#trauma thursday

[whumpity-whumpwhump]

AI-less whumptober 2024: Trauma Thursday, relapse

Shirley exited the small convenience store and went to the bus stop, foot tapping rhythmically on the concrete, her fingers running up and down the surface of the small bag in her pocket.

Her mind buzzed in a weird anticipation, but she was fully aware of the true reason she was doing this and she couldn't help feeling as if her skin was crawling.

The bus came to a stop and she brushed past the people exiting it, seeking a seat further to the back. She slid into one, pointedly glaring at anyone who looked like they were going to sit next to her.

Marcus wouldn't want this, she knew that. He'd want her to stay clean, even go to a fucking rehab center if she had too. But fuck that, Marcus wasn't here. He wasn't around to do stupid dares with. He wasn't sitting in Slough House waiting for her to come back so they could gamble with paperclips.

He was fucking dead. And he didn't have to be. All he needed to do was stay back with her, stay in Lamb's office and he'd still be alive today.

No, no she shouldn't be angry with him. It wasn't his fault the idiot had gotten himself killed. It was Cartwright's psychotic brother who had done that.

She got off the bus, carefully willing her mind to go blank as she started for her apartment.

---

She let the door bang closed behind her, heading straight for the bathroom, not even shedding her jacket.

She took the small bag out of her pocket, dropped it onto the countertop and stared.

Images flashed through her mind, Marcus, dead in the one place they were supposed to be safe. Cassie and the kids, crying at the funeral. Patrice, dead on the floor after Coe had convinced her not to kill him. She still wasn't sure how she felt about that. Wished he had tried escaping, that she could've killed him herself, was grateful to Coe for putting five bullets through the bastard.

Once again the image of Marcus, dead at the top of the stairs came to her mind.

"Nope, fuck this."

Shirley poured the cocaine onto the countertop, lining it up into two neat lines. She couldn't help the surge of excitement at the action, taking out her bill and rolling, gentle as she performed this sacred ritual. yeah, it was horrible for her and a really shitty idea but that didn't stop the familiar anchoring it gave her. She snorted both lines and stood back, looking at herself in the mirror for a moment.

Damn, when did she get so skinny?

She pulled out her phone, shooting a quick text to Lamb that she wasn't coming in tomorrow. He'd be annoyed if he didn't at least get a heads up. Well, he'd be annoyed anyway but less so this way.

She walked to the kitchen, pouring out a bowl of corn flakes and adding a scoop of sugar. Next she added the milk and yeah- now she was starting to feel it, that familiar surge of adrenaline. She rode it out, closing her eyes and sitting back as a rush of euphoria engulfed her.

After a few seconds she opened her eyes and turned to eat her cereal.

About ten-ish minutes later a knock sounded at the door. She walked over, peeking through the hole to see River. She stood back, she sure as hell didn't want to talk to anyone from work right now. She waited for him to leave. He knocked again, calling out,

"Shirley come on I know you're in there, Roddy saw you enter the building like twenty minutes ago."

"And what makes you think I'd be here and not off hanging with a mate from the same apartment building or shagging somebody?" She demanded, opening the door with a scowl.

"You seemed like you were having a bit of a rough day is all and I figured no one at Slough House is really sharing about that kind of thing but you might wanna talk to someone." He seemed hesitant, like he wasn't quite sure what he was doing.

Marcus used to be the one she talked to. Not anything to serious mind you, they mostly just ribbed each other. Kinda like her and her siblings before they'd grown apart.

"What, Standish send you to check on me?"

"No," River shook his head, "I just figured, I mean it's only been a few days and...." he trailed off awkwardly then looked down at the case of beer in his hand.

"I brought beer if you just wanna drink and brood together in silence."

As if a case of beer or a conversation about their feelings would make Patrice any less his brother, as if it wasn't his stupid family drama that got Marcus killed in the first place.

She took the beer but held up a hand to stop River from coming in. She just wanted to be alone for christ's sake.

"Fuck off, Cartwright."

"What, you just take my beer and tell me to piss off? Isn't there anything I can do to help?"

She dropped the beer on the ground, turning to Cartwright.

"Alright yeah, you can go back in time and kill your fucking assassin family before they take out one of our own."

His face flickered but he stayed silent.

"Pardon me if I don't wanna be around the brother of the psychotic prick who murdered my partner!"

"...Right, sorry," Cartwright gave her a pained smile and turned, walking back down the hall.

Shirley shut the door and turned to her empty apartment, anger dying down to be replaced with nothing but the faintest spark of regret.

[yellowsubiesdance]

it’s Trauma Thursdays now!!! (i watch jujutsu kaisen)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Soup solves everything.

[seraphim-eternal]

My soul is sorrowful, even unto death.

Matthew 26:38

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

"What do you do when you are grown for a singular purpose. Borne for a singular purpose," they hissed. Blood marred both their knuckles and the wall. "How can I move forward?"

Create a new purpose? But what would become of their identity? Their past? Their history? Could they stand to cut off their roots? to take a saw to their branch of the family tree?

And what of their father? He had known them since a mere bud on the bark. Watched them flower and grow. To cut off their own branch... would sever all their connection with him as well. Yet they were not just his daughter. They were their mother's as well.

Could they even be called his daughter, truly? They were a Pawn from their very inception, from the moment the idea of them sprang from their mother's brain. Had they ever belonged to him? Or was it always to the Game?

Was reinvention of the self a betrayel? Would it even grant them freedom?

[animasola86]

(MODERN AU) In Your Care

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!mc x m!oc Genre: Angst/Smut/Drama // Words: 6.9k // [READ ON AO3]

Synopsis: Living in the same foster home, Nebbia and Sebastian are supposed to stay away from each other, but because they are both troubled teenagers with troubled pasts, they simply can't. But then the past comes back to haunt them, threatening to destroy everything.

WARNINGS: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content (oral, vaginal)! Psychological trauma! Sexual abuse/domestic violence! Forbidden foster siblings relations! Horny and damaged teenagers! (Original characters!)

Last warning and notes: This is set in modern times. There is no magic, just plain old life itself, in its worst form imaginable (there's also horny teenagers and love, but the darker themes might hit a lot of trigger points, so please be aware of that!). In this chapter there's an introduction to the setting and a very long smut scene. Enjoy with caution! (If you don't care about the plot, the smut is marked with 🔴!)

// - CHAPTER 2 →

1

Nebbia stirred in her sleep, inhaling sharply, her eyelids fluttering as another nightmare made her toss and turn. And she would, but something kept her from moving around too much: two arms wrapped tightly around her body.

About two months ago she would have stiffened and panicked, but tonight was not the first time she found herself in his embrace. Turning her head slightly, she opened her eyes and tried to see him in the dark. He had his face buried in the nape of her neck, breathing calmly and deeply, his body molded to the shape of hers, his groin pressed firmly against her rear, and she smiled when she felt exactly how happy he was to be this close to her.

At least he had peaceful dreams, finally. He certainly needed them.

To be fair, she did too, as did all the other people sleeping in the many rooms along the long hallway of the big house. They were all connected under one roof, sharing the same fate: being orphans, having been forgotten by the world, left behind, sent away, tossed around like a leaf in a storm.

Nebbia had been four when her Italian immigrant parents had died in a tragic factory accident in New York, and she had been handed around a lot after that, from foster home to foster home, all over the US, until she had been found by two very ambitious people who had made it their life goal to 'collect' orphans from all over the world.

She didn't know how they did it or why, but by coming to this house her life had changed to the better for sure. They all had their own rooms, bathroom and closet included, they had set mealtimes, and there was always food in the house. They even got a little money every month to buy things for themselves, or the opportunity to work odd jobs to earn some more.

There were, however, certain conditions and rules to follow, but she rather admired the strict pattern they had to live by. Which included a long list of chores, and each day they would check what they had to do today, and despite being a bunch of kids and teenagers and young adults, all of them stuck to the plan without hesitation.

All it took was a story told in hushed tones about how someone had been punished for disobedience, and the details would vary and get worse the longer it got handed around until it had become a common fear of all the residents to never break any rules to not end up like the poor soul who had done it before them. (Who might have never existed in the first place, but nobody knew for sure by now.)

Nebbia wasn't particularly afraid of those rules (or the consequences if broken), she actually liked the structure, it gave her a certain peace of mind.

And despite there being so many of them, at least a dozen orphans, it didn't feel like an orphanage, more like a family. Because they were paired into different groups, it didn't get too overwhelming during mealtimes or their shared free-time.

There were the kids, aged between seven and twelve, then the teenagers, where she found a place, being a few weeks away from turning seventeen, and the young adults, yet the oldest was only 21. They all had to look after each other, so the older inhabitants of the house took care of the younger ones.

Now where were the 'parents' you might wonder. Well, they provided shelter and food, sent the kids to school and college, gave them allowance, but most of them had only ever seen the people, who had taken them in, once. They were always somewhere, anywhere but the house. Traveling mostly, she suspected. To be honest, she didn't even care.

Her life was good the way it was now, and she never felt the need to talk to any authority figure anyway. It worked out, didn't it? Despite the curious circumstances, she lived a normal teenager's life, going to school, worrying about grades, coming home to do her chores, doing homework, helping others with theirs, doing her part.

Come night she found herself in her own room, yet she was seldom completely alone. Being the only girl in the upper age group, she had quickly adjusted to living door to door with three other boys, and again, it usually worked out. Looking back at the years before, she was really grateful it did work out, because that hadn't always been the case.

But she wouldn't look back, there was no reason to lament the past when her present was much more enjoyable. That was if the boys next to her room would play by the rules. They did have a curfew, but until then they were allowed anything... and anything ranged from yelling at computer screens, blasting their music till the walls shook, or doing whatever other noisy activity that would sometimes drive her insane.

There was Paul, the muscle man, another orphaned immigrant kid who was scooped up by their 'parents' some time ago, with his thick German accent, his short blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was the oldest of them, 21, and the provider of all things the others might be too young to get. He didn't talk much, but he might have been the noisiest of them all as he would indulge in lifting weights and doing other fitness related things she had absolutely no clue about, meaning he would usually grunt and groan loudly in his room, yet sometimes she suspected him to do something completely different.

He lived in the room right across from hers, so she didn't really care much about what he was doing as they didn't share a wall. On her left, however, lived Ryan, 19-year-old Canadian who lost his parents a few years ago when he was sixteen. He had joined the 'family' at the same time as her, two years ago, and they had a rather unique friendship because of that. He was tall, with short black hair and the darkest eyes she had ever seen, and most of the time he was hunched over like a shrimp in his chair and stared at his computer, playing games, watching porn and doing who knows what.

He didn't believe in the invention of headphones, so she would always hear what he was up to, and as he had no shame whatsoever (and luckily the younger kids' rooms were on the other side of the house, out of earshot), he would blast those moany films for all of them to hear, if he didn't damage their ears with his extensive collection of the loudest music she had ever heard. Despite it all, he was fun to be around, and she found herself talking to him for hours sometimes.

And then there was Sebastian, on the right of her room, the quiet British kid, seventeen years old, tall, with messy brown locks and warm brown eyes and a face full of freckles. He had come to them last, only about three months ago or so, and his story was a rather tragic one. When he was young, he had lived with his parents and his twin sister in a small house in the Scottish Highlands, secluded enough to make the accident that had occurred when they were only five all the more drastic.

During the night, a damaged cable had caught fire, and within minutes the entire house had burned down. He had been the only one making it out alive. After that he had lived with his uncle who hated him with a passion, mentally and physically abusing the boy whenever he saw fit, and when Sebastian was sixteen, misfortune struck again, and the apartment they were living in fell victim to another unfortunate fire that took the older man's life. Unfortunate accident indeed, or so they said. It was also rumored that it had been arson, and considering his life so far, it certainly felt like a late revenge on the man who had made his life hell until then.

Instead of being charged though, Sebastian had found himself ushered away by his new 'parents' and had moved into the room next to Nebbia's. She had been immediately drawn to him, probably because of his exotic English accent. She certainly could listen to him talk for hours, and she found herself doing exactly that as they got very close very quickly. And when he had opened up to her, she had felt even more connected to him knowing about his life so far, and soon they had broken one of the many rules the house they lived in came with:

No sexual relations between 'family' members.

Yet their hormones had been stronger, and so they found themselves sneaking into the other's room at night and indulging in their need to be even closer to each other. For about two months now, they were hiding their special relationship, only expressing it during the night when everyone else was sleeping. During the day and mostly during school they were just friends, orphans living in the same house together, and nobody suspected a thing.

And it had started rather innocently also. They both suffered from nightmares, and she had found it easier to sleep when he was pressed tightly against her body, and vice versa. And then they had 'slipped' and suddenly his cock had been in her pussy and oopsie daisy, gone were the rules. Of course they wouldn't parade it around and always tried to keep their noises to a minimum, but she knew for a fact that at least Ryan knew what they were doing when the headboard of her bed was quietly slamming against the wall they shared on countless occasions.

Luckily he never said anything, he sometimes even turned up the volume of the porn videos he was watching to mask their very real noises. Which in turn brought Paul to his room, who was very meticulous about the rules, and loud music or other noises after curfew were a total no-go for him. He was the oldest and very much enjoyed living up to the expectation of caring for all the younger ones. Ryan included.

And how he cared for him.

Nebbia remembered a particular morning when Ryan had struggled to sit down at the kitchen island for breakfast. “What's wrong with you?” she asked, looking genuinely concerned when he would wince and take deep pained breaths.

But he would just smirk at her and raise his eyebrows. “Don't worry about me, I finally got some too,” he told her with a wink, and she frowned. “Guess who I made break his precious rules,” he added and nodded towards the bulky form that was Paul on the other side of the kitchen.

Her eyebrows shot up even more. “No way!” she breathed, her cheeks bright red.

“Oh, way!” he confirmed and remained leaning against the counter as he shoveled a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Did you... like it?” she asked curiously. They never shied away from sharing these questions, there was something about Ryan that made it very easy to talk about those somewhat 'forbidden' things.

He groaned quietly and chuckled darkly. “Well, not at first. I mean, imagine something very girthy and long and hot being shoved into something very tight and small...”

She cringed at his words, not having to imagine anything, yet she tried her best not to show how badly her hands were shaking when she patted his arm consolingly. “Fuck, Ryan, that's... awful, I'm sorry...���

He only laughed, unaware of her discomfort and the truth behind her reaction. “Nah, it got better the more he moved, you know, the more, uh, friction there was. And then something tight and small became stretched and wide very soon.” She cleared her throat and shook her head at the images he planted in her head, focusing on his surprisingly happy face instead. “Incredible how... resilient and, well, accommodating some things are, eh?” he added and winked at her.

“I can't believe you made him break the rules!” she whispered with a side-glance at the blond behind them. “You think he'll do it again?”

Ryan smirked. “Oh I hope so, he seemed to have enjoyed himself too. Guess you're no longer the only ones doing it like rabbits!”

Her eyes widened, and she hit him in the chest, more or less playfully. “Ryan!” she hissed.

“Ah, come on! Hey, by the way, maybe you should try that too, I bet Sebby boy will be up for it!”

She hit him again and gave him another dark glare, forcing the memories down that reared their ugly heads in the back of her mind, but blushed all the same. Another wink and meaningful gaze later, she left him standing by the counter and went back to the table, sitting down next to Sebastian who had watched them with a dark shadow on his face.

“You two are awfully close,” he remarked quietly. Nebbia nudged his leg under the table.

“We're just friends, I told you,” she whispered and focused on pouring milk over her cereal.

He hummed in disbelief beside her, and she rolled her eyes before she leaned a little closer, her lips almost brushing against his ear. “He got railed by Paul last night,” she straight up told him and forced him into a coughing fit before he leaned away and stared at her with his ears burning red beneath his hair. She only chuckled and started eating her breakfast.

Later that night she fell asleep to the unmistakable sounds of a bed slamming against the wall next door and deep guttural grunts echoing through the silence of the night.

🔴When she woke up, she found herself in Sebastian's arms again. Inhaling deeply as she stirred, she snuggled against him, her hands rubbing along his arms. The house was quiet now. Time for them to change that.

Luckily for her, he had opted to slip into her bed already naked, joining her in her aversion to wear clothes at night, especially during those humid Midwestern summers. Her rear pressed against his groin provokingly until he moved as well and issued a deep groan. “What are you doing?” he mumbled into her hair, his voice low and husky, and she shuddered just hearing it as it vibrated through her entire body.

“Asking you to love me,” she whispered, continuing to buck against him.

“'m lovin' you,” he growled incoherently and pressed his lips to her skin, not moving any other limb or muscle.

Sighing deeply, she wiggled out of his tight embrace until she could roll around, somehow managing to push him onto his back before she climbed on top of him, her breasts squished between their bodies as she leaned on her elbows and cupped his face. “Love me with your dick in my pussy,” she told him and started grinding her pelvis against his groin.

“Language, darling,” he mumbled, finally opening his eyes to look at her, a tiny smirk playing around the corner of his mouth. She blushed, but not because of how crude and needy she sounded but because she loved it when he would call her darling, or love, or kitten, anything really, the accent made any pet name sound ten times better.

“Forgive me, kind sir,” she played along with a smirk of her own and the probably most offensive attempt at a posh English accent ever. “I am but a humble lady in dire need of some assistance. Would you be willing to help me?”

He barked a tired laugh. “Only if you drop whateveract that was and talk dirty to me again,” he muttered, his warm eyes wandering over her face.

She leaned in with a wide smile and claimed his mouth for a heated kiss. “Fuck me, Sebastian,” she mumbled against his lips, her breaths already quickened. “Fuck me until I cannot walk straight anymore.”

His eyebrows shot up as she looked at him to catch her breath. “You put an awful lot of pressure on me, you know that? I had a long and hard day,” he sighed.

“And you have a long and hard dick,” she replied with a wink, grinding her hips firmer against his erection. “But alright, you provide the hardware, I'll take care of the rest, okay?”

He chuckled. “Deal,” he said quietly and moved one hand up to grab the back of her head and pull her face closer to his again before capturing her lips for another passionate kiss. “Use me how you see fit then...”

“That's what I wanted to hear,” she mewled against him and gave him one more peck before she slowly slid down his body until she was settled right between his legs, pushing the covers away as she did so. Her hands rested on his hips as she took an appreciative look at what was in front of her.

His cock lay tall and proud on his lower stomach, deliciously erect, thick veins protruding, and his tip was already glistening in precum. Taking a deep breath, she leaned down and showered his heated flesh with gentle kisses, causing him to hum deeply as he relaxed under her ministrations. She continued the journey of her lips up and down his shaft, eventually letting her tongue join in as well as she took long broad strokes along it, relishing in the subtle twitches she coaxed out of him.

Her eyes wandered up to him while she closed one hand around his base and the other around his balls to give him a few soft squeezes as she lifted him up carefully. He watched her out of hooded eyes, chewing on his lips as he crossed his arms behind his head, giving her free rein over his needy member. Although she was probably a lot needier at the moment. Without breaking eye contact, she lowered her head towards the tip of his cock and let her tongue swirl around it, licking and teasing his slit, waiting for those drops to leak.

Humming softly against him, she then closed her lips around his crown and sucked hard, causing a deep moan to erupt from the back of his throat, before she took him in deeper, his lengthy girth hot and heavy on her tongue. For a long moment she was just suckling on him comfortably, adjusting to the sensation of feeling and tasting and smelling him so close. Despite the lewd nature of the action, she always felt almost relaxed when she had his dick in her mouth, relaxed and safe and without any care in the world as her mind went completely blank.

She could have stayed like this for hours, probably, yet it was always him, despite his initial reluctance, who turned the simple act of cockwarming into something more sexual. This time he inhaled sharply and bucked his hips against her, pushing his length even deeper into her mouth. She let out a soft whimper and looked up at him, meeting his heated gaze. He licked his lips and watched her.

“What happened to fuck me until I cannot walk straight anymore?” he asked, his voice raspy.

She blinked slowly, then moved back and released his cock with a wet pop. “My, how impatient we are tonight,” she teased and licked up some strands of saliva from her lips. “I thought you were too tired to do anything?”

“I'm never too tired to fuck your brains out, love,” he replied with a smirk and leaned up on his elbows.

She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. “Make up your mind, lover boy,” she whispered, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she felt the heat of his words gathering inside her stomach and way lower. “Can I use you or do you wanna fuck me?”

“Put your lips around my cock and find out,” he told her and reached one hand down to grab her hair.

Her eyes bored into his almost defiantly, yet she complied and wrapped her lips once more around his girth, eagerly pulling him in deeper as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked. He groaned at the motion and gripped her hair tighter before he forced her head down further. Another whimper escaped her, and she had to close her eyes as he hit the back of her throat. Her fingers dug into his hips as she steadied herself, before she started (under his guidance) to bob her head up and down on him, her lips straining around his cock as it moved in and out of her mouth, scraping over her tongue, teasing against her tonsils.

Each downward motion made her flinch when he pushed further and further into her throat. Forcing herself not to gag, she ignored the tears collecting under her lashes and kept moving, the urge to feel him and satisfy him stronger than even the urge to breathe at some point. His grip was firm, yet never too forceful, he knew exactly which buttons to push to keep her moving on her own.

If she would have had the brain capacity to think back to the beginning of their relationship, she would have wondered how fast she had turned from absolutely despising and downright dreading physical contact to being completely in awe about it, at least when it came to touching and getting touched by Sebastian. He had turned her trauma into nothing but lust and desire for him, from one extreme to the next, she was well aware of that, but she honestly couldn't care less.

She needed him, everything of him, be it his arms holding her tightly, his lips giving her gentle kisses, or his cock pushed deep down her throat or better yet buried within her pussy as if he was an extension of her own body. It was a strange kind of obsession, and the only normal thing about it was the fact that he needed her in the exact same way. They complemented one another, physically and mentally, and she couldn't be more grateful about it.

Having him face fuck her might have been somewhat degrading in the eyes of others, but firstly: nobody would ever see them like this, and secondly: she loved it, because she knew he would also bury his own face in her wet folds in just the same manner without her even asking for it. They lived for each other, and there was nothing stopping them, no rules, no other family members, nobody.

Or so she naively thought...

Lightheaded and drunk on the taste and smell of him, she kept bobbing her head, taking his cock as deep as possible until she was able to force his tip into her tight throat and hold him there. Feeling the tremors of his body and hearing his deep groans only heightened the heat burning between her legs as she moaned around him, before she leaned back and took a much needed breath, precum and saliva dripping from her lips.

Once her lungs stopped aching, she dove back in and repeated the motion, taking him deep into her throat until she was able to swallow around him, squeezing his tip enough to coax more groans and grunts out of him, while his fingers dug into her hair almost painfully.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed under his breath and jerked his hips against her face erratically, causing her to whimper and even gag around him until she had to lean back and cough and swallow the spit gathering on her tongue.

She never waited long to continue her ministrations, yet when she felt him twitching inside her mouth, she quickly grabbed his base and leaned away, breathlessly staring at him, before she scrambled to her knees and straddled him urgently as she guided his leaking cock towards her wet folds.

Without any hesitation or further preparation, because she was already wet enough just from sucking him off, she lowered her body and pressed his hard length into her tight pussy, a strangled moan escaping her as she felt him slipping into her warmth until he was balls deep inside of her.

He groaned as well, his hands finding her waist as he held onto her, his face flushed, and she knew he was ready to spill his seed into her wet depths, and while some might consider that the end of love-making, it was only the beginning for her. After a short period of adjusting to his size, with more and more shudders rushing through her body, she started riding his cock with reckless abandon, moaning and whimpering on top of him, as her walls clenched around him, assisting in pushing him further over the edge.

His fingers dug into her skin as his face contorted in a mixture of pain and pleasure, and when he came, he grunted loudly, pushing his hips upwards into her while she could feel the thick ropes of cum filling her up with every frantic twitch of his cock. She arched her head back, her hands resting on his chest as she started grinding her hips against him, relishing in the feeling of his warmth. When she eventually leaned up on her knees and continued riding him slowly, he had already collapsed onto the bed, his eyes closed, his lips parted, his breath shallow.

But she wasn't done yet, and she would keep bouncing on him until he got hard all over again, if he wanted to or not. With her body undulating rhythmically against him, her hair falling over her shoulders and her small breasts jiggling with every strain of her thighs as she moved up and down steadily, she felt herself getting closer to her own release as her walls clenched more and more around him. Breathing heavier from the exertion, her legs burning from the constant strain, she arched her head back and stared at the ceiling, her fingers gliding up and down his chest with every motion of her hips.

Suddenly his hands were on her wrists, his long fingers moving up her arms until he palmed at her breasts. Looking down at him out of hooded eyes, she smiled tiredly, while he eyed her intently, watching her every move as he rubbed his hands over her hard nipples. More moans slipped from her trembling lips, the tension within her stomach building, the tight coil ready to burst any second.

With a groan she started moving faster on top of him, her hands holding onto his shoulders as she leaned slightly forward to get better leverage, her hips really slamming against his now, the slapping of skin against skin mixing with the creaking of the bed. She was so close, she could feel it, her muscles contracting almost painfully, but her legs hurt and every move seemed to exhaust her even more.

Whining quietly, she pressed her lips together and kept going, really pushing herself to finally reach the desired heights. And then she felt his arms snaking around her torso before he pulled her against him with a smack that coaxed a surprised shriek out of her. Embracing her tightly, he pressed her to his chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck, as he finally started moving with her, his hips snapping upwards at the same rapid pace she had provided.

Her moans were muffled and luckily so because they were far louder now as he drove his length deeper and deeper into her, hitting all the right spots, over and over again, until she finally succumbed to the sensations. Crying out louder than she probably should have, given their circumstances, she felt her entire body shuddering, her pussy fluttering around his cock as he kept pounding into her through her orgasm. Stars danced behind her tightly shut eyelids, and she felt her head spinning as she clung onto him, letting him take the reins to finish her off.

Her release gushed around him and her body spasmed under the tremors as he held her through it all, his breath as heavy as hers as he panted into her ear. Slowly he ceased his movements before he pushed her down on him hard, burying his cock deep within her wet warmth, their combined juices seeping past their connection mercilessly. She lay on top of him, her heart thundering against his own, her limbs boneless and twitching uncontrollably.

Their sweat slick bodies molded together as they both came down from their highs eventually. Barely able to move, she shifted only slightly and turned her head to him, her nose nuzzling against his neck. For a long moment she just lay there, breathing against his skin as his arms held her tightly, keeping her warm and safe and close to him.

Her breaths eased slowly, and despite her fucked-out state, she felt the urge to continue as she pressed her lips to his neck and gingerly licked along his pulse, feeling his heartbeat thrum against her tongue. He moaned softly beneath her, tightening his hold on her before he moved his big hands over her back until his eager fingers grabbed her ass and kneaded it firmly. She hummed against his skin, kissing and sucking and licking it eagerly, while he groped her soft flesh and pulled the cheeks apart to tease a fingertip into her tight hole.

She squirmed then and gasped, her lips frozen in place in the middle of working a hickey into his neck. Her heart beat faster as something forced itself through her clouded mind, all the way from the darkness of the furthest corner where she kept those things she never wanted to think about again.

He felt her reaction and quickly withdrew his finger, moving his hands up to rub soothing circles over her back. “I'm sorry,” he whispered quietly. She swallowed hard and took a shuddering breath as she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“It's... alright...” she mumbled, still fighting the emotions breaking through the walls she had built around them.

“No, I... I forgot, I won't do it again,” he muttered, his low voice vibrating through her head, doing its part to help her push the memories back.

They had shared their life stories early on in their relationship, and while she knew that Sebastian had indeed deliberately burned his apartment down and killed his uncle to be free of him, he also knew about the circumstances that had brought her into this house full of orphans. It had been one of her lowest points to share it with him, but he had listened and consoled her admirably, and afterwards she had felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest.

But despite having shared her trauma, it was still too easy to trigger her with the most random things (even though a finger in her butt was certainly a rather obvious trigger). She was determined, though, to hold onto her mantra of not looking back and focus on the present, especially if said present was holding her in his warm embrace, trying to squeeze all the darkness out of her.

She inhaled deeply and turned her head, her eyes wandering over his profile. He met her gaze when she leaned up on one elbow, a silent understanding surging through the air between them, before she pushed it all back again and pressed her lips to his, concentrating on the sensations he was giving her right now instead of past occurrences that couldn't hurt her anymore.

He kissed her back quickly, urgently, his hand grabbing the back of her head to pull her closer as he slipped his tongue between her trembling lips and met hers in a heated dance. Breathless and lightheaded, she hummed and whimpered against his mouth, even grinding her hips against him once more, feeling his cock twitching inside her as it came back to life.

A deep grunt echoed in her ears as he wrapped his arms around her waist and swiftly rolled them around until he had her pinned to the bed, his body pushing her deep into the soft mattress. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment they just stared at each other, their hot breaths mingling, making her even more dizzy. Before she knew it, he grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his waist, then started moving his hips against her, plunging deep into her wet depths, his dark eyes boring into hers.

He had the darkest, most sinister expression when he was focused that always sent chills down her spine. That look also meant that he was hellbent on bringing her to the edge of pleasure in record time, only to hold her there for as long as possible. And while he leaned up on his arms and knees to get better leverage, she clung to him helplessly, her body melting under his powerful thrusts as he held her waist with an iron grip.

Moaning and whimpering, her voice strained, her heavy breathing broken up every time he would hit the deepest spot in her clenching pussy, she succumbed to the blissful void quickly, her mind running empty as her body spasmed beneath him, her juices flowing freely, creating a cacophony of wet squelching sounds and skin slapping against skin mixed with the rhythmic yet slightly erratic slamming of the headboard against the wall.

His own grunts were muffled when he leaned down to capture her mouth for a searing kiss but his rapid movements barely gave them the chance to kiss properly as he pushed her body up and down the bed, keeping them in a constant state of motion, two bodies colliding with fervor but still working in unison to bring them both higher and higher, and while she kept coming forcefully around him, he eventually groaned deeply as his tight balls slapped against her ass.

She cried out and thrashed her head back, lifting her hips off the bed as the most powerful wave yet crashed over her while he gave her that final deep thrust to bury his throbbing length all the way inside her until he emptied himself right into her contracting womb, spilling his seed warm and comforting in her depths.

Her thighs twitched uncontrollably, her toes curled up, and for a moment she was bent in the most pleasurable position, arched off the bed, held by Sebastian's strong arms as her feet dug into his lower back, deeply connected as their orgasms joined forces and shuddered through them powerfully. And then she collapsed back onto the bed with a deep exhale, her limbs twitching but boneless, her heart thundering in her chest, her mind blissfully empty while her pussy overflowed with his warm cum.

He sighed contently as he lowered himself carefully on top of her, not wanting to squish her too much, but he knew she loved feeling his weight on her, like a comfort blanket pressing all her worries out of her tiny body. Her walls still clenched around him, holding his cock in their tight embrace, savoring the warm sensation spreading within her.

For the longest moment she just lay there, smothered by his larger frame, her legs too tired to hold onto him anymore as they fell to his sides, twitching. Her hands ran over the sheets mindlessly as she slowly regained some semblance of control over her body. With a soft moan she raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck before she pressed her lips to his jaw, gingerly moving them up until she claimed his mouth for a lazy kiss.

He breathed loudly against her, kissing her back with his eyes closed, his tongue barely meeting the vigor of her own. She leaned away slowly to watch his deeply relaxed face, his cheeks blushed, and even in the dimly lit room she could have counted all of his freckles when he rested his forehead against hers and watched her out of hooded eyes.

“Thank you for loving me,” she whispered, gently cupping his face with slightly shaking hands. “With your dick in my pussy and otherwise,” she added and saw him smirking before he leaned in to kiss her softly.

“Anytime, kitten,” he muttered, and it was his low voice and the pet name and the way he pronounced it that made her moan into his mouth. He chuckled and nuzzled his nose against hers playfully. “Thank you for letting me love you, I know it might not have been easy for you...”

“It was very easy to fall in love with you, Sebastian,” she said quietly and ran her fingers through his hair. “You made it very, very easy...”

“I'm glad,” he replied and smiled at her warmly.🔴

She watched him intently, slowly calming down as she felt his warmth and strength and comforting presence, and she could have stayed like this forever, but reality came with a sudden knock on her door, and she flinched badly, almost knocking him out by smacking her forehead against his.

He leaned back with a sigh and rolled off her, breaking their connection too swiftly for her liking. It wasn't the first time they were interrupted, and he quickly made his way off the bed and into the ensuite bathroom while she scrambled into a sitting position, trying to ignore the shaking of her legs and his seed dripping past her folds. Grabbing a blanket from a nearby chair, she wrapped herself in it and slowly made her way to the door.

Another rapid knock made her flinch. “What?” she called before carefully opening it and peeking into the hallway beyond.

On the other side stood Ryan, with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his head tilted. “Sorry to disturb the little fuck fest you had going on,” he said with a grin, his voice low enough to not carry through the hall, but she shushed him all the same while blushing badly. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up. They're here,” he added, his gaze turning more serious when he said those last words that made her freeze on the spot.

Panic rushed through her limbs. “Fuck,” she grimaced and looked past him down the corridor. “Where –”

“Still downstairs, putting up the new month's chores I bet,” he told her. “Don't worry, they probably didn't hear you, even though I did. Holy hell, Nae, you really have to learn to keep it down... I could barely keep up.”

She stared at him with wide eyes, her blush spreading all over her body as she pulled the blanket tighter around herself. Suddenly Sebastian was behind her, completely dressed with only his messier-than-usual hair an indication of what they had just done.

“Stop jerking off to my girlfriend, you bloody bastard,” he grumbled as he stared at the older boy.

Ryan gave him a toothy grin. “Who said I was jerking off to her?” The wink he gave Sebastian made the latter step back with a frown, his cheeks bright red as well. Nebbia cleared her throat and grabbed the front of his shirt, urging him to look at her.

“They're here,” she whispered pressingly, and Sebastian nodded and pushed past her onto the hallway, trying to avoid getting anywhere near Ryan.

“See you later,” he said quietly, squeezing her hand before he left her and headed to his own room.

Nebbia looked back to Ryan and rolled her eyes before giving him a playful shove. “Thanks for the warning, now if you'll excuse me, I have to scrape the memory of you hitting on my boyfriend out of my brain...”

He laughed at that and winked at her, then turned around and walked towards the stairs leading down while she closed the door and prepared to meet their 'parents' and hopefully not get scolded for breaking their precious rules.

When she came down the stairs into the crowded kitchen, dressed and clean and as innocent as she could appear, she suddenly found herself staring at a sight she hadn't expected. Not only did she see the people who took her in two years ago, laughing and talking to their younger foster children, looking like the loving parents they pretended to be, but next to them stood a tall young man whose gaze was immediately trained on her, cold gray eyes boring right into her damaged soul, ripping open any seams and tearing down any walls she had built up after she had last seen them.

He was here.

Her heart stopped, her breath became erratic, cold sweat broke from her skin as she stood there and stared at him. It was the hint of a malicious grin moving the corner of his mouth that made her take a step back, then another, until she turned around with her heart thundering inside her chest and ran out of the kitchen, out of the house, onto the large driveway and away from him as fast as she possibly could, barely noticing anything around her as panic flooded her mind and hot tears spilled from her lashes.

She didn't even register the footsteps following her.

// - CHAPTER 2 →

End notes: The next chapter will focus on Nebbia's trauma and there will be no Sebastian. If you like a bit of noncon smut, this might still be something for you!

This is also a dumping ground for my darkest and most depraved ideas, things I can't usually put into my (happy) smutty oneshots, but as a new year's resolution I told myself to delve into other themes as well, especially angst which I always enjoyed writing, so it'll get a lot darker on here, but also fluffier as that's another goal I have. Though there might be no fluff in this particular story!

Now, thank you for reading and I hope I have caught your interest with this first chapter and you might enjoy reading more! Let me know!

[ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday: Blackmail au

PREV:

(Having retrieved Mar, and removed Krew from the playing field entirely, Jak and Daxter are now trying to settle into whatever life looks like now. Not everything is so easy to leave behind.)

Jak had been away from the sea for too long.

Haven had robbed him of more than his innocence, it ate away at his memories until Sandover seemed like a half forgotten dream. Haven may have had its own coastline, but it was far beyond The Wall.

Jak had forgotten how swiftly weather changed on the ocean.

At first, he'd been intrigued by the sudden clouds blocking the moon. He'd sat up from the rug -- the bed was too soft, too big; it was a luxury he was sure he hadn't earned -- to watch the black tendrils snuff out the moonlight and wondered if clouds would lower the heat the following day. At first, the sound of the rain was pleasant. He didn't mind rain, even the cold rain in Haven. Even if he'd never had a roof over his head during storms in Haven, the mere sound of the rain was a reminder that he was alive, and free. In the prison, the walls were insulated so civilians couldn't hear prisoners scream.

In the prison, Jak had never been able to hear the rain.

For a while, he hovered between sleep and consciousness, until the hammering of the raindrops against the window blurred into a dull shushing sound. His mind drifted aimlessly, in and out of coherent thought. At some point, thought became memory, and memory, dream. He was in the Water Slums again, holding that bright piece of gold. Funny how, after everything, it was the Lurkers who had protected the pieces of the golden seal all these years. Was that why Praxis had enslaved them? Had they been allies of- well, his ancestors?

The flimsy dock beneath his feet trembled with the roar of troop transport craft. Thunderous cracks and booms as Krimzon Guards dropped by the dozens to fill the slums. This was no mere patrol this time. Someone had seen him. Someone had betrayed him. Called in the Guard in hopes of- of what? Leniency? A reward? There were so many. Praxis wasn't playing this time. Maybe that's why Errol wasn't there.

Jak knew in his heart why there were so many Guards.

This was an extermination. Praxis finally understood how dangerous the monster he'd created was. And now he was making sure Jak didn't escape again.

Would they dissect him after he was dead to find out how he could transform? If he died while in his dark form, would he transform back or stay a monstrous corpse?

CRACK

Jak's eyes snapped open as a flash lit the room, blinding him temporarily. He acted on instinct, rolling under a gap he'd barely registered in his peripheral vision to take cover from the incoming gunfire. Another rumble filled the room as he desperately tried to take stock of his surroundings.

Not the slums. Indoors.

Daxter?

No. Where was Daxter?!

Slowly, his brain fed him more information.

Someone snoring over his head.

A soft texture beneath his fingers -- woven fiber of some kind.

The sound of rain.

The nightmare or memory reluctantly released its grip on his mind as Jak began to make sense of where he was.

This was Spargus. Not Haven.

He was here with Daxter and Sig and Mar.

He still had the seal fragment.

He had locked the door.

He had locked the door.

Hadn't he?

Jak rolled out from under the bed. After taking a moment to confirm that it was indeed Daxter snoring atop the mattress, he hurried to the door.

Locked.

He sighed and began to walk away, before turning around and testing the door.

Couldn't be too careful.

And maybe checking the lock three more times was excessive. But having a door at all was so new to Jak, let alone one he was allowed to lock from the inside! How could he be blamed for not being used to it yet?

Lightning streaked past the window in an ugly purple-blue bolt, so close Jak could feel the static crackling across his skin. It reminded him of-

Don't think about it. Don't.

It was the color of-

No No No No No-

The image of The Chair flashed through his mind, and Jak felt ill.

No No No No No-!

He felt exposed, here in sight of the window. Vulnerable. Without stopping to think, Jak dropped to his belly and shimmied beneath the bed again. The blanket hung down off the side, obscuring him from sight -- and obscuring the lightning from his view.. It was as good a place to sleep as any, he supposed. Quiet, sheltered, like the alcove in the temple. Jak covered his ears to block out the thunder and counted backwards from fifty.

He was asleep before thirty.

Damas was out of bed with the first crack of thunder.

In a way, he was amazed that his body still knew what to do after nearly three years of forcing himself to go back to sleep. Who was to say if Mar was even still afraid of thunder?

A high-pitched whine from the nursery pulled his body into action before he had even finished the thought. At the very least, Mar and Jak's puppy wasn't enjoying the weather.

When he opened the door, Damas found Mar sitting up in bed with his arms wrapped tightly around the puppy. They were still- so still! Just listening. Mar turned his head slightly and noticed his father. He put a finger to his lips.

"Quiet, Daddy. Are the bad guys close?" he signed.

Alarmed, Damas stepped into the room and looked around.

"What bad guys?" he signed back, scanning every nook and cranny.

Thunder rumbled, more distant now, and Mar pointed at the ceiling.

"There! That's the big boom gun, right?"

His relief that his son was referring to thunder was eclipsed by the dull, terrible understanding that Mar had become accustomed to the sound of gunfire and having to stay quiet. Damas sat down on tbe bed beside his son and stroked his head.

"Everything is alright," he murmured. "It's only thunder, dear one. No one can hurt you here. Daddy's here. Daddy's got you."

Mar crawled up into his arms and nervously chewed on his thumb.

"But what if they get Jakky?"

"Jak is safe, the storm can't get him either," Damas tried to assure the toddler, but his reasoning fell on unconvinced ears.

"Can you check? Just check, okay?"

With a soft grunt of exertion, Damas got up and tapped lightly on the door separating his sons' rooms. "Jak?" he called softly, "Can Mar come in?"

He could just open the door, he knew. Jak only locked the door that led to the corridor. He insisted on being able to get to Mar in an emergency as quickly as possible. But this wasn't an emergency, and Damas didn't want to risk damaging the little bit of trust Jak was beginning to have in him by barging in uninvited. He tapped at the door again, but there was no answer.

"Jak is sleeping, Mar," Damas told his younger son. "Let's let him sleep, alright?"

"No!!" Mar shook his head rapidly. "Jakky always comes when I'm scared! He didn't come in!"

Despite himself, Damas felt a hint of Mar's trepidation creeping into his mind. It was true that Jak was always the first one in the room when Mar had a nightmare. He had expected to already find Jak in the room once he'd heard the dog whine. Hoping he wasn't making a mistake, Damas eased the door open, just a crack.

"Jak?" he whispered.

There was no answer. Save for Daxter, sprawled out on the pillow, the bed was empty.

Damas pushed the door open, frowning. The other door was still closed, and Jak wouldn't have left without Daxter or his brother. Irrational worries about losing his firstborn a second time propelled him into the room, looking for him.

It was a pretty bare room. Rug, window with a bench beneath it, desk, and bed. Jak hadn't given it any personal touches yet. Damas knelt to examine the blanket Jak had left crumpled on the rug where he must have been sleeping again. Lightning flickered at the window, providing the briefest moment of extra illumination. The edge of the blanket stretched toward the bed.

Damas shifted to peer under the edge of the frame on a hunch, and his heart clenched.

Jak lay huddled in a fetal position, hands clamped tightly over his ears. His breathing was soft and even, and his face was peaceful, but Damas knew it wasn't sweet dreams that had driven Jak under there.

As thunder grumbled, only just beginning to retreat into the distance, Jak huddled tighter, reacting to the sound in his sleep.

Oh.

Damas of Spargus was not a man given to fits of tears. To be the king of the Wastelanders often meant hiding his emotions beneath the surface where others could not guess them at a glance. Even so, for a moment the pitiful shape beneath the bed blurred as Damas found himself wondering what kinds of experiences might drive a youth as brash as Jak to hide from thunder.

They were not pleasant thoughts.

"Oh, oh little heart," he whispered thickly. With one hand he fumbled for the blanket and awkwardly pushed it beneath the bed, covering Jak as best he could from his angle.

"There, now. It's- It's going to be alright. You'll see one day. I will never let them take you again, I promise."

He knew Jak couldn’t hear him. He knew the words were more for himself than for his son. But what of it? He was not made of stone. His heart ached when his children suffered, just like any other parent worth their water.

Heavily, Damas turned to stand and found himself face to face with Mar. The little boy stood there, sniffling, with his Lurker doll clutched tightly in his arms. A worried pout decorated his round face as he edged forward.

"Where's Jak?" he asked.

Damas wiped his eyes quickly. "He's....um...camping."

He lifted the edge of the blanket hanging off the bed.

"See? Every- everything is alright. Why don't you go back to bed, sweetheart?"

Mar gave this all of two seconds of thought. Then he squirmed beneath the bed to snuggle up to his brother. Jak relaxed minutely, as if he knew Mar was there.

"You watch out for the bad guys, okay Daddy?" Mar signed anxiously. "Don't let them get us."

Damas winced. "No, Mar, I won't let anyone get you. I'll just. I'll sit here in the door until the storm passes, alright?"

He was still there when Jak woke at dawn.

It was warm when Jak woke. Not in the way he would've expected from the desert, but a close, sweaty heat. With a soft groan, he forced open eyes sticky with sleep. Mar lay there, curls plastered to his round cheeks with drool as he cuddled closer. Well, that explained the heat. The kid was like a walking vent of yellow eco. Jak started to sit up, only to crack his head against solid wood.

"Ow!"

Jak fell back on the floor clutching his forehead.

"Rotsucker-!"

The bed. He was under the rottin' bed!

Jak groaned and dragged his fingers down his face. Right. The storm. He'd had...what, a nightmare? A flashback, maybe? At least he was still too low on dark eco to transform. The thought of Damas seeing that shape so close to Mar scared him more than any flashback.

It took some doing to slip out from under the bed without waking either Mar or Chopper. As Jak maneuvered backwards around the pair, he found himself unexpectedly grateful that they'd all had such drastic changes to their diet recently. In Haven, where the dog ate whatever he could find, it was not uncommon for everyone to be awoken with truly foul canine flatulence. And that was on top of how Jak usually smelled after working twenty hour "shifts" without rest!

Jak eased out from under the bed, rubbing his bruised forehead ruefully. His blanket was still tangled around his legs, albeit half pinned under Mar. Gingerly, Jak unwrapped himself and tossed the excess back under the bed with his brother. Then he paused. Granted, he hadn't been in the best state of mind the night before, but...hadn't he left the blanket in the middle of the room?

Movement caught the corner of Jak's eye, and he turned quickly to find Mar's door open. He'd expected that, given the child's presence. But he hadn't expected Damas to be seated in the open doorway, half asleep. He had a blanket around his shoulders and his hair tied up in a scarf, and only the knife hilt his hand rested on betrayed his true nature.

Gradually, Damas became aware of Jak looking at him. He slumped against the doorframe and yawned.

"Oh good. Th' storm's over."

Jak cocked his head and frowned.

"What...what are you doing?"

Letting out another jaw-cracking yawn, Damas let go of the knife at his belt and sleepily scratched his cheek.

"Ah. Mar was scared last night. Flashbacks. I promised I'd stand guard so you three could sleep."

He blinked slowly for a few moments, then inhaled.

"Oh. Right. I owe you an apology, Jak."

Slightly suspicious, Jak narrowed his eyes as he stood up to look for his boots.

"Uh...why?"

"I entered your room without permission," answered Damas, as if it were the simplest answer in the world. He gestured with one hand to the edge of Jak's turquoise blanket. "Mar didn't see you when he looked into your room. I called in, but you were asleep by then."

Damas had been in his room.

That meant he'd seen him sleeping under the bed.

Jak couldn't pin down a specific feeling about that, but he didn't like it.

"Why did you come in?"

He sounded a little hostile. He couldn't help it.

"To prove to myself that you were still here. Still safe."

Damas shrugged wearily. He gave a muted groan and rubbed a crick in his neck.

"In the dead hours, even children's fears are contagious."

"Did you touch my stuff?" Jak peered at his foot locker as if trying to gauge whether it had been tampered with.

"I gave you your blanket," Damas acknowledged. "Then I told your brother to let you sleep, and set up post in the door here. It's been-"

He squinted at the window with bleary eyes.

"Three? Four hours, maybe?"

With a loud groan, Damas grabbed the door frame and hauled himself upright. Jak wondered at the amount of clicking and popping sounds that seemed to be coming from him. Was that all his spine?! Damas rubbed his face and stretched.

"Thank the Precursors it's Fifthday. No meetings until noon, barring incidents." With a sleepy wave, he began to shuffle back into Mar's room.

“If you need anything, get Sig. I'm going back to bed.”

All was quiet for a moment, with Jak staring in bemusement at the now empty doorway. In the back of his sleep-addled brain, he wondered if this is what it felt like to be Mar when Jak hovered.

[lunar-years]

Not to sound batshit crazy but I graduated college in December 2018 at age 21 which immediately led into a year and a half of the deepest darkest depression I’ve ever experienced as I was separated from ALL of my closest friends (who were still finishing school across wildly different states) and moved back home as I was still struggling to figure out what to do with my life and eventually working a terrible but demanding retail, used bookstore job for $13/hr (worst experience of my life tbh) WHILST holding a double bachelors degree to Covid hitting in 2020 and being furloughed from said job and living off unemployment checks while still miserable and not seeing my extended family, to my Grandma (the most amazing woman ever ever rip) dying of cancer in Nov 2021 to my mom being diagnosed with rare stage 4 bile duct cancer in March 2022 to being one of her main caretakers for the last two years to now all of a sudden being 27 going on 28 still living at home caring for my dying mom in hospice and fearing I’ve wasted my youth and I just…. First of all I’m very proud of myself, in all honesty, for making it this far, because a couple times I didn’t think I was going to…and at the same time I feel like I’ve lost the entirety of my 20s to quarantine and shitty jobs and not making a living wage and grieving all the people I’m closest to which is. Really fucking shit!! Idk. I don’t know where I’m going with this. Life sucks and it’s also beautiful. I’m grateful to be able to log on to this stupid site and find a community of people who care about all the goofy things I care about. Love 2 u all.

[andtheylive]

got an oc idea rattling in my brain, may try to tie it to scream. hmmst.

[pynkhues]

It's not talked about enough that Louis remembers Lestat much better than he looked in truth. Case in point: Lestat in the revisit of the loustat fight. He was all bloodied and beaten up but Louis initially remembered otherwise. Or the trial, Lestat looked very good. But in the revisit (banishment scene) he looked pale and unhealthy.

I think the tower scene is the same. Lestat looked much worse in truth.

Funny thing is I don't think it's Armand's doing, Louis's lovestruck brain just remembers Lestat better lol.

I don't think it's Armand's doing either, anon, but I do think there are different things at play in terms of how Louis remembered Lestat differently at various points. In a lot of ways the trial is the easiest one to talk about, because I think it was very much so informed by the complex feelings Louis was experiencing in their reunion and the realisation, deep down, that he'd succeeded in saving him the night of the murder, but also the fact that he's believed Lestat to be not just complicit in the trial, but a key orchestrator, so he's not going to be seeing Lestat as in a weakened state, particularly when he, Claudia and Madeleine are in such a dire situation.

The night of the fight is more complicated because I think it does play more into Louis' self-denialism of his own nature and what he inflicted on Lestat prior to Lestat's terrible act of violence. It's the positioning of himself as the absolute victim and Lestat as the absolute perpetrator, when the reality is something more complex, as it often is. That's not to say that Louis isn't the victim and Lestat isn't the perpetrator, but victims are rarely without fault and those faults are often weaponised against them, and Louis - consciously or unconsciously - is probably aware of that. Domestic violence can be a lot more complicated than people want it to be, and I think the show's always been interested in exploring that.

So yeah, I do think it's coloured by love, but also by the fact that those moments are pretty extreme points of trauma for Louis that he feels the need to curate the memories of.

Funnily enough, I was actually reading the book reunion scene last night as I was working on my fic and obviously it's very different from the show's reunion scene, but one of the things that struck me in it was Louis' really looking for the scars on him and the fact that he doesn't immediately see them. It's not until he holds him at the end that he realises he can see the scars he and Claudia put on him, they're just faint, and it's a really interesting beat in the scene. I'm curious if the show plays around with that going into the new season too - they've obviously leant in a little with the choker in the teaser, and it'll be interesting to see how they document the histories of these characters on or in their bodies, especially given the note of the rocks in Louis' ankles, which is a detail I really love.

[keldabekush]

Poor Skimmer 😭 he’s my favorite boy

Poor Skimmerrrrrr hes the only one out of the three [four] of them who acts like he has his shit together so sometimes it goes under the radar when hes having a really hard time. He channels it onto other people and takes care of them instead of himself because that way he feels like he has control and is dealing with things in a positive way. Where he sometimes is just ignoring his own shit to an unhealthy degree and sticking his nose in other peoples business as a distraction

[bam-monsterhospital]

what actually really still bothers me about orym invalidating Dorian's suffering (over something ashton said) --y'know other than a Character of colour being shut down in favour of a white character's whatever-- is that no one stood up for Dorian.

No one. no one stood up for Dorian in the slightest.

no one pushed against orym. no one challenged him, despite everyone there knowing the level of unnecessary cruel weight (to a loved one) in his words.

[mywingsareonwheels]

Modern technology/works/understanding/etc. I'd like to give "Endeavour" characters...

Morse: noise-cancelling headphones, an mp3 player with a huge amount of opera on it, non-alcoholic real ales (St Peter's Without, the alcohol-free Doom Bar, etc.), a subscription to medici.tv, awareness of Joyce DiDonato's voice. Shadi Bartsch's translation of The Aeneid. Awareness of ADHD and autism as Relevant To Him and some suitable online community. Also some therapy but that goes without saying...

Fred Thursday: Fred. <3 awareness of PTSD and C-PTSD as A Thing and both being relevant in his case (from the war & work and his childhood respectively) even more therapy than Morse needs. All those youtube channels with 24/7 livestreams of various wildlife. The complete works of Terry Pratchett. I'm almost tempted to say fandom spaces because the gentler of them might actually appeal to him a lot.

Max Debryn: more recent medical knowledge. Modern queer community including the more awesome online bits. The work of recently rediscovered composers such as Barbara Strozzi and Joseph Bologne. Possibly Carol Ann Duffy's poetry. Elly Griffiths' "Ruth Galloway" novels if he fancies a busman's holiday read. ;-) Other than that I think he has more to teach us than the other way around. :-)

Peter Jakes: see Fred re: PTSD and C-PTSD awareness and a huge amount of therapy. I'm tempted to add at least the option of more recent help with giving up smoking given a lot more is understood these days. A Netflix subscription and an excellent gaming system. Instant messenger things so he can keep in touch with Oxford friends while in the US.

Joan Thursday: an environment in which it's more usual for women to not give up their jobs on marriage (or not get married at all). A lot of more recent folk rock, singer-songwriter, pop, and indie music might hit the spot for her to add to what she already loves. Yet more therapy. An awesome community of intersectional feminists. The complete works of bell hooks.

Win Thursday: oh Win. Therapy, the Open University. Really good couples therapy with Fred because they clearly love each other so much but *boy* do they fuck up towards each other (mostly him, but not only him). Instant messenger for better keeping in touch with everyone. An air fryer.

Sam Thursday: more therapy, and addiction help. Anger management help. Oh bless him. <3

Reginald Bright: grief counselling, instant messenger, Abir Mukherjee's detective novels, online ordering of Indian groceries, places online to put his art and get it fully admired, and then instant messenger once he moves back to India.

Jim Strange: honestly? he's the only one who seems to weirdly thrive in the time he lives. But I *would* like to throw intersectional feminist, LGBT+ and anti-racism literature at him to help avoid his less admirable moments. And actually some online community (fandom even?) so he has more people to bond with that aren't at the Lodge or at work...

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[harmcityherald]

Boromir

[shoutsindwarvish]

you ever be really vulnerable with someone and it feels good and cathartic in the moment but then the next few days it sinks in and even though you feel 99.9% sure nothing bad is going to happen from it your stomach lurches when you think about it?

it’s reminding me of the time i went to the top floor of a skyscraper and went onto a viewing platform with a glass floor. the odds i’m going to fall and die are extremely low but holy shit is it high up here