#obsessed and creeped on a girl while people were dying

[strongheartneteyam]

Realize where you belong.

Pairing: neteyam sully x female!human!reader/female!dreamwalker!reader

Neteyam is aged up.

Chapter 2

CW: angst, reader hates her life, neteyam is like her "secret admirer" but he eventually becomes obsessed, so, it gives off some creepy vibes, possessive neteyam, forbidden love, neteyam is REALLY protective over her, neteyam isn't really fond of humans (hates them) and only makes an exception for reader, TRIGGER WARNING for a few depression symptoms (such as reader holding back tears and looking miserable really often), stalking, obsessive behavior & possessiveness

Synopsis: Reader is unhappy with her human life. She works for the lab as a cook. She's a Dreamwalker and she spends every free day she gets walking through Pandora's forests. In one of those days, Neteyam sees her but she doesn't notice him. He falls in love, seeing how happy she is amidst nature. Neteyam finds out she's actually a human in an Avatar, so, he finds a way to go where her real body is. He hates to admit it but, seeing her in her human body, he realizes he still loves her. After watching her, he notices how she's always happier when she's in her Avatar, so, he develops a deeper connection to her. However, he becomes obsessive. Reader has only heard about him, the famous son of Jake Sully and future Olo'eyktan, praised for his great achievements as a young Omatikaya. After getting reader's attention, Neteyam asks her to choose to live forever in her Avatar, becoming his mate and making tsaheylu with him, gaining a new home as a fresh member of his tribe. Reader is scared and torn, since, even though she's intensely attracted to him and only truly enjoys life when she's Dreamwalking, she doesn't really know him and she's afraid of dying when trying to go past Eywa's eye. But Neteyam just won't give up on her that easily.

♡ This is Reader's Avatar

☆ This is the official playlist for this story, the songs I listen to while working on it.

•

Finally, this fanfic is out!! lots of people seemed to love the tiny sneak peek I posted so... I hope you guys will love the fanfic itself too hehe I'm so relieved I could finally post it ooof My environment is the worst EVER rn & i haven't had any motivation or focus to write lately BUT i seem to be getting out of that damned writer's block I was in (ITS THE WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD UGH HATE IT TO DEATH)

Not proofread. My life is a hurricane, so, we don't work with proofread stories here. Hope you find it in your hearts to forgive me, my angels :')

na'vi words:

yawne - beloved

tsaheylu - the neurological bond the na'vi make with their mate, through their tendrils, at the end of their long braid.

Chapter 1

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

I love your touch, cold as ice

And I love every single tear you cry

I just love the way you're losing your life

Oh, my baby, how beautiful you are

Oh, my darling, completely torn apart

Gone With The Sin (HIM)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Neteyam would look at you every moment he could. He didn't have that much free time since he was the Olo'eyktan's son and had so many responsibilities weighting on his shoulders. But he would always make any sacrifice he needed to make to find time to see you. Even if it meant using the few hours he had to himself to contemplate you. His sad, gloomy-eyed, beautiful girl. You were not actually his yet, but, he was determined to make that change.

Neteyam saw you holding back tears way too damn often, so, he was always deeply worried about you, and, that was one of the reasons why he was always creeping around, high up in branches of trees located in Hell's Gate, watching over you, almost every day, ready to help you, defend you from any danger, to say "screw it" to how out of the blue it would be if he - a stranger, a male na'vi stranger - just came up to you and said "hey, I've been watching you for a while, and… I'm so, so in love with you. Please, leave this damn idiotic human life you live and let Eywa help you be transferred to your Avatar body for good, just like she helped my father. You're so insanely pretty like this - and I have never felt attracted to any female of your demon kind before, so, believe me when I talk about your beauty - but you look even prettier when you're in your Avatar form. Let me make you my mate, let me make you the future Olo'eyktan's mate. I can give you a far better life than the one you have now"

He knew he was just a weird alien boy (as the humans would probably say), stalking you, always up in the highest tree branches he could find and reach, watching a girl while she cooks - as it was your job - like a hunter watching their prey. But he meant no harm. On the contrary, he meant to take care of you, to save you from it all. Because he wasn't blind. Neteyam saw how unhappy you looked while peeling potatoes (he knew what they were because his dad who was once human told him and his siblings about how delicious that vegetable from Earth tasted, especially when it was made as French fries) to cook on the high-tech stove the humans used to prepare their meals in and prepare mashed potatoes to those damn lab guys who invaded his Planet and did nothing but harm.

Neteyam thought it to be unnecessary. His future mate could easily prepare the same potatoes in a bonfire he would light up for you in the Omatikaya forest. He knew they would taste even better roasted in the natural fire than just plainly cooked in that energy fueled cooking device the humans used. He could give you a life so incredibly better than the one you had right now, it pained him to see his yawne working so hard to feed every damn scientist in that cold, air-conditioned lab while not being as appreciated and thanked by them as you deserved to be. You could be preparing food to feed his children instead, the sons and daughters he would give you, if only you accepted becoming his forever mate.

He hated the humans. They didn't know how to lead a proper life. But you were different.

Neteyam knew how breathtaking you looked in a na'vi like body because the first time he saw you, you were in your Avatar body - as you were a Dreamwalker - and that's when he fell in love with you. But he learned to love your human body too. He could never hate you, even in your human form. You were the only human he did not despise.

The day Neteyam first saw you, he was out in the forest to hunt and gather food, collecting bladder polyps, lionberry seeds and trying to kill a hexapede, so, he could bring all of it home and him and his family could eat a nutritious dinner.

That's when he heard a squeaky, funny laugh. It was a female voice, he recognized. Neteyam followed that sound just like he was a sailor and the girl whose laugh he heard was a mermaid, bewitching his senses and drawing him closer.

When he saw you, it was like his heart was going to explode in a thousand pieces, so fast it was beating inside his rigid ribcage, so strongly the blood was being pumped through his arteries. He knew he had to make you his mate, to have you forever.

Neteyam had always been a practical and rational young man, he had to be. He was the eldest son and had to look after his 3 younger siblings and not show a single sign of weakness when his father would scold him in a harsh tone, whenever any of his siblings - specially his younger brother, Lo'ak -, got into trouble and somehow, Neteyam ended up having to take responsibility over their actions. "But that girl… that beautiful, ethereal girl… she makes me believe in things I've never even considered before. I know it sounds stupid to say that about a girl I just met, only some minutes ago but I don't care", he thought. Only he and Eywa herself knew the raw, powerful feeling he was experiencing at that moment. He just wanted to let go for a while. To not force himself to be all brains, zero heart for once, just once. And you were gifting him the opportunity to do just that. Your beauty was so enchanting, it could leave any creature in awe.

His father had once told him about Christianity, one of the most popular religions back on the glory days of the Planet Earth, and, of course he didn't follow those beliefs, his spirituality was completely based on Eywa, the Great Mother, the spirit and moving energy of Pandora, but, if the beings called "angels" his father talked about were real, Neteyam was utterly sure that they could only look like you.

You were perfect. Every curve of your body, every bioluminescent freckle, every pattern of your stripes, your long dark braided hair falling like water on your flawless back, as you kept smiling and touching every single flower you could see, playing in a foolish way, just like a child. He felt a primal urge coming from his guts to make tsaheylu with you right there, right at that moment.

So many thoughts roamed through Neteyam's mind: "I need her… right here, right now. She's… ugh… I've never felt anything like this before… What's going on with your stupid mind, Neteyam?! You can't just choose any girl to be your mate, you'll be the next Olo'eyktan, remember?! The best choice would be a girl who has a calling to be Tsahìk. Maybe your parents will try to arrange a marriage, to find the perfect match for you. Damn! Who am I trying to fool? She is the only perfect match for me…"

Neteyam started to watch you go about the forest every chance he got.

When he found out you were actually a Dreamwalker, a human in a body created in a laboratory, a hybrid of demon and na'vi, a freak... It was like his world was falling apart, piece by tiny piece crashing on the floor. How did he not notice your fifth finger before?! Was he that much under your spell, that blinded by how beautiful and charming you were?, he asked himself.

So, he told himself he was going to find a way to at least see what your true form looked like. He hissed at the thoughts and feelings you had caused him the whole way to Hell's Gate, where the laboratory was and where he knew all the humans that stayed in Pandora and had an Avatar stayed.

When Neteyam saw you in your human body, he got hit by something as strong as lightning. The moment he sniffed your sweet scent (the smell you had in your Avatar had notes of your original human scent, as your DNA was used to build that body), the moment he recognized that melodious voice… The expression in those eyes, that smile, that laughter… it was you. His yawne.

He didn't understand how that was possible, what he was feeling. Nevertheless, he realized he still loved you. His heart still beat fast for you. It didn't matter which physical form you took. Na'vi or human. You were you. And he loved you. Madly.

His people had a great contempt towards the ones who Dreamwalked. They were "demons in false bodies", like his grandma and his mother always said. And Neteyam himself felt the same. Worse, he had felt disgusted by the love and desire you made him feel, back when he watched you wandering around the Omatikaya lands, when you would jump like a little kid, so happy playing with the bioluminescent, neon plants of the forest.

But, still, that feeling lingered inside him. The attachment, the deep affection, the devotion… He could not comprehend it.

All Neteyam could grasp was that he hated all humans, but you were the only exception.

Even though you were originally human, you had a na'vi heart. He just knew that. As crazy and impossible as it sounded, he figured out it was true. And that blew his mind. That sorrowful girl he was seeing cooking in a small technological kitchen was not the same one he had seen at the forest. But it was, at the same time. It apparently made no sense, but it actually did. You were not where you belonged. You did not belong imprisoned among those four walls that the other humans kept you in. That you were keeping yourself in. You belonged free amidst the Pandoran trees. You did not belong in those big human clothes. You belonged in a comfortable loincloth and a big leaf necklace covering your beautiful breasts, letting the wind hit your skin.

You seemed out of place in that environment you were currently in. And that made Neteyam feel something so overpowering. He knew it was useless to try and fight it. He was not even sure if he even wanted to fight it anymore. That feeling was good. It felt just like what he felt when he thought you were a na'vi girl. He even felt attracted to you, even though he still thought you looked much prettier in your Avatar body.

He was fully aware you were one of the demons. But you were not like the rest of them. You were special. He could tell that. He could tell you'd be a hundred per cent happier if he could convince you to become na'vi. And that's exactly what he was planning to do. He still did not know how, but he would find a way.

༊⁀➷

Taglist:

@crazy4books1

@samistars

@lik0

@miri-belle

@nerdybouquetofkittens-blog

@xxunnie

@your-girl-mj

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@darktyrantwinner

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@explosiongamora

@yeosxxx

[satoruxx]

sorry to go feral in your inbox but ghostface!miguel who is crazy about you (in a good way I promise) and does everything in his power to protect you and keep those horrible college guys from your classes away from you but you only know him as the mysterious gravelly voice who calls you every night that you’ve grown fond of as your personal lullaby-

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader | 1.5k words summary: ghostface!miguel, stalking, possessive miguel, violence, death, killing, obsessive behavior, suggestive, killer miguel ofc, reader is WAY too trusting, miggy just loves you so much !! rheya’s note: NONNIE BABES YOU GENIUS !! he absolutely would oh my fucking god. i am so normal about this (going feral) i was literally squealing while writing this it was rough. why is this concept hot? do i need therapy? probably. anyways he's a creep in this but in a good way? (the way this ask literally got me inspired to draw ghostface!miguel UGH) anyways ENJOY !!

miguel isn't a bad guy. he's not. he's one of the good guys actually, a hero. he's always been a hero.

it's not his fault that there are some assholes in the world that are fucked up, preying on innocent people who just want to live their lives.

sweet, innocent people like you.

how a girl as sweet and precious as you managed to get yourself surrounded by such horrible people is beyond him. and you're so nice too, always assuming that nobody has it out for you or that everyone has some good in them. with that mindset, you were just asking to be put in danger.

so, being the hero that he is, it's his obligation to look out for you, right?

it starts off quietly. he doesn't make an effort to connect with you, choosing to watch you from the shadows as he silently tracks your day. miguel is nothing if not observant, mentally noting every single person you interact with or looks your way. and if they get a little too close, a little too comfortable? well, then he'd just have to take care of that for you, wouldn't he?

he hates that one flirty coworker of yours, always leaning a little too close to you and chatting like he's your fucking boyfriend. miguel can see the little crease of discomfort in your brows whenever that coworker is nearby, and he decides that he hates that expression on you. but you feel fine afterwards, because when your coworker goes missing the next day, you send a quick thank you to the heavens, trying to push down your guilt.

he finds out that you try to make some extra money by tutoring a guy at your school. and when miguel watches the two of you through the windows of the library he feels hatred like no other run through his veins because he doesn't like how this guy looks at you. that asshole probably didn't even need tutoring to begin with, using it as a pathetic excuse to get close to you. what a fucking joke. but you don't have to stress about tutoring anymore because the next day you get a text saying the kid has transferred schools. you never hear from him again.

oh but the worst ones are the ones who ask you out on dates. they don't even know how lucky they are, getting to see you all dolled up and pretty for them, only to absolutely destroy your hopes for a good time. it makes miguel so angry he sees red. every fucking time one of those losers makes a comment that has your shoulders slumping with disappointment, a miserable frown on your pretty lips by the end of the night, he feels sick to his stomach. but he hopes that when you see your date's body on the news the next morning, you won't be so disappointed anymore.

only after watching over you for a while does miguel decide to finally talk to you, finding the perfect hiding spot to watch you through your window as you pick up your ringing phone. he has to stop himself from groaning because your voice sounds so much sweeter when it's in his ear, smooth and precious as you ask who it is. and he can't resist playing with you, dying to hear more as he sighs behind his mask.

"tell me your name and maybe i'll tell you mine." miguel answers, gravelly voice practically purring through the speaker. he can see the confusion on your face as you pace your kitchen, reaching for a bag of chips before walking back to your couch and settling in to watch a movie. he hears the screams from the tv and bites his lip. "what's that noise?"

"a movie." you reply, the expression on your face getting less guarded as you listen to his voice.

"a scary movie?" he asks, leaning against the edge of the roof so that he's got the perfect view of you. you take a chip and pop it in your mouth, chewing quietly, and he follows the movement of your lips with eager eyes.

"mhm," you nod, and miguel thinks it's so fucking cute the way you move your head even though you think he can't see you.

"you like scary movies?" he asks with a hum, and you voice out a yes. his eyes remain hooded and attentive as he effortlessly continues the conversation. "you got a favorite, sweetheart?"

he catches the way you melt under his sweet words, and miguel decides then and there that he's never letting you go. he listens to your answers with a grin, tucking his knife away and watching you animatedly talk to him for the remainder of the night.

and the rest is history.

you tell him about a guy who's bothering you? he'll bury him. someone made you cry? he'll break their legs. your date stood you up? he'll stab them so many times he loses count. and then after all of that, he'll call you like he always does, rumbling honeylike words into his phone as he casually watches you from behind his mask.

"and how was your day today, sweetheart?" he'll drawl out, late at night as he perches on the neighboring roof to your apartment. with the way he's angled he can perfectly see the innocent little smile on your face as you settle in bed, talking on the phone like you're not scared of him at all.

and you shouldn't be, because he'd never hurt you, of course.

some nights you'll giddily tell him about the most exciting parts of your day, smiling and giggling until you fall asleep without a care in the world. but on the nights when you complain or whine about somebody that's made you upset, wronged you, or god forbid, showed interest in you? well, those are the nights miguel has to grit his teeth and clench his fists, trying to control the flare of pure rage that courses through him. he lulls you to sleep with sweet words, trying to keep his cool but still vibrating with anger because who the fuck do they think they are, getting near you like that?

"don't worry, pretty girl," he sighs into the phone, twirling his knife between his fingers. "i'm sure they'll stop bothering you soon enough."

and they do. but you being the precious oblivious little thing you are, assume that you're just lucky. a guardian angel, you had said, was watching over you. miguel had just chuckled into the phone, deep and rich as he smirked at you from the roof once again.

"guardian angel? well lucky you, huh?" he had asked, feeling all too pleased with himself. you agreed with a nod.

well, if that's what you wanted to see him as he had no problem playing guardian angel for you.

and no he doesn't even want you to find out, because the last thing he wants to do is scare you. no no, he'd much rather protect you from the shadows, eliminating every single threat could ever harm a hair on your pretty little head. his reward comes in the form of you living your life, carefree smiles and all.

and granted he feels much more rewarded when he calls you late at night, deep voice teasing with an underlying sense of possessiveness as he speaks to you about anything and everything. he doesn't understand why and how you decided that he was safe to talk to, but you do, laughing and sighing into the phone until you've dozed off.

and if you've accidentally left your windows open, well of course being the gentleman he is, miguel will close them for you. but not before he stands at your bedside, raising his mask to watch you sleep peacefully. such a pretty little thing, so sweet and gentle. and after pulling himself away from your sleeping form, he quietly shuts the window behind him, yanking his mask back down with a smirk because he doesn't want anyone else to see you all vulnerable like that.

you were too trusting to begin with, but you trusting him is alright. after all he's the only one who's been looking out for you. anyone else tries to get near you and he'll have no choice but to tear their limbs off. they could be a threat to you, right?

but that's why he'll never let you out of his sight.

you're his after all.

[oneawkwardwriter]

Make Belief

pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader warnings/tags: fake dating trope, Steve saving reader from an idiot (Billy) confusing thoughts and feelings summary: Steve pretends to be your boyfriend to get you out of a nasty situation, but now you have to keep up the charade a/n: I wrote this before I was even on tumblr, thought I'd post it since I've been sucked back into my Steve Harrington obsession wc: 3.4k

It was a day like any other at Hawkins High. You stood in front of your locker, putting away some books you didn’t want to take home until you heard a cough coming from someone behind you.

As you turned around, you saw Billy Hargrove standing there with a smug look on his face. Billy was known to be a bully, and to be even associated with him made your stomach turn. He looked up and down while licking his lips, and you would give almost anything to slap that smirk off his face.

“What do you want, Hargrove?” You asked, wanting this to be over with as quick as possible.

“Come, come, not so hostile, sweetie. I just wanted to know what you were doing this evening,” He answered, talking down to you as if you were a child.

Before you could turn down his advances, a hand slithered around your waist and someone placed their head on your shoulder. You turned your head to see your best friend, Steve Harrington, looking at Billy with a hateful glare.

“Is he bothering you, darling?” He asked, posing as if he were your overprotective boyfriend, a kind gesture that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh, don’t worry, I was just about to tell our friend here that I sadly am not free this evening,” You played along, giving him a loving smile that doubled as a silent thank you.

“No fucking way,” Billy began, “King Steve finally got Little Miss Perfect to go on a date with him. I wonder what made our lovely princess here fold.”

“Well, Billy, you might not know this,” You said back, “but Steve and I have been dating for quite some time now.”

“That’s right,” Steve continued, “Today is our two-month anniversary, isn’t that right, babe?”

“Sure is, darling.”

Billy leaned against the lockers on the other side of the hallway, before saying, “Well, well, well, isn’t that just great? Just out of curiosity, what are you planning on doing for this special occasion?”

“Oh, nothing special, just watching a movie at the theatre and whatnot,” Steve said, before walking away and gently pulling you with him, not looking back until you turned around the corner.

After doing so, he let go and looked you in the eyes with a big smile. As if it were contagious, you felt a smile creep up as well, and you hugged the boy as a sign of gratitude.

“Thank you, Steve. I don’t think Billy will bother me for some time now,” You said, smiling up at him.

“Well, if you’re ever in dying need of a fake boyfriend,” Steve began teasingly, “you know where to find me.”

“Same goes for you, of course, if you ever get tired of constantly being asked out by beautiful, brainless girls.” You turned on your heels and walked off.

“I’ll hold you onto that offer.” Steve called after you before he walked away towards the exit of the building. But all of a sudden, he was cornered by Billy, who didn’t look pleased about the fact that his next conquest was already taken by another guy. 

“What a pleasure seeing you again, Billy,” Steve said in that sarcastic tone people knew all too well.

“I don’t believe for a second that you are dating, she’s far too precious for you,” Billy responded, staring him up and down.

“Pretty sure that’s not up you to decide," Steve deadpanned, "But anyway, what do you want?”

“I don’t like being lied to, Harrington. But if you two are serious about this, you won’t mind if Heather and I join you two, now do you?”

Steve thought for a moment. If he said that he did in fact mind, his cover, and more importantly, yours, would be blown.

On the other hand, if he answered that it wouldn’t be a problem, he would have to spend a night at the movie theatre with Billy. Sure, you’d be there, but who knew what could happen.

He took a deep breath, and gritted through his teeth, “Sure, why not, it’ll be fun.”

Billy smirked as if he’d won the lottery and let go of Steve. “Great, see ya at the movies, Harrington.” And then he walked off, leaving Steve in the hallway.

Steve got home not late after that, where he called you up, trying to find the words to tell her that they weren’t rid of Billy just yet. You picked up after the third ring, sounding just as cheery as ever.

“Hi, Steve, what’s up?” You asked, but before he could answer, you added, “Before I forget, I wanted to thank you again, I can’t imagine what I would’ve said to Billy if you didn’t come to rescue me, although I reckon it wouldn’t be filled with praising words.”

Steve chuckled, picturing you going off on Billy, ending with both of them walking away with at least a bruised lip. 

“Yeah, about that, I ran into Billy on my way out, and… well, let’s just say we’re not completely done with him yet,” Steve said, running his hand through his curls as he leaned against the wall, his other hand still around the phone.

“There is something you’re not telling me, so spit it out before I tell Robin that you use Farah Fawcett's hairspray.”

“Alright, alright, there’s no need to be dramatic. Billy cornered me and said that if we were dating, we wouldn’t mind him and Heather joining us at the movies. I’m so sorry, but I had no choice but to say yes.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. He was right, it would’ve been suspicious if you didn’t go through with your plans, but that didn’t make the thought of having to sit through a two-hour movie with Billy any less unbearable.

“It’s okay, as much as I hate having to be in the same room as him, it is what it is," You sighed, "The least we can do is make it as pleasant as we can for both of us and try to forget about them as much as possible. We can manage that, right?”

“We’ll try our hardest,” Steve answered, a small smile creeping its way on his face. “I’ll pick you up at seven, alright?”

“Sounds perfect, until then.”

“Yeah, until then.”

There was a brief silence, both not knowing if there was something else to be said, so they hung up on each other, still not sure what they were getting themselves into this time.

Seven o'clock rolled around, and you came down the stairs in a blue button-up dress and black sneakers, a small clutch in hand. 

Your mother sat on the sofa and saw her daughter from the corner of her eyes, making her head turn. 

“Oh honey, you look lovely, what’s the occasion?” She asked, a smile you hadn’t seen in a while gracing her face. 

“Steve and I are going to the movies, nothing out of the ordinary,” You answered, shooting your mom a quick smile.

“Except that you’re all dressed up, and is that make-up?” Your mom crossed her arms, not believing that it was just another movie night.

“Can’t I just look nice?” You asked, and just as your mom wanted to comment, a car horn honked, making you bid your mom goodbye and walk out the door.

Steve stood outside, leaning against his car wearing a buttoned-down white shirt and dark grey slacks, his usually wild hair slicked back, one strand having a will of its own and curling in front of his forehead.

“Sorry, my mom kept asking all sorts of idiotic questions,” You said as you walked down the front lane. 

“No problem, I made sure to be here on time so we don’t need to hurry,” Steve reassured, a wide smile plastered over his face. “You look nice, by the way, it’s a good ‘two-month anniversary’ look.”

“Thank you," You said as you look him up and down. "You as well, good choice.”

Steve walked to the door of the passenger seat and opened it for you, jokingly bowing down and gesturing his hand for you to step into the vehicle. You shook your head, silently laughing at the gesture. Steve climbed into the car as well before driving towards the theatre.

Although you both dreaded seeing Billy again, having to keep up the facade of you being a couple was easier than you'd expected. Somehow, it was just the same as being best friends, only with longing stares, and even those turned out to have a familiar touch to them.

Sure, having Billy practically breathing down your neck wasn’t what either of you enjoyed, but the movie turned out pretty great, and with the Steve next to you, the burden of being in the same room as Billy was less heavy on your shoulders.

However, that moment of bliss and contentment was blown away as soon as the movie ended, and Billy started talking to the two of you again. 

“Well, was the movie worth it for your two-month anniversary?” Billy faked his enthusiasm, still very much not convinced that you were telling the truth.

“Oh, absolutely, it was wonderful. Wasn’t it, honey?” You answered, trying to pull off your most genuine smile while standing so close to Steve you could be glued together.

“It truly was. Happy two-month anniversary, sweetheart,” Steve added.

But upon seeing the look of scepticism on Billy’s face, a sudden thought emerged in his brain. Before either of you could comprehend what was happening, Steve planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

A seemingly harmless action, one that wouldn’t be an issue for someone who was on a date with the person they had spent the last two months infatuated by, but to the two of you, who hadn’t been anything but friends for the majority of their lives, this single act brought forth a plethora of emotions and feelings, ones of which they weren’t sure if they should be acknowledged or even be there to begin with.

Against your best efforts, blood rushed into your cheeks, colouring them a bright scarlet. You tried to play it off as a part of your scheme, but there was a fine line between make belief and developing true affection, and the longer youthought about it, the more that line turned into a blur.

Whatever it was, it threw off Billy for a hot second. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t as stupid as some would make him out to be. He knew that it was just a ruse to get him to stop asking you out and going to the movies with them was just a way of getting under your skin.

Still, seeing your reaction to Steve's kiss, albeit not lasting longer than a moment or two, was something different than what he had seen before between the two of you. But he soon returned to his senses again and to his usual self.

“Well, it’s getting late. How about we go home, Heather?” He asked his date, who was more than willing to oblige. “I guess this is where we say goodbye. Have a fun anniversary, but not too much fun.” He winked before walking off with Heather on his arm, and when he was out of earshot, both of you let out a deep breath.

“That was probably one of the worst yet most enjoyable dates I’ve ever been on,” Steve admitted, shaking his head in disbelief at the irony.

“Too bad it wasn’t a real date then, huh?” You said rather absent-mindedly, not realising the words that came out before they were already spoken.

Once you did, you didn’t know if they were true. Had it been a date, or was it all a ruse to get Billy off your back? And when Steve had kissed you, albeit such a simple gesture, you had blushed like a school girl whose crush just talked to her; it had almost driven you over the edge, had you not controlled yourself.

Steve rested his hand on the nape of his neck and tilted his head a bit to the left, before saying, “Yeah, you’re right, that would’ve been one hell of a date if it were real… anyway, I should probably drive you home, it’s already dark outside.”

The car ride was silent until Steve saw an all too familiar car in his rearview mirror. 

“Shit, Billy’s following us,” He said, not louder than a whisper as if he was afraid that Billy could hear that you'd seen him. 

“Okay, it’s not a big deal, just drop me off at my house and all is well,” You suggested, not sure why Steve made it out to be worse than it was.

“And let him know we aren’t as serious as we claimed to be? No, that’s not going to happen, he won’t win.” There was a strange air about him, one you hadn't seen much of before.

“Steve, I don’t know what you’re on about, what on Earth will he gain if you just drop me off at home?”

“The satisfaction that we lied, the knowledge that if he were to push just long enough, he’ll convince you to go on a date with him," There was a hint of something you couldn't entirely place. It couldn't be jealousy, right? "Don’t you see, he wants this solely because he can’t have the one thing I pride myself on?”

“And what might that be?” You asked, not sure what he was talking about.

“A relationship, of any kind, with you. He’s jealous, that you’ll be around me despite my shortcomings, but won’t do the same for him.”

You sighed, and responded, “Somehow, I don’t know how or why, but that, sort of, makes sense. Well then, what do you propose?”

“Just trust me, okay?” He looked into your eyes, a silent plead to just follow along, until you said: “Look at the road, you idiot. And yes, of course, I’ll trust you, unless you have a really stupid plan.”

“Well, it’s something, I can tell you that.”

You pulled up at Steve’s house, still being tailed by Billy, who was about 500 metres behind them to come off as casual. You got out of the car and into the house, where you flopped down onto the sofa.

Through the curtains, you could see the headlights of Billy’s car. But instead of just passing by, the lights went off, suggesting the car had stopped. You and Steve exchanged a look of confusion, although both of you knew why he hadn’t just driven by the house as if it were a mere coincidence.

“Well, that's gonna be a problem,” You commented, crossing your arms. “So what do we do now? I don’t think he’s going away any time soon, it’s not like he has a life to return to.”

Just as you were about to propose you’d call off the whole plan and just confront Billy -surely you could handle him- Steve jumped up and dragged you onto your feet.

“That’s it, of course!” He exclaimed, holding both of your hands as new smile scattered across his lips.

“What is it?” You asked, genuinely confused as to what Steve was talking about.

“Billy might not have a life, but we do, so why would we care about him when we can just go about our merry way and do whatever we want?” Steve explained, his eyes lighting up with every word.

“And with that showing him that he is the least of our concerns,” You continued, starting to get a sense of his idea. “You know, you can be really smart. Sometimes, that is.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, things just sometimes fall right into place up there,” He responded, faintly pointing to his head.

You made your way upstairs, towards Steve’s bedroom, where he opened the window and climbed through it to land on the garage's roof.

It was a sort of tradition you had set in stone over the years, where whenever the situation seemed grim, you'd sit on the roof, whether that was on top of Steve’s garage or your bike shed, and simply look up to gaze at the stars.

No matter the circumstances, you had always found some peace and serenity in the stars gracing the midnight skies, looking down on the world lightyears away. Over the last couple of years, when hell seemed to break loose more than ever, it became their metaphorical fortress of solitude, where there were no troubles or problems, but just the cold air on their faces as they would sit in the dim light of the moon.

And so you wound up on the roof once again, with your backs against the cold brick wall as you admired the stars and felt your worries slip away into a moment of time.

You averted your eyes from the sky and looked at Steve, who must’ve read your mind as he had already done the same, softly smiling at your.

“You know, you were right,” You started, “Who cares about what Billy thinks we are; we are the ones who decide what is and what isn’t true when it comes to our lives.”

“Yeah, but we also shouldn’t be living in a lie,” Steve mumbled, shifting his gaze to his hands.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You say that it is up to us to decide what is real and with isn’t, but at the same time we’re trying to convince a douchebag that we are something everyone knows we’re not.” Steve slowly looked up, with a glimmer of a feeling previously unknown to you. “Sounds a bit hypocritical, if you ask me.”

“Are you insinuating that we’d rather lie than confront our true intentions?” You remarked, looking Steve in the eyes, “Because if that’s the case, I’ll be perfectly honest with you. The truth is, I found it surprisingly easy to pose as your girlfriend, to act as if I was in love with you. And that scared me, a lot.”

Steve’s eyes dilated slightly upon hearing those words, but you weren't done talking yet.

“You’re my best friend, and even though I’d support you without hesitation, I always told myself that I would never end up catching myself falling for you. I would not be one of those girls you’d date for a short time and then be tossed aside." You let your head hang for a moment and sigh. "What I’m trying to say is, is that I was so occupied trying not to fall that I didn’t realise that I had already hit the ground.”

At this point, Steve’s eyes were as big as saucers and his mouth was slightly agape, making you regret opening up him. You had already stood up to walk over to the open window when a hand held onto yours, entangling their fingers.

It all happened too fast to wrap his mind around. From the second you had opened up to where Steve quite forcibly turned you around to look into your eyes, staring into them so intensely, as if not even the end of the world would be able to separate you.

The rest of the world turned into a blur, a haze surrounding you, as if a simple action enforced a shield, preventing any troubles from the outside from breaking you apart.

Eventually, after what felt like a blissful eternity but in reality, couldn’t have been longer than thirty seconds, your lips parted, leaving you standing on the roof, being able to feel each other’s breath with how close you stood together, staring into each other’s eyes with your mouths agape, trying to fathom the reality of what had just happened.

Incoherent thoughts were running through your heads, not able to process a single thing other than knowing that there was undoubtedly no way back from this. And how terrifying that might sound, neither of you could care less.

Steve was the first one to speak up, although it was more like a whisper. “I’m not sure if that was the right thing to do, but god, it felt too right to be wrong,” He breathed, causing you to agree with a soft affirming hum and rest your head on his chest, feeling his heart beating as if it were about to explode.

After standing like that for at least a few minutes, you moved back inside, never taking your eyes off each other. As soon as you hit the bedroom floor, your lips found their way back to the other.

Whereas the first kiss was a tender one, the one that followed held enough power to light up an entire city. You were soon pressed up against the wall, your hands traveling from Steve’s shoulders towards his hair, threading your fingers through his curls, melting into the kiss.

His hands roamed your body, as he fought against his lustful impulses. Had it been any other girl, he admitted that he wouldn’t have given it a second thought and let his intentions take over, but you were different; you were better, far beyond anyone else and deserving of nothing less than utter perfection. For that reason, he reluctantly pulled away, leaving a ghost of your lips on his.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” He muttered, trying to catch his breath as he still stood mere inches away from you. He looked up at you and saw the baffled look on your face, making him regret his poor choice of words. “No, that wasn’t- that wasn’t what I meant… Look, I’m just gonna… start over, you know… rewind.” Steve took a deep breath. “What I meant to say, was that I want to do this the proper way. So that means you walking down the stairs in a cute dress, and me picking you up at seven to take you on a date… a real one, this time.” 

You smiled- no, laughed, you flat out chuckled. When Steve looked confused, you told him, “Sorry, I just realised something hilarious.”

“What? Please, enlighten me,” He questioned with a soft smile.

“This entire time we’ve been trying to convince people that we were together.” Steve still looked at her with questioning eyes. “Guess we're not playing make belief anymore, are we?”

© This work belongs to @oneawkwardwriter, please do not copy this work to any other site or claim it as your own. Reblogs are allowed and appreciated!

Taglist: @unofficialxmarvelfreak (to join the taglist, simply leave a comment or message me!)

[iamafanofcartoons]

RWBY Critics are NOT victims of bigotry, but they act like they are to gain attention and sympathy.

As you know, the RWBY Critics LOVE to portray themselves as victims of a fandom for “speaking the truth” and “being discriminated against” while promoting negativity and hate against the show and its writers.

But they are just milking it now.

I can’t even. We’re bigots now? What?

R/RWBYCritics complains about a female bisexual VA in no less than 5 different posts, you defend the military complex in no less than 25, you defend a cis white male antagonist who is an abuser and a murderer...and I’m not going to get into your obsession with promoting Blacksun, a straight ship involving Sun who stalks Blake, over Bumbleby, which is two girls.

Korrasami and Bumbleby both have the blackhaired woman leaving the dude for an upgrade.

But..what?...This is why you people call Bumbleby fanservice?

LGBTQI+ relationships are NOT a fetish.

If you’re referring to the QrowxBlake shipper who faked their death to accuse the fandom of being toxic and yet the videos claiming they committed suicide are still up?

So no matter what CRWBY does...its bad?

I assume because people are always defending and worshipping the male characters as “victims” that critics feel this way?

Yes, I think RWBY can and should improve. But I’m not going to spam R/RWBY and Youtube with videos screaming “bad writing” “pandering” “toxic fandom” and the like.

We watch a show to enjoy it, not to pick it to pieces and claim how you are “superior writers” when all you do is promote men over women, mansplain team RWBY, and try to shove “moral grayness” or straight ships down people’s throats.

“Fixing RWBY” is NOT saying “I think RWBY should improve” its basically “I want RWBY to be in the anime stereotype image that I want”.

Just...you take this way out of context.

We ask that you let us enjoy RWBY....you twist our words around and throw it back at us demanding that we let you complain regularly about a show that was made for fun!

I pity you.....Criticism used to be about love.

RWBY Critics have not shown any love....between insulting the writers, claiming the show or the company is dying, insulting the animation, saying “rwby bad or rwby sucks” or making video after video of “stupid female main character this or that” ?

That is not criticism. That is not wanting a show to improve. That is not criticizing from a place of love.

That is appropriating a cause/concept for the sake of lashing out/spiting others.

Which interestingly is adam taurus’ theme....appropriate a cause to cause harm, and make yourself seem like the victim whenever people defend themselves or lash out against you.

I joined the fandom in Volume 5...and guess what?  I loved seeing women able to defend themselves against creeps in a gas station. I loved seeing girls be able to win fights against men.  I loved seeing Female protagonists while the men were deuteragonists. A female main antagonist who was not sexualized into wearing revealing clothing, none of the female cast were. The male deuteragonist ability was a support-type instead of a main ability. There were so many things I loved about volume 5. But all I see is post after post and video after video complaining about RWBY, and saying how you people are making a “love letter to Monty” with your criticism.

Guess what Monty said about you people?

Monty asked his friends to help him write the show that was built on a napkin.

Monty Oum himself told critics like you to stop watching the show if you were going to complain like that.

But its not like you’ll listen to a word Monty said while he was alive.

This isn’t even funny....This is downright rude and insulting.

And this is what is commonly allowed in R/RWBYCritics....The amount of Anti-Robyn Hill posts is ...scary to say the least.

Now this is going to be my last post for now calling out the sheer lunacy of this toxic negativity being spread against RWBY, CRWBY and the fandom.

I’m going to focus on delivering something positive for this fandom.

Because if you’re gonna call yourself a RWBY Fan? That means enjoying the show, not enjoying picking the show apart for something to whine about.

Good Night. And God Bless.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

I have been thinking hard about how I'd want that man Danny Johnson catered to me. And I came to the conclusion that Danny breaking into the reader's home, threatening to have her guts all over the fucking floor if she isn't a good obedient girl would be ideal. Bonus points for begging, knife play and leather gloves. And the mask stays on for the whole show. Your choice if the scenario is really could-be-lethal stranger danger, or an arranged kinky night. I trust your taste in this. -Furball891

Oh my fucking Goddddd, Furball! I love you! You have been here longer than fucking anyone and I am so happy to be doing this for you! Seriously amazing prompt! I worked so hard on this and really wanted to get it out before the new year and I am so glad I managed it! I didn’t wanna rush this and think it is all the better for taking my time! Juding by the ask I figured you wanted a fem reader with she/her pronouns, hope that is correct. I am dying to hear your thoughts on this one, so without further ado let’s get into it!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 5.2K. Danny Johnson/DBD Ghostface X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Reader. Warnings: DUB CON. Canon Compliant Creepiness. Stalking. General Creep Behaviour. Mentions Of Murder And Violence. Voyeurism. Masturbation. Obsession. Breaking And Entering. Panty Snatching. Man Handling. Mask Kink. Hitting. Knife Play. Blood Play. Glove And Hand Kink. Spanking. Teasing. Danny Being A Bastard. Oral Sex. Blow Job. Throat Fucking. Vaginal Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Cream Pie. Dirty Talk. Praise. Begging. Degradation. Gagging. Victim Blaming. Threat Of Death. Complex Kink Play.

—

Be Good For Me.

—

Danny always loved to really get a feel for the objects of his affection and obsession. He liked to get in their head and feel like he really knew them before making that all important first introduction. And what better way to get to know someone than following them and seeing how they live? Stalking someone for days, bleeding into weeks and sometimes even months, and he had to say that you were one of his favourites.

Easily.

Not everyone got such specialised and personal attention, not everyone was worthy of so much of his precious time. The fact he deemed you to be important enough, you should be honoured really. He wondered how you would feel about his level of devotion to you.

He had that journal where he kept a record of all the people he had killed and how he did it, how it went, what he felt in the moment, what they said or how they looked, just whatever details he could write down for him to pour over at later dates to help him recreate and reminisce. Typically that book in one hand and his aching cock in the other.

He writes about you often. Small details and moments and logs of your daily goings on as he follows you. Honestly it would be almost kinda cute with how schoolyard crush the whole thing was, you know, except for the whole stalking, invading your privacy and with intent to harm, thing.

He naturally has so many pictures of you too. Stolen while you are out and about or through the windows of your home or when he has braved the inside of your home, you asleep in your bed or in your shower.

Trying to pick the right time to strike might seem difficult to the casual outside observer but that is not the case for him. He plans so carefully, it has to be just right, he can feel when it is coming up.

There is a kind of giddiness to it when he can tell whoever he is after is almost ready for him, this excitement and anticipation that permeates deeply inside him. He really revels in those last few times watching the person, knowing it is so close to the end, the fantasy so near to becoming reality. Fingers itch in anticipation and his mind runs wild with the possibilities stretched out before him, so many choices, but what avenue to take? He thinks over that during those last few times watching someone, thinks long and hard about what he wants to see, hear and experience from that person.

Usually it comes to him easily and it is so clear.

But then we get to you and how he feels when you are nearly ripe for the taking.

It is hard to describe, stumping him on that front is no small feat when writing is his livelihood and so integral to his personal ‘hobby.’ His vocabulary is massive and he is so rarely at a loss for words and yet that somehow, you just have that effect on him.

Tonight is the last time he is just going to watch.

There is always something special in that, even with people that aren’t as important to him as you are, knowing the next time he comes by it is with that explicit intent. That this private one-sided affair, whatever between him and them, or in this case, him and you, is about to change forever.

It was truly a unique feeling.

Sitting outside in what had become his favourite spot to watch you outside of your home. He’d followed you all day, really took it all in because he knows it is so close. You had the day off, went out, did some errands and shopping before coming back home, doing chores and cooking and just all of the best mundane things you got up to in your usual daily life.

He watches you make breakfast for dinner, he loves watching you cook. He watches you eat in front of the tv and as you do your dishes. He watches you relax and unwind.

And he enthusiastically watches you masturbate in the shower and he jerks off to you solo for the last time. Watches as you have your back against the shower wall, how you gasp and the way your body reacts to how your fingers work in and out of yourself. He can't wait for his fingers to be in place of yours, feel how soaked you are, be the one making you cry out like that.

You look too good, watching how your back arches, chest bounces and the water cascades down your frame. How can he be anything but obsessed with you?

He cums shortly after you do. Paints the glass of the window and wishes that he was cumming on your still trembling form, post-orgasm.

Soon after you go to bed. You read for a while and pass out.

He watches you sleep.

He knows if he goes in there tonight he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

Then again he thinks why is he holding back? His hands are on the window, starting to open it. He gets it halfway before pausing.

Normally he always sticks to his plan, when he picks the night he never deviates but you, fuck, you are naked and sprawled our so inviting and so damn tempting. He could always come take another pair of your panties for his collection, he loves how you react when you notice another pair is missing but no, he shouldn't.

He knows that even him considering this is crazy.

He makes himself pull away, less than a day and you are going to be all fucking his. He knows that the anticipation is going to make the eventual prize all the sweeter. All the more worth it.

The next day the tension is palpable. He can hardly wait to enact it, to get you all to himself. He is even more captivated than usual. If only you knew the effect you had.

You are so unaware.

He likes to think it is because he is that good at what he does rather than you being so utterly unobservant.

You are so busy, having a clearly stressful day, you look so tense and keyed up as you are making your dinner again at the end of your day. He watches as you are chopping vegetables almost angrily, in your comfy clothes, still damp from the shower you hopped into as soon as you got home.

He pictures coming in quietly, of coming up behind you, taking the knife out of your hand and using his own on you. Pinning and contorting you in such a way that your knife is right there but just out of reach.

A taunt.

The ability to defend yourself nearly in your grasp, a frankly perfect way to mock you. He is already hard just thinking about it.

He can’t wait anymore.

He can sit here and fantasise and dream, or he can make it happen.

It is shockingly easy, you need much better locks, your home security is almost nil. You really should do something about it, or some real sicko could get in here.

This isn’t the first time he’d been inside your home. Usually you were either out of the house or dead asleep.

But now it’s night time and the lights are on and you are plating up your dinner and the food smells so good and it is all terribly exciting for him.

He watches you through the entryway of your kitchen door for just a few moments, your back is to him, he sneaks up, so quietly and then his hands are on you.

You have been so in your own head lately.

You were still pouring over your super shitty and stressful day, but finally you were home, clean, had food and wine and you were dying to start unwinding. Just as you pick up your bowl of pasta and are about to make your way to the living room to drown yourself in trash tv you feel a strong pair of leather clad hands on you. One hand over your mouth and one on your shoulder and you jump, he holds you so close to him, feels the warmth of you and how your body fits against his for the first time.

He can smell you and touch you and even through the gloves he knows you are soft, pliable, perfect.

And all for him. Just for him.

He had been thinking long and hard about what should be the first thing he would say to you and what he chose was ultimately basic but it was the way in which he said it that makes it good. He leans in and says in your ear in a tone that is far too light and teasing, “Hey there.”

What the fuck, who the fuck was this and what were they doing in your house?

You are terrified, struggling right away on pure instinct, and he holds you tighter, barely holding back a laugh. It isn’t even fair, he is so much stronger than you and you have no hope.

He tries to quiet you. “Shhh, shhh! Awe don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

You don’t stop, in fact you struggle more and he gets even harder than he already is.

He adjusts, one arm around your neck and his hand over your mouth, holding you closer, his other hand slides down your shoulder and holds your hip, presses your ass to him with the express purpose of you being able to feel how hard he is. You let out a muffled sound of fear from behind his hand.

He speaks to you again, “Fuck, you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? How long I’ve been watching you-” A small grind on your ass and it feels almost as if your heart is gripped in an icy hand of pure terror.

You have to do something.

You make a futile attempt to kick him, throw an elbow back too and it doesn’t work. He laughs, he actually laughs, “Oh wow, look at you! Love when they put up a fight-”

“They.”

He said “they.”

The implication of that, of the ‘they’ meaning more than one, you aren’t the only one this sick fuck has watched and stalked and done God knows what to. What will he do to you? What does he want?

“-you must be really fucking scared hmm? Let’s check-” He turns you around, makes you face him, he shoves you so hard against the counter, the bowl containing your dinner tips over, your food spills but you aren’t focused on that.

Instead you are forced to confront that white mask, that permanent scream and the cold empty eye sockets, it looks horrifyingly unforgiving. His figure looks imposing, still pressed so close, one hand covering your mouth as his other hand is on your throat, thumb pressed just right and he can feel your pulse. Your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest.

He makes sure to watch your face during this, watch how your expression shifts upon seeing him, truly seeing him, for the very first time. God it was good. You looked totally thrown off balance, so confused and he was eating it up. He couldn’t hide how excited he was when he said, “Oh yeah you are.”

You are still trying to struggle and make sounds, any small thing you could do to not feel so helpless and he tsks, tightens his grip and you almost whimper, “Shhh, shhh, quiet. I know, I know. This must be so exciting for you but I need you to calm down for what I want to do-”

You refuse.

As if you would just give in so easily and do whatever he says. You continue to put up a fight.

Or you do until you hear his knife being unsheathed and feel it press to your throat. It makes you freeze. His mask is close to your face as he says in a tone as sharp as the blade in his hand, “Now I don’t want to hurt you-”

His head tips forward and he laughs, a small shake of his head, “-fuck, couldn’t even say that with a straight face, alright, I’ll rephrase-”

His head is back up as he hums and you can’t see his eyes through the mask but you can FEEL him staring you down as he considers how to word this next part, “-okay so I DO want to hurt you but honestly I want to, hopefully, be hurting you for a looong time. I don’t want a reason to kill you.”

He leans in closer, right in your ear, “Not yet.”

The blade feels cold, you’ve never felt more afraid, he is surely able to tell and loving every second of this. He speaks again, “So if I move my hand are you gonna scream?”

You shake your head, eyes pleading, trying to convince him and after a moment of thought he says, “Okay, don’t make me do something-” his knife moves so slowly, a tease that doesn’t cut but tells you just how sharp it is, “-rash.”

He moves his hand and you don’t make a sound, even when he presses the blade harder, the edge of it biting into your tender flesh and he coo’s out, “Ooh there you go. It’s a start.”

He pats the side of your cheek condescendingly with the hand not holding the knife, the cool leather in any other circumstance would feel nice. You are about to work up the courage to ask what he wants from you but he beats you to it.

“So if you do everything I want and are a good girl, I might not just spill your guts all over your nice clean kitchen floor.”

You could do that.

You could be good, you could be useful and entertaining and whatever else he wanted you to be if it means you will get to live.

A shaky nod with a shuddering inhale before you say with a surprisingly steady voice, “I’ll be good.”

A small laugh before saying, “I bet.”

Jesus, you were in deep, how were you ever going to make it out of this with your life?

The way he rocks his hips into yours, makes you feel again how hard he is. With one hand on the back of your neck, the other one still holding the knife dangerously close, he kisses you through the mask and you have to fight the urge to squirm away from him.

When he pulls away he practically purrs for you to get on your knees for him and you fall to them the second he inches the knife back away from your throat. “So obedient.”

He traces the line of your jaw with the edge of his blade and tits your head up, trying to commit the sight of you scared and on your knees before him to memory. He speaks in a tone that even in circumstances where your life was at stake would make you shut up and take notes. “I don’t want you to just go through the motions, I want you to make me feel like you truly want it. Convince me.”

You can manage that.

You lean in, he is holding that knife and his other hand is on your chin, leather clad thumb on your bottom lip, forces you to open your mouth and he tilts and turns your head from side to side, inspecting you.

“Mmm this mouth of yours, the thoughts I have had about it-” With your mouth open you lick over his thumb and it makes his sentence stop short as he watches your lips close around it and suck, tonge lathing over it inside of your mouth.

You’ve known him for such a short while but my God could he talk, good to know he was capable of shutting up.

You pull off and then you lean in closer and mouth at the outline of his hard cock through the material of his pants and press a few kisses there, looking up at him. You had your hands on your spread thighs as you stared up at him, you began to beg. More pressing of your lips bookending the word as you ask, “Please?”

“Please what?” He almost wants to hold his breath as he waits to see what you are going to say.

“Please let me make you feel good?”

Oh that is fucking great to hear, turns him on further.

But he is greedy and wants more. He has that knife to your cheek now and he sing-songs out, “I dunnoooo-”

You whimper in fear and are still looking up at him, you need to try harder to impress him. More kisses, your cheek right against his hard cock, you can almost feel it throbbing through the fabric. You step it up.

“Please let me prove I’m worth keeping alive? Let me choke on it.”

God, he knew there was a reason he liked you so much.

“Fuck yes, you may.”

You jumped at the chance. If you could give him some spectacular head then he would let you live, right?

Your hands worked on opening his pants and freeing him from the confines of his clothing. There was this look in your eyes, lust, hunger, genuine want.

He wanted to make you choke on him until you cried and you honestly looked like you wanted the same thing.

You were a good actor.

You actually looked like you fucking wanted this, wanted him. The threat of death could make people do crazy things though, what better motivator than a big fuck off hunting knife right in your face?

The thing was you weren’t that good of an actor.

You actually couldn’t help it. You were feeling insanely turned on by this. Had to admit to at least yourself, it was so much like the porn you liked to read and indulge yourself in.

You had his pants open, your masked assailant had no underwear on, went totally commando, he really had been planning on doing this and wanted to make it as easy as possible. Less clothes means easier access after all.

Then you lean in, tongue starts at the base of his shaft and runs all the way up the length of him. Your breath is warm, your lips are soft and your tongue is so wet, you’d barely gotten started and it felt fucking good.

You kiss and lick and your mouth closes around the head of his dick and you suck indulgently. You hum around him and start sliding more of him into your mouth right away, no more preamble.

Your mouth feels amazing, better than he ever dreamed. He leans against the counter, making himself even more comfortable while you were certainly starting to feel less than on your knees.

You tightened your lips and pulled back, sucking harder, bobbing your head up and down, your hands on his thighs for support, looking up at him.

“Shit, this mouth-” He bucks forward and you take it with a slight gag. You move with more purpose. Harder, your hand around the base, you suck and take him deeper, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth as you continue to move.

His hand is on your head, pulling you forward until your nose is pressed flat against him, forcing himself as deep as he can into your mouth. He rocks into you over and over, fucking your throat, feeling how you gag and your throat closes around him and he groans out, “Fuck! Take it so well-”

He needs to see more of you. Knife hooks into the strap of your tank top and he cuts it in half, you make a sound of protest against his shaft but he is holding the weapon so threateningly, pointing it right at you as he says, “You know what I want.”

You nod once, not pulling him out and your hands come up and pull the top down, exposing your braless tits to him.

“Perfect.”

He pulls back and thrusts in again and you groan, spit is leaking out now as you continue to move, you shift your hips in a weak attempt to try and make yourself more comfortable, it doesn’t work.

He has the urge and doesn’t stop it. He cuts your cheek and you try to yelp, pausing your sucking, but the knife is still right there, pressing into the fresh wound and it makes you hold him in your mouth, terrified of what might happen if you pull him out and stop.

Your brows are furrowed in discomfort and the expression and the wet and muffled sounds of pain makes him throb on your tongue, he thrusts in again, harder, you gag and as he looks at you it almost steals his breath.

You on your knees, sweat on your brow, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, drool dripping down your chin and onto your tank top, blood streaking down your cheek and onto your exposed chest.

He wants this moment forever.

Lucky for him he came prepared. He pressed the knife into the cut, digs it in harder and you groaned and the vibrations up his shift makes him groan again too, “Don’t fucking move.” he spat.

His other hand is off of your head, well over half his cock is still shoved into your mouth, it weighs heavy on your tongue.

He takes out the camera he purposefully brought along and lines up the shot.

He takes a picture and you look perfect, he is pouring over the picture for a moment, debating about taking another.

You get an idea, you slowly move back, tip of his cock pressed to your lips, spit dripping off of it, your hand on his shaft, holding it there. You lick the tip and said, “Go on.”

As if he needs encouragement.

You play along and allow him to get some different shots, lean down and give his balls some much needed attention as you stroke the shaft, all while looking up at him, he praises you, “What a good little model.”

No way are you dying tonight. Not when you do something totally unexpected.

Your other hand that isn’t holding the base of his shaft swipes through the blood leaking from the cut.

You don’t break eye contact, you bring your hand back over, fingers that are stained scarlet pressed and run down the centre of your tongue and then you show off the blood there. Tastes salty and iron and you then wrap your still red stained fingers around his shaft and pull him back into your mouth. Slowly blowing him again with the mess of spit and blood and he throws his head back with the loudest groan yet.

Camera abandoned on the counter as you pick up the pace. Stroking and sucking, harder, messier, fucking your throat with his cock of your own free will.

He can’t take it anymore. “Ohhh, fuuuuck, that’s it-”

He pulls you off roughly and shoves you to the ground, dropping to his knees on top of you, forcing you how he wants you. Arms are over your head as he sits on your chest, one of his hands forcing your head down, other hand on his own cock.

He rubs his dick on your face, smears more of your blood on it.

“This is all your fault, you know that, right? How am I supposed to hold back around you when you look like this?” The mix of spit and blood and your tears has him harder than he’s been in God knows how long.

“Hope you aren’t gonna miss these.”

He pulls back and gets between your legs, his knee comes down on one of your thighs to help hold it open and he uses that knife, cuts up the leggings you had on. He rips the crotch open with both hands and then cuts your panties in the middle, exposing your dripping wet cunt to him. Gloves fingers run though your folds, you’re soaked and you shift with a small moan, fuck, leather shouldn’t feel that good.

“You are SUCH a slut, I fucking knew it!” His thumb presses and rubs over your clit and you bite back a moan, back of his hand smacks your inner thigh, hard, and you look up at him, he points at you again with that knife, makes your breath catch. His other hand still between your legs, thumb swirling around your clit as he says, “Don’t! Do that shit. I better hear you, understand?”

You nod shakily and he says, “Good.”

He moves off of you and reposes you again until you are face down ass up. He was so rough when he did it, then again, why would he care for your comfort in this?

He has one of your arms twisted behind your back to allow him to keep the upper hand, as if you can do much right now to stop him.

He lines up and sinks inside of you with one long stroke that has him releasing a loud and long moan and makes you inhale sharply at the stretch of him inside.

He watches as he enters you, disappearing into your drenched hole. His hips are resting on your ass as he is fully inside of you, soaking in the feeling of you. He breathes out, “Goddamn.”

You clench around him and he groans out your name, rocking in and out once and you moan, genuine and so hot and he takes then. Grip on your wrist tightens as he sets the pace, brutal and unrelenting as he fucks your own blood into you.

You feel so good, just hot and soaked, he is not holding back at all, why would he after waiting for long?

Loud moans, and panting out broken dirty talk as he is holding your head down, one cheek to the floor, knife gripped in his fist as he ruts into you, pulling you back onto him with the hand that is on your wrist. “Stupid, fuck-ing slut. Look at you! Drooling on the floor-”

It didn’t take long to get to that point, lost in sensation and being vocal right along with him. You are moaning incoherently, panting really hard yourself. “Worthless bitch, this is alll you are good for, fuck! Lucky you have such a sweet cunt.”

The way he has you is killing you, he is hitting that sweet spot perfectly, you feel like you are drowning in pure pleasure, the way he is talking down to you is only adding to it.

You are a moaning mess, shifting and squirming, not fighting back but just unable to stay still because of how good it feels.

He feels it. You are actually getting close, and so fast! He can’t believe it and so he acts on instinct and makes fun of you.

"Holy shit, no way-” He pants out, another hard thrust that has you gasping, “-you're actually gonna fucking cum from this?"

You moan something that sounds akin to a yes, eyes nearly rolling back and your sweaty fingers barely able to gain purchase on the floor below you.

He laughs breathlessly at that, this is so fucking perfect, too perfect, he spits out "Beg for it."

You do.

You beg pathetically to cum on a murders cock, you don’t care about anything else, the only important thing in this moment is getting off and satisfying yourself. “Please, shit, please, lemme cum, wanna cum so-so bad, please, please-”

And he lets you.

“Do it.” You cum hard on his dick, strangled moan pouring out of your panting mouth. You haven’t cum this hard in forever, gush around him and it makes him groan. You think he is still degrading you, something about you being a bitch you think but your ears are ringing and who cares when you are riding this high.

He isn't far behind.

He crushes you. Pins you hard. Knife to your throat with his arm around you, he might slit your throat as he cums inside of you, would he though? You fear he would but what can you do to stop him?

His other hand in between your legs, rubbing your clit sloppily, you came so recently, you’re too sensitive, it hurts. You can't control how your hips buck or how your walls squeeze him, this is just what he wanted, "Fuck-choking me, so good, gonna fucking cum in you-"

Your walls squeeze him again and you moan weakly. His grip on the knife tightens, "You want that?"

You nod frantically, panting out, “-yes, yes, yes-” over and over again and he finally spills.

His hips grind into your ass, and he cums deep in you, groaning out into your ear, "Goooood girl."

You felt like it.

You also felt like a wreck.

Blood and sweat and cum. Heaving and so hot. He slowly pulls out, you feel his hand on your ass, spreading you open, you feel his cum leaking out and he spanks you lightly.

You take a deep breath before asking, "Did, haaa, did I do good?"

He responds amusedly as he snaps a picture of your abused and cum leaking hole, "Good enough to live to see another day."

You are there on the ground. You feel and hear him get up, hear him walk away and you stay there, recovering. Can’t even think about everything that just happened, much too spent for that.

You then feel his hands again. Adjusting you to a much more comfortable position,rolling you onto your back, a warm and wet cloth starting to wipe away the streaks of red. You are looking up at him now and he still has the mask on. You say softly, "Hi."

He can't help letting out a little laugh, shake of his head as he responded, "Hi."

He is still wiping you down as he says, "You seem like you're doing just fine."

You roll your wrists and stretch as you said, "Yes I am. I get to live another day."

He is sitting back on his heels as he looks you over, admiring the already forming bruises and marks and the hurt he inflicted on you as he asks, "You ever worry you won't be good enough for that one day?"

You scoff and laugh as you sit up, cock of your head as you say, "What do you think I'm masturbating to when you're creeping on me?"

He lets out a soft groan at that, "This is why I fucking love you." his hands on your arms pulling you to him.

How could you not be his favourite?

[pooopopop]

What happened in 2015, if it did indeed play out the way it was described by the fan, was between consenting adults one of whom was publicly in an open marriage. Never once did the fan say they were coerced or uncomfortable with the situation. Don't take away their agency because you don't agree with the lifestyle choices that were made.

Well tell that to the people who deny that it happened purely on their faith in Misha’s character. Look I’m not accusing the guy of rape. My post was just facts you can take at face value and decide for yourself whether it was right or wrong.

Me though I’m still judging him for it because that’s not something you do just the one time. Those girls turned him down but even jokingly inviting a couple teenage fans drunk at a club is pushing too many boundaries to me and makes it seem like he’s gotten too comfortable propositioning fans. The age difference is the biggest creep factor though, like if those were fans off of tumblr who had been watching for a years , that means they were definitely exposed to all the erotica surrounding him on here and all the years of him posting it and encouraging it himself, while they were <18. And they’ve all met teenagers at conventions for the entire run of the show, they even made the musical episode outright acknowledging the horny high school girl fan demographic that surrounded Destiel. He probably didn’t think about all that in the moment, but he’s certainly well aware of it, and like I said if that post is true it’s unlikely to be the only time he’s propositioned young women who were fans. Ok, Here’s a scenario. Recently Misha met Billy Elish’s mom and found out that she’s a fan. Neat! And omg I’m dying she liked THIS Instagram post LMAO!! Billy Elish is a 20 year old woman today, right, so she could totally hook up with him and it’d be legal. Nothing weird. Well, that is until you remember how Billy openly talks about having a total porn obsession since elementary school. And, uh, well, now that I think about it, post is from 2011 so…. but she’s legal now! And she has agency. since we all know that as soon as you turn 18, you really might as well be 40. And you definitely aren’t naive for believing that whatever image that some celebrity you admire has projected publicly is practically the same as knowing him, and there for sure isn’t a massive power imbalance being taken advantage of there because 40-year-old celebrity guy has already won you over years before ever knowing you existed. at the end of the day, anon, all these actors are just horny middle aged men. Even your most favorite one. sobs

[obeiii-mee]

Hey! Sorry to bother you with a second ask but i thought this one would be cool. Fluffy headcanons of the demon brothers watching scary movies with MC??? Somewhere MC gets scared, and some where they don't? Thanks again!! :)

It’s no bother!! I love getting requests from you guys! The more, the merrier. I sort of hc that the brothers and MC do have movie night every week or so and with them being demons, they tend to levitate towards the horror genre. Thank you for sending this, this is really cute :)))

Without further ado—-

————————————

The Brothers watching Scary movies with MC:

Lucifer:

-Haha mf already knows how this is going to end

-He warned you, he really did

-The horror movies DevilDom has to offer are nothing, and I mean nothing, like the ones from the human world

-I’m not going to go into detail but imagine Two Girls One Cup, in a less kinky and more gorey way (then times that by 10)

-But you were adamant into giving it a go and he literally could not deny you in that moment

-Because you were giving him the puppy eyes

-That’s like, the finishing blow you use every time to get your way with him and as far as you know it’s the only one that works so-

-He expected your reaction to the last second

-You were traumatised for lack of a better word and you were basically watching the whole film through the cracks between your fingers

-Seeing you in that state was like a punch in the gut but he couldn’t stop himself from throwing in a subtle ‘I told you so’

-“I told you watching something like this before bed is a bad idea, MC.”

-He might be a bit condescending and judgemental at first, but he’s probably going to baby you a bit for the rest of the night

-Because he feels bad he allowed you to watch it in the first place

-HAHAHAHA SOFT LUCIFER HAS BEEN SUMMONED, USE HIM WISELY

-He will start muttering words of comfort to you later because he’s certain you’re going to have trouble sleeping

-Because of that one time, he’s very hesitant to let you watch another horror film anytime soon

-But he will relent eventually (especially if you want to watch a human horror film as those are technically less extreme)

-If it makes you happy, he will go through with it, even if he has to let you cling onto him for the rest of the day

-Besides, the way you cuddle into him while you’re watching a horror film is very cute and endearing to him

Mammon:

-Ah yes, the most effective method of waking up the entire House of Lamentation at 3:00 am

-Mammon screaming his own vocal cords out in his room as he tries to get through his human’s favourite horror movie without dying of a heart attack

-It was his idea because he’s definitely the type to go: “Yeah let’s do this, it will be fun. Don’t get too scared alright MC? The Great Mammon will be here to protect ya.”

-And then ten minutes in, he’s basically in your lap

-Half an hour in, he turned himself into a demon burrito with his blankets

-You were enjoying the movie, laughing at the stupid sound effects and poor quality while Mammon next to you has wrapped himself in like two dozen blankets and pillows

-“Mammon you’re going to overheat.”

-“Don’t be silly human, I’m a demon who lives in hell. I can take high temperatures the same way I can take this damn movie!”

-He doesn’t take either of them well

-Mammon and the horror genre don’t mix well together to begin with

-So even if you might enjoy horror, he doesn’t react well to it at all

-And he’ll be low-key relieved if you tell him you guys don’t have to watch any sort of horror film for your date night

-“Well I guess if you don’t want to, then we don’t have to. Can’t make my human do something they’re uncomfortable with eh?”

-But if you do watch a scary movie with him, be sure to show any sort of physical affection to him as often as possible

-You don’t have to say anything, just hold his hand or let him put his head in your lap or something

-It might stop him from screeching like a female sloth in heat

-The last time that happened, his brothers weren’t too pleased with him

-They about to recreate the horror film scenes onto him, bring the popcorn have fun

Levi:

-For some reason, I feel like he doesn’t get scared easily while watching stuff

-I mean, after decades of obsessively watching animes with brutal character deaths (like Attack on Titan style) and grotesque horror games that are pretty nasty even to demons, let alone humans;

-A horror film, from the human world or even DevilDom, doesn’t do much for him

-It will have to have very good psychological horror in it if you want the hairs on his arms to stand up in anticipation

-Tension is a big deal for him and he will immediately shut off the TV if there are any cheap jump scares

-But, if you manage to find just the right thing for him?

-You’ll both be hiding under the bed in no time under the bathtub more like

-Hell, if the film you’re watching is that good, he might even be holding onto you for dear life without realising it and getting flustered about it

-For weeks afterwards, any sound that is remotely similar to one from that movie will probably send both of you into panic

-You came to his room one night because you’ve had a nightmare about the stupid film and legitimately thought there was a fucking demon serial killer in your room

-So you wanted to stay in his

-“But what if there is a serial killer in your room and now you just led it to me MC????”

-It’s all jokes, there’s no question he would lock both of you in his room and then stay there with you wide awake until dawn

-You’re his best friend after all, he would have to be completely heartless to leave you on your own! (Besides Levi is terrifying when he wants to be)

-One time you were sleeping over and the sound of fumbling woke you tf up

-And Levi immediately turned into his demon form, like he was ready to throw hands with this fictional murderer that supposedly sneaked into his room

-“DON’T WORRY MC, I’LL PROTECT YOU!”

-“Ah never mind, it’s just Mammon breaking into your room again to steal your Ruri-Cham figurines and sell them on Akuzon.”

-“Oh OK.”

-“.....”

-“WAIT MAMMON WTF YOU FUCKING SCUMBAG, GET OUT OF MY ROOM-“

-I’m playing Minecraft

Satan:

-Believe it or not, Satan doesn’t care much about horror movies

-Don’t get me wrong, he loves watching his brothers shit their pants out of fear in the middle of one while he silently smirks to himself because watching other people suffer brings him euphoria

-Especially if someone actually manages to find a film that is excellent enough to spook Lucifer, because then he will be cackLING

-But, overall, he watches a lot of shows revolved around drama and crime

-That’s his thing

-However, he won’t turn you down if you’re up to watching a scary movie with him

-Any time spent with you is valuable time seeing as it won’t be long before his brothers start hogging you again like the cockblockers they are

-He is honestly surprised to find out you seem to be rather amused by those sort of movies

-So, even if it’s not inherently something he does on the regular, he would definitely watch a scary film with you if you enjoy them that much

-But in exchange, he makes you promise to read with him until bedtime rolls around (imagine Lucifer having a fucking curfew for his brothers and you lmao)

-So for the rest of night you guys just read together, ya know, like sappy romantics

-Tbh, this man will do almost anything with you as long as both of you are having fun

-He knows it’s not likely, but he insists on sleeping in the same room that night just in case you have nightmares and he needs to comfort you

- :)

-Satan is a gentleman. Idk how many people that don’t play OM expected to hear this

Asmo:

-Why would you want to watch a movie when you could be watching him???

-I mean, you would rather watch all that gory stuff on the TV than his beautiful face?

-He may get salty over a fucking movie tbh

-Horror films aren’t something he generally looks for while trying to pick a movie to watch

-He can definitely handle them better than Mammon but it’s not something he takes great pleasure in watching

-But the first time he ever sits down with you to watch one, he’s very intrigued to see your reactions

-You started feeling the sensation of absolute dread creep in at the very beginning and you were trying your best to act like you weren’t getting affected by what you saw on the screen

-But you were

-You went from “I’m grown ass adult, I can watch a fucking horror movie, no problem.”

-To “Welp, not enough of a grown ass adult for this-“

-And Asmo thought the way you tried to hide your nervousness was very mesmerising in a way

-He was planning on flirting with you during the movie anyway, but now that you were pressing himself against him?

-Oh boy, Oh boy

-“Darling if you wanted to touch me, you could’ve just said so. Making the excuse of watching a movie is unnecessary.”

-Nightmares? What nightmares? You won’t have time to have nightmares ;)

-haHAHA funny inappropriate joke

-It’s Asmo, it’s mandatory to have at least one of those added in here

Beel:

-Beel will show up if there’s food and that’s that

-He doesn’t care what type of movie is playing on the TV as long as he has a bucket of popcorn next to him at all times

-Horror films aren’t something he can’t handle, he’s a demon like the rest of his brothers and he is used to...violent deaths and such

-He doesn’t get scared but there are times where he gets attached to the characters

-Especially movies with actual good and not cringeworthy dialogue

-Therefore, when they die, he gets sad even if they’re just fictional and their death had no real impact

-He also thinks that the way you can watch these things without flinching is impressive

-I mean, he can watch it and so can his brothers because they are demons

-They’ve done worse things than the things you see in horror films

-But you’re a human! So it’s weird to see you watch a person get repeatedly slammed against a wall until their neck snaps without batting an eyelid

-Overall, he does not have an opinion on scary movies

-He gets a bit emotional when a character he really liked dies

-But other than that, he’s just focused on eating

-And occasionally patting your head affectionately

Belphie:

-He doesn’t really like horror films because there’s a lot of screaming and tense music and he’s just trying to nap in your lap (rhyme)

-He doesn’t really need sound effects like that in the background while he’s trying to sleep

-But one day he was like “Hey, what if I show my favourite human this particular scary film?”

-And he did

-And he’s internally dying and feeling guilty and yet so flustered because of you

-It’s like you suddenly turn into this very fidgety and anxious mess and he thinks you just look....cute

-At some point you were getting overwhelmed and sprung up on your feet to turn the lights on

-And he just grabbbed your wrists, pulled you down next to him and let you press your head against his chest

-As mentioned, he’s a little shit and will tease you for being such a scaredy cat

-“That was the most predictable jumpscare and you still flinched, wth is wrong with you lmao.”

-But at the same time....

-“Relax. It’s just a horror movie. You’ll be fine. Besides, I’m here. Like I would let something bad happen to you.”

-That’s sweet, even if the tone of voice may not imply it because he’s such a brat-

-He actually really likes holding you for once, because usually he’s the little spoon

-He’s still a bit of a sadist so I imagine him sitting there and watching this while giggling to himself

-Isn’t he the cutest, laughing at other people’s misery and their never ending suffering?🥺🥺🥺 UwU

-Ah well, at least he has the decency to spoil with affection afterwards and make sure you have no nightmares that night

-You know, as payback for the horrific shit he made you watch with no warning

————————————

OK, I think I made a decent job of this even though it took longer than it actually was meant to. Thank you for reading though. I’ve got so many requests to go through and I’ve been feeling motivated lately so yeah!

See you soon

Al~

[fatiguing-thoughts]

Change of Heart - Paul Lahote x Reader

Request: “Hey, since you don't feel comfortable writing about the poly imprinting thing the other anon suggested, I have an idea based on what they said that maybe you could write instead. So instead of the reader imprinting on both, a reaction type of thing for when the reader had a crush on one, but falls in love with the other with time. If it is preference style, you can get to show both situations (crush on Embry, but falls for Paul later and vice versa)”

this is the crush on Embry -> falling in love with Paul version

Having a mother who was obsessed with the beach was the reason that your life turned out the way it did. 

That’s where you met your best friend, Embry Call. 

His mother worked at the souvenir shop, she frequently brought him to the beach as well. So time after time of running into each other and playing together as kids-- you grew up hanging out all the time. 

Despite you living and going to school in Forks, you guys saw each other at minimum three times a week. And as you got older, you only hung out more. Even into young adulthood.

You guys did everything together. School dances when your moms forced you into going, going to see the movies either of you were dying to watch, and simply hanging around doing nothing. It was like you were dating, but if dating meant that you were merely best friends. No kissing, the awkward touching of hands here and there. 

But overall, you and Embry connected deeper than anyone else. You would stay up talking all night, picking the brains of one another’s minds. Listening to music together, singing your favorite songs. Sometimes you stared a little too long at his lips, but that was besides the point. You guys were friends. 

I had grown quite the crush on Embry, but I knew deep down that it wouldn’t be worth risking the friendship. I could never risk anything awkward between us. I have never felt this comfortable around another person before, and I doubt that I would find it again. So holding Embry close to my heart as a best friend was an idea that I was well acquainted with. I’d grown to accept it. 

Though, as time went on, he began to gain some newer friends, which was normal. What high school boy didn’t hang out with other boys? The only issue was, it seemed to tear into your Embry time. 

It was fine, really. Embry’s happiness was my top priority. But when he finally introduced me to his friends, I’ll admit I felt pretty excited. To finally meet some new people, to find friendship in those other than Embry. 

Embry was always my best friend, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a bigger circle. He spoke so highly of them all, how could I not be thrilled to meet them? 

So when I did, I could say that I was both incredibly nervous, yet excited. 

“They’re gonna love you.” He reassures me on our way to Jake’s house. 

“How do you know that?” I ask, fiddling with the rip in my jeans.

“Because, I love you. You’re the best friend anyone could ask for. They’re gonna think you’re a lot of fun and super cool, because you are.” He smiles that signature Embry Call grin. 

Friend. Ugh. Get it together, (Y/N). 

“Thank you, Em.” I smile back.

“Of course.” 

The drive to Jacob’s was quick from Embry’s considering they both lived in La Push. Pulling up into the house, Embry led me into the garage where they were working on Jacob’s project car, the rabbit. Embry would never shut up about it, his eyes brighter than the sun whenever he talked about how much fun it was, how he enjoyed finally being able to exercise his mechanic skills. 

“Hey guys, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Jacob, Jared, Quil, and Paul. We have a few classes together.” He points at them as he says their names. 

“Hi.” I wave shyly. 

“(Y/N), I know you haven’t been here yet, but don’t worry. I’ll quickly become your favorite. Don’t stress.” Quil walks over, putting his arm around your shoulder and chuckling. 

“Oh great, thanks.” I roll my eyes. “You really weren’t kidding, Em. He’s nuts.” I giggle. 

“Wow, okay. Thanks for putting in a good word, Embry.” Quil laughs, walking back to where he stood. 

I quickly found myself growing comfortable, no wonder why Embry found good company in these guys. They were all so nice, so down to Earth. 

One in particular caught my attention, Paul. He was handsome, well built for his age. He seemed to be just as friendly as the rest, too. 

I watched as Embry and Jake worked on the engine, peering over the side of the hood. 

“Do you know anything about cars?” A charming voice rings out behind me. 

I turn over my shoulder and see Paul, I felt a blush begin to rise to my cheeks. Why did he get me so flustered for absolutely no reason?

“Uh, yeah. A little bit. Embry talks my ear off about them, plus I have some cars I like myself. But mechanical wise, they run circles around me.” I smirk. 

“Nice. They’re teaching me a lot more, I’m probably at the same level you’re at.” He chuckles, his deep brown eyes piercing into mine. 

“No you’re not, (Y/N) still runs circles around you. I’m the best teacher around.” Embry teases. 

“Well, you heard it here first. Looks like I know more than you about cars.” I tease.

“Might have to teach me some stuff some time.” He smirks. 

I felt the blush creeping onto my cheeks again, so I bent my head down, glancing down at my feet, before returning his gaze. 

“Maybe.” 

Embry looks between us, discomfort slightly showing on his face, which left me a bit confused. 

The drive back to my house was a bit awkward. 

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“I just... I got the vibe that you and Paul hit it off really well. Which would be fine, but he’s a bit of a... player. I just, I don’t want you to go through that. He’s a great friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend.” Embry gently tells me, looking into my eyes with his chocolate brown ones. 

“I see.” I swallow, looking out the window.

I was unsure of what to say. Paul seemed like a nice guy, but Embry wouldn’t steer me wrong. 

Over the next few weeks, I began to spend more and more time with them all. I grew to adore them more than I ever thought I would, they were just as important to me as Embry was now, my romantic feelings finally subsiding for him. Quil quickly became the impish friend that Embry told me he’d be, Jared was an absolute clown, Jake was beyond friendly, very caring. 

And well Paul... Paul was someone that really left me blushing almost constantly. He hung onto every word that left my mouth, and I did the same for him. He was sweeter than sugar to me, even if he was less of that to the rest of the group and everyone else. He had a certain softness in his voice, in his body language with me. Paul talked to me like I was the only person in the room, but Embry’s warning loomed over me like clouds over the rainy Forks sky. 

As time went on, Embry warned me again. He even spoke to Paul about it, apparently. Paul had told me about it one night while we were talking just the two of us. We begun to hang out just the two of us, yet I never let him call it a date as per Embry’s warning. 

While he was at first surprised I wouldn’t go on a date with him, he was persistent because he knew how I felt. He knew the connection we had. He was upset that I always reciprocated the flirting, but was always far too hesitant to make any larger moves. 

“Embry, I haven’t seen any other girls since you brought her to hang out.” 

“I don’t know Paul... I don’t want (Y/N) to be the same as every other girl for you.”

“She’s not, she’s different. You know that. I really like her, I never felt this before. She won’t say yes unless you’re okay with it.” 

“Don’t make me regret this, Paul.” 

“You won’t.” 

Paul would hold my hand when I would get scared during horror movie night. He would pick me up for hangouts for the pure fact that he could drive me home, despite me being able to drive and having my own car. He would give me his hoodies when I would grow cold, whispering about how they looked better on me than him. Paul grew protective over me, always making sure that every adventure we took together, he would be there to make sure I stayed in one piece due to my clumsiness. Paul truly thought I was this fragile piece of glass that could shatter at any moment. 

 He would surprise me with my favorite drink from Starbucks when I was having a rough day at work. The way he would always have to touch me, whether that be resting an arm around my shoulder, holding my hand, or resting a hand on my thigh or lower back. All of the above sending my nerves in a frenzy. He was protective, slightly jealous. He didn’t like when guys checked me out, so he made it known I was his when he would press a kiss to my lips, then smirking at them, pulling me into him. 

 I loved the feeling of when he would pull me into his lap, his strong arms wrapping around me. The way he held me at night, like I was the only thing that mattered in the world-- it was a beautiful feeling. It was crazy to hear the stories of the hot-headed boy, because with me he wasn’t like that. He was patient, kind, and loving to no end. Did he have his moments where his temper would flare up? Of course. Everyone does, but I tried to help him get to where he wanted his temper to be. We worked on new ways to cope, we made a lot of progress for him. 

He was everything you could ask for in a guy, he was nothing Embry warned me about. Everyone noticed that Paul had softened immensely, he was calmed down. He was “whipped” according to the guys, which I didn’t stop him from kicking Jacob’s ass for that one. 

“Damn, Paul. (Y/N) trained you well.” Quil teases, only to be pulled into a headlock.

Our first kiss was sweet, it was gentle. Paul’s large hands held my face like he was holding the most fragile thing in the world. He treated me like a princess. 

“Wanna go get lunch before we hang out with everyone? I’m buying.” He offers. 

“Sure, but you’re not buying my lunch.” I giggle over the phone. 

“Why not? It’ll be a date.” He chimes. 

“I don’t know... What’s in it for me?” 

“Uh, going on a date with the hottest and sweetest guy in all of La Push.” 

“Oh, Jacob’s taking me on a date?” I tease, knowing that would drive him a little nuts. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He chuckles into the phone. 

“I just might be, when’re you picking me up, Lahote?” I giggle. 

“I’m actually outside already. Surprise.” 

So we went out to lunch, and it was really fun. It always was a fun time with Paul. Going to hang out with the guys was great, though something was off with Jared. He played it off, continuing to tease Paul and I. 

Embry grew to support Paul and I, though he told me he was my second pair of eyes. He was watching Paul like a hawk, hoping he wouldn’t break my fragile heart. 

But when Jared got sick with mono and stopped coming around, I had to be there for him. He was beyond hurt when he saw Jared hanging out with Sam Uley. Why would he up and leave the group? No explanation, nothing. Jared avoided all of us like the plague.

Paul was devastated. That was his best friend, how could Jared lie to him? How could he ditch him like it was nothing?

The issue was, is that Paul had a hard time expressing his emotions. Even though he was sad about the situation, he grew to be angry. He would huff and puff, pacing the room, yelling about how Jared was being an asshole and how he had no idea what to do. 

It was fine, really. You knew that he was going through the ringer and he still treated you like a princess. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t even realize how much I was yelling.” He would apologize, walking over to you sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to calm down after your attempts to do so were futile. 

“I understand, you’re going through a rough time right now. But I’m here for you.” I smile, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“I love you.” He presses his forehead against mine.

“I love you, too.” 

Chills ran up my spine, I had felt butterflies like never before. Paul gave me feelings I never knew existed.  

But soon, he grew feverish. His skin was burning hot and he grew testy. He snapped at everyone, and seemingly for the littlest of things. I thought it was strange, as this was a side of Paul I had never seen. We had to leave Jake’s one night, as he grew incredibly protective over me... almost animalistic. He almost lost it on Quil when he started play fighting with me, I just took him out of there, leaving the guys in the garage. I was met with concerned eyes all around, but I knew Paul wouldn’t hurt me... I just had no idea what had gotten into him. 

He held onto me like his life depended on it. 

“I’m scared, (Y/N).” He whispered into my neck. 

“Why Paul?” 

“Jared and Sam... they look like they’re waiting for me. I can’t stand it-- they’re hovering over me all the time. I can’t deal with it.” He huffs. 

His feverish skin almost burning mine, just as it had been the last few days. 

“I’m sorry Paul, maybe try to avoid them?” I offer up my advice, but it met with a mere sigh from his lips. 

“They keep telling me I have to break away from everyone. That I’ll have to leave the friend group, that I’ll have to leave you. They’re lucky I didn’t kick their asses.” He huffs. 

His words shocked me, they left me speechless. Why would they be saying that?

“Why would they say that?” 

“Hell if I knew. I just ran out of there before I punched someone. I know you don’t like when I hit people.” He chuckles.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” I smirk.

But I couldn’t shake his words, I didn’t understand why they wanted him? Why they wanted him to cut us all off? 

He soon fell asleep while I rubbed circles into his back, trying to soothe him once again. I heard my phone go off on the table next to me. 

It was Embry asking if I was okay, to which I told him yeah. He didn’t need to know the worries plaguing my brain. 

But the next few days, Paul got sicker. He started changing before my eyes, growing insanely fast. His body temperature continued to climb. He told me that Sam and Jared wouldn’t leave him alone, but he was only getting angrier at them and holding onto me tighter. 

“They keep saying they don’t want me to hurt you.” He would sigh, his face visibly distressed. 

And then told me that I couldn’t see him for a while. He cut off all the guys completely, and I hadn’t heard from him since; he wasn’t even answering my texts. 

Embry was worried sick about me, despite everyone being upset at Paul’s sudden change and departure from our lives. He would come and check up on me, absolutely stunned to see the shifting moods I had. 

One minute, I was fine and 110% certain that Paul wouldn’t up and leave with no warning, and the next I was a blubbering mess. Embry did his best to make sure that I wasn’t left alone for too long, as he was afraid I would become the next comatose Bella Swan. I mean, kudos to him for caring but that wouldn’t happen. Or maybe just yet, as the longer Paul was gone the less I seemed to care about anything else. It just felt like a part of me was gone, like the puzzle piece fitting my heart together was missing. 

So a few days later, I made some of his favorite soup and made my way over to his house. 

I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. It was locked so I couldn’t let myself in, but I knew where Paul’s bedroom window was. I peeked through and saw him peacefully sprawled out on his bed, the sight bringing both relief and a smile to my face. But then I heard some whooping noises from the back of his house, causing me to investigate. 

I look and see none other than the infamous Sam Uley and Jared Cameron, he looked very different since the last time I had saw him. It felt like forever ago since that night. 

“(Y/N), what’re you doing here?” Sam asks with a concerned tone. 

“I needed to see Paul.” I demand.

“Go home, (Y/N). He doesn’t want you to come around anymore, he doesn’t want to be with you anymore.” Jared looks deep into my eyes, his words punching me in the gut. 

His eyes were hard, as were his features, but I knew he was full of shit. But the words still hurt for just a second. For just a second.

“What the hell are you guys doing to him?” I look at them with eyes set to kill. 

“What? What did he tell you?” Jared asks, eyes widening with concern. 

“Calm down.” Sam urges, putting a hand out in front of Jared. 

“He won’t tell me anything anymore.” I hiss. “But before he stopped answering me he was so afraid of you guys! Always following him around, telling him what to do. Telling him to stay away before he hurts me! Paul would never hurt me, asshole!” 

I was fuming now, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop myself. Paul was a tough guy, nothing really broke him like their warnings and constant following did. The sudden changes he was experiencing, he had no idea of what to make of it as he was given no answers. 

“I watched him change in front of my very eyes, this is beyond some bullshit about him wanting to leave me, Jared. This is not normal.” I stomp my way over to them. 

“(Y/N), stay back.” Sam’s hand gestures up to me. “Jared, calm down.” 

“Sam, don’t. I’m done with this, I want my boyfriend back. Jared, what the hell got into you, too?” I raise my voice at him, causing him to flinch. 

“Hello? Earth to Jared Cameron? What’s your deal now, asshole?” I yell again, poking his bare chest. 

But that’s when rage took over Jared’s body. Something I had never seen before. Jared was always goofy, so nice. I had really only seen Paul so angry, and even then-- this was a different level. 

“(Y/N), move back now.” Sam yells. 

This time, I listened. I took some hesitant steps back, almost tripping over my own feet. 

Jared’s body was almost vibrating at this point, that’s how fast it was shaking. I just stared in awe, Sam’s voice was booming, though. 

“(Y/N), move back!” He yells again. 

I bring myself to take a few more steps back, but this time I did trip over my feet.

Jared suddenly moved like he was bursting out of his own skin, and in some way he did. Sam pushed him back to create some more distance, but overall in the end-- Jared turned into an enormous wolf. An enormous wolf that snarled at me, but overall didn’t do anything to hurt me. 

“What the hell?” I blink my eyes, before running towards Paul house. 

That’s when I see Paul running towards the situation. 

“Paul, run!” I say, trying to grab a hold onto him, but he gently, but very quickly, shook me off. 

He too, burst out of his own skin, turning into a giant wolf. 

“What?” I whisper to myself.

I watch as Paul jumps onto Jared, listening to their snarls and growling. I stared astonished, as Sam looks over at me with sympathetic eyes. 

After a few moments, Sam orders them to stop. And they did, they walked into the woods and came out with some jean shorts on. 

“Come here.” Sam says, helping me off the ground. 

“Is this... is this what was going on?” I breathe out.

“Yeah, you’re gonna learn a lot today.” He sighs, clearly unhappy about me knowing. 

“I’m sorry.” Jared exhales. “It’s hard to control your anger when this starts, and then I had to lie and everything. I’m just sorry.” He smiles softly. 

“All good, understood now.” I smirk. 

Though I was still uneasy. What did all this mean?

“Paul?” I merely whisper, looking up at his face. 

He had grown a lot, got even more muscular since I had last seen him. But he refused to meet my gaze. 

“Paul, please look at me.” I beg, reaching out to grab his forearm.

He hesitates, almost afraid to. 

“Paul if you think I’m afraid of you, I’m not. Please look at me.” My pleading voice almost cracking. 

I needed to see those deep brown eyes I had loved so much. The ones that brought me endless joy, endless love. But he wouldn’t budge. 

“That’s not what I’m afraid of right now.” He chuckles sadly. 

He was still looking over my head, refusing to meet my gaze.

 “You owe it to the both of you to figure it out, Paul.” Sam nods. 

“What? What’re you talking about.” I turn to Sam. 

But as I turn my head to look back at Paul, I finally caught his gaze. A small smile crept on his face, until our eyes met. 

That’s when his jaw fell slack, his face completely softened. It was like he was stuck in a daze of sorts. 

But what I felt was good. I felt like the world had stopped spinning, I felt like Sam and Jared were gone, it was only Paul and I. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as this overwhelmingly great feeling pressurized around my entire body. This was something far more intense than what Paul and I usually had felt, and even before I thought we had intense feelings. 

No, this was different. 

I had no idea how to even stand anymore, I felt like my knees were going to give out.

“Finally, some good news.” Jared huffs, grabbing both of us out of our trance. 

“Okay, please explain things.” I look back to Paul. 

“Okay.” He breathes a sigh of relief, before he pulls me into a rib crushing hug, spinning me around. 

I felt the air leave my lungs, this actually hurt. He sometimes accidentally hugged me too hard, but this was surreal. 

My breath hitched as I whimpered out and “ow” which caused Paul to quickly let go, profusely apologizing. 

“Sorry, I forget my own strength. Still not completely used to it.” 

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

“Okay, so let me get this straight. Vampires run rampant through Forks and the rest of the Olympic Peninsula? Right, so that’s what made you guys phase. And then you can’t be around people for a while because it’s an enormous secret that only the pack and their imprints can know. And Paul imprinted on me, but I still don’t know what that exactly means, but we can go over that. But then, you guys protect everyone from said vampires and destroy them. Now you’re super warm and strong and the rest of the group you expect to join soon? Because you all have it in your blood?” I ask, looking at Sam.

“Well, you seem to really listen. But yes, It’s likely that Quil and Jacob will, we don’t know so much about Embry but it’s possible. Has he been acting strange?” Sam raises an eyebrow. 

“He texted me about a fever earlier, but he’s been normal enough.” 

“Well, you suddenly disappearing might set him off.” Jared chuckles. 

“What? I can’t see him anymore?” 

“Not until he phases, any of them. The secret is important.” Sam looks at me with empathetic eyes, Paul’s hand immediately resting on my lower back. 

“I have to disappear out of my best friends’ lives? I don’t even phase!” 

“It doesn’t matter, it’s too much of a risk right now. Over time, we’ll see what happens.” 

My heart sank, how would they forgive me for disappearing indefinitely? For blowing them off? I was growing anxious at the thought. 

“They’ll forgive you when they understand, it just takes time.” Sam nods. 

“Okay.” I whisper. 

“Alright, Paul. Explain imprinting.” Jared smirks, looking over at us. 

“Right now?” Paul looks at Sam, but Sam only nods his head, signaling for him to begin explaining. 

“Paul? Just talk to me, we always talk about anything and everything.” I lay my hand on his comfortingly. 

He seemingly melted at my touch, just as always.

“Well, the thing is, it’s not our choice. And I want you to hear me out before you say anything, please.” 

“Of course.” I grew nervous at his words, but I knew that was nervous, too.

“Well, so it happens to some of us, not all of us get so ‘lucky,’ if you will. It happens when you see a certain person for the first time after you phase. When you look into their eyes, it’s just... it’s pure bliss. You just know, you know it’s your soulmate. But, that doesn’t mean romantic, it could be platonic. In reality, it’s up to them. But for us, you’d do anything, be anything for them. A friend, protector, a lover. We just... we need to be near them. I need to be near you, and I always did, even before all of this complicated shit. I was always protective, but I can’t imagine I’ll ease up, it’ll probably get worse so I’m sorry in advance, but overall, I want you to know that you hold the reigns.” He softly smiles, looking into my eyes with a pleading look.

“Oh, I see.” I murmur, looking down at my hand for a second, trying to process the situation. 

His face fell, and it looked like someone punched him in the gut, Jared and Sam grew a bit worried. 

“Wait, that wasn’t me rejecting you. I’m just... I’m thinking. It’s just a lot to take in. I love you, more than anything. I’m glad it was me and not someone else, I am. As long as you’re happy about that. But I just need to understand it. I feel a physical pull to you, so I feel it, too.” I smile softly, thinking about when he refused to look into my eyes. 

“I’m very happy that it was you.” He grabs onto my hand.

“So why didn’t you want to look into my eyes?” I mumble. 

“Because I didn’t want to bare the thought of it not happening with you, though I don’t think I could change anything about us, ever. Imprint or not, (Y/N), you’re stuck with me.” He chuckled. “But only if you want me.” 

“Of course I want you.” I nudge his shoulder. 

After that, it was just playing the waiting game, waiting for my best friends to phase, too. I was left with so many calls and texts I couldn’t answer. Embry showing up to my house, knocking to no avail. Leaving, sadness deep in his eyes. Though, he eventually became angry. I knew he was going to phase soon, I watched from afar how he was growing more hostile, and how he was changing physically. Soon, I’d have my best friend back. 

Paul was right, he grew more protective, more worried about my every move. It was clear to us all that he was more protective than Sam and Jared were over Emily and Kim. It was easier to understand everything with Kim and Emily being apart of this all, as they knew where I was coming from. 

But, it was the waiting game that was killing me. Thankfully, Paul was around to pick up the pieces after leaving my best friends behind, no notice given. He held me when I grew sad, feeling guilty for having to leave their lives. 

Paul was unwavering, loving me endlessly.  __________________________________ Word Count: 4796

[marshmallow-phd]

Scarlet Moon

Genre: Scarlet Heart Ryeo!AU, Time Travel!AU, Alternate History, Royalty!AU

Pairing: OC x EXO OT9

Summary:  This isn’t Gwen’s time. She was from the modern era, with technology and electricity. But during a solar eclipse, she’s transported back into a previous life in a time and place she does not know. Now, as the foreign daughter of a merchant living in a prince’s household, she must tread carefully, watch her back, and guard her heart. But with the princes locked in a battle over the throne, the chances of her making it out alive might disappear.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3

                                            ********

The paper sliced across the skin before any action could be taken to avoid it. A high pitched hiss followed by a short whine. The flap of skin that had been separated was being dyed red. 

Gwen stuck her index finger in her mouth to sooth the stinging. It helped a little bit. Still sucking on the appendage, Gwen stumbled over to the supply closet and opened the thin metal doors with the other hand. She kept this feat up as she opened the first aid kit and pushed around the different types of bandages, trying to decide which one to use. The cut was right on the tip, right where you never want it to be. It was hard to get a band aid on that kind of cut. Eventually, she found a smaller version of a standard design and ripped the paper covering opening. She wrapped the band aid around her index finger before heading for her desk. It was back to the files that had injured her in the first place. 

The pile was tall; by her standards, at least. Gwen had been dealing with it for the past hour. The dates on the files needed sorting, separating the ones could be sent to long-term storage. She almost gave out another whine, but she didn’t want the others to hear and start the relentless teasing. Her coworkers were quick and very witty. 

It was a friendly floor. Everyone joked and played around without the fear of feelings being hurt. If Gwen didn’t have to do the actual work that came with the office space, she wouldn’t mind staying here forever. But dealing with these files and demanding customers and meeting quotas was not what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. Not that Gwen knew exactly what it was that she did want to do. She’d tried a lot of things over the last few years in her slow going college years. Marketing, history, education - hell, she even took several makeup courses and skincare lessons that focused on natural resources. None of it stuck, none of it held her interest, though the information could be recalled if needed. 

“You alright there, Gwen?”

Drudging up from the bowels of her thoughts, Gwen looked up at Kimberly, who had stopped at her desk on the way back from the printer. 

“Yeah,” Gwen nodded with a sigh. “Just… ready for the week to be over.”

“Ain’t that the consensus,” Kimberly laughed. 

“How are the dogs?” Gwen was seizing the opportunity to distract herself from work. Kimberly owned two dogs with opposite personalities. One was the well-mannered older brother, the other was the skittish, hyper younger brother. She loved to talk about them and there was never a shortage of entertaining stories. 

Kimberly rolled her eyes. “Kurt is back to back to demanding his breakfast at five a.m. Oh, but Kent now does this thing where he walks backwards. Whenever he starts doing that, we’ll beep at him. You know, like the garbage trucks? Then he gets all shy and hides his head.”

Gwen couldn’t stop giggling at the thought. “Oh, the poor thing!”

“You’ll have to see it next time you come over.”

“I can’t wait.”

As Kimberly walked away, Gwen sighed. She didn’t get out too much and the humor that most of her socializing outside of work was with one of her coworkers wasn’t lost on her. Just another dart to throw at the board that was Gwen Sinclair. 

It wasn’t like her life was a complete disaster. Really, it could have been worse. She could imagine a thousand different scenarios that she could be living right now that were worse off then her current situation. Truthfully, if glanced at from the outside, Gwen’s life was simply... mediocre. She was blessed with tolerable roommates, an okay job that provided a nice paycheck for a twenty-three-year-old who had yet to finish college. But… the loneliness was killing her and overall, she was craving for something more. 

She was exhausted from obligation and responsibility. She wished to go back to the days where she read about adventure and intrigue and imagined some day living that out herself. After having those words in her hands, she felt empty in her reality. Somehow, each day felt even more draining. 

With the end of another workday, Gwen packed up the files that still needed to be sorted, locked up her cabinets and tugged on her coat as she waved goodbye to Kimberly and the others. A few other coworkers were chatting excitedly about the solar eclipse happening in a few minutes. Gwen, however, was annoyed. Annoyed at the fact that all anyone - online or in person - could talk about was the solar eclipse, as if it was the only one that had ever been seen in this generation. When one person mentioned the eclipse, it was fine. When it was every post and every comment and every conversation, it felt a little ridiculous. Gwen couldn’t care less about the event. Getting home was her current priority. But escaping wasn’t that easy. 

For the millionth time, Gwen rolled her eyes as she scrolled through the newsfeed, waiting for her car to warm up in the parking garage. The weather was cold and dreary, slowing down her progress on getting home. Puffs of steam escaped her lips in the below freezing temperature. Other employees hurried past the back of her car to get to their own tiny sanctuaries. An alert for a new email popped up at the top of the phone screen. From the quick scan of the notification, she saw that it was from her eastern history professor. He wanted to go over the latest paper from class. Oh, no. That was never a good sign. 

Gwen huffed, threw her car into reverse, and pulled out of the parking space. First the papercut, now this. 

Since all her classes were online, Gwen had the minor luxury to not be forced to talk to her professor face to face, which surely would have been humiliating. But it couldn’t be avoided completely. She’d email him back once she arrived home. Or maybe she’d put it off until tomorrow. Dealing with this was the last thing she wanted to do. Stress was already causing her skin to revert back to puberty, she didn’t need this as well. 

Her phone rang and she struggled to answer it while carefully winding down the levels of the garage. It was Jaynie, the favorite of the roommates.

“Hey, Janie, what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, I was just wondering if you were coming straight home today.”

Gwen smirked, knowing exactly where this was going. 

Over the past several months, a bit of an obsession had developed with Korean dramas. The shows the two of them consumed were different from the same old, boring American television and there were years worth of stories to choose from. Currently, they were in the middle of another romantic comedy. While Gwen loved the storyline and was in a constant state of swoon, as soon as the credits started rolling, she was reminded how pathetically uninteresting her life was. But those sixty plus minutes of pure escapism made it all worth the crash that came afterwards. 

Gwen tried to wait patiently in the line to leave the parking garage, but her frustration was getting the better of her. It was stop and go, stop and go, stop and go.

“I’m planning on it. That is, if people decide any day now to not drive idiotically.”

“Ugh, I had the same problem on my way home.” 

Curious. Both of them worked in the downtown area. “How did you get home so fast?” Gwen asked.

“I got off a little early today.”

“Lucky.” Her accounting job often led to flexible hours. Gwen was jealous of that level of freedom. 

The road was slick from the freezing rain. Weather like this brought out all the stupid drivers as if this wasn’t a yearly occurrence. She was careful to look both ways before exiting the garage and inching into the street. What she didn’t account for was the other emptying lot across the street. A large black SUV pulled out right at the same time, but went too fast, hitting the water that was slowly turning to ice on the asphalt. 

With no time to react, the SUV slammed into the side of Gwen’s compact car. Glass from the driver’s side window shattered and sprayed her face. Her phone flew out of her hand. The crunch of metal hit her ears before she could fully process what had happened. With the force of the collision, her forehead slammed against the steering wheel before the airbag deployed. The sound of screams echoed around her, but the words were unintelligible. Slumped over in her seat, a shadow creeped over the scene. Through the slits of her barely open eyes, Gwen watched as the sun disappeared behind the moon. Then all went black. 

                                           ********

The water was what brought her back. It filled her lungs and surrounded her on all sides. She flailed her limbs, desperate for traction that couldn’t be found. Her clothing weighed her down, the hems being pulled as if hands had gripped tight on them. She needed a miracle. And a miracle she got. Two hands held onto one of her wrists and pulled her to the surface. 

She gasped for air as her rescuer struggled to bring her to shore. The cloth that covered her felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds, making it nearly impossible to move. Water made its way up her throat, spilling over her lips. Her lungs were finally clear. They took in as much oxygen as they were allowed, burning with each brath. 

“Lady Gwen! Lady Gwen!”

A young girl blocked out the bright sun. She shook Gwen’s shoulders desperately. 

Gwen’s brain processed that the girl was not speaking English, but… she could understand her. The girl’s damp, dark hair was pulled into halves on either side of her face held in place by wide red straps. She looked at Gwen with deep concern, like a lifelong friend. But Gwen was sure she had never seen this girl before in her life. 

“My Lady, can you hear me?” she asked frantically.

“Who are you?” Gwen finally choked out. 

That made the girl pause in her panic. “What?”

Slowly regaining her strength, Gwen pushed herself up to her knees. As her eyesight cleared, she took in her surroundings. Gone were the tall metal and glass buildings, traffic lights, and speeding cars of her modern home. Now all that surrounded her were trees and a sandy beach of a large, calm lake. In the distance, wooden houses with curved rooftops, painted in bright reds and greens dotted the horizon. The heaviness that weighed her down was a dress made of too many layers and of no western fashion that she’d ever experienced before. 

Whispers bounced around the rocky shore. All the faces that were looking on with concern around were unfamiliar. Gwen grabbed the hair cascading down her back, but it was still the red she knew, darker from the dampness of being pulled out of the water but still her hair. 

“Where am I?” she asked in a quiet, gasping voice.

“My Lady, don’t you remember?” The girl panicked. “You’re in Songak. Goryeo.”

“Goryeo?” Gwen screeched. All the minor details she could summon up of the country came rushing to the forefront of her mind. It was information overload and her brain couldn’t handle it. Her lungs tried desperately to keep up, breathing in as much air as they could, but her throat was closing up from the panic. The landscape blurred and she fell to the ground.

                                          ********

She was in a bed this time when she regained consciousness. The room was cold and dimly lit with soft, orange candlelight. A man, Caucasian unlike the others, sat beside the bed on a stool, worry etched into every facet of his face.

“Gwen, sweet, are you all right?”

English. He was speaking English. But that was a footnote of comfort to the bigger problem. She still didn’t know what had happened to her or how she got here or who these people were that seemed to know her. The man, who was about in his mid-forties with salt and pepper hair, smiled down at her, though his eyes were confused. “Gwen, does it hurt anywhere? Can you tell me if you hit your head?”

Gwen took a moment, to calm down and to evaluate what she was feeling physically. Her head didn’t hurt, nor did any other part of her body. Wordlessly, she shook her head. The man seemed relieved. 

“Are you all right?” He asked again, a different meaning under the question this time. “Chae Ryung said you couldn’t remember her or that we were in Goryeo? Do you at least remember your papa?”

Gwen weighed the choices in her mind. There wasn’t a mirror around, but she started to wonder if she had taken the place of someone else. Someone who knew these strangers. She could say that she didn’t know any of them - the truth - but would they think her mad if she spilled too much? Perhaps she could say she remembered a few things. Like him, if he is this poor girl’s father. Why am I here? In this time? 

Choosing to comprise with herself, she gave the smallest of nods. “Papa.” Sitting up, she pulled him into a hug and there was something comforting about his embrace. This body remembered him, at least. 

“What happened?” she asked after she let go. 

“Chae Ryung said that you’d wandered off again and she found you, you’d been the water a long time.” The man, Papa, sucked in a breath, his eyes beginning to water. His genuine concern over her wellbeing made Gwen choke up as well. “The doctor said you stopped breathing. That could explain your lost memories.”

Good. The excuse was already in her hands. That should make it easy enough to play along while being forgiven for any missteps. But they shouldn’t be in Goryeo. That didn’t make any sense, historically. If anything, they might have been in Joseon – late Joseon. Was this some sort of alternate timeline? Or maybe she hit her head really hard in the car crash and this is really all a dream from the stress of her paper and too much K-drama. 

Yes. Too much K-drama.

That had to be the explanation. This was all a strange dream. Which meant, she could play along and not be afraid. She could ask questions and live out the day until she woke back up in her own time, most likely in a hospital with a bandage on her head and her mother fretting over her. 

She glanced around the room, taking in the architecture that she had only ever seen in pictures. In person, it was even more stunning and intricate. This wasn’t an ordinary citizen’s home. Interesting. What else could her brain come up with? “Why are we in Goryeo?”

“Your father’s a merchant, remember?” He spoke slowly. Each word was deliberate, giving Gwen time to process. Good filler for her mind. “I made a large fortune here and planned on taking you back home, but… your mother is buried here. We couldn’t leave her behind.”

A wave of emotion hit out of nowhere. Though her mother was alive and well, it didn’t stop a tear from escaping. “Mama.”

Papa wiped it away with a coarse finger. Gwen gasped back, surprised by the realness of the touch. Her dreams were never this intricate. The blanket strone across her lap scrunched in her fingers. It was cold and soft… and very real. 

She wasn't dreaming, was she?

Confused by her reaction, Papa paused for a moment before continuing his explanation. “The eighth prince is graciously letting us stay with him while we wait on the construction of our home to be complete.”

The eighth prince?

Panic grew tenfold. If this wasn’t a dream, then she was in very big trouble. If history told her one thing, it was that proximity to royalty was the most dangerous place to be. Gwen might possibly have been able to skate by if they were simply staying in some unknown village far from the capital, but they were in a prince’s home. Which meant they were in… Songak, the capital city, just like that girl – Chae Ryung – had said. Right under the King’s nose. Breathing became difficult again. Each one was shallow, barely letting in any oxygen. Gwen could feel her chest tighten and her vision blurred. 

“Gwen!” Papa jumped up and tried to keep her straight to give her lungs as much room as possible. He switched to Korean as he called out over his shoulder, “Someone, get the doctor! Now!” Shuffling sounds echoed off the floor on the other side of the sliding door and then faded away.

A minute later, breathing no better, two men and a woman rushed inside along with Chae Ryung. The older man stepped in front of Papa and took his place. He pushed Gwen’s shoulders gently until she was lying down. Two cold fingers against her wrist checked her pulse. The other, much younger man stepped up to Papa.

“What happened?”

Papa frowned. “It seems she’s lost some of her memories. I was explaining why we were here when suddenly she had trouble breathing.” He stopped, struggling with his own breath. “I’m sorry we’ve become a burden to you, Your Highness.” 

Gwen’s breathing was regaining strength and she was able to concentrate on the conversation. So that was the eighth prince. He was younger than she would have guessed, handsome even, if she had to focus on something other than her lack of breath. 

“Do not think such a thing,” the Eighth Prince replied. “Your presence has greatly improved the household. Lady Gwen will get better with time.”

Papa bowed, obviously grateful at the response. He turned to the woman. “Lady Hae, may I enquire after your own health?”

“Today is a better day,” she smiled, though her pale, drained complexion said otherwise. “Please, don’t worry about me. Keep your thoughts for your daughter.”

The doctor released Gwen’s wrist, satisfied with the improvement of her pulse and breathing. He stood up.

“It was a mild panic attack,” the doctor said calmly to Papa. “If it happens again, she should lie down and focus on her breathing. The incident at the lake seems to have taken a toll on her body. She simply needs rest. In time, her memories and her body will recover.”

Gwen didn’t agree with that statement fully. This body might get better in time, but there was no way memories that didn’t exist would ever return. One by one, the occupants left the room until it was only Gwen and Papa remaining behind. Silence hung in the air. After a moment, Papa sat down on the stool and took Gwen’s hand. 

“I was worried I had lost you,” he whispered. 

Gwen’s eyes fell down to the blanket covering her legs. Things were becoming clearer to her now. This was not a dream and she was no longer Gwen Sinclair from the twenty-first century. Something must have happened. She didn’t know what exactly had occurred or what would happen now, but she was here. And little did this man – known only to her as “Papa” – know that he had indeed lost his daughter. The face may be the same, but the Gwen inside was different. She would try her best to be good to him, at least until she found a way to get back to her own family. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

                                          ********

The next morning, the doctor, along with the Eighth Prince, came back to check on Gwen. The doctor commented that her pulse was stronger and that she seemed well on the road to full health. However, he still insisted on keeping her on bedrest.

Bored with these same walls and too curious about her temporary home, Gwen sat up. If she was going to be here for a while, she might as well get to know it. “I’m fine. Please, don’t make me stay in here all day. The sun and air is good for you, isn’t it?”

The sudden rebelliousness against the doctor’s suggestion did not seem to sit well with any of them. Gwen gave Papa a pleading look. A father couldn’t resist those eyes. He sighed, turning to the doctor. “Perhaps, a little exercise in walking around the grounds would be all right?”

The doctor looked reluctant, but he agreed. “But she shouldn’t overexert herself.”

“Chae Ryung will stay with her,” the Eighth prince ordered. “If you’ll please excuse me, I must meet with my brothers.” He bowed and left, followed by the doctor.

Having heard her name from the hallway, Chae Ryung shuffled quickly inside and over to Gwen, holding out her arms for the latter to balance on as she slid off of the bed. “Are you sure you want to go outside?”

Gwen nodded. “Yes. Perhaps seeing more of this place will help jog my memory.”

Chae Ryung tilted her head. “How can your memory jog?”

Gwen snorted, both at Chae Ryung’s confusion and at herself for the slip of the modern phrase. “Sorry, I just meant, maybe my memories will come back.”

“Oh.” The look on her face was enough to make Gwen laugh again. 

Gwen scolded herself internally. She had to be more careful with her words. Every step was one on thin ice. She couldn’t change who she was, not completely, but she would have to pull back. Chae Ryung, however, felt safe, like a shelter from the rain. With her, Gwen could find answers that might be dangerous to seek elsewhere. Straightening her shoulders, Gwen smiled broadly and took her newest friend’s hand. Chase Ryung grinned brightly at her and guided her out of the room.

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 6

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 6

Chapter Summary: More of a filler chapter, not much Henry, I’m sorry.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, pregnancy, poor self image, bad coping mechanisms, low self esteem.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5}

"I already told you, Faye! I don't want anything to do with this!"

"So because I want to keep my babies, you're leaving me? Is that what you're trying to tell me, David?"

"Yes! Shit, I knew you were dumb, but seriously!"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf too, whore? How do you even know I'm the one that knocked you up? You've slept with just about every guy in town!"

"Get the fuck out."

"Don't come crying to me later! You're nothing without me! No one is ever going to want you. Especially once you have kids. Who the hell wants used goods? Have fun living a life of regret!"

Faye jerked awake, her head spinning as she tried to catch her bearings. Did David really leave her just like that? Sure he wasn't the greatest, but he had never lashed out like that before. At least not where anyone else could witness it.

No. David's gone. He has been gone for almost four years now. New life. Starting over. It's all in the past now.

Have to get the baby up before the sitter comes. Work is coming up soon. Life goes on.

"Briar, what are you doing on the floor?" Faye chuckled, crouching down next to her daughter, curled up on her pillow by her bed.

"I'm a puppy." Briar yawned in explanation, holding her arms up to be lifted, promptly licking her mother's cheek as soon as she was up.

"Briar, we talked about licking people."

"I'm not Briar, I'm puppy."

"Ok then, puppy, no licking people. Now what do you want for breakfast?"

"Puppy food."

"Cereal it is."

Feed the toddler, quick shower, get dressed, throw her hair up away from her face, wait for the baby sitter, hugs and kisses goodbye, then off to work. The usual routine she had settled herself into.

Feed the baby, because she's hungry and she comes first.

Shower, because she probably has some sort of mystery goo on her from the toddler.

Get dressed, avoid the mirror.  No one wants to be reminded of how much they've changed. The softness she wasn't used to around her lower stomach, hips and thighs. Her breasts no longer as perky as they used to be. The stretchmarks competing with her tattoo's for attention.

Then, the hardest part of the day. "Ok, Briar, Mrs. Anderson is here. Mommy has to go to work. I love you."

"I love you too, Mommy." Briar responded, hugging her mother tight and kissing her cheek before she was sat back down.

"Have a nice day, Miss Warren."

"I hope she's not too much to handle."

"Never is."

Some days, Faye likes to pretend she's ok. Like she has a handle on things. Like she knows what she's doing and not just blindly stumbling through her life while trying to do right by her daughter.

Other days, she would absently push her sleeves up and her eye would catch on the black lines decorating her forearm, just below her elbow. Some days she's reminded that life is a bitch, and you can't always get what you want. On those days she tried to stay out of her own head, though that rarely worked.

She could slap on a smile with the best of them, but she could never force it to reach her eyes. Her face always remained an open book, free for anyone to read. The past creeps up on you. There's nothing you can do to stop it some days. On a bad day, the ghosts of the past will haunt your mind, echoing the worst days of your life into the void of your shattered heart.

"No one is ever going to want you!"

"You're nothing without me!"

"Who wants used goods?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Warren. There was nothing we could do."

Over and over on a seemingly never ending loop, reminding her of the darkest times in her life.

Why would anyone want her? She's not the same hot twenty six year old she used to be. She was soft. She was saggy. She would never be as attractive as she used to be. Anyone in their right mind would turn around and run once they realized how much she had let herself go.

Days like today were best spent keeping people at a distance. Tell them some story about being tired. Avoid anyone that is going to call her out on her obvious lie. Therein lies the problem with dying your hair obnoxious colors. Among a sea of blonde and brunette, powder blue tends to stick out and make it almost impossible to vanish.

Lie your way out of it. Survive another day. Tomorrow might not be better, but at least it won't be the same.

"Mommy, you're back!" The sweetest sound she could hear all day.

"I always come back, my little love." Faye assured, kissing her daughter's head.

Need to care for the baby. She comes first. She deserves the world. Play time. Dinner time. Bath time. Story time. Bed time. The same after work routine she had established months ago when she decided to drop everything and run.

Her daughter thought the world of her. She would do anything to see her smile. She would wear the stupid costume. She would pretend to be a horsey. She would let her daughter use her as a jungle gym. She would make the same dinner again for the third night in a row for her.  So what if she soaked the bathroom floor during bath time? She was a mermaid, and she wanted to show off her tail. Story time, always an adventure with her imaginative little girl. What world would they find themselves in today? Dinosaurs? Princesses? Mythology? A rhyming book?

Ah, yes of course. Her current favorite, the book about the dinosaur cleaning his room. She was a girl obsessed with dinosaurs at the moment.

"Mommy, where's my Papa?" Briar asked, staring intently down at the page depicting a mother and father watching the dinosaur throw away paper scraps.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart. He wasn't a nice man." Faye explained, resting her cheek on her daughter's head.

"Can I have a new Papa?"

"Maybe someday, sweetheart."

"Can Spider-man be my new Papa?"

"Why do you want Spider-man to be your new Papa?"

"He's my boyfriend!"

"That's not how it works, silly. If he's your boyfriend, he can't also be by boyfriend! Pick another hero!"

"Batman!"

"Well, he is rich." Faye mused, Briar giggling happily. "Now it's time for bed, my love."

"Ok, Mommy. I love you!"

"I love you too, Briar." Faye whispered, kissing her forehead. The nightlight was switched on and the door was left cracked open, just in case. Now for her seldom used free time.

Should she sketch some more? Finish that painting she started forever ago? Ever since she started a "real" job, her art had fallen by the wayside. She was too drained to do much after work and caring of her daughter.

Maybe some drawing will lift her spirits and keep the nightmares at bay tonight. But what to draw? Not in the mood for still life. Brain too fried for something straight from her imagination. Her usual model was sleeping, and her last few self portraits had been a serious blow to her ego. She just drew what she saw in the mirror. Then, when she was finished, she decided she should have worn more clothing before she drew herself. What was supposed to boost her confidence and empower her as a woman instead left her wondering when exactly she developed that roll when sitting in that position.

"Fuck it. I'm drawing a moose." Faye grumbled to herself, turning the page from her self portrait to a blank sheet. Half an hour later when she was trying to remember what a moose's antlers looked like, she finally picked up her phone. Seven unread messages? That seems like a lot. When was the last time she looked at her phone? Oh yeah, when she got home, five hours ago.

All from one person. So she wasn't ignoring everyone at least. Seven messages, all from Henry. Shit. That's not good.

Are you ok?

You seemed off on set today

You didn't even talk to me

Did you at least make it home alright?

Can you send me a sign of life?

I'm sorry if I upset you or something. Can you please talk to me? I'm genuinely worried.

Please?

Well, fuck. Here she was playing unicorn apocalypse with her daughter, and this poor guy was worrying himself to death.

Sorry, I was drawing a moose

Perfect way of saying "I wasn't ignoring you" while also avoiding his persistent questions about her wellbeing. The good old 'drawing a moose' excuse. Works every time.

I think your moose aged me by ten years. Are you ok?

Just had a bad day

Anything I can do to help?

Squeeze me until I stop struggling and my spine snaps

That's called 'murder' Miss Warren

I knew there was a name for it

Is there anything I can do for you that involves less prison?

Nah, if you're not going to take me out, then I'm not interested

I'm not going to take you out by murder. I will take you out on a date.

Faye froze, staring at her phone. He was just playing around, like he always did. No way he was serious. Henry liked to flirt, and she wasn't about to throw herself at him over a joke. She had more dignity than that. So how does she respond? She can't just ignore him, and taking forever to respond is going to give the impression that she was freaking out over what he said.

She was completely freaking out over what he had said, but he didn't need to know that. Was he just looking to get laid or something? Probably. He had gotten pretty close the last time he had been over. There's a difference between dating and screwing, though. He was probably just looking for someone to fuck while waiting for a woman worth his time to come along. Faye was broken out of her thoughts by her phone going off again, alerting her to a new message. Didn't he know she was busy having an existential crisis?

If you're free on Sunday you can come over and show me that moose your working on

*you're

Smart ass

Sunday?

I'll have to see if Mrs. Anderson can watch Briar

Bring her along. She keeps asking me about Kal

Pretty on brand for her

Sunday?

Sunday.

Sunday. What to wear on Sunday? He was probably looking for a little something something for his time, so something slutty? She got rid of all her slutty clothes after she had Briar in a fit of self hatred toward her new mom bod, so that was out. Besides, he wouldn't have invited Briar over too if he was looking to get laid.

So what does one wear on a casual 'date' these days? She had until Sunday to figure that out.

Tag List:  @Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

[evielallemxnt]

"There are T W O types of secrets: those we hide from others ─ and those we hide from OURSELVES."

have you seen GENEVIEVE 'EVIE' LALLEMENT strolling around central park at lunchtime? rumor has it they’re actually A HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIVE years old, but i’m pretty sure they’re only TWENTY. they’re currently posing as a PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR at LALLEMENT LAW, but when dusk falls, you can usually find them heading home to MANHATTAN by TOWN CAR. apparently they DID attend the met gala this season! @duskintro

* / CHARACTER INFLUENCES: Jake Peralta ( Brooklyn 99 ) + Veronica Mars ( Veronica Mars ) + Nancy Drew ( Nancy Drew ) + Claudia ( Interview With The Vampire ) + Rebekah Mikaelson ( The Originals )

* / ANTHEMS: PRETTY SAVAGE | YOU MADE A MONSTER | 7 RINGS

*** PENNED BY BRI FOR DUSKFELLHQ ***

FULL NAME: GENEVIEVE "EVIE" LALLEMENT

FACECLAIM: Savannah Lee Smith

AGE: 20 ( estimated @ time of changing ) physically | 135 mentally

SEXUALITY: Lesbian

PRONOUNS: She/her

POSITIVE: Intelligent, charming, loyal, brave.

NEUTRAL: Spontaneous, trustworthy, daring, cocky

NEGATIVE: Impulsive, self-destructive, snide, and Machiavellian.

ELEMENT: Fire.

MBTI TYPE: ENFJ.

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic neutral.

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin

AESTHETIC: Breakfast at Tiffany's, fine tailoring, diamonds and pearls and rubies, late-night bubble baths with red sangria, Chanel No.5, bubbly stocked fridge, penthouse parties, drinks @ The Blond, exclusive social club, wigs and disguises, sly smiles, bad decisions, midnight sleuthing, gossiping until dawn, closets filled with Birkins, eyes that hold secrets, smudged lip gloss, devilish temptations

TW: Death, dying, blood

* / BIOGRAPHY: The history of Genevieve Lallement is a tricky one. If you ask her, she became a creature of the night in some whirlwind fashioned tale filled with love, betrayal, and sacrifice -- all the makings of a heart-clenching closed shut story. But the reality? That's much more of a mystery.

Her genesis is one filled with darkness. No memories. No family. No nothing. The only solace coming in the form of her sire -- Cassius. He saved her from a fever that took many in late 19th century England and told her as much as he knew. That he had found her bedridden and sickly in a run-down isolation ward where patients were sent to die more than to be cured. Apparently, she had reminded him of a sister he’d once lost and he acted on an inner impulse to save an innocent. The staff had told him that she had admitted herself under what they proved to be an alias, so there was no way to notify family or even prove she existed.

She was a ghost. Alone in the world. And dying.

So, he gave her new life. Eternal life.

When she’d awakened from the transition, the ripe young vampire found herself unable to remember, well... anything. It was as if the transformation erased everything human about her, wiped her slate clean as she re-entered the world as someone else. Something else. Cassius said that vampirism isn’t a perfected process. There are some ailments that the immortal blood which now ran through her veins can’t heal. By the time he’d found her, her mind had already been overcome with the sickness that was moments away from snuffing her out completely. To drag her back from the depths of near-death, she had to lose some parts of herself along the way. There were some upsides, though. She clung to Cassius like a newborn, and he grew to coddle her as if she were his own. Being inducted into the Lallement family allowed her to see a world that was previously unattainable as a mortal having had come from the dregs of England. He’d brought her to New York at the turn of the century, and it was a sight to behold as she realized…this was HOME.

As the decades passed, the new Lallement glided through life. The adjustment to vampirism wasn’t as hard as it probably was for others. Sure, she had her hiccups, but it was almost as if the lack of memories helped. There was no other way of living for her to remember or to acclimate from. In some ways, there was no true loss. Her new family filled the voids ( even helped her pick out a new name ‘GENEVIEVE” ) showered her with endless love ─ and the bloodlust helped pick up the slack. For a while. As an immortal, it is easy to become distracted by the power, privilege, and play that is now bestowed upon you. But eventually, the semblance of loneliness and eternity creep in. For Evie, it was plaguing thoughts of the unknown that haunted her. Did she have a family when Cas took her away? Did they look for her? Mourn her? Soon all she could think of was the possibility that they somehow survived the plague and managed to continue on. This led her to try to trace their footsteps back to the town Cassius found her in to look for anything, any semblance of a clue that pointed to her previous human existence. Only for Evie to be faced with the harsh reality that the one hospital in town, the very town she’d believed herself to have been raised in, had burned down not long after they’d fled. Along with the patient records. Any possibility of tracing back her roots had been destroyed in a reckless accident and something in Evie c r a c k ed. Never again to be fully healed.

But if anything, she’s a survivor. Evie turned her sadness into something productive, going on to study criminology and criminal justice in the ’70s and '80s, along with a myriad of other majors she probably got too distracted to finish. Evie figured, if she couldn’t figure out the mystery of her own life, then the least she could do is help others figure out the mysteries in theirs. Becoming a private investigator sort of just happened, but it soon became her life’s joy. Piecing things together, going on recon missions, and doling out the truth was something that Evie not only excelled at but truly found fulfilling. At least ─ during the day. When the sun goes down, she resorts back to her party-girl ways, needing to find some sort of entertainment as a method to keep herself distracted. Because, you see, the only thing Evie hates most in the world is being by her lonesome. It leaves time for that inner sadness and loss to come creeping back in, to remind her that there’s nothing in the world to truly call her own. That the Lallement name is a placeholder for the truth. And that’s the one truth she cannot face.

So, she parties, boozes, pushes the limit because she has none, and there is always a need for M O R E. Because boredom is never on the menu. And when the town car arrives eventually to take her back to Manhattan, merely a few hours before she must be up for work, Evie revels in the few minutes of silence and thinks ─

‘Another day down. Only an eternity to go.’

* / PERSONALITY: Evie is, more than anything, fun. She likes to have a good time and to look good while doing it. Sure, her deviousness occasionally gets her into more trouble than intended, and in some ways, her childlike need to be paid attention to can be exhausting to people, but she is not all play. Evie truly enjoys being an investigator and will isolate herself for days, weeks even, if that means cracking a case. Her job and lifestyle have been carefully cultivated to always keep her busy so the facade can stick. No one knows about her growing concerns with the idea of unlimited time or the feeling of wanting a connection with someone -- anyone. Evie doesn't really give into supernatural politics or bias, and her ruthless side only comes out when hangry or when you threaten someone she loves. Then it's all-out chaos.

* / FUN FACTS:

She's gone to college several times and has studied many things but only holds a degree in Criminology and Interior Design

Currently paying a witch to figure out a way for vampires to get tattoos

Obsessed with all things horror and true crime

Officially identified as a lesbian in the late '60s

Has two poodles named Khaleesi and Drogon

Manhattan PD knows her by name

* / WANTED CONNECTIONS:

SCOOBY GANG/HARDY BOYS/7 RINGS - These are her people, her confidantes, her ride or dies. Can be supernatural or human, mortal or immortal. Whether they met decades ago or the night before, tipsy, in the Cosmopolitan bathrooms, they instantly clicked and have been loyal to each other ever since.

ROOMMATE(S) - Evie lives in one of the many ritzy buildings Manhattan has to offer. While having an entire floor to yourself has its benefits, it can feel quite isolating. So, the vampire opened up her doors to allow in some roommates -- free of charge!

ASSISTANT - As a private investigator, sometimes certain cases can become quite tedious. While her work rarely ventures away from mild cases Cassius needs help with, Evie does also take cases from anyone who needs help. Keeping everything organized, going with her on recon, and even offering their own input and theories is what they provide for her.

PLAYTHING - Now Evie isn't evil, she doesn't play with people's emotions ( at least not intentionally ) but she does indulge in the power and influence that comes with vampirism. Not only would this person be someone to go to for the occasional midnight snack ( where they're the snack sowz ), Evie would also indulge in their life. Making sure they're well taken care of, listening to the things they're going through, and being there for them whenever they need her.

FOES/ENEMIES - When you live forever you might make an enemy or three. Evie has ruffled a few feathers over the past century, that's for sure, and she has no problem continually poking the bear if she finds herself bored enough to do so.

also: literally anything else pls plot with me i'll send you kit kats and a coupon for a free taco.

[contradictions-of-iron-and-lace]

So on my old blog, I would occasionally give my unsolicited thoughts and opinions on shows or movies (usually ones that either had a lot of hype or were just straight up bad). I just watched "365 Dni" aka "365 Days" because I had a couple hours to kill so be prepared for mental spewage because it's my blog and I do what I want.

Wait I thought this was a romantic thriller. They're talking about human trafficking. This is already gross.

Michele Morrone is very good looking though and I've been obsessed with his face for the last few weeks.

This whole conversation about these girls getting trafficked is gross.

Yes. Let's be extra pervy during a pervy business meeting and check out the girl on the beach with our binoculars.

Hold up. Why did they get shot?

I don't know what's going on. Freaking Italian mob, man.

This song about being addicted to someone that's playing while people are bleeding out on the ground seems tonally inappropriate.

So far we've seen Italy, San Francisco, and Warsaw. I didn't know we were globetrotting.

And we switched from Italian to Polish to English. Sure.

Yeah. Michele Morrone could get it. Also he survived being shot.

Is that the same girl from the beach? Probably. Why not.

They do a lot of spinning shots and it's making me dizzy.

So far this is a very expensive foreign Lifetime movie.

Yes. Because everyone takes boob shots in the back of their Uber while sober.

Homegirl's boyfriend looks like they picked him out of a burly henchman catalogue.

Yup. Michele Morrone is stupid hot. Even just sitting down he's hot.

Oh good. We've transitioned from potential human trafficking to cocaine.

Well damn. This is fairly explicit for a "mainstream" film.

Cool. I share a name with the female lead.

Still don't know the male lead's name yet.

Everybody in this movie is either stupid hot or stupid ugly. There is no middle ground.

Yes, Michele. Creeping up on this girl on a darkly lit path saying "Are you lost, little girl?" is definitely going to win you all the points.

I don't understand why writers insist on putting powerful women with schlubby dudes. It's tired and cliched and inevitably leads to annoying arguments.

Yes. Let's wander around Sicily at night all alone. That's totally safe.

And my point is proven.

I hope if I ever get kidnapped and holed up in some random ass castle in Sicily my makeup looks as good as Laura's.

So this just turned into a horror movie.

Called it about Laura being the girl on the beach.

Yeah, that's not creepy at all, dude. Let's obsess over a girl we might have hallucinated for five years and then kidnap her and give her a year to fall in love with you. Solid plan.

This is literally making my skin crawl.

Ah yes. "I won't do anything without your permission" he says as he literally grabs and sexually assaults her.

So basically this is trying to be "erotic thriller, Beauty and the Beast style".

Her pulling a gun on him has been the best thing so far.

I'm so confuuuuuused.

That's nothing new though. I live in a state of perpetual confusion.

Why the hell is there a man chained to a rock in this dude's basement.

I have many concerns.

Also his name is Massimo so that's good to know.

Besides the man chained in his basement his house is pretty cool.

Just kidding the man is no longer chained in the basement since he now has a bullet in his head.

I'm only 30 minutes in and this has been a wild ride.

"I'm not a bag of potatoes you can move without my permission!" is very Polish and as somebody who's family is Polish I'm living for it.

I'm going to need him to stop laying hands on her.

Whoever chose the music made some odd choices.

He keeps watching her sleep and it's creepy.

And there he goes grabbing her again.

I do like that she's giving him a lot of attitude and isn't putting up with his shit but you know that's going to change 🙄

Yes. Go spend all his money, honey.

He is disrespectful as hell.

I don't care how hot he is, he's creepy and abusive and I don't like it.

"I am not the monster you think I am." You would be incorrect, my dude.

Like, she went on vacation with her boyfriend and friends, and I can't for the life of me figure out why they aren't looking for her unless they explained it and I missed it.

Pierogi. The most romantic of Polish foods.

"I do business." He's a drug trafficker, honey. Run away. Run far, far away.

Honestly I would turn this off if I wasn't so far in it already.

I feel like I have to see this trainwreck through to the end.

"I would like you to show me how to be gentle for you" would be more appealing if HE LITERALLY HAD NOT KIDNAPPED, ABUSED, AND ASSAULTED HER.

Ew. Did he sneak in her bed while she slept?

One good dinner and now she's all "let's gently touch him in bed and take a shower in front of him" 🙄

Why is this bathroom set up like a communal shower? It's weird.

Although to be fair if he hopped in the shower with me I'd check him out too 🤷

They tied her to the seat in the plane. What the hell.

I'm so uncomfortable.

Ugh. Why. Why is this a thing.

So far this has been creepier than 50 Shades and 50 Shades is creepy as hell.

Hold on. I thought they were at a hotel. Why does he have a giant ass portrait of himself hanging up in his room?

I. Am. Uncomfortable.

Oh man. He has a nice butt.

Don't get distracted by the pretty man, Laura.

Onscreen Laura too.

He asked her to teach him how to be gentle, then handcuffs her to the bed and makes her watch while he hooks up with another woman.

Yup. Doing a great job there, Massimo.

Cool I'm back to being confused.

She can't walk in her heels and I'm dying laughing. Same, girl, same.

"What are you wearing?" "A couple thousand euro of yours." GET HIM.

Now we've entered the Scarface phase of the movie because there was just a copious amount of cocaine snorted.

Where did he pull two guns from??

So I don't know how long she's been with him at this point. I feel like that's something that needs to be clarified.

And she fell off the boat.

Of course she did.

Oh man. Why's he gotta be so cute with his fluffy curls and stubble and tattoos?

Also I'm pretty sure he only owns like two shirts because he's walked around shirtless for most of this movie.

We are now in the part of the movie where we've screamed awful things at each other and now we're going to bone it out.

All over the boat. Like every surface of the boat they have now banged on.

If y'all were dissatisfied with the raunchiness of the 50 Shades series, this is the movie for you because it far surpasses that.

Of course they're going to a ball. They always do in these rich people movies.

Makeover montage because why not.

Oh no. He's hot in a tux.

It always cracks me up in movies when people just automatically know how to ballroom dance like professionals without any training.

Every time I think this movie can't get more cliched, it does.

Why do I do this to myself? Why do I subject myself to bad movies?

I take it back. I know why I did it this time. The reason is 6'2" and looks damn good in a button up shirt.

"I thought you were kidnapped!" She was. You were a good friend for thinking that.

The switching between languages is giving me whiplash. It's very jarring going from Italian to Polish to English to Polish to Italian.

Her friend seeing through her bullshit is giving me life.

Also loving the fact that she's acknowledging she has Stockholm Syndrome. But because it's a movie it won't change anything.

Another makeover montage? So soon?

Also her friend keeps calling Massimo Mozzarella and it's hilarious.

That wig looks like it's about to crawl off her head.

Of course the ex shows up.

Honestly just knee him in the nuts and be done with it.

Why does Massimo think it's okay to break into her apartment and wait in the dark for her?

I don't know who thought using a blue light for her apartment was a good idea but it just looks like they're in a giant tanning booth.

"I don't need 365 days... Because I love you." GIRL NO.

I mean it was inevitable but it's still gross.

Yup. That's normal. Let's marry our kidnapper.

I want to snatch that wig off her head.

"What are your intentions with our daughter?" You don't want to know what his intentions are with your daughter, sir.

I will say that I love all her clothes in this movie.

Also she's pregnant. Calling it right now.

Called it.

Also good to know they've only known each other two months and they're going to get married and have a baby 👀

Her best friend is my favorite character and is the only likeable person in this whole movie.

Plot twist. Shocker.

This is so dramatic.

I will give them credit for the ending because that was unexpected.

In summary, this movie is trash and while the "love" scenes are pretty hot, it's not worth the time or effort that I clearly put into this.

[lonelymiraculer]

A Cat’s Obsession

Prologue

———————-

Flames.

Sirens.

Cries for help.

~

That's all Marinette Dupain-Cheng can remember when she thinks of the world-shattering day when her parents were killed in a fire. To this day, no one knows if it was an accident or on purpose.

She often has nightmares of her parents, telling her that she could have saved them if she just tried, and that she had just let them down.

Waking up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and tears, wishing that her life could just go back to how it used to be.

Outside of her small apartment, the former baker's daughter shuts down, leaving an indifferent mask that hides the broken girl underneath, just wanting to be loved again.

~

That is, until a boy named Luka Couffaine showed up. He was a tall young man, with dark hair that he had dyed blue at the tips, and had a very punk-rock style of clothing, reminiscent of the styles of the 70's and 80's.

Marinette first met the boy on her first day of her junior year at her high school, Francoise Dupont High School.

She had arrived perfectly on time, as usual, and ignored her long-time bullies, Adrien Agreste, Chloe Bourgeois, and Lila Rossi, as they snickered at her. Marinette had taken her seat just as the bell rang, and their teacher, Mme. Bustier, walked in, greeting the students.

"Good morning everyone. Please get out your daily schedule and copy what's on the board. But before you do that, a new student has transferred into his class. Please treat him with kindness and respect."

A tall, somewhat lanky male walked into the room, waving unenthusiastically. He quickly introduced himself, adding as a fun fact that he liked to play the guitar. He did a quick glance around the room, taking in the dull surroundings.

When the boy started walking towards the empty seat next to Marinette, she inwardly groaned. She thought that she was going to have to deal with one of those talkative musicians who just wouldn't shut up about their music.

Oh, how wrong she was. Right off the bat, Luka made no effort to converse, seemingly preferring to quietly do his work, which she greatly appreciated. It wasn't every day that she got to have a seatmate, never mind a quiet one.

Finally, at the end of class, Luka glanced at Marinette and stuck out his hand towards her. She didn't even have to fake her surprise, expecting him to either immediately start trying to chat her up or ignore her completely with her when class ended. Not...whatever this was.

"Luka."

"Uh—M-Marinette."

~

That was where it all started. From then on, they would eat lunch together, both of them slowly opening up towards one another.

Marinette would occasionally show him a smile, appreciating his presence, while Luka would sometimes show his true joking personality, making Marinette giggle at the friendly jabs he made at her sometimes.

Slowly but surely, over the course of two months, the two began to fall for each other. As two very forward people, they immediately told each other about their growing feelings. And after a very awkward confession scene, the two began dating. Marinette definitely had become more social again, but even to this day, Marinette would rarely smile at anyone other than her beloved Luka.

~

Too immersed in their love, they didn't notice a pair of poisonous green eyes glaring at the both of them, the cloudiness of jealousy growing in them each and every day. Those were the eyes of Adrien Agreste, famous model, and resident Parisian supervillain, Chat Noir.

Oh, how their love made him sick. He had been desperately in love with Marinette ever since he had laid eyes on her, in their freshman year. And just because he bullied her for 3 years straight didn't give Luka the right to just swoop in and steal Marinette from him!

So he bullied the girl harder, throwing insults at her whenever he saw her. He hoped this would make her dump Luka and come running to him, but no. It just pushed them closer together. And now, whenever Marinette looked at him, her eyes were always filled with hatred. Just what could he do to win her heart from that slimy snake?

Then, he got an idea. Instead of trying to win her heart, he would just steal it, whether she liked it or not. As Adrien and Chat Noir. He started by placing hidden cameras inside of her room, while she was out doing things. It was a necessary precaution, in order to keep an eye on her at all times.

He then created a sort of shrine for Marinette, putting all sorts of things that he stole from her into a corner of his room. Pictures, empty wrappers, clothing, anything that she touched. He wasn't a creep! He was just so utterly infatuated with Marinette Dupain Cheng.

He'd do anything to have her.

Anything.

Isn't love just wonderful?

————————

Also can be found on Wattpad! Thanks for reading.

[kellerose]

Holistic Analysis of ‘Volver’ by Pedro Almodovar

tw// mentions of child abuse, pedophilia, death, blood, and sharp objects

Conduct a holistic of the film Volver by Pedro Almodovar. Be sure to integrate terminologies and concepts from course discussions on both photography and film in your analysis. Cite all borrowed materials.

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‘Volver’ by Pedro Almodovar is a 2006 Spanish film set in Madrid, Spain as well as a small village in the La Mancha Region. Upon further research, it’s noted that La Mancha is where Almodovar grew up, which indicates that this film highlights the essence of his childhood.  

‘Volver’, which is Spanish for ‘to come back,’ beautifully captures the importance of women’s lives and what comes of life after death. The film is compacted with stunning architecture, camera angles, color, music and sounds, and visual images that all fit into the film’s overall message. 

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Composition: I have noticed throughout the film that Almodovar chose interesting and compelling camera angles for different situations. When people walk through big doors-- mostly with the windy village in La Mancha-- the camera would be at a one-point perspective. The center of the door would be the ‘vanishing point’ of the frame so that you’ll see the rest of the hallway that the characters will soon walk down. When Almodovar films the characters going up a flight of spiral staircases, he puts the camera on the ground facing upwards in the center to show the movement of the characters. When his characters are going down the set of stairs, he changes the angle so that the camera is at the top facing downwards. When characters are walking down or off onto the street, the camera tends to follow their movement in a single shot; either in front of the characters for more intense scenes and dialogue or on the side of the characters in a distance shot to move along the plot. I also noticed his choice of car scenes. He would usually show the red car driving down a dirt road of wind turbines in a distance shot. If there were people in the back seat, the camera would shoot from the front of the car, and if it’s only one person or two they would shoot their side profiles. I also noticed that certain frames had significance to the plot as an angle would be used for multiple shots; one with Raimunda cleaning the knife before and after the murder of Paco, and when Raimunda was standing by the tree by the river after burying Paco then later that same angle was used when Raimunda and Paula visited the same spot. 

Visual Cues:

Color- The main color of the film-- as well as any Almodovar film-- is red. The color symbolizes death as well as womanhood-- the passion, empowerment, and life that goes with women. The film was full of bright colors, which is a usual touch that the director loves to add to all of his films. Almodovar chooses his color precisely by the setting, as he stated in his interview with Jennifer Merin about the film. He chose to use a lot of black and white because of the location and social environment of La Mancha. Those colors, he says, aren’t ones he typically uses but were the best choice for those certain parts of the film.  

Gestalt Laws: 

Proximity- The closeness between Raimunda and Paula throughout the entirety of the film shows that the two are related in some way. The fact that the two characters are inseparable and are seen living together, an individual can assume that they’re mother and daughter. Paco getting constantly pushed away and being distant from the characters symbolizes the dysfunctional relationship he had with Raimunda and Paula. When Sole ran away screaming from Irene upon first meeting her, one can assume that the relationship is unwanted by the forcible distance. However, we see about 20 minutes later, Sole allows Irene into her home and ends up sleeping next to her in the night. The sudden closeness indicates the love and comfortableness between a parent and child. 

Common fate- The people of Madrid and La Mancha always kissed each other’s cheeks as a form of greeting. Raimunda and Irene both had their partners murdered for doing something taboo. Irene’s husband was having an affair and sexually abused and impregnated their daughter Raimunda. Raimunda’s partner, Paco, was stabbed by her daughter Paula for sexually assaulting her. Another common fate is that Raimunda and Paula were both sexually assaulted by their fathers/father figures. 

Semiotic Signs and codes: 

Indexical Sign- The abundance of people are dressed in minimal amounts of clothing which indicates that the weather must be quite warm. When the characters are in the La Mancha village, the character’s clothes and hair move rapidly indicating that the area has harsh winds.  

Symbolic Sign- The use of red in the women’s clothing, on and in buildings, on the furniture, vehicles, and close-ups on vegetables and blood certainly doesn’t go unnoticed. However, an individual who notices may not understand its significance. Therefore, the color red is an example of a symbolic sign in this film. It emphasizes the meaning of life after death and the importance of womanhood. Another example of a symbolic sign is the song sung by Raimunda within the film. The title of the music is the same as the movie’s title, ‘Volver’. The song is about the need for one’s life to come back, especially a mother’s, in order to move forward in life, which is an addition to the film’s message. One final example is at the very beginning of the film. The women of the La Mancha village are seen cleaning off the gravestones in the local cemetery. The way the women talked with one another made the audience indicated that this was a common practice. This scene set up the meaning of life beyond death and womanhood because only women were standing over the dead. 

Purpose of the Work: A main purpose of the work was for the director to pay homage to his childhood as the movie filmed in the place he grew up and the characters were similar to the women who raised him. 

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Personal Perspective: 

As usual, when films start, I need to take some time to get into it. This is the same with any kind of story, even with books. But, unlike books, I can stay focused and entertained by good cinematography. The Spanish film ‘Volver’ did just that for me. The stunning single-point shots and frames kept me wanting more. I completely adored the close-up shots of characters doing simple tasks. For example, when Raimunda was putting away Tupperware, washing the dishes, and grabbing paper towels-- just to name a few-- I absolutely adored how they were shot. When the plot began to thicken, however, it was more than just the cinematography that left me breathless. The acting was incredible that I was convinced I was watching someone else’s life right before my eyes. There were many surprises that I didn’t see coming that left me on the edge of my seat the whole time. When the film ended, I had felt satisfied and unsatisfied. I wanted to know more of the story, it felt like the conclusion was only starting when the credits began to roll. But, at the same time, I was okay with how it ended because I can make up my own conclusions about how I feel the story will continue. I really enjoyed how the visuals throughout the whole film were chosen carefully to match the overall message.  

Cultural Perspective: 

Almodovar uses a lot of past and present aspects of the Spanish culture in his films. As he grew up in Spain, it’s something he knows well and feels most inspired from. The director is obsessed with the media of Spanish culture-- such as telenovelas, magazine stories, infomercials. Almodovar adds Spanish media to his films quite often. For example, in ‘Volver,’ he uses the idea of a film-within-a-film aspect near the end of the movie. Another example is when Paco was watching soccer on the television in the earlier shots of the film. Almodovar claims that the brightness and intenseness of the colors match the drama that Spanish films have, which is why he tends to this culture more to satisfy his creativity. A quote from a 2006 interview mentioned in an Amuse article by Colin Crummy, Almodovar states, “It is something very Spanish but it is hardly used in Spain. It corresponds both to my personality and the baroque behaviour of my fictional characters. Explosions of colour fit in very well with high drama.”

Critical Perspective: 

There were multiple mentions of child abuse and pedophilia within the film. One example is that Raimunda’s father abused and raped her as a child that led to the birth of Paula. Near the beginning of the film, there was an up-close shot of the fourteen-year-old girl’s private spot indicating that Paco-- the supposed father-- was looking at it, and he was creeping on her while she got undressed in her room. After a few scenes roll by, we see Paula waiting for her mother at the bus stop in the rain looking petrified. After Paula didn’t give a clear answer, we see Raimunda finding Paco’s dead body on the kitchen floor. Paula began to explain the whole event of the assault that led to her stabbing him in detail. The aspect of child abuse and murder is enough to provoke a strong response from the viewer. The whole event is extremely traumatizing that will make people talk about it afterward. A major theme throughout this film is death and the afterlife. The superstitions of spirits visiting you before you pass on overflowed the village. Irene was thought to have passed in a fire four years prior to the story’s timeline. So, when she had visited her sister who was dying, many suspected that it was her spirit helping the living pass on. The idea of death and the afterlife is a difficult topic to bring up in conversation, so it wouldn’t be unusual if someone had felt uncomfortable. There were many ways death occurred within the film; stabbing, old-age, a house fire(that was intentional), and cancer. Each death-- and the reason it happened-- can provoke an emotional response from the audience. The running themes and cultures of the film will leave anyone’s mind wondering: what’s next?

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References

Merin, Jennifer. “Jennifer Merin Interviews Pedro Almodovar Re ‘Volver.’” ALLIANCE OF WOMEN FILM JOURNALISTS, 13 Dec. 2006, awfj.org/blog/2006/12/13/jennifer-merin-interviews-pedro-almodovar-re-volver/.  

Team, Amuse. “A Musical Tour of Ibiza.” Amuse, 24 Mar. 2021, amuse.vice.com/en_us/article/bvg3p4/a-musical-tour-of-ibiza. 

Lester, Paul Martin. Visual Communication: Images with Messages. Sixth ed., Michael Rosenberg, 2014.

Almodóvar, Pedro, Agustin Almodóvar, Esther García, Penélope Cruz, Carmen Maura, Lola Dueñas, Blanca Portillo, Yohana Cobo, Chus Lampreave, Antonio . Torre, Carlos Blanco, José L. Alcaine, and Alberto Iglesias. Volver. , 2006.

[truxi-twice]

Sorry, ok so this has been bugging me since reading the Butters Hate post, but folks were saying that he’s “at least 20 years older than Andi.”

And that’s just...really incorrect, to the point that it feels a bit like LOOKING for reasons to hate Butters.

Looking at the timeline, he’s probably about 12-13 years older than her. So like, they’re not the same age, but he’s not in the “old enough to be her father” category.” Moreover, she would’ve been about THIRTY when they met (going by Turn Coat—when Harry brings Butter to the group to take over for Kirby as DM) and they didn’t start dating for at least 2 years after that, so it’s not like he’s creeping on some barely legal girl.

Like, cards on the table? I am Not A Fan of the relationship, primarily because it felt super abrupt. One book she’s sort of with her ex-girlfriend, and they have to give Butters CPR while his soul is literally out of his body, and the next time we see them oh, hey, I guess they’re dating and living together now. Out of everything that’s gone down with Butters, that’s the one thing that feels like Cheesy Wish Fulfillment. It also doesn’t help that Andi essentially has no character beyond being part of the Alphas, and, for most of her page-time, completely obsessed with Kirby (who was completely obsessed with her). What did she go to college/grad school for? Who knows. She plays D&D, but so does the rest of the pack.

Butters has always been such a fun, dynamic characters, and it’s frustrating that his finally getting a relationship is practically a throw-away, but we’re supposed to just go with “oh man they’re super in love” and all. And I don’t know, I haven’t read Peace Talks yet, maybe we get more, but it still doesn’t make up for the way it happened.

BUT. He’s not creeping on some girl 20+ years his junior. (Now the whole thing with Harry and Molly? That’s waaaay creepier. Like, Dresden Files just has...it has a lot of issues with women and relationships where every female character is bi and, with few exceptions, is into Harry, but the incubi are all straight dudes.)

Anyway. Butters and Andi both deserve better writing I guess is what I’m saying.

(And also, I don’t really think the whole Knight of the Cross thing is as “wish fulfillment” as some people say. Firstly, there’s a pretty good chance that Butters is going to get himself killed because he is just not cut out for fighting. Not because he’s teeny and older, but because he literally hates hurting people. He nearly got himself killed because he paused after feeling bad that he dislocated a bad guy’s knee once.

But likewise BECAUSE of his compassion, he’s actually a pretty good option for being a Knight. We’ve seen from Sanya that religion doesn’t matter. That said, it would be NICE (I am not expecting it at all, because I doubt he even thinks about it) if Butcher actually went into the differences between Christian/Catholic ideology and Jewish ideology, especially regarding forgiveness/redemption. (Also feels like if there had been, say, 11 Jewish Knights prior to Butters, that could be good and Significant.)

Anyway. Now I’m kind of dreading Peace Talks and all. I’ve been feeling this way about every book since Cold Days, because I’m always waiting for the hammer to drop for either Butters dying, or the writing on him just being Bad. (I’m not a super fan of his paranoia in Skin Game, and I STILL think he should’ve gotten Amoracchius, not Fidelacchius, which I’d been expecting since before SG even, but I Get It.)

And Butters is not 20 years older than Andi.

...this got longer than I meant

[arcticdementor]

For millennia the family has stood as the central institution of society—often changing, but always essential. But across the world, from China to North America, and particularly in Europe, family ties are weakening, with the potential to undermine one of the last few precious bits of privacy and intimacy.

Margaret Mead once said, “no matter how many communes anyone invents, the family always creeps back.” But today’s trajectory is not promising. Even before the Covid-19 pandemic, family formation and birth rates were declining throughout much of the world, not just in most of the West and East Asia, but also in parts of South American and the Middle East.

The ongoing pandemic appears to be driving birth rates globally down even further, and the longer it lasts, the greater possibility that familial implosion will get far worse, and perhaps intractable. Brookings predicts that COVID will result in 300,000 to 500,000 fewer U.S. births in 2021. Marriage rates have dropped significantly to 35 year lows.

…

These predictions turned out to be vastly exaggerated, with a rapid decline in global hunger. The anticipated population explosion is morphing into something more like an implosion, with much of the world now facing population stagnation, and even contraction. As birth rates have dropped, the only thing holding up population figures in many places is longer lifespans, though recent data suggests these may be getting shorter again .

These trends can be felt in the United States, where the birthrate is sinking. U.S. population growth among the cohort aged between 16 and 64 has dropped from 20 percent in the 1980s to less than 5 percent in the last decade. This is particularly bad for the future of an economy dependent on new workers and consumers.

This demographic transition is even more marked in Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, and much of Europe, where finding younger workers is becoming a major problem for employers and could result in higher costs or increased movement of jobs to more fecund countries. As the employment base shrinks, some countries, such as Germany, have raised taxes on the existing labor force to pay for the swelling ranks of retirees.

Similar patterns can be seen in China. Expanding workforces like China’s—which grew by 380 million between 1980 and 2012—drove a world-shattering economic boom. Now, this resource is already in peril; birthrates have cratered to  historic lows. China’s working-age population (those between 15 and 64 years old) peaked in 2011 and is projected to drop 23 percent by 2050. This plunge will be exacerbated by the effects of the now discarded one-child policy, which led to the aborting of an estimated 37 million Chinese girls since it came into effect in 1980. By 2050, China is projected  to have 60 million fewer people under age fifteen, a loss approximately the size of Italy’s total population. The ratio of retirees to working people is expected to have more than tripled by then, which would be one of the most rapid demographic shifts in history, and by 2050 will be roughly 20 percent higher than that of the U.S.

…

Today’s demographic stagnation represents a throwback to earlier times. After the relative buoyant growth in Classical times, the Middle Ages also were a period of global demographic stagnation, caused by famine, pestilence, pervasive celibacy and poverty. Population growth soared with the rise of liberal capitalism in the Early Modern period, aided by changing attitudes toward motherhood, children, and families. Simon Schama describes the Netherlands, the fount of this transition, as a “Republic of Children” built around the nuclear family. The medieval obsession with the Virgin Mother and the unrealistic cherubim typical of Renaissance painting were replaced with domestic images characterized by “uncompromising earthiness.”

We now seem to be moving away from those values, and as in the Middle Ages, becoming less centered around the family. Serfs at least had religion and a sense of community; our societies have become increasingly lonely, with single men hit hardest and children, often without two parents or any siblings, and chained to social media, increasingly isolated around the world. In the U.S. since  1960, the percentage of people in the United States living alone has grown from about 12 percent to 28 percent. Even intimacy is on its way out, particularly among the young; the once swinging age groups now are suffering a “sex recession.”

The percentage of American women who are mothers is at its lowest point in over three decades. Intact families are rarer, and single living more common. In the United States, the rate of single parenthood has grown from 10 percent in 1960 to over 40 percent today. This is very bad news for society, particularly minorities, because intact families tend to have fewer problems relating to prison, school, or poverty.

This social collapse is going global. In Britain, 8 percent of households in 1970 were headed by a single parent; now, the rate is over 25 percent. The percentage of children born outside marriage has doubled over the past three decades, to 40 percent. In the Scandinavian countries, around 40 percent of the population lives alone.

…

In Japan, the harbinger of modern Asian demographics, the number of people living alone is expected to reach 40 percent of the whole population by 2040. Japan has a rising “misery index” of divorces, single motherhood, and spousal and child abuse—all of which accelerates the country’s disastrous demographic decline and deepens class division. More and more people are not only living alone but dying alone. There are estimated to be four thousand “lonely deaths” in Japan every week.

…

The disinclination to form families is often described as generational choice. But American millennial attitudes about family are not significantly different from prior generations, though perhaps with a greater emphasis on gender equality. Among American childless women under age 44, barely 6 percent are “voluntarily childless.” The vast majority of millennials want to get married and have children.

High housing prices, crowded living conditions, and financial pressures certainly account for much of this gap. This phenomenon is particularly marked in the urban centers that dominate the world’s economy and culture. Today many large cities are becoming childless demographic graveyards. Between  2011 and 2019, the number of babies born annually in Manhattan dropped by nearly 15 percent, while the decrease across the city was 9 percent. The nation’s premier urban center could see its infant population shrink by half in the next thirty years. The share of nonfamily households grew three times as fast in gentrifying neighborhoods as in the city overall. In the future, writes Steve LeVine in Axios, shifting local priorities “could write kids out of urban life for good.”

…

Nearly half a century ago, Daniel Bell saw a “new class” rising with values profoundly divergent from the traditional bourgeois norms of self-control, industriousness, and personal responsibility, which together form the essence of familialism. Instead, Bell envisioned a new type of individualism, unmoored from religion and family, which could dissolve the foundations of middle-class culture.

Indeed, for some, particularly in Europe and North America, declining fecundity represents an ideal result, chosen by those who “give up having children to save the planet” in order to reduce the carbon impact of each additional human. The recipe for reducing family size fits with the widely promoted notion of de-growth which has strong support from the oligarchs and financiers associated with the World Economic Forum. The goal is no GDP growth, less consumption, smaller houses, less class mobility, policies likely to reduce birthrates.

Others, particularly feminists and gender activists, celebrate the decline of the family for more ideological reasons. The late feminist icon Betty Frieden once compared housewives to people marching voluntarily into “a concentration camp.” One recent New York Times article even linked women who choose to stay at home with “white supremacy.” Black Lives Matter, true to its quasi-Marxist ideology, has made clear its antipathy to the nuclear family, an attitude widely shared in the mainstream media as well.

The more conventional Marxists in China, for their part, see these post-familial attitudes as a threat to the country’s future. China’s Communist leaders, while officially genuflecting to Maoist ideology, now promote the filial piety central to both traditional folk religion and the Confucianism but long reviled by the founders of the People’s Republic. Once terrified by overpopulation, China’s leaders are seeking ways to raise childbearing and family formation into “socialist” values.

But it’s Japan which again epitomizes the shift in Asian attitudes. There, traditional values such as hard work, sacrifice, and loyalty are largely rejected by the new generation, the shinjinrui or “new race.” These younger Japanese, writes one sociologist, are “pioneering a new sort of high quality, low energy, low growth existence.” Maybe they don’t need much energy since nearly a third of Japanese adults entering their thirties have never had sex. This is not a good predictor for family formation.

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To succeed, such initiatives have to go beyond cash payments and other incentives, as welcome as these may be. There also needs to be a concerted effort to build family-friendly housing— large apartments, townhomes, and single-family detached houses—that generally attract families with children. Rather than shoehorning forced density into already-dense metros, we can encourage the development of less expensive, family-friendly housing; the shift to the periphery accelerated by the pandemic could help reverse the rapid aging and demographic declines associated with densely packed cities. The rise of remote work—something widely embraced by parents—could boost families by allowing them to work at home or nearby.

These are not issues of right or left, but concern the future of our civilization, not just economically but spiritually. Social democracy, as first developed in places like Sweden, sought to bolster families, not hem them in. Some conservatives have placed similar emphasis on the family unit. The debate should be not the utility of supporting families, but how best to do it.

This is a choice we need to make. A woke utopia, where children and families are rare, upward mobility constrained, and society built around a collective welfare system, would create a society that rewards hedonism and personal self-absorption. There is nothing as binding in a society as the ties created by children, who give us reason to fight against an encroaching dystopia.