#okay NOW it's out of my system ( ; v;)b

[mewkwota]

There, now you can tell them apart. (They look the same)

I messed up on how I wanted to draw the twins' hair in that last comic-- I started the silly little tufts on the wrong side-- and it bothered me so much I had to draw these out to soothe my pain.

[barleyo]

Consequence.

Adoptive Dad! Enji Todoroki X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: nobody asked for this but idc :3 i wrote this as a b-day present for myself!! i luv this old abusive man so bad oh my god!!! nasty old man who tries to be good but fails so miserably :3 old man who is just MEANT to be awful and abusive and gross!! luv it!!! i wanted to do a full on incest fic w him but idk if anybody would be interested >_< just let me know!!

Tags: adoptive-incest (daddy-daughter), age gap (18-50s), p in v, purity, sexual abuse mentions, loss of virginity, allusions to physical abuse, size difference, creampie, gross nasty stuff in general

Wordcount: 1.6k

Once all of his kids had given him a final 'fuck you' and left him on his own, Enji felt the pressure of loneliness crash down on him. Being on top in the hero rankings was worthless to him when he came home to an empty house. Every second he sat alone in his house, he realized that it was simply too big for just one man. It had never been a home, only a house where a fragmented family resided. Only once his kids fled did that realization hit him. 

He needed to fill the space and quick, and more than that, he needed to start over. He wanted to redeem himself somehow. Whole new family for a whole new man. 

But dating was hard at his age, and all the decent women were taken. Only fame-chasing whores were interested in him at this point, and he couldn't blame them. What the hell else did he have to offer? No woman would want to be with a tired, emotionally constipated, divorced, middle-aged man. Nor would any want to have kids with one, especially not at his age. 

Adoption it was. Simple enough. Plenty of kids in the system. Plenty of needy little brats that could benefit from his new-found, new-wave parenting tactics that he read up on in his abundant spare time. 'Don't abuse your kids.' Who would've thought it? Crazy. 'Top ten reasons why your kids won't visit you when you're in the nursing home.' Well, shit. 

He knew he had to go older. He would be absolutely damned if he would take in a toddler, or worse, a tween. He wasn't ready to raise anyone— he needed something already broken in for the most part. 

17? Yeah, that should be fine. He could do that. Old enough to take care of itself for the most part. Another body in the house was what he needed, not another responsibility. A girl? Yeah. Girls were supposed to be easier, right? Girls are sweet and grateful, always considerate and willing to help out. Girls are gentle and tender. 

Just his luck. He got the most clingy girl the foster care system had to offer. It was, at most, a bit irritating for the first few days when you were skittish and nervous around him all the time, but he understood. The problems occurred when you started to get comfortable.

He thought he wanted an affectionate little thing, especially considering the radio silence he received from his biological children, but this was just too much. Wherever he was, you needed to be. All day, all night. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, excluding when he was on patrol. 

Enji knew that adopted kids tended to have abandonment issues, or whatever, but did you have to be such a damn velcro child? It was cute, in a way, the first year or so of your stay with him. He kinda liked it, having some positive attention finally turned his way, but at a certain point it was just too much. 

Like when you turned 18 and decided that sleeping alone was no longer an option. Of course, he gave in. He tried to argue back, but the threat of tears from you was too much for his now mended heart. He was trying to change, damn it. He couldn't possibly not give you everything you ever asked for. 

'Oh, what's that? Sleeping in daddy's bed isn't enough? He has to spoon with you until you fall asleep? Honey, do you really think—? No, no, don't cry. Okay, okay, I'll do it.'

Or when spooning wasn't enough, and you needed to be massaged before falling asleep in Enji's arms, taking up his bed like nobody's business. 

'What's wrong, baby? Daddy's already rubbing your back, what else do you want? Touch you where? Baby— okay, since you said please.'

Every night, his thick fingers ran tight circles over your clit, strong arms holding you tight while you flailed and wriggled against him. You never seemed to get used to his touch. It was just too good. He split you open with his index and middle, curling into the spot you couldn't quite reach on your own. Every night, like clockwork. 

But, of course, you, the mouse who was given a cookie, asked for more. Fingers weren't enough. You needed more from daddy. Sleep didn't come easily enough for you after his skilled touches. You whined for him after every exchange, but he just couldn't give you what you wanted.

Daddy would do almost anything for his baby, anything you asked! Hell, if it made you happy, if it helped to ease the guilt he carried from his older four screw ups, why not? If it helped to mend the hole he created in his own heart, he'd pepper you in every kiss and suck and touch you as much as you wanted him to, but—

he really didn't think he could deflower you. 

The idea was too much, way too much. Kind of hypocritical of him. Finger banging and slurping on his adoptive daughter was well and good enough, but playing a little game of 'just the tip' was a line he didn't know if he could cross. 

It was tempting, and every time he turned you down he felt like a real douchebag, but he didn't trust himself with you. You were so small. He was anything but gentle. He had broken enough of his kids in other ways, he didn't exactly want to add to the score. 

Your cunt was swollen and drooling after your near nightly ritual with Enji. Crawl up into his bed, whine, scratch at him and beg for his sweet touch. You always got what you wanted, except for one thing.

"Why not?" you whined, gripping onto his forearm as he curled his fingers into you from his spot behind you, lazily acting as your big spoon. 

"This is enough." His teeth were gritted softly, trying to hold himself back. "You cum like this just fine."

You let your mouth hang open, shuddering silently at how he seemed to speed up and abuse your g-spot. "Not enough," you were finally able to make out, legs clenching in an attempt to force him to stop. 

Enji huffed, ignoring your whiny excuse. He hated when you locked him out like this, trying to keep your cunt from him like some type of half-assed punishment. Moving your legs back open, spread even further now, he continued fingering you with the same brutal, forceful pace. 

"You're being bratty, baby. I don't appreciate when you act like that," he said simply, looking down at your convulsing body. 

"You always say that," you said, pushing his arm as you tried to squirm away from him to pout. "You don't wanna 'cause you don't love me. Don't wanna get close t'me." 

That was his final straw. He had been holding himself back for your sake, but he could not handle the hurt tone in your voice, even if he knew you were faking just to get him to bite. 

He pulled his fingers out of your hole and pushed them into your mouth, stuffing the digits down your throat. He slipped his girthy cock out of his boxers, jamming the wide tip into your needy warmth. 

"You know that is not true," Enji said, already fucking into you without regard to how you were almost too tight. He'd fix that. Make you fit like a glove soon enough. "I spoil you enough, and you still want more?"

You moaned, sound coming out muffled from his fingers blocking your words. He pulled them out, strings of saliva coating your cheek as he brought his hand back to your clit. 

"Jus' wanna be closer to you 'nd feel you."

He scoffed, pushing down on your clit with too much force, bringing you to the edge of climax already. 

"No, you're a spoiled brat. I give you too much," he said, not meaning a damn word that came from his mouth. "Got used to getting whatever you want, huh? Selfish little pussy taking everything it can get." 

The pure euphoria you get from him being rough with you for once is unmatched. Daddy gave you what you wanted all the time, and you liked it, but he was too gentle with it. Like he was scared to mess up or make a mistake (again). You needed him to correct you, you'd wanted him to fuck some sense into you for so long.

You clenched the silky sheets on the bed, hands trembling while he pounding into you, hips cramming against yours spastically. 

God, he was ashamed. 

Not because he was fucking his daughter, hell, he came this far without problem. He just usually was much better in bed. Your gasps and shaky moans did little to appease him. Any other time, he'd be composed and sophisticated with his strokes, but he was sloppy and needy now. 

His cock kicked inside of you, twitching when he spilled his seed. He was so caught up in his own embarrassment that he hadn't realized how dangerously close he had gotten. 

"Daddy, did you—?"

Your question was interrupted by his hand covering your mouth, unstable thrusts continuing to fill your senses. You couldn't care that he came in you when he made you feel this good.

While your legs shook and your pussy gushed, one thing was made very apparent to both you and Enji:

This was the first time he let himself go and fucked you, but it would definitely not be the last.

[whosthere54]

My notes on the Quixis Answers stream!

- all bleeding eyes pointing back to Icarus

- look about mid 20s icarus genuinely over resets 40-50 years true for every character

- No creation powers because they are not “all them” they have pieces of the other sherberts in them. No creation powers because they aren’t them, hesitation because they aren’t them.

- bound is last one standing in the infinite hall of portals

- Midas fully believes that they will die with their world BUT THEY DONT (and they’re totally okay with that)

- REO WAS QUIXIS (They do not remember their time as quixis)

- THE THINGS allowed glitches (we were The inciting incident) THE REAL WORKD GLITCHES INTO FABLE

- THE THINGS THAT TALKED TO THEM USED TO BE BIRDS RHAJFJSIFJR

- WERE THE REASON THEY WERE ABLE TO REMEMBER THE RESETS

- Were rifts in those things WE TALK AS THINGS THAT DONT EXIST WERE RIFTS IN THE REALITY

- Fable can’t be streamed anymore because the glitches will hurt that world

- CHARLES IS FROM THE WORLD OF THE FIRST EVER QUIXIS BECAUSE THEY TRIED TO TAKE HIM TO THE WORLDPORT WITH THEM BUT IT DIDNT WORK SO THEYRE AN ENTITY NOW

M U L T I V E R S A L C O N S T A N T

SO THEYRE NEVER ALONE (ILL CRY)

- Midas is from a dystopian utopia (I CARE SO MUCH)

- Midas had a fable and isla, Athena Centross, Caspian, Jamie

- ILL YELL ABOUT THEIR SHOW

- Real older than Midas (Idk if they said specifically said on that show idea or if that was cannon so I wrote it down anyways cause I care)

- SORRY MIDAS SINGING NEVER LOVE AN ANCHOR ABOUT ICARUS ILL YELL ABIUT IT

- The tiktok account how did I not know-

- World rebuild themselves

- Townhall board - whiteboard (in quixian)

- Every sherb has to wake up in their bed, theirs is their desk.

- WHEN THEY MOVED THE DUPLICATE HOUSE SHOWED UP (They mention again that it was the opposite X and Y coords opposite positive and negative)

- THATS WHY THE OFFICE BEDS GLITXHED

- THE ORANGE DIMENSION WASNT ALWAYS ORANGE

- THE SYNDACATE CMV HELP

- The vods being matched to the auras

- The outside cannon was the only one I hadn’t caught

- Their browser being yellow and brown lolol

- MCCR SHERB - EVENT SHEB AJAX SICJSIJFJSCJISJCJSJCJDJGIF

-guys I care about Ajax so much

- Hypixel Sherb - 2 different eye colors bleeding yellow TubNet bleeding smth I didn’t catch that

- Icarus was always pulled to the worldport when gone across dimensions. Hypixel to TubNet Eye glitch because of the change in dimensions

- Reo is the most okay with being alone because he just finished being quixis and is used to it (I CARE SM)

NOTES IN THE ORIGINAL CONCEPT ART

- things disappear reappear swap places things places spaces change time does not (smth like that)

- CAME FROM UNDER MY SKIN I CARE

- The concept of having to ascend to do things right and fix things I hold it in my hands

- “Are you in ic has feelings? No…”

- THE ART

- THE LONGER YOU SOEND IN THE WORLDPORT THE MORE COLOR DRAINS FROM YOU

- B I R D I E

- THE PRISON SCAR I CARE SO MUCH

- GLOWING WING EARS THE BELOVED

- LIL BABY IN A LIK WAR UNIFORM ILL SOB

- Midas did not die or go back to their destroyed world.

- THE HAIR IS NORMAL AGAIN

- Gray eyes

- WE HAVE TI WAIT AND SEE WHERE THEY ARE

SCALE :

1 - Denial (Hardcore sherb farthest from denial)

2 - Asshole (Kurt farthest from asshole)

- Sherbverse is a metaphor

- Not a System

- Parallel to what it is like to be a system

- 1 full CMV 2 Mini CMVs coming out and lots more sherbeverse content <3

- Sherbeverse section of the discord

- May have something to do with the Ven epilogue 👀👀

- #SQCU :0

[confused-pyramid]

Damage is Done

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: You and Rafe hooked up when you first moved to the OBX, and he hasn't been able to get you out of his system ever since.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: SMUT, slight dub-con, p in v, fingering, overstimulation, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), hair pulling, choking, dark!rafe, toxic relationship, drinking, vague discussions of mental health

The air feels hot and humid even as the sun sets on the first day of summer. The annual start of summer bonfire is just getting underway, and you can already feel yourself starting to perspire. Not even your bikini top and denim shorts are small enough to keep the heat away tonight.

"Where the hell is JJ with my beer?" you grumble as Kiara takes a seat on a log next to you. "I'm melting over here."

Kie, who hasn't even started to glisten, just laughs. "That's what you get for being from out of state. All of us locals are used to the heat by now."

You feign a laugh and shove her shoulder. "You're hilarious. I've been living in the OBX for two years now, when are you guys gonna stop giving me shit for being from Boston?"

"When you're no longer from Boston."

You look up to see JJ and Pope, the first of whom hands you a full cup of metallic beer. The first time you tasted beer from a keg, you spat it out after a single sip. Since then, you've grown to love the taste of metal.

By the time you down your cup, the party raging around you finally starts to get exciting. You spot John B dancing with some girl who's clearly here on vacation, and watch as Pope stares longingly at Kie...who is staring at JJ.

Shaking your head, you stifle a smile and head over to the keg to fill your cup again. When you arrive, the line seems to go on forever, so you turn around, looking for something different, or a bit stronger.

"Looking for something?" a voice calls from next to you. You turn your head to see a shirtless Rafe Cameron holding up a bottle of whiskey. "Hey, Boston. I'll pour you a finger if you ask nicely."

Perfect. Just who I need to see today.

"Just give it to me, Rafe," you grumble, reaching out to grab the bottle. Humor dances in his eyes and you gulp, hating the fact that you are still affected by his bare skin.

He pulls it away at the last second, making you stumble forward slightly. He's much taller than you, and you have to tilt your head back to meet his eye, but that's how he likes it.

"I said nicely," he grins, holding the bottle out again.

Rafe can see the anger growing behind your eyes, and it builds the excitement in his own. He's only seen you mad on a few occasions, but that was when you were the most fun.

You roll your eyes, tossing your empty cup at his feet and shaking your head. "Whatever, Cameron. I'm not playing this game with you."

You turn and start walking across the sand to your friends, when a hand grabs your wrist and spins you back around. "Rafe, what the fu-"

"We need to talk," he mutters under his breath as he leans in close - too close.

You take a step back and put on what you hope is your most menacing look. "We are never talking about what happened, okay? Ever."

This time when you storm off, he lets you, and you make your way back to your friends, hoping they didn't see any of what just occurred. When you sit back down on the log next to Kiara, JJ's spirited recounting of a time when he stole a six-pack lets you know that you're in the clear.

***

You are waiting for JJ to finish his shift at the docks when you see Rafe again. He is grabbing something from his yacht when he catches your eye, and you look around for a moment before deciding that making a break for it would draw too much attention.

He takes his sweet time walking over, and you squint against the bright sun as he finally stands in front of you.

"Finally stopped avoiding me?" he taunts, his voice low over the heavy breeze.

You laugh humorlessly. "I'm not here for you, Rafe."

"You're on my side of the island."

Of course that's how he would see it. The separation between Kooks and Pogues is something you still have a hard time wrapping your head around, but each interaction has made it clear that you may be the only one.

"I'm not doing this with you," you sigh loudly, turning to see if JJ has appeared yet. "Just go back to your fucking yacht and let me live in peace."

Your words are laced with malice, but he can sense the tension hidden under your tone. He gives you a once-over, taking in your skimpy tank and shorts, and frustration flares behind his eyes as he realizes just how much you have started to look like all the other Pogues you hang out with.

"So it's about the money," he says, his voice slowly ramping up as he speaks. "If the only reason you can find to hate me is my money...then maybe try a little fucking harder."

"I don't fucking care about your money, Rafe," you gape, appalled by the fact that he could boil it down to something so small. "You're not a good person. All you do is bring out the worst in people."

Something that looks like hurt crosses his face for a split second before it turns into a frightening air of pride. "Like I did with you?"

You blanche, glaring at him even as your face flushes with embarrassment. "I didn't hear you complaining."

He wipes the corner of his lips with his thumb, glancing behind you for a moment, before leaning down to your level. "My mouth was a little preoccupied."

Heat sizzles through your veins and you feel a gush of wetness as his breath tickles the shell of your ear. There's a ghost of a smirk on his face, but there's also a flare of irritation in his eyes that sets off a nervous excitement inside of you. You don't know what it says about you that you like the fact that he looks like he wants to tear you apart just to put you back together again.

Your eyes fall shut for a moment, before you regain your senses and shove him away. "Fuck off, Rafe."

"Leave her alone, Cameron!" JJ's voice suddenly calls from behind you.

Fuck. Of course he saw JJ, he's just trying to get a rise out of you in front of the Pogues.

You close your eyes for a beat, and when you open them again, Rafe is wearing an amused expression.

"See you around, Boston," he salutes before spinning on his heels and walking away.

You paste a smile on your face when JJ comes up behind you, and when he asks if Rafe was bothering you, you don't know why you end up saying 'no'.

***

Before you know it, the Midsummers party is around the corner. Kiara's family makes her go all out for the celebration, and John B has been sneaking off to meet up with Sarah Cameron, still pretending that they all don't already know what's been going on between them.

When John B finds out that Pope and JJ are both working at the event, he approaches you with a plan to get in, but you decide that simply asking Kie to be her plus one may be a simpler solution, for you at least.

When the evening of the party finally arrives, you find yourself in Kiara's room, getting ready for an event you have never seen the likes of before.

"What's with all the flowers and stars and shit?" you ask as she hands you a flower crown that looks like hers, but slightly smaller.

She shrugs, placing her crown over her hair. "Don't ask me. I've just been dragged to this party every year since I was 13."

You would never admit it, and especially not to Kie, but you're actually pretty excited for Midsummers. Ever since your family packed up and moved out to Kildare, you've only really gotten to experience the Pogue life, and while your friends were everything you wanted and more, a taste of Kiara's upbringing wasn't entirely unwelcome.

She may complain about the Kook life, but there was something to be said about having everything you needed at your fingertips...and that something spoke to you.

The country club is decorated beautifully when you arrive with Kiara and her family, and you take a moment to soak in the warmth of the torches and the scent of flowers that waft around you.

It smells...expensive, for lack of a better word. And you don't hate it.

Rafe notices you the moment you walk in. He doesn't even bother trying to tell himself that his eyes were just wandering, because ever since he found out the Carreras had added a plus one, he hadn't stopped looking for you. He half-expects you to turn your nose up at this event, just like Kiara always had, so he's taken by surprise when he sees the wistful expression that crosses your face.

You like it here. The thought brings a small smirk to his face and he takes a sip of champagne to hide his glee. He doesn't have to hide for long, because his expression immediately falls the moment your waiter friend comes by and pulls you into a spinning hug.

Rafe turns away from the scene and tunes back in to the conversation he was having with Topper and Kelce.

"I feel like Sarah's been avoiding me," Topper continues miserably, and Rafe resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Of course she's avoiding you. She can't handle being committed to anyone, let alone a spineless prick like you.

He has had just about enough of Top's complaining for tonight, so he downs his glass in a hefty gulp and walks out onto the dance floor to get some air.

That's when you notice him. His pale blue suit makes him look soft under the waning sunlight, but you know better. Even if you sometimes wish you didn't.

You watch as he grabs a champagne flute from a waiter's tray and takes a long swig. Memories of his lips trained somewhere else send a shot of heat through your abdomen, and you press your legs together under your dress.

His throat bobs as he swallows the bubbly liquid, and you don't realize you've been staring until Rafe's eyes meet yours.

Your eyes widen and you turn away immediately, but it's too late. You don't have to look to know that he's coming up to talk to you, and before you can formulate an escape plan, he is standing beside you.

Rafe can feel the tension wafting off of you, and while he does love to agitate you, he definitely doesn't want to cause a scene and embarrass his family.

He leans over by a fraction of an inch and his bicep glances against your shoulder. He is fully ready for you to shove him aside or start another outburst, so when you don't move, he can't help but lose his breath.

"I thought you were too cool to party with the kooks."

You scoff, looking at something out on the horizon. "I'm only here to keep Kiara company."

"You just keep telling yourself that."

He always did know how to say just the right thing to get a rise of you.

"What do you want from me, Rafe?" you ask, finally looking at him. "Just tell me what you want, so we can stop this asinine charade we've been playing for a year."

He almost doesn't know what to say now that you have finally addressed the growing tensions, but when the words form, he can't hold them in. "I want you to admit that you haven't stopped thinking about what happened that night...because I damn well know that I haven't."

It takes you a few moments to fully understand his words, but once you do, your body involuntarily takes a step back.

You would be lying if you said that you hadn't thought about what happened between you two. If you said you hadn't pictured his mouth when you slid your fingers between your thighs late at night.

Everything about that night had been a surprise, but nothing more than how Rafe Cameron had made you feel when you finally slipped under his sheets.

You can't even say you were drunk, because the expensive liquor had been too much for you and you hadn't touched your cup since arriving at the Camerons' end of summer house party.

It was your first summer on Kildare, and the Pogues had just accepted you into their ranks. You weren't sure if you would be able to fit into their tight-knit group, so you took a chance and went to a Kook party.

The drinks had been too heavy and the music too loud, but everyone was having fun, so you tried your best. However, if you had been honest with yourself, you would've known that you had come to this party for one reason. One person.

Instead, you pretended this was a way to explore the island, and when you needed a break from the party, you had gone up the stairs and sat in the first empty room you could find.

When Rafe found you there, sitting on his bed, he almost didn't seem surprised.

"I've seen you around," he had said, setting his cup on his desk, "hanging with those Pogues."

"What is with the fucking names around here," you had mumbled under your breath, until you heard his quiet chuckle. "I just don't get why you guys have divided the island like it's fucking Battleship or something."

"What's your name?" Rafe asked then, his eyes trained on yours like a hawk. "Where are you from?"

You weren't sure what you wanted out of tonight, so you stuck with a simple answer. "Boston."

He laughed again, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on the chair opposite you. "What are you doing in my bedroom, Boston?"

You jolt out of the memory as Rafe's head dips down to look at you.

So yes, it would be a lie to say that you hadn't thought about him since. But lying to him was easy, especially when the truth had the power to tear your life apart.

"I can't," you whisper, leaning in like you have a secret. "I can't admit it, because it's not true."

His lips part with shock, and you take this second of confusion to rush down the stairs and onto the dance floor, where Kiara is waving you over.

"Was Rafe giving you trouble?" she asks as you take her hand and follow her out onto the lawn. "I would say I'll tell the guys, but my parents would kill me if I created a scene."

You laugh lightly, shaking your head. "No trouble. He was just asking what I was doing here."

She still looks concerned, so you pat her hand and cock your head over to where Pope is working with his dad. "Let's go say hi."

"I hate to say it, but the kooks really know how to throw an event," Pope muses when you approach him. "Don't tell JJ I said that."

Kie starts to laugh but it quickly turns to a cough when she points to the veranda off to the side of the party. "I guess John B found his way in."

You follow her line of sight to find John B pulling Sarah Cameron into a tight hug. When you look past her, you notice that Topper and Kelce are getting dangerously close to spotting them.

"Guys," you whisper-yell, getting their attention, "we need to buy him some time."

Kiara frowns. "I got Topper."

"I guess I got Kelce," Pope sighs as they disperse.

You glace around the party for a few moments before deciding that your efforts may be better spent inside. Pushing past all of the couples swaying on the dance floor, you walk into the country club, catching onto the railing when you stumble over your heels.

Other than a few stragglers and couples making out in the corner, the club is basically empty, most people favoring the festive pavilion. You're about to head back outside when a familiar voice calls to you from across the hall.

"If you want me to leave you alone, you gotta stop following me around everywhere."

You suck a breath in, spinning around to see Rafe sauntering over to you. "I'm starting to think you might be stalking me, Boston."

You make an undignified noise, your eyes taking in his tall form. His hair is falling into his face and you begrudgingly admit that he looks good - really good - but this isn't the time. You're supposed to be helping John B.

"Give me a break," you scoff. "Why would I be stalking you?"

Rafe shrugs, striding forward so he's a step away from being face to face with you. "That's what I'm trying to figure out, seeing as how you don't think about me."

He takes another step, his breath fanning over your temple. Your face burns as you try to avoid looking at him, but with his lips so close to yours, it's nearly impossible.

When you finally look up, his eyes are piercing, and your mouth dries up like the room has been turned up a 100 degrees.

"Now," he whispers, his eyes never leaving yours, "I'm gonna go back to the other kooks."

He takes a step around you, and you almost let him, before you remember what you're doing here in the first place: distracting him.

Running on pure instinct, you grab his arm and pull him back toward you until his lips meet yours.

Rafe can hardly believe what is going on, but your mouth is hot and sweet and he would be remiss to let you get away when he's finally gotten you back. You smell like gardenia and he takes a deep breath in as his hands grip onto your waist, pulling you closer to him under the dim light of the club.

You can taste the champagne bubbles on his tongue when he kisses you back, and you gasp against his mouth when his hands tighten on your waist and push you against the side wall, away from the view of the party.

Your back hits the wall with a thud and you almost laugh at the fact that he wants to hide this as much as you do, but it feels so good and it's been so long, that you allow yourself a second to stay in the moment. With him.

When his hands come up to tug your hair back, the sharp sting sends a shot of heat through your core and you bite down on his bottom lip for good measure.

Rafe pulls back with a wince, but he doesn't look mad. The opposite, if anything.

He presses his thumb against his lip and the sight of his blood sends you flying back to reality. Reaching forward to wipe a bit of your lip gloss off the corner of his mouth, you flash him a grin and stalk back into the party.

When your conscience comes back to haunt you later that night, you tell yourself it was all just to distract him.

***

After the party, Rafe screws his eyes shut as the girl kneeling in front of him takes him in her mouth, her lips gliding up and down his length at a maddening pace.

His head falls back and he resists the urge to grip her hair and pound up into her, even though his body is begging for a release. He doesn't want to touch her or taste her or even open his eyes, because then he'll remember that she's not you, and that's exactly what he needs tonight.

You're what he needs every night, but when he saw your blond friend tuck his face into your hair as you left the party, he had seen red and needed an immediate reprieve.

His cock twitches in the girl's mouth and he allows himself a single moment to imagine it's you instead. To picture your soft lips and wide eyes and -

A groan tears through his throat and he spills into her willing mouth.

***

It doesn't take long for Sarah to insert herself into the Pogues, but once she and Kie figure out their shit, you find that you don't mind having another girl around.

She was fun to hang with at the Chateau, and she was a great surfing buddy, so when John B recruits the gang to break her out of her house late one night, you don't question it.

As usual, the plan is pretty much to go with the flow, but once you make it to the Cameron property, the risks of what you're about to do finally hit you all.

"Okay, fuck this," Kie sighs, holding her hands up. "We need an actual plan this time. I say John B and y/n sneak up to her room to get her, while JJ, Pope, and I create a distraction out back."

You nod, fist bumping John B and saluting the rest of the group. "Let's do this."

Once you find an open window at the back, the plan goes into motion, with Kiara and the guys lighting a pillow on fire while you and John B hide behind curtains on the first floor.

When Ward and Rose run out back, you both hightail it up the stairs before slowing to a tiptoe on the top floor.

"I'll get her from her room," John B whispers to you as he sneaks along the wall of the hallway, "you keep a look out."

He slinks off down the hall as you backtrack, being careful not to make any noise. You hear a few excited whispers from Sarah's room, but you don't notice anything else until a hand clamps over your mouth and pulls you back into a room off the hall.

You stop trying to scream when the door shuts and you realize you're in Rafe's bedroom. Peeling his hand away, you shove him off, glaring at him as he smirks back.

"Now I really think you're stalking me," he grins, pushing his hair back from his face. "What are you doing here, Boston?"

"That's none of your business," you spit, turning on your heels to leave.

You don't make it to the door before Rafe's hands spin you back around and push you against the wall. There's a small thud as your back makes contact, but no pain comes until he presses his hand to your throat, keeping you in place.

"Actually," he licks his teeth, "seeing as how it's my house, I think it is my business. Now spill it, Pogue."

"I can't say anything while you're choking me," you grit out, your voice just barely constricted by his hand.

He barks out a laugh, his hand tightening on your throat until it actually hurts. "You call that choking? When I'm really choking you, you'll know...because you'll be begging for more."

Against your every instinct, heat floods your core, and you know he's right. You know that whatever this is, whatever dark, animal urges he is running on, so are you.

He must notice the shift in your eyes, because his face dips down and your chin involuntarily tilts up to meet him halfway when a voice whisper-yells from the hall.

"Y/n!" Sarah calls out, "where are you?"

You use this moment of distraction to push him off and slip through the doorway before he can make himself seen.

You meet the group at the bottom of the stairs, where they are all waiting.

"Where the hell were you?" Pope asks, concern tinging his impatience.

You wave away his confusion, following them out of the house. "I thought I saw someone, so I hid in one of the spare rooms."

It's not the truth, but it's close enough that you allow yourself the omission. The part of you that wanted a person like Rafe; the part that was drawn to the darkness, instead of running from it...that part of you needed to stay hidden, even if it meant lying to the people you loved most.

***

Every Friday night, you guys would all have a 'Pogue party' at the chateau. This always consisted of drinking, smoking, and playing stupid games until everyone passed out for the night, and tonight was no different.

The air was sticky with heat and John B had left his door open to let whatever fresh air there may be in.

You're already a couple of shots in when JJ finishes his joint and starts to get paranoid, like he usually did.

"We need to figure out how we're gonna get back at the Kooks for what happened at Midsummers," he commands, his hands gesticulating wildly. "They can't get away with treating us like shit."

"I actually agree with him," Pope nods, taking a sip of his beer. "We need to retaliate so they know we won't take their shit lying down."

Kiara lets out a small laugh as she hops up to sit on the arm of the couch JJ is lying on. "What do you propose we do then? Set fire to their backyard? Already done."

You don't even register that it's you talking when you blurt out, "What if we just let it go."

You blink when the rest of them gape at you, only then realizing what you said. "That was a joke."

"Good," JJ squints, a small frown coloring the edges of his mouth. "So anyway..."

You stand up from your spot on the couch and head into John B's kitchen with some lame excuse about getting another drink. You have no idea where your comment came from, but if you had to guess, you think it may have something to do with the growing presence Rafe has had in your life recently.

You grab a bottle from the counter and take a long swig that burns your chest from the inside out. The flavor just reminds you of the whiskey on his tongue from the night you got together, and the bottle almost falls from your grasp.

It takes you almost an hour to get your bearings again, but when you head back into the living room, the rest of the gang is asleep.

Sighing, you lay down on one of the couches and close your eyes.

***

An hour later, you're no closer to falling asleep than you were when you first closed your eyes. Your mind keeps wandering to memories that you have kept locked away for a long time - too long.

The sound of a soft breeze hitting the wind chimes out front lulls you into a quiet trance and for once, you finally let yourself succumb to the memory.

"What are you doing in my bedroom, Boston?"

"I got lost," you said simply, shrugging. You both knew you were lying, but that's what made it more fun.

He had flashed you a sly smile and you had wanted so bad to just reach out and trace the seam of his lips with your fingertip. He looked so pretty under the soft moonlight, and you were the kind of girl who knew how to get what she wanted.

You knew that was probably why you had been so infatuated with Rafe since coming to the island. Because of the challenge. Because he's a Cameron, and you're practically a Pogue, and something about getting a taste of the darkness excited you more than you'd care to admit.

"Why don't I believe that?" he asked, his voice coming out like a breath. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, and you had to exercise all of your self control to keep from staring at the way his biceps strained in his button-down. "I know about you, Boston. I've seen you watching me."

"Oh yeah?" you had smirked, pressing your feet into the ground and inching your legs apart. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Your eyes fly open and you sit upright, your breaths coming out in short spurts. This was too much to bear, even without the other Pogues sleeping all around you.

Taking a deep breath, you carefully step over JJ's sleeping form, making sure to avoid the creaky floorboards on the way to the door. You slip through the open doorway and out into the trees, feeling more and more reckless, the farther you get from the chateau.

It's a long walk to the Cameron mansion, but the fresh air doesn't help clear your thoughts. You're a long way from the girl you were when you first moved to the OBX, but Rafe keeps finding a way to prove that you still have the desire for pain and discomfort. For danger.

When you get to their front porch, you allow yourself one moment to pretend that you're here to get Sarah, but when Rafe pulls the door open, you can't deny it any longer.

He must be able to see it on your face, because his mouth curves up into a slow grin that makes your eyes dance with relief.

"Is Sarah home?" you ask, maybe somehow still hoping for one last chance at a reprieve.

He shakes his head. "She just snuck out."

You nod once, glancing behind him. "Can I come in?"

He leads you out to the back balcony that has a small patio setup and a beautiful view of the ocean. "I'm assuming you don't want anyone to know you're here, so this is the farthest we can get from the bedrooms."

You press your lips together, taking a seat on one of the couches. The wind brings a slight chill, and you shiver, prompting him to hand you his hoodie.

The waves are crashing quietly against the shore, and they look like black ink under the night sky. When Rafe takes a seat next to you, you glance over at him, watching his jaw twitch as his hair rustles in the breeze.

He looks almost wistful under the dim lighting, and your brow scrunches as you try to fathom how this boy could have fallen so far. 

"You hurt my friends," you whisper once the silence starts to become unbearable.

"I know."

You pause for a beat. 

"You hurt me."

His eyes flicker down. "I know that too."

You run a hand through your hair, your breath coming out like a scoff. "I don't understand what you're doing, Rafe. Please, just help me understand it all, because I feel like I'm losing my mind trying to come up with excuses for you."

That gets his attention. "I never asked you to make excuses for me."

Your face contorts and he closes his eyes for a long moment. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, Boston."

"Don't you think I know that?" you cry, before bringing your voice down again. "I've just never had the best judgment when it comes to you."

"What are you gonna do about it?"

Rafe stood up from his chair, his eyes impossibly dark in the dim light of his room. "You sure you know what you're getting into?"

You nodded, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. "Do your worst."

His eyes flashed and he pushed your knees further apart, sending you falling back onto the bed. You were prepared for him to lift your dress and tear your panties off without a warning, so when all you felt were his fingers trailing up your thighs, you were almost upset.

But then he ran his cool finger down your glistening slit and you gasped loudly, turning your face into the sheets bunched up around you.

"So wet for me," he mused, sticking his finger into his mouth. "Sweet too."

Without another word, he pushed two fingers into you, sinking all the way in as you squirmed over the covers. It took a second for you to get acclimated to the feeling, but once his mouth came down to join in, waves of heat had already begun spreading through you.

You practically whined when he lifted your ankles over his shoulders, diving back in to run his tongue over your sensitive clit. Your hands came down to grip onto his hair as he continued his pleasurable assault to your dripping cunt. The sharp tug made him groan, which only sent more vibrations up your abdomen.

"Fuck, I'm close," you moaned as he pressed his hands into your stomach to keep you from rising off the bed. "Don't stop!"

Instead, he did exactly that.

"Asshole," you spat as he grinned back at you, his chin glistening with your slick.

"We're not done yet," he said simply, lifting your legs off of him and pushing you back further on the bed.

Rafe began undoing the buttons on his shirt, so you lifted your dress off, chucking it onto the floor beside his clothes. You couldn't help but watch as he slowly pulled his pants down, his thick cock springing out of his boxers.

Saliva flooded your mouth and you instinctively reached forward, hoping for a taste, but he batted your hand away. Climbing over you, he grabbed a condom from his drawer and slid it on, pumping his dick a few times for good measure.

"It's not gonna fit," you whispered as he lined himself up with your cunt.

"I thought you said you could handle it."

His smug expression sent a flare of anger through your brain and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him down and inside of you.

The stretch was a perfect mix of pain and pleasure and you both moaned in tandem, his low groan blending with your sharp gasps. He pushed a bit further until he was all the way in, before starting to move.

His thrusts began slow and shallow, allowing you a few moments to get used to his size, but the moment you began to squeeze around him, he changed his pace.

"Rafe, fuck, yes," you gasped, your hands lifting up to press into his back.

His thrusts sped up, hitting the same perfect spot inside of you as the coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter. It only took a few more seconds for the coil to snap, and you cried out, digging your nails into his shoulder blades as you spasmed around him.

Once your orgasm had finally begun to abate, he pounded into you a few more times, before spilling into the condom and pulling out.

You were lying next to him, your breaths finally starting to slow, when you saw him turn to you out of the corner of your eye. "Wanna go again?"

The sounds of the water pulsing below is all you can hear for a long time. You're so focused on the sound that you almost don't hear it when Rafe speaks again.

"I don't have an answer for you," he murmurs, his voice carrying just barely above the breeze whistling by your ears. "You said you wanted to understand me, but I don't even know what's going on inside my head half the time."

Your brow furrows and you place your hand on the couch between you two. His movements seem unconscious as he slides his fingers over so that they press against yours.

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?" you ask, turning to look at him.

"That night," he says, stumbling over his words. "Our night."

It would be so easy to lie, just like at Midsummers, but this time feels different. Lying now feels like a betrayal, and even after everything he's done, you can't bring yourself to cross that line.

"No," you sigh, pressing your hand on top of his. "I don't regret it."

***

When you get back to the chateau, Sarah is sitting on the porch.

"There you are," she pouts, standing up and giving you a hug. "Everyone's asleep inside, and JJ's sprawled out over the whole floor, so there's nowhere to step."

You laugh lightly, hoping the night's exploits aren't written all over your face. "I was just out looking for you, actually."

"Huh, weird," she frowns. "You'd think I would have ran into you on the way here then."

You shrug, hoping she'll drop it, and walk past her to get the door. You haven't even reached the knob when she grabs your arm and pulls you back, somewhat forcefully.

"Y/n," she whispers, her voice low and warning, "why are you wearing Rafe's sweatshirt?"

Your eyes widen and you yank it over your head. "Sarah-"

"What have you gotten yourself into?" she asks, her voice sounding genuinely concerned.

You look at the hoodie for another second, before tearing your eyes away from it and handing it to her. "It was nothing. It was stupid, and it won't happen again."

She takes it and ties it around her waist before shooting you a sidelong glance. "This is different. I've seen you around guys you hooked up with. This isn't like that."

You open your mouth to speak but she lifts her hand up, cutting you off. "I won't tell Kie or the guys, but you need to figure out what the hell is going on in your head."

Tears flood your vision. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I can't even imagine what you must think of me."

"Hey, don't apologize to me," she whispers, taking your hand. "I mean, I still love him after everything...what does that say about me?"

You blink the tears away and let Sarah Cameron loop her arm through yours. Maybe everything would be okay again.

***

You don't see him again until he and Barry ambush your friends at the airplane hangar. The altercation turns violent too fast and before you know it, Pope and JJ are on the ground, throwing around punches faster than you can keep up.

When Barry goes for JJ, you rush into the action, but Rafe manages to snag your arm, shoving you out of the way. You stumble back, bumping your hip painfully into the boxes beside you.

Anger and hurt fills your vision and before you can understand what you're doing, your hand flies up to slap him across the face.

He barely flinches, his teeth gritting against the pain. "That the best you got?"

Tears sting your throat, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. "I don't even know you anymore."

Your whispered words are harsh, but Rafe is having a hard time focusing on anything other than the fact that the stinging in his cheek means you're here. But your hair is disheveled, and you have a nearly feral look in your eyes, so when Barry comes flying out of nowhere, he rushes forward to grab you.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he lifts you up easily, even as you claw at his back, before walking out of the hangar and throwing you onto the ground. 

Your palms hit the grass hard, and you smack the ground with an angry yell as Rafe rushes back inside. He knows you're going to hate him, and he knows he didn't have to be so harsh with you, but lately he hasn't been able to stop himself. 

"Stay down!" he orders as you clamber to your feet. "If you come back inside, I won't be so gentle."

He thought it was bad when he wasn't able to see you, but now that he has, it's somehow worse than ever. Every time you're within reach, he has to fight between the urges to rip you apart and crush you into himself, so you never leave.

Later, when he talks to his father about what he's been feeling inside of him, the response isn't what he wants or needs. When he finally admits that he may not be okay, that he doesn't think he can control the thoughts in his head anymore, Ward's instructions to "man up" go straight to his head, where nothing is truly safe anymore.

He thought he was obsessed with getting the gold, but when it was actually in reach, something still felt missing. The more he thinks about it, the more he finds himself fixating on one person.

***

"What happened earlier?" JJ asks you when the whole group returns to the chateau that night. "When Rafe carried you out?"

The question catches you off guard and you feel Sarah's apologetic gaze on you as you open your mouth to respond. "I have no idea."

JJ doesn't look convinced, and when Sarah tries to change the subject, he bulldozes over her. "I just don't get what's going on between you two. First, he's talking to you at the boardwalk, and then he's pulling you out of fights?"

It's not a question really, but the implication is startlingly clear. 

"What are you asking, JJ?" Pope warns, his eyes glancing between you two. "I don't think you're thinking this through. It's fucking Rafe we're talking about here. He's a monster, why would she have anything to do with him?"

His words ring through your ears like alarm bells and you can barely hear their argument over the noise. The sound gets louder and louder until you have to resist the urge to cover your ears.

"He's right."

It takes you a moment to realize those words came from you, but now that it's out, there's no going back.

Sarah says your name cautiously, but you shake your head, silencing her words.

"The guy I hooked up with my first summer on the island was Rafe," you say, your voice slowly growing in strength. "He's the guy I was talking about. And it wasn't just then."

Everyone except Sarah is looking at you like they've never seen you before. The shock and disgust on their faces mirrors what you felt the first time Rafe tried to hurt your friends, but with it being thrown back, you can't handle the pressure.

Tears blur your vision and you stalk out of the house, your feet taking you anywhere but here. The sound of voices yelling gets louder behind you, but you keep walking, your destination slowly becoming clearer the farther away you get.

Rafe is pulling into his driveway when you step onto the Cameron's property, and he throws his door open as soon as he notices you walking up.

"What's going on?" he asks as he slams the door shut and ushers you into the house. "Are you okay?"

You can't help but laugh, even as a few tears slip down your cheeks. "They know."

He knows what you're referring to without you having to explain, and he hesitantly steps forward, pulling you into a hug when you don't flinch. Your face presses into his hard chest and you glide your hands up his back, clutching the fabric of his tee shirt as you let out a small sob.

"They think I'm a monster," you whisper with a sniffle when you finally let go of him. 

He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "They're wrong. You have to know they're wrong."

"What if they aren't?"

He looks at you then, and that spark in your eyes starts to flicker again. "What are you trying to say, Boston?"

"I'm saying..." you start, dragging your words out, "that if they think I'm a monster, I might as well prove them right."

He frowns, following you into the living room. A large part of him is ready and willing for whatever piece of yourself you will give him, but a new, even larger part wants something else for you. Something better.

"Y/n," Rafe warns, his voice dangerously low, "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

Something akin to betrayal flashes across your eyes and your mouth presses into a line. "I thought you liked- I mean, I thought you-"

"I do," he states simply. "But you're so much better than me. You know that."

"I'm not," you shake your head, stepping forward. Your hands come up to rest on his chest and his breath hitches. "So shut up and fuck me."

He considers it for a moment but his mind makes the decision for him. His hands tangle into your hair and pull you forward, his lips attacking yours harshly.

He glides his tongue across the seam of your lips, but you pull back before he can go any further.

"Upstairs," you order, before pushing past him and heading up to his room.

You get to his bedroom right before he does, but when the door shuts behind you, he shoves you onto the bed, a snarl curling his lips. "You think you can order me around in my own house?"

You shrug as he climbs over you, his hands pressing into the bed beside your face. "Watch me."

Before he can lean down and kiss you again, you latch your legs around his waist and flip him over, so you're straddling him. He lets out a breathy chuckle that dies in his throat as soon as you begin grinding onto his lap. His cock has already started to harden, even with layers and layers of clothing between you two, and you use this momentary lapse in concentration to push him back onto the bed.

Before he can stop you, you undo the button on his pants and yank them down to his ankles. Reaching onto his bedside table, you grab one of the embroidered bracelets sitting on top and use it to pull your hair back into a ponytail.

His eyes darken with lust as you sink to your knees and take his cock in your hand, your fingers unconsciously gliding up and down the shaft.

You can't help but smile as you watch him lean back, his eyes already falling closed. "My turn."

His cock is sturdy in your hand, and you run your tongue up the shaft, taking your time now that you finally get to taste him. You loosen your fingers around him, swirling your tongue over the head, before slowly taking him into your mouth.

You can feel his eagerness as Rafe's hand runs over your hair, gathering it in his fist.

When he starts to push your head down, you lift your lips off his cock and shake your head. "Look who's impatient this time."

He snarls, tightening his grip on your hair. "Just fucking take me like a good girl."

"I thought you wanted me to be bad."

You slowly run your tongue up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, and he almost passes out from the sight. You look so innocent beneath him, and he wants to commit this image into his memory forever, but then you hollow your cheeks around him and every thought leaves his brain.

Your mouth is so warm and wet and he only opens his eyes again when he feels you moaning around him. Glancing down, he sees your hand disappear into your shorts, and he curses, his cock twitching between your lips.

He knows he won't last another minute like this, so he pulls back up, his hand letting go of your hair. He lifts you onto the bed, taking his time to take off your tank top and unbutton your shorts.

"You're beautiful," he states when you're finally bare in front of him, as though it's simply a fact.

His eyes meet yours in the darkness and you are suddenly struck with the desire to make this night last. You know this is the last time you will get to do this, and it doesn't escape you that he's been trying to savor each moment as well.

You take your time as you undo the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders once you've reached the bottom and laying it gently on the floor.

Rafe leans you back down and grins as he presses a kiss to your jaw. "Aren't you sweet."

"Shut up," you snipe, running your teeth over his lip as he comes back up to steal a kiss.

"So that's how you want to play this," he smirks, sucking a bruise into your neck.

His fingers still feel soft and gentle against your skin, and you wish you could get it into his head that even though this is probably the last time you will get to have him like this, you don't want it to be sweet. You want it to hurt. 

"I thought I told you to fuck me."

He chuckles into your skin, before sliding his hand under your knee and lifting your leg off the bed. Without any warning, he thrusts into you, forcing you to grit your teeth to avoid making a sound.

"You're so ready for me," Rafe smirks, his calloused hands gripping your waist, "and I've barely even touched you."

You gasp, your head falling back as the pressure becomes almost too much. "It's been a while."

"No, that's not it," he taunts, his body leaning down as his lips find yours. "You just haven't been fucked right since last time."

You hate that he's right. You had tried to get your fix by hooking up with the tourists during the summers, but it had done nothing to assuage the growing frustration in your gut. Because the only person on this island who can make you feel good is the one who brings out the worst in you.

He continues thrusting into you with a pace much faster than you're used to, bottoming out each time. He reaches down to sling an arm under your waist, lifting you up off the bed to change the angle, and a sharp cry escapes your throat against your volition.

"You gotta be quiet," he grunts, lifting you further to press his forehead to yours, "or you don't stop finishing until I say so."

Your brow furrows in confusion, but then he uses his other hand to grab the headboard and starts thrusting into you even faster than before. You tilt your head up, pressing a harsh kiss to his mouth in an effort to quiet the noises trying to escape, but when your release slams into you, you can't help the gasp that flies out.

Your legs clamp around him and he uses his strength to hold you up as your body melts from the pleasure overcoming you.

Your aftershocks haven't even slowed before he spins you around, so you're straddling him, and starts pounding up into you again. Your sensitive cunt spasms helplessly around him, but he doesn't stop, even as you hiss between your teeth.

"Rafe, please, it's too much," you gasp as he holds you up so you don't back onto the bed. "I can't-"

"I told you to stay quiet," he teases, his voice growing darker as he ups his pace again. "You knew the consequences."

Even as the bed shakes from the force of his motions, the pain eventually turns to pleasure again, and you can feel your next release sneaking up on you.

He wraps your hair around his fist, giving it a quick tug for good measure, but the way your pussy squeezes around him makes him pause. "You like that, don't you?"

His grip tightens and you nod slowly, bringing your eyes back to his. His pupils darken and you feel another gush of wetness start to drip down your thighs. Your scalp stings, but you relish the pain, letting it mix in with the pleasure between your legs.

Rafe can already feel you tightening around him again, and he lifts his head to watch as your eyes screw shut, overcome by the feeling of his cock driving into you.

You look heavenly as you near the edge of the abyss, and he slides his hand down between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. It only takes a few tweaks before you fly off the edge again, your mouth falling open with a silent scream.

Your body shakes from the force of the second orgasm and he can't hold off any longer. Pressing his face into the crook of your neck, he lets out a gasp as he finds his own seemingly never-ending release. All of the energy leaves his body as he watches you fall apart under him, and he finds that he can no longer lie to himself about how he feels.

Reality quickly comes crashing in, and you realize that you don't have any idea how to move forward. Whatever you feel for him will never be enough, no matter how hard you may try to convince yourself otherwise.

Rafe watches you get dressed, his eyes trailing over the bare expanses of your skin, as if committing it to memory. He wasn't raised like his siblings, and the voice in the back of his mind that tells him to never let you leave reminds him of a childhood he never quite managed to unlearn.

He never did learn how to do what was right, but if he is going to do right by one thing, that might as well be you.

[love-toxin]

Are you writing for DMC now? If so, would you consider doing the smut alphabet for V? Your post about V just put me back into DMC’s chokehold omgg

OFC!!! i certainly am and i certainly will for my sweet emo husband <333

V - (a-z)

(cws: gn pronouns, switch!v, mild spit kink, roleplay, body worship/general worshipper complex, teasing, power switching, cockwarming, jealousy, a little somno)

A = Aftercare

Taking care of you after the act is very important to him. Sex in itself is sacred to him, he doesn't downplay the sentiment of you sharing your body with him (and such a beautiful one at that) so he spends quite a lot of time ensuring that you're warm, clean, comfortable, and safe above all else. The only problem is that he's usually completely wiped out after having made love, especially if it was a little rougher than usual or went a little longer, so he has to duck out of the way of your caring hands as you try to get him to sit down and just relax--he is absolutely fine, darling, he promises not to keel over so soon. He would love to have your hands on him in any other situation, but he's determined to provide for you in this area, so you'll just have to watch for once as he stumbles and braces himself especially hard on his cane as he moves to warm up a bath for you.

B = Bondage

Bondage isn't really all that for him, and for good reasons: he likes having your hands on him, and what if he ends up not being able to get you out when you're done? Or hurts you? He'll steer clear of it save for the really gentle stuff--he'd probably be okay with handcuffs, for example, because he could get you out of them fairly easily--although he'd probably be more okay with you tying him up if you end up liking that more. He's not afraid of you getting a little rough with him, after all.

C = Cum

As sensitive as his body can be, it actually takes him quite a long time to cum. It's a little annoying for him when he's alone, since he can't get off as easily and he's honestly not terribly sure how to do it properly--but that means he's usually a bit backed up, so the cum he does release is pretty thick and completely opaque with that pearlescent shade of cream. It's quite satisfying to see that splattered all over your face, or leaking out of you when he's finished and tapping out, and he likes that you think it's especially attractive and when you beg him to give you a nice, big load he's got saved up. His tattoos glow a little when he orgasms, too, which is pretty fascinating to watch. However, he's quick to get a little meek when Griffin comes out later blabbing V's ear off about "feeling more chilled out than usual", and he has to bite his tongue while you laugh, hoping his companions don't think about it too deeply before the chattiest one never lets him live the truth down.

E = Experience

D = Dirty Secret

It takes a while before he feels comfortable enough to introduce the idea, but he really wants to try having you cockwarm him while he reads from his poetry book aloud. Whether by sitting on his lap or having you on your knees while he's nestled deep in your throat, he wants to stroke your hair and praise you between lines as he reads through his favourite poems and feels you trying not to squirm, so you don't distract him. If you do, though, he'll just close his book and insist on you getting all that energy out of your system, and sit back while you ride him all on your own or choke him down to the base until either of you have finished--and then he can go right back to reading, either with his cum leaking out of you and down into his lap, or spilling down your throat for you to whimper and try to swallow without distracting him again.

Obviously he's got very little experience, at least consciously--he probably has a few inklings of muscle memory left over from you-know-who, so his instincts are probably a little better than you would expect. But V still likes to be shown what you enjoy, and he wants to learn from the source how to please you. So a little handholding in the beginning is necessary for him to grasp how his darling likes to be touched.

F = Favourite Position

He likes any position that has you on top of him, particularly when you're riding him and he can rest his hands on your waist to steady you. Not only does it leave little room for him to lose steam and end up disappointing you when he collapses, but he loves to worship you from below and gaze up at you like you're an angel that's descended on him straight from the heavens. That's where you belong, you know: above him, above the world, because you're the most precious thing to have ever graced it.

G = Gloat

You want him to be mean? He can be mean....if you piss him off for real. You hate how protective he is? How he doesn't want you killing demons, even if it's literally your job? How he's an idiot if he thinks you can't protect yourself without him? That's a one-way ticket to earning yourself a hand on your throat and a glower that could cut you when he's got you pinned to a wall. One moan trickling out your mouth immediately catches him on to your little game, and just when you thought you had him wrapped around your finger completely, he's dropping you to fall to your knees and bringing his cane around to stick it between them. He holds it firm and nestles it right up in that sweet spot--and all you have to do to improve his mood is make yourself cum. You can do that, can you not? Or maybe you'll save your dignity and just admit that maybe, just maybe, you can't do everything by yourself.

H = Hair

The hair he's got is sparse, but a more important detail about his hair is what he likes to do with it. He loves having his hair pulled, and he can't pinpoint exactly what's so attractive about it, but whatever it is it makes his back arch and his arms shake whenever you give those black locks a good tug. He likes when you play with it too, when you smooth it away from his face, tuck it behind his ear, wash it, run your fingers through it--no matter how much Griffin makes fun of him for it, V will lay his head in your lap and let you touch his hair even when there's people around. It's impossible to help how good it feels, and the smile and the earnest "You look so handsome, honey!" when he asks you how you feel about it when it turns white just fills his heart with so much warmth.

I = Intoxication

Oh, he doesn't drink, but he's more than happy to care for you when you're stumbling over yourself. It's a little difficult when you're unsteady on your feet but when he gets you into bed, it's exponentially easier to watch over you. And each time you make a reach for him, or tug at his pants with a lusty whisper in his ear, he sweetly thanks you for the compliment with a chuckle before gently laying you back down. He's only got so much energy to spare day to day, and he'd much rather use it when you're sober rather than when you won't remember much.

J = Jack off

As aforementioned, V is a little less experienced in the self-pleasure aspect. He hasn't had much time or much thought in his head to masturbate, so if and when he does, he's a little....unsure. Pair that with the fact that it takes him awhile to cum, and he's usually burnt out and frustrated rather than relieved when he finally gives up. It honestly makes him a little wary about being intimate with you before you try it for the first time together, because he's worried he'll make it into an absolute disaster that ends in neither of you getting off. Thankfully, he soon realizes that not only is that not the case, but that the journey is often times even more exhilarating than the destination.

K = Kiss

Kisses! What a wonderful thing. V absolutely cannot get enough of them--each one has him blushing, smiling, eager for more, and that only escalates in an intimate setting. He could lay you down and kiss every inch of your body for an eternity, to study your reactions every time he kisses a more intimate or sensitive spot is a complete dream to him. He memorizes the places you like to be kissed the most, and he totally demolishes you there with his mouth as he makes love to you. If he could, he would get a tattoo of your kiss marks all over his skin, just to feel like you've always left those pretty stains on him and that you're with him wherever he goes.

L = Lazy

Less so laziness, moreso not having the strength or the energy to get up and get moving--he has more of those days than the average man, and he has endless apologies for not being able to fend for himself as he should. He's really not used to how sweet you can be about it, how you offer to close the distance for him--how you touch him under his clothes as you perch in his lap, whispers racing shivers up his spine as his head tilts back and he submits himself to be at your mercy. On those days nothing feels better than being at your beck and call, and letting you dominate him however you wish.

M = Marking

Speaking of marking, he loves that shit. Marking him, marking you, doesn't matter--he's got some inner desire that's immediately sated when he sees you or himself donned in each other's marks. Whether it's lipstick stains, bruises, bites, hickies, or even cum, V loves it so much he practically craves it. He has no shame about walking around with your mark on him and if he sees you doing the same, or even just rubbing those spots that he knows he left bruises or bites in your skin, he gets all riled up and does a lot of shifting and throat clearing until he can slip away and get you into the closest area of privacy for a little alone time.

N = CNC

Much like bondage, it doesn't really strike him as being his thing. Honestly, he dislikes the idea of you not wanting him period....but that doesn't mean he's not willing to give it a try if you'd like him to, because he's pretty good at playing the part. And the one fantasy he kinda likes is one that plays on the whole "Demons and Hunters" idea, where one of you is the demon wreaking havoc and the other is the hunter sent to destroy them. Whether the demon is dominant or the hunter is and whoever you two end up playing, it's usually a pretty good time to get straddled or to hold you down as he whispers about "reforming your fiendish ways", all while you both fight for dominance so you can take whatever you want from the other. Plus, he gets to see that sweet face of yours twist up with emotion whether it's in victory or defeat, which is by far his favourite part.

O = Oral

He definitely does not have a preference because it blows his mind whether he's giving or receiving, but he also has no preference for what he's going down on, either. He's fascinated by what you look like down there, he's got that urge inside him to explore and to discover all those things about you that only he's permitted to see, so practically anything about you is cause for his intrigue. Whether you have hair or don't, what kind of reactions you show him when he kisses his way down your inner thighs, whether you buck into him or shyly squeeze your eyes shut....goodness, you're just so perfect in every way, he could have you on his tongue for hours and never get bored of watching you cum for him. Somehow, even when you're the one sucking him off, he can end up switching it so you're the one on your back and he's the one with his head between your legs.

P = Panties

Q = Quickie

Stealing your underwear? No, of course, he would never do that....he professes it so smugly, and yet he'll turn around and you'll spot a little blot of colour peeking out from his back pocket, knowing fully well that it's yours and he's saving it for later. V's not a rampant panty thief by any means, but he certainly steals a pair every so often either to tease you, or because he genuinely misses you. Or, sometimes, if you're mad at him or he's mad at you--holding those up to his mouth and smelling them a little instantly gives him a head rush, and stirs his groin as he thinks only of you. Sometimes it's the quickest way to get over those little arguments and squabbles.

Usually V doesn't engage in a quickie unless you're the one encouraging it. He likes to think he can keep his composure even under duress and he does, but if his sweet angel needs him so badly you're tugging on his arm and whimpering even when there's people within earshot, he's certainly not going to be the one to turn you away. It's hard to get him to speed things up like that since he likes going slow, but if you take control a little bit then you'll be happy to see that he's prepared to do whatever it takes to get you off, even if it means making a fool of himself and looking heavily disheveled when you rejoin your companions.

R = Risk

Honestly, he's not risking much during sex other than his bodily health and his exhaustion. You can pretty much do whatever you want without worry, because not only is he completely devoted to you and therefore has little to no chance of catching anything, but he can't exactly....produce anything, with him not really being completely human. So pregnancy isn't too much of an issue, and he hasn't ever really had space to think about it, so as long as you're still comfortable with it he's more than happy to do it unprotected as often as you want. Of course the only thing he could be risky with is his health, so if he's having a pretty good pain day and he's in the mood, he might ask if you want to try ruining him tonight--just doing it over and over and over until he literally can't move, and you can pretty much just use him for your pleasure in whatever way you wish. It's a rare pleasure, but a pleasure for him all the same when it's with you.

S = Spit

Spitting on you he can certainly do, but spitting in you is objectively even more arousing to him. He loves that moment when he's getting ready to slide in, pushing your legs back or pulling your mouth open to lean over and spit directly inside--it's dirty and it's filthy and it makes him feel like you're his. When you moan in reply it makes him feel powerful, makes him feel wanted, and he just loses his mind when you turn right around and do the same thing to him; spit on his tongue or the tip of his cock before you start lapping at it. And when you're kissing, all sloppy and needy as you're taking his cock, and you both break away to find a trail of spit connecting your swollen lips? That's something that could make him cum so hard his whole world blurs out and he just has to cling to you and bury his face in your chest as he paints your insides white.

T = Toys

He pretends to be uninterested when you whip something like that out, perhaps even unimpressed. But if you like something, he truly can't ignore it, even though he will tease you about it until you give him a reason to shut that pretty mouth of his. "Why would I have need an artifact such as that, when I have the most delightful-hrk!" He certainly bites his tongue when you ease your new fleshlight down on the tip of his stiff cock, and very quickly help him realize there's a whole world of sensations he's never experienced--but he's going to, if you have anything to say about it. Even if he moans and whines about you fucking him with it and making him waste a cumshot inside that stupid toy, rather than inside the warm, welcoming, angelic walls of the love of his life.

U = Unfair

He's a little unfair sometimes, he's gotta balance out all that worship he's so prone to giving you, after all. He might tease you about being needy, or for staring at him when you think he's not looking, or he'll even get cocky enough to tease you when you're right on the edge and ask you to tell him just how much you want it while you're trembling on his cock. It's so cute when you whine and take it and relent into begging him for what you want, but he likes it just as much when it pisses you off and you manhandle him for it--pushing him up against a wall or pinning his wrists down while you're sat in his lap, and either groping him and mocking him for getting hard, or riding him so roughly he gasps and his hips ache while you throw his words back in his face.

V = Volume

Surprisingly, he's not terribly loud. One would think he'd have trouble controlling his volume, but he's naturally pretty soft-spoken and he's usually not too bad at keeping himself in check when he needs to. That means you might not always catch what he says, though, but you can assume it's usually something along the lines of "I love you, please keep going, you're such an angel, I'll give you everything forever, you feel like heaven on my skin," if not some poetry he's kept in mind when he read it and thought of you.

W = Wildcard

Despite having at least some respect for Dante, V is wildly jealous of him and despises any moment you spend around him, even if he's with you. You can only assume where that comes from, but either way you can use it for your benefit if your beloved pisses you off or if you just want attention from him that you're not getting. Let Dante flirt with you for a little bit, and V will be on top of you the second you're alone with an incredible kind of strength you seldom ever see. That's an occasion where you'll most likely be sneaking away with a limp and have to cover up the marks he leaves for days.

X = X-Ray

It's both adorable and shocking that V thinks he's not that big, especially since he's absolutely a shower over a grower. He's pretty long but not all slender, his cock has a curve upwards when it's stiff and the tip takes on that pretty, purplish hue when he's really needy--he's also got a few visible veins running up the length of it that are even more sensitive than he is, and although he makes it out to be not a big deal, he can't help the smugness that fills his head when he lowers you down on him that first time and sees the way you gasp and flinch as you try to adjust. If you make any comments about how you can feel him stretching you out, or that he's so deep you swear he's shaping you to fit his cock alone, it's a surefire way to have V melting like putty in your hands and giving you absolutely whatever you want.

Z = Zzz

Y = Yearning

When does V not desire you? The answer is never. You're the person who makes him feel loved, and he always feels so protected from the world whenever he's with you. Expressing that adoration he has for you can only be done in the same few ways before he has to intensify it--reading poetry and speaking sweet words to you only go so far, they don't express it completely, and when he feels he needs to show it more is when you have the sweetest, most intense sharing of souls and bodies that you may ever experience in this life.

Seeing you sleep next to him, completely at ease and comfortable in his presence, is a triumph that he never takes for granted. Never once has he thought he'd have such deep, pure love as the kind he has with you, so to see it shown in such a humble and vulnerable way makes him feel as though he has the whole world in his arms. So if you give him permission to entertain himself while you're in that most vulnerable state, V is beyond flattered--but when he does take you up on your offer, he almost always ensures he does so just before he knows you're going to wake up. It's such a privilege to make love to you at any time, but it's far more indulging to get to see those reactions of yours when you wake up to him kissing those precious spots between your legs. Or, even better, hovering over you with shaky breaths as he confesses his love, just before pressing himself inside to creampie you right as you're waking up.

[arcadiabaytornado]

Live Playing Double Exposure First Thoughts:

A: Okay, I do love that you can pick Max’s outfit right away. I chose the rainbow sweater.

B: This sounds over dramatic but it was so intense to see Max’s face again. For a very brief moment I was 13 again watching Max wake up in the storm.

C: Am I insane or all the sounds in this game like���muffled?? I have my audio settings all the way up so it’s not that. Speaking of settings I also took the motion blur off and the graphics look so much now.

More Undercut

D: I’m already finding it super interesting that Max finds comfort in the destruction of old buildings after hell week. That could mean a lot of things but I’ll wait to see if the game tells me before I get analytical.

E: I love Safiya already. PLEASE let her be a love interest.

F: I do love the camera mechanism!!!!

G: Max lost her powers after hell week? That’s also super interesting holy shit. I’d love to know more about that, though my guess is that Max maybe completed her purpose with her power and therefore lost it? I wonder what that would mean for Daniel and Alex….

H: I’m trying to not to think of Chloe to much, but man she would have loved an old abandoned bowling alley.

I: Getting used to older Max is an adjustment. She doesn’t feel out of character per se, but it is weird because I keep expecting her to act like her eighteen year old self and then she doesn’t because she’s older now.

J: Older Max is already coming off as a lot more confident/reckless than younger Max. I like that change a lot!

K: I don’t know how I feel about Max making a one liner every time I examine anything.

L: Ah fuck. Is fate after Safiya or Max this time.

M: Did they really put the “We will :)” flashback right before making us confirm that Max and Chloe broke up. I’m going to fight Decknine.

N: Max is never beating the autism allegations.

O: I know people are upset at the “high school sweetheart” line but in context it seems like Max is trying to deflect the conversation to not talk about what Chloe actually was to her.

P: The texts between Max and Chloe were so uncomfortable to read. I know the storm changed them both, but….i don’t know…it just seems weird that Chloe reacted like that to Max wanting to move in with her permanently. I’m getting the vibe that their relationship was mentally and emotionally over on Chloe’s end way before it was on Max’s end.

Q: Max is ghosting her parents now and that devastates me.

R: Can I have a middle ground option on Amanda? I’m not ready for Max to have a huge crush yet, but I wouldn’t say she’s not Max’s type.

S: Okay, the Chloe/Victoria thing seems like fanfiction. It’s the only thing so far that I’ve gone “ugh” at.

T: The Vortex Club parallel is not lost on me.

U: I’m sorry but Max’s eyes look so bad…she also looks like she had a different model from every other character for some reason??

V: I’m just going for it and saying “A date thing” If Safiya is a romance choice later on I’m going to be so mad. But that’s what other saves are for.

W: Hearing Chloe’s name is a jump-scare at this point lmao.

X: I’m loving Moses. He’s so awkward and seems really sweet. Which makes me scared he’ll be the killer because the LIS franchise does not let us have nice things.

Y: I don’t even know how Max is SUPPOSED to talk about what she’s running from regardless if she sacrificed Chloe or the Bay.

Z: I wonder if they’re going to give Max’s power a celestial explanation and that’s what’s with all the solar system imagery.

[kastlequill]

i/v. ‘til my pulse loses time: pulsus bisferiens

pairing: kyle gaz garrick x f!reader word count: 1.3k synopsis: the first time you save gaz tags: whumptober, gunshot wounds, blood and injury, wound tending, hurt/comfort, medic!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: none ao3: read here next →

I.

Tuesdays were unremarkable. They couldn’t compare to the infamous Mondays or halfway-mark Wednesdays, to anticipatory Thursdays or the thank-God-it’s Fridays, least of all to the relaxing Saturdays and Church-going Sundays.

The new orders you received last Tuesday, however, were anything but plain. There was nothing ordinary about getting shipped out to a classified location to provide aid to the soldiers injured during their classified missions to eliminate classified targets.

You knew next to nothing about your current assignment. High command had informed you that you’d be working as the lead on-site medic, tending to the wounded and assisting in their recovery to the best of your abilities. That was all your superiors had felt the need to tell you.

The base of operation was fairly sizable, well stocked, and even had a couple other medical personnel around to help too, so you couldn’t really complain. You’d primarily be dealing with soldiers who were designated as special operators, and, in your experience, those types made absolute dogshit patients. Only a single week had passed, yet you could already tell that some of the lot were more injury-prone than others.

A specific British SAS sergeant came to mind.

Your first time meeting him had been relatively benign; he’d entered the mess hall as you exited. Although speedily heading in different directions, he had nonetheless offered a casual salute, and you had returned his gesture with a nod of your own. Simple, polite. No fuss.

The exact opposite of how he arrived to you today, the second Tuesday of the month.

Two towering men flanked him on either side as they shouldered their half-conscious comrade into your medbay. With them came chaos. Thick English accents yelling for a medic, combat boots storming toward you, dragging in a trail of blood. They brought war to your feet and Death to your door.

Rushing over to them, you quickly scanned the sergeant’s body for damage. Preliminary assessments yielded speculative results at best: a tourniquet around his thigh told of prior heavy bleeding, and the sway of his head meant he wasn’t fully capable of supporting its weight. But nothing was certain. 

“What am I dealing with here? Concussion, gunshot wound, broken bones—?”

“—got caught in the blast radius,” interrupted a gruff voice belonging to the masked lieutenant. “Knocked ‘im back a few meters. No major visible injuries, ‘cept a bullet to the leg.” 

You swore. “Is it still inside?” 

Exit wounds typically offered a better prognosis; the energy driving forth a gunshot needed somewhere to go, and, preferably, that somewhere was far from surrounding organs or internal systems. If the piece of metal remained lodged inside of him, then you would have to remove it.

He answered with a single definitive nod. Unsurprising; of course nothing in war ever turned out for the better.

“Put him on my table. Carefully.” 

The two soldiers hauled their brother-in-arms up onto the examination table that had seen more action within a week than most ever did. Trauma to the head required immediate attention; the brain was a delicate organ, and if the explosion had badly jostled it against the walls of his skull, there could be severe damage.

Unwilling to waste a second longer, you gently parted the now-supine man’s eyelids with your fingertips to get a look at his pupils. In the midst of an unfocused sea of brown, one pupil was more dilated than the other—concussed, then. At the intensity of the blue overhead light, he reflexively squinted and shut his eyes once more.

That wouldn’t do. “Sergeant, I need you to open those eyes again, okay? Think you can track this flashlight for me?”

Being as sensitive to brightness as he was currently, it took some effort for him to pry his eyes open. They valiantly fought the urge to close whilst following the stick-end of your black flashlight from left to right, right to left. There was some unsteady shakiness to their movement, but they still appeared properly calibrated.

“You’re doing great,” you encouraged, holding his gaze as you pocketed the light. The next course of action was to check his processing of visual information. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

He blinked slowly, an inquisitive frown contorting his features. Several confusion-riddled seconds elapsed until the man decided to simply feel what he could not see. Grasping your hand in his own, he grazed your knuckles with a calloused thumb, explored the lengths of your raised fingers, puzzled out how they were configured into the shape of a peace sign. Recognition sparked in his eyes.

“Two.”

An endeared smile graced your lips. The only predictable constant in this profession was its unpredictability. None of your previous patients had done that before.

“Try again.” You lightly pulled your hand free and watched his own fall back to rest on his chest, physically unable to sustain the lifted position. Unfurling your ring finger to join your index and middle, three total fingers hovered in front of his face, just out of reach. “How many do you see now?”

Without using his sense of touch to determine the correct number, all the sergeant could do was sigh and reply honestly. “Six.”

“Y’can’t be serious, Gaz. The limit’s five,” his mohawked companion corrected, a hint of incredulity and amusement slipping into his tone.

“Quit taking the piss, we’ve got ten of ‘em.” The words were slurred, but intelligible. As he spoke, his brows began to furrow, the man suddenly unsure of himself. He looked at the captain, whose belated entrance managed to diffuse some of the anxiety present in the room. “Right, sir?”

The room erupted with noise as the three other soldiers simultaneously began to talk over each other. You were able to catch the occasional bloody hell and heard yes, Gaz, that’s right and even chuckled a bit at no need to worry, you still ‘ave all ten of the little bastards.

Military folk had a specific way of coping with the consequences of war, and you didn’t think you would ever quite understand it from your side of the line. But if it worked, then it worked. What mattered was the patient’s ability to persist in spite of the world; the exact methods used to do so weren’t up for scrutiny, not by you or anyone else.

Donning a clean pair of surgical gloves, you exchanged glances with the technician and nurse on duty. “Get him a CT scan. Let’s make sure his brain’s in one piece, then we can deal with the bullet. I’ll prep the OR.”

When you made to leave, a tug on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. A quick turn of your head revealed the image of his loose yet insistent grip around you once again, unwilling to let go of what had seemingly become his sole anchorage to the land of the living.

“Don’t worry,” you said softly, squeezing his hand in yours. This—comforting the wounded—was as much a part of the healing process as medicine itself. Even the toughest of soldiers reverted to a childlike state of vulnerability after too close a brush with death. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

The tension in his features relaxed as did his hold on you, and he lowered himself to lay flat on the table’s surface before being wheeled away by the technician. As you watched his form disappear beyond the threshold of a plastic curtain, you were struck with a near-overwhelming sense of foreboding.

Though you hoped this Gaz wouldn’t soon return with an irremediable injury, optimism had never been your strong suit.

tbc.

[preggomancer]

Tulip holds up another hanger, waving it at her boyfriend, and he raises a brow. 

“Once again, I feel that you have fundamentally misunderstood the purpose of this trip,” Alan monotones. 

Tulip giggles, looking at the frilly pink top she’s pulled from the clothing rack. “Sorry, sorry. I just think it’s cute!”

Rolling his eyes, Alan goes back to leafing through the sales rack. His mission in coming here–and to the five other stores they’ve slogged through already today–is failing miserably. At five months pregnant, he’s already outgrown much of his wardrobe, and it won’t be long before he’s left with nothing but a few extra-stretchy shirts and maybe some pajama pants. So here he is, trying to achieve the apparently monumental task of finding clothes that will both fit him and not make him feel like shit. 

The problem is, of course, Alan’s a guy. A trans guy who started T just a couple months before getting pregnant and having his entire life trajectory thrown off the rails. He’ll be fine–he knows he’ll be fine. It won’t be easy, but if anyone can manage college as a single dad, it’s him. What he can’t handle, right now, is being pregnant. He knows he’s never really passed. Puberty left him with unwanted curves, an ample chest and wide hips. He’s been counting on T and top surgery for years, and now, right when he could finally start, he’s being flooded with the exact opposite hormones in his system, a milk-swollen chest, and the prospect of even wider hips after he gives birth. 

He could handle it, he thinks, if he could just find a single goddamn masc maternity shirt. 

It takes him about ten seconds to rifle through the skimpy XL rack. Maternity selections are never particularly robust, but for someone like Alan–fat and six feet tall–finding anything besides the same ugly gray V-necks and garish floral blouses appears to be impossible. 

“Ooh! This is cute!”

Alan looks up to see Tulip once again holding up exactly what he’s not looking for. “Tulip. Babe. Darling. Love of my life. Please.” 

“Sorry, I know, not what we’re here for, but look!” Tulip holds the bright green crop top to her chest, its bottom draping sweetly over her own baby bump. She looks down. “Um, okay, maybe not. This is not a very Tulip-core print.” 

Alan laughs. “Why not? It’s cute! It’s got limes!” 

“Well sure, you’d say that, because it is Alan-core.” 

“Yeah, sure, I guess.” Alan grimaces, looking at the sad selection in front of him. Maybe he’ll have to spend the next few months in baggy gym shirts, after all. “Now if you could just put that pattern on a T-shirt and give it some extra belly room, that would be great.” 

“Or,” Tulip says, sidling up next to Alan, “you could just try this on.” 

“Wh–” Alan turns to face her. “Okay, first of all, that’s your size–”

“It’s stretchy!” 

“And second of all, I’m looking for shirts that make me look like a dude, and that’s explicitly not even remotely that.”

“Yes.” Tulip nods solemnly. “But also, maybe, I just think that my very attractive boyfriend would look hot in a too-small crop top.” 

“That’s–” Alan starts to argue, then glances at the maternity rack, and stops himself. “Okay, you know what? I need a fucking break. Where’s the dressing room?”

“Yessssss,” Tulip cheers quietly. 

Yanking the hanger out of Tulip’s hands, Alan marches into the closest dressing room stall and instructs her to wait. He examines the garment. It’s one of those stretchy, low-cut spaghetti strap pieces, the kind that’s made for skinny women on Pinterest to show off their B-cups and sucked-in stomachs. Not for a fat, busty trans guy with a stretch-marked baby bump. He doubts they even make them at his size. 

He reaches to take off his shirt, and realizes with embarrassment that his top has started to ride up, showing the bottom of his belly and gathering right below his bra. How long has he been walking around like that? He yanks it off, trying not to look too hard at his reflection as he puts on the dumb crop top. 

Given that it’s several sizes too small, it certainly doesn’t have the loose, boxy fit it’s supposed to, but when Alan looks in the mirror he’s surprised to see it… kind of works. The ribbed fabric pulls across his heavy chest, only just covering his bra, leaving most of his cleavage on display. (Cleavage that’s already much deeper than it was five months ago, and only getting worse.) He meant to throw the dumb thing on and get a little laugh from Tulip, but instead, he finds himself staring at his reflection. 

Back when he was trying desperately to be a cis girl, he wanted so badly to look like those skinny Pinterest girls. He’s always been fat, since he was being scolded in grade school for eating the same candy all the other kids got plenty of, since the school nurse told him to exercise more even though he was the star of the softball team. It was only when he realized that he would never look like them, would never be skinny and petite and girly and swoon after the annoying sporty guys, that he finally accepted that, under every box he’d shoved himself into, he didn’t actually want to. 

And somehow, right now, wearing this dumb crop top, it feels… good? To take the toxic femininity he felt for so long he had to achieve, and throw it on his fat, trans, pregnant body feels like a rebellion. It hasn’t been long since his doctor warned him to stop binding if he wanted any chance of breastfeeding, and until now, seeing how his bust pulls at every shirt has made him feel like hunching over and burying himself in blankets. But somehow, looking at it on display, outlined by this much too-tight little top, it feels right.

Suddenly, a flutter of movement distracts him, a kick from inside Alan’s heavy belly. He puts a hand to his bump, rubbing it, smiling when he feels another flutter in response. And he realizes: he’s been scared to look in the mirror, scared to be seen, because he’s been so worried what everyone will see is a pregnant woman. He was wrong. In the mirror in front of him are the wide hips, tits, and the big, round belly of a man. And the fact that he can look like this, curvy and pregnant and milky and still know beyond a doubt exactly who he is, makes him feel pretty damn good. 

Behind Alan comes a knock at the stall door. “Alan?” he hears Tulip say. “You don’t really have to wear that thing. Sorry, I was just being silly.” 

Throwing his jacket over his shoulders to make it feel more him, Alan turns and opens the door. 

Tulips eyes widen. “Oh. Okay. I was extremely right, actually.” 

Alan smiles. “Yeah, you were.” He turns back, giving his bare-bellied curves one last look. 

“You ready to go?” He asks. “I think I’ve picked out everything I needed.” 

[the-writer-of-spells]

What is Numerology?

Numerology is a pretty old technique that uses numbers to assess the character and destiny of any given person. It can also be used to check the nature of a new pet, business, and anything else with a name and/or a start/birth date. This can also be paired with a simple form of astrology for more accurate predictions, or used on its own. A simple search on the Britannica website for ‘numerology’ will give you an extremely short article. But, I pulled the following quote from there: “The theory behind numerology is based on the Pythagorean idea that all things can be expressed in numerical terms because they are ultimately reducible to numbers.” 

However, numerology was practiced in Ancient India (in the Vedas) and China (in the I Ching) which were, coincidentally, before Pythagoras/the Pythagorean Brotherhood’s time. But, since the way Pythagoras taught his method of using numerology seemed to have truly stuck with most other cultures around the world, this way of numerology is the most accessible. The ancient Greeks, Romans, and Hebrews also used number systems based on the letters of their alphabet; but the numbers we have today came from the Arabs.

Let’s get to the fun part!

How do I use Numerology?

So, Numerology in my opinion, is the absolute easiest form of divination. Just remember to take notes as you go, and you’ll be fine! 

Or, you can reach out for help from someone you trust that knows numerology; or you can reach out to literally anyone on the internet willing to teach this, but be careful with that one… I believe knowledge should be free, but that’s not the case with a few other people, I’ve heard. So if they ask for a payment, make sure you’ve truly looked at their blog/page. If their vibe doesn’t sit right with you, don’t do it. Money can make good people funny. And not in a good way.

Okay! Let’s get back to this topic. How do I/you use numerology? Super easy. There are two SUPER common types of numbers, and they are usually the first thought in people’s head when they think about Numerology as a whole. They are the Destiny and Life Path numbers!

The difference between these numbers is that the Destiny number shows your life’s purpose and the pattern by which you’ll achieve that, and the Life’s Path number is usually used to make forecasts about one's future. 

I’ll make a separate post on what the numbers 1—9 mean, because that’s what we’re going to be working with for right now; but in the meantime, let me explain what you’ll need to figure out your numbers!!

Materials:

Your Full Name

Your Date of Birth

Pen/pencil

Paper

Calculator (optional)

It’s not a super complex mathematical formula that we’ll be using, just some basic addition!

Also!! If you are transgender, or nonbinary; or you’ve changed your name for any reason—PLEASE use the name YOU HAVE CHOSEN for yourself! If you’re comfortable with it too, you can also use the old/dead name to compare the potential outcomes of your life! If you’re not too comfortable with that, don’t sweat it!

Okay, so you’ve got your materials; cool beans, now what? You’re now going to assign the letters of the alphabet numbers!

Instructions: 

Write the numbers 1—9 across the width of the paper. So you’re going to write out:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9, making sure they’re spaced out enough to write in columns beneath them and not have things overlapping. For ease of reading!

Put the letters beneath the numbers in the order I have listed:

A,J,S under 1.

B,K,T under 2

C,L,U under 3

D,M,V under 4

E,N,V under 5

F,O,X under 6

G,P,Y under 7

H,Q,Z under 8

I,R under 9.

Now, spell out your FULL NAME!! 1st, middle (if you have it), last and anything after that! You’re now going to add up the numbers! I like to keep my number in three separate rows, so my first name has one, middle the second, and last the third line.. Just for the sake of keeping things readable/not too overwhelming.

My numbers, just because I don’t want to give my full name out on the internet; are:

24, 29, 29. But! We need one number between 1 and 9. If you do 24+29(2)=82, you can then simplify my numbers to: 8+2=10, 1+0=1.

What we did here was we found our Destiny number. Pretty neat right?

Let’s do our life path number as well.

Get your birthday written out, it doesn't matter if you use the UK, US, or any other style of writing out dates, because they will always add up to the same number!

Mine is: 12/20/2003. I’ve got it pretty easy, because there’s a bunch of 0’s in mine and I’m working with small numbers.

1+2+2+0+2+0+0+3=10, 1+0=1. And BOOM! We have our life path number as well. 

So, before this post gets crazy long; I hope you have a wonderful day, and I’ll be posting the meanings of the numbers 1—9 with three posts; because I have a lot to say! Bye!!

Further Reading/my Sources:

Britannica, The Editors of Encyclopaedia. "numerology". Encyclopedia Britannica, 25 May. 2023, https://www.britannica.com/topic/numerology. Accessed 1 October 2023.

[nosolaceofastraightanswer]

[disclaimer. this post was from a handful of months ago but it prob still applies. it’s also pretty angry!! sorry abt that lol. i do realize that most people doing this aren’t aware or trying to be malicious. it’s kind of a rant post. originally i wasn’t gonna post it but my mutual said i should lol. anyway here it is]

okay the cross tagging in the tua fandom has gotten way out of hand. i’m just really frustrated right now because this is ridiculous. if you want someone to see your post, tag it correctly. don’t add a bunch of random fandom related tags about characters that aren’t even mentioned just so you can get more notes.

there is actually a Reason for this alright? it’s not just rules for the sake of rules. when you tag in an unrelated tag, it clogs it up with posts that aren’t related (stay w me here). so if someone’s looking through their favorite character’s tag they don’t want to see a random incorrect quote in the general fandom NOT EVEN MENTIONING THE CHARACTER. when it gets really intense, it’s difficult to even find posts that mention the character (cough cough the ben hargreeves tag cough cough)

tagging is an organization system that helps people find stuff. you are making it ineffective and frustrating to use by crosstagging. please stop.

pls do not:

-tag “character a” in a post about “character b” and “character c” because they are all in the same show/book/video game etc

-tag an incorrect quotes post with every character in the fandom. (you know who you are. yes i’m targeting iq acc’s because they do this A LOT but lots of ppl do it!!)

-tag a general post about tua with the characters (this one has nuance, like many other things in the world. just use your best judgement like i trust you!!!)

also usually i wouldn’t tag a fandom post about fictional characters with the actors that play them??? like it would have to be a v specific situation so idk why people do this. you are not writing analysis of emmy raver lampman?? hello??

anyway lmk if you have any more tips. i’m not the tagging police (ACAB) so take everything i say with a grain of salt because i am not the ruler of the tua fandom or tumblr! i’m just seeing a problem in this community that i know other people are bothered by. alr live your life just be considerate of other ppl while ur doing ur thing 👍

it’s really not something that you have to obsess or worry about whether you’re doing it just keep it in mind!!!

tldr: use tagging as a filtering tool- not a way to get more engagement

[an0nymous-p]

Pinned ☆

Before going any further,, please read the whole post,,

This is a fetish/kink blog, if you were here for U/tatane P/iko content, I apologize, that's just the theme,,

I'll share a little bit of information now

Call me Anon-P or just P, if you'd want to call me P/iko please separate it with a slash or type it as "P1ko", I don't want this blog to end up in any main tags for the V/ocaloid fandom,,

Pronouns are He/Him, and I am over the age of 18

Fetishes I am interested in/Will post about:

☆ Corprohillia/Scat

☆ Soiling/Messing

☆ Eprotophilla

☆ Doing any of the above on someone's face,, or crotch,, or just on them in general,,

☆ Omorashi [I am personally not into it that much, but my partner is, so I might reblog a few posts related to it]

Maybes?:

☆ Piss play

☆ Diapers

☆ I'm not really sure,, we'll just see

Not interested in:

☆ Coprophagia/Scat consuming

☆ ABDL

☆ Pet play

Boundaries

I would heavily prefer for you to not ask about my own personal experiences or ask for me to control your holds, I might be shy in general on here, so I apologize if I don't respond much,, sending asks is okay but don't be too pushy please,, if I need to add anything else here I will edit the post, for now we'll just see how it goes,,

Extra info

I am an introject in a system, I'm only stating this to explain the layout, I won't be sharing anymore info on it, I just ask you to be respectful of it or I won't be responding to you,

I am also,, very new to Tumblr and how it works, if I make any mistakes writing this post please let me know,,

Fandoms

☆ V/OCALOID

☆ B/ungo S/tray D/ogs

[I won't tag the fandom posts with anything unless I figure out if they have NSFW tags,, they might? Not sure,,]

I'll be tagging everything with normal tags but I might make a few of my own tags if I decide to start creating art or writing for this blog,, still not really sure yet,,

[elysian-drops]

Something I’ve wondered as I was reading Appetence, how is it that the cut on Harri’s hand healed but not the hickeys she got later? If Harri is self-healing herself subconsciously then does that mean that she wouldn’t heal the marks that she liked receiving..? Or didn’t perceive them as threatening to her health because they weren’t maliciously intended?

Hi!

Wow, okay, I’m really happy you picked up on that detail because it’s one of those tiny world-building things that I don’t really have the time or space to explain in the actual story (but nonetheless have been really wanting to discuss 😂). 

You’re right in that Harri is healing subconsciously— though, it isn’t really herself doing it so much as it is the horcrux. This may be a bit of a long-winded answer, but bear with me 😂

In my world-building notes for Appetence, I initially framed the horcruxes as having varying levels of sentience depending on what percent of Voldemort’s original soul they contained (i.e. the Diary was the most sentient and the Diadem was the least). Sentience here is defined by, more or less, how much energy/magic they themselves, as objects, contain and can exert on the world or take in (like how the Diary could possess Ginny, talk with Harri, and bring them into its memories). For example, in order for the Diadem to be on the same level of activity as the Diary (i.e being able to possess a person and interact with its environment) it would need to take in a substantially larger amount of energy from its victim due to how little it was originally imbued with— and, in the process, probably kill them off quite fast. This is in comparison to the longer feeding time of the Diary: it drained Ginny rather slowly as it was, initially, only seeking to replace the energy it was spending via her possession (this is to say that it had enough of its original own energy that it didn’t /need/ to possess Ginny from the get-go in order to interact with its environment). So that’s the general horcrux system in place. 

Of course, the two biggest anomalies in this system are Nagini and Harri. As both belong to a ‘living’ vessel, their horcruxes (despite being the last ones made and therefore with the lowest percentages of the original soul) are far more active + contain more energy than their predecessors. I honestly love thinking of the horcruxes as parasites that require a host in order to become increasingly sentient 😂 Essentially then, both Harri and Nagini are ‘hosts’ who fuel their horcruxes by providing them with a steady energy source (i.e they never go dormant like the others do— aka the Diary who was awakened after Ginny wrote in it). Though in contrast to Nagini, Harri’s horcrux is by far the most active (and I would say the strongest out of all of V’s remaining ones, and, perhaps, even the Diary before it was destroyed). This is for namely two reasons: a) the presence of innate magic in Harri that the Scar-crux is continuously feeding from that Nagini lacks, and b) the original whole soul of Harri that it latched onto and made its own (which is the biggest difference as the others were attached to soul-less vessels and were therefore dependent on whatever percentage Voldemort could spare for them). I have a whole other post (which I’ll link here) that explains how Harri’s soul ended up forming around Voldemort’s, if you’re interested (I call it the Soul Jello theory 😂). But overall, this is to say that Harri’s horcrux is on a different level entirely (something that even V remarks on and doesn’t quite understand himself how it works).  

Now what does this have to do with Harri’s healing? Well, I’m glad you asked 😂 

So far, we’ve seen her horcrux become more and more active the longer its in Voldemort’s general proximity. Compared to earlier in the story, it now talks to her more frequently, influences her mood, her magic, has become keenly aware of its environment, and so forth— and this includes the state of her body and healing processes. As parasitic as it is, the horcrux’s goal is not to destroy its host, but rather prolong its usefulness: this means trying not to kill it outright lol. For Scar-crux, this manifests in trying to maintain a homeostasis within Harri so that she can keep feeding it— aka trying to avoid exposing her body to too much stress and having it potentially shut down. The horcrux heals things that would actively put her in danger of that stress  (i.e cuts, bleeding out), and it does so without her really even knowing about it (namely by hijacking her magic for its own use). Basically, Scar-crux is always running in the background and doing maintenance wherever it can 😂 Of course, it has limitations on what it can realistically achieve. Severe cuts or broken bones? Yeah, that’s going to take longer— and significantly more energy (which, keep in mind, it has to leach from Harri). Above all, I like to imagine that the Scar-crux is quite smart about it: it knows when it simply isn’t cost-efficient to heal her on its own (aka when it’ll just cause her body even more stress and therefore more damage). For instance, take her ongoing issue with malnutrition: it would’ve been an enormous energy expenditure to try to fix that through magic, so the Scar-crux limited itself to only the little things that would keep her near-ish stability (healing minor burns from the stove, smalls nicks and cuts, keeping down her fevers, etc). Hickeys? Same thing: they don’t pose an immediate danger to her health, so it didn’t bother fixing them. 

Of course, there are other limitations to this ability as well: the horcrux can’t, for example, heal wounds inflicted by Voldemort’s magic. Consider the bite wound from the beginning. When Severus goes to heal it, he remarks that “he felt some resistance to his magic” and “had seen a shimmer dance over the bite's surface”— the bite wasn’t just physical, but also was magical in nature due to V’s venom/parselmagic. I like to think of this limitation as trying to put out a fire with more fire, really— it just isn’t feasible.  

So, overall, you’re right that the healing is entirely subconscious and only done when it's perceived to threaten her health! And really, bless the Scar-crux for all its efforts to keep Harri going— I certainly wouldn’t want that job 😂 Though that being said, I really do like your thought on her not healing the marks she liked receiving 👀 That's also quite on-brand for her 😂

Thanks again for the question and for letting me ramble a bit about some of my headcanons for the Appetence universe! It’s always a treat whenever I get to do that 💕

[0ryza13]

Y'all ever see one of those character v character tiktoks/edits, you know, where they take two characters and pick categories like speed, strength, strategy, etc etc and say which character is better in that category, then at the end they're like so this character is better!

But the final score is either nearly tied or like 10-0, and sometimes they add categories like "has blond hair" that are clearly either pity points to the losing character or just to inflate their faves score?

Yeah I think sometimes the makers are also just flat out lying, because usually when I see those it's either accurate or about characters I don't know enough about to argue, but I'm thinking about those at the moment bc I just saw one with two characters from different franchises that are often pitted against each other, but I'm in the fandom for both and therefore know and like both characters, right? And so this specific edit was like "7-2, character A wins!" And then did like a 'freeze frame, roll it back, redo' thing and went "PSYYYCH! 12-1 CHARACTER B ALL THE WAY YOU REALLY THOUGHT?!?!?" but the thing was, the first time through I was thinking "uhh, some of these don't seem to be the correct allocation of points for that category-" (what I actually thought to myself was "you're just lying on that one though - and that one;") and then the SECOND time through I was just thinking "okay but now you're lying even more but in the opposite direction???"

Like. Genuinely, why do you even bother making a tally mark comparison edit if you aren't going to actually try to fairly judge? Idk, it just feels like the whole thing is weirdly skewed. I know full well it started out as an actual method of fair comparison, but then people started adding the pity point categories or picking only categories their fave wins at, and like, that felt a little annoying to me since it kind of went against the premise but I was always willing to just live with it bc if you wanted to, you could just go back through the video and re-count the scores disregarding the obviously rigged categories, but now people are just actually making shit up, and it is frustrating to me because somehow a fairly objective scoring system became a dumb rigged "my blorbo can beat up your blorbo ANY day and it isnt even a question!" that is still pretending to be a fair and unbiased judgement system, and honestly that's the part that's really got me ranting in a tumblr post while I'm stuck in bed with two ice packs on my ass and a heating pad on my abs.

[an-inbetween-place]

11/10/24

I’m not even sure how to start this. This week has been a mess of emotions — and what builds on top of that is that I can’t help but feel like every which direction I look int is telling me how to feel. How I should react. How I should BE feeling.

And that makes me confused.

I guess that’s what happens when the nation is so polarized.

The 51 v 49 points metaphor really holds. In all the thoughts that are bubbling up in my mind.

Let’s tackle what feels slightly less emotionally grueling. What I have less skin in the game around.

Four more years of Trump.

It’s funny! When I first read those words .. they didn’t really sink in.

And then once they sunk in .. it was heartbreaking to read.

Truly, this last year .. I feel like I understand what heartache feels like.

(Not the manifestation coming true…)

But now… I feel almost nothing? I feel almost like .. it’s going to be okay? 

I don’t know what it is — the time, the last hour or so that I just went full send in on articles, or .. some of Brandon’s influence in actually listening to his polices and speeches.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m always going to think he’s an asshole and undeserving of power.

… It’s probably the fact that he won the popular vote that is aiding and accelerating acceptance.

I mean it’s also the fact that I DID WHAT I COULD! I can’t even say that the electoral college let me down! I voted with my one vote and the American public did the same and … yeah we SPOKE. And that’s that! It’s futile for me to do much else (at least right now). (Of course I can volunteer my time and my $$ for my preferred candidate and plug more into that system but … I mean just being honest, I really don’t know if I’ll do that! As the hypocrite I am!)

And not to give myself an out but .. I do think it’ll be fine. It’ll be 4 years of irritation and annoyance that he’s the figurehead of our country but … I do think I’ll turn out alright on the other end. And I know that’s my own privilege speaking out. And I know that’s giving myself a little bit of an out. But I really have seen the turnaround to acceptance.

Seen? Participated in.

Because I hate to say it but truly, the media IS sensationalized. And I stand by my comments about him being an utterly repulsive and repugnant person… butit’s’s not as bad as the headlines make it out to be.

Man, how have we got here? Truly crazy.

Let’s get into the meat of the problem. Or at least (selfishly) the core of what impact this has on me and where my thoughts have been this week.

How does this affect me & B?

It was … truly shocking for me to hear/learn about B’s support of Trump. 

I know that’s silly but I suppose I just assume we’re the same unless a conversation or an event leads me to think otherwise.

And … tbh I feel like this was an inevitable event. (What was that spidermen meme around this? OH, I cannot interfere, this is a canon event).

Hate to say it but Mickey called it — I do like an old school man. I want a man to take care of me, to take care of the household, to protect us and to be a strong figure.

So of course why wouldn’t he support Trump? AND I DO MEAN SUPPORT LIGHTLY… as in he didn’t vote (even though he would have if we were in a swing state and he was registered in time … so the clarification is really unnecessary).

Trump’s campaign ran on promising a better economy (so more $$ to support ���our family”), cracking down on immigration (semi-financial benefits but relates to crime & etc) and … well other stuff that I cant really come up with a correlation at the moment.

When it comes to the big ticket items, we agree. I can see the rationale when it comes to what I feel more left on and he comes in with a more “rational” rightish thought.

It really comes down to culture politics and the fact that I think I’m more accepting and he’s more limiting due to one off cases.

The question is … is that enough? Are the shared beliefs enough? Can I accept him as he is — as a trump supporter?

I do feel a slight tinge of shame associated with it. That it says something about ME.

Which of course — it does! But really what it should say is that I am open-minded and not bigoted.

Because I do think a majority of my girlfriends (who mostly happen to be a politician every 4 years…) would treat this as a dealbreaker. 

And more power to them.

But it’s nothing to be ashamed of! If anything, that is a clear example of the divisiveness that is pushing us into this state of the nation.

June had a good point — that this should really should be a check in on the rest of our relationship.

Do I feel okay about his career, about our future together (financially), about him raising our future children?

I think the career and financial concerns… I think I need to weigh those more closely this year. I am giving him a shot — I am saying that I’ve never felt like we can’t do something because of monetary reasons but of course it bothers me that he still lives at home.

Like … I think I made up my mind that I am not staying in the basement any longer.

It’s not an innovative thought in any way but I do just want to see if we can just be happy together.

Because coming out of spending the weekend together… I am just happy today.

I don’t want to say goodbye to him.

I love him.

And as much as I’m trying to figure out what that all means… I do know that.

That he’ll always have that place in my heart. That I’ll always feel that.

The care he shows to me… the way he makes me feel safe.. the way he sees me… the way he puts up with my antics… I know other men could maybe do the same but I do love him for that. Beyond what he does for me… his slow and steady nature… his goofy cute sleepy state… his dorky love for history and plane videos… how he shows care to his family and me … I love it.

This drink is stronger than I thought and I have to pee!! None of this makes sense!!!

[kitten-kokomo]

okay. Before I actually answer the question (which I will! I swear!), I have some criticisms with your reasoning.

(holy shit this is a long post, so I’m putting in a break because I don’t hate you all, but to the person I reblogged this from, I promise there are actual thoughts on your original question in here too, I just had to get some other things out of my system first)

First. Problematic is a very nebulous label that means different things to different people. Some people might consider someone who is canonically an adult “child-coded” and thus any ship involving them is “problematic”. Some people might consider a ship where one character is 17 and the other is 18, and they have an age gap of less than two months, but because one is legally a minor, the ship is pedophilia and thus “problematic”. Some people might think two characters are “sibling-coded” and thus that ship is “problematic.” These are just examples, but you get the gist: problematic is an impossible label to define.

Second. The notion that a ship can’t be “that bad” if lots of people ship it is ridiculous. Obviously, a ship can be problematic and people can still ship it, because this is fiction. Neither Tessa nor J exist, so does it matter? Obviously, nobody is trying to get a real human girl and a real sentient robot to kiss. (Especially since robots like J don’t actually exist in reality.) The idea that a ship is only problematic if it’s unpopular is a symptom of the wider fandom space’s tendency to call ships problematic if they don’t like them, because (as previously discussed) it’s a nebulous label that can be applied to pretty much anything if you stretch it enough.

Third. I find the fact you censor the word proship to be really funny. Because, A, that implies that liking fictional characters kissing is on the same caliber with rape or suicide or other common genuine problems people might try to avoid. And B, it implies (and I could be wrong here, this is just based on the behavior of other people I’ve seen who censor proship) that you think proship means “problematic-ship(per)”. Say it with me folks:

PROSHIP MEANS “PRO (FOR) SHIPPING”, NOT “PROBLEMATIC SHIPPING”.

Alright, now that we’ve cleared up some definitions, I swear, I do genuinely have some thoughts about Jessa.

To me, I think before we worry about the potential age gap, let’s talk about the fact that they are two very different types of being: robot and human.

Personally, that’s a big squick for me, so I always tend to shy away from Jessa art/fic where they actually kiss or do more romantic things (although I still check the tag from time to time, because there’s a lot of really good work that’s not overtly romantic and I can just see it as platonic love for each other)

But for lots of people, the human-robot thing is fine. (See what I mean about “problematic” being subjective?) So let’s actually talk about the age gap.

First off, remember that this is at a point in time when drones were treated as tools only, except by people like Tessa. For all we know, as soon as drones were mentally developed to leave their pill-baby casing, they were uploaded into a full-sized adult body and treated the same as a thirty-year old drone. So it’s possible that J was significantly younger than Tessa.

Alternatively, before being put into their adult frames, drones might have been artificially aged up to a more developed age, so they could accomplish tasks in a useful manner. So J could be the same age or older than Tessa.

And again, drones don’t physically age, so our best bet at guessing their “age” is what they say they are. In Ep 4, N says that Uzi is “just a kid like us”, which implies that he considers himself and V (and presumably J, as the three of them act like they’re roughly the same age) to be about the same age as Uzi. Obviously, he and V have been alive much longer than Uzi, since they had a whole life before the gala, and have been killing people for years, since they killed Nori and Doll’s parents, presumably when Uzi and Doll were young.

All of this makes no sense in human terms; shouldn’t N V and J behave as if they were much older than Uzi and her classmates? But they don’t. What this should imply is that aging for drones is either completely irrelevant to time passing (maybe they install software updates over time that “age” them, and N V and J just never got theirs because of Solver shenanigans and being upgraded into genocide-vampires), or just doesn’t matter.

In either case, I don’t think it matters what J’s “actual” age is, because she is a robot and thus operates on a different scale than humans like Tessa. She behaves as if she is roughly Tessa’s age, so I would argue that in the court of “whoever decided you can only ship some characters”, Jessa is found not guilty of whatever unspeakable crime people think they’re committing.

Tl;dr: problematic is a pointless metric, Jessa is fine.

(and even if it was “problematic”, you should ship it anyways if you enjoy it!)

(I’m gonna go hide now because I have a feeling I’m about to be ✨harassed✨ yay)

I /gen can’t decipher wether Jessa is problematic or not

Because on one hand, a LOT of people ship it, too many for it to be really problematic (Because the MD fandom is pretty tame, i’ve only seen problematic ships like 4 times within my span of 7 months in being in the fandom)

(I’d also like to clarify that I an NOT pr0ship or anything. I’m asking because I’d like to steer away from Jessa if the general consensus is that it’s problematic)

But on the other, we have little to no idea on the drones ages in EP.5. We know Tessa is a child, but what about the drones?

It’s not like they’re just ageless and have no concept of age or something, they have developmental stages of life just like people do. This is important because we don’t really know if the drones are kids, teens, or full blown adults in it.

I’m really 50/50 on it, so I want more opinions on it. What are your opinions on Jessa?

[the-firebird69]

We're going to introduce a new Camaro a new Corvette stingray and a new Corvette b model and if you don't know what the b is it's the fastest format of vehicle on Earth they're extremely fast and they do look like his mega car hypercar they're a little bit different and his is never going to get beaten but they're the ones that look like these kind of wedges they're awesome cars okay they're mid-engine and they are super super fast and you have to be skilled to drive them and the compartment is forwards it kind of dangerous but not if they'll correctly in his are and for Chevrolet Corvette they're built correctly I've driven one of the new ones it is intense I have a Corvette dealership and I'm going to be the first to receive the new Corvettes of which there are several. There are three models there's a Corvette stingray which you see around but it's going to be a metal panel and it's an alloy but it is not titanium it'll go up to 900 miles an hour but the model he's making goes up to 700 and it has a limiter and it's at 400. There's also making the b model which will go to 900 the limiter is set to 650 is the metal panel and it is an alloy it's not titanium or titanium alloy both. There's a third model that he's making that Corvette came up with and it's the c model where is the stingray is an a which is an Indy car the sea model is a different type of Indy car more or less it's a full body and Indy car and it's larger and those three Corvettes are rolling out now to Corvette dealerships in Florida and he's putting them out because he's going to compete with the hypercars and his line of hypercar is associated with Chevrolet and you can buy them at the Chevrolet Corvette dealerships only and I'm going to be the first dealership in history to have them and from my grand nephews design table and from the takeover of Chevrolet yesterday and which we have part ownership in and ben Arnold does not. And I'm going down to the shop now and he's suggesting to sell the other models so it's not the cause of big hubbub but the new models will be in the showroom and the others will be outside where they belong I'm saying LOL but these Corvettes are available to the public and your money is just as good as anyone else is more luck but it's up to you to hang on to it at this time it's a nice reliable car and the stingray is not really massively fast it's extremely fast and it's faster than most sports cars that are out there now production cars and it's way faster and the c model is faster than that but the b model is a top notch car it's really a race car the limiter set at 900 top speed is around 1500 mph with the alloy Hull you can upgrade the hall to titanium alloy on all three of them but the d model will go over 2,000 miles an hour and with a new motor the other motor you can type up it'll go 1800 mph and this is hypercars City okay these are fast fast powerful very well handling cars they have tires to go with it and they recommend you stick with the model tire and make if you go outside it you must stay within the or better than performance that's listed and it's very high ratings it's like a 99 or something with a v and low profile very high speed and it says it on there very high speed. And the tire pressure is normal but really this is an intense vehicle six regular gas they recommend 93 with an octane additive but you must mix it correctly too much and it'll hurt the motor so we recommend you just use 93 cuz it won't harm it it's all synthetic it's very easy oil to change but we do recommend you have the dealer do it so the plug is mounted correctly. And so you can have your service check up done correctly if you if you're spending that much money you might as well do it right but really this car is comparable to the mega hypercars coming out in speed and agility the only thing they lack are some of the safety features but they do have some for instance the stingray has any Jack system you can purchase or a parachute you can add a lot of people ad the parachute. And let's see

Stringray: starting price and yes it's my dealership and no Tommy f it's not in Johannesburg it is right there in Sarasota Florida and yes the starting price of the stingray Corvette stingray and the new model and yeah I'll go 700 mph without the limiter is $85,000 and my grand nephew says I can pick that up in a weekend or two years no but lots of people have that money

The Corvette c model which is really what the supercar looks like most the time it's like an Indy car without the holes in it and it's bigger than the stingray starting price $125,000

And the Corvette b model which is really a race car top speed is 2500 mph with the performance package and the faster motor they're not much heavier starting price $250,000

These prices are all approved by Chevrolet and if you order custom ordered items it is more and they're kind of a little bit more than you would think it's like Cadillac range stuff and I might have Cadillacs too I do have a Cadillac dealership license there and I haven't had them for a while and he said there are some new models that I'd be interested in and he's sending them over

God help us all but this is the way to succeed these Corvettes are real cars the last few Corvettes were kind of funky the stingray is a real Corvette and he was excited about it said that we're tired with us right and it sounded pretty cool and the guy thought it was nice since I got some new ones coming out and it'll be good 700 mph with the limiter 4 00 and with the limiter you're cut off from a gear or two so it revs up and really you want to be able to cruise at 400 so $700 is not that bad not too fast and really it's a different car but that car should be a lot different than the prior car he said to me this car handles like a dream it's very simple it's the IndyCar version and my grand nephew is pushing for it and says he says real simple that's like the Indy car and this one is like the b car so they changed it finally did the right thing that's what cars are supposed to do that's supposed to be a race car has no comparable car so you don't buy it and he said you're right you race it and say this is what it does so now he's excited he's waiting for the e version he says my version will be way too fast but I'm going to look at it so he's looking at e version he's going to bring some prototypes it's like five versions and one is fuel this one is a hybrid and you combine the fuels and the hybrid it goes way too fast it might be the way of the future and hybrid stuff something he came up with and it's amazing technology nowadays but I'm going to sell The Cadillacs too and Cadillac is a leisure vehicle it is not supposed to be a sport vehicle and they start doing it and start ruining it and you said it too you said hold on hold on but really it's like Rolls-Royce it's a lighter Rolls-Royce Mercedes level vehicle and he wants to put it back there it's always wanted to do it he said man you guys screwed everything up can't ride around and be cool in a Cadillac except for the one that the guy at the storm Western had Mr Roach and he kind of turned into a dick then he turned to Mike I wonder if that was him. They looked at him it's him he's going man that guy was a dick. I'm actually having to do it but the Macs buried now. That was him that passed a little three sentences is true though we're getting buried this way too many opponents and we need these cars and they're pretty solid okay the alloy solid it's metal it's very tough and it's not recycled or anything. And that's a little bit above recommended retail but it's appropriate for here you said if anything is slightly low but they'll buy them thinking that they are what we say they are and they'll drive them and know where they are he says I should set up a some sort of show for Corvettes and they have a lot of Corvette followers out here who knows it too that shows all the time I think I'll advertise it and there's a speedway near Sarasota I'm going to do it up there and show people that American muscle can do it too and here comes Hera

Mac daddy