the sunshine boy dragged the sleepy one out of your embrace. A groan erupts from the latter. There was no saving him now.

An object in front of your vision distracted you from the two gaming boys. It was the blunt Jisung rolled especially for you. To take the edge off a rough week. Encouraging you to take a hit he placed it right between your lips. Murmurung a "There you go. good girl." as you inhaled. Normally you would correct him for goodgirling you but today you didn't care. So you let him get away with it. Plus he could roll one hell of a blunt. And it was kind of hard to be cross with his hand on your thigh and Seungmin'd in your hair. In fact, you were quite content.

"Chan texted he and the hyungs should be home in a bit," Felix said from in front of the TV.

"Good, that's just enough time for Jisung to roll another one," you suggested. Tugging on the hem of his shirt. Maybe you were too high, because you really wanted him to take it off. Yeah, you were so high.

"Hey, I'm not rolling for those losers! I roll for you, and for you only! They have their own hands." Jisung protested as he offered it to Seungmin to which the younger declined, stating that he had to stay focused on your hair. Something about his statement made your heart swell. It's a nice feeling to be cared for.

Jisung then offered to blunt the other two in the room. They on the other hand accepted his offer. It was often he shared his blunts with anyone other than his girl. He said it was the gentlemen in him.

Time passed as you all waited for the older ones to get home. The more that passed the higher you got, and soon enough everyone in the room was higher than you originally intended to be. You could tell in the way everyone was lying to each other. Felix and Jeongin are a pile of limbs, their game long abandoned. Music is playing from the speakers as they whisper secrets to each other, giggling like school children while watching random videos on their phones. You were still seated between Seungmin's legs. His hands still dutifully unbraiding. Ever dedicated to his craft. But you could tell he was contact high as well. You could tell in the way he would kiss your head ever so often. A gentle reminder of his affection for you.

Jisung was sitting in your lap, playing with random parts of your body. Your face arms legs had all been prodded by him, not that it bothered you in the slightest. His touch left sparks all over you. You were having conversations about whatever came to mind. And finding comfort in one another. The atmosphere is warm and cozy. You wish every day could be like this.

[mirroredmemoriez]

John Kramer and The Denlon's

Cracks everything in my body. It's time to yap. I keep going on in many posts about the fact John is just as flawed as those he tries to ''better'', so I want to go over one of my main comparisons in a tad more depth than I have before. John Kramer and Jeff Denlon honestly are very similar when it comes to their backstory and need for revenge due to grief. Even though John always states that he tests people so they become grateful for being alive- It's very obvious in some cases, he's doing it for his own type of gratification too. For example, Cecil Adams who caused Jill Tuck to miscarry and then Cecilia Pederson who scammed John. He didn't put these people in traps just because of his philosophy, but because they were also very ''close to home'' for him.

The loss of a child is very integral to both John and Jeff's character. Both of these men crave justice.... However, the way they want it and how they achieve it isn't exactly the most healthy thing. It leads both of them to neglect their partners, Jill and Lynn. (Just took a break to eat leftover spaghetti I am legit lost in the sauce- I don't plan out these little rants I do, so I just go where rambling takes me.) When it comes to the major differences between them, Jeff is more rage fuelled, at least in how he carries himself. His anger manifests more verbally and physically than John- Which is his downfall, alongside him not listening or acting when needed. This is a bit of a reach, but another thought nonetheless and nothing I say needs to be something I'm 100% on anyway. Danica Scott, the only other witness to Dylan's death didn't cause Jeff's son's demise, however her lack of action and fleeing the scene made her someone Jeff would want to take revenge upon anyway.

Amanda, although she had more involvement with Gideon's death, seeing as she was the one to convince Cecil to rob the clinic, didn't take physical action either. However, outside of her just being a drug addict- It is debated whether or not John always knew about her role in Jill Tuck's miscarriage, another reason for her to be tested.

We've also got basic comparisons such as the fact Jill and Lynn are both in the medical field and having mentioned Lynn again? Her demeanour is more like John than anybody else I have brought up in this post I'd say- I can't really word well why I think that, but it's there anyway. (Another thing to add is how in Saw 3, John in his delirious state starts getting confused and thinking Lynn is Jill.)

Might as well slip some others thoughts in here too whilst I'm fucking rambling this much- I don't have too many complex thoughts on Jeff Denlon I guess, I basically seem him as an example within the Saw universe about a person who cannot let go enough that it results in his trauma and vengeance taking over his life and ending it too. He's not a evil or terrible man, just very flawed. He had some of the physically easiest traps in the franchise to complete, but because he never made an effort to heal and instead remained stagnant within his grief... He takes too long to take action and morally flip flops all over the place when it comes to what decision he'll make- It's that or he doesn't assess the long term consequences of things such as never forgiving. I personally don't think he ever has to forgive someone like Timothy Young- However, I do believe he let's it impact his life and those around him too much. Corbett didn't deserve the neglect she faced and she herself is a child grieving her sibling. Grief and forgiveness are very hard topics to navigate, but I honestly as a viewer felt the most bad for Corbett more so than Jeff or even Lynn. Coming back to Lynn, I believe she ''learnt'' the most or at least came to terms with things faster within her trap than Jeff. She didn't have time to dwell or not be fast paced with her choices, because her life was connected to John's. She was doing her best not only to stay alive, but to get back to her family even if it was dysfunctional. (Me when I come back to this in my drafts weeks later, time to attempt to find the wave length I was on whilst doing this before.) It's an interesting though to picture different people in other traps. For example, if Lynn was going through Jeff's test. Would she have reacted faster than him and made clear cut decisions? Could she forgive? Jeff is no medical professional and his rage wouldn't let him care for John to the best of his ability so we know he'd fumble that, which is why I'm more so focused on Lynn in his test. Lynn's grief is more ''subtle'' compared to Jeff's and as an audience it's hard to pinpoint what her thoughts and opinions of those involved with her sons death would've been. She turned to antidepressants and her fractured marriage led her to having an affair, not to mention the child neglect. But when it comes down to it, we don't see as much as a drive for revenge and justice within Lynn as we do Jeff. This would mainly come down to screen time, setting and general context but it's an interesting thought of how she'd handle someone like Danica or Timothy if they were right in front of her.

This is why I say she learnt the most from her test compared to Jeff in his? After everything she went through with Amanda constantly up her ass and power drilling through a guys skull- All Lynn wanted was to reunite with her family. Like, the only time we see Lynn exert full physical violence is in a deleted scene where she attacks Amanda.... And even then that is because she wants the key for her collar more so than a drive to murder the other woman. On all accounts, she actually won that scuffle as well.

But then for example Jeff when he finally encounters John? He just can't help himself! Lynn literally is on the floor bleeding out, reaching for him not to leave and this man just can't NOT go and fulfil his need for vengeance. He'd literally just acted upon it before too by shooting Amanda, though that is more understandable giving the context of the fact she shot Lynn..... I think overall this is why so many people dislike Jeff but they just can't word it? Like he's been dubbed ''slow ass motherfucking Jeff''- But it's not really the speed of execution, it's either the lack of long term critical thinking and or the fact he's indecisive? Jeff doesn't have the weight of a contraption around his neck and or his life truly on the line like his wife.... However, somehow Lynn is still managing her test better than him with a freaky little lesbian on her ass and doing backhouse brain surgery on some random old dude with a fucking power drill. I'll also bring up the fact that like John and Jeff, Mark Hoffman has a pretty similar drive and motive to the both of these men. Just like how Jeff saw his sons death, Mark saw the aftermath of his sisters murder for example. All three of them feel justified in their actions against those who have wronged them and etc....

And as I always bring up in character studies like these, the perceptions from the audience are so interesting- Especially when you start comparing characters. It will come as no surprise when I say, I am a pretty active Tumblr user... Through this? The interactions with media and popularity of characters from Saw on this platform are decently clear. First I'll get it out the way that screen time plays a big role in making characters fan favourites. Although, Adam is a subversion to this as he's only in one movie (alive) and likely the most popular Saw character- Anyway! Using John, Jeff and Mark as examples here still... As previously stated, these three men can be considered quite alike in some aspects! But our perceptions of them are quite different due to how they're presented and what we know about them. John is an older sickly man, his life being cut short by the fact he has terminal cancer. His wife miscarries and later on then becomes ex-wife and then also somewhere down the line he gets scammed by a fake cancer treatment....All in all? Dude's kinda got fucked over. But what I haven't mentioned yet in this brief is the fact that whilst most of this is going on, peepaw is designing elaborate death traps and testing people in them slash indoctrinating some into his fuckass ideology! He as a character get's quite a neutral response and or a 50/50 split? He's Jigsaw, the face of the franchise.... There is a decent amount to discuss in regards to him. However, when it all comes down to it it I wouldn’t say he’s favoured as much as other characters.

Moving to Jeff, he witnessed his own son get killed in a hit and run and the grief and injustice of that basically made him spiral into neglecting himself but also his family. He cannot move forward from the loss of Dylan and this is why during his test he is so slow to act- I think one thing to mention here too, is this is something John likely accounted for. Jeff’s test is designed for him and the challenge isn’t that of " OH CUT YOU ARM” it’s for him to overcome his grief and to choose whether to forgive or let those involved with Dylan’s passing die. It’s easy for us as viewers behind the screen to think that he could’ve done almost everything faster. But we’re not Jeff. It’s shown time and time again mentally he just cannot move on and the only reason he is making progress though the test is due to its nature, average therapy? Jeff just wouldn’t go because he refuses to confront HIMSELF in regards to his own grief and would rather wallow in fantasies of revenge.

Mark Hoffman? Obviously the case I’ll bring up with him is that of his sister's murder. Angelina is his only close relative, with no other mention of Mark’s family in the franchise really. So, when she is killed in a case of domestic violence and he also sees her dead body? Yeah, that’s certainly the kind of thing to fuck someone up mentally. Which is why Mark then developed a drinking problem to cope and started to display more erratic behaviour such as shooting a man three times who’d actually surrendered beforehand…. By the time Seth Baxter his sister's killer is released from prison via a technicality- Mark has no quarrels with taking his revenge via abducting him and placing him in a Jigsaw like trap. However, as we all know, this trap is by no means escapable and is only being used by Mark as a scapegoat to get away with murdering Seth. This act then kickstarts his life as an apprentice for John when he himself is abducted.

(I legit forgot this was in my drafts- Months later. I’ll post this now even if it’s not really complete…)

[kateswallofweird]

WE'RE GOING TO BE OKAY . . .

oliver queen x you; cw angst, hurt comfort, mentions of infidelity (none of it true)

💭 written with smallville in mind but anything goes

oliver queen is a stubborn son of a bitch. he's cocky and obnoxious, and he likes to be antagonistic just because he can be. sarcasm is a second language to him, and there's no stopping him once he's set his mind to something.

when you first met him, you fell in love with his every quality. because despite his stubbornness, he knew how to let his reigns go for you. he was cocky and obnoxious, but he was sweet behind closed doors, a side of him reserved only for you. his sarcasm was just humor then, and his antagonism was forgiveable. you saw his drive as ambition and a yearning for success.

but sitting here now at the end of your bed—your shared bed with a tear-streaked face and frustration bubbling within you, you weren't so sure you saw the man you fell in love with in the image of oliver queen anymore.

"i am not cheating on you." you wiped your face with a shaky hand, trying to catch your breath as air evaded you. "i would never cheat on you," and you're begging him to believe you because it's true.

but hard-ridden by the years of distrust and hurt from his time on that forsaken island and the years he spent before it as a rich kid everyone was just trying to scam, oliver doesn't know if it's the fear of being right or the fear of being eaten by his insecurity that takes him over.

"i don't know," he breathes.

i love you.

it's what you want to tell him, but you know him. you know that love and affection, as much as he craves it, it's not enough to sway him alone. so you bite your tongue and you take as deep of a breath as you can before you speak again.

"what did you see? o-or what are you sensing or smelling or hearing that you think i'd—" you're nauseous at the mere idea of it, the rumors that might have shook him so deeply it came to this or the thought that someone was snaking their way so maliciously into his head, "that i'd hurt you this way, what are you thinking? talk to me. oliver, please."

his eyes find yours, and deep down he knows he's wrong, but some tiny miniscule part of him is still doubtful. he's good at reading people, so he knows you're telling the truth, but love to him has always been this ugly, terrible thing. and the darker part of his mind whispers, vulnerability, to him. weakness, it insists, and for some reason he wants to listen.

"i-" his voice cracks. "i don't know," he repeats. "i don't know."

and you try not to let any more tears slip when you reach for him and he flinches. (does he flinch because he's scared of you or of himself?) but you persist and oliver relaxes into your touch. your hand finds his and it fits so easily.

"but you know me," you say. "even if you don't trust me, you know who i am."

oliver is quiet. he's trying so hard to stay logical. who are you? he thinks, but the thoughts are so loud. the price of being a hero of the night eats away at him. but he thinks anyway. he thinks about the times you've stayed up in the early hours of the morning to patch him up after a rough patrol. he thinks about the time he first told you about his other life, and you started to cry because you were so sad he'd bore this alone this entire time. he thinks about when he met you and all the joy that followed. because you were a breath of fresh air, his missing puzzle piece.

"i'm sorry," he whispers. he brings your hand to his lips and places a gentle kiss to your skin. "i'm a mess."

"so am i," you answer, pulling him into a hug and letting him rest against you. "we're going to be okay, oliver."

💭 just realized i rarely write any happy stories..