#ugh splitting* i hate tumblr tags

[sugarwishes]

it’s scary to see how my bpd affects my cognitive

[farfromstrange]

Ease The Pain | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Summary: Matt helps to ease your period pains.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), vaginal fingering, description of blood and period pain, use of "Good girl", hurt/comfort, praise kink

Word count: ≈ 3.1k

a/n: I love how Tumblr just keeps not showing my works in the tags so I have to post them again. Fun. Anyway! My period pains are the fucking worst. I hate my life. If men like him were real I'd sure feel a lot better. Anyway, I wrote this in like an hour or so because I'm that desperate. Hope you enjoy!

Pain. 

That’s all you can feel in every inch of your body. The core of that pain lies in your lower stomach and back, but it has already spread to your head and the rest of your muscles, even your legs, and feet. 

It’s Saturday, and you should be up and enjoying your free time but instead, you’re bound to the bed while the worst cramps of your existence ripple through your uterus as it brutally sheds its lining just because you chose not to get pregnant again this month. 

Every position you try feels only comfortable for a split second before another surge of pain appears somewhere in your body, mostly your stomach, but every time a cramp hits, your head seems to explode too, and shifting is futile. 

You’ve tried everything you could think of. Painkillers, heat, curling up into a fetal position, standing up, sitting down, you even took a hot shower, but none of it managed to take the pain away for more than a minute or two. So you have accepted defeat, realizing you don’t stand a chance against the monster that is mother nature. You decide to suffer in silence until the cramps ease up, which could take another day or two. 

Every once in a while, your eyes flutter close and you find yourself blinking back to life a few minutes later disoriented and almost shaking from the pain. Another wave of cramps tears through your body, keeping you wide awake as you roll onto your side and pull your legs up to your chest. 

The door to the bedroom opens and it creaks, which makes you grind your teeth. You feel the sudden urge to tear the glass apart, nerves thin from exhaustion, and the noise only adds to your pain.

“Sweetheart,” Matt’s voice is gentle from where he’s standing against the door frame. 

You bury your face in your pillow. “Go away!” you groan. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he says. 

“You’re right, I’m not, but there’s nothing you can do about it. I just hate my fucking body right now and it hates me.”

“Well, at least you’re not pregnant.”

You lift your head to glare at his stupidly attractive person. He’s not wearing a shirt, that bastard, and his grey sweatpants are hanging dangerously low on his hips. 

He ducks when you toss a pillow at his head. “Fuck off!”

He wants to laugh, but the sound of your pained moan into the pillow has him sprinting toward you. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry. If it’s that bad, maybe you should take some more Advil.”

He strokes over your upper arms, pulls the hair out of your face, and presses feather-light kisses to your shoulder blade, which feel soothing at first, but the cramps ruin it for you once again. You’re forced to switch positions, curling up on the other side of the bed. 

Matt follows, sitting up against the headboard on his - previously your - side of the bed.

“I’ve already taken the full dose today,” you tell him. “If I take any more, I’m gonna have more problems than my fucking uterus stabbing me to death. Ugh!”

You hate this. You’re in pain, exhausted, and bleeding so badly, you’re sure you’re going to have to go to the bathroom soon. Every last contraction of your uterus has you cursing Eve for eating that stupid apple. 

His hand moves from your arm to your lower back. Gently forcing you onto your stomach, he starts digging his fingers into the sore muscles of your pelvis. You sigh. Now that is something you haven’t tried yet, too embarrassed to ask him for help with something like this, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You keen into his touch, letting him loosen your muscles one by one. The cramps continue in the front, but the tension in your back finally releases and gives you a second to breathe. 

“You need anything?” he asks, leaning over to nuzzle his face into your neck. “Tea, maybe? More pillows? Or do you want me to run you a bath?”

Sleep threatens to take over. “No,” you slur. His hands are working wonders and you start to question how you even deserve him. “Keep going. Feels good.”

Your approval is all he needs to knead firmer at the flesh protecting the bone of your pelvis. You melt into the mattress. His lips move back to your shoulder, leaving messy kisses over your heated skin.

“Ow, fuck!” The next sharp cramp directs itself toward your entire front, tearing your abdomen apart. “Why does this keep happening?” you cry. “I hate this!”

You’ve been suffering from periods for so long, you should have gotten used to it, but every month feels different, and sometimes worse.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says. “I wish I could help you.”

“Yeah, but you can’t. Too bad!”

That was rude.

You whimper a small apology into your pillow.

“It’s okay, I know you’re in pain. If it helps to yell at me, go right ahead.”

You want to laugh, but you’re too worn out to make any other sound than pained puffs of air from deep within your chest.

Another harsh cramp has him moving his arm around your body, his hand continuing the massage on your stomach now, and you can’t help it; The pressure offers sweet, sweet relief for the pain that has kept you on edge for the past eight hours and his touch sets every fiber of your being on fire. You push your hips back, wanting him to push his fingers deeper into the flesh. In response, his other arm comes to rest around your shoulders from the front, and he pulls you flush against him. 

In his attempt to make you more comfortable though, he accidentally brushes over your sensitive nipples, and you moan, so oversensitive from the hormone outburst, it hurts. 

He “accidentally” does it again, just to test a theory, and when you moan again, louder and higher this time, Matt realizes he just opened Pandora's box. You wouldn’t have asked him to even if it killed you, which it might, and he read somewhere that orgasms produce enough oxytocin to help with period cramps. He knows you don’t care much about studies, but he can’t deny that there is something plausible about this theory. Most importantly though, he just wants to help you. Hearing how much pain you are in hurts him, and he wants to stop your suffering in whatever way he can. 

“I have an idea,” he breathes into your ear, fingers moving lower until he reaches the hem of your sleep shorts that you haven’t bothered taking off. “Do you trust me?”

Goosebumps erupt on your skin. He keeps sending electrical shocks down your spine with his touch alone and no matter how hard you try to refuse yourself such a lucrative treat, your body has a mind of its own during this particular time of the month. Even though you’re in pain, the arousal is only a foot away. 

He pulls at the waistband when you don’t answer, letting it slap against your skin. It’s not painful, but you can feel the burn spread from your stomach straight to your core.

“But-” you try to interject. 

He won’t let you. “Do you trust me, angel?” he asks. 

“Always,” you say without hesitation. 

“Then let me help you.”

You’ve never done this before. You’ve never let him touch you during your period before, ever, not since you got together. You’ve always felt far from sexy, bloated and bleeding, and moody most of the time, if you’re not uncontrollably eating whatever you’re craving before puking from the pain, but you can’t help the whimper that passes your lips this time when a certain gush of wetness that isn’t blood starts coating the walls of your cunt. 

He’s shirtless and so incredibly hot, he looks almost biteable. His muscles flex, you can see every last dent in his bicep, and it grows seemingly two sizes every time he moves his hand to touch you. 

The way he’s almost choking you with his elbow has you clenching around nothing. And it hurts because God, you’ve never been this sensitive, not even after several rounds of sex with him, but you don’t care. Your clit pulsates and it rubs against whatever fabric is closest. The friction is bittersweet. You try to move your hips to feel the same jolt of electricity again, to get rid of the pressure resting between the sore folds of your cunt, but you can’t seem to find relief.

Matt grows confident in his actions and starts to cup your breast ever so slightly. You gasp, tears shooting into your eyes. Your brain is fuzzy. Your body tingles. Your nipples get hard the second he brushes them, and the more he squeezes, the harder they seem to get. Your skin flashes hot. You’re not sure what feels better – the hand on your stomach or the one on your breast. 

“Do you want to stay like this or can you sit up against the headboard for me?” you hear him ask. 

In your state, you can either nod or shake your head, and you’re not sure which one is the better option. The curled-up position is the only one you can feel comfortable in, but if you don’t sit up, he can barely touch you. It’s a desperate situation and you’re so overwhelmed, you want to cry — but it’s not a question of wanting anymore, you need to cry because your body is a bundle of hormones and your mind isn’t yours to command. 

He tilts your head toward him to kiss you. “It’s okay,” he whispers, “I’ve got you.”

You whimper again, tasting the coffee on his lips. 

Slowly, the hand that once rested on your stomach inches lower and lower and lower until… you throw your head back into the crook of his neck and he tightens his grip to make sure you don’t slip away. 

The moment he presses his calloused fingers to your clit, your vision explodes. You try to spread your legs while at the same time scratching at his arms and pulling at the dark hairs that adorn them. Your muscles are too sore to throw your leg over his hip, a familiar position from the many lazy mornings spent drowning in each other, and you can’t seem to find another way to get his hand closer either. He’s already cupping your pussy with his entire hand, drawing circles on your clit, and with how swollen it is you jolt with every stroke, but it’s still not enough. You need more space. 

“Wait,” you say. “I need… can you…”

The systems in your head completely shut down. 

He reads your mind. His hand slips away, pulling you up with him against the headboard. Instead of forcing you to sit up though, he places you over his lap, a pillow under your stomach, and your legs spread over his thighs. The slight bow in your back from the positioning of his knee works better than any position you could have thought of. 

“Better?” he asks.

You spread your legs wider. There’s enough space now, you can move freely and still roll over if you need to, and the sheets can easily muffle your moans.

“Sweetheart, talk to me,” he strokes a hand over your exposed ass cheeks, “are you okay?” 

You don’t want to imagine the mess you’re making, lying naked over his lap while actively bleeding out of the very folds he’s touching with his skilled fingers now. You’re wet enough for him to slide across them, returning to your clit. 

“Just touch me,” you whine. “Please, Matthew, just touch me.”

And for the love of God, you think, don’t think about the sheets. 

“Anything you want, baby. This is about you,” he says and finally, God finally, he gets to work.

There has to be something he takes to make his fingers feel so amazing every time he touches you. He never fails to amaze you with his skills. The fingers he uses as fists more often than not to beat criminals senselessly only do good for you. They comfort you and bring you pleasure where and whenever you need it most. He would never hurt you, especially not with his hands.

You cry out when he picks up the pace. “Matt,” his name is only but a breath on your lips, “Your fingers…”

“What about them?”

“I need them,” you say.

His thumb stays on your clit while he circles your entrance with his ring and index finger, pushing in only slightly and you hiss, as he expected, from the soreness of your walls.

“Fuck!”

“Relax,” he tells you. 

He moves his fingers deeper, slipping right in, the wetness and heat of you engulfing and hugging him like you were made to take him. He sighs and curls his fingers inside, finding your g-spot with ease. He knows exactly where to press to have you crying out in ecstasy, and you have to bite down on the sheets to keep yourself from screaming. 

Pain is the last thing you can think about. All you feel is the burning pleasure in your core, the electricity that spreads through your cunt like an explosion and rests in your lower stomach as the biggest knot you’ve ever felt, and it doesn’t take long for you to feel the pressure that has your legs shaking as it waits to be released.

All the while Matt keeps massaging your back with his other hand, matching the circles he draws on your clit and the thrusts of the two fingers that he has shoved deep inside of you. With every painting he draws, you inch closer to the edge of release. It’s only moments away, you can feel it. 

The sounds you’re making are incoherent, muffled through the sheets, but he can tell from the way you’re bucking into his hand that you’re closer than ever. 

“You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart,” he’s purring the gentlest of praises into your ear, “You’re such a good girl, letting me take care of you. You deserve it. You deserve to feel good.”

You moan, reach for his shoulder, and cling to his skin for dear life. Your legs start to shake around his hand, locking him in place. You’re thrashing around wildly, not letting him finger you but rather riding him in a way that has you coming faster than you thought possible. 

Matt only chuckles. “That’s it, take what you need. You can come whenever you need to,” he says. “And I know you need to, baby, so do it. Let go for me and come.”

“Oh, fuck, Matthew!”

Your walls spasm around his fingers as you come apart. You’re crying, moaning, possibly even screaming and you clench so hard around his fingers, you’re scared you might break them.

His tongue is silver, trained, and too damn good at articulating words that drag out your orgasm to the point it hurts, especially now. “That’s it. Let it out. I’ve got you.”

It wouldn’t stop. You’re wasted, exhausted, and spent, but you can’t stop from pulsating heavily around him. 

Only when the pleasure turns into an uncomfortable soreness does the wave of the orgasm start to ease back into the ocean. 

Your clit is aching, swollen, and wet from how coated his fingers are, and you can already feel the wetness trickling down your thigh. The blood, you think. It’s not just arousal or your cum, you’re sure of that. 

The bed probably looks like a crime scene now. You have to change the sheets. Not even as you’re crying, quivering from the intense orgasm, you can help the shame from swallowing you whole. He can’t see it but he can smell the copper. It has to be more than uncomfortable.

You whimper when you finally come down from your high, still holding onto his arm.

“The sheets,” you manage to choke out. “Matt, I’m so sorry…”

He shushes you. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t not worry about it. I just bled all over your sheets.” 

He helps you sit up and into his lap where he holds you close to his chest.

“It’s just blood, baby,” he reminds you with a gentle kiss on your lips. “I don’t care. It’s natural. Besides, have you ever seen me not covered in blood?”

The crinkle in his eyes is playful and you manage to laugh softly.

“Hm?”

“No, I guess not,” you say. “But still…”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.”

Your head drops to his shoulder. “I love you.” There are a million other things you want to say, but for now, those have to be enough. 

The pain is gone, finally, and you can breathe again without getting an excruciating headache. He hugs you tight to him, stroking your hair and kissing your scalp to make sure you’re okay, that you know you’re safe and that he wouldn’t go anywhere. He’s with you, until the end of the line.

“C’mon.” He manages to tear himself away from you eventually. “Let’s take a shower, yeah?”

You pout, feeling his dick more than hard in his sweatpants underneath you. “What about you?” you ask.

Matt shrugs, pulling you in for another kiss. “I’ll take care of that.”

“We can-“

“No,” he cuts you off with a finger to your very tired lips, “You’re too sensitive for that. Let’s wait another day and then we can think about it, okay? I don’t want you to be in any more pain than you already are.” 

Thanks to your hormones, his considerate nature has you crying like a baby in seconds.

He is confused at first, touching your contorted features in worry before he reminds himself that it’s normal. You’re more emotional than usual, but it’s okay because your body is doing unspeakable things that no man could ever understand, and you’re going to feel better soon enough. The world just sucks for now, then maybe again in the next twenty minutes if you happen to come across the picture of a very cute dog or watch one of your comfort movies, but you’re going to be fine. 

So instead of making fun of you for something you can’t control, which he never would but he knows that some of the men in your life have and it scarred you for life, he holds you to his chest and tells you, “You’re going to be okay.” And he keeps telling you this until you manage to stop crying and are smiling again, thankful and so in love, you forget how fucking awful you feel for just a second. 

It wouldn’t take long for the pain to reappear, but until then you could enjoy the relief in the arms of the man you love.

Having Matt Murdock by your side is much better than painkillers, and much more effective, too.  

And as you lie there on his lap, his arms around you and his lips on yours, you can’t help but keep wondering,

How did I get so lucky? 

[vivithefolle]

I'm a bit confused. You said in one post that you thoroughly dislike Hermione and that you had no respect for her at all. Yet ... you like Romione? idk, it seems contradictory tbh. I like when Romione shippers acknowledge her flaws and messed up moments but when someone that dislike and even hate her character that much ships Romione and I see them posting about them and calling them "cute" just seems weird

I’ll share with you my whole thought process so you can understand where I’m coming from:

Itty-bitty Vivi who read Harry Potter for the first time (at 13/14, so not so itty-bitty I guess, oops): Woaaah Hermione and Ron yaay!!! They're awesome I love them! They're my OTP always and forever!! Best thing to happen in Harry Potter!! JKR is a genius!

Slightly less itty-bitty Vivi discovering the Harry Potter fandom online (thankfully years after the ship wars, else I probably wouldn't have survived): Why is there so much hate towards Ron? And why are people so opposed to Romione?? It was meant to be since the first book! Or, okay, the second book is when I realized it was gonna happen, but still! Oh well, here is a fic where Hermione berates Ron for everything and he is the only one actually working for their relationship. Cool, more Romione!

Even less itty-bitty Vivi starting her own Tumblr and going around, adding her grain of salt to debates and talking about stuff: Yeah! Ron is great! He's done bad things of course but Hermione has done her fair share of bad things too! Actually, now that I'm rereading the books, I'm reminded of this person I used to call a friend, who was quite smart and cultured but would often be very harsh to me because they claimed it was “for your own good" and “because I'm more mature than you"… I still wanted to be around them, because they were just so smart and passionate, but we often rowed and eventually they really just went too far and tried to make ME out to be the bad guy and most people believed them because they had a reputation as someone cool and logical while I was known for being emotional… wait, what the fuck, that's… that's exactly what happens in the fandom with Ron and Hermione! What the fuck, was I Ron? Admired their intelligence, praised and supported them, fell in love even but was met with scorn and open disdain?!… no, no, come on. Hermione wasn't that bad.

Vivi rereading Half-Blood Prince (and no, this wasn't about the canaries, but about what Hermione was doing after): Oh my god she was that bad.

Vivi as she ponders alternately: Wait, what about JK Rowling? What does she think about all that? What was her intention, what did she want to accomplish with the characters? I know books belong to their readers but if I want as objective an analysis as possible I must try to understand her thought process while she wrote.

Vivi learning about a staple of British literature called “literary alchemy”: The quarreling couple!! Sulfur and Mercury, the Red King and the White Queen, who must marry for the story to end happily!! And their union is represented by… a rose!! Oh my god, that is brilliant, that is so cool! Romione was ALWAYS going to happen, I knew it! Ha!

Vivi discovering the “[Ron] needed to make himself worthy of Hermione” quote: Wha… but… what? Worthy? As if Hermione was some sort of precious trophy or whatever? What the hell? Wait, Ron had to make himself worthy of her but Hermione didn't have to make herself worthy of him? Is it because Ron is the boy or some shit like that??

Vivi going through JK Rowling's interviews and finding sexism and double-standards galore: Yep, it's because he's the boy. And that bit about Hermione being based off herself when she was younger… ouch. And to top it off the scriptwriter pretty much worshipped Hermione…

Vivi rereading the books again: Is it just me, or does Ron hardly ever get any praise or acknowledgement from the adult characters? Meanwhile Harry and Hermione get stuff like “as good as Charlie Weasley" or “brightest witch of her age"! And, damn, I used to side with Hermione because I love cats, but she was completely awful in POA! She apologized but then the plot made her out to be right even then?? And I always thought her Yule Ball entrance was kinda over-the-top, but damn if that's not compensating for something! Also what the hell, I get that Harry is suffering and all but will someone PLEASE pay attention to the fact that Ron is being bullied BY A FOURTH OF THE STUDENT BODY AND NOBODY SEEMS EVEN REMOTELY CONCERNED????? Also what the hell is wrong with the sixth book, I never liked it much but it's like it's trying to make every character look bad, wtf?? And, and, holy shit I never noticed but Ron was asking legit questions during the Horcrux Hunt debate but Harry kept deflecting or mocking him but it's still Ron who had to apologize in the end??? And I've read a whole post about how Hermione punching Ron is the appropriate reaction for a very small child and not a supposedly “mature" character, and that Harry had to SHIELD RON FROM HER, oh my god?? It's… oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with JK Rowling?

Vivi, in denial: Well, Harry Potter is decidedly not a romance. It's about love, but romantic love is quite far down the priority list when it comes to it. JKR has herself confessed that she wasn't too good at writing romance, and I don't blame her because writing romance is hard. But I did enjoy Romione! When I was little I saw it coming from a mile away, granted I was already savvy in literature but that must have been because she was doing something right! And then the sixth book happened… the sixth book which… which was released after the Harry Potter movies were being filmed, wasn't it?

Vivi looking up the timelines: Oh my god. Oh my god it's even worse, the movies were being discussed before Goblet of Fire came out. Come to think of it, I always found that the Trio felt… different, after Prisoner of Azkaban. Harry and Ron especially felt like they had gotten dumber? And Hermione was suddenly explaining everything when exposition used to be split between her and Ron…

Vivi, in mourning: So that's what happened. Ron ended up being shortchanged to make Hermione look better, because Rowling was fonder of Hermione than she was of Ron, and the scriptwriter too come to think of it. Curse you, Steve Kloves!!!

Vivi, who is nothing if not what Pokémon fans call a nostalgiafag: But… but… yeah, it sucks that Ron was shortchanged, and actually yeah it's a freaking travesty and I WILL freaking spread the world about this, mark my words, but, but I still… I can't help it, when Hermione “looked up at Ron and her frostiness seemed to melt" I melt too. When Ron compliments Hermione or tries to take care of her as much as he can I… it still does something to me, I still find myself rooting for them even if I know there's the awful sixth book and the stupid post-Locket beatdown. Their kiss, for God's sake, I've just realized that Ron may have swept Hermione off her feet physically, but it's Hermione who jumped him, you could say Hermione metaphorically swept Ron off his feet!! God damn it, that's good, that's so good!

Vivi, at war with herself: No, I can't let myself be blinded by nostalgia!! The facts are that Hermione shows borderline abusive - even actually abusive - behaviour, this can't be denied! I don't want to root for an abusive relationship! I don't want to root for a relationship that relies on my favourite character being dumbed down to work!!!

Vivi, about to uncover the secrets of the universe: … wait a second. I don't have to.

Vivi, having an epiphany: Reading Solstice Muse's Romione fanfics gives me such happiness because she just gets the characters! She doesn't portray Hermione as perfect and never fucking up, and she always treats what happens to Ron with respect… Well, especially since she can't play them off as a joke since she often makes Ron the POV character. But, yeah! I can still like Romione… if it's well-written. Which, well, isn't the case in the original books… at least, isn't the case anymore after Rowling's bias got the best of her. Even though they do have their great moments.

Vivi, finding purpose in her life: I am going to spread awareness. I am going to tell the world. Fuck, just rereading the books, I've noticed how blatant the favouritism is and how unbalanced it can be. No wonder the fandom seems to collectively scoff at Ron - the books themselves do whenever it's convenient for them! The fandom plays favourites, because the author herself played favourites, and the worst part is that she didn't even realize it! Imagine you spend your life getting into traumatic situations out of love for your friends who always receive compassion and validation for their feelings about said traumas, but YOUR trauma is hardly touched upon and in the rare case it is, it's only to be mocked or used against you… Fuck! You're a piece of work, JKR! And the fandom just swallows it whole like a bunch of lobotomized snakes! Screw it! Screw it, I'm going to say it like it is, and I'm going to say it LOUDLY! People are going to hear about what Ron goes through and we'll see if Harry and Hermione look like the only ones worthy of therapy then!!

Present day Vivi, as she scrolls through the (heavily filtered) Romione tag on AO3: Ugh, another Drarry… and another… and another… oh, a Hinny-centric fic for a change, cool but I'm looking for more Romione than that, sorry. Gah, why is it that Romione appears as a secondary ship everywhere but they can't get their own stories? I've just seen a Snupin come up for God's sake! Oh, finally, a full Romione!! *clicks* … … … awww that was so sweet. Kudos! Okay back to the search… oh, another one!! *clicks* … … … it's Ron-bashing. It's Ron-bashing and it's not tagged Ron-bashing and that's why it showed up in my search AND I'M GOING TO FREAKING RIOT-

[neon-junkie]

Duality - Chpts 1,2&3

Summary: There's a handful of things you hate, like the men who continue to pester you at the Saloon after you've told them no, or the way strangers look at you when you decide to wear pants. But the one thing you hate that most is Micah Bell. But if you hate him so much, then why are you allowing him to wrap his hand around your neck as he grinds his crotch down against yours? Is he using you? or are you using him?

Pairing: Micah Bell x f!Reader

Word Count: 8837 (ongoing work) 

Rating: NSFW Warnings: Depictions of Violence (Reader is fine)

Tags: Dead Dove: Do not eat, Fights/Arguments, Slow burn, Hate sex, Enemies with benefits, Enemies to lovers, Pity sex, Vaginal sex, Outdoor sex, Creampies, Blood kink, Knives, Choking, Breath play, Rough/Manhandling, Heists & Robberies, Nipple sucking/licking, Making out, Sloppy kisses, Dirty talking, Grinding.

Notes: This fic was inspired by the gang of children that recently decided to start hurdling abuse at me simply because I enjoy Micah character. If he bad then why he make my pussy go brr?? I ain't ever gonna stop writing for him, somebody's gotta love the ratman so I guess I'll volunteer as tribute. This piece is inspired by @deputytrash​ and their work called ‘Micah Bell is a Rat Bastard,’ that I can’t actually link here because Tumblr hates links:))) so please go stalk them for the original fic. shoutout to all the other Micah fuckers out there; we're kinda fucked up but hey, we ain't hurting anybody<3

[Chapter 4]

Some men are born with the purest of hearts; they're full of good intentions, kindness, willingness to help others. They want to see the world go round, they enjoy watching the days go by with their loved ones around them. They want nothing more than love and equality, happiness for everyone, and they strive to achieve that. Those men, such as Arthur, are ones that you obviously enjoy for such reasons, and you enjoy watching them on the sideline, smiling at the way they make everyone happy. You've tried dating those men before and something felt... off about them, almost fake; you wish to enjoy such relationships with the purest of men, but you've never been able to sit in that saddle comfortably. The leather smells off and something constantly jabs at your tailbone. It's fine, honestly, to not sit comfortably in that saddle. Others can enjoy those men, ones who deserve them, ones who are just as pure and wholesome as those men they seek out. You're happy for them, you enjoy seeing them enjoy each others company, they really do deserve it. Only that leaves you with the problem of 'who the hell am I meant to fall for?' There are others who are sometimes split down the middle, with good and bad intentions, men such as Dutch who eventually crack under so much pressure, as expected. But these men have never really taken your fancy either. You curse the Gods for creating you with no intentions to seek out those pure of heart, or even slightly pure of heart. Why can't you be considered normal? You're a good person, yet you don't long for someone as good as you. 

Instead, those who have only ever walked the darker path take your fancy. Those men who have no good intentions in them, who only look out for themselves and sometimes (but rarely) the few people closest to them, if you're stupid enough to get close to them, to begin with. You enjoy the challenge, you enjoy taming the beast, being the one person that someone so wild can trust. It's a generic trope that you've read in romance novels where the princess falls for the villain, but they always seem to have the happiest of endings? and the stories themselves are so juicy, so rich and full of layers. The generic happy couple trope gets so boring, nothing to read into. But if you're given a story about a well-layered villain who softens out within time then you'll eat said story off the dirt if you have to, it's always so rich and fulfilling, though you never expected to end up in one. "Which book are you reading today?" Mary-Beth asks you as she joins you on the beach, leaning back against the log you're leaning against. You do miss sitting on the cliff at Horseshoe Overlook, peering up at the landscape whenever your eyes need a break from being so engulfed in whatever book you were reading. But there's something just as good as looking out at the water, hearing the waves lapping against the shore as you read, enjoying the river breeze on a hot Lemoyne day. "The same as last time, that one centered around the villain," you tell her, your eyes momentarily peeking up to watch as she sits down beside you. "Still? Oh, you and your dark fiction," Mary-Beth replies with a laugh. She'd given your book that nickname after you explained the plot to her. Mary-Beth, as wholesome and pure as she is, couldn't quite understand why you'd get so engulfed in a book where the princess falls for the villain, completely ignoring the stud hero and running off with the bad guy instead. After explaining how layered the villain was, and how his actions were the result of past trauma, she somewhat understood but decided that she's happy with her sappy romance novels. That's understandable, your taste isn't for everyone, and you'd both agreed on that. "Like I said, I just find it more interesting," you reply, your eyes trailing over to the landscape. "Which book have you got?" you ask. "Oh, the same still. I've almost finished it! The poor man in it has finally been turned away from that woman, though they're both in love," she replies. "But from what you've told me, she's not exactly... the best person in the world?" you ask. "I guess not. Maybe I am into a little bit of dark fiction then, hm?" Mary-Beth questions with a soft laugh, finally opening her book to pick up from where she left off. "Maybe-" you begin to speak, but the sound of shouting draws your attention back to camp. You and Mary-Beth peer over your shoulders to watch the commotion in the distance. Ugh. It's Micah again, screaming at Bill for being so kind to the poor dog Jack had found, Cain. He's hollering away, something about not being soft on strays, that they'll only follow you around for food, whatever. You try to hold in your laughter when Micah does the last thing you'd expect, literally barking at Bill before storming off. "That man sure is evil," Mary-Beth comments. "I still ain't sure why Dutch allows him to follow us around, a bit like Cain really," she frowns, turning her gaze away. "He is, funny that he can't see just how much of a dog he is," you laugh along, returning your focus back to your book. "Has he bothered you again recently?" she questions, knowing that your last run-in with him was only a few days ago. "No, he ain't spoke to me, he ain't even looked at me." "Good, probably because he's still got that black eye you gave him," Mary-Beth replies, trying to hold back on her laughter. "Well, he did deserve it." Micah had pestered you a few days ago, stirring up some shit simply because he was bored. You were sat by yourself in camp, playing a solo game of solitaire whilst the wind was quiet, your cards not blowing away for once. He waltzed over, as always, looking like he owned the place; he only acts that way because he sucks up to Dutch, a bit of a teachers' pet, though he's definitely never stepped foot in a school. "Hey," Micah says to you. Well, you were unsure if he was speaking to you as your head was down, focused on the cards, so Micah quickly snapped when you didn't reply. "I said hey. You deaf?" he asks, lightly tapping the back of your shoulder. You let out a long sigh as you roll your eyes and look up. "I didn't know you were speaking to me, Micah," you reply. "Well, who else would I be speaking to, doll? There ain't anyone else around here," Micah says with a laugh, waving his hands about to gesture that nobody was nearby. "I can see that now," you sigh. You begin to put your cards away, knowing that if Micah's here then there's no way you'll be able to play this game in peace. Whatever, you were stumped anyway, considering calling this game quits, and Micahs appearance had encouraged you to do so. "What're you doing?" Micah questions. "I was playing solitaire," you reply, shuffling the cards back together and returning them to their container, an old mints tin that you found fits the cards much better than their old paper box. "And why have you packed up, hm? Is it 'cause I'm here?" Micah asks, knowing the answer. "It is," you say as you stand and put the tin in your pocket, beginning to walk off. The last person you ever want to talk to is Micah, but it seems he really wants to talk to you as he begins to follow you. "Where're you going? I ain't that bad. I know we don't exactly get along but you can't fault me for trying to right these wrongs with you," Micah begins, playing the white knight card as always, batting his lashes as if he hasn't made a handful of remarks towards you in the past, ensuring there's a thick barrier between the two of you. "I ain't interested in making friends with you, Micah. Now leave me be," you snap back, picking up the pace as you storm past Dutch's tent, hoping he'd pick up on the small commotion but his head is buried deep in his current Evelyn Miller book. "Such mean words coming from such a pretty face," Micah pouts, still on your trail, letting out his generic laugh. "Wouldn't you rather have friends than enemies?" "I'd rather have nothing to do with you, Micah," you tell him as you come to a halt, stopping in the dead center of camp. If Micah won't leave you alone then hopefully someone will step in, as their eyes had begun to peer over to the commotion; even Dutch has put his book down. "Easy there, sweetheart," Micah coos with his generic laugh. He goes to speak again but you're quick to cut him off. "I ain't your sweetheart, Micah. Quit calling me those names," you huff. "Of course, you ain't. I like a bit of fire in my women but you're just a bit too reckless for my taste," Micah tells you, his tone slowly turning to frustrated. He's quit the innocent act, lowering his hands as he had them raised as he followed you throughout the camp. If he can't win you over then he'll ensure you never even slightly consider him a friend, beginning to insult you to burn whatever was left of that bridge. "Good, I'd hate to be your taste. What an unlucky woman she must be for the likes of you to have eyes on her." Micah lets out another laugh as he takes a step closer to you, a little too close, and you're quick to cut him off before he can open his mouth. "Back off, Micah. Don't you try and get close to me," you order him. "Why not, hm? You scared someone is finally gonna put a woman like you back in her-" That's enough. Without hesitation, you clench your fist and swing for that vermin of a man, if you can even be kind enough to call him a man to begin with. You were aiming for his nose but hit his cheekbone instead, which is just as good as his eye had swollen up from the impact. Micah stumbled back and hit the ground with the most satisfying thud you'd ever heard, the sound still making you smile whenever you think about it. You didn't stick around much after that, burning the image of Micah lying on the floor clutching his eye into your memory before turning heel and marching off, wandering off into the trees so you could cool yourself off and devilishly admire your bruised knuckles. You refused to bandage them up, even after Charles had practically begged you, but you were eager to show off your trophy, even flaunting it at Micah from a distance whenever he came into your line of sight. His eyes hadn't met yours since, but you could feel his burning glare on you whenever you two were within ten feet of each other. You'd even overheard him attempting to bitch about you to Kieran, who simply nodded along to prevent himself from getting pulled into this mess. Needless to say, you and Micah do not get along. There's a handful of camp members that don't get along, but your burning hatred for each other seems to stand out the most. You're always eager to step in whenever Micahs attempting to chew someone's ear off, and he always gives you that same laugh as he attempts to mock you, but he often turns heel and storms away, calling you a bitch or whatever petty insult he has on his mind. But since that interaction, Micah has stayed well clear of you. Dutch probably told him to stop pestering you after you'd almost knocked his lights out, though you doubt that as Dutch ended up doing something that only seemed to make your 'friendship' worse. ----------- Another day, another dollar, or whatever the civilized phrase is. It's a quote you've heard within towns and cities, something bosses drill into the minds of their workers to stop them from realizing that they're being used as workhorses for less than pennies. At least out here you can work on your own terms, your only boss is Dutch and he always ensures that everybody gets a fair cut. Why slave away in a factory when you can rob some folk that needs robbing and make a few hundred off them? Dutch has a heist planned for you today, one that he says needs a woman touch. Karen is the only other gunwoman in the camp but Dutch has told you that she's a little too reckless for the job. Dutch knows that Sadie is also a gunwoman but she's still in mourning, arguing with Pearson every so often, but she isn't ready to step up to that rank yet.  "And that's why I need you for this job. It's genric and old fashioned of us, but there's a payroll heading up into Rhodes and I was thinking you could play the damsel in distress, hunched over at the roadside, pouting sweetly as you ask them for a ride into town," Dutch tells you outside his tent, a week or so after your last run-in with Micah.  "And if they don't stop?" you question.  "Why would they not stop? A pretty lady such as yourself asking for a ride? When they're already heading that way? They must be some cold-hearted folk in order to turn down such a simple request," Dutch explains.  "What will you and the others be doing?"  "We'll be hiding nearby, waiting for that opportunity to rob them. Once you're on board then they should hand over the cash, I don't see why they'd want a poor innocent woman to be hurt. Hosea will be waiting in Rhodes to bring you back to camp, and you won't need your guns for the job. A kind, working woman such as yourself wouldn't carry them anyway," Dutch replies with a grin, stubbing out his cigar with the toe of his shoes.  The plan seems simple enough, and what have you got to lose? So, you agree to the heist, heading into your tent so you can change your appearance to look like the average working woman. You dress in a simple skirt and shirt, your hair neat and your makeup simple, just how the women in Rhodes dress.  Arthur gives you a ride to the location, your horse staying back at camp, as well as your guns. You feel a little uneasy heading out of camp without them, but the boys are hiding behind what's left of a wall nearby. You overheard Arthur protesting with Dutch, saying they shouldn't be robbing folk so close to camp, but Dutch assured them that this would be fine.  Dutch has brought along Arthur and Lenny, and unfortunately, Micah, who still hasn't spoken a word to you, but his eye is now unfortunately better. Dutch didn't even mention to you that Micah would be coming along, seeing as your paths weren't meant to cross. This was meant to be a simple holdup job after all, only this gang seems to be cursed as things always go wrong.  You're walking along the road, acting as if you're exhausted. The sound of a wagon approaching can be heard, and you peer over your shoulder to see it coming into view. You begin to wave your arms, signaling for them to stop, and thankfully, they do.  "Are you alright, Miss?" one of the men questions, the one driving the wagon. There are two more men on horseback behind them, not many guns for a wagon that's carrying payroll.  "I do apologize to ask such a request but my horse bucked me a while back, I'm only trying to head into town. Are you heading that way? Would you be able to give me a ride?" you question. You play out the usual body language, slouched shoulders, batting your lashes, and pouting your bottom lip. This is a mans world, after all, but you know exactly how to play the game. The driver and the shotgun speak to themselves quietly, clearly bickering about the fact that they're carrying payroll, but they eventually come to an agreement.  "You're welcome to climb on the back of one of the horses, though we can't let you on the wagon, Miss," he replies. Well, that's good enough, at least you're still somewhat of a hostage. "Oh, thank you! I really appreciate it!" you smile sweetly, heading over to the nearest hired gunmen and climbing on the back, loosely holding onto his shirt as you get comfortable on the horse's rear.  They return to their journey, barely making it a few meters down the road when one of those slimy Lemoyne Raiders appears from behind a boulder and attempts to hold them at gunpoint. Your eyes peer over to where the gang is hiding and thankfully, Dutch steps in, one gun pointed at the driver and the other at the rival gang member. You're still unsure on what Lemoyne Raiders are. Inbred? Wannabe military? Either way, they're stupid enough to fire without warning, and completely miss Dutch, though Dutch doesn't miss him. The plan goes to shit and you're caught in the middle of the gang war, your gang and the Lemoyne Raiders fighting each other, as well as the wagon.  The gunman that you were holding onto slouches over his saddle, a bullet ripping through his side, thankfully missing you. You think Arthur had shot him, but either way, you're pushing his body off and stealing his horse, riding out from the commotion. What help are you now without your guns? It's best that you run away and fast. As you near the camp, you notice a small group of white hats approaching round the bend - lawmen, so you decide to keep riding forward towards Braithwait Manor, dipping off into the trees before they can notice you. You'll find somewhere to hide out until nightfall, riding through the thick forest until you find a shack down south, close to Shady Belle, but far enough from the commotion so the law shouldn't tread down here.  The stolen horse is hitched by a tree and you're about to head inside, but the sound of hooves approaching startles you. You hide behind the tree, not providing much cover, but hopefully enough so you can decide how to approach the incoming stranger. If it's a lawman then you can simply burst into tears whilst saying that the horse bolted and you couldn't steer it up into Rhodes, and if it's a fellow gang member then you'll be fine. Well, it is a gang member, just you were hoping for anybody but Micah. He slows Baylock to a halt as you come into his line of sight, stepping out from behind the tree looking like an angry kitten.  "You alright?" Micah asks, swinging his leg over the saddle and hopping off his mount.  "Go away, go find somewhere else to hide. Shoo," you wave your hands at him, only making Micah laugh instead. "What's a matter? Can't I hide here with you?" he questions as he approaches you.  "No, you can't. Go bother someone else, you're the last person I'd ever want to hide from the law with," you huff. Micah isn't budging, he continues to approach you until he's stood in front of you, grinning from ear to ear as he lets out that awful chuckle of his.  "You don't mean that. Besides, how're you gonna defend yourself without your guns, huh?" Micah questions, resting his hands on his gunbelt. "Well, you know that I can swing a punch, can't you, Micah?" you tease, giving him a smug smile which wipes the grin off his face, turning into a frown.  "And here I was just tryna look out for you. Nasty thing, aren't you?" Micah spits.  "I am, and I ain't welcoming to you, Micah," you huff again, resting your hands on your hips.  "Now, I'm gettin' real sick of the way you talk to me, girl. I ain't been nothin' but nice to you," Micah tuts, taking another step towards you. He's pressed up far too close to your chest, puffing his own out as his icy blue eyes scowl into yours. "You may be a big girl in the eyes of Dutch, but you ain't to me."  "I don't care, Micah. I don't need your approval, nor your company, so scram!"  This time, Micah goes for you, reaching out to grip ahold of your arm. He takes a firm grasp of you but before you can find out what he was planning on doing, you're pushing him away, shoving him back by the chest. He stumbles backwards but doesn't slump to the ground, catching his own fall as he glares at you. His death glare makes your face turn sour and you begin to foresee that one of you isn't going to make it back to camp. Micah lunges for you again, grabbing onto your shoulders as he begins to try and tackle you to the ground. You manage to shove him off and land a punch to the same cheekbone, only it's not enough to stop him. He continues to fight you, eventually managing to shove you to the floor. He tries to climb onto you, attempting to pin you to the ground but you land a swift kick to his baby balls. He lets out a choke as his body goes limp and you jump at the opportunity to shove him onto his back, pinning him down instead.  Micah attempts to grab onto you but you're quick, taking his own knife from its holster and pinning it beneath Micahs chin. He stops, freezing up and removing his hands from you, lying in the dirt with his swollen eye locked onto yours. There's silence, no words spoken from either of you, just heavy panting and the sound of the trees rustling. Micah licks his lips, tasting the blood that has trailed down from his nose, and eventually speaks.  "Go on, girl. Do it," he tells you, his Adam's apple bouncing against the blade as he speaks. You don't reply, so Micah jumps down your throat again. "I said do it! Show me what a big girl you are," he says with a laugh. "If I am to kill you then I'd rather do it with my bare hands," you spit at him, pressing the knife sharply on his neck. From the way Micah attempts to flinch back, you're certain you've managed to cut him. Good, he deserves it.  "Do it then. Go on, get rid of me already. Just do everyone a favour," Micah replies, his hands raising yet again, doing that generic innocent pose even as he has a knife held to his throat. As much as you'd love to, you know the consequences for killing other camp members. You could say he died in combat but Dutch knows that Micah can take on a bunch of Lemoyne Raiders with his eyes closed. Plus, it's far too suspicious for you to be the one breaking the 'bad' news. But you might as well scare some sense into Micah, maybe choke him unconscious then bail back to camp before he can wake. Hopefully, he'll finally get it into his thick skull to stay away from you, though you doubt it, but at least you'll have fun.  You remove Micahs own knife from his neck, stabbing it into the earth beside his head. He watches you with wide eyes, attempting to look at his knife but you grip onto his throat. You know how to choke someone to death, and you know how to choke someone unconscious, so you go for the second option and tighten your grip under his jawline, avoiding his windpipe so that he doesn't stop breathing.  He lets out a choked exhale as you begin jabbing your fingers into his throat, pushing more than hard enough to eventually knock his lights out. You know you look a mess, covered in dirt with scruffed up hair, a glare on your face that could easily kill a man; Micah looks up at you through half-lidded eyes, keeping his gaze locked onto yours as he attempts to breathe. You can hear the pressure on his throat with every breath, his lips remaining parted, blood still trickling from his nose, and his eye swelling up more by the second. His clothes are just as dirty as yours, his hat has fallen off his head a long time ago, his white pants are almost brown from rolling in the dirt, and his red shirt is missing a few buttons from where you've grabbed him.  Micahs parted lips quickly turn into a grin as his eyes begin to fall shut. You've never seen him pull a face like this, but he looks... pleasurable. He somehow has enough energy to reach up and grip onto the waistband of your skirt, trailing his fingertips along the band before settling each hand firmly on your hips. He's... enjoying this, isn't he? Your thoughts are confirmed when Micah opens his eyes again; his pupils are blown, wide and full of lust, gazing up at you like a piece of meat, ready to pounce on you (if he could.) You want to feel sick. Why don't you feel sick? Why isn't your stomach turning at the sight of Micah taking pleasure in your attempt to kill him? You push down harder on his neck, wishing you were gripping onto his windpipe instead. His smile eventually fades away, his eyes rolling shut as he lets out slower muffled breaths. His grip on your hips falls limp and you know he's finally unconscious.  This was meant to be the part where you run, heading back to camp before he can wake, praying he never even looks at you ever again. But you remove your hand from his throat, noticing how his body twitches as he begins to breaths properly again, and using the same hand that you just choked him with, you land a harsh slap right across his face. It's loud and sharp enough that it echoes throughout the forest, startling the horses and scaring a few birds away. You instantly regret your decision, your hand throbbing from how hard you slapped him, but the way Micah jolts awake gives you a sickly satisfaction.  He begins coughing, propping himself up on his elbows as he attempts to catch his breath. You don't move off him, sitting back on your knees, his legs beneath yours, watching in delight as he returns to the conscious word. Micah lies back down, his deep breaths eventually turning into a chuckle as his eyes meet yours.  "I knew you were just like me," Micah says with a sniff, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. His nose is still bleeding, turning his moustache red, and now his cheek as he's smeared his own blood across his face. "I knew you were sick..." he laughs.  "I ain't sick, Micah," you frown.  "If you ain't then you won't enjoy this-"  Micah somehow has enough energy to flip your bodies over, pinning you down to the ground, narrowly missing his knife that is still jabbed into the dirt. You attempt to push him off, trying to kick him in the balls again but he's pinned you down as well as you had pinned him down. He does exactly what you feared he'd do, wrapping his own rough hand around your neck, pressing on those spots under your jawline that you unfortunately enjoy.  You try and fight it, attempting to gulp down air, attempting to push him off. But the more you fight him, the more he holds you down, and the more you find yourself enjoying it.  "Give in to it, sweetheart. Just let it happen," he tells you, the words that you didn't want to hear, but only because they're sickly yet tempting.  Micah adjusts his grip and finally hits the nail in the coffin, your mind turning cloudy, the blood pulsating through your brain. That feeling in your stomach begins to burn, trailing down your body and making your pussy clench. You hate this man so much, yet you're allowing him to do this to you. "Atta girl," Micah praises you as you stop fighting him, letting your eyes shut and your mouth part.  You're weak enough for Micah to shift his weight, parting your thighs with his knees and sitting between them after he bunches your skirt up. One hand remains on your neck whilst the under sneaks underneath your waist, pulling your hips up onto his knees. His crotch pushes against yours, his hand trailing over your clothed thigh, moving up to your knee as he adjusts your legs so they're wrapped around his waist. For some reason, you cross your ankles, only encouraging him to grind his crotch against yours, rutting his hard-on against your pussy.  The mewl that escapes your lips is definitely accidental, but Micah tilts his head up to let out a hum of approval as he watches the colour continue to drain from your face. "Such a pretty sound coming from that pretty face of yours. You're goin' pale tho, darlin'. Least you ain't still spittin' venom at me," Micah smirks. The blood from his nose drips down onto your own face, painting your cheek, and the sight of his blood on you makes his pupils turn wide again, licking his lips as he finally removes his hand from your throat.  You gasp, gulping down air, letting out a few coughs as you manage to fill your lungs back up. Micah barely gives you enough time to come back to reality before he's crashing his lips against yours, pinning your hands on either side of your head, grinding his crotch down hard against yours. You let out a whimper as he manages to brush his crotch perfectly against your clit, making him chuckle against your lips as he kisses you. Are you kissing him back? Unfortunately so, but only because the taste of his blood on his lips is making your arousal grow, and he's grinding against you far too perfectly to ignore.  You eventually lap away at his blood, his nosebleed finally coming to a halt, and the feeling of his prickly moustache becomes more and more prominent. It's far too annoying for you to make out with him and ignore it, and it eventually irritates you to a point that you break the kiss.  "What'cha stopping for?" Micah pouts, halting his grinding for the moment. "Your 'stache is too long, it's itchy," you tell him.  "Well, I'll make sure it's trimmed for next time," Micah replies as he rolls his eyes. "There ain't gonna be a next time, Micah," you scowl back.  "Oh, that so?" Micah chuckles, doubting your claim. "Well, I'll just have to make this worthwhile," he informs you.  Micah moves his hands off your wrists, sitting up on his knees and pulling his knife out of the ground. He wipes the dirt off on his jeans then grips onto your undergarments, pulling the fabric away from your skin so he can slice down the crotch, ripping apart the garment and leaving a large hole right in the middle of them. "Micah!" you snap as you sit up on your elbows. "I'll buy you a new pair," Micah monotonously replies, a large lack of sympathy in his voice. You could have sworn he rolled his eyes as well. He holsters his knife and rips apart the hole even more, almost ripping the garment in two, exposing your pussy for his pleasure. Micah hums in appreciation as he gazes at the sight, pushing your thighs apart as he dips his head down and spits onto your folds. You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it, and Micah picks up on the glisten in your eyes as he straightens his back up and begins to unfasten his pants, leaving his gunbelt on the ground beside you.  Micah pulls out his cock, an average looking one, rock hard and flushed pink at the tip. You're surprised that his pubes are neatly trimmed, just as dirty blonde as his hair, but he keeps his pubes neater for whatever reason. He ruts his cock over your folds, slicking himself up with his spit and your juices; to say you aren't wet is also a lie, you've been soaking the second he put his hand around your throat.  Micah finally pushes into you, slow and steady, letting out an "ooh" once he's fully sheathed inside of you. "It's always tighter if I don't finger you," he comments, licking his lips as he moves his hands underneath each knee, spreading your legs apart as far as he wants. Why are you allowing this man to fuck you? You're not sure, though you don't regret it, especially when he begins to thrust into you, surprising you with the way he rolls his hips, the tip of his cock hitting that spot inside of you with every thrust. If someone had told you this morning that you'd end up spending the evening with Micah Bell thrusting inside of you, after the two of you had had a fight and ended up aroused by it, then you probably would have punched them too after informing them that they're drunk. But here you are, allowing Micah to fuck you senseless, pounding you into the dirt as he lets out surprisingly pleasant sounds. "Shit!" you gasp as Micah shifts his weight, moving his hands off your knees to wrap around your waist. He pulls you up into his lap, lifting your ass off the floor and angling your body perfectly so he's directly hitting your g-spot with every roll of his hips. Micah's fucking you like a rabbit, fast and unforgiving, eager to make your walls tighten around him so he can fill you up with his cum.  Micah begins to bare his teeth, hissing through them as he pounds you. You're a moaning mess beneath him, not holding back on the volume of your moans as nobody is nearby, and your volume level is filling Micahs ego more and more by the second. "That's a good girl," he tells you, his hazy eyes meeting yours. "I always knew you'd be a good fuck, the feisty ones always are," he chuckles.  You roll your eyes at his comment, making him laugh instead. Ugh. That stupid laugh of his, the one he always drags out only because he knows it gets on everyone's nerves. You think fast, moving one hand back onto his throat to cut that dreadful sound out. His lips remain parted, slightly smiling as he continues to fuck you, enjoying that irritated glisten to your eyes. You tighten your grip on his throat, forcing a choked moan from Micahs lips. Micah's already hunched over you but you pull him down to your level, speaking right against his lips as you order him to "fuck me harder." "With pleasure," Micah manages to reply, gasping and straightening his back the second you let go of his throat. Micah keeps one arm underneath your waist, holding you firmly on his lap, whilst the other moves between your legs. His hand rests on your stomach, his thumb moving down to begin massaging your clit, flicking the bud in circles, his cock throbbing every time your muscles begin to shake. He's returned to letting out moans, followed by the occasional grunt through gritted teeth. You've seen Micah come undone before, you've seen that feral look in his eyes as he loses his cool and guns down an army of people. But this? This was a different look, just as feral but fueled by a mixture of lust and spite. Is he just using you for a fuck? Yes, but you're doing the same with him. And do you think you'll end up fucking him again? Possibly, but only if you can watch the life drain from his face again. It's sickeningly arousing, but Micah seems to enjoy it too. "You're gonna make me cum," you sigh, your thigh muscles beginning to shake, your eyes scrunching shut as your head rolls back in the dirt. "I know," Micah confidently replies, rubbing his thumb even firmer against your clit. What a cocky piece of shit, though you admire the confidence. You can't believe you're moaning his name as you orgasm, panting and shaking, wrapping your legs even tighter around Micahs waist as he pushes his cock deep inside of you and earns his own release. His hands grip onto your hips, his forehead eventually slumping on your chest as he pants and groans, filling you up with god knows how many months worth of cum, maybe longer, depending on whoever else has been stupid enough to sleep with him.  Micah eventually straightens his back and pulls out of you, letting your legs slip from around his waist as you untangle your body from his. He looks debauched, his hair and clothes scruffy and dirty, not to mention the dried blood smeared across his face and moustache. You're certain you look just as bad, spending your evening rolling about in the dirt with the man you hate the most. Hate? Or hated? as you somewhat like the sight of Micah like this. Maybe you could tolerate him under these terms, and only under these terms. You attempt to sort your appearance out as you stand up, stretching your legs, hearing your knees click after being bent for so long. Micah does the same as he pulls himself up, tucking his cock away then picking his hat up. He whistles for Baylock who had wandered off into the forest, probably not wanting to be around... that. The horse you'd stolen has managed to unhitch itself and disappear, and you honestly don't blame them, but that means the only way back is hitching a ride off Micah or walking for an hour.  "Looks like you're riding with me," Micah tells you. "I don't want to be seen trailing into camp with you, not when we both look like this," you tell him as he mounts Baylock.  "How's about I drop you off on the edge of camp then spend a few hours away? Would that make you happy?" Micah offers, holding out his hand at the same time.  "It would," you tell him, swatting his hand away and climbing up onto Baylock on your own terms. "So, you'll let me fuck you but won't even take my hand?" Micah chuckles as he clicks his tongue, letting Baylock go at a soft pace as you ride side-saddle.  "Yep, and don't forget that you owe me new underwear," you remind him.  "Oh, I won't forget to buy you some new panties, Miss. I'll buy you a whole set of lingerie if it means I get to cut it off your body," Micah teases but you know he's serious.  "If that's what you want," you reply with a shrug.  "You'd let me?" he questions, peering over his shoulder at you.  "I would," you reply. For some reason, you lick your thumb and attempt to wipe some of the dried blood from his cheek. Maybe the sight bothers you, but Micah doesn't seem to mind as he lets you clean him up, his eyes occasionally flicking onto the road.  "You wanna give me a kiss when you're done with cleaning me up?" Micah asks with a smirk.  "No," you frown, pushing his face away from yours. He laughs as he looks forward, returning his focus back to driving.  You and Micah don't speak another word on the short journey back, apart from a "thanks," from you as you slide off Baylock. He drops you on the edge of the forest, letting you walk down the path back into Clemens Point. You manage to sneak back into the camp; the only person who saw you in your state was Charles who simply said "I won't ask," when you gave him a look that said 'please don't.'  You feel much better once you've cleaned yourself up and got cozy in bed, though your body aches from fucking in the dirt, and you're almost certain you're going to have bruises around your neck by the time morning is here. But the fresh memory of having hate sex with Micah only seems to arouse you again; just like Micah said, you are sick, just as sick as him. But if this unspoken arrangement is a good way of letting out anger then why not continue it?  --------------- It's been a week since your accidental encounter with Micah. He's still not replaced your underwear, nor has he spoken a word to you, but you've picked up on those disgustingly arousing glances he sends you from across the camp. You've been tempted to chew his ear out about not paying you back yet, but he's not been in camp often, and when he has been in camp, it's been during the day and around others. The bastard knows what he's doing, and he definitely knows that you're still angry that he hasn't repaid you yet. You've been assigned guard duty tonight, doing lap after lap around the outskirts of the camp until 3am, which is when you can tap Bill awake and send him on his way to take over. Well, 3am is here and that's exactly what you're doing, prodding Bill awake and handing him the shotgun.  You somehow didn't notice that Baylock had appeared amongst the horses, but you do notice that distinct white hat on the edge of camp. Micahs stood on the beach, looking out at the water with his arms crossed, a cigarette between his fingers. Finally, the opportunity to chew his ear off. You stroll over, ensuring nobody else is awake, not wanting to question why you're eagerly approaching the man you despise.  "Micah," you greet as you stand next to him.  "There she is, just the girl I was looking for," Micah greets you as he exhales his cigarette smoke.  "You ain't looking for me, Micah. You're stood here having a smoke," you roll your eyes.  "I was hoping I would have fucked that attitude out of you. Seems I ain't fucked you hard enough," he says with a laugh. You peer over your shoulder, reminding yourself that nobody is awake, nor nearby, but you don't want to risk your chances. "We don't talk about that in camp, alright?" you threaten. "Fine, whatever you want," Micah shakes his head as he finishes off his cigarette, flicking it onto the floor and stomping it out. You're about to begin questioning him on your missing underwear but he begins to walk off, heading further along the beach.  "Where are you going?" you scowl as you follow him.  "Over here so I can sit down. Was gonna ask if you're joining me but it seems you are," he says with a laugh, leaning back against a large boulder. You frown at him but settle beside him, turning your attention to him again.  "I only came over here to ask you-"  "-s'on your bedroll," Micah tells you.  "What?" you question.  "That new underwear I promised, I've just placed it on your bedroll whilst you were on guard duty. Plus a little something extra to make up for how long you've waited for it," Micah answers, his eyes fixated on the water.  "Hmm..." you ponder, unsure if you believe him.  "What? Don't you trust me?" Micah questions as he finally looks over at you.  "Not at all," you scowl again.  "Well, you'll see that I'm telling the truth sooner or later. Go check now if you want, I don't care," he shrugs.  You stare at him again, trying to look for any signs of lying, but he gives you none; his nose doesn't twitch, his eyes stay glued to yours, he doesn't rub the back of his neck. Micah is probably telling the truth, knowing that you'll whack him over the head with a bottle next time you see him if he lies to you.  "See, told you I ain't lying," Micah snickers as he looks back out over the water. You don't reply, you just lean back against the rock and turn your attention to the landscape. Your brows remain furrowed, arms loosely crossed, enjoying the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, the moonlight only just providing enough light as you're far enough from camp.  A few minutes pass and Micah turns his attention back to you. "Why're you still here?" he bluntly asks.  "I ain't sure, I'm going to bed," you shrug. You begin to stand, barely getting off your ass when Micah reaches out and grabs you by the waist, pulling you back down onto his lap with a slight thud. "What do you want?" you snap, picking his hands off your waist in disgust, making him laugh at the sight.  "Just wanted to spend some quality time with my favourite camp member," he replies, though you're unsure if he's being sarcastic. "Well, you ain't my favourite," you huff.  "Always so feisty towards me, ain'tcha? What's wrong? You still hate me even after you let me fuck you?" Micah questions with a throaty laugh, grinning from ear to ear.  "I hate you even more now," you tell him, shuffling about on his lap until you're straddling him, one leg on either side of his hips, your chests almost touching.  "That'd explain why you've just got comfortable on my lap rather than walking away," Micah chuckles again, knowing he's damn well in the right. He slips his hat off his head, placing it on the ground beside him, not wanting it to get in the way. You let out a sigh as you roll your eyes. "Ain't I allowed to just take some attention from you, Micah?" you question, batting your lashes and removing the frown from your face.  "You're allowed to take whatever you want from me, s'long as I get something in return," Micah tells you as he wraps his arms loosely around your waist. "So it's agreed? That we'll just... enjoy this pity sex? But only because it lets off some steam," you place the offer down, finally trying to decide on this agreement.  "It is agreed, sweetheart. You can call it pity sex or whatever else you want, but maybe I'll just fuck you so good that you'll end up likin' me?" Micah chuckles, pulling you onto his lap more as he speaks to you in a husk tone. "I ain't your sweetheart and I ain't ever gonna like you, Micah Bell," you spit. "Sure you ain't," he grins. So, this is what it's come to. You're sleeping with the enemy, pity fucking the man you hate the most, allowing him to pry into your private life and between your legs just for a little bit of satisfaction. Do you care? No. Should you care? Probably. But you're getting pleasure, finally, after waiting for so long. The gang is always on the move, running from the law and whoever else is chasing you, depending on where you are and who you've pissed off. You've flirted with other gang members before but it's never escalated anywhere, so if sleeping with Micah means you'll finally stop humping your pillow every night then why not?  And maybe you can fuck some sense into him, maybe a bit of kindness of basic respect? You doubt it, but it'd be nice. A life where Micah isn't chaotic would be perfect, or one where he entirely didn't exist. But this is the way the world currently is, so you'll just have to make do with what you've got.  You're still going to bark back at him whenever he kicks up a fuss in camp. If anything, you're eager to put him in his place. Maybe you can punish him every time he steps out of line? Maybe this... enemies with benefits, or whatever you want to call it, could whip Micah into shape and prevent him from being such an annoyance towards everyone. Probably not, but you can still hope.  Micah tightens his grip around your waist as he lets out a pleasing hum, tugging you down to his level so he can kiss you. You're reluctant as his moustache was so irritating last time, but to your surprise, Micah has trimmed it to prevent the irritation, his 'stache brushing against your upper lip rather than prickling it. Micahs kisses are a lot more tender this time, not covered in blood and heavy breathing, not battling for dominance whilst both your minds are hazy from all that choking. Micah moves one hand up to entangle his fingers in your hair, cupping the back of your head.  Your lips soon slide open, your tongue greeting Micahs. He bites your bottom lip softly, letting the skin slowly slip from his grasp before kissing you again, earning himself a soft moan as you shuffle onto his lap more. Things are slowly turning heated, Micahs kisses getting sloppier yet firmer by the second, drawing more moans and whimpers from your lips as he continues to make out with you.  You pray that nobody has woken up, not wanting them to see... this. How would you attempt to explain this? Could you say you tripped and fell into Micah after not seeing him sat there, and you'd just accidentally kissed him on the way down? Could you say this way a new way of fighting, to show him what he's missing out on if he'd just be a good boy? Yeah, those excuses are rubbish. But you're sure you'd hear anyone approaching, not unless they're stealthy.  Micah moves his hands to your chest, unbuttoning your shirt, stopping at your lower ribs. He breaks the kiss so he can pull your shirt open, cupping each of your breasts and leaning his head into them. His mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking at it surprisingly gently, flicking his tongue over the nub, tenderly kissing it. His hand massages them, kneading them softly. Micah moves onto your other nipple, repeating the process, sucking on your tits as he lets out a satisfying hum.  "I ain't sure what my favourite part of you is, these things, or that nasty bite of yours," Micah says with a soft laugh between kisses. "Oh, you have such a way with words," you roll your eyes. "You know, I think we'd get along much better if you'd just tease me with these things in camp," Micah replies, returning his focus to your breasts. "I'll remember that in the future," you say, making a mental note. Maybe you could find a way to manipulate him? Using your womanly charm to tame this beast? It's a push but it's worth a try. He continues to suck at them, making your arousal grow, and you know he's getting aroused as you can feel it pressed against your thigh. Micah moves off your breasts and gently pulls your head down, enjoying another kiss, still tender, not the style you expected a man such as Micah to have.  Micah breaks the kiss, urging you off him. "Now, come on. Before I start thinkin' with my dick and fuck you right in the middle of camp. But you'd like that, wouldn't you, you whore?" he questions, buttoning up your shirt for you.  "You admit to thinking with your dick, yet I'm the whore?" you smirk, pointing out the flaw to his logic.  "Real smart, ain'tcha girl?" Micah mocks, shooing you off his lap once your shirt is fastened. Micah stands first, pulling you up afterward. His hand lingers for a little too long in yours, though you don't move your hand away either. He begins walking with you back to camp, readjusting his hat as he walks. Micah dips before you approach camp, not wanting to risk anybody latching onto your agreement. Thankfully, nobody is awake, but you head straight to your tent anyway. You fasten the tent flaps behind you, lighting your lantern, and begin getting ready for bed. You notice the tailor box on your cot and open it up, revealing the replacement underwear, as well as the 'little something extra' that Micah had promised you. It's a full set of lingerie, an expensive-looking set too, a frilly white chemise, corset, and stockings. The chemise is definitely that short for a reason; you wonder what Micah's planning, though he did say that he wanted to cut it off you. You hope to at least get some use out of it before he does that.

[stewartsjaymes]

gifs and ships

I was tagged by @pichitinha to describe my ships using gifs!

1. First Ship - Ana / Danilo (Chocolate com Pimenta)

soap operas are a huge thing here in Brazil (the mexican ones were my favorites! they’re a classic around here if you are keen to drama). but the first couple I remember rooting for is from a brazillian one. they had a lot of winning tropes: angst, slow burn (kinda), they had a son and she didn’t tell him.... yep, that’s good lol

2. First OTP - Diego / Roberta (Rebelde)

remember when I told you mexican soap operas were dramatic? well... Rebelde had three seasons (with more than 100 episode... EACH), so you can imagine how much drama and slow burn I had to put up with lol

the soap opera and the band (RBD, if you don’t know) were the first things I can remember being truly a fan. I still love them (the band split up almost 13 years ago and the original airing of rebelde ended back in 2006). roberta and diego are the definition of enemies to lovers (and back to enemies... and then to lovers once again haha). they were pure chaotic energy, I love it! it’s one of my fav ships ever and it’ll always be ♥

3. Current fav ship - Betty / Jughead (Riverdale)

bughead exes to lovers 2021 let’s goooooo!!! they are truly iconic. imagine not shipping this excellence? cannot relate *inserts shrug emoji here*

(ps: this kiss is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen... better than a lot of sex scenes we’ve seen in this show hehe)

4. Your Ship Since the First Minute - Alex / Piper (OITNB)

I didn’t even know what lovers to enemies to lovers was but those lesbos gave me everything I didn’t even knew I needed lol (I didn’t even finish oitnb but they always be one of my wlw ships)

5. You Wish They Had Been Endgame - Simon / Alisha (Misfits)

this one will ALWAYS bring me pain. ugh. so good and so sad! a broody/emo boy + bad girl? yes sign me up.

(also house/cuddy from house m.d)

6. You Wish They Had Been Canon - Draco / Hermione (Harry Potter) AND Rachel / Santana (Glee)

JK had the opportunity to give us one of the most iconic enemies to lovers couples ever and fucked it up so yep...... hp canon story? (keke palmer’s voice) he could be walking down the street, I wouldn’t know a thing.

faberry who? please, pezberry had THE enemies to lovers feat. hate fuck energy we deserved to see. no I don’t make the rules and yes you are wrong if you don’t ship them.

7. Most of the Fandom Hates, but You Love - Finn / Rachel (Glee)

this one is so close to my heart! I didn’t even finish glee because it became a shit show and I couldn’t watch after Cory’s passing, but finn and rachel were IT for me since day 1. ALL of my friends hated finchel on twitter bc they shipped faberry, but here on tumblr, I found so many artists that gave me tons of gifs and fanfics hehe

8. You Don’t Even Watch the Show, but You Ship Them Anyways - Clarke / Lexa (The 100)

yep.

9. You Wish They Had a Different Storyline - Callie / Arizona (Grey’s Anatomy)

the cheating storyline was the beginning of the end for me, they destroyed a PERFECT ship. I still don’t accept that. justice for may babies (they are kinda [?] endgame but the writers did them SO DIRTY!)

10. Fav Ship That is Endgame - Chuck / Blair (Gossip Girl)

iconic shit right here, I don’t even need to explain. 

tagging @feisty-aquarius4, @dreamingofbughead, @aresaphrodites, @courtaa​, @stonerbughead​ and whoever wants to participate! (@pichitinha​ if you want to make a book edition with gifs or maybe fanarts... so I’m tagging you again! haha)

[just-absolutely-super]

Don’t Stop When You Get That Feeling Now

@soulxmakaweek (tagging the blog because i don’t trust tumblr’s faulty tagging system)

Trying my hand at SoMa Week this year. Here’s the first prompt: Dare.

Summary: In which Black Star gives Maka a challenge during a game of Truth or Dare.

FF.net // AO3

Maka felt her eye twitch. She really hated it when Black Star roped her into these silly games…

"C'mon, Maka. Truth or Dare?" the assassin asked. He had a large, cocky grin on his face that gave Maka the urge to punch it right off.

She sighed, knowing that whatever she picked was not going to end with her dignity intact. Should she pick truth, Black Star would make her confess to every embarrassing detail about her life possible. And should she pick dare, no doubt he'd force her into some silly stunt that would end in bruises—be it her pride or her actual skin, you never know with Black Star's dares…

Despite this, she knew when she was being challenged. She wasn't one to back down from a challenge, her blue haired friend would never let her live it down otherwise.

"Dare." She said, confidence in her voice.

Black Star cackled, an evil glint in his eyes. He placed a hand to his chin as he exaggeratedly thought over what dare he could make his poor friend perform. Maka scowled as she waited for him to make up his mind.

It seemed the other party guests were getting impatient too. Kid had his arms crossed, a finger tapping his forearm—his blank stare had some warning in it, like he was waiting to intervene should Black Star go too far with his dares. Liz looked rather bored, studying her nails as she glanced back up every now and then to make sure she didn't miss anything. Patty sat next to her, fighting off giggles as she tried to remain serious in anticipation for the self-proclaimed God's dare.

The only ones who weren't present for the game were Soul and Tsubaki and that was because they offered to do a snack run when it became apparent the scythe meister and her weapon's pantries were looking rather bare.

Maka regretted not offering to go with them. Picking out a variety of junk food would have been so much better than waiting for the maniac she called her childhood friend to seal her fate with an outlandish dare.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Black Star placed his fist into his open palm.

"Alright, I got it! The best dare for our little Maka!"

Maka bristled. So it didn't look like she was going to grow anymore despite being in her late teens. The jackass didn't have to rub it in.

"Just get on with it already." She growled.

"Prepare yourself, Maka! I, the great Black Star, dare you to…"

Ugh, he was really milking this wasn't he? What was he waiting for, a drum roll?

Idiot…

"Kiss the most attractive person in this room!" he finished, a satisfied grin on his face.

Everyone in the room gawked at him.

"That's… That's it?" she asked, not sure if she should be on high alert for a follow up dare.

Liz smirked, rubbing her hands together, "Oh, Truth or Dare just got a little more interesting. I'm eager to see which of us you find attractive, Maka."

She and her sister shared a laugh and Maka felt her cheeks burn.

"This is a rather tame dare, Black Star." Kid pointed out. He too looked as if he were expecting the assassin to pull a fast one.

"Believe me, I have a ton of dares in mind for tonight." Black star said, chuckling darkly, "But I felt I should start out small before working my way up to the big ones. And knowing Maka, what's more humiliating that being forced to kiss someone in front of everyone."

Maka felt a vein pop as Black Star laughed boisterously. She felt her fingers twitching for a book. Of course Black Star was aiming to embarrass her. He knew she had never had a boyfriend therefore couldn't have possibly kissed anyone before. And considering Maka tended to over-think everything, she'd probably be a bundle of nerves at the thought of kissing someone in front of everybody—especially since they would know she found them attractive.

The only problem that stuck out in her mind, though, was the fact that the one person she really did find attractive was currently not in the room and therefore did not meet the dare requirements.

Someone strike her down where she stood, please.

Before she could make a split decision (either chop Black Star's brains open or just bite the bullet and kiss the next available person in the room who she considered attractive), she heard the door swing open.

"We're back." Came the lazy voice of her weapon.

"Sorry we're late!" Tsubaki said as she made her way into the kitchen, "We weren't sure what snacks everyone wanted and I noticed Maka and Soul were almost out of eggs and juice, so we went ahead and bought some more necessities for the apartment."

"Oh, thanks." Maka said distractedly. She felt anxious, eyeing the living room's entryway and Black Star—who was still giving her that annoying grin as he raised his eyebrows in a "Well?" gesture.

"Did we miss anything?" Soul asked as he walked into the room, depositing multiple bags of different flavored chips onto the coffee table. As he raised his head up to survey the room he noticed that everyone—particularly his meister—was staring at him.

He gave them a perplexed look, "What? Something on my face?"

Maka whirled around to Black Star, "Same conditions apply to the dare?"

She didn't care what this would be indicating to her friends. Didn't bother to think of the repercussions, really. She had the opportunity right in front of her—she was gonna take it!

Black Star smirked, knowing exactly what Maka was thinking. He waved his hand in Soul's general direction, "Same conditions apply."

"What are you—?"

Before Soul could ask any more questions, Maka jumped off of her seat and bounded over to him. There was a determined glint her in eyes as she stared her weapon down. Soul stared blankly back.

"I was dared to do something and I want to do it with you. Is that okay?" Well, she figured she'd ask first…

Her weapon tilted his head, one eyebrow raised, "Uhh, sure, I guess, but what—"

He was cut off when Maka suddenly grabbed the lapels of his leather jacket and pulled him down to her level. Everyone else in the living room were on the edges of their seats, only to sag in crushing disappointment when they saw that instead of Maka planting her lips on Soul's, she instead went for his cheek.

With an audible smack, Maka pulled away from her weapon's face. She groaned in embarrassment as she hid her burning face into her hands in hopes that she could spontaneously turn invisible.

"Lame!" Black Star complained. "I was expecting some major lip action, Maka!"

Maka uncovered her face briefly to glare at him, "You just said I had to kiss the most attractive person in the room. You never said where I had to kiss them!"

Kid snorted, "She's got a point, Black Star."

Black Star grumbled, "Whatever. But I'll get you next time, I swear on my God status."

Maka stuck her tongue out at him. She then felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she gave a small squeak when she was faced with Soul. Oh crap, she forgot about him. She felt shame take over her. Even though he told her she could do whatever it was she wanted to do to him, she still felt like maybe she had breached his trust in some way.

She avoided eye contact, waiting for him to reprimand her for jumping him and thus humiliating him in front of all their friends.

"You missed."

Huh?

"Huh?" she voiced.

Soul indicated to the cheek she had just kissed, which had taken on a rosy hue she noticed. "You missed."

She raised an eyebrow at him. What was he getting at? He should have heard what she told Black Star, that the condition was to kiss someone, but it wasn't specified where exactly. He should have known her aim was to kiss his cheek to make things less awkward between them.

So why was he…

Ooooh.

"Umm," she started, trying to be coy and keep her cool even though that ship had long since sailed since she agreed to the dare, "where should I have gone, then?"

Her weapon gave her a lopsided grin, "Here. Let me show you…"

He took her face and guided it to his, molding his lips firmly over hers. Maka sighed, feeling lightheaded and giddy as her weapon kissed her.

"Hell yeah! That's what I'm talking about!"

"Black Star, hush! I'm trying to enjoy this!" Liz scolded, taking out her phone to capture the moment.

Patty laughed as she clapped her hands in delight while Kid gave a pleased sigh.

It was then that Tsubaki came into the living room from the kitchen. Her jaw dropped open as she stared flabbergasted at the scene of Maka and Soul snogging in the middle of the living room while everyone else practically applauded them like some cheesy romcom movie. The game of Truth or Dare long forgotten in favor of said development.

She blinked, "What did I miss?"

[olivieblake]

... I'm sorry, my message was too long and I couldn't be bothered to split it up LOL.

I just read Paradox and it was?? a masterpiece??? But I saw in the FFN comments that you said on your Tumblr that it was controversial oh yeah a lot of people had a lot of issues with it (the fuck) so I had to come here to (1) see and (2) spread some more love bc YOU ARE TOO TALENTED LMAO

AU Hermione was iconic as hell, and I loved her!! this is a very unpopular opinion and I appreciate it very much—she’s the primary reason this fic got so much negativity; people who chose to see her as purely a romantic rival for potterverse!Hermione decided to be v mean about her I actually preferred both AU characters initially - both Hermione and Draco - but tbf I love morally gray characters in general. Like that scene with her knife to Draco’s throat, can I say sexy??? yes like can you blame him? And the conflict with Voldemort, the fact that she took charge, my god. I am obsessed with literally everyone in your story and that is all I need to say 

You even got me to ship Jilly and while I’m not a Snilly shipper, I literally hate every man from Lily’s time so like. The fact that your writing actually got me to ship Lily with James of all people. I’m dead. Also I kind of loved James. That scene where he talks about Draco. I think I read it like 10 times bc I loved it so much I definitely think that’s one of my most memorable scenes from the fic

Actually there’s like at least 30 subchapters that I read about 10 times in a row, it made me take at least twice as long to read the fic as I normally would have

Admittedly both the originals grew on me, and I ended up preferring them; especially since new Draco was MIA for most of the latter half HA.

And also because – old Hermione did grow a lot more confident, and the fact that she stole the kiss, her entire realization about confidence and seizing what you want, I DIED 

And I also need to add your prose is BEAUTIFUL your dialogue is BEAUTIFUL your banter is BEAUTIFUL your characterization is BEAUTIFUL. I rambled about all this already in FFN comments but just. BEAUTIFUL. I appreciated the comments very much and am very happy to hear it!!

I’ve actually been in the worst reading slump for the past - year, actually LOL. it happens Nothing I’ve read has really seized me until Paradox - and honestly it did, woooo! it grabbed me from the very first chapter, and it was in part due to the hook (“wtf is goin on with hermione”) and in part due to, just, ugh, your writing, delicious. And then it just kept getting BETTER??? I was like “wow how does she do this” and then I was too busy gaping and screaming to ask that question anymore 

And that kiss??? May I say, the kiss at the end, it was. Perfect. I can’t. Not only was it beautifully written in general, but also, the moment with Draco’s recognition - the moment with him going *oh*, xyz, *oh*, that was so rhythmical on top of beautiful and I just. I screamed. definitely one of my favorite scenes I’ve ever written, thank you. writing it was a dream

I’m sorry I turned this ramble into an entire essay but basically

Love

I’m so excited to read Nobility and Lady Vengeance and actually everything you’ve ever written lmfao

Actually I’m pretty sure I slept on Nobility bc it was “eventual Dramione” according to tags but with the way you write Draco (even the original) and his intensity (see below) I just. I am willing to raze my Tomione heart to ashes haha. well, I do think part of the reason you were able to enjoy this fic more than some of the early readers is because you may have come in with a more open mind? certain dramione fans were…. upset, to say the least, about the two being paired up with the “wrong” versions. regardless I’m happy to hear it

I also really love the way you write Pansy based on your Sirius fic so. Ugh. I’m very excited like you don’t even know

Also old Draco’s intensity in the final half/third of the story I can’t

He went from “very canon Draco who works well with Sexy Hermione” to me going laksjdf;asjkdfdjkdskskskskskks 

literally just

Draco: *stares silently at Hermione for five seconds, except written beautifully*

me: *dramatic swooning only it’s bc I actually fainted bc ur draco is a treasure and i am WEAK* wonderful

also the reconciliation scene at the end. so perfectly written; it was inevitable I’d love the one between old draco and new hermione, but I also loved the one following; it was – both meaningful and oddly sweet and – nostalgic, I think, is the word I’m looking for aw that’s nice

and that reminds me

you are SO GOOD at setting atmosphere it’s just – I feel like that’s one of the hardest things to write, is atmosphere, and yet. You do it so seamlessly in such an impeccable way to the point that I just got swept away by the story before I even realized it and just. ugh. thank you! all of this is very nice to hear

Your writing is amazing thank you

Also I’m sorry I didn’t mean to ramble quite this hard LOL it happens to the best of us. thanks so much for reading and reviewing!! I appreciate it IMMENSELY and I’m always especially happy to hear someone enjoys this story in particular

[jensungf]

10 questions tag pt.2

hoo boi okay so ive been tagged in this a lot so im going to split it up into parts but this is alr a lot to read so if u read all of this u deserve a cookie so reply back with cookie and ima send u kithes and hugs

thank u to every who tagged me!! @byunbaekby @neocitybynight @bumblebeenct

aurora’s questions (these r from awhile back hehe

what’s your favorite dish from your culture?

i like phở gà (chicken noodle soup) or bún bò huế (hhh idk it in english)

vegetables or fruit?

fruits? i don’t like either

what’s the last book you’ve read and did you like it?

i think i had to read frankenstein for decathalon before corona hit and no i did not ugh

what inscription would you like on your tombstone?

heart nutted too hard or leyna [redacted] ; jk i actually dont know, i guess in loving memory leyna her love shall forever be remembered thru photographs bc even when the people change, the memories still stay or something (my brain is chaotic rn)

what should they teach in high school but do’t?

definitely financial literacy and how to do taxes and whatnot

who would you most like to sit next to on a 10 hours flight and why?

probs jisung or renjun bc lbr jisung and i would be the type to play smash the entire time and snack (and also if i fell asleep on his shoulder that shit would be so cute omfg) but renjun and i could continue talking for hours hahahah

what skill would you like to master?

cooking/baking!

what movie title best describes your life?

to all the boys i’ve loved before (ok not rly but i couldn’t think of much)

what’s the best way to start your day?

waking up well rested with my outfit planned and no rush getting ready to go eat brunch w my friends

what pets did you have while you were growing up?

i never had any pets hehe i’m allergic and mis padres say no

milly’s questions

where is the favourite place you’ve ever been?

i think i really like the city in toronto!! it’s super aesthetic and the vibes are amazing but i didn’t get to explore :( @longassride kidnap me pls

what is your best school subject, and if it changed drastically why?

it’s always been english haha but i’m not even that good

animated or live action films?

i prefer animated tbh the live action films i’ve seen don’t do any justice

do you play any instruments, how long for?

i play the bassoon and it’s been like 6 years (don’t need fooled i hate it)

have you told anyone irl that you have a blog?

yeah lmao a lot of my irls know and i let some follow me but we dont talk about it too much

favourite social media? 

instagram or tumblr

can you quote me something from your favourite book?

“There comes a time when the world gets quiet and the only thing left is your own heart. So you'd better learn the sound of it. Otherwise you'll never understand what it's saying.” — Just Listen, Sarah Dessen

what was the last tv show you finished in its entirety?

fuck i have no idea i don’t even think ive ever finished a tv show...  oops?

do you have an all time favourite nct fic on this site?

i have many so it’s so hard to choose but one of my all time favs might be @/starlightkun’s ayakashi series for jeno called featherbrain and @lovingyong’s tatbilb series for jaemin. i stayed up until 7am reading featherbrain and i didn’t stop rereading it for a wk bc it was everything i’ve ever liked in one story since i was super into otome games at one point and if i’m being honest, kelsie’s series helped move past a lot of hardships bahahah i could probably quote a few lines honestly bc they mean so much to me 

if you could time travel, when would you go?

the 90s!!

sunny’s questions

If you could pick one artist to soundtrack your life, who would it be?

niki bc she is queen and relatable !!!

If you could have a Magic Eight Ball that really would answer your questions, what would you ask it?

am i going to be happy and successful?If you could bring one cryptid (supernatural creature) to life, what would you choose?

If you could bring one cryptid (supernatural creature) to life, what would you choose?

honestly that’s so hard ugh i might say angels/demons (i know that’s two but the concept has always intrigued me)

Coke or Pepsi?

coke but i don’t like either

What is your guilty pleasure?

otome games hehe but i guess just reading ff/webtoons all the time

If you had a title after your name (e.g. Alexander the Great) what would you want?

leyna the lover or some shit like that haha i rly dont know

Would you rather have a band who narrated all your movements through song or the paparazzi follow you around?

haksjsk i think band bc it doesn’t always have to be a literal narration and paparazzi would expose my every move

If you could be a K-Pop idol, would you be? Whether or not you answer yes, would you date an idol?

no i wouldn’t because it’s too much of a sacrifice to give up everything and dedicate my life to the toxic industry. and personally no i wouldn’t unless i rly loved them and it happened naturally bc it’s again a huge sacrifice and it’s difficult on both ends

When it rains, are you inside watching from the window or outside twirling in the puddles?

inside haha i could never go outside during rain

If you could time travel to any time period, which would you choose?

maybe the late 80s or 90s.. it seemed like a lot of fun to interact with people without technology. drive in movies, cheap candy, rollerskating down the boardwalk, the fashion and music, the vibes

my questions:

what is your usual resting facial expression?

what was your favorite childhood cartoon?

would you ever have kids? if so, do you have any baby names ready?

whats your favorite way to talk to people? (irl, text, call, ft, etc)

what color fits your vibe and why?

what is your preferred way to be comforted? emotional support or finding a solution?

how long have you been on tumblr?

do you wash your clothes right after you buy them or right after you wear them?

do you have an ideal type or any celeb that matches your ideal type?

do you believe in soulmates?

you’re under no obligation to do this but tagging: @lovelyjsuh @nanasarea​ @neolights @jaemallow @jaetyhm @glossyjaems @cherrysung @yongiefilms​  @juyeonzz​ @lovingyong​ @gohyuck​ @longassride​

[iamanartichoke]

Why do you feel that way about fandom? (In regards to your latest reblog)

Ah, I’m not sure if I know how to explain it, but I’ll try. (This got long, so I’m really sorry.)

The thing is, I first got into the Loki fandom early in 2018, so I’m coming up on about two years of being active here. That first year was so fun and exciting; I was elated to be able to discuss my Loki theories and meta with like-minded people, and I was so happy (and surprised!) at the attention my fic was getting.

I was also still at a point where I believed IW was going to blow our minds, so there was that extra kind of thrill of suspense (and a bit of fear but, when you believe in the MCU and haven’t yet lost faith in its writers/directors, the fear is surface-level and adds to the thrill - there’s not really the accompanying dread and despair). 

IW was a crushing blow to that, of course, but even though we were all devastated, we were all devastated as a fandom. We were still in it together; we had one another to vent to and cry with and share fic with. “Loki is alive bc reasons” became kind of an unwritten rule in most post-IW fics; we all agreed that Loki deserved better. 

In 2019, two things happened: one, I was underemployed and dragging my feet on finding better employment due to my mental health, which ruined my life for a little while. I had to move back in with my parents, which (I love them and am grateful they were willing to support me, but) was a toxic environment. I was too depressed to indulge in my escapism the same way (fic and fandom) and my progress on my stories slowed way down. I’ve never quite been able to get back the momentum I had when writing Sanctuary, but that’s another issue. 

The second thing that happened was, obviously, Endgame came out and whatever theories and hopes the fandom was collectively holding onto about Loki were crushed. Not only that, but the portrayal of Thor seemed to amplify the divide in the fandom between the pro/anti Ragnarok argument. 

It seems, to me, that what was a series of battles or skirmishes only became an all-out war after Endgame. That’s only my perception, of course, but I do feel that the latter part of 2019 saw the divide grow larger and larger. Everyone had opinions on what the “correct” portrayal of Thor was, and how it related to Loki, and whether fanon Thor and Loki’s relationship was founded in canon or not. Everyone was defensive of their own point of view; bullying and name-calling and anon hate became more widespread. 

Again, this is just my observation. Those who’ve been on the front lines since Ragnarok came out probably have a much different perspective; I’m only talking about what I observed bc it directly impacts how I feel about fandom these days. 

So here we are in 2020; like I said, I’ve been here about two years. I haven’t rewatched any of the Thor movies in ages (although @delyth88 and I are talking about it), because they make me so sad and also so angry. Sad for what we had, angry for what could have been. So much wasted potential. Loki’s horrific end hangs over everything, as does Thor’s radical character change, and I don’t have the same excited outlook about the characters and the meta potential anymore. 

Not having watched the movies in a long time, along with that feeling of “ugh” around them, impacts me creatively bc I’m not actively feeding my writing inspiration. For me, fanfic writing comes from being so full of feels about the source material that I just can’t get enough and I need more. I draw my inspiration from things like watching Loki’s facial expressions, catching subtle moments between Thor and Loki, analyzing the way they speak, thinking about the story choices happening, and so on, and so on. 

My source of inspiration has dried up, in other words, which has made it hard for me to keep a good writing momentum going. I was feeling great when I rewrote Sea, and then my inspiration kind of plummeted again - this time, bc I felt that I did such a good job rewriting and the response was so positive, I didn’t know if I could finish the rest of the story as well. Like I was already setting up the second half to fail, bc it would be much more “rough draft” than the first - revised and polished, yes, but not gone over with a fine-toothed comb the way the first part was. 

The truth is, I carry a lot of stress and anxiety around my writing. I am always incredibly anxious that no one actually likes my fic, that no one is reading my fic, that people think it’s stupid or pointless, that my quirky humorous touches are ooc, that my plotlines are convoluted and boring and my sex scenes awkward and non-existent. 

I’m having trouble with the Valki relationship bc I haven’t watched Ragnarok in so long, I’ve forgotten how much chemistry was between them and how it made me feel. I’ve forgotten why I chose to pair them up in this ‘verse in the first place. And I worry about that, too - that the people who read my stories for the Valki are walking away unsatisfied. 

So that’s where I am with fic writing - slow and steady, still trying to find my footing, still secretly assuming what I write is shit.

This is on top of feeling more and more isolated on tumblr, mostly because of the aforementioned tensions and overall negativity that’s erupted in the fandom. I have been unfollowed and blocked by people who were once mutuals; I have been blocked by people I’ve never spoken to before. 

There’s so much stress surrounding the things I post now - I’m constantly thinking, have I worded this correctly to convey my meaning without shitting on someone else’s opinion? Is this post going to be the one that makes this or that mutual unfollow me? Am I tagging correctly so my pro Ragnarok mutuals don’t see my criticism, and vice versa? Can I still post pictures of Chris Hemsworth, who is possibly the only man in the world I am definitely attracted to, which is a shame bc I agree that he’s kind of a douche now? But he’s so beautiful, but I have to disclaim that it’s just his face I’m attracted to? If I reblog this post about Loki that I think is hilarious, but is also founded on the flat stabby villain characterization, will I alienate my anti friends? Does it imply I don’t understand or appreciate Loki and that, by reblogging the thing, I’m endorsing a shitty characterization? 

And so on. It makes scrolling my dashboard uncomfortable and un-fun, bc I end up saving tons of posts to my drafts without reblogging them, and after awhile I am not enjoying myself, so I stop scrolling. 

But this means I miss tons of mutuals’ posts, and I was trying to check individual blogs for awhile but I kept falling further behind, and there were more and more posts I’d missed, and I’d get overwhelmed and then feel like they probably hated me anyway at this point for being a shit mutual, so I might as well just keep lurking on the dash for ten minutes and call it a day. 

On top of that, I haven’t read fic in awhile bc of this mindset, so I haven’t commented, and then when I don’t get comments it’s like, well, maybe the story’s not shitty but no one’s reading it bc what do I expect when I’m not reading theirs? You’re not special, Charlotte. 

The worst part about all of this is that none of it should diminish (and hasn’t diminished!) my love of Loki as a character. I am excited about the series, but I am also very anxious about it - about the story not being good, yes, but also about the inevitably divide that will further split the fandom. 

No matter how the story goes, someone’s going to be upset. You can’t please everyone, and trying only makes for worse storytelling. So the wank will continue. 

But I love Loki. I love everything about him. I am interested in writing about him and reading about him and thinking about him. I am invested in him and always will be. It’s just that, right now, I’m kind of falling further and further out of fandom and I find I have less to say. 

And so I either have to wait it out, or work on my own mindset, or keep on keeping on. I just don’t know how long that will take or if I’m even liked enough here to try to bother. 

tl;dr: Fandom has made me cynical and jaded, and it has dampened not my love of Loki, but my love of interacting with the Loki fandom.

(I know you didn’t ask for this hot garbage pile of my feelings, anon, so I’m sorry.) 

[tilliwriteapine]

The Power of Sacrifice

Okay *cracks knuckles*

I’ve had a few months to dwell on this. I think I’ll say something. Of course, I realize I am A: not a popular person in the Star Wars/Reylo fandoms, and B: not trying to change any minds. I just want to say my peace, considering the tags can be overwhelming with negativity. And that’s soul-crushing when you get hyped for a new fandom and it is basically a dumpster fire from the first day. And I have entered plenty of fandoms. Some nicely, some rather unceremoniously, others – regretfully. I’m also not looking for an argument – respectful discussion absolutely encouraged! Don’t go attacking others – and stop abusing the anon function!

I personally love, love, love The Rise of Skywalker. Does it have a shit ton of faults? Oh boy, does it ever. I’m probably still in the anger stage of the five stages of grief, but at the same time, I also have entered acceptance. (And that is only because the fanfiction and artwork post-TROS has been mind-blowingly amazing and wonderful and I cannot get enough of it!!!! I’m itching to get my brain and fingers to write my own!)

Because I love TROS, and honestly the entire sequel trilogy, I have to say something.

I’m deeply sad that the story ended the way it did. The movie as a stand-alone suffers greatly from missing details. I wish they would have just let it be three hours long, giving us a complete story. The last Hunger Games book, the last Harry Potter book, the last Twilight book all were split into two movies to tell the full story. I get why DLF did it in one – trilogy – but they should have had the respect to tell the story to its fullest extent. And from what I have seen of the comics and books, including tie-in novelization, there is so much more content to be gleaned from other sources OTHER than the movie – and that is disappointing. Don’t get me wrong, that sounds very much like a Disney move – money, anyone? But many will not get into the comics or buy the novelization or other books. It ruins what the story should be telling us. We got a disjointed film that paid poor regards to all the actors and every character.

I loved Adam Driver’s portrayal of Ben Solo. It was the most honest, gut-wrenching portrayal I have ever watched (and I’m a Spirk lover on the Trek side of the Stars, also directed by JJ Abrams… sigh). Adam brought everything to a character that has a horrific backstory, and I sob thinking of the pain and anguish of a fictional character. And I now have a newfound love for The Last Jedi when I long didn’t understand it (thank you tumblr for opening my eyes). Adam did a fucking fantastic job for what it is worth. How the writers/director handled Kylo Ren, and ultimately Ben Solo? Poorly. Adam deserved so much better than – THAT!

I think we can all agree we had hoped for something different for Ben. Anything but death. I hate death (and yet I’m A: addicted to it, and B: work with it enough because I’m an oncology nurse certified in hospice and palliative care) and Ben deserved far better treatment. Words would have been nice! (I know Adam is more into the non-verbal talent of acting, but ugh his voice is mesmerizing). A different kind of redemption – atonement for the things Kylo Ren did in terrorizing the galaxy, of finding himself again as Ben Solo, the last living Skywalker who had a chance to change the future of the disastrous history of the Skywalker legacy. An actual relationship with Rey. Oh, and maybe not killing the literal last Skywalker – when the movie is named The Rise of Skywalker. I love you, Rey, but even the Palpatine bit was an awful plot device (she is Rey Nobody, thank you very much. That’s a whole other post about the Palpatine BS…)

But as much as I had hoped for so much more – I’m still okay with Ben Solo’s death. Not in the I’m gonna stop crying everyday kind of okay, but the kind of reassurance that I see where the writers/director went with it and acknowledge the type of redemption and atonement that we got in Ben’s death. Many will argue that death doesn’t serve the purpose of redemption or atonement – and I don’t disagree. And of course, I wish Ben had been able to defeat the raging mental beast that kept him from believing he was loved and could have an actual future – but sometimes we don’t all get that far. As someone who has personally dealt with mental illness for about ten years now, on medication for at least seven of those years, and having been at the brink of suicide in my darkest times (just under five years ago), I get the swirling darkness and difficulty of climbing up out of the mental pit. What does this have to do with me being okay with the ending we were given for Ben Solo? There is SO MUCH that goes into climbing out of that mental pit that plot wise, the writers/director totally didn’t want to deal with it. Which is a fucking cop-out if I have EVER seen one (again, give us a three-hour movie!!! Problem solved -_-). But story wise, it makes sense in avoiding the mental follow-through Ben would need to achieve success post-Exegol, post-war. That excuses nothing – but I get it.

It wasn’t a senseless death in any regard. Many are calling it that, but I disagree that is was senseless. Ben gave his everything to give Rey life. He understood that the galaxy needed her more than it needed him – little lost Ben Solo, a past ravaged by pain, fear, regret, and death. Even in a happy future of long-term atonement and actually having a relationship with Rey, the galaxy deserved Rey more than Ben. That is not a narrative I necessarily agree with – but it is somewhat Ben’s point of view. Again, mentally, Ben had a lot he needed to struggle through – and in a moment when all hope was literally lost (Rey was dead), he took the power of life and death into his own literal hands. 

Rey had shown him compassion and love in a moment of pure hatred when she attempted to kill him (and everyone is up in arms about that, but again, another whole post that isn’t this one), giving him back his life. And even with the novelization saying Rey tried to give him everything of herself, it was evident in the movie that Rey regretted the act of trying to kill him and softly whispered her confession I did want to take you hand… Ben’s hand. Remembering what she had done for him, Ben had nothing left to give her in a time of absolute anguish. Rey was dead. Except – he had himself. A boy ravaged by abuse, lies, and feeling utterly lost in a galaxy that feared him, further pushing him into the persona that became Kylo Ren. Ben Solo returned to being himself, freely himself (without the Kylo Ren mask) in time to realize Rey needed him more than anything else in the entire galaxy. So, he ran to her – literally ran, fought off the Knights of Ren, and came to stand with her against Palpatine. And then when she, with his strength and the mass of Jedi before her, defeated Palpatine, he felt her death and the galaxy stopped being real. No one was around to save them. It was Ben – barely alive – and Rey – dead. He did the one thing he had left to offer – himself.

It wasn’t a senseless death. Ben gave her himself. All of his love, hope, strength, courage, and joy. Dying for someone else is never senseless. The greatest thing in life we could ever aspire to is giving up ourselves for someone else. As a Christian, I believe deeply that giving yourself for someone else is the highest act of love and compassion, because Christ did that for me and for you by dying on the cross. Of course, giving yourself for someone else doesn’t always mean dying – but that’s a pretty huge way of showing your love and devotion for someone. Ben died for Rey – and he didn’t regret it. If he could do just one last act of love – it was to give Rey life in exchange of his own. The ultimate sacrifice. While the Force isn’t the exact metaphor for Christ/the Holy Spirit, it certainly vibes in a way that sparks that same feeling of spirituality and the fight between good and evil.

Every time I listen to the song “Faith” by Jordan Feliz, these lyrics remind me of Ben standing with Rey: Remember your rescue is standing beside you. He comes to her rescue, and then gives her his all. The very last breath within him was for her – it had always been her.

Of course, none of this takes into the fact that a Dyad in the Force is basically the ultimate soulmate connection and with Ben’s death, Rey is left with a literal gaping wound that will never heal. Yeah, that’s fun to – to think about… HELLA DEPRESSING.

Ben didn’t die in vain. For all the issues TROS has (more than just this post can describe), I will boldly defend Ben Solo’s act of selflessness for Rey Nobody. It isn’t the first time I have fallen in love with a character that turns themselves around and tackles scary shit head on. Eugene Fitzherbert gave his life for Rapunzel (Tangled). Kirk gave his life for Spock (Star Trek Into Darkness) and vice versa (The Wrath of Khan). Richard Maxwell tried getting himself killed for the right reasons (touchy subject, lol) (Adventures in Odyssey). Laurent gave himself up to spare Damen’s life, which almost cost Laurent his own head (The Captive Prince). Horatio Caine hunted down his wife’s murderer (CSI:Miami). Of course not all of these deal with redemption (Eugene and Richard have redemption arcs), but Ben Solo can safely tuck himself into my long list of loves for sacrifices made in the face of great peril and hopeless odds.

And honestly, WHY DIDN’T BEN SOLO BECOME A FORCE GHOST?!!! I think I’m most angry about that!

[limerenze]

storytime/rant: my ex boyfriends best friend tea + my love life

okay okay okay(take a shot every time I say: okay, so, basically)

so I’m so sorry to everyone who doesn’t care about my personal life bc sksksk I wouldn’t care about it either. anyways I really gotta let it all out and who better than to my tumblr followers 😫

also imma be changing the names of the two boys in this story bc this is like, a real story between me and real people in my life & idk I feel weird using their real names

—————

Okay so, when I moved to Calgary in 2014, I met this boy- lets call him Ethan.

We were dating by February 15, 2015. Keep in mind we are both only in sixth grade. (I’m in 10th grade now)

We stayed together all the way until May 2017- I ended up breaking up with him because some shit happened in my life that January.

Then we got back together in October 2017, and it was really nice because uh I loved that boy. But I broke up with him yet again in December. Mostly bc I was like “hey I’m way too depressed to love you right now I’m so sorry” and he was like “oh my god no it’s okay please work on urself I love u” (this is ninth grade now).

Honestly, Ethan was such a good boyfriend and I really did love him and maybe I still do who knows, actually I do uh- I was taught that you never stop loving your first love? so part of me will always love him? ya. I hope he finds someone that treats him the way he deserves because he really is amazing and I know someone will take advantage of him if he’s not careful.

So ya that was that. And that lasted until uhhh, June 2018. When we got back together... yet again.

(Between the time we broke up in December and got back together in June, I had been in two relationships)

So the real tea is here, kinda. Like not the main tea of this story? But big tea.

Uhh, we dated all summer and it was actually amazing. I was totally in love with him and everything felt right? I guess.

Oh my goodness now that I’m writing this all out and explaining it, it sounds so dramatic I hate myself. I KNOW OKAY SKSKSK

Anyways, at the beginning of August he told me that he was actually moving to Vancouver at the end of August, before school starts.

And oh my fucking god I was so pissed.

I was so mad, I’m actually getting mad writing this.

I felt so betrayed I guess? I just feel like it was so selfish for him to spend our whole time back together (again) savouring it I guess? and I didn’t get that., like he got to know we were going to break up and I was kinda just left in the dark and idk.

anyways, not the point. shitty but not the point.

uhhhh ya.

so we broke up he moved away.

and since I can’t catch a break! he ended up moving back from Vancouver, in October.

I was even more pissed bc like, it was so sudden? Like I showed up at school one day and he was just, in the halls? Like okay he could’ve warned me? So insensitive.

He came to my school, and his TA (basically homeroom, you have he same ta the whole time you’re in that school) was right across the hall from mine. Well it still is, whatever.

It took us like a month of awkwardly seeing eachother in the halls and my trying to hard to avoid him at school before we finally talked.

We’ve had multiple deep conversations about our relationship and he’s apologized so many times for it and obviously I’ve forgiven him but u know how it be. We said that we would probably never get back together, and if we ever did then it was a sign? I don’t know. We’ve been through so much together and he means the world to me but IDK!!

anyways uh I think I’ve covered everything.

OKAY!

so when he moved back, I paid so so much attention to who he was hanging out with and where he usually went at lunch, basically gathering info so I could avoid him.

I noticed he was always always sitting at the back table of the library with this boy, who was in his ta- which I know because it was across from mine and I also paid way too much attention to him.

WHICH BY THE WAY I USED TO SIT AT THE BACK LIBRARY TABLE AND THEN THATS WHERE HE STARTED SITTING THEN I HAD TO FUCKING FIND A NEW SPOT DAMMIT!

it’s fine.

So this boy he was always sitting with, let’s call him Logan.

Ethan’s best friend is Logan. If you saw one outside of class, you saw the other.

And when semester two rolled around, sure enough, I had a class with Logan. Math.

So it’s March 11, and we started semester two on February 4. So a little over a month and today, I finally had a real conversation with Logan.

(I had talked to him once before in the cafeteria, it was loud and we talked about homework)

Basically, our math teacher randomly split the class into table groups. And Logan and I got sat together.

And y’all when I tell you he’s perfect, I mean he’s perfect.

He is the most hilarious person I’ve ever talked to in my life, he was so nice and witty and smart. He held a consistent conversation with me for like an hour and fifteen minutes.

He helped me with my work, he told me stories about himself, he listened to my stories.

He turned 16 last weekend, he plays hockey. He just started playing with the older division this season so he was telling me all about like the injuries he’s had and the fights he’s gotten into (hot).

He’s so cute and he dresses nicely. He coaches kids hockey teams and referees hockey games in his free time for that bread.

He told me he was saving up for a car.

He was telling me about how he quit lacrosse and how it was a long story and maybe one day he would tell it to me. He talked about his rugby tryouts that were after school and how nervous he was for them.

He said “hey you used to date my friend Ethan right?” And for like a second I was like okay that was fun while it lasted. Then he said “yeah he told me all about it a few weeks after we met, he was a complete asshole- no one deserves that” and I was like OKAY FUCK UR SO PERFECT PLS HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE.

And I stay after school on Monday’s usually for an after school program and just as I was leaving he was about to walk into the locker room to change for rugby and he had the biggest smile on his face when I went over to him.

I told him good luck and he was like thanks I’ll let you know how it goes, then he stole a veggie chip from the bag I was eating out of.

So now I’m here, it’s been like six hours since we were outside that locker room and I feel stuck.

Stuck with this big ass crush on my serious ex boyfriends best friend.

and idk what to do about it.

and like, ya I guess I’m a crushy person, hence the entire ‘carter art boy’ tag I use on my blog.

But idk it feels so different. I feel like he was so interested in my life and I was interested in his and UGH I feel weird.

So idk what I’m gonna do.

Maybe I’ll avoid him for the rest of the semester.

I cant see myself doing that tho, idk.

IDKIDKIDKIDK

pls send me advice in my asks

[fr0gheart]

cruise ship pt.1

A/N: so I'm starting my first ever series on tumblr so I hope you like it. I think when I have enough posts I'll make a masterlist but till then here ya go and enjoy. If you're a new time reader and you want to read my other posts just search up the hashtag Tom Holland imagines.

writings

Word count:1042 ( not counting authors note)

“ Tom! Come on we’re going to be late for boarding you said as you struggled to get your luggage out the door and into the car.

You dropped off your luggage and came upstairs to see Tom hugging Tessa and her eyes bulging out of her head

“ Tom Stop she can’t breathe,” you said alarmingly while pulling Tessa away from him dropping her on the floor.

“ We have to get going so we can drop her off at your parents’ “, you said grabbing her leash and some dog food from the cabinet

You and Tom were going on a 3-day cruise ship to the Bahamas and from there you would explore and take a flight back home. You were excited because you and Tom were able to split the bill without him taking the cost of all of it.

“ Come on Y/N chill out, the whole point of this vacation is for you to relax.” he said while hugging you from behind soothing your nerves.“ We will get there on time, chill out babe”  

He turns you around and kisses you and you completely relax until you pull away to look at the time and you push him away before grabbing Tessa and rushing out of the house.

“ You’re making us late quickly let’s go,” you said while catching your breath and running out of the house

“ You’re no fun Y/N” he chuckles as he ran out of the house with you

TIME SKIP

It was 1:45 and you were officially late. Tom had been taking too long talking to his parents that he didn’t realize the time. You basically had to pry him from his parents and now you’re pretty sure they hate you now.

“ Babe, we’re boarding let’s go, ” he says as he grabs your hand and basically pulled you to the giant ship in front of you.

You were in awe as your mouth hangs open admiring the giant ship before you. It was shaped like a heart with a pool in the center.

" Come on Y/N lets go!" Tom says dragging your arm and pulling you into the massive ship.

You guys continued exploring and found out that the ship had a theater a buffet, a flow rider and a go-karting course. You were absolutely in shock.

" We have to go find our room, Tom, " you said snapping out of your daze and proceeding to the suites.

" Room for Mr.Holland" you spoke to the manager.

" I will need to see Mr.Holland" he countered without hesitation

" What do you mean I booked this room!" you fired back

" Well, you didn't put it in your name so unless you go get Mr.Holland himself you will not be allowed in your suite."

" Now if you don't mind there are guests behind you" he stated angrily and with a bit of a tone.

Today had already been a bad day for you with being late to boarding to having to tear Tom away from his parents and on top of that this encounter with the manager, all you wanted to do was fall asleep. You had to go find Tom so you texted him:

You: Tom where are you I need you

You: Tom where are you

Tom: why are you so needy ugh leave me alone bitch

You were confused about why Tom was acting like this so you decided to just wait at the bench beside the desk until he decided to show up before you knew it you were falling asleep due to the lack of WI-FI on the ship.

.

Before you knew it you were being shaken awake by Tom.

"Hey, hey babe I've been looking for you everywhere "

You jolted up and looked at Tom

" They won't let me go in out suite since I put it in your name so can you just go with me there," you said not putting any emotion in your voice.

" Yeah sure whatever you need babe" he smiled as he went in to kiss you but you moved you're head still hurt by the feeling of his text earlier.

He stood up embarrassed by your actions and walked to the manager to get your affairs in order before walking back to you and holding a hand out to help you stand up but you refused it and stood up by yourself. You pointed to him to lead the way as you followed behind him gripping onto his bicep of his right arm because you are still so tired.

You got to your room and instantly fell on the bed. eyes facing the ceiling.

" um...Y/N what's wrong you were being really cold in the lobby," he said barely above a whisper

" Don't act like you don't know okay," you paused feeling a huge headache due to sleep deprivation" do you think we can talk about this tomorrow I'm not feeling well" you responded.

Tom nodded and got into the covers with you despite you being mad at him he spooned you anyway because that's just the type of guy he is. Sometimes you think you don't deserve him but if he thinks you're clingy you're gonna distance yourself the most you can.

TAG LIST

@tshollandlove

[charlieism]

2017 Fic List

These are all the fanfics that I wrote and posted this year! I hope if you decide to read any that you like them :)

Fluff:

Polyamsanders / Platonic

Snowballs and Sweaters  (2918 words)

Roman, Patton, Virgil and Logan celebrate Christmas together.

Loved (1085 words)

Its late at night, Logic is tired and gets cuddled by his boyfriends.

Soothing (Platonic, or anyone with Virgil) (2499 words)

In which each side discovers that Anxiety likes having his hair played with.

Numbers Do Justice (453 words) (Based off artwork)

Prince and Anxiety can't sit in silence together for too long, Anxiety has to offend Roman somehow!

Reflexes (926 words)

“Luck?” “Nope. Skill.” “If it was skill then do it again.”

Logicality

Golden Mornings (844 words)

Waking up to a golden morning

Kiss It Better (925 words)

Logan is sick and Patton is a good boyfriend.

Carnival (1349 words)

Logan takes Patton to a carnival.

Friendship Bracelets (959 words)

"Well, since you're my best friend, I wanted to give you something to remember that we're good friends? So... I made us friendship bracelets." Morality rushed bashfully, thrusting his hands out and revealing to Logan the surprise.

Surprisingly Nice (687 words)

Cuddling is a surprisingly nice activity, Logic has found.

Prinxiety

Of Ink Stains and Love Notes (5194 words)

Everyone has a soulmate. Almost everyone finds their soulmate and forms a relationship with them, be it romantic or platonic. Some people have the link, an anomaly in which anything that is written, drawn, or doodled onto one person's skin will appear on their soulmate's skin, in the exact same place. Roman has the link. Or at least, he likes to believe he does.

Thunderstorms (877 words)

Anxiety hates thunderstorms, but he doesn't have to suffer through them alone anymore.

Holding Hands (3764 words)

Everyone ships it. The fans, the viewers, Patton, even Logic. Prince and Anxiety won't ever get together, Anxiety knows this. There's literally no way ever. Even though everyone ships it. Prince and Anxiety are rivals, they don't like each other! Anxiety would never even think about befriending Prince. Just because it's a certain holiday with everyone telling them to get together doesn't mean anything's going to change.

Colour (880 words)

Anxiety has always associated people with colours. Roman is red.

Kitten (304 words)

"What's behind your back?"

Eyeshadow (2045 words)

“Ugh, you cannot take a hint.” He grumbled, making Anxiety frown in confusion. “Fine. I want you to do my eyeshadow.” Roman muttered.

Angst:

Happy Ending

Fake Smiles and False Confidence (Roman-centric) (4128 words)

Prince always brought up self love and saving himself because he knew he didn’t. Roman didn’t love himself, he hated himself, and he wanted to change that but he didn’t know how. His quest to save himself, to love himself, was taking so long and it wasn’t working at all, no matter how many fake smiles he shone and how much false confidence he oozed.

Apologies (Patton & Logan-centric) (2433 words)

“Logan?” He called cautiously. Silence followed. “Logan, I know you’re in your room. But I’m not going to come in if you don’t want me to, I know I upset you. And I just need you to know…” Patton exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry.”

Bottled Up Emotions (Logan-centric) (Written with an addition from @softbludemon)

Every time Logan represses a feeling, a bottled up emotion appears on a shelf. One day, the shelf breaks.

Love Is Stronger (Virgil-centric) (Prinxiety) (2064 words)

Ella Enchanted AU

The room, it was beautiful. Anxiety's fingers were linked with Roman's, and he couldn't pull them free, but he wanted to. He wanted to run away. Far away, away from Roman. Roman, who was tugging him through the door, into the Room of Mirrors. A room of beautiful mirrors and vines, of flowers and shining reflections, a room of memories and tradition and love. A room that would soon be where Prince died.

Just A Joke (Roman & Virgil-centric) (277 words)

Anxiety is scared of spiders. Prince regrets it.

Unhappy Ending

Untouchable (Virgil-centric) (347 words)

They thought me untouchable, but you swept me off my feet a lifetime ago and never quite put me down. Of course I was out of their reach.

Torn (Focuses on every side) (3603 words)

Tears dampened pillows and blankets, stained cheeks and rimmed eyes with scarlet red. Sobs shook each trait's body, pulling choked cries from aching throats and burning lungs. Each person sought comfort, searched desperately for a way to appease the hurt clawing at them from the inside out, only to find cold, unyielding isolation.

His Name (Logan-centric) (505 words)

Why did everybody else get reveal their names on their own? Why wasn’t he… why wasn’t he important enough to do that? Liked enough? Good enough? Why was he getting so upset over this, he was being unreasonable, it’s stupid, he should definitely not have tears in his eyes over such a trivial matter.

Against The Wall (Patton-centric) (1121 words) (A collab with @softbludemon​!)

The wall that split them off, kept them alone and away from one another. Left them confined to their own rooms, to single-handedly be the characteristic they’re supposed to embody. To do all that work with zero help… zero support… zero love.

Without Us (Patton-centric) (613 words)

“No! I won’t do what you say any longer! It’s not all up to you, I’m important too, you don’t know everything, I’m here for a reason!” Patton yelled, chest heaving as he blinked back tears of fury. 

Chapter fics: (AO3) 

(aka my first sanders sides fics, jeez)

Opposites Attract (Prinxiety) (16172 words)

The one where everyone thinks Prince and Anxiety hate each other, but truthfully they really, really don't. Sure, they argue about pretty much everything, but what do people always say? Opposites Attract!

(Logically Speaking) Opposites Attract  (Logicality, Prinxiety) (12595 words) (Sequel to Opposites Attract) 

Prince and Anxiety are a couple. Misleading Compliment and Pranks are best friends. So who's left? Morality and Logic, of course. 

Logic still attempts to ignore Dad, and often tries to push him away. In Logic's opinion, Dad just has too many feelings; they overflow out of him and splash onto everyone else, making them experience emotions as well. Ugh, feelings. The bane of Logan's existence.

They're even more of a problem when he starts experiencing...Something that he can't explain, whenever he looks at Morality. They are abnormal, peculiar, unorthodox... feelings and emotions. What do they mean, and what is Logic supposed to do about them?

Other Rambled Writing

Essentially where I write, outline, plan, theorise or come up with a story but it’s in tumblr text post format lol, inspired and based off anons that I get sent

Roman’s arc and room

Logan’s arc and room

Virgil believing in Santa

Roman’s Halloween costumes

When Thomas gets butterflies in his stomach, Virgil hiccups butterflies.

There we go! They’re all the fics that i have fully posted and have been able to hunt down lol i hope you like some of them?? (rereading some of my older ones was an Experience for myself lmao, and i’m not even sure if this is all the fics, i used to suck at tagging oml.)

[katsukou-bakugi]

OOPS I LOST THE ASK FOR THIS

((It was a six-part ask requesting to see the Bakusquad get attacked by two villains with specific quirks during a training exercise...))

The object of the training exercise was simple: search and capture. After leading his class out to the training field, All Might explaiNed that they would have ten minutes to group up into four teams of five, spread out, and strategize. Then, once he blew the starting whistle, they were to begin. The last team standing would be the winner.

Once their prep time had started, Ashido, Kaminari, Sero, and Kirishima were quick to partner with Bakugou. After all, they'd made a powerhouse team during the Sports Festival. This little game of tag would be a piece of cake for them.

However, the second they heard the whistle sound, Bakugou went running off on his own, as he was wont to do. Poor Kirishima went chasing after him, as if he could say or do anything to make him come back. Then there were three.

"Ugh, I hate it when he does that," Kaminari groaned in frustration. "Teams of five my ass."

"Hey, no biggie," Sero chimed in. "Remember what All Might said? Search and capture. My quirk's perfect for that. Those two are more of the search and destroy types, know what I mean? With or without 'em, we've got this."

That seemed to cheer Kaminari up a bit. At the very least, he thought those two running off on their own would serve as a good diversion. They were definitely loud enough, and, he hoped, skilled enough to avoid getting caught too quickly.

It was Ashido who reminded them of their classmates Jiro and Shoji. Their quirks were good for picking up on enemy movements, so they'd have to be careful of their teams. Even if it was just a simple training exercise, they had to keep on their guard if they wanted to win.

As they carefully made their way through the wooded areas of the training grounds, they stopped short when they sensed movement nearby. The three of them went stone still, listening for another indication of their classmates' positions. Sero grinned when he heard shifting sounds in the underbrush to his left, and whipped out a line of tape from his elbow. "Can't hide from me!" he taunted.

Before his tape could make contact though, jagged blades shot out from the darkness and sliced his tape to shreds. He jumped away, narrowly avoided getting cut apart himself.

"What the hell?" Ashido yelped, her stance turning offensive. "That wasn't one of our classmate's quirks!"

Then, out of the shadows, stepped two strangers. One had his hand outstretched, the metal blades from before receding into his fingertips. Rather, his fingernails. Villains? the three thought fearfully. At this point, it shouldn't have been much of a surprise.

"Sorry to interrupt your fun, kids," the fingernail villain began. "But now that we've been spotted, we have no choice."

The blades shot out again, and this time Kaminari was the one to retaliate. He pushed the other two out of the way, bracing himself for the perfect moment to grab the metal and use his quirk. Even he knew what a conductive material was.

He flinched as he grabbed onto one of the jagged edges, his palm sliced through; he held on fast as he focused his electricity though, hoping to send the shock straight to the villain himself.

"Clever boy," the second villain mocked as his form began to bubble and morph, shifting to envelope the same blade Kaminari had electrified. "If you know that metal conducts electricity, tell me: what does rubber do?"

In a split second he felt a piercing pain in his shoulder as the fingernail guy drove a new blade there. His grip on the first slipped, but he tried his previous tactic again. He hoped he could be faster than the rubber guy this time.

No use. The second a charge started, rubber guy switched to the other blade before it could reach his comrade. Okay, new plan. He tried to separate from the blade in his shoulder, but it was as if it had hooked into him. He was stuck, like a fish on a line. "Ashido, little help?!"

"Yeah, hold still." She ran to his side, careful to avoid getting cut, and to keep the flow of her acid from touching his skin as she melted through the blade. While she worked to get Kaminari free, Sero tried again to capture the enemies, or at least keep them occupied so she could free him. He actually managed to wrap Rubber up in his tape, but it didn't do much good; he just melted himself free and went to hide behind his partner, who easily sliced through his attacks.

It seemed like Ashido was the only one who could do any real damage here, but it was risky; her quirk was close range, and she wasn't eager to get within arms reach of Fingernails. She cast a worried glance to Kaminari, his hand and shoulder bleeding profusely. Not to mention the rest of the misshapen metal blade still stuck in his wound. They should run, she decided, and find help. It was a bad matchup for them, but All Might could take these thugs down with a flick of his fingers.

Before she could so much as move a muscle, a loud series of bangs and booms caught her attention. Of course the villains had heard it too, but before any of them could even blink Bakugou was sailing out from the forest behind their foes. Just as Fingernails began to turn around and take aim, Bakugou already had his attack ready.

The blowback sent Fingernails flying towards them, but now Rubber was nowhere to be seen. Kaminari saw his chance. Using his good arm, he caught the villain and let out the biggest shock he could muster. Sure, his brain was fried, but at least they had one down.

And one more to go. Where was rubber?

They could only guess that he'd slithered away just in time to avoid Bakugou's attack. Just as Ashido and Sero began to hope he'd retreated, Bakugou found himself wrapped up in a long, fleshy coil. It almost looked like a snake, but it was clearly an arm, as a hand gripped the top of Bakugou’s head tightly.

"Wouldn't want to hurt your little friend, now would you?" Rubber goaded. "How about a trade? Mine for yours, and we'll forget any of this happened." Bakugou opened his mouth to curse and shout at his captor, but the coil around his throat tightened before he could utter a word. "Think carefully now."

"You're a special kinda stupid if you thought it'd be that easy." There was a loud slamming sound from behind the villain, and the long, snake-like prison around Bakugou’s neck fell limp. As Rubber collapsed, Kirishima could be seen standing behind him with a raised fist. "Don't worry," he eased as the hardened portion of his body returned to normal. "Just knocked him out. You alright Bakugou?"

"M'fine," he muttered as he stood up. "Took you long enough, Shitty Hair."

"Wait," Ashido interrupted. "You two planned that little stunt?"

"Planned is giving him a little too much credit," Kirishima chuckled, earning him a sharp glare from the blonde, "but yeah, more or less."

"Well... let's just go find All Might before these two goons wake up," she sighed, shouldering an injured and dumbly blabbering Kaminari.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Kirishima agreed with a grin and a thumbs up. "We'll make sure to leave out the part where you needed us to bail the three of you outta trouble "

"Yeah, and we'll leave out the part where you two went running off on your own," Sero countered.

"Touche."

HAHA THIS TOOK ME FOR FUCKING EVER TO WRITE. ( I HAD TO START OVER TWICE BECAUSE TUMBLR’S A DICK AND ATE MY FIRST TWO DRAFTS. ) 

I’m really sorry it’s so half-assed but I just got so frustrated with it... I didn’t want to just give up on it but I also wanted to move on to my other requests. 

[wildflowerhowell]

I Found, chapter 1

Dan Howell and Phil Lester hate each other, and everyone at the Ida Gatley school of dance knows it. So what happens when the two are paired together to choreograph and perform a duet at England's most renowned contemporary dance competition?

word count (in total): 22,139

chapters: 12

genre: fluff and angst

tw: none

read on ao3

all chapters

If there’s one thing everyone at the Ida Gatley School of Dance knows about Dan Howell, it’s that he hates Phil Lester. Even though they attend the same studio, the two boys are constantly competing. There isn’t a day where they aren’t trying to beat each other’s highest number of alesecones in a row, or seeing who could wring the most praise out of whichever instructor was choreographing them. They both have to spend multiple several hours almost every day with the person they hate most, and that doesn’t help calm their hatred for each other. In fact, the small-scale battles seem to increase in harshness every time Dan and Phil set foot onto the studio floor.

~

It was 7:23 on a Thursday night, meaning that Dan’s contemporary class, taught by Ida Gatley herself, was set to begin soon. (Ida personally selects the best dancers in her studio to be a part of her contemporary class. IGSD takes pride in the numerous awards they’ve won for their astonishing performance in contemporary, and she wasn't planning on letting her reputation be swept down the drain by a few less-than-perfect dancers. Her choice to allow both Dan and Phil to be a part of this class was not an easy one to make, but she knew that their rivalry would encourage them both to do their absolute best. Ida’s choice had proven to be effective.)

Dan fiddled around on his phone for a few minutes, opening Tumblr and reblogging a gif of a woman doing a beautifully over-extended grand jete, writing “ugh! goals” in the tags, even though his grand jetes looked practically identical to hers. After scrolling through his dash for several more minutes, he closed the app and checked the time. 7:32. Dan thought this was odd, as Ida never started class behind schedule. He took a step closer to a small window with a view into the room that his contemporary class was held in and peeked inside to see Ida chatting with none other than Phil Lester. Of fucking course, Dan thought to himself, He’s making conversation just so that Ida will like him more. That’s just the type of thing that asshole would do.

Dan then saw Ida look up at the clock and realize that she’d gotten so caught up in talking with Phil, she hadn’t started class on time. He watched as she scolded Phil for not notifying her that 7:30 had already passed, and when he saw the guilt in Phil’s eyes, he chuckled softly to himself. The older boy looked up at the window and glared at Dan, who smirked and thought proudly to himself, another victory to yours truly.

Ida rushed to open the door and as Dan and the other seven dancers filed into the room, she apologized for the delay in an annoyed tone of voice. The black haired boy blushed with embarrassment and looked downward to avoid eye contact with anyone. “Right,” Ida hurried around, turning certain lights on and other lights off, “I’ll give you ten minutes to warm up and stretch on your own while I talk to you all about something.” A few people glanced around at each other, wondering what their choreographer was going on about. Dan went into his right splits as the owner of the studio began talking about whatever was so important.

“As you all know,” Ida was sitting on a bench in the front right corner of the room, her hands folded over her crossed legs, “Grasp, the annual contemporary dance competition that’s held at the Mark Jeffrey Theater in Brighton, is coming up in a month and a half. This competition is very exclusive and only the best dancers are invited to perform. Yesterday as I was checking my email I received a letter from the theater telling me that IGSD is invited to compete!”

Dan’s jaw dropped in awe as he heard a few ‘oh my god’s and a couple ‘that’s incredible!’s. He looked around at all the smiling faces and accidentally made eye contact with Phil. They both immediately turned their heads in separate directions. There’s no way in hell that they’d ever share a moment of joy with each other.

“Settle down, settle down,” Ida coaxed, a smile plastered to her face, “So. The theme of this year’s competition is ‘duets’, meaning that sadly, only two of you will get to compete.”

Dan looked around once again but instead of seeing cheery, excited faces he saw disappointed, confused looks. Dan didn’t want to brag, but he felt extremely confident that he’d be one of the two dancers to compete. He’d won multiple contemporary awards for this studio before, and Ida seemed to watch him the most in class, barely ever correcting him whereas she’d give everybody else multiple things to work on. He wondered who the other person would be. He hoped it would be Indie, mainly because they’d done a duet together a few years ago. But maybe it would be Alex? He’s a great dancer too.

Ida kept talking, despite many of her students mumbling under their breath about how unfair this was. “You’re all phenomenal dancers, so to choose who will be competing, we’ll have a little competition of our own. I’ll teach a short dance; when you’ve learned it you’ll perform it as a solo for the class. The two people that perform it the best will compete at Grasp!”

Dan was so ready for this. He loved performing, whether it was in front of 1,000 people or 10 people. And if he was given the opportunity to rub his talent in Phil’s face, he’d gladly take it.

The class spent the next hour or so learning the dance. Dan wasn’t going to lie, it was one of the hardest, most intricate dances that he had ever learned. Its quick, precise movements made the occasional slower (but still quite fast) parts feel like he’d just run a marathon without ever slowing down and he was finally able to stop. Dan could tell that everyone else felt the same about the dance, as they were sweating and constantly eyeing their water bottles. When Ida was confident that everyone had learned and memorized the dance sufficiently enough to do their solo, she allowed the dancers to get water and review the dance for ten minutes. Then it was time to perform.

Julie went first. Her solo went fairly well (it actually went incredibly well, for fuck’s sake. Dan was just so used to being around award-winning dancers that even the best didn’t faze him). Fawn went next, her dancing just as good as Julie’s. After that was Arden, then Oliver, then Blair. When Blair finished his solo with the ending pose of a z-split, his right arm planted softly on the floor and his head positioned to look up at his right hand that was reaching for the tiled ceiling, there was a light round of applause. Dan clapped a bit and then raised his hand to signify that he wanted to go next.

As Dan walked to the center of the room he could feel Ida’s eyes resting intently on him. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, actually. But out of every dancer in that room, he was the most aware of Phil. God, why did he have to stare at Dan all the damn time? It kind of freaked him out sometimes, the amount of time that Phil spent looking, glaring, at him.

Dan cut off his thoughts about Phil and diverted his attention to his feet, which weren’t in the right beginning placement, a wide second position. Fuck. As he quickly corrected himself, he heard Phil snicker quietly. Asshole. He looked over at Ida who found the right spot in the music, Exxus by Glass Animals, and pressed play.

The song played for a couple of eight-counts until it was time for Dan to start dancing. When he did, his movements were quick but they flowed together seamlessly. He did elegant turning stags and mesmerising double illusions and the difficulty of the dance seemed to melt away as the choreography progressed. When he did a calypso and rolled into the final pose, he heard the whole class, including Ida, erupt into an ovation. Even Phil was clapping, though it was still the same amount of applause that he gave everyone else. Dan couldn’t help but fill with pride as he stood up. He had proved that he wasn’t in this class for nothing.

When no one wanted to perform after Dan, Ida called on Phil. As the two boys passed each other when heading to their designated places in the room; Dan on a bench in front of the mirrors and Phil in the center of the floor, they exchanged a glance that was filled with nothing short of hatred. Dan could tell that Phil didn’t want to let him have this. Well too fucking bad, the brown-eyed boy thought, I’m going to compete at Grasp. He took a seat and Ida started the music again.

Dan wasn’t looking into the mirror during his solo. But judging from the fact that the amount of applause awarded to him was much greater than any of the previous dancer’s amounts, he did breathtakingly well. And it just so seemed that Phil Lester could possibly be doing as well as him. Phil’s muscular arms worked to make sure that every flick of the wrist was perfect. His legs allowed him to leap at an incredible height. He was- no, his dancing- was beautiful. Dan could do nothing but shake his head just ever so slightly as the same applause that was given to him was given to Phil. Well, shit, Dan thought.

Indie and Alex were the last two to do their solos, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d gone or not. It was already clear who was competing. No, don’t say that, Dan consoled himself, Just because everyone liked Phil’s solo doesn’t mean Ida did. You have no idea who’s gonna get to compete.

At 8:57, when class was almost over, Ida spoke after a long silence of looking at the notes that she had taken during the solos. “When you come back to class next week, I’ll be announcing who will be competing at Grasp. In the meantime, please don’t stress out about this. You all did wonderfully. Have a good rest of your week!”

Dan gathered his things (a water bottle that was now empty, two knee pads, his phone, his keys, and his bag that held all of the shoes and extra clothes that he’d need for different classes), and headed out a door that was bordered by twinkling fairy lights. When he was on his way to his car, a black 2007 Honda Civic that was once his mom’s, he heard a familiar voice call out behind him. “Good job, Howell.” Dan turned around to see Phil standing on the pavement near the studio, his barely-visible body lit by only a few dim streetlights. He’s not trying to be nice, Dan thought, He’s just trying to intimidate you. The younger boy left Phil standing there without a reply, and as he started to drive off, he looked in his rearview mirror to see that Phil hadn’t moved from his spot by the studio door.

[tallskinnyvanillalatte]

Castle Episodes (Season 7)

Season 7 it is, I’m almost done. The previous posts can be found here.

7x01 Driven: Let’s be honest - the moment they arrive at the scene, seeing Castle’s car up in flames, could be way more intense. Beckett is freaking out, yes, but there could be more emotions as well. Also with Alexis and Martha. I mean, they think that their father/son is in that car, they should be freaking out more. I understand that they can only focus on so many people - but still, this didn’t even take a minute. Great, now Beckett’s pretty dress is ruined. .. just imagine if they had made the title card say “Beckett” instead of “Castle” omfg. The moment when Espo gives Beckett a cup of coffee and she thinks it’s Castle for a split second. “When Alexis was taken” like, we can mention that two years later but we can’t deal with it properly back then. Two months go by. And I wonder how Alexis and Martha dealt with that. If you just think about it.. they woke up every morning with Castle still not being home. Went on in their days. Went to bed not knowing if he was still alive or what was going on, hoping for news the next day. For TWO MONTHS. How did Castle react when he woke up? How did Alexis and Martha react? I have so many questions that aren’t answered and it’s frustrating. “To my amazing mother, my wonderful daughter, and the love of my life.” I’m frustrated by this storyline already because there’s so many unanswered questions and I know that this is stretched out over so long that it’s hard to keep up.

7x02 Montreal: I’d mention that Lanie and Esposito are back together but they’ve been on and off in the past that I wouldn’t bother to mention, so. Castle kissing Gates like that is not that cool - a kiss on the cheek would’ve been fine. “What just happened” yeah Gates, same. Martha mentions that she went to grief counseling while Castle was missing. Just let that sink in. “It’s Canada, how risky could it be” the way he says this and Alexis’ face is too priceless because it’s one Canadian saying this to another, both playing Americans on the show. While Castle was gone, he’d recorded videos for Alexis, Martha and Beckett saying goodbye, saying he loved them :( The scene with Castle and the guy, Hollander’s Woods, Castle in tears, oh boy.

7x03 Clear & Present Danger: Eight minutes in - the devil was the killer, case closed. “Clearly, our killer is the invisible man.” Martha walking into Castle’s .. trap was hilarious.

7x04 Child’s Play: Alexis’ behavior is weird but that is explained at the end of the episode. Twenty second graders? Only twenty children per class? Oh my God, that sounds like heaven. Castle at school is hilarious. “Mister Castle, we do not make faces in the classroom” “He started it!” :D Castle slurping out of the juice box and then coughing, hilarious. This little girl Emily is adorable, and Castle with her is so cute. And how perfect is that fairy tea party scene. At the end of the episode, Castle talks to Alexis about her weird behavior. She tells him that it’s because she thinks something terrible will happen again, that she’ll lose him again. And Castle tells her that he knows exactly how she feels, that he wouldn’t have let her out of his sight after Paris (why didn’t we see any of that though). <3

7x05 Meme is Murder: It’s funny how they pronounce ‘Fuchs’ (fyoux) because that name happens to be German for fox. “I’m German” ah, so the name isn’t random after all ;) Ryan has a blog called “The Ryan Report”. I wonder if someone made a tumblr with that name. Okay I just checked, yeah the blog exists but no one is using it. Someone just saved the url. The webcommercial at the end is gold. Hi, I’m Critchard Ratchel.

7x06 The Time of Our Lives: Matthias, a Swiss guy. Last episode Germany, this time Switzerland. It’s a “what if” episode. The intro has a different sound. Beckett is captain, Lanie is pregnant, Martha redecorated the loft, Alexis has black hair and lives in LA with her mother, Ryan isn’t with Jenny, Espo isn’t with Lanie. Martha’s huuuge self portrait in the office is hilarious. And the scene with Alexis and Castle with the hug is so adorable. The wedding is squeezed into the last 4.5 minutes. The wedding itself is beautiful. The vows are perfect, they dance to their song, Beckett looks gorgeous (and she’s wearing Martha’s ear rings), the venue is gorgeous (so cheesy but beautiful, with really crappy CGI). I just wish they had used a little more time for it. And I hate that Lanie, Ryan and Espo weren’t there.

7x07 Once Upon a Time in the West: Lanie, Ryan and Espo aren’t too amused about that, either. “You guys suck”. Five minutes later “You still suck”. The intro is super cool, Wild West style. Their outfits in style are hilarious.

7x08 Kill Switch: “You still remind me a little of Hooch” aww that sentence came up again <3 It’s the episode with Javi held hostage on a subway train. It’s funny how the “hidden message in the pizza carton” trick always works. Like, shouldn’t they be more careful now and check the box? That trick is so old. I don’t like how the drama is written. Like, it’s so anticlimactic. It’s about to get dramatic when Espo and the woman cop take down the guy but it happens so easily. Then “It’s not over, the guy was infected with a deadyl bacteria” - dramaaaaa. Until three minutes later, they’re all in the hospital, giving an antibiotic and they are safe. “Come on, let’s take the subway. .. too soon? [...] Am I on the wrong track here?” lol Castle

7x09 Last Action Hero: The sound of the intro is different again. I’m not too interested in the episode, I’m barely paying attention. The ear recognition thingy reminds me of that CSI New York episode where Aiden Burn was killed and left her earprint in the car for the others to find, so that they’d know it was her. Ah, I can’t wait to watch that show once I’m done with Castle. Awww how sweet of Beckett to carve my initials into her apartment <3 ;)

7x10 Bad Santa: Javi is about to meet Lanie’s parents who think that they are engaged. The title card in Christmas style is hilarious. Javi meets her parents and so do we, we haven’t seen them before. “When the time comes, I hope you call me”. We’ll see if Castle calls Dino. Is that... are Lanie and Espo breaking up with each other? “You are no longer permitted to work with the NYPD” Were these two scenes just a huge “fuck you” from the writers/producers to the fans? Like .. merry fucking christmas to you, too?

7x11 Castle P.I.: Castle is a private investigator now. “YOu can make this a lot easier for me, Perlmutter.” “Oh, because that’s what I live for.” Perlmutter is gold. Beckett and Castle trying to figure out what the other one knows is hilarious. “Oh, we’re definitely on top of [Castle]” omfg. Halfway through the season and I’m not too impressed, can you tell?

7x12 Private Eye Caramba: “So pleasant to see you. And not see Castle.” Bless Perlmutter. 

7x13 I, Witness: Castle witnesses a murder but when they get into the house the wife was murdered in, there’s no blood. It reminds me of that episode in season 5 I think where they staged that murder for Castle’s birthday. They later find Eva’s body, but Castle is convinced it’s not her and that she just staged her death. Turns out it’s actually Eva.

7x14 Resurrection: “Where are you off to?” “Oh, I signed up for an escort service and have to meet a client.” “What, a what?” “I just wanted to see if you’re listening. I’m going to the library to study.” “not cool.” The look on his face was priceless. Plot twist, 3XK isn’t dead after all (who would’ve guessed). “Mister Castle works on this case only” oh please, Gates, are you even listening to yourself. The ending is really creepy with Beckett answering a call and the creepy “we will meet again, one day” music and then she’s abducted.

7x15 Reckoning: Uuuh, Castle surprising Tyson and closing the door to talk to him alone. Reminds me of that season from .. wow exactly two seasons ago where he talked to that guy who had driven the van Alexis was in. Oh, Castle. “I get to kill you over and over again” - he kills Beckett, then takes Martha, kills her, then Alexis, kills her, like Castle would be so dead. “Castle, he’s calling from your house”. The angst when he gets home and asks for Alexis. The relieve when both Martha and Alexis are okay. He sends them both to Europe, so that they are safe. Oh, I wish he’d abducted Alexis, too. Jeez that moment Castle thought Beckett had been shot right in front of his eyes. “I need a new face and I’ve chosen yours.” It’s so disturbing and wrong and ugh. So, is 3XK dead for real this time? Beckett deals with Nieman all on her own, with a scalpel. Aaaand Castle is back at the precinct, working with Beckett.

7x16 The Wrong Stuff: Aww it’s laser tag at the Castle residence again. Wait a minute... Alexis is playing with some dude instead of Castle. I’m offended. And then Martha walks down the stairs with some other dude wearing Castle’s pjs. Like, what the fuck is going on - “The Wrong Stuff”, yeah big time. omfg the Mars themed intro is hilarious. Are you my mummy? How cool would it have been if Castle had made that reference. Why did Alexis open the door when neither of her friends left? Like, what was the point? And her “get a room” comment wasn’t too great. Tom Richwood. Torchwood. Close enough.

7x17 Hong Kong Hustle: Ah that badass lady, taking out Ryan and Esposito single-handedly, disarming both of them. “It’s a girl’s night out, there won’t be competition” and then we see Zhang and Beckett in that shooting area thingy that I have no idea what the official word for is,

7x18 At Close Range: Um... Ryan???? “Uh, Ryan, is it One Direction? You’d tell me if they are in town.” “No, they are in Hong Kong.” “Right.” Ah, Castle and Espo are little fans of One Direction? We meet Ryan’s sister Gwen.

7x19 Habeas Corpse: Alexis’ outfit is so cute. And I love that she studied with Beckett. Ryan and Esposito practicing their performance in the interrogation room is hilarious. How did Alexis’ exam go? Can we get an update, please? I would’ve loved to see both performances, though (the Caskett one dressed though).

7x20 Sleeper: Castle’s been having nightmares about his disappearance. He’s seeing Beckett’s therapist. “So you were in jungle combat? With Chuck Norris?” this whole thing is so bizarre already, like... “I was in Thailand, getting shot at, with Chuck Norris?” I’m not buying it? This storyline is so.. off and bizarre already, I’m not that interested in it anymore.

7x21 In Plane Sight: Ah, I love this episode. “Are you okay?” “Alexis is on this flight.” <3 Alexis helping and examining the body, so badass.��“Because my daughter is on this plane and I’m not gonna let anything happen to her.” <3 Alexis was so badass, disarming the woman <3 There are so many great Castle/Alexis scenes in this episode, I really miss this aspect of the show, we’ve been getting less and less of it.

7x22 Dead in New York: “I don’t know if we should be flattered or offended.” Well, I just think it’s plain stupid. Carly Rae Japson has an appearance in this episode. And she performs “I really like you”. The performance feels so staged. Like, it is staged, but it shouldn’t feel that way if it was done well, you know? It just feels out of place.

7x23 Hollander’s Woods: Castle with the head puns though. I don’t know which one I’d go for. The serious one looks better but it’s a bit too serious. The smiling one just looks creepy. Something in between should be right. Aww Ryan and Esposito are celebrating ten years of marrriage working together. We find out about Castle’s past, about what happed in Hollander’s Woods when he was eleven years old. He had watched a murder and the killer had worn a creepy mask and had threatened him to never tell anyone about this. He had later called the police but they never found the body which made him wonder if that had actually happened. In this episode, the body has the exact same marks as the body he had seen and a witness described a man with a mask - exactly the same mask he had seen. What happened to Castle happened 30 years ago which would mean that he’s 41 now. Which... seems a couple years too young. “You are going to be amazing. [..] Because you already are.” <3 Awww there’s Hodges from CSI. Turns out he’s the killer :( Ah, it’s so creepy, I love it. “Mother, you will always be a star in my eyes. And Alexis, you amaze me every day. You two are my redheaded pillars of unconditional love.” <3 The ending with Castle’s speech and everyone together at the round table was beautiful. It could have been the series finale. If I’m not mistaken, by the time they had filmed this episode, they didn’t know whether or not we’d get an eight season. So, they probably did this ending on purpose.