#would love for them to shut the fuck up and stop being uglie hypocrites one day

[lostinforestbound]

Hi! Could I request hcs from you on Rolan being jealous?

Absolutely! I had fun exploring this topic, so I hope you enjoy! This will be Rolan and a GN!Tav. To the people reading, Please feel free to add on to this and share your ideas!

Rolan and Jealousy

In Rolan's opinion, Jealousy is an improper and ugly thing to have; it sounds hypocritical when he gets jealous of a lot of things himself.

It's instinctive; his life has never been fair to him, and he never got to have what a lot of others do. It's deep rooted into his insecurity.

Loving parents? He wanted that, as his own family abandoned him. Food on the table? He wanted that too, why did he deserve to starve? Wizard Schooling? As an orphan, he never stood a chance of getting into one. No matter though, he doesn't need schooling! He's a prodigy!

Gods, he knows he shouldn't be jealous at all anymore, he will have everything he could ever want soon. It's unbelievably petty.

This jealousy starts extending towards Tav without him meaning to.

When they start taking interest in someone else, even if it's a simple conversation, his mind trails into the thought "That should be me."

As much of a loud, prickly person he is, he surprisingly says nothing about it. Instead is stews in his heart ready to burst, but he keeps it together.

Why is he so jealous if they're not even his partner? It's absurd and childish. Especially since he is unworthy of their attention. Once he has everything to provide for Cal and Lia, then he'll be worthy.

If Tav and him are together, it is a different story.

His jealousy is still quiet, but they notice how he holds their hand tighter when they speak to certain people. How his tail wraps around their calf. How he glares when other people decide to flirt with them.

Once he works on his own insecurity and Tav's reassurance that he's the only one for them, his jealousy starts fading away to nothing.

That doesn't stop him from playfully stealing them away from their companions with a "fuck off, they're mine".

Writing Blurb

When did he become such a prickly, bitter person? When, at some point of his life, did he become so jealous? Why is he so jealous of Tav, of all bloody people? Is it because they're a savior? That they saved his siblings where he couldn't? He should be grateful!

So why is he bitter, even though they saved everyone, including himself? Is he truly this entitled?

He doesn't see them approach him as he stews in his own thoughts. Usually he's not this insecure with himself, but he feels unworthy of them. He doesn't deserve them, not yet. The tower is not truly his, he has to refurnish everything to make it all of their homes. Cal and Lia love it so far, but there's still so much to be done.

Files need to be organized. All of the dealings fall on his shoulders now thanks to Lorroakan's demise. There's so much to do so he cannot truly have them yet-

His thoughts stop short when Tav kisses his cheek. "You're still dealing with these people? Don't you think it's time for a break?"

He subconsciously leans into the touch but stops when he realizes they pulled away. "I can't yet. There's too many-"

"You can do it later. Come have tea with me, or would you prefer some wine?"

He waves a dismissive hand, staring back down at the mess of papers in front of him. "I can't, Tav, they're all-"

A hand comes to his face, gently but firmly turning his head towards theirs. They don't say say anything at first, looking him straight into the eyes which makes him shut up instantly. He knows that determined look too well, and his mouth goes dry.

"You know I love you very much, right?" Before he could speak up, they continue on, "I'm already impressed with you. I don't need you to work yourself to death to prove you want to make this work. I love it here, and I love you. You shouldn't have to 'prove' anything to anyone, especially not to me."

"You're a savior-" Finger press to his lips before he finishes.

"I couldn't have done that without your help. Your arcane cannon saved my life that day. I thought I was done for until I called for your help," They state, pressing a kiss to his jaw then lips, "You're more than enough for me. Now, how about some reading and wine?" He closes his eyes briefly before that playful smirk returns, looking up at them. "I suppose if you want me to read to you that badly, I shall."

[b0mblover]

Hate, in Every Sense of the Word.

By: J

major tws for; suicide mention, domestic abuse, abuse, sexual assult mention, murder mention, (really just alot of violence tbh) self harm mention

uh, sorry? that theres so many tws, ig also minor tw for mention of sex too.

uh haha i uh, can you tell what happened tonight? it wasnt even the worst one, just, im tired of it.

talk abt living out of spite bc mannnn, thats all i been going off of for a good while now!

i uh, i really wanna make a certain food bc um. (LOOK I WANNA MAKW A LESS OILY FUCKER OKAY) but my father is awake meaning my mother will be too soon but im scared to even go out of my room bc theyre prob gonna fighttt.

hhhrbd okok ill shut up for now, go ahead and read the angry jirou bullshit ig 😭

(oh yea, if it wasn’t obvious. im talking about my mother in this.)

——————————

yknow,

you havent been a great person

or a good one even.

yet you still question as to why i dont love you

or like you,

maybe you have an idea of how much i hate you.

maybe not

i dont really care about your feelings.

at all.

not now.

i put up with this for fucking 14 years.

my entire fucking life.

ive put up with your shit.

but now?

now im done.

you have no idea how badly you fucked up.

when he said that “im sorry im a fuck up” 

yknow.

he mightve not been right for what he did.

but,

it was just a mistake.

it was a goddamn mistake.

you have any idea how many times ive uttered those words too?

how many times ive repeated them?

how many times i fucking meant it?

just because you “had it bad” doesnt mean shit to me.

you have no goddamn right to treat others the same way.

dont give me that “i dont know how else to act!”

bullshit.

bullshit you dont.

you treated your damn boyfriend just fine!

you had a goddamn kid

you had two goddamn children.

with this man that you fucking DESPISE.

you knew it back then too.

you told me you did.

you fucking told me.

almost nothing can compare to the anger i feel to you right now.

nothing.

you have no right to act like that.

no.

you have no goddamn right to hit another fucking living being.

for such a simple mistake.

i dont care if he talked about it since friday.

i dont give a fuck if he talked about it for months.

you.

you as a goddamn human.

have no right.

none.

in the slighest.

to hit another living being.

for talking about something in your eyes “too much”

or making a mistake.

youre a hypocrite.

need i remind you?

you said that after you broke up with the man you were having an affair with.

that youd be a better person.

stop the fights.

stop the beatings.

stop all of it.

and everything would be okay!

.

i didn’t believe you for a goddamn millisecond.

youre a liar.

just how you said i was.

you didnt quit.

you didnt stop.

hell two months after you hit him again!

you threatened to kill him and yourself!

cmon.

dont you get it yet?

i fucking despise you.

maybe to a degree i feel shocked.

but.

i really dont think thats it.

youre the root of my problems.

every single last fucking one.

——————

need i remind you as how i had to learn to cook, because you were too busy with your damn boyfriend to help me?

.

need i remind you how when i tried to show you that i was fucking cutting myself when i was 9 you only talked about how it looked ugly?

.

need i remind you about how many times you said that you didnt care if i hurt myself as long as no one can see it?

.

need i remind you about how you ignored the rope burn on my neck god knows how many times?

.

need i remind you how you denied fucking multiple peoples sexual assault because “it couldntve been like that”?

.

need i remind you of how many times i almost had to be hospitalized because of your neglect?

.

need i remind you of how many nights i spent alone, in the cold, in the dead of winter, just because you wanted to fuck your boyfriend?

.

need i remind you of what you yelled at me so many times?

.

need i remind you of what i seen?

.

need i remind you of how many times you blamed your abusive behaviors on medication?

.

need i fucking remind you of my entire purpose?

.

i dont care about your feelings anymore.

i gave up years ago.

but now.

i dont feel just numb for you.

i hate you.

in every sense of the word.

.

i dont care of what you or anyone else thinks of me.

.

i dont care about what you think of my appearance.

.

i dont care if you think im too thin or fat or whatever word youll use next.

.

i dont care about what you think because you’ll hate me no matter what.

.

you thought id stop being xxxx when you broke up with him.

you yelled at me.

no.

you fucking screamed at me for weeks.

im tired of even putting in the slighest effort of acting as if i fucking care.

i dont give a fuck about you.

and yknow?

if.

no.

if it would work.

if it was possible.

id fucking kill you.

id stab you.

right here.

right now.

to end my suffering.

to end his suffering.

all of it.

id end it all.

i dont care if its wrong.

because i know no one else knows about whats going on.

yknow.

only one person around here knows what youve done to him and me.

and i havent even met her in person.

yknow.

the people i used to be close with from school.

only just learned you had an affair.

i know that.

the police are do-less.

since you know them.

and hes a man.

not a woman.

it wouldnt be taken seriously.

that he should just fight back.

yknow.

youve ruined what life he has left.

his parents beat him.

his ex wife beat him, and cheated on him.

and here.

youve done the exact same thing.

yknow.

he’ll never get to see how love truely is.

because of you.

because of what youve done.

i cant say i really like him either.

but.

that doesnt give you the right to ruin his life.

.

yknow whats worse?

how i know the only reason that so far youve never dared to lay a finger on me.

is because ive proved that i won’t hesitate to beat the fuck out of you right back.

i know i joke about that night.

but.

really.

hitting you for doing that was the best decision i couldve made.

its kept me safer than i wouldve been for years. 

and even now.

if you were to as so much to touch me.

while in a fight.

id do it all over again.

you maybe 100 pounds heavier than me.

but you dont know how to fight against someone who wont just sit there and take it.

i wont forgive you for what youve done.

even if he will.

.

i want nothing to do with you.

get out of my life for good.

[starfoxrry]

.

[cayofdreams]

@mistressoflight​ asked: Just imagine you and Bakugou have been working together for a while and there’s all this sexual tension between you both because you’re afraid to act on your feelings for one another. Then one night at a friend’s gathering, you both are ogling each other. With a little liquid courage, you both decide to stop playing games and give into your feelings and have steamy makeout sesh which leads to y’all going back to your place for some good ol sexy times! 😁🙌🏾

~~~

YES!! We have the SAME BRAIN CELL!! 🤩🤩🤩

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: exhibitionism, making out, groping

He had a love-hate relationship with alcohol.

Sometimes he hated it.

But not because of its bitter contents, but because of how his bitter thoughts turned sweet at the sight of you. In fact, before tonight, he didn’t mind its taste. One could even characterize him as a heavyweight when it came to drinking. And yet, right now as he sat not even 10 feet away from you, it seemed the few sips he’d taken from his beer were already making him putty.

Though if he were being honest with himself, his sweet thoughts for you began long before this stupid party. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment his feelings for you became romantic, he just knew that they seemed to intensify with each passing day that you worked alongside him at the agency. Whenever you walked by, he lingered in the scent of you for as long as he could. Whenever he saw you smile, he begged for a way to photo-capture the moment with just a blink. And when you laughed, fuck- if only he could record each snorty giggle so he’d be able to listen to it whenever he felt down.

Perhaps these thoughts of you would be manageable if they were always so innocent.

But now that he had grown more into himself, and allowed himself to feel things that high-school-him would always block out, Bakugou had grown an abysmally deep desire to have you wrapped prettily around his cock.

Those scents that wavered off you would become drenched in his own as he smothered himself on top of you. That smile that decorated your beautiful lips would circle in a lovely ‘O’ as you felt the stretch of him plunging inside you. And that cute little giggle of yours would turn into cock-drunken moans as he drove you into euphoria with each orgasm.

Such debauched thoughts would plague him at every moment you were in his vicinity. He could blame it on the alcohol all he wanted tonight, but he knew these thoughts would only resurface with more vigor when he saw you the next morning.

“Fuckin’ beer...”

“What was that, Bakugou?!” Kirishima caught his low grumble as he plopped down next to him on the couch. “I thought that was your favorite brand!”

“Well it tastes like shit tonight!” Bakugou stood up, turning to go towards the kitchen. “There better be another kind in there, Shitty Hair.”

“Yeah, dude! There’s plenty!”

Bakugou grumpily walked to the kitchen, swinging open the refrigerator door to peek inside at the alcoholic contents. He must’ve been absent-mindedly reading the labels for too long because he suddenly heard a familiar voice ring out from behind him.

“Can you pass me a [redacted] while you’re down there?”

Despite your dreamy vocals rumbling pleasantly in his ear, he sucked his teeth as he slammed the door.

“Get it yourself, dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes at the retort before gliding yourself in front of him to reopen the refrigerator door. “So rude. You looked so bored, I thought I’d give you a task.”

Usually one to continue the banter, he became more enthralled at how your ass looked so perfect as you bent down to look at the assortment of chilled alcohol. He wondered how erotic the sound would be if he slapped his hand against it. Would it sound as sexy as your moans? How much would your flesh jiggle at the impact? Surely the sight would be just as appetizing as your smile.

“Hmm...I don’t see it here. I can’t believe they didn’t get any.” You squatted down to look at the alcohol on the bottom level. Your thighs flexed at the maneuver, slightly parted to balance yourself. Bakugou sipped from his ‘shitty’ beer as he gazed at your plush skin protruding from your skirt. “I guess I’ll just have this.”

Picking up a random bottle, you cracked it open taking a nice gulp. Bakugou saw the liquid go down your throat and he couldn’t help but imagine how smoothly- or unsmoothly you’d swallow his cum. A small smirk graced his face as he saw your face scrunch at the apparent bitter taste.

“Heh- You can’t even take a little bit of beer? Fuckin’ weak.”

“Hypocrite.”

“Hey! I ain’t no fuckin’ hypocrite, princess.”

Your body quivered at the raspy sound of the nickname. It wasn’t his first use of the bitterly sweet name, but you blamed the fact that you’d already had a beer or two on the reason for the rush of ‘adrenaline’ surging through you.

You lifted a shaky middle finger at him. “Hypocritical brute.”

Bakugou instantly took hold of your finger before wrapping his calloused hand around yours. He pushed you against the counter as he looked sternly into your eyes. “I might be a brute.”

Your heart pounded maniacally inside your chest. A matching throb with the pulsating inside your panties. Why were you reacting like this? For Ba-KA-gou? It just had to- HAD to be the beer. A lie you told yourself as you weakly pushed your free hand against his chest. “G-Get off. You’re ugly up close.”

Bakugou leaned more into you, moving his other hand up to grasp your cheeks. He could see the twitching of your eyebrows, the little trembles of your lips as you tried to avoid eye-contact. Your cheeks started to feel increasingly warm against his fingers as he glared at you.

Chuckling, he forced you to turn your head, getting a better look at how your face became so flustered at his motions. You finally met eyes with him and his heart seemed to skip a beat at how your e/c looked so prettily at him. “Back at ya.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the reply as you parted your lips to land another insult. But before you could say anything, you felt the hot touch of his lips smashing against yours. His kiss was messy, wet with his saliva and the remnants of beer in his mouth. You let out little whimpers as you continued to meekly push him away.

You wanted this. And you hated it.

Bakugou used one leg to lock you in place so he could freely explore your body with the hand wrapped around yours. He squeezed at your waist, adoring the moan that hummed against his lips. Sliding his hand down, he reached under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass. The firm squeeze made you part your lips and he didn’t miss the opportunity to writhe his tongue between your lips.

As his tongue ravaged your mouth and his hand ravaged your plush ass, your leg naturally came up to wrap around his. Seeing this as an opening, he took both his hands to lift you up on to the counter. Breaking from the kiss, he leaned over to suckle at your throat. The hands at the sides of your ass came up to fumble at your clothed breasts.

“Fuck...Katsuki~”

With your eyes still closed in delirium, your hands came up to grab at the locks of his hair, pulling him more into you. “Such a fucking brat. How long have you been wanting this, huh?”

“L-Less than however long you’ve wanted this...”

A rush of air left his lips in a breathy laugh as he squeezed at your nipple from over your top. He could see the hardened tip despite your bra and his cock grew from within his underwear. Slipping a hand under your shirt, he grabbed at your breast before pulling the cup of your bra down. He molded his fingers into you, taking advantage of how fluffy and soft you were.

You felt so fucking smooth and delicate within his coarse hands. Even though you worked just as hard as him, it seemed to have no effect on your creamy skin. He twiddled at your nipple, pulling and twisting the bud to hear the various mewls escape your lips.

“Stop p-playing with it...”

“Why the fuck should I stop?” He grinned as his other hand went under your skirt to feel your clothed pussy. His thumb ran over the fabric, collecting a bit of the slick that had seeped through it. “Look how you’re reacting. You’re already so fucking wet.”

Curling his thumb over the crotch of your panties, he circled softly at your clit. Your hips squirmed over the counter as you weakly tried to escape the touch.

“K-Katsuki~ Wait...”

“Shut up. I’m not fucking waiting for you anymore.”

Smothering his lips over yours for another kiss, his fingers slipped under the band of your panties and started to pull them down. A more intense rush of desire overwhelmed you and you opened your eyes to look at what you finally ached for.

But instead you froze. Your eyes met the excitedly red, curious ones of Kirishima as Bakugou continued to press messy kisses at your jaw. Eyes widened like a deer in headlights, you instinctively pushed Bakugou off as you hopped off the counter.

“Fuck, what’s wro-” As he noticed the look of shock on your face and he turned around to see the person for the cause of it. “F-Fuck! What are you looking at?!”

“What are you doing in my kitchen?!”

“None of your fucking business!”

“H-Hey! You can’t say that!”

Bakugou continued to grumble as he blushed furiously at the current predicament. Whatever boner he had instantly leaving.

You adjusted your panties and smoothed out your clothes before grasping Bakugou’s hand and leading for the door. “Alcohol run.”

Exiting out the apartment, you intertwined your fingers with his.

“Okay let’s make this quick so we can go actually get more drinks. My place is close by.”

“Tch. Yeah right, we’re coming back for those losers.” He let go of your hand to give a light squeeze at your ass. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for. Get ready for a long night, princess.”

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Pirate au pt 3

gwyn watched as the shadowsinger pulled into the harbor next to her own ship. 

she had two thoughts as she stared at the ship. 1. it was ugly as fuck. the whole dark thing was so overrated and overdone. the ship was black as a raven. and it was all black. gwyn scoffed in disgust, their captain had terrible taste. her second thought was she was going to slit every single throat on that ship. 

it seemed nesta had the same thought. not only had she pulled out her katanas but she was sharpening her dagger and had a pistol in front of her. gwyn’s saber was in her hand and she slipped her own dagger from her sleeve. 

emerie appeared from the shadows and stopped them in their tracks. 

“get the fuck out of my way or I will use this on you.”

“I am going to ignore that.” emerie responded “Look I want to destroy them as much as you but remember your ship rules.” 

gwyn took a breath a repeated them to her “1. money 2. revenge 3. loyalty”

“and money..” she said waiting for gwyn to finish

“overrules revenge” she said begrudgingly. gwyn was a lot of things but she was not a hypocrite. “and to get to the money we need their help.” 

“exactly” said emerie. what would gwyn do without her emotional rock.  

“well good luck trying to get nesta to put those swords.”

“already on it.”

gwyn made her crew stay to their dismay as she walked onto the dock. 

the captain of the shadowsinger wasn’t there. so she stood against a cart and waited impatiently. not even a moment had a passed when she was turned around and pressed up against the wall with a dagger against her throat. 

gwyn smirked. so it was that kind of day. 

she hated to admit it but he was beautiful. she bet his hazel eyes and dark hair made people weak in the knees. gwyn would know, she tended to have the same affect on men and women. 

even in the dark she saw the scar that cut across his sharp jawline. 

“what’s stopping me,” he pressed the knife harder against her throat “from dragging this blade across your pretty little neck and leaving you bleeding out in an alley” gwyn laughed, oh this was going to be so much more fun then she orginally had thought. “you’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble and now.” he whispered “now you’re going to burn” 

gwyn let the dark haired pirate talk. if she was being honest, she was slightly turned on, but he would never know that. gwyn yawned finally tired of this charade

she waited until his grip loosened a fraction and then headbutted him. the pirate was stunned so she twisted the knife from his hands slipped her own knife out and shoved him against the wall, pressing one against his throat and the other right in the soft spot between his ribs. “you would like my first mates sister, she also has a flair for the dramatics.” 

“now would you like to be civil or am I going to. what was it you said?” she winked “oh right drag this blade across your pretty little neck and leave you bleeding out in an alley?” 

he said nothing instead he kicked one foot behind the other releasing yet another blade and held it to her heart. 

gwyn smiled “good now were even.” they both retracted their respective blades at the exact same time. 

“now explain to me why I am refraining from killing you at this moment, majesty”

“oh yes very classy, make fun of my ships name while yours looks like a damn sewer.” he looked slightly offended so she kept going “what is it with men and black? did your mommy not give you enough attention so you turned all dark and sad” she mock pouted at him

“can it your ship is the equivalent of a my little pony” 

“at least we are original. I earned my reputation, when others see the lilac sails they either cower in fear or they get cocky” she smiled fondly at the memories “and boy do I love when they get cocky” she shot him a look “well you should know since I had you with your tail between your legs within seconds”

“good to know I can now check off two of the rumors as correct” 

“you’ve heard of me, I’m flattered”

the captain ignored her “that you arrogant as fuck and” he paused and gave her a once over that was rude beyond all measure “and you are absolutely insane”

“I coulda told you that” she winked at him “all you had to do was ask.” 

“I am this close to sewing your mouth shut and dumbing you in the harbor”

“but what would be the fun of that?” gwyn was seriously enjoying playing with him, serves him right for shoving a dagger to her throat as a greeting. “and besides, don’t you want to hear what I have to say?”

“if you don’t get to the fucking point soon your crew is going to be following a trail of your guts across all 7 courts” 

she waved him off “threats here daggers there. blah blah blah you truly do lack any creativity. my quartermaster could help you out with that you know.” he was starring daggers and she could tell he was getting impatient to a point where he might actually follow through on one of his threats “ok ok relax. have you heard of the huge hall?”

“I don’t buy it”

“so you’re a skeptic good to know, well anyway have you heard of elain archeron?”

“the witch? sister of that assasin who is a giant pain in my ass?”

“seer but that would be the one yes. well I know her from a while back and she owes me one.” 

“a favor from a witch, definitely would like to shoot you in the head but I gotta admit that’s impressive.” 

“well It helps when you’ve fucked her.” the shadowsinger’s captain cheeks turned slightly pink, hardly noticeable to the average eye but gwyn caught it and smirked. “now that we are on the same page may I continue with my proposal or are you going to start drooling again.” 

he didn’t respond so she took it as a yes. “well I have it confirmed by the seer that if I want any chance of getting the huge hall I need your help. so I have a blank map.” gwyn was taking a risk by offering up this information. “and a crew who lives on blood sweat and money ready to become rich” 

“I’m saying we help each other out. split it 50/50 and then when all is said and done I’ll kill you for ruining the vallahan job” she said simply 

“what’s stopping you from betraying me once you have what you need?”

“I’ll tell you what,” gwyn paused in suspense “I will make you a bargain” she saw the subtle signs of shock on his face. his pupils dilated, his breath hitched and his mouth opened slightly before he fell back into his stone cold demeanor 

“a bargain” he repeated and waited thinking it over before saying “state your terms”

“I nor any of my crew will betray you nor your crew. we will each share our resources and work together to find the huge hall. when we do find it we shall split it halfway between us and separate and will be allowed to harm each other to our hearts content.” 

“you didn’t say anything about harm coming to my ship”

“well obviously, when I burn it, it will be a great service to us all” gwyn thought it was hilarious and only slightly true but the captain did not seem to think so. “alright and no harm of your vessel will come by the silver majesty’s hand and vice versa. do we agree?”

He held out his hand and she took it and they shook. she could have sworn she felt sparks but blamed it on the bargain as a flash of light erupted where their hands met. and when the light was gone she had a new tattoo on her wrist. 

“by the way I’d like to know the names of the people I work with especially those I’ve bargains with.” 

“gwyneth, gwyneth berdara, you?”

“azriel.”

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Hold On Tight, Learn To Behave (Ao3)

[Wenzhou one-shot set post-canon, after episode 36 but before the bonus - NSFW and a quick warning as well for some blood/rough sex]

@evilteddybear requested: I’d love WKX and ZZS to have a conversation on all they’ve hidden from one another by the end of the series. WKX lied about his death, then ZZS, then WKX again. Talking isn’t dramatic enough for TV so they never reach true honesty. They love each other but also hurt each other. And I am not sure that WKX ever realizes that hurting himself hurts ZZS too.

and an Anon requested: I would love to see something set post-canon where ZZS's body is like a live-wire where instead of it being hard (lol) to get off, he manages it really really easy bc suddenly everything has come back and it’s A LOT. I just wanna see WKX fuck several orgasms out of ZZS (literally or in other ways) and ZZS being a mess about it bc holy shit he can FEEL again.

(special thanks/shoutout to @omgpurplefattie for suggesting that these two prompts go well together, you gave me the idea to combine them!)

--

“Lao Wen!”

Zhou Zishu sits up sharply, tongue still locked to the roof of his mouth from shouting his lover’s name, and he raises trembling hands to scrub tiredly at his face.

“Ah-Xu?” Wen Kexing’s voice is sleep-ragged at his side and Zhou Zishu does his best to slow his breathing, to try to stop his heart from pounding in his chest. He tries to stop seeing his zhiji dead right in front of his eyes, but if it’s not the sight of him falling off a cliff then it’s that of him lying dead and still in a burning shed, and if it’s not either of those two haunting memories then it’s the most recent, that of opening his eyes to find Wen Kexing fading right in front of him, hand in hand as his qi drained out of him like water through a sieve. A sob manages to escape his throat despite his best efforts and Wen Kexing is on him in an instant.

“Ah-Xu!” he gasps as he sits up and wraps long arms around him, hugging Zhou Zishu close to his chest. “What is it? What happened?”

Zhou Zishu knows even as he does it that it’s petty, but he pushes Wen Kexing away. Not as strongly as he has in the past, perhaps, but he does it, an elbow to his lover’s side that makes him wince and loosen his grip though he still doesn’t let go entirely.

Zhou Zishu’s hands curl into tight fists in the blankets still covering their laps and he tries to forget about Wen Kexing’s hands, ice cold and limp in his grip as Zhou Zishu had scrambled to find some way to pass his qi back. His arms remember the weight of Wen Kexing’s corpse, the way it had felt to gather his lifeless body close to his chest and bury his face in that silver-white hair, the only outward sign of the strain Wen Kexing had forced himself through just to make Zhou Zishu immortal - with no regard for his own life, or for how empty Zhou Zishu would find the world without his zhiji at his side.

And mourning these incidents feels so strange when the man himself is not only alive and perfectly fine at his side, but at fault for each and every one. It’s this thought that sends him staggering from their bed to shove his feet into his shoes.

“Ah-Xu wait, where are you going? It’s the middle of the night,” Wen Kexing points out like he doesn’t already know it. It doesn’t take Zhou Zishu long to find his outer robes to shrug on over the layer he sleeps in and he doesn’t even bother tying them shut before he stalks from the room and out into the rest of the sprawling armory around them.

He hears Wen Kexing curse and tumble out of bed behind him but he doesn’t stop to wait for him, he just starts wandering in an attempt to soothe the itching under his skin. In the aftermath of everything, after Zhou Zishu had found a way to pass their refined qi back and forth, after Wen Kexing had remained unconscious for over a month recovering from nearly fizzling out into nothing, they’ve been too happy about being reunited in the past few days since he woke for Zhou Zishu to find space to comfortably fit the fact that he’s angry as well. It hardly feels fair to say anything now, and he’s been forcing himself not to give a voice to the ugly thing in his chest mainly because he feels that he knows what Wen Kexing will say. That he lived, that they’re here now, that they finally have as long as they want to be together so why spoil it with unhappy things?

And Zhou Zishu is trying, but it’s so hard. He shoves it all away in his waking hours but then it comes back to haunt him in his sleep and he has to watch his zhiji die over and over again, every single fucking night.

Zhou Zishu comes to a stop at random and begins idly running his hand over the books on the closest shelf, searching for something he hasn’t read yet, or even just something he read so casually first as to be able to enjoy it a second time. Anything for a distraction, anything to try to get rid of the sourness of the bile rising in his throat from the remembered panic of opening his eyes, his senses fully restored, only for the first thing he felt properly since the application of the Nails to be his lover’s dead body. Well, nearly-dead, but it had certainly felt close enough to his newly awakened senses.

Wen Kexing finds him as he’s still brushing dust off of the contents of one of the cubbyholes in the shelf.

“Ah-Xu,” he calls, quiet in the gloom of the sparse few lanterns and the moonlight filtered through vents in the mountainside high above their heads, reflected and magnified by a neatly hidden collection of mirrors far above their heads. “There isn’t light enough to read by tonight. What are you doing?”

“Go back to bed.”

“Ah-Xu -”

Zhou Zishu moves without conscious thought when Wen Kexing reaches for him, fingers just catching on his sleeve before Zhou Zishu whips around to grab him and pin him to the shelves, a furious glare in his damp eyes. The blink-and-you’ll-miss-it scuffle isn’t nearly enough to wind either one of them, but they’re both breathing hard anyway into the scant space between them. Perhaps Zhou Zishu shouldn’t be surprised to find that it only takes the span of a single breath for Wen Kexing’s concerned gaze to go steely, rising to meet the fury he must find in Zhou Zishu’s glare.

“Go ahead,” Wen Kexing challenges with a haughty jerk of his chin. “What is it?”

It’s easier like this, with Wen Kexing seemingly angry right back at him. This is not his Lao Wen, this is the Chief of Ghost Valley - fitting, when he feels less like Ah-Xu and more like the leader of the Window of Heaven, full of a cold sense of merciless righteousness that usually ends with blood on his hands.

“I’m tired of dreaming about all the times you ripped my fucking heart out,” Zhou Zishu finally manages to spit and when Wen Kexing bares his teeth at him in a parody of a smile it’s almost a shock to see his teeth gleaming white rather than stained pink with someone else’s blood.

“Is that so? The feeling is mutual.”

“How many times would you have continued to make me watch you die if we hadn’t trapped ourselves in here?”

“You trapped us here with your avalanche trick, and I would have kept doing it as many times as necessary to keep you alive!” Wen Kexing is practically snarling, though he doesn’t fight against Zhou Zishu’s hold keeping him pinned to the shelf.

“You didn’t have to follow me here!”

Wen Kexing does fight back a bit then, just a savage jerk of one arm that frees it from Zhou Zishu’s grip so he can reach up to curl his fingers into a fist in the front of his robes for the purpose of jostling him, as if shaking him will help him understand as he shouts, “After all this anger over my plans to save you, you have the nerve to also be angry that I didn’t stay put when you left me behind to go die anyway?!”

Zhou Zishu is the one to bare his teeth next, but Wen Kexing takes advantage of his moment of trying to formulate a reply to flip their positions so quickly Zhou Zishu nearly becomes dizzy even before his back is slammed against the shelf and Wen Kexing’s forearm presses against his throat.

“After everything we’ve done, everything we had just lost, you left me,” Wen Kexing says next, no longer shouting but the faint glitter of tears in his eyes and clumping his lashes together is somehow more cutting than if he were. “If you die I die, how dare you take my choices away from me!”

“Your choices?!” Zhou Zishu bites back, finding his metaphorical feet again even as he has to go up on his toes a bit to accommodate the way Wen Kexing is pressing him higher with the arm on his throat. “Your choices are why I was dying so quickly in the first place! I was going to be healed, Da Wu was going to fix everything but your plan that included everyone but me forced my hand! Why would I continue living without you after watching you die? How could you not have known I would try to follow you even after Ye-qianbei stopped me from jumping with you?!”

“How could you throw your life away so quickly?!”

“There is no me without you!”

Zhou Zishu’s shout rings off the stone around them. Wen Kexing slowly releases the pressure on his throat as the reverb of it fades into nothing but silence again broken only by their breaths, too fast and out of sync. But they’re both here. They’re both breathing. They’re glaring daggers at each other, but they’re both here.

“A day without you, a week, a year, an eternity? I don’t want any of it,” Zhou Zishu continues eventually, voice low and fervent. “Of course I tried to follow you. What else would you expect me to do?”

“And then at the last, you turned around and abandoned me. Are you really such a hypocrite, Ah-Xu?”

Zhou Zishu doesn’t refute that, though he can’t quite help but grind his teeth and curl his hand still holding one of Wen Kexing’s wrists a little tighter.

He is, abruptly, exhausted. Perhaps it’s the sleepless nights of relieving Wen Kexing’s ‘deaths’ from every angle. Perhaps it’s the stress of having kept all of this tucked close to his chest since the moment Wen Kexing returned during the second heroes’ conference. Perhaps it’s the way the fight leaves Wen Kexing’s eyes as quickly as it had appeared. Perhaps it’s none of these things, or all of them, but whatever the reason, the thought of somehow keeping score for the next however many years they live, of holding onto resentments and bitterness and playing a constant game of who-owes-whom makes him so tired.

Zhou Zishu tips his head back to rest against the shelf at his back, baring his throat (perhaps unwisely, when Wen Kexing is still so angry at him) and closing his eyes against the sight of the filtered moonlight overhead.

“We can’t keep living like this,” he mutters and he feels Wen Kexing’s body go stiff against his where they’re pressed together practically from chest to ankle.

“Like what? Don’t tell me you regret this already, Ah-Xu. It’s not even spring yet, you have to at least wait for the thaw before you can decide to leave me behind again.”

“Lao Wen!” he protests sharply with a jostle of Wen Kexing’s arm in his grip. “Like this, angry with each other for things that we’ve done because we don’t know how to live for each other. This is getting us nowhere.”

Wen Kexing takes a long, slow breath in and Zhou Zishu is about to drop his head again to look at him when he’s abruptly stopped in his tracks by the feeling of teeth on his neck, too sharp and insistent to be comfortable. He gasps and can’t help but jerk a bit in Wen Kexing’s grip, a frisson of heat slinking down his spine and out towards his fingertips as he follows it with a soothing but possessive pass of the flat of his tongue, hot and wet against his skin.

“Lao Wen?” he manages to gasp around the too-intense pressure of Wen Kexing’s teeth around a different section of his throat, more sensitive than the last - so sensitive his knees nearly threaten to buckle, though that may also be because Wen Kexing chooses that moment to dart a clever hand between the drape of his robes to grab him through his trousers. There’s nothing gentle in the gesture, it’s hard and possessive. Painful.

They haven’t been intimate since Wen Kexing had finally regained consciousness. Between adjusting to their new reality, Wen Kexing finally having an opportunity to begin grieving for Gu Xiang, and Zhou Zishu working to build them something of a permanent living space in the armory, and with an as-of-yet undefined eternity stretching on before them, they’d just...settled. Tried to relax and let time pass as it would now that it’s no longer their master.

Zhou Zishu realizes belatedly that he should have anticipated that it would feel different with the return of his senses, but he is somehow still blindsided by the shock of it, crystal clear and overwhelming. He can feel Wen Kexing’s too-quick exhales against his freshly bruised skin, hot and damp in the chill of their new home. His hand is painfully tight between his legs and Zhou Zishu gasps again as his grip tightens even further, bucking his hips back to try to escape Wen Kexing’s groping but there’s nowhere for him to go. He bites down again and Zhou Zishu swears he can feel every single one of his teeth - no longer just the muted sensation of more pointed pressure than his hands could provide, now he can feel his skin protesting the sharp crush of capillaries, red bruises blooming like aching flowers under his lover’s mouth.

“If you want to be angry then be angry,” Wen Kexing growls into the point of his collarbone, and the bite he leaves there has Zhou Zishu’s back arching without his permission though he at least manages to keep a pathetic whimper locked in his throat. “You’re not getting rid of me so easily.”

Under such an onslaught, it doesn’t take long at all for Zhou Zishu to find his temper again. Wen Kexing is harsh and cruel with him, offering no reprieves or mercy as he takes what he wants. Zhou Zishu has absolutely no qualms about giving him the same in return, digging in with his nails until he pierces his skin, and only then does he scratch up his back and leave bloody furrows in his wake. He bites whatever part of Wen Kexing he can get his mouth on, and finally when Wen Kexing is ever-so-slightly distracted with gathering all of Zhou Zishu’s hair into one hand to yank on it, Zhou Zishu manages to get his ankle hooked behind Wen Kexing’s to kick his leg out from under him. Paired with a shove of the hand he has bunched up in the front of Wen Kexing’s robes, it’s a perfect move to unbalance him and send the pair of them tumbling to the hard ground.

Zhou Zishu doesn’t bother feeling guilty for cushioning his own fall with Wen Kexing’s body, he just sets about continuing what they’d started with a sort of hunger that startles even him, but that Wen Kexing seems to take in stride. He had started this, after all, it shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise that he’s prepared to see it through to the end no matter how rough it should get.

It’s a messy thing, quick and aggressive with absolutely none of the finesse they’ve managed to find together in all the times they’ve done this before. By the time they’ve finished, Wen Kexing’s bared torso is a mess of blood and come - from both of them. Zhou Zishu brushes the back of his hand against the swollen curve of his bottom lip without any regard for the flare of aching, burning pain he finds there where Wen Kexing has bitten him bloody.

“You got hard,” Wen Kexing finally mumbles through bright red lips. Zhou Zishu can see that his teeth are pink as he speaks and he wonders if it should worry him that that feels right. What he had actually said filters through the haze a moment after and he huffs a humorless laugh as he shakes his head a bit and leans back on his heels where he’s straddling Wen Kexing. The motion grinds his ass down against his softening cock and Wen Kexing hisses a little, shuffles his feet like he’s going to try to get away though he settles again after a moment, allowing the overstimulating pressure.

“Philanthropist Wen so kindly traded his life so that I could have all my senses restored,” Zhou Zishu retorts as he crosses his arms over his chest and grinds himself down more purposefully into Wen Kexing’s lap until the man’s back arches and his hands fly down to grip his hips tight enough to bruise there too.

“A fair trade,” Wen Kexing mumbles, still staring at him in bleary wonder. Well, not at him. At his cock, which hasn’t even managed to go entirely soft. How can it, when he can finally feel Wen Kexing’s hands on him properly? When every place their bodies are touching feels like the spark of a struck match?

“And if I hadn’t found a way to pass the qi back to you such a ‘gift’ would be absolutely wasted on me living here alone!”

“You’re still angry after that?”

Zhou Zishu doesn’t even deign to respond to that with words, rather he just grinds his hips again and Wen Kexing chokes on some sort of wounded noise that ends with a whimper. His teeth are no longer bloody though he certainly looks worse for wear, his lips still red even where Zhou Zishu hadn’t split his bottom lip straight down the middle with a particularly vicious bite. There are bruises already blooming dark and possessive all over his chest and shoulders, the imprints of Zhou Zishu’s teeth stark on the pale canvas of his skin. His silver hair is a tangled mess underneath him, his robes equally dishevelled where they had been shoved aside to give Zhou Zishu room to work. As he watches, Wen Kexing releases his hip to drag one elegant hand up his own stomach, his long fingers smearing through the mix of blood and spend to swirl them together before he continues his dragging touch. He smears the mix up his own chest and then pops his fingers in his mouth as he looks up again to meet Zhou Zishu’s gaze.

“In that case, you can have me like that again, if you’d like,” Wen Kexing mumbles as he withdraws his fingers, seemingly uncaring of the mess he’s making of himself as he reaches down to scoop more of their come onto his fingers. Zhou Zishu reaches out to stop him with a hand tight around his wrist.

“Hurting you isn’t going to make me less angry about what you did.”

“Nor I, but it’s nice to get the energy out anyway.”

Zhou Zishu licks at a trickle of blood he can feel beginning to weep from his own split lip and Wen Kexing tracks the movement as if mesmerized by the briefest glimpse of his tongue. Zhou Zishu releases his wrist then and he expects Wen Kexing to return to his task of licking his fingers clean, but instead he drops his hand down again, this time to press his whole palm to the mess on his abs. Before Zhou Zishu can wonder what his fascination with it is, Wen Kexing is wrapping his slicked hand around his cock - and he goes properly hard again so quickly his head spins.

“Oh,” Wen Kexing says softly, eyes wide, as he strokes him just once and Zhou Zishu can’t help but shudder with a punched out little noise that he’s too late to stop. He squeezes his eyes shut and leans forward until he can rest his weight on one hand pressed to the floor next to Wen Kexing’s shoulder, his lips parted as he suddenly struggles to catch his breath. “Oh Ah-Xu, our first time when you can feel me properly shouldn’t have hurt you so much.”

“It’s only fitting that it should be too much,” Zhou Zishu manages to grind out. He opens his eyes to find Wen Kexing looking anxiously back and forth between them, his eyebrows drawn up in open concern, so different from the furious hunger of just a few minutes ago. “Too much - and not enough. Try again.”

“Mn?”

“Hurt me again.”

“Ah-Xu -”

Zhou Zishu catches Wen Kexing’s chin in his free hand, harsh and unforgiving. “Again, Lao Wen. You think I’ve been waiting for you to wake up all this time just for you to be afraid to touch me? Make me forget what it was like to feel you dead in my arms.”

That seems to do the trick. Wen Kexing’s eyes flash and Zhou Zishu isn’t even startled to find their positions reversed; the only concession for the stone floor that Wen Kexing gives him is a hand behind his head to keep him from hitting it too hard as he’s thrown down on his back - other than that he’s just as harsh as he was before. They’re already ragged and bloodied, it doesn’t take nearly as much effort the second time for Zhou Zishu to lose himself in the ache of Wen Kexing pressing on his new bruises, biting even fresher ones next to them.

He gasps and exhales a moan that echoes off the stone around them as Wen Kexing bites his neck hard enough to draw blood there too at the same moment he slides two spit- and come-slick fingers inside his body with absolutely no mercy. It hurts, but his Lao Wen and so he doesn’t complain. He’ll never complain as long as it’s Wen Kexing who’s the one bearing down on him, pressing into him, working him as expertly as ever even though so much internal attention isn’t necessary now that he can finally get hard again. It doesn’t seem to matter what he needs or doesn't - his entire being belongs to the man on top of him and he knows that Wen Kexing enjoys reminding him of that.

The only reason the second round lasts anywhere close to the same length of time as the first is because this time Wen Kexing forces him to wait every time he trembles close to the edge of orgasm, until by the time he finally allows it Zhou Zishu is so overstimulated it hurts as much as it pleasures.

“Enough,” Wen Kexing pants when he’s finished and they’re now both sporting the same messes on their chests. “Enough Ah-Xu, no more angry sex tonight. Alright?”

“Fine,” Zhou Zishu pants as he stares unseeingly up at the ceiling. “Tomorrow, then.”

“No.” Zhou Zishu closes his eyes as Wen Kexing starts stroking his cheek with his hand that’s still relatively clean, but he frowns when he feels the now-familiar sensation of shared qi flood through his meridians.

“What are you doing?”

“We’ll heal faster if we share it.”

Zhou Zishu darts his hand up to grab Wen Kexing’s wrist to force his hand away from his face and he opens his eyes with an effort to meet Wen Kexing’s confused gaze.

“Leave it.”

“Ah-Xu?”

“Penance.”

Wen Kexing blinks at him for a long moment and then the last of the fight truly drains out of him as he hangs his head, his hair sliding over one shoulder to hang between them and the rest of the room. In the moonlight backlighting it it almost seems to glow and Zhou Zishu’s breath hitches in his chest as he looks at it, this reminder of how much Wen Kexing had tried to give up. For him. He had never asked so many people to want to die for him. All he had ever wanted was the people he cared about to live, why were they all so determined to leave him behind anyway?

“Come back to bed,” Wen Kexing says and Zhou Zishu can hear the tears thick in his voice though he can’t see his face. “Please.”

Maneuvering up off the floor and righting their robes at least enough to make the chilly walk more bearable takes a surprisingly long time, but thankfully Wen Kexing had kept track of where he was going as he had followed Zhou Zishu through the armory and so he just has to follow behind him as they return quickly enough to their ‘bedroom’, for lack of anything better to call it. As they walk, his own anger ebbs back out of him, as it always does, to be replaced with a soul-deep grief. His anger is really only a poor cover for that lurking sorrow anyway, and it consumes too much energy to maintain the front for too long. By the time Wen Kexing is helping him out of his outer robes and nudging him in the direction of their bed he feels so weighed down by the ghosts of his mistakes that all he can do is obey and sit heavily on the edge of it.

“ ‘Penance’,” Wen Kexing muses with dark humor as he returns Zhou Zishu’s robes to their spot and begins to strip out of his own. “Are we not already paying penance having to spend the rest of our lives in the cold? Away from Chengling and Four Seasons Manor? It’s a price I’m willing to pay a thousand times over in order to live this life with you, but it is still a sacrifice. Don’t you think that’s penance enough?”

Zhou Zishu doesn’t even bother looking up from his hands between his knees as Wen Kexing talks to him, only raising his eyes with a sharp inhale through his nose when the other man comes to kneel in front of him, though he can still only stand to look around the vicinity of his chin.

“Ah-Xu. What are you punishing yourself for?”

“You have to ask?”

“I do. We’ve already forgiven each other for the lies we told, you don’t fool me. What are you really angry about?”

“I’m not trying to fool you, I am angry that you lied to me.”

“And you have lied to me. We’re even as far as I’m concerned, and I think it would be useless to keep score from here on out. What are petty disagreements to immortal lovers, hm?”

Zhou Zishu finally lifts his gaze the rest of the way with an effort to look Wen Kexing in the eyes. They still manage to shine somehow even in the dim light of the candles guttering in the corners of the room, and Zhou Zishu can’t quite resist reaching out to hold his face with both hands. Hands that can now feel how soft his skin is, how warm. He strokes his thumb slowly along the plush curve of his bitten bottom lip and the softness of it, the easy give of it beneath his touch, have him aching to bite him again. Again and again and again until he no longer feels quite so hungry for him, so desperate.

“Ah-Xu,” Wen Kexing murmurs seemingly for no reason other than to call for him. Zhou Zishu lets his thumb move with his lips as he does so, the drag of the warm, damp skin against his fingertip a concrete reminder that he hasn’t lost Wen Kexing. He’s here, alive and breathing and determined to live for the rest of their forever at his side.

“I want to stop seeing you dead,” he confesses, much less angrily this time than the first as he allows his grief and fear to take their rightful place at center stage. “I want to but I can’t. You were so cold, Lao Wen, the first thing I felt was you so cold-“

Wen Kexing’s brows knit together as he turns his head just enough to press ardent kisses to his palm, his long fingers curling around Zhou Zishu’s wrist to hold his hand still for it.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes and Zhou Zishu’s breath hitches in his throat. “I’m sorry, Ah-Xu.”

Zhou Zishu coaxes Wen Kexing into turning his head forward again with a press of his palm to his cheek only to meet him more than halfway in a kiss that’s messy and clumsy and perfect in every way he needs it to be. Wen Kexing surges up to deepen it, to loom over him and then press him back insistently with his whole body as he climbs onto the bed first to straddle him and then to lay him down, kissing kissing kissing all the while.

Even in what Zhou Zishu has come to think of as his ‘first’ life - his life before Wen Kexing - he doesn’t think anyone’s touch ever affected him as much as Wen Kexing’s does now. His hands, though they’re cool simply by virtue of where they live, feel like branding irons as they skim down his chest and arms, dragging his dishevelled sleeping robe off in their wake. He shivers in the chill of the cave as the cold air meets his flushed skin and even that, somehow, adds to the overwhelming flood of sensations from Wen Kexing’s hands alone.

“I’ll make you forget it all,” Wen Kexing promises as he drags those burning hands up to grip the sides of his neck, press his thumbs under his jaw to coax him into tipping his head back so he can kiss the bruises he’d left. “I’ll make you forget everything but me right here with you like this. Alright?”

“Alright,” Zhou Zishu breathes, at a loss for anything else to say. Why shouldn’t he agree? It’s impossible for him to forget it all but he’d like to try, and Wen Kexing has made so many impossible things happen already. Maybe this one is in his power as well.

He lets himself get lost in the way each kiss and caress feels brand new, and so quickly it could almost be embarrassing he feels his cock growing stiff again, his entire body reacting to each brush of fingertips or soft hair or lips against his skin like it’s the first time he’s ever felt such a thing. It’s the first time he’s ever properly felt Wen Kexing, at least, and he can’t help but think that that’s good enough; his first time feeling his zhiji’s touch the way it’s meant to be felt. If this is what he’s felt every time Zhou Zishu touches him then it’s no wonder Wen Kexing has so often begged and coaxed him to go just once more, to kiss for just a little longer, not to separate yet if they don’t have to. Not that Zhou Zishu hadn’t understood the desire to be close before, of course he has, but this really elevates things to a new height he had been incapable of even imagining.

Zhou Zishu sees stars the moment Wen Kexing leans in to take him into his mouth. He doesn’t come but it’s an extremely close thing, and there’s no stopping himself from whimpering and shifting restlessly as he tries to chase the pleasure Wen Kexing is offering him. He’s stopped by Wen Kexing’s wide hands heavy on his hips pressing him down into the bed and keeping him still so he can focus on working himself down the length of him painfully slowly. There have been times, usually in the afterglow of particularly good orgasms, when Wen Kexing has told him that if he could use all his best tricks then Zhou Zishu wouldn’t stand a chance against him, and Zhou Zishu has always scoffed, never believed such assertions could be anything but empty bragging. He should really know by now that Wen Kexing doesn’t brag without reason - if he says he can kill someone then he will. If he claims he can exact a fitting revenge against the world that wronged him, then he will. And now Zhou Zishu knows intimately that when Wen Kexing has said that he knows precisely how he wants to rip Zhou Zishu apart, he has meant every word.

He feels like he’s being slowly flayed apart, seen and known at every level of his being solely so that Wen Kexing can understand best how to destroy all of his defenses. Not that he should be surprised, of course - this is hardly the first time Zhou Zishu had thought he was fine only to suddenly find that his walls have been smashed to rubble and Wen Kexing is standing too close to him in the aftermath of it, smirking at him and leaning in to say something filthy in his ear to make him blush and snap at him even as he tries to pull him closer.

Zhou Zishu comes for the third time that night with his hands in Wen Kexing’s hair and his legs wrapped haphazardly around his ribcage, head thrown back and throat tight around a strangled moan that ends on something that sounds suspiciously like a sob.

Wen Kexing gives him absolutely no time to recover. He keeps his mouth on him until it turns genuinely unbearable and then he’s back, kissing him like he’ll die if he doesn’t taste every inch of his mouth at that very moment and slamming home inside of him between one breath and the next. Zhou Zishu doesn’t bother trying to restrain the pained noise that escapes him at the intrusion but Wen Kexing ignores it, instead just setting up a punishing rhythm that leaves Zhou Zishu no time at all to try to come down from his third orgasm before arousal builds in him again.

Wen Kexing is an absolute monster, and Zhou Zishu loves him so much it’s a physical ache in his chest. And there, at last, is the root of his anger. Wen Kexing makes him hurt so much, it’s only natural for him to want to protect himself from it, to put distance between them with frustration and bluster, to keep the unbearable ache of such consuming love from taking him over completely. It’s been necessary, until now, to maintain that distance even after they were in agreement that they were all either of them needs in this world. The fact then had been that Zhou Zishu was going to die and leave Wen Kexing behind to mourn him, a fact they had frequently done their best to ignore but at least Zhou Zishu had never managed it, and he was fairly sure Wen Kexing never had either. He’d spent so much time expressing concern for Zhou Zishu and his injuries, it stands to reason that he’d spent even more time thinking about them than talking about them, and any time the barest whisper of a possible cure had reached their ears Wen Kexing had always pounced on it like a street cat, vicious and single-minded as he’d dug in with his claws to drag out any information he possibly could.

Zhou Zishu’s fourth orgasm of the night leaves him feeling hollow and satisfied, finally, even as Wen Kexing spills inside of him, fills him up. As they share hot, too-heavy breaths in the aftermath, as Wen Kexing presses wet kisses to his lips and cheeks and jaw, as Wen Kexing settles his weight over him and slides a hand up into his hair to cradle him and hold him close, Zhou Zishu releases the anger that’s nothing but a smokescreen for the ache of loving too fiercely for his heart to contain it all.

“I love you,” he says into the intimate silence but for the rhythms of their living and breathing and the soft rustle of skin and cloth rubbing together as Wen Kexing readjusts his legs and attempts to get comfortable on top of him. “That’s what I’m angry about. I love you.”

“Reasonable,” Wen Kexing mumbles muzzily into his shoulder with a lazy kiss. “Will you elaborate or am I meant to just understand why loving me should make you so upset?”

“You expect me to believe that you don’t love me so much it somehow becomes other emotions as well just so your heart can contain it all?”

Wen Kexing is silent for a few long moments as their breathing slows in tandem, fingertips tracing slow, gentle circles around the ball of his shoulder as he turns his head a bit and shifts a few times until he’s settled even more comfortably.

“Ah..Perhaps I do understand, then,” he finally murmurs, and Zhou Zishu can hear a faint smile in his voice. “Is that what you’re seeking penance for? Loving me?”

“Maybe. Or maybe for everything else I’ve done before you. Maybe I have to pay for it to deserve being able to keep you until we get tired of this life and decide we’d like to end it.”

“Ah-Xu,” Wen Kexing tuts and he’s definitely smiling now. “You’ve said it yourself that if a man sets aside his weapons he’ll become good. I don’t believe you need to punish yourself like this. You don’t need to find a replacement for the pain of the Nails just because you’ve survived your torment.”

Zhou Zishu’s breath catches in his chest and he tips his head enough to try to look down at Wen Kexing. One of his eyes is visible at this angle and Zhou Zishu is unsurprised to find his gaze full of a quiet understanding.

“That’s...hm. Alright. I suppose it’s useless to argue that, I’m sure you already know exactly how to win against me.”

“Of course I do,” Wen Kexing replies with a tired chuckle. “But there’s also no point in arguing it simply because I’m right, and as I said before - what use is there in keeping score? Time and debts and the measure of good and evil are nothing to us anymore. We’ll do as much good as we can from here, and when we’re ready we’ll re-enter the world and continue to do good there until we die together. The past doesn’t concern us anymore.”

Zhou Zishu hums softly and finally finds the energy to raise one hand to begin combing his fingers through the snarled mess of Wen Kexing’s hair, keeping his touch light even when he encounters snags and knots. Wen Kexing melts into him as he works and when he starts breathing deeply, the rhythm regular, Zhou Zishu doesn’t bother resisting the desire to turn his head and press a long, slow kiss to his forehead. He lifts his free hand to curl his fingers around Wen Kexing’s wrist and, as has become a habit that’s as natural as breathing, he lets their energy circulate together, fitting himself easily into the familiar paths of his love’s qi and speeding up the healing process as much as he can, for both of their sakes, as the love of his life sleeps comfortably in his arms.

[trollartistry]

“Jaws of the Gator” - What If?

I wasn’t planning on posting this here HOWEVER @jelly-belly-fish herself loved this snippet I wrote and wanted me to post it so here we go.

This is a ‘what if’ based on her drabble, where my AU Killersona is involved.

TW: This contains quite a bit of swearing and a hint of mind-control at the end.

“Good…” Freddy whispered in pain, “he…made it..out..”

Glamrock Freddy mustered up the ability to look up to the upper fake gums of the mouth. He closed his eyes in thought.

“I’m sorry, little one…” he groaned, “I’m sorry I can’t be there for you for the rest of the night…but…the show is over for me..”

And with that, Freddy only waited for the jaws of Monty to fulling close on him.

"Move it, brat." That voice- the one that belonged to a bulky man with a jackalope mask, one that had been hunting Gregory just like Vanny was. Freddy gave a squirm under the force, his already-cracking joints somehow still able to hold himself now that he knew Gregory still wasn't safe.

"RUN, GREGORY!" He yelled through the pain. He tried to push himself up, to fight back against the maw crushing him, yet the force was too great for him to properly get off of his hands.

He watched as a paw-like boot suddenly stomped onto the bottom jaw as two gloved hands grabbed between sharp teeth above, and he heard a great grunt from the other side. Whether it was thanks to Freddy's own pushing or adrenaline giving him freakish strength, the man was able to force those jaws open just a few inches more. He leaned down and Freddy expected the freakishly yellow eyes of a mask glaring him down- not piercing green filled with determination and.. worry?

He didn't have time to think on it- the man's next move was to force himself in, adult-sized golf club in hand. The sociopath stabbed the club upwards into the roof of the fake maw, forcefully opening it further with the club until the object acted as a support beam, giving Freddy just enough room to wiggle free on his own- if he had been given the chance.

"C'mere!!" The man reached forward suddenly, roughly grabbing Freddy by his cracked chest piece and gave a yank. Either he didn't care if his actions caused more damage to Freddy's shell, or he was too worried to realize it.

With a great tug the two stumbled out of the maw, Freddy being dropped onto the ramp next to Gregory as the man stumbled back a few feet, a few cuts along the fabric of his suit and revealing some cuts thanks to the sharp teeth. He panted heavily, watching as that club in the mouth shook and bent, before it snapped and the sound of massive jaws clamping shut rumbled through the area, eyes glowing red.

"We had a DEAL!!" The man roared into the air, to whoever was still listening. Gregory ran to Freddy's side, both to check up on his guardian and to tuck close in fear as this was one of the killers that was actively with him. "I help you get the kid, and the bear goes unharmed!! You BROKE that deal Monty, and you're gonna pay for it!!"

"F-Freddy-" He began and Freddy hushed him softly, holding him close as he stared at the man. It was the first time he saw him maskless- the long brunette hair in the front covered a bit of the mans face, but he could still see those eyes, now full of rage. If Freddy was supposed to go unharmed, what for?

It was silent after the man's threat, before the eyes on the giant gator head returned to normal and slowly the jaw opened again back into its horrifying smile. He turned to the two, Gregory flinching back and Freddy giving a soft glare.

"What, no thank you?" The man sneered softly, as if he had done them both a massive favor. Well, he kinda did. But it was.. almost hypocritical considering the man was supposed to be out for Gregory. Freddy steeled himself, curious thoughts hushing for a moment as he stood and nudged Gregory behind him.

"You had a perfect opportunity to snatch Gregory up and leave me to get crushed. Why did you save me?" He asked, and the man looked caught in the headlights. His threatening demeanor dissolved into one that reminded Freddy of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, before he scowled at the bear.

"None of your fucking business, teddybear." He snarled, clenching his fists angrily. He stepped away to the nearby bushes where his mask was, speaking as he did, "In any case, you need to get out of here before Monty- the real Monty and not his ugly ass face, comes looking for you two. Door to the left is broke open- you're welcome for that."

Freddy and Gregory shared an unsure glance, the bear especially suspicious of this whole thing. He glared at the back of his supposed savior with a growl, "And why should I trust that nobody is over there waiting to ambush us?"

"Do you want to keep playing this stupid game?" The man looked over his shoulder with a scowl, "I get you and the kid got some daddy-son shit going on and you wanna entertain the little brat but his safety should be your number one priority."

"I-" Freddy felt his servos whir a little faster as he would blush if he could, having been called out for how he treated Gregory so nicely. His reply to the man though was interrupted though- the moment that gloved hand scooped up that terrifying mask, he suddenly dropped to his knees with a loud scream of agony.

Gloved hands grabbed into a messy nest of brown hair as the man screamed, pulling as if he dislodged locks of hair it would stop the pain piercing through his skull. Freddy grabbed Gregory up, the boy latching on in fear as they watched him hunch over.

"N-Nnoo.. get.. out of my h-head..!" The man groaned, clenching his teeth as he glanced to the pair. Freddy could see the sheer fear there, either for them or himself the bot wasn't sure.

"GO!! Before- he makes me.. ghhh..!" The man hunched over again. Freddy wanted to come closer, see if there was anything he could do- before he saw the shine of a blade under the same bush the mask rested on, and the man had a hand inching closer.

As much as it hurt to leave someone in need, Freddy fled. He held Gregory close as he ran, finding the open door and running through as the man told him to. Behind them, cries of pain turned into manic laughter, as control over him was regained..

[yoonsshadow]

BLIZZARD BLUES ⎯ myg

⇰ summary ; There’s a storm coming. Literally. And some idiot is standing outside singing Christmas carols.

⇰ pairing ; yoongi x fem!reader

⇰ genres ; strangers to friends to lovers[?], snowstorm!au, romance, fast burn [?]

⇰ themes ; fluff, a bit of crack

⇰ warnings ; talk of a natural disaster [blizzard], lots of banter, brief talk of male genitalia [balls lol], a bunch of sweetness

⇰ word count ; 1.8k

⇰ note ; Happy holidays everybody!! I hope that you all have a safe and happy day, no matter what you are celebrating. [Also this is largely unedited.] xx

It doesn’t always snow on Christmas Eve. Sometimes, when the sky feels selfish, it will open its clouds and welcome through the sunlight, especially harsh against the previous snowfall that is melting on the ground. What was once a white wonderland, snowflakes clustered together in a fine powder, becomes a muddy expanse of grass, dampened by the flowing tears of the melted icicles.

The magic of Christmas, so often associated with the pure white sheen of snowfall, is gone within hours of a clear sky.

But not today.

Today, the sky is selfish in a very distinctly opposite way.

“Temperatures will be reaching a record-low tonight, and snowfall is expected to only get heavier. With the possibility of a blizzard on the way, citizens are urged to stay indoors tonight.”

“Aish.” Licking droplets of mulled wine from your lips, you sigh at the latest news update. Just yesterday, you had been complaining of the warmth in the air, expecting yet another disappointment out of Christmas Eve. The universe seems to have answered your pessimism with a natural disaster.

Thankfully, you are one of the many lucky ones with a roof over your head tonight. The townhouse is small by standard means, but it feels so big to you. Though it may be cosy, it holds everything that is important to you, every memory that you have collected over your life, every momentum that has ever brought you joy. It is an extension of yourself, of your innermost being, and now it even protects you from the howling wind that you can hear picking up outside.

As you sit in front of your roaring fireplace, wrapped in blankets and listening to the Michael Bublé christmas album play on your scratchy record player, you think that maybe this is serenity; this feeling of calm, of contentment, when chaos surrounds you.

A harsh knock at your front door breaks through the sound of the wind.

At first, you think that maybe it was a trick of the mind, or perhaps a branch hitting a window, but the rapid knock-knock-knock against the wood is far too deliberate to be a mistake. Plus, when it��s followed by several more⎯⎯less patient⎯⎯knocks, you know that someone is here. At your house. At ten o’clock at night, as a blizzard is brewing.

It takes a moment to detangle yourself from your comfortable cocoon of blankets, but you eventually shuffle to the door as quickly as your cold toes [the things just never seem to be warm] will allow. You’re expecting an emergency official telling you to evacuate, or a neighbour asking to borrow supplies.

You don’t expect a shivering, disgruntled man reluctantly singing ‘Oh Christmas Tree’.

“Your boughs so green in summertime...stay bravely green in wintertime...O tannenbaum, O Christmas Tree...How lovely are thy branches…”

“Are you seriously carolling right now?”

The man stops his ‘singing’ to glare at you, as if you’ve just interrupted the most important performance of his life. “Hey, either let me finish the song or let me move on. It’s fucking cold out here.”

“No, but like, why are you singing at all? Didn’t you see the news?” The chill of the wind is biting at you even through all of your layers, so you don’t know how he’s surviving right now.

The man sighs, the air fogging in front of his face. “Look, lady, I lost a bet, okay? I gotta sing these carols, and I’m not backing out just because it feels like my internal organs are shutting down. So, what’ll it be? I can take song requests, if you’re feeling spicy.”

It takes you barely a moment to make your decision. “Option C. Come here.”

And you all but drag him into your house.

“Y’know, this could be considered kidnapping,” the stranger says as he slides out of his soaked jacket and toes off his boots. Despite his words, he doesn’t seem at all reluctant to be within your warm abode. “You could at least take me to dinner before inviting me in.’

His voice sounds harsh, mean even, but for some reason you aren’t intimidated by him. Maybe it’s the way his nose shines pink from the cold.

“Well,” you say, already gathering some towels for him, “it seems as though you haven’t watched the news in the last three hours. There’s a blizzard on the way, buddy, and you looked about halfway to frozen already. I thought that I would save the neighbours the trauma of digging your body out of the snow.”

“How considerate.”

“What’s your name, by the way? Since I’m extending my home and hospitality to you. I’m Y/N.”

“Yoongi. Also, you barely extended anything. More like forced. But, I’m a kind man, so I’ll let you believe that you’re being selfless. It is Christmas, after all.”

“And a merry Christmas to you too, mister Yoongi.”

“Ugh. Don’t call me mister.”

“Whatever. You should go take a shower to warm up, I should have some of my dad’s clothes for you to wear. I also have a shit-tonne of blankets and a big pot of mulled wine, so whenever you’re done just come downstairs and sit by the fire. And don’t steal anything. Or piss on the carpets.”

“Oddly specific, but okay. Thanks, generous kidnapper.”

Yoongi takes nearly an hour before he re-emerges from upstairs, to the point where you wonder if he’s actually pissing in your carpets. He looks clean, though, and flushed with warmth. And absolutely adorable in the ugly, oversized Christmas sweater that you laid out for him.

“This is fucking horrendous.”

A snort escapes you at his blunt statement, watching as he sinks into an armchair opposite you. His hair is sticking out from where he’s hastily dried it. “Thank you. My dad is the reigning champion in his workplace ugly sweater competition. He takes immense pride in inducing nausea. Want some wine?”

“Absolutely.”

When you pass him a mug, the liquid steaming and aromatic, he seems to pause, hesitation in the grip of his fingers. You give him the time he needs to arrange his words.

“I guess, um...thank you. For bringing me inside.” Yoongi isn’t meeting your eyes, but the tips of his ears are turning pink. “I was probably too stubborn to realise how bad it was and...I don’t know, it could’ve ended up really bad. So. Thanks.”

“Hey.” His eyes flicker up, briefly, but enough to see the bashfulness hiding behind all that sarcasm. “It’s seriously fine, but you’ve got to make a habit out of taking care of yourself. I’ve known you for two hours and even I can tell that you don’t take yourself very seriously. Hell, I could’ve been a serial killer, and you still just walked into my house.”

“I could’ve been a serial killer as well, hypocrite.”

“Killer Caroller does have a certain ring to it,” you admit. He’s deflecting, but you accept the divergence easily. “So, mister serial killer-”

“Don’t call me mister.”

“-Why don’t you tell me about yourself? There’s a chance that you’ll be here for a little while, so we may as well become acquainted.”

Taking a lingering sip from his mug, Yoongi keeps his eyes trained on the fire before him. “My name is Yoongi, I’m a Pisces, and I enjoy long walks on the beach.”

“Romantic.”

“I was born in Daegu.”

“Makes sense.”

“I’m a music producer.”

“Impressive.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, though they hold more mirth than annoyance. “Oh, and what about you, miss charity? Tell me about yourself.”

Biting back a chuckle, you reposition yourself in the armchair to face him better. “Well, my name is Y/N, and I have never been to a beach.”

“That’s sad.”

“I take self-defense classes.”

“Convenient.”

“And I’m a social worker.”

“Very fitting.”

The quick banter between the two of you pulls a smile across your face before you can tamp it down, but it seems like Yoongi is fighting one of his own.

Somehow, you have both converged to your larger couch, huddled together in a wine-drunk, giggly mess.

“No, I seriously would’ve won! But then he totally caught me off guard. I was sabotaged.”

Yoongi’s recounting of the story of how he lost his bet is nothing short of hysterical. “This Jeongguk guy sounds like a menace,” you say, throwing your legs over his lap. “I mean, who swings their balls in a friend’s face just to distract them? That’s just low.”

“Right?!” His voice is so loud, but your little bubble is barely disturbed. “And they were all hairy, too. I swear that I found a pube in my hoodie.”

This sets you off, for some reason, and your chest erupts in light giggles. Yoongi has only told you a few stories about his six male friends, and it has filled you with a kind of joy that you don’t remember ever feeling.

“It’s just...I bet that women aren’t this immature with each other. Am I right?”

You hum. “Sort of, but also not really. A friend of mine once stole my diva cup just because she was mad at me for using her hair brush. I tried to explain that it was an accident, but man was she pissed.”

Yoongi pauses. “What’s a diva cup?”

Blinking at the man that you’re draped across, you bring a hand up to pat his soft cheek. “Oh, honey,” you whisper, offering a small smile.

Slowly but suddenly, his hand comes up to cover yours, keeping it on his face. Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t notice.

“You’re really nice,” he says. His pupils are blown from drinking, and maybe from your faces being so close. Your cheeks are flushed for the same reasons. “And totally not a serial killer.”

“I’m still undecided about you,” you joke, breathing out a laugh. “But I do know that you’re pretty nice, too. And not as bad of a guest as I thought you might be.”

“Is it-” Yoongi cuts himself off, takes a slow breath as he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he seems determined, if a little nervous. “Is it weird if I say that I enjoy spending time with you? And would, maybe, want to spend more time with you in the future?”

A lazy grin stretches your cheeks as you tuck yourself a little closer to him. It’s peculiar, maybe, that you’ve just met a man that you feel you’ve known your whole life. Curious, perhaps, that conversation with him feels more natural than with most people you know.

But weird?

No, you don’t think so.

“No. Not weird.” You lean forward a bit, shyly; wait for him to maybe do the same. “You do owe me the rest of a Christmas carol, after all.

He does lean forward, just a bit, and just as shy.

[feckin-zicons]

that's why i hate larries, i hate them with all my heart. besides being boring they are hypocrites 🙄

Hey nonnie, sorry its taken me so long to reply but if you’re following me you know I’ve been travelling lately and have been more scatterbrained than usual. Not that I’m ever not scatterbrained, but its been just a little crazier than usual!

Now I wouldn’t go as far to say I hate Larries. After all their delusions can be pretty funny sometimes!

Joking aside, I don’t hate Larries, I love Larries, I’m a Larry, so I really hesitate to tarry the whole group with the same brush. However I do strongly agree with you that there are those who are complete hypocrites. Nothing annoys more more than when Larries ™ treat the other boys, other celebrities, their friends and even family as one more side character to the Larry Show.

In particular when Larries ™ flood comment sections asking or in some cases, ordering people to confirm rumors/the couple being together. The absolute fucking disrespect. Not just because they’re flooding comment sections in videos streams, tweets, what have you, that sometimes have nothing to do with the couple in question, but because its presumptuous and rude as fuck to think they’re owed a coming out- just because they’re fans of the boys.

Stop it. Thats fucking ugly as hell.

While I have no doubt all the boys will one day be out (as referenced by their continued efforts in fighting the closet. I don’t get the sense the boys will just stop at being freed from their contractual obligations). It should and will be on their own terms. Provided they’re not forcibly outed some other way.

Coming out is a deeply personal experience and no one, no one ever, has the right to out someone else. I’ll never not be absolutely furious at the Larries ™ who posted about having ‘receipts’ that would out the boys. Which… tbh weren’t receipts at all but thats a whole other story. I’m also still angry at the reactions after Liams Attitude spread that wouldn’t have been as bad if not for the entitled fandom that peddled ridiculous claims beforehand about Liam confirming Larry to be real.

I mean… What the actual fuck. Setting aside the fandom experience of the time, and boy was it an experience. What right would Liam have confirming Louis and Harry’s relationship? I mean, get some perspective? It doesn’t help that a lot of fandom adults were the ones coming up with, and reblogging those theories and the younger fans ate it up. It would have made more sense for Louis and Harry to do it but idk maybe I’m still out of touch for thinking so. I mean, it felt like every other week someone was talking about Larry coming out. It was such a shit storm oh my god.

Biggest issue I still have with them is that the entitled behaviour hasn’t stopped. For some it seems like, Larry coming out is it for them. Like pack it up, goodbye, shows over, Louis and Harry are gay and in a relationship and everything is rainbows, we get to see cute pictures of them and everyone lives happily ever after.

Yeah, no. Coming out, for anyone, is just the beginning, can’t even begin to imagine what its like for them. They’re still going to need everyones support, and it irritates me that for some fans it seems so fucking conditional.

Time and time again, I’ve seen tweets, and posts, and videos, whatever, going on about Larry coming out and it reads like a fucking wattpad story. Not just that but its always on the assumption by the poster, on the off chance they consider the other 3/5ths of the band and Ziam being a possibility, that Larry will come out first?

What?

I’m sorry but, what?

Everything I’ve seen from the boys tells me they’re all in this together, they support each other and are working through the bullshit as a team. We have all seen the No Judgement music video yes? The merch, posts, double speak etc referencing each other, yes?

I mean, I suppose if you only look at Louis and Harry, like so many do, sure. Only Larry matters, everyone else is a side character in their life.

(Lemme just, scream for a second).

However, that kind of thinking leads them to the wrong conclusions. Like… assuming the SBB/RBB countdown was attributed to nothing, when it counted down to Liam finally being free of Sophia. In the years since, I’ve seen Larries ™ backtrack on claiming the bears had anything to do with the boys, that they weren’t behind it at all, or that they were just trolling the fandom.

You know, despite all the proof otherwise, and some really, really good posts breaking down clues about what the boys were trying to tell us. The moment something might not actually be about Louis and Harry its like all their thinking shuts off. Its frustrating. Really fucking frustrating.

Seriously, fans of the other boys as individulas, not just Ziams, have been talking about the stunts too and how they fit together. Its why we tend to be right, because we’re considering the entire group. They’re still a group. They’re not free until all of them are free.

Just for that Nialls coming out first. Lmao. I’ll call it now. Lets go Niall, whens the baby coming. We all wanna know. Its been years.

Imagine, imagine! Acting like coming out is some race to be won. The fucking audacity.

Go outside and touch fucking grass you absoulte ninny.

I get it, you want to be vindicated, you want to be rewarded for putting your faith in two celebrities being together.

Newsflash you dandelionfluff, its not a race, Louis and Harry coming out isn’t a fucking prize. Thats not what supporting a relationship looks like.

Its worse when someone admits they don’t know much about Ziam or the possibility of Niall being LGBT+, and claim they’re open to it, but then immediately tweet or reblog or sub tweet or tag comment a post or answer an ask from another Larry ™ talking about how Larries ™ are the most marginalized and persecuted group.

???

In what fucking world?

IN WHAT FUCKING WORLD?

If we wanna play that game, boohoo, the media claims Louis and Harry aren’t friends anymore because of crazy shippers. Meanwhile Zayn publicly isn’t friend with anyone and “left” the band… despite the Ziam fandom calling the stunt about either Louis or Zayn “leaving” and getting it down to the exact week (the second article coming out a week before about the Ziam kiss pretty much cemented it for Zayn leaving. Which did a lot to fan the flames of the already rabid fanbase when Ziam got two articles confirming a Ziam kiss over the years and Larry got nada. Like that actually means anything).

Not to mention Larries ™ using the hetties and management tactics against the other parts of the fandom to silence them.

Who cares what the media says anyway!  TPTB, 1DHQ, The Sun, The Mirror, Simon and his minions and their unpaid interns have used the media to split the fandom apart and it worked.

Who the fuck cares if the media calls the 1D stans delusional, you know the truth! The truth it out there and you’ve seen it! The truth is coming! Who gives a damn about what some two bit “journo” who failed out of their creative writing course writes? They get worse by the year. If it wasn’t so pathetic and hilarious I might actually feel embarrassed for them. They can’t even come up with new stories and have just taken to copying old articles, but you’re upset with them??? Give it a rest. Honestly.

The sense of disconnect, entitlement and victimhood of some Larries ™ is absolutely ridiculous.

Oh my god they’re Karens. I’m not trying to be insulting, but thats exactly who they remind me of.

I’m not going to say its a surprise to me that so many in the Ziam fandom are POC, LGBT+, and Neurodivergent and any combination of those, but I am going to say I’ve read a lot of Larry fics that just have Het sex made gay. Those in the Ziam fandom just tend to look at facts in a different way than Larries do due to their life experiences. A interfaith, interracial, relationship where one or both partners fall under the Bi umbrella (not saying Louis or Harry can’t be or aren’t Bi+ but rumors, and the way the fandom markets them, puts them firmly in the gay category) looks very, very different than gay or straight relationship. Both looking from outside and being in one. There’s just different dynamics at play that aren’t often realized or understood by the gays and hets.

Its not a bad thing. All relationships are different. The issue is that theres a lot of biphobia/racism/religious prejudice etc that arises from people being unwilling to understand the inherent differences.

Taking myself for example, I’m bi, like, bi as hell, and I don’t understand how gays and hets only like one gender. I just don’t. Can’t wrap my head around it. If someone asks me to choose one gender over the others to prefer I can’t. Its so stressful. My brain goes into panic mode and it feels like I’m being torn apart. My sense of identity is shaken- its a shit feeling. I just can’t lie to myself like that. If other people feel the same well, its no wonder bi+ have such high rates of depression and suicide. Its not about choosing who to like, there is no choice, I just feel attraction to everyone. Aces, I get. Its similar to being the opposite of what I feel, or not feeling an attraction to someone I’m not interested in. Easy. Gays and hets? I’m completely lost on.

Completely, and I know I’m not the only one who feels that way. But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try and understand where they’re coming from. Its alien to me, personally, but I’m not going to shut down the fact, that theres a fuck ton of people who only like one gender or try and make up reasons as to why they’re actually bi+

I digress, none of the boys fall neatly into the gay stereotypes, its just that parts of the Larry fandom have boxed Louis and Harry into certain roles to fit preconceived notions (likely do to them initially fitting in better with the white, sassy, somewhat effeminate twink thats been plastered all over Hollywood as their “LGBT+ representation” for years. Gag), they can understand better, and only look for proof to back up their theories but don’t look at things objectively.

They really need to get out more and make some LGBT+ friends that aren’t on the internet and talk to some gay elders. They need educating that’s not the often sanitized and insulting Hollywood version, that’s all I’m saying.

They made Louis and Harry more palatable for themselves and its… really gross.

I don’t know, I don’t get it.

Some Larries ™ turned the boys into their fandom and fanfiction stereotypes when they’re so much more than that. The Sony leaks should have been enough to dissuade the fandom, and prove that the brand sold to the broader audience is just that- a brand, and yet… Niall only talks about food and golf and Ireland and is only allowed to be straight or ace. If he exists at all its just to be Capt Niall. Liams slow and dumb and depending on the day he’s either Capt Liam or a horrific abusive homophobe. Zayns just The Worst, a unstable drug addict, and the boys hate each other, and they should have kicked him out of the band sooner because he never wanted to be part of them anyway, etc.

It drives me absolutely around the bend some days. They’re real people who don’t owe anyone anything, especially not coming out.

Yes, I think they will. But they’re not obligated to. They can change their minds, I’ll support them regardless of an “official” coming out or not.

Look, a part of me gets it. They wanna be right, they wanna prove the haters wrong, they want to be able to say I called it all along! The vindication will be sweet.

But like, it takes a quick look at someone other than Louis and Harry to realize theres something hinky going on with Liam, Zayn and Niall. Please listen to their fans who have spent just as much time as you have looking into Louis and Harry compiling together evidence.

It might take a weekend to watch the ILYSM and pterodactyl bros videos and a few more hours looking into some Niall blogs, which isn’t much compared to the hours I know they’ve spent looking into Larry. At least then they’ll have enough information to form an opinion on things.

I wonder, for some, what would happen if Larry didn’t come out, or didn’t come out first, or one of the other boys was outed against their will. Because… I don’t know. It seems like some would rather just be proven right at this point.

I get it. We’re tired. Its been eleven long years. But this isn’t a television show were everything can come to a head with a s3 or s4 cliff hanger and fixed in the series finale. Its real life, and they started off as boys trusting industry veterans who never had their best interests at heart.

Iduno. I just want some Larries ™ to take a step out of the echo chamber, realize life isn’t The Larry Show & co. And especially. ESPECIALLY, that every instance were someone, friends, family, co-works, industry peeps etc support the boys they are SUPPORTING THE BOYS, NOT THE FANDOM. They are not “confirming Larry for the fans” they’re doing it to support the couple, not to cater to the fandom. Please stop confusing the two. There’s a huge fucking difference. Learn it.

[blackkwidowed]

a reminder

Requested: 

Hi! I absolutely love your Nat x Reader stories, OOOF. Can I request where the reader is an Idol (singer and hardcore dancer) and the reader is at dance practice at the avengers compound. Then when the Reader goes to their shared room, they get into an argument because of not spending time with each other and then it leads to reallyyyy hot sex where Nat is extreme sub. Reader is also an Avenger with abs and muscle. (girl on girl) THANKS DOLL!

Summary: Natasha perhaps appreciates bad ideas too much. 

Rating: E. Filthy smut. Sub!Nat (my fave *swoon*). Uhhh spanking, The Strap, light dirty talk, light choking. Nat’s a size queen. Slight daddy kink but not realllyyy. Up to interpretation. Sorry.

Word Count: 2,401

I’m so sorry this is filth. It’s thirsting hours (send me smut requests) and i am h word

To say you enjoyed the attention was perhaps a little narcissistic, but when you’d been working on your dreams for so long, success was something you were grateful for, more than anything. You were humble about it, and you were quite widely known for that quality. 

The last year or so had been your best professionally, with the release of an album and too many performances to count. It had been thrilling, every minute of it. 

But now, you were tired. 

Tired, because keeping all of that up full time as well as working on super secret stuff in Stark Tower, was exhausting. 

You kept it all balanced at first, but you’d been away a lot recently and you’re starting to think Natasha is growing less fond of being apart from you. Admittedly, you hated it too, but you also knew how happy Natasha has and always will be for you. 

You’re thinking about it while you finish up your practice for the week, a promise to Natasha that since you hadn’t seen each other much the last few weeks, you’d spend some time together. You miss her every day. Sometimes she gets the chance to come with you, but with how demanding her role is too, it makes everything a little more difficult. 

You gather your things and call it a day, riding the elevator straight to your shared room with Natasha. You hope she’s waiting for you already, you hope she’s missed you as much as you had missed her. 

“Nat?” You call, kicking the door shut behind you. 

She emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed. “Hi, baby. You done?” 

“Hey, you,” you grin with a nod. “All done.”

“Good.” You don't miss the way her eyes linger on your biceps, slightly sleek with sweat from practice. A blush stains her cheeks and she moves to kiss you, fingers playing at the hem of your tank top. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, Natasha.” You pull her into a hug and God, that feeling of home and comfort is indescribable, unable to compare to anything else. “I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon but it should be over quickly, then I’m all yours.” 

You feel her sigh and your heart drops to your stomach. The noise alone screams this is about to get ugly. 

“We never spend time together.” She states, pulling away from the hug and looking at you, her expression sad more than anything else. 

You frown sympathetically at her with a nod. “I know. Things have been crazy lately. I’m sorry, Nat.” 

She runs a hand through her hair, shutting her eyes and sighing again. “I know, I just thought you’d finally spend a weekend with me instead of being all over the place with work.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “You know that’s selfish.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yes! My work is important, too. I can’t help it.” You shrug. “You work too, a lot, might I add. Don’t be a fucking hypocrite, Natalia.” 

She shoots you a look, but you don’t back down. How could you when she was being a little bit unreasonable.

“I just. I miss you. Feels like we don’t have enough time anymore. I mean, when was the last time we had sex?” 

You roll your eyes. “Is that what this is about? That you haven’t been fucked in a few weeks?” 

Natasha huffs and shakes her head. “No, I was just trying to make a point.” 

“Really? Because I can certainly change that.” 

She eyes you curiously, noting a change in your expression. You stand defensively, shoulders broad but still beautifully feminine, raised up a little in rising anger. You always look incredibly sexy like that, and she can’t help but let her mind run. 

“Don’t.” Natasha whispers. 

“Maybe you’re right,” you smirk at her, stepping forward and raising a hand to her cheek. You run your thumb across it, relishing in the growing warmth beneath it. “That isn’t the best way to solve a fight.” 

She shakes her head, staring intently at you, searching for an answer in your expression. You put on such a good façade that even Natasha can’t read you sometimes. 

“Definitely not,” she agrees. “We shouldn't.”

It’s barely even a second that passes, but your hands find the back of her neck and you pull her closer, leaning down to crush your mouth to hers and press your tongue against her lips. 

She doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back of course, but she’s disappointed when you pull away, the hands that initially brushed your waist now pinned above her head as she’s slammed against the wall. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You hum in her ear. Your free hand pins Natasha’s hips to the wall behind her. You feel her shiver and you grin, sinking your teeth into her neck and sucking harshly. You feel the vibration of a moan in her throat and you shove a thigh between her legs. “And don’t you dare move your hips.”

Natasha does try to stop the whimper threatening to fall, but the assertiveness in your voice and the tightening of the hand on her hip, fingers pressing into the flesh hard enough to bruise, makes it impossible and it slips out. 

With another nip at her neck, you step back and leave her slouched against the wall. You don’t fail to notice the way she squeezes her thighs together at your next order. “Strip. Now.” 

Natasha nods and does as she’s told, standing completely naked in front of you under your hungry gaze.  

“On the bed.”

Natasha just smirks, her own hands running up her stomach to her breasts. You bite your lip and shake your head at her. 

“On the bed, now, Natalia.” 

“Yes, daddy.” 

You release an animalistic noise in your throat, deep and slightly threatening. Natasha almost lets you win at this game when she hears it.

You grab Natasha’s hips as she strolls past you to lay on the bed, forcing her to her knees to bend her over one side of the bed. You adjust her so you can press against her ass. Your hand runs across her lower back, before lowering and delivering a slap.

“Jesus,” she yelps in surprise, the harsh sting causing a flood between her thighs. “More.”

“Yeah?” You hum, fisting her hair in your free hand. You use more force the next time you do it, and more after that progressively. By the time you’re satisfied with how obvious your marks on her ass are, she’s a whimpering mess beneath you. “Naughty girl. You gonna behave for me now?”

She nods quickly, frantic and desperate for whatever is about to come next. 

“Hands and knees.” You order. Your voice is heavy and thick with lust, Natasha can’t handle herself. 

She scrambles to meet your request and you kneel behind her again, running a hand over her ass softly this time to soothe it a little. You run your fingertips down the back of her thighs. God, you can feel her trembling, you can see it. You glance down at the bed sheets from where she was bent over the bed before and you tut, loud. The sheet is soaked from where she was pressed against it, the slaps to her ass evidently doing more than you thought. 

“Dirty girl, look at the mess you made,” you chuckle, glancing back down at where she’s raised her ass up before you. Her thighs are slick, she’s so fucking ready to be taken that you can’t believe it. “Such a messy little slut. You just can’t control yourself, can you?” 

“Mmf.” She moans at your words and you grin to yourself because dammit you’ve got her slick and ruined and moaning for you without even touching her. 

“Spread your legs.” You deliver a light slap to the back of one thigh, running your hand back up to sink a finger inside her without a warning. “Just like that. Good girl. That’s it.” 

She drops her head and groans, hips pushing back to take your finger deeper. She needs more. Well, in reality you know what she really needs from you right now is something else, something bigger. But you’ll make her wait for that. 

You add another finger, sinking deep and curling perfectly. She whines and moans your name quietly, the sound forcing you to drive deeper inside her. Your thumb moves to circle her clit and she cries out, tightening around your fingers in a plea for more. 

She’s stunning like this, spread out and sweaty and begging for more. 

With the addition of a third finger, you thrust hard. The pressure on her clit is wonderful, and you know she’s close already. She whimpers, fingers grabbing at the sheets and balling them in her fists. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

A dark smile paints your face and you fuck into her harder, speeding up the circling and the pressure on her clit and she comes with a cry of your name, hips bucking erratically. 

Pulling your fingers out, you reach around and slip them into her hot mouth. She groans around them, sucking them clean and clenching her thighs together. 

You kiss her shoulder and hop off the bed, heading to that special drawer you share with Natasha. You can hear her breath hitch as she watches your every move, not moving from her position on her hands and knees. Such a good girl. 

You’ve put the harness on so many times you may as well start packing with it, and at the mere thought you make a mental note for later. Natasha would definitely like it if you packed for her. You contemplate with sizes for a moment before picking up the biggest one, the need to fill her up and split her open and show her who’s in charge becoming overwhelming, to say the least. 

When you return to the bed, her thighs are shaking in anticipation and you shudder, the thought of being so deep and so thick inside her ruining you and setting you alight. 

“On your back. I want to watch you come for me.” 

Natasha does as she’s told, turning over and laying back against the pillows. Her legs are already open for you and you crawl between them, leaning over her to kiss her slowly. She hesitates to touch you, still following your rule from earlier. 

You pull away and move to take a hard nipple into your mouth. “You can touch, sweetheart.”

She breathes relief and her fingers sink and tangle through your hair, pulling you up to kiss her again. She bites at your bottom lip and groans. 

You know she can’t wait any longer and you reach down to grasp the base of the toy, guiding it through her folds slowly, brushing her clit. She whimpers, bucks her hips, eyes pleading for you to just fuck her.

“Hush, baby,” you whisper, placing a kiss below her ear. “Shhh.”

She gasps, mouth falling open as you press the toy to her cunt, slipping the tip inside as her legs part further to accommodate the stretch. The toy is big. Not unrealistic in size, but definitely well above average. 

You pull out and she whines. Placing a soft kiss to her cheek, you push in again, further this time, a little faster. You know she can take the stretch, you’re desperate to see it happen, but teasing her is near amusing, so much so you can’t resist. 

You continue to push deeper, your hips eventually meeting hers and you groan. She’s completely full of you, stretched around that cock like it’s what she knows best. The feeling of being inside her like this is like nothing else. 

“Please move your hips,” she murmurs, begging. “Please, Y/N.”

“Okay, baby,” you smile, kissing over her chest. “Okay.” 

You pull out almost all the way, just leaving the tip inside her, and you thrust back in, faster than before, a little harder. A low, raspy groan forms in her throat and fingers dig into the muscles in your back, clawing and scratching for support. You growl in her ear, “harder.” 

You can feel the smirk against your neck as she bites, scratching down your back with more force as your thrusts speed up, setting a delicious pace as you fuck into her. 

You slow your thrusts a little so you can grasp at her legs, hooking her thighs over your shoulders and speeding up again.

“Oh fuck,” she damn near screams, the new angle surprising her pleasantly. “Fuck me harder.”

You smirk and obey, your hips moving at an incredible force just to keep her greed at bay. You’re struggling to move as she clenches around the toy, your thumb circling her clit. “So tight. Can barely move.” 

She whines and scratches harder at your back. You’re certain she’s leaving marks and you can’t wait to see the bright crescent shapes littering your skin when you wake up in the morning, the aftermath of sex with Natasha being almost just as exciting as the act. 

“I’m close,” she warns. A devilish smirk appears on your lips and she reads it immediately. “Don’t make me say it.” 

“Say it, pretty girl.” You command. “Say it or you don’t get to come.” 

She huffs and you get a new idea, reaching up to wrap your fingers around her throat. Natasha can’t help it now, keening under the rough touch. 

“Please, Y/N.” She gives in. “Please can I come?” 

“Mhmm, come for me.” Your lips find hers, an attempt to stop the screams coming from her which you know you’re gonna get complaints about from the rest of the team come the morning. 

She comes again with a breathy whimper of your name, her nails raking down your back so hard you hiss in pain. You’d be stupid to stop fucking her so you don’t, forcing her to come again right after and she screams, your hand still around her throat. 

“Oh my God,” she mutters. It’s broken, raspy, she can’t really talk properly considering how hard she just came and you love it. “Don’t tell me you’re done.” 

“Nope.” You smirk, pulling out, and you flip her so she’s straddling your hips. You pat your thighs and grab the base of the toy to hold it steady. “You’re gonna fuck yourself on this toy while I watch.”

[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter 7

Summary: Finals are rapidly approaching and after the events that occurred at Thanksgiving, Nesta is having a hard time focusing. With her new job at Rita’s and classes, she’s exhausted. Tomas has been helping her study for the exam but with the exam just days away, Nesta is still nowhere near prepared. She reaches her last resort which is to get the answers to the exam from her T.A., Tomas. It doesn’t go as planned. Notes: Read it here on AO3! Warnings: explicit descriptions of sexual violence (please don’t read if that is triggering for you; you’re your number one priority) Bittersweet Masterlist

December

After the disaster that was Thanksgiving, Nesta turned all her attention to classes. Finals were rapidly approaching which was a good enough excuse as any to skip those damn dinners. It certainly didn’t stop Elain from inviting her, but Feyre on the other hand? She expressed no interest in Nesta’s sudden absence. In fact, Nesta imagined her sister breathing a sigh of relief every time she told her she wouldn’t be coming.

Something ugly planted itself within her after the events that transpired just two weeks ago. It churned in the pit of her stomach. It was as if her insides were being twisted inside out. And she couldn’t seem to place the emotion. Anger? Guilt? Embarrassment? All the above?

Either way, she was too busy to think much about it. With finals and her new job, Nesta’s schedule was jam packed every week. She wasn’t complaining. She savored it. She was never left alone with her thoughts. There was always something to do and since all the work exhausted her, she no longer had trouble falling asleep.

After applying to Rita’s, she heard back from them a week later.

Nesta,

Thank you for your application. It’s always exciting to hire a new employee, and I was especially ecstatic when I discovered you were Feyre’s sister. That little rag-tag group stole my heart.

After reading through your resume, I would love for you to be part of our little team here at Rita’s. I’m not one for interviews (they’re pretty pointless if you ask me), so just let me know when you’re able to start. My family and I are on vacation until the 29th. I’m looking forward to meeting you.

 Best,  Rita

And with that, Nesta was no longer unemployed.

----------------------------

She started just a couple days following Thanksgiving. Rita had closed down the bar for the holiday, she and her wife leaving town for an annual vacation. According to Feyre, Rita only took off two weeks in the year. And since her family didn’t celebrate Christmas, those two weeks were reserved for Thanksgiving.

Nesta barely slept the night before her first day. She hated new places, new people. New jobs. It was all just… a lot to take in. But she showed up the next day, her anxiety hidden behind a confident stride and a professional attitude.

Right off the bat, Nesta noticed the welcoming atmosphere of the bar. It was a bit rustic, the wooden tables and chairs worn. The vintage bulbs that hung from the ceiling provided warm, dim lighting. The high chairs that sat in front of the bar counter were cushioned with plush, deep red fabric. Nesta looked around the walls to admire the art. She noticed upon closer glance that they all had names of local artists next to their respective work. The small space was elegant, inviting, homey.

Rita didn’t hesitate as she walked up to Nesta and gave her a hug. She stiffened, unaccustomed to physical touch of any kind – much less from a stranger. Rita seemed to read the room and retracted her arms with an apologetic smile.

“Forgive my wife,” a voice said from behind Rita. Nesta looked up to see a blonde woman smiling. Not at her, but at Rita. “She doesn’t have any sense of personal space.”

Nesta watched, amused as Rita stuck her tongue out at her wife. Turning back to Nesta, she waved her hand. “Forgive her. She’s just jealous.”

That seemed to be a good enough icebreaker as any. After being introduced, Rita led Nesta behind the bar. The next hour was spent training. Rita told her how she began her business, the bar’s signature drinks, and the other employees who worked there. Apparently, there were only four bartenders excluding herself: Emerie, Helion, Viviane, and Thesan. It had been an hour before open when Nesta had arrived and by the time the clock hit five, Nesta was pretty confident in her drink-making skills. But that wasn’t what she was worried about; it was more the whole “costumer service" thing. To say the least, Nesta lacked people skills. She had no problem calling people out on their shit, and she was going to have to learn how to keep her mouth shut in front of customers. Gods only knew how angry Rita would be.

That anxiety dissipated when one of the workers, Emerie, clocked in. She strode in confidently, her gaze unwavering as she approached Nesta.

“Three things you need to know. First thing, don’t ask me to cover your shift unless you’re dying or you win two tickets to a Beyonce concert, in which case I’m coming. Second of all, wear a lower cut shirt next time. Men are disgusting and won’t spare a look at you unless you flash a little cleavage.”

Nesta crossed her arms. “And the third?”

Emerie pointed to a board behind them, one that Nesta hadn’t noticed when she walked in. “We have a competition going on to see who earns the most tips. Lucky for you, we just started last week. The winner gets full control of the music for a month and as many rounds of drinks they can handle paid in full by the losers. So,” Emerie appraised her, “don’t fall behind.”

Nesta inwardly laughed at the woman’s attempt to intimidate her, especially considering she was a good foot shorter than her. Little did Emerie know, Nesta was competitive as fuck and she would do anything to win. Especially if there was alcohol involved. She smirked. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

Emerie blinked at her in surprise. Nesta just held her stare.

Then, Emerie’s lips broke into a smile. “Oh, I’m going to like you.”

-------------------------------------------

Since their first meeting, Nesta and Tomas had studied together about once a week. If Nesta was being honest, she would have completely forgotten about finals if Tomas hadn’t offered to help her study. Her mind was preoccupied with all the other shit going on in her life, and the only reason Nesta hadn’t yet failed that class was thanks to Tomas. She was baffled at his reputation as an asshole T.A.; he’d been nothing but resourceful to her since the beginning of the semester.

At least the job at Rita’s was going well. She liked all her coworkers for the most part. Helion was loud. Viviane was sassy. Thesan kept to himself. Emerie was her favorite. Nesta learned that she had been working there since its beginnings. Apparently, Rita and her wife took her in when she was young, and they’d been like family ever since. Nesta and her couldn’t be more similar. They would complain about customers before they even turned their back. Both of them were no-nonsense women who didn't tolerate bullshit. They were both suckers for romance novels and had a large distaste for country music. And most importantly, they bonded over their hatred for the same people.

It made for the perfect friendship.

But her job was only taking away time that she needed to utilize for academia. Despite Nesta’s efforts to study for the gods-damn exam, she wasn’t prepared in the slightest. During their sessions, she could barely focus. Tomas’s words went in one ear and out the other. When he gave her extra work, she rarely did it. Her mind was scattered; it was as if she was sleepwalking through her days. Wake up, go to class, work, study, sleep. Rinse and repeat. Nesta was exhausted.

So, with the exam just three days away, Nesta didn’t have any other options. She couldn’t fail this course and jeopardize her education.

Her plan was simple. T.A.’s had access to exam answers. Tomas was a T.A. All she needed to do was get those answers from him in one way or another.

The idea had been swirling around in her head for the past week, but she’d always shoved it to the background when it surfaced. After all, it was her last resort. Nesta didn’t cheat. In fact, she despised when people took credit for doing jackshit. It was hypocritical, and yet...

 I can’t fail. Not again.

It wasn’t like it would be hard either. She didn’t have to do much to get Tomas’s attention. That first day she'd introduced herself after class, it was impossible to miss the way his eyes flicked down to her chest every few minutes. Add to that a lip bite and a suggestive glance, and those answers would be hers.

What could she say? Men were simple like that.

------------------------------------------

It was Tuesday, Nesta and Tomas's last study session before the exam.  

As Nesta sat at the table eating dinner, which consisted of a cup of coffee and a granola bar, her phone vibrated beside her. Picking it up, she saw Tomas’s name flash across the screen as she received his text.  

Hey – my roommate had to borrow my car so I can’t meet you at the library. How about  we  study at my place?

Nesta smirked. Gods, he made it so easy.

What’s your address?

Nesta retreated to her room and opened her closet. Glancing at the time, she hurried as she grabbed the most provocative outfit she could find. She threw on a lacy, long-sleeve bodysuit that molded to her every curve. Stepping into a skirt, Nesta had to shimmy her hips to pull the tight fabric up, covering only a couple inches of her upper thigh.  With a couple flicks of her wrist, she adjusted her makeup and fluffed her hair.

Nesta spared a glance at the mirror. She grinned.

There was no way she would be leaving his place without those answers tonight.

Nesta shoved on a pair of booties and gathered her things. She quickly shut the bedroom door behind her.

“Ooooh!” Elain peered over the couch as Nesta beelined for the front door, her heels clicking loudly on the hardwood floor. “Special occasion?”

Nesta didn't respond.

But Elain didn’t take to being ignored.

Nesta watched as she pulled herself off the couch and faced her with a sly grin. “Hot date?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I’m going to Tomas’s to study for my exam.”

Elain nodded her head, shooting a look at her that said, Sure, you are.

Nesta ignored her again, not slowing down.

“Should I expect you to return tonight?”

“Mind your business, Elain. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“Be safe!” Elain called as Nesta hurriedly walked out of the apartment.

-------------------------------------------

When Nesta pulled into his gravel driveway, there weren’t any lights on, save for one on the first floor. She noticed his parked car.

Weird.

Nesta didn’t bother questioning it, though. Her stomach was already a bundle of nerves. Fidgeting in the skintight skirt, she tugged it down an inch so the neighbors wouldn’t look out the window and catch a free showing.

Gods, what am I doing?

Every step she took closer to Tomas's house, the further her heart sunk. It's not like she wanted to do this. But Nesta didn't have any other options. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and she was the one who put herself in that situation to begin with. So it was going to be her who got herself out of it.

You're going to hate yourself if you do this, a voice warned inside her head.

She shoved away the thought.

Even though her heart raced as she approached the front door, her strut was strong and confident. She didn’t falter for a step.

Nesta released a shaky breath and composed herself. She knocked once and the door was already opening.

“Nesta,” Tomas greeted her, eyes roaming over her body. He wore a polo shirt and sweatpants. She wasn’t sure if she shivered from the numbing winter air or his raunchy gaze. Nesta stifled the urge to zip her jacket all the way to her neck. “I’m glad you made it.”

Nesta pushed past the desire to say fuck it. To just go back home and accept the fact that she was going to fail. Instead, she plastered on a charming smile and giggled softly. “Thank you for inviting me.”

He led her inside. As she followed him, she caught a whiff of something strong. Vodka? Rum? She wasn't sure. But it was coming from Tomas.

Why the fuck did he drink when we're about to study?

They walked past the kitchen table. Nesta faltered.

“Aren’t we going to study here?”

Tomas looked over his shoulder with an easy smile. “I figured we could do it in my bedroom. It’ll be more comfortable anyway.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond as he kept walking. Nesta followed him reluctantly. She wanted to seduce him, sure, but there was no way in hell she was going to fuck him for the answers. She wasn't going to go that far.

“Welcome to the man cave.” He gestured to his room.

Nesta rolled her eyes inwardly. Man cave? Really? Gods, men are insufferable.

When she took a step in, she was assaulted by the overwhelming scent of men’s cologne. She stifled the urge to cough. His room was cramped; there was barely any space to walk. The comforter was brown, along with his pillows and walls.

Nesta hated brown.

The one thing she noticed was none of Tomas’s textbooks were out. In fact, his backpack was shoved in the corner.

“So where -"

Nesta was cut off when she felt Tomas directly behind her.

She spun around to face him. That's when she noticed his eyes. They were red-rimmed and glossy.

He hadn't just had one drink. He was drunk.

“Damn, girl," Tomas leered, taking a step closer to her. Nesta took a step back, trying to keep distance between them. "I thought it was going to take a little more effort than this to get you into my bed, but then you showed up dressed like that."

What the fuck?

“I think there was a misunderstanding –"

“Oh, trust me, I don’t think that’s the case.” Then Tomas's arm was around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Nesta tried to back away, but he only held her closer. His grip was tight. Too tight to shove him off.

“Tomas, no – “

“Aw, you don’t mean that, baby. I see the way you look at me.” His mouth pressed against her ear, his hot breath enough to make Nesta gag. “You’ve wanted this for a long, long time. Just as long as I have."

Nesta scanned his room frantically. There were no windows. His bedroom door was closed. And locked.

That’s when she started to panic.

"Can we just talk for a minute?" She willed her voice not to shake. Maybe if she remained calm, tried to reason with him -

Nesta cried out in pain as Tomas pushed her onto the bed. Hard.

"Please, stop!"

Tomas paid no mind to her pleas as he straddled her waist before she had the chance to get up. Nesta could only look at him with wide eyes as he loomed over her. Fear crawled its way up her throat at the look he was giving her. He placed a damp hand on her hip, his nails digging into her skin. He slid his hand further up, past her stomach until -

No, no, no nononono.

Tomas palmed her breast over her shirt, squeezing so hard that tears spilled over Nesta's cheeks. She tried to kick her legs but he was so heavy, too heavy. His weight was suffocating, her breathing was rapid and her heart was pounding and she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think; what should she do, what should she do, what should she do -

His lips slammed down on hers. Her cry was silenced. Tomas tried to shove his tongue into her mouth, but Nesta kept her lips closed as she squirmed underneath him and kicked her legs. But he remained on top of her. He wasn't budging.

"Open your fucking mouth," he growled against her lips. Nesta sobbed as she kept fighting to get him off her. He kept moving his mouth against hers, forcefully trying to open her mouth until Nesta bit down on his lip as hard as she possibly could.

Tomas reeled back with a hiss and touched his lip with a hand. When he withdrew it, blood shone on his finger. He glared at her. "You bitch."

Nesta didn't see his palm coming until she felt the sharp slap on her cheek, her head snapping to the side from the sheer force. The wind was knocked out of her. She felt paralyzed, helpless.

Nesta was motionless under him as his mouth dragged along her bared neck. He sucked on her skin hard even to bruise. Another sob escaped her clenched teeth. Her fists were balled tightly, a scream trapped in her. Bile rose in her throat when Tomas rubbed himself against her. She felt his erection press hard against her stomach, and she nearly threw up right there. His hands fell to the fabric of her skirt as he began to hike it up to her hips.

Something within her snapped.

Nesta didn't know what happened next. All she knew was her fist was burning with pain and she was shoving Tomas off her, sprinting for the door, racing through the house. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins as she heard Tomas yell her name behind her but she was too fast. He was too far behind.

She didn't stop running until she fell into the driver's seat of her car. She didn't bother buckling her seat belt as she peeled out of his driveway.

Sometime along the way home, Nesta stopped shaking. Her tears dried. Her heart stopped pounding. Her thoughts disappeared until she was left only with a silent mind and an empty feeling.

Nesta stared at the road in front of her, and she happily invited the feeling of numbness as it flooded into her body.

---------------------------------

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[calypsoff]

Twenty Seven.

Rolling my eyes hard while on FaceTime to Chris, you know what why is the man I love, also is the love of my life and I adore him so much, but he is so fucking stubborn. He has his moments where he will leave his ego at the door where he will obey me and what I say and then the next day he will refuse to hear me out or say I am being judgemental and I need to listen to what I am saying to him, it’s always my way, it never is anyways. But I swear he does shit and doesn’t think of the bigger picture at all “you got a face on with me?” So he says “not so much, you could be here with me in Cali but instead you’re there in Virginia about to do something dumb, it’s not even your child to care” I want to tell him no, I want to say to him if you love me don’t go but I know it will fall on deaf ears. I will look like the nasty one and that I look insecure when I don’t “exactly, show my face and go” I sniggered “that is the issue, you know why Chris. Do it, go. I am busy anyways, I think you need a lesson” rubbing my forehead “you are doing the most for nothing, it’s really nothing. But anyways I’m going to go and look pretty” annoying asshole “ok bye” disconnecting the call before he could say anything more, he just wants to annoy me “why does he purposely go out of his way to be an asshole!” I shouted “baby you could have said no, it’s easy” Mel added hearing the whole conversation, this is whole other issue. I don’t like how we are all dating people in the same circle, if shit goes wrong it will affect us “you don’t know Chris like I do, but you know what. Let him go, he hasn’t had the blogs be on his ass, he doesn’t know what it is like being famous and he will soon find out, I want him too. I’m going to rehearsal and ignoring him when he’s getting tagged in false claims, I don’t care for them. I just didn’t want the mess but let him, he will be calling me up saying I didn’t do anything. Let it happen Mel, who am I to hide him when he doesn’t want it from me, but I am angry, and until further notice I don’t want to know” shaking my head, he is going to get a nasty wake up call.

I enjoyed Virginia a lot, I loved how homie it was. I enjoyed my time with Chris, and I loved it all. It was a real good time away to be honest, it was my home when I was doing the exchange programme, I loved that his family treated me well and I feel Chris and I are closer than ever. But he just needs to stop trying to hear his own voice, like he doesn’t need to go but he will. And I can’t wait to hear him call me and say I didn’t do anything when they are dragging him, me. I have become immune to it, Chris will get a lesson in this “you have a face like thunder, the dancers are going to be shook” Mel said through her laughter “oh I’m not angry, I was just thinking. But how is you and Barry getting on? Is he less stubborn than Chris? Does he actually listen” Mel chuckled, she is laughing but I’m not, I hate when Chris is like this. Tries to be the man of our home, he knows damn well he will be crying to me “he’s a nerd, like Chris and I like that about him. He’s easy going, and we talk every day. He said that if we do end up being together and it works out well enough that he would move here and I’m like nigga already!? I mean I am not whipped at all but he’s nice, and easy going” I sighed out “oh brother, now why can’t Chris be this way” my man is a whole pain “because he likes to be the man of the house, I don’t know. Something he will get over but I’m excited” I’m scared of this whole relationship with friends’ things, I am just not sure of what to make of it. I feel like we will be judging each other, maybe that’s me because Chris is being a pain, but I hope it’s not what I assume it will be, I want better for me, for him, for us to be honest.

Robyn is cute, like she left me her gold chain. I mean it’s cute and small, but she left it behind, I think she did, or she purposely left it here, but I am wearing it anyways. Putting my snapback backwards, I wore the chain anyways, but I am just wearing the minimum, I wore white tee and grey sweatpants. I am just going to go to the thing and then leave, I am there for the free food like the fuck. It’s not even that deep, like I don’t understand why it’s a big thing, I mean I get it but it’s nothing. Go there and leave, that is it. I am late anyways, I told him I am going to go there late because I don’t want to be there all day. They are having the reveal at a hall, so I will turn up and then leave. I showed my face, I am there for my nigga so does it matter. Closing my bedroom door and making my way down the steps “where are you going?” Desean asked me “out, I will be back. Dad, I am borrowing the car!” I shouted; I been borrowing the car every day since being here. I need to get my own car; this is my list for my family. A new car for them, a new home. A bigger one anyways, they deserve it “when will you be back?” my dad asked “I won’t be long, I am going to see TJ” my dad nodded his head “uh, isn’t it Seiko gender party today? I saw someone post a little something about it” nodding my head “anyways, bye” I don’t need to hear anyone speak on this, I know what I am doing. This is my life, I need to take a hold of it in a way of making big money, I need to get into that life. And I think California, well me being in California will do me good. I need that in my life, I need to win big for me and my family and also Robyn, I need to do it for her too.

Locking my car door and making my way to the hall, these Jordan’s I have on right now are brand new, I just bought them today and these sweatpants is what Drake gave me from his clothing line, dope. I ain’t dressed up, I ain’t even shaved so if anyone thinks I made the effort then they lying as fuck. Licking my top lip pulling open the door to the place, I told TJ I am coming, and he came to meet me “I am so fucking happy to see you my brother” TJ hugged me “nigga got a whole fucking clown suit on” Barry snorted laughing “I had to look the part, I got the Burberry tie on. Man, my momma is so happy about this. I hate it” moving back from the hug and dapping Barry “well of course you ain’t going to be happy, shit was a mistake” I chuckled “is Seiko brother’s here?” not like I care “mhmm yeah, they trying to beef me up but whatever” of course “I am hungry, where the food at. There better be chicken wings” rubbing my stomach “nigga I paid half, I made sure there was. We wait on you so come. We can get some alcohol and food” nodding my head, least they waited on me. I don’t care for anyone, just my brother’s.

Licking my fingers as I placed the paper plate down, I am getting weird looks from people I don’t know “little rat, why you keep coming here?” TJ said to his sister “can I get a picture with you?” wiping my hands on my sweatpants “who?” I asked “you” she pointed “me!?” I spat half confused “can I? I want to tell my friends that I know you because you date Rihanna!” she half shouted, I chuckled “who is Rihanna? I don’t date Rihanna ma, see. The pictures you see they are photoshopped. I am single” I lied, but she doesn’t believe me. She seems more disappointed that I even lied to her, she looked down at her phone “my sister is pain bro, like she into this celebrity shit. Like live you damn life “look” she patted my lap, turning to her “oh wow, who is that woman?” she out here pulling out receipts of Robyn and I “stop lying, can I please have a picture with you. You’re super famous now” she is tripping “I am not famous, my god. It’s me Chris! I ain’t had this before with you” TJ nudged me “just do it bro so we can get rid of her” taking in a deep breath “fine, come here” waving her over “TJ take it” she passed her his phone and she openly sat in my lap, I ain’t into this picture thing “you look so annoyed, smile for me. Quick” I grinned at the camera “now go away! Leave us alone, dang” that is the weirdest shit to happen to me today.

Sitting back in my seat as TJ made his way to his baby mother, I find this hilarious to me. I know this nigga hates this, but he is putting on a front, I am so happy it wasn’t me. Chewing on my bottom, Seiko and I eyes met and she is just blatantly staring at me in a room full of people, I mean I wish she looked away, but I can tell she regrets things, she looked away as she should. Clearing my throat looking away laughing to myself “you look well Chris” looking to the side of me “I do? You look well too Kristie” moving my arm from the chair “you’re rather the celebrity in this joint, kind of knocked my best friend off her pedestal” moving my chair away from her as she sat down “I don’t bite, I mean you should know that” rubbing my hands against my sweatpants “I ain’t do shit, I come here to support my friend” there is one thing, I never fucked ugly bitches and I love that for me “likewise, she does love you and still does” I sniggered “right, and having sex with my best friend made that right” she pointed at me “you sir are a hypocrite, you fucked all her friends” shaking my head “she was right there, y’all was ok with it. She knew it was wrong from jump with TJ. She knew that” is this girl being real right now “I never liked her like that anyways, that is the point. I am happier, away from her” Kristie laughed “who wouldn’t be dating Rihanna? She is beautiful and rich, you tell me Chris did you purposely take her there to get with Rihanna?” shaking my head “I didn’t think Rihanna would even remember me like that, I love her so much and I don’t pass around that word much so you can’t say it’s like that when it’s not. Nothing to do with being rich, she is my childhood sweetheart” I don’t care, I will tell the whole world “that sent my friend a shut up letter, Seiko loves you still. I say good riddance, she says she lost but you look well. Better then I last saw you naked” she winked at me “it’s the tan” she got up from her seat “I suppose” watching her walk off, now I should have dated her between her and Seiko.

I clapped seeing that my friend is having a son, happy for him. I think if he was having a girl he would be even more depressed “are you dating Rihanna? You’re the guy she is dating” this girl pointed me out, I stopped clapping “huh, what?” I said all confused “you’re like the guy Rihanna is dating, she was in Virginia and she was at her old school, oh my god you are actually him. I follow him!” she shouted “I am just a regular dude” I put my hands up, in my defence I am “can we like take a picture with you? You are literally the sexiest light skinned nigga. I get why she would date you” I chuckled “I will pass on the photos” I walked by them “congratulations brother, a boy” dapping TJ “I am so happy, like I don’t know what I would do with a girl. Now you need to have a boy, then Barry we all going to have a day care” shaking my head laughing “you need to get Rih pregnant, on god” I shushed him “relax on that, she busy now. But I am happy for you” hugging him “thank you” I know he appreciates it “nice seeing you here” Seiko spoke to me, I stepped back keeping my distance “for TJ, I am going to see to Barry” dapping TJ walking off.

Barry is eating again “people are weird here, they all are speaking on Rihanna and I am her boyfriend. I am but the fuck. I am just a regular dude” Barry is stuffing his face “that makes you famous by affiliation now Chris, you famous” furrowing my eyebrows “that is bullshit, anyways. Kristie came up to me. Started speaking on Seiko still in love with me and shit. This is why I ran here but I think it’s my time to go” I think I do “can we talk?” Seiko is right there “about what? There is nothing to talk about” Barry stood next to me, I ain’t moving anywhere with her “did you go to her concert to get back with her, I hate myself. She was laughing at me all that time when she took you from me” taking in a deep breath “I was never yours, yes I was with you. I dated you but it really meant nothing when I always loved her, I did. I wish you let me go, take off my pictures. Move on, so you can be happier in yourself also. I came here for TJ, not to see you. I am going Barry, good luck with that” I pointed at her bump as I walked off, all I know is that I am in my city but people are acting mad weird now with this Rihanna shit and I want to run home.

[izzyfandoms]

Chosen - Chapter One

(This is a Gender-Swapped Sanders Sides high school au)

SUMMARY: Logan Berry, Dee Ceite, Patricia Foster, Virginia Picani and Regina and Rena Prince are all 16-year-old high school students. They live relatively normal lives, with ordinary lessons and ordinary crushes and ordinary families, until one day a monster shows up and attacks them after class, and everything suddenly changes.

SHIPS: Moxiety, Logince, Dukeceit

WARNINGS: Minor violence, minor sexual implications (Remus), Remus being Remus, swearing, sympathetic Deceit, sympathetic Remus

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game

Masterpost

NEXT CHAPTER

“Does this lipstick match my eyeshadow?” Regina spun around in her chair, away from the mirror, to pout her lips at her twin sister, Rena, who was standing on her bed, lacing up her boots.

“Who cares if they match?” Rena jumped off the bed, running her fingers through her unbrushed hair and bouncing over to Regina’s side of the room. “What matters is whether or not the lipstick tastes good.”

“It’s not flavoured.”

Rena laughed, picking up the tube of lipstick and flicking off the lid. “Everything has a flavour if you’re not a coward,” She exclaimed, and, with that, she took a bite of lipstick, removing almost half of it, chewing on it thoughtfully as her sister screamed at her.

“Rena!” Regina screeched, snatching it back and holding it protectively to her chest. “That was brand new!”

Rena grinned, unremorseful, showing off two rows of lipstick-stained teeth. Regina sighed, putting the cap back on and putting it back in the drawer of her desk, pushing it shut.  

She looked her sister up and down, one eyebrow raised. “Are you really wearing that to school?”

“What’s wrong with my outfit?”

Regina crossed her arms. “It’s identical to mine! The only differences are the colours and the fact that I wear it so much better than you!”

It was true, Rena was wearing a green, black and silver short-sleeved dress that was identical in every way except colour to Regina’s red, white and gold one.

Rena blew a raspberry, marching over to their shared closet and pulling out a denim jacket. It was stained with colours that would never wash out, and was one of the ugliest jackets either of them had ever seen, but that was why it was her favourite.

She pulled it on and grinned again, an unchewed piece of lipstick falling from her lips and landing on the carpet. Rena crushed it underfoot. “See, now we look different! Plus, my boots are so much cooler than yours. Hey, what if I pulled out someone’s intestines and wore them like a scarf, would that suit me?”

Regina ignored that last part, but still wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Rena, your boots don’t even match! One’s green and one’s pink, they don’t go together at all.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and spun around, picking her phone up from the dresser. “Did I absorb all the fashion sense in the womb, you… early 2000s reject.”

“Is that the best you got, you wrinkled duck’s penis?”

“Okay, that one was weird, even for you.”

Rena pouted exaggeratedly, slouching. “Uh, everyone knows a duck’s penis looks super weird, it’s like, common knowledge or something.”

“It is most certainly not common knowledge, you’re just a weirdo.” Regina then began to scroll through her phone, eyes lighting up slightly.

Rena straightened up, moving to see what her sister was looking at. It was exactly what she’d expected it to be – a picture of a school schedule, one that most certainly wasn’t hers.

“Ugh,” Rena groaned. “You’re looking at Logan’s schedule again. Isn’t that a bit stalkery? You complain when I talk about all my future crimes, and yet you do this? Hypocrite. I hate you.”

Regina glanced up. “Okay, first of all: you, like, go into such graphic detail about how you’ll murder people and eat their hearts, it’s disgusting. And, second of all: you cannot talk. You literally ate a photo of Dee, like, yesterday, and it definitely wasn’t the first time you’ve done that. You shouldn’t eat paper, you Queen of (eating) Hearts”

Rena blew another raspberry, wrapping her fingers around Regina’s wrist and beginning to drag her sister towards the bedroom door, picking up her school bag on the way. It was neon green and horrifically ugly, as expected. There were dozens of ripped stickers stuck to the straps.

“C’mon, Gina, we’re gonna be late for school. You can think about Logan and have some alone time later.”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “Have some-” Her face twisted in disgust when she realised what Rena was referring to. “Rena, what? No, I’m not- that’s gross! I don’t wanna talk about that, you’ve got to stop bringing it up!” She yanked her hand out of her sister’s grip, but Rena just shrugged.

“It’s a natural human thing, nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I recently-”

“Nope! No, no, nope. I refuse to listen to this.” Regina picked up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, before placing her fingers in her ears and screwing her eyes shut. “La, La, La. I can’t hear you!”

Rena hummed in thought, before cupping her hands around her mouth and shouting. “Hey, what if you and Logan fucked!”

Regina screeched in offended horror, eyes opening to glare at Rena, just as their dad, Philip, walked in. There was only a slight look of disappointment on his face.

“Girls, please,” He sighed. “My little Duchess, my precious Princess, what did we talk about?”

“No inappropriate language in the house.” Rena droned, pouting. “But, dad, I was just-”

He held up a finger in front of her mouth. “Now, now, no arguments. You’re going to be late for school if we don’t leave in a few minutes. Your lunches are in the fridge and there’s toast on the counter, you can eat it in the car.”

Rena sighed – though she was mostly annoyed at the thought of school, not their father’s interruption – as Regina smirked victoriously.

“Come on, oh, evil twin of mine, I wanna make it in time to meet Pat before school.”

***

A few hours had passed since morning, and the twins were in their final period – Mr Sanders’ chemistry class. They were sharing a desk at the back of the classroom, and were both paying more attention to scribbling their crushes’ names in their respective notebooks than to the lesson itself, as usual.

“Regina Prince, Rena Prince,” Mr Sanders called, and the girls looked up in unison. “Logan Berry and Dee Ceite, can the four of you please stay behind after class? I have some things I need to talk to you about.”

Dee and Logan were sat at the front of the room: the two girls having been actually paying attention to the lesson. They glanced back at the twins at the announcement, looking them over and the sisters blushed lightly as they made momentary eye contact.

Dee was very traditionally beautiful, with vitiligo covering the left side of her face, heterochromia, long black hair and an elegance about her that Rena found entrancing. She’d been in the same class as the twins since elementary school, and Rena’s crush had existed for just as long, never fading. Logan had perfectly neat hair that went just past chin-length, square glasses and an intelligence that surpassed that of almost everyone else in the school. Regina was almost certainly in love with her.

Rena leant over to whisper in her sister’s ear.  

“Dee looks like such a snack today. I’d let her slit my throat with that eyeliner. I hope she slits my throat with that eyeliner.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Could you be any weirder?” Rena opened her mouth, but Regina interrupted her before she could speak. “Okay, no, it’s you. Of course, you can be weirder.”

The student sitting closest to them gave the twins a weird look, pulling up the hood of his hoodie, before turning back to his work. In Rena’s opinion, he should have been used to this by now, as he’d been sitting near them all year.

Mr Sanders cleared his throat, and the sisters glanced back at him. He raised an eyebrow, before turning back to the power-point.  

“What sounds better?” Regina whispered to her sister. “Regina Berry or Logan Prince?”

Rena hummed in thought, picking at her teeth and flicking a crumb of lipstick to the ground. “Regina Berry,” She decided. “I don’t want people to know we’re related.”

Regina nodded in agreement. “Smart, I don’t want to be associated with you either.”

After a few more words exchanged, they went back to scribbling in their notebooks. Regina had finally decided to make some notes on the lesson they were supposed to be paying attention to, but Rena had instead elected to work on the next chapter of her disgustingly graphic Toy Story 3 fanfiction. It was horrendous, and insanely popular online.

The lesson ended shortly afterwards, and the twins packed up their things, though they stayed in the classroom as their teacher had instructed.  

Regina sat on the edge of her desk, crossing her legs and smoothing out the skirt of her dress. She and Rena had chosen to sit by the window, so she often stared out at the seemingly endless forest at the edge of the school grounds. The thick tree branches created a dense canopy of leaves that her eyes couldn’t breach, and she often found herself wondering what lay beneath them. It was unspoken rule across town that nobody entered the forest – people went missing there, on practically a monthly basis – but she and Rena had often stood at its edges, wondering what adventures lay beyond.

She shifted closer to the window. It had been raining earlier, so there was condensation creeping at the corners. A smile played at the corners of her lips as she pressed her finger to the glass and doodled a heart.

“What do you think Mr Sanders wants?”

Regina jolted in surprise, spinning around and coming face to face with Logan. She was stood beside a grinning Rena, who was making obscene gestures with her fingers that Dee had absolutely noticed by now; she was covering her mouth with a gloved hand as she chuckled. Fortunately, Logan was far too oblivious to notice or understand, saving Regina her last shred of decency. Mr Sanders was nowhere to be seen.  

“No clue!” Rena answered for her, hair bouncing with her constant movement. “What do you think, Dee? Do you think he plans to kill us?”

Dee shrugged. “I doubt he plans to murder us, but we don’t exactly have much in common.”

“Yeah,” Regina agreed, looking around again, brow creased. “Where did Mr Sanders go, anyway? I didn’t see him leave.”

“He said he’d be back in a few minutes.” Logan adjusted her glasses. “He also said there’d be two more students joining us, though he didn’t specify who.”

“Wonder if we did anything wrong?” Rena piped up, moving to sit on a desk, swinging her legs. “I mean, yesterday I switched all the science textbooks with the language textbooks and all the English textbooks with the math ones, but I don’t think that’s it.”

Logan gave her a disbelieving look. “Why?”

“I’m a being of chaos.”

Dee looked like she was trying not to smile, and there was a definite fondness in her eyes as she stared at Rena. She looked like she was about to speak up, when the classroom door opened, and all four girls immediately turned in that direction.

Two girls their age walked in: Patricia Foster and Virginia Picani, better known to their friends as Pat and Virge. They’d been dating since middle school, and, if asked, Regina would definitely call them her OTP; she’d helped them get together after all.

Pat was short and liked to wear her hair in pigtails. Her wrists were always covered in hair-ties, and she mostly wore t-shirts and skirts with a pastel blue colour scheme. Her girlfriend, Virge, was her complete opposite – tall and lanky with short purple hair and a black and purple colour scheme. The pair were holding hands when they walked in, and Pat squealed when she spotted the four crowded around Regina and Rena’s desk.

“Regina!” Pat exclaimed. “Rena! Logan! Dee! My four favourite people!” She paused, before giving her girlfriend a smile. “Apart from you, of course, angel. Oh, and apart from my moms, too! But, other than that you’re my favourite.”

Virge gave a small smile back, squeezing Pat’s hand.

“Patricia, Virge.” Logan pushed her glasses further up her nose. “I assume you’re also here for Mr Sanders? He mentioned there were two more people coming.”

“Yup!” Patricia exclaimed, half-dragging Virge over to the group. “I dunno why we’re here, though.”

“Neither do we,” Dee said. “But he said he’d be back soon. I wonder if we’re in trouble.”

Pat’s expression dropped, her eyes widening. “We’re in trouble?” She squeaked. “I don’t wanna be in trouble! What-”

“I doubt we’re in trouble, Pat.” Virge interrupted, hesitating for a second before pressing a reassuring kiss to the back of her girlfriend’s hand. “You haven’t done anything wrong; all the teachers love you.”

“Aww!” Regina squealed, grinning widely. “You guys are, like, couple goals.”  

She tried not to glance at Logan, she really did, but she failed, of course, and the two made eye contact, before looking away in unison. Her plight was obviously noticeable, as Patricia giggled and Dee snorted. Rena made another obscene gesture that everyone politely ignored, though Pat glanced away uncomfortably.

About a minute passed, and the classroom door swung open again, Mr Sanders finally stepping back inside. There was a large ink stain on his shirt that hadn’t been there before, and he was carrying himself differently. It was… uncomfortable, to say the least.

He smiled – flat and lifeless – as he looked them over, stepping closer.

“Girls, it’s good to see you again.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “It’s only been a few minutes, Sir.”

“Perhaps.”

There was a whole minute of silence following that, and even Rena was fidgeting uncomfortably by the end of it.

“You know what,” Mr Sanders broke the silence, stretching and cracking his back. “I’ve never been very good at this part – I’m not much of an actor – so let’s just get this over with.” And, with that, he unhinged his jaw, and three inky black tentacles shot out from the back of his throat, each coated with spikes.

Regina yanked Logan out of their way just in time, as did Virge with Pat. Dee managed to dodge the third on her own, as Rena was too busy staring at their teacher with curious horror and possibly even minor jealousy to notice.  

Dee grabbed the back of Rena’s jacket, dragging her away from the monster and scrambling closer to the back of the room with the rest of the girls. Their teacher was stood between them and the door, they were cornered.

“What the fuck are you?” Rena asked in slight awe. Dee sighed, moving to grab the shorter girl’s wrist, ready to drag her out of danger again if necessary.

Mr Sanders chuckled darkly, the appendages retreating back down his throat. An ink-like substance dripped from his eyes, ears, mouth and nose, his hair was also coated with it, having been splattered by the ink-covered tentacles.  

“Does it matter?” He said smoothly. “You’re going to die anyway.”

The inky black liquid moved to coat his left arm, turning it into a much larger and much more menacing appendage with a giant claw at the end. It then jolted forward in a burst of speed, stretching inhumanly, snatching up Regina and tugging her towards him. She screamed, naturally, and even the monster winced at the ear-splitting sound.

“There’s no point in struggling.” He held her in place. “There’s no one close enough to hear you.”

His jaw unhinged again, but the black liquid formed hundreds of razor-sharp teeth instead this time, and he used his human arm – which was still abnormally strong – to move her head to the side, baring her neck.

She continued screaming and wriggling, and multiple black limbs had to burst from his chest to keep the other girls from trying to help her. The appendages were sticky like slime, and held the girls to the wall with no room for movement

“You’ll make a delicious meal.” He cackled deviously, moving slowly to savour it, his teeth just inches from her throat.

“No! No, please-” Regina begged, before being suddenly interrupted by a figure bursting through the window and landing at her feet.

It was a second storey window, making it slightly more impressive.

The figure stood up straight, revealing herself to be a woman with a messy ponytail, leather jacket, sunglasses and two large daggers, one in each hand. She used them to quickly slice off the appendages protruding from his chest, freeing the other girls and causing their teacher to writhe, scream and drop Regina.

Logan and Rena grabbed her arms immediately, tugging her back to the slightly safer area.  

“Remy Starlight.” The monster hissed, in a voice that most certainly wasn’t their teacher’s. “We meet again.”

She sighed loudly, irritated, dropping one of the daggers and pulling a large needle full of dark red liquid – blood, perhaps – from her pocket.

“Unfortunately.”

Then, before anyone, even the monster, could react, she plunged the needle into his neck, injecting all of its contents with one swift move, before yanking it out and stuffing it back into one of the pockets of her jeans, looking only mildly inconvenienced.  

The monster screamed in intense pain, falling to his knees, and, a few moments later, gallons of inky black liquid gushed from their teacher’s face – a horrifying sight, honestly, some of it even splashed on the terrified teenagers. It didn’t take long for it to finally finish leaving his body, and Mr Sanders collapsed to the ground, barely conscious. Remy hardly even reacted though, slicing her palm with the dagger she still held, and letting a few drops of blood hit the bubbling pool of ink. It hissed for a few moments, before dissolving entirely, and there were a few moments of silence before she turned to the teenagers, wiping a drop of inky blood from her face with her thumb and giving all six of them a simultaneous gay crisis.

“Are you girls okay?” She asked, picking up the dropped dagger and sheathing both of them, placing a hand on her hip. “None of you were bit, right? ‘Cos that would be, like, super bad.”

Logan was the first to speak up.

“Uh… no? I don’t believe so.”

Remy nodded slowly, humming in thought, before turning to the man on the floor, watching as he began to regain consciousness.

“Jeez, Tommy, I leave you alone for less than a day and you get possessed? That’s not very ‘chosen one’ of you.”

Thomas coughed, stumbling as she helped him up. “I’m not the chosen one, remember? That’s… that’s kinda the point.” His voice was rough, and traces of the inky liquid dripped from the corners of his mouth.

He looked up at his six stunned students, giving them a rather sheepish look.

“I’m sorry for that, girls. That’s not exactly how I wanted to introduce you to this.”  

[blackcatanna]

Phoenix Wright: Rise from the Ashes OPINIONS

Greetings, Tumblrinos! I have FINALLY aquired the original Ace Attorney trilogy on PC and have just finished the first game. I didn’t have any issues with the first four cases BUT I have a lot of UNANSWERED QUESTIONS about the fifth case, which was not in the original game. There were many things I loved about it (it gave me so much delicious evidence to play with) but I feel like its long, complicated plot had a few more HOLES than I like to see in a game all about finding contradictions and I have to SHOUT MY QUESTIONS/OPINIONS TO THE GREAT TUMBLR VOID so heeeeere we go! :D SPOILERS (duh)!!!

NUMBER ONE: WHY did Gant MURDER NEIL MARSHALL?!??!?

This is never addressed in the game, which I found very odd. This case is, I think, the longest in the main series and yet it ended SO SUDDENLY?!? Gant admitted how he killed Goodman to stop him reopening the case but he never gave a motive for killing poor Marshall AND SO I am left to speculate.

Of course, we know that Gant wanted to control the prosecuters and so it’s reasonable to think that he did it purely to frame Ema and thus get Lana under his thumb. However, he states that his motive for collecting evidence against Ema was simply “insurance” in case the case was examined too closely...? Is he lying? He might lie in order to distance himself from Lana and Goodman’s murder but then he goes and confesses anyway so why would he bother to do that?

Okay, so, murdering Neil worked out pretty well for Gant. He was promoted, Lana was promoted and he had leverage over Lana AND SO it looks like Gant purely wanted to frame Ema and that’s why he killed Neil. HOWEVER, this is still WEIRD AF. 

Okay, so, in order for this to be EVEN REMOTELY PLAUSIBLE, Gant would have to be on the extreme end of murderous psychopathy. To murder your colleague who’s UNCONSCIOUS is just... It’s insane behaviour. He killed Goodman because Goodman was a threat. Marshall was just... THERE. ALSO, he’s have to be a huge hypocrite! Gant says that he did everything because he hates criminals and wants to catch them, no matter what AND YET HE LIFTS UP AN UNCONSCIOUS MAN, IMPALES HIM ON A SWORD AND PATS HIMSELF ON THE BACK FOR CONVICTING DARKE?!?! AND HE SEES NO ISSUES HERE?!?! 

Furthermore, I don’t think that any of this was necessary to convict Darke. Lana seems to think so but it looks like Marshall and Gant had pretty much cracked Darke when he made a run for it. Lana wasn’t there for the interrogation. Not sure how relevant Darke is to Gant’s motivation but it’s interesting that it’s thrown into the MOTIVATION SOUP that we’re presented with.

Therefore, it appears that Gant killed Neil because he believed that it was for the greater good: by controlling both the police and the prosecutors, he would be able to ensure that those he deemed to be guilty would be punished. Fair enough. 

Okay, so, Gant and Lana are about to crack the case. Gant states that he’s already up for his dream job. If they succeed, Lana will be able to become Head Prosecutor. SO all that Gant needs is leverage over Lana. BUT SURELY, she already admires and respects him. They’ve been partners for years. They’ve cracked many cases together. They are the dream team! Pretty sure they even have a name in game like “Dynamic Duo” or something... “Legendary Duo”, thank you, Google. Presumably, Lana trusts Gant. He could give her forged evidence or omit things and she would most likely use it without ever knowing, much like Miles Edgeworth did. 

SO, if Gant hadn’t killed Neil and framed Ema/Darke, Lana would most likely still be Queen Prosecutor and would trust Gant. So, not only did he take a HUGE RISK killing Neil (MORE ON THAT LATER), he also jeopardised the valuable relationship of trust between himself and Lana, replacing it with BLACKMAIL. Perhaps, blackmail might seem like a more solid bond to someone as TWISTED as Gant BUT there are two problems with this blackmail.

FIRSTLY, there is the possibility that the person being blackmailed will SNAP. This doesn’t seem to be a huge risk with Lana. SECONDLY, this blackmail is based on LIES. It potentially becomes USELESS if someone figures out that Ema is not responsible so he’d have to believe that he’d left no traces (so I guess we can add HUBRIS to his list of character flaws). Oh, and this brings up another problem. In order to follow through on his threats to Lana, he’d have to admit that he covered up the truth in the first place! 

Okay, so I have decided that killing Neil didn’t accomplish that much of a REWARD for Gant so let’s look at the RISK. He PICKED UP an unconscious, fully grown man without disturbing the other two unconscious people in the room or Neil himself. The building was full of people for the award ceremony, presumably. To be fair, it took place in Gant’s office and so it’s unlikely that anyone else would walk in but the office had massive windows! 

Although unlikely, the possibilty of someone else witnessing Gant’s murder definitely existed. Furthermore, there was the more likely possibility of someone IN THE ROOM regaining consciousness and catching him in the act. Darke had hit his head, but Ema had merely fainted and I can’t believe that Marshall never regained consciousness while someone cut out a segment from his waistcoat, PICKED HIM UP and SKEWERED HIM ON A SPIKE. I mean, c’mon. Even if you agree that it’s possible that he didn’t get woken up by being impaled, how would Gant be so sure that this wouldn’t happen. 

The more I talk about this, the more questions I have but I MUST SAVE THEM FOR NOW. 

Okay, so Gant walks into the room, sees three unconscious people and thinks, “Gee! I could totally do a murder right now and frame one of these people, tee-hee. OMG if I make it look like Ema did it, Lana will TOTALLY have to do what I say, like, for EVER.” So, Gant does a murder and tries to cover it up but leaves A FRIGGIN’ HUGE OBVIOUS TRAIL BEHIND HIM THAT ANY IDIOT COULD SPOT, HOLY COW. IN FACT, WE’RE GOING TO TALK ABOUT THAT NOW. 

WHY DID NOBODY QUESTION THAT THERE WAS A SQUARE CUT OUT OF MARSHALL’S WAISTCOAT??! THIS IS SO OBVIOSLY HIDING EVIDENCE!!! LANA EVEN HAD A PHOTO OF HIM WITH THE SQUARE MISSING AND A PHOTO OF HIM TAKEN MINUTES BEFORE WITH AN INTACT WAISTCOAT!!! NOBODY THOUGHT TO POINT THIS OUT?!?!?

WHY THE FLYING FUCK WOULD MARSHALL WRITE EMA’S NAME ON THE WOBBLY VASE?!?! This particular piece of evidence didn’t come to light until the current trial but it’s just so stupid! Obviously, Ema didn’t try to kill Marshall. It was an accident. Why would Marshall think, “I must not let this demon child get away with this heinous crime!” and use his last strength to do this nonsense. Furthermore, HE WAS IMPALED ON A SWORD. HE COULDN’T HAVE REACHED THE VASE. HE WAS TOTALLY SKEWERED. 

Speaking of that ugly-ass vase, did none of this top notch investigation team try and piece it together? Presumably, they did. That would bring up the question of the missing piece. Gant, you idiot! No wonder all of the investigators were suspicious. 

I guess that Gant thought he was untouchable and could just shut anything down with his authority but he made such a mess of everything that he was caught out by many people and eventually had to resort to  the ol’ Stabby Stabby just to shut people up. Gant’s supposed to be this brilliant person but he just comes across as an idiot with a TERRIBLE personality. I feel like a lot of Ace Attorney villains slip up because they’re in positions of power and think that they’re untouchable but I think that this is the stupidest one I’ve encountered so far. 

Okay, so, ASTONISHINGLY, Gant’s plan works. He gets away with THE MURDER and now it’s time for some sweet, sweet blackmail... He tells Lana that Ema will be convicted of murder if the truth gets out. Wait, WHAT??!?! HOW!? IN WHAT UNIVERSE COULD EMA BE SEEN TO BE GUILTY OF MURDER. Manslaughter, perhaps but she was acting in self defense! She pushed a guy wielding a knife. I DO NOT BUY THIS AT ALL. It seems likely to me that Lana would still co-operate because she was afraid of letting Ema know that she was responsible for Neil’s death but that seems to me to be the extent of the hold he has over Lana. Lana claims to have sold her soul for this. Does she believe that it’s worth it to spare her sister from the truth? Perhaps.

SO, IN SUMMARY, in order for this to be any kind of plausible, Gant has to be EXTREMELY SOCIOPATHIC, HUBRISTIC, HYPOCRITICAL and brimming with, my favourite, UNFATHOMABLE STUPIDITY! The UNFATHOMABLE STUPIDITY is what I have the biggest problem with. He is supposed to be SMART and CAPABLE. So are the rest of the team assigned to the serial killer case. I just, ugh... It doesn’t make sense... 

NUMBER 2 (finally): WHERE’S THE BLOOD, BITCH?

Why is there so much blood by Lana’s desk in Gant’s office? Neil died on the other side of the room AND YET there is no trace of blood to be found there! I sprayed the HECK out of that suit of armour and there was NOTHING. If Neil was skewered there, he would, PRESUMABLY have bled A LOT. Also when they UN-SKEWERED HIM. In fact, we know that he was coughing up LOADS OF BLOOD while he was skewered, thanks to Lana’s photo. SO, WHY. IS. THERE. NO. BLOOD. THERE. Presumably, Gant had the office thoroughly cleaned in the TWO YEARS since the incident but, then, why can I still see blood in Lana’s half? And surely there would have been blood traces there two years ago when this, ALLEGEDLY, UBER-COMPETANT TEAM investigated? 

Number 3: WHY THE EVERLOVING FLYING FUCK did the police decide that Goodman had been MURDERED in the evidence room?!??!

What did the police find to lead them to believe that a murder had been committed?!? They had a video showing someone dressed like Goodman entering the evidence room, followed by that annoying af megaphone guy, who got beaten up, cut on the hand and knocked unconscious. THAT’S NOT A MURDER. NOBODY DIED. THERE WAS NOTHING TO INDICATE THAT A MURDER HAD TAKEN PLACE! WHY WOULD THEY REPORT IT AS A MURDER, LET ALONE GOODMAN’S MURDER!!?!? THIS MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE!?! 

Furthermore, WHY WOULD THEY HAVE MEEKUMS DELIVER THE REPORT TO EDGEY BOY WHEN HE WAS THE ONE THEY SOMEHOW DECIDED WAS THE MURDERER?!?!? At the time, I thought that Gant sent Meekums or whatever his name was (cba to look it up because he was SO ANNOYING) because he knew that Edgeworth would ignore him because he was so annoying and he’d be able to make Edgeworth look bad in court later. But, seriously, what was even in that file? There was no murder!!! If Gant was trying to throw us off, why would he draw our attention to the evidence room and the two-year-old case?!? Whyyyyyyyy!?!?

Tbh, I have no explanation for any of this. IT DOES. NOT. COMPUTE. 

THING THE FOURTH: Why was Lana’s hand not bleeding in Angel’s photo?

Lana says that she cut her hand because she was shaking while stabbing Goodman’s corpse. YET, Angel’s photo VERY CLEARLY shows her without any injury. Angel ran down to the car park because she saw Lana stabbing Goodman. Therefore, by the time Angel took the photo, Lana must have already stabbed the guy. Also, Angel states that she saw Lana stab Goodman repeatedly and that she was wearing a muffler. So, the stabbity stabbity must have happened before the photo was taken. 

Question the Fifth: Who the Hell calls an exhaust pipe a “muffler”?!?!

Well, I just googled it and it’s something that reduces noise coming from the exhaust pipe. Yay learning!

Question the Sixth: Why did the cameras not catch Gant giving Goodman the old stabby stabby? 

Presumably, Gant erased the footage immediately after exiting the room but this was never addressed, for some reason. I guess it was already a long af case but I like details, dammit!

7: How did Gant clean up so quickly?!?

Bruce Goodman died of bloodloss. That’s A LOT of blood to clean up! He summoned Edgeworth to the room to collect the screwdriver only 20 minutes after he himself first entered the evidence room with Goodman. In those twenty minutes, he must have had the fight with Goodman, waited for him to stop bleeding, moved the body, stuffed it into Edgeworth’s trunk, found cleaning products, mopped up ALL THE BLOOD from a guy who DIED OF BLOODLOSS, hiden whatever it was that soaked up the blood (slorp), erased the video footage and somehow not got ANY BLOOD on himself and WASN’T SEEN by ANYONE stuffing a body into a car ON THE DAY OF DATA TRANSFERENCE!?!? HOW?!

8: Seriously, how many identical white detective coats are there?!?!

Marshall wears one to impersonate Goodman, Goodman is wearing one when he is MURDERED, Lana is wearing one in Angel’s photo and, weirdly, it has a bloodstain on it in the same place that Marshall’s one does. However, we can still see Marshall’s costume coat sticking out of his locker. WEIRD. 

SO YEAH

This concludes my list of puzzling things in this episode! There are probably more random things that I’ve forgotten but, in that case, they can’t be bugging me too much. What really IRKS me is the question of the “murder” in the evidence room and how UNFATHOMABLY STUPID everyone, especially Gant was 2 years ago. These two things just make the episode feel a bit incomplete to me. I admire the ambition of this episode but I feel like some things slipped through the cracks and left my brain aching for the wrong reasons.

[bewareofchris]

79. A: “Fuck you.” B: “I’m up for it if you are.” for AltMal - can be canon, Sassverse, any other AU if you'd like

R | Altmal (Sass Verse, College Years) | Assassin’s Creed | Such bad language, Implied Sexual Situations |  A: “Fuck you.” B: “I’m up for it if you are.”

Her name was Clara and she was studying.  (That was how she phrased it, with a self-deprecating laugh and her hair flipped back over her shoulder.  She wasn’t studying anything in particular, she was just studying.)  Her eyes were perfectly mud brown and her lips were as pink as the inside of a seashell.  When she laughed, she pressed her hand against her stomach like she was holding her guts in.  

Altair hadn’t come up to the bar to talk to her.  He’d come up to order a drink, and maybe one more.  He’d needed the buzz just to get back to the table.  Just to make the exhausting process of putting up with a collection of idiot intellectuals bearable.  He hadn’t meant to stay, but there was Clara looking as frazzled as him with two shots sitting in front of her on the bar.

“So,” Clara said long after they’d given up the pretense of leaving and settled on stools at the end of the bar.  She was twisting her hair around her fingers, “you’re not a student.  You just like hanging out at college bars?”

“My boyfriend is a student.”  Altair pointed a thumb over his shoulder, back toward the table overflowing with real educational elitists.  It would be hypocritical of him to say he hated a snob; he was dating a snob and he was a snob to a certain degree.  It was just that Malik was tolerable because he put so much fucking effort into knowing everything. 

The snobs at the table were morons, boasting regurgitated facts like they’d thought them up themselves.  It didn’t matter that it was an empty argument.  It didn’t matter that they were dropping fat words into conversation with all the skill of a toddler, it just mattered that there was the pretense of an argument.  Malik couldn’t stand the pretense of an argument.  

“Which one?” Clara asked.  She dipped to the side to look.  “There’s a lot of guys behind you.”

“Dark hair, one arm,” Altair said without turning around.  

“Oh!” Clara sat up straight again.  “I’ve seen him.”  Her nose wrinkled up in a momentary grimace.  The reaction was too honest to be faked and she followed it up by taking a drink of the beer she’d ordered.  “He seems...”

Altair rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand and smiled.  He watched her squirm her way through thinking up something that wouldn’t be too terrible to say.

“Well,” she started again, “I’m sure he’s lovely when you get to know him.”  Then she took another drink before jumping to a new conversation: “So, are you from around here?”

“No.  I’m just here for him.”

Clara snorted at that.  “Seems like a lot of work for a guy.”  She was leading up to something, getting ready to make suggestions and then her whole face changed.  She leaned back with a startled noise and her hand dropping off the counter so quickly anyone would have thought it burned her.  “He’s coming over here.”

Altair didn’t look behind him.  He just picked up the last of his shots and tipped it into his mouth.  The buzz was wearing thin enough and Malik wasn’t going to have anything remotely pleasant to say when he got here.  

“Hi,” Malik said.  God bless Lamah for trying.  She must have tried to teach Malik the important of being polite.  The best she’d managed was to teach him to go through the motions of it.  Malik greeted the people he met; it was just that he couldn’t hide his complete and utter distaste for them.  

“Hi,” Clara said.  She smiled but she didn’t mean it.  It was the look you gave a man that you couldn’t save.  Clara could walk away now, but Altair couldn’t.  “Its time for me to go.”

Malik stood there without speaking, watching her slide off the bar stool and scoot past him.  When she was gone, he turned to look at Altair with a raised eyebrow and said, “she left her beer.”

“I think she was done,” Altair said.  “You ready to go?”

Malik considered the question, and the beer that had gotten left behind.  He looked at Altair and the line of empty shot glasses (it wasn’t that many) and then said, “fine.”

Fine did not answer the question that had been asked.  Fine wasn’t even the answer that Malik had wanted to give.  Fine was a placeholder for the screaming that was echoing through his boyfriend’s skull.  

“Do I need to pay for everyone’s drinks?” he asked.  

“You said you would.”

Altair had offered, and he’d been met with a great round of empty protests.  It didn’t matter to him that he was paying for the drinks, it mattered that Malik was walking away.  It mattered that he was being dismissed (again).  He was left behind so his boyfriend could go crush the inflated egos of idiots just to make himself feel smarter.  “You’re welcome,” he mumbled to himself, and the bar, and the liquor-scented air.  

By the time they made it outside, the buzz that had been meant to make him feel better was twisting up ugly and mean in his gut.  He wasn’t a mean drunk by normal standards.  It was just Malik that drove him crazy.  

Malik who wasn’t even talking to him.  Malik who wasn’t even pretending to want to talk to him.  No his boyfriend was pretending the opposite.  He’d managed to say good-bye to the idiots, and follow Altair to the car, and get in the fucking car without ever once seeming to acknowledge he wasn’t alone.  How the fuck he could sit in the passenger seat of a moving vehicle acting like he was alone in it was a mystery.  

One of them was going to have to speak first.  One of them was going to have to start the stupid fight.  Altair could have done it, he could have said how Clara was nobody.  He could have reminded Malik that he was too smart to debate college morons.  He could have told him how small, and how insignificant their opinions felt to him.  He could have pointed out that Malik didn’t like the morons either. 

No his boyfriend was just using them to fluff his own ego.

Altair could have just opened his mouth and Malik would have started shouting.  

But there they sat, in silence, from the bar to their driveway.

Malik’s silence had an abrasive quality to it.  His silence was judgmental.  It reminded you of everything you’d ever done wrong.  It accused you of things you hadn’t done, because it knew that you had wanted to do them.  Malik’s silence was as bad as his shouting, or worse, because you couldn’t rebut what wasn’t said.

“Oh, fuck you,” Altair said.  He pulled the keys out of the ignition and moved to shove open the door.  He was all set to call the whole fucking night a failure and send himself to sleep on the couch.

“I’m up for it,” Malik said.  There he sat, in the passenger seat, boiling in his own anger, looking at Altair like he’d just been waiting for the offer.  He didn’t even wait for a reply, he just pushed open the passenger door and got out.

Altair’s whole body was vibrating with anger, and lust, and stupidity.  He was furious, and insulted, and hurt.  (And guilty, and not-quite-drunk.)  As soon as the front door slammed shut behind them he shoved Malik against the wall.  

Malik didn’t go easily, he didn’t give the way he usually did.  His hand was digging into Altair’s chest, shoving him back.  His body was arching off the wall out of sync.  His teeth were bare and his skin was flushed red.  “I don’t think so,” he growled.

When he couldn’t shove Altair away he grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled.  Malik’s anger was always petty.  It was as sharp as his teeth on Altair’s throat.  Malik’s knee shoved it’s way between Altair’s thighs, he crowded so close there was no space to stand.  

It wasn’t worth fighting; these sorts of things never were.  Altair dropped his hands down to his waist; he loosened his belt and his button and his zipper.  When his pants were sagging off his hips, he reached forward to grab at Malik’s.  “Fuck,” he gasped at the bruised-red spots of pain Malik’s mouth was leaving.

“Do you have lube?” Malik asked.  He took a step forward and Altair took a step back.  There was a couch somewhere nearby, a chair and the floor.  It didn’t matter where they landed, so long as they landed with supplies.  Malik didn’t even seem to care about his own question, he didn’t seem to care about anything at all.  He was shoving his own pants off now that Altair had undone them.  

“Why would I carry lube?” Altair asked.

Malik’s expression called him a whore, but he was kind enough not to say it out loud.  No, he just yanked down the zipper of his jacket with an air of annoyance and dropped it off to the side.  “How do you expect to fuck without it?”

Altair didn’t expect to fuck outside of his house.  There was no good answer to the question, but there were better answers than, “you think I’d need lube to fuck Clara?  You think I couldn’t make her wet enough?”

“You think I couldn’t fuck that whole table if I wanted to?” Malik asked.  He slid closer, with a smile as mean as a snake, his voice was low and promising.  “I bet they had lube in their pockets.  I bet they would have been so eager to please.”  His hand was down between them, pushing into Altair’s pants to palm at his dick.  “You think I didn’t want to?”

Altair’s eyes fluttered closed, and his head fell forward.  He was pushing his forehead against Malik’s, feeling where the tips of their got caught between them.  His breath was loud, and wet through his teeth.  Every thought he had was pure violence.  His hands were hovering because they couldn’t touch without hurting.  “We have to stop going to that fucking bar,” he said through his teeth.

For once, for the first time, Malik didn’t protest.  

Altair kissed him before he could change his mind.  He wrapped his arms around Malik and crushed them together.  They were idiots, stumbling in place, half-dressed and furious.  After a while, hurting each other lost it’s appeal.  There was nothing good or fun about it.  “Are we fucking?” he asked.

“Yes,” Malik said.  He shook Altair’s arms off and grabbed his hand to pull him through the house to the bedroom.

[salty-medley]

Winx Club ? - updated -

Even if I’m not really fond of it, I still like it way more than trendy recent cartoons like SVTFOE, Steven Universe or MLP, especially the season 1 with it’s really old 2000′s vibe. But aside the whole cringe of this show, there’s few things which really annoy me.

The fact lot of fans were angry when Layla/Aisha had few other relationships after Nabu’s death.

I mean she didn’t jump on the first guy during the next episode. There was a quite long ( we don’t have a precise calendar, it’s not one episode = a day, sometimes we had few days or even weeks in a single episode ) time where she was sad and it was normal. And her relation with Roy didn’t start easily, she wasn’t pleased to have him helping them. Just like Nabu in fact. It’s a thing with Layla, she doesn’t trust so easily, which is a quite good thing. Ok, she’s with Nex now. So what ? You can realize that you’re not so happy with someone and find someone else. It’s not a crime.

And for people who want her to stay alone forever, do you really think that Nabu would like to see her sad and alone ? Death is a part of life, and only controlative and self-centered assholes wants their significant other to remain alone like that. Being with someone else after the loss of your SO does not mean that you don’t love him/her anymore, just that you accept the fact you never will be together. You still can cherish your memories and keep that person in your heart.

Now read before commenting as I won’t spend my day explaining that over and over: I refer to comments about the AMOUNT of guys . Any other reply to this peculiar point which won’t be related to that fact will be deleted and the author blocked. And, no, I don’t believe that making a character with a lighter/darker/other color changed palette can be considered as racism. Just as I don’t believe that choosing Nabu as a victim was racism. He was just the new guy and the only one who was only a magician , which mean less protected. You have a problem with that ? Good for you. But that’s not mine. Just like I said in comments, trolls and SJWs aren’t welcome here as I don’t like people who use a serious topic for anything and basically make it loose its meaning.Keep your conspiracy theories for your own space.

The fact some people prefer to see Musa with a guy who obviously doesn’t respect her than alone or with somebody else.

What else could I say ? Riven isn’t a monster, but he isn’t respectful. He can be a great friend but their couple didn’t work. So it’s better for them to stop. It was a quite mature decision to do it.

The fact people still defend Diaspro.

I agree that in season 1 Diaspro was quite right. Sky was a coward who never told her that he didn’t want to be with her, and Bloom, who didn’t know that Sky was like that, attacked her for a reason she probably didn’t understood. But after the season 2 where she talked about that with Flora and Chatta, I still understand that she could be angry but not that she’ll keep trying to get him. That’s just stupid and ridiculous. And unhealthy to be obsessed at that point with someone. It’s not a prince she needs, but a psy. And a good slap.

Plus I can’t believe that some of the persons who defend her as the ones who said that Musa and Riven were unhealthy. So trying to hurt and kill someone, and accepting to help an evil wizard, just to bring back a guy who never loved you is a good thing ? Bullshit.

The fact people still can’t see that Roxy was a believix fairy.

Each damn transformation has codes, a peculiar look. Just look at her, it’s a believix. And if I remember even the Rainbow said it in a game on their website, she was described as a believix fairy. I know it’s not logical as she obviously never transformed before but in Winx club the look is always a hint, unlike the lore which is modified when they want. 

The fact they always try to make the witches ridiculous.

They are showed as ugly, tacky, mean but not powerful. Wich should be the opposite as their magic is based on negative emotions and, regarding to all the hate the fandoms can have, having negative emotions is a lot easier than positive ones. Witches shoud be extremely powerful and dangerous, and not only throwing small colored light balls. 

The fact the winx are always overnumbered during fights.

The Trix are three.The winx are six. See the problem here ? And I don’t even count the specialists, Faragonda & cie, the other students and allies...

When the Trix had an army they SUMMONED it. It needed energy. 

But even like that the winx still struggle to beat them... 

The fact the winx were more powerful in season 1.

During the last episode of season 1 Bloom released her energy and basically stop the whole fight with a wave of fire/dragon energy. WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T SHE DO THAT AGAIN ? 

The fact lot of fans hate Bloom.

I know she can be boring as hell... Especially after the season 1. She totally losts her personality to fit in the mold. But why ? Maybe it’s because her best friend is obsessed by fashion and trends don’t you think ? Maybe it’s because she has a boyfriend who’s constantly harassed by a crazy ex and because she tries to be the best to please him ? Ok it’s not the best thing to do in that situation as it was what she was in season 1 which attracted him but who said that they are intelligent ? 

Bloom was a random weird girl, bullied by the popular girl of her school, treated by her parents as a baby because she was into fairy tales and suddenly she happen to know that she’s a princess, that her parents are considered as dead, just like her whole kingdom, that her older sister sacrified herself to protect her and that her spirit still guides her, that the mean trio who stole her new best friend’s ring want her power, attack her earth family, destroy Magix and the schools. She had to explore a frozen and hostile planed, to win a war. And it was her first year.

Don’t tell me that you can’t understand why she became like that, she tried her best to fit in this world and be the heiress she is. 

The adoration for Flora.

I mean... You guys find Bloom boring but not Flora ? Are you that blind or just hypocritical ?

Flora is a cheesy scaredy cat and a crybaby. She’s supposed to be the second more powerful but always only uses flower or petals and not other nature things. Her only real passion is gardening. Don’t tell me that she’s not boring. I guess that if Flora was in Bloom’s role you’ll hate her as much.

The fact they put all the girls in couple.

Like, being single is bad ? Being single isn’t better or worst than being in couple. You don’t always need someone to be happy. Same for the fact there’s only straight couples, a show can have lot of different couples, it won’t shock the kids.

The fact they are almost ALWAYS  wearing high heels.

Even for sport and beach. That’s just ridiculous. 

The fact they always grunt or scream during battles.

No specialists, you don’t need to yell “Yaaaah” each time you attack. Same for the girls. Just shut up and fight.

The fact Stella became only the fairy of the sun.

I could understand they she choose one side more than the other as she’s mostly with her father and he’s obviously the sun. But it would need explanations, they could show us her hesitation, how she changed her magic. And why.

The fact that people still see Darcy x Riven as a spell.

Ok it was a manipulation, ok she used him. But she seemed really interested by him, and maybe it wouldn’t end like this if her “sisters” weren’t here. I noticed that most of the time it’s the two others who destroy their other one’s couple, it was like that with Tritannus and Icy too. And for Riven is really seemed into Darcy, which is logical as she isn’t as cheesy as the winx.