#you only want it because youre supposed to have it

[falesten-iw]

Survival in Gaza is a fight for everyone and everything, not just humans. Every living thing is caught up in this nightmare, from the smallest creatures to the strongest among us. Take this little cat, for instance. She’s from Jabalia refugee camp, Al-Tarens neighborhood, house number 96, sixth street. Yeah, I know her address. She’s one of us, a Palestinian too, sitting alone in the rubble, her fur matted and dusty, with a raw, swollen eye that speaks of all she’s been through. She’s lost her hearing; explosions shake her tiny frame, but she doesn’t even react anymore. And yet, her will to survive? Unbroken.

In so many ways, she’s Gaza in a nutshell. Life here is a brutal, endless test of endurance. The genocide, the bitter cold, the soaring prices that turn basic needs like food, shelter, medicine into unattainable luxuries. These are things my family and countless others can only dream of.

For families in Gaza, survival itself has become a privilege. Nonprofits that once helped have pulled out, forced away by the very forces that keep us oppressed. And the few who stayed? Acting as middlemen, diverting the aid that’s supposed to be for us. Some prioritize their own networks in distributing aid; others resell what little is sent. Some even claim that half of donations get eaten up by "logistics costs." And then there’s aid that supposedly just "never arrives." So, families like mine are left to fend for ourselves, stripped of even the basic dignity that comes with having our needs met.

I look at this little cat, and I’m struck by the fragility of life here. My family’s hanging by a thread, surviving day to day in a world that seems indifferent to everything we’re going through. And yet, like her, we just keep going. Not because we’re strong or resilient, but because, honestly, what other choice do we have?

If this hits home for you, if this little cat’s fight feels like something you understand, please consider helping. Every donation, no matter the amount, goes directly to where it’s needed most. It can mean a bit of warmth, a moment of safety, maybe even a sliver of hope in these times that feel darker than anything.

From a heart that’s been broken too many times, thank you for standing with us.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead.

Please keep the conversion rates in mind when donating through GoFundMe. Every 250 SEK is equivalent to 25 dollars, and 506 SEK equals 50 dollars and so on.

Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link

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[sleepingdiaryzzz]

"DAD!"

Bruce sighed at the familiar call, instantly recognizing the voice. It was you, the child he never intended to have, thrust into his life by forces beyond his control. He still wasn't ready for this—wasn't ready to be a father.

In the early days, you’d tried calling him "father" or "dad," hoping for a connection. But he’d ignore you every time, barely acknowledging the title. Frustrated, you’d started calling him "Mr. Wayne" out of spite. And to your surprise, he responded. Since then, you'd settled into calling him as if he were just another public figure, like some distant acquaintance. You learned quickly that Bruce Wayne didn't want to be publicly labeled as your father, that he wasn’t comfortable with the label at all.

But now, hearing that word—"Dad"—from you in public, his irritation rose. He’d told you ages ago not to call him that outside the manor. Yet, there was also a sliver of satisfaction; he finally had a reason to confront you over it, something he’d oddly wanted since you’d moved in.

Turning around to find you, Bruce stopped short. There you were, arms around Harvey Dent, laughing in a way that sent a pang through him. It was the kind of bright, easy laughter he’d never heard from you in his presence. The warmth in your eyes, the carefree lightness in your smile—it all seemed reserved for Dent, a scene that felt oddly father-child-like.

His grip tightened unconsciously, fingers curling around the grass he’d been holding. Harvey looked back at you with an almost fatherly pride, and it stung in a way Bruce couldn’t have anticipated. In that moment, the crowd faded around him, and all he could focus on was the two of you, bonded in a way he hadn’t managed to be with you.

Your laughter rang in his ears like a melody he’d never noticed before, something beautiful and elusive. And for the first time, Bruce felt something new—a desire to be the one to make you laugh like that, a yearning to hear it directed at him. He wanted all of it for himself.

Bruce’s hands clenched involuntarily, his fingers digging into his palms. He told himself that he was better than Dent in every way that mattered—stronger, more capable, more disciplined. But in this, seeing how effortlessly Dent could make you feel safe and valued, he felt an unsettling flicker of doubt. Bruce could face any enemy, any challenge, but standing here, watching someone else make you feel what he couldn’t, he felt almost... inadequate.

The feeling was absurd. Jealousy wasn’t supposed to affect him; he’d trained himself to be above such things. But he couldn’t stop the bitterness gnawing at him as he watched Dent with you, a man whose easy warmth contrasted so painfully with Bruce’s own guarded nature. It stung to realize that, for all his power and reputation, he was losing you to his own friend. Dent looked at you with pride and affection, the kind that came naturally to him—and Bruce hated that Dent could offer you what he hadn’t even known you needed.

And then, through the murmur of the crowd, your voice rang out again—“Dad!”—directed at Dent, not him. Something twisted painfully in Bruce’s chest, his vision blurring as he watched you lean into Dent’s embrace, trusting and relaxed. The sight was a punch to his pride, yes, but more than that, it was a revelation of all he’d pushed away, all the moments he’d let slip by because he hadn’t wanted to be vulnerable.

For the first time, Bruce felt an unfamiliar desperation creep in, a fear he’d never faced even in the darkest moments of his life. Losing you to Dent seemed almost absurd, yet it was becoming a reality before his eyes. He was starting to see the damage his own indifference had caused, each unspoken word and dismissed gesture now cutting him deeper than he would ever admit aloud.

If only he’d turned around that first time you called him "Dada." If only he’d been there, shown you warmth instead of distance. Now someone else was in the place he’d abandoned, and he feared—truly feared—that you were already too far out of his reach to bring back.

(A/n: feel free to use this idea to make a story! Though you needa tag me too😼)

[7nuh]

MR. CRAWLING YANDERE HEADCANONS !

CW 𓂃 gn!reader, gaslighting, canon-typical violence

AN 𓂃 ik i said i'd have HCs for all of them but this ended up being too long so... 🧍‍♀️ also unedited bc i have an exam later ill be back to edit this later pls

Mr. Crawling is the protective type. He spends half of the entire game following you wherever you go and going through great lengths to protect you from the other residents of these cursed apartments. However, I can see how that protectiveness can get twisted in the long run when you remain completely helpless and unable to defend yourself. Mr. Crawling would have no choice but to step in and make decisions for you instead because he cannot afford to lose you just like that.

Out of all the homicipher men, mr. Crawling is the one who has the most respect for your choices and boundaries. He leaves when you tell him to, patiently guides you throughout this maze, and comforts you when you are upset— and he's never violent unless threatened.

Such a sweet and gentle guy would never hurt you intentionally. He loves you too much to hurt you.

That being said, though he'll never intentionally hurt you, he doesn't realize it whenever he's being possessive and suffocating you instead. After all, having wandered these halls for so long has desensitized him to violence and made him forget all his human memories. Simply put, his concept of love is warped in its own way. He doesn't understand nor remember how to healthily love another person by societal standards, but he (usually) means well.

He may not understand love but he knows one thing for sure— you're very precious to him. You're so full of life, so kind (to him), and so persistent to find your way home despite everything. Everyone else just kind of does their own thing around there... but you need him. You give him purpose and he's ready to give himself up for you in return.

But as much as he respects you, he knows you sometimes don't know any better. You almost got yourself killed multiple times despite his numerous warnings, and he's not confident you completely understand him just yet. So whenever he feels as though something got lost in translation, he won't hesitate to push you aside or cover for you in that instance. Thankfully, you can now regenerate your limbs.

You don't know any better. This sentiment becomes a mantra that repeats itself in his head over and over again. The two of you haven't made any significant progress on finding an exit, but you've almost died more than a dozen times by now. How are you supposed to survive without him?

What even is your home like? How can he be sure that you aren't going to get yourself killed over there too? Can he follow you there too to protect you? Can't you just stay here with him instead? Would that be so terrible? Of course he wants you to find whatever you're looking for...! it's just that...

The thought of losing you only intensifies his anxiety and over-protectiveness. Whether by departure or death, he cannot stand to be apart from you. Why are you so eager to leave this place anyway?

Mr. Crawling is gentle, but love can force him to be violent. He's not as cruel as the rest, but it doesn't mean he won't be when you're put in danger, especially when his possessiveness and overprotectiveness spiral out of control. He doesn't want to restrict you in any way because he loves and respects you too much to do that, but you just keep getting yourself in trouble. He overcompensates and goes overboard instead trying to protect you, even if it means killing someone.

And the thought of you moving on and forgetting him depresses him. He knows you had a life before this, but he wants a life with you in it. He'll be selfish just this once, but never again. He'll make sure you're safe here you so don't worry about that! Just don't leave him. Just stay with him, please.

It starts little by little. He starts telling you to rest more often and misleading you farther away from the elevator. Sometimes, when you tell him to leave you alone, he pretends not to understand you anymore. When he sees that dreaded green light from a distance, he tells you there is something malicious up ahead. In times like these, he's glad you're so blindly trusting of every word he says. It's difficult for him to watch your resolve break down, but it's for the best. When you're with him, you're safe and that all that's matters.

I can see some of the others like Ms. Bride and Mr. Silvair being in on it. Ms. Bride is very excited that her wedding garments will be used for their actual purpose this time whereas Mr. Silvair finds your unconventional relationship an interesting area of study. Whenever you find yourself 'lost' (escape from Mr. Crawling), they will redirect you back to him.

Eventually, you do give up. Maybe you even become more monstrous by the day and accept that you're better off here. He loved your persistence, but maybe he can show you giving up and that staying here isn't so bad. After all, you have him. He makes sure to be extra affectionate and cuddly after you give up <3

You'll learn to accept it, won't you? For him? Whatever's beyond those elevator doors can't possibly be better than being loved unconditionally and safe within his arms. You're even free to be yourself down here! You can be as violent as you want, and Mr. Crawling will happily watch you bludgeon someone to death on the sidelines with nothing but adoration.

Alternatively, if you do find your way home, he WILL follow you whether you like it or not. But if you don't want him there... well, do expect a few inconveniences. Whatever it takes to convince you to let him stay or to convince you to come back, really. Maybe like blood on the walls spelling 'me love you' and 'me miss you' or a cold pair of arms wrapping around your waist at night.

[zoe-oneesama]

1. I really just don’t like how you shit on Chloe in your Au considering that she is technically the Main character now because of her having the ladybug earrings.

2. As for unlikable characters exist. Yeah they do but they usually don’t have a really good back story.

Thomas give her a sad backstory, took that away and made her worse ??? It makes no sense. Especially if it was supposed to be a unlikable character. her backstory isn’t an excuse for her actions but yall hate her for the actions and at the same time don’t want her to change.

(Not only that but he ended replacing her with a very boring and rushed character like Zoé.)

Basically what I’m saying it’s just weird for yall to hate a character that much.

I think it's really weird for y'all to be so defensive of a fictional person, yet here we are.

Perhaps you were mislead because her "hero" form was the title of the AU, but uh, Scarlet Lady was never about Chloe. That's why she didn't, like, grow or anything and why we left her several times to focus on Adrien and Marinette. Having the Ladybug Earrings does not automatically make someone the main character, she's the tritagonist at best. And canonically, she's just a side character with too much screen time.

But even if she was the main character, so what? Scarlet Lady's tone is comical, it was never going to go deep (except in the Finale, kinda) and Chloe was never going to get the 5 Hour Youtube Essay Deep Cut in Comic Form about the Wonderful Person She Had the Potential to Become that viewers like you seem to be craving so badly.

And we fundamentally disagree about Chloe's backstory. It's not a good backstory, it's pretty basic, not even entirely unique to Chloe in the very story it's stuck in, and removing it changes nothing about her or her personality and motivations in the long run. It's used as a weak excuse that's only brought up at random to the point where even canon doesn't buy it anymore.

Though I'm not sure why you think that unlikeable characters can't have sympathetic backstories, the point is usually that despite going through the worst and despite the fact that it's entirely possible if things were different for them that the character could've been someone entirely different (and therefore "likeable"), none of those things erase the things they've done or make them more likeable. It just makes them kinda sad on top of it.

But that doesn't really apply to Chloe since taking out her garbage birth giver still leaves her with Andre who did a good job ruining her all on his own.

Anyway, sorry for the rant, but to wrap it up, sorry you don't like how I do things around here, no one's keeping you here if you don't wanna be faced with it or whatever.

[kuntya]

What absolute drivel.

According to you, I'm supposed to go on dates with men ... because some other woman is transphobic??

Shut the fuck up.

4b has a concise definition. Trans people aren't mentioned.

If a trans woman wants to not sleep with men -- great! She's welcome in 4b.

>if you are truly against the toxic patriarchy that exists in Korea, you must also help dismantle military

"If only the meanie weenie feminists would think of the men."

No. Fuck you.

If being nice to men worked, it would have worked by now. We wouldn't be backsliding.

Women, a goddamn lot of men hate you. A lot of men will say that they love you, but then lie to you, and isolate you, and drain the life out of you.

America has voted to take away your rights. Abortion is on the chopping block. Divorce could be at risk. Birth control could be at risk. You could be truly trapped with a monster.

You can support and advocate for men without fucking them.

I don't think dating men is worth the risk.

If you feel the same, join 4b.

I need people to stop glorifying the 4B movement in Korea, from a Western (white) perspective. Stop it. If you are blissfully unaware of this (having not been on TikTok) - in theory, it makes sense. No sex with men, no dating men, no child rearing with men, and no marriage with men. But. BUT. Feminists in Korea are problematic AF. I know this from both personal experience (having been on the receiving end of their ire online) and everything I've read about them, in Korean. I see all these white TikTokers (and even some in the Korean diaspora) fawning over how "we" in the US need this and, no. If your feminism is transphobic, hates gay men, hates men in general, that's not the feminism I'd endorse. Why is Korean feminism transphobic? In 2020, Korean feminists ACTIVELY CAMPAIGNED AGAINST a woman who was accepted to Sookmyung University. An all womens' university. But she was a woman, you say. What could be their problem? According to Korean feminists, they didn't want a "man" in their space. Because she is a trans woman. This is not unusual for Korean feminists. Having lived there for 5 years, to some extent, I understand their anger against misogyny. But if you are truly against the toxic patriarchy that exists in Korea, you must also help dismantle military conscription because that is where a lot of men become radicalized, bullied, etc etc and "grow up" to be the most toxic form of men seen on this earth. But Korean feminists don't give AF about that and in fact, I've read a lot of them express that it's good for men to suffer. Guess what? That view is internalized misogyny and toxic patriarchy, too. And I don't want to hear it about the movement being so "young". Korean women have stepped up to the plate before in our history. We are capable of better than this fucking nonsense. It's a bunch of transphobic, gay hating radicals that have hijacked what was supposed to be about social justice. WOMAD (link is to the Wikipedia article, not their site) and Megalia are the two sites they stem from. It is the most toxic group of people I've ever had the displeasure to encounter online. Any form of criticism is, at best, ignored and worst - I've been "called out" for being Korean-American, and therefore, to "butt out" of "Korean issues". Amongst other bullying I've personally received. And yes, not just on forums but on public articles that I've commented on.

I know it's a catchy title and it appeals in theory but please, please do not glorify these transphobes and TERFs. They don't deserve your attention.

[moonstruckme]

jilly x reader where the reader gets hypothermia

cw: symptoms of mild hypothermia, (implied?) freezing water, non-sexual nudity

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

James half carries you back to the cabin. This is partly because you’re shivering too hard to walk as quickly as you’d like, and partly because your legs simply won’t move the way you tell them to. Your wet lashes feel heavy with the ice crystals you imagine forming on them. 

He passes you off to Lily while he unlocks the front door. She rubs one hand uselessly over your arm through your soaked coat, using the other to unstick a frigid piece of hair from your face. 

They both help you inside. Set you down on the couch, and James makes a sound close to a laugh when you protest about getting wet on his mother’s cushions. 

“Start a fire, please?” Lily is all business, panic making her stern. Or maybe not stern so much as resolved. Her features are set, green eyes alternating between worried and determined, but her hands are characteristically gentle as they unzip your coat and pull you out of it one arm at a time. 

“Love?” 

You realize she’s been talking to you. “Hm?” 

Delicate brows pinch in either concern or relief. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” 

“Oh. Um.” Your chittering makes your words come out jolting and stilted. “Cold.” 

“Tired?” she asks. You put your arms up when she motions for you to, letting her lift your jumper over your head. The thought that you’re the only one getting undressed between your partners doesn’t occur to you; you only know that Lily seems urgent, and you trust her. 

“Ye—yeah.” 

“I think we have an electric blanket around here somewhere,” says James. He’s poking at a log in the fireplace, trying to provoke a bigger flame. “Get her closer to here, love.” 

“I’m still trying to get her out of her wet clothes. Can you help me?” 

James helps you to stand so Lily can tug your trousers off. They stick to your legs but crinkle oddly, stiff with ice. James kisses your temple and murmurs something you can’t quite make out. You feel guilty for ruining what was meant to be a fun afternoon of ice skating on the pond near James’ family cabin. You’ve never heard Lily shout like she did when the ice broke beneath you. 

They wrap you up in an electric blanket and put your hair up in a towel to get it off your neck, and you let James massage warmth into your fingers while Lily makes something warm for you to drink. 

“Jamie,” she calls from the kitchen, “do you all keep a thermometer here?” 

“Um, I’m not sure,” replies James. “If we did, it’d be in one of the drawers in the bathroom.” 

You hear your girlfriend whizz off in that direction. 

“How are you, angel?” James presses a couple of firm, warm kisses to your face, squeezing your hands. “Do you still feel tired?” 

“A little,” you admit. Your shivering has lessened, though. “Is it okay that we left our skates by the pond?” 

“What?” He gives a little laugh. “Yeah, it’s fine. That’s not really the top concern right now, you know?” 

You frown. It’s supposed to snow again tonight. “I don’t want them to get buried…” 

“I’ll go get them later,” James reassures you. He kisses your nose. “Don’t worry about that, lovebug. Just try to get warm, okay?” 

“I sort of feel like you guys are doing all the work for me.” 

James’ laughs as Lily comes to sit beside you. 

“Here, can you keep this in your mouth for me, please?” You nod, but when she slips the thermometer under your tongue she evidently makes a last-minute call to hold it herself instead. Lily’s thumb drags heavily over your cheek. You notice her bottom lip looks colored and bitten. 

“I think I’m okay…” you try to tell her, but stop when she shushes you gently. 

“That’s good, lovely, but don’t talk with this in your mouth.” She gives you a terse smile. 

James transfers both of your hands to one of his, using the other to squeeze her elbow consolingly. Both of your partners watch you intently as you wait. 

When Lily deems it's been long enough and looks at the thermometer, her posture slumps with relief. 

“Oh, it’s—that’s not so bad.” 

James grins, reading over her shoulder. “It must be coming up,” he says confidently. 

You offer your girlfriend a smile. “I told you, I think I’m fine.” 

Lily makes a soft, strangled sound, eyebrows pinching in the moment before she throws her arms around you. You see some of your own surprise reflected in James’ expression as you catch her, bringing her into the heated dome of your electric blanket with you.

“I didn’t know…I was really scared,” she confesses tearily, squeezing you around your neck. 

You rub her back in an attempt to reassure her. Behind her, James is doing the same. He gets his arms around the both of you, holding your shoulders through the blanket. 

“It’s alright,” he says. “We must be doing something right, yeah? Or she wouldn’t be getting better so quickly.” 

Lily exhales a shaky breath. “I am never, ever going ice skating again.” 

“Yes, you are,” you tell her fondly. 

“No. And you shouldn’t either! In fact, I hope our skates do get buried, and neither of you can ever find them.” 

You make a sound of protest, but James speaks over you, “Alright, lovely. We can let nature roll the dice tonight, if that’s what you want.” 

“But James—” 

“Angel, you weren’t witness to your own blue lips,” he tells you, rubbing your shoulder pacifyingly. “I think we’re permitted a bit of overreaction right now. I say bury the skates.” 

You give a little laugh. “You’re both taking this too far. We don’t have to use them, but there’s no reason to leave perfectly good skates out there in the snow.” 

“Mm, let’s say we return to that debate when you’re no longer shivering.” 

You all sit there for a while, holding each other while the fire crackles and warmth seeps into your fingertips. Lily’s hands are actually quite cold around your neck, but you refuse to tell her lest she spring away from you. When the kettle starts to whistle, she sniffs and pulls away anyways, wiping under her eyes. 

“I’ve got it,” says James, standing with a kiss to each of your heads. “What are we having?” 

“Hot chocolate.” She takes a breath, collecting herself. “She needs something with sugar. Thanks, Jamie.” 

You smile at her. “You’re so brilliant. How do you know that?” 

Lily’s lips tilt slightly in response. “I read it somewhere.” 

“So brilliant,” you repeat, kissing her softly on the lips. They’re noticeably warmer than yours, but you feel much more yourself than you had when you first got back to the cabin. “Thanks for helping me.” 

She makes a scoffing sort of noise. It doesn’t sound terribly derisive when it’s bent by fondness like this. Lily touches the backs of her fingers to your cheek, caressing. “You don’t have to thank us. Either of us,” she says. The tears have cleared from her eyes, leaving a raw caring in their wake. “We love you. A lot.” 

Your heart feels more than sufficiently warmed as you close the gap between you again. “I love you a lot, too.”

[nubsdolls]

SYPNOSIS ; g/n reader x sparring partner! bakugou, fluff, not proofread .. matching bracelets , enjoy ! xoxo, jord .ᐟ

A/N; this was supposed to be a lil drabble but this came out longer than i intended .. anywaayss. I PROOOMISEEE im gonna start posting more i’ve disappeared for sosososso long.. in the meanwhile take this, luv u guys !!!!!

sparring partner! bakugou that swears he only bugs you 24/7 to “get your ass to training grounds” because you need to improve. no other reason because of course, he cant stand you.. or anything about you, for that matter.

so no, it doesnt “mean” anything when sparring partner! bakugou comes up from behind you to, “fix” your form. adjusting you by signaling you to rotate to the side by giving your hips a little push, nudging your elbows up so your face is protected by your hands.

sparring partner! bakugou who always insists to be near you, discreetly, if he can. because he obviously doesnt want it to seem like he cares, because he doesnt. even during training or maybe even an attack on the school? near you. covering you and making sure warn you of the sneak attacks from behind you.

and even though you practically hate sparring with him, because hes so damn ruthless, ensuring a trip to recovery girl by the end of it, its weirdly the highlight of your days. hearing the ding! of your phone, followed by the usual message from him.

: training grounds. 5 mins

even when its five in the goddamn morning. you never fail to meet him there.

and after a small while of this cycle, you make the (probably) safe assumption you guys are, friends? acquaintances?..hell, maybe you were even on kirishima’s level of ‘friend’. toleratable? at the least.

so while on one of your free days afterschool, youre shopping with the bakusquad. mina, jirou, denki, sero, kirishima, and obviously, bakugou. god knows how they convinced him to tag along.. you get lost in a cute little merch store, spotting matching all might bracelets. ew, corny. who would even get those?

ca—ching! “aaand heres your change, have a nice day!”

you would.

though, you probably shouldve thought this out.. who were you gonna match with? ofcourse, it could always be mina, but she also didnt absolutely fixate on all might. but, there was, one person you had in mind..

and sometime in the week after the hangout, at the end of your—no less than brutal, training session, you tiredly brought it up.

“the other day—while we were at the mall, i saw these matching all might bracelets—“ pant, “i kinda just bought on it on sight, annnd i didnt really think of who to give the other half to before i did.. but i know you like him, so..”

you trail off, simply suggesting it as you move over to sit down on a bench, taking a drink of water, while also, pulling out the bracelets from your pockets and reaching your free hand up to show him.

sparring partner! bakugou scoffs upon seeing the bracelets in your hand. golden age and bronze age all might bracelets.

“thats stupid. im not wearing that shit.” he growls, crossing his arms. his voice a little panted from training. you were getting better. not that he would tell you that directly, of course.

“chill, dynamight.” you roll your eyes playfully, emphasizing his hero name on your tongue. “i was just suggesting it, if you dont want it its fine.” you explain casually. even if, the sentence did hurt your feelings a little.

“ill just give it to izuku.” you shrug, you guys were friends, pretty close if you did say so.

and you almost swear you saw bakugou’s eye twitch. a glint of, jealousy? in his eyes as you bring up the green haired boy’s name.

he lets out an amused huff, rolling his eyes. “tch. whatever, give it to that nerd. not like i care.” before he reaches down next to you for your water bottle, taking a swing, airsip.

setting the bottle back down next to your thigh, he speaks up again. “‘aight, hurry, we arent done. round two.” he adds harshly, motioning with his hand for you to get back up.

“come on. please? one more minute. its so eaarlyyy.” you whine, almost pouty as you throw your head back. still exhausted from the sparring just a few minutes ago. 6am and hes annoyingly productive.

“hurry or i can blast your ass right here.” he glares down at you, grumbling through gritted teeth.

“im getting uupp, geeez.” you groan, lazily getting up from the bench and almost coming up to meet his full height.

later in the day, during class training, you figure you should probably find izuku to give him the other matching half, one already on your wrist.

you couldve sworn you remembered putting it back onto your other wrist so you wouldnt lose it. maybe it was in your dorm instead? whatever, youd just have to give it to him tomorrow.

today, you were working in partners, testing out new possible moves, strengths, weaknesses, and overall just trying to improve on any weak spots.

and like always, sparring partner! bakugou was next to you. basically having claimed you as his designated partner for anything by now, glaring at anyone who even suggested you work with them and not him.

and as your throwing hits at him, trying to catch him off base with your quirk, you notice a glint coming from under his gauntlet, you pause a moment.

its the matching half of your bracelet, all might’s golden age bracelet.

he notices this. feeling his ears dust the slightest pink from, embarrassment? and he uses this moment of weakness to gain the upper hand, pinning you down on the floor.

and youre completely shocked by the sudden move. somehow flipped on your chest to the ground, arms tucked behind your back with his knee holding you down.

“stay focused.” he hisses, reprimanding you for your bad habit.

“thought you said it was stupid?” you mutter. tilting your head to the side ever so slightly to look at him. a sly, cheeky smirk on your face.

“it is.”

maybe it wasnt so stupid after all.

[muletia]

[tfp] optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you had to go on a business trip. optimus doesn't take it too well

cw: obsessed!optimus, hardcore pinning, angst, i wanted to practice writing dialogues and it shows lmao

word count: 1800

an: i want you guys to know that i am reading EVERY reblog and comment from you swirling my hair and kicking my legs like a schoolgirl

you are so real for that anon

When you, out of your own free will, expressed the desire to join him on patrol, Optimus was overjoyed. You rarely got the chance to be together, just the two of you, always consumed by work or saving the world. And although Optimus wouldn’t dare ask you outright to accompany him on patrols (because the last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable), he deeply longed to spend more time with you alone. He knew he was feeding only his own illusions, fueling the machinery of madness, but by this point, he couldn’t stop. Not when you sat comfortably on his seat, gazing at the views outside the window, visibly content with your outing together.

He wanted so badly for this to be your everyday reality. Maybe then he could finally find some relief from his fixation, maybe you would even save him.

"Hey," you started, and his entire attention focused on you. "Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while."

Oh.

Did your feelings match his? Did you feel affection for him as well? Had you noticed his suffering? Or maybe you wanted to reject him, once and for all, to make him understand that his passion was an illusion, that no matter how much he wanted it, the two of you could never be together — too incompatible, too different. That he had developed this coping mechanism, exhausted by the war.

But before Optimus could spiral further, you crushed his hopes.

"The company I work for is sending me on a business trip," you sighed, clearly dissatisfied with the news. "It’s supposed to take two weeks, but you never really know with these trips, especially since they’re sending me across the continent."

"I understand," he replied, his tone not betraying the turmoil within. "What does this business trip involve?"

"Oh, shoot, sorry! I should have explained that right away," you laughed casually as if you hadn’t just delivered news that shattered his spark. "Business trip is assigned by an employer for training sessions, conferences, exhibitions, and other boring stuff. Kind of like a mission, but without explosions, action, or danger."

It was good to hear that you’d be safe, though you would truly be safest only at the base, under his watchful optics.

Pessimistic, ugly thoughts churned in his processor. Of all the things he expected to hear from you, this wasn’t one of them. Suddenly, he feared being alone, feared his own dreams. Because he knew you wouldn’t be there to comfort him after a nightmare, and nothing else could bring him peace.

"I am sorry to hear we will not see each other for two weeks," he said, "but I am confident you will do exceptionally well on this assignment. You are dependable, unyielding. You can handle anything."

"Oh, thank you," you answered, a bit flustered. You hadn’t expected a compliment. "It just makes me sad to leave Jasper. I don’t say it often enough, but I have a wonderful time with all of you. With you."

"Likewise, [Name]. When are you leaving?"

"The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow after work, I’ll say goodbye to everyone else."

So soon. Too soon. He’d hoped you wouldn’t leave until next week, to at least give him time to mentally prepare for the separation, but you denied him that luxury. Not that any amount of time would have prepared him for this.

Slowly, subtly enough that you wouldn’t notice the change, he reduced his speed, prolonging your shared drive.

"I’m not sure I’ll have time to write," you warned. "Unfortunately, they’ve given me a really tight schedule. But! If I can, I’ll write to the kids. Oh, and expect some souvenirs — I’ll bring something back for you all."

"You do not need to spend your valuable time searching for trinkets. But if you insist, I will cherish anything you bring me."

"Aw, don’t worry—it’ll be no trouble." You waved your hand dismissively. "You do so much for me, for the kids, for the whole Earth without asking for anything in return. You deserve something nice."

"I do not protect your planet for glory or offerings."

"I know, I know. That’s very noble. And amazing. So many years, sticking firmly to your values."

He eagerly soaked up your praise, allowing himself, if only for a brief moment, to forget the world around him, to forget his duties, unfulfilled promises, fallen brothers and sisters. He’d never describe himself as 'amazing', nor did he believe the praise his own kind gave him about his greatness. But for you, he could believe it. If only for a moment, a few seconds, so that you’d leave on your mission thinking warmly of your time together and of him.

"Thank you, [Name]. Please know that I value your words tremendously."

"Oh," you blushed, "that’s nice to hear."

Embarrassed, you quickly changed the subject, unaware that Optimus was watching you closely, curious about your reaction. For now, he pushed thoughts of your departure to the back of his processor, wanting to fully enjoy your presence. You recommended songs from the country genre, one of his favorite discoveries on Earth, which he promised to listen to later. He knew well that this would lead to more daydreaming, imagining a future that would never be. Because no matter how hard he tried, his tomorrow would not be entwined with yours. His desires would forever remain mere fantasies born out of desperation, longing, and sorrow.

A week had passed since you left. In the lives of the Autobots, not much had changed because of your absence; they went on with their chaotic schedule. The kids, however, missed you. No more evenings spent helping them with their homework, working on your reports, playing games, or simply chatting. The worst part was that no one really knew what was going on with you. You rarely messaged, didn’t have time to talk, and when you did, it was just to say, "I’m alive, it’s boring, I’ll message you on Thursday." Life continued, despite how much Miko wished she could play games with you instead of doing her homework.

Everyone managed to adapt to your absence.

With one exception.

At first glance, it seemed like Optimus, the bot with whom you shared the closest bond, hadn’t been affected by such a drastic change. Nothing in his behavior indicated any longing. He didn’t express his opinion on the matter, didn’t ask, didn’t demand. As always, he buried his feelings deep within, playing the role of a diligent leader, hiding from everyone the nightmares running through his processor, now even more intense because of your absence.

He was withering, quietly and alone.

Until now, he had been content simply watching you. He had established a routine, unhealthy as it was, that kept him going. He knew that most of the time when he returned from patrol or a mission, you would be at the base. Even if you came every other or every third day, Optimus knew that eventually, you would show up. It gave him a sense of stability amidst the chaos surrounding him. But now? Maybe two weeks wasn’t a big challenge for you, but he was done after one.

Now, he wanted to be more than a passive observer. He craved physical contact, to hold you close, to feel your heartbeat against his metal. He wanted to know you were alive, to feel your pulse under his digit, to listen to its rhythm, to understand how your chest moved against his metal. He wanted to feel, taste, touch, enter.

He kept glancing at the spot on the couch where you usually sat with your laptop on your lap or spent time with the kids as if hoping that if he looked just one more time, you would materialize there. That everything would return to normal, that he wouldn’t suffer so much, that you would give him the daily dose of antidote he needed to function without plunging deeper into despair. But no matter how many times he looked, you weren’t there, and wouldn’t be for another week.

At some point, however, someone noticed their leader’s miserable mood.

"I can’t quite figure out what kind of bond you have with that woman," Ratchet said, pausing his work to look at Optimus. Before his friend could answer, he continued, "But she’ll be back soon. And whatever she’s doing, she’ll do it well. She’s tough."

"Thank you, old friend. I have no doubt in her abilities. But I would feel better if she were stationed closer to the base in case of a Decepticon attack."

"Mm-hmm," the medic scoffed. "Sure, that’s all it’s about."

Optimus had no response to that. He wasn’t surprised that Ratchet noticed his infatuation, but he would prefer that his friend not delve into the details of their relationship. At least, not yet. Not while Optimus himself was a wreck.

"Hey, hey! [Name] messaged!" Miko yelled.

The Autobot leader immediately approached the platform, finally abandoning his conversation with Ratchet, aware that it would only spark more suspicions. But he didn’t care anymore, not in such an important moment.

He stood directly behind Miko, with Bumblebee and Bulkhead beside him, equally curious to know what you had been up to over the past week.

"She sent photos, too! Look!"

Miko turned to show the messages to the others but paused when she noticed Optimus’s helm close to her.

“Whoa,” she whispered, surprised that out of all the bots, he was the one standing the closest. She swallowed, but her confidence quickly returned.

Holding her phone firmly, she displayed a close-up selfie of you. You were smiling, though the bags under your eyes betrayed that you were sleep-deprived, probably exhausted.

Optimus felt the accumulated stress, pain, and longing of the past week slowly dissipate. Everything was fine with you. You were alive, pushing forward with a smile on your face, happy to simply exist. Admiring your photo didn’t compare to seeing you in person, but it let him vent a little easier, granting him a brief respite from worry, gnawing at him from within. It was enough. For now. For a moment.

“She sends her regards to everyone,” Miko went on, “Oh, and she also asked Ratchet to take a break and mentioned she already bought a gift for Optimus and can’t wait to come back. Hey, I want a present, too!”

Optimus couldn't be certain if another week apart wouldn’t inflict even more damage on his processor and spark, or if longing would eventually consume him entirely. But he knew he was already lost, that you held sway over every aspect of his life. He was wrapped around your finger, tethered by a leash you didn’t even realize existed. And he didn’t mind one bit.

[geschiedenisish]

I mean. I agree.

But fare evaders are literally making things more expensive for the rest of us public transport users.

That's literally like not paying your insurance because "healthcare should be free". Yeah, that's the whole reason we pay insurance, to keep the price low. If you opt out and the rest of us don't, you're an asshole. Yes the rich should pay more, but still everyone should still be part of health insurance! You're an asshole if you opted out and still expect the same prices.

Or when you don't join a union because "workers should have good labour conditions". Yeah, that's what the union is for! If you want good labour conditions, JOIN A UNION. Don't expect to get good labour conditions when you don't even have the decency to join a union!

And don't feel good for evading public transport fares. You're literally making the rest of us pay more. Yes, it would be better if we did it through taxes. But as long as that isn't happening, y'all are being huge assholes by making the rest of US pay for services YOU use.

As long as we don't actually reform the system, you don't get a pass for breaking the rules. "Oh wow, we pay so you can use this service but don't have to pay for it." THE GOLDEN RULE IS STILL IN PLACE!!!!!!!!!! If no one payed, the service would be GONE. I guess that's what you want, supposing you follow the golden rule like the rest of us...... Or maybe you only think about yourself and don't realize what your behavior would mean if everyone did it......

(I understand some people can't pay. But that's absolutely no reason to excuse fare evaders. That's a reason to make it cheaper and/or free. Furthermore, how many people actually avoid fares because they can't pay versus the amount of people who do it because they get away with it!? I know the answer for the city I live in.... (Source; literally everyone around me. I'm the only one who pays because they never check it so no one does it. But I do it out of principle.))

But I guess you're not like the other girls. "You want the pleasure without the burdens" my father used to call this kind of behavior. Well be proud of your hypocrisy and unwillingness to follow the golden rule. We'll continue paying for the services you enjoy. Whether that's through taxes or through fares. WE'LL PAY. It's just the question whether you will or not. And how you'll feel about it towards your fellow users of public transport.....

[source]

[alchemistc]

He's been good. He's been - pretending to be good well enough that no one has been suspicious.

It's just -

That was it. That was The One.

And sure. He can get back out into the world. He can fall in love again. There is a beautiful man somewhere out in the world who will make him laugh, make him cry.

He's just not sure he wants to put the effort in anymore.

For a hot second he'd really thought -

Not that it matters, anymore.

He's pretty sure his leg is pinned. The cockpit is more smoke than air, at this point. He can feel his toes, but honestly that might be more a curse than a blessing.

He's been staring at the phone in his hand for the last five minutes. Ever since he realized he didn't have the leverage to try to move the bracket keeping him from slipping free of the broken, crunched in door frame.

It's selfish. It's the most selfish fucking thing he's considered since he decided to break his own heart instead of letting someone else.

But logistically he's got about seven minutes until there's too much smoke and not enough air in here, and that's only IF the fire doesn't catch somewhere else.

He's got enough bars. And there are two numbers he could call. Two ways this could go.

The phone rings through four times, and on the fifth, someone answers.

"This is a bad time, Tommy," Eddie says, and Tommy feels a little hysterical. The laughter comes in fits, only slows when he gets a nice good whiff of smoke straight up his nose.

"Sure is."

The tone shifts. "Are you okay?"

"It was a bad idea anyway."

He feels woozy. Glances down at his leg and realizes that stain he'd thought was shadow is... definitely blood.

"Listen. I'm - when Evan gets the call, don't let him go alone. It's my fault for not updating my ICE."

The silence on the other line is deafening. "Tommy, where are you? Don't - don't make any decisions you can't come back from." It's a panned line he'd heard at the VA the half dozen times he'd gone.

"Yeah I didn't really make this decision myself. I'm just - I'm losing a lot of blood, here, and there's not a lot of ways for the smoke to get out of this cabin, and -."

High alert has a very specific sound and feel to it.

Eddie's cursing, something is shuffling, he's snapping his fingers in the distance. God, they're probably at work. "Where are you?"

Tommy rattles off his last known coordinates. "I already told dispatch, Eddie. I'm just. They're not gonna make it in time, and I need you to promise me you won't let him be alone when -."

It'd been a trip he would have been riding shotgun for, if Tommy hadn't made sure he wasn't. He's grateful for that, at least.

He's really not expecting much, he thinks. Eddie doesn't have to go far out of his way to support Buck. It'll hurt him, true. But Tommy's gotten pretty used to being the cause of that. And. He'll be dead, anyway, so he won't have to carry that guilt for long.

And then Eddie betrays whatever vestige of friendship they had left, because it's not Eddie's voice that responds.

"Hey asshole. Do you have enough leverage to break the window?"

He's got a good voice. A little gruff, a little heavy.

Tommy doesn't want this.

"No."

"Actually no, or are you just accepting your fate again without even talking about alternatives."

It's not how he thought he'd go. Dramatic final hour phone call, the end of their relationship as a metaphor for the bleakness of his situation. "I'm sorry, Buck."

He's having trouble focusing his eyes. There's a beat behind his ears that keeps slowing down. He thinks he might be hearing sirens but -

"Evan," Tommy says for the first time in six months. "I'm so sorry, Evan."

He says - something. The tone of it is there, even if he can't quite make out the words.

Tommy blinks. Coughs.

There's a phone in his hands.

Why is there a phone in his hands, he's supposed to be flying a -

He'd crashed it, actually.

Well shit.

Damn.

Eddie's gonna be so pissed if he has to find out second hand that Buck's going to get a really fucking shitty call in a few hours.

He should call.

---

When he blinks open his eyes, he finds his fingers first, nearly has a panic attack when they don't move they way he wants them to, except - oh.

There are fingers interlocked with his.

Tommy follows the line of the arm, even though he knows.

"Sorry," Evan says, and there are tears unshed at the corners of his eyes but he looks mad as hell. "You only get one dramatic exit out of my life in a calendar year."

[capseycartwright]

you're my sun, my moon, my guiding star

“Fine, let’s have it your way then,” Eddie slammed his phone down on the kitchen table. “You set me up a dating profile then – Hinge, Grindr, whatever you fucking want, Buck. Set me up a dating profile, and you pick which random man I need to sleep with to make it so you feel okay about wanting me.” 

in which evan buckley gets dumped, gets drunk with his best friend, realises he's in love with said best friend, and lets his abandonment issues get the best of him. because your first is never your last, right? so buck can't be eddie's first: he needs to be his last.

ao3 link

Buck was driving himself to Eddie’s before he could really even think about it, the autopilot of his brain engaging and getting him behind the wheel, and on the road to his best friend’s house without needing much thought at all. Eddie was who he needed, in that moment – not Maddie, and her sage advice, not Hen, who’d be clever, and logical about it all. No, he needed Eddie. Eddie, who inexplicably opened the front door in his underwear and a pink shirt. Eddie, who let them sit in silence, a playlist churning out eighties rock for a full twenty-three minutes (Buck checked) before Eddie said anything at all. 

“So,” Eddie set his empty drink down, gesturing to Buck for a second. Buck twisted the cap off before he handed it over, adding to the pile on the coffee table. “What happened? You said that you and Tommy were going to the movies tonight.” 

Buck groaned, the sound loud in the quiet of Eddie’s house. “I was supposed to be,” he slumped back onto the couch. “But then he dumped me.” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “He dumped you?”

“He dumped me,” Buck confirmed. “Because I am a deeply unlovable individual who is going to die alone.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I think you might be being dramatic there.”

“I’m not!” Buck protested. “Eddie, everyone I date dumps me – or leaves me. That apparently doesn’t even change when I’m dating a man. It’s not – I thought it would be different, with Tommy.” 

“Because he’s a man?” Eddie’s confusion wasn’t judgemental – no, Eddie never judged him, Buck was sure of that much. It was sincere confusion, his best friend wanting to understand where Buck was coming from.

“Yeah? No? I mean – maybe,” Buck huffed. He wasn’t entirely sure how to articulate himself. “I guess – I guess I just thought that now I know who I am, that I’m like – consciously aware I’m bisexual – it might be different. That maybe it didn’t work out before because there was this part of me that I didn’t know, or understand, and that had affected my relationships because I wasn’t bringing my like, whole self to the table. But if it didn’t work with Tommy, then that’s not why. Right? Then the problem is me.” 

Eddie’s expression softened. “I don’t think the problem is you, Buck.”

“It has to me! I’m the only common denominator here.”

Buck wanted to cry. He wanted to lie down on Eddie’s couch and cry until he had nothing left – and it wasn’t about Tommy, really, because Buck had liked Tommy, but the end of their relationship wasn’t what was making him feel so devastated. It was the idea of Tommy, more than anything else – what Tommy represented. A happily ever after that Buck was falling short of all over again. 

“What did Tommy say, exactly? Maybe – maybe you’re spiralling, and he gave you a good reason that you’re not seeing.” 

“He – I asked him to move in with me.” 

“Buck.”

Eddie sounded long-suffering. Buck had earned that. He knew that much. “I know,” he knew it had been the wrong move. The words were barely out of his mouth, and Buck knew it had been the wrong move – but that was sort of his thing, to cling desperately to relationships that didn’t work because he was so terrified of being alone. “I just – I felt comfortable with him, and the whole Abby thing was weird.”

“Really weird,” Eddie agreed, wincing. 

“But not the kind of weird I couldn’t get past. Right? He came over tonight, and I told him – why be apart when we could be together. Then, he said he couldn’t move in with me, because if he did, I would only break his heart,” Buck sighed. He wouldn’t intend to. That’s what Tommy had said – but who ever planned to break someone’s heart? No one was that cruel. Maybe they were – but Buck wasn’t. He’d never wanted to break anyone’s heart, even if that had been the end result sometimes. 

Eddie was quiet for a second. “Did he say why he thought you’d break his heart?”

Buck’s beer burned his throat as he took another gulp, the sour taste lingering. “He said that he was my first, but he wasn’t my last.” 

read the rest on ao3

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 8

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Racism against Illyrians/Lesser Faes?

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Sky didn’t have much of a temper.

Even if she was frustrated or annoyed, she rarely got angry or lost her patience. 

It wasn't that she didn't have emotions. She did. She felt things deeply, passionately. However, she also believed that there was no point in wasting energy on getting angry. It didn't solve anything. It only made things worse. 

So Sky had learned a very, very long time ago…that there was no need to start screaming, because her stutter didn’t allow her that anyway…and that maybe…maybe it was easier for her to just let go off her anger about being unfairly treated. 

Getting angry wouldn’t help her. 

That day however…it burst out of her. Burst out of her like somebody had lanced an abscess. 

Her family could say whatever they wanted about her. But they were not going to say a single word about Azriel 

It was Winter Solstice.

Azriel and her had spent the last month or so enjoying winter season in Velaris…even once trying to ice skate on their lake, which only ended with him kissing her skinned knees, because she was definitely not a natural at it.

They had bought Winter Solstice gifts, and baked cookies…had decorated their house with pine garlands and velvet ribbons…

She had knitted them socks and they had made rabbit stews out of rabbits Azriel had hunted in the forest behind their house. (It was…she had never really seen him as a warrior, even when he wore these black leathers and the blue stone that glinted off him…but she could see him as a hunter, when he came home with a couple of rabbits, ready for dinner. It had also resulted in a new fur lined blanket for her, all ready on the couch. 

She had never outright asked…but he seemd to like it when she was cuddled beneath it, like it seemed to soothe some kind of instinct for him. Maybe the fact that it was the animal he had hunted?)   

Sky and Azriel had both made the decision to spend the days with their respective families and have their own Solstice celebrations the next day…that would pretty much sonsits out of a lazy day in bed and nothing else. 

It sounded amazing. Just what they wanted. 

And it had made sense to celebrate like that. She hadn’t wanted to be the one to keep him from his family after all, even if the thought of not spending Solstice with her mate had hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Azriel had been up ridiculous easily in the morning for a snowball fight that was apparently tradition…but not before he had spent a good half hour making her scream his name with his mouth between her thighs…

Afterwards, she had gotten dressed and left the shadows to amuse Hector for the day… and Sky had left to help her mother with dinner preparations.

A nice, quiet family dinner. Nothing more and nothing less.

That’s what it was supposed to be. They didn’t even get that far.

It all went to shit before dinner was even in the oven. 

From the moment she entered her parents house it was a barrage of barbed comments. About her appearance, her stutter, her lack of an boyfriend…her lack of a proper job. (Sellyn Drake was hers. Sellyn Drake was nothing they got to gossip about.) 

Sky had bitten her tongue. She had ignored the comments, tried to enjoy herself. But Claire never knew when enough was enough.

Her sister kept at it. Kept needling, jabbing at Sky until the little bubbles of anger popped to the surface and boiled into something…bigger.

“I…I met my m…mate,” Sky finally said flatly, after anther jab at her lack of a boyfriend. 

Take that Claire. Not just a fiance. A mate. 

Finally in just one thing Sky had been faster than her sister. 

A mate. That mystical rare mating bond had been a gift from the other for her and not for Claire. 

It caught Claire off guard. She stopped pacing, and turned to look at her sister, brow raised. The look said ‘Oh is that so?’ as if it was the kind of nonsense she had come to expect from her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, clearly not believing a word Sky said. 

But Sky wasn’t going to let this go. “His n..name is Azriel,” Sky said with a smile. “We are ver…very hap…happy.” 

They were. They were so happy. So delightfully happy. (So delightfully happy that Sky had been wondering if maybe…maybe the should start trying. High Fae fertility was hit or miss anyway…why shouldn’t they simply start trying and see where it would take them. And if it took two decades, then it took two decades. If it only took a year or three…well, then they were lucky.)  

Claire narrowed her eyes. She was about to say something mean, Sky could see it in the way her lip curled up.

“He…He's a g…good male,” she said firmly, cutting Claire off before she got the chance to spew out anything else.

Claire laughed. It was a harsh, biting sound.

"A good male? Really, Sky?" she sneered. "You actually fell for that line?"

It wasn’t a line. It was the truth. 

Azriel was a good male. Patient and intense and loving. He had never raised a single finger against her.Azriel would never hurt her intentionally. 

 Claire just wanted to belittle Sky in front of their whole family.

"You must be even more naive than you seem if you believe that," she said, almost pityingly. "You really think he wants you? That he actually cares about you? Nobody could want you. I bet he just pities you."

It should have hurt her, she realised. It would have. Even just months ago, it would have hurt her. 

But right now…right now it didn’t really. 

She was supposed to believe that Azriel didn’t want her? The same male that had spent the better part of an hour on his knees in front of her that very morning, eating her out like a starved male? She was supposed that her mate, who’s arousal shot across the bond like an inferno any time she slipped off her clothes, didn’t want her? That the same male that stared at her like she was a goddess, that spent hours worshipping her body with his hands…that she had nearly made come simply by touching his wings a few days ago didn’t want her? 

Still…Claire's words had their effect. She felt a small stab of doubt in her heart, and she hated it. She hated that her sister could still hurt her like this, still make her feel like that insecure little girl who stuttered and couldn't get a single word right.

“He…He l…loves me and I…I love him,” Sky said calmly.

That was clear in every single one of his actions, in every single word. 

“Where did you even meet him?” Sky’s mother demanded. “And what kind of name is Azriel?”

“In…In a bar. Wh…When we went out for Cl..Claire’s Hen Do.  And I im…imagine it’s an Il…illyrian name.”

Everything ground to a halt.

“He’s Illyrian?!” Her mother demanded sharply. “What’s wrong with you, Skylar!”

Sky flinched at her tone. It was harsh, angry. It was the same tone she'd always used when Sky was younger and got anything wrong or stepped out of line.

"Yes, he's Il…Illlyrian," she said, meeting her mother's gaze levelly. "What's…what’s wrong with that?" she asked. 

She knew that her family wasn’t the…most open about Lesser Faes, but…but that hatred in her mother’s voice….she hadn’t expected that. 

“Everything,” Admon gave back with a snort. “You seriously let that barbarian fuck you? I am surprised you actually survived that and he didn’t just rip you apart.”

Every bit of colour leeched out of her face, except her ruddy red cheeks at these crude words. 

This was Admon. Once upon a time, she had wanted to marry him. To have his children. To spent her life with him. 

And…and this was what he told her to her face. 

“I can’t believe that you even let a creature like him touch you,” her mother breathed staring at her with utter disgust.

“He’...He’s not a cre…creature,” Sky bit out. Azriel was her mate. 

“Is it true by the way?” Her brother wondered. “That Illyrian’s have a cat’s prick?”

"Orin!" her mother exclaimed, aghast. "Don't be vulgar! I don't want to know."

Orin shrugged, a smirk dancing across his face. "What? I’m just curious. I am sure Skylar knows. She must please him somehow when she’s still alive to enjoy their…couplings.”

Sky felt ill. She didn't know what to say, what to say in defense of the man she loved. She couldn't get a word out.

“Did you…did you let it touch you?” Her father demanded finally, his voice icy.

It. Not even him. It. Like Azriel was a thing. 

Sky felt her heart drop to the floor, breaking into pieces.

"Yes," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Her father's face grew stony, and he took a step closer to her.

“How dare you?” he hissed. "How could you let a monster touch you like that?"

"He's not a monster!" Sky protested, her voice rising. "He's…He’s k…kind and gen…gentle, and-"

“And I am sure, he keeps you stuffed with his cat prick to keep you satisfied,” Claire drawled.

And Sky was done.

Somehow that was the last straw. 

Somehow that made something inside her break, irreparable. 

It snipped away every thread that ever kept her close to the family that she had been born into. 

“At least I didn’t need to take my sister’s sl…sloppy s…seconds,” Sky said, her voice flat, meeting her gaze full on.“And yes, Azriel more than keeps me s…satisfied.”

Silence descended over the room, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. Sky felt the tension in the air grow heavier with each passing second.

"You…you didn’t just say that,” Claire said coldly. "You take that back, Sky.

Sky raised her chin defiantly. "No.” she said simply. “I'm…I’m not taking back the truth," she said, her voice ringing with unexpected steel.

"You do not speak to me like that," Claire hissed. "You have no right—"

Something inside Sky snapped. Years of frustration, years of feeling invisible and ignored, years of enduring Claire's taunts and jibes all bubbled to the surface.

"I…I have ev…every right," she shot back, her heart pounding in her chest. “Not so fun when you are on the re…receiving end, is it?”

“Either you end your…dalliance with…that creature, or you are no daughter of mine,” her father snapped.

He talked to her like she was nothing. Like she was worth less than dirt beneath his boots. 

And somehow that made it even easier. 

“You want me to turn away my mate…for what? This?” She asked him, cocking her head to the side. .

"For the sake of our family’s reputation," her father said. "You are an embarrassment to us all by associating with that…lesser fae barbarian.”

Barbarian. Lesser Fae. Thing. Creature. Monster.

All of that said about the male she loved. About her mate. 

“He’s Illyrian,” Sky said, her voice icy. 

“Oh come off it,” “Orin snapped. “He’s lesser fae. The only thing they are good for is being fodder for the armies during war times. Other than that, they are worthless.”

Fodder. 

“We have Lesser Fae ancestry ourself,” Sky responded icily. “Our great grandmother was a River Nymph.”

"That was a long time ago," her father interrupted sharply. "It was one ancestor generations ago. And besides, her blood was not that strong to begin with."

Sky thought back to the eyes that looked back from her mirror each day. Blue and beautiful. The one trace of her that got passed down to her.

"Maybe it was her blood that made you think that opening your legs for that creature was in any way appropriate," her mother hissed. 

And suddenly it was so easy. 

“Azriel is my mate,” she hissed. “I will al…always chose him over you. You can spew what..whatever insult you want about him or his pe…peoople. He’s still a bet…better male than any of you could ever hope to be, has treated me better than any of you. I’ll gladly no longer be your daughter.”

She felt the sting of tears running down her cheeks, but she didn't try to wipe them away. She just stared back at her family, daring them to say more. There was a short moment of silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

She should have expected it. Her mother had always been quick to slap her if she did anything anything that she didn’t like.

Just this time…her hand didn’t make contact.

Sky stared at the tendril of shadows that jerked her mother’s hand back, having suddenly appeared. 

*You. Will. Not. Lay. A. Finger. On. Her,* the shadows hissed menacingly.

Sky stared at the shadows, her eyes widening in shock. They were angry. No. Furious. Utterly and completely furious. Her mother seemed equally taken aback, her hand still outstretched in the air where the shadows had stopped her.

Orin looked like he was about to piss himself, and her father…her father stared at the shadows, his face ashen.

“Come here,” Sky said quietly.

The shadows left her mother to come swarming to her, brushing over her cheek in greeting before wrapping themselves around her neck in a clearly possessive move.

Sky felt the familiar warmth of the shadows sink into her, a small bit of comfort in this awful situation. She turned to her family, her jaw set.

"I’m…I’m never coming back," she said, her voice quiet but resolute. And with that, she turned and walked away, She had only taken a handful of steps when she stopped and turned back, one last thing needing to be said, before she closed the door on this chapter of her life forever.

"I never want to see any of you again," she said, her voice shaking only slightly. "And when we have children, don’t you dare come and ask to have anything to do with them. You don’t deserve to even breath the same air as my mate."

With that, she turned and walked away, her head held high. 

***

Whatever went on between sky and her family…it wasn’t good. He could feel that in the bond slumbering underneath his breast bone.

He rubbed it absentmindly, staring in the flickering flame of the Birchin.

He had won that Snowball fight. Once more. One more victory to add to it.  Not that he particularly cared right now.

*Is she alright?* he asked the shadows.

The shadows were…quiet. And that spoke volumes. Something wasn't right. Azriel's heart pounded against his chest, his instincts urging him to act. He had to make sure Sky was alright. He couldn't stand to think about her being in any sort of trouble.

*Physicallly unharmed,* the shadows promised. *Her family is horrible,* they told him distastefully. 

Azriel's heart clenched at the shadow’s words. While it was a small relief that Sky wasn't physically hurt…her family being horrible made him want to grimace. 

“Alright, I had it!” Cassian snapped at that moment. “What the fuck is going on with you two?”

Azriel turned to his brother, seeing Cassian watch Rhys and himself with an expression of…something. Exasperation maybe.

"What do you mean?" Azriel asked, his voice even, feigning ignorance. He was really not in the mood to get into that either. But apparently he wasn’t going to get that small bit of mercy. 

"Don’t play dumb with me, brother," Cassian said, rolling his eyes. "You are both moody and more distant than usual. What the heck happened?"

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Azriel said flatly. Cassian rolled his eyes.

“Rhys?” Cassian demanded with a sigh. 

“You want to explain or shall I?” Rhys addressed him and Azriel just looked at him flatly.

“You gave the orders, High Lord.”

If Azriel had been in a better mood, he would have smirked. But right now, he just wanted this whole conversation to be over so he could check on Sky. The thought of her made his chest ache. He longed to see her, to hold her, to make sure she's alright. But he knew that Cassian and Rhys wouldn’t let him go without an explanation.

“Azriel and I…had a disagreement about Elain.” Azriel just stared at Rhys blankly. Seriously, that was the best Rhys could come up with? That’s what he wanted to go with?!

"A disagreement?" Cassian asked, brows raised. "What kind of disagreement? A 'we came to an agreement' kind of disagreement, or a 'we punched each other in the face' disagreement?"

“A ‘Rhys sticks his nose into things that are none of his business’ disagreement,” Azriel gave back drily.

“Excuse me, you were going to kiss ELain while her mate was under the same roof two years ago. Did you ever even consider the political ramifications of that?” Rhys snapped. “For gods sake, Azriel!”

Azriel's jaw clenched at Rhys's words, his temper flaring even as he tried to maintain a neutral expression. "You think I didn't consider the consequences? Of course, I did," he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "But feelings aren't logical, Rhys. We don't choose who we fall for, and it's not as simple as calculating political ramifications."

“I told Azriel to keep away from Elain. She fell for Lucien. He’s still moping about it and giving me the fault,” Rhys said flatly. “Out of pure interest, how much longer do you want to keep up with that, Az?”

Azriel couldn’t help the laugh that burst out od his mouth at that.

“You didn’t just fucking tell me to keep away from her. You told me and I quote ‘If you need to fuck somebody go to a pleasure hall and pay for it’,” Azriel repeated viciously.

"And I stand by that," Rhys snapped. "The last thing we need is for you to pine over someone who has made it clear where she stands. Elain has her mate, and she doesn't return your feelings. She’s married for gods’ sake!”

“Whoa!” Cassian cut them off. “What the fuck, Rhys?!”

"What?" Rhys demanded, glaring at Cassian.

Cassian gave him an incredulous look. "You told Azriel to go to a pleasure hall? Seriously?"

"I was trying to be helpful," Rhys said, his jaw clenching.

"Helpful?" Cassian asked incrediously. "Helpful would have been to be a little more understanding towards your brother's feelings. He does have them, you know,” Cassian said sarcastically. 

"I know that," Rhys snapped. "But he needs to move on. It's not healthy to keep pining after someone who doesn't return his feelings."

“Where was this opinion for the 500 years of me pining after Mor?” Azriel snapped. 

Rhys's expression darkened. "Don't do that, Azriel. Don't bring Mor into this. She's not relevant to this discussion."

”Not relevant?” Azriel gave back with a laugh. “I think she’s very relevant. You don’t trust me to act like an adult about my feelings. You ordered me to behave like I am some kind of rabid dog. More than once, more than twice. Constantly. Like I would ever do anything to put Mor and Emerie’s relationship into jeopardy. Don’t worry, High Lord. I’ll behave. I’ll leave Mor and Elain alone. .”

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, his frustration clear. "This is not about Mor, Azriel. This is about keeping the peace within our Inner Circle. Elain has her own life and her own happiness to think about. Interfering could only bring pain, not just for you, but for everyone involved. That’s why I ordered you to keep your distance. Not because I don’t trust your feelings or your actions, but because sometimes even the best intentions can have unintended consequences."

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Don't give me any of your high and mighty bullshit, Rhysand. You don’t think I am good enough for Mor, and you certainly don't think I am good enough for Elain. But don’t worry, I'll keep my distance, as ordered. I wouldn't want to risk upsetting your perfect little court or ruining your plans for peace. Just tell me who else is off limits, so I know who else I'm not good enough for. Maybe Gwyn? Because remember, ‘don’t you dare to pressure her’?"

Rhys sighed, his gaze softening slightly. "Azriel, it's not about who you're 'good enough' for and who you aren't. It's about respecting people's choices and boundaries. Elain has made her choice in Lucien, and I just want to protect her and the peace we've worked so hard to maintain. And no, nobody else is off limits. You're free to…'seek your entertainment' as you please."

His entertainment. 

Right. 

Azriel snorted, the sound full of derision. “It warms my heart that you give me that permission,” Azriel said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Rhys rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by Azriel's reaction. "I'm not trying to 'give you permission,' Azriel," he said firmly. "I'm just trying to make sure you understand why I'm asking you to behave. I care about you and our inner circle. You're my brother, but I also care about Elain and her happiness. I don't want to see anyone get hurt."

“Have I done anything, anything at all that put her happiness in jeopardy?” Azriel asked, his voices harsh. “I kept away as you ordered. I fucking saved Lucien’s life, so she could be happy.”

"You haven't done anything wrong," Rhys acknowledged, his tone softening. "You've been a better friend to Elain than anyone could have asked. You saved Luicen because you are a good person, not just for Elain's sake. But I still think it’s best if you keep your distance. Not just for her, but for yourself too. Dwelling on feelings that can’t be returned will only bring you pain."

“For cauldron’s sake, Rhys,” Cassian said with a sigh.

Rhys turned his attention to him, the exasperation clear in his eyes. "What, Cassian?" he asked, his tone weary.

Cassian rubbed a hand over his jaw, shaking his head. "You’re so hell bent on keeping the peace you forget that the people in your court have feelings too," he said. "Azriel isn’t some emotionless soldier doing your bidding. He has feelings and desires, just like everyone else. And sometimes it’s not as simple as just moving on."

"I know that," Rhys said, running a hand through his hair. "But sometimes we have to put our own feelings aside for the greater good. As a High Lord, I have to think about the impact my actions could have on others. I'm not trying to shut down Azriel's feelings. I'm just trying to protect him from potential pain.”

“Yeah you did a shitty job at that,” Cassian said drily. “You could have told Mor hundred of years ago to have a conversation with him. You didn’t. But Azriel is supposed to tread carefully not to make her or Emerie uncomfortable. Azriel is supposed to behave?”

Rhys's eyes flashed in anger. "I know I've made mistakes, Cassian. I should have handled things differently with Mor and Azriel. But I can't change the past. All I can do is try to make the best decisions for everyone involved right now."

“You don’t even fucking realise how much of a self important hypocritical asshole you are, do you?” Azriel asked flatly. “It’s okay for you to pursue an engaged female that’s engaged to another High Lord, damn the consequences. But the rest of us…we are told to behave.”

Rhys bristled at Azriel’s words, his own temper threatening to flare. "That's different, Azriel," he said, his voice sharp. "That’s different and you know it. You would understand if you had a…” he hesitated.

"If I had a what?" Azriel prompted sharply.

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh, his fingers clenching around his mug. "A mate."

“Rhys,” Cassian said carefully.

"What?" Rhys snapped, his temper still simmering just below the surface. “He doesn’t have a mate, he doesn’t fucking understand it.”

Aaaaaand…. Azriel was done.

So fucking done. 

“Where are you going?” Rhys demanded as he stood up.

“Home,” Azriel said flatly. “You have my gifts, hand them out. Wish Feyre a Happy Birthday, will you? I’ll be back to do your bidding in about 3 days, High Lord.” 

“I highly doubt that your mother will enjoy your impromptu appearance at Rosehall,” Rhys said. Azriel’s hand twitched towards Truthteller. “Let’s just…”

“Rhysand!” Cassian snapped.

“What?” Rhys asked. 

“I have talked to my mother once since the Sealing of Velaris was lifted,” Azriel said tightly. “One conversation where she told me that she found a new family and that I should keep away from her. So no, Rhys. I am not going to Rosehall.”

Rhys looked utterly shell-shocked by Azriel’s revelation. "Azriel, I..." he started, but Azriel simply shook his head.

"Don't," he said. "Just don't." He didn’t wnat to talk about it. He never wanted to talk about that. His mother could do whatever she wanted. he would leave her alone, just as requested. But he was not going to talk about it. 

“Then I am coming with you. You are not spending Winter Solstice alone brooding at the House of Wind,” Cassian said quickly, standing. 

“I am not going to the House of Wind either.” Azriel answered flatly. “I am going home to my house and I won’t be alone either.”

"What do you mean you won't be alone?" Rhys asked sharply.

Azriel just snorted, “My mate will be there,” he said simply. “She’s better company than any of you.”

“Your...your mate?” Rhys repeated, his eyes widening.

Cassian gaped at Azriel. "Your mate? Why didn’t you tell us? Who is she?"

“Why should I tell you? ” Azriel gave back his voice icy. “I may trust you with this court, Rhysand, but I do not trust you with anything I love. Not anymore.”

[abracadatb-tch]

Thank you, @patricia-taxxon. "nothing short of terminal entitlement" was so fitting.

I was not loving how casually that implication was being made.

Imagine thinking that one's state of disability should be the threshold feature to determine another human's worthiness of basic consideration. Simply referring to a medical condition can make you and your experiences not human enough in some people's eyes, apparently. They'll tell you to humanize your experience by erasing your identity from your story, apparently.

Sooooo

Since "they know"* you didn't mean to, it's their fault now?? You made up a rule that makes their disability unmentionable on account of "needs humanizing", so now their symptoms are their fault??? because they are just behaviors now???? since symptoms are on the silenced list????? Because you said so?????? Wild.

Forcing disabled people to accept the role of not ___enough and therefore at fault does nothing for helping people take accountability for their actions. First of all, they had apologized, so their interlocuteur has already been taken care of. The RSD doesn't go away for the other person, and while they'll have to learn to manage that, they can do so without sacrificing their dignity at the alter of conformity. If the person they're interacting with doesn't want to accept the rate of personal development they're able to deliver during their state of disability, they can draw their own boundary without trying to control or censor anyone else.

..

What has to be missing for someone to default to thinking that would be okay to do? To yourself or anyone else? Like someone with internalized ableism or someone with internalized terminal entitlement and no one else, I'm thinking? Is there a secret 3rd thing? Was I just so thrown off that I'm now missing something here?

* while one may not want to assume it was intentional, one need not ignore the fact that the person they're apologizing to was also not intentionally caring to prevent the attacking and overwhelming conditions. Was the apology for that left out of the scenario, or is the person cast in the role of unhumanized symptom haver the only one who is supposed to apologize?

Sick list of symptoms bro. Now try humanizing your behavior instead of pathologizing it.

[darktrashsoulbear]

Exploring Local Treasures

Ewan Mitchell x new girlfriend!reader

Summary: Ewan takes his new girlfriend on a tour of his hometown Derby, on her insistence, and scrambles to find things to do while also just being so incredibly in love.

This was a request sent in by the lovely Freyja @endless-ineffabilities who persuaded me to share a fic that showcased my insider knowledge of Derby!

Actors Masterlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2019

A big thank you to @gwaynesprincess for beta reading this!

Divider Credit: @saradika-graphics

Any likes, comments and reblogs are always always appreciated :)

A/N: The rucksack is filled with your favourite drinks and snacks as well as extra hair bobbles and his own shopping bags to carry whatever the two of you collect during the day!

The sun was nowhere to be seen, instead the sky was littered with grey clouds and the odd pigeon here and there. Many would describe it as bleak, a fitting description for his location. The streets of the city centre were filled with the sounds of construction which would make you think perhaps it’s preparing for the upcoming Christmas Markets, wrong. There aren’t any Christmas Markets over here, only an ice rink if you’re lucky that year. With a grimace plastered across his face he sighed “I still have no idea why you’d want a tour of this place, love, there’s nothing to see. How about I take you to Nottingham tomorrow where they actually do have a Christmas Market hm?”

“Ewan, babe, I’ve come here to see where you grew up which is right here in Derby not half an hour away in Nottingham!” she refuted, eagerly dragging him along – to where, she wasn’t sure.

“Darling, there’s really nothing to see here, only a few pubs and there’s a decent milkshake place over there,” he fired back ready to head back to the lifts to the car park.

Grinning she manoeuvred herself, so she was before him, walking backwards, dragging him by both hands, “excellent, I’m absolutely parched and besides, aren’t you supposed to be calling me duck here baby?”

Letting out yet another sigh, Ewan resigned himself to his fate and a day of boredom before finally giving in and walking with his girl, pulling out his wallet “unless you’d like for us to get the attention of every girl within earshot then I won’t be calling you duck, my love its almost too common here”

“What and my love isn’t,” she teased leaning in to peck him on the cheek and he quickly took the chance to turn his head, earning himself a peck on the lips promptly followed by a reprimanding pat on the chest.

As they ordered their milkshakes Ewan racked his brain on what on earth he was going to do and how he was expected to provide an entertaining day when it was only three o’clock. Don’t get him wrong, Ewan didn’t hate Derby, but he had long made peace with the fact that it offered very little in terms of entertainment when compared to other bigger cities – sure there were still bowling alleys, escape rooms and a pub on every corner but that’s not exactly revolutionary anymore. This usually suited Ewan just fine when he came home from long shoots away from home and all he wanted was the comfort of doing mostly nothing but in this circumstance, it was a nightmare. Because this was her, his girl, the one. Yes, they had only been together for a few months, but things were going great, phenomenally even. She ticked every box of his and every night he’d send a prayer up to the sky that she felt the same about him. They hadn’t said ‘I love you’ yet but he sure as hell felt it and if the way she looked at him was any inclination, then she did too. Which is why he wanted today to be perfect, he had to say it today – he feared he would combust if he didn’t.

His thoughts were interrupted by another soft tug on this hand as his girl led him over to collect their milkshakes, hers a combination of white chocolate and raspberry and his, a plain dairy milk – he was far too preoccupied to be adventurous today. After checking yet again that she was absolutely sure she wanted to stay, he reluctantly led her towards the pub that was a favourite of his brothers and had become the go to pub ever since he’d first been taken their by his parents when he was twelve ‘The Bless”, ensuring he went the long way to give them enough time for them to drink their milkshake, and for her to change her mind.

Stepping into the warmth of the pub after walking around the city centre was welcomed but he received it with a hint of annoyance due to it meaning that his girl unfurled herself from her position wrapped around his arm, body pressed against his. Although the blinding grin she flashed him as they walked to an available table in a corner towards the back made up for it, her opting to sit next to him on the booth, body leaning against his rather than on the chair opposite certainly did. The pub was relatively quiet due to it being a random Wednesday at three-thirty which Ewan was thankful for as it meant he was able to bury his face in the crook of her neck, lips brushing against her skin as he responded to her questions without any shame.

Their drinks arrived, a water for his darling and an apple juice for him – a decision made after he advised her that it may be best to stay completely sober for what he has planned later, to which she excitedly probed him with questions and general triumphant remarks at her getting him to co-operate. As they sipped their drinks and made general conversation – gossiped – about anything and everything, Ewan couldn’t help but admire the gorgeous girl next to him, glancing over the eyes he so easily finds himself getting lost in, the slope of her nose and the lips that entice him in without even realising. He glances down to where her body meets his, one arm wrapped around his waist while the other switches between taking sips of her drink and wrapping around his, fingers dancing across his own as she plays with the cool metal of the ring on one of his digits.

“So, then I looked at her like yeah, I completely get it but honestly I have no idea what she was talking... mmph,” she was abruptly cut off by Ewan’s lips finding home and colliding with hers. After recovering from her shock, she eagerly responded thankful for the booth standing tall and curling around them as the arm Ewan wrapped around her shoulders tightened and near enough pulled her onto his lap. Believing she’d indulged him enough, his love pulled away as his hand had begun to snake its way up her soft brown knitted sweater.

Between refilling her lungs with air, she wondered where that had come from, his response came with a smirk that painted his angular face “well if you agree to end our little excursion, I’d be happy to give you the full package.”

To which she responded with a breathy laugh and a simple “as if I wouldn’t get it anyway”, rendering him momentarily speechless – because she wasn’t wrong – and she used the opportunity to pull him up by the lapels of his green coat, perfect for the chill in the air, and guided him back outside before demanding he take her to the next place.

With the thousandth sigh of the day, he did just that wrapping his arm around her waist this time and guiding her back into the centre’s main building to the car park, when he quickly explained they’d have to drive to the next location to narrowly avoid the shove coming his way as she believed he was yet again hoping to end their fun early. Reluctantly she agreed to get in the car but not before making him pinkie promise he wasn’t lying.

As Ewan parked up in what he can only assume is an actual parking spot – the car park was so run down he couldn’t really be sure – he took a quick look around, due to the fact that while this was shared between the ‘Rollerworld’ and the Indian restaurant next door ‘Slice of India’ that was its secondary use especially now that it had started getting dark sooner this time of year. With a light jog, he made his way around the front of the car to open the door for his love before she could even think about doing it herself – chivalry to him was not dead – and he happily accepted the “Cheers, Mitchell” and peck on the cheek, that actually landed on his cheek, he got in return.

Grasping her hand in his own (more like engulfing) he quickly led her around from the back of the building where the car park is to the front entrance, making quick work of paying for their entry before making their way up the steps that were far too steep to have a place so close to where people are roller skating. After giving their sizes to the guy behind the counter, Ewan and his love took a chance to survey the place. He again is thankful that it is a Wednesday and its less busy meaning fewer kids for him to accidentally run over or trample, he looks back over at her and sees she’s yet again grinning from ear to ear and has decided that while this certainly wasn’t how he’d have initially opted to spend the day, every second was worth it to see her so happy and he hopes she looks at him that way every day for the rest of their lives.

He was yet again snapped out of his musings by her dragging him over to the seats to put the skates on practically vibrating with excitement and he takes a moment to hope that his lack of roller skating over the past few years doesn’t catch up to him. Which, of course, it did. Multiple times. Any time he believed he had it, the universe sniggered and proved that he, in fact, did not. He wishes he was able to say that it was made worth it by his sweet girl being there aiding and reassuring him but well, if you looked at her any time he was reacquainted with the floor it would seem as though she had front row tickets to a Ricky Gervais comedy show – although she at least had the decency to attempt to ask if he was alright through her cackles.

Eventually, his legs started co-operating, his girl no longer laughed at him (mostly due to the pain her stomach was in for laughing all that time) and they embarked on a shared rhythm around the rink. Neither would admit to it under questioning due to the major cliché of it all, but they did indeed hold hands as they went – once she was sure he wouldn’t drag her down with him. About an hour after their arrival, they both gravitated towards the exit of the rink deciding to grab food on their way back home. As they debated where to go once they’d walked down the too steep stairs, Ewan suggested just popping over to the Indian buffet next door with the promise that the Chinese styled noodles were to die for. This caused her to softly chuckle while looking up at him through her lashes teasing about how “out of everything at the Indian food buffet his highlight was a different cuisine” and just as he was about to defend himself, he looked down at her. Really looked. He looked at the way she looked at him with the softest gaze he’d ever seen, the way she lightly bit her lip while waiting for a response and at the way the hints of her beautiful smile remained in her eyes, and he couldn’t stop himself.

He dipped his head making direct eye contact and said the easiest three words of his life. Her face went from shocked, to happy, to elated as she responded with an “I love you” of her own in earnest. The tension that he didn’t even realise was there escaped his shoulders as he grasped the lapels of his own green coat wrapped around her and met her lips in a kiss that had him seeing spots of white behind his eyelids. A minute or five later, they pulled away from one another, took each other’s hands and walked into the restaurant, where the Chinese style noodles were indeed to die for.

Notes:

As I've said, likes, comments and reblogs are so appreciated

As is constructive criticism, this is my first time writing so some kind pointers are welcome!

Thank you so much for reading!

[muntitled]

Rich Boyfriend Chronicles

Pairings: Zhong Chenle x Fem!Reader

Summary: You know how Chenle got when it comes to money. You know how he got when you spent it. More specifically, when you spent his money.

Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Codependency, So Slight!Toxic relationship, Humor, Domestic Fluff, Slight Angst, Jealousy (Weaponizing Jisung (sorry Jiji)), HighMaintenance!Reader, Hyperfem!Reader, Coercion, Smut (+18) mdni, Ownership kink, Needy!Chenle, Unprotected Sex, Premature Orgasm, Dom/Sub Themes, Dubious Consent, Drunk!Chenle, Dirty Talk, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Subspace

He wonders when you’ll arrive…

You were supposed to be here already. To save him from his friends and their incessant banter.

As Chenle watches the rain droplets running down the restaurant window, he suddenly wishes he never told you to go ahead and have your shopping day alone in the district. He brought you to his city and yet, you weren't even here to enjoy it with him.

But you had pleaded so prettily…

“It's not like I’m going away for good Chenle, I promise I'm just going to shop in the district for the day,” You were already interlocking your van cleef bracelet around your wrist (a bracelet that he bought) and Chenle had watched from his post sitting at the desk. The hotel room was already littered with Chenle's wires from the various gadgets he had set up. His PlayStation was plugged in the moment you two checked in.

“Besides, I'm sure you'll want to enjoy your day off before you're tied down with schedules for the rest of our stay here. Mark said promo in China would be no joke.”

Chenle had spent the morning of his day off consumed by a new video game, but at the sound of your departure, he lowered his headsets and swivelled in his chair to watch you. His eyes glazed over the sundress that hugged your body with my trepidation and much suspicion. His headphones hung lazily from his neck.

“Who’s taking you shopping?” He hoped his inquiry sounded less like a crazed control freak and more like innocent questioning.

A knowing kind of smile had blossomed across your face then as you stalked towards him with your hands behind your back.

“Why?” you tucked a stray braid behind your ear as you neared him, “You jealous?”

Chenle's body immediately tensed when you plopped yourself on your lap.

“Don't be stupid,” he hid behind his usual snark but you could feel his tense muscles shift underneath you. "We have dinner tonight with the others." He was significantly smaller in stature compared to the volume that accentuated your curves but his hands wrapped tentatively around your waist all the same. Chenle's eyes were wide as he looked up at you and his hands held a slight tremor as they rubbed feather light circles on your hips.

“Where did you even buy this bracelet?”

You froze on top of him. “uh, church-”

“They sell van cleef necklaces at church?”

“W-Well..." you swallow thickly, your arms encircling around his neck. "It was a sale! Yes, a church sale, the money's going to charity! Praise the lord-”

“The only charity my money is going to is to you.” he buries his face into your neck and you squirm when he wiggles his finger into your side, eliciting a wave of giggles.

“Who's taking you shopping?” He asked again.

“Well, you are, Chenle,” Your words barely registered in his fogged up bain because you were bending down now, and your lips were tickling the side of his ear as your left hand drifted down his clothed torso, “This is my first time in Beijing,” Your whispers sent the boy hurtling into that very primal part of his brain that was only filled with one thought and one thought alone.

“You want me to have a good time, don't you? That's why you invited me?” Chenle's brain had been reduced to mush and his grip on reality was fumbling by the minute. All he could think about was your hand lining his boxers.

“Yea-” his voice cracks and he lifts his hips ever so slightly, trying to steer your hand to the right place, “You want me to have a good time on this trip right?”

You were absolutely diabolical. Watching his eyes flutter shut as the Beijing sun drifted through the curtains, extenuating every needy twitch along his visage.

In complete vulnerablility he said, “Yeah,” he whispered again, “Fuck, I’ll give you anything, I’ll do anything, just… carry on-” The smirk on your face grew until you were swiping your palm over the hard bulge in his sweatpants only momentarily before you drifted your hand to his left pocket. The little amount of contact was enough to have Chenle raggedly exhaling as his hips stuttered and a rash shiver wracked through his spine.

You sit back up again, on your haunches, still seated on his lap with his wallet dangling from your fingers.

“Shopping allowance, please and thank you,” You hand him the wallet with a cheeky smile and a bowed head.

Chenle rolls his eyes, turning his head to stare out at the Beijing metropolitan beyond. His whisper is starkly incredulous as he mumbles a quiet “This Girl…”

“Quick,” you had urged, now bouncing in silent anticipation as you waited for him to hand over what it is you needed. In that very second, Chenle's hand digs into your hip. “Don't do that,” his fingers dug into your hips, immediately stopping your excited bounce, “Or you’re really not going shopping,”

In hindsight, Chenle should have perhaps withheld his card and forced you on this dinner with friends. However, he also couldn't deny the very suspicious ache in his gut that curled and coiled during these times when you needed him. It makes his head dizzy with lust.

He wished he didn't let you go.

Despite the hushed cacophony filling the Dim Sum restaurant, Chenle cannot help but think his table is the loudest of them all. Haechan and Jeno’s back-and-forth does nothing to allay that slight trickle of embarrassment that crawls up the back of Chenle's neck and he lightly rubs his face with both hands, wanting nothing more than to sink into the restaurant's leather seats. He raises his phone, perfectly content with tapping away at his social media while they bickered around him.

"You're gonna cover our bill.” Jeno says very sternly as the bottom of his beer glass hits the wooden table. His lips are pursed as he swallows his drink, but his eyes are dead serious. “Jaemin covered it in Copenhagen.” Jeno's finger prods at his chest hidden under a thick fleece sweater, “I did Rotterdam. You're covering the bill, Haechan.” Jeno rarely had to say anything above an unreasonable volume, and Chenle was much the same in that regard. When Jeno said something the first time, people usually listened. He rarely had to speak up for a second time but Chenle supposed that was why God made Haechan. To infuriate Jeno.

Chenle sinks further in his seat as he immediately scrolls into your chat. He types his ‘Where are you?’ with the urgency of a broken man and he frowns when you don't respond within the immediate minute.

Chenle did not like that.

He much preferred you when you were messaging him compulsively, especially when the two of you found yourselves apart.

Your text arrives, but not soon enough.

[17:21, You] Are you having a good time, baby?

[17:22, Chenle] No, Haechan and Jeno are acting like hooligans in front of everyone and Jisung thinks I don't notice him leaning over my shoulder to read this text.

Chenle looks up at the boy next to him, a very unimpressed deadpan painted across his face.

[17:30, You] Tell Jiji I say hi

[17:30, Chenle] No.

“Tell her I said Hi back,” Jisung whispers. He winces, not even a second later, grabbing his arm and lightly cradling the spot where Chenle just shoved him.

“Ah!” Haechan hollers from across the table, “Kids, no fighting-”

“Focus on paying the bill.” Jeno mumbles.

Chenle doesn't look up from your chat as his hands suffocate the little digital box. He's breathing heavily, suddenly uncomfortable with this little hypothetical crush you have on Jisung. He knew you were joking to piss him off. You knew that he knew you were joking to piss him off, but Chenle still rolls his eyes anyway. He tucks his chin into his hoodie as he grumbles.

[17:39, Chenle] I'd seriously rather be here with you

[17:40, You] Aww babe I miss you too

[17:40, Chenle] How much?

[17:41,You] Like… Alot, Idk?

[17:42, Chenle] Show me

[17:42, You] Show you what?

[17:43, Chenle] How much you miss me

[17:44, You] i'm still trying on dresses if you wanna see

Almost immediately, a Facetime call lights up his screen and Chenle immediately rises from his seat, scooting out of the booth and heading straight for the bathroom.

Chenle's eyes widen slightly as a zap of excitement strikes through his stomach. He quenches his dry mouth with his beer.

Meanwhile, this round has continued to go unpaid with Haechan, ever the stubborn bull.

"Okay, well I don't feel like paying for anyone's food," Haechan folds his arms in defiance and juts his nose up to the sky, all while turning his head very smugly.

It's the last thing Chenle hears before he's answering your facetime as he slinks into one of the bathroom stalls.

His phone is lowered, his brows furrowed in frustration. All of that eases away however, the second your face is projected onto his screen. From the mess in the background he can see you're back at the hotel.

The way his heart skips a beat at the sight of you should've been incredibly embarrassing but Chenle doesn't care, because you've propped the phone on a shelf, giving him a more-than-perfect view of the dress you were trying on.

“How’s my little monster doing?” You ask distractedly as you zipped up the dress. Chenle wishes he was there to help you zip it back down. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend wasn't in the business of appearing like a lovesick puppy. He only leans his back against the stall as he says, “Where are you? I thought you'd be here by now?”

“You actually believed I'd willingly want to have dinner with your friends?” You give him an unimpressed look as you throw your braids over your shoulder, admiring the cocktail dress in the mirror.

“There's only so much flirting from Jaemin I can handle, Chenle-”

“Jaemin's the reason you ditched m- wait.” Chenle murmurs distractedly as he brings the phone closer to his face. You watch with a smirk as he says, “Turn around.” You do as he says, turning slowly to show him how this particular design snuggly around your curves. His breathing is heavy.

“I look good, right?”

In classic Chenle fashion, he skirts past your fishing for a compliment to directly say, “That looks expensive.”

“But I look so pretty.”

“Take it off-” there's an urgency in his voice that fuels you with an immense sense of power. You knew it was a good dress. It's better than good. The manner in which the sweetheart neckline dipped was anything but innocent, and you knew Chenle would like it.

“Why don't you come take it off for me?”

A wispy curse drifts out of his mouth as he throws his head back against the wall before he says. “I'll be there soon.”

Chenle is rushing out the bathroom as he pockets his phone, carelessly swerving past the other tables in search of his own.

The bickering has yet to cease. He's so happy you're saving him.

“And where are you going?” Renjun asks with a frown on his face.

“The hotel.” Is all Chenle says as he slips on his letterman jacket. Below him, Jisung blushes a deep red, Having clearly understood the implication of Chenle's words.

"You're a child."

"I'll be a child." Comes Haechan's rebuttal, "A child that's not covering the bill-"

Chenle observes this as he stands before the table, ready to head out.

"Jesus, stop being kids!" Chenle finds his voice somewhere amongst the rubble of the conversation. "'I’ll cover this round, just stop fighting, God-”

Chenle's hand is already reaching into his denim jeans, patting idly for his wallet.

“Would you look at that,” Jeno says, sending Haechan the deadliest glare he could muster, “An actual adult.”

“Doesn't Chenle's dad like… Own the city?” Haechan deadpans, “So I expected him to pay anyway-”

This statement only brought about a fresh conflict, which Chenle disrupts with his slightly deflated interjection.

“Uh… guys…” One by one, they all snap their eyes towards him and Chenle's shoulders sag. A sheepish kind of smile crinkles Chenle's eyes.

“One of you are gonna have to cover the bill- I don't have my card,”

“Why don't you have your card?” comes Jisung's interjection before Mark slips in, “That's very irresponsible of you-”

Chenle was already giving them a farewell salute before turning his back on the table.

He's typing hurriedly across the screen of his phone, already ordering an Uber.

“Just charge the bill to my room,” he tells the man stationed at the front of the house. They exchanged the necessary details before he's off.

-

You know how Chenle got when it comes to money. You know how he got when you spent it. More specifically, when you spent his. You're not sure where that kind of desire came from, perhaps from some part of his brain that wanted to take care of you.

Since you last spoke, you've been seated idly on the bed with jittery nerves, your nails tapping against the water bottle. The relics of your shopping spree sit idly in the corner and you watch yourself idly in the mirror. It's a floor-to-ceiling that sat directly adjacent to the bed.

You're nervous. That much is clear. Bubbling just beneath the surface, however, is sheer excitement.

The ice cold water flowing down your throat had done little in quelling the heat that had ignited along the expanse of your skin. Everything feels too tight suddenly. This tiny cocktail you had slipped into, suddenly feels like a fucking torture chamber. Even your braids feel tight in their high ponytail. You need to get rid of it.

[18:03, Chenle] Open the door

You've already zipped the dress down when his notification flashes across your screen. Your feet are muted against the carpet as you open the door.

Your boyfriend stands on the other side of the threshold, dressed in his simple grey sweatpants and letterman jacket. A single gold chain glimmers from the fluorescents.

“We answer the door naked now?” He raises his eyebrows, hair damp with rain as he asses you in nothing but your lace underwear.

“Well I was undressing when you arrived-” Your words immediately drown under the weight of the kiss that Chenle crashes against your lips. He immediately crowds you by the doorway, pushing the door shut with his foot as he pushes you up against the wall, his tall frame hunching over yours. His hands greedily sink into your hips and his jaw is tight as he peppers kisses everywhere.

He kisses you desperately, and fervently, it barely registers when he's pulling away.

“Thought I told you to keep the dress on.” He's rubbing dizzying circles against your cheek as you look up at him with hazy eyes.

He wanted to fucking eat you alive.

“You were taking too long,” you pat his hand still firmly on your cheek, “Take your shoes off.” You lightly coax him out of his sneakers before smiling up at him with your lopsided swollen lips and smeared lipstick. Your hand interlocks into his as you lead him deeper into the apartment and he follows like a limp piece of skin, a helpless puppy with no sense of direction other than your safe navigation. “You have lipstick on your face,” You giggle before leading you both deeper into the hotel suite.

“I don't care-” Chenle says, before immediately setting his eyes on the myriad bags sitting idly in a corner. All sorts of labels were affirmed on the cardboard faces of each bag and Chenle looked back at you. You at least had the gall to appear sheepish, wrapping your arms around your exposed stomach like a child awaiting her scolding.

“Who possibly needs this many clothes?” There's a scolding edge to Chenle's voice as he shakes off his letterman jacket. He walks closer towards you. Your heart rate picks up as you avoid eye contact. Choosing instead to keep your gaze on Chenle's chest, which, almost far more harrowing, is being covered by a thin compression shirt. He looked borderline edible.

Your panties are drenched at the very sight of him.

The frown on Chenle's face is teasing, as he locks his hands behind his back, only waltzing closer and closer. His eyes narrow.

You're tripping backwards onto the bed, appearing even smaller underneath a looming, Chenle. He must be drunk.

You're tilting your head up at him, “How much did you and your friends have to dri-”

“Are you already wet?” That sentence alone allows you to conclude quite quickly that Chenle and his friend did, in fact, have a lot to drink. He licks his lips before descending on you until he's hovering slightly above you with his single chain dangling just above your head. There was no concrete way to deal with confident, drunk Chenle, you just sort of, had to take it all in stride until he was sober enough to be embarrassed about his forwardness.

You try to wiggle yourself out from under his frame but Chenle was already beginning to leave wet kisses on your neck, licking and sucking at the skin while producing the most obscene sounds known to man. He groans when he slots his hips between your steepeled legs. He lowers his hips to yours, dragging his clothed dick along the surface of your cunt and you moan involuntarily.

"Greedy, Greedy girl," he whispers, still burying his head between your neck as he humps against your clothed core. Your hips stutter upwards on their own accord, your jaw locked far too tight.

"Spending all my money like that-" he scolds, shaking his head in dismay.

"M'sorry," his snickers has your lips forming into a small pout.

"You're not sorry," his lips are inches from yours, "You're just gonna do it again-"

"-and again, and again..." you bio at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth.

Chenle's arms grow weak. "Shit-" he lets his hand slip between your legs as he continues with his face buried in your collarbone, exposing you to the fresh, oceanic scent of his shampoo as his lips begin to lick over your clothed breasts.

“I need you wet-” he mumbles, “Don't think I can waste time on foreplay tonight, pretty girl.”

You unconsciously lift your hips higher, immediately mystified by his ministrations. A slight gasp wrenches itself from your throat when your cunt meets his spindly fingers.

“Chenle-”

You're lying supine on the Clarifornia king bed and Chenle hovers above you. Fully clothed while you're almost naked. His hand is digging into the sheets beside your head as he hovers over you. Chenle's body acts as a great big shield, hiding you away from the city lights bleeding through the floor to ceiling windows.

“Condom,” you begin to say but your words are already escaping you and you're drifting off into fuzzy, foggy subspace. “Le- we needa-”

He shuts you up with a small peck on the lips, unbeknownst to you, he's already pulling his cock out and positioning the head right at your weeping entrance. “It'll be quick.” he says with a second kiss, “I'll pull out, I promise.” He's already swiping away your panties, exposing your weeping cunt to the warm air.

“B-But you're intoxicated- holy fuck!” He slowly eases the head of his cock through your folds and the lubrication from both your arousal aids in making the process less painful but certainly not less uncomfortable. “F-Fuck-’

“I'm your boyfriend,” Chenle breathes out as he pushes his cock further in, “You're not exactly taking advantage of me.”

Unable to stop himself from slamming his cock in, Chenle winces at the tight grip your cunt has him in. He needed this so fucking badly. He needed your warmth, your presence. The world seemed completely and utterly meaningless when you were there to provide meaning for him.

“Fuck, you're so tight, you're so tight, so, so tight-”

You're a whimpering drooling mess underneath him, with your head rolled to the side, eyes half lidded in ecstasy as Chenle made avid use of your body with his deep strokes that only grew more and more rough. “Fucking, fuck-”

“J-Just like that, - please don't stop-'' your breath is knocked out of you the deeper he goes and the discomfort quickly bleeds into pleasure. A pleasure so profound you're arching your back for him, forcing his cock deeper. Chenle's grunts turn into a slew of tiny, pathetic whimpers and you unconsciously squeeze around him as he bullies his cock further and further into your soaking cunt.

“You're making such a big mess, you know that?” You could feel it. Your wetness was seeping into the linen underneath you and all you could do was whimper silently, bottom lip protruding as you took every bit of everything he had to give.

“Quick,” he keeps whispering in his light-as-a-feather voice, “Y-You want me to fill you up, huh?” Chenle's mind is completely clouded with lust and ruts into you deeper and deeper, his pelvis brushing against your puffy clit.

“You wanna sit here with my cum leaking out of your cunt baby-” You're gasping, trying to wriggle your torso up.

“Chenle! You said you wouldnt-”

“For the fantasy, baby,” he places a reassuring kiss against your lips before parting those lips as he hits a particularly deep spot inside. “I-Its for the fantasy baby, relax.” You're both breathing into each other’s mouth. The coldness of his chains hits your chin in intervals and you're both sure that you might die of overstimulation. “You're so much work, you know that? So much fucking work-”

“Chenle I'm gonna cum-” You could feel your orgasm wanting to snap and your words only spurred him on quicker, “Fuck, me too-”

“Oh God, you feel so good,” His eyes were squeezed shut, so completely lost in his own pleasure that he barely registered you slipping into your own orgasm. All Chenle could feel was your cunt tightening around him before he nearly spilled inside of you.

“Fuck! Oh- fuck-” Chenle's clumsily grabs ahold of his cock already spurting cum before he's milking the rest out over your stomach “Jesus- FUCK!” it was the loudest you ever heard him and your chest rises and falls as you watch Chenle make a complete mess of you as if you truly were nothing more than an object. His object

“F-Fuck,” Chenle slumps over beside you but not before dragging you in by his side. It's like he wanted to live in your skin.

“I can't believe you came inside me.”

“didn't mean it,” He says, before nuzzling into your neck, already drifting off to a land where you never ever left him, even for a moment.

[botslayer]

If the fire, sulfur, black iron, and devils every which way didn't give it away, both of us aren't in a place you want to be after you die. I'd offer you a drink but the only things they offer you usually came out of... Well. You. My own blood has a pretty good palete.

You don't have to panic. Not yet. You aren't dead, again, not yet. You're only here because everyone gets a fair warning. So change your ways, yadda yadda, find Christ, yadda yadda... Can you tell my heart isn't in it? Good. At least they'll vary up the torture for it. You get sick of eating hunks off of yourself and still being able to feel it the whole time.

Oh... You want to know what I did for that punishment? Well. It started when I was alive. I killed a man in self defense. Robber broke in, I shot him. And it was all down hill from there. I moved out to the woods after the third guy... Mostly because the best I could do there was plead manslaughter.

Anyway. I bought a plot of land not too far from a hiking trail, built a little shack. Turned it into quite the operation. I was a one-man Sawyer family. I had butcher knives, cleavers, cutting boards, sausage stuffers... I remember the first time I ate a man in those woods. The first woman was alright. I screwed up the spices for her liver, though. Live and learn. All in all? I musta got about twelve or thirteen hapless hikers where they needed to be. And I ate like a king for six years.

Why only six? Throw another skull on the fire and I'll tell you... Thank you. See. One night, another guy came traipsing up the path. Another lost and weary traveler. Two in one day, would you believe it? But winter was coming. So a quick stock up in the event of being snowed in was necessary. Problem was I was outside having a smoke and I was still draining the latest one. If he saw that there'd be no mistake what I was up to.

So here comes a seven foot slab of man. Treating the cold around him like it wasn't much of an issue. One thin hoodie over a thin T-shirt and some overalls. I took to a short conversation with him as I sized him up. He had about a foot of height on me and he was built. Big country, cornfed son of a bitch.

"Who're you?" "Who are you?" "Why are you on my property?" "You can own property this close to a hiking trail?" So on and so on... And then I asked if he knew how to get back to the trail. It was getting dark, you see. I offered to help him back if He'd just let me nab my hiking boots. He agreed and I tried to circle around him. I figured he would still be looking at my front door. Waiting like a big old dog.

But when I exited the side, butcher knife in hand, he was holding a woodcutter's axe. Still looking at the door though. I could tell his tool wasn't mine. Crazy bastard must have had it strapped to his back... I took the chance and leapt at him from the side. He shook me off but the fight forced the door to my cabin open and he got a good look at the woman on the hook. I had left the TV on and was listening to it as I smoked, lit her up enough to see.

I'll remember until eternity, when else is there to remember to down here? But I'll remember until eternity what he said after I got to my feet. "Well... This is awkward," and I think it was a joke. I don't know. But I couldn't help but laugh. "I suppose it is."

But we looked at each other... And we kept sizing each other up. I knew my chances of surviving a face-to-face fight with a bigger man with more reach were minimal... If I recall correctly, he didn't want to fight. "We don't have to do this. I could help you butcher if you want..." But I tell you no lie when I tell you meeting a kindred spirit. One so forceful. One so... Comparatively Jovial. I was in love. And love makes us all do crazy things.

The next few minutes for both of us was a game of hack-and-seek. And we were both it. I don't know if he felt the same, but I think we were both having fun slinking around my house and yard. It was a hell of a way to spend my last hour or so on Earth.

But he caught me. I rounded just the wrong corner and he had me by the scruff of my neck. His weapon, unwieldy as it was with a single hand gave me just the time I needed. I stabbed him in the throat just in time to feel the axe crack though my rib cage and split my heart. I died on top of him... I remember trying to kiss him but I don't think I got close enough to his chin.

And now I feel it is another punishment for me. To never see my darling Francis again... I take some solice knowing he hasn't seen me, either... Maybe it means he felt the same. Who can say?

... Your presence in this realm is fading... Well, your arm is translucent, that's usually a dead give away, no pun intended... Just remember. Change your ways. Or you might end up with a good view of what's happening to everyone else while what happens to you, whatever it is, goes on and on. And on. And on. And on. And on.

After successfully leading your next target to your murder-shed in the woods, they pull out an axe from themself and proclaim "oh, this is awkward."