#now i need her to attac as well

[smittenskitten]

[honeybeedrabble]

can u write a sdv three way smut with elliot and harvey x reader can it include an eiffel tower k thanks

OMG !! MY FIRST SDV ASK !! absolutely.

Sweet Summer 9: AFAB!reader x Elliot x Harvey

CW: inside joke, "cannon" typical violence/pain via smile attack, oral (M and F recieving), eiffel tower, unprotected piv (dont be stupid, wrap it up guys), hair pulling, cream pie (WRAP. IT. UP.) lmk what I missed.

As the new farmer, you had your work cut out for you. Summer had just started a little over a week ago and you were SPENT. With the brutal task of having to fish, forage, farm and mine, all so you could rebuild the community house, it was only natural you were so tired.

One afternoon you were going around CinderSap Forest, rummaging for forage-ables, desperately needing to find a grape anywhere you could. While scavenging a little too close to the secret forest, a slime had come outside and attacked you.

“Shit!” You yelped, jumping back as it shot a dart at your thigh. You rummaged through your bag as it knocked you back, slowly moving towards you with a patronizing pace. You drew your silver saber and sliced through the green creature with ease. You rolled yours eyes as it splat to the ground, slime oozing out of it you could collect for later.

You knelt down to examine your wound, touching the slimy secretion of the poison dart and winced in pain. You cursed yourself for wearing shorts, regardless of how hot it was today. You threw your bag on the ground, digging through it with an increasing anxiety as you couldn’t find a snack to tie you over.

“God dammit!” You threw your bag at a nearby hardwood stump, holding your head in your hands as you pouted at your own stupidity. With a heavy sigh you reached for your bag and got up on your feet, legs tensing up under the effects of the dart. You hobbled out of the forest, taking a few breaks every now and then as you approached town.

As you got closer and closer to the towns clinic, you saw Maru walk out, still in uniform. She saw you approaching rapidly and held the door open for you, a worried look on her face.

“What it is hoe? Everything okay?” She asked, her face curling into an amused smirk. She watched as you clutched your thigh.

“No… I was in the forest and I got fucked up by a slime…” you blushed, embarrassed to admit the small defeat from the green monster. Maru giggled.

“I’ve heard your stories, from killing skeletons to annihilating shadow brutes and yet you get hurt by a slime? You’re one hell of a farmer.” She laughed, readjusting her glasses. You lightheartedly laughed back.

“Well Ms. Scientist, I’d like to see you out there showing off your swordsmanship.” You leaned against the doorway.

“I’d never be carrying something so heavy in a life or death situation, i’d probably have some device to do the work for me.” She said, matter-of-factly with that signature smirk plastered to her face.

“Well when I sell of my crops to Pierre this harvest I’ll buy one off of you.”

“Sounds good. Look, I’m going on my break right now but go ahead and take a seat in the waiting room, Harvey’s a little busy.” She said, still holding the door. You nodded and headed inside, the door shutting behind you.

It felt like forever, sitting in that room all alone while your leg felt like it was threatening to fall off. You writhed in agony, a few grunts and groans spilling out of your lips while you sat in the blue chairs.

“Fuck this bullshit,” You sneered through a clenched jaw, stumbling to the double doors and down the hall to Dr. Harvey’s office. You threw open the door, clutching your thigh so tight your nails could’ve broke skin.

“WHAT THE!-“ The man seated on the bed yelled, clutching a white blanket to his waist, eyes widened with shock. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?!” He yelped, face red. Harvey turned around from the cabinets looking you up and down.

“Y-Your leg!” He stared at your thigh, the skin around your wound was red and your face didn’t hide the pain from the attack. “Elliot, would you please get off from the table? The farmer needs urgent medical attention!” His voice was stressed, looking through a cabinet quickly.

“B-But Harvey… I’m indecent…” he blushed, clutching the sheet tightly.

“Listen Elliot, stop messing around…” You groaned, leaning against the other side of the examination table. Elliot got up, quickly wrapping the sheet around his waist as you soon took his spot on the bed. Harvey placed a hand around the wound, a clear substance seeping out.

“It was a slime, wasn’t it?” He asked, wiping the sludge off with a cotton ball.

“How’d you know?” You asked, still clenching your jaw in pain.

“I’ve seen this before. We need to get this out ASAP." He started to squeeze the wound, you yelled in agony, the wound feeling like it was going to burst.

“Stop!” You swatted his hand away. He looked at you with a furrowed brow.

“Listen, I’ve got to get this fluid out before I treat it anymore.”

“No squeezing! It feels like you’re trying to pop the worlds biggest pimple!” You clutched the wound again, looking down at it with worry. Harvey’s hand went to his hair in stress.

“Okay, okay… calm down.” He said, mostly to himself. He took a deep breath. “I need to get some life elixir from the back but before I do I need to get this out of you one way or another. So if you want my help you’re going to have to cooperate.”

“Anything,” you nodded, desperate for alleviation.

“Elliot,” Harvey turned to him. He looked over to Harvey, his eyes blown wide. “You’re going to need to help.”

“Who me? I’m not a doctor, I don’t even know how to give CPR!”

“Elliot please, I’ll just need you to do a simple favor while I look for the elixir.”

“I-I… I don’t know…” He was nervous.

“Elliot please! I swear if you help me out I’ll get you 20 pomegranates next season,” You sighed, looking up at him. His face suddenly brightened before returning to a stoic expression. He nodded, then looked back at Harvey.

“What do you need me to do, Doctor?”

“I know this is a strange request but it has to be done.” Harvey had turned around, grabbing a small cup and handing it to Elliot. “While I go looking for the medicine, I’m going to need you to… to suck out the poison…” Harvey said. Elliot’s eyes widened.

“Suck the poison out?! Are you crazy? It’s poison, I don’t want to get sick.”

“The poison will only effect you if it gets into your bloodstream. As long as you don’t have any cuts or wounds on the inside of your mouth you’ll be safe. Just suck it out and spit it into here and don’t. swallow. it.” Harvey handed him a small cup of water, then turned and bolted over to the door and out, leaving you and Elliot alone.

“Are you okay with this?” Elliot asked, getting down on his knees, his grasp still firm on the sheet around his hips.

“Yes just… please.” You sighed, tears starting to well up. He nodded, silently reminding himself of the promise you made him.

He grabbed your thigh and maneuvered you to the edge of the bed, holding your hips in place. He lowered his lips on the wound and gently sucked the tender skin. You whined, squirming in his grasp. He brought his head up then grabbed the cup, spitting the liquid into it.

“Be still, I need to have you just like this if I’m going to be useful.” He said, his hand returning to your hip. He put his lips to your thigh again and you shuddered, a slight tickle going up your leg. You squirmed again and he sighed.

“If you can’t sit still then at least hold the cup so I can spit it in.” He bargained. You nodded, taking the cup from him and holding it at your hip.

His head ducked down, lips returning once again to your leg. You tried to hold back a breathy sigh, but failed when he started sucking. His warm mouth on your sensitive skin was beyond soothing, it felt almost euphoric. Feeling his plush lips cradle your wound made you feel like your eyes were going to roll back, you clenched them shut. He looked up at you through his long eyelashes, then returned to your leg, getting as much liquid out before spitting into the cup.

Your face was red and your legs twitched as he kept working on your injury, a strain of embarrassing whimpers escaping you every so often. His soft lips clung to your thigh, his fingers digging into your hip absentmindedly. Elliot made the fatal flaw of having. tongue dip out, running along your sensitive skin. Your eyes shot open, his hot tongue raking along your thigh, teasing you of what was just out of reach. This game you both knew was torture, Elliot deduced to only being able to suckle your sweet skin, the sheet covering him for modesty threatening to fall off.

Your hand holding the cup of water set it aside and your hand rested in his long hair. He smirked, licking a stripe along the flesh of your inner thigh. You gave up on stifling your moans and let one slip freely from your mouth. He then licked higher up your leg, his teeth grazing your upper thigh. Your hips bucked, the water beside you almost tipping over. Elliot looked up.

“What did I say about staying still, hm?” He reached for the water, taking some in his mouth and sloshing it around before spitting that into the cup, washing his mouth out.

“S…Sorry I-“ You panted, watching as his head ducked down and his lips attacked your thigh. He licked higher and higher up, his grip intensified as you kept moving against your will.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your core fighting as you watched the beautiful man between your thighs reach up to your waistband and and unbutton your shorts. He slid them off of you, your panties coming down with them and his mouth watered at the sight of your slick folds.

“All of this for me?” He purred, licking up your inner thigh and stopping right at your folds. You bit your lip, looking at the door, hoping the doctor wouldn’t come in and see you in such a compromising position.

“Y-Yeah…” you muttered. Elliot quickly grabbed your asscheeks and dove his head into your pussy, tasting your sweet juices and lapping at your sensitive clit.

You yelped, toes curling and your fingers tangled in his long auburn hair. He let out a few gutteral moans, his nails sinking into your plush cheeks, kneading your ass in his large hands. Your legs started to shake while he ate you out. Your own fingers started pulling on his hair, more beautiful moans were let out from the soft lips that were kissing and licking at your glistening folds.

The door flung open and you both whipped your head over to see Harvey standing inside, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"D-Doctor!" Elliot stammered nervously, standing up and stumbling back against the countertops, knocking over jars of cottonballs and gauze. You were eye level with his massive erection, precum staining the white sheet around his hips a sheer white, his pink-ish brown tip visable from the other side. The blanket teased sliding off his hips, his cum gutters on display for the room. You felt flustered, fully examining his toned body and soft skin.

Suddenly you felt your hair pulled into a pony tail from behind, snapped out of the hypnotized trance you were stuck in. You were pulled back and Harvey looked down at you, a pink bottle in his other hand. You maneuvered your body around to face him on the bed, your ass to Elliot.

Harvey had your hair grasped firmly, ever so slightly having your head tilted up to him, staring up at him through your lashes. His eyes were blown with lust as he tipped the pink bottle of life elixir to your plump lips.

"Say ah," he said, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he peered at you from over his lenses. Your jaw hung loose and your pink tongue slipped out, producing a small "ahh" for the doctor.

"Drink." He commanded with a sultry, deep voice, tilting the bottle and watching the sweet liquid flow down your throat, his hand still grasping your hair. You drank the medicine looking up at him, palming the erection growing in his pants. Harvey let out a small grunt, watching as your voice box bobbed up and down with each king gulp.

You felt familiar hands grab at your ass, a slender finger running up and down your folds before sinking deep into your wet cunt. You almost choked on the last bit of the medicine as you let out a whine, Elliot behind you.

“Seems like you need me, hmm?” He asked, his long finger curling inside of you and hitting your spongey g spot that had you dripping into his palm.

Harvey loosened up on your make shift pony tail, his large veiny hand unbuttoning his pants and opening up his zipper for you to admire his length from behind his plaid boxers. You quickly pulled both waist bands down his hips and watched as his member sprung out. You felt Elliot’s finger withdraw from your cunt, the sound of the sheet around his hips hitting the floor had you clench around nothing.

“Be good for me and open that mouth of your again,” Harvey instructed, his pornstache tilting as his lips were pulled into a cocky smirk.

You opened your mouth just like you did for the pink bottle, except this time the liquid seeping out was salty rather than sweet. His girth was rather hefty, your jaw already felt sore as he slowly pushed your head down his length using your hair as leverage. You let out a soft noise, tongue running along a vein that ran down the underside of his length.

Just then, you felt the smooth head of Elliot’s cock gently part you, eliciting a high pitched whine from the back of your throat. Harvey let out a gutteral groan, choking on his own reaction. He twitched in the back of your throat and the feeling sent a shiver down your spine as Elliot continued to thrust into you.

“Beautiful…” he sighed, his hands landing softly, yet firmly on your hips. He tenderly ran a hand along the small of your back, bending down to place a soft kiss at the base of your neck. He watched as you sucked off Harvey and nipped gently at your ear. You clenched around his length and the strained grunt he let out had you seeing stars.

Harvey’s eyes glazed over as he gently cupped your cheek in his palm, thumb caressing your cheekbone. Your drool dribbled down the length of his hard dick, his scent filling your lungs while you slowly began to get more comfortable with his cock. He watched as you kept getting more and more used to what you were working with, the agonizing pace had him throbbing inside your hot mouth, desperate for more. He lightly thrusted his hips deeper into you, stopping when he heard a soft gag. He let you move at your own pace, he couldn’t bare to stop the amazing progress you already made.

You finally took him balls deep in your throat, Elliot rewarding you with soft kisses on your neck while his own hips started to sway back and forth, cock nestling deeper inside of you.

“Such a good job.” Elliot praised, standing back up to join hands with Harvey above their heads.

The two looked down at you from opposite ends, their temples next to each other as Harvey watched Elliot’s cock disappear inside of you and as Elliot watched the way your soft lips wrapped around Harvey’s length. The moans filled the room, along with the sounds of gentle gags from your hollowed cheeks and wet, slapping skin against skin.

Each of Elliot’s powerful thrusts had you pushing up against the deliciously large cock in your throat, Harvey talking you through it.

“Don’t forget to breathe, I know it’s good but we can’t have you passing out on us,” he’d coo, before spitting out a dirty: “Take it, take it deeper… shit. The mouth on this one… fuck you suck some good cock.”

You felt so full, your senses crowded by the men who were using you from both ends. Insides twisting as you were made to be their fuck doll. You felt Harvey’s thumb on your cheek reassuringly caressing you, your drool pooling down your chin and onto your shirt.

“Look at you… such a dirty little farmer, aren’t you?” Harvey teased, his face red as you let him fuck your throat.

You felt your orgasm building up sooner than expected, with the view from the front and the sensation from the back you weren’t at all surprised. Your body felt molten hot, repeatedly whimpering around Harvey’s sensitive tip. Electricity ran through your spine, orgasm crashing over you as your tight cunt was being jackhammered perfectly by the man raw dogging you from behind. You arched your back as you came on Elliot’s cock, mewling desperately around Harvey, the taste of cum soon flooding your mouth as your struggled to swallow every drop.

“Shit- that’s it. It’s too good, I-I- ngh!” Harvey blabbered, cock pulsing as he flowed down your pretty throat.

You clenched around Elliot, lost in his own symphony of moans and delightful noises that echoed throughout the small office. He wanted to pull out but he couldn’t possibly tear himself away from your sweet pussy, thick ropes of cum shooting out from his hard cock and deep into your drenched, velvety walls.

You gasped for air when Harvey pulled out of you, he pulled his boxers and pants back up, buttoning them with ease as he walked to the other side of the bed where Elliot stood. Elliot slowly pulled out, both men ogling how the cum poured out of your soft cunt and onto your thighs, the wound from earlier before already looking better.

“Well Elliot, everything looks good.” Harvey said nonchalantly, picking up a few papers from his countertops. “I’ll send that allergy prescription over to Pierre’s if you want or I can send you a call whenever Maru gets back and you can pick them up here.

Elliot walked over to his pile of clothes on a nearby chair and began to dress himself. “Thank you, Doctor. I think I’ll go ahead and buy them at Pierre’s if that’s alright. I have a few errands to run over there already so it’s just easier that way.”

The two men conversed with each other as if you weren’t a shaken, fucked out mess right next to them. You watched as they talked about the prescription while you tried to settle down. After a few minutes Elliot walked over and kissed you softly on the forehead.

“I’ll be expecting those pomegranates,” he smirked with a wink, running his thumb along your puffy lips. “Come over anytime, you have my key.” He soon left and Harvey sat next to you on the bed, caressing your shakey legs and kissing you softly along your jaw. You hummed blissfully, bringing him in for a soft kiss on the lips.

“Your legs seem to be shaking, is this because of the slime or because of Elliot?” He asked knowingly.

“I-I think it was Elliot,” you blushed.

“Why don’t I give you a confidential check up, huh?” He asked, kissing your plush lips. You bit his lip and he let out a sigh, his glasses sliding down further.

“Lie down and let me take care of you,” Harvey instructed, hands unbuttoning his pants again and palming his already hardening member. “Doctors orders.”

AN: sorry this took so long i lost this fic in google doc, but it wasn’t in google doc ?? so i checked word ?!?!! not there either. turns out it was already in my drafts 💀💀

[clouds-of-wings]

Okay hold on so in the middle of season 5 Edith suddenly mentions that she's actually still writing her column..? That is wild, it hadn't been mentioned for... what, a season..? I had totally thought she'd given up on that!

Edith's entire character arc is reduced to repetitive scenes of her trying to catch a glimpse of her daughter and meanwhile she has a voice in a big, established magazine in London and it just... isn't mentioned..? I assume that now that her fiancé (aka the boss) is dead her column would have been discontinued if it didn't resonate with anyone. Her words, her opinions are clearly of interest to readers, and it just... doesn't get mentioned.

I used to write letters to the editor to a local newspaper as a politically interested and very opinionated teenager and found out that some people will very much let you know if they have opinions on what you write. I got phone calls from grumpy old men who needed to tell me how much they agreed with me on Saturday mornings, once a letter from Attac asking if I wanted to join them, one specific teacher would sometimes ask me about them -- and that was just a local newspaper at a time when print newspapers were already kinda declining in relevance.

So - if she writes this column on a constant level in a publication of some relevance in 1920s London, wouldn't she get rather a lot of letters about it? Wouldn't she get invited into Circles? It's just so weird that she can have something so big going on and her entire arc is somehow still about how she's overlooked, "pathetic", and nothing ever goes well for her. Wouldn't she be something like the quintessential 1920s socialite? Noble, young, unmarried, vocal about progressive opinions? Maybe she's too grieving to take advantage of her opportunities, but they'd still be offered to her I'd think. I wouldn't mind if she chooses not to get involved - it would add depth to her character either way - but I don't get how the entire matter gets treated as irrelevant. She has got to have strong opinions and a good writing style to keep things going for so long. The show does her so dirty smh.

[theprettynosferatu]

Note: This is not a kink story, it's a psychological horror story. Still, I hope you'll enjoy it! The character of Shaun was created by hTheconqueror.

I

Beyond the door, the party rages on. Shaun wants to go back, desires it with the kind of longing women expressed in letters to their boyfriends at war, long, long ago. Instead, he looks at the mirror. The bags under his eyes. The stubble. The sheen of insomnia and alcohol coating his eyes. He feels as if he wears his sins on his very skin. How others can look at him and not notice them is a mystery to him. 

Lucille would notice them, if she saw him. She wouldn’t say a thing, of course. But she would give him The Look: that silent judgment their parents had perfected and passed on to their golden child, their pretty, demure, perfect daughter. Shaun could see her in his mind, head down in the books, taking notes, repeating out loud the key points of the topic at hand. He feels his chest tightening, his feet growing cold, something like a slug crawling up his spine. He should be doing the same thing. He should have devoted more time to his studies, to avoid the need of a late term crunch. He shouldn’t be at a party. 

He tries to push the guilt away. What good will it do now? He’s here. He should be enjoying himself, like everyone else out there. Way to go, kiddo. Locked in a stranger’s bathroom, not doing what you should do, not doing what you want to do- or what you think you want to do to avoid facing what you should do. Fucking grand champion you are. The thoughts come to him unbidden, solid like stones. Well, let he who is without sin cast the first one. Shaun sure as Hell isn’t without sin, but that doesn’t keep him from stoning himself. Do the voices sound more like his parents or his sister, he wonders. 

He knows he’s spiraling. And the only way to keep it from getting even worse is to ignore it all. Get out there, try to regain some of that enjoyment, of that being-in-the-moment. Yes, ignore everything. That has worked so, so well.

Fuck it. There’s a party out there, and Shaun intends to enjoy himself. He takes a deep breath, counts to five. Exhales, counting to eight. Waits for a count of three. Inhales again, repeats the process until he feels like something close to himself. The door handle reminds him of the coat of sweat on his palms, but he chooses to ignore it. He can fake it until the pleasure becomes real again, the laughter sincere.

The smell of weed is almost overpowering, even with the windows cracked open. He wishes, just for a moment, that he could partake in that particular vice. It feels so seductive to just smoke his worries away. To let go of his own need to keep a grip on things. But he knows he won’t do it. There are sins and there are sins and his family has put the fear of God and Drugs deep inside him from birth. Just getting drunk is a transgression he knows he’ll pay for in both hangover and shame soon enough. He suspects he might be getting a contact high for a moment, before remembering that his stupid brain doesn’t need chemical assistance to go into full alert for no reason.

And Shaun is certainly going into full alert. Like machine gun fire, details and sensations batter down his senses. The way a ring sparkles, reflecting the cheap LED strips that provide so-called “ambiance” to the house party. How a girl to his left lets loose a little sort of yelp every time she laughs. Slightly crooked glasses frames on running makeup. One of the speakers failing, distorting the high-end of the music. The scent of butane from a guy playing with a lighter. An amorous couple in a dark corner, his face buried in her neck. The taste in the air of slightly charred brownies. Everything is too near. Too clear, and at the same time, slightly warped, as if coming to him from behind a subtle veil. 

Then the battle begins. Shaun would welcome the distraction, if only the intruder’s shirt wasn’t a hideous Hawaiian mess of clashing colors that is, in itself, an attack on everyone watching in general and Shaun in particular. The Man in the Shirt is arguing with the frattish kid manning the laptop and blasting the kind of music that commands the listener to dance and have the night of their lives. Some wasted chick tries to ride in aid of the poor, besieged DJ. One of her stockings has run down to her mid-thigh. Shirt Man seems to be shouting. Shaun half-wishes he could know what he’s saying, while part of him is grateful for the distance sheltering him from both words and the full effect of The Shirt. Eventually Shirt Man prevails, and DJ Kid cuts his losses. Shaun feels like he’s melding with the wall. 

Shirt Man seems to have interesting tastes. All his songs seem to be from between 1982 and 2001, no further. The crowd is most certainly not feeling it. Shaun feels invisible, watching just as a scientist would observe a primitive tribe. No one dares challenge Shirt Man, who appears to be getting more and more angry at the people’s lack of enthusiasm for his musical selection. Shirt Man’s eyes scour the living room, studying every reaction. When they set on Shaun, a chill goes down his legs and he looks down. Don’t look at me, Shirt Man. I can’t stand to be looked at right now. Focus on your own shit, man. People are leaving.

Shaun decides to leave as well. It feels like defeat. Unable to do productive things. Unable to relax like a normal goddamn person. Failure. His exit has the taste of punishment- not by the hand of God but by his own, shaped and molded by God’s rules. Or his parents’ rules. Same thing, really. 

Outside, the moon appears to watch him with bemused indifference as he walks back to his apartment.  

II

After three sleepless nights, Shaun decides he hates the sun, that unblinking eye, like God’s gaze, casting light on his every sin. He knows it’s irrational, but he can swear there’s a mark on him, a malaise that everyone can see. He’s stained, polluted. Broken.

He wants to tell everyone to stop looking at him. He wants to punch his roommate Raul for putting him in this situation. A walk would be good for you, man. Yeah, right. 

He’s being unfair. He knows it. Raul is worried. Shaun wishes Raul would just leave him the fuck alone. But then again, what good would that do? Three days of supposed crunch, and nothing to show for it. Every second brings him closer to a final deadline that looms, in his mind, with the mortifying certainty of death. He knows it’s not a life or death situation. He wishes he could convince his chest of that fact, but his heart keeps pounding away in a mad frenzy.

Everything around him feels unreal. Distant. The street is a mess of color and movement with no meaning. His steps lead him nowhere. He wants to be inside, anywhere with four walls and a roof- like a womb, or a safe bubble. But he knows the instant he finds a place, he will feel claustrophobic, with every nerve ending screaming to get out. No peace indoors. No peace outdoors. Sweating like a condemned man walking up the gallows.

Insomnia is one hell of a mindfuck, he thinks. Hours spent reading books, only to not recall anything except a phrase here, a fragmented piece of a diagram there, half a definition of a term he should know, but can’t recall. A waste of time. Unable to sleep. Unable to be productive. Utterly useless. Even his perception is misfiring- startled by something moving right at the edge of his vision. Something that isn’t there. At least out in the sun he’s not scaring himself to death with imaginary phantoms. No, he’s scaring himself to death with real people, looking at him, seeing him in all his pathetic mediocrity. Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself. So you have a final. Boo-fucking-hoo. There’s people out there with real problems. What right do you have to collapse over a task so simple your sister could do it without breaking a sweat? She has been through shit too, you know. And you don’t see her fucking up her life- and you, bucko, are fucking up big time.

Ice-cream. The thought appears like a raft in the middle of a storm. If anything has remained true in Shaun’s life, is that ice-cream makes everything better. Despite all the changes, despite moving across the world with his family, despite his constant shortcomings as a person… ice-cream is always there.

He looks at the list on the wall. The ice-cream parlor feels small. Oppressive. The words seem to slide right off him. None of the flavors seem appetizing in the slightest. Shaun tries to remember what each of those words tastes like, tries to figure out what he wants. What the fuck does he want? Shit, shit, the line is moving too fast. The girl behind the counter looks bored out of her mind. Don’t look at me. Don’t see me. Don’t see my failure. 

He ends up ordering almond chocolate, just because it was his favorite as a kid, more as a reflexive action than a real choice. Anything to get out of there. Anything to get away from the girl’s eyes.

He’s eating ice-cream on a park bench. Alone. It tastes like nothing. His mind keeps racing as he devours the treat, not taking the time to enjoy it. Not that there’s anything to enjoy. It’s just… ice-cream. How stupid is he? Why did he think ice-cream would solve anything? How pathetic he must look, he figures. Eating his sad little ice-cream by himself. People must pity him. He can almost feel their disdain as they walk by. He deserves it. He deserves their scorn.

Well, great job, Ice-Cream Boy. You can’t even relax right. Let’s add this to the ever-growing list of your failures, shall we?

It sure feels like a failure. Shaun wonders back home, trying not to look at people’s faces. Maybe he’ll be able to nap, he figures. Yes. A nap would fix him. And after that, he could truly buckle down and study. That’s the ticket.

He wishes he could believe it.

III

A restless, half-sleep. Exhaustion closes Shaun’s eyes. Before he knows it they spring open, his heart beating as if he’s falling into an endless, merciless void. He’s sweating. His sheets feel like a thousand hands suffocating him. He tries to take slow, calming breaths. He puts on relaxing meditation videos on his laptop. He tries to push it all down, to go back to something resembling normalcy. His eyes close and he drifts to sleep, only to wake up again with a scream stuck in his throat. He realizes he’s too tired to actually scream, even if he wanted to. Time gets fragmented. A wink can take an hour. An hour can feel like a week. Blood rushes through his veins. He needs to escape, but there’s nothing chasing him, nowhere to run to. Anywhere he goes, he will be there. He can’t escape himself. The thoughts come to him, taunting him. Birds start chirping outside, announcing the dawn to come. He hates them. They sing his sleepless night. They mock his failure to sleep. He sits up, shaking. It’s there again, just… there, at the edge of sight- some blur of clashing colors that vanishes as soon as he tries to focus on it. There’s nothing there, boy. Your mind is too tired to make sense. You can’t trust that rusty tangle of cables you call a brain.

Part of him wishes Raul would wake up. Wishes he could tell him how fucked up he’s feeling. Wishes his roommate will somehow find the exact words to make it all better. Oh, you sound like a kid longing for mommy. How pathetic can you get? As the first rays of sunlight slither through the window, he gets up. He needs to be out of his room. Anywhere else will be better. Oh, you idiot. Anywhere is the same. He shambles down the hall, collapses on the couch. Broken. Broken. Broken. The word gets stuck in his head, an endless loop shutting out all hope. The ice is cracking, little broken boy. You’re going under.

“Hey. Did you sleep on the couch?”

Shaun wishes that was the truth. Raul is looking at him with a degree of concern that feels both frightening and somehow insulting, like Shaun is transparent, all his fucked up thoughts plain to see. Don’t. Look. At. Me.

“No. I just… I…”

“Hey. Shaun. It’s okay. Did you manage to get any sleep? At all?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

The silence grows heavy between them. Maybe it’s a male thing, Shaun half-thinks. Maybe Raul is particularly ill-equipped to help. Maybe Shaun was deluded in his desperate hope. His friend won’t help. He can’t help. No one can help.

“I think… there’s something wrong.”, Shaun manages to get out with a shivering voice.

“Well, of course. I… Maybe you can just not turn in that final… it wouldn’t be, you know, great, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Maybe you’ll have to retake that course, but…”

“It’s not just the final.” Shaun says, oddly feeling the absence of an anger he knows he would normally feel. “It’s something else. Something… I don’t know how to explain it…”

“Just do your best, man. Lay it on me.”

“I think I might be going crazy.”

“That’s a big, you know, like a big-big statement”

“Yeah. I know, but…”

“And not sleeping is not always a sign of madness, right?”

“Sure. Whatever. Raul, listen. It’s not just the insomnia, okay? I’m being serious. I’m… seeing something.”

“Something? Seeing what?”

“I… I don’t fucking know, ok? It’s just, like… a blur of swirling, clashing colors, except they’re not there if I look at them. I know I’m making zero sense, but… I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s this color that’s not a color, and it’s watching me. I feel how… petty it is. How cruel. And it’s always looking at me, always there, all night, just… watching.”

Raul is scared now. It’s obvious to Shaun, no matter how much his friend tries to hide it. Eyes darting around the room. His tell-tale leg bouncing. He’s afraid. Not of Shaun, not of the being haunting him, but for Shaun. It feels worse than anything else, and yet even the self-pity Shaun experiences is strangely… dull. Like a shadow of a feeling. 

“Look, man, just… stay here, okay? Rest up. I have to… I have to go to work, but when I come back we’ll figure it out. I think I have some pills somewhere that…”

“No pills, please. I…”

“What, could they make you feel worse? How? Look, they’re just normal anxiety pills. A lot of people take them every now and then. You need to sleep, man!”

Shaun can’t fight him. He shakes on the couch as Raul opens drawers and looks inside bags, until he announces his triumph with exaggerated, theatrical gestures. Shaun figures Raul is trying to pretend things aren’t so bad, and failing badly at it. Fine. Pills it is.

Raul leaves. Shaun shakes, covered in sweat. The pills kick in quickly, sending him into more restless not-sleep. He blinks hours away. He wants to scream and cry and end it all. The only thing he can do is stay there, on that damn couch, shaking.

IV

A hand on his foot rips him from a nightmare. There’s a mixture of feelings inside Shaun: a faraway, muted safety, almost as if that single hand was the one thing holding him together lest his chest explode; at the same time, a profound misery and some remnants of anger try to surface once he realizes who the hand belongs to.

“Hey.”, says his sister.

“Why are you here?”, is all Shaun can muster. Rude. Petty. Pathetic. Lucille should be acing tests. She should be doing whatever it is perfect fucking people do. Instead, his sorry state has brought her here. Wasting her time. She really is wasting her time, isn’t she? You’re not worth her time.

“Raul texted me. Said you were sick- didn’t go into detail but he seemed really freaked out. Did you see a doctor?”

“I’m not sick. I’m… I’m not okay, but I’m not sick. No point in seeing a doctor. They wouldn’t be able to help.”

“Okay… it’s a… psychological issue. So what? There are doctors for that too, you know. And… I mean, do you want to talk about it?”

“What’s the time?”

“Sorry?”

“What time is it, Lucille? Is it night already? I have no fucking notion of… it’s just… the fucking pill Raul gave me, it made me all loopy. I’ll… I’ll be fine, okay? But… is it night?”

“Why? What happens at night?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. But it’s worse at night. The thing, it- nevermind.”

“The thing? What thing? Look, I get it. You don’t want to talk about it, and you certainly don’t want to tell me about it, but there’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Whatever it is, whatever you’re… sensing, or seeing, or feeling… you can tell me. If you broke a leg, would you be embarrassed to see a doctor? This is the same. The brain is an organ and it can-”

“Look, Lucille, I appreciate it. I do. But I’m not dealing with a bone here. People don’t… you know, when you have a cast on your leg. And anyway Raul should be home soon so he…”

“Yeah, he, um, he’s gonna crash with some friend tonight”

You scared him. He can’t stand being near you, you crazy freak.

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay with you, if you’ll let me”, says Lucille. Oh, good. Girl is going after all the good Samaritan points. Shaun is too tired to argue, but he’s not about to spend a night with the living embodiment of everything he has failed to be. He gets up, dizzy- fucking couch. He hates the couch. Hates that he spent all day on it. Hates that Lucille saw him that way. Hates her. Hates himself. And yet only the last part feels truly real. The rest is less an emotion and more a secondhand telling of an emotion, or an emotion described by a particularly lazy narrator. A silhouette of where an emotion should be. He gestures at the fucking couch.

“You can… there. I’ll… just go to bed”

He shambles back to the room. Closes the door. He needs to be alone. He needs to rest. He needs to get his head straight, somehow. He needs to show Lucille he’s not some pitiful, crazy, charity case. If only he could calm his mind, have some proper sleep…

He’s on the bed. Did he fall? No. No, he was pushed… by… colors. Pushed by colors? That’s insane. A scream dies in his throat as a weight pins him down and a single second of pain assaults him, like syringes in his neck…

Then, peace. Simple, complete, blissful peace. His heart rate slows down. His breathing steadies. He feels as if he’s floating. Light. It’s okay. Everything is okay. Everything will be okay. His heart slows down more and more. Good. Things start going dark. That’s fine by him too. 

Suddenly, his peace is ripped away. The figure towers over him, flushed, rejoicing. Colors that slowly start making sense. The ugliest Hawaiian shirt he’s ever seen. Then, the Shirt Man smiles, his pupils like needlepoints. 

“Still not enjoying my tunes, asshole? I saw you, staring at me. Yes, you freak. Freak. I’ve felt that fucking brains of yours. Didn’t have to twist too much, didn’t I? Mr. Too-Good-For-Your-Music. Mr. Too-Classy-For-Your-Shirt. That’s what you thought, wasn’t it? What? Too sexy for this shirt? Too sexy for this shirt? Right Said Fred, ninteen-ninety-fucking-one! You uncultured swine! You fucked up freak! I barely had to break you! You were already broken! I like that you’re bro-ken…”

Shaun is too weak to move. Shirt Man is dancing. Shaun can’t tell if the creature is screaming or whispering. He seems to be doing both. Darkness crawls from the edges of his vision. He wants to scream for help. He can’t. Too tired. Too late. Failure. As usual.

“And now you die. Die-die-die! It’s shutting down. I can hear it, you know? It’s slowing down- your heart. Your breaky-achy-heart, bozo! No tomorrow… no tomorroOooow…”

Somehow his singing hits every note but the right one. Shaun can’t help but notice. It’s all so ridiculous. This is how he dies: serenaded by an off-key creep in the most offensive shirt ever manufactured. A smile almost forms on his pale lips.

“What’s so funny? I’m funny? Funny? You’re dying and you find it funny? No, no, no, you’re mocking me! Still! Still! You’re dying and you’re mocking me! So cruel! I gave you my gift of illumination! I made you see the world, feel the world how it truly is! And I’m giving you an exit! And you mock me? I give you all a boy could give you! Oh, tainted fuck! No. No, no no. I take it back! You don’t deserve an exit!”

Shirt man bites his own arm, and pushes the bloody wound on Shaun’s mouth. Shaun’s out of it, almost like he’s watching a reaction video of someone watching the scene. His lips part, almost by instinct.

“Yes! Do it! Feels good, doesn’t it? Celebrate good times, come on! Celebrate forever and ever and ever, you pathetic clown! No rest for the terminally classless!”

It’s fire. It’s a spring in the desert. It’s a lover’s caress. It’s a mother’s hug. Shaun drinks it all in. When the arm is pulled away, he convulses on the bed. Death. Finally.

“There’s nothing left to do but say goodbye…”, laughs Shirt Man.

V    

A blast to the chest. Shaun feels as if he’s having a heart attack- a feeling that vanishes as quickly as it came, leaving behind barely an afterimage as something else, something more urgent, pulses inside him. He can hear something pounding, so close, almost as if it’s beating the insides of his skull.

His eyes open and a tidal wave hits him. The moonlight shimmering on every speck of dust floating in the air around him. The breathing of the neighbor’s dog. The stench of a long-forgotten chip under the bed. It’s all too much. Too much. Shaun wants to just curl up on the ground and let everything wash over him. To just… not be there. 

But he can’t. The pounding is getting stronger. It demands something from him. What, he cannot tell- only that a scent is coming from the living room, beckoning him, conquering every other emotion until his existence is reduced to a constant, meaningless barrage of stimuli. The creaking of his soles on the floor. The almost painful coldness of the door handle. The sweet, sickly perfume of shampoo, applied earlier in the day. The glint of half-formed tears in a pair of eyes. The slushing of blood coursing through veins. And the pounding of a heart, quickly accelerating. There’s nothing else. Nothing to think, nothing to consider. No hope to stop what’s going to happen. Nothing but red.

Elation. Peace. Ecstasy. Everything he could ever want or need, the only thing that matters, that will ever matter. It comes in delightful waves, coming slower and slower to Shaun until his heavenly tranquility fades away.

She looks too white, almost hurting his eyes. Shaun can almost see how cold his sister’s body is. The almost invisible marks he left on her neck. 

No. It’s not real. Can’t be. He refuses. 

He’s standing on a street he has never seen before. How did he get here? Dazed, he looks down. The red is too bright, strident, painful. The coppery smell, overwhelming. No, it can’t be her blood. How long was he… out?

A voice sings in the distance. Where? Shaun doesn’t know. He takes one unsure step, then another. Maybe he should clean up. Maybe he should hide. Maybe he should run the other way. But the song beckons, the night awaits, the city wears a new vibrancy. Step by step, he goes deeper into the maze of alleyways, one hungry shadow among many.

His heart is not beating. He knows it. And yet he can feel the tension in his chest, like the pain from a phantom limb. He can taste his sin like tar in his mouth. He feels hollowed out, and the space of what he once was filled by the dense fog of shame. He follows the song. There’s nothing else for him to do- and part of him hopes and dreads that the silent melody will lead him to another few precious, terrible moments of sweet, red relief.

Did you like this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[mrsleonkennedy]

Creating the yanbois in Sims 4 and "accidentally" trapping them in the basement:

(I was inspired to do this after Nick creates Fone and Krow in Sims 4. And please dont attac me, ik their appearance is not accurate bc there's a limited male cc that fits on them, and im using mostly maxis match cc bc alpha cc is not my taste so yea, its hard to find exactly the hair and their exact ootd. Just doing this for fun, instead of doing my laundry and going to grocery)

(From left to right: Ezra, Friend, Harper, Fone, Krow, Ren, Nova and MC)

DAY 1:

- MC just invited them to a dinner party. They didnt suspect anything, maybe MC just like the basementcore aesthetic they've said. Until they realized, the door wont open and MC is nowhere to be found..

- its time for a group huddle with Mallows (the cat in a bee costume) as their advisor. Mallows keeps going down in the basement, maybe bc Fone is there? Idk but yea, im just going to make him my warden. Mallows will be MC's eyes.. But something happen:

- well, Mallows the Cat in a Bee Costume, is a strict warden. He keeps hissing and ends up fighting with Nova and Fone (the betrayal). Everytime they do group huddle, Mallows are doing jiu jitsu on them 😂 The reason: Mallows just woke up and choose violence that day.

-and theres Friend, the type of roommate who loves to clean, like the first thing he do is judge my kitchen counter and brushed it aggresively, like hey its not even dirty!? Friend doesnt care that he has been trapped in a basement. The most important thing is to make this place clean. The entire time, besides Mallows Wrestlemania segment, Rens infamous Mac & Cheese and the group meeting, he goes back cleaning and washing the dishes.

- and here is Ezra questioning how MC pulled a reverse uno card on him and yep! thats the face of pure regrets of eating Ren's Mac & Cheese. (I missed to take a screenshot of that moment when Ren is cooking Mac and Cheese, Fone and Nova keeps teaching him how to cook, Ren dropping the salt shaker in the pan and Ezra being the first one to eat it)

- Nova and Harper fighting for this one bed, even tho there are 7 beds. They keep doing a staring contest, whoever blink, will lose this bed (like its always this bed, sometimes if Harper is the one who sleep on this one, Nova would sleep on the floor instead of choosing another bed 😭 Nova, i have this urge to put a vent on the basement just to spite you.. Stop sleeping on the flooooor!

- Ren and Krow napping peacefully on their first day as long as Ren promised to never cook again. And yes, finally they used their own bed! They discovered that the bed I put in there is for sleeping not for just aesthetic n shit, praise the lo-

- and a rare photo of Fone exercising 😊 after turning off the tv everytime someone watches it. Fone cares about MC's electric bill. Be like Fone. I refuse to use motherlode so you really need to save on electricity guys.

- and introducing MC, was recently turned as a vampire and instead of buying a blood pack, they choose to build a basement, and put all the yanbois and make them her own blood bank.

Will try to add the another yanbois like Virgil, Robin, Morogh, Henry, Keith, Ten etc. Just hoping that my Sims wont crash 🤞 (bc the maximum household members including pets are 8, so i think but im hoping that it will not be laggy when I add another batch of yanbois hahahahaha, i can hear now my pc cursing me in c++ language 😂)

[theelectronicstranger]

Ultimates #1 Discussion

          If you have not read this issue of Ultimates, then please stop reading and go read this book because I really enjoyed its first issue. I think it’s worth your time and money, so go support it if you can.

This was a really strong first issue for the Ultimates series. What this issue really showed well is how this team is so unprepared for the mess they’re about to go into. As well as this team is made up of misfits right now, where nobody really has any power to change this world. Right now, Thor is wounded and a new member of their team, Captain America, is probably going to need time to adjust to this new world:

Wounded Thor:

Captain America Out of the Ice:

It’s weird to call a team that has Reed Richards, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers and Thor a team full of misfits and outcasts but that’s what they are in this universe. They’re misfits and outcasts. They’re even labeled as terrorists in this universe because people think they caused the explosion in New York. Nobody really thinks of them as heroes. They’re also utterly clueless in how to change this universe and how to defeat the Maker. For example, the way Tony Stark sent out those “Origin Machines” had good intentions but not the best execution. This issue explained how Tony chose the people to send out those origin machines to and why he did it to begin with:

In Tony’s eyes this should have worked because he’s done the math and the science to determine that once he sent these cubes out, the people he chose would want to be heroes. However, I felt that this was way too optimistic, and that Steve Rogers was right when he said: “You can’t start a revolution from your living room. Revolutions start on the ground.”, which I took to mean that these origin machines are too impersonal and that to inspire people to change this world they’ll need more than the gift of their stolen powers and a video recording of Tony telling them that this world is wrong. Tony didn’t really think about how impersonal his origin machines were. He thought that maybe a lot of these people would try to be heroes once they found out the truth of this world; but unfortunately, what happened was that only two to three people, Spider-Man, Hawkeye (Clint Barton?), and Captain Marvel (Carol Danvers?), took those packages and tried to do something with them:

We see two people on that last panel, who I think are Carol Danvers and Clint Barton. I really want to know what happens to these characters because it seems that Carol Danvers might have died? I’m only saying that because in that panel they said that: “It looks like only one or two took. The rest… all rejected, intercepted, or deceased.”. Spider-Man is still running around being a hero as we see from his book, but we also see Clint Barton seems to have tried to be Hawkeye but then gave it up. That’s two right there, so what happened to Carol? Unless they’re saying Carol is the second hero that accepted their destiny and that because Clint gave it up that he isn’t a hero anymore? I’m not really sure and I hope we get to see these characters more in the next issues of this book. The only reason I thought Carol died is because it looks like her power malfunctioned in the last panel. I’m not sure though but I hope she’s not dead because I’d love to see Carol/ Captain Marvel in this universe.

Also, that quote: “It looks like only one or two took. The rest… all rejected, intercepted, or deceased.”, and that last panel really showed how poorly thought-out Tony’s plan was. Sure, he had good intentions in doing this and he tried to calculate so much of it, but the fact that a lot of these origin machines were taken by people that were not meant to have it or that these origin machines’ owners died just shows that this plan was not well executed and was not well thought of. For example, in Ultimate Spider-Man #5, we found out that the Shocker we’ve been seeing in that book got the Shocker Gauntlets from somebody that got a heart attack after seeing Tony Stark’s hologram from the origin machines:

This shows the oversight within Tony’s plan even further because it shows that Tony actually ended up creating a villain rather than a hero. I also feel like this could even foreshadow how Tony could become a villain in the future. He’s literally called Iron Lad in this universe and there have been hints and nudges that Tony might be the Kang in the Ultimate Invasion story that launched this universe. I hope that the stories this Ultimates run show us is how Tony avoids becoming the Kang that we saw instead of him turning into that Kang.

          Next, I want to talk about Hank Pym and Janet Van Dyne. I love that they are pest exterminators in this universe. I like how even in this new universe they are doing something bug related like their lives are so connected to bugs. We actually see them take a call from a restaurant owner who has a “pest” problem. We then find out that these “pests” are Moloids:

I think these panels greatly presents how perverted this universe has become due to the Maker’s influence that the people within it do not care for other life forms and these people would want to destroy them without a single objection. The Moloids, whether these people think it or not, are people too but the evils of this world has been so rampant and so influential to society that the mainstream idea of them is that they’re pests. I’m actually really happy that they show both Janet and Hank not wanting to take on this job because it shows that they have compassion and kindness for others. I feel like if this was written in the old Ultimate Universe, they’d try to do something edgy just for shock value, but in here they’re actually showing that these “heroes” have qualities that would make them good heroes.

          I also really like how this issue focuses on Hank Pym and his alternate universe self. This book establishes that Tony also put in some files about the person he sent those origin machines to and who they were in a different universe, a.k.a. their 616-universe counterpart. Nobody has a crazier and more muddied history than 616 Hank Pym, who was famous for a long time for beating his wife, Janet van Dyne; he has even become a villain at times; and he even merged with Ultron at some point:

The Infamous Hank Pym Panel:

Pym Merged with Ultron:

If you show somebody that they could be that person, a person that would hurt their own wife and even might become a villain one day then they’ll probably be very hesitant to delve into that life and that’s exactly what we get here in this issue:

Basically, this version of Hank has read everything about the 616-version of himself. That’s why he’s so hesitant to want to open these origin machines up and get the powers he could have had because he doesn’t want to be like 616 Hank Pym. He would never want to hurt his wife but this alternate future/ universe he read about shows that he will while he is a hero. I love that you can tell that he’s afraid that he might hurt Janet and he tries to reassure her that he wont but he also feels guilty because he feels like he’s already done those things to her from just reading those files. It shows that this Hank is very empathetic and feels remorseful for things that his alternate universe counterpart did. That’s why he needs a bit more encouragement into wanting to become a hero:

I really like how Captain America encourages Hank Pym into becoming Ant-Man (Giant Man). It goes back to their problem earlier with recruiting heroes. This is the more personal approach rather than just giving them the origin machines with the video recording of Tony. By being there, Captain America can help ease Hank’s doubts and fears that come with these origin machines. I also think that it’s really interesting to be presented with your potential future and having that future be the worst representation of yourself. Now I’m even more interested in this version of Hank Pym because I want to see how he’ll approach being a hero and how he’ll avoid becoming the 616-version of himself. I also like Captain America's emphasis that this Hank Pym and the 616 Hank Pym are different people. The things this hank Pym saw are the 616 hank Pym's sins and mistakes not his. I don’t think he will be like his 616-version by the way. I think he’s too kind and I’m pretty sure the Maker neutered him a bit with his “accident”:

I’m pretty sure this means that he won’t be as smart as his 616 counterpart and that he won’t have as big an ego like his 616-counterpart did.

Also, I really enjoyed how Janet took to being a superhero in this issue. As soon as she puts on her Wasp costume she gets hit with a beam and her reaction to it is like she’s just been shot with a dose of life:

I just enjoyed how happy she was and how excited she was to be this version of herself. I’m very interested in how she’ll be moving forward. Obviously, both Janet and Hank are not doing this superhero thing by themselves, so I’m hoping it’ll be easier for them to be heroes because they have people to rely on. However, we don’t really know how reliable this Ultimates team is.

          I’ve really enjoyed this first issue of Ultimates. I did not think I was going to enjoy it as much as I did. In fact, when they anounced that Deniz Camp was writing this title, I was less interested in it. Not because I didn’t like Deniz Camp but more so because I thought Jonathan Hickman was going to be writing this book and I wasn’t very familiar with Deniz Camp’s writing. However, after reading this issue, I’m very interested in what Deniz Camp has in store for these heroes in the future and I’ll be buying the second issue as soon as it comes out. Also, I really want to say that Juan Frigeri’s art has been amazing this issue. I love how he drew those Moloids in that one panel and I’m really excited to read and see the internal art for this book because of him. Also, I'm wondering when we'll see the Human Torch (not the Johnny Storm/Fantastic Four one) because in the Free Comic Book Day issue, they showed the Ultimates freeing him:

          Anyways, thank you for reading this discussion. This one was pretty long so thank you for sticking with me. Tell me if this issue worked for you or not. What were your favorite moments from this issue? What moments did you not like? What do you think of the team so far? What do you think of Hank and Janet? I’m interested in what you guys thought of this book overall. Thank you again for reading this. Have a great day. My next discussion should be Ultimate X-Men #4.

[tarastabz]

-Visiting Gale

It's been one week.

One week since Sam wore her father's ghostface costume.

One week since Tara had to see two other friends dying at their hands.

One week since Gale almost die.

Tara knows that the relationship between Gale and Sam is complicated, but she also knows how much her sister looks up to her.

It's almost like she's the mother figure that sam has never had.

And if Tara has to be honest, she also sees Gale that way.

Sam has been miserable ever since Gale ended up at the hospital. Unless it's to go to work, She barely goes out of her room, barely talks to anyone and barely eats.

Of course, Tara won't let her sister's self-destructive mechanism win.

Sam is stubborn, but Tara is on another level of stubbornness.

"Okay you need to stop, get out of the bed"

"No, leave me alone" sam said, covering herself with the covers.

'25, but she acts like a child', tara thinks.

Tara, being the sweet little sister she is, pushed sam out of her bed, and that ended up with Sam falling on her back on the floor.

"TARA! Did you forget i'm still injured?" Yes, actually. Tara was so focused on pursuing her mission to get Sam out of bed that she did forget her sister got stabbed.

Well, it's too late now.

"Not my fault. I tried to ask you nicely but you didn't listen" Tara said with a smug smile on her face. She then added "Go take a shower and get dressed, we're going somewhere"

Sam, of course, did not listen to her and decided that the bed was a much better option than what Tara proposed.

Why did Tara even think that it was going to be easy to convince her?

"SAM! will you just get the fuck out of this bed?" Now Tara was gettin impatient.

"i'm older than you, and i can do whatever i want"

Oh.

Okay. Sam wants to play the big sister card? Let's play it then.

Sam thought she won. Tara finally stopped trying.

But Sam should know better than that.

Tara Carpenter doesn't give up easily.

It's been 30 minutes since Tara left her room without saying anything. Has she gone too far? Has Tara really gotten offended by her words?

Sam was about to get out of bed and check on Tara, when she heard HER voice.

"Get out of this bed c'mon"

No. She did not call her.

"I know you heard me."

Oh no, she did.

Kirby Reed was standing at Sam's door with that little shit smirking next to her.

"You said you wouldn't follow my orders because i'm not old enough, so i called someone that is old enough to help me out" Tara said in a proud and devilish tone.

Yeah, Tara was right. Her plan worked. Sam took a shower and got dressed, and with kirby's help, she was even able to convince her to eat something.

But now there's the actual real hard part.

"So where are we going?" Sam asked curiously.

Tara and Kirby kept glancing at each other without saying a word.

"Hello? Are you two still here? Where are we going?" But after not getting an answer again, Sam lost her *already* non-existent patience. "If you don't tell me, i'm going back to my room, and it won't be that easy to get me out of -"

"We're going to see Gale" Tara decided to admit.

"Absolutely not" Sam ran into her room again and slammed the door.

Mh. That went better than she expected.

"I'm going to talk to her" Kirby said, already heading to Sam's room, but Tara stopped her.

She had to be the one dealing with it. It's her sister.

"Sam? I just want to talk, i promise that if you really don't want to, we don't have to go" Tara tried to be as convincing as possible.

A few minutes pass before a distraught Sam opens the door and falls into Tara's arms, sobbing.

Oh... something must be really wrong with her, Tara knows her sister. She doesn't act like this. The only time she saw Sam being an emotional wreck was when Gale was attac- Wait.

Tara was starting to connect the dots.

"You don't- you don't think that Gale getting hurt is your fault do you?"

"Yes, i do, because- because IT IS my fault. Why would she even want to see me? I'm the one who put her in a hospital bed." Sam cried even harder, feeling completely unable to calm down.

Tara didn't say anything.

Her original plan was to NOT force Sam into going to see Gale.

But Tara knows that Sam will never believe her words unless she sees it with her own eyes.

And that's why she drags Sam out of her room and into Kirby's car.

The car ride to the hospital was hell for both Tara and Kirby, Sam hasn't stopped complaining for one second. She's acting like an actual child throwing tantrums.

Oh, Tara is so going to tease her for it when she feels better.

They finally arrive at the hospital.

Tara ends up literally having to push Sam into Gale's room. She knew that it would've been hard but not THIS hard.

There's a moment of silence between them. No one dares to speak. They're just all staring at each other.

The peaceful silence is broken when Tara and Kirby start laughing unstoppably at Sam's inaudible "Hi Gale." Of course, they were aware that Sam was going to kick their asses the moment they stepped one foot out of this room.

But at least it was worth it.

"What happened to you? Did i break the big bad Samantha Carpenter?" Gale said, surprising everyone.

Tara, for the first time in days, saw Sam genuinely smiling.

It's been another week from the day Sam finally visited Gale at the hospital, and they've been inseparable ever since.

You might think it's a positive thing.

But no.

For Tara, it isn't.

Everyday. Every single day. Sam refuses to leave Gale's hospital room when visiting hours end.

And Tara, every single day, has to forcefully drag Sam out of the room.

It's not always bad. Sometimes, Sam is more collaborative than other days, but today is not one of them.

"Sam, please, for the love of god, we need to go, or they'll call the cops... again."

"No. Who even decides visiting hours? I can visit Gale whenever i want."

"Yeah, that's not how it works"

"And i couldn't care-"

"I am demanding you to get the hell out of my room and listen to your sister." Gale interrupts the sister's daily fight.

"But-" Sam saw the look Gale gave her and decided it was better to shut her mouth and stop giving Tara a hard time. "Okay, but promise me you will call me if you need anything"

"Yes Sam. Now go"

"And remember to stay hydrated"

"Yes"

"And get some sleep"

"I will, if you finally let me rest"

"And text me when you wake up"

"I will get up from this bed and kick you out myself if you don't disappear in the next 5 seconds."

Alright, it's time for sam to actually leave the room this time.

Mh Tara is being too quiet, Sam thought.

Weird- oh.

Maybe she should really try to make this easier for her.

Tara was asleep on a chair outside of Gale's room.

[daydreamgoddess14]

First Impressions

MASTERLIST

Ahem. Hi. I've never posted on Tumblr before. Yet here I am with a mad crush on River Cartwright and instead of working all day, I did this. I'm not entirely sure I know how to post on Tumblr so forgive me if this is all kinds of wrong! I'm a grown woman and i haven't written a fictional word in about 15 years so I'm rusty af. If you hate it then that's fine too, it'll just live rent free in my head :)

First Impressions

Rive Cartwright/OFC

Rating: general for now. I might be a smut writer- who knows!

*********

“Ma’am, I think we’ve got a problem?” The nervous desk sergeant wrung his hands as he hovered outside the open plan office door at Aldgate station. “It’s about the fella in the cells. He wasn’t taking the piss, he’s MI5. Well, sort of anyway.” DI Lexie Andrews looked up from her laptop,

“Shit. I’ll be down in 5. Move him to an interview room please. And for godsake remove the cuffs.”

River was bloody freezing, he’d been full of adrenaline – running as fast as his legs would take him

when his mark had disappeared and he was left to crash head first into two police officers helping a tourist. Heart pounding, manic eyes and sweating, he certainly hadn’t helped the cause of not getting arrested. And then there was the total lack of I.D. And the gun shoved into the back of his jeans.

Lamb was going to have a field day with this one. He was sat in the cell, legs splayed, elbows on his

knees and his head in his hands when the cell door opened with a dull clunk. The young officer

who’d booked him in was stood in the doorway with a set of keys.

“If you could come with me sir, we’re just going to one of the interview rooms and I’ll get rid of the

cuffs.” Well, that hadn’t taken too long. His watch was sat somewhere in a locker, but he knew he’d

only been in the cell for around an hour. The sun, which had been low in the sky when he was

arrested, had just settled beneath the horizon.

“You ran my name and prints?”

“Yes sir, all confirmed.”

“So can’t I just go?”

“We’ll just be a couple of minutes, if that’s ok?” the officer looked so earnest, River hadn’t the heart

to get too angry. He stood with a sigh and weaved through the dingy grey corridors. Within a couple

of minutes, the door which had been left slight ajar was pushed open.

“Mr. Cartwright? Apologies – do you go by agent? I’m DI Lexie Andrews, I’m the only one left to come with the grovelling apology I’m afraid – the officers who arrested you originally have gone back out to a disturbance.”

“River is fine, I get it – no ID, no phone, they had no way to know who I really was. Not thoroughly anyway.”

“Thank you, that’s very gracious. You may not have had a phone, but they certainly did, and they’ll

be reminded of that when they get back. It’s not like ‘I’m an MI5 agent’ is a common tactic for avoiding arrest around here.”

“No harm, gave me a chance to get my breath back.” River replied with a wry grin.

“Well, we are forever in your debt – if there’s anything you need from us in terms of feet on the

ground, just give me a call.” Lexie slid her card across the table with an additional number

handwritten across the top, “that’s my mobile number in case your request falls on deaf ears here.”

“Appreciate it, thank you.” Lexie reached into her back pocket and handed him his watch,

“I think this is all you were booked in with?”

“Yeah, helpfully my ID and phone are back at Slough House.”

“Your gun is locked away, I’ll get Lewis to give it back as you leave. I didn’t realise MI5 have an office over this way to be honest. Do you want a lift back, I’m on my way out anyway?”

“That would be great, not sure I’m ready to run back to be honest.” Lexie smiled,

********

“You head to the front desk for your gun, and I’ll get my bag.”

By the time River was back at Slough House, only Lamb remained upstairs. On hearing the front door, his signature callsign sounded through the building to summon River to the top floor.

“Did you collapse and have a heart attack or something?” he asked as River slumped into the chair across the desk.

“How did you manage that, you fucking idiot?”

“Better than that, I got arrested.”

"Ran into two coppers with my gun and no ID”

“Fucking idiot.” Lamb repeated

“The DI apologised and let me go as soon as she realised. Could be useful to have her as an ally – in

case we ever need some help?”

“You fancy her more like,” Lamb scoffed and mimicked a high pitched impression of River, “I’ll just keep her on side in case I want to get my dick wet.”

“You’re disgusting. I’m going home.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“She was gorg- actually, doesn’t matter. I’m going home. I’m ignoring you.”

“Don’t let that phone number burn a hole in your pocket. You never know when you’ll need an ally”

********

Lamb cackled as River made a swift exit. “Fucking idiot.”

Lexie felt as if she’d been pushed out of the depths of the tube station rather than walking out. She

was shoulder barged in a wave of people into the sunlight and at once stood to one side away from

the steps. Coffee. It was definitely time for coffee. It had been a few days since she’d driven River

back to Slough House. She’d parked outside for a couple of minutes, peering up at the four storey

block which had certainly seen better days. It didn’t look like MI5. She’d dropped a couple of texts to

old station-mates and had been enlightened to the true purpose of the ‘Aldgate branch’ and

discussed the findings with her lesser-spotted flatmate the next night.

“Failed agents. That’s what they are at Slough House. No good for real MI5 – for whatever reason.”

Her flatmate, an A&E doctor, looked up from her first hot meal in three days.

“So, you think you’re meeting James Bond, but he’s actually the poor man’s James Bond?”

“Didn’t look like the poor man’s version” Lexie laughed.

“Did you get his number?” Sophie asked, abandoning her dinner and picking up her wine glass,

“what’s his name?”

“No, I was on duty. Besides, that’s a bit… I dunno. His name is River.”

“Modern, empowering? Unusual name. Does he have a surname?”

“Forward. I don’t do forward. I do shy and retiring, don’t put yourself out there, must protect self.

What do you need a surname for? Planning to authorise your own background check?”

“Never meet anyone, never enjoy yourself, never open yourself up to new friends and stay alone

forever?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Sophie raised her eyebrows, “I’m joking. I’m not eternally single. I’m just single at the moment.” Lexie clarified.

“Sounds boring. You need some fun. Surname?”

“What’s with the surname?”

“I’m just curious. You never know when a tall, gorgeous man will turn up in A&E”

“I have two points there, one, I never said he was gorgeous. Two, I need some fun? Said the doctor

who works about 80 hours a week and basically lives at the hospital?”

“Ah, but there is a life at the hospital. And spare student rooms to bunk in.”

“With a very beautiful co-worker by any chance?” Lexie challenged.

“Jess and I take whatever time together we can. Would it be nice to go out, go to the theatre or for

dinner? Yes, of course. But this is our current reality, so we make the best of it. Speaking of, she’s

just about to have a pee break so I’m going to call her and say goodnight.”

“Tell her I miss her, tell her I’ll cook next time your both off. Maybe around 2025? His surname is Cartwright.”

********

“Is that the time or the year?! I’ll look out for him in A&E. Surely an MI5 agent who manages to get

arrested is bound to end up there sooner or later.” Sophie grinned as she disappeared with her

phone. Sophie had been long gone by the time Lexie had woken up that morning. Back to three days in a row at the hospital. Lexie made a mental note to text Jess to arrange dinner one night soon.

Looking after her friends, who spent their lives looking after others, was her love language and her

couple of hours with Sophie had her worried that they were both working too hard. Distracted, she found herself at the front of the queue at the small coffee shop.

“Large cappuccino please, to take away.” Lexie glanced around the room. She immediately

recognised the tall figure at the window bar, head down in the local paper. He looked a lot fresher

than the last time she’d seen him. “Could I also get another of whatever he ordered please? And one

of these.” She pointed at a pain au chocolate and waved her phone at the card machine. “Would you

mind taking it over to him, I can’t stop.” She smiled widely and disappeared as quickly as she’d

arrived. As she passed the window, she saw the waitress put the coffee and pastry in front of River. He looked up in surprise and confusion and as he turned back to the window, he saw Lexie walk

past. She tipped her coffee cup in his direction with a smile and was gone before he had a chance to process the encounter.

By mid-afternoon, River was so mind numbingly bored he was sure he could just go to sleep stood up. He’d been researching a new lead all day and his head was ready to explode. He rubbed

his eyes and when they’d refocused, he was looking directly at the business card on his desk. He

reached for his laptop and punched the name on the card into Google. Old habits – didn’t everyone

Google new people when they met them? There were a handful of relevant hits, an entirely private

Facebook profile with only the most current profile picture – looking fairly recent – visible, an article

from a local newspaper from a couple of years ago with her official comments as the leading DI on the case discussed. Nothing exciting or revealing. He decided to go to the source and picked up his

phone, opening Whatsapp.

“Thank you for the fuel this morning – they do the best pastries there. I should probably stop eating them. That or take up running into coppers again.”

A double tick appeared and almost at once went blue. The sign of someone with their phone in their hand already. He wondered what she was doing.

“Please don’t get arrested again. Little Lewis on the front desk might explode. Soon as he found out you weren’t lying about being MI5 you became his idol.”

He chuckled at the eyeroll emoji she’d added. The poor kid had obviously never heard of the rejects

department.

“Promise I’ll do my best. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“I find it hard to believe you’d disappoint anyone.”

River had just sat back in his chair with a wide grin when the follow up message appeared.

Lexie’s colleagues heard her palm make contact with her face from across the room. She screenshotted the short exchange and forwarded the image to Sophie with the caption 'Kill me now. I am literally the worst at this. The worst.' In true solidarity, she received a row of crying-laughing faces in return.

“Professionally I mean.”

He laughed, picturing her wringing her hands and frantically realising how her original message sounded. He made the quick decision to prolong her faux pas and sniggered as he responded.

“I’m far more likely to disappoint on a professional basis than on a personal one. I go out of

my way to make sure I don’t disappoint on a personal level.”

It was Lexie’s turn to sit back with a small “oof”. She didn’t have a response to that one which she

was almost certain wouldn’t escalate. Shy and introverted or not, she was still a detective. Feeling

emboldened, she furiously typed out her response and then turned off the Wi-Fi on her phone.

“I bet you do. I’m sure there are many who would sing your praises.”

*********

River stared at his phone. Was she flirting?!

Two weeks later, with a handful of sporadic and entirely conversational messages exchanged later,

River received a message so early in the morning that he wondered if he was the intended recipient.

“Are you around this morning? I need coffee and I could do with not being left alone with my own brain for a little while.”

He frowned and responded straight away. He arrived first at the café he’d been at before –

practically equidistant between the Aldgate station and Slough House as it turned out. He got two seats at the window bar with two coffees and croissants. He watched her push out of the crowd

from the tube station and cross the road, almost doing a double take. Gone were the jeans and

baggy jumper and the messy hair. She had a calf length black wrap dress with the asymmetric hem

rising to her knee where the dress tied. The dress had a deep but modest v-neck, and she wore an

unbuttoned navy coat the same length as the dress. “Shit.” He whispered as Lexie swept past the

window with a small wave and grin. He stood as she met him at the window seat and gestured to the high barstool seat.

“Will you be ok up there? You look lovely. I mean, it doesn’t look like you’re heading to the station?” he stuttered a little. She smelled of fresh air and a heady perfume he didn’t recognise.

“Oh I’m fine, thanks. I’m in court today.” She pulled herself up into the chair. “Not sure these chairs are built for me though.” She blushed. The dress certainly highlighted curves he had noticed before, but now they were unavoidable. The wrap dress exposed more of her legs than she was particularly

comfortable with but she adjusted it and reached for her coffee. “I get so nervous when I have to go

to court. I just get all worked up and anxious and if I don’t find someone to talk to, I end up with my

brain just running away with itself and I get in my own head and start to doubt every decision I made

on the case.” She exhaled with a shaky breath. “Sorry, rambling.”

“You’re ok, whatever I can do to help.” River put a reassuring hand on her arm and pushed the pastry towards her. “You should eat. It’ll help. Are you allowed to talk about it, or would you rather talk about something else?”

“I can’t talk about the case. I’ll be a mess. Sorry I called you, my flatmate is working again and it’s not the same being at the station. I need to see someone impartial. Tell me about your work, please?”

The pleading look in her eyes sent River’s stomach somewhere around his knees. He hadn’t seen her

in person in the two weeks since his arrest, but his mind somehow kept taking him back to that

interview room and the first moment he’d seen her. He started talking about Slough House, about

his failed training, his colleagues, Jackson, his grandfather. He didn’t slow down until she visibly relaxed. She’d picked through her croissant and finished her coffee. Her hands had finally stopped

shaking and she rewarded him with the biggest smile. “Thank you. So much, I feel loads better.”

“No problem, what time have you got til?” He checked his watch, it was 10am.

“Midday. I’m not sure how long I’ll be on the stand, hopefully just today.”

“Ok, still got some time. Your turn, tell me about your work?” She told him about the last 2 years

spent as a DI, the challenges of being a woman in the MET – especially at this point in time, she

despaired at not having enough time to focus on cases which she desperately wanted to attend to

but couldn’t due to firefighting elsewhere. She spoke so passionately about the sex trafficking ring

she was trying to investigate that River nearly signed up to the police there and then. “And how do

you feel about these recent cases involving officers?” He asked.

“Awful. I’m lucky enough to have not met anyone like those people. That I know of, anyway. And if I

did then I would report them internally. I’m struggling with the fact that there are colleagues out

there who probably knew all along and allowed it to continue. No wonder the whole country thinks

we’ve got a bad fucking orchard not just a few bad apples.” He raised an eyebrow at her language, he got the feeling that she didn’t just throw around bad language. “I need to go. Thank you for this, I

owe you one.” She gave his hand a squeeze and stepped down from the window seat. He hesitated

for a second, wondering whether to shake her hand? Hug her? Before his brain could function, she

gave him a very brief hug. He just about had time to catch her waist and pull her to him, probably

slightly closer than she’d expected. The blush in her cheeks was instant, and as they parted, he

noticed that it dipped down into the V of her dress. “Bye River.” She smiled and disappeared. River

spent the afternoon at Slough House in serene silence. Shirley was visibly horrified by his good

mood, and Catherine was caught completely off guard.

Chapter 2

[just-1other-nerd]

Well, my therapist canceled our appointment this morning because she's sick which sucks for the both of us.

So I guess I'll vomit out my feelings and messed up thoughts here because where else can I put them now?

There are mainly four observations I want to talk about:

First of all I'm thinking a lot about my bullying trauma lately, like remembering how unwell I felt, remembering what my former class mates did to me and how the ones I meet again act like they never did me any harm. I remember pranks, insults and manipulation. But it is even worse that there are moments like that 5 day school trip in year 7 where I know something happened and I ended up being called a monster and I don't even remember all the details because I just repressed those memories. I wouldn't call myself the most forgiving person like I have lots of grudges because of smaller things, so whatever happened must have been really bad if I can't remember it. I'm sure I said lots of bad things back to those people too, because hurt people lash out. I think I wished this one gaslighter to get brain damage once and I regretted it and regret it now. My mum once told me that for her it was like I came home from war instead of school. A saw a insta reel in which a person was talking about how now that they escaped the situation that caused their trauma, they don't know what's next because it makes up such a huge part of their personality and they've been in survival mode for so long that they get anxious thinking that it could go wrong again any minute. But they also said that they are looking forward to finding out who they are without the thing that caused the trauma. And I felt that. I escaped the situation about almost 3 years ago but I'm still recovering and I still have those defence and coping mechanisms from back then. And I like found out that I actually don't care that much about grades, I still care and I'm proud of my accomplishments but it kinda isn't that important anymore, like I'm (almost) okay with screwing up and only being among the best instead of THE best, just like I was back in primary school. I also found out that I like lots of stuff my friends introduced me to like K drama and that I can be silly with them (and that I like that) instead of acting condecending when people are being a bit stupid for fun (in my defence lots of the stuff I looked down upon was sexist/involved drugs etc.) <- look I did it again, I defended myself before someone could even attac.

The second thing is I think I could be neurodivergent. Like I have always been a picky eater but not just because of taste but also because of food texture. The same goes for fabric and certain necklines and stuff because it makes me feel uncomfortable. I used to wear tights no matter what season when I was a kid and was convinced I could never wear pants without them and I still don't like it if pants are loose around my legs so I only wear skinny jeans. I'm very perfectionistic at times and so incredibly stubborn and I need get things done my way and have like this weird tunnel vision where I can't really see alternatives myself but need others to show them to me (like in group projects). But I can also be so lazy and unmotivated that I just refuse to do anything and hope I get away with it. I can be laser focused sometimes, like read in the most chaotic public space but then again I can get distracted so easily by just one sound and like get nothing done at all for the next 10 minutes. I oftentimes scribble or fidget when I'm nervous or need to concentrate. I bite my nails to an unhealthy extent since I was little. I cried a lot when I was a child when we sold things, I can't let go of stuff, it got better but it's still very gutwrenching. I've always hated being wrong and loved being right. Oftentimes I'm so focused on myself and how I feel in a situation that I forget that others might not feel the same way about what is happening right now which leads to me missing (important) social clues. It's not like I can't interpret the expressions of others but I just don't pay attention in that moment of that I'm so convinced that my pov is right that I just don't think about another way to view things, even though I'm relatively average at being able to empathize with others but it just becomes an afterthought and then it's too late. I'm able to reflect on things. Lots of people think I'm arrogant or condecending when I don't even mean to come across that way. I was always considered smart (I have great fact memory) and relatively creative but also weird and socially awkward in a sense that I just didn't get along with lots of my peers. On the one hand people thought I was mature for my age (because I could articulate myself better than most of the kids my age and just knew more in general) but on the other I could be to childish and immature when others upset me and I really have a temper and I hold a grude for forever. One time when I was too old for that I just made such a scene because I didn't want to go on that hiking trip (god, I was so awful that day, my poor parents). I can become obsessed with things, mostly books, series and movies. I'm basically a fandom wiki at this point. I like and notice patterns lots of people just don't see. My dad often compares me to Sheldon Cooper who has Asperger when we watch TBBT (I know he's not the best autism representation but he introduced me to the topic). And like lots of times I read some post and think "huh relatable" and then I look at the tags and it says "autism" or "ADHD" or "neurodivergent" and I've always related to autism-coded characters and neurodivergent characters. But then (depends on whether I'm really neurodivergent or not) my imposter syndrome or common sense kicks in and is like "Just because you relate that doesn't mean you are. You are way too normal and basic for that. You just want to be special. You disrespect the community by claiming you're a part of it without even really knowing. Self diagnosis is toxic and most of the time one's wrong. You only want an excuse for not fitting in. You only want a reason for being bullied," and stuff like this. My imposter sydrom also says those things everytime I think about whether I'm bisexual or not. Like I always get exicted when I see the community succeed or represented and I'm so deep into queer cuture, even before I knew what it was I already had a tendency towards this kind of media.

The third thing is that I'm hating shopping so much. Like I love fashion, it's just so much fun, but everytime I want to be fashionable I just realise I can't be. One of the reasons for this is as I mentioned above that how fabrics feel can be difficult or that I don't like certain necklines because I feel like they expose stuff and it makes me feel very uncomfortable. This is the part that has always been there. But then again there is a kinda low confidence when it comes to my style that's because of never really having the same style as my peers which didn't make the bullying better. I don't like make-up because I'm too lazy and love sleep and because I've never really done it I suck at it and it's bad for your skin. But like if you can do it well it just looks so nice and I'm in awe if my friends can do it well, it's just not for me. I can't have trendy hair styles because my hair is curly and complicated and only 20% of the time (during which I'm almost always at home) it looks incredibly beautiful. But that can also make me look older than I am. In general that's a big problem for me because if I wear something for young people that suits my criteria I often look like I'm 14 (being smaller than average also doesn't help) but if I wear a blazer or something like that I look like 35 or like a teenager dressing up as a 35 year-old. And then there are my body issues. (I know everybody has them and generally I think I'm pretty but I just feel so unfashionalbe.) Trying to buy new clothes frustrates me, like I don't want to be shapeless or like I just want a simple button-up that's for women or I just want to feel like myself and not like I play dress up. I also get sad and hate myself. In those moments I practically am the song "My Own Person" by Ezra Williams because I just want to vanish. And then there is also consumer guilt.

The fourth is that I'm procrastinating again because I'm anxiously avoidant (self diagnosis, I'm so hypocritical right now and I hate that). I should organize something for my future job right now because I should do that before the holidays (tomorrow is the last school day) but I spent the last hour or so writing this and it's already night and normally I would go to sleep now. I hate having to do that. I have to gather information and it's just so confusing. I'm mad because I've been given some misinformation but because of complicated reasons I can't say that I'm mad. I also just feel stupid for not having asked certain (important) questions.

Edit: About two weeks later. Anxiety and procrastination are still there which isn't good because next week my Abitur starts and I should really prepare more. Sometimes I do the kind of self harm when I don't eat even though I'm hungry because I don't feel like I'm worth the food.

Another thing I forgot to mention is that I have this weird fear of like falling into an abyss (metaphorically). It is just like I don't like alcohol, wich is another thing that seperated/seperates me from my peers. I don't like the taste, I don't like the smell, I don't like that it literally kills brain cells and makes you loose control over your body and behaviour. I never even tried it. It is a valid thing not to like it and people should accept it more, people are not antisocial just because they don't consume alcohol, drinking shouldn't be the social norm. As I mentioned before, back in my bullied era I was condecending and not getting wasted because I didn't get drunk was actually a thing that gave me a feeling of superiority and having this strong principal became a part of my self-worth too. So now with my bad mental health I'm worried that I'll give into the temptation of just letting loose for a while, to rebell and not give a shit and drowning my sorrows, even though I know that alcohol (as a drug) isn't cool and that it'll only make me feel better for a short time and that my body wouldn't take it well because it isn't used to it. I know it is kind of stupid and I think I've had those thoughts for a while now but helping me realize this about myself was the Baby Queen song These Drugs which expresses what I'm afraid of better than I can.

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

People will convince themselves that the only solution to past oppression is present and future oppression. This is the notion pushed by a CRT proponent, Ibram X. Kendi. My frustrations with this comes from the insane notion that discrimination is perfectly fine based on Immutable traits. What made me make this post? This video.

Now I'm sure several different types of people will comment on this post assuming it makes the rounds. So let me break down some points.

The video that prompted this one to be made is pretty disgusting, and shows that whites are probably the MOST self hating group in history. So much so they'd bow down and (literally) kiss the jack boots of black men just to prove how much of an "ally" they are. (Yes that is a real video floating around.)

The bearded man in the snow, attempts to make a valid point, but literally shoots himself in the foot claiming white people have never been oppressed or seen as less of a person. I'd like to introduce you to every single war in Europe; slavery and peasantry, and what's happened to the Armenians, Jews, Irish, and other countries during British conquest.

The trans woman in the video goes on a tangent about how easy and comfortable it was being a "hetero cis strait male". Because no white men are homeless. No white men are poor. No white men are abused. No men are harassed. No white men are passed up for jobs because of affirmative action.

To make a point towards the last point here is another video that goes over it a little bit.

Now if you want an interesting conclusion to that video, this experience actually led in part to her in committing suicide. As the experience itself caused her to become depressed. Though don't take my word for it. Watch the video.

My point is this. If you tell me that discrimination based on immutable traits is ever ok, I'm going to pick a fight. If you tell me that white people, or white men, have never suffered, I will pick a fight. History of the human race is long. We love to hate so much that we have regional hate. People from Texas hate California. People from Dallas hate people from Ft Worth. People from Shanghai hate people from Hong Kong. People from Osaka hate people from Tokyo. This phenomenon is more often referred to as Xenophobia. Though that's kind of a overplayed term. And I also partly disagree with use of most words with "Phobia" at the end because the word phobia is, "An irrational fear of". And I'm sure that most people don't have an irrational fear of other cultures so much as sometimes they misunderstand them.

Last thing I will say is this though. I try to be as fair as I can to everyone. Contrary to how people might try to portray me, I try to be fair to everyone. I either love everyone or hate everyone equally. My biggest issue with videos like this is it proves that Westerners, and specifically often White Americans, are the MOST self hating group on earth. You will not find this kind of self hate in almost any other country on earth. With is insane because there is slavery alive and well in our world. There are groups suffering and dying, or being sexually assaulted daily. There are countries with a history significantly longer than that of the US whom have hands DRENCHED in blood, conquest, and oppression. It's every country on earth. Asian nations. African nations. South American nations, Even Australia. It's insane to me how this is a thing that we even have to discuss. We need to end the demonization and end the hate. For everyone. Because this is why:

Want to know what happened between 2013 and 2015? The Radical feminism movements, followed by the Racial identarian movement, followed by the Social Justice movement. and has been slowly but surely going down more and more. If that's not enough for you to realize we are all going about this wrong, we will get to a point where these percentages are low enough we are waging war on one another based on race (And certainly there have been plenty of race based attacks/killings by all ethnicities on other groups more and more for the last 7-8 years). We did not need to end up here. We just needed to NOT hyper fixate on race the way we started to in 2015. And sure as hell not like we do now. So this new trend of "White", "Cis" or "Males" as slurs, or acceptable targetable groups for demonization needs to stop. Lest you find out what happens when people have had enough. And that's not a threat. That's a, "This group outnumbers you and when it gets to the point they are tired of sucking your dick and licking your boot, they will retaliate, and you WILL end up in a worse position then you want to. And it WILL be ugly. After which point race relations will not recover for decades or centuries. And it's probable there will be a lot of death.

I don't want that. I think Neo liberals do want that though. Because a lot of their views tend to align with racist stereotypes, and they NEED non whites to win votes. Basically? The worse race relations are (which they and their Marxist view points are the cause of) the more they get to cosplay as "allies" and keep you voting for them. The term "Democrat Plantation" is not a saying for nothing.

Last thing. (For real this time). If you are white and reading this and you disagree, kindly tell me why you have not deleted yourself if you are so evil. And before you hit me with the, "Oh well I'm one of the good ones" or "Because I need to be a white savior to all these poor stupid non whites", maybe move to a country in which you are the minority. Hell, move to china. Try to talk about the Tiananmen Square massacre. Ask them why they don't hate themselves. Assuming you live long enough to ask. Hell they might even let you be a TV star. You can scream at the TV talking about how bad an entire skin color is. I'm sure Russians, Brits, Spaniards, Irish, and some Portuguese will be thrilled to see you pushing that rhetoric.

[liskantope]

@against-forms-recognizable replied:

Neogenders (xie/xir) are an attempt by the individual to circumvent the edifice of gender. To try not having others unconsciously bring to hear the massive chains of the framework of expectations we force others into the second we hear him or her used in reference to them. To be appreciated as a person separate from all of that and to struggle to define yourself in absence of that identity template we all have forced on us from birth "the movement is being run by a bunch of kids playing silly imaginary identity games" what do you think gender is? the people who are trying to break out of it are the ones who are silly? Maybe this should be a reblog 😔

Well, I guess I'm effectively making this into part of a reblog. Mostly against my better judgment, since getting into arguments against this type of response tends to get me going down a (slightly toxic and time-sucking) rabbit hole pretty quickly.

I'm experiencing a pretty annoyed emotional reaction to these comments, and a lot of that is to do with a broader context of so many others responding to anything I have to say on trans issues along these lines, and I hope I won't be too uncharitable or take too much of it out on you here. I do appreciate you responding with your point of view.

The main thing that annoys me is that I really wish, just once, I could express an argument concerning how something one group is doing feeds into an unfortunate perception X which another group (which I've never aligned myself with) has of them, without someone reading that as "I support Perception X". Here's another reply to the OP, from a different Tumblr user, which does this same thing:

there are 69420*10^9 genders actually and I love my weird pronouns, sorry this offends you OP

I never said I believed the movement is just kids playing silly identity games, and I never said it offends me. The OP was expressing that I just think it's kind of dumb for an online form for a very formal job application to give a very random assortment of obscure nonbinary pronoun (including ones I've never even seen before) in a way that feeds into the "trans activists insist there are 50 genders" myth and enhances the aspect of the nonbinary-pronouns-movement that conservatives (a group I don't align myself with) find it easiest to mock as silly. And that it seems very unnecessary in an early-hiring-process context except for gaining superficial virtue points. Choosing to put this in a formal online job application form is what I think is silly, and blatant signally behavior is, if anything, what I find offensive.

(Also, even if I were calling weird pronouns "just a game", that is not incompatible with loving them! Nor would this imply that it's bad to love them or want them to be used, at least in certain contexts.)

As for the first reply/paragraph, while I'm sure this wasn't intentional and I know I'm being a bit uncharitable, it makes me feel a bit lectured-to on a point of view that I've had plenty of exposure to for years. On the other hand, it expresses that viewpoint more directly than I usually see it expressed, and I appreciate that: you are saying that people who like nonbinary pronouns are just trying to get away from the gendered social expectations/baggage that come with "he" and "she". (This is one of several quite distinct descriptions/explanations as to what identifying as nonbinary means. It clearly doesn't speak for all nb people!)

To which I can't resist asking, in a more plain, direct way than I've asked it before: since social progressivism over many decades has been steadily chipping away at expectations and roles that come with "he" and "she" (which I can agree are quite silly!), do we really need to turn around now (in an age when there has never been more flexibility of roles associated with "he" and "she" even if we still have a long way to go) and throw up our hands saying "Anyone who feels they still don't fit into what's left of the baggage attached to the pronouns 'he' and 'she' should just disown and them label themself under a different identity"? Is that not, in some sense, a step backwards in divorcing gender from baggage and enforced roles and expectations?

(Note, since I'm pretty worried about reading comprehension at this point: the above paragraph is not me arguing that nonbinary genders don't exist or that nonbinary pronouns shouldn't be used. I don't claim that for a combination of reasons, particularly that there are other reasons some people have for identifying as nonbinary apart from the "roles/expectations/stereotypes" thing.)

Here is today's gender-identity awkwardness I saw for the first time in a job application:

Of course, this plays directly into the hands of those on the conservative side of gender identity issues, enhancing the impression that the movement is letting itself be run by a bunch of kids playing silly imaginary identity games for their own amusement (I used to see xie/xir a lot before it was, to my relief, apparently supplanted by they/them, but to see such a bending-over-backwards effort to cater to two variations of xie/xir as separate options, that I'm not sure I've even seen before, in contrast to they/them is really something else), and playing into the (mostly-)myth that trans activists believe there are 50 or so genders.

They could just ask, "What is your gender identity?" with choices being "female", "male", "neither (nonbinary)", and "prefer not to answer", and that would serve their purposes of not misgendering applicants just fine, but that wouldn't be bending-over-backwards-to-signal-virtue-and-turn-off-conservatives enough, I guess.

(Also, I feel like I've said this before, but I'm starting to roll my eyes at phrases like "address someone by their correct pronoun" since nobody addresses someone with a third-person pronoun: they refer to someone with a third-person pronoun when talking to a different person, which in my experience isn't even that likely to happen during the early job interview stage. Maybe this sounds like a pedantic point to make, but I keep seeing this phrase and think it actually is creating fuzzy thinking around the social implications of learning everyone's preferred pronouns.)

[the-kittens-of-vol-tron]

Lance being an amazing diplomatic mayhaps??

Y'know I really like this concept :D

-----

"Paladins listen up! Today we are going down to the Xather galaxy to attend their planets annual party. While we are allowed to have fun, please remember that this is a diplomatic mission above all else. We need to get these planets on our side." Allura's voice boomed over the castle deck.

"Roger roger princess." Lance flashed her a toothy smile.

Allura gave him a tight smile and she turned to talk to Coran. Shiro asked questions on how they should present themselves, if they should wear their armor or dress casual, etc.

Coran began to give them all tips and tricks on diplomacy, looking at Keith when he talked about keeping your cool.

Lance tuned the chatter out, he may have never been in an official diplomatic meeting; but he had something up his sleeve. He was the youngest.

Pidge was also the youngest but the youngest of two. Lance was the youngest of five. He had mastered the art of painting his ideas in the best lighting, making him seem like the best person to team up with, getting people to open up to him.

Convincing people to trust him came easy to him, and he had won nearly every battle of which movie his family should watch every Friday night. He may not be the most professional diplomat out there, but he knew he could get anyone on board.

---

Lance took a sip of his drink, letting the harsh taste burn his tongue. The officials were more skeptical than they usual dealt with. The war hadn't even come near their galaxy yet, so they didn't see the need to send resources to help Voltron.

He could see Allura's eye twitch with annoyance when she had to repeat herself again on why Voltron was important for the war.

Lance glanced around the table, the other team members share her look of annoyance, clearly ready to dip from the meeting as soon as they could.

Lance was also feeling a bit fidgety, he was ready to go do something, not keep sitting in these chairs. "If I may princess I would like to say something."

She glanced at him, an unreadable emotion behind her face. Lance didn't give her time to deny him; usually Shiro, her and Coran usually took control of these meeting.

"Look, your officialness Voltron is needed for many reasons and we don't want you to be kicking yourself later because you missed your shot." All I have to do it find their weakness, what they want.

The officials murmured amongst themselves, one of them taking the lead. "Blue Paladin, as we already said we don't want to waste any resources."

Lance nodded, "I understand that but look at your solar system! Look at this festival, you all clearly know how to have a party. You," he pointed towards a member who was dressed in various pastel colors, "mentioned that your planet is known for it's scenery and relaxation right?"

The alien blushed a bit and gave sheepish nod.

Lance flashed them his signature smile, moving on to who was sitting next to them. "Your planet is known for your specialty indigent's and dishes you make."

He slowly made his way down the line, not missing how each of them relaxed under each word he said.

"What are you getting at Blue Paladin?"

Lance leaned back in chair some, he could feel his team looking at him with confusion and awe.

"Well, joining up with Voltron only adds to your traction. Our supporters are going to hear about the beauty of this galaxy, of your planets. They will come to visit you all and spend plenty of money."

He fought back a smile as all of them perked up at that. Bingo. "it will be constant visitors. Plus, when we" he gestured to his team, "make other alliances that's even more people to tell about this place. Now, supporting Voltron does require some resources I won't sugar coat that. But what you'll lose helping us, you will gain more of with your exposure to us."

They mumbled to each other, "what would we have to do as Voltrons alliance?"

Lance took another sip of drink, "support us when the Galra attack, when we plan bigger battles either offer us soldiers or supplies. Assist us in evacuating nearby planets and of course, we will protect you when or if the Galra eventually make it to this side of the Galaxy."

Some more chatter and Lance finally took a moment to look at his team. Allura and Coran looked like thought they were about to cry of happiness, Shiro had a proud expression on his face, Hunk and Pidge wore wide grins and Keith looked a bit impressed.

The aliens faced Lance again, "how do we sign up to help?"

Lance grinned, "it's easy."

---

"How the hell did you do that?" Keith sped walked behind him, the others close behind him.

Lance turned around, they had just gotten back on the castle and he was exhausted. "Do what?"

"That...you totally got us on our side!" Pidge exclaimed.

"Yeah! They were not budging with us." Hunk said.

"Oh that? It was easy, just needed to find what was in it for them."

"How did you find that out?" Shiro asked.

"Did no one else see them perk up to the idea of more money?" They all looked at each other, "okay maybe it wasn't as prominent as it was to me."

"Lance, would you be interested in more diplomatic missions in the future?" Allura asked.

"Of course princess."

-----

I love love love this!!!!

I hope you did too <3

Thank you <333

[teddy-yandere]

Oh my...I love Yandere, I'm addicted lol... Can I make an ask dear?

Akaza X female reader...

The scenario is... He get curious about her and find himself being a stalker. The rest is with you, do whatever you want, and if you want, thank you !!!

Love you already just because you are a Yandere writer 🖤🖤🖤

( Credits for the image to the artist)

- Curious -

⚠️WARNING⚠️ will contain dark themes

A/N = Feel free to request any characters you want. I write for many different fandoms , all you have to do is scroll to the bottom of this post and pick what fandom and character you want me to write for and send me a request. My inbox is always open so feel free to chat with me!! <3

* .:｡✧*ﾟ ﾟ･ ✧.｡. * * .:｡✧*ﾟ ﾟ･ ✧.｡. * . *.:｡✧ *ﾟ ﾟ･ ✧.｡. *.

• Never in his life as a demon did Akaza ever picture himself truly falling in love with someone. Much less falling in love with a “weak human” , who he was far more superior to. He doesn’t know why he felt so drawn to you from the moment he first encountered you. You were a demon slayer.

• Typically Akaza would ignore the demon slayers , unless they were strong and posses as a threat to him or Muzan. If the demon slayer was weak then he will just scare them away or something. He remembers hearing the lower ranks mention you once. Normally he would just find the lower ranks conversions boring , but he could not help but feel interested when one of them said how graceful you were. He decided to butt into the conversation and asked what you looked like. He didn’t really know why he wanted to ask but he felt incredibly curious about you . One of the lower ranks started to describe the outfit you wore. Another one said that you were very Handsome / Pretty. That got Akaza hooked.

• He decided that one day he was going to check you out. In his head he tried to tell himself that he was just making sure that your were not strong and that you were not a threat that needed to be eliminated at once. Deep down he knew that he just wanted to see you. When he first ran into you he made sure to quickly cover himself so that you will not be able to see him. He watched carefully as you gracefully and companionately slayed a demon. He found himself shocked by how kinds you seemed to be to the demon. You made sure to comfort the poor demon in their final moments of life. You stayed next to the demon even when they cursed at you. That’s when the realization hit him , you had a pure , kind heart. He also realized something else , he wanted you to love him with that kind heart of yours.

• In his eyes are just a weak human. You could never kill a demon like him. He likes to stalk you because it makes him feel like he is protecting you in a way ( like most yanderes ). You will soon find out that any obstacles you had in your life will slowly start to disappear. As well as people in your life . That creepy man who whistles at you is now hanging dead from a tree. Akaza can be very violent when killing people who he thinks have wronged you. Speaking of that , he will never kill any of your close family or friends unless they physically hurt you. He can’t stand to hear you cry.

• One time , while he was watching you , a demon caught you off guard and got on top of you trying to kill you. Akaza leaps into action and practically dragged that demon off of you while killing it. Let’s just say that the demon had a very painful and horrible end. You on the other hand were terrified. When he approached you to see if you were hurt, he could hear you beg for him not to kill you.

• All he did in response was cup your face in his hands and whisper in your ear

• “ Dont cry y/n , I will keep you safe from now on “

* .:｡✧*ﾟ ﾟ･ ✧.｡. * * .:｡✧*ﾟ ﾟ･ ✧.｡. * . *.:｡✧ *ﾟ ﾟ･ ✧.｡. *.

Thanks for reading Darling !! <3

Feel free to request any character you want. I write for all genders. If you don’t tell me what gender you want then I will just make it gender nuetural. I write for many different fandoms such as:

• Demon Slayer

• Haikyuu

• Attack on Titan

• My Hero Academia

• Death Note

Have a nice Day / Night ~

[msookyspooky]

Set Up

Part 5

Word Count: 1,520

Billy scowled down at you. "You just couldn't go to the party, huh? You just had to make everything difficult."

Stu gave a mocking pout in your direction as he was still on the ground from holding you down. "Yeah, that's messed up. You hurt my feelings, YN... I was looking forward to you being there." His eyes weren't Stu. Not the Stu you knew. He was deranged and manic as he stared at you.

Billy sighed heavily, rubbing his chin with his knife as he stared you down. "We all could have avoided this if you just went tommorow night. Too late now. This isn't part of the plot. Not for our movie. "

"...What?..." Your eyes watered and a betrayed cry ripped from your throat. "How could you?...How could you both do this?!"

The panicked confusion made you scatter to the corner of the shed as Billy shut the door behind him.

You were trapped.

Stu stood up, gloved hands reaching for you. "Y\N. Just listen for a minute. You'll understand soon and you'll get it!"

Your body shook uncontrollably. Your voice cracked as you yelled. "Listen? Listen?! You killed our classmates, my boyfriend and you're trying to kill our friends!"

Billy stepped forward. "No, your friends. They are fucking shitty ones too."

You hugged the wall, staring at the two young men as if they were total strangers now.

"But...Why?"

Billy released a dark chuckle. "Why? I don't know Stu. Why?"

A grin stretched over Stu's face. "Why? Because they deserved it, YN. Because it was FUN! " He pointed to himself and Billy. " See...We control it. We start and finish the game." He explained, hands moving with every word.

"We direct this movie, YN. We control our reality as well as yours. What the audience sees, which characters die, who ends up being the hero or the villain. We control it. In a sense; we get to play God. Does that answer your question?" Billy grinned as he purred every word. The knife to his chin with excitement dancing in his eyes.

You stared, waiting for them to tell you this was a screwed up prank that just went too far. The silence stretched on as Stu giggled and glanced at Billy.

"Aw, poor thing. She seems a bit confused, man." Stu said it so casually with a smile.

Billy answered Stu, still smirking at you the entire time. "Well, then let's dumb it down for her." He leaned forward, whispering to you. "We are killing because we can. That's all you need to know."

"Stop...This isn't..." You trailed off.

They both looked at you with mocking surprise. "What? This isn't like us? I told you earlier. You have no idea who I am, YN. The Billy you knew wasn't real."

You shook your head, stuttering as you furiously blinked away tears. "I don't...I don't get it. Why? Why certain people why-"

"You will. Soon, you'll see things our way." Stu gave as he walked around to the side of you. You crawled backwards as far away from them as possible.

Billy wore a wicked smile on his face you never saw before. His usual and collected demeanor was gone. "That bitch Casey from homeroom was spreading a rumor that you were fucking everyone-"

Stu continued. "Even though we know that skank was the one spreading her legs for every football player in town and then some. Believe me, I tapped that. She is as easy as ABC's."

You shook your head and scrunched your brows as you listened.

"Okay, so...What? You dated her, she dumped you, and you got revenge?"

Stu lost his maniacal smirk and glared at you. Viens in his neck jutted out as his brow muscles knitted together. "I FUCKIN DUMPED HER!" He boomed.

You flinched away, a startled cry escaped your lips as you cowered away from him. The guy in front of you wasn't Stu anymore.

His face dropped as he stared at you, dropping down to squat to your level. You could see his jeans under the costume as he rested his gloved hands on his knees. "No, YN. Hearing her say that nasty stuff about you sealed the deal for me...For us."

Billy watched you intently. Like a predator waiting for you to run so he could attack. "This has been in the works for a year and her dumb decision just kick started it just a lil bit sooner than the intended date...Actually, your boyfriend James was the first one to start this show early."

You blinked in shock as Stu's eyes searched you for any form of approval while Billy looked like he was going to pounce on you any second. His face unreadable other than the hunger in his dark eyes.

You ran your hand's over your head. Looking away, feeling cornered by them both in the shed as you stood up with your back to the wall. You felt the wall with your hand behind you as discreetly as possible while they spoke.

Billy continued. "Your old boyfriend? That was a no brainer. He was a real dickhead, YN." Billy mumbled coldly.

Stu stood back up and as a sinister grin spread over his face once more. "Oohhh, Yn. When you came to school with bruises on your neck? Well, we made sure it was extra special for him."

"I never realized a person could still live after having their skin ripped off their face." Billy mused, his knife tapping his chin in thought. "It wasn't long though. He cried for you the entire time. Did you hear him when we called? He begged you to help him." His mouth split into a grin, an amused chuckle rumbled low in his chest.

Stu released a glee filled chuckle as well, the same one you recognized on the phone. "He even cried for you when his guts were laying on the ground."

"God..." You thought you might throw up, covering your mouth as tears rolled down your cheek. You gagged on your sob.

Stu gave you a genuine smile, the psychotic gleam leaving his eyes for a moment. "You know why we did it? All for you, sweetcheeks. We care about you, YN."

Billy sneered at him. "No, there is no we. I DID. Don't loop us both in that. James was just practice for the main event." He mumbled as if the meer idea of caring for you was like pulling teeth.

Your face shot up to look at them both. "What?"

Billy stared at you. He wore a poker face even if his eyes searched your own for any sort of sign of reaction he was looking for. What that was, you vould only guess.

"You heard me. I gave a shit about you...That was my mistake for allowing it to happen. Did you notice? Did you care? Nope! Just kept screwing around with a tool like James."

You shook your head violently. "No!... No fucking way. You're both nuts! You expect me to believe you both give a damn about anyone?! That's bullshit!"

Stu looked at you sadly. His eyes pleading with you. "YN, try to understand and listen."

"Or what? You'll kill me too?"

Billy licked his lips, bringing his knife up with a tight grip in his fist. "That's the plan."

Your fingers found a pair of sheers behind you. Billy walked towards you as Stu darted his eyes between you two.

"Billy-" You swallowed hard, body trembling as he came towards you. "You won't get away with this!"

"I got away with it last year. I got away with it 3 times this year. I'm sure I can manage a fifth kill." He smiled, tilting his head to the side.

Realization dawned on you.

"...Oh my God...It was you." Your breath caught in your throat as you tightened your grip on the shears behind your back." You killed Maureen Prescott."

He lowered his head, glaring at you through his lashes. The meer mention of her name made him look feral.

"The whore had it coming." He raised his knife, looking at it before flicking his gaze back to you.

"You may not deserve to die as much as she did but we all gotta die sometime. You're a good kid, YN. Just for your kindness these last few months; I'll let you pick. Throat slit? Stabbed in the chest? Or maybe we can get creative?"

You closed your eyes, too scared to move before you felt someone step in front of you.

Stu intercepted. "Hold on, man. Hold the fuck on! You're not even giving her a chance to process it. She likes me back, I can tell."

He looked at you hopefully as Billy released a bark of laughter. "Oh, you're right. Her sucking face with James over you was a clear indicator."

Stu looked rapid, huffing before the words came out through clenched teeth. "You're just jealous."

Billy glared up at him. His entire face contorting in anger. "Jealous? What am I jealous of? A goofy ass rich boy that flirts with a girl just for her to not to get the hint? Out of my way, Stu."

Stu gave a dark laugh. "You're so full of shit, man. You acted like a damn idiot and almost got us caught for YN multiple times! You like her, you just don't want anyone else to have her. You want to kill her after you found out I like her? Screw that shit to hell and back!" His face was deranged while Billy sneered at him.

Suddenly, things were piecing together for you. The realization was mind boggling. Every touch, every act of kindness, every lingering look.

Billy shoved him, " I don't give a shit whether you have a crush on her or not. Now isn't the time you nutcase. Fuck off!"

Stu breathed through his nostrils, debating something in his mind before speaking. "No...YOU decided to do this, not me! You never ask me!"

Billy's temper flared. "You stupid fuck- I didn't see you complaining about it too much earlier! Stick to the plan and stop being pussy whipped for someone that doesn't give a shit about you."

You didn't know how to feel about either one of them. You only knew you had to get Stu in your favor. You saw your opportunity. "Stu, he's wrong...I do care. So, don't do this!...Please!" You whimpered under your breath.

Billy snapped at you. "Shut the hell up!" He paid attention to Stu once more. "Stick to the plan, Stu."

Stu readied his knife in his own hand, glancing down at it before slowly glaring back up at Billy.

"...Who said I was?"

Billy's eyes flicked to Stu's knife. "...The fuck are you doing, Stu?"

Stu breathed heavily, adrenaline pumping through him. "We can change YN. We don't need to kill this time. It's a waste to kill someone like her. YN can get with the plan."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?! YN, doesn't have the guts for it!"

"See, YN? He doesn't care about you. Not like I do. He's already doubting you."

Billy gripped his knife firmly, "Ding Dong, doofus. I CARED. Past tense. Never enough to get us fucking caught. If you want to go down already; be my guest. But neither of you are taking me down this soon. Not when our work isn't finished!"

You saw a chance and took it. Slashing a pair of garden sheers at Billy's face, cutting his cheek as he released a painful roar and you rushed out of the shed past him.

Your feet pounded against the ground as you heard the rain pouring around you. Their frantic voices yelling after you. You ran to your house, grabbing your phone and dialing 911.

[vilifyanddefile]

Cw: blood, hints of previous abuse. Blood infatuation, innappropriate thoughts (non-sexual).

This is a continuation of @shywhumpauthor 's post about a bad caretaker, which you can find right here.

𝘞𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘋𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘛𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴, 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘦��𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴.

𝘉𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘉𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘉𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.

— 𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘦.

Henchman stood in the bleak room with a slight tilt to their overall set of features, head drifting to the side as they eyed themselves in a mirror that almost mimicked their own body. Cracked along its sides with the wooden frame coated in a thick layer of dust. Upon further examination, rust coloured fingerpints paint some parts of the mirror almost daintily, despite it clearly being old blood.

They were far more enamored with the old blood in comparison to the new droplets sinking into the wooden floor, some smudged in the direction of Whumpee's doorway as they had frantically tip toed their little form out of their room to go care for the injury Henchman had given them. They sank into the giddy feeling of dragging a blade down their forearm, moving to swipe their tongue across the shining silver coated in sticky crimson. "So sweet. I would prefer it straight from the source, though.." they muttered, tongue swiping across their canine teeth next.

Henchman thought back to the rust coloured finger prints, and they pondered on it momentarily- simply because there shouldnt have been any signs of blood within this room, nor the house in total really. Wasnt whumpee safe now? They were away from henchmans boss, away from angry hands and sharp weapons and glowing flames of hatred and yearning for violence, yet still, the scent of copper and the sight of faux rust lingered in what was supposed to be a safe space, but as henchman investigated further- perhaps it was truly just a cruel rendition of one, mocking whumpee in the back of their pretty little head, telling them that they'll never be truly safe. Surprisingly, the thought made Henchmans heart lurch downwards into their stomach- eyes flickering to their scarred wrists and finger tips idly. They knew the feeling all too well. They wish they hadnt.

They swivvled on their feet towards the doorway, expertly remaining completely silent as they stalked the hallway of caretakers home, as if a predator eager to catch its prey. They pause beside the door frame, looking downwards to ensure they couldnt cast any shadow that would give away their presence beneath the door. But, there was no light, the only light they could truly spot was within this hallway they walked in, alight with the moonlight and her loneliness, the stars much too far away to bring her company. Henchman examines the rest of the hallway, spying the light near the end, beckoning them closer. They move onwards, avoiding certain floorboards that they knew were too loud. They were here before, many times, can you blame them? They needed to keep their eye on whumpee per request of whumper, and what better way to do that then to stalk them from the shadows of their own safety? Henchman was getting more information than they originally bargained for, and now they were craving more- it left a bittersweet taste on their tongue and they ached for more, giving into their sinister curiosities. As they say, curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back, and henchman felt as though they were about to be very satisfied.

Henchman stands outside the door of the bathroom, chuckling airily to themselves. It interrupts the silence around them. "Oh whumpee, my dear.." they hum in a sing songy voice, their tone melodic and sinisterly sweet. Then, they swing open the door.

Whumpee looks like a dear in headlights, horror basking over their features as their arm is on full display, blood dripping down onto the floor and the sink, a handprint imprinted on the white marble of the counter. Henchman is admittedly taken aback. Cautiously, they step forward. Whumpee takes a step back in response, a sob catching in their throat as they bring their bloodied hand up to cover their mouth, bloody thread messily clinging to their arm alongside a sewing needle, much too large for their skin.

"Shh, sh- my dear, my little lovely, don't fret," henchman mumbles, bringing their hands up to cup whumpees face as tears slide down their cheeks. Henchman fights off the urge to bring their fingers to their lips, despite being curious as to how Whumpees tears taste. Henchman shakes off the thought, carefully bringing a hand to their bloody one and interlacing their fingers, lowering whumpees arm all together. "Why didn't you go to caretaker? I'd assume they'd be able to care for this..more easily. Perhaps take you to the ER. No offense but you do not seem like the type to have a car, let alone a license. I don't believe you can take yourself." A sob leaves Whumpee's lips, mouth opening and closing as they babble away, trying to work out a coherent sentence. They give up quite fast, lowering their head against Henchmans chest with a weak cry. "They-thheyy hate me- m'sorrymsorry-"

Oh.

Oh *my*.

Henchman is taken aback heavily this time, bringing their spare hand up to cradle the back of Whumpees head. Their fingers scratch gently at the poor things scalp, playing with their hair as they attempt to calm them down slowly. They can't have caretaker wake up now, can they? Henchman hums into the frail things ear, moving just enough to plant an affectionate kiss to their forehead. They feel whumpee grow slack against them, sobs quieting down into shaky whimpers and sniffles. Henchman moves whumpee to the toilet, guiding them into sitting down on the seat. Their hands wander their own body for a moment, fishing out a pill bottle from their pocket. Henchman had migraines on the regular, so carrying pain medication and even muscle relaxers to help them sleep was a common that even Whumper knew about it. Head injuries, am I right? Henchman pops a pill onto their thumb, free hand carefully taking Whumpee's jaw into their possesion. "Open up, love. 'S pain meds, it'll help you relax my dear." It was in fact a muscle relaxer, actually, but..same difference. Whumpee obediently takes the pill into their mouth, swallowing it down without the aid of a drink. Henchman releases their jaw and plants their hand into their hair instead, bringing themselves awfully close. Whumpee's head falls against their chest. "'M sorry.." "do not apologize. Relax for me, my dear. Just relax."

Henchman simply stands there, scratching behind Whumpee's ear and along their scalp while humming a small tune, luring them into a calming rest as their little hands cling onto their shirt, swallowing up little fistfuls of fabric into their palms. Henchmans shirt and jacket were stained with blood by now, but they didn't mind. They liked blood after all, especially this little things..such a pretty thing, all for them to enjoy. No more for caretaker, no no. The moment Whumpee was asleep, Henchman leaned downwards and folded their arms underneath Whumpee's little body, smiling devilishly. Caretaker would no longer be given the right to Whumpee. Henchman needed a new little pet, and considering Whumpee needed someone better than that damned rat sleeping in a bed much to luxurious for them, Henchman would be taking this little bloody prize- their perfect, golden little pet. So sweet and damaged, all for them to fix.

They always liked playing doctor.

Tagging : @shywhumpauthor

[impossible3girl]

Watched Law and Order SVU for the first time in a while and remembered a thing I learned because of this show.

The line between being a victim and becoming a perp/abuser yourself can be soooooo small. And this can happen to the best of people.

Like take Olivia Benson for example. She is one of the best characters on this show. I mean this is literally her show. Liv is the only one who has been there since day one, over 20 years and seasons ago. Starting out as a junior Detective and now being Captain of SVU for a few years already. She (as well as her actress Mariska Hargitay) is a role model to many women and victims of especially sexual abuse. Some people even only got the courage to talk about their experiences because of seeing her on TV. Olivia is one of the most human characters I know which means despite being such an amazing person she also has her flaws. In my opinion this makes her even more amazing as a character because perfect characters are boring (and don't exist in the real world which makes it harder to relate to them or look up to them because it can never be).

This leads me to my realisation from the beginning.

[The line between being a victim and becoming a perp/abuser yourself can be soooooo small. And this can happen to the best of people.]

During her time at SVU Liv not only had to help victims of sexual abuse but sometimes became the victim herself. On some occasions it was in a way planed because she went undercover but on othes it had nothing to do with her job or at least not in that way. One example I want to talk about now is the story with Lewis. Most SVU probably remember him because he was one of the creepiest characters on the show. This guy was literally fixated on Liv and kidnapped her twice but I only want to look at the first time here. (I have to say it has been a while since I watched this episode but I think I still remember all the, for this post important parts.)

Lewis kidnapped Olivia in her home, raped several women infront of her and physically abused Liv as well as telling her he would rape her in the end. Thankfully she managed to free herself and knock Lewis out. She cuffed him with the cuffs he used for her (I think it might have been hers) to the bed she was cuffed to just minutes before. When he gained consciousness again he started to talk to her, trying to break her, make her weak and a victim again even though she was the one who had the upper hand. And in a way he succeeded. She started to hit him with a metall rod a few times and broke several of his bones.

Olivia the victim turned into the abuser.

Of course you can say it was his own fault because he provoked her by fueling her anger and telling her to hit him. But as a cop she knew that this was illegal. He was tied, he couldn't attac her or even defend himself therefore it was not self-defence (unlike when she freed herself and knock him out with one hit beforehand). It was abuse. (Even if she wasn't a cop she should have known.)

One of the best people I know became an abuser in a moment of weakness just after being a victim of abuse herself. It's not right what she did and I was even shocked when I saw this episode for the first time. But did it made me stop loving her? NO!!! Because even though it wasn't right it was human. I don't like what she did but I totally understand it, she, a cop (who in her eyes should be able to defend herself) got not only kidnapped but in her own home and later went through a trauma most of us can't even begin to understand. A trauma no one in their right mind would which anyone else not even their biggest enemy.

Yes, some people go through trauma and become good people, but these are just a few and most of them need a lot of time and don't manage this on their own. They need help from family, friends, social workers, ... But in that moment Liv did not have these things. Which is why i totally understand this outburst. She wanted to feel strong again. She wanted to proof that he did not break her. She wanted to deal with her trauma. But she did it the wrong way. Or at least the wrong way based on morals and the view of society. Actually there is no right or wrong there is only your way because we are all different and deal different with things like trauma. She had to let her anger out because it was her way. The only mistake was by doing it on a real person and not a punching back with his face glued on. Later she managed to heal with the help of the people she loves and who care about her as well as her therapist. Which is by society standards a better way of dealing with your trauma and proving your strength.

The fact that she chose the "wrong" way first did not make me love her less (despite me being shocked at the beginning) because it only showed how complex she as a character and also other real live victims of abuse are.

So now that I made this clear we can come to the actual point.

I LOVE SEVERUS SNAPE.

Him making some really bad mistakes can't change this. I don't love him for these mistakes but despite them just like with Liv. And my knowledge from SVU also shows me some reasons for why Snape did some of these things.

Just clarifying for some people: I am NOT trying to excuse his behaviour but I am trying to give at least part of an explanation. Maybe helping some people understand him and me loving him.

Let's start at the beginning. First he got emotionally (and maybe even physically) abused by his father who hated everything magic therefore his son a wizard too. In addition to that they lived in pretty bad conditions like not having a lot of money. Then Snape went to Hogwarts where he thought everything would be different, everything would be better. But it wasn't. It already started on the train as some rich and good looking guys started to talk bad about him. Makin fun of his love for Slytherin and calling him a name based on him being not as good looking as them. I'm not going to much into detail about the Marauders vs Snape situation but I want to make one thing quiet clear.

IT WAS NOT A RIVALRY IT WAS MOBBING.

A group of at least 2 and sometimes even more students against one. There is a huge power imbalance. Oh and stop saying they did this because he was a death eater. He only joined them after Hogwarts and even then mobbing is not justified. Not if you want to call yourself a good guy. James actually describes their motivation pretty clearly and I quote: "it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean." Like that's something bully and abusers say.

Snape was abuse at the one place where he thought everything would be better. The one place where he thought he might find a home. Not only that he also did not get help. Ok yes Lily tried a bit but we also know that she tried to defend the Marauders. and with what? The faxt that they did not use dark magic. Good but they still abused Severus. Like you cane use intentionally good spells to do bad things and that makes you a better person? It's not really helpful and she was the only person. Not even a teacher tried to help. Which they should. They literally have a duty of care for their students. No, Dumbledore even in some way defended the marauders by telling Snape to not tell anyone about Remus' secret. Them trying to kill Snape is fine but Snape telling everyone that there is a werewolf on the school grounds is bad. I'm not a Dumbledore anti but in this situation he failed completely.

Based on all this it is actually no wonder that Snape joined the death eaters. He just wanted to belong. Maybe not belonging to a good cause but the people who called themselves good never even tried to accept him. So how good are they truly? The death eaters at least gave him a chance to find his place in the world. I don't have to like it but I totally get it. It's like Loki doing all these bad things like blowing up Jotunheim just for Odin to finally show him some love. The love he thinks he deserves. The love that everyone deserves.

Yes of course his prejudice against muggles and muggle born also played a part in him joining the death eaters but we don't know how far it actually went. Yes, he called Lily a mudblood but only in a situation of enormous stress and he immediately tried to apologize (A in book 7 he also tells the picture of "i forgot his name" to not call Hermione a mudblood. No one was there, he did not have to prove anything to anyone. "I forgot his name" would probably not tell anyone. I mean who and why? But Snape did it anyways because he leaned from his mistake). We can assume he might dislike or even hate muggle because of what his father did but we don't know for sure and in the end Snape died to defeat Voldemort which also lead to saving muggles and muggleborn. Therefore I don't think it was his main reason.

His treatment of the students is also mainly a reaktion to his abuse ( and maybe the fact that he never really wanted to become a teacher in the first place). It's not right but based on what we know about Hogwarts actually not as bad as some people make it seem. Like McGonagall told the Gryffindors to not tell Neville the password to the common room while a crazy murderer was running around. Oh and she send 4 first years into the forbidden forest at night because they were running around the corridors at night. Like do you see how paradox this is?

But in the end we have to admit that he did change. Maybe not as much as some of us want but did leave the death eaters and even though he treated some of the students shitty he still protected them (especially Harry) and gave his life for them. Just like Olivia he first chose the wrong way of dealing with his trauma but chose or at least tried to choose the right way in the end. And unlike Olivia he never got the help he needed.

To conclude I think one of Snape's main reason for becoming the person he was, was the abuse he suffered and the lack of help he got. Yes, it is possible to become a good guy despite this abuse like Harry did but Snape's reaction is as much human as Harry's was. And I am allowed to love him despite what he did. He is such a complex and well written character of course I like him.

And I'm not trying to hate on anyone. Of course I don't like what the Marauders did but why would I hate on people for liking them when I want to like Snape despite the thinks he did? As long as they don't excuse or even glorify their actions who am I to judge? There are even people who like both Snape and the marauders so why can't the people who only love one of the sides at least treat the other one with respect and stop hating people for liking a fictional character? Just like the word says they are fictional don't you have enough problems in the real world? Because if not I would appreciate you taking some of mine.

I stayed up till after 3 am to finish this and I will probably think this is totally shit if I read it again tomorrow but I'm gonna post this anyway now.