#I hate being so goddamn tired all of the time that I can barely keep my eyes open!

[autism-swagger]

I HATE BEING DISABLED!!!!!!!!!!

[nomairuins]

and also it doesnt even matter if i miraculously get a job tmrw bc we don't have a car . and im too out of shape to walk anywhere bc everything is far away . so i genuinely dont jnow what to do

[livwritesstuff]

thinking about this again so here's a part 2

Eddie wakes up to rain. Heavy rain, the kind that keeps the morning sky dark and bounces loud off the roof and the walls and the windows.

The rain didn't wake Eddie up. What did it was a pair of big, warm arms wrapping around him and pulling him in close.

Steve’s arms.

Objectively, this should be a good thing, and past versions of Eddie (even twenty-four-hours-ago-Eddie) would be goddamn irate with him for feeling anything other than vehemently positive about it.

He’s feeling bothered. He’d gone to sleep last night feeling bothered because Steve had sacked out approximately three seconds after they’d hooked up for the first time, and now he’s being woken up by Steve’s big arms pulling him in close and that has Eddie feeling bothered all over again because this isn’t how he thought this would go at all.

“G’mornin’ Eds,” Steve mumbles, the remnants of sleep in his voice.

And then he has the audacity to press a soft kiss onto Eddie’s bare shoulder.

"Y'know," Steve says, "I was gonna ask if you wanted to go to the diner this morning, but…sounds like it’s kinda fuckin’ gross out there. I can make us something if you want.”

Eddie sits up, suddenly feeling like he’s been left outta the loop on some part of this because Steve doesn’t even seem surprised to wake up and find Eddie still in his bed.

If there’s anything Eddie hates more than feeling bothered, it’s feeling like he’s left outta the loop, like there’s a piece of all this that he’s missing.

"Uh, what are we doing here, Steve?" Eddie asks, and he regrets it the second he sees Steve's face turn all hurt and confused.

"I don't —" Steve starts, pushing himself up on his elbow into a half-seated position, "What...what are you talking about?"

And isn't that choice of words just completely ironic?

"Oh, now you're interested in talking? Or are you gonna fall back asleep the second I start to-"

"Wait –" Steve interrupts, his eyebrows furrowed, "Are you all pissed off because I fell asleep?"

"I'm not pissed off," Eddie mutters, fiddling with a loose string on the edge of the sheets.

"What the fuck did you want me to do?" Steve argues, "Break out a deck of cards and suggest a round of poker? It was late! I was tired! I don't know how else to say it, man. You, like — you did a good job. Really had me beat, or whatever."

And, sure, Eddie allows himself to sit with that notion for a second before he shakes his head.

"I needed you to talk to me!” he exclaims, "We fucked, and then you fell asleep, Steve! Like it was just a fuckin' hook-up to you or something."

That confused look is back on Steve's face, but instead of being laced with hurt, this time it's just plain bewildered.

"What — Eddie," he says, "We talked."

Huh?

“Huh?”

“We talked,” Steve repeats, “Before we…you know, and I said that I like you and I said that I’m not really into the casual thing anymore, and you seemed pretty on board with all that, man, I dunno.”

And yeah, sure, Eddie sort of remembers that.

He definitely remembers when Steve pressed him against his closed bedroom door, and maybe he’d also been speaking at the time, but they’d been so close together and Steve had kept doing these little glances down at Eddie’s lips and there’d been this intensity in his eyes and Eddie had been pressed against Steve Harrington’s closed bedroom door.

There hadn’t been a single coherent thought in his brain, obviously, and yes, that included comprehending any of those words Steve might have been speaking so everything that had come out of Eddie’s mouth in response had been yes, yep, uh-huh, you betcha.

Eddie feels heat rising in his cheeks and by the looks of the amused smile making a home on Steve’s face, he’s not blind to what Eddie is currently realizing either.

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters, “I’m a fucking idiot.”

"Maybe," Steve allows even as he starts to pull Eddie back into his arms, "Breakfast?"

[jamil-s-wifey]

Hello :3 Can I get a long scenario with my dearest Jamil?

I really love him so much >///< so here is my scenario, I hope you can accept

Jamil got sick and has a fever. MC stayed beside him and nursed him for 3 days without blinking and finally he recovered. He started to remember her care during his illness after his fever dropped. And when he woke up, MC hugged him tightly. A bit long, huh? 😅 I would be happy with little NSFW, not gonna lie.

Well hello there, fellow Jamil enthusiast~ It has certainly been a hot minute, hasn't it? It is my utmost pleasure to present you with the *long-awaited* scenario at hand! A bit of NSFW, some heart-warming fluff and Jamil finally getting a GODDAMN break, coming right up! It's not full on NSFW, just a lil bit, as requested, I don't know why it turned out like that- still, I hope this is good! (Tbh, it fits the scenario)

P.S. This hit close to home, I used to be a very sickly child and I still catch all sorta sicknesses a lot easier than normal people. So, what he will experience here is all based on very PERSONAL and very SALTY experience. 🙃

"What am I gonna do with you? You can't keep pushing yourself so much!" You murmured, pressing a cold cloth to Jamil's forehead as he slept soundly.

.......

Jamil hated being sick. Pretty normal right? Everybody hates being sick.

But to Jamil, sickness meant pushing through and continuing with his chores, regardless of his wellbeing. Imagine cooking above a hot stove with a high temperature. Can't be pleasant, can it?

But even the hardest stones could crack under enough force - such is the way the world works. It was towards the end of the day, as Jamil was preparing Kalim's dinner, when he felt his body give out under him. All day he'd been going around with a fever, he felt as if his own body was rotting on the inside, screaming at him to stop and have a break. His eyes were watery and felt as though they were burning in his eye sockets.

He couldn't even reach a chair to sit, before his knees buckled and he fell to the floor - too dizzy and too weak. Rarely did he ever get this sick, but this time it was bad. He moved to a more comfortable position and remained like that, trying to gather enough strength to get some medicine..... He most certainly didn't realise he'd fallen asleep, too tired to move, nor did he hear Kalim's worried voice when he found him on the floor in the kitchen.

And Kalim? Kalim was terrified! Quickly he called on his dorm members to move him to his room and immediately called you, crying on the phone, worried that Jamil might never wake up. (That's not how colds work, Kalim-) Worried about Jamil, you immediately rushed to the Scarabia dorm, medicine in hand.

_____________

And now here you are, in the present, taking extensive care of your near delirious not-quite-boyfriend-but-kinda-love-interest. He'd occasionally wake up and exchange barely audible pleasantries with you, drink his "extra healthy and full of good stuff" chicken soup (whatever that was supposed to entail) and then fall back into slumber. His fever has gone down drastically, but the utter exhaustion left in its wake has kept him bedridden. Apparently it was a seasonal fever, which just so happened to hit Jamil, who in turn chose to ignore it in the beginning.

You'd taken the liberty to remain situated in his room for about three days.

Day one was the worst - high fever, clattering teeth and a sleepless night to boot. You'd change his shirt every time he'd drench it in sweat whilst fighting off the fever. You'd switch up the cloth every time it lost its cooling effect, you'd remained by his side the entire time, least he needed something anything at all.

"Once you get better, I'm so gonna yell at you for not taking better care of yourself.... You're lucky I love you." You'd mumbled, barely audible in the quiet of the room as he slept.

Day two was better - he slept through most of it and you could in turn prepare some soup, as well as cover most of his chores, get a pass from the teachers AND even leave him some of your notes for when he recovers. (Look at you go! He'd better propose imo)

Now, on day three he was evidently much healthier. Finally he gave up trying to get out of bed, and instead lay resting, drinking his medicine, feeling utterly pampered by you.

_____________

"How long have you...been here?" You seemed pretty tired in his eyes. The moment you heard his voice you immediately threw yourself gently on him, gently crushing his bones in a hug.

"A while." You responded, face buried in his chest. In reality, you hadn't had a proper night of sleep in about 3 days. You DID sleep, Kalim even prepared a guest bedroom, but you chose to remain next to Jamil for most of the time. "Do you know how worried I was?"

"You didn't have to do all this, you know? You could've get sick too."

"I could've, but I haven't. For somebody with such a keen eye and monstrous deliberation, you really don't know how to take care of yourself properly." You quipped back, moving to sit on the bed next to him.

"As, so I'm being reprimanded now." His gaze softened. "Thank you....for taking care of me these last few days... I've forgotten what it's like to not have to worry or do anything... I feel like I've slept a lifetime... I don't know how I could possibly return the favour."

You can't stay mad at him. He knows it, you know it. Hell, even the Great Seven know it.

"Return it by recovering completely."

He chose not to continue the conversation. He knew arguing was pointless.

"You know, while I was sleeping, or trying to, I was mostly aware of what was happening around me." He began, pushing himself up, in a sitting position. "When you'd quietly hum to yourself, or cuss when you couldn't find something..."

"Ah- well, did you now? Sorry if you had a difficult time falling asleep because of me. " you felt your cheeks warm up a bit.

"No no, please. It's fine. You've taken such good care of me. I just... couldn't help but hear something, which perhaps I wasn't meant to."

He reached out, tangling his hand in your hair.

"Something about you loving me?"

...

Nope, all that heat in your cheeks? Gone. Now it was just coldness and dread.

He saw your frazzled state and chuckled. "I guess I'm really lucky, to have you to take *such* good care of me, huh."

He leaned in, but stopped just centimetres away.

"I shouldn't."

You heart dropped even lower, if that was even possible.

"I could get you sick.~" There was a lilt to his voice, but his eyes showed concern.

"Oh, for fuck's sake-" you leaned in, smashing your lips onto his. He smiled into the kiss, pulling you towards him.

Naturally, you moved to sit in his lap, his hands moving to your waist.

"Your feelings are returned, for the record." He mumbled in between heated kisses. The more heated the kisses became, the more his hands would wander until-

In the blink of an eye, he flipped you over, so that you were underneath him. Skillfully he unbuttoned the first few buttons of your uniform, revealing more of your neck and collarbones. "I think I have a way of returning the favour. You took such good care of me, I think it's my turn~"

His attention moved to your neck, leaving heated languid kisses and playful bites on your skin. His hand trailed down to spread your legs, moving between them. Every single touch of his was intoxicating. Pretty quickly your shirt was thrown on the floor, the supple flesh underneath - covered in hickeys.

"Are you not going to undress as well? Or should I do that for you?" you asked, breathless, yet teasing in manner. Well. As teasing as one could get, given how achingly turned on you were. "Like you didn't have more than enough time to appreciate the view, during these last few days." he teased right back, but his hands moved to grip the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time." He practically purred, fingers gliding over your stomach, gently trailing lower and lower.

"Of course, you can tell me to stop anytime."

"I don't want you to."

"As you wish, my dear. Then I'll make sure to indulge, taking, tasting, touching every single part of you. "

[privateanxieties]

these final hours

Summary: When your job becomes too overwhelming, Frank decides enough is enough. A brief conversation reveals that things run deeper than he thought.

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

His verdict comes down one Sunday evening, breaking you from the melancholic stupor you're well into traversing.

"Alright, that's it."

There's a part of you that wants to protest immediately. It's always the first one to make itself known, because it's the one that feels the most fear. No, you cannot just quit your job, no matter the toll it's taking on you. No matter how many people tell you it's making you fade. No matter how little you stand to gain from keeping it up. Because if you do, then - then -

"Don't look at me like that. I said that's enough. You ain't going tomorrow."

There is, however, another part of you: the one that could cry out in sheer relief just by being presented with an out.

You don't even know what it is, exactly. Everyone has to work who was not born fortunate. People have much harder jobs than you do, and they get paid even less. So many struggle to make ends meet. You have neither the long, nor the short straw. The work is completely average, though perhaps below your capabilities. Definitely below your studies - God knows you're not justifying any of those student loans, save for maybe lots of jobs requiring some kind of degree these days. No, you can't quite grasp where all this melancholia with regard to your job originates.

When you really look at your situation, you have to abstain from getting carried away by overwhelming disappointment over how unjustified all this grief seems. Things could be a hell of a lot worse. People go through things at work that render them suicidal, and here you are, on a Sunday night, sad that you have to wake up for your commute.

"Sweetheart, you gotta talk to me. Alright? Can't handle seein' you like this. Nothin's worth it, you hear me? Ain't a goddamn thing in this world worth what this shit does to you."

Frank's hand on your knee makes you immediately tense up. It's instantaneous sensory overload from a simple touch and you can't explain it. It bothers you that you can't explain because it's another thing that's wrong with you. Another overreaction to an inoffensive event.

Before you can move away or even just barely take a breath, the warmth of his skin disappears. You hate the relief that washes over you. Who feels better when someone they love stops being affectionate? You, apparently. Always against the grain.

"You know I'm not making you do anything. Yeah? Need to hear that you know that."

A nod is what you manage, but eye contact has yet to happen. You theorize that if it were to happen, if you were to see him in this moment of wild vulnerability, you'd probably want to run from him and all else in the world.

"You don't have shit to prove to anyone. You included. Can't try to beat yourself into a mold if that mold's just gonna take away all the best parts of you."

Your chest rattles, and you try to keep your breath from becoming a pained gasp.

"You know, just 'cause I read doesn't mean I'm good with words. That's all you. But I'll say whatever I gotta say to get through. I ain't losin' the woman I love to a fucking job. And I sure as shit ain't letting her believe she's gotta do what the world says she's gotta do. Break herself as many times as she has to just to get approval. Can't do shit with approval, I'll tell you that."

Against all odds, words tumble out of you like a knocked over pot of crayons. Sharpness everywhere.

"I fail at - at everything. I haven't done one thing right my whole life. I quit everything I start. Everything - Frank, I can't st-"

An involuntary sob rips straight from your heart.

"I can't stand myself. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of my days not belonging to me. I'm tired of getting nowhere. I'm tired of not having any good reason to be like this. Every day I have to know, I have to wake up and go to sleep and never stop knowing that I am the way that I am. And I wish something would just happen so I don't have to keep-"

It stops. The flow of words you've never said out loud, even to yourself, stops dead. The silence floods the remaining space without delay but it, too, does so fruitlessly.

Frank has heard enough. Enough to know exactly what you've sworn you would protect him from.

"Will you look at me?"

The softest plea. You don't think you've ever witnessed it.

"Need to see it. Yeah? I need to see it in your eyes, what you just said. And then we'll figure it out. But I need to know, sweetheart. Because if I gotta protect you from your own mind, Imma be honest with you - I need different gear."

It's a weak attempt at humor, but not completely unsuccessful. Mostly you just know that Frank means every word. And you know, as your gaze meets his at last, that the part of you that always resists outside help has lost some strength. You're not too far gone to be able to admit that your thoughts have been getting bleaker. It's a newness that scares even you, who's been down this path before. Somewhere, it seems a turn arrived that even you weren't aware you'd taken.

But Frank is nothing if not relentless. There is no road he won't track you down on and no path inaccessible to someone of his determination. You can see it in his eyes, along with the subtlest glimmer. You're making him worry, and when Frank worries, he plans. Ten, maybe twenty steps ahead - which is why he locks away your phone with his guns for the night. It's safe to say you won't have an alarm for tomorrow, and the relief that fact brings isn't unaccompanied by guilt. Frank soothes it with promises and his unique brand of realism - you'll get through everything together, as long as you're honest. No more hiding, no more detours.

You're not sure how good you'll be at it, and when you voice the thought to him, Frank doubles down as he pulls the covers back from the bed and you both slip under them.

"You know what being good at therapy looks like?"

You hum your curiosity.

"Not needing relief anymore. Promise to let me know when we get there. Yeah?"

You press your fragile promise into the skin of his cheek, tucking your head below his chin and wrapping as much of your body around him as possible and, for the first time in weeks, drifting off instead of fighting to sleep.

.

.

.

-fin-

A/N: just a short piece that I hope brings you some comfort if you need it.

[s-coquette]

principles (2/?)

word count: 2.8k

summary: your new college roommate simon riley is a hardcore stoner who thinks he can get his way with you easily, to his suprise you don’t bend to his will.

Classes had started a week ago, things were going smoothly and you were adapting to your new environment pretty quickly.

Simon was… Unusal to say the least. He had his bouts of perverse comments and snarky remarks but he mainly stayed out of your hair. You found him attractive, who wouldn’t. I mean damn, he was a six foot something, blonde hunk that lived with you! You considered yourself lucky sometimes if it weren’t for how lazy he was. Simon was weirdly possessive, not in a worried boyfriend way, but he’d constantly ask why you were smiling at your phone, who is that guys name on your instagram notification, on and on. It was strange but you guessed he was just teasing. One day you had Jordan over to see your room and reconnect with him a little, Simon wouldn’t talk to you for a day and called you a whore for bringing a man into his house. What a hypocrite! Literally the first day you moved in he said it was your apartment too. When you told him that he only shrugged you off with a pissed off glare and something mumbled about how he was the man in the house. Jerk.

All of those signs pointed to him being interested in you, in some way at least. I mean what friend would slap your ass when you’re loading up the washing machine? Or call you at 4am, coming home from some random house party drunk off his ass, telling you how much he appreciates having a woman in the house and how he loves it when you cook for him, and that your sleepy voice is cute.

You thought about that a bit too much, the way he was slurring his words, his dumb hot voice making your toes curl even in your sleep filled state. You smiled widely when he hung up, feeling like the only woman in the world. You thought it was kind of pathetic but getting even a small compliment from him was an achievement. God, you hated yourself for it. You never experienced a true relationship, maybe something that lasted around 3 months in high school but that barely counted, you only kissed a couple times, both extremely inexperienced. You broke it off after realising it lead nowhere.

You had crushes, of course, like any other girl your age. But being this close to a man and living with one was extremely different. He was an asshole, but he was bearable. He sometimes came into your room just to piss you off so you’d throw a pillow at him, it made him laugh. And God was his laugh infectious, it was so deep and genuine. It made you flustered, made you forget why he made you mad in the first place.

He agreed to help you set your desk up today.

You hauled the thin cardboard box that contained the parts to make your desk, you’d chosen a simple white one with a big sliding drawer. It wasn’t too heavy but your legs still buckled when you made it to your apartment, too embarrassed to call for Simon’s help.

Unlocking the front door and closing it behind you, reminding yourself to lock it later, you push the big cardboard box into your bedroom.

It was about 3 pm and Simon should be coming home from the gym right about now. The only downside of that is that he hated to shower right after coming home, saying “he was too tired right now”. But you thought he was just being a lazy prick and agitating you on purpose.

The worst part was seeing his disheveled state, his short blonde hair messed up and wet, arms bulging with veins, that goddamn sleeveless loose gray shirt he wore.

You shake your head at the thought and tidy up your room, he is your roommate but you still didn’t want him coming into this mess, throwing out some cans of energy drinks you chugged to keep yourself awake. Spreading your blanket over your bed neatly and fixing your rumpled pillow. Making sure to adjust the new fluffy carpet you bought yesterday.

He was running a little late so you decided to fix up something to eat, he’d probably appreciate it coming home all worn out. You decided that dino nuggets were the way to go, it was your guilty pleasure and he loved them too, but wouldn’t admit it. Putting some fries in the oven next to them.

By the time they were done you assumed that he’d be home by now. You gnawed at your lower lip, looking at your phone and contemplating texting him. You didn’t want to seem clingy so you just sent a pic of the food laid out on the plate with “if u don’t come home in an hour they r going extinct”.

You smile and wait for a response, not even looking at your food.

seen✓

Oh. He was probably just busy.

You waited, and waited, and waited some more. Glancing at your phone while munching on a cold nugget, the clock read 5pm. You gingerly set it down and put the food in the fridge so you could reheat it later.

You’ve been wanting to deep clean the place for a while but now you were just not in the mood for it. You don’t know why you were pissed off, maybe it was just because you expected something only for it to be turned down. You liked Simon, you thought that you were just starting to develop some sort of bond. The seen only made your frown deepen.

It was already 9pm and you decided to go to bed early, you had classes tomorrow. Throwing on an old hoodie and some longer pyjamas since the weather has gotten a bit worse, you climbed into bed, foregoing your usual skincare routine.

The squeaky frames and old mattress annoyed you to no end, the first thing you’re buying once you get a job and save up enough money is a new bed.

Throwing the blanket over yourself and letting out a sigh, you barely fall asleep.

“You have a girlfriend?”

“Nah, she’s just my roommate,”

“Good, wouldn’t want anyone taking my place,”

You furrowed your brows at the womanly voice that invaded your apartment, raising yourself up on your elbows to better hear what was happening. Simon usually only had his guy friends over, barely even that. You only met this one named Kyle, and he was surprisingly much nicer than him.

“She’s probably asleep,”

You hear his deep voice ring out and some annoying giggles following behind, before the sound of his bedroom door opening was heard.

You groaned, you couldn’t believe it. Why did you think so highly of him? Of course he’d just waited until you got cozy so he could start bringing random girls in. The dejected sigh that left you was almost heartbreaking. Even worse was that you’ve never actually been in his bedroom, only ever gotten a glance at it. So he’d rather let some random woman he picked up, probably from a party, into his room rather than his roommate?

You just turned to face the wall and covered your ears with a pillow, trying to block out the noises.

“Ah! Fuck- Simon~“

“Yeah? You like it when I pound this tight little cunt?”

That made you shiver a little. It also made an ugly jealousy curl in your gut. You couldn’t block out the noise even if you tried.

Loud girly moans, she was either faking them like a pornstar or he was actually that good. You listened to his bed creak and her loud whorish moans for what felt like an eternity, when the sounds ceased, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Then followed her loud giggling at everything he said, you could hear her whining when he pushed her off for being too clingy, the pout in her voice.

You let a out a breath of relief once they actually fell asleep, the loud thumping of your heart and your furrowed brows making it hard to fall asleep yourself, but you managed.

You woke up to your alarm, letting out a groan and trying to fish your lost phone out of the bed to turn off the blaring noise.

Sitting up blearily, you rub your eyes from sleep, sitting up and putting on your fuzzy pink slippers to go to the bathroom. As you were about to reach for the handle, Simon opened it for the inside, wanting to come out.

You raised a brow at him, annoyed to see him look so smug so early in the morning. Looks like he had just taken a shower, a towel around his lower half with hickeys staining his whole neck and some of his chest in dark purple splotches, almost like watercolors.

“Had fun last night?”

The grin that graced his face was so pretty that you wanted to slap it off.

“No, bet you’d be tighter than her,”

Your drowsy eyes widen, all sleep seeping out of you at the words he just uttered. He just nudges you out of the doorway and continues on with his day.

What the fuck is wrong with him? He keeps giving you mixed signals, now you just think he’s fucking with you. Finishing with your business, you make it to the kitchen to find him slurping down some cereal, now dressed in a simple T-shirt and blue jeans.

“Where’d your girlfriend go?”

You poke at him, opening the cupboards to fish out a bowl and scanning the drawer for a clean spoon.

“What? She’s not my girlfriend.”

He snorts, that dumb smile on his face making you want to rip his throat out.

“Sure sounded like it- Oh my God, Simon you ass, did you eat all of the cereal?”

He only grins at you and shrugs his shoulders.

You groan out and slam the cupboard shut, grabbing last nights food and plopping it into the microwave to reheat it.

“Why’d you make so much of those?”

His deep voice startles you yet again, the stoic tone of his every sentence making you stan on edge sometimes.

“Thought you’d come home to have some.”

You mumble, taking it out of the microwave and sitting across from him, avoiding eye contact while playing with something on your phone.

You see his giant hand reach out and grab a nugget from the plate before you could slap it away.

“Simon!”

You whine, mouth full with food, making him snicker.

“You had your chance to eat these last night but I guess eating some random chicks pussy is better.”

You snap at him, a glare directed his way.

“Yeah? It would’ve been yours if you weren’t such a stuck up little brat.”

You stare at him with wide eyes yet again, mouth open to reprimand him.

“What? You a virgin or somethin’?”

You shut your mouth and swallow your food, not so confident in looking at him now.

“Well… Yeah?”

He grins and crosses his arms over his chest, chewing his food slowly.

“That explains it.”

He abruptly gets up and leaves the kitchen, not before knocking his hands on the top of the doorway like a little kid, leaving you stunned yet again.

You grumble and finish your food, getting ready for your first class. Wearing a simple gray hoodie and some pretty baggy jeans, doing your everyday makeup and hooking some earrings in.

You met a girl the first period, she had long brown pin straight hair, thin figure, nice face shape with bright green eyes, her name was Alexis. She introduced herself to you first, she was extremely extroverted by the looks of it since she knew almost everyone in your class.

You exchanged numbers by the end of it, her smiling attitude and energy making you have a positive outlook. She did kind of seem overbearing with her giggles and smiles, especially when waving to her guy friends, but you guessed she was just like that. It was nice having a friend here, she even seemed pretty popular which meant you could probably meet more people! Awesome.

You dreaded coming home to your shared apartment. You were so done with Simon’s attitude, when Alexis offered you to go to the mall after your classes, you agreed without a second thought.

“So- As I was saying, the Lash Sensational is way better than Skyhigh, I don’t get the hype to be honest.”

You smiled at her so passionately defending her favourite mascara.

“Yeah, I use the Falsies one? I’m not sure what the full name is.. But the next one I’m gonna try is definitely Sensational.”

I acknowledge her happy grin, her gold hoops swinging with every motion of her head, taking a sip of her overly sugary coffee.

“You know- There’s this party on Sunday, I was told to bring anyone and everyone I knew. It’s basically just everyone from campus so you don’t have to worry about some forty year old creeps-“

She giggles, scrunching her nose.

“You live off campus, right?”

You give a tentative nod,

“Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass to be honest,”

She chuckles at your dramatic groan,

“I’m sure you could come,”

“Wait you’re inviting me?”

She furrows her perfectly done eyebrows and purses her glossed lips,

“Duh? You’re like, really chill. I think the girls would appreciate a new face.”

She smiles as the inside of your head rears with panic.

“Oh- I’ve never actually been to a party..”

She just smiles thoughtfully and grabs your hand, her nicely manicured fingers feeling so soft to the touch.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be with you the whole time, you don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.”

The sincere look in her eyes made you sigh and agree fearfully, she just gave you a pat on the shoulder and explained some basic details, saying she’d come pick you up with her friends and that she’ll text you more details later.

Over the days you’ve been texting Alexis all the time, talking to her on campus and meeting some of her friends. They had a nice little friend group that consisted of extremely beautiful girls, it kind of made you insecure to even be standing next to them. But they welcomed you with open arms.

You barged into the apartment with full shopping bags on Friday, Simon was in his room probably playing video games or whatever it is he does in his free time. The excitement in your stomach was bubbling as you unpacked a bunch of new clothes, your favourite being the black mini dress covered in small sparkles that almost looked like glitter, the straps were thin and black. You put it on and grinned at your reflection in the small mirror you kept on your desk.

You wanted to send Alexis a pic but it was too uncomfortable to do in your room without a bigger mirror. You had a bright idea and stormed to Simon’s door, knocking loudly and asking if you could come in.

As expected, he showed up at the door, and you pushed past him before he could protest to use the giant mirror he had on his closet door. You pushed the light switch as you were coming in and he let out a dramatic hiss at the light.

“What’re you getting so dressed up for?”

He grunts out, falling back into his gaming chair and spinning from left to right while checking you out.

“My friend invited me to a party on Sunday,”

You grin and take out your phone while twirling around and checking yourself out in the mirror, trying to find an alright angle to snap the pic and hide the mess that his Simon’s room.

“A party? Huh.”

He snorts, rubbing his face before ruffling his blonde hair.

“Yeah? It’s my first one too!”

You giggle and snap a pic, cropping out the socks and old cans that filled his messy room. You were too busy fiddling with the pic to notice that he was standing behind you, his brooding presence too hard not to notice, his breath on your ear paired with the extreme height difference made you shiver.

“You know, you should really learn to dress yourself before deciding you’re a big girl that should go to a party.”

You yelp when he girps your half exposed ass cheek and push at his chest, his cocky laugh filling the room. You push down the back of the dress to cover yourself with a furious blush on your face.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything, you jerk!”

His grin only widens.

“Why would I? I was enjoying the view. Cute pink panties too.”

You flush and storm out of his room to hear his loud cackle following behind.

Guys i have no idea what im talking about don’t kill me btw if you want to be added into the taglist just reply to this post :) or any part of the fic

taglist:

@jupiternighties

[leonsfiancee]

stress-free. - leon s. kennedy.

summary: you give leon a back massage while he talks to you.

tw: fluff, slight angst, some sadness, scars, swearing, etc.

leon kennedy x female reader

•••

Leon had his eyes closed as you gently rubbed his tense muscles, the warm air blowing through the room in a relaxing fashion. The TV was playing, but Leon was hardly listening to the movie that was playing, your massages working wonders on his aching muscles. He would let out a groan or two every once in a while, the sound music to your ears as you worked your fingers against his bare back.

"You okay?" you quietly asked, running your fingers against his back and tracing the outlines of his many scars. He opened his eyes and looked at the wall across from him, his hands were folded together on his lap. He sighed softly.

"Yeah," he replied. "Just… thinking, I guess." You frowned at his response, and leaned down to press a kiss on his neck. “You can talk to me if you want to, y'know?"

Leon hummed. "I know," he responded. "I just...don't know where to start."

You paused in your movements, your hands stilling against his back. You were silent, allowing him to think and collect his thoughts, you were interested in what was going on in his mind.

"I watch people die all the time," Leon suddenly stated. "People I have no idea who they are, people I have no connection with. And when it happens, I can’t help but feel horrible."

You were quiet.

"I think about their families, their friends, the people who care about them. And how their lives were cut short. How they had so much potential. And they're not here anymore. It's...a lot. All of the death, the loss. Ever since Raccoon City, I’ve been surrounded by it. Death. It's just a part of my everyday life. I hate it."

"It's hard," you whispered, knowing exactly what he was going through. You both were in the same position, having been there for each other during your darkest times. “And I understand it's not something you can easily get over. It never is."

"Yeah," he murmured, turning his head and resting his chin against his hand. He had a tired look in his eyes, his lips were turned down into a frown. “I’ve lost so many people, you…you don’t understand. How do you move on after you've seen people being eaten by zombies? How can you continue your life when you've seen someone being blown up to bits right in front of you? When you've had to fight to survive against a goddamn tyrant that has no fucking limit and just keeps coming..”

You bit your lip. "I can’t imagine, Leon..”

Leon was silent. "I just...don't feel like I deserve this. Any of this. The people who died didn't get to live their life to the fullest. And yet, here I am, alive and living my life. When I shouldn't even be alive."

"That's not true, Leon," you whispered, pressing another kiss against his neck. “You are very important to me.”

He swallowed. "Sometimes, I wish that it would have been me who died instead of the others," he said. "The world would have been a better place if that was the case.”

“Leon. Stop.” I say sternly, my hands going around his body to rest against his chest. I lean against him, holding him close.

He sighed and turned his head away from me, looking off to the side. His gaze was clouded and far away. He was lost in thought, his mind probably going a mile a minute. You were silent, waiting patiently for him to speak.

"Is this..," Leon began, pausing for a moment. He licked his lips, hesitating. "Is this my life now? Do I just keep going through life, pretending everything is fine when it's not?"

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"Am I just gonna have to keep watching people die? Keep living this nightmare that never seems to end? Is it always going to be like this?" Leon questioned. "Is this what the rest of my life is going to be?"

“I..I don’t know, Leon..”

He sighed, looking down. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the sadness in his eyes. You felt your heart break at his expression. You didn't know what to say to him, or what you could say to him. “I’m sorry you have to go through so much, Leon. It’s crazy and terrifying..I’m really sorry..and I wish I could help you..”

He glanced at you, before closing his eyes. There was a long silence between you two. You rested your chin against his shoulder, feeling his breathing calm down. After a few moments, he broke the silence.

"I love you," he murmured. "I really do."

"I love you, too, Leon," you whispered.

His mouth twitched slightly.

"Can you promise me something?" he asked, opening his eyes and staring ahead at the TV.

"Of course," you responded, moving your arms from around him. "Anything."

"Promise me that no matter what happens, you won't leave my side," he requested, glancing at you. "No matter how fucked up things are. Please."

"Leon," you said softly, cupping his face and pressing your lips against his forehead. He leaned into your touch, placing his hand over yours. “You know I would never leave you. I love you. No matter what. I promise."

He nodded, closing his eyes again. "Okay," he whispered, his voice breaking.

You held him tightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You’re going to be alright, Leon," you whispered.

He swallowed, looking at you. You gave him a reassuring smile, hoping to convey how much you loved him and how much you cared. “Thanks for listening…I feel like you’re the only one who really understands me..and the only person who can help me out of this hole. I really do appreciate it."

"I'll always be here for you," you said, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly.

•••

a/n: it’s okay..

[ashlingiswriting]

do i know you? chapter one

"that's mikey's girl." richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn chapter one, 3.2k words

two in the morning. he's on his stomach with moonlight fall through the window on his bare shoulders, the arch of his thick dark hair hiding his eyes in shadow. not even a gleam.

why do you keep calling me that? he says. used to be every now and then, like a joke, but now it’s just all the time.

it’s your name.

mikey’s my name.

michael’s on your birth certificate. that makes it your name.

everyone calls me mikey.

you lift an empty palm. and?

oh my god, don’t be so fucking mysterious, come here. c’mere. his hand's on your hip, clumsy. hey. talk to me. 

let it go, michael. 

when sweetness doesn’t get him what he wants, he reaches inside and produces more energy from god knows where.

don’t you ever get tired of being so goddamn mysterious? don’t you get fucking exhausted? from wheedling to kindling, you never tell me anything, just tell me one thing, okay? just one thing, what’s the big deal, straight shooter? huh? c’mere, hey. oh, now you’re not looking at me now? like what am i, a cop? i’m just fuckin curious, man, it’s my name, and if you’re—

okay! fuck! just. fucking calm down, i’ll tell you. i’ll tell you.

i am calm. he is. ruffled, but calm. he’s clean tonight, you can always tell the difference.

everyone calls you mikey. 

he turns over onto his back and lets the light reach everywhere. doesn't have to say a thing. his face is deceptively open, waiting, the full weight of his attention on you, and that's more than enough.

you say, maybe i don’t want to be everyone.

his face melts into that expression you love and hate in nearly equal measure, a little pitying, a little tender, completely fucking magnetic. he stretches out one arm across the tops of both pillows in mute invitation, and you know that you’ll crawl into his arms in a second, give in the way you always do.

oh, baby, he says. you’re not everyone.

yeah?

you've never been closer to him than you are right now, with all the red lights sped through a long ways back, and yet. and yet. you still can't read him. maybe you never will.

you say, then who am i?

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.

.

when you go to the beef for the first time, you set yourself some rules. first off, don't talk to the staff. don't talk to the staff. don't talk to the fucking staff.

don’t stare.

don’t say his name.

and as soon as you get your sandwich, you gotta go.

there’s rules. that’s your excuse for breaking your promise: if you act like any other customer, what harm can it do?

well, this.

you’ve done a decent job of pretending you don't know enough english to converse, but you’re still trying so hard not to look at carmy standing behind the counter that you let your gaze drift, go unfocused, as you anchor yourself by two fingertips barely grazing the counter. waiting for your mortadella like all the other schmucks. suddenly, your drift snags on a sound, a certain note in the voice of the guy behind you, and you turn before you have any idea what it is. your heart jumps. of course he’s got a gun, of course he fucking does, and carmy’s trying to calm him with shouting and everything else just happens. 

you wedge yourself between the guy and the counter don’t you fucking touch him back the fuck up at least the crowd’s smart enough to scatter or hit the floor and you smack the inside of his wrist knock the gun to the side where at least the only ones who could suffer would be the wall or you. bang, stupid loud. flinch. the picture frame on the wall right behind you shatters and falls, sting in your arm don’t touch him but one more twist and the gun is yours now and the guy is running, running, gone. which makes you just a person getting gawked at by strangers while your mouth is running behind. don’t you fucking —

you thought you forgot how to get scared a long time ago, but that’s obviously not true. you notice it as you pop the magazine and shake them out with a metallic tinkle in your hand, then pull the slide to clear the chamber too. yeah, you're scared.

the bullets are slippery in your sweating palm, and it's early chicago fall and no enemies left, nothing to sweat about. you slip bullets in your pocket, don’t want to give anyone a loaded gun, especially not a fucking berzatto. the shop hasn't cleared, it's louder than ever, and you're not looking at anybody, just the gun, mind on autopilot. somebody's asking you if you're okay and you're pointedly ignoring them. you say, gimme the trash can, carmy.

he does.

do i know you? he says.

the gun lands in the trash with a thud, and only then do you realize your mistake. you can’t even look at him as your stomach drops. you just fucked it for yourself. this is gonna be the last time. you turn and try to leave quick as the line re-forms beside you. chicago, god bless, still wants their fucking lunch. what happened to the rules protecting you? what happened to—

she’s bleeding, don’t let her—

it’s richie who gets to you first, which is somehow worst of all. you don’t know how he does it, you were nearly home free, but now he's right here and you’re still not looking at him as his hand closes around your good arm. you’re not looking at him but you recognize the voice, matched it to his face on your first visit to the beef. the face you matched to many photos you've seen, most of them blurry.

hey, sweetheart, let’s just—

and that’s what breaks it for you. you lift your eyes and look at him dead on and bullshit with the ferocity you only get when you’re in the middle of losing something. you don’t want any of this asshole did you think i learned to disarm a guy in kindergarten what the fuck do you think is going on here unless you want this place to be fucking mob associated then get your hands off me wasn’t the c enough or do you really need cops up your ass too—

richie’s not as stupid as he needs to be, or he’s not as smart. 

sure, yeah, he says. that’s very impressive and shit but we’re already kind of a mob joint, we owe a guy three hundred grand off book and that’s not even a joke, this is chicago, baby, and you’re bleeding. just come over here and don’t be a pain about it—i got it carm—don’t be such a fucking pain, come on.

it’s the voice that does it, and not the way he’s manhandling you back into the kitchen, it’s not the same but it’s a cousin and you just really fucking missed this shit. even though your heartbeat has slowed, you’re still dangerously stuck in that place where it might rain any moment. 

you’re still fighting him but it isn’t much, kind of autopilot, run on. it’s fucking nothing don’t be a baby what do you think this is i’m not gonna die i’m not even gonna go to the hospital richie it’s like a couple pieces of glass who cares plus the cops are gonna show up and then what. 

in the kitchen you look around hungrily. this is the place. those are the stoves, the knives, that’s the fucking mop and all. feels wobbly. you’re not used to being sentimental.

i mean jesus i just wanted a fucking sandwich, you say.

we can make you a fucking sandwich.

well i don’t want it any more!

what is your fucking problem, richie says, but he doesn’t say it right. 

here’s the office door, here’s the office, here are the piles of paperwork that used to be the bane of his existence. god but you’re weak. and as richie reaches for a first aid kit hanging from a nail above the filing cabinet, you give in one last time and steal a photo that was taped just above the desk. swift swipe. first crime you’ve felt bad about in a long time, and also the first crime that’s felt necessary.

i don’t want a fucking sandwich, you say, without skipping a beat.

fine, richie says with the air of a martyr. sit down.

he all but shoves you onto a chair. you let him, but you’re not gracious about it either. you have to resist touching your back jeans pocket where you slid the photo in, to check that it’s still there.

ebrahim’s at the door now, bearing the first aid kit.

give me that and get me a trash can and both of your fuck off, you say, and you only get three out of the four things you asked for, go figure. richie stays.

you shouldn’t even be here, so you rush it, snap open the kit, go for the tweezers, pinch the first shard and yank it out with a wince.

richie, gore might be your top pornhub category but i don't see you tipping my onlyfans, so fuck the fuck off.

words having failed, you try ignoring him, but even once all the glass is out, he hasn’t fucked off. seriously, stop hovering, you say.

do i know you? he says, but not like a proper question. like he’s on the verge of making it a statement.

no you don’t, i’m just one very observant motherfucker. now fuck off, don’t you have salami to slice or some shit?

you’d straight up flee, leave it all behind, except now there’s carmy in the doorway running his hand through his mess of hair with those wide eyes, richie standing behind him, and god yeah you do see it. how could carmy ever be anything other than a kid brother?

you okay? carmy says.

it’s not like a scratch, it’s literally a scratch. it’s literally a scratch.

no, i mean. you know. he’s struggling for it, and bless him but you’re not helping him, not one bit. that is not your job.

richie says, if you’re fine, then why are you such a fucking creep, man. why do you know our names.

carmy smacks him without looking, back of his hand to richie’s chest. what we mean to say is thank you. thank you, and do you want peppers on y—

and that’s when he sees it, over your shoulder, the empty spot over the desk. 

the regret crashes into you so hard and immediate you think you might be sick. you never should have come.

carmy says, slowly, did you take mikey? and there it is. you think with a slice of biting clarity that this is probably why he never wanted you to come here, he probably saw this one coming from miles and years away. you had one job. you fucked it.

sorry, you mutter, and you take the photo out and put it on the desk, one last look, and then you’re dodging them on the way out. you’d have shoved, but carmy just stepped aside as you charged forward, too taken aback to fight, just as innocent as ever. 

but then there’s richie right behind you and he was never innocent. 

you’re charlie, aren’t you, says richie.

as you try to navigate through the kitchen whirlwind, you can feel it behind your breastbone, like a detonation. that old game, that old thing. charlie and tommy, secret agents. 

no, you say, too quick.

no but you fucking are, and there’s a note of triumph in it, he’s sure of it now, you can’t convince him otherwise. still keep trying, though.

that’s not my name, is just, how do i—how do you work here the place is a fucking maze i just want the door for crying out loud thank you marcus jesus christ.

behind you: who’s charlie?

that’s mikey’s girl.

fresh chicago air which means grimy smoke and wind and you’re in it and you’re gone, hands shoved deep in your pockets, bullets cool against your fingers. thank fucking god. just soon enough to not hear what carmy has to say about it. escape means you’ll never know. 

.

.

.

it’s a real short story: you were two fucked up people with two fucked up lives and even worse sleep schedules. you liked smoking at the same spot, sheltered from the wind by a crevice of the apartment building where you both lived. talking shit. one thing led to another. he was good with your rules and you were good with his lack of anything to bring you except, occasionally, himself. and that was it. you liked that story. it was a good one. simple. very nearly clean.

unfortunately, it’s made you incredibly easy to track down.

when you come down for your nighttime smoke, half-hoping you won’t get called that night, half-hoping you will, there he is, waiting for you outside the double doors: richie.

at the sight of him, you try to retreat, but he's still got a key card, must've been a spare that mikey gave him. he yells at you, stupid loud for the time of night, HEY, and holds up the picture. he really can’t be the stupidest man in the world, not quite, because that bait you'd always fall for no matter the gleam of the hook. 

wordlessly, you come back and you take the picture from him. you look at it for only a second before you realize you can't look at it anymore, not in front of him, so you just hold it in your hand, careful. the only photo of michael that you have, and a good one. he’s got a big grin in it, the classic, perfect, flop-haired and glowing.

my name's not charlie, you say.

yeah. you're a big top secret whatever whatever booty call, i get it, he says.

you can’t even muster the words to respond to that because everything feels too embarrassingly much, or too inadequately little. you just burn.

look, richie says, with what you might think is a pang of actual conscience if you haven't heard so much about him already. carmy just thought you would want the thing.

i do. there's a pause. neither of you quite expected you to say that, and neither of you quite expect you to say what comes next, either. or at least, not this simple. thank you.

i could text you some more if you want, he says after a second. not cool with silence, this one.

you shake your head. i cycle through old ass flip phones. because. you shrug and you make no effort at your lies. i'm just very clumsy and i tend to drop them and break them like once every two weeks, so there's no point in buying anything expensive.

uh-huh, he says dryly. makes sense.

the corner of your mouth lifts, and then you look away, willing him to fuck off your mind to fade out, or both. it doesn’t happen. he almost says something more than once, you can feel it, but whatever inside him hates silence, that thing isn’t as strong as his fear of saying whatever he’s got to say.

and your fear, it turns out, is not enough.

it's not my fault, you know? and now you're zero to a hundred, outright. why he...i mean, we broke up two months beforehand. so, like. i know you're all. i know everyone thinks.

and now richie’s still looking at you while you're talking, same as before, but there's a weight to his eyes on you that you don't quite want to squirm out from under. he's actually listening. that's the thing.

just, whatever it was, it wasn't me, you say.

there's a silence long enough that it starts to get bad, and then richie says, we never thought it was you.

what can you say to that? it's not believable but he's trying to be kind, so okay, you'll believe his blatant lies like he tacitly agreed to believe yours. it’s the type of kindness you give to a child and it sticks in your throat, but you force yourself to swallow. good manners.

you want to say thank you again, but you can't. you're not gonna thank him twice like some kind of asshole.

so you just look at him for a second, really and properly. he is michael, he's a piece of michael, he's a thousand stupid stories you both laughed over under streetlights for a couple years, annoyed and hated and felt for from afar. his hair is lighter than you expected and his eyes are bluer, he's a little shorter and there's a tiny mustard stain on the neckline of his navy shirt. this is it. another piece of the endless ending.

see you around, you say, when what you mean is the opposite.

but then he says, yeah, and you thought that was just a word, but you were wrong.

.

.

.

you were wrong and it’s actually really funny.

cause of course you go upstairs and you have your little whatever-you-call-it, up there with that picture, and then some leftover mac n cheese and the picture and the knowledge you can’t fall asleep, and the picture and going back downstairs because after all that a cigarette just makes sense.

motherfucker is chain-smoking in your spot. at least he has the grace to look vaguely embarrassed to still be there when you arrive.

jesus, you say, looking at the little heap on the flat-headed metal post that serves as the unofficial building ashtray. you’ve done worse than that, but that’s not gonna stop you from saying it.

ah, fuck off, he says in welcome, and then you pull out a pack and he pulls out his lighter. you, uh. you see the bulls the other night?

can we not talk? you say as the lighter goes click, withholding your cigarette like he'd give a damn.

he blinks, pauses.

yeah, he says. you hate the sound of his voice. it’s too raw weary, like he just came out the funeral wearing a borrowed suit. yeah, we can not talk.

only then do you let him light the cigarette.

no words after that, as promised. you’re very tired. he might be even more tired than you. you lean against the building, but he won’t do even that. every now and then, you look at him, and rarely—just a few times—you see that he’s glancing at you. but you always look away. at some point you become convinced that he’s gonna say something, or you are—something about the eyes—but weirdly that fear drains away after a bit and you’re back to comfortable silence, which feels different even if it sounds the same. 

he runs out of cigarettes pretty early on, but you’re so self-absorbed that it takes you a while to figure out that he’s not gonna leave. he’s just not. so you’re gonna have to be the one to do it. 

you push off the wall. night, fuck-o.

he laughs, and that’s it, that’s all, just a laugh, ragged at the edges. but you won’t forget it. 

come to find out, neither will he.

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[ chapter two ] [ the bear masterlist ]

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@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc — if anyone else wants a tag, let me know.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Up A Creek

Title: Up A Creek

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Male!Reader

Word Count: 1.9K

Prompts: Lee Bodecker + Male Reader + Impact Play + “I told you, you would eventually start begging.” + Smut, requested by @electraphyng

Summary: Sheriff Lee Bodecker is sick of your trouble.

Warnings: period accurate homophobia, mention of having too many drinks, impact play (spanking), spit as lube, dubious consent, top!Lee, bottom!Reader, unprotected anal sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids

Beta: @peyton-warren

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Sweet Treats Event 2024 Masterlist

My Masterlist

This wasn’t your first time in Sheriff Bodecker’s cruiser after a few too many at Old Jeb’s bar. Hell, it probably wouldn’t be the last time. He gives you the ‘I was a young man once, too’ speech. It’s the last thing you want to hear right now. That is until he gets to the part where he usually says something about making the right decision. Today, he has something different on his mind.

“Now, I’ve tried every goddamned thing I can think of to try and keep the peace in this damn county. I did it for years until you came along,” he drawls, making eye contact with you in the rearview mirror before looking away. “I’ve verbally warned you. I’ve arrested you. I’ve had you sit in the drunk tank all night. But every damn time I think you’re gonna do right by me and this county, you blow it.”

“Sheriff, I-” 

Bodecker slams his fist on the dashboard of the cruiser. “I did not ask you a question. You speak when spoken to now, you little shit.”

That shuts you up. When you look dejectedly outside of the windows of the cruiser, you realize you should already be at the station with the amount of time he was driving. You don’t know where you are, and you are with the man that hates you more than your damn Daddy. The farther he drives, you notice fewer lights and street signs and more open and wooded areas.

Dragging your eyes away from the window, you look back to the Sheriff. He gnaws a toothpick so hard that his jaw clenches. You catch more of his face in the reflection of the rearview mirror and think if he didn’t grimace all the damn time, he’d be such a handsome man. The kind that everyone would pay to see on the big screen.

You could hear your Daddy’s voice in your head: ‘Ain’t no son o’mine gonna be no damn pervert. I’d rather die.’ His words didn’t have the intended effect; you just became louder and prouder. But now and again, his words would creep into your subconscious, making you think that every damn thing you did was wrong because you were wrong. A design flaw, a mistake.

Your thoughts on your old man are cut short as you feel the cruiser slowing to a stop. Gravel crunches under the tires. Just as you were going to ask the Sheriff where you are, he opens the driver’s side door and gets out, shutting it behind him. You watch as he walks to the back door and opens it. You try to slink back further into the back seat, but he grabs your ankle. You kick at him with the other foot, but he catches it.

“Listen here, son. You try to kick me again; I’ll break it and tell the doctor you fell. Don’t test me,” Bodecker seethes, pulling you the rest of the way out of the cruiser. 

He grabs you by the elbow and walks you into the woods at the side of the road. Pulling you along behind him, he walks into a clearing that is barely lit by moonlight. He pushes you down to your knees. You somehow catch yourself from falling forward onto your front. Walking around you, Bodecker gets your attention by calling your name. He smiles a toothy grin when you look up at him with fear in your eyes.

“Now, I wasn’t gonna say nothin’, but your old man asked me to keep an eye on you. Said something or other about his son not being interested in chasing skirts. Wanted me to talk with you, but I think I got a better idea,” he remarks, sitting on the tree stump nearby. He waves you over, and you walk on your knees slowly before stopping in front of him. 

When he taps his thigh, you chance asking what he means. “Sheriff?”

He sighs, reaching for you and pulling you to lay over his lap, his strength on display. “Just hush now; the only words I wanna hear outta you are how good you beg. You’re up a creek, son, and the only paddle is my goddamned hand.” 

You’re lost to what you’re in for until a heavy wallop lands across your ass cheek. The force with which Bodecker spanks your ass is so much so that you cry out in pain. He must like the sound of that because he delivers another lash to your other cheek. He groans, and you can feel the bulge hardening in his pants just under your stomach.

You can’t believe it, but Sheriff Bodecker is spanking you like an ornery child. He’s enjoying it, too. While you hate this man, you can’t help but grind your dick into his thigh with every whack he executes. 

One after the other, he tears into you until you’re a sobbing mess. With a dick so hard it could cut diamonds, you give in to begging. “Sheriff, please. I can’t take anymore. I’ll do anything; just please make it stop.”

He pushes you off his lap, and you land on your back with a thud. “I told you, you would eventually start begging,” he breathes, coming down to kneel next to you. 

Before you know what is happening, Bodecker is bent over you as he fumbles thick fingers through unbuttoning and unzipping your pants. Your cock springs free in the cool, night air as your pants are tugged to your ankles. With your hands cuffed under you, you’re unable to have any shred of modesty. 

But it would seem that Bodecker doesn’t mind that at all. It would appear that he likes what he sees, judging by the way he palms himself while you watch him stroke you slowly. 

You throw your head back into the dirt, and he groans after you let out a whimper, so happy to finally be touched where you need it. But not for long. Letting go of your cock, he tuts when you whine at the loss. Lifting your legs, he folds you like a pretzel with your thighs pressing into your stomach.

You know exactly what Bodecker’s intentions are once you hear his belt being unbuckled. But it’s when you hear his zipper that you know you are about to be fucked. And you couldn’t decide whether to be upset or thankful. All you know is that you need him to get to it fast. 

Unable to see past your legs, you hear rather than see him spit into his hand. And you thank him silently for at least trying to make taking his length a bit more bearable. Once you feel the wet tip poking at your puckered opening, you wince and wiggle your ass but stop when a warning slap hits your thigh. 

“Hush, now. Sooner you let me in, sooner this’ll all be over,” he insists, pressing further inside you until he is balls-deep inside you. As if crafted by the gods, Bodecker is not only long but thicker than any guy you’ve been with. He grants you half a minute to get used to his size before he pulls out and thrusts back inside you. 

The strangled cries of ecstasy that leave your mouth echo through the trees; the sounds of flesh against flesh dance on the midsummer night’s breeze. You could never have guessed in a million years that you would end up in this predicament. Hell, you wish you would have thought of this earlier, fucking the Sheriff to keep him off your back. 

“Fuck! You’re so fuckin’ tight. Feels so fuckin’ good. Takin’ me so well, like a good little slut,” he praises, changing his angle and leaning into you. With his hands on the backs of your thighs, he pounds into you and revels in the garbled nonsense that trickles from your mouth. 

Your cock, hard and forgotten, twitches when Bodecker hits your prostate. Your ass clamps down around his cock as you let your orgasm wash over you. Stars explode behind your eyelids as you come untouched. Thick, creamy ropes coat your chest where your shirt rides up and exposes your skin. 

As you come down from your high, Bodecker chases his release. His grip on your thighs loosens, and he groans as he blows his load, painting your insides. As he softens, he slips from your hole. You feel his cum dribbling out of your used asshole as he stands up to straighten his uniform and dust off his slacks.

You lay there, looking up at him until he helps you to stand. He unceremoniously tugs up your pants as you stand on wobbly legs. Grabbing you by the arm, he leads you through the dark woods to where his cruiser is parked. You’re shoved into the backseat, and he takes his time staring you down before closing the car door.

Once seated in the front seat, Bodecker pulls a piece of candy from the glove box. Unwrapping it and putting it in his mouth, he noisily lets the hard candy clack against his teeth as he sucks on it. He all but ignores you as he turns the key in the ignition and pulls back onto the road. 

You sit quietly looking out of the window as the familiar sights of Knockemstiff come back into view. Your ass hurts and leaks on the entire drive while dried cum plasters your shirt to your torso, but you don’t make a fuss. Noticing the Sheriff has turned down the road leading to your house, you’re somewhat relieved for this night to be over. 

He stops in front of your house, shuts off the car, and turns around to face you with his arm thrown over the seat. “Am I gonna see you causing trouble in my county again? Or am I gonna have to take you back out to the woods and…straighten you out?” His piercing blue eyes show no other emotion but annoyance.

“No, sir,” you lie. You have no intention of being a good little soldier for your Daddy, the Sheriff, or anyone else. But a piece of you wouldn’t mind being a good little slut for Bodecker. 

“Good man,” he replies, turning back around and exiting the vehicle. Letting you out of the backseat, he uncuffs you and lets you start up the walkway to your parents’ house. He whistles to get your attention, and you turn around. “You be good, now. I’ll be watching.”

You simply nod, unsure of what to say. Pulling the key from your pocket, you unlock the front door and enter the house. Leaning against the front door after you close it, you hear his cruiser’s engine turn over and exit down the lane. 

The living room light comes on, and your father appears from the hallway in his pajamas and slippers. “Was that the Sheriff?”

“Yeah, Dad. He gave me an earful tonight. I’m exhausted; I just want to sleep,” you babble, stepping away from the door and walking past your father to get to your bedroom.

“Well, I hope you were listening to what he said. Maybe spend less time out there causing all kinds of trouble?” He encourages, crossing his arms.

“I’ll do my best, Dad,” you lie again, just wanting to disappear into your room. “Good night, Dad.”

“Good night, son,” he sighs, letting you off without a lecture.

You collapse on your bed, not bothering to take off your dirty clothes. A fitful sleep awaited you, and you wouldn’t keep it waiting long. That night, you dream of blue eyes following you through the dark, and it does nothing but spur you on to make the next wrong decision.

A/N: First time writing for Lee, first time in about ten years that I wrote M/M fic, and I fucking loved it. Hope you enjoy!!

[mrsgreenworld]

I know that I'm supposed to be working on my other fic but there's an idea that just won't leave my head. In the ideal world and maybe on Netflix this is how I'd like Aslaz bathroom scene to go in the next episode.

I don't own the show or the characters, they all belong to the Yabani writers, producers and the production company. This is only fanfiction.

The Matter Of Friendship

Asi pulls away all too soon, muttering:

"No, stop".

She tugs at his hands that are framing her face, forcing him to let go and when he doesn't, she takes a few steps away from him. Alaz is left frozen in place, with the hands holding onto thin air.

"You can't do that. I promised you that I'd be by your side, I'd help you get through everything. And I'll keep my promise. I'll be there for you but only as a friend".

Alaz feels completely dumbfounded and thinks that if she headbutted him it wouldn't hurt as much as her uttering the word "friend". Is she for real?

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"You must be kidding because there's no way you've just called yourself my friend".

Alaz puts a special stress on the word, spitting it out like it's an insult. And it actually is. Her thinking they could be friends is so damn insulting. It's worse than her hating him. Let them be enemies but not friends.

"Why? What's wrong with us being friends? We couldn't be more, maybe we can at least have this".

Oh god ... She is serious.

Alaz squeezes his eyes shut and runs his fingers through his hair.

"No, you most definitely are losing your goddamn mind and want me to completely lose what's left of mine" he mutters with the eyes still closed, pulling at his hair.

And then she drops a nonchalant comment:

"I don't understand why you're being so dramatic. What the hell is the problem?"

That makes him open his eyes and freaking yell, making her jump:

"You wanna know the problem with your genius idea??? I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!! And you love me!!!"

He feels - and probably looks as well - like a rabid dog but he doesn't care. He eats up all the space between them in one step and doesn't give her a chance to take an instinctive step back. He sneaks his right arm possessively around her middle and pulls their bodies together, hard. Then he puts his left hand on her neck, only to feel the mad staccato of her pulse under his fingers. He doesn't give her time to react, to think or even breathe, he just attacks her mouth. It's so different from a tender and timid kiss they'd shared just before she dropped the friendship bomb on him. This kiss is primal and pulls a surprised moan from her, giving him the access inside her mouth. He wants to make this so dirty that by the time he's done with her, the freaking "friendship" and "friends" vanish from her vocabulary entirely.

He turns and walks them blindly, only stopping to hoist her up on the granite countertop at the sinks. Then steps between her legs that part for him reflectively. Alaz pulls her roughly to the edge, smacking his hips right into her. He stops his assault on Asi's mouth only to whisper into her used lips:

"Do you feel that, friend?"

He thrusts shallowly to make his point, earning a whimper from Asi. Alaz's hands slide up her bare thighs, leaving trails of goosebumps, and dive under the ridiculously short dress. Just when Alaz's fingers brush Asi's underwear, she catches his wrists and yanks his hands from under her dress. But Alaz has felt everything he needed to feel.

"As long as you're like this for me and I'm like this for you, there's no universe where we can be friends".

Asi looks ready to murder him when she pushes at his chest and jumps from the granite counter. She tugs at her dress and hisses at him:

"The only thing you proved is that you're an animal".

Alaz just smirks.

"Okay, fine, I'm an animal. I'd rather be an animal than your friend".

Asi lets out a noisy breath and suddenly just looks tired.

"Why do you have to make this hard?"

"Because we love each other".

Asi throws up her hands in frustration.

"And what difference does it make?"

"All the difference in the world".

Alaz tries to get closer again but she won't allow it, pushing him and taking a few steps back, to the only escape route - the door.

"If it made all the difference in the world, it wouldn't be this hard, don't you think?"

With these words she pulls the door and slips out, leaving Alaz in the charged little room alone.

[sl33paholics]

Can't Be Fulfilled

Jotaro Kujo x Black!Female reader

Warning(s): Mentions of divorce, infidelity, domestic v¡olence, arguing, angst, listen the shit is depressing alr? Felt like writing one bc I got tired of the smut. Can be triggering into some readers.

We're close to 40 followers. Thx everyone 🤲🏾

"I don't think this is going to work anymore..."

You stood near the bedroom door with your hand on your elbow, looking at your husband on the bed before staring at the other side of the room as your eyes quickly met the ground. The room was completely silent, save for the quiet sounds of your breathing and the sound of your heart beating in your chest.

"What do you mean?"

You flinched. "Just... I'm tired of this. All of this, Jotaro." You sighed, turning your head slightly toward him. "All of it...this is too much. Days, weeks, hell, even a month of you being away because of your work, it's not fair." Your voice was barely audible through your closed teeth. Tears stung your eyes, but you weren't ready to give in yet. You had been trying so hard not to break down, but it just wasn't working out. You had tried to keep it together for years but it wasn't possible anymore. You watched as Jotaro put his book aside on the nightstand right next to the bed and sat straight up, facing your direction. "It ain't fair...for me...for Jolyne." He opened his mouth to say something, but you interrupted him, continuing. "And it's not fair for you either, Jotaro." His expression grew grim after your last statement, knowing that he had failed you once again, but he wasn't expecting this.

"Y/N...don't tell me what I think you're trying to say." His tone sounded more serious than usual. "Are you saying...you want us to split up? Is that what you're getting at? Y/N...we can make this work. We always have-"

"Yes," you said quietly. "I tolerated your absence for these years but you have to understand how things are now, Jotaro. Our daughter is growing up and as the years go by I don't want her to..." You paused. "Not this again."

Jotaro didn't let you finish. "She's seven years old." You wanted to respond but Jotaro continued anyway. "I work my ass off to provide for this family. I try. You know I try, Y/N. Every day." He took a deep breath and stared at his hands resting in his lap. "To keep both of you safe. To make sure we'll be okay. And this is how you repay me? With this? This bullshit? This stupid fucking arrangement of yours?" The tears were streaming down your face silently now and you felt yourself crumple into yourself further. Jotaro finally stood up. "We've had this conversation before, Y/N."

"I'm sorry," you choked out between sobs. "I'm sorry, Jotaro, I am. But you have to listen to me." Your voice was small and soft. "You don't know how many times Jolyne asks me when you're going to be home or if you're coming back, at all. When I'm bathing her, her bus dropping her off, braiding her hair, or even reading her to sleep."

Jotaro scoffed and stepped closer to you. "She misses her daddy." You could feel his eyes bore holes into you. "Even if she doesn't talk about it." He stopped close enough to touch you but still far enough not to scare you.

"She does," Jotaro responded. "But we shouldn't split up over this Y/N I told you whenever I got the job, that I won't be here as often. I'll try to respond when I can or if I have time off. What about that can't you understand?" Jotaro's voice rose with each word, becoming louder until you were sure the neighbors would hear what he was saying. You bit your lip and averted your eyes from his gaze. The truth was, you hated when he used this argument against you. It made everything hurt. Made everything worse.

"Do NOT try to pin this on ME!" you clapped back, seeing Jotaro startled, which is rare. "Of course I understand! I'm not stupid, JoJo! If it wasn't for your goddamn job, we wouldn't be having this discussion! Talking to me as if I have no damn sense, I supported you when you were pursuing your degree!" finally turning to look him in his ocean eyes. "Can't you see our marriage is falling apart?!" Your voice broke at the end. "I make sure to text you every morning, leave a voicemail every time you don't pick up the fucking phone, even LETTERS! It makes me believe something happened to you!" you continued.

"That's because I'm WORKING! I can't be on or even near my phone every second of the hour to respond to you. What's wrong with you, woman?!" Jotaro shook his head. "You have to understand that I'm stressed out too, you know? Not only with work but make sure to at least keep in touch with you every time I have the chance to!" he shot back. You pushed him out of your way, angrily stomping out of your shared bedroom into the hallway. Jotaro followed behind you as if his life depended on it and you heard him call you an idiot. You ignored him. You kept heading towards the living room.

Jotaro came to a halt when he saw packed luggage on the ground. "What the fuck is this?" he asked.

"I'm serious, Jotaro. This isn't going to work out no more," you replied without looking at him. He grabbed you by your arm and spun you around to face him. You tried to yank your arm out of his grasp but failed, you were nowhere near his level of strength. The sharp pain of being pinned against the wall. "Let go of me-" "You got some damn nerve!" Jotaro roared out in your face, quickly shutting you up. "Y/N, we are NOT getting this divorce! We've had our ups and downs, I admit that. But we always work it out one way or another, you're NOT leaving me for another guy who you think that's ten times better than me!" "Ten times better?" you echoed incredulously. Jotaro looked like he was getting ready to explode, the veins in his forehead bulging dangerously, and his lips turned downward into a frown. "I never said I was cheating on you, I wouldn't do that! Just because we don't have sex as much anymore, doesn't mean I would cheat!" you screamed.

Nothing but back and forth. It was for certain that your neighbors could hear you two bickering and the police were called. If only you two could see the green-eyed little girl peaking through her slightly cracked door watching and clutching onto the dolphin plushie her dear father gifted on her birthday. The sad expression on Jolyne's face watching her parents argue. She knew it was bad news. It was very alarming news. Sickening. Disgusting. Horrifying. Jolyne was scared and confused. She knew her parents loved each other deeply. How could they fight like this?

"You ain't leaving. That's final." Jotaro stared into your dark brown-colored eyes before letting your arms go, watching you slowly slip to the ground as you slightly sobbed in your hands. He stood there before kneeling to your level, gently wrapping his arms around you, embracing you in a hug. "I'm sorry, dear," Jotaro said quietly. "I know it feels like I'm abandoning you, but please believe me when I say we will work this out, together." You nodded, sniffling and leaning further into his hold. You closed your eyes and gave into his embrace.

You can't help but be disillusioned.

[walder-138]

Hey Pooks! ♥️ Here for the funny ask game for any of your OCs!

🚗 - “who are they on a road trip?”

🧃- “do they drink apple juice? (That’s not a metaphor for anything i just mean normal Apple juice)”

🫵 - “IF you met them IRL what would you do? what do they say to you?”

🏛️- “they’ve suddenly become President of the moon. What do they do?”

Heyo pookie bear! It’s nice to see you again!!!!

(🚗) Oz is the driver. Hands down, no doubts about it. He would double check to make sure everyone has gone to the bathroom, and he will NOT stop the car until they get to a rest stop. He doesn’t wanna hear about how tired or hungry or how much you need to piss, he will not stop the car once he gets to the highway.

If you have snacks, you best believe Oz’s gonna do that hand-bowl thing at you. Chances are he did pay for it, AND he’s paying for gas, and he’s driving the car… yeah, give him a handful or two. Or three. Or four. Or all of it. Would also ask for a sip of your drink, then precede to drink half of it.

Abbey is the substitute driver and overpacks for the road-trip. It’s like she expects that the car will crash, someone to get shot, a bridge to collapse, and the police to start chasing them. She shoves so much shit into the car for an 8-hour trip that they can barely fit any people in it. Abbey would definitely the most responsible person in the car, and would make sure the driver rests when necessary.

You would never get bored in a car ride with Abbey. She’s got everything. If you complained, she’d hand you a kaleidoscope. If you were hungry, she’d give you a bag of chips. Abbey will play rock paper scissors with you. She wants everyone to have a good trip, and somebody being in a mood’s gonna fuck that up.

Annika starts genuinely tweaking after about an hour on the road. After the realization hits that she’s gonna have to stay still for 8 hours, the moment she starts acting up. Annika would torture everyone in the car for no reason other than boredom. The driver would kick her out or put her in the trunk.

You better hope you aren’t sitting next to her or she’s gonna put a wad of chewing gum in your hair. Better yet, get her a book or to distract her for about 15 minutes as you pray to whatever God/s you believe in that she falls asleep.

(🧃)

Oz: “I’m not fucking five years old.”

Abbey: “I love apple juice.”

Annika: “Am I allowed ferment it?”

“No? Well fuck you too then.” (yes)

(🫵)

Okay, if I saw a motherfucker that looked like him and was named Oswald walking down the pavement, I’d deadass cross the street. I don’t care how many cars are coming, I’d do anything to get as far away from him as possible. Even if we didn’t know each other, I’d still walk away from him. Oz is too unsettling.

“So ya like to play God, huh? Fuck around with mine, and everyone else’s lives? I can’t believe I let sum goddamned teenager drive my life like this. Well, guess it’s time for me to cut your story short. Was gonna have a boring ending anyway.” 😳 (I’m so dead) (the shit I put him through) (I think he had it worse than the other two)

I’d get along pretty well with Abbey. She’s nice, and tries to give everyone a chance. Even if I’m the reason for every bad thing in her life. I’d go on awhile, thinking that she doesn’t know who I am, until she’d grab me by the shoulders and stare into my eyes.

“You treat us as if we’re not real. As if we’re just figments of your imagination. Yet here I am now, skin, blood, and bones. I’m still here, you have not, and will not change. Our suffering is entertainment for you, and you call yourself a good person? You say you love us? If this is your love, then I’m happy I don’t know you well enough to see your hate.” (she grew up in a cult, so knows how to make people existential .) (she wouldn’t hurt me, but she will keep me up at night.) (She doesn’t like hurting people, but she doesn’t like being a doormat) (She’s usually such a sweetheart why-)

Same thing with Oz, I’d cross the street if I saw Annika. I could tell there was something off about her from that look in her eyes. That barely noticeable tremor and the thousand yard stare. Annika is a erratic, unstable, and unpredictable individual, I’d probably call 911 on her ass.

“You should have given me a redeeming quality. Something that I’ll see in your eyes that will make me not want to kill you, or some other peachy bullshit like that. You’re a writer, you should have consider these things! Dumbass!”

(🏛️) (💀)

Oz would immediately invest in anti aircraft weaponry as he knows the United States would be after his ass in about 2 days.

Abbey would probably end up selling the moon for money.

Annika would burrow underneath the surface of the moon as she believes somebody is going to try and assassinate her.

Thank you again for the ask!

[vivixrocks]

I swear nothing happens anymore

There’s no way to make friends anywhere. Especially on the internet. Ever since 2018ish everyone has been going to shit. I miss the old days of the Internet. Not just fro nostalgia but for the actual state of being that it was at the time. I hate TikTok I hate all these influencers I hate that you have to act like a brand or keep your online image “clean” i fucking hate it. Everyone is so goddamn annoying. But I’m so tired. I just want to talk to people. I just want to have some close friends. But everyone is shallow. Or they don’t want a relationship like that. Or they are mature or responsible enough. I hate it but that’s not something I can change.rea That’s how they are. And I have what they choose. It still frustrating though.

I keep wondering how many more years will I have to be surrounded by everybody but still be alone? Sometimes I think that I should’ve stocked with my toxic friend group just not be lonely. I rather die than doing that though. They were fucking terrible. Not all of them, one girl was cool but god. They fucking told me I was a horrible friend because I was talking about how our other friend was creep and pervert. He uses racist slurs against black people too and they’re only Defense is “he isn’t like that anymore” HE STILL IS. Anyways I really hope all of them aren’t friends with him anymore because he fucking sucks. I dont want them to go through the same things he said to me even though I hate them now and I’ll never forgive for not believing me.

It’s kind of funny how I’m writing all this was a blank expression on my face. Usually when people post someth8ng like you imagine that they look to be in agony but it’s just s9me guy smiling at the screen talking about how fucked up the world is usually. I also don’t understand why people say the world is fucked up. Like and? Yeah it is, it always have been this emotions existed. Animals rape each other just like we do.

I am exhausted I finished recording something for y’all reading this. It’s me playing video games and being awkward.this post was suppose to be about how I miss the old internet but slowly became this I guess. Do peo0le still make friends through tumblr? I can barely speak to people offline or online no where fucking safe.

Fuck agoraphobia man. Ruined my life. Eat shit.

[adelle-ein]

h!rry p0tter stans are pathetic, disgusting brats and i want them all to block me now so i'm going ahead and posting a rant about the terrible wizard books and their terrible fandom and their embarrassing fucking behavior just to get it off my chest and hopefully get them to STOP FUCKING FOLLOWING ME i swear they just keep popping up with their dumbass usernames and slytherclaw in their descriptions. this is long and rambling but i just really need to scream into the void for a bit

this also goes 99% only for adult hp fans. if you are fourteen and still obsessed with hp that's okay. you're fourteen. you'll grow up someday.

Unfortunately i must give my stupid "qualifications" to hate hp and its fans first i guess. Yes, from ages 8-17ish maybe, I loved hp, it was my main special interest/ocd obsession for pretty much the entirety of that time. blah blah read the books a zillion times wrote fanfic first tumblr fandom *checks watch* went to the theme park owned merch was in the high school hp club etc. I still unfortunately have a hp username in some old things where usernames are permanent. Stuck and unchangeable! Alas. Okay are we done? Do you understand that i used to be one of you morons before i got old enough to have critical thinking? am i deemed worthy to talk about this now???

cool great thanks. Anyway. I'm TIRED of being expected to be patient with hp stans!!!. It's their childhood! It's nostalgic! It's their hyperfixation and their special interest! Wizard boy SAVED THEIR LIVES and you have to be PATIENT with their clinging to it twenty fucking years later!!! ...No actually. No i fucking don't. No trans person, no jewish person, nobody needs to put up with your sobbing speeches about how actually you HATE jkr but you just LOVE hp so goddamn much and you're sTILL A REAL ALLY. can you at least, at the bare minimum, if you MUST engage with HP content, SHUT UP about it?? why can't you even do that??? good god.

I think people are still clinging to the idea that JKR is actually a liberal who's just really stupid on trans rights. Don't get me wrong: that's still awful that they're willing to throw trans people under the bus like that! If that was true I would still be saying to not support her and to shut up about hp for thirty fucking seconds! However, that is just...objectively not true. Woman is a fascist. Woman is constantly expressing support for conservative laws and measures. She has done effectively nothing to support abortion rights or feminism or lgb rights in years, she LITERALLY ONLY cares about hurting trans people and preventing Scottish independence and keeping her taxes low. I believe she recently dusted off her old fucking charity to sponsor the education of some women in Iran? She used to do stuff like that pretty regularly but now she so, so rarely does. And even when she does it's just like. ticking off a box and she's back to going on another unhinged rant about trans people. The people she has allied herself with are far-right, neo-nazi, white supremacist groups. She has happily expressed support for anti-abortion activists, pro-LGB conversion therapy pundits, self-professed fascists, people who believed jews control the universe, and even rapists including depp and m. manson and various horrific "gender criticals". OVER AND OVER. She's fash! She's far-right all the way fash! Any "lefty" terf who's allying themselves with her is straight up in the frog/scorpion situation and i will point and laugh while also being amazed just how incredibly stupid and selfish people are. And she keeps siccing her followers on small trans accounts without money or fame on their side, who then get harassed for fucking YEARS on end! She knows what she is doing! She is a bitter, twisted, evil lady!!!

anyway. What I know most about, being jewish, is what she's said and done in the jew hating department. so now i'm gonna rant about that specifically jewish stuff.

I am sick of her antisemitism being reduced to "there are goblins" and similar. Especially bc people then point to, like, fucking owl house and whatever and go "see this is also antisemitic!!" Well, technically, yeah. it is. but like...accidentally. I'm pretty used to seeing evil big-nosed money-loving freaks and lizard people all over media, I've just kind of grown up with that. Jo's antisemitism is not accidental. Joanne has Griphook as the *literal* devil on Harry's shoulder throughout the gringotts saga of book 7. He's the one who convinces Harry to start using unforgivable curses (remember that shaun video in which he points out that the potterverse has no "bad actions" only "bad people?" yeah harry uses the torture and mind control spells like, repeatedly, with ZERO FUCKING REFLECTION OR CONSEQUENCES OR CARE and it's fine, they're such bad books man.) Griphook literally leads harry away from the light of christ and backstabs him. bill warns harry that goblins are Not Like Us, because they have evil and weird and unholy traditions and magic and steal power from wizards. jo specialized in studying the historical roots of legends and fairy tales throughout uni and has talked about them at length. she literally dual majored in "classics" (and french, strangely, considering how she writes french people lmao. failing upwards?) And yet she managed to go as dark and bad as possible on every occasion. Joanne knew exactly what she was writing. AND EVEN IF SHE DIDN'T, somehow, she has doubled down in subsequent years. There was no, "yeah, sorry about the goblins and the house elf shit, I dunno what I was thinking but we won't be doing that anymore!" House elves and goblins continue to be featured and doubled down on, between pottermore, the terrible fantastic beasts movies, and this game (you can own your own slaves in the game i believe, hooray!) Fantastic beasts even features a ***part-house-elf*** woman. Let THAT horror sink in. The franchise has doubled down on and actively CHOSEN TO FOCUS ON its worst and darkest parts and there is no more way to hide behind any semblance of ignorance at this point.

(The same goes for Umbridge being raped by centaurs. There is NO FUCKING WAY that was not deliberate. The woman literally studied english fairy tales for school. SHE KNEW. Rape is a punishment in HPland. Hermione literally gets sexually assaulted by a guy and Harry tells her it serves her right for leading him on and the book nods right along with him. Joanne hates cis women too lol)

People have written at length about the game's plot and why it is clear, blatant, not accidental antisemitism and blood libel. The game's original director was a far right gamergate lunatic and I SINCERELY doubt he was the only one of the crew who was. None of this was an "oopsie poopsie we made a big nosed shady advisor" and the devs are not the sweet widdle victims you morons want them to be! And continuing deeper into the franchise: there's a whole lot of nazi imagery surrounding Grindelwald in Fantastic Beasts (originally played by fucking Depp the wifebeater who collects nazi memorabilia for kicks so that's on the nose). Guess which main character turns to the dark side and starts doing evil nazi shit? The one named Goldstein. The Jew. Yay! Also she was, like, mind controlling her good christian boyfriend to force him to marry her, so there's a lot going all the way down on that one huh.

And honestly, even when people are expressing allyship it's all so fucking performative! You all just keep going "oh there's goblins" and then recommending fucking alternatives. I don't want to hear about how pjo/earthsea/witch hat atelier/owl house/twilight/animorphs/whatever is Wholesome And Perfect and Good! This is not an opportunity to stan! Do you people really think, when discussing a violently antisemitic game that's part of a franchise made by a fascist, the appropriate way to end your twee little thread is by promoing some OTHER children's media that you think has the morally pure high ground? Do you realize how performative that makes your so-called allyship feel?? Do you genuinely believe that these GROWN ASS ADULTS simply did not know that other children's media about wizards and magic exists in the world and that is the only thing driving them to keep worshiping at joanne's feet even now?? You think they just genuinely believed this video game is the only video game in the universe? The really rich rec I keep seeing people give is fucking NARNIA, which features all the blatantly Muslim-coded characters being rejected from heaven and presumably ending up in hell when the world ends. Like Susan will one day, because she turned away from Jesus and is a disgusting slut who likes boys and lipstick too much. Narnia fucking sucks. Even the shriekcast people cannot stop sucking off narnia it's so goddamn annoying

The whole thing reminds me of how, at peak 3h-popularity-fighting, there were many long threads going around twitter about how Hubert falls into the "shady advisor" stereotype and how Rhea and co are secretly lizards and how that's not great. Yeah, sure, not great, old stereotypes rooted in antisemitism that media can't seem to turn away from. And then those SAME PEOPLE would talk about "instead stan tellius!" Tellius which features these characters, who form a tribe specifically known for being backstabbing greedy traitors obsessed with money, who sell one of their blond white beautiful allies into slavery for money. THAT tellius. And that's what i mean by performative fucking allyship. Based on their own behavior, none of those people appeared to give a real shit about Jews. It looked like they were only pretending to so they could come up with a way to dunk on Modern Fire Emblem and encourage people to play Classic Fire Emblem. And not that the modern games didn't deserve criticizing! But it was so, so clear that none of them had any fucking clue what they were talking about, were just pointing to tropes and going "antisemitic!" without bothering to learn the hows and whys and critically analyze the context. So I do strongly encourage people to try and learn about WHY certain media is so bad and, while intent certainly isn't the be and end all, why certain portrayals are so much worse than others. Naesala is a damn sight more of an antisemitic caricature than Rhea, and fucking obviously the wizard school game is worse than owl house! Also reminder that the great ace attorney localization uses antisemitic slurs and everyone in the fandom ignored that :) performative asses

aNyhoo. The antisemitism in HP is not just "there are goblins." It is much worse, much more insidious, and Warner Bros, avalanche, etc have all joined right in, doubled down, and made it very clear that antisemitism as well as slavery apologism is a key part of the series and not going away for a good long time by making it EVEN WORSE in the games and movies. even if she wasn't seeing a penny of any of it (lol!) her ideas are being happily and uncritically spread by you fucking lunatics.

and every time someone gets an anon going "maybe don't support hp?" and you clutch your fucking pearls and fall to the floor crying about how it's TRANSFORMATIVE and YOU HEADCANON HARRY AS TRANS and IT WAS YOUR CHILDHOOD and blah blah fucking blah i both lose even more respect for you and become even more certain that this franchise is not worth transforming. it's simply not. hp is rapidly becoming a symbol of hate, one that fascists flock around and support (yes, they were burning the books twenty years ago, but IT IS NOT TWENTY YEARS AGO YOU ARE AN ADULT NOW MARJORIE, it's a franchise that the fash love now, and why wouldn't they? it espouses all their ideals!)

Just grow up. It is really, and i mean this from the bottom of my heart, genuinely unhealthy and sad to still be so deeply tied to your favorite book when you were ten. It's time to move on. It's past time to move on. Thank the books for what they did for you and let them go. Personally, I can't engage with any HP media. I derive zero joy from it and haven't since like...I don't know, 2016ish maybe. Even the last dregs I clung to were more fond memories of sharing the books with friends and family. I truly don't understand how anyone can still like them knowing what they now stand for. But even if you're not like me, even if you've managed to fool yourself into believing this is a franchise about love and kindness and leftism (lol), it's time, it's PAST time, to move forward. Nothing wrong with liking old media or children's media or even problematic media (to an extent ofc). But when a series is doing this much tangible harm, when you are so deeply entwined with it that you feel you have no identity without it, when nostalgia has become more important than your principles...then you need to let it go. If you don't care enough about trans people, or Jewish people, or rape victims or Black people or Chinese people or Irish people or Scottish people or gay people, then do it for yourself, because being shackled to your childhood like that is simply not healthy.

Okay that was the only paragraph I was going to be nice in back to bitching. Read another fucking book, engage with other fucking media and no i am not going to give you recs and hold your hand and tell you you're a good person for doing it!! do it yourselves you are ADULTS. and remember: the difference between kanye and jo is that one of them has lost his filter and is saying the quietest parts the loudest, and also is black, and you should think long and hard as to WHY you find one of them acceptable to support and not the other, because they very much share the same views and have expressed support and love for the same people.

Personally I don't see why you'd even fucking pirate this game. It looks like another cookie cutter blandass triple a runs like shit but gets straight 9/10 mess. like it's just cyberpunk again but wizards. it's yet another flat bland Skyrim Two. by devs who are known for their crappy shovelware. And every hp game that has come out has sucked (did you know they had a pokemon go clone? i think it only lasted like a year. lots and lots of shitty f2p stuff in general.) Why do you need this game so badly? why are you SO wrapped up in nostalgia that you're willing to support terrible shit and play a meh game? there is something fundamentally wrong with your morals if this is where they end. always the same people who cry about how there are good slytherins or whatever but don't give enough of a shit about people to care about, like, real things.

Also if you truly believe you need to "support the devs" by buying this game: where do you draw the line, then? What makes these particular AAA devs need my $60 so badly? By that logic I apparently need to buy every single game in the world to support every single dev in the world?? WHAT??? If you say this you are PROBABLY lying, but if you truly believe it you are incredibly stupid. thanks.

Also professor fig dies at the end in all endings and rookwood is the one behind anna's curse he framed the goblins for it <3

(also this all goes for diehard aot stans too i want you and your nazi propaganda anime to fuck off too thanks)

[solitaireships]

bandaid, dance, sick, and smile for James? :] - @selfrinsert

Band-aid 🩹 - If there was one thing about your f/o that you’d want people to understand, what would it be?

God, where would I even start with how bad people get talking about him

I guess the bare minimum thing would be that he is not a solely good or bad person. The thing with James is that he did do horrible things by the end of his story, but some people will literally make up things that he did not do to try to make him worse than he actually was

James was not perfect. He was paranoid and stubborn and refused to admit he could have been in the wrong, and that doomed him and everything he cared about. But he wasn't out there burning down innocent towns or whatever the hell people incapable of understanding complexity in characters want you to be

bcs we know that James is someone who did good things. There's the stuff on the smaller scale that we see actually first hand in the show, but there are lots of little lines about him doing genuinely good, kind things in there too. Marrow said that he thought James could genuinely change Atlas, something that I think is a sign that James was actually trying to make a difference. Then Glynda mentions something too about how James always does what he thinks will be the best for people

Clearly he wasn't some horrible monster like people want him to be. But thinking he was makes him easier to process. bcs admitting that he was someone who did care-- who wanted to keep people safe and who did what he could to make a better place-- that complicates things. bcs if he was a good person once, that means even people who mean well can fall and do horrible things. And that's something a lot of people have trouble wrapping their heads around. But christ would understand it make my experience trying to talk about him a lot better bcs goddamn am I tired of having 90% of discussion of him be calling him evil or debating his morality

Dance 💃 - Can you or your f/o dance?

James is a good dancer, though mainly in terms of more formal dancing, like waltzing. It's kinda a necessity for being at Atlesian parties, so he got some training for that before becoming general

Sick 🤒 - Your f/o is sick in bed, what do you do?

I'd basically have to fight him to get him to stay in bed, he woud hate to admit that he's sick and just try to fight through it and act like everything's fine. I'd have to try to convince him to stay home and to rest, and the easiest way to do that would be to stay at home with him all day (and try to distract him with movies and cuddles). I also do everything I can to make sure he's comfortable and has medicine or anything if he needs that

Smile ☺️ - What about your f/o makes you smile every single time? Furthermore, what’s something you do that makes your f/o smile every time?

It's so cute when he plays with his tie. It's a way that he stims and I like watching him do that. For me, idk, I think he'd like when I play with his hair

[maerenee930]

random thoughts.

just kinda venting. need to get some thoughts and feelings out of my head/off of my chest 😓

also heads up, i do talk about anxiety and depression and i do swear a little bit.

(not that i’m really expecting anyone to read this lol.)

apologies in advance for sounding whiny, obnoxious and/or annoying. also i know only i can change things for myself and have to be willing to put in the effort to change things for myself if i really and truly do want them to change. i just haven’t really talked with anyone about how i’m feeling in a minute cause i don’t want to bother anyone or come off as whiny and annoying so i’m getting those thoughts and feelings out on here so i can just get them out of my head. and hoping it’ll help with this heavy/weighted feeling on and in my chest right now. (thanks to my depression and anxiety.)

so much going on in my head and so much unnecessary anxiety right now.

i feel like i’m going crazy.

fucking hell, i just feel like i am crazy lol.

it just feels like there’s so much going on and i can’t handle all of it.

too much overthinking and the more i do over think, the worse everything feels and the more i feel that i’m just making everything worse.

i can’t even focus on one thought for too long/long enough to kind of like calm it down or figure out why it’s bothering me and what i need to do to fix it because my anxiety kicks in even harder and so i stop feeling anxiety about that specific thing, my brain switches to something else so i don’t fixate on that last thing and it just goes on and on with anything i think about.

i’m tired of my brain being like this. and i’m just really tired of my brain lol.

i’m tired of feeling like i’m drowning and can barely keep my head above the water.

i’m tired of feeling like and making myself feel like i am going crazy or just straight up am crazy 😣

i’m really fucking tired of feeling so overwhelmed by everything (or what feels like mostly everything) and that i can’t keep up with it all.

i’m just really fucking tired.

i so fucking tired of my depression making me feel worthless randomly or that i’m just in everyone’s way or that everyone would be better off if i weren’t here

big side note!! most times it more like mean if i left and ran away, other times it’s more like not here at all/all together and permanently. which makes me feel worse because i fucking hate that i even think like that or could even feel that way about myself and fuuuuuck!! i’m just really goddamn fucking sick and tired of my mental health being what it is/so fucking shitty and am so fucking tired of my brain being broken.

i have so many other thoughts and feelings i want to get out but don’t feel like rambling more and don’t want to focus on this feeling anymore. i just want to exist and fucking not worry about anything and just fucking like let myself live my goddamn life in ducking peace!

and there’s just too much too talk about and i can’t focus on one thing long enough to feel like i’m fully able to get out everything i want to and to make it all make sense.

and fuck! it all feels just really so fucking overwhelming 😖😭😭