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bratbby333 · 2 months

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i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, extreme dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it.

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again.

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be.

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her.

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area.

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit.

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love.

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to.

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces.

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine.

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get.

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away.

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you.

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you.

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf.

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month.

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening.

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well.

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease.

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text:

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours.

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text:

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks.

“What is it?” your coworker asked.

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face.

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries.

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now.

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony.

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head.

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner.

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest.

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks.

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you.

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?”

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life.

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting?

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room.

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.”

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue.

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.”

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you.

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy.

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote.

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him.

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand.

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him.

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment.

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage.

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.”

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening.

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex.

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch.

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most.

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you.

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours.

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

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trippinsorrows · 10 days

Text

with me + part fifteen

authors note: i hope everyone has recovered from the last chapter! just remember, there's, typically, light at the end of the tunnel!

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: violence, angst, language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 7k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns

Alexis is going to jail.

She’s accepted as such and doesn't really care about that as much as she's curious about what the charges will be. Aggravated assault. Attempted murder. Actual murder. It’s all up in the air, each a very much real possibility.

Truth be told, she’s wanted to put the paws on Mariah for years. And not even because Mariah has done anything outright, not close to this level anyways. It was just something about her that screamed fake and inauthentic. However, she recognized what friendship and loyalty meant to you, and while you’d mentioned a few arguments over the years, nothing was major enough for her to act on her violent urges.

Now though?

Now, she’s ready to rain fire.

She doesn’t give a flying fuck about traffic laws, well exceeding every speed limit she zooms through in order to make it to Mariah’s house. It’s an address that wasn’t too hard to find. Google is such a wonderful thing. She would have asked you for that information, but she also wants you as separate from what she’s about to do as possible. Especially with DCFS in the midst of an active investigation.

Just thinking about it pisses her off even more. It’s one thing to call DCFS on someone who’s arguably one of the best parents on this fucking earth, but it’s another to accuse said parents of the things Mariah accused you.

It’s unforgivable.

It’s also why Alexis won’t feel somewhat content until she spills Mariah’s blood. Pulling up into the driveway behind the parked Camry, Alexis shuts off the car, reaches for the bat in the passenger seat and slams the door behind her as she marches up the three steps to the front door. Her fists immediately start banging on the door. “Open the door, hoe!” More banging. “I know you in there! Come outside so I can crack ya’ fucking head open!”

Alexis isn’t stupid. She knows no one with common sense would open the door to anyone yelling such things. Cue: the bat.

Moving across the porch, Alexis doesn’t hesitate to give a solid swing to the window, effectively cracking it. The second blow is the one, however, that shatters it. She kicks through the remnants and proceeds to climb in.

With a possible element of surprise, Alexis opts to remain quiet, looking around the living room. She’s tempted to smash the TV but decides against it, as she’d much rather save her strength for blows against Mariah’s body.

Moving throughout the house, she’s lucky enough for the first door she kicks open to reveal her victim.

But Mariah isn’t alone.

In a pleasant surprise. Alexis just so happens to walk in on Mariah receiving backshots from a man who quickly stumbles and looks back over his shoulder at her entrance. Alexis immediately recognizes him.

Amir.

“Now ain’t this about a bitch!” Alexis' smile is wild and crazed as she watches Amir stumble to cover himself, Mariah’s eyes also wide with horror and shock as she holds the sheet to her chest. “A two for one special. My lucky fucking day.”

“What the hell?” Amir has managed to pull his boxers on and is standing near the bed, close to Mariah in an almost protective manner. Like that’ll keep her safe from Alexis' wrath. “Alexis? What the fuck are you doing?”

“I would ask ya’ll niggas the same thing, but ain’t no sense in stating the obvious.” She motions between the two of them with her steel bat. “How long?”

Mariah screams, the fear in her voice and eyes music to Alexis soul. “Get out of my house!”

“Oh, Imma leave, but not until you’re unconscious.” She looks toward Amir. “And if you try to get in my way, Imma knock your ass out too.” Alexis' hands are rated E for everyone. She fights females and males with equal smoke. “Now, I’m not gon’ ask again, how long have ya’ll been fucking behind Y/N’s back?”

Truth be told, Alexis wouldn’t trust a single word out of either of their mouths, but she’s curious. The answer regardless will aid in the intensity of her beating.

Amir is the first to ‘answer’. “I don’t owe Y/N shit. She’s not my girl.” As if he has a right to be upset, he continues, anger painting his face. “I tried, but she chose to be with that nigga.”

“And will every single mother fucking time because unlike you, he’s actually worth something and deserves her. Not like you two snakes.” It’s the fact that Amir thinks that he’s been done wrong in some way that blows her mind. He might be as delusional as the bitch he was just fucking. “I’m tired of talking. Get the fuck out my way, so I can knock this hoe’s head off.”

It’s when Alexis takes a step toward the bed that Amir extends his arm out, “wait, before you do this—”

“Do you even know what she did?” Alexis demands, grip on the bat tightening as she remembers holding you as you cried into her over having your child ripped away from you. The fear in Callie’s eyes. It enrages her all over again. “Ask the bitch! Go on, ask her!”

Amir is still understandably cautious and pissed at this intrusion, but his gaze still falls on Mariah. “What is she talking about?”

Mariah pauses and shakes her head, stuttering. “I–I don’t know. She’s–she’s crazy.”

“She’s a liar!” Alexis shouts, explaining to Amir. “She called DCFS on Y/N and made up all kind of lies!” She juggs the bat in the direction of that slime. “They took Callie away from Y/N because of her!”

It seems like there’s a sudden shift that Alexis recognizes as the tide gradually turning. She still thinks Amir is a piece of shit, but it does count for a tiny something that he looks absolutely disgusted by this revelation. His eyes narrow at Mariah. “You did what?” Mariah’s face gives away her guilt as he demands, “what the hell is wrong with you? Why would you do that!”

Clearly adept at deviating, Mariah attempts to redirect the focus. “You really gon’ believe this bitch over me!”

Alexis laughs, throwing her head back. She’s really going to enjoy breaking this bitch jaw.

Amir seems heated now. Again, not that Alexis really cares. He’s not much better than this hoe in her book. “You got her child taken away from her, Mariah! What part of that do you not understand is fucked up! You’ve gone too fucking far!”

“If Callie got taken away, then she should have been doing a better job making sure her kid was straight instead of chasing a married around like a desperate who—”

Alexis lunges, literally lunges, across the room before Mariah can even finish her sentence. There’s a sickening crack that enters the air when her fist collides with Mariah’s nose. Mariah’s cry is sounded out by Alexis snatching her by her hair and banging her head into the headboard. “Say it, bitch! Say it so I can knock ya fucking teeth out your mouth.”

“Get off me!” Mariah screams, but it’s no use, Alexis blows are powerful and focused, knuckles burning from the impact with bone, not that it makes a difference to her. She’s only seeing and hearing red.

“I been wanted to stomp your hoe ass!” And Alexis does just that, dragging and tossing Mariah onto the floor and stomping her feet into Mariah’s side.

Mariah is crying like a little bitch, screaming, “help me!”

But Amir does nothing, just stands there watching as Alexis rains blow on top of blow, kick on top of kick to the broad he was just balls deep in minutes ago. It speaks volumes of his character, not that that was much to behold anyway.

However, it’s when she cries out again, “we got a fucking son together, Amir!”

This actually takes Alexis by surprise as she realizes what Mariah just said. She knows the bitch has a son, but she also knows this woman is married. Though estranged, still married. Is…..is Amir the biological father of her son? Has she really been messing with Amir long enough for him to possibly father her baby?

Is that why she’s estranged from her husband?

That’s a whole other layer that adds to the betrayal. Alexis starts mixing on Mariah again, ignoring the splatter of blood on her fists and the possibility that her child might be just a room or two away.

At least she still has her kid.

“That’s enough.” Amir’s voice finally sounds from behind her, but Alexis is in the zone. She’s not letting up off this hoe. “Alexis, that’s enough!” And then he makes the cardinal mistake of trying to interfere, reaching to pull her off Mariah. Instantly, Alexis reaches behind and lands her fist against his face.

“Fuck!” He calls out. Alexis grabs the bat, swinging it across his knee. Amir cries out and falls on his back, cradling his knee. “You crazy bitch!”

“That’s right, I’m the crazy bitch that’s gon come back and fuck both ya’ll asses up again if you ever in your life try Y/N!” Alexis realizes Mariah is on the verge of losing consciousness, so she ensures she grabs her by her raggedy tracks. “You stay the hell away from her, you hear me? You even so much as utter her name, utter Callie’s name, and I’mma put you six feet under!” A final stomp to Mariah’s jaw is the last thing she sees before being knocked unconscious.

Breathing heavy, Alexis looks around, pleased with her carnage only to see Amir starting to stand up, knee obviously fucked up. “I didn’t—I didn’t know.”

Alexis marches over to him and punches him square in his nose, satisfied with the crunch sound that follows. He curses loudly, hands over his nose that’s started to spurt out blood.

“Bitch ass nigga,” she mutters, taking one final survey of the room and walking out, pleased with the results. She suddenly feels so much better, hungry but deeply satisfied. Curious, she asks a groaning Amir.

“Ya’ll got a McDonald’s in this town?”

—---------

The knock on the door is probably the first thing to make you feel anything in hours. You’ve just laid on the bed all day, staring at the empty wall across the room. The apartment is quiet. It’s never quiet.

Not since you first brought Callie home from the hospital. You miss her giggles, her loud singing, the patterning of her feet as she runs into your room, jumping on the bed, rambling about the most random of things.

You wished that her being with your mom and not some random family would provide more comfort than it does, but as soon as you try to find some relief in that, your mind goes towards why she’s with your mom and the fact that you are legally barred from speaking to and interacting with the child you birthed and have raised since she first entered this world.

That’s when the tears come. You’re not sure there’s many left to be honest.

So, a knock on the door is the closest thing you have to hope, hope that someway, somehow, someone with enough pull was able to make all of this go away, make this nightmare of a reality a thing of fiction.

Running to the front door, that hope is both dashed yet sustained when you rip it open.

Turns out you’re wrong, there are definitely more tears left.

“Joe…”

You’re not sure who makes the move first, probably him, because the moment his eyes land on you, his expression softens into something sympathetic.

He’s holding the back of your head as you cry into his chest, comforting you. And then it hits you. You pull away, holding onto his shirt, “did you see her? H-how is she?”

You made sure to emphasize that Joe needed to check in on Callie before coming to see you, not that it was something he needed to be told. You’re certain his first and foremost priority was checking in on Callie.

He wipes at your eyes. “She’s okay.” It’s a safe answer, one that’s probably both partially and impartially true. How okay can she be in a situation like this? His response is more for your comfort than anything, you’re sure. “I got her down for bed before I left.” His eyes give you a one over. “When’s the last time you ate something?”

You’re certain you must look a mess. You also don’t care about that. You don’t really care about much to be honest.

Still, it’s a valid question that takes you a second to contemplate. “I–I don’t know.” And before he can say something further, you inform, “I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something.”

“No, I–what I need is to start getting this place together.” Pulling away from him, sniffling and wiping at your eyes, you motion around your apartment. “They’re doing the home inspection tomorrow.”

In between tears and depression, you’d received formal notice regarding the home visit where they’d evaluate the environment to ensure its appropriateness for a child as well as your emergency court date.

Joe’s gaze is on you and lazily scans the room that’s more or less spotless. “It looks fine, Y/N.”

“Fine isn’t good enough, Joe,” your voice is firmer, a hint of irritation. “It has to be perfect so they can—” Without even realizing what’s happening, another unexpected set of tears arrives, your voice cracking. “—so they can give my baby back to me.”

He guides you back into his chest, comforting you as the next set of waterworks overcomes you. You’ve always hated crying, always found it irritating because it was hard to control, even harder to stop. This is all of those things.

“I can’t believe she would—would do this to me.” That’s the part you still can’t wrap around. How could you not see what kind of person Mariah was? You’ve always thought you were a good judge of character. This was Callie’s legal godmother for fucks sake. “Do you know what she said about me? What she said I was going to do—” Your mouth watering and stomach twisting alerts you to what’s about to come, and you dash away from him to the bathroom where you fall to your knees, vomiting into the toilet.

Joe is behind you not even minutes later, hand on the small of your back as you cry over that same toilet. There’s a level of appreciation for him being here with you in this moment, but it still doesn’t wholly ease that dull ache in your chest.

Getting cleaned up, Joe doesn’t take no for an answer when he says that he’s going to make you something to eat and you’re going to eat. Deep down, you know he’s right. Not only are you teetering on sleep deprivation, but the lack of food in your system is eventually going to take a toll. And you need to be at your absolute best the next few days.

However, even with his delicious cooking and emotional support, it’s not enough to keep your emotions at bay because you end up right back at that toilet, depositing everything you just tried to consume.

You just feel so off, so incomplete, because you are.

Because you don’t know you’re supposed to proceed without your child. How you’re supposed to proceed and act like your world hasn’t been turned upside down, like you’re not in a position where you have to prove that you’re a fit parent.

Something you could have never imagined you’d be having to prove. This whole situation, nightmare, has pushed you so much farther in the direction of wanting to move.

Mariah’s play has stolen your sense of security in this town, the place you’ve always called home. It feels like you’ll never be able to feel comfortable again so long as she’s also a resident. Blocking her on all platforms isn’t enough. You don’t want her to have any access to you or Callie whatsoever.

And that can only be done with moving.

A small part of you considers talking with Joe about you and Callie staying at his place in Florida for the time being until you find a house. And you hate that, the idea of uprooting your and Callie’s life so suddenly. Not even being able to stay until the end of the school year, not being able to give your students the proper time to transition and adjust to your departure.

But you have to think about your family, your child, and what’s best for her.

It's starting to become more and more clear that the best thing you can do at this point is leave.

If not the only thing. ________

“She finally sleep?”

After treating herself to McDonalds, Alexis casually reached out to her legal team to let them know she could be facing a couple of charges and to be ready to bail her out once the warrant was issued. They were already fast ahead in working towards a plan to get said charges dismissed, so she's honestly not concerned at all.

And even if they aren’t dismissed, she doesn't mind.

She’d do it all over again if she had to.

So, after getting cleaned up and settling her affairs, she headed back over to the apartment to check on you. Alexis wasn’t surprised to find you still heavily upset, but the physical sickness was hard to watch. She’s so grateful that you listened to her and called Joe. She can’t imagine you going through this without his support.

“I got her to agree to take Benadryl.” Joe’s eyes are focused on the island as he sits down at the barstool and leans back. Alexis hasn’t been around Joe a ton, but that’s not needed to tell he’s a myriad of emotions right now, primarily anger. He adds, clearly concerned, “she can’t keep anything down.”

“She’s a wreck,” Alexis says as kindly as she can, because it’s the ugly truth. She’s always known you to be so calm and composed. This is anything but. Yes, there were a couple moments where you lost your temper. But post Callie? You’ve been the textbook definition of what it looks like to be a picture of calmness in a storm.

Now….now you’re just a disaster.

Not that a single soul could blame you.

“How is Callie? Like, really?” Alexis isn’t sure if asking him this right now is the right move, but she’s genuinely curious. She’d take a bet that he played it down for the sake of your current mental state.

“Confused. Sad as hell. Doesn’t know why the fuck she’s just been ripped from her mother for no reason.” His anger is palpable and completely understandable.

Alexis listens, working to control her own anger. Mariah’s beating wasn’t good enough. “It’s fucked up. That’s for sure.”

His jaw is clenched as she states, boldly, “I’ve gotta get them out of this damn town.”

Alexis looks at him, partially not following his statement. “Aren’t they already moving to live with you?

“Yes, at the end of the summer, but that’s not soon enough.” She hears what he’s saying, but she isn’t quite sure about the realistic aspect of what he clearly wants at this point. “I need them out of here now.”

Alexis takes a second before responding, not wanting to further upset him. Typically, she doesn’t give two shits about how her words are perceived, but this is an entirely different situation. “You’re not wrong, Joe, but Y/N can’t just up and leave—”

“We don’t have much of a fucking choice, Alexis.” His tone, if not for the current circumstances, would be completely unacceptable. He’s talking to her like she’s a child, but Alexis knows emotions are high, so she sets aside her pride. “I don’t want that bitch anywhere near them.”

Careful with her words, she counters calmly, “you know there’s a chance Y/N's not going to like that.”

Alexis knows you, and knows that you like order. You’d want to properly close out the year, have time to say goodbye. Then again, after something like this, she’s not actually 100% sure where you’d stand on moving sooner than initially planned.

Joe then brings up a valid point. “It’s not about what she likes and doesn’t like. It’s about Calista and what’s best for her.” He’s not wrong, Alexis won’t deny him that. “Mariah is fucking psychotic, and I’m not taking any more chances with her pulling anymore shit like this. I’ve already contacted my lawyers to see what options we have there.”

Joe lawyering up makes all the sense in the world. It’s probably the smartest decision for him and Y/N, which is why she’s so grateful she stopped you from catching an unnecessary charge. “I can beat her ass again once she gets released from the hospital. It was quite therapeutic actually.” Alexis is slightly pleased to hear Joe chuckle at her words, even if she’s being completely honest. “I’ll tell you this, but don’t tell Y/N. She’s got enough she’s dealing with.”

Joe is quick to assert. “I don’t like keeping things from her.”

Ignoring his counter, Alexis supplies, “Mariah was fucking Amir when I got there. Like, I literally caught them in bed.”

As expected, Joe looks taken back, “what?”

She nods and adds, “but that’s not it. When the stupid bitch was begging for him to help her, she said they have a son together.” Lowering her voice in case you somehow fought the powers of Benadryl, she concludes, “I think Amir is the biological father of her kid,”

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters. Joe is suddenly wishing he acted upon impulse instead of logic and beat the shit out of Amir that night he had the chance. That bastard really was a scumbag. He’s also partially wishing he’d tagged along with Mariah. Joe would never put his hands on a woman, but Amir? He’d be laid out in the hospital just like Mariah is. “Just how long have they been messing around?”

“Long enough for her to get knocked up by him.” She shakes her head, trying to settle the growing anger. “God, I hate her ass. Him too, but definitely her. How do you just fuck your best friend’s ex like that? When you know she’s fucking him too? Fuckin nasty ass hoe.”

He won’t disagree, sharing, “you probably already know this, but Mariah used to mess with Randy Orton, and he'd said she ended up being clingy and crazy when he broke it off.”

“Really?” Alexis remembers you mentioning to her that Mariah was sleeping with a wrestler around the same time you first got with Joe but nothing about how it ended. “That lines up.”

“I never really paid much attention to it, because she wasn’t relevant to me, and Orton was an ass back in the day, so I took it with a grain of salt.” A heavy frown appears on his handsome face. “Clearly, that was a mistake.”

Realizing what’s happening, she shakes her head. “Oh my god. Not you too.” She jumps into her therapist mode, nearly repeating exactly what she’d said to you this morning. “This is no one’s fault except for Mariah. Not yours. Not Y/N’s, just that raggedy hoe.”

Joe tries his best to heed to Alexis’s advice. “You’ve never liked her, right?” Alexis nods aggressively. “Why?”

“I always felt like she was jealous of Y/N. Like….she benefited way more from her friendship with Y/N than Y/N did. When we were in college, Y/N was popular and well liked, and I get the sense that that’s always been the case. Mariah clearly benefited from that, so the jealousy wasn’t as bad, not enough for Y/N to notice it anyway.” Alexis starts to speculate, though she feels it’s more fact than hypothesis. “But then you come back in the picture, and the tide turns. Y/N gets the guy, the kid, the happy family. And then on top of all that, homegirl finally gets exposed, so Y/N, rightfully, cuts her off. But psycho-riah wasn’t having that.”

Laying it all out like that makes sense to both Joe and Alexis. It’s obvious Mariah is disturbed, because only a person not right in the head would do what she’s done. All of the things she’s done. But maybe it never got this bad because she and Y/N were always around the same level, both living in this small ass town, just raising their kids.

Then he came in the picture, and she got jealous.

It makes sense.

It also pisses him the fuck off.

“This probably isn’t the right time to ask this, but I’m gonna do it anyway, because you never know when my warrant is gonna become active.” There’s such a casualness and nonchalant manner regarding how Alexis refers to her pending arrest, like it’s not that big a deal. And for her, it really isn’t. She knows her lawyers will most likely have her out on bond and charges dropped or dismissed by the end of the week. Hence her prying. “But just when in the hell do you plan to propose to Y/N?”

It’s definitely a 180 in topics that Joe wasn’t expecting, especially when she continues.

“I know it’s gotta be coming soon, because it’s obvious you love the mess out of her and want to be with her forever, but when, sir? Don’t be having my girl out here as a glorified girlfriend for too long, cause I don’t care how big you are, you can catch that Mariah Edition beating right along with her.” Joe smiles, shaking his head. It’s a much needed break from all the heaviness of the day. “And you best not get her knocked up again before it happens.” She considers her words and retracts. “Then again, ya’ll both freaky as hell and fuck like rabbits, so maybe that one is a stretch.”

With a casual shrug, Joe goes for his response. “Who says I don’t al—”

“Wait. Don’t say anything.” She interrupts, hands up as if remembering something. “I suck at keeping secrets, and I’m sure you’re gonna go all out for the proposal, so don’t tell me shit.” She nods, as if trying to convince herself that this is the safest and best route. “Just make sure I get an invite to the wedding. Then again, I’ll just show up anyway regardless.”

He has zero doubt she won’t.

But while Alexis' random tangent brings about brief relief, his mind easily switches back to the major issue at hand.

“You know I’m right, Lex.” He looks at her, again reiterating, “they can’t stay here.” It’s in expressing her theory about Mariah aloud that helps Alexis realize Joe’s even more valid in his stance than she thought. “I can’t have this happen again. Y/N and Callie can’t have this happen again especially. They’re both a mess.” He looks down, jaw clenching. “I can’t see them go through this again.”

There’s no desire or basis to argue. Alexis can’t imagine how difficult this must be for him as well. To see all this happening, to see the two people he loves the most be in pain and not be able to do anything about it.

It’s gotta be torture.

She finally settles on a simple, basic answer. “You’re right.”

Joe is quiet for a few moments, expression indicating he’s searching and trying to navigate something. Alexis watches as he suddenly pulls out his phone, typing hurriedly. She figures he's sending a text to someone when he finally says, “I need you to do something for me.”

There’s not a second of hesitation. “Consider it done.”

“Good.” He doesn’t waste any time, recognizing every moment that passes is precious. “How quickly can you get a flight out to Florida?”

________

Before agreeing to take the tiny pink pill of sleep damnation, you made Joe promise to wake you up at 7am sharp. The home inspection was scheduled for 3pm, but you have something you need to do before then.

And Joe is true to his word, stirring you awake not a minute past 7.

Despite his protest and disagreement, you skip breakfast. It’s going on two days since you’ve actually had and retained a meal, but you can’t bring yourself to do so, your abs already sore from all the contractions that come with vomiting.

So, you settle on coffee and get to cleaning. Joe helps you, though there’s not much to be done, just little things that the average person wouldn’t pay much attention to. But, you’re not taking any risks. Your place needs to be as spotless as humanly possible.

And you need to look as good as you can, so you spend much more time than necessary in the shower, scrubbing your body clean, shaving every piece of hair that doesn’t need to be there. All very much over the top, but you don’t care. You need to feel prepared.

You even take on the daunting task of laying your mass of curls into a slick top bun. In your opinion, it’s always made you look ten times more professional. Even if it does take ten times as long to accomplish because of all your hair.

Still, worth it. Everything is worth it if it means having your daughter back in your custody.

It’s why you dig through your closet for the nicest set of business professional attire that you own, some nice dress pants and a white blouse that beautifully compliments your complexion.

The top has always been a little snug around your chest, which is expected, even if feeling a little tighter than usual.

What you don’t expect or need is to slide on said pants only to find out you can’t get them to snap. Even the jump and wiggle to better adjust it over your ass and thighs isn’t enough to secure the button.

You stand there for a moment, only briefly stumped. You’re realizing that one of your earlier assumptions before this whole mess was correct.

You’ve put on weight.

It was something you first started to notice when you looked again at the post Alexis made of you on your Instagram. You could see it a little in your face, but mostly your ass and thighs. Thankfully, you’ve always typically carried your weight in all the right places. And it isn’t anything too crazy, maybe something only you notice because you know your body better than anyone.

But, it’s enough to where your go-to pants no longer fit.

It’s not too concerning, especially with everything else you have going on. You’ve always yo-yo’d a bit with your weight and interestingly enough, the same happened in the months after your first meeting with Joe all those years ago.

“Happy weight,” you’re sure Alexis would call it.

Sliding them off, you settle on another pair, close to your favorites and a size bigger. They snap closed, and that little thing makes you feel instantly relieved.

It’s another thirty minutes before you finally exit the bedroom, face beat in neutral yet professional makeup. Joe moves from where he was texting on the sofa and approaches you.

Concern is etched in the crinkles around his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“No. I—I got this. Go—go spend the day with Callie.” Because I’d do anything to be able to do just that. “You probably shouldn’t even be here around me.”

It’s partially true. Joe isn’t even on Callie’s birth certificate, so as far as the law is concerned, you’re the only parent under investigation. Still, the irrational fear is strong that they’ll find some reason to add him to the investigation if they find out he’s been interacting with both you and Callie.

You can’t even think about what hell it would be if Joe was also barred from having any engagement with Callie.

You couldn’t handle it. Callie couldn’t handle it. And Joe wouldn’t stand for it. You know that for certain. He wouldn’t give a damn what the law stated.

“Yeah, that’s not fucking happening.” His dismissal is swift and firm. You have a feeling there isn’t a force on earth that could keep him from being with you right now. From being around Callie. “Are you sure you don’t want to try to eat something?”

Shaking your head, you explain. “No. I can’t risk vomiting again. I drank some Gatorade. I’ll be fine.” You don’t have a choice. Voice softening, you apologize again. “I’m so sorry about all of this. I had no idea she could ever—“

He stops you before you can get choked up. Joe's hands are on your face, comforting, “none of this is your fault, and I don’t blame you for anything. None of it.” His thumb brushes softly against your cheek. “But….but I do think we need to discuss moving up the move date for you and Callie.”

“I know.” You're certain he expected more of a push back from you, some level of argument, but he won’t find it. Mariah has taken that right away from you. “We—we can talk about it more later, okay?”

Understandably, he’s pleased and brings his hand to your hip, giving a gentle squeeze. “You should get going.” He’s right. The sooner you tackle this, the sooner you can focus on nailing this visitation.

He kisses your forehead, lips lingering as he murmurs, “I love you.”

You’ll never get tired of hearing those words leave his mouth, needing to hear them now more than ever. You’re so grateful for him and all he does. “I love you too.”

You’re grabbing your purse and keys off the key holder on the wall when he calls out your name.

“Mariah didn’t say anything to you before this, right? Outside of the exchange that day you told me about?” His question takes you by surprise, and he adds, probably not wanting you to feel like you’re on the witness stand. “My lawyers want to know if we can establish a paper trail.”

He’d mentioned reaching out to his legal team to see what recourse was available, but it isn’t something you’re overtly thrilled about. You understand where he’s coming from, but that’s not a route you’re sure you want to go down. Legal battles, from what you know, can get really ugly. And there’s a massive fear that somehow Callie will get dragged into the mess, forced to answer to lawyers and judges.

Your baby’s been traumatized enough already.

It’s why you decide on an answer that’s not the truth, but what you feel is best for your daughter. Once this is all said and done, you just want to put this all behind you and focus on your family.

Besides, there’s nothing else Mariah can do at this point, no lower she can stoop.

“No.” Even as it leaves your mouth, there’s a deep, nagging feeling that you’ve made the wrong decision not being honest with him. “She never said anything.”

—---------

“Is Dr. Sawyer available?”

Your voice is strong, firm, the exact opposite of everything you’ve felt over the past 48 hours. It’s a great display of fake confidence.

The receptionist looks up with a surprisingly friendly smile. “I’m sorry, do you have an appointment or—”

“I’m an old friend. I really need to talk to him. It’s, uhh, it’s an emergency.” It may be a bit of a stretch to call your desire to get some questions answered an emergency, but you’ll say and do whatever it takes to get Kai’s attention. “Tell him it’s Y/N.”

She asks you to give her a few minutes, and you decide to take a seat in the waiting area. Pulling out your phone, you text Joe to let him know you’ve made it here and ready to text your mom when you suddenly remember.

That’s been the other hard part of this debacle. Going through one of the hardest things you’ve ever endured and not being able to talk to your mom about it. If you had to choose between her guidance and your daughter being put under her care, you’d go with the latter every single time.

But that doesn’t take way the sadness you have at not being able to talk to your own mother.

“Y/N?”

Lifting your attention form your phone, you’re met with Kai Sawyer’s signature smile.

He looks both surprised and relieved to see you.

“Hi. I’m sorry to bother you—”

“No. Not a bother at all.” He sits down on the seat opposite of you, and given the only couple people in the ER are on the other side of the waiting room, you decide this is a safe place to talk. “I’m actually happy to see you Y/N.”

There’s something wary about his tone of voice, like he’s hinting at something he won’t outright say. That’s when you remember the sole reason Kai was even inserted into your life again, and it hits you. “DCFS spoke to you, didn’t they?”

It makes all the sense. Callie was rushed to the emergency room and had to undergo emergency surgery. You’re certain her medical records are also being reviewed, that kind of incident standing out to investigators.

Kai might be aware of the anxiety that’s starting to grow and proceeds to explain. “Yes, and I told them it was absolute bullshit.” His face takes on a look of disgust and irritation. “That it’s been years since I’ve seen a child so deeply connected and bonded with a parent like I saw with you and Callie. Her appendicitis and subsequent surgery was completely happenstance, and you did everything right.”

His words bring tears to your eyes. You know you’re a good mom and did the best you could that night, but it means a lot that Kai would defend you so staunchly who are trying to determine just that. “Thank you, Kai.”

“I didn’t say anything that was a lie.” His expression is sympathetic. “I’m really sorry this is happening to you, Y/N. Do you have any idea who made the call?”

“That’s actually why I’m here.” You blot at your eyes, not wanting to test the hold of this waterproof mascara. “Do you remember when you told me you were happy I got away from Mariah and Amir?”

“Yeah, why?” His eyes widen with shock. “Wait, did they—“

“It was Mariah.” Swallowing, there’s a bit of an edge in your voice as you explain. “That’s why I’m here. I need to know just who the hell I’ve called a best friend all these years, so much so that I made her Callie’s legal godmother.”

“Whoa, I thought—-you were still friends with her after all these years?” You shake your head yes, and he looks truly apologetic. “I’m sorry, I just thought—”

“That I’d been smarter? Yeah, me too.” Aside from depression and apathy, you’re struggling with beating yourself up for not recognizing sooner what kind of person Mariah truly is. How your oblivion could be strong. “Please, tell me what you know.”

He blows out a deep breath and leans back into the chair. “Well, I mean there’s no easy way to say this, but Mariah and Amir have been messing around since we were in high school.”

Your stomach drops.

That’s…..that’s not what you were expecting to hear.

In a whispered, pained voice, you ask, “what?”

He sighs and runs his hand over his face. “I don’t mean to get too personal, but I know it started around the time Amir was trying to pressure you into sleeping with him.” If not for the nature of the conversation, you’d find it a little adorable how he’s obviously trying his best to remain respectful. Kai has always been a genuinely decent guy. “He would constantly complain about you not ‘putting out’ around the locker room and during practice. And once he started hooking up with Mariah, he’d always brag about sleeping with the both of you.”

There’s so much to digest here. You’d figured Mariah and Amir were messing around after his slip around Christmas, but you figured it was a recent development. Now, you’re hearing that the girl you’ve considered a sister almost your whole life has been sleeping with the boy you once thought you loved from the very beginning?

“The times you couldn’t make it to parties, they’d be all over each other, but no one said anything because—”

“Because it was Amir,” you finish for him with a whisper. “He was the king of the school. No one would snitch on him, especially not his teammates.” You’re very familiar with the hierarchy and patriarchy of high school. You were the queen, just as much as he was the king, and everyone knew that you and Amir were always back and forth. They probably figured that you knew, or maybe they didn’t. You’re not so worried or stunned by just how many people knew and didn’t say anything. It doesn’t matter at this point.

What matters is that Mariah has always been a snake, a snake you brought around your child.

The child she got taken from you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything either—”

“No, don’t. You didn’t owe me anything.” It’s the two people who claimed to love and care about you who should have been honest. “I should apologize to you for dragging you into that bullshit. I’m really sorry, Kai. You didn’t deserve that.”

“We were kids, Y/N. Didn’t know any better.” Kai is clearly as uninterested in an apology from you as you are from him. “I’m sorry if this is too personal, but are you and Amir still….”

“No.” Just the thought alone nearly has you back to retching into the nearest toilet. “We were on and off friends with benefits since, well, high school. Outside of when I was with Callie’s dad for three years, but now Joe and I are back together. Have been for months.” There’s a small hint of excitement, the first non-sad emotion you’ve experienced in the past two days as you inform, “Callie and I will be moving to Florida to live with him.”

“Good.” Kai seems genuinely happy and pleased to hear this. “Hell, as a man, I can imagine he’d get you both on a plane out of here today if he could.” A small, sad chuckle leaves your mouth at his words. He’s probably not wrong. “You should have been left this place, Y/N. You deserve better. Always did. Get out of here and have a fresh start.”

The encouragement isn’t required but deeply appreciated. His openness and honesty provide you with a slither of relief. The information shared is something you’ll have to process at a later date and time, but it does answer some necessary questions you needed answered.

There’s no doubt in your mind at this point that leaving is absolutely what you need to do.

You just need to get through this nightmare first.

#roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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maicrowave · 6 months

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it makes me really happy when dan and phil are proud of "dan and phil" traditions.

a lot of people unfamiliar with the fandom (outside of dan's coming out story) like to claim that fans ruined everything for them by forcing them to do stuff together and create this brand.

that's just not true. creepy people did stalk them and try to speculate about their personal life with "proof". but dan and phil fully embraced their joint brand and made things they were proud of totally in parallel to that drama. no one forced them to make a gaming channel or go on tour together. they liked working with each other!!!

this false narrative that all dan and phil content was fabricated out of some awful "fandom has them at gunpoint" situation is so (1) sad and mean because it disregards the quality of their content, writing it off as forced and inauthentic and (2) totally disconnected from what they've said; they love working together as much as their audience loves the vibes!

#dan and phil #...also it's not our fault dan sounds unenthusiastic and sarcastic all the time he just has that dark twink aura 😭 dan never change #dnp lol #ramblings #mine

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shuinami · 10 months

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Part 1: What Exactly is Hobie’s Accent and Who Has It?

Part 2: When, Where, Why (Black Londoner Culture since Windrush) | Part 3: How (Writing Tips)

As a black Londoner, a large reason Hobie is so special to me is because I really saw and heard myself in him, while also not seeing a stereotype or typical, lacking in nuance portrayal of a black Londoner.

A lot of people have given great advice about how to write the dialogue of a British person; however, though the U.K. is a small place, different areas, like anywhere, have very different cultures and accents. Even somewhere as geographically small as London has a few different native accents, as many of you have picked up on, Cockney is one but there is also Received Pronunciation (RP), Estuary English and the one Hobie uses for most of his intro: Multicultural London English (MLE).

I’m an MLE user myself, as are most black Londoners, including Daniel Kaluuya (who voices Hobie and was asked to make the dialogue sound authentic). Aside from tilting my head in slight confusion at some of the slang floating around the fandom, one of the last times I rewatched the movie, I noticed Hobie actually only uses one relatively ubiquitous Cockney phrase… and apparently, it was used inauthentically? On the other hand, he uses quite a few MLE phrases and constructions but it seems few people represent that in their fan content.

It made me want to give my two cents and some advice on how to write the dialogue of an MLE user since I haven’t seen anyone do something like this yet.

In addition, I wanted to give a little bit of context about life as a black Londoner, since Windrush brought the first mass migration of black people to England in 1948 until now, since it’s another thing that I haven’t seen anyone talk about how it differs from the typical depictions of British life. And also how that intersected with punk culture and what it says about Hobie. Everyone is entitled to their personal interpretations but, of course, as someone who Hobie’s a bit closer to home for than most, I felt a lot of people are missing a key part of who he is without understanding the youth culture of black Londoners.

To answer these questions, I think it would be good to put names to the four main London accents so you can understand exactly what Hobie’s purposefully mixed accent is made up of and the one thing it is not.

I also want to say before we get into it that some people have unique accents/accents that may not seem to match their status or ethnicity, etc. so it’s not that nobody speaks using other accents but if we hear it, it would be noticeable.

Starting off, we have Received Pronunciation which is that posh, fancy and stuffy accent you probably first associated a British accent with. This is the accent of the rich, associated with types who go to private schools like Eton, with the royals’ accents and political figures. Nothing to do with Hobie.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, there’s Cockney. Cockney is an interesting one; it’s a term referring to people that are from East London, and according to Google “traditionally one born within the hearing of the Bow Bells” which means in earshot of the bells of St Mary-le-Bow Church.

The term is also used to cover the accent and slang; the Cockney accent is not necessarily exclusive to Cockney people but rather is one that, nowadays, floats around the working class. The culture, on the other hand, such as familiarity with rhyming slang and stuff like eating jellied eels is not so ubiquitous amongst the working class not from the area. An example of a Cockney with this accent would be Danny Dyer, who plays Mick Carter in EastEnders and some of the other characters also have a proper Cockney accent. Here’s an iconic clip from EastEnders that showcases the Cockney accent lol

youtube

However, there is a more general accent, which refers to the varying mixtures of RP and cockney that most Londoners have: Estuary English. The estuary in the term refers to the Thames Estuary in the South East of England, near but outside of London. The accent is not locked there, however, and extends to London, especially as people have tended to move further out from London with time due to housing prices and thus accents of outer and inner parts of London mix. It’s not associated with class the way the other two previous accents are.

There are no clear boundaries between Estuary English and Cockney, mainly due to upward mobility and movement around London. I’m not a linguist so it’s hard to describe but I would personally say that proper Cockney has some ways of pronouncing things that even Estuary English speakers on the Cockney end of the spectrum don’t typically do.

Some examples I would consider Estuary English or more typical accents would be those of people like Amelia Dimoldenberg (chicken shop girl 😂) and Tom Holland; on the more Cockney end of this accent, you’d have people like Adele (who I’m pretty sure has Cockney family members).

Then there’s Multicultural London English, influenced mainly by the dialects of the ethnic immigrants that have come to the U.K., most notably Jamaican Patois but also, more recently, borrowing a lot from West African Pidgin languages, as well as some words and phrases here and there from other immigrant communities. Most black people speak MLE and many other ethnic Londoners do too, as due to the effects of colonization and structural racism, many are relegated to the working classes and live in community together. Examples of this accent would be John Boyega, Jasmine Jobson, Letitia Wright and, of course, Daniel Kaluuya.

Now that we’ve got the accents down, which does Hobie have?

While the term Cockney is thrown around a lot, there is a strong implication that Hobie was born and raised in Camden, especially given the casting of Daniel Kaluuya, who was born and raised in that area himself.

Here’s a map of London, I split us up based on how I understand people typically refer to it, which is a mix of geography, government designation and postcodes. The rainbow in the middle is considered Central London, it’s a very commercial and touristy area, where all our classic landmarks are and it’s very expensive to live there.

Part of the borough of Camden is in central London and, currently, it starts to get more residential near Camden Market, which is 3 miles away from St Mary-le-Bow-Church, aka. The Bow Bells. A true Cockney is said to be within 3 miles or earshot of the bells (for geographical reasons, the sound carries more East). I’m not sure about the balance of residential to commercial areas in the 70s, although apparently, the area near Camden Lock was industrial. London has changed and expanded over time so someone from an east-most part of Camden at a point probably would have been easily counted as Cockney but I have no clue about the timeline. It’s uncertain whether or not Hobie would fit the criteria but if he was born today, Hobie definitely wouldn’t be considered or consider himself a Cockney.

So again, while there’s no clear distinction of what makes a Cockney accent, Hobie is probably not a Cockney (unless you hc as such).

Does that mean he uses Estuary English? I would say no. I think his accent is predominantly Cockney and he uses some of the slang, as most Londoners do, but being black and not from East London, he mostly uses MLE slang and sentence constructions.

I believe this was the creative intention, given the casting of Daniel Kaluuya, most known for his roles in movies tackling black issues, and the freedom he was given to make the dialogue authentic, meaning Hobie’s blackness is a core part of his character design for Spider-Verse. You can also hear Daniel exaggerating the accent for Hobie at points; as he’s said himself, it’s not just his regular accent, which might not be too obvious to those not so used to London accents. It's a more Cockney accent, particularly in the intro, that he’s putting on instead of speaking normally, despite not necessarily using much Cockney lingo. Bear in mind, that Daniel naturally has a stronger Cockney twang to his natural speaking voice than a lot of MLE speakers.

Returning to the point that the one Cockney phrase, “scooby doo” was used inauthentically; it’s worth noting that you’ll be hard-pressed to find an up-to-date and thorough reference or guide on how to write the use of Cockney slang authentically because Cockney is a somewhat dated culture. For example, jellied eels? Not a common thing anymore, Some people, probably older East Londoners, still do eat them but extremely few places sell them and most of us will have never even seen them in our lives. As mentioned above, upward mobility along with people moving around means that the accent, slang and general culture have been watered down over time. On top of that, a lot of East London has been gentrified, such as the Isle of Dogs (in Tower Hamlets), which has had Canary Wharf transformed - a mall, a business centre and a major transport link and Stratford (in Newham), which has similarly had a giant mall and major transport links added to it.

Some Cockney rhyming slang stuck and is known to all Londoners, such as “telling porkies/porky pies” and “copper”. “I ain’t got a scooby (doo)” is a more common one, although not even that is known to all. Typically, Cockneys only say the first half of the rhyming slang phrase (even if it no longer rhymes). I couldn’t tell you which Cockney rhyming slang phrases have been absorbed into more general London vocab other than those, because again, it’s not used as most lists you could probably find online have it written out in full but know that a lot of phrases have been absorbed.

Cockney slang is an oral tradition of the working class and so until more recently, when literacy rates went up, probably wouldn’t have been written, on top of people tending to write in standard English instead of using slang when writing. Unless you’re talking to a boomer/gen-x/older millennial from East London, it’s not so likely that you could read off a list of cockney phrases to a Londoner and they would be familiar with them. Because Daniel Kaluuya and I’m guessing the other people involved in writing Hobie’s dialogue aren’t Cockneys, well, that’s how we ended up with what we got.

So, whilst a dated dialect probably would be perfect for Hobie, it’s hard to get right or for it to read as natural to a Londoner because it’s difficult to pinpoint people that still talk like that on a regular basis, even in East London and it’s ESPECIALLY not black people/MLE users that talk like that these days. Cockney Rhyming slang was code language, after all so it figures that it’s a bit elusive.

Funnily enough, Hobie’s use of MLE is probably a slight anachronism, a little ahead of his time. Because the mass migration of Caribbeans began in 1948, by the 70s, most young black people would be the first big wave of second gens or immigrants themselves; ‘Black British’ culture would’ve still been quite young and not had enough time to carve itself as its own thing. The MLE we (including Hobie in the movie) use today started to really be what it is today in the 90s. Point being, you’re not going to find documentation of black Londoners from the 70s or early 80s who talk like Hobie.

Basically… Hobie’s accent is not authentic to the time period so if you wanted to write a historically authentic accent/slang… then you probably wouldn’t really write one… buuut it’s less fun and less Hobie! So let’s learn about black British youth culture and racism in London since the 70s, then we can understand the context in which the language is used before we learn the lingo + how to use it 😎

#I FUCKED UP THE MAP COLOURS BRENT AND HARROW ARE NW NOT WEST #atsv fanfiction #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #spider punk #shui fic #shuinami

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hazbin-but-good · 3 months

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another hazbin hotel rewrite/redesign?

yup! and i'm so serious about it that i made a whole blog for it. i'm a white queer ex-cath tran doing this as an art and writing exercise, so feedback from other creatives + jewish and/or racialized folks is especially welcome.

i'm putting this post and only this post in the main tags for visibility. also, not gonna link my main, but i do make my own original stuff, and i encourage fans and haters alike to do the same.

anyway, here's a mostly good-faith 1.7k-word essay on the original. i think it's pretty funny and brings up some less talked-about points. correct me on the facts, disagree with my opinions, and ask clarifying questions, but don't come at me with any piss-poor reading comprehension.

the hellaverse is garbage, and here's why

cw: strong language, stronger opinions, intersectional feminist critical discourse analysis

1. vivienne medrano, the person

medrano was born as a well-off white-passing latina (salvadoran-american) in bougieass frederick, maryland. while attending new york's top art school, she got popular on deviantart-tumblr-twitter by being a prolific multifandom fujoshi furry who's more into ornamental character design than storytelling. upon graduation, she leveraged her fanbase and industry connections to make the hazbin and helluva boss pilots, get helluva made for youtube, and get hazbin made for amazon prime.

like every woman online, she gets harassed for no good reason, and as a certified autist, i will defend her right to be dumb, weird, annoying, and bad with words. however, there are legit reasons to criticize her:

racism, misogyny, homophobia, fatphobia, some antisemitism, past transphobia, past ableism

shitty boss, bad friend

cowardly, vindictive, manipulative, thoughtless behavior

skeevy friends

sucks at taking criticism

in short, i think she desperately needs a PR person and someone to clean up her digital footprint.

2. medrano's art

incurious

inauthentic

noncommittal

creatively stagnant

overindulgent, and the indulgence isn't even fun

shallow and childish framed as complex and mature

bland and boring framed as shocking and subversive

to be clear, i'm at peace with the existence of suckass art like this; i just think the money, attention, and praise it gets are unearned and should go to more interesting works, of which there are infinite.

medrano's had the time, money, and social cache to grow as an artist, learn from the best, and take creative risks, but she hasn't. if she truly has nothing more to offer, she should let her collaborators take the wheel, but she doesn't do that either. instead, she keeps getting more and more resources to make the same baby bullshit, and that pisses me off. she could be the nicest person ever, and this fundamental arrogance would still make her art blow.

stop with the pointless guilt: liking medrano's work does not make you stupid or evil. however, if you stay in the kiddie pool of culture, if you refuse to engage with a diversity of art, if the hellaverse is your point of reference for anything media-related, you can't expect to have your opinions on art, media, or culture taken seriously. you have not earned a seat at the table. you gotta hit the books first.

i cannot emphasize enough how much incredible stuff is out there if you're willing to look further than what social media and streaming services put right in front of you. if you come away from this blog having learned about just one new artist or piece of art, i'll be a happy camper.

3. the hellaverse

a. empty and confused

hazbin and helluva's content and marketing has no clear target audience. the subjects are inappropiate for teens, but the execution is too childish for adults, and lemme tell you what i don't mean by that, first.

not inherently inappropriate for teens:

sex and sexuality

violence, including when it intersects with the above

politics and religion

not inherently childish:

animation (any style)

comedy

episodic writing and/or loose continuity

young characters

fun, happiness, optimism, the power of friendship, cuteness, tenderness, sincerity, etc.

what i mean is that these shows are literally about adult characters who fuck, smoke, drink, do drugs, go clubbing, work full-time, manage their own finances, and deal with stuff like bureaucracy, sexual violence, domestic abuse, marriage, divorce, late adoption, and family estrangement.

however, none of these "adult" things are given enough specificity to create drama or comedy. it's all too stock, vague, flat, weirdly sanitized, and thus utterly banal—pure aesthetics on top of bad saturday morning cartoons. it's exactly what i'd expect from a sheltered disney kid who needs to log off and get into their local gay scene ASAP so their only contact with things like poverty, policing, addiction, and sex work stops being facile movies and TV.

if the shows were aware of this and played with it, that could be amazing, but they're not. they give you the mickey mouse version of the world with a straight face and then play looney tunes sound effects to try to make you laugh and sad_violin.mp3 to try to make you cry. now that's funny.

b. old and tired

let's make like americans and pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist. even within the confines of the USA, home of the hays code, the red scare, and reaganite propaganda, this neopuritan fascist state ruled by 1000 megachurches in a trenchcoat, the indie/underground animation scene has been doing crazier shit for decades. anti-war films in the 60's, bakshi movies in the 70's, the simpsons shorts and r-rated movies in the 80's, adult swim and MTV in the 90's, flash/newgrounds/youtube in the 00's, streaming in the 2010's—so what are we doing in the 2020's with this wet white rice drowned in expired ketchup? i feel crazy making this point because it's obvious if you've watched these things, but if you haven't, you're gonna be like "well, there's gotta be something new here". no! there isn't! in the words of jimmy "the scot" jordan, nothing, nothing, NOTHING!

c. ideological purgatory

actually, there is one thing in these shows i've never seen before: the presbysterianism. shout out some interesting or at least intentional presbysterian art in the comments, because the way these ideas are presented here is not compelling. it just makes the rainbow neoliberalism even more confusing and contradictory.

i guess the big presbysterian things are protestanism, calvinism, and, uh, big church government? presbysterians, get your shit together. get your brand down. catholics have BDSM and vampires, evangelicals have TV and corporatism; what do you have? celtic crosses? no wonder medrano has such uninspired ideas on divinity.

d. queer deficiency

when i look at a piece of art, i ask myself: "what does this give me that i can't get from the hunchback of notre dame (1996)?" if the answer is as limp as "uhh, gay people, i guess", i can probably look for my gay shit elsewhere and rewatch the hunchback of notre dame (1996) in the meantime.

but let's say that you have no standards. you've been waiting for ages for a show about gays by the gays for the gays, and by god you're gonna get it. this is it! here we go! time for some

generic twink obliteration

male sexuality as aggression and dominance displays

WLW (sex and chemistry not included)

a couple straight femdoms

and the stalest sex jokes known to man

...yeah, it's not very queer. and by "queer", i mean "questioning or subverting gender norms (including sexual roles) within a given cultural context regardless of creator identity and intent". i'm not a queer studies scholar so LMK if there's a more specific term for this, but whatever you call it, it's not in the hellaverse much.

there's not even any transness, literal or metaphorical, just ancient drag jokes. i guess the writers thought we would've been too controversial. so much for an indie animation studio that prides itself in the diversity of its staff both above and below the line, bakshi-style. i wonder how medrano, a bisexual woman, would've felt if told that a lesbian main couple in hazbin would be "too controversial".

4. spindlehorse and the vivziepop brand

spindlehorse toons underpays its overworked staff and keeps outsourcing more and more labor to even more overworked freelancers overseas to cut costs. a rainbow sweatshop is still a sweatshop, and just because these practices may be "industry standard" doesn't make them any more ethical.

the studio has also been repeatedly accused by current and former employees and contractors of creating a hostile and abusive workplace. AFAIK, it still has no dedicated HR person, and victims are too afraid of retaliation like blacklisting and online harassment to speak out.

this is exactly the stuff that unions exist to prevent. as i'm writing this, the IATSE (the parent union of TAG, which is the parent union of all US animation unions) is negotiating with entertainment industry executives for better working conditions, and if the execs fuck around like last year, it's strike time again. so watch this space, voice your support, and don't cross any picket lines.

i hope spindlehorse unionizes, but until then and for these reasons, i don't think you should give money to the company.

first of all, all content on amazon-owned platforms is ok to pirate, and all youtube ads are ok to block. everyone involved in making the episodes has (or should have) been paid upfront, so you're not taking the bread out of anyone's mouth.

next, let's look at the succulent offerings of the official vivziepop merch shop:

$10 pins and keychains

$15 sticker packs

$20 mugs and acrylic cutouts

$25 shirts

$30 metal cards (not even tarot)

$40 lounge pants

$50 mini backpacks

random $80 skateboard deck

forgive my latin americanness, but this is all stuff you can get made by a local metalsmith, print/sublimation shop, or just crafty people in your life. it's cheaper, customizable, and better for the environment to skip all the shipping and packaging. also, not painting your own skateboard is poser shit.

the hazbin website also has $15 pins, one $20 keychain, and $6 trading card packs. people are weird about trading cards, so if for some reason you wanna gamble for a mass-produced bit of cardboard, plastic, and tinfoil, at least bulk-order for all the vivziepoppers in your area so it's less of a huge waste. better yet, trace the designs and make infinite bootlegs.

at the end of the day, buying merch is not activism. your bulk order of trading cards will not save any wage slaves from getting evicted from their overpriced studio apartments. however, the shop links you to all the credited artists/designers, and more of your bucks will actually reach them if you buy their designs directly, then turn them into body pillows or life-sized bronze statues or whatever the fuck.

go through the credits of any episode of helluva or hazbin, and you'll find even more creatives you might wanna support. get jinkx monsoon's albums on CD. subscribe to actually good artist, animator, and composer gooseworx. lots of voice actors now have patreon, cameo, or self-hosted pages where you can write better lines for their characters and have them read it. these things may not look as shiny as Official Merch™, but we all need less plastic shit and more culture anyway.

#spindlehorse #vivziepop #hellaverse #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #spindlehorse critical #vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel redesign #helluva boss redesign #communism #degrowth

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