#ray being a fucked up bitch tw

[dullweapons]

I thought at least one of these would have cannibalistic tendencies as a form of romance but none of them did so uhhhh

[ 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲 ] : receiver is thinking about sender when masturbating.

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬: a little assortment of sexual action prompts for rp purposes. but i'm adding in cannibalistic tendencies ✨

tw ; blood , cannibalism , ray being a freak . written on mobile cause i’m eepy

there’s blood in his mouth & it’s not his .

it’s all over him . soaking his clothes & hair — it was that dragons . he had gifted them a beautiful & glorious wound that bleed & bleed until they passed out from it . he , of course , did not let them die . no — that was his favorite chew toy . it would terrible to waste such a precious person such as lyric . the demon loves the dragon dearly …he had given them a health potion & dressed their wounds before laying them down under a tree to rest . the potion isn’t a miracle worker , their body needs the rest . once they woken he would bring them back his house so they could sleep in a proper bed for then night …

but his heart was pounding as he stared at them with pupils like pinholes . his mouth watering , drool rolling down his chin that he is quick to brush away but ah — blood smears across his mouth ; the iron scent filling his nose sends shivers through his body . he crawls over to them as the blood drips down his face onto theirs …

you’re perfect .

he wants to wrap to wrap his teeth around their throat & bare down until he can hear the sickening snap of their spine . rip out their heart from their chest and feast upon it . lose himself to the sweet taste of their flesh from their beautiful body . his mouth hangs open as he leans closer to them . one bite . that would be alright … right ? his teeth ache to bite - to chew - to rip & tear them apart . to finally have them be together forever inside of him . he would love nothing more than to be one .

he finds his teeth on their jugular— his ear listening to them breathe softly . the demon takes his hand & nudges lyrics head to the side so he can get closer . they let a soft whimper — pathetic & horse but it does something to ray . his cock , hard , presses against their thigh.

ray is quick to jolt himself back up right & dashes away.

he comes to a stop deeper into the woods & sits underneath a large tree , covering his face in his hands . “ stupid . stupid stupid stupid ! ” he mutters to himself , hissing at his recklessness . lyric was mortal . you must remember that ! yes, they can fight … but they can die . you know you wish to spend as many years with them as you can before you eat them ! you know better . even still … he cannot deny how wonderful it is to sample their flesh a little early . he removes his hands from his face, dragging it down . the blood thick & slick across his cheeks . it’s … intoxicating .

a low moan leaves him as he leans back — lyric put up such a beautiful fight . truly it is their fault he’s so worked up no … if he didn’t stab them so harshly they would have been fucking . that happens with them sometimes … fighting is almost foreplay. you punch me , i punch you . you break my nose & i break yours. you bite your tongue from how hard i hit you & suddenly we’re kissing . saliva mixing with blood with cum to be added to the mix if you give it enough time .

“ fuck …” a low huff as she shimmies off his undergarments & hikes up his tunic ( tucking it into his lindy belt to keep it out of the way . ) his cock springs up to attention — already rock hard & aching to be pleased. ray wastes no time as he take himself into his hand & strokes — fast & aggressively as his other hand enters his mouth to suck off their blood . he moans , his tongue swirling between his fingers to get every last drop . when he runs out he runs off the blood that still lingers on his face & clothes to get more .

ray presses his upper back against the tree as he arches himself — his hips now in the air thrusting into his hand as he strokes . he barly opens his eyes . he rather them closed to picture them . bloody & beaten with that determined expression . ah . so cute . & that one curl that lingers in front of their face … not to mention how soft their body feels against his when he slams down into them, flesh smacking against one another harshly until they cry …!

“ nugh — lyric ! ” he cries out , barely through his fingers . he would not dare to miss a single bit of them . no , never . “ fuck — fuck fuck … m-more …” he bites his glove & slides if off of his hand , spitting it out to the side . he spits & reaches behind to enter himself — again , aggressively he fingers himself not bothering to warm himself up . why bother he wants to feel ravished . ray bites his scarf as he thrusts into his hand in opposite time with his fingers . his legs shiver , muscles strained & starting to burn trying to keep up the pace .

his growls become more animalistic — he can still taste lyric’s blood on his scarf mixed with fibers … it’s enough as his brows furrowed as he finally feels that explosion coming near . just a bit —! just a bit more !

ray’s body jolts as that electrical spark shatters him , his mouth a gape as he screams out their name for no one but the trees to hear! his cum splatters out onto his stomach as he slows down his hand until he finally stops … his body gives out & he slumps down into the grass , panting. lazily he looks down at himself … blood & cum . how delicious . rays lips purse together as he debates … sampling this mixture but decides he’s wasted enough time . he should really get back to lyric …

maybe … maybe after one more round ?

[momomallowart]

TW! Drugs (specifically that fucked up elixir mint eye brews)

Bad End 💔

[s4turnzbarzzz]

billy lenz (black christmas 1974) nsfw alphabet

requested: no

tw: smut

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he tries to clean you both off but he doesnt do much other than grab a rag and wipe off any cum

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

he likes his hands since he knows how useful they are

he likes your ass since it jiggles when you guys fuck

C= Cum (anything that has to do with cum basically)

hes gross and perverted, cums anywhere on you and cums alot, if you edge him long enough it will get in your hair from how hard he cums

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

likes to watch you fuck yourself, just know youll get endless phone calls of him teasing you and being a bitch until the next time you fuck

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

he knows what to do, he just isnt sure how to do it

F= Favorite position

reverse cowgirl if youre on top

doggystyle if hes on top

(he likes to look at your ass alot)

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

hes kinda goofy when you have sex, he uses alot of pet names too

H= Hair (grooming habits)

he doesnt shave because 'its annoying to keep up with' (he knicked his balls once when he tried to shave and will never do it again)

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

hes rough and dirty when you fuck, he'll spit on you as well as choke and degrade you, hell throatfuck you and cum down your throat and on your face, he'll dig his nails into you wherever he can grab

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

he jacks off alot, yeah he has you but you cant always be at the sorority house and even if you are there, he likes to call you and tease you

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

choking, degrading, s&m, pet names, biting, spitting, dacryphyllia, praise, impact play, teasing, phone sex

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

anywhere as long as youre home alone

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick)

he loves to watch you go about your day, waiting for the perfect time to call you and get you hot and bothered, especially if its inconvienient for you

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

he'll try anything

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

he likes recieving but he loves giving, he loves the way you taste and the way you squirm when you get close

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

hes fast and rough but he only lasts 2-3 rounds

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

he loves quickies so much, he'll fuck you so many times throughout the day

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

he loves the risk of getting caught, especially if you're loud, he'll fuck you in your room and in the attic and on your desk

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

he can go for 2-3 rounds back to back and they last about 20 minutes each

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

he loves toys, he'll use them on you and he lets you use them on him

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

he doesnt like getting teased but he loves teasing you (hes a brat and secretly likes being teased but only a little bit)

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

hes loud, he makes noises and uses pet names for you (he still talks in third person though)

W= Wild card (nsfw headcanon of any sort)

he'll let you peg him but you have to convince him to let you do that

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

6.5 inches fully hard and kinda skinny but really veiny

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

his sex drive is through the roof omg

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

he'll half ass aftercare and then fall asleep right after

[sashi-ya]

𝕱𝖔𝖗 𝕳𝖎𝖒. 𝕭𝖊𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖍𝖎𝖒. +18. dark! dom!reader x sub!Eustass Kid

✦ I wanted to write a yandere reader, with low morals and willing to torture the boy she/they obsessively simp over. You voted for Kidd. I didn't want to contribute to his actual suffering but here we are 😂 ✦ tw: dark! content. reader guiltrips Kidd and makes use of his weakness for her AND Killer. Kid x Killer implied. Takes place while he is in Udon, so, he is in jail. He is wearing shakles and tied to the wall. Facesitting. Slapping. Spitting. Overstimulation. Anal fingering. Degrading language. Violence. Though initially thought to be a female reader, there isn't really much indicators about reader being specifically a woman. Maybe the part where they squeeze their breasts but there are men with tits so. ✦ wc: 2.1k

“Eustass Captain Kidd…” you purr from the darkness.

His wet red locks fall over his face. Arm up, wrist tied to the wall of a cold cell. A subtle blueish light filters like a ray of light through the bars of Udon’s cells.

He huffs. He’s been brought here; he knows nothing about what happened to his crew and most importantly to Killer. He only knows he has been betrayed by the ones that said to be his allies.

“Who- are you? I’m gonna kill you!” he hisses, like a chained beast so ready to tear the flesh of anyone once he is freed.

You laugh. Hysterically. Finally able to see him back fills you with excitement and need.

“You don’t recognise my voice no more? What happened to you?” you ask, emerging from the dark. Your sexy body, the one that Kid knows very well, flashes on his red eyes.

He gasps. But, there is too much hatred inside of him.

Wearing the beast pirates attire, showing more skin than clothes, a long cape on your shoulders, you crouch at a considerable distance. You don’t want his heavy boots to stamp their soles in your face.

“What are you- what are you doing here, you treacherous bitch!” he spits one of the many insults that will follow. The chain and shackle of kairoseki clank with the violent motions, and you are sure he is about to rip a whole piece of wall just to be freed from there.

But you aren’t scared. you are, at best, a little bit crazy for him.

“Don’t blame me for staying by Kaido’s side. You chose to defy him because you think you are enough… but, I was clever, Kidd…” you whisper, coming by to his right side. “Come on, don’t treat me badly… remember our nights”

Kid turns to look at you, his eyes pierce your soul with pure hatred. The sweat drops falling right through his temple make you tremble.

“Remember the times when I use your holes for my pleasure? Yes. That’s the only usage I could give you” he hurts you. Or he thinks he does. You don’t mind, after all it has always been a matter of pure lust… but he was so yours when coming, when searching for your body in the middle of the night before Kaido fell from the skies like an unholy blessing.

You can’t stop laughing. And it’s scary, even for Kidd. “Stop laughing, if you want me to fuck you again then, free me up” he demands, thinking that you could be beaten in your own game.

“Ah so… we are playing that game aren’t we? But, Kidd… I’m a Tobbi Roppo now! I serve Kaido-sama… however, I very much like your offer. And I would like to trade with you… You want to be freed? You want to know where Killer is?” you chime, looking at him with your head tilted to the side and your thumb playing with your lip.

The red-haired beast grunts. You name Killer and he transforms. “What do you- what do you want?! Tell me where he is!” he shouts.

You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand… “Mmmh… let me touch you and I’ll tell you~ ” you playfully tell him, coming closer to his ear. Whispering soft, inaudible words you realize his skin becomes bumpy and his wet pants so tight on his crotch.

Weakness cannot describe what he feels for you. He craves your body, in a torturing dichotomy… is this because of Killer, or, because he really wants it even though he knows you won’t free him?

Slowly, like approaching a rabid animal, the tip of your nose buries on his neck. You inhale the scent of masculine rage coming from his pores. “Delicious. As scary and violent as always ~” you purr.

Kid watches you with a raving side look. “Be thankful I’m handcuffed…” he growls, ripping a smirk and a dark aura to come from you.

Immediately after his void threat, your hand gets to his half-burnt neck. Your nails carve on his skin, and you press so hard that you can feel his trachea almost cracking.

Kid gags, widening his eyes. You have become strong, and the woman he used to subdue under his imponent frame to fuck her senseless, has shown her true power.

“What? What would you do to me if you were uncuffed? Hm? You don’t want to save your sweet friend?” you murmur, biting his earlobe after.

Kidd grimaces; for the very first time he is scared of you. And fright feeds you.

You keep laughing as you finally straddle into his lap. He can’t speak, he has gone wordless. Smiling, so terrifically, you get to his lips to lick them. Red lipstick already smeared mixes with the blood traces of the thrashing he had to endure before being thrown to this jail.

“Did the cat got your tongue?… ah, what a shame… you used to use it so well on me. Are you sure is not there? Let me see” you tell him before pressing his cheeks to open his mouth.

He seethes, but you don’t care as his hips keep searching for more pressure and they make his crotch stick to yours.

A string of saliva drips from the tip of his tongue, the roughness of his breathing makes you so aroused. To have such a strong man under you, it’s your time now. From the times he left you unable to stand up, from the times he didn’t ask to fill you up, from the times he slapped you hard while he buried mercilessly into you…

“It’s my turn now, Kidd…”

You give him a little slap, that ends up with him spitting on you. Which is, absolutely not a problem for you. “Good boy! Stick your tongue out for me, ok?”

Standing up, you grab a fistful of his red locks and stretch his head back. Hips are now over his face; the thighs he used to bite and bruise, surround his facade.  

Kidd bites his lower lip, your almost drippy core feels like he is being served his last meal. And perhaps it is, as you let your body fall over his face, muzzling, suffocating him.

You move your head back and forth, giving him a taste of your lustful elixir. His tongue buries inside the very first part of your entrance and then to your clit. His grunts are, by far, the perfect companion to your whimpers.

“See, you had a tongue after all!” you giggle while aggressively press your sex against his face. You fantasise with his lips becoming blue from the lack of air. You want him to feel lightheaded, about to pass out.

And just, when you had enough, but he hasn’t, you stand up. You let go of his hair, pushing his head back. Hitting his nape against the wall he mourns, but he is more interested in what comes next that any pain his body could feel.

You take the time to smear even more the rests of lipstick and blood with your own juices all over his face. It excites you to no extent to see his stare become weaker, subdued to your acts, pleading for more.

It’s a matter of seconds before you can rip his pants off. His belly, who was already exposed, tenses. He can’t take this no more, but you can make him even more needy.

“Ah… how much I have missed your dick...” you moan, taking a closer look to the red, drippier, throbbing member that lays erect in the middle of his crotch. “Would you like me to touch it? Or maybe lick it for you?” you playfully tease him, watching the way his sex twitches at your indecent proposal.

“If you missed it, why don’t you suck it already? Huh?” he urges you to use your mouth, but that’s the beauty of the torture…

You giggle, hysterically, sadistically. You ain’t using your mouth, oh no. It’s better if you use the tip of your high heel boot. It softly hits his hardness, making him bend forward. The sound of chains resonating all around a silent night at Udon, and the subtle tears flooding Kidd’s sharp eyes fills you with joy.

“I’m so, so, so happy right now, Kidd!” you moan, taking your hands to your breasts, squeezing them. You are out of your mind, but that never bothered Kidd, why would it bother him now?

He doesn’t protest. He knows he’s earned it. Kidd suffers in silence, his cheeks become red. His dick sprouts large amounts of precum, making a puddle all around him. He is, right now, in a state of pain and pleasure. He wants it over, but he wants it to last forever… and, you haven’t even touched him yet.

But, that won’t last much longer. You want to edge him, to the point of making him dumber. The tip of your boot lubricates with Kidd’s own arousal honeys, and it begins to go up and down all throughout his shaft.

You can see how his hips buckle up just to get more and more; you enjoy his suffering expression, so much it makes you almost come from such lewd imagery.

“You are like a puppy, Kidd. You wanna hump my leg? Cutie pie!” you purr, lifting your leg just a little so the sharp heel of your boot dangerously lingers on top of his balls.

“I- I can’t- give me more” he pleads, stupidly reduced to a mere slave of sex.

“Sh sh, stay still… or do you want me to step on you? Oh no, we wouldn’t want that… right?” you pout, acting all innocent with clear darkness intentions that both scare and excite the captive captain.

Kidd swallows. He is unable to stay still, he wants relief no matter what. Even if it hurts him.

“Stand still!” you scream, after stepping a few millimetres from his flesh, right into the stone ground. The sound of your heel carving into the precum stained floor makes his breathing to stop for at least a couple of minutes. “Haven’t I told you yet, that it is me who decides what’s next? We don’t want you to get hurt, right?”

When Kidd finally starts breathing again, you kneel right next to his miserable self. “Suck my fingers, come on” you order him, pushing your index first in his mouth. As he deliciously wets your fingers, you graze his prominent cheekbone so softly and caring. A total contradiction since you are almost making him gag by how violently you bury your hand into his mouth.

Wet fingers finally reach his shaft. Kidd thinks he is getting a final dose of relief… but there is much more you wanna do…

While you pump his dick up and down, so slowly. Painfully slowly, you begin to slide your index into his rear entrance. You don’t find a lot of resistance, and you smile even wider. Boy has experience, no doubt about it.

“Aahhh ~ I see you aren’t new to this, who was it? Killer?” you laugh deadly sexily, watching him look to the side with cheeks on fire. “Now I know the real reason behind your worry… is not just your bro…” you tell him, while finally being able to fully enter his rear entrance.

Kidd grunts; a loud “Fuck!” escapes his overly bitten lips. And you can’t allow such strong word coming from him right now, so, a soft slap will do to tame him. The red-haired man can only emit intelligible sounds and moans, don’t ask for him to think straight. You are hitting his G-point. You are pumping his dick. He is lost into the last few moments to reach heaven…

But, heaven… Wano isn’t heaven. You stop, right before he could cum. Ruining his orgasm, keeping him in the precipice of lust or loss.

“WHY---?” “Because you have been a bad boy. You left me, Kidd! But… don’t panic. You wanna come, right? Then why don’t I make you cum harder than ever?” you whisper, fixing your yandere eyes into his scared and needy ones.

You unexpectedly slide a second finger inside him, hitting right the prostate. Your palm rests open wide over his gland, tracing circle motions that make his whole body to contort and his teeth to chatter.

“N- NO- I- I-“ he whines, its too much pleasure even for him to process. But you keep going, he can’t stop you. Keep crying, Kidd.

You trap his lower lip with your teeth, softly pulling, enjoying his incontrollable moans. He drools, he pants, he cums and you keep touching him. You keep stimulating him.

Kidd is going senseless. He can’t understand yet, how, his body is able to still feel pleasure. But he can’t stop you. He won’t.

Squirting. Squirming. Closing his eyes, falling asleep soon after with the sound of your soft giggle does nothing but to sooth his stressed-out body.

“Sleep well, Kidd… I’ll be back tomorrow… freeing Killer will be more expensive than just a session”.

[shallyouobeyme]

Dodge

Yandere!Crime-Boss x Reader (GN)

Summary: Kidnapped in the dead of night in front of your own house, you were locked away in a cell with no idea why or what would happen to you, so when the opportunity to escape arises, you did what anyone would do and took it.

! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

TW: Kidnapping, getting shot, blood, weapons, violence, torture (mentioned), swearing, killing, yandere, dark!content, I don’t condone this, this is all fiction

Day 4 of my Yandere Writetober - Today’s Entry was inspired by a comment by @Sol565, if you have any cool ideas, then let me know: Tomorrow’s word is ‘Map’

The coldness of the metal floor seeped into the soles of your bare feet as you hid inside a locker, barely big enough to let you squeeze into it with your breath held and every muscle tensed. Throughout the slits a few measly, small rays of light hit your face as you tried to make out what was happening on the other side of the door. You heard steps and then you saw the silhouette of a rather robust man. It was probably one of the men who had taken you checking on you. If you weren’t so careful about not making a sound you would have sworn. You were supposed to have more time. After days of sitting alone in the cold, bare cell you had managed to correctly estimate how much time would pass between the patrols of thugs checking up on you or bringing you food.

Before your inner eye you could already see all your hard work being for naught. All the hours spent trying to open the door with the two hairpins that they hadn’t taken from you - probably not realising you had them - and thanking whatever entity was out there for your hyper fixation on lock picking in your middle school days would be for nothing now. He’d see you were gone and the entire place would be on high alert, taking away any hope you had of sneaking out of there.

“Fuck,” you heard him swear. You recognise his voice, he was one of the men who had taken you, he was the one who had punched you in the gut and told you to ‘stop fucking crying’ when you had sobbed and begged them to let you go. He was also the one who refused to give you any kind of explanation as to why they had taken you right from your front door, just laughing at you and telling you that you’d find out sooner or later. No matter what scenarios you went through in your head, you had no idea what you could have done, you didn’t owe anyone money except the government, you hadn’t started any fights or drama with important people, honestly you generally kept to yourself. “The fucking bitch got out! The boss is on his way back here, if we haven’t found that whore before he’s here there’ll be heads rolling.” Through the gaps you could see him looking around, but he didn’t seem to have any interest in the locker - luckily for you - and quickly ran off after giving an update through the radio he was wearing.

For a moment you were frozen in place. ‘The boss is on his way back here.’ That was what he had said and for some reason it seemed to have something to do with you as well. Would that be the day you died? Wasn’t that the most logical. They had kidnapped you and held you prisoner for some unknown reason, but they never did anything to you other than a punch or slap to silence you, they hadn’t questioned you, hadn’t made you hold a newspaper for a ransom video, hadn’t made you call your family asking for money. Not that there’d be much money to gain, but that would have at least given the whole ordeal some sense. Messed-up sense, but sense nonetheless. So, in your mind, the only logical explanation was that they had waited for this boss to come back so that he could finish the job himself. If you didn’t get out of there quick, you’d be dead by the end of the day.

Trying to gather your nerves and calm your breathing, you - as quietly as possible - opened the locker door and stepped outside. Looking around you tried to find something to defend yourself with but the outside of the metal cell you had been kept in was just as barren as the inside. Just a single chair and an empty table. But then you saw something standing besides the desk’s legs and quickly rushed towards it. It was an empty glass bottle, the label had been scraped off, but the smell alone would make it seem like it had been some kind of beer. It wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing. With your new weapon equipped you started making your way through the building, trying your best to avoid any people making their way through it searching for you.

Honestly, it was going astonishingly well as you managed to go two stairwells up without running into anyone, and the window on the floor you arrived on made you hope that you had managed to make it onto the first floor. The first floor which hopefully held the exit from this hellhole. Adrenaline was now flooding your veins even more than it already had and your heart was beating so loudly that you were sure the sound of it would give away your position. High with hope of escape you started being careless, especially once you stood at one end of a long corridor with the door standing at the end of it looking so very much like an exit. The only thing standing between you and the door was the same man from earlier, talking with someone through the radio, but you couldn’t make out the words over the blood rushing through your head. You had seconds, if that, before he’d turn around and see you, so you decided to take your fate in your own hand. You swung the glass bottle right onto his head and the sound of glass breaking and shards falling to the floor broke through your trance, the man stumbled to the side and swore, so you took your chance and ran towards the door when there was a loud ‘pang!’ right besides you. It didn’t take a genius to guess that you hadn’t disoriented him quiete like you hoped and that he was now shooting at you. You tried to dodge the shooting as best as you could, sidestepping every second even if the hallways didn’t give much room for it, and hoping his aim wasn’t very good with the blood seeping from his head.

The door was almost in reach when suddenly a hot, searing pain took you to the ground. It felt like your thigh was on fire and the flames were spreading towards the rest of your body. When you hit the ground you had already realised that you had been shot, but somehow that realisation overloaded your system and you didn’t have the mental capacity to hold out your hands to soften your blow onto the hard, cold, concrete floor. And so after your leg and your upper body hit the floor, your head followed with a searing pain that not only made you so nauseous you were surprised you didn’t immediately throw up what little you had gotten to eat the last days, but also gave the pain in your leg some serious competition.

Everything became slightly blurry and blotches of black danced in front of your eyes and your brain had trouble keeping up with what your senses were transmitting. The only sensations that seemed to reach your conscious mind was the sound of steps, oddly calm in the light of the discord that was happening around you. Then in the corner of your eyes you saw something black, first you thought it was just more of your consciousness leaving you, but then you made out the difference in dimensions. The shining black besides you were what seemed to be shoes, spotless and in perfect condition. Lastly, before your vision went black and everything around you disappeared into the void, you heard a deep, authoritative voice call out into the hall: “What do you think you’re doing?” One last thought was spared towards a question. Not the question as to who that man might be, it was obvious to you that he was the boss, they had been talking about, neither was it the question if his remark had been directed towards you or his ‘colleague’, instead the last question in your head was: “Where do I know this voice from?”

You hadn’t been able to consciously think about it, but if you had, then you would have probably assumed that you wouldn’t wake up again. And if - which again, you would have doubted - then probably in some dingy cell where you’d just wait to be tortured and killed. Neither of that was the case though, instead you woke up, lying in a bed so soft and so comfortable, that you would have assumed you were in heaven, hadn’t it been for the throbbing pain in your head and your leg.

For a few minutes you were just lying there, trying to work through everything that had happened. Has it actually happened? Maybe you had just had the most realistic nightmare induced by some accident that you couldn’t remember yet. Any hope in that unlikely scenario was squashed when the same voice from before your unconsciousness, called out to someone else: “Yes, I want everything set up as soon as possible… No, I don’t care. I told you what to do, so you better do it or you’re- See, I knew you’d get it. Thank you. I’ll call you as soon as we’re prepared on our end.”

Given that you could only hear one side of the conversation, you assumed that he was talking on the phone. His voice was so calm, but it was the kind of voice that left no room for arguments, the voice of a leader. Again, something in you recognized the voice, but you couldn’t tell from where, every attempt at remembering caused your head to throb even more painfully. That wasn’t the most curious aspect though, much more interesting was that his voice was so close, like he was sitting right next to you.

It took some preparation, mentally and physically, but after some moments of deep breathing you finally managed to force your eyes open. First, you were greeted by the white ceiling, slightly blinding you by reflecting the bright light, then you managed to tilt your head slightly towards the side where you had heard the voice and found a man - he was rather tall and you could see his muscular build through his dress shirt, with blemish free skin, a jawline sharp enough to cut and deep green eyes which were inspecting something on his phone - leaned back in a chair, one hand on his phone and one…

Holding yours.

The shock of the situation caused you to tense up, which made him aware that you were awake. He immediately put his phone down and came closer to you.

“You’re awake, good, I was getting worried. The doctors assured me that your wound was minor and that there was no damage to your head, but I couldn’t live with myself if you were hurt,” he said with such a loving voice that you would have thought he had mistaken you for someone.

“W-What?” you coughed out, just now realizing how dry your mouth and throat were.

The man immediately turned around and grabbed something - a glass of water as you saw - and brought it towards your lips, but you still had some sense of self-preservation left so you turned your head away.

“What? Do you think I put something in it? Would it help if I drink first?” he didn’t wait for your response, but took a big gulp as soon as he was sure you were watching, then he brought the glass towards your lips again and this time the desperation won over and you drank everything the glass had to offer.

Then you took a few breaths before asking what you were so very worried about.

“Are you going to kill me?”

His eyes widened in absolute shock. "What?!? No, of course not, even seeing you suffer from a cold would kill me, you have no idea of how much agony I was in to see you hurting, I never want to see this again.”

“W-Why? Why me?”

“You don’t remember me, do you? That’s okay, I know your life hasn’t been easy and… what happened the last few days wasn’t supposed to, but I’ll remind you, don’t worry. I promised I would always protect you and even though I haven’t done the best job of it these past few years, I won’t let you down now, my little bug.”

That’s when you realized where you had known him from. His voice had changed a lot and so had his body and his looks, but the tone of voice, the way he enunciated, was still almost the same as it had been when he had lived in the house beside you and protected you from the bullies who had it out for you. When he had given you your first kiss and when he had promised he would always protect you, when he told you he would become someone others wouldn’t dare cross and then he’d make sure no one would ever hurt you again.

It seemed he had succeeded with the first part.

“Ethan?”

“Yes, yes my little bug, I’m here now,” he muttered and leaned forwards to press a kiss to your forehead before patting your head lovingly. “I’m sorry about what happened to you, you weren’t supposed to be picked up yet, I wanted everything to be perfect, but- one of my men must have misunderstood. He- What he did, how he treated you… It’s unforgivable. I made sure that everyone who assisted him was properly punished, but I have a special surprise for you-“ he said and pulled out his phone before pressing some buttons and then a video showed.

You were so shell shocked, so confused, that you had no idea how to react. The video showcased a dark room with something in the middle.

“We’re good to go,” Ethan said to no one in particular. Or at least you thought it was to no one, until the video showed the light in the room being turned on - you realized it was a life feed and not just a video - and now you could see that the something in the middle was someone. It was the man, the guy who had shot you, with his hands and legs tied and his mouth stuffed with a gag. He looked like someone had beaten him up viciously, but once saw someone pushing a table filled with what you could only assume to be torture devices, you figured that he had the worst yet to come.

“Now, I really don’t want you to see this, but I need to prove to you that I will let no one hurt you and get away with it. No one…”

[lewdys-world-of-asks]

Cum dump for Ms Isley, after a group of students have thier way

Put a message in my inbox saying cum dump and a location (pussy, mouth, ass, etc…) and my muse will react to being filled or sprayed in that spot!

TW: non-consensual themes ahead.

Ivy strutted about the biology catch-up session she held after school, her high heels clacking against the floor as the students read over the material, "now do note that information from pages fourteen through thirty will be on the test tomorrow so make sure you make notes to study at home too," her tone was one of boredom as she sighed softly afterwards, returning to her desk to attend her new project, an unblossomed orchid that she'd been cultivating in recent days, eagerly awaiting to see whether the time had payed off. As she sat on the edge of the desk, stroking it's delicate stem her students couldn't help but notice her slender legs crossed over one another, the stress on the buttons of her shirt and most noticeable of all, the two pretty bumps of her nipples that poked through the thin fabric of her blouse. Every student pined after Ms Isley, hell even some of the faculty too, though this little group would be graced by a very lewd miracle as Ivy's orchid blossomed, much to her surprise. A slim smile danced on her lips as she leant in to catch a whiff of it's beautiful aroma, though what Ivy failed to realise is that as soon as she had, her mind began to loosen up, her cheeks flushing red as desire flowed through her. Though she had near perfect immunity to the effects of various plants, clearly she'd overestimated this ability as the orchids pollen sent her desire into overdrive and her mind into a more malleable state.

A few moments had passed as Ivy simply remained still, trying to calm her lust quickly, squirming a little. Just within her earshot she heard one of her students, who had clearly not been able to focus on his work, whisper his wish for Ivy to spread her legs. Though a wish for him, Ivy couldn't control her body as the words became command, much to her students delight as they began to take more notice of their teacher's predicament. Most hesitated at first, unsure if this was even happening before one of them piped up, issuing the next command. "Kneel." And within a heart beat, Ivy slipped off the desk and sank to her knees, a compliant look in her eyes as the orchids pollen pushed her consciousness back and left her a mindless toy for her students. With the last fleeting moments of consciousness, all Ivy could make out was the sound of one last command followed by the jangle of belt buckles. The last words she heard were "Say 'ahhh' bitch."

Groggily Ivy came back around, head spinning a little as the effects of her orchids pollen dissipated. The first thing in her vision was the clock being hit by orange rays of the sunset. It took a moment for her to figure that she'd been out for a hours. She shakily got up and panted, physically exhausted for some reason before she pieced together what must have happened. A soft chuckle echoed past her lips as she looked at the orchid, "Mischievous one, aren't you~?" She asked it, noticing her glasses on the desk, coated in cum before she caught on that while under the orchids influence, her students clearly must have enjoyed themselves. "My oh my, I can't blame them though with how pent up they must be having to watch me wear such short skirts~" she mused before taking a moment to grab her compact, opening it up to see her own reflection. Her makeup ruined, mascara had ran from her eyes all the way to her jawline, lipstick smeared about and dried cum coating her face and hair before she looked down to see it also coated her blouse. Ivy couldn't help but bite her lip, spreading her legs a little only to feel thick globs ooze out of her and down her thighs. Clearly the students had gone a couple rounds with their fuckdoll teacher, painting her then stuffing her full. "Mm fuck... Such messy students...~"

[crystallizedkingdoms]

cicada calls & goldfinch songs

Rory and Carrie have an emotional moment… on the floor.

wc: 4,817 || tw: ableism

you can also read this on ao3 <3

Droning hums of cicada calls are the only sounds that hit Rory’s ears that don’t come from the dingy box fan right beside his face. The suffocating September heat, too early for fall to kick in but too late to justify turning on more than one fan, drags Rory down into the dirt-stained carpeted floor of the living room. He lays there, stewing in the heat and sweat, eyes closed and mouth parted ever so slightly. 

Usually, Rory falls asleep after a certain amount of time on the floor, but this time, sleep just can’t come to him. Maybe it’s the awful sticky feeling that the humid weather plasters on his skin, or maybe it’s the mind-numbing cacophony of insects seeking each other out that permeates the walls. Maybe it’s the pain in Rory’s back from moving the new wave of shitty movies onto shelves all day. Whatever it is, it keeps Rory up, stuck in an exhausting state of limbo, limp on the floor. It keeps Rory’s mind awake enough to think.

I should change out of this stupid uniform, really, I need to shower, too, but god am I hungry, I think I need to make dinner tonight. Dinner for one? no, no, dinner for two at least, maybe three if mom drops by before she goes out, she might be gone a while she might be hungry maybe make enough for leftovers just in case, sure, maybe that bitch should just cook for herself though no god sorry. Ignore it ignore it fuck those cicadas are loud as shit. Visit dad at ward tomorrow and sneak leftovers. Dinner for two, Carrie will be hungry, should ask her what she wants for dinner wait where is Carrie? Sun is setting she should’ve been here already, first day of school ended hours ago should I get up and look? She does this sometimes she should be fine but what if she’s not what if something is wrong maybe I should get up but I don’t want to god my back hurts what if she’s hurt what if I—

What pulls Rory out of his messy head is the sound of a scraping key against a keyhole and the subsequent slam of a door opening. Rory’s body freezes, and his brain scrambles, begging him to get off of the floor in time before the person sees him, but the unbearable heat keeps him down. All he can do is crane his neck to look at who is entering the house and hope it’s not a client.

His thoughts and prayers are answered when Carrie stumbles past the door, staring him down. Rory can’t see her face very well, as the fleeting rays of the setting sun illuminate her from behind, casting leaving her face and in shadow. The open door temporarily lets in the songs of American goldfinches and common crows into the Mancer home, into Rory’s spirit. 

Temporarily being the keyword. Birdsong drowns under cicada calls as Carrie slams the door behind her and chucks her backpack down on the ground. She kicks her bag further to the side and lets out a strained huff. “Hi,” she signs, her right hand unusually stiff and curt as it moves up from her forehead.

“Hey,” Rory replies, his hand much less tense as he returns the movement. His face screws up, canine idly biting his lip. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Carrie’s hands are quick to respond, almost sloppy as she angrily throws her hands down to her side when she finishes. She stomps closer to Rory, her eyes never leaving him and his state on the floor.

Rory doesn’t press. It’s a delicate situation, deciding which questions to ask, what exactly to say, but he tests the waters with another question, “Tell me why you took so long, at least. Please.”

Carrie huffs and crosses her arms. Her way of saying she won’t talk, no matter what! She swears that she means it every time she does it. But when Rory gives her those big brother puppy eyes, worried and searching for an answer, she gives in without a second thought and uncrosses her arms. “I was just in the graveyard. Far end, near the overpass. That’s all. I promise.”

Rory sighs and visibly relaxes. “Good. Now, come here,” he says, patting the floor beside him.

Carrie looks to the side. Her frown is more noticeable in this angle. “The floor? I don’t need to do that anymore. I’m not a baby.”

Rory pats the floor harder, forcing a smile. “Come on,” he insists, “floor time. You need it. I need it.”

The frown on Carrie’s face doesn’t leave, but the body loosens up from its previous stiffness. She relents, and slowly she descends to his level to lie by Rory’s side. Her hair, short and blunt from a recent chop she had done herself only a few weeks earlier (she was found teary eyed and regretful in the bathtub the morning after), doesn’t fan out across the floor like Rory’s does, but it catches the light from a slit in the curtains that Rory’s couldn’t catch from his spot. 

Rory gives her some time to settle in. He closes his eyes and listens to her sigh and grumble, her frustration as unbearably hot as the surrounding air. She stews in her anger, eyes boring holes into the ceiling above. 

Rory wants so desperately to ask her why she’s acting this way. What could’ve happened in school to cause this? Although he knows the answer, not even buried that far back in his mind, he desperately wishes it will be anything else. He hopes with all his soul that it will ever be anything else than what he already knows. So, he knows better than to ask. At least for now.

For as much as Rory deliberates on asking Carrie the question, it is actually Carrie who turns to fully face him. She taps him on the shoulder, and he faces her the same way. “How’s your new job?” she inquires.

“Ugh, you don’t wanna know. It is actually insane how nothing can happen in that place. All I do is restock stuff that never sells and sit around on the company computer. I guess it leaves me with a lot of time to think, though,” Rory explains, exasperation oozing in every movement. The heat and sweat only exemplify his messy style.

Carrie can only let out a disappointed groan. “Are the movies at least watchable?”

“I promise, not one of them is even worth watching passively. I tried watching one during work in the back, and for a moment I thought that it would be more entertaining to sit and face the wall than just looking at that movie.”

Carrie pouts. “So, you can’t bring some home?” 

Damn. Rory’s eyes shift away to avoid looking at Carrie. “You wouldn’t like the movies, really…” he says. His eyes catch Carrie’s by accident, and that mixed look of residual frustration and genuine disappointment gets the better of him. “But, well, yes, I can bring them home. We can make fun of them together.”

Some part of Rory expects the news to light Carrie up. If not completely, then at least crack a smile. It does neither. She shrugs and lets her hands fall to the floor. Her nails absentmindedly pick at the carpet fibre, her eyes cast downwards, almost purposefully avoiding Rory. It stings, Rory won’t lie.

Would it be better to let her be? The delicate balance of being too pushy or too neglectful feels impossible to navigate, scorching Rory’s thoughts like a rough summer. For a moment, Rory leans into the thought of leaving Carrie alone. She could always come to him when she felt ready to. She knew that, right? She’s big enough to know that now. That's a whole other horror of itself that Rory isn’t ready to confront.

Rory thinks about how his parents left him be. Left him be, let him be. Let him shrivel under the overbearing sun.

No, he realizes. I can’t do that to her.

An inkling of an idea he had come up with days ago comes to mind. It is silly, but really, what can you expect from an older brother of any age? Rory taps Carrie on the shoulder. She looks at him from the corner of her eye, but he motions for her to fully face him. Carrie does as she’s asked, shifting her head. “What?” she asks, her face providing a tone to her sign that only cranky preteens can unleash.

Rory smiles at the stupid idea brewing in his head. “Do you know how fairies say ‘microwave’?” Rory asks. 

Carrie shrugs as best as she can while laying on her side. “How?” 

Rory raises his hand between them, then closes all his fingers, except his pinkie. He shifts his pinkie side to side in a quick waving motion. “ Microwave,” he says out loud for emphasis to no one but himself.

Carrie stares at Rory blankly. Then her lips tremble. Her back rises and falls too sharply for any normal breath.

Got you.

Before Carrie can call him dumb or insufferable, Rory interjects as quickly as he can, “Have you heard the actual story of King Kong?”

The question stuns Carrie out of her need to tease. “No?” 

“Well, it starts the same as the normal King Kong. King Kong is rampaging in New York City, stomping around and causing crowds to run in fear, when he spots the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He scoops her into one of his hands, and he climbs to the top of the Empire State Building, swatting away the helicopters and military that try to defeat him. Eventually, he finally gets to speak to the woman. He props her up on his left hand to speak to her better.” Rory props up his own left hand as he tells the story, and Carrie watches him with curious eyes.

“When King Kong tries to speak to the woman, she shakes her head and points to her ears. ‘I’m Deaf!’ she says. King Kong signs, ‘That’s okay. I know sign language. My parents are Deaf,’” Rory pauses for dramatic effect, and to give his hands a quick break from the sweeping, exaggerated gesture he has been doing. He hears a bitten-back giggle from Carrie, sees how her lips accidentally crack a smile, and he fights back his own grin to continue the joke. 

“And he continues in ASL. He says, ‘You are so beautiful! I love you. I want to marry—’” Rory slams his right hand onto his left one, the sign for ‘marry’. His eyes grow wide in shock, faux horror settling in on his face. “‘Shit!’” 

Raucous laughter fills Rory’s ears, drowning out the sounds of summer insects and failing fans. Rory hadn’t expected her to laugh so hard, he only expected to put a little smile on her face. He doesn’t complain, not at all; he relishes every single sound, watching as her whole body shakes in her big, charming laugh. 

Carrie is still a smiling and giggling mess when she can steady her hands enough to talk. “Where did you learn that?” she asks through jittery hands.

“You know how I said my new job has a computer? Well, it has access to the Internet. I’ve found some pretty cool forums on there. One of them was made by Deaf people and people with deaf family members. They shared some jokes with me that I could tell you,” Rory explains. 

A twinkle lights up in Carrie’s eye when he mentions the Internet. She’s practically sparkling when he talks about the forum. Rory tries to ride that high, elaborating, “Since barely anyone comes in right now, I use that computer and the Internet as much as I can. It’s really amazing. If you need anything, anything, tell me. I’ll try to find whatever you need there. At least until I save up enough to get my own computer, like I told you I would.”

Carrie is still beaming, warmth radiating from her like a gentle star. Rory can tolerate the warmth, even in his sweaty Planet VHS uniform and dirty carpet floors, just so long as it is Carrie’s warmth.

That is why it’s all the more shocking when that warmth is sapped from him not only a minute later. Her sparkle catches on something, flickering away in the humid wind, and her bright smile falters. “Can you find other schools on the computer?” she asks tentatively.

There it is. The small opening, a crack in her walls. Rory’s own smile falters as he tries to keep that crack open for as long as he can. “A new middle school? What’s wrong with the one you’re in now?”

“I don’t know…” Carrie’s hand stands still.

“You can tell me. I won’t tell our parents if you don’t want me to. Please, just tell me,” Rory begs. He’s so desperate in his begging that he starts mouthing his words in English.

Carrie stares at Rory with apprehension. Her body is tense once again, deliberating over her words. Finally, she gives in. “I can’t be in this school. It’s not for me,” she sighs.

Rory looks to the side. Right. Of course. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard. But I thought your EA was decent?”

“She’s not. She isn’t even as good as you, or even Mom! But,” Carrie balls up her fists in momentary frustration, but she quickly gets back on track, “but she’s not the issue. She’s not the issue. The issue is… um, it’s these girls. It’s these girls in the classroom next to mine.”

Rory scowls. Those fucking bastards. “Same ones from your old school?” he asks, barely containing his anger.

Carrie shrinks into herself. “One. Two others are new. They, um, make fun of me, like usual. But lately they’ve been making sure I see them. They—” she chokes on a cry building up in her throat, the most heartbreaking sound of Rory’s entire existence that she can’t hear— “they get mean right in front of me. They raised their voices at me during lunch, thinking I can’t tell the difference. They came up behind me during P.E and they scared me. They wrote the worst things in a note in my bag and— and I hate it! I hate them!”

Rory bites down on his lip, teeth digging into soft skin until Rory is sure if he goes any further, blood will rush out. It’s the only thing keeping the simmering rage from escaping him, from making him yell and demand Carrie tell him each girl’s name and where they lived. Carrie hates it when he gets like that. The terrible line he has to toe, between his feelings and keeping Carrie comfortable, feels impossible when listening to his little sister in pain.

He’s unnervingly quiet as Carrie vents. “I don’t want to go there anymore. I want to go to school with other people like me. I want to go to school where people like me. I want to be somewhere where nobody knows who me and my family are! I don’t want to be somewhere where people know—”

“Wait, family?”

Carrie clutches her hands together in an instant. Her eyes are wide with shock, like she didn’t mean to let the words slip out. 

Rory narrows his eyes. “Carrie. What are they saying about us?” he presses.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Carrie,” Rory emphasizes her sign name with a tight movement. “Tell me, please.”

“I’m done talking! Stop it!” Carrie shuts down the conversation, clenching her eyes tightly when Rory tries to talk to her. She rolls onto her back and pins her hands to the sides of her body, shaking her head from side to side. 

Carrie has never spoken to him like this. Rory’s heart pounds a mile a minute as he stares at her, mind racing with the worst of thoughts.

Fuck what are they saying what could they be possibly saying about me? What are they saying to her never seen her react this way is it getting worse how much worse? Need to ask if she has the note I need to fucking bring this up to the school I need to find those girls I need to find their parents. Need to make some complaints need to make a scene it’s the only way to get anywhere in this fucking shithole. They must be saying something about us, something about the family, about me. No no no Rory it’s about her it’s about Carrie she’s the one being bullied, it’s her it’s her she’s hurting she’s hurting so fucking much why aren’t you doing anything do something anything for fucks sake you worthless piece of shit goddamn it ignore that!

Rory shakes his head to rid himself of his thoughts. He searches for anything to focus his mind on instead. His eyes sweep down from Carrie’s shut eyes down to the hand on her side. It’s balled up into a fist once again, denying any sense of continuing any conversation with Rory.

Rory can’t help himself. He takes his hand and snakes it towards Carrie’s. His long, thin fingers gently pry open her fingers until he could slip his hand into her small, delicate palm. Carrie does not respond. Her eyes are closed, her hand loosening enough for Rory to hold, but she does not hold his hand back. 

Though his heart aches at the rejection, Rory takes it head-on. His fingers trace along her clammy palm until he opens it up, completely flat. He arranges his fingers in a particular pattern, with his pinkie, index, and thumb rising up while his ring and middle fingers fold down. He presses this sign into Carrie’s hand harder than he intends to, frantic, longing for her to feel the emotions he felt in this one sign: “I love you.”

There is reluctance in Carrie’s fingers when they first close down on Rory’s index. But when she feels the two folded fingers, her hand closes down on Rory’s hand fully, feeling around the sign without actually looking down at it. Every pass of her fingertips around Rory’s own makes her body tense up, her chest rise, her shoulders shake, until it crescendos into the smallest, weakest sob a girl can release. 

Rory closes his eyes and keeps his hand in Carrie’s palm. He feels her fingers loosely circling his knuckles when he unfurls his hand and pulls away from her. She needs some time alone, he convinces himself; even when her quiet cries and goldfinch songs haunt his mind. His hand retracts from hers, resting by his side similar to Carrie.

Not a second goes by before Carrie clamours to grab Rory’s hand. Her grip is tight on his sweaty palms when she presses “I love you” into his skin. She shoves her hand deep into his palm with a fervour that matches Rory’s. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” Carrie emphasizes by swaying her hand in Rory’s. 

Rory opens his eyes to look at Carrie and the first thing he notices is that a tear has fallen from his eye. He feels the teardrop rolling down his cheek, and he blinks hard to hold back anymore tears. What kind of strong, older brother is he if he cries in front of his little sister all the time? Surely, he can bottle it up tightly this time. He can hold the tears back and release them later, where she doesn’t have to see him. 

Then he sees Carrie lying on her side, looking back at him, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. And Rory cracks.

“Oh, Care Bear,” Rory whispers, signing his words as he speaks them out loud. He reaches his hand towards Carrie’s face and gently wipes away her tears with his thumb. His caress is uncharacteristically soft; a special compassion reserved only for his sister. Carrie matches his action, wiping away Rory’s own rolling tears, and Rory knows she feels the same.

When his thumb has cleared most of her tears, he pulls away to talk. “I’m gonna look into those schools, okay?” he promises. Carrie’s face lightens up, a dim glimmer of hope, but he interjects, “Look, I can’t guarantee that I will get you out of there immediately. I don’t know how it’ll fly with Mom and Dad, or how long the process would be. But I’ll figure it out. Even if it's further away, I’ll figure it out. I will get you out of there. Okay?”

Carrie does what she does best: she smiles. She smiles through her tears, so wide that it pokes dimples into her red cheeks, so bright it outshines the last tongues of sunlight peeking through the blinds. Rory stares at that smile and wishes he had what she did. “Thank you,” Carrie cries. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She throws her arms around Rory’s shoulders, her body on top of his upper body as she sobs into his neck. Rory hugs her back with all his might and wishes that could make everything better.

They can’t talk to each other like this. Not when they’re so close, not when their arms are preoccupied with clinging to each other like they are the only things in existence. But as they cradle one another in their arms, their heartbeats so prominent in their chests, talking is not a thought in their mind. Every shift in their grip, every rise and fall of their chest, every tear dry on their cheek, communicates their message just as loud as talking. Perhaps it is even louder.

Carrie is the one to break the spell. She lifts her head from the crook of Rory’s neck and looks down at him. Her eyes are red and puffy, but when she wipes her face, no fresh tears flow from her eyes. She tears herself away from Rory’s embrace, but only so she can return to laying on her side. “More comfortable on the floor,” she explains.

“I thought you weren't a baby anymore,” Rory teases. Carrie lets a quiet grumble and a roll of the eyes respond for her.

Rory reaches and brushes Carrie’s short, blonde hair towards the back of her head, feeling the choppy strands slip past his fingers with ease. He rests his hand on the back of her head, staring into her eyes with love, then cranes his head to plant a loving kiss on her forehead. 

Immediately, Carrie gasps, her face blooming pink and red. “Rory!! I’m in middle school now, I’m really not a baby!” she insists, embarrassment exuding off of her exaggerated signs. She covers her face, as if that could stop Rory’s kiss from hitting her skin, leaving enough room through her fingers so she can peek at Rory. 

“You’re still my little sister,” Rory laughs. A genuine laugh. He kisses another section of her head that her fingers couldn't quite cover, and she squeaks in embarrassment. “Loser,” he adds. Carrie swats his hands when he says that, whining loudly that he would say such a thing. Rory is not insulted; he went through this phase before. Worth it.

A door swinging open interrupts their season of laughter, and the choir of cicada calls pouring in.

Rory sits himself up, suddenly becoming aware of the sweat on his body once again. He wipes it off of his temple as he stares at the person who interrupts his time with Carrie.

“Candy” stares at her children on the floor and signs a sloppy “hello” at them. Rory and Carrie silently return the greeting, watching as she kicks the door closed behind her and walks past them, towards the couch across from their spot on the floor. Exhaustion seeps into the carpeted floor, staining it so clearly that Rory notices his own lack of energy hits him once again. Carrie seems equally drained, her smile faltering.

The mother collapses onto the couch, her arms and legs spilling across the couch. “Rory, did you make dinner?” their mother questions through voice, and voice alone. Rory glances down at Carrie, who glances back with a knowing look. He translates his mother’s question before he answers, in English and in ASL, “No, I didn’t. Sorry.”

A sigh escapes their mother’s lips. It is long and drawn out, but it is not disingenuous or even frustrating. “I’ll cook tonight, dear. What do you want? Could you ask Carrie?” she asks. One hand drapes across her waist, the other dangles off the couch. Motionless.

Rory repeats the question to Carrie.

“Just spaghetti is okay,” she says, although she looks a little disappointed. 

Rory repeats the answer to their mom.

“Oh, thank God. I can do that,” the Mancer mother says. She closes her eyes and sinks further into the beaten-up cushions. Her long, dulled blonde hair does not catch the light how Carrie’s does. It looks more like Rory’s hair. Looking at it, Rory can’t find it in him to be mad at her. “Yes, yes. Five minutes, though. Please. Need time to rest. Then I can cook. I can do that, I can do that…” Rory translates their mom’s droning hums. Carrie’s eyes gloss over his hands. All there is left in her eyes is an empty dissatisfaction. 

The Mancer household is miraculously still. Two children laying on the floor now, the mother on the couch. Summer sweat and Soul-sucking duties drain the Mancers until all is quiet.

Rory breaks the silence by getting up. “I need to change,” he tells Carrie. He’s getting sick of the sticky, sweaty fabric clinging to him in places he’d rather they not stick to. 

Carrie gets up with him. She clings to his uniform shirt to steady herself, her thin legs wobbling as she stands up. “I’m going to my room.” She pauses, then leans against Rory. Rory wraps his arm around her shoulder and hums. He knows she likes it when he does that.

Rory and Carrie begin to make their way to their rooms, down the hall, where Rory will take a left towards the basement and Carrie will take a right towards the second floor. 

“Wait!”

Rory turns back to the mother, tapping Carrie on the shoulder so she can do the same.

Mom is still laying on the couch, but she has her upper body propped up on the armrest of the couch to better face her kids. She flashes a weak but genuine smile. She raises her right hand and folds down her ring and middle finger. “I love you,” she whispers, just loud enough for Rory to hear you, swaying the sign from side-to-side. Rory and Carrie repeat it, a silent chorus of I love you, I love you, I love you.  

Mary, not “Candy” or “baby” or any other name, drops her arm onto her chest, then wraps her other arm over it. Oh, Mother Mary, she closes her eyes and rests with her arms hugging herself. It looks just like the sign for love. 

Rory tears his gaze away from his tired mother and towards his sister. “See you at dinner,” Rory says.

Carrie raises her hands as if to talk, but she stalls. Rory raises a brow. He waits for her to admit something tragic. He waits for her to drop some bombshell on him, like her worries about school, her worries about life, or what those kids at school were saying to her about their goddamn family. As if, somehow, that could given him closure to the conversation they just had.

Carrie wraps her arms around Rory in a quick hug, pulling away right as he is about to hug her back. “Thank you, again.”

This is fine, too. Rory lets out a sigh of relief. “It’s no problem,” he assures. “Anything for you.”

Carrie waves goodbye with her small hand. She turns and walks down to the stairwell on the other side of the hallway, and she ascends to her room on the upper floor.

Rory stands in the hallway, staring down where Carrie left, hands up to talk to no one in particular. He looks towards his mom as she rests on the couch and only then does he decide to go down. He descends into the hot basement with a heavy heart, Carrie’s terrifying words still weighing on him. 

Surely Rory can make Carrie’s life better, can’t he?

What a stupid question. Of course he can. That’s what good older brothers do.

Holed up in the depths of the Mancer house, Rory lies on his bed, and finds that he can’t hear the goldfinches and cicadas of the world above. Carrie, up in her room, shall never hear them at all.

[amnxsia]

nsfw alphabet yuka makoto

content: fluff, smut, crack and me trying to be funny

tw: gun play, breath play, and choking

word count: 1039

taglist: @namrekcaivel, @callmepromise, @namischild, @erens-piss-cleaner​

(let me know if you want to be included in the taglist)

a/n: the sniper mask brainrot has been getting to me so here some food next person might be eren or the whole jjk and aot universe cause im down bad hehe. and this is inspired by @pancakesv​ hcs of sniper so i just thought why not do my own version of it :)

A= Aftercare

What he’s like after sex

Yuka would be surprisingly very soft after sex, like he would bridal carry you to the bathroom to wash yo off, take showers with you, clean you up like between your thighs, fix your hair, help you with your makeup all of that type of stuff BUT ITS TOTALLY DIFFERENT when he’s railing you into the mattress with no sign of stopping all of that Yuka being soft and cuddly goes out of the window like he enters this mode sheesh just makes me want him more .

B= Body part

His favorite part of your body 

For Yuka it would probably be your collarbone and neck, he could easily get you flustered and worked up by just easily raking his fingers which are very cold down the side of your neck and into your collarbone, and if he has his gloves on which are warm it would be even worse could you just feel leather moving very very slowly in your collarbone and neck and if was he was feeling horny better believe that hand is going to be in your shirt lightly playing with your boobies. And speaking of boobies that would be another favorite part of your body I honestly see him taking off his mask and just smashing his face into them

C= Cum

His favorite place to cum & and what his cum is like

Yuka’s favorite place to cum on your body would be your stomach when your laying on your back and he cums he just likes to see his artwork in all it’s glory, you being his artwork cause he loves you & your body sm. His cum wouldn’t be to thick and it wouldn’t be watery??? it just slides down your throat with ease :’)

D = Dirty secret

A secret that he will never tell anyone

He likes it when you wear lace panties bras, and skirts so when the wind blows so he can see it but he acts flustered and oblivious cause his horny ass doesn’t wanna get caught LMFAO. But yeah he’s going to take this secret to the grave.

E =  Experience

How experienced he is in sex  

I think Yuka is decent at sex during your first time he would most definitely be flustered a lot and he would awkward but then you guys do it more and more times and the awkwardness ceases and then he’s more confident in himself and his abilities to please you during sex.

F = Favorite position 

His favorite position during sex

Yuka’s favorite position during sex would be reverse cowgirl. He just wants to be with you and get all the physical contact as possible!! He’s just touched starved for u poor bby <3 

 G = Goofy 

How he acts during sex

Yuka would most definitely not act goofy during sex since that it is a intimate and scared time that means sm to him he would most likely act very concentrated 😏 if ykyk

H = Hair

How trimmed he is down below

YUKA IS 100% SHAVED, TRIMMED DOWN THERE LADIES AND GENTLEMANS 😳🤝

I = Intimacy 

How intimate he is

Again Yuka is 100% intimate with you he just likes to be there with you in the moment basically nothing else matters to him then making love to you and with you <3

J = Jacking off

How much he likes to jack off

Alright so I could be wrong about this one folks but I’m going to try. I think Yuka only likes to jack off when he’s just stressed in general like he just needs to release some pent up emotions 😏

K = Kinks

Yuka’s kinks

Breathplay, gun play, and choking << lightly though cause he doesn't wanna hurt you <3

L= Location

Where Yuka likes to get down and dirty 😏

I think Yuka would probably only like to have sex in the bedroom or the couch in your house, away from prying eyes

M = Motivation

What get’s him “worked up”

Just seeing you physically active means bONER aCTIVATED 

N = No

What he says no to

Yuka would most likely say no to heavy bdsm

O = Oral 

Does he prefer to receive or give?

It’s a 50/50 thing. He likes both but really prefers giving.

P = Pace

What’s his speed 😏

Again folks I’m not so sure about this one but I’ll give it a shot. I think Yuka would probably last a good three - five rounds, cause this baby is so tired for some reason jdjhfhfhj but we love him all the same.

T = Toys

You guys don’t use toys. 

U = Unfair

He’s a cocky and mean little shit 🙄👊

HE LOVES TO TEASE YOU SO MUCH AND FOR NO REASON LIKE YOU GUYS COULD BE RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DO AND YOUR CLOSE AND HE COULD FEEL IT AND HE JUST SLOWS  DOWN LIKE BITCH- 🚶‍♀️😐. OR TAKES IT OUT COMPLETELY. But you love it when he’s being like that though 🥱.

V =  Volume

How loud he can get and what noises he makes 😳

He makes these cute little whimpers and grunts when he’s being a sub, it’s so cute it makes you wanna stop and give him a bunch of hugs and kiths 😚. He can get a bit loud depending on the situation but he never gets like: AAAAGGHHH FUCK OH MY GOD (IM SO SORRY IM CACKLING I HAD TO) 😭.

W: I couldn’t think of anything for this letter don’t hate me 😞.

Damn papa you a rare breed, no comparing 😩☝

X: X-ray

His dick 😳

Ok ok, Yuka’s dick is probably a 12 inch  6-7 in length he’s trimmed and clean down there too. *lip bite*

Y: Sex libido 

How much he wants to get down 😏🤲.  

How horny he is basically.

I’d say around 6.5 - 8.5. But if you’re not in the mood that’s perfectly okay cause he likes cuddling and doing other things with you.

Z: I couldn’t think of anything for this letter too don’t hate me 👊👊.

And it’s motherfucking scary, trying to keep him cause I found him 😁☝.

[theres-a-bea]

Dimonds are a (material) gworl's best friend pt. 2

a.k.a. even more engagement ring slander with the tot boys ft. the round brilliant diamond cut and the slander it DESERVES

tw!: swearing! very hot takes on how the rings should've looked like, because i've seen thousands of engagement rings to keep my mouth shut about the rings mihoyo just gave us + swearing!

link to pt. 1 - here!

Oh boy this is going to be controversial because these two rings slayed a little more than the first two.

They might've slayed but they didn't slay as much to me. 😈 Compared to the other two, I genuinely do not have much to say about them in terms of design slander because I'm probably not as angry about them as I was with Vyn's and Luke's.

But hear me out anyway

note: based on personal opinion, i am no design expert, this is simply just a hot take because i'm TIRED of seeing beautiful designs being fucked up by the round brilliant cut when there are literally 108302840293 ways to cut a mf diamond like okay it's classic, sure, but that doesn't mean it looks good with every single design there is.

Marius Von Hagen

Personally, I do not have beef with the centre stones, but I will slander the ring anyway because we're here to talk shit and not praise it.

I am a firm believer of "if it's not broken, don't fix it." but the problem with this one, is that my beef is with the band itself, and not with the stones. This honestly slayed.

Okay Maybe it's a little Broken:

I can't call the mount uglee, but I HATE it. It's doing too much, with the beaded-type squiggly line running along the middle? If you're gonna do a filigree ring, do it RIGHT for fuck's sake, don't give us this lazy ball chain looking thing down the middle. Literally that's all that's wrong with it, because it looks like it's gonna be a bitch to clean and get caught on things. Small price to pay for beauty ig.

Also what the fuck is holding that giant ass rock to the goddamn ring bc I know DAMN WELL not a single jeweller will let a stone, let alone a pear cut that big be held up by four fucking prongs only??? Where is the support? Without it nobody can wear this bitch ANYWHERE. That jeweller's almost as bad as the bitch who invented tension mount rings.

The back is a little too wide, and should be tiny-fied, so it's not uncomfortable once it's worn with a wedding band. I have no issues with the front design, the centrestones are cool, sparkly, pear-cut, hitting us with the lil marquise cut sidestones (also lowkey reminds me of rapunzel's tiara?? for some reason) and the little amethysts to the side, but the back has to be sealed off and shouldn't be left as a blank ass gap? maybe merge the two bands together? That's literally it. Aside from the band itself, Marius slayed with this one.

note: all middle finger emojis from here on are directed to the Brilliant Round and to the Brilliant Round ONLY.

Artem Wing

I usually do not give in to bias, but listen, hear me out, he slayed.

Design that won't piss me off if i wore it? Slay. Sun and Moon theme with a lil star that was clearly taken DIRECTLY from his logo? Slay. Practical and pretty? Slay. Centrestone and metal choice?

Did not Slay.

(Hotel? Trivago.)

Undoing the Naurifications:

One of the naurificating factors of this ring is the size of the stone against the four tiny fucking ass prongs that are holding that diamond. Baby, that bitch is hanging on for dear life.

We're going for the sun and moon concept, right? The prongs could be the sun's rays. Why not add two more? why not make it EIGHT? the sun in artem's logo has EIGHT. We're going subtly referential AND functional, okay? fuck whoever designed this ring with four goddamn prongs ONLY. This bitch needs SIX to EIGHT or that motherfucker is falling the fuck off.

Now for the stone, in this case, I am a Round Brilliant Cut (🖕🏻) Hater first and an Artem girlie second. However, I almost had to swallow my pride here because the design's whole point is having a round stone. This is literally THE one design out of all 4 that could get away with the Round Brilliant Cut (alkslwmslslams 🖕🏻). BUT, as a good lawyer should, I found a few loopholes.

Introducing my two besties the rose cut (l) and the jubilee cut (r). Look at them. Gorgeous, gorgeous girlies.

The jubilee cut doesn't have a flat surface on top, so, ✨maximum sparkle✨ in the sun. I mean, isn't it what it's supposed to be? The Sun? The jubilee cut is designed to be for bigger stones, and since there's a little space between the original stone and the moon, you can switch it up with a jubilee cut so they're snuggled together. The downside of the jubilee cut though, is that it's HUGE huge, which means it's going to stick way out of your finger. However, the answer to that is my girl the rose cut.

But Trixie, where's the sparkle?

Nobody is allowed to slander my girl the rose cut, because she may be a little flat, but she is designed for lowlight conditions, which means she sparkles best in the night, especially in candlelight. Baby, she is the sun at night. The rose cut is also a bigger cut, since it's supposed to be a little wide, so it could also do the cute lil sun-moon cuddle that I mentioned earlier.

The round brilliant (🖕🏻) lil star to the side can stay. It needs to sparkle. Although, it should've been a sapphire, like his favourite cufflinks.

this was fun, but i need to go to bed now. if i got a little crazy that's because i was probably a little delirious ok love you bye mwa !

[jomamaofficial]

You should have said something pt.10 (Bakugou x fem!Reader)

A/N: Ello there besties, thank you for being patient with me. Thank you so much for your lovely comments and I’m so glad you guys can feel the sadness, pain and frustration from my writing, it’s all I have ever wanted. Edit: Part 11 TW: Domestic Abuse, Knives and Nooses. Masterlist Tags: @spicy-therapist-mom @speedmetalqueen @silentw-lkr @loki-an-idiot @clickbait-official @captainchrisstan @kamalymaly @idk-sam @runrabbitrun3 @power-house-fan12

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

“I’m home Ei.”

Eijiro slowly tilted towards him. His hero, his everything, his lover seemed so distant now. It didn’t matter that Suki spent the day and the night at his place. Eijiro was foolish to think that it was fine.

It was suffocating to be near the same man he could kiss for hours without ever pulling away.

“Ei…” Katsuki faltered in his steps, lingering beside the door frame.

“What’s wrong Ei?” he edged on, prying in his lover’s eyes, trying to get an answer.

“Did you get hurt? Did something happen on duty?”

Kastuki was on the verge of getting desperate, ready to leave his things on the floor and get a response out of the silent man looking ever so slightly at him.

Eijiro shuffled underneath his sheets, chewing on his lips, looking anywhere except for him. The golden rays peaked through. Katsuki’s blonde locks were glowing a halo behind his head, the light highlighting his well-trained arms casting a warm shadow on their bedroom floors. He looked like an angel from heaven, strong and righteous.

Looks can be deceiving though. A hero he was indeed… but not for everyone.

His angel was killing someone, day by day.

The same man who locked his lips with Ei’s and told him he loved him was using those very lips to berate you and tear you down. It didn’t matter even if it was to the point where you couldn’t find support to build it back again. His words twisted everything because he was never wrong. He could never be wrong. It was all you and everyone believed it.

Suki, Ei’s angel would caress his lover’s face in the night and pull him close with the very hands he made your blood run cold with.

Sobs. That’s all he heard from your mouth. Broken breaths and whimpers. It was all a façade, that smiling when your husband touched him the way he was meant to touch you.

“I’m not hurt.” Eijiro paused to look at him, his heart aching at the sight of his hero. His heart ached because he wasn’t a hero to you, he was the villain.

“But I know they are, Y/N.” Eijiro held a breath, averting his gaze from Katsuki’s building rage. He wasn’t scared. At least he wasn’t as scared as you would be if you saw his knuckles white from clenching them, the smell of smoke wafting from his hands.

“You have one minute to explain yourself, Eijiro.”

Wincing at his own boyfriend wasn’t a proud moment for the one and only Red Riot. Eijiro… He let out a scoff, a bitter grin resting on his face.

I’m Eijiro to him now.

“They made dinner for us, Suki. They did all that even when you fucking came in the door, called them a bitch and kissed me in front of their eyes.”

There it was, that blank face again. He wasn’t angry, he was genuinely confused as to why Eijiro was sputtering all this out, guilt swelling his throat.

“I can’t do this anymore Katsuki. I can’t be the reason for why Y/N…” He tapered off, his emotions overpowering his words. He didn’t even want to look at Katsuki because he knew, he knew he wouldn’t understand. He knew he’d be disappointed and Eijiro couldn’t bear seeing anything but love and care in his eyes.

“Take your stuff, please” his tears felt cool on his skin, “we can’t see each other anymore.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Katsuki yelled, his neck straining, veins painfully visible.

Kirishima bit down on his lips, his head throbbing as he fought the tears back.

“I’m sorry…” His sniffles were the last thing Bakugou wanted to hear.

[yanderes-stuff]

Sorry for the delay, but I think Habit would make a pretty wacky yandere, possibly a manipulative and sadistic yandere.

Just to be clear, I do not condone yandere behavior, and the stories I write should not be interpreted as romance novels.I think of my writing as dreadful nightmare stories about fictional characters becoming so lovesick to the point where it's incredibly fucked up. 

Characters: Habit, Vinny, and lastly, Michael 

TW: Drugging, mentions of self harm and injuries regarding knives

Words:1.5k

You met Michael in a New Jersey mental ward when you decided to visit a mentally ill relative as some much needed company for them and it just so happened that you decided to sit at Michael's table at lunchtime when he was sitting all alone. At first, you thought it was a bad sign, but seeing him so calm yet miserable by looks alone made your heart sink so you gave him a sympathetic look.

When Michael looked at you, surprised by your actions, when you decided to make small talk about various subjects with him, which was a pleasant experience for Michael to finally have a casual conversation with someone who wasn't a doctor or nurse, when unexpectedly you slid him a small ripped paper with your Number engraved with a black pen, which he kept in his possession afterward when he was let out,

He decided to contact you, and as time passed and he began texting you more frequently, the two of you began to get closer, much to Michael's delight, but things were getting tense when Michael struck a deal with Patrick to manipulate you into moving in with him in exchange for him avoiding harming himself on propose, which worked out well, especially when you admitted you had romantic feelings for him.

But Evan also befriended you through Michael, and you hit it off almost immediately, having sleepovers at Evan's house while you brought Michael, which made for some of the most memorable times in your life; not a weekend was spent apart from each other, but over time you began to notice Evan staring at you with delusional eyes that were unlike his occasional glance in your direction that you didn't mingle with.

He looked at you not as a friend, but as a desired object; it was becoming uncomfortable, and after some thought, reflection, and fighting over yourself, thinking it was a petty thing to do, but when the staring got you to your wits end, you decided to confess to Michael for comfort about the uneasy staring, you saw his face contort into a grimace, and now he, too, was acting unlike himself.

"If you catch him staring at you again you tell him to stop and if he doesn't...promise me you'll come and tell me." Michael stated, his tone sounding odd and his face now stern as his hands clasped on your shoulders.

"I promise," you replied, trying to explain why Michael was so serious about something as insignificant as being bothered by Evans' gaze, but chalking it up to him being overprotective.

After that, you started to notice that Micheal was hovering around you more often when Evan was present and Evans' staring ceased when he was around, but even then, you felt a burning sensation in the back of your head when you believed you were alone, but you just dismissed it as paranoia 

That's where Vinny came in after you told Michael about your paranoia; you met through a group chat after you met Evan, and what set him apart from Michael was that he listened to your uneasy ranting without being overbearing, and Michael trusted Vinny. However, your lover began to act differently around Evan, and you decided to give them space and leave them alone for a while.

And at that time, Vinny contacted you to see if you were okay, and you confirmed your well-being to him, and your text quickly snowballed into a friendship. You two were constantly texting each other for comfort, but on one cold winter day, he asked to meet up with you at your house at the same time Michael was visiting the local grocery store, so you thought why not and accepted his request.

You noticed how stiff and uneasy he seemed upon his arrival, but you just shrugged it off as him being nervous at your house for the first time. After some awkward silence and getting comfortable, you made some friendly conversation when he parted his lips to make a request "Sooooooo would you like anything to drink, maybe some water, soda, or tea?"

"Oh yeah, sure thing man, I would love some water right now. it's in the bottom of the fridge in the cabinet along with the other drinks feel free to help yourself," Vinny said in a soft, trusting tone, his legs crossed adoring a crimson and black flannel along with baby blue aged jeans adjacent to you at the time you were parched from lack of water.

You said, smiling warmly at the man. His raven hair seemed messy as he stood up and strolled into your kitchen.

You were focused on the TV as he came back and handed you a water bottle. His hands were still clammy for reasons unknown to you, as you sipped from the foggy icy-cold plastic bottle, you failed to notice that your vision was slipping over a long span of time. 

The last words you heard before slipping completely are "I'm so sorry... habit made me do it. Please forgive me!"

You awoke on the frigid floor of what appeared to be a shed, thin rays of moonlight beamed from the window. Realizing you were in danger, you thrashed as much as you could, but the bindings on your legs and arms wouldn't loosen. They appeared to be zip ties, which caused your thrashing to cut into your skin, leaving uncomfortable marks in their place.

It was then you heard a deep rough voice aimed in your direction, 

"Are you awake yet" His question was straight to the point and you instantly recognized it as Evan, but for some reason, his voice sounded way different than his normal voice?. 

"E-Evan what's going on?" You inquired, and thoughts raced through your mind about how Michael must be worried to death because he couldn't find you or Vinny, and you haven't responded to any texts from him, which he was bound to do if he couldn't find you.

"Hate to break it to you but Evans is not here anymore. I'm Habit and you're here because Michael doesn't deserve to have you and trust me that idiot does not know what's best for you like I do." He stated, sounding amused by your question. Then he paused as if determining what to say next "you see the problem with him is that he doesn't bother to protect you." He chuckled ominously

"Protect me fro-" just then he cut you off rather impolitely "from anybody you don't understand how fragile you are and I don't know what it is about you but I want to keep you for myself and away from HIM." He paused again you noticed that he was getting visibly excited

"I tried to convince Michael to let me take you for myself, but he wouldn't budge and that son of a bitch Patrick refused my request too." He said his tone seeping venom

"but don't worry you don't have to worry about him, coming for you he's too much of a coward if you didn't already know." You flinched when he said that last part and felt rage flow through your veins

"Untie me RIGHT FUCKING NOW YOU PSYCHO!" You exclaimed you wanted nothing more than to be back at home spending time with your boyfriend but he glared at you before speaking

"Looks like Michael didn't teach you manners looks like it's up to me now to teach you some respect, and I'll teach you how to cherish me as much as I do you while I'm at it" He was giving that God awful stare of dark obsession again as he emphasized on that last part

You didn't say anything. You were too shocked and didn't know how to react to his words, but you didn't even have time to react when you heard footsteps coming your way as you felt the cold of a metal knife gently slice at your flesh 

Gentle slices turned into harsh strikes up and down your body as you screamed in pain, and Habit took pleasure in each one. You just hoped to God Michael or the cops would come to your rescue so you could see the light of day again.

But you knew deep down that was unlikely.

[alirhi]

okay. let's do this shit.

Guess what, bitches? Mama bear's back and angry all over again. Remember when I said I might dive into a ragepost about how Bucky's treated after completing the one about Loki? This is it. This is the post. Welcome to fucking Thunderdome.

I will actually try to keep it civil. No promises, but I'll try. and I will not be accepting "constructive criticism" about my rage. Just so we're clear.

Got it? Good. Let's dive in.

In case you don't want to read the whole thing (I know I get wordy) here's what this whole post will boil down to: BUCKY NEVER HAD A FUCKING CHOICE. NEVER. NOT ONCE IN HIS ENTIRE ADULT LIFE.

Now, quick reminder: I don't read comics. I know nothing about Bucky's comic canon, except what Sebastian liked to bring up as often as possible during TWS/CW promotions: at some point, Bucky boned Nat. XD Since Bucky only exists as a Marvel property, I won't be bitching about other source material being disrespected like I did with Loki. This is all MCU, my dudes. And honestly? That's enough, because though we don't see nearly enough of Bucky for my liking, we do manage to get a rich, deep backstory to him in the material we're given, partly thanks to better writing in the early days of the MCU, and partly thanks to Sebastian Stan's phenomenal acting. Unlike the writers of the Loki series, Seb knows how to show, not tell. And gods, what stories those eyes show...

Let's start with the army. In an old post illustrating what an absolute BAMF Bucky Barnes truly is, I mistakenly said he enlisted, and a kind soul educated me on the incredible attention to detail Marvel used to pay - in this case, Bucky's ID number. 32557038. As this kind, eagle-eyed soul pointed out to me, the first two digits of that number - 32 - signify that Bucky was drafted, specifically from the NY, NJ, DE area (that last part is rather obvious, as Bucky and Steve are from Brooklyn lol). Bucky didn't choose to go to war. He was drafted. He was forced to fight, or go to prison.

Bucky was born in 1917, which means - again, as someone pointed out to me a while back - he came of age during the Great Depression. As a child, he would likely have seen his parents living comfortably and able to shower each other and him and his sister with gifts and fun memories, and then POOF. Stock market crashes when he's only 12-years-old, and life becomes brutal and painful. He manages to have some fun with his best friend Steve, and spends his teens/early 20s chasing girls and keeping his stupid, stubborn, tiny friend from getting beaten to death.

Steve constantly has something to prove. He's absolutely got what my mom always called "little man's disease", and Bucky's just doing his best not to roll his eyes too much at this asthmatic chihuahua constantly trying to beat up Tibetan mastiffs. While Steve keeps lying on his enlistment forms (an actual crime) trying again and again to get into the army and prove what a badass he is (definitely not), Bucky's had enough trauma and upheaval in his life and he just wants his stupid friend to calm tf down and live. Enjoy the fact that he doesn't have to go to war and get his limbs blown off.

And then he gets fucking drafted. This sweet, resigned realist who knows exactly how dangerous the war really is, is forced to put on a uniform and go fight strangers alongside other strangers thousands of miles from everything he knows. And on his last night of freedom, when he just wants to hang out with his friend, see some cool gadgets, and dance with a pretty girl, his stupid angry chihuahua friend feels the need to lie and try to enlist again.

Okay. Gotta get back on track. Ragepost about mistreatment of Bucky, not how much Steve annoys me. Sorry. Anyway...

Bucky's drafted, accepts his shitty lot with a brave smile, and is shipped off to Europe, where he is captured by HYDRA and presumed by the Allies to be KIA. Instead, he's strapped down, tortured, and given the HYDRA version of the super serum against his will. Steve rescues him, and Bucky knows he can't leave his idiot friend to his own devices to get his head blown off, so he dives right back into the fray. And then he falls off a cliff, loses most of his left arm, and is declared dead...again. This one's pretty damn valid, though lol. Without the serum no one knew he'd been shot up with, there is no way he would have survived that fall.

Here is where Bucky's story gets truly heartbreaking: His autonomy, his ability to consent is stripped from him through electroshock torture/brainwashing. The trigger words are conditioned into him during this process, and boom. Ten words in Russian, and Bucky Barnes is gone. Even the confused, hurting shadow of him is gone, leaving only a perfectly obedient killing machine, with Bucky's pretty face. He's strong as all hell, though, so they can't keep him fully under their control for long, not without more torture, when the disorientation of being fucking frozen wears off on longer missions.

I cannot stress this point enough, guys: Bucky. Had. No. Choice. Not like the draft, where his choices (go and get shot at, refuse and go to jail, or dodge and run to Canada) just suck. No, he literally didn't have a choice. He had his ability to choose stripped from him. If that's too complex a concept to really sink in, try this: His brain was fucking raped. Repeatedly. For decades. Nothing the Winter Soldier ever did was Bucky's fault. Nothing. Ever. Not remotely, no matter how you fucking slice it. Bucky is not an assassin. I almost said "not a killer", but he was a soldier, and a sharpshooter. He definitely killed when he was himself, but that was in a war, not a series of assassinations.

So far, imo, so good. This is just a rundown of Bucky's pre-show backstory. I don't love what he had to suffer, but I do love how it was treated in the movies. People were afraid of him, but when they knew the whole situation, Steve, Nat, and Sam rallied behind him. Natasha had plenty of reason to want the Winter Soldier dead; he'd tried to kill her multiple times and almost succeeded. Sam had no reason to help Bucky at all; he didn't know him, didn't trust him, and again, TWS had tried to kill him. But he stood by Steve, and when Bucky showed the clear difference between himself and TWS, Sam stood by him, too, and fought alongside him.

And it's very realistic, imo, that Tony didn't give a single fuck that Bucky had no choice. He watched this man murder both of his parents on tape. If TWS had killed my dad and I saw proof of it, I'd try to kill Bucky, too. Grief wins out over logic. Most emotions usually do. And that's a very important point we're going to come back to in a few minutes.

Bucky was really only in like ten minutes at most of IW and Endgame, and for multiple reasons I hate those movies, so I'm just gonna skip them, kay? Kay. On to the main event!

Here's where I get pissed off. Even if I didn't have an unhealthy attachment to this character, or the depth of appreciation for his tragic backstory that I do, the lack of continuity between the movies and the show alone would still piss me off. It always does. Don't even get me started on Joss "Continuity? What continuity?" Whedon and his (iconic, but flawed) shows. Ahem. Back on track...

Let me just get one little thing out of the way real quick: I fucking LOVE The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I love it. This show amazed me when I first watched it, and I still love it after many more viewings lol. I have only ever watched it all the way through without skipping over as much John Walker shit as possible the one time lol but I love how Sam and Bucky interact, and I fucking adore how Sam's arc was treated. I just wish they'd show the same care and attention to Bucky.

Because what they did to Bucky in this show is a fucking travesty. There was a tiny ray of hope in the pilot, when he called out Dr. Bitchface for being a terrible shrink. I thought that would be the start of him realizing he needed to find someone else and ignore the damaging shit that woman was telling him. But...nope. No such luck.

The show really had a strong start, I'll give it that. We see Bucky having nightmares of his time as TWS and struggling to hide how his traumatic memories are affecting him as he tries to live in the world again. He befriends the father of one of HYDRA's victims, which can't be good for Bucky (and we're shown it's definitely not when he sees the shrine in Yori's home to his late son) but it's sweet, how he's trying to connect and reach out to someone who's hurting and lonely.

They drop the ball a little with the whole... Bucky can hack a fucking car, but can't figure out Tinder thing. Had they just run with the fandom interpretation of the tiger photos line, that it shows that Bucky is bi and left it at that, I'd have been okay with it (and no, that is not because I ship Sam/Bucky. it's because Bucky is and always has been a certified nerd who loves technology and has consistently shown very little issue learning to use new gadgets). The outdated flip phone he handed his terrible court-mandated shrink was a burner; I liked that theory when I read it, especially since it's the only time we see him even holding a phone that old lol. This all could have fit the "Bucky is a sassy bisexual nerd" narrative and it'd be okay. Instead, the director was like "NOOOOOO that line was just to show how old he is and how he can't figure out all this newfangled technology!" Woman, you had him remotely driving someone else's vehicle with a tablet. That is NOT a man who can't figure out a damn smart phone!

But that's just a minor annoyance. What fills me with absolute rage is how everyone - not just the shitty therapist who lashes out at and purposely triggers her traumatized patients, but EVERYONE - Sam, Zemo, people who should fucking know better ALL treat him like he's a psychopath and a ticking time bomb. Like he chose to take the serum and he chose to kill for HYDRA, and he's just seen the error of his ways. *barf*

Bucky in the movies is established to be a victim, through and through. His guilt over what he was forced to do is natural, and that he sees himself as a monster makes sense... but that doesn't mean it's correct. The one and only thing I ever liked about Steve Rogers is at least he got it. He pointed out that none of it was Bucky's fault, he tried to show him that he was worth saving. That's the other reason I refuse to talk about Endgame. This post will get a WHOLE LOT LONGER and a lot fucking angrier if I open that door.

Zemo supposedly knows everything about HYDRA and super soldiers... So why does he treat Bucky like he's a corrupt serial killer? (this, for the record, is why I don't like Zemo) Why does he never point out that Bucky was given the serum against his will, or that his actions, when he had control of them, proved that he was never corrupted? Bucky never wanted to become superhuman. Bucky didn't even want to fucking fight!

Sam, despite constantly resisting the label, is shown very clearly to be Bucky's friend. By episode 3, he cares. He worries about how Bucky is getting lumped in with the other super soldiers in Zemo's speech... But he never really defends him. He says "what about Bucky?" but he doesn't point out that Bucky's a good man, he's fought so hard to help people, he does everything he can to avoid killing... And that fucking speech in episode 5. I was with him on "you gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are." I was like "YEAH! Tell him, Sam! Bucky, you're WORTH SAVING, boo! Your value does not hinge on someone else's opinion of you!" And then... Sam dropped the ball.

He not only continued the disturbing pattern of victim-blaming in this show, and in Marvel/Disney properties in general, but he gave really dangerously bad advice! No one in their right mind, mental health professional or no, would EVER tell a traumatized former assassin (whether he was responsible for his actions or not) to go confront his victims' families out of the blue with no warning and no one to mediate and keep things from going to shit. Yori already knew his son had been murdered because he was in the "wrong place, wrong time." How is it being "of service" to tell him you're the one who killed him?! Remember how I said Tony's reaction to learning the full truth about his parents' deaths was valid and would be an important point later? Hi! Welcome to later. THAT is the natural reaction to facing the man who murdered your loved one(s). And even if Yori didn't get angry and lash out, HOW IS IT "HELPING" HIM OR BRINGING HIM "CLOSURE" TO KNOW THAT HIS FRIEND KILLED HIS FUCKING SON?!?!?! This man befriended him, bonded with him, watched him grieve... And now he's learning this is the man who caused all his pain and heartache to begin with? That is so toxic and psycho I just... I can't even... UGH.

And then there's the equally toxic and damaging "deeply traumatized person just needed a stern talking to and a hug to be ALL BETTER AGAIN" ending. I loved seeing Bucky happy and socializing, but it was too soon, and it was unearned. And it sends a fucking awful message to people actually struggling with PTSD, and to their loved ones who don't know how to help them. Heaping more blame on them and then hugging it out is NOT helpful!

This show could have been damn near perfect with just two changes. That's all. Just two. 1) Someone, anyone, bringing up the reasons why Bucky was never a villain in his presence. Someone being in his corner and reminding him, like Steve did, that it wasn't his fault and he's not going to "snap". 2) More time devoted to Bucky's healing. Actual fucking healing, not the shit they tried to pass off as a magic fix-all. He can have his happy barbecue moment, just don't frame it as "everything's great now!" Healing isn't linear, and there will be both good days and bad. Some of the most fragile people in the world have the brightest smiles.

If we get a season 2, which this amazing show absolutely deserves, and they address this stuff, all will be forgiven in my book. Expanding on his story and his journey toward healing will help to reframe that "happily ever after" garbage as something more realistic. But as it stands now... Fuck Marvel.

[haikyuuhimbosandhypebeasts]

Heliotrope

Here’s my submission for the Forget Me Not collab for Anisylum! Please note the TW as it is VERY heavy. This piece is entirely SFW though!

Ship: Tsukishima Kei x GN! Reader Genre: Angst, but some fluff in some places. Word Count: 2.2k  Trigger/Content Warnings: near death experience, hospitalization, COVID-19, vomit mention, amnesia after hospitalization, a suicide attempt is briefly mentioned, swearing because this is by me Sexy Sexy Masterlist: here!

Sand clung to skin and the harsher rays of light that usually cascaded and burnt you had died away into a fading tangerine glow. You perched comfortably on the sand, taking note of the undulating waves- they were like you in the sense that while you could crash down hard on the opposition, you would shy away in a fragile manner when faced with gentle treatment. Perhaps it was that you felt you weren’t worth such luxuries that you found it hard to make friends through your first few years of high school. Perhaps it was trying to push people away because you were afraid yet alarmingly aware of your mortality. Perhaps it was something else entirely, something you weren’t quite ready to come to terms with. What you did know was that you weren’t alone in the violent struggle through high school to make friends while you had your walls up. Next to you was someone you never thought you’d share your favorite place with; in any terms you found this boy appalling with his behavior. So appalling, you saw yourself in the way he closed himself off and cut those close with tongue lashings. You knew this only through another friend who took issue with him as you went to another school in an entire other prefecture. Words mauled their way out from your throat, breaking the silence between you and Tsukishima Kei. “I won’t ask you why you tried to do what you did today. But I will ask if there’s anyone you can talk to in your life.” You didn’t understand yourself. Why would you say that…? You don’t remember anything like this at all… His response was equally incoherent and odd. “Okay, but I’ll kill you if you go back on it.” When you opened your mouth to reply to him, the ground around you suddenly reared up like a defensive serpent. A pillar of beach sand forced its way from the ground into your throat, suffocating and trapping your lungs in permanent fullness. You could only gag and cry, unable to even see Tsukishima past the torrent of sand breaking into your body with the intent to kill you slowly…

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You woke up once more in that dull grey-blue and white room with the only sounds you could properly process being the beep of a heart monitor somewhere behind you. You had managed to halfway curl into somewhat resembling the fetal position, but something kept making you cough and gag as your throat was caught. You move your hand to whatever is catching and about to make you vomit- a tube. This tube, you followed, was in your nose good and solid, and you felt it deep enough in your sinuses you didn’t dare try to pull it out. Moving your hands felt foreign like you had forgotten how to process being human and natural motions like that. You testingly ran your right hand down the tube, taking care to not tug and cause discomfort. Your other hand came to rest on your face. It was slick from sweat, likely due to whatever the fuck you just had a dream about. At the corner of your lips was another tube and when you followed where it led it was taped to the side of your face. You lick your lips and manage to almost fall into a haze until you see movement for the first time in what feels like forever. To be fair, it is one of the most jarring appearances of a person you’ve seen in your whole life to what you can recall. A person in a full-body hazmat suit enters your room through a door you hadn’t even processed was there, then greets you as casually as they can through a plague-resistant suit. “Hey there.” You squint at them. Yeah, you have no fucking idea who this cosplayer in a hospital is, and while you should probably be polite, you feel like you got ran over not once but twice.  You try to speak to them, but you can’t. You don’t have the air for it, it’s like you have no control over your breathing. Clarity washes over you. You’re hospitalized. These are tubes because you were asleep and weren’t breathing or eating right. The realization must show on your face because your nurse speaks up again. “Don’t worry about me too much, we’re just gonna check your vitals and if you feel up to it, we can see how you do without the ventilators.” You try to manage out a “whoopee”, which unimpressively comes out as some form of odd wheeze, and your nurse begins by grabbing the blood pressure cuff covered in protective plastic while they wear a sympathetic expression.

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Once you were off the ventilator, the nurse informed you about what had happened. Apparently, an ambulance was called when you were unresponsive and nearly blue in the face, sitting in front of your refrigerator with the door open. You were diagnosed with a severe case of COVID-19, something you had feared would wipe you out entirely and turn you past tense since its spread in your country. This fear wasn’t entirely irrational, either- you were immunocompromised and have been since you were a child. You grew up with being careful around others and hearing of a highly contagious new strain was something that filled you with so much paranoia you seriously considered quitting your current career and instead adopting a hermit lifestyle while completing college at home. Of course, such a thought was squashed by the slowly impending thought of rent, bills, due dates for assignments, and your bitch of a manager who lets people get close to you without a mask on. It’s not a big deal, (y/n), she once said to you. You wanted to shoehorn some tubes down her throat just to survive, see how that felt. It didn’t help that human resources wouldn’t listen to your complaint. They brushed it off since you were just a lowly sandwich maker at a chain sub place. If you had enough scraped together for lawyers right about now, they’d be totally fucked, you thought to yourself. Even more jarring is that it seemed you lost a handful of memories while in the hospital. You could remember basic outlines of people in your head- your very tall and incredibly testy roommate, your younger sister who wore glasses and was much smaller than you, and… a foggy memory of a man with messy black bedhead who had an arm wrapped around your shoulder. It hurt to think too hard. The doctor soon came by to give you test results, to check your vitals again, and to look over your records. He was a bit terse, but you can’t make the best judgments of people when they’re in plastic suits. “We’ll need to get you cleaned up by tomorrow and you should be able to head home,” he’d said, looking over your chart. You didn’t necessarily feel too ecstatic about your trip to your apartment. You remembered your roommate and how finicky he was, and you dreaded for him to belittle you over your condition. You dreaded it enough to even feel a knot of anxiety form in your stomach, wrenched in between your ribs without the intent of ever coming out. “We’ve already contacted uh…” The doctor squints at the screen, “Tsukishima… to come to pick you up tomorrow at noon. We’ll have care instructions printed out. You still have to quarantine for about a week more since your immune system isn’t at its most prime currently.” You agreed, it probably wasn’t a good recovery idea to make a couple of sammies for the public while you were recovering from a virus that had you intubated. He seemed grateful that you were lucid and cooperative, at least.

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You, predictably, didn’t sleep well after being in a medically induced haze for several days. Even more predictably, you found yourself awake from anxieties of the future. Tomorrow was only a few hours away, and then you’d be home. Home… what did that look like for you? The fog in your head was thick initially. You do remember coming home from classes at a different time than Tsukishima, how when you entered he’d often be reading over homework. You remembered how sometimes he would be in the shower and the scent of cheap green apple soap filled the living room connected to it. You remembered… You remembered holding his thin frame in your arms on a bridge, pulling him back from oncoming traffic. You remember how you both collapsed and how the cold autumn air stung your lungs. You remember wide golden eyes staring back at you, as tears slowly filled them, then his normally impartial voice breaking as he hiccuped a sob, “Why? Why did you have to be in Sendai right now?” You felt tears stinging your eyes and a lump form in your throat. You found yourself in distress of your new emotions. Maybe… maybe you can sleep this horrible feeling off. Maybe this fog in your head where you need to know how deep your relationship ran will lift once you get genuine sleep.

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Finally, a knock on the door encouraged you to rouse from your sleeping state. And eloquently, you spoke your true feelings in your sleep-deprived state,  “No.” You hear the doorknob turn and the door open. There’s a lack of a greeting from your nurse nor a quick apology from your doctor for interrupting your sleep. Actually, if you’re gonna use logic, what nurse or doctor is gonna wake up their peacefully sleeping patient in recovery? Thought of it being your doctor or nurse practically evaporates once the intruder has a seat on your bed. They still haven’t spoken, so now you’re remembering what tricks of self-defense you learned online to give this person a proper ass-kicking for getting way too close. You crack your hazy eyes open to get a look at where they’re sitting and you stop dead in your thoughts as wary gold eyes peer down at you. Your eyes widen out of reflex and butterflies bloom from your stomach at seeing what you now remember is your roommate. “I knew you were awake,” He said, a wry smile on his face. His expression was betrayed by his concerned gaze, though, “Wow, you look like shit.” You don’t know entirely why past his comment feeling not as an insult, but almost as a compliment, but you smile a little, “I feel like it too.” His expression doesn’t change. He runs a large calloused hand through the tresses of your hair, though, as if to soothe you. The doctor walked in and apologized for interrupting the moment between the two of you, unsure if it was something serious. You told him it was nothing because that’s what it was to you.

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The car ride wasn’t filled with the snarky banter you had been expecting. Instead, there was plentiful comfortable silence as Tsukishima drove. You didn’t know whether to be grateful or not for the silence- you still felt quite feeble and needed way more bed rest before you could get ready to do anything for anyone. Despite the wholesome silence, you felt those round gold eyes focus on you occasionally. And even though it was comfortable, you felt a melancholy twinge in the atmosphere as he inspected you. “I know you’ll give me shit for this… but you look like you’ve lost weight. I uh…” He gripped the steering wheel harder. You glanced over at him. A shade of baby pink dusted itself across his cheekbones and nose as he focused on the road. “I’m worried about you.” Fuck, there go those butterflies again. Something in you pushed to help- to comfort- but the logical side of your brain brought you to a halt. You’d weighed it in your head a couple of times. You two act closer than just roommates, and it’s not entirely clear how or why you got up to this point… but you had a solid hunch you might be dating this guy. Maybe? You closed your eyes and rested your head on the car door as you thought. You remember how sand clung to your body and you could hear the roaring of the sea. How you watched Tsukishima focus on the waves to regulate his breathing. You vaguely remember your words breaking away from your throat and catching the salty sea air. “Why don’t we stay together?” His lanky body stiffened, then he looked at you with disbelief. “... you wouldn’t want that. I’m fucking annoying and mean.” Your eyes creased with familiarity at the line. “Yeah? So am I. We can butt heads until we balance each other out.” It looked like he wanted to cry, but his pride wouldn’t let him cry in front of you anymore today. “I won’t ask you why you tried to do what you did today. But I will ask if there’s anyone you can talk to in your life,” you reached a careful hand over to rub his back, “Kei, if there isn’t, let me be that person.” You felt how his breath shuddered. To save his pride, you looked to the ocean and watched its hypnotic movements. After a few deep, shaky inhales and exhales, he replied. “I don’t understand why you’re being nice to me. Why you didn’t let me die. I will probably come back to this point in my life several times and you’re trying to say you’ll put up with it?” There was some bite to his tone, he was trying so hard to put up walls when he had no will to do so at the moment. How long had he pushed others away from being close? If he was anything like you… it was since grade school. “Let me be your support for when you’re in pain,” You tried once more, “I’m stubborn as shit so I know I won’t give up on you.” “You’re not getting it, you fucking idiot. I’m always in pain, that’s just been life,” he snapped bitterly, glaring at you now.  “Then I guess I’ll be by your side forever.” You’d said it without thinking that day. It was like the ocean grew quieter with your words as if even Poseidon became interested in your proposition. You felt heat rise to your face at the implications of what you said. He stared at you with raised eyebrows and the slightest hint of a champagne pink hue on his face. He averted his eyes almost in a panic and watched the ocean again, suddenly very aware of his own expression. You carefully peered over at him again to see he’d only grown redder, now mirroring you. “You… don’t mean that,” He said as if it were a statement. “I do. You’re a good person inside, but you’re defensive and hurt. I’ve seen that from you in the past and I’ve learned more about you today. I want to be there for you as long as you’ll have me. Will you let me?”  He picked at the sand as if thinking it over for a moment. There was a brief pause as waves rolled over each other in front of both of you, the sound of their impact being the only thing to grace your ears. Finally, his cynical tone returned as he regained some form of his prior composure. “Okay, but I’ll kill you if you go back on it.”

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“Hey. (Y/n), we’re home,” Tsukishima gently shook your shoulder to rouse you from your sleep. You opened your eyes slowly and groaned out a swear. Tsukishima felt a hesitant smile creep up his face as he opted to just try and maneuver you into your shared home himself. He remembered how waking up was hard for you. Once he opened the passenger door you nearly fell out onto the pavement, only saved by your seatbelt and the giant himself. Your face fell awkwardly into his hip, and you grumbled at the interruption to your sleep. “You sleep like the fucking dead, christ,” he mused out loud and sat you up so it was safe to unbuckle your seatbelt. He urged you to get up more- it wasn’t that you were heavy, he just really wasn’t in the place to lift you at the moment and didn’t even know how to go about it. Regardless, he held you up by a shoulder and crouched to make it easier for you both to walk to the apartment. In some part of your sleep, you began to speak, “Kei.” He kept his gaze trained forward at the front door and struggled to grab his keys from his pocket, “Yes?” “Are we married?” Kei dropped his keys, then shot you a look of concern, “... No…?” He had to hold himself back from saying not yet, unsure of what you were getting to. He reached down to grab his keys and he focused back on the door. “Why are you asking?” He unlocked the door and threw it open, getting you both inside finally. He set you on your couch and sat on the floor in front of you. You looked at him suspiciously, now roused from your sleep. The only thing on your mind was that dream- it had to be a memory! You refused to understand it as anything but that. You prodded, “On the beach, I told you I’d be by your side forever.” He seemed to weigh your thoughts heavily in his mind, “... did you forget about us?” You didn’t expect what felt like cold water to hit your back so hard and so suddenly at his suggestion. He didn’t seem hurt at the thought, instead, he found himself occupied with your reaction. His hand reached out to rub the side of your face as you looked at him with wide, guilty eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Your sister told me this kind of thing might happen…” His calloused thumb traced over your lip, and he offered a smile the best he could, “I’ll try to explain it.” Tsukishima explained that what you remembered happened about four years ago and you had been living together ever since. He motioned to photos on the walls of the two of you and people who you could just hardly remember. When you rested your index finger on an individual who was much scrawnier than most of the people there, sitting on the bench with you and watching you speak with admiration, Tsukki put his hand over yours. “That’s your sister. She took most of these pictures, but she usually sits next to you when you have a space available.” You nodded and closed your eyes. You began to remember summers you spent with her in childhood and her yelling at you to do your homework when you bothered her as you got older. You smiled a bit. Once your eyes opened again, your finger traveled to possibly the tallest person in the room. He was big, but you remembered something warm and comfortable about that man… “That’s Kuroo. You both went to the same high school and you were in his friend group.” You both went on like that for a while until you’d cleared everyone in that picture. Once you did, you sat down to think over the new cluster of names you’d picked up. “... when you promised you’d be here with me forever, did you remember what I promised to you?” Kei asked as he sat next to you. “No… I just remember what happened on the beach up until you threatened to kill me if I took back my promise.” “Oh, right. I was going through that phase,” He seemed displeased with the comment. You found it almost funny but refrained from laughing for his sake. He continued, in a quieter tone, “I promised that if something happened to you, that I would always be here for you, too. That I’d get you back into shape.” His larger hand gently entwined with yours, “... so if you remember that promise and you’ll have me, I’d love to marry you once you get your memories back. … If you want to. I-” You cut him off with a hug to his side, trembling a bit as your emotions got the better of you. You smiled up at him. “I can’t promise I’ll be better fast, and I still feel like several trucks ran through me at once… but I’m happy,” you managed out. You didn’t know what your face looked like right about now and you didn’t have the nerve to look up into Kei’s glasses to check your reflection. He wrapped his arms around you in return, pressing the side of his face against your head. “Please, don’t give me an answer yet. You’re not in the right mental state. I’ll wait for you until you’re ready.” You ran your hands up and down his back. You weren’t exactly afraid of remembering things, but you were quite anxious for what tomorrow might bring for both of you. Despite that, you felt safe recovering in his arms, and you were sure you’d feel that way for a long time.

Have a link to the sexy sexy masterlist down here as well. Unless you’re done reading, then have a good day. But if you’re not there’s some fire stuff in that bad boy.

[slutsofren]

Danger Days Chapter 6: Look Alive, Sunshine

summary: the three of you find more questions than answers and the start of a whole new fuckin' problem im so so so sorry

warnings: tw for gore, bloodshed, hurt/little comfort, angst, gunfight, etc

word count: 4,166 she’s a big bitch lol

read on ao3 here / masterlist

“Let’s look around,” Ellie said dejectedly.

Joel walked off on his own, giving the three of you some space. Ellie went through a door and walked down the hall to her right, following it.

The halls and rooms here were void of your previous allies, not a single soul seemed to be here but you could still make out traces of equipment and feel a semblance of sentimentality from your memories. Damned memories tickling at the edge of your mind.

You picked up some papers and read them quickly, hearing Ellie somewhere in another room asking if anybody is there and Joel off to your right in some other room shuffling around. There was still quite a bit of medical paperwork on the hopes of a cure, of somebody like Ellie coming by.

Unfortunately the research was only bits and pieces but you could catch an idea of a project involving infected monkeys. Suddenly you were startled as Ellie shouted, “Yoo-hoo! Fireflies! Cure for mankind over here! Anyone?”

Before you could tell her to stop, Joel reprimanded her. “Let’s keep it down until we figure out what’s going on.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw him savenging around, picking up remnants of med kits, gears, even forgotten bullets and tools. Idly you think hJoel has the right idea and go off searching around too, pocketing the rest of the papers to finish reading them later.

The three of you continue looking quietly until coming to the conclusion there’s not much here.

“You sure this is where they’d be,” Joel asks you.

“Positive. That room over there was my uncle’s office,” you pointed towards an open door. “They must have pushed back further into the building.”

Ellie was the first to walk down a hall, finding it leading across to a landing with elevators and stairs. The man stayed behind for a beat, eyeing you. Likely second-guessing your motioves. Eventually he turned and walked away, following the teen. At the center of it all were large black containers and she kneeled in front of an open one and began to read, Joel joining her in flipping through the papers.

“Nothing useful,” Ellie states, throwing the papers down a bit more harshly than necessary.

“Ain’t nothin’ here but a bunch of medical mumbo-jumbo.”

You reach for some of the books and a binder and flip through them quickly too, noting some words about failed specimens and subjects not surviving an experiment until ultimately being harvested. Whatever they were doing wasn’t going well and they seemed to be feeling the weight of morality on their shoulders. There was an entry logged by some Doctor Anderson about feeling conflicted about torturing humans and questioning if it was worth it.

Shutting the binder quickly and throwing it in your backpack to finish reading it later, your mental dialog cut short as Ellie sighed heavily, “I don’t get it.”

“Looks like they all just packed up and left in a hurry, unless you got a better idea?”

Before you could answer, a loud metallic bang hit from the floor above the three of you. Ellie and Joel looked at each other before she said a bit grimly, “Maybe not all of ‘em left.”

“Stay close,” Joel commanded.

The stairs up to the third floor was behind Ellie and she went up first as you finished zipping up your backpack and tossing it on.

The floor above was more or less the same, open to the central garden in the middle of the building, objects in disarray, out of use vending machines that you’re pretty positive you used to pry open to steal sodas from. All this, but no Fireflies.

Joel went through a door on the left, probably scavenging for more things to find whereas you and Ellie went the scenic route on the outside corridor.

“What do you think happened?”

“Considering they had enough time to pack up research,” you pointed at some boxes, “they must have left willingly.” You shuffled through some more papers, looking for a clue. “But the question is, why leave?”

Ellie walked inside a door and followed the path of some wires that lead to an old flood light, “There are no bodies. That’s good, right?”

“If we find out where they went,” came Joel’s voice from behind you two.

You followed Ellie down the hall, peering into rooms and broken windows to your left. Suddenly there was another noise coming from behind and when the three of you turned, the very same flood light you’d all passed knocked over, lying prone on the ground.

“Shit,” Joel whispered.

“Um… So it’s probably clickers, right?”

You flashed Ellie a look, “Not the time.”

“Right.”

You all held your breath for a few moments, trying to listen until Joel broke the silence, answering Ellie. “No. Clickers don’t hide.”

He looked at you, giving you a once-over, likely weighing the possibility of you betraying him. You responded in kind expression, silently telling him to give whatever plot he has in mind a try.

Wary old bastard, you thought. As if you’d pull a stunt this far into your mission together, even after he began to act lukewarm to your presence.

You took the lead down a tarp covered hall, not really remembering this area much. They probably did push up to these higher levels judging by all the lab equipment left behind.

Digging in your memory, you recalled everybody keeping to the first and second floors in this building to make bailouts quicker. The militia men were on the rooftops to keep an eye out for any stray hunters or other unfriendlies.

Whatever happened on these floors were not from when you kept around.

Your trio came to a corner room that looked as if it were being used as an x-ray exam area, there were large black television-like screens on the wall that had some mangled imagery on them. Whatever it was put a shudder through you. Along the back wall, Joel found an x-ray abandoned on the counter and picked it up, when you and Ellie looked over his shoulder it looked like a skull with fungal growth on it. Like somebody who was infected for quite some time.

“Gross.” Ellie pretended to gag when she saw the photo.

Joel tucked the x-ray away and went on to look around, you followed by looking in the cabinets for alcohol disinfectant. “They had to have left something behind,” you mumbled to yourself as you began to feel the inklings of irritation slip into your bones.

Joel went to another door, this time leading to some room to the right but as he opened it, a screech came and he jumped, “Jesus!”

You drew your pistol from your hip and pointed it outwards, pushing Ellie behind you until you could hear chittering.

Fuckin’ monkeys , you think as you put your weapon down, faintly seeing three monkeys jump out a window on the opposite side of the room.

Ellie walks next to Joel, peeking into the lab he was stepping into and he leans towards her, “Well, at least it aint clickers.”

“Yeah. No Fireflies either,” she steps into the room. She throws her arms open wide, “Well, maybe in all that research they turned into fucking monkeys.”

You try to stifle a laugh but fail, a light giggle leaves your lips. “At least they’re not flying monkeys.”

“Just keep searching, we'll find something,” Joel says, shooting you a pointed look about your banter with Ellie.

The room looked like it used to be a science lab, naturally. The left and back side of the room were lined with metal cages, likely the ones that originally held the monkeys. Otherwise, there were large black countertop tables around, probably where students listened to their lecture and did hands-on assignments. Joel approached one of the tables in the middle, picking up what looked to be a recorder and pressed play.

A male voice clicked on. There were sounds of shuffling and screeches from the monkeys in the background. “That’s four palettes of lab equipment all packed up and ready to go. Now - big question is what do we do with all you guys. They say the tainted batch needs to be put down. You know what I say? I say screw that. Who made a bigger sacrifice than you, right? If anyone deserves to run free out there it’s-. Hey, easy! Agh. Shit. Oh, no. It bit me. Oh my god,” his breath gets heavy and the recorder stops abruptly.

Holy fuck, they were purposefully infecting animals , you think in horror.

“I’m sure glad we didn’t mess with them monkeys,” Joel says. “Did you know?”

You look at him wide-eyed and slack jawed. “Not a fuckin’ clue. I know my uncle was running blood tests and cell regrowth experiments but nothing like that.”

“He didn’t say where they went,” Ellie said, eyeing the two of you. The tension was minorly palpable, whatever small victory you gained in the camradiery field was now likely gone between Joel and you.

“I know, let’s keep looking,” Joel responded.

You fixed your composure and tried to reassure her, “We’ll find them.”

Your small trio followed the room into another, searching that one but finding nothing of interest in the drawers or on the tables. Not even another research binder. There was another door to the right and Joel approached it, trying to push his way in but there was a green metal object keeping it closed. He looked to you, “Hey, come help me.”

Stepping beside him, the two of you pushed against the door, throwing yourselves against it repeatedly to open it until it gave way. Joel gave you a tense nod, a silent thanks as he walked in first, Ellie close on his heels.

It wasn’t until you entered the room did you see it- the body. It looked to have been dead for quite a while, the bones were very obvious but still held together by the clothes wrapped around them. The person was sitting at a desk, facing the window, where Joel loomed over it as if it didn’t bother him and he picked up what looked to be another recorder.

Click. “If you’re looking for the Fireflies, they’ve all left,” a voice said grimly. You recognized it as the same one from earlier.

Ellie looked up from a binder she was flipping through, “Yeah, no shit.”

“I’m dead,” the man continued, “Or I will be soon. Got me some time to reflect.” Joel fast forwards through the tape, “...been years that felt like we were…”

He fast forwards again, “...fucking thing was a giant waste of ti-...”

And again, “...not gonna do this anymore…”

Ellie sighs while you pace, wishing to listen to the tape in more detail later. “Come on,” Joel grumbles as he fast forwards it yet again.

“...looking for the others, they’ve all returned to Saint Mary’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. You’ll find them there. Still trying to save the world. Good luck with that.”

Ellie sounding mildly hopeful looks to both of you, “Do either of you know where that is?”

“I know the city,” he nods before turning to catch you chewing on your fingernails in thought. “You?”

“I- I remember Marlene mentioning it to Regan on occasion but they talked about it like it was abandoned. I’ve never been there.”

“Is it far,” Ellie asked.

“It ain’t close. I mean on horseback-,” he stops abruptly, something catching his attention out the window.

“What?”

Out of the corner of your eye you see it too. Flashlights peeking through the windows. Just as Ellie asked if they were Fireflies, the light shines on them as they stood by the window and Joel pushed her down, ordering her and you to hit the deck just as whoever was on the other end of that light took a shot at you all, shattering the window.

“Shit,” you shout, ducking down to avoid the coming onslaught of gunfire.

Ellie looked at you, “Who the fuck are these guys?”

He looked at you angrily, “Did you lure them here? Is this some kind of trap?”

“Fuck you, Joel Miller! I didn’t.”

He stared you down. “Fine, It don’t matter,” Joel argued, “We know where to go. Let’s get the hell outta here.” He jerked his chin at you and spit, “Lead the way.”

You wiped the initial shock from your system and went into mission-mode, keeping yourself calm and alert. They followed you out of the room, the three of you crouching to avoid being spotted by the new threat through the windows.

Making your way through the anteroom to the office then through the lab as silently and rapidly as possible while crouching. It wasn’t until you reached the x-ray exam room when you were hit in the chin with something hard, knocking you down, dizzy.

Your mind and vision were in a haze but you managed to catch the vague shape of Joel rush somebody, likely the person who knocked you over, through the newly forming tears in your eyes. Fuck , you thought, your face hurting like a bitch.

Ellie yelled something as she went to help Joel, apparently getting the bright idea to take Joel’s machete from his backpack and swinging it wildly at the stranger.

As they fought the man, you shook your head and rose on your haunches, still dizzy. You could make out the faint shape of a second man running up to attack but through your shifting vision, saw three of him. It didn’t stop you from raising one of your dual guns from your thigh holster, taking aim. Breathing in, slowly breathing out, you took the shot when the three men formed a single one.

The loud bang reverberated through the halls, momentarily distracting you from the brawl happening somewhere to your right but soon that silenced.

“What the fuck was that,” you asked nobody in paricular.

“Don’t look like Fireflies to me,” Joel mumbled in reply, hinting you must have been telling the truth.

Together, you all walked down the tarp covered hall from earlier but saw four shapes run past some red smoke on the only way out of the building, likely trying to cut you all off. “Stay back,” Joel said as he flung one of his makeshift bombs at the intruders. After a moment, it went off and sickly screams were either cut short or continued onto a deadly moan.

Each of you hid behind random turned over tables, guns drawn.

Although six of these strangers were down, it seemed there were more as another came in through the right side, taking a shot at Ellie. Joel responded in kind and shot him square in the neck, the blood splattering a nearby wall.

You followed suit and took aim at somebody ducking below a desk much like you. Your aim was a little off because of that damned kick to the head but you got the guy nonetheless. It was messier than you’d like, the newly forming headache was making things much more difficult.

Together with Joel, you took two more men down until you reached the small lobby where the stairs were only to find another flare emitting red smoke. “What the hell,” you wondered aloud.

“Probably to tell the others how to get to where we were, building is like a maze.”

With that, you and Joel look off, making sure to keep Ellie behind you as your group traversed down the steps, finding another flare. Joel heard them before you and raised his gun. You followed as two more men rounded the corner, both being taken down by the bullets you both expelled into their bodies.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears at the adrenaline rushing through your veins, no matter how much you remained focused at the task at hand. You took a breath in an attempt to ground yourself, following Joel closely behind as he was about to round the same corner, stepping over the two dead bodies when you grabbed Joel, pulling him back as a bullet whizzed by. “Fuckin’ hell,” he gasped.

Taking to the wall you peered out and quickly aimed, letting another bullet rain free. It clashed into the wall behind your target, narrowly missing as the man ducked behind the poor choice of the glass railing. Joel put his hand on your waist, pulling you close as he leaned back around taking his chance on the guy. He must have made it count because soon you heard a soft thud of the body collapsing.

If you weren’t so preoccupied trying to stay alive, you might have noticed Joel kept his large hand on you for a few moments longer than necessary.

Joel left the relative safety of the second floor lobby, nearly running to the exit. You grabbed onto Ellie’s hand as you shoved your nearly empty gun into it’s holster on your thigh, following him. He came to the closed door that led to the next area of classrooms to get you all down to the ground floor but just as he went to open it, it banged open from the inside starling all of you. The force was so strong that it pushed Joel to the glass railing behind him, his body teetering over the edge.

“Joel!”

You dropped Ellie’s hand as you ran to him, trying to get the other man off of him as he choked your companion. By the force and chaos, the rail gave way underneath Joel. As he fell, he pulled the stranger with him.

A scream surely left you as you watched in horror as the two men fell to the ground but it grew louder when you noticed a sickening metal bar poking it’s way through Joel’s stomach, staining red in the sunlight. Beside him, the attacker lay dead in a mangled heap of limbs, his neck at an unnatural angle.

You began to shuffle onto your stomach to drop the distance from the balcony walkway to the ground floor, Ellie close behind you copying your maneuver. Together, you both landed on the ground awkwardly and unbalanced. It was so unbelievably impossible to stay focused as you watched Joel writhe in pain from the impalement as loud banging seemed to invade your senses.

Ellie jumped straight to Joel asking in a rushed panic, “What do you want me to do?”

You couldn’t hear what he said when the double doors burst open, two men with a baseball bat and machete appearing. You grabbed both of your guns, unleashing lead into them with a little more force than necessary.

When you turned back around, you saw Ellie trying to lift Joel. “Don’t!”

You ran to him and dropped to your knees, removing your backpack and began to scrounge around for clean gauze. “You’re only going to create more damage, you old bastard. Stay still.”

With the gauze in hand, you motioned for Ellie to put as much pressure as she could on the frontside of the wound. You tried your best not to jolt him around so much as you tried to assess the entry wound on his back, only to find it was buried in cement beneath him. He groaned, calling out a string of curse words.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t need to if you had good bedside manners. Goddamned brat.”

His small jab at you could have made you cry if you weren’t so invested in keeping the old man alive and with no other alternative to removing the rebar safely from him, you had no choice but to lift him away from it.

You reached into your backpack once more and grabbed a strap of leather you usually kept close by, mostly to fiddle with, and shoved it into his mouth. “To keep you from biting off your own tongue,” you explained while adjusting your position to be directly behind his upper body to prepare and stanche the blood flow from his back. “Although I think we could all use the peace and quiet.”

Whatever comeback he had was cut off as he yelled, muted by the bit. While he was distracted by your words, you had nodded to Ellie to lift Joel straight up. He quickly fell to his knees as he tried to stand, probably ready to pass out from the pain and you padded the entry wound with gauze, holding it tightly.

His words came out weak as he told Ellie, “Just get to the damn horses.”

She looked at you and you nodded, removing one hand to give her a gun. “Do whatever it takes, kiddo.”

She walked in front of you both, her arms held high with the gun in her hand, ready to take on anybody else. She led you both to a classroom and knocked over some wood panels that barely covered a broken window.

“Do you think you can handle it,” you asked him.

He didn’t answer, instead choosing to throw his body over the edge, finding himself on his back once more. “Come on, move,” Ellie demanded of him as you jumped through the window after them. Just as she got him sitting up against a table, another man burst through the door across the classroom, gun ready to fire.

Seeing as you were getting rather low on your own bullets, you reached for Joel’s revolver and threw yourself out from behind the lab table, firing two shots and hitting him in the torso.

“Come on, we gotta get you outta here,” you told him. One look at Ellie and you saw her hands and sweater covered in Joel’s blood, you likely looked the same. Brushing those thoughts away, you and her flanked him on either side, trying to walk him out.

“No, I’m okay,” he moaned. Trying to push you both off him.

“Like shit,” Ellie threw back, “You’re not okay, Joel. Now come on! Fucking walk!”

You kept your free hand up, gun drawn, and Ellie matched your pose to his left. “Down this hall,” you directed, “To the left is the main entrance, we can leave through there.”

Don’t die on me now, Joel Miller , you silently wished, hoped, prayed.

Joel began to sway between you two, his feet were failing beneath him. His body in your arms grew heavier and sluggish with each step making it harder to walk straight. You really tried to keep the gauze at his back secure against the wound but it was hard to do that while also trying to keep him balanced. As you were distracted by assessing the man, he moaned out, “Up.”

You and Ellie looked up the stairs that were against the wall in the lobby and saw two men coming towards you all, “There!”

Ellie raised her gun first, taking shots at random and you did too. It was difficult to do while doing everything possible to not drop Joel but somehow, they too, fell dead along the stairs. On his other side, the teen poked at him out of breath, “I swear to god, I get you out of this, you’re so singing for me.”

You decide to jump in on the joke, trying to lighten the mood, “I think you mean ‘for us’, Ellie.”

Joel coughed a laugh, “You wish.”

Slowly the front entrance inched closer. Ellie left to pry it open and let you two through and Joel let go of you, shoving his body and burst through the secondary doors. He lost his balance and fell down the steps only to see as some other hooded figure with his hands on Whiskey and Callus’ reigns.

Before the straggler could even draw a weapon, you and Ellie took shots at him. Joel’s revolver clicked, notifying it was out, just as the man let go of the horses.

You ran to Joel, lifting him up to his feet. He groaned in pain, “I know, I’m sorry. Just a little longer, alright, cowboy?”

He gave you an odd look as Ellie appeared and she asked him, “Can you get on?”

Whether or not he can is entirely different than if he will, you thought. You were proven right as he jumped up on Whiskey, not even noticing he was getting on the wrong horse.

“Ellie, get on Callus,” you told her as you also swung your leg over Whiskey, saddling in front of Joel. “As for you, don’t bleed all over my goddamn horse. Hold tight.”

A part of you was worried that he didn’t even bother to jab, you kicked Whiskey’s underbelly and Joel’s body slouched against your back, passing out. The fact the warmth that seeped through your body was likely his blood was gnawing against the corners of your mind but you shooed the thoughts away. Together with Ellie, you filed out of the university as fast as you could, not looking back.

[transsexualhamlet]

asmr i psychoanalyze my favorite war criminal, aka calling out norman the essay

basically all of my thoughts on norman on one callout post because i care him (both manga and anime are discussed)

LINK TO RAY PSYCHOANALYSIS:  https://chaoticgaymess.tumblr.com/post/646749875570196480/ray-81194-the-long-explanation 

this is going to be ungodly long so here’s a keep reading, essay below the cut

((tw for suicidal ideation and self harm, brief discussion of eating disorders))

Disclaimer: no shipping is included here this is just about norman also they’re kids who call each other siblings

Thoughts: So you may be thinking, Rowan, why do you yell about the colorless war criminal so often? Well the answer lies in your honor the court hates to see a girlboss winning. Norman is a girlboss :) Yes norman is a tiny twink who can't lift a milk jug. And he is a girlboss :) Obviously I don't condone, um, eugenics and all, but that's not the point the point is that he satisfies my need for more characters like Levi motherfucking Calder from Unwind because I’m apparently an edgy 13 year old. Also all of his problems are violently things I can fix and I keep him around as a pet project because someone needs to give him a hug and slap him on the face

I diagnose him with things: 

-pisces man :pensive:

-is he albino? Not literally. Is his skin so pale he would catch fire if he went outside at noon? Yes.

-autism: Yes I’m aware that calling him autistic makes him, problematic rep by perpetuating the autism unfeeling savant stereotype whatever but have you considered i’m autistic and I’m projecting also he’s L with standards? Anyway traits of AuTism he has: hyper   fixation, canonically breaks and fixes things over and over because like ofc he does, doesn’t understand Emotion, hyperaware of body language at the same time as it all somehow flying over his head, low empathy, sensory experiences™, min maxed in certain areas, and I don’t think he’s got social interaction quite right? There’s something off about it

-gifted kid (derogatory) This is self explanatory but basically him being the smartest and the best in a competitive environment caused most of his issues, such as the perfectionism, the need to succeed, the lack of self esteem and ridiculously high expectations on himself, giving himself no breaks or time to relax, the “i must be productive with every second of my day or i will die” deal, the “peaked at 11” thing, the way in which he goes through life like there’s going to be a fucking test on it

-Eldest Daughter™ lmao. Norman’s always had to be mature, he’s always had to be the best, he’s always had to do the things Ray got out of bc he’s a snitch and Emma got out of because Isabella likes her. Norman gets respect from Isabella only if he excels, and her bar for him is astronomical. He doesn’t have the Mommy Issues that Ray has, but it’s because for him Isabella basically just reflected his expectations on himself, whereas with Ray it was more personal.

-low empathy (part of the autism thing): this one needs more explanation, but it’s not a bad thing in and of itself. Cognitive empathy is a thing and he can use it, but he does not instinctively understand other people’s emotions, or even recognize them properly, especially when the person is not like himself. This is obvious in Emma. Man has no fucking clue what’s going on in her head or why she does what she does, but he can predict what she will do in any given situation very well. He could understand the suicide attempt from ray he predicted more because Ray’s an easier equation to solve, and someone who’s more similar to him. I know he gets it because, well, motherfucker’s just as self desctructive as him, just in a more dignified manner.

-he’s got some sort of chronic illness. This is also me projecting and a headcanon but he’s got something going on, even before lambda pumped him full of growth hormones or whatever which they maybe should have Not Done but oh well. (I assume this just didn’t happen in the anime, since he’s still so fucking short) But he's So weak. He passed out when it was too hot. He passed out when it was too cold. He can’t open a pickle jar. His skin is too pale and he’s skinny af. He’s much more prone to sickness and probably has asthma too? But in the case that he did actually have something going on, I don’t think grace field would see the need to treat it, if it didn’t impact the quality of his meat? Isabella’s probably just “you have chronic pain and you get migraines? Great, take some tylenol and do some calculus.” Can’t say that probably helped anything.

personality type: ISTJ

Basically, he’s the most boring personality type to exist, and personally as an enfp i do not respect him. But basically this means he’s a fucking nerd that gets his projects done for school the day they’re assigned, is probably the president of the Anime Student Council™, and could probably get away with premeditated murder (ok actual istjs this is a joke don’t skin me)

The only trait that norman doesn’t have on the istj thing is telling the truth. Yeah, he values the truth, but like, that doesn’t apply to him, clearly. Bitch is a notorious liar.

The only other personality type he has any similarity with is intj, which is the same except it’s more rare and a purple theme instead of a blue theme. Sadly, that’s not him though, because although he can care more about some kinds of philosophy overall this isn’t the case and ray already occupies this personality type tbh. 

strengths and weaknesses: This one’s kind of obvious, but he is aside from the crazy insane intelligence good at planning. Extremely good at planning. He can predict any outcome and figure out how to prevent it, using all his resources. For example he’s physically weak and someone could literally just walk up and stab him, but it doesn’t impede his progress on his goals because he’s surrounded himself with strong, mentally inferior people who would die for him in a heartbeat. He never gets stuck in some “everything is shit and i can’t do anything” deal like Emma and Ray do, he always works through it and has confidence in his abilities (in as much as he will solve the problem or die™. Weaknesses other than his twink body include his Low Wisdom score. It’s funny how he’s often associated with an owl, the mans is 14. He thinks he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t. Plus obviously his fundamental misunderstanding of so much of everything going on around him, the fact that he lies not just to the world but himself, his refusal to take care of himself and his incredible cowardice. His achilles heel is being forced to, actually confront his actions.

what he likes about himself: He does pride himself on his mental abilities, and his judgement, which in his opinion is the only correct opinion and the only correct way. In the past, he likes being seen as a leader, he likes being responsible for other people. He likes his ability to manipulate and lie, because he sees it as an asset, and I honestly think he enjoys being william minerva more than he enjoys being Norman. He prides himself on his unhealthy expectations and the fact that he is able to meet them. Honestly, he does think he’s better than everyone else, mentally, though it’s humbled by his self hatred. Cursed thought: If Norman had self esteem he would be light yagami. 

what he doesn’t like about himself/insecurities: Oh god, nearly everything. His appearance, his status, his superiority, his physical inability, his own mess of a mind, also have I mentioned his appearance. He’s obsessed with self control. He wants everything he sees wrong with himself gone. And I understand why having control of everything is necessary and appealing, everything for him has always been rigid and planned out from moment one, he was even more regulated in lambda, and though he desperately wants to Not Be Food, he has no idea what to do with the chains now that he’s broken out of them. So he just wraps them around himself. Regulates to an unhealthy degree when he sleeps, what he eats, when he actually takes even minimal care of his own problems, what he looks like, how much of himself he lets show, the expressions on his face, the literal thoughts inside his own head he will shut down if they are not Correct. It’s literal self harm. Norman, please stop it.

motivations/goals in life/general philosophy: To be honest, I’m not sure he knows what he wants. He sure thinks he does, he could sure give you a memorized answer, but it means nothing. He wants to excel. He wants Emma to be happy. He wants to be perfect and for that to make everything perfect. But he doesn’t realize everything he’s working towards will do pretty much the opposite of that. He’s a crippling perfectionist, and pretty much everything he does is motivated by his fear of failing. He picks the certain path, he doesn’t wait for anyone else, he doesn’t care if it’s not nice. Emma foils that a most of the time because he cares about her, but it can only go so far, especially after he’s had so much time without her to develop a Complex. His philosophy is very contradictory, basically the tokyo ghoul “everything bad that happens to you stems from a lack of ability”. All of his problems are his fault. All the world’s problems are his to fix. If he can’t fix them, it’s his fault, it’s because he wasn’t strong enough, and not being perfect condemns someone forever, including himself.

how he’s perceived by others vs how he actually is: In most people there wouldn’t truly be much of a difference, but with Norman things are different, because, well, most of his personality in grace field is a put on, as well as the tough guy dictator thing he radiates after lambda. How he appears to someone is determined by the context of their meeting- the kids at grace field see him as a nerdy, weakish, pretty boring kid who is really caring and kind. The researchers at lambda see an obedient, beaten down and perfectionistic boy. The lambda kids see him as an infallible leader, ruthless and genius, a good man who knows what’s right. But in truth none of that is him. It’s a fucking chess game to him, putting on different faces, lying and pretending and treating everyone differently. In truth? He’s a fucking coward. He’s scared out of his mind and he’s tired and he can’t take pain, he’s obsessed with reaching some goal he deems is necessary that in the end is going to be his death because he doesn’t want to face the consequences of his actions. He’s taken on the role of someone evil, though deep down he’s not, he feels it’s easier to live that way because it strips him of his conscience. 

interpersonal relationships: In general, Norman sees all relationships in a pretty dim light. He sees everyone as black and white, for the most part, and other people make no sense to him intuitively, he has to figure them out like a puzzle. He’s manipulative and not particularly kind, but he follows all societal expectations to a T, overly focused on his appearance and placing the person he’s interacting with into a Category™. So he can be truly kind, to people he feels deserve it, to people who he values and doesn’t see flaws in. He gets incredibly attached to people he loves, protective, though he often doesn’t take their own feelings on the matter into consideration, and he’s ruthless with anyone who he deems a bad person. With people he understands and relates to, though, things can be different. If he sees someone as like himself, he will drop all the social interaction police bullshit and cut to the chase of whatever he wants or needs from them, and he’s not very forgiving in any manner, if he thinks what someone did is actually bad.

Emma: Norman obviously cares a lot about Emma, and honestly views her as better than anyone else. He realizes her moral integrity and all of the things she has and he doesn’t, and admires it. Because of his black and white view, Emma is like an angel to him. She couldn’t do anything wrong if she tried. But he comes to treat her as something to be protected instead of respected, and although he realizes she wouldn’t like what he’s doing, he fundamentally cannot empathize with her and doesn’t try to understand her. Their personalities are very literally opposite. Norman really needs to fucking listen to her. And Emma needs to understand that Norman doesn’t have a single ounce of empathy and you really do need to spell it out for him. Emma can only convince him when she has logical reasons for her actions, which she, doesn’t often have. And Emma gave Norman too much slack, because she didn’t see past the surface, and Ray never wanted to warn her, even though he knew the dude was showing a bunch of red flags, because you know. It was kind of an unspoken deal between them. (on ray’s part)

Ray: His relationship with Ray is a lot more complicated than with Emma. He understands Ray, where he doesn’t understand Emma, and he can see right through anything Ray does. And this makes things really tense between them, because Ray doesn’t, take kindly to being psychoanalyzed. If someone perceives him he will deck them and Norman is just there silently perceiving him at all times when Emma doesn’t see it. They are both constantly in competition with each other, but they care about each other a lot, though it’s kind of in a derogatory way. They both recognize each other as fundamentally fucked up, and silently agree never to bring it up with Emma. They’re nice to each other when she’s around, but all pretenses disappear when she’s gone. Ray is always frustrated with Norman, because Norman’s never been intimidated by him, and though he tries his best not to be vulnerable around him, Norman can always see through it, whereas Ray can’t crack Norman’s fake fucking smile no matter what he does. Norman will always take Emma’s side, and doesn’t see Ray as a good person at all, but he still understands and can excuse him, he takes measures to be… worse than Ray, which is better in his mind, because it’s rational, and ‘not selfish’.

Isabella: She has always had ridiculously high expectations for Norman, and treats him kind of harshly compared to the others. Bitch has heat stroke and Isabella’s first question is a calculus problem instead of like, “are you ok”. She knows he doesn’t complain about anything ever and she doesn’t stop him from being Terrible to himself, because it makes her job easier. They want smart kids, not mentally adjusted kids. She does really care for all of them, but she basically overrides it, she gives them what they want, not what they need, lets them be exactly what they’re making themselves. Isabella is distant with Ray but gives him anything he wants, she’s close and super nice with Emma, but Norman is… it’s weird. Isabella is proud of him because he meets her astronomically high bar. But at the same time, Norman never really cared for her that much and has never pretended to. Once they discover The Thing, though, he has a revelation, and it doesn’t take him long to switch his entire perspective about her. He’s pretty much like. Oh. She’s like me. That explains it, time to treat her like I treat myself: fucking brutally. Passive aggressive as hell. The kind of energy the :) emoticon at the end of an email gives. He does like just go “yeah we should kill her” at one point, which. You know, ok. When he got shipped out it was hhhh really interesting because Isabella knew full well he knew he was walking to his death and Norman was like “are you Truly Happy?” and just went :) and she was like h u h and tried to get him to talk while they were walking there because she feels Bad about it and he just. Did not. He didn’t say a single word just kind of smiled menacingly at her and I think it was half a sort of rebellion and half because he viewed her as similar to himself and therefore felt no need to put up any front with her, no words were necessary for him to impart exactly how he felt about it

Lambda kids: His relationship with the lambda kids is weird and bittersweet. I think he really truly does care about them, they were in a similar situation to his and he wants them to get what they want. However it is not a healthy or beneficial relationship, they see him as a god and don’t realize that he’s killing himself to give them what they want, he’s basically adopted them when out of anyone norman’s the one that should least be in charge of kids. I think he’s honestly younger than them but I’m not sure if they even know. He acts like their fucking mom, and that’s from what he thinks mothers are like… like isabella?? Giving them what they want, not what they need, lying to them, showing a front, caring deeply for them but at the same time using them for his own ends. And it’s not helpful for him. He thinks he knows what they need, but what he’s doing is what they want. What they need is therapy,(and so does norman), and he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with using them as weapons because they love him. It makes him feel good, to be seen as perfect, to have people who don’t know how weak he really is. But it’s only making him worse, and he’s enabling everything the lambda kids are doing wrong as well. They need like, Yuugo and Lucas. Some actual adults who are actually wise and have the ability and the knowledge to take care of them and understand their mental problems and maybe actually address them. And actually be nice to them. But um sadly. 

what he’s doing wrong: It’s pretty obvious, but… Norman, you maybe *shouldn’t* commit genocide? You’re not helping emma, you’re not making anything better. You’re not helping the lambda kids, you’re enabling them. You’re not helping your friends from grace field, you’re ignoring what they want. You’re not helping the world, you’re eradicating an entire race from the face of the earth and murdering the poor for the crimes of the fucking 1%. You’re not being a martyr, you’re a selfish piece of shit liar you little coward, you just want an easy way out and you want to die on your bloody fucking hill instead of admitting you’re wrong. Grow up, cringe little man.

why he went wrong: I think most of the reason this happened was the way he was raised combined with the kind of person he is. Norman would have turned out fine, if there has been good adults in his life who actually cared about his well being. Instead he got people who just wanted to control him and make him what they needed, and family who largely didn’t realize there was anything wrong. Ray being an ass to him most of forever probably didn’t help but well, that’s just Ray. Even then, he would have managed alright if he escaped with the rest of the kids because he would never have been separated from the experiences that caused the rest of them to realize demons weren’t all evil. In lambda he didn’t have anyone supporting him or telling him when things went too far, so he fell into relying on himself alone, pushing himself further with absolutely no limits. All he saw was enemies and allies, and things got stratified. He never had a lucas or a yuugo or mujika when he would have needed it, instead he found children who wanted him to be in charge and a world that made it so he had to be. Everything was an echo chamber for his worst thoughts, so they just became more and more dominant.

what he needs: To put it simply, he needs Emma and Ray to cut to the chase and slap him across the face and make him take care of himself. He needs to be forced to see everything for what it really is- this edgy 14 year old committing atrocities to feel better about himself? He needs to be told that what he’s doing is irrational, because in reality, it is. There are better solutions that he’s ignoring, both to his own suffering and the demons, and the way he’s going now no one will truly be happy because of it, that there is no requirement that things be perfect and this bullshit doesn’t make him stronger. He needs someone responsible to take the fucking dagger out of his hands. He also needs someone to babysit him and make him go to bed at a reasonable time.

i describe his personality through songs on my spotify playlist for him:

-outrunning karma by alec benjamin: this one super applies because it calls him out for making shitty decisions, being manipulative and a liar, and having blood on his hands in a very calm and subdued manner, that he knows this is wrong and yet he chooses to keep running faster and faster towards destruction, that he means to escape it through death

-empty by boyinaband and jaiden: yes this is a song about anorexia yes it also applies to norman i’m not saying norman literally has an eating disorder (but honestly it wouldn’t be far out of character if he did) but metaphorically this applies to his method of ignoring his needs, both emotional and physical, in favor of seeming in control 

-toxic thoughts by faith marie: this one speaks to his gifted kid trauma. Man’s got perfectionism running his entire soul. He’s terrified of failing, because he’s always been at the very top, he’ll beat himself up over any miniscule mistake and forces himself to keep at bad habits that keep him Productive, but he won’t ask for help no matter how much he’s suffering because that would be failing, he fights with his mind, this song basically tells him “yeah i feel you but you need to stop that”

-no time to die by billie eilish: ignore the romantic overtones but this is emma and norman, emma who trusted norman and was lied to, betrayed, for norman’s greater good, and norman who refuses to feel or hurt because of it, who refuses to apologize or see himself as wrong, pushes forward because he’s going to Pass Away

-achilles come down by gang of youths: hhhhh it's like. His vibe. Obviously you can disregard the lifestyle specific shit but it's. It's achilles come down you have to understand it’s like the same deal as friend, please just like french and longer

-friend, please by 21 pilots: i feel like i don't have to explain this one but it’s more to the manga (not the anime where he kind of figures out he done did wrong by himself instead of committing unforgivable sins and still going yeah this is valid before emma is like holy fuck). He is like sorry emma I cannot fix anything I’m going to die :) *coughs blood* and emma going like stop it stop it stop it fuck you see you fucked up and i forgive you just stop don’t walk away while he’s like “no<3”

why im a repressed little norman kinnie even tho he’s my exact opposite: I don’t generally kin ppl like norman, honestly he’s an infj I have no clue how it happened but I’m pretty sure it’s because of my intense desire to project onto a little man who cannot lift a milk jug and has chronic pain and decides you know what I AM tired of being nice i DO wanna go apeshit. Also he’s a twink. A little bastard. He’s a terrible person and I go mood every time he does anything. I said mood when he fell out of a tree. Don’t know what this says about me, I swear I wouldn’t commit no genocide. He’s like the inverse of Yoichi Saotome, and somehow i kin him too. Damn.

Miscellaneous headcanons:

-man’s SO attached to his william minerva cloak. He’s a wispy little bitch, you know he’s wearing that thing inside the house, he’s fucking cold. It also makes him Look Important he can retreat into it like an emo middle schooler with an oversized sweatshirt

-although you could probably get Mad street cred from having two whole brands you know he’s not gonna whip it out and show off his lambda thing he’s incredibly self conscious and his chest hasn’t seen the sun in years

-norman’s got MAD laundry skills to be able to wear like, all white all the time while constantly murdering people. I think he’s the only one who knows to do the laundry. And Ray is the only one who knows how to cook.

-but even then there’s gotta still be a few questionable stains on that thing, but if anyone asks he’s like “ketchup” “I’ve literally never seen you eat anything with that much color” “ketchup :)” *coughs blood*

-he’s probably thought “well i have not literally coughed blood yet today so I am not legally obligated to take care of myself”

-He probably adopted much of his current personality from taking on the persona of william minerva. I’m calling him out for being like me, he’s a blank motherfucker, he absorbs personality traits from characters he plays! He’s just not in theatre so it’s a bit more intense!

-the first time he sees barbara Eating Demon Meat he kinda stares and goes oh cool! not for me and violently exits the room. Like it's hilarious bc he thinks that's really gross on a moral level though he understands why she would do it 

-Which is even funnier bc I’m not sure about the canon on this but there was That Chapter Cover that one time that kinda seemed to imply norman eating demon meat which i absolutely latched onto because I’m terrible. He was just politely eating it. With a knife and fork like why dude. As to a possible reason for him doing that I can come up with, of course barbara does it out of spite, but man we don’t know the properties, if it had some sort of painkilling aspect to it or it was like, caffeine, you know he would, but he would Definitely not talk about it

-I kinda disagree with what the anime did in episode eight? It was good I liked it and the imagery was fantastic but also have you considered Norman could not kill someone with his own hands if he tried, or even physically injure them? That’s what his minions are for shawty. That doesn’t make it any less bad, of course, but the manga captured it perfectly by the fact of he carries around a dagger and a scepter in the capitol battle, but he never even raises it out of more than intimidation. He walks through calmly like he’s not scared at all but he makes sure all the lambda kids do all the actual murder, he just stands there impartially, clearly The Mastermind, as the kids fucking murder the queen of the demons. And I think that’s more profound because he’s, a coward. And he doesn’t realize being the one who orders the strike makes you just as responsible as the one who sticks the knife in someone. The knife is just there to Compensate™  for the fact that he weighs like eighty pounds.

-he’s more of like lady macbeth (because he’s a girlboss) than macbeth himself. He has blood on his hands, but it’s the kind of blood that you can’t wash off. He never killed anyone himself, and he cannot admit he never would have been able to.

-the last thing is that there are definitely epic things about the anime, episode 8 was my favorite so far, goddamn that imagery and the bitch walking through the city while it burns down with the screaming asmr going on behind him my god. We stan. But like the downside of, letting Emma and Ray get to him before he commits first degree murder makes the whole thing lose a lot of his value. In the manga (oh my god look at me being a pretentious manga fan please) it fit more of his ideas- he never backed down, and he planned for Emma coming and trying to stop him. Of course he wanted Emma to stop him, he wanted it with all his fucking heart he was pleading for it to happen but the man wouldn’t give himself what he wanted if he was held at gunpoint. He knew she’d come and he made absolutely sure she wouldn’t be able to stop him. So when she came and he said “you’re too late”??? It kind of said it all, in the fact that he was disappointed that he got his way. He still thought he did the right thing, but deep down there where he shoved all his thoughts and feelings he desperately wanted to be saved from himself.

So yeah, those are my thoughts. Feel free to eviscerate me if these are not Correct he is just my favorite girlboss who I feel the need to yell at

[gwynrielendgame]

Gwyn one shot

Idk I just write shit I think is chaotic

TW(possible): SA

Devlon was, once again, trying to invalidate the females who had won the blood rite. Gwyn didn't see why it was necessary for the three sisters to help train the other female Illyrians in their own camps. It would be much more beneficial for them to train at the house of wind training ring, away from all the male scrutiny. Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta knew how much it bothered Devlon that they had done so well in the rite. He had made comments here and there invalidating them and went as far as embarrassing them in front of other war camp leaders, suggesting that they only won because the Illyrian males went easy on them. Cassian and Azriel could only do so much. It was really starting to piss Gwyn off. She knew Devlon was provoking them, but Gwyn no longer seemed to care. He would continue to do this until one of the girls proved him wrong.

"I mean if we are speaking honestly, you females only did so well because you had each other. Individual hand-to-hand combat is a completely different playing field." Some of the higher rank males laughed along with Devlon. Nesta rolled her eyes while Emerie could not have looked less interested if she tried.

"Fine. Who do you want me to fight?" Gwyn snapped at the pigheaded male. It caught everyone by surprise. While Devlon was trying to goad them, he didn't think they would call him out by proving him wrong. Cassian and Azriel sent Gwyn a wary look. They knew her and Emerie won the blood rite, but they haven't seen any of the females actually fight. They would continue to underestimate her too.

"I don't expect you to actually fight any of my males, darling." He sent her a toothy grin as if they were in on the same joke. "It wouldn't be fair."

"Pick your guy and I'll fight him." She insisted. She would shut him up once and for all. Devlon had never seen her fight either. She would show him exactly where he could shove his "darling."

"Gwyn." Emerie muttered. Clearly hoping for Gwyn to shut up. If anyone knew of the Illyrians ruthlessness, it was her. Devlon smirked before scanning the area. There were several men training on the opposite side of the ring. Gwyn, her two sisters, Cassian, and Azriel (for some reason) were currently standing on the females side along side Devlon. They were supposed to be giving helpful tips, but the arrogant male had been too busy undermining them to allow any teaching to occur. Devlon stopped his scanning and turned to Gwyn.

"Trev. Come here." Devlon called to the other side. Almost predictably, the largest man over there came strutting over to them. When Gwyn made eye contact, she immediately froze. He was in the same group as her in the blood rite. He also woke up early. He seemed more fascinated by the weapons on the playing field than her, so she took his distraction as her time to escape. Trev stopped a few feet away from them and looked towards Devlon.

"You're going to do hand-to-hand combat with the half-breed." He sneered out the last word as though it might hurt Gwyn. She rolled her eyes. He was going to have to do a lot better than that if he wanted to hurt her. To his credit, Trev looked apprehensive.

"No weapons?"

"No." Devlon almost looked gleeful as he said this, but it caused Trev's eyes to nervously glance over to Nesta's.

"Seems unfair. Does the witch promise to leave me alone if I hurt her friend?" All eyes seemed to turn to Nesta who was glaring as per usual.

"I don't make promises I can't keep." Her response was curt, but it had Gwyn elbowing her in the ribs. If this was how she had to prove herself, then so be it. It appeared she would need her sisters on board for it though. "Fine. No witchy shit." Nesta conceded after an intense stare down with Gwyn. Cassian spoke up next.

"This seems like a bad idea." Gwyn shot him a glare. She knows he doesn't mean to do it, but comments like that undermine her ability as much as Devlon's. She could handle herself against anyone. She would never allow a man to have the upper hand again.

"She can do it." Azriel's quiet confidence had her sliding her eyes to meet him. She could find only support behind them which strengthened her resolve. She stepped inside the ring and quickly ran through her stretches. Just as Trev stepped in, she began her mind-stilling.

"Go." It was a singular, quiet word spoken by Devlon, but Gwyn was off. She knew that Trev wouldn't make the first move with his apprehension. Gwyn shot her fist into Trev's neck which had him bending over in a coughing fit. Gwyn grabbed the back of his head and shoved it into her knee. He was sprawled on the floor for less than a second before he hopped back up.

"Bitch." He muttered as he spit blood from his mouth. Gwyn could now see the anger simmering in his eyes. This is where the real fight began. They traded a series of blows, and punches, and kicks. Gwyn got hit so hard in the temple she started seeing stars, but she refused to give up. Her stubbornness wouldn't allow her to lose this fight. Gwyn once again got the upper hand by kicking the back of his knee which had him falling once more. She jabbed her fingers into his eyes which had him screaming. He managed to shove her back while yelling profanities at her. She wasn't playing fair and she knew that. She was taking as many low blows as she could. Trev wouldn't be used to this kind of combat considering other males liked to play by certain rules. Gwyn didn't have that sort of luxury being at such a physical disadvantage.

"Fuck you." He shouted then a small smirk quirked his lips up. "You should hear what the other males have to say about you." They were both circling each other at this point. The exhaustion was setting in for both of them and they needed a second to breathe. Gwyn didn't think the other males would gossip like teenage busybodies, but apparently she would be proven wrong. He threw out a fist that she barely blocked. It still clipped her jaw though.

"Didn't realize the great Illyrian warriors were such gossips." She huffed out. Stupid males.

"Those Illyrian warriors talk about how much they wanted your friends that day. How they would have been willing to lose the whole thing for one night with either of them. Didn't hear quite the same thing about you." Gwyn suddenly knew where this was going and blood roared in her ears. She impulsively threw a punch into his ribs that he easily blocked and responded with a punch of his own to her ribs. She realized then that that was his plan. Piss her off enough that she becomes sloppy. She started her mind-still again, but he wouldn't stop talking.

"I'm curious what's under those leathers. I didn't get a good look that day." He paused for only a second to drag his eyes up and down her body. It was enough to make her skin crawl. "I hear it is quite the canvas of scars. One of my brothers said one look at you in that nightgown had him gagging." Gwyn's breathing became much more labored.

"Shut up." She spit at him. She sent a kick to his thigh, but he stepped away too quickly.

"Another one of my brothers said your skin was so mutilated, he'd rather fuck a suriel." Trev laughed at that. Gwyn didn't peg him for a vindictive male, but she supposed he didn't like being made a fool of so quickly within their fight. "It's hard to know for sure without seeing with my own eyes though. Why don't you show a little skin?"

"You know what I have noticed about men?" Gwyn started. Her rage had peaked and she was about to let it out. "They don't play by the rules. So why should I?" Gwyn dropped down to her knees and swung her legs out. Trev fell hard, too slow to notice what Gwyn was doing. She was sitting on his chest. His arms stuck under her legs. She had pulled a hidden dagger out and shoved it through his lips. She held his tongue between two fingers and pressed the dagger heavily to it. Trev's eyes widen and Gwyn could hear shouts from outside the ring.

"What was that, Trev? I couldn't quite hear you. What were you saying about my body?" Trev was squirming with all his might but he had exhausted most of his energy by now, and Gwyn's anger was insatiable. She felt as though she had increased strength even for a fae. He was muttering and mumbling, but none of it made since with his tongue in her tight grasp.

"Don't get shy now. Speak up." Gwyn felt as though her anger could shoot out of her like a ray of light. It was uncontrollable. The shouting outside of the ring continued but Gwyn was only focused on the male in front of her. It wasn't until she registered the fear in his eyes that her anger started to dim. She finally could hear what they were saying.

"Gwyn, stop." That was Nesta.

"Gwyn, he didn't mean it." Emerie.

"Let him go." Cassian.

"Are you fucking crazy, you dumb bitch?" And that one was definitely Devlon.

It was as if she was burned by fire. One second she was about to cut his tongue out of his mouth and the next she was throwing herself off him and scrambling away. It appeared Trev was on the same mind set because he also was scrambling away from her.

"Sorry." Gwyn could barely choke it out. She didn't know what overcame her. She just hoped it never happened again. Her breathing was heavy as she searched her family's faces for the judgement that should be there. Nesta and Emerie looked concerned, Cassian looked wary, and Azriel looked...supportive? He had that same look on his face as before. As though he understood the rage that was boiling over inside before she shoved it back down.

"Sorry." Gwyn tried again. Devlon was looking over Trev at this point who still looked spooked. Both of the females jumped out of whatever daze they were in and grabbed Gwyn.

"We need to go." Nesta whispered. "Before Devlon can dish out any punishments." The beautiful high fae female was hurrying them over to Azriel to winnow them away. Cassian was staying behind. Probably to do damage control if Gwyn had to guess.

It wasn't until the were back in the personal library of the house of wind did Gwyn break down. She was so startled by her own wrath that she didn't know how to cope. Gwyn had never been cruel before, but in that moment, she felt cruel. Azriel left the females to comfort their sister, but not before whispering so only Gwyn could hear.

"Good job."