#you could be ugly to everyone else (I promise you aren’t) but if you have a good PERSONALITY?

[nogenderonlychair]

Does anyone actually only like people for their personality. Cause ill look at an actor and be like “meh.” Then ill see that the character they play is actually super cool and really nice and also has common sense and then I’m like “okay okay they are moderately attractive. I can hear some of y’all out on them.” AND THEN I watch interviews with them in it about the show, read articles including them, and then I reach the point where I’m watching and reading things SPECIFICALLY about them (not the show) and then I’m at the stage where “OKAY That’s MY SPOUSE and this is THE MOST ATTRACTIVE person I have EVER SEEN in my LIFE I would DIE for them.”

[coco-loco-nut]

Father’s Day

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: max is dating an international star

a/n: i literally had this idea last night and had to write a short blurb, i promise i am writing other stuff tho 🫶

masterlist

————————

y/username happy father’s day, daddy. i love you and your big…

maxverstappen1 anything to share with me?

y/username not pregnant, just letting everyone know how turned on you get me

maxverstappen1 love you too, schat

user12 anyone else not getting it, like she is so hot and he is 😬

y/username you know that one barbie scene with the rock? that’s my maxie. also if you think he’s ugly, that’s fine, more of him for me 😍

user98 Y/N BARBIE FAN CONFIRMED

y/username priority 1: old barbie movies priority 2: max

user3 ON THE MAIN?

user33 PR monster got her, I really wanna know what she was about to say

recordlabel we don’t… we actually want bleach for our eyes

redbullracing we will share our bleach if you send us demos of her next album 👀

charlesleclerc Go on, finish the sentence, I dare you.

y/username his big heart, ego, ass, trophy case, therapy bill from childhood trauma, i could keep going on but i don’t want to make you feel emasculated

user62 okay, but like how did he bag her?

y/username he has incredible rizz, and look at him🤤

“Happy Father’s Day, Maxie,” you grin as Max lays on you lap, looking up at you with his beautiful blue eyes.

“You aren’t pregnant, Schat,” he laughs, your fingertips gently scratching his scalp.

“We could change that, get some practice in for after the wedding?” you watch his eyes widen as he quickly sits up.

“Practice makes perfect, why don’t we practice now?” Max suggests, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

Your wedding is small, only some close friends and family in attendance. The ceremony takes place in your backyard, no reception beyond a dinner afterwards.

Despite both your respective fame levels, you didn’t want anyone knowing of the marriage. Fans still thought you were dating, so when you got a positive pregnancy test, you were extra careful.

Max was grateful that you had a private recording studio in the house, for when you needed to drop the album. You didn’t mean to choose the surprise drop date to be at the end of your pregnancy, nor Father’s Day, but life worked in funny ways.

“Happy Father’s Day, Maxie,” you softly say, handing the little bundle off to Max.

“This is the best present, he’s beautiful,” Max hold back tears as he holds his son close to his chest.

“I’m not sure if I will be able to top this next year,” you laugh a little, your tiredness making an apparent after a long labor.

“You should take a nap, I’ll be okay with him,” Max runs a hand though your sweaty hair. To him, you’ve never looked more perfect.

“I have one thing to do first,” you yawn, pulling out your phone. Max slides into the hospital bed beside you, you immediately nestle into him, his warmth enveloping you.

instagram

y/username SURPRISE! midnight rain is out now! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it for the past four years. There is so much in my life that happened, so enjoy my journey through heartbreak, love, and growth. I want to quickly thank Max and my team for making this possible 💙

user1 AHHH this is so good, but didn’t she and Max break up? Why is she thanking him?

user3 dude, i think they are married, did you listen to everything else

user4 yeah, she had some songs about marriage, but she hasn’t been at any races since last year

user10 did y’all see the statement saying there won’t be a tour for the album?? crying in the club

user11 Okay, but Robin?? secret child??

maxverstappen1 endlessly proud of you, schatje

user5 we get it bro, she wrote Dress and The Alchemy about you

maxverstappen1 our little robin decided to hatch 💙

danielricciardo So happy for you and Y/n, mate. Big day for the Verstappen family, can’t wait to hold the little guy!

y/username he will love his Uncle Danny

y/username he’s perfect, just like his daddy

redbullracing what a gift for father’s day! sending our gift to you 💙

user42 guys, y/n’s song credits changed…

user21 OMG MAX AND Y/N ARE MARRIED AND THEY HAVE A KID???

[dr5amatic]

THE AGONY OF UNMADE DECISIONS ,

a sentence starter prompts list comprised of quotes from the novel if we were villains by m.l. rio. please be advised that this list may involve topics including, but not limited to, murder, death, and violence. change verbiage as needed.

why are you here? you should know by now i’m not going to tell you anything.

seems safer to let sleeping dogs lie.

it must eat you alive, not knowing. not knowing who, not knowing how, not knowing why.

you’ve kept your secrets all this time. it would drive anyone else crazy. why do it?

want to come out for a smoke? might help you relax.

your time will come to be the tragic hero.

let’s go skinny-dipping! i haven’t been swimming all summer.

seems like just yesterday my dad was shouting at me for throwing my life away.

you can’t do good work if you’re hiding, so we’re going to get all of the ugliness out in the open.

if you haven’t made any enemies in life, you’ve been living too safely.

you make a surprisingly convincing villain.

i know what you’re doing. you’re baiting me.

i don’t know about you, but i want to get cleaned up and go to bed and pretend this didn’t happen for like at least eight hours.

i think we were all fucked up from the start.

you promised me you wouldn’t say a word, so don’t.

i’m sorry, what the fuck just happened?

you know, people aren’t going to put up with your bullshit for much longer.

you’re probably the only person he’d listen to.

where’ve you been all night?

i was making the rounds for a while, but i got overwhelmed and snuck upstairs to do some reading.

i’m done with this fucking party, with all of them down there. what do you want?

why don’t you just tell me what happened? no performance. no poetics.

we can’t just stand around arguing about how it happened, we have to do something.

look, i know you have a pathological need to play the hero, but right now you need to stop and ask yourself if that’s really what’s best for everyone.

someone’s dead and you don’t know where you were?

before last night, everything was fine.

i care about you, and what might happen if you carry on like this.

he wasn’t an easy person to like, but he was an easy person to love.

what do you do? ignore your grief, or indulge in it?

maybe every day we let grief in, we’ll also let a little bit of it out, and eventually we’ll be able to breathe again.

i’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.

it doesn’t add up. we’re missing something.

you look like you might need someone to carry you.

i’m going to bed unless you’ve got something to say.

i’ve had enough of your sexual misadventures for one year, thanks.

it’s fucking freesing and i’m not leaving you out here alone.

when did we become such terrible people?

why don’t we get a drink or something? just us. i can’t think straight with everyone watching like we’re a reality show.

i just–maybe it’s because you’re you, and i mean, look at you–but i don’t understand. why me? i’m nobody.

you know, everyone calls you ‘nice,’ but that’s not the word. you’re good. you’re so good you have no idea how good you are.

we carry on as usual, or they’re going to want to ask all kinds of questions we don’t want to answer.

are you going to cold-shoulder me all night?

what’s gotten into you? you don’t sound like yourself.

you’re smarter than this. 

i’m not keeping any more secrets for you.

you can justify anything if you do it poetically enough.

you’re just going to leave me?

i think hell may have frozen over.

when you enter the theatre, there are three things you must leave at the door: dignity, modesty, and personal space.

anything can feel like punishment if you’re taught poorly.

you can’t quantify humanity. you can’t measure it–not the way you mean to. people are passionate and flawed and fallible. they make mistakes. their memories fade. their eyes deceive them.

i want so badly to be so mad at you that i could kill you, but i can’t, so i’m mad at myself instead. do you even understand how unfair that is?

i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i want to hurt the whole world.

why don’t you sit, and i’ll pour tea?

he was my friend—much more than that, truthfully—and that was enough. i didn’t need to know why.

can i help? i still–i want to help.

let me put myself back together and then i’ll come find you.

it’s like i look at you and suddenly the sonnets make sense.

tell me you didn’t do it.

i never wanted you to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.

we have to go back and act like nothing’s wrong. we’ve got to get through tonight, and then we’ll worry about it. all right?

you know, it’s not too late if there’s another version of the truth you want to tell me.

will you rest easier with one less mystery on your mind?

you were real to me. sometimes i thought you were the only real thing.

[daydreamingyuta]

Mark Comforting You About Your Stretch Marks

a/n: I know this can be a touchy subject so don’t read if you can’t <3 I do want to say, your body is beautiful!! And I hope that you don’t let anybody (including yourself) make you feel any different! All bodies are beautiful and all bodies are lovely <3 don’t forget to give yourself the same grace and kindness that you give to others! wc: 586

You had been dreading this since you and Mark had begun dating. You had been insecure about your stretch marks ever since you first noticed them. Although you've grown more fond of them over the years, for some reason you always expected everyone else to think negatively about them.

The thing was, when you saw other people's stretch marks, you never thought twice about them. You saw them as completely normal and beautiful even, loving when people embraced them rather than hide them. However, when it came to yours, you didn't think such thoughts could be offered to you.

That's why, when Mark saw your stretch marks, the tears welled up in your eyes immediately out of embarrassment. You two had been cuddling on the couch watching a movie, when his hand had accidentally lifted your shirt up a tiny bit and exposed them. Mark had felt the contrast in skin texture and out of habit, looked down.

You immediately pull your shirt down and tense up but Mark doesn't know anything is wrong until he sees the tears in your eyes. "Baby, hey what's wrong?"

You didn't say anything at first, how could you explain to him an insecurity that you never wanted him to see, even though you knew he was going to eventually.

"Did I do something wrong?" He says, stroking your cheeks trying to wipe the tears away but they just keep coming. You shake your head at him, the last thing you want is for him to think he’s the reason you are upset. "Please tell me what's wrong, y/n."

"It's just my stretch marks, I know they're so bad." You say, unable to make eye contact with him, your voice breaking.

Mark understood now, he had felt them but didn't think twice about them. “Hey, your stretch marks aren’t bad, ok?" He says taking your hand in his. "They’re a part of you. How could any part of you be bad?"

“I just hate them, I feel like they’re ugly.” You say as you feel Mark squeeze your hand.

“Nothing about you could ever be ugly.” He says as he kisses you on the forehead. “Trust me, please.” He begs. The look in his eyes is so serious, you know he’s telling the truth. "You are the most beautiful person to me, I mean that with all my heart, y/n. I know that my words may not make you feel better right now but I promise that I will make you feel beautiful every day because my pretty girl deserves nothing less."

He had hoped his words would calm you down, but you started to cry even more. He thought he must have said something wrong so when he started to apologize you stopped him. “Mark, you didn’t say anything wrong, just… thank you for being so nice to me.”

Mark looks at you with the softest eyes and nothing but love for you in his heart. “Babyy” he says in a low voice as he holds you in his arms. You feel his lips press against your temple and you can’t help but feel so lucky that you're with somebody like Mark. 

“Every single part of you is beautiful, ok? Can you believe that for me baby?” You nod your head at him and he gives you a sweet smile. Maybe you didn’t fully believe that right now, but if you knew anything about Mark, he was going to make sure you felt beautiful every single day.

[forest-hashira]

Day Off

hi everyone! this is my first request fic for @ficsforgaza, requested by the lovely @yutaleks! he asked for a day off with maki + flustering her a little. as i tend to do, i got carried away, so this is over 2k words instead of being a 500-700 word drabble, whoops. i hope you guys enjoy!

read on ao3 | wc: ~2.1k | cw: no pronouns used for reader but sort of implied fem!reader, fluff, maki & reader spend the day at the arcade

“Kugisaki, come on, Maki’s waiting for us!”

You’d been knocking on your classmate’s door for over five minutes, and that was after you’d spent ten minutes trying to get her to answer her phone. You’d both agreed to meet Maki at the entrance to campus, since it was the weekend and none of you had a mission to complete, but now your fellow first year was apparently ghosting you.

“Go away!” she shouted from within her dorm, not bothering to open the door. “I look awful! Itadori fucked up my hair, I can’t be seen in public like this!”

An exasperated groan escaped you, your head thumping against the door; there was no use arguing with her, and you knew it. It would be a miracle if anyone saw her out of her room for the next six business days. “Fushiguro and I told you not to let him near your hair with bleach.” Yuji meant well, he always did, but when the words “I’ve never done this, but how hard could it be?” had left his lips, Nobara should have thought twice.

Whatever. She was dealing with the consequences of her decision now.

“I’m going to meet Maki now,” you told her, already stepping back from the door. “I’ll see if I can find you a hat that goes with your uniform while we’re out.”

“Don’t you dare get me something ugly!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Already running late, you hurried out of the dorm building and down to the torii gates, where your senpai was waiting, phone in hand. You called out to her, waving as you jogged over to meet her.

She looked up at the sound of your voice, glancing behind you and arching a brow when she realized you were alone. “Where’s Kugisaki?” 

“Not coming,” you sighed. “She thought it would be a good idea to let Itadori help her touch up her roots last night.”

The expression she made in response was borderline comical, her nose crinkling up and her brows furrowing together as she frowned. “What made her think that?”

“No idea, Fushiguro and I both told her not to but she didn’t listen.” You shrugged slightly, stepping past Maki to make your way off campus. “I promised I’d buy her a hat while we’re out.” You made it down the first couple steps that lead off campus before you realized she wasn’t following you, and you paused.

“Aren’t you coming?” you asked, turning to face her.

“We’ve never gone anywhere without her,” she replied, glancing back in the direction of the dorms for a moment.

You arched a brow slightly. “What, you afraid I’ll bite without Kugisaki around to keep me in check?” 

Maki turned back to face you as you spoke, and when she saw your cheeky grin, she rolled her eyes. “If either of you needs to be kept in check it’s her.” Finally, she walked forward to join you, and you made your way down the stairs side by side. “Just feels weird leaving her behind, is all.” 

“A little bit, yeah,” you hummed in agreement. “But without her here, we don’t have to spend all day shopping. We can go somewhere else for once.”

“Like where?”

There was a brief silence as you took a moment to consider her question. Your first thought was the movies, but you were fairly certain that was where Yuji had dragged the others for the day, so you reconsidered. “The arcade?”

Maki looked as if she was going to argue, so you were quick to keep talking. 

“Come on, it’ll be a good time! I’m really good at the claw machines, I’ll win you something nice.” Your words were punctuated by you batting your lashes at your senpai. “Besides, I’m sure you’d smoke all those lame high scores on the dance games.”

The look she gave you was confused, though when you batted your lashes at her, she quickly looked away, picking up her pace a little, getting a few steps ahead of you before you fully noticed. “Fine,” she agreed. “We’ll go to the arcade, but only if you can keep up with me the whole way there.” 

She paused when she reached the bottom of the stairs, glancing at you with a smirk tugging at her lips. “Ready?” she asked, but before you were able to give a response, she took off in the direction of the arcade – not at her top speed, but certainly faster than you could maintain over that much distance.

“That’s cheating!” you shouted after her, smiling despite your irritation as you raced after her, eager to catch up with her. 

You did manage to catch up with her eventually, but only because she had reached the arcade first and was waiting for you.

“Your speed could use a little work, y’know,” she teased, smirking down at you as you braced your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath.

“Screw you, Maki,” you groused, lifting your head enough to glare at her, though the effect was lost because of your breathless state. “Sorry we’re not all gifted like you are.”

She laughed at your words, giving a slight shrug. “Guess you’re right,” she agreed, then tilted her head towards the doors of the arcade. “Shall we?”

Having finally caught your breath, you stood upright again and nodded, walking into the building with your schoolmate. You looked around for a moment, trying to spot the claw machines. After a moment, you noticed them along the back wall. “C’mon!” you said, beaming at Maki as you grabbed her hand and pulled her after you.

“Wha— where are we going?” she asked, stumbling for a step as she went with you.

“I’m showing you my claw machine skills!” Your bright smile had yet to fade, and you stopped once you reached the wall of claw machines. “Pick one.”

“Huh?”

“Pick a machine,” you repeated. “And then pick a prize. I’m gonna win it for you.”

Maki looked skeptical, but when your earnest expression didn’t change, she finally turned to look at the array of claw machines. Most of them held various kinds of plushies, one looked like it held some gaming consoles, or something, but one, tucked away in the corner, seemed to be full of rhinestone bedazzled accessories, including a denim newsboy-style cap. “You said you were gonna get Kugisaki a hat, right?”

Following her gaze, you also saw the hat in the claw machine, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god, yes! She’s gonna hate it, I have to get it for her.” You hurried over to the machine, wanting to make sure you would be the one to claim the prize you were after. You examined the placement of the cap in the machine for a few moments, leaning around the sides of the machine as much as you could to get a good look. Once you were satisfied, you fished the coins out of your bag, sliding them into the slot.

A grin broke out across your face as it beeped to life, but once you had control of the claw, your focus sharpened, zeroing in on the cap. Maki was a little shocked to see the focus that came over you, and she watched in amazement as you carefully maneuvered the claw over the cap, picked it up, and deposited it in the prize basket on your first try.

“Damn,” she said, grinning when she saw the cap in your hands. “Maybe you do have some claw machine skills.” 

“I have mad claw machine skills, thank you very much,” you corrected. “I’ll prove it to you again later by winning you a prize, but right now I believe you promised me a round on the dance games.” You tucked the hat into your bag as you spoke, not wanting to lose track of it.

“I made no such promise, and you know it,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Hmm, do I?” you asked, feigning innocence as you tapped your chin, as if in thought. “I definitely remember you promising me a dance off, so let’s go!” 

Once again, you grabbed her hand to drag her across the arcade to the dance games, and once again, you missed the way her eyes widened and the tips of her eyes went a faint shade of pink. 

The Dance Dance Revolution machines – two of them, side by side and both unoccupied at the moment – weren’t far from the claw machines, and you grinned when you reached them. “Alright,” you said, shooting Maki a grin, a glint in your eye. “Time to see how your skills translate to this.” 

Releasing her hand, you stepped up onto one of the platforms, scrolling through songs for a moment as your upperclassman stared at you like you had spontaneously grown a second head. You turned over your shoulder when you realized she wasn’t on the other machine yet. “C’mon, Maki, please? Just one song, then you can go back to being boring.” When she still seemed reluctant, you batted your lashes at her. “You’ll probably kick my ass. Don’t you want bragging rights?”

Though your words were partially meant as a joke, they seemed to do the trick. Maki rolled her eyes at you, but she had a hint of a smile on her lips, and the tips of her ears still burned a light pink. “Okay, fine. One song. And I’m definitely going to wipe the floor with you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her words, throwing your head back for a moment before returning to the task of finding a song. Eventually you picked one of the songs ranked “medium” in difficulty, and once you were both ready, you clicked start.

At first, it looked like Maki might have to eat her words about wiping the floor with you, having a rather unceremonious start and missing the first several steps almost entirely while you got most of them on beat. She was quick to recover though, getting a feel for both the game and the song, landing every step perfectly on beat, not missing a single one for the rest of the song, and she didn’t even seem to be breaking a sweat.

She was annihilating you, and you barely managed to keep from watching her instead of trying to keep up. In the end, she was right: she did wipe the floor with you, her score almost twice what yours was. 

“That was fun,” she said, turning to you with a grin of her own. “Wanna go again? I wanna try one of the harder songs.”

You felt like your eyes were going to bug out of your head. “I think I’ll pull a muscle if I try to keep up with a harder song. But I’d love to see you smash it.” As you spoke, you stepped off the platform for your machine, not wanting to hog it if someone else wanted to play.

“Embarrassed?” she teased, narrowing her eyes playfully at you. “I gave you a warning, you can’t be mad at me.”

“Not embarrassed,” you corrected. “Practical. Because as much as I would love to be your damsel in distress, I doubt you want to carry me back to campus, and it would be embarrassing as hell to explain to Shoko that I hurt myself playing a video game.”

It was Maki’s turn to laugh then, her ponytail swishing as she shook her head at you. “Fine, fine,” she conceded. “Pick a song for me, whatever difficulty you wanna throw at me.” She shot you a wink, and you quickly looked towards the game screen to hide your burning cheeks.

After a few moments of clicking through to the higher difficulty songs, you eventually picked the hardest one, just to see if Maki would be able to keep up. As the countdown for the song began, you stepped back, eager to watch how everything was going to unfold. Like before, it took a moment for her to get into the rhythm of the song, but unlike the first song, it only took her about three seconds to get into it.

Watching her move was fascinating. Sure, you’d seen her fight gracefully in training and on missions, but this was different; this was fun, and it came across in the way her body moved to the beat. You couldn’t help but cheer in excitement as she got a particularly quick, tricky set of steps all in a row, your cheeks beginning to ache from how wide you were grinning as you watched her. 

Soon enough, the song was over, and Maki had unsurprisingly claimed the top score for it. She turned back to you with a smirk, her expression brightening slightly when she saw your lingering excitement. “I think I want you to win me something from the claw machine for winning that.”

“Anything you want.”

this was my first time writing for maki, so i hope she doesn't seem too ooc. either way i had a lot of fun, thank you so much for requesting this aleks! i hope this fulfills your expectations 💜

taglist: @mitsuristoleme @sugurei @peachdues @ghost-1-y @witchbybirth

@marinnnnnnnnn @dr-runs-with-scissors @entirelysein-e @yutaleks @ficsforgaza

divider credit to the ficsforgaza blog

[chaoticbardlady99]

Lethal Woman: Chapter 8 (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: You and Astarion have many misadventures while going back through the Blighted Village. Someone from your past makes a gruesome reappearance and reveals they are hunting Astarion. You and Astarion inadvertently confess to each other that there is, in fact, something between the two of you.

CW: Violence, gore, fighting, alcohol, Gnome racism (I don’t hate Gnomes I promise- just Dwarves because the All Hammer killed one of my favorite DND characters), torture, mentions of emotional, psychological, and physical abuse.

Chapter 9

Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Thank you for everyone who has been reading my little passion project!

Tracing your steps back through the blighted village was more eventful than any of you anticipated.

For one- you and Astarion stumbled upon an Ogre and Bug Bear couple (literally) bumping uglies. Astarion had insisted that he open it and you were really hoping it wasn’t what you thought it was. Considering your luck- you weren’t surprised they were fucking, but then they tried to kill you. So you had to ruin the party while the rest of your companions explored the other abandoned buildings while you and Astarion were trying to avoid being covered in various bodily fluids.

Second, Karlach informs you she befriended three massive ogres and they said they’ll send their aid when you “toot this little horn thing”. Then she gave you the news that they don’t promise NOT to eat you. You quickly convinced her to give it to you- you love your tiefling kindred spirit, but her impulse control is terrible sometimes.

Arguably the third incident may be the worst. Karlach had rejoined the other group when Wyll called her over so it was just the two of you again. You had attempted to help a deep Gnome by killing the Goblins that were terrorizing him- much to Astarion’s dismay.

Well, when the Gnome told you to stop the damn thing- you went inside thinking it would be one lever. It was TWO and they said what they each did IN COMMON. YOU CAN’T READ COMMON! And when you asked Astarion to pull the right lever- he had a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Consider the right level pulled, Darling.”

Needless to say, the only positive of that event was the hysterical cackling that erupted from your lover’s mouth as he fell to the ground- unable to contain himself until at least 10 minutes after the Gnome you promised to rescue became airborne and gained his Gnomeish wings. You had looked at Astarion and leered at him playfully.

“You are so mean,” you said while castigating him, trying not to let your love of his genuine laughter get in the way of basic morals, “that is not what I asked you to do at all!”

You are so glad no one else was around for that. Wyll would have stroked out.

“Oh Darling,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes, “I never claimed not to be and next time- maybe be more specific instead of saying ‘can you pull the right lever?’’”

You sighed while pinching the bridge of your nose, now struggling to contain your laughter. Like the absolute shit he is- he found a loophole.

“Well as long as you aren’t tying me up to a windmill and flinging me into the heavens-“

You didn’t even get to end your sentence because Astarion began crying and laughing again.

Within an hour of the impromptu funeral, your situationship and the interests of the others in the group had been tested when you, Gale, Astarion, and Lae’zel found the Necromancy of Thay. You had accidentally stumbled across the room while searching the caverns underneath the Blighted Village and finding a strange purple amethyst. The book had immediately taken to it and you don’t know what Astarion had seen from the book, but he refused to back down and hand it to Gale.

“No!” Astarion says indignantly, “you aren’t eating this one!”

“I need it to stabilize-“

“I could give a rat’s ass about how stable your stupid chest orb is,” Astarion says while glaring, “this is far too special for the likes of you to consume.”

“It’s obviously a very powerful tome. It would be beneficial for helping my condition,” Gale huffs and then they both look at you.

Oh no.

“State your case?” You say awkwardly, “unbiasedly?”

They both scowl and Astarion pouts at you, but the look in his eyes tells you he understands to some extent that you at least have to let both parties argue their side. You did have a full blown melt down one of the first nights of the journey over not being able to make everyone happy. Astarion rarely put up a fight with you unless it was important to him. You do this with everyone, not just them, but you worry your relationship with Astarion will be seen as the influencing factor.

Gale simply stated that it had powerful magic that he would like to consume. You did mention that you have multiple items for him in your pocket at any given time, but he is still insistent.

Then Astarion makes his case and it’s actually very difficult to argue with it. It’s a book of Necromancy and he is undead. What if the book had a cure for his condition? Or at least a way to diminish the side effects? The desperation in his voice had somehow cracked Gale’s resolve- you didn’t even have to make a decision.

“Fineeeeeeeee,” Gale drawls, “have the damn book- you bastard.”

Astarion looks far too pleased with himself.

Asshole, you think with a smile.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You set up camp at your previous campsite near the Grove so that you can begin your journey into the Underdark.

The sun has already set and the moon shines brightly in the sky. You aren’t ready to go underground yet. You always miss the moon and stars.

You are sitting by the nearby river- enjoying the sounds of the roaring river with Karlach as the two of you try to sort out her love life.

“Soooo,” you raise your eyebrows at her, “is it going to be Wyll, Damon, or Shadowheart?”

“Ughhhh,” Karlach tips over and pretends to writhe in pain in the grass, “having choices sucks!!”

“Oh come on K,” you say teasingly, “you must have someone you are specifically gravitating towards.”

Karlach taps her chin and pretends to think. After a minute- she just looks at you and shrugs.

“I’ve got nothing.”

“Nothing? You spend so much time with Shadowheart and Wyll! Dammon I’d maybe understand being out of the running but what the hell man!”

“I know, I know,” Karlach sighs, “I mean you had Gale and Halsin up your ass- why Astarion?”

You are almost frozen by her question. Why does everyone but you notice when people fancy you?

Why did you choose Astarion? You know the answer, but you also don’t know how to phrase it without sounding like an emotionally clingy weirdo.

“Um well,” you cough awkwardly, “I guess I just really like who he is as a person. I think he’s really funny, intelligent, and whether he wants to admit it or not- he is kind, in his own way.”

You neglect to tell Karlach about the Gnome. You have a feeling she won’t love that whole mess.

“The first night we hung out and just talked was… it was like when I met Tessa for the first time. It was an instant- oh no I’d do anything for this person.”

You hug your knees and put your chin on them. You scrunch up your face and avoid her face.

“You look rather upset for someone who is horribly smitten.”

“I’m not upset- it’s just weird… feeling this way again,” you sigh heavily, “I really am a walking death trap though-specifically where lovers go to die. I probably should end it, right? To keep him safe?”

“I would let him make that decision if you are so worried about it,” Karlach waves her hands at you dismissively, “you like him-I believe he likes you. Fangs can make his own choices- we all know the risk of traveling with you as you know the risk of traveling with us.”

“That’s a good point.”

“Of course it is! I’m a genius!”

You roll your eyes, “So who’s it gonna be Karlach?”

“DAMMIT!”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The trek back to camp isn’t a long one, but you are ready to be in- well- a bed roll?

Astarion has found every excuse in the book to have you come and stay in his tent with him- except for just flat out asking you. It makes you quite giddy regardless.

One night he had even resorted to using the excuse that he needed your assistance and guidance in sharpening his throwing knives. You know what didn’t happen? Sharpening throwing knives.

The two of you had ended up tangled in each other’s embrace and talking until you eventually fell asleep. You woke up the next morning (entirely too early, the sun was barely rising) with him curled around you sleeping. You decided to go back to sleep- you weren’t ready to start your day. You’d rather stay here with Astarion.

You walk back to camp with a slight skip in your step- wondering if Astarion will want you to sleep in his tent with him again tonight. It had been a little less than a week since you had begun backtracking to the Underdark entrance and he had sought you out every night. You really REALLY hope he continues this trend.

Karlach is talking to you about the pros and cons of each partner- still entirely undecided- when you both hear a bone chilling cackle come from a tree in front of you. You both stop in your tracks immediately- Karlach reaches for the small blade she brought with her and you prepare your hidden daggers.

“Well if it isn’t good ole Corpse Eyes,” the mysterious woman says, “we thought you’d finally disappeared for good. Suppose we were wrong.”

You recognize the voice immediately as your fellow guild mate- Rinara. The two of you couldn’t stand each other. She wanted Dahlia to lavish her in all the attention and training she gave you- you just wanted to be left the fuck alone.

Rinara felt like you were a, “selfish fucking brat,” and had taken to calling you ‘Corpse Eyes’ because you had been entirely empty, rigid, and lifeless up until the last year. You were no better than a walking, mindless zombie to her.

Rinara steps around the corner and it takes every last bit of restraint you have not to let the horror show on your face.

Rinara was once a beautiful, almond haired half High Elf with a strong, healthy body. Now? Her skin is the color of Ash, her eyes are bloodlust red, her hair is coming out in clumps on her head, and her skin is peeling off like she has been sitting in an acid bath for a while now. Her left cheek is completely gone- revealing her teeth and gums.

“I was initially only here for the Spawn,” you feel your blood freeze as she smiles at you- all teeth and no light in her eyes, “but if Dahlia also had you…”

“You need to back the fuck off Rinara or-“

“Or what!? You’ll kill me?” She yells out hysterically, “I’m already fucking dead! You disappeared and so they sent fucking Dahlia to do your contract- a request from Obhark himself for the assassination of Lord Cazador Szarr.

“The woman struck a fucking deal with him- she’ll help get his prodigal son home and she’ll supply him with Deathbringers if she’ll be made his consort when he completes the ritual.

“I may not be able to control them,” she snarls, “but I do know that none of this would have happened if you hadn’t fucked off. This was supposed to be you! You are the one who should be tortured and violated! Not me! Not any of us!”

Huh, so your contract was to kill Cazador and because a Mindflayer kidnapped you- Dahlia took the contract and has gone rogue. How very convenient. This certainly tracks with the ridiculousness of the other circumstances you are dealing with. If it’s not devils, then it’s the Gith. If it’s not the gith- it’s some sadistic vampire. There is no winning in this group. Halsin is the only one that doesn’t seem to have an issue yet, but you are waiting for the other shoe to drop on that one.

That’s not important right now- knowing what the ritual is? That would be very valuable. You and Astarion have tried to figure out what the carvings into his back are and what they represent. You can read infernal so you know what it says, but it doesn’t make total sense.

Hoyc inferiu non iurare per igneu

Naec virba loquor

Eoai mundo muoat

This soul swears no oath by fire

Nor words does he speak

In the realm of death

You both has assumed it was just a way to prevent him from making contracts with devils to be free of Cazador, but now knowing there is a ‘ritual’ happening- you wonder if it’s an integral part of the ritual, the scars. If they are, then that means you are going to be doing some heavy duty bodyguard work- if Obarhk himself had requested it, then it must mean it’s not good.

Which also doesn’t surprise you given the circumstances.

“What ritual,” you say through clenched teeth.

Her smile is unsettling, “It’s a secret- all I know is that it’s going to make Master very very powerful.”

She looks at you with so much pain and anger. You are Dahlia’s favorite chew toy- you had been keeping her out of harm's way (unintentionally) this whole time and now that she has Dahlia’s attention- she seems to realize now why you didn’t want it in the first place.

Rinara looks borderline feral- you can see it now. Dahlia evidently doesn’t know how to complete the ritual or she used a different one entirely- that’s why Rinara is somewhere between a Deathbringer and a skeleton in the making. You bite back the bile as you watch a piece of her flesh roll off of her arms onto the ground below.

“She tricked all of us- requested every Assassins’ aid that was not a Deathbringer. Told us Obarkh is going to pick one of us for a special project based on our ‘performance,” she spits at the ground, “then she turned us into these things- only ten out of the hundred of us that went survived. Cazador’s blood and Dahlia’s black magic flows through my veins and I survived to tell the tale- I am rotting away. I wish I died.

“And now? I’m going to have a feast- at least I can enjoy one last full meal before I disappear completely,” she bares her canines at you, “I wonder how Half Drow tastes- maybe I should ask those pigs that ate your bitch mother.”

You don’t even have time to reply before Rinara is lunging at you and Karlach. You both deftly dodge the display of all consuming rage that Rinara throws into her movement.

Rinara has always been too blood thirsty to think logically during a fight and her recent transformation seems to have only made it worse- except now she’s stronger so she may be able to actually get some damage in- doubtful, but possible.

You and Karlach breakthrough the trees and you are barrelling towards camp. You are well-versed in unarmed hand to hand combat, but you can’t leave your life up to chance. You don’t know what Dahlia did to her, but it’s becoming clearer that it was not a Deathbringer ceremony that was performed. Her breathing behind you is ragged and rattling- the smell of her skin taints the air you breathe. She is here specifically for Astarion- you can’t afford to take any risk that could keep Rinara alive.

Everyone looks at you both in alarm as you grab your daggers from outside Lae’zel’s tent (she had offered to sharpen them and basically refused to let you say no). Karlach grabs her axe and yells frantically about some zombie woman who wants Astarion, but hates you and now she wants to consume you before taking Astarion back to Cazador. Oh and Dahlia is in on it too because apparently your disappearance had really caused some issues with a contract regarding killing the Vampire Lord.

You barely see the footsteps of the invisible person running up to you in time to dodge and you hear the scream of frustration rip through the air.

You make a wild guess regarding her location and throw a knife while she screams and cusses at you.

“I’ve been waiting to rip you piece by FUCKING piece since I met -“ she is cut off by a screech and revealing herself to your companions.

You had most definitely hit her- your blade stuck in her left eyeball. Rinara looks at you- significantly more pissed off than she was even a moment before-, rips out her eyeball using the throwing knife, discards it, and begins circling you.

Rinara is not bright and she lacks impulse control. She can remain in control for maybe only four or five minutes at a time- which would explain why hearing your voice is probably what set her off Astarion’s path. The chase bought you more time since Rinara loves a good hunt- you are almost positive you can break her down quickly and because she’ll be chasing a high, she’ll make stupid mistakes. Rinara also loves to talk and taunt her targets which infuriates you, but at least it’s a full proof trap for her.

“You don’t always need to be stronger than your opponents,” Dahlia says as she watches you get the shit kicked out of you by a hired mercenary, “you just need to be faster, smarter, and calm- let them dig their own grave.”

Your companions are clambering for their weapons and you send out a “don’t move” message telepathically. Astarion protests hit your brain like a wave- all you feel is fear. You tell him to trust you and you allow him to be privy to your thoughts and actions. You know exactly how quickly this will end after your next words and you don’t need her getting spooked.

“You know, Rinara, I’m not surprised Dahlia tricked you or that you were dense enough to drink Cazador’s blood- it certainly wouldn’t be the dumbest thing you’ve fallen for,” you smile at her, “I might actually feel sorry for you this time.”

You see your companions all staring at you as Rinara’s footsteps end just to the right of their line of sight. You can feel Astarion’s gaze burning into you and you have to focus hard on disconnecting. Embarrassment will not be helpful.

“What did you just say to me, you little wretch?”

“Oh sorry,” you clear your throat, “I SAID- I THINK YOU ARE REALLY REALLY FUCKING DUMB AND I’M NOT SURPRISED YOU GOT DOOPED.”

The sound of Astarion’s laughter fills your head- you fight to stop the smile that is threatening to cross your lips. The rage bristling off of her is so wonderful. You feel a dopamine rush over the way her teeth are chattering in anger, the way her eyes are paranoid and unfocused as she looks at you. You have gotten under her skin and now it’s your turn to be the predator.

“I’m going to enjoy bringing your skeleton back to Dahlia after I pick you clean,” she roars, “I’m going to enjoy watching that stupid Spawn finally fulfill his-“

“Do you ever shut up or ?” You ask, snorts and laughter coming from your companions, “I feel like I left that at a really good spot and we should just move forward or whatever?”

Oh the look of embarrassment, shame, and fury on her face- how you wish Lucia could have seen it. She could not stand Rinara and the way her face twists with the sour emotions is a wonderful sight to behold.

“I’ve changed my mind. I won’t eat you, I’ll just bring you back to Dahlia like the fucking disobedient thing you are! You” she spits, “are nothing, but a walking Corpse. You should have stayed dead- I liked you better that way. If Dahlia can do it once- I’m sure she’ll love doing it again. You’ll be tolerable and compliant soon enough.”

The cackle that leaves your lips surprises you.

“You always have been so fucking stupid, Rinara,” you hiss, “if you want Dahlia to love you so fucking bad you can have her. The price of her ‘love’ is hardly worth it- the woman is madder than that weird old guy next to brothel on 8th.”

“YOU ARE UNGRATEFUL!” Rinara screeches, “I WILL TEACH YOU A LESSON!”

You could not roll your eyes further back into your head. It should be easier to leave the Nightmasks. The idiocy is putting years on your immortal life.

“Doubtful, but you are welcome to try.”

Rinara lunges fast, but you are definitely faster. You imagine having intact skin helps. Rinara is hitting you with attack after attack and you just focus on dodging, getting in close for a quick hit, then back to dodging. She is the one dying, not you- let her do all the hard work.

Whatever spell Dahlia used did not promote Stamina or basic hygiene- unfortunately. Rinara is breathing hard and is already losing power in her hits.

This goes on for a couple minutes before Rinara does what she always does- lifting up her back foot ever so slightly so that she can extend her blade farther. You don’t know how many times you have to trip her for this mistake before she realizes she’s her own worst enemy.

You move out of the way and use her momentum- with a swift kick of your foot- Rinara went skidding across the dirt. Her blade is stuck in the ground near you almost perfectly upright. You walk over to it and you push it even further into the ground then stand directly in front of it, cutting off her line of sight to it.

“If you want your cheap ass sword back- come get it.”

It’s actually a very expensive sword and Rinara is very very defensive about it.

“YOU-“

Rinara doesn’t even allow herself to finish her sentence before she flings a massive bolt of lightning your way. Your companions are screaming as you run towards the lightning, but you know what you are doing. You dive just below the electric crackling in the air and roll back onto your feet. You watch as Rinara turns to you before she catches the blue bolt coming back towards her.

You didn’t always like to use your enemies weapons for their intended purposes, but when in need of a reflective surface- you can never go wrong with a sword.

Rinara goes flying towards the campfire- the smell of rotting burnt flesh fills your nose as she cries out in pain with every spark of lightning that jolts through her.

You take your time to walk back to the campfire, walking over with her sword in hand, and look through your pack- of course you left your Holy Water at home. At least you have wine- you pop it open and begin to drink. Rinara is still writhing on the ground and her flesh is even worse off than it was before. This really isn’t your favorite way to spend any evening- killing your formal frenemy because there is no rehabbing this version of her. It is all the worst of Rinara and then some.

You sigh heavily and walk over to her. You cock your head at her, leaning on her sword for support, and take another long sip of the wine. Rinara’s irritation is growing, but her body is practically in tatters now. She lashes out at you with clawed hands- you meet both of her wrists with her own sword- deftly cleaving them off her. The mortified scream that leaves Rinara’s mouth as she begins trying to back away from you. You smile at her with your vampiric stare- intensifying Rinara’s growing fear.

“Dahlia did a shit job training you. Didn’t she tell you the rules ? Use it and you lose it,” you take another swig.

“Hells Soldier!”

“Hey-“ you take an even bigger sip, “I’ve been waiting to take this one out back and put her out of her misery for five years. She’s obsessed with Dahlia of all fucking people and so she terrorizes me by interfering with my contracts! I will be enjoying my moment- thank you very much.”

“That’s not what I meant- you ‘use it, you lose it?’ That can’t possibly-“

You roll up your sleeves and the silence around the campfire is deafening as everyone stares- you should have probably not done that.

Blunt, deep lines around your wrist, old and faded into the skin. There are similar markings on your elbows right at your elbows.

“The reversal process involves blood magic and necromancy- if you were wondering. Oh and yes it does hurt, yes I have more, and no I won’t be talking about it.”

Rinara kicks you weakly- your shoulders slump. Is she serious right now? Consistency is key so off goes the foot. Rinara’s pained wailing echoes in the air.

One last giant swig and you feel less freaked out and embarrassed by your sudden onslaught of bravado. You hold out the bottle to Astarion who happily takes it and begins to drink from it- you can feel his eyes melting your skin and you are almost afraid to see the emotions in them.

You grab Rinara by the back of her collar and her wriggling barely stops you from being able to easily drag her along the forest floor all the way back to the river. Hopefully she’s close to the same concept as a vampire, but also Rinara can’t swim.

“Well my dumb friend,” you say with a snort, “this is where we part ways- permanently. I hope the fish like their dinner and you’ll stop talking so Goddamn much in fights during battles. This was way too much work for how fucking weak you are.”

Rinara is screaming and kicking. You let her go and walk about five feet in front of her- putting her between yourself and the river. You wave and smile like you are saying goodbye to a loved relative- followed with a middle finger.

You use a simple Push cantrip and watch with a sort of sick satisfaction as Rinara begins to burn up, steam coming up from the water as she is dragged away by the current.

“Well Roo, I would say that may be some of your finest work yet,” you say, giving yourself a pat on the back.

You turn around and see all of your companions. You suddenly feel ill and self-conscious. Wyll looks slightly horrified, Halsin is just unreadable, Karlach is giving you a thumbs up like it’s your first day of school, Shadowheart is nodding her head impressed, Gale is shocked, and Lae’zel is slowly clapping.

Astarion though? He’s looking at you with a mixture of gratitude, warmth, and pride. You try your best to avoid his gaze as you put your hand on your hip and lift an eyebrow at them. You might actually keel over from adoration if you look at him.

“What are you guys even doing? Good Gods you people are far too supportive and clingy,” you say trying to hide your smile and then look at Gale, “don’t you have something cooking?”

“SHIT!”

All of your companions turn around to leave, but Astarion begins to walk towards you and you feel like your heart might explode in your chest. You see Karlach celebrate behind him- giving you a thumbs up again and you shake your head at her.

You just fought a woman and barely broke a sweat, but the minute he even looks at you- you feel like your whole body is on fire. Strong hands, grab you by the hips and pull you into his chest before he then moves them to your face. Astarion cups your face in his hands and is looking in your eyes.

“You are a sight to behold, Darling,” he says breathlessly, “that was the most beautiful display of violence I’ve ever seen.”

“ I- uh,” you choke back the surprise, “just another day… on the job?”

“Oh well, let me thank you for your wonderful work then.”

“You don’t need to-“

Astarion presses his lips to yours and swallows up the words you were going to say. The kiss is rough, but slow and needy- hungry even. It makes you feel like he is yearning for you- worshiping you in a temple.

When you pull back for air, you see how his eyes are blown wide with lust and another emotion you can’t quite decipher- it’s positive, but also a little fearful.

“Stay with me?” He asks, his voice uncharacteristically shy, “in my tent?”

“Tonight?”

“Yes,” he pauses before saying quietly, “and every night after that too- if you want.”

You let a huge smile spread across your face and his nervous expression appears to melt away almost instantly. You step back from him and curtsy.

“I, a simple camp urchin, would be honored to stay in your tent with you, Lord Acunin,” you say teasingly.

Astarion rolls his eyes with a lopsided smile, but puts his arm out to you. You loop your arm through his as if you are two normal nobles courting each other.

“First we must feed you, my Lady,” Astarion states in an overly proper tone, you giggle and you see the corners of his mouth twitch further at the sound, “I must make sure my lover is well taken care of after all.”

You are hot from head to toe and Astarion absolutely has to notice. If he does, he doesn’t say anything, but you hope he hears how alive he makes your heart sound.

*************************************

“Never have I ever…” Gale says, “worked for a Devil.”

Astarion watches as Karlach and Wyll begrudgingly take a large sip of their choice of liquor. You are leaning your head on Astarion’s shoulder- the alcohol making you slightly more affectionate in public. Astarion would be lying if he said it didn’t give him a thrill to be this close to you- even if PDA might not be his thing.

“Never have I ever- been a vampire,” Karlach says slyly.

Both you and Astarion grumble- taking a shot.

“Never have I ever,” Shadowheart says, tapping her finger on her knee , “lit a building on fire.”

Every single one of you but Halsin takes a shot. Shadowheart giggles and then also takes a shot.

“Shadowheart,” Karlach says and looks at her with confusion, “you aren’t supposed to drink if you haven’t done it?”

“Oh no- I have,” Shadowheart slurs, “I just wanted another shot and couldn’t think of anything else.”

Karlach begins to chastise Shadowheart playfully- commenting on how she is already way too messed up and Shadowheart saying, “I am a CLERIC I can cure my own hangovers!”

Everybody chuckles and returns to the game- it’s Wyll’s turn. Wyll regards you and cocks an eyebrow.

“Hmmmmm…. Never have I ever killed a Liche.”

You snort and take a shot.

“NO!” Wyll exclaims, “I thought I had you that time.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you hum in acknowledgement, “I think I was- 15?”

Wyll is sitting on the edge of his seat- actually everyone is. Astarion watches you squirm in recognization that everyone wants to hear your story.

“Oh it was just a complete accident,” you say with a fake enthusiasm, “I was exploring a nearby temple during a contract and just happened to run into one.”

Everyone bought the story- Wyll comments that you have terrible luck which you laugh at. He has no idea.

Astarion already knows this story- Dahlia had dragged your halfway dead body all the way into an abandoned castle off the coast of the Sea of Stars, resurrected you, and then shackled your feet and hands together. She later hid the key for the shackles somewhere in the castle for you to find.

It was an exercise- a sadistic one. You had pissed her off the night before because you had refused to let you cut your hair. She had cut it all off, every last inch, after she had beaten you into submission by quite literally killing you. This was the second part of your punishment.

She told you that there is a Lich hiding in the castle and her expectations of you were high- you are not to receive even a single scratch and the Lich needed to be dead. The punishment for not meeting these expectations? You would go without eating for a week and you would be locked away in the basement- not allowed to leave or see Tessa. You killed the lich, but you were horrifically mauled in the process because you couldn’t find the key. It was a long week in that dark, cold, horrible basement. Dahlia had also hired Abdirak to reinforce how horribly you fucked up.

Astarion absentmindedly puts his hand on yours and gives it a reassuring squeeze- trying to disrupt the spiral you’re evidently about to go into. You look over at him and Astarion feels like he could melt. You look at him with so much gratitude and as if he is the most important person who has ever walked this earth. Gods he has really really fucked up his plan.

The game has continued to go on without the two of you and suddenly everyone is staring at you both.

“Did you both not hear the question?” Karlach snorts while wiggling her eyebrows.

You both look at each other and you laugh awkwardly before turning back to Karlach.

“Repeat?”

“Never have I ever felt romantically towards any form of vampire,” Wyll states, “Gale, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart have had their shots already- so now we are just waiting on you two.”

Astarion doesn’t even have to think about it- which could partially be because of how intoxicated he currently is- obviously he is taking a shot.

He pours some more alcohol in yours and his glasses- then looks at you. This is about when his drunk mind realizes that he is basically stating, “I like you, but do you like me?” With his actions and that there is still the possibility that you could reject him. He did fling a Gnome you were trying to save into the air today- not the most attractive thing a person can do. (It was kind of worth it though).

“Cheers?” He says with a smirk on his face- hoping his eyes don’t reflect how nervous he feels.

You squint your eyes at him playfully before clinking the glass, “Cheers.”

Karlach claps her hands excitedly and Wyll’s eyes are sparkling while he looks at her. Shadowheart also smiles widely at the display of support.

You and Astarion have been speculating who Karlach is going to end up with for days now- Dammon is still a possibility, but you both have decided that it’s least likely. Astarion thinks Shadowheart and you think it will be Wyll. There’s 100 gold on the line for whoever wins. If it ends up being Dammon though? Well you will both drink and commiserate together about how blind you had both been.

It’s your turn now and you look directly at Astarion, he isn’t sure how he feels about the mischievous glint in your eyes. Then you say your sentence out loud and he feels a laugh bubble up from his lungs.

“Never have I ever flung a Deep Gnome from a windmill.”

Astarion falls off the log- laughing just as hard as he had done earlier- as you regale the group with the story. Gods it had been such a wonderful experience- the look on your face had been priceless. He also silently appreciated that you were far more impressed with his loophole than upset about his actions.

The goodies of the group castigate him, but they are all laughing equally as hard as the both of you are. You paint a very vivid picture using hand gestures and words that Astarion has been teaching you in common to describe things. He relishes in how lovely and lively you are- Alcohol is such a wonderful thing. He can just enjoy you without that horrible nagging in his head that even being involved with you anymore is a bad idea.

When Astarion finally finishes laughing- he happily takes another shot.

[idontplaytrack]

✧ I Dare You(to love me)

Jos Cleary-Lopez x physically disabled fem! reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut— oral, fingering, kissing, marking, slight overstimulation, first time(reader receiving), fluff, some angst, mentions to surgery & scars.

Reader’s first time reveals some truths about herself to Jos.

Bit of self-insert, sorry not sorry🫢

(Pictures used a from Tumblr & Pinterest)

“y/n, it is the middle of summer. You’re already sweating.” Jos says quietly, “Why are you still wearing long pants?”

You looked back at her, swallowing harshly as you began to panic. You couldn’t let her know, you could never. She’d hate you and be disgusted with you just like anyone else, then. The more you thought about it, the more you felt like crying. You feel the painful lump in your throat and the racing of your heart. Fiddling with your thumbs, you looked down and your crossed legs.

Jos doesn’t back down. She asks again, “Baby, what’s the matter? You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Your fists balled together trying to divert the tears that were pricking your eyes, away. “Look at me, y/n.” She says, moving closer to you. You shook your head, still avoiding her gaze. “Baby, please.” She repeated, hand reaching for your chin and tilting it up so she could see your face. The card game on the floor was long forgotten.

“You’ll just be disgusted by me like everyone else.” You croaked.

Her eyes narrowed, puzzled. But her gaze was soft and filled with obvious concern. “y/n, I don’t— I promise you, nothing about you could make me feel that way.”

“I don’t know how to tell you.” You admit. “I’m scared.” A tear slips from your eye. “I like you so much, Jos. And every time our make-outs almost turn into more and I just— I know I say no to it but it’s not because I don’t want to do it.”

She looks at you, still concerned but listening attentively.

For the lack of better words, you rolled up jeans to show her. “I…have cerebral palsy.” You revealed fearfully, “I had to get surgery twice when I was a kid to make sure I would stop tiptoeing and actually walk because my muscles and tendons were so tight. So by the end of twelve years, two surgeries and four long and very obvious, ugly scars…after many of my friends saw these and got terrified a disgusted by them…I don’t ever show them. Because I know better than to do that.”

She looked at them, then looked at you. You got self-conscious and looked away again. “Baby, they’re not ugly. Okay? And as cheesy as it sounds, they got you to where you are today. It improved your life, you could do more of what you wanted. Kids are assholes sometimes, they didn’t know better. But I do, I know you and those scars and your condition don’t define you. What does define you, however, is how you treat others with so much respect no matter how nasty some people can get with you. You’re kind, you cherish your friends, your family, me. You love me for who I am. y/n, you are perfect the way you are. You are my girlfriend- you’re perfect for me.”

You told yourself not to cry, but of course she still managed to make you cry. You shook your head, desperately rejecting what she was telling you. Your mind didn’t want to accept it even though it was the sort of response you’ve always wanted. You couldn’t believe your ears, and not in a good way. But damn, your eyes watching Jos…how that tank top perfectly hugged her figure? It was making you feel some things. You exhaled harshly, avoiding her eyes again while swiping the tears away, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? Don’t ever apologise for things that aren’t your fault.” Jos sat closer to you, tilting your chin again so she could see your face. “I’m just happy you trust me enough and told me so I know what to look out for and help you.”

“I’m not used to such a reaction so I just— I can’t believe it, literally.” You admit, “But thank you, Jos. For not ditching me like everyone else has.”

She doesn’t say anything but smile at you, cupping your cheek and leaning in. Her eyes silently asking for permission to kiss you. You were feeling so many emotions at once, but desire won. You nodded, allowing her to crash her lips onto your own.

“Ever done this before?”

“No.” You mumbled.

“That’s okay, I got you. We'll figure it out together." She assured, "You can show me how you like me to do it."

Fuck. You whined into the kiss as she deepens it, then telling you to sit in her lap. You pulled away, looking at her right in the eye. “Yeah, sit in my lap.” She confirms. “Okay…” You agreed hesitantly and let her pull you onto her lap. Her fingers hooked on the hem of your underwear and your jeans, “Take ‘em off, baby.” You gulped, lifting your hips and allowing her to pull both pieces of fabric down. You laugh, it was a bit of struggle but somehow neither of you thought of standing up to remove them first. Once the pieces of clothing were abandoned, you were sat comfortably in her lap. She tilts your face to kiss you, hand cupping and caressing your cheek. Once she started to kiss you, you’d forgotten about your worries. Her free hand was tentatively on your thigh but it soon started inching closer and closer to the juncture between your thighs.

“I’ll take it slow, okay?” She broke away, lips separating unwillingly. Jos looks at you, searching your eyes for the answer since you didn’t open your mouth to talk. “Yeah, yeah.” You finally managed to say, “Okay.” Jos starts kissing you again once she gets a confirmation from you, her fingers ghost your clit and you flinch. A second later, her fingertips were on your clit, rubbing slow circles on it to let your arousal grow for a while. You fought a whine that was caught in your throat, painfully swallowing it when you felt her slide a finger down towards your entrance. Your clit throbs, causing an ache and she’s definitely felt that little movement. Jos chuckles into the kiss, finger teasing your entrance for a little too long. Right before you could complain, she started pushing her finger in slowly. A whimper falls from your lips, muffled by the unending kiss. Jos takes this as her cue to pick up her pace, her hand’s also left your face and was now on one of your thighs to keep them open for her.

Jos laughs lowly, sending a shock down your spine, “You’re so wet, baby…” You whined at that, and the fact that she’s slid a second finger in. “Oh, shit.” She groans at your tightness, fingers staying still so you could get used to the feeling. “Does it hurt?” She asks quickly, gaze studying your face for any signs of discomfort. You mumbled incoherently and shook your head, “Keep going?”

“Okay.” She grins, moving her lips down to your neck while her fingers got back to work. Jos kisses a trail down the side of your neck, and when you let out a yelp at a certain spot, she went back to it and started to kiss it over and over, sucking and then biting down on it lightly. Shit.

You moaned, squirming in your position. Jos chuckles right into your ear, proud that she figured it out so easily. It only made you even whinier. “Baby~ are you close?” She teases.

Your breathing hitches.

“Tell me.” Jos said gently, handing caressing your thigh.

You breathed in then exhaled harshly, painfully admitting, “Yes.”

She smiles then pressed a kiss to your shoulder. Retracting her fingers as much as she could without leaving you, they were then forcefully jammed into you so she could hit your sensitive spot and push you over the edge. Jos did this a few times over before you started to clench erratically around her fingers.

“Shit.” You panted, “Oh, my God.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She cajoled, “That’s good, just let it happen. I’ve got you.” Jos’ voice was so sweet, but her actions were so sinful— it drove you crazy. Your heart was beating in your ears, breathing coming out in short gasps, you were whining and whimpering…all because of Jos.

“Go on, baby. Come for me.” She whispers, “Come on.”

With a final push of her fingers poking at the spongy part deep inside you, you felt yourself unravel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You mumbled, leaning fully onto her while your head fell back onto her shoulder lazily. Jos keeps going though, until you let out particularly high-pitched cry and lifted yourself of her. She quickly removes her fingers from you and eased you back down into her lap while she whispered sweet words into your ears and caressed your thigh, “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay. Breathe, beautiful. You’re alright, I promise.”

————

Next thing you know, Jos lifts you off the ground and places you on her mattress. You locked eyes with her. She asks, “You…wanna go again?”

“Again?” You asked, a little bit winded while you leaned against the headboard, legs still apart while she knelt in between them.

She nodded, biting back an excited grin.

“So—”

“I’ll use my mouth if you’d like.” Jos continues.

“Oh.” You said back, the same giddy smile forms on your face again. Nodding your head, she moves, face to face with your dripping cunt, her ass tilted in the air. Dear God.

Jos was incredibly gentle, seeing that you’d just came once. Yet, you were still so sensitive and kept flinching. So, she went slower, and softer. You let out a ragged breath, she holds onto your inner thighs causing your hand to fall off your knee and limply onto your side. “Mm— fuck—” You murmured shakily, “Fuck— Jos— feels so good.”

Satisfied, Jos laughs, breath fanning against your heat and eliciting a whine and a string of profanities to spew from your lips. Jos fully attaches her mouth onto you, like she was trying to suck you dry. The sudden increase in intensity numbed your mind, causing your clit to throb harshly in her mouth and your wetness to leak out more and more every time she did it. You cried out, “Fuck!” You gripped the sheets beneath you, unsure of what the hell you could do with them other than that.

A long string of ‘oh, my god’ and ‘fuck’ coupled with her name comes from you without an end as she ruthlessly ate you out, helping reach your second high with ease. Your hips bucked right before you came, making Jos grip onto your thighs harder so you stayed put like this— closer to her face than ever. Your knees were giving way, though and she knew so she just let that happen too after a little bit. You fall back on the mattress, a whiny mess following her ministrations. Trembling as you came down from your climax, you were also breathless.

“Fuck, that was so hot.” Jos knelt again then sat down. Your gaze falls onto her face, and you were dumbfounded. Using her hand to clean off her face and chin that was dripping with your cum, she leans forward to capture your lips into her own. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Mhm.” You hummed, “I’m okay.”

Her hand strokes your cheek, “Good. You did so good, baby.”

You smiled blissfully, catching her gaze for a beat, “Fuck.”

“So beautiful, baby.” A similar smile creeps onto her face as she attacks you with kiss after kiss all over your face making you giggle.

“I love you.” You told her, arm resting on her shoulder as she sits before you and between your legs.

“I love you more, baby.” She seals the promise with yet another kiss, “I love you— so, so fucking much.”

————

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[callsigncherub]

His and Mine are the same - Prologue.

Summary: "Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be;" - Emily Bronte.

Isabella Munro never believed she was capable of being loved. When she meets Bradley Bradshaw, an all consuming love teaches them both lessons about themselves they never knew they needed, until just the right moment.

This is my first ever series! Its a heavy one, a lot of angst! But there will be lots of fluff and smut in between. I hope everyone enjoys.

Bradley Bradshaw x OC! Isabella Munro

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1364 words

Growing up, most young girls are told stories of fairies and mythical creatures, princesses being saved by their prince in a land where there’s little evil. Stories with a happy ending. Most young girls dream about falling in love and living in the perfect world with their perfect prince, full of love and contentment.  

Protected from the vile, graphic, and downright soul shattering dangers of life, they hear these stories every night before bed, looking up at their mothers, with innocent eyes and they listen intently, engrossed by the idea of falling in love.

Most girls go on to live these stories in the real world, but they don’t always go to plan. Shielded by their mothers from experiencing the trials and tribulations of these tales, and most girls go on to find their new equilibrium. They meet their person; they experience true love in all its glory and then they tell their daughters the same stories their mothers told them. But for some young girls, this isn’t the case.

For some young girls, the experiences they encounter growing up are far more chilling than those same stories they heard when they were younger. Some girls grow up with their innocence stripped away far too soon. Some girls aren’t protected from the dangers of life. For some girls they live their lives in constant disruption. The love that they so desperately crave never comes. Instead, the horrors of humanity continue to rear their ugly heads as soon as even a small glimpse of hope for a happy future enters their life. They don’t get books filled with the purest of souls, instead they get empty pages with broken promises and a void too big to fill. The idea seems too bittersweet.

Over time it takes its toll, it becomes impossible to see the good in anything, in anyone. You love too hard, care to much and never have those feelings reciprocated. Somewhere between being that happy young girl the lines blur into a state of melancholy, the constant ache, the fear of realising loneliness is forever. Trapped by your roots, a lone weed in a field of wildflowers, the yearn to bloom.

That’s where the grief usually comes in. Slowly to begin with, like a parasite, eating away the memories of a happy childhood, the memories of being that little girl filled with hope, a bright future ahead of her, and then the dam finally breaks. All at once, an overbearing sadness, grieving the beautiful little personality once harboured by a young girl with the biggest hopes and dreams. A young girl with a toothy grin, that loved to play and sing and dance, who would swing as high as she could on the swings because that’s the closest, she could get to flying. But that same little one grew up too soon, and like many others, learnt in the hardest ways that growing up too fast, means knowing who you are before your body knows who you are. Memories of a happy childhood chipped away with age, and a heart broken by the one man who should’ve loved her before any other.

Her father.

And she feels it, the pure hatred for a man who couldn’t openly love his child. The man who makes her question whether or not he even has any love to show for all the years he’s ever walked this earth and all the years she’s been his daughter. The man who never understood the significance of cherishing the time spent with his daughter, making her feel valued and loved, calling her beautiful because she looks just like her mother, holding her in the dead of night when she wakes up from a night terror, even just holding her for one moment. One. Moment. Because even showing her the slightest bit of appreciation, the slightest bit of love in that single second could protect her from a lifetime of damnation, for seeking that solicitude in the arms of men who could never live up to even half of the man her father could’ve been.

It was never her fault. But she couldn’t stop blaming herself for hating him as much as she did, because there was no excuse in the world that meant that it was okay for him to treat her that way, to hurt her repeatedly in ways most fathers would never, ever think of doing.

So, she often finds herself lying awake in bed at night wishing she could visit herself as a little girl. She would take her by the hand and pull her to the grass to make daisy chains, she’d count the gaps between her teeth and savour the way her laughter fills her ears, she’d try to swing just as high on the swing and sit opposite her at the picnic bench. But most importantly, she would warn her about what’s to come, prepare her for the heartache she’s going to go through in life. She’d ache to show that little version of herself a picture of her father and urge her to run from away from her future, as far as her little legs would take her, and then run a little more.

But something always stops her. And that something is that somewhere out there in her future, through all the pain and suffering, someone was waiting for her. Someone just as broken, but had all the love the earth could hold, to give just to her.

They had no idea they existed together, they were complete strangers to one another, crossing paths anonymously, in the most unexpected of ways until eventually, they were in the right place at exactly the right time. They were each other’s firsts. Not in any sense of first love, first kiss, first time. Not at all. But they were each other’s firsts to love the other unconditionally. To prove that they were never too much, to prove that they were not in fact a burden on one another. But that the love they had to give, the type of love that was so beautiful it consumed them, the love that showed that whatever their souls were embodied with, theirs were intertwined. That love was more than enough. They were meant to be. Maybe not forever, but they needed to experience this love, that usually only comes once in a lifetime – there to show you the true beauty of living life, to motivate you to find your soul within yourself and stand up to you when you need it. It’s a challenging type of love, there’s the darkest of days, the wind and the rain and the thunder. But these two souls are also connected like the sun and the moon, always in the midst of different phases but brought together by that unknown gravitational pull. There will never be any connection stronger. – C.B

“Isabella Munro, there will never be anyone else that I’ll ever be able to love as much as I love you, simply because I’ll never know how to. You are the first and last person I will wholeheartedly love for the rest of my life, and this love, I will hold onto until my hands are bleeding and I have nothing left to give. I know deep down that you’re the one I will continue to fall for everyday until I take my last breath and not because I want you, or need you, but because you have given a part of yourself to me that I never imagined I’d have. You’ve given me a love so unconditional I’m not sure I’m even worthy of it. But trust me when I say that I am completely in love with every inch of you, every part of your soul that you’ve given to me, and I will always be here I promise you that. Come back to me sweetheart. Please” The voicemail echoed through Isabella’s mind, and she felt a single hot tear rolling down her cheek, burning a path a long her pale face.

“Bradley, I’m so sorry. I love you, so much”. She panted, before her eyes closed and all she could hear was the high-pitched ringing in her ears.

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

First part of the series is up!

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[autumnalwalker]

Ashan, I named you Glassheart and now you keep being a mirror for people.

In retrospect I should have seen this coming. It was practically in the title of your first POV chapter even though I meant it as a reference to something else.

Sullivan since the start of the story: “Huh, this Glassheart kid is a pretty strong wizard and has a lot of similar ideals with my friend (Road). I should arrange for the two of them to become friends so Glassheart can replace me one day, because I’m pretty sure my presence is ultimately harmful.”

Road in Chapter 24: “Hey Ashan, I think Sullivan likes you and he almost never likes anyone. You should try talking to him. He’s had something eating at him lately and I think he could really use more than just one friend in his life, especially now that his wife’s gone. I promise he’s not as bad as he tries to make himself seem.”

Road in Chapter 21: “You know, Eris, you kind of remind me of Sullivan.”

Sullivan in Chapter 24: “You know, Ashan, you kind of remind me of my friend (Road).”

Road in Chapter 21: [Calls Eris by a nickname that only three other people use for her and then gets told that name isn't for them to call her.]

Sullivan in Chapter 24: [Starts to call Ashan by the name his parents remember him by and gets interrupted and told that name isn't for him to say.]

Lacuna ever since first meeting Ashan: "Wow, he's so pretty and cool and powerful. Maybe if I were more like him I could actually be useful instead of an ugly, awkward, anxious wreck. Then I actually join everyone else on their cool adventures and help keep Eris safe the same way she makes me feel safe when she's around."

The child in a side story who would grow up to be Sullivan: “This street urchin (who will eventually grow up to be Road) just broke into my room to steal my leftover cake. I’m going to feed them and we’re going to be friends. I’ve never had a friend before.”

Eris and Ashan in Chapter 12: [One of my favorite exchanges in this whole story so far...]

“Hey, maybe don’t eavesdrop on people,” a low voice from behind Ashan says at the same time a heavy hand grips his shoulder.

He looks around to find Eris standing behind him. She gestures back down the garden path with her head and gently but irresistibly pulls him away from Lacuna and Jero.

“I apologize but it was not my intent to intrude on their privacy,” Ashan says once he and Eris are out of earshot. “I was merely waiting for an appropriate break in the conversation so that I would not interrupt.”

Eris rounds on him with a protective fury in her eye and raising her voice as much as she can without drawing attention. “Do you really think I would really believe that half-assed an excuse coming from a…” She trails off, really looking at Ashan’s face for perhaps the first time and then studying him up and down. He can see the gears turn in her head as snippets of information gleaned over the past two days click into place. A hand goes to her head and she begins massaging her temples before continuing more softly, “Oh, God dammit, you’re a frickin’ homeless kid who hasn’t had legit social interaction in years aren’t you?”

“A wizard makes his home wherever he wishes, and solitude is the whetstone of the mind.”

“Yeeeaaah… no. Are you even old enough to drink?”

“By this world’s calendar and the laws of my birthplace, yes.”

“Uh huh… And with inter-world temporal sync factored in?”

“Probably.”

“God dammit. Have you had dinner yet?”

“I do not see what that has to do with -”

“Have you eaten yet today?”

“I was going to after everyone else was seen to.”

“God frickin’ dammit.”

Eris grabs Ashan’s wrist and begins dragging him toward the entrance to Bridgewood Manor. With her other hand she begins typing a message on her phone.

“What ever are you doing?”

“Dealing with the fact that I now have two dumbass friends who don’t know how to feed themselves.”

“I assure you I am perfectly capable of feeding myself.”

“Kid, you have no idea how many times I’ve heard that one.”

Ashan opens his mouth to object once more to such humiliating treatment when one of Eris’s words catches up with him and forces him to reconsider.

Friends.

Ashan Glassheart, you're the only member of the main cast without a pre-existing relationship to the others and now they're all projecting those relationships onto their interactions with you.

I love it when I do this sort of stuff on accident. Makes me feel like I know what I’m doing.

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

do-over

While everyone else watches ball drops and sings Auld Lang Syne and drinks cheap champagne and whatever else you’re supposed to do at New Year’s Eve parties, Dean is elbow-deep in monster guts, because the universe has decided that he never, ever gets to observe holidays the normal way. He misses the countdown to midnight, too, passed out on the thin motel mattress from exhaustion. 

(At least he didn’t have to spend half an hour trying to scrub the aforementioned monster guts off of himself under the shower’s weak stream. Cas is helpful like that.)

“It’s a new year,” Cas says at breakfast, looking at the newspaper that he grabbed when they walked into the diner. They’ve found another case, a haunting that they’ll have to take care of tonight, so they’re stuck in Random Podunk Town, USA, for the day. 

Dean nods and shoves a piece of bacon in his mouth. “Yep.”

“We missed New Year’s Eve.” Cas isn’t eating, just attempting to drink some of the world’s worst coffee. It’s alarming, even by Dean’s coffee standards.

“I didn’t know you cared about stuff like that.”

“Well, you do, don’t you?” Cas is doing the fucking head-tilt routine and the squinty eyes, and Dean is about to disappoint him with one of the many idiosyncrasies of human beings.

“I’m supposed to care,” Dean says. “Big difference. New Year’s Eve is supposed to be this awesome night, one last crazy party. That’s not how it’s ever happened to me, and it never will.”

“You sound like to you care.” Cas stops squinting, thank god, but now he’s giving Dean that I know you better than you think I do look, like he’s x-raying Dean’s brain. “You could have a do-over.”

“What, like celebrate tonight?”

Cas nods.

“Yeah, uh-huh.” Dean rolls his eyes, decides to focus his attention on buttering his triangle of toast. 

“Okay.” Cas picks his coffee mug back up, leaving Dean with the sinking feeling that Cas is definitely not going to drop this.

***********

Cas disappears around lunchtime with the promise of pizza. Dean waves good-bye, although most of his attention is on the clunky travel laptop, trying to figure  out the next case. They’re sort of between apocalypses right now, which is a relief but also means that the next big thing could strike at any moment. 

Dean has gotten used to things being upended. His life has always been chaos, and when it’s calm, he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He never feels like he can just walk through a place, treats everyone else like civilians. And they are, aren’t they? They have no idea about the horrors that lurk, and the people that try to keep them lurking instead of out in the open. 

Also, most people haven’t died before, so that’s something.

Cas returns with the pizza about thirty minutes later, along with a suspicious number of grocery bags. 

“Apparently,” Cas says, setting the pizza box on the table next to the laptop and then turning his attention to the bed, with its ugly brown paisley comforter, emptying the bags onto it, “The New Year’s stuff goes on sale after New Year’s Eve.” Cas picks up a pair of glasses shaped like the new date that Dean’ll write wrong for at least a month. “These are odd.”

“Did the cashier think you were odd?” Dean shuts the laptop; he’s found a couple of leads, but if nothing materializes post-ghost he’ll just call Sam for next steps. 

“I told her we were celebrating late because we got caught up with work.” Cas is now examining a plastic champagne glass. “The grocery store didn’t have champagne, but I thought you’d like beer better anyways.”

Dean snorts. “Tell me she didn’t ask what our jobs were.”

“I said we work in wildlife control.”

“You’re dressed like an accountant. Or a beige Matrix character.”

“I don't know what that means. Wildlife always need to be controlled, Dean, even on a holiday.”

“Okay, fair.” Dean gets up and looks at what's on the bed: party hats, crowns, streamers, noisemakers, novelty napkins. “How many people are we supposed to be celebrating New Year’s with? Is the ghost coming?”

“I was thinking we could handle the ghost first, and then celebrate. We could watch a movie--I’m sure there’s a cowboy film you haven’t shown me yet.”

“Maybe we should watch Matrix. There’s trench coats.”

Cas glares at him. “I was also going to say that I know of a New Year’s Eve tradition.” 

“Oh.” 

Cas smirks, and Dean feels a slight dislike for ever trying to teach him how to play human on TV. This is also the closest they’ve gotten so far to talking about whatever is going on and has been going on, really, for years now. 

Well, it is a new year. Maybe some new things will happen.

At the very least, Dean will have to take a picture of Cas in a party hat. That will certainly be new.

[eric-cartman-my-beloved]

why do you hate the post covid specials

  Well, anon, since you asked… Prepare yourself.

  If at any point during answering this I seem angry (I probably will) I promise it’s not because of you, only because of the subject matter.

  So far, the only South Park episode I have intensely disliked (not even hated) is “Make Love Not Warcraft”. But the Post Covid Specials…they just make my blood boil.

  Before starting, let me just mention that aside from a scene or two, I have only watched the specials once. (One time was already painful enough.) So if I make any mistakes plot-wise, you’re free to let me know.

  There are certain things I can appreciate about the Post Covid Specials – like Stan and Kyle’s interactions, for example – but for every thing I like there are about five I dislike. I wasn’t really satisfied with the direction they took Butters to, I didn’t like Kenny’s adult design, I didn’t like Randy, and Scott did not even make a cameo. However, I can tolerate these and they are more or less minor details when compared to the actual problem I have with these god-forsaken specials.

  Eric.

  In fact, I have such a huge problem with him that I think if Eric was completely absent from the specials, they’d be 10.000% better.

  Why I dislike this… iteration of him so much? Well, this can be split into two parts: a) design and b) characterization. And one last thing, for the most part I’ll be referring to Eric in the specials as “Rabbi Cartman”. I couldn’t call him “Eric” even if you paid me.

  Let’s address the elephant in the room first:

Design

  What is this.

  What. The. Devil. Is. This.

  I mean come on, really – what is that thing???

  Literally – and I mean literally – the only slightly positive thing I have to say about it is the suit. Everything else is just…ugh…

  What is wrong with his head? Everyone else gets a normal – for South Park standards – shaped head but his is just built like a ball?

  Scratch that, his entire body is shaped like a ball. What’s up with the short, stubby legs and the arms that barely reach his sides?

  And as if that wasn’t enough, look at his face again.

  That stubble…Why? It’s so ugly, so disgusting, so gross…

  Also, he’s the only one – out of the main four, at least – who looks like he has wrinkles around his mouth. Him! Not Kenny or Stan. Him.

  And why glasses of this shape specifically? Granted, I don’t think any other shape would have fitted that ball of a face, but still, they could have somehow been better than this! They make him look like a grandpa.

  Not to mention…the graying hair! Yeah, okay, I know, Stan and Kenny appear to have some graying hairs too, but they aren’t nearly as prominent or as much of an eyesore to look at. And look! His hairline seems to be receding, even! (And you’re telling me that Eric, who cared about his hair so much more than the rest of the boys, would just let that happen and walk around with gray hairs without doing anything about it.)

  Next up, we have his eyebrows. Remember how Eric is the only kid character with triangular – so presumably nicely-shaped – eyebrows? Yeah, not anymore. Now they’re thick and look unkempt.

  His nose… That’s not a nose. These are just two holes. No one else has a nose shaped like that. It just leads me to believe that it was made different and therefore ugly on purpose.

  Did I mention his voice? The cute little inflections he used to make in words are gone. Now his voice just sounds like the voice of every other adult character. If you close your eyes, there’s no way you’ll be able to tell it apart from others.

  But wait. We’re not done yet. There’s more.

  (The moment this had come on screen I regretted ever tapping on the play button.)

  Why. Why. Why? Oh god, why…?

  He’s so round and ugly… The hairs… On his chest, on his arms, on his freaking shoulders! The way his belly is shagging downwards… Eww…

  Now, because some might misinterpret this, I’m not saying his weight is the problem. Of course Eric will be heavy in adulthood as well – it would look weird (and OOC) if he got a six-pack out of nowhere – that’s not what I’m saying. It’s the way the weight is distributed that is the problem. And certainly the fact that he looks so greasy and old.

  But maybe…just maybe…I could have looked past all of that…

  If they hadn’t made him the shortest one out of the group.

  *Trying to contain rage* This picture infuriates me so much…

  Eric’s father was a football player. They’re tall. If you don’t believe me, all you have to do is a simple Google search.

  So then why – oh why – did Kyle, with the shortest mother out of the rest and what appears to be a father of average stature, turn out to be the tallest, and not Eric?

  “But nutrition and diet play a role too, not just genes-”

  I don’t care. That’s not always the case. Sometimes genes overpower nutrition. But even if it was, this is a show about fourth graders who travelled to space – now people wanna think about realism?

  “But Kyle and Stan’s designs are based on Matt and Trey”.

  So? That’s not an excuse not to give Kyle Matt’s height and make Eric taller than him.

  Overall, this is a design that I do not think fits Eric at all.

  But maybe…maybe…I could have excused all that. (Eric’s design is not what attracted me to him in the first place. I could have ignored how he looked entirely.)

  If Rabbi Cartman’s personality was anywhere near close to Eric’s.

  *Sigh* Let’s get to the second part.

2. Characterization

  Rabbi Cartman looks like someone who is kind to his family – loving, even – can get along with his friends, on the surface level, at least, but also has a darker, manipulative side.

  It was when we got to see that darker side that I could see some remnants of Eric’s usual personality. However, everything else about him is off.

  First off, Rabbi Cartman is, well, a rabbi.

  How? How did he leave all of his usual ideas he has been clinging onto for years and took up Judaism? When did this inane 180-degree turn happen in his life?

  Eric has never shown enough motivation to make a change in his life and try to be a better person. Besides, the whole point of his character is for him to be the most insufferable and terrible person he can be, all while being amusing for the viewer. With this drastic change of heart, his whole concept is essentially diminished.

  So no, I can’t just accept that Eric woke up one day, decided he wanted to be a Jew and left all of his racist/nazi tendencies behind. Perhaps if they’d shown us some snippets of his past and we could actually see how he developed, maybe I would have considered it. But now there is no way I can believe that Eric made a genuine change because he was unhappy with himself.

  Nor can I accept that he has found love.

  During both specials, he is not shown being rude towards Yentl even once, which comes in complete contrast with his behavior towards Heidi while they were dating. Does he love Yentl? Personally I cannot believe that. I do not believe that Eric is capable of love, and I certainly cannot believe it without any kind of explanation.

  Why does he love Yentl? What is it that he gains from her? How did he end up liking her enough to marry her?

  Love and marriage aside, Rabbi Cartman is a father. Not of one, not of two, but of three children.

  To me, Eric does not seem like the type to want kids. At all. Why would he want to take on responsibilities that do not directly benefit him in some kind of way? And yet, Rabbi Cartman tends to his kids, without complaining and occasionally even tries to “discipline” them. It makes absolutely no sense. Eric is an extremely selfish being. How can Rabbi Cartman care about his kids so unconditionally? Without personally benefitting whatsoever?

  The only part of his personality that has stayed somewhat similar to his canon one is his obvious dislike for Kyle. Which doesn’t even come into play until later.

  Rabbi Cartman has clearly been thinking about Kyle for quite some time now, and it’s that obsession of sorts that is reminiscent of his younger self. But that just isn’t enough. This is still not Eric, because Eric’s entire character is not based on obsessing over Kyle, it never was. Kyle is just a part of Eric’s character. Perhaps a large one when compared to some others, but still just a part.

  And as for those who say that he is able to change:

I do not/cannot believe that at all and

Again, we didn’t even see how exactly the change happened.

  You can’t expect me to believe that such a precious and fascinating character – a gift of a character, really – was butchered just because a random special that was only made for a deal with Paramount+ said so.

  Now that we’ve gotten Rabbi Cartman out of the way, let’s talk about Homeless Cartman for a bit (I can’t call that thing “Eric” either).

  Oh dear…

  This ending makes zero sense for him as well. It’s obvious that Eric has a self-destructive and dangerous personality, but his instinct of self-preservation is also quite elevated. He will do anything he can to survive and to save himself from hardship. And that means anything – that boy has no scruples of any kind. Combine that with the fact that he can be very smart, calculating, manipulative and innovative and you get a person who is simply too qualified to end up on the streets in the pathetic condition Homeless Cartman is seen in.

  There is always a way out for Eric. Even when he is leading a movement that is planning to eradicate all non-gingers and he re-discovers that he is not a ginger. Always.

  But even if he made some mistakes that led to him being homeless, it would be for a very short period of time. (Homeless Cartman looks like he’s been roaming the streets aimlessly for quite some time.) Eric would figure his way out of whatever tough situation he would be in.

  Conclusion:

  I cannot take the Post Covid Specials seriously when they do not take themselves seriously. (And I mean that in the context of South Park, which is, of course, a comedy.) I do not even consider them to be canon.

  The impression they give me is that Matt and Trey did not care about giving Eric the treatment he deserves, or a believable future. They just wanted him to be the punchline to a couple of jokes they had in their heads.

  “So you know how Cartman is a nazi? Wouldn’t it be hilarious if we turned him into a rabbi who’s happily married? No one’s gonna see it coming”.

  Which of course is their right – it is their show and their character, duh – and at the same time I have the right to hate it.

  Lastly, I do suppose I kind of hate the Post Covid Specials’ “heritage” in the fandom too. It just fueled more people to headcanon him as the shortest in the group and as the more submissive one in fics – namely, Kyman ones. I wholly disagree with both these depictions – without that meaning that I have a problem with people sharing their own opinions. Both of these things you wouldn’t see nearly as often before the specials came out.

  I think I’ve said this on Twitter, but I’ll say it again here:

  If I was somehow given the choice of either bringing Scott back to the show or forever erasing the Post Covid Specials, I would choose the latter no questions asked. (And this is coming from someone who loves Scott a lot, so it is a big deal.)

  I guess we’ve reached the end. If you’ve actually read this far, thank you!

  I’d say I’m sorry if I’ve made you bored, but you were warned.

  Thanks for giving me an excuse to talk about this!

[thelittlemage-arts]

Searching

Another Minder drabble. This time, in her perspective.

I rarely have to leave the tower and gather my assets, but Longarm Prime believed that whatever information this con had was necessary. Cypher was busy taking care of a high-value target on the outskirts of Iacon.  So this was good practice. I can still get the job done, even if I detest it. I didn't expect him to want a debriefing before I even started the actual work. 

"The target was easy to locate and flush out but was uncooperative, leaving me little choice but to rely on a more…ugly method," I explained. Longarm looked mildly disappointed, which was expected. Not everyone could retrieve information from just the processor, more so if said processor belonged to a now offline target. It was risky, and the chances of losing the information increased the longer the target was deceased. Corrosion sets in, and if you aren’t a memosurgeon, you’ll likely have your time cut in half just to do things manually. 

It didn't take long for him to dismiss me, and I was going to my habsuite to crack open this cranium in peace. 

"I want to know what a little thing like you has hidden within…." I began the procedure, cutting away at the top of the head to reach the processor. 

I wasn't a memosurgeon. I dont have the tools or the training. I was, for lack of a better word, self-taught. But I'm good at what I do. So small wires were attached to the golden orb and the surrounding areas before plugging them one by one into my computer. Everything booted nicely, and there wasn't much in the way of a firewall between me and this mech's memories—his knowledge.

"You're an old one, with how easy it was to break in." I looked down at the lifeless head on my desk, mouth open. 

"Oh, don't worry, I'll preserve your memories; at least a part of you will be timeless," I reassured the con. 

The further down I go into the streams of data, the more I begin to think that this was all for nothing. Pointless little tidbits, drinking with friends, complaining about the fact that he has to register so on and so forth. Nothing that would have made him a target for intelligence. A target for some rookie police officer high on authority? Yes, absolutely, but not me. 

"Why on Cybertron would Longarm want me to ... .oh?" 

There it was. A little glimmer. A treasured memory. But the lines of data were inadequate in portraying the raw emotion this mech felt. I could ignore it and keep on. But primus, am I curious. 

The panel on the back of my head opened; there was a transfer port there. I could connect myself to this con and see what he saw ... .it also would be easier to sort through the memories. The only danger was the possibility of emotional imprinting. But I wasn't worried. My conviction is more substantial than some grunt's emotions. 

I think I know why Longarm wanted me to find this con. To better understand why they continue to fight for a mech who perished some stellar cycles ago. This was my first time seeing Megatron, and it was through the optics of a Mech he had once saved. The devotion was on par with my own. But his was close to obsession. It was sad. To devote your whole life…and then to be left with only the burning defeat and the loss of your beloved leader. I do pity the poor thing. Drinking must have helped ease the pain. 

"You sad little thing…the Tyrant would never love you." I tsked, pushing past these golden memories…ah there it was. Locations of his friends in hiding. "Boring." Oh, something about a warehouse full of weapons and drugs. "Oh? All this for the cause? I doubt your beloved Megatron would approve of you seeding the streets with drugs." 

Nothing else was of any use. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't slightly disappointed in that little fact. 

"How sad, you died for nothing, the only interesting thing was Megatron, and he's also  very much dead." I did as promised and saved the acquired memories on a separate file. I'll return to it later, and perhaps there was something that I missed. Something further down, or some type of context clues I can find under closer inspection. But my time was running out. Nothing else in this head mattered. It was more or less history. From the day he was put online to the rebellion, the war. And now this. Everything was history.  

"You put up a fight…to be brave? To be worthy of Megatron's gift to you? What gift? He saved your life, and  instead of doing anything remotely productive, you decide to smuggle weapons and drugs." I huffed, motioning in the direction of the severed head. "But, I did make a promise. Your friends are safe." 

[ro-valerius]

Calm Before the Storm: No Time to Process

Blomma once more doles out sage advice and a listening ear, this time for Tofu. Miyu [mentioned] belongs to @ffxiv-f13ndish and Kore [mentioned] belongs to @sorrel-haven

Tofu sat on the ground against the wall in the corridor on the far side of the neighborhood, knees drawn up, face pressed against them. His hands sat limply on the ground at his side as his mind raced. He’d rather not have to think at all, but these were things he couldn’t exactly avoid. Not that he knew what to do with any of the things that he had to think about. He wanted to disappear…

“I thought I’d find you here, dearest brother,” a familiar voice said softly from the tunnel beside him. He turned his head to see Blomma giving him a gentle smile. That smile hurt him.

“...How did you-” he started.

“You always come out here when you need time to think alone… Don’t worry, I’m the only one that knows you come here like this,” she cut in as she made her way towards him, settling down on the ground beside him. She had never seen him look so small… He turned away from her, his hands clenching at his sides.

“How did you know?” 

“Dear brother, I like to think that, outside of Ro, I know you best,” she said, though her expression turned downcast. “The only time I was the last to find out about something was…about your condition.” The words were so soft he almost didn’t catch them. 

“Why’re you here?” he asked. She was quiet for a moment before reaching out and taking his hand. 

“I… Out of everyone, I thought you might need to talk the most,” she murmured. 

“So I guess that means they already talked to you, then.” He pressed his forehead into his knees.

“Does that upset you?” she asked calmly. He shook his head.

“...No. I…probably really hurt her…and confused Miyu… I am glad they had you to help them sort through their own thoughts.”

“Well, it’s your turn, now. Tell me what is on your mind. Tell me how I can help you,” she said, leaning against him and looping her arm around his. “And no teasing this time, I promise.” 

A soft snort left him at that, and she counted it as a win. He leaned his head against hers, focusing on the sound of her breathing instead of the way his chest felt like it was going to be crushed under the weight in it. Bit by bit, with each breath, he felt the knot in his chest loosen ever so slightly. 

“It’s a lot, all at once, you know? I-I feel like I’m drowning. When I was sick, everything that I had been trying to forget reared its ugly head, and the worst part is, Kore had to witness it all. Unprepared, unwilling, unable to escape… On top of Tuturoko getting closer to the house with each attack, and that bastard Magnus sending people after Miyu… And then there’s this. Everything else is stressful, but manageable, I can handle that kind of thing. But this…”

He got quiet as he tried to gather the thoughts in his head. She waited patiently, knowing full well he had a lot to get off his mind.

“I…don’t…understand any of it. I don’t understand why. Why me? There’s nothing special about me, I’m nothing, I don’t-”

“I am going to stop you there, dearest,” she cut in firmly, though there was no trace of anger in her tone. She sat up straighter, tilting his head to face her with her free hand. 

“I…understand that you have spent a large portion of your life believing that you aren’t worth anything. But, what I want you to work on is trying to see your good qualities. I know it won’t be easy, and it will take a long time. But the next time you start to think these sorts of things, these ‘I’m nothing, I’m worthless’, those kinds of things? I want you to stop. Think of one good thing at a time. And if you need help, here are a few to get you started;”

“The time you stayed up with Hana all night while she was sick, humming to her until she fell asleep each time she woke up-”

“Anyone could have done that-”

“But you did. Don’t interrupt me or I’ll have to bonk you, too.”

He huffed, but nodded. She smiled warmly at him. 

“The time Ro came home hurt and exhausted. You, without hesitation and without question, helped treat her wounds. And then there are all of the recent examples; rescuing and protecting Naria, rescuing Fiora, looking for Miyu when they went missing, putting yourself between your brother and danger. You’re noble and kind, Tofu.” 

“And this…worrying about if you hurt Kore, worrying if you confused Miyu. These are kind sentiments, darling. If you were every bit as despicable as you thought you were, you wouldn’t care nearly as much. Now you may speak,” she said, leaning once more against him.

He was quiet for a long while. She could see the gears in his head turning as his eyes flickered back and forth, his brow furrowed and his jaw tensed. 

“Blomma…all I do is hurt the people I care about. All of what you said is nice in theory, but at the end of the day, I still do nothing but cause problems for the people around me. Fiora has been trying to help me find Tuturoko, day in and day out, on top of trying to research into both of our conditions, and she hasn’t had a decent night's sleep in…weeks. I constantly impose on you each time I come home injured. A-and… Kore got hurt because she wanted to find a solution to my condition -- A solution, mind you, that might not exist.”

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt for my sake, to grow exhausted for my sake, to-”

“Why is it alright for you to get hurt for the sake of others, but not the reverse?” 

“Because I don’t mat-”

She reached up and bonked him on the head, a bit more aggressively than she intended, but not hard enough to do any real damage. She cleared her throat and huffed, turning away from him stubbornly, for once acting like the third youngest of the family.

“You do matter, Tofu. Whether you like it or not, the same way that your loved ones matter to you, you matter in return. You don’t get to decide that it’s a one way situation.” She sighed heavily and faced him again. 

“Even if you do end up hurting one or both of them, they’ll be fine. They can handle themselves, it’s part of life. It won’t be the end of the world for them, Tofu. So, be true to yourself, and true to your own heart. But, that means you’ll have to figure yourself out. The rest will come later. For now, though, don’t stress yourself out over any of that. You have other things to worry about, and that’s fine. Those can come first.” She took his hand again, this time in both of hers, as she leaned against him once more. 

“And remember that you have us to help you with all of these things. I’ll talk to Fiora, see if I can get her to take a break now and again, see if I can’t get her to agree to accepting help. If needed, Daen Lad can take on some of the things she feels responsible for.” 

“As for you…don’t worry about imposing on me for help. I adore you, and…well, what I do is all I can do. Offer an ear, advice, medical treatment… Sometimes I get to play the negotiator role. I can’t do half of the things you do. But I’m happy to do what I can, for you and for the others, too.” 

They were quiet for another long moment, with him listening to the sound of her breathing to center himself, and her running her fingertip idly over the blue gem in his ring. 

“You’ve been carrying a lot, lately. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner,” she murmured. 

“I wouldn’t have talked if you had.”

“...”

“...Thanks, Blomma.”

[arcanephantom]

Hi…

I’m not too sure how to start this or even know what I’m doing. Ha ha, motormouth Conner doesn’t know what to say for once.

Look I try my best to be serious and vulnerable but a lot of the time I mess up and there are even times I say the wrong thing. Sometimes so wrong that it makes you angry and right now I know that’s the last thing I want considering what just happened and what you learned. So instead of being there and possibly getting so worked up with my emotions, possibly ruining everything. I decided to write this letter instead. And try to let you see how I feel about all of this and read my side of things. So here I am locked in the basement writing to you and doing my best to not make an even bigger fool of myself.

Here goes nothing.

I just wanted to let you know how much I love you and how much you mean to me. Starting with not apologizing. I’m not gonna stand there and try to tell you I’m not that scary guy. I am that scary guy and if I were to ever get placed back in that situation, I’d do it all over again. I know it’s a lot to handle and I know it makes you see me differently. But that’s okay, I want you to see him because he’s what’s real. I won’t let you look at me through rose-colored glass anymore and I had to let you know the ugly truth. There is a part of me that feels shame for the things I did, but also a part of me that doesn’t regret it. I want you to know that a majority of the things that I did were for you. You and Braxton and all of the other agents. I did what I did so you never had to see how things really were. I did what I did so that you never had to witness the horrors and shameful relentless things that they did. I did what I did so that you could live a somewhat normal life once it was all over. To keep you safe, and smiling. To keep you alive.

As for what they did to me, of course, I feel shameful. I felt like I deserved it. Maybe I really wasn’t that different from them, and maybe I’m not for what I did, I’m not totally sure. I’ve hurt people, people who once helped me, and I’ve killed people. Even with my bare hands, and I know to read that I’d jump back into that isn’t comforting. But I want you to believe me when I say I only mean that if I were in the CIA and if your life and everyone else that means something to me were in danger. That is the only time. I promise.

I know you’re probably afraid of me after learning what I’ve done and I don’t blame you, but please know that it’s not all who I am and that I needed to do it. I won’t lie to you though, it hurts knowing you’re afraid of me because I tried so hard to make sure that would never happen but there ain’t much I can do about that now. And I still won’t apologize for being that scary guy.

I will, however, apologize for my bad timing. I know I should have been open and honest and told you everything long before I proposed. I’m sorry that I was an idiot and said “all in all I’m still Conner” but you didn’t know who the hell that even was until now. I was just so excited and the moment I got the courage to go out and buy the ring I couldn’t wait to see your face after I asked you to be mine forever. Can you really blame me? I mean not to seem too creepy but I knew that night that eventually I wanted to ask you to marry me. That moment when you took my hand, placed it over your heart and said those incredible things. I knew that one day I had to take that step and come that morning that’s all I could think about. I had tunnel vision and when I had the ring in my pocket I knew I wanted you to have it right then and there. I’m sorry I was too excited that I pushed all of that other shit aside and asked you to marry an idea rather than let you see the real deal. You deserved to know long beforehand.

But none of that means my feelings aren’t true. You have always meant so much to me. Hell, even before I met you, when I looked through your profile I just saw something in you… and I thought you were cute from your file picture. Then when I saw you in person all the better! That’s… actually why I kept looking over to you, I wasn’t “inspecting” you, you dork I thought you were cute. And even after I first talked to you, and you were, let’s say less than fond of me, I still thought you were cute. Sure you were extremely irritating and there were times when I got fed up with your attitude and yelled back. Also, there was a time that Mae had to stop me from throwing an exercise ball to the back of your head during warmups, but still. Uh if it makes you feel better I was in “time out” for a good fifteen minutes after that. And then I accidentally popped the ball while sitting on it.

…Anyway.

What I was trying to say is that I have always loved you Zachariah, even when you thought you were some skittish dork or “baby giraffe” as you put it. I still saw so much in you and I couldn’t be more proud of the man you became. You made the decision all on your own to prove yourself and to exceed expectations, even mine. You are so strong, resilient, skilled, and capable of so many incredible things. And I know you wanna thank me for that, but again, /you/ decided on your own to learn all that you know. I really am so very proud of you and meant all that I’ve said so far. Despite everything that happened and what you’ve learned, not a second passed where I didn’t love you and every day I wake up and get to have someone as wonderful as you in my life makes me fall harder. I’ve never felt happier, calmer, or safer than when I am with you and I wouldn’t even know what to do without you in my life. Nor do I want to ever imagine it.

I know I don’t really say it as much as I’d like to at times. But just know that every act I do is out of love even if it’s as simple as letting you get away with calling me Hercules or listening to your countless movie references that I don’t get that much.

Just know that I am always loving you and am trying to at least show that as often as I can. I also want you to know that I’m so excited to marry you and that’s all I can think about. I’m still over the moon that you’re gonna be Zach McAlister one day.

Lastly, I wanna thank you. Thank you for letting me be how I can be and still tolerate it. Thank you for letting me go after a lifelong dream even though you hate the idea of it. Thank you for seeing me for who I really am and accepting it.

Thank you for telling me that you could never get enough of me instead of saying I’m “too much”.

Now go find your idiot who is hiding in the den with his face buried in a pillow because he’s embarrassed that I actually handed you this letter in the first place.

— Love, Conner

[punishprose]

I just want someone to be proud of me. To see how hard I'm trying, because god, am I trying. I'm trying for you, not for me. I could care less what happens to me. It seems as if I'm supposed to be there to stop everyone else from hurting themselves yet no one can do that for me. It hurts, it hurts to be constantly told that it would be easier for everyone if you were dead. That you’re ugly and pathetic and disgusting and you should just kill yourself. Eventually, you start to believe it, even more than whoever said it. You, you hate yourself so much you wish you could disappear and not have to deal with the world ever again. You would be better off dead, so you try. You silence your cries when the blade catches against your skin, you gather your sleeves all the way up to your hands and the only thing anyone can ask is if it's a trend. You are conflicted, you want them to notice so bad, so bad that you eat less and smile less and have the same apathetic look on your face that no one can see through. Simultaneously, you know what would happen if they did find out. They would look at you like you're even more broken and fragile than they did before. They would pity you forever, not realising that that’s the exact thing you don't want. The exact reason you hate yourself. So. You want to disappear. You want to stop feeling, stop thinking, fall asleep forever and never have to wake up. But do you want to die? You convince yourself that you do, but then you always have excuses for why you can't. “People love me.” The same people that told you you should kill yourself? “They would be so sad.” WHAT ABOUT YOU? YOU ARE CONSTANTLY IN A STATE OF NOT QUITE ASLEEP, NOT QUITE AWAKE. HOW MUCH BETTER ARE THEY FEELING? Recently, you’ve been starting to care less. (Another thing to hate yourself for.) Who cares if they feel sad? WHO CARES? You have been falling, for months, for years now. Maybe your purpose is just to talk others out of the same stupid, stupid things you do to yourself. You don’t even like the glide of the blade against the skin, the searing pain that always passes too quick, too quick. You treasure the aftermath, the blood, the pain you feel when you sit down, the numb sensation of knowing why you’re feeling like this. Maybe everyone likes control. Maybe this is the only thing I can control. I can't control how much I eat (even though, god, would that be ideal), I can't control what I do, what I say, how I FEEL.

I feel bad for the people who have to put up with me. I’m narcissistic, pretentious, annoying. Not to mention a liar. You have lied ever since you could, ever since your mom sat you down, and at the ripe age of 7, told you that sometimes it was better to lie, in order to make people feel better about themselves. You replied, like children do, and said that you thought you were always supposed to tell the truth. Because that was the right thing to do right? Wrong. Everything you say should be a lie, because nothing you do is enough in their eyes. It doesn't make them feel better when you tell them that they hurt you, that having to look at them while they were like that was nauseating. So you lie. You always lie.

You lie so much, in fact, that it comes back to you. You make promises you can’t keep, break people's hearts. You wish you could just go back to the way you were. Far from perfect, certainly, but happy. You were happy.

And you seem happy, people say. You seem happy and put-together. What could possibly be wrong with your life? I am. I am the problem with my life. I turn nothing into an avalanche, crashing down on me when I'm alone. The mask I keep up is an exhausting one to wear. Have you ever wondered why I spend so long in the shower, why I lock my doors and shut everyone out, even if just for a minute? You are the polar opposite of who you’re supposed to be, the person your friends are friends with, the person your partner loves. You aren't that person anymore. You have been too far twisted, too contaminated by the thoughts of everyone else seeping into your thin, thin, skin. WHY CAN'T EVERYONE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE? They would be better off without you. You hurt everyone with your words, your useless lies. You are useless, and you deserve to die, coward.

But, after all, you are a coward, so you won't do everyone the favor of just disappearing. Too selfish, too self-centered. It's easier to just shut away. To silently sob underneath your blankets in the middle of the night when the world is asleep and finally, finally no one is watching you. You dig your nails into your palms, checking in the morning if they left the crescent shaped marks you adore, you worship. You check yourself in the mirror to see if your hips still have the raggedy lines you drew on them. 5 days in between, they both fade. Everything always fades.

Hours after arguments you don’t get the closure that you want. You forget for a minute, you forget that everyone would be better off without you, and you partake in the naive emotion of (momentary) happiness. It is naive. It’s naive to think that anyone loves you. They love the person you were, the person they want you to be. They don’t love you. They despise you.

You deserve it.

No one even wants to talk to you anymore. They reply hollowly and pretend they don’t notice that you know they despise you. You dig your heels in and convince yourself they don’t and inevitably, inevitably they prove you wrong. It’s not their fault. It’s yours and it will continue to be yours forever.

You should just stop talking to them. They don’t need to be held back by you, your slow, sluggish, broken brain. They only stay because they have to. Because they too know you’re fragile, and broken and leaving you would make them feel like it was their fault. But you don’t do them the favor of leaving first because you are primarily and eternally a coward.

No wonder no one loves you if they don’t have to.

You wish you could rid yourself of this pain, but it’s impossible. The only way out would be to die. And you want to, you really do (you think). So you search your drawers of anything you could guzzle, anything that would make your heart stop or your liver fail or your head spin. Anything, you would do anything for it all to end.

Failure is inevitable, of course, because it’s you we’re dealing with. A failure. You know it and you know they know it too.

You live in constant dull pain because you don’t want others to. You live so they can smile. It’s a lot, carrying the weight of the happiness of others on your back, but you’ve always done it, ever since you were 10 years old.

I hope they’re happy.

(8/9/21) 

[streetrunnazvol40]

Nauseating Tension

“Okay Google, play the album I Let It In and It Took Everything by Loathe.”

The quiet room dimly lit by the overcast skies quickly filled with sound as I prep my laptop for writing. I take a long drag of my backwoods before I type something.  Four years ago, today was the day I ended the situationship with someone I wanted to marry. She decided to pursue our mutual friend behind my back and I caught them having sex. This is the aftermath. 

The air had turned sour after our vacation. Tension so thick in that 7-hour ride that it'd bust the windows if it had a physical form. A thick, repugnant gas of betrayal, jealousy, greed and lust. There's a certain type of hatred between two friends who turned into enemies. The friends who chose their respective sides revel in the camaraderie of the side they choose, but for what is turned into happiness is just as quickly turned into a putrid and deeply founded hatred of the other side. 

When you make a group of people choose a black-and-white side in a world composed of an amalgamation of grays it dilutes the little purity in the well of truth that both parties have to drink from. 

It creates an unnecessary drought of logical thinking and clarity amongst even the most well composed individuals.  You tend to build a deep distain for someone after you see them turn into something that they promised they wouldn't.  

After all, they promised. 

Hours passed, things happened and my phone vibrated. 

"We need to talk."

"Yea."

"Our spot?"

"Yea otw"

We sat together for what seemed like hours after we decided that it be best if we ended our friendship. Best if we dissolve our group of friends and go our separate ways. We were outside our little alcove that no one knew about, and we didn't want to go back into such a special place for such a sour occasion. Maybe she'll take him there, or maybe I'll take someone else there. It's not ours anymore, I guess, so it's best if I just mind my own business.  

Once she saw my bruised knuckles, busted lip and broken nose, she couldn't look me in the eye. Hell, I probably looked something real ugly being all busted up and bruised. I thought it was an accomplishment to look like this, it was evidence that I was the better man, right?  I looked at her and she opened her mouth, but she closed it immediately. I started to speak, but I just dropped it. I didn't have anything to say anyways.  We'd exchange glances as the other looked away, seemingly proving to ourselves that we'd lost our compatibility in a matter of hours. 

She exhaled and shifted her body, while brushing her hair out of her face as she moved away from me. I sank my head and looked off into the distance down the long hallway that separated us from the rest of the building.

All these battle scars revealed was that she wasn't interested in me, at least not anymore. In fact, it seemed like she was afraid of me. It wasn't the fact that I was fighting, she'd been used to that. Seemed like everyone from my city was angry, and we had a reputation for it. I come from a city of broken spirits, drug addicts, and dulled men. A city where the best you could do was a factory job, or a city job and all that’s left is the anger that seeps out from a lack of opportunities. A city where you have to constantly be aware of your surroundings. I had a flashback of the physical altercation from hours earlier, and clenched my fists in anticipation as I glanced over my shoulder. We made eye contact. 

"You okay?" 

I grimaced. Honestly, no. I mean, I fought three people at once and got the shit kicked out of me, who would be? Had I not been a competent fighter I wouldn't have been able to get one of them down. He was the one who’d wronged me anyways. They won the battle; I won the war. I thought of what I could say that could comfort her, but I couldn't think of anything. 

"Yea."

Another bout of silence. There aren’t any lofty sentiments, just a stillness of death that can only come from the ending of a relationship no matter the significance. it seemed like we were both waiting for the other to say something, but neither of us could will ourselves to speak. 

The floor vibrated, and my phone screen came to life. It was my ex. 

"Can I see you daddy?"

"Yea"

She had to have seen it because she sank even lower. She contorted her face and exhaled. Punching her in the stomach might’ve been softer than what text had done. I figured it'd be best if I leave now before the pain sets in, so I get up and straighten my clothes. 

"I gotta go.”

"I know. Goodbye, Justin."

"Yea."

I heard her sniffling as I rounded the corner.