#begging on the internet does fucking nothing for me but i have nowhere else to go

[snailcubezz]

ahaha . more of family's getting increasingly bad health complications likely from just living in this fucking house. Haha. Gets Scared

[emeraldbabygirl]

Today I learned that J.Heart from N.Sonic married a fan, there’s a whole video of it on YouTube please I’m so drained I’m dropping green slime like the gremlin I am. I know so many older ex idols of kpop groups where and how is this happening ugh what in the y/n wattpad having ass I beg and beg and I get nothing. Where is my hot husband? I don’t think I’m being selfish I think I deserve some eye candy in my life I think I’ve been through enough. GD hello I’m single and I’m free just let me know and I’ll give you my address please. Takuya pay for my plane ticket and I go to Japan for you or wherever your sexy ass is juseyo please? 🥺 and it’s always the ex idols or older idols like I get it, relationships and communication and commitment and language barriers and sexy people and I’m LITERALLY THE LIL GREMLIN UNDER LEE JUNGSHINS BED EATING HIS TOENAILS I AM STARVING PLEASE and it’s the older male idols and the older female idols I bawled my entire pussy out when I found out Miss Ma’am Moon Hyuna from 9Muses was not only married but had a child ugh. ALL MY 9MUSES WIFES ARE MARRIED TO PEOPLE THAT ARE LESS PRETTY THAN THEM BUT MORE PRETTY THAN ME WHERE IS

IM PERFECTLY AVERAGE AMD SLIGHLTY MENTALLY UNSTABLE AND HATE LITERALLY EVERYONE AND HAVE SO MANY PROBLEMS IN GENERAL BUT KAIN MY LOVE LEE SANG THE LOVE OF MY LIFE FOR ONE MAN I CAN MANAGE.

IF I HAVE TO SETTLE FOR JAY OR NIKI FROM EPIPEN OR..KEEHOS GEN Z ASS I FUCKING WILL I WILL TAKE THEM AND RUN CAUSE I HAVE NO MORE HOPE FOR ME. Call me a dramatic lil bitch but I’m so jealous and I blame my father for my intoxicatingly tragic fear of men ??? but wanting a relationship listen I know it doesn’t make sense trust me I am a walking ball of “brain isn’t braining” as the kids say these days. Either some entity or god or fate or whatever you want to call it has something beyond my wildest dreams in store for me later or I just have bad luck and all said spiritual entities really hate me that much. I know I’m being dramatic but the greesy lil gaslighting mouthwashphobic gremlin jumped out and I can no longer hold her back. I am as unhinged as my twitter and that’s just the way I am. I just get jealous of people in relationships because I tell myself I’m not interested and then I want one and then I don’t and then I say I’m a walking self defense mechanism and then I cry that I’m single and ugly but I don’t do anything to care about being pretty or taking care of myself like I swear my 3 braincells and the 5% of my good personality are a catch. My sweet Erwin Pattrick Pennors please 💍 man jealously is one hell of a drug “frfr” as the kids say these days. I just want to be happy but I feel like if I don’t get in a relationship or if I don’t do this or this I won’t be happy or if this does happen, what if the wattpad y/n gods actually bless my shitty life and I don’t like it and I’m not happy then what? Is it the disappointment of the future fueling my rage or is it the unknown. IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE JESUS MAKE IT MAKE SENSE PLEASE IM SO TIRED OF EXISTING FOR THE SAME ROUTINE EVERYDAY YET IM TOO TERRIFIED TO DO ANYTHING ELSE IM LITERALLY PERFECT FOR SOMEONE WHO IS MENTALLY UNWELL LIKE ME 😭😭😭😭😭

ALSO YES I AM JEALOUS OF PLEASE THAT GET TO GO TO CONCERTS AND FANMEETS AND HAVE FANCALLS AND GET NOTICED BY THEIR FAVS ON THE INTERNET AND GET TO RANDOMLY MEET IDOLS OUT OF NOWHERE OKAY ITS TAKEN FOREVER FOR ME TO ADMIT CAUSE I STUFFED IT DOWN MY THROAT AS MY ANXIETY COULD NEVER I AM AFRAID OF MEN I HATE LARGE CROWDS I CANT DO IRL WITH REAL PEOPLE AND MAYBE SOME OF THAT IS TRUE OKAY I do get nervous around humans of the male species that are strangers and idols are no different but everyone gets nervous when they meet an idol right? Not just my ass thinking “I’m quirky” for whatever bs situation I made up in my head I get it I do but jeez I have to be so damn loud about it and literally no one fucking cares they don’t. Kain and Lee Sang and Daeil and Rolling Quartz and Grace and other idols don’t care about what I say they just appreciate the kind words like anyone does. I have been trying to get Kain to look at my insta for like 2 months and no it’s so dumb and not worth it like I just am not the main character and never will be I’m too mentally off and ugly and dramatic and just the vibes are like static and a sharp object to a balloon. Some things just don’t and won’t work out no matter how much you want it too. If it takes an another famously “delulu” rant on all my social media’s to discover this than so be it.

Maybe in 2023 I should stick to working on my own problems and my mental health and focus on driving and learning how to adult instead of wanting a hot husband and all these toxic scenarios I come up with in my head. I get jealous of people on social media who get famous and are followed or known by idols ya’know I think sometimes everyone does but some people just do things in a way that the pieces just fall together and that’s just it.

Good lord I think I’m done now I’m still jealous and sometimes I get sad about it and I might later cause ya’know

✨ moon tingz ✨

I’m fine fine ya’know. I just crave attention and want people to call me pretty and foam at the mouth and ya’know fun celeb stuff. I know I have friends that love me and give me compliments and I will forever be grateful for that no matter how long they are my friends but sometimes I just want one specific thing from one specific person even if it’s “delulu.” Anywee have this picture of something

[k3rm1e]

dadza & sbi

a continuation of yesterday’s ask-

hiiii i know i haz been lurk 🐮 Anoon for a good bitz but I haz an idea fro DadBoyHalo and Dadza(sepretz courze!!) havingz to take care of their very chaos childrenz(DadBoyHalo wif Sapnap + reader, Dadza with SBI + reader) ówò?

Thankz yuuuu!!!

-🐮 Anoon

🐮anon i am here with dadza! thank you for the patient waiting ;-;

i am referring to the samsung refrigerator as sam bc i have no clue what to address her as (ﾟωﾟ；)

this also went off track but whatever lmao

cw: swearing

dadza:

phil did not expect this when he decided to have kids. in the beginning, he was only planning on the one. wilbur was the sweetest kid ever when he was born. never caused any trouble, was peaceful. hell, the kid seemed like he would rather play music 24/7 before yelling at a single person. then again, his wife was always too caring.

when he traveled to the nether with sam, taking his son with him for the first time, he didn’t expect to acquire another kid. they were walking along an old path that had been made year before, when suddenly wilbur started shouting, pointing at a small pink figure.

the baby piglin was surrounded by bigger, larger piglins. they were trying to take his gold as he fearfully warded them off. sam, with her large heart, urged phil to go save the child as she protected wilbur. through a long fight with grunts and yells, he had saved the kid.

“hello, young one. are you alright?” the piglin regarded him suspiciously, not knowing if he would hurt him. phil, from the corner of his eye, saw the kid eyeing the gold on the ground. “you want your shit back, mate?” phil turned around and quickly picked up the goods. “here you go, kid.” and from there, he had suddenly acquired another ward.

within the next few years, tensions rose. the young piglin, who phil had named technoblade, was slowly learning english. he wanted to learn how to fight, to protect himself and not end up in a situation like the one phil had saved him from. sam did not approved of this, ever the passive refrigerator. phil and sam argued nearly all the time. wilbur and techno began spending more time together, out of the house.

“techno, it's not your fault. you know that right?” wilbur was walking with techno, his guitar on his back. the house was no longer a good place to hangout, so they walked into town.

“well of course its not, wil. i know that, at the very least. i’m just trying to protect myself, the same as phil does. in the future i could even win competitions, make us some extra money.” the two boys were walking and talking, when suddenly they ran into a loud blonde kid who was with someone else they couldn’t really see.

“hey! watch where you’re going, kid!” wilbur yelled a the shorter blonde, who knocked him over.

“oh, fuck off, will you? i didn’t mean to, you don’t have to be a prick about it.” wilbur looked flabergasted at this, a kid much younger than him having this type of mouth?

“hey! do not fucking speak to me that way, do you understand?” wilbur pointed at the two kids, looking like a so-called ‘karen’ in the internet compilations.

“oh come on, dude, you just swore and you look only a few years older than me! don’t be a fucking hypocrite.” you looked sternly at the brown-haired male, watching his mouth open and close, like a fish.

“wilbur, you know we both swore at that age. give them a break, will ya?” techno was smirking at the two of you, knowing he was pissing wilbur off.

“ugh, whatever techno. fuck off, mate.”

the two boys continued walking into town, done with the conversation. but your blonde friend, apparently, may not have been. “c’mon! let’s follow them!”

“uhh, why tommy? it’ll bring us nothing but trouble.” you were confused at what tommy was getting at, but you knew it was nothing good.

“and? trouble is my middle name, obviously.” he grabbed you hand and began dragging you in the direction the boys went.

when you arrived in town center, wilbur was seen talking to a shorter girl, while the piglin was arguing with a figure wearing green. tommy turned to you, “i’ll go talk to the cool one, you can go talk to the cunt who berated us for swearing.” knowing that once tommy made a decision he wouldn’t change his mind, you gave in.

walking over slowly, you noticed when you caught the boy’s attention. he looked over to you and his face darkened. “not you again… what do you want?”

“who’s this?” the girl he was talking to you looked over to you. you smiled at her and told her your name. “that’s a nice name. i’m niki.”

the two of you shook hands and she moved over for you to sit down. wilbur, begrudgingly, allowed you to sit and chat with them. for about three hours, you all sat talking. after a bit of pleading, wilbur had pulled out his guitar and was playing you a song.  that was, until tommy ran over with techno as they were being chased a boy with a smiling mask, a boy with a white headband, and one with strange glasses.

“techno! what the fuck did you do now!?” wilbur stood up and began yelling at the piglin.

instead of a response, he was met with tommy screaming, “STOP CHASING ME, YOU FUCKIN’ BITCH! THIS IS CHILD ABUSE, I AM A MINOR!!! A MINOR!!”

“god fucking damnit, tech!” wilbur jumped up and dragged you with him. now all three of you were running from the boys.

once you had arrived in the forest clearing, wilbur was immediately on technoblade and tommy’s asses about what had happened.

“what. did. you. do.” wilbur was staring at them, his hands on his hips.

techno tried to explain, before tommy cut in “wilbur, i have done nothing. i was simply being a respectful citizen-”

“those terrible cunts were being terrible bitches to us, wilbur! they were threatening the blade here, saying we couldn't fight. but i showed them!” tommy seemed incredibly proud of himself.

“techno, what did this demon child do?” wilbur was staring at nothing, looking dead inside.

“i am now participating in a duel with dream tomorrow, at 4:20 P.M.” wilbur looked extremely pale at this, like he was begging god for mercy.

the four of you walked back to phil’s house. wilbur felt too guilty to leave you guys in  town, especially when tommy had gotten into a fight with dream.

when you arrived at the house, phil immediately pulled you in, seeing that you guys were covered in cuts and bruises. when you went in, sam was nowhere to be seen.

“what the hell happened? why are there two very dirty children with you and why is techno smirking like that?”

after an explanation from the two of, phil began tending to your wounds. “wilbur, techno, go clear out the guest room for these two. we’ll talk more tonight. once you and tommy were nicely bandaged and clean, you were sent to the guest bedroom.

“you think we’ll be safe here, tommy?” you turned over to look at your friend who was in the bed across from yours. for years, you had been living on the streets, surviving off the bread the nice lady would provide you with.

“of course we will. we’re big men, you know that. besides, did you see techno over there? we’ll be just fine.”

“thanks tommy. love you, mate.” you smiled at tommy.

“night. love you too, big man."

in the morning, at the duel between technoblade and dream, it was suspenseful. even when you felt like he would lose hope, techno pulled through. even if sam had left and and was now in the dump, phil knew it would be okay. he acquired to new kids and would make sure they had a better life than the one they had before.

i hope you liked this one 🐮 anon! <3

[sombreboy]

00:00⤑yandere!vampire!myg

⤑18+ ⤑xtremity: 6 ⤑pairing: yandere!vampire!yoongi x female reader ⤑genre: yandere, pwp smut just like smut for the vampire fuckers enjoy ⤑word count: 3.2k ⤑warnings: profanity, blood, smut, oral/fingering, marking/biting, licking, unprotected sex, feeding on y/n’s blood.

He doesn’t live in a castle in the woods, nor does he sparkle in the sun. No, he’s just your weird neighbor that never seems to leave the house unless he needs something from you at the most odd of times.

Who comes over for sugar at 2am? Or for a screwdriver at 10pm?

Well, this time, it was something else that he desired as the clock struck 00:00.

You couldn’t sleep, as per usual. 

It was rare for you to actually be able to get a decent night of sleep for as long as you could remember. Not for any particular reason, it was just the way you were. ‘A night owl’, your friends would say.

It was 11:55 pm, and you were comfortably seated in your couch, mindlessly scrolling down your phone at various memes, the occasional chuckle leaving your lips. At least the internet kept you entertained.

As the clock struck 12, a sudden knock echoed from your front door.

Three, to be exact.

You sighed, because you already knew who it would be. Over the span of several months, your weird hermit of a neighbor kept coming over for various reasons. Actually, you weren’t even sure they were valid reasons-- he just kept coming over to borrow things, rarely speaking more than one word at a time every time he did. 

Did he not own things? Had he ever heard of going to the store?

Either way... You got up from your beloved couch, slowly strolling over to the door to unlock it. When you opened it, you were met by the man himself in the flesh.

Min Yoongi, the weird, unfairly good looking neighbor.

You were surprised that he wasn’t busy with dating, he could definitely have any woman he wanted. Including you, honestly.

‘‘Can I help you?’‘ You ask, shifting the weight between your feet as you noticed the way he was just standing there in silence. Normally he’d asked for a cup of sugar, or something.

‘‘You,’‘ He uttered with a raspy voice, as if he hadn’t had a sip of water in years-- he sounded so strained as he spoke, ‘‘You can help me.’‘

‘‘Yeah, that’s why I’m asking...’‘ You muttered with a slight tilt to your head, ‘‘What do you need this time?’‘

‘‘No,’‘ Yoongi croaks out, his breathing evidently heavier as he spoke, his nostrils flaring, ‘‘I need you, Y/N..’‘

He didn’t move, his calloused fingers grasping at the door frame so hard you swore you could see the material crack in his grip.

Min Yoongi was a vampire. No, he didn’t explode in the sun, nor did he sparkle. He just didn’t like it, so he rarely went outside. As soon as he’d moved into this apartment complex, everything seemed fine. He could do his work from home, producing beats for artists-- something he enjoyed.

However, there was a scent that had been bothering him, until one day he met you in the hallway.. And, dear, was that the most exquisite scent he’s ever come across. It was addictive. And with time, he’d grown obsessed with your scent. With you.

But he wasn’t sure how to get closer to you, so he opted to simply be close, at a distance. Sometimes he’d come over to get something from you, just to be able to memorize your features, inhale your scent face to face.

Other times he’d just stay in his apartment, your vague scent still noticeable. He could tell whenever you were home-- and he could definitely tell whenever you were doing sinful things to yourself, the scent even sweeter as you did so.

Within the span of these few months, he’s grown needier and needier for you, and everything about you. Your smell, your voice, your entire being. He wanted-- no, craved to taste you in every way possible. Especially with his itching fangs.

‘‘Want you.’‘ He continued, his piercing eyes glowing in a faint crimson shade, still unmoving as he stares at you with so much want that it makes you freeze on the spot, like a mouse put in trance by the movements of a snake.

‘‘W-what..? You want me?’‘

‘‘Please, Y/N, let me... Invite me in.. I’m so thirsty, so hungry.’‘

‘‘Uh, okay... uh-- come inside, Yoongi.’‘ You were still confused, stepping aside to let him in.

As if those few words were all he needed to spring into action, he stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind him, towering over you with an aura so strong that if it could be visualized, a cloud of power would ooze off of of him.

You took a step back, and another, and another. With every movement backwards, he was like a magnet, advancing forward with you until you had nowhere to go, gasping quietly when your back hit the wall with a light thud, staring up at him with doe eyes.

His own were now glowing in a strong red.

‘‘Y/N... please.’‘

What was he even begging for?

‘‘I-I can’t help you if you don’t tell me...’‘ Your words were weak, a mere whisper as you stared into his eyes, even more so in a trance by the danger and beauty swirling within his irises.

His hand moved at an inhuman speed, settling with his full palm on your cheek as he drew you into a hungry kiss. You hissed when you felt a sharp sting against your bottom lip, the metallic taste of your own blood dribbling from your lip to your tongue.

A low groan rumbled in Yoongi’s chest at the taste, his tongue quickly finding yours to relish in the kiss, his hand moving down to your throat, still keeping a light hold. The blood mixing between your tongues was.. strange, but the opposing party in the exchange seemed to be euphoric-- so somehow, it made you enjoy it too.

He broke the kiss, pulling back to once more look into your eyes with a new spark of passion-- the glow still strong. He’d finally gotten a taste of your blood, even if it was a very low amount. He knew he was already addicted, but now-- it was permanently ingrained in his taste buds.

‘‘Do you understand now?’‘ he whispered, a small smile tugging on his lips. You were gorgeous, and seeing you this up close was merely a dream of his until now. You were here, with him. He had you all to himself.

You took a long moment to observe his features up close as well, his dark locks framing his face was nothing short of gorgeous. His pale skin so clear, the contrast to his hair made him look like something out of a fairytale.

‘‘Yes..’‘ 

‘‘I want to taste you...properly.. But, not yet.’‘ 

His teeth were aching to sink into your skin, but he was a man of patience. He was aware that if he wanted you to be at your prime of sweetness, it would be during an orgasm.

So, that’s exactly what he had in mind.

He inched closer for another kiss, this one much sweeter than the previous before he dropped to his knees beneath you, his hands immediately tugging at your pants to bring them down along with your panties in one go. There was no time for a slow tease, he needed this now.

You brace yourself against the wall, cheeks flushing in red at the shameless way Yoongi stared at your exposed heat. But somehow, you didn’t want it to stop, the need in his eyes was too mesmerizing.

He leaned in close, hands snaking around to grab your ass to push your cunt towards him, wasting no more time than he had to before closing the distance between his mouth and your cunt.

‘‘Fuck...’‘ he groaned into your warm skin as he kissed your clit, causing a shiver to run down your shine, legs already weakening above him. Yoongi’s tongue snaked out and slipped between your folds, already slick from the kisses. He made sure to taste you properly, the sweet juices produced by your body was like life essence to him-- well, one of them.

‘‘Y-yoongi..’‘ You whined as he spread your lips with his tongue, easily finding your rosy clit only for him to give it a tasteful suck. Another shiver, this time running down your legs-- you knew for sure that you wouldn’t be able to stand up much longer if he kept going.

‘‘Come down, my sweet...’‘ His hands firmly grasped your hips to pull you down on the floor, forcing you to lay down on your back against the hard surface. He inhaled deeply, the scent of your blood rushing down to your core was intoxicating to every fibre of his fucking being.

Yoongi spread your legs wide, sitting on his knees between your legs as he suddenly sank two fingers into you, giving you no time to adjust nor build up as he practically fucked into you. Your mouth opened wide in a silent cry, eyes screwed shut at the sudden intrusion-- but it didn’t feel bad. His fingers were precise, long, and already found the sweet spot inside of you that made you see stars.

He licked his thumb of his free hand to bring it down to your swollen clit to rub it in circles, teasing you from both inside and outside, still keeping his fiery gaze trained on your expressions; pain that quickly morphed into pleasure. 

One of his favorite transitions.

His fingers sped up, eager for the sweetness he craved from your body, the wet squelching noises every time he jammed his fingers into your cunt harmonized perfectly with your gradually growing moans & whines. It was almost inhuman, the speed his fingers worked you at-- of course, he was no human. There was no comparison to any man doing this to you.

‘‘Tell me when you’re gonna cum, okay?’‘ He uttered with a strained voice, the thirst burning in his throat. He curled the pads of his fingers, stroking your insides so well that you felt your orgasm build up faster than you’ve ever been able to-- almost too fast.

You hurriedly nod, your legs quivering and back arching, ‘’I-I’m gonna cum, Yoongi, f-fuck... please, don’t stop!’’

Following your wishes, the rhythm of his fingers never waver as he feels your cunt clench around him, so close to your orgasm that your hands move down to grasp at his wrist, digging your nails into his skin like claws.

He barely reacts however, but relishes in feeling the very vague sting of your nails as your orgasm finally hurls over you like a wave of white pleasure, your head snapping from side to side with a loud, broken cry pushing through your lips. He quickly slid down on his chest between your legs, the hand on your clit now moving to grasp your thigh, the other still slowly stroking your insides to bring you down from your high, the spasming squeezing his fingers.

‘‘Good?’‘ he asks coyly, licking his upper teeth as he inches closer to your thigh.

‘‘Yes, so good.’‘ You breathe out, eyes heavy as your body relaxes. But not for long.

‘‘Now be good for me.. Stay still.’‘ He murmured, bracing both of his hands in a tight grip on the flesh of your thighs, keeping you in place as you suddenly jolt and cry out in pain. You sit up-- as far as you can to stare down at what was going on.

He was biting you.

He was fucking biting your thigh, all while his crimson orbs gazed right back at you, his fingers digging into your skin to keep you still.

You squirmed, his fangs felt like small razor blades.

‘‘S-stop...it hurts..’‘ You whined, and instantly, he stopped, withdrawing as he licked his lips clean from the red before playfully licking your skin clean every time a droplet escaped the wound.

A wicked part of him felt his lower abdomen stir at your weak words, and for what he had planned-- he was not going to stop. No, you invited him in, and he needs you too badly to stop.

So, he leaned in once more, sinking his sharp fangs into your skin for a quick bite before withdrawing once more, drawing another twitch from your body that he held in place. 

He repeated the action over and over, littering bite marks all over your inner thighs until there was barely any part of your soft skin that wasn’t marked by his teeth. Blood slowly trickled out from every mark, the sight like a beautiful painting itself in his eyes.

‘‘Mine.’‘ He simply stated before he began to lick your thighs clean, his flattened tongue gliding over every single inch of your blood stained flesh. It was gentle, his warm, wet muscle providing a soothing sensation to the stinging pain in every cut of your skin.

You sighed in relief, eyes fluttering shut at the warmth of his tongue, ‘’Yoongi...’’

‘‘Now you will always bear my marks. Nobody else will ever go down on you and not know that you belong to a vampire.’‘ He growled, the possessive part of him taking over. His voice was more clear this time, finally coming down to feeling his thirst being mildly quenched from consuming your blood.

But he wasn’t satiated yet.

He picked you up as he stood, carrying you over to your bedroom, gently placing you down on the soft duvet. You sat up straight, flinching from the stinging between your thighs.

‘‘Take your shirt off,’‘ he commanded whilst doing the same, getting completely undressed in front of you with no hesitation nor shame. You did as told, exposing your body fully for him, your gaze fixed on his pale, toned body. He was lean, flawless and absolutely mouth watering.

‘‘Please...’‘ You whined, and it made his lip twitch into a small gummy smile that exposed his fangs.

‘‘Yes, my sweet.’‘ He smoothly replied while crawling up on the bed, his back leaned against the headboard. Yoongi beckons for you to come to him with his hand, ‘‘Can you sit on me?’‘ he referred to the wounds on your thighs, a slight hint of concern showing in his eyes.

You nod, needily crawling over to straddle his hips, your naked thighs still bleeding and staining his skin. He groans at the warmth, the scent of you so strong that it makes his entire body shudder. Feeling his cock twitching underneath you, a small gasp pushed through your lips that made him growl lowly.

‘‘Want you to fuck me,’‘ Yoongi sinfully admits, his eyes heavy on your smaller frame. His hands reach for your hips, slowly grinding himself against your skin-- the friction keeping the love bites on your thighs from coagulating. 

It was amazing, really; how this man’s every word seemed to spring your body into action without a second thought at this point. Like he’d put a spell on you. Doing as told, you place one palm on his chest for leverage, lifting your hips as you guide his already throbbing length towards your entrance. Lower lip clamped between your teeth, you slowly sink down on it, just the tip alone stretching you out so well that a quiet gasp allowed to escape your lips.

‘‘More, more...’‘ Yoongi’s eyes were blown wide as he stared down in utter awe at the sight where the two of you were becoming one, ‘‘Please.’‘

His words were pleading, but the tone was commanding, his hands kneading the flesh of your hips between his long, calloused fingers.

Growing addicted to the small breathy sounds the vampire was making, you braced both of your hands on his chest before sinking down fully until your ass met his cool skin. Long drawn out moans were striking the room from the two of you, the pleasure nothing but sweet. 

The initial stretch was a little painful, but a part of you loved it, mixing with the stinging of your thighs-- a part of you that you didn’t know existed until now.

‘‘So good to me...’‘ Yoongi praised, opting to take control now as he helped you lift your hips back up, only to slam you back down on his cock, ‘‘Fuck, so tight..’‘

Your fingers curled on his skin, leaving small scratch marks that just as quickly healed in front of your very eyes. It was intriguing, so you tried again, and again and again to mark his skin; drawing louder grunts from him.

‘‘Y-yes, keep doing that...shit..’‘ Yoongi threw his head back against the headboard as he started to use more of his strength to move your body up and down on his length, hips bucking up to meet your body as it came down. The lewd sounds of skin slapping skin struck his ears, your whines mixed with pain and pleasure was like a drug. He craved more with every thrust, gradually fucking you harder and faster until your body is bouncing sinfully on top of him.

‘‘Y-yoongi, I’m gonna--’‘ A broken moan interrupted you when a particularly aimed thrust made your body jolt in his grasp. If your eyes could physically roll to the back of your head, you’re absolutely sure that’s exactly what they were doing at this moment as you screwed your eyes shut.

‘‘Gonna cum already?’‘ Yoongi’s voice was strained with lust, a small smile tugging at his lips as he slowed down, but never wavering his long, firm thrusts. He snaked his arms around your lower back, pulling your body down so that you’d lay on top of him, neck exposed to him as he placed open mouthed kisses all over your skin, ‘‘You feel so fucking good,’‘ he grunts between his words, every thrust stronger than the last, yet keeping a slower rhythm to build your orgasm up to the very brim before it snaps, ‘‘Gonna taste you when you cum, fuck... you’re gonna be so sweet.’‘

A chant of the word ‘yes’ repeatedly left your lips as your sweaty body jolted on top of his with every powerful thrust, cheek pressing against his shoulder as you expose your neck for him, up for anything he wanted. You were his, and you were more than okay with that.

Finally, it only took Yoongi a few more purposeful thrusts to feel your cunt clench around his cock like a vice grip, the rhythmical spasms of your insides squeezing him so tightly that he almost forgot about what he’s been pining after for an eternity.

Your loud moan broke into a silent cry as soon as you felt his arms tighten around your torso, his razor sharp teeth sinking into your neck like a heated knife through butter. His chest vibrated as he moaned, feeling his cock suddenly throb inside of you, the warmth of his cum filling you up so well.

The sweetness of your blood was so overwhelming to him that he came instantly, the flavour so exquisite as it was influenced by your intense orgasm. It was as if he was drinking your pleasure, transferring it over into his own being-- the bliss becoming his own.

He slowly rocked his hips against yours as he gulped down several mouthfuls of your blood, your squirming attempts to get out of his grip useless. His heavy breaths through his nose loud to your ears as you slowly feel your body go lax in his grip.

Yoongi deemed it enough when your body no longer resisted, and he had to fight every single instinct in his body to stop himself from sucking you dry. But eventually, he did pull away, his lips stained with your blood, the contrast to his pale skin was almost beautiful.

He gently licked your wound clean, keeping your body close in his embrace as you regain your breathing to normalcy.. However, sleep found you quicker than you expected, eyes fluttering closed as you nuzzle your cheek into his neck.

‘‘Thank you for helping me.’‘ Yoongi murmured, his previously glowing crimson eyes now a dark pool of brown.

He had found his remedy.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[obxfics]

The Dock

summary: in your search for your cousin, you check the dock where you find him with someone you least expected

pairing: john b x reader

word count: 2,600

beta’d by: @thatjohnd​

taglist: @obxlife​ @infinityspacesuniverse​ @diverrdown​ (if you want to be added let me know!)

a/n: here’s the first pogue fic for choose your own adventure! i might make a part two for the dock just because of how i ended it lmao but y’all tell me what you think. i’ll link back to the intro at the bottom and to a part two when that’s written!

Introduction

While you and your brothers were frantically searching for your cousin, John B was rearranging some things in the boat at the dock. He and the other Pogues had driven to the country club to drop JJ off at work and had just decided to stay for a bit. Kie and Pope were off doing some other things--Kie was probably walking along the beach while Pope was using the club’s high speed internet. John B was content to mess around with the boat and maybe go fishing for a bit before he needed to return to drive everyone home. He was bent down to check on some new scuff mark when he heard humming a little bit farther down the dock. Suddenly the humming stopped with a gasp, and then little feet were pounding on the wood planks towards his boat.

“Mister!” a small voice called from somewhere above him. “Um, excuse me, mister?”

John B stopped what he was doing and looked up to see a cute kid standing at the edge of the dock. He had curly brown hair and dimples that were on full display as he grinned at the older boy. John B blinked and looked around for anyone to whom this kid belonged.

“Uh, hey, little man,” John B greeted with a hesitant smile. He knelt down to be on eye-level with the boy. “What can I do for you?”

He didn’t think it was possible, but the little boy smiled even wider, and if he was being honest, John B could feel his heart melt a little.

“Is this your boat?” the boy asked.

“Yeah, she’s mine.”

The boy’s eyes lit up, and a giggle bubbled up from his stomach. “It looks just like my Grandpa’s boat!”

This surprised John B. The boy looked the part of a baby Kook: nice clothes, clean face, and obviously came from the country club up the hill. Yet here he was, talking to John B with the biggest, sweetest grin on his face, and he was saying that his Grandpa’s boat was like the HMS Pogue.

“Your Grandpa’s boat is like this?”

“Just like it! He takes me fishing on it when I visit him! When he doesn’t have work.” The boy looked down and frowned. “He works a lot. He doesn’t have a lot of time to take me fishing.”

“What’s your name, little man?”

“I’m J-”

“JAIME!”

Both boys looked up the hill in surprise when they heard your frantic shout. Jaime smiled and waved when he saw you running down the dock toward John B’s rickety boat. The breath caught in your throat when you saw exactly who your baby cousin was talking to. Shit. John B, on the other hand, was just as surprised to see you. The kid had been talking about his Grandpa as if he was a Pogue, and yet he seemed to belong to you. It just didn’t make sense.

“y/n!” Jaime called happily, grabbing your hand and pointing to John B’s boat. “Doesn’t it look like Grandpa’s? The one we go fishing on?”

“Yeah, it does,” you agreed, your eyes locked on John B’s. “Was he bothering you?”

“He belong to you?” John B asked.

“My baby cousin. This is Jaime.”

John B waved to Jaime and held out his fist for a fist bump. “Nice to meet you, Jaime. My name’s John B.”

You coughed and looked over at the boat so you wouldn’t have to keep looking at John B. As much as you talked to Kie--and as much as you thought the guy was attractive--you couldn’t remember the last time you had actually talked to him. You felt as if you had completely forgotten how to socialize.

“So what are you guys up to?” he asked as he straightened up.

“Oh, just looking after Jaime. We were gonna go make fun of the golfers, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s out today.” You looked over your shoulder to see your brothers loitering at the top of the hill. “They probably want to go surfing, so Jaime and I will have to find something else to do.”

“I, uh... I could take y’all fishing,” he offered. His eyes widened and cheeks reddened when you looked back at him, as if he couldn’t actually believe he had said that. “I mean, if you want to. If that’s okay with you.”

You blinked a few times, barely registering that Jaime was tugging on your hand and begging you to take John B up on his offer. You were almost completely sure Kie’s friends didn’t like you, John B included, so why the hell was he initiating spending time with you? Finally Jaime yanked your hand hard enough to catch your attention.

“Can we please go fishing with your friend?” Jaime whined, looking up at you with his puppy dog eyes. “Pleeeeaaase?”

“He’s not my--” you cut yourself off with a sigh and finally nodded. “Fine. Let me just tell Christian and Diego what’s going on.”

Jaime cheered and grinned up at John B as you stalked back down the dock. John B smiled and rested his hands on his hips.

“You wanna get in the boat, little man?”

Your baby cousin eagerly put his foot on the edge of the boat but let out a yelp when the boat drifted away from him. Jaime’s arms flailed about as he began to lose his balance. John B was quick to grab Jaime under his armpits and lift him up, letting out a pretend groan as he swung him onto the boat.

“I got you, little man, you’re all good. A little heavy, though,” John B teased.

“Hmph.” A grin threatend to pull at John B’s lips when the little boy stuck up his nose and let out a scoff. He sounded a lot like you when he did that. Maybe you’re just weaker than you look. y/n can carry me just fine.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Your cousin’s pretty strong.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes at the older boy when John B looked over his shoulder at you and let out a quiet sigh. Why were big kids so weird? You returned with a best slung over your shoulder, no doubt coming from one of the fancy yachts docked nearby.

“Didn’t think Kooks liked to steal form each other,” John B as you approached his boat again.

“It’s called borrowing,” you corrected with a huff, reminding him of Jaime just a few moments before. “And there’s no way I’m letting my baby cousin on your boat without some basic safety.”

“What, you don’t trust me?” he asked as he lifted a hand to you.

You rolled your eyes but accepted the hand he offered to help you into the boat. You felt your cheeks heat up a bit at the feeling of his calloused hand wrapped around yours.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. He wears a vest whenever we go on any boat, even our grandfather’s. Nothing to do with you or your boat. I just gotta look after my baby.”

He watched as you knelt down and helped Jaime put his hands through the safety vest. You were so soft when you looked at your cousin, smiling when you clicked the buckles and tightened the straps so it was all secure. It was weird seeing you like this. Usually whenever John B saw you, you didn’t really spare him a second’s glance. You would wave and offer Kie a small smile, but then you were gone just as quick as you appeared. He was pretty sure you didn’t even like the Pogues. You were something of an enigma to him, but seeing you like this...

“Hey, cap’n,” you said, looking up at him with a teasing smirk, “we gonna go fishing or what?”

John B laughed and shook his head, clearing it of any weird thoughts he was having about you. You were Kie’s friend, and the only reason he had offered to take y’all fishing was because Kie was always talking about how she wished the Pogues would make you feel more comfortable so you would spend more time with her. No other reason whatsoever, especially not because he was feeling a sort of like warmth in his chest around you. He cleared his throat and sat down at the wheel. You held Jaime’s hand and led him to the front of the boat so you could sit and keep a hold on him. Wouldn’t do anyone any good if he took a tumble and landed in the water. Well, at least there weren’t any gators around. That would be new for him.

Jaime giggled in excitement when John B eased the boat away from the dock and into the marsh. You smiled and placed a hand on his head, running your fingers through his curls to calm him down. The boy was practically vibrating with anticipation. You glanced back to see John B focusing on the water ahead. Shit, he really was pretty with his windswept hair and sun kissed skin. You let out a breath through your nose and turned back to the front. It wasn’t fair that someone who disliked you that much could also have such an effect on you. Finally the boat drifted to a stop, and Jaime all but leapt from your arms to scurry over to the captain’s seat where John B was already smiling at him. God, and he was good with kids too?

“Alright, little man, you ready to fish?”

“Yes, sir!” Jaime squealed, giving the older boy a salute.

You sat back and observed silently as John B crouched and instructed Jaime on how to properly bait a hook. Your baby cousin listened, giving the handsome Pogue his undivided attention, and you felt some of the tension in your body melt away. Maybe John B didn’t like you, but he sure seemed to be fond of Jaime. He was good with him. Treated him well. You could see someone like John B being a perfect older brother, or maybe even a fa--

“y/n!”

A quiet gasp escaped you as Jaime’s voice ripped you from your thoughts. Where the hell were you going with that train of thought? Nowhere that was safe in your body wracked with teenage hormones. You chanced a look at John B to see if he could tell that you had just been thinking about jumping his bones, but his eyes were focused solely on Jaime.

“What’s up, bud?”

“I baited a hook!” He held up his fishing rod with a proud smile. “And your friend told me how to cast it!”

“Want me to help you out, little man?” John B asked.

And a fucking cute nickname too? Who did this guy think he was? Making you feel shit.

“No, I’ve got it, thank you!”

You frowned and began to stand up. “Hey, bud, maybe we should let John B help you the first time.”

“I remember from when Grandpa taught me! I’m a big kid, I can do it!”

John B laughed and held up his hands. “Little man seems awfully sure of himself. I say we let him do his thing.”

Your heart did a little flip when John B came over and sat next to you, not even sparing you a glance as he focused on baiting his own hook. Jaime seemed to be doing perfectly fine at the end of the boat, but you couldn’t relax with a cute boy with close to you. What were you supposed to say?

“I, uh,” you said, looking at your hands, “thanks. For, you know, taking us out here.”

“Was gonna do some fishing anyways while waiting for JJ’s shift to finish,” he shrugged. “‘sides, the little man seemed eager to do something. Wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight if I broke his heart.”

“He likes you.”

“Definitely more than you do.”

The both of you seemed shocked he had said that when your eyes met. His hazel eyes were wide, and they seemed to be full of regret when they looked into yours. What did he even mean by that?

“I--” You blinked a few times as you tried to find the right words to say. “I don’t not like you,” you said. “I mean, I know you guys don’t like me, so I just kinda... stay out of your way.”

“What?”

“Like, I can tell. You and the other boys aren’t exactly my biggest fans, and I know Kie much prefers your company over mine, so I stay out of your hair. I don’t want to make her think she has to choose or anything.”

John B stared at you, seeming to look straight into your soul with those eyes of his. The green in them seemed particularly bright today, and you found yourself unable to look away. Were you under some kinda spell or something? Finally he was the one to tear his gaze from yours as he shook his head and ran a hand through his thick hair.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he ground out.

“I didn’t mean to call you out of anything! Like, I get it, you guys have been friends longer, and like Kie really only needs me as a friend at school. I don’t take it personally.”

“You know, for how smart Kie makes you out to seem, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Wh--excuse me?” Okay now you were offended. You knew he didn’t like you, but he’d never outwardly insulted you like this before. “What did you just call me?”

“Do you really, honestly think we don’t like you?”

“Bitch, I know you do. You especially are always giving me this, like, stank eye whenever I pass by.”

“It’s not a stank eye!” he argued, his voice cracking in what you almost thought was embarrassment. “Oh, god, do you really think it’s a stank eye?”

“Literally what else could it be?”

“I am going to kill JJ.” He ran a hand down his face and chanced a quick peek at you from the corner of his eye. “It isn’t a stank eye, y/n. I was attempting something JJ calls a smolder or whatever.”

You blinked. “...A what?”

“He said that’s how he catches the attention of the tourist girls at the Boneyard!”

“You took advice from JJ Maybank?”

“Well he clearly had more game than I did!”

A shriek of laughter tore itself from your throat, and all John B could do was watch in horror as you doubled over cackling. Were those actual tears he saw? This could not be happening right now. You weren’t supposed to laugh at him! You were in the middle of another bout of wheezing laughs when suddenly you cut yourself off with a gasp.

“Wait a second. Why would you be trying to give me a smolder?”

Aw, hell. If John B wasn’t red before, he was positively burning at this point. He coughed and looked over at Jaime, hoping the boy would be struggling so he would have an excuse to get out of this painful conversation. No luck. It was like the kid was born to fish. He fiddled with the bandana around his neck and sighed.

“I... I mean... I don’t why you thought I didn’t like you,” he grumbled. “I was trying to give you the smolder because you never stuck around long enough for me to talk to you, so how else was I supposed to show you I was interested?”

“Interested? In me?”

He rolled his head to the side to give you a look that clearly showed how unimpressed he was with you in that moment.

“Like, for real, how can you be this dense?”

“Listen, I have like one friend! I suck at social interaction!”

“Well get better! How could you seriously not tell I liked you?”

“Your smolder didn’t fuck work, obviously!”

He let out a small huff and smiled at you shyly. The breath caught in your throat as his hand edged ever so slowly closer to yours. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks again when his pinky brushed against the side of your hand briefly before wrapping around your own little finger.

“Well now you know, dumbass. What are you gonna do about it?”

Continue Reading                      Return to the Start

[tropicalsuki]

Do You Copy? - Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Y/n, Steve’s girlfriend of over a year, is gone all of summer for a camp counselor job in the middle of nowhere, meaning the only way to stay in contact is through letters. Dustin and the party are sick of seeing Steve mope around, so they decide to set up a surprise date between Y/n and Steve. 

warnings: FLUFF, some angst, language, sexual references/making out, slight season 3 spoilers if you squint

word count: 2,566

A/N: this was supposed to go up Monday but my internet went down Sunday night and we just got it back today, so sorry for the delay! I hope you all love it and enjoy! Also, I’m up for writing a part two if enough people want it.

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

Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Will were all at Steve’s house, arguing over what movie to watch. It was their monthly movie night, and everyone was there. Well, almost everyone.

“Does anyone know when the hell Mike and El are gonna be here?” Dustin asked, annoyed with their constant flaking. 

“How are we supposed to know? They show up whenever they’re done kissing. It’s bullshit,” Lucas answered.

“Woah, language!” Steve acted offended as he walked into the room with two large bowls of popcorn. Max quickly grabbed one and sank into the couch, shoveling the snack into her mouth. “You better share!” Lucas yanked the bowl from her and the two began bickering like they usually did.

Everyone stopped talking when the doorbell rang.

 “Is it them?” Will asked as Steve went and opened the door. He came back in the room a moment later with a letter in hand. “No, not them. Just the mailman,” Steve said as he opened the letter with a slight smile. 

“Is that another letter?” Lucas asked. Max sat up, interested, “from who? Y/n?”

Steve didn’t answer their questions as he read the letter, a stupid grin on his face. 

“Ooh, let me read it!” Dustin went to grab it but Steve quickly yanked his arm away, “no, absolutely not! This is a private letter for my eyes only.”

“Aw come on! Let me see!” Dustin complained. As Steve and Dustin were arguing, Max came up behind Steve and grabbed the letter, running to the other side of the room to read it. Steve ran after her, but Lucas, Will, and Dustin tackled him as Max began reading aloud.

“’It’s only been a month since I left, but it feels like forever. I’m counting down the days until I come back to Hawkins. I miss the sound of your voice and the smell of your cologne and the way you kiss me and how you-’ ohmygod, you two are disgusting!” Max stopped reading, her face going red. 

“What? What does it say?” Lucas demanded.

“Read it for yourself! I’m not saying that out loud,” Max shook her head. 

“Will you all stop?! That’s a private letter!” Steve yelled.

Lucas and Will ran over to Max, peering over her shoulder to read the rest of the note. Dustin didn’t budge from his spot on top of Steve. As the two boys scanned the page, they went wide eyed. “That is... graphic,” Lucas finally said, trying not to laugh. 

“You two must really love each other,” Will spoke, making Steve sigh. “We do. And that’s why the letter is so important. So can you please give it back?” he asked, defeated. Dustin got off of him and Max handed over the letter. 

“Why don’t you just call her? I don’t see the problem,” Lucas said. 

“Because they don’t have phones in the middle of the woods, dipshit,” Max snipped. 

“Jesus, I forgot. No need to be so rude,” Lucas huffed as Steve got up, the doorbell ringing once more. Will ran towards the front entrance. 

“Mike and El are here!” Will called, walking back into the room a moment later with the the two teens in tow. 

“About time” “Great! We can finally start the movie now!” Max and Dustin said at once. Lucas went over to the tv, shoving the VHS into the slot. 

“What movie?” El asked, picking up the bowl of popcorn that Max left on the table. 

“Monty Python and the Holy Grail; only one of the best movies of all time,” Will stated excitedly. “Ooh, good choice,” Mike flopped down on the couch, pulling El down beside him. The others got comfy and happily chatted away as the movie began. Max shushed loudly when the opening credits were over and everyone quieted down. 

Throughout the movie, as everyone was laughing and making comments, Steve stayed quiet. Dustin took notice and waited for his chance to talk to the others. When Steve left to go to the bathroom, Dustin ran over to the tv and paused the movie.

“Dude! Why’d you stop it? This is the best part!” Mike complained. Lucas and Max chimed in with agreement.

“The movie can wait. But right now we need a plan to help Steve. He looks miserable,” Dustin answered. 

“Maybe he does not like Monty Python,” El suggested. Will sighed, “No, Dustin’s right. He’s been acting like this all summer.” 

“Why? Because of Y/n? She’s coming back in, like, three weeks,” Mike shrugged.

Max rolled her eyes, “please, Michael, if El was gone for half that long, you’d be complaining everyday.”

Mike didn’t respond, knowing she was right. 

Dustin nodded decidedly, “alright then. What’s the plan?”

-

Steve told the group he was going to the bathroom, quickly leaving and heading up to his room. He wanted to have a fun evening, he really did, but the letter stuck in his head and he couldn’t think of anything else. 

Walking over to his desk, Steve opened a drawer and set the new letter over a pile of identical ones. You and Steve sent letters back and forth at least once a week, but it still wasn’t enough. All he asked for was to hear your voice, but not even that wasn’t possible. Two months away as a camp counselor in the middle of fucking nowhere. Steve thought he would be fine without you for that long. 

He was wrong. 

Steve snapped out of his thoughts and closed the drawer, taking a deep breath before heading back downstairs. As he reentered the living room, the kids immediately stopped talking, all turning to look at him. 

“What did I miss? Did something happen?” Steve asked, looking between the six of them. 

“Nope. Nothing at all,” Lucas said casually.

“We were just waiting for you to come back. So we can keep watching,” Max added. Dustin quickly got up and started the movie again. 

Steve was too mentally exhausted to care what they were talking about, so he sat back down without question. 

-

A week passed before you got another letter in the mail. But it wasn’t from Steve. This time, it was from Dustin Henderson, claiming that Steve was in the hospital and you needed to come home immediately. 

As soon as you read the letter, you ran to your boss with tears in your eyes, begging to be sent home early. Your boss knew there was no hope in arguing, so he complied, and you sent off a letter to Dustin saying you were on your way back to Hawkins as soon as possible.

“Y/n’s coming back!” Dustin announced, waving the letter in his hand as he walked into Mike’s basement. 

“I still don’t think it was a good idea to lie to her about Steve,” Max replied. 

“She’s probably gonna have a heart attack before she gets here,” Lucas agreed. 

“Listen, I know it was messed up, but we literally haven’t seen Steve leave his house in over a week. It was necessary,” Dustin defended himself, but the others didn’t seem convinced. Dustin continued, “Y/n will be at the airport tomorrow at noon. We need to meet her there before she goes looking for Steve.”

“That’s nice and all, but how are we going to get there? None of us can drive,” Max pointed out. The others looked at each other knowingly, already having two people in mind.

-

“You told her Steve was in the hospital?!” Nancy exclaimed, looking at the six kids in front of her like they were insane before turning to her boyfriend, “Jonathan, did you know about this?”

Jonathan shook his head, “I did not. Because if I did, I would of told them it was a stupid and cruel idea.”

“That’s what I said!” Will huffed.

“Look, I fucked up. I get it. But it’s already done, so can we move forward please?” Dustin said, frustrated. 

“Yeah, whatever. It’s 11:30 so we need to go,” Nancy and Jonathan got up, leading the younger teens outside and to the car. Nancy got in the drivers seat and took them all to the airport.

When the group finally saw you coming off the flight, you were a mess. Your eyes were red from crying and your clothes and hair were all over the place. You spotted the eight of them and ran over, dropping your bags to pull Nancy into a hug, “oh god, it’s so good to see you.”

Nancy smiled, hugging you back, “I know, I missed you. We all did.”

You pulled away, looking at everyone carefully. “Is... is he okay?” you asked quietly, scared of what the answer may be. 

They all glanced at one another, silently arguing over who was going to tell you that Steve was perfectly fine. You took their silence as the exact opposite, and suddenly began crying. Jonathan pulled you into a comforting hug as Mike elbowed Dustin hard, forcing him to speak.

“No! No, don’t cry. Steve’s ok. He’s perfectly fine, and not in the hospital. He never was... I, uh, lied. to get you to come home early,” Dustin explained quickly. 

You moved away from Jonathan, your sadness and worry turning to confusion then anger, “what?”

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that,” Dustin gave you the sweetest smile he could manage. 

“You lied about my boyfriend being in the hospital?! I left my job and paid for a last minute plane ticket - and for what? What was this all for for?!” you said angrily, trying your best to keep your voice from rising. 

“Steve has been miserable all summer. But it’s gotten worse the past few weeks. We wanted him to feel better, and the only way to do that was to bring you home,” Will stepped in to explain. You sighed, having a hard time to get mad at Will; he always meant well no matter how messed up the idea. 

“Where is he? Does he know I’m here?” you questioned, wanting to see him as soon as possible. 

“No! No, he doesn’t. He can’t. We have this whole plan and we’re gonna surprise him so you can’t see him until tonight,” Lucas said quickly. 

You didn’t want to wait that long, but you doubted the kids would let you anywhere near Steve before their plan was complete. So you looked to Nancy instead, “this has all been very emotionally draining. And I need a drink.”

Nancy smiled knowingly, “I got you covered. Let’s go back to my house.” 

You nodded heavily and turned back to the kids, “you can tell me your ridiculous plan on the way there... and this doesn’t mean I’m not still beyond pissed at you all.”

The six of them nodded quickly, not wanting to push you. You followed Nancy outside, Jonathan grabbing your bags for you and hurrying after the group.

-

Dustin, El, and Mike banged on Steve’s door. He didn’t answer the first time, so they persisted. Finally the door was yanked open and Steve answered with groan, “what?!”

“We have a surprise for you,” Dustin grinned. 

“Does it involve going out?” Steve asked. Dustin nodded. “Then I’m not interested,” Steve decided. 

“Just listen to us! It’s about Y/n,” Mike said quickly.

Dustin began explaining before Steve could say anything, “we’ve been trying to find away to get into contact with Y/n, and we finally figured it out. You know my ingenious invention, Cerebral? Well, we sent a letter to Y/n and there’s a way you’ll be able to talk to each other!” 

Steve watched him, a blank expression on his face, “nice idea, but that’s not possible. If phones don’t work there, how is your stupid little radio going to?”

“It’s different. Landlines and radios work on different frequencies, and interact in different ways. There’s no phones at Y/n’s camp, but there’s radios. So it’ll work. We’ve tested it,” Dustin insisted, trying his best to be convincing. 

“It’s true,” El nodded. Mike smiled at Steve in support. 

Steve was desperate, and willing to try anything, “fine. When?”

“In an hour. So go take a shower - you smell awful,” Mike said. 

-

An hour later, Steve was hiking up to the highest point in Hawkins, while you hid a bit further down on the other side of the hill with Lucas and Max. Dustin, Mike, El, and Will lead Steve to where Cerebral was set up, talking to him about how you were waiting on the other end. 

“This better work or I’m going to beat you with your own equipment,” Steve said to Dustin, no hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

“It’ll work. I promise,” Dustin assured, sitting down by the main radio. Dustin pretended to work on getting a proper connection, but it seemed to be failing, and Steve was growing impatient. 

“I swear to god, Henderson, you took me all the way up here and got my hopes up and the damn radio wont even work,” he said angrily. 

Dustin didn’t reply, turning a few more knobs as you sneaked up the hill and stood behind Steve.

“Steve?”

When he heard your voice, Steve quickly moved closer to the radio, surprised that it was actually working and how clear your voice sounded, “Y/n? Y/n, is that you?”

“Steve,” you said again, a bit louder, and he froze, realizing the voice wasn’t coming from the radio. Turning around, his eyes landed on you and a grin spread across his face. 

“Hi,” you grinned back and Steve ran over, scooping you up in a tight hug and spinning you around, both of you laughing from happiness. 

He put you down and pulled you into a deep kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The kids watched on, proud of their work. 

“You came home,” Steve stated, keeping you close. 

“The kids told me you were in the hospital. I came home as soon as I could. They were lying, obviously,” you explained. Steve was too happy to have you back to be mad about that right now, so instead he just pulled you closer to him.

“I missed you so much,” you breathed, running your hands down his chest and kissing him. Steve kissed you back with an almost desperation, and the six kids realized things were about to get heated. 

“Should, we uh...,” Lucas trailed, pointing down to the bottom of the hill. “Yep. Mmhm,” the others nodded and the group quickly ran off, leaving you and Steve on your own. 

You pulled Steve down so the two of you were laying on the grass, never breaking the kiss in the process. He moved you on top of him, running his hands through your hair. You pulled away slightly to catch your breath, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. It hurts how much I love you,” Steve answered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Did you get my last letter?” you asked as you ran a hand across his cheek. 

“I sure did,” Steve smiled slightly.

“I meant every word. And those things I promised I’d do to you when I got back...,” you started playfully, but was cut off when Steve rolled you over so he was hovering over you.

“I know you’d never break a promise. So just kiss me, idiot,” Steve said teasingly. You grinned and pulled him down to meet your lips once more. 

-

End.

[ansgar-martinsson]

Fair Winds and a Following Sky - Part 8

Nowhere, Oklahoma. Two Years Earlier. One Week Later

“Holy f-f-f-f-f... Christ!” He rolled over and flopped onto the mattress with a long, wheezing groan. The bed protested under the onslaught, having been subjected over the past half hour to the abuses of his sybaritic pounds and thrusts. She, too, moaned languidly and curled onto her side to face him, her breath coming sharp, shallow, and punctuated. She shivered as the summer-night-cooled air whorled in from the window to caress her sweat-shimmering skin. 

“Jesus!” He threw his arm languidly over his head, chest pumping like a bellows, eyes wide and glassy -- staring at yet not seeing the ceiling overhead. 

“Hallelujah, praise Him,” she sang, her tone a combination of sardonic humor and a true, reverent prayer.  She reached for him and drew her finger down the length of his nose, turned her hand and brushed her fingers over the sharp slope of his cheek. “Praise Him in glory indeed.”

He chuckled and shifted his body to mirror hers, his arm tucked up under his head, his legs curled so he touched her, knee to knee, foot to foot. “So,” he smirked. “I surmise you met the Almighty just then. Knew I could make the introduction for you.”

“Asshole,” she chortled. 

“Well,” he mock pouted, “you must admit, that was one heavenly fuck. Rapturous, even.”

“You think a mite high of yourself, don’t you,” she smiled. “In bed, at least. Y’all don’t brag about yourself otherwise.”

His face shadowed, but the grin did not altogether leave his face. “There’s really nothing to brag about. Truly, I’m nothing special.”

“Horse shit. You’re pulling my leg now,” she argued. “There’s gotta be something about you.” 

“Are you telling me, or asking me?” He stretched his legs out and scooted himself closer to her, resting his open hand on the expanse of her thigh. He squeezed her there, teasingly. 

“Telling, I suppose,” she shrugged, huffed a small breath and let the rest of it out on a long sigh. Her eyes flicked up to his and she reached down to circle her fingers atop his hand. “Speaking of heaven,” she whispered. “I... I have a confession to make.”

He sprang up, nearly child-like in his movements, curled his legs under him and rest his hands in his lap. “Ooh, a confession!” he perked. “Have you done something naughty, darling? Are you going to tell me some cardinal sin you’ve committed... at least, one that I don’t already know about? You’ve been guilty of a myriad of sins in my presence, you know... ones I devoutly wish you’d indulge in over and over and over and....”

“Alan,” she sat up and rest her hand on his chest, quieting him. 

He crossed himself mockingly. “Forgive me father, for I have sinned, it’s been fuck all since my last confession....”

“Alan! Stop!”

“What?” he cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I see. This is serious, Yes. Okay. Tell me, tell me what you’ve done.”

“Promise me you won’t get mad at me.”

He narrowed his eyes and chewed on his bottom lip, but he nodded nonetheless. “I promise that I will try... but my anger will depend, I think, on what you tell me you’ve done.”

“Fair enough,” she nodded. “I can accept that.” She brushed her fingers down his arms and captured his hands in hers. Taking a deep breath, she looked him squarely in the eyes and confessed. “I Googled you.”

“You... Googled me,” he cocked his head quizzically. “Tell me, what exactly did you find?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. I... I found nothing.”

“Nothing,” he mused, eyebrows raised. “Hm.”

“Nothing. Nada. Bupkiss. As you say, fuck all.”

“I’m not surprised.” He gave her a small smile, curled his finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. “I don’t use social media, and I really don’t have any use for the internet. Haven’t for a while now.”

“I mean,” she said, “there was nothing. Like you don’t exist or something.”

He widened his eyes comically, looked down his body and slapped at his chest, his abdomen, legs, arms, face. “I’m pretty sure I do exist,” he said with false confusion, “otherwise I’d love to know who brought you to ecstasy three times in a row this evening.”

“Alan, I’m serious!” she wheedled. 

“I am too,” he retorted. “What does it matter that you couldn’t find me on Google?”

“It matters because I don’t know who you are, really. I know nothing about you.”

“I beg to differ. You’ve quite a bit of carnal knowledge, darling. Isn’t that enough?”

“Maybe,” she mused. “Listen, Alan....”

“That’s my name,” he said flippantly. 

Her aspect stiffened as did her body. She eyed him harshly, imploringly. “But is it, though? Your name? Is Alan Easterberg your real name?”

He swallowed hard once before arranging his features into a broad, sardonic grin. “Well, when you say my name, I hear it. When I write my name you see it. I can taste it on my tongue, feel it when I say it. So all evidence points to my name being quite real. It’s not... fictional or ethereal. If you call me it, I respond.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “You know what I mean. Is... is Alan Easterberg the name you were given when you were born?”

He held back a sneer. “Do you need to know? I mean, really. Must you?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Why?” he clipped. He inhaled sharply through his nose and ground his teeth within his clenched jaw.

“Because...I just do. Supposing I need to know who I’m sleeping with, who I’m... fuckin’.”

He stood, stepped away from the bed, and shoved his fingers through his hair. He remained there, his bare back to her, his arms raised, hands clasped at the back of his head, his gaze directed toward the white stuccoed ceiling. 

“Alan,” she implored, shifting to her knees on the end of the bed. “Please, talk to me.”

He dropped his arms, hands slapping against his thighs, and he turned. He shook his head, teeth worrying over his lips, and he shrugged, resigned. “No,” he said at last. “It is not my birth name. But,” he raised a finger, “it’s my name now, and my name nonetheless. It’s... it’s who I am and who I want to be, right here, right now.”

“Will you... will you tell me? Your name?”

“Well, it’s Alan Easterberg, isn’t it?” he said plainly, opening his palms to her.

“Come on,” she chided. “I get it. I get it, I asked the wrong question. But enough with the cutesy smart-ass bullshit. Please.” 

He chuckled “You’re learning, darling. Well done. Logic comes easy for you. I can teach you so much more, though.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Hm.” He nodded. “Okay, the answer is no. No, I.... I won’t tell you.” Fear clouded her eyes; and he saw it, clear as day. “Anna. It’s not what you think. I’m... I’m not a criminal on the lam or anything like that, I mean,” he huffed, “I can tell you. I could if I wanted to, but I simply don’t want to.”

“Why?”

He sighed, collected his pants and jeans from the floor and slid into them, moving to perch himself on the edge of the corner armchair, elbows resting on his knees. “I am... content,” he said. “For once in quite some time, actually, I feel... good. I’m, dare I say it? Happy.”

“I don’t understand.” She pulled the quilt around her shoulders and sat cross-legged on the bed. “What does you bein’ happy have to do with your name?”

“Everything,” he replied. “Where I am, who... I am, right now, is... I’m in a good place, Anna. I don’t want to go back to who I was. Not yet.” He peered up at her, blinking, imploring her to comprehend. “I’ve taken this name, you see, Alan, and being that... being Alan... being me, I’m not... him.”

“Him?”

“The man I was,” he said. “The man who lost everything, who was angry... always angry... who hated everyone, loathed himself especially, who knew nothing but depression and rage and... and fear.” He stood and paced to the window, leaning against the jamb, arms crossed protectively over his chest. “If you’d met him, you’d never have taken him in. You’d have... you’d have feared him -- despised him.”

“Hogwash. I don’t believe that for a second.” She moved to stand beside him, but he quickly shifted away, leaning heavily against the dresser, his back to her. “You’re... you’re just you,” she said. “Couldn’t hate you if I tried.”

“Exactly. I’m different. I’m not that man anymore, Anna,” he repeated. “The man I was, he... he was cruel, ruthless, selfish, a complete bastard... more interested in his Takahashi suits and Teslas and his stock portfolio than other people.” 

“Teslas...” she mused. “You have money?”

“Had,” he clipped. “Didn’t want it anymore. It was... I was... when... ah, hell!” His voice rose in pitch and volume, his body hunching, nearly collapsing in on itself, “When this man... this... rich arsehole... when he finally figured out how to care about someone else, when he finally was able to open his fucking black heart and give himself to another to... to... love another,” the words dripped like venom from his curled, trembling lips, “he... he... she....Fuck it!”

He wrenched open the bedroom door, intending to run pell mell down the steps, through the living room and out the front door; but something stopped him. Her hand, her delicate, gentle hand on his arm stopped him. Implored him to stay. “Wait, Alan! Alan, please. I’m sorry.”

“Do you understand?” He whirled on her, his hands balled in fists at his sides. “If I tell you that name... If I tell you, then I have to admit that the name is mine, that it belongs to me... that I am that man.” He raised a finger, trembling as he pointed it at his face, curled his hand into a fist, and pounded himself once, twice, three times squarely in the chest. “That miserable, hollow shell of a man who I don’t ever want to be again. Not now... not here... not... not with you. I can’t... with you.”

She nodded, and carefully, carefully brushed her fingers down the length of his arm, to once again take his hand. “You can have any name you want with me,” she soothed. “I reckon I’ve some idea of the real you. The man you are in here.” She pressed her hand against his heaving chest, sensing the pulse and maelstrom of his emotion ebb and flow as his breaths slowed under her touch. She stepped closer to him, lining her body up with his, and she peered up into his anguished, crumpled face. “No matter who you were, I know you now. And I want you as you are.”

“That’s... that’s what I’m trying to say, Anna,” he whispered. “I just want to live in the here and now -- not in the past, and without being worried about the future. I don’t give a fuck what my name is. Call me what you want, I don’t care. Give me a name. I just... I just want to heal. I just want to live. I just want to be.”

She rose up on her toes, let the quilt fall from her shoulders, and carefully, cautiously brought her lips to his. When he didn’t recoil, when his hands went to her naked hips, when he bowed his head to her, she kissed him - warm, gentle, easy. And, parting from him for just a moment, she whispered into his mouth. “Hashke’ Náshdóítsoh.”

He pulled back, blinking. “What... what did you say?” he clipped, his words reedy and staccato. “Is that Navajo?”

She smiled. “Mmm hmm.”

“What does it mean?” he huffed, still agitated. 

Her gaze shifted between his eyes, to one then to the other, as she caressed his head. She worked her palms over his hair, the back of his neck, the planes of his face, like a shaman, healing, comforting. “It’s you,” she declaimed. 

“Me? he swallowed. “Did you just... is that a... a name?”

She nodded, her hands continuing their course over his shoulders, down his chest, fingers paying particular attention to the lion’s head tattoo on his left breast. 

“My name?” 

Again, she nodded, bent forward and traced the course of her fingers with her lips, her mouth and tongue openly exploring the newly arisen gooseflesh of his chest, feeling his passion metamorphose from fury and melancholy to once again find contentedness, bliss, and desire. “Yours.”

“Translate it,” he demanded, “what does it mean?”

“No matter who you are, what you say your name is, who you think you were or are or will be, your spirit is the same,” she intoned, her words reverent, almost worshipful. “You’re kind of lucky. You know your spirit. You’ve met your spirit, and you’ve built yourself around your spirit.”

“My... spirit?”

“Right here,” she traced the tattoo. “The lion.”

“So the name....”  he opened his mouth to repeat the words in the Dine’ language, but he could not form them. “Say it again.”

“Hashke’ Náshdóítsoh.”

“Hashke’ Náshdóítsoh,’ he repeated, smiling in satisfaction. “That means... lion?”

She shrugged. “Close. It means Mountain Lion Warrior. There really ain’t any Dine’ word for this kind of lion.” She bent again and kissed his inked skin. “But that’s how I see you, and that’s how I know you.”

“Some lion I am,” he chuckled mirthlessly. “Rather pathetic one if you ask me.”

She smiled. “Even a lion that licks its wounds is still a lion.” She lifted his hands and guided them to rest on her torso, just beneath her breasts; her own hands working slowly, delving into the space between his open flies and his quivering skin. “We’ll just have to help him find his roar.”

[clownbeep]

This is gonna be kinda brutal. But I want to put it into writing

Big vent/whats been going on

Hah... I guess this is like my life story or some shit...

Trigger warning ahead.. Depression and a bit of gore/suicide talk so if you are sensitive to that please, for your own sake and mental state you might not want to continue.

For those who dont want to hear a pretty dark vent, I understand.

And those who are just scrolling by feel free to scroll past. I just personally want to get this out.

If you have dealt with emotional neglect/abuse and need to know it isnt in your head this might be the post.

By writing this it feels like hopefully someone else will read this and realise certain things are NOT healthy.

If you are questioning if you are being emotionally neglected/abused (im speaking in a parental sense but even romantically or sexually) im not someone to give you answers, but the fact you are questioning it raises some red flags. In a healthy relationship you dont wonder those things.

Sorry for the long prelude but heres what I wanted to say

.

.

.

.

.

.

Ever since I was young, ive had bad ADHD, manic bipolar/depression, and sensory issues.

I was diagnosed around 13 I believe. My family (I didnt realise it then) always showed pity. Like I was some wild animal that couldnt be tamed and there was nothing they could do. Id do and say stupid attention seeking things just to try and get a shred of empathy.

My family didnt care.

When I was in the hospital for a suicide attempt regaurding pills and my liver had a chance of failing.. None of my family members cried over me. But a family friend. Someone not. Even. Related. Wept over me.

My family didnt care.

I cant say they never cared. They give me food water and luxuries like internet and a phone. For that I am grateful.

But in many other ways they have hurt me faar more than helped.

Once I got out of a short term stay in an inpatient mental facility I desperately needed contact with anyone who would care for me.

I have a younger sister, quite young probably around 7 at the time. She was a close friend of mine for that time. Id hang out with her so often to fill the gap in love it felt my family didnt give. One day I walked into the dining room and overheard my mother and father talking to my little sister. They told her to keep away because I wasnt "stable" because I was "dangerous" and could give her bad Ideas. And with one single action my only friend at the time and way to find happiness was taken away.

My family did not care.

When I stay in bed every day for months on end not knowing which day ill snap and end it all.... I get called lazy.

My family did not care

When I beg for medication to make me a functional human being they brush me off for years on end. Im losing my grip. I can barely remember things that have happened last week because I try so hard to forget everything its my automatic response to everything.

When I cant get to sleep because all of the memories come flooding back and im hit by wave after wave of horrific memories and the feeling if worthlessness... When I cant watch any videos or read posts about families because it brings on unwanted memories and emotions....

Is it me being dramatic then?

When you hear your family openly mocking and laughing about how stupid and dramatic and fake trans people are... How weird and unnatural and mentally insane these people are not knowing they are the very reason grsm and trans suicides are so high...

Am I a liar now? Am I insane?

When I tried to talk to them about my mental health issues. They took my only way of contact and made me feel like it was my own fault.

My family didnt care.

When I was nearly passed out shaking in a bathtub covered in wounds and blood all over... They showed pity, then lectured me for an hour for not telling them or for being impulsive and basically cleaned my wounds and sent me into my room.

My family didnt care.

Yes. I do agree, they cleaned my wounds, the physical side of showing care. However emotionally they were not there.

When my father drinks so heavilly every day he is home from work that he forgets half the things he tells you and can barely function.. They lecture my older sister for having a glass of wine (legal age)

They did not care.

My sister (23) tried for so many years to cling to what little attention she would get by getting good grades and going to college... She realised that it changed nothing about how my family felt toward her.... She snapped.

My family did not care.

She starves herself for a disease she does not have, she uses religion as an exuse to be one of the biggest christian extremists I personally know. Half the days she doesnt eat... Other days she burns book and gets rid of items for being demonic.

My lovely sister used to be kind and quite normal. However she couldnt find comfort in what little live her family gave. Starved for care she turned to religion to un unhealthy degree. Finding any way to keep her mind busy. Now I worry she will end up in the hospital for weighing so little.

My family did not care.

My oldest sister (27) Is married to a continuously cheating husband who she keeps letting back into her life. She was raised with a failing marrige and doesnt seem to see when she should call it quits.

Not to mention her husband has touched someone legally under the age of concent. Did she report him to the authorities? No.

All of these horrific things stemming from bad parenting. Unhealthy relationships and neglect.

Neglect emotionally can cause just as bad things as physical neglect. They are both horrifically dangerous in different ways.

These are the only big things I can remember... Basically age 15 and below are a complete blur to me and I cant remember much of it without thinking for a looong time. Even then I cant remember a lot of it... I feel like ive lost my whole damn childhood. And it hurts more than if they had just hit me or physically harmed me.

Im not underplaying physically harm. But in my personaly opinion I would rather my family have beaten me badly because at least then id have an easier way to prove to people how severe the abuse was. You can see bruises and confirm broken bones... But years of feeling completely useless and being shut off from most of the world other than the internet... It fucks you up in a way I dont think can be healed.

I dont know if I can ever love myself or... Remember things. Its terrifying to think Ill post this and a few weeks later probably not even rememner unless its brought up. Or meeting people and having conversations... And they are just... Gone.

Gone.

I suppose the biggest reason im writing this is well... In the future I dont want to forget in some ways.. I want like to be 100× as awesome knowing itll start as soon as im out of here..

If I dont have anything to compare it too then what is the point?

Ive layed out basically most of what I remember

A large amount of time I look around and nothing registers... Everything is familiar but I cant remember anything for a moment or two.. I feel like my memory is slipping so fast and im terrified.. I cant do anything to stop it and I cant make my mood be stable without the medication my family cant be bothered to get ...

I suppose this is a bit of a vent. I know its kind of everywhere and unorganized..

If im honest.. Tumblr is the only place where people have given me a home I wish I had..

I came out as trans here... Everyone was so damn supportive.. I didnt say anything but I cried hard and the kindness.. It was amazing.. It was such a jarring difference to how I feel when I say anything in real life.

Ive met friends here and ive had some much fun here. If youve stuck around this far thank you so much.. If you didnt I dont blame you.

I just wanted to share what has been flashing in my head these past few days.. It hurts a lot and ive even considered suicide recently..

Im trying hard. As hard as I can.. I have no escape though.

I cannot leave home. I cannot escape. Im not being dramatic.

I

CANT

LEAVE

And its terrifying because I know without medication or at least being somewhere AWAY from family.... I feel like im going to break soon.

I dont want to do anything stupid.. But some days I cant think straight and do things that harm myself and its not good. Its not okay. Im aware that I need help but I have no idea where to go/turn.. I have no ID or drivers liscence.. I have no transportation to and from a job to get money so I can leave... I live in the middle of nowhere.... I just..

I dont want to lose touch. I dont want to do anything bad.. I want to be functional.. I want to do more than eat and sleep my life away because I have nothing else to do..

Im so damn sick and tired of this all.. And at times I really do feel like there is only one way out.

Its always there and I just feel like one of these days im gonna be pushed over the edge and not be thinking clearly enough to stop it.

Im thinking semi clearly right now which is my im posting this.. Because im afraid and alone.

I have nowhere to go irl I have no friends Irl i just have tumblr and media and thats it. I dont expect anyone to be able to help I just wanted to write this so anyone knows what happens if I leave media..

If I tell my family my issues they will blow me off again for the 11th time or so (not exaggerated)

And if I do something to get sent to the hospital and get the help I need the cycle will continue with them being pissed and me getting sent home in a month or less anly for my family relationships to get worse..

Im spiraling fuether and further and I cant keep up the facade of being fine. I need help. And i have no way to get it. Ive just been suffering for years...

Sitting around and doing nothing but using your phone or drawing or whatever sound fun in theory... But if thats all youve been able to do for years with little to no real life social contact its gonna mess with your head... I dont want to be a shut in... I just

I dont know what to do.

Im sorry for rambling. I will most likely delete this later feeling embarrassed I posted this...

Im just tired..

[meshkol]

Twitter Threads (or That One Time Tony Dialled It Up to Eleven)

Summary: Social media is hard and full of trolls, and Tony has poor impulse control.

Notes: I hate this so much. Less cracky than I wanted it, because I suck at writing humour. Fill K-3 for the Tony Stark Bingo 2019: Gossip Press. Unbeta'd as per usual. Any relation to existing twitter handles is entirely coincidental.

Warnings: Social Media, Twitter, Homophobic Language, Sexist Language, Ableist Language, Internet, Trolls, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Goes On A Rampage

No one can say that Tony’s ever had good impulse control, especially about people he loves.

@1234ideclareathumbwar posted: I donno what it is about dr strange but he must suck dick like a pro if hes got iron man whipped god knows theres nothing attractive about him except those dick suckin lips #drstrange #ironman #wtfisstarkthinking

 @100percentDONE-xxx replied: yeah its not like he can give a decent handjob ffs must me the lips or maybe hes just tight every1 knows stark loves a tight whole hes prolly cheating neway poor cripple

 @itsawrapandimreadytoparty replied: Probably just lays there and thinks about the wizard gods just to get that $$$...I’d think of England even for a nymphomaniac drug-addicted sugar daddy too, tbh.

 @BlessYouThor-ness replied: still can’t believe he chose strange over THOR like everyone can see the chemistry between them and tony is such a bottom he’d take thor’s cock so well fuck yes

 @they-did-the-thing777 replied: is it just me or does strange look like an alien maybe there’s no magic at all just aliens and he’s got a tentacle dick and stark just wants to mark off another box on his worlds-biggest-slut checklist #tonystarkispathetic

 @snowflakes_makeme_lol replied: hes just fkn ugly i s2g stark id spread 4 but strange??? that bitch be ugly asf n not worth gettin my dk wet prolly get aids

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: You guys are the pinnacle of our evolution and I am in awe of your genuine kindness and polite generosity (and grammar). Wow, I can’t believe Stephen Strange saved all of your jerkass lives TWICE for this shit and you know what? Everyone knows I’M the cocksucker in this relationship, dumbfucks.

 @kiki_blow_this_popsicle_stand replied: HOLY SHIT LMAO

“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother looking up from his tablet, backing away from that thread because he has no interest in seeing the replies, and hunting for the next war he can wage. “Destressing,” he replies gleefully, clicking on a thread that mentions Pepper. He can feel Rhodey behind him – and, what’s more, he can feel the disapproval seeping out of his pores too now that he’s peeking over Tony’s shoulder – but he’s on a roll, and fuck impulse control when he can sass and bitch on twitter. Some people just need to be removed from the genetic pool of the human race and not be allowed to procreate, honestly.

Somewhere in bumbfuck-nowhere, Fury is having a coronary and Stephen is rolling his eyes so hard they’re permanently lodged in his cranium.

@rudethatyoureallamatwink posted: Does anyone else think that Pepper Potts only got the job at Stark because she’s got awesome legs and a great twat and Tony Stark wanted to stick his dick in? #idfuckher #pepperpotts #starkindustries #idfuckhimtootbh #tonystark

 @MyNameIsGoFuckYourself replied: lol ur gross shes like 35 or smth but wvr u want crusty ol lose pussy u do u bro #oldchickgross #getbotox

 @shredderinmymetal3-14 replied: @MyNameIsGoFuckYourself lmao wtf?? He started fucking her when she was like twenty or something so she was still nice and tight back then. I mean I’d still fuck her right now cause she’s one hot cougar and I bet she’s learned a thing or two from the Slut Extraordinaire. And anyway, how tf do you know what her cunt’s like?? The only hole you’ve fucked is your mom.

 @queeen-bee-says-hi replied: Wow, you guys are pigs. Pepper Potts is a strong, independent, beautiful woman who is worth a thousand of all you, and your mothers would be ashamed of you all.

 @gags_are_the_best_fight_me_bitch replied: @queeen-bee-says-hi hey look theres the feminazi if you want i can replace that stick up your pussy with my dick you know you need it ill fuck you real good show you what a real mans like

 @truthisanillusion replied: I’ll fuck @queeen-bee-says-hi AND @OfficialPotts_CEO at the same time fucking feminazi cunts, god knows you bitches would be grateful for my prick in your gaping lesbian pussies

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: Wow. So. Uh.

1. That’s revolting and my AI just delivered the IPs of @gags_are_the_best_fight_me and @truthisanillusion to the authorities for premeditated violence, rape, and hate crimes. You’re welcome, and feel free to send a cash donation to the charity of your choice for my thoughtfulness. I’d recommend something for women’s or LGBTQ+ rights, and I’ll match it with a multiplier of 1000x.

2. @queeen-bee-says-hi, good for you, and I can see from your profile that you’re a student. Consider your crops watered and your schooling paid for, all the way to your twelfth PhD if you want it.

3. @OfficialPotts_CEO can and will murder you with her pinky nail. I’ve taken on Thanos and I’d rather go ten rounds with him than piss her off. THAT’S why she’s CEO, not because of her admittedly awesome legs.

4. I hate this hellsite. If I buy it, can I kill it?? Rhodey says “technically” so I’m gonna look into that now.

 @i_stan_one_legend_named_virginia_p_potts replied: IRON MANNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!! DEFEND THE QUEEN!!!!!!!!!!! #PEPPERPOTTS4PRESIDENT

 @iaminlovewithcapandimunashamed replied: lmfao incels be fkd when #ironman comes to town

 @truthisanillusion replied: Hey @YouKnowWhoIAm No one trusts you or likes you, you fake ass super “hero” taking it up the ass like a faggot stfu and die already, kthxbye

 @queeen-bee-says-hi replied: whAT OH MY GOD THAT IS NOT NECESSARY

 @OfficialPotts_CEO replied: Tony, stop picking fights and threatening to buy twitter or I’ll ground you. And just accept the gift, @queeen-bee-says-hi - after all, he’s already done it.

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: Shut up Pepper, you aren’t the boss of me.

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: And jokes on you @truthisanillusion because I’m already dead inside come at me bitch I’ll be the one in the multi-billion-dollar suit of armor surrounded by Avengers

 @OfficialPotts_CEO replied: Actually, I am. Don’t make me take away your toys. Or call @Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel. He’s on speed-dial, sweetheart, and he likes me better than you.

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: Rude.

 @Sorcerer_Surpreme_With_A_Scalpel replied: The last time you threatened someone, your house got blown up. Please refrain from egging on internet trolls or I’ll dump you for Rhodes for my own sanity.

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: ALSO RUDE.

“You know, I’m not even remotely bi-curious and I would totally tap that,” Rhodey says absently, though his lips are quirking into a smirk.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Hands off, you little shit, or I’ll tweet about that one time in MIT when you ate that—”

“Fuck you.”

“Been there, done that,” Tony quips cheerfully. “Not remotely bi-curious my ass—”

“You know what’s better than picking fights with twelve-year-olds on twitter? Kicking your ass right here. You come at me, Stank.”

Tony opens his mouth to reply but then gasps, already losing himself in another thread after sending a middle finger emoji into the last one.

@mwahahaha-666 posted: You guys can wax poetry about Tony Stark all you want, but screw that basic-ass rich boy - everyone knows Doctor Strange is the smokin’ hot one. #takemenow #mybodyisready #drstrange

 @ukulele_jedi_master replied: PREACH!!! stark may be loaded but stephen is the one that looks like a prada model giMME THAT MAGICAL DICK

 @xxx-foreverfit-xxx replied: Fuck both of you. I just wanna be a fly on the wall when they’re fucking each other...or better yet, DIRECT them on how to ruin each other #ironstrange #otp

 @highpercentageofuselessnessachieved replied: i wonder if he can clone himself like can u imagine?? being fucked from all ends by #drstrange cock?? what i wouldn’t give to be tony stark omfg i don’t even want the money just the hard dickin from that fine piece of ass

 @its_a_fact_that_captain_america_has_a_big_dick replied: He’s got Iron Man wrapped around his little finger so he must have the biggest dick and the know-how to use it properly. Yes pls and thank you very much, I’ll take that monster dick pronto.

 @TGBYHN_4_LYFE replied: dude i tell u what i would do what @xxx-foreverfit-xxx said: sit in the corner w a ridign crop in 9’’ stilettos rubbin myself while directing them 2 do what i want...make em touch n stroke n suck n bite n fuck each other til they cant walk anymore n then cuddle w them n stroke their hair

 @catcatcatcat-cat replied: I would give my college education, my life, my cow, and my internet access away for the rest of my life for a sex tape

 @xxx-foreverfit-xxx replied: @TGBYHN_4_LYFE omfg fuCK YES CAN YOU IMAGINE listening to them moan as they lost themselves in each oter, so fucking desperate to get off that they’re begging you to let them cum even as they try their hardest to obey, covered in precum and sweat and hot as fuck

 @bigfoot_is_nessie1987 replied: I s2g the amount of fanfiction I write about those two alone should have me committed but I literally can’t stop the two of them are so fucking hot together that it should be illegal god bless Iron Man and Dr Strange and their sexy, sexy chemistry and sexy, sexy bodies #killme

 @one-upon-a-time-in-asgard2 replied: They are the hottest couple in the history of the universe and so fucking pure I love them both so much also @bigfoot_is_nessie1987 I demand a link to your fics cuz I’m always looking for more ironstrange porn #otp #ironstrange

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: @Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel Hey, they think you have a big dick. Little do they know that they’re totally right and that you also have the added bonus of actually BEING a big dick too! #dontthreatentoleavemeforplatypus #orilltagyouinthirstposts #awesomethirstposts #stephenhasabigdick #andiloveit #goodshit

 @mwahahaha-666 replied: OH MY DUCKING GOD

 @its_a_fact_that_captain_america_has_a_big_dick replied: Well, I’d be mortified that Tony Stark is replying to this except Tony Stark is acTUALLY REPLYING TO THIS BLESS YOU IRON MAN

 @Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel replied: One of these days I’m going to murder you with your own bravado and not lose a night’s sleep over it. And fine, I won’t touch Rhodes...I’m sure Rogers is free anyway, and he’s always so polite when I visit.

 @bigfoot_is_nessie1987 replied: Please don’t read my fanfiction I will literally combust in embarrassment also I am dying over here in Copenhagen omfg

 @YouKnowWhoIAm replied: BRO CODE, DUDE. YOU’RE VIOLATING THE BRO CODE. I HATE YOU SO MUCH AND I WANT A DIVORCE.

 @catcatcatcat-cat replied: ...oh my god what does that mean you guys are MARRIED??!?! BLESS THE WIZARD GODS!!!!

 @Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel replied: Rhodes, I know you’re reading over his shoulder, so if you could please take away his phone now before he ends up on the cover of the Times...or breaks the internet. Again. Thank you in advance.

Tony reacts immediately, trying to make a break for it, but Rhodey’s already tackling him into the couch, a hundred and ninety pounds of lean muscle and pretty Class As. Tony hisses breathlessly, the wind knocked out of him, and he struggles valiantly to keep his hands on his tablet while Rhodey does his best to rip it away. He doesn’t have a very good position so he makes a hair-brained, split-second decision to throw his body weight to the side, making them both roll off the couch. Rhodey’s a jerk though, and manages to react fast enough so that Tony takes the brunt of the impact, and he can’t even help but groan in a mixture of mild pain and disappointment as he feels the tablet being removed from his lax fingers.

“Sucks to be you, Stank,” he says breathlessly, fingers flying over the keyboard, and Tony cranes his neck until he can read Rhodey’s reply (and on Tony’s fucking account what in the hell!):

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: I think I broke your hot mess of a husband, Stephen. Come collect him before he murders me with his eyes or gets his hands on another electronic device. We’re in the lab.

Three seconds later, Stephen walks through a portal, looking oh-so-fucking-gorgeous in his battle robes, and wearing a scowl of irritation that bodes well for rough, mock-angry sex in the near future.

Tony grins unapologetically, and abandons the lure of social media in exchange for his pseudo husband.

It’s an easy choice.

Also read on ao3.

Feel free to prompt me things on my Bingo Card!

[vengeancect]

you like making rpg maker games right? are there any reoccurring characters or themes that show up in them? who or what do you take inspiration from?

it’s a very weird surprise that anyone cares or knows enough about me to even ask this, like you’re genuinely that interested. i don’t think i can answer your questions, at least allow myself to answer them, but i can explain to you what the two games ARE, hopefully in the driest most neutral way that won’t make the audience in my head cringe    oh wow this didn’t go very well FUCK

i made the first one (skull island) i think starting on august 31st 2016. i stopped making it somewhere around late november. i made it purely because someone had kindly gifted me the program, and i felt like i’d be ungrateful if i didn’t make something with it. my initial idea was to just throw some awful 15 minute long thing together, use some “random” humor, show it to some people, they’ll laugh and forget about it and i’ll be free from this. but as it went on i felt compelled to put more things in it. my internet was going out often back then so i’d just be left alone working on it for hours on end. i made a starter area and then a hub area and then the 3 main areas and their respective secret events. as it went on, i had ideas and understood i wouldn’t be able to fully realize them due to my nonexisting talent. it was this very strange exhausting tightrope between shame and irony. i went from making areas to trying to draw my own assets, an extremely infuriating experience. i made a school, a city area leading into a park leading into a lab, and a night-time highway leading into a tunnel leading into my patience running out and me getting sick of this and just ending the game. everything about it is completely unbalanced. i went through the trouble of designing enemies even though i could never figure out how to make most of them attack during battles. i incorporated real chat logs and things i’d heard about in the past into their own “levels” and events. the “main character” was still just a stock rpgmaker sprite even though i had gone through the trouble of editing other sprites for characters to make them semi-original. very uncomfortable dialogue was written. you could get a whip as a weapon, from an NPC who tells you “you look good with it”. or something. the bgm for that area was text to speech voices saying “you were always sick, i was always sick”. it stopped being a joke, but it wasn’t serious, it instead became nonsense. there are no themes. there’s no inspiration. nothing could justify this.

when making it i remembered this text file i had from back in 2014, where i detailed areas and the plot of a game i wished i could make but never even tried to. it was about the world disappearing, the protagonist being the only human left alive. his name was mori. he’d find other characters eventually including a little boy who liked watching stars. i put no thought into how it would work, i guess i just unconsciously knew it couldn’t realistically be made without a lot of knowledge, hard work and talent. i thought it would be funny if i tried bringing those characters and areas into life ayway, into this stupid half-joke clusterfuck of a game. the stargazing kid does nothing but despair about how his existence is tainted, how he wants to “go back”, ie. go back to being an idea of something good. parts of that old text file flash by the screen constantly in the background. i made roleplay scenarios from when i was 13 into “””gameplay”””. like “follow this red line in a void, you are then led to a house (that is just a blue rectangle), go up the stairs and meet this naked faceless boy with a suicide note written into his body, who then blows up in a shower of blood and gore.” a random battle happens just before the final stretch of the game. it appears to be a mound of scrap metal and junk with an old TV sticking out the top. this is a reference to another character that appeared in the old concept. a “cool” bad boy character with a TV for a head. i guess that’s how you can tell it was written in 2014. the final boss is Mori, who talks about “leaving this world” through death. in a horrendously drawn replica of my bedroom, you find the original synopsis for the 2014 game, in the end it asks “what happened?” over and over again. the final bit of gameplay in the game is a calm scene with a character talking to you about how all of this was meaningless and you shouldn’t worry about it. you walk by a bunch of graves. the final screen is 3 graves, one for Mori and one for the stargazer, and one open grave for you. you jump in it and the game ends. a quick joke that could have gotten a laugh out of someone turned into a 3 month long self-indulgent masochistic shameful project of fetishized inability, then recorded and put on youtube to satisfy my digital hoarder compulsions.

OKAY NOW FOR THE OTHER ONE in 2017 i tried my hand at making some assets and characters for a game, another fucked up grand concept like the 2014 one and just as impossible to implement. shame got the better of me this time and i gave up. near the end of march 2018 a person i know had made a joke game on Unity just to get acclaimed to the engine. this one was actually successful, short, and made me laugh. i thought it would be funny to one-up said person and make a game myself. and then i tried. and then i learned i couldn’t do it and immediately lost interest. but for some reason i didn’t stop

instead i made safe room, which i developed for all of april and released late may this year. so i made it in less time than skull island, even though both games are just about an hour long, and with this one i had used almost entirely original assets. huh. i repurposed the characters and areas i drew in 2017 and made up a new “””story””” involving them, though some of the usual self depricating “hahaha wasted ideas asshole” humor came through in this one aswell, nowhere as much though. a young boy is stuck in the basement of some mysterious man who had presumably kidnapped him from somewhere. his condition is a mystery and so are the motives of his kidnapper. there is this smart-mouthed, incessant, gameplay interrupting voice constantly coming in and deriding him for everything, but at the same time almost empathizing with him. the voice is confused about it’s own existence. you have nothing to do but watch time go by mercilessly, dreaming to try escaping from your situation. there are no battles in this one. there are two puzzles except they don’t work. i couldn’t figure out how to make them work. i also didn’t care. i stole a lot of music, because in skull island i was terrified that someone would copyright me and hastily cobbled together a bunch of ear-splitting bullshit. at this point i was begging to just stop. stop doing this kind of shit. it’s not funny. it’s not cool how i made this despite not wanting to, despite having years of free time and infinite resources and tutorials on how do anything at my fingertips. this is just shameful. this time there’s 4 “levels” except one of them is like 5 minutes long. i wanted to go a little further with this barely-a-concept i made up. laziness had something else in mind, however. again the “inspiration” is taken from the strange internet interactions i had in the past. fake stories from other people. one trick pony. you go from a forest, to a small house in the “woods”, to a snowy, corrupted mountain taken from a stupid dream i had years ago, to a creepy museum. it’s more…polished than the last one? i guess? it has an unique text box. the main character’s sprite is edited. there’s a place where you have to jump to platforms. sometimes there’s “animated” sprites. i suppose it’s an improvement. the best, nicest looking thing in this game wasn’t made by me. you could play this with your eyes closed, though that’s absolutely not to the game’s detriment.

“You are locked in a room. Some time has passed, enough for you to start doubting everything. You have to escape, you guess, but it’s hard. It gets harder to do anything the more time goes by. You’re forced to depend on him, the person who brought you here in the first place. Most days, there’s nothing you can do. In the middle of all this, I came to exist. Let’s figure this out together, okay?“ this is it’s official description

oh god i hate this. oh man. oh wow what a fucking idiot i am. i can’t even tell if this is ignorant or just narcissistic. i’m just gonna leave this here and go away

[as-the-world-rotates]

“Dear diary, today I learned something about myself…” Nora mumbled to herself.

Nora HATED the daily writing assignments. It was the worst part of school. If you could call the one tiny room she and 7 other girls were shoved into a school. Nora was 16 and lived in a group home. Her parents were addicts who were never in her life longer than a month or so at a time. Nora had been in foster care as a small child, but she became more and more rebellious as the years passed, and the state deemed her “unfit for society”.

It’s not that Nora was a “bad kid” she was just misunderstood. The years of being bounced from home to home, new moms, new dads, handsy “big brothers”... anyone would crack under the situations she had been forced into as a child. Nightmares were her safe place, for reality was always way worse than her wildest dreams.

“Today, I learned that yet again... no one gives a fuxk about me.” Her mother had missed another visit- no big surprise there. Her mother had missed all but one visit in the last three years. What was really bothering her, was the note she had received at lunch a bit ago. Ivy was the “popular girl”, which wasn’t much of a title in a home of only 8 girls with no contact with other teens.

The note was from Ivy. Ivy was 17 and was considered the “popular girl”. Not that the title carries much weight in a place you only see 7 other teens and have no access to internet. Jade had dark brown hair, almost black. She had managed to obtain hair dye, which was a HUGE Nono in the group home and had a streak of teal on her hair. Her grey eyes always looked like they held a secret of yours.

Nora shied in comparison. Mousy brown hair, shit brown eyes, and glasses. She knew she was nothing special. But for some stupid reason she had jotted a note in Ivys journal asking her to meet behind the large tree at lunch. Her hands had shaken as she took the note from Ivy. She excused her self to the bathroom to read it as notes were forbidden.

The words she read burned in her head- Behind the large tree? Why so you can try and kiss me or something you dyke!

The accusation of being a dyke wasn’t what bothered Nora, she had been called that on and off for several years... since the first time she kissed a girl at 12. Was she a dyke? She wasn’t sure what or who she was. But she was upset that ivy wouldn’t even consider meeting her.

Why had she thought it was a good idea... furiously she kept scribbling in her journal as her internal monologue was beating her up inside.

“Not only does no one give a fuck about me, not my parents, not my teacher (sorry miss adams), not the other girls, but I don’t give a fuck about me. I’m not even me! I’m not Nora. I feel so wrong in this body. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t feel like me. I look in the mirror and see a stranger, I’m more than my shell. I’m more than my record, I’m more than my behavior. But does any one see the real me? No! They just see this spoiled girl, who doesn’t listen and is a burden. Fuck that. I’m tired of being everyone’s burden. I’m tired of being alive. I wish I were dead”

Chest heaving she stared at her own words that she wasn’t aware were inside her. She knew she meant them, but she wasn’t aware how deep her self hatred had run. She wasn’t aware she had been at her wits end for so long. She started to panic. Miss adams could NOT read this. They would send her away. But ripped out pages were grounds for punishment.

She looked around for something, ANYTHING she could spill on her paper. As she stood up to refill her water bottle hoping she could tip it over on her journal, Ivy snatched her journal.

“Miss Adams! Look at this! Nora is unsafe!”

Miss Adams was always two steps ahead of everyone. She grabbed the journal and begin to read the entry from the day. “Nora, will you please head to Miss Avarados office now please? Tracy, you will go with her till she is inside.”

Noras shoulders slumped, she knew that this would mean at BEST a week or two of restriction. And at worst... the trash bags of her belongings would move homes yet again...

The door opened with a creak as Nora stared at her torn off brand chucks. Miss Alvarado was in the doorway looking as foreboding as ever. With her voice that seemed to vibrate off walls she stared at Nora,”thank you Tracy, you may go”

Inside the office was only furnished by the therapists desk, and two chairs. One for the overbearing councilor, and one for which ever girls turn it was to be miserable for an hour 2x a week.

“Nora, you are normally one of the ones I don’t worry about which is surprising considering your... track record... why did I receive a call from miss Adams to check my inbox for your journal entry? Are you really that unhappy you want to take your life?”

Nora continued staring at her shoes, maybe if she pretended this wasn’t happening, she could will it into reality. THWACK. Miss Alvarado had smacked the desk with a file. Not just any file, but Noras file. “Nora, I think the best course of action would be to send you to St. Peter’s for a few days for your own safety. You may return once your bout in St. Peters is over “

Nora stayed stone silent for a few moments. Tears welling in her eyes that she would never release, she steadied her voice,” I understand miss Alvarado. I’ll pack my things”

“Nora this is a temporary stay, that won’t be necessary. Bobby will pull up the van and transport you from the office.”

The car ride seemed to go on forever. As the evening drifted into darkness, Nora realized it was much too long of a drive. They should have been there ages ago. City turned to country roads and green hills. She had never been this far from the city. In the distance she saw a small orange glow. She had ridden with Bobby in complete silence besides the flick of his bic as he light up a menthol cool. She decided it was time to finally break the silence.

“Bobby... I’m thirsty... are we almost there?”

Bobby barely acknowledged her besides a small grunt. The orange glow grew larger and she realized it was a small building. She hoped this meant she could at least empty her bladder. It definitely was not St. Peter’s, but at this point she didn’t care where they were as long as they stopped. They pulled into a gravel drive and Bobby parked the car. He got out and lit up yet another menthol.

Nora tried to open her door only to discover it was child locked. The house van never had child lock on it. She began to pound upon the window begging Bobby to let her out. He turned from her and leaned against the drivers side door, staring out into the darkness. The door of the building slowly opened with a blinding light. A figure walked out of the front briefly blocking the light. As the person walked closer Bobby stood up and shifted his gait nervously.

“This her?” The new comer asked gruffly.

“Hey Chase, yeah. She’s ready for transport.”

Transport? What did he mean transport? Wasn’t he supposed to take her to St. Peter’s? Who was this new guy. Why were they discussing her like she was an animal?

The door opened and she was pulled to her feet roughly. She began to fight to try and get away. Chase tackled her to the ground. There were suddenly 3 sets of hands pinning her to the dirt. Before she knew it she was hog tied behind her back. Sobbing and tasting blood she started to black out as she was lifted into the back of a small sedan. She woke up what must have been a few hours later. It was still pitch black and there were two people up front driving.

Chase was behind the wheel, and talking to a woman in the passengers seat. The lady noticed Nora had woken up and nudged him. Instantly the silence was deafening. Chase turned around and swore under his breath.

“Hey Emily, we’re almost to the pit stop. About another hour.”

Nora tried to speak but her mouth was so dry she could barely speak.

“Uh... Chase... I really need to use the bathroom, and could use some water.”

“You can wait.”

“Babe... the girl needs the bathroom. Come on we can grab a drink when we stop.”

Thank god for Emily. The car stopped and she cut off the zip ties on Nora that had been holding her wrists and sat her up. They had apparently stopped at a seedy bar... she couldn’t go inside, she wasn’t even 18 yet, how did these two genius’s think they were going to get her in?

Maybe she could make a run for it once she got inside? CLICK. The sound was a cold metal handcuff being slapped on her wrist. The other cuff was clapped on Emily’s wrist.

“Just incase you got any bright ideas kid.”

Do you know how awkward it is to pee handcuffed to someone else? And of course the cuff was on her dominant wrist so it was harder to wipe in a tiny ass stall. Coming out of the ladies room Chase handed Emily a beer. Nora started to ask for water but they rushed out the door with a nod and “Thanks Tim” to the bartender.

Back at the car they started arguing about if she needed to be hogtied again. Emily seemed to be more lenient. And seemed to get her way. The car ride was strange... her caretakers seemed to be messing with her head. They’d go from silent abs ignoring her to telling her that they were getting married, to telling her they were sister and brother. No matter what the situation was she didn’t care she just wanted the ride to stop.

The sun began to rise as she started drifting off to sleep. Next thing she knew the door was being opened yet again. They were in front of a HUGE old building in the middle of nowhere. The building read “Mercury Ridge”. She had no clue where in the hell they had taken her. The building gave off a energy tht made her stomach turn.

They walked up to the building in unison. A guard took down their information and ushered Nora inside. She turned around to ask Emily a question, and both her and Chase had already left. The door shut behind her with a loud SLAM. The room inside held a few old chairs that looked like they were from the 80’s. You know the old fabric ones with that awful wood arms? Yeah.. those.

There was a huge reception desk and a sign that said “ authorized people only behind this point.” The man behind the counter looked like he couldn’t be bothered to even look up. He was balding and had sunglasses on indoors as if the lights over head were assaulting his senses. The guard walked her a thick metal door. There were no handles on the door. With a swift beep from inside the door swung open.

A tall broad man with thick curly hair and a darker complexion walked through, he grabbed her by the wrist and disappeared behind the doors. Inside it smelt of sweat and urine. A faint hint of bleach wafted to her nostrils. The man introduced himself as Anjelo. But it was more formality, not for conversation.

They went down a maze of hallways and doors. Every door they encountered was locked and Anjelo opened them with a badge. He finally said, “Here we are. Your new home. Girls Unit A.” Then promptly left leaving her standing there not sure what to do. A tall redhead walked up, and finally someone seemed to be able to see her.

“Hey, I’m Tasha. This is Girls A. Welcome. First we have to take you to your room and get you changed. Follow me kid.”

As she followed, faces peered out of doorways at her. None of the bedroom doorways seemed to have doors. Abs she passed a room the size of a tiny closet with the walls and floors all carpeted. There was a door on it, with a TINY window. At the end of a hallway before another set of locking doors, Tasha stopped and motioned into a doorway.

Inside were two wooden beds with matching dressers. One bed was made perfectly, the other had a set of sheets folded on it. Nora was instructed to strip, and a full body search which included a cavity search followed. She changed into scrubs the color of milky oatmeal. She want even allowed her own underwear.

“After you make your bed just hang out till we call you for group. Oh, by the way... your roommate should be back from lunch shortly. Her names Melinda.”

Holding back tears after being violated in such a manner under the guise of a search, Nora stumbled to her bed and began to make it. Her mattress ( it was less of a mattress and more of a yoga mat) smelt of bad body odor, and cheese. Laying down she began to sob. The tears stung her cheeks and she wiped them away with the backs of her hands. She inhaled deeply as the tears touched the wounds on her wrists where she had been restrained during her journey.

No! She would not let them see her break. She would get her self together and figure out where and what the fuck she was doing there.

[dearlazerbunny]

Silence

Pairings: Simon Snow x Baz Pitch

Genre/Warnings: None

Words: ~ 1,500

- Summary: Four times our heroes woke up alone, and one time they didn’t

Based on Carry On by FUN, this collection will be a mix of ficlets and excerpts from the novels that fit into the lyrics. More to come!

Well I woke up to the sound of silence the cars were cutting like knives in a fistfight

-Carry On, FUN.

Simon

When I wake up, I’m alone.

I squint into the light streaming in the dirty window, already disappointed with the day. I’m disappointed any day I don’t wake up at Watford.

This home is more run down than most. The blinds are plastic and dented, doing nothing to block out the sun. My cot is squeaky and uncomfortable, wobbling like it’ll break every time I turn over. I can hear people above me stomping around, yelling, probably eating breakfast. I groan. Another sucky day, another fucking train wreck.

Last night was a disaster. I tried to spell my room tidy for practice like a teacher suggested but I just ended up making a tornado of clothes, sheets, and shoes that whirled around the room until dropping everything at random on the floor. And I didn’t even trust myself to put it back with magic, so I had to do it by hand.

I would give anything to be in my room right now. My real room, at Watford, not this hole in the wall I’m supposed to call home over the summers. Even with Baz breathing down my neck, it’d be a lot better than this. I’d wake up early, and pale light would be shining through the window, but I’d keep my eyes closed and just listen to Baz’s steady breathing from across the room. I hate him, but he keeps me from being alone. The sound of his breath keeps me grounded when I wake, sweaty and panting, in the middle of the night from a nightmare. Here, I have nothing but the sound of my own panic to fill my head when nothing else will. It’s miserable.

I hate waking up alone.

                                                            ..............

Baz

When I wake up, I’m alone.

It’s disappointing, really. And then I’m disappointed at myself for being disappointed. I don’t need fucking Snow to sleep, okay? But sometimes… having another person in the room helps. Not just him, anyone. My room at home is massive, muffled with velvet and oppressive cushions, weighing me down with their heaviness. Snow’s breathing is erratic, but it buoys the atmosphere of our dorm until it isn’t so weighty.

Damn him. I am not thinking about Snow.

I turn over and force my face back into my pillow, trying to clear my head of absolutely everything and go back to sleep. Of course, with my luck, I’ll just end up dreaming about him. I’ve done that before, and I hope to god I never have to take a lie detector test about the maturity content of those dreams, because that’s a test I wouldn’t pass.

I’m thinking about it again.

God, this is so fucking annoying. I don’t even like him. He’s idiotic, volatile, and naïve. The only thing keeping him afloat is Bunce. Why my heart hasn’t gotten the message my brain is screaming, I don’t know.

Go back to sleep, go back to sleep, go back to sleep-

But the thing about Simon is, he doesn’t need to be charming or suave or even competent at what he’s doing. Everyone likes him anyways. He doesn’t even have to try, just smile sideways at someone or scratch that stupid mole and you can practically see them falling themselves silly all over him. It’s maddening. It defies logic. It’s inconvenient, dangerous, and Crowley is it a bad idea. Simon is fire, and I’m flammable.

So why am I still being pulled in?

I hate waking up alone.

                                                            ............

Penny

When I wake up, I’m alone.

It’s so unusual for the house to be quiet I think I’m having another nightmare- where the Humdrum comes and takes them all away, leaving just me with nowhere to go-

I occurs to me this is how Simon feels all the time.

But no, not a nightmare, just a weekday. Parents are at work, Premal is off doing god knows what for the Mage, Pacey through Pip are at school. This flu has got me knocked off my feet an in bed for a week. You’d think I’d be grateful for the silence, but…. It feels too much like he’s doing it.

I grab another tissue and blow my nose, dropping it into the wastebasket by my bed along with a million others, and take stock of my options. I can’t text anyone- the only person who I’d even think to text would be Simon, and he doesn’t have a phone. Agatha has classes, which I won’t interrupt. Micah is long distance so we usually stick to the internet. Maybe Premal? Just to see how he’s doing….

Yeah, right. Fat chance.

Maybe Agatha has the right idea, making a bunch of non-magic friends. Friends who can have cellphones without fear or magical repercussions, who can invite you over on a Friday night without having to shove their entire collection of magical encyclopedias in the closet. Who’d respond to a text message while they’re sitting bored out of their minds in public school.

It sounds miserable, to be honest.

So I lay in bed with my eyes closed, just listening to the house breathe. The creak of the stairs, the hum of the heater, the fluttering of a book left open on a table being kicked up by the air. It’s quiet, and peaceful, and still. And I hate it.

I hate waking up alone.

                                                       ............……

Agatha

When I wake up, I’m alone.

My head is pounding, repercussions from going a little overboard at my parent’s party last night. Someone slipped me a champagne- probably my aunt, she does that- and then everyone else kept slipping me something or other, and, well. It would be rude to say no, right?

I wish I had though.

I groan out of bed and throw on a clean pair of somethings before wandering down to the kitchen in search of food and Tylenol. The house is dead still. As hammered as I am my parents will be worse still, and probably won’t wake up ‘til noon after. I swallow a few pills, washing it down with tea, and listen. No one home. Sunday, I suppose, everyone has the day off. Fun times. I scrounge together some toast and demolish it still standing at the counter, not caring about propriety. I practically make the entire loaf, then crawl back into bed, letting my head drop back against the mound of pillows.

Part of me wishes Simon were here. He does the parties with me sometimes, makes them much less tedious. And my parents let him sleep in my room, on a rollaway cot we have for guests. It’s… nice, waking up with someone else. To hear that you’re not the only person in the universe when you wake up for those few moments in the middle of the night. To see that sleepy smile on their face when you roll over to the sun coming in the window. I look horrid in the morning, hundred percent, but Simon looks almost peaceful. Only time in his life the crinkle between his brows smooths out.

I sigh, and resign myself to a long day of aching nothingness.

I hate waking up alone.

                                                         ..........….. Penny

The fireplace is what wakes me up.

Someone must have come in and put more wood on it because its roaring like it wasn’t an hour ago. I squint at my phone. 5 AM. Plenty of time for more sleep. I snuggle back down onto the couch, letting the plush pillows consume me and tuck the massive blanket I have wrapped around me over my toes.

Boxing Day has always been my favorite holiday. Christmas, you have some obligations. Family and whatnot. Boxing Day, you get to remember that you don’t really like said family and can tell everyone to fuck off.

I got a respite this year though. Baz invited me and Simon over for Christmas dinner. After much begging and pleading, my parents finally agreed. Do they like the Pitches? No. But Baz and I are friends now (wow, what a thought) and it wasn’t like I was going to pass up a chance to see the mansion straight out of a gothic-horror novel. It’s like they want people to think they’re vampires.

After an absolutely magnificent spread at dinner, the three of us crashed in one of the dens to… well, I don’t remember exactly what we were going to do originally, but we ended up just talking and playing card games and challenging each other to frankly ridiculous dares that were entirely too much fun to do. Even Baz joined in when Simon dared him to go screech his violin right in his aunt’s ear. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him genuinely laugh like that.

We must’ve fallen asleep sometime after midnight, spread out on the giant couches surrounding the fireplace. Started like that. Simon and Baz have migrated towards each other like otters, with Simon’s head tucked under Baz’s chin and one arm wrapped possessively around Simon like he’ll fly away in his sleep. Which he very well might, I’ve seen it happen.

I quell the urge to take a picture, and wonder for the thousandth time how I didn’t see that little duo coming.

The room is warm and dim, and I’m still drowsy from the good food and late night. I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders and let my eyes close.

They’ll both be there in the morning.

[paige-s-pages]

15 Feminist Artists Respond To The Censorship Of Women’s Bodies Online

“n March, artist and poet Rupi Kaur uploaded an image to Instagram, depicting Kaur curled up on the bed in sweats and a t-shirt. She’s also on her period, and the blood has dripped through her pants onto the sheets. The image was flagged and removed from Instagram — twice.”

thank you Instagram for providing me with the exact response my work was created to critique. you deleted my photo twice...

Posted by Rupi Kaur on Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Kaur responded to the act of censorship on Facebook and Tumblr; her posts on both of these platforms were shared over 11,000 times. “Their patriarchy is leaking. Their misogyny is leaking. We will not be censored,” she wrote. Instagram eventually responded, explaining the image was “accidentally removed” — twice.

The incident speaks to a larger issue, the way women’s bodies are sexualized and silenced, shaved and shamed by the mainstream media. We reached out to a group of feminist artists we admire, all of whom use their work to address in some way this so-called “feminine grotesque” — the conversion of the female body into something monstrous, abnormal, obscene. The artists graciously shared their responses to Kaur’s image, and the wider problems surrounding women’s bodies online.

Below, 14 other artists respond to the way women’s bodies are still judged and muffled in 2015:

1. Ellie Hunter

“It’s interesting that Kuar’s image would ‘violate’ Instagram’s terms and conditions, when women and women’s bodies are violated on social media thousands of times every day.”

Ruin Aesthetic, 2014, 60 x 28 x 12 inches, Cement, steel rod, tulle, fabric, and natural dye

“The online world is constantly morphing and updating, and creating new systems of power along the way. While it’s positive that Kuar was able to rally enough activists for Instagram to restore her photo, it’s so typical of Instagram’s hetero-fascist technocracy to sidestep the issue with the excuse that it’s removal was a mistake. I’m interested in work that’s exploring the so called ‘feminine grotesque’ as it addresses everyday, low-level anxiety I feel about my inherent attributes as a human woman, despite my constant efforts to counteract this shame. For me, exposing these tensions is a dual gesture of intimacy and of aggression or activism.”

2. Katya Grokhovsky

“There is a clear message here: cover it up, erase it, shut up, be pretty and clean, don’t show us you are a human woman. In fact, we prefer you were a hairless, ageless, oh-so-cool-sexy, tiny, easily-manipulated, shiny machine-object, not a visceral, bleeding, odor-and-noise-and-fluids-producing, food-needing, bathroom-going, valuable, capable, ambitious, smart, emotion-and pain-feeling, gloriously human being.”

Katya Grokhovsky, One Fine Day, 2014, photo Yan Gi Cheng

“The issue of censorship of women’s bodies in general makes me VERY ANGRY. Bear with me, as I clear my thoughts, whilst scampering around the block, amidst the smoke fumes spattering out of my scorching volcano of fury, quickly filling up my breathing space. The persistent, relentless, frightening removal of the reality of women’s bodies by the media and society at large is simply another tool of misogynistic oppression. Thank you for your work, Rupi Kaur. This is important, and we need to consistently bring this problem to light. Ruthlessly. Please excuse me, as I lie down, due to another volatile bout of extreme, nauseating patriarchy fatigue. “

3. Marilyn Minter

“The culture industry creates these impossible robotic ideals through Photoshopping and editing the human body. I think what Rupi Kaur and others are doing is really kind of a punk rebellion against these images, and it’s about time.”

“I think the work of Rupi Kaur and Petra Collins, as well as anyone else who’s work is involved in the feminine grotesque, is a backlash to the cultural ideal that is perpetuated on women, especially young women. The culture industry creates these impossible robotic ideals through Photoshopping and editing the human body. I think what Rupi Kaur and others are doing is really kind of a punk rebellion against these images, and it’s about time. This type of work is an important counterweight to the images we’re inundated with every day.”

4. Rhiannon Schneiderman

“Why is everyone still so terrified of vaginas?”

“I’ve always loved period-themed photographs. I just love having that mutual understanding with another woman of ‘holy shit, my body does this, we are superior!’ To have that connection with the earth, that natural rhythm — that’s a pretty big fucking deal. These women, like Rupi Kaur, are recognizing that cycle and how important it is and how powerful they are for experiencing it. For Instagram to remove those images is over the effing top — I’ve seen blood before, I’ve definitely seen it on Instagram. How can you censor blood? Because the implication is that it fell out of someone’s vagina? Really?? Then maybe you should censor newborn babies, too. Why is everyone still so terrified of vaginas? I hope Rupi fights this, because it’s bullshit. And if she needs help, give her my contact info.”

5. Rebecca Morgan

“I think the larger scope of the problem comes with the long held taboos of women’s bodies and menstruation, seeing them as something dirty we should hide or be ashamed of. The problem is a societal one.”

Show Off, 2014 Ink on vellum 12.75” x 11”

“There is a lot of creative freedom for women artists within our often insular art world; some of the most challenging and interesting work that is being made on both large and small scale is being made by women artists, some even using the language of femininity, craft, gender roles and subverting and reclaiming it. It’s a powerful and exciting thing to see. [...] It is when images like Rupi and Prabh Kaur’s reach the masses that the subjugating and stigmatizing of women is so glaringly obvious and discouraging. The photographs serve as examples reminding women that they have a voice, a vision and a mark to leave, as well as a reminder that they have nowhere to leave it, and no ears to listen. The more that images like Rupi Kaur’s cross over with social and mainstream media and the more this conversation is articulated publicly, the more normalized and de-stigmatized the female body will hopefully be.”

6. Carolee Schneemann

“Many cultures have envied or demonized this bleeding, which is not of an injury, but rather embodies the power of maternity.”

Blood Work Diary (Detail), 1972 Menstrual Blottings on Tissue, Five 29x23” Panels. Photo by Anthony McCall. Courtesy of the Artist.

“‘Blood Work Diary’ [seen above] was a 1972 sequence of menstrual blottings which established the structural form of a fluid physiological process. Through their repetition I developed a visual continuum which charted the permutation of this bleeding over time. Menstruation is often subject to overflow, noting the commonality of menstrual occurrence, women would tell each other, ‘Once again, I’ve just left my mark!’ Many cultures have envied or demonized this bleeding, which is not of an injury, but rather embodies the power of maternity. Profound taboos sustain traditions of cultural revulsion, which attempt to make women’s biology the site of shame.”

7. Melanie Bonajo

“Perhaps I have become lost in a world so technologically advanced and impersonal that, without me noticing, we reached the point where nobody is born naked anymore.”

“As [I am] so often censored, flagged and deleted after showing a naked female body — which for me speaks of nothing more then trust and innocence, humor, play — the only thing I can add for now is: We are taught there is nothing more normal to watch than executions which look like they are produced by Hollywood’s best production teams without blinking an eye, while at the same time we need to be protected from the sight of a nipple, because such a thing can shock us so greatly we might end up on the psychiatric couch. All this just raises one question to me. Perhaps I have become lost in a world so technologically advanced and impersonal that, without me noticing, we reached the point where nobody is born naked anymore.”

8. Audrey Wollen

“I think there is something very powerful about being labeled monstrous. Perhaps an alternative feminist strategy might be to reframe Instagram’s censorship as a positive thing — because it reveals the point at which we exceed the limits of the status quo.”

“I think the censorship of certain parts of women’s bodies [...] is complicated, because our initial reaction is to insist on the ‘naturalness’ of those parts, to insist on our own normalcy. We end up begging to be assimilated. But I think there is something very powerful about being labeled monstrous. Perhaps an alternative feminist strategy might be to reframe Instagram’s censorship as a positive thing — because it reveals the point at which we exceed the limits of the status quo. Instagram (and other social media) is an inherently normalizing, policing force and our exclusion from that is a sign that the female body still has the ability to horrify, to disrupt. Our very existence, in its unedited, embodied form, is threatening, and I think that is something to revel in, rather than resist.”

9. Zhu Tian

“I think my work says better than I.”

Babe’, 2013, Rubber, human hair, pigment

10. Lessa Millet

“People need to keep speaking up about their Facebooks being shut down, or their images being flagged, to encourage others to ask questions about who is deciding what is ‘offensive,’ and inspire conversations about how that reflects on our society.”

“Both women and art have been censored for centuries. But now, because of the internet — and the fact that we have access to multiple channels of communication where we can share our thoughts — we are able to bring attention to who is censoring us and what is being censored. People need to keep speaking up about their Facebooks being shut down, or their images being flagged, to encourage others to ask questions about who is deciding what is ‘offensive,’ and inspire conversations about how that reflects on our society. To me, one of the fundamental functions of art is precisely that: starting conversations, asking challenging questions, and helping us understand the society and moment we live in. I don’t think censorship is going to disappear, but neither are people going to stop fighting it and standing up for our freedom of expression.”

11. Kenya (Robinson) — as CHEEKY LaSHAE

“That’s how you can tell someone is a feminine. Period. Oh, and birthing a baby, who, not coincidentally, also has a powder named after them, an honor that is shared with foot.”

CHEEKY LaSHAE + The Red Bath Mat, Performance at Mike Shultis Studio, Photo by: Jackson Ray Petty, 2014

“I suppose CHEEKY should be up in box about the Instagram reaction to period blood poetics. CHEEKY prefers to turn the focus on itself — reminiscing about its own menarche — which actually looked like melted chocolate in the crotch of its pantydraws. Having mistaken those first cramps for diarrhea, made for a temporarily confusing discovery. Fortunately, Mama LaSHAE had prepared young CHEEKY with a toolbox of all things menstruation –- tampons, flightless pads, ibuprofen, vaginal (b)itch cream, disposable douches, moist towelettes, newspaper (for disposal) and, of course, feminine powder — because CHEEKY was most certainly a feminine now. ‘Cause of the period. That’s how you can tell someone is a feminine. Period. Oh, and birthing a baby, who, not coincidentally, also has a powder named after them, an honor that is shared with foot.”

12. Casey Jenkins

“The reality is that no one censors dominant cultures, no one censors the most powerful and prevalent points of view — they’re the ones who censorship panders to and minorities and those less powerful just have to cop it while having their own expressions silenced.”

“In theory I’m all for people having the choice to either view or avoid viewing whatever they choose. A whole plethora of things might be triggering and traumatic for people and giving advance notice about the nature of content about to be viewed seems to be a considerate and humane thing to do. There are certainly days when I would rather be prepared before having the visages of either of the leaders of the major political parties in my country slapped in my face, or endless reports about male-dominated sports, all of which I find offensive and depressing. The reality is though that no one censors dominant cultures, no one censors the most powerful and prevalent points of view — they’re the ones who censorship panders to and minorities and those less powerful just have to cop it while having their own expressions silenced.

“All of this just perpetuates and strengthens the positions of already powerful cultural norms. Recently the news report of my ‘Casting Off My Womb’ performance work, posted to YouTube by TV station SBS2 as ‘Vaginal Knitting’, had restrictions around it tightened and it’s now available for viewing only to those 18 years or older (this is after almost 6.5 million views though so it’s probably fair to say that ship has sailed). Most other news reports about the piece had big ‘Warning!’ banners plastered across them also and I’d be curious to hear exactly what it was that self-appointed censors considered so potentially harmful about the piece — the fleeting shot of my pubic hair? The stain of my menstrual blood? [...] When artwork is wrapped in a censorship banner people gear themselves up for horror and tend to see what they’re primed to, rather than what it actually there.”

13. Jenny Sharaf

“Politics aside, this is pretty good marketing on Rupi Kaur’s part. People aren’t usually writing about poems and period art in the breaking news category.”

14. Doreen Garner

“The idea of feminine and grotesque in the negative sense existing as a combined term encourages us to despise biological truths regarding physical progress into womanhood which includes pubic hair, stains, menstrual blood, secretions, and other pungent qualities.”

The Observatory, 2014, Video, Hour Performance inside Glass Box

“Originally, grotesque as a 15th century term is a style of elaborate curves and decorative elements of paintings found in the ruins of Roman caves or grottoes. Today we use it to describe qualities of a person place or object that is repulsive, strange or disgusting. Grotesque as a descriptive element functions in a space of perversion which is simultaneously occupied by my creative practice. The feminine grotesque is a term that I am very much confused by as a woman and as an artist. Constructed by White American misogyny, the idea of feminine and grotesque in the negative sense existing as a combined term encourages us to despise biological truths regarding physical progress into womanhood which includes pubic hair, stains, menstrual blood, secretions, and other pungent qualities. All of which coexist with publicly embraced signifiers of beauty.”

BEFORE YOU GO

Twin Blue Ribbon (diptych), 2011 Graphite and gouache on masonite 6” x 6” and 6” x 6” RM020

Sweet Jug, 2014 Porcelain 7” x 5” x 5” RM015-cer

Internet Creep, 2011 Ink on paper 8.25” x 5” RM050-wop

Prize Jugs, 2011 Graphite and oil on panel 22” x 30”

Hunter or Hipster, Male, 2012 Graphite and oil on panel 26” x 22”

Patina Jug, 2014 Terracotta 7” x 5” x 6”

Self-Portrait as Prisoner, 2012 Graphite and oil on panel

Self-Portrait wearing my favorite scarf and sweater/my face the fattest it’s ever been, 2013 Graphite and oil on panel

Tourist Bumpkin at Dusk, 2011 Graphite and oil on panel 12” x 9”

Bride, 2014 Ink on vellum 14” x 11” RM132-wop

Precious Jug, 2014 Porcelain 7” x 5.5” x 5.5” RM019-cer

Silver Shock Jug, 2014 Porcelain 6.5” x 5” x 5”

Homecoming Picnic, 2012 Graphite and oil on panel 62 x 69”

Hippie Witch Man, 2014 Graphite and gouache on masonite 6” x 6”

Beauty Jug, 2014 Porcelain 7” x 5” x 5”

I Love New York, 2009 Graphite on paper

Small Grey Jug, 2014 Porcelain 6.5” x 4” x 5” RM021-cer

Butt, 2014 Ink on vellum 12.75” x 11”

Untitled, 2014 Ink and gouache on paper 5.5” x 3.5”

Mountain Love, 2013 Ink on Color-aid 9” x 6”

Show Off, 2009 Porcelain 6” x 4.5” x 5.5″

Frank, Priscilla. “15 Feminist Artists Respond To The Censorship Of Women's Bodies Online.” HuffPost. HuffPost, December 7, 2017. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/artists-respond-female-body-censorship-online_n_7042926.

[leather-n-laces]

It took me a year to break down but I finally (angrily) admitted something out loud.

Last year we had to put our 13 y/o golden retriever down. Around the same time, my middle sister decided to drop everyone and her responsibilities, including her pet (s) in favour of a relationship. Her dog Skye, fell into the worst fucking depression I’ve seen in my life. Skyes friend was gone, she saw her owner maybe once every few days for five minutes. She stopped eating, wouldn’t play, wouldn’t go outside, she just wasted away in her kennel. Nothing I did helped because I’m not pack, I’m not her mom.

So it was decided we needed to get another dog for Skye. I wanted to adopt an older dog, preferably a golden. I wanted an older dog. I was fucked up last summer. I couldn’t handle a puppy, I knew that. No one else was around and I wouldn’t have trusted any of them to look after a puppy anyways because my family is made up of the most irresponsible lot of people in the universe.

My sister and mother are adamant we can’t get an older dog. They think Skye will react badly or feel like her position as leader is challenged. I try to tell them that’s what meetings are for! That’s why you do home visits! But no. It needs to be a puppy. A puppy that can handle 70lbs of Skye.

So they start obsessively trolling the internet for puppy ads. After a few weeks of them obsessing we make a 2hr drive to the middle of nowhere to see a bunch of puppies. I saw the pictures and said yeah one of them is super pretty 🤷🏻‍♀️ idc if we see them

Skye is super fucked up by this point. I’m the only one trying to help, no one else is listening to me. In my mind - this is bad. Skye was already sick, and what if it got worse? It was so easy to picture her just...dying. Like giving up because physically she already had.

I have severe anxiety. I’m terrified of getting in trouble, I’m terrified of people being unhappy with me or me saying the wrong thing.

We’re playing with puppies and they all look at me “it’s your choice, it’s up to you, your dog”

I was not mentally sound at the time. They all knew it, I could barley get out of bed, I wasn’t sleeping, I was sick, drinking every other night. On top of that - I will make every decision based off what I think will make people happy

Even if it’s the absolute wrong answer and I know it is

They stare at me, it’s almost 11pm. “What do you think? It’s your dog. Your choice” (I don’t remember why they decided it was my dog??? I have a dog, I didn’t want another???? I think it was because I was home all the time...)

I reluctantly say yes. Because she’s cute and we drove all this way, it’s late and what if we drove out here for nothing? Maybe it will help Skye! This is apparently, literally the only thing I can do in my brain. So I say yes.

Within a week I realize holy fuck we have a puppy. This is a lot for me. This is very close to too much for me. I’m still in a very bad way so I beg my mother to help me with her, ask her to get my sisters to help. No one does - “your dog!!!”

A year later. River is over 70+ pounds and afraid of everything. She has a big booming bark and jumps/tries to drag me to people, dogs, other animals, or loud vehicles like she’s telling them to fuck off. I can barely manage her. Ilene don’t have a fenced yard and I’m scared to take her off the property. I know she wouldn’t hurt anyone/anything but a huge dog jumping and barking? That’s a bad fuxking look.No one else, save for my boyfriend will take her out. Or play with her. My mother doesn’t call her River, she calls her “fucking retard” or “moron” or “idiot” or “dumbass”. The only time she pays the dog any attention is if she’s yelling at her and telling her how bad she is. My mother tried to use her “ negative reinforcement training”on River (grabbing her ear and pulling her into submission/TIL it hurts???) and I freaked the fuck out. I don’t care what she’s doing. You don’t hurt things to teach them. My mother got SO mad at me.

I found a trainer, we’ve only had two lessons. Part of it is I got busy and depressed after I was fired. I spent all my time sorting out a new job, and since I was home 24/7 I was expected to be housemaid again. I was surrounded by the negativity and the hate and the fucking mess all the time.

The trainer was so kind and knowledgeable but I’m terrified of getting in contact with her. I haven’t made any improvements with River because I let myself drown in the depression. To make matters worse. I would try to explain what the professional trainer recommended, how to proceed with River. Everyone ignores it. My dad thinks it’s stupid, my mother just doesn’t give a fuck. It made me feel so defeated. Like what am I supposed to do if they’re going to undo all the work?

Why is this coming out now?

River chose my baby sister as her second alpha. My baby sister will tell you herself she’s not a good person. She has her moments but overall she’s a Grade A Bitch. My sister has 0 time for River and her puppy energy. Which is bad because the dog loves her. Wants pets from her, wants to play with her. My sister forcibly shoves her and yells at her.

Tonight my sister looked at me and said “if that dumbass jumps on the couch I’m throwing her ass off.” In the most vicious tone I’ve heard in my life. I went off. I fucking went off. I’m so tired of people treating her like shit. It’s not her fault she’s here, it’s ours. It’s our fault she’s not trained, her bad behaviours are our fault.

During my rant about that I blurted out that I didn’t even want a puppy. I didn’t want a dog. She tried to say “well why didn’t you say no?” And I lost it. I did say no but I had to give up. I did what I thought was right because it was about the well-being of the pack.

BF and I go out. When I come home my father is waiting, and like I’m 12, asks where all this stuff about not wanting the dog came from. Why did I let it happen? Why didn’t I say anything! I tried to tell him that I literally couldn’t. I was terrified, because this would be my fault too - if it didn’t work out all the money spent and the annoyance caused would be on me. He also said my sister told him she asked me nicely to keep the dog off the couch and I tore her apart for no reason. Which, she lies. Years ago she sent my dad 30 manic texts telling him I was so mad I was going to kill her and she feared for her safety. She begged him to tell me not to touch her. Our other sister is my witness, I’m not And ever have been violent, and I was mad that night but all those texts she sent about me threatening her? I didn’t talk to her at all that night. Not a word. Not a fucking word.

I’m so tired of this. I don’t deserve it, River doesn’t deserve it. I’m at my wits end with everyone and as bad as it is - with River (it’s my fault - I’ve been a shit owner) and I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like such a bad fucking owner, for even saying “I didn’t want her” but it’s true. I got her because I thought that was what needed to be done. It wasn’t a good idea. I don’t want to get ride of her. No ones suggested it but I feel like if things don’t improve someone will say something. As much as she drives me crazy and as anxious as she makes me I don’t think I could. we’ve always had big dogs and I know if I could just get her energy managed properly and stick with the training she would be good. It’s so hard to work with her because we don’t have a fenced yard, no one we know does. We don’t have space in the house right now either where I can do 1 on 1. I can’t get her energy down because taking her out is a nightmare. I’m always worried about what if someone gets scared by her and calls animal control? What if I let go of the leash when she’s pulling like crazy and she runs into traffic? We live beside a highway...that’s busy all the time. She’s so strong and I’m just...not. I’m no match for a scared/hyped up Monster.

I just don’t know what to do anymore. I kind of want to send a lengthy email to the trainer explaining the situation, because I haven’t contacted her in over a month but even that terrifies me since there’s been no progress because I suck...

[rikirachtman]

So, not really sure how to go about saying this. I don’t think there’s any non-melodramatic way to say “I’m about to kill myself” lmao. It’s a pretty heavy thing to have to publicly announce. My head’s a little scrambled at the moment, partly out of fear, partly out of exhaustion, partly out of just sheer emotion making it difficult to think coherently. If this whole thing ends up a little messy then I apologize, you’d think I’d sorta put more effort into what could be the last thing I ever write. I’m also pretty long-winded, scatterbrained, and like to ramble, so this is going to be a very, very long note.

It’s hard to pinpoint one specific reason why this is happening. Primarily I think it’s loneliness; I’ve been in three relationships in my entire life, all three of which have been long-distance deals, so there’s that. I’ve never had very many friends; people that talk to me on occasion, but that’s few and far between and I still spend long periods just too scared to leave the house. I know I’m pretty damn repulsive, and having not hugged or even touched another human being in months admittedly makes me feel just a tad more repulsive; I guess I’m just lonely, emotionally, physically, in general. I’ve spent every birthday since I was 11 alone in my room. I know I just kinda creep/gross people out, and that accounts for why I don’t really have any friends to hang around (I do have some, but still I don’t wanna overstay my welcome with them). The breakups I’ve experienced have pretty much been life-altering experiences for someone as bad at coping with loss as I am, and recent events concerning my previous ex have pretty much sent me over the edge, leaving my current partner to have to deal with me crying and moping about someone that I broke up with long ago anyway. I definitely make an effort to hide it (I think a lot of folks see me as disgusted by the concept of love pffft), but truth be told I think it’s the only thing that makes me happy anymore. Having what I had with my first girlfriend (who I remain friends with to this day) was an incredible experience, and the second was good too, up until the end when things fell apart thanks to my own mistakes, in both cases. My current boyfriend (yeah, sorry to my family for not really coming out about the whole “bi” thing until my death lmao, but uh there you go, hope nobody’s too disappointed) is an amazing human being who, frankly, I don’t deserve. I’d do anything to see him, but being separated like this is too much for me to handle. I can barely take another second of the jealousy I get when I see happy couples together everywhere I go and we’re still here separated. The fact that I have someone AT ALL is amazing of course, I truly thought I’d die alone, but I guess the bad things in life have outweighed the good.

There’s also the fact that I’m just in general kind of a piece of shit. I’m ugly, dishonest, completely talentless, hypocritical, overweight, over-emotional, unintelligent, lazy, whiny, weak, cowardly, I couldn’t think of a simple positive trait I possess. On top of being broke, alone, and sorta in the middle of nowhere, I’ve really got nothing going for me. The only thing I wanna do with my life is play music, and that’s not exactly gonna make me any money. I’ve been making plans for this since roughly the time of my first breakup, which I think again illustrates how absolutely garbage I am at letting go of things pffft. If that’s not enough, my second partner now being involved with someone new is one of the major events that’s sent me completely over the edge recently, which is pretty goddamn slimy for someone already in a relationship with an amazing human being, who has saved my life multiple times now. I’ve missed enough school (not through dislike of school, but because the stress is too much for my weak mind to deal with) that I think I’ve effectively thrown any future career options out the window. Ultimately I think it’s better for everyone if I’m gone; I’m unimportant, irritating, generally just not someone that I believe would be missed. A few of you might be upset for a while, I know, but you’d get over it, you’d get over me, I promise. I don’t feel the world is losing anything with me gone; at best it’ll be gaining something, assuming that I’m remotely important enough to cause any change either way pffft.

There’s so many lovely people out there who I’ve met in my life and I wish I could say goodbye to each and every one of you. Every person I’ve ever met has been an important part of this journey, even if I’ve had bad times. My mom, my dad, my brother, my grandparents, Sam, Lehi, Seth, Alyssa, Carrie, Cole, Zeke, Hala, Ian, Heidi, Dan, Ryvre, Brittany, Randi, Gray, Andrea, Athena, Maddie, Zeke, Josiah, Emma, Sinead, Koko, Natasha, Cierra, Kinzie, Morgan, Lily, Elia, Tyson, Jordan, Grace, Adie (you probably won’t ever read this, but still). Just to name a very, VERY small portion of the souls that I’ve encountered throughout my life, and whether we’ve had good times or bad times, I think everyone has had an affect on me in some way, which I’m forever grateful for. I’m sorry, however, that I couldn’t take that effect and put it to some use, and instead I’m squandering any potential I MAY have had (unlikely but eh) by ending my life.

I know some people might be hit harder than this by others. Mom, I know this is going to hurt you a lot, I know you’re going to feel at fault, or feel like your life is over. Please don’t think that, please. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain I’m inflicting on you by forcing to lose one of your own children, and I’m so, so, so sorry. I love you, please carry on, please be strong, please don’t blame yourself. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, thank you for raising me, I’m sorry things went this way. This goes for my brother, my dad, all my other relatives. I was lucky to have a good family, I’m grateful for that, truly. 

My closest friends, both those I’ve made in real life and those I’ve met on the internet because I’m a loser lmao, I love you all too, very much. My loneliness would be far more powerful if you weren’t all around for me. You’ve all contributed positively to my life, and I really hope I’ve been able to contribute to your lives as well. I wish I could go see each and every one of you before I do this, but I know I’m kind of a pain to be around and that’s understandable. I hope you all have great lives.

My boyfriend, Sam, who has outright saved my life multiple times and been a constant force of positivity in my life since we met. We’ve only known each other a short time, but it feels like so much longer, it feels like I’ve known you forever. I’m sorry I never got to see you in person, it was one of the last things I was holding out for, but it just looks so difficult to do at this stage. Please don’t blame yourself, please know you helped me hold on a lot longer than I would have without you. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get over my past relationships, I can’t imagine how much that hurt you, dealing with that, with my moping, while you stayed up all night every night helping me. Thank you. You’re going to do great things with your life, I promise you, you’re an angel, my angel, don’t let this break you. Be safe, be brave, carry on like you always do, because you’re strong. I love you so much.

Now, with my long history of generally being a fuck-up, there’s a pretty massive chance I’m going to mess this up too. With my limited resources, I’ve had to choose a pretty risky method of hanging (shower curtain road is the strongest thing in this house lmao), and so it’s very likely the rod will break and I’ll fall. Now I want to make it clear that if that happens, if for whatever reason I end up paralyzed, brain damaged, or otherwise unable to communicate my wishes, I ask that you PLEASE, PLEASE end my life. Life is agonizing enough as it is, I cannot spend the rest of my days as vegetable. I am begging anyone who will listen to please just fucking kill me if I end up like that, I can’t do it, I’m too scared. If I do survive mostly unharmed and okay, then fuck, I dunno, maybe the experience of a failed suicide will make me realize “hey, I DO want to live after all”. I hope it does, because I don’t want to survive and still feel the way I do. But Jesus, this NEEDS to happen, one way or the other.

My head is really starting to hurt now, I’ll admit that the prospect of staring eternity in the face is a little scary. I don’t know what lies beyond death; I hope nothing, no existence, no thought, no feeling. That may sound scary now, but it won’t be once you get there because…I mean, you just WON’T be there to be scared in the first place. The idea of an eternity, no matter what kind, terrifies me, especially a hellish one. The fear of the afterlife, along with the fear of the pain and fear that will be going through my mind when I die, are the most major things that have stopped me from killing myself much sooner. However, the fear of life has overcome the fear of death, and I’m ready to try it.

I don’t really know what else to say. Anyone who wants my stuff can take whatever they’d like (unless mom wants to keep all my stuff, which is absolutely okay too), please choose a good picture (like I dunno, my current Facebook one or something) to use at my funeral (again, assuming anyone would show up, which is pretty unlikely haha, but ah well - bottom line, just don’t use one of those gross pictures of me in 7th grade, nasty stuff), please don’t dress me in my horrible pyjamas that I’m about to die in for the funeral, and again, please kill me if I become paralyzed/brain damaged/et cetera. I am so sorry for all the bad things I’ve done in my life, I’m sorry for inflicting my existence upon those who’d had to put up with it. I shouldn’t have been born in the first place, but better late than never, right?

I guess that’s that then. If I die I die, if I live I live, and if it’s the latter case then I’ll let you guys know. Once again, thank you all for having been a part of my life, I enjoyed it, I just didn’t enjoy myself. My dreams of starting a band, traveling the world, having children, those things might never be realized, but I didn’t deserve them anyway. I’m sorry to end this on such a whiny note, I really wanted to make this a little more lighthearted, I just don’t have it in me right now. My head hurts, I’m scared, but this has to be done.

I love you all, so very much, thank you for having made my experience in life better.  -Matt

[tolkien-in-beleriand]

now who’s up for a ranting from the old Tolkien lady here

I am so done with everything

I don’t even know what to say but I want to say it anyway

as you know I got a job which is great, the job is nice even though it doesn’t pay well but I had NOTHING so it feels great, to know I can pay my bills and stuff

but things still suck SO FUCKING MUCH

and now it gets even worse because you know, a lot of you know how people treat mental illnesses right

like, I still have 0 money, can’t afford anything but things did get better in that area, I don’t need to beg on the internet anymore and be offended by clueless anons, I can at least pay my most urgent bills and buy some food, damn! I might even be able to go watch Logan!!! but now if I say to anyone that I feel awful they immediately say “ but you got a job?????? how can you say that????????? things are getting better!!!!!!!!!! stop complaining about everything!!!!!! everyone has problems!!!!”

OH REALLY CINTHIA I HAD NO IDEA 

AM I NOT THE ONLY TROUBLED SOUL IN THE UNIVERSE??????????? SHOCKER

I am so fucking mad

MONEY DOES NOT CURE MENTAL ILLNESSES

HAVING A JOB DOES NOT CURE MENTAL ILLNESSES

GOD DAMNIT WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE

being in extreme poverty wasn’t my only problem until a couple of months ago

yes, that part is partly fixed for now but everything else is still here

I still have no fucking hope in anything, I still want to fucking die, I still desperately want to disappear forever

before people would be like “oh poor thing, yes it’s really hard what you are going through” but now it’s all “why are you still complaining you got a job”

not having a job or any money made my life really harder the past two years but it was never my main problem

I was sick before and I still am

and now I’m still sick and have to go out to work because I need to

I have at least 2 panic attacks a day because I have to use public transportation and I’m terrified of it

I don’t have anything real in my life

I don’t want to sound special - I am not - and I know there is a lot of people going through way worse than me

but nothing in my life is normal

I don’t have normal, my life is a mess

I don’t have a real family, I don’t have a real relationship, I don’t have a real job, the friends I have are all internet friends except for a couple of people but they all live in another city which makes them internet friends too

not even my period is normal

all my friends talk about how they just put a tampon and they are good to go for 4, 5 hours????? no worries???? no leakings????

and then I have to put a maxi tampon AND a maxi pad and still have to change both IN LESS THAN A FUCKING HOUR

can you believe that

yes, both, tampon and pad, full in an hour

how is that even possible, do I actually have all that blood to spare

and no I am not one of the lucky persons who get two days of period no

IT’S A WHOLE DAMN WEEK

why why why

why can’t I have anything normal?

then my boobs are too big and face too ugly, and I’m too short and fat, and my teeth are all ugly too because I didn’t have adult supervision until I was 5 and they were all fucked up by then

my only bra just broke (about time, poor thing, I bought it in 2011) and of course I can’t afford a new one for now and even if I could it’s close to impossible to find one here in this goddamit place because it has to be special made, super big in the boobs and extra tiny in the back (the one I had I bought in Portugal, they understand there that people with tiny backs can have big boobs)

so why

why can’t anything be normal with me

I like being different in some ways but I am so tired

I want something normal in my life

I am 32 years old

everyone I know, literally everyone, has either a partner, a car, a job, a family or a child

I mean, this is confusing

some people are single and have a crap job but they have a family, others have a car and a job, others have a partner and a job, and so on...

most of the people I know have all of that

I don’t even know how to drive

I have nothing

oh no

actually I have a PhD

and what’s that good for again?

NOTHING

yes being called for speeches and lectures is nice bit that’s all have

while people are planing their anniversary dinner I am scrolling down tumblr

while people are getting married and having kids I am updating my crap blog or crying over fictional characters

don’t get me wrong, I am proud of not “adulting” like society expect me too

but I wish I had the chance to choose you know

have the option

I’d still do all that but you know... if some kid on tumblr said “why are you here if you’re 30? don’t you have a life” (like it happened before) I could say “yes I do have a life but I chose to be here”

not that I care what a kid here thinks of me, but I do, I make myself that same question evey day and the truth is: I am here because I have nowhere else to be, because I have nothing in my “real life”

and no hope of having anything

I never had a chance to be normal and now it’s too late

I can’t go out shopping for a bra, I can’t make plans with a friend or a partner, I can’t have any hope of ever planing my wedding or a pregnancy, I can’t just put a tampon and be safe and untroubled for 3 hours, I can’t take a picture and not worry that I look like a walrus, I can’t smile without the certainty that I’m scaring everyone around me, I can’t call my mom or dad and complain to them, I can’t drive to my temporary unofficial work, I don’t even have a real home where I can feel I belong

my family and the person who takes care of me is my ex boyfriend

I’m not asking much, I will gladly keep being the old crazy Tolkien lady who lives with her ex 

but can I have something regular please? anything?

maybe I don’t know, a different default thought instead of “suicide”

or maybe... I don’t know...

I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.... 

I’m a waste of time and space and I should be gone already, why am I still here? I have no idea

I think it is my terribly awful suicide skills

oh well