#in the wake of disaster

[koolaidashley]

Raph is at a sleepover w cass so now donnie is the Big Brother Pillow smh 😞😞

[charmwasjess]

Lightsaber Theory: Obi-Wan "Sith Lords are Our Specialty" Kenobi consistently loses duels to Dooku not for any reason of technical form mismatch or lack of ability, but because Dooku is not even pretending to try to kill him. Resultantly, Obi-Wan can’t figure out what the fuck is going on when they fight. 

Obi-Wan: (preparing to defend an expected lethal strike) You’ll answer for your enormities, Count!

Dooku: (giving him the lightest love tap on the leg) Don’t be so sure, my special good lineage baby boy, so perfect in my eyes. 

Obi-Wan: …What?

Dooku: What?

Which Dooku and Obi-Wan proud lineage moment is even the most unhinged? There are so many to choose from! Is it Dooku’s frequent inability, both in AotC and TCW, to keep from spontaneously gushing about Sidious’s plans and even his own dark secrets to Obi-Wan?? Is it the time in Labyrinth of Evil where Dooku drags a long-suffering, bored Grievous over to watch a holorecording of Anakin and Obi-Wan thwarting his plans yet again, to point out how beautifully they’re working together as a team and how much he likes watching their lightsaber work evolve? Is it in the recent Brotherhood novel, where Obi-Wan just has to casually namedrop Qui-Gon to get Dooku to do exactly what he wants?

Obi-Wan is a big problem for Sidious in his mission to destabilize and corrupt Anakin, and Sidious knows it. He needs him out of the picture to do the same isolating, evil bullshit that worked so well when ensnaring Dooku himself. But the war has been going on for years now, and guess who remains inconveniently alive? And whose job was that to take care of? Oh yeah. I remember. His useless, Padawan assassin-collecting apprentice: fucking Count Dooku. By the time of RotS, Sidious has specifically ordered Dooku to make fucking sure Obi-Wan is dead only for him to completely ignore the command about a half-dozen times.

Going by the Stover RotS novelization, in the same scene where Dooku also literally refers to Obi-Wan as his fucking grandson actually, add that to our earlier list, Sidious reiterates that KILL OBI-WAN is the plan (over the sound of Dooku’s loud complaining) moments before that final duel.  I kind of wish we’d gotten a shot of Sidious's incredulous, enraged expression as Dooku knocks Obi-Wan unconscious and pins him safely out of the way. He is, once again, going out of his way to not kill Obi-Wan in that duel, and this time directly disobeying his Master to his face after they just had a conversation about it. You just know exactly what Sidious must be thinking at that moment. Oh, Dooku. You are so fucking fired.

[sad-leon]

More twin forehead kisses (or affection)... mayhaps...?

tried to get back into doodleing but the depression and other things are hitting a bit too hard, but have this attempt at finishing the sketch i started a few weeks ago

[aspen-charminghearts]

The Clingy GlassHeart Girlfriends:

[Middle of GlassHeart debate about neediness]

Red: I am not needy!

Chloe: . . .

Still Chloe: . . .

Absolutely still Chloe: . . .

Chloe, sighing: Red you are the definition of needy, you once woke me up in the middle of the night at 2:36 AM when we were CUDDLING and SLEEPING IN THE SAME BED to make sure we were still dating.

_Two Days Earlier_

Red sleeping during her midday nap:

Chloe, gently shaking her awake: Hey Red, could you please wake up love?

Red, sleepily: Hm? What is it Bluely?

Chloe a little jittery: Could you please get up and go with me to this social gathering with my friends, I’m feeling to anxious to go without you right now.

Red, still very sleepily staring at her: . . .

Chloe, pulling out the puppy eyes: Pleaseeeeeeee

Red waking up a bit more: Fine! Just 5 more minutes.

Chloe: But Red, I want you awake now!

Red: If you want time with me before you see your friends, cuddle with me or suffer. [Immediately falls back to sleep]

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

happy mother's day lmfao

bonus (the girls are fightiiing):

[spearxwind]

Idk if this counts as spoilers but if Adri is essentially like a computer virus where did he get a physical body from?? Did he steal it from someone or was it provided for him to he put into??? So much to think about........

GREAT QUESTION! He stole it :)

He stole the body and the body's name for himself, and then fabricated an appearance and personality and mannerisms.

His body is one of the previously many nanomachine systems set in place in the Old World to safeguard and maintain both people and machinery. They were known as Guardian Arrays, but now they are referred to as Angels. Only two are currently known to still be fully operational, Adri being one of them.

The Fall (Otherwise known as the literal end of the world) was an apocalypse event where a system bug caused every advanced enough AI to go rogue and turn on mankind. It started small, but spread far and wide exponentially and it irreparably changed whatever it infected. The Arrays, being as important as they were, had more safeguards in place against this stuff but it still didn't stop them from becoming infected. Especially ADRIEL. The corruption inside it became severe enough that it first became a virus, and then grew into a full fledged self compiled AI that was notorious enough to be given its own name "Usurper", though you know it as "The Hydra".

The only way to avoid being completely wiped out during this event was to mass purge absolutely EVERYTHING (so humanity lost basically 99% of their tech and their knowledge). Did this work? kiiiind of.

Because of it's self compiled nature, ADRIEL was never able to be properly purged, so instead it was (after a monumental, worldwide effort) put to sleep beneath the earth, never to be disturbed again.

Until....

[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

getting in a real crabbysulk about the jockification of celegorm. i think it's largely due to the modern status of hunter characters as invariably sporty non-intellectuals roughing it in the dirt, with hunting itself as a sort of extension to athletic competition. and it can definitely be that! but it can also be a huge extravagant political opportunity to schmooze around in pavilions with servants and rich food and nice clothes and hundreds of people all trying to impress someone important while looking their best on a horse in the most lavish showy harness imaginable. the secondary reason i think is the cause for celegorm being thrown under the himbus (himbo bus) is the desire, conscious or un, for him and curufin to fit the jock/nerd archetype. because curufin is marked out textually as conniving, and therefore intelligent, a perceived dichotomy is set up that can only be fulfilled by celegorm folding up into the role of brawny yes-man or the oft favored handsome and comical jock, who, naturally with neither interest nor capability for slyness, frees up the stage for curufin to play the smartypants manipulator or political mastermind. and this is the one that really gets me. because not only does it erase celegorm’s canonical traits (he’s politically-minded! he’s cunning! he’s nasty and quick-tempered and an active force within the architecture of multiple stories!), but it pushes aside a potentially compelling dynamic in favor of what’s expected. like give me a celegorm who’s the only son of fëanor to join the lambengolmor! give me a celegorm who creates new writing systems to translate canine folktales or transcribe birdsongs! give me a celegorm who’s just as clever and smarmy and obnoxious as curufin but knows how to sneak around without getting noticed! give me a celegorm and curufin who capitalize on peoples’ assumptions about which of them is the one to watch out for! give me nerd celegorm!!

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

More clone wars headcanons (it's just Ahsoka and Anakin)

No matter how only Ahsoka gets Anakin will always see her as that little 14 year old who strong-armed her way onto a battlefield 

Honestly he isn’t very aware of this but there are tiny moments when it becomes very clear 

There are moments when people ask how old his padawan is and he’ll go “Oh she’s” and he’ll take a moment for some mental calculations and say “she’s 18 kriff she’s 18” 

And he’ll kinda sit in silence with that fact for a couple of seconds 

There’s also moments when people will call him out for getting her age wrong 

Like he’ll go “Don’t bite off more than you can chew Soka you’re only 14 after all” 

Ahsoka will reminds him in two days she’s be turning 20 when Anakin argues that fact Obi-Wan reminds him that he’s 25 which would make her 20 in a couple of days Anakin just kinda stares at a wall 

Ahsoka tried to snap him out of it but Obi-Wan stopped her with a quite “let him grieve Ahsoka” 

No matter how old the two get they will always play pranks on each other if anything the intensity grows with them 

When Ahsoka when 14 she would save small handfuls of sand to put in Anakin’s shoes 

And he would have thought it was just left over from some mission if the sand didn’t keep appearing after he emptied it out 

That and he caught Ahsoka red-handed and chased her sneaky ass around the temple until they were both too tired to care 

When Ahsoka turned 20 she hid sand everywhere in his shoes and in his pockets, girl even got it in some of his mugs 

He knew it was her cause he knew her m.o but she won’t admit to it and she doesn’t stop to matter how much he begs 

The breaking point is when he finds his bed covered in sand which he deems going too far cause even tho Padme literally couldn’t care less 

He tracked her down and kept her in a headlock until she admitted defeat 

It wasn’t a chocking headlock mind you it’s just tight enough to keep her in place he just drags her around the whole base while he goes about his business 

Anakin’s prank was pretty simple he would slowly steal all her head wraps 

At first she didn’t notice anything she just thought Anakin stole one during training and put it somewhere 

But after a couple of days of not being able to find it she discovers another one went missing 

And the cycle continued like that for years 

It didn’t bother her but sometimes when she was going out with friends and couldn’t find her favorite ones you’d hear her scream “Ani where’s my leather head wrap?” 

And he’d act all innocent saying that he “has no idea what you’re talking about snips maybe you misplaced it again” 

And she’d groan and go look for a different one because she didn’t have enough time to interrogate him 

Anakin waits a couple of years to pull off his full prank which is convincing everyone he can to wear one of her head wraps and act like nothing is going on 

And he gets a good amount of people too including some of the clones and even the twins 

The only people who wholeheartedly reject being a part of the plan are Padme and Obi-Wan they discovered years ago that it isn’t wise to get involved in their prank war 

Honestly Ahsoka would have thought she lost her mind that day if she hadn’t found every single head wrap she lost hidden around her quarters 

It kind of becomes a running joke of how protective Anakin is of Ahsoka 

Some stories being blown out of proportion about how Skywalker single-handedly moved the ruble to grant her freedom form the tank 

Some say how he searched on the ground day and night when Ahsoka was captured by the hunters 

Criminals claim they barely made it out with their lives if they had Ahsoka in their custody 

They both find these stories hilarious but Obi-Wan and Padme know there is a lot of truth in those stories 

It doesn’t just stop with the enemy either this man has and will do intensive background checks on every single person Ahsoka meets 

And you best believe that potential love interests are kept under the closest watch possible 

Rex and his boys are happy to track down the person if they feel they’re acting a little sketchy 

Sometimes this ends with actual criminals being put away and sometimes this ends with Ahsoka scolding everyone who had anything to do with it 

Some people get 30+ apology letters and a promise that it will never happen again (most of those people can tell those letters were written with grit teeth and a little togruta standing close by)

Anakin does agree to tone down his protective streak and promises to never abuse his power like that again 

She didn’t make him stop giving the shovel talk to literally anyone within a three-mile radius of her (mostly cause she didn’t know he was doing it) so he considered that a win

I’m always reminded of how Anakin made it a game to count how many people their squads took out and I was wondering what other games they had 

How many times could they lie to the council without getting caught, how many times they crash a ship, and how many times they save each other's lives 

Like imagine Ahsoka tripping Anakin and before he can ask why the hell she did that a blast hits the floor and she just goes “That’s 40 for me” as she runs away 

Anakin yelled after her “yeah 40 to my 80 snips” 

Those numbers also serve as a reminder and reassurance that no matter how dangerous the situation gets they’ll never let that count stop

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Live a Little

Wake Up-- Chapter 2

Series Masterlist          Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, misogynistic language, brief conversation about sexual harassment, description of anxiety and a panic attack 

a/n: This chapter ends with a touch of angst so prepare yourselves! Please feel free to comment, like, share and/or request things from me and let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter :)

w/c: 2.6k

“Ok. Ok, you can do this. Just take a deep breath.” You muttered nervously to yourself, fanning your hands towards your body gently. As your nerves climbed steadily, your hands had begun to shake which made it incredibly difficult to finish your eyeliner. 

Breathing deeply, you picked up the eyeliner brush once more and started again. After you had closed the applicator, your phone alarm startled you.

“Shit!” You cried, running for the dress you had laid out. Matt would be here any minute and you didn’t have your clothes on yet. 

Throwing the dress over your head you slipped it on and ran back to the mirror to pull your hair back. 

Outside of your apartment, Matt smiled, hearing you anxiously murmur to yourself. He felt a little guilty for adding unnecessary pressure, knowing that you were already nervous going to a large event like this. He had faith that the two of you could make it through this together—relatively unscathed, he hoped. 

Standing in front of your door, he gave you another moment alone before knocking. “Shit!” You whispered. “Coming!” 

As you opened the door for him, Matt was enveloped in a variety of sensations that were so vividly you he couldn’t help but smile. Your apartment was welcoming, warm and, as far as he could tell, cozy. It smelled sweet and slightly floral. There was music playing softly from somewhere inside. “Hi.” He said simply, not wanting to overwhelm you with words at the moment. 

“Hi,” your words were quiet, like you suddenly were shy around him. “You look…good. Really good.”

Letting out a chuckle, he thanked you. “Can I come in?” He gestured vaguely towards your doorway. 

“Oh yah, I’m so sorry, of course you can! I wasn’t thinking about—“ Your heart was racing.

“Hey,” Matt gently grabbed your wrist, feeling you focus on him intently. “It’s just me, sweetness.” Your pulse fluttered at the pet name, filling him with pride and a surge of protectiveness. Intertwining your hands slowly, he let you take a breath. “Are you sure you’re ok with this? If it’s too much we can call it off right now.” 

“No, no.” You took a shaky breath. “I’m fine. It’s just…I’m fine. Let’s go inside, I’m almost ready.” Still grasping his hand, you gingerly tugged him into the apartment. “Are you alright sitting on the couch while I finish up?”

“That sounds great.” He gave a reassuring smile, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. 

The two of you walked over to your couch, Matt sitting down while you ran off to put on jewelry. 

“Did you do anything fun before this?” Matt asked, fingers running over the soft blanket folded over the couch. 

“Not really,” You called back to him, struggling to get your necklace to clasp. “I pretty much just sat around waiting for this gala. You?”

“Foggy and I had to run over some things for our cases this week. We’ve got a full docket so we’re going to be busy.” 

“Working on a Saturday? Gosh Murdock, your boss is ruthless.” You teased, sitting down beside him as you put on your earrings. 

“He’s the worst. Works all of us to the bone, always making blind jokes. I don’t know why I haven’t quit.” Matt grinned at you and you giggled. 

“Because he’s also the most compassionate, thoughtful person in the city. His girlfriend is a lucky woman.” You bit your bottom lip, turning your body towards him and clasping your hands in your lap. 

“Trust me, he’s the lucky one. I can’t believe she agreed to date him. For all we know, the relationship is fake!” Matt declared with feigned indignation making you laugh. 

You stood from the couch, tracing your hand over his arm so he could find it to pull himself up. “You lie, Murdock. We are as real as can be. And we are about to blow them out of the water with our charm.” 

“I like your attitude, sweetness.” Matt but back a smirk as your pulse jumped again at the name. “Before we go, keep in mind that you’re pulling the strings, ok? You can call this off at any time. If you need to leave, just say the word.” 

“I appreciate it. But I promise that I’m not nervous because of you, or this,” You gestured between the two of you before continuing. “I just…at events like these, I’m noticeably different than everyone else in the room. I don’t have the same degrees or experience and they write me off as young and naïve. Which, maybe I am, but—“ 

“You deserve to be there. Just as much as anyone else.” Matt assured you, taking your elbow as you guided him to the elevator in your building. “You’re smart, and kind, and good at your job. Don’t let them make you feel small.” 

Breathing deeply, you leaned into him. “Thank you.”

“It’s just the truth. Besides, if anyone makes you uncomfortable, I’ll trip them with my cane.” You both laughed at the idea. 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” 

————————————————————————

As you and Matt approached the venue, your heart pounded. You tried to reason with yourself. The most important people in the field would be there tonight. No one would be looking at you, or judging you. And if they did, they’d see someone dressed appropriately in a gown that accented her figure with a handsome lawyer on her arm. A very very handsome lawyer. With really toned arms. Seriously, did he workout constantly? You knew Matt was fit before tonight, but looking at him in his tailored suit beside you…well. You couldn’t help but ogle a little. 

“You ready?” Matt asked, turning his attention on you. You closed your eyes and refocused. Thankfully, Matt’s presence tonight was already making you feel a bit more grounded. 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

“You’re in charge, angel.” He murmured. Angel? That was a new one. “Like we talked about before. You initiate all PDA. If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, let me know. Pet names still ok?” 

“Uh—I uh…yes. Yes they’re ok.” You stuttered, embarrassed by how much you liked this. 

Matt chuckled, no doubt already knowing how much you liked the terms of endearment. You weren’t sure how, but he always seemed to know what you were feeling. 

You delicately took his hand into your own. “Let’s do this.”

The two of you stepped through the doors and into the gala. Lawyers, board members, and other high profile attendees milled about holding small plates with hors d'oeuvres and glasses of wine. Across the room, Foggy and Karen were talking to a partner from HC&B. Karen waved at you, smiling. 

“Um…” Your voice cracked slightly. “Karen and Foggy are here. Across the room, on the right side.” 

“Thanks, sweetness. Promise we will be ok.” Matt murmurs, leaning into you gently. 

“Yah. I know,” you gave a small smile and squeezed his hand. “C’mon, let’s go join your partners.”  

As you began to lead Matt towards your friends, you were intercepted by a fiercely beautiful woman. She looked to be in her 50s, all sharp angles and pointed stares. Her smile filled you with a sense of dread. 

“Matthew! How lovely to see you tonight.” Her grin was that of a predator. 

“Beatrice, it’s always nice to speak with you.” Matt forced a smile, but there was a tension behind it. Your eyes widened with realization. Brushing his thumb over your knuckles, Matt turned to you. “This is Beatrice Snyder of HC&B, love. I’m not sure if you’ve met before.”

“I haven’t had the pleasure.” You forced a smile, but your gut filled with a vile emotion. You stuck your hand out, introducing yourself. 

“I’ve been anticipating our meeting for days, dear. You’re quite lucky to have been able to tie this one down.” Snyder stroked her hand over Matt’s bicep which made your blood boil. 

A wave of something animalistic splashed over you. You slid an arm around Matt’s waist and looked at him with the most love sick gaze you could muster. With a smile, you responded. “Most days, I can’t believe it.” 

“It’s so charming to see such an important legal figure with someone so…new…to the scene.” Snyder remarked, looking you up and down in analysis. “Remind me what you do again?”

“I’m the Volunteer Coordinator for the NYC Pro Bono Association.” 

“Oh that’s right, dear” Snyder spit the word at you. “I remember now. You caused quite a stir when you were promoted. Everyone assumed it would be a candidate with, well, more experience.” 

Your heart pounded. The hand around Matt’s waist flexed and he carefully pulled you closer,

“I assure you, she is overly qualified for the position.” 

“We’ll see.” Snyder flashed her teeth in another cruel smile. “Unfortunately, I have to go mingle, but I’d love to chat more this evening. I’ll find you.” With that horrifying threat, she was gone. 

Your feet felt like they were cemented to the floor. Matt’s knuckles stroked your thigh softly and you realized you were still holding his waist in a vice grip. 

“Shit sorry.” Trying to remove your hand from his waist, he caught you and intertwined your fingers. “You were right, she’s the worst.”

Matt tilted his head a notch, a genuine grin spreading across his face. “She’s still watching us. You can say no if you want, but would you like to give her a show?”

“More than anything.” You growled. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“Oh, yes— um…yah you can.” You couldn’t tear your eyes off of his smile. He leaned down slightly, using one finger to tilt your chin up. 

Matt’s hand slid around to grasp your neck and you let your body be guided to his. You leaned up to meet his lips, but they never met. His face pulled away from yours suddenly, pressing kisses firmly to your forehead, then both cheeks.

Stepping back from you a bit, Matt’s brow pinched. “Too much?” 

“No. Not too much.” You said, but you couldn’t help but feel—conflicted? On the one hand, the lingering feeling of his lips burned on your skin, a sensation you would gladly take to your grave. His kisses were featherlight and tender and made you feel so loved. So how on earth did you feel disappointed at the same time? Had you subconsciously been expecting him to fully make out with you, his fake girlfriend, in front of a room of his peers? God, you were so fucking naïve–

Matt’s chuckle broke you out of your spiral. “So, is she jealous?” 

Stealing a glance over your shoulder, you felt your spirits lift, marginally. Beatrice Snyder was clenching her fist around the stem of her wine glass so tightly, it was a miracle it didn��t snap in half. “She’s fuming. Shall we join our friends?” 

The two of you made your way over to Foggy and Karen who looked like they, too, we’re holding back fits of giggles. 

“You guys,” Karen cried, under her breath. “That was amazing.” 

“Magnificent. Truly the performance of a century.” Foggy gave a round of silent applause, which made you grin, then he drew in a huge gasp. “Matt, you’re not going to believe this—that bumbling prosecutor from Wednesday is here! Apparently, he’s the nephew of a partner at LZ”

“Ugh, it had to be nepotism, there’s no way he’d keep the job otherwise!” Matt snorted. “Did we already tell you this story?” He turned to you with a gleeful expression. 

“I don’t think so?” You replied, happy for any distraction from your confusing personal monologue. 

“Oh, you’re going to LOVE this!” Foggy snatches your hand away from Matt and leads you to a table. Matt shakes his head with fond exasperation, following after. 

Truthfully, Matt wasn’t sure if he would have done the story justice at the moment. His mind was far too preoccupied with his intense shame and self-doubt following his failure to kiss you properly. He’d wanted to pull you close and give Beatrice and her posse something to gawk at, but he couldn’t follow through. What was the matter with him? Thinking back, he hadn’t been this nervous with a woman since… Nope, not the time to think about that.

Matt felt Karen press a glass of liquor into his hand and he downed it. ‘This isn’t real’, he reminded himself. ‘Don’t do this to yourself, don’t do this to her.” He forced himself to tune back into the conversation, pushing his emotional friction as far back in his mind as he could. 

Foggy’s frown was evident in his voice. “You alright, buddy?”

“Fine!” Matt answered, too quickly for anyone to believe him. “Just, a lot going on is all. Finish the story!” Foggy’s attention remained on him for a moment, before he dove back into the anecdote expressively.

Under the table, you took Matt’s hand once more, giving it a tiny squeeze as Foggy described the floundering of the latest unimpressive prosecutor there firm had gone up against.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite your doubts, the night was going rather smoothly. With Matt’s arm around you, your nerves practically vanished. His charm and extroverted nature rubbed off on you as the two of you chatted with various attendees. 

After a couple of hours of small talk, your brain needed a breather. Excusing yourself from the ongoing conversation between Matt and a circuit judge about courthouse accessibility, you made your way to the bathroom. As you sat down in a stall to clear your head, the door opened and two sets of heels stumbled in. 

One woman gave a heavy sigh. “I wish these events weren’t so goddamn boring. If I have to hear Chao tell his fly fishing story one more time, I’ll shred all of the notes from the Jones deposition.”

The other person laughed shrilly, and you froze in disbelief at your own misfortune. It was Beatrice Snyder. 

“He really does think he’s some hotshot outdoorsman. Though, surrounded by these pasty idiots, he might as well be Paul Bunyan.” Snyder remarked. 

As you debated whether to make a run for it, the first woman spoke again. 

“Matthew Murdock and his new toy sure made quite an entrance,” the younger woman snickered. Dear god, this was so not happening right now.

Snyder tsked with disgust, “They did, didn’t they. I swear, I have seen the girl before but I don’t remember her being so…plain.”

Your heart sank as your anxiety rose. Snyder’s colleague gave a sharp laugh, “She is rather unimpressive. A man as handsome as Murdock could have any woman he wanted, this pairing is…almost sad.” 

A lump formed in your throat. 

“It is truly pathetic,” Snyder jumped in. “Not to mention, the little leech was only given her position after defaming James Lannister. He was a shoe-in for the role and then, poof– let go for ‘sexual harassment allegations’ a whole 5 days before her promotion. Quite a damning timeline, if you ask me.”

Tears were pouring down your cheeks now, your lungs constricted as you held back a sob. Lannister’s termination was supposed to be low-profile, your bosses had promised to be discreet after you confided in them. You felt so fucking betrayed. 

“Well, there’s no doubt she’ll get what’s coming to her, the shrew.” Snyder sighed, dreamily. “Murdock will come to his senses and realize she’ll never be enough for him.”

The other woman chuckled. “Karma is truly a bitch.” 

And with that, they were gone, the door swinging shut behind them. 

The sob you’d been holding back burst past your lips. Pathetic. You took a moment, hoping the two crones had made their way back to the party, before making your escape. As discreetly as possible, you fled the bathroom and bolted out of the side exit, ignoring the sympathetic looks of the venue’s staff. 

Taglist:  @maladaptivedaydreamingbum

[aceofwhump]

Around the World in 80 Days 1x06

[sakura-fraust]

Good morning, ladies~

[miscellaneousrenaissant]

It's been almost a week since Episode 3, and I want to highlight two things:

Thing #1: In Episode 3, Shadow!Evan looted his shoes off his dead body

In Episode 2, Evan went into the hot springs in just his black boxer briefs

That means Evan fucking Kelmp went into the magic healing hot springs while wearing just his underwear and wingtip shoes and nothing else, and I need you to imagine - to visualize - the palest, whitest man possible in just black shorts and black shoes chilling in a hot tub

Thing #2: In Episode 3, K and Shadow!Evan toweled off the blood and arm goo that got on Sam

In Episode 2, the only towels they had were the ones T2 brought them

Meaning L.O., whoever they are, is going to find their fluffy, embroidered, freshly laundered, gorgeously lavender-scented towels - that got taken by a teacup pig - now covered in blood

[hamable]

Now that the season’s over I want to share one brief, gruesome theory I had in regards to Lucy’s death and KLCK’s wrath.

Kipperlily felt that the school favored certain students over others. I started wracking my brain for a time when a staff member would have stepped in for TBK in such a way that it was not only perceivable as an unfair advantage, but would so fully fuck over KLCK, her party, or the student body as a whole. I landed on one thing: Aguefort going God Mode near the end of spring break.

He turned into a giant. He moved the very sun in the sky. Mountains were molehills and enemies were ants.

When The Bad Kids found Lucy’s body, the detail of her being struck with unimaginable bludgeoning force stood out to me. It doesn’t fit the timeline, and didn’t end up matching the rest of the evidence they gained from Lucy’s body, but the momentary idea that Aguefort had fully crushed Lucy and possibly others during spring break bc he came to The Bad Kids’ Aid was a concept that rocked my world. As much as I love how the season played out, KLCK being right and the fault being on Aguefort would’ve been a wicked interesting plotline to follow

[livingasaghost]

i bought into the :/ vibes of captive prince as well because for a long time i didn't care to look beyond what everyone else was saying about it and frankly i wasn't interested in reading the books but when i see readers saying we shouldn't read captive prince because it glorifies slavery and non-con while the same readers praise colleen hoover and fourth wing and the after series and every shitty dark romance mafia book... i am not saying captive prince is the greatest book series ever and i definitely was uncomfortable with parts of it (because i am definitely not as intellectual as others who read and analysed it) but there's so much worse books out there that get praised A Lot (and especially on booktok) and yeah idk where i am going with this sorry atsjdkf

SAY THAT!!!! like listen i get it, if you're into dark problematic shit kudos, because i looooove me some fucked up books but if you are pointing fingers while ALSO reading a different brand of problematic shit....maybe you're the problem! i feel like people who read books like captive prince or aftg are usually the first ones to analyze how fucked up they are, to think critically and engage with the darker parts of those series whereas a lot of colleen hoover stans on booktok just gloss over the abuse and toxicity because it's all about romance? (or supposedly about romance) like sure captive prince is a love story in the end, and aftg is kind of about a love story in its own way, but i think both of those stories are first and foremost about overcoming abuse and healing from trauma and learning how to trust other people in the wake of all that. the romance is just a wonderful addition to some complex series that allow you the space to exist in the gray areas of human nature.

[its-monster-mash]

Didn’t Your Momma Ever Tell You not to Talk to Strangers

Bo Sinclair X Reader - Part Three

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Rough Sex(Consensual), Allusion to past non-con(not with Reader)

Part One Part Two

You stir awake, confused with your body aching, in an unfamiliar bed. The last night’s events come back to you when your eyes settle on the man sprawled out on the bed next to you.

Bo.

He looks so peaceful, almost angelic where the light peeks through the heavy curtains and illuminates him. You can’t help but to lean down and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

A sharp inhale, and a soft sigh, and he’s settled deeper into sleep’s embrace. For a moment, you think about settling back into the blankets yourself—it would be so easy to settle into the crook of Bo’s arm—but you’d skipped lunch yesterday, and then missed dinner in favor of satisfying more urgent hungers, so the treacherous bastard that is your stomach forces you to stay awake.

Still though, it’s hard to tear your eyes away from him, now that you have a moment to take in his form in relative stillness.

You know it’s rude to stare, but there’s no one awake to catch you now, so you let your eyes wander over him unreserved—more studying him than anything. Your breath catches in your lungs when you get a good look at his wrists—you’d thought you’d seen scars, but you’d been so preoccupied with the rest of him last night that you didn’t really let it sink in.

You can tell by the thickness and coloration that these are old scars, and you shudder to think of what exactly could have done that to him.

He lets out a small whimper in his sleep, and that reminds you that your little habit is still fucking creepy when the subject of your fascination is asleep—perhaps moreso.

He makes more small sounds of distress, and you wonder if maybe you should wake him—would that be more kind than letting him sleep?

Probably not—he exerted himself quite a bit last night, taking you through round after round of sticky, sweaty, bloody sex—honestly you’re surprised the two of you aren’t sticking to the sheets right now. Smoothing the mess of his hair out of his forehead, you lean in to press another soft kiss to the clammy skin there, and you’re relieved to see him calm, relaxing back into a deep sleep.

Food.

The cavity inside of you aches from the emptiness, and it’s loud and insistent enough to take precedence over the ache of your muscles, and the bruises he’s left all over your body like a lover’s lipstick.

There’s an old Korn shirt folded up beside your pillow that most definitely wasn’t there when you fell asleep—you figure Bo must have left it there for you. You don’t bother to go and find your bra, pulling the soft-worn shirt over your head like a trophy.

Damn.

It’s been a long time since you’ve worn someone else’s clothes, and you relish the way it feels against your skin.

No sense in bothering with bottoms—the shirt is long enough that you’ve worn dresses shorter than it—and you doubt Bo will complain if he’s got easy access when he does wake up.

Especially if he comes downstairs to find you fixing the two of you some breakfast.

He laid down a few ground rules before you fell asleep in his arms last night—you could help yourself to anything in the kitchen as long as you made enough to share, but under no circumstances were you to go in the basement or to go outside without him.

You’d made fun of him about his Mysterious Basement, and something strange flashed across his eyes before he explained that there was a lot of dangerous old equipment down there that he didn’t want messed with—and that the locals are not the friendliest with outsiders, so it’s just best that you don’t go tryin’ to explore the town without him.

He didn’t need to explain himself to you, though—you’re plenty happy to follow his rules since he’s kind enough to let you stay with him after shit hit a boiling point with Tasha and her annoying little boytoy.

It was her that wanted him to come along after all—but all he’d done was bother you.

She had the fucking nerve to be mad at you for it.

You look forward to stopping in to see Bo every time you make your bi-monthly road trip, but yesterday you’d hoped that reminding Tasha, and Corey, of your crush on Bo would get them both to lay off—but Corey pushed you over the edge.

Maybe Tasha was right—maybe you are putting yourself in unnecessary danger; Bo is still technically a stranger to you, after all—you don’t even know his last name.

But if you’d stayed, you couldn’t guarantee that you’d behave—at least this way you could stay in a house with someone you want to trust—rather than getting kicked out on the side of the road after you inevitably wiped that smirk off of Corey’s face.

You don’t think of yourself as particularly violent—but there’s only so far you can be pushed before something snaps in you, and you know it—it’s just safer for everyone if you stay here with Bo until Tasha can come back without him.

But none of that’s important right now.

Now the pressing issue is getting yourself acquainted with his kitchen—first thing’s first—you’d better get it cleaned up before you start digging around for ingredients. It feels a little tacky to get cooking and then only wash what you used when he’s got so much lying around.

Ooh, better start coffee too, you might need it by the time you’re done cleaning up.

It’s not that you’re judging—you’ve seen worse messes in the college dorms, to be honest—but he never did discuss any kind of rent for your stay, so the least you can do is take care of this much.

You’re washing up the last of the mugs when the sound of the kitchen door startles you, and an equally taken aback man stands in the doorway, staring at you with wide eyes that you’re sure match your own.

Bo didn’t tell you anyone else was supposed to show up, but the sheer confusion on the man’s face at the sight of you suggests he’s actually supposed to be here.

“Hey,” you force yourself to start talking, very much wishing you had bothered to find your shorts. “Uh…I’m a—guest—of Bo’s.” You’re suddenly very aware of all the bruises on your body, and you hope to god the man has the decency not to mention them.

You hold your still-soapy hand out for him to shake, and he accepts it a bit awkwardly.

“Blink twice if you’re here against your will.”

For a moment he looks serious, but at the look of utter confusion on your face, he breaks into a wide grin and an easy laugh that makes you feel a whole lot better.

“I’m just foolin’ wit’cha.” He drops his duffel bag to the ground, taking a seat at the table as he studies you. “So you’re Bo’s mysterious girlfriend—heard a lot about you—wasn’t sure you actually existed.”

“Not sure I’d use that word quite yet.” You offer an awkward laugh, turning back to the sink to hopefully hide the way the thought of being something more than just a convenient Fuck Buddy to Bo makes you blush.

“Bo would.” He grins, seeming to relish your discomfort. “Name’s Lester—I’m the baby brother.”

“Nice to meet you.” You smile at him, tugging the hem of your borrowed shirt. “I didn’t know Bo had brothers.” Of course, you don’t actually know very much about Bo to begin with.

“Yeah, there’s two of us—Vincent is Bo’s twin, but uh—I don’t know if you’ll see him any time soon.” Lester squints, squeezing his lips together like he’s suddenly not sure exactly how much he’s supposed to tell you—given Bo apparently hasn’t bothered to fill you in on much of anything.

“Why not? Is he away?” Your brow furrows; it’s really none of your business—but he seemed to offer the information readily enough.

“Vin’s shy—he’s one a’ them reclusive artist types.” He drums his fingers on the table. “He’s real talented though; got a lot a’ work down in our Momma’s ol’ Wax Museum.”

Your eyes light up, and suddenly you find yourself forgetting to be self-conscious. “No kidding; I saw the outside of the Museum when Bo drove me up here, but I haven’t been in.”

His eyes narrow on you, his expression becoming ever-so-slightly hesitant—you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t spent so much time studying body language over the years. “Just how much of the town have you seen?”

“Not a thing,” you admit. “I’ve only ever stopped by to see Bo—and last night he said he doesn’t want me going down into town without him.”

“Oh.” Lester nods slowly, like things are falling into place for him. “Okay, that makes sense.”

You’re about to open your mouth to ask more questions, when Lester perks up. “Hey, you’re the one always bringin’ Bo snacks and stuff—did I interrupt you gettin’ ready to cook breakfast?”

There it is.

“I was just getting the dishes out of the way before I start looking at ingredients.” You dry your hands off on your shirt. “Bo said I could help myself to the kitchen as long as I made enough to share.”

“Oh, so now he’s all about sharing,” Lester huffs, and you can’t help grinning at the way his arms cross like a petulant child. “Greedy bastard won’t let anyone else try the goodies you bring him.” He does his best to look all big and mean and grumpy, and you snort when you realize he’s doing an impression of Bo. “She made it for me—get your own girl.”

“Oh he didn’t,” you laugh. “That’s so rude.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’!” He throws his hands up into the air. “So—you want me to help you find anything? That oughta earn me a seat at the table, right?”

“Sure, Lester.” You smile at him, crossing your arms playfully as you picture Bo hoarding your gifts and calling you his girl. “I’ll bake some muffins if we’ve got the stuff for them—that’s a sharing food.”

“Wow, you are sweet.” He pulls over a chair to climb on, getting a better vantage point to peruse the cabinets. “The hell are you doin’ wit’ Bo?”

“Well, he’s been sweet to me.”

“Sure as hell have,” Bo grumbles, wandering into the kitchen in nothing but boxers and socks.

Your chest tightens at the sight of him, thinking about what Lester had said. “I made coffee—Lester was just helping me find the ingredients I need to make a batch of muffins.”

His expression softens, and he sidles up real close to you, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “Coffee, fresh baked muffins, and a pretty girl gettin’ it for me—man could get used to that.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist. “There’s a can ‘a pumpkin in the third cabinet over.”

That’ll occupy Lester for a second; long enough for Bo to lift your shirt up for a quick peek—relishing the marks he’d left on your body—evidence that may as well spell out ‘Bo Sinclair Was Here’. He chuckles when you cover yourself back up at breakneck speed—pleased that he’s the only one you’re eager to go showin’ off for.

He takes a step closer, pinning you between the kitchen counter and his large frame—he relishes the way your hands splay across his chest when he presses a less than innocent kiss under your ear. “Sorry I forgot to tell you we ain’t alone on Laundry Day,” he whispers, his hot breath washing over your ear before he teases you terribly with a lascivious nip. “Otherwise I’d take you right fuckin’ now.”

“Still in the room,” Lester groans in mock irritation, tossing the can of pumpkin at Bo.

He’s fast as lightning when he turns to catch it, and annoyance flashes across his face. “Hey dumbass, you could’a hit her.”

“Oh no way,” Lester laughs. “You wouldn’ta let your girlfriend get hit.” He mocks Bo with an exaggerated show of over the top kissy noises, and Bo whips the can back at him.

“I’m gonna hit you if you keep runnin’ yer damn mouth!” Bo makes the sourest damn expression you’ve ever seen—not unlike a kid in full-tantrum mode—before he picks up Lester’s duffel bag and tosses it to him—a little more gently. “Go do your fuckin’ laundry—shit’s stinkin’ up the place.”

“Oh because roadkill is so much worse than motor oil.” Lester rolls his eyes, but ducks when Bo grabs a mug out of the dish strainer. “It was nice to meet you!” He shoots you one last smile before running off into some other part of the house.

“You guys are such brothers—”

You’re cut off by Bo’s lips on yours, and you gasp when he picks you up and sets your ass down right on the kitchen counter. “Sorry,” he grunts, not sounding remotely sorry. “Couldn’t wait any longer.”

“Bo!” You shriek, weaving your fingers into his hair when he pushes his way between your thighs, his hot tongue dragging through your folds and across your clit.

Your pussy is still sore and swollen from the absolute punishment it took from him last night, so you’re already overstimulated when he slips a finger inside, growling like an animal as he sucks on your clit.

You can’t help squeezing your thighs together around his head, and apparently that was the wrong move, because his mouth leaves your clit in order to bite down hard on the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

He grins when he hears you yelp.

He leans back, taking a good eyeful of you sat up on the counter, your face flushed with need—for him—with only one of his old shirts for modesty. He sees something in your eyes that he’s never been able to simply take from the victims he’s had before.

You want him, and there ain’t a lick of shame in your eyes about it.

He rubs the already bruising spot where he’d bitten you with a careful tenderness, and you hum. “God, you’re just so damn good for me.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. You’ve spent exactly one night here—he knows it’s not the time to be laying it on so thick. You ain’t like the other girls—you still like him by choice—he doesn’t want to fuck that up by letting you know just how much of an effect you have on him. How much he’s fixated on you from the very beginning.

He doesn’t want to give you that kind of power over him—he can’t afford to give you a knife to twist.

But God help him, there you go twisting it anyway.

He’d been so caught up in his own head that he hadn’t noticed your soft hands creeping up to cup his cheeks—fuck—you always look so fuckin’ sweet when you hold him tender and look into his eyes.

He’s terrified you’re gonna look right into his soul, and that you won’t like what you see.

“Wanna be your good girl,” you whisper, your lips ghosting his before you take his bottom lip between your teeth.

“Oh Sugar,” he groans, moving his hand between you to rub your clit—taking back at least a little control. “You got no idea what you’re doin’ to me.”

You whimper so sweet against his lips, and he drinks it all in. He kisses the corner of your mouth, the curve of your jaw, your throat—lower and lower until he’s once again settled between your legs.

You deserve this. So good for him. The longer he can keep you dumb for his touch the longer he can keep you here and drag out the illusion that he’s the man you want, the man who makes your heart flutter with something other than fear.

Two fingers—you’re already wet enough that he ain’t bothering with just one—curl against the sweet spot inside of you, and your hands are back in his hair as you squirm in his grasp.

“Want you to look at me,” he growls against your clit, before his tongue darts back out to trace his full name.

God.

There’s a desperate hunger in your eyes when they meet his, and he knows that the tears of pleasure pricking at your lashes are all for him.

“Fuck, Bo,” you whine, wriggling your hips against his face. “Gonna cum.”

“Come on, Baby,” he grunts. “Le’me have it.”

He’s utterly transfixed by the way you try to keep your eyes open when you lose control of your body—like you want to see the man between your legs as he laps up your sweet juices.

It’s a big fuckin’ ego boost, and it goes straight to his head.

Suddenly, he’s standing, looming over you and wrapping a hand around your throat while the other keeps on pettin’ your sweet pussy.

“Bo, please,” you whine, your thighs trembling from the overstimulation. “It’s too much.”

“Bo, please,” he teases you, though he gives you a break long enough to pull his cock free from his boxers, sliding it through your slick before smacking you a couple good times against the clit. “You want this cock, honey?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders while your eyes fixate on where the head of his cock just barely dips into you.

“Words, Sugar,” he insists, the hand on your throat moving to cup your jaw to force you to look him in the eyes. Mistake. His heart flutters at the look of utter need you give him. “You want more than just the tip, you're gonna have to remember your manners.”

“Please, Bo,” you beg, your lip quivering pathetically as you try to will your pretty little head to form thoughts. “Need to feel you inside me.”

Need.

He can’t help himself from sinking into you—‘Need’ feels like a good word when he’s buried deep in the warmth of your sex. He kisses you hard, and he knows damn well his grip on your jaw is gonna bruise—but as long as you keep clinging to him for dear life and moaning so pretty in his mouth he can’t be bothered to care. His tongue traces the curve of your lips, before plunging past your teeth to dance against your own.

“You like tastin’ yourself on me, Sweetheart?”

You nod, stealing another kiss like you can’t help yourself before deigning to speak. “Fuck, Bo, yes.”

One of your hands snakes around to squeeze his throat, and the growl that escapes him is nothing short of feral.

For a split second, he’s enraged that you’d fuckin’ dare, but the manic lust on your face as you choke him is so damn hot he nearly busts right there.

Instead, he pulls out of you, ripping himself from your grasp. You let out a ragged moan from the loss of contact, but he doesn’t give you enough time to be disappointed before grabbing you by the back of the neck and slamming you face down against the table, giving your ass a good hard smack with his free hand.

God damn you’re a filthy slut—wriggling your ass back against him like you’re desperate for it.

Lucky for you, you’re not the only one who’s nasty.

He rams his cock back into your heat, his grip on your neck still forcing your face down into the table as he chases his release like a beast in rut.

He growls in your ear, more animal than man, before taking the lobe between his teeth. “You’re mine, you fuckin’ hear me?”

“Bo!” You shriek, the coil at the core of your pleasure threatening to snap.

“Say you know you’re fuckin’ mine,” he growls. “‘I’m yours, Bo.’” His other hand slips around you to palm your clit roughly, too roughly. “Say. It.”

“I’m YOURS,” you all but sob as you come undone around his cock, body all alight from the too-intense pleasure.

He’s not far behind—his thrusts become erratic, and he doesn’t even care about dragging it out any longer as he explodes inside of you, panting like a dog against your shoulder as your bodies melt into shuddering spasms.

“Damn fuckin’ right.”

He allows himself to slump back into one of the kitchen chairs, dragging you with him with his cock still inside you.

You take his hand to your lips and kiss his knuckles. His heart lurches in his chest.

“Fuck, Bo.” You lean your head back against his shoulder, smiling at him with that blissed out and dumb look on your face. “That’s one way to work up an appetite.”

His hand snakes up to squeeze your titty through his old shirt as he laughs, burying his face in your shoulder.

He can hardly fucking believe you’re real.

[phoenixcatch7]

I'd love to make one of those mdzs/tgcf watch the series/books things with a hand waved deus ex machina cause but at the very end it abruptly cuts to the system wistfully reminiscing on past jobs while Sqq squints suspiciously.

Alternately I'd LOVE to see the Harry Potter timeline the system canonically ran, which undoubtedly ended in drarry.