#werestill

[jojolymes]

𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎; thirty-six

࿔*:･ﾟ xxxvi.

next: ࿔*:･ﾟ xxxvii.  |  table of contents

YOU'RE STARING dead ahead at the tree line, making shapes out of nothing, so you remind yourself that Johnny is still alive. He's still alive— you know this because half your face is still lukewarm, the half that had rested on his chest when you tried to get yourself back to the present. Johnny's shallow breaths were still ringing in your ear, and it only elicited a bitter writhing in your stomach. It reminded you that you werestill alive, even with the blood seeping from your wounds. With your back to the outer face of the crumbling cabin, you allowed Gyro's sigh to drown the whole world out for a moment.

When Gyro walked out of the entrance, you ripped your gaze away from the trees, although hesitantly, and looked at Johnny's limp body resting against Gyro's. His arm was sitting loose around Gyro's shoulders with his head hung low, drops of blood hitting the wood of the deck with a low pitter-patter. There was more blood spattered on his clothes; you wanted to look away, but you wouldn't let yourself. He looked too lifeless for you to look away or for you to earn any reprieve. You bit your tongue, savored your disgust about yourself, then relented.

"How is he?" you muttered, drawing your legs closer to yourself. You wrapped your arms tight around them and wouldn't let yourself let go. The pressure of your thighs against your chest was welcomed, even if your jeans strained against you for doing so. Your shoulder screamed for respite but you weren't going to listen when Gyro's eyes were busy swirling with... You weren't sure what exactly but you didn't want to think about it. You didn't want to remind yourself of how he and Johnny had been feeling about you.

"Can you use your stand?" Gyro asked, evidently avoiding your question as he crouched down and laid Johnny at your feet. You stared past the valley of your knees— Johnny was looking out at the trees too, behind his eyelids, not wanting to look at you. You tore your eyes away from him and called for Iron Maiden under your breath, watching her silvery arm appear beside yours. If she couldn't even heal you, you doubted you would be of much help. Her phantom touch ran up the back of your forearm, a soft, whispery breeze of comfort.

Gyro turned Johnny to face you, eyes still closed, the wound still fresh. You shifted your legs to the side, then under you, so that you were leaning over him. You swallowed hard, a poignant itch in the back of your throat. There was this sudden urge to look at Gyro, to make sure that you would be doing right by him. But you wouldn't allow yourself that either and hovered your dampened palm over Johnny's forehead instead. Shame was your shadow as you willed the bullet to dislodge itself from its makeshift home. You swallowed back tears as blood bubbled from his wound and as much as you tried to steel yourself, Iron Maiden faded away.

"I-I'm sorry, Gyro, I can't- "

"Don't worry about it."

You bit your tongue again, harder, abashed— you should be better than this, have more control over the stand you've been gifted. It's been months and yet, it seems like any progress you make is never permanent. You couldn't even heal yourself. Your vision blurred with frustration and you pulled your knees up close to yourself once more, so close that you could barely breathe. The ache in your chest was a discernable way to remind yourself that you too were still injured and a cheap way to lament your weakness. Gyro got up from where he was crouched without so much as looking at you, so you took it as a sign to duck your head into your arms and let your tears fall.

What the hell is wrong with me? You dug your nails into your arms as sparks of light bloomed behind your eyelids from the mounting pressure you had placed against them. How much longer were you going to have to stay weak? At this rate, you wouldn't ever be able to leave Johnny and Gyro behind. Your chest grew tight as you held back any noise you could make. Stop crying, stop crying, stop crying— you repeated the thought in your head over and over, around and around your brain. But no matter how much you told yourself that, the tears wouldn't stop falling.

It seemed you had it out for yourself, reminding yourself of all the times you had failed throughout the race. You went back to the first stage, bawling like a baby on Thunderstruck because you barely knew how to ride a horse. The second stage was even worse: nearly dying in the middle of a desert because you were too busy wallowing in your own familial sob-story bullshit, nearly dying because you had let your guard down at an inn, nearly dying over and over and over again until it became almost commonplace. And every single time, you'd cry and cry. You, just a grown child.

The third stage was just pathetic. Had you not been so sick, so weak, Gyro and Johnny wouldn't have figured out that you were a woman. They wouldn't have changed so drastically around you. Gyro and Johnny wouldn't have hated you. You wouldn't have gone and gotten shot and gotten this horrid wound in your side. You would be able to heal it like all the other times you've gotten hurt. Instead, here you are with two more bullets in your body, with Iron Maiden nowhere in sight. You wouldn't be sitting in front of Johnny who had wrapped his hand around your shin and was staring at you with half-opened blue eyes.

"Jo-Johnny!" you spluttered, realizing that Johnny was, in fact, awake. You scrambled out of the position you'd been sitting in, hitting your knees against the dilapidated wood as you leaned over him, unsure of what to do next. He needs to sit up more, you thought to yourself, looking for something to put under his head. You scanned the immediate area and caught sight of Gyro, hoisting up Hot Pants a ways away. With some reluctance, you maneuvered your thighs under Johnny's head, putting most of your weight on your feet. It hurt to sit like that but at the end of the day, there was a bullet in his head and not in yours.

"(y/n)..." Johnny breathed, trancelike— you ignored the way your heart thumped a little louder, your chest ached a little more. Had he ever called you by your first name before? Your brain struggled to remember and found it hopeless when Gyro headed over, Hot Pants' limp body in tow. Gyro's eyes widened but if he felt any which way about Johnny laying in your lap, you couldn't particularly tell. Johnny's eyes had closed again by the time Gyro put Hot Pants' onto the deck, roughly, letting him slump over with Cream Starter still hanging from his hand.

Oh.

"Make him sit up," Gyro grumbled as he grabbed Hot Pants' hands, cursing under his breath as he fiddled with Cream Starter. After everything, the last thing you wanted was to start up another argument— your mind was too riddled with "what-ifs" and "maybes"— so you wriggled your arms under Johnny's armpits and hoisted him up, letting him lean against your injured shoulder and chest with a bated breath. Johnny hummed, unaware of your discomfort, and let himself sink against you while you adjusted your arms to awkwardly wrap around his chest.

It took Gyro a moment to get Cream Starter to work, a slow dribble of flesh dripping down the side of the lighter-like stand. It was surprising that it even worked considering Hot Pants had been out cold, but in the end, you found yourself fighting back a smile knowing he was still alive. Johnny shifted then, and you winced, his weight pressing harder against your wounds. It didn't help that there was still a dull ache from Texas Red's stand in your side. Even with the bullet gone and with Iron Maiden's healing, you wondered if you would ever be able to get past that ache. It had been there for so long, that you'd almost feel a bit sad once it was gone.

"All right—" a steady stream finally shot out from Cream Starter and Gyro leaned close, narrowed eyes trained on the wound dead-set in the middle of Johnny's forehead— "Let's see if this works." You nudged your head over near the crook of Johnny's neck to watch the stream nestle itself into the hole, slowly but surely pushing up the bullet. Johnny stirred again, slinking against your wavering body while you tried not to let your pain show. Gyro met your eyes, raising a brow at your gradually scrunching features. Johnny's eyes opened slowly and his hand came up to rub at his forehead, not noticing your arms around him.

"Hey! Is your head feeling alright? Listen! I think I just came up with something," Gyro began, focused on Johnny now instead of you, "an original gag. But listen up, I'm only going to do it once, so pay attention. Only once alright...?" You raised a brow, too busy trying to understand what the hell Gyro was trying to do while your arms were still holding Johnny up. You probably should let go of him. Gyro scooted off the deck, taking a couple of steps back from the deck with a grin before holding up four fingers.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"...Four."

"Excuse me... let me pass," Gyro swept his hand through the air, going from holding up four fingers to two to a "zero" made out of his two fingers. Your brow furrowed— what the hell did that mean? Four, two, zero? It made no sense. You racked your mind for some hidden funny meaning that you just couldn't understand but the more you thought about it, the less it made sense. How was it supposed to be funny? Could it even be considered a gag? You almost wanted to ask him to do it again.

"And that was the gag! What do you think?" Gyro added, crossing his arms over his chest with a wider smile. Johnny tilted his head and you expected him to question Gyro's gag. Instead, he put his fist to his chin and nodded fervently, as if it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. You deadpanned until you realized that Johnny must have been faking it. There was no possible way Johnny had found it funny. Had he? There was no way.

"Hmm, it was pretty good. It's pretty hilarious actually."

What?!

"Right? It gets funnier with time. But don't take my idea just because you like it."

"What the hell did that even mean?" You didn't get an answer to your question when Johnny, instinctively it seemed, recoiled suddenly, hitting your nose with the back of his thick ass skull. The sting was brutal, sending a wretched mix of pins and needles, or some other painful combination, all through your face. It traveled down to your shoulders which had risen, flush to your jaw as your body started curling in on itself.

"Fuck!" you cursed, yanking your arms away from Johnny to cradle your stinging nose. Johnny fell back, body unsupported, and again his skull dealt some damage, this time against your stomach. It took your breath away and not in a romantic sense whatsoever. Maybe this was your punishment for not finding Gyro's gag funny. But right now wasn't the time to think about that. Your whole body was aching now, old and new injuries alike.

"What was that for?" You slapped one hand down to push Johnny off you, then wrapped your arm around your stomach, tears already streaming down your face. You choked on groans and sobs as Gyro and Johnny looked on in, what was probably, horrid amusement. Your eyes scrunched up tight so you couldn't, and didn't want to be able, to tell. Ugh, all this because of a stupid joke that wasn't even funny. Seriously, had Johnny not realized that you had been holding him up?

"Shit- Uh- I- Speedwagon- I," Johnny stumbled over his words, holding himself up with wavering arms as he shot glances at Gyro. He didn't meet Johnny's eyes and instead watched you curl in on yourself, watched as your hands subconsciously grabbed at your wounds. Gyro's eyes widened then hopped onto the deck, shuffling toward you. Your eyes were still shut and you were a blubbering mess and Gyro really didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he hadn't noticed earlier. He couldn't even fathom how you had held back your cries— your wounds were severe, and he knew that without even seeing them.

"Speedwagon..." you didn't respond and continued to curl in on yourself, breathing hard, "(y/n). Let me... Let me help you." You shook your head with a whimper— Gyro calling you by your real name made your head spin with more discomfort than you were already in. He sighed, shuffled closer, then placed a hand on your shoulder; thankfully, it was the uninjured one. You reached a shaky hand up to slap his off but it was too weak and barely registered as a slap in the first place. He sighed again and tugged at you, gently, but it was enough to make you turn over. You kept your gaze back on the horizon again.

"I'm fine, I... don't need your help," you mustered as you dug your nails into your injured shoulder subconsciously, "I'm fine. I just didn't expect Johnny to... do that." You hoped they hadn't noticed. That was the last thing you needed. Gyro gritted his teeth, let the words sink in, then clicked his tongue. You expected him to just back off and believe your white lies so that you could go take care of it yourself later. He instead pulled your shirt up just enough to reveal your abdomen and the slipshod way the bandages were wound over your side.

"What the hell are you..." Your stomach twisted into inextricable knots when you saw Gyro's eyes narrow; your breath stilled. What was he doing? Why was he looking at your wounds like that? He wasn't supposed to notice. You choked on excuses and questions and curses and lies as Gyro kept your shirt up, his fingers trembling. You hadn't meant for him to see your wounds— you just wanted to heal in peace without him or Johnny anywhere near you. Now, here you were, being judged again. Your eyes shot to Johnny's but he was staring too, his blue eyes filled with storming fury.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Johnny hissed, his eyes trained on your battered body. You swallowed hard and you found your nails digging into the soggy wooden deck when Gyro's hand tightened around your shoulder.  When you turned to face him, you found him nodding at Johnny. Your mouth opened to protest as you watched Johnny reach over and grab Hot Pants' Cream Starter, his pale hand wrapped around Hot Pants' olive-skinned one. The skin was dribbling down the edge of the lighter-stand again.

"I- No- I'm fine- Just leave it alone," you stammered as Gyro pulled you against his chest, one arm around your chest to prevent your arms from reaching down and blocking your injuries. You gritted your teeth as you wriggled in his grasp, ignoring how much your body protested against your attempt to fight back. Still, you could do nothing as Gyro peeled off your sagging bandages, revealing an awful-looking wound that even you had tried not to look at over the past few days. You didn't even want to acknowledge the fact that it was starting to smell off.

"Stay still," Gyro chastised before whistling Valkyrie over and reaching for something in her saddle bag. He pulled out a small flask, spun it open with his thumb, and flicked it open with his nail. You could only watch as he drew it closer to your side and notice just how warm his breath was against your cheek when he said 'sorry' and poured the alcohol onto your wound. The second the cool liquid hit your wound, you bucked back, hitting your head against the thick of his neck with heavy breaths and teary eyes.

"Johnny, go," Gyro said before you could regain your senses. You watched through tears as Johnny shot Cream Starter into your wound, the liquid wriggling into your wound and fixing what Iron Maiden could not. You held back screams and thrashed in Gyro's grasp, breathing hard as you tried not to show just how horrible it hurt. How had Johnny not thrashed when you had been holding him up? Your shoulder was killing you from the placement of Gyro's arm under yours as you tried not to dwell too long on your current reaction to the treatment of your wound.

"Your wound was infected," Gyro whispered against your cheek, his muscular arm wrapping tighter against your chest, "you're lucky we caught it now. It was bound to get infected in the next couple of days." You whimpered, tears starting to well in your eyes— embarrassment was an emotion you were getting to know a little too well. You kept your eyes down low as Johnny shot Cream Starter into the other wound on your side, the one you had gotten earlier that day. You winced again but the wound didn't hurt as much so you let yourself watch a crushed bullet pop out of it and fall onto the deck.

"I... Th- I- Thank you," you mustered out as Gyro let you go, allowing your shirt to finally fall back into place, "I can do the last one myself." You shuffled away from him, face unnecessarily hot as you felt his and Johnny's eyes still on you. When you met Gyro's eyes after a few moments, you found they softened, just slightly before he nodded to Johnny. You turned over your shoulder and saw Johnny shuffle back, holding Hot Pants' hand out to you with Cream Starter still in it. Gyro sighed and got to his feet, hopping off the deck to go bother Valkyrie with his gag.

"Ms. Horsie, let me pass."

"Why didn't you tell us about..." Johnny trailed off as you took Hot Pants' hand and turned away from him, unbuttoning the collar of your shirt to shrug it down your shoulder. It was hard to see but you would be able to manage, surely. You peeked over at Johnny who watched you expectantly, looking almost desperate for an answer. How interesting that he wanted to know now. How interesting that he wanted to be nice now. You held back a roll of your eyes and instead shot Cream Starter at your wound until the second bullet popped out.

"Was I supposed to?" you asked exasperatedly, dropping Hot Pants' hand onto your lap as you buttoned your collar back up, leaving the last one undone as you always had. It was then that you noticed the absence of your bandana— you sighed, it was probably inside the cabin somewhere. You hoped it was at least. You didn't have much to cover your face with until you could get a new one if you had lost it. You sighed again and ran a hand down your face, ignoring the conflicted look on Johnny's face.

"Alright you two, let's get going. I sprayed Hot Pants' wounds too before he could wake up," Gyro called from where he and Valkyrie stood and you blanched. You had completely forgotten your plan to leave them, a plan you had whispered to yourself, a plan that you had planned to get Hot Pants in on. You looked down at his hand in your lap, then at him. You couldn't ask that of him now. But... you looked at Gyro and then at Johnny who had turned to the destroyed door in thought. You bit your lip hard— you would just have to wait until you got to the next checkpoint so you could leave. There were several reasons you could come up with by then.

You got to your feet and headed for the doorway as Gyro started calling for Johnny, their voices fading once you stepped inside. You took a look around, trying to find the red bandana you had gotten attached to. You headed for the spot that you and Johnny had been lying in, hoping that you'd find it somewhere in the mess of wooden shards. Your brow furrowed as you caught a corner in a pile of shards, poking out like it was calling for help. You grimaced and crouched down, slowly sweeping some of the shards away with the back of your hand.

There, under all the wood, you found a ragtag-looking piece of cloth you could barely call your bandana anymore. It must have gotten torn up by the falling shards of wood, but there was nothing you could do about it now. You sighed and looked around the room, spotting a rumpled gray-blue bedsheet on a bed in the corner of the cabin. There were some more shards of wood lying on the bed, leaving a couple of tears in the middle. One corner had been spared, devoid of any rips or tears. It would have to do.

You reached over and grabbed a shard of wood and stabbed it into the sheet and the mattress before tugging on the bedsheet. It came off with a ragged rip, leaving you with a great heap of fabric that you would have to use until you could get a new one. You thought back to your lull in funds then sighed— you would probably just have to make it pretty at the next stop instead. You fiddled with the fabric, then reached back with one corner of it in hand before joining the other corner behind your head. You tied it tight with a thick knot then peered at a broken mirror. Three mirrored versions of you glimmered back.

You walked out of the cabin with some odd version of hope, like you were someone new. You turned to look at Johnny as you walked out and found him paler than usual, the side of his face covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You took a step forward with a loud creak, making Johnny turn around with a state of shock etched permanently on his face. You tilted your head, half-expecting an explanation. Instead, Johnny looked at Hot Pants, then called over Slow Dancer to hoist himself up onto her back.

"O...kay," you muttered before calling Thunderstruck over. As you got onto the saddle, you peered over at Hot Pants whose top looked mussed with. For a second it looked like... no. You were just seeing things because of the way his top was sitting. You looked at him one more time, hoped that it wasn't the last, then followed behind Gyro and Johnny who had surprisingly come to a stop at the edge of the birchwood orchard. Your heart squirmed under their gaze— just because they were being nice now, it didn't mean you were going to just let everything slide. You steeled yourself then maneuvered Thunder between Valkyrie and Slow Dancer.

YOU WERE GOING TO LEAVE DURING THE NEXT STAGE.

pretending like it didn't take me two days to post this on here X3

[teethkid67]

fantober day 16 - ghost and kloktober day 16 - memorial for the fallen

what if you were seemingly murdered for silliness crimes but actually you werestill alive lol haha right wouldnt that be crazy

[divinemissem13]

What You're Willing To Overlook 10

@flufftober Day 10: Iced Beverages Fandom: The Closer/ Major Crimes (Brenda/Sharon) 200 words, G Read all chapters here

---

It wasn’t the lingering glances, or that they stood just a little too close.

It wasn’t the extended meetings in Chief Johnson’s office with the blinds drawn, or when they started taking their lunches around the same time.

It wasn’t even when Tao swore up and down that he saw them out to dinner together, holding hands across the table (no one believed him without definitive evidence).

No, the squad figured it out one morning after pulling an all-nighter, when everyone was loopy from lack of sleep.

That was the morning that the chief sprung for fancy coffees for the whole squad, just so she could get herself some over-caffeinated sugary blended thing covered with whipped cream. The whipped cream ended up on her nose, of course, and right there in front of the whole squad, the captain wiped the whipped cream away and then licked it off of her own thumb with a wink while the chief grinned at her.

The squad may have been exhausted … but they werestill the best detectives in LA.

When the women moved to Chief Johnson’s office, Tao turned to the bullpen with hand outstretched and a know-it-all smirk. “Pay up, gentlemen!”

[kyndaris]

A Hidden World

Popo and I woke early the next day, mostly owing to the return of my temporary insomnia, but also because during our trip through Turkey, we were expected to always be on the coach by 8AM. As for why my insomnia returned? Impossible to know although I chalk it up to me watching YouTube videos quite late on my phone and sneaking in a few songs on my Switch before bed. 

Hey! Even though I was travelling overseas, a girl’s got to treat herself, all right?

Regardless, we were up and getting our luggage stowed into the underbelly of the coach and eating a decent breakfast. By 8AM we were seated on the coach and ready for the long journey east to a small town in the Black Sea region of northern Turkey: Safranbolu. 

Along the way, we stopped for lunch and also enjoyed brief toilet breaks at petrol stations along the highway. At one particular stop, a Shell station, I purchased some hot chocolate that was middling at best. To be fair, it was still superior to whatever I had in North America but once you’ve had Australian coffee/ hot chocolate, there is simply no going back. Especially if you like milk froth.

It was about 2PM when we pulled into the UNESCO World Heritage City of Safranbolu. Of particular interest to tourists is the Old Town, which showcased hundreds upon hundreds of preserved red-roofed Ottoman houses on cobblestone streets. The only thing missing were horse drawn cabs. While I was wandering the streets and admiring it from above, the architecture of the houses somewhat reminded me of old Tudor-style houses although there werestill quite a few differences.

Unfortunately, leading Popo around the city centre meant that I missed out on many an explanation from the tour guide. Wikipedia, which is CLEARLY a reliable source that should be cited often, tells me that the name of the town derives from the spice, Saffron, and the Greek work ‘polis.’ 

And to be fair, the growing  of saffron or ‘safran’ by the locals is still very common practice in the city, what with all the saffron scented performed and flavoured Turkish delights that were on sale. 

Once we had viewed the the Old Town from above at a lookout, we headed to our hotel that was close by and modelled in the original Ottoman style. Afterwards, we headed to the centre to get in some ‘shopping. And shop I did! In fact, as I roamed the stores, I bought myself a handmade leather courier bag for only 700 Turkish lira! Others might have been able to haggle further this was not a skill I possessed.

Walking along with a few other members of the tour group, we stopped by a few stores to try out their free samples of Turkish samples. True, it was a ploy to get us to come in and actually buy their merchandise, but it also helped satiate my sweet tooth.  In fact, I even picked up some Turkish delights, courtesy of one fo the tour members hoping to bribe me back to their place and into the clutches of their diabolical mother who wanted to keep me as a prized pet. 

You might be asking anyone would do that. And for that well thought out question, I have no answer except maybe I had somehow imprinted on this mother. Or she thought me cute and adorable in spite of my actual age and temperament. 

After all, I can be quite playful and mischievous if I so wish. I was born in the Year of the Monkey! But, I’m also quite serious and very down-to-earth.

And if that sounds like an excuse, it is. 

In any case, our half-day in Safranbolu was quickly over and we retired to our hotel with its quaint little room that was supposed to sleep two.

[olive-heathcliffe-notbps]

well. he has a brother. had. had a brother called nine. one of six’s kids. but six and nine got. reset. and nine went back to before he was kidnapped by six. so. they werestill human. until mark gave him mad and. turned him. because he let his attachment get too strong while he was watching them through the mirror

yallre .. using the word attachment very loosely and that kinda worries me but wtv . uhhh OH I REMEMBER NINE i talked to them liek exactly once . n mark killed n turned them cuz they turned human ?? uhhhhh yeah that is. no good . didnt know he could do that yet though good 4 him but thats not the point . ill try 2 help him as best i can !!! where is he ?

[cvthandshasthesolution]

i wish i could have said sorry to you i dont care if you were the one who hurted me you didnt even know you were hurting me you didnt know about it its not your fault i miss you so much i just wish i could have said sorry to you even if you were the one who made me almost cut myself i wish i could have said sorry to you i wish i could have said sorry to you so much please i just wish that could have happend i just wish i could have said sorry in time i wish we still were friends so much i want to end my own life what have i done what have i done i just wish we could be friends for longer i dont care if i got the short end of the stick i justt wish we werestill together so much please

[sarahthecoat]

in the middle of replying to this, tumblr closed itself, grr. anyway, what i was saying, is we don't know if paying the estate meant they could do anything, or if there werestill restrictions. possibly even including, dont talk about the agreement. still, they didn't have to be nasty to fans, there is always "no comment".

99% of me loves what we’re experiencing with Good Omens and OFMD. But there’s 1% of me that remembers how BBC Sherlock fans were treated when presented with two characters that were on the same path.

Is it just me or does it feel like we were gaslighted for years? And even now, people still look back on us as an embarrassment to Tumblr and fan culture.

[iliveforunkown]

Did you really mean it when you said you loved me from the moon and back? 

[xoryugujixo]

18+ draken x gn!reader

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

tw/degradation, hair pulling, oral sex, thoat fingering, mentions of saliva, mocking, begging, angry sex, messy sex, heavy pwp, reader doesn't orgasm, wannabe praise, roughness

there both of you were sitting on his bed with him standing in front of you in the complete nude.

“kennnn!” you squeal or what came out as a gargled mess as draken had shoved his long veiny fingers down your throat.

“what?” he stated in an also venomous tone. as you had only heard your cold-hearted yet loving and protective boyfriend use this tone of voice on people he was getting ready to fight. never not once has he used it on you. now you understood why he used it, the power it simply held to make you feel like a son getting scolded by his mother, and employee getting fired by their boss, even a puppy getting thrown on the street. ‘yeah now i get it’.

your boyfriend gently placed his hand around your throat getting closer to you “you just gon’ sit there lookin’ dumb and pathetic? what is it, sweetie?” as if you could answer him, his pretty ass fingers werestill in the back of your throat obstructing you from letting out any sensible syllables. but draken didn't need to hear you to understand what you were trying to say.

it was either ‘kenny why are you being so mean’, ‘kennnnnn’, or ‘please stop’ and he wasn't interested in hearing anything that came from those pretty pouty lips of yours right now for you had upset him past the point of providing mercy for you. right now he was solely focused on one mission, and that is to reciprocate the same torture you had just put him through.

“that's what i thought. all that talkin for nothin’ right? when it just got you in this situation” his hand tightening around your throat and lifting your head to meet his cold mean gaze that screamed rage and displeasure. letting out a final gag as your loving boyfriend pulling his saliva-coated fingers out only for him to suck on them himself as he let out a core gripping groan.

“kenny, please..” you whimpered with tears threatening to fall out, tugging his waist bringing his cock closer to your saliva covered face but instead of giving you what you yearned for he yanked your hair back making you squeal again and the tears that were staying in the corners of your eyes finally falling.

“you really just can't keep that cock hungry mouth of yours closed for fucking minutes baby. i had some small amount of faith you would be a good baby for me and just follow instructions like you usually do but looks like that was wrong yeah?” before you could try to protest that you were ‘kens good baby’ he suddenly shoved his thick member down your throat catching you off guard making a fat globe of spit come out of you onto his cock. your draken had always been gentle with you to let you get used to his large size cause he never wanted to hurt you. but i guess we can see where all of the spoiling has gotten you.

“fuuuuck, who knew that mouth of yours had that much more potential other than spewing out useless shit y/n.” draken knew he was about to come undone any second now. the way that you looking gagging and choking around his length, the way your eyes were bloodshoot and pupils were blown and how could he forget the way you're gentle hands were holding onto his thighs for dear life for some type of relief. as he pushes your head further until your nose was flat against his pubic hair and he released his hot salty seed down your throat not giving you a choice but to only swallow.

draken was already starting to get dressed back up and layed down on his bed leaving you still confused and stunned. he had just left you sitting there with cum still running down your chin, hair disheveled, and cheeks stained with tears.

“kenny...what about me?” you asked while starting to crawl towards him pitifully. he opened his eyes and side-eyed you while patting his lap as a signal for you. making your way towards him with shaky legs sitting directly where you needed him most trying to grind on him knowing it would end up bad for you. pushing your underwear aside revealing a sticky clear white gushing mess sliding down to your bottom onto his sweats.

“looks like you gotta situation to take care of down here. but i swear to God if I see any signs that you touched yourself you will see real anger from me.

[crusty]

“I’m gonna block everyone that puts Homestuck on my dash” my brother in karkat you made Homestuck fanart

if i saw you in real life i would tear your fingernails off one by one while you werestill conscious how dare you say this to me

[itslottiehere]

im deunk and i msis u j

i wish we werestill talking

[verifiefangirl]

Something nessian — where Nesta has made one of her trademark cutting remarks, but also where we get to Nesta’s POV so we can see all the inner emotional distress and pain she is in. So basically, hit me with the angst please 😁

So this seems more like a fanfic ask than an HC and I haven’t written fanfic in yoooonkks so I’m very sorry if its terrible. 

Trigger warning: Story contains abusive and rapey elements 

Broken 

Nesta was furious…No shewas livid. She hadn’t let herself feel any emotions for months and wouldhappily live her life in this endless void if it wasn’t for that Brute. She knew he was probably thereason they were here in the Illyrian camps and she was freezing her butt off.She didn’t even know when she’d get to go back home.

Home,what a funny four lettered word. She couldn’t remember the last time she had aplace to call home or felt it. Certainly not in the mansion that the first faeprick paid hadn’t been a home, the sham of a cottage was one of the worstperiods of all their lives and hadn’t been a home either. Was Velaris even herhome? What did it matter to her anyway? She had never belonged anywhere andalways knew she was different. She gave up a long time ago trying to fit in.

She kicked the door inanger. And now she was here, shacking it up with the Illyrian ass whose lifegoal it seemed was to piss off the oldest Archeron sibling. Everything had beenfine, the first couple of weeks they avoided each other like the plague. He lether own thing and she let him do his but yesterday he had ordered her to drinkless or he was going to cut her off completely. She banged her fist against thedoor angrily, a scream bubbling up her throat.

She couldn’t sleepwithout the alcohol, couldn’t function. It helped her numb out and barely becognizant of what was going on around her. It soothed the torn, ravaged part ofher soul that felt never ending and seemed to gape wider and wider every day. Atleast she still got her pick of men to sleep with her. She barely got her rocksoff but the feel of a warm body next to hers, in her, helped her feel lessalone and afraid.

She pulled out her flaskfrom under the bed and took a deep swig. Her latest night time partner shouldbe arriving soon, and she couldn’t wait. It was like a burning itch that neededto be scratched or else her mind would wander…to images…memories from the warand she didn’t want to deal with that. She didn’t even know if she’d ever beready to deal with all the death and carnage she’d spied. She took another longswig as she remembered the foul stench of the rotting corpses and the tang ofinnocent blood being spilled on the war ground.

The sound of the bangingdoor had her breaking out of her reverie and she’d never scuttled out of herroom faster. Dodging all of Cassian’s numerous strewn weapons, she opened thedoor, the cool gust of wind hitting her face and momentarily waking her up fromher fog. The handsome Illyrian she had sought stood there, an arrogant smile tohis face, his mouth opening to say something, but she merely pulled him flushagainst her, hard, and enveloped his mouth a savage kiss. With her flaskclutched in one hand and his shirt fisted in the other she started tugging himtowards her room, never easing up on the kiss.

He seemed delighted byher eagerness if the thing pushing against her stomach was an indicator. His handswere everywhere, roaming her bottom, cupping her breast. She could do this, thiswas ritual, this was something she was familiar and accustomed to. The onlything she seemed to have control of nowadays when her feelings where spirallingout of control. She could barely remember his name or the dozen others beforehim.

He pushed her onto thebed roughly before hovering over her. His hands pinned her above her head andhis mouth roved over her neck, his hot breath doing nothing for. She knew sexwas supposed to be this great, exciting fun experience but for Nesta it wasnothing more than two bodies joining together, most days she never even reacheda peak herself, but it was an escape and that’s all that mattered.

He started ripping offher dress and her eyes went to the ceiling, fixated on the bleak white colour.She thought she heard the door close in the distance. She let out a hiss of painas he bit her breast roughly, but he seemed to take it all in stride, seemingunfazed. He freed one of his hands and spanked her ass rather hard, the soundreverberating of the barren walls and she let out a whimper of discomfort thistime.

“You like that you, bitch?”He asked in what he thought was seductive tone.

Nesta’s heart startedracing. She was not enjoying this anymore and tried to free her hands, so shecould rein it in and take control, but he wouldn’t relent. Instead his hand wentto her throat, choking her and not lightly.

Her heart was beating sohard now that she was scared that it was going to fly out of her chest. She twistedand tried to buck him off, but he smashed his lips to hers, silencing her cries.

“That’s its baby.”

Flashes of Tomas face poppedinto her head and tears gathered at the corner of her eyes, unwittingly. No. No. NO.

She would not yield for thisfucker. She hadn’t yielded last time and wasn’t planning to start. She buckedand bucked, writhing, anything to get her hands free but it was futile.

His mouth was punchingher own over and over again and she bit down on his tongue, hard.

“Fuck! What the fuck?!” Heswore, his face red with fury.

“Stop.” She yelled,trying to buck him off again.

“Like hell you cocktease.”His face suddenly twisted ugly as he went back to attacking her breast roughlyand she bit his shoulder. He let out a roar and slapped her so hard she thoughtshe saw stars. The tears that swirling her eyes finally fell.

“Stop, stop, stop.” Shekept whispering repeatedly like a prayer. She wished her brain could float outof her body and she could go someplace else, a place of peace.

One second the man was onher the next he was on the floor and Cassian had his fist in his face, pummelinghim continuously. She was dazed. She hadn’t even heard him come in.

A small part of her foundsatisfaction in seeing blood starting to ooze out of his nose and mouth, thecrunching of his bones as he rearranged his face, but the larger part of herbrain was scared shitless that Cassian was going to kill the guy.

She had never seen him somanic…furious…so unhinged.  She heardmore bones breaking in his body and the man letting out a cry of agony. Nestascrambled off the bed and pressed her front to Cassian’s back, wrapping her armsaround his torso, trying to heave him off.

“You’re going to kill him!”She cried in panic. Hadn’t there been enough death after the war. Usually Nestawould relinquish in his suffering. He was getting what he deserved but she feltlike she was no innocent party to all of this. She felt responsible, guilty, disgusting.

“Good.” Cassian face was enraged,and he spat on the warrior. He lifted him by the strands of his short hair.

“If I ever see you nearher or any other woman in this camp, I will make sure to finish what I started,now get out of my face!”

She didn’t think shecould ever expunge the image of the man crawling out of her room. He was barelyrecognisable with the blood and swelling. Her arms were still wrapped around Cassian’storso. She could feel every fuming breath he took. She was also still painfullynaked. She didn’t know how long they stood but Cassian’s breathing eventuallyevened out and he gently removed his fur lined cloak off his shoulder anddraped it over her bare body. His eyes averted to the floor, but his hands werestill clenching and unclenching as if he could still feel the guy. A muscle inhis jaw ticked, oh he was livid.

“This is why you need training.You may be strong willed and strong minded but what good does that do in situationslike this.” He said in a low dark voice. Her hand itched to slap him, but she refrainedherself from doing so…just barely. Instead it took all her remaining energy tomuster up her usually spite and swagger. She couldn’t let him see how shakenshe was, how embarrassment laced her whole being and essence. Her life couldn’tget any lower than this.

Her mouth twisted up in acruel smile as she pulled the cloak closer around her slim frame. She knew howto hit him where it hurts. She clucked her tongue and cocked her head.

“You’re just jealous.”

Cassian whirled around,eyes wild as he stared at her incredulously. His body trembling with tension.

“What ever forsweetheart?” He drawled. “That I didn’t almost rape you?” She flinched from hiswords, anger laced his tone. This is what they were good at, jibing and tearingeach other to shreds.

“No,” She said, nevermissing a beat, her smile now borderline sardonic

“That I’d rather sully myselfwith warriors and fae bastard than an actual bastard born.” Her voice droppedan octave as she let out a humourless laugh.

“Just like your father,Cassian, I want nothing to do with you. I can’t wait to be rid of you forever.Your mere presence makes me sick. How do you live with yourself? Knowing youonly bring misery and disappointment in people’s lives.”

This time Cassianflinched as he sucked in a breath. Such pain swirled in those hazel eyes. Toofar, too deep. His whole face fell as his wings drooped. It’s like everything holdinghim together just deflated.

His lips pursed in a grimline and he shot her a nod.

“Very well.” His voicebarely above a whisper. “You’ve made your point, Nesta.”

She almost cried aloudfrom his brokenness. She wanted to take it back, everything. She hadn’t meantone word, but they did their job and he left without another look back. She drywretched on the floor. Nothing could be worse than what she had done to Cassiantonight. Never had he used her name since they met. Never had he let her seehim so defeated. Everything was spinning, and nothing was making sense, shejust wanted everything to stop. She curled into a ball on the floor and let hertears lull her into an uneasy sleep.

[mercerspoems]

Just a Ghost

Just a Ghost - A #poem about feeling #ignored, #forgotten, #passedover and #patronising by the #living.

You’re just a ghost. A faded, sepiatone outlineof what was, and now isn’t. You’re just a chill down a spine. A prickled hair. A soft, hollow reminder of what used to be. You’re just a ghost.  Swimming in the grim etheryou try to find your friends. But all you find are artefacts of a life you used to know. You’re just a ghost. Phasing phantasmal through walls that never werestill looking for your…

[nespounta]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Nes Pounta (@nespounta)

#Paris #Paris2018 #Ivry #NeufQuatre #Playgrounds #BasketBall #WhereILearnedThisArt #Back #AfterYears #StillGotIt #OneShot #NoRepetition #BelieveMeOrNot #Haha #ThanksLilHeart #ForTheBall #BigUp #CrazyP #WeReStill #WeReSteel #StillGuerrilleros #StillForLife #StillHastaLaMuerte

[billys-hard-grove]

prompt where billy or steve asked the other boy out on a dare?

‘Look man, all I’msaying is, you talk a big game, Hargrove, but I’ve never actually seen you hookup with anyone.’  

They were hangingout at the campus cafe. The weather was beautiful, but the two frat boys werestill recovering from the party that they threw last night, so they preferredthe cool of the air-conditioned cafe.

‘I get plenty, asshole,don’t worry about it,’ Billy laughed and attempted to hit Tommy over the head.

‘Yeah sure,suuuure,’ Tommy’s eyes were honest to god twinkling when he continued. ‘I betyou’re actually a virgin. I bet you get all flustered when you talk to girls. Ibet you’re actually a real sensitive soul.’ Tommy pinched his cheeks for goodmeasure and Billy laughingly swatted his hand away.

‘You’re full ofshit man, I can charm the pants off of anyone.’

‘Anyone?’ Tommyraised an eyebrow. ‘You wanna put money on that?’

Billy looked athim, clearly intrigued. He knew his frat brother was never short on cash andfuck if he couldn’t use some extra cash right now.

‘50 bucks says youcan’t get a phone number from the first person that walks through that door.’ Tommyput out his hand, daring Billy to take it.

‘Oh you’re on,man,’ Billy put his hand in Tommy’s. ‘Easiest money I’ve ever made.’

‘We’ll see,Hargrove.’

They shook on it,both boys confident they were going to win the bet as they waited for the doorto open.

It took 5 minutes for the bell above the door to ring. Billy whipped his head around eagerly tosee who entered, only to break into a loud groan when he saw who it was.

Steve Harrington walked into the café. Of fucking course.

Billy buried hishead in his hands and he heard Tommy laugh beside him.

‘Pay up, Hargrove, that is a lost bet right there.’

It was a well-known fact that they couldn’t stand each other, they were both on the basketball team and they were always up in each other’s face.

Steve and Billy had a history together. They had shared a dorm the first semester of their freshman year. They had actually gotten along well, a bit too well for Billy’s liking. He knew he was crushing on the gorgeous preppy boy, but he also knew couldn’t act on it.

Boys don’t kiss other boys. His father had made sure that he knew this.

When they both came home drunk from a party one day, Billy had forgotten that. He had forgotten everything when he looked at Steve, who was beaming back at him.

That night, they had kissed passionately and rutted into each other until they both came. It had been a hot mess of drunken coordination, desperation and desire and it had felt so right. It had felt so right to fall asleep with Steve curled up against his chest.

But when he woke up, it had felt all wrong. He was so angry with himself for allowing this to happen and he kicked Steve out of his bed, yelling at him and calling him every slur he could think of before he stormed out.

Two weeks later, Billy joined the fraternity and moved out of their dorm and into the frathouse.

For three years after that night, Billy pretended that he didn’t care. He pretended that the way Steve had looked at him didn’t haunt him at night, that it didn’t make him want to curl in on himself and cry. But as he sat there next to Tommy, staring at the boy of his dreams, he just felt tired.

‘I already have his number though,’ Billy tried weakly, but Tommy rolled his eyes.

‘Ask him out then, if he says yes, I’ll count it.’

To Tommy’s surprise, Billy actually got up.

Billy took a deep breath as he approached Steve. He may be tired of denying this side of him, but he also knew that Steve didn’t want anything to do with him. And rightly so, he had been a fucking asshole.

Before he could think about it any further, Steve spotted him. Billy saw him tense up as he straightened his back and glared at Billy.

‘Hargrove. What do you want?’ Steve sounded curt and annoyed and Billy’s heart fell.

‘Steve, I…’ he stammered. Their eyes met and suddenly Billy felt determined. ‘I just… Fuck, I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up. I’m sorry I pushed you away, I’m sorry that I hurt you and said all that stuff.’ He dropped his gaze to the floor and continued in a weaker voice. ‘I was just so fucking terrified. Of anyone finding out.’

Steve fixed him with a cold glare.

‘Find out what?’ He said.

Billy swallowed, hesitating for a second. Even though he had come to terms with his sexually, he still hadn’t told anyone. His father’s words ran through his head again, but Billy didn’t listen. Not anymore.

‘Find out that… That I’m gay, Steve.’

Steve nodded, looking not nearly as surprised as Billy thought he would be, which he guessed was only fair.

‘I know what I did was horrible and you have no reason to forgive me, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Steve.’ Billy looked Steve in the eye to let him know he was serious. ‘I like you, okay. I liked you from the moment I walked into our dorm freshman year and saw you hanging up that godawful Toto poster and I have never stopped liking you since.’

Billy thought he saw the corner of Steve’s mouth twitch upwards when he mentioned their first meeting, but he was too scared to hope.

‘If there is any chance, any chance at all, that you might feel the same way… meet me at the clock at midnight.’

Steve just looked at him, his face unreadable.

Billy felt himself shrink under his gaze, so he sent him a last pleading look before turning around and walking back to Tommy.

Tommy had watched the entire interaction and was looking at him with the biggest grin, thinking Billy had been turned down mercilessly.

‘And? You’ve got a hot date coming up, Hargrove?’

Billy glanced over his shoulder at Steve’s retreating back.

‘We’ll have to wait and see.’

-

Billy was standing underneath the old campus clock, glaring at the time like it had personally betrayed him. He had been waiting here since 11 and it was almost 2 now. He sighed, feeling stupid and so goddamn sad.

Of course Steve would not forgive him, why did he even think someone like Steve would ever consider being with him. He was a fucking mess. Billy felt tears pricking behind his eyes and started walking. But he hadn’t even taken 10 steps when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

‘Hargrove! Wait up!’

-

The next day, Tommy handed Billy a crisp 50 dollar note.

‘I gotta give it to you man. I don’t know what you said, but that must have been the greatest play ever. I can’t believe you pulled it off.’

Billy stared at the money for a moment before his face twisted into anger.

‘Keep your money, man,’ he nearly growled. ‘I’m not playing anymore.’

[chrishinxmcgee2]

https://youtu.be/S2A0nv4SGQw

Man I wish embiid/jj werestill together