#damn i really want to plot with you and write with bullet why do is it 1:28am

[lunarriviera]

Hi! Hope you're doimg well! I wanted to ask, what do you do when you get stuck when writing? Like, I know I want to go from point A to point B, but I'm stuck at point A and not sure how to get to point B.

nonny i am busting in here all excitedly like the koolaid man at four in the god o’clock of the morning to answer this, because I ACTUALLY KNOW THIS ONE: 

the solution to this issue is, in fact, square brackets. like this: [???]

what? you say. how works this? you say. READ ON I WILL TELL YOU

so right now in the scene i’m trying to pull together/make into prose, from tattered drafts/sentences/allcaps/bullet points/etc., i have three things that need to happen: 1) police will search a suspect’s house, 2) one of them has to find something incriminating, 3) the suspect’s son has to burst in and cause a lot of trouble. those are my B points. but right now, i’m stuck at point A: shen yi and he rongyue are sitting in the car talking about feelings when they need to get out and go do their damn jobs. how do i get them to move. why aren’t they moving. why are they still sitting there talking, this isn’t brunch goddammit.

at this point as a writer, you get to make a decision: EITHER a) your idea about what needs to happen in this scene was all wrong, and the reason you’re “stuck” at point A is that maybe point A is actually a very interesting place for your characters to linger inside, and maybe they really need to be there a while longer, in case they have things to say or do. and point B maybe isn’t the point B you thought it was going to be, but it’s going to be something different (maybe shen yi and he rongyue realize they need backup, or they decide they’re going someplace else to do something different, instead).

OR: square brackets. it works like this. (and by the way i learned this from @seperis because she is literally a genius, thank you sep darling you should know saved my whole entire life.) here is some of my draft to illustrate:

[shen yi and he rongyue saying a bunch of words about feelings and things not related to the case they’re supposed to be investigating]

“I wonder,” said Shen Yi thoughtfully, “what would happen if you just asked her to go for a walk with you?”

[TK]

Shen Yi stopped in front of the painting and looked at it, at first out of habit, and then more closely, as he instinctively stepped back the correct distance to see both the whole canvas at once as well as its technique. From the other room, he could hear He Rongyue and [Name of Her Assistant] doing [something something something]. He still had on nitrile gloves, so he came closer again, to touch the varnish, feel along the grooves of the brushwork. He frowned. This wasn’t a reproduction—this was a genuine [name of painter redacted bc it’s a plot point and a surprise].

[TK]

“What the fuck are you people doing in my house?” came an aggrieved voice from the landing. Everyone turned to look up at the young man standing there, keys in one hand, a cup of iced coffee in the other. He was, Shen Yi realized, Huang Wei, and that was neither unexpected nor a particular problem, but the person with him was probably going to be a very particular problem indeed.

you can see how i gestured towards three different parts of this scene, even though i didn’t finish any of them here and have no idea what the connective tissue will be between them. and i did this by skipping huge wads of prose and just tossing in “[TK]” for now. ”TK” by the way is an abbreviation i learned while working for newspapers/magazines; journalists use it to mean “to come,” as in, “something important is missing here so i promise i will make a bunch of phone calls and get that detail/fact shoved in there before we go to press.” We use TK instead of TC because you can word-search TK and that letter combination isn’t in any english words (or at least very few; anyway i can’t think of any).

at some point, of course, you will have to fill in “[TK]” or rather, i will, here with all the stuff that’s missing—dialogue, action, and description, mostly; i tend not to summarize or use exposition much, but usually default to telling a story in-scene (a time-honored tradition in fanfic). but the beauty of TK and above all, the square brackets, is that you don’t bog down. you don’t go down a research rabbit hole because you can’t remember the name of He Rongyue’s assistant (Xiao something? Feng?) and you don’t wind yourself into knots figuring out how to get them out of the car and into the house. you keep moving, like a shark.

so if you’re stuck getting from A to B? stop trying to get from A to B. just SKIP there, skip to where you want to be. throw in “[something goes here]” so you remember to go back and add it later. if you have a general idea of what goes there, put that instead: “[somehow they get out of the car still talking and head inside. oh wait how do they break the door down. is jiang xue with them?]”—like that.

the trick with any piece of fic longer than, say, 7-8k, is NOT to get bogged down. anything with multiple scenes, really—even if you have, say, five scenes planned for your oneshot, you will find one really easy to write and then you’ll stare at the next one, which SHOULD be easy to write, for eleventy hours, sweating like that gif of jordan peele. don’t do that. just put “[this is the scene where chen fei throws a chair and ruan nanzhu says something cutting and walks out, and that’s the moment chen fei knows he actually likes the bastard.]” then skip! skip, skip. skip to the moment where you know the next thing that will happen! write that part instead! “it’s two years later and chen fei is furious, because he has to see that lovesick look on ruan nanzhu’s face whenever he thinks qiushi isn’t paying attention. the worst part is that lin qiushi is genuinely loveable, so chen fei can’t even hate him. he starts hiding in his room.” etc.

the thing about writing ANYTHING is not to lose momentum, not to get stuck in what novelist robert pirsig called “a gumption trap.” or, as alec baldwin’s character says in glengarry glen ross: always be closing. keep moving! don’t sit in one place too long or you really will get stuck. if you find yourself fussing with a paragraph, or adding more to a scene when you didn’t mean to add more instead of stopping and moving on, or pacing around the house irritated with yourself, drink a lot of very cold water and then SKIP.

skip to the part where you know what happens. if you don’t know what happens, either go for a long walk and think about what exactly Han Juwon or Naruto or Bob the Builder or Taylor Swift or Viktor Nikiforov or Wang Meng or whomstthefuckever would do/say in this situation. after about 15-20 minutes i’m usually either turning around to go home and write it down, or giving myself complicate mnemonics based on trees and street signs, so i have a chance of remembering what i just realized absolutely has to happen next in the story.

in conclusion:

1. [TK!] [square brackets are your friends!] [you can use them!] [to skip ahead!] [and leave a stuck spot BYYYYYEEEE hit da bricks] [and just go to a more pleasant spot where there’s a shady tree and some soft green grass to lie on]

2. …and then later when you take another pass through the document, on some day when you’re mentally fresher and maybe you haven’t read it for a couple days, you’ll find yourself adding a few sentences. or one sentence. or some words. it’s fine. it’s all fine. look we can’t all be out here writing a million words a year. some people do, sure. as writer annie dillard says, some people eat cars. but if you want to write something with some bite to it, some texture and grit and heft, you’re gonna endure some tortuous slowness and a lot of [TK]. so best start getting real comfortable with that now. if you wanted an easy hobby i have some difficult news for you, you picked the wrong fucking one.

3. the reward for your patience with yourself and your writing process will be all those times when you’re driving, showering, cooking, and/or DMing with bestie, and suddenly What's About To Happen Next will hit you like a bolt of lightning and nearly scalp you in the process. holy shit, you’ll say to yourself, stunned. i now know exactly who’s coming through the door with huang wei and it’s not at all who i thought it was. (this jolt of electricity is why people are pantsers, by the way. we suffer through our own cluelessness for an eternity, just to have that one shocking moment of godlike clarity. the crash usually sucks but the high is unbelievable.) (and i say this, but i always have an outline. i just usually mostly ignore it, because apparently my continued survival is predicated on the fact that imaginary people talk in my head and i just write down what they say.)

4. finally i have ABSOLUTELY written fics of every length just to get to One Particular Scene which i wrote first. i wrote the ending of my current long wip really early on, and everything leading up to it has just been me trying to figure out: okay, so what’s it going to take to get them there? in the words of george w. bush, whom i am not much given to quoting, you are the decider. you can decide to write your fic backwards if you want to! write C first and then go back and add B and at the very end A! no one will ever know, it’s between you and your drafts. then you can do what i do, and write an excessively long nervous a/n about it all, when you post.

this got long but tldr just remember: [tk]. love you have fun writing!!! <3 <3

[constantfragmentation]

It's bugging me...

The inconsistencies and a lack of detail and continuity in S2. S1 was all about the tiniest details.

Don't get me wrong, the animation is gorgeous, BUT --

The underwater scene is where Jinx lets Silco go.

He was RIDDLED with bullets. Yet, not a mark on him?

Why is his damaged eye closed? I thought he didn't have an eyelid. Artistically, I think having his lifeless eyes glazed over would have been more dramatic, considering it's Silco. Nah, he just sinks like Jack to the depths of the Titanic.

How deep IS the Pilt River?? I'm assuming that's where she 'buried' him.

The whole first act is so damn rushed.

No one seems to wonder what happened to Silco? He was only the main person holding the Underground together by the strands of his pomade hair. His death is a BIG deal, yet it's glossed over. No one questioned any of it???

Sevika is just, okay, let's move on like it's another day (granted, Zaunites are probably predisposed to be like that, but that doesn't make for good storytelling if you're not letting the audience in on anything), and chatting it up with Jinx as if they just bonded. I didn't feel that happen. I like that they low-key ripped into him post mortem, because that feels natural but what got them in that room together DOESN'T.

I want to know how these characters FEEL. You got that in spades during S1. But S2 is just expecting you to assume or they would attempt to take the time to use what would be great writing and evolving these characters.

Caitlin is hurting, I get it. But she went full Commando Psycho mode. Girl, everyone has lost parents, siblings, etc... She doesn't even flinch when Vi tells her Enforcers killed BOTH her parents. She's lost a beloved sister... but Cait is affronted when Vi shirks from becoming an Enforcer. Let's just forget what PIltover did to Zaun for generations and to LOADS of people.

Vi? Oh girl. What happened to you?

Jinx is a bit better but not much. I don't buy Silco's death was a zap to the brain to chill her out a bit. She's still my Chaos Queen but unless there is something to explain some shit in the following episodes, I'm going to be really ticked at the lack of care in characterizations with who are the supposed leads in this story.

Jesus Viktor. That's it. That's all I got.

Well, I did LOL when he woke up and gave Jayce the "bye Felicia" in 2.2 seconds.

We don't get to know what Ekko is thinking since all this shit went down? As far as he knows, Jinx is dead and to learn to she bombed Piltover?

The music videos substituting for the plot are REALLY bugging me. It's lazy writing. The music was used well in S1 to ENHANCE the scene (well, except for giving Imagine Dragons an animated cameo). Here, it's used as exposition, but it's not nearly good enough.

Useless characters and side-characters. Poorly executed plot devices. Uninteresting plot devices and trying to use the S1 parallels for characterizations.

S1 took time to introduce and flesh out these characters, even the side-characters.

We only had Vander for 3 episodes but he was a HUGE character. Marcus, Mylo, Claggor, Benzo, Grayson, Finn.... all were interesting and played an important part.

Jayce continues to be blah. So I'm not bothered.

Ambessa looks to be the new villain but it's not hitting with me. Plus, there's zero foreshadowing on some stuff in her arc that would have been useful last season.

I like Mel but I'm waiting to see what happens with her.

Hermydingding going all Mission Impossible. Just stop. Does he not give two furry fucks about what happened to his fellow councilmembers and Piltover?

I feel like RIot is trying to shove way too much into one season and sacrificing good story-telling to do it.

I miss the details.

So far, I'm really underwhelmed with this season.

[scoops404]

Scoops' Fics of 2024

It's that time of year again! The time for me to rank my own fics for the last year in order from my least favorite to most favorite. I only considered fics I wrote entirely myself, so you won't see an honest living in here because that was almost 50/50 written with Dizzy! (but you should definitely go check it out!)

This year I only had two novel length fics because I was supposed to be focusing on original work (oops). I had a heck of a summer with my bingo fills. There's definitely recency bias at play here, but that's just how it goes sometimes. Let me know if you agree/disagree :D

See the Elephant - T - this one was written for a fic fest that ended up getting canceled because of the grituation. I had already written the entire thing and it had to be T because the artists were going to post their work. If I had known it would be canceled, I would have had them doing the freaknasty. This was after I had already planned out and written a fic before new boundaries dropped in November (see Circling Back). Basically, this fic fest was never meant to be, I suppose. I was starting to think I was a curse. Oh, but the fic itself is a soulmate AU and kinda angsty and has a hospital scene. 0 horse mentions.

Merry Men Making Merry - T - This was written for Fairy Tales from the SMP - the first and only successful fanfiction event I've completed all the way through (it's never me dropping out btw, it's always the event getting canceled). Anyway I got my first choice of fairy tale, which was Robin Hood, and I put a fun spin on it. The art with this fic was gorgeous!! A very different type of fic for me and it stretched some writing muscles I didn't know I had. Secret identity and identity reveal, some of my favorite tropes. 4 horse mentions.

Move to Florida, buy the car you want - E - the first of my bingo fics. It turns out I am bad at being brief. Anyway, DNF get together and semi-roadhead and I dunno, it's cute. I wrote most of this fic free hand in my note book at my work desk because fuck capitalism. I just checked, the prompt was "late night care rides" which checks out. 0 horse mentions

Someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts (croptop) - E - this is the one from the middle of June about crop tops that was also written for bingo. I dunno. It's cute enough. 0 horse mentions.

Everyone understands why it’s mean to be (a/b/o phone call) - T - this one is funny because I didn't even bother saying what the prompt was in the author's notes, but I think it was a/b/o. This one was fun to write because it was basically a nod to the 2021 fandom and where we were, and where DNF were -- waiting on that damn visa. Like going back in time and writing a fic. 1 horse mention.

Can I Use You Up - E - I really had fun writing this one. It has fun Dreateam dynamics and then a really intense sex scene and the dichotomy of both of those things in one fic -- and short (for me), at that! impressive. 0 horse mentions.

Circling Back - E - this fic is fun and wild. I got to write co-workers to lovers that is also hidden/secret identity -- and it works! WILD! I re-read this one recently and it stands up. This was originally written for that first fic fest i was talking about and when they changed it for the new boundaries for art, I couldn't have any smut and the whole plot kind of hinged around the smut, so... I decided to just write it as it is. ALSO this is the first fic that Chelsey beta'd, I think. So that's fun! And it was the first fic of the year (not counting Hits Different which wrapped up in January). 0 horse mentions.

Just to do experiments on - E - Yall, if you had told me that I would write tentacle porn, I would have laughed at you. Extra has been trying to get me to write tentacles for YEARS and then it came up on my bingo card and I felt like I finally had to bite the bullet and do it. Except, I actually really love how it turned out? This bingo prompt was tentacles, obviously, but also cursed by a witch. A twofer, if you will. 0 horse mentions.

Let Me Familiarize You - E - here's some Scoops lore. I wrote this fic in two sitting and it is 13K, so that's wild!!! It took me two days in the time after my surgery but before I could go back to work to write this (in between writing the beginnings of Two Fools and another story that I haven't and won't publish lol). Anyway, it's about witch!George accidentally making Patches his familiar and then coming clean to Dream and also his mom is there. And then literally that same day, George dropped a video with his mom. Crazy pants. (or maybe it was the day before when this was all written? Can't remember. Also I was on pain pills). I really like how it turned out. It's a fun premise! 0 horse mentions.

Puzzle pieces in the dead of night - T - another bingo fic, the prompt was pirates. Anyway, I had a BLAST writing this one. Secret identity, kidnapping, munchy mc dynamics, I really like writing action adventurey fics and this one feel right into that category. A fun read, in my opinion. 0 horse mentions.

I’m Having His Baby (No, I’m Not) - E - a bingo fic, the prompt was "mpreg, but abortion" because the person who made the boards *ahem* doesn't like pregnancy stuff and wanted to punish me (lightheartedly lol). Anyway, joke is on her, because I made this into an epic story and I had so much fun writing it. Like, laughing out loud to myself while writing it, which is kinda sad, but is also the point of fanfiction. You have to entertain yourself first and foremost. And also I snuck eventual mpreg in there anyway so haha! for real, though, if you think the premise of this one is weird -- Dream and George accompany Sapnap on a roadtrip to Colorado to get his abortion -- you should try it out anyway. 1 horse mention, and arguably the one that brought it to our good anon's attention.

Anagnorisis - E - speaking of mpreg, LMAOOOOOO. My "I didn't know I was pregnant" AU with Angst and miscommunication and domesticity and last minute flights to London and a baby named after the lead singer of Glass Animals. This fic has a lot! I wrote a lot about the beginning of this fic on Tumblr and kind of how I begin writing fics. Here Anyway, pretty proud of this fic. I had to ask my mom a lot of questions about NICU. 3 horse mentions.

I Am Two Fools - E - every year the last novel length fic of the year seems to be in the top spot. No Exception this year. This fic was very tough to write, but very rewarding. I think it taught me a lot about making sure character motivations are fleshed out and make sense. It, and Anagnorisis, taught me about trusting the reader and dropping hints at things. Yall got So Good at catching hints and making molehills out of anthills, as intended. I took a chance and switched up POV halfway through, which is almost never do. And I think that really helped me stretch my writing muscles as well as all the bingo fics. Very proud of the work I did on this fic. 0 horse mentions.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 01/28/2025

is this little bulleted preview helpful or does it make people less likely to click the readmore? a question i could answer if i went back to college for marketing. not a question but a comment, this one has the biggest range of dates in published works out of all the tuesdayposts

listening: Make a Man Out of You (2023, Vienna Vienna)

reading: Third Man Out (1992, Richard Lipez writing as Richard Stevenson)

watching: Automatic Moving Company (1912, dir. Bosetti)

playing: Behind the Frame: The Finest Scenery (2021, mobile/PC/Switch/Playstation, Silver Lining Studio)

making: cross stitch

listening

i was served an ad for a forthcoming single by the artist Vienna Vienna on instagram and promptly listened to all his shit. yet another banger for the SOMEBODY COME FUCK THIS (GAY) playlist.

ex-religious alt-rock, self-described "glimmer rock". he's signed to pete wentz of fall out boy's label, pete wentz is a surprisingly good interviewer? very minimal input from the actual interviewer lol

Boxes be damned, Vienna Vienna revels in his own iteration of alt-rock — a genre he’s deemed “glimmer rock.” The result is a cathartic exercise in self-actualization as much as it is about a literal “glimmer” of light. Vienna Vienna’s sound is melody-forward, built on a foundation of shimmering reverb, electric guitar riffs full of personality, and juicy hooks lathered in witty playfulness, and ultimately, empowerment. ... VIENNA VIENNA: At its core, glimmer rock is about shared catharsis and a loud fucking show, like a really loud show where you can really express yourself and let out whatever's been holding you back — while leaning into the theater of it all, being dramatic because it's fun and campy. It's a good time, and it's a healing thing to express emotions completely. And it’s a great opportunity, onstage, to present it as glimmer rock and share this idea that you're catching hold of a glimmer, this special light at the end of a tunnel. You can see yourself, you can feel yourself — while doing it very loudly.

-

reading

the actual physical experience of reading this book was very pleasant: curled up on the couch under the strawberry blanket while it was raining, listening to ethopian jazz. it was so nice to actually read an enjoyable book. i feel like i've been in a little bit of a rut.

NOT an erotica novel this time, just a fun little noir murder mystery with an outsider private detective!

Which powerful mystery man killed the gay activist for outing him? After an attempt is made on his life, Queer Nation activist John Rutka asks tough-as-nails gay private detective Don Strachey to provide him with protection. Why does someone want to kill him? The activist's efforts at outing closeted gay homophobes have earned him a multitude of enraged enemies who would just as soon see him dead. After Strachey refuses to help, the man's body is found savagely murdered in apparent retribution for his deeds. Now, because of this, the reluctant Strachey feels obligated to investigate. Third Man Out brings back one of the most popular gay heroes in mystery fiction, Don Strachey, a private investigator as hard-boiled as they come, along with his lover, Tim Callahan, in a topical and very entertaining mystery dealing with the ethical issues of outing.

Third Man Out by Richard Lipez writing as Richard Stevenson was originally published in 1992, and my 2007 reprint is a movie tie-in. 173p, a softcover of middling quality. the cover is much glossier than most of the gay and lesbian novels on my shelf. must be that hollywood money kicking around.

both a fun frontispiece and a very helpful author's note. haworth press started early with publishing LGBTQ+ academic studies, and they had both gay men's and lesbian fiction imprints. available on the internet archive, i'm fairly certain i bought this one up in ct before i moved.

no on-page or fade to black sex scenes: this is just a briskly plotted murder mystery, fourth in a sixteen-book and four-movie series. i will be searching out more of these books, most of which seem to be on the internet archive thank god.

i would call it a capable modern noir: deeply concerned with ways and means, hypocrisy, bribes, government corruption, and a bumbling homme fatale. the final scene is at an airport for christ's sake. this is also a rare LGBTQ+ book where it could never be a straight book: it is too entwined in ethical issues specific to the community. i feel like a lot of the more modern LGBTQ+ debut novels ive bounced off are those where the characters feel coincidentally gay, or genderswapped from a straight romance. not so here! i need to read more books by cranky old gay men who have already written a zillion books!

I lived behind masks for much of my early life, and what this does to people’s psyches interests and frightens me. I think one reason I loved John LeCarre’s early spy novels was that his protagonists led double lives out of patriotism and not for reasons of shame or social embarrassment. Of course, it was more complicated than that for LeCarre’s characters, just as it’s not all bad for closeted gay people. Leading secret lives sometimes has a kind of romance to it too. But overall the closet is self-destructive.

this book is snappy: it manages to jam a lot of stuff in 178 pages. the dialogue between don and his partner timmy is particularly good: they feel like a real couple who loves each other to death but also gets frustrated, have inside jokes, have a routine and are there for each other.

very dryly funny in general and about the general albany NY region. i have spent so many thanksgivings out that way bc my favorite roommate's parents live there and i have heard so many of the exact same complaints from her and her parents lmao

-

watching

using up some kanopy credits on a series of early short film and early remakes of early short film. Automatic Moving Company (1912, dir. Bosetti) is the remake i prefer bc i think the stop-motion is better-- there's a bounciness and verve to it. crazy how the only real "tell" of scale is the straw

-

playing

THE most chobani hopepunk commerical game i have ever played, Behind the Frame: The Finest Scenery (2021, Silver Lining Studio out of Taiwan, originally a mobile game) is free until thurs morning CST on epic.

Guide brush strokes and solve a variety of puzzles to help an aspiring artist complete her masterpiece amid her brusque neighbor’s gaze and his pesky cat. As her painting starts to take shape, uncover an emotional tale of chance and artistry revealed behind unrelated yet familiar moments.

i didn't like this hand-animated two-hour point and click adventure game very much. it's cute and it's pretty but the storytelling is very muddy. i don't think their outsourced translation service (probably through Akapura, their publisher) did them any favors. all of the dialogue and flavor text is like that, so it's good they leaned into a lot of dialogue-less cutscenes.

this interview with one of the artists reveals they had a eight-person team, which seems kind of large for something that started out as a mobile game? it also has some helpful info about what they were going for.

What led you to become a Game Developer / Marketer? This decision came down on a simple question, which also motivated us to develop games in the first place. What would I rather do in a 90 minutes break? After collecting all the opinions on this topic from members at that time, we decided to combine three shared activities that we like to do during the break: see a movie, read a novel, and play a game. We want to make games that would let players have it all. ... Stories are the heart of our games. Behind the Frame is a narrative-driven game with escape room coating. Aside from the main storyline, which we hope would touch the players, we also have some breakthroughs on the display of the game scene. We adopted 2D 360°panorama for the presentation of several main scenes.

i do think the uniqueness of the 2D 360 panorama and pulling that tech from virtual museum and house tours does serve them well. they really only had to build out two areas, and the rest is traditional flat visual-novel scenes. however, this mechanic also really hurt their storytelling, bc such care is taken with the little clickable info boxes about many of the things in the apartment that it's really jarring when it jumps to a weird magical time nonsense thing? there is such a persistence of your actions on the world and the ability for outside factors to change your apartment (cat walking through paint, etc), and everything is very modern including the clothes, so it's never clear what's a flashback and what isn't. when you get to the end, the original framing device of amnesia just makes it seem like the protagonist is suffering from alzheimer's. i think something so focused on memory chose a very strange framing device, but unfortunately the framing device is The Whole Game.

i think they accomplished their goal (escape room with fun but not challenging puzzles you can finish in two lunch breaks). i love a short, self-contained story, but i think $15-$30 full-price is kind of steep for something with very little replay value. ported to steam and playstation, which is pretty good for a mobile game. can't be mad at a small team making at least their money back, the hand animated cutscenes were very pretty, i just wish the actual narrative was clearer

-

making

the first and last time this little wall hanging project will appear, bc instead of farm animals i am going to put some very doxxable items for a friend's birthday. got this cross stitch book as part of an 8/$1 sale bc i liked some of the alphabets and did not really expect to stitch anything else out of it but hey! sometimes you need some frames that look like they came ripped out of a 90s wendys fast food restaurant interior

[writings-ofthe-heart]

I don’t think we’ve really interacted before, but you seem chill! Every time I see a post about or watch Community I think of ur blog lol

Speaking of Community? May I request some Abed Nadir headcanons? They can platonic or romantic, you have the creativity liberty here I’m sure I’ll enjoy whatever you write

Hi anon thank you :3 this was so long ago but i appreciate it!!

it makes me so joyous u think of my blog with community XD

YES! I'M SO HAPPY ALMOST NONE OF MY REQUESTS ASKED FOR COMMUNITY OR ABED... I actually wrote a little fic intro for abed so i'll post it xd as well as the headcanons right now ;)

Also you can take this as romantic or platonic whichever u feel best :)

hope you do end up enjoying my (very late) writing!

Abed Nadir x Reader (romantic/platonic) 𓂃⋆.˚

ʚ When he first saw you, introducing yourself as the new club president of the Films and Media club, it was like something clicked in his head.

ʚ Because, yes, of course. It had to be you. There wasn't any way out of the matter.

ʚ That led to weeks and weeks of planning, plotting, he had never been so stressed about something other than films.

ʚ Even Troy had started to worry.

Troy put a hand on Abed's shoulder, while he was typing away on his laptop. "Dude, it's been six hours, I think you should just go up to them. Or maybe find a club they're in."

That was precisely the problem. You were in his films and media club. The club president as well! It was torture having to go every Thursday and stare at you. Stare as you talked, so passionately, it made him want to weep. Abed started to wring his hands out as he turned to Troy.

"I can't. What if they ignore me? Or even worse they laugh in my face? Or they could dismiss me like I'm a Vruvian. Even worse than that could be they could light me on fire. Hm." He listed the reasons of his concern, with the slightest emotion. Troy shook his head.

"Man. You gotta figure it out. You like them right? You wanna talk to them?"

Abed nodded repeatedly.

"Suggest the next movie for the club. I guarantee it will be nothing but net!" Troy laughed, amused by himself as he tossed an invisible basketball into an invisible net.

Abed only swiveled back to his laptop, humming in thought.

ʚ Only after that week, had he settled on actually talking to you. He wasn't sure what he was feeling for you but he had to snuff it out.

ʚ It had been the second last meeting of the fall semester, and as you quietly put away the DVDs and packed your bag, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

ʚ Abed was sweated bullets, he could hear his heartbeat in his ears and it really, really freaked him out.

"Oh, hey! Something you need help with?"

Abed stood there, staring for a minute.. or five.

You smiled at him, you could see the gears turning or, well, trying to turn in his head. It was just a buffering moment.

"Can I suggest a movie for the last meeting?" He managed to spit out the sentence without melting into molten lava.

"Uh, yeah! Of course! Let me write that down though." You quickly pulled out a notepad from your bookbag and flipped it to a new page. "Go ahead."

ʚ He could not keep his mouth shut after that. He had suggested Cougar Town which meant that well, let's just say you ended up walking out together.

ʚ Very late at night, you could add.

ʚ Abed seemed to be sucked into a parallel world of Cougar Town, but you didn't mind.

ʚ It ended up being the most interesting conversation you've had with a peer.

ʚ He walked you to your car and waved goodbye as you pulled out and drove away.

His legs felt like jelly and he really couldn't pinpoint the reason why. Of course, until he got home and Troy saw the state of him.

"Damn man, were they really that awesome to talk to?"

[shiftingparadise]

Dabi x Reader: Did you make a deal with the devil?

Hi guys, I hope you like this one. I really enjoyed writing this. Enjoy reading 🤍✨

Word count: 1866

Warnings: none

“Where’s she?”. Dabi seemed unusually paranoid. His eyes were wide open and his chest heaving up and down as he tried to hold himself straight against the door he just swung open. “I don’t know-“. Shigaraki didn’t get to finish his sentence as Dabi raised his voice, “You promised me she wouldn’t get hurt”, Dabi took a step closer,  drops of blood dripping down his eyes. “She got in the way”. “I told you she would. I told you she’d try and protect those damn heroes”. “Why does it matter? She doesn’t care about you. She hates you-“. “I don’t care”, Dabi raised his voice yet again as anger clouded his judgment, “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt her”. 

Dabi watched as his ‘boss’ stirred his drink, an uninterested sigh before Shigaraki finally looked up at him.

“She’s staying in the Jaku General Hospital. One of the nurses told our informant she’ll be fine”. Dabi slowly relaxed his fists, his eyes lowering a bit as he put on his unbothered mask again. “Her quirk, however, is gone”. “What do you mean?”, his heart started to race again. 

Dabi knew how much your quirk meant to you, and to him. You looked so beautiful when your angelic wings appeared; when that godlike glow hovered over you as you spread your wings. You were the epitome of good. You were always protecting others with your wings that could catch bullets and hold back the hottest of fires, … You were an angel sent to him, an angel that showed him maybe even he could become someone better; something more. 

“Her wings”, Shigaraki closed and opened his fists, “I touched them when she jumped in front of Deku. I thought I fucked up, thought she’d die but, apparently, only her wings disintegrated”. “You what?”, Dabi tilted his head, blue flames emerging from his hands. “It wasn’t my fault. I wanted to hit that brat”, Shigaraki sighed, “She just suddenly appeared in front of me, I didn’t see her coming. You know I promised you I wouldn’t hurt her”. 

Dabi tried to process what had happened and - as he studied Shigaraki’s behaviour - concluded that he wasn’t lying. Even that brute was mesmerized by your quirk. He asked Dabi multiple times to try and recruit you, but Dabi would never do something as idiotic. You were an angel with your whole life before you, not some lowlife scum who had nothing better to do than plot your revenge against the world. 

---

He told himself he wouldn’t visit you, that he wouldn’t disrupt your much-needed space, but he couldn’t stay away. Dabi gently opened your door. The moonlight manifested through the curtains on your sheets with different stripes; giving him barely enough clarity to see your broken figure. He hated himself for this. He should’ve been there to protect you, even if you hated him, even if Shigaraki would get mad at him…

“Who’s there?”, your broken voice tore through the silence. Dabi froze as he noticed you didn’t even bother to look who was there. “Just kill me, please”, you whispered, “Whoever you are, you’re doing me a service”. “

His heart shattered at your request. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how you must feel now your quirk was gone. 

“You know I can’t”, he tried to sound as kind as he possibly could. “What are you doing here?”. “I wanted to check up on you”. “Check up on me?”, you chuckled as your gaze was focused on the flowers beside your bed. “I’m doing fine. Thank you”. “Why do you do this?”, Dabi walked toward the flowers, “Why do you push me away?”. “Because I hate you”, you watched as his burned fingers flicked through the flowers, as if he was browsing through some magazines. “You don’t hate me”, he chuckled, “You hate how I make you feel. Isn’t that right, doll?”. 

His eyes studied your face. He knew you weren’t going to answer. You were too stubborn to give in to your feelings. He knew that. After all, you only came to him when you had nowhere else to go. When your little hero friends were too busy saving the day instead of you. Because you needed to be saved too. From yourself. There were times when you couldn’t get out of your bed; when you couldn’t even stand to see anyone else other than him. 

“Leave”, your voice cracked. “Like everyone else?”, his rough digit brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Where are your friends now? When you need them the most? Where were they when you needed someone to protect you?”. 

You, once again, stayed silent. He was right. Where was Aizawa? Where was All Might? Or even Kayama? 

“Don’t touch me”, you turned onto your other side. 

Dabi’s eyes widened. He could see the bandages wrapped around your entire body. There were only traces left of your wings, ones which you didn’t seem to get rid of. He hated to see you like this. It hurt him more than he would care to admit. 

“The nurse said they’ll fall off eventually”, you said as you heard a soft gasp, “I don’t have any control over them anymore”. “I see”, his nails pressed into the palm of his hand. “Now get out”, you never sounded so cold before.

“I don’t want to leave”. 

He started to get a bit angry. After all, he only was good enough for you when you needed him. But what about him? What about the times he needed someone? You were always making demands; telling him how much you hated him, but when push came to shove you were always crying into his arms. Always begging him to never leave you, only to push him away again.

“Leave or I’ll call the police”. “Fine”, he clenched his jaw, “Always what the princess wants. Do you even care what I want?”. “No”, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “Right”, Dabi chuckled, “Of course. I’m only a villain, right? The beauty can’t be seen with the beast… How silly I was to think I meant anything to you-“. “How silly indeed”, you coldly added.

Your words felt like bullets to him. You always knew how to pierce through his rough skin, right into his heart. 

After that night, Dabi hadn’t heard from you. He kept his eye on you though. Every so often tracking you, trying to see what you were up to, but it seemed you barely left your house anymore. Likewise, anyone barely ever visited. It seemed you had isolated yourself. Even to him. 

--- 

You were watching TV as a live broadcast interrupted your show. You could see, what seemed like a couple of members of the League of Villains fighting against some pro heroes.

 “Dabi��, you widened your eyes as you placed your cup of noodles on the floor next to you. He was standing on top of a roof, blue flames surrounding him. From what you could see, blood was dripping down his entire body. He was tired. His body was giving up on him. 

You didn’t know why you got up and dressed yourself in a hurry, or why there was a fire in your heart, but you felt the need to protect him. Even without your quirk. 

“Shit”, you placed your hand in front of the sun. Your eyes weren’t used to that much sunlight anymore. You only went outside when it was entirely necessary. The paparazzi in front of your door made you so anxious during the first couple of months that you stopped going outside altogether. 

You ran through the city, ignoring the sirens around you. 

“H-huh?”, you froze as you felt a police officer holding you back. “I’m sorry”, he looked at you, “Only pro heroes can-“. 

Your heart sank to your stomach. He was right. You weren’t a pro hero anymore. What were you going to do? Besides, you wanted to protect a criminal. What were you thinking? 

“Dabi-“, your eyes shot upwards as you heard his laugh. He was standing before the building now, his hand on his face as blood dripped onto the concrete ground. “Dabi!”, you raised your voice as you noticed Aizawa’s bandages shooting through the sky. 

You didn’t know how, but within a flash, you were standing before Dabi. Tears in your eyes at the thought he might get hurt. 

“Y/N?”, his eyes went round as he noticed your sudden appearance, “Y-your wings-“. “M-my wings?”, you looked to the side, your voice shaking. 

God, you used to be beautiful with your white wings but now… 

Wings as dark as the night had emerged from your back, even bigger than your white ones used to be. The golden glow that made you look like an angel was replaced with flames engulfing your entire wings. Burning feathers dropped to the ground as you gently shook them. 

“My wings-“, you looked at Dabi, a smile on your face. “What are you doing?!”, Aizawa shouted from behind you, “Get out of the way! Dabi’s dangerous-“. “Where were you?”, you looked over your shoulders at your former friend. “W-what?”, Aizawa narrowed his eyes in confusion. “What kind of friends, huh?”, you chuckled as you slowly turned around, lowering your wings. “I’ve been rotting inside my home, all by myself. You didn’t even bother to visit-“. “This isn’t the right moment-“, Aizawa tried to interrupt but you wouldn’t let him. “You’re going to pay”, you softly chuckled, “All your so-called pro heroes… You’re all rotten from the inside. You don’t care about anyone other than yourselves”. 

Dabi stayed quiet. He didn’t recognize you, but he liked the new you. You seemed more powerful than ever; even more beautiful than he could ever imagine.

“We’ll make them pay, won’t we doll?”, his hand on your back. “Hm”, your eyes fixed on Aizawa, “We will”. 

You opened your wings again before you released your new quirk. Within seconds, the street was filled with orange and blue flames, making it perfect to escape.

“My, my, my”, Dabi let out a low chuckle as he entered the headquarters of the League, “Did you make a deal with the devil?”.

You smirked, “I am the devil”. 

Dabi would lie if he said he wasn’t scared of you right now. You were nothing like the girl he used to know. You were once a source of light, but now, only darkness seemed to surround you.

“That’s my doll”, he shook his head as he moved closer; his rough hands cupping your cheeks. “Without you, I would’ve been dead by now”. “I know”, you softly grabbed his wrist, “I couldn’t stand the thought”. “You wanted to protect me, even without a quirk? Am I that special?”, a devilish smirk on his face. 

“You are”, you smiled before you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, “You always were”. 

Dabi closed his eyes as he felt your lips against his, a gentle flutter inside his stomach. All the nights you pushed him away, every time you pretended to ignore his existence… They were all worth it. You were his doll, his little devil that he couldn’t live without. 

[luckyladylily]

Seeing as you are a renowned dune-hater, what do you think of the lore for the new dune game? The entire game is supposedly just a dream from when the protagonist got super high and passed out.

I had not heard of this game before now, at least not in any way that actually registered in my memory, so this is based on what you said above and about 2 minutes of research because I am incapable of thinking about Dune for any length of time without being a massive hater about it and I just don't have the energy today to actually write out a 1000 word essay on how Dune is cartoonishly racist, so brief thoughts:

If nothing else it's extremely on brand. Paul absolutely would induce a drug enhanced fever dream to meditate on the question of "what if my life was an MMO?" Drug enhanced prophecy dreams are kinda his thing. This is the bullshit I expect from Dune, but it's also really funny in a "this is incredibly stupid" sort of way. No one can claim it doesn't carry forward the spirit of Dune.

Now, because I can't help myself, here is the abridged bullet point version of the Dune is cartoonishly racist essay I outlined while in the shower:

If you are wondering, this connects to the game because we can ask when would Paul have his druggy mmo dream and there is actually a clear answer.

Before we continue, I am going to be actually mean about Dune, and I want to give my disclaimer that I don't think anyone who likes it is bad or stupid or has bad taste. We all have our problematic faves, I know I do.

Near the end of the first book Paul has a druggy dream about the future where the fremen (FREE MEN, GET IT!?) go on a genocidal "jihad" (yes it uses the word jihad) because Paul was too awesome and they are super blood thirsty people.

Paul tries to use his future seeing powers to find *any* timeline where the fremen don't go on their, sigh, jihad. (This is where he might have asked the question of what if he had never existed.) He fails because there is literally no timeline where the fremen don't get their genocide on. Literally nothing he can say or do as their messiah and living prophet to convince them that maybe genocide is bad, because they are just too bloodthirsty.

Now I want to make something clear, the plot of Dune is "what if a white teenager was isekaied into the middle east and was so awesome that all the barbaric brown people made him their god?"

The fremen are a direct stand in for a 1960s caricature of of what people from the middle east are like. They live in caves, the very first thing Paul has to do when he meets them is have a knife fight to the death to determine if he is worthy to join the tribe, they are absurdly violent almost to a man. It is the epitome of the noble brown barbarian trope.

It is a critical plot point in the series that the noble brown barbarians are so bloodthirsty that their messiah in the flesh can't dissuade them from galactic scale genocide. Wait, excuse me, I mean "jihad".

Unable to save themselves because we need our white savior to do that, but once empowered by a white man it is impossible to dissuade them from genocide.

That's just how it's racist in the widest possible lens, its very racist in the details too. And look, I get why people like Dune. When it's on point Dune fucks hard. Walk without rhythm, fear is the mind killer, kick ass knife fights, these things are all awesome. But I cannot get past shit like this! A fucking jihad. God damn it Frank.

[ivy-plays]

Ik I already did one request but I love ur posts sooooo can u pretty please do like blitzo and anyone u wanna add headcannons what there like during ✨spicy✨🥵🌶️time and if u don’t do nsfw that’s ok just some dating headcannons thank uuuuuuu

Here’s a meme for your time

Of course dear! It won't be too explicit bc we'll. I'm not used to writing anything explicit but this is right in my skill set lol. And thank you for the meme! I now want dinosaur ravioli 😔

Plot: request

Raiting: 16+/m

Reader: gn bc y'all know why lol

Style: head cannon/ bullet points

Warnings: like. 1 cuss word I think but the whole second half is spicy head cannons so. Read at your own descrrssion I'm not your mama and can't tell you what to do

I'm just doing Blitzø in this one bc I haven't written anything like this before so I want to make sure it's well received before I write for everyone else lol.

Blitzø:

Basic relationship stuff:

Very chaotic

And I mean VERY

You would naturally probably work for him either after or before y'all become a couple.thats up for you to decide.

Like Loona, he wouldn't yell at you or blame you when something goes wrong on a job .

And speaking of when y'all are on jobs he always has an eye on you and tries to stay close to you,not because he doesn't think you would be able to defend yourself. He definitely knows you can.

(which may or may not turn him on . Anyway)

He just is protective of the things and people he loves due to being afraid to lose anyone else he cares about.

You have to sit through his hours long rants about horses and his..."research" ....

You become another parent to Loona. (Who she likes slightly more and y'all laugh at how pissed off Blitzø gets about it lol)

It would be Blitzø and you who went to go steal Stolaz grimware (or however tf you spell it idk man)

Blitzø was very hesitant when it came to the whole sleeping with Stolaz thing ,but you told him you didn't care bc you knew that he didn't have feelings for the owl. (Yet)

Stolaz would probably rope you into the deal as well bc mmmm plot

Anyway.

Being in a relationship with Blitzø will be chaotic and challenging at times. (Like when he starts to doubt himself and whether or not he's good enough for you. Good enough to be happy.) But. You're always there for each other and it all works out in the end.

(I also think in the end you two would bring Stolaz into your relationship after the both of y'all realized you had feelings for the owl and talked it over with each other before bringing the idea to Stolaz)

Now. ✨Le spicy bits ✨

SIR KINK

I really do think Blitzø would have a massive authority kink and would want you to call him sir.

Mans likes to feel in control.

Now on the flip side of that. I do think Blitzø would be a switch but with a heavy preference on being on top.

Like. If you were to beg him enough he might let you top him or if he is tired enough.

But even then he still has some level of control over you and is telling you what to do .

That's just how it is. I don't make the rules lol

I also think (based off of lines said in sertin episodes as well as the pilot) that he would be into bondage and a masochism/saidism.

Definitely prefers to do the tying and not the one to be tied up. Again. He likes to have control.

And be prepared bc mans has a whole stash of shit like whips (of all different shoes and materials.) Gags, many different things to restrain you with. (Handcuffs,rope, sashes, his own hands)

He would also be a big damn tease. Like. I have a feeling Blitzø could get off just off the way you squirm and beg for him to stop messing around and fuck you already.

10/10 would blind fold you.

Throat fucking *cough cough clears throat* what was that??? I didn't hear anything.👀

[lovelywingsart]

//AU// Warning (pt. 1)

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

Yup, you read that right- a two parter! Because I couldn't decide on how to do this. :'D Ah well.

Maybe not the best, but like I said, I'm blowing through these decently easily now! So hopefully there will be more soon! ^^

This one also had a small plot hole but here's hoping Clever Writing™️ covered it up ALSHSGDLAFH-

**Remember, check out the Masterlist for more! <3**

-----

Warnings?: Bargaining, injury, mild mention of child endangerment (might add more later when I'm not completely exhausted ALSJAKSF-)

Summary: A bargain with one father leads to a test of trust with another. From mercy to warnings, the fight for their lives has only just begun; and they have a long way to go.

Emelia fell to her knees with a *thud*, her breaths coming as short, pained wheezes. It hurt... Everything hurt... The bullets that pierced her skin had left her bleeding along with the somewhat healing knife wounds that still throbbed with each beat of her heart, sending her body into shock.

She couldn't. She couldn't fight anymore. If she did, she knew what would happen. If she did, she knew she'd-

Her thoughts were halted as another mix of sounds pricked her ears- sounds that brought instant tears to her eye as she attempted to keep herself still and upright, desperate to allow herself to heal quicker.

Shuffling steps, and a reloaded gun.

She looked up at Ethan, the solemn look on his face giving away his reluctance to pull the trigger his finger currently rested on, even if the gun wasn't facing her entirely.

"... Don't make me do this..." he said quietly, his own voice hoarse from exhaustion and pain.

Suddenly, she broke.

All she could think of... all she could see was her son. His face, his fear, his own worry for his parents even as the place was falling around him.

The father jerked back as she let out a sudden, choked sob.

"... Please..." she managed, her voice weak and wavering despite still being warped. "Please don't hurt him..."

Ethan stared at her, a look of near pity on his face as her body trembled. She didn't want to cry... She didn't want to beg. She didn't want to seem at all weak in front of this man on the off chance he wouldn't let her go- but it was all she could muster up the energy to do. It was all her body and brain would allow with her son at the forefront of her mind.

"... I don't want to." He spoke quietly, his own voice wavering just slightly. "I just want my daughter back."

"And we want freedom...!!" Emelia looked up, her voice holding a scared desperation. "I didn't lie to you, Winters!! I have too much to lose to die by the likes of you...!"

"Then why did you-"

"You were after him!!" She cut him off, choking back another sob. "I can't let you hurt him... We've been hiding long enough, he doesn't deserve this...!"

She stared up at him with a bright eye, tears streaming down her cheek. He glanced at her mutated arm as she finally let her head fall and brought her arms to her face in frustration, slowly lowering the weapon and taking his finger off the trigger. It was a damn near pitiful sight, really... The one who fought him so harshly moments prior curling in on herself in a broken, scared mess. The one who he knew could kill him with ease if he wasn't careful, more so than the others. She was small, but she was strong- far stronger than he expected out of a mere 'assistant', as she claimed to be... Almost enough to be a Lord herself, and he found himself wondering why she wasn't.

He was silent before taking in his own wavering breath.

"Convince him to leave." He said, and she looked at him again. "The place is coming down and Chris may be around... Get the hell out of here because he'll kill you both. I can only do so much to talk to him."

She stared at him once more, though felt a sudden rush of panic once his words settled in her mind.

Go. GO. She had to GO.

Ethan took a few steps back as she suddenly jumped up with a pained sob, nearly tripping on her own feet as she bolted around the corner and out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

Pain.

There was so much pain.

Everything hurt as she ran, through the halls tripping over boxes and tools of fallen Haulers. The scent of her own blood was all she could smell. It was all she could taste as she ran, skidding around corners and falling every now and then as she began to feel lightheaded from exhaustion and blood loss. She was healing, but not fast enough... Her current movement prevented her from relaxing to the point of healing properly, constantly reopening some of the slashes on her body as the movement prevented a majority of the scabbing.

Another turn led to a small corridor in which she could hear small swearing and shuffling; the sounds stopped as she tripped again, letting out a grunting whimper before she stood up. A few more steps brought her to one of the many workshops where she could nearly feel the rage and power ebbing off of the man who turned to her with a shocked expression.

"K-... K-Karl..." she managed, watching his face twist from shock to horror once she came into full view.

"Emmy?!"

He rushed over almost immediately as he spoke, reaching out as she stumbled forward once more and landed in his arms. He held her close as he helped her down carefully, shushing gently as he eased her against the wall. He nearly flinched with every whimper she made, though managed to hide it well... Mostly.

"Karl-" she wheezed, keeping a tight grip on the front of his jacket as she felt his gloved hands grab her face. She winced as he moved her head from side to side, his own panic growing as he took in the damage.

"What the fuck did he do to you?!" He asked near desperately, but she let out a low, pained groan before trying to shift.

"G-... Go... we have to go-"

"I'll fucking kill him-"

"W-We have to-"

She was interrupted by a near enraged snort as he suddenly stood, his mood shift even startling her as his anger made itself known. It didn't take her long to notice the moving metallic objects around them, the smallest screws even vibrating rapidly in their places as the larger pieces gave off waves of his power. Emelia shook her head as he took a step back, pushing herself forward in attempts to stand.

"Karl, please...!!!" she managed, letting out another choked sob. The sound made him freeze as he turned to look at her. "We... We need to go... Please... Where is-"

"I told him to hide." Heisenberg replied quietly, finally returning to kneel in front of her after taking a few breaths. "You two go. I'm taking care of this."

There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as he spoke, and her face fell. She began to shake her head rapidly, reaching for his arm. She couldn't let him go, she couldn't-

"No, nonono- No, come with us, please- PLEASE, Karl-" she nearly begged, more panic rising to her chest with each word. But he remained silent, only leaning down to bring her in a tight hug.

She let another sob escape as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders with pained whimpers, pressing her face to his neck.

"... Run." He whispered suddenly, and she froze.

"Wh-" she tried, stopping as he pulled away enough to press his forehead to hers while more tears streamed down her cheeks. There was a dangerous resolve in his eyes that while she wasn't entirely familiar with, she knew what it was almost immediately-

And it scared the hell out of her.

"I told him to hide... He's in the workshop near the Foundry. Get him and run as fast as you fucking can. Get to the cabin and wait for me."

He spoke sternly and scarily calm, and she didn't have time to reply before he held her face and pressed his lips to hers in a heavy kiss too quick for her to return. But just as quickly as he moved in, he had stood and turned away towards the door.

"I-I-... K-Karl- Karl WAIT-" she begged, only seeing a small hesitation in his movements for a moment before he silently rounded the corner with purpose.

And so she was left alone again, her heart pounding in her ears and throbbing throughout her body. She forced herself to stay immobile for a few seconds, allowing herself to heal enough to even be safe to move. It wasn't long until she sucked in a breath, however, her muscles trembling as she forced herself to stand before suddenly bolting off through another doorway. While her concern for him was overwhelming, she only allowed herself to focus on the new task at hand; The same one she had trusted him with a short time prior, though right now there was much more at stake than she had realized-

She had to find their son, and fast.

[livelymyrtle]

Honestly atp I don’t know how to feel about Lin Manuel Miranda. I don’t want to be in that crowd of the “Hamilton and everything else he does sucks and it’s all awful” because it’s not really true… Hamilton was very good (mostly brought down from excellence by the second act), and I actually quite liked Encanto (aside from the fact that Abuela gets pretty much excused at the end + Disney forced him to do stuff like writing in Isabela). In The Heights I haven’t paid much attention to, but what I saw I remember being good, and I know he has plenty of other gems…

so why is it that I, like so many people, am just not feeling it? Netizens have recently been feeling more meh on him or even begun to hate him. So why this shift in perspective?

I think the sudden scrutiny against LMM has two main components:

1) Overexposure

After Disney has been putting him in everything, which was already after everyone was saturated with Hamilton and ITH stuff, I think people are just getting a bit sick of the man. It’s especially damning for Lin that he tends to make every main character himself, and that he has such a distinctive lyrical style(or rather, he is unwilling to diverge from that style - he wrote How Far I’ll Go for Moana and that was more off par for him). As a result, it just feels like you are watching the same thing over and over and over again with him - and at this point it’s just getting kind of exhausting to see him all the time doing what feels like the exact same thing.

It also probably doesn’t help that he has become associated with Disney just as Disney has begun losing popular favor. Nowadays, they mostly are doing mediocre movies with the exact same plot, characters, art style, aesthetic, and message(basically trying to be Studio Ghibli in plot except that they don’t have the slow pensiveness, nor the understanding of what consumers actually want, nor the desire to create art for art’s sake), and extremely awful live action remakes that literally nobody likes, so Disney’s new stuff has been bleeding popularity like a bullet wound. Now, people think of Lin in the same vein that think of their disappointment with Disney, which is probably not making him look better. I’ve even seen people blame Disney’s negative shift on him, which isn’t really fair, but… I can see why someone would draw that conclusion, you know?

2) More importantly, cultural shift in attitudes.

Post COVID and what I like to call the Reality Exodus, everyone went on their phones, got really depressed and pessimistic, and got really online. I think that this has directly lead to why people are no longer ok with some aspects of LMMs stuff. In 2015-16, we all loved Hamilton: it was an inclusive and fresh new take on US history, something that we were pretty starved of pride in. With the election of Trump, things seemed bleak: but people remained hopeful still that there could be pride in this country. The concept of Miranda only hiring actors of color was also just the right amount of groundbreaking but not too shocking for the culture - we were committed to diversity, but not so much to the point where we wanted truly diverse stories to be told, so the all-POC cast in a very white story was a good way to knock on the glass ceiling without breaking it. The added message of “we are all a part of America” was fitting for the widespread “we don’t see color, everyone is welcome, hakuna matata” brand of anti-racism that was the most widely accepted narrative at the time.

But as we got into COVID, we see In the Heights released. And all of a sudden, the Twitter mob has come out against LMM for… colorism in his casting, of all things??? Casting that was very diverse?? And that he wasn’t even in charge of anyway???

In hindsight the whole Twitter cancellation thing seems ridiculous, but I do think it’s an important example of how much more aware and critical we had gotten as a culture. And I think our new perspectives shifted our views on some of his earlier work, too: namely, Hamilton.

After COVID, a play written by a nonblack man about rapping slave masters (but they are all played by POC) didn’t really seem all that revolutionarily anti-racist. We as a culture had developed our understanding of racial theory to a different, more radical narrative: we should start uplifting the stories of real POC and make actual changes. All of a sudden, LMM’s rooting for diversity just didn’t seem genuine anymore the the culture at large. I think that has played one of the biggest parts in his loss of popular favor.

And that’s where we get to now: I just don’t know what to think. I mean, on the one hand, of course Lin Manuel Miranda does some great stuff artistically. But his art, his messaging, his image in general has become associated with an era of lenient attempts at equality that I just don’t really support. And no, before you think it, this isn’t going to devolve into the regular separation of art and artist stuff. But it is a question of separation: Can we separate the goodness of an art piece from its intent? Can we judge art or media as being good objectively? And how important of a part does messaging play in what makes something “good”?

My answer? I don’t know. I need a cup of tea and a nap. Peace.

[sapphire-weapon]

Ada anon, yes, you're making a lot more sense than I am! In full truth, I'm biased and I'm happy to admit that. I've lived through my own horrendous sexist treatment and the OG arc and the way many fans of the ship hype it up just... gets under my skin. It reminds me so much of a forced "romance", the woman not being viewed as her own person, despite teasing so much excitement and a cool story arc. I'll be cringe and admit here that I find her OG portrayal and how she's treated in fandom spaces a bit triggering. It hits too close to home, and I think that for a very long time I just wanted to project onto this character and watch her "break free" from Aeon and go live her life. She always had this hyge story just on the edge of being told. We see her wnormous potential and independence. How crucial she is to the deeper roots of the plot, but it always only came back to Sexy Leon Accessory and little/nothing more. It hurt to see. That's ridiculous, but it's honest, lol.

Maybe it's an ott reaction and I'm open to hearing that, but you do make a much calmer and logical point, lol. Regardless, I'm excited for what both Separate Ways and other potential remakes (cough cough reboots) might do with the storyline. Not just in terms with redoing Ada and retconning Aeon, but Chris, Wesker, Sheva, Claire!! The future will tell.

Honestly, I find that fandom's attitude towards/portrayal of Ada makes the writing decisions around her seem way worse than they actually are. That's not to say that the writing around her isn't still bad -- it's fucking awful -- but fandom cranks it up to eleven.

Fandom treats Aeon like it's the single most important thing in either Ada or Leon's stories, but it's... not, really.

Leon is a complete afterthought for Ada in both Damnation and RE6.

As much as I dog on Damnation, it's by far the title where I enjoy their dynamic the most. Ada is not there for Leon; Ada is there to work, and Leon just happens to also be there. There's no master plan or grand scheme that she's prepared to rope him in to some dumb bullshit like RE4. He's literally just... there. She doesn't need his help when she gets captured, he doesn't need her help when the bullets start flying. They don't need each other. They are both existing independently and happen to run into each other.

That, I think, is what Capcom always wanted their relationship to be, but Damnation is the only title that actually pulls it off.

And RE6, like... tried to do it, too? While attempting to make it more emotional? But it just sort of came off as Leon spiraling off into a total meltdown that damn near culminates with him breaking from reality all together.

Deadass, I half-expected Ada to have a moment in RE6 where she just turned to Leon and went "This is not about you." She didn't, but she should have. RE6 is Leon sticking his ass into Ada's affairs uninvited, and Ada more or less just being like "okay you can help, I guess, but this really isn't any of your fucking business."

Fandom are the ones over here shouting shit like EVERYTHING ADA DOES IS ALWAYS FOR LEON like dude what the fuck

a. how do you not see that that's not a good thing? and

b. that's not even true???

Like, Ada's writing is still bad and garbage and sexist and racist, but fandom just makes it so much fucking worse.

I think that there's room within the canon material to have an honest, nuanced conversation about Ada's other relationships (Wesker and Simmons), but no one ever cares to talk about that, because Aeon fandom poisoned every single piece of discourse about her.

There is a reason why I have been low-key shipping Ada and Wesker for years. But no one wants to have that conversation. Because people look at Ada, and all they see is Leon. 60% of the reason for that is the writing, for sure, but 40% of it is because of the way Aeon fandom has treated the ship and the character for twenty five fucking years.

[prettybubblesintheair]

I thought I had clicked reblog 🥲 I’m so sorry.

First of all Dolly honey you are becoming one of my fave writers out here, seriously OMFG the way you have with words, scenes, plots, characters, JUST ABSOLUTELY MARVELOUS, I hope you are very extremely proud of yourself bc DAMN you write so f*cking AMAZING.

Now for this story, HOT DAMN, I LOVEEEEEEE DARK!ROMANCE with passion, dark romance is my second name hahahaha, I just love my red flags who are not really red just Barbie pink 😂

So this story, where do I begin, ABSOLUTELY LOVEEEEEEED it HARD, I recently watched OUAT in H for the first time and I was OBSESSED, first of all bc it’s really interesting to see the 70s, also to the ending of Miss Tate (I was crying with the ending, I was so soooo happy Quentin give her that ending and I read why he did it so yes yes yes king) Austin’s performance OMFG, when I tell you he had me on my knees, he looked sooooo f* good.

His voice, his long dark hair, the beard and mustache, his whole COWBOY look, DAAAAAAAMN Quentin whyyyyyyy hahaha, I seriously couldn’t stop thinking about him and about HIM DOING A COWBOY MOVIE, pleaseeeeeee Austin PLEASEEEEE.

So when I found your story and saw IT WAS YOU WHO WROTE IT I literally SCREAMED hahahahha

So f delicious, hot, sexy, that pistol scene OMFG, his entire PERSONALITY, queen like you wrote him uuuuggghhhh sooo good, the way he YES KIDNAPPED HER but take care of her, didn’t want to scare her, didn’t touch her without her consent, never got angry with her, the way you descri how he looked at her OMFG YEEEEEEES when she dyed his hair and he was so adorable picking the loose thread in his jeans (yes I remember him very detail, I’m obsessed) and then when he sees her in the door with the gun and aims it at him and he’s just like calm down baby, him taking out the bullets and checking AND TELLING HER YOU ARE SAFE BABY in the game, Dolly you had me on the floor.

Absolutely in love and obsessed with this story seriously, WOOOOOOW, JUST FUCKING WOOOOOOW.

And the fact that you wrote another one shot in the same universe as SW, yes yes yes, that was soooo sinfully hot, I’m telling you YOU ARE FANTASTIC. Him begging her to stop and then she being like noooooo you can take it only for him to make her “take it” in the end hahaha loved it, but that’s from the other story hahahahah let’s focus on this one.

Ok so absolutely obsessed with how you wrote him in this.

AND I MEAN AUSTIN!Tex (not the piece of sh*t from rl) to me they are different entities.

So now reading that you have a COWBOY!Austin story and a cult leader just uuugghhh tickles all the right places hahahahaha, specially if the last one is dark!romance, uuughhhhh can’t wait.

Sending you alllll the love your way and all the good vibes, take your time, don’t stress, and I hope you are really happy hon 💕💗 thank you so much for feeding my dark cravings hahaha.

I really hope you write more Austin!tex in the future too.

(I’m so sorry for this long review haha but I couldn’t stop and sorry for any grammatical mistakes)

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐆𝐔𝐍 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 | austin!tex watson x kidnapped!reader

summary: the year is 1969 and you find yourself lucky enough to live up in the hollywood hills, spending your days dancing away to your favorite rock n’ roll vinyls in an old farmhouse and looking after your wild roommates. the only problem? you’ve caught the eye of tex watson. how does he spend his days? making moves towards finally getting everything that he could ever want. you.

pairings: obsessive!tex watson x kidnapped!reader

word count: 16,557

warnings/notes: HEAVY SMUT! serious gunplay, sexy russian roulette, cream pie, breeding kink, marking, claiming, possessiveness, tex literally stalks you, tex then kidnaps you, mention of the manson family, mentions of murder and violence- this is the sexiest thing i’ve ever written, and i will fully finish editing it tomorrow. i’m emotionally drained after finishing this.

masterlist | requests are currently closed for now.

Up in the California hills there sits a small house, nestled smack dab in the middle of a few sprawling acres of farmland. This is where Tex first saw you. 

There’s a long drive leading up to the old farmhouse, and behind it is a small red barn which has faded to a rusty orange over time due to the blinding summer sun. Every once in a while an older gentleman that looks to be in his early fifties will make his way up the mountainside to his little stretch of heaven, the large tires of his wide body chevy truck easily making it over the bumps and divots in the land, so that he can check on his tenants. He’s the kind, homely sort that the Texan was used to interacting with in the south. Watson, who was currently parked on the back bend of the mountain and just out of sight of the house and the main road, watched the older man closely. Tex’s shoulder length hair blew into his face with a large gust of wind, and he was quick to tuck it right back behind his ear, readjusting his cowboy hat to stop the annoyance from happening again. 

A gaggle of girls lived in that farmhouse, all appearing to be what the Californians would consider to be hippies. The free lovin’, barefoot walking, rock n’ roll dancing type of gals that Tex had been told to stay away from once or twice. Of course, these types of girls were the kind that Charlie seemed to like the most. 

The older landowner seemed to have no reservation about their scantily clad forms or the fact that three out of the four of them smoked like chimneys. The man would always climb out of his truck and head to the side door that was connected to the kitchen, and then you would duck your head out with a smile and beckon him in. Tex had been watching that house of yours for what seemed like days, but had really been weeks. Charlie had said in passing that he had seen a car full of pretty girls that might want to come stay at the ranch, and had given Tex the task of extending the invitation. What the “prophet” hadn’t expected was that the tall, lanky boy might grow fond of one of them. 

It was impossible to deny your charms, even from a few hundred feet away. You’d dance to your records like no one was watching, your head thrown back as you loudly sang the lyrics to your favorite songs. It was obvious to him, even after the first few hours of watching you through the windows of the house, that you were the designated ‘mother’ of the group. You cooked most of the meals and cleaned up after the messy hellions with little to no complaints. He supposed that the older gentleman must have been someone’s father, though Tex didn’t care enough to get a very good look at him and his features. Why would he pay attention to anyone else but you? Charlie would ask every other day about the progress Tex was making with talking “the pretty little things down the road” into joining the family, and Tex was guilty of lying about the strides that he was taking to make nice with the group. 

Today was just like any other day. The sun was beating down on the brunette and his tanned skin, his sensitive blue irises shielded by the brim of his hat. He was wearing a t-shirt that communally belonged to the family, though it was a size or two too small for him. It must have been one of the girl’s shirts, because it was quite snug. When he raised his arms the shirt would brush up and over his navel, and when his arms were at his sides, like they were now, it brushed against the soft flesh of his stomach. Today's outfit wasn’t exactly appropriate for crouching down in briars. Not even the fabric of his low waisted, boot cut jeans protected him from the painful stick of thorns. Nothing was going to get in his way of getting a good look at you though. 

“Thanks for dropping by to fix the sink, sir. I’m just sorry that Debbie was out of the house though. . . I know you don’t get to see her often, Mr Swanson.” You were talking to the old man out on the front porch, opening the screen door for him so that he could make his way down the rickety old steps. 

It wasn’t often that Tex got to hear your voice so clear. You seemed apologetic, and from where he stood in the tall brush and thorns, Tex could see that your eyes were soft on the man. Almost like you felt bad about something. The man, who Tex now knew as Mr Swanson, stopped by the door of his truck, quickly waving off your concerns. 

“I’ll just see her the next time I swing by. Let her know that I love her though, will ya?” His voice was deep, with a southern drawl that made the brunette feel a sort of kinship. It wasn’t entirely unusual for people to move to Los Angeles from southern states, but it was rare to meet someone with an accent as thick as his own. ‘Tex’ was a nickname he had been given by the group, and he found that he preferred it to his birth name anyway. Texas, they called him. 

“Will do. Thank you again, sir.” You made sure to watch the man drive off, staying on the porch until his car disappeared behind a thick patch of trees. 

For a second Tex worried that the man might be able to see his car once he got far enough down the mountain, but relaxed when he realized that there were a couple of thick saplings that covered up the car completely. Tex was quick to stand up, clenching his teeth as a few thorns ripped into the skin of his hands as he continued to shuffle through the bushes. Thankfully his cowboy boots protected his lower legs, but the rest of his lithe body was fair game for the sharp weeds. 

He watched your form float through the house, smiling softly to himself as you ended up in the kitchen, just as you always did. You were currently stirring away at something in a big pot, and he was sure that you were already getting things ready for dinner. You were kind and thoughtful like that. It was one of the many reasons why he was so enamored with you. He waited a few more minutes, watching to see if there was anybody else in the house. The upstairs lights were all off, meaning the girls probably weren’t in their rooms. You had also apologized about Debbie’s absence, who he assumed must have been the older man’s daughter. Clearing his throat to calm his sudden nerves, Tex walked out from the bushes, over the dirt driveway, and up the front steps of the house. The porch creaked under his weight as he stalked his way up to the front door. 

He stood there for a few seconds, his fist raised and hovering over the wooden door. He had come up with a story as a means to get you to trust him beforehand, but a strange sense of guilt had begun washing over him. Tex was by no means a good person. He wasn’t shocked by the fact that he was really standing on your front porch, mere seconds from stealing you away to the ranch. Instead of being shaken to the core by his innermost urges, he had mindlessly acted on them. Now here he stood, right on your front porch. Right where he shouldn’t be. He still had time to turn around. He could have told Charlie that he knew you personally, and felt odd about taking you back to the ranch. The head of the family would have been annoyed, and perhaps Tex would be forced to prove his loyalty, but you would at least be safe and untouched. You were too sweet and pure to be tainted. 

Tex slowly turned his head to face the long drive, biting the inside of his cheek as he wracked his brain for some sort of definitive answer. What should he do? The second that he took you there would be no turning back. You’d be forced to stay with him… but wasn’t that what he really wanted? Fate had placed you right into his lap. You were meant for him and nobody else. You gave the lanky man no time to mull over his decision. From the kitchen window you had seen him walking up the drive and decided to investigate.

At first you had been terrified, and rightly so. You rarely got any visitors since you lived so far out in the middle of nowhere, so it was unusual for a man who was around your age to be wandering around on your land. You had placed the wooden spoon down on the counter, shuffling over towards the front door in the hopes of being able to see him through the small windows that overlooked the porch. Sure enough he seemed to just be standing there, his eyebrows knit in concern, his plush lips downturned into a deep frown. It was his obvious distress that made you open up the front door, looking at him through the screen. Little did you know that you would be sacrificing both your safety and your life. He blinked at you, his handsome face hidden behind the shadow that was cast from the brim of his hat. 

“U-Uh. . . can I help you, sir?” You asked, trying to keep the fear out of your tone. 

You’d recently caught wind of a few recent robberies, and the last thing that you wanted was for something like that to happen to you. The longer that you looked at the handsome stranger, the harder it was to believe that he could be a thief though. You eyed his clothing for a second before finally deciding that he must be one of the girl’s guests. The cropped shirt and tight fitting jeans made him fit in with the sort of crowd that you usually hung around. Without a second thought you swung the screen door open, allowing him to shuffle a few steps closer to you. “Are you here to see one of the girls? They’re actually headed into town right now, but feel free to wait around-” Your heart lurched as you watched him lean against the doorframe, shoving his hands into his pockets as he watched you. 

No one had ever looked at you the way that he was looking at you in that moment. Sure, you attracted men’s attention, but this wasn’t just a glazed over sexual glance- this man was staring at you almost as though you were his favorite person in the whole world. Like you were some celebrity that he was finally getting to meet after years of idolization. It was wholly unsettling. 

“I’m actually not here for any of that.” Your face paled, and all you could do was pray that a robber wasn’t halfway through your open door. “I was actually headed up the mountain to go hiking? But I must have turned onto your drive instead. I’ve got an ole’ piece of shit beater, and it broke down on the way back down the mountain. Can I use your phone, darlin’? Just to call a friend.” His southern accent was thicker than Mr Swanson’s, and there was something about that Texan drawl that disarmed you. It made you feel like he was someone kind and trustworthy. 

“Yeah- of course. People get lost up this mountain all the time. Here, come on in.” You took a step back into the house, your mind far from accepting of the possible dangerous circumstances. It was nineteen sixty-nine, so what was the worst thing that could happen? Not to mention that the man looked like he understood the way that you lived your life. He seemed free spirited, what with his outlandish sense of style. “Our phone is right in the living room.” You called out to him, your bare feet creaking on the old hardwood floors as you made your way down the hall. Tex took his time looking around the house, his palms beginning to sweat as he realized how close he finally was to you. He could finally tell the exact color of your eyes, and smell the incense coming off of your long, wild locks. He loved you more than he could express in words. 

The rugs on the floor looked handmade, like someone had tied a bunch of silk scarves together. They felt plush under his boots as he made his way down the hall and into the living room. The southerner had spent a lot of time watching you from just outside that living room window. He could see his hiding spot where he stood now, just behind a thick patch of trees and brush, far off from your driveway just in case your roommates got any late night visitors. The house smelled like patchouli, nag champa and whatever you were currently cooking on the stove. Though of course this wasn’t the first time that he had been inside of your home. He had made visits from time to time when no one was home, eagerly shoving keepsakes into his pockets that you wouldn’t miss.

You and your friends didn’t spend much time watching tv, but there was a small television set up in the corner. He could tell that you had quite the record collection, but now that he was finally in the home, he saw that there were crates everywhere. “You like the blues?” He asked, bending down so that he could leaf through a few of the vinyls that you had right beside the telephone. You blinked a few times, almost in shock that he was going through your things before you relented, looking almost shy. 

“Yeah, don’t you?” Tex froze, taking a steadying breath so that he could gather up the strength he needed to look at you head on again. You were so beautiful that it hurt him to see you this close up. He didn’t think that it was possible to fall deeper in love with you, but he was. . 

“Me? I love rhythm and blues. You’ve got a nice collection here too. I see ya like Neil Young. . . he’s a real nice guy; a buddy of mine, actually.” Tex was stalling, and he knew it. Either he made an excuse and left the house now or he took this opportunity and brought you back home with him. He risked another glance up at your face, tracing your plush bottom lip, and then making his way up to your large doe eyes. Another stab of guilt hit him when he realized just how much you trusted him at this moment. He’d teach you how to protect yourself later, but for now he thanked God for your innocence. You were his sweet, naive baby. He’d take good care of you from now on. 

He reached out and picked up the phone, holding it against his ear as he stared at the dial pad. For a few seconds you thought that maybe he was trying to remember the right number, but there was something blank in his stare that made you begin to feel uneasy. Unsafe. Your heart picked up, pounding away in your ears as you shuffled in your spot, trying to soothe yourself by running your foot along the shag rug you had set up in the living room. 

“A-Aren’t you gonna use the phone?” You finally asked, motioning to it with your hand. 

Before you could drop your arm back down to your side he was gripping your wrist, yanking you down towards him. You barely had enough time to scream before you were lurching forward. The phone made a shrill sound as Tex threw the receiver to the ground, yanking hard at the cord to tear it out of the wall. The second that you were on the ground, Tex was moving to straddle you, trying his best to calm you with his words. “I’m not gonna hurt you, darlin’. You’ve just gotta calm down.” He tried, grabbing your wrists in one of his large hands while he fought to tie the phone cord around them to bind you. 

Your beautiful features were twisted with fear, tears pouring down your cheeks as you came to the hard realization that you had been betrayed. That you had chosen to trust the handsome stranger and that you had been an idiot in doing so. Tex watched in real time as you realized that your own innocence had been your downfall. He wanted to tell you that he wanted you to hold on to those rose colored glasses of yours. The hurt that he saw in your eyes made him want to stop what he was doing, or even turn the gun that he had burning a hole in his side on himself. He was hurting you. Tex was hurting you. 

The fear felt like it was going to eat you up alive. You could barely fill your lungs with enough air to keep yourself conscious, your loud sobs and screams tearing up from your throat only to be muffled by his hand. The stranger allowed you to buck and kick from underneath him, his hips moving with your body almost as though you were a bull trying to catapult him off. He must have had a lot of experience riding horses, because he stayed anchored to you, his solid weight crushing into your much tinier form. The long haired man flinched when your small foot made contact with a lamp on a nearby table, listening to the glass shatter behind him. 

“You’re evil!” You bit out at him, briny tears slipping past your lips and into your mouth. 

“Pure evil. Practically the devil. But I’m an angel where you’re concerned, so you better stop tryin’a kick’ me or else, lil lady.” 

Still, he kept trying his best to shush you, whispering sweet nothings to you that you weren’t quite ready to hear or understand. Finally, after what felt like hours of tirelessly trying to fight him off, you succumbed to your aching muscles. You sucked in gulps of air, shaking like a leaf as he smoothed your hair off of your sweaty forehead, cooing to you gently. 

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, pretty girl. I’m not going to do anythin’ bad to ya, alright? I just want ya to come home with me.” And then it all made sense. Things started to click into place. 

You’d felt like someone had been watching you for weeks, but any time you looked out the window or flicked the porch light on there would be no one there. Your roommates had tried to tell you that you were being paranoid, and while a part of you wanted to give up and tell them that they were right, you had known that something just wasn’t right. You didn’t want to ask him if he had been watching you. You were too scared to hear him say it- not like you needed to hear the answer anyway. You already knew. Deep down you knew that he had been trailing you for weeks. For what purpose? You weren’t quite sure of that yet. 

You pressed your cheek against the carpet, closing your eyes tightly as he slowly climbed off of you. He wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to hurt yourself with all of the glass on the floor. He hovered above you for a few seconds, making sure that you were done putting up a fight before breezing through the house, acting almost as though he owned the place. If there was ever a time to try and get up, now would be that time. You refused to die without putting up a fight. So once he was off of you and looking around the house, no doubt for something to probably tie your legs up with, you fumbled to sit up, pulling at your arms with all of your might. The plastic wires didn’t bend or break at all, and so you were left to pull yourself up with great difficulty, hissing softly in pain as broken pieces of glass embedded themselves into your bare legs. You were tired, terrified, and now injured. This didn’t stop you from stumbling up and onto your feet, breathing heavily as you made your way down the hall as quietly as you could, the front door in sight. Maybe you could run down the driveway and out onto the road, praying that someone in their car might see or hear you screaming for help. It was worth a shot. You’d almost made it to the screen door when you heard a very soft clicking noise directly behind you. You’d heard the sound in enough western films to know that it belonged to a weapon. Specifically an old revolver. Something with enough power to blow a hole straight through you. 

“I was tryin’ to be nice, honey. Now I know you’re not the type to go ‘round takin’ advantage of others kindness.” Kindness. You heard his voice right behind you, your muscles tensing as you realized that the only chance you had was now gone. This was it. Either you died right here or did as he said. 

Of course you didn’t know that he was madly in love with you. How could you know that? The gun was merely a prop, something that he had brought to scare you, and if there happened to be a confrontation at the house while he was getting you, he would use it to protect both you and himself. Even if you managed to run out of the house, he would have never shot you. Not in a million years. You could do anything you wanted to him, and he still wouldn’t raise a hand to you. Besides, even if you somehow managed to get yourself free, Tex knew that he could outrun and overpower you in seconds. You had absolutely no chance of escape. He just needed to scare you enough to get you into the car with him, and from the looks of it you seemed to be absolutely petrified already. He watched your legs buckle underneath you, eyes wide and watery as you stared at him. 

“A-Are you gonna kill me, sir.” Maybe it was the way you looked at him like he had deeply betrayed you, or the fact that you had tears running down your cheeks. Perhaps it was the way your voice broke as you tried to speak, sounding far more innocent than anything or anyone Tex deserved to put his filthy hands on. Whatever it was, Tex felt like he was going to burst into tears right along with you. 

He blinked them away, quickly shaking his head in the hopes of alleviating your fears. “I promise you that I will not hurt you or let you be hurt by anyone else. I just gotta have you, is all.” 

Your shaky legs weren’t able to keep yourself up anymore. You were cut up and your muscles felt like jello from all of the constant kicking and jerking from earlier. The pure, unadulterated terror had filled your joints with cement. You had fought as hard as you could, and it still had been nowhere enough. You had seen movies in the past where girls were kidnapped or held for ransom, and you felt horrible now for ever thinking that they didn’t fight half as hard as they should have during those scenes. Because you must have looked the exact same way they did. Kicking and flailing without any real rhyme or reason, praying that your legs or fists might connect with something to make him back off of you. Now here you were, battered and bruised- and the worst part was that it was all your own fault. He really had stayed true to his word. He hadn’t hurt you at all, save for the fact that he had bound your wrists so tightly that it felt like it was cutting off your circulation. 

You looked up at him like he wasn’t speaking English at all. To you he might as well have been speaking in tongues. He had to have you? He noticed your confusion instantly. Tex had all of your mannerisms downpat already. You two might as well have been lovers for years. He studied you much like a devout catholic might study the holy bible. Front to back. No page left unturned. Every twitch of your nose, pout of your lips, and twinkle in your eyes didn’t go unnoticed by him. He wanted to massage the small line that was appearing between your furrowed brows, and now that he had you bound and weakened, he was finally able to. Tex let out a breathy sound that sounded like a sigh of relief to your ears as he pressed his thumb in between your eyes, rubbing out the worry lines that had appeared on your adorably scrunched up face. Your skin was hot, sticky with sweat under his hands. He was practically buzzing as he made the realization that he was touching you. . . touching you so nonchalantly. He’d be able to do this from now on too. 

“Ya see… I’ve been watchin’ your house for some time now. I came for Charlie but stayed for myself.” He told you this almost as though he was telling you that it was going to be overcast tomorrow. Not a lick of shame. 

At the mention of another man’s name your terror began to mount. Why did he want you? What would you be used for? Were there multiple men in on this kidnapping? Were your roommates in any danger? It was almost as though Tex could read your mind, quickly getting down on his knees in front of you, grabbing your shoulder in one strong hand. You noticed the scratches on them, the veins visible, twisting up his strong forearms. You immediately made the connection to the briar patches in the wooded area around you. 

“No one else will have anythin’ to do with ya, alright? Like I said darlin’, i ain’t gonna let nothin’ touch ya.” But you weren’t sure that you believed him. 

For a minute or two you both just looked at each other. He was willing you to trust him and you were willing him to let you go. His handsome features weren’t lost on you. Even despite the hell that he was bound to put you through, you couldn’t help but look up at him and see a beautiful face. Pillow plush lips, big blue eyes framed by thick lashes, and a body that both towered over you and easily overpowered you. He had slung you around like a ragdoll earlier. Like you weighed nothing more than a bag of downing feathers. 

He was oleander; both beautiful and deadly. 

Tex had left you alone for far too long. You had busied yourself with following the shapes and designs of his crumpled comforter with your eyes, hoping that it would fight off the panic and horror that was beginning to grip at your lungs. You still felt shaky, like at any moment you might break down into some unsalvageable fragment of your once carefree self. You readied yourself for the madness, but it didn’t come. No matter how hard you tried to disassociate from your current plane of existence, no relief was awarded. Whatever commune or “family” that Tex had dragged you into was one of labyrinthian complexity. He had parked his rickety car right in front of the farm, which happened to be not far from your very own home. It made you think that perhaps he had seen you driving home one day and had felt compelled to follow you onto your little safehaven of land. 

The girls and you had joked about it being your own little slice of heaven. A paradise. All the four of you had to do was look after the land and make sure that no one looted the house. Debbie’s father was a very kind and very rich man who never made a fuss about taking care of all of you. He had been born and raised in North Carolina; a man that had been brought up on good southern values. He loved his daughter more than anything, and so he always saw you as family. You had been there for Debbie when they had first moved to California, a fast made friend all the way back in high school. Your heart squeezed uncomfortably in your chest, aching to the point where you were sure that it might just pop in your small heaving chest as you began to imagine what Debbie might be feeling right about now. You always took such good care of her. Loved her and your other friends like sisters. They were probably in a frenzy, calling up all of your friends to see who might have been there with you. Who might have hurt you. 

All Tex had told you before sitting you down on his bed was that he had to talk to Charlie. Had to explain things to him and then all would be well. That must have been thirty minutes ago now. You had only caught a glimpse of the group of misfits on your way up the stairs to his room. Most of them looked high out of their minds. You recognized that glazed look in their eyes. You were all about people joining hands and living as one, but this wasn’t that. This was something strange all together. This was something so completely other that your brain couldn’t quite define what it was that you were thinking or feeling. All you knew for a fact was that alarm bells were sounding off in your head in a steady stream of white hot noise. You had seen a man that you thought might be Charlie. Three girls were practically laid out on top of him when you and Tex had walked through the front door.. One had been playing with his scraggly hair, the two others rolling what might be a smoke, but you knew was probably dope. 

You didn’t tend to judge when it came to couples like that. You’d seen your fair share of “free love” at festivals. Most polyamorous couples stuck to themselves, nothing more than good and honest people who had a little too much love in their hearts. There was something odd about the damn near robotic way the girls were fawning over that man though. Almost like they felt as though they needed to take care of him. Like they were nothing more than servants. Just homely little wives that were born and bred to fuck, feed, and fawn over him. You hoped that this wasn’t something that Tex expected of you. You hoped that in a few days he’d change his mind and bring you back. You already had a speech ready: If you take me back now I won’t tell anybody what I’ve seen or what you’ve done. I’ll just lie and say that I got a bad phone call and had to blow off steam for a few days. 

The sad thing was that your friends would probably believe that lie. Your home life has been one of constant disappointment and misery. No one would ever question Tex, and you sure as hell didn’t want to get yourself mixed up with the cops. Whatever was happening on this ranch was bad news. Really bad news. 

“Little lady?” Your sore muscles tightened again, wide eyes instantly flashing back over towards the closed door. It was Tex. His accent set him apart from everybody else. Made him memorable. 

He looked even taller than you remembered him being now that his back was pressed up against the doorway. He was quick to slip in, closing the door behind him. He seemed happy about something, and it unnerved you to no end. He was smiling at you almost as though he had just won the lottery. 

“Charlie said that you’re welcome here,” He purred out, striding towards you confidently before crouching down on his knees, placing one of his hands on your thigh as he spoke, acting as though the two of you had known each other for years. “You’re part of the family now, which means you don’t have to worry. No one is gonna hurt ya or try to take ya from me.” 

Your heart jumped, lodging itself in your throat. You felt light headed. His smile slowly fell, his blue eyes rounding a bit as he stood up hurriedly, laying you back against the mattress. His hands shook as he grabbed your calves, situating you on the bed so that he could pull the comforter up and over you. His sheets smelled like fresh ivory soap, sweat and man. Your vision was tunneling and your teeth chattering. What little hope you had that this delusional man would take you back home was gone. No. . . he didn’t look even the least bit nervous about taking you. What timidness he had shown during the drive up to the ranch must have been about whether or not Charlie’s reaction to your presence would be negative. Now that the confrontation was out of the way he seemed fit as a fiddle and right as rain. 

“Your lips are turning white. . . y-you okay, honey?” He was rubbing your arms up and down through the fabric of the comforter, your skin pulling uncomfortably at your wrists where you were still bound. “Come on. Speak to me. I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wron-” 

It was the utter audacity of the stranger that turned your nerves into rage. You felt it building up, the heart aching sadness morphing into some big, ugly beast that you didn’t recognize in yourself. “What’s wrong? I-I was just attacked in my own home and kidnapped. Now you’ve got me tied up in a house with a bunch of weirdos-” His large hand was quick to cover your mouth, his eyes narrowing on your face before turning towards the door quickly. He must have been nervous of someone overhearing you.

When his friends got their feelings hurt they usually blew the offender’s head off or slit their throats in their sleep. You tried to speak through his calloused hand, but he only pressed down harder, your lips digging uncomfortably into your teeth. His hand smelled of sweat, men's cologne and grass. Judging by his boots and dirt stained pants he had probably been working out in the yard before he had come for you. “Those weirdos have short tempers, darlin’. If someone hurts you. . .  then i’ll react with violence myself, and I don’t wanna make an enemy outta any of em’. Do you understand what I’m tryna say?” 

You didn’t understand exactly what he was saying… aside from the fact that he had just told you- in a rather roundabout way- that they were dangerous. You tried to calm down, realizing that panicking and yelling wasn’t going to get you anywhere with the man. You took a few steadying breaths through your nose, nodding your head to let him know that you were catching on to the severity of the situation. Slowly he removed his hand, allowing you to quickly lick your lips and gather your bearings. You could taste his salty sweat on your tongue and fought back the urge to spit. When you looked back up at him, ready to question as to what the hell was really going on, he seemed to be distracted with his hand. The very hand that had just been pressed against your lips. You cleared your throat to get his attention, hoping that you hadn’t ended up biting him by accident. He might have said that he wouldn’t hurt you, but that didn’t mean that you believed it. He seemed to be entranced by the palm that had been pressed against your lips. Before you could question him as to what he could be staring at, he brought his palm up to his mouth. You wanted to voice your disgust as you watched him drag his tongue along his calloused skin to lap up your spit. 

He let his eyes flicker up towards your face, almost like he was daring you to say something. It was almost like he wanted to explain himself. You didn’t want to act too shocked. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting some kind of reaction out of you. Now that he had removed the jet black cowboy hat from his head you could see his eyes better. They were as blue as a summer midday sky. They looked startlingly bright against his sun kissed skin. You needed to avert your eyes away from his face, especially since he was still licking at his palm, seemingly to get every remnant of what had been left over from your mouth. The heated eye contact that he was making with you whilst doing that had you nearly shivering as a result. It was startling. Grotesque. He was staring at you like he wanted to devour you. Like he wished it was your own mouth that he was lapping at instead. Or maybe even. . . 

You tightened your thighs on impulse, blinking wildly to rid yourself of the image that your panicked brain had conjured up. 

“W-What is your name?” You needed to work your way from the ground up, you could tell. He wasn’t about to volunteer sensitive information straight away. At least. . . you didn’t think that he trusted you that much yet. 

His face fell, his hand falling limply on top of your legs as it finally dawned on him that you didn’t even know his name. You really did no nothing about him. How ridiculous it was of him to forget. “Tex. Tex Watson.” He cleared his throat before letting his eyes bounce around the room, his cheeks getting a bit pinker as he continued. “I-I mean people call me Tex. I’d prefer it if you called me that too.” Which meant that Tex probably wasn’t his real name. Ah- there it was. The shame in his eyes. The sudden realization that you knew nothing about him, yet here he was, talking to you like you were long time lovers. Touching you like it was all he had been doing for years. 

The self reflection was gone just as soon as it had come though, a gleeful damn near smirk soon pulling at his lips. “Ask me anythin’ you want.” Perhaps he wanted you to ask about the happenings of the ranch. Maybe he enjoyed the fear that it was instilling in you. 

“What is this place?” You tried to keep your voice steady and school your face into an expression of slight indifference. If he was just playing with you like a cat would a mouse, the last thing you wanted to do was give him what he wanted. Maybe he would kill you quicker if you helped him play out whatever sick fantasy this was, and you couldn’t have that. Still though, you couldn’t help but find his behavior out of the ordinary for someone who might just want to kill you. No matter how terrified you were, you were beginning to believe him. He wasn’t going to kill you. He just wanted to keep you. Stare at you. Possibly even love you. It was odd, and to your sane and sound mind this was the farthest thing from normal, but if you had any hope of getting out of here alive and in one piece, you had to play along. 

“We call ourselves a family- one that you’re now’a part of,” He placed a hand on your cheek, and you couldn’t keep yourself from flinching, your body giving in to it’s natural instinct to evade his touch. If he noticed he didn’t seem to mind. He ran his thumb against your cheek, marveling at how soft it was. He was beginning to feel a bit more greedy with his touches. “But Charles looks after all of us. We have a divine purpose on this earth. You do too. I knew it from the very first second that’a laid eyes on ya. Ya were destined to be my wife.” 

You found out a lot about the family and it’s dynamic. Charles was the leader and they- the people that you had seen downstairs- were his followers. Most of the women in the family were romantically involved with the man in charge, and they called themselves his “wives”. The more Tex spoke, the faster you realized that this place was less of a group of friends and more of some sort of a religious cult. They seemed to believe that it was their duty to help and bring on the apocalypse. From what you could remember of the countless brainwashing bible camps that your parents had forced you to attend, the apocalypse was supposed to not only be the end of the world as everyone knew it, but the end of the human race. No one evaded death. The good went to heaven and the bad suffered and went to hell. 

Did this mean that Tex and the rest of his “family” members wanted people to die? Did they do any killing?  It was all very strange and very confusing. You pried a little bit more about Tex and how he fit into the hierarchy of the family. He seemed to be high up on the totem pole, stating that the only person that he answered to was Charles himself. You asked whether or not he had any other wives, but he was quick to try and “alleviate your fears”, letting you know that he strictly practiced monogamy. 

You asked him questions until the sun set behind your beloved mountain, the two of you now talking in a dark room. He offered to feed you, bringing back a plate of dinner that one of Charlie’s “wives” had prepared for the entire ranch, but you declined. You were positive that if you tried to eat anything that it would come right back up. He had hesitantly accepted the fact that you were in no state to eat, finishing the plate of food himself. 

Getting to know Tex did nothing to deaden your fears. If anything, you felt terrified for your well being far more than you had before. He was absolutely unhinged, but the fact that his friends were ten times worse was crystal clear. As long as you laid low in the house and stuck to Tex like glue, it sounded like you would be able to slip right under the radar. There was no way you were going to get off of the ranch by yourself, so you needed help. You needed Tex’s help to do that, so you needed to get on his good side sooner rather than later. You couldn’t afford to have a mental breakdown- not yet at least. You could scream and cry after you were home safe. 

After he had told you his entire life story he seemed content enough to place his hands on his knees, standing up with a small groan before heading towards the ensuite bathroom. Being left alone, even if he was just in the other room, made your body lock up in terror. You were able to shyly ask him through your nervous cottonmouth whether or not he’d be willing to let you sit in the bathroom with him. He seemed to hesitate but gave in regardless. It wasn’t until the both of you were standing under the bright fluorescent lights in the bathroom that he finally realized how horrible your bound hands looked. They were practically white from the lack of circulation. “God damn it, baby! Why didn’t you tell me ‘bout this?” He was quick to exclaim, hurriedly reaching into the back pocket of his pants and pulling out a pocket knife. You were unable to keep from letting out a small shriek, backing up against the bathroom sink as tightly as you could. He threw his free hand up in what seemed to be exhaustion and annoyance. 

“I just rattled on for ages about how I was meant to marry ya, and you think imma hurt you? Stop fussin’ so much, alright? You’re safe. I’ve got ya. I have the means to protect ya, so nothin’ is gonna happen.” With that being said he closed the gap between your bodies, shoving the knife under the tightly wrapped cord and pulling, hacking away binds. 

The second that the blood started rushing back to your hands you felt a sharp sting. You flinched and tried desperately to get your fingers to move. Tex closed the pocket knife, shoving it back in his back pocket before reaching out for your hands, rubbing at the sore skin with his thumbs. It felt like you had ducked your hands into a pocket of spiders, your nerves twitching and coming back to life. After making sure that you were alright, Tex stood up a little straighter, nodding his head towards the bathroom door. 

“I don’t like threatenin’ you, honey, but you need to know that if you leave this room without me there will be consequences.” His hands moved to his shirt as he spoke to you, slipping it off without any hesitation in front of you. You were quick to avert your eyes as his hands moved down to his pants, biting down on your lower lip as you tried to keep yourself from screaming yet again. How could he ever think that this was normal? 

“You can look if you want,” He was still standing right in front of you, his deep voice still sounding just as close. “It’s all yours.” 

It’s not like you had never had sex before, but it was infrequent enough for the shame of this entire situation to redden your cheeks and ears. Your roommates weren’t opposed to sleeping with friends or strangers on a regular basis, and while you never judged them for what they did, you weren’t the kind of person to involve yourself with someone you didn’t know well enough. You half expected Tex to try and coerce you, but the second he saw the look on your face he turned the shower on, climbing in and closing the curtain tight behind him. 

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have undressed in front of ya. That was wrong of me.” That was the most regretful that you’d heard him sound this entire time. “I just. . . I just love ya so much. It’s very hard to control myself, but I will. You don’ have to be afraid of me.” But you were. Terrified. Petrified even. You didn’t answer him. 

“I know that eventually you’ll come ‘round. You’ll see. You’re mine and I’m yours, and isn’t that how it’s supposed to be between a married couple?” You had dropped your head into your hands as you sat down on the counter, your feet dangling above the floor. You didn’t have the energy left to be shocked. 

“Married?” Your voice came out more even than you expected it to. 

“Spiritually, at least. We’ve been tethered since our very inception. That’s what Charlie told me at least, and I believe him.” But you sure as hell didn’t. 

Much like you had done with the comforter just hours ago, you laid awake on your back, eyes staring up at the ceiling. You tried to find any cracks or imperfections with your eyes, making unnecessary note of each one. Tex, though he had stayed true to his word the entire night and hadn’t hurt nor forced himself upon you, had insisted that you sleep with him in his room. He had given you space, scooting back far enough on the bed to where only your feet touched under the blanket. You’d be lying if you didn’t think about making a run for it, and he had made sure to let you know that staying with him would be safer than running into his friends downstairs. It wasn’t exactly a threat, but sure as hell felt like one. You hadn’t been able to fully relax until you heard his breathing even out, risking a glance over at him once you were absolutely certain that he had fallen asleep. 

Once again, the duality of him was on full display. It was difficult- damn near impossible- to imagine someone that looked like he did to do such a thing. How could he kidnap anyone when he looked like an angel? He had held you at gunpoint not even five hours ago, yet here he was, lashes gently fluttering as he dreamed. The gentle slope of his nose was nuzzled against his dark green pillow case, and the hair that was still wet from his shower was sticking to his cheeks. Now that his blue eyes were closed you were able to see just how thick his lashes were, even in the pale moonlight. The worst part was how innocent he looked. You hated him, but there was a small part of you that didn’t want to. 

Was the crime that he committed a good indication that he had mental health issues? Was he someone that should be pitied rather than detested? Still, he was articulate and had a way with storytelling. He seemed intelligent and calculated with his thoughts and decisions. 

You spent the rest of the night like that, staring up at the ceiling and trying to come up with excuses for his bad behavior. You had drifted off a few times, but startled awake whenever you felt his large body shift closer to yours, unused to sleeping next to someone. Your body was on high alert, sensitive to everything around you. 

These anxieties bled into your daily life on the ranch. The more days passed though, the less afraid you were that you were going to be hurt. Rather you became hyper aware of Tex rather than just the things around you. Tex’s friends didn’t seem very interested in talking to you, not even during dinner. 

Their loud voices blended in with the constant music pouring out of the media system in the living room. The Beatles, Neil Young and The Beach boys became the soundtrack to your everyday life. You weren’t mad about the incessant background noise either. It was in the dead of night when no one was awake to flip the vinyl that things got eerie. Silence became your worst enemy. You’d wake up in the dead of night to the dull crackling downstairs from the speakers, all of your newest fears at the forefront of your mind. Tex got closer to you as the days passed. He was testing the waters and chipping away at your resolve. You’d lost the fight that you once had, so you no longer pushed away his arms when he pulled you into a hug. He loved to be touching you at all times. Whether it was him brushing his hand against yours, placing your thighs over his lap when the two of you were in the living room, or even pressing his nose against the back of your head as you both slept so that he could breathe in your scent. You’d never had a serious boyfriend in your life, and to be touched constantly at all hours of the day made you feel confused and conflicted. 

It also didn’t help that Tex wasn’t exactly a monster. He had asked to kiss you a few times as the days passed by, and all it took was a shake of your head for him to give up. Anything farther than fleeting touches were off limits to him. Even when you felt his hands shaking with need as they brushed over your thighs, he never pushed you. He never took too much from you. It was easy to fall into a pattern of monotony. Tex would wake up early to feed the animals, letting you sleep in when exhaustion was still melting you into the mattress. Then breakfast was served, oftentimes you helped the other girls wordlessly. You used to cook for your girls everyday, so the task made you feel normal. Like your life hadn’t just been torn from you. Then you and Tex would drift into the living room and listen to music with Charlie and the rest of the group. The way that they all spoke to one another just seemed like a close knit group of friends shooting the shit to most, but you knew that there were secret codes and heavy meanings between each nod of their head or odd hand movement. Tex might have loved you, but that didn’t mean that he planned to tell you everything about his life. 

The group rarely called you by your name. They’d assigned you little nicknames, which was supposed to make you feel more comfortable around them. Tex also had a habit of referring to you as “the ole’ lady”, which you didn’t hate half as much as you should have. 

“Why are you so against me dyin’ my hair?” He spoke up from his spot on the corner of the tub, picking at a small hole on his bell bottoms as he waited for you to get started. He had been wearing the same shirt that you had worn yesterday before he had shrugged it off and over his head, not wanting to stain it. That was another thing that made you homesick. The group liked to share clothes. 

You were clutching the bottle to your chest, glaring at the back of his head as you tried to come up with an answer. “I just don’t think black hair is going to look good on you, is all.” You grumbled, quickly evading his eyes as he turned his head to face you with a smirk. 

“So. . . what yer’ tellin’ me is that’cha like my natural hair color? S’ that it?” Damn him and his dumb accent. Damn him and his big blue eyes. Damn him. 

Instead of answering you simply reached out, giving his hair a quick tug. You were trying to be mean to him and to get him to stop his teasing, but you being the one to initiate the touching must have caught him off guard. He let out a loud yelp, the sound echoing around the tiled bathroom. A few seconds afterwards you heard a shuddered breath slip past his lips, and the sound made you clench your jaw. His hands moved out to grip the sides of the porcelain tub until his knuckles were white, the muscles of his bare back tightening. There it was again. The tension was often unbearable between the two of you. Your passionate distaste for him had shifted into a passionate “something”. You just couldn’t pinpoint what it could possibly be. What it could mean for you. The fact that you could even tolerate the asshole wasn’t right. It made you think of your mother, who loved your father despite the constant hell he put her through. 

All men had ever done was disappoint you and let you down. Tex, while he had done something awful to you and had hurt you, was always so soft with you. He did things without having to be told. He looked out for you. He tucked you in at night. He looked at you almost as though you were the only woman on the entire planet. He couldn’t get enough of you. He never stopped telling you how much he loved you, and you believed him. Maybe you were just as sick in the head as he was, because you believed that he loved you. When he said that there was no one else out there for him, you knew that he was telling the truth. It was because of this constant attention that you found it hard to deny yourself of the urge to explore. There was this insanely bratty part of yourself that wanted to test him and his devotion for you. 

You stared down at his chocolate brown hair for a few more seconds, rubbing your fingers against a few fine strands before saying your final goodbye to his natural color. “Don’t cry to me when you look ridiculous though.” You tried to sound cold, but really just sounded like a nagging girlfriend. He didn’t seem to mind. You could hear him chuckling softly, his eyes glued to the yellow shower tiles in front of him. It didn’t take you long to apply the black dye, tossing the applicator in the trash once you were finished. His sudden urge to dye his hair confused you to no end, but very little of what Tex did made complete sense. 

“How long do ya think I should leave this in for?” He finally asked, standing up inside of the tub and stretching out his long arms up and over his head as he waited for your answer. You watched the muscles in his shoulders tense, his biceps bulging ever so slightly with the movement. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed you staring, but you turned away from him to wash your hands at the sink before he could say anything. 

“Uh. . . probably twenty minutes, I’d think.” You had gotten a few specks of dye on your wrists and palm, and no matter how hard you scrubbed at the skin with soap it didn’t want to wash out. Tex seemed to stain you that very same way. He had tainted you- did something fucked up to your mind, and now you were different. You felt damn near brainwashed at this point. You’d never be the same. He’d stuck himself right onto you, and no matter how badly you wanted him off, he wasn’t leaving. 

You scrubbed at your palm until your hand was raw, Tex being the one to walk over to the sink and turn off the water. You dared a glance up at him, looking through your lashes. His eyebrows were drawn together in confusion at your odd behavior. You did this every now and again. It was almost as though you were too stuck in your own mind to really understand what was going on around you. This was one of those times. 

“You’re gonna make yourself bleed, honey.” He took your palm in his hand, covering it with his unstained fingers. 

You dared to look up at him, taking in his face against the black inky locks that hung down around him. You had smoothed the hair off of his face and neck so as to not stain him. You weren’t sure why you had been so gentle and considerate with him, but you had been. You weren’t sure if you regretted it either. He didn’t look half bad with black hair, and that made you want to rub at your skin even harder. If anything he still looked just as great. His eyes were such a vibrant shade of blue now that you found it hard to look away. If someone wanted to paint Tex, all they needed to do was grab a true shade of blue and mix it with a little white- they were so pretty that it was unnatural. 

You snatched your hand out of his grip, clearing your throat before backing out of the room. You needed to escape and fast. Something registered in his eyes. They widened a bit, his lips parting in silent shock. You wanted to play dumb. You wanted to ask him what had his stupid jaw on the floor, but you knew that he had made a vital, fucking dangerous realization. 

He finally realized that you were attracted to him. 

Not just in passing, but as someone that you were beginning to enjoy being around. The kind of attraction that often resulted in dating in the normal, real world. You didn’t want to give him any time to mull over it either. If Tex said something to you, you weren’t sure whether or not you could answer him without sacrificing a vital part of yourself. The part of yourself that had been keeping you safe the last few weeks. The part of yourself that had shielded you from the fact that no one had come looking for you on the ranch. No one probably thought that you were really gone. Was your mother worried that you hadn’t called? Did your father even really care? 

You sat in the bedroom alone for the next fifteen minutes, pacing back and forth next to the bed. Now that the shower was running, you knew that he would be unable to stop you from looking through his things. Your fear of being caught had been too great up until this point, but the self loathing made you bold. Most of his drawers were filled with pants, jackets, and shirts. You riffled through them and found nothing out of the ordinary. His bedside table was a little more exciting, but only because you had found drugs. He had a few novels shoved in, along with what you knew had to be tabs of acid. It wasn’t until you ducked your head underneath the bed that you finally found what you had been expecting to find all along. 

That revolver along with box after box of ammunition. Your hands shook as you reached under the bed to grab the weapon, swallowing thickly as you held it up in front of you to get a better look at it. This was the same one that Tex had pointed at you the day that he took you. It was odd to see it up close, and even more odd that you were the one holding it. Not once in your life had you ever shot a gun, but you could probably find out through trial and error. How hard could it be, right?

 There were other weapons underneath his bed that made your heart pound. Ropes and knives among other things that you couldn’t bear to stare at for too long. But then, further back, there was a shoebox that felt out of place amongst the other things. Setting the gun down you reached out, biting your lip as you dragged it out from underneath the bed as well, looking anxiously at the bathroom door. You were past the point of feeling guilty for prying. You tossed the lid off, your face paling instantaneously. Pictures. Pictures of your old kitchen, living room, and bedroom. You were in every single one, either smiling at something one of the girls had said or busying yourself with a task. Most of the photos weren’t so innocent though. No- There were pictures of you naked in front of your bedroom window, getting ready for bed. Your breasts were on full display as you looked out the window. You remembered those nights. You remembered how uncomfortable you had felt in your own home, almost as though someone was watching you. You tore the photos out, flipping through them with trembling fingers. What was underneath the photos was worse. Ten times worse. A hundred times worse. 

Panties. Panties that you had worn and thrown into the dirty clothes weeks ago, only for them to go missing. You let out a small whimper when you grabbed a pair, holding them up in front of you just to check. Just to see if he had done anything. You regretted it the second that you saw the stain. “Oh my god. . .” You threw them back into the box, pushing the pictures under the bed with hurried hands. 

There it was. The truth. All laid out in front of you. 

Maybe he wasn’t ever going to kill you, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t a killer. If the cops came out here looking for him, you were sure that you’d be roped in with the lot of them. You would be seen as nothing more than another one of those hippies that runs off and joins a cult. You stood up and off of the ground, the gun still clasped tightly in your hand. You were shaking so badly that you weren’t sure how you were even able to keep hold of the thing. Has anything he told you about himself been the truth, or had he been lying this entire time? Spinning this huge web of stories just to catch you, waiting until you were completely tangled up just to sink his fangs into you. Were you hyperventilating? Were you crying? You slapped a hand against your cheek, wiping at the soft skin there. Sure enough you were in full blown hysterics. 

Here it was. The long awaited mental breakdown. 

Had you really been sleeping in a house with murderers this entire time? Sitting at the dinner table and breaking fucking bread with them all? You stumbled over towards the bedroom door, creaking it open to pop your head out and listen out for Charlie and his other followers. Someone was playing an acoustic guitar downstairs, all of them probably reading the bible and coming up with more religious nonsense to fuel their evil intentions. You let your eyes flicker to the bannister just down the hall that led out to the kitchen, trying to map out just how long it would take you to sneak your way through the kitchen door. You’d gone through that creaky door enough to know that everyone in the house would hear it open. You’d have to outrun men who had far longer legs than you. Even with the gun, you weren’t quite sure you could make it down the mountain to your home, or even to the main road. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” You gasped so loudly that you nearly coughed, your heart rattling in your chest as you swung around, pointing the gun out with a trembling hand. 

Tex was drying his hair with a towel, his bell bottoms hanging low on his waist, the front unzipped to reveal the hem of his briefs. His plush lips pulled down into a frown as he raised his hands up in surrender. He didn’t look scared. Didn’t look angry. He looked annoyed and exasperated, like he had caught his child sticking their little nose into something that they shouldn’t have. He popped his hip out, putting his weight on one leg as he shook his head back and forth. 

“S’ya were goin’ through my things?” He looked around you at the open door, letting out a small sigh before he took a step forward. You put your finger on the trigger as he began walking closer, your jaw dropping as he rolled his eyes. 

“Stop! I’ll do it. I-I’ll shoot!” Without a second thought he gripped the barrel of the gun, easily angling it upwards and towards the ceiling as he boxed you in with his tall body, pushing the door closed behind you. 

You tried to jerk the gun out of his grasp, but he held on tight, not budging at all. You were boxed in against the door, his hand still pressed against the wood behind you. He leaned in close, his breath fanning over your face as he spoke. “You ain’t gonna do nothin’, lil lady.” 

It wasn’t a challenge. It wasn’t him mocking you. He was saying that he knew that you didn’t have what it takes to hurt him. Sure, you would have been able to shoot and injure him at such short range if you had the guts to actually pull the trigger. There was a chance that if you had shot him that you might have killed him, but there was also the large possibility that you might have missed. The gun was shaking like crazy in your grasp, never once being aimed at any of his vital points. Factually, if the gun had gone off he might have been fine. He also knew you better than you knew yourself. You wouldn’t hurt him. No. . . no. . . not when you liked him so much. 

He gently removed the gun from your grasp, letting out a small sigh as he tossed it onto the dresser with a loud thunking noise. He raked his hands through his soaking wet hair and dropped the towel so that he could give you his full attention. If you had snuck your little ass out of here while he was in the shower? His heart was pounding as he thought about what might have happened. If someone hurt you in the process of your escape, he’d annihilate the entire family without a second thought. He had enough ammunition beneath his bed to start a war. 

Because Tex would have rather died than ever actually hurt you. He couldn’t even imagine your pretty little body completely still, utterly unmoving. The mere idea of you dying, even at the hands of fate, had him nearly doubling over. He could see the way that you eyed the revolver that he had on his dressing table. Your overly tired brain was trying to string together some sort of plan to overpower him in order to get your hands on the weapon. He could practically see the cogs turning. Even if you did succeed in killing him, there was no promise that you would make it off of the ranch alive. Tex had already put himself in the line of fire when he had decided to save you. His own neck was on the chopping block now, and he knew with surety that the other member’s of this cursed family were looking for any reason to slit his throat while he slept. Dying for you, especially after all of the wrong that he had done in his life, seemed like a pretty good way to go. If you killed him before he could get you off of that mountain and as far away from California as he could get you, then you’d be next. A simple revolver, buck knife, and whatever else Tex had in his room wasn’t going to save you from Charlie’s wrath. You were severely outskilled and outnumbered. 

“How about we play a game?” Tex watched you flinch at the sudden sound of his deep voice, your eyes widening as you watched him cross the room to grab the gun. You were quick to back up into the bedside table, arm reaching behind you for something to grab onto. The sight of him holding the gun so nonchalantly by his side reminded you of just how many people might have met their maker at the other end of that thing. Your breath came out of you in deep pants, your legs growing wobbly beneath you as you yanked up the glass lamp, the plug sparking as it was roughly ripped from the wall. 

Tex was quick to hold the hand that had the gun clasped in it in front of you, his fingers off of the trigger. His other arm was out in surrender. He didn’t need you getting glass on the floor unnecessarily, especially if it meant that you might end up cutting yourself by accident. “Hey- hey there, little lady. I’m not gonna hurt you. See?” He opened the chamber, letting the bullets spill out into his hand. The cold metal rattled, and slowly you inched forward, leaning a few inches closer to him so that you could make sure that he wasn’t trying to take you for some sort of fool. 

“Look, honey. I’ve taken all the bullets out.” As if to prove his point the man slapped his palm against the barrel, it clicking back in place. He pulled back the hammer of the gun, aiming it to the ceiling. Click. Shoot. Click. Shoot. Click. Shoot. Nothing. No sheets of plaster rained down on you. No deafening shot echoed through the room. He really had removed all of the bullets. He smiled that straight, white smile at you as he watched your shoulders relax. You refused to die here. You couldn’t do it. You were a nervous wreck, your emotions all over the place. You were so used to men treating you roughly. The no good sort of men that Tex made look like babies. 

The man standing before you, his newly black dyed hair still soaking wet and dripping onto his shoulders, confused you. It was so easy to despise him. He had stalked you with the purpose of killing you. Him forcing you to come with him up to the ranch did you no favors either. He tried to convince you that you were safe with him, but you could hear the other murderers downstairs even now, their loud whoops and laughter making your chest burn and your blood go hot. It was easy to hate him for everything that he had done. He had murdered people, and you weren’t even sure how many. He had ripped your life away from you in the blink of an eye, and tried to manipulate you into believing that it was for the greater good. What you absolutely couldn’t stand was the fact that it was working. Maybe it was because your past relationships with men had shaped and molded you to be the perfect candidate for manipulation. Tex was a horrible person, and he had turned your life completely upside down without any permission to do so. He had taken almost every bit of your free will from you, not allowing you to make your own decisions. 

But no one had ever loved you the way that Tex presumably did. No one had ever looked at you the way that he looked at you. 

“What kind of game?” Your mouth felt like it was going numb, your hip still pressed hard into his bedside table, the lamp clutched in your hand. 

His blue eyes looked startling against his black hair. It was unreal how vibrant they were. They flickered down to your hand, staring at the lamp before he motioned towards his hand that held the bullets with a nod of his head. “It’s called Russian Roulette. Except this time we cut the bullshit and raise the stakes.” 

You knew that if you said no that he would drop the subject. You also knew that, as far as you could tell, that he had no intentions of ever hurting you. “Raise the stakes?” You hated that you were so naturally curious. Your heart was pounding incredibly hard in your chest. You could feel it in your throat. 

He smiled down at his boots, trying his best to hide the sly nature of it from view. He knew that he had you on the hook now that you were asking questions. “Each time we pull the trigger,” he popped a single bullet into the barrel. “And the gun doesn’t go off, we take off an article of clothing.”

You hated him. 

You also hated the fact that you couldn’t find it within yourself to truly hate him. 

Your hands shook as you placed the lamp back down on the wooden table with a clatter, your eyes flickering back up to his. “And what happens once we’re naked, huh? Why not just say that you want to see me naked. You haven’t exactly been a gentleman this entire time.” Your voice was shaking, and he seemed to take advantage of the weak tremor. He knew that all he had to do was calm you down. Lay out the facts all nice and pretty for you so that you can finally make your decision. 

“I do want to see you naked.” He didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t shy away from telling you the truth, because there would be no use in denying it. He had already confessed his feelings. He knew that you felt how stiff he was this morning, pressed up against your side. Tex might be a mass murderer, but he wasn’t a fuckin’ liar. There was very little that the blue eyed man hated more than a filthy liar. “But like I said. . . I think it’s about time that we cut the bullshit. I love chasing after you. We’ve got a fun little game goin’, the two of us.” He motioned between the two of you with the gun, his eyes twinkling as he looked at your face. “But I want you, and I know that you want me.” He took a step closer to you, and if you hadn’t already cornered yourself against the nightstand, then you would have taken a step back. 

Your hand gripped tightly onto the edge of the table, eyes widening as he crossed the room so that he could stand in front of you. He was so close that your chests were touching. The bullets clattered against the wood behind you, but he kept the gun secure in his hand. “There’s just one bullet in the cylinder.” He assured you, angling the gun so that you could see. 

Through all the niceties and gentle touches, you had never stopped reminding yourself that Tex was slightly insane. He had to be a little crazy to join Charlie. This was your first time seeing that part of him. His eyes were wild as they took in the scared expression on your face, almost like he was enjoying your fear. He liked the meek, meager little expression on your face and the way that you had cornered yourself. If only you knew the half of it. If only you knew how turned on he was just by your glassy eyes alone. He wanted to possess you, body and soul. If he could have hollowed out your bones and fit his way inside of them- he would have. 

‘Surely,’ He thought as he looked down at you. ‘No one has ever loved anyone else quite as much as I love her.’ 

“Here, I’ll teach ya how to do it.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, causing you to jump. He could feel your little heart pounding against his side, and it reminded him of a little rabbit. Jumpy, terrified, but just as adorable. “You press this button to release the cylinder,” He demonstrated for you. “And then you spin it. Don’t worry about the bullet coming out. It’s in there snug.” And then he slapped the cylinder back in place, putting the gun in your shaky palm. His large, warm hand swallowed yours up whole as he raised your arm, rubbing your finger so that he could nudge it onto the trigger. “And then you squeeze the trigger.” He raised the gun and your arm up to the side of his head. 

You could have vomited, the fear gripping you so hard that you found it hard to breathe. But there was this strange sensation- a heat pooling in your abdomen as you thought about where this all might lead. You could try to convince yourself that you wanted him to die all you wanted, but the gun against the man’s head was a terrifying sight. Being alone on this ranch would most likely have deadly consequences, but that wasn’t it. That wasn’t the reason why you were so terrified of him dying. The truth was entirely unwelcome: you liked him. God damn it, you actually liked him. 

“I’ll go first.” He stated, not a hint of fear in his eyes. He looked at you hungrily, like he could devour you whole. He pressed his finger down on yours, and in turn you were steadily putting pressure on the trigger. You wanted to say no. Wanted to scream at him to stop and that you changed your mind. You couldn’t find your voice. Your tongue felt swollen in your mouth, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. 

There was a heat pooling between your legs that you felt insanely guilty about. 

Before you knew it the trigger had been pulled completely, a soft click echoing around the silent room. He smiled brightly at you, slowly removing his hand from yours. Your arm fell limply at your side, the gun still in your hand. He had just pulled the trigger and hadn’t even flinched. He could have died, and it would have been nobody else’s fault except for his, and he didn’t seem to care. The danger seemed to rile him up. 

“Looks like I’m safe.” The jean button up shirt that he was wearing was the first article of clothing to come off. His long, nimble fingers made quick work with the buttons. 

You watched as he slipped the faded blue fabric from off of his shoulders, revealing his lean body. His skin was golden from long hours spent outside in the California sun. No matter how skinny he appeared to be in his clothes, you could tell that he was surprisingly strong. The muscles in his arms and shoulders were on full display, his prominent v-line disappearing beneath his jeans. He was beautiful. Truly beautiful. 

You hated him for that too. 

The gun suddenly felt very heavy in your hand, and you remembered that it was now your turn to go. You brought the revolver up, twisting your hand this way and that to take a good look at it. You wanted to prolong this moment. You needed to calm your pounding heart or else you feared that it might stop all together. People could die from fear, right? You sucked in a breath, nearly jumping out of your skin when Tex made a small noise right across from you. It was a breathy sounding groan that felt so out of place during a moment like this. You let your eyes flicker up to his face, noticing his flushed cheeks and parted lips. 

“That gun looks so pretty in your hands, honey.” He licked his lips, motioning towards the gun hurriedly. “Show it to me.” His voice was now barely above a whisper. 

You felt confused yet again, his reactions coming across as unnatural. Here you were, standing before him with a loaded weapon, and he was moaning at the mere sight of you. “You’re crazy.” You whispered, your hand beginning to shake as you raised the gun a little more, nearly pointing it at him. 

His lashes fluttered as he stared at your hand, taking his bottom lip between his teeth so that he could bite down on it. You nearly dropped the weapon when you watched him readjust himself in his jeans, your eyes widening as you finally realized that he was hard. He was actually getting off on all of this. You let your eyes drink in the sight of him for a few more seconds. You traced the shape of him through the pants, trying hard not to dwell on the fact that he appeared large, even through the cloth. 

Slowly, never taking your eyes off of him, you did as you were taught. Your finger pressed against the cylinder release, gave it a good spin, and then slapped it back into place. Tex seemed tense as he watched the cylinder spin, but relaxed when he noticed something that your eyes didn’t. Your hand shook as you brought the gun to your head and pulled back the hammer. 

“You're safe, baby. I wanna see you do it. Pull the trigger.” 

You hated that you trusted him so implicitly. You squeezed down on the trigger, squeezing your eyes shut as your heart continued to pound away in your chest. The clicking sound echoed in your ears, your arm limply falling to your side as the damn near euphoric relief spread through you. It fizzled hot in your blood like champaign, setting every nerve ablaze. At the sight of your heaving chest Tex took a step closer to you, reaching out for the gun. He licked his lips hungrily as he stared at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he took in your relieved expression. The flush on your cheeks was adorable. He took the gun from your shocked form, giving you a few seconds to recuperate before he reminded you of the rules. 

You just stood there staring at him, bubble gum lips parted as you sucked in air. You looked like a deer in headlights, and he wanted to devour you. The need to touch you, any part of you was overwhelming. It had been for weeks. Some nights he only pretended to sleep, just so that he could press himself against you. Feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest under his hand. He wanted to rip you to shreds only to put you back together again, piece by piece. Tex’s adams apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, clenching his jaw as he tried to show restraint. You hadn’t turned him down yet. Not today at least. You wanted this. You were okay with this. 

He had you and he was never going to lose you. He’d keep you locked up and tied down if he had to. And if you ever happened to get away from him, he’d find you. Ohh. . . he’d find you. 

You jerked back in shock as you felt the cold barrel of the gun press against your belly, Tex using it to push the fabric up. You’d been too busy staring at him to remember the rules of the game. Now it was your turn to remove something. 

“Off.” Was all he said, his eyes burning holes into your body. 

You gripped the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head before tossing it onto the ground. You wanted to hide yourself away from him once you realized that you weren’t wearing a bra. You started to cover yourself up, but stopped as Tex merely shook his head. Don’t hide from me. 

 It was nothing he hadn’t already seen though. The pictures. 

The reminder of them made your stomach tighten, the heat between your legs becoming more prominent. Your face heated up in shame as you finally gave in. You surrendered to the full truth of it all. You couldn’t hide or run from it any longer. There was no escaping it anymore. 

Tex’s devotion turned you on. Tex’s obsession made you feel loved and taken care of and you wanted to fuck him. You’d been attracted to him this entire time, too blinded by your own fear to realize that you were fucked up enough to develop feelings. Maybe it was familial trauma. Maybe it was all of the bad dates you’d been subjected to. Or maybe it was just you. Either way, there it was. All out in the open for you. You weren’t nearly as insane as Tex. You were no killer. You didn’t have it in you to hurt a fly, but his hands were capable. 

He was big and strong. He could protect you. He was begging to let you relinquish your control and let him look after you. You’d never been looked after in your life, and yet here he was, looking at you like you were the messiah. You watched those big, capable hands clench into fists as he took you in. He was trying not to touch you. 

“As soon as you give me the word. . . i’m going to eat you alive.” Those blue eyes were pinning you down, narrowed and heavy and so full of adoration. 

You could feel your slick already pooling in your underwear, your eyes fluttering closed for just a second as you tried to ground yourself. You had to stay steady. You had to play this game with him for just a little longer. He was practically vibrating with need and you wanted to test him. Wanted to see him fall apart before he absolutely destroyed the last bit of sanity you were clinging to. 

He pressed the button, spun the cartridge all while watching it closely and then slammed it closed. He pressed the barrel right back up to his temple, pulling the trigger without flinching. Without blinking. 

“Are ya gonna let me have it?” You couldn’t fully process what he was asking you, just that his accent was sexy and his voice was so deep that it was vibrating in his chest. 

“H-Have what?” You licked your lips, not missing the way he followed your tongue with his eyes. 

He might as well have already been inside of you. Your knees were already starting to buckle and he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

“Your body,” He handed you the gun, pulling his already undone jeans off of his legs. “I already own your soul, but I want it all. I want ya so bad that I nearly came in my pants just seein’ your tits. So are ya gonna give it to me now, or are ya gonna make me wait longer? Cause I can’t take it anymore, darlin’. I can’t keep lovin’ ya the way that I do and not fuck ya.” 

Your eyes flickered back down to his crotch, your mouth filling with saliva as you noticed how hard he was. You could make out the exact shape of him, his length uncomfortably trapped beneath his tight briefs. He was gorgeous. Absolutely perfect. 

And you didn’t answer at first. 

Instead you just played the game. You pressed the button. You spun the cartridge while he watched closely. You slammed it back in place and then you pressed it against your temple. “Let me touch you. Fuck. . . Please let me just touch you.” Click. 

You tossed the gun onto the bed, unbuttoning your own bell bottoms and pulling them down and off of your legs. You kicked them away from you, nodding your head towards the gun so that he would feel inclined to continue himself. He was in disbelief. Not only were you playing along but you seemed to be liking it just as much as he was. How could someone be as perfect as you were? How could you be real? He scooped the gun back up, knowing that there was just one more thing he had left to take off. 

“If I take these off, will you add them to your little collection?” His eyes flickered down to your panties. The pretty pink bow. The lacy red fabric. He turned his attention towards the other side of the bed, realizing that you must have seen every secret that he kept hidden in his room. This turned him on even more. His hips involuntarily jutted forward, meeting nothing but air. 

“F-Fuck. . .” He didn’t have words. He wanted to tease you and make it harder on you, but he could barely function. He was beginning to get scared that if you did let him touch you, that he might hurt you. He might lose himself completely. Tex didn’t mind though. You owned him. He was all yours. 

And so he went through the motions one last time. Button, spin, and shoot. He watched to make sure that he was safe from the bullet, pulling the trigger that one last time. He didn’t let go of the gun this time when he shrugged off his underwear, his cock springing loose. He watched you take him in. You drank in the sight of him, the poor thing practically throbbing with need. He was bigger than anyone else you’d ever been with, and a part of you worried whether or not you’ll actually be able to comfortably take him. His angry red tip was weeping with pre cum, his underwear slick and stained with it as he licked it away from him. That was all it took. 

“Please.” And your voice sounded so small. So pathetic. So broken. 

He lurched forward, his muscles already tense and ready to attack. His lips pressed against yours so hard that you thought that your top lip might be bleeding. The free hand that wasn’t holding the gun gripped the side of your head, holding you to him as he forced his tongue into your mouth, his teeth gently knocking against yours as he opened his mouth to absorb your shaky breaths. Your mouths moved in sync, his lips as pillow soft as you expected them to be. He smelled so good fresh out of the shower, his warm hands all over you, cold drops of hair falling onto your shoulders as he pressed your bare chests against one another. He couldn’t be close enough. You bit his bottom lip, your eyes fluttering open just so that you could see him only to find that he was already watching you with half lidded eyes. He moaned into your mouth as he realized that he had been caught. The guttural sound, the smell of him as well as the way that he tasted was enough to make you bite down harder on his lower lip, his hips jerking forward as he grunted in pain. You could taste blood. 

His blood. 

You licked that up to, hands gripping at anything you could reach. 

You felt something press into the hem of your panties, shivering against the cold metal as he brought the gun down further and further. He pressed the barrel against your heat, rubbing and nudging, stimulating you. You gasped loudly as you became aware of the fact that he was touching you with the gun. He stopped his movement against your clit only for a second, using the gun to slip your panties to the side. You felt it now against your bare skin, sliding against your soaking core. 

“You’re so wet… are you turned on by this, darlin’? Are you just as fucked up as I am?” All you could do was moan, letting him hug you tighter against him as he spoke into your hair. “I’m gonna fuck you and make you mine. Rub my cum all over you, that way everyone will know you belong to me.” You nodded, your cheek rubbing against his stumbled chin as you began working your hips against the gun. 

“So needy. You wanna be filled, honey? Want me to fill you up?” You could feel the barrel of the gun stretching you as he pushed it further and further inside. He was fucking you with a gun. 

This man was fucking you with a gun. 

You mewled as you moved your hips, your legs buckling beneath you as he continued his attack. Again and again he pushed it up inside of you, watching your face intently as he held you closer against his chest. He held up most of your weight as you leaned into him. He loved seeing your soft features pinched, eyes pinched shut, hips moving against his hand in a desperate search for release. He needed you. Needed you now. 

Inside inside inside. 

He tossed the gun somewhere onto the bed, his hands shaking like a mad as he tore the panties down your lips. You heard the fabric tear in his haste, already crawling onto the bed in an attempt to have him in you. You couldn’t deny him anymore. You couldn’t stop yourself. 

“Oh god, I love you.” He thrust in, not giving you even a second. Not letting you take him inch by inch. He was ripping you apart. Stretching you out. Molding him to the shape of his dick. You cried out, moving forward as if to get away from him. The pressure in your abdomen was insane. You could practically feel him in your stomach. Your attempts at escaping him only spurred him on more though, his hips slamming into you, making you take all of him. Forcing you to take it all. 

And you wanted it. Every inch. 

The pleasure and pain all blended into white hot passion. It was impossible to deny the chemistry between the two of you now. There was no getting rid of it anymore. 

“I’m gonna fuck my cum so deep inside of you. Do you want me to get you pregnant? Fucking ruin you so that you’ll be stuck with me.” And you didn’t know why you were nodding but you were. He was just fucking into you so well, hitting that same spot inside of you again and again. The spot that had you seeing stars. 

His hands moved up to your breasts, his touch so hot that he was practically scalding you. His fingers pinched at your nipples as he continued to point into you. The pleasure was too much. It felt too good. All of this had been building for weeks now. It was almost as though all of that had been foreplay. Every touch. Every heated stare. All of it. 

“Say it. I wanna hear you tell me that you’re mine.” He was talking through clenched teeth now, still slamming into you. He yanked your head up by your throat, wanting to look in your eyes. Wanting to see your lovely lips shape the words. 

“I-I’m yours!” His hips stuttered, his loud moan only spurring you on. “I’m yours Tex. All yours. Please- please!” You weren’t even sure what you were begging for. The pleasure was building though, ready to snap. 

“Give it to me. Cum- I want to feel you milk my cock. That’s a good lil girl. Come on.” 

It was at his urging that you let go. Almost on command. Your muscles tensed, your eyes rolled back, and you could barely breathe. You must have called out his name. Must have screamed because he was fucking you even harder, panting in your ear as he pressed you down further into the mattress. 

“That’s it, honey. Keep sayin’ my name. I want everyone downstairs to hear. Fuck, don’t stop.” So you didn’t. He ripped the orgasm straight out of you, chasing his own like a madman. 

He came with something akin to a roar, his sweat slick arm wrapping around your throat, cutting off your airway as he hugged you tighter to him. You could feel his length twitching inside of you. Pumping you full. Giving you every drop. He fucked you through it, pushing the cum in as deep as he could. 

He stilled after a while, gathering himself for a second before he pulled out, resting his hand against the mattress as he climbed over you on top of the bed. He was still panting hard when you finally found enough strength to turn over and face him. 

He was back to looking like an angel again. 

Wet hair sticking to his sticky cheeks, lips red and kiss swollen, and eyes glassy. He looked at you like you were God. And to him you were. 

Your love was like god. Wholly. Infinite. 

And all his.

special special special thanks to my sweet lil sluts. once again, they assisted emotionally with this fic and even beta read a few chunks! I heard russian roulette with tex and here it is. . . @babylovepresley @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @woundmetender @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @headfullofpresley @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny

@knoxvillesshoes@cosmorant@ol1viam@simply-sams-things@haim80s@gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@busy-bee-angel-misska@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @dark-as-love@anni-secret-account-75@ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala @obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@vane28282@mirandastuckinthe80s@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@fxntxsix@petrparkrslut@eliseinmemphis @lelifesaver @screaching-cookie@fantuhsise@areuirish @bcofl0ve@mslizziesblog@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior

[azumasoroshi]

man you know that one trope where the enemy comes to the protag's house (or vice versa) when they're hurt and is like "i didnt know where else to go"

i fuckin love that like. unconscious draw dynamic with shizaya where only when they're not in their right mind (probably from blood loss or sleep deprivation) do they start to unconsciously seek each other out

like they'll just start walking and not really know where they're going but they find themselves at each others' houses and by the time they realize where they are, the other one's already opened the door and is frozen

or like. shizuo doesnt even realize he's trailing izaya's scent until he runs into izaya himself, or izaya doesnt realize he's headed to ikebukuro until the train comes to a stop and he's like oh. huh

shizuo's walking around idly when he catches a glimpse of izaya bleeding as he runs away and izaya's thinking that he can't get caught by shizuo right now because shizuo will definitely hurt him, but shizuo chases after izaya anyway and he's not even sure why because it's not anger clouding his actions anymore but something else (concern?? nooo it couldnt be)

shizuo's always been better at sensing izaya through raw instinct than izaya is at sensing him but when izaya's tired enough to let go of some of his repressed emotions and constantly-running brain he finds that his instinct carries him to shizuo as well

like. just the magnetic force between them. i need more of it the flavor is so good because sometimes they dont even want it to be there. izaya comes to shizuo and he's like fuck. i need to go home and sleep off this fucking bullet wound why am i HERE WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME

or shizuo gets a bad feeling out of nowhere and he's like damn the flea must be getting stabbed in an alley somewhere. dont care (he sets out on a walk a few minutes later and if he unconsciously starts checking alleyways that's no one's business but his own) (he doesn't actually find izaya dying in an alleyway but he does find a gang looking for him and maaaybe he roughs them up bit)

so insane over how subconscious their attachment to each other is please give me more fics about it lest i write them myself because this post already contains like 5 different fanfic plots

[evilwickedme]

I saw in the tags you mentioned spideypool fic recs 👂 I'm listening

breaking the DC streak to go to Marvel because fun fact I've been into DC for six months and into Marvel comics for eight years so

anyway a majority of my spideypool bookmarks are from 2015 and I have no idea if most of them are any good which is an interesting problem to have but I still have a solid list for y'all

Say Anything...Except That - I was following this from the first chapter and I'm now mutuals with the author which was very fanboy moment for me (if you're seeing this, hi!). it has a lot of old school fanfiction.net quirks to it which might be a bit difficult to swallow if you've only been reading fic for a few years, but honestly I think this fic is really good and holds up to this day. it's been a while since I read it last but iirc Deadpool has to protect Spider-Man or Peter from assassination attempts and there's a lot of pining involved. also mattfoggy ended up having a nice arc because this was 2015 and Daredevil had just aired (this is technically incomplete there's one chapter left but if I had to reread it multiple times when there were only like ten chapters you can handle it)

under attack - more fics by people who are wayyy too cool to have followed me back and yet somehow did? anyway this is part of stackthedeck's team red slash series (ELITE ship fyi) but this one is spideypool focused and has some nice fluff. fighting as flirting idk what else to say it's golden

#NoPlaceLikeHome - do y'all know ask-spiderpool? you should it's one of the best blogs on this damn website and a must-read for spideypool shippers. anyway this is that version of spideypool's first time together which is cute :D short and sweet basically. sciderman has a lot of fics for the spiderman fandom in general and their ask-spiderpool au in particular and they're all worth reading

Dissonance - another longfic that took half a decade to write about deadpool protecting spider-man from harm. I actually don't know why this trope is so good peter really can defend himself but there you go

Perfect Enough - ohm y gOD this fic series is so good. this au hinges on such a tiny difference in peter's history but it makes ALL the difference. anyway in this world basically nobody has a functional secret identity anymore except for spider-man. meanwhile, wade wilson and peter parker start dating. so much plot, two separate longfics each around 140k, good luck this CONSUMED my life

speaking of consumed, rippling - this is part of a series called Into the Multiverse and is based on the Spiderverse film so it's Peter B. which I LOVE (spideybpool FUCKS). the series spun out of the authors' other series and it is, in fact, a pain to read the main entries in the series without reading the other serieses which means that I did spend two weeks doing little to nothing except reading deniigiq's work, but a. it was worth b. this one can be read as a standalone! wade jumps in front of a bullet for peter b and he angsts about it I love it

finally ahem speaking of Peter B, did you know I've been writing spideypool fic since 2015 and I wrote one specifically for spiderverse? I'm a mess (but I'm the mess that you wanted) is really a mix of spiderverse and comic canon like, five years into the future, and deals mostly with like, depression and suicidal ideation on Peter's behalf, but hey there's also a plot AND a happy polyam ending which, what else could you want really

anyway sorry the list isn't longer I didn't bookmark so many of my favorite spideypool fics and now they're lost in the void forever :/

[rcksmith]

Not you — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “Five Hargreeves x fem!reader, Fluff prompts 9, 52 and 53, please? (You can do this whenever you feel like it) Five and Y/n are both hit by one of Hazel and Cha-Cha’s bullets in the Gimbel Brothers store and they immediately go to the academy (Five wants Y/n treated as soon as possible.) after they’re fine, the siblings start to question them on Five’s protectiveness over Y/n”

“Hii could I request 4 & 23 off the fluff prompts for Five pls ty 😌✨”

Fluff prompts:

4. “Sweetheart, you’re my entire world”

9. “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?!" "No, that girl is my wife!”

23. “i’ve dreamt about this.”

52. "Help her first."

53. “There are no limits when it comes to you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these two requests, since they were the same energy and they prompts connect to a central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

I used here some fragments of the central plot of Five, but, guys, keep in mind that he is 20 years old, and that when he comes back to 2019 Five does not make a mistake in the calculations. I changed the location of the fight too, but a really I hope you, Anon # 1, don't mind.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: blood, mention of death, swearing, fluff too.

— — — — —

You remembered perfectly when you met Five Hargreeves, the commission's golden ball, The Handler's award-winning shamrock. If you closed your eyes, even after years, you could still smell the male cologne wafting in the air, and you could relive the same feeling in the pit of your stomach that you had when he looked at you with those obsedian eyes.

Five Hargreeves was gorgeous. Absurdly gorgeous. But absurdly arrogant, boastful, presumptuous and completely absent of any delicacy in relation to empathy and kindness. He was the type who would open the door for you to enter first, but who would be the first to make fun of your erroneous reasoning.

And that was why, at the time, when you were assigned to be his partner, you lived in conflict with what you really felt. It was a mixture of tantrum and physical attraction.

But unlike all the people around Five, when he spit fire at you with all the anger at his difficult temper, you didn't run. In fact, when it exploded the first time in front of you, you crossed your arms, arched an eyebrow and looked at him with boredom.

“Have you finished your show yet?” You said, as if you didn't care, leaning against the hood of the car while Five screamed through the 7 winds “Stop to imply with everything.”

Five had been your partner for a few months now and it became clearer each day that the irritation was mutual. He made it perfectly clear that you pissed him off until his last hair.

But, unlike you, it was for another reason.

Shit, you were a fucking goddess! Your beauty was notorious, but that was not all that caught his attention. You were smart, canny, brave, Five never saw you in fear of any situation or shaken by any scene of blood. You knew your goals and went after them. It was strong, decisive, and, goddamn, he loved it. You had a fist, you were firm, and you always made it very clear that you were no helpless maiden.

It felt like you had gotten out of his imagination, from the daydreams in which Five rambled about what kind of woman he admired. And, hell, you came with the full package. It was a combination of overwhelming beauty, intelligence, dexterity, and he never thought that someone like that could be real.

But of course you were. And now Five was completely irritated because you were real, and not just another his dream and daydream in which a sublime woman starred.

“To Imply?” Five turned to you, eyes on fire “To Imply?!”

“Like a 2-year-old who didn't take his afternoon nap. It's not the end of time, it doesn't have to be childish.”

Now Five felt himself ignite. He was a dry, rough fire and you were gasoline, igniting everything saw ahead.

Was that damn woman calling he a child?! You?! Just you, the person whose Five wanted to tie the bed and do all kinds of sinful things.

Oh hell no!

Five came forward, furious, like an angry god, his coal eyes never leaving your direction.

“Childish, isn't it?” He snarled “I'm going to show you the childish!”

Five held your face tightly in his hands and pressed your lips to his. Fierce, needy, set on fire, lost in half sentences of feelings about you. He slid his hands to the back of your neck, closing his fingers in your hair and invading your mouth with his tongue, letting you taste the caffeine, danger and lust he had.

You sighed, or Five, or both. You held him as close as he was, with the two of you being on the same mission: to conquer, to take, to possess. But Five had an extraordinary intensity, a magnitude that managed to win you

Then your touch became more docile, your kiss became submissive and you were surrendered. When Five walked away, not with his body, he still held you against him, but with his head, enough to look you in the eye, you sighed.

“I’ve dreamt about this.” You gave up your game, because you couldn't pretend anymore, and Five responded by kissing you again, this time tasting your whole mouth.

After that day, Five and you never came apart. You two were like a dynamic duo, crime partners in the morning and intense lovers at night.

But Five spent so much time with affection, love and caring being denied that when, on a night when work got the best of him, Five fell into the bed you shared in a Motel room, very close to your lap and you smiled sweetly and ran your fingers through his black hair, establishing the affection there, Five was catatonic.

His wild mind wanted to take it away and go, tell you to swallow those loving gestures and that he would never need them. That they were a nuisance, a distraction.

But his body and heart... well, they begged Five to stay another second. Just one more second enjoying that touch, the care, the importance that someone felt for him. He liked to be pampered, who knew.

So he ended up falling asleep with your touch and, after that day, Five realized that if his body and heart couldn't get any further from you, then no one would ever take you away from him. You would stay with him, until the end. As long as you wanted to stay.

And you wanted to. You wanted all the stages, all the moments, all the fights. You wanted Five, completely. And after some time like that, he said that you two were going to get married. It wasn't a request, it wasn't a speculation, it was a fact and that's it. You laughed, it was Five's style to be embarrassed about something and treat it more coarsely, just because he didn't know how to deal with the emotions he felt.

“Of course I do.” You reassured him by bringing your hands to his face, tracing affectionate circles on his cheek with your thumb.

“You would have no other option.” He grunted, not looking at you, trying to divert attention from his own racing heart.

You laughed and sealed the future of the two of you with a kiss.

After five years of making it official, Five said he had found a way for him to get home. And as he spoke, you noticed a flickering hesitation in his eyes. You knew, at that moment, that Five would leave it behind if there was a chance that you wouldn't want to go along. He promised to love you, in joy and sadness, in difficult times and in good times, and he never broke a promise.

Five Hargreeves would stay for you. In 1963, in 1988, in 2019, it didn't matter the season, the year. It wouldn't be worth anything if didn't have you by his side.

But, like him, it was logical that you would never abandon him, ever. So you went along. It was together in the murder in 1963, it was together at the time of the target, and it was together when he jumped in the portal. You were with Five when he reunited with his family, they all amazement by the 13 year old little brother who disappeared to reappear as a man of 25. On top of that accompanied by a girl.

But Five still couldn't administer his emotions properly, he still couldn't say that he missed his brothers and that being without his family had been terrible. His past contained many shipwrecks and he did not know how to open up about it. After so many years alone and then killing without any judgment, it was difficult to connect with emotions.

So, instead of saying everything that screamed inside him, after just some time with the siblings he took your hand and pulled you out, telling the Hargreeves that he would go after a decent coffee.

“I wish I could have talked to them better.” You grumble whit Five and he rolled his eyes.

“As if they were going to understand the things you were going to explain.” He murmured, covering the whole issue of the Commission and time jumps.

“This is not difficult to explain.” You raised your left hand, signaling the silver circle that hugged your finger.

Five laughed, sipping his coffee.

“You will be my wife forever, there is plenty of time for you to tell that.”

But as soon as Five's words had just left your lips, blowing in the air like fog, the door to the store opened, and you two didn't have to turn around to find out who they were. Years on the commission have earned you enough training to even recognize the sound of their footsteps.

The exchange of looks that Five and you gave was enough to know what each one was thinking and how they would act. That was your secret language, the superpower that you two shared. No words were needed to understand each one like the back of your hand.

You took a deep breath, while your fingers on your right hand steadied yourself on the coffee cup and Five on the knife. There was no waiting for speeches, exchanging words, you both knew that the Commission would send the best agents besides you, and Hazel and Cha-Cha were not known to be late at work.

Then the action started, Five turned and teleported with the knife, shoving it into the leg of one of the agents covered in rabbit masks. You didn't stay behind and swivel your chair around, throwing the sizzling coffee into the second's hands, causing him to drop the gun on the floor. You didn't wait to kick him in the chest, making him stagger backwards as you got up from the chair. You and Five were good, but so was Hazel and Cha-Cha, and you couldn't count on the powers to dodge physical attacks.

Everything was very fast indeed, windows were broken, punches were exchanged, blood was plucked. But when you looked to the side and saw who was probably Cha-Cha pushing Five against a broken glass stake, you understood why love at work was so dangerous. You understand completely. Because you've lost your focus. It took a thousandth of an instant for years of training and improvement to be thrown out the window. Only the possibility of Five getting hurt got you off track, and that was fatale.

The agent who fought with you took advantage of your distraction, reaching for the gun that was on the floor in that split second. And a shot reverberated through the place.

Suddenly, the world for Five stopped the axis. Everything was suspended, appalled, frozen. And in that very second, his body shivered from head to toe, as if misfortune had sighed in his neck. Five Hargreeves never feared anyone, even death itself. But as soon as he heard the sound of the shot, Five tasted death. Was rough, metallic and cruel, the blood drained from the body and the world released a dark and funeral note, sinking into a black sea.

Because fear is not the bullet hitting you, but someone you love.

Five turned back, eyes wide, hands shaking, and he didn't know what was beating faster: his fear or his heart.

He would remember that moment as the most cruel and frightening of his entire life, years in the apocalypse and killing had no comparison to the terror that was seeing your white shirt start to be stained with blood, the bullet hole marking your abdomen. You looked up at him, shocked, livid, and Five could see death perfectly, pulling the vitality out of your eyes.

He didn't think, he didn't reason, he just teleported himself to you, taking your body in his arms and teleported you two away from there. Five’s hands were shaking, a visceral pain snaking through his body and suffocating him with the worst sensation Five had ever felt in his life.

He took you both to the Hargreeves mansion in the blink of an eye, his powers failing when the blue flash left you both in the giant living room.

“Five!”

Maybe it was Luther's voice, or Klaus, or Diego, he didn't know. Everything was a distant echo, a note submerged in the water. Five saw or heard nothing but your body in his arms, your eyes closed and face frighteningly pale, his right hand, which was pressing on your wound, was already soaked in blood.

It was too much blood, the smell was overwhelming, and for the first time in a long time, Five Hargreeves was in despair.

Hands touched his shoulders, and Grace's voice was heard in the background. But he didn't want treatments, whatever the goddamn his wounds were going to be.

“Help her first!” Five shouted, his voice finding strength in the terror he felt. And also in fury.

The Handler would pay for that, and so would Hazel and Cha-Cha. And, by God, the whole world would pay if you never opened your eyes again.

“Right now.” Maybe it was Pogo “But, Five, are you…”

“No!” He ordered “She first!”

Then Grace's hands took you out of his arms and Five refused to leave you for even a second. He was beside you at the operating table, holding your hand, with him bloody fingers of your blood and the agent he had fought.

But Five didn't care about the himself state, the people around it, or anything. His eyes were focused on you, his face frozen in a livid expression.

And when Grace said that you would need a blood transfusion and Five barely let her finish speaking before rolling up the manga and extending his arm, the siblings Hargreeves and Pogo were shocked. What they saw in Five's eyes was not a man afraid of losing someone, but of losing the person he loved.

I shouldn't have come back. Was Five's first thought when the surgery ended well and you were still asleep. It was his fault that you almost died. And everything was buzzing in Five's head like a propellant.

“So…”

Klaus appeared in the kitchen, with the siblings, while Five was washing the blood from his hands, now calmer since you were alive.

“That was heavy.” Luther let out a little gasp, a kind of choked laugh.

“Aren't you going to tell us what happened?” Allison sat at the table.

“She almost died because of my decision, that's what happened.” Five replied, turning and picking up a cloth from the table, drying his hands.

“Five...” Allison made his eyes go towards his sister “Who is she, actually ?”

Five gave a bitter laugh. Who were you? How would he explain it?

You are everything. The reason wake up everyday was good, what made the summer breeze and the sun's rays warm, the reason why his world was still spinning.

Who were you? It was absolutely everything for Five.

“Someone very important.” His whispered escaped.

“So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend ?!" Luther looked at Five in shock, as if the possibility of him having a girlfriend was absurd.

“No.” Five looked at Luther with fire in his eyes, his voice hoarse “That girl is my wife!”

The room's breath evaporated, everyone was dumbfounded and bewildered. But Grace came in at that moment, saving Five from continuing that conversation.

“She woke up.” His mother's voice was soft, and Five dropped everything he was doing and disappeared into the blue flash.

The first thing he noticed when he entered that room was you sitting on the bed, your back against the headboard.

“Hey...” the smile you gave made Five's world spin again.

He didn't wait a second before walking up to you in quick steps, holding your face in his hands and sealing your lips in a desperate kiss, as if that could prove that everything was fine.

“I thought I lost you.” He whispered against your lips, hands shaking, thumbs stroking yours cheeks.

“Bad vase doesn't break early.” You joked and Five laughed softly, his forehead touching your. “Were you hurt?”

He denied it, still with you, as if letting you was impossible. Maybe it was.

“I got distracted, I'm sorry that we let them escape and...”

Five interrupted your sentence

“Sweetheart…” You stopped, bewitched by his tone of voice “You’re my entire world.”

Five wasn't calling Hazel and Cha-Cha right now. He would kill that entire Commission later. Later. Now the only thing that mattered was you.

“I shouldn't have broken our contracts with the commission. I shouldn't have put you in this.” He said “But ... but I am very selfish, and even though I knew it would be better to let you go back to the Commission, I cannot live without you...”

“Hey, I not go come back.” You held his hands that were on your face, looking at him with love "My place is with you.”

“I promise you that I will never let anyone else hurt you. Even if I have to kill every single person on this planet. ” Five guaranteed “There are no limits when it comes to you. I'll do anything to keep you safe. ”

You smiled, put your lips together in a passionate kiss and whispered:

“I only need you, my love. Forever.”

[rollercoasterwords]

hi rae!! i was wondering if you could tell us more about your writing process :)) im very curious about it. like, do you brainstorm then write or write whatever flows or both. do you painstakingly line edit after or just give it a glance for any mistakes. im mostly curious about atydsp bc its so exceptionally well written and it absolutely boggles my mind that you were posting a ch a day. how much of your time for atydsp involved editing/scrapping & rewriting/etc? xx

hi sure i'd be happy to!! gonna put this under a cut tho bc it got long lol

for atydsp (+ my captive prince rewrite) my process was pretty different from my other writing in that i basically descended into a feverish haze of obsession and literally abandoned all other hobbies just to write bc i loved the story so much lol. for atydsp especially that thing was like...my only hobby for half a year like i was not reading or watching tv or movies or playing video games etc bc the only thing i wanted 2 do in my free time was. write.

when i'm rewriting a story from another character's pov i usually have the ch of whatever i'm rewriting open next to word doc and just kinda go 2 town. i think it's much easier when you aren't having to do the heavy lifting when it comes to plot and are following an outline, bc obviously you aren't having to do much story planning urself--although for the later chs of atydsp where i sort of broke off from the og version + the chs where r + s are separated + i had to write new scenes for s i did have to spend more time planning, writing, editing, etc, but i didn't start posting the story until i'd already written the first 20 chs so. i had a pretty large buffer and that combined with the obsession combined with the shorter chapters + outline to follow is why i was able to post so frequently.

when i'm writing a new fic there's much more brainstorming involved bc obviously i am having 2 come up w a whole new plot!! but bc i'm only writing fic for fun i don't really take it too seriously and usually i just cobble together a couple of fun scenes or tropes that i like and then sort of...fill in the blanks? like if i'm like "ok i want to write a scene where x happens and then later a scene where y happens" i usually end up figuring out a plot/how to keep the story moving between those two scenes, rather than vice versa (having like...a coherent plot and then coming up with fun scenes that fit into it). like my current wip started as just a single idea of "ooh what if there was a werewolf fighting ring" and then it become a voldemort-won au bc i was like hmmm in what situation would r + s meet at a werewolf fighting ring...and then i decided it would eventually turn into a horcrux hunt bc i was like "ok if r + s grew up in a voldemort-won au...what would james be doing...." and now the story is continuing to change as i continue to have ideas of like "ooh what if i incorporated this trope" or "ooh this would be such a fun scene to write." like lily + james's entire dynamic in this fic basically grew out of an idea that i had for a single argument that i wanted to write lmao

anyway when it comes to actual writing process i usually go into a ch with just a vague outline of a few bullet points, and if i'm stuck on something i send a voicenote to my sister just like...talking through my thoughts + what i want to happen + usually by the end of the voicenote i'll have figured out what direction i wanna take things. or sometimes i'll ask her opinion (the ending i'm planning rn for atwmd changed completely after one such consultation...had an idea but then talked myself out of it but then my twin was like wait....i think that idea works better than what ur currently planning....and i was like damn maybe ur right....). so most of my planning + brainstorming is basically just me daydreaming + then talking 2 myself lmao.

when it comes to actual writing i'm pretty slow because i'm too much of a perfectionist and i need everything to sound right. immediately. like i have heard the advice so many times "just get something down on the page then go back and edit it later" but i am like. incapable of following it lol i will write a sentence and then read over it three times to decide if i like it before i move on. the plus side to this is that my chs usually need very little editing; i generally just read over them once or twice and make a few minor tweaks and i'm good to go!

anyway. i have had some similar inquiries abt my writing process etc in the past so i'll tag this ask w 'writing tips' bc i think that's what i've used b4; hopefully this satisfied ur curiosity!