#that would be so wild of me to do I would NEVER do that and I’ll prove

[just-another-hippie]

OKAY LETS DO IT

1. It's super fucking complicated !!

2. @decomposing-atm <3

3. An awful lot, way too much to list here and basically all about my childhood :(

4. Ehh 50/50

5. Taken <3

6. I've been debating this for ages and I'm still not sure

7. Uhhh homemade wild berry compote on Greek yoghurt (fuckin fancy ik)

8. Yep! I was very athletic when I was younger but then illnesses and eds SLAPPED me so I stopped for a while, but I'm getting into bouldering and weightlifting now that I'm recovered :]

9. HELL NO

10. Uhh when my older stepsister was round last weekend because she likes to hurt me totally unprompted ://

11. My boyfie hehe

12. Uhhhh maybe?? I've pulled so many all-nighters I can't remember

13. I don't hate people because I believe it's bad for my mental health, I tend to set boundaries and burn bridges if people are bad to me, then wish them the best and hope that one day they will truly find happiness and become a better person

14. A lot of people :(

15. YES!! My cat hermione hehe I'll post a pic of her cause she's super duper cute

16. Ehh a bit mixed atm, I'm just making sure I keep fighting because I'm sure as shit gonna make it out alive.

17. No and as "sexy" as it seems I am also a MASSIVE germaphobe so please can we do it somewhere nicer /silly

18. VERY VERY VERY FUCKING MUCH GOD DAMN

19. Definitely, and I know exactly when in my childhood :/

20. Uhhh I think his room HAHA

21. Yikes umm

22. I don't plan to have bio kids because I'm anti-natalist, but if I was in the right headspace then I would adopt older kids which got left in the system

23. I have 5 piercings, double lobe piercings in both ears and a septum piercing! I'm getting snakebites next year and I'll think about what else after that!

24. Uhhh idk I hate school so bad >:(

25. Very very much so :(

26. Chocolate HAHA

27. N/A

28. N/A

29. N/A

30. The state of the world, my home life, my lack of organisation??

31. Yes!!

32. I think green, but I love colours so I'm not sure, I'm more about vibes

33. DEFO

34. Uhh last night it was hugging @strawberri-bomb-bomb which was hella sweet because I miss them

35. Unfortunately my mother

36. I used to an awful lot, but I absolutely don't anymore

37. I may forgive but I never forget

38. Fuck yeah it will be

39. 14 <3

40. I fear not /silly

(Apparently they skipped some)

51. Man I love food so much I literally couldn't pick LMAO

52. I used to, but I lost my faith last year, I'm trying to get back to that sense of peace I had in knowing that what will be will be

53. Talk to my boyfie and drink chamomile tea

54. Absolutely fucking not!! unless you're trapped in an abusive relationship that you've tried to leave, any other circumstance go fuck yourself

55. No!! My whole thing is about peace, love, and kindness!!

56. Uhh not too many I hope

57. Absolutely 100000000%

58. SUNSHINE!!!!!

59. Hell yes, I wish we had it more where I live i love it sm :((

60. Yes!!

61. YES!!

62. So much that it deserves its own list

63. I already have socially but I will legally on my birthday!! If we mean change my name from my name now then I'm not inclined to, but I wish I chose a cooler name /j

64. The only challenge is distance /j

65. Then I'd tell them no thank you let's stay friends!!

66. Uhh I pick my friends very wisely so I'm comfortable around all of them I think, but some more than others

67. I have no idea I've slept for ages and it was like a coma /silly

68. Uhhhh I don't know maybe my boyfie??

69. ABSOLUTELY

70. The people closest to my heart

I did itttt!!

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[keikikait]

ʙᴀʙʏ ʙʟᴜᴇ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.8k

summary: you're just one of his many conquests, so why does he need you?

warnings: ANGST, friends with benefits, mild yearning/pining, rafe cannot handle his emotions, ward mention, slight jealous!reader, not proofread

a note: idk if i ate. i'm sorry that it's a little short. :( also, my stalker!rafe fic needs SERIOUS work, so i decided to upload this instead. i am very unhappy with it.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Sometimes you think you aren’t meant to be loved. 

It’s almost comical, the way you just sit there and take it. The way you let him walk all over you, taking bites out of you just to toss you aside for later. He cut off slices of you when he needed, never taking the full thing. Always little samples, just to keep you hooked. He would chew you up and spit you out, and you would always come crawling back.

You watch as Rafe dresses himself, eyes landing on his ass as he pulls up his boxers. He always dresses so quickly, not even handing you a towel as he paces around your room, gathering his things. At first, you thought he just didn’t like your apartment. You were a Pogue, after all, even though you were lucky enough to move to a nicer area of The Cut. You spent a lot of time redecorating, trying to make it a little bit nicer. A little bit cleaner. Anything to get him to stay.

Your apartment was small. Cozy. Quaint. 

It reeks of you. And that’s why Rafe won’t stay.

Rafe turns around, catching your eye. He can’t help the small smile that stretches across his lips as he pulls his jeans on. “Admiring the view?”

“For as long as I can.” You say.

Your response surprises him, and his eyes widen just slightly. He stares for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He clears his throat, breaking eye contact. “You’re too sweet for your own good.” He mutters, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his socks on.

“I wish you would stay.” You mumble, aching to reach out and touch him. But you don’t.

“I know you do,” Rafe sighs, tying his shoes on. “But I can’t, sweetheart. You know that.”

“I do.” Your voice is soft.

“So why do you keep asking me to stay?” It comes out angrier than he intended. But maybe you needed that.

“I…” You swallow hard. “I don’t know.”

“My answers always no. Why do you keep askin’?” Rafe stands, grabbing his wallet and keys off of the bedside table. “Shit’s starting to piss me off.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, sitting up, holding the duvet to your chest. You feel like you’re always telling him that. 

“Quit being sorry. Just stop fucking asking it,” He turns to face you. “Jesus. It’s not that hard.”

You don’t know what to say. You nod, looking down.

Rafe sighs, running a hand through his hair. He can’t deny, he loves when you look like that. Sad. Vulnerable. It drives him wild. His gaze lands on your neck, bruised and marked by his teeth. Possession looks good on you, He often thinks. 

But that was it. He could only take so much of your submission. He couldn’t take you asking him to stay, too.

“I won’t ask again.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, still avoiding his gaze.

His jaw tightens and he stares at you. He wants to take you and claim you. To show you were his, and only his. But he didn’t want to keep you. Why would he? “Good.” Rafe walks around the bed and stands in front of you. He reaches out, grabbing your chin and forcing it up. “And look at me when I’m talking to you.”

You nod, looking up at him, mascara still smeared on your under eyes. 

Rafe studies your face. God, you always looked so beautiful like this. Broken and upset. The sight had him wanting to take and claim you all over again. But the look of submission in your eyes makes him want to push you even more. “You look pretty like this.” He murmurs, pushing your neck to the side and looking at the hickeys on your neck. “It suits you.”

“Thank you.” You say, although you don’t like it. You didn’t like this version of you, the pathetic girl who would do anything and everything for one iota of his attention; but it got him into your arms, so that’s really all that matters.

“I wonder why that is? Why you look so pretty when you’re crying?” His fingers lightly trace over your collarbone, sending a shiver down your spine. He knows that it doesn’t matter whether you like it or not. You were addicted to him, craving his attention more than you craved anything else. You’d take whatever he gave you. That was the only thing Rafe loved about you.

“Because my lips get all pouty, and my eyes get all red?” You guess, resisting the urge to lean into his palm.

Rafe almost laughs at your answer. It was cute. “Hmm,” He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, gently brushing them. “Yeah, probably.” His eyes meet yours, staring at your face. You were so easy to break. So easy to control. You’d let him do whatever he wanted, no fight or protest. Just endless submission. It was addicting.

You’re getting restless. “Have any plans today?”

Rafe’s hand falls from your face, and his jaw tightens. You always did this. You always try to make small talk, try to create some type of emotional connection between you, even though you knew deep down that he didn't give a shit about you or about your day. “Yeah. I do.” He picks his jacket up from the bed. “Have to go visit my dad's lawyer. Then I’m meeting some friends.”

“That sounds fun,” You say, although meeting with Ward’s lawyer must have something to do with life insurance. “Uh, being with your friends later, I mean.”

“Yeah.” He mutters, shrugging his jacket on. He grabs his keys from the bedside table and glances at you. It’s hard, watching you try to connect to him. He knows that you want more than this. You want to be his girlfriend. You want the world to know you’re his. 

But that couldn’t happen. And you knew that.

“Are you, um…” You shift on the bed, the duvet falling just a little bit. “Are you gonna come back over tonight?”

Rafe glances at you, eyes falling to the duvet. God, he loved how you were always trying to keep him around. He loved watching you try and fail to keep his attention. He lets out a deep breath, running a hand over his buzzed head. “Do you want me to?” He already knows your answer.

“Only if you want to,” You say, trying to not come across as even clingier than you already are. “You know my door’s always open for you.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes. You were always so predictable. So needy. So willing. He starts to wonder when he'll get sick of it. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” He grunts, picking his phone up off of the bedside table and shoving it in his pocket. “I don’t know yet. Might be with Sofia tonight.”

Your soft smile drops, just for a second, and you hope Rafe doesn’t notice.

Sofia.

Sofia?

Who the hell is Sofia?

You knew everyone he hung out with. Every girl. You had tabs on all of them, shamefully. You didn’t know who the hell Sofia was. Had you missed someone? How had she managed to slip through the cracks?

Under the covers, you dig your nails into your thigh. You had to act casual, as normal as you could be. You were always treading thin ice with him, and you couldn’t risk losing him over this. Your smile returns and you give him a nod. “Cool. Just text me.”

Rafe watches as your smile falters for a moment. He knows it. He knows that you’re jealous. There was no way that you weren't. It didn’t take much to make you jealous. He could make one passing comment about a girl, and you’d spend the rest of the day worrying, wondering who she was. That's why he brought up Sofia, and why he always mentions his other girls to you. Something about the idea of you laying in bed, terrified and anxious to lose him, really excited him.

He smirks as you quickly regain composure, knowing that he got to you. “Yeah. I’ll text you.” He says, turning to leave.

“Drive safe.” You say.

He stops as he stands in the doorway. Something about you telling him to drive safe always made him… feel guilty. It was that damn softness you always had and used against him. He glances at you over his shoulder, swallowing whatever sentiment he was feeling. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You hate Sofia.

After a bit of sleuthing, logged into one of your many burner accounts, you finally find her. She’s a Pogue, like you, and for some reason you find that it stings more. She’s gorgeous, absolutely beautiful, the sweetest girl around, and you fucking hate her.

Rafe had a roster. A rotation, the same few girls on repeat until he got bored, where he would swap a few out for fresh meat. You don’t know how you managed to stay on the roster for this long, but you weren’t complaining. Maybe Rafe thought you had another guy out there, filling your cunt and your bed when he was gone, but you didn’t. You’re too busy being Rafe’s to fall for somebody new.

You used to not care about the other girls. The more and more he mentioned them, though, you got curious. You started looking them up on Instagram, stalking their profile through burners and analysing every post. Every story. None of the girls ever looked like you. None of the girls were like you at all. Why did he like them, and why did he like you?

You wonder if he treats the other girls as poorly, or if in some twisted way, you’re special. You could handle being the only girl that Rafe treated like shit if that meant you stood out to him in some way. You wonder if he fills their necks with hickies, too, if he grips their hips too hard and leaves bruises, if he spanks them until his handprints form welts on your ass cheeks.

You hoped to God you were special.

You tried to distract yourself, running errands and tidying your apartment, but you kept thinking about him. About his stupid baby blue eyes, and his stupid pretty face, and his stupid hands and the way they felt around your neck. You didn’t want to be in love with Rafe fucking Cameron, but you feared you were already in too deep, and soon you would drown, falling below the surface, hand outstretched, hoping just this once that he would pull you up.

You sit on your bed, in the dark and the silence, staring at your phone, waiting for it to light up. Waiting for him to text you, to need you.

The hours pass. Midnight. One and two. Three. Before four o'clock rolls around, you still have nothing. You know that you should just give up and go to bed. He probably passed out at his friends’ place, too drunk and too tired to text you, but you keep telling yourself that he's just busy. That he's gonna wake up any moment now and shoot you a text. 

You're praying that something happens, that something keeps you up and keeps you waiting for those messages that you know he most likely won't send. You want him to finally fucking want you in the way that you want him. You didn’t like feeling this way, it wasn’t fun to constantly torture yourself, but is it not fun to feel many other ways? If it wasn’t Rafe, it would just be someone else. Another man, someone else’s son, reminding you that no matter how hard you try, you just aren’t meant to be loved.

Why don’t you do it for him? Why aren’t you enough to get him to stay?

You tap the screen, and it lights up. No new notifications.

“Shit.” You mumble, your hand retreating to your side.

You sigh and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Of course, he isn’t going to text you. Why would he? Why would he do that to you, when he never had before? This is exactly what you expected. This is exactly what he loves. Making you doubt, getting you jealous. It gets him off. It’s a game for him. You were his prey, and he was your predator. 

As you lay, staring at your ceiling, you hear three, quick knocks on your door.

At first, you think you’ve imagined them. You sit up, your feet sliding into your slippers as you pad into the living room. You stand there in silence, in the dark, only listening to your own breathing. You’re about to turn around when there’s another knock, this time loud and pounding against your door.

You cross the rest of the room, undoing the locks and opening the door.

Standing on your doorstep, of course, was Rafe, hands in his pockets as he stares you down. He seems… tired. He had dark circles under his eyes, probably from staying out late. He glances at you from behind those tired eyes, his gaze falling over your body. He’s taking note of the oversized t shirt you’re wearing, and how your hair is dishevelled and messier than it was before. He could tell you had been lying down. “Can I come in?”

Something's off, you can tell. He’s acting different, even though it’s just subtly. You watch him as he chews on his lip, an anxious habit he didn’t think you noticed. “What’s wrong?”

Rafe’s expression falters for a split second, before he quickly regains his composure. He was fine. Nothing was wrong. Except for the fact that you asked him that. He looks over you. “Nothing,” He responds, his voice harsh and biting. “I just wanted to see you. That’s all.”

You don’t believe him. He normally carries himself with intense confidence and gravitas, so much so it constantly inks into your lungs and chokes you, but this was different. He felt different. “Right.”

He swallows hard, shifting on his feet. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like the way you were looking at him. Concerned, like you cared. He glances away from you, sighing. “Can I come in?” He repeats his question, eyes flicking between you and your living room.

You nod, stepping aside and holding the door opening, flicking a light switch. One of your lamps turns on, casting a warm, soft glow over your living room.

Rafe strides into your apartment, immediately heading for your couch. Everything in your place was so damn cozy; the warm light, the soft couch, your scent lingering on every single inch of every single surface. He collapses back onto the couch, arms spread out and legs splayed. He runs a hand over his face, swallowing hard.

You sit next to him, and for a while, you two sit in a comfortable silence. You look over at him, pushing some hair behind your ears. Your voice is soft when you finally speak. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Rafe closes his eyes, sighing as you speak. He didn’t want to tell you about Ward. Not when you were like this, so gentle and caring. He was exhausted, to say the least. He was dealing with so much, all at once, and he didn't know what to do. Finally, he looks at you. In this lighting, with your hair messy and your eyes concerned, you looked even more like the sweet girl he always wished you were. Sweet and caring and loving. “Today was my dad's funeral.”

Your shoulders droop, and your eyes soften. You had no idea. He had only mentioned visiting his father’s lawyer to you yesterday morning. “Shit, I’m sorry, Rafe. I’m so sorry.”

Rafe almost groans. He loved you when you were soft, when you were sweet. He loved it more than he cared to admit, but right now he hated it. He hated it when you were this caring. It made him doubt everything. He glances at you, a lump in his throat. He hated when you looked at him that way. Because he knew that no matter what he did, you would always have that warmth in your eyes when you looked at him. You would always forgive him, no matter what he did.

Part of him wishes his dad could’ve met you.

You reach out and put your hand on his shoulder, trying not to overstep. Rafe stares down at your hand, so small in comparison to his shoulder. Something about it makes his chest tighten. It seems intimate, and he feels… safe. Safe with you. Which is a feeling he hasn't felt in God knows how long. 

His hand slowly lifts, his rough fingers wrapping around your wrist. He brings your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. Your thumb brushes over his cheek gently, back and forth.

God, the feeling of you touching him, comforting him, was too much. Your touch was too gentle and warm, and he hated that he wanted it. He hated the way his chest ached at the sight of your soft, kind expression. He had so many reasons he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be letting you touch him like this, and yet there was something inside of him, a small voice in the back of his mind, constantly begging him to please let you take care of him. “Can I ask you something?”

“‘Course.” You say softly. 

Rafe glances at you, eyes flicking between your hand and your face. God, he hated this. Your touch on his face, the tenderness in your voice, the look in your eyes. It was driving him absolutely insane. His eyes close, as if he was debating if he actually wanted to ask you this. “Am I poison? Am I poison in the water?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.

He opens his eyes again, hand still holding yours to his cheek. He holds your gaze, eyes softening. He hated how vulnerable he was, and yet there was a small piece of him, buried deep inside, that needed it. He could tell you anything right now, and you wouldn't judge him. You would just listen. Care. “Do I… poison everything I touch? Am I the poison that kills everything?”

“No, of course not,” You move closer to him on the couch. “Why would you ask that?”

God, he could smell you, your perfume a subtle, sweet scent that was driving him crazy. He closes his eyes as you move closer, and his jaw tightens. This was insane; he wasn't weak, he wasn't vulnerable, he did not need you. But then again, the hand on yours on his face had yet to move. “Because,” his voice drops to a whisper. “I know that I'm a sick, twisted bastard. I know that I make others sick. I hurt everyone I care about.”

“Rafe, I will admit you aren’t exactly the nicest guy,” You swallow roughly, unsure of what to even say. “But you still have people that care about you. Your friends, your sisters. They know the real Rafe, the guy underneath all the aggression.”

He lets out a long, shaky breath. God, he hated this. He hated being vulnerable. He hated opening up to you, and seeing that look of concern in your eyes. He wants to run, to close you out, leave and forget this ever happened. He wants to go back to treating you like one of his conquests, instead of feeling like he wanted you to hold him. But for some reason, his mouth wasn't listening to his brain. “But what about you?”

“Of course, I care about you,” You say. “I thought that would at least be obvious.”

He had a thousand different replies on the tip of his tongue, but instead his mouth just opened and closed, words dying when they left his lips. Everything in his mind was screaming at him to get up and leave, but there was a deeper part of him, a small piece of himself that he kept buried inside, deep in the back of his mind, that kept whispering, telling him to sit. It was the part that kept his hand on your wrist. He swallows hard, looking away. “I wish my dad was still here.”

“I know,” You say softly. “I’m sorry.”

He felt his eyes begin to sting, something that only added to his frustration. Frustration at himself, for being pathetic enough to cry. Frustration at you, for making him weak enough to cry. Frustration at Ward, for leaving him and his sisters behind. He suddenly hated everything. He hated you. He hated himself. He hated Ward for leaving him with feelings, making him weak. “I don't even know why I came here,” He mutters through gritted teeth. “I just... I wish I could've been good enough for him. I tried to be good.”

“You don’t know how Ward truly felt about you, Rafe.” You say, stroking his cheekbone again.

He hated the way you were comforting him, hated the way you were so gentle with him. He was always on the defensive, on the attack, so when someone was soft with him... Well, the way his chest ached was proof that it was something he wasn't used to. He swallows hard, closing his eyes. “But I do. His actions spoke louder than his damn words ever did,” He chuckles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It's so stupid, you know, I... I used to pray I’d be like him, do everything that he did. And sometimes I still do.”

“That’s not stupid.” You say.

He lets his hand fall from your wrist, shaking his head. He hated talking about this, he hated admitting how much Ward’s death has messed him up. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to open up to anybody. The words leaving his lips, however, were not his own. “I hate that I don’t know if he was proud of me... I hate that I’ll never know if I did right by him.”

You remove your hand when he goes to cover his face. You watch him for a few moments, unsure of what to do, when you notice his shoulders shake. 

Is he crying?

Your eyes widen when you hear a sob rip through him, shoulders shaking up and down. “Hey, hey, Rafe, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”

He hated crying, absolutely hated it, but there he was, shoulders trembling, tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried. “I’m not even- I…” His voice breaks, chest rattling. He lets out a long, shaky breath, shaking his head as he wipes away the tears from his cheeks. He couldn’t even look at you. He hated feeling so weak. Hated that you were seeing this side of him.

“It’s okay,” You put your arm around him, trying to hug him. “It’s okay--”

Rafe suddenly stands, pushing you back. “No. Don’t… don’t fucking pretend like you care.” He wipes his tears with the back of his hand, ashamed that he let Ward affect him this much. He was supposed to be strong. Powerful. Not weak.

“I’m not pretending.” You say, standing up.

His jaw tightens, his expression hardening into a sharp glare. God, he was tired of you, of your sweet words, of your gentle smiles. It was messing with his head, playing with his feelings. “Yeah, right.” He mutters, shaking his head. “You don’t care, don’t bullshit me.”

“Of course I care about you, Rafe,” You say, taking a step closer to him. “I… I lov--”

“No!” He suddenly snaps at you. He didn't want to hear that. He couldn't. “Don’t… don’t you dare,” You stare at him, confusion on your pretty little face, and it’s driving him fucking crazy. “Don’t. Don’t tell me. Keep that shit to yourself.”

You don’t know what to say, and you don’t want to upset him even more. You just nod, taking a step back.

He wanted to hit something. He wanted to break something. He hated the sight of that look on your face. The confusion, the worry, the disappointment. He didn’t understand. Why did you care? He didn’t deserve it, not one bit. What the hell did you think you’d get out of loving someone like him? That he’d love you back? That he’d change for you?

The silence is deafening. You want to say something, you just don’t know what. You take a shaky breath. “I’m here for you, Rafe. You know that. In any way you need me.”

“Why?” He asks suddenly, eyes meeting yours. “Why are you still here for me? Why do you care about me so goddamn much? Why can’t you just give up on me, like everyone else has?”

“Do I look like everyone else?” You ask.

Oh, but that was the problem. You were different. You were the only person in that damn town who was as sweet as you were patient. Who cared so god-damn much about someone so undeserving of that love. “Don’t you think I know that?” He asks, voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t you think it pisses me off that you are the way you are?”

“I just want you to be happy, Rafe, and if I can make you happy, I want to.” You say.

Why did you have to be so goddamn sweet? It was driving him mad, the way you stood there, so willing and eager to do whatever it took to help him. He let out a long, shaky breath, staring down at you. “It was different when you were just some girl I was hooking up with.” He says, shaking his head.

“I’m still that girl,” You insist. “Nothing has to change. We can go back to normal. Forget this ever happened.”

His eyes narrow as you speak. He hated that you said that, hated how willing you were to forget the fact that he cried in front of you, and yet he hated himself for the fact that he almost wanted to agree. “Really?” He asks, his voice sharp. “You’d just… forget this? Go back to letting me use you, like nothing happened?”

“If that’s what you want.” You say.

He hated the idea of that. The idea of going back to using you. Of treating you like trash when he knew that you cared so damn much. 

Part of him liked hurting you, like watching you fall apart at his hands. But it was the other side of him that hated how good it felt at first, hated the pit of shame in his chest that grew each time you begged him to stay, or cried while he left, or looked at him like he meant the world to you.

Part of him knew you deserved better.

Rafe sighs, looking away. “Fine. We forget about this.”

“Okay.” You say, nodding.

The fact that you didn't say anything, that you didn't fight back, made his chest ache. God, he hated this. He wanted to yell at you. Wanted to push you down, pin you to the couch, and make you cry out his name. He wanted you to ask him to stay, fight him to prove to him that you cared. He hated how your willingness to forget it all made him want to wrap his arms around you. He couldn't stay. He would do something risky, something that he would regret in the morning. He sniffles, wiping his eyes again. “I'm gonna go.”

You swallow thickly. “If you’re sure. My door is always open.”

“Yeah,” He replies, his voice hoarse. He hated that your gentleness, your sweetness, still managed to get to him. He steps closer to you. He wanted to touch you again. To feel your warm, soft skin against his palm. But he knew better. He knew that if he touched you, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. “Thanks for being there.” He mumbles, his voice cracking.

“Of course.” You smile softly.

He hates how your smile makes his chest ache, hates the tug it gives his heart. He hated how he cared about you, hated how he was so weak that he allowed himself to open up to you. And God, he hated how he was thinking about kissing your pretty, pouty lips. “I'll be back tomorrow night. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Rafe nods, licking his lips. He rocks back and forth on his feet before reaching out and cupping the back of your head, pressing his lips to your forehead. Enough to keep you hooked. “See you later, sweetheart.”

Your entire body is buzzing. “Drive safe.”

You’re still standing in the same spot when he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

And you will wait for the next time he wants you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

blagh

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[reidswrld]

me & you together song.

❛ i’ve been in love with her for ages, and i can’t seem to get it right. ❜

spencer reid x reader.

summary: you’ve always assumed spencer reid’s love language was acts of service. flowers left at your desk. notes written only to you. every tuesday, he gave you your favorite bagel from downtown. you knew he was like this with the rest of the team, too. you didn’t sweat it. you were focused on your job, and your job only. but when multiple instances occur over the course of a case, it’s hard to ignore both of your feelings for each other.

tags: grumpy fem!character x sunshine!spencer reid, friends to lovers, everyone knows but them, the bau literally bets when they’ll get together, no use of y/n, afab character, found family if you squint hard enough, spencer’s obsessed with her but won’t admit it to the public (the public is morgan), based on me & you together song by the 1975 btw, i wrote this while eating a doritos loco taco

word count: 2k

notes: i asked my best friends to give me a character and a trope. happy first post!

When you first landed the job as an agent at the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, you first told yourself not to get too attached. This was a job, after all. A career. A high risk one, that could end in fatalities and wounds that might never heal, cuts that will always bleed for the rest of eternity. Once you made it clear to yourself that you were to be civil with your coworkers —close enough to be friendly, but not enough to go out for drinks on Saturday nights— and most important of all, do your job, and do it damn well, you poured yourself a glass of wine and watched the rest of the season of the sitcom you’ve been meaning to finish.

However, with all of the ups and downs your job gave you, it could not have allowed for you to expect the boisterous chaos that were your coworkers. They welcomed you in not only with open arms, but open minds. They respected your boundaries, your ideas, everything about you. Your attempt at remaining just civil became useless after months, but looking back, how could you have tried any longer? Penelope gave you a big kiss on the cheek every week, exclaiming that she loved your outfits and needed to go shopping with you right that minute. Morgan ruffled your hair whenever he brought you coffee (despite your incessant dismay that now you needed to brush it again). Hotch, though not a fan of public displays, would murmur a reassuring, you’re doing well every time he returned a file back to you. And then there was Reid.

Spencer Reid.

Well, what was there to say about him?

Over time, you’ve assumed that his love language must be acts of service. He brought you a bagel every week, sometimes more, from your favorite bagel shop downtown. Every Tuesday, a poppy seed bagel with extra plain cream cheese, extra toasted, cut in half so you could eat the middle dollop of cream cheese first. He made you mugs of tea whenever it grew past five pm because you told him that you had trouble falling asleep once months ago. Sometimes, small bouquets of wild grown flowers were left on your desk. At first, you thought it was Penelope being extra kind to you, or even Morgan playing a small joke on you. Both denied, but still giggled as you walked away. Whatever that meant. Behind your back, they secretly slipped each other five dollar bills.

You were sure he did the same for the rest of his coworkers, too. You’ve seen him refill coffee pots whenever Emily mentioned starting a new brew, and work extra hard on his reports in his free time to make sure Hotch or JJ didn’t stay too late. You were on the same page, anyway. Friends. Civil. It didn’t matter.

You huffed as you walked into the BAU, which was deemed more of a half jog, half marathon sprint. You hadn’t bothered to check the weather before leaving, and on the walk from the subway station to the office, it had started downpouring. The sudden drops of cold from the sky had caused you to drop your half empty cup of coffee, and you had forgotten to grab the breakfast you made yourself the night before in the fridge. Not even Harry Styles’ album blaring in your ears could have stopped you from turning the morning around. You grumbled simple good morning’s to everyone as you shook off your coat. Expecting to see your desk surrounded with papers that you were too tired to file in their intended drawers yesterday, you instead found a clean one; the papers were stashed in their designated places (in alphabetical order), the pens were compiled in the pouch you bought at Daiso years ago and cherished, even the trash under your desk was taken out. The only thing left to be seen on the wooden desk was a small brown bag that smelled of heaven and happiness and a folded piece of paper. You reached inside to find your usual poppy seed bagel the same as it always was. To make your Tuesday better. For you, always, the note read. You didn’t need to decipher whose scribbles those belonged to. You forgot it was Tuesday.

“Where’s my bagel, lover boy?” Morgan’s voice boomed as the man sat on top of your desk, snatching the bag with a grin. Spencer only swiftly passed by the desk with ease, choosing to make eye contact with the carpet.

“Good morning, Dr. Reid. Happy Tuesday.” Spencer’s eyes divert to yours quickly. He only nods, responding with the same greeting. Happy Tuesday, honey.

Morgan’s laugh carried throughout the room, swinging his legs as he spoke. “You two make me sick, that’s for sure. Can I have some of your bagel?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You furrowed your brow in annoyance, which only made Morgan smile widely.

“Do you need to get your glasses checked again? You know, there’s an optometrist across the street—”

As you started to speak, Hotch walked from his office, announcing a new case and to meet in the room immediately. You got up swiftly, grabbing your bagel from Morgan’s hands with a muttered asshole falling from your lips. It only made Morgan cackle loudly. You remind yourself to write a psych evaluation on Morgan after the case is over with.

On the first day of the case, you realized it was going to be a more difficult one than usual. You didn’t panic. You never do. The second day, you worked harder than ever only to see little to no result. You continued not to sleep. It was like clockwork. Work, coffee, repeat. After three days, the case was far from settled. In fact, it seemed to only be getting worse with no ending in sight. Everyone was continuing to work in hopes that they would be home for the weekend. The fourth day, though, seemed to be the worst. The killer was getting more spontaneous with their kills, and the team seemed to keep showing up minutes after the kill had occurred. You were running on little to no sleep and were getting more frustrated with each move the killer made in silence. Near the end of the day, as you stared aimlessly at the wall in front of you, hoping it would make some sort of answer appear in front of your eyes, Hotch put a hand on your shoulder, You jumped slightly, trance be gone, when he told you to get back to the hotel immediately.

Immediately, you persisted. “I’m fine. I’ve almost got something. I’m sure of something.”

“I’m not asking you.”

“Hotch—”

“I’m ordering you, not only as your boss, but mostly as your friend. Your dark circles are getting concerning.” You tried to budge once more, but as Hotch gave one of his stern glares, you knew you were done with work for the day. “I’ll get someone to drive you back. Wait here.”

Within seconds, Spencer appeared, replacing the previous figure of Hotch. Gently tapping your shoulder, he signaled for you to get up. With a flick of a wrist and a soft grin, he spun around a set of keys around his fingers. “Hotch is letting me drive.”

You smiled. “Don’t want Morgan to ‘vibe it?’”

“His definition of ‘vibing it’ is just turning on the sirens when he doesn’t want to stop at a red light.” You walked side by side to the car. Your shoulders brushed ever so slightly due to Spencer’s hands in his pockets, but you didn’t mind. You welcomed the warmth.

“Your definition is turning the volume up to 13 and calling it loud.”

“I would like to be able to hear when I’m old, thank you very much. Any decibel over eighty and poof. Hearing. Out the window.”

“I really don’t think playing Queen at any volume above 13 will kill you, Spence.”

“You never know, honey.” Spencer opened the door for you, ushering you in before closing the door and getting in on the driver’s side. He pulled a cassette tape from his bag and pushed it in the radio; it started to softly play Queen while Spencer messed with the volume, setting it at 13 before driving away. It made a soft smile appear on your lips as your head leaned against the cool glass. Between the constant, soothing movement of the car or the way Spencer’s lips mouthed the lyrics of Good Old Fashioned Boy, it was hard to tell when the lines blurred and sleep drifted you away. The only thing you recognized before falling asleep were the unmistakable words that left Spencer’s mouth.

“Good night, honey. Love you.”

You woke up with a start the next morning. You had no idea how you got back into your hotel room, or how you were wearing your favorite sports shirt that you find comfort in sleeping in all of these years, though your mind directed each question back to the same person, of course. Your mind wandered to the night before; it was the most relaxed you had been all week, even if it was just the simple act of driving with Spencer. You had done it before in past cases —even driven him back to his hotel at times— but this time felt different. Maybe it was the words that left his mouth.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” Spencer suddenly walked in, holding bags in his arms. He set them down on the table, pulling out various assortments of breakfast foods and handing them to you. “No bagel shops around here, but I did find some good pancakes if you want to eat now.”

“Spence.” You suddenly sat up straight, as if a revelation hit you.

“What? No pancakes? It came with hashbrowns, too.”

“Spencer.” You emphasized, getting him to look at you.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you do all of this for me?”

“What?” His head cocked to the side, not understanding.

“Why do you… I mean… you go out of your way to do things for me. Unnecessary things. I need to know why.”

“Unnecessary…?”

“You… you leave me flowers that are like, hand picked from a garden or the forest, or something not from the city. You clean my desk for me when I’ve left it too messy. You make me my favorite tea when I’m at the office too late. You write me notes that are alluding but you won’t say what. I mean, Spence, you get me my favorite bagel every Tuesday. Why?”

His face suddenly turned serious as he sat next to you on the bed. “You want to know why?” He repeated.

“I know you do these things for the rest of our team, but I just, I just don’t get it.”

“Because I’m in love with you.” Spencer stared at you. “I’ve been in love with you. I think I’ll always be at least a little in love with you, if I’m being honest. I thought you’d catch on by now.”

“…What?”

“Yeah, honey. I thought I was pretty obvious.”

“So you meant what you said last night, then?” You said softly.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Really. I would’ve said it better if I had known you were awake.”

“But I did.” Your face grew closer to his. “And I’m not upset about it. Because I’m in love with you, too.”

Just as your lips began to brush, Spencer began to smile. “You know what day it is, honey? It’s our day.”

You smiled, too. “Happy Tuesday.”

You both tried to be subtle about it for the rest of the case. Weeks had passed by without the team knowing, but one slip up of a kiss on the cheek from Spencer on a Tuesday morning had led to an entire office full of chaos (and a meeting on workplace romance and consent from Hotch). You two didn’t mind, though. It was bound to happen. Until Penelope turned to Morgan and yelled at him to cough up the fifty dollars he owed her, of course.

Happy Tuesday.

[birdylion]

first: neither my post nor the original post are fact-checked, so I'm just talking about the rhetoric here:

"illegal aliens" sounded just so much like a dog whistle that I had to google it:

For a usage of illegal to count as a dog whistle the context must be undocumented immigrants—often referred to by Trump as “criminal illegal aliens”.

from "“I Am the Law and Order Candidate”: A Content Analysis of Donald Trump’s Race-Baiting Dog Whistles in the 2016 Presidential Campaign" by Brian P. Tilley (Link)

I don't know the author and can't do an in-depth research now, but what I get from this is:

When he says "illegal aliens" he means "undocumented immigrants". I don't know who counts as such, but it's certainly people living in the US right now, right?

It's unclear what qualifies as "crimes" but it seems to me that this is a door that can be opened wide, fast. About anything can be a crime if you write laws that make it so and have a government and juristiction who back you. I am not American and don't know enough about the current situation to say how imminent the danger of "anything" being labeled a crime is. All I'm saying is that this seems to me like a wild card, a flexible part of the whole thing

Finally, the death penalty. Whoever he sees as an "illegal alien" (undocumented immigrants) having committed what he deems a "crime" (minor as it may be, or even just via planted evidenceby cops), he just wants to be able to just kill (murder).

Also the Greenland thing sounds ridiculous, but his claim that they "want to become part of the US" is the EXACT same playbook that Putin used with the Crimea and with Ukraine. Exactly the same. It sounds to me like he's taking advice from him, trying to play the same book. Push the same narrative again and again and some day people will start taking it seriously as if it had any value. And actually if he tried to take it by force I'm not sure who could reasonably come to defend it. What would NATO even mean if one of the members invaded another? I'm not saying that it will happen, but maybe it wouldn't be too surprising.

Never let his nonsense-sounding speech distract you from his very real, very fascist politics.

i watched the livestream of trump signing executive orders and answering questions from the press. here are some of the big ones + other things mentioned today:

trump declared a national emergency at the southern border + is getting the US military more involved in stopping "invasions including mass migration"

no one can declare asylum in the US

all existing appointments for people wanting to legally become US citizens are canceled

birthright citizenship (aka the 14th amendment) is now gone

ICE sweeps beginning "soon," not specifying when (though there are rumors it's starting tomorrow in sanctuary cities such as chicago)

mexican cartels are now designated "foreign terrorist organizations" and trump is not opposed to US troops entering mexico to eliminate them

he restored the death penalty for "crimes committed by illegal aliens"

biden had signed an executive order attempting to stop cops from using chokeholds or doing no-knock warrants. trump just revoked that order

25% tariffs on canada and mexico begin on feb 1 2025 — expect a lot of produce imported from mexico to get more expensive soon

tariffs on china will begin soon, not specified when

trump said he intends to take back the panama canal, did not specify when or how

january 6 insurrectionists are to be immediately released/pardoned

he pardoned the leader of the proud boys

tiktok has a 90 day extension, during which the US gov will try to buy 50% of tiktok. trump said he no longer cares that china is "spying on our young people," but he wants to buy half of tiktok so the US government "can police it a little bit, or a lot." if tiktok will not sell, it will be banned in the US again.

he claims the people of greenland want to become part of the US

he says the gulf of mexico is now to be called the "gulf of america" + denali is now to be called "mount mckinley"

alaska is to be mined and become the US' main source for fossil fuels

the green new deal and "electric vehicle" (green energy) mandates are over

the US has withdrawn from the paris climate agreement

the US has withdrawn from the world health organization

reproductiverights.gov is already gone

the US now "only recognizes two genders, male and female"

trans women prisoners are to be housed in male prisons; gender affirming care for prisoners is gone

self-identification for gender on passports, government IDs, and social security cards is gone

all federal employees are required to work in the office five days a week, no more working from home

trump said the US is going to "pursue our manifest destiny into the stars" and plant a US flag on mars

sources on what executive orders were signed: one two three

and lastly, some things that happened during the inauguration:

the pastor who blessed the inauguration during the swearing in ceremony has already announced a new meme coin/cryptocurrency

trump did not put his hand on the bible + there are rumors the pope is going to say trump is the antichrist

the wealthiest people on the planet — the CEOs of twitter/tesla, amazon, google, meta, and even the CEO of tiktok — who own almost all communication platforms used by westerners — stood directly behind trump as he was sworn in

elon musk, the wealthiest person alive, who has been given his own vaguely-defined US government agency, did a nazi salute on stage at the presidential podium. neo-nazis are already celebrating

[orphicmusings]

Omg could you please do some or all of the NSFW alphabet for adrian tepes, i would be extremely grateful 😭😭😭 (if you’ve never heard of it look it up on tumblr and you’ll find the template)

finally got my thoughts together for this

a = aftercare

alucard is incredibly gentle with you afterward, even if you both didn’t get too wild- he is just in a sweet, lovey mood. giving you little kisses everywhere and cleaning you up, then holding you while you fall asleep.

b = body part

alucard loves your hands. he loves holding them in his, intertwining his fingers with yours, trapping them above your head while he sinks into you. he especially loves kissing them, making you fluster at such an innocent gesture while you’re doing something so filthy.

c = cum

i don’t really think he’s one for a breeding kink?? i think he would be terrified at the prospect of having kids. he would be too afraid of crashing out like his father if something happened to you and giving them no choice but to end him and live with the guilt. i did not mean for a prompt about cum to be this depressing

d = dirty secret

we all know how he looks at trevor and sypha. he would only be into if you were into it. that said he would be so into it. watching him be so rough with trevor, so submissive with sypha, and a delicious mix with you. meshing together, exploring each other, cuddling in one big pile after.

e=experience

HE GOT NONE LOL…i do think he is a relatively quick learner though, he’s a very focused and determined person and will learn what makes you tick quick.

f = favorite position

def missionary, holding your hand and looking into your eyes while he fucks you hard and fast or deep and slow, it doesn’t matter so long as he sees your face.

g = goofy

i think i could get a little silly with it, but definitely doesn’t initiate the silly mood during sex. maybe if you’re both a little tipsy, you tripped, your shirt got stuck, etc; he would just look at you and burst into uncontrollable laughter that would give him the giggles all night.

h = hair

doesn’t manscape often given the time period but definitely does…out of sheer boredom at least

i = intimacy

he values it so much, he needs to see you and hear you and feel you. for him, sex isn’t quick fun, it’s connecting, it’s intimacy. it’s literally an act of pouring all his love into you, and he’ll make sure you know that.

j = jack off

he probably has but doesn’t strike me as the type to do it often, he’s very disciplined.

k = kink

PRAISE. he loves hearing you praise him, and he loves the flustered look on your face when he praises you. definitely has a love-biting thing, loves seeing the slight indent of his fangs in your skin. i also think he has a thing for size, being such a tall ethereal being and also having at least a quarter of a predator instinct. like he probably thinks of how small you are compared to him and will short circuit, his brain crowded with the urge to protect you and ravish you in equal measure.

l = location

i do not see this guy getting nasty anywhere but the bed or the couch. he’s definitely old fashioned like that. and he wants to know you’re comfy!

m = motivation

when you run your hands through his hair and tug ever so gently, it’s over. he’s putty in your hands. especially if you praise him in the process.

n = no

i think bondage for obvious reasons, he never wants to feel that feeling again nor does he want you to, so it’s just off the table. he likes biting and playing rough with you, but he will never hurt you. even the slightest frown will get him to snap out of it and check in with you. he could not bring himself to ever hurt you on purpose.

o = oral

oh this man is a giver….like….sinking his fangs softly into your inner thigh and licking up the blood before he goes in LIKE!!! and don’t get me started on when you’re on your period, he’s practically feral, holding your hips down and drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re shaking and can’t go any longer.

p = pace

he can definitely do all, but prefers it deep and slow, he wants to savor everything. he wants to commit your pleasured, flustered, blissed out face to his immortal memory. he wants to make sure he remembers the most divine thing he has ever seen, the most divine thing he’s ever done, if he’s feeling poetic.

q = quickie

he doesn’t like them. like i said, sex is deeply intimate and loving for him and he can’t just fuck one out quickly.

r = risk

i think if you expressed wanting to do something that he wasn’t necessarily opposed to, he’d have an open mind about it and at least try it once.

s = stamina

beast. actual beast. he can control himself, though, and knows you can’t go as many rounds as he could, and he would never push you to. but if you felt like being edged? ohohohoho

t = toys

i don’t think sex toys existed back then…i could be wrong. but even in modern aus i don’t see him using them.

u = unfair

he doesn’t tease you often, but when he’s in a cheeky mood, he’s in a cheeky mood. he definitely can be withholding when he wants to be, and he knows he can stick it out longer than you. will definitely tell you to “ask nicely” and won’t obey until he hears the prettiest pleases.

v = volume

i think he’s fairly low volume, but very breathy. also talkative if he’s in the mood for it. just narrating what he’s doing, how he’s feeling, how he’s making you feel and having you affirm it could bring him to the brink faster. definitely whimpers, though, just tries his hardest to contain it.

w = wild card

reads about sex. like, all the books he can find on it. and will definitely fuck you on the sofa in the library while he asks you to read a passage out loud, whispering how well you’re doing and how good you are for him, all while chuckling as your voice shakes.

x = x ray

well we’ve seen his chest. but his dick is definitely big. not monstrous. but long. definitely a long boy

y = yearning

i think he has a fairly normal sex drive. not too high, not too low. he’s goldilocks :)

z = zzz

doesnt fall asleep until you do. he just wants to make sure you’re okay, and he loves watching how peaceful you look, wrapped up safe in his arms.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, reference to suicide and Lloyd being offensive, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: Thanks for all your patience.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Migraines always leave you a bit foggy. Like a hangover, or even a concussion. You power through the airport, waiting in line with your mustachioed curse. Lloyd taps his toe incessantly, adding to the plethora of overstimulation all around you. This isn’t how you envisioned your holidays.  

It’s the 26th and you’re supposed to be on your way home, not catching the flight you booked for two days before. And alone. You’re supposed to be alone. 

You take your boarding pass and leave Lloyd’s for him to grab himself. He huffs and follows after you. He’s like a big dumb dog sometimes. It’s amazing that the realization only comes over you then. It’s pretty obvious when he’s not behind a desk growling like some mafioso. He’s no kingpin, he’s a clown. 

You drop into a seat, your carry-on beside you, and he claims the seat to your left. He’s on the edge, jiggling his leg. You could thank him for upgrading you both to first class but he’s the reason you’re even there. It’s the least he could do. 

You cross your arms and stare through the haze. The first-class lounge is quiet and softly lit. Isolated but for the pest next to you. He continues to fidget. Is he nervous? You didn’t think that was possible since he seems to lack any degree of self-awareness. 

“So, gimme the down low. You got a mom? Girl like you screams daddy issues. Is he still around?” 

You sigh. “Sure is.” 

“Wow, okay. Good guy? Strict? Shit, knowing you, he must be a hard ass,” he scoffs. “Should I put on my best behaviour? Should I have worn a tie, Pixie pie?” He tugs at the collar of his turtleneck. 

“What you can do is hush,” you retort. “Jesus, I’m tryna get my head together.” 

“Last night was wild,” he agrees, though it’s not the point you were making, nor a statement of fact. “We were so close, Pix. You shoulda just laid back and let the magic hands do their tricks. Promise,” he smooths his mustache, “this isn’t just for show. I’ve been told it adds a lot of sensation--” 

“Ew. Would you—if you even say any of that in front of my family--” 

“You gonna spank me?” He asks brightly and sits back, slinging an arm over the back of your chair. 

“Please. I have to at least make this believable and you’re not making it any easier,” you snarl. 

“Are you serious? Our chemistry is like if Einstein banged a beaker--” 

“Einstein was a physicist--” 

“Science is science, baby. All I know is there’s something here and the sooner you accept it, the harder I’ll-- I mean the easier this will be.” 

You look at him dully. All those years you spent bending over backward for him. Behind the mask, he’s a cretin. You always had a suspicion but he was never your creep to deal with. 

“How do you do that?” He asks. 

You grumble and shake your head, turning your glare to the flat screen across from you. 

“How the hell do you skin a man with your eyes? It’s bone tingling and boner-inducing, but damn, it’s something else,” he shifts in his chair noticeably, “you’re gonna make me fly all the way to Canada at half-mast?” 

“You can book a seat across the plane from me if you’re going to keep on,” you warn him. “I’m really not in the mood. We have a deal. I’ll do my part. Pretend, nothing more, and you’ll keep your hands to yourself and give me my money.” 

“I got it, baby. I’m a businessman,” he turns straight and plants his feet wide. “I make deals every day. You’ll get yours.” 

“I want an advance--” 

“An advance? What the hell do you mean? I paid for first-class. Elite,” he punctuates with his finger. “Advance, my juicy ass.” 

“Ten. In my account. Before take-off.” 

“Pfft, you don’t trust me?” 

“No, I don’t,” you affirm. “More so, you owe me. I defaulted on the refund on the flight you made me miss. Oh, and I didn’t get to see my family. On Christmas.” 

“Jeez, well you don’t seem that happy to,” he accuses. 

“Money, now.” 

“Fine, but I get one titty grab--” 

“You get nothing. Mon-ey.” You rub your fingers together. 

He huffs and leans forward as he takes his phone out. He rolls his eyes and taps around on the screen. He takes a deep breath then pushes down. He shows you the screen. “Go ahead and check. You got your blood money.” 

“This is your idea,” you retort. 

“It is my idea but you’re rejecting all my other ones. Like, you know, a sexy massage with a happy ending...” 

“You’re going to give me another headache.” 

“I’ll take it. At least I make you feel something.” He shrugs. 

You shake your head at nothing and check your phone. You can never be too careful with him. Sharing a room has more than proven that. 

🎁

You put the in-flight earbuds in and resign yourself to the hours ahead of you, trapped in a flying canister, next to this incessant man-child. He really brings out the bitch in you. That irritates you even more. You could do anything before without much thought at all; you just got through but Lloyd makes everything a task. 

You close your eyes as the video babbles on. It’s a new release, but those are all remakes and sequels without any real interest. The altitude does little for the shadow of achiness that lingers in the base of your skull. One wrong move and you’ll reawaken your migraine. 

The steady thrum of air around the plane lulls you in a stupor. Just enough for you to stop caring but not deep enough for sleep. You let your head fall toward the window and sink into the numb daze. 

A small tickle makes you shift. You think nothing of it. It’s so small, it could be nothing. Then the sensation travels down to your knee and back up your thigh. You smack Lloyd’s hand before he can repeat the action. 

“Quit,” you hiss. 

He spreads his hand and curls his fingers into your tender flesh. You squeak and open your eyes, clasping onto his wrist as he needs. It’s as if he pinching your nerves. 

“Ow, oh, stop--” you protest. 

“Come on, baby,” he leans over and winks. “Just let me pet the kitty. It’ll help you relax.” 

“How many times can I tell you the same thing--” 

“Just like a dog, you need to be repetitive. Conditioning or whatever,” he purrs. 

You glance past him at the low wall blocking out your seats from the sight of the other pods in first class. You clutch his two middle fingers and squeeze. You bend them back until he grunts and recoils. 

“You touching me isn’t going to make me relax--” 

“Never know if you don’t try,” he wiggles his brows. 

“Trust me, I know.” 

“I’m sure your family don’t need you in a pissy mood. I’m doing it for them, Pixie.” 

“Can I ask you something?” You narrow your eyes, “does the begging usually work?” 

He snorts. He shakes his head and sits back, raising his palms, “you will be flattered to know I don’t usually beg.” He leans against the seat and rests his head on the cushion. “When I tell a girl to hike her skirt up, she just does it. All of them but you.” He clucks and rolls his eyes. “You know that pretty blond from Pristine? Yeah, whenever she comes around, I got her bent over the desk. Thought you’d catch on, she���s not very quiet.” 

You won’t grace him with an excuse. You don’t need one. You’re usually busy, minding your own business, running his errands. You never cared about his office flings. 

“Maybe you should’ve asked her to meet your family,” you suggest. 

“Kidding me? She never shuts up. I gotta stuff my tie in her mouth. Usually why I turn her around--” 

“Lloyd,” you snap. 

“Jealous?” He smirks and you stare back blankly. “You know what? Gotta admit, you surprised me, Pixie Pie. Always quiet in the office, scurrying around like a little mouse. I figured you’d be good because you’d keep the yapper shut. Turns out, you know how to cut deep.” He pushes his shoulders wide and settles. “Never saw mom like that. Or Lillian. Yeah, that was good. You really got her.” 

He snickers and flutters his fingers menacingly. You yawn and look at the small screen. You don’t know what’s going on in the movie. What you do know is that Lloyd Hansen has more issues than one person can solve and you’re not there for anything but business. This is work. You’re getting your money and you’re moving on. 

🎁

Landing is usually a relief. You’re always happy to be on solid ground but it feels shaky as you walk off with your travel companion. The bounce in Lloyd’s step concerns you. He’s much too eager for this. 

He grabs his bags from the carousel, yours too before you can even approach. He loads them all onto a car and steers it around the airport. He’s whistling as you get through the terminal and head for the front doors. As you step outside, he chatters and stops short. 

“Holy grizzly dick, it’s freezing here,” he puffs a cloud of steam as his nose tints pink. 

“There’s not much more snow here than back in the States.” 

“Nah, it’s fucking frigid. Should’ve known,” he shivers and tucks his chin down. You make note of his snipe but don’t acknowledge it. “You maple drinkers drive on the same side of the road?” You glare at him and he winces as he meets your eyes. You’ve booked him trips to Vancouver several times. “Kidding. Obviously. That whole polite stereotype is bullshit, huh, Pix.” 

You ignore him and hail a cab. You just want to be still. The last few days, you’ve been upended. The long drive, his family, the hotel, then a plane ride on top of it all. You’re ready to just stop. 

He wheels the cart around to the trunk and leaves it to the driver to load. You want to admonish him but you’re over the argument. You know you’re going to need your energy. You get in and he climbs in with you.  

He blows into his hands then rubs his cheek. “Santa dropped a load on this place, huh?” He unzips his coat and reaches under it. He fishes around the inside pocket and slips out a pair of glasses. You furrow your nose. You’ve never seen him wear glasses. 

“Where did you get those?” 

“Hipster boy in coach. Snagged them when I hit the restroom,” he explains and pops them on, leaning against you as he cranes to see his reflection in the rear-view mirror. 

“You stole glasses?” 

“Borrowed,” he insists then turns to you. “What’d ya think? Am I the perfect good boy for mom and pop?” 

“You think glasses are gonna do something?” 

“We talked about this, we gotta be convincing, sweetheart. I gotta be a man that sweet lil Pixie would go for.” He adjusts the glasses. “I read Hemingway and have a degree in Social Justice.” 

“Shut--” you catch yourself and sniff. “I don’t even like Hemingway.” 

“Jane Austen? Really? A romantic?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“I’d say. We have to at least pretend we can stand each other. Not just...” he looks down at his lap, “stand for each other.” 

“Ugh, well, start with cutting out those nasty remarks. Second, try, uh, taking care of...” you gesture over your lip, “this.” 

He blinks and his brows draw together. He touches his upper lip, “my mustache?” His eyes widen behind the lenses. “Um, this is style, honey.” 

You scrunch your lips as you try not to laugh. He really believes that. You shrug as the driver gets in. He crosses his arms. 

“Whatever. Judge me but don’t just the stache,” he snips. “So, you gotta tell me. Favourite book.” 

“Do I?” 

“Well, we’re ‘engaged’ so I think I should know,” he argues. 

You watch through the windshield as the taxi follows the airport traffic to the street, “The Bell Jar. If I have to choose one.” 

“Oooh, Plath. How... depressing. But I knew it, you’re a reader, Pixie. Bet you like to sink into a hot tub and get cozy with a good novel. You get the kinky one, let the hand wander below the surface--” 

You elbow him and he cackles. “Alright, sorry. I just—a man’s used to eating daily.” 

“Maybe a diet will do you well,” you retort. 

“Cheat day will come soon enough,” he says. “I’ll do my best to keep my pants on, just don’t go putting your head in any ovens.” 

“You’re awful,” you exclaim. “That’s awful.” 

“Alright,” he combs his hair back, “gonna be a good boy. Promise.” 

“You can take the glasses off.” 

“I kinda like ‘em,” he grins and pinches the arms. 

You make a face but say nothing. The city passes by and your eyes gloss over the familiar sights. The taxi drops you at the rental place and you pull up the booking. There’s at least an hour before you get outside Toronto, then another to your mom’s place. You take the keys and jingle them at Lloyd. 

“Wanna drive?” You ask. 

“I don’t really know where I’m going,” he says. 

“Right.” 

“Besides, Pixie, you got control issues.” 

“Me?” You scoff. “Sure.” 

“Oh, you do,” he assures you as you cross the lot to the rental. “Once you give in to them, you’ll be a lot happier and I'll be your perfect sub.” 

You pop the trunk and tut as you approach the driver’s side, “get the bags in the car, would ya?” 

[harpieisthecarpie]

looking at how Goro Akechi became a foil of Akira Kurusu thru their childhood (attachment styles)

(Content Warnings for discussing all the stuff in Akechi's childhood specifically, bad parenting, neglect, mental illness. Take care of urselves)

waking up to the tags @1derpu2 added on another post of mine about Akechi ("#I don't think I could survive in his position") had me thinking of a 15-16 year old Akechi, and how survival even feels to him.

Because arguably Akechi has been in survival mode since he was born. Even with a mother doing her best to provide, poverty fundamentally rewrites the brain especially at such a young age−

(Tangent: Akechi's dessert blog actually reminds me of Brennan Lee Mulligan during the d20 Misfits & Magic actual play discussing his character [Evan Kelmp, an unhoused orphaned kid] ordering from desserts at restaurants in order to maximize caloric intake for his money bc stuff on the dessert menu actually tends to contain the most calories– ANYWAYS)

–and he also can feel the underlying tension in how his mother is treated, how he himself is treated, how there is no support network for them. I can imagine that's part of the lure of an ensemble kid's show like Featherman: reliable companions who take your hand rather than slapping it away.

I've done a lot of reading into attachment styles and attachment trauma (bc it's interesting and also haha ;] trauma) and it is a really cool lens to view the differences between our two Wild Cards Akechi and Akira.

adding a reblog with an attachment theory rundown! actual discussion of akechu attachment stuff below cut

There is no better fit for Akechi than a Disorganized Attachment style after finding his sole caregiver and financial (his mother) dead by her own hand after years of her focus being split by the work she needed to do for them to afford survival, before being passed around by distant relatives who viewed him with contempt, if they acknowledged him at all.

The world treated him and his mother like vermin, so of course no one else is trustworthy, of course the people who take advantage are evil. Of course everyone takes advantage. Just like his father, who is the root of this whole horrible thing (the thing being Goro's life, the thing being Goro)

His mother left him violently, voluntarily (from his pov, suicide & mental illness are complicated), so he must be someone repulsive. Incapable of being loved. If he wants others to love him, and he must in order to get close enough to his father to kill, then he must be anything other than himself.

One of the symptoms of disorganized attachment and attachment trauma is the inability to regulate emotions, leading those with it to feel things with an intensity they can't control, soothe, or explain that can fluctuate between emotions rapidly.

And doesn't that markedly fit with a kid who has awoken such disparate personas that are both him? His entire relationship with the world (there must be justice but there is no such thing as justice) and his inner psyche does explain why he brings up Hegel. If you have both Loki and Robin Hood inside you, thesis and antithesis, then isn't it a comfort to know their existence somehow makes sense? That you are synthesis rather than just chaos and pain.

Meanwhile, from the little we hear about Akira's parents and how Persona 5 frames the adults around him, the Avoidant attachment style fits best. He is fiercely independent, with such a strong sense of identity despite with the masks he wears for others that he has the true Wild Card ability. He stands his ground with his morals, even when everyone around him is telling him his life would be easier if he gave up.

He has a strong internal moral center because he was never attached enough to his caregivers that they'd be able to influence his cognitive assimilation. Why trust someone's moral judgment when you can't even trust them with your vulnerability?

This is why Akira and Akechi are so fascinating as foils, as rivals, and as people who know each other better than anyone else could. Akechi walks around as a fake, appealing version of himself that Akira sees through clearly. And Akira likes the bitter, vicious, angry version of Akechi because it's honest. That is the underlying intensity of people he knows is hidden behind the masks adults are convinced are their faces. (Where's your rage? RISE RISE RISE)

Akira and Akechi match so well not because they have a hidden ugliness, but because they view the pleasant masks people wear to excuse or ignore injustice as what are truly ugly. And their difference lies in Akira's belief that there is good in people while Akechi's upbringing has him convinced that humanity is rotten to its roots.

And Akechi wants Akira's beating, caring heart between his teeth because there is still a lonely little child in his own chest who loves Featherman and just wanted a better life for his mom. And who won't fucking die, no matter how Akechi tears the world apart to match his perception of it.

Akechi has spent years trying to kill his heart, which has done nothing but soaked his masks in his own blood.

Akira looks Akechi in the eyes, straight through those masks, and steals his heart from off the chopping block. And he keeps it close even as Akechi turns the blade on him in a rage borne of fear.

They're gay as hell thanks for coming to my ted talk. might improve after work

[maryellencarter]

"and play a lot of video games" you know, I watch some video game Youtubers who are full-time streamers or video makers, that's how they make their living. Something that strikes me about the ones I watch is how welcoming they are to newbies who'd like to do what they do -- speedrunning, or bingo races, or challenge running or what have you. This is skewed, of course, because I'm generally looking for people who *are* like that, but it's still... they'd love to have more people involved, a bigger community of players doing what they love.

And I always think about, well, what if we could all do what we love without having to sell our souls to pay the bills? Because that's what UBI is about. What if people *could* sit around playing video games all day? We can see right now what that would be like, on a small scale, and the answer is "they'd put absurd amounts of effort in".

Take just one example. Breath of the Wild is famous for how fast it can be speedrun. The top BotW runner in the world, one Player5, streams five days a week, often for more than eight hours a day -- practicing frame-perfect inputs with the dedication of a professional piano player doing scales, testing out new strategies to see if they're consistent enough to use, and repeating the same runs over and over to shave off seconds. All while chatting with his viewers and making videos on how to do the glitches and run routes he shows off.

He recently became the first person to hold every main category of BotW world record at the same time, from any% (well under half an hour) to 100% (almost 15 hours). People will become experts at *anything* if you give them the freedom to do so. Dismissing a category of Things People Do as worthless or "lazy" says a lot more about the self-righteous asshats doing the dismissing than it does about the people who do that thing.

Of course, if we had UBI, not everyone who'd play video games all day would become a top speedrunner. But Player5 got into speedrunning in 2020, because the lockdown gave him the free time to try it out. If we all had the time and freedom to get into things that wouldn't necessarily make us money, we'd find out we had talents we've never even considered, or maybe we'd get to exercise talents we've stifled because we can't live off them. It would be a more artistic, more exploratory world.

My least favorite things about anti- UBI discourse is always the techbros whining that "nobody is going to work anymore! People will just watch Netflix all day!" and I have 2 responses:

1) Who the fuck cares. Who the fuck cares what people do with their time! That's kind of the fucking point!

2) People aren't going to stop laboring. Housework (look, it's right there in the word!) will still need to be done. So will maintenance on our homes and personal spaces. Children will still need carers, as will the elderly and disabled. There are millions of examples of ~work~ that we do all the time, uncompensated, that won't suddenly stop because we aren't forced to sell our labor to provide corporation's profits.

I'm not surprised that what is traditionally women's work is invisible to these dipshits, but it never fails to anger me.

Anyway. Join the IWW.

[my-cat-ate-your-appendix]

A few theories floating around in my head that aren't based on anything, just me wildly speculating possibilities (and when I saw wild, I really mean it):

1) That book and that key

As was pointed out by user goodbye432, we can see that Violet's key comes out of the book, but this key still remains.

I feel like this could be a gateway key that helps all the keys find each other? Or it could be the book that acts as a gateway. Or maybe both of them as a combination act as a gateway?

Point is, that key definitely isn't a key that gathers narratonin

It doesn't have the narratonin compartment that all the other keys have

The whole structure is different, actually.

So it's probably not a key that was in the original story-key roster. Maybe it was created after the other keys to help them find each other better? Maybe Nox himself created this key while he was still a human? Maybe Nox created this key after he became a key? Maybe Nox didn't have anything to do with it at all? Maybe it was accidentally made by a cat named Prunella?

Personally, I don't think that key is sentient (like, I don't think it has a tiny goober form like the other keys), either, but that really has no basis at all. It very well could.

2) Are the stories themselves sentient?

The story just wants to be enjoyed, the story just wants to be finished, the story doesn't want to be destroyed. The story's sounding an awful lot like a sentient creature right now.

We know that the keys don't decide anything about the story, and nor do the holders of the keys. So who decides when the story ends? Who decides the amount of enjoyment (and therefore the amount of narratonin) received from the story? My bet's on the story itself.

I don't think this is going to have much relevance in the actual plot, but it was just interesting to think about.

3) Silver is in on it

Silver knows something. This has such major foreshadowing with this particular panel:

and then the scene immediately cuts to Silver

Suspicious. Also, so far, Silver's key is the only key that was left around with a note. Bronze and Goldie were literally on sale in a flea market. Silver's key, on the other hand, was left in the library, very clearly intentionally. It was meant to be found, just not by Chase.

And why was Silver broken? What happened? Did she just like, fall? I don't think so.

This is not necessarily a bad thing, since we all know that Silver adores Chase as well as her family and would never agree to endanger them again. Maybe she escaped and was supposed to help the other keys escape too? Maybe she was supposed to help Nox escape? Maybe she did help some of the keys escape, but not the others? Maybe she's part of the FBI? Who knows? Not me, that's who.

4) What's up with Ex Libris anyway?

So far, we've been hearing of Ex Libris as this kind of Big Bad Organisation, but we've never actually seen them make a move? I think it's clear now that Nox wasn't working for the Ex Libris, but rather for his own motives, so it isn't as if the Ex Libris sent him either.

So does the Ex Libris just like, not know that half of it's keys are missing and another key is trying to turn human? Or does it know and is deciding to not do anything about it?

Or does it know and can't do anything about it? What if the Ex Libris has been disbanded, and the keys just don't know about it? That's not quite feasible, I know, considering that Violet and Buddy are probably in the Ex Libris facility right now but that's just our assumption, y'know? They might be in hiding. I'm pretty sure Ex Libris wouldn't want Buddy turning back into a human, so they're definitely going behind Ex Libris' back to do what they're doing, so why can't they be in hiding? Why can't they be totally unaware of what's going on in Ex Libris?

Or maybe the Ex Libris isn't evil at all? They seem more like a bunch of sleep-deprived scientists making one mad discovery after another. If I'm right about the artificial key Buddy theory (see this post) then I admit that would make them more evil, but maybe they're aware of that. Maybe they know that what they did was wrong, and regret it. Maybe all the unethical experimentation was done by a far, far older batch of the Ex Libris, and the new generation of the Ex Libris is strictly vegan and on the keys' side. Maybe they're choosing to help by ignoring. Maybe there's a helper on the inside. Maybe it's Chase's dance partner who never shows up to practices.

Maybe he never shows up to practices because he's too busy trying to save the keys from the Ex Libris. Poor guy.

5) Chase's friends

Yeah, they're definitely not just there to show us that hey! Chase actually has friends his own age! It just doesn't line up.

Maybe one of them's going to coincidentally show up in the same book as Chase and Nox some other time, and Nox is just going to stare at Chase and Chase will be like "Dude I swear I had absolutely no idea this time."

I just think that would be funny.

That's all I can think of right now. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk, I'll be disappearing off of the face of Earth now.

(On a totally unrelated note, a few months ago, my school counsellor told me I should test for ADHD)

[cthulhus-curse]

You ever think about Wanda (or Nat, or both.... save me I love them both) and their hyperfixation on somnophilia. I think that's such a trust based kink that would drive them so wild, to know that their baby trusts them so much to be used like that in such a vulnerable way.... Do you see the vision.....

As someone who has tried somno, it’s such a vulnerable thing to partake in and I totally agree with you

Both would definitely be into it, but it would be much more therapeutic in a way for Natasha. She has never been able to have control over her life, much less her body. The Red Room took that autonomy away. Somno would help her get that back whether it be while receiving or giving.

While giving, Natasha is so incredibly tender with her baby. She wakes you up by giving you oral. So sweet, so soft. She never, ever dares make it uncomfortable, and once you stir awake, Natasha doesn’t fail to ask if you are still comfortable with it — even after having discussed it in-depth prior to falling asleep.

But receiving? She would love it. At first Natasha only wanted to try and see if she’d enjoy it, but then she fell in love with the idea. To trust in someone so much to let you touch her during such a vulnerable position. Natasha would not cry tears of anguish, but instead joy afterwards. The emotion she feels after having given you the reins is immense, and the aftercare pretty much lasts the entire day.

[iceclew]

at this point I am holding on so much to you guys.. Sorry, this has to become a melancholic post, i just had two very shitty days - mental-wise... (like a lot of plp had, ig)

i've been tagged three times to this and this is smth that mends my heart and pain so much rn, you guys make me laugh when nothing else does. You paint my days colourful, when my mind is turning dark again... I am so ultimately lucky to be where I am and to have all these people around me (local and online). Thank's for that. To all of you.

I don't care about where you from, what you are, what you want to be, plp whatever floats your boat, do it. As long as we respect each others boundaries and consent, do it. <3

Maybe this all is a bit cryptic, but here we go anyway..

@mechazushi instant retag. no seconds thoughts on that. BESTIE, the love on first sight, the impact you have on me, for fcks sake! However you manage to keep up with all my weird, I don't know, but I am so ultimatelly thankful for it <3 you spark all of that inspiration in me, and I adore seeing you killing it on that writing of yours everytime, I am so in love with watching you thrive, I will cheer for you, gurl, forever and ever <3

@oxandthorn I know this might be weird, but you kinda are responsible for me growing a backbone out here on the wilds of tumblr. :D you're work and words sparked a lot in me and made me overcome a lot of my doubts, even if I never told you. You are amazing and your stuff is too, and I wish you nothing but the best in life <3

@terra-sketches not just that your art is amazing, you seem like such a strong person to me <3 And I love that a lot and I want you to keep up that spirit of yours. Your amazing doodles light up my days so much sakhddkjfhefhoas Kaiju fandom would not be the same without you for me :)

dkshfdfbeusasjd my ability to write decent words drops rapidly, I can feel it, so sorry but I have to sum up and shorten things here a bit.

the gang of the kaiju fandom on tumblr and/or discord plp who I always love to hear/read from, when new chapters or amazing fanart drop. @sonicasura @kujoestars @izfaish @bayleavesfromthevine @maypl-syrup @nightfal1n @iizuumi @ashiraismyname @kafkahibinomybeloved @ratita-ratata @loveanimekn8 @iamdesibell @bluevelvetea @alexankeegk

All of you guys help me see so many new things and brighten my days so much, I can't thank you enough for that. <3

So sorry, if I forgot anyone...and I am sure I did, I always kinda do... Also this goes out to all of the lurkers, and followers and likers and tumblr in general. LOVE YOU *smooch* :3

positivity train!

if you see this or are tagged in it, tag a couple of your favorite mutuals/blogs and let them know you appreciate seeing them on your dash!

@h0neysugarfree @blueberrylovv @bequiteanddriveeeeeee @cherri-bomb-bomb @eg0mechan1c @fatrexicisback

[shorthaltsjester]

obsessed with the fact that bell's hells won that fight explicitly because of their reliance on the gods. imogen and laudna both vocally saying 'thank you matron' at the beginnings of that combat as they use new skills or spells they've refreshed, orym wielding his sword, braius wielding his divine power, the entire party instilled with a hero's feast prepared by a cleric of the wildmother, imogen using power granted by the arch heart to bring down predathos -- an entity that has been described as welcoming her home, offering a womb she has longed to return to, her as its kin -- in imagery evoking the moment where the gods too decided to turn their backs on their home when faced with the monstrosity they were tied to, that they'd help bring about (something something, the arch heart gave mortals magic and imogen gave predathos its vessel). and the fact that bell's hells has slowly grown more reliant on the idea that predathos does not hunger for mortals -- something they in fact scoffed at when it came from liliana and ludinus' mouths -- predathos took several of them in his maw and tried to consume them.

viewing the story as one of a group of people predominantly blinded to the reality of their situations by the fog of their traumatized feelings -- as i've chosen to do for the sake of my sanity listening to them go on and on about gods that never gave them a lick in the same breath that they complain that the gods have too much power -- it is so extremely poetic that orym cut down ludinus with a sword blessed by the wild mother only for bell's hells to retread the path ludinus set up for himself. it is extremely ironic for a group of people who have implicitly raised complaints about the inherent manipulation that comes with the god's existence to come up with a plan that is explicit manipulation, demanding the gods become mortal or die [which to be clear, extremely interesting plan with interesting consequences that would be compelling to see! absolutely dogshit reasoning skills and moral assessment. but it is continually ASTOUNDING to me that a campaign that gets treated by some as the height of critical role's sociopolitical philosophical exploration features so many PCs who struggle (and not in the fruitful, developmental way but in the head-in-hands, can this student talk to the prof during office hours so I don't have to feel the second hand embarrassment of them making it obvious they haven't ever attended a previous lecture or done the class readings way) with ideas found in any first year philosophy course].

and to be clear this is not me devaluing the role of bell's hells in actually fighting the fight -- but all they've done is the same thing the gods were already doing, keeping predathos sealed, except now its in a volatile-at-best mortal who is on borrowed time re: being lost once again to its power. the only suggestion the hells have that this might be a justified and right course of action is the support of two gods -- one who has proven themself to be okay with the idea of death until it actually arrives before and the other one who is the only being on record who actually chose to be a deity -- out of a much larger pantheon, and their personal inclinations to agree with the ideology of a man who they have claimed to ardently disagree with but it turns out that was just because of his methods, I guess. scattershotting catalysts for change and hoping that change results in a Better World just. on its own (almost like. idk. fate) that you haven't even suggested practical (I'd even take theoretical ones atp) methods to achieve beyond Get Rid of a bunch of beings who are involved in actually extreme amounts of metaphysical and magical infrastructure isn't actually a course of action, its a course of chaos, and that is in fact worse than things staying the way they are if 'the way things are' that you keep referring to has only been shown to, currently, be that you and your friends feel sad and a little miffed that the gods you haven't offered anything to are only willing to do things for you when you serve them. unlike you, a group notorious for the way you do things for people you don't know without asking anything in return (this is sarcasm, if that wasn't clear).

anyway, I will continue to be frustrated by the lack of grounding for either (a) bell's hells having actually incisive and contextualized criticisms of the gods (either their own or from the actual mouths of the 'little guys' they are allegedly fighting for) or (b) more engagement with the fact that bell's hells as a party are not interested in making the morally right choice, they are at Best looking for a morally neutral choice. that said, if I ignore the actual story c3 has portrayed, the last few episodes have been a great wrap-up to a story about how singleminded trauma can make you and how that can lead you to place where there's no longer any Good choices to make, only potentially satisfying ones, where the question of who to satisfy takes the reigns over what is best.

[bitdemonic]

⋆.˚𝕭𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝕱𝐈𝐋𝐄:˖ . ݁𝜗☠︎︎𝜚. ݁₊𝕻𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐀 𝕬𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐏 𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄. 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐔𝐏, 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒. 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘.

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𓆩ψ𓆪 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐒]

↓

𝐁𝐈𝐎

Born July 1st, 1967, Pamela Anderson is a Cancer Sun, Aries Moon, Gemini Rising native (57 years of age). Her planet dominants include being Venusian, Mercurial, and Uranian ruled, a sum of how wild and untamed her celebrity became under the spotlight. Coined the blonde bombshell of the 90s, Pamela's impact is prominent in areas related to fashion and makeup, as her signature looks are referenced heavily today.

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ⟶ 10 OF CUPS RX

Definition: Unhappiness, feelings of loneliness and disharmony in emotional aspects of life (relationships, home, personal). In terms of appearance, this is someone who's pain is evident; suffering is a part of their day to day living, ultimately their legacy or public image. Pamela's beauty had been bullied and misjudged, something she's felt since childhood [as told her memoir]—10oC can be the details of her distinct features, but it's very heavily connected to her past wounds.

Interpretations

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 This card makes sense to me, because Pamela's upbringing was both tumultuous and traumatic, eventually leading her to modeling as an escape. Spotted on the jumbotron of her hometown's stadium led to being scouted by Playboy, otherwise her first taste of freedom (liberation). During this era, she'd made the decision to dye her once brunette hair to platinum blonde [which is told by the number 10, her whole identity changed with the color].

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 "Bad girl", heartbreaker kind of beauty; barbed wire tattoo, fuller breasts/lips, and the classic Pam Anderson updo. I'll even connect the Cups to how voluminous and soft her hair looked; it reminds me of having golden ringlets lol. These features emulate the energy of what this card indicates as far as romance and relationships—despite being in "love", she looked the part of being hard to tie down. Goes hand in hand with her overall appearance being in tune to match her partner's, she'd emulate their vibe as far as being a couple [even when unhappy].

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Less is more would be the underlying definition of this card, which can be applied to Pamela's thin brows, petite frame, and tighter fit clothing—she found this to be who she was, internally and externally, but could've been judged for "breaking the mold" (i.e. norm). Considering that she just recently started exploring more with her appearance, it's safe to say that she probably never thought to step outside this comfort zone.

I'll even go so far as to say that 10oC ↺ is the ridicule and hate she was prone to receive going on live television or radio shows, it's adding onto the fact that she felt like she couldn't do/be anything right under the spotlight. Holding up appearances and feeling distress are a part of its themes, she felt humiliation all the time and felt she couldn't stop it. Defending herself was frequent back then, which inevitably led to public outbursts and meltdowns out of exhaustion (I feel for her so much man).

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Want to connect the card's imagery to the oceanlike solemness of her eyes, they've cried many tears and evidently hold lots of secrets (essentially, she's been through a lot and more often than not you can tell how much). In certain pictures her eyes are widened, almost surprised to be hurt, or sad. Could be her eye color in general, just because they're almost* the same shade. Thinking that her eyes are her best/favorite feature because of the depth they hold; definitely a profound stare that touches everyone with their stories.

Bonus: Big pointer to her current decision to abstain from wearing heavier makeup in public. In reverse, it's basically the catalyst to Pam outgrowing how she used to present herself, now opting for a more comfortable essence opposed to what we're used to. Public opinion could wane, but the whole point of 10oC is having emotional fulfillment made from emotional decisions; she did this for her, nobody else.

𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐔𝐏 ⟶ THE HANGED MAN RX

Definition: Indecisiveness, remaining stagnant, nothing different about a challenging obstacle, circumstance, or situation. With this card, we're able to understand the lasting impact and influence of Pamela's signature look; thinly arched brows, heavily smoked out shadow, glossy finished pigmented lips were a key component to her sultry glam appeal. Each step was perceived as unlocking our inner femme fatale, so much that even today her 90s era is practiced for wear.

Interpretations

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Feelings of being trapped [or "held at her will"], may've felt that she couldn't break free of an image, or like she was always going to be seen one specific way (e.g. being trashy). The Hanged Man ↺ is responsible for staying in the same place because you're actively choosing to ignore discernment (intuition); she was likely to accept the hatred and belittlement, before realizing her voice mattered most.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 It wouldn't be surprising if Pamela was quite stubborn about the way her makeup was supposed to be done, considering resistance and blockages are prevalent—either she had the formula down pact, or she's kept the same makeup artists(s) for majority of her career. The Hanged Man ↺ is also an indicator for deep colors and winged liner around her eyes but done in a precise manner (none of her makeup is out of place, smudged, or over excessive), lots of focus around her head/face area in general.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Neptune is the ruler of this card (illusions, fantasies, things that aren't "there") which speaks to Pamela's beauty having influence over the masses, both makeup and sex appeal. I wouldn't say this is a good thing, because we've been eyewitness to the harassment (misogyny) she's been subject to, it's a telltale sign that she wasn't seen as a person let alone worthy of respect (Hanged Man hanging upside down by the foot). On the other end however, this speaks for her makeup technique still being on trend despite when it first originated—timeless energy, even after our generation grows old.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Indication for the use of contour/bronzer to emphasize the structure of her cheekbone area, using enough that her face gave off the impression of being snatched. Intimidatingly daunting sometimes, she likely challenged her haters or men for the power she evoked. Her step by step could actually be quite simple, otherwise not needing many products or directions to execute it; Hanged Man ↺ showing that she's the original that others use for inspiration.

More often than not, her beauty and makeup were perceived well before her actual outfit (albeit cute). Her glam could've been a standalone in the 90s (i.e. no one else was wearing it) and it gained lots of attention or publicity. "Traction" is being channeled, which is alluding to Pam's makeup in/for "Barb Wire" earning lots of popularity for its allure (she definitely started a new wave lol).

𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍 ⟶ THE STAR

Definition: Inspiration, happiness, spotlight or limelight, renewal (transformation/rebirth). The Star is our indication of Pamela's inner happiness spilling out into her appearance, something that she's prone to do and go all out in when she's at her best. Her clothing pieces and outfit choices set the stage to her personality [which makes sense seeing that she's Leo Venus; the Sun is its ruler and is our outlook on the world].

Interpretations

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 One thing I noticed about Pam's choice of fashion is that she typically stays comfortable no matter what she has on. She doesn't necessarily have a specific aesthetic, more so clothes that mesh well with the vibrant aura she withholds; the Star is ruled by Aquarius, the sign of originality and innovation, and she's been prone to stand out for clothes that accentuate her "vibe" [and current era]. Indicator of being capable of pulling off anything or wearing something without letting it 'wear' her.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 The Star can represent self or the essence of who you are at the core (like stars, constellations that burn off their presence in the sky), which translates into Pamela's femininity being a key to how she brought an outfit to life. In many of her pieces worn onstage or on the carpet, Pamela had a way of bringing attention to how daring she was as a celebrity [early 90s - 2000s]. More than anything this is shown in her profile of photoshoots and model campaigns; she's quite literally a star on any cover, she's effortlessly photogenic [which is another indication of this card]. Makes sense she's still dominating the camera in her mid-fifties—she'll never lose the potential to turn heads.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Not the biggest staple in terms of what makes her stand out, but I wanted to mention that I noticed Pam has an affinity with wearing pitch black (or dark) shades depending on her choice of dress. I feel like they add to the mystique she carries and if anything, the sunglasses emulate the side of herself that she's taken back from the public [after having her boundaries constantly overstepped]. The Star is something/someone that can't go without some kind of notoriety or attention, to me Pam's fashion has transcended past negativity and bullying, I feel as if you can see her today and know that things are much different than earlier in her fame. Glasses remind me of being a girlboss, and this card confirms that she's respected for it.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 This was a download as well as an observation, but Pamela would often match her style to the aesthetic of her partners; most famous would obviously be her flame with Tommy Lee (no free promo for a weirdo). Considering the Star speaks about the renewal after a difficult time and most of Pam's iconic moments are shared with him, it's safe to suggest that her fashion is connected (remembered) alongside their relationship. It may've been a larger influence on the masses more specifically during that era, not nostalgia, but a capsule to that transformative time period. Not to mention that Tommy was ultimately her breaking point—her first awakening was likely after their invasion of privacy.

Bonus: Couldn't resist inserting a few example pics of what I meant when I said she's working the camera and extremely well for her age. Mini prediction, but I wouldn't be surprised to see her on different types of magazines and runways after more recognition for "The Last Showgirl", she's going to be a goldmine in terms of bringing back certain pieces ("last minute touches") to modern day magazines ("prints"). She's entering a new season for sure, I believe she'll make every second or step count. Channeling the word untouchable.

𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ⟶ 6 OF PENTACLES RX

Definition: Lack of generosity or charity, pettiness, abuse of authority over those with none, strings attached, undervalued. Ironically, Pamela's hand in pop culture wasn't properly recognized up until recently (past decade) and it's due to society devaluing her worth in light of scandals and modeling. This card would be representative of her quote unquote disappearance from the spotlight albeit her valid reasons why.

Interpretations

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Downplaying Pamela's popularization of the TV show "Baywatch" is something that's argued a lot for being so "controversial" (or unlikely), when the truth is that introducing her character CJ Parker quite literally boosted the ratings; classic red bathing suit, emerging from the water in that* scene, and overall being a beautiful girl with a personality to match, CJ cemented the show as an American television staple. This role alone surged Pamela into sex symbol status [albeit not a good thing], her credibility and name were on the verge of being taken seriously.

6oP in ↺ drives home the point I brought up earlier, how Pamela's acting career didn't take off due to how the public sexualized her own freewill. The number six in tarot correlates to adjustment, sympathy, and comfort which are interpreted in a negative [or challenging] sense due to the card's position—a reversal in this context indicates Pamela's presence shifting the world's view onto the wrong things. Instead of viewing CJ from the storyline's perspective, society chose to sculpt her into another sexual caricature from Pam's past (Playboy), in turn pivoting her starlight into an unwanted direction.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 "Barb Wire" was another form of media in which Pamela's most iconic moments (looks) can be found, but with the 6oP in ↺ it wasn't seen as such during the time of filming; might be a stretch but I feel like this card can indicate going back in time, considering the number six is connected to themes of recovery and pentacles are physical/time related, Pam's significance wasn't properly recognized up until the latter half of her acting career (i.e. ignoring her relevance during filming, 1996). I suggest all this because back then Pamela had already faced backlash and disrespect over the leak of private property, hence connected to why the movie tanked.

I'm snowballing this observation, but I did read that onset she had basically been non-prioritized and treated like a prop. Directors were watching her home tape before she arrived, her boundaries were borderline overstepped, and all in all she'd won "Worst New Star" at the Razzie Awards (nominated six times). This card is apparently the definition for why Pamela was constantly dragged for participating (exchange, 6oP) in a project versus applauded for what she did right. The film wasn't Oscar worthy, but other factors that deserved recognition didn't happen due to harsh criticism; costume design and makeup department deserved praise, as well as Pam's dedication to the premiere [and job overall], but alas.

ཐིཋྀ It's kinda difficult to get an actual grasp on this card and Pamela's influence in a positive sense, but I feel as if that's the reality of her situation—public attention wasn't a friend, so for the longest she had the short end of the stick, even apart from how she shifted her chosen industry/career projects. Ultimately time was a reward (fast forward to the way she's currently flourishing), but much of her time as a celebrity was shroud in disdain. To be honest I'm even channeling that she's behind a few trends [from today or back then] and we just don't know anything about it; not that she's erased, but Pam's significance is a lot more profound than we've been told.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Not going into great detail, but 6oP in ↺ is definitely connected to the loss of millions from Pam and Tommy's privacy; a lot of struggle and hardship went into lawsuits at their expense, they practically went to war for their personal life (which was bullshit). Pamela doesn't revisit that point in time rarely at all, but whenever the topic arises, her first response is that she didn't receive/earn "a single red cent" from the invasion. I tried to dodge discussing that considering it's trauma and old wounds (news), but this card drives home the fact that she was barely considered and acknowledged with respect, nonhuman and only an object of desire at the worst times.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐑𝐀 ⟶ KNIGHT OF CUPS

Definition: Offering of peace, restoring faith and happiness, taking action (following your heart), vulnerability (empathy). Pamela's "comeback" has been one that is apparently made with love and appreciation for self, for her fulfillment with life as her own person [and not who she was painted out to be]. Knight of Cups is the beauty behind each step and thought she makes; we're witnessing a rebirth and its testimony.

Interpretations

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Knight of Cups coming out for this era of her life honestly made me smile, it's because this confirms her contentment with all opportunities that present themselves. Her mindset [and perspective] on the world around her is renewed; her outlook, perspective, and ideal view have been aligned to match her beliefs (i.e. happiness is key). I also feel like this is being presented as her wardrobe or color palette—creams, light pinks, baby blues, florals, etc. Cups are emotional, lightweight (with context), and essentially carefree, this card is Pamela's outer expression in a brighter light and on a higher frequency.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 I keep being brought to the fact that her new movie is out and in theatres ("The Last Showgirl"), so I can only assume that this project is monumental, or really profound, to Pamela's growth in all things she invests in emotionally. Work, relationships, interests and hobbies, etc. Focus may be locked into those areas for quite some time and it's simply because she's appreciative of the bond she's made with them—connections are of the utmost importance, hence the movie earning a spot in her heart. She's going to be singing praises about the things she's learned onset, how they've helped her understand womanhood ("femininity"), and what it means for her future as an actress, mother, or individual. This energy is really promising and sweet, she's meant to find herself in new experiences and people.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Could indicate a new partner? Or someone from the past that she'll let back into her life, might be open to giving out second chances (feeling old co-worker director vibes, work is related). She's definitely in an era where forgiveness is allowed, I'm honestly picking up on an old connection being resuscitated and for the better; it doesn't have to be romantic, but more so a close friend (before or after reconciliation). This can also be consideration for herself hence the bullet points before; incorporating more affirmations or enlightening ways of thinking to further propel the spiritual journey she's embarked on [or "will embark on"].

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮 Not channeling much as far as her current era goes and part of it is making me think it's because she's still exploring. Knights in tarot represent an individual [typically between 20s - 30s] that're using resources and their own knowledge to elevate into a King/Queen. Essentially, the energy these cards bring are understudy willing to take more classes or learn under a mentor (depending on the suit ofc); in this case, Pamela is extending herself into an area of career that makes her feel worthy of accepting love as herself. As I said, she's doing so much on her own and for her own happiness, she's proving to herself [and herself only] that she doesn't need to rely on anyone that doesn't understand her most intimate parts (self). Spiritually and emotionally inclined time that we're seeing, it'll propel her into another side of life that she had to discover through healing. Love that so much for her lol.

© 2025 BITDEMONIC

[shawtylex09]

First time writing, forgive me if any of this is silly.~•*

New girl ~ Izuku Midoriya x f!reader .~•*

Izuku really had no idea what to think when he first saw you. You were different looking, not in a bad way! But you weren’t Japanese, and it was obvious.

Your demeanor, looks, the way you dressed when you were in the dorms with the rest of the class- it was just so…different.

He was a bit too shy to approach you, which made sense for the boy. It’s not like he couldn’t make friends- no that wasn’t the problem. He’d just never seen anyone of your nationality in person.

He wondered what your country was like, what you were like. From what he’d observed, you were loud and straightforward. You didn’t beat around the bush and were hard working.

Izuku was necessarily obsessed but he did tend to doodle you in his notebook, then silently cringing how pathetic he felt. He was very critical of himself, and wondered how you’d feel about him taking notes over you like you were some lecture.

At one point, you’d walked passed his desk, stopping once you saw the page. It had a drawing of you, with your chin in your palm and your hair cascading down and framing your face beautifully.

“Woah! That’s pretty good,” You commented as you peeped over his shoulder. Poor Izuku wasn’t expecting the suddenness of your presence, and slammed his notebook closed.

“Ohmygosh-“ He squeaked out with rosy red cheeks, his body stiff like he’d been caught doing something scandalous. You however, found his tense demeanor endearing.

You waved him off “meh, don’ worry ‘bout it,” you assured with a warm grin “‘ts not a problem, really. I think you captured my eyes really well.”

Izuku was stunned by hearing your accent. It was so warm and made heat creep up to his ears. He smiled a little and tucked his hair behind his ear, his wild curls shaping his face.

“You think so?” He asked sheepishly, to which you nodded and reached into your bag. You grabbed a black book with stickers on both the front and back, flipping it open.

“Yeah, it looks awesome. It’s cool to see someone else who likes art in class,” you said with a smile, feeling slight excitement bubble up. You placed your own sketchbook on his desk.

Izuku gasped as he looked down at your art. You had several drawings of characters from your favorite anime on the page in pencil. He practically lit up “you watch anime too!? That’s so cool! You really captured the features well! I love the freckles-“

He suddenly paused and blushed “ah-sorry-“ he said as he scratched the back of his neck, pulling his nose from your sketchbook. You simply smiled, “don’ apologize” you chuckled a little and pulled a chair up to his desk.

“Do you have more art in that sketchbook?” You asked. Little did you know, Izuku was more than ready to start gushing over the art he had in his book and the anime he liked.

He was a bit hesitant before he got to know you, but he soon realized-

-He was in deep with this new girl, he just knew it.

Hiyaaaa! Thanks for reading, I’ve never posted on tumblr before, but I like to write and figured this would be a good start. We love needy Izuku 💚

[improbcat]

You are basing all this on a deeply flawed premise. Which side someone is on in their fantasy does not inherently change whether they want it to be a fantasy or not. People fantasizing about being the aggressor does not make them more likely to want to commit the act for real.

Also as someone in the BDSM community, trying to draw a line between rape fantasy play and CNC is beyond absurd. That is literally the stuff the concept of CNC is meant to entail. All rape fantasy play is CNC (not all CNC is rape fantasy though as it encompasses other things as well). The thing that makes rape fantasy play fantasy play is Consent. The thing that makes CNC play not rape/assault is Consent. The consent is always the key and it being "forced" sex doesn't make the consent less valid or relevant than a "forced" spanking. You are using a community you are not part of and do not understand to create a false argument to justify your disgust.

This is important to me because I have rape fantasies in which I have inhabited both roles and have engaged in rape play in both roles. The idea that once I am playing one role I am now dangerous is exactly why the stats above are so skewed. Someone's fantasies are completely useless as a predictor of what they want to do outside said fantasies.

I fucking love sitting down with someone and discussing limits, safewords, desires, etc. and defining the bounds of the space were going to inhabit such that both of us are free to go wild within it. But that has never created a desire to go beyond those defined limits, or do the same thing to someone else without the consent discussion. Nor has it made me ok with someone go beyond my limits nor has it made me cool with a different person do those things to me without consent.

Because (and I am going to be aggressive here) I ONLY LIKE DOING THINGS WITH/TO PEOPLE THAT THEY ENJOY. AND I ONLY LIKE HAVING THINGS DONE WITH/TO ME THAT I ENJOY.

It is literally that simple.

What they or I enjoy may freak other people out. But their disgust is not relevant to our consentual relationship. Just like the fact there is stuff other people do that freaks me the fuck out, and it is none of my business.

I have a play partner with whom I do really dark rape fantasy play. Torn clothing and bruises sort of stuff. The last time I saw them one of us had just gone through a breakup and wasn't feeling it, so we cuddled and scritched each other while we talked about it. Because that was what that person wanted and would enjoy in that moment. And it was fucking awesome because all the other negotiation and play had created a deep trust they could draw on to discuss and process their feelings.

Notice I did not say who plays what role, and who had the breakup. Because it doesn't matter. We are friends who happen to enjoy LARPing in a mutual fantasy world where fucked up shit happens.

we're all in agreement that rape fantasies are pretty common and not specific to queer people or anything right. like shockingly common. we don't have to have discourse about this. it's chill. re:being "forced to have sex"

i thought this was common knowledge. it's chill

[ladysharmaa]

Wild hearts

Jasper Hale x original character

Summary: When a new girl arrives at Forks, she seems to catch Jasper Hale's attention. However, he and his family are hiding a secret. What they don't know is that Evelyn has a secret of her own

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Evelyn and the Cullens were getting closer, especially Evelyn with Jasper. The family had taken her in and that seemed to be the biggest news at school. The Cullens, who had never spoken to anyone, had become friends with Eve in a matter of weeks. And that only brought even more attention to her.

Jasper would often come to her house to help her study and would also bring food made by Esme, who Evelyn had yet to meet. It wasn't that Jasper didn't want to take her home with him, but he already had to share Evelyn with his siblings, even Edward who had finally gotten over his frustration with not being able to read Eve's thoughts due to the static. He didn't want to have to share her at home too.

However, Evelyn had not forgotten her first friends at all, and made a point of dividing her time between the two groups. Despite being asked about the Cullens' secrets, especially Jessica and Mike, Evelyn never said anything, just rolling her eyes playfully and changing the subject.

She was now in biology class, Jasper by her side, extremely close to her. In fact, it was just to smell Eve's vanilla scent and not focus on the blood circulating through the other students' veins.

They were dissecting a frog, something Evelyn didn't really appreciate from her expression. Jasper laughed slightly at Eve's antics, who almost refused to cut the poor animal's belly. She handed the scalpel to the vampire, telling him he should do it. He accepted without complaint.

However, in the middle of the class, a distracted student slightly cut his finger with the scalpel. Evelyn saw a small drop of blood escape from the cut, and her eyes widened. Beside her, Jasper tensed, his jaw clenched and fists closed. He immediately pulled away from Evelyn and held his breath. The only thing that was stopping him from attacking was Evelyn, but even so he wouldn't be able to maintain control for much longer.

However, Evelyn didn't let him get too far, quickly grabbing Jasper's hand. She suddenly stood up in her chair, making a loud noise that caught the teacher's attention.

"Sorry! Blood, dizzy. I have to leave." She explained as succinctly as possible. The teacher nodded, looking at her strangely. She pulled the vampire with her. "Jasper has to come with me. To help me."

Without waiting for the teacher's answer, the two hurried out of the classroom, going as far away from the room as possible. They were at the end of the hallway, close to the exit doors.

Jasper, who was letting the scent of his mate consume his body, looked at her in surprise. "You know." he whispered.

"Surprise?"

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Jasper quickly took her to his car, heading to their house. He received a text from Alice saying that they were behind him, having heard what happened thanks to their sharp hearing.

The two remained silent, as Evelyn had said that she would explain it to everyone at the same time, as it would be easier if everyone was present.

Jasper nodded, but asked only one question. "Aren't you afraid of me?"

"No," she answered with certainty. "You don't know, Jasper, but there are many monsters in this world. You and your family are far from that."

They finally arrived at the Cullen mansion, and Evelyn looked at the house in adoration. They lived a little isolated from the rest of the city, near the edge of the forest. The house was large, with lots of glass that let in light. The walls were made of wood, giving it a rustic and classic feel, perfect for the Cullens.

The door opened and Evelyn saw two people, looking older but still extremely beautiful with their pale skin and amber eyes.

"Jasper? Is everything alright?" the woman, who Evelyn realized was Esme, asked. "Is that Evelyn?"

"Yes, hello!" she smiled at the couple, letting Jasper put a hand on her back and lead her to the entrance of the house. "It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. and Mr. Cullen."

"Please, call us Esme and Carlisle. You really are as beautiful as Jasper said." Esme said, opening the door wider for them to enter. Behind them, the rest of the Cullens' cars had arrived and everyone was heading inside, their eyes fixed on Evelyn.

"What's going on?" the clan leader asked, confused.

"She knows." Jasper said simply, but never taking his eyes off Eve.

"Well, I certainly have to tell you the truth now." Evelyn tried to calm her pounding heart. "I wasn't sure what you were, because I've met some of your kind who were… different. But the pale skin, the fact that you never ate, all signs pointed to you being vampires."

Evelyn saw Rosalie open her mouth, but cut her off before she could speak. "Don't worry, Rose, I won't say anything. After all, I have a secret too. And I really don't want it to be revealed."

"You can trust us, darling." Jasper promised, taking a small step toward her unconsciously. He needed to be closer to her.

"I know." She smiled slightly. "I am, this is going to sound weird I know, but I am the daughter of Aphrodite, goddess of love and fertility."

"So you're what? A demigod?" Emmett asked, his mouth slightly open. When Evelyn confirmed, he turned to his wife, "See? I got it right!"

Rosalie rolled her eyes at her husband's antics. Alice was the next to speak, "What does that mean? What can you do?"

"Quite unlike the children of the other gods, I have no powers. I know how to fight, but only because I've been trained since I was three. Demigods, those who are recognized by their parents at least, go to a camp. There we train to… to kill monsters."

"What kind of monsters?" Lucas crossed his arms, bringing Alice closer to him. Jasper glared at him, when he saw Evelyn's face fall.

"Oh, not you. Another type of monster. You know Furies, Minotaur, Mimas, and the list goes on." She revealed, seeing the shocked looks of the vampire clan. "Anyway, I'm just pretty. I attract attention. But the children of Athena are smart, the children of Poseidon can control water. We all live together. And we go on quests to kill monsters and send them back to hell. That's also why I have dyslexia, all demigods have it. We are hyperactive, something that helps in battles."

"You're not just pretty. You're much more than that." Jasper quickly said, completely amazed by the girl.

"Thanks, Jasper. Well, on my last quest I went with my friends, but it didn't go well. I was the only survivor." Evelyn looked up to keep the tears from falling. "I had to get out of there. Try to live a normal life, for them."

The vampires looked at Evelyn sadly. "I never knew demigods were real." Carlisle whispered. He was completely surprised, as was the rest of his family.

"Yes, we try not to let anyone know. Our life is dangerous enough." Evelyn said, after controlling her emotions. What she didn't know, was that Jasper was helping her calm down. "The monsters chase us. They can sense that we are demigods. But here, in Forks, none have found me yet. I think it's because of the presence of so many supernatural beings."

"This is wicked!" Emmett exclaimed.

"So that's why I can't see what you're thinking?" Edward questioned. "Or because Alice didn't see you coming in her visions?"

"Sorry, what?" the blonde raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Some vampires have gifts, darling." Jasper explained, now walking the rest of the distance to stand next to Evelyn. His amber eyes looked at her with admiration. "Edward can read minds, Alice can see the future and I'm an empath."

"Oh, wow. That's — wow." The vampire family laughed at Evelyn's reaction. "But yes, maybe that's why. What do you hear in my mind?"

"Just static. It's like a barrier I can't get past." Edward explained.

"That's cool." Evelyn murmured, her eyes wide. "What about you? Do you have another form besides your human one like the vampires I know?"

"No." Carlisle replied, his curiosity heightened by the knowledge that there were other species. "Are you able, if you can, to tell us more about these... vampires?"

"They are extremely beautiful and seductive women under the control of the goddess Hecate. They are known to feed on the blood of men. Their true form is a woman with flaming hair, white skin, glowing red eyes, fangs, one prosthetic Celestial Bronze leg and one donkey leg and wings." Eve explained succinctly. She remembered the first time she had fought an Empousa, it wasn't fun. "The demigods can see her in her true form, so I can tell your species apart. But I don't know a lot about you, we focus more on the mythical creatures."

"We glow when exposed to the sun. And we don't drink human blood, only animal blood, hence the color of our eyes." Evelyn nodded, already knowing that last part. "And we're immortal, of course."

"Same." Evelyn shrugged. The family looked at her in confusion, their eyes wide and eyebrows raised. It seemed as if she was discovering a new world after so many years of life. "Demigods are a bit stronger than a mere human. And we have a few more abilities. But we can still die if we are injured. At twenty, we become immortal, which is when our powers are at their peak."

"How old are you?" Alice asked.

"I'm nineteen." Evelyn informed with a small laugh. "My ritual isn't until next year. So now you know."

Rosalie was the first to snap out of her shock and pulled Evelyn into a hug. Evelyn quickly hugged her back, happy that there were no more secrets, or so she thought. Alice hurried to join them, the three of them giggling, while the rest of the vampires watched them with smiles. They acted like real teenagers when they were together.

After talking to the Cullen family a bit more, she and Jasper went for a walk in the woods. He was somewhat relieved that they had an eternity together, and that he wouldn't have to watch her grow old without him.

"So you can feel what I'm feeling?" Evelyn found the courage to ask. Jasper nodded. "That's a little embarrassing. I don't know why I feel this way around you."

"I know why, darling." He stopped walking, causing Evelyn to stop as well. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Evelyn lost herself as she looked into Jasper's eyes. They held so much pain, but also adoration for her. But why? The forest had gone silent, even the birds had stopped singing, as if they knew something was going to happen.

Jasper's cool touch on her cheek was soothing, and it made her stomach turn. It was as if every time the vampire touched her, an electric shock spread through her body. All rational thoughts were forgotten and she could only focus on him.

"We're mates. I'm yours. And you're mine."

"I think I need to sit down."