#genuinely thought he was about to go club his dad to death

[last-of-the-jaded]

To become a monster

[beelmons]

Golf lessons pt. 2

Pt2 of this blurb! Pairing: dbf!hotch x Fem!Reader Rating: NSFW, 18+ Word count: 2,757 CW: unprotected sex, kinda public sex, overstimulation, vaginal penetration. Tagging the two moots that inspired part 2 <3 @ssahotchnerr @ssamorganhotchner

As it turns out, being able to hit the ball was not enough golf expertise for the ever-so-perfectionist Aaron Hotchner. Regardless of both of your urges to do something entirely different, Aaron’s commitment to making you the next Tiger Woods forced you to stay in the golf club until almost midnight, and by that time everything was either closed or too lousy for him to ever consider taking you. At the end, he dropped you back home so you could pack for the retreat.

The thought of not seeing him again for an entire weekend was saddening, specially when it meant being shoved inside a room with your dad and his snobby friends, but the picture of him smiling at you, the proud, sly smile he would wear when you told him just how many holes in ones you scored, and how your pars were the best, and about your putts (you didn’t understand golf, like, at all) was the token you held onto to keep going.

The retreat was okay, you came up sixth out of the total twenty teams, so at least your dad was not a sulky mess, and he would go around showcasing your golf skills and how you “took after him”, even if it was also his first time seeing you play. To wrap up the event, there was an additional party with a “Sunday golf” theme, which meant everyone would go dressed in fancy sports clothes. Looking through your wardrobe, you were lost in your own mind trying to figure out what to wear when your phone chimed.

Mr. Aaron Hotchner: Apparently, today’s Sunday Golf party is open to friends and family as well. Your father has decided to invite me. Will you be attending?

Your eyes skimmed through the notification and a bright smile appeared on your face. Great, you got to see him sooner than you expected.

You: Yes, I’ll be there!

Mr. Aaron Hotchner: Great. Can’t wait to hear all about the golf competition.

You hugged the device to your chest in excitement, and the decision of what to wear suddenly seemed like a life and death situation, or so you felt until a very risky idea popped into your head.

The party looked like everything else you had seen during the weekend: bland and uninteresting. Across the venue you spotted your dad, who had gone ahead without you, sucking up to his boss and some other higher-ups. Your sight then landed on a handsome gentleman standing by the appetizers table, a couple of men his age chatting him up. He was wearing a white polo and khaki dress pants with a pair of brown shoes. He looked stunning as per usual. As if sensing your eyes on him, Hotch’s sight travelled to you; you watched him mutter an ‘excuse me’ to his acquaintances and he hurried in your direction.

“Hey!” he shouted lightly when he got closer, his arms quickly surrounding your waist to pull you into a happy hug, which you gladly returned “I have been hearing great things about you all day.” he pulled back from you to be able to look at your face.

“Well, apparently I did very good for a first timer” you answered him with a smile.

“I can tell. Your dad has done nothing but brag about it the whole night.”

“He has?” you asked with genuine surprise “So, golf, huh? Who would have thought that’s what it took for him to finally be proud of me.” you said in a self-deprecating tone.

“Don’t be so hard on him, he can be tough to deal with, but you are the apple of his eye” he tried to reassure you, but the huff of your cheeks let him know the comment was not exactly well received “Well, for that matter, I’m incredibly proud of you. You truly learned fast.” he continued in attempt to lessen the tension.

His strategy worked, because shortly you were back to a smiling mess. “I had a great teacher” you said with your eyes locked onto his “which reminds me, I still have to repay the favor. If I remember correctly, you asked for two, very simple things, didn’t you, Aaron?” you batted your eyelashes innocently as you spoke. Your hands travelled down to play with the hem of your skirt, raising it slightly to reveal some of the skin on your thighs. He couldn’t help but stare for a second, solely focused on how good your legs looked.

The moment your words dawned on him, his entire demeanor switched. His fingers gripped your wrist firmly, and with a rather rough tug he pulled you to the closest wall, forcing your back to be pressed against it, his body shielding your front from curious eyes. “Have you lost your mind?” he asked with a low voice “It’s bad enough that half these men have taken at least one look at your legs, do you know what would happen if someone noticed you’re not wearing underwear?” you could detect a hint of possessiveness in his tone, a frown plastered on his face, and so you found the opportunity to finally get what you wanted: him. Your fingers tugged at the sides of his shirt, his body still covering you from the stares of the rest of the guests.

“Then take me somewhere only you can see.” you almost whispered. He turned his head to try and spot your dad among the crowd, he seemed to be engrossed in whatever conversation he was having. He took a second look at you, and you watched as his eyes travelled quickly to your bottom piece of clothing.

He slipped his hand behind your back to guide you away from the main area of the venue and towards the bathrooms, constantly walking behind you to make sure no one else would try and pry at your rear. As you walked through the halls, you watched him snatch an ‘out of order’ sign from a random surface. Once you reached the entrance of the men’s bathroom, he gave you an order to wait for a second, he opened the door and tilted his head to look inside, once he made sure all the stalls were clear he gently pushed you in by the shoulders and hung the sign on the outside of the door.

“The men’s bathroom?” you cocked an eyebrow in his direction, a playful smile on your face.

“If your dad notices you’re gone, the first place he’ll look is your room. I don’t have one of my own because I’m an foreign guest, and men are three times less likely to ask staff for clarification about services not being provided than women.” he clarified as he locked the door; once he made sure it wouldn’t open he took a couple of steps closer to land his hands on your hips “but of course, if it makes you uncomfortable, we can always do this some other time.”

“Hell no, you’re not escaping this twice.” your tone was resolute and almost desperate, without wasting anymore time your arms threw themselves around his neck and you pulled him closer to land a kiss to his lips.

The gentleness which with he usually treated you was absolutely absent from the kiss, his mouth moved roughly against yours with his body pressing forward to close the gap between the two of you. Without so much as a warning, his hands slid from your hips to your thighs instead, he caressed his way up, lifting the skirt in the process, until he landed on your buttocks, the tightness of the squeeze he gave to them was for sure going to leave a mark, and the sensation and slight pain caused you to wince; the newly opened mouth was an invitation for his tongue to take control, you could feel it explore yours hungrily, heavy pants accompanying his movements.

“Hop.” he commanded against your lips, without a second thought you complied, and soon you were sitting on top of the lavatory counter. The coldness of the marble against your bare skin caused you to moan, and Aaron broke the kiss to shoot you a playful smile “Seems like you didn’t think this through.”

His comment allowed a blush to spread on your face. He had nailed it, you didn’t think anything through, actually, you were just so excited to see him, to be with him again, that you wanted to do something that would make him happy. “I thought this is what you wanted” you admitted with a shy tone.

“It’s you I want.” his eyes took a second to stare tenderly into yours before his lips attached to the base of your neck. Your hands tangled on his hair and your body arched forward, trying desperately to feel more of him. His own fingers snuck in between your pressed bodies to caress your slick, his middle finger prodded at the entrance, and you let out an unholy moan. His mouth attached onto yours once again with the full intention of shutting you up, two fingers slipping inside your hole. His pace was slow, painfully so, pulling in and out as if he was trying to figure out where to press best.

“Aaron.” you whispered into his mouth “No teasing, please, I need you.” you begged. He let out a chuckle, a little embarrassed of being found out, and nodded. He took a second to undo the zipper of his pants, seems like you weren’t the only one without underwear, and shortly after his member was freed.

Your legs instinctively pulled him closer at the sight. “Seems like someone’s eager.” he whispered, however he was just as desperate as you were, his right arm snaked around your body, pulling you to an angle that allowed his tip to hover at your entrance. Slowly, he began to thrust forward, giving you some time to adjust to his size. You buried your face in his neck and muttered a quiet ‘fuck’ against it. His hips began to move steadily, you could feel him fill you up, they were deep and passionate, his groans were ringing in your ear “you feel so good” he muttered against it.  

You were trying to keep your pants quiet, not wanting to cause a scene and have your dad find out you were fucking his best friend in the hotel bathroom, but he felt so good, so deep, that you couldn’t help but to let out a cry. Aaron pulled back and out of you, which caused you to whimper in protest, without a word, he forced you off the marble counter and turned you around, his hand pushing your head forward to have you bent over it instead “if you can’t keep quiet on your own, I will have to do it for you.” he raised the fabric covering your ass to expose the skin and gently guided his dick back to your entrance, his thrust, however, was way rougher compared to before. You almost let out another moan, but his hand was quick to cover your mouth tightly and it ended up muffled “seems like this will do” he whispered with a mocking tone.

His hips began to snap against yours again, faster and rougher, he was much more in control in this position. His lips focused on nibbling around the shell of your ear, trying his best for his moans to also be muffled. You could feel his balls hitting against the lower part of your pussy, your hands desperately looking for a place to grip, your throat emitting sounds trying to keep yourself sane. He felt you began to clench around him, and so he decided to slide his free hand down to rub around your sensitive clit. You could feel his rhythm become more erratic by the second, with you clenching furiously around him trying to hold back your orgasm and prolong the delicious encounter. Seeking for his release, he used one of his legs to push in between yours and slide your feet on the ground to spread them further open.

The mere gesture caused another muffled moan and you threw your head back. You were able to see yourself on the lavatory mirror, the whimpering mess you had become, and the focused, pleased expression that he had on his face. His fingers quickened the pace “Don’t push yourself for me, sweetheart, show me how good I’m making you feel.” he ordered against your ear; he leaned forward and landed a sweet kiss to your cheek, his hips never giving yours a second of rest. You snapped yours in return and when one of the thrusts was particularly deep, you let your climax take over you.

He clutched the area of your mouth tighter, making his best to push back most of the long moan that you let out. His hips began to lower his speed and his hand moved away from your face. “You still haven’t come.” you whispered trying to do your best to keep yourself propped onto your elbows.

“I’m close.” he answered as he straightened his back. He watched how his member entered and exited you, and the mere sight was making him even more excited “Can you behave for a little?” he mentioned referring to your sounds. You turned around to give him an eager nod and he responded with a smile. “Or perhaps you should let your voice out, so everyone out there can know how good I can treat you.”

You opened your mouth to answer, and in that instant his hands gripped your hips once again to snap your hips into his. You bit down on your bottom lip, hard, to avoid letting your wince come out. His thrusts went back to the original pace, and you could feel yourself just bouncing against the counter, your hands gripping the marble for dear life. His hands squeezed your ass tightly, pulling them back and forth to meet his rhythm. His member began to throb inside you, and you could feel him getting closer. “Inside.” you let out as you turned back to look at him “I want you to fill me up, Aaron” you whispered in between quiet moans.

Your expression was so erotic he couldn’t help himself. His hands gripped tighter on your already reddened rear, and they held your hips in position for his cock to slide all the way in, letting you feel the sensation of being filled up with his cum. You whimpered loudly and allowed him, slightly weak at the overstimulation he had accidentally caused.

He leaned forward to grab one of the paper towels before sliding out of you, his hand pressing it against your entrance to prevent his seed from dripping out on the floor. “We should clean you up.” he mentioned, suddenly very aware of what, and where, he had done.

“I can take care of it.” you said with a gentle smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“After we go out, please go back to your room and put something underneath.” he said almost like an order.

“Yes, sir.” you answered with a purposedly innocent smile.

He nodded approvingly and turned in the direction of the door, he was planning on  waiting outside to make sure no one would be there when you came out, that could cause suspicion, but before he actually exited he turned back around and gripped your face, in a blink, his lips were back on yours with such passion you would have thought round two was about to come. You responded with a gentle caress of his cheek and an opening of your mouth for his tongue to slip in once again. After a couple of seconds, he let go, and without another word he sneaked outside the bathroom. You were left dumbfounded and smitten in front of the stalls, giggling to yourself at what just had happened.

Aaron waited patiently, making sure no one would come around and try to get into the bathroom in spite of the ‘out of order’ sign that still hung from the door. After a few minutes, you came out of the room and he offered a gentle smile to welcome you back.

“Well, seems like I paid off my debt” you said jokingly. His arm folded and was offered in your direction, which you took gladly, for him to escort you back to the main hall.

“In that case, next time I can teach you some racquetball.”

[topguncortez]

Bad Medicine | Chapter 14

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: The wedding between the Seresin mafia and the Santiago mafia has finally arrived. But what's a wedding without a little drama?

word count: 6.2k

warnings: PTSD, trauma, mentions of scars, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, torture, graphic character death, shootings, guns, blood, revenge plot, illusion of suicide, death.

“Rise and shine, cupcake!” 

The dark room was infiltrated with light as the middle Santiago brother ripped the curtains open. Y/N let out a groan as the morning sun hit her directly in the face. Narciso didn’t seem to pay any mind to his sister as he opened the large bay window, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. Y/N turned her face away from the window, finding the spot next to her empty. She frowned and pushed herself up on her elbow finding a note addressed to her and a singular red rose on the bedside. 

“Y/N!” Narciso clapped his hands, getting his sister’s attention. 

“Sorry,” She said and looked over at him, “Actually, I’m not. What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m your maid of honor, for lack of a better word.” He smiled brightly. 

“Who said that?” 

“Me,” Narciso said, and walked over to her, and flung the rest of the blankets off of her, “I know you would much rather it be Mom and Sophie helping you, but I guess I’m third best. Besides, have you seen the way the other two dress. . . they need more help than us today, sis.” 

“Thank you,” Y/N smiled and hugged her older brother. 

“Any time,” Narcisosaid, wrapping an arm around her and squeezing gently, “Please have this be the last wedding though. I’m not sure if Dad’s pockets can afford another one.” 

“I thought it was known that we marry for money in this family?” Y/N joked. 

Narciso rolled his eyes, and helped her up from her bed. He led her down the hall towards Bob’s room, which was now turned into a makeshift glam room. Narciso had various stylists walking around the room setting up their makeup and hair stations. Y/N beamed brightly at her brother, as a woman came up and grabbed her hand, softly pulling her over to get working on her hair. Narciso smiled to himself and leaned against the door, watching his sister smile. It had been a long time since he had seen a genuine smile on her face. 

 — — — ♱♱♱ — — — ♱♱♱ — — — 

Jake stood in the middle of the backyard as wedding planners were finishing their final touches on the altar and the rows of white chairs. At first, Jake thought that 200 chairs that were in a curved half circle was a bit extreme, but then he saw the final guest list, and suddenly worried if they had enough chairs. Everyone was coming to see the wedding of one of the most notorious mobsters in California. It was hard to believe that Jake Seresin, the ‘Hangman’, was getting married to the Don of Italy’s daughter. 

And not just any Don of Italy’s daughter, Rafael Santiago’s daughter. The wild card. The damaged rose. Everyone thought after what had happened with Francisco, that the Don would’ve hid his daughter away. ‘Sent her to Rome to be a nun’ was the rumor that had floated around for several months until someone spotted her in that strip club back in New York. But now the rumor was that the Santiago girl had settled down, and was ready to be a wife. 

“Care to tell me why I just found a book full of naughty pictures of my sister?” Gianni asked, shoving something against Jake’s chest. The blonde grunted and looked down at the scrapbook in his hands, “She told me to give this to you, didn’t say what it was, and now, I feel like I need to go stab my own eyes out.” 

Jake chuckled and tucked the book under his arm, “Don’t you know not to open things that don’t belong to you?” 

“Shut up, Seresin,” Gianni shoved him as he walked into the house, still grumbling about the photo album in Jake’s hands. 

Jake looked around the backyard, taking in the smiles on everyone’s faces. There was a buzz in the air, the scent of excitement. The wedding wasn’t supposed to start for another four hours, but Jake felt ready to jump out of his skin. He had been woken up early this morning by Emile, and ushered down to his room at the opposite end of the house. Jake looked over his shoulder at the balcony, white curtains covered the french doors so he couldn’t see his bride inside. 

Despite everyone's smiles, there was only one person who didn’t seem to have a joyous expression on their face. Jake had noticed that Bradley had an uneasy look on his face and had avoided looking him in the eye all morning. The mustached man was now wandering around from place to place, trying to find something to keep him busy. Bradley hated not having something to do, he was never the type to just and wait.  

“Emile,” Jake called over to his maid, “Can you take this to my room? And tell the future missus thank you for the gift.” Emile nodded and took the book from him. Jake stuffed his hands into his pocket and walked over to Bradley, who was fiddling with a white bow on the back of one of the chairs, “Do you even know what you are doing?” 

Bradley didn’t look up, but stopped his messing with the bow, “I think-” 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

“I have not-” 

“Bradley,” Jake said sincerely. 

Bradley sighed and looked up at the man he considered to be a brother, “I’m sorry.” 

“Why?” Jake asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Bradley stood up from his crouching position and scratched the back of his neck. It is hard to describe Bradley as being small, but as he stood in front of Jake, avoiding his green eyes, Bradley did in fact look “small”.  Jake could see a little boy who looked like he had just gotten caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. 

“I. . . I thought maybe if I stay away from this one, I won’t mess it up.” Bradley mumbled, “I seem to be the angel of death,” Jake sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry for what I-” 

“What happened with Natasha was not your fault,” Jake said, “You can’t help who you love.” Bradley looked up at his friend, “One of the things I will regret until my dying breath, was letting you believe that you are a monster, a killer.” 

It had been one of the darkest times in Bradley’s life after betraying not only Jake, but the family that gave him so much when he had lost his own. Bradley hated that he had been so naive and had fallen in line right where Natasha wanted him. He knew that Jake could’ve killed him right then and there, laying his body out in cold blood like Natasha’s. However, Jake decided to show Bradley mercy. And every day Bradley felt like he had to figure out how to repay him somehow. 

“I was already a monster,” Bradley looked at his hands. His hands were rough and calloused from years of working with his hands, “I don’t think I’ll ever get my happily ever after. No one can love the fucked up monster. I had that and-and I lost it.”  

“Someone out there will,” Jake answered. He put his hand under Bradley’s chin and lifted it up, “I never blamed you for what happened. I just want you to forgive me, Bradley.” 

“I forgave you years ago,” Bradley admitted, “I’m glad you found Y/N. . . or she found us, I guess. It’s been nice to have someone to take care of us. She. . . she reminds me of my mom, in a way.” 

Jake smiled and hugged Bradley. Bradley sighed and melted into the hug, not realizing how much he needed the physical reassurance from the mafia leader. He had spent years watching his every move, careful of what Jake was doing. He always felt like there was a target on his back for a mistake he had made when he was young and stupid. But to have Jake tell him that he forgave him, felt like cinder blocks lifted off his shoulders. 

Rooster pulled back from the hug, “I gotta get going. I want to stop by the hospital before this thing kicks off.”

“Hospital?” Jake asked. 

“Yeah. . . check on Sophie,” A blush filled Bradley’s cheeks and Jake gave a singular nod. 

“Check on her, huh?” A small smirk graced Jake’s lips and Bradley playfully shoved the man, “Alright, alright, give an update to Y/N please. I know she’s worried about Sophie.” 

“I will,” Rooster nodded, and turned to walk in the house. 

“Oh! And send my brother to me.” Rooster gave Jake a thumbs up before disappearing into the labyrinth that is the Seresin Mansion. 

Jake took one last glance around the backyard before looking up at the balcony. He smiled seeing his wife standing in the doorway, looking out at the rose garden. She was wearing a white silk robe and her hair had been pinned back into an updo. She held a glass of champagne in her hands, her face was still makeup free. Jake loved when her face was bare, not hiding her scars from him. He looked at her face, memorizing every single line that adorned it. 

Feeling his stare, Y/N looked from the sparkling white roses to her fiance. She gave him a soft smile and a small wave. He mouthed to her ‘I Love You’, and held his hand on his heart. Y/N nodded and whispered back the same three words. She then sent him a wink, as she turned around, untying her robe, and letting it cascade to the ground. Jake bit back a smirk, as he watched her naked body disappear into their room and the doors to the balcony shut. 

“Some things will never change,” He mumbled to himself, fixing his dress pants. Jake looked over the backyard, looking at the altar, that in just a few moments he’d be standing under, holding hands with his wife. Jake smiled to himself, as he shook his head and looked down at his shoes. He couldn’t wait until he heard the words, ‘You may now kiss your wife’. 

 — — — ♱♱♱ — — — ♱♱♱ — — — 

Y/N’s hands were shaking as she sat at her vanity, looking at herself in the mirror. She had been here before. It was giving her deja vu, sitting looking at herself in nothing but a strapless white lace bra, matching panties, her hair done and pinned back, and makeup done to the nines. Her scars had been covered, as if the past trauma had never happened to her. She could almost believe that her face was without any scarring, but she could still see some remnants of the angry skin left behind. 

A knock at the door and a voice called out to her, snapping her from her warring thoughts, “Can I come in?” 

“Yeah, Gio,” Y/N said, clearing her throat and reaching for her robe. She slipped it on her shoulders as Gianni walked through the door, a smile on his face. 

“How are you doing?” He asked, sitting down on the edge of her bed. 

“Want me to be honest?” She asked and he nodded, “I’m terrified,” Y/N looked up at her brother, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, “I just. . . I keep pinching myself, seeing if this is real. If I really am about to marry a man that I love, or if this is some sick joke.” 

Gianni stood up from the bed and walked to her. He gently lifted her chin with his finger, “This is real. Nothing, and I mean, nothing, is going to hurt you.” Y/N nodded and Gianni’s face softened, “I will never forgive myself for not killing Francisco when I had a chance. I never-” 

“It was on me,” Y/N said and dabbed under her eye, “I begged you to show him mercy. I thought that he would get the hint after what you did to him, but he’s a sick man.” 

“And he’s a dead man, when we find him,” Gianni pulled her into a tight hug, “He will never, ever, hurt you again. You have my word.” 

“Thank you, Gianni,” Y/N said, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Another knock on the door separated the siblings. Y/N froze for a moment, hoping it wasn’t her soon to be husband trying to steal another look, “Who is it?” 

“Bob,” A smile graced her face and Gianni nodded, turning and heading out the door. He patted Bob on the back, going down the hall to try and find Jake, and hopefully smoke a cigar with him before the wedding kicked off. 

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest and nodded for Bob to come into her room. The blue eyed man quietly shut her bedroom door and walked right to her, not hesitating to give her a tight hug. Y/N let out a small sound, as he squeezed her. Out of all of the boys, Bob had been the only one who hadn’t touched her yet. She let out a sigh and settled into the hug, running her hand up and down his back. 

“Thank you,” Bob mumbled. 

“For what?” Y/N asked. 

Bob pulled away, and she noticed he wasn’t wearing his glasses. She gently touched his cheek, running her thumb over the apple of his skin. He looked strikingly handsome with his ocean blue eyes. Y/N swore that she could even see what looked like waves in his eyes. The more that she looked at him, the more that she could see the similarities between him and Jake. They had the same blonde hair, and striking colored eyes. They also had the same half smile whenever they were trying to hide their blush. 

“For giving me my brother back,” Bob said, “We used to be really close, when we were younger but. . . we grew apart after everything happened. And I am sorry he was so horrible to you when you first got here. I make no excuses for him, and I know he will spend the rest of his life apologizing to you for what he did. . . but he’s just been through so much. The both of you had. I think that’s what makes you two so perfect for each other.” 

Y/N grabbed his hand, and squeezed it, “Thank you, Bob,” her voice cracked as she felt hot tears well up in her eyes. 

“No! Don’t cry, Narciso will kill me,” Bob said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out kleenex, “I’m sorry for making you cry.” 

“You didn’t,” Y/N said, “I always wanted to feel love like this. To be in a family who truly loves each other. You all might not have the perfect relationship, there might be buried skeletons and ghosts, but at the end of the day, you all love each other. And now, I finally get to experience that too.” 

“You’ve always had that, Y/N. Might not have been displayed for the whole world to see, but it’s always been there,” Bob assured her. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Floyd,” Emile said, knocking on the door, holding the white dress in her hand, “We need to get her dressed.” Bob smiled brightly, looking at Y/N. He kissed her cheek, whispering ‘good luck’ before walking out the door. 

— — — ♱♱♱ — — — ♱♱♱ — — — 

Jake was finishing up the final touches on his tux, when he heard a soft knock on the door, followed by his younger brother stepping into the room. He smiled at his brother and took a step back from the mirror and embraced him in a hug. 

“She looks beautiful,” Bob said. 

Jake pulled away from the hug. His smile was so bright he bet that he could power a whole dark city, “You saw her?” 

Bob nodded, and put his hands into his pockets, “Yeah, stopped by her room on the way here. What did you want to see me for?” 

Jake sucked in a breath and fiddled with his hands, “I want to apologize to you, for what I did, taking you away from MIT and forcing you into this family.” 

“Oh, I forgave you for that a long while ago. I knew it was inevitable,” Bob shrugged. 

“I still had no right to do that to you,” Jake said, “You were the one that had a chance at living a normal life, and I ruined that for you.”

Bob smiled shyly, looking down at his black dress shoes. Bob had constant dreams about living that kind of life, except they all ended the same way, with Jake showing up and tearing him away. Jake read his face and put the final touches on his tie, before stepping behind him, so Bob was standing directly in front of the full-length mirror. Jake’s hands went to his shirt and smoothed out the wrinkles and adjusted the tie. 

“You know, out of the four of us, I always thought it was gonna be your wedding we go to first. You were the one who was gonna live that white picket fence life. Kids running around the front yard, and an apple pie on the kitchen table. Dad kinda set you up for all that,” Jake smiled. 

“You know I won’t ever have that. . .” Bob sighed. Jake watched as his brother’s face fell, knowing exactly what he was talking about. It took Jake, his parents, and even Rooster to get Bob to stop searching for his lover. Bob had taken an unhealthy obsession with trying to find a ghost. He took a step away from Jake and walked towards the door, “She’s just gone, Jake, like she never even existed.” 

“If there is anyone on this earth who can find her, it’s you, Bob,” Jake said truthfully. 

“I’ve never stopped looking for her. But she’s just. . . gone, like a ghost.” 

Jake chuckled and shoved his hands into his pockets, “No one just disappears Bobby, have you ever thought that you're over focussing, broaden your mind, you'll find her. Or maybe she'll find you.” 

Bob nodded to himself and walked out of the bedroom door, leaving Jake alone with his thoughts. Jake sighed and sat down on his bed, looking around the room. It was pretty much bare now, all his belongings having been moved into the master bedroom with Y/N. He leaned over towards his bedside table, seeing an envelope addressed to him. He smiled as he picked it up and opened it.  

“To my true soul,” 

 — — — ♱♱♱ — — — ♱♱♱ — — — 

Her breath was in her throat. Everyone was waiting for her, the isles were lined with flowers, the bows on the backs of the chairs had been tied to perfection. The boys had already taken their spots at the altar, each of them wearing black tuxes with white button ups. Jake was the only one wearing an all black suit, as he bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to settle the nerves in his body. Javy couldn’t help but grab his friend's shoulders, shaking them, as a goofy smile spread on his face. 

Y/N looked at herself in the mirror one last time, fixing up some flyaways in her hair. Her dress fit her perfectly, the lace laying on her smooth skin. Her hands were shaky as Emile handed her her flower bouquet. Emile quickly moved around her, fixing some things with her dress and veil. Y/N glanced at the doors in front of her, which were shut and a curtain drawn over them so no one could see her on the other side. Her heart pounded, knowing that right on the other side was her soon to be husband. 

“You look perfect,” She said, fixing the veil on her shoulders, “He’s a lucky man.” 

“I think I am the lucky one,” Y/N answered, as she took in a deep breath. 

Emile smiled, “I always knew that you two would fall in love. Mr. Jacob is rough around the edges when you first meet, but he melts your heart. He melted mine, that’s for sure. Been taking care of all four of them since they were in trainers.” 

“Thank you, Emile,” Y/N said genuinely. Emile nodded and kissed her forehead, as the door opened and her father walked in. Emile excused herself as the Don stepped over to his daughter, “Papa,” 

“Y/N,” The Don responded. He held his hand out to her and she gently placed her hand in his. His hands were rough from years of working with his hands, but they were always warm and gave Y/N a sense of security, just like when she held his hand as a child, “You look perfect. A spitting image of your mother.” 

“I wish she could be here,” Y/N spoke, tears filling her eyes. 

“Oh, tesoro,” Rafael said, wiping her tears softly, “Don’t cry. She’s here, in your heart. She always has been.” Y/N nodded, and gripped her father’s arm tightly, “You ready?” 

“Yeah,” She smiled, “Just don’t. . . don’t let me fall.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” The Don spoke. He nodded to the guards in front of him to open the doors that led to the garden. 

Everyone’s eyes turned and looked at her. Everyone stood up as the pianist started playing the notes to ‘Turning Page’, the song Bob had picked out for them. Her steps faltered for a second, taking in the sight of all the eyes on her, and she squeezed Rafael’s arm. He patted her hand gently, reassuring her that he wasn’t going to fail her, not this time. She looked up at her dad, and Rafael felt a moment of deja vu. She was suddenly the five year old girl going to her first day of school, scared to go run with the other children, and searching for the okay to go. 

“I’ve got you,” Rafael whispered to her, and Y/N nodded, the anxiety melting away. Y/N took a deep breath and looked back down the aisle at her Jake, who’s eyes were blurry with tears.

Jake’s eyes found hers in an instant, looking at her. No one else mattered but her, she was the only person Jake could see. Jake couldn’t help the tears that formed in his eyes as Y/N walked down the aisle towards him. Any anxiety he had about this moment melted away when she smiled at him. Javy gently nudged Jake and smiled at him. Bob had only seen this look in Jake’s eyes once before, and he was worried he’d never see that again. Bob was thanking the stars above that Jake had found his forever. The aisle seemed endlessly long as Y/N had finally made her way to Jake. Jake took a step down off the altar to take her from her father. 

“Jacob,” Rafael whispered, “Take good care of my daughter.” 

“I will protect her with my life,” Jake whispered back. The Don smiled and placed a kiss on Jake’s cheek. He turned to his daughter and placed a kiss on her cheek, before going to join his boys in the front row. Jake moved the veil from Y/N’s face and smiled at her. 

“Hi,” She said softly. 

“Hey,” He whispered back. He took her hand, and gently led her up the steps to stand in front of the priest. She passed her bouquet back to Narciso, and then grabbed both of Jake’s hands. He squeezed them gently, before turning his head towards the Priest. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, you may be seated,” The Priest said, “We are gathered here today to witness the holy union between Y/N Santiago and Jacob Seresin. The love that has been granted upon them is obvious, as it surrounds not only them but all of us as well. If there is anyone who objects to these two being joined in the face of the Lord and become one within one another, please speak now, or forever hold your peace.” 

Jake looked at Y/N and smiled, as they heard silence from the crowd. He grabbed her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of her hand. He opened his mouth to whisper something to her, when someone from the back of the crowd stood up and yelled: 

“I object!” 

Jake’s head snapped towards the sound, his jaw dropping slightly, “Natasha?”

Y/N’s heart was beating erratically as she looked at the woman that had haunted her husband’s dreams. Y/N went to take a step forward when a loud gun shot rang out. Jake quickly grabbed her hand to pull her back to him as screams filled the crowd, but Y/N was frozen in place as she looked down at the growing red spot seeping through her white dress. 

“Y/N. . .” Jake whimpered out, as he helped her down to the ground before she could collapse. 

The single shot was followed by rapid gunfire, as screams and cries filled the air, people immediately running for the quickest cover they could find. Jake looked up to where Natasha was standing, watching her make her way towards him. He felt sick as he looked down at his wife, his hands going to her midsection, standing them with crimson. When he looked back up, Natasha was gone. 

Rafael tried to push through the guards, but they pushed the mafia leader away, trying to get him to safety. He tried his best to fight against them, but he was no match against Paulo and Narciso’s strength as they pushed him towards the house. Rooster and Gianni grabbed the guns from their waist bands and took off, looking for the source of the gunfire. 

“Jake,” Her small voice drew Jake’s attention back to her. He sucked in a breath as the color was gone from her face. Jake looked back up briefly, seeing Natasha standing in front of him, a sick smirk on her face. He blinked a couple times, and again, she was gone. The sound of coughing made Jake look back down at his bride, watching as pink froth left her lips. He adjusted her in his arms, helping her sit up a bit. He knew that gunshot wounds to the stomach were an awful way to die. Slowly, your body positioned itself as the toxins from your intestines leaked into your blood. 

What the fuck, Jacob, he thought, shaking his head again, “Help me!” Jake yelled out to anyone who was near. 

“J-Jake,” Y/N stuttered out, her hands going on top of his as a way to add more pressure to the growing wound. Her body felt searing hot, as she tried to push herself up. Her mind was clouded over with the pain, that nothing made sense. Who could have done this? Why would someone want to hurt us like this?

“I don’t want to die, Jake.” 

Bob and Javy ran in towards the house, both their guns drawn as they frantically looked around. Bob spotted him first, pointing out the man dressed in all black, running towards the front gate. Both the men went running after him, firing their weapons, trying to hit him. Bob was fast, his long legs carrying him towards the perpetrator quickly. He tackled them to the ground, both of them falling with a grunt. Bob took the blunt end of his gun and struck him in the face, making the man grunt. 

“Cease fire!” Bob yelled, “I got him! I got him!” 

The gunfire ceased as Rooster and Gianni both ran in the house towards Bob, to help him gather whoever was the cause of this. Rooster helped Bob stand the perpetrator to his feet, taking his belt and using it as makeshift handcuffs until they could get him into the chamber. Gianni saw nothing but red, as soon as he laid eyes on the perpetrator’s face. Gianni took his fist and struck him in the jaw, making the perp sag a bit in Rooster and Bob’s hold. 

“Fuck!” He grunted, “Nice to see you too, Gianni.” 

“You’re going to fucking burn, Francisco,” 

“Promise?” Francisco smirked. 

“Get him to the fucking chamber,” Javy demanded.

The backyard was silent as the smoke and dust cleared, leaving behind debris in its wake of tipped over chairs, articles of clothing, broken flower vases and bullet shells. Jake slowly rocked Y/N back and forth, holding her close. His hands did the best they could to stop the blood from escaping from her body. Usually the sight of blood didn’t bother him, but there was something about seeing the dark red stain, the perfect white of her dress, that made him sick. 

“J-Jake. . .” Y/N called out to him. Jake laced their fingers together, the blood making their fingers stick together, “I-I don’t want-“

“Shh baby, shh,” Jake cried, wiping the tears from her face, “Help me! Somebody! Help!” She groaned in pain as Jake jolted her slightly. Jake quit moving and kissed her forehead, “It’ll be okay. I promise.” Y/N nodded weakly as Jake held her, “Help!” 

“I-it h-hurts.”

Jake looked down at her, taking in the sight of her. He knew there was nothing anyone could do, and he knew that she knew it too. He held her close and rocked her gently. Her usual tan skin was now pale. The midsection of her dress was almost completely red. Jake hated it. 

“I’m right here, okay. I’m not gonna go anywhere.” 

Her mind was in a limbo of wanting to accept death, accept what was going to happen to her or to fight against it to live. This couldn’t be her ending. Not now, not that she had made amends with those who hurt her. Not when she just found her true love, her true happiness. She had faced death before, and welcomed it before. But now, seeping into that black abyss was terrifying. Going into an undiscovered place, alone, was worse than bleeding out in her lover’s arms. 

“I’m scared, Jake. . . I don’t want to die yet,” She sobbed out, her eyes locked on the sky above her. Jake had made a promise to her to never let her be scared again, not while his heart was still beating in his chest. 

“Don’t be, it’ll be okay, baby, it’ll all be okay,” Jake said softly, “You go, okay. Don’t be scared,  I’ll be right there.” 

Y/N nodded, her body growing weaker and weaker. It was like the pull of a tide, pulling her further and further into a deep abyss. Jake watched her features, watched as her chest rose and fell, and froze. Her eyes, the usual honey brown, grew cold and her face froze in a forever look of fear. Jake looked up at the sky, letting his tears fall, and soft sobs left his pink lips. He looked down at the girl in his arms, and brought a shaky hand to her face to close her eyes. 

“I love you. . . I love you,” Jake said and kissed her cheek. He looked around the whole backyard before bringing her body into his and letting out a loud scream of agony. Javy, Bob and Rooster watched from inside the house as Jake let out his emotions. Bob couldn’t help but shed tears at the anguishing sounds leaving Jake’s lips. They had never seen him like this, not even after Natasha. 

Paulo and Narciso had to physically hold their father up from crashing to the ground. Rafael let out a loud sob, as he watched his only daughter’s life leave her body. Gianni clenched his jaw, looking from the scene, down to his shoes. Gianni was known as The Santiago with no emotion, but he couldn’t help the tears that fell from his eyes. He had devoted much of his adult life to protecting his baby sister, and now he watched as he had failed her yet again. He wiped his tears quickly and turned on his heel walking towards the chamber that had taken Francisco. 

“Stop him,” Rafael said, fearing for what his son was going to do. 

Paulo shook his head, “He’ll be fine. He needs this.” 

Jake gently laid Y/N’s body on the ground and placed her hands on her belly, trying to cover the bullet wound the best he could. He grabbed the discarded bouquet from earlier, placed it in her hands and kissed her before standing up and marching into the house. The three other boys moved out of his way as he walked straight into the chamber. The other boys shared a look before following Jake down to the chamber. 

Gianni was already beating up Francisco when Jake got down there, the man was chained up by his wrists, as Gianni delivered blow after blow to his face. Francisco looked up at Gianni, as he held him by the back of his head, his brass knuckles shining with blood already. 

“I didn’t know you were capable of emotions,” Francisco smiled, as Gianni reeled his fist back and delivered another punch. 

“Enough,” Jake said as he walked in. Gianni nodded, dropping Francisco’s head and stepping away from the battered man. 

“Got what you wanted? A good wedding?” Francisco asked with a smirk. Jake didn’t say anything as he growled, walked over to Francisco, grabbing him by the throat. Jake could feel the crush of his hyoid bone under his hand. Francisco’s neck and face turned red as his air supply was slowly being cut off. 

“You’re fucking sick. Thinking you can get away with shit you’ve done. Killing my wife.” Jake said through a clenched jaw. 

“If I'm sick, what does that make you? You’re not some fucking saint. You hurt her too. Difference is I taught her a lesson. I’m a sinner with a reason.” 

Jake pressed down harder on his neck again, “We’re both going to hell. But I’m going to fucking kill you, and it’s going to be so fucking euphoric to watch you die slowly.” 

“Give it to me. Kill me! SHOW ME WHO THE FUCK HANGMAN REALLY IS!!” Francisco yelled. 

Jake stepped back, and raised his gun and pointed it in between Francisco’s eyes. He cocked it, and then closed his eyes. Images of the early morning he had shared with Y/N filled his mind. Jake closed his eyes, soaking in the vision of her. Her smile as he got down on one knee and finally proposed to her. Her soft voice as she sang to him. And her heartbeat, pumping in her chest, letting the blood flow throughout her body. Now she laid on the concrete, her blood shed and her body cold. 

Jake opened his eyes, letting the tears run down his face. He lowered his gun and handed it to Bob, who stood behind him. Bob looked at him confused as Jake took a step towards Francisco. 

“The reaper had mercy,” Jake whispered, placing a kiss on Francisco’s cheek. 

The men all looked at Jake, unsure of what the mafia leader was doing. Not once had they ever seen Jake back down from killing someone, especially someone who had hurt him like this. Jake walked over to his brothers, and hugged them each starting with Bob. 

“You’ll find her, I know you will,” Jake said to him. He then hugged Javy, “Take care of them when they hear, you’ve always liked you more than me.” He spoke in his best friend's ear. 

When Jake got to Rooster, he held him tightly in his arms. Jake whispered in his ear, and Rooster’s eyes widened. He went to pull back from the hug, but Jake placed his hand on his head, keeping him still until he was done talking. Rooster bit his lip, trying to suppress the sob building in his throat. Jake placed a kiss on his cheek as he pulled away from the hug. 

Jake didn’t say anything else to them but just nodded, before ascending up the stairs. 

“What a fucking puss-” 

The shot that rang out caused Francisco’s head to knock back and then forward, showering brain matter and blood along the walls. Rooster lowered his gun and handed it to Javy, feeling disgusted by what he just did. Rooster instructed the guards to clean the mess up and place Francisco in a shallow grave. 

“Wait,” Gianni said, holding his hand up. He drew the knife from his pocket and walked over to Francisco’s dead body. He leaned his head back, and flicked open the pocket knife. Gianni clenched his jaw as he carved a jagged scar down the dead man’s face, “I hope you rot in hell,” Gianni released Francisco’s head, watching the blood drip from the cut. He took a step back and spit on his corpse. They watched as Gianni walked up the stairs, exiting the chamber to go be with his family. 

The three Seresin family members stood in silence, listening to the blood drop from the dead body. Javy looked around at Bob, who’s eyes were trained on the stairs Jake had just walked up. 

“What do we do now?” Javy asked. Bob opened his mouth to speak when another gunshot went off. He jumped and let out a soft gasp, as he licked his lips and bowed his head. The realization washed over him that he was now head of the family. 

“We drink.” 

Fin.

taglist: @cherrycola27 @seresinsbabe @violyn20 @materialgirl01 @bradleybeachbabe @a-reader-and-a-writer @lt-spork @topnerd03 @3in1shampooconditionerbodywash @bioodforbiood @topguncultleader @ma-fraise @abaker74 @double-j @cm27078 @thedroneranger @khaylin27 @mak-32 @unhinged-btch @wittywhispers @theliterarybeldam @bloosomjoon @chxcxlate-cxxkies @luckyladycreator2 @wellshit6 @harper1666 @phoenix1388 @footprintsinthesxnd @dempy @emma8895eb @bonitanightmxres @love2write2626 @bobbyonboard @some-lovely-day @thenewdaysalreadyhere @cassiemitchellslibrary @ilymoonie @morgensternsblog @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rintheemolion @tallrock35 @adoringsebstan @xoxabs88xox

note: does it make you feel better if I say that there will be an epilogue AND a sequel??? no??? okay. . .

[poisonedspider]

Alright, alright, a bunch of you told me to just go at it soooo. I'm putting it under a read more. Also very large trigger warning, this entire starter relates to suicide, mental health (specifically PTSD), trauma, etc. This is an open starter, so please reply if you want to and feel comfortable handling really intense mental health struggles.

There was honestly no point anymore. That was it, mic drop, curtain closed. I'm sick of the poison, wish I had something to live for tomorrow. The thing was, he wasn't even certain if he did. He had been in Hell a long time, pushing triple the amount of years that he was alive. It hadn't seemed so bad....at first. Hell, in some odd sort of way, was more comforting than his living years. At least down here he got to be himself, no judgment, because everyone else was on #teamdebauchery as well.

The lifestyle had been beyond fun at first. It had even been fun when he had met Valentino. Valentino, who had appeared like some fucking Greek God (or, Latino God, should he say?) and swept him off his feet. Found value in him, didn't mind his bad habits, told him he was beautiful and wanted. If he had known then what he had known now - well, he didn't know if he would have left with Val after his shift at Club 666.

It had still been a decade or so before the contract was signed. And then everything started to get messy. The drugs were never enough to numb it, the hundreds of men could never fill the aching pain in his heart. Between all three Vees, Angel had had to leave. Val, for the most obvious reasons. But he knew when he didn't belong somewhere, when he wasn't wanted. That had been his whole experience being Henroin's son. And he could only stand so many thrown slurs and insults before he would lose it.

He had when he was alive, after all. He had found solace in death.

And maybe, just maybe, that had been what had landed him here. Sitting on top of the roof on the edge of Pentagram City, between the Magne District and Cannibal Town. It was far enough away from the Entertainment District owned by the Vees, or the Mafia and Weapon district where he might run into family. Far enough away from the hotel.

The hotel. His friends. His chosen family. He loved them, but he couldn't say he knew if they felt the same. All they knew of him was the fake persona he put on, the show he performed every day. A bullshit lie, starring the one and only Angel Dust! Cue the fake applause track. He had done it to himself, of course. He would rather be rejected for an image of who he was, then be rejected for his true self. He'd already had that happen too many times. By his dad and brother. By Valentino.

Charlie, she cared, but she cared about everyone. But ever since Pentious had moved into the hotel, she had seemed to put less attention in her first and only patron. He didn't blame the serpent, but it had driven him into a further spiral. Valentino was right - addict trash like him never changed. No matter how much he tried, and put in genuine effort, it wasn't going to matter. At the end of the day, he still sucked dick for a living. He still hid cocaine under his mattress.

And of course there was Husk. Husk, who Angel had started to fall for, even though it terrified him. Love was terrifying. But Husk had always pushed away his advances. Seemed annoyed by him. Uninterested. Maybe their little 'moment' had changed things, but it hadn't seemed like it did. While Husk smiled at him more and seemed more proud of him, Husk still had said he was tired of Angel being fake. And the sad thing? Husk had probably been who he was most real towards. Flirting or otherwise, it was because he had....wanted to try. With him.

This all led to here. He of course had tied all possible loose ends, or so he thought. He had cleaned out his room, the neon lights and pictures and fluffy purple pillows shoved into boxes, looking like he had just decided to move out without a word. Given up. Maybe he had. Fat Nuggets had been the hardest. It hurt his heart to leave his hellpig behind, but Nuggets deserved a better mom than him anyways. He had left a note for Charlie, not about his plans, but secured under Nuggets' collar. Please take care of him. xoxo Angie

Short, simple. He knew she would, too. Just like she did for Keke, for Razzle and Dazzle. Getting the angelic weapon had been the easiest part. Valentino's cabinet was stuffed with them. While Angel didn't have the money to get one on his own, it was incredibly easy to take one from Val. One would think it wouldn't be, but despite their rocky relationship, Valentino trusted Angel. He knew Angel still loved him, and would never do anything to hurt him. Not to mention that by contract, he couldn't.

Valentino would notice one of his guns missing eventually, but it would be too late by then. He had thought nothing could possibly be worse than being alive. Now he felt like nothing could possibly be worse than being dead. And double dead? That was the only unknown. Though surely, nothing could possibly be bad when ceasing to exist. He would never know it. He'd be gone. Nothing. Just like he felt in that moment.

He flipped off the safety, taking a deep breath. He knew how to do this - guns were his specialty, he'd killed so many people before. But fuck if this wasn't scary. When he had died, it hadn't been intentional. Maybe it had been unconsciously - he had wanted to die, and he had taken just too many drugs, more than he knew he could handle. He had slipped into the coma, and he had never woken back up. This was different. This he had to actively pull the trigger. Angel didn't consider himself weak, but he hated how his hands were shaking in that moment.

Hammer pulled back, gun cocked, he looked over Pentagram City one last time. In an eerie way, it was beautiful. He didn't belong amongst any of the good here. An angel he was not, despite his namesake. No, he was just Anthony. Scared. Alone. Nothing. Worthless. He had to shake his head to snap out of it, knowing the best aim - gun positioned right underneath his chin, angled so that he wouldn't fuck it up and end up suffering until he died of blood loss. Finger on the trigger. It would be okay....it would be okay....it would all be over in just three....two....

[mari-lair]

What’s your opinion on the newest chapter bc that ending caught me tf off guard (if ykyk)

I love this chapter it’s so cool! I like that Mitsuba is helping Kou, and that Hanako the leader of the ghosts, was scared of the middle schooler’s haunted house. I also appreciate that everyone was together instead of the usual mitsukou/hananene split up. (They did split up by the end of the chapter again...but I’ll take what I can get.)

This part was nice too.

I wasn’t expecting it, but it makes sense Mitsuba wants to push Kou to be with Nene considering this is his mentality recently.

MY AWFUL TRIO IS HERE TOO!

Aoi has a herbs tea stand! LOOK AT HER! I forgot there are more people in the gardening club besides her uiyguyg

AND AKANE USED A HEART IN HIS SPEECH BUBBLE?? This boy really is down bad, he gets rejected when he already knows Aoi likes him back but he keep looking at the bright side (he is so genuinely happy thinking about how cute she is when she’s shy. He is adorable.)

He cried a river when he was rejected what a loser, and Aoi is so blushy when she turns him down, she looks almost troubled?? Is she angry she can’t bring herself to agree? Is she troubled she already agreed to go with Teru? Idk but she is adorable. They are so stupid, they make my heart melt.

SPEAKING OF TERU, I love how he happily (threatened) invited Aoi on a date while confident Akane will be there. My bars are very low I am absolutely counting this as a terukaneaoi date LET’S GOO

Love how Aoi is scared and nervous but the idea Akane will be there too calm her down. She had fun the last time they hung out as a trio so I am excited!

(I won’t be surprised if the broadcasting club scheming makes it so they end up not having this tour, but my disappointment will be immeasurable.)

Teru was amazing this chapter on his own too, look at this bastard. He got an ego.

Not that I can blame him, any 17 year old would reach this conclusion when their class consistently worship him as a prince and made A WHOLE SUCCESSFUL VENUE?? WITH MERCHANDISE TOO?? HELP?? He is so chill about it “oh I was surprised when they suggested” BUT NO PROTESTS? Akane is right, he is a shameless guy.

(I wonder if Teru gets money out of it...? Since they are selling his image/’brand’. I hope he does. Can you imagine Teru  telling his dad “oh yeah, half of my fortune comes from exorcism, half comes from my venue.” )

And hey, Tiara and kunishide are here!  That’s nice, love to see them again! :D

You know who else is here? Sousuke’s mom! THE QUEEN IS HERE! LET HER THROUGH!!! I DID NOT EXPECT TO EVER SEE HER AGAIN, MY BELOVED!

I’m interested in how Mitsuba will deal with a ‘mom’ he never had. He no longer seems obsessed with Sousuke, the manga itself treats Sousuke as a thing of the past (Kou even fully accepted his death in chapter 74) so her presence is BIG.

I wonder if the mom will be able to see Mitsuba, and bring more info on Sousuke, or explore both her and Mitsuba’s characters. Mitsuba does feel like he has no ‘family’ after all. And Sousuke’s mom, who lost her son and husband, also has no family, but unlike Mitsuba, she used to have. Add in Mitsuba’s relationship with his own identity and I am definitively intrigued by what her role in this arc will be.

The ending caught me off guard too, I thought the broadcasting club wanted to control time not destroy it, even if it does make sense, considering their end goal is every yorishiro's destruction.

And this part made me realize we never saw Natsuhiko bleed before, and it explains how he consistently gets out of dangerous or tricky situations that while not deadly for an immortal would have been very hard to escape if his power was merely 'durability'.

He can’t lose, even a supernatural’s ‘victory’ where he gets eaten will result in them being corroded from the inside out. Since Natsuhiko can’t die, blood loss isn’t a problem either, he is a neverending poison machine. Love that for him.

[geralts-yenn]

Believe in Me - Chapter 8

chapter warnings: 18+, adult content, minors DNI! violence, torture, talk of murder, vampire bite, minor character death

word count: 3,8k

A/N: Sorry guys. I know some of you might be mad at me while reading this. But it's not my fault. I suffered myself while writing, and I'm here for you when you want to scream at me after reading. But I can't change the story because that's just how it needs to be told.

Inspo board for this chapter is here

Series Masterlist

Charles switched off the monitor and turned to Aurora, who was now standing in the middle of the room, shaking.

“She’s a member of the Warriors of Light, did you know that? And Melot suspected your father to be a member, too.” he told her.

Aurora’s eyes widened even more. “What? No! I didn’t know. I mean, I think it could be true. They were always talking bullshit about vampires.”

While Maria pulled Aurora back onto the couch, August chimed in. “So it could be a trap? We can’t let her in.” Charles agreed to that, but Aurora shook her head.

“No, I don't think so. Tara is an awful sister and yes, she’s mean. But she’s not that bad. She wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose.” Charles, August, and even Maria looked skeptical at Aurora. 

August shared another glance with Charles, both unsure if they could trust Aurora’s judgment. 

“Are you sure?” August asked, giving her a piercing stare. “You know, I have seen a lot of people being surprised at how cruel their loved ones could be.” But Aurora didn’t back down.

“I’m sure. She wouldn’t harm anyone, especially not me. We never had a good relationship but she protected me from my father before. Our dad might have taught her to hate, but she wouldn't hurt me. Please let her in and listen to her. We have to help Melot.” The thought of her lover being in danger brought Aurora back to crying.

August and Charles exchanged some more words, but in the end August sent Will and Mike to check Tara and bring her in. After they were gone, Charles joined Maria in her efforts to calm Aurora, while August remained leaning against the wall, his jaw clenched. The silence was suffocating but none of them dared to speak, all of them dreading what Tara had to say.

When Will and Mike returned, guiding Tara to stand in the middle of the room, Aurora’s sobs fell silent. Like everyone else, she stared at her sister. And truth to be told, Tara looked like she was genuinely terrified. 

“You are supposed to bow before the king.” Will told her, but August waved him off. 

“We don’t have time for silly courtesies. Tell! Why are you here? What do you know about Melot?” August’s voice was not as calm as Aurora expected. Apparently, the disappearance of his nephew concerned him more than it seemed at first.

Tara was trembling as she stood between the other two vampires. Her eyes were wide and tears were running down her cheeks.

“You need to help him. They…” Her voice broke and she whimpered before she could go on.” They want to kill him. In front of the club.”

“Noooo” Aurora’s cry rang through the room. Maria tightened the embrace around her friend. Charles shot up from the couch in less than a blink of an eye and stopped only inches away from Tara’s shocked face. 

“Who are THEY? Where are THEY?” Charles was furious, his fangs bared and his eyes glowing bright. Tara was struggling to stand, her legs quivering. 

August rushed forward, too, pulled Charles back and pressed him down to sit. Then he turned back to Tara, this time slower so Tara could see him move. 

“Okay, we all need to calm down. Tara, please sit. You’re not helpful if you faint before you can tell us anything.” He pushed one of the stools from the breakfast bar over to her. And Tara actually thanked him when she sat down with a deep exhale. 

“Good, now please explain. From the start.” Aurora noticed that she felt a little more relaxed, now that August was talking, and apparently the others did so, too.  Even Tara had stopped shaking.

“It was a trap. Dad knew that you would send someone to the warehouse." Aurora's head shot up. "Dad? You're speaking of our Dad? So it's true?" Tara sighed and nodded. Aurora shut her eyes, shaking her head. "I should have known it was him who led you into all this."

"I'm sorry, Aurora! I didn't think he'd be that cruel. It started with a neighborhood watch. But then they all began to talk about actually hurting vampires. Well, and Dad was the loudest. I think it was him who tipped you, so that Melot would come to the warehouse. They were surprised when Melot came after sunrise, but they had silver chains, UV light emitters and silver knives soaked in garlic oil. Melot gave a good fight, we had a handful of injured men. But in the end they managed to lock him into the silver cage.”

Aurora started sobbing again, but Tara kept talking.

“Dad told me to guard him. I… I wasn’t nice. I mean, he had stolen my sister.” Tara looked at Aurora apologetically. “But then we talked. Melot begged me to set him free, he was talking about Aurora all the time. He didn’t even care that HE was captured. His only concern was Aurora. I saw just how much he loves her. That made me think. And then I got back to Dad and the others, and they talked about their plans.” She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes. “I had never thought that they actually wanted to hurt anyone.”

“What DID you think they were planing with knives and chains and a fucking cage?” Charles snarled at her, but August raised his hands to calm the other vampire. “Let her talk.” He gestured to Tara to go on.

“Yeah, I know how stupid I’ve been. I just… I wanted my dad to be proud of me. But not at that cost. Not by seriously harming someone.” Another desperate wail came from Tara. “Not by killing someone.”

She got up from the chair and slowly walked over to her sister. Charles stood, towering protectively over Aurora, but Aurora tugged at his arm. “It’s okay, Charles.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Charles sat back down, but his posture showed he was still on alert. If he sensed even a hint of danger to Aurora, he would tear Tara apart.

But Tara got on her knees in front of her sister, her whole body shaken by guilt and regret.

“I am so sorry, Aurora. For everything. I was such an awful person. I just wanted to be loved. I wanted dad to see me. But when I spoke with Melot, I realized that what dad could give me would never be anything close to love. I saw in Melot’s eyes what love looked like. And I realized that Melot is a better man than any human I have met in a while. I realized my mistake. I am so sorry.”

Tara broke down on the floor, crying helplessly. But to her surprise, Aurora dropped beside her and pulled her into her arms. 

“It’s okay, Tara. You’ve suffered the same way as I did. You’re a victim, too. And you recognized your mistake. I forgive you. But please, you need to help us to save Melot.”

The sound he let out as the knife cut deep into his cheek was more that of a wounded animal than that of a man. The garlic oil burned his flesh. His teeth gritted, he hissed at his attacker. The silver chains cut into the skin of his bare chest as he bucked forward. 

“August will kill you for this. You have no idea what is waiting for you.” Melot’s eyes were glowing bright red, filled with hate and anger. The UV light they had pointed at him slowly drained the last bits of energy that his lover’s blood had given him. His heart was racing in his chest. Somehow he needed to get out of here. He had hoped that Tara would help him, but he hadn’t seen her in what felt like days. Not like Melot had any sense of time anymore.

“Your king might rethink his actions once he finds your head in front of his den of iniquity.” Spit hit Melot’s face as the man spoke. “But before we get to this, I think we’ll send his majesty a little present from you.” 

Melot’s eyes widened as he saw how the man meticulously draped a handkerchief on the table beside him, added some strange hooks and last put a massive pair of pliers on top.

It took August only thirty minutes to gather his whole crew in the club. The most difficult part was to get the people out, but now the only ones left standing on the dance floor were the vampires that worked for him and the three human girls who were unlucky enough to somehow get caught up into that chaos. 

August and Charles were debating plans, Tara helping them with every bit of information she had about the warehouse and the people who called themselves Warriors of Light. Weapons were gathered, teams assigned, and when it was close to sunrise, the last step of preparation was up to Aurora. 

Her tears had run dry a long time ago, now there was only anger left. Anger and determination. They were going to save her lover. And she was the key to making it work. Aurora held out both her arms. She was still scared, she hadn’t forgotten the last time she had been bitten in this club. But August and Charles stood on either side of her, making sure that none of the vampires would freak out, once her blood hit their tongue. 

One after another, they knelt down at her side and took their portion of what would help them to save Melot’s life. More than a few times, August and Charles had to intervene to make sure that they didn’t take too much. But Aurora made it through it. She had offered her blood to every one of August’s men. Now it was time to go.

“What are they doing here?” The man guarding the entrance squinted his eyes at Maria and Aurora. Tara just shrugged. “This is my sister, you stupid idiot. You better let her in or my dad will make sure you remember the face of his daughter in the future.” The threat was enough that the man didn’t even dare to ask about the second woman anymore. He let them in. 

Tara took long strides through the dirty room where some of her dad’s men were working on something that looked like a huge wooden cross with chains attached to it. Aurora didn’t even dare to think about what they had planned to do with it. She followed her sister with her head sunken to her chest. Maria squeezed her hand and whispered under her breath: “Don’t worry, we’ll save him.”

Tara led them up some stairs and knocked on the door. The window in it was stained so much that you couldn’t see through anymore, but she saw a shadow moving inside the room and heard her dad shouting. “What is it?” Tara opened the door wide enough to let him see who was standing next to her.

“Aurora?” 

Tears glistened in Aurora’s eyes. Tears of anger. She wanted to storm over and hit him, kick him, do everything she could to hurt him. But it wouldn’t be nearly enough. He deserved to suffer so much more. 

She hid her feelings behind a false smile. “Dad, I’m sorry I ran away. I made a mistake. Please let me go home with you. I want to take care of you, Dad.” Aurora hated every syllable, but this was what she had to say to keep him distracted. 

And it worked. He let them in. “I thought you were the same as your mother. Running away as soon as some monster showed interest in your cunt.” The hatred was written clearly on his face when he went on.

“Oh, you should have seen her, how she glowed whenever he laid his strange eyes on her. How she smiled when she brushed her hand through his silver strands of hair. As if he were some fucking god. But he was a monster, a fucking bloodsucker and killer. And then she was pregnant. And he was gone.” Her dad chuckled spitefully.

“Who knows, maybe you’re my daughter after all, if you realize that we have to fight those monsters.”

Aurora’s heart was racing. So that was the source of all the hate and anger. She felt guilty. But then she remembered what this man had done to Melot, what he was planning to do to him. 

And then there was no more time left to ruminate on feelings. The windows shattered and in the next moment, two vampires jumped into the room and took Aurora’s father down. Shouts and screams came from all over the warehouse, glass shattering, sounds of people fighting. Some of her father’s men ran into the room and Aurora and Maria stumbled to the corner. Tara jumped to the other side, trying to fight one of the men. Chaos broke loose.

Mike came into Aurora’s sight. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll get you out of here.” He picked Aurora up with one arm, the other one wrapped around Maria and then Aurora felt like she was going to faint. The world moved way too fast and the next moment she found herself standing outside the warehouse. Mike gave her and Maria a concerned look “Are you hurt?” Both girls just shook their heads. “You wait here, I’m going back in and get Tara.”

August and Charles stormed into the room the girls had just been pulled from. Melot followed them, trying to match their speed, gathering his last remnants of energy. They quickly scanned the room to get an overview of what was happening. Will had one man in his grip, Marshall held two others, but two human guys had Tara, a weapon held against her head. Charles and Melot both noticed that there was no sight of Aurora and Maria and they didn’t know what to think of it. But there was no time to make plans. The man in Will’s arm fidgeted, a sly smirk on his face. 

“There he is, finally, the king.” He spat on the floor. “Well, it surely isn’t how I had planned to take you down, your majesty, but sometimes you have to adapt, right?” The man fiddled once more, his hands fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. 

Charles was the first to realize what he held in his hand. But even for a vampire, sometimes things happen too fast, so Charles was a fraction of a second too late. 

“Dad, noooo!” Tara shouted, she had seen the trigger, too. But then the explosion hit them. 

Melot opened his eyes. A constant ringing penetrated his ears and he had difficulties determining his surroundings. Finally, his eyes focused and he saw how August and Charles got up, too. Will and Marshall brushed dust and debris from their chests. Melot scanned the room for more signs of people being alive. The man who had pushed the trigger was lying lifeless on the floor. The others seemed to be dead, too. 

Mike appeared in the room, looking shocked. “Melot, thank fuck, you’re alive. Aurora and Maria are waiting outside.” The wave of relief that rushed through Melot’s body was tremendous. He let out a deep sigh. But then he saw movement from under the rubble.  August, Charles and Melot all rushed to move the wreckage aside. Tara’s breath was short and panicked. Blood was running down her temple. Charles helped to get the junks of bricks off her body but what they found underneath destroyed their hope. There was not much they could do for Tara. 

“Melot, please!” Tara’s voice was weak, her mouth was filled with more blood. “Melot, can you help me?” He cupped her cheek carefully. 

“Tara, there’s just one way to save you.” He closed his eyes for a moment. It was hard, he wanted to save her so much. She was the one who had saved him. But he needed her to decide for herself. 

“We can turn you. But we can’t do anything for you if you want to stay human.”

Tears were falling from Tara’s eyes.  Melot saw that she had made up her mind. The determination on her face was a stab in his heart. 

“Tell her that I’m sorry. And take good care of her.” Tara closed her eyes.

A hand on his shoulder brought Melot back to reality. “Go find your girl.” August told him. “I will take care of her.”

Maria pressed her elbow into Aurora’s side. Aurora forced her eyes to open, but the moment she realized who was walking towards her, she had found energy she didn’t know she still had in her. Aurora jumped to her feet and ran into his arms. Melot let out a small huff.

“Careful, my love! I fear I’m a little sore.” Aurora took him in from head to toe. Her eyes widened as she saw the wounds the knife had left on his face, the burn marks of the silver chains on his chest, wrists and ankles and the dried blood in the corners of his mouth. 

“What have they done to you?” New tears were falling from her eyes. They had hurt him so badly and it was all her fault. 

A sad smile formed on his face. ”Nothing that won’t heal, my love. Don’t worry about me. But there’s something else I need to tell you…”

Melot sat down on the grass and pulled Aurora into his lap. He held her as tight as possible as he told her about the death of her stepfather and her sister. When he repeated what Tara had said to him, Aurora was shaking in his arms. 

“I’m so sorry, my love. I wish I could have saved her.” 

Aurora had never seen the mansion filled with so many people and yet, it had never been as quiet as it was now. Some of August's men were standing in the kitchen, treating their wounds in silence. Charles had Maria on his lap and they were quietly whispering to each other, Charles’ hand drawing circles on Maria’s back to soothe her. August was standing by the window, staring into the distance. The sun was setting, illuminating his face with orange light. 

And Melot was sitting behind her, resting against the couch. He was weak, barely able to keep his eyes open, but he refused to lay down. He never wanted to let Aurora out of his embrace again. 

August turned, asking his men to leave them alone. Maria and Aurora both got up, too, but August stopped them.

“No, please, stay. It looks like these two need your presence now.” A surprisingly soft smile formed on August’s face as he looked at Charles and Melot. “And what I have to say affects you, too, Aurora.” The women sat back down again, Melot pulling Aurora close and pressing a soft kiss on the back of her neck.

“I need to apologize.” August began. “I should have listened to you sooner. I underestimated once more how cruel humans are. You would think I should have learned it by now.” He let out a sad chuckle. “You all have given your best today, and I’m grateful to have you on my side. Especially you, Melot. You have been as brave and strong as I always knew you were. I am proud of you.” 

Melot straightened his shoulders, surprised by the words of his uncle.

“Charles, you had the guts to call me out when it was needed. Thank you for this. It takes courage to speak the truth. Especially if that means you have to contradict me.” August let out another small laugh. 

“Aurora, we need to be more careful than ever with you. What happened today will make its rounds and there will be questions how we managed to operate in bright daylight. I fear I need to keep you more closely under my protection. I am so sorry that I have to do this to you. Especially now that you’re grieving. To make it easier for you, and also as a sign of my trust to you, Melot, I give the task of protecting Aurora to you.” He smiled as he saw Melot’s eyes widening in surprise. “I am sure you will take good care of her. Now please, feed! You need to get back to strength.”

Melot wasn’t sure if he understood correctly. “Your majesty, thank you for your kind words. And thank you for your trust. I will not disappoint you. But, I’m sorry, did you mean I am allowed to feed on Aurora?”

August smiled and instead of an answer he walked over to Melot and patted his head. “Charles, keep an eye on him!” Then he turned to go.

Melot and Charles looked at each other in disbelief. But Aurora cupped Melot’s cheek and guided him to lean back again. “He's right, Melot. You need to feed. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips before she offered her neck to him. 

Melot traced the line of her neck with his finger. He pulled her even closer into his lap. When he spoke, his lips brushed over the skin of her throat. “My fangs are still a little sore from that idiot's attempt to pull them out. I hope I won’t hurt you too much.”

He pressed wet kisses at her pulse point before he finally sank his teeth into her throat. And it didn’t hurt at all. As Melot sucked on her neck, Aurora felt the best she had been in days. He was with her, he was alive, and he still wanted to be with her. She felt his heart beating in sync with her own. It was going to be okay. 

Melot fell asleep almost immediately after he was done feeding. Aurora decided that she’d stay with him on the couch. Charles and Maria got up to leave them to themselves. 

“I’ll bring you some blankets. Do you need anything else?” Charlie offered, but Aurora didn’t need anything else in the world as the man in her arms. As Charlie left, Maria kissed Aurora on the top of her head.

“Long day, hm? Get some rest. You know I will always be there for you.” There were noises in the kitchen and Maria looked up smiling, expecting Charlie to be back, but then she screamed. There was a stranger standing in the middle of the room, his face hidden under a dark hood. 

“I need to speak with Augustus.”

_____________

Part 9

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 6

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Chapter 6: Red Flags and Long Nights

Chapter Summary: Dieter is on set in New Zealand when the two of you have a falling out. Neither of you take it particularly well.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 7.2k+

Content / Warnings: alternating POV, death, cocaine use and addiction, grief, PTSD, heavy angst, flashbacks, communication problems, introspection, betrayal, meaningless sex

Notes: Chapter title from "Red Flags and Long Nights" by She Wants Revenge. Before you read this I just wanna remind you that this will have a happy ending. Ok? Ok.

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It’s been a month since you’ve seen Dieter. 

The morning he left New York, you woke up in his arms, in that impossibly comfortable bed at The Plaza, before the sun rose. You laid there, fixated on his sleeping face, for at least a half an hour as you tried to parse out your potpourri of emotions. 

First and foremost, there was the sexual attraction. Lust infiltrated every cell in your body, plump with want, willing you towards him at all times. The crush that you held on the back burner for months had come to fruition, and you were ravenous for him. Even then, your body raw and sore from multiple rounds of fucking, when you thought you had cum more than a human possibly could be capable of within 24 hours, desire churned beneath your skin. It was maddening. 

Lingering behind that insatiable thirst was something sweeter, softer. Something that anchored you to the bed, staring at his handsome face until he woke up on his own. Something that fluttered in your chest when he wrapped his arms around your body or kissed your lips. That thing that’s like a curl of steam off a cup of coffee fixed just how you like it. It felt familiar and warm when you were with him. 

Then, beneath the desire, beneath that tooth-rotting sweetness, there’s an undercurrent of friendship. You genuinely love spending time with him. After taking a stoned bubble bath together, he ordered pancakes, crab cakes, and a chocolate cake. You wrapped yourselves in fluffy white robes, as you ate a menagerie of cakes, and brainstormed a list of the famous people who’ve probably had sex in the suite. 

After this, you sprawled out on your belly across the bed and sank into comfort. Dieter approached from behind you, rumbling, “I could go for a different kind of cake,” palming your ass cheeks apart from behind. You gasped, then arched against him as his tongue slid in the space he made.

There’s this inextricable connection you feel to him. Like the two of you are made from the same star stuff, tethered together, always touching by underground wires. He puts you at ease, allowing you to come out of your shell with both important and frivolous things. 

For instance, that night at the hotel, the two of you discussed whether or not you thought Paul McCartney died in 1966. Dieter almost swayed your opinion, showing you the cover of Abbey Road and Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club, playing Revolution 9 backwards and pointing out where the backtracking allegedly says “turn me on, dead man.” But then your high faded and, much to Dieter’s dismay, you realized how ridiculous the conspiracy theory is. 

But then you told him about your experience with the psychomanteum. You told him about the stars, and what your dad told you, and the bear hug. He told you about his experience. About James. The river inside the mirror. It didn’t destroy him to talk about it that time. 

Which spotlights the most conflicting thing about this thing with Dieter. His drug use. 

When he stormed out of your apartment, after that switch flipped and he left without explanation… then when he came back completely strung out and a different person. It was like you time-traveled back to that night last December. The night of the accident. 

It was Ethan’s birthday, which happens to be Christmas Day. His birthday gift was 50 mls of sumi ink from a specialty art supply store. During his last stint in rehab six years prior, Ethan started using ink as a medium for art as an outlet for emotional expression. Most of his illustrations were abstract and high-contrast. 

You fucking loved them. 

Throughout the years, you came to notice that his drug use and creativity had an inverse relationship. Periods of time when he would channel his pain into art were generally sober periods from hard drugs. When he was binging coke, he didn’t touch the ink. 

So when he was in the midst of his worrisome spiral into addiction, and he told you all about this ink that was so fucking cool, blackest ink in the city, it’s something you squirreled away for later. You thought maybe the gift would re-ignite his passion for creation. 

In retrospect, you think maybe it’s more accurate to say that you thought maybe it would extinguish his passion for destruction. A Hail Mary. 

You were so fucking wrong. 

So when Dieter returned that night, all black eyes and jerky movements and fast-talking, you were there again. Ethan was screaming at you from the driver’s seat, asking you, “Why would you tell them, Lou? Now they’re looking for us. Don’t you understand?!”

But with Dieter that night, unlike the night you and Ethan died, you were able to contain the fire.

While Dieter was sleeping it off throughout the following two days, you thought about this. How you shouldn’t get involved with him, no matter what. How, even if he’s handsome, and fun, and interesting, and makes you feel like you’re free falling when he touches you, you cannot give in to those feelings. Because giving in to those feelings means putting yourself in that passenger’s seat again. And you didn’t know if you’d survive it a second time. 

You decided that he was still struggling with something that was too fucking raw, too close to home, for you to deal with. 

Then you woke up to him pulling you into an embrace. That heartfelt “Thank you, Lua.” You felt his appreciation and affection squeeze every ounce of willpower out of your body. 

The morning at The Plaza, as you etched his sleeping face into your long-term memory, you considered this again. You wondered if his cocaine use was a frequent occurrence. Thought about asking him when he woke. Weighed his potential answers against these freshly-caught feelings.

You took into account that this thing might not even make it past that day. 

It was entirely possible, you reasoned, that he doesn’t have room for you in his life in any kind of romantic capacity. Maybe that would be it. He’d go fly off to New Zealand for filming that day and lose interest, and it wouldn’t fucking matter anyway. 

So after his eyelids fluttered open, and he smattered your face with good morning kisses that made your heart swell, you decided to just… let it go. You wanted to soak up those moments while they still lasted. You didn’t want to ruin it by asking him about his drug use, or his feelings, or what this thing was. 

And now, one month later, you’re still in communication one way or another nearly every day, and these questions are still unanswered. It’s the elephant in the room. 

You’re not sure if it’s a team effort, this avoidance, but it’s been eating away at you. Neither of you talk about the next time you’ll see each other, or whether or not you’re seeing other people, or whether or not he’s using. 

You explain all of this to Parker as he sits across from you at your countertop. His eyes don’t leave the baked goods he’s helping you box, but his eyebrow arches. 

“Ok, what?” you spit and cross your arms, shooting a glare at him. 

His amber brown eyes flick to your face and he scoffs, “I don’t know, have you tried talking to him about it?” 

“Well, no…” 

“Well, maybe you should,” he shoots back, crossing his arms in defiance. 

You stare at each other for a moment before you give in and drop your arms to your sides, then groan to the ceiling, “Fine.” 

Parker gives you a satisfied shrug and smirks. You both resume carefully boxing brownies, cookies, and cake donuts. 

“How do you feel about him?” Parker inquires. 

A grumble leaves your throat involuntarily. His brow arches knowingly again. You sigh and answer him honestly in a mutter, “I like him.” 

“Say more,” Parker coaxes, “Do you like him like a friend? Like a friend who fucked the shit outta you for a day and that’s it? Or do you like him like you want him to be your boyfriend?” 

You roll your eyes and shake your head, grumbling the answer under your breath.

“I can’t hear you, Miss Lou.” 

“I want him to be my boyfriend,” you admit loudly. The answer burns your cheeks and makes your heart start racing. 

“Finally , you admit it!” Parker groans gleefully, tilting his head back towards the ceiling and spreading his arms out wide as if he’s thanking God for answering his prayers. 

“Oh my god, the drama,” you snort. 

“Girl, don’t tell me about all that shit then accuse me of drama,” Parker teases, “Y’all have been drooling over each other forever.” 

“Just because I like him does not mean the feeling is mutual,” you remind him as you compare the baked goods in the boxes to your order sheets, verifying all is accounted for. 

“No, you’re right, he’s just fucking you and talking to you in his limited free time and sending you kissy face emojis because he totally wants to be your friend,” he deadpans. 

“Ok, true,” you concede with a chuckle. Parker’s observation makes your stomach flip. When you review the last box, you set down your order forms and say, “All clear, close ‘em up.” 

As the two of you systematically close the order boxes and organize them on your countertop, he asks, “What’re you doing Saturday night?” 

“Nothing. Why, what’s up?” 

“Wanna go out with me and Kourtney? I think we’re gonna go out dancing.” 

“Fuck yes I do,” you grin, then take off your apron and throw it on the counter. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket. When you pull it out, you see it’s Dieter FaceTiming you.

You answer and the whole screen is occupied by his smiling face as he greets you enthusiastically, “Hello from tomorrow!” 

“Hello from yesterday!” you respond with a delighted grin, “Look, Parker is here!” 

When you turn the camera to face Parker, you catch him smirking to himself. 

“HI PARKER!” Dieter bellows, pulling the camera back to reveal that he’s waving.

“Hi, love!” Parker responds, then slides the phone from your hand, completely hijacking your conversation, “How’s New Zealand?” 

“Fucking beautiful, do you see this?” He changes the view to his outward facing camera to reveal the inside of his messy trailer, then starts laughing hysterically before the screen is occupied by his face again, “I bet you were expecting something cooler.” 

You start laughing in the background, then make your way back to the kitchen to start loading the dishwasher. 

“Not that your dirty ass trailer isn’t impressive or anything, but I was definitely expecting a beach,” Parker cackles.

“Hey! It’s not dirty, it’s just… messy,” Dieter defends.

“Yeah, tell that to your girl and see what she says,” Parker snorts, then looks away from the phone and sees that you’re spraying Lysol on the countertops and points the camera at you, “She’s literally cleaning right now.”

“So?!” you scoff and look down at your work in progress, trying to hide the embarrassment spreading hot across your face.  

“Of course she is,” Dieter chuckles.

Parker walks up beside you and says, “Show me again, love, I want her to see what a slob her little boyfie is.”

“Oh my god, Parker, I’m gonna murder you-” you cover your face in mortification. 

“Look look look,” he cuts you off. You look up and see the screen flip points of view from Dieter’s face to the inside of the trailer. 

“Show us around, baby,” Parker demands, “Give us a tour.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Dee-”

“Don’t listen to her, yes you do.” 

The camera shakes as Dieter laughs. He walks to one end of the trailer and holds it up to his eye level. It looks like an RV your aunt Patty lived in every summer back home, but a little nicer. There’s a couch whose brown upholstery reflects the dim light like it would be sticky on the skin. Clothing and towels are strewn about on the seats. The stationary table that sits in the middle of the couch’s three sides is aluminum with what looks to be a fake wood grain finish on the tabletop. It’s hard to tell beneath the notebook, sketch pad, various writing utensils, and pile of jolly ranchers. 

A tiny kitchenette is currently being used as a place for Dieter to empty his pockets. Piled on the two burner glass stovetop is a pair of sunglasses, a brown leather wallet, and miscellaneous pocket trash like receipts, change, and candy wrappers. 

“Well, this is the couch where I sit.” He points the camera to the couch, then the tabletop, where he flips through his sketchbook, “I paint when I’m bored sometimes.” 

The illustrations were made with black acrylic paint, heavy strokes that pile on the paper and create texture, then make way into negative space for the planes of the subjects’ faces. The subjects, vaguely human, look like they were sunk into a pit of tar and drug out into the light. They look tortured, screaming for help. 

Except for one. 

You only see it for a brief moment before he abruptly slams the cover closed. The image will be burned in your brain forever, though. 

It’s a sketch, not a painting, its details messy but articulate. You recognize the tattoos on the figure’s arm. A sleeve of fruit, ridges of scar tissue interrupting them in various places. Face lit up in a smile. The curves of your naked body mapped out on the paper. 

All the air is sucked from your lungs. Parker whispers in your ear, “Did you see that?” 

You nod, but don’t look at him. Dieter clears his throat and moves on with the tour. 

“This is the smallest bathroom I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing,” Dieter slides open an accordion door and steps into the bathroom, which is cluttered by its own design, only enough space for one person in its cramped confines. A navy canvas toiletry bag sits open in the small sink, which looks to contain prescriptions and over-the-counter medications, a razor, shaving cream, and a bottle of cologne. He points the camera at the mirror and waves at the reflection. 

When he steps out and closes the bathroom door, he moves on to the bed at the back of the trailer that’s, predictably, unmade, “This is where I take naps and read. And, uh, that’s it.” 

He switches the view so it’s the front facing camera, and his face takes up the screen again as he spreads himself across the bed, nestling his head into a pillow. 

“It’s not that bad,” you smirk, side-eying Parker playfully. 

“Ok that’s how I know you like him,” Parker snickers and hands the phone back to you, “You go talk, love, I’ll clean up.” 

Your whole face is on fire with embarrassment. 

You glare at him and take your leave, walking back into your bedroom, closing the door behind you. Parker starts playing music over your stereo as if to drown out the sounds of your conversation. When you plop down on the bed, you finally look back at the screen and see Dieter grinning from ear-to-ear at you. 

“Hi,” you say coyly. 

“Hi,” he responds, his voice low and serene, “How are you doing, beautiful?” 

“I am… mortified,” you laugh, covering your face, “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he smiles, then scratches his clean-shaven chin, “It’s cute.” 

Cute. Not “I like you too” or something similar. Cute. 

“Anyway, how are you?” you change the subject. 

“Great,” he tells you as he folds the pillow up behind his head to prop himself up further, “Almost done filming, tomorrow is the last day.” 

“Doing anything to celebrate?” 

“Yeah, there’s gonna be a party Saturday night for the cast and crew,” he sighs, “It should be pretty fun.” 

He jostles the phone around as he tries to get comfortable. From this new angle, you see more of his bed. There’s a stapled-together printout of the screen play with little tabs sticking out in various sections, a dull pencil with a worn-down eraser, and there’s… an open condom wrapper. 

Your mind goes blank. A twisting feeling churns your insides like you swallowed a spool of barbed wire and it’s tearing your intestines to shreds. 

He continues talking, not noticing the way your face has fallen, or the tears pooling in the corners of your eyes, “It’s very fancy-schmancy, I guess. I have to get all dressed up in a monkey suit.”

You sniffle and nod, then position the camera so he can’t see you. Your voice is shaky when you respond, still trying to hold your shit together, “That’s… fun.”

From your vantage point, you see him frown at your awkward response, then squint when he notices that the camera is pointed at the ceiling.

“What’s wrong?”

Your voice is caught in your throat. Tears breach the edge of your eyelids and slide hot down your cheeks. 

“Lua?” 

“I’m here,” you answer, trying to hide how your voice trembles, “Sorry, I um-”

“Are you ok? What happened?” 

“N-nothing, I’m fine,” you lie. 

He props himself up on the bed and the wrapper crinkles when his elbow presses it into the mattress. You see him acknowledge its presence when he raises his arm to see what the noise was. Realization dawns on his face. His eyes widen and he starts to stammer, “Lua, it’s not like that-” 

“It’s fine, Dee, we- we never said we were exclusive or anything, I’m- I’m just being dumb. Ignore me,” you try to brush it off, but your gut clenches harder, and you start to sob, then frantically try to explain through your blubbering, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m reacting this way,” then throw the phone on the bed and curl up in a ball, smacking the side of your own head, trying to get yourself to stop, “Goddamnit, I’m so fucking stupid.” 

“Hey, hey- no no no, no you’re not,” he coos, “It was just sex, it’s not like- like it is with you-”

“Dieter, I don’t care, do whatever you want,” you squeak. 

And it’s so fucking obvious that you’re lying. But you can’t stop this tidal wave of rejection and betrayal from rattling your bones. In a panic, you wipe your face off, then pick up the phone and give him your best attempt at a smile, but it folds in anguish and your voice cracks before you can finish telling him, “Really, I’m fine, but I- I have to go-” 

“Please don’t, baby, come on-”

“I’ll talk to you later, ok?” you lie one more time before ending the call and throwing the phone across the bed. 

Your head spins. Everything around you turns blurry and dull. A heaviness pools in your chest and sucks the life out of you. Nothing feels real. The phone starts vibrating, and you see it’s Dieter calling. 

Shame drips down your spine, branching out to clutch your stomach and burrow into your thoughts, telling you how fucking stupid you are to think he would actually want you. It was all a fucking joke. Of course it was, how could you not see that? 

With movements that you can’t feel, not really, you reach over and grab the phone. Reject the call. Find his contact in your phone. Click “block this caller” and toss it back. 

Now he doesn’t have to pretend that you meant anything at all. 

Dieter stares at his phone screen in dismay for about a minute before he tries calling you again. You reject the call. His heart pounds heavy in his chest. Anxiety starts to tingle inside the cords of his neck. He jumps out of bed and starts pacing the length of the trailer, trying to keep up with his racing thoughts. 

He thinks of your crumpled, tear stained face. That sad smile you pasted on before your honesty betrayed you and tore it down. How you scolded yourself, saying that you’re so fucking stupid.  

His stomach churns and he feels nauseous. The reality of the situation starts to sink in. You’ll probably never speak to him again. 

Regrettably, his first instinct after thinking about this is anger. It flares hot in his chest and balls his fists at his sides.  

He tells himself that he didn’t technically do anything wrong. It’s not like the two of you were dating. You even said it yourself. Maybe you’ll see that you’re being ridiculous. 

Is she being ridiculous, though?  

He tries to imagine if it had been the other way around. If he found out you had fucked someone while he was here. Closing his eyes, he imagines that string bean man who he shooed from your apartment that one night touching your body the way Dieter did. He imagines someone else kissing you, holding you close, fucking you. His blood starts to simmer. 

Why didn’t he throw that fucking wrapper away? More importantly, why did he fuck Katie in the first place? It’s not like it was worth it. 

He had just gotten off the phone with you and was stewing in his feelings. It’s confusing how he can feel so much joy and comfort when he talks to you, only to be whiplashed back into that big, vacant feeling when the phone call ends. Like you’re the sun, shining warm rays of light onto him. Then the sun sets and he remembers how cold and dark life is without you. 

And he was thinking about how he wanted to tell you all of this, but he wasn’t sure how you would react. He was thinking about how you’re still in mourning, still in love with your husband, and wondering if maybe you don’t want anything more than this with him. The words no strings attached linger in his brain every time his heart aches with adoration for you. 

On top of that, Dieter knows his schedule is nothing but chaos. As his marriage to Anika proved, it’s not an easy situation to deal with by any means. 

He was thinking about all of this, sinking deep into a pit of loneliness and insecurity that threatened to swallow him whole, when Katie waltzed into his trailer. 

Now, obviously he and Katie have had their occasional dalliances in the past. There was the night of her party when she sucked him off in her closet. Earlier that same week, after they did their screen tests, they met for a drink (or, more accurately, five drinks) and wound up fucking in Dieter’s hotel room. There were occasional flirtations and provocative photos sent via text. 

Since this thing with you began, though, he hasn’t found himself interested in anyone else. Not in any real, meaningful kind of way. He still thought Katie was attractive, but didn’t feel attracted to her. They were mildly flirtatious, as always, and had romantic scenes together, but neither of those count for anything. 

Now that he thinks about it, he realizes that things between him and Katie had been completely platonic during shooting until yesterday. It’s like she could smell the desperation coming off of him in waves when she sat down across from him at the table and frowned, “Are you ok?”  

He looked up from his sketchbook and released a heavy sigh, “Sure. Why?” 

“You look so sad,” she pouted, searching his face. 

“Just, uhh,” he looked down and realized he was sketching you, and frowned at the paper, then looked back up to meet Katie’s concerned green eyes. It seemed like she wanted him to confide in her, and he didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t. Running his fingers through his hair, he shrugged, “It gets so lonely, you know? Guess I’m feeling kind of down because of it.” 

As he looked down at that drawing of you, his lips parted, and the words on the tip of his tongue: and there’s this woman…

But then she spoke.

“Do… you want some company?” she asked, then licked her lips and smirked, “I can try to cheer you up.” 

That piece of him that is chronically hollow ached in his chest, begging to be filled. His shoulders slumped as he sat back in his seat and watched her stand up, make her way over to him. She settled in his lap and linked her hands at the back of his neck. 

He should have said no. A voice in his head was screaming for him to reject her. But he ignored it, lifting his hands around her waist. Kissed the lips that didn’t seem to fit quite right against his own. His hands on her body didn’t tremble with electricity. There was no passion. 

It seemed so clinical and detached. Fucking for fucking’s sake. Bodies writhing against each other, feeding the hunger of the flesh. When he’s with you, there’s something else that makes sex fucking magical. It feeds his soul. He can’t get enough of it. 

He fucked Katie trying to satiate his thirst for intimacy. To satisfy his yearning for you. But it didn’t work. 

Like when you’re craving mac and cheese, but you’re at an upscale restaurant that calls it something like five-cheese pasta. So you order it and it’s pretty fancy, it’s plated nice and costs fucking $40, and after you eat it, you’re no longer hungry. You pay for it and leave, but it didn’t hit the spot, so to speak. You’re still thinking about the kind that comes in the blue box and reminds you of the comfort of your childhood home. And you think “why did I waste my time on this bullshit five-cheese pasta when I could have just gone to the goddamn grocery store and got what I really wanted?”  

Kind of like that. 

Ironically, today he called you with the intention of asking you to go on a real date with him. He wanted to tell you that he really likes you and would like to take it further, if you’ll have him. Fucking Katie just made him realize that he doesn’t want that. He wants you. 

Even more ironic yet, your emotional reaction to seeing the condom wrapper, to finding out he fucked someone else, made him see that you felt the same way. 

Felt, in the past tense, being the operative word. 

He tries calling you again. The call doesn’t go through. He can only stare at the screen blankly. You blocked him. 

Like everything else that’s been good in life, he’s fucked this up royally. Maybe he doesn’t deserve good things. His thoughts drift to the baggy of white powder in his toiletry bag. 

At the advice of Mark and Brenda, but more importantly, out of respect for the effort you put into helping him through his withdrawal, he hasn’t touched it. But now… he needs something to neutralize the agony seeping into his veins. 

Dieter retrieves the supplies he’ll need and clears the table. He pours it onto the surface, eyeballing what he thinks is about a gram, and cuts it into neat lines with his credit card. The clickclickclickclick sound stimulates a Pavlovian response. His neck and hands start to tingle in anticipation. 

He runs his index finger along the residual white powder on the card, collecting it in the grooves of his fingerprint, then rubs it against his gums. The familiar bitter taste makes him hum in approval. His gum tissues soak up the drug and start to go numb. 

He grabs a short, cut off section of a plastic straw, positioning it inside his nostril while blocking the other with his middle finger, and bends over the lines, starting at the leftmost one. In one swift movement, the line disappears and coats the inside of his nasal cavity. He leans back and removes the straw from his nose, then gives the nostril a few more sharp inhales before taking a deep breath. It burns in his skull like hellfire. 

He goes in for another. And another. 

The cocaine dissolves into the mucous membrane, crossing the brain blood barrier. Euphoria pumps through Dieter’s veins, making him feel god-like, feather light, and lightening fast, anesthetizing the ache of emptiness. 

Pure, all-consuming, mind-numbing bliss. 

He goes in for another. 

The dim lighting at the bar of Club 96 has you feeling disoriented, only intensified by the bass thudding from a wall of speakers behind the DJ. It rattles your ribcage. You scream over the music to the busy bartender, requesting a cranberry vodka and three chuck norris shots as you shove your credit card across the sticky bar top. He nods and takes the card. 

You lean your back against the bar, surveying the scene with a critical eye. Blue lights douse the pulsing dance floor, broken up by the shimmering specks of white coming from the disco ball on the ceiling. The people dancing are smiling as they twist and turn to the beat of the electronica music. It looks so carefree. 

You wonder what they’re all running from tonight. 

The girl in the tight black dress and shiny pumps, whose hair is falling around her swaying head in dark curls like a waterfall, eyes closed as she tilts her head back and bathes in the light of the disco ball, arms outstretched towards it like she’s worshiping at church, why is she here? Is she nursing a broken heart? Trying not to think about the overdue balance on her credit cards? What are the responsibilities and grievances she dropped at the edge of the dance floor like a sacrament to escapism? 

Envy seethes beneath your skin. 

More than anything, you want to feel free from the burdens of your own tortured mind. You want to forget about Dieter and the condom wrapper and the drawing in his sketchbook and that fucking tabloid article and Katie fucking Wainwright and the images your mind conjured of him touching her and fucking her. 

You want to stop drawing parallels between Dieter and Ethan. Because they’re not the same. This fling with Dieter was not the same as your marriage to Ethan. 

But your falling out with Dieter is like digging fingers into a stab wound that’s still healing. Tore the skin back open, scooped your guts out until you were empty again. It hurts in all the same places. 

The bartender returns with three shot glasses and your drink. You make your way through the throngs of people. Parker and Kourtney are leaning against a high top table, huddled close together and talking. By the look on their faces, you guess they’re talking about your not-really-a-break-up-but-kinda. Kourtney’s dark, expertly manicured eyebrows are pressed together in concern, plump, shiny lips pouting with pity. 

You’re so fucking sick of being pitied. 

She’s listening intently to Parker, who is sporting his very fierce papa bear face, snapping his fingers and pointing to emphasize his strong emotions, as his mouth moves 100 miles a minute. Now you know they’re talking about Dieter. 

You’re grateful Parker was already at your apartment when it happened. Parker was singing along to ABBA loudly in your kitchen, completely oblivious. The loud, bright disco music both muffled and juxtaposed your sobbing. 

It took an hour to finally drag yourself out of your bedroom with your tail between your legs, face puffy and somber. When Parker saw your face, his eyes widened in alarm, and he cut the music, asking you, “What happened?” 

“He’s fucking someone else,” you managed to squeak out before erupting with sobs again, “God, Parker, I’m so fucking stupid.”  

His face immediately molded into the expression he’s wearing now. Thick lips pursed, brows arched as high as they go, eyes piercing and unflinching. At that moment, and in this one, he looks about one second away from throwing punches. 

“Babygirl, you are not stupid,” he asserted, pulling you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around his lanky frame and started crying against his t-shirt. One of his hands stroked your hair, trying to soothe your emotional burn, and he asked again, “What happened?” 

You told him about the condom wrapper, and the knee-jerk reactions you and Dieter had. Which, in your mind, solidified one of the lingering fears that kept you from admitting your feelings for him directly: he did not feel the same way about you as you did about him. It was nothing to him. 

Well, maybe not nothing , but close enough to nothing that he’d brazenly fuck another person without telling you. 

It wasn’t until tabloid headlines broke today, telling of Dieter’s episode at the wrap party, that your other fear was confirmed: he’s still using coke. 

You were on Twitter and saw his name trending. A masochistic desire to know, even if it hurt you, overrode your brain, and you found an article from the tabloid DIRT that gave you more details than the limited information you were able to collect from Twitter. 

DIETER BRAVO’S SHOCKING WRAP PARTY MELTDOWN 

The notorious academy award winning actor caused quite a ruckus at the wrap party for his upcoming movie, Limbo . 

Dieter Bravo, who won an Oscar for Best Actor in 2016 for his critically-acclaimed role as Harry Houdini in the movie Spellbound , is reported to have been suffering from some kind of a mental breakdown last night at Anthology Lounge in Auckland, New Zealand. Sources say that Bravo arrived at the black tie event unkempt and barefoot, wearing sweatpants and a dirty t-shirt, and started hurling insults and accusations at co-star Katie Wainwright. Although DIRT was unable to verify what exactly Bravo said about Wainwright, the tirade is reported to have insinuated an off-camera sexual relationship with the up-and-coming actress. 

According to multiple reports, when partygoers and staff tried to intervene, Bravo started flipping over tables and knocking over other decorations, screaming that, “(They’re) all a bunch of f***ing phonies.” Eventually, he calmed down enough to return to his hotel without further complications. 

Bravo has yet to publicly address this incident. 

Continuing the participation in your own suffering, you spent too long stalking Katie Wainwright’s Instagram, torturing yourself with comparisons and insecurities. Then you sent the article to Parker, asking if Katie was the person whose closet you tripped in with him and Dieter. 

He confirmed that it was, then promptly came to your apartment to rip the phone from your hands. The two of you sat on your couch in silence. He held your hand and waited uncharacteristically long to ask you what you were thinking. 

“I just… I thought maybe this time I would make a difference.”

“What do you mean?” Parker’s sympathetic eyes searched your face, then he squeezed your hand, encouraging you to expand your answer. 

“The coke,” you mumbled, “I thought if I helped him get better, he’d stay better. But he didn’t. And I… I can’t fucking do that again, Parker. I can’t.”

Your voice cracked at the last word. He pulled you into a hug, petting your hair, “I know, baby. I know.”

Eventually, he convinced you to keep your plan to go out with him and Kourtney. While getting ready, you were spiraling internally, the not-knowing eating you alive. 

Was Dieter at that party because he and Katie have been dating this whole time? Has this whole thing with you and Dieter been behind her back? Is that where he went when he left your apartment after you passed out when you were drunk? Did he go there again after the psychomanteum incident? 

Was he using this whole time, too? Did he do lines in the bathroom while you were together? Are you really that unbearable to be around sober? 

Parker could tell you were in your head. 

“Girl, stop it,” he said, pausing his eyeshadow application to look at you through the mirror, “You wanna know something about Katie? She’s a vapid rich girl who’s only successful because her daddy paid for her acting classes, and agents, and exposure. If she’s fucking him, it’s probably to get publicity. I don’t think she’s capable of real feelings. Don’t let her get under your skin.” 

“I’m not,” you lied, then swallowed the bullshit and continued quietly, “Even if I was… it’s like… the two things I was worried about were true the whole time. And I just… fuck, I really… I really thought it was real with him.” 

“I know you did, baby. I did, too,” he cooed, then you both resumed your makeup application and he added, “That’s why we’re gonna go get shitfaced and dance, ok?” 

In the present, Parker spots you approaching and starts clapping, “Yes, bitch, gimme gimme gimme.” 

You put on a smile and set the shots down on the table, then take a long sip of your drink. 

“What should we cheer to?” Kourtney asks as she picks up one of the neon colored shots, her big blue eyes darting from you to Parker. 

“How about fuck you Dieter Bravo?” you suggest. 

Your companions raise their shot glasses to yours and you all cheer in unison, “FUCK YOU DIETER BRAVO!” then tip the gut-rottingly sweet liquor-energy drink combination back into your mouth. 

Plastic hits the tabletop with 3 dull thunks that are barely audible over the music. 

“Seriously, I’m so sorry, Lou,” Kourtney croons, pouting again with that pitiful stare. 

You shake your head and wave her off, “I’m gonna be fine.” 

As if your desperation for sexual validation were a giant vacancy sign above your head, a tall, broad shouldered man eyes you from far away and approaches your table. You shoot a glance at Parker and Kourtney, telling them, “Like I said.”

He leans in and introduces himself as Linden. 

Linden looks like a Ken doll. His straight blonde hair is styled into a pompadour that sits neatly atop his head. When he smiles, you notice that his teeth are perfectly straight and probably pristinely white, but it’s hard to tell in the dim, blue lights. He’s wearing an untucked navy blue button-up shirt adorned with bright, tropical leaves and flowers, and salmon colored slacks. His shoes look like they’re probably just as white as his teeth, which is impressive considering how fucking grimy the floor is. 

He’s golden and chiseled and looks like he posts gym selfies on Instagram and goes on annual vacations to an all-inclusive resort in Mexico with his white, suburban, conservative parents. 

His large hand closes over yours. He shakes it, and you feel… nothing. 

But you smile and you try to tinge it with warmth. You let him buy you a drink. You dance with him and let him pull you close. You let him run his hands all along your body, but turn away when he tries to kiss you. You let him kiss your neck instead. When he asks if you want to get out of here, you let him take you back to his apartment. 

Linden’s apartment is neat and in an affluent part of town. He explains on the elevator ride up that he has roommates, but they’re totally cool. Immediately contradicting this claim, one of his roommates shoots you a dirty look when you come stumbling through the door behind him. 

His bedroom looks like it was put together by an interior designer. Soft blue walls adorned with tasteful, but soulless, artwork. Crisp white sheets lined his bed and they smelled like they were doused in laundry detergent and fabric softener. It felt like a hotel room. Completely for show. Impersonal. There was one effect that you spotted before Linden was able to hide it away in his dresser drawer: a picture of him and his Barbie kissing. 

He has a girlfriend. 

The thought sinks in and you find… that you don’t care. You’re here and you want him to help you feel something. To pull the escape hatch on your brain and be free. 

Even if it makes you a fucking hypocrite. 

He turns to you and settles his hands on your hips, presses his clammy forehead to yours, gazing into your eyes. You wonder if your attempts to look interested are effective at all. If he’s just meeting vacant eyes. If he cares at all. He tries to kiss you, and you turn away, shaking your head, “No kissing, ok?”

“Ok,” he agrees, then his lips press against your neck instead. He grabs at the curves of your body, and you hum and whine like his touch is magic even though it’s not. 

You tug at his cock over his briefs and search his face, drinking in the way his pupils spread wide and dark, the way his eyelids flutter and his mouth drops. It soothes your chapped soul, to see lust written in his features. You feel wanted. In control. 

When you both undress and he slides his hand between your legs, it feels… ok. His fingers work you hard and fast, like he’s trying to win a race. It doesn’t feel electric. It starts to make you frustrated. You ask him to put on a condom and pull him down to the mattress, where you climb on top of him. 

He groans when you lower yourself down, engulfing him, but he doesn’t whisper dirty things and sweet nothings into your ear as you roll your hips, rutting him in and out of your body. You can read the pleasure on his face and get off on it. There’s a power in someone desiring you. 

You’re only able to build on this feeling when you close your eyes and let your longing mind wander to that night in the hotel with Dieter. The raw, magnetic energy between you and him. How you felt like you couldn’t possibly get too much of him. How you wanted to fuse yourself to him and prevent him from leaving. How you accepted the next best thing: bruises and hickies and stretched muscles that ached for days afterwards. The ghost of his touch on your skin. 

Even if Linden doesn’t fill you perfectly like Dieter did, or feed your desire like Dieter did, you use his body to pretend. You’re able to pretend everything is how it was a month ago, in blissful ignorance, when you thought that Dieter still wanted you like you wanted him. You spill over the edges at this fantasy, and Linden follows close behind. 

He doesn’t pull you close afterwards, or invite you to stay, or anything, really. When you roll off of him and stare up at the ceiling, Linden falls asleep. You quietly get dressed and take the subway home. 

On the way home, you think about that photo Linden buried in his dresser. You think about the gaping nothingness you feel about him, and then you wonder if this is how Dieter felt about Katie. 

“It was just sex, it’s not like- like it is with you-”

Maybe you were too quick to cut him off. Maybe you were wrong. You were so hasty in your reaction. It was too vulnerable. You feel exposed, like he saw too much. Could he even want you still after that? Or would he just turn you away? 

It stings like salt in your wounds when you imagine his rejection. Your bruised pride aches in your chest and reminds you that you will absolutely not, under any circumstances, go crawling back to that man. No way in hell. 

Right? 

[ Next Chapter ]

[ffxivaltaholic]

Prompt #24: Bar

#FFxivWrite2024

"No."

"Pleaaaase. Just for a little bit...."

A grunt was the initial response the Miq'ote would give, his expression deadpan and uninterested. "I'll pass..." The man rarely drank anymore, having spent the last two years pulling himself out of his alcoholism to be a better person for himself and his wife. "I didn't like such establishments even when I did drink." They were too loud, too rowdy and rather expensive.

Watching the crestfallen Seeker, Jellal flicked his ears back and scowled. "Why do you even want me to join? You always say I am boring and not in the last bit fun." Granted he knew most of those comments were just to tease but it still begged the question of why out of all people his cousin could choose, she came to him.

Vassyl fiddled with her hair and frowned. "I dunno... I just figured it might be fun. Unless Iaella drags you out or you're on a job, you hold up in the workshop all day." For a moment he simply stared at the blonde woman before it all sank in.

"You're worried about me, aren't you?" Trying his best to soften his gruff tone, Jellal started to put some tools away. "If you want to check in or spend time with me, you can just ask, you know that, right?" He raised a brow, pausing to watch her expression, and as it changed, the Seeker knew he was right. Inviting him out was simply her attempt to check in on him and ensure he wasn't in a depressive spiral, she was just going about it in her own way. Granted, he hadn't had another spiral in a bit, but it was around that time of year when his brother was killed and it occurred to Jellal that those around him had been particularly attentive the last few days, especially his wife Iaella.

Fiddling some more, Vassyl frowned and lowered her ears. "I mean... We're family, worrying about each other is normal. Mom and Dad worry about you too sometimes. You haven't visited in a while." She couldn't bring herself to mention the anniversary of Seyrin's death, but both knew that was the root of this. A moment of silence passed between the Miq'ote and as Jellal glanced up at her again, seeing the anxious Seeker with genuine concern on her face, he couldn't help but sigh and give in a little.

In the past, he probably would have just locked her out to wallow in his own self-pity, but through the support of those around him, the bitter and angry soldier had mellowed somewhat. That and his Monk of a wife could rip the doors off if he did decide to hide away again. It was both terrifying and very attractive all at once."

There was a bit of consideration, and finally, a compromise formed in his thoughts. "Okay... But! No bar, club, or loud venue. If you want to spend time with me, it needs to be something we can both tolerate." Loud drunk people were definitely off the table. He might very well shoot someone. Vassyl's face lit up as she was slowly chipping away at the icy walls he put up. "Okay, that's fair... Something we can do together..." Wracking her brain for an idea, the Seeker appeared to struggle, and he could almost imagine a little steam coming out of her ears.

"Try not to overwork that one brain cell... It's all you have left." Jellal got in a small jab, smirking for the first time since she arrived at his shop that afternoon. Puffing up her cheeks in protest, Vassyl huffed and pointed a finger at him much like how her mother would do to her when making a point. "You're so mean Jellybean." One of the many, many nicknames she gave the poor man purely out of amusement and entertainment at his expense. A noticeable twitch from the soldier confirmed her comment had hit the mark.

"Ah... Well... I did finish your custom motorcycle..." A silly little smirk on his face as she gasped, immediately distracted. "REALLY? Can I ride it???" The excitement in her tone caused Jellal to flatten his ears back at the high pitch of her voice. "I suppose so... But you were so set on going out to a bar... I don't know if you'll have time for both..." Jellal was definitely doing his best to avoid the original invitation, even if trying to teach her to ride such a machine would be just, if not more, stressful than babysitting her at a bar and keeping unpleasant people away. It was a compromise... Sort of.

A small sound akin to a huff or a whine would leave the woman's lips at his ultimatum, and she finally caved. "Okay, fine, no bar... But you have to actually teach me. Don't just yell from a safe distance... That's boring. So then it's a deal?" The comment would get a roll of his eyes, but he was a man of his word.

"Fine, it's a deal."

[unlimitedhorsepower]

my thoughts on t&b2 cour2 summarized ngl

huge massive spoilers under the cut:

(following is half copied from me telling this to people who dont know t&b lore)

im genuinely inconsolable over yuri and what happened to him.

its not even that he could or should be saved but he truly deserved something better. killing people... who cares... on-screen his murders have notably included a serial rapist for example which isnt said ig but it was a guy who only kills women he picks up at a club etc...

killing your abusive father and then going on to kill murderers and serial killers isnt a crime he had to pay for with his own life jesus christ. he was a victim in that. and i dont care hes killed people they had it coming and deserved to fucking explode.

and he dies so miserable and alone. and the truth about mr.legend didnt even come out. i guess it might, but it wasnt shown on-screen and i dont care. he never lived to see it. i cant believe it im actually just bawling.

his last scenes gratuitously consisted of his body being controlled by someone else, and before that happened his mother was shot to death. and he hallucinated his shit dad and the hallucination was like i can never be forgiven but youve followed your own sense of justice. goodbye.

yuri begged for the hallucination to not to leave him but even a hallucination of his shit dad couldnt stay to make him feel marginally better because he just didnt want to be alone.

so, alone and miserable, he bawled on the floor on top of the bloodstain where his mother was shot by the criminals who broke into his house.

and he told about his past to kotetsu&barnaby and kotetsu even himself acknowledged he said things yuri probably didnt want to hear. AND YEAH he was kind of a huge fucking dick i dont care what you had to say about mr.legend (he didnt defend him and condemned him but he was like ill definitely never be like him etc)

then in the end yuri stood alone, bleeding to death, after having given the rest of his strength to protect the protags of course, and they half-heartedly tried to convince him to come down from there. but the narrative had no kindness left for yuri whatsoever, only a dramatic moment of him breaking his mask while blood pooled around him.

so he just said hes following his own code of justice, and he earlier acknowledged its not the voice of thanatos he follows but his own voice. and then he pressed his hand on his chest and set himself on fire and jumped down.literally it was worse than if he had just died.

he burnt himself to death and literally enacted my metaphors about him being born from ashes (awful childhood, killing his father with fire) and returning to ashes once he has burned himself up. but it was literal.

and since his mother died... and only kotetsu and barnaby know his story... its so incredibly cruel and callous. he literally disappeared, like his life didnt matter, and he didnt even leave a body behind. mr.legend still has all those mythos around him, and what yuri got was to be a footnote in the line of judicial officials of sternbild and vigilantes killed in action.

im actually devastated. he never got a single piece of happiness.

one of his last interactions as yuri was kotetsu telling him that he will never become like mr.legend because he has a partner like barnaby.

how i understand his last actions is that yuri accepted hes fully alone, and will be alone, forever. he has nobody to support him like kotetsu has, and will never have it, hes too broken, too far gone.

and so, he had to die because there was no saving him. he killed himself for that, because he had no hope left. he thought he could never be forgiven, like his father could never be forgiven, but what yuri ever did was never in any way equal to being evil. to have him equated to anything mr.legend did (within the narrative) is unimaginably horrifying.

im like genuinely just crying i WISH i was joking saying that but im not. im trying to make it into a joke but i cant im just genuinely devastated.

like i know any depth i made up for ryan in my mind is my bad because i think about him way too hard but i was a little disappointed in his actions but thats whatever, my expectations were high since hes my favourite, right?

it wasnt even that bad, im just disappointed he mostly got to interact with karina which i really enjoy as well they have a funny dynamic, but i like him so im like oh! theres sooo much more to him hehe. but again, whatever, hes out there, i can imagine him doing whatever i want. he didnt contradict anything i think of him either.

but yuri... ohhh.... taking this very personally actually. i cant believe the narrative didnt give him any mercy. it was a choice they made, to have him burn up like that.

like have i somehow thought of yuri petrov way too hard?... im just devastated. he was a sympathetic character, i never have ever considered for a single moment he could DIE. and in that sort of way?

did i somehow misinterpret the entire scenario? i dont even know what i couldve misunderstood to make this better in my mind. he didnt die?.. he just uhm... went bungee jumping

like the rest of the cour i liked, there were a lot of fun parts. but i just...this is something i cant get over. it felt so incredibly cruel to him, because to me he has always been the victim.

and i thought... i dont know... that he deserved better. that he deserved to feel happiness, not die feeling thoroughly miserable and alone. i cant even reasonably focus on the parts with ryan even if hes my favourite character. i wish he had died too, for equality, idfc.

i wish LL audun had smashed his head like an egg and this was the last shot i saw of him.

everyone else can “die” and then be fine i guess uh maybe ill just choose to believe yuri somehow is fine despite losing all of his blood and burning up and falling from a great height then thats my choice. they didnt show me anything that contradicts it.

which also just reminds me nobody even remembered him after his death. i thought the last shot would have him with “true heroes” and ill be honest i was crying incredibly hard thinking about yuri but i didnt see any indication he was remembered by anyone in any way.

again, this is a deliberate choice taken by the narrative and just remains so heartless.

does anyone else agree or have some other sort of take on this?! was i simply distracted by the huge amounts of yuri petrov lore i made up in my mind so that i misunderstood half of the season and also didnt see a huge memorial set up for him or something at least.

?????

cant even enjoy anything else in the cour because of how much this bothers me. i would be glad if i just had hit my head and somehow saw a different series in my mind than what everyone else saw

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 22: A Path Chosen

See how sad Perrin is after being exposed to spoilers? In this reread, I spoil everything for the entire series, so if you don't wanna be sad like him you should probably go somewhere else. Frankly I'm sad because I'm so lazy I never want to do these, but what if the first time I don't is the first time some would-be blind reader comes waltzing in?

This chapter has the barren tree at night icon, a reflection of the fact that this particular subplot is not out of the woods yet. It is daytime though, so that's something!

In a small copse of trees, beneath a pile of cedar branches roughly cut in the dark, Perrin slept long after sunrise. It was the cedar needles, pricking him through his still-damp clothes, that finally pricked through his exhaustion as well.

I again have to mention that after night swimming through a river at the tail end of a long winter, Perrin should have hypothermia. As counterintuitive as it sounds, once your clothes get wet it is literally better to be naked if you're in the cold and don't have a source of heat. I guess being a Vietnam War vet doesn't prep you for all kinds of overland travel.

If wishes were wings, sheep would fly. That was what Mistress Luhhan always said.

It's always fun when fantasy stories come up with alternate aphorisms, so I'll share this one.

Abruptly he stepped into a little clearing under the hemlock—and stopped. Behind a small fire, Egwene crouched, her face grim, with a thick branch held like a club and her back against Bela’s flank.

Poor Egwene. She's had such a terrible night she's too delirious to realize that if she were about to be found by the Trollocs, she should already be running away. On the plus side, she's got herself something kind of like a weapon, which is more effort for her defense than Lan bothered with. I guess she and Nynaeve returned the daggers when they were in the city and didn't have a chance to get them back? Or maybe she lost hers.

Tossing her club down, she ran to throw her arms around him. “I thought you had drowned. You’re still wet. Here, sit by the fire and warm yourself. You lost your horse, didn’t you?”

I'm not an Egwene stan, but I'm far from a hater too, so I'd like to note that she's clearly genuinely concerned for Perrin's well-being and quickly trying to help him. She isn't always the best friend in the world (though most people in this setting aren't even trying to compete, probably because they know they don't stand a chance against Mat), but she's got her heart in the right place.

Her eyebrows rose, but he was used to surprise whenever he claimed an idea. Even when his ideas were as good as theirs, they always remembered how deliberate he was in thinking of them. 

Considering your idea is, "Let's go wandering into the unfamiliar wilderness and not even put in the smallest amount of effort into reuniting with the group," I'm going to say outright that this is not one of the times when your idea is as good as someone else's. Thank goodness you don't make this a habit or anything.

To his surprise, she nodded. “There must be villages. We can ask directions.”

This sentence, where Egwene tosses away all of her intelligence and better understanding of the outside world than Perrin (who admits in his internal narration that he never gave a crap about the map the other boys loved and that Egwene's dad had a better understanding of Andor's geography than said map) to go along with an utterly stupid plan whose logical outcome is starving to death in the wilderness, foreshadows both that Perrin is ta'veren and the horrifying effect he will have upon their hometown once he goes back to it.

“I’ll walk myself dry,” he said firmly, and began kicking dirt over the fire. If he was the leader, it was time to start leading. The wind from the river was picking up.

In Perrin's defense, it's clear from an extratextual perspective that his irrational decision making is based entirely in the fact that his brain is shutting down from the hypothermia he is actively succumbing to.

Short chapter today; I kinda thought about doing the next one but sadly I wasn't kidding about being lazy. See y'all next time for Perrin's further descent into madness!

[violet-rose-95]

I am Awake

The shadow of death is what lit a fire under Walt’s ass, because he was afraid of dying. He was afraid of passing on and leaving Skyler and his children penniless, and it awakened him from the nightmare of mundanity to which he was prisoner, where suburbia was his prison and being a high school chemistry teacher was his rock to break. When Jesse asked him why he was cooking meth, his response was “I am awake” was because, for him, death was just around the corner.

Up until recently, the shadow of death was just around the corner for me because I was genuinely suicidal. I thought I had lost my dad’s love. I was afraid of not having money, of having money, of not being medicated, of being TOO medicated, I was stressing every second I spent at work...

But the one thing I wasn’t scared of... was death.

I spent a lot of nights going to sleep and hoping I wouldn’t wake up in the morning, and I would count every time I woke up another defeat. Another day I have to try to overcome. Another week I have to get through. Another month of not quite having enough of what I need. Another year of disappointment.

I was done. 2022 seemed like a good run. I was getting ready to join the 27 club. I was counting the days until I was ready to pull the trigger. The shadow of death was my prison, and being forced back in the closet was my rock to break...

So I wasn’t afraid of it. I was ready to welcome death like an old friend.

And then my dad changed. And then he accepted me.

And suddenly... death was so much farther off. Suddenly I had free days. Weeks. Suddenly I started thinking about years down the line. Suddenly I wanted to watch Breaking Bad again. Suddenly I wanted to commit to a show and get invested in something again. Suddenly I wanted to rush down to Walmart and buy a whiteboard and start outlining a pilot for my series based on the structure used in Breaking Bad.

Because my dad loves me again. I have my dad back.

...huh... so this is what it feels like.

To be awake.

[charmixpower]

How will you rank Winx Club's parents?

Uhhhh I've only gotten to s4 so I haven't seen all their parents but I'll try

Ok then

Parents ranking:

Mike and Vanessa: good parents just trying their best!!! They get the number one spot!! They're tight on cash but they do their best to get Bloom stuff she likes and they're involved enough to go to her school to see if everything is safe for Bloom

Musa's mother: Very good mom. Musa seems to adore everything about her and she left amazing life lessons. When we see the... ghost??? Of her in s3 she does the right thing and over all seems like an amazing mom. We don't see much of her tho

Klaus: good dude, seems like a good single dad

Oritel and Marion: I mean they raised Daphne so they have got to be doing something right? We've barely seen them so no opnion here. They're nice and want to get involved with Bloom to make up for missing time

Timmy's parents: they're probably nice enough people as Timmy seems fine and well adjusted

Helia's parents: their probably also normal enough

Flora's parents: I think they're nice enough people. Flora seems to semi act like Miele's mom so I'm guessing theirs some oldest daughter syndrome going on here, but tbh I think that's more form something happening and Flora parents being unable to help Flora and Miele instead of just being neglectful since Flora never shows signs of abandonment issues

Tecna's parents: who do you think got Tecna into the habit of repressing her emotions?

Musa's father post mother's death: Dude seemed to genuinely scare Musa as a child with smashing shit right after Musa's mom died and was willing to sabotage Musa's education because she got to perform a concert while still working towards a lucrative job. But he seems to be close with Musa and hes willing to change and was genuinely just trying to help. Good intentions horrible execution. He goes here I guess ???

Brandon's parents: no thoughts head empty. Brandon's whole job is to be Sky's body double because Sky has assassins on him, and their in highschool. Which means that Brandon's parents sent him away to theoretically get killed in place of Sky at 15. But like?? Brandon could of been taken away forcefully, or his parents could of been clouded by propaganda and not really concider the fact that Brandon is there to die in place of Sky. Or! They thought that it was super unlikely that he'd get killed and wanted Brandon go get ahead by getting in with royalty and getting the benefits of their money. I really really want to see them and have the explain why they sent Brandon away to the castle in the first place knowing that he could die so young

Morgana: she just didn't tell Roxy their related till the last second huh?

Nabu's parents: Neglectful as Nabu was raised by his security team

Radius and Luna: Very emotionally neglectful. Stella was, according to her, raised by maids, and Radius used Stella's ball to announce his wedding!! Luna didn't even show up!! I can believe that Radius actually cares but is very emotionally oblivious and should of never had a child (it's clear that he cares but doesn't understand how having a kid works in s3 which explains but doesn't make anything he does any better), plus Cassandra manipulating him, but Luna is not there like at all. At least Radius makes a half hearted effort

Teredor and Niobe: So pressuring and expectant that Aisha ran away. I also think they were emotionally cold towards Aisha as she clearly has a craving for personal bonds that it's implied that she never got outside of Anne. Aisha's needs were completely ignored or banned. That's some horrible parenting

Samara and Erendor: these two do not care about anyone, genuinely. They seem to see Sky more as a pawn than their son and I'm pretty sure they were willing to let Diaspro die. They didn't even notice their own son was under mindcontrol....these two creep me out and just seem like they'd be actually evil behind closed doors

Whom ever the FUCK raised the Trix to be like that: fuck em

Riven's parents: we haven't seen them but fuck thoese guys in perticualr. Riven in s1 was 16, and teenagers tend to base their world view off of what they learn from their parents. Seeing how Riven's mother abandoned him, I'm imagining that Riven's dad is just a way worst version of s1 Riven bc he had to pick up those opnions from somewhere and that's normally how it happens. You cannot convince me that Riven's weird attachment to his masculinity wasn't caused by someone constantly bothering him about it

Uhh that's my opinion I guess? This list feels very nonsensical and I apologize for that

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 317: My Boy Was Just Like Me

Previously on BnHA: AFO randomly blew up Lady Nagant as a good reminder of why you should never make a deal with this fucking guy, smdh. Hawks was all “well if it isn’t my two best friends, Deku and Lady Nagant, both of whom I respect and love tremendously.” Everyone was all “??” and Horikoshi was all “shh... just pretend” because it was too embarrassing for him to admit that he forgot to write a couple of set-up flashbacks I guess. Anyway so Hawks got Lady to tell them where AFO was hiding out, and everyone said goodbye to her and Overhaul, who never did get to see his boss (sorry buddy, I’ll send you a vial of my tears in the mail), and headed out to a house in the woods. AFO was all “hello Deku :) :) it sure is fun making you suffer :) :) :) anyways this is a trap”, and blew up the house. Yeah, we all here are getting reaaaaaaaal tired of your shit, AFO.

Today on BnHA: The Hawksquad and Edgeplatoon meet in a warehouse and are all “what should we do about the fact that everything sucks?” Mt. Lady is all “here’s a thought, what if we tried battling AFO with more than six people.” Hawks and Endeavor are all “great initiative, but just a friendly reminder that our friends also suck and would probably betray Deku which would suck further still.” Shouto is all “ANSWER THE PHONE DAD” and Endeavor is all “[IRONICALLY DOESN’T ANSWER THE PHONE].” Meanwhile over in Sadtown, capital of Sadland Prefecture, Japan, Deku is all “All Might, as you can clearly see I am completely fine and good, never been better in fact, definitely not caught up in the throes of an epic mental breakdown which is shutting me down emotionally, anyway so on that note I would like to leave you now goodbye!!” All Might is all “[can’t actually form any words because he’s too distraught].” Fandom is all “o(╥﹏╥)o.” Horikoshi is all “(*＾-’) 乃 [pew pew finger guns and barrel rolls into the darkness].”

sweet jesus lord

this literally doesn’t even look like Deku anymore?? this looks like Dark!Deku who shows up to fight you in that one room in the Water Temple. he looks like he’s about to crawl out of my television set and murder me with his psychic powers good lord

holy shit lmao Horikoshi is really just shrugging his shoulders and resolving last week’s cliffhanger with a single line of dialogue

fire is no one’s weakness. idk what other options you’ve got, AFO, but you’re gonna have to go back to the drawing board. maybe try bees or something. I’m just saying. we’re all expecting fire at this point but nobody is expecting bees

anyway so now they’re all sitting in some warehouse somewhere chatting about it I guess. shoutout to Horikoshi for finally giving my man Edgeshot some more dialogue at long last

well, Edgeshot, to answer your question, she exploded. so naturally she’s fine

nah just kidding, Hawks says she won’t be able to help them out much because she’s recovering from being exploded. this is the part where we all ignore the fact that Hawks got set on fire for like a full ten minutes back during the War arc and was only in the hospital for a day. anyways enjoy your temporary plot hiatus Nagant

man there’s a lot of dialogue here and I’m trying to figure out where to insert commentary but it’s kinda difficult lol. basically, Edge and the others are saying that they should gather up the other remaining heroes and get them all caught up on the whole OFA situation. which, hmmmm

like on the one hand, these guys definitely aren’t going to cut it on their own, so it’s a reasonable suggestion on the face of it. but on the other hand, do we really want to entrust the OFA secret to a bunch of other people, most of whom shat the bed during the War arc to be quite frank? is it really worth the additional risk? especially given that any one of them might go spilling the beans to the public -- or worse, betray them to AFO??

also just a quick side note here, Mt. Lady’s character development never ceases to delight me. she’s become so committed to her responsibility as a hero these days, and it fucking suits her. I genuinely consider to be one of the elites now. I mean it doesn’t hurt that all the other elites are fucking dead lol but still

wait what? Death Arms retired??

Death Arms as in the guy who was too afraid of a little fire to try and save a terrified 14-year-old kid who was slowly suffocating right before his eyes?? that Death Arms???? color me surprised. shocked, I tell you

...okay but holy fuck

Death Arms. bro. my expectations for you were low but holy shit. like I’m sorry, but I don’t even have it in me to try and pretend like I feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him or Old Man Samurai or any of those other guys today. thanks for a whole lot of nothing my dude. good riddance

(ETA: so I’m rereading this the next day and realize this comes off as kind of harsh, so let me just try to clarify. it’s not the fact that he’s quitting that bothers me, to be honest. it’s the fact that he’s quitting specifically because he feels like the public is being mean to him. that’s it.

seriously. it would be one thing if he was quitting because he was scared, because now that is human. nobody wants to die, and I doubt any amount of training can ever fully prepare someone to go up against that fear. but the thing is, he never once mentions that, or talks about the danger aspect. instead, I got the distinct vibe from this speech that Death Arms is one of those people who only became a hero because of the limelight. and I just don’t have any patience for that. if all you care about are likes and subscribes then go become a fucking youtuber or some shit. nothing wrong with that! but you didn’t; you signed up to be a hero and protect these people. they gave you their respect and admiration because they trusted you to protect them. and now that they’re no longer in the mood to worship and applaud your every move on account of them being scared shitless because they’re living in the literal end times, you decide to dip. so like okay, fine then. don’t let the door hit you on the way out. anyways lol sorry for the rant.)

anyway so yeah. perfect example of why I don’t exactly have a ton of faith in most of the remaining heroes out there lol. also let me just once again give a shoutout to my best girl Mt. Lady whom I suddenly find myself appreciating all the more

“please calm down makeste. drink some water and enjoy this fresh new jeans pun” listen Horikoshi don’t tell me what to do dammit

fine. it is a nice pun, I guess

-- damn so now Endeavor’s saying that the media is already being fed info by the retired heroes. so for some of these guys it wasn’t enough for them to abandon all the people they swore to protect and to leave their fellow heroes out in the cold; they decided they might as well actively make things worse for them while they were at it, huh. like I get wanting to spill all the dirty secrets from your old job that you just quit, but this isn’t Jeff Bezos you’re screwing over, this is a sixteen-year-old kid

-- like, yes!! this, right here!!

exactly!! let’s not forget that there are already two prior instances of this happening. Endeavor arguably deserved it, but Katsuki not so much

huh. Endeavor seems to have a more optimistic outlook regarding this than I do lol

I mean, this is the same public that didn’t hesitant to blame a kidnapped child for his own kidnapping, and then later on for being the downfall of the Symbol of Peace. but okay then

anyway so blah blah blah, more talk about how they need to use Deku as bait, which basically puts them back at square one, and then they’re all just trailing off into silence and sitting around in the dark lmao this is getting very depressing

SKDJFLSDKJ:LFKJ

SHOUTO?????

NOOOOOOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME

OH HOW THE TURNTABLES OMG. THE GHOSTER HAS BECOME THE GHOSTEE. Endeavor you petty son of a bitch. and what a brutal cut to that flashback too. “let’s stop Touya together” nah Shouto I’ve got a better idea why don’t I abandon you in U.A. and sally off with Hawks and Jeanist to found the “let’s pretend like we’re doing something to help Deku” club, which basically consists of us sitting around making terrible decisions all day long

Shouto, honey. you deserve better my little Coca Cola can. .........but if you really do have something important you need to tell your dad you could just text it to him. all the love and support, hugs and kisses, you’re doing amazing sweetie. but if you need to pass on any vital information you can just write it down and hit send honey that’s all I’m saying love

now he’s getting another call?? -- or, no, Hawks is getting a call from All Might

ARE YOU FOR REAL HAWKS OMFG

so while you all were sitting around talking about how useless you are, the kid you’re supposed to be protecting was battling another hired gun. I see. please pardon me for one second, I have a phone call to make. the phone call is to RockLockRock and Manual. the reason for the call is to apologize for calling them the worst bodyguards ever back during the War arc. the reason for the apology is because it turns out I WAS SEVERELY MISTAKEN OMFG

JESUS CHRIST DEKU DID YOU JUST KILL THIS MAN LMAO

shoutout to Horikoshi for offscreening this fight. we get it, lol. Deku strong and scary, villains ineffectual and feeble, and AFO... [checks notes] yep, still a dick. the angst arc continues

-- the angst arc continues, SIR

jesus christ I may have to rethink all of my opinions about Deku being framed for murder in movie 3 lmao. never mind. he did it, your honor

holy fucking shit Deku. “he might blow up, so please be careful” fdlskjflk jlskdjflk lwkejflk anyway so I’ve decided the explosion running gag can stay, actually

DEKU WAIT YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH!!

lol why do I get the feeling some serious shit is about to go down. ALL MIGHT NEVER MIND BACK OFF I THINK HE NEEDS HIS SPACE

OH MY FUCK I GASPED OUT LOUD

NO NO NO. I KNEW THIS WAS COMING GODDAMMIT BUT NO. NEVER MIND, I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT IT, I’M NOT READY TO CRY TODAY

shit. shit shit shit shit and OF COURSE all I can fucking think about is that stupid fucking prophecy and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Deku please. please please please if you really are going to leave All Might here, please be so very careful in choosing your farewell words to him now because have this sudden horrible fear that this might be the last time you ever see him alive and oh god. oh god oh god

DEKU NO, YOU’RE REALLY NOT!?!?

I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE LESS FINE IN MY LIFE, ACTUALLY????

holy shit. and the fucking callback to the prophecy now. just in case we forgot. WHICH FYI, WE DIDN’T. but that’s basically confirming that this is all still very much on the table and HORIKOSHI NEVER FORGETS oh my god someone please hold me

and the fact that Deku’s flashing back to it now too, though?? because he never forgot either, because of course he didn’t, and now all this stuff is happening, and AFO’s words are getting to him, and this is literally his worst fear come to life and so of course he’s distancing himself from everyone, and now it’s finally come to even this. even the person he admires most

-- OKAY NO, FUCKING COME ON ALREADY I CAN’T TAKE THIS

I GET IT OH MY GOD, I ALREADY UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT OF THIS MOMENT WITHOUT ALL OF THE DEVASTATING FLASHBACKS THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!! YOU ACTUALLY DO WANT ME TO CRY, HUH, IS THAT IT. THIS MAN THAT HE THINKS OF AS A FATHER, THIS MAN WHO HAS BEEN EVERYTHING TO HIM SINCE HE WAS A VERY YOUNG CHILD. EVERYTHING THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH, JUXTAPOSED AGAINST EVERYTHING DEKU IS UP AGAINST, EVERYTHING THAT’S AT RISK. LET’S JUST PUT IT ALL SIDE BY SIDE. LET’S JUST PILE ON ALL OF THE FEELS

(ETA: just a quick note that even though some of the posts I’ve read have described these as All Might’s flashbacks, I’m pretty sure they are Deku’s. most of these are scenes that only he was there for, so yeah. even though All Might is the one thinking the thoughts on the next page, the flashbacks are what’s running through Deku’s mind right now, and so we’re getting that emotion from both of them, which makes it extra devastating lol.)

wait, what???

WHAT??? do you really think that’s why he’s been so determined to protect you this entire time?? simply because you’re his successor?

-- oh no wait lol I think I got that mixed up, this is All Might saying that Deku feels the need to protect him. well that makes more sense lol

oh my god I cannot

his last words. his last words to him. and we can’t even see if he is smiling, like All Might always encouraged him to do. but what are the odds he can’t actually bring himself to do it. what are the odds he’s actually crying. oh god this scene is going to rip my heart out and STOMP on it in the anime isn’t it. Deku’s VA is going to full on murder me with emotion. not that there’ll be much of me left to murder after the thorough job that Horikoshi has already done here

YOU’RE CRYING. DEKU IS LEAVING ALL MIGHT AND IGNORING HIS OUTSTRETCHED HAND AND YOU’RE CRYING. AND BY “YOU” I MEAN “ME”, FUCK

nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope no words just feels just a big ol’ pile of feels. I do not have the strength. future me... [broadly gestures] good luck with all that

(ETA: LOL, WELL THEN.

what breaks my heart here is All Might. All Might, and everything he’s been through, and history repeating itself, and forcing him to live this moment from both sides because he wasn’t strong enough to fix things.

Toshinori had only just turned eighteen when Nana died. like, I feel like we don’t mention this enough. the All Might we know is a sixty-something-year-old man, and so everyone always talks about him like he’s basically been an adult forever. but he was a child when he met Nana. and he was still just a child when she died. barely a year older than Deku is now. younger than Mirio was when we first met him.

and we don’t talk about that. we don’t talk about how devastating that was for him. and we don’t talk about how the reason he grew up to become so reserved and withdrawn -- for all that he always tried so hard to outwardly project the image of a bold, confident, smiling hero -- was specifically because of what AFO did to him. because AFO targeted him in the exact way that he is now targeting Deku. because that’s what he does. he goes after every new user of OFA, and he finds out what’s most important to them, and then he destroys it. and for Toshinori, that was Nana. if you’ve read All Might Rising, you know that AFO basically killed her in front of him (and only killed her, while letting Toshinori and Gran get away). Toshinori (while crying) later says she was like a mother to him. and interestingly enough, during this same conversation, Gran tells Toshinori that he can see “that madness in [his] eyes” when Toshi talks about becoming strong enough to defeat AFO. madness in his eyes. sound familiar??

what’s happening to Deku now is the exact same thing that happened to Toshinori when he was a boy. AFO tried every bit as hard to break him as he’s trying with Deku now. “the path you’ve chosen is a thorny one. every battle grinds away at your soul with no end in sight.” we don’t talk about how Toshinori experienced this same thing for forty fucking years. and all the while isolating himself, exactly like Deku is doing now. pushing people away, exactly like Deku. because he never had anyone who was able to reach out and pull him back. and those words that he now finds himself frozen and unable to speak -- “don’t push yourself”; “you can rest” -- are the same words that no one ever said to him until decades later, when it was already far too late to make any difference.

everything that Deku is experiencing now is what Toshinori also went through. and it’s only now, as he watches it happen to his student, the boy he loves like a son, that he’s finally starting to realize the full extent of how wrong it was. you shouldn’t have to fight alone. you shouldn’t have to bear that kind of enormous burden alone. you shouldn’t have to push yourself, and you can rest. you can rest.

but it’s too late. just as he’s finally coming to understand it all, it’s all too fucking late. and he can’t say the words, he doesn’t know how to say the words, and then just like that, Deku is gone.

and he’s alone. again.)

I can’t. this can’t be their goodbye. I’m not ready. for this to be how they finally part, and then they never see each other again except in OFA. how is that fair. how is that fair. how is that fair

fuck me. lol. how many pages are left in this thing. let’s just wrap this up lol. so now of all the times for this fucking guy to finally show up

I can’t believe Stain has been here literally this entire time hiding behind this random wall and cutting onions. that was you who was cutting the onions, right. no need to answer that we’ll just say it was

HORIKOSHI JUST END THE CHAPTER PLEASE I’M OUT OF SPOONS. YOU HURT ME SO GOOD AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT BUT YOU NEED TO LET ME GO NOW SO I CAN BEGIN THE PROCESS OF TRYING TO PUT MY LIFE BACK IN ORDER HERE. SO WHERE ARE WE CUTTING TO NOW WHAT IS HAPPENING

Stain did you also let AFO give you a new quirk. what’s with you guys. do you like blowing up

oh nvm lol because they were talking about THIS GUY ohhhhhh my fucking god

THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S SAD, LINDA!! jesus

omfg. and so yes, good, the chapter is ending here now on page 15. for once I am FULLY on board with that lmao

anyway so tune in next week for more adventures of Werewolf Deku!! that is, assuming we don’t finally cut back to U.A. at long last, which is actually a strong possibility considering that this chapter will likely mark the end of volume 31. it sure wouldn’t kill Horikoshi to start giving us some hope after everything he’s just put us through lol. KACCHAN COME GET YA BOY

[frattsparty]

My Heart Needed You

AN: I've had this crazy story in my head for MONTHS, so I finally decided to sit down and get it started. This will be a multi-chapter with a lot of angst, backstory, fluff, just all of it.

This is my first Fic, I hope you love it. Would love feedback :) Special thank you to @lexondeck for proofing and providing some much needed support!

You never thought when you left Southern California all those years ago that you would be back, but you also never expected to become so close to your half brother and his club, only to lose him.

But here you are, back home. Home. That doesn’t even sound right anymore. You left here broken, hurting, full of shame and guilt.

While your time in Charming ended in heartbreak, you were glad that you got to know Jax. You didn’t have the chance to know your biological dad, JT, but getting to know Jax helped you feel close to that part of you.

Thankfully, for your trip home you had Marcus by your side. Jax had asked him to look out for you, be an uncle so to speak. Marcus has always been supportive, someone who you knew you could trust. When Miguel called with a job offer, you knew it was time to go. Staying in Charming without Jax and his mom, Gemma, was too hard. So here you were side-by-side with Marcus as you walk into the Santo Padre Clubhouse to get to know the Mayans club Miguel needs your help with. You knew it was Marcus’ primo who runs this charter so you felt like you were in good hands. “Primo!” “El Padrino!” You heard from everyone as you walked into the Clubhouse. Man hugs, handshakes, all around.

Quickly, all eyes were on you, and your typical confidence was faltering as you clasped your hands in front of you looking around the room. Taking in the smell, you noticed the Virgin Mary statue, and shockingly, this felt…safe. It was different from the Sons clubhouse, in Charming, but you had a feeling this would be a place you could just be yourself at.

“I’m Bishop,” you heard, snapping you from your thoughts. The man looking at you may have been shorter than most in the room, but he commanded respect, in his face you could see kindness. You stretched your hand out, his larger one took your smaller one.

“It’s nice to meet you Bishop, I’m Hailey. Hailey Teller. I'm the new attorney for the Galindo's, and will be the liaison for you to him.”

Eyes were quickly shooting around the room, and you knew they were all looking at you with surprise and a little pity. Quickly Hank and Taza introduced themselves to you, and you have to admit you loved them all instantly. The prospect, you didn’t catch his name, brought you a drink, everyone left, leaving you, Bishop, Hank, and Marcus to chat…and drink.

Miguel’s men were on the way to pick you up to take you to his home, where you planned to stay until you found a suitable home. You were just crossing your fingers, hoping Miguel would keep his promise and not let him pick you up.

Alcohol and your current state of mind didn’t go hand in hand, and soon your emotions were on the verge of boiling over and Marcus could see it.

You were tipped over the edge by the simple question about how Jax's boys were doing. Your nephews, you loved those boys and if you’re honest you wished you could have brought them with you. However, Jax was specific about Wendi getting the boys and keeping them away from this life, a life you are throwing yourself into, again.

You couldn’t stop the tears, you quickly wiped away at them but it was no use. Bishop grabbed your hand, rubbing the back of your hand in a soothing manner, trying to calm and comfort you as best as he could. “We’re sorry sweetheart, we didn’t mean to upset you.” Bishop's voice was raspy, yet calming.

“It’s okay, I’m still…struggling with this … and with everything Jax put in my hands before his death.” You sighed, trying to get yourself together.

“What do you mean?” Hank asked, a look of genuine concern on his face.

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath, still not completely in control of your emotions.

“When he decided he was going to make a deal to save the club and Tara, he had me handle all the paperwork for his kids custody, SAMCRO’s businesses, Teller-Morrow, all of it.”

You paused trying to keep yourself composed, “When Tara was killed, I found her with Jax.” My hands were fidgeting in my lap. “I handled her funeral, stepped up with Gemma for the boys, and tried to get Jax out of jail.” Scuffing, “If only I would have known then what only Gemma and Juice knew.”

All of them were focused on you, not pushing but just showing that they were there for you.

You continued, “Once Jax had a plan, he had me get all of the legal documentation ready for ownership transfers, custody, setting up savings for the boys, and pretty much his death.”

“I knew why he did it…but I just wish he didn’t make me the planner.” You looked up and gave them a sad smile as tears streamed down your face.

In all that time, you didn’t hear Miguel’s SUV pull up. You turned just as the door opened in walked Miguel. Even through the tears a smile formed on your face, you jumped up to give Miguel a hug. He held you tight and it took everything in you to keep your emotions in check.

When you pulled away and looked up, you felt his eyes on you before you saw him. You looked around Miguel and there he was, “Nes,” you whispered. The tears starting all over again.

“Hey, Hails,” he whispered as he took a few steps towards you. In that moment your lost all control of your body and ran to him. He engulfed you in his arms, you sobbed into the crook of his neck, no doubt soaking his shirt. He was rubbing his hand up and down your back, the other holding your head to him.

You never thought you would be held by these arms again, but right now, you were just grateful that he didn’t turn his back on you like you did to him.

Your emotions were uncontrollable so Bishop suggested that Nestor take you into one of the back rooms so you could be alone and calm down.

Nestor grabbed you behind your thighs, lifting you up. Your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. Your brain wasn’t working, clearly, because you would not be doing this under normal circumstances.

Out in the Clubhouse the Santo Padre men were confused, as they looked to Marcus and Miguel for answers.

Miguel cleared his throat, “Their moms were best friends, they’ve known each other since birth. They weren’t just high school sweethearts, they were kindergarten sweethearts.” He stopped, shrugging a little, “They were engaged when he went away to the Navy. Hailey was finishing law school, when he came home, she had all of her things packed, and greeted him in tears as she handed the ring back and left.”

Wiping his face he finishes, “We never knew why she left, her parents didn’t have many answers other than she said it was her fault. None of us have heard much from her since. When I found out about her brother from her dad, well step-dad, I knew she needed to come home.”

Back in the dorm room Nestor is holding on to you, you want to speak but your hiccuping and tears are preventing you from saying much. All you could muster was a simple “I’m sorry.” You weren’t even sure if Nestor heard you, but he squeezed you tighter letting your know he did.

You weren’t sure how this new job was going to work. He was going to expect answers. But the answers would devastate him and you weren’t ready to share.

[pynkhues]

Hey :) I have these headcanons that all of the golden trio had these passions and talents when they were kids that just went completely un-nurtured by their parents. Like, Ken was really into music and singing, Rome was a writer, really creative stuff. But they got kind of pummelled into business by their dad. And Shiv was into politics, loved it, and Logan’s neglect due to her being a girl is what allowed her to run with it into a career. Am I crazy? I guess this is a long way of saying, hey, I headcanon Ken still knows piano but would never dare admit it. What do you think their passions were?

Hey! Oh gosh, that's so cute, anon, I don't think you're crazy at all. I love the way the show touches on these genuine interests for all of them and then how easily they get swallowed, crushed or redirected by their father.

I was actually thinking about something along the same lines the other day with Connor and about how his mother ran the dance charity, and about what that means in terms of him being so encouraging of Willa's playwrighting. I like to think that maybe Connor's experiences and interests were shaped by both parents and are his way of connecting with them. It makes me thinks that his desire to change his mother's charity and move it away from the arts in s1 was about him trying to appeal to his father's nature and reject his mother to appease him, but his connection to his mum sort of spilt out in this way of encouraging Willa's creative work (even if it's bad, haha). Alan's said that he thinks Connor probably tried going to art school for a bit too which I love and kind of like to headcanon as maybe a trauma response after her death too.

As for the golden trio, I spoke a little bit about their hobbies in this post, but I'm especially loving your headcanon about Kendall being able to play the piano! I love the thought too that Shiv can play but doesn't like it at all? The parallels between Kendall and Shiv are some of my favourites on the show, and I love this idea of Caroline and Logan both wanting Shiv to learn how to play because that's what girls do, and her hating it but being forced into lessons for years and years while Kendall desperately wanted to learn but Logan wouldn't ever let him, because to him, it's a bit 'fruity'.

I like politics as a passion for Shiv, but I also like reading, which I talked about in my other post, and I think maybe something like debate? I can see her being in model UN and debate club in highschool before she realised that her dad would never come and see her thrive in either and so she sunk all her energy into horse riding and dressage and showjumping, because at least that was something her dad thought was appropriate (and liked the class connotations of).

And Roman I think is a natural born storyteller from the way that he lies so easily, hahaha. In a lot of ways I think maybe he had more opportunities to explore his passions at boarding school (especially since St Andrew's was no longer a military school when Roman would've gone there, although it was still very outdoorsy) and away from his father's constant influence, but I imagined that would've made the transition back to home during the holidays even harder. All freedoms were probably crushed in ways more brutal than Kendall and Shiv felt, because they never really left their place under their father's thumb, at least not until college. Given the camping and the fishing, and the fact that St. Andrews is such an outdoorsy school, I actually kind of like the thought that Roman likes being outside and that it's one of the things that was squashed?

On paper, it's the sort of 'masculine interest' that would appeal to Logan, but I think Logan has his own issues with that sort of thing because of Ewan, and I can see him projecting anger and the rejection of that onto Roman. I don't know though! What do you guys think?

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Harry Potter Tom Riddle Master Post

Voldemort

The Blitz Paved the Road to Voldemort

Voldemort Resurrected Without a Penis

Voldemort is a Persona that Tom Riddle Dons

If I Was Called Voldemort I’d Be Embarrassed Too

Why the Dark Mark Makes Sense

Was Voldemort Born From Tom Riddle’s Rage Or Was He Once More Optimistic?

Was Voldemort Buried?

What Would Happen if Voldemort Won? (Tom Embraces Misery)

How Does Tom Pronounce Voldemort?

How Does Everyone Else Pronounce Voldemort? (They Generally Don’t, Nobody Says It)

Were Quirrell and Voldemort Friends Who Did Cutsey Things Together?

What About Bellatrix and Voldemort?

Voldemort vs. Grindelwald

What Would Tom Do if a New Faction Involved Itself?

Did Tom Use the Imperius Curse on Death Eaters?

Why Does Voldemort’s Voice Sound Different than Tom Riddle’s?

Voldemort vs. Shadow the Hedgehog

Oh Yeah? Well, If He Didn’t Look Like a Snake Prior to 1981, How Would People Recognize Him? How About That? Explain That!

Does Voldemort Even Look Like a Snake?

Voldemort Has No Confidantes and Okay, But What About His Creature Friends?

But What About the Murder of Charity?

Can Voldemort Feel His Horcruxes Getting Destroyed?

Tom Riddle

Tom Riddle Just Wants the Wizarding World to Burn

Tom Riddle’s Not Crazy

Tom Riddle is Suicidal and Eventually Killed Himself

Tom Riddle Tried Really Hard Not to Kill All the Hogwarts Children (No, Really, He Did)

We Have No Idea What Happened to Dennis and Amy

Tom Would Either Be a Great Father or a Terrible One

Why Am I So Obsessed With Tom Riddle?

Tom Riddle Didn’t Believe in Divination, But Then He Became Oedipus Rex’s Father

The Nature of Prophecies and Albus Dumbledore’s Mighty Suspicious

Tom Riddle is Literate

Tom Riddle Meta: The Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus Edition

Tom Probably Hates Wizards More Than He Hates Muggles

I Don’t Know Why I Love Tom Riddle Either

Tom Riddle is a Hopeless Romantic

Tom Riddle Genuinely Wanted the DADA Position

Why Did Borgin and Burkes Just Let Tom Riddle Disappear?

Yes, Technically Tom Riddle Missed the Blitz, However London Was Still Being Bombed, Still Evacuated, and The Headmaster Still Sent Him Back

The Chamber of Secrets and Tom Riddle’s Mental Breakdown

Tom Riddle and Religion

Tom Riddle and the Murder of Cedric Diggory

Why You Can’t Trust a Word Out of the Diary’s Mouth

Fan Cast of Tom Riddle

Tom Riddle’s Accent

Why Do I Think Tom is Bi? (I Just Do)

But is Tom Riddle Really Dead This Time?

Tom Riddle and the Interview from Hell

Tom’s Nonexistent Thoughts on Grindelwald

What Was the Diary Even Planning to Do Should He Have Won in the Chamber?

Tom and Albus Hate Each Other: They Always Will

Why Did Tom Choose the Potters?

Is it Hard to Make Horcruxes and is Tom a Moron?

Just How Crazy Are the Horcruxes?

Fanon Tom

Tom Has No Friends

Tom, Boggarts, Mirrors, and Patronuses

Tom Riddle the Student is a Persona Too

Would Tom Have Regretted Immortality?

How Does Tom Feel About Squibs?

How Would Tom Riddle See Edward Cullen?

Murdering His Paternal Line Was Also a Mental Breakdown

Could Tom and Luna Have Been Friends?

Did Tom Know Snape Was a Spy?

Would Tom Riddle Have Become a Twilight Vampire if Given the Choice?

How Does Tom Feel About the Damage and Deaths Caused by His War?

Tom Riddle’s Ideal Date

Is Tom Riddle Like Patrick Bateman from American Psycho?

Would Tom Riddle Join a Drama Club at Hogwarts?

Would Tom Riddle Make a Point of Killing Patrick Bateman?

Why Didn’t Tom Go to Work for the Goblins?

How Can Tom Want Both Immortality and Power?

No One Offered Tom a Place to Stay Over the Blitz/Tom Has No Friends

What Would Have to Happen for Tom to Reach Marcus Levels of Depression?

Did Tom and Walburga Black Ever Interact?

Was Tom Hot in 1981?

No, Looking Like a Snake in a Body He Made in Twenty Minutes in a Graveyard out of Pettigrew, Potter, and his Dead Dad Probably Wasn’t the Ideal Solution (It Wasn’t Even His First One, Guys, Remember the Stone?)

I Don’t Listen to the Diary’s Blathering

Voldemort Was Far from Inevitable

Tom Riddle, Why He Didn’t Become an Animagi, and What Form Would He Have

Did Tom Invent the Room of Requirement? Well, He Might Have

How Might an Adult Tom Already Voldemort Give it Up?

If Tom Ruled the Wizarding World it Would Become a Hellscape

Were Horcruxes All Tom Had and Could Harry Go Back in Time and Destroy All His Horcruxes?

If Tom Gives Up on Voldemort, He’s Just Leaving

JD from Heathers and Tom Riddle

Why Tom Riddle Might Have a Higher Degree

Personally, I Think Tom Was Fine with the Way He Looked, He Just Got Stuck in a Homonculus

Tom’s Slow, Awful, Revenge Against Slughorn

Did Tom Actually Care About the Prophecy? (Or, for a Guy Whose Mission is to Kill Harry Potter, He Sure Spends a Lot of Time Not Doing it)

Was Tom Friends with Anyone in the Orphanage? (We Really Don’t Know, No, We Really Don’t)

Tom After Borgin and Burke’s

Horcruxes in Order of Drama

Could the Diary Have Made His Own Body and What Would OG Voldemort Think of Him?

Would Tom Riddle Survive on Arrakis?

Would Tom Like Death of a Salesman?

Would Tom Have Done as Well if His Enemies Were Competent?

Tom Would Never Be Given a Time Turner in Hogwarts

No, Really, Dumbledore Always Hated Tom

Tom and the Trolley Problem

Does Tom Know How to Drive?

Tom’s Plan Post Graveyard (Had Harry Died)

Did Tom Enjoy Being Prefect?

Would the Diary Have Stayed in Hogwarts if it Had Successfully Taken Ginny’s Body?

Did Tom Go After Harry Because He’s a Half-blood? Dumbledore Thinks So But... We Don’t Know. Probably Not.

Tom is Not a Communist

How Long Did Tom work at Borgin and Burkes?

Would Tom and Percy be Friends?

No, Really, Tom Wasn’t Getting that DADA Job

Tom Probably Didn’t Meet His Dad: Trains and Morfin

Merope Gaunt and Tom Riddle Sr.

Merope Probably Had No Idea St. Mungos Existed

Merope is a Rapist

Dumbledore Admits to Making Up the Whole Fucking Story and Minor Details

Tom Riddle AUs

If Tom Riddle Had Access to Modern Therapy His Life Would Already Be 100 Times Better Than it Was

What if Tom Riddle Was a Woman?

Tom Riddle’s Hypothetical Fatherhood Journey

Tom Should Have Waited Sixty Years to Rise From the Dead and Save Himself a Lot of Trouble

Tom Riddle Raised by Tom Riddle Sr. Would Not Become Voldemort

What if Dumbledore Hadn’t Existed/Been Involved With Tom’s Life?

What if Tom Riddle Was Never Born?

What if Tom Was Stuck in a Time Loop?

What if Tom Riddle and Light Yagami or Tom Riddle and Edward Cullen Met in Hogwarts?

What if Tom Riddle Created Twilight Vampirism?

That Time I Married Tom Riddle in a Post (Or Anon Asks Me What Would Happen if I Reincarnated into Wool’s Orphanage)

What if I Was Reincarnated into Wool’s Without Magic?

What if I Was Tom Riddle?

What if Tom Riddle Was a God?

What if Tom Waited for Dumbledore to Die Before Voldemorting?

What if Tom Riddle and Harry Potter Were Soulmates in a Very Canon Universe?

Would Wizard Trotsky (From Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus) and Edward Cullen Get Along?

What If Tom Resurrected Hot?

What if the Tri-Wizard Tournament Happened While Tom Was in School?

What if Tom Knew Everything Harry Was Up to Through the Horcrux?

What if Upon Dying Tom Riddle Entered the Real World and Realized He was the Villain of a Children’s Series?

What Would Dumbledore Think of a Light Yagami Who is Friends with Tom Riddle?

What if Tom Riddle Was Friends with a Light Yagami Who Had a Kira Mindset?

What if L Went to Hogwarts with Tom Riddle?

What if Tom Had a Chance to Redo His Life?

What if Tom Had a Squib?

What if Tom Was Sorted into a Different House?

What if Tom Had Been Adopted by a Muggle Family?

What if Dumbledore Existed but Just Never Met Tom?

What if Tom Realized Harry was a Horcrux?

What if Tom Kidnapped Harry After Realizing He Was a Horcrux?

What if Tom’s Father Had Been the Wizard and His Mother the Muggle?

What if Tom Met a Young Dumbledore?

What if Lily Evans and Tom Riddle Went to School Together?

What if Tom Riddle and Patrick Bateman Interacted After Hogwarts?

What if Dippet Had Hired Tom Riddle as Professor?

But What if Tom Were Automagically Not Depressed?

What if Tom Riddle Isekaied into Bella Swan from Twilight’s Body?

What if Tom Riddle Was Born in the Marauder or Harry Potter Era?

What if Tom Riddle Went to Durmstrang?

What if Tom Riddle Isekaied into Death Note?

What if I was Sent Back in Time to Raise Tom Riddle?

What if Tom Realized Harry Was a Horcrux and Kidnapped Him?

What if Dumbledore Adopted Tom Riddle?

What if Tom Realized it Was the Resurrection Stone?

No, Tom Really Has No Use for the Resurrection Stone

What if Tom Had Gaunt as a Last Name Instead?

Tom Can’t Have a Younger Sibling in a Canon Adjacent Timeline, an Older Sibling is almost as impossible, and Half-Siblings Are Very Very Unlikely

What if Edward Cullen (from Twilight) Picked Up Tom Riddle’s Diary?

What if Merope Kept Using Love Potions?

What if Voldemort Wasn’t Real?

What if Light Yagami and Tom Riddle Were in the Saw Game with No Cheating?

What if Tom Riddle Was Turned into a Twilight Vampire?

What if Tom Was Beloved By the Gods?

What if Tom Was an X-Men Mutant?

What if Light Yagami Was a Pureblood and he and Tom Riddle were in School?