#absolutely deranged behaviour from me

[warpedpuppeteer]

Gtfo right now. Buck came to see Abby during the full moon and he's talking about gravity pulling people together and she's like it's not science. So he says maybe it's magic. AND YOU KNOW WHO ELSE SAID BEING WITH SOMEONE WAS LIKE MAGIC?! EDDIE DIAZ THAT'S WHO!!

[suguru-getos]

| Bully!Satoru Gojo x F!reader | Part 2 |

-> Part 1

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna. Chapter Summary: After humiliating Gojo in the cafeteria, he has better ways to force pay-back. Hey! That shirt you ruined, was expensive.

Warnings: Oh he is a real piece of shit here with a barely there moral compass. Mentions of humiliation, bul!ying, belittling, teasing. The reader is slowly getting into an auto-pilot mode.

New chapter every week, comment down below if you want to be tagged! ^^

Taglist: @mc-reborn @tvdumarvelhpsimp @alula394 @getoxmahito @knanamii @he4rts444mi @localginger22 @animeisforkings @ran6ia @creative1writings @lenaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @zoemaelol @shoutascoffeepot

It feels like pure humiliation, the way you walked off from the cafeteria. Satoru stood there, the warm, sticky gravy sticking to him. It feels like a sensory nightmare. White hot rage simmering through the very marrow of his bones. He exhales, glancing up just to see if there was anyone dumb enough to enjoy his misery he could stomp on. Nobody had the balls to, nobody has the balls to until you come across.

What was your fucking problem?

He walked away from the cafeteria, long strides eager to seek you out and punish you ruthlessly for your deranged and depraved, bratty behaviour. Satoru Gojo is worshipped like the literal god, who the hell are you? Meanwhile, you, amidst all your molten courage flowing in your veins, were the epitome of anxiety. You can't mistake his blazing steamy rage filled blue eyes greying… to be anything but merciful. You're not delusional.

A veiny, pale hand gripped your hair, the other wrapped around your mouth as you were dragged through the lonesome corridor. You whimpered at the burn in your scalp and before you could register what was happening, Satoru was standing in front of you. Baring his hostile teeth as he grits. "You've done it." He's almost amused, contemplating what more he can do to you, what more can you really handle… then again, does it matter if you can or can’t handle?

"Here's what's going to happen…" He pushed himself against your chest, unrelenting at how disgusting you might feel, transferring the filth on his shirt to yours. You struggled like a fish out of water. Satoru is taller, bulkier, stronger and you realize that soon enough.

"You will be my silly little pet, because guess how much this shirt costs?" He chuckled, whispering gravely against the shell of your ear. "1800 dollars, missy."

You feel shocked upon hearing the price, eyes widening as he slowly leaned his hand away so you could speak.

"Either you fucking pay me back, with interest for each day. Or you shut the fuck up and be my silly little pet for a month I will stomp on, my little useless errand girl. Sounds fitting to someone who looks like you, no?" He smirks, watching the colour fade in your eyes. He is sort of impressed by himself, the way he instantaneously thought of such a brilliant idea. That money means nothing to him, but not everyone is that blessed.

Once you finally gathered what was happening, you raised a brow. "Why should I be an errand girl to someone who collided against me and is now begging to be paid for his filthy shirt? Learn to walk properly asshole!" You spit back, eyes siren and jaw gritted.

"Kay then, I will ask your mommy and daddy to pay for their daughter's bullshit." He left your hair, the pain subsiding into a dull ache.

He wasn't fucking serious was he? You and your parents weren't essentially on the best terms, they have just shifted to Tokyo and while they would be willing to pay, your self-respect wouldn't allow you. Your mother would keep taunting you about this for the rest of your life… you really don't want that.

Satoru noticed the shift in your behaviour when he mentioned your parents - "Heh, guess they don't like you either huh?" He smirked, not caring how hard it would jab you. It kinda did.. but you couldn't care less. Not coming from him especially.

"10 days, of me being your errand girl." You wanted to be ploughed down into death once you uttered these words. There was nothing you could do anyways. Parents involving, not so much…

"A month." Satoru shrugged, smirking. He has you exactly where he wants. His sole goal is to make you cry every single day and make sure you apologize for being a little shit to him.

"And, you do whatever the fuck I say you to. If I tell you to clean my shoe with your tongue, you 'fucking' clean my shoe with your tongue."

Oh it felt like dying, like you were stabbed endlessly by a thousand swords when he said that.

"How do I know after a month you wouldn't bother me or my parents with the money?" Satoru raised a brow, smirking. "I'm a man of my word, little bitch." He squeezed your face in a single hand, watching your puckered lips. "I say you're free after a month, then you're free after a month, though you'll wish every single day that you paid me back." He chuckled, rolling his eyes as he let go of your face with a jerk, letting the back of your head collide a little with the wall.

You were so cute, small, stompable…

"See me when the school ends."

Satoru walked away with that, and your shoulders slumped. This is what it has truly come to? You needed some time to yourself after this, why are you always so pushy and so cocky? What if you didn't humiliate him… a month of sheer torture is what you've signed up for, just to not be tortured by your mother. Besides, it's a lot of money and you don't think your parents owe you because a shitty ass senior got pissed.

You dragged your feet to him, after the school ended. His whole group was present, they were busy chitchatting. Satoru perked up like a spoiled brat the moment his eyes glazed through you beneath the glasses. "My little lap bitch is hereeee~" He perked, walking towards you and smirking at how you grimace when you see the way he was treating you.

"Go, fetch us popsickles." He grinned, giving you the money. You didn't say anything, trying oh so hard not to slap him across the face and breathing out. "Mkay."

You looked up, counting the number of people, "Excluding yourself, no popsickles for you." He simply shrugged.

Oh he was getting beneath your nerves so bad. "I wouldn't buy them for myself." You explained anyway, "Don't wan' em." With that, you walked away, getting to the vending machine and getting those fucking popsickles which you rather wish were poisoned so he dies for good.

When you're back, he made sure you give them to everyone, made sure you give it to him- after opening the packet- and then dropped it.

"Whoops, gotta run again lil girl." He chuckled, his friends were… stunned too. Satoru is a cunt, they all know that. He pushes people through their limits but he's never been this much of an asshole towards any girl. Maybe because none of them did anything except slither around him and worship him.

You tear up, you have never… felt this humiliated in your life ever. Nanami gives his popsickle to Satoru, "Here, Gojo san. I don't want it. Please take it." He is so polite, kind… but his Senpai had other plans.

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" He raises his voice a little, and you are left with nothing but a reminder of him demanding this money from your parents. Your feet are stoned to the ground though, unmoving. "Okay." You managed to say again, taking a deep breath as you force yourself to the vending machine yet again, bringing back his popsickle.

You thought highschool would be fun, you would make new friends, go to karaoke parties, excel in subjects, in extra curriculars, whatnot.. you never expected yourself landing into the clutches of rich asshole Gojo Satoru.

Once you're back, you unwrap it again and give it to him. For fuck's sake he finally accepted.

"Kay, gimme your number." He extends his hand with his phone on it, letting you reluctantly add your number and saving it as 'Servant'. Showing it to you to rub salt on your wounds. "Off you go, see you tomorrow." He smiled. You were relieved you don't need to see his face for the rest of the day.

Once you reached home, you cried. All the emotions overwhelming you all at once. Guess he was right, he will make you cry everyday..

The rest of the day passes by in a haze before you find yourself back in school again.

"OH good morning little errand girl!" Satoru's presence looms, he was waiting for you at the entrance, you looked up at him. Not responding for now. You needed to get to class. OH so you're being indifferent now? Satoru is pissed…

"So eager to go to class, I have a job for you though!" He snickers, watching your stompy feet come to a pause. Good, you were still listening. He will push you a little more. "During the lunch time, go and bring my lunch for me, kay? You won't eat unless I finish." He smirked, walking away.

The problem is… it's not fun anymore. At least… not how it was when you retaliated. Maybe he shouldn't have used the money thing and just teased you when you had the means to push it back. You just nodded and left.

During the lunch time, you did as directed. Bringing his plate to him in front of everyone… oh it satiated his silly little ego so much.

Though he wonders if you will snap… finally. If not, he can just push it. No? He extends his hand to Haibara who reluctantly gave his water bottle to Satoru.

Before you could process what happened, you were drenched. The white shirt now translucent, showing your bra. Everyone laughed, some of them were gawking at how the shirt does no justice to you, now that it sticks to your skin, you look much more delectable. "Oops, my hand slipped." He says again, though he knows he's pushed this one too hard. Today was only the second day. Besides, a vile feeling erupted beneath him when he felt others gawk at you. Look away. Look. THE FUCK. AWAY.

Rolling his eyes, he puts his blazer on you, "Here, go get changed.." He mumbled, your silence was not helping. Not fucking helping when you shivered at the coldness of your body, how you just… took it. You didn't even cry, this was to be expected from him anyways.

You nodded, walking towards the infirmary alone. "For fuck's sake…" Satoru snarled, whatever left of his inner conscience slapping him hard as he followed you to it. Making sure you change your clothes and gave you a juice.

You were silent again, taking it from him. "Got nothing to say?" He raises a brow, "I thought you were all big and mean…" He emphasized again.

"Nothing to say. I expected worse." You shrugged, walking away. You expected 'worse'? What kind of worse…

"What the fuck do you mean?" He holds your wrist, "You know, like beating me the fuck up or something." You looked at his eyes. Wow… you truly think of him as vile and disgusting don't you? Why does it pinch him so hard? He's done nothing but bother you and made you believe he is trash.

"Kay." He mumbles, walking away. He's the one bullying you and he's the one being bullied at the same time.

Satoru Gojo doesn't bother you for the rest of the week and the weekend after.

Monday… he asks you to hold his bag for him all the way to his home. Watches you cutely manage both yours and his bag when he could easily hold your bag and you…

You're panting softly when you reach the Gojo estate, cutting the call from your mother and texting her you'll be late. "Here's your bag." You gave it to him and he took it from you easy peasy. "Alright, well.." He can see the sweat beads on your forehead, the way you are twisting your shoulder for relief. Suguru has already stopped talking to him because of this behaviour. You look cute, even when you piss him off so bad.

"Go run home." Satoru scoffs and leaves. Maybe he should just shorten the duration from a month to 15 days… but then, would you become the rebel he liked you to be or would you just ignore him…. contemplation, contemplation… and lots of contemplation.

[mmmichyyy]

40? for the prompt

#40. "am i your husband or your taxi service?"

the first time it happens, mickey doesn't think much of it.

can you pick me up after my shift? too tired to take the L

when mickey is near the station, he parks the van a block away. force of habit from when he and his brothers used to sneak up and collect from people who owed terry money. plus, he doesn't particularly want ian's coworkers to see their stolen ambulance, even though it's completely unrecognizable after debbie helped them revamp the entire thing and paint over it with the logo sandy designed.

here

i don't see you

i'm parked a block away

pick me up at the station

your legs don't work?

i'm tired :(

i drove the van

it's fine no one will be able to tell lol

mickey rolls his eyes and drops his phone in the cupholder. as he pulls up across the street from the station, he sees ian standing on the curb, chatting with someone wearing a matching EMT uniform, a shorter man with tan skin and curly hair.

mickey honks once, a bit impatient since he's hungry as fuck and there's a large pizza he ordered earlier waiting for them at their apartment. ian lifts his head and smiles. as he waves goodbye to his coworker and jogs over to the van, mickey doesn't miss the way the dude is gaping at mickey with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

the hell is this guy's problem?

"everything okay?" mickey asks, once ian buckles his seatbelt and reclines his seat.

"just tired." ian yawns. "had a long shift today."

"well," mickey puts the van in drive, reaching over the center console to ruffle ian's hair, promptly forgetting ian's weird coworker, "i already ordered a pizza so we can eat then turn in early."

ian smiles sleepily and interlaces his fingers with mickey's. "you're the best husband ever."

mickey shakes his head, biting back a smile. "sappy fucker."

*

after almost two weeks of ian asking to be picked up, mickey suspects something is up. not that he minds or anything, since he makes his own schedule nowadays. after the security business started turning a profit and ian went back to being an emt, he hired a couple of guys to drive the routes so he could work from home and catch up on admin work, freeing up a lot of time in his day to day.

but ian never used to mind the commute. he's the kind of long-legged freak who liked to take the scenic route and go on long runs in the morning, just for fun. absolutely deranged behaviour, in mickey's opinion. but lately, ian has been flashing his kicked-puppy eyes and asking to be chauffeured like a pampered prince and, well. mickey could never resist spending more time with his husband, so he hasn't said anything. not yet, anyway. god he's so whipped.

the excuses ian came up with, however, were more unbelievable as it went on, ranging from the train broke down (mickey knew for a fact it didn't), to spraining his elbow (though he had no problem throwing mickey on the bed later that night with his supposedly injured arm), to how it was going to rain later (it was sunny all day without a cloud in sight).

when mickey tried to call him out on his bullshit, ian either got down on his knees or flipped mickey over and fucked him senseless into the bed, promptly making mickey forget what the hell he was trying to say.

it's gotten to the point where ian stopped making excuses and simply asked mickey to come get him. which truthfully, mickey doesn't mind at all. but he just finds it odd how his beefy athletic husband had gotten so lazy.

"what's with you?" mickey finally asks one day, as ian climbs into the passenger seat.

ian blinks innocently. "what do you mean, dear husband of mine?"

mickey rolls his eyes. "am i your husband or your fuckin' taxi driver? 'cause i've been picking your ass up every day for the past two weeks when you have two perfectly functioning legs."

ian huffs, crossing his arms. "maybe i just want to spend more time with you."

"we live together," mickey points out flatly, "how much more time do you need?"

"i–"

a tap on the glass interrupts them, and mickey turns to see a woman with brown hair tied back in a ponytail, enthusiastically gesturing at him to roll down the window.

"the fuck?" mickey turns to ian, whose face has turned slightly pink. "did you forget something at the station?"

"ah, no." ian scratches his head sheepishly. "sue is just being... sue."

sue waves her hand again and mickey reluctantly lowers the window.

"mickey, this is sue, my supervisor, and sue, this is–"

"the elusive husband." sue grins. "i've heard a lot about you, mickey."

mickey raises his brow. "have you now."

"oh sure," she says, ignoring ian's frantic head shaking, "ian won't shut up about you, yapping on and on about mickey this and mickey that. we're all jealous at the station actually, everyone just complains about their partners while ian keeps gushing about how perfect and amazing his husband is. his words."

"huh." that explains a lot, actually, why there was always someone different waiting with ian every time he came to pick him up, and why they all stared at him like a circus freak. "well, i bet ian didn't tell you the time we stole an ambu–"

"okay," ian cuts in loudly, reaching over to turn the key in the ignition, "we're leaving. i'll see you tomorrow, sue."

"come to the company picnic next month," sue calls out. "it's a potluck and everyone is bringing their family. it'll be fun!"

"uh sure," mickey says, even though a social gathering with ian's nosy coworkers sounds like the least fun thing he's ever heard of. he looks over at ian, slumped in his seat, avoiding mickey's eyes. "I'll check my schedule."

once mickey drives around the corner, he playfully flicks his finger at ian's temple and ian rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

"you yap about me to your coworkers," mickey teases. "you're so fuckin' whipped."

"whatever," ian grumbles. "stupid sue calling me out."

"is that why you keep asking me to pick you up?" mickey asks, amused. "to parade me around like a little show dog?"

"well, eduardo blabbed to everyone he saw you, then everyone kept asking about you and wanted to see you in person, so..."

"hm." mickey reaches over and brushes his thumb over ian's palm. "what do you say about me?"

ian links their fingers together and sighs. "that you're attentive. funny. caring. protective. loyal. the ideal man."

mickey laughs. "you're really overselling me here, gallagher. did you forget i'm an ex-convict, pimp and drug dealer?"

ian waves him off and continues. "kind. loving. perfect in every single way, except when you leave your socks on the floor. oh and that you're hot as hell with an ass that won't quit."

"you talked about my ass?"

"okay, i didn't say the last part," ian amends, "your ass belongs to just me. but i meant everything else i said."

"you really are a sappy fucker."

"you love it."

"i'd love it even more if i didn't have to be your chauffeur every day, at least they get paid to drive back and forth."

"you come with me to the picnic, i'll pay you with favours in bed. i'll even throw in a big tip."

"a big tip, huh..."

[veneerslipstick]

˚୨୧⋆yes, & i love you｡˚ ⋆— pt 2

velvet x FEM!reader

• one shot

• fluff

• light angst

after an overwhelming confession between your “situation-ship” with velvet, both of you take a break from being close. in the midst of your healing, velvet begins to come to a realization that — absolutely nothing is the same without you. frustrated and still deeply in love, in advance of deranged texts from a velvet that hates admitting her feelings, you as always attend a performance of hers that goes terribly wrong.

the girls heart seems to ease by your awaited attention — and yours seems to tense by the threat of trust. will she make up, or live by her same fears?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。. ・.

VELVETS POV.

four months.

it had been four months since the incident between

me and her. was i counting? i didn’t know, i just

knew. the time that passed was slow, very utterly

slow, and each performance that came and went

i mourned knowing that there would be no smiles or

mutual shrieks of excitement backstage. and really, i

genuinely tried not to think of it — to think of her. the

more i pondered about her , the further i felt guilt and

vomit creep up my throat , and it didn’t matter what i

was doing in the moment.

i couldn’t act this this. i shouldn’t blame this on

myself, guilt and uncertainty can’t be the first thing

on my mind or something anyone could read off my

face. pretending to not care is my best bet, only

seeing her as a stylist and maybe a planner would

keep my career safe and drama-free.

my hands wrapped around a cup of orange pekoe

tea, my heart seemed to twist to the pit of my

stomach.

oh, but how the thought of her voice and hands had

me in a trance. oh, how it hurt.

nails gritting on the mug, my fingertips burned and i

jerked them away, spilling a small amount of the hot

fluid on my white vanity. grimacing, i scurried to find

a cloth.

the door to the dressing room then opened, and

there stood y/n, watching as i was searching. i looked

to her for a moment , only a moment, because god

forbid any longer i would start saying shit i’m not

supposed to.

clipboard in hand, she walked over to the vanity and

pulled a tissue from her pocket, beginning to wipe up

the spilt tea that would’ve started to stain if left any

longer. i watched her as she didn’t say a word, just

cleaning with a straight face. oh, don’t stare, velvet.

don’t feel.

she threw the tissue in the garbage can and looked to

me. straightening my posture, i brushed my hair out

of my face. “thank you.” i mumbled, beginning to

take clips and bobby pins out of my hair. the tension

and every physical shift of our bodies was

unbearable, like we were made of rust trying not to

make any sound. it was gross and unnerving and a

lump formed in my throat. sitting at the vanity chair

once more, the routine began.

y/n took my hair apart, running her fingers gently

through the curls and dried gel. she took micellar

water to my face delicately with cotton pads i closed

my eyes as this proceeded, though every cell in my

body told me to open them and begin a

conversation. but that wasn’t right.

everything felt out of place. shit. why? why couldn’t

things be normal? why was this a big deal?

not even realizing my discomfort , i let out a

strangled sound in my throat which caused her to

stop and look at me in the mirror. “you alright?”

am i alright no i’m not alright god i just want to apologize and hold your hand and be okay and be with you and be girls god god help me i’m sorry don’t hate me do i talk too much oh oh could you sm —

“yes.” i blurted and stood up quickly , grabbing

everything and attempting to keep my composure. i

didn’t look at her twice before darting straight out of

the room and stumbling down the stairs. the tears

were hot and flowing , cursing to myself silently for

being so pathetic.

i was my own worst enemy.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・

YOUR (2ND) POV.

you were aggravated by velvets behaviour. was she

ignoring you or trying to get your attention? being

smart or clueless? definitely not clueless. she was

smarter than that. you hated how you couldn’t tell

with her sometimes. but that’s exactly what drew you

to her — you could never guess. but of course you

didn’t let yourself get too wound up, it had been

almost 5 months since then, and you were so close

to being completely over it. over her.

or, well, that’s what you were trying to get yourself to

believe.

you arrived home around midnight after the

performance, in every way exhausted. once through

your door and in the kitchen, you went to pour

yourself a glass of red wine. you didn’t drink, at all

really, the bottle had been a gift , but right now you

needed something. after a long swig, you stared out

the living room window for a moment. then your

phone buzzed. multiple times.

picking it up, the bright light making you squint in

the darkness of your kitchen, you seen velvets name.

your heart skipped a beat as desperate messages

popped up;

“i miss yiu y/n.”

“everythimg hurrs without you”

“i can’t llook at f/c wiyhout feeling sick”

“i don’t know i hate feekings”

“thid sucks”

“will you tajk to me i’m sorry”

“i wqs wtong please don’t hate me”

her typos seemed to pull at your heart strings, you

opened the messages to look at them, but put your

phone down. you poured another glass. honestly,

what did she want you to say? oh, it’s no problem vel,

it’s not like you tore my veins out and tied them in a

bow then proceeded to wish i was someone different

then steal my oxygen with a kiss. nope. not at all.

a few minutes passed, and your phone began to ring.

now slightly panicked, you saw velvets name and

contact photo pop up. it was a picture paparazzi had

taken of you two that floated around on the internet,

which was you two smiling and laughing at a public

park that — you remembered, — you had dragged

her to so she could connect with something other

than a camera and makeup. she hated the photo

because she was in her “disguise clothing”, but she

looked as pure as ever.

you shook the memory from your thoughts and

picked up the phone after letting it ring a little and

brought the phone to your ear. you said nothing, only

waiting for her.

“don’t. don’t do that.” you heard a broken voice at the

other end of the call. you paused before answering.

she was definitely crying.

“do what?” you asked monotonously.

“not… answering me. as my — stylist, you should

almost always answer wh —“

“cut the shit velvet.” you snapped but didn’t raise

your voice. you bit your lip and you heard her

whimper quietly.

“i’m really trying.” she whispers that seemed to dart

straight to your heart. “y-you know that i am. this

shit is just — ugh,” she was talking about her

feelings. you felt that same pain in your heart from all

those months ago.

“velvet,” you started, leaning against your fridge and

deeply breathing. “i don’t want to hear this over a

phone. what you did hurt, i don’t know what i can

and can’t believe.” you choked slightly at the end of

your sentence. she was silent, but you heard her

sniffle. your voice lowering right above a whisper,

“if you really want this velvet; say it to my face. look

me in my eye and tell me what you want.” you

asserted.

you heard nothing but distant shaky breathing for a

moment. “goodnight, y/n. we’ll talk tomorrow.” the

like clicked.

you stood there a little while, gazing in the distance.

maybe that was the closure you needed.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・

the next day…

and so the routine began again. getting ready in the

morning, drive to work, getting velvet and veneer

ready for todays performance… nothing new. and

shockingly, seeing velvet didn’t hurt as much as you

thought it would. you felt good about that. now

putting their makeup away , veneer and velvet were

talking.

“vel, are you sure you’ll be okay? you look exhausted.

maybe you should sit just this one out…” veneer said

cautiously.

“no, ven, im fine.” she claimed , lazily putting her

boots on.

“okay, but, you did tell me one time to always prevent

you from performing if you seemed unwell even if

you refused , so —“

“veneer can you just shut the fuck up? i - just - god

please. please.“ she growled , her voice softening

near the end of her sentence. both you and veneer

jumped slightly, and he looked shocked and

slightly hurt. he said nothing, and velvet got up and

left the room. you looked to him who continued to

linger his gaze out the door. he looked at you.

“can you figure something out with her? it sort of

feels like, i lost her.” he said in a concerned tone. you

said nothing, only slightly nodding to try and ease

his mind. sighing, he walked out the door as well. you

followed after a moment of pondering and headed

towards the entrance of the pit.

awaiting for the siblings near the left center crowd,

you started to wonder if velvet would actually be

okay during the performance. you obviously knew

why she was off, but there’s no way she would let

that affect her image. you hoped.

then it was showtime, and you watched as they

presented flawlessly as always. but there was

still something wrong with her. she wasn’t as

smiley and proud like she usually was in front of

her fans, she was smiling, but she almost looked sick.

you bit your lip and didn’t take your eyes off of that

stage. not even half way through the song, that

terrible fear commenced.

“shit.” you said out loud.

velvet seemed to lose balance as she followed the

choreography and her words mashed up. veneer

glanced at her with an obvious worried expression as

he tried to continue , but she was so off that it was

nearly impossible. she seemed to choke on her words

and she just completely stopped dancing, making

eye contact with you. the audience began to turn to

whispered and audible gasps. you could tell she

felt the eyes on her at how she looked around like

she commuted a crime, and before you knew it she

ran backstage. some people began yelling or booing,

veneer trying to speak through his mic to reassure

them that they just needed to take five.

you bolted to that backstage.

security guards and producers were gathered around

a certain spot, where you could make out velvet on

the ground , crying and yelling about something.

pushing through them, she spotted you through her

tears and swatted away people’s hands that tried to

help her.

“no, go, go ! “ she stood up taking in sharp, deep

breaths. looking to you, she tried to yell at the

security guards that wouldn’t lay off. “no! i want —

y/n, y/n take me .. home, i can’t —“

you were nearly instantly by her side, wrapping an

arm around her and taking her through the back exit

— at the same time yelling at producers to call off the

show. once you two were out, she had calmed down

a little as you let her lean against the wall. no words

were spoken as you removed your jacket and

wrapped it around her shoulders , and eventually led

her to your car. her in your passenger seat and you in

the drivers, you looked to her.

“was that about last night?” you asked, your voice

breaking the threatening silence. she looked down at

her lap. “that was about … everything.” she spoke

softly , almost too soft for you to hear. looking

forward, you started the car and left the premises.

the clock read 9:53 PM as you hit the highway.

“am i taking your way or the rest of the highway to

your house?” you asked. she looked to you.

“your place.” she answered. heart fluttering, you

glanced at her. “mine?”

“yeah. we should.. talk.”

and when you did arrive to your house, you both got

out of the car and headed inside, holding open the

door for her in silence. she kept your jacket on, and

you made your way to the kitchen, preparing her tea

that you bought specifically for her. out of nowhere,

you felt something on your shoulder blade and a

hand wrapped around your arm. velvet stood there

with you, more silence, as you made her tea.

quiet was important with her, you found. she was

very voluble and it was hard to have a gentle moment

with her, but recently you noticed she allowed

things to be silent. you didn’t complain.

you turned around to face her and she stepped back

from you, taking the tea you offered, but she just

put it on the counter. you didn’t care, all you cared

about was looking into her eyes. you began;

“what did you want to talk about?”

velvet gulped and shook her head. “y/n. honestly,

everything is so.. terrible. terrible without you. and

god i hate to admit that i’m struggling to live

without someone but it’s so true and — this is so

unfamiliar. it’s almost angering but it’s also sweet

but sickening and … and —“ she looked up at you

with wet eyes, her hands extended towards you.

“that kiss.. that kiss was real. and i know i said that

stupid idiotic comment that was very untrue because

i was scared and i was scared of our l-love but now

it’s…” she trailed off, looking to the side. “oh it’s just

so.. you’re so..” she looked back at you, hands

reverting back to near her chest. “it’s just..can

we..?” her head slowly nodding, you didn’t waste

another second to back her up against your counter

and kiss her firmly.

you took her hands that bundled near her heart and

brought them to your face, letting her ease her

palms on your red cheeks. your own hands

held her waist gently as your lips basically

locked on one another, a smooth rhythm comme-

ncing between you two. you felt her tears fall

and hit your cheeks again, and the connection

was reborn. this is what you needed — what she

needed. her hands traveled up to your hair as she

tangled them in it, yours pulling her closer to you.

smiling against her lips, she let out a quiet sob

inside her throat.

pulling away, you planted a few more kisses to her

jaw and neck, running your hands up her back.

her breathing steadied after a minute and you

both looked at each other.

“i don’t want to leave,” she whispered, her glossy

she’s peering up at you.

“don’t.” you replied, wiping her tears with your

thumb. “stay the night, let us love eachother. veneer

will understand.”

she nodded and smiled a smile you haven’t seen in

awhile; which automatically triggered another gentle

kiss. a brief moment passed and you broke it.

“we’re girls, and that’s okay.” you reminded her.

strands of her beautiful green locks stuck to her

wet face. velvet nodded and took your hands,

cupping them on her face.

“the hell was i thinking, i don’t want a man. who

wants a man?” she joked, having you both laugh.

“hm, your brother.” you responded and she snickered

loudly, dropping her head.

“god i love you, y/n.” she said , looking back up. your

stomach churned.

“and i love you, velvet.”

not another word was spoken as you both rested in

your bed, holding each other and sharing long,

intimate kisses as if trying to makeup for the time

you lost.

it was definitely worth the wait.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

a/n: AHH CHRISTMAS !!! merry chrysler and happy holidays to my beloved fellow mutuals 💋 i had fun writing this whilst listening to waiting room on repeat ..!!! anyway MWAH ily guys eat up

[johannestevans]

you know sometimes people bemoan about how historical gays used to have a lot more drama and a lot of the time there's this implication that the various interpersonal dramas and sexual tensions and feuds in various literary salons or artistic circles were a reason for or an engine for creation and i myself have absolutely fallen into that same trap of just being like, well, all these complex and fraught relationships must have driven something

but looking back in retrospect, having extricated myself from a developing cult situation borne of what was before a somewhat messy polycule, where genuinely not out of evil but out of simply being like... mentally and emotionally traumatised by past abusive patterns, several people were explicitly and openly denying the reality of certain abusive behaviours in favour of maintaining the status quo, or were outright rejecting things like "let's talk explicitly about our needs and our feelings" in favour of more psychosexual games that involved like. thinking sometimes that one or more people involved would outright try to kill them

i know that for some people there's a big draw in a certain derangement or nonconsensual masochistic cruelty to their intimate relationships, and that for some people, a response to trauma is to only really feel invested or engaged with relationships that feel to some extent dangerous, and that relationships that feel "safe" in fact paradoxically feel very threatening or overly demanding in their stability

and i'm not one of those people, turns out.

this whole situation really hasn't been pyschologically good for me, and what's more, it's not even been creatively good for me. so what the fuck was the point in all that

[butchmartyr]

I think my biggest issue with the post you made (where you screenshotted medusadyke's post) is like... if dozens or hundreds of gay men On This Website were talking openly about having pedophilic kidnapping fantasies, confessing to engaging with art depicting sexual abuse of minors, finding it erotic & jacking off to it, admitting they wish it could happen in real life, & then in addition to all of that ALSO claiming that those things are innately part of Gay Culture and that it's homophobic to criticize them for it, other gay men would be ABSOLUTELY CORRECT to criticize them for it & condemn the behaviour. That's what's going on with transfems on this website -- as a trans woman, I am seeing COUNTLESS trans women claiming that it's Innately Transfem to indulge your paraphilias (including paraphilias) and encourage them and wish you could act them out in real life, which I think is absolutely deranged and only serves to paint the transfem community at large with a negative brush. We're not just baselessly calling trans women pedophiles for no reason or because we have "internalized transmisogyny" or anything, we're critizing them for 1. engaging in pedophilic behaviour, and 2. conflating pedophilia with transfemininity and claiming it's transmisogynistic to condemn that behaviour. We're just going around doing spooky scary hands at random trans women and claiming they're pedos based on nothing. We're actually -- surprisingly -- specifically motivated by NOT thinking it's normal for trans women to be pedophiles and NOT wanting people to view us that way.

Nope! You have lost the plot. The way society at large sexualizes and sees us as demons is not because of the sparse existence of a few shitty trans women ““indulging their paraphilias””, whatever the hell thats supposed to mean, holy shit lol. And you have to be joking if you want to call this “criticism” when I’ve watched her mutuals move to making up pedo accusations about trans women completely baselessly out of thin air as something to tack into a callout post, this is a bad joke. There are not hundreds or even dozens of trans women genuinely saying this about transfemininity, you are falling face first into your biases that lead you and the rest of society to see innocent trans women as predators by reading the worst out of what one may have said and applying that worst-case reading to other members of her marginalized gender group for no reason aside from their shared gender, which is discrimination, even when you do it to trans women and even when they’re really extra bad ones we promise this time.

The drive to search for and excise this specter of an Actually Evil Tranny is something i watch get used monthly to do fun things like call random innocent women rapist scum or pedophiles for having consensual sex with their adult partner in a way someone else doesnt approve of, for making posts calling video games annoying, or for saying that lesbians who praise virulently transmisogynistic lesbian culture are probably shitty. You can say you’re doing “criticism” all you like, but all you are doing are confirming your own preconceived notions and taking it out on other trans women, and this will be obvious every time the transmisogynists equate consensual sex between trans women as sexually violent, harassing, or dangerous. And like again no one is seriously saying pedophilia is transfeminine, and if they did you’re kind of insane for assuming other trans women are just okay with and agree with that or have a naturally shitty moral fiber or something, you have just completely lost the plot, no one else is expected to constantly say they’re not pedophiles be so real with me lmao. At most a few people are being gross or posting kink you read into cruelly, and i know there’s a bunch edgily joking about it to get people like you to unfollow them and save them from watching more pedohysterics; which is something we call “maybe a little in bad taste”, a category of being annoying or shitty that isn’t equatable to actual fucking sexual abuse.

Also, “Paraphilias” are still an arbitrary and garbage way to try to understand and pathologize sexuality that basically just means weird, and resultingly being attracted to trans or fat people is placed in the same category as sexually abusing children, among other insane pathologic and arbitrary shit. You need to understand abuse is not about desire. You need to come to understand that the problem with sexual abuse is the abuse; pedophilia is not a problem of Dangerous Perverted Deviants corrupting the fucking youth and spreading mind poison (again, you have fallen for reactionary sex politics hook line and sinker here), CSA is normalized as fuck in our society and happens most frequently as a symptom of power to hold over someone and to enforce norms. Failing to understand this and (reactionarily!) focusing on the construction of the Deviant Pedophile instead only makes it easier for ‘normal’ people in positions of normalcy and power to abuse that power. You’re lost! Please think critically and honestly for a while.

[musashi]

just watched your latest youtube video (the one on the aai collection) and i want to thank you for not assuming malice from the actions of the ace attorney wiki admin who refuses to let the relation between franziska and miles be listed as "siblings". I've seen so many people see that and jump to the worst possible conclusion that "this must be because they ship miles and franziska" and not the much more reasonable conclusion that theyre just sort of anal about the nuance of their relationship and what's explicitly canon

i... that is deranged. that is the most wild conclusion to jump to that i can think of.

the aa fandom's violent allergy to actually engaging with the text is... unlike everything i have ever seen. i used to understand being unhappy with canon, wanting to rewrite/fix/add to it, all the memes about "lol i made it better" "canon will be lovingly baked at 400 degrees until it is properly browned" etc but the aa fandom has turned me into an absolute canon-worshipper with how much they just... do not care to acknowledge canon at all, and get WEIRD when you are a person who does.

i don't understand why they get so uppity at the siblings thing. there are a million different ways you can interpret whatever they have going on, but all we know is:

miles studied under manfred von karma

franziska, who also studied under him, affectionately refers to miles as her little brother.

like that's literally it... that's all we have. we don't know if miles lived with them. we don't know if miles considers franziska to be his sister. he never calls her that, and often jumps through hoops to avoid calling her that. why is that? is it that he doesn't see her that way? that he believes his fondness for her is too deep, special, and nuanced to delegate to something simple like 'sister'? is he just being emotionally constipated, a thing we know he is often? meditate on it! why do people just lie, instead? why don't people want to have fun and analyze the relationship?

i don't think it is even "anal" to run the wiki that way. a fandom wiki, like a regular wiki, is supposed to be full of strictly canon information, not conjecture and fanon. if you want conjecture, then get on ao3 or open your word process and make some. but a wiki is meant to provide documented, sourced information, and you cannot say that miles edgeworth considers franziska his sister when he patently says nothing on the matter in canon.

turning that into "its because op ships them" is the most deluded form of thinking i can imagine, and it's so transparent--they're insecure about their headcanons or mad that they were misled by fanon, do not like concrete proof that they were misled, and so they try to paint an innocent person as secretly some sort of deviant or problematic to cast that shame elsewhere. typical 15 year old catholic twitter user behaviour, you meet one you meet em all.

even if they did ship mitsumei, like... who cares, genuinely. they're lines. they're made up. but that's not what's happening here, it's literally just a wiki runner who is running a wiki correctly, and the aa fandom historically HATES canon and facts so they're losing their shit.

one of the youtube videos i have on the backburner is "aa fandom misconceptions" where i'm just going to debunk a thousand of these stupid fucking things one by one. the more time passes the more anxious i get wanting to make it. maybe it's just me being a rules-obsessed autistic, but i cannot stand when people just lie about canon.

[saintsenara]

thank you very much for the ask, anon! it turned out that questions 1 and 2 sent me a bit feral, so they're queued up in a separate post... allowing this one to focus on the unhinged and deranged potential of ronius.

which - i'll be honest - is not quite as unhinged and deranged as one might think...

although my answer about it as a pure crackship would be influenced by a headcanon i remain committed to purely for my own amusement that harry is the only person who believes sirius to be unfathomably good-looking pre-azkaban [the girl in the defence against the dark arts exam was actually checking out lily! harry saw what he wanted to see!] and still retaining vestiges of these magnificent looks after it.

i like the idea of ron - canonically a real hottie himself - not being entirely sure what all the fuss is about, not least because sirius hasn't seen a dentist in fifteen years. harry's sighing every night about how lucky ron is while everyone else pats sirius on the back for bagging himself a tall and sporty legend with great hair, a chill personality, and a fourteen-inch wand.

but my more serious response to this ship would be that it joins the pile - with snon and ronmort - which are made plausible by the fact that ron is, at heart, someone who cares.

in goblet of fire, harry, ron, and hermione all have broadly similar views of sirius - that he's a clever, sensible adult who can be trusted to help them with the mystery they find themselves in. ron is reassured that harry tells sirius about his scar hurting, for example, because he thinks it's a given that sirius will know what to do about it - and he believes that any information sirius gives harry throughout this book is completely above reproach.

ron also clearly thinks that sirius is cool - him trying to get sirius to agree with him that hermione's passion for house elf rights is ridiculous very much has the vibe of him wanting sirius to acknowledge him as a sophisticated man-of-the-world; which him being pissed-off when sirius suggests the trio are too young to understand what things were like in the first war also illustrates.

[which i think sirius respects him for - he obviously admires a bit of bolshiness, and he also obviously adores the loyalty ron and hermione have for harry.]

and so i think that you can absolutely imagine ron developing a little crush on sirius - to go with his broader bisexual awakening over viktor krum - during his fourth year.

more interestingly, though, is that the trio's view of sirius diverges in order of the phoenix.

in harry's case, there is a reversal of the reasonably uncomplicated parent-child dynamic of goblet of fire, as sirius' depression - as well as the regression he feels from being stuck in his childhood home - robs him of the capacity to provide harry with the paternal emotional support he needs. instead, harry ends up being the one taking the adult role in their relationship - viewing it as his responsibility to be the sensible one in order to keep sirius safe.

hermione notices this role-reversal, but her view is broadly that sirius would be able to restrain his emotional instability if he simply tried hard enough. she's the one of the three who thinks that sirius' grimmauld-place-induced regression is accompanied by a desire to relive his glory days with harry standing in for james - and while both she and harry find sirius' more reckless behaviour [such as his suggestion that he might come to hogsmeade to see them] frightening, hermione evidently regards it as reckless arrogance, while harry sees it as reckless desperation.

ron - on the other hand - approaches order-era sirius not from the adult position in an adult-child dynamic, but as a peer.

he's the member of the trio who best understands the impact feeling useless to the war effort, lonely, and trapped has on sirius, without adding the qualification that he should be an adult and deal with it [which has the negative result that he's easily convinced that harry's vision of sirius in the department of mysteries is real, because he thinks it's completely plausible that sirius would have left the house and been captured].

he has no time for the idea that sirius views harry as indistinguishable from james, or that sirius is deliberately or childishly reckless. he's the only one of the three to give sirius the credit of listening to dumbledore and working to keep himself and harry safe - even if he doesn't like what he has to endure in order to do this. he treats sirius as someone who deserves to not be condescended to and to be acknowledged as having authority in his own house - for example, when he tells hermione that she needs to respect sirius' justification for why kreacher can't be manumitted when he thinks she intends to give him clothes for christmas [that hermione is completely right that slaves should be freed is by-the-by here].

he also understands harry's grief over sirius' death - and what sirius meant to harry - far more instinctively than hermione. but he's also the only one of the trio who really gets how sirius was understood by the order more widely - for example, he's the only one of the three who correctly points out that tonks didn't actually know sirius well enough for the intensity of grief harry and hermione are ascribing to her to be plausible. while harry - completely understandably - sees sirius as so important in his own life that he can't help but imagine him as the central figure in the life of everyone he encounters [which is unrelatedly interesting in that it's how each of the three marauders saw james], ron has a more pragmatic, big-picture view of him as a man. a good man - absolutely - and a fun and clever and admirable one, but still a man like any other.

ron understanding sirius - but not idolising him - creates a pretty strong potential for a relationship between them in a world in which sirius survives into the trio's adulthoods. this is especially the case when this understanding is combined with the fact that ron is shown - throughout the series - to be very good at providing comfort.

sirius survives azkaban and his time on the run through sheer, desperate resilience - but, as his collapse when he's back at grimmauld place shows, this resilience can't keep his demons at bay when he's not just fighting, at the most basic level, to stay alive.

if he survives the war, then he - like his narrative mirror, snape - is going to find himself feeling terrified and unmoored and completely unsure about who he is and what he'll do in a world in which voldemort is dead - and i suspect that his self-destruction would be extraordinary.

ron - alone of the trio - has the capacity to understand how sirius would end up in a place where "all was well" is more frightening to him than the potential of dying any minute. and he also has the capacity to provide an anchoring force through cups of tea and chit-chat which makes sirius think it might be possible to survive the day... and then the week... and then the month - which can then transition into him having the capacity to understand the big questions of guilt and grief and love and loyalty which define sirius' adult life.

so yes. i back it entirely.

[prototypelq]

dante and lucia for the ship bingo!

Thank you, for the ask, dear mutual)

(sounds stupid but do we call them dancia?)

Like, If we were given just a tiny bit more interactions between them, besides the dmc2 plot, I would go salivating-rabies-deranged about them. I think they would be the nicest, softest ship of this fandom, right there with NeroKiri or Sparda x Eva)

(I can confidently bet that a sweet girl like Lucia would make Dante go all 'shining knight' on her, because he is very much a gentleman like that, I am Weak for this okay)

And I am, very much soft for the softness like that)

I think they would, just, look together very good? Not the strongest arguement for a ship, but seriously, their designs just look super Neat together, you know? Also the story parallels between the two as very interesting - demon raised as human and indistinguishable from one, and a hybrid, who has very much more than just human behaviours and tendency, but both ultimately doubting their good nature and humanity. I think they could strive for good nature and values together, it would be an easier metaphorical journey with a partner, and it's kind of a 'the moment they met each other they found what they're looking for, they just don't realise it yet' trope for them.

That said, I think I prefer them in a separate Non-Canon space. I definitely want More material for them, but away from canon.

Like, the mention that Lucia sent Dante mail in, I think it was the dmc5 novel, brought me to the edge of madness over these two. I gaze into that abyss, I see so much potential there, but at the same time, let's be honest, it's out there on its own. Not like this ship would devalue the core family themes of the series, but it just... doesn't have any good space to fit it in.

95% of the series Dante is Depressed As Hell, and the demons that torment him just wouldn't let much of anything happen, nor will they go away untill dmc5 ending. There just really isn't a good time or place to develop a strong relationship for him, though the open-ending of dmc5 could present some opportunities after that plotline's done, and the idiots presumably have their 'happily ever after'.

As for Lucia, I just wish we got more of her. She is so neat, I love her quite strongly for no real reason xD The most I can wish for canon Lucia is for Dante to just... be decent with her, to talk like normal people and to apologise for ignoring her all those years, I think she deserves that, cause the way things ended between them in the dmc2 just wasn't good. They could absolutely be friends in canon tho, I'd really wish that for them.

(...what if they make up and then start developing feelings through mailing each other...what did I say about being weak for them. anyway, if there is any shipping to be made with those it, it can come Only after the Sparda Family Issues TM are mostly dealt with, which is uh, a big milestone to clear, so again, this is hard to implement in canon. I do think it would have the most healing effect post dmc5 tho)

TLDR I just think they are So Neat, and I want MORE of them, but it's best be in fanon territory

[blorbocedes]

wow, the alex video you posted IS so deranged and yet valid. i for one would love to hear any further thoughts about galex cannibalism you may have??

this is so deranged...... anyways what if galex were stuck on an island 🤪😳🏝 (based off this video)

Turns out being stranded on a deserted island is really anticlimactic. Incredibly boring, and more of a waiting game, once the adrenaline, relief, and panic at being alive wears off.

"We're the most tracked people on Earth. Once the teams figure out what happened, they'll send those large helis. We'll be out of here in no time. Probably in time to catch the next race too." George paces around, as if delegating his own rescue operation. Saying it out loud affirms it, it's going to happen, and therefore all George needs is to be cool and collected. His phone hadn't survived the waves, but he's sure it had sent his last known location somewhere near the waters. That's why they allow themselves to be tracked by technoautocrats all time, right? George isn't even worrying.

Alex is sitting down on the sand, with his small collection of rocks he's gathered and halfheartedly rubbing them together. You need a fireplace for that, George think irritated. Or like, a collection of sticks in a circle. He doesn't know, he's an F1 driver for fuck's sake.

Alex snorts, "Reckon they'll save the biggest helis for Lewis? Realise he's safe and sound in LA and bring out the backup single seater ones for George Russell?"

"Piss off. I suppose they'd find us faster if I was stuck with Max but you don't see me saying that." George snipes back. Admittedly, they're not on their best behaviour. Something about waking up concussed and realizing you're on a deserted island with the sun blazing down on you, and no fresh water or belongings nearby has a way of doing that to people.

"Ouch." Alex sounded mock-offended. He made a smiley face with his rocks.

"Shouldn't be long now." George bluffs with absolutely no way of knowing, only he needs to believe it. The waves dip into the beach, treacherously soothing. All that water, and nothing to drink. George imagines heroically catching a fish. He's not quite sure how to go about that, but Alex would for sure be impressed.

"We've got to think more long term, George."

"What do you mean?"

Alex levels him with a look. "Look around us. We're the only living things around for god knows how long. You've got to start thinking survival of the fittest."

George heroically catching fish. Alex in those lionskin dress the wives wore in the flinstones, cooking it over a fire. They Blue Lagoon it for years. Having to hold each other for warmth by the fire as they sleep to crackling hum.

"Yeah?" George asks, mouth going dry and not from the lack of water.

"There's only so much of each other we can take. You've gotta do what it takes to survive. That's what they don't tell you about deserted islands, the rules don't apply here. We can do anything here, and get away with it. And from what I can see, we're the only food source around. Anyone ever tell you you've got the neck of a gazelle?"

"You wanna eat me, Albon?" Dies down in George's throat, can't make it sound casual enough, like a joke. Not with the way Alex is staring at him, dark eyes, like he's something particularly delicious. We can do anything here, and get away with. The rules don't apply here. The giant helicopters with their flashlights could find them fucking them on the beach, and it wouldn't matter. Except they'd probably have cameras, to film the whole rescue operation and then yes, it does matter. Everything they do here matters.

"I'm not eating you. You're all bones and stuff, no thanks." George huffs, the dehydration truly settling in as his face gets redder.

"You don't want a little Thai food out here?" Alex laughs, reaching from where he's sitting and pulling at George's ankle who trips and falls on his ass on the hard sand.

Alex is flirting with me. Or he wants to eat me. George is not sure which is worse.

"Say a hyena gets me, you've gonna let a stupid bird have at me? Not even honour my body?" Alex still has his hand on George's ankle, the grip of it unrelenting. George's heart thuds in his chest.

"There's no hyenas around." He argues with reasonable confidence, despite not knowing.

"I wouldn't let a bird do that to you. I'd think, my friend George would've wanted me to survive." Alex moves closer, until he's halfway on top of George. His hand moves to the soft flesh of George's thigh sticking out from his shorts, and circles it. It's a little on the nose to feel like a prey trapped under a predator, imagining Alex kissing the soft of thigh before biting down on it, blood around the jut of that handsome mouth. One way or another, they'd both leave this island together. Within one another. It would be so, so easy to press Alex's head down here. Between his legs. Crush him with his thighs. "Whatever it takes."

"Fuck, fine. If a fucking hyena gets you, l'll shoo it away and eat you. Happy?" George pushes Alex off him, getting up, who grins up lazily from where he's fallen on the sand.

Heart still beating in his chest like a wild rabbit, George runs into the clearing of a few trees -- not wanting to venture further from where Alex won't be able to hear him if he calls for help. Their first mode of action had been making a SOS that could be seen from above, from the search helicopters, with the biggest rocks they could find. Turns out their strength at driving race cars had absolutely no use in lugging large rocks and they'd given up after the first C of the S. Finding large rocks makes George feel like he's doing something productive, actually aiding their rescue.

But Alex's words swim into his head. Survival of the fittest. Almost paranoid that Alex is watching, even though he's still lying on the beach, George stares into the clearing of trees ahead. There could be signs of life inside and he really doesn't want to find out, or be unarmed if there is. He just has to wait it to out. The rescue planes are coming. Entire jets. The whole country is on red alert. They're going to shake hands with the King.

Delirious in the heat, and the amount of blood that's rushed south, the shine of his wrist catches the sun. His sponsor gold Tag Heuer watch. A few hundred thousand quid. He takes it off, checking it's weight, and then places it on the ground. Takes the rock he'd found, and smashes it, collecting the now broken watch, and shards of glass in his pocket.

He makes his way back to Alex.

"What happened to your nice watch, Georgie?" Alex asks casually, frizzy air dried blond hair sticking up. Still looks great, like this. Tanned skin, blonde hair, pants rolled up as shorts. They could be on a beach vacation. George thumbs the watch in his closed fist, along the sharp ridges of where it broke.

"You got something in your pants or are you just happy to see me, Alexander?" George asks, staring at the rock sized bulge in Alex's left pocket.

"Always happy to see you." Alex smiles, and George mentally maps where his jugular should be as he takes a step towards him.

[themostloneliestday]

⏾ 25, she/her

˙⋆✮ height: 174cm / 5'8

˙⋆✮ cw: 77kg 75kg / 165lbs

˙⋆✮ gw1: 70kg / 154lbs

˙⋆✮ ugw: 45kg / 99lbs

⋅ ˚ ‧ ₊ ⋅

⏾ DNI

˙⋆✮ ageless blogs/minors (please don’t ruin your body before it even has the time to develop)

˙⋆✮ people making so called fatspo posts, so comparing fat/thin people + insulting them, i will unfollow if i see that shit (absolutely deranged behaviour btw, stay tf away from me);

⋅ ₊ ‧ ˚ ⋅

⏾ General

˙⋆✮ if i followed you and you’re uncomfortable with my blog, you can just tell me to unfollow you (or block me), obviously i’ll understand, I don’t want to trigger anyone (i use tw ed tags on all posts for that reason too).

˙⋆✮ this blog is just for me to voice my thoughts so i don’t go insane and a lot of you are really fucking rude, i don‘t need that type of negativity, i got my own mental issues to deal with so don’t make your shitty personality my problem.

˙⋆✮ i occasionally have nsfw stuff (can have darker themes too btw) in likes, another reason i don‘t want minors here. I just want anyone coming on my blog to be aware of it so they can avoid it bc i don‘t hide them, it’s like my second little blog for my special things:) <3

˙⋆✮ i mostly don’t mind DMs but i’m really not the best mental support if it isn’t already obvious.

˙⋆✮ btw i don’t give a shit if you report my blog, it’s not that hard to create another one, so do your worst if you must. 

 ⋅ ˚ ‧ ₊ ⋅

⏾ Tags:

˙⋆✮ helpful posts by other creators: #ivory.reblogs🤍🫧

˙⋆✮ posts by me: #ivory.posts🤍🫧 #vision board #vision board series: body parts

⋅ ˚₊‧ ⏾ ‧₊˚ ⋅

you get a big fat kiss if you interact with this in any way so i know you read it and are aware of it <3

⋅ ˚₊‧ ⏾ ‧₊˚ ⋅

[aballadforbarbatos]

i sent a whole Thing to my friends a month ago and thought it would be a good idea to post it here, so:

mc, the anti-monarchist

diavolo is pretty confident that you’ll say yes when he asks you out. he IS, like, the most powerful demon in the devildom

(technically there’s his dad too but he’s not around rn so he doesn’t count)

the brothers get to spend more time around you BUT you always spend so much time with him so you SHOULD say yes right?!

not even barbatos could predict your answer

you look him dead in the eye. and say. “sorry diavolo, but i’d rather die than date a royal”

you like him as a person sure, but it’s not like you on your own can’t topple a demon monarchy so the only thing you can really do is refrain from joining it

diavolo’s face DROPS. all that confidence from before? GONE. you are staring into the face of a heartbroken man

your heartstrings are tugged but there will be other men and your beliefs are stronger than a cute prince

“why???” perhaps if he finds out the reason he can change your mind!

“well the human monarchies are just. they are just so bad. you know the english colonised so many countries they have enough to a mini olympics? and all that gold and jewels… i struggle to believe you got ALL of that from devildom…”

doesn’t really know what the olympics are but it sure doesn’t sound great in the way you’re using it

belphie is ruthlessly clapping you on the back, one of the seven sins should be selfishness the way he’s acting

lucifer scolds belphie for his behaviour but the damage is done,

diavolo’s only answer is “oh… okay… so no monarch bf for you then…” and it looks like everything settles afterwards

barbatos feels terrible for the prince but at the same time perhaps the man will get some work done. PLEASE get some work done the country needs it-

he’s relieved for exactly one day before diavolo summons him in and goes “what if i give up my title yes or no”

sorry, what. you’ve come up with some stupid ideas before but this is ABSOLUTELY the worst

“i was doing some research and there was this harry guy who gave up his title for his lover! that could be me!” diavolo shows him an article and it takes barbatos exactly five seconds to come up with a rebuttal

“the harry man had an older brother.”

“oh yea i guess i should wake up dad so he can make another heir huh”

all this stress is going to kill him. this is EASILY the worst thing he’s ever experienced

“i could wait for him to wake up on his own but like, what if mc is DEAD by then?!?? what if one of the brothers has taken her?? idk if i wanna risk that…”

barbatos needs to shut this idea down RIGHT NOW

“my lord, what the fuck are you talking about.”

“it’s a good idea!!”

“NO IT IS NOT WHAT THE HELL HAS MC DONE TO YOU. YOU HAVE A RESPONSIBILITY TO THIS DEVILDOM.”

“not if i give up my title i don’t! :D”

barbatos has no choice. he is dragging both lucifer AND you to talk some sense into the guy. nothing he’s saying is working clearly, lucifer is horrified at the suggestion and you’re thinking of ways to secretly escape the room

“DIAVOLO THIS COUNTRY WILL FAIL IF YOU DO THAT.”

diavolo wrinkles up his nose and everyone is concerned he’s had one too many bottles of demonus because he leans in and whispers “but have you considered: i love mc”

the whisper is not very quiet, actually it’s more of a stage whisper and you’re kind of standing there awkwardly. like you expected him to love you but taking this stance is kind of deranged and not improving your view of royalty at all

now everyone is staring at you and expecting you to say something. you have no idea what to say that could possibly be different to what the other two have said??

“diavolo. man. what the fuck are you talking about. have you been overworked or something go get some rest,”

a very confident (who’s apparently in a silly goofy mood) demon prince answers with “i am deeply in love with you and am sad that you will not be mine, but as long as i am not a royal it’s not a problem right??”

you’re speechless. like what is there to say to that. perhaps some time with simeon (and a lot of sleep) would shake him out of this but none of your thoughts are really working right now,

“yeah sorry guys you’re on your own with this one”

barbatos has decided that crucification should not just be for blasphemers but for you too

[kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay]

The Little Lamb and the Silver Fox 🐑

Summary: Pepper Potts knows who you are and she made herself known in a most unconventional way. In her defense, she just had to have you.

Pairing: Pepper Potts x Reader

(No use of descriptive words for Reader's appearance. If you do stumble across one, please let me know and I'll immediately find a more inclusive alternative)

Warnings: 18+, allusions to kidnapping and abuse, non-con touching and restraints, forced captivity, obsessive behaviour, condescending talk

Word count: 480

Author's note: Entry number three, here we go! This one is a little shorter than the other two, but I was feeling needy for some silver fox!Pepper, because she's swoonworthy with all her competence and confidence *dreamy sigh*

Anyhow, @the-slumberparty this time I only used a single square, which was "Age-gap". I kind of wanted to make it soft, but it turned out a little sinister, whoops. Enjoy this little snippet and feel free to imagine whatelse happened between Pepper and Reader ;D

...

Her hand strokes your arm, fingertips gently caressing the skin, goosebumps rising in the wake of her soothing motion.

“It's all gonna be okay,” the woman cooed lovingly, “I've got you, little girl.”

You shudder, the cool air of the room and soft touch of the woman eliciting a bone deep quiver.

“You were doing so good, it was just a matter of time until you slipped up. I've been expecting it for a while now,” she hums lowly, bending her head to press a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

She shifts her arm lower so it curls around your side and pulls you closer until you're tucked firmly under her arm, her thigh pressed against yours as you sit on the plush couch.

The velvety fabric of the couch is soft against your bare skin, but it's little consolation at the moment.

You raise your watery gaze to stare up at the woman keeping you carefully tucked in her firm hold.

Her sky blue eyes look down her long, aristocratic nose at you, scrutinising you while her painted lips curve into a small smile. Little wrinkles form along her mouth and eyes at the motion and when she reaches up to brush an errand strand of hair out of her face, your focus is drawn to the silvery strands glinting between the soft strawberry blonde of the rest of her hair.

Pepper Potts, Tony Starks associate and business partner. You'd seen her on posters and in the newspaper, a few photos online here and there and knew about her career she's built for herself.

What you didn't know, was that she knew you too.

At least not until one day you woke up “In her care”, as she likes to put it.

Pepper Potts, yes... That's not what she wants you to call her though.

“So beautiful when you cry,” the woman sighs, cupping your face and rubbing her thumb through your tears streaking down your stinging cheek.

The digit catches on the strap of the ball gag strapped to your face and she gently slips it underneath the strap, pushing against it with a satisfied smile.

She chuckles lowly when you let out a pathetic murmur, your chest trembling as you beg her to let you go, to release you from the gag and the tight binds immobilising your limbs, decorating your body like pretty ribbons do a present.

“Hush, little lamb. You've brought this upon yourself. But don't worry, I'll still take care of you,” she says in a deceivingly loving tone.

More tears blur your vision, muddling up her face that still looks down on you with that unnerving and unwavering smile.

“You just need some time to turn into my perfect little girl,” Pepper promises and pats your head like one would an unruly puppy. “You'll soon find I'm really patient.”

...

Honestly, I kind of want to make a whole ass series out of this because dark!silverfox!Pepper who kidnaps and wants to take care of me is actually pretty fucking hot ahahaha (I know I'm deranged, hush).

Alas, I won't because I have absolutely zero capacity for a series rn, but a girl can dream!

[liverobinreaction]

Do you have any fic recs that encapsulate the sheer unhinged-ness of Tim? I just want fics where Tim is his most authentic gremlin self.

Thanks!

I most certainly do!!! I put a few in this ask here, but I’ve also created a fic collection on ao3 where I collect stories where Tim is just. Absolutely unhinged. If you want specific recommendations, then I’ll give you my top five!

Gotta Roll With The Curveballs by Just_A_Poor_Boy - I know I’ve rec’d this before, but I cannot understate just how unhinged Tim is in this fic. It’s from Duke’s perspective who just. Gets to know the true extent of Tim’s insanity. It’s incredible. It’s hilarious. Go read it immediately.

Having A Me Party by JpegDotJpeg - Less funny and more angsty, but Tim is still unhinged here. As a birthday tradition, he consumes a small amount of drugs if no-one remembers his birthday. It is so fucking extra and heartwrenching of him. It is also absolutely deranged behaviour.

The Moon Will Sing A Song For Me (I love you like the sun) by Ick_arus (@batposts here on tumblr) - Introducing a baby Tim who blackmails Dick into adopting him. Like. Do I have to say anything else. He’s a little gremlin child and way too smart for his own good, which results in him just saying the most insane shit ever. I love it.

Home Alone: Christmas At Titans Tower by Miss_Lazy_Tuesday - Another feral baby!Tim fic where he gets deaged just before Jason attacks. Cue Home Alone style traps and shenanigans. It’s so funny and really cute at the end!

And finally:

The blackbird singing in the dead of night series by britishparty - This is a deliciously dark series where it tackles the what if question of Tim catching the attention of Black Mask while he was following the Bats. Cue a decade of trauma, ruthless behaviour, and Tim being a mad genius. If you’re interested in a borderline anti-hero, if not villain Tim, then this is an excellent fic for you to read.

I hope you enjoy these rec’s, and make sure to give the authors some love!!!

[sparrowmoth]

For the cursed asks! 2, 11, 14, 17? (or whichever you feel like answering lol)

@arobear Thank youuu, my dear! 💖

2. Do you write porn from the perspective of the character you want to be, or the one you want to bang?

Honestly, neither. I project issues onto characters, but I don't self-insert like that (no shame to those who do, it's just not my jam). I choose my POV for sex scenes based on what kind of atmosphere I want to create, what issues I want to explore, and ultimately whose headspace is going to be the best vehicle for that.

If I want to explore a character's body image issues, for example, I'll probably choose their perspective to write from so that their inner thoughts come through even when they're not speaking. But if I wanted to write it more like "this character doesn't even realize how beautiful they are," then I might choose their partner's perspective to contrast any negative self-talk or insecure behaviours with their partner's adoring inner monologue persisting even beyond anything they say, you know? The latter simply strikes a different tone. <3

11. Have you ever tested the logistics of a sex scene you're writing in real life, and did the other person(s) know it was for fanfic?

Haha, noooo. I've never had anyone I could do that with, personally. Would I? Sure, maybe. But I'd probably approach it so scientifically, we'd both just end up laughing about it. Like, "okay, hold that pose, I need to take notes and make a quick sketch for reference" lol.

14. What's your favourite way to emotionally destroy your favourite character?

Ahaha, let me count the ways... there are so many to choose from. I think my general favourite is verbal abuse. I love to dissect abusive relationships, especially between parents and children, in horrible, soul-crushing detail. Not to leave them suffering, but just because the eventual love, comfort, and acceptance from their found family hits so much harder for me when I've walked them through hell first.

17. If you could steal one fic from any other writer and claim it as your own, what would you take?

djakgjkdg that compliment would have to go to the absolutely amazing, wonderfully written emotional rollercoaster that is the Wesper Cinderella AU, To Live in Color by @sixofcrowdaydreams

Anyone who hasn't read it yet, please go check it out! You won't regret it. It's had me on the edge of my seat since the very start.

cursed and deranged fanfic writer q&a

[dogwittaablog]

I was never a nolpat fan (didn't hate him, he just wasn't one of the guys I was fannish about), and even I was... not devastated, but still felt something of a gut-punch when I read about what he said in these accounts. And it's not because I have some rosy view of hockey - I grew up around it, unfortunately I know all too well how toxic it can be. I try to go into fandom with the expectation that any player (including/especially the ones I admire) can do any of the myriad terrible things that are so common in this sport's culture, fall in step with the also terrible political views of the majority, would generally be a person I would not want to talk to irl. The gut-punch part for me I think comes from 1) plain old sadness/disappointment/horror at the reminder of how awful human beings can be, just, in general, because yes of course I know these people exist and see evidence of it all too often, and even if this was some rando on the internet those comments would be upsetting; and 2) that these comments hit me right in my sense of unfairness, that so much opportunity and privilege was given to someone so terrible. (Of course privilege isn't distributed based on goodness, but it's always infuriating to see shitty people get good things/no comeuppance for being shitty; sure, cosmic justice isn't a thing, but we sure wish it were.)

As many others have said, I do think it's important to understand the reality of this sport's culture and its myriad issues, and take steps back to make sure you're keeping that fiction/reality divide clear in your head, but as you pointed out, some people are new or have less experience with the realities of hockey for whatever reason, and even if they are, people will be upset by news of someone being a piece of shit because someone being a piece of shit is generally upsetting. I don't think it's productive to tear people down for simply not knowing how bad it was. Dismay and the misguided belief that someone being good-looking and talented and quiet correlates to their quality as a person aside, I have yet to see anybody digging in their heels and bending over backwards to defend him (like other anon(s) pointed out, the Kane fandom meltdown was... scarring, to say the least, and I have absolutely no patience for that, that is block on sight for me.) We're all in this fandom community together, do try to give people some grace to be upset, and maybe don't call them deranged or in need of professional help so readily.

(Which is to say, I agree with your stance!)

A little bit of a long read for some, but you broke down even more points and articulated parts I wish I could've come up with in some of my other anon responses.

I'm sure you're specifically talking about P.Kane (There is so many genuine problematic fucks in the league with the last name Kane, ironically). Though don't even get me started on that because I remember hearing stories about P.Kane through my brother even when I was 12 and seeing media gradually expose his problematic behaviours as well over time too. I am truly convinced anyone who's a fan of his new or old, just obsess over how hot he was in his early 20's and that's all they see when they think or hear of him, cause bro my man went downhill after a point, so it's like what are you even liking about this dude, cause I know it's not even about how he plays hockey LMAO... He literally has an open track record that with a 10 second search you can find everything problematic he's done the past decade, heck you even got grown men even saying fuck that dude too. His fangirls are definitely what I'd consider concerning.