#and she comes across some dark ass content that traumatized her

[saetoru]

no bc she was being such a dickhead about this whole situation. before the vid was deleted in the comments she was clowning on adults for reading fanfic and saying they should “get a job and pay taxes” but it’s like without adults writing great fics she would only have shitty wattpad fics written by some 14 yo in their intro to algebra class to read🧐

i hope karma gets her back real good bc she fr was being such an asshole about it l m a o

[sukirichi]

Breakfast for Choso with ingredients #17 and 34 with #2 sugar? Wine is optional.

EASY 

— Nothing is ever easy with Choso, but for him, you’d push through hell and back.

meal order: breakfast + 17, 34 (fake dating, rentboy au) + 2 (enemies to lovers) + biting, scratching, choso eating reader out, sex on the beach

warnings: mature content, unedited fic, choso is mean and harsh when he’s angry

notes: thank you so much for this anon! I really enjoyed writing this and this totally made my day. I hope you like it!

word count: 10k+ LOL CHOSO BRAIN ROT

check out the fanart @tigressnej-chan made, it s so beautiful HURRR

Your day was absolutely ruined. Dark, deep bags covered your under eyes as you stormed through the convenience store downstairs your apartment, body clad in an oversized hoodie and socks visible through slippers, hair greasy and lips chapped. You’re aware you look like a mess, but did you care?

Absolutely not, especially when you haven’t been sleeping well the moment you moved into this cursed apartment because of a certain fucker.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. That specific fucker – the cause of your ruin and the devil who prevented you from living a good life – waltzed inside the store, the small bell chiming to signal his presence. You scoffed at his confident, suave walk, further irritated because he just had to be insanely attractive – in an alternative, laid-back kind of way.

He wasn’t even your type; you preferred more refined men who wore pressed suits and leather shoes, but you had to admit this man was insanely attractive.

With deep, sunken eyes, a dark tattoo across the bridge of his nose and dark hair twisted into twin ponytails, large, muscular body covered in a black sweatshirt and a red scarf – he looked very much like a former member of a gang who retired because their barbaric ways wasn’t his thing. It was an odd theory, and you sat there at the corner of the store, glaring at the man who tiredly pressed the coffee maker machine for a dark roast.

As if feeling eyes on him, his lazy eyes slid over to yours, and almost automatically, one corner of his lips tilted up in humor. This fucker knew how much he annoyed you, and he only further pushed your buttons by walking over to you, the steam of his coffee nearly blocking your gaze.

“Good morning,” he greeted sarcastically, well aware that it definitely not a good morning for you.

“Have fun last night, neighbor?”

“Yes.”

“Jeez, you won’t even bother denying it?”

“I see no point in it,” he invited himself by sitting next to you, long legs crossed over his muscular thigh. You found yourself staring at how he seemed so firm even in loose sweatpants, averting your gaze and staring at your soggy ramen noodle cup instead.  “And you’re not trying to hide the fact you’re listening, either.”

“I wasn’t listening!” you slammed your fist down the table – he didn’t even flinch, only continuing to sip his coffee as if you weren’t burning in anger beside him – as you hissed, “The walls are too damn thin and you’re so fucking loud.”

“No, I wasn’t. She was loud, though.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms against your chest. He really was shameless. You already knew this man didn’t have enough shame in his body, but you didn’t think he’d have absolutely nothing.

Upon witnessing your stupefied state, he reached over to knock at your skull. “Still there, princess?” you cringed at his nickname for you; you didn’t even know this guy’s name, for pete’s sake! “Or are you still too bothered by the fact I got some good fucking last night?”

You flicked his arm away from you, nearly seething in your seat. “God, you’re insufferable. I should move out.”

“Yes, I think that would be for the best too,” he nodded to himself as he stared at his now empty coffee cup. Had it been that long already? Apparently, it was, because your noodles turned cold and your neighbor was already leaving your seat, dipping for a mocking bow. “Have a nice day, neighbor. Don’t think of my cock too much,” he teased, even going as far as winking until your jaw dropped.

You watched as he threw the paper cup in the proper bin, a little surprised he was decent enough to do mundane tasks like that. Sometimes, it was so easy to forget your neighbor was also a decent human being, but whatever.

You absolutely, utterly hated him, and you kept mumbling to yourself of the different ways you’d get your revenge on him as he walked out the door, his annoyingly gorgeous ass in view. “Yeah, right,” you scowled to yourself, “As if I can get that image out my mind now.”

He would not be an easy feat.

Despite your constant pleas for him to at least be silent during the weekdays to give you enough peace of mind to study for the finals, he didn’t stop. Hours just after the sun sets, you’d hear giggles and sloppy kisses on the hallway.

No matter how much you pressed your hands into your ears and set your music on full volume to block out the noise, you could always hear them.

Your neighbor was undeniably a fuckboy. 

Every night, he’d have a different girl dangling in his arms. You knew, because the voices squealing his name while he fucked them right next door were always different. Some days, it was deep and throaty, and on other days it’d be high-pitched and nearly scraping at your ears. They all said the same thing though, such as fuck, right there, you feel so good or harder, harder, please, I’m so close!

To say you were traumatized was an understatement. You never wanted to hear such things again, but alas, your neighbor apparently couldn’t give a single shit because he was fucking someone again.

As if things couldn’t get worse, the person he brought home this time around just had to have the most fucking annoying voice ever. Or maybe it sounded like the others, but you were in the middle of memorizing veins and brain chemicals in alphabetical harder when you heard the headboard of his bed slam against your wall, the sound hard and loud enough you dropped your book in surprise.

They didn’t stop. If anything, he kept going harder until nothing but his low sexy groans and his partner’s screaming – that was right, she was fucking screaming – like she was having her insides rearranged.

You didn’t doubt the possibility that maybe she really was. Your neighbor was such a huge, attractive guy, after all, it would make sense he was capable of such. Before you knew it, you could no longer understand the words in your textbook. You kept rereading the same line over and over again, but nothing registered into your mind. You were so close to screaming at them to stop and shut the fuck up because it was three in the morning and they were still going at it, but you weren’t that mean.

Yes, you hated him, but you weren’t going to blue ball someone or make sex awkward. Sex with your ex was always awkward, so you knew how painful it was to live with that memory. No matter how much you hated your neighbor, you wouldn’t go that far.

So you trudged all the way up to the building’s public balcony, bringing a blanket with you to survive the chilly bite of the night.

You used your phone’s flashlight to read all over the textbooks, keeping your little note cards organized and color coded beside you. Finally, you could make sense of things a little bit more, and you chugged at your Red Bull to keep you awake. Time passed by so fast whenever you were lost with your nose stuck in a book, and your attention was only ripped away when the balcony door swung open, revealing your neighbor with messed up hair and bruised lips.

He looked totally fucked out.

“Oh, fuck, no – what are you doing here?”

“This balcony is for all tenants,” your neighbor barely blinked as he walked closer to you, but instead of joining you on the table, he leaned against the railings and stared into the night sky. He seemed so placid, a little approachable despite his intimidating face even, and for a moment, you were studying his sharp, masculine features before he turned your way with a passive face. “Last time I checked, I’m a tenant, therefore I have the rights to be here.”

“I don’t care,” you retorted childishly, pulling your books closer to you as if he wanted to steal it. He only raised a brow at your actions, the large muscles of his arms bulging up from where he stood.

It felt so hard to not salivate at the sight, but for the sake of your pride, you had to push those thoughts down and remind yourself why you hated him so much. “I evoke your rights. You’re not welcome here.”

“You’re awfully harsh to a stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger, you’re my neighbor who brings girls in his home every night and I can never get a wink of sleep because all I can hear is them moaning and the sound of balls slapping!”

“Vulgar,” he smirked, and he had no business looking so attractive with that arrogant smirk on his face that it took all energy you had in you to not whack him with your book.

“I think I deserve an apology.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

You stood up with a scowl, nearly shoving the book right in his chest. “Bro, I’m this close to slapping this book right in your pretty face. You see how thick this is? I’m not kidding, this will hurt. Listen, I’ve got a final exam and a suture practice this weekend. All I’m asking for is just a few hours of sleep – that’s all. I just don’t get why you always seem to be balls deep in someone at every god forsaken hour; I can’t focus on my work when the noises are so distracting. At this point, I remember their begging more than I’m familiar with nerves. I need to study, okay? I really want to graduate.”

He fell silent at your sudden rant, then, he tilted his head to the side, a small smile on his lips. “You think I have a pretty face?”

“After everything I said, that’s all you remember?”

“It’s kind of hard to listen to every word when I’m distracted by your eyes.”

His comment caught you off-guard, and your eyes widened, arm coming up to hide your face that soon began to felt warm. He only chuckled at your reaction, the sound deep and throaty that it went right straight into the pools of your belly. “My eyes – what are you talking about? Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You’re so creepy!”

“Hmm,” he snickered, “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

“What, no one tells you you’re creepy?”

“No, people always say I’m handsome,” he said it with such a straight face that you gave him an are you serious look, and he raised one shoulder to shrug. “I’m surprised you’re not attracted to me, to be honest.”

“Wow,” you drawled out, shaking your head with a laugh as you plopped down back to your seat in defeat. “Aren’t you full of surprises? First, I get a really horny man as my next door neighbor who keeps me up at night with his shenanigans, and now he’s got the audacity to ask me why I’m not attracted to him?”

“I mean,” he scrunched his nose cutely, a huge contrast to his domineering stature. “Why aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I give up. I’m just gonna crash at my friends tonight,” you mumbled to yourself while gathering your things, leaving your neighbor all by himself. As you reached the door, you called out to him one more time, “Oh, and by the way, you reek of pussy. Go shower or something.”

“So how’s your exams going?”

“They’re fine,” you lied through gritted teeth, slicing through the fish a lot harsher than you intended. The knife scraped against the plate and you winced at the sound, ignoring your father’s loud munching. “Not too much of a big deal. My professors are nice and my classmates are nice too. I’m fitting in really well and I think I’ll even come out on top of my class this time if it weren’t for that stupid little bastard…” your last words ended up as a whisper, eyes glazing to the side as you glared at nothing in particular.

“Stupid little what?”

“Nothing, nothing,” you waved your hand in the air, “Someone’s just distracting me from my studies, is all.”

At the mention of someone distracting your usually composed and unbothered self, your father straightened up in his seat, a large smile on his face that made him look younger than he really was. “Is it a guy? Do you finally have a boyfriend?”

“Ugh, dad, really, you’re the only father who’s so eager for his daughter to have a boyfriend. Shouldn’t you be more proud that, I don’t know, I’m pretty and smart? I don’t need a boyfriend or anything.”

Your father nodded, “True, you don’t need them, but trust me when I say life is going to get pretty lonely when you grow old and you’re all by yourself. It’s still better – and life is a lot happier – when you’ve got a stable supporting and loving figure in your life.”

“I have you for that.”

“And you always will,” he patted your hand gently across the table, “But a parent won’t always be there for their child, and if you’re still not prepared for the future or ready to stand on your own two feet, then that means I didn’t do a great job at raising you; that means I’ve failed as a parent. Tell me, have I failed? Have I raised my wonderful daughter to be so repulsed by the idea of love that she’s willingly closing her doors and locking herself away in isolation?”

“No…”

“I didn’t think so,” he grinned to himself, and you watched with a frown as his eyes crinkled in happiness. Your father was such the complete opposite of you; he was always so loving and open to everyone, while you were mopey and afraid of attachment.

“Don’t be too afraid to love, child. It’s one of the most wonderful things in this world – it’s a blessing – the absolute core of our being. Why do we exist if not to love?”

“Not everyone is a romantic like you, dad,” you sighed, “Plus…how is it so easy for you to finally find someone after Mom died? Isn’t she your soul mate?” you questioned, putting your fork and knife down as you looked your father in the eye. “I just can’t believe you’re getting married again.”

“It’s already been years since she passed away, Y/N. And yes, she is my soul mate, but that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of loving someone again. Our hearts aren’t limited like that, and your mother wouldn’t want me to keep mourning her when she’s resting in peace,” he gestured to the both of you after swallowing his food, “She would’ve wanted the both of us to be happy.”

At the mention of your passed mother, your shoulders deflated, and your eyes watered at the thought of her kind smile. You wished you could see that again.

“I miss her…”

“I know, child, I know,” your father smiled encouragingly, “I also know the reason you’re so afraid to love is because you’re scared they’ll end up leaving you too, like how your mom just slipped past our fingers like that, but it’s only her body that withered. She’s still with us, right in our hearts and in our memories.”

“You really do sound like a lovesick fool.”

“That’s because I am,” your father laughed with a slap to his knees. When his phone buzzed for his alarm, he quickly dabbed a towel on his lips, standing up to excuse himself. “Now, this lunch was lovely and I dearly missed you, but I need to go back to work. We doctors just never get a break. This is a life you have to prepare for if you want to follow my footsteps.”

“I won’t follow your footsteps – I’ll surpass you.”

“I’ll be waiting for that to happen then,” he announced proudly; pride bursting in his chest at how determined his daughter was. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yes?” You squinted at the mischievous look in his eyes, wary of what your cunning father had in mind this time.

“You won’t outsmart me. You better bring a boyfriend or at least introduce someone to me on the wedding – or else I’m pulling you out of the university hospital.”

“Wha – Dad, that’s not fair!”

“All is fair in love and war, child, you’ll learn soon.”

“Oh, I just hate men!”

You really did hate men.

Your final exam was tomorrow already and you’d lost count of the coffee and Red Bull you’ve inhaled today, all so you could study one last time for the test, but no, something – or rather someone – just had to get in your way.

“I’ve had enough,” you announced before slamming your door open; not hesitating as your fists came banging down on your neighbor’s door. “Hey! Keep it the fuck down – someone’s trying to study here! Seriously, man, is it really that hard for you to keep it in your pants for one night? This is what, the sixth woman you’ve had around the past four days? Don’t you get tired? Because I sure as hell am very tired of you!”

The moans and the sounds of bed creaking stopped. For a moment, you almost smirked to yourself when they fell silent.

If only you knew it would be that easy to shut them up, you would’ve done so long ago. You were about to turn back into your room when his door swung open, and you were met by his sweaty and muscular chest heaving up and down – either in anger or from his previous activities – you couldn’t tell.

Your throat felt dry as you peered at him under your lashes, almost afraid of the way he loomed over you. Thank goodness he found the time to wear pants, though, because had he been baby naked, you would’ve run for the hills already.

His dark eyes cut through yours as he seethed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m the one who wants to ask you that,” you were surprised to find your voice despite the way your pussy actually ached just by the sight of his chiseled body, but when you did, you forced yourself to stand up taller, refusing to back down from his gaze. “It’s literally three in the morning and you’re about to fuck a hole through my wall!”

“I thought you said you’d be crashing at your friends. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to have your permission to come back home. Next time, I’ll give you a heads-up, good sir. And for your information, unlike you, I actually don’t like bothering the people around me so I came home. Now would you please kick her out and shut the fuck up for once?”

“Babe, are you coming back here or what?”

Red acrylic nails wound from his body out of nowhere, and your mouth fell open as you watched the naked woman press kisses on the blades of his shoulder. You were conflicted, torn between feeling jealous that she got to touch him like that because damn was he fine, but you also felt appalled your neighbor would be this type of person.

“Babe?” you repeated with a sarcastic laugh.

Stepping away from your neighbor’s tempting pecs, you waved to the stunning woman behind him. “Hi, I’m his neighbor, I don’t mean to be a cock block or anything but I’ve been a witness to his fuckboy ways for months now. If you think you’re special to him, I assure you, you’re not. Yesterday he was just banging two girls until the sunrise. If you’re really as sane as I hope you are, I suggest you skedaddle before this man feeds you with more lies. You’re not special, hun, he’s just going to fuck everything that walks on two legs.”

“Is that true?”

“Nadia, you know how this works—”

“I was literally just on the phone with you last night!” the woman named Nadia pushed him away, but because he was bigger, he didn’t budge. Nadia turned to you, her lipstick smudged and a suspicious white stain on the edge of her lips. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look down her head, and you and your neighbor both watched as she got dressed and left, hands up in the air. “Thank you for this. I should’ve known better than to waste time and money on him.”

You snickered as Nadia pressed on the elevator buttons, a scowl sent his way. Turning to him with pride swelling up in your chest, you smirked, “How does it feel—”

“Happy now?” he growled, his eyes so dark and slit into tiny cuts you took a step back, your heart pumping frantically for different reasons. You never thought he’d be this bothered for not being able to bust a nut. “Satisfied now, Y/N? Do you even realize what you’ve just done?”

“Uhm, yes,” you scoffed, matching his tone. “I just saved that poor girl’s life. Who else knows what you would’ve done and said to her. We don’t deserve to be looked down on and treated like this, you know.”

“Neither did I. I’m just doing my job.”

“Job? You don’t even have a job! You don’t even go to university for fuck’s sake – your apartment is rundown and smells like sour cunt and feet! Maybe you should even thank me because I’m trying to give you ideas on better things to do!”

“Yeah, and be like you?” he snapped, tugging at the strings of your hoodie until you fell a step forward. “Dressed in loose shirts to hide the fact you’ve got no tits and your ass is flatter than your back? Lying to her neighbor that she’ll crash somewhere but ends up waddling back home anyway because she’s always cooped up in her apartment studying to prove that she’s not as worthless as she is and that she doesn’t have a life or friends to begin with?” tears pooled at your eyes at his words, and you knew it hurt because it was true, but did he really have to say it that way?

However, his anger got the best of him, and he didn’t stop there. “I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to skip meals and lose sleep studying for something I don’t care about because I don’t know anything else other than following daddy’s footsteps so he’d notice me more than his new bride. I’m happy with my life.”

“How did—”

“Like you said, the walls are thin. You’re not exactly so quiet to yourself, neighbor. It’s kind of pathetic you talk to the walls when you think I’m asleep because you’ve got no one else to talk to.”

Hands balled into fists at your side, you stood on your tiptoes to spit the words out. “You’re a terrible human being,” no matter how much you tried to exert dominance over him, your lips still quivered as you fought back the urge to cry. “Go fuck yourself.”

“You’re the one who needs to go fuck yourself and get laid,” he didn’t let you have another word as he slammed the door in your face, but you still heard him through the door anyway. “Uptight bitch.”

You were wrong.

Your neighbor wasn’t just difficult – he was completely impossible.

[Dad:] Don’t forget your date!

[You:] Dad…don’t push it.

[Dad:] I find it hard to believe my beautiful daughter can’t have one. Go out there and make some friends, Y/N, I know you isolate yourself too much. It doesn’t even have to be a boyfriend. You could date a girl for all I care. I just don’t want you to be too bored at the wedding. Bring a friend.

[You:] Fine, fine, okay.

[Dad:] But a boyfriend would still be better. Your old man isn’t getting any younger and I want grandkids in the future.

[You:] Dad!

[Dad:] love ya kid !

And so it was the turn of your events that had you groaning in your swiveling chair, the grip on your phone so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up breaking it. As if your week couldn’t get any more horrible with your neighbor’s hurtful words still living at the back of your mind, your father hadn’t stopped talking about you to his co-workers and his equally crazy mother that your grandmother didn’t waste time in calling you.

You loved your nan, you really did, but more often than not, she was much more of a pain in the ass than your father was. The old woman was ruthless, shooting you question by question on why her pretty granddaughter was still single, then came the demeaning comments of how you “weren’t living life to the fullest.”

Frustration eating away at you, you let out a silent scream.

The escort site blinked back at you mockingly, temptingly, as if to remind you that your problems could easily be solved with just a click. You chastised yourself for always having the need to solve problems fast and as easily as you could, because before you even realized what you were doing, your heart started beating a mile a minute as the other line kept ringing.

You ended up lying to your grandmother that yes, nan, I have a boyfriend, can I study for my exams now please, to which the pressing woman responded with, oh, finally! well, I won’t bother you anymore. study well, my dear, I can’t wait to see him!

Just thinking about how she would react if you came alone at your father’s wedding had you breaking out in a sweat, and you chewed at your nails while waiting for the site to pick up.

You were truly desperate now, so much so that you were actually calling a rental boy site.

“Good afternoon, thank you for calling Kamo Escorts! I’m Ijichi, here to assist you. What can I help you with?”

You held back a really painful cringe, biting the insides of your cheek as you got your heart to calm down. “Uhm, yeah…so this is like my first time c-calling a site like this and I don’t know what to do but…yeah.”

“I see, we get new callers too. Would you like a guide?”

“Yes, please, that’d be great thank you.”

“Kamo Escorts is all about, well, as you can see on our webpage – we have men and even women you can hire to escort you on special events. We mostly cater to clients who only need a pretty face to dangle off their arm for social company or even care, or whatever reasons the client may have and the relationship is purely business and professional, but in some cases, the escorts may have sex with the client too under the condition they are paid more.”

The gasp that left your lips was barely stifled, and you furrowed your brows at the implication. “Wh-what, so that’s like a real thing? Isn’t this…?”

Ijichi chuckled from the other line, almost as if he’d been asked this question many times before. “In a way, it is, which is why Kamo Escorts is commercially advertised for purely social company only. You may, however, negotiate with your escort if you would like more services, but we do require that you keep our escorts’ dignity and not look down on them. The service we provide may not be your typical honorable one, but we are dedicated and equally eager to be of service to this society. Should we find that you’re dehumanizing or harassing our escort, we won’t hesitate to…take some action,” the light warning of his tone didn’t go unnoticed by you, and Ijichi took note of your hesitant silence. “Would you still like to proceed?”

“Ye-yeah, I didn’t want the sex anyway.”

“Very well, then. What event are we looking for?”

“It’s for a relative’s wedding,” you supplied, “I need a date.”

“Any preference in escorts? Male, female, tall, short, sociable or introverted?”

Your eyes widened, your back flattening against your chair. “Oh, wow, so this is like a Build-A-Bear, okay, wait,” you chewed your nails again, racking up on your mind on who or what exactly you liked. “My ideal guy is…someone tall, and has pretty broad shoulders…I think I prefer a more introverted one too because people with too much energy sort of drains me…and someone caring and attentive, yes. Handsome too – but if that’s too much to ask for then—”

“It’s okay, Miss. I assure you all our escorts are definitely blessed in the gene department.”

At his confidence, you scrunched your nose and made yourself small on your chair. “Okay, but now that you say it, if he’s too handsome then I’m going to look like a potato next to him.”

“We’ll find someone compatible for you; we always never fail to please our clients. We’ll be able to match you with a more suitable escort if you’re more descriptive with what you want.”

“Okay, okay,” you continued, “Oh, and I like guys with long hair too, but really, anything is fine. I just want someone to effortlessly pretend they’re enamored after just one date and that they’re very glad to be there with me on the wedding. It’s even better if they’re introverted but can communicate well and isn’t shy at all. My relatives are kind of…freaky.”

Freaky couldn’t even begin to describe the chaos of your relatives.

In fact, had you not been paying for this service, you would’ve almost felt bad for the guy. He had no idea what he had coming for him – but then again, neither did you.

“I think we’ve got just the perfect guy for you,” Ijichi answered after a beat, “May I ask when is this event and how long you’d like to book the escort service for?”

“The event is in two weeks. I don’t need to meet him before the wedding because I’m very busy with exams, so I hope this guy can just act really well. As for the duration…I think just one day is enough. After the wedding, I’m coming right back home.”

“Convenient then,” he mused to himself, and you heard slight clicking from his side. “Let’s see…someone introverted and able to communicate well…definitely not Satoru, and his entirely booked by sugar mommies too…” Ijichi whispered to himself, followed by a slight humorous snort. “One last question: would you like someone older, younger, or the same age as you?”

“I’m in uni – I’d be more comfortable if they were closer to my age.”

“Oh, perfect, his schedule is oddly open for the whole month. Wonder what happened, he’s barely had free slots before…” the man was speaking to himself again, and you sat there pouting, even more dumbfounded at how this whole process worked.

Ijichi talked about this escort service and guided you so easily you almost couldn’t believe that it was as…simple as that. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but deep down in your mind, you were waiting for something fishy or weird to happen.

“I found someone for you. He’s one of our best escorts and I believe he’ll be great for this event. However, due to privacy issues, the disclosure of contacts and personal information can only happen once the escort agrees to this service. We’ll shortly get back to you if he’s up for the job. If not, I’ll find you another one quickly; you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Okay, thank you so much!”

“It’s our pleasure. Thank you for contacting Kamo Escorts – we hope to see you again!”

Once the call ended, you fell back on your bed with a sigh. Your neighbor wasn’t around the whole day, leaving you in peace and silence, and you took advantage of the rare quietness by pulling out a book. Hours passed, and you were nearly finished with half the textbook, fingers slightly numb from practicing sutures over and over again when your phone lit up with a text.

It came from an unknown number, but the words were loud and clear. Hey, this is Choso, I’ll be your escort for the wedding. Please text me here for the details and what else you expect from my service. I’m only a text and call away, please don’t hesitate to ask me for anything else.

You blinked at your phone, unsure of how to process the whole thing.

So it was official now – you rented an escort and you had a date for the event. Quite frankly, you were kind of expecting that escorts would be a lot more…flirtatious or even eager to please, but this Choso guy sounded too formal for you to picture yourself having this stranger be a good company for your event. Ijichi sounded so sure though that you no longer questioned it; smiling instead now that you’ve finally solved one of your problems.

Life felt a lot easier.

At around four in the morning, you were too worn out to keep going. Your exam was in the afternoon so you still had plenty of time to sleep, your stomach grumbled, prompting you to leave your unit to get some snacks.

Keys in hand and feet cold in your socks, you locked your door, halting in your steps when you saw your neighbor. Different from his usual comfortable clothing, he was dressed in a formal white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his large, masculine hands coming up to loosen his tie. He wasn’t aware of your presence, almost blindly walking to his door and sighing. You didn’t miss the fact his shoulders were slumped, and he looked absolutely worn out.

For a moment, you actually felt worried, until you remembered what he said to you.

“What, no pussy to fuck tonight?”

He froze in front of his door for a moment, slightly tilting back to see your aggravated stance. Upon seeing it was just you, he shook his head and turned back to unlock his door. “No thanks to you.”

“Aw, did I ruin your reputation?” you mocked sarcastically, “I’m surprised people aren’t smart enough to pick up the smell of women’s perfume on you already. Seriously, are people that desperate for touch?” It was ironic; you’d never admit it, but you weren’t any better than them. You were equally desperate to be touched despite your aversion to romantic relationships, but he didn’t need to know that.

“It’s normal when you’re someone people are naturally attracted to. Not that you’d get it, of course, because it’s clear you don’t get some.”

“At least my apartment doesn’t smell like pussy.”

“At least I don’t masturbate every night then pass out after one weak orgasm.”

Your cheeks burned at his offhanded comment, and even with his back turned to you, you could see the slight smile tugging at his cheeks. He must’ve felt so cocky, thinking that he’d defeated you, so you blurted out the most intelligent thing possible: “How dare you!” while grabbing onto his shoulders to make him face you. “Look me in the eye and take that back!”

“Whatever you’re planning,” he crooned, head tilted to the side and making strands of his bangs fall over his eyes. He looked absolutely handsome under the flickering lights of the hallway in that moment, and you hated how you weren’t able to take your hands off of his strong shoulders, his masculine and spicy perfume clouding your mind. “It’s not going to work. Surprise surprise, but you’re not as cute as you think you are.”

Your eyes burned with fire, the nerves in your body so closing to popping. He infuriated you so much. “And you’re not as sexy as you believe you are!”

“Oh, yeah?” The positions are suddenly switched as he cornered you beside his doorframe, both of his arms planted beside your head. Because he was taller, he had to lean down to look you in the eye, his warm, minty breath brushing over your lips. You stared at him with wide eyes, fingers raking over the wall in a silent attempt to flee. Upon seeing your pursed lips, he laughed.

“Then why are you so shaky? Do I make you nervous?” his head dipped down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Say…you only pretend to hate me, but you actually wish it was you I’m fucking every night, don’t you? Tell me…do you touch yourself when you hear me eating someone out?”

“I-I’m not—”

Before you could combust under his gaze, he pulled himself away from you, a satisfied smirk on his face at your flustered state. He chuckled lowly, keys spinning on his thick finger. “I was just teasing you, princess. No need to get so worked up.”

“I never want you near me again!”

He raised both brows as if to challenge you, and you knew from the glint in his eyes he was up to no good. “Princess, you jumped on me first.”

“I didn’t!” You shouted, immediately slapping your palm over your lips after realizing people were sleeping. He snickered at your reactions, and you pushed past him back to your unit, suddenly losing the appetite to get your precious snacks. “God, I hate you so much.”

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual.”

Difficult. Unbelievable. Complicated. Idiotic. Nothing was ever easy with him.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” your father scolded from his chair, his body barely moving as the stylists fixed his hair and makeup, but his eyes glared at you from the mirror. “You’re a lot more nervous than I am, and it’s my wedding.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it.”

Your father sighed to himself, standing up after they were done with him. He checked his appearance in the mirror for a while, nodding to himself in satisfaction. It was still a little surreal that he was going to get married again, to a woman half his age of all people, but he was happy, and his bride seemed to really love him too, so you no longer questioned your father’s decisions. He was an adult, anyway, he could make his own decisions.

“You’re waiting for your boyfriend, you say?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s he like?”

You stiffened at the question. Not wanting your sharp-eyed father to pick up on the smallest cues, you lied through your teeth despite not having any idea on who or what kind of person the escort was.

Other than discussing details of how you two supposedly met, conversations had been crisp and short. You were lucky that the escort seemed to be nice and smart enough to not always ask you to explain everything, and he was crisp and curt in his texts too. No flirty or suggestive messages, not even a single emoji. He seemed a little stiff, and while you worried if you could fake chemistry with someone who seemed like a wall, you were also assured by the fact he wasn’t some creep.

“Nice. He’s sweet. You’ll like him.”

“And when did you meet him?”

“Dad, do I have to tell this story all over again?” you groaned, “We met after exams, he goes to a different uni and he studies law—”

“Law. Impressive.”

“Of course you’re impressed,” you rolled your eyes. Coming from a family of doctors and engineers, your father, and pretty much everyone else in the family, also expected that you’d date someone who was equally intelligent and had enough connections in different industries at least. It just so happened you were really lucky your escort also really did study law for a bit before he became an escort; a detail you never got enough explanation for. “He’ll be here anytime soon. Just you wait.”

In reality, you were the one who couldn’t wait.

You were excited and nervous at the same time to see this mysterious escort, and you were in the middle of talking to your father and his bride when someone called you.

“Y/N?”

You turned around with a bright grin. That must be him! You clasped at the hems of your dress so you could meet this mysterious, rigid man properly, but the moment your eyes met his equally startled gaze, you choked on your own breath. “Y-you—”

Choso stood before you; handsome as ever in his suit and tie, his iconic twin tails still there. How ever would your father believe you now that he was a lawyer, especially with his messy hair and face tattoo? You loved it and found it sexy on him, no denying that, but your father was a little bit more traditional. But that aside, it was Choso?!

His professionalism arose and he regained his composure quicker than you did, the smile on his face so natural and alluring even you almost fell for it.

Choso wrapped an arm around your waist before kissing you on the cheek, and the skin felt extremely hot under his lips. You couldn’t move, couldn’t even speak, because Choso was pressed flush against you, and he looked at you with stars shining in his eyes you didn’t know whether to be flattered or afraid.

Maybe a fucked up mix of both.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad,” he explained with a small smile on his lips, and he looked so handsome and smelled so good in that moment you were left gaping at him as he bowed to your father, arm politely extended. “You must be Y/N’s father. It’s very nice to meet you sir. I’m her boyfriend, Choso.”

To your surprise, your father eagerly shook his hand with the brightest grin he’d worn the whole night before he faced you with a laugh. “No way,” he beamed, gesturing to Choso. “He’s your boyfriend? You managed to snag this fine man?”

“Dad!” your ears burned with embarrassment. Choso only laughed; making you painfully aware of his large, warm hand resting at the small of your back.

“I heard you’re a lawyer, son?”

“Yes, sir.”

Your father nodded in approval, the two exchanging over words about what his plans were for the future and how his studies were going. You stood there with a pounding heart, fearful that Choso could fuck up any moment, but he was so effortless and easy going. Had you not been the one paying him, you would’ve been fooled too.

So this was the life of an escort.

“So how much did my daughter pay you?”

“Dad, I didn’t—”

“I mean, there’s no way she actually charmed you with her non-existent social skills. My daughter here can’t even talk to someone and look them in the eye, much less ask someone out, so how did this happen?”

Choso laughed at your father’s lighthearted comment, saving the day for what seemed like the hundredth time already. “I approached her first, sir. We were both eating in this small diner and it was cramped, so we shared tables and started conversation,” Suddenly, his grip tightened on you as he pulled you closer, your ear now resting above the lulling and steady beating of his heart. How was he so calm?

He lightly squeezed your hip and it had you freezing under his touch, stiffening even more when he looked down at you so adoringly. “Guess it went downhill from there.” God, you had no idea who this man was.

“Really? What did you guys talk about?”

Choso opened his mouth to speak, but it was there, that damned glint on those dark eyes again that you clutched at his bicep. He may be damn good at this job, but knowing Choso, he was enjoying this way too much.

Anything you couldn’t predict or control properly was a huge no in your game, and you pulled Choso away before he could say something downright humiliating.

“Dad, just go focus on your wedding. I want to spend time with my boyfriend, okay?” You couldn’t even begin to fathom the inward cringe upon your words, the feeling only worsening when Choso fought back a laugh masked with a cough. Before your father could say anything else, you dragged Choso rather harshly, but he didn’t mind; he followed you obediently. “Come with me. I need to talk to you,” You didn’t stop until you were both alone in a desolated corner, and finally, you hissed at him. “What are you doing here?!”

“I should be asking you the same thing – but it turns out you’re my client.”

“Client? So you really are my escort?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So those women…”

“All my clients,” he confirmed your thoughts. “I assure you they knew what they were getting into. In fact, they were the ones who asked for that special service that caused you to lose your sleep every night. That woman the other day was just pissed because she booked me for three days, but I lied that I was available until the duration she wanted when I wasn’t.”

“You mean you were still working an escort for somebody else?”

He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Why did you lie then?”

“It’s more money,” Choso stared down at his hands before his eyes flitted back up to yours, his face unreadable. “I’m saving up so I can move somewhere else. Our apartment isn’t exactly the most ideal considering my profession. I need to find someplace quieter with thicker walls this time,” he smiled, “That way, I’ll no longer bother my sweet neighbor,” your lips felt dry at his words, your tongue darting out to lick at them while Choso scrutinized you under his gaze.

“I have to admit though – you asking for escort service is the last thing I’d ever imagine you doing. Not that I’m complaining since it’s still money in my pocket, but you’re not the most pleasing company to be with.”

“Oh, you bet, Choso. Had I known you were going to be my escort, I would’ve declined long ago,” you groaned, your head dropping in your hands. “What was Ijichi thinking when he said I would be compatible with you?”

“You’re not,” he stated, “But I am compatible with you – as I am with pretty much everyone else. I’m one of the best escorts, and soon you’ll see why.”

You didn’t understand what he meant by then, but it seemed Choso was quite eager to show his skills off when he dragged you back inside the reception event. The whole time, you couldn’t pay attention to anything or anyone else other than Choso. It still felt hard to believe that the whole time, he really was doing his job, and upon seeing how easily he had people believing you two were an item despite you just standing silently beside him, you felt guilty that you disrupted his “work” like that.

Guilt gnawed at you as Choso made everyone laugh, and soon your relatives were cooing, praising you and congratulating you that you were “happy” now.

Back then, you always looked down on him and even called him a mere fuckboy, but Choso was so much more than that. He was intelligent; his past as a lawyer proved that, and whatever happened that caused him to work in this industry kept lingering in your mind.

There was no denying it now.

You respected this man – admired him even.

“And now it’s time to join the newly married couple on the dance floor! Come on, people, bring your dates up here for a twirl!”

You remained planted in your seat, too comfortable with Choso’s jacket draped around your bare shoulders. You’d lost count of how many times your head ducked down for the lack of sleep, and as much as you loved your dad, you wanted nothing more than to go home and rest.

Choso offered his hand to yours, a teasing smile on his face. He wriggled his eyebrows up and down, and he looked so utterly ridiculous that you couldn’t believe the boring man you were texting was the same infuriating yet undeniably attractive bastard who was your neighbor was the same fun. The world is very small, it seemed, and you weren’t sure whether you were brave enough to venture these strange places and feelings.

“Uh-uh. No. I’m not dancing.”

“Two left feet?”

“No, I’m wearing heels. My feet hurts.”

“Then take it off.”

“And get my feet dirty?” you scoffed. As if to prove your point, you snuggled deeper into his jacket that smelled heavenly like him, closing your eyes as you pretended to sleep. “Sitting here isn’t so bad. Plus, look at them, all staring at each other with goo-goo eyes. It’s revolting,” you shuddered.

Through the sickeningly romantic music playing in the background, Choso fell silent. You cracked an eye open, frowning when Choso studied each of your features carefully. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You seem to hate the idea of love.”

“Because it’s pointless.”

Choso narrowed his eyes at your answer, brows bunching up at the way your shoulders squared to keep yourself away. Then, he stood up and sighed, offering his hand to you once more.

“I won’t really ask you to explain why, because frankly, I don’t care,” you stared at his large palms for a few seconds. There must be a ghost possessing your body because you looped your fingers through his and allowed him to guide you on the dance floor despite your mind’s protests, and soon, Choso’s eyes were all over you. “But if you don’t want your money to go down the drain and you really want to convince everyone, I suggest you forget about that mindset for just a few more hours,” his voice dropped down to a low whisper, his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes turned solemn, his hand on your waist gentle. “Dance with me. Let’s show them how madly in love we are with each other.”

“We met just last week, remember?”

“Love at first sight, princess,” Choso kissed your forehead, sending your heart thumping and running to another dimension. Oddly enough, you didn’t mind, and your hands travelled from his strong arms to his broad shoulders instinctively. “Take your heels off. You can step on my feet and I’ll dance for us both. Just put your arms around my neck – yes just like that,” he nodded with a smile when your fingertips nervously played with his hair, and Choso began to dance you both in time with the music. “Are you good?”

“I don’t like this lack of space between us.”

Choso smirked, “Why, do I get you all hot and bothered?”

“Jesus, Choso, you can’t be serious for a minute, huh?”

“It’s kind of hard to be serious when you’re so flustered and adorable right now,” you pulled at his hair in response, but of course, he wasn’t really hurt.

“Look at me,” he demanded, but you refused, keeping your gaze planted on your bare feet on top of his again. “Hey. I said look at me,” he tilted your chin up until you’re forced to be like prey under his gaze, his breath tickling the bow of your lips. “I am your escort for tonight – and I humbly ask that you do your part as my client so I can perform my job well. I need you to look into my eyes and pretend you’re in love with me.”

“I don’t want to fall in love with anyone,” you suddenly admitted, “I’m scared.”

“You don’t have to be,” he replied, softly this time, and his hands ran down tenderly to your hips to pull you closer to him. “I’ll be there to catch you.”

You couldn’t remember who leaned in first. The only thing you remembered was that the music faded in the background when you kissed him – or maybe he kissed you – fuck, you didn’t really remember. Eventually, the kiss grew too heated, his hands squeezing your waist while you moan at the taste of chocolate and wine on his expert tongue.

Choso easily read your mind and swooped you away from the crowd, the both of you stumbling until you made it out to the venue and onto the beach.

The salty air kissed your skin while Choso carried you bridal style, arms looped around his neck while he kept moving his lips above yours. He was laughing through the kiss with how messy and eager you were, tugging at his shirt to encourage him to unbutton it. Choso set you both down on the darker, isolated part of the beach where nothing but the sound of waves lapping against one another could be heard with your breathless pants and his chuckles.

You were lying on his jacket, dress bunched up to your chest while your legs were spread wide open for him. “Ch-Choso,” you choked out when his tongue ran flat across your slick folds, his hands keeping your hips pinned down to the sand. “I-I, please.”

“I got you, princess,” was all he said before he completely dived into your heat, his sharp nose brushing into your cunt.

It didn’t take long until you were spasming in his hold, legs closing around his head. Choso groaned into your pussy, a finger working its way inside your sopping cunt while he licks and slurps your arousal like it was fucking water. Now you understood why those girls always lost their mind – Choso was a fucking expert when it came to worshipping pussy.

Choso pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine at the sudden emptiness, but he was kind, eager to please you that he immediately replaced it with his tongue.

You cried out when you felt his tongue entering your hole, one thumb pulling the hood of your lips up to reveal your sensitive pearl. Choso rubbed your clit fervently, his other hand reaching up to squeeze and tug at your breasts while he drank your juices dripping down his tongue as if you would be his last meal – and he honestly wished you were, because you tasted like heaven on him and he wanted more.

Once he felt you clamping down on his tongue so tightly he struggled to retrieve his warm muscle back, he helped you reach your high by pinching your clit. You moaned out his name, the sound sending blood straight down his cock, and he groaned into your pussy the moment you grinded on his face as you relaxed from your orgasm.

Choso didn’t give you the chance to recover from your orgasm, pulling you up to his lap before he’s kissing you again. You moaned when you tasted yourself on his tongue, his face and cheeks sweet from your arousal and cum.

You should be ashamed, but you couldn’t find a single bone in your body that felt shy right now. Choso was right – there was no point in being shameful when it came to your pleasure.

The kiss was sloppy, more tongue than lips and teeth clashing onto another. Choso grinded you on his hardened erection in search of your heat that would bring him relief, but he slowed down and pulled away from you, a string of saliva connected from your lips. He wanted you – wanted to fuck you so badly – so he searched your eyes for the answer when you aligned the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Is this okay? Are you sure with this?”

“Yeah,” you gritted your teeth when his tip entered your tight cunt, your walls sucking him in greedily already. Choso’s head dropped down to your shoulder, his teeth sinking down to your shoulder. You slowly sat down on his thick length, but then froze before he could bottom out. “Wait, no, I’m broke! I can’t pay for your extra services!”

“It’s free for you, princess,” he rasped out, “Now sit on my lap so I can feel you around me already.”

“Do you always have to be so vulgar?”

Through the pleasure that had his abs rippling, Choso managed a laugh. “You might want to get used to it.”

“Why would I?” you breathed out, eyes shutting tight once he fully slid into you. He allowed you to get used to the sudden stretch; it had been too long since you’ve been touched this way that you were impossibly tight around him right now. Your chest rose and fall with each faltering breath, your nails running down his back when Choso gave a deep, experimental thrust that immediately hits your sweet spot.

You moaned, cheek resting on his shoulder as Choso set the pace, squeezing your ass as he bounced you up and down his cock. “You’re gone after this. Once this contract is over, you’re moving away and I won’t get to see you anymore. I-I won’t lose sleep anymore after hearing you fuck all those women and gosh, I hate you so much, you know that?”

“I hated you too,” he groaned through your skin, “Or at least, that’s what I told myself so I wouldn’t get hurt.”

“Hurt? I would never hurt you,” Really, you praised yourself for still being able to form coherent sentences even after Choso kept fucking into you.

“I’m an escort, princess, I’m everybody’s and nobody’s at the same time,” he explained almost angrily, and his lips zealously sucked love bites to the sensitive flesh of your neck, “Even if you won’t hurt me, we’re bound to crash and burn at some point. This is why we’re not allowed to get attached to anyone,” his lips brushed over her collarbone, his canines dragging along to make red marks. “Why we’re not allowed to fall,” he squeezed her breast in the palm of his hand, twisting the peaked nipple until you whined, hips bucking deeper into his cock. “Why we’re not allowed to love.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“I’ve always liked you,” he laughed through the pleasure, holding your hips down so he could drive his cock deeper into you. Yes, he was selfish, yes, he was frustrated – and his feelings burst through the way Choso powered into you. You fell limp in his arms and he easily caught you like he always did, his eyes blown wide as he stared right into your eyes, his dick still pummeling through your gummy walls.

Choso inhaled sharply when you clenched down on him, an elongated moan spilling past your lips. “I liked you the moment you moved in and you fell flat on your face before you could greet me.”

“Shut up, don’t remind me of that!” you raked your nails down his back hard enough to draw blood, and Choso concealed the pain with light chuckle, the pain only prompting him to absolutely use you. “You’re seriously bringing it up now when you’re – ah, fuck – b-buried in me?”

Choso tugged at one of your legs and wrapped it around his waist, the sudden change of angle had you pressing down deeper into him. It felt like you were sinking closer and closer to his cock, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix until you’re crying out in his arms, scratches evident on his back.

“For now,” he breathed out, “I want to at least be selfish enough to want you now, just for now if fate won’t still allow it.”

“W-we can try,” you said in your lust-filled gaze, lips crashing down messily to his while you bounced on him, your hips slamming down at the same to meet his thrusts. “It’s not going to be easy, but we can try, right?” You cupped his face, surprised with the sudden vulnerability from his hooded eyes, looking so innocent and beautiful as if he wasn’t painting your insides white.

“Okay,” he nodded, brows pinching together. And that was all the both of you needed before Choso sank his fangs down the column of your neck to hold on his low groans; your head thrown back as you both drown in the pleasure of being with one another.

In the blink of an eye, all tenderness is Choso’s touches replaced by the hunger in his eyes and the power of his lust-filled thrusts. You were a moaning mess by the time your hips sit flat on his pelvic bone and his balls brush on your ass from how deep he was hitting you, and you felt his teeth nibble at the side of your breasts again as he warned, “But for now, I’m not going to go easy on you – not when I’ve wanted you for so long and I’ve been so hard for you these all time.”

And you allowed him. Because nothing was ever easy with Choso, but for him, you’d try pushing through hell and back.

[iron--spider]

I woke up at 3am yesterday to watch The Devil All the Time and I’ve been thinking about it since. I’m gonna put my thoughts and feelings and a review of sorts behind the cut, because I am gonna talk about it freely, so there will be spoilers! So don’t click if you don’t wanna see. I’ll also be discussing the content of the film and I know that might bother people, so that stuff is in here, too! And it’ll be really long because you know I can’t shut up.

So, I loved it. I loved it loved it loved it. I read the book a long time ago when I first found out Tom was gonna be in it, and the only problem I had with the book was that the POVs would change in the middle of a paragraph lmao, but other than that I thought it was pretty perfect. I knew the movie was gonna be pretty brutal, because the book is brutal, so I was prepared.

-BUT I think the critics HIGHLY HIGHLY exaggerated how bad the content was. Like, seriously, they acted as if this was gonna be a Saw movie. I was preparing for blatant, horrific gore, but it didn’t live up to their dramatics at all. There’s blood and nasty situations, but every single episode of Game of Thrones is worse than this movie, as are most episodes of any crime drama on a paid network. I actually thought they were super, super tactful of all their horrific shit. The dog death was off screen and the shot of the body (described by the critics as literally traumatic) was so quick (enough to shut your eyes) and in the dark. I also argue that particular moment is extremely important for Arvin’s journey, because it’s the moment he truly turns on his father and turns on religion entirely, and he carries it with him his whole life (it’s what he flashes back to when he says “I know what my daddy did” because it’s the marker of all Willard’s mistakes) and it winds up being one of the last things he does before he leaves everything behind. Burying Jack’s bones. So, like, I despise dog death or any animal death in my entertainment, but it’s important here and handled well. And all the worst death scenes are either extremely fast (Helen’s and Gary Matthew’s) or shown in negative (all the photos). I think Bodecker’s headshot with Bobo is probably the worst and is also pretty quick. I don’t know if this means I’m a jaded bitch, but God the way they were all whining and crying, I thought it’d be a million times worse. It could have been, with the book’s descriptions, so it was actually pretty tame. Lenora’s death affected me the most and they cut away from that, too. I guess it’ll still bother some people, but there are many, many mainstream things that are far more violent and gory than this was.

-I thought it was a beautiful movie. I never mind films that are slightly slower but I love ones that use their time to lay things out and really show us what’s going on, build the ambiance and the relationships. I loved the narration (which I was worried about), and it really made me feel like we were visiting a moment in time that was important. Like something that was written and should be learned about. Rumors in a town you’re passing through. The ghosts of past trauma and transgressions looming over everyone that’s left.

-I liked the changes they made with Roy and Theodore because I thought that storyline kinda meandered in the book and I’m glad that Roy was actually gone the whole time and not just neglecting to come back to Lenora.

-The only real complaints I can make, I’ll get out of the way here: I wanted a little bit more time with Carl and Sandy. Carl was really creepy, but he could have been much creepier. In the book he was the one looking at the pictures constantly, Not Sandy, and that really showed that he was the one with the sickness, the one pushing them forward and orchestrating it all. I thought they did well with showing how Sandy deteriorated in her efforts with him through the years, but I would have liked to see a bit more of their personal lives together and her fear of him and her genuine feelings about what they’re doing, because the book goes into that a lot more. I also wasn’t a fan of Lee finding the picture early and knowing some about what they were doing, because I liked how it was a surprise to him in the book and yet he still did all he could to cover it up. And lastly, in the book there’s a scene with Arvin after he kills Sandy and Carl where he’s in a motel and he takes like 18 showers because he can’t get the grime of what he’s done off of him, and he looks at the picture and has a nightmare about killing Sandy, and I really would have loved if they’d kept it in. It would have been another ‘acting’ moment for Tom, and it would have been nice for us to see his direct trauma and reaction to everything that’s piling on top of him.

-BUT that’s it. I loved pretty much every single other thing and decision that they made. The cinematography was TOP NOTCH. You could tell they filmed on 35mm film, you could see the grain, and it really, really added to it. Antonio Campos is a very skilled director and I trusted him at the helm of this story. Everything looked so authentic, all the sets and the costumes. The soundtrack and score were AMAZING and enhanced the film. Technically it was just perfect in every regard to me.

-Acting! Acting! God this was like...a massive testament to the casting department and the talent of these people. Everyone was on their A game. Bill Skarsgård has been on my radar since Castle Rock (which I recommend to everybody, both seasons) and he was so natural and great in this role. Haley Bennet was absolutely adorable as Charlotte, I loved her cute face and her sweet relationship with little Arvin. Riley Keough was so great as Sandy with the limited amount of time she had, and Jason Clarke is one of my favorites but he was unrecognizable in this as creepy ass Carl. Harry Melling was a far cry from Dudley Dursley and he did a great job with his screen time, too. Same with Mia Wasikowska, who didn’t have much to do (same as poor Helen in the book) but she was able to garner our sympathy anyway. Seb Stan was slimy and gross but he pulled it off so well. Eliza Scanlen has been one of my favorites since Sharp Objects (another one that’s brutal as hell but I recommend it, she’s so scary) and she was so, so great here. Robert Pattinson was ALRIGHT, everybody talks him up over this but he felt a little hammy to me and a little too over the top, but there’s no denying his talent.

-Now, the reason we’re all here. Tom. My God. As soon as it was over I just didn’t know what the hell to do, I didn’t even know how to....go on, lmfao. We all know he’s talented, that’s why we’re here, that’s why we love him, but his performance in this is just BEYOND all that. Beyond comprehension. The man is only 24 years old and he’s out here outacting people who have been in the industry for longer than he’s been alive. He is SHOCKINGLY good. I knew he’d be perfect for Arvin as soon as I read the book, but he just completely embodied this role in a way that I couldn’t have imagined. He doesn’t show up in the movie until about 45 minutes in (which doesn’t hurt it because of the strength of the leadup, Bill’s performance and the performance of little Arvin’s actor) but God, as soon as he’s there the whole thing comes to life in a way that it hadn’t before. Tom is literally just a shining light, and he draws your eye in every single scene he’s in, and when he’s not there you’re wondering when he’s gonna come back. Arvin, to me, is a very complex character—he has been inherently changed by how his father twisted religion in his childhood, how deeply he betrayed him by his behavior, but he still has a kind heart and a protective streak and the need to be strong despite the pain nearly breaking him apart from moment to moment. Tom is just outrageously good at portraying all Arvin’s little nuances, how he clenches his jaw, how his voice breaks when he’s afraid or trying to convince someone of something or get his point across, how his hands tremble after he’s done something he wishes he didn’t have to do, how his whole body wilts when he realizes he’s emulating his father. And his eyes. Tom can do so, so much with his eyes that it’s unbelievable. He tells you so much with just a simple look, a glance, a wince, a long blink. I’m not exaggerating when I say he’s just an absolute revelation in this, he cements his place in Hollywood with a firm hand and a tender look, and I will not be forgetting what he did here anytime soon. There’s a reason that everyone called him out for being so stunning in this. He is magnificent. He has a gift.

-I wanna say, in particular, how much I love Arvin’s relationship with Lenora. Their lives were both marked by such tragedy and pain and Arvin just took up the torch of protecting her from the moment he said hello as a child. He wants so badly to be tough, and he IS, but there’s just miles and miles of love in this boy’s heart, and it manifests itself for his family—for his uncle, for his grandma, but for Lenora in particular. I loved how he just showed up when she was being harassed and just ran in there without thinking, and it’s purely devastating that he was out taking care of her bullies while a worse predator was cornering her. The scene where she was sick wasn’t in the book but it was a beautiful addition. Tom sometimes wears this very open, unguarded, honest expression, and this is the only scene in which he shows it, and it really expresses the love between them and how much she means to him. Arvin didn’t find Lenora’s body in the book, but it was the right change for them to make. Tom was devastating here, and that pain and that moment truly fuel every second of his journey through the rest of the film. “My Lenora”. The saddest siblings. Both Eliza and Tom did so beautifully with this relationship and I hope they work together again.

-Favorite acting moments for Tom: when he’s in the car in the rain after beating up the bullies, when he’s in the church crowd and realizes Preston is insulting his Grandma (the way his face changes oh my GOD), when he finds Lenora, when the cop comes to tell him Lenora was pregnant (this is just....so damn good), when he was telling his uncle to look after his Grandma, THE ENTIRE CHURCH CONFRONTATION (the way he trembles when he’s trying to get his attention, how he speaks the whole time, how he slowly gathers his strength), when he thinks Sandy has shot him, the moment where he’s over Lee’s body and just....pleading with his eyes for him to listen and realize what he’s done. And the last scene, in the car, all the emphasis on his face....once again, he can do so, so much with a look, with his eyes. Someone called out the beautiful last shot in the film, and of course, it’s Arvin’s sleeping face. And it was so beautiful (and devastating, to think of him enlisting. Tom draws so much sympathy that you just want Arvin to have a normal life so badly. He deserves it, he does, but will he get it?)

-Last thing I’ll say, I really loved how, despite turning his back on religion, that God seems to be protecting Arvin the whole time. He’s terribly afraid confronting the preacher and that could have easily gone badly, especially when he tosses the book, but Arvin was somehow able to get a shot off and get the upper hand. And with Carl and Sandy, he senses something is off immediately once they pull off the road, and he would have absolutely been killed had Carl not switched out Sandy’s bullets for blanks. And in the confrontation with Lee, he once again shoots at the same time as him, shoots without looking, and manages to come out unscathed and on top. A few spoiler reviews pointed out that the last person that picks Arvin up is supposed to be a Jesus-like figure, almost like he’s finally been saved. It hurts that everyone around him that he loved is almost forsaken by God, but he himself is protected. It’s such a complicated commentary on religion throughout the entire piece, but it’s so interesting and engrossing.

So I’d recommend this movie to anyone that loves movies, loves Tom, can deal with a gritty story that takes its time laying out all the chess pieces. It is definitely heavy subject matter but it doesn’t go overboard with the horror as it easily could have. Yes, there are triggers to look for, but the critics hugely over exaggerated how awful it was. I can probably go get time stamps for certain things if people wanna ask me after reading this, but if you can get through a Tarantino film or any HBO drama, you can do this. And Tom’s performance is one for the ages and not one that deserves to be passed over or downplayed. It is beautiful and heart-wrenching—a magnificent turn that displays his monumental ability to reach out and guide you into any world he decides to make his own.

I loved The Devil All the Time.

[its-not-a-phase-mom-i-d8-demons]

The Undateables Reaction to MC having a Nightmare

Pairings: Diavolo x MC, Barbatos x MC, Simeon x MC

Warnings: FEM!READER!!!, swearing?, kissing, a miniscule mention of blood and zombies lol, luke being a sweetie pie (as per usual), just comfort in general bc i’m needy, mention of a panic attack, big daddy diavolo can fucking rail me ok?

A/N: people make fun of me for liking diavolo :((  so I had to get this out of my system

Diavolo

Confused

I mean, he’s had nightmares before of course, but he’s never seen a human have one

He didn’t even know humans had the capacity to dream until a few nights before

So when he wakes up to you writhing around in the silken sheets, crying and begging some unknown entity to “please stop” and “don’t hurt him” with tears soaking your face, he was stumped

You seemed distressed so he did the only thing he could think of; wake you up

Now, this baby

He didn’t know, ok?

When he grips you firmly by the shoulders and gives you a good shake he only succeeds in scaring you a lot more

Your hand shoots up and you drag your nails across his pretty face in blind defense and wake up, tangled in mounds of silk, with a hulking figure hunched over next to you

Falling off the bed, you scramble as far as you can away from the monster and into a corner of the room

Barbatos, after hearing all the commotion, enters the room at that moment, allowing light from the hallway to flood the dark bedroom

“My lord, MC, what on earth is going on?!” He asks, noticing you crouching in the corner and he goes to you and rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, “My lady, are you alright? What did the young lord do to you?”

“Barbatos?” You whimper, tentatively peeking up from your hands.

“You can tell me, I’ll deal with him myself.”

“MC? Where’d you go, dove?” Came Diavolo’s disoriented voice from the bed, “Why’d you scratch me?”

A second later Barbatos was on his feet in a somewhat defensive stance, protecting you from any advance the demon lord could make.

You were still behind him crying less stormily, but crying nonetheless. Noticing how the butler was posed, you only started crying harder.

“Barbatos, please, i-it wasn’t him! It was me!” You said, emotion choking your sweet voice, “I h-had a bad dream and when I woke up, I hurt him!” 

Cocking a brow, the butler strode toward the light switch (i think they have electricity??) and upon flicking it on, understood what had happened.

The demon lord was still slightly hunched over on the mattress, nursing a scratched, bloody cheek, you were crouched against the far wall, sniffling and crying out of fear, the bed was a mess…

“Correct me if I’m wrong MC, did you have a nightmare?” He asked gently, “Can you move?”

“M-hm.” You nodded shakily, tears stil streaming down your flushed cheeks.

“Let me help you stand… there. Lord Diavolo, humans are fragile creatures, especially after such an ordeal. I trust you can calm her down?”

“Of course! Ah, Barbatos, would you mind getting some tea and possibly a bandage or two?”

“My thoughts exactly. I will be back promptly.”

Then the butler left the room.

Diavolo dabbed at his face with the shirt he’d discarded before getting into bed and turned to you. “MC, love, what happened?”

With a sob, you threw yourself into his arms, buried your face in his chest, and began to cry again. It was a terrible dream, all seven brothers and the rest of the devildom, including Barbatos had turned into zombies. After running and fighting for most of the dream, you and the Demon King had finally been cornered by an endless horde of zombies and slowly you realized there was no hope. Just as the brothers were about to pounce on your royal boyfriend, he’d looked behind him and said, “I’ll always love you my darling MC-” and that’s when a zombie grabbed you and started shaking you violently, effectively and abruptly rousing you and causing a minor panic attack.

Diavolo stroked your hair oh so gently until Barbatos returned with the tea and handed you a cup of the steaming, sweet-smelling liquid to calm your nerves. After taking a few teary sips, the warmth spread down to your toes almost immediately and you were able to stop crying.

“Talk to me,” He murmured, tilting his face to Barbatos while he cleaned and wrapped his wound, his amber eyes on you all the while, “What happened?”

“Bad d-dream,” You stuttered, clutching the delicate teacup with white knuckles, “The brothers got hurt, t-turned into zombies to be specific a-and it was just us but then they got you and Mammon started screaming a-and shaking me-”

“That was me, dove. I sincerely apologize, I didn’t know what was wrong, nor a way to properly handle it.” Diavolo brushed stray tears from your flushed cheeks and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, “Forgive me?”

You nodded, sighing with a body-wracking shudder and settled back into your boyfriend’s muscled arms.

“My Lord, in case this happens a second time, why don’t you ask MC how she would prefer to be roused from such a dream. These things can be traumatic for their minds, it’s best to put her at ease.”

“Indeed.” The tanned redhead nodded, holding out your empty teacup for the butler to refill, “Dearest, how can I help?”

Barbatos

Knows this happens to humans and wasn’t surprised when you had one only a few weeks into staying at the palace

Prolly read a book or seven to learn this human bs

You claimed it was only from your new surroundings at the breakfast table, as to but the Lord and his butler at ease, but Barbatos is very intuitive

In fact, he’d seen you walk from your bedroom to the bathroom, hugging a blanket around yourself and sniffling, looking very frightened for a reason he didn’t know

Now he did

Hmm

The next evening, around two in the morning, you come running out of your room crying, hoping to find someone, and eventually, you did

Thinking it was one of the brothers, you crashed into them, wrapping your arms around their waist and burying your face in their chest, crying stormily until you felt the demon awkwardly pat your head with a gloved hand

…

Lucifer didn’t wear his gloves to bed… did he?

Did he even go to bed in the first place?

Probably not

Since when did Mammon wear a tailored waistcoat to bed?

Levi smelled different too, more like tea leaves, dishsoap, and ink than the salty ocean and fabric softener you were used to

Satans forearms were thicker than these as well; hours of holding books to his face gave him a little muscle

Where was the gentle coo and giggle you always got when you snuggled with Asmo?

Where the pecs your head usually rested on when Beel gave you one of his otherworldly hugs?

Why wasn’t Belphie’s shaggy hair tickling your face?

Wait

You look up and to your horror and embarrassment, it’s Barbatos. Not Beel, or Mammon, or Asmo (who you had been hoping to see) instead, it’s an extremely handsome butler with a very concerned look on his face

“MC? What happened?”

“B-Barbatos! I-I I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” You begin to back away, stuttering and tripping over your words while tears continue to soak the collar of your nightshirt, but before you can escape, gentle hands stop you.

One slender, gloved hand cups your cheek, brushing away tears, and another gently holds the small of your back.

“It’s alright, no need to apologize,” He spoke softly as not to scare you any further, “Come with me, I’ll make us some tea.”

The butler wraps you in a blanket and makes you comfy on the couch in the sitting area before starting the hot water and returning to the room.

He stood in the doorway awkwardly until you asked in a tiny voice, “Would you… would you mind s-sitting with me?”

“Of course.”

Not too close at first, but eventually after you cuddle up to his side, Barbatos settles an arm around your shoulders and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What happened?”

“Um…” You kept your eyes downcast, knowing you’d told him your dreams weren’t a big deal, but he knew.

“Dreams again?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Tell me about this one.”

“You g-got crushed by a m-massive stack of papers a-and Lord Diavolo was just laughing. I couldn’t move, I-I wanted to help, I just-” You sighed, “Th-Then a big stack of paperwork started falling toward me too a-and I woke up before I got squished. I know it’s silly and ch-childish but it was terrifying. I hope I didn’t mess up your schedule.”

“That would be rather upsetting, I’m sorry MC,” He murmured, getting up for the whistling kettle, “But don’t think like that, it’s normal. One moment please.”

You nod and sink deeper into the luxurious warm cocoon the butler had made for you. He hands you a teacup and settles down next to you once again.

“Is there anything I can do to make these dreams stop?” He asks softly, dabbing your face with a handkerchief, “The Demon Lord requested for your utmost contentment during your stay, so-”

“C-Can I stay with you?” You blurted out, quickly taking a gulp of hot tea and instantly regretting it.

Even in the dim light, your convulsing form noticed a light pink tint on his cheeks as he rushed to get you water.

Simeon

He’d only ever known Luke to have nightmares (since he is baby) so you can imagine… 

Deadass, when he wakes up to you writhing around and screaming at two in the morning, he almost called an exorcist

…

In the devildom

Does anyone else see the irony-

Nevermind

“LUKE, SOLOMON! WHAT’S WRONG WITH MC??? SHE’S CRYING AND SCREAMING ALL OF A SUDDEN, I THINK A DEAMON GOT HER-” *heavy scared boyfriend breathing*

Solomon was kicking Luke’s ass at Uno (yes, at two in the morning) so both of them follow the distressed angel back to his room

You’re awake, curled up in a little ball against the headboard, rocking back and forth and crying into Simeon’s pillow

“MC?” Luke asks, a little scared as he approaches the bed.

You lift your head just enough to see his pretty baby face and then reach for him, caressing his cheek to make sure the tiny angel was really there

“You ok?” He murmurs, resting one of his smaller hand on your own, “Bad dream I’m guessing?”

You nod, lip trembling with emotion and residual fear, “Don’t go-” You begged, “I don’t know where Simeon went…”

“I’m here love, right here.” The taller angel now knelt down next to where Luke was standing, took your other trembling hand, and pressed comforting kisses to your knuckles.

You whisper a soft ‘thank you’ to Luke and Solomon as they take their leave. As soon as the door shut behind them, Simeon slid under the blankets next to you and let you attach yourself to him like a koala while his pretty nose fell into your messy locks.

Gradually, your breathing went back to its normal, comforting tempo and you began to melt into his embrace. He seemed to radiate warmth to the very marrow of your bones and soon, everything was ok again.

“What’s troubling you so, love? What caused this?” He asks, running slender fingers through your tousled locks.

“I don’t know,” You sigh, breathing in his heavenly musk, “I guess I’ve been a lot more stressed than usual. Exams are coming up and it’s hard to study when I’m at the brother’s beck and call since they can’t get along for more than 3 seconds. Plus, these classes are a lot more difficult than the ones we have in the human world.”

The angel nods, giving you a squeeze and a reassuring kiss to the crown of your head, “I can see why. Unlike you, most humans are very simple minded and plain dumb. I’ve already learned this material because of my ranking as an angel, so if you need a tutor, I’m here to help, sweetheart.”

“I’d like that.” You smile, tender aquamarine orbs meeting your own before closing and lips meeting for a slow, sensual dance of your unbounded love for eachother. Your interlocked fingers gave a squeeze before he released you, panting.

“Anything for my seraph.”

[inaure-forhalla]

because at this rate i will simply never have proper full written out bios for my muses, below the cut find some more detailed information about my muses that give you more info than just the vibey little blurbs i shat out at some ungodly hour of the day:

akllasqa mamani:

aklla is the daughter of a scientist that had all her titles stripped of her, and prohibited from working in the field after unethical experiments came to light. this doesn’t stop her from laying low and forming a personal lab, although under a watchful eye. she proceeds to learn and absorb all she can about genetic editing, and with the use of the CRISPR method and friends manning labs, she produces her own genetically edited egg. this is where aklla comes from, she’s planted in her mother’s womb and grows to be a girl who continues her life under a microscope. her mother is constantly poking and prodding at her, in a desperate attempt to note every deviation from regular behaviour from a girl who was tailored. aklla is diagnosed with anti social personality disorder in the future, and as a child is known to have conduct disorder. she’s been called a sociopath more times than she can count and is prone to sudden, and violent outbursts. all in all, a difficult teenager trying to maneuver through a society that works against anyone with any mental diagnosis.

jolene walsh:

honestly jolene’s the only one i have a full bio for, so because i’m lazy catch that here. 

vivian han:

vivian grows up in a house that values tradition, and in particular the image of a good family. her parents are not overtly religious, but they’re devout christian’s. they got married young, and without much thought and this leads to strife in their household. they start to fall out of love right in front of her eyes, but old time tradition and religious beliefs compel them to stay together despite divorce being the healthiest option for them both. being the oldest daughter in the house, vivian often has to play peacekeeper between her parents fights. she grows weary of it, but knows her options are limited. the older she gets, the more time she spends outside of the house. parties where the music is so loud she can’t hear her thoughts, she drinks away whatever she’ll have to face when she gets home. vivian is the fun girl, and the smart girl, and the party girl, and she does whatever she can to keep up every front she has. straight a student, but beloved by her peers. and only because she tries so hard. sometimes that comes with a small mean streak to be accepted by her peers, but she grows out of that quickly. guilt wears on her conscience heavily. an unhealthy relationship is all she knows as she grows up and so it leads her into her own. she dates a boy who becomes her ruin, but she tolerates it because that’s all she knows. she tolerates it even when he pushes her against a wall and she’s worried she has a concussion. he never hits her, and that’s his excuse. she files a restraining order after much thought and push from her friends. but it only makes her wild nights even worse, she has more pain to drink away now.

gabriel and ronan:

two boys that were once part of the same band, now leading two completely different lives. gabriel has always had his head in the clouds, always dreamt of life as a musician. his parents could do little to stop what his heart wanted. as a kid he’d play in shows any chance he got at school, and even kick started his own garage band with his friends. he never wanted to be the star of the show, gabriel was more than happy in the background. and that’s how he becomes the bass player of Golden Ours. he grew up in a bustling house that knew nothing about love, and it’s what he puts out into the world. his energy comes from genuine joy, and the desire to spread kindness. he’s a humble star from humble beginnings, and does his best to not let fame get to his head. naturally, there are slip ups, ones he does his best to hide. but all in all, he makes for pleasant company. not much tragedy in this one, rather typical if you ask me. 

ronan on the other hand grows up in completely different circumstances. the accident child of an alcoholic and a junkie, he never really knows stability in his life. his parents never have a good means to finances, and he picks up odd jobs as a kid to support himself if not his parents. he holds his father’s anger and defends himself after each bark and bite from his parents. he doesn’t grow up in a good house, and he doesn’t know if he likes them more when they’re sober or completely out of their minds. he swings a fist at this father at eighteen and is met with his ass on the curb. with little to nothing to his name, he sofa surfs as long as he can, gets himself jobs here and there, nothing that lasts too long. he comes across gabriel before the band hits the charts and it begins as roommates soon turned bandmates. he joins as lead guitarist. ronan’s one to butt heads with the band often, but at the end of the day, they’re family and family was meant to fight. but the disputes only heighten when ronan pushes them to take deals that come their way. change their look, change their sound, change change change for the mainstream media. they won’t take it, and so ronan does. leaves the band behind and embraces life as someone he doesn’t recognize in the mirror. he goes from alt indie rock to more mainstream pop rock. his manager decides what he wears, what he sings, what he signs up for. the money’s good, but he hates himself. but the money’s good.

mira deol:

mira lives a quiet life for the most part. second oldest daughter of five, their family is never without festivities. she’s a good student, not the top of her class, but trying. she sits in the middle of everything, never too loud, never too quiet. mira seems to breeze by life in the background and a part of her itches to be at the front of the show. she knows she’s not built for it, so instead she’ll smile and nod through it all. her life flips upside down, she becomes part of headlines when her family is killed at sixteen. in the middle of the night, the confront what they think to be a robber. her father and his broken english yelling downstairs, threatening to call the cops when a gun’s pulled out on them. mira, silent, watches from the top of the stairs while her entire family is sat down on the rug. one by one, they’re lined up and taken out with a single shot to the head. execution style. she scampers into a closet, and her hands search the dark floors for the gun she knows her dad has. and she sits there, as quiet as ever, hands shaking as she holds the gun in front of her. she thinks he’s left until she hears the creaks up the stairs and the closet door swings open. she closes her eyes and empties the bullets into her assailant without a second thought. mira’s found with blood, both her own and his, on her body. she hasn’t left the closet when they find her, a neighbour calls when they hear the last round of gunshots. her face takes the newspapers by storm and she’s a charity case. without any other family overseas, she moves in with her next door neighbours. a girl she knows from school. she suffers from traumatic mutism for a year. rehab and therapy get her to open up, and she cries anytime she speaks for another year. her life is spent in and out of therapy, and when she finally moves out and manages to get into university, she lives alone. everything about her life screams at her to live with company, but fear of what happens to company around her forces her into living alone. currently, mira is still healing. it’s been five years since her family’s death and she’s pushing herself back into society slowly. her emotions are hard to handle, and she’s incredibly clingy when she gets attached. 

buster jones:

buster lives a comfortable life. his parents work good jobs and they don’t expect much from him. as the youngest of a trio of boys, he’s the family’s baby for most of his life and he milks it for all it’s worth. he spends most of his time gaming, eating, or hanging out with friends. never the best student, but he manages to pull through with the tutors his parents throw at him a countless number of times. he doesn’t tell them that he’s paid kids to do his homework and essays, they don’t need to know that. but when both brothers leave the house, grow old enough to make it out on their own, the attention turns back to buster. buster who does nothing for the family but eat half the contents of their fridge, which can no longer be excuse as the appetite of a growing boy. so his parents make him take up a job, any job, they tell him, and so he goes to work at a mcdonald’s. he reckons it’ll be the least amount of effort he’ll have to put in, and impossible to get fired from. plus, free fries anytime he so pleased. he’s working through his last year of highschool, projected to have to take a fifth year if summer courses fail him. when he makes it to college he takes up criminal justice. not with the dreams of being a lawyer like his mother so hopes, but with the dream of getting into the fbi. only because it looks cool on television and he swears they know everything about area 51, and the gps’ that babies are injected with. an avid reader of conspiracies that he spouts like his life depends on it, what he doesn’t have in book smart, he also doesn’t have much in street smart. how buster makes it through the day, everyone wonders. but somehow he does.

elena castillo:

she grows up doted on. an only child, given the world at her every whim. her father loves her, her mother loves her, but doesn’t have to love as much since her father takes care of that part. her father dies when she’s eight, and her mother doesn’t take it well. elena had shown various talents at a young age, and the one her mother hones in on is her ability to skate. never having taken professional figure skating, her mother says it’s time for her to try. she doesn’t protest much, knows just how pushy her mother can be. she’s a good child for the most part, prone to temper tantrums, but mother knows best. elena’s mother focuses all her energy on her daughter, and it becomes obsessive. like a pageant mom, she signs her up for every competition under the stars. elena is bound to win most of them, and that’s because her mother doesn’t let her rest until she gets her routine down pat. elena’s perfectionism is taught and forced down her throat, it doesn’t come naturally. it doesn’t take long for the girl to embrace that figure skating has become her life. pulled out of classes on a whim just to participate in competitions, she learns how to catch up with classwork quickly without disappointing her mother. she never admits it, but she seeks validation from the one parent she still has. thinks maybe she’ll gain the same love she got from her father if she does it right. elena is quick to snap as she grows older. becomes her biggest critique, and with it comes a sharp attitude that she’s quick to lash out onto others. she projects her own insecurities, and drags people down to bring herself up. she’s now a professional figure skater, one of the best of her age at twenty. but it didn’t come easy, and she’s not willing to give it up easy. in front of the cameras and the crews she waves and smiles. once the lights drop, so does the facade and she doesn’t bother to lift a finger for anyone she deems not worth her time. she becomes more like mother, and over the years, they become more like partners than mother and daughter. their relationship is never healthy.

luciana pereira: prev lucarus

has the sexiest bio it deserves a read here

imogen, willa, devna mini bios coming soon !

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.IV: Danced of the Damned

pairing(s):  Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre:  Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, slight Fluff, eventual Smut

warning(s): Mature language, mentions of death, hints of traumatic experiences, blood, etc. 

word count: 5k

synopsis:  How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

You don’t know exactly what you were expecting to find in the archives of the Town Hall. Maybe a couple old files holding the ancestral information of Moon Dye or a couple ancient photographs where the faces are too blurred and rotted to recognize. Even the finding of a mere rusted pocket watch would have crossed your mind—not a thick registry stuffed full of unthinkable truths. 

In your defense, you just happened to stumble upon the records in the dank, dusty basement where the town’s archives stay. It was hidden in a secret compartment behind chalky boxes of cold cases that were forgotten a long, long time ago—how else were you to satiate your curiosity? Inside the mess of cobwebs and dust, there sat the information that would both make and break your sanity. 

And maybe if Jaebeom hadn’t approached you in that alleyway and confirmed your suspicions… your mind would have been able to come up with some sort of rationalization. 

“Look, I wanted to tell you so many times…” You can’t bring yourself to meet Mark’s gaze, finding more interest in swirling the contents of your untouched tea. Through the corner of your eye, however, you can see your companion feverishly shaking his head, “But knowing about me would put you in danger, (Y/N)... I couldn’t do that to you.” 

“That wasn’t your choice to make, Mark.” 

“I know that, but—fucking hell.” Mark buries his face in his palms, still rocking back and forth, “It shouldn’t be like this… God, I never wanted this—” 

“And you think I did?” You hiss, uncaring about the pure venom in your tone. “How the fuck am I supposed to process all of this? That vampires and werewolves and witches and probably goddamn pixies exist? That my best friend has magical powers and talks to the dead?” 

“I don’t—” Mark timidly shrugs, “talk to the dead…” 

“Well, at least there’s that much.” A heavy sigh passes from your lips, expelling barely any tension from your aching chest. You toy with the handle of your teacup before finally gathering the willpower to meet Mark’s eyes. His irises are wild and filled with all kinds of emotion, you immediately notice. Probably a mere reflection of your own. 

As much as you want to stay angry at your best friend—you physically can’t. No matter how many times your head and your heart go back and forth. Mark lied to you. Mark has been lying to you all this time. But something inside of you won’t let your eyes see past the genuine remorse and hurt written along his face. 

He’s still your best friend. 

Mark sighs, “What do you want me to do, (Y/N)?...” 

“I want you to tell me the truth—the whole truth.”

“I can’t do that,—” 

“I at least deserve that much, don’t you think?” Mark withers beneath your murmur, dragging a hand down his face with a frustrated breath. After another moment of silence that seems to stretch on for hours, Mark grabs a nearby bottle of bourbon, pours himself a glass and finally nods. 

“If I tell you everything, there’s no going back… Are you sure you’re okay with that?” 

“Not really, but I don’t have that choice anymore.” You hum. “I need to know.” 

Mark nods again. “Where do you want me to start?” 

“At the very beginning.” 

The way Mark throws back the alcohol sparks uneasiness in your gut, but not as much as the gloomy darkness that overtakes his gruff tone. 

“The main story begins with the first ever vampires that came into existence, known as the Prime Two…” Mark moves to pour himself another drink, but changes his mind and ends up drinking straight from the bottle. You wonder whether you should ask for a sip as well. 

“But you know them already… as Im Jaebeom and Park Jinyoung.” 

  ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

Youngjae releases a content breath as he steps into the warmth of the bookstore, effectively escaping the post-rain chill of the outside. He shakes the remaining coolness from his hands before heading toward the front counter, where Bambam is stationed flipping through a high-end fashion magazine. Youngjae fights the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Bam?” 

Bambam looks up at Youngjae’s voice. “Hey, man. What’s going on?” 

“I need your help.” Youngjae surveys the area of the store, checking down aisles and around corners for any signs of life. The racing of his heart somewhat slows at the lack of other customers, allowing him to turn back to the cashier and continue, “The coven is in danger. Nayeon-noona is dead.” 

“I heard about that. I’m so sorry, hyung.” Bambam nods his head, “What can I do?”

“Are you able to see an account of everyone who steps foot in this town? Visitors included?” 

“Yeah, I know some guys who can get whatever information you need. You feel like taking a trip up to the police station?” 

Youngjae hums in response, waiting patiently for Bambam to lock up the register. He watches the younger throw on his coat before meeting him behind the counter. With Bambam in tow, Youngjae leaves the comfort of the shop. After Bambam locks the door, the two continue through the cold in the direction of the police station. Youngjae again checks his surroundings, feeling more than just the chill of the air. 

“Did you… find what killed her?” 

“What?” 

Bambam repeats again a little louder. “Nayeon. Do you know what killed her?” 

“A hunter and another witch.” Youngjae explains, “We have records of them murdering countless covens before coming to Moon Dye.” 

“I may not know everything about this supernatural stuff, but don’t hunters hunt vampires...?”

“We’re not sure why either of them are specifically targeting witches.” Youngjae shudders, pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders. “I just hope we can find them before…” 

“Hey.” Bambam halts Youngjae’s pace with a hand on his arm. “We’re gonna find these douchebags and make sure they don’t hurt anyone else.” 

Youngjae weakly smiles. “Thanks, Bam.” 

“C’mon. I’m freezing my ass off.” Youngjae follows Bambam’s wishes and continues down the street, feeling less and less paranoid knowing the younger is by his side. Instead, Youngjae’s mind thinks back to your sudden entrance only mere minutes ago.

Youngjae wanted to stay at the mausoleum and help Mark deescalate the situation, but the older insisted that he continue the search. He can’t help but remember the betrayal across your features—the way you looked at him and Mark as if they were aliens. 

“Why did you give (Y/N) Mayor Bhuwakul’s old diary?” The question escapes Youngjae’s lips before he can stop himself. His inquiry visibly takes Bambam off guard, manifesting in the form of confusion along his features, before shifting to realization. 

“Because she deserves to know.” 

“But what about Mark-hyung? You know what this will do to him, right? To him and (Y/N)?” 

Bambam shakes his head. “I know Mark cares about (Y/N), and (Y/N) cares about Mark.” He peers at Youngjae through the corner of his eye and shrugs, “That’s not gonna change just because she knows the truth, hyung. I doubt that will ever change.” 

Youngjae doesn’t respond, keeping his eyes trained on the moving pavements at his feet. He knows Bambam is right, and knows both Mark and (Y/N), but something in his gut doesn’t feel right—like a sense that something is coming. 

Something bad… Something really, really bad. 

  ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ 

“So you’re telling me that not only are there vampires almost a thousand years old running around without a care in the world, but you’re also the leader of the town witch coven who protects Moon Dye from supernatural threats?” Mark nods at your recount, holding back a smile at the cute furrow in your eyebrows. “You realize how absolutely unreal that sounds? Right?” 

“You said you wanted the truth.” 

“I’m only slightly regretting that decision now.” You sigh, smoothing a hand over your scalp. Mark notices a stray hair fall across your forehead at your movement. He’s not sure whether it’s the light buzz radiating throughout his veins or the way your eyes seem to glitter in the sunlight, but his mind has to warn his hands to remain glued to the table. Still, Mark can’t help but feel disappointed as you brush the strand away. 

You shrug your shoulders, “How… How do you do it?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like…” Mark carefully watches your expression, noticing the slight tremor in your tone as you trail on. “How do you… do magic…?” 

“Well, there’s a bunch of ways.” He explains, “Spells. Potions. Channeling objects. Control of the elements. Some witches can even see events from the past, present or future.” 

“So you don’t wave around wands and ride on broomsticks?” 

The first genuine laugh leaves Mark’s lips for the first time tonight. “No. Though Youngjae did try to enchant his car to fly one time.” 

“Where does it come from? The magic?” 

“It’s dependent on the witch, and the type of craft they practice.” 

Not desiring to scare you off, Mark chooses to show a more modest example. He focuses his attention onto your cup, still full of now cold tea, and murmurs a quick incantation beneath his breath. Your entire body flinches as the glass lifts at least six inches off the table, enough to hover at the level of your eyes. After a couple seconds, Mark lowers the cup back into its original place. When he meets your gaze, he expects to see fear embedded beneath your irises, but it’s the opposite: 

You seem fascinated. 

“I usually practice Traditional Magic, so I use the Earth and other natural elements to amplify my magic.” Mark says, “Most witches are born with their own powers, but that’s not always the case. 

“Youngjae—take him as an example—is a Siphoner. In order to generate magic, he has to absorb it from other things, be it objects or people.” 

“So he… siphons magic?” 

Mark smiles. “Exactly. You’re catching on pretty quick.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far.” You shake your head, curiously peering down at the stationary teacup before returning your attention back to Mark. “When I read through that book in the archives, I saw something about Lycanthropes… Does that mean what I think it means?” 

“Werewolves.” He states matter of factly.

“They exist too then?” 

“You remember Kim Yugyeom? Bambam’s best friend?” 

You nod. 

Mark nods too. “He’s the second in command of Moon Dye’s pack. I don’t think you’ve met the new Alpha, Bang Chan.” 

“I’ve heard the name from some of my kids.” Mark can practically feel the exhaustion from your sigh. He debates the idea of reaching across the table to take your hand in his—the loneliness of your fingers spurring him on even more. Before Mark can make up his mind, you’re already withdrawing your limbs and hiding them in the comforts of your lap. 

“I just—I’m just having a hard time processing all of this.” 

Mark shakes his head, “It’s a lot to take in, (Y/N).”

“I know, but—” You pause to lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows in his direction with the beginnings of a scowl overtaking your lips. “I’m still pissed that you kept this whole other world a secret from me. I mean, for fucksakes, Mark, you’re my best friend.” 

“I’m—I was protecting you. Knowing this stuff exists doesn’t come without consequence, (Y/N).” 

“Stop saying that, oh my god—” Mark waits as you bury your face in your palms, deeply breathing through the divots of your laced fingers. After maybe a minute of silence, you raise your head and murmur, “What is it about me knowing that puts me in danger? I was nearly killed by that vampire without knowing shit.” 

A wince overtakes Mark’s features. “It’s complicated…” 

“I’m so sick of everyone using that excuse.” You hiss, “You don’t keep something like this from me, especially the fact that you’re—” 

“Do you know how Nayeon died?” Mark can see how his sudden question takes you off guard by the widening of your eyes and pursing of your lips. You take a few moments to collect yourself, right your expression, before answering: 

“She was… killed by an animal.” 

Mark shakes his head again. “No. Nayeon was murdered by a supernatural vampire hunter and another witch.” 

You blink. “B-But… was she a—?” 

“She was a witch—an innocent witch that never provoked, nor hurt anyone.” Mark leans forward until the edge of the table presses harshly against his ribs. The uncomfort does little to garner his attention—too focused on speaking to you with his desperate eyes. “This world—my world is dark, (Y/N). The creatures in my world are even darker, including me.” 

He pretends not to catch the brief wave of unease that washes over your face. 

“Right now, there are two fucking crazies in town out to kill me and my people.” Mark gulps at the stone long formed at the back of his throat. “If I lose anyone else, I—” Unable to finish his sentence, Mark shifts his focus. “I just need you to understand, (Y/N). Please.” 

“Mark—” Tremors shoot through his veins as your fingers latch around his wrist—the warmth of your touch sobering the last remnants of his mind. He has to hold back tears at the pure sympathy that resonates from your bright irises. “I understand, okay?” 

He nods, not trusting the quality of his voice. 

You softly squeeze his arm. “No more secrets though… Promise me.” 

“(Y/N)—” 

“Promise me.”   

Mark knows he shouldn’t, but the way you’re looking at him—so calm, yet so determined—the way you always look at him… He can’t do anything but give in. 

“I promise.” He murmurs, placing a hand over your own with a weak smile. “No more secrets.” 

You nod approvingly, offering up a smile of your own. Your lips part again, as if to ask another question, when a knock sounds from the door. Mark almost verbally protests when you pull away, but holds back his annoyance to answer the unexpected visitor with a silent sigh. However, he can’t hold back his scowl at the sight of Jinyoung on his doorstep. 

“Mark. It’s good to see you.” 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I apologize for my sudden visit, but I needed to talk to you about—” Jinyoung’s voice trails off, which Mark quickly realizes is because of your known presence. He watches, with narrowed eyes, as you and Jinyoung exchange an array of glances before he turns back to Mark. 

He shakes his head. “I didn’t realize you had company. I’ll come back—” 

“She knows.” An uneasy feeling erupts in Mark’s gut at the weak expression that crosses over Jinyoung’s face. He doesn’t like how Jinyoung looks at you again, nor the blank stare you offer the vampire in response. 

Jinyoung nods. “I see…” 

“What did you—?” Mark’s phone rings before he can finish his question, temporarily relieving him from the atmosphere of awkwardness and irritation. He steps aside to allow Jinyoung the space to enter while pulling his phone from his pocket. His eyes remain fixated on the interaction between both you and Jinyoung as he answers the call, lifting the device up to his ear. 

“Please tell me you and Bam found something.” 

“It’s not much, but we at least found a lead.” Mark breathes a sigh of relief at Youngjae’s answer. As to include both you and Jinyoung into the conversation, he turns Youngjae on speaker phone, avoiding the curious glint in your gaze.  

“There’s no record in the police database of any suspicious visitors entering town within the last few months, so we’re sure they probably got into Moon Dye undetected, or at least not on city file.” 

“How does that help us?” 

“You need to let me finish, hyung.” Mark can practically hear Youngjae roll his eyes over the line. “We may not have records, but some of Bam’s friends were able to look into the cameras stationed around the border of the road that leads into town. They caught footage of a bus dropping off two young women, who were then picked up by a 2018 BMW M6. We tried to track the license plate number, but the registration is private.” 

Jinyoung murmurs with a nod, “So someone who lives here in town brought them in. It’s possible we may be dealing with more than just a hunter and a witch.” 

“I don’t think so.” Youngjae disagrees, “The tracking spell would have picked up on every accomplice involved in Nayeon-noona’s murder.” 

Mark feels sick at the slight grimace that pulls across your features. He knows you're playing strong by the way you quickly mask your discomfort. 

“Anyway, we were only able to track the vehicle as far as Poison Square. But we do have the faces of the two young women that got off of the bus.” 

“That’s something then.” Mark sighs, sharing a wary glance with Jinyoung. “What do they look like?” 

“Both are probably somewhere in their early- to mid-twenties, have dyed blonde hair and are relatively around the same height.” 

Jinyoung shakes his head. “That could be anyone. Can you be more specific?” 

“The one woman has three distinguishing beauty marks: One on the bridge of her nose, another above her upper lips, and a third near the corner of her mouth.” 

“Shouldn’t the hunter have something on them? Like a mark?” 

“We wouldn’t be able to see the hunter’s mark.” Jinyoung shuts down Mark’s inquiry with a frown, “It’s only visible to other hun—” 

“This mark… Is it a tattoo, by any chance?...” Mark nearly flinches at your sudden question—Jinyoung almost doing the same. The latter resurrects from the surprise before releasing a hesitant answer: 

“Well, I’ve never seen it myself, but… yes.” 

“Oh my fucking god…” The pure shock that overtakes your face sends warning bells chiming through Mark’s mind. He sets the phone on the table before dropping to his knees in front of your sitting form, immediately noticing the trembling of your hands. Worst case scenarios play through his thoughts like creepy puppet shows, but he pushes them away to focus on you. 

“What is it?” 

When you meet his gaze, your eyes are wild with a blend of shock  and fright. Mark feels even sicker than before, and not because of the alcohol. 

You gulp. Not once. But twice. 

“I… I know who Nayeon’s killers are.” 

  ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Please, just let me go…” Jihyo sobs, hot tears beginning to spill down her burning cheeks. The rope around her wrists chafes uncomfortably at her skin, eating away at what little dignity remains in her heart. “I really don’t understand what you want from me…” 

Momo releases a huff—the sight and sound mirroring a dragon blowing smoke through his nostrils. Jihyo watches through terrified eyes as Momo paces across the living room floor, feverishly shaking her head and mumbling incoherencies underneath her breath. The fear continues to grow when Momo stomps to where Jihyo is frozen stiff on the sofa. 

“How many fucking times do I have to repeat myself?” Momo growls, shoving her tattooed arm in Jihyo’s face. “You see this mark, then you’re a hunter. It’s not rocket science.” 

Jihyo weakly shakes her head. “You’re sick, Momo… Th-This whole thing about vampires and witches and hunters doesn’t exist…” 

It’s a lie—Jihyo knows in her heart that a part of her, a very stupid part of her, believes every little detail that has left Momo’s lips. Some of it makes too much sense not to be true: The sudden animal attacks. The mysterious disappearances. The unexplained instances she’s had ever since she moved to Moon Dye Bay. 

“I told you that—”  

Momo’s voice cuts out at the sound of a slamming door. For a moment, hope swirls through Jihyo’s gut, thinking that either Sana or (Y/N) must have come to her rescue, but the burst vanishes at the sight of Mina stepping into view—Jihyo’s fear instead skyrockets. 

Momo said she’s a witch. 

“What is going on here?” Mina demands, her tone stern and expression cold. Momo only smiles in response. 

“Sister!” She skips over to the newcomer, delicately taking Mina’s hands into her own. The act actually surprises Jihyo, not expecting the supposed, rather sadistic hunter to be capable of such affection. “Jihyo can see my mark! She’s a hunter just like me, sister!” 

Mina immediately tears her hands away, glaring at her sister with such bewilderment and venom. “Are you out of your damn mind!?” 

“Wh-What do you mean?” 

“Jihyo cannot be involved in any of this!” Goosebumps rise over Jihyo’s skin at the hidden darkness beneath Mina’s words. Her eyes glance toward the hallway, wondering the success rate of being able to reach the front door without alerting either sister. “Do you not remember what happened last time you tried to train another hunter?” 

“Things will be different this time. I am stronger now—we are stronger.” “You don’t know that for sure.” 

“Think of how easy it will be to take out the rest of Tuan’s coven with another hunter on our side, sister.” Momo persists, striking more panic through Jihyo’s already stocked body. Against her better judgement, Jihyo tries to escape her rope bindings… and unsurprisingly, fails. 

Mina shakes her head furiously. “Tuan and his witches have sided with one of The Prime brothers. We can’t risk killing another member without putting our own lives in danger—”

“All the more reason to take on another hunter.” Jihyo shrinks in on herself as Momo grabs Mina’s hand and leads her to her prisoner on the couch. “Please, sister. Think about what those witches did to us—about mother and father.” 

Silence, save for the hum of rushing blood in Jihyo’s ears, hangs in the air, thick like a pool of humid fog. Like Momo, Jihyo carefully watches Mina’s expression, searching for any features that may determine the underlyings of her fate. 

“So many lives we’ve already taken for mother and father.” Mina pulls her hand free from Momo’s and shakes her head. The rope seems to dig harder into her wrists—as does the terror in her chest when Mina murmurs her next words: 

“When will it ever be enough for you, sister?…” Jihyo’s gaze remains transfixed on Mina as she makes her way back through the kitchen, pausing to offer the bound woman an apologetic glance. “I’m so sorry you were brought into this… but I’m even more sorry that you’ll have to die because of it…” 

Whatever remaining hope inside Jihyo snaps as Mina throws her one last pitiful smile before rushing out the apartment—leaving Jihyo to the mercy of her deranged sister. 

  ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung closely watches how your fingers seem to cling to Mark’s hands as you think over your words, almost as if his mere touch is enough to keep your mind grounded. And though he’d never admit it aloud… Jinyoung feels envy that Mark is the one who’s comforting you. 

“Mina and Momo are friends of Sana from when they were in high school.” You explain, peering between both Mark and Jinyoung’s curious expressions. Though Jinyoung notices how your gaze seems to avoid his seeking eyes. “I don’t know anything about them beside the fact they’re foster sisters, and they had a pretty shitty time in the system.” 

“Then how are you so sure it’s them?” Youngjae inquires, still over the phone. “And how did you know about the hunter’s mark?” 

You pause, and based on your expression, Jinyoung would guess you’re almost reluctant to answer his questions. He moves to soothe your uneasiness, but Mark beats him to it: 

“We have to know, (Y/N)... It’s important.” 

Jinyoung’s jealousy expands at the intimate glance you and Mark share. 

After another moment of quiet and a heavy sigh, you finally speak, “The other day, I heard Jihyo comment on a tattoo that Momo had—but there was no tattoo. Neither Sana nor I saw one, so I just thought Jihyo was imagining things until…” 

“Until now.” Jinyoung finishes. He inhales an unsteady gust of air, carding his fingers through his styled hair, and shakes his head with a solemn expression, “(Y/N)... For Jihyo to be able to see Momo’s hunter mark would mean she’s a—”

“We have to warn the others.” Mark interrupts Jinyoung, suddenly rising to his feet. “Youngjae, give a call to Lia, Jisung and Minho and tell them to get their asses over here as soon as possible.” 

“Already done, hyung. I couldn’t reach Minho, but I left several voicemails and dozens of texts.” 

“I’ll start on that linking spell we talked about. This ends tonight.” Mark lifts his phone from the tabletop, readying his thumb to tap the end call button. “Get here safe, okay?” 

Youngjae hums. “Fifteen minutes. Maybe ten.” 

“See you soon, Youngjae.” No sooner had Mark ended the call does your voice sound: 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? ‘This ends tonight’?” 

Mark shakes his head. “(Y/N)—” 

“No. I want to know what that means.” You abruptly rise, sending your chair sliding across the wood floor with a shriek. Jinyoung waits for Mark to come up with an answer, secretly enjoying the obvious discomfort amongst his features, before answering himself after maybe a minute of radio silence: 

Jinyoung places a hand on your shoulder. “It means we do what we have to do to keep everyone safe. Including you and the town.” 

“But you won’t… kill them? Right? I mean, there’s-there’s other ways that don’t have to end with anyone dead, right…?”

“I don’t know.” Jinyoung murmurs honestly, “If they’re willing to talk, then maybe. But if it comes down to it—” 

“Please, don’t…” His heart practically breaks at the shakiness of your tone. “Just—do anything you have to, but don’t kill them…” 

Mark raises an eyebrow with a scowl, “They’ve killed dozens of innocent people, (Y/N). If anything, they deserve to die.” 

“Maybe…” You shake your head. “But killing them would make you no better than them.” 

Jinyoung feels as if you just punched him in the gut with your words. He has to let go of your shoulder to reach back and support his weight against the table, suddenly dizzy and light-headed.

“We’ll…” Mark sighs, “We’ll try our best, okay?” 

You nod before wiping your palms against the side of your jeans. 

As you and Mark engage in another round of small talk, Jinyoung tries to settle the nauseous feeling in his gut and focus on anything other than the fragrant waft of your scent. He knows he would never hurt you—his self control is too grand to allow anything like that—but the lack of human blood is beginning to affect him again. For the worse. 

Usually Jinyoung is able to hold his own with only a couple droplets of animal blood every few days or so. However, his strength and other abilities have long depleted since he began this strict diet, and while he may not be anywhere near desiccation—Jinyoung is certainly hungry. And weak. Very, very weak. 

He just hopes he will be able to withstand the upcoming battle. 

“But I want to help!” 

“And the answer is no fucking way. Absolutely not.” Jinyoung returns to reality just in time to see Mark shake his head indignantly toward your seething figure. Since then, he notices the two of you have moved to a nearby lectern, where Mark is currently flipping through a large grimoire.

“I can help, I mean—Mina and Momo know me and I swear I can—” 

“It’s not fucking happening.” Mark growls, slamming the book shut and leering down at you with a sneer. Jinyoung catches how your face doesn’t falter in the slightest at his angered expression. 

With a single finger, you poke Mark’s chest. “I’m not just going to sit back and watch while you and your damn wizard gang go and play hocus pocus with a pair of killers.” 

“It’s too dangerous—!” 

“Do I look like I fucking care!? Didn’t think so!” 

Jinyoung steps in, making sure to keep his tone calm so as to not infuriate you anymore. “Mark is right, (Y/N). I’m sorry—but you’d only be a liability for us to keep track of.” 

Your expression hardens. “A liability—? Are you serious?” 

Mark doesn’t spare a second glance in your direction and instead turns to Jinyoung. He points toward the countertop behind the vampire, “Can you grab the bowl that’s there? The one from yesterday’s ritual?” 

“So that’s it then?” Jinyoung  grabs the silver bowl filled with dried blood and the charm bracelet as you continue to rant, and hands it to Mark. The witch immediately dips two fingers into the crimson liquid, closes his eyes and begins to murmur a hushed incantation. 

You shove at his shoulder. “Mark? Are you kidding me?” 

“(Y/N), please—” Jinyoung steers you away from the witch, forcing himself to keep strong underneath your icy stare. “It’s for your own good…” 

With a clenched jaw and sparkling eyes, you shake your head. For a moment, Jinyoung hopes you’ll simply turn on your heel and leave the tense atmosphere of the mausoleum, but as always—you surprise him. 

“You know, I let your and Mark’s lying about everything slide because I wanted to move past it—for a fresh start.” You lean closer until Jinyoung can practically taste your minty breath on the tip of his tongue. “But you two are still treating me like some sort of princess that needs to be protected.

“And you know what, Jinyoung?” Your hiss strikes something deep inside Jinyoung’s soul—something even he can’t place. “I’m no princess. And I don’t need to be protected. You’ll do best to get that shit through your head.” 

Neither Jinyoung nor Mark try to stop you as you stomp out the door. 

Jinyoung bites his lip before turning to Mark. “Are we… doing the right thing?” 

“I don’t know.” Mark replies, and for once, Jinyoung can relate to the lost tinge in his tone. 

“I really don’t fucking know.” 

[doingthingsthewriteway]

Thorns pt. 2

Summary: Dom realizes that magic is most certainly afoot in the castle and he definitely should not have gone to the west wing. 

Warnings: 

The suite was far nicer than any room he had stayed in before. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting little rainbows of light onto the powder blue walls. Golden accents were scattered across the room, dull from years without care, but still impressive nonetheless. 

Dom awoke with a start. His eyes, puffy from crying all night, slowly adjusted to the light that seemed to pour into this suite. From what he had seen of the castle the night before, this amount of sunlight seemed very unusual. He sniffled once or twice before sitting upright in bed. 

“Ah, you’re awake!” The door to his suite swung open revealing a young woman with light brown skin and long curling red hair. “I’ve brought goodies!” 

It was far too earlier and he was still far too traumatized to really care about goodies. The only good thing would be the ability to leave. So, he settled with a grunt of acknowledgement in hopes that would speed up whatever exchange this was going to be. 

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the young women bent forward in a bow, “I’m Ashley, resident witch and homemaker here.” Upon her return upright, she flourished a cup and saucer filled with tea and milk just the way he liked it. 

With a quirked brow, he stared at the cup in his hands. “Princess poisoning me already?” 

Ashley laughed, a sound Dom had to admit was certainly not unpleasant to hear. “She’s harmless.” She added under her breath, “most of the time.” 

Dom let out a sound of disbelief as he raised the cup to his lips to sip. Smelled fine. Tasted even better. He reckoned it was fine to finish the cup. Ashley seemed content by this and went about the room flicking and swishing her wrists or muttering little versus of latin? He didn’t know, never paid enough attention in school. 

The room tended to itself, inanimate objects suddenly coming to life and cleaning the room at her command. She hummed softly as she entered the wardrobe and pulled out a variety of clothes. “Haven’t had a guest like you in ages.” 

“Hard to imagine why.” 

The mood in the room shifted making the large ensuite suddenly feel two sizes too small. “I assure you, Dom, that things are not as they appear. When it’s right, you will learn what you need.” 

Ashley threw a wad of clothes his way. “This shirt and pants should fit you just fine. Harry’s got some suspenders should you want to wear those.” She collected her things and lingered by the door. “Well don’t just lay there, get dressed and follow me! Breakfast is served.” 

Stumbling into the hallway, Dom frantically tucked in his shirt as he struggled to keep up with Ashley. The people here were absolutely mental-hot as hell, absolutely gorgeous- but mental. Keeping him prisoner and now serving him breakfast? Nuts. 

The kitchen was not as staffed as he would he assumed. He was certain the pub back in the village was more staffed with bar maids than this. The village. Just the smallest thought of home sent a pang through him that made his eyes water. No, he couldn’t think of home, couldn’t allow himself to fall apart in front of these people, that would have to wait until he could return to his room. 

Tucking in at a table with Ashley, he watched as Harry all but floated into the room. Everyone turning to the long haired man with respect, admiration, and certainly lust. “Bonjour mi amors!” 

Settling in next to Dom, Harry offered a cheeky grin. “And how is our guest doing today?” 

“Our guest thought the princess was poisoning him with his tea.” 

“Our guest would like to not be talked about like I’m not bloody here!” 

The other two laughed at Dom’s outburst. “Of course.” Harry paused for the briefest of moments. “How would you like a tour of the castle? I’m sure Ashley would be happy to provide it. “

He got the feeling the tour was nonnegotiable, no he complied. Harry downed a cup of coffee quickly before assembling breakfast (duplicates of everything) on a tray. If Dom noticed that some of the bacon seemed a little underdone he said nothing and waved as Harry scurried off. 

“He and the princess eat every meal together.” Ashley whispered in Dom’s ear, tickling the hair that fell around it. “But that is none of our business, no? Come let’s go explore.” 

Dom took her outstretched hand and relished in the comfort of another human touch. 

----

Harry pushed the trolly into the master chambers. Y/N was already up, wearing nothing but a deep red silk robe. “Good morning, love.” 

“It took ten minutes longer to shift back this morning.” Y/N turned to face Harry, eyes wild in panic. “I’m getting worse.” 

Strong arms held her tightly, “I’m not going anywhere. None of us are.” 

She still trembled ever so slightly as they tucked into breakfast. “How’s the prisoner?”

Harry through her a pointed look. “Dominic is doing just fine. Ashley has given him so clothes and they’re eating breakfast together as we speak.” 

“He’s a prisoner.”

“He’s a guest.” 

“No, for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t you want to be happy!” Harry hadn’t meant to yell, to poke the beast that lay beneath her. 

“I’ve accepted my fate it’s time you do to.” Y/N wiped her chin, the blood from the bacon staining her skin ever so faintly. 

“Well, princess, I’m nothing if not persistent.” He poured another cup of tea before he collected the plates. “I’m going to give our guest the grand tour, I’ll see you for lunch my lady.” 

Harry left with his trolley, bumping into Ashley and Dom in the kitchen. “Just the couple I was looking for. I’m going to put these away and offer you the grand tour.” 

“Oh joy. Showing off the capitalistic bullshit of royals.” 

Snickers were stifled behind coughs. Dom reminded them so much of the Y/N before the curse, the gentle one that was passionate about the rights of others. That was the Y/N they hoped to have back someday. 

Dom appeased the overly eccentric Ashley and Harry if only to better his chances of leaving. He couldn’t deny the beauty of the castle. It was impressive in a way that was terrifying. The sheer power that seeped through the walls and the endless portraits and armor. 

“And here we have my portrait, commissioned after my first concert for the family, I don’t think they got my nose right it looks rather phallic.” 

Dom couldn’t give a damn of the portrait. He was much more intrigued by the dark and looming west wing. “What’s there?”

Ashley’s eyes grew wide. “No, that’s just...”

“Storage!” Harry sang with a big swooping gesture. “We LOVE storage, can’t get enough. Any who, let’s continue to the grand lavatory I had an orgy there once.” 

An orgy did sound fun, Dom wasn’t one to discriminate. But the dark looking west wing was clearly more exciting. Silently, he slipped away from the duo, carefully running up the stairs to the west wing. 

“Bloody hell.” He swore under his breath, nudging the stiff door open. The room, which clearly wasn’t used for storage, was in tatters. Drapes were torn with long slashes. 

“Storage my ass.” He grumbled entering the room fully. Eyes immediately drawn to the fine portrait on the wall. 

A crash of thunder startled him, but didn’t distract him from his stare. There were three people in the painting, two faces apparently burned away, one slashed through. Tenderly, he pieced the face back together, gasping at the face of Y/N at a younger age. Beautiful, gently, eyes warm and a smile on her face. Nothing like the women who locked him up. 

Venturing further, he saw it. A rose encased in glass. It was a beautiful rose, or had been at one point. Petals littered the area surrounding the thorns. The hell? He didn’t know. 

His fingers picked up the glass without thought-

“What the hell are you doing here?!” The princess rushed toward him grabbing the glass and placing it back over the rose immediately. “Are you trying to damn us all?” 

“I-” Dom backed into the room, edging closer to the door to leave. Y/N looked practically feral. Eyes blown wide, chest heaving, body shaking. 

“Leave!” Y/N approached him closer. “Go!” She was growling now. 

Dom didn’t need to be told twice. He turned and quickly rushed out of the room, flying past Harry and Ashley. 

“Where are you going?” “Wait!” Their cries fell on deaf ears. All Dom could hear was his heart pounding out of his chest. 

Harry called for the doors to be locked but Dom managed to squeeze out and turn toward the stables. Grabbing Bubba and his reigns, he wiped away a tear he didn’t know he shed. 

“C’mon Bubba, we’re getting out of here.” 

[pan0ramy]

after really thinking it over for a while and trying to get over how nervous i am... i kinda want to join in on this whole community revival thing. i’m by no means as attached to sean’s content as i was back in 2016/2017, but it doesn’t change the fact that this community was a big part of my life. so, why not, right?

name: amy

pronouns: she/her

country: ireland

how did you start watching sean? i started watching his videos after coming across little inferno. i wanted to learn more about the game, went onto youtube to look for videos, and saw sean's - i thought his thumbnails were colourful & pretty, so i clicked into one of them. i then ended up watching the whole series from start to finish and found him hilarious, so i basically stuck with his content from there on out.

how did you find the community? from what i can remember, i think i joined tumblr naturally, since to 16 year old me, that's where all the Nerdy™ stuff was. i'm pretty sure i just ended up coming across the #jacksepticeye tag out of curiosity, and once i saw people making art, theories and stories, it snowballed from there.

your favourite thing about the community? as someone that's never had the largest friend group, seeing some kind of hint or suspicious clue pop up in a video and immediately coming on here to see everyone screaming over it was an absolute joy. for once, i felt like i wasn't the only person who noticed these little tidbits or found them interesting, which like i said, wasn't something i was used to. it really made it feel like a community, or just a big house that we all lived in where we started yelling every time something suspicious happened lol

has the channel/community or sean helped or changed you? 

(a small heads up: there are slight mentions of bad mental health here, but i don’t go into any detail.)

absolutely, both in good and... admittedly less good ways. i'm not going to go into the bad here, because 1) that's not what this revival is about and 2) it's extremely personal stuff that i don't even tell my closest friends about (and also why i'm so nervous to post this). but if i hadn't come across sean's channel when i did, 16-year old me probably wouldn't have known how to cope every day. the daily uploads (while they lasted) gave me something to look forward to as i struggled with school, mental health and losing friends. and eventually, the ego theorising and community fires were such a staple in my life that really made me feel excited and involved. it was amazing for what it was.

favourite inside jokes/memes: ...is it selfish for me to include a meme that i posted here? back when i edited together that video of the gamecube intro with a clip from say goodbye, i posted it on here without expecting much of a reaction - but then, seeing everyone either laughing their ass off in the notes or yelling at me asking me how i could do such a thing summed up just how crazy and wonderful this community could be. it was something so small, and such a spur of the moment thing for me to create, but it caused such a reaction with people that i still don't quite feel like i deserved haha

(but in terms of actual jokes on the channel, the subnautica nostalgia week video recently proved to me that the deep dark down deep dark is probably my favourite joke sean's ever made. honourable mention to the single most traumatic characters i’ve seen on the internet: \zoom)

things outside of the channel that you love: you could ask me this question every single day and my answer would probably change every time lol. as iffy as it can be to say this in... certain parts of the internet, kpop is a massive hobby and interest of mine, especially when it comes to collecting albums and photocards. it's something i only started about a year ago, but i absolutely love it and it brings me so much happiness. outside of that, i adore video games in general, with xenoblade chronicles and hades being my absolute favourites. and while we're on the topic, may i just say that you really should play hades cause it's insanely fucking good okay thanks ilu bye

have you made friends here yet? yes, and i feel awful because if i was better at keeping in touch i'd probably have more friends here lol. there's a lot of people in this community who i am very lucky to even call myself an acquaintance of, or to even have talked with at some point, and even if we don't talk now, i still care about a great deal of people here.

are you open to messages or new friends? always! i may be a little slow to reply, but my DMs are always open should you need to chat, ramble or vent about whatever's on your mind.

anything to add? henrik von schneeplestein best boi. that is all.

[adventure-hearts]

want to know your thoughts on sora's decision to not take part in battles/fighting anymore. do you agree with her decision? based on the spoilers, it's said that she is the only one not to lose her consciousness & taken to menoa's neverland. the spoilers also said that sora & piyomon do nothing at all. for me, i'm ok if sora & piyomon are excluded since it is her decision & i respect that.

It took me a while to answer this question, because I wanted to know the actual contents of the movie and the novel, rather than form an opinion based on spoilers alone.

I think now I have enough data to answer!

First, of course I’m disappointed that Sora does nothing in the actual film. By nothing, I mean fuck all. In the novel, except for the sequence that is directly taken from the short film and not part of the film, Sora has basically a cameo. She doesn’t appear in the Neverland sequence, and although she is the first to lose her partner, her reaction is not shown or addressed. I’m not surprised by this (it’s inevitable that some characters will be ignored when you have a 12-member cast), but it’s still a sad development for the character.

Than being said, the short was lovely and it did make up for the crappy treatment Sora got in Kizuna! Of course Sora’s exclusion was made to serve the format of the movie and the reality of now having 14 main characters, but I’m really grateful that they managed to find a thoughtful, organic explanation for why she isn’t there. (Unlike the previous films.)

I think the most important thing to take from Sora’s decision is that it’s a massive step for the character. Sora is someone who has lived her entire life under other people’s expectations, doing what was supposed to do rather than what she really wanted. (Supressing her will until it comes out as anger or rebellion). She didn’t chose to be born as iemoto Crown Princess. She sure as hell didn’t decide to become a Chosen Child. But, nevertheless, until now, she accepted those roles and fulfilled them to the best of her ability.

It’s clear that Sora was under pressure from both sides, and that neither activity would be necessarily her first choice. 

Being a Chosen and fighting was clearly hard on Sora. Already in Adventure, you start to see that she crumbles under the pressure to do well and to fulfill her role in the group. She isn’t like Taichi and Yamato, who get energized by being in the centre of battle, or like Koushirou, who thrives from finding solutions to these problems.

Let’s not underestimate the amount of emotional labor Sora had to perform as a Chosen Child all the freaking time, meaning she basically had to deal with everyone else’s emotional troubles in addition to her own. Moreover, apart from the general traumatic experience that was the whole 1999 experience and other battles since then, Sora had some terrible shit happening to her during their adventures, the type of things than can probably cause long-term trauma and fear:

being kidnapped (and almost cloned) by an evil Digimon;

watching her best friend die in front of her eyes not once but twice;

being assaulted by Mystery Man (a teenage girl being pinned down and licked by a grown ass man… how else are you supposed to read that???)

being separated from Piyomon a bunch of times;

literally falling into a dark cave;

constantly having to suppress her negative feelings because her job is to keep everyone safe and motivated plus a constant sense that her friends don’t really do the same for her;

etc etc etc

Can anyone blame Sora for wanting to be a normal girl after 10 years of being some kind of child soldier?

As for Ikebana, it isn’t that Sora doesn’t like it. In fact, it was shown that initially she was only rejecting it because of troubles in her relationship with her mother, and she actually came to enjoy it. 

The problem is the pressure that comes along with it. The short illustrates this beautifully — Sora has to dedicate all her time to Ikebana, because she doesn’t want to produce anything unworthy of a Grand Master’s daughter, and she still feels she isn’t good enough. Trying to succeed in something while being under he constant shadow of a parent who’s excellent at it is never easy. 

Over all, the feeling I got from the short is that Sora is approaching it out of a sense of duty and it is not longer fun, or even rewarding, for her. Especially if it means that, after graduating from college, she was supposed to go straight into the Ikebana business, which won’t let pursue her own dreams, the things she truly wanted to do and won’t even reveal to Piyomon...

So: Sora’s reasoning was perfectly understandable and it shows both self-awareness and courage. It’s literally Sora doing something she never does: putting herself first. Choosing do to things her way, rather than out of a sense of responsibility or obligation for others.

It doesn’t even come across as “Sora sitting out while her friends suffer”, because before she can try to help, the consequence of her decision is that Piyomon disappears (another cruelty resulting from being a Chosen Child, which Sora will have to deal with later…). 

Sora retiring is unfortunate for us fans, since it means that she will probably never get centre stage again if any future installments ever happen. But, on the other hand, it’s the start of her building a great, independent future and why the Epilogue shows her as happy and fulfilled woman.

[disasterganes]

do you mind going further on the "bryke is trash" point? i may have liked a:tla and thought a:tlok had issues, but i feel like i'm missing info or haven't thought about certain things critically enough.

i will definitely do my best -- full disclosure it’s been years since i’ve come into Close Contact™ w/ k*rra, so feel free to take with a grain of salt. it’s just my opinion, and it’s a heightened opinion because i was B I G into the fandom & show when it was dropping. i had a friend group formed through atla / k*rra before it launched, it was a real cornerstone of my online life so of course i took its bad writing way more personally than a more casual fan. i also can’t watch a show as a show? i’ve done too much work (undergrad & graduate) in writing & narrative studies, so i can Only See Story -- when it falls apart, i can’t get past it. 

behind the scenes, atla likely triumphed because it was a team effort, and a bit of a first effort. not that these people hadn’t written before -- but part of what k*rra suffers from is the “how do we level up” problem that is typically answered (esp by white male writers) with make it darker. atla shone because it didn’t need to darken its tone in order to convey a more serious story -- it had room to breathe and a gentler humor that never really felt malicious in the way lok would feel malicious at times. atla was content to be what it was -- lok was always trying to be grittier than it had to be, given how well atla conveyed its difficult themes with a lighter hand. 

anyway! two parts: shitty writing, & racism. 

abandoning its premise 

my biggest pet peeve is when a show sets up something -- and doesn’t deliver. it’s why i noped out literally s1. (and, of course, kept up quietly from the sidelines bc once i start something i’m physically incapable of letting it go. but emotionally i was gone.) in its first two episodes, lok had incredible worldbuilding. it was beautiful! well drawn! interesting! organic to the world atla built! there were problems introduced that were new and different from atla. atla read a lot like a sprawling, classic hero’s quest. falter, then triumph. lok was more intricate. in its first two episodes, it posed a question: how do you navigate heroism in a world where heroism has been redefined? how do you balance staying true to yourself and allowing yourself to grow, under the scrutiny of the “celebrity” of avatardom? and how do you perform as an avatar, the person meant to keep the balance of the spirit world, when the mortal world is out of balance? this could have been four series’ worth of content. there was enough rich, complex worldbuilding in the first episode to sustain four seasons of a show. 

and then they just -- forgot about it. it was set dressing, and every half a season they artificially upped the stakes. nothing was organic to the world or the story. it was all some -- contrived plot. the conflict between benders and nonbenders could have been really interesting and then it was just -- black and white. here and gone. k*rra’s too brash and bratty to understand! and nonbenders don’t matter anyway! let’s forget about this plot and skip to some !! uh !! political upheaval! and then like! assassins and genocide or smth!! haha yeah big fights! 

it was so shallow, and that’s not how the show started. in the first seven episodes, i thought i’d called the overarching. i thought the show would spend however much time it had (initially, bryke said they were only doing two seasons to “focus on a tight story” and, like a fool, i believed that this wasn’t just a cash grab :/) setting up this story: k*rra will unlock her full potential when she realizes that it’s not just the spirit world that needs an avatar, but the mortal world as well. 

that’s it! that’s all you need! it’s a similar premise to atla but it expands atla. i distinctly remember the quote from one of those s1 episodes, where a nonbender says, “but you’re our avatar too.” that’s it. that’s the show. you have a show!! you have equalists, you have a bender-centric world, you have progress at the expense of those that can’t fit this new world’s design -- and then the equalists are all fake and we’re going to just brute force a solution and move onto the next crisis. 

... what ?? what put the nail in the coffin for me was when the gang or crew whatever the fuck they were (spoiler alert: they were nothing, none of them liked or cared about each other) were being aided by a homeless community or w/e and b*lin jokes about a “wise and noble hobo.” this orphan. who grew up homeless. and has built himself up from nothing with his only family left. is not utilized by the writers to comment on the epidemic of poverty, homelessness, and very thinly veiled racism / ableism (another spoiler alert: don’t expect white dudes to write a coherent metaphor for a real world issue). this was the opportunity for actual depth and even darkness -- below the glittering world of republic city is a serious problem that “”””defeating the fire lord”””” won’t solve. this is a mature and complex story, and it was never ever explored. in fact, in s2 that rich dude asks b*lin if he’s “ever seen the arena at night.” and b*lin says no. the, uh, the arena he lived in bc he was homeless and crushed under the wheel of this new society. 

what ,, the fuck ,, bryke. 

it’s the problem where a writer is constantly trying to outdo themselves -- and they sacrifice the story they could have had. the actually mature one. it’s a problem of thinking fight scenes and a villain Bigger and Badder than the last constitutes grittiness or maturity or w/e. (spoiler alert again: it doesn’t.) 

torturing k*rra 

atla was a story about raising a*ng up. lok was a story abt breaking k*rra down. 

shitty writing is one thing. racist writing is another. from the fucking moment she’s on screen, k*rra is told that she’s too much -- she’s too confident, she’s too loud, she’s too stubborn. and maybe she’s confident, loud, and stubborn, but the narrative does nothing but punish her for this. 

a*ng is a flawed character. a*ng runs away from his responsibility and, subsequently, the fire nation takes over the entirety of the known world. do i blame a*ng for this? absolutely not. and neither does the narrative -- not in a way that counts. people in the story do, but does the narrative beat him bloody? no. the narrative gives him friends. the narrative gives him room to make mistakes and then apologize for them. the narrative lets him learn without making his failures into something that he is literally tortured over. he struggles, but in his worst and most dire situations -- his friends are there. when he dies, it’s not shown in all of its gory details, and in a beautiful, quiet scene, k*tara heals him with spirit water. they stay by his side, and a*ng is given love, care, and support. 

k*rra is constantly, viscerally tortured on screen. k*rra is blamed, threatened, abandoned, poisoned, and temporarily disabled. k*rra is treated like a punching bag in direct response to her supposed “flaws.” we know this to be true because she “learns” from these moments of being violated, abused, and tortured -- the narrative tells us that she had to go through hell, on her own, in order to “learn humility.” 

why did k*rra, a brown girl, need to learn humility? when did she ever come across as someone who couldn’t learn, given the kind of time and space that a*ng had? why were her lessons literally beaten into her, while a*ng’s were simply a process of trial and error, with his friends at his side every single step of the way? 

people will always argue that it’s not so bad, that it’s not necessary to be as gentle with k*rra. but tell that to young brown girls watching this incredible, smart, kind, strong brown heroine get physically and mentally assaulted and broken down in order to properly “serve and save the world.” that shit? that shit’s traumatizing. k*rra is treated like garbage by m*ka, by as*mi, and by the entire world -- she is killed and tortured and isolated, and she is still expected to be grateful for what little she’s given by the end of the series. 

i hate that k*rrasami is praised so highly. because it uses the lesbian card (which i carry as a member) to reinforce some really disgusting colorism and, quite frankly, shitty ass writing. bryke can’t write without a team. end of story. 

that shit!! does NOT fly with me !!! 

[lokilickedme]

Part 3 of Read By Loki Laufeyson - Fifty Shades of Grey

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own (no longer available there) 

Rating:  Mature

Archive Warning:  No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:  F/M

Fandom:  Loki - Fandom, Loki (Marvel) - Fandom, The Avengers (MarvelMovies), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom

Relationship:  Loki/His Book, Ana/Christian

Character:  Loki, Loki Laufeyson, Loki (Marvel), Ana Steele, Christian Grey

Additional Tags:  Explicit Language, this book deserves its own warning tag, one that says DON'T READ ME, Explicit Sexual Content, lame and exceedingly silly descriptions of sex acts

Series:  Part 3 of Read by Loki Laufeyson

Stats:  Originally Published 2016-02-27   Words: 3386 (original version)

Part One:  The Night Manager

Part Two:  High Rise

   50 Shades of Grey, Read By Loki Laufeyson by lokilickedme 

Summary:  Loki reads 50 Shades and throws up multiple times. I would offer my apologies to E.L. James, but she doesn't deserve it. 

Notes:  See the end of the work for notes  

  This shitshow gets on the shaky road with a dedication that made the right side of my face twitch before the story even got started.  It's dedicated to "the master of my universe" and as of right this very moment I'm ready to preemptively toss it into the bathroom, not as reading material for my next luxury soak, but as a replacement for the empty roll of toilet paper that I keep forgetting to run to the store for.  Fuck me people, she didn't even capitalize "master" and ANY GOOD SUB KNOWS THAT NOT CAPITALIZING MASTER IS A MASSIVE SHOW OF DISRESPECT AND YOU DESERVE THE ASS BEATING YOU GET FOR IT - WITH ZERO AFTERCARE.  Don't ask me how I know that, but go ahead and fight me, this is a hill I’m willing to die on.  If this person is writing a book that's touted as an even remotely accurate accounting of a Dom/sub relationship, I can tell you right now, she doesn't know jack shit. 

So I've read a couple of pages and I'm already looking around for my seizure meds when I realize I don't take seizure meds.  I will after this, I might as well go ahead and call it in.  I'm to the part about Wanda the Volkswagon when my anticipatory boner not only goes away, but retracts so far up into my scrotum as a result of the most horrendous writing I've seen this side of Thor's second grade book report on Anne of Green Gables that I'm thinking I might just be female now.  I mean seriously?  This hurts.  I’m not even exaggerating, if you have a penis it’s going to draw up into your gall bladder.  If you have a vulva it’s going to need a vat of Burt’s Bees Extra Moisture Replenishing Salve and a bottle of cranberry capsules.  I’m not even female at the moment and this thing gave me a flaming UTI.

 I’m not sure Wanda, my old VW Beetle, would make the journey in time.  Oh, the Merc is a fun drive, and the miles slip away as I floor the pedal to the metal. 

People, this is a published book.  Someone got paid for this.  It got made into a movie.  I haven't even gotten to the sex yet and I'm already Google mapping monasteries within a one-hundred mile radius because I'm ready to take my vows.  No, this book hasn't made me believe in a higher power.  It has taken away my will to ever get laid again.

 The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. 

Holy fucking shitballs people, terminal velocity by its very definition means someone is going to die.  Is this person wearing a pressurized speed suit?  Do they hand them to you at the door before you go into the elevator?  How does the building tolerate the mechanics of generating that kind of speed?  And if by some random blessing by some random god who won't be getting any thanks from me she actually survived this trip to the twentieth floor, her brains would be leaking out her asshole.  That's not the way to make a good first impression, sweetheart.  Take the fucking stairs next time.

 It’s a stunning vista, and I’m momentarily paralyzed by the view.  Wow. 

Yes, wow.  Paralysis is rarely ever momentary darling, and it does ugly things to pretty girls.  Like, rendering you a jelly-like heap on the floor because your muscles don't continue working while you're paralyzed.  Paralysis sort of means your muscles have stopped working. 

I've begun highlighting every word I come across that the author obviously doesn't know the definition to.  Fake it till you make it, right darling?  Five pages in and my yellow pen has died a violent death.

 I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over my own feet, and falling head first into the office. Double crap – me and my two left feet! 

YOU. 

HAVE. 

GOT. 

TO. 

BE. 

FUCKING. 

KIDDING. 

ME.

In what universe is this ridiculous cutesy sort of shit thought to be amusing?  The cliches are giving me hemorrhoids.  Me and my two left feet?  Not that I'm an expert on Earth terminology and phrasing, but I'm fairly certain people stopped saying shit like that around 1962.  And...I can't believe I'm being forced to say this, but - double crap??  I was already calling my brother a bilgesnipe’s vagina by the time I could crawl, I'm pretty sure the last time I said something as immature and amateurishly silly as double crap I was still in the womb and cursing in Morse Code.  I may actually have even still been a sperm in my father's left testicle.  How old is this writer?

 “Um. Actually–” I mutter.  If this guy is over thirty then I’m a monkey’s uncle.  In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake.  As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me.  I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed.  Must be static.  I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate. 

I'm sorry but I really don't even know where to start.  The Um. Actually- ?  Or the I'm a monkey's uncle?  Maybe it's the staccato pacing?  The elementary school sentence structure?  The fact that all but one sentence of that paragraph has the word I in it, sometimes multiple times?  She placed her hand in his and they shook - sort of like I'm shaking right now.  It's the seizures this damn travesty has provoked, honestly I should sue the author for my prescription costs.  And if that girl's eyelids matched her heart rate then I'm just envisioning one of those blinky-eyed cupie dolls strapped to a paint mixing machine.

 “I own my company.  I don’t have to answer to a board.”  He raises an eyebrow at me.  I flush. 

Yes darling, always do a courtesy flush when the stench is really vomit-inducing.  Like now.  I'm not even going to ask if this conversation is taking place in a bathroom because I can tell you honestly, the bathroom is right where it belongs.

 His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel...or something. 

Something...like, maybe shit, perhaps?

 I shake my head to gather my wits. My heart is pounding a frantic tattoo - 

No darling, trust me, it's not.  A tattoo is something you draw on your body, there's no pounding involved unless you've done the drawing on your vagina.  And if you’re referring to the drum beat, then you should just say so because frankly this is meant to be a sex book and your readers aren’t going to be interested in Googling your sophomoric attempts at using interesting words.  And just as an aside, most humans are going to think of a Scottish marching band when you use that word in that context, and the last thing you want your readers thinking about while you’re sliding into a smut scene is men in plaid skirts blowing bagpipes.

 I am utterly thrown by the sight of him standing before me.  My memories of him did not do him justice.  He’s not merely good-looking – he’s the epitome of male beauty, breathtaking - 

Hold on a second, I wasn't aware I was in this book?  I must have been drunk.  I'm not sure that I would consent to this idiocy even if I was soused off my gourd, so I think I'm going to be filing a second lawsuit for character theft.

 - and he’s here.  Here in Clayton’s Hardware Store.  Go figure. 

Yes, go figure sweetiepie.  Everybody, even handsome people, need replacement U-joints for their toilets.  They come in handy when you're trying to flush books.

 Finally my cognitive functions are restored and reconnected with the rest of my body. 

Honey, cognitive functions aren't a part of your body, they're a part of your brain.  So unless your head fell off while you were walking around in Clayton's Hardware Store, I doubt this happened.  If it did, my condolences to Mr Clayton and the other shoppers, I know how traumatic that can be.

 And from a very tiny, underused part of my brain – 

You mean the whole thing?

 - probably located at the base of my medulla oblongata where my subconscious dwells – comes the thought: He’s here to see you. 

I just had another seizure.  It’s a sex book darling, stop trying to use seventy-five cent Merriam Webster words and settle for something along the lines of My fucking head exploded - trust me, at this point your readers will relate to that far more than to the concept of subconscious thought.  Or any thought at all.  And we all know it’s highly unlikely Miss Double Crap Wanda-driving headless-in-Clayton’s-Hardware store is capable of coming up with a term like medulla oblongata after that terminal velocity elevator ride.

 No way! I dismiss it immediately.  Why would this beautiful, powerful, urbane man want to see me?  The idea is preposterous, and I kick it out of my head.

 And now your head is completely empty, much like the author's, because that poorly constructed series of sentences was all that was rattling around in there. 

For the sake of moving this along, because I have something to say about literally every fucking sentence in this roll of rough-ass toilet paper, I'm going to skip to the first round of sex and see if anything improves.  Because that's what people do when things aren't going well, isn't it?  They have sex and see if it gets better?  And then if it doesn't, you kick them out and finish up with a fresh pack of batteries and a few minutes of Skinamax and when you wake up in the morning it'll be a whole new day, sunshine.  Because honestly, I just got to the part where her cheeks went the color of the Communist Manifesto and if I don't get to some penis and vagina action I'm going to kill myself.  Besides that, all this double crap inner monologue is starting to make my ballsack clench up. 

So alright people, I've got my lube and my right hand ready, let's get this party started shall we?

  "Does this mean you’re going to make love to me tonight, Christian?”  Holy shit.  Did I just say that? 

Well it certainly wasn't me.  Having medulla oblongata issues again, are we sweetheart?

 His mouth drops open slightly, but he recovers quickly.  “No, Anastasia it doesn’t.  Firstly, I don’t make love.  I fuck... hard." 

Finally, someone steps up.  Is that the sound of zippers headed south I hear?

 "Secondly, there’s a lot more paperwork to do, and thirdly, you don’t yet know what you’re in for.  You could still run for the hills.  Come, I want to show you my playroom.” 

Nope, my mistake.  Zippers firmly holding north.  How far is this fellow going to count?  Do people actually do that cheesy little “Firstly, secondly” speech tic all the way up to thirdly?  I usually only get to secondly before someone pops me in the mouth.  Somehow I have no trouble envisioning this obviously anal retentive Christian fellow proceeding right along to fourthly, fifthly, sixthly, seventhly...perhaps he has a numbers fetish to go along with that paperwork obsession of his.  If this is foreplay I'm leaving because math was never my strong point and I’ll be damned if I’m going to relive the hell of ninth grade just to get a two page smut scene.  If you want to have sex with me we get to firstly, I point to my zipper, and the game is on.  But he does get points for being forthright enough to come right out up front with the admission that he's such a rough fucker there have to be contracts involved.  Kudos my man.  Too bad he wrecked it by planting that playroom visual immediately after, because now all I can think about is a toybox full of Legos and a plastic xylophone.  Even I can't make anything kinky out of that.

 My mouth drops open.  Fuck hard!  Holy shit, that sounds so... hot.  But why are we looking at a playroom?  I am mystified.  “You want to play on your Xbox?” 

Yes darling, Fuck hard!  It sounds like a Bruce Willis movie, only this time he's not in an office building crawling through the ceiling or on an airplane fighting off terrorists, he's tied to a bed while Bonnie Bedelia drips hot wax on his scrotes.  It's a real shame we lost Alan Rickman, I'd give anything to see Hans Gruber standing at the foot of the bed in a leather corset intoning Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker just one more time.

As for playing on his Xbox, the Sims have a "whoo hoo" function.  That's all I'm going to say about that.

 - it feels like I’ve time-traveled back to the sixteenth century and the Spanish Inquisition.  Holy fuck. 

Ah yes, the good old days of the Inquisition.  I had quite a wonderful time during that era, it was a sado-masochistic wet dream.  And no, I wasn't an Inquisitor...I worked as a volunteer equipment tester for the Vatican.  There wasn't a steel spiked ball cage or 360-degree nipple twister that earned my seal of approval until I screamed for my mommy.  Something tells me this pansy-ass little ninny isn't going to make it past the electroshock vulva clamps before she's crying for every matriarchal figure in her family all the way back to the Charlemagne era.

 “It’s about gaining your trust and your respect, so you’ll let me exert my will over you.  I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy even, in your submission.  The more you submit, the greater my joy – it’s a very simple equation.”  “Okay, and what do I get out of this?”  He shrugs and looks almost apologetic.  “Me,” he says simply. 

Um...no. Just no.  Unequivocally NO.  That isn't how it works, E.L. James.  Not in the slightest.  In a true Dom/sub relationship the submissive receives every bit as much as the Dominant, and there is no two ways around that.  Anything less is bullshit and whoever you're trying to force-feed this lie to should leave running and punch you in the crotch on the way out.  I sincerely hope anyone reading this nonsense is doing so on a dare and not because they want to learn about D/s dynamics, because you're obviously not going to learn anything from this book except how to be a lip-biting ningnong who doesn't do much more than chat merrily with herself inside her medulla oblongata while mentally spouting double crap! on repeat every thirty-seven seconds.  And any respect I had for this Grey fellow for being up front about his sexual preferences just went out the window, which coincidentally is where the lip-biting ningnong should be headed.  Like he said - you could still run for the hills. 

Skipping ahead...skipping ahead...my god are these idiots ever going to do it?  I'm on page 194 and so far the closest they've come to coitus is when he almost ejaculated in his pants in an apoplectic rage when she told him she was a virgin.

 “Ah,” I groan. 

Ack, I puke.

 “You smell so good,” he murmurs and closes his eyes, a look of pure pleasure on his face, and I practically convulse.  He reaches up and tugs the duvet off the bed, then pushes me gently so I fall on to the mattress. 

I'm practically convulsing too darling, but unfortunately not with pleasure.  I need more anti-seizure meds, I've already gone through the entire bottle.  I'll be starting on the Xanax next and then it’s another call to my HMO.

 I’m panting... wanting. 

I'm vomiting...heaving.

 Not taking his eyes off mine, again he runs his tongue along my instep and then his teeth.  Shit.  I groan... how can I feel this, there? 

Hold up a second - this is a man who is so persnickety he pulls the duvet off the bed before he lets her set her ass on it, but now less than a page later he's just removed her sneaker and is licking the bottom of her sweaty all-day Converse encased foot?  My capacity for suspension of disbelief is not only wavering at this point, it’s pretty much died a slow and painful death.  Which is what I feel like I’m doing.  And if a man is holding eye contact while licking the bottom of your foot, he’s either upside down or your leg is so high up in the air he could be looking up your hooch and seeing himself through your left nostril.

“How do you make yourself come?  I want to see.”  I shake my head.  “I don’t,” I mumble.

I call bullshit.  She’s twenty-one, a virgin, and has never diddled herself?  That’s about as likely as me never having had intercourse with a horse.

“Let go, baby,” he murmurs.  His teeth close around my nipple, and his thumb and finger pull hard, and I fall apart in his hands, my body convulsing and shattering into a thousand pieces.

Huh.  And here all this time I’ve been laboring under the delusion that more was required than just two short paragraphs worth of nipple play.  This girl is a physical wonder, her nipples are clitorises.  Clitori?  Clitterati?  However you say multiple clits.  I know playing with them feels nice and I’ve made more than one maiden squirm with a few well placed sucks and a pinch or two, but this girl was climaxing before he even got her out of her brassiere.  Someone get her a job at the Kinsey Institute.

Suddenly, he sits up and tugs my panties off and throws them on the floor.

I hope they didn’t land on the duvet, he went to such trouble to keep it from getting mussed.

Pulling off his boxer briefs, his erection springs free.  Holy cow...

Rather like a jack-in-the-box, I’m envisioning.  Holy cow indeed.  Twist the handle and Pop Goes The Weasel plays while you wait in panicked anticipation for that horrid little clown to burst out of the hinged metal box and scare the shit out of you.  Well, he did say playroom, didn’t he.  Oh, and boxers and briefs are two entirely different things, my dear.  The further we get into this silly little tale the more convincing my sneaking suspicion that the author has never actually met a man before.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Miss Steele” he murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of my sex.

I’m sorry, I know I’m an adult and all but I’m giggling like a sixth grade girl that wandered into the wrong locker room at school.  And for the record, I know exactly what that sounds like because I’ve done it.  But this...this is just...holy fucking hell with twice the fire and ten times the brimstone, that sentence up there just chemically castrated me.  The head of his erection at the entrance of her sex.  I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume it means he put his cock on her pussy and we’ll call it fair and move along.

“Hard, he whispers, and he slams into me.  “Aargh!” I cry -

To quote Miss Steele, holy fuck!  His dick is so big it’s turned her into a pirate!

He speeds up.  I moan, and he pounds on, picking up speed, merciless, a relentless rhythm, and I keep up, meeting his thrusts.

Is anyone else envisioning these two jogging through the park playing bongos?  Just me?  Okay.  Oh and for future reference, because I assume this world isn’t lucky enough to escape at least three sequels to this travesty, no sentence should have as many commas as it has words unless the person speaking it is being punched in the mouth between each syllable.

Two orgasms...coming apart at the seams, like the spin cycle on a washing machine, wow.

Darling if the spin cycle on my washing machine made anything come apart at the seams I’d be at Home Depot demanding they make good on the warranty.  Which, something tells me, you should be doing with this new man of yours.

He increases the rhythm infinitesimally, and his breathing becomes more erratic.  My insides start quickening, and Christian picks up the rhythm.

I looked up infinitesimally, mainly because I’ve never actually seen it in print before and it’s such a strange looking word.  I laughed so hard my Xanax came out my nose when Google offered up this definition:  immeasurably small, exceedingly little, less than an assignable quantity.  To give it a meaning, it must usually be compared to another infinitesimal object in the same context.  Mr Grey, I do believe your tight coochied little virgin just called your dick tiny.

“You. Are. Mine.  Come for me, baby,” he growls.  His words are my undoing, tipping me over the precipice.  My body convulses around him, the precipice.  My body convulses around him, and I come, loudly calling out a garbled version of his name into the mattress.

Well damn, I have to say I’m impressed, both with the uncanny power this fellow’s voice has to make orgasms happen from out of thin air, as well as this girl’s ability to climax on demand after never having done so in her entire life previous to this encounter.  That’s three times now she’s “shattered into a million pieces” all over the fucking bed - thank god he had the presence of mind to toss the duvet on the floor, because those stains would never come out.  He’d probably be getting a visit from the local police as soon as Mrs Fratelli at the dry cleaners got a good look at it.  And I don’t know about anyone else but I really want to hear this “garbled version” of his name that she called out into the mattress.  No, really.  I want to hear it because I’m imagining something like what went down in the Caves of Caerbannog when the Knights were debating the pronunciation of the last word written on the wall.  Does that make Ana’s orgasms the sexual equivalent of the Black Beast of Argh?

I’ll wait for you to hit Google on that one.  Go ahead, I’ll wait.  I’ve got all the time in the world.  I still have six hours of studio time booked and this travesty of a novel is now residing in stall #2 in the mens room and I’m sitting here playing with the roll of toilet paper I stole.  It was a worthwhile trade.  The word Charmin printed four million times on these little squares in infinitely more intellectually stimulating than that undigested goat’s dinner we were reading.

Fifty shades of TP’ing E.L. James’s house, anyone?

End Notes:  All passages in italics are the property of E.L. James, and as far as I’m concerned she can keep them.

[thejollyroger-writer]

Bottom of the Ninth, Two Outs, Full Count

Part Two of Opening Day, Starting Pitch, which is a prologue for Love, Baseball, and Other Things (Part One // Part Two)

Also on AO3

WARNINGS: This story contains both Millian and abusive Swanfire. Sorry if that's not your cup of tea, but this is a prologue, and I'm obsessed with traumatic backstory. This also contains death of a character, grief, alcoholism, verbal and physical abuse, and abandonment. It starts exactly where part one left off.

Thanks again to @welllpthisishappening and @profdanglaisstuff for prompting this story into existence, @ultraluckycatnd for reading over it, and @kmomof4 for flailing so much over this little verse that has become the only thing I can think about. If you'd like to be tagged for future installations, let me know!

(also, sorry there's no cut, I'm on mobile and apparently Tumblr hates me anyway.)

-----

By the time Milah’s birthday rolls around in the middle of April, he has the ring tucked inside a box of letters from his brother and a reservation for the night she turns 26 at her favorite restaurant across town. He even bought them a night at the quaint little hotel next to Washington Square, so they don’t have to trek back across the river to get home that night. And he has the whole thing planned out: dinner, then a show at the Walnut Street Theatre before taking her dancing and taking her back to the hotel through Independence Square, finally lit up for spring, where he’ll stop and ask her to marry him. It’s a perfect plan, really, and he realizes when he calls the restaurant two nights before to confirm the reservation that he has never been this excited for anything in his life.

His friends can tell, too. David is happy for him, planning to propose to his own girlfriend while they’re on their post-graduation vacation, and Emma pokes fun at him regularly about the smile that is always on his face.

So when two uniformed officers knock on the door to his apartment three days before Milah’s birthday and ask if he’s Killian Jones, emergency contact for Milah Smith , it takes all his strength not to lose the contents of his stomach all over their finely-polished shoes.

“Yes, I am,” he says, pulling himself together enough to talk to them, to make sure that he’s not overreacting. “Why, has something happened to her?”

The way their emotionless faces seem to fall at his question causes him to lose his balance, and he reaches out to hold on to the doorway before he falls at their feet.

“There’s no easy way to say this, Mr. Jones,” the one to his left says, and Killian doesn’t fail to see the irony behind the fact that his name is Marry . “I’m afraid Milah was involved in a car accident on the Ben Franklin Bridge this morning, and by the time the paramedics got to the scene, there was nothing they could do for her.”

“Oh, god,” he groans, his shoulder hitting hard against the doorway, the only thing keeping him standing. “No, no, no, no.”

“We’re terribly sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” he chokes out, starting to close the door before the men standing on the other side of him see him fall apart. But once the door closes, he loses the strength to stay on his own two feet, and he falls to his knees, his head resting on the cool wood of the apartment door.

In losing Milah, he lost everything. Three days from spending the rest of his life with her, and now he would have to live with the question of whether she would have said yes for the rest of his life.

Of course she would have said yes , he tries to convince himself, but it’s useless. He’s learned to never assume even the easiest of things, that’s how he’s survived everything that’s happened so far in his life. So that little voice in the back of his head keeps telling him over and over that there’s a chance she may have said no.

He has no idea how long he stays seated against the door. He does know that the sun has swung across the sky and begins to shine brightly through the front windows, and that by the time he pulls himself back onto his feet, his legs are numb.

He wishes the rest of him was just as numb.

So that’s exactly what he makes happen.

It started with one glass of whiskey, then turned into three, then six. By the time David and Emma come back from visiting their mother for the weekend, the sun has turned the sky a dark shade of crimson, and he is passed out on the couch, what remains of the last glass still in the cup his hand is wrapped around.

“Killian!” David yells, rushing across the living room to make sure he’s okay. He’s breathing, but refuses to budge, and once Emma finds the now-empty bottle of Jack on the counter, they figure out why.

“I hope he’s okay,” Emma comments, adding the bottle to the pile of recycling under the sink. “He usually doesn’t drink this much, and especially not whiskey.”

“Either something happened, or he just randomly decided he was in the mood for half a bottle of Tennessee whiskey.”

“Well, given that he usually refers to it as ‘number 7 swill,’ I doubt he decided just on a whim.”

David turns his eyes down to Killian, his whole face painted with worry, but there’s nothing they can do for him until he regains consciousness, so they leave him there, returning to the piles of papers they left spread across the kitchen table. They study in silence for a few minutes, the ticking of the clock over the stove driving Emma insane, so she speaks, her eyes flitting up to her brother for just a moment.

“I, uh, need to stay here again,” she says quietly, her eyes glued to the paper in her hands so they don’t have to reach what she knows is a worried glare from her brother.

“Neal again?”

“For fuck’s sake, David, don’t say it like that.”

“When are you going to leave his sorry ass for good?”

“I love him, David. I know you know this, and I know you understand. And he loves me, too, he just has some issues he needs to work out and everything will be just fine.”

“Everything is not just fine , Emma,” David growls, his back teeth grinding together angrily. “You think I don’t notice the marks he leaves on your arms? The fact that you’re always crying after you talk to him? You need to leave him, before he does something that he can’t just apologize for.”

“I can’t just leave him,” she says, her voice soft, and when she adds, “Not anymore,” he drops the textbook he was balancing on the edge of the table.

“What does that mean, Emma? Are you— did he—”

“I’m pregnant, alright?” she says bitterly, throwing the paper in her hands back down on the table so she can hold her head. “I’m almost three months pregnant, and I’m too afraid to tell him because I know when I do, he’ll just leave. Is that what you wanted to hear from me?”

“Christ, Emma,” he whispers, and as soon as he realize that her shoulders have started to shake with silent sobs, he pushes his chair back to walk across the table and wrap his arms around her. She turns in the seat, burying her head in his shoulder. “I can’t — I’m sorry.”

While they stay like this, David shedding a few tears for his sister, as well, Killian begins to slowly wake on the couch, head pounding and stomach churning, and when he slowly makes his way to the kitchen to find some water, he is surprised to find David and Emma, but when they see him, they begin to break away from each other.

Sitting down across the table from them, taking very careful sips out of his glass, he finally says, “I take it this means you heard about Milah.”

When they both seem to be more confused by this statement, he realizes he must have made an error.

“Is she alright?” David asks, and somehow Killian smiles instead of breaking down once more, but it only lasts for the quickest of moments.

“No, quite the opposite, actually. She was killed this morning in an accident on the Ben Franklin.”

“What a fucking day,” Emma says under her breath as David moves back across the table to pull his friend in for a hug.

Four days later, the day after Milah would have turned 26, they hold her funeral in one of the nicer churches in town. After asking Liam and David to wait outside, to give him a minute alone with her casket, there is nothing comparable to seeing her laying there, lifeless, surrounded by silk and flowers. Pulling the small velvet box out of his pocket, his hands grip the edge of the wood, the only balance he can find.

“I was — I was going to give this to you,” he chokes out, doing nothing to stop the stream of tears that fall down his face. “I still… I’ve been trying to decide whether I should give it to you, or keep it as a reminder of just how damned much I love you.” He reaches up to tuck his index finger under the buttoned collar of his shirt, pulling out the chain that holds his mother's ring. “But I think, now that I'm here and thinking about it, that I will keep this, both as a keepsake of you, of the years we spent together, and a reminder that my life has been torn apart one too many times from letting people into my heart.”

He holds the ring out in his palm, staring down at it for a moment before he closes his hand around it, feeling the edges of the diamonds cutting into his palm.

“I love you, my darling,” he whispers, leaning down to press his lips against her forehead, a sob fighting its way up his chest when he feels the coldness of her skin against his.

The pain overtakes him. He spends the next three days numbing himself, a dangerous combination of rum and whiskey and whatever else he can find in the apartment, only leaving the confines of his bedroom to find the next drink or relieve himself. On the fourth day, Emma, Neal, David, and Mary Margaret are sitting around the table in the kitchen, actively ignoring the subject of the grieving man who has locked himself away from the world.

Emma knows that David is worried about him — he’s told her that much at least a dozen times since Killian first told them of Milah’s death. The fact that her friend is struggling so much, so obviously, and no one is trying to reach out to him, though, just angers her.

So she decides she can’t take it anymore.

“Christ, enough of this,” she says, slamming her empty water glass down on the table. “That man in there needs help, and if I have to be the one to give it to him, then I will be.” She pushes her chair back, jumping to her feet, but before she can walk away, she feels Neal's hand wrap around her wrist.

“No.”

She whips her head around to face him. “Excuse me?”

“The darkness that took over Neal's face lightens, but his grip on her wrist does not. “He'll be fine, just give him time. Stay here.”

“What? No, he's — he's not okay, Neal. And on the off-chance that he is, he can be the one to tell me that, not you.”

Even if David wasn't watching his every movement intently, he would have noticed how hard Neal pulled on Emma's arm to get her to step back to the table.

“I'm not gonna tell you again, Ems,” he growls, his fingers beginning to leave marks on Emma's wrist. “I don't want you to go in there.”

“Good thing that's not your decision to make,” David says, his whole body tense, but when Neal snaps his head to face him and he sees some of the tension leave Emma's shoulders, he knows it was the right moment to step in.

“Well, it certainly isn't yours.”

“That is my sister that you have your hand around, if you'll remember.”

“David, please,” Emma says softly, and Neal smiles up at her, though that smile scares her more than anything else.

“Yes, David, please,” Neal repeats, the wicked smile still spread across his face when he turns back to him. “Emma knows how this works, and she knows what happens if she doesn't listen to me.”

“You son of a bitch!” David yells, jumping out of his seat angrily enough that it clatters to the floor behind him.

“David!” both Emma and Mary Margaret yell, but he's already halfway around the table, his hand flying out to grab the front of Neal's shirt.

Neal still hasn't let go of Emma's wrist.

“You're going to take your hands of my sister and never, ever touch her again, do you hear me?”

Neal is still smiling.

“And what, exactly, are you going to do to me if I don't?”

David pulls him out of his seat using the front of his shirt. His hand around Emma's wrist tightens further.

“See, that depends on just how angry you make me, because right now, I want to rip your fucking throat out.”

Mary Margaret has turned so white in her seat that Emma fears she may pass out — but she seems to be the only one that's noticed.

“Can I — can I ask you something, Nolan?” Neal asks, his voice free of any of the fear David was hoping to instill, but Emma feels the way his hand trembles. “Why the Knight in shining armor act all of the sudden? This can't be the first you've learned about me — “

“David, please ,” Emma begs, but David either fails to hear her or chooses to ignore her, taking the bait he's laying in front of him.

“She's pregnant, you bastard,” David practically yells, the secret that he's been trying so hard to keep, not even sharing it with Mary Margaret. “She's carrying your child and you're too goddamned selfish to care about it one bit.”

“David,” Emma whispers, and she is finally able to pull her hand out of Neal's grasp, that's suddenly loosened.

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret says at the same time, her big brown eyes full of both excitement and sadness.

Neal turns slowly to Emma, who has covered her face to hide the tears that have started falling, and David finally releases his fist from his shirt. “Is he — is he serious, Ems?” He has the nerve to soften his voice so much, to suddenly take all of the anger it's always full of away, and it just hurts her all the more. She's so afraid of his anger, his temper, his fear of commitment, but he's —

She nods, a glimmer of hope lightening the pounding in her chest. Opening her eyes, she darts to look at him, and she can tell that he is thinking over something.

And then he shakes his head, raising his hands in surrender, and backing away from the table. “I’m not — I can’t —” he sputters, but his coherency is gone. “I’m sorry.”

The three of them watch, stunned, as Neal grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and walks out of the apartment.

Everything is silent. Still. David and Mary Margaret are too afraid to move, knowing that as soon as they do, everything will crumble.

Emma will crumble.

But instead of either of them breaking the silence, disrupting the stillness, it comes instead from a bright-eyed and uniformed Killian Jones coming from his bedroom. The three of them dare to move enough to turn their attentions towards him, and when he finally senses the tension that has filled the apartment, added only by his escape from his bedroom, he raises his eyebrows in question.

“Where are you going?” David asks the question they’re all thinking.

Emma asks the other: “Are you okay?”

He pushes the front of his hair back to slide his baseball cap over it. “I, uh, have a game. I can’t wallow in grief forever, so I’ve decided instead to focus on my pitching game. It’s what…” his voice drops off, his eyes falling to the floor as his hand reaches up to grasp the same chain that always hangs around his neck, which they all see holds another ring beside his mother's. “It's what she would have wanted.”

The engagement ring , Emma realizes. It's what Milah would have wanted.

For a moment, Emma is inspired. Sure, it took him four days to get there, but he's pulled himself back together after losing Milah — and really losing her, not just having her walk out like she knew Neal was going to do. He's turning the energy he's been using to destroy himself back into something more productive.

She can do that, too.

Grabbing her jacket off the back of her chair, she slings it over her shoulder and follows Killian out towards the living room.

“I'm going with him.”

“What?” Mary Margaret asks, at the same time David says, “Stay here, we can talk about it.”

She turns to Killian, his bright eyes lighting up the shadow the brim of his hat lays across his face, and shakes her head, turning back to David.

“I don't want to talk about it. It's over. He did exactly what I expected, so there's nothing to even talk about.”

“Emma—” David starts, but she walks out of the kitchen, leaving the three of them bewildered.

“No,” she calls through the doorway. “I'm leaving.”

“Yeah, uh, me too,” Killian says, a million questions on his lips, as he follows her out of the apartment.

Their walk down the steps and out to the street is silent, and it continues that way for a few blocks, Emma's hands stuffed into the pockets of her jacket and Killian's fidgeting with the strap of his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

He has almost decided on how to ask the question lingering on the tip of his tongue when she speaks instead.

“I'm really proud of you, d'you know that?”

He turns to her, but her eyes are still set on the sidewalk at her feet.

“Come again?”

“Your whole world crumbles down around you, and you took a few days to grieve before you pull yourself back up and focus on something productive.”

“Thanks?” he asks, her words igniting a warmth in his heart that he wasn't sure he would ever feel again. “I watched my father drink himself half to death after my ma passed, and when I looked in the mirror last night, I realized I was doing the same thing. The only thing I ever wanted in life was to not end up like my father, and I saw myself doing just that.” He tugs at the chain around his neck, threading his pinky through the ring that has just been added. “And that's not what Milah would want. She always told me to — to stick with the things I enjoy the most, and I realized the reason I stopped focusing on my pitching game was in hopes of finding a career to sustain us. Now that I… now that I no longer need that, I can go back to doing what I love without the fear that it's going to be enough.”

Emma has no response to this, so they walk in silence again for a few more moments.

“Neal's gone.”

Killian breathes out a small chuckle, though once it's out, he can't figure out why. “How long do you think it will be this time until he comes running back?”

Emma flattens her hands against her stomach, but since her hands are in her pockets, Killian doesn't see it. “He's not coming back this time.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, for one, David threatened him. I believe the exact promise was to 'rip his fucking throat out,’ and I wouldn't put it past him to follow through on that.” They both allow themselves to laugh at this, a small release of some of the tension built around them after all that's happened in the past few days.

“And for two?” Killian asks, and when he sees Emma turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye, he returns her gaze.

“He’s too afraid of commitment to stick around and become a father.”

She watches as Killian's eyes grow wide before turning down to her stomach, a smile growing across his face.

“You're pregnant?”

He's relieved so see her begin to smile, too, as she nods her head. Stopping them on the sidewalk, he wraps her in a hug — and she realizes just how excited she really is, even if Neal is no longer in the picture.

Maybe it's even better this way.

“And you know you're not alone, right? You have David and Mary Margaret to help you, and me.” He leans back, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders, and when he smiles at her again, she believes for the first time since she saw that positive sign that everything might actually be okay.

[artificialqueens]

The Devil Named Sharon Chapter 7 {Shalaska} - imafuckinglibra

Hey, hi, how are you? I have so many other stuff to write but you know what I picked the most neglected fic I have so enjoy my children. Some fluff, some frankly traumatic smut, and some comfort bc god knows I’m out of practice and this is a bit rushed, I apologize. Anywho imma go look at the shiny new ring I got my hopefully soon to be fiancé enjoy k bye

“Yours.” Alaska repeated just as she had done earlier in the morning after Jinkx had left Sharon’s office and left her battle axe of a boss in this horribly foul mood that came to bite her in the ass. Multiple times.

First when she barked at her for forgetting to put her bottle of sparkling water on her left instead of her right.

Then when she ordered to have her lunch sent to her office in 15 minutes even though she good and goddamn well knew it was impossible to get from the upscale Manhattan restaurant in less than 25 on a good day.

As soon as the poor delivery boy soaked in nervous sweats arrived with perfectly cooked steak, side of grilled in season veggies drenched in some sort of vinaigrette and the standard order of pompousness that came with each of their meals arrived however, Sharon simply scowled at the food.

Disgusted by it’s presence and just how nonchalantly it sat there watching her across the room. “What’s this?”

“Your…lunch?” Alaska hesitantly and very confused by the lack of praise for completing, what she had deemed and rightfully so, an impossible task.

Instead she simply drop her bag and oversized black coat onto Alaska desk as she marched past it into the big glass framed office where the food stood. Dismissing her meal with a displeased shove on the side of the plate shaking the contents enough to fall off onto her desk.

“I said I’m having lunch with you do you remember or are you completely retarded?” Another bite in the ass.

“Uh…” Alaska stammered unsure of how to respond.

“Are you, completely, retarded?” Sharon looked up from under her lashes to snarl at her the longer she took to think of a response. “Good thing you’re pretty.” She grunted picking up a few mock copies of other runway related magazines, securing them under her arm as she made her exit again.

Slapping Alaska’s cheek even as her mouth still gapped open and shut in a dazed panic before she dug her nails into her cheekbones. “I’m hungry, let’s go. Pet.”

“Who do you belong to!?” Sharon repeated her question with her authoritative growl turning into a blood curdling scream through her dark empty eyes.

“You…” Alaska futility again tried to follow commands with whatever dignity she had left so utterly exposed under Sharon’s relentless wrath.

She had brought the younger girl to her apartment under the rouse that it was to pick something up before going to lunch with her roommates.

Instead Sharon had managed to push her into the living room with hunger, torment, unexplainable fury and too many pent up emotions heavy in her heart scaring Alaska down to her core.

Inciting both terror and passionate lust that rushed down her thighs and back up through her veins, bringing her to a state of helpless obedience when Sharon sprawled her open next to the fireplace.

Her legs dangling off the old leather ottoman to the side of the room and her tight red leather dress that stuck to the matching material of the furniture pulled up over her flat, taught stomach.

Bunching up in a sticky mess below her protruding ribcage with the top half of the hidden zipper in the back pulled down enough to allow the top half to be pried off her chest enough that her braless breasts could hang open for Sharon’s desire.

Following orders as the eager to please pet usually did despite the foggy haze of bewilderment and excitement she soon found her self repeatedly having to affirm her ownership to the older.

The repeated “yours” slipping through her messily smeared lips even as her chest heaved, her ribs’ outlines poking through her skin as she kept the firm pressure she was told to on the small swollen bundle of nerves Sharon’s index and middle finger had prodded over merely minutes ago before they slipped through her lips inside her.

“Rub your clit.” Sharon breathed out tightening her left hand’s fist around her neck to push her thumb into Alaska’s pressure point. “Harder.”

Thanks to the ever tightening vice grip on her throat Alaska found it increasingly difficult to breathe let alone obey, and when her boss noticed this sudden lack of cooperation she mumbled something inaudible to herself and had her thumb take over the job.

Using the momentum of the force with which her fingers were pounding into her petite hole to push her closer and closer to the edge Alaska had already been toppling over.

She also noticed how Alaska was getting dangerously close to blacking out, her lack of consciousness growing as clear as the bruising already forming under her fingertips on the pale porcelain skin.

“…Sharon…” Was all Alaska managed before she realized her words weren’t coming out, her words now just barely moans as her eyes rolled back into her skull.

Her face turning a dark, dangerous beet red as her eyes teared up further from lack of oxygen, the droplets now streaming down her cheeks as she again tried gasping for air. “Sha…”

“Keep going!” Sharon ordered harshly pounding her fingers deeper into her. “Push through this baby.” She mumbled so softly under her breath that Alaska couldn’t even hear it over her broken babbles and incoherent whines.

“…I…p…”

“No! Do not disobey!” If Alaska had been paying attention, well if she’d been able to, she would’ve noticed the sobs of guilt filling the room wasn’t her own.

But she was too lost, too far gone to even comprehend her own surroundings much less pick up on the war raging inside Sharon as she watched with a heavy heart how the frail boney hands tried clinging to the wrist around her jugular.

“Atta girl.” Sharon praised her for her perseverance, hiding the hitch in her breath. “There you go, cum baby.”

“Tha…thank.” Alaska’s voice failed her once again as her long built up climax crashed down on her. Knocking whatever wind was left in her out if her body as she wormed around in ecstasy.

Her knees drawing closer to each other like magnets to squeeze Sharon’s hand so tight all movements halted. The hands around her wrist grabbing on tighter, scared without her she’d fall apart even though Sharon had already let go.

“Good girl.” Sharon praised softly, wiping the stray tear out of her eye, focusing all her efforts now on the broken body beneath her. “You did so good, honey.” She placed a kiss on Alaska’s forehead.

“Thank you jesus for cutting your nails.” The smaller blonde eventually laughed to lift her own spirits as a way of fighting of showing just how drained she suddenly became.

“Sh, don’t talk too much.” Sharon cooed pulling her up slowly to put her on her lap where she could hold her closely. “Do you think you can go back to work?”

“No.” Alaska breathed out still regaining any form of composure as her spent body sunk into the arms holding her so tightly. Sharon’s lips pressed against her forehead where they whispered sweet nothings, comforting her racing mind.

“Okay. I’ll have the life raft fill in.” Sharon eventually reached for her phone to inform who she assumed would be Detox of her duties for the day while Alaska began drifting to and fro sleep.

She felt like she had just run a 40 mile marathon and her orgasm had been the final 10 mile stretch that she had to push through. But God it was well worth it.

She came like she never had before, pleasure washing over her entire being so violently she doubted she’d ever be able to come down from the high it gave her.

Not that she wanted to.

“Was that a treat?” She finally asked lifting her sleepy eyes up to stare up at her boss’s beautiful blue eyes that had softened once again. “Or a punishment?”

“Which did it feel like?” She asked wiping the hairs off her sticky forehead to place another well earned kiss, this time lingering longer than she needed to take a deep inhale of her sweet shampoo and perfume that she’s grown accustomed to whenever Alaska walked into her office.

“I can’t tell.” She admitted almost to honestly.

“I’m sorry.”

“I liked it…I, I hated you for a second but I liked it.”

“You’re always so blunt.” Sharon scowled down at her unsure of how to take this sudden declaration.

‘I know I went too far but hatred? Really?’ Sharon internally said the words she didn’t have the courage to say out loud in the possibility it could offend the young girl in her lap.

“You say that you like me or you take care of me but sometimes your love just feels down kind of…cruel.” She let her words flow freely still high of her undeniably glorious orgasm and the delicious scent of Sharon’s perfume against her nose buried in her neck.

“I know it seems malicious but it’s not.” Sharon’s softened tone began harshening again as if she was shielding herself from her own words. “I needed to remind myself I was in control. I needed you to make me feel in control.”

“You’re selfish. That’s why people can’t stand you, but they put up with you because you scare them. You don’t want to be in control you want to make people fear you so they don’t see that you’re scared of them.” She continued burying her head lower into the bosom beneath her like a child cuddling up to their parent. Pulling the arms she had around her in tighter to let Sharon know everything was alright.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you or anyone.” Sharon snapped. “Do you need a ride home?”

“No. I need you, I’m not scared of you or letting you control me because I know how protective you get over the things you care for.” She continued taking the risk to tilt her lips towards Sharon’s for a much needed kiss.

Too her surprise instead of her display of affection and, what can be taken as frankly quite rude words, being returned with a slap to the cheek Sharon kissed her. Refusing to release her lips until she needed breath but even then never letting their lips linger apart for more than a split second.

Her groggy mind growing even more foggy in her embrace, not even registering that Sharon had picked her up till she felt the lush carpet beneath her feet where she was ordered to the bed. “Sleep off what you need here and when you wake up go home, I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Okay.” She discouragingly mumbled looking down at her feet when the older placed a kiss on her cheek as a rushed, distracted goodbye with her phone already in hand.

-

When she woke up god knows how many hours considering it felt like she’d been asleep for at least 40 years she realized she was still in Sharon’s bed where she had crawled in earlier to recover, for lack of a better word.

“Get dressed.”

“Huh?” She looked to her side following the voice to see Sharon sitting by the counter attached to the mirror next to the big walk in wardrobe with no make up and her glasses on.

This wasn’t the first time she’d seen her looking so bare but she had to admit it was still such a foreign sight it nearly knocked the wind out of her.

Her naked eyes red and tired, her naturally pale rose tinted high cheekbones and plump lips a pale pink highlighted in the reflection of the small hand held with the circular light around it.

Clad in nothing but a thin lace bra with patterned ridges ending above her ribs and a matching set of high waisted panties with the garter already clicked in place attached to long brown silk stockings.

“Get dressed, we were invited to dinner.” Sharon instructed again rubbing some sort of creamed primer into her face.

“But I…”

“You can get dressed and go with me or go home. Pick.” As she gave her the ultimatum she began walking over to where Alaska had been sitting with the covers pulled over her naked chest.

Pulling the straps of her bra that had been hanging over her arms up over her shoulders as she approached her to look at least some what more put together.

“But I’d really love it if you went with me.” She sincerely smiled cupping the young girl’s face.

The smell of expensive perfume and the cigarette she’d been smoking that rested in the ashtray next to where she’d been sitting lingering in the air before the smell of the cream on her fingers hit her too.

“Okay.” She smiled halfheartedly shuffling out of the covers. “What time is it?”

“We have about an hour and a half to get dressed.” Sharon informed her without needing to look at any clock as if she knew everything even time itself, which she probably did.

There had been too many times since meeting her that Alaska considered if her eccentric / lover was really some supernatural being.

But then she’d usually think back on the image of her humming songs while she cooked breakfast or how she purred when she slept. Small things that made her seem so vulnerable and human Alaska craved for more every time she’d look at her.

Disregarding the young girl entirely now that she’d gotten her spoiled way Sharon proceeded to walk back to where she was before where a chic yet much more casual outfit than what either would normally been wearing laid. “I already took a shower, take one too and than put on the panties I put aside.”

“Is that mine?” She ignored the order much to Sharon’s annoyance who grabbed her wrist tightly before she could touch the white tank top she’d aimed for.

“If you’re a good little girl.” Sharon purred removing her hand from her wrist to give her naked ass a hard slap. “If not you can go back to that sad excuse of an apartment naked for all I care.” Letting her palm slide along Alaska’s behind and down her thigh as she turned around.

“You’re the boss.” She sang in a sultry voice while walking into the brightly lit bathroom, turning first to look behind her and lick her top lip playfully. “Unless you WANT to punish me again.”

“Dinner first, play afterwards.” Sharon smirked with a smug half smile returning to her make up that laid spread out on the table top.

Taking her sweet time to relish in the feel of the scolding water rushing down her petite body Alaska stood still for a minute with her eyes shut and her face to the wide copper shower head.

Wiping her palms with the thick rose scented shower gel over her face she washed away any trace of exhaustion still on her eyes as if it was as easy as her leftover make up.

Her aching muscles tired after the draining day soothed by the jet of water pouring down onto her shoulders and washing any evidence of their encounter on her thighs away.

When she was finished she slipped on the underwear next to the towel Sharon had set aside for her and returned to find her lover already half way through doing her make up, almost hesitant to disturb her but decided the kick she always seemed to get out of Alaska wearing whatever she picked out was worth it.

“Pleased?” She asked sliding the door open to let the steam out into the dark eery bedroom as she stood with her legs together, her ass sticking out a bit further and her arms apart so Sharon could examine her naked body in just the pair of sheer white panties.

“Put it on and give me 30 more minutes. Change in the bathroom I don’t want you bothering me.” Sharon ignoring her display grumbled motioning to the outfit she tried admiring before.

‘What a waste.’ Sharon thought staring at the best view she could’ve ever asked for - Alaska’s ass in a thong. The younger who’s back was turned to her already wiggling into her shirt clearly not noticing the side eye staring or salivating lips. ‘I can never keep white clean.’

The younger blonde had to admit she was more than somewhat worried about the fact that Sharon had neglected to give her a bra but she shook off the doubt by reminding herself that the older knew what she was doing.

Not to mention the thought of being so on display without having to worry about anyone even daring to bat an eye at her, knowing she was the great big scary Sharon Needles’ girlfriend send a bolt of confidence like no other through her.

“Now?” Alaska asked again putting on the same little showcase after she’d put on the thin, almost see through tank top that just barely showed off her perky tits and high waisted blue pants with white stars scattered about and thick red stripes down the sides. Matching the sewn in suspenders she had already strapped over her shoulders.

Instead of the reaction she had hoped for Sharon simply flicked her now elegantly painted eyes in her direction with a contorted frown and handed her two hair ties from the bottom drawer of her desk with her left hand as her right continued effortlessly blending some sort of white into her cut eye crease. “Let the suspenders hang loose and put your hair in buns, then come sit next to me.”

“Yes ma’am.” Alaska rolled her eyes hoping Sharon didn’t pick up on it but the spank on her rear showed differently.

‘Yes ma’am indeed, sly minx.’ She praised her young pet for being so self assured she dared show her attitude. Finding this new bravado quiet endearing.

She was the perfect blend of independent yet obedient, she knew when and how to stand up for herself and could take on anything or anyone she wanted to - even sharon.

Yet she never defied an order or hesitated to please her every whim, no matter what curveball she threw at her.

After doing as told Alaska had to admit she looked pretty fucking cute. Her outfit was, albeit inappropriately revealing thanks to the shirt’s thin material and the fact that it was short enough to expose a part of her ribs, quite perfect, just like any the older always picked for her. Dressed down enough that it was casually fitting for a dinner yet fashionable enough that she wouldn’t look too out of place entering a room with the industry icon.

“Perfect.” Sharon dropped the brush she’d been using on the table, admiring herself in the mirror from a few different angles making it difficult for Alaska to tell if she was talking about herself or her girlfriend. “Come.” She tapped the empty spot on the bench next to her.

As full of surprises as ever, to which Alaska should’ve been used to by now, Sharon carefully picked the tube of foundation that best matched the younger’s skin tone from the group of products lined against the edge of the table.

With her middle finger delicately holding her jaw still she began the process of turning Alaska into someone who looked like they could be off the cover of Runway itself.

“Like I said earlier it wasn’t a punishment or a treat, it was purely because I was so angry I didn’t know what to do with myself and you’re the easiest thing to take it out on. If I hurt you too much I apologize, just know it hurt me more than it did you.” Sharon finally admitted after what felt like an eternity of silence.

“I get it.” Alaska flicked her eyes to Sharon’s, her face scrunched in concentration as she moved to blending in the contours that showed off every perfect edge of her face into her foundation.

“Just know if you can push through like you did today you’ll want for nothing with me, understood.” Sharon sat back with her fingers now digging into Alaska’s jawline to keep her attention.

“Yes.” She nodded and with a satisfied nod Sharon leaned in for a quick kiss before reaching beside her to tap off some excess black dust on her brush. Tapping the same black eyeshadow with a hint of red undertones she’d used on herself onto Alaska’s lid.

What the younger didn’t realize and probably wouldn’t realize until many years later was that Sharon wasn’t trying to break her down or degrade her. She in fact taught Alaska how to be stronger.

She taught her just how much she can actually endure and helped her learn how to push through any obstacle to get what she wanted. Just as Michelle had taught her all those years ago, in a different context but it still applied.

“You’re my girl, I’ll look out for you come hell or high water, and tomorrow I’ll buy you new furniture…and new scarves.”

“You don’t have to.” Alaska began laughing at Sharon’s struggle to keep a straight face at her own joke before she scolded her for not sitting still. “Fine, but if it wasn’t either that means it was a test?”

“No.” Sharon pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Then what happened to you?”

“Told you, I was angry.”

“So I get that every time you’re angry?”

“No.” She repeated the same monotonous way she did every short answer as if either her questions were boring her, which they probably were hence why she was warned never to ask anything, or because she was so focused. Maybe both.

“I can’t figure you out.” She worryingly whispered opening her eyes to look at what her lover was doing when she was finally given permission too.

“That’s the idea, careful not to smudge the liner it might not be fully dry yet.” She ordered packing her make up neatly back in their places while Alaska simply shook her head unsatisfied with the answers.

Catching her off guard Sharon took hold of her with her arm around her waist and the other with the brush still between her fingers on her cheek.

Leaning her back down to kiss her passionately and softly, their lips remaining locked for longer than Alaska could keep track of till Sharon eventually pulled away and looked between her eyes. “You may be my pet but you deserve better, I’m not as bad a person as people think.”

“I know.” Alaska admitted. “That’s what I keep trying to tell you.”

“What can I say, I’m stubborn.” Sharon shrugged with a more playful smile than normal helping her back up. “Help me get dressed and then we’ll finish your lips, alright?”

Going in theme of casual yet classy as with Alaska’s outfit Sharon wore a perfectly tailored pitch black suit with a white button up buttoned only halfway to show off her ungodly gorgeous cleavage and a loose satin black tie hanging around her collar.

Her hair slicked back completing the sleek androgynous look with her pair of thick rimmed black glasses and a dark smokey eye with blood red lip’s matching the red in Alaska’s pants completing the look.

“When I say I’ll listen to anything I mean it, I believe like fashion or any other art form music can be beautiful or hit home in any way shape or form.” Sharon explained away the Manson shirt Alaska had found as she fished around her make up drawer filled with more tubes of lipstick than anyone could ever need. “That being said, tilt your head, there are still good and bad and those who don’t know the difference aren’t worth my time. If you express yourself through what you listen to, wear, paint whatever and it’s shit, people know you’re shit. Open.”

With her fingertips holding Alaska’s jaw as if it was fine delicate china that she was admiring the beauty of, Sharon began sliding the tube of pale nude lipstick as neatly as possible onto her lips.

Alaska of course keeping as still as a mannequin to avoid damaging any of her work. Finding it difficult though thanks to just how erratically fast her heart was racing, the thin material of her shirt suddenly felt far too tight as butterflies fluttered about in her stomach, making her feel almost lightheaded.

Nothing moving except her eyes that flicked to and fro from Sharon’s hoping she could try and capture this moment and save it forever. Save this feeling of being loved, being cared for before she whispered. “And I am?”

“Perfect.” Sharon answered in a calm caring voice with a half cracked smile, sitting back to admire her handy work but more importantly the girl underneath it. Giving her a quick kiss on the cheek as a reward in the same way you’d give a child a gold star.

While she was packing away any stray make up products that she had forgotten back where she’d found them originally Alaska seized the opportunity to finally examine herself as a whole.

Her dark eyeshadow and thick winged liner contrasting the subtle highlights and contouring blended into her foundation that ran all the way down her neck to hide the bruises she’d received earlier. Her nude lips a damn near perfect match to her skin tone just slightly tinted on the redder side making her lips look bigger somehow, juicier, if she had to pick a word.

The monochrome look of her make up playing beautifully off her bright outfit and ditsy styled hair, she worried she’d look silly or overly cutesy next to Sharon’s sleek no nonsense business attire but the pair ended up somehow matching perfectly with subtle elements matching together. As always.

“And we’re only 10 minutes late, you ready?” Sharon asked, her finger’s crawling onto the exposed abdomen next to her as she joined her date for the evening in viewing their reflection as though it was a fine work of art.

“As I’ll ever be.” Alaska whispered inhaling a much needed deep breath to aid her in standing up taller, more confident and ready to face whatever may come.

-

But dear God above nothing couldn’t prepared her for this.

“Not much has changed since college, has it? Hi mama.” Chad, ‘not that Chad’, as Jinkx had put it earlier greeted Sharon with wide spread open arms to hug her so tight Alaska eventually became jealous.

She looked like she had everything on her face sliced, injected, carved or pumped more than just once or twice…or thrice even Alaska noted in a childishly sour grapes fashion to Danny who she spotted and collided with almost as soon as they got there.

In an uninterested and frankly uncaring, border lining on rude, fashion Sharon had shoed Alaska towards the the sidelines with the boy, snarling at his audacity to greet her.

“If I have to even smell your pathetic existence near me again tonight I swear to God.”

“He’s my friend, be nice ple…shit.“ Alaska tried defending him hoping if anyone could soften her up she’d be the one to do it but the abrupt nails digging into her ass that made her yelp loudly said different.

Her cheeks turning even brighter red than Sharon’s lipstick when she saw the eyes of their fellow dinner guests looking her way.

“You’re fucked.” Danny huffed under his breath behind his hand, playing it off as a cough.

Sharon however dropped her head into her neck, so close she could feel her warm breath on her skin sending shivers down her spine as she whispered into her ear. “The idiot finally got something right, now show off those good manners I taught you.”

A chill shot down her body again sending goosebumps to flare along the exposed skin on her ribs and along her arms as she thought back on Sharon’s words.

“I hope I look that good at her age.” Danny shifted his hip to rest on his other boot, looking somewhat uncomfortable in the suit he was wearing that Bianca probably forced him into.

“Which one?” She asked taking the drinks they’d been ordered to get for their bosses. Examining Sharon up and down as she had done many times before realizing she’d never stopped to think about her age. “How old is she?” She accidentally whispered out loud.

“37…but I’d rather be like B.” He quickly rambled off in her direction as they approached the group of reminiscing woman that now included the host of the evening as well. “She’s everything I wanna be when I’m 57 - ouch-uh!” He whined when Bianca slapped his arm.

“Hey I heard that asshole!” She scolded making Alaska laugh, a laugh that was quickly hidden when a not so subtle glare and a disapproving shake of her head was thrown her way by Sharon.

“Go see if they need help in the kitchen, make yourself useful.” Bianca took her drink from him and pointed with the glass of white wine towards the door next to the bar.

“You too.” Sharon threw Alaska’s way.

“Wait no.” Chad stopped her. “I want to take a look at this outfit first, you pick it?”

“No, Sharon did. It’s not what I’d normally wear.” She began explaining looking down at her half naked chest, the comment making her blush proudly. “But I actually love it, it’s very cu…”

“Yes yes, you’re very fetching dear, now go fetch.” Sharon rolled her eyes in her usual uninterested fashion to keep herself from staring too much as Alaska sauntered off following Danny’s lead.

She founding herself bonding with her fellow assistant almost too easy, conversation flowing freely and inside jokes already sticking between them.

Jinkx however who had been stirring some kind of soup when they went in hadn’t even gotten so much as a how are you from her.

She still had an off sense of competitiveness towards the older ginger and after seeing her so casually and over friendly with Sharon in her office that morning she was ready to dip her face in said soup.

Not that she was a bad person, she seemed pleasant enough but something about her made Alaska’s gut bubble with jealousy.

“How much longer you think it’s gon’ be?” Bianca came into the room at one point to check on the dinner’s progress soon after Jinkx had taken the soup starter off the stovetop.

Alaska wouldn’t normally have been this nosey but seeing Bianca’s arm so lovingly thrown over Danny’s waist, a sight she didn’t ever get to see at the office, made her curious. And envious.

It made her long for Sharon more than anything else, it made her wish the older woman would come in and do the same.

Envisioning her forearm with the small bat wings tattooed on it wrapping around her ribs to pull her into her embrace where she would drop her head into her collar for Sharon to place a peck on her forehead.

Running her fingertips and her freshly manicured, considerably shorter thank God, nails through her tangled hair and across her scalp, disturbing the cute puffy top knot buns.

She’d then say something witty and annoyed about Alaska always coming undone so easily and they’d laugh it off while she fixed her hair for her.

But none of that happened.

She knew none of that would happen but still a girl could dream. Even when another woman with big black hair and a sweet Disney esch voice came in to introduce herself and help with the meal preparation she kept daydreaming.

Pictures of Sharon’s hand wandering across her inner thigh like they did at the Runway gala, or even her fingernails scratching up and down her forearm that laid on the table while they ate their meal flashing through her mind.

Taking her back home when they were done after their final glass of wine or coffee where she’d pull her into her lap in the big lush chair in the living room.

Kissing her with as much passion as she did while they were getting dressed but this time she’d be able to return it. Able to run her hands up into Sharon’s hair with no concerns of getting smacked, no concerns of being scolded for messing up her hair but just soft kisses along her jaw.

Then she’d take her to bed where she’d sit on her face and then fall asleep with her arms around her, whispering how much she loves her as they fall asleep together.

But somewhere the back of her mind began producing images of Jaremi too. Her little scenario reminding her of him too much - trying to keep up appearances of a happy couple all night but then getting home where they’d fight, fuck and go to bed.

“Let me touch up your lips before dinner.” The voice of the woman she’d been fantasizing about spoke behind her.

“What’s wrong with them?” She tried, and failed, shaking off the sinking feeling in her gut. Hoping Sharon wouldn’t pick up on it if she didn’t turn away from the dishwasher where she’d been busy placing the utensils they’d used away.

“You smeared them, c’mon. Here.” Sharon’s heels could be heard clicking into place behind her.

When Alaska finally turned around ready to obey she was met with Sharon standing closer behind her than she’d expected, just one small step separating her from the finger pointed at the ground.

She also noticed for the first time that in her daydreaming the others had already left to go dish up for their waiting guests and that Sharon had taken off her coat.

The sleeves of her button up tucked into her pants now rolled up over her elbows exposing the tattoo she had envisioned wrapping around her.

“Now.” Sharon sighed when Alaska took the step forward. Unrolling the tube of lipstick she’d kept in her purse while her other hand kept her face still. Her thumb sliding softly over her cheekbone as a small act of comfort. “From one weirdo to another who’s done this one too many times before, why are you hiding away in here?”

“Was just thinking of this paper for my end semester I have to - “

“Bullshit.” Sharon stopped her harshly, bringing up the other hand as well to tilt her head to the side so she’d have to look her in the eyes. “Tell me.”

“I was hoping you’d come in here, and then you didn’t and I…I started thinking about Jaremi…” She admitted waiting for whatever negative response she’d get.

“Do you want to go back to him?” She asked with a hint of protectiveness in her soft voice to which Alaska feverishly shook her head no. “I’m just catching up with old friends, baby. God I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute.” There it was, that comment she’d been waiting for. She had to admit her heart skipped a beat from knowing Sharon so well, that or she was just way more predictable than she’d care to acknowledge.

“I’m good though.” She lied making Sharon lift her brows knowingly. “I will be, I’ll be good don’t worry.”

“Atta girl.” Sharon smiled at her kissing her forehead, her lips lingering against her scalp a minute before placing a kiss on her lips too. “Now c’mon, you’re being rude by making everyone wait.”

-

“Can I ask a question?” Alaska finally asked when they got into the ride home.

“It you have to.” Sharon groaned rubbing her eyes with her thumb and index finger.

“Why the pants?”

“Sorry?” She looked up confused from under her lashes, her hand still hovering over her forehead moving towards Alaska’s back.

“You always pick really showing dresses for me, why pants?”

“I didn’t trust either of us in skirts tonight.” She admitted, leaning closer to her so she could graze her hand up from her knee to her inner thigh where it gave a tight squeeze as her other hand drew her in closer so she could kiss her neck. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands from wandering.”

Alaska released an involuntary moan and instantly felt her cheeks growing red, embarrassingly red. Quickly squeezing her legs shut to avoid Sharon’s hand repeating what it had done at dinner.

Shortly after they’d returned to the dinner table Sharon introduced her to her ‘prodigy designer’ Giovanni, a young boy who recently turned 20 that she’d been grooming to be one of the greatest names in fashion before he’s even 25.

The same one who so politely complimented her pants, reciting the way it was made and how there had been exactly 5 of them made thus far before he asked who the genius was that designed ‘the simply fabulous garmet’.

To which she blushingly smiled acknowledging him as said genius and started a conversation about how Raja’s punch had to be avoided at all costs unless she also wanted to end up in Hoboken in just a poncho. After that they all sat down to enjoy their well earned meal.

Almost all of them, Alaska hadn’t even taken one spoonful of her soup before she felt Sharon’s fingertips graze against her crotch. Playing it off as simply missing when she tried to take her hand so they could say grace.

After that eating felt impossible, every time she’d let her guard down to eat she’d feel long lanky fingers prodding through the fabric at the soft part of her inner thigh right next to her clit.

Granted it wasn’t all bad. Throughout the night aided by copious amounts of fine wines that were expertly paired with each dish and a lot of reminiscing Alaska had gotten to know the human side of Sharon.

Not just glimpses here or there but she actually seemed to enjoy herself, laughing with the group as they recounted stories of their college days together. It was as if she could picture herself and her roommates joining in in 10 or even 20 years and they’d still be as cheerful.

Halfway through the night there were no longer and snuck stares or longing gazes between courses at each other, Sharon’s hand was either resting on Alaska’s thigh or holding hers. It was better than any of her fantasies could’ve conjured.

By the end of the meal while they were having coffee before dessert the topic had switched to their assistant days at Runway. When Chad held Bianca’s position and she was merely a credited deigned in the back pages.

And while they were in full nostalgic swing Sharon rested with her hand in her palm as the other leaned across to scratch lazy patterns and shapes into Alaska’s forearm.

They were finally at peace, and she wasn’t ready for it to end.

“Told you if you were good you’d get to play.” Sharon growled in her ear tugging at her lobe but releasing it just in time so the driver opening her door wouldn’t catch them.

Sharon strutted as powerfully and effortlessly as she always did into her apartment building with Alaska nervously dawdling behind her all the way till the elevator where they were met with a young ish looking couple who quickly ran out when the saw the ever fear striking Miss Needles walking their way.

“Never gets old.” Sharon winked in her direction when the doors closed behind them.

She’d waited for Sharon to suddenly pounce her like she had done that first night together behind these very closed doors but instead the older woman had seemed far too distracted with some business email on her phone.

Giving up on the prospect of being ravished right there and then Alaska took a deep breath and slowly released it again, feeling like for the first time all day she could take a breather without the fear of what might happen to her next. Or the impending cloud that loomed over her scared of what impression she’d make on the other guests.

“Let’s go, my beautiful little girl.” Sharon stroked her hand with the back of hers, cocking her head when the elevator doors opened.

With a possessive hand on her hip Sharon lead her towards the front door where she told her to remove her make up, undress carefully to avoid ruining the outfit and then wait for her in bed while she finished her work for the evening.

Like the good little pet she had grown to be and honestly sick to death of having to walk around in the ungodly tall boots she had been in all night or the thick make up, she made her way up the stairs and into the en suite bathroom.

Just like she had done earlier in the evening she rid herself of any troubles, metaphorically of course, with two square cotton wipes and a simple tug of her pants.

Carefully stepping out of her shoes as well as the far too expensive pants but deciding to keep on the top since it matched the now, thanks to Sharon’s relentless teasing, ruined panties.

Making her way to the oversized bed where she’d napped in earlier after splashing some cold water on her face.

Sitting up on her knees first she double checked that she was once again, and 100% authentically this time, Alaska. Alaska plus some new bruises but Alaska none the less.

“God they would not stop droning on would they?” Sharon exasperatedly sighed leaning against the bedroom door with one hand so the other could take of her pumps. “That top is cute on you by the way remind me to get you another one.”

“Why another one?” Alaska inquired to no avail, scooting over to the edge of the bed where Sharon had plopped herself down onto with her pants already unbuttoned.

She began helping her undress by first sliding off her jacket for her. “Thank you my love, my neck is killing me.”

“Can I?”

“You may.” Sharon corrected her as if correcting a child, running her fingers through her hair while Alaska leaned over her shoulders to unbutton her shirt further as she began nipping along each new piece of exposed skin.

Aided in her unclothing process when the older stood up and turned to face her so she could grab the bottom of the shirt and pull it out of her pants before she carefully maneuvered it off as well.

Hesitantly at first kissing her stomach where some faint red lines had formed on her skin from the tight pants digging into her. Her eyes locked on Sharon’s every move, even the way her chest rose and fell rhythmically.

God it was like everything she did was beautiful, and she couldn’t keep herself from looking away for even a second in case she missed it.

“Let me go take my make up of first.” Sharon took one of the hands creeping into her pants along her waist, kissing her knuckles before she removed her pants herself and wandered off into the bathroom.

Repeating the same process Alaska did but adding an extra step in which she washed the product out of her hair first.

Flicking off the bathroom light so it would really look like she was Nosferatu himself as she sauntered back towards the bed now in just her ungodly sexy lingerie and nothing else, not even a stitch of make up.

“You’re pretty.” Alaska yawned wiggling her butt so she’d be sitting more comfortably on her knees as she watched Sharon slip the straps of her bra off and unhook her garters.

“Unhook me please.” The older asked disregarding her compliment with her back turned to her. Giving Alaska a grade A view of her perfectly curved ass while she helped her remove her final items of clothing. Even her panties. “Thank you.” She smiled turning around to crawl onto the bed with her.

Her hand stretching on onto Alaska’s bare stomach to give her a hard push so she’d smack down onto the bed.

Crawling over on top of her towards her face, or that’s how it seemed from Alaska’s point of view, instead she stopped when she reached her navel.

Taking two small bites along each hip bone as her eyes stayed locked on the glittery browns of Alaska’s eyes she lowered herself onto her elbows, tilting herself lower so she’d be able to lean back on her knees and give the pool of lust that stained the thin white panties a long slow lick.

“Oh fu…” Alaska breathed out dropping her head.

Sharon’s cheeks spread into a devilish grin as she watched Alaska worming around in the sheets from just one small touch. “This is gonna’ be fun.”

She placed another quick kiss right where she’d licked and then another on her thigh next to it, then between her hips, then her navel. Continuing till she reached Alaska’s neck where she carefully, making sure she didn’t hurt her, bit into the bruises on her neck before giving each a lick.

Her fingers sliding across the fabric as carefully as possible while her free hand held the back of her head, coaching her up to look her in the eyes.

“If you’re still sore tell me okay?” She made Alaska promise first before she sat back up, straddling the smaller girl’s waist to hook her hands into the cleavage of her tank top. “But we won’t be needing this anymore.”

“I thought…” Alaska instantly jumped up onto her elbows in a panicked daze when she saw Sharon pulling her arms apart to rip the shirt straight down the middle. “That’s worth more than a year’s world of my rent and you just…”

“Tonight.” Sharon interrupted her matter of factly with a kiss. “I don’t care.”

Another kiss.

“No rules.”

Another.

“You can touch.”

Another.

“Kiss, cum, scream.”

Another.

“As you please.” This time instead of a kiss she sat back pulling Alaska up into her lap. “No rules, no restraints. You know why?”

“Hm-mh.” Alaska bit her lip to hide her cheeky grin as she shook her head, drunk of Sharon’s touch.

“Because, I love you.”

[thesydneyfeminists]

6 Kick-Ass Women on International Women’s Day

March 8th is International Women’s Day, and what better way to celebrate than to share a few of my favourite women in pop culture? Fictional and non-fictional, because the heart wants what it wants. This is not an exhaustive list by any means, because there are millions of kick-ass women out there doing their thing, but these are some of the first women who spring to mind for me.

Image Description: A photo of a white, wooden block calendar set on a light pink and white floral fabric background. A longer, rectangular block with the word “March” written in all capital letters in dark grey is on the bottom. A larger, square block with the number “8″ written in the same dark grey is on the top.

 Cristina Yang (Grey’s Anatomy)

I grew up in a time where there weren’t many prominent Asian characters in TV shows or movies. If they were there, they were relegated to background extras or secondary characters that are supposed to be a passing joke or a harmful stereotype. And truth be told, Cristina does sometimes fall into the overachieving Asian trope. But the way Sandra Oh played the character made her likeable and not an over-the-top, offensive stereotype that we’ve seen countless times before. Seeing Cristina on Grey’s was so new, so fresh - she was a character I could look at and go “oh hey, someone who’s written for me”. Not to mention, I hadn’t really seen too many Korean characters before, especially one played by a Korean-Canadian actress, which is a bonus. So, here was someone who looked a little like me, and was smart, sassy, and real. She was funny for the right reasons, not at the expense of herself, but because she was quick and witty (it also helped Sandra Oh’s comic timing is impeccable). Cristina also had some pretty excellent advice (regardless of some of the storylines, Cristina Yang is ride or die, and I won’t hear anything else) some of which are summed up nicely here: https://www.theodysseyonline.com/11-times-cristina-yang-gave-best-advice. Sandra Oh’s portrayal of her character came at a time when I desperately needed to see representation, and Cristina definitely left her mark on my life.

Image Description: A photo of Korean-American actress, Sandra Oh, with her hands in her pockets. She is in costume as her character on Grey’s Anatomy, Cristina Yang, with dark blue scrubs and a white lab coat. She is looking directly at the camera with a slight, closed-mouth smile.

Veronica Mars (Veronica Mars)

Honestly, I don’t know many people who have finished watching Veronica Mars without thinking Veronica is cool as hell. She’s this badass, teenage girl who went through some traumatic experiences but came away from them tough, strong and ready to fight back. Which, admittedly, viewed through a 2019 lens comes across a little clichéd and tired. But, back in 2004, I hadn’t yet learned about the trope that’s far too common when men try to write female characters. Lazy or not, I think what makes Veronica one of my favourite characters is that even though the whole situation is unrealistic (she’s a teenage private detective), the way she reacts to her circumstances is realistic. She makes mistakes. Oh boy, she makes a tonne of mistakes. But Veronica has a good heart and, if I had to sum her up, I’d say “she’s trying her best”, a saying I always strongly related to. And, listen, the girl has a taser and isn’t afraid to use it. I respect that.

Faith Lehane (Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel)

Anyone who knows me in real life can attest I will go down swinging when it comes to defending Faith. Right from the moment she stepped her biker boots into Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I was a fan. Faith was the slayer from the “wrong side of the tracks”, less fortunate in life than the show’s heroine. She was the “dark/evil slayer” and she was the best character that ever happened to that show. I think my pattern of favourite characters is becoming clearer … if you’re rough on the outside with a soft interior, that’s apparently my jam. Faith had a tough childhood and then made mistakes when she was 16, mistakes Buffy and her friends punished her for. She was so deeply unhappy with the path she’d taken but thought that was all she was good for. She even begs Angel to kill her because she’s “evil”. That scene is still my favourite scene in the whole BtVS universe, not going to lie, and Faith’s redemption arc is beautiful. At any given time, she proved she could’ve broken out of prison. But she stayed because she was trying to atone and be better than she was. Honestly, Faith is a blessing.

Anna Akana (YouTube)

I found Anna fairly late in the game - she had already been making videos for a few years when a friend linked me to her video Why Guys Like Asian Girls. I thought it was hilarious, relatable, and summed up everything I’ve ever thought about dating and my experiences as an Asian woman. From that one video, I was hooked. As I watched more and more, I learnt about her life. Her videos play out as comedy sketches where she plays different roles. Through them, she tackles every day advice and shares stories about her life. When Anna was a teenager, her younger sister committed suicide. Since then, Anna has been a strong advocate for suicide prevention. She’s talked about it in various videos, as well as in her books. She is upfront and honest about the aftermath of the suicide and her reactions. More than just a “YouTuber”/content creator, Anna is a wearer of many hats. She writes, produces, acts, directs (not only in her own YouTube videos, but in external projects too). And she’s written two books. One was a series of journal entries she wrote after her sister died, and the other was a memoir /guide to life that she wrote as a series of letters to her younger sister. There’s no doubt what happened in her family influences the way she views the world and has made Anna who she is today: an upfront and honest woman with a big heart and the gift to make people laugh.  

Jenna Marbles / Mourey (YouTube)

Apparently, all I do is watch TV or YouTube, because one of my other favourite women is Jenna Mourey (more commonly known by her YouTube alias Jenna Marbles). Although she is one of the “OGs” of YouTube and found her success after going viral, Jenna’s video style has changed over the years. What I’ve always loved about Jenna is she’s undeniably herself. Especially lately, she’s taken to making videos she jokingly refers to as “me time”, which include things like painting herself to look like her armchair, covering herself in green paint to blend into her green screen or gluing rhinestones all over her face, just to name a few! She credits her success to being genuine, to being herself, and to releasing content that makes her laugh. In my opinion, she succeeds. Jenna’s been one of my favourite YouTube creators since the beginning, and I was lucky enough to meet her a few years back. She’s every bit as humble, sweet and funny as she comes across in her videos.

Image Description: A photo of Jenna Marbles’ head and shoulders against an off-white background. Marbles is a white woman with brown hair pulled up in a ponytail. She is wearing a neon pink, snakeskin-patterned shirt and has silver rhinestones glued to the bottom of her face in the shape of a beard. She is looking just beneath the camera lens and her mouth is slightly ajar.

Tee Linden (Writer)

This one may be cheating a little, but I couldn’t in good conscience write a list of my favourite women and not include my best friend/platonic life partner and soul mate. Tee scrapes into the pop culture theme on a technicality by being a talented poet and writer, able to create whole universes within a few sentences. We’ve known each other for 25+ years now and have gone through the many ups and downs of life together. Tee makes me laugh in a way no one else does - the kind of laughter that physically hurts because there’s so much of it. The smartest, fiercest and most supportive woman I know, she makes everything she does look easy. In that way, and many others, we’re complete opposites. I feel as though I struggle through everything and that it shows. But our differences have always made our friendship stronger. When everyone else lets me down, I know I can rely on Tee to pick up a conversation we had five years ago and continue on as though no time has passed and nothing has changed at all.

Honestly, I could go on forever and list so many more women. But these are the ones that immediately came to mind when I tasked myself with coming up with women who inspire me. I have countless women in my life who I’m so incredibly blessed to know and even more that I’m yet to meet. So, this International Women’s Day, take a moment to acknowledge the women who shaped your life, who you admire and look up to. The ones who fought for us before we could, the ones who are still fighting and the ones who are paving the way for a better future. Support your sisters, not just your cis-ters, and remember women are magic. When we get together, we change the world.

By: Vee H

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of the Sydney Feminists. Our Blogger and Tumblr serve as platforms for a diverse array of women to put forth their ideas and explore topics. To learn more about the philosophy behind TSF’s Blogger/ Tumblr, please read our statement here: https://www.sydneyfeminists.org/a

[babblingblondegenius]

Future Ficlet: All You Need is Love...and Coffee

Wow, tonight’s episode was brutal.  Between the painful Olicity separation in present time and the lack of Olicity in the dark future of the flash-forwards, we aren’t seeing any of the happy right now.  There seems to be no hope. Our heroes’ sacrifices were all in vain.  Basically, everything sucks.

As kismet would have it, a couple of weeks ago, I shared a fun little head canon with @allimariexf and @hope-for-olicity and they both encouraged me to ‘write the thing.’  I’ve had a terrible case of writer’s block for quite some time (meaning I have a gazillion story ideas and a ton of WIPs that are unfinished).  I expected this one to end up dormant in my drafts as well.  But after tonight’s episode, I felt the need to finish it because we (and Olicity, of course) deserve a little hope and happy.  Set two years in the future, the premise of this little fluffy ficlet is that Felicity needs an assistant but she has particular criteria ;)  

This should have been the easy part.  

After months of enticing investors, obtaining the proper licenses and permits, all the legal mumbo jumbo, and locating the perfect office space, hiring an executive assistant is going to be the breaking point where she finally loses her sanity.  

Which completely defeats the purpose of trying to find someone to help her in the first place.

She has been doing fine on her own, thriving actually, since she decided it was time to recommence building a tech company from the ground up, sans Curtis this time.   This venture, for better or worse, will be all hers.  Her vision.  Her name. Her legacy.

Despite her initial apprehension at that thought, she has a clarity and confidence in her mission and goals that has propelled her forward at a pace she couldn’t have imagined.  So far, choosing which of her many prototypes she wanted to launch first has been her biggest challenge.

Until now.  

She had narrowed down the stack of over 100 applications to the eight most qualified for the position, and began the interview process at 7:00 this morning.  

The first one had been punctual, neat, and lacking any sort of personality whatsoever.  

The second one arrived twenty minutes late and then interrupted Felicity mid-interview to take a non-emergency personal call on her cell phone.

The third one tapped her super long artificial nails on the edge of Felicity’s desk the entire time and included ‘loud typer’ when asked how her current co-workers would describe her.

The fourth one was a chaotic whirlwind who overshared details of his personal life on every single question.

Maybe he just had too much caffeine in his system. Or maybe she doesn’t have enough.

Coffee.  She needs coffee.  Her next interviewee isn’t scheduled to come in for another hour, so she takes the reprieve to just lay her head down on her desk for a moment in order to gather up the energy she needs to make the trek down the block for her caffeine fix.

“One vanilla soy latte, extra sugar, extra cinnamon, extra whip cream.”  

Oh yes.  That’s exactly what she wants.  Why she is thinking it in Oliver’s voice, she doesn’t know.  Her coffee daydream is so vivid, she can even smell the soothing notes of vanilla with hints of sweet cinnamon spice wafting through the air. Mmmmmmmm.

“Felicity….honey, are you okay?”  Oliver’s voice again.  She slowly lifts her head and sees her husband standing on the other side of her desk, holding a large cup emblazoned with the logo of her favorite java joint and her name scrawled across it in black marker.

“I am now,” she practically purrs as he hands over her treasured treat.  After taking a deep inhale and a long swallow, she blissfully smiles at him.  “It’s perfect.  You’re perfect.”  Suddenly jumping up out of her chair, she shares the revelation brought on by the jolt of caffeine in her system. “Oh!  I have a great idea!  You should apply to be my EA.”  

Oliver chuffs out a laugh.  “Because I brought you coffee?  Your standards must be pretty low.”  

“Worried you couldn’t cut it, Mr. Queen?” she asks, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

“I think my time served as Mayor proves otherwise,” he retorts with an air of gravitas but mimics her gesture, silently letting her know that he enjoys her teasing him and is willing to play along.  

She shakes her head.  “Nope, not helpful.  You couldn’t even get me a break on my taxes when you were the mayor.  What are your current qualifications?”

He ponders the inquiry for a moment before responding proudly, “I’m the head chef at Chez Queen.”

She rolls her eyes at Oliver’s corny moniker for their kitchen but gives him an encouraging smile.  “Oh yeah, I’ve eaten there a few times.  The food is magnificent.  But do you have any business experience?”

His expression goes from proud to smug.  “As a matter of fact, I do.  I was formerly the CEO of Queen Consolidated.”

She takes another swig of coffee and checks an incoming text on her cell phone before reminding him, “I happen to have first-hand knowledge you wouldn’t have made it a week without your super smart and highly efficient EA.”   

“That’s true,” he concedes with a grin, “though on the downside, she only brought me coffee one time.  One”, he repeats, taking her coffee and phone and setting them off to the side. Placing his palms flat on the edge of her desk, he leans in closer, a visible twinkle in his vivid blue eyes.   “I think she actually broke our coffeemaker.  Violently,” he teases in a conspiratorial whisper.

Mirroring her husband, she leans in over the desk until their noses are almost touching.  “A little violence doesn’t scare you, does it, Mr. Queen?”  She allows her gaze to run down the length of his torso, visibly appreciating the definition of his biceps that his jacket cannot conceal. “You look like you could handle yourself just fine.”

“I like to stay in shape.”  He feigns modesty but she knows her husband and can recognize that look in his eyes. “Some cardio, free weights, martial arts, salmon ladder…”

“That’s so hot” she blurts out, temporarily slipping out of character as her brain produces an amazing visual of sweaty and shirtless Oliver making his way up the salmon ladder.  Will there ever be a day when that doesn’t turn her on?  Probably not, and judging from the self-satisfied smirk on his face, he mentioned it on purpose just to get that very reaction out of her.   Determined to get back on track, she rephrases, “I mean, that sounds interesting.”  She decides a change of topic would be helpful to give her an advantage in their little game.  “Computer skills?”

She immediately regrets that question when Oliver gives her a feral smile that makes her weak in the knees.  Lowering his voice to the same octave he uses when he is dressed in green leather, he divulges, “I’ve hacked a federal prison network.”

Guh, game over.  In all her years with Oliver, that is the sexiest thing he has ever said. She quickly makes her way around the desk and invades his personal space. “Seems like you’re a man of many talents,” she coos appreciatively, latching onto his arm and nuzzling her face into the sleeve of his jacket to breathe in the scent that is uniquely Oliver.

“My wife taught me a thing or two,” he boasts, turning so they are face-to-face and he can wrap his arms around her.  

Her hands instinctively move from his arm to his chest, resting over his heart.  “She must be an amazing woman.”

Oliver nods in agreement, his nose nuzzling hers. “She is.  She’s the best.”

“I know you’re just saying that to get husband points and its working,” she acknowledges affectionately, her hand caressing the stubble on his jaw.   He tilts his head into her palm like a contented cat and she takes the opportunity to kiss him like she wanted to since she saw him in front of her desk, whether it was five minutes ago with coffee or nine years ago with a bullet-ridden laptop.  

Oliver moans and deepens the kiss, the fervent strokes of his tongue making her long for more.  “Okay, you’re hired,” she pants, breaking the kiss when her need for air temporarily overcomes her need for Oliver.  “Smoak Tech is a start-up so your health care package consists of me patching you up if you are injured and I’m sure we can work out some type of compensation for your time and skills,” provocatively shifting her body against his and feeling his obvious interest through his jeans and her skirt.  Two soft kisses and one firm rotation of his hips later, she is internally debating the sturdiness of her desk and whether they have time for her to show him exactly what she means by ‘compensation’ before her next appointment shows up.

“That’s a very tempting offer, Ms. Smoak” he murmurs into her hair as his hand travels down her back and immediately finds its usual place on the curve of her shapely ass, pulling her impossibly closer, “but I’m afraid my current employer really needs me right now and I just can’t bear to leave her,” his free hand gesturing to the stroller where their daughter slumbers peacefully.

Felicity sighs, pure happiness filling her heart and clearing her mind as she rests her head on her husband’s chest to gaze lovingly at the chubby-cheeked, perfect amalgamation of her and Oliver they brought into the world just four short months ago.   “Sounds like she has you wrapped around her little finger.”  

Oliver rests his chin on the top of her head and she can hear the love and contentment in his voice when he whispers in her hair, “From the very first moment I met her.  She takes after her mother that way.”

A/N:  Thank you for reading!  I hope this helped to soothe the sting of all the angst.  Queen family feels FTW.  William was not in this fic because at that time of day, he should be in school and also I didn’t want to traumatize him any further with Olicity’s blatant flirty flirt.  The poor kid has seen enough already lol.  

Huge thanks and virtual hugs to @allimariexf and @hope-for-olicity for all the fun conversations and being all around wonderful :)

Oliver’s ‘current employer’ ;)

[solidburnreturned]

by popular demand, here is my oc chatter regarding stuff like relationships n random character traits. its rly long oops but i divided it by character at least lmao,, these are all things that i think id also wanna use if i ever use these characters as humans (which i def will at some point honestly)

- i thinkkkk i want toad and pike to date. toad would come across pike in their lagoon one day while hes wandering around on another wonked exploration and pike is like hey lol :B with their pointy teeth and long ass hair and toad is like :0 he just sits and talks with pike for hours and comes by a few times a week to hang out with them. they fall in LOVE

- fred and lani are def gonna date too. two butches who use he/him pronouns fuck yeah? they have a powerful relationship. mega BDE. power couple. not a lot of pda but alone together theyre both very loving and tender, its a vulnerability thing for both of them. like lani is very cool and can be either stoic or borderline obnoxious while fred is punkish. fred is very head over heels for lani tho 

- mardi n berg.....complicated....i gotta figure out how they actually end up together. berg is a jogger and mardi is a piercer/tattoo artist so that doesnt....make them line up very much in that department. ill think about it more and figure something out. itll probably have something to do with berg’s nose stripes and eye rings

- also side note on mardi......i want his backstory to include a grey period set off by his brother being eaten when they were both young at the troll tree. like he becomes angry and depressed, sorta like branch, his tattoos that he gives himself the only color on his body, until he learns to let go and his colors come back (high key this was inspired by 21 savage, mardi’s voice claim, and the line in his new song A Lot “my brother lost his life and it turned me to a beast”). ill develop this idea further but i just wanted to get it written down

- bismuth.......unsure. they had a crush on pepper and kept trying to ask her out until she came out to them as a lesbian, then they were like :’) but theyre ride or die theyre not gonna be an ass to her because they cant date her. they just care a lot about her. its like icarly

- gazpacho and jupiter CUTE two small trans trolls in That Love. i need to develop them more but. theyre just cute 

- talia is still a little too new for me to develop her......but im thinkin about it...

- kinda same with ernie and olive. they kinda mostly just exist as cute babby characters right now? if anything olive is a trouble maker and ernie is a chatterbox

- clem and thursday also fuckin cute as hell......clem was a nervous wreck asking thursday out but theyve been together like ever since, which is more than a few years. they have a rly cute gentle lovey dovey relationship. thursday is usually hanging around up on her gf’s shoulder giving her kisses on the cheek

- bea and crystal.......adorabl relationship......crystal is another character thats kinda nervous but bea is so chill n confident is helps calm her down. theyre both trans and love the hell out of each other. rly slow n steady relationship, bea is very patient

- pj and marcus!!!! dumb mlm rep relationship. pj is so so gay for marcus he can barely comprehend it. its a dumb ego boost for marcus but hes also very in love with pj, he just expresses it in a weird cocky way idk marcus is a nerd. i need to make more content for them i think about these two way more than it seems

- dwight!! he has a boat. he lives on the boat.....ive thought about maybe pairing him with toad and pike. deciding on his voice claim has been the most difficult thing ever

- kass and current HELL yeah buff gf and tol gf......they spar with swords and wrestle for fun and hang out at the beach a lot. kass fuckin loves the gem on current’s back. i gotta make more content for them 

- celia......i wanna do more with celia. friends with berg probs theyre both sporty. shes just a sweet giant troll who loves mushrooms. i gotta pair her with someone whose palette goes nicely with her pastels 

- carrot and harriet are literally cricket and tilly from big city greens just older. yeehaw siblings. havent thought about relationship stuff with harriet yet.....i think she also needs ANOTHER redesign her colors are just too heavy still. maybe if i can make her colors compliment celia’s that could work as a pairing? hm hm.....carrot tho is dating ford’s oc rye theyre gentle country gays

- rainer. hm. i dont think theyre rly the dating type......theyre just chill with being them. they just wanna swim and be funny

- hammond and andromeda are probs two of my least developed characters.....hammond still needs a redesign. he might be cute to pair with walter, theyre around the same age. andromeda tho i have no idea. she might be a nice pairing with eve? if i ever feel like pairing her with someone...who knows. eve is very carefree and might find andromeda’s energy too intense

- radish i wanna make more content for!! i rly like her a lot....i think shes another troll who isnt interested in dating. shes very focused on being a chef instead. loves her friends a lot!

- mack and pepper 2gether 4ever obvs......they have a relationship that gets richer with age for sure

- im just gonna ramble about mack. i thinkkkkkkk i wanna make her half latina? columbian specifically. she doesnt quite read as white and i didnt make her with the intention of making her white. anyway i love mack a whole lot and should really develop her backstory more. its not rly as like...””tragic”” or whatever as pepper’s i know that but she def has layers. i wanna give her whole family more depth. she has a very complicated relationship with her own feelings and motivations that i need to think about more fully. my powerful femme tho i lov her

- mack’s parents, robin and champagne, i need to like....think about them more. they have kinda a comedic relationship thats sorta inspired by roger rabbit and jessica rabbit. robin is a very caring, gentle troll who’s very smart and cares a lot about his nursing responsibilities in the village. champagne is very relaxed and the “voice of reason” character of the family. she loves a good party and has her party planning down to a science. both are very successful power parents. kickass family

- i already talked about topaz and marney in a separate post but i still love them both so much. big wesbiabs

- pepper....pebber. im gonna talk about her the most obviously gfhjdkrs i wanna talk about her mental health i feel like i think about it a lot but i never write about it explicitly? this is gonna be long oops hgjfksd she has depression and ptsd stemming from the trauma of her crash...im thinking she also has adhd and thats just something shes always had. her depression rly got heavy during her recovery and right after like...she hated being bed/housebound and felt rly powerless to her situation and just let it eat at her until her personality had actually changed considerably. like extroverted wild child rebel to introverted, soft-spoken sulker. this got better with time but she still is pretty introverted, just turned her moodiness into chill energy. 

- she has bad depression habits like letting dishes, old food, laundry, or just stuff pile up in her room until it gets overwhelming and she spends like two days just manically cleaning; or staying in bed for way longer than she should and messing with her hygiene; or eating way more or way less than she should eat in a day. just stuff thats hard to completely break out of when youre recovering. her color is pretty consistently the dark red but if shes having a particularly rough day she might look a little paler, or like a muddy brick color at her worst. thats kinda rare tho

- her ptsd is the thing she hates the most. for a while it made her feel very weak and she’d beat herself up over being traumatized by the crash which was obviously not helpful to her mental state but she was really all over the place during her bodily recovery. its part of the reason why she started working out, she wanted to reclaim some sort of feeling of strength and power that she felt she’d lost completely. she still gets really frustrated with this feeling of loss but she gets a lot of support from loved ones which has helped her not self-blame so much. her ptsd manifests mostly as nightmares/insomnia, chronic headaches/stomachaches, intrusive thoughts and sometimes flashbacks. the nightmares are what rly get to her, she really doesnt get a lot of good sleep and it can get to the point where she just doesnt want to sleep sometimes and she’ll stay awake until she crashes hard

- her scars used to be a big trigger for her ptsd, which is why she has her bangs covering the one on her face and wears long pants (her knee braces are too bulky for pants and would force her to wear shorts which would force her to expose her scars). she just. really really hates them. this is something she struggles with for a majority of her life

- once she and mack start going steady with their dating and start consistently sleeping in the same bed, pepper starts to sleep better. she still has nightmares that wake her up at least weekly, but having mack there to comfort her (whether she wakes mack up accidentally or if mack is already awake) helps a TON with getting her back to sleep soundly. it also just helps her sleep in general to have that comforting, loving presence in her bed snuggled up to her ;w; mack is a big help in general with pepper’s mental health, pushing pepper to make better, healthier choices and get out in the village more and have fun. mack for sure does not “”cure”” pepper of anything but shes a very positive light in pepper’s life that helps her pull thru tough times!

- i love all my goofy trolls so much. its so fun to just chill and blab about them to relax between working on big projects ;o; ty if u cared enough to read this whole thing ur so rad