#well i sure as fuck am not going to write it so if anybody else feels inspired PLEASE DO

[tathrin]

Oh no help, why is my brain suddenly full of an RAF (or RFC) AU where Legolas is a pilot who gets the nickname “Greenleaf” because of how lightly and acrobatically he flies (and also he should probably be Irish or Scottish so the Brits can be derisive about his “more dangerous and less wise” people hmm? ooh or Indian! doesn’t really matter as long as he wears a lot of green so the nickname makes sense lmao) while Gimli was too short for the army but is a fucking amazing mechanic and basically single-handedly responsible for how amazing this unit’s planes are and how no matter how wrecked their planes are if they can get them back to base at all he can fix them, and Legolas fell in love basically the first time he saw Gimli work his miracles with that wrench and Gimli is not in love thank you, he is very very annoyed by this chipper pilot who keeps getting holes shot in his fucking wings and he definitely doesn’t like him at all and certainly doesn’t go out of his way to tinker with Legolas’s plane all the time and make sure it’s the absolute best machine in the air oh no nope definitely not dammit and he certainly doesn’t fret every time Legolas flies off into battle or comes back with his engine smoking again that fucker oh how Gimli loathes him! until one day he finally hops out of a just-barely-landed-successfully plane that is literally on fire Legolas what the fuck you idiot and oh and he stumbles what’s wrong oh no is he hurt oh no and Gimli runs over to help him up and instead they kiss right on the runway oh fuck—!

And the whole unit has been taking bets on this forever, so Commander Strider has to come break up the fistfight between Éowyn-who-definitely-isn’t-using-her-brother’s-ID-and-the-whole-unit-doesn’t-know-she’s-secretly-a-girl-NOPE and Boromir over who now owes whom money before Boromir’s little brother, the only one in the unit who hasn’t figured out that Éowyn is a girl yet, does something stupid trying to stop his brother fighting with “the fellow” he definitely doesn’t have a crush on Boromir please—!

Strider is so tired. He didn’t sign-up for herding idiots in love, he’s just trying to win the damn war, do you lads MIND???

Lord Mithrandir is sitting in his office watching the show from the window and laughing so hard, he fucking loves his deranged pilots so much. He has pulled  so many blatant cover-ups for their hijinks, and everybody in high command knows that he’s tossing aside regulations left and right, but his units are the most successful pilots in the damn skies so nobody can do anything about it dammit. (He’s also definitely in cahoots with General Galadriel, who pulls his ass out of the fire every damn time somebody tries to bestow some kind of reprimand or punishment, and who gets regular “briefings” about his pilots that absolutely aren’t just gossip in disguise, and which she certainly doesn’t pass along to her granddaughter who’s engaged to Commander Strider, who definitely isn’t royalty in disguise, nope nope and also nope.)

[midnightsnyx]

girl at home | mat barzal | part 9

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of pregnancy, not edited word count: 2.1k authors note: i am back with a little less brain!! (literally) it took me a bit to start writing again cause I had some slowness on my right side so I wasn't quite up to writing. BUT i hope you guys like p9 and thank you so much for the continuous love on this story <3 the first bit is marlee's POV and after the * it's back to readers pov. hope u all like & pls lmk what you think <3

masterlist masterpost ask box

MARLEE

Marlee Jones loved her job. It was something she took pride in; helping bring new lives into the world and being there for all the mamas. Of course there were always the hard days, the days that made her hug Stella a little tighter when she got home from a shift. Her job had its ups and downs, but at the end of the day, she wouldn’t want to do anything else. 

So, her panic is warranted when she comes across a certain patient file. She wasn’t looking for it, but when her eyes caught the name and there weren’t any other people nearby, she couldn’t help herself. It’s against HIPAA, and if anybody found out, she would be fired without question but she slipped the file in between a couple others and walked to a random supply closet. She closed and locked the door behind her before pulling the file out and opening it. Her eyes quickly scanned the pages, the words Hysterical Pregnancy making her heart race. She had to double check the name on the file twice, before believing it. 

She knew that someone would notice the missing file, so she quickly found a printer and copied the pages, tucking them in her tote bag and putting the file exactly where it was. 

Nobody would know.

*

Your first instinct is to calm Marlee down. Her panicking is making you panic and at least one of you needs to keep a straight head. You’re trying to let her words sink in without letting your mind go down a rabbit hole. You need to see all the facts before letting yourself do that.

“Marlee,” you reach out to grab her shaking hands. “What happened?”

She looks up at you and takes a deep breath. “I can’t- I can’t tell you the details but she’s not pregnant. She lied, and it’s already caused so much damage between you, and Mat and Liana… and Nora.” She pulls her hands away from yours and buries her face in them.

You decide not to remind her that Mat already fucked things up before Calista dropped the baby bomb on him because she knows that. Focus on one disaster at a time. 

Calista lied about being pregnant. Mat doesn’t know this, and even if you try to tell him, you have no idea how he’ll react. Really, it’s none of your business and you can very well go on with your life because Mat has let you know loud and clear what his feelings are. He wants Calista in his life despite you not wanting her in Nora’s life. He technically has no rights, no say in what happens but when he first found out about her and asked to be in her life, you’d so desperately wanted to let him. 

“How long can she pull off this lie until he finds out the truth?” you ask quietly and she lifts her head from her hands.

“Depends,” she mumbles.

“On what?”

“How deep she has him pulled into her fantasy.”

. . .

You let Nora spend a little more time with Stella, mainly wanting her to burn as much energy from the sugar high she’s on from the ice-cream. She’s sleepy when you buckle her in her carseat and you’re pretty sure she’s asleep but she mumbles something and you look to see her looking at you with droopy eyes.

“What was that?” you ask softly.

She looks down, avoiding eye contact with you which is worrisome. 

“Do you think Mat would want to see me?” she whispers. “Without her?”

She obviously doesn’t need to clarify who she's referring to and it breaks your heart that a six-year-old has to worry about things like this. 

“I can ask,” you tell her, unsure why she wants to see him suddenly. “You don’t have to go see Mat if you don’t want to, baby.”

By now, you’re pulling into your driveway so you can turn the jeep off and turn to give her your full attention. She still won’t look at you so you reach out and tap on her leg until she looks up. 

“I want to,” she says but doesn’t elaborate so you don’t push. 

“Okay, I’ll call him tomorrow.”

She just nods and starts to unbuckle her seatbelt so you get out and help her. She doesn’t complain when you carry her inside, helping her change into pajamas and brush her teeth. When she asks if she can watch a movie before bed, you don’t have the heart to deny her, even though it’s close to her bedtime so you set her up on the couch and put her favorite movie on. She’ll be out like a light in less than twenty minutes so while you’re waiting, you grab your phone and pull up Mat’s contact. Your finger hovers over the call option but you’re not sure you want to talk to him over the phone so you go into your text messages instead. The last messages between the two of you were when you last met up and even then they were short and to the point which makes this text easily simple.

To Mat: Nora wants to see you.

You lay your phone on the counter and get a glass of water while waiting for his response. You’re unnecessarily nervous, mainly because you are expecting him to start an argument the moment you tell him that Nora doesn’t want Calista to be there. You don’t even feel comfortable letting Mat see her because of what he said, but you can’t turn her request down. Not when she was so adamant about not wanting to see him, and out of the blue deciding that she does. 

When you check on Nora while waiting for a response, she’s asleep so you pick her up and carry her to bed. You spend a minute just watching her after you’ve tucked her in. You’re desperate to see what’s going on in that little head of hers.

Just as you walk back to the kitchen, your phone buzzes and you freeze. Maybe messaging Mat tonight was a bad idea, and you should’ve just waited until tomorrow. It’s too late now though so you walk over and look to see Mat’s name and an unread message. 

From Mat: ok

From Mat: when?

It bothers you, how nonchalant he’s acting after everything that’s happened. This is about Nora though, so you take a breath and try to decide on a date.

To Mat: Sunday?

From Mat: ok

You want to scream at him and take back the offer but remind yourself again that Nora explicitly asked to see him and it’s her decision to make. 

So, you set up a place and time and tell him that she doesn’t want to see Calista. You expect him to argue, but he responds with another simple ok, and that’s that. 

. . .

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Marlee asks, crossing her arms and glaring at Mat who’s sitting on a bench at the park you agreed to meet at. The two of you are standing outside her jeep, stalling a little before going over there. 

Nora asked if Stella could come to the park too and Marlee was pulling out of her driveway before you could finish asking. You’re a little worried that she’s going to yell at Mat, but you figure with the kids there, she will contain herself unless he says something out of line.

“Nora asked to see him,” you remind her but she just grumbles something under her breath. 

You’re ready to get this over with so you open the door and let Nora and Stella climb out of the jeep. Normally, they would race to the playground but Nora is hesitating, glancing over to where Mat is. He hasn’t noticed that you’re here yet which is good, because you are about five seconds away from just putting the kids back in and driving away. 

Nora sighs quietly before walking over to Mat. You and Marlee hang back a little but Stella grabs her hand and sticks close to her. 

When Mat sees her, his face lights up and for a second, you want to forgive him so everything can go back to how it was before. You can’t though, not when what he said is still so fresh and not when you know about Calista’s lies.

“Hey peanut,” he says softly, staying seated while Nora stands in front of him, looking down and scuffing her shoe on the gravel. He looks at you when she doesn’t say anything but you just shrug even though you’re confused. You’re about to ask Nora if she wants to just go to the playground when she breaks her silence.

“Are you not my daddy?” she asks quietly and it takes you off guard. You had this conversation with her, assuring her that Calista was lying but she must want to hear it from Mat.

“What?” he asks, looking at you before turning his attention back to her.

“Calista told me that you’re not my daddy,” she says more firmly, finally looking up at him. Her arms are crossed and she’s glaring at him. You’d be impressed if you weren’t so worried about what Mat may say.

His mouth opens and closes a couple times and he looks like a fish out of water. He looks at you again, as if he’s expecting you to step in but you just raise an eyebrow at him as if to say I told you so.

“I think she was confused-” he begins to say which is absolutely the wrong thing to say because it sets Nora off. 

She stomps her foot and her glare hardens. “No! She said that mommy lied and that you’re not really my daddy. She told me that I don’t have a daddy.”

Before he can say anything, she’s storming off toward the playground, Stella chasing after her. 

“Do I need to say I told you so?” you ask sharply, now that the kids are out of hearing range.

“You just did,” he mumbles and Marlee, who has been quiet up until now, steps towards Mat.

“You’re a piece of work,” she snaps and Mat looks at her confused. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Do I need to repeat myself?” she says, and you’re more than happy to let her say what’s on her mind. 

“You’re letting your girlfriend tell your daughter that you’re not her father, and instead of comforting Nora, you’re trying to defend your girlfriend!” 

For a moment, you’re scared Marlee is going to get angry enough that she’ll tell him the truth about Calista, but she takes a deep breath and turns away to go to where the girls are playing. You watch her walk over until she reaches them before turning back to Mat. 

He’s staring at the ground and you don’t know why you’re still standing here but you guess you’re just waiting for Mat to say something.

“I fucked up,” he eventually mumbles and you scoff. 

“When did you come to that brilliant conclusion?” 

There’s the tiniest part of you that wants to bring up Calista, just to see if he’ll tell you anything but you’re not sure you’re in the mood to hear about her. Not when you know the truth. 

“Liana is mad at me,” he tells you, which is news, because you thought she was just angry at you. 

“I can’t imagine why.”

You look back at Nora, smiling when you see her laughing. She looks more like herself, rather than the gloomy kid she’s been the past couple days since she asked to see Mat. Like she got what was bothering her off her tiny shoulders. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mat doing the same but his smile isn’t as real. If you weren’t still angry at him, you’d feel bad but you can’t let go of what he said and the fact that he tried again to defend Calista. 

“She’s a good kid,” he says softly and you hum in agreement. 

“Did you know?” he asks, “that she was going to say that?”

“No,” you tell him. It’s not a lie - she didn’t tell you why she wanted to see Mat, and you didn’t want to push. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, but you shake your head and look directly at him.

“Sorry isn’t going to fix it this time. Marlee was right, instead of apologizing to Nora, who deserves to hear that more than me, you won’t stop making excuses for Calista,” you tell him. “I don’t know what you’re expecting from Nora and I, but sorry isn’t the answer.” 

He frowns, but nods, seemingly accepting your response. You leave it at that and walk over to where Nora, Stella, and Marlee are, grinning when your daughter reaches for you. She hugs you when you pick her up and when you look back at the bench Mat was sitting at, he’s already gone.

tag list: @literatureluster @dasiysthings @barzyblogbabe @diary-of-jj @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls @lovinbarzal @whatthepuckisgoingon @teapartydreams @alilstressyandlotdepressy @keiva1000 @hischiershoe @bellstwd @alwaysclassyeagle @brrbrina @nonsensical-nonsence

@love-like-woaah @cycy9 @swift-sos

if you want to be added or taken off the tag list please let me know! & if you asked to be tagged and I didn't it's cause your @ didn't come up when i searched

[jewish-sideblog]

hey, so im Palestinian and a strong activist for my people's liberation. i wanted to ask for some info/advice on avoiding antisemitism in my activism for Palestine. im on anon bc i don't want to be called a racefaker for caring about Jewish ppl. i know antisemitism is on the rise right now (and generally over the past few years) and i want to make sure i'm not unintentionally contributing to it.

Hey there! I wanted to start by genuinely thanking you for asking this question. Partially because I don't actually get any well-intentioned or helpful questions in my inbox anymore, but also because I understand the amount of bravery it takes to reach out with a question like that at a time like this.

Next, I want to apologize to all my followers who hate long posts. Judaism is a very complicated ethnoreligious group, antisemitism is a very complicated form of bigotry, and the Israeli/Palestinian conflict is arguably the most complicated international issue that has ever existed. I'm going to try to go through everything as succinctly as possible below the cut-- I am also going to ask other Jews to contribute to and make edits to this list as needed.

And finally-- I'm writing this as though I were speaking to someone with very little knowledge of the subject. I understand that as a Palestinian, you probably know a lot about what's going on here. But I want to make sure that I'm covering bases for anybody else who might need to use this post. So if you're like, Yeah, Obviously I Knew That. Please remember that a fuckton of people on tumblr are engaging in Israeli criticism without obviously knowing that.

There are two primary forms of antisemitism in anti-Zionist spaces-- antisemitic conspiracy theory, and criticism of Israel that no other country receives. The first kind is the easiest kind to pick out, and it makes a nice bulleted list, so we'll start there.

Dual Loyalty. A global stereotype that has skyrocketed since the establishment of Israel, but it's been around for a lot longer than that. Simply put, it's the idea that Jews are more loyal to Israel (or some global secret kabal) than we are to the countries we currently reside in. With I/P, it manifests as the idea that All Jews are directly responsible for Israel or the idea that All Jews secretly support Israel. If you see a Jew who isn't directly engaging in I/P topics, don't ask them what their stance is. Plenty of us have never even been to Israel, and it's fucked up to assume that we're all experts in geopolitics.

The Holocaust was a Fabrication or a Lesson. The idea that Jews made up the Shoah has been around since the Shoah was still happening, and it's always been ridiculous. Today, you'll see three primary lines about this. Either it's that Jews made up the Shoah as an excuse to establish Israel, that the Jews deserved the Shoah because of what's happening in Israel today, or that the Jews "should have learned their lesson from the Holocaust" because now Jews are "the new Nazis". Frankly, I wish goyim would stop treating the deaths of millions of Jews like a TV show. Palestinian deaths are genuinely horrible, but this isn't some kind of "narrative parallel" to the Shoah.

The Kazars Theory, or All Jews are White. This is the DNA test nonsense. The idea is that Israel (or Jews at large) are only pretending to be indigenous to the Levant and that secretly Jews as a whole are actually indigenous to Eastern Europe. It's a lie, started by a German professor of Russian history in the early 1800s. Meanwhile, the vast majority of genetic, historical, and archaeological evidence points to Jewish origins in the Israeli/Palestinian region. There have been literal hundreds of genetic studies on this. Most of them suggest that Jews, even "white" Ashkenazim, are nearly genetically identical to Palestinians.

World Domination. The idea that Jews control the world began with the Protocols of the Elders of Zion in 1903. If you're encountering criticism of Israel that suggests that world governments, particularly European or American ones, are being controlled by Jews, you've got yourself antisemitism. White supremacists like to use the term "Zionist Occupied Government" or "ZOG" as shorthand for this conspiracy. The next two points are born out of this same ideology.

Controlling the Media. The idea that Jews are in charge of Hollywood and/or major news organizations around the world. Regarding I/P, I've seen a bunch of people say something like "Western media outlets won't cover this! (Because you know who controls them!)" only to look online and see... Western media outlets covering it. See also: "My source is tiktok! I don't trust the news!" While it's obviously a fair criticism to say that some Western news outlets certainly have a pro-Israel and anti-Palestinian bias, it's certainly not every single one of them. Reuters and the AP are once again my go-to's here.

Controlling the Financial World. I haven't actually seen this come up regarding I/P, but considering how things have been going, it's only a matter of time. We don't control the banks. We don't control the stock market. We're not in charge of American aid being sent to Israel. HaShem knows that if we controlled all the money, I'd certainly be living larger than I am now...

Those Bloodthirsty Jews. This one arguably started with Blood Libel in the 1100s, when Christians started accusing us of stealing and eating their babies. Straight up, I have met Christians who still believe this in 2023. You see this a lot with I/P-- the Al Ahli Hospital is the biggest example. More than a month later, most reliable intelligence organizations agree that a misfired Hamas rocket landed in a parking lot, killing about 100 people. But a ton of people are still saying that Those Bloodthirsty Jews intentionally bombed the hospital dead on, killing 470 people. I want to be clear-- Israel is killing a lot of civilians. But if you see a bandwagon of people focusing on the one group of deaths that Israel probably actually didn't cause? Consider why.

Causing wars, revolutions, and calamities. Hamas has straight-up got this one in their founding charter. No, the Jews are not responsible for any major global conflicts, revolutions, or counter-revolutions that don't directly involve Israel. We didn't do WWII. We didn't do the October Revolution. See above-- we're not secretly plotting massacres on Shabbat. A lot of people are saying that Netanyahu and Likud let Hamas in to justify the invasion of Gaza... I'd be shocked if that was the case. All evidence points to a classic intelligence failure. We're not orchestrating bloodbaths.

Section 2: Criticisms only levelled at Israel

It's important to recognise that Israeli civilians are no more collectively responsible for the actions of the Likud coalition than Palestinians are collectively responsible for the actions of Hamas. No Palestinian deserves to be stripped of their rights to self-determination in their ancestral lands because of the October 7th attack. Likewise, no Chinese person deserves to be displaced from China because of the CCP's human rights violations in Tibet, Uyghur and Hong Kong. No Russian person deserves to be ethnically cleansed from Russia because of the Kremlin's invasion of Ukraine. But plenty of people do believe that Jews should be stripped of their rights to self-determination in historically Jewish indigenous lands because of the actions of the Israeli government.

After October 7th, I've seen people argue that Israeli babies deserved to be kidnapped because of their national origin. I've seen people argue that Israeli women deserved to be sexually abused because of their nation of origin. I've seen people argue that the seven million Jews living in their ancestral homeland deserve death or displacement because of their nation of origin. Justifying or allowing brutal harm against people because of their national origin is hateful.

I want to make this part very clear-- I do not have an issue with calling out Israeli war crimes or crimes against humanity. But I do have an issue with treating Jewish civilians differently than civilians of other nations responsible for similar horrors. Amplifying bias against a particular group because of that group's nation of origin is called bigotry. Taking a stand against Israeli settlements in the West Bank is anti-Zionism. Collectivizing the label of "white colonialism", and forcing that label upon refugees forced to move to Israel, or Mizrahim with uninterrupted 8,000-year histories in Israel, is antisemitism.

Part 3: Moving Forward

So where do we go from here? If advocating for the destruction of Israel is advocating for the elimination of Jewish self-determination in our ancestral lands, but advocating in favour of the Israeli government is advocating for the elimination of Palestinian self-determination in your ancestral lands, then we must find some middle ground. A solution that allows seven million Jews and five-and-a-half-million Arabs to share the same holy land, without fear of persecution, displacement, or death. For me, this means a few things.

First of all, the recognition that most Israelis disagree with Netanyahu's approach to Palestine, and most Palestinians disagree with Hamas's approach to Israel. And that brings up a question-- why are Likud and Hamas in charge of Israel and Gaza respectively if most people disagree with them? Without getting into the complicated intricacies of the Knesset and the PNA on an already very long post (and without explaining your own government to you), the simple answer is international funds.

Israeli crimes against Palestinians are bankrolled by American Evangelical Christians, who believe that when Palestine is gone, all the Jews will go to Israel, and Jesus will come back to kill the world's infidels. They actually fucking believe that. Meanwhile, Hamas is bankrolled by Iran, which believes that the more often Jews and Sunni Muslims kill each other, the easier it will be for Iranian Shiite Jihad to take over the world. They actually fucking believe that.

So what steps can we take during our advocacy? Not for the destruction of Israel nor the destruction of Palestine, but for America and Iran to get their noses out of our damn business. I genuinely believe that a defunded Likud and a defunded Hamas will allow Israelis and Palestinians to work together for a peaceful two-state or joint-rule solution. Something that will keep my Palestinian friends from feeling like they can't safely travel from Jaffa to Tel Aviv. Something that will allow my Jewish family to visit and pray at the Cenotaphs of Isaac and Rebecca and the Temple Mount. Something that will let Israeli children from Kibbutz Nirim and Palestinian children from Khan Yunis play on the same playgrounds together, instead of sheltering from missile fire.

Frankly, we nearly had that when the Supreme Muslim Council and the Assembly of Representatives began collaborating against the British Mandate instead of against each other. Clearly, it's possible, we just need to stop being pitted against each other by foreign powers.

[drdemonprince]

to the anon who sent me the message that took them 4 hours to draft.

I think your experience both with organizing and disability has probably provoked you to rethink the entire concept of "success" as our culture has defined it, even if you feel yourself still longing for some of the comfort and ease that capitalistic success can seemingly provide (or that we are conditioned to believe it can provide). im not sure what to say that can match the effort your put into your message, in fact i am galled by the fact that i know that i can't match that effort. i don't know how to make sense of the fact that a person who is finding it incredibly difficult to remain connected and engaged during this time, due to disability, has decided that i was worth that level of effort when they don't have the energy to message people they know. i don't think i am worth that effort. but i also respect that mired in all that you're mired in, it's a meaningful gesture toward engagement and connection to even bother writing such a message. i just think in a lot of ways i am a misplaced target for it, because i am a ridiculously privileged and publicly exposed individual who receives dozens of heartfelt messages that he doesnt find the time to respond to every single day. i think if anything that i've written rubs you the wrong way you'd be right to approach it with cynicism. because what the fuck do i know, banging around on my laptop every day and getting paid for it. how dare i lecture anybody about not unlearning capitalism adequately enough. i am one of capitalisms little milking cows. a massive publishing company makes a weekly profit off of me, off the byproduct of the worst years of my life and my worst traumas, as well as the meaning i've made from the scholarship of others.

i'm so enraged for you that you got a debilitating case of COVID (after several other cases) on an encampment, and that now the community you foster at that encampment is not there for you. i am disgusted at how more seasoned activists and organizations have regarded student protestors as disposable this entire year, selling them out to the cops, cutting bad deals with campus administration, and sending them to yellow and red risk level actions without adequate communication and getting them kettled and beat, or else nullifying their efforts with mealy-mouthed talk about keeping things peaceful. i see so many toothless, neoliberal protests happening here, ones that serve only as fundraisers for massive nonprofit orgs, and i also see literal teenagers being dragged right into paddy wagons by the likes of the PSL or the RCP while the Dems deride them and dance to Brat tracks, not even pretending to care the way they unconvincingly did in say 2020.

It's all making me terribly cynical, wondering where we are headed and whether i can or should encourage people who are younger, stronger, more energetic, more pliable, and more vulnerable to me to give up all that they've got for a cause when it's likely gonna be chewed up and spit out and not met in effort by anyone else. i am mournful of the fact that even i can't match that effort. every time i get a message from a friend or acquaintance who is going through some new awful traumatizing event i want to just curl up and disappear, because i can't even keep up with sending compassionate messages to all of them, let alone actually showing the fuck up and doing anything for them. and so sometimes i slip into the disaffected, blunted feeling that once led me as a younger man into libertarianism, thinking that all i can or should do is look after my own wellbeing, and fuck everybody else. and obviously that is a horrible path that is not by any means moral and certainly didn't help me anyway. it felt like we were on the brink of a great paradigm shift of some kind, a collapse of these evil systems, and now it feels like all of that is as far away as it's ever been, and that there aren't enough people with class consciousness and care for one another to make it happen.

i don't know. i think we all have to abandon our dreams of success, of comfort, of saving the world, the fantasies of everything being fine. i think we need to look to our immediate surroundings and our communities. i think we need to ask for help a whole hell of a lot more than any of us are doing, and to recognize that that is a form of helping. i think we need to get small. and remember we are weak animals. and stop thinking there is anything special or chosen about us. and to remember that nature can often be very cruel and that there is nothing we are owed. disabled people already know this of course, we know life isn't fair. we try to do what we can and yet we wake up feeling even less capable the next day, and it knows no logic and the universe remains indifferent to it. but there are people around us who can care, when we ask them to. and ways that we can just be there alongside one another in the muck of it all. not even necessarily making things better. certainly not being a savior and making the pain go away. maybe just sitting in the muck together.

all of which is to say, i am feeling stuck and overwhelmed and useless myself, anon, and i dont have any more answers than you. but thanks for messaging. im sorry people have taking advantage of you. including in my opinion lots of other activists. looking after yourself and not letting people guilt you doesn't mean turning into a conservative. the kind of anarchy that i am embracing right now is one that goes beyond linear change, beyond making meaning, beyond any idealistic visions of the future, beyond even fighting for some kind of symbolic survival. it's just being. none of it has to mean anything, none of it has to be headed anywhere. it just is. there is plenty for you to be bitter about.

[klausysworld]

Hi I am absolutely obsessed with your writing can you make a klaus being possesive headcanons?

Possessive Klaus HeadCanons:

Klaus is naturally possessive, he doesn’t like to share, what’s his is his and that’s that.

This won’t change when it comes to you.

Possessiveness and jealous sort of blur for Klaus because he is on the high end of the spectrum for both.

He sees someone, anyone looking at you a little too long and he can feels that ugly emotion bubbling inside him. He can’t stop himself from storming towards you and dragging you away from whatever conversation you were in

As soon as he had a grip on you, you’re being passionately kissed, his mouth devouring yours hungrily.

You’re given no breathing time as he shoved you against the wall groping you aggressively

Once he pulls away your panting, lips swollen and pupils blown with lust. His ego is instantly boosted and he’s confident that you aren’t going to be wanting anybody else

Klaus is quick to have a hand on you when in social situations, a room full of bloodthirsty vampires, pissed off werewolves and overconfident witches does not pair well with his paranoia.

Arm round your waist while your back is pressed to his front as he guides you to get a drink. He’ll lean over you to grab your glass, he would tip it into your mouth if you’d let him but you manage to rip it out of his hand with a huff

He would then keep himself pressed against you, swaying to the music as he spoke to his brother, you knew better than to walk off, his grip was strong anyways so there wasn’t much point in trying.

He would later have you twirling around the dance floor, spinning back into his arms and listening to your laugh. His smile would be bright as he whispered in your ear “you have no idea just how gorgeous you look”

On the rare occasion that somebody would attempt to steal you for a dance he would just straight up tear their throat out. There was no wiggle room when it came to that. Nobody would have their hands on you, whether it was ‘innocent’ or not. Especially the not so innocent.

A lot of the time you would have to pull him away from situations, tugging at his jacket “klaus please, let’s just go upstairs okay?” you would whisper, his gaze would soften when he saw the slight fear in your eyes and so he would follow you back to your shared bedroom.

It may start with an apology for his violently nature but he would then progress back to his animalistic ways and be thrusting roughly into you to the point where the bed smacks the wall and the frame breaks

“tell me your mine” he would husk into your ear, “i’m all yours, only yours” you would pant back

He makes sure to leave many many marks along your neck, chest, thighs and anywhere else he can get to. These may be love bites or just bites. He wants all supernatural creatures to know that he has both fucked you and marked you recently, that you are not available for taking and are already owned. Humans shouldn’t even think they had a chance with you anyway but on the odd chance they did, they should be able to see the layers of hickeys and back off.

The next morning hell have you in his arms, probably sat on his hip wearing only panties and his henley, marks on display and drowning in his scent. His ego would be peaked as he sat with your tired body straddling his, seeing his girl all weak and reliant on him while other vampires walked around the compound to see her clung to him, god he could just fuck you right there.

He’s definitely up to make you scream his name loud enough to echo through the entire compound, the entirety of New Orleans if your able.

He is however very careful with public sex because if anyone were to ever see your body, your most vulnerable state, he would go mental. He would personally gauge their eyes out and apologise relentlessly for putting you in such a position

Speaking of public situations, he doesn’t like you going out alone. Possessive Klaus isn’t as bad as yandere Klaus but also not far off.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you or think that you would run off, no he loves you and he knows you’re feelings a genuine and real.

He just doesn’t trust a single living thing on the planet. He gets jealous of everything, once you asked for a puppy and he could already picture you giving more attention to the dog than you would him, it was an absolute no… until you wear him down.

Klaus makes sure you have something of his on you at all times. Its often a necklace, he has quite a few so it’s easy to have you wear it. Sometimes he gets you to wear his boxers instead of your own underwear, this is normally when it’s going to be a busy supernatural environment, he had to make sure they could smell him on you. On days where you just wore jeans he would make sure to slip his shirts into your wardrobe, a silent demand to wear it.

One time you told him you were upset that he never wore anything of yours and got insecure that he might be as much yours and you are his. He was quick to aid those thoughts, he made sure you understood that he belonged you and only you. From that day he has worn a bracelet of your choosing each day.

Klaus loves you and is going to want everyone to know that.

(sorry this took so long to write)

[visionsofmagic]

make you regret. | miguel o’hara x spiderwoman!reader  

[ao3 | masterlist | part 2]

summary: “keep talking shit and i’ll show you the other things i can do with that mouth of yours.” & “aw, it hurts? too bad. you’re gonna keep taking it until I’m satisfied.”

part 1 • wc: 2.4k • warnings&tags: nsfw, minors dni!, fluff (so little), chocking, oral > m!receiving, kissing, pet names, explicit language, angry and mad!miguel, SPOILER FOR THE MOVIE, biting, licking, squeezing, dominant!miguel, mentions of miguel’s features such as his teeth, brat!reader, no use of y/n, growling, moaning, getting used, roughness, harshness, and more in the story. enjoy! • couldn’t resist to write about him since I saw him in every app I use and well, I have a thing for him like the rest of you, so, hoping you will like this one. part 2 will come soon! [credits for the prompts]  

miguel was angry. you knew it. the moment you entered his personal room to give him a piece of information about the spot and miles morales, a spiderman from earth-1610 dimension, both are anomalies, and miguel needs to stop them before all things crash into each other. he thinks he has to do it - to keep everything in line, in order to prevent any unexpected event happen in a non-canon way.

however, you don’t agree with him, not after you and gwen talked about miles, seeing how she believes in him - how she has a soft spot for him. you know she tries to save miles, nothing wanting him to get hurt. you see your own reflection in her eyes. she cares for miles and you care for miguel but still, you believe he isn’t right completely, no, you believe there is another way to make everything right without hurting anybody.

so, he is mad at you and you know it from the way he looks at the door, then when sees you, he rolls his eyes, turns to the window, and looks outside.

“what is it?” he asks, clearly wanting you to leave soon because, well, you know how he acts when he is mad like this - nothing soft, just roughness that he chooses to show within his body language by fucking you hard and well, you are in a state in which you want him to devour you because you need it too, so, you tease him.

“what a beautiful greeting you have there pretty boy.”

“don’t call me that.” he nearly growls in annoyance.

chuckling, you get what you want; a miguel on edge, ready to make you regret speaking to him like that. “oh, you liked it yesterday, though, when you were -“ pointing to your thighs after sitting on his big bed. “between my thighs.”

only the memory of it made your stomach twist in pleasure and anticipation. he looked so pretty with his cute and teary eyes, looking up to see your face overflowing with the pleasure he was giving to you. your mind goes from his presence to last night and your thighs press into each other to feel something – but you stop when you hear his voice so closely than before. looking up, you see him right in front of you, his tight suit is on like yours, but you believe his suit is the best of you all – probably because of how his body looks thanks to it. his arms folded on his well-built chest, making him look bigger than before. his one eyebrow raised as he talks, “you have guts to come here after you tell me I am doing wrong in front of every fucking else and keep talking about last night?” he is more furious than he looks, you realize and well, it doesn’t help at all, especially when you feel the excitement. luckily, you are his ally, maybe more than that as you hope, not his enemy.

“yeah, I kinda do,” you say with a smirk on your face, being a brat, totally. “the expression on your face at that moment was surely worth seeing! I should take a photo of it only to put it on my wall and see –“

“huh,” he interrupts you, realizing what you’re trying to do and it makes him calmer now but you know he will make you going to pay, and when he says, “you sure have bravery today, not that I complain,” he smirks, holding your chin with his two fingers, making your head raise up as he kneels a little closer, “keep talking shit and I’ll show you the other things I can do with that mouth of yours, pretty girl.”

the air in your lungs decreases each second as your nose can’t find a source of air to breathe because of his words that made you freeze in your place, looking up at his determined face – he is about to make you regret.

“m – miguel – I.” you try to say when you see his eyes getting darker with each passing time and his fingers play with your parted lips.

“shh, keep it,” his fingers travel to your hair, playing with it softly, “you will have all night to say you’re sorry – that you didn’t mean to get me so angry, right, my pretty girl?”

gulping in both excitement and fear, you let him hold you by your neck, kneeling down to your level, pulling you closer, and beginning to kiss you passionately – reliving a lust through his lips mixed with madness on it as well which can be felt clearly since his hold on your neck become unsteady, making your hands grip the sheets of his bed.

moaning into the moan, you realize your legs begin to shake due to the weakness you begin to have – only because of knowing what will come next, still excited as hell for it to come sooner but you can’t say it aloud, not when he only acts to give you pleasure full of pain. “miguel! I – fuck –“ you moan when he bites your bottom lip, his teeth begin to appear slowly, alerting you that the night will not be easy.

“yes, like that, take everything I give to you while just moaning like a dumb for me,” he chuckles, that dark side of him taking some control of his soft side. fear and passion can be felt at the same time by you. “I bet you wanted it even before coming in here, didn’t you?” he asks, not seeking any answer to his questions – he just loves to talk in order to make you weaker each moment before him. “thought about it, planned it, wanted to make me wanna use that mouth of yours with the way I like most.”

he was right – he knew you more than you knew yourself and when words left his mouth, you came to the conclusion that you did it all on purpose all along the moment he looked at you with an angry expression and left you in there and still, letting you go after him no matter how he was angry with you. the bond you have is a complex one, both you and he knew it; him being what you need fully and you being his blood – the only taste he finds amusing to have.

“then, I will make your dreams come true,” you look at him with hope but his smirk only grows wider and darker, “In my own way, of course.”

oh, shit – you thought, he was going to do it roughly.

taking a little back, he looks down at your body, making you close your thighs together but he stops you, putting his legs between your thighs, opening them wider as you go back a little, palms behind you – on the surface of the bed, head raising up. “wider.” he commands, the voice turns into something that gives chills down to your spine as you open your legs wider – wide open that he can look at right into thighs, watching how the suit cling to your body fully, leaving lots of specific parts of your body visible to his eyes – another thing you did on purpose before arriving into his room.

“good – “ he says, “good girl.” so, he begins to use pet names now, well, it is a sign that these are the times he still acts soft before turning into a beast.

“miguel,” you try to say before his hands found your breasts over your suit, gripping them with his big hands. you can’t feel the warmness of his hands though and it only makes you want more, to feel him closely, not over your suit and not when his gloves are still on, “please. let me – let me take this off.” you point to the suit, hoping he will let you before it continues to give you half pleasure and half annoyance.

“huh,” he chuckles, playing with your hardened nipples, squeezing them not so gently. “did you believe I would be – nice enough to let you get pleasure so easily like that? oh, how delicate of you,” he kisses you again, biting it again. you sure he will leave a few red marks on there. “to think that I will be soft tonight.”

he then goes back, standing with his all glory, taking his hands back to put them on the lower part of the suit, and before your mind can make a comprehension of his actions, he opens his zipper, freeing his half-hardened thick and long cock right into your shocked face. saliva begins to appear on your half-open mouth when you see it. your hand makes an attempt to hold his cock but he is faster, gripping you from the wrist, tightly. you look at his face, “not hands. mouth.” he is not smirking or teasing no more, he just stands there, waiting for you to use your mouth.

“c’mon, open it,” he orders, and you listen to him without wasting any time, opening it widely enough but still, he is bigger than you can take. however, it isn’t like he used your mouth before – gently of course, but now, it doesn’t seem so gentle. “yeah, like that. a cock dumb – I will make you a cock dumb.”

you already are – just for him. however, you can’t tell it when he gives a few strokes to his cock, making it hardened and put it right into your open mouth in an instant, making you choke on his cock.

“m- mi – guel!” your voice is blurry as you close your eyes when he makes you take it all as much as you can.

“can’t speak freely when you have my cock in your wet mouth, huh?” he smirks again, taking his cock back, leaving so much salvia on your mouth that even a few of them connects your mouth with his cock, dripping into your suit from there and you only can cough in pain. pain – it is what you get a minute ago but still, you want to take it again. so, you look up at miguel’s face – satisfied expression on.

“again,” you say, confident of yourself. “I want it.” then, you open your mouth wider than before, leaning closer to his cock enough that its tip touches your lips from time to time as he strokes his length.

he chuckles, a little surprised by your words. “you are already a cock dumb for me, don’t you? fuck – I want to ruin you without even making you suffer. but, it should wait,” he puts his hand on your cheek, caressing it and then, moving to your back hair, pulling it roughly, earning a low growl from you which he enjoys – always. “I need to fill up that mouth of yours first fully.”

he nods to you and you know what you should do. firstly, you let your tongue slide on his cock from tip to the end, even giving a few licks on his heavy balls, making him growl – coming like melodies into your ears that you keep licking more and finally, you take half of it, trying to get used to it but miguel has other plans with you – rough and harsh ones; he holds your hair, pushing you forward. his cock touches the back of your mouth and you literally begin to cry in pain, choke on his cock, gasping, you try to take breaths but it is so hot – he is so hot.

salvias appear in your mouth, dripping from your lips onto his cock, making you move easier than before and you know he will not stop until he cums, so, you let him have his way with you; holding you from the hair, pushing your head forward and backward rapidly – roughly, moaning as he looks down at your pathetic face, his cock disappearing inside your wet eager mouth, earning beautiful sounds from you too.

holding his thick thighs, you try to find a source to stay still, not to fall into the ground because of the impact of him – fucking your mouth without thinking about the air you need, the pain you get, blurry vision because of tears running from your half-closed eyes to your cheeks, finally finding their places on his cock.

“m – mi –!” words can’t go out of your mouth which is getting used by miguel.

his gloomy eyes found yours, and the sight he sees makes him go deeper, want to remind you that silly actions and talks mean no good for you, not when you use them against his, even if they only have a purpose to be in a state like this, but apparently, you didn’t wait for him to be this rough. he didn’t too. nevertheless, he is having one of the best moments of his life.

“aw, it hurts? too bad. you’re gonna keep taking it until I’m satisfied,” he says, closing his eyes again as he throws his head back, feeling your warm mouth and lips around his cock. your nails scratching his thighs. “you gonna make me cum hard.”

and you do. it doesn’t take him any longer when you begin to moan in pleasure rather than pain, sending radiations to his cock, hands hug to his wrists, and you literally bounce on his cock. his hands hold you from the cheeks.

moaning, leaving a few growls, he says, “fuck, fuck – so good, so fucking good – !” and he cums into your mouth.

he stays still for a moment before looking down, seeing you look at him too. his one hand leaves your cheek while the other stays to caress it. he slowly takes his cock back from your mouth, letting all his semen stay in there too. when he takes off, you close your mouth, gulping a few times in order to leave no semen to go wasted, not after he gives you all.

breathtaking voices come from both of you. hotness spreading through your veins, keeping you warm. he says, “open your mouth.” you do, opening it. he nods in a satisfied manner.

your chest raises up and down while you are taking deep and rapid breaths to calm yourself down and miguel’s fingers find your eyes, cleaning tears away, getting softer.

“you look so pretty now,” he says, kissing your forehead, “but you will look prettier when you have my cock buried deep inside your walls doll.” he gives you a smirk and you realize it is not over – you're not even close to it.

“still wanna make me regret my words?” you ask, smiling, knowing damn well this is going much better than you think.

“no, not at all,” he shrugs, “I just want to put you in a position that you forget what you were having regret for.”

to be continued.

[waitmyturtles]

THE MORNING AFTER: ONLY FRIENDS, EPISODE 7 ("YOU GOT TO KNOW WHEN TO HOLD 'EM / KNOW WHEN TO FOLD 'EM") EDITION

Whew, baby. Well, I found this episode particularly brutal.

I've been noodling this week on the following theme: the mundanity of toxicity. The everyday-ness of bad in people. I think this episode captured this well (cc @lurkingshan, @neuroticbookworm, and @bengiyo, who all got a little preview of this thinking).

But I caught some other themes in this episode, too, which I'll quickly hit and list:

2) The elements of life, and 3) Gambling.

As a devoted meta writer, writing about Only Friends is hard. Because: I want to think that there's a lot more to what I'm seeing. I am certainly missing cinematic references that Jojo and team are making (I haven't watched Queer As Folk, for instance). Mew's face popping out of the bathtub? That has me wondering if I'm missing a cinematic reference there.

But at the same time, I wonder if by just observing the Only Friends crew, that I'm picking up on enough. When I was in my twenties, living in New York City, going to college...I was still trying to figure people out. I was absolutely SURROUNDED by people, and I couldn't help but think, everyday -- what is it that makes these people tick?

And I found myself regularly shocked at how mean people were. Very often, I'd just be like -- what the actual fuck, why are you trying so hard to be a massive dick? And, who knows -- maybe people were thinking the same thing about me.

That was when I was young. I just -- I didn't know that much about people. Really, what I didn't know -- and what I really NEEDED to know, and what I learned about myself in that decade and the next -- was how to manage myself around anybody, so as to preserve myself from any unpredictable pain that might come from someone else. In other words... I needed to fucking grow up.

Part of that self-management was trying on identities. Could I fake being a stronger person? Sure, I definitely tried. I tried with clothes, with new slang, with trying new activities, with drinking. That's just normal for a lass in their twenties.

The Only Friends crew -- they are assholes. Many of them were trying on change a couple of weeks ago. Mew experienced a HUGE identity shift during this episode.

But what they all embody to me, in this moment in their lives, is a kind of everyday toxicity -- a self-absorbed perspective, so tunneled internally into each and every one of them, that none of them are realizing that the energy they put out is colliding and having effects on others.

Like -- it's kind of shocking and twisted to watch. But when I think about it, when I remember what it was like to be in a huge city and to be in college and post-college: there's a part of me that remembers being CONSTANTLY surprised that people were just massive jerks, everyday, and again, who knows -- I think people likely thought that I was a jerk, too, for thinking of myself and leading myself with my life.

People, most people, grow out of these stages, as they get older, get more experienced in their years, maybe get more political in their dealings with others. I can't condemn this group of university students fully, as I hold hope (I'm a mom, damn it) that they'll grow into more fully robust and empathic people. But they ain't there yet. I'm not sure my turning stones gives me more insight to them than in relating to my own experiences as a former twentysomething. It has me thinking, as someone who loves turning those stones in my beloved dramas.

That all being said. Those two other themes in this episode have me thinking -- the elements of life and gambling.

We saw Mew play with fire (fucking finally, my man). And we saw lots of water -- water in the pool, water in the tub with Sand and Ray.

Water puts out fire. Mew tries to fake-drown (lol) Boston in the pool. Later on, Mew lets Boston know that he (Mew) can take Boston down, but won't. Mew is trying to control the fires that he's lit, and the ones that have already been burning.

My question to Mew is: do you know how to do what you are doing, or what you want to do?

I don't quite think so, and I think that "Welcome to Las Vegas" shirt he was wearing at Boston's house indicated as much.

(Uh, first of all, chain life, Book! MORE, MORE!)

Mew has decided to become a gambler. Let's think of all the metaphors! Mew has decided to roll the dice and possibly move past the pass line. He's decided to play his odds. He even STACKED his odds -- going to a new gay bar, enticing Drake Gap, going back to Gap's place, stealing the sex tape from Gap's computer, threatening Gap with reporting him for a crime, going to BOSTON'S HOUSE, TALKING TO BOSTON'S DAD, showing Boston the copy of the sex tape, THREATENING BOSTON, MAKING BOSTON BEG, showing MORAL SUPERIORITY OVER BOSTON, throwing the flash drive at Boston, and walking away. Like, if that were a metaphor for actually playing craps, first of all, lol, the pit guy would check Mew's ID, get him a players' card, and encourage him to move to the high limits room, being like, WHAT is this motherfucker DOING, but we want him doing more of it, he'll make us more money -- once he starts fucking things up.

Mew's trying on a new identity. He already was on the road to it, getting that LASIK for Top. He's just continuing to move forward with it. He's going to play with nastiness, but still try to come out on Top.

Trying on new identities. It is so normal when you're young -- I did that. Trying on what fits for whatever reason you are feeling at that moment -- if you're rebounding, if you're healing, if you're bored. Mew is embarrassed, maybe even ashamed, maybe even regretful that his first relationship ended up as a failure.

And now he's figuring out how to recover -- by taking a gamble, and playing with the exact same mundane, everyday nastiness that he's seen in everyone around him.

P.S. Ephemerality and permanence? That fire burned the memory that Top tried to create with Mew (cc @twig-tea and @lurkingshan here). And, gambling? SO ephemeral. Buh-bye, money and pride. Ray switching back and forth between Mew and Sand? Ephemeral crushitude. (SAND. SMDH. I KNOW RAY'S DAD SAID SOMETHING TO YOU, BUT STILL, SMDH.) Nick turning on Boston. Boston begging Mew to hold back on the permanent impact of the sex tape on Boston's dad's career.

And the ephemerality of movement: the clothes in this episode said it all. Las Vegas, NYC, Stanford. These young folks can just... disappear if they want to. And they just might.

(G'DAY, EPHEMERALITY SQUAD! @ranchthoughts @slayerkitty @distant-screaming @twig-tea @neuroticbookworm @lurkingshan @clara-maybe-ontheroad @thatgirl4815 @chickenstrangers @wen-kexing-apologist)

[yumizcorner]

All in~

Skz Ot8 x Reader

!!fem reader | gangbang | creampie | filthy smut | dirty talk | pet names (daddy etc.) | Oral (f and m rec.) | cum eating | degradation | squirting | everything else I forgot to mention!!

A/n: i tried my best to write this and I hope y‘all like it

„hey y/n…how are you?“ the guy on the phone asked. „I‘m good…how come you‘re calling so randomly?“ I asked him since it was 00:20am on a Sunday. „Oh well…I just wanted to check up on you“ he said and I could hear that he was nervous. „come on hyung you lost the bet so you gotta ask her.“ a voice in the back whispered wich made me chuckle. „Come on Chan whats wrong?“ he exhaled deeply and then talked again. „you know…it might sounds weird but me and the other guys thought about…well…you know…“ i sighed. „What Chan? You guys thought about what?“ I kinda lost patience on him since we already were in a call for 5 minutes now.

„Me and the members saw a video somewhere wich we found…interesting so we thought..“ He was getting nervous again so another one of the boys shouted from the back. „we wanna fuck you.“ I could hear 6 shocked inhales after he said that. „Please what?“ I said with a slight amused smile on my face since I found it funny. „Lee know is right.“ suddenly my face freezes. I thought they were joking. „Wait..all eight of you?“ i said in disbelief. „We know it’s much that we‘re asking for but we thought asking wouldn’t hurt anybody.“ I let out a small giggle. „Y‘all can stop playing now I was shocked already.“

for a few seconds,that felt like half an hour,nobody said anything. My mouth ran dry as I noticed. „You guys are playing aren’t you-?“ I asked with a blank face. I heard Chan clearing his throat before speaking up. „well we aren’t…b-but it’s okay if you don’t want to.“ he said in one breath. „I don’t really-“ before I could end my sentence I got interrupted by Chan. „You know what…just forget about it. We‘re sorry that we disturbed you. Sleep well.“

Before I could speak up again he ended the call. I just sat there in silence and tried to realise the situation.

After a few more minutes I came back to reality and decided to just go to sleep.

I woke up at 2pm the next day. I got ready and went to the city. I decided to visit the boys later on. Maybe but only maybe I also decided to accept the boys offer.

I told me best friend Yuna to come with me. I wanted to buy new lingerie for that day since I wanted to look as pretty as possible.

(just imagine any pretty lingerie you like. I couldn’t find any that I liked)

Once we were done with all the shopping we hang out a bit. „You really wanna get railed by eight man?“ she said while she drank her iced coffee. „Yuna- I-“ it’s not like she wasn’t right tho but I felt kinda weird when she said that. I mean it’s not that usual am I right? „Aren’t you afraid that they….yk…rip that wap apart?“ she said and took a sip of her coffee. I choked on mine and started to laugh. „Omg Yuna Stop.“ i said in disbelief and kept on laughing. „I trust them with all my life so I’m pretty sure they won’t do anything that I wouldn’t want.“ I said in a serious way. „I know I was just joking. And I also know that you know what you’re doing so I think you‘ll have a fun night tonight.“

Yuna went back home when it was about 8pm so I walked a few minutes with her until her way and my way were different. Nervousness started to take place in my whole body as I stood in front of the door wich belongs to the dorm of Chan and the others.

It felt like my heart stopped beating for a second as the door opened revealing Hyunjin. „Oh- hey y/n“ he said,sounding a little confused. „Hey Jinnie…could I come in?“ he nodded and stepped aside. I walked into the dorm and walked behind Hyunjin who took me where the other boys were. As soon as we arrived at the living room,everybody looked at me. „Hey“ I said blankly. They all greeted me and told me to sit down. We sat there in silence for a few minutes,only the voices on the tv making noise. God damn why is it that akward. „So why are you here?“ Jisung asked,desperate for an answer. „I bet she‘s here because she‘s accepting our offer.“ Lee know said giggling,with a smile on his face. „Minho!“ Chan said with a scolding tone. „h-he‘s right…“ I said looking down at my fingers while playing with them. „Really?“ Chan asked in disbelief. The other members just stared at me blankly. I nodded and could hear Lee know giggle again. Suddenly I could feel someone lifting up my chin. I looked up and looked into some brown eyes wich belonged to Lee know. „why would we waste more time hm? I think we should go to my bedroom and take the others with us. What do you think pretty girl?“ he asked while his lips were dangerously close to mine and his fingers still under my chin. I nodded in response since I was too stunned to speak up. „Use your words pretty girl. You should talk as long as you’re able to.“ he kissed me suddenly for a short moment then he left my lips again and looked into my eyes again. „I-I wanna go to your bedroom with the others.“ I managed to get out of my mouth. Lee know smirked and said „good girl.“ he backed up and picked me up from my seat. I squealed a little out of surprise. Minho took me to his bedroom while the others followed us. He placed me on the bed and kissed me again,this time way more passionately. After a few second I could feel someone’s hand resting on my inner thigh. I gasped a little as the hand went upper and made it to my clothed cunt. Minho started to kiss my neck,leaving marks wich also allowed me to look who’s hand was touching me.

Surprisingly it was the youngest who started to please me. „Can I?“ he asked softly with a smile on his face as he wanted to take off my clothes. „Of course.“ I said and helped him a little. Minho and Felix took off my upper clothes. Jeongin started to eat me out while Felix and Seungmin kissed my breasts. Minho was still marking up my neck. I moaned as Jeongin inserted one finger into me.

„we‘re gonna make you feel good tonight y/n.“ Lee know whispered into my ear. I looked around the room,searching for the others. They all stood closely,watching us.

„She tastes so good~“ Jeongin said. „And she feels so tight.“ Jisung hissed at his comment and unbuckled his belt. He wanted to touch himself but Minho stopped him. „Let y/n do that for you.“ he turned to me. „Will you help our little sungie out?“ he asked and I agreed. Lee know changed places with Jisung and sat down on a chair. Han didn’t really know what to do since he stood there like he‘s a lost child. „Sungie?“ he looked in my eyes as I continued to talk. „Don’t be shy. You can use me…I’m yours tonight.“ I started to lick around his tip since I wanted to help him a bit. He didn’t seem to be uncomfortable it just felt like he wasn’t really sure about if I wanted to do this. Jisung whimpered a bit as I took him fully into my mouth. Suddenly I could feel something big entering me wich caused me to moan around Han‘s dick. At this point he lost his sanity and started to fuck my throat while I tried to discover who fucked me. It didn’t take Han too long to cum since I kept on moaning. Once he came into my mouth I swallowed and showed him my empty mouth. „shit you’re so hot baby~“ he said and smiled. I turned my head and saw that it was Chan who slowly pushed into me. „Finally“ he said and bend down to face me. „now you‘re mine.“ he started to thrust roughly into me,making me moan. He laid his hands on my throat and started to choke me. He kept on thrusting roughly and fast. I felt like I was going to lose my mind any second. I felt like a moaning mess and I was one. „Fuck she‘s so tight.“ Chan groaned. „She looks so fucked out even tho you’re the first one that uses her.“ Changbin said. I don’t know why but I had to moan at his comment. It perhaps was because he said that Chan is the first one to use me. It did something to me. „God she clenched around me.“ Chan said.

„oh look at that…our little innocent girl is a cute precious slut.“ Lee know said. „Are you our slut? Come on say it for us. Tell us how slutty and dirty you are y/n“ I stuttered as I tried to focus on his words. My mind was foggy and I couldn’t seem to be able to think of words I could say. „awww is channie fucking you too good? You like how he‘s railing you?“ Hyunjin said while he sat down besides me. All those words that Lee know and Hyunjin said made me go insane. I felt how my first high build up and how amazing it made me feel. Chris fucked me harder with every single thrust wich send me over the edge. „Daddy~ fuck fuck fuck~“ I said as i came hard around Chan‘s cock. This also made him cum deep inside of me. I could feel how his seeds spilled into me. He thrusted a few more times and then pulled out. I could feel my pussy throb at the lost contact wich made me whimper.

While I tried to calm down from my high I felt someone teasing my clit. I opened my eyes,revealing Seungmin. He rubbed his dick against my entrance,spreading his pre cum on it. I whined as I wanted and needed more. „D-don‘t tease me Minnie please~“ Seungmin just laughed at my comment and pushed his tip into me. He hissed and then pushed in further. „gosh you feel so good.“ Seungmin said as he moved in and out. He started slowly but lost his control after a few thrusts.

Suddenly Hyunjin forced my mouth to stay open and laid his fingers into my mouth. I instantly started to suck and lick them while looking in his eyes. „She looks so adorable like this.“ Jeongin said and the others agreed while they all watched the scenario. „Can I cum inside you princess?“ Seungmin asked while fucking me sloppily and chaotically. „y-yes“ I managed to get out of my mouth while Hyunjin‘s long and slim fingers we‘re still in me. He forced his fingers into my throat and watched me closely as Seungmin came in my cunt,being the second one to fill me up. Hyunjin pulled his fingers out of my mouth and messily smeared the spit that was left on his hand onto my breasts.

After that he stood up and looked down at me. „will you suck me off just as good as you sucked my fingers?“ I looked up at him and smiled before removing his clothes hungrily. I gulped a little when I saw his hard cock in front of me. He was very big wich made me worry but I was too horny and fucked out to think of anything. I kissed his tip and then started to take him into my mouth. He thrusted a bit into my mouth wich made me even more needy. I sucked him off fast and messy but it seemed like he liked it since he groaned a few times.

I gasped around his cock when I felt someone entering me again. The way how they just used me when they wanted to,without asking turned me on so much.

I looked to the side and saw Changbin who entered me slowly. His dick was way thicker then the others I had so far. He stretched me out so much i felt like he was gonna rip me apart. Before I could look back to Hyunjin myself,he took my face and forced me to look at him. „Don’t take your eyes off of me.“ he looked at me with a serious dominating gaze that made me even more wet. He started to deepthroat me at the same time that Changbin started to move inside of me. „oh my god guys look at that.“ Jisung said and pointed at my throat. „Ahw baby~ sad that you can’t see yourself right now because you look too pretty with my cock lining out in your throat.“ I moaned around him wich made him hiss again. „Fuck Baby~“ Hyunjin said and gripped my hair with one hand. He held my head with the other and started to fuck my throat. Tears started to run down my cheek but I enjoyed every single second of it. He came with a moan and I swallowed instantly. Hyunjin sat down on a chair and rested while I was now focusing on Changbin.

„I wanna ride you please~ can I?“ he smiled at my request and said „anything you want.“ he picked me up and sat down while placing me on top of him. I sat down on his dick and started to move up and down. It hurt a bit but I couldn’t care less. All I wanted was to please Changbin. Out of nowhere somebody pushed my upper body down onto Changbin‘s. A few seconds I felt something poking my ass. „Relax baby~“ I heard Jeongin’s voice. I tried to do as he told me and relaxed as good as I could since Changbin‘s cock was still inside of me. Jeongin prepared me with two fingers and then entered me with his dick. He moved a few times until I told him it was fine. After I said that,Changbin also started to move again. Jeongin thrusted into me from behind while Binnie thrusted into me from under me. At this point I became a moaning mess again. The only thing I felt and could focus on was how their cocks were basically destroying me and how I enjoyed it. „she‘s even taking two cocks at the same time well.“ Jeongin smirked and kept on moving. I screamed and came loudly while both we‘re fucking me through my orgasm. The overstimulation caused me to moan again and louder. After a few more thrusts Changbin came,followed by Jeongin. They pulled out and laid me down on the bed again. I breathed heavily as I was calming down. „You think you can handle one more time baby?“ Lee know asked softly. „Yes yes yes. Please Lee know I need you.“ even tho I wasn’t really sure if I could make it I still needed him. I was craving him. „Are you sure? I‘m not sure~“ he said teasingly and lined his fingers through my wet folds. „Please Minho. I‘m begging you please. Please fill me up with your cock please I need you. Use me please.“ Lee know scoffed and spitted out a "pathetic" before entering me completely without a warning and moving instantly. I started to scream out my moans and gripped onto the bedsheets besides me. Lee know thrusted into me roughly and hard at the same time. „How can you be so tight even tho you got fucked by someone guys? God you‘re such a good slut.“ he laid his hands onto my hips and laid my legs onto his shoulders,hitting me deeper. It caused me to come already since it was too much for me to hold in but Minho didn’t stop. He kept on trusting at the same pace wich made me start to cry in pleasure. „you like how I’m fucking their cum into you y/n?“ I just moaned loudly at his comment. He made me feel so good that I started to drool. „Feels so good so full so big~“ I mumbled since I was fully out of my mind. „oh yeah dirty slut.“ he slowed down his pace and thrusted harder. I let out a scream at every single thrust he did. I looked to the side and saw Felix who jerked himself off to the whole scenario. Lee know also noticed and told him to come closer to the bed. „Cum on her face.“ Minho said blankly. Felix nodded and kept on jerking himself off. As soon as he started to moan louder I opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out wanting to taste him. He came with a groan and spilled his cum into my mouth and some onto my face. I closed my mouth and wanted to swallow but Lee know interrupted me. „don’t swallow got it?“ I nodded and kept it in my mouth while he kept on railing me. „You‘re such a pretty slutty fuckdoll it’s insane“ he praised. He hit my sweet spot one hard time wich made me cum again but this time way more intense then the other times. My mouth was open wide,showing off all the cum that was in my mouth mixed with some of my spit. „Holy shit she squirted.“ I heard Chan saying. I couldn’t even think wich was why I just laid there moaning with my mouth slightly opened only feeling Minhos hard thrusts. „You‘re so dirty fuck~ you look like a disgusting whore with that cum leaking from you’re mouth~“ he said and thrusted two last times. He came while gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. I could feel him spilling a lot of cum into me. „You filled me up so much~“ I muttered under my breath. „Oh my god she’s so fucked out Hyung.“ Jisung said. Minho pulled out and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

„Guys get something to clean her up and make sure that y‘all are free tomorrow we will take care of her…she‘ll need it“ Lee know said and gave me one last kiss on my cheek. „You did great y/n we‘re all so proud.“

[metalnecklace]

There Was Heaven In Your Eyes

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (plus size)

Word Count: 647

Warnings: none in this chapter

Notes: Welcome to my new fic! This is my first time writing for Javi, I hope I can do him justice. I’ve been wanting to write a Pedro character for a while and absolutely loved him in Narcos, so I figured why not! I do have Spanish in here (with translations right after when I feel they’re needed), but I am just learning how to speak it. So if there’s anything that needs to be retranslated or adjusted please let me know! I will also be posting this on my AO3 under the same username.

Summary: Reader has left her home country suddenly, finding herself teaching in Bogotá. When she ends up becoming a nanny for the Escobar family she isn’t sure if it’s any better than her life before. A certain Agent seems determined to help her, but will she let him?

Javier Peña is in the thick of finding Pablo Escobar, but ends up finding someone else. Will he let her be the one to break down his walls?

Masterlist

Prologue

The night was sticky. There was no other way to describe it. It was the type of night where Javier’s skin was on fire as it came in contact with the rolling condensation on his glass of whiskey. The drink is his usual, taken dry unlike the air he took into his lungs as he reminded himself to just keep breathing.

Things had been getting tougher when it came to catching Escobar. Javi’s nights stretched longer until they were no longer moments laying wide awake and restless in bed, but were instead short breaks of sipping alcohol to soothe his nerves until he went back to it.

Steve still tried to go home, even if it meant he was just waiting by the phone in the hopes that Connie would show him grace. Even when Javi didn’t feel he deserved it. He had seen firsthand the way Steve had started to slip into the habits that Javi lived day to day. Hidden flasks, reaching for his gun instead of his reason. But at the end of the day Javi had to admit that Steve was still the better person, the bigger man.

Javi downed the last of his drink, no longer feeling the burn that he used to. He longed for it some days, wishing that he had something to ground him.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and let out a sigh from deep within his lungs. His finger itched for his pack of smokes when he felt the stretch in his lungs. With his back aching he leaned down and grabbed what he needed out of his jacket pocket and placed a cigarette between his lips, feeling more comfort as he brought the lighter to its destination than he had since his last smoke.

“You really gotta lay off those things,” Steve’s voice rumbled from behind Javi. “Gonna slow you down even more.”

Javi had jumped after hearing Steve, not expecting anybody in the office at that hour.

“Fuck you,” he retaliated, twisting to face the taller man who waltzed to the opposite desk. “What’re you doing here? Thought you went home?”

Steve sighed and buried his face in his hands once he sat down. “Connie called, told me to hurry up and do my job so I can come home.” He raised his head, causing Javi to notice the dark circles contouring his bloodshot eyes. Since when did Steve look so burnt out? Javi shuddered to think of how he looked these days. “I figured I might as well get back to it.”

Javi puffed on his cigarette and exhaled, following the smoke up to the lights before looking back at his partner.

“There’s not much going on here,” Javi started, “if you did wanna get back home.”

Steve shook his head and reached for some of the files on the brunettes desk. “Nah, not like I need to do much there, anyway.”

The two men worked in silence together. It was comfortable, with a certain tether of understanding that not many others in the DEA respected. Javi loved to push Steve’s buttons, but at the end of the day he had really come to love working with him.

Silence was broken when Steve suddenly stood and moved to Javi’s side in three strides. He put a folder down over top of the one Javi had been sorting through and pointed his finger at a name with a snap of skin against paper. The folder was containing names of people Pablo had helped get fake passports. Most had already been done away with, almost all Javi had heard of. All except for the name Steve’s finger pointed at.

“Javi, we found it! Someone we’ve overlooked.”

Javi narrowed his eyes before looking up at Steve. “Well? Who is it?”

Steve lowered his finger on the page to where it showed their occupation.

“The nanny.”

[bugslaststraw]

Oh yeah. I'm tired and feel a bit out of body from morning to night dance moves pat and immfeelingalright right now but I had an idea about why Murdoc got like that with 2-D to begin with. Like yes okay I understand that once the stone is kicked down the road there's no way of stopping it; I always accepted that Murdoc was just never gonna be normal about him, but I also can't... Recall any one moment when we were ever told why, like. Why.

Why what? Why everything, why the core question at the centerpoint of everything, why is Murdoc so fucking angry with him all the time. Cos it sure as Hell isn't because he hates him; we're way beyond that now, and we know that that's a lie and most likely always has been. But Murdoc really likes Noodle too, she's his kid after all, his little girl, and he's never treated her the same way even remotely. If the reasons why he's always bullying 2-D is simply "well he's a control freak and gets affection mixed up with beating people half to death because that's what his dad did so he does this to everyone" then why doesn't he ever act this way with anybody else?

Well, the reason I accepted up until now is because Noodle and Russel can't be pushed around as easily. You try to hit either of them and they hit you back way harder and you crumple to the floor like a sack of wet rags. Obviously the logical next move after that is to try to suck up to them instead so you can get them to at least tolerate you, and maybe decide to stay and not set off the ole' abandonment issues as bad. Russel states at one point that 2-D is the only person Murdoc can reliably win a fight against, presumably because he'd never have the idea to swing back. It's not that he's that weak or whatever. He's just, well. Not a fighter.

I had another idea though. A real devious one, this one. Evil shit cooking. I'm an angst wizard where was I going with this

Ever notice how when Murdoc opens up to someone emotionally it's somehow always 2-D? Like, without fail? Okay, sometimes he has full scale mental breakdowns and opens up to Literally Everybody (see; Pirate Radio) because lord knows he isn't very good at keeping secrets, or at pretending to be cool. But also remember that comment he makes about making 2-D dictate his autobiography during, like... YouTube comment section impromptu QnA, space between Song Machine and Cracker Island, I believe. We never got that autobiography. We probably never will get it to be honest. All I remember is 2-D broke his fuckin hands writing it all down.

And, okay, time to beat the same dead horse again, I'm about to bring up arguably some of the most infamous 2-D Moments™ in GZ history but behold;

the other two times. I'm not sure how to put this objectively. Whenever Murdoc ends up crying and spilling his whole tragic backstory in someone's arms it's, like, 2-D 90% of the time. Coincidence? Gods no 2-D is just the person who's around him the most. Because he can't leave. He's also just more... Compassionate and forgiving. At the risk of making him sound like a dumb little baby again #let2dsayfuck he's been shown to be very empathetic and quick to forgive and all. If someone's having a mental breakdown, you try to comfort them. Isn't that how it works? But Noodle is too practical (and doesn't deserve to deal with her own shit father's mental breakdowns, trust me, speaking from experience, it sucks ten times more when it's your parent, especially if they do it often, you do NOT wanna parent your parent it's the most unfun experience I've had period, and I think or at least hope and headcanon that she's resilient enough to go no I am not dealing with this why are you crying get the fuck off the floor) and Russel possibly too mad at Murdoc to even get himself into this situation, so if there's any one person in the band you *want* to be crying in the arms of, it's probably 2-D, right? At least if you're Murdoc.

But. That's a bit annoying, isn't it. You slip up one time and suddenly you wake up the next morning and realise that this... This little fucking twerp has suddenly got immense power over you. Last night you took a Floor Pill off the dance boards of a shady nightclub and it made you think you were legitimately dying, and he was the only person technically in the band at the time, and you'd only first met him a couple weeks ago, but he was the person to go looking for you. Nobody's ever really done that before. And then he tries to help you, shit, he even gets on his knees on the pavement to help peel you off it, and you can't recall anybody ever being that kind to you in your life, and you break down completely, and you cry and hold onto him so hard he complains you're gonna break his spine and you make him promise to never ever ever leave you et-cetera. And instead of going "fuck off man" and disappearing into the night like everyone else you've done this with he actually does promise. Which has also never happened before. And then you wake up the next morning and have to deal with the fact that, on pure god damn accident, you gave that skinny little fucker your whole heart, and you can't take it back.

What's worse, 2-D doesn't understand the weight of what's just happened. Nor does he understand it the next time, or the next time, or the time after that. He doesn't think he's special, he doesn't understand what he's got and that you can't take it back. He's not malicious. He's not laughing at you. He's just confused, confused and very, very open. He's practically parading around your biggest secret like it means nothing.

And don't get me wrong: Murdoc is fine telling people about his past, in fact he seems to like it; he tells Cass Browne about his childhood so he can put it into Rise of The Ogre. He slips in that bit about the lunch lady iykyk as a joke, mid-interview. It's not about the backstory itself. It's about the emotional distance he has from it. And when you're fresh off an acid flashback I don't think you've got any emotional distance from it at all.

2-D doesn't connect the dots at least not until specifically Song Machine If Murdoc thought he was special he wouldn't be hitting him, right? He probably isn't even in the top ten of his favourite people. That's why the times where he's suddenly so familiar, and on top of that so vulnerable, just confuses him. He tells the story about the strawberries as a "weird thing that happened on tour," and the subtext (which we can quite easily spot from an outside perspective, like, come on,) flies completely over his head.

Can you imagine being Murdoc, and reading that interview after it was posted? Skimming through 2-D's synth article in the G-mag while editing because it's probably just stupid anyway, missing the bit about the acid flashbacks, and only noticing it two months later and everybody acts surprised you even care in the first place?

I think if I was Murdoc and I accidentally laid bare the depths of my soul (got a normal amount of vulnerable) and the mother fucker I did it to just started telling random people about it I would become the Joker immediately.

[tamblrtrain]

feel like someone's said this already but jimmy absolutely feels like he's cluster b. i'm saying this from a semi-detached pov bc i've not talked to anyone i knew for sure was cluster b but from listening to. a lot of theramintrees. and also given jimmy's larger than life personality he really bridges on being cluster b.

i get anybody saying he has a sort of superiority/inferiority complex because he absolutely does. but it's so drastic that it really does border on cluster b. specifically i feel like it's aspd but npd and bpd can be argued.

i'm going to reiterate that i do not know anybody with diagnosed aspd nor am i a psychologist or psychiatrist. i also do not want to portray the idea that i hate cluster b people. i just hate jimmy who i think exhibits cluster b symptoms. i'm also a fucking nerd up at midnight. and i'm flipping between tumblr and a wikipedia tab abt aspd so there's that. yapping under the cut.

hoo boy okay. this is really complicated. first off looking at the diagnosis bit of the wikipedia article where they cite the dsm, jimmy fits under more than enough traits (the dsm lists 7 and requires at least three be present)

failure to conform to social norms and laws: this one is the biggest stretch and i can't really cite anything in the game for it, but if you find something that genuinely isn't a stretch, i'd love to see it.

deceitfulness: genuinely look at him and tell me this doesn't fit. he tricked daisuke several times to his gain and daisuke's loss every fucking time. spiked cocktail? yep. the fucking vent? jesus christ.

exhibiting impulsivity or failing to plan ahead: man he fucking crashed the tulpar because he didn't wanna deal with the consequences of his actions. he forced himself onto anya and then nuked the ship because he forgot things happen after you do things.

irritability and aggressiveness: anya. curly. swansea. genuinely there are too many instances for me to name one. he assaults curly while administering the painkillers. he yells at anya for daring to ask him to give curly painkillers. the whole 'shoot swansea so you don't fucking die' sequence. there's so much i'm going to be sick.

reckless behavior that disregards the safety of others: crashing the fucking tulpar!

irresponsibility: one of the major themes in mouthwashing is taking responsibility and the way jimmy goes about doing that is genuinely horrible.

lack of remorse after hurting or mistreating another person: do i even need to explain this? he doesn't spare any thoughts for anya. he thinks of her as a fucking womb and nothing else. do you call that remorse? i fucking don't.

now. i don't know shit about jimmy's childhood but just considering 6 of 7 are already exhibited well enough it's kinda easy to see. it's impossible to know for sure, but jimmy's behavior is well enough argument in my mind. you can absolutely disagree with this ofc, i'm just saying what i think. and you can argue about jimmy being something completely different, i'd love to hear it.

personally, though, this is just my take on him. i think he's likely to have aspd. this will not affect the way i write him, this is just me trying to understand his character a lil more. if you have different thoughts or even just want to explain, please yap to me, it'll help me string together my thoughts better. yapping over

[katyawriteswhump]

WIP Weekend

Thanks to @medusapelagia for the tag :D You are too kind!

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post or new thread, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from, write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post.

If you’re reading this, you’re invited! If you see someone posting a WIP Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

These are the options:

the freak in the penthouse (steddie au, eddie is an accidental video game milllionaire/steve is a (part-time) sex worker) snippet below!

dragon's pet (steddie, third instalment of my dragon's hoard series--subby steve/occasional-dragon eddie)

tree-shifter fic (harringrove bingo, honestly, if anybody asks they are truly brave because I am a truly weird person and my writing gets even odder)

no upside down au lifeguard fic (harringrove bingo)

Ask away... if you're brave.

A little snippet from 'the freak in the penthouse' chp 2

“Hey, should we put music on?" asked Steve. "Or do you wanna jam? You know, I kinda dabble myself from time to time… uh, you okay?”

Eddie had finally got up. He took two paces across the room and yanked the guitar from Steve’s grip. “Nooooo music.”

“Is that some kinda rule?”

That teeniest smile again. “Shouldn’t you be telling me your rules, Steve? Like how much is a ‘party’ with you gonna set me back? Not that I give a rat’s ass, but…”

Another internal facepalm. Steve had intended to be upfront about that. Then again, it was the first time he’d negotiated for himself. 

“Okay, so you want me to stay the whole night?”

Eddie shrugged. Up close, his dark eyes were intoxicating, sucking Steve in, which was probably why he said, flustered: “Two hundred bucks, okay?”

You were gonna quote four! If Kline comes sniffing, he’ll have at least a hundred off you.

Eddie nodded, laughed. The air reeked of vodka. As well as the weed. Steve pressed on:

“Rules. Okay. Nothing that leaves any marks on my skin. Got any weird kinks?”

“Not right now.” Eddie started fiddling with his rings, suddenly squirmy. “Nothing other than a hankering to sleep with a really cute guy.”

Steve blushed like an idiot, and his heart gave a crazy leap.  What the fuck? “And we gotta use rubbers,” he said.

“Obviously. Anything else? Like, do you kiss on the lips?”

Steve snickered. “You watch too many movies, Eddie.”

“Not much else to do, stuck up here with cable. So, you do kiss on the mouth?”

“Sure thing.” 

Truth was, Steve had been hungry for Eddie’s soft-looking lips since that first merest hint of a smile. He edged forward so they stood pretty much nose to nose. He slipped a hand to cup Eddie’s jaw, and plastered his mouth enthusiastically to Eddie’s. Eddie gave a surprised grunt, not yet parting those enticing lips. 

Steve panicked. Shit, too much?

Then Eddie plunged his tongue straight towards Steve’s tonsils and they started kissing for real, and… Wow! 

It was some kiss.

Chapter one is now up here on ao3. Might post on tumblr later not sure... sort of nervous about it :P

[h00nerz]

h00nerz 1k celebration!

˚⁎⁺˳. ⊹ wowowowow we did it!!! thank you so much for 1k followers!! to celebrate, i am going to be hosting a oneshot game! below i will list the rules as well as some prompts you can use to send in! thank you again!!

RULES!

⊹ i will be accepting requests for mostly txt members, though you may also request enhypen or nct (maybe skz too) members and i may accept if i have enough inspo

⊹ to send a request, please send me the idol of your choice as well as a number from the prompt list. you are also welcome to include some plot points you would like to see, feel free to get as specific as you’d like!

⊹ i don’t write smut, pregnancy or any super dark themes so don’t ask please

⊹ if your request doesn’t inspire me, i might not write it.

⊹ please be patient and nice!! if you’re rude or try to rush me, i won’t do your request.

⊹ UPDATE : please send more hyuka and soobin requests pls pls pls pls pls i’m not accepting anymore for anybody except for him

PROMPTS!

i used this post and this post to come up with a list!

1. “shit, i think i’m in love with them.”

2. “i could never say no to you.”

3. “they would be so mad if they found out.” “fuck ‘em.”

4. “i’m tired of having to pretend we hate each other.”

5. “why are you crying?”

6. “i wish i met you sooner.”

7. “i told you not to fall in love with me.”

8. “let’s not go back. not ever.”

9. “i’d shout it from the rooftops if i could.”

10. “you know i only tease you cause i love you.”

11. “you’re cute when you’re jealous.”

12. “we should compare hands. y know, science.”

13. “you’re lucky that you’re cute.”

14. “i just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

15. “you feel like home to me.”

16. “how about a kiss before i go?”

17. “you always see the good in people. even me.”

18. “let’s go somewhere. just you and me.”

19. “we’re a team.”

20. “i’m not ever leaving you.”

21. “don’t listen to them.”

22. “i love you. every single thing about you.”

23. “i’m not blushing. i don’t blush.”

24. “friends kiss each other, right?”

25. “i was sort of hoping you needed me. is that selfish?”

26. “i want to deserve you. i’m trying to deserve you.”

27. “just let me look at you for a little bit.”

28. “i never realized how much i needed you until you weren’t there.”

29. “look at me.”

30. “is this what you think love is?”

31. “i didn’t know where else to go.”

32. “you don’t mean that.”

33. “i can’t pretend anymore.”

34. “you’re all i can think about.”

35. “i am so very in love with you.”

36. “it’s you. it’s always been you.”

37. “i cannot stand you, and yet, i cannot fathom being away from you.”

38. “you are everything. everything.”

39. “no one will ever come close to you.”

40. “you’re so cute when you’re half asleep.”

41. “i’ve kind of been in love with you since we were kids.”

42. “you don’t have to pretend around me.”

43. “all i want is for you to look at me the way you look at them.”

44. “can i convince you to stay?”

45. “close your eyes.”

46. “i really want to kiss you right now.”

47. “everyone else might be buying it, but i’m not. what’s wrong?”

48. “don’t change the subject. i saw you crying.”

49. “i can’t get you out of my head.” “…thanks?”

50. “i feel weird when you’re around.” “do you have a fever?”

[morgana-ren]

Honestly, Lore Mom, I am curious about what sort of people Bhaal attracts. Like it seems his worshippers would be pretty limited to either his own spawn or the few people who become addicted to killing. Maybe it's different in a high fantasy setting but my understanding is most murderers don't kill for the fun of it, they do it to achieve an end (like Banites). I'm curious if Bhaal has an issue with maintaining followers. [Also sorry I can't write a short ask to save my life]

Well, people associated with death, for starters.

Assassins, common street killers, ritualized murderers, anybody who might benefit from a patron that encourages such behavior. His ultimate domain is slaughter, blood, and death, so people operating where that is their wheelhouse are far more likely to turn to Bhaal than any other lord. Especially in the situation that there isn't much else regarding an ulterior motive, and it's the pure, undiluted love of the slaughter that drives them.

The kill is the point.

Banites kill because they are chasing a goal. They do the things they do not as the ultimate point of their actions, but to meet those ultimate points. For Bhaalists, the murder is the point, if that makes sense.

You'll obviously get people who aren't 'right' in the head (like Dolor-- which means pain by the way lmao) but you'll also get more cold, calculated killers that have some kind of life that revolves around the cycle of death and ending life itself.

That's why it's referred more to as a cult than an actual religion. Bhaals cultists are tools to meet his ends. It doesn't really revolve around points and end goals like power or dominion or whatever else have you most of the time. It's slaughter. Don't get me wrong, obviously in BG3, there is very much an end goal (which... is the literal death of everyone in the world a la 'the world ending in blood') but again, the death is the point. Blood. Murder. Death. Slaughter. Rinse (or don't) and repeat. He is capable of forming plans, but those plans always revolve around death death death.

Bhaal's chosen is a bit unhinged. Uncontrolled, unhinged murder. Having to fight for control and her need to destroy kill destroy at every fucking turn. Sometimes, they're a bit smarter and more patient (like Sarevok) but again, they're just holding off temporarily to meet their ultimate end, which still revolves death and blood and sacrifice.

The thing about Bhaal is that there are always going to be people who turn to him. People who want to kill for one reason or another. People whose lives revolve around death and blood. People who are just angry and hateful and want to see the world suffer. Weak people hoping for favor from the strong and willing to kill to do it (people too weak to serve a God like Bane of their own initiative or skill.) Every time one dies, a new one is born somewhere, and will inevitably make their way there, same as every other evil God.

I'm sure that his follower count wanes and waxes depending on the times. During more troubled epochs, it might inspire more violence and a sort of comfort in a God who has dominion over violent death. During more peaceful times, you'll get rabblerousers who are always looking to upset the balance.

Truthfully, it really just depends. I'm sure it reaches lows and highs depending, but since you cannot kill an idea, and Bhaal has a form of control over an idea (blood and death) you would have trouble killing it off entirely, and even if you managed, it would create a power vacuum and something else would step in to fill that role-- much like Bhaal himself did.

He is technically a quasi-deity as of right now, same as the others. Thanks to some crazy bullshit that happened, they are all not technically Gods in the same way that they once were, though they are damn sure trying to crawl their way back into it. Still, as you can see, that isn't exactly stopping them.

Bhaal will keep acting like an edgy shithead, and there are always edgy shitheads attracted to that. Not to talk shit on him, I love the idea of him, but he is absolutely the edgiest shithead of the edgy shithead three.

[liquorisce]

scarf girl & idiot boy

pairing: eren jaeger x mikasa ackerman

rating: t | read on ao3

summary: [Reincarnation AU. crackfic]

Eren is in his final year of high school. He's always been an imaginative kid but now his imagination won't seem to give him a break. As a result of intense flashbacks / dissociative episodes his therapist advises him to keep a journal, to get in touch with his emotions and let them all out.

Except it wasn't his imagination, these were his memories. Why doesn't anybody understand?!

…

“So, what about this girl?”

Right, Eren. What about this girl? As my mother asked me that, I was struck with this ridiculous urge to prattle on about how she had a scar on her right cheek, a mole right beneath that, and even though she usually kept her hair short, long hair was simply gorgeous on her. She was humanity’s strongest, and so fucking smart, she was incredible. She could do anything and excel at it; she was one of those people that you could trust with your life.

And how is it that despite not really knowing this girl, I knew so much about her? Fuck if I know. The only thing I did know, however: “I think she’s my wife. Sort of.”

Day 1 

Mom bought this notebook for me and told me I’m supposed to write in it every day. Journaling, she said. It’s good for you, Eren. It’ll help you sort out all those thoughts in your head. 

That’s what she called it. Thoughts in my head. That’s what she told the doctor the first time she brought me in. My son, you see, he’s a good kid. He’s got a lot of spirit. He’s very intelligent. But. And here was the kicker, there was always a but. He gets lost in his thoughts, sometimes. And then he doesn’t come out. Even if I shake him. I feel like he’s someplace else, you know. 

Well, yes, it turns out the good doctor did know. Or he had some theories, anyway. ADHD was the top favourite, it was an easy one for Mom and Dad to digest. Tons of kids have it. It was one of those disorders that parents could swallow because it didn’t mean their kid didn’t have potential. It was a better alternative than plain delusional, I suppose.

I’d heard it my whole damn life. 

Eren, you’re distracted. 

Eren where’d you go off to? 

Eren. 

Eren. 

Ereh. 

I had one of those short names that people liked to use like punctuation. But nobody said my name right. It’s a peculiar thing, but I was convinced my name wasn’t meant to be pronounced with the full N, it was meant to end on a faint sound, somewhat breathy, somewhat feminine…

Ugh. This is the problem. None of it feels right, because I already know what is right. I’ve experienced it before. It’s in my memories. But nobody understands that. They say I have an active imagination. When I was a kid apparently I had an imaginary friend, too. A blonde wimp named Armin who needed my help to deal with bullies. When I was younger I believed it when Mom gently broke it to me that he wasn’t real, but now I’m not sure anymore. Sometimes when I stand in a group of friends, his sparkling blue eyes and his golden bowl cut feel more real than the faces in front of me.

But this is all I’ve got to figure it out. It’s you and me, motherfucker. So go on and do your Tom Riddle thing where you make sense of things to me, because I’m dying to hear it. 

Day 3 

I forgot to write yesterday because I’m not really good at keeping up with a habit. Or writing for that matter. I’m okay at school essays and like, some short stories I wrote as a kid were decent, but I never really thought of making a hobby out of it. And writing about myself too, why would I do that? I have to spend enough time inside this head of mine feeling absolutely crazy and out of control, I don’t know how writing down what’s in my head is supposed to make it any better. 

But mom yelled at me to journal, so here I am. 

She’s pissy because I turned up today with godawful marks on my french test, ten out of forty scribbled in big red letters. In my defence, I only attempted the first thirteen questions, because my brain kind of froze up mid-test when I got these weird flashes of sitting in a classroom with wooden desks and a crazy brown-haired person with goggles on their head trying to teach us about human-eating monsters. It sounds wild to me even as I write it, but trust me that shit was real. They were big and red and butt-ugly and I’m convinced that I’ve repressed some particularly traumatic memories of them breaking people in half like Twix and popping them in their mouths. I think the feeling of watching something like that never goes away, no matter how many lives you lead. 

I’d like to imagine that if these really are my memories— because sure, I may be a visionary or whatever, but these visions were too clear— I was a badass hero leading the fight against these monsters, and eventually, my side won. Otherwise, what even was the point?  

Day 4

I keep thinking about those fucking monsters. Journalling is doing something to me. It’s making me think about these things more and more. How else do I explain the pit in my stomach that’s refused to go away ever since I finished last night’s journal entry? 

Why can’t I shake the feeling that I was so so wrong about something? What if I wasn’t the hero? Maybe I was just a massive fail and my dwindling grades are like, a mirror to the events of my past life or something.

Day 7 

Whatever, I know I didn’t journal for two days and my last entry was just a pathetic scribble but I needed some time off. My therapist said this was supposed to help me get in touch with emotions not stress me the fuck out and make me never want to confront them again. Anyway, I took the weekend off, and actually spent my time trying to clear my head in more effective ways. Like smoking weed with my friend Maks. 

Mom, if you’re reading this (I know you are, I saw you combing through my journal just yesterday, you’re so obvious) then please for the love of God, don’t get all weird and make passive-aggressive comments when you know already that I smoke. And don’t pretend that you don’t because you totally did. Why else would I eat that much? No teenage boy needs five helpings of your curry no matter how good it is, it’s because of the munchies. Now read further at your own risk, that’s all I’m saying.

So yeah, back to Maks. He always steals weed from his sister Laura, and wades straight into her bag without any concern for her privacy. I don’t know, but I always heard you aren’t meant to be rummaging in a girl’s bag (or anyone’s for that matter), so I just, like, stand outside and make polite conversation with her while he’s flicking her goods. 

I guess that sounds bad, but you get it. Laura’s pretty and to be honest, I think she’s kind of sweet on me. She’s always kinda blushy when I talk to her and there’s no need to be, she’s twenty years old and I know she’s had boyfriends before. But she always gives me way more attention than what her idiot brother’s friend deserves. I’ve thought about asking her out on a date, but it seemed like a lot of effort when all I really wanted to know was if she kisses nice. 

I thought about it a little more today when we were smoking with some of the other guys, on the rooftop of Peter’s part-time job. I couldn’t really discuss it with them openly because I didn’t think honesty was the best policy when it concerned getting into Maks’s sister’s pants, but I wish I could, because I was still a fucking virgin. I wanted to get laid and I think if I asked, Laura might say yes. I just didn’t know how. 

And then I thought about it some more when I came back home and sank into my bed, stoned as fuck. I undid my jeans and opened up pornhub and scrolled through a bunch of thumbnails that all looked so fucking similar. And then, weirdly, I just shut my phone off and stared at the ceiling. 

I think all the dilly-dallying about Laura stems from the fact that I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to fuck Laura. Maybe I was a virgin loser, but I was pretty certain I didn’t have… feelings for her. Like, she was nice and everything, but I didn’t like her. I know what it’s like to like somebody, I think. It’s crazy intense and kind of one-dimensional and a little bit like black hair and pink lips and a dark red scarf.(????)

What the fuck. Did I just write. Where did that even come from.

I’m done with this journalling thing, man. I’m out.  

Day 9 

I’m not happy about this, you know. I just want to be a normal teenage kid who jerks off to porn and maybe sleeps with his friend’s sister so he isn’t a virgin when he goes to college. That’s it. I have simple desires. 

LEAVE ME ALONE SCARF GIRL. 

Day 10

I can’t stop thinking about her. I wish I could think about the human-eating monsters again. At least that was morbidly fascinating. This just gives me a clawing, uncertain sensation in the pit of my stomach and doesn’t let up until my thoughts are filled with some Japanese girl with the prettiest eyes I have ever seen, and a body like I hadn’t even thought of fantasizing about. It’s crazy, I feel obsessed with somebody I haven’t even met. And I know this for sure because I went through all the class photos and I know nobody who looks like that. 

Maybe I should talk to the doc again. I’m definitely delusional. 

Day 11

I saw the doc again. He isn’t convinced that I’m having delusions despite my twenty-minute spiel about the biology of ugly monsters I keep dreaming of. I explained in great detail that they were weird as hell: They had this weird human anatomy but none of the fun bits, and they kept eating humans but they couldn’t digest them for some reason. So they’d keep eating people and then get too full and puke ‘em all out into a disgusting ball of human glump and continue their binge. It was like a bizarre take on the Capitol citizens from the Hunger games. 

At the end of it, all he told me was that I should journal more and referred to me some creative writing workshops at the community college. And this was even before I even could tell him about the insanely beautiful girl with the red scarf that I haven’t stopped daydreaming about for three days now.

After coming home I got a little crazy and had a little meltdown about how nobody was taking me seriously which Dad thought was par for course for a seventeen-year-old, but Mom got a little snivelly. She came to my room later and gave me a hug and asked if I was acting out because I missed my birth parents. I didn’t know how to react to that so I just hugged her back and told her that I haven’t thought about them in years. Although now I wish I knew them a bit better, because maybe then I’d know for sure if I’m delusional or not because psychiatric disorders usually have genetic history. 

The truth is, I don’t remember much about my birth parents. Mom and Dad have taken care of me since I was three, and apart from the fact that I’m a little weirdo in a family of two very normal, high-functioning adults, I’ve never felt like I didn’t belong here.

Mom, I love you even though you never respect my privacy and are currently reading this journal. 

Day 12

I was googling “memories of past lives” and I somehow found myself on the Wikipedia for Hinduism. It’s a religion where people believe in having many lives. Everybody goes through birth, life and death and then rebirth again because this torture isn’t enough the first time apparently.  

Is that what this is? I’m a cat with too many lives, now? 

Day 13 

I thought I’d found religion but I spent one day listening to a guru with 9.6 million Instagram followers and I’m convinced this shit will only make me crazier. 

Anyway, midterms start in three days, and I know more about “samsara” than I do about Kirschoff’s laws, so see you later. 

Day 20

I’ve hidden this stupid diary away and planted a fake where my mom keeps looking. I need my privacy, for fuck’s sake.

I had History today and I swear to God, I almost threw up when it came to answering the final question on the Holocaust (Ten fucking marks!!!). I started writing it, felt nauseous, excused myself to the bathroom, stared at myself in the mirror, came back only to ask to be excused all over again. Miss Jenny definitely thought I was cheating. She kept hovering over me after I came back, when I was too busy trying not to throw up on her. 

It’s as if, every time I began to write about the Genocide of WWII, I could almost picture the innocents walking to their death. This is not to say that I don’t think what happened was absolutely terrible, but I cannot afford to get emotional during a fucking history exam. 

What’s worse is every time I kept picturing this one boy… this tiny boy with an interesting cap on his head, who looked in my direction with the most puzzling expression. A smile, that then turned into confusion, which then turned into fear. As if I was the one responsible for not only his misery, but that of his entire people. I know it sounds absurd but I really wanted him to know that I felt terrible about what happened. I mean, I had nothing to do with the Holocaust, obviously, but I’m sorry he had to go through it. That anybody had to go through something as terrifying as being persecuted and demonized for something they had no control over. 

I keep thinking about that boy. I wonder what his name was. I wish he could experience the world like I do, now. I wish he could be free too. 

Day 25

I had math today and it was alright, I suppose. I’m not very good at it, so I can’t judge if I’ve done okay or not. I was more interested in History and Civics, Languages that type of thing. Right on my way to a life of making no money. 

While walking back, I tried asking Maks what he thought about the History exam, and more specifically all our tutelage about the Holocaust. 

“What do you mean, how do I feel about it? It’s all bad, obviously, you know that.” 

“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Of course it’s bad. But about why it’s bad. Do you ever, just, you know, feel really terrible about it? That so many people thought it wasn’t bad when it was happening?” 

“I mean,” he said. “Not really. Because it’s not really something you have to think about. It’s obviously bad. We’ve been learning how bad it is, ever since we could read our ABCs. Why would I waste my time thinking about something that I already know is terrible? I already know it!”

I couldn’t argue with that logic anymore. I don’t know why I even bothered with Maks, because I already knew not much went on inside his head, but I didn’t have anyone else I could talk to. At times like this, I really miss Armin, the wimpy blonde in my head that I used to hang out with because I knew he would engage in meaningful conversation about this. He’d probably say something smart about propaganda or the power of narrative or something. 

When I was a kid I was convinced that he was the smartest person on the planet (when he wasn’t even on the planet), because he knew all about Volcanoes and the Mariana Trench and the Sahara and all I knew was the Pokemon type chart. I knew it by heart, by the way. I still do. 

I came home and my over-perceptive parents exchanged glances, probably signalling to each other that their kid really was a loser and that there wasn’t much hope. Then Mom hovered over me to an uncomfortable degree, making me want to scream. The thing is, I don’t even know what to tell her. Wasn’t I too old to be discussing feelings with her anyway?? How am I supposed to tell her with a straight face that I was bawling in the toilet after my exam because Ramzi was just a poor kid in the wrong place at the wrong time???

… Ramzi. 

Who the fuck is Ramzi?

Day 30 

Exams are over. I went with the boys for burgers after school, and we all hotboxed inside Peter’s car before heading over to the restaurant. 

Maybe it’s the mood I’ve been in for the past couple of weeks, but I’m starting to realise that my friends are idiots. And I don’t mean that in the affectionate sense. Peter wants to go into Investment Banking but can’t pass math. He’ll probably keep working at the Mobile store. 

Maks wants to be a cop. In this neighbourhood. I think the only crime we have around here is bicycle theft and no cop ever helps you get your bike back. You just fork out twenty bucks to buy somebody else’s stolen bike from the shady dudes near the central station. The same ones that lurk in the shadows asking if you want a bike, the same way thugs ask if you want drugs. Bikes are like a community commodity around here. It all goes into the same pool and everybody dips into it. 

Hamza wants to help his dad out at his falafel shop and to be honest, that’s the most honourable thing to come out of the lot of us. If you ask me, it’s the best food in town.

But they’re all just so…!!! They make me want to tear my hair out. They seem so okay with everything. With themselves. With their families. With this silly little town. Nothing will change for them after they finish school, and they’re perfectly content with that.

When I was ranting about this to dad over dinner, he asked me, with his little indulgent smile, “Well then, what do you want to do Eren? How are you going to make your life more significant than your friends?”

I was stumped. The truth is I’ve never really pictured anything beyond this, beyond my teenage years. I’ve never once thought about what it would be like to be an actual adult. Huh. 

Day 31

I can’t sleep. I keep dreaming. My dreams are flashes of people’s faces, blood and large horrifying caricatures of human beings whose faces are stuck in a terrifying smile. It’s 3:23 and I woke up crying because my mind seemed fixated on this one woman who was struggling in the monster’s grasp before she was broken in two and tossed in its mouth. 

And when I woke up, I felt the wisps of a soft feminine voice ask me, “Why are you crying, Eren?” I wanted to reach out and hold on to her, beg her to tell me what was going on. But the more I rubbed the tears from my eyes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was scarf girl. 

Why? I couldn’t tell you. Once I wake, my dreams slowly begin to lose clarity, fading into the noise of the real world and making me doubt my sanity more than ever. But this time when I woke, I felt the lingering sensation of long tresses brushing my face as somebody loomed over me. The strings of wool from a fluffy red scarf. The voice of somebody I was dying to hear. 

Day 38

Yo. it’s been a while. Lots of things have happened since I last wrote here. 

We had term break and I’ve been working on the Weber’s shed (they’re paying me for the help).  Honestly, the last set of dreams I had really fucked me up, so when Maks asked me to help with sawing wood, hammering things into place and just in general, not think, it sounded like a great plan. 

And if I had to stand in the sun without a shirt on when I knew Laura would be looking, I didn’t mind. Well, actually, I hadn’t really thought about it until I saw her staring out her window, right at me. 

I suppose I could write a whole story about how we had conversations with our eyes and licked lollipop ice candies on her porch together where I saw a little drop of candied water fall onto her chest and in between her cleavage, thereby making me want to lick it off of her skin, etc, but it really wasn’t that poetic. I was shirtless, and she was wearing her tiny warm-weather shorts, lips purple from the ice candies we had just gobbled down, and I guess she just asked me one time why I’d never made a move. I didn’t have an answer for her apart from making a move then and there, and some minutes later we ended up in her bedroom with me on my back and her tits dangling in my face. 

Tl:dr; I slept with Laura. I know it’s something I said I wanted some time ago, but as soon as we were done, I couldn’t separate our bodies fast enough. Brown hair matted across her forehead as she looked at me with expectation in her eyes. I couldn’t even look at her. The general public might crucify me as an asshole, but I just felt weird inside. She kept looking at me the entire time, large, soft brown eyes staring into mine as her hair spread all over me as she rode me. 

I suppose I did alright for a first time; I got off, she orgasmed first so I guess that’s a success. Laura was quite self-sufficient at the whole sex thing, honestly, it was as if she used me to get off and I let her. It all felt like a scam to me, instead of being excited about grabbing my first pair of tits all I could think was that this wasn’t right. There was an unfamiliarity about Laura that unsettled me, and I’m not sure what it was. But every time she scolded me affectionately, or brought my hands to her body to show me what she liked, I felt a little bit nauseous. 

And when she scrambled for the bedsheets after and asked if everything was alright, I had never felt like a bigger fuckup. 

“I thought you enjoyed it,” she said, her voice getting a little bit high and somewhat accusatory. “You came right? I was pretty sure you came.” 

“I did, yeah. It’s not that, Laura, the sex was… you were, I mean, it was all very nice. I just… maybe I don’t feel well. I’m sorry.” (NICE!! God, I’m such a fuckin idiot)

“You seemed pretty well when you stuck your tongue in my mouth and felt me up over my bra.” Every word she said just made me feel worse. 

“Do you have a girlfriend or something?” 

I pinched the bridge of my nose while I struggled with the most obvious, factual answer. But instead, with guilt burning my cheeks, all I said was, “... or something.” 

Day 39

After telling Laura that the sex was “nice,” I’ve been holed up in my room wondering, not for the first time, what the fuck was wrong with me. 

When I went down to have my muesli in the morning, Mom trapped me into a conversation. “You’ve been so dull lately, sweetheart,” she said, with her usual concern. It’s at times like this that I wish she would stop piling on the verbal concern and just bully the doctor into giving me some medication. Surely I could get some good ol’ pills for these hallucinations and I’d be okay. 

Instead, in keeping with my latest tradition of saying things I have not thought through, I blurted out, “Mom, did you always know you were going to be married to Dad?” 

She looked taken aback for a second. “Is that what’s got you down? Love problems? Oh, honey—” 

“Just answer the question, Mom. Don’t psychoanalyse.”  

“Well, not really, Eren. You see, I love your father very much, but I met him only when I was twenty-seven, and I’d had my fair share of experimentation and mistakes by then.” 

I nodded vigorously. See, this was normal. 

“Is there somebody on your mind?” 

I debated telling her for a split second, but my impulsiveness got the better of me. “I suppose there is, yeah.”

“Is it somebody I know?” Mom probed gently. She probably expected a different answer, because she’s been giving these sly smiles wherever Laura was concerned for a while now, so when I said, “Not really,” she blinked at me in surprise. 

“The thing is, even I don’t really know her. Not exactly in the way you would usually know somebody, I mean.” 

She blinked at me some more, looking as confused as I sounded. “There’s this girl,” I told her, my voice dropping down to a whispered mumble, “... this Japanese girl, I think, she keeps showing up in my dreams.” 

“You mean the same dreams as the one with the monsters…?” She asked, carefully keeping her voice neutral. 

If anything, my mother has always listened to me, I’ll give her that. “They’re called titans, apparently.” Crucial information from my last night’s terrors. “And yeah. The same ones. I think. I really do think they’re all set in the same world.” 

The more I listen to myself, the more I feel like I’m describing some kind of fantasy role-playing game. 

“So, what about this girl?”

Right, Eren. What about this girl? As my mother asked me that, I was struck with this ridiculous urge to prattle on about how she had a scar on her right cheek, a mole right beneath that, and even though she usually kept her hair short, long hair was simply gorgeous on her. She was humanity’s strongest, and so fucking smart, she was incredible. She could do anything and excel at it; she was one of those people that you could trust with your life. 

And how is it that despite not really knowing this girl, I knew so much about her? Fuck if I know. The only thing I did know, however: “I think she’s my wife. Sort of.”

Mom was speechless. “I know you think I’m crazy, Mom,” I told her. “But I just. I know it. Inside.” I sounded crazier with every word I said. Mom’s expression grew more pitying by the minute. 

She caressed my hair with a sad sort of affection in her eyes. “You’re really struggling with this, aren’t you, Eren?” 

My shoulders slumped; I felt defeated. I could see that she wasn’t taking me seriously, again. Well, what did I expect? If a seventeen-year-old told his mother that he was dreaming about a girl he didn’t even know, but somehow knew that she was his wife?? Man, even I couldn’t take myself seriously.

Day 41

Aside from being totally mortified, that conversation with Mom did bear fruit. I don’t know what she told the doc, but when I went for my appointment today, I left with an assortment of pills that were supposed to make me “feel better.” 

I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t feeling depressed, just crazy, but by this time I’m willing to try anything. So here goes nothing!! 

Day 46

I’ve been taking the pills for five days now, but nothing feels different. The doc says it takes some time for my body to react. I don’t really understand it because I’m usually the impulsive, reactionary type, but okay I guess. When it comes down to it, your brain just runs on a bunch of chemicals and these medicines are supposed to help me balance out the equations. (Doc's words, not mine.)

Today when we walked back from the grocery store, I saw an Asian family loading their trunk with groceries. There was an elderly couple and a woman (I think), who was doing most of the heavy lifting. Mom was grumbling about how chickpea pasta wasn’t a good enough way to boost her protein, but for some reason, that family caught my attention. I found myself craning my neck to get a look at the woman whose back was all I could see (a nice back, if I must say). 

Mom thumped me lightly on the shoulder and asked what the hell I was doing. 

It was kind of embarrassing because I know what it looked like. That I was busy checking out some woman’s ass with my mom right next to me. But it wasn’t that, I promise.

I mumbled an apology. But when we went further Mom suddenly looked at me all funny and was like, “Eren. You shouldn’t fetishize people, you know.” 

Naturally, I was gobsmacked?!??!??? 

Turns out, Mom put two-and-two together; first my “imaginary” (I didn’t like it when she said that, by the way. There was nothing imaginary about this woman. She was real. Our relationship was real.) wife, and then this Asian-looking family. Ridiculous! I did not think today was the day I’d get schooled by my mother about having an Asian fetish!!

Anyway, school starts tomorrow and I’m nervous because we’ll be getting our grades and term papers back. (Blegh)

Day 47

I feel like I’m about to explode. I have so many feelings, holy shit, I’m literally in the middle of class as I write this, I don’t even know where to begin. 

In an effort to start at the beginning, here goes: 

I THINK I’VE FOUND SCARF GIRL. 

AND SHE’S MY FUCKING MATH TEACHER ASLFADFKDSGL

I walked into school expecting the same old boring drivel as every other term, and mostly the morning had implied exactly that. Kris complimented my hair (I’d grown it longer despite my father’s insistence about cutting it, simply because I felt I wasn’t rebelling enough. I was a teenager after all, I’ve to pay my dues.) and it felt nice, because at least something was different.

We had different classes and got back papers in each class, and my eyes glassed over pages and pages of mostly ok answers, but largely silly mistakes, and the big red circle indicating my very average grades. My classmates queued up to the teacher’s desk to try and get a better grade but I didn’t really care much for it.

History, as I predicted was a shitshow thanks to my brain, but I seem to have made up for my earlier performance in French, thanks to a solid hour of concentration in the exam. 

Math was the last class of the day, and predictable Mr Hofferman, our grumbly old Math teacher was late. He was never late. He was one of those annoying teachers who was five minutes early, and would start his lesson as soon as the clock allowed him to, whether the rest of us had even sat down or not.

Ten minutes later— when the class had dissolved into little groups, girls sitting on the desks with their skirts bunched up high, boys chewing gum loudly even though we weren’t allowed to, complaining about how Mr Hofferman was for sure going to fuck all of us up with a ridiculously harsh marking scheme— a lady stumbled in, her hair looking wind-worn, in a pretty pink sweater and grey slacks. “Is this 4B,” she mumbled mostly to herself, craning her neck to see the door and confirm that it was, indeed, 4B. “Right, it is.” And then, in a most unusual turn of events, she set her books down and looked at us straight in the eye, and gave us the most gorgeous smile I have ever seen.

I don’t know about the others, but it took me several moments to recover. 

She gave us a small, shy wave, and a little bow, and introduced herself as Mika Akkerman. Her mother was Japanese and her father was Japanese-German, and after retiring, her father wanted to come back to the little town where he was from. She told us she was very excited to teach us from now on, and in an absolutely adorable accent asked us to “please treat me well.” 

There was such a violent shudder in my heart at that moment, I swear to God that I thought I was going to die. 

After that, she gave the sweetest little laugh, pushed her hair back behind her ear and said, “Although, giving you your test results is probably not the best way to start a good relationship.” 

As if I weren’t absolutely decimated by her beauty alone, what I saw at that moment threw me for a loop. 

There was a scar. On her cheek. And a little mole right underneath it.

As I lay stumped in my seat, my mind racing a million miles per hour, trying to even grasp the implications of everything that lay in front of me, Miss Mika took her seat and began to go through our term papers, one by one. She decided she would call us all to the front, to introduce ourselves, so she could more personally explain her assessment. 

“Eren,” she said, when it finally came to my turn, “Jaeger?” 

Idiot that I am, I stayed motionless until Maks ribbed me and said, “Stop spacing out, Jaeger, it’s your turn.” 

But I wasn’t spacing out. I don’t think I was ever more aware, or more present than in that fucking moment. The way she said my name, it finally felt right. Not Erren, Or Erin, Or Erain, But Ereh, kind of with the n a little bit silent, just a little breathy noise from her tiny nose, sounding kind of intimate like she’d spent a lifetime saying my name that way. 

She shook my hand, as she seemed to have done for every student, and fixed me with those gorgeous grey eyes. I was probably trembling like a fucking loser. (This is not how I wanted to reconnect with my wife!!!!)

“You have a nice name,” she said, thoughtfully. “It’s interesting that you have styled it in the American way.” 

That’s when I looked down at my paper. I’d signed it Eren “Yeager”. Which I never do, usually. My name is Eren Jäger; we usually understand the umlauts around here. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” I told her truthfully. It was the understatement of the year.

She then gave me a polite smile (it was so pretty, I swear, every time she smiles, I feel like a character straight out of a shoujo manga replete with heart eyes), and proceeded to walk me through my math paper. 

I have no fucking clue what she said because all I could think about was that her voice was so nice. And every time she said my name I felt my cheeks grow hot. 

In the end, she looked at me sweetly and said, “Well, don’t be discouraged, Ereh. Math is all about learning a few tricks and then you’ll master it, no doubt.” Which was excellent because now I was certain that I hadn’t left a particularly wonderful impression with my paper. Despite that, it appears my shamelessness reached new heights when she asked me if I had any questions, and all I felt compelled to ask was, “How old are you, exactly?” 

She blinked at me, and then stuttered a nervous laugh. “I always forget how direct everybody is around here. I’m 23.” And then, as if that was the real problem here, she said spiritedly, “But don’t underestimate me! What I lack in experience, I make up for with enthusiasm!” 

Oh boy. I didn’t doubt it. 

Now I’m back in my seat, barely acknowledging my dismal performance both academically and socially. My brain is buzzing restlessly. I can barely pay attention to anything that is being said to me (because, Mikasa wasn’t talking to me, it was mostly just Maks and Peter grumbling about their grades). 

All I can think is… What the fuck? 

I’ve never had a fully clear picture of the woman from my dreams but I know with startling clarity that this is her. I know it with my whole being. I knew it when she walked into class, when I saw her scar, when I heard her speak, when her eyes met mine. It’s like a flash went through my body, when we shook hands. 

This isn’t normal. But does it really matter? 

Because I think I’ve found my wife. 

Day 46 contd 

I have more updates. 

As class ended, Mikasa piled up her books and then embarrassedly mumbled that she was still new here, and that perhaps she would get lost and in a twist of what is surely fate, she called out, “Eren Jaeger, do you think you might be able to help me find my way to the Teacher’s lounge?” 

Of course, I would. I would do anything for her, she just didn’t know it yet. 

As we walked there, I learnt some things about her. She didn’t like silences, she found them awkward. Which was just as well, because after she broke the first one with some polite comment about what a lovely school we had, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My only exposure to Japanese culture is from my interest in anime, and from what little I know, I’m pretty sure she thought I was completely rude and out-of-turn. 

In a span of a few minutes, I asked her how long she’s been in town (just a week), where she came from (Kyoto), and whether she’s already settled (if she needed any help, she could feel free to ask me, you know). I tried my best to get a glimpse of her fingers but couldn’t, but I was pretty sure when we shook hands that I didn’t feel any rings. So she wasn’t married. 

But that didn’t mean she didn’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or a partner. Or a fucking dog, that took up all her attention, I don’t know. 

As I stood near her little desk in the teacher’s lounge as she talked about how different the weather was here compared to Japan, I felt fucking crazy. It’s only been forty-five minutes since I’ve seen her, but I want to know everything about her. I want to know what I’ve missed out on for so many years, and I want to make up for the fact that she was brought into the world five years too early. 

I had this creepy desire to tell her that nothing mattered anymore, because she and I were meant to be together. Eventually, I got out of my head, and as I began to walk her to the school gates, I realised that this was the end of our time together today. She would go home, and probably not think of me for the rest of the evening, while I spent every waking moment (and probably my sleeping ones too) filled with thoughts of her. “Why did you come here, Mikasa?” 

“Ah, like I said, my father was born here and wanted to come back, so—“ 

“But why now? Why to this school? Why did you decide to come with them?”

She stuttered an answer at first, but then slowly her eyes narrowed at me. She watched me silently for a moment before she murmured, “Ereh, I never told you my name was Mikasa.” 

Shit.

“My name is Mika Akkerman. And I’m your teacher,” she said, her voice strained. There was an antsy, faraway look in her eye, as she spoke. “… You should talk to me with respect.” And then she turned around and left.

I ran back home, straight to my room and as I write this, I’m still shaking. 

I don’t know why I called her Mikasa. 

I don’t know why I spoke to her in such a familiar way. 

I don’t know why when I look at her I felt like I’ve been waiting for so long, and that she has finally returned to me.

All I know is that I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’ve memorised that face, and I’ve listened to that voice so often, I would know it even as I lay in my grave. I’ve felt that skin against mine before, the same skin that held my hand so firmly today. 

More than anything I knew that this was scarf girl. And the universe had finally brought us together. 

[sleepy-shutin]

content warning for discussion of sex/sexual intimacy below the cut. this is very long and dissociated and slightly triggered. Advice appreciated but not required.

i wish i could see more people talking about how to navigate sex and (sexual) intimacy with DID/sexual trauma.

my girlfriend has sexual trauma as well, so she understands a lot of it. she's shared quite a bit with me, but in a lot of ways it seems like she's way ahead of me in navigating her trauma. she doesn't have it fully processed or anything, it still affects her, that sort of thing is always going to affect a person, but it doesn't stop her from being a relatively happy person with what seems like a pretty healthy relationship to sex, all things considered. most of the time she really does seem to feel very comfortable with it, much more comfortable than i am.

i'm so dissociated from myself that i can't even imagine myself in a sexual situation without getting triggered, even though i/parts of me have been in completely consensual sexual situations with her before. the idea of being touched sexually makes me want to pull my skin off, and my boundaries and desires constantly flip flop rather inconsistently. it's hard to determine if i'm actually asexual or if i just need to help my body understand 'good touch' or something, since 90% of everything i've ever known (or parts of me) has been 'bad touch'.

half the time i struggle to even be able to verbalize any kind of sexual boundary because the shame and fear choke me. not that i necessarily force myself into situations i don't want to be in, but i struggle to be present, i struggle to verbalize what i want, i struggle to talk about the trauma or how i feel at all.

when we're together, it feels like i'm 'so close, yet so far' from her. i could reach out and touch her, but it's not my hand, it's not my body. fingertips tracing on her hips and belly, her chest, her face, but the sensation isn't there. i could tell her anything and everything, but my voice is somewhere else, it's saying other things and I can't find where it's coming from.

How am I supposed to be with her if I can't even muster up the courage to write down that I have sexual trauma on a piece of paper to give to a doctor? I can't say it, I can't say anything, and I can't say it to anybody in my life.

All I want is to be able to talk about it, to talk to her. I want to get over the shame, I want to know how to navigate this so that I can be present with her, but I can't. Even now, I'm pretty sure I just switched in the middle of writing this because I can't handle talking about it without losing myself.

I hardly even remember most of it, and yet it's so deeply pervasive, so wound into my mind that nothing can cut through it. It's in my head, too close to the brain stem to remove it; inoperable. It'll be there forever, and there's nothing I can do about it.

Left At London's song Choke is something that speaks to me quite a bit. The softness, the intimacy, the hesitance, the desire, the longing.

"Turn the lights off, baby Can you heal my heart? Can you choke me harder Before I fall apart?"

"Turn the lights off, baby Can I make you come? If I can't feel pleasure Can I give you some?"

That last part especially resonates with me as someone who is stone. I hate saying it's because of the trauma, it makes me feel like another part of me is just becoming defined by all of the worst things I've ever experienced, but likely is. I probably wouldn't be like this if I weren't such a deeply fucked up person.

Lately I've been finding myself disconnected from myself sexually. I have the desire, but I struggle to feel any of it physically for any significant length of time, but this lyric is comforting.

I'm starting to lose track of what this is even about, probably because it's 04:00 in the morning now, I'm tired, I'm dissociated, I've had this on my mind for ages.

I just don't know how to be like this. I don't know how to work through it, or around it. I never see people talking about this or how to be with someone when you're like this. I barely even know what I want because I'm so badly dissociated from myself and everything around me. No amount of self experimentation is going to make sense or change things for me, no amount of practicing talking about it in the mirror or in a journal makes it any easier, no amount of my girlfriend being understanding and accommodating of the modicum of bullshit I've told her about makes it any easier.

In fact, for reasons I haven't been able to pinpoint, her being so accommodating feels even worse than if she weren't receptive. I don't know why. She listens, she tells me it's okay, she doesn't judge me, and it makes me want to pull my skin off.

Maybe it's the schizoid traits acting up, I don't know.

It feels like I'm getting too close to something so hot and bright that I'll burn up if I get too close. When we touch, it's like the energy inside of us will kill us both.

I don't know, maybe I'm just too fucked up to fix this right now. Maybe it won't get fixed. Maybe it's nothing, maybe I'm just weird for no reason. I already forgot most of what I wrote here. I need to go to bed. Maybe I'll delete this later.