#but after everything the fucker has done to have someone like the post it's disgusting

[wongyuuu]

Actually going through my blog to get the Kris Wu fic permanently removed.

I never even added it to my masterlist and it's been years since I posted so I kind of forgot about it but someone just liked one of the chapters and I'm 🤮🤮🤮

[tharros-auris-black-asimi]

Lay All Your Love on Me (Chapter 7) (Part 1)

Paring: Soft Dark Alpha Lee Bodecker x Female Omega Reader

Summary: After moving to Knockemstiff, Ohio with your troubled parents, you find solace in the local Seven-Eleven. There, you bump into the Alpha sheriff, Lee Bodecker.

And then you keep bumping into him. There's just something about the chubby Alpha that keeps drawing you in. Now there's something going on with the new preacher of the church that you attend. Everything's a mess.

But you're an unbonded Omega. Life can turn to shit anyway.

Chapter Warnings: This chapter opens with Lenora's post-rape. Mentions of sexual coercion, as well as cheating from Preston's end. Unplanned pregnancy via rape is mentioned here too. Mentions of serial killers, and Carl just being downright creepy. Anger issues from the Reader, as well as gun violence and death threats. There's also another character death in here, so we're keeping count of the body count, lol. Some possessive behavior from Alpha Daddy. I've been writing him as soft!dark, but in this chapter and the next one, he's gonna be full-on dark. Maybe a tiny smidge of fatphobia in this one? Like a small smidge. A blink and you'll miss type of smidge. Just to cover all of my bases.

Additional Notes: I am so, so sorry for how long it took for me to update this on Tumblr. I usually update this fic on my AO3 first before I update it on here. But, since I split this chapter into two, it took longer than I thought. So this will just be part one, and part two should follow quickly!

Please read the chapter warnings before continuing with this chapter, as this chapter and the following chapter will have some disturbing themes. I want this to be a safe space for everyone. And, if you're a minor, please do not interact. Thank you!

I also have a series taglist for this series now, so if you'd like to be added to just the series taglist, let me know!

Word Count: 3, 370

Two days before your annual visit... with Lenora in the afternoon

Lenora Laferty was crouched over the toilet seat in the girl’s bathroom, vomiting her guts out.

Sick.

She had been feeling sick for the past week.

She didn’t know what had caused this. Lenora had woken up every single morning for the past week with an urge to puke her guts out.

Emma and Arvin had been getting used to the sounds of puking in the morning.

It was becoming alarming.

Emma was fully ready to ask if she had been frolicking around with an Alpha.

But she hadn’t, because she had gotten so busy.

Later though, she would ask.

Now, now though, Lenora continued to puke her guts out.

Her Omega had been very vocal this past week. Screeching. Throwing a fit. Screaming and shouting at her, due to the changes coming in her body.

She hadn’t wanted this.

She had wanted none of this.

Lenora’s Omega had screamed and shouted when Lenora had entered Preston’s car. Her screaming had become louder when the disgusting Alpha, (married too, she should add), kissed her. She had thanked some fucking being up there when Lenora had pulled away, stammering and saying that he was married.

Oh. And he was married, did Lenora’s Omega mention that?

Yeah.

Mhmm.

The Preacher was married.

He had a bite mark on his neck.

Preston Teagardin had an Omega for a wife. No pups, though. From what the church gossip said, he only got an Omega because Omegas were easier to control. His Omega wife had been a young, defenseless thing. It was horrible, what Preston Teagardin did behind her back. He had raped a young Omega who had just presented in his car, and who was currently vomiting her guts out in her school bathroom.

Lenora’s Omega remembered how much she had pleaded, begged him to stop whatever he was doing to her because she was currently sweating so much. Beads of sweat rolling down her temples as her Heat made her scent riper. Lenora had remembered saying, pleading, crying out so many no’s. She had pleaded with the Preacher that all she wanted was to make the pain go away. All she wanted was the pain to go away.

“I’ll help take the pain away,”   he had told her.

What he had done to her had been way worse.

Lenora had been pleading, nay, begging him no. No, no, no, no, no. All she wanted was some toys to help her out. She’d take them and go back to the Russell household to due with her Heat herself. Her pleading had turned desperate when she saw his wedding ring on his hand. She knew he was married. He knew he was married. It was a sin. Why was he doing this? To her? All she had wanted was for him to leave her alone. To stop looking at her, sniffing at her like she was something he could eat. Like a predator in the shadows, waiting to pounce on their prey.

And he had.

Oh yes, he had.

Lenora had remembered screaming until he had put a hand across her mouth. Flipped her over onto her stomach. Her Omega had been so busy screaming and throwing a fit in her mind that she didn’t register him pulling her dress up, yanking down her underwear, where she had slapped on a thick Slick Pad.

“No,”   She had been begging again, “Please Preacher- you’re… you’re married. This ain’t right.”

“It’s okay. No one has to know.”

There was a moment of hesitation.

Preston had taken that slight beat of silence as a yes.

Lenora had screamed again.

The brunette, young Omega had lifted up her head from the toilet bowl. The urge to vomit was still there.

Never had she ever felt this sick.

He had violated her body. Taken a piece of her that she could never get back.

Now, Lenora’s Omega was fully convinced, that she was pregnant with this fucker’s pup.

Lenora could feel the bile rise up to her throat again. She vomited into the bowl again.

Her scent of cherries and vanilla was burning. Making her eyes water.

Not to mention her Omega was throwing the biggest hissy fit known to man.

Her Omega wanted blood.

She wanted justice.

But now…

Now...

Everything had gone wrong.

Everything had been utterly ruined.

At the same time in Knockemstiff with you and Lee...

Carl was staring at you.

Actually, he had been interested in you ever since he came here.

Why would his brother-in-law be with someone like you?

It perked his interest.

So he watched you.

All the while your eyes were completely focused on the TV.

When Carl had been young, he never really stood out in crowds. He was always awkward. He discovered a love for photography when he had been young. He had been the only Beta in his family. His father had been an Alpha, his mother an Omega, his sister an Omega, and his brother an Alpha. His parents had always favored his brother over him, even though he had been the eldest.

With all the things at home… he never felt any happiness.

Photography slowly became his comfort.

The first time he had killed someone was when he had been in his early twenties. A simple knife through the neck incident.

It had also been his first picture.

Carl… Carl couldn’t begin to explain the euphoria that had run through him then.

Like a switch had flipped.

He had found his calling.

His true calling.

And when he had married Sandy, he had made it his life’s work.

Every murder, every picture… it was like a piece of heaven. Like Carl was close to those pearly white gates. Almost as if he was being baptized and made holy.

The Beta man had always used his Omega wife as bait to lure in his victims. Omegas had naturally sweeter scents. Easier to lure in prey. Carl never had an issue with his wife getting all of the men. Alphas or Betas. He knew male Omegas didn’t exist. Just like female Alphas. So, he didn’t mind that his Omega wife did the bulk of the work.

Until now.

Knowing how good Omegas smelled, it didn’t surprise him by how good you smelled either.

But you?

You smelled really, really, really good.

Even better than Sandy.

You smelled like chocolate chip cookies. Freshly baked. As if he had just pulled them out of the oven.

And your gland.

There was Lee’s bite mark on your neck. Showing the entire county who was your Alpha. Who you belonged to. Carl had noticed Lee’s bite on his gland from you looked to be there longer. Almost like you had bitten him first.

How peculiar.

In your society of Alphas, Omegas, and Betas, it was very unusual for Omegas to bite first. The majority of the time, it was Alphas who bit first. Omegas who bit first were considered unnatural. Unheard. Just like female Alphas or male Omegas. Not only that, it was considered taboo for Omegas to bite first.

So why the hell did Lee allow you, a normal, boring Omega to bite first?

It puzzled him.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to murder you.

For the first time in his life, he was jealous of his wife.

His wife always got her boy toys, why couldn’t he get his own babydoll for once?

Why not be greedy and have his own turn this time?

He inched closer to you. Scooted over just a bit. It made you stop.

You did not trust Carl.

Not one bit.

No.

Nope.

Nada.

Your eyes were narrowed. From where you were seated in the living room, you could still feel his stare. You were sitting on the couch. The furthest away from the Beta.

Oh no.

You were not going to sit next to him. Sandy, maybe. But Carl?

Absolutely not.

You were not sitting next to that man. That damn Beta smelled like rotten cabbage soup. You’d rather die than sit next to him.

The TV was still playing. Playing something. Maybe a sitcom? You didn’t know. Maybe it was I Love Lucy.

You had never wanted to flee from a room faster in your life. Sandy was with Lee, and you heard some conversation as they had walked through the front door. Because of their shopping trip. Bags full of groceries. You had seen Lee smile at his younger sister and laugh, his tummy shaking. It had made you smile. Having his sister here with his Omega, his Bondmate… it was good for him. Very good. He had been happier than ever.

Your mother was next door. Talking to the neighbors. You suspected she just wanted to play nice.

But you were not going to play nice with this Beta.

No.

Never.

You were not.

You would not be nice to this man. You could fake a smile and pretend to be nice, but the next time you would see him, you were going to grab your shotgun that Lee pretended you didn’t have under your bed and chase him around the house with it.

Just in case.

Although your mood was a bit better, considering tomorrow, you and your mother would be going to visit Lenora and Arvin. You missed them. You hadn’t called them in weeks.

Sandy and Lee were still unpacking the food when you had gotten up stiffly, not even sparing a look towards Carl.

Lee saw you walking into the kitchen.

His smile dropped at the sight of the sour look on your face.

Sandy watched as you grabbed the phone and spun the dial.

Spin. Spin. Spin.

Spin. Spin. Spin.

Putting the phone near your ear, you waited.

There was a shuffling noise on the other line before you heard a familiar voice.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Emma? It’s me.”

“Oh! Hello dear. Arvin’s here, would you like to talk to him?” Emma’s voice trailed off. “Uh-huh,” you were nodding, your voice low, “I’d like to talk to him.”

Him? Who was him?

Lee and Sandy stopped with the groceries.

There was a shuffling noise again and you heard her shout.

“Arvin! Get over here! Someone’s on the phone wantin’ ya!”

Lee froze.

His jaw clenched.

“… Hey! Why haven’t you been callin’ the house? Lenora presented!” came Arvin’s voice from the other line.

You blinked.

Clearly taken aback.

“O-Oh…” More blinking, “Lenora presented? What’d she present as? Omega? Beta?”

Sandy Henderson felt her world stop. Or freeze. Like one of those record scratches on a sitcom before the episode would rewind back to its proper place.

All of a sudden, she remembered Roy Laferty’s words before he died.

Lenora. Her name is Lenora. She’s my daughter.

“… Yeah, but she’s been actin’ real funny lately. Ya think you could talk to her when you and your Ma come to see us?” Arvin’s voice from the other line brought both Sandy and Lee back.

You were nodding.

“I mean, Omega to Omega. I love her and all, she’s my little sister, but I ain’t an Omega, ya know?” Arvin said.

“Mhmmmm… I get it…. Yeah… I’ll talk to her when we get there… uh-huh… I miss you too… uh-huh… yeah… yes… I’m on my best behavior Arvin… no I’m not causin’ no trouble… I ain’t like you and your angry ass… naw… naw… shut up and smoke ya damn square Russell… mhmmm… yeah… got someone that I’d like you to meet one of these days Arvin… he’s my Alpha… love him so much…”

Sandy saw the corners of Lee’s lips curl up into a smile at that.

He was in love.

Her Big Brother was in love. She watched him come from behind you, walking towards you and gently put his hands on your shoulders, gently pushing you back towards him. She could see him bend his head down a little and rub his nose against your gland, making you giggle and squeal. Sandy saw you, watched as a smile came over your face. Your entire face lit up as you looked at your Alpha, who was deeply chuckling at your response.

There was an aching in her heart. Watching you and Lee interact was what she had wanted with Carl. A normal, loving husband. And she had that in the first few years of her marriage. Sandy had almost felt like a princess with her prince charming. Carl had been so charming.

And then the murders started happening.

Sandy had vomited the night before they had driven up to her Big Brother’s house. First, she had taken a shower and cried in it before she had actually vomited, puked her guts out into the toilet.

She had never suspected, nor expected her life to turn out like this.

She had never thought one day that she would be marrying a fucking serial killer.

No. Never.

“… Okay! Okay, yes! Okay. Bye.”

You hung up gleefully. Turning to Lee, you saw him looking so amused.

“Ya gotta stop doin’ that Lee, you’re too distractin’,” you scolded him playfully. Clearly amused, “Oh really?” Your Alpha even had his eyebrow cocked and everything. “Me? Distracting? Never sugar. I’m a good Bondmate. I always give my babydoll the space she needs.” He defended himself playfully. You just rolled your eyes. Looking at your sister-in-law, you spoke.

“Was he always like this growin’ up?” you questioned her. Sandy snorted. “Even worse,” she said solemnly with a nod. Lee just pouted.

“Gangin’ up on me. My little sister and my Omega. I’ll never forgive you two for this.”

Giggles filled the kitchen as you and Sandy snickered.

“What’re you makin’ for lunch?”

Just like that, the entire mood had shifted.

Lee had noticed you had tensed up from where you were in his arms.

Your Omega was alarmed.

Beta.

Smelly Beta is here.

Nasty Beta.

Like the church incident where you had seen the Preacher, you stiffened up. It was like you and your Omega had become one. Like you knew what the other person was thinking. In perfect sync.

Lee made eye contact with Sandy.

And then his gaze came over to his brother-in-law.

Carl was looking at you.

Lee was reminded of those leery looks other Alphas used to give his sister when they used to be young pups. Leery, predatory looks. Almost like his younger sister was something to be eaten.

Like now.

“… Lee and I bought some tomatoes. We might just make tomato soup with grilled cheese.” shrugged Sandy.

Sandy spoke your name.

You blinked.

“Lee was tellin’ me bout that book you were readin’… I haven’t been to the library in a while. You wanna go? After lunch?”

At her suggestion, you slowly nodded. Like you were coming out of a fog.

“Yeah… yeah… sounds great. Gonna go down to the Seven-Eleven, D-Lee, you want your usual?”

You had nearly slipped up.

“Yeah,” Lee said, his eyes still trained on Carl, “Yeah, that sounds good, Omega.”

“Okay.”

He pressed a kiss on the top of your head. His keys clinked together as he slipped the keys to his cruiser into your pocket. Happily humming, you said to Sandy, “Lemme get my heels on. Then we can go. Lee, ya left ya Pepsi cup in the car again… can you bring it inside to wash it?”

Nods came from your Alpha. A happy hum came from you. Maybe even a smile. Mood temporarily raised, you made your way into Lee’s room to grab your shoes.

Lee was now looking at you as you bounced down the hallway, the mere thought of slushies always putting you in a happier mood. Blue eyes continued to watch you and Sandy, watching intensely as the two of you walked to his cruiser. He saw you say something to his sister before rolling your eyes.

It was when he realized why you were rolling your eyes.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Never had Lee spud to you so fast.

You were already rolling your eyes again.

“Lee,” you were saying, “did ya forgot?” You made hand gestures to the cup that was still in the car. The chubby Alpha cursed under his breath and accepted the cup from you. Cup now in his hands. Even knowing that the two of you did indeed have an audience. He couldn’t help himself. His arms went around you, making the familiar scent of your Alpha waft into your nose. It made your Omega sigh in content. And then, and then when he dipped his head down, his tongue licking, pressing down on your gland, scenting you, reminding everyone in this godforsaken county who the hell you belonged to, you melted.

Sandy’s eyes were watering. Due to the intense phenomenons, her Big Brother was giving off. Eventually, Lee lifted his head up. His eyes were dark. That dark, deep, possessive feeling all wedged and shoved down part of him satisfied.

At least for now.

Now, now, he could look down at you. Down at the mating gland that showed his bite.

“I’ll get you your usual. Cherry?”

“Yes.”

A thrill ran down your spine.

“Okay. We’ll be back-”

The sounds of the car opening and closing were heard.

“C’mon!” came Sandy’s shout from the passenger’s seat, “We gotta still come back to make lunch!”

You turned back to look at Lee.

“Go, Omega.” He told you. With one last kiss on the top of your head, you waved at your Alpha before getting into the driver’s seat.

Only after watching you drive off with his sister to the Seven-Eleven did Lee walk back inside, Pepsi cup gripped in his hand.

And when the door closed behind him, it was too late.

Lee Bodecker had been too quick for the brunet Beta man. A pudgy hand came to wrap around Carl's throat, and the man was shoved back. Right up against the wall. His small brown eyes widening in fear.

The first time Carl had met Lee, he had snickered to himself, looking at the Alpha who was his girlfriend’s older brother.

Lee had long made peace with himself, that he didn’t look like every other Alpha he knew. Or had known in his youth.

He knew he had rolls. He knew his tummy stuck out and jiggled. That his face was chubbier and less chiseled than it had been when he was younger. He saw those stretch marks on his stomach, on his thighs that used to be red, but were now faded and looked like lightning bolts etched onto his pale, milky skin.

Lee had given no shits, that everyone probably thought of him as the fat Alpha. His body type did not bother him in the slightest. Nor did it bother you. In fact, whenever the two of you were in his bed together, you had always cuddled up to him. Soft, sweet little murmurs and mumbles about how squishy he felt around you, how he kept you so warm. The way he’d wrap his big, strong arms around you, keeping you feeling so safe and warm. Like a warm blanket.

Carl Henderson did not know this Lee.

Nor was he used to it.

This Lee… his part of his brother-in-law that Lee kept so deeply buried… this piece of darkness which bubbled to the surface.

Carl wasn’t used to his.

Lee’s blue eyes were pure black. He looked almost like he was in a Rut. His scent of chocolate bourbon burned, making Carl have a headache.

The Alpha didn’t even need to try to pick him up.

There was a slamming noise.

“She’s mine.”

Lee’s Alpha was seething.

“You don’t look at her. You don’t talk to her. You don’t sit next to her.”

Carl’s nose was burning. He coughed. His eyes watered.

Lee’s expression on his face looked downright murderous.

“If I see or hear you harmed a fuckin’ hair on her head, I will fuckin' kill you.”

The burning urge to just put a fucking bullet through Carl's head came, rushed through him again.

His mind was completely made up.

Carl needed to die.

Carl was going to die tonight.

Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44, @bxnnywriting

Series taglist: @queensIvy

[fairyaali]

yo.. I saw the request that you posted today? IT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD WHAT THE HELL? and I looked for the prompt and ended up finding it , Can you do a part 2 where the news reporter lady gets akumatized again finds the video that she was looking for? where y/n's crazy mafia father threatens to kill her now abusive ex boyfriend because he cheated on her but she was so blindly loyal and didn't want anybody to find out? like because that would be embarrassing but instead y/n didn't know (1)

HELLO! so I didn’t really understand the request well but i wrote this out and i’m planning on making another part related to this! so here it is! thank you for this request im so happy that you liked the first one.  Speaking of which, if you haven’t read the first one here it is!  Part One

The other part will be posted soon ;)) 

Strawberries, sunshine and Adrien Agreste on a red picnic blanket.

Life is so serene, so perfect at this moment. Especially with the blond resting his head on your lap as you run your fingers through his soft blond locks. He hummed and smiled softly. You noticed his cheeks were tinted red because of the time he spent in the sunshine. He’s gorgeous.

You pick up a strawberry from the plate and pop it in your mouth, the sweet juice bursting and dripping from the corner of your lips. Before you could react you felt a hand move to your face and wipe the substance with the thumb. You look down and see Adrien looking at you, his green eyes glistening and full of life. You couldn’t help but move down and kiss him softly on the lips. It was a slow, tender kiss which you didn’t want to pull away from but you did in order to catch your breath.

“Ma Belle,” Adrien whispers, moving a lock of your hair behind your ear. “How do you feel about coming to a film festival with me tonight?” “Film festival? You need to elaborate on that babe.” You say quirking your eyebrow up. You’ve never been to a film festival before, you didn’t even know what happened there. Fuck, you’ve never even been to a movie theatre before because you basically have a whole private theatre in your house.

He furrows his eyebrows at you and chuckles. “Basically once a year the students organise a film festival on school campus. Students get to show their own short films and projects that they’ve done while we sit on the grass with snacks and drinks. It’s really fun.” He explains.

It really seemed like fun but you end up looking down. You knew that after last time’s event some people still thought of you as a bitch. People still whispered behind your back and they still judged you. Other than that reason, your father was coming home tonight from Madrid and you were going to ask Adrien to come with you to meet him for the first time.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want you come?” He asks you and you look at him, a slight frown on his face. “Alya is going to present her film today and I told her we’d come..” He continues and looks to the side.

“No, no I do !” You say quickly and sigh, “My dad is coming tonight and I was going to ask you to meet him.” You say, averting your eyes to the side.

You feel him stiffen up. “Oh.” He says.

“But I can tell him that we can meet for brunch tomorrow instead.” You say and hold his hand. “I know you’re nervous about meeting him but I just want my two favorite boys to finally meet.” You say and give him a small smile.

 He softly chuckles and grabs your hand, kissing it. “Of course mon ange.”

You giggle and hug him. It made you happy that he was willing to come. He knew it would make you happy.

“What should I wear for the festival? I don’t want to be under-dressed.” You say suddenly pulling away, already thinking about the outfits you want to wear.

“I think I’d worry about you being over dressed instead.” He laughs a little bit and you playfully hit him on the shoulder.

  “Nadja, if you don’t get me any scoop on them by tonight you’re fired.”

“Fired?!” Najda exclaims getting out of her chair. She watches as her boss raises a questioning eyebrow at her and she clears her throat.

“But madam, I can’t-“

“By tonight Nadja.” Her boss urges sternly, causing the red-head to gulp.

She nods slowly and keeps her head down as she walks out of the office.

Rage started eating her up from the inside. She needed to do something. Anything.

  “Hey girl!” Alya closes you in a tight hug and hands you a red solo cup filled with juice which was already spiked with some type of liquor.

“Hey Alya.” You smile at her and give each other a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Are you nervous?” You ask her.

“No..” She scoffs and suddenly downs her drink, laughing nervously. “Okay maybe just a little bit.” She says quietly and it causes you to laugh.

“I’m sure that your film is amazing.” You reassure her.

“Thank you.” She says warmly. She looks you up and down. “You always love dressing up dont you?” She raises an eyebrow at you.

“I told her that it’s going to be causal.” Adrien sighs and you roll your eyes playfully.

“This is as casual as I can get.” You state and arrange the beret on your head, smiling proudly.

 The two laugh and you feel Adrien kiss your cheek and sliding his arm around your shoulder.

“Marinette and Nino saved you guys a place up front, I’ll be joining you guys a little later.” She explains and nods over to where Marinette and Nino were sitting. You see them waving at you guys.

“Okay we’ll see you later then.” Adrien says and you both start walking away from her.

There they were, the whispers, the eyes all on you as you walk past the people. Adrien felt it too, you knew he did, that’s why his grip on you was tighter but it was also somewhat comforting.

“Allô!” Marinette says and giggles while she hugs you both. You could tell that she’s already had a few too many to drink You all sit down and start talking about what’s going to happen tonight, what films are expected to show and what you thought Alyas film is going to consist of.

You sip your drink slowly. This shit was strong but you didn’t mind it.

“Alya’s film is going to be the best.” Nino says proudly and confidently. “She’s been working super hard on it non-stop.”

You smiled at him. The way he talked about her with his adoring eyes - you could just tell that what they had was real. It reminded you of You and Adrien. Maybe you two weren’t there yet but the way he looks at you was the same.

“Luka’s coming later because he got held up at his gig.” Marinette groans and sprawls herself out on the blanket, her phone resting on her chest.

“are you and Luka getting serious?” Adrien asks, grinning at her.

She hums and nods. “I really like him.”

“I’m happy for you Marinette, you guys look really cute together.” You say and she sits up quickly.

“You think?” She asks, batting her eyelashes at you. You nod, grinning. “yay!” She exclaims and hugs you unexpectedly.

“Okay I think that Mari has had enough of this.” Nino says and takes away her drink, chuckling.

The atmosphere was amazing. People drinking, laughing and chatting all around you guys.

  Everything died down when the screen in front of you turned on and everyone started cheering.

Alya quickly joined you guys and you all greeted her again quietly as you clapped for opening of the first film.

It was a love story between an alien and a human which formed because of their mutual love of French toast. Weird ass story-line but it was beautifully filmed for some reason. You could tell it was amateur but the shots and the beauty of the movie as the human and the alien shared their first bite of French toast really immersed you into it.

“those berries look so good im going to bust a nut.” You hear Nino whisper and Alya hushes him, earning a snicker from Adrien.

“I wish someone would eat me like that French toast.” Marinette blurts out and you clasp a hand over your mouth trying not to laugh.

As the film showed the ending credits the creator got up from where he was sitting and everyone cheered, whistled and clapped for him.

“Isn’t it Alyas turn now?” Adrien asks and Alya nodded taking a deep breath in.

Nino squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek. “Everyone’s going to love it babe.”

Everyone got quiet as it started.

Two people were sitting on the roof,

“It’s the end of the world isn’t it?” the character says and before the other person could respond, the screen went pitch black.

Everyone started whispering to each other in confusion and you looked over at Alya as she furrowed her eyebrows.

The screen turned on again but it was a different setting.

Two men were now sitting at a large table, one with a cigar between his lips and the other in front of him. Both of them were wearing a suit.

“Mother fucker.” The man says as he lights his cigar.

“What the fuck? This isn’t what I filmed.” You heard Alya whisper.

You were confused as to what was happening but you were too focused on the film in front of you. The man with the cigar came into view even more. He looked famillar.

“You can’t kill him.” The other man says.

“he cheated on her, Johnny!” the guy with the cigar shouts and hits his hand on the table.

Wait. Holy shit, that was your dad.

“He cheated on her and she still went back to him.” He blows out smoke and looks to the side. Disgust evident on his face. “I thought I raised her better than that, I guess she’s stupid just like her mother.”

A picture of you on his desk was shown in view.

You were visibly shaking, your mouth dry. You heard people around you ask you questions but you couldn’t hear anything. You couldn’t even react.

Your father pulls out a gun and clicks it. “I’m killing that bastard tonight, pay off a few people to make it seem like a car accident and we’re going to Paris. Just her and me. I’ve got too many problems with my junkie wife and I don’t want an ignorant daughter too.”

Tears stream down your face. It wasn’t a car accident. Your father killed him. That’s how Trevor died. Trevor cheated on you with one of your best friends back In New York but you never left him because you never wanted people to find out that someone cheated on you, you had too much pride for that.

You get up from where you were sitting and run away, ignoring the murmurs of people and gasps as the film continued. You felt like you were going to throw up, you felt like everything around you has been all a big fat lie. You heard Adrien call out your name but you kept running away until you froze when you heard a familiar evil laugh.

You turn around and see the villain from last time again. but this time it she was holding your father In her arms while he’s passed out.

“Finally! I got it!”

People started to scream and you simply fell down to your knees. Too weak to move. Too weak to do anything.

Your heart was shattered.

Flashbacks come back to you at Trevors funeral. You were sobbing as you watched them bringing out his casket. Little did you know that your own father was the reason for his death.

You were broken.

[thefanficmonster]

Darkest Of Nights

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How to Get Away With Murder)

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Vomiting, Swearing, Spoilers for Season 1 of How To Get Away With Murder

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationship

Summary: On the night of Sam’s murder, it’s safe to say everyone is traumatized, looking for comfort and solace. However, one of them gets the complete opposite: Michaela is only offered more pain and trauma, bringing her to the brink of insanity.

Requested by 🐢 Anon, but also meant as a birthday present for an Anon who recently reached out to me. Happy birthday dear Anon! Hope you have the best one yet! Here’s the fic you requested - I hope it lives up to your expectations! It’s been such an honor to be the person to write you a birthday present and I can only hope I’ve done my job well! Love, Vy ❤

She’s still in utter shock and disbelief. She’s shaking like a leaf as she navigates the roads back to her apartment. It pains her that she’ll have to pass by the Keating house again tonight, knowing what happened there just hours ago. She squeezes the jacket tighter around herself, glad to not see any familiar - or rather any faces at all. The bonfire has gathered every college student, graduate and fan of the sport around itself, giving the streets an emptiness Michaela hasn’t seen before.

Michaela Pratt has always liked planning out her life, having her future laid out in front of her always at her disposal for changing and modifying. She’s always seen herself a successful, envied lawyer in the future, someone other lawyers fear and all wrong-doers want. Because who doesn’t want freedom? She’d pride herself on being the one to bring them that freedom. She’d pride herself on owning a title like Annalise’s - a bitch, a beast and a boss in the courtroom.

However, just like she had everything laid out in front of her eyes, she’s watching it all fall apart. Fall into that very bonfire her and her classmates went to take pictures at to own their alibis. To save themselves from possible suspicion. To paint the picture that they aren’t murderers.

That realization will never soften its blow to her chest and stomach. Every time she repeats the word ‘murderer’ in her mind, her heart skips a bit and her stomach turns, threatening to make her release everything in it onto the pavement she’s walking on. She feels disgusting and dirty, not only because of the ash and mud she has all over herself following the venture into the woods where they dismembered Sam’s body, but because she took part in it. She may have stood aside, crippled by shock, disbelief and disgust, but she’s now a part of it nonetheless.

With her heart and mind racing faster than she’s able to comprehend, she finds herself unable to turn that corner and get onto the street which the Keating house is on. She feels that if she sees that place she might just faint right there on the street and if that doesn’t raise a few questions, nothing will. Instinctively, she continues ahead, heading down the street that will inevitably lead her to where the mob of drunk or half-drunk people are surrounding a huge fire, celebrating something Michaela is less than disinterested in. She feels it’d make for an extra alibi in case the pictures they posted aren’t enough proof of their faux innocence. 

Michaela squints her eyes at the brightness of the fire nearby, sensing both a cough and a sickening feeling climbing up her throat. There are reporter trucks everywhere, ones she sees as the perfect hiding barriers to prevent her from being seen by anyone in case that sickening feeling morphs into an urge to throw up. She quickens her pace, eager to find herself in the safe space between two of the reporter trucks and attempt to calm her heart that’s threatening to beat out of her chest. She’s still visible to anyone walking along the street, but as it was established earlier, the street’s vacant and it seems it’ll remain that way for a little longer so she feels almost invisible and tiny in comparison to the two truck that serve the purpose of her protectors in this very moment.

Placing a hand on the wall of the truck, she doubles over, preparing for the inevitable when she hears a whistle from somewhere close by. Or, more specifically, directly behind her.

“What a view baby!“ A drunken slur of a male voice follows that whistle, causing her to straighten up and turn on her heel as fast as possible. “Is that how women ask to get some nowadays?”

Her stomach’s now in knots and she can’t find her voice to say anything. She’s frozen with fear of the man’s silhouette that’s now approaching her. His features aren’t visible in the dark so even if she did know him - which she’s sure she doesn’t - she wouldn’t be able to recognize him. Not that it matters, recognizing him or not, this man’s intentions are more than clear and more than threatening.

“Silence means yes in my book, babe. So...why don’t we have some fun?“ Before she can even register his proximity, he’s grabbed her wrists and pushed her against one of the trucks. The disgusting fucker holds her wrists at either side of her head, firmly holding them there, ridding her of any chance of escape.

The events she’s had to go through have already weakened her enough but even with that put to the side she’s no match for this guy - he’s a lot stronger and bigger in size. He’s basically towering over her like a predator looming over its prey, toying with it before going in for the kill. And when he does, when she feels his lips on her neck, that’s the final straw.

The need to relieve her insides finally takes over and she starts gagging, causing the son of a bitch to pull away and let go of her. And then she throws up, all over him, earning her the perfect distraction that will buy her enough time to get the fuck out of there. Despite the shaking of her legs and her still-turning stomach, Michaela takes off running, feeling sweat drops forming and running down her forehead. She can hear the cursing of that gross fucker behind her, but luckily she doesn’t take notice of another pair of running footsteps, suggesting she isn’t being followed. Even with this knowledge, she doesn’t stop running. Her brain understands she’s somewhat safe but her heart is racing, her heartbeat echoing in her ears warning her that there’s danger all around. So, she keeps running until she’s less then two blocks away from her apartment complex. 

Her adrenaline levels refuse to lower but her legs have basically turned into jelly and she can’t find it in her to even keep walking, let alone running.  She collapses, a mess of tears, sobbing and fear on the sidewalk. It’s too much. All too much and all too soon and all out of nowhere. She feels violated, vulnerable, unsafe. She feels both fragile and like she’s already been broken into shards. She feels alone and worst part is, she feels like she deserves it. She sees what happened between those two truck as a punishment for having participated in a murder and the gruesome disposal of a dead body.

Michaela Pratt always knew karma would catch up to her, she just never expected it’d be this cruel. 

She got taught the hard way that in the darkest of nights, the most evil of demons attack.

                                                                *  *  *

Connor Walsh is known to be laid back and nonchalant to the point of irritative. However, right now, he’s anything but.

He’s anxious, he’s nervous, he’s still under shock and in mild panic mode. He’s restless, pacing the living room of the Keating home while running his hands through his hair, desperately trying to ignore and push away the memories of the events that took place in this very room less than twenty four hours ago. 

“Where the hell is she?!!“ He takes a portion of his anger out on the wooden coffee table with a punch that will for sure bruise his knuckles. His eyes skim over the two other accomplices who have never looked so out of it: dead, bloodshot eyes carrying a thousand yard stare, neither of them reacting to his rage nor sharing it with him. “How the fuck are you so calm?! How can you just sit there and-!“

“Cause there’s nothing we can do!“ Wes suddenly snaps, “You heard Annalise - she called in, saying she wouldn’t be able to make it. So what, you want us to exhibit even more suspicious behavior by thrashing and yelling all over the place?“

“No, no, no. She had said she couldn’t make it because she had something to take care of. That ‘something’ could be reporting us, how do you not understand that?!“ Connor lashes out again, his fists only tightening this time, not finding a victim to take their hits.

“Michaela wouldn’t do that, she’s not stupid. It’ll immediately tie her to it too. She’ll go to jail like the rest of us.“ Laurel says, much calmer than the two men in the room though it probably has to do with the lack of energy due to the lack of sleep.

“You never know what’s going on in the brain of that selfish woman!“ He mutters, suddenly getting up and grabbing his phone. He storms out into the hallway, already dialing Michaela’s number.

With the device pressed tightly against his ear, the dial tone piercing his head like a screech straight from hell, he runs a frustrated hand over his pale as a sheet face, squeezing his eyes shut. The call eventually goes to voicemail, but that doesn’t stop Connor Walsh. He keeps trying, each attempt falling through, each call getting sent to voicemail after about five rings. Each time his anger boiling hotter.

“The hell do you want?! Can’t you catch a hint?!“ His seventh attempt is proven successful when a familiar female voices answers from the other line.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Princess. Am I bothering you? My most sincere apologies! I just wanted to know if you feel like ratting us out to the police, but if I’m calling at an inconvenient time, please forgive me.“ He sneers, his sanity restraints breaking one by one under the pressure of frustration, fear and the anxiety attack that’s been building in his chest all day today.

“Listen here, Walsh.“ Michaela hisses threateningly, though Conner doesn’t fail to pick up on the fact that there’s something off about her voice. He doesn’t dwell on that, too over-occupied with his worries of future jail time to care. “I’m not in the mood for your selfishness or for dealing with any of what happened last night so save your shit-talking for a more decent time. And as for the ratting part, I ain’t that kind of scum, though karma will catch up to each and every one of you. Just like...“ her voice suddenly cracks, the words sounding more like a sob than a threat, “Just like it caught up to me last night.“ That sentence is spoken through a cry, which is the last thing Connor was expecting to hear from the woman he deemed so high and mighty and so full of herself she can’t see the world around her nor how she’s affecting it with her selfish decisions.

That last sentence of hers is what the call ends on and what anchors itself in his head. Connor’s left standing in the hallway with a sickening feeling in his stomach that wasn’t there before and a little voice telling him that something is very wrong with Michaela. Her words were all her trademark, expected and explainable phrases but her tone, and that final statement were odd and far too out of place for him to just brush off. That last line she spoke felt like the most sincere and vulnerable thing she’s ever said to him. To anyone, really. There was no show, no tough act in those words. It was nothing but the confession of a broken girl who’s never felt like her life isn’t her own until now.

With that alarm ringing throughout his head and no good explanation, instead of turning and heading into the living room like he originally intended to, Connor storms out the front door of the home with fast and determined steps, heading for the destination he never thought he’d go to.

                                                              *  *  *

Having ordered food twenty minutes prior, Michaela doesn’t find the doorbell sounding throughout her apartment to be weird or unwelcome despite the fact it made her jump and shudder in her seat. With the comfort of the tiny pepper spray bottle in the back pocket of her jeans, she makes her way to the front door, resting one hand on the handle before pushing up on her toes to check through the peephole that the person she’s expecting is indeed the one who’s on the other side.

Her stomach drops and frustration rises through the roof when the peephole reveals the familiar, somewhat distressed face of Connor Walsh.

“GO AWAY!“ She yells turning and placing her back against the door, now not at all willing to open it.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on with you!“ She hears his voice coming from beyond the door, sounding strangely honest and deeply concerned.

“Why do you care anyway?! I already told you I won’t rat you out, you’ve got nothing to worry about!“ The lack of hostility in her voice seems to encourage Connor to speak a bit more freely.

“Come on, Shooting Star. Students who kill and dispose of bodies together share problems together.“ He says sarcastically but with true gentility behind his words.

That hint of honesty and a bit of harmless humor is what makes her slowly inch her hand toward the doorknob once again. After briefly hesitating, she pulls the door open, not at all bothered by the fact her rival is seeing her the most unpresentable she ever remembers being: hair a mess, homey clothes she can’t even recall the age of, no make-up, eye bags - the whole pack.

“Don’t like a Princess or a Shooting Star, do I?“ She attempts the same amount of humor he used but coming from her it sounds rather dead and flat, not that it’s not to be expected after everything she went through.

“You look like someone who has seen and been through some shit.“ He says truthfully, still standing in the hallway, unwilling to go inside until she gives him the green light for fear she might suddenly snap at him. “And I’m not only talking about what happened with Sam.“

Michaela’s eyes gloss over with tears immediately, mentally cursing herself for being so obvious. In order to avoid eye-contact, she steps aside to allow him inside.

“Thank you.“ He mutters as he makes his way past her and down the hall, arrogantly comfortable in the new surroundings.

By the time Michaela has started regretting her decision of letting him in, she realizes it’s already too late so she shuts and relocks the door before following after him in the living room where she finds him already situated in the armchair like it’s his 100th time visiting. Hell, like he owns the place.

She takes the seat on the couch closest to him, not bothering to offer him any hospitality in the form of drinks and snacks. Such offer feels ridiculous under these circumstances.  Speaking of ridiculous, the circumstances themselves are ridiculous - her biggest rival, and now one of her partners in crime is chilling in her living room with a smug look on his face.

“Karma’s gonna catch up to me, huh?“ He suddenly speaks up, reminding her yet again of how bad of an idea inviting him in was. “Yours caught up to you, you say. Though to me it seems like it beat and battered you too.“

Michaela’s never been a crier. In fact, she’s guilty of silently judging people she’s witnessed crying, thinking of them as weak and spineless. But here she is, fighting back tears at the memories she’d much rather forget.

“It did, but it had the opposite effect. I’m glad we ridded this world of a piece of scum like him. One less man who feels entitled to everything. Who feel free to take anything he wants anytime.“ Her throat feels dry as her eyes fill with tears despite her best attempts at holding them back, “Take a girl’s virginity, take her dignity, her safety, her life, take everything away from her. And all that when she’s most vulnerable and scared and helpless and...“

Her words come to an abrupt halt when she finds Connor has repositioned himself and is now sitting next to her on the couch, has turned to face her and has placed a reluctant hand on her shoulder, “Michaela, what happened to you?”

That’s when she breaks down for the fifth time today. Since that breakdown on the sidewalk on her way home, she’s found it infinitely harder to hold her tears back, keep her emotions at bay. So, instead of easting her energy holding back, she’s been wasting it sobbing into the comforter she had wrapped around herself like a safety cocoon until Connor rang the doorbell.

Instinctively more than intentionally, Connor wraps his arm around her shoulders as she tries to get a few words out in-between sobs, “This guy....h-he t-tried to....” she can’t even finish the sentence without the entire scene playing out in front of her eyes, causing her stomach to tighten and her sobs to grow louder. “But, I-I got away in time. But Connor, what if I d-didn’t? Oh God, what would’ve happened to me if I didn’t?”

“It’s ok, you’re ok now. You’re safe.“ He murmurs, pulling her closer until her head’s resting on his shoulder, “You’re ok. And don’t you ever think of it as karma, you hear me? You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that. That was in no way your fault or your punishment. That guy’s gonna meet his punishment if I ever lay my eyes on him though, that’s for sure.“

“I-I didn’t see his face, i-it was too dark.“ She manages to say through the subsided sobbing that has now reduced to crying with the occasional sniffle. “I just heard his voice.” Despite having calmed down, she surprisingly doesn’t feel the need to pull away from Connor, create some distance between them. She doesn’t even dwell on how out of character this is for the both of them, nor does she dwell on the slightly off-putting thought that she’s actually glad to have him by her side. To have someone comforting and reassuring her that what happened is not a result of her own bad actions. That thought haunted her all night, preventing her from even thinking about falling asleep.

“Well, if you ever recognize his voice anywhere, you know you have three experienced killers and dismemberers you can contact to, you know, do the job.“ He says comfortingly, his tone light but still serious.

She can’t help but scoff, “One kill and you’re suddenly hitmen?”

Connor chuckles, “When someone messes with one of our own, we sure as hell are.”

That sentence feels like a bandage on one of Michaela’s many invisible wounds. That one of our own line fills that hole her loneliness drilled into her last night on that sidewalk when she felt so lost and alone and broken. When she felt she had no one to turn to and no one to seek comfort in. 

Among the many things she saw, heard and learned, the most valuable lesson these past twenty four hours have taught Michaela is that after the darkest of nights still comes morning. A bright morning, a new beginning and a helping hand with it. A helping hand, a safe embrace and comforting words. Bonus lesson is that one can never guess where, or rather from who those three elements will be given. These two are a crystal clear example: never did Michaela think she’d find a helping hand, safe embrace and comforting words coming from Connor Walsh. But here they are.

It may be odd and it may be temporary, but she’s not complaining, he doesn’t appear to be doing so either.

[cockbiteproductions]

just another person Going Through It with hashtag ryangate lol f

i was going through jeremy’s twitter likes because someone said he liked friend of mine’s tweet about feeling bad for fiona in this situation and i wanted to see it myself. and then i scrolled down and in the older likes was a tweet from ryan qrting the rt account from like october 1st and he had attached a video of him. and the date just struck me as so fucking recent. this was less than a week ago. less than a week ago everything was fine and he was acting like he hadn’t done any of this shit and business was carrying on as normal. and i just viscerally had to close the tab and get up and go outside on a walk.

and i just hate this i hate how deeply ryan was embedded in rt and ah and how many years of memories are tainted now. just a few hours ago i was like oh well maybe ill go watch [an ah video] to make myself feel better but then i remembered i can’t. like even if he wasn’t in it i couldn’t, it all just feels dirty now. i don’t want to in a year from now open up an old ah video and then immediately have to close it because ryan was in it. like going back to old old ah videos and seeing ray in it is a pleasant surprise but seeing ryan would just be. like almost every time i type his name i have to pause and physically shudder. it just fucking sucks. i hate that years of positive memories are now fucked up because of him. god how hard is it to not cheat on your wife with fans.

and i keep going back and forth on being able to laugh about this. like joking to lighten with the fuckery of it all and being glad that he has been exposed for the creepy and cheating fucker he is. like i keep remembering this one tweet i saw that was like “lol rip to everyone who bought a ryan body pillow” and it’s fucking hilarious and i laugh every time i think about it. but then 2 seconds later i remember those people legitimately looked up to him and found him to be a source of comfort. and how fucked up i would be if My Favorites were exposed for something like this and then it just isn’t funny anymore. and it wasn’t like i didn’t like ryan like he was a solid member in the ah cast and i very much liked him in videos and i already feel like shit because of this. so ill see people making jokes about this and laugh momentarily and then think to myself ok stop being fucking rude this isn’t funny stop making jokes about this. even though i was laughing myself a second ago.

but also i feel like just the tiniest smidgen of sympathy for him in having his nudes leaked like. fuck. if that happened to me i would be mortified. and people are making jokes about it and how he looks and it just doesn’t sit right with me like i know he did a terrible thing but god those were still personal and he didn’t deserve nudes of him leaked. like i guess some people could argue it’s retribution for what he did but i’ve never been one for revenge except in the most extreme cases and i know this is bad it’s so bad i understand what he did was terrible i even answered an ask explaining why but this isn’t one of those Most Extreme cases im willing to say that he deserves this.

and also in the comments of that ryan situation video from tessa i kept seeing things that were like “i have no sympathy for you. you knew what you were doing. you knew he had a wife and kids.” and. i understand what kind of point you are trying to make here but truly i don’t think they understand the power parasocial relationships can hold over people. they are your favorite person. you would do practically anything to feel close to them. and especially at that young age. like not to discount the critical thinking skills of a seventeen year old because i mean i was seventeen once and i had a brain but with the idol worship/stan culture and not fully developed brain you cannot possibly think that what she did was entirely of her own. i dont know the word im going for here. i guess of her own volition. that’s not very right but i can’t think of another word right now. like to a small small degree she is culpable for what she did there but not NEARLY anywhere in the ballpark of what ryan did. ryan, in his 30s at the time, married with children, should have absolutely known better and not been recipient &| solicit sex from his fans. they’re just nowhere near the same ballpark of blame in this.

and as for ryan’s tweet like. “i made mistakes.” yeah bro you sure fucking did. mistakes is the weakest word for it i can think of. god again just how fucking hard is it to not cheat on your wife. but the “please stop harassing and threatening my family” like holy shit i am livid that people are doing this. they are the victims of this and people are going after them????? what is wrong with people. everything about this is disgusting.

since i guess i’m just ranting about everything about this right now also in relation to ah’s tweet on monday about cancelling the stream, the quote rts were so fucking wild. like you had people defending ryan and saying that even if the rumors were true, they would continue to stand by him. and then on the other hand people were calling ah cowards for having replies turned off and saying it was classic rt, avoiding the problem. like the news broke literally that previous night. an account is posting actual pornographic material in the replies of tweets about ryan. in what fucking world would they have replies to that tweet on. no way should a social media manager have to deal with that. and it’s been less than a fucking day you can’t say they’re fucking avoiding the problem when you haven’t given them time to actually come up with anything. i’m surprised ryan “resigned” as soon as he did. all of you have 0 fucking brain cells and no sense of nuance and i fucking hate it here.

oh and i keep thinking about how he was the voice for a villain this season of rvb and now i wonder if they’re going to get someone to redo the voice.

also i guess if you continue to post ryan content ill probably unfollow you like i get having a comfort person/character i really do and i get that the vagabond or whatever is almost an entirely separate concept from ryan at this point but i personally cannot handle seeing him on my dash anymore so nothing against you but i don’t want to see it.

[naivesilver]

@bewilderedmoth​ FINE. Fine. Since today is a Monday and therefore a day much more suited for a vitriolic commentary on terrible insects, I shall fulfill your request and the anon’s. I’m warning everyone in the premises, though -  this is a “no fucks given” list, so it may get ugly at any time. Also, as usual, this is only for things that I’ve already watched, so if you know of some cricket horror and don’t see it mentioned, assume I’ve yet to get to that specific adaptation.

Alright then! To the barricades!

1) Disney’s Pinocchio (1940)

The first of his genre. Look at this asshole - he’s literally the last creature I’d entrust my child to. The fact Pinocchio had to spend his first couple days of life with this guy shadowing his every step is mind-boggling, and it’s made even worse by the fact that the Blue Fairy put him in charge of another man’s kid, as though she had the right to make that choice.

(I won’t fall for the desire of dunking on the Fairy more, as this is a Cricket list, but believe me, the temptation is there. It always is.)

As Disney sidekicks go, he’s one of the worst. He’s not funny, and despite having literally ONE job he manages to fail spectacularly at it. He’s snappish at Pinocchio, he abandons his charge about two hours into the new day, he spends a much longer time flirting with female-presenting inanimate objects/animals/supernatural beings than doing any actual childrearing. He should have been forgotten the instant the movie left the theaters, but instead Disney made him one of his main mascots, giving him the role of storyteller or ghost or whatever the fuck they need him to do at the time. So not only is he single-handedly responsible for every other entry in this list, I keep finding him everywhere I turn my eyes to. A knock-off version of his Ghost of Christmas Past self was in the new Ducktales, too, so my friend freenklin (who already has had to endure many of my complaints) received some VERY disappointed scream-texts as I was liveblogging my watch.

Just...no. Get him out of my sight.

(Also Ewan McGregor is bound to voice him in the live action and like??? Excuse me??? Are we supposed to not make Obi Wan jokes??? Will he abandon his young padawan Pinocchio to the evil Strombolitroopers???)

2) Pinocchio and the Emperor of the Night (1987)

This movie is at the bottom of my Pinocchio adaptation ranking, and boy, does it deserve the dishonor. The story is a weird mixture of adaptation and sequel, approximately a tenth of the characters actually appear in the book, and I can’t forgive them for ruining what could have been the coolest concept ever (Pinocchio as a pawn in a fight of good vs evil) into this disgrace of a cartoon.

As for the Cricket, in this case he’s not even a cricket. He’s a glowworm, and he’s a goddamn puppet too, to whom the Fairy gave life. I wonder, is the entirety of her job just...transforming people’s creations into sentient beings so that they can lead others to a honest life? Tell me, ma’am, do you want to breathe life into my disappointing Powerpoint presentations too, so that they might bully me into graduating?

Anyway, if you’re wondering what purpose Gee Willikers (sigh) serves, the answer is NONE. Pinocchio gets rid of him at least twice (good for him) and as easily as drinking a glass of water, he’s a burden to the (admittedly cooler) additional characters, like the aviator bee, and not only is he ugly as fuck, but also so annoying every time he gets a chance to speak that it’s a miracle he wasn’t cut out in post-production.

In short, disgusting. If he entered my home I’d swat him with a flycatcher until he leaves.

3) Pinocchio (2009)

This is essentially Disney’s Jiminy Cricket, but female, anthropomorphic, and with a passion for books instead of pretty ladies or ladies-adjacent objects. Mind you, a sapphic Cricket would perhaps have saved more than one adaptation, this one included, but I’m glad they skipped that part altogether. This miniseries has enough issues as it is.

I’m sorry, she’s just too annoying. Luciana Littizzetto can be funny, but in small doses, otherwise her jokes start to become repetitive. Two hours straight - and yes, it’s that much, because SOMEONE decided to follow Disney’s footsteps a little too well - are too long even for the strongest of hearts. Plus, none of the characters’ costumes are very flattering, accurate or well-made (except for Lampwick 💖), but hers just might take the cake. It looks like a mixture between a teenager’s first attempt at steampunk fashion and a Mardi Gras costume lifted from the discarded items’ bin at a cheap store. Takes you out of the fantasy more than anything else.

4) Roberto Benigni’s Pinocchio (2002)

I’ve talked at length of the weirdness of this movie, but all in all it’s a pretty accurate transposition of the story, from the dialogue to the scenery.

Except for him.

The Cricket in this case does appear in the scenes belonging to him, but ALSO in a long and extremely useless sequence where he tries to find Pinocchio in the Land of Toys and gets kicked around by literally everyone present. Don’t get me wrong, that’s something I would have liked to do as well, but it was totally unnecessary, and it gave nothing to the overall story. This movie still holds the record as the most expensive Italian movie ever made, so wouldn’t it have been better for everybody to  skip that part entirely? Not only it would have saved them some money, but also it would have saved me from seeing this guy for an additional fifteen minutes on my screen.

Still, pretty tame compared to some of the others. Could have been worse.

5) Once Upon A Time (2011)

I debated long and hard before making this choice, and I’m not putting him in with a light heart, but before you come at me with pitchforks, please listen.

I like Archie, okay! He’s a fun character, the human side of his backstory was great and gave him a lot of depth and inner turmoil, and the concept of Jiminy Cricket being a therapist is amazing and hilarious. But he’s kind of a shit therapist, whose actions aren’t always what you’d expect from someone who’s supposed to be a conscience and a guide. And despite the show giving us the impression that he and Pinocchio had the same adventures as in the Disney movie (which doesn’t exactly endear him to me - if it wasn’t for his later character development he’d already be Lil Nas X-ing his way down to the bottom of my list), he and August never interacted on screen after the First Curse broke. Not once. And if there’s someone who needs therapy and support, that’s August Wayne Booth.

Yes, I did say at some point that I’d like to fix this in a fic. I’ll write it when I don’t have like eight projects on my table at the same time.

Finally, two scenes settled the matter for me: one, him pontificating at Snow about her trying to do everything on her own, without even pretending to help her set up the stroller she was struggling with at that very moment. I work with kids every day, I know exactly what she’s going through. Shut your mouth and open the damn stroller, Archie.

And two...That one fucking scene where he’s jumping out of Snow White’s cleavage. Honestly, what the fuck??? I wouldn’t even have remembered it if Libby hadn’t reminded me, so I suppose my brain tried to remove the traumatic memory before it caused any further damage, but it exists, and I’m still wondering why. What exactly was the deal with the writers, when they made that choice? I want a glass of what they were having, because by God, does it sound like a trip-inducing cocktail.

Aaaand we’re done! Remember, this is all part of my personal opinion, and I’m not to be taken seriously even on the best of days. Plus, my favorite cricket-esque character, aside from the book-accurate ones, is Gina from Piccolino no Bouken, who is a duck, a sassy little bastard and no closer to Collodi’s canon than any of these fuckers. So yes, when it comes to choices dictated by the heart, I am an hypocrite. Au revoir!

[altairattorney]

In response to your little rant about Homura's depiction in Rebellion, here's this.

"The end of Rebellion is... controversial, but let's unpack what happened here. What occurred?

Well, firstly, Homura was traumatized and tortured; the Homura at the end of Rebellion is not the Homura of PMAS; she's gone through trauma and loss that PMAS!Homura can't even conceive of. She literally turned into a fucking witch because Kyubey gaslit her into thinking she made up Madoka Kaname, according to Wraith Arc.

Then, during this process, she learns two important facts that fucks her worldview: 1) Madoka didn't want to leave her loved ones and give up her normal life if she had any other alternative, and 2) Kyubey is trying to destroy the Law of Cycles (that is, Madoka Kaname), and has figured out a means of stopping her from interacting with Magical Girls under controlled lab conditions, meaning they could eventually succeed in their objective.

That means if Homura let herself go into the Law of Cycles, she would be unable to protect Madoka, and the Incubators would eventually destroy her. Madoka will have been erased and forgotten with nothing to show for it. Homura could only cope with everything with the promise of being reunited with her and the solace that Madoka's sacrifice was worth it, and Kyubey took that away from her.

And, more importantly: Homura's wish had yet to come true. Homura's wish wasn't to be with Madoka, or to save the world. It was to protect Madoka. To be the one to protect her.

To put it in other terms, Homura was self-loathing to the point of suicide-ideation because she was worthless, good for nothing, a burden on everyone. That she should just die. Madoka saw worth in her, and tried to change that, but Madoka died.

Only one person in her entire life ever told Homura she was happy to have met her and this wonderful, kind, happy, heroic, courageous, beautiful, miracle of a person who walked into her life to tell her those words died.

DIED. FOR. HER.

Died to protect her. Died so that a worthless piece of SHIT like herself could live. Someone who had EVERYTHING in the world died with a smile to protect someone who didn't even want to. Not without her.

Not instead of her.

She was good for nothing before and now her mere existence caused the best person she'd ever known to die. She ruined Madoka's entire life by having been a part of it.

She has to fix it. She has the chance to.

She wishes, wishes, WISHES to go back, to unfuck this, to undo this, to be cool like Madoka said she could have been. To protect her. To be her shield. To be WORTH something because she protected something valuble. To pay her back for all her kindness like she'd never been able to do and finally, finally in her life, have done something that justifies everything else.

She didn't wish for Madoka to live. She didn't wish for her to be saved. She wished to be the one to save her so she could support her and reinvent herself as someone who isn't a garbage shit person.

And every single time, she fails.

No matter what she does. No matter how she compromises herself. No matter what disgusting sins she does (and she never crosses so many lines that she says she WOULD cross). Madoka keeps dying.

And most of those times. She dies for Homura. She dies, again, for Homura. She dies again and again and again and again in order to help Homura.

Until the very last time, she wishes to save Homura (and everyone else), so much that she never existed at all.

Dammit. Dammit. DAMMIT. DAMMIT. This is worse this is WORSE THIS IS WORRRRSE!

But she still tries to cope. Madoka's in heaven. She's saving everyone. Madoka had a smile. The world is BETTER, and she'll see her again.

Until the above happened. And Kyubey is going to destroy Madoka Kaname. She won't have ever been born and she won't even be saving Magical Girls. She'll truly be nothing.

Because she came to save Homura, fucking AGAIN.

And all this time she still never saved her. Never ONCE saved her. Not a single time has she ever, ever, EVER fucking saved her. Not ever, has she ever saved her, not even when Madoka made her final fucking wish.

Homura made a wish that never came true. So she never stopped being Good for Nothing. She has never made up for Madoka's kindness. She has never, emotionally, left that moment where she sobbed over Madoka's dead corpse in the water and the rain. And she's done that so many fucking times.

So that's her mindset. So when she saw the chance. She took it. If you can interact with Madoka, you can effect Madoka. So.

God dammit. Fucking for once. Fucking finally. This time, her last chance she'll EVER HAVE... she will save her.

Save Madoka Kaname. Not a vague concept. Not a hero. Not a law or a god. Not a cosmic idea. Madoka. KANAME. The person who smiled at her and said she was cool. The person who helped her buy a cellphone. The kind, wonderful person who loved and named a stray cat and pressed her face to hers and laughed and congratulated her for her accomplishments. The person who said that meeting Homura was her happiest memory.

Why can't this person, of all people, be happy? All Madoka Kaname wanted was to live her fucking life. With her family. With her friends and classmates. Living her day to day life which wasn't anything special but it was so special to her.

She WILL save her. Goddammit, she failed so many times because she always kept holding herself back but if this is her last chance then GODDAMMIT fuck it all, damn herself too.

She never cared, really, about being with Madoka. She was willing to die for her. She explicitly had plans to leave the town to Kyouko after Walpurgisnacht and LEAVE (probably to kill herself so her Witch didn't come for Madoka). She was going to die for her in Rebellion so that she'd be safe from the Incubators.

If she could save her, if she can finally succeed and protect that human smile living her human life, it's fine if Homura Akemi isn't a part of it. If Madoka can smile, she doesn't have to smile at her anymore. That's PERFECTLY FINE.

So she did it. She stole a piece of the Law of Cycles. Not a big piece. Not the Law, or the Power, or the Salvation. The Law of Cycles still functions in some sense, because there's still no Witches, there's still Wraiths, there's still Angels.

She stole "Madoka Kaname", the human being that the Goddess used to be. She stole her, yes. She took over the universe, yes. But what did she do?

She made it so Madoka Kaname existed, again. Reunited with everyone she cared about. She gave Kyouko, Mami, Sayaka, and everyone else the happiest lives she could give them without undoing their pasts (disrespecting their agency and core selves), even if it was only to keep Madoka happy in her silver garden.

She tortures Kyubey but no one's crying tears over that fucker. She seems to be letting the world run its course as naturally as possible, save for suppressing people's memories of what's really going on.

Sayaka, alive. Nagisa, alive. Living with Kyouko and Mami respectively. Madoka, alive.

Hell, the only change she made that we know of to Madoka's memories is three years in America.

Because, canonically, English is Madoka's worst subject.

And now, she's great at it.

No matter what it takes. Madoka Kaname will be happy. She deserves it. And Homura will make that happen, even if she, herself, never is.

But yeah go off about how Homura is a yandere stalker who likes to kill people."

Hey there! I thank you for your post and your insight, and I wanted to clarify that I don't disagree at all with this view of Rebellion and how it ended. I think it is all correct, actually. The problem I have with it is 1. Rebellion existing at all, and 2. the way they portrayed her choice as an act of evil conceived by a demon.

To begin with, there are a few details that I don't think really make sense considering how pmmm worked. Homura shouldn't even be a witch, first of all. Secondly, even though she cannot know for sure, I don't think Homura would have willingly told Kyubey about the world of before if there were any danger. Heck, I don't even understand how Kyubey could possibly have stolen Madoka, now that she is not an entity but a literal concept, a rule of the universe. Imo that is beyond absurd. Third, I am doubtful Homura would have gone against Madoka's wish, even though I totally understand why she did in the context of Rebellion.

The problem I have with Homura is that people thought about her as a yandere emotionless stalker who has an unhealthy obsession with Madoka even before Rebellion existed. That was a popular sentiment, and the big, big problem I have with this film is that while what she did isn't inherently bad or wrong - as you explained - the movie paints her as a LITERAL DEMON in the moment she makes that choice, and ALSO at the exact same time she declares her love canonically. That is so fucked up in so so so many ways. As not literal it may be, they gave her that creepy smile, and show that Madoka is confused in her new bubble and feels like she is someone else but can't remember why. And Homura brushes it off. As wonderful as it is that she is there, Madoka is uncomfortable, Sayaka is obviously enraged and Homura plays the part of the Evil Character.

This is just all so unfair and so wrong. It doesn't only negate the way this anime ended - and of course Homura deserved to go with peace and quiet like everyone else. No magical girl has to ever suffer like that again, including Madoka, right? (There were so many ways to reunite her with Madoka, but no.) It also visibly paints Homura as being on the dark side, and validates the horrific lens people saw her character through even before the film. It canonizes her as a lesbian in the same moment she is doing something clearly framed as wrong, and, on a surface level, reinforces her obsession. This is just a textbook predatory lesbian trope. I am sorry if you don't see it the same way, but it is just horrific to me.

I will never agree with Rebellion existing. I cannot stand the ending of this anime being undone and Homura being punched in the face and further tortured both in universe and as a character, after all the crap she went through. It is just disrespectful.

And as I said, she deserved better.

[lumiolivier]

The Good Old Days Chapter Thirteen:  Checking In on a Friend

A/N:  We, as a society, have evolved past the need for April Fools jokes.  Everything I tell you today is 100% genuine.  I pinky promise.  Even with my other pinky and my pinky toes.  But if you get near my pinky toes, I might stab a bitch.  Anyway, so!  For the sake of streamlining everything all nice and neat like, the Good Old Days is moving!  To Thursdays!  Why?  Because it’s when I post For the Family anyway.  Yay!  Branding!  Anyway, here.  Have this chapter, you nerds.  Love you x

ICYMI: Chapter Twelve:  What Happened to Your Face? 

Wow…The Scarlotti estate looks a lot different in the daylight.  And when I’m not here with Vanessa and Veronica.  And Veronica’s drooling on herself because of…I didn’t even catch the guy’s name.  Oh, well. He knows better now.  At least I think he does.  I sure as hell hope he does for his sake.  If he doesn’t, he knows where we are.  He can come back to the Narrows for round two.  As long as he doesn’t fuck with Veronica again.  But something tells me it’s not often a cab shows up to the front doors of this place.  I would’ve taken the Old Man’s town car, but this was something I needed to do.  He didn’t need to get involved.  

 When I walked up to the front door, I got nauseous. Was it the memories from last night coming back to haunt me?  No.  I mean, it could have been, but I doubt it. It’s the gut feeling that I knew I didn’t belong here.  This was beyond me.  This was high-class beyond high-class.  This was somewhere that the toilet seats could be eaten off of.  Where if I walked in the front door out of nowhere, I’d be mistaken as the house staff instantly.  Not that I’m knocking the house staff.  It’s helped keep a roof over our heads for the last however many years Mama’s been doing it.  I had no room to talk shit.  But at the same time, I knew damn well I didn’t belong here.

 Well…Here goes nothing.

 I grabbed the solid bronze knocker on the door and smacked it against the door a few times.  Granted, the house had a doorbell, but if Veronica was taking a nap, she didn’t need that going through her head.  Some Alfred Pennyworth looking mother fucker answered the door.  Please have an accent.  If you don’t, I’ll be so horribly disappointed in Saturday morning cartoons for lying to me.  I knew I had one, but I needed one that was more pronounced than mine.  

 “Can I…” the butler looked me over in disgust. Surprise, surprise.  I’m just happy he had an incredibly uppity British accent.  Thanks, Saturday morning cartoons.  I knew you’d never let me down, “Can I help you, sir?  Whatever it is you’re selling, I can assure you that the Scarlotti family is not interested.”

 “I’m not selling anything.” I told him, “I’m looking for Veronica.”

 “Oh,” Alfred held his composure.  Like a screen door in a hurricane, but he hung in there, “Mistress Veronica isn’t feeling well this morning.”

 “Please,” I wasn’t one to normally beg, but given the circumstances, pride went out the window, “I just want to make sure she’s doing ok.”

 “She will be,” he kept a tight lip, “Please see yourself…”

 “Frankie?” There was a welcomed voice.  There was something I needed to hear.

 “Hi, Vanessa,” I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I wanted to.  What can I say?  She’s got me hooked.

 “As I was saying,” Alfred (if that even is his real name.  I didn’t care enough to ask.), “Mistress Veronica isn’t feeling…”

 “He’s ok,” Vanessa brushed him off, letting me inside.  Oh, I like her.  She knows what she wants.  And it just so happens to be me, “What are you doing here?”

 “I came to check in on Veronica,” I took her hand, “How’s she feeling?”

 “She’s better,” she reported, “Considering how bad she was last night.  But she’ll be ok.”

 “That’s good,” I let out a quiet sigh of relief, “Do you think I could see her?”

 “Of course,” Vanessa got a little misty eyed. I don’t think she was expecting to see me today, let alone at her own front door.

 “But Mistress Vanessa…” I’m really starting to hate her butler, “Mistress Veronica shouldn’t be having visitors today. She’s not well.”

 “He’s ok,” Vanessa vouched for me, “He’s a friend. He’s ok.  Don’t worry.  I’ll go take him upstairs myself.”

 “Yes, Mistress,” he gave her a quick bow and let us go.

 “Sorry about that,” she led me up the stairs. It’s weird walking up these stairs and not having Veronica nearly asleep in my arms.  This was better.  This was definitely better, “Mr. Pearson is kind of overbearing.  He always has been since I was little.  As Veronica and Violet came along, he’s only gotten worse.”

 “Must be rough,” I teased her a bit.

 “It’s its own kind of hell,” Vanessa shrugged, “But I suppose it’s better than having no one care.”

 “Way to be the optimist, Vanessa,” I applauded, “That’s the spirit.”

 “Shut up,” she giggled, “I know.  I don’t mean to sound pretentious.  It comes with the territory.  And it makes my mother proud.”

 “I didn’t say anything.”

 “You didn’t have to,” she went up to Veronica’s door.  Was it this covered in neon paint when we were here last night?  I don’t remember it.  Then again, I had more on my plate that night.  Gently, Vanessa knocked on the door, cracking it a little, “Veronica? You awake, sweetie?”

 “Yeah,” Veronica’s voice sounded strained and tired, but it’s better than not hearing it at all, “I’m awake.  What’s up?”

 “You got a visitor,” Vanessa smiled, “Is that ok?”

 “Who the hell is coming to see me?” Veronica wondered.

 I stuck my head in the door, “Hi, Veronica.”

 “Twitchy!” Veronica didn’t even hesitate.  She jumped out of bed, throwing her arms around my neck, “Bad idea, but fuck it.”

 “Why bad idea?” I worried.

 “Because I may need to go throw up…” Veronica gagged a couple times, “Nope…Hold on.”

 Sure as shit, she took off toward the bathroom and made noises that should not come out of a human being, yet they came out of Veronica.  Poor kid. She didn’t deserve last night. Asshole didn’t deserve her attention. I didn’t want to put Vanessa through that phone call.  But it happened.  It’s not like we can go back and change it.  It’s not like I could’ve done something to keep Veronica from puking her brains out today.  At least she’s in high spirits.  

 “You feel better?” I hoped.

 “Yeah,” Veronica ran some Gatorade through her mouth and spat it down the sink, “I’ll be fine.  It’s been like this all morning.  The butlers think I’m sick.”

 “You were poisoned last night, Veronica,” I reminded her, “That’s definitely a kind of sick.”

 “No, no, no,” Veronica crawled back into her bed, “They think I got the flu or some shit like that.”

 “Yeah,” Vanessa winced, “We know better than to trust the butlers.  They’re fucking narcs.”

 “The butlers,” Veronica rolled her eyes, “The maids. Violet, if we’re not careful.”

 “You’re not wrong,” Vanessa sat at the edge of the bed.

 “That’s what you vented to me for, right?” I figured, sitting on the other side.

 “Yeah…” Vanessa’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink. Oh, shit, she’s cute.

 “Really?” Veronica smirked, turning her attention toward her sister, “You’ve already spilled your guts to this guy, Ness? Shit must be getting serious already.”

 “I never said that,” Vanessa glared a hole through me.  And I think I might have fucked up a little here, “By the way, Frankie, have you met my little sister Veronica?  She’s an asshole and likes to poke her nose in my relationships.”

 “So, keep her away from my brothers,” I figured, “Got it.”

 “I told him what you said about him the night you met, too,” Veronica grinned.

 “Dammit, Veronica!” Vanessa snapped, “I tell you certain things in confidence!”

 “Don’t be mean to me,” Veronica whined, “I’m sick.”

 “No,” Vanessa’s anger only got worse, “I told you last night before you went out, don’t go out alone.  Stay out of the clubs for the night.  At least wait until my philosophy class is over.  But you didn’t listen.  Now that you’re awake and coherent, I can get pissed at you.”

 “Hold on, Vanessa,” I wasn’t sure if it was my place to step in here, but I had a feeling I needed to or it was going to turn to bloodshed, “I’m not exactly agreeing with the whole, be nice to her because she’s sick, thing, but how was she supposed to know some asshole would score in the Bronx just to drop it in her drink?  She didn’t ask for that.  She just wanted to go dance and have a good time, right, Veronica?”

 “Right,” Veronica looked at me strange, “How do you know where he got his shit from?”

 “Let’s just say,” I pulled Veronica into my side, “Everything was taken care of last night.  And everything’s going to be ok.”

 “What do you mean?” Veronica looked up at me, getting a better view of what happened last night.

 “It was taken care of,” I repeated.

 “Frankie…” Vanessa got nervous, “What happened last night? After you left here, where did you go?”

 “Can I speak to you privately for a second?” I put Veronica down in her bed and tucked her back in.  I pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her head and whispered in her ear, “Trust me.  Everything’s going to be ok.  He got what he deserved.”

“Thank you, Frankie,” Veronica’s voice broke. She knew.  That’s all that mattered.  Now, to take on Vanessa.

 She and I stepped outside Veronica’s room and she dragged me down to the room next door.  This one wasn’t quite as colorful as Veronica’s.  More polished, less punk rock.  Vanessa sat me down on the bed, my hands in hers, “Frankie, we’ve been honest with each other since the first night we met.  I’d like it to stay that way.  Where were you last night after you left here?  And don’t say you went straight home because your face does not say you went straight home.”

 “You really want to know?” I was hoping to keep Vanessa out of the…business end of my life.

 “Please.”

 “I found the guy that drugged Veronica,” I came clean, “I brought him to the Narrows in Brooklyn and I beat the fuck out of him.  Look, I wasn’t going to let him get away with what he did.  That just went against my own moral code.  She didn’t need that last night.  You didn’t need to get that phone call.  I just…I couldn’t.  I’m just happy the Old Man let me take care of him instead of someone else.  And I get why you’d be mad at me.  We probably should’ve just turned him in, let it process through the system, and…”

 “Frankie,” Vanessa cut me off, throwing herself into my shoulder.  My still…Relatively sore…shoulder, “Why would you ever think for a second that I’d be mad at you for that?  For taking care of something that probably would’ve sat for months in the system?  No.  We didn’t have that kind of time.  Nobody deserves to go through what Veronica did. If you were looking to score brownie points with me, that would’ve been the best way.  Granted, I’m a little pissed, but mostly because you could’ve gotten hurt.  You did get hurt.”

 “Yeah…” I winced, “Just a little, though.  I’ve gotten into worse scraps than that.  He just happened to get lucky and get a couple good swings on him.  Not to be that cliché, but you really should see the other guy.  He got his ass handed to him.  But yeah.  He kind of fucked my face up, but it’ll heal.”

 “It will,” she kissed my cheek, “It’s still a cute face, though.”

 “Mama said the same thing,” I chuckled a bit. Then, I remembered the promise I made to Mama.  I wasn’t promising results, but it’d be worth a shot, “Speaking of Mama…She kind of wants to meet you.”

 “How does she know about me?” Vanessa wondered.

 “César sold me out,” I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, “And she wanted to know why I would’ve thrown myself into that kind of fire for just some random girl I met in a club on a run for the Old Man…And I had to explain who Veronica was.  So…Needless to say, she kind of wants to meet you both, but I get it if you don’t want to yet.”

 “Quit preparing yourself for no,” she smiled, “I’d be happy to meet her.  Veronica, on the other hand, is staying home for a while.  Her ass is grounded.”

 “You have that kind of power?”

 “It’s not like anyone else uses it,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, “Someone has to actually raise the children here.”

 “Isn’t that what your parents are supposed to do?” I asked.

 “Mom’s always busy,” she explained, “Dad’s her lapdog. Their marriage is practically a sham. It’s sad.  So, one of us had to step up.  Why not me?  They have no clue about Veronica going out the way she does.  They don’t know about Violet throwing up at the sight of one of her report cards because god forbid she was a disappointment.  They don’t know about half the shit that’s gone on with us.  But that’s ok.  I understand. She has a company and a legacy on her shoulders.”

 “Oh, Vanessa,” I threw my arms around her, “Mama’s going to love you.  I promise.”

 “She’s never met me,” Vanessa thought, “How can you be so sure?”

 “Just…Trust me.” Anyone who knew Mama knew she was a sucker for those abandoned.  And she can smell it from a mile away.  It’s her superpower.  It’s almost scary.  And I have a feeling these two are going to get on like a house fire.

 “So,” she curled into me, “Tonight?  Is that ok for you?”

 “Tonight?” I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon. Mama might be pissed.  She didn’t have time to prepare anything.  But we could manage.  I had no doubt in my mind.

 “I think we should go out tonight,” Vanessa went on, “I mean…It’d be a good way for me to say thank you for last night. I don’t think I could’ve gotten through that without you, Frankie.  Really, I don’t.  I mean, it wasn’t the first time I’ve dealt with Veronica like that, but…Fuck, that shit gets hard after a while.”

 “Shh…” I comforted her in the best way I could, “It’s over with.  She’s alright.  We just saw her.”

 “She’s never been roofied before,” her voice broke. Oh, yeah.  Mama’s going to eat you alive, “She’s had a few hits of E that went sideways and I’ve had to take care of her through bad trips, but…Roofies are new.”

 “And the asshole that did it bled on the floor of a warehouse in the Narrows last night,” I kissed her forehead, “Hopefully, it’ll be the last we hear of him.”

 Vanessa pulled herself together.  Just a little, “Eight o’clock.”

 “Eight o’clock,” I nodded, “I’ll see you tonight. Ok?”

 “Ok.” I put her down on the bed, but she grabbed the bottom of my shirt, “Where are you going?”

 “I need to get home,” I took her hand, “Don’t get me wrong, Vanessa.  I’d love to stick around just a little while longer…”

 “Then, do it,” she begged, “Don’t go yet.”

 “I mean…” I thought it over.  This might be a longshot and/or a disaster, but it’s worth a try, right?  God, I hope so, “Unless you wanted to come with me.”

 “Someone needs to watch Veronica,” Vanessa winced, “But…Eight o’clock.”

 “Promise,” I gave her one little kiss, “I’ll see you tonight.”

 “That’s the plan.” I got a smile out of her. That’s all I could ask for. Before I left, I peeked my head in Veronica’s bedroom.  Sleeping like a baby.  Good…Take care of yourself, kid.  

 Now, I had to lower the boom on Mama that I was bringing Vanessa home tonight.  And an entire cab ride back to Brooklyn to think about it.  It could go one of two ways.  Either I’m going to get beaten within an inch of my life with her shoe or she’s going to be ecstatic.  Fingers crossed for the second one.

[cravingmarvel]

Apartment - Epilogue

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Fem!Reader Warnings: Swearing, a little angst, sarcasm as always Summary:  You just moved from Germany to New York, working as an editor at a newspaper. So what happens when you find out your favourite actor lives in the apartment across from yours? And how will people react when you share your story on your Blog dedicated to him? What will you make of this situation? A/N: Wow here we are... the last of the last... I can’t believe that after 2 YEARS I managed to finish this series completely... I apologize for the time it took, but I just had no idea how to write it and in retrospect.. I’m glad I waited this long. A HUGE thank you to @buckisthatyou​ for helping me with this!!! I love you!!! 

Anyway... I hope you guys love this as much as I loved writing this and I’ll see you at the end of the chapter :)

MASTERLIST

Apartment – Epilogue

I carried the last of my boxes up the stairs, weighted down a little by the contents of it. This one got lost on its way here and I’ve been desperately trying not to cry over it. It’s been almost three months since Sebastian and I moved in together, but this little fucker had to get lost.

As I pushed the door open with my shoulder the light that flooded into the room filled me with butterflies. Just seeing the living room full of life and personality put the biggest smile on my face. I placed the box next to the bookshelf and started to unpack the books inside. I moved some of the cacti out of the way, they are definitely taking over the place.

I felt a hand on my hip and jumped slightly.

“Hey, how’s it coming along?” I turned to see Sebastian.

“Very nicely, but I do think we need to calm down about the cacti.” I pouted and he kissed my cheek.

“Hm, maybe.” I caught the cheeky smile as he walked away.

The move was easy, finding an apartment wasn’t. We came across a beautiful, two-story apartment in the heart of Manhattan that was pretty close to my new workplace. After my move back to New York, we went straight to looking for a place to share. He said he wanted it to be right in the heart of the city, but close enough to central park so our future kids could enjoy some greenery.

I laughed at him, but the thought still filled me with butterflies.  I was excited to share my life with him, even if that came with a price. Some people just didn’t like seeing him with me on his arm and they made a point in showing it. Just a few weeks after I came back, we made an appearance at some award show, the photos I was tagged in on Instagram were mostly nice, but a lot weren’t so. My dress was too tight, my hair done terribly, and I felt worse because I made those choices. It was me to blame.

Despite the weight I felt from those comments, I knew I could step away from it whenever I pleased. I don’t have to put up with it. No one does.

With the shelve decorated to my liking, the apartment was almost finished, there were a few pictures that I wanted to hang on the walls, but that could wait.

 Two Years Later

 “We’re having spaghetti tonight.” Sebastian called from the kitchen; he knew I’d love it. (The spaghetti, not him calling from the kitchen.)

The chill of the night falling over New York put me in the mood to get comfy. I climbed up the stairs to our shared bedroom, crossing the room to the closet. I decided to change into my pyjamas, a decision I did not regret as I felt the soft fabric on my skin. I investigated the mirror to admire my husky onesie. I look cosy as fuck and I feel cosy as fuck.

The table hasn’t been set when I came down to the dining room and Sebastian noticed my confusion. “We’re having dinner outside if you don’t mind.” He filled to plates with food and gave me a quick kiss as he walked towards the balcony. I followed him out to discover the table beautifully set with flowers and fairy lights.

“Oh wow. This is so fancy.” I said while sitting down opposite Sebastian.

“Thank you, I actually put a lot of effort into this. By the way, cute outfit.” I looked down to the fluffiness that I was wearing and in the reflection of the glass next to me, I could see how weird I looked. “Yeah thanks.”

The husky and the Prince.

We soon devoured our food and just sat and laughed while drinking an alarming amount of wine. New York has never looked so pretty; this might just be because Sebastian is the foreground of the scenery in front of me.

Suddenly, Sebastian stood up from his seat. His face lit up with a smile on his face as he slowly went down on one knee. I was just about to register what was happening, my jaw slightly dropping.

“Y/n.” Sebastian held my hand in his, a red velvet box in the other. “I never knew this day would come so soon. I always thought I’d be fifty years old, still looking for the woman who I’m going to marry. And then you came along. Standing at my door with your ridiculous robe.”

I chucked, tears swelling up in my eyes.

“So, will you, Y/n, do me the honour and marry me?”

I stared at him, the tears now rolling down my face. “Yes.” I breathed out.

He slipped the ring on my finger, a diamond reflecting a million rainbows in the light of the sunset, hovering on the horizon of New York. And it dawned on me.

I just got engaged to Sebastian Stan, and I’m wearing a husky onesie.

 -

 Sebastian decided it would be good for me and his sanity to hire a wedding planner, even though I told him I could handle it on my own. I hate having someone else step on my toes and interfere with my plans but listened to him anyway and hired someone who could help me organize the day and everything around it.

While I still had a whole month to prepare the final details, I was sure we covered everything necessary that involved the venue, decorations, dress and every other detail I could think of.

I shuffled my shoes from my feet and walked over to the kitchen making myself a nice cup of coffee. I got a text from Sebastian telling me that he’ll be home by eleven, filming dragged on until then unfortunately, but it gave me some quiet time to get back to going through my planner trying to catch any mistakes I made.

I’ve never really been one to dream of the perfect wedding, but since starting this project of mine, I felt my need for perfectionism take over.

I grabbed the little folder, my laptop and my phone walking to the couch. I snuggled into a blanket, putting my mug on the coffee table. After a few hours of flipping through pages and finding no mistakes at all, which was usually the case, I grabbed my phone, my thumb hovering over the Tumblr icon. I hesitantly tapped it logging into my account.

A thing I occasionally did was search my own name. I know I shouldn’t, but something vile within me couldn’t stay away from the opinions of others, strangers, online. I scrolled through endless amounts of posts about myself, cringing and cry laughing at some of the posts. The memes were the best part about it, some people were just too funny. I came across some fanfiction about me… yes fanfiction… about me, skimming over the words. They weren’t bad… it was just a little strange reading it myself, but who am I to judge? I wrote fanfiction about the same man I am engaged to once a few moons ago. Ok more like a year ago, but my point still stands. I can’t judge.

But all fun had to come to an end when I stumbled upon posts about me that just weren’t so nice to look at. Some poking fun at my body, the way it looked in a certain outfit I wore while I was out with Sebastian, some straight up telling me how old I looked and some saying that I’m just not the right fit for him. I couldn’t say they hurt, but a little part of me, the very insecure one, believed them. But something I haven’t come across yet popped up right after all that was a post about me being a fan.

I was slightly intrigued, pondering in my head whether I wanted to read it or not. I could shut my phone off right now, I could step away from this and breathe, but something pulled me in, sucked me right in.

I couldn’t say the post was disgusting nor was it far away from the truth the further I read. The person articulating themselves very well. My stomach turned and twisted.

-I’m just asking myself how she fell in love with Sebastian? How can she know for sure that what she feels for him is actually love? If I got together with him, I would ask myself this. Even if it hurts, I would still question my feelings towards him. Is it actually love, or just the fan inside writing its own fanfiction? And let’s take this even further, they’re getting married… what if she realizes that after all, what she was feeling wasn’t love, it was just the fangirl inside, fulfilling her own fanfiction?-

What if… I’m not in love, but rather satisfying the fangirl within me.

 -

 I awoke to the soft morning light peeking through the white thin curtains, a weight on my middle pulling me closer to the body laying next to me. Sebastian laid on his stomach, his arm draped over my back, his hand gripping my waist as he exhaled deeply. He was in a deep slumber, but still keeping me at his side which made it impossible to move away from him.

I worked hard on removing his arm from my body to climb off of the bed, looking back at Sebastian as he shifted in the bed, rolling over to his back. I walked over to the bathroom connected to the bedroom to proceed my morning routine. I took off my baggy shirt and underwear, stepping into the shower to wash off the sweat of the night. Sebastian surely knows how to keep me up to a time where I should be sleeping.

I felt my muscles relax under the warm water, my hands gently massaging my body with fruit scented soap.

I left the shower, wrapping a towel around me, to turn my attention to my skincare routine, washing my face, putting on my serum and moisturizing my face. The door opened to Sebastian walking in, hugging me from behind, kissing my shoulder.

“Good morning, love.” He said, sleep sill in his voice. Sebastian stepped into the shower and I changed back into the comfortable shirt.

I made breakfast for the both of us before I had to get to work, Sebastian had a day off and I envied him for it.

We ate breakfast and I headed to work, but not before Sebastian pulled me into his arms, kissing me passionately. He took my left hand admiring the diamond ring on my finger. “I love you.” He said and I was out the door.

I arrived at work, dropping my bag on the desk, since the summer holidays were on their way, so are the people wanting to get away with their children and spouses alike. I turned my computer on preparing myself for the eight hours of recommending hotels, flights and things to do at their destination.

My boss, Linda, walked up to me an apologetic look on her face. I braced myself for what’s to come.

“Good morning, Y/n.” She sat down in front of my desk, a sandwich on a plate on her lap.

“Morning. What’s on the menu for today? Anything special?”

Linda laughed, dropping her head. “Y/n, I have to ask a favour. I know your wedding and honeymoon are on their way, but there was an incident. By the way, how’s the planning and your husband to be?”

“Good… good, I have everything set, nothing seems to be missing but a couple thousand dollars in Sebastian’s wallet.” Linda found this one funnier, throwing her head back, almost dropping her sandwich on the floor. “What’s the incident?”

“You know how Beck has a habit of finding ways to destroy her leg?”

I nodded, calling back to the many times Beck has had issues in keeping her leg in one piece. Not that she’s breaking it, rather bruising the shit out of it.” “Yeah, I do.”

“Well she done did it again.” We laughed in union. It became an inside joke by now. “I need you to fly to London for three weeks to inspect and review this hotel right in the heart of the city. It’s under a new owner and quite a few things have changed, I could ask Annie, but she’ll need to find someone to watch her kid. Don’t worry, you’ll be back in time for your wedding, which by the way, I can’t wait for. I already have my dress!”

I stared at her for a second. A trip to London was the last thing I thought I’d be doing right now, especially with the wedding just four weeks away. I pondered and the idea jumped around in my head. It would be kind of nice, getting out of the city, get my head in the game. Maybe think about my intentions of marrying Sebastian… try to find out if the fangirl inside is responsibe or not.

“Ok, sure, why not.” I smiled, Linda clapping her hands together, her Sandwich threatening to fall once again.

 -

 I arrived at home, taking my shoes off along with my coat. Linda gave me a folder with all the necessary information about the trip and all the points I needed to check out.

The only person that I now needed to confront was Sebastian.

I walked into the living room, seeing him sprawled across the couch, wrapped in a blanket. “Hey, babe.” I said while approaching him. I sat down and laid his head on my lap. I leaned down, kissing his lips tenderly.

“How was work?” He asked, closing his eyes.

“Good. Y’know, a lot of people preparing for the summer.” I pondered for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Seb? I need to tell you something.”

He sat up immediately, his eyes looking onto mine desperately. He took my hands into his. I knew he was worried.

“I- I accepted a job to go to London for three weeks, to inspect a hotel, I know this is very close to our wedding date, but Linda said I was the only choice next to Annie, and she would have to look for someone to take care of her child.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow. First thing.”

Sebastian exhaled deeply, looking away from me. “Feels like running to me.”

“Sebastian…” I squeezed his hands in mine. “I’m not running, nor and I going to stand you up at the altar, I just… have to figure some stuff out.

“So, you are running? What’s there to figure out?” “Did I propose too soon, should we postpone the wedding?”

It was me this time, exhaling, looking away from him. “I’m not sure if the feelings I have for you are my own or just an imagination from the fan I was- still am!” I looked at Sebastian, pleading for him to understand. “I don’t want to leave on bad terms or move the wedding to another day. I just have to figure out if I’m going to hurt you.”  

His gaze finally met mine and I knew. I knew he didn’t understand the way I hoped he would.

“Y/n, I know that you love me and There’s nothing that changes that whether you were or still are a fan of me, I don’t give a shit. But if this is what you need to steer your mind into the right direction and lay your worries to rest, then do it.” Sebastian leaned in, kissing me softly. “I’ll be waiting for you, no matter what.”

Tears threated to fall down my cheeks, I didn’t know if this would resolve the storm within me, but I knew this was good, for both me and Sebastian.

We went to bed, holding each other tightly, tangled between the sheets, his hands on my body feverishly roaming every inch.

 -

 I packed my suitcase with my necessities, suddenly dreading my departure. I got a text telling me that my ride to the airport was downstairs.

As I stood at the door, Sebastian pulled me into a tight hug, whispering in my ear over and over how much he loves me and misses me already. I looked up to him cupping his cheeks with my hands pulling him down for a passionate kiss.

“I love you, Sebastian.” I couldn’t cry right now, but I’m sure he knew I wanted to.

He kissed the back of my left hand, his gaze lingering on the ring. “Come back and marry me, Y/n. I want to be your husband more than I wanted to be anything else.”

“I will.”

“I love you, Y/n.”

With that, I was out of the door, into the elevator. Mentally preparing myself.

 London, here I come!

-

A/N pt.2: YES!! THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL TO THIS MASTERPIECE!! I have thought about it, consulted with @buckisthatyou​ about it and have come to the conclusion that I need to write it. And because we all want to know what it’s called:

House. It will be called house and no one can stop me.

Anyway, since I already wrote a Thank You post I will keep it short and sweet. 

Thank you all for waiting for me to write this. If i had written it earlier, I probably would've not come up with a sequel. So everything has a purpose... right?

Thank you for reading and I will see you in

House!

[mistersshelby]

the woman assassin | part seven

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN

wow it has been a Minute, i’m really sorry for the wait, i’ve had the craziest writing block but i decided with the new year i’m going to try and write everyday even if it’s just a little bit and it has REALLY helped with my block and i’ve realized that i have a problem with like when things get hard just kinda stopping writing and seeing it as a sign that my writing is bad but i don’t think that’s the case i think i just need to start forcing myself to work through the blocks. but anyway, here’s part seven, pls let me know what u think!! i love hearing from you guys!! and thank u for all the sweet messages while i’ve been away

p.s. i’m starting to cross post on wattpad to widen my audience so if you have wattpad account and want to give it some love over there that u can follow this link! i only have the first chapter up there right now but i’m gonna update it to post the remaining six so that it’s caught up

“Tommy.” Polly says sharply as everyone files out of the family meeting. Clara turns to look back, but after a pointed look from Tommy, she too, files out. “Are you sure about this?” Polly asks as the door swings shut behind Clara.

“Polly, I don’t need you questioning me as well--”

“Lizzie’s concern is purely out of jealousy and we all know that, as is Michael’s.” Polly cut in, “I just worry that you’re allowing some silly attraction cloud your judgement, you remember when Grace betrayed you--”

“Please, don’t.” Tommy ground out.

Polly paused, “I know you loved her and I was sad to see what became of her, but I don’t want you to make the same mistake--”

“This is not that, Pol. I assure you, there is nothing between Clara and I beyond fucking, alright?” Tommy snapped. Part of him knew he was lying. He didn’t think he was in love with Clara, but it was pretty clear to him now that there was something more between them than just physicality. But he lied, conscious of the fact that he would not have done half the things he’d done and risked for Clara for anyone else.

“You should marry Lizzie.” Polly said after a moment.

“I won’t have this discussion again--”

“It doesn’t have to be for love, Tommy, she’s the mother of your child, it’s the right thing--”

“She will be miserable with me. I don’t love her, nor will I ever.”

“But she loves you.”

“Well she should bloody well get over that then. I’ve provided for her and Ruby well enough, there is nothing more between us.”

Polly watched him for a moment before turning her back on him, “You’re making a hell of a lot of mistakes lately, Thomas. You should try listening to your family for once.”

***

Tommy cocked the gun, aiming for Adrian who was strangling Clara. He could hear her gasping for breath. But when Adrian turned around to face Tommy, it wasn’t Adrian at all, but Lizzie who was crushing Clara’s windpipe. A smooth smirk on her face.

Before he could react, Tommy was pulled out of his dream. Taking in his surroundings, it took a few moments to realize he was in Clara’s bed and she was the one who was waking from a nightmare, which had pulled him out of his own dream.

“Clara,” He lightly touched her shoulder, not wanting to startle her.

She bolted up in bed anyway, her chest heaving, clawing at her chest as if to give the oxygen a clearer path.

“It’s okay, it’s alright, it’s just me,” Tommy said calmly when she realized there was someone next to her and reached for the gun under her pillow.

She dropped the gun, still breathing hard, and then the tears began to flow. Tommy was unsure at first if she even wanted him to comfort her, he knew when he woke up from his dreams he felt deeply humiliated if there was someone else in the room. So hesitantly, he reached out to hold her and she fell into his arms quite easily. As if they had done this several times before. So he pressed his cheek to her hair and rubbed her back, repeated soothing words in her ear, but her breathing did not slow.

“It’s raining,” He murmured, “Let’s go outside.”

“W-What?” She managed, pulling away from him.

“The water and the rhythm of the rain will calm you, I do it all the time.” It took a bit of coaxing, but he got her out of bed, they both dressed and then tiptoed down the stairs of her apartment out into the street. Clara stood, her face up to the sky, and let herself be drenched. She thought of nothing but the rain, the sound of it bouncing on the road and the windows above.

Tommy watched her, as slowly, her mouth turned upwards into a grin, and then she started laughing. She looked beautiful out in the rain. It was hard for him to remember that she was an assassin as she laughed like a child as the water drenched her. Clara turned to see him watching her and then walked into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He was a bit thrown off by the intimate gesture, but eventually wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his head on hers. Her warmth filled him and he felt at peace for the first time since Grace died.

***

Clara’s hands shook only slightly as she loaded the revolver, stuffing extra bullets in her boots.

“The boys will be waiting for you at the perimeter like you asked. If you are not in and out safely within twenty minutes, I’ve ordered them to go after you.”

She turns to see Tommy, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he buttoned his shirt. He had been staying with Clara nearly every night the last few days, but neither of them spoke about what it meant. She turned away to hide the warmth that entered her face at the sight of his chest and tattoos that peaked beneath his shirt.

“I told you, I don’t need babysitters.”

“And I told you that I’m in charge and I won’t have your life recklessly endangered.”

Clara turned back to him, “Who stops you from recklessly endangering your life, eh?”

He smirks, but his eyes remain cold, “When you’ve lost everything good in your life there’s nothing left to endanger.” Tommy turns to leave before she can respond, “Don’t fuck this up.” Is his parting request before he slams the door behind him.

She stares after him for a few moments before shoving more knives in her boots and heading out herself, trying to calm her nerves.

***

The truth was, Clara was afraid to face her family. She hadn’t killed anyone since before Adrian and the way she froze up in front of him, nearly allowing him to kill her, still haunted her nightmares. What if she froze again? There were three of them and only one of her. 

“You don’t come in unless I signal you.” She told Tommy’s men while they stood outside the building.

“Tommy said--”

“This is my mission. I’m going in there to kill my family. You don’t come in unless I say you do.” She reiterated, “Understood?”

They all smirked at her and chuckled, “We mean no offense lady, but Tommy pays us, not you.”

Clara smirks back before quickly grabbing one of their arms, twisting and forcing her knee up into his crotch hard before pulling a knife to his neck. It all happens in a few seconds, the other two boys stare aghast, not even thinking to pull their weapons, “How about this then,” Clara says, still pushing the knife against the boy’s throat, “I see any of you fuckers in that house before I signal it I will shoot you point blank. Do we understand each other now?”

They all nodded quickly and she released him, adrenaline flooding her veins, she felt her confidence return to her. She was still capable of killing, she knew as she held that boy that one flick of her wrist would end him and it had filled her with seductive power. She could do this.

She walked away from the boys, leaving them staring after her as she sauntered into Alfie’s, trying to blend in with the crowd. There were few women there though, so Clara abandoned her plan of socializing until she found her cousins and instead began to blend into the shadows. She took note of the high ceilings, the rafters above them. She quickly snuck out of the large room to find a way up to the rafters. Soon enough, she found a ladder in an empty shaft. 

Once at the top, she realized there were more people here than she expected, more people who could possibly whisper to her cousins that she was here. She tried not to let the panic set in, but she could feel the cold sweat building, damp on the small of her back as she scanned the people, looking for her cousins. She needed to get out of here. 

Watching all the people mill around, she also was unsure that she would be able to hit her cousins from up here without harming anyone else. “Shit.” She murmured, and decided to climb back down the shaft, but when she turns, one of her cousins is below her, smiling with his gun pointed up at her.

“Hello there, cousin. Fancy seeing you here.”

Though in shock, Clara manages to kick his gun from his hand as he pulls the trigger, making the bullet ricochet in the shaft until it hits his wrist. Clara doesn’t wait, she slams the heel of her boot in his face, spraying blood as he yells in pain and falls from the ladder. Clara quickly jumps down and grabs him by the arms, dragging him to a secluded room before dropping him. 

He’s still groaning in pain, cradling his wrist. She kicks him in the ribs and feels some satisfaction at the way he cries out. There’s a sick part of her that calls out, wants to take out her knife and carve him up like a butcher. It was inconceivable that just weeks ago she trembled while holding a gun to Adrian, now instead of being afraid that she would freeze up and not get the job done, she was afraid of going too far. She kicks him again instead to curb the desire, but she only feels more of a rush when she hears his ribs crack beneath her feet and he begs her, “Please, Clara.”

“How did you know I would be here?”

He takes too long to answer and she takes out her knife, he cowers just from the sight of it. Coward, he disgusts her. “Alfie warned us, said he would let us have you as long as he got a turn with you before we were done.” The things men would do for a chance to get their cock warm, she felt nauseous thinking of what could happen to her if she didn’t get out of here. Fucking Tommy was right, she should have taken the men in with her. 

Her cousin still lays on the floor begging her for his life while she’s thinking, pulling her from her reverie. She cocks her head as she watches him, fascinated. The way a toddler watches a slug as they pour salt over the creature. She raises her knife again and quickly leans over, slashing his throat before he has time to react. The blood splatters on her face, but she doesn’t seem to notice, still watching as he claws at his throat, blood bubbling from his mouth. 

She stares at him as the light ebbs out of his eyes, distracted by the power that blooms in her chest. It’s the mistake that will bring her down, because she doesn’t hear her cousin come in behind her. She spins almost a second too late, and he pulls the trigger. 

Shouts ring out after the gunshot resonates through the building, “Fuck.” Clara murmurs. She only takes a second to look at the bullet hole in the wall, only inches from where she had been standing, before shoving aside her cousin and running out the door. She hears the agonizing roar of her cousin as he takes in his brother dead on the floor, she doesn’t have much time. She moves into the crowd, trying to blend in, keeping her gun close to her chest. She needs to get out, she has to abandon the mission if she wants to get out of here alive. As she goes, she spots the back of Alfie and shoves him, unable to stop herself from calling him out, “What the fuck did you do?”

He looks at her and chuckles, “A pretty lass like you should have stayed home making babies with her husband instead of trying to play at the games of men.”  

This was about her rejection, the fragile egos of men, she felt her face warm with rage, “You stupid horny bastard--”

She doesn’t have time to finish her sentence as someone grabs hold of her collar and rips her back away from the crowd. Before she can turn around to see who holds her, there’s a gunshot. The sound echoes through the room before she realizes she is the one who’s been shot. She doesn’t feel pain, but feels the warmth of blood as it soaks the back of her dress. As she falls to the floor, her cousin smiles down at her and the edges of her vision grow fuzzy. She knows she must be dying. He leans down close to her ear and says, “Thomas Shelby can’t save you now.” And he spits on her before her vision goes black. 

***

Tommy approaches the boys who stare at the building that has erupted in chaos before them, looking back and forth from the cacophony to each other in question. “She told you not to come in, eh?”

“Mister Shelby she threatened to shoot us--”

“It’s alright, boys. You’ll still get your pay.” And then he walked into the fray that he had orchestrated. 

All of Alfie’s guests had fled, but Tommy still walks slowly through the building, pushing open the door to a small room. There’s a body of a man, Clara’s cousin. Looking closer, Tommy can see Clara played with him for a while before slashing his throat. It was always a game to her, it was why she made so many mistakes. He left the room and saw more bodies spread apart on the floor, two were men with single gunshot wounds to the head. Tommy knew this was the work of the Russians, just as he had asked. 

***

One Day Earlier

“Thomas Shelby, you have quite the reputation around here.”

Tommy sat across from the head of the Russian family, Ivan Sokolov. His accent was heavy, he had long blonde hair that he slicked back, and eyes the color of storm clouds. When Tommy offered him a cigarette he refused, opting to chew on the tobacco leaves instead, a habit Tommy found particularly off-putting. “Spare me the niceties, I’m looking to make a deal with you. Your presence is making some people around here particularly nervous. I have been asked already to find a way to remove you from the territory, and believe me, it would not be difficult for me to arrange.”

Ivan sat back in his seat before spitting in a spittoon. Tommy did nothing to hide his disgust. “Does my presence make you nervous, Mister Shelby?”

Tommy shrugged, “I mind my own, I pay no mind to others until they become an inconvenience to me and then I take care of it. You don’t interfere with my business, I have no problem. Unfortunately, the Jews have already become quite restless with your presence and so have asked for my help to root you out. I will honor my word.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because Mister Solomons has a tendency to betray me, so this time, I will not make the mistake of trusting him again. If you want my protection, I ask only for a small favor in return. If not, I will remain true to my word.”

Ivan chews on the tobacco leaves contemplatively for a few moments before speaking again, “What is the favor you ask?”  

***

Slowly, as if he knows what he’s about to find, Tommy’s eyes landed on the third body. Clara. His knees practically gave out when he saw the amount of blood that pooled around her. His mind immediately shot back to Grace. He had done it again, he had put her in danger, made her a part of his scheme without telling her and now she was going to die here. “Clara.” His voice shook as he knelt beside her, putting a hand to her cheek to try and wake her. She was still warm. He pressed his fingers to her neck, almost too afraid of what he’d find, but he felt a faint thrum against the pads of her fingers and his breath shuddered through him violently.

“You made a deal with the Russians.”

Tommy looked up at Alfie and stood, regaining his cool composure, conscious of the fact that if he did not get Clara out of here soon, she would be gone. “I made a backup plan for when you inevitably betrayed me. You fuck me, I fuck you. Simple.”

Alfie nods then looks down at Clara, “Could you get her out of here? She’s staining my floors. Very porous material, wood. Pain in the arse to clean.”

Tommy keeps one eye on Alfie as he bends to scoop Clara into his arms. She grunts as he moves her and the sound fills him with relief, “Are you going to try and kill me while I have a woman bleeding out in my arms or am I free to go?”

Alfie looks around and shrugs, “I’d say we’re even, don’t you think, mate?”

If Clara died, Tommy decided then and there he would kill Alfie. But for now… “Goodbye Alfie. Always a pleasure.”

And he turned and walked from the building, trying to ignore the way her blood trickled down his arm as he carried her. It was good she was still bleeding, he tried to reassure himself, it meant she still had a pulse. He placed her in his car as gently as he could and then sped away, only then allowing the panic to seep through his cracks just a little bit. He kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye to detect movement, but she was impossibly still. 

It felt like hours until Tommy reached the hospital, skidding into the courtyard. He ran with her in his arms and yelled for help until someone put her on a stretcher and left him there, his forearms drenched in blood, the floor spotting with it. He sat and waited for hours. He didn’t wash off the blood, waving off well meaning nurses who approached him with wet towels. What if it was the last time he would have anything of Clara’s on him? The last way he could touch her?

Eventually Polly showed up, having grilled the boys who had waited outside the building on where Tommy went. They sputtered out that they saw him leave with Clara in his arms and she didn’t look well. Polly looks torn between lecturing Tommy and trying to comfort him, but Michael barrels in soon after, his eyes wild as they land on Tommy’s blood drenched arms, “Where the fuck is she? What did you do to her?”

Polly immediately stands between them, but Tommy doesn’t move to defend himself, “Michael, now is not the time, go take a walk,” Pol says lowly through clenched teeth.

“I told her, I fuckin’ told her if she didn’t stay away from you you would ruin her.”

Tommy looks up and his eyes are cold and empty, “So what, Michael, do you feel like a big man now because you were right?”

Michael shakes his head, his face red with unadulterated fury, “When all this is done, I swear to God, Tommy, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes while you sleep.”

“Michael.” Polly said sternly in warning, hospital staff were looking over now.

Tommy was trying hard to keep his temper leashed, knowing it was only being amplified by his panic at the idea of Clara not walking out of the hospital, but he couldn’t resist the retort that left his mouth, “I hope you can see well in the dark, you might hit Clara by mistake.”

Polly wasn’t able to hold Michael back this time when he barreled through her looking to punch Tommy, but Tommy grabbed his wrist and twisted hard before using his other fist to pummel Michael in the jaw. The hospital staff was already calling the police, Polly was yelling, and Tommy leaned down to whisper in Michael’s ear, “You can try all you like Michael, but you’ll never be me. And Clara will never love you. S’time to grow up and stop throwing these temper tantrums. The day you raise a pistol to me, after everything I have given you, it’ll be your last day in this world.” And then he walked out of the hospital before the police could arrive to drag him out.

tag list:

@mariamermaid @gingertaurus @tommy-scum @lil-black-heart @wildmavs @unrulyhealy @shadow-of-wonder @trash-can-beebo @alyciaswhore @godsaverosemary @parochialism @zazasblogxx @randommostlypotter @julietswildchild @sunsetsandbooks @thetrappednerd @deliciouspsycho @l0tsofpennies @lucy-xxxo @imnotuglyimjustpredebut @annabethgranger123​ @shannonmcc212​ @urbansaint​ @soulslaststand​ 

[tinygamertris]

@nagiru The reblog problems are getting worse and someone in the ‘wtf is going on’ tags suggested it might be a problem with reblog chains so I’m starting a new post to see what happens. Fingers crossed.

Oh shit, Lyris! She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious down here but if she was even a little bit late, Lyris would start to fret, and when she fretted she tended to do so with her entire body and sometimes her axe.

It appeals to both the side of me that likes adventure and the side of me that loves using blocks to make stuff but isn’t into Minecraft’s vast and esoteric crafting system. Also I started a new game last night because I got one of the rare drops from a lategame boss and it’s a goddamn engraved sixshooter but mages can’t use it! 

I think it might be an autism thing for me as well. Noises are very hard for me to filter out, which makes it hard to concentrate, but with music or a podcast to listen to it’s easier to block out everything. I do my best work with earbuds in.

Yeah, I fully expect to see a lot of very sad fans when the final episode drops. Laura Kate Dale talked about it on Podquisition a couple weeks ago and she definitely thinks it’s one of the darker things she’s listened to. (Which, considering her taste in games and her participation in a podcast about video game porn, is saying a lot.)

I love the realistic arrow arc mods! I actually did a few years of archery in my teens, before they tightened the rules about what medication you can take when competing and my asthma medication suddenly got banned (BOO), and the natural bow shooting just doesn’t work. It’s okay for the crossbows though, I can handle it for that.

They did such a good job of showing us why the absolute fucker took a power company to pretty much rule the world. The shit he plans and blames on AVALANCHE is evil as fuck. I would be impressed if I wasn’t so disgusted.

Oh god don’t remind me of the Sephiroth fights in Kingdom Hearts, uuuuugh. They were so meeeeean. I get that they were bonus boss fights but some of those moves were evil and the REACH on the Masamune is insane! But the Masamune is such a cool sword. It’s a proper nodachi and he uses it properly, which you almost never see in video games. (I kinda wish there’d been a Nodachi in Ghost of Tsushima, but that game was still brilliant to play.)

Silver is indeed very cute~ Cute and tormented is a really good combination, shan’t lie. I want to give Silver all the hugs, honestly. Even though he’d probably sulk endlessly.

N is a very sweet lad who is full nerd, and one thing I love is that even if you have text speed at maximum his text still comes out significantly faster than anyone else. Lovely little gameplay way of showing that he has the whole ‘I am excited and love talking about all the things I talk about with a new person who isn’t just going to yes-man me because I’m the King of Team Plasma’ thing going on. I love gameplay and story integration <3

Oh man, okay, so I’m gonna spoil a small bit of the Rainbow Rocket plot because it’s so good. Colress has turned up in passing a couple times in the plot, you’ve been going through the taken over Aether Foundation taking out boss rushes of most of the villains of the series to that point... And then Ghetsis, after you beat him, grabs Lillie and threatens to kill her if you don’t leave. Guzma’s been helping you along the way by keeping Rocket Grunts off your back, but he’s not willing to risk hurting Lillie. Ghetsis is gloating and getting really worked up... And in comes Colress, absolutely steaming, he tells Ghetsis he’s always hated him for being such a bastard, and uses his arm computer to zap Ghetsis back to the alternate dimension Giovanni took him from. It’s glorious. 

(Also if you’ve not played Ultra Sun then you have missed Dulse and Zossie, the most adorable dorks ever. I love them so much.)

The Astrals are the Actual Fucking Worst and I would quite like for them to die now please. Of COURSE they’d orchestrate centuries of pain and suffering to solidfy their power base, that’s all they’ve ever done throughout the history we know.

[facepalming-since-chernobyl]

I’m going to talk about personal stuff, but still related to the show. I don’t ask for people feel sorry for me etc. I just want to show something.

Exactly 3 years go my mom died. She got a stroke and was slowly fading away for a week. As you can guess, it was the worst few weeks in my life, whole February was devastating and made me want to crawl into a hole and never crawl back. You know, pretty normal stuff when you loose one of the most important people in your life.

There were three things that kept me sane during that time. My best friend who kept chatting with me on Facebook about real dumb/weird stuff, my TeenWolf salty squad and karamel, that was rising on that time. Two adorable people, falling in love, with an interesting bakcgroud - I guess, something like that can fish your brain form the puddle of depressing shit, even if it’s just for a while.

Too bad Supercorp shippers decided to have a hating party in our tags then, huh? They finally realized that karamel was going to happen and started their shit party. And someone made a list of the most gross blogs, so they deciede it was an attack at “teen lgbt fans” and that thanks to ithat list the “teens” were targeted by awful people.

So, instead of just scrolling down cute shit and meta, I had to scroll down hundereds of posts kindly informing me of what kind of shitty human being I am, homophobe, slave owner fan, blah  blah, plus the “I’m a SC shipper, block me fucker, karamel sucks” kinds of posts (totally ignoring that on that time they were attacking karamel teens - a lot of them deactivated -, but whatever). 

Here I am, having really horrible weeks, trying to deal with shit and keep my mind away from stuff and scrolling down a place where I should find nice things, but instead I just hit block button all the time. I can tell you - amazing experience. 

Why I’m moaning about it? One of the Sueprcorps’ argument, why they are going to “#boycott Supergirl” (now they say “save”, because when you change the name of the tag suddenly all the hate you are going to spread sounds GOOD and resonable) is that the show helps them to deal with reality, where they face horrible people, circumstances, bias, hate and death, basically it helps them to deal with harsh reality.

My problem is - they ask for something, while totally ignoring other fans. 

Supergirl is NOT an exlcusive show ONLY for Supercorp shipppers, it’s a show for every person who watches it. Probably most of the people who watch it, deal with some kind of shit. You don’t know what the person on the other side is going through - no one HAS to inform anyone about it or explain why watches the show or likes this character or a ship. NO ONE. The same goes for the - no one should feel better than others for liking a ship or a charcter. And you know what? The same goes for everyone who is happy person, who just want to enjoy the show. I know, what a disturbing thing, huh?

And here we have Supercorp shippers who basically... feel better than others and think they deserve more things than everyone else. Because what? They have shittier lives? Bigger depression? Worse experiences? We are seriously going to RATE things like this? So we can feel free to hate on the other side? There is only good side and bad side? If you are on the wrong side you can fuck yourself? Your ass is the most important thing in the entire universe? Everything what YOU want should happen? Dear Rao.

I mean, we all want things we like and love to happen, maitain etc. We want to see our ships and characters happy and i don’t think we care about the feeling of  the other “side”. The problem is norma people don’t start hate campaigns, don’t bully cast, don’t harass other fans, don’t try to force the “one true and proper” idea at the producers, don’t pretend that they fight for the “better world” while SPREADING HATE etc. And this is what Supercorp shippers have been doing for the past 3 years. 

I’m aware what they are doing. I’m aware what they are trying to achieve. They tried to portray whole cast at SDCC17 as homophbic and disgusting, while twisitng their words. They called the cast homophobic because they sang a song about Supercorp being just friends, while now they scream that Supergirl crew is queerbaiting them (what an irony). They threw parties after two actors - who were horribly bullied - left the show. They hated still hating on 4 POC actors. They treat the main actress of the show horribly since she started her real life realtionship and still doing it, even when they are aware through  what kind of hell she went through. They make fun of depression and mental ilness only because an actor they openly hate, goes through it, they even hate on his campaign that tries to help people with similar problems. They hate on an actor who just asked to stop putting negative comments under his tweets about the ep he has directed, and accuse him of being homophobic, because he liked tweets of “problematic” people. They ignored every statement of the cast members that said something about trolls or cast hate. They ignored a character in the show and his line about how in the future cyberbullying and trolls are banned on internet. They ignore all of their haters and complain all the time how they are not like them, while liking the posts and gifs made by the most horrible people in their fandom - but they will keep saying something about “vocal minority” and how they are not like that. So you are like who exactly? While you ignore the idiots and keep interacting with them? How you are not like that while you want the BOYCOTT SUPERGIRL TAG trending during the next ep? 

Dear Supercorp shippers, you are not the majority of the fandom. I know what you want to achieve, again, by the hate campaigns, but you won’t. Because the cast, writers and producers know what you have done, oh sorry, what your so called MINORITY have done. All what you do is hating, complaning, moaning and putting shit under every official post. If you think you will get Supercorp after all of it - good luck.

PS. KramReceipts or the stalker who constantly scroll my blogs and sends it to that twitter account - go fuck yourself ;*

[tinyfoodie]

Say something. Revenge. (Billy Hargrove x Reader)

Summary: After Billy cheated on you and wasn’t going to mention it, at first you wanted to just forget about him. But something deep inside you whispers that it’s time for revenge.

Note: it’s part 2 for my story “Say something” posted on my blog a few days ago. 

As always feel free to reblog and likes. 

I'm really thanks to all of you guys: for likes, shares, and comments. It makes me want to write more! Lots of love! 

@cherrym4rk @5sosxgrethan @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @ashtronomyyyy @your-dreams-are-strong @nenathemorena

________________________________________________________________

Days after the “incident” weren't better, keeping you in the conviction that the best option now would be staying home like...forever. You felt everyone's eyes are on you from the moment you stepped over the school threshold. When you walked into the class silence came at once and only sound you could hear was ventilation wailing. Luckily for you, it wasn’t one of those lessons when you have to work together. Nobody expects that you, disposition of goodness and peace, will fall into his love trap. Definitely, you and Billy were in the center of attention of the whole school, providing a breeding ground for rumors. You wanted to forget about it- but it was too late because women in school already picked sides: some of the girls stayed with you “in the name of women's power and honor”, and some, of course, have sizzled occasion to get close to him more than ever waiting for the moment when he needs some “consolation”. Billy seemed not to be interested in all of this, trying to act cool anywhere he was, while being asked about all situations he was changing the subject neatly. The most painful and irritating thing was that he started to act like you never existed. Like you never „happened” and it was easy for him to act natural - always surrounded by his followers. Even if u think that you don’t know this guy anymore, it seemed that only you can see and understand how the situation bites him from the deep inside. He tried to act like that was nothing to him, but in this behavior was something artificial, like he lost all of his charm in exchange for conscience tormenting him. And this remorse made him keep you at bay. But for you there was too late for self-reproach.

„(Y/N)??”You were near your locker when you heard the female voice talking to you. Looked up you saw Jess.“...yeah?” you asked hesitantly, seeing a group of her friends behind her, whispering to each other while looking at you. “Look (Y/N)...I am sorry. Really sorry. I didn’t know that you were then together...ok?” Jess smiled to you, really trying to act like as if she was really sorry. “Sure. I know” you answered briefly, praying in your head that she would gives you peace already. Jess stood for a while, looking like she is about to say something more, but luckily for you, she turned and walked away.<”Then?” So you already sharpen your teeth on him, bitch> -you thought, taking a deep breath to calm down.

“That was the most insincere attempt to apologize I have ever seen“ this time you know that voice - it was Robin, leaning against the lockers carelessly. You both looked at leaving Jess, noticing how she's glancing in Billy’s direction. He looked at her with a seductive smile too, then he looked reflexively at you and frowned. She wasn’t sorry, that was for sure. But you got it. You wouldn't be at her place either. “So what you gonna do babe?” Robin looked at you, chewing gum ostentatiously. Huh – good question but you've already had an answer because yesterday you were thinking about some sophisticated revenge.“I think I have an idea”. You left surprised by the sudden reaction Robin and rushed to the history class, hoping to meet there someone who is perfect for the implementation of your plan.

“Harrington I need your help” you turned the chair and sat on it by Steve’s table. He glanced at you from the notebook, straightened while combing his hair with his fingers.“Daddy Steve at the station...no. In my imagination, it looks much sexier. Maybe next time I should...” - “HARRINGTON FOCUS” you rolled your eyes, but some smile crept onto your lips.“We have a mission. YOU have a mission. Got it? You are the only one who can help me and it must be done today. Listen...” you bent over whispering all plan in his ear. “You have it (Y/N). Every reason to dig this asshole is good. I am in”. That was exactly what you wanted to hear now. You run your hand over his hair ruining their majesty and left class in the company of prolonged groan.

_____

It was a few minutes after the bell, so it was time for you t hide and wait until the hallway got clear. “Have it”? stepping from foot to foot you have been watching Steve coming from the opposite side, looking around with holding something with obvious reluctance. “If only I was smarter...smarter than already am - of course, I will never say yes (Y/N). I HAVE TOUCHED HIS JEANS! IT’S LIKE TOUCHING HIS BUTT!” he shoved some clothes into your hand. “Wow. You finally have something to talk about in the „love matters”, Daddy Steve” you smiled broadly while leaving, had to listen to the tirade about „what will happen if Billy associates Steve's disappearance from PE with the lack of his things”. You went outside, straight in the Camaro direction. According to your plan, no one should see and hear that you are leaving the parking. Almost all of the students were at classes, and Billy has got PE inside. Moving to the driver's door, you slowly ran a finger along with the mask. Firstly, you wanted to hurt his car badly, maybe some scratch, maybe the glass broken. But you weren’t like him, you didn’t break up things. But you could easily hurt him in the other way. Turning the keys in the ignition, you felt a tingling in your fingers, grabbing the heavy steering wheel. “Billy let you drive?”. You jumped up feared, cursed loudly. God, you didn’t expect Max, looking inside the car. One gaze at her and she already knew that it wasn’t something that Billy has to know about. Not now. She jumped inside. You were looking at her with mouth open, still unable to articulate anything wise. “Just do what you need to (Y/N)”. She liked you and she was the only one who knows that you two were dating. For her, you were better than others “cows” coming to her house with Billy, giggling stupidity and treating her as unreasonably as he was. Mumbling something under your breath you moved violently from the parking lot, this time having a feeling that someone will catch you soon if you hesitate. You have time to explain everything to Max. It wasn’t a long road.

_____

Meanwhile in school PE has come to an end and boys returned to the locker room, tired after playing basketball. Nobody suspected anything, and certainly not Billy himself until he looked into a never-lockable cabinet. “Okey, assholes. Where are my clothes?”. Silence. He closed the locker with a bang, walking slowly through the locker room. “I asked. Where. Are. My. FUCKING. CLOTHES” looking at those who had the misfortune to stay there. “Harrington. You. You, fucker, were late” Billy stood in front of him, ready to knock him down, when Steve just trying to stay calm. “Dude, it's not your business why I was late, but if I can give you advice, look at your locker once again”. Watching Billy grit his teeth in fury, he almost got in his own pain. Taking advantage of the opportunity he slipped out of the locker room. Steve didn’t want to wait till Billy kills someone. Billy approached the locker with distrust as if he was going to jump out of it. On the door was an inscription written with white paint, shining in the light of halogens :

7 MINUTES IN HEAVEN

7 MINUTES IN HELL

7 MILES AT WEST

The whole school heard this yell and after this even louder roar on the parking where half-naked Billy (he never wears top so he didn’t even have it in a locker) discovered that his car had also disappeared.“That bitch...TOMMY move your ass. I know where she is” he yelled at terrified Tommy, who've just opened with silence the passenger door in his car.

_____

“...you must be kidding me. Like, I know Billy very well, but that was just really disgusting” Max looked at you while sipping a shake. You both were sitting in a beanery almost on the exit from Hawkins. You know that he will find that place really quick, but time was unrelenting to you and only her presence gave you comfort. Being in the process of eating candied sweet cherries from the top, the doors open and you knew who came in. Mostly because of Max gasped with air at his sight. It's been an eternity before he found you with a pattern. “(Y/N) I swear I'm gonna...Max? You have so fucking trouble, shitbird ”. By gouging a straw in a tall glass, you took a look at him. “Nice style, Hargrove. But isn’t it too cold for topless? Or you think you are so damn hot that you don’t need much on you”. That was enough for him -he slammed his fist down on the table, then leaning on it. “My keys, (Y/N). Enough for today, baby”. You get a deep breath and stand up, looking him straight in the eyes. “Don’t you dare call me baby anymore. Be thankful, that it’s all I do to you. I wanted to hurt you really bad, you know? But I am not you, I am not breaking hearts like as if they were a pack of cigarettes that can be crushed and dumped. But know, that for a short moment you have lost control over yourself, over your life, that for a moment, you've lost something what you love so much ... and clothes, thanks to which you are standing here almost naked now is fully satisfying me. And from today I am no longer for you. I will be at your fingertips, but you won’t touch me anymore. And even if you think it doesn’t affect you now, it will start. I assure you”. He got stuck. You couldn't even read the expression on his face, he just stands in front of you with cold eyes fixed on yours. “Max. To the car”. That was all he could say. The girl looked at you and you smiled at her, giving her a key when she passed by. “See you around parking at school, (Y/N)”. “Try to touch her. And next time I am not gonna be so soft”. You followed him with your eyes to the exit and left payment on the table. You didn’t expect you'll found Tommy in front of the entrance, finishing the cigarette. The Camaro engine's howl was long ago barely audible. “Wanna ride?” He smiled at you, seeing everything through a glass door. It was sure that he wouldn’t keep his tongue shut.

You didn’t know that, but after „car” situation, you have been unofficially called by the majority a “Queen of Hawking”.

[grimey--gal]

Ya’ll are dirty and you’re welcome 

He doesn’t dream much, but the few he has had of late have been disturbing. 

He blames it on the fact that he’s allowed Chucky to move into his home with him. Every day, he questions the sanity of his decision. He blames it on the alcohol and the weed and the accidental touching of hands or exchange of sexually charged quips. He blames it on the fact that he has not been touched in a long time, and has never really known the intimacy of sex. 

He blames it on everything, but it does not change the dreams. 

The first one is fairly simple, and fairly vivid. It is the same as it always is, except that for some reason, Chucky is wearing his shirt and the collar is slipping down his shoulder, exposing previously hidden scars and soft freckles. They’re on the couch, which is normal, but Chucky leans forward to get a smoke and then his now-long hair is slipping away from his neck. 

It is a dream, which is why he leans after Chucky and grabs his shoulders, gently, and begins to press soft, beckoning kisses along the nape of his neck and his shoulder blade. He wakes to Chucky’s pleased sighing, and is wet. Sticky. Mortified. 

He takes as shower and goes to work, but now that he has had this dream, the thoughts continue to haunt him. The idea of it does not disgust him as much as he feels it should, and this makes it all the more difficult. He is snapped at by several customers because he pays little to no attention to his work.  He can feel the phantom-warmness of Chucky’s skin from the dream, hear the exhale from his mouth, the underbreathed cursing. 

“Fuck, Andy,” Chucky says, when they’re mid argument, and Andy feels the blood rush south. But Chucky continues, and it is not his dream. “If you could hear half of the dumb shit that came out of your mouth! Now help me clean up - this blood won’t scrub itself off the floor.” 

Andy rolls his eyes, but when Chucky bends to peel off his clothes, his eyes linger a little too long. Something grows inside him. His heart beats fast in his throat. 

He writes about it, and then scraps it, burning the page with his lighter. He knows Chucky reads his writing. It keeps him on eggshells, paranoid of the fact that something in his writing might give away the befuddling emotions he finds himself constantly battling. He waits for the day Chucky decides to use this knowledge against him. 

The second dream comes anyways, and Chucky is drenched in blood, hair sticky and clothes ruined. “What’re you gonna do? Whip me?” Chucky taunts him. 

He picks him up and fucks him on the counter, beer bottles rolling off and crashing against the floor. His hands become stained with the blood, and he isn’t sure if it is symbolic or just a kink he hasn’t explored and isn’t sure he wants to. He fucks him hard, hand on his throat. Chucky pants and curses at him, begging. His eyes are rolling back.

You fucker, make me cum already. Fuck me harder, fuck…! 

He washes his sheets before Chucky stumbles into the kitchen, unaware. He shouts out something about making coffee, and that if he wants any sugar he’ll have to put it in himself.

Put it in, put it in already, he hears. He slams a fist against the top of the washer. 

“Andy what the fuck are you doing?” Chucky calls out. He doesn’t reply. He takes a shower instead and he stays until the water runs cold. It doesn’t make the dreams leave him alone. They follow him. 

He’s drinking with Kristen and Jeeves later that day when a fantasy takes over. Kristen is mid-conversation with Jeeves, and when they intertwine their fingers he sees his fingers pulling Chucky’s hair, pressing him against his cock. 

“Take it all now,” he’s growling, and Chucky is scowling up at him, muffled moaning around him. Chucky’s small hands are gripping his jeans while he gags, tears forming just in the corners of his eyes. “Give me teeth and I’ll leave bruises for weeks.”

Kristen says his name before he finds out if Chucky defied him. He’s sure he would. He thinks about this more than he’d like. He thinks he likes the idea of this a lot more than he should. 

He drinks more when he comes home, and he avoids Chucky, who stares after him in curiosity. “What? Did I say something that hurt your sweet little feelings, huh?” Chucky calls after him. He’s drunk, and uncouth, and Andy is already thinking of shameful ways to use his mouth. He goes to his room instead, closing the door, his cock already hardening. He feels electric.

“Aww - don’t be like that, baby,” Chucky is crowing. He locks his door, just in case Chucky plans on trying to come in. He doesn’t. 

“Oh, baby, baby!” Chucky calls in the fourth dream. They’re in Andy’s bed, Andy shoving his face into the mattress. Chucky is hogtied with red ropes, squirming relentlessly. It doesn’t stop him from pushing into him, penetrating him again and again and again, until Chucky is practically screaming, drooling into the pillowcase. 

“Squeal,  little piggie, squeal,” Andy taunts him, the way Chucky has always done to him. “Cry for more. Cry until your voice wears out.” 

He wakes up in a rush, panting. He can hear the echoes of dream Chucky sobbing in his ear, pleading for mercy, and it brings him to completion. He doesn’t sleep much after that. He is afraid of what he will dream about next. 

He finds himself unable to contain himself some days, with he and Chucky being so close. Chucky will smile wickedly at him with teeth, and he’ll  doze about those teeth in his neck, leaving bruises.

If I ever see anyone touch you kid, they’re dead. You’re mine, got that?

Most of the time, he dreams of himself bringing Chucky to ruin, bearing down on him, breaking him, pulling cry after cry from his mouth as he fucks him. Sometimes, he dreams about it being the other way around, and these scare him more than the rest. 

This is the fifth dream. Chucky has him shackled to his bed post on the floor, standing above him, grinning. He’s gagged, and Chucky slides the tip of a knife up the flesh of his leg, tapping his ass. 

“You’re shaking,” Chucky snickers, and Andy feels heat growing in his belly. “Tell me, is it because you’re scared, or because you want this so badly?” 

Everytime Chucky talks to him, it makes his skin tingle. Every time they accidentally brush arms or share too close of a personal space, he burns. He hopes that Chucky does not notice, but a part of him hopes he does, and this makes him feel disgusted about himself. He drinks this away, and he falls into a greater depression than normal, which his friends notice, but get no answers when they ask him about it. 

There are times when he thinks that it will happen in reality. Usually when they are drunk and high and closer than normal. Chucky’s voice will change pitch; higher, sweeter, subservient. He will still say the same things he would say when drunk, and is just as foul-mouthed and reckless, but they will lean too close and Andy will think this is it. 

But then the moment will pass, and he will go to bed, frustrated and confused and afraid. Afraid he exposed himself too much and will have himself found out. 

He is at work and the daydreams plague him. They never leave him alone. He envisions Chucky on top of him, rubbing their cocks together, hair over his blue eyes. 

“Scared, Barclay?” he asks, his mouth a crooked smile. It is a challenge. A challenge he wants to win. He sees himself flip Chucky over underneath him, slapping his ass, biting down his backbone. Making him whimper. 

“Kind of bold for someone who knows who their owner is, don’t you think, button?” he asks, biting Chucky’s earlobe, rewarded by a low moan of surprise and arousal. Chucky grinds up against him, whining for attention. 

“If I belong to you, come on and  fuckin’ play with me then,” Chucky murmurs. The bell rings, and Andy is shaken from his reverie to a customer walking in. But his thoughts stay nonetheless. Don’t you want to play with your doll, Andy? I’ve been waiting for you. Please. Don’t ignore me, Andy. I need you. I need you. 

When he comes home, Chucky is not there, and he is ashamed to admit he is more disappointed than relieved. Hunger growls in his gut. There is nothing to truly satisfy his need. And even if it was right in front of him, he is not sure he would take it. He goes to his room again, writing and burning his feelings away, bottle in hand. If Chucky comes home, he does not hear it, lost in thought and conflicted. 

He touches himself before he sleeps, coming to the conclusion that he will keep it in his dreams, a secret of his own. And when he comes, no one will know why save for himself. The knowledge he will take to his grave.

[spacehologramcollection]

NSFW Alphabet with Raiden

So here we have some top tier trash. This time for Raiden. Hope you thirsty fuckers are happy. Thundergod is here. I really tried with this, it’s not the best by far but it does get better as it goes along.  Warnings; NSFW, Smut, cum, all the general sinfulness. 18+ under the cut.  GIF does not belong to me. 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex) Raiden is incredibly soft and caring with you. You’ve literally fucked the god of Thunder. If that doesn’t deserve some aftercare, then god knows what does. He’ll make you some tea, get you a hot water bottle and make sure you’re comfortable. All nice and cosy.   B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Okay, since he just appears in this form because he wants to, he doesn’t really have a preference. But if he had to pick one, it would be his hands are definitely one of his favourite body parts. He’s proud of them and what they’ve done, as well as how easily they can get you off. He loves it. But he also loves how they caress you. Your body part, he loves your waist and abdomen. He loves how they curve and how they fit the mould of his hands perfectly. As if you were made from marble, by the gods themselves. He’s more into your body than his own. C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person) He’d prefer to cum in you rather than on you. Something just feels right about him finishing deep inside you. As discussed in my ‘Cumshot’ post he’s not really into cumming on your face. If you really beg him to, he will oblige and give you what you want. He just feels his cum shouldn’t be sullying your beautiful face like that. He’s such a sweetie. D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Would have thought about fucking you whilst you wear his hat, he’s not sure why he’s thought about this, but it has crossed his mind a few times. It’s a thought he doesn’t try to dwell on since he’s unsure of what your reaction to his request would be. E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) Well, considering he’s the Eternal God of Thunder, you’d have thought he’d have had sex at some point, maybe once or twice over his life. But he comes across quite inexperienced but willing to learn. He may have had some partners, but he is lacking in the experience department. But very receptive to learn, you mortals do have your quirks. F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual) He’s going to prefer missionary or you on top. He’s not very adventurous with his positions. But he is willing to try new ones. He’d prefer missionary for its intimacy and how he can pace himself a lot better. Whilst preferring you on top, because he wants to give you more control. He’s afraid of hurting you almost and wants to make sure you’re always in control. Very receptive to what you need/want, isn’t afraid to shake it up with some encouragement. G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc) He’s going to be serious in the moment more so than humorous. He’s serious by nature and that transcends into your sex life. He’s going to be focused on you, your pleasure and ensuring he isn’t being too rough or hurting you. He will give you a smile and will lighten up (Puns for days) once he’s reassured and assured you’re safe and in control. H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.) He’s going to be fairly well-groomed. He doesn’t like anything to be un-neat. It’s not going to be mess down there, because he’s some pride. So, it’ll be well-groomed, not manscaped but groomed and trimmed enough that you can deal with it. I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)  Very intimate and romantic. Sex is such a passionate and almost emotional thing for him. It’s like your bodies are connecting and intertwining. It’s almost beautiful to him? He’s always had a soft spot for Mortals, but you exceed that soft spot. He loves the feel of your skin on his, your bodies pressed against each other and the moans you make. He wants to cherish and commit every little thing about you to his memory. Therefore, he’s going to be very intimate with you. Very romantic, he’ll often compliment your body, caress it and really hype you up over how beautiful you are. J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon) He doesn’t really feel the need to masturbate. It’s not something that he needs often, that and he doesn’t really have the time. Partaking in keeping Earthrealm safe has kept him pre-occupied for most of it. He has however, spent a millennia alone and certain needs to arise. So, he does do it on the occasion, and my god, is it sinful. The noises he makes, the fact it’s the one time he loses his composure. It’s Electric. Sorry I had to. But yeah, he does enjoy it and will partake it when the need and time arises. However, once he’s been with you it will not ever feel the same or suffice and quench the thirst as much as it once did. K = Kink (One or more of their kinks) Not really a kinky guy, like you’ll have to maybe explain some of them too him, because he cannot wrap his head around some. He would be into some form of electrostimulation. His power getting you off would be a very sinful secret of his. He knows it dangerous and therefore will not put you at risk. So, it’s a kink he has but will probably not divulge in. Just because he’s a nervous bean around you and doesn’t want to hurt you. He cares too much about you. But the thought of his power, getting you off and stimulating him, is an erotic thought he often has. L = Location (Favourite places to do the do) Very much a bedroom kind of guy. Doesn’t mean that him fucking you is going to be limited to the bed and the bed alone. He’ll fuck you on your dresser, on the bed, on the floor, in the shower. You name it, he’ll fuck you there. He prefers privacy, because he does not fancy anyone catching him fucking you. He would not hear the end of it, like my god. Could you imagine Liu Kang or Johnny fucking Cage finding him balls deep in you? He would not hear the end of it. M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going) Seeing you fully nude or undressing would get him going. Seeing your whole body in all of its glory, looking like a piece of fine marble, handcrafted and cared by the gods themselves to absolute perfection. He finds it mesmerising, beautiful and enchanting. He cannot take his eyes off your form. It turns him on that you, allow him to fuck you, something so divine as you. He also gets turned on by you kissing his neck. He’s a sucker for it, especially the occasional little nibble with you dipping below his collar and leaving a slight mark. He loves little reminders (That no one can see of course) of what you’ve done to him, they also remind him of your time together… just the thought of it can get him ready for the next time you meet. N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) He’s not going to hurt you, degrade you or degrade him. He’s not into himself being degraded, he’s still the God of Thunder, and the thought of you being malicious or spiteful really turns him off. He also doesn’t want to hurt you, because he’s finally found someone he can love, he doesn’t want to risk losing you, hurting you or turning you away. He loves you and respects you enough to not do the above. O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) He prefers to give rather than receive. He loves to watch you come undone, will praise you as you cum hard for him. Covering his face and crying out for him. He’s not a vain man by far, but he feels proud that he’s causing you so much immense pleasure. He’s not opposed to receiving though, he does love the feel of your mouth, slowly taking him in. How your eyes meet his. He fucking loves it but prefers to give rather than receive. He deserves a lot of receiving though, protecting Earthrealm and all. P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.) He’s very slow and sensual, he would prefer to savour every moment with you, rather than rush through and do a sloppy job. He wants enough time to rake in every detail, every little blemish on your skin and all the faces you pull and noises you make. He also wants to ensure he pleasures you fully and to the best of his ability, you cannot do that if he rushes. He’s a perfectionist and will take his time to accomplish the task. No complaints from you.   Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) Quickies are not his jam, he’s tried them, and he does not like them. As with the above, he likes to take his time and accomplish pleasuring you to his fullest ability. He cannot do that if he rushes. He would much prefer proper sex in comparison. He also wants to savour every moment with you and feels time is squandered on rushing through it. Quality over quantity and all of that. R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) He’s not big into taking risks. However, when you first came together and started your relationship, everything was experimenting to him. He sees the logic in this argument and will start to experiment more with positions. He still will not divulge you with his ultimate kink. He’s wary of his power and will be reluctant to do it. So, he will take some risks but not a lot. S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) The stamina of a god. He can last a fair bit and can be pretty much ready to go again. As I said, the stamina of a god. Just because he can, doesn’t mean he will. He will tire you out and does not want to pressure you into continuing if you’re exhausted. You set the pace, the rounds, and he’ll be receptive to your needs. T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) This may come as a surprise, hell, even a shock (I’ll see myself out) to you, but he doesn’t own any toys. The concept is new to him. He wouldn’t mind experimenting with them, but would find, he prefers his own hands and cock to get you off. He did try it but it’s not his thing. Give him some points for trying though. U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Does not tease. If he does its not intentional. Likewise, he’s not into teasing. He doesn’t like to see you beg for anything, just because sex isn’t something you should have to beg him for. Not with how intimate and sacred he views it. V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make) Thunder is loud when it’s getting closer and so is he. He has the potential to get worked up and make some very sinful moans and groans. That’s another reason he prefers the privacy of a bedroom. He can get very loud and worked up. Some very loud moans, head thrown back in pure pleasure. It’s a very godly sight to behold. W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) NSFW; Dark Raiden would not be opposed to using Electrostimulation on you, taking you from behind and generally being rougher with you. All caution has been thrown to the wind so to speak. Dark Raiden would be one hell of a fuck. Like, Lock the doors and close the blinds, you’re going for a fucking ride. SFW; He has never felt this way about someone before. He’s always been soft with Mortals from Earthrealm, but you are something completely different. He wants to spend your life with you. If he could not find a way to prolong your life, so you could live out his with him; he would probably never move on and care for someone the way he has for you. X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) Larger than average, way over 6’5 probably pushing 7 inch. Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?) Not very high. He will deal with it when the need arises. Sexual pleasure is not the highest priority on his list. Because he has a lot of shit to deal with and has no time for himself. Man needs a rest. Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Has problems with sleeping so will always fall asleep after you. But he’s more than content with cuddling up with you whilst you sleep. Curiously watching as you slumber ever so softly and gently. You look so precious and you remind him of his duty to Earthrealm and why he protects it so much.

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

[Fic] All due respect here... (there's no respect due)

Let’s try one last time... I truly apologise if the cut doesn’t work on mobile, I am posting from my laptop.

Enough is enough, they're right. There’s only so much that can be forgiven, before one’s indulgence becomes a red flag. Loneliness is not an excuse, Martino.

“You need to put your foot down” they keep saying. “You need to draw a line and say: this is unacceptable. If you step over the line once you get a warning, but do it twice and we’re done.”

It's just that… you know… He feels so stupid, now? He has been so blind, so naïve and nearly let himself be played like a fiddle. Hurting those who really care about him, and for what? Approval?

The more he thinks about it, the worse it gets. The signals were all there, for fuck’s sake!

Lulling him into a sense of comradery, that he had been missing ever since his friends from high school had all chosen different paths… Yeah, that’s how it had all started. With him, trying so desperately to fill that void. It hadn’t been as difficult as had imagined to bond over incomprehensible lectures, disgusting coffee and eclectic lifestyles. Francesco had been the first to approach him, complimenting his Apparat-inspired T-shirt and asking where he bought it. It hadn’t seen anything quite like it on the Internet, or he would have remembered! Deciding it was best to weed out the homophobes straight away, Martino told him the truth: it was a gift from his boyfriend. Not quite his usual style, but since it made Nico happy to see him wear it…

“Oh man, you’re so whipped.” Francesco had commented, instead, laughing. “But hey, who am I to judge? I’m actually a bit jealous, you know. No one ever made me something that cool. Do you think I could commission him one?”

Marti did, but he had been wrong. Niccolò wasn’t interested in designing clothes for anyone else, and while he was flattered by Fra’s proposal he would have to turn it down. Not exactly a great start, but Martino didn’t think much of it. This wasn’t kindergarten and surely Francesco wouldn’t hold that refusal against Nico.

Marina had literally saved his life, when he crossed the street and didn’t look as he was in the middle of some lovely banter with Niccolò. In return for her heroic deed, he was bound to treat her to lunch. Or a coffee, at least. The way she delivered that ridiculous request, wiggling her head and biting her lips – like a mischievous child, amused by their own audacity – reminded him so much of a certain someone… that he found himself discussing the top 10 TV shows betrayals of the decade (no! they were never going to forgive D&D for what he had done to Daenerys!) over a cappuccino. She might have been side-eyeing him for checking his phone a little too much, but he didn’t really care.

And then came Lorenzo. Well, it was actually Martino who had reached out to him. Who found him sitting on the floor of a dingy bathroom, crying his eyes out. Years ago, he would have stepped out and let someone else comfort a stranger. But then… Then he though ‘what I was the one sitting there? what if it was Nico? I don’t want to think everyone would just walk away and pretend they didn’t see him…’ and sat down next to him. He didn’t ask if he was okay, when he clearly wasn’t. He didn’t ask why he was so distraught. It wasn’t any of his business, and the question alone would have made this guy feel worse. It was a lesson he had learnt the hard way, through his own experience and Nico’s.

“Oi, you got 2 tens or 4 fives? Some spare coins? I’ve only 20€ in my wallet, and that fucking machine never gives you the right change if you put in more than a 10€ note.”   He had asked, when Lori looked up.

“I… I…” He had said, sniffling. Frantically, he had started looking for the money and seemed truly sorry he couldn’t help Martino out.

“Hey, that’s okay. I’ll manage. So, what can I get you? You look like you could use some hot chocolate, though I’m afraid I can only find vaguely chocolatey-flavored water, around here.”

He didn’t think he would get to meet any of them ever again, and then one day he spotted them all sitting at the same table. It wasn’t like Martino had ever believed in fate, but that did seem like a coincidence straight out from a Norwegian teen drama. A French romance. Not that he had ever watched either of them, of course. An occurrence meant to show him that the universe had plans, for the four of them.

In hindsight, he should have told the universe where he could shove its plans…

For a while, however, Martino thought there could hardly be anybody on Earth who got luckier than him in when it came to friendship. They always knew where to find the next best party but didn’t mind spending a night in, binge-watching the latest trashy show that had been uploaded on Netflix. Playing FIFA. Discussing politics, and even ethics and philosophy when they were more than a little drunk.

Everything changed, however, when things started to get a bit more personal. When they started dispensing details about their crushes, their heartbreaks, and Martino foolishly felt comfortable enough to share more of his life with Nico. Painting quite an idyllic picture, as complaints and rants about his inability to tidy up a room and tendency to zone out when they were discussing financial matters would only ever be disclosed to Giovanni. Nevertheless, to say that they weren’t his biggest fans would be an understatement.

  “Let me guess, it’s Nico. Again.”

 “Okay… So, he can leave on read for hours, but starts panicking if you don’t answer straight away?”

 “He put salt in your coffee because you weren’t paying attention? Is he… like, five or something? But well, if you find that endearing… You do you, man.”

 And it only got worse after they met him, and began spinning a whole other narrative in which Martino was either a hero or a martyr, for ‘putting up’ with Nico.

 “Oh, you're such a great guy not giving up on that.”

 “You sure must love him a lot to endure all of his up and downs.”

He reassured them all, told them that he appreciated the concern but that they barely knew Niccolò so he wouldn’t stand for any further slandering of his boyfriend.

So they laid low, and stayed quiet, for a while. It hurt them to see Martino trapped in what clearly was an abusive relationship, but there was nothing more that could be said or done about it. Whenever Nico was mentioned, they changed the subject.

Until tonight. Asking them both to join them at a party, and then corner him and attempted to stage an ‘intervention’.

Couldn’t he see how possessive and controlling Niccolò was, manipulating Marti into thinking his new friends were out to get him?

 “The two of you, against the world? Doesn’t it sound disturbing to you?”

 “Marti, come on, you have to admit that he has controlling tendencies. He shouldn’t need to know where you are at all times, doing what, with whom. He shouldn’t come up and snatch you away, whenever he notices you spend time talking to the same person for more than 2 minutes.”

 “It’s like he can’t stand not being at the center of your attention 100% of the time.”

How… How dare they? Who the fuck do they think they are?

“Get out of my face, you fuckers. If I hear you badmouthing Nico ever again, you’re gonna regret it.”

Thankfully, they don’t try to stop him when he storms out the room. The last thing he wants is to end up in a fight, and having Niccolò find out it was because of him. It had already happened once, with Malik and his friends, and… No revival of that was needed, thanks.

Little do they know about their late conversations, when Martino had indeed noticed was off with Niccolò and tried to find out how he could help. Because Marti couldn’t relate to the magnitude of Niccolò feelings, sure, but he had been there the year before. When everyone in Uni had seemed far more interesting that a boy who still attended high school…

Niccolò has a jealous streak, sure. That had been clear ever since he put in his pasta. But it wasn’t the ugly side of jealousy, stemming from a warped sense of ownership over him. It was more like… Feeling like he didn’t matter, of maybe being interest enough to catch someone’s attention but lacking in keep them entertained. Which in turn made him petty, vindictive, clingy. It was only a matter of time before Martino would agree with those guys, and leave him for good.

Marti tapped Nico's skull, then, and said to his brain "Stop with this bullshit. Stop making my boyfriend suffer, you asshole. You know nothing, zero, zilch, nil, nada. You're worse than Jon Snow.” He bent down to kiss his heart, and went on with "You, on the other hand… You know Nico's the best thing that has ever happened to me and that I'd be a fool not to cherish it. So what if he’s got some flaws? Who cares? Not me. One thing matters and it’s this: no else compares. So yeah, tell him he shouldn't worry: I'm not going anywhere."

"Ever?" He mumbled, not quite ready to believe Martino.

"Kim Jong-un, Nico. Remember?"  Marti reminded him, smiling as he stroked his cheek.

"Right. How could I forget King-Kong-Là…" That made them both laugh, and they decided not to discuss the matter any further. They were far more pleasurable ways to spend their night together…

So yeah, screw them. Screw everyone who overanalyzes every little thing Niccolò does, who is always ready to point the finger at him and say that Martino deserves better.

Of course he does, duh. Better friends, for a start.

*********************** All due respect here... There's no respect due. So fuck you and you, and you and you. You're cool, but fuck you... And I'm out of here. (Swear Jar, Illy)