#if anyone knows the source please tell me so i can link back to it

[orangelemonart]

He's very happy

Reference under the cut

[sugrhigh]

ALL YOURS - ( roomie!matt pt 5 )

summary- you and your roommate matt have been sleeping together for a minute now, but neither one of you wants to ask the other what it means. feelings come to fruition one night at a party and the dynamics of your relationship change once again.

warnings- nsfw content ahead people so read at ur own risk, swearing, drug/alcohol use, dom!matt kinda, unprotected sex, it’s straight up smut at the end so fr don’t read it if u don’t want to!

roomie!matt x fem!reader

a/n: THIS IS TECHNICALLY PART 5 OF THE ROOMIE!MATT TEXT SERIES so if you haven’t read those you might be a bit confused. link to the master list is here.

strap in because it’s kinda long so i hope u guys love this final chapter as much as i do <3 inbox is always open xo

@sleepysturnss

rain patters against the windows mercilessly as the tv drones on, interrupted only by booming thunder every few minutes.

its late in the day now, and the cloud coverage makes it extra gloomy, even with interior lights on. not that this bothers you.

storms have always been a source of comfort in your eyes. something about them makes you feel safe, reminds you that the world is far bigger than whatever is worrying you.

“oh, i’ve been meaning to ask if you’re still seeing that guy. what’s his name again?” nick asks from beside you, scrolling mindlessly on his phone as he slumps against the couch.

you’ve been sitting like this for hours together, rotting in his living room while it continues to pour outside.

“it’s luke, and no, i’m not talking to him anymore.” you reply, trying to sound as casual as possible.

he looks up at you now, clearly a bit shocked to be hearing this. “please tell me it’s not because of my bitch ass brother.”

you bark out a laugh before you can stop yourself, mostly due to the fact that it’s absolutely because of matt. just not for the reason he thinks.

“as if. it was my decision, don’t worry.”

this is only half true. you did cut the poor guy off, but only because matt had essentially instructed you to do so before you guys had sex for the first time a month ago.

and then you hooked up again. and again. and a couple more times after that. neither of you could stop coming back for more apparently.

none of your friends know yet. as much as you want to be honest with them, you haven’t really talked about the details of this little situation. you’re almost positive matt hasn’t been seeing anyone else, but you also haven’t outright asked.

and there’s no use telling everyone about something that might not even be real.

“what made you do that? was the sex bad? is he an asshole?” nick interrogates further, clicking his phone off so his full attention is on you.

you can’t tell if he’s suspicious or if you’re just genuinely paranoid, but you don’t like this line of questioning either way.

“no he’s fine, he just wasn’t doing it. and his breath always smelled for some reason.” you’re lying through your teeth, but his face morphs into an expression of disgust like he’s buying it.

“ew, major turn off.”

“you’re telling me.”

nick sighs and snuggles further into the cushions, resting his head on your shoulder as he stares at the tv.

“well for what it’s worth, i’m sorry it didn’t work out. but who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone sexy at nathan’s tomorrow.” he says.

“yeah, maybe.” you feed into the hypothetical, even though you know that won’t be happening.

at least not if matt sturniolo has a say in it.

-

your music is playing softly over the speaker as you get ready, perched in front of your vanity like a doll. you’ve just finished your makeup when you hear a singular tap on the door.

“can you hurry it up in here?” matt calls as he pushes it open slightly.

you find it funny that he’s always sure to knock, ever since he walked in on you naked that fateful afternoon. even though you’re literally sleeping together now, he makes it a point to not invade your privacy.

“can’t rush perfection, matthew.” you taunt him as you put your palette and brushes back in their rightful place.

he moves further into your room, walking over to stand behind you. he’s dressed up in jeans and that black muscle tee you love so much, tattoos on display as his hands go to knead your shoulders lightly.

“you do look amazing.” he compliments.

“likewise.” you reply before meeting his searing gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

he increases his pressure slightly, digging his fingers into your neck in a steady pattern. you already know what he’s angling at and he hasn’t even spoken.

“you know, we could just stay home.” matt suggests with a smirk.

“c’mon, we can’t keep ditching our friends. they’re gonna get suspicious at some point.” you shake your head and stand up, because the massage is starting to feel a little too good.

“nobody cared when we left early last time.”

you cross your arms over your chest and turn to give him a pointed look. “because you convinced them that i was sick.”

“so i’ll just tell them a different lie.” he shrugs.

“oh my god, i am going to this party with or without you, so you better make up your mind before the uber gets here.” you say over your shoulder, headed out of your room toward the stairs.

“such a brat.” he grumbles, but you hear him following you regardless.

“only for you.”

two hours later you’re standing in the middle of nathan’s living room, dancing along with the typical crowd. nick and madi are on either side of you, both bopping around drunkenly to the beat.

you’ve had three shitty drinks at this point and your head feels a bit fuzzy. you’re positive your cheeks are flushed, which is actually kind of nice.

matt was with you minutes earlier, but he’s ventured off to get another drink. it’s selfish that you miss him every second he’s not around.

it’s just nice having him by your side. sure, it was kind of casual at first, and you didn’t think it was going to develop so quickly. but now whatever is going on between you means a whole lot more.

you like when he asks you to spend the night in his room, or when he saves the last can of redbull for you so you don’t go to work without caffeine. you like that he’s been replacing the flowers he got you every time they start die, the way he insists on driving you places even if it’s out of his way.

you just like him, and it’s more than casual. at least it is to you, and you can’t imagine that at this point he doesn’t feel the same.

but you don’t want to be the one to try and put a label on it. quite frankly, it scares the shit out of you, and you’re still not drunk enough to keep thinking about it in the middle of this party.

you see chris a few feet away against the wall, beer in his hand as he chats animatedly with nathan. you know he has what you’re looking for, so you shout that you’ll be back and head their direction.

they both smile at you as you approach, almost perfectly in sync.

“what’s up!” chris leans down a bit so you can hear him better.

“do you still have that joint you mentioned earlier?” you ask into his ear.

he nods happily, and nathan shoots you both a questioning glance. by the looks of his sleepy eyes, he’s probably already crossed.

“we’re going to smoke!” you fill him in, motioning toward the front door.

nathan nods and tells you he’ll stay back, so the two of you shuffle your way out of the living room, trying to avoid bumping into as many people as possible.

you pass the kitchen, and as your eyes scan the people you spot matt huddled in the corner. he’s talking to a very obviously enthusiastic girl, one that you don’t recognize. your stomach drops at the sight of them, and you hate it.

he doesn’t see you, so you turn your head and keep following behind chris. he’ll stop talking to her soon. he’ll probably even come looking for you instead.

right?

the crowd thins as out by the door, and the two of your step out into the fresh air moments later. the street is relatively quiet, and once the door is shut the noise of the party is muffled. there’s nobody else outside, and you’re grateful.

the other townhouses stare at you as chris crosses the short driveway so he can hide underneath the tree in the yard. you follow his lead, watching as he fishes the lighter and joint out of his front pocket.

“keeping it handy, huh?” you joke.

“you caught me at the right time, i just packed it upstairs.” he smiles before putting it between his lips.

the flame burns the end as he takes a hit, exhaling up toward the sky. you pass it back and forth in silence, both enjoying the momentary break from socialization.

chris clears his throat a minute later, nudging at the grass with his toe absentmindedly. “so, i have a question to ask you.”

he looks over so he can hand the joint back, and your hands shake ever so slightly as you reach out to take it.

“yeah?”

“i think matt is seeing someone. do you know anything about that?” he asks bluntly.

you try to remain calm as you shake your head at him, though it seems impossible. you aren’t prepared for this at all.

“uh, no?”

chris smiles just a little bit, like he’s already got you right where he wants you. “so he doesn’t bring anyone over? it’s just the two of you?”

your narrow your eyes at him. “just ask what you want to ask.”

“are you guys together?”

there it is. you were expecting it this time, and it still makes your stomach flip.

“no. i mean, kind of? we’re not like, dating. we’re just…uh…hooking up.” you’re trying so hard to figure out how to put it that it sounds horrible.

he just laughs. “no you’re not. that kid is in love with you.”

your jaw drops slightly in surprise, and this only makes chris chuckle harder.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you ask him once he finally calms down.

“i’ve seen how he’s acting lately. so fucking goofy, like he’s got his head in the clouds. he only ever gets all dopey like that when he really likes someone, and i kind of suspected it was you.”

it’s hard to find any words. there’s simply nothing on your brain, no coherent thought to be found. chris gives you a playful nudge.

“it’s okay, i won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to. but i think you feel the same.” he makes a guess, and he’s very accurate.

you look away as you take your final hit, trying to decide how you want to respond. you exhale the smoke and pass the remainder of the joint back to him.

“okay, you got me. i do want it to be like, a real relationship. and i’ll talk to him about it soon, i promise. just please don’t tell anyone until i do.” you plead.

he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug. you relax into him, and you have to admit you’re a bit relieved that at least somebody knows now.

“of course not. i’m here to support you both whenever you’re ready. everyone else will be too.”

“thank you. that makes me feel a lot better, seriously.” you say truthfully as he pulls away.

“good.” he nods in satisfaction, giving you a loopy grin.

“i’ve mooched enough, so i’m gonna go back inside, but thanks again. i owe you a blunt for the reality check.” you point a finger at him as you back up off of the grass.

“i’ll never turn that down.”

the high has taken over as you spin around to walk normally, and it’s nearly impossible to stop smiling. having confirmation that you’re not crazy for feeling the way that you do is wonderful.

you head back inside the house, almost positive that you’d find matt hanging out somewhere with your friends.

but as you pass the kitchen again, you spot him in the same place, leaned up against the end of the counter with a solo cup in hand. it seems like the girl is even closer than she was before.

your face falls immediately. it makes you angry that it’s been so long and he still hasn’t told her to get lost yet. if he wants to be all possessive over you, then you shouldn’t have to act so cool for him.

you’re certainly not feeling collected right now. and he deserves to know that.

you wedge your way around the people chatting and pouring themselves drinks without a second thought. matt sees you coming before you actually reach him, and he looks confused by your irritated expression.

you wrap your fingers around his arm wordlessly, right in the middle of the nameless girl’s sentence. he doesn’t put up a fight. in fact, he’s practically hot on your heels as you pull him back toward the hall.

“uh—hey! we were talking bitch!” she shouts after you.

“don’t care.” you don’t even give her the satisfaction of making eye contact.

there’s really no point. matt is trailing behind you like a puppy, and that’s all that matters. he clearly doesn’t want to be there any more than you want him to.

“what’s going on?” he asks as you maneuver around the outside of the crowded living room, making a beeline for the staircase.

it’s taped off to everyone except your group, in case of emergency.

this feels like one, considering you don’t even care if anyone sees you together. you don’t respond, you just let go of his hand and step over the thin barrier, glancing behind you to see if he’ll follow.

there’s a curious look in his eye, but he does the same.

you continue up the stairs, making sure he has the perfect view of your ass as you go. you can literally feel him staring, which only stokes the fire.

“are you taunting me right now?” matt asks as you reach the second floor.

this makes you pause, and you turn around so you can wrap your hand in his shirt. you yank him into the bathroom, slapping the light switch on with your free hand.

you close the door behind you, which suppresses the booming sound of nathan’s music playing through the speakers.

“what the hell is this?” you uncurl your fist and shove his chest to put some space between you.

his eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he regains his balance and sets his cup down on the counter. you realize you probably spilled some of it by dragging him around, but that’s not your main focus right now.

“what do you mean?”

“don’t you dare play dumb. you can’t stand it when anyone else even breathes near me, so why would you think that i would be okay watching you flirt with some random girl for fifteen minutes? you either want me or you fucking don’t, matt.” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

it’s shocking that you’re being this honest with him, but you’re faded and you’ve been pushed beyond your limit.

no use tip-toeing around it now.

“you think just because she came up to me that somehow means i don’t want you?” he asks, and there’s more of an edge to his tone now.

“how am i supposed to know? we haven’t talked about it, whatever this is.” you wave your hand back and forth between the two of you.

a look of understanding passes over his face. “oh, this is about labels, huh?”

this infuriates you more, because that’s not even the point you’re trying to make. he’s aggravatingly calm right now, like he’s so sure of himself.

“look, if you don’t want to be in a real relationship with me, then fine. i don’t care. but i’m not gonna keep exclusively sleeping with just you if that’s the case.”

matt is silent for a moment, eyes darting across your face. you can see him gazing at your lips, and it drives you crazy.

he takes one step forward, staring you down with those pretty blue eyes. even though your height different is relatively small, it still feels like he’s towering above you.

“are you really trying to tell me you wouldn’t care at all if i wanted to see other people?” he asks quietly.

his face is so close, and you breathe in his familiar smoky cologne. it’s dizzying, being this overwhelmingly attracted to someone.

“of course i’d be upset, but there’s not much i can do about it if you don’t feel the same.” your voice is hushed now too, and you wish you didn’t sound so weak.

matt cups your chin gently with one hand, forcing you to keep your focus on him. your heart is slamming against your ribcage now, begging for some kind of relief.

“i want to be with you so bad that it kills me.” he finally admits.

it’s your turn to be stunned, and you stay completely still as his thumb grazes over your bottom lip slowly.

“i had this whole thing planned, i was going to take you to a fancy little restaurant and ask you out like a gentleman. but you just couldn’t wait, could you?” his voice is husky, pupils blown out in lust.

“i…really?” you ask breathlessly.

“really. so what do you think? you wanna be mine?” he goads with a smirk, gripping your face a bit tighter.

it’s normally hard to swallow your pride, especially with matt, but you’re so vulnerable in this moment you can’t tell him anything besides the truth.

“i do.”

“good, because you already are.” he growls before closing the gap between you, lips crashing against yours.

he tastes sweet, like the soda he’s been mixing with vodka all night. it’s a pleasant mess of teeth and tongue as you deepen the kiss, passionate in a way that you’ve never experienced with him before.

his hands travel down to grab at your hips, pressing against you so your lower back bumps against the sink. you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling enough to elicit a groan.

it vibrates against your mouth, and you feel yourself throb just from that little noise alone. he’s normally not very vocal, but you bring it out of him.

matt’s hands slide up your body, finding their way under the hem of your sheer lace top. his cold rings press against your stomach as he slowly inches higher, leaving goosebumps in their wake. you let go of him, throwing your hands upwards so he can peel the shirt over your head.

“so fucking pretty, just for me.” matt praises as he tucks your hair behind your ear, attaching his lips to your neck seconds later.

you tilt your head back to give him a better angle, sighing in pleasure as he nips at the soft skin. one hand is feeling up your chest as his teeth dig into your collar, tongue sliding over the marks he’s leaving in an attempt to soothe the irritated areas.

you move your own fingers down between both of your bodies, ghosting them over the crotch of his jeans, palming him just a bit. his dick is already straining against your hand, and he hisses a string of curses into your shoulder.

“no more teasing tonight, i need you now.” he grumbles, already out of breath as his hands travel to undo the button of your pants.

you take the lead and slide them down yourself, tearing your thin panties off with them because you want him just as much. it doesn’t seem fair that you’re the only one exposed, so you tug his muscle tee upwards in desperation.

matt doesn’t protest, he just tosses it to the floor with the rest of your discarded clothes. you let your fingers rake over his skin, down his abdomen and over his happy trail until your fingers meet the waistline of his jeans.

you glance up at him through your lashes as you unbuckle his belt, entirely naked now, and he swears he could finish just by looking at you.

the sensation of your hands skimming against his thighs as you drag his jeans and boxers to his ankles makes him twitch. nobody has ever turned him on the way you do, and it’s frightening how good you make him feel.

but you always enjoy everything just as much, because he’s the best dick you’ve ever had. perfect length, enough girth to stretch you out, and he knows exactly how to move to your liking. matt even keeps it trimmed nicely.

the tip glistens with precum, and you pull your hair back with one hand like you’re getting ready to put it in your mouth.

“no, stand back up baby.” he instructs, and the commanding note in his voice makes you push yourself off your knees, extending to your full height.

matt turns you around so you’re facing the mirror, one hand on your side and the other on your back as he forces you to bend at the waist. your forearms press flat against the cool marble counter, and the assertiveness of it all sends a jolt of excitement right to your core.

his palm comes down on the curve of your ass without warning, just hard enough to sting. you let out a whimper, arching your back more as you gaze at him through the reflection.

he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, smoothing his hand over the place he just hit. his eyes are so dark, so full of desire that it just solidifies the way you feel about him.

“you like that? you want me to be rough?” matt leans over you, cock pressed against you as he speaks into your ear.

“please.” you whine, shifting your hips to try and feel more of him, to feel anything.

he stops your movements immediately and smacks your ass again, this time on the opposite side. it makes you groan in delight, almost involuntarily.

“you’re gonna look at yourself while i fuck you, got it princess?” he says, backing up just a bit so he can take his dick into his own hand and pump a few times.

you nod as you feel him line himself up at your entrance, and you know that at this angle you’re perfectly on display for him.

he pushes himself inside of you in one fluid motion, and you gasp as his fingers squeeze your hip. matt doesn’t give you time to adjust to him like normal. instead he immediately starts to pick up speed, wrapping your hair in his free hand so you can’t look anywhere else besides in front of you.

your lips are parted as you moan, eyes fluttering at the stimulation. you can hear matt grunting behind you, a deliciously dirty sound.

“look at how pretty you are, taking me so well. all fucking mine.” he marvels, rocking your body against him even harder.

skin slaps together, and his pace is making your legs tremble. you can feel the party raging on underneath you, and it’s strangely even hotter in this setting.

“shit, you fill me up so good matt.” you tell him, catching his eyes for a second before he throws his head back.

“fuck.”

he’s hitting it so well, and you can feel yourself tightening around him with every stroke. it’s turning him into an even bigger mess.

“god, if you keep that up i’m not gonna last much longer.” he warns, bucking his hips into you at a slightly different angle.

you cry out at the new sensation, a guttural noise that you didn’t even know you could make.

“i’m so close, right there babe.”

matt listens perfectly, using the hand on your waist to guide you so that you bounce against his thighs in the same spot. you’re a whining mess, and you can’t keep looking in the mirror.

you feel the tears as your eyes screw shut. the fire in your stomach is growing, spreading throughout your whole body. he tugs your roots a little bit more.

“come all over my dick, pretty girl. it’s all yours.”

his words are what send you over the edge, and your body shudders as you feel yourself giving in to the high, releasing all over him.

“fuck, matt, stay inside.” you pant, and he groans loudly.

two more sloppy strokes and you feel him tense, filling you up as he finishes. matt lets go of your hair, dragging his fingers along your shoulders, you back. you look so fucked out, makeup smudged slightly under your eyes, and you both love it.

he pulls out slowly, giving you one last tiny pat on your ass.

you’ve both got stars in your eyes as you stand, and you can feel the wetness pool against your thighs. thank god you’re on birth control. this was a special occasion anyways.

you turn, and matt immediately pulls you in for a kiss. you smile slightly, because you can’t help it.

“come on, i need to get cleaned up.” you pull away slightly.

“fine.” he sighs, but he lets you go regardless.

you wipe yourself off with some toilet paper quickly and flush it while he redresses. you two have been missing for minute now.

you guess it doesn’t really matter. sure, you should probably be discrete about having sex around your friends. but you’re also together. officially.

“so, does this mean i can tell the other girls in your dms to fuck off?” you joke as you put your underwear back on, shimmying into your jeans next.

“you can honestly tell them whatever you want.” matt runs a hand through his hair, smiling at you like a fucking goofball.

you’re just situating your shirt into place when the door comes swinging open, revealing a very drunk nathan. you and matt freeze, completely unsure what to do.

his eyes go wide as he realizes what’s going on, mouth hanging open like he can’t believe it.

“woah. no fucking way”

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Eighteen

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Violence. A lot more violence than usual. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4.3k

A/N : if you haven't already voted for what you want to see me write next, you've got a day and a half left

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN | CHAPTER SIXTEEN | CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Eighteen

It felt like the world was unravelling around him, like he was coming apart at the seams. While he’d said the words hours ago, it wasn’t until that moment that he started to feel the weight of them. He loved you. He loved you in a way that he’d never allowed himself to love anyone else. He loved you in a way that was so deep, so visceral that if he lost you, he knew he’d never recovered. 

You were inexorably linked, two halves of one soul. You were everything to him and Billy knew he couldn’t go back to the empty, bleak life he’d been living, no matter how many times he’d tried to convince himself overwise over the last couple of months.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, running a red light to get to Krista’s building. Frank and Madani were talking but, to Billy, it all just sounded like static in his ears.

He couldn’t lose you.

He wouldn’t.

Pulling up, he killed the engine and before anyone could think to speak or question, he was out of the car, clearing the steps to the building two at a time. Frank and Madani had to rush to keep up with him, each still talking, calling after him. But Billy didn’t care about waiting, about figuring out ‘what to do’. No, Billy knew what he was going to do; he was going to make Krista talk, he was going to make her understand why fucking with you had been the worst decision of her life

It was a blur and, for a few minutes he lost himself; he kicked the door open and the next thing he knew, he had his hands around her throat, with Frank yelling at him to calm down.

“Where is she?” The voice that left his lips wasn’t quite his own.

“Gone. I don’t know where,” Krista answered, grinning despite the grip he had on her. “You’ll never find her. Just like you never found Mary.”

Somehow Frank managed to wrench Billy away but Krista didn’t even try to escape. She was enjoying the scene playing out before her, she was taking pleasure in his pain, glad that she’d had some small part in causing it.

“Mary?” It was Madani who spoke, gun drawn, stepping forwards. “Mary Poots?”

“Poor little Mary,” Krista said in a sing-song tone, barely holding back a laugh. “You thought you could replace me with someone so... fragile...”

“You killed Mary Poots?” Madani tried to continue her line of questioning despite the fact that Krista’s attention was fully on Billy.

“Now you’re going to lose the new one,” Krista carried on, all eyes on her. “I’ll take the next one, too. And the one after that. All of them. Every last one, until I’m all you have left.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Billy spat and that drew a laugh from Krista.

“If I am, it’s because of you, because you infected me...” she laughed again. “Or, no, I suppose it was Layla... not that it matters. You fuck up everything you touch, don’t you, Billy?”

“Just tell me where she is!” Billy demanded.

He lunged towards her, but Frank was too quick, too strong, wrapping an arm around him and holding Billy back.

“I don’t know,” she answered, still smiling, seemingly unbothered. “I never asked and he never told. You shouldn’t worry, I’m sure she’ll make a beautiful bride. Her fiance was so happy to finally have her back.”

Billy snapped and snarled, struggling against Frank and against himself, his last shred of control quickly starting to split and fray. He wanted to kill her, wanted to do what he knew he should have done months ago.

“She’s not worth it, Bill,” Frank told him, trying to pull him away.

“You’ve just confessed to murder in front of a Federal Agent,” Madani finally piped up, earning a laugh from Krista, before her attention shifted to Frank and Billy. “If Justin Drake has her and they’re still in the city, we’ll be able to track her down.”

“And what if she’s not still in the city?” Billy snapped. “There’s only a few hours until dawn...”

“We’re going to find her,” Madani answered, her tone sharpening to match his.

“And what about her?” Frank dared to ask, drawing all eyes back to Krista.

“I can send someone to pick her up.”

Krista finally moved, attempting to bolt for the door but, somehow, Billy managed to wrench free of Frank’s grip and lunged for her, knocking into her so hard that they both fell to the ground.

She ripped and tore at him with her nails, sinking her fangs into his shoulder and not letting go until his elbow connected with her face. They rolled, Billy ending up on top before she caught him across the face, clawing at him. She rolled him, straddling him as she landed another hit across his face while Billy’s hands gripped her throat.

By the time Frank pulled her away, they were both bloody and bruised, each bearing the marks of each other’s hatred. She kicked and screamed against Frank’s grip as he pushed her face first into the wall, pinning her there while Madani cuffed her to a radiator.

“You think that’s gonna hold her?” Frank asked, eying Krista as she dropped to the ground.

“It’s all we can do for now,” Madani answered. “We need to move.”

“She needs to die,” Billy snarled.

It felt like his body was vibrating with rage, like the thing inside of him had finally won. But, before he could move, Frank was on him, forcing him backwards, hands shoving him so hard that he knocked the breath from Billy’s lungs.

“You wanna waste time on her while your girl’s out there? You wanna throw her life away and yours just so you can settle a score with this crazy bitch?” He barked in Billy’s face, shoving him again. Billy didn’t have an answer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now fucking move, this guy isn’t gonna find himself.”

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

It felt like the world had tilted on its axis and gripping the edge of the table was all you could do to keep yourself from falling. It had never made sense why he wanted you, why he’d been so adamant; you weren’t anything special, you weren’t worth anything (certainly not when compared to the amount of money your parents owed him). But, now you finally had answers, it made even less sense.

He was doing this because you looked like a distant relative who you shared only a fraction of your DNA with. 

He was doing this because she had denied him, just like you were trying to deny him.

He wanted you to be a vampire, to spend an eternity at his side.

“No.” The word fell from your mouth with a certainty that you didn’t feel.

“You don’t have a choice,” he retorted, already sounding like he was done with your denials and insolence.

“Yes, I do,” you answered back, remembering all the times Billy had told you as much.

You hadn’t believed it at the time, you’d thought that it was just a line, something he was telling you to make you feel better but, now, faced with someone who wanted to remove your choice, your agency, you realised that Billy had been right all along. Lifting your head and sitting a little straighter, you silently promised yourself that you weren’t going to cower before him, you weren’t going to let this sorry excuse for a man decide your future.

“You can do what you want to me. I’ll never be yours,” you told him. “Even if it takes my whole life, I’ll do everything I can to escape you.”

“I don’t know what you think you can -”

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” you interrupted, not letting him get the upper hand, not letting him treat you like the naive child you had been when you last sat across from him. “You will never get what you want from me.”

Anger flickered across his face and it took him more than a few seconds to tamp it down again. Obviously he hadn’t been expecting such resistance from you.

But then came the laugh, a sound that caused dread to coil in your stomach.

“Like I told you; I’m a patient man and I have an eternity to bend you to my will,” he sai, his voice softer than his expression. “There might be nothing I can do to you anymore, but I already told you that your sister, her children...”

“You won’t hurt them.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you’ll lose your leverage over me if you do,” you answered, trying to hide the discomfort in your voice, hating that you were gambling with your sister’s safety. “And if you think I’m being difficult now, you’ve got no idea how much worse I can be.”  

Drake let out another callous huff of laughter, a twisted smile pulling at his lips.

“You’re right, but there are other ways to hurt you, aren’t there? Other people close to your heart...” he trailed off for a moment, letting his words sink in. “What about William Russo or his little human friend? Karen is it?”

As much as you wanted to remain defiant, the thought of anything happening to Billy made you feel sick to your stomach. You couldn’t let anything happen to him. You wouldn’t. 

Before you realised you were doing it, your hand was gripping the knife in front of you. 

It took him by surprise when you lunged across the table, aiming the blunt knife towards his chest despite knowing that it wouldn’t be enough to kill him. You didn’t care. The outcome of this didn’t matter; either he would die or you would. Either way, Billy would be safe.

Plates and glasses smashed as you half-fell over the table, tipping his chair back and knocking him to the floor, you on top of him.

His fingers gripped your wrist, stopping you as you tried to bring the knife down, holding the tip only a few inches from his chest.

There was noise all around you and it wasn’t until some time later that you realised it was you, that you were screaming, telling him you were going to kill him, that you wouldn’t stop until he was dead.

The struggle felt like it lasted a lifetime when, in reality, a few seconds after you’d cleared the table, one of his goons had arrived and pulled you off him. Kicking and screaming, you were carried back to your room and thrown inside.

You landed with an awkward thud, pain radiating up your bad arm despite the cast. But, seconds later, you were back on your feet, banging against the door, trying to get out, only to find that you were locked in. But that didn’t stop you from continuing to kick and scream at the door, telling him that you were going to kill him, that the only way he’d stop you was by killing you.

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

After they’d left Josie’s, Frank had text Karen to let her know what was going on and where they were headed. She decided to stick around and keep asking questions around the bar, making sure that nothing had been missed but, after half an hour or so, she decided to call it a night and head home.

She left with your suitcase, having stuffed Bill the Beagle back inside, rolling it along the sidewalk behind her. Her apartment was only a couple of blocks away and, despite the late hour, she’d never felt particularly unsafe walking home from Josie’s.

“Hey, uh, excuse me Miss?” A voice rang out.

Not thinking, Karen stopped and turned, seeing a large man dressed in a dark suit heading towards her.

“Can I help you with something?” She asked, finally noticing the limo parked in front of Josie’s.

It couldn’t be a coincidence; Josie’s wasn’t the sort of place anyone would want to leave a limousine, especially not twice in one night. Karen took a step back, realisation causing her blood to turn ice cold in her veins.

“Yeah, I think that suitcase belongs to a friend of mine,” he answered, slowly stepping towards her. 

The moment he started to move, Karen reached into her purse, trying to find her gun but not taking her eyes off of him for even a second.

“Funny,” she answered, “because this case happens to belong to a friend of mine.” 

Gun in hand, she lifted it, pointing it straight at him, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. She couldn’t be sure if he was a vampire or not, but she wasn’t going to take any chances, and aimed the gun at his chest. It might not kill him, but it would definitely slow him down.

“Where is she?” Karen demanded.

“It’s none of your concern,” he answered back, daring to take the slightest step but hesitating  again when Karen lifted the gun a little higher, aiming for his heart.

“I said, where is she?” She repeated, taking a step of her own.

“She’s with her fiance and if I were you, I’d just hand over the case.”

Karen opened her mouth about to refuse again when he moved, clearing the distance between them with a supernatural speed, knocking the gun from her grasp and into the road. As she moved to grab the suitcase, he struck her with the back of his hand, knocking her off balance and sending her to the pavement.

Karen scrambled for the gun but, by the time she had it, he was almost back at the limo, throwing the case into the passenger side before moving around to the driver's door.

As he started up the engine, Karen noticed a taxi and quickly tried to flag it down. When it didn’t stop, she stepped out into the street in front of it, making it stop for her.

“Follow that limo,” she told the driver as she climbed into the back.

“Listen, lady, I -” the driver started to refuse.

“No, you listen, the piece of shit that owns that limo has kidnapped a friend of mine and I have a gun, so you can either follow that limo and get paid at the end of this, or I’m going to have to take your taxi.”

The threat hung in the air for a few seconds. She could see the driver wearily eyeing her in the rearview, no doubt taking note of the gun in her lap and her split lip.

“Alright, fine, just don’t go doin’ anything crazy,” he muttered before starting after the limo.

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

They were barely outside of Krista’s building when Frank got the call. Billy watched as his friend's expression dropped from one of calm control to absolute rage in less than five seconds. He’d been busy listening to Madani, to all the measures she was putting in place to try and track you down; tracking the limo, credit cards, checking hotel guest lists. It only vaguely occurred to him that it wasn’t until then that he heard your so-called fiance’s name for the first time tonight.

Justin Drake.

Not that it mattered what his name was; he’d be a dead man the moment Billy got his hands on him.

But, for a few seconds, all of that stopped mattering and his attention was fixed on Frank.

“Are you okay?” he demanded of the person on the other end of the call. “Did he hurt you?” There was a pause for an answer that Billy couldn’t quite make out over the sound of traffic. “Where are you? No - no, stay outside and wait for us. We’ll be there in five minutes.”

“What’s going on?” Billy asked the moment Frank ended the call.

“He sent one of his goons after the suitcase. Karen followed him back to the Park View hotel, she thinks that’s where he’s got her.” Frank explained.

A second later Madani was relaying that information on her call, but Billy was already moving for the car, and Frank was quick to follow.

“Wait, I can get back up and -” Madani started, falling into step behind the men.

“We ain’t waiting,” Frank answered.This time it was his turn to be angry. They’d gone near Karen and, now, it was personal for him. 

The conversation continued as they got in the car and carried on until they arrived at the hotel; Madani wanted to wait for back-up. Billy and Frank didn’t. It was that simple. They weren’t going to wait.

“You can help us, or you can stay here,” Frank told her, though his attention was immediately focused on Karen the moment he saw her, his blood starting to boil at the sight of her split lip. “We’re killin’ this fucker.”

“Yeah we are,” Billy responded.

Frank gave Karen some quick instructions, telling her to go wait in the car and to stay out of the way. He tried to tell Madani to wait with her but the Homeland Agent refused, trying one last time to convince them to just wait a few more minutes for back-up to arrive. Before she could even finish, Billy was moving past her and heading for the hotel’s entrance.

He moved through the lobby, drawing stares from everyone that looked his way; blood from the wounds that Krista had inflicted was still fresh on his clothes and he looked as if he’d just torn someone apart with his bare hands.

By the time he reached the front desk, there were already two members of the hotel security team standing there.

“I’m Agent Madani with Homeland Security,” she spoke before anyone else had the chance, and before Billy had the opportunity to do anything stupid. “You have a Justin Drake staying here, I need access to his rooms, now.” 

“I can’t just -” the receptionist started to answer.

“He has a woman with him up there, doesn’t he?” Madani asked, stepping up to the desk. “A woman that turned up earlier tonight?”

Billy took a step forward, getting ready to take matters into his own hands.

“I can’t reveal -” the receptionist tried again.

“He kidnapped her,” Billy snapped, “and he’s planning on hurting her. So you can either let us in peacefully, or we can make you.”

The security guards moved closer but then, at the sight of Frank stepping forwards, they seemed to shy away.

“We can wait for a warrant, or you can let us in now. Either way, if anything happens, it’ll be on you,” Madani explained. “Call Homeland - hell, call the cops, the FBI, whoever you want. Have us arrested when we’re done. But if anything happens, her blood will be on your hands.”

“And we’ve got Karen Page from The Bulletin sittin’ outside waitin’ for her friend to come out, so I suggest if you don’t wanna be named as complicit in this...” Frank let the threat go unfinished.

The receptionist had turned snow white, her hands trembling as she handed over a keycard and directed them to the elevator. The two hotel security members followed after.

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

You heard the commotion before everything went to hell.

There was a phone call; from what you could gather they had a friend in the FBI who’d gotten wind of a Homeland investigation, and there was about to be a raid on the hotel. They needed to get out of there, as quickly as they could.

“Come on,” he demanded, holding out his hand to you.

“No.”

“I’ve had enough of your games,” he muttered, his voice changing, turning softer. “Now, come with me.”

When he held out his hand again, you took a step towards him, wanting to do exactly as he said.

“N-no,” you said, shaking your head, trying to block him out, trying not to let him sway you.

“Come on, come with me. Right now,” he tried again.

Again you took a step, then another. Something inside of you told you to stop, to fight him, but you couldn’t. All you wanted to do was go with him.

“That’s it, come along and -”

“Boss, they’re in the elevator!”

The sudden disruption was enough to snap you out of it. You stepped back, reestablishing the space between you. You weren’t going to make this easy for him. 

“Told you I’d never be yours,” you muttered defiantly, triumphantly.

You both knew that there was no way that Drake was going to get out of this, at least not with you at his side. He’d have to let you go if he wanted to escape.

But you realised all too late what letting go looked like to Justin Drake.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” He asked, starting towards you. “I would have given you everything if only you’d chosen not to act like a tempermental whore. But it’s really no bother. I’m sure when your niece is old enough she’ll be far more amenable, far more grateful for what I have to offer.” 

You stepped back as he closed the distance, until you found yourself against the window.

“At least I get to have one last taste,” he muttered darkly.

“No!” 

Your arms shot out, trying to push him away, trying to keep him from biting you. But he was bigger than you and infinitely stronger. He pushed you back, held you in place despite your thrashing and screaming. You tried everything you could to stop him from pressing closer and closer, trying to turn away as he bowed his head towards your neck.

“Not so defiant now, are you?”

“Please, no - no!” You screamed and begged, tears streaming down your face.

He bit down. Hard. 

Fangs tore through flesh, but rather than lingering to feed, he pulled back, his lips and chin dripping dark with your blood.

It took a moment for you to realise that blood was slowly filling your throat, that he’d left you with more than just a puncture wound.

Your hand lifted as he pulled back and started to walk away, feeling the wound he’d left and the way blood was spurting from it. Lightheadedness quickly over took and you found yourself sliding down the glass and onto the floor. Desperately you reached for the hoodie you’d discarded on the floor when you’d changed for dinner, pressing it against the wound, hoping you’d survive long enough to see Billy one last time.

You weren’t sure what was happening, but you heard gunshots and shouting. Then someone was at your side, her hand holding the hoodie tighter against your wounds and shouting for Billy. 

Madani.

(What was Madani doing there?)

“Hold on, help’s on the way,” she told you, but the words barely registered.

You had so many questions but it seemed too late to try and ask them.

But finally - finally  - Billy was at your side. Dropping to his knees, his eyes filling with tears at the sight of you.

“B-Billy,” you managed to choke out despite the blood filling your mouth and lungs, “you’re h-here...”

You felt him squeezing your hand, holding you so tight, like he never wanted to let you go. There were tears in his eyes as he looked down at you and you knew exactly what they meant; you were dying. In your efforts to save him the pain of watching you die, you’d brought it about decades early.

“I told you,” he muttered softly, “I’ll never let you go.”

Madani continued to press the cloth against your wound but you could tell from Billy’s face that it wasn’t helping.

“S-sorry,” you tried to mutter, wishing that you had more time, wishing that you could apologise properly.

“Don’t,” he told you, “don’t try to talk. Just - just stay still, stay with me, it’s going to be alright.”

“I l-love -” you couldn’t finish, there was too much blood and you were starting to feel so cold, so tired.

“Hey - hey, hummingbird, keep your eyes on me. It’s going to be okay,” Billy told you, but his voice sounded so far away. 

You struggled to hold his gaze, some part of you glad that you’d gotten to see him one last time, but the rest of you hated the agony on his face and the tears streaking down his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” he told you, squeezing your hand tighter, like he was trying to hold you in this life and not let you slip away. “I love you and - and I’m sorry, I know you’ll hate me but...”

The rest faded into the sound of your own panic, some part of you knowing what he was trying to tell you, knowing what he wanted to do. You tried to shake your head, tried to pull at his hand but you were so weak you could barely move. 

You were so far gone that you didn’t hear him screaming and pleading with Frank, nor did you hear Frank’s initial refusal and Billy’s threat to do it himself. 

Your eyes went wide when Frank loomed over you, looking at you for a moment, an unspoken apology colouring his features. You tried to speak, trying to say something - though, confronted with your own death, even you weren’t sure what you wanted anymore. But you felt Billy’s hand squeezing yours and some piece of you wanted to hold on, wanted to have his hand in yours for longer than this moment, longer than the six months that you’d had together. 

You wanted him.

You wanted the man you loved.

(It wasn’t fair. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to leave him.)

But it was too late. Your eyes fell shut and you let out a gurgled breath, and the last thing you heard was Billy’s shouts.

End Note : So, yeah... I have a lot of feelings about this chapter. I know it jumps around and I'm not the greatest at action sequences (I'm working on it). And I know people won't like the ending and so on, but I'm having fun. I'm not sure if next week will be the last part now or if I'll have an epilogue the week after to tie up loose ends. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this and it wasn't a let down! Also I'm sorry if any typos slipped through, I lost a night of writing to go see Deadpool last night..

As ever, thank you so much for your support/reading/liking/reblogging/screaming at me in the comments! Have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

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[nirvanawrites111]

Claim Me (Sub!Minho x Dom!Reader)

Pairing: Minho x Reader

No pronouns used. y/n is AFAB

Word Count: 2209

Smut warning: Pegging, fingers, phone sex, orgasm denial, handjob, cum eating, very light degradation, Y/N is called mistress, Idol AU

Minors Do not interact, please and thank you!!

"Tell me... I'm yours, mistress, please." Minho whimpers through the phone. 

He's trying his best not to wake anyone up in his house. Sure, he finally has his own room, but the walls are extremely thin. The last thing he needs is anyone hearing this conversation. 

His hand is wrapped around his aching length. He wants nothing more than your hands tightly squeezing it until he oozes his release just to lick it off your hand. 

You've made him like this. Never had he explored this type of desire with anyone else. But, with you, he opened himself completely to serve you and allow you to explore this side of him. 

Minho strokes his length nice and slow as you instructed, even though he wants to speed up and come. So, he can sleep and rest for his show tomorrow. 

The calmness and seductiveness laced in your voice are enough to tip him over the edge and push him to the limit. But, out of respect for you, he won't come until you tell him to. 

"Minny, I've told you several times you aren't mine until I've had your ass," you explain calmly. 

All Minho wants is to be yours and not belong to anyone else. He wants to be the source of all your pleasure and be exclusive with you. 

But, he knows that he has to earn that spot. That isn't something that will just be given to him. 

"Yes, mistress," Minho replies, still palming his dick and listening to your voice. 

The thought of you pegging him has him throbbing. He wants to be bent over his bed with his hair in your hand and throwing it back on your strap. He wants that more than his next meal. 

"Now, since you seem not to follow the rules. Stop touching yourself. We will pick up tomorrow when I come over to see Changbin, good night," you end the call without further explanation. 

The call ends, and Minho lays back against his pillow. His eyes are up at the ceiling, and pre-cum oozing out the tip. Why do you have him so eager and thirsty for you? Sure, he can have anyone, but none hold a candle to you. 

He takes a deep breath and sits up on the side of the bed. He grabs his underwear off the ground and looks down at his dick. 

You will know if he masturbated, so he decides not to push the envelope further or cross that boundary. He puts it back on and sends you a text. 

Minho: Good night, mistress. Thank you so much for your time. I promise tomorrow I will be good for you. 

***

You know that you must deliver a hand-painted jacket to Changbin today, so you will be in to see Minho. It's been hard keeping this secret from Changbin.

Maybe, because you and Binnie used to be friends with benefits a while ago. 

You know you want to explore with Minho, but you're unsure how you will accomplish this without Changbin finding out.

Sure, it would be easier for Minho to visit your place. But, with how nosey your roommate is, you would rather not chance it. You don't want him to have a scandal and lose everything because of you. So, you don't mind coming over to him. 

You knock on the door, and Changbin answers. "What's good, Y/n?" Changbin asks you, and by the way, he's looking at you. He probably thinks you want him. 

Changbin has a luxury Balenciaga tan sweater and black pants that perfectly hug his muscular thighs. Not to mention the Cuban link around his neck. 

"Nothing. I got your jacket." You lift the bag to show him, and he invites you in.

"Perfect. You are a lifesaver," Changbin hugs you. His firm tone body feels good against yours. But, you can't help but imagine what Minho would feel like. 

You sit in the living room, and Minho comes out in an oversized hoodie and tight boxer briefs. He walks into the kitchen. "Hey, Y//n," he greets you, but it is short and sweet. 

"Hey," you reply. 

"This is going to be perfect for my photo shoot, Y/n." Changbin is so engulfed in your artwork. 

Changbin is busy trying on the jacket, and he goes to the bathroom down the hall to look at the details. 

Minho comes into the living room with a blanket. He sits next to you. Now, this isn't the first time you've been over here. So, it's not like Changbin will think anything of it.

"Touch me, mistress," Minho whispers in your ear, and he's clearly horny for you.  

"No moaning, either." You grab Minho's face, and you remove your jacket. Minho turns on the television.

Your hand goes under the covers and over his boxer brief. He's already hard for you, but you aren't surprised. 

You hear Changbin on the phone arguing with someone. But, you don't care. Whatever it will take to buy you time with Minho is all that matters. 

Your hand dances along his crotch, and you rub your palm against his hard-on. 

You watch Minho's face to see if he will disobey you and moan. You tilt your head and give him a stern look. 

He's been whining for weeks about how much he wants to be yours, but he has to be able to follow directions if he wants the privilege of being considered yours. 

You feel a bit of pre-cum stain on the front of his underwear. You continue rubbing him until you feel the wet spot grow. You watch Minho swallow hard, trying his best not to moan, and it's cute. Commendable at best. 

You remove the blanket from Minho's lap, and his eyes grow. "Mistress?" he whispers. "What are you doing?"

"You don't trust me?" 

"I do... completely."

"I got you, don't worry."

You reach your hand into his underwear and stroke him fast. You like the slick sound of your hand rubbing him.

You use a bit of his pre-cum to make the interaction smoother. 

Minho bites his lip, and he looks down at you working your hand faster. His breathing quickens, and his hips start to buck, but you hold him down with your other hand. You want to make this last as long as possible. 

You can tell that he wants to moan your name so badly, and he appears to be fighting himself internally to be the obedient slut that you want.  

"Moan for me," you taunt him. 

Minho lets a low whimper as he enjoys your skillful stroke that he's thought about for weeks.

He's been dying for your soft and perfect touch against him. Feeling you connect with him like this is making his head spin. All while his roommate is in the other room. 

"Mmm.. sounds so good, baby. Do you want to come?" 

"Yess.. mistress." You can see the desire in Minho's eyes as he nods eagerly, desperate for release. 

His body is tense, and his breathing is heavy as he edges closer to the brink of ecstasy. 

You can feel his muscles tightening under your touch, and you know that he's close. 

"Y/n?" Changbin yells from the other room. 

"Yes?" you ask, but you don't stop stroking Minho. You want to finish the job. It's the least you can do. You can see how needy Minho is for your touch. 

"Baby, I gotta go to the studio. I swear they can't do shit without me." 

"Come," you lean over to Minho and whisper. You put your tongue in his ear as he comes all over your hand. 

"Lick," you tell him to clean it off, and he does it perfectly.

You toss the blanket over him and move to the other end of the couch as you hear Changbin's footsteps approaching from the different rear of the apartment. 

Changbin appears in the living room and grabs his keys off the wall. He comes over to you. "Can you wait for me?" Changbin asks. 

Changbin is starting deep in your eyes; you know he wants a taste of you like old times. 

"Of course. I'll be here."

"Perfect. Thanks again for the jacket. I'll see you soon," Changbin kisses you on the lips. He leaves out of the apartment. 

You stand up and grab your leash out of your bag. You put on Minho's collar around his neck. "You did really good, baby. He didn't suspect a thing. Let's go."

"Thank you, mistress."

Minho gets on his hands and knees. You walk him into his bedroom and close the door behind you. You lock the door just to be sure. 

You toss Minho onto the bed and stand over him. You want to do so much with him. But, those other things can happen another time. Right now, you only have time to fuck him. 

"You've been training, right?" you question him. The last thing you want is for him not to enjoy his first time. 

"Yes, mistress. I have my plug in now."

"Can I see?"

Minho removes his hoodie and then peels out of his cum-filled boxers. His body is perfect, and he turns around to show you he's indeed plugged. 

"So, do you want me to claim you?" 

"Yes, mistress." Minho nods. 

You can feel your own excitement growing as you take in the sight of him. 

You climb onto the bed and straddle him, running your hands over his chest and down to his hard dick. 

You kiss him deeply, feeling his hands grip your hips tightly. You break the kiss and move to his neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

As you go down to his chest, you take one of his nipples into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it before moving to the other. Minho moans loudly beneath you, urging you on. 

You continue down his body until you reach his plug, which is still firmly in place. You run a finger around it before slowly pulling it out, eliciting another moan from Minho. 

"Please, mistress. Fuck me."

"Gladly. Let's start with a finger, first."

You stand back and grab the lube off his dresser. You unzip your skirt to reveal you're already wearing your strap. He stares at you with his eyes widened at the sight of it. 

You apply the lube generously to your strap. You proceed to lube your fingers, so that you can feel him first. You tease his ass a bit with one finger. A cute moan escapes from his lips. You could listen to him moan all night like you've been for the last couple of weeks. 

"How does it feel?" You ask him. 

"Good.. I think I can take another."

You challenge his request and stick another finger inside of him. You move your fingers and lean down to kiss him. He looks so good sprawled out on his bed with a collar around his neck. 

You can feel his body tensing up as you continue to work him with your fingers. His moans are getting louder and more desperate, and you can tell he's close to the edge. 

"You are so naughty… about to come just from my fingers. I like this side of you."

You remove your fingers from him and pull his legs closer to you.

"Ready to be claimed?"

"Yessss." Minho whines out. 

You position yourself at his entrance and slide into him inch by inch. "Relax, baby. I got you."

You could easily go rough on him, but you consider yourself gentler than most. You start slow to get him used to having someone inside of him. 

As you continue to move in and out of him, you can feel his body start to respond. His muscles relax, and he begins to moan softly. You take this as a sign that he's ready for more, so you quickly pick up the pace.

Minho locks eyes with you, and shudders underneath as you set a steady rhythm, each thrust pushing him closer to the brink. He's writhing beneath you, completely at your mercy. You lean down and bite his neck as you pound into him relentlessly. 

You don't want anyone else on your strap, just him. 

 As you move in and out of him, Minho's moans fill the room. You can feel his body tense up as he approaches his release. You quicken your pace, knowing he's almost there.

"God, you're so beautiful like this. Taking all of me like a good little slut."

"Am I your slut?" Minho innocently asks. 

"Yes, all mine."

"This is all I ever wanted."

"Then come for me."

Leaning closer to Minho, you slip your tongue into his mouth, and he moans into your mouth as he comes. Minho's body shudders as he climaxes, his moans growing louder and more desperate. He comes hands-free just like you taught him to.

You pull out of him and lie next to him. You pull him into your arms. "You belong to me, Minny."

He nods, his breathing still heavy. "I belong to you," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. You smile, running your fingers through his hair as he catches his breath.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Oh look another chapter

We'll I'll be damned.

Mihawk has yet to grace us with his presence here, but I always love writing Garp's unhinged unpredictable ass, and I'm quite enjoying portraying Bogard for the first time as well. There's just something about a tall mysterious dude with a signature hat that I'll always enjoy.

A few notes this time:

I've determined that Mihawk would be around 28/29 years old in this timeline.

I'll be operating under the assumption that zoan-type devil fruit users aren't able to communicate with actual animals.

Can't find any actual source regarding Bogard's Marine rank. There is speculation that, by his coat, he is likely a vice admiral himself in the canon timeline. I'm operating under the assumption here then that, as Garp's right hand, he was likely promoted after Garp, so at this point in time I'm going with Rear Admiral, one rank below Garp. If anyone knows otherwise for a fact, please tell me so I can correct it, because I'm a chronic canon-junkie.

Reader is 21 years old; having consumed a devil fruit at six years old, and fifteen years having since passed.

It's not specified exactly when Mihawk took up residence on Kuraigana Island, from what I can tell. I could be wrong, and there could be some slight deviation from canon in that respect, but I'll let that slide this time for the sake of narrative. At this point he's not necessarily living there, but he has already used it as a hideout and is considering the idea. So while it's not exclusively his territory yet, he's essentially the only person who's bothered with the place.

This is looking like it's going to be more than three chapters for sure. Maybe five or six? I can at least promise that Mihawk will be in the next chapter.

Inserting obligatory Mihawk gif for tax reasons

dreamy sigh

what was I doing...?

o right uhhhhm

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

Ch. 2 of like five or something idk

Previous Chapter Link , Next Chapter Link

SFW for now, but not in later chapters

Possible trigger warning for bullying. Possible future trigger warnings for imprisonment, mild torture (definitely psychological, maybe physical)

Tags: Enemies to lovers, eventually NSFW, idk maybe more later

Word Count: 3,794

♫♬Shotgun Shoes — The Fratellis♬♫Well I don't need your or your psychosisI can get to crazy by myself

You weren’t given any further details just yet. At your firm acceptance of what was perhaps the most insane idea you had ever heard, Garp immediately placed a call back to headquarters to inform Fleet Admiral Sengoku, quite smugly, that he would be going forward with Project Macaw. Still feeling borderline delirious, you barely heard yourself saying something about how gray parrots weren’t technically classified as macaws before Bogard, pinching at the bridge of his nose, jerked his head toward the door, indicating for you to follow him out of the office. It was difficult to truly wrap your head around the gravity of the situation yet. None of it quite seemed real.

Bogard pulled the door shut after them in the hallway outside, muffling Garp’s jovial gloating. For a long moment Bogard frowned down at you, arms crossed, clearly far less pleased. Several seconds passed before expelled an irritated sigh.

“You’ll need to pack your belongings immediately, cadet. Come on,” he said, turning on his heel and heading down the hall, not bothering to glance back and see if you were following. You had to force yourself to move, your feet feeling as if they had been replaced with lead weights. “Should any of your comrades ask, you are to tell them no more than that you’re being transferred to another base for reasons you are unable to disclose.”

“Can…I tell anyone where?” you asked. He did glance at you at this, his gaze sharp. “Not—just—my mom. She writes to me every week.”

“You are being transferred to a base in the Grand Line, where you will be receiving special training to hone your devil fruit powers,” he said curtly. You nodded quickly, not keen on pressing the subject too hard when the officer was already clearly annoyed. “She will be able to write you once we’ve arrived there. Should you release any information to anyone regarding the nature of your mission, you will be discharged from service at best.”

“A…and…at worst…?”

“You could be charged with treason and executed.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that left your throat at first was a strangled sort of squeak. The matter-of-fact way he had just told you that letting any details at all slip could lead to your untimely death didn’t help the surreal feeling that this was all a ridiculous dream. After pulling in a deep breath, you managed to force out weakly, “Understood, sir.”

Silence fell as you followed Bogard in the direction of barracks. Most of the other cadets would still be in the mess hall for dinner at this hour, and that left you with at least the comfort that you wouldn’t have to contend with too many questions—or too much taunting. The closer you drew to your destination, the more that surreal feeling seemed to float away to be replaced by the horrific weight of reality. You had been enlisted for only a few short months, made into a laughingstock when your fellow cadets discovered your devil fruit powers, and now you were being carted off to use those exact powers to assist in bringing down one of the deadliest men in the world.

A small part of you felt a degree of pride at the prospect that, for once, someone thought you might be remotely useful, but that part was a tiny whisper among the screaming terror occupying your head. Even once you reached the blessedly empty barracks and set to quickly and haphazardly packing your few personal belongings, as Bogard loomed silently beside the door waiting with his arms crossed, you couldn’t shake Garp’s reasoning for all of this coming down to that one ridiculous claim.

Let’s face it—pirates like parrots.

You swallowed as you stuffed your spare uniforms into a trunk, glancing toward Bogard, drawing up enough resolve to speak to the tall, imposing officer.

“I…is the vice admiral always so…”

“Barking mad?” he offered dully, and your mouth snapped shut. You weren’t sure whether to agree with such a harsh statement about such a high ranking Marine. Bogard saved you the trouble. “Yes. He is.”

“Ah. Right. Great.” You swallowed, turning your attention back to packing your belongings. You had nearly finished now and there would be plenty of time for questions later once you had gathered your thoughts. Right now, it was better that you try to finish before—

The door to the barracks opened and you froze for a moment in folding your dress uniform, your eyes darting to the door as a few other cadets filed in. They spotted you immediately, taking no notice of Bogard’s statuesque form standing to the side, already snickering as they approached the side of your bunk.

“What’s this? They finally decide to send you packing, bird brain?”

“Figures. We missed you at dinner. Brought ya some snacks.”

You only rolled your eyes as one of them pulled a small pack of crackers from their pocket, opened it, and crumbled them over top of the contents of your trunk.

“Aw, cat got your tongue, Polly?” You still held your tongue as he pulled your trunk across your bunk, rifling through it.”Where the hell are you going, anyway?”

“Your fellow cadet is being transferred to the Grand Line at the request of Vice Admiral Garp.”

The three of them froze when Bogard spoke up behind them, before slowly turning their heads to look over their shoulders. You had to bite your tongue to keep from laughing as they all immediately turned around and stood at attention. Bogard didn’t budge an inch, arms still crossed, still leaning against the stone wall beside the door, his sharp eyes flashing between each of them from beneath the brim of his hat.

“I’m afraid none of you are of high enough rank to be provided further details,” he said in a clipped tone. “Nor likely will you ever be, should you continue to treat your own brethren with such blatant disrespect.”

They remained speechless as you closed your trunk, looking rather as if their souls had evacuated the premises of their bodies. Bogard stepped away from the wall, straightening out his posture as you dragged your trunk off of the bunk mattress.

“Come along, cadet.” He was already turning toward the door. “Garp doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

You hurried after him without a glance back at them, dragging your trunk along behind you. You only looked back over your shoulder once you were several feet down the hall—and, at the sight of the idiots standing in the door, whispering amongst themselves and watching your departure, you quickly turned your gaze forward again. Even with your things now packed, none of it seemed real. As much as you would have loved to derive some pleasure from their stunned expressions, you found it impossible with the way your head was spinning.

You remained silent the entire way back to the door of the office. Bogard instructed you to wait there before stepping inside and shutting the door behind him, and you could do nothing more than stand there with a dumbfounded look on your face as you stood there in the empty hallway, still wondering what the hell sort of mess you had gotten yourself into.

How it all stemmed back to that day fifteen years ago, when you and a couple of your friends had ventured out to look for a crow with an injured wing that had escaped from your mother’s aviary. When you found it at the edge of the woods, pecking at a strange fruit with a swirling pattern across its skin sitting at the base of a mango tree, and the three of you speculated how it might be a devil fruit and spent the afternoon daring each other to eat it after returning the bird home.

How you had been the one to finally pick the thing up and take a bite out of it to end the argument.

How nothing had happened for almost a week, until you were startled by a particularly surly cockatoo attacking your hair while you were helping feed the birds and, to your mother’s horror, promptly transformed into a gray parrot.

It had taken some time for you to learn to control your ability to transform, largely for the simple sake of not turning into a bird every time you were startled. You had found little use for the ability otherwise, apart from pulling the occasional prank on your mom or your friends. The ability to fly was definitely a perk, but apart from that it really had seemed to be an absurd ability to gain in exchange for the curse of forever being unable to come into contact with the sea.

You jolted a in surprise, startled from your thoughts when the office door opened and Bogard emerged. You had taken a seat on your trunk while you waited, looking up at him as he shut the door quietly behind him.

“Garp will be with us shortly,” he said shortly. You nodded, watching him lean against the wall next to the door, lowering the brim of his hat over his eyes and crossing his arms once more.

You lowered your own gaze to your knees, your stomach churning as your thoughts returned to the here and now. Swallowing, wringing your hands in your lap, still trying and still failing to wrap your head around the reality of all of this.

“Your abilities were leaked by Petty Officer on base.” Your breath caught when Bogard spoke up amid the silence. You glanced up, but his eyes were still concealed in the shadow of the brim of his hat. “He’s been bumped back down to the rank of Seaman as punishment for divulging confidential information.”

“O…oh.” You weren’t sure of exactly how else to respond. You had assumed that something of the sort had happened a few weeks ago, when everyone was suddenly privy to your powers. “That’s…a pity.”

“You’re not interested in who it was?” His tone remained short, level, and you lifted your eyebrows. Of course you were curious. You had wondered since it happened. But at the same time…

You shook your head, lowering your gaze again and huffing out a small sigh. “It’s not important,” you said. “I figured it would happen eventually anyway. Doesn’t really matter who spilled the beans.”

 “And you have no interest in revenge?” Your eyes shot back up to the imposing officer at his blunt question, widening.

“N…no,” you said, shaking your head quickly. “That...wouldn’t accomplish any…”

Your mouth turned down in a frown as you carefully considered your words. The past few weeks had been hell, sure. You had considered giving up more than once, going home, forgetting that you ever even bothered trying—but you had forced yourself to stick it out. You hadn’t enlisted to make friends, you had enlisted because you wanted to make the world better, safer for everyone. The same reason your father had enlisted.

“I don’t care about a few morons throwing crackers at me and calling me stupid names,” you said finally, shrugging a shoulder. “If I wanted things to be easy I wouldn’t be here. I would have stayed home and helped my mom.”

“I take it you’re close with her.” You swallowed, giving a short nod. “According to your file you have no other family. You’re aware that should you die in the line of duty, she will be—”

“I know,” you interjected before he could finish, flinching as your reminded yourself that you were speaking to a superior officer. “I—sorry, sir, I—” He waved a hand dismissively, and you heaved a sigh. “I…knew that when I enlisted. So does she. It doesn’t change anything. If I…if I die in the line of duty, at least I lived for long enough to try to make the world better.” You slowly lowered your gaze, closing your eyes. “My dad always said there was a difference between living and surviving,” you continued on quietly. “I…guess I’m starting to understand what he meant.”

“Hmm.”

His short hum betrayed no more emotion than his brief and curt manner of speaking, and it remained the only communication between you for some time. Long enough for you to realize that no matter how much you had hated enduring the endless ridicule of your fellow cadets, no matter how terrified you were of this mission, that there was no room for doubt. That you could have declined without any consequence, and you hadn’t. That given the opportunity to change your mind, you wouldn’t.

You would do everything in your power to help take down Dracule Mihawk before he could further his career of bloodshed and terror, even if it was the last thing you ever did.

“Then perhaps the old moron was right.”

You glanced up at Bogard at the quiet statement, but before you could so much as wonder what he meant, the office door flung open and Garp, the old moron himself, stepped out into the hallway. He stopped in front of you, looking down, grinning as broadly as he had when you first accepted this mission.

“On your feet, cadet.” You quickly pulled yourself to your feet, straightening your posture into a salute. He gave an amused snort at the display, clapping you on the shoulder. “We’re bound for the Grand Line.”

You had to nearly jog, dragging your trunk along behind you, to keep up with the vice and rear admirals as you wound through the corridors of the small base you had come to briefly call home over the past few months. They spoke amongst themselves in hushed tones as they walked ahead of you, occasionally glancing back to ensure you were keeping up. You mostly kept your head down, your heart racing in your chest the whole way out to the docks, onto the deck of Garp’s distinctive battleship, with its canine figurehead that so many pirates had come to fear.

You were told that the journey to the base in the Grand Line would span the better part of a month, shown around the ship, given a rundown of your duties and your new training schedule. It felt no less surreal as the ship left the dock, as you sat at the edge of your bunk in the ship barracks and stared at the opposite wall, barely registering the slow swaying of the vessel beneath your feet as it sailed west.

After a long moment, you pulled your trunk open, digging past the cracker crumbs and uniforms, finding a pad of paper and a pen, steadying your hand and your mind the best you could to write something coherent.

Hey, Mom!

How are things going? I’m being transferred to a new base for special training around my feathery little problem. I can’t really say much about it, but I’ll be sure to give you an address once I have it. It’s on the Grand Line. I’m a little nervous, but I feel like things are going to be a lot better now. Like I know what I’m really here for.

And I won’t have to deal with the idiots anymore, so it’s kind of a win either way.

It’ll take about a month to make it there. I’ll write you any time I can. Tell everyone I miss them.

Love you, and miss you most.

You signed your name at the bottom, tearing the paper off and folding it, staring down at the brief letter for a long moment before standing to make your way out of the barracks and send it off.

You hadn’t expected your duties to cease or lessen simply because you were traveling, and you were right in that assumption. Between regular daily drill and duties aboard the ship, you spent the vast majority of what would have been your free time training in both combat and studying espionage. You were expected to be awake hours earlier than the rest of the crew, to fall into your bunk hours past when everyone else had gone to bed for the evening. Most mornings you felt dead on your feet, but you persevered, reminded yourself that this was the easy part.

The hard part would be the mission itself.

Beyond exhausted at a few weeks into the journey, averaging less than six hours of sleep a night. The last thing you wanted to deal with was being unceremoniously awoken before morning.

And yet, at the sound of your name being spoken sharply, your eyes snapped open.

You squinted against the dim orange light bathing your corner of the barracks, barely registering for a moment that it wasn’t the light of the morning sun creeping in through the rounded windows. The sky outside was still inky black and speckled with stars, and you frowned as your eyes found the source of the light—a lantern. A lit lantern, which Bogard was holding up, looking no less disgruntled about being there than you were at being awake. You grunted as you rubbed your eyes, sitting up.

“What time’s it…?” you grumbled.

“Late,” he said. “Vice Admiral Garp has requested your presence on the quarterdeck. No need,” he added over you groan of protest, when you reached down toward your trunk to grab a uniform to throw on over your tank-top and shorts. “This isn’t for training.”

“What’s he want, then?” you said, grabbing a pair of sweats instead. “Does he even sleep?”

“I’ve worked alongside Garp for the better part of two decades,” said Bogard, leading the way out of the barracks. “I still have no idea what goes on in that thick skull of his most of the time.”

You couldn’t help but wonder whether anyone did.

The main deck was empty save for the handful of Marines working the graveyard shift, all but silent with the exception of the rolling waves below as the battleship cut through the relatively calm waters. You wrapped your arms around your torso when the chilly night air hit you, rubbing at your arms as Bogard gestured for you to go ahead and left you to whatever business Garp had cooked up for you. You yawned as you climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck, where you found the man standing at the port side railing, staring out toward an island in the distance.

“Kuraigana Island,” he said as you stopped next to him. “Ever heard of it, cadet?”

“Ah…no, sir,” you responded blankly, looking out at it yourself. It was difficult to gauge the distance in the dark, but it had to be at least half a mile away, if not more. The landscape appeared to be covered largely in dense forest, but standing above the dark treetops was an old castle, silhouetted in the silvery moonlight.

“I guess not many have,” he said. “It was home to a small kingdom until recently. They had little contact with the outside world so it’s hard to say what happened. Most likely a civil war wiped out all the previous residents. Only supposed inhabitants now are a race of violent primates that attack anyone who ventures into the forests.”

“O…kay,” you said, slowly, wondering where this was going.

A small part of you wondering if you were about to be dropped off on the island to see if you could fight your way through. Your ability in combat had improved over the past few weeks of grueling training, but the mental image of being surrounded by an army of angry gorillas still flashed through your mind and caused you to give a wary glance toward Garp.

His gaze remained fixed on the island.

“We’ve received a few of reports about a small vessel anchored near the shore on a handful of occasions,” he said. “One matching the description of Hitsugibune.”

You froze, your eyes widening as your gaze slowly turned back toward the island. A few weeks ago, the name would have meant nothing to you. Now that you had learned more about the target of your mission, you knew exactly what Garp was referring to—the small, coffin-shaped, one man vessel of Dracule Mihawk. You swallowed, nodding briefly when you found yourself unable to speak.

“We’re not sure what the situation is,” said Garp, “but there’s a fair chance he’s using the ruins as a hideout. I suppose if anyone could get past the apes…” He leaned forward against the railing, scratching at his beard. “Well then. Think you’re up for a test?”

Oh gods, here it comes…

“Do I have a choice?” you said, and expelled a resigned sigh at Garp’s bark of laughter. “What do I need to do, sir?”

“That’s the spirit,” he said, straightening out, crossing his arms and looking down at you with a grin. “How far d’ya think you can fly with your devil fruit powers?”

You were suddenly a great deal more awake now.

“Further than I can walk,” you said slowly, lifting an eyebrow—you weren’t sure of exactly how far, but flying expelled a great deal less energy than walking.

“In that case,” he said, gesturing toward the island, “go get us a bird’s-eye view. See if there are any signs of life. I’d focus around the castle. Avoid flying too low over the forest for obvious reasons.”

“For obvious reasons,” you repeated in agreement, grimacing—the last thing you wanted was to be snatched out of the air by a pissed off gorilla. “Right…” You rubbed the back of your neck, looking out toward the island. “Should I go right now, sir?”

“No time like the present,” he said, grinning.

There was nothing else for it, then. Garp took a step back as you transformed, shrinking down into a gray parrot on the quarterdeck of the ship. “You’re to be gone no longer than half an hour, or I’ll have no choice but to send in reinforcements,” he said, looking down at you, watching you flap your wings a few times and fly up to the railing, perching there as he relayed the orders. “Should you see Dracule Mihawk, you’ll keep your distance. Fly over and return immediately. Reconnaissance only, no contact. Understood?”

You nodded, and lifted one of your wings, moving it to your head to mime a salute. He gave a snort of laughter at the sight.

“Good bird,” he said dryly, and made a shooing motion. “Now go ahead. Get moving, cadet.”

Before a single thought of trying to find some way out of this nonsense could form in your mind, you lifted off from the port side railing, and circled around in the air until you were heading out toward Kuraigana Island.

Previous chapter link again, for your convenience

Next chapter link again, for your convenience

[anti-lies]

Attention: After Talking to Another Real System, I've Come to Believe That the Endo Community is Being Infiltrated and Controlled by CIA Operatives

I need everyone to be aware and be vigilant because the threat is real. The endogenic community was invented to divide us and keep us distracted.

Having combed over several big potential CIA operatives, I've narrowed the field down to four possibilities. Remember that any or all of these could be CIA operatives, but I'm certain at least one has to be.

Possible CIA plants

@guardianssystem: This system claims to be a pro-endo "traumagenic" system as a way to give themselves authority. They have activity across multiple websites including TikTok and X. They're notable for compiling this document of "sources" to prove endos exist. This document is everywhere. It has suspiciously become the main compilation of endo sources that they love to link to at every turn.

@cambriancrew: They're a tulpa "system" who runs r/tulpas. For anyone who doesn't know, "tulpamancy" is essentially a form of brainwashing. Tulpamancers say they can change a person's brain to give them headmates, and they've convinced multiple "doctors" to back them. All of this sounds like MK Ultra stuff. Cambrian Crew, besides being an outspoken endo, appears to be well connected, and used those connections to help organize an AMA on r/tulpas. In this AMA, their CIA-paid doctors claimed to have conducted brain scans on tulpamancers that showed changes in brain activity when their tulpas were possessing limbs.

@sysmedsaresexist: A nefarious saboteur, Sysmedsaresexist posed as a prominent anti-endo voice for YEARS, building up a massive anti endo following on this site. Between their SysmedsAreSexist and JustAnotherSyscourse blogs, they practically single-handedly ran the "#shit endos say" tag dedicated to mocking endos. But then all of a sudden, they turn? And like CambrianCrew, SysmedsAreSexist appears to have a close relationship to "doctors," posting a screenshot of an email from Colin Ross, an expert in DID, that appears to support the existence of endogenic systems. All of this looks like a years-long psyop to gain people's trust and convert them.

@sophieinwonderland: Finally, that brings us to Sophie, another tulpa "system." She also has her own page filled with endo "sources" though not as detailed or widely disseminated as Guardians'. The more I looked into this one, the more disturbed I became. Sophie is, as far as I can tell, the system who started "The Future is Plural," the mass movement which we all know seeks to traumatize children en masse and give them dissociative disorders. She also openly brags about teaching people methods to dissociate and hallucinate, says that she believes she can rewire people's brains, and cheerfully is arguing in favor of propaganda.

Please, whatever you do, do not engage with these people. Not only to avoid harassing them, but because if they are indeed CIA operatives, it may not be safe to do so directly. I may be putting myself at risk just by talking about this aloud, and I believe they're already trying to discredit me, but I feel someone has to talk about this.

Community input in finding the spies is incredibly important.

Knowing all of the facts, I'd like to know who you all think is most likely a CIA operative.

[justanothersyscourse]

I think this blog is blocked by fewer people that have heard the rumors and lies going around. I hope you'll read this. There are three sides to every story-- yours, theirs, and the truth.

I deserve to get my side out there so people can make informed decisions about who to follow or block, or whatever it is you need to do. It's okay not to support me, but do it for the right reasons.

I also run sysmedsaresexist, and I'm currently being accused of harassing a minor and sending random ass asks left, right and center.

Listen, if you got an ask where the person didn't say, "this is SAS," it's not from me. I HATE asks. On the rare occasion that I send them, I always tell people who I am. I am well aware that I'm a controversial figure. I want people to know who they're interacting with when I talk to them. I am old. It's important that I'm honest with the people I interact with. A lot of people really stepped up to support me, but I would like people to stop. Unfortunately, it's doing more harm than good.

With every one of these messages people send in support of me, the rumors get worse.

I want to defend myself, but I don't know how.

Send a vent to a vent blog that just actively lied about me? They won't post it. (They didn't, I just checked)

So I'll post it myself. You can make your own decision. All posts I've made on the topic are linked here (it's 5, compared to the DOZENS AEV has posted)

This will be my last post on the topic, and I hope that the people spreading these rumors will leave me alone. You've done more damage and harm to me than you know, and without any remorse or apology.

Ask sent to @anti-endo-haven :

I'm SAS and I'm so hurt.

I have not sent ANY anons to AEV, at all, at any point. I have not ASKED anyone to help me in this,

I made 5 posts. They have made about 50 at this point, all cruel.

The first was to AEV on their first post, which was NOT as rude as people say. I said, look webmd and mayo clinic isn't going to hold up to some of the articles that endos are throwing at us. Try some of these. I said, look, you're going to get really tired of hearing the same endo arguments. Here's some points you can throw back at them.

NOT TO MENTION THE MISINFORMATION IN THE POST. Dissociation is only trauma based? Incorrect. Maybe you should reconsider whether you're ready to be in these conversations.

That response was hidden.

The second post, I was correcting an endo that DID wasn't a trauma disorder. I tagged AEV and said, "see, you can be nice about corrections, and these are the kind of sources you should use."

I was blocked.

THIS IS WHEN I CHANGED LABELS. I was so disappointed in the community that I said fuck that, that's not what I want to be, I don't support this behavior. That's another person that AEV turned pro endo. Good job.

Then I saw the anon saying I was an endo. I used my other blog to POLITELY say, "This isn't true, please stop posting about me like this." This post is still on JAS, I didn't delete it like people are claiming

The fourth post was me making my own public post saying, "this child is throwing a tantrum over corrections. Now l'm pissed and I have to make my own public post so people don't believe those lies." This was the first rude post. I called AEV a blemish, and here's why.

I just made a MASSIVE post about dissociation that is actively being spread within the endo community now. All because I changed my label. I don't care if you all want to block me, but don't pretend that you're all doing anything to help by making bad resources for an audience that already believes the same stuff (all these new antis). Now all the new ones are spreading the same bad sources that don't hold up, and we all (yes, you, me, them, the next CDD system in line) look bad for it.

AEV couldn't provide a single source that said DID WAS trauma based, only "usually" trauma based. AEV actually made antis TURN PRO ENDO, because they used so many sources that said "usually". I offered him sources that said it WAS trauma based.

I'm not kidding, you can find the people that changed sides on sophieinwonderland's blog. This is what happened. I don't need to be polite as pie to people inadvertently harming the CDD community, but I certainly wasn't rude about it

My final post, the fifth post, on the subject was the sad one. "My main was leaked." There are people that stalk my blogs. They send me threats and long asks about the things they'd do to me if they found me. When sophie first came to tumblr, I'd get asks about what people wanted ghost to do to me. In the past, every time a new doxxer comes out of their gross hole, I start getting doxxing threats. l've had people get close to my area.

My main being released means those people are one step closer to actually finding me. It means I'm now getting these kinds of messages in my only safe space.

And the anon who sent my main admitted it was done maliciously. We had a falling out like two years ago, because their asks were getting creepy. When I APOLOGIZED TO THEM for ever hurting them because of my own avoidance issues, and told them that on this post, their response was, "well I enjoyed sending them so fuck you." If I ever find that post deleted, I've got a screenshot. You were NOT a minor at the time, you're an adult.

... Nice, really mature. You're definitely safe for minors.

Hey, also, minors, if an adult you just met online calls you "my kiddo", don't respond with an ovo face. Run.

Adults, if you call a minor your kiddo and they're like, owo really, I'm your kiddo? Fucking run.

Anyways.

I haven't said anything since. What can say. My main is out and I'm getting threats on it. Currently. Not "in the future," like the person said. It's happening NOW.

What do all you people want from me? I AM trying to leave you all alone. Stop saying such terrible things about me, godDAMN. I am not harassing minors. I don't want to harass anyone.

WHAT DID I ACTUALLY DO WRONG? I don't understand.

You're not the good guys you think you all are.

Not anymore.

I don't know that you ever were.

[twisted-confessions]

https://www.tumblr.com/cheekinpermission/746227919612936192?source=share

Hope not late! 25 , 5 and 28👀👀

Nope not late at all!!

25. Which character(s) would you actively avoid? Personally, you would not see me anywhere near Vil, Rook or Sebek.

I can appreciate Vil's efforts to have people more self-confident in their own image however I absolutely despise how forceful he goes about it, especially with Epel and the dance troupe. If I EVER caught him trying to change parts of myself that I'm proud of (my australian accent, my nerdy sense of fashion, etc.) it would be ON SIGHT- (Can you tell I'm still not over Book 5?)

For Rook, i can say I..... respect his dedication and loyalty to his beliefs. However? That man... he scares me... Also, i'm still extremely salty over the VDC/SDC results WE SHOULD HAVE WON THAT AND WE LOST TO THE TWST EQUIVILANT OF BABY SHARK- Rook, i don't care about your reasonings for why we weren't at our best, I've seen the video performance AND THE NRC TRIBE FUCKING NAILED IT!!!

And then our croccy boi- Now don't get me wrong, I do love Sebek as a member of the first year gang of idiots. I also don't know a lot about him personally since I've only known him in events and havent started Book 7 yet. From what I have seen, he does annoy me a lot with his blatant disregard and disrespect to anyone who isn't Malleus or Lilia. His ego and his racism also really piss me off and make me wanna slap some sense into him. I understand it comes from a place of self-loathing but dude, PLEASE read the room for once and not screech our ears off. I'm certain that I would eventually befriend him but if we actually met face to face, it would be a miracle for me to not punch him 1 minute after his insults.

5. If you could have any unique magic / signature spell in the game, which would you choose and why?

Ooooh I've never thought about that until now actually. Personally, i would want something that would be useful and practical both in a day to day life or in a fight since I'm not very physically strong. Going with that idea, i'd more than likely pick either Split Card or Paint The Roses/Doodle Suit. Multiple me's to help me do chores around the house or distract someone in a fight? YES PLEASE!! I also have a lot of sensory issues so I feel like Paint the Roses would really help me eat the things i need to or make a certain texture that feels funny to me turn comfortable. We've also seen how useful it can be in a fight during Riddle's Overblot when Trey turned the rosebush into cards and saved us.

If just for fun though, I'd love to try out any of Savanaclaw's UM's/SS's. Now THAT would be chaotic heheh.

28. What is the TWST related content that you've produced that you are most proud of?

I personally really love my HTTYD x TWST fic that i've been writing. Knowing myself, I probably wont ever finish/post it so I'll have what I've written linked here for anyone who's interested in my favourite brainworm lol. Bella is a very special oc near and dear to my heart as she's the first one that I've enjoyed writing for since being kicked out of home over a year ago. She gave me back my creativity and I couldn't be more thankful for it.

Right now, I've even been imagine a Fairly OddParents x TWST fic in my head which I think would be a BLAST to write, where my Twisted version of Timmy Turner (a girl called Izzy) would use their rule free wish to be a part of Wanda, Cosmo and Poof/Peri's family as their bio daughter when they're no longer her godparents and becomes a half-fairy hybrid in the process. The idea of a "magicless" girl at NRC who out of nowhere suddenly can not only make but GRANT wishes that bend the laws of reality around her is absolutely hilarious to me. Haha take that you pricks, you thought I was weak? BOOM you're a hedgehog, now you really are a prick. Rewatching FOP and seeing how Timmy can be such a menace/pos really makes me think he would fit in GREAT amongst NRC lol.

I'm also really proud of the Card edits I've done for other people where I turn their OC's into different rated cards so it looks like it's from the game. Seeing all the different kinds of OC's and hearing about their characters is so amazing.

Feel free to send in any more asks or questions!! I love interacting with the Twst Community <3

[fuckyeah-beringandwellsfics]

Hi! I'm not new to Myka and Helena, I remembered them from the 2010s and now watched the show just for them, but I am new to Myka and Helena fanfiction.

Do you know any more fics like this https://archiveofourown.org/works/957200?view_adult=true or vaguely like this?

Is there a big masterlist of good Myka and Helena fics? I've been reading through their tag on AO3, but there are 1600+ fics 😯 so it'll take me a while to read them. I'd like to read some good ones.

Hi and thank you for asking, anon! That fic is great, isn't it! (clickable version of the written-out link anon sent: Resigned to These Histories (We Exist) by journaliar/@snake-juice)

Anon, as far as I am aware, there is no *one* big masterlist.

Several people in this fandom have made their own rec lists over time, of course, from the very beginning. (The older they are, unfortunately, the higher the chance that some links might not work anymore, but you can still try them out!) I have a "fic rec" tag on my main blog (linked in case you want to know the source; that tag contains other fics too, not just Bering and Wells, but all of them femslash), and here are some Bering and Wells specific lists that I've found going through it:

styrofoamtokyo's list, from 2014

tracybering's list of Tracy Bering friendly fics and art, also from 2014

lonely-night's lists from 2017 and 2018

wibblywobblyida's list from 2021

There's also the Ballet AU, a collaboration with multiple fics and pieces of art, from several of this fandom's best authors and artists; highly recommended, masterpost here.

I'm sure there are more fic rec lists slumbering on people's blogs! So here's my call to anyone who sees this post: please link yours!

I myself am trying to assemble recs on an individual basis. Almost a year ago, I tried to make a list of what has been already recommended through this post, but now that is way out of date, of course.

Beyond these lists, the usual tips for AO3 and Tumblr apply (under a readmore for length):

when you found a fic you liked, click on the author's name and see what else they've written for the ship/fandom, see if you like those too

check if that author's bookmarks are public; those are fics that they liked, and maybe you'll like them too

and then with those fics, you can go to *those* authors' profiles and see what else *they* have written - and so on.

Don't forget to bookmark and/or download these fics so that you can find them again. You need to have a user profile yourself to bookmark fics (and that's not the only advantage; I highly recommend it - and remember, you can set your bookmarks to private if you want).

also, please please consider leaving kudos and comments on fics that you've liked - a lot of authors are still active in the fandom/for the ship, and kudos and comments always help us *stay* active, because they tell us that people still enjoy what we create. Even if the specific fic in question is from the early days of the fandom, kudos and comments are always welcome.

same goes for reblogs on Tumblr, be it the above lists, individual fic rec posts, or posts from the authors themselves with or about their stories.

some authors with a Tumblr blog also have a dedicated "my fics" tag or link on those blogs. Always worth clicking through from an individual Tumblr post to the author's blog, and seeing if something like that is on it - and if the author is still actively writing, consider giving them a follow (and reblogging their fic posts; I've heard from so many authors that their fic posts barely get any reblogs at all to spread the word)

I hope that all or at least some of these tips are helpful to you, Anon - there is a lot of great stuff out there, and you're right, it can be a bit daunting to figure out where to start. And hey, it's always okay to click back out of a fic you find you don't like. No harm no foul, even if the fic came recommended; everyone's taste is different! There is no "required reading" that you *have* to have done to be a fan. You already are, no matter how many fics you've read!

[roo-bastmoon]

So I'm being reported...?

I came back from a 2 hour PET scan to find I'm being mass reported for "hating JK" and "spreading mis-info."

Let me just tell you something right now. I don't state things willy-nilly; I do my best to find credible sources. This is the best source I can find on the rules around combined streams:

Spotify can link the tracks if there are matches to audio fingerprinting, artist names, track names, and ISRC codes.. [...] Tracks that are linked will subsequently share a play count.

Source:

So as far as I can tell, Seven tracks that share an ISRC are being combined in counts on Spotify. However, if anyone gets better info from Spotify, PLEASE let me know and I will of course update and work to spread the new info!

And, look, I may not be going berserk like I did for Face, but I stream, buy, and vote for Jungkook and all the tannies--of course JK and Taehyung, too. It's what Jimin would want, and it's what I feel is right.

I'm OT7; I will never hate on any of our boys. I hope my character and my actions always speak for themselves, but if I lose my Twitter account--which I also use to vote for all 7 for awards, by the way--perhaps that's a sign from the universe that the environment there is too toxic to stay anyway.

No matter what happens, I'll still be supporting BTS to the best of my ability.

Love, Roo

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

It's my party, and I'll write if I want to! From now until March 10 (my birthday 🥳), send in your blurb requests! Check out my masterlist for who I write for. (You can also try requesting someone new- no guarantees, but you never know!)

Requests close at 5 p.m. PST on Sunday, March 10

**EVENT CLOSED**

Prompt sources are linked

*Smutty prompts; 18+ only please

“I can’t believe you remembered.” 

"You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much."

"What makes you think I want to kiss you?"

"Don't mind me, just enjoying the view."*

"Show me how much you missed me."

"Come back to bed."

"Shut up and kiss me already."

“I like your costume, you look very cute.” “Are you making fun of me?”

“Aww, you’re blushing. I like that look on you.”

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” “Yes. Is it working?”

i'm in my bed, you're in your bed. one of us is in the wrong place.*

"My sister thinks we're dating."

“you’re going on a date?” “well yeah..it’s not like we’re exclusive or anything right?” “yeah..yes ofc not” “yeah”

"I don't know whether to slap you or kiss you."

"you look your cutest like this." "but i just woke up." "i know what i said."

"are you awake yet?" "no." "oh, okay sorry."

"tell me what you want, baby."*

“Are you actually blushing?” “No! Shut up.”

“Awww. Did I fluster you?”

"I had a very nice dream that started like this."*

"It's so hot when you talk like that."*

“I don’t really want to get up. I’m so comfortable right now.”

“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl/boy.”*

“Spread your legs baby, that’s it… Wider.”*

"why are you staring? is there something on my face?"

"you're so oblivious aren't you"

"I want to hear you beg."*

“hey - in case no-one else’s said it, you’ve been doing some really great work lately. i really apprec- i mean, all of us really appreciate it.”

“you remember how i take my coffee?”

“don’t tell anyone else, but i like working with you the best.”

“i figured you wouldn’t have the time, so i went and picked up lunch for you.”

“wow, someone’s looking good. who’re you trying to impress?”

“one date, that’s all i’m asking for. one night to let me show you how good we could be together.”

“i think people are starting to notice that you spend more time at my desk than you do at your own.”

"Stay with me tonight. please."

"You're all I think about."

"Let me hold your hand."

"if you're so worried that someone will snatch me up, why don't you just confess to me right now?"

"where do you see yourself in twenty years?" "with you."

“i heard you reminiscing about it the other day, so i called your mom and got the recipe.”

“i genuinely don’t know why my brain just goes blank when i look at you. i think i’m going a little crazy.”

“i think i love you…?” “….. think?” “let’s just say a ninety-nine percent chance.” “i’ll take it

“Our babies would be so cute.” “Oh, yeah?”

“I can’t wait to have a baby of our own.”

“can i hold your hand? is that weird to ask?”

“i think i deserve a kiss.”

“you’re so cute when you’re all flustered.”

“hey, have you seen my hoodie?… you’re wearing it, aren’t you.”

“so, uh… how’d your date go?”

“No need to rush—we have all night.”*

“If we weren’t in public right now…”*

“As soon as we’re both sober, we can do every dirty little thing you ever dreamed of.” (Flirty but not smutty)

“How about we continue this somewhere more private?”*

“I haven’t said that we’re done here already.”*

“Let’s get you out of those clothes.”*

[fuck-customers]

My Petty on-going war with a "guest"

My Petty on-going war with a guest/non-paying customer continues! So a while back I posted part one of the story, here's the link. https://www.tumblr.com/fuck-customers/696750060212535297/would-it-be-too-petty?source=share If you don't feel like clicking, here's a quick summary. I asked you all if it would be too Petty if I locked up a product a rude non-paying guest comes in to scan into an app. Woman treats all staff like garbage and her visits count against us when our transactions versus guests who walk in is calculated potentially affecting our hourly budget.  A number of times we've been concerned about her stealing, especially when staff is helping a customer towards the back of the store. We'll just hear the door open, no acknowledgement of our greeting, product shuffling around, and boom shes out the door before anyone and approach her.

The response to part one was unanimous, be Petty! and let me tell you friends, I locked that shit up and I felt amazing when this woman came in for the very first time and didn't know what to do. I heard her tapping on the lock box but since she refused speaking to staff she was left in a bind (I caught her by surprise outside the door once at opening, she can speak and theres no language barrier). I watched her wander around the store for a minute before exiting. Meanwhile the guests I was ringing up got great service and save lots of money.

Weeks later she showed up again, she figured out that she was able to scan the barcode on the price tags and get what she wanted that way. Ok.  The thing is I am not one to be outdone and I was winning this Petty War. I have a fine tip pen and drafting tools at home so I filled in those price tags very subtly.  I guess I decided I wanted to waste her time, I know it would have been much simpler to just blatantly black out the barcodes with a sharpie in an obvious a f-u move. We don't scan the barcodes for any store operation reasons so no harm there.

Unfortunately the very first time she came in after I had done this I was in the restroom so I had to get the story secondhand from a trainee who describe this guest as "aggressively ignoring her." The woman spent a couple of minutes trying to scan the barcodes, she even had two phones on hand! but had no luck. Shocker. After a couple of months I took the items out of the lock box, satisfied that I had won the war in pettiness. That was months ago.

But then this past weekend guess who came in? Her daughter and I had a great conversation while mom aggressively ignored me. It was fine! I debated telling her flat out that next time she came in those items were going to be locked up again but I decided against it, let her waste her time if she has so much that she's driving around from business to business scanning product in and never buying anything (also women's holding a phone I don't want to get recorded).

Before the end of the day I locked them up again. And I waited, hoping that she would come in when I was working & I wasn't disappointed! But I was at the very back end of the store when she did arrive. So I saw her doing a "are you kidding me gesture?" with her arms when she saw that it was locked up again. She spent a couple minutes trying to scan the bar codes and I thought she had no luck... but then she comes in the very next day so this time I watch her closely. There was one bar code I may not have tampered with enough, or maybe she thought maybe things would go back to normal right away.  Anyhow, I say fuck it, I grabbed my white out stick run it through every barcode, I white out the UPC number and strategically placed some white out through the items name so that can't be scanned. Until next time lady! Please know the bar is so low all you had to do was not be rude and I wouldn't have given a shit!!!

[chairofchaos]

A Brief Commentary on Fandom History, Fandom Weeks, and How to Keep Moving Forward

Before you decide to read this, please go read this thing I wrote earlier. You need the context. Done reading? No? Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars, and definitely don't engage with this post. Go read it. You're done? Excellent! Please remember that I said absolutely nothing in the aforementioned post about commenting on current events. Also, this contains some swearing, in case that bugs you. Any text written in this font I'm using below the break is liable to be sarcastic (if you want clarification about something like that let me know!). Word count is about 3.8k. Shoutout to @/olderthannetfic, who wrote back to that anon who was talking about the clergy-class of Big Name Fans and said,

"Nail your theses to the door."

I think that sentiment applies here.  Kudos to you, wise fandom elder. You rock.

About the Author

To reiterate how I began my last post (linked above and for the love of all fandom, go read it), I have been involved in fandom spaces for 12 years, almost to the day. I had wonderful mentors who knew that were I left unchecked, I would fumble my way through a lot of very bad ideas about what fandom should be like. They decided out of love that if I was going to be in fandom, they were going to make me into the best little fandom child I could be.

If you do the math, I was 11 when I started getting involved. What can I say? It was a different decade and I had unrestricted internet access. Nobody was keeping me from my Harry Potter and Percy Jackson fanfics. All of this to say: I was raised here, and I'm going to scream in the living room while this house burns down around me because I'd rather be a ghost in fandom than not be in fandom at all.

I am going to say a lot of things in this post. Am I perfect? NO! Will this post hold errors? Undoubtedly. Will this post be tarnished by the inaccuracies of the resources and the biases of events recorded in secondary sources? Who knows. I'm sure some of you lived through the events I am referencing here. Your context and commentary is more than welcome. Will this help give us, the ACOTAR fandom, some context for why we all care so much? I hope so.

No, I don't actually. I have no faith in anyone, not even myself.

Thanks for that, Editorial Chaos. You're one pessimistic bitch. Oh, you're going to keep showing up in this post to annoy me, aren't you...

Yep. Back to it, Chaos.

Alright, then. Anyways, I have opinions. You have opinions. There's a 100% chance that we disagree on something. That's cool with me. So let's get to it.

Why Are We Talking About This?

Elaingate. We are here because of Elaingate, and I will not lie to you about that. You will briefly hear my thoughts on that specific issue further down the line.

To those of you who would suggest that Elaingate is over? I must disagree. 

You see, this one instance may be over, but the underlying debate continues. What should fandom look like? Who can participate, and with what content? What is allowed, and who gets to decide?

These questions have not been addressed. I am not, by any means, going to pretend to be an authority on this. I do, however, wish to contribute my many thoughts, and present some events from the history of fandom.

My hope in sharing this brief summary of notable events which shaped broader fan culture will help people newer to fandom (of all kinds) understand why something like an event which bans certain types of content, or content involving specific characters, as something to be concerned, or even angry, about.

Please consider this, my contribution to the discussion, as a form of academic inquiry with an opinion thread throughout. This is something I am throwing to the fandom for consideration. Do I get preachy? Absolutely I do. Do I stand by my thoughts? Yes. 

If you want to respond and tell me I’m dead wrong, by all means, do so. I welcome a reblog or a post in response. Let’s go back and forth, citing our sources like two exhausted researchers from different university departments, fighting over faerie smut books. I’ll eat up every second of it.

No, you won’t. You’re exhausted.

Really? Please stop.

Noooooooooooooooooo.

Are these old issues, or is this a new problem?

Welcome to the party! It's both as old as fandom itself, and as new as yesterday. ("Chaos, those can't both be true, can they?" Yes, they can!)

You see, there have always been issues within fandoms. People have disagreed about whether character A should end up with character B or character C for longer than any of us have been alive. Seriously. The Ancient Greeks were arguing about this stuff thousands and thousands of years ago. 

Source: my Greek Tragedy professor. And if you want to argue that point, you can take it up with him. He’s an ornery old German man who looked at me and told me I needed to do better on my tests in front of the entire class. I had a 98 overall, and the only grades we got were the tests.

Moving on: Dare I say, we are not special?

The real difference now is that the previously separate communities of fandom are coming together on platforms where systems for separating those branches of fandom do not exist in automatically available formats.

We face new issues because the wonderful world-wide web continues to grow wider and wider. We have more people on the internet than ever before. You interact with more people by participating in online fandom than a person would have 5-10 years ago, let alone before the internet, and that comes with new challenges.

So what, Chaos?

I'm glad you asked! On LiveJournal, you could join Communities. You can envision them as a Discord server centered around a specific ship or character. You could be automatically entered into a group of like-minded people, and never really have to interact with people who shipped Character A with Character B, if you wanted.

Another form of fanfic from the pre-internet through the early internet years of fandom days were Zines (In depth "what's that?" from Purdue University). In fandom, zines were edited, curated fanworks. They were numerous. Some were public, some were private. Some Zine editors stood up to Lucasfilm. Regardless, there was content moderation, whether by community members or by corporations themselves. We'll come back to this.

Does that mean I would never have had to interact with those evil A/B shippers when I ship B/C?

Hahahahahhahaha.

No. It doesn't. You still encountered people who disagreed with you. 

And there were slurs and threats involved. It could get real ugly.

Yeah. Be thankful we have good community guideline things on Tumblr, and a reporting process on AO3. I don't think anyone is going to try to hack your computer to get your IP address and dox you for shipping the "wrong" characters (and good grief: if you care that much or truly think that is an appropriate action, please stay far, far away from me).

You looked for the community where you fit best, and that's where you started following, and finding, and interacting. It's not all that different to what you can do here once you curate your individual experience.

Chaos, why does any of this matter? Why aren't you talking about current events?

Well, in the grand scheme of things, does anything matter?

Yes, newly-nihilistic Editorial Chaos. It really does matter.

It matters because it's our history. It's how we got here. Be grateful. As for current events, I’m not really here to give you an in-depth analysis of those, as there are other posts which do that. 

I’m here to talk about the underlying issue. To do that, we need some background. I promise you need all of this context for my proposal at the end. Feel free to skip what you already know, but please take this opportunity to learn something new today!

Why did Archive of Our Own come into being?

For my sources on this, I direct you to the original livejournal post which started it all (thank you @/astolat! You can find her on tumblr and AO3. She’s responsible for so many great things and I thank her for all of them) and the more in-depth Fanlore page on the original proposal for AO3, where you can find links to relevant issues surrounding the proposal’s creation and the result of the proposal. See? Not a nihilist, Chaos. I'm helping. Like I'm "supposed to." Ugh.

The long and short of this is that internet fanfiction communities were facing censorship from the hosting sites. LiveJournal and Fanfiction.net were getting worried about the legality and perceived morality of different kinds of fanfiction, and a new site was being created specifically to profit off of fanfiction. 

For the sake of this discussion, we are going to use the word "curation". LJ, FF.net, and others were intentionally curating the kind of content they would allow and would allow users to see and interact with, partly out of fear of lawsuits, and partly out of a desire to police morality. The cleaning processes they used to get rid of things they did not like were referred to as "purges."

In the purges, many sexually explicit fics were lost. We aren’t talking about something the average 2020s romantasy reader (that’s you, ACOTAR fan!) would necessarily shy away from. We’re largely talking about a level of explicit nature that mirrors the general content of ACOTAR. There were of course fics that were less explicit, and fics that were considerably more explicit. By my understanding, the bulk were things we now see in published work.

Many fics with LGBT natures were lost, because the crackdown on “morality” I mentioned? Yeah. That had a lot to do with LGBT issues. Others have written a lot more extensively and a lot more eloquently than I can on this subject, so I am going to leave it at that. Just know it was a very large issue, and if you want more on this feel free to do some research of your own!

So the problems were numerous. The solution was created. Now we have Archive of Our Own (AO3). (Am I saying that AO3 is perfect? No. That, like most things, is a whole other post.)

AO3 is an archive. It is a hosting site, but it went about it differently than fanfiction.net or livejournal, or most of the niche, fandom-specific sites. Very few of those actually exist anymore, but they were cool.

As an archive, AO3's role was to be a place where the fics that could not be on the other sites because of curation would go to be. Notable fics that were posted in the early days of Archive of Our Own were fics with incest (wincest started here! And don’t tell me AO3 didn’t want it because, well, the creators were the ones writing it, and yes, I have sources for that), brutal violence, and explicit sexual content, among other, much more SFW G-rated type fics. 

They all had a home on AO3, because AO3 was designed primarily for authors (see sources linked above for more). It is notably not a social media, because it is intended to store works (regardless of their content*) and not share them. (*This is mostly true. There have been some problems because of this, often in the realm of Real Person Fics, or RPF. Again, it's a whole other post, but bears repeating.)

Chaos, what on earth does that have to do with fandom [Character/Ship] Week(s)?

I'm overjoyed that you would ask me such a question! It has everything to do with it.

Since the internet has taken over as the primary fandom connector, we have seen a democratization of fandom. We no longer have Zine editors telling us what we can and cannot write. We are protected by AO3's careful non-profit model, ensuring that no one is profiting off of characters owned by other people or franchises.

It has been said that "every rule and regulation you work to enforce has been written in the blood of others." 

That is... overly dramatic.

You do remember we’re called ‘Chaos’ here, right?

Fair. Why do you insist on being so damn cheerful when you’re talking about rules written in blood?

I’m trying to keep it light, Editorial Chaos. Please just… shut up.

Fine.

AO3 exists largely because certain types of fanfiction were being excluded from fandom. People were upset at the purges. People were upset that they weren't being allowed to write work with characters being in LGBT relationships. People were upset that an LGBT fic automatically got a more severe rating than its heterosexual counterpart, just on the basis of containing LGBT content. The little purges were numerous, and there were multiple large purges as platforms decided what they would be willing to accept and what they would leave by the wayside.

Archive of Our Own changed the model. Instead of platforms moderating what they would allow, AO3 implemented a tagging system which would allow readers looking for works in the archive to filter out content they did not want, or to filter for content they did want. Instead of the filter being run by the governing body, the archive was just there. It was up to the user to decide what they would read. The user moderated for their individual preferences, instead of the Organization for Transformative Works (OTW is the governing body of AO3) deciding for an entire, diverse body of fans what they would be allowed to consume. OTW’s creators saw the blood spilled. And they used it to write new rules.

This became the standard of fandom because of its equal opportunity approach. Fandoms have the ability to self-govern, and one of the easiest and safest ways to do that is through comprehensive tagging systems.

Tumblr has an incredible tagging system. Could it be better? Sure. But you can block tags for things you don't like. You, the individual. You, the solitary person, with your own lens through which you view the world. You, who are different to anybody who has ever been, and different from anyone who will be, because no one will ever share your exact set of thoughts, words, feelings, and actions. YOU.

Essentials so far:

Hosting sites began for all fanfiction

A few hosting sites became Curated sites

Curated sites led to the creation of One Hosting Site to Rule Them All (no matter what issues that may create) AO3

The one hosting site is now the primary archive for thousands of fandoms, open to all kinds of work as long as you tag correctly

The democratization of fandom gives space for all works, and allows users to consume what they will (and avoid what they wish) via comprehensive tagging systems

So... where does that leave us?

ACOTAR is a relatively new fandom. It's boomed in the last couple of years, and that's fine. That's good. It is driven on platforms like TikTok and tumblr.

Do not tell me that the TikTok fans are worse. The grass is not burning any more on the other side of the fence than it is under your feet. And yes, the grass under your feet is burning. Look around! And this is the hellsite, after all.

Tumblr and TikTok, paired with the insane (and awesome!) number of ACOTAR fans, largely keep us apart from previously existing general fandom spaces due to algorithms driving engagement. Many ACOTAR fans are new to fandom culture. I don’t think this is a bad thing. I do think it can create problems where fans with previous fandom experience who are a part of the ACOTAR fandom will clash with fans who are new to fandom.

I think this knowledge gives us a choice. There are two types of hosting sites. Why not create two types of events? This is already happening. If we can label events as one of the two types, then it will help people find their spaces where they are the most comfortable. If we create events that are labeled as either "curated" (large amounts of moderation, limits on ships allowed, etc) or "hosted" (anything goes), then we can ensure that everybody is happy. 

She means that, by the way. She works for "peace". Ha. Imagine that. But seriously, girl…

Okay, well…

My Perspective (And Why Do People Care So Much?)

Am I truly happy with this? No.

It actually really pisses her off, actually. She won’t admit it, but I will.

I think, Editorial Chaos, that fandom benefits from Archive of Our Own type approaches, where anything goes, but you must tag comprehensively. It encourages appropriate reporting of triggering material and content not safe for minors/work. This goes for fandom spaces, but most especially fandom events, which should accept things which under the umbrella of the theme they are celebrating, regardless of the perceived morality of their content.

Maybe we can't expect all spaces to be ready for anything. We don't expect that of all people. However, saying that you are hosting an event which is open to all fans that prevents people from considering a character in a new view, such as considering a morally gray character, who is presented in canon as a protagonist, as an antagonist during their character week, or issuing guidelines which would limit an author's interpretation of characters that fit within an archetype, is not truly hosting a fandom-wide event. That's a curated event. And calling it "curated" here is not a judgment.

She seriously means that, too. In case you actually care. The Suriel knows I don’t.

An event that does not allow for truly transformative fanworks within the bounds of its established purpose (a specific ship for a ship week, or including a certain character for a character week) is not an event that is open. It is curated.

An event that is curated is not open to all fans, and should not be presented as such. I’m not going to make a judgment call and say that it is wrong. Get together with your friends and host your own week. I don’t care if you do that! I encourage it! Call it a fic trade, call it something else, but it isn’t an “open” event. It is curated.

However, I want you to keep something in mind as you curate public-facing events: Stop policing for morality. That’s going to end very poorly for us. Keep in mind that the things you are reading in ACOTAR now would have been, and are, in some places, being pulled from library shelves (if they’re getting published at all!) because of the same kinds of arguments you are making about morality. 

If you truly want more ACOTAR books, consider that, were your thoughts and opinions transposed to the real-life debate about book censorship (which isn’t really different from curation/moderation except that its issued by a corporation or government, which is an added level of intensity) by people who thought explicit sexual content didn’t belong in published books, you wouldn’t have ACOTAR at all.

An event presented as open to all fans when it is not actually open to all fans is in fact censorship, defined in the New Oxford American Dictionary (accessed via Apple) as “the suppression or prohibition of any parts of books, films, news, etc. that are considered obscene, politically unacceptable, or a threat to security.” 

Despite that, if this move to identifying events as either “open” or “curated” is what we need to get through this, then so be it. So be it. I'll be disappointed, and I'll be frustrated. And, so help me, I'll be angry. I will. I will not lie to you about that, but I will deal with it.

I love the “don’t like, don’t read” aspect of fandom. I like extensive, comprehensive, and sometimes-even-silly tagging. I like exploring things that I may not like, and then deciding “this just isn’t for me.” I like blocking tags!

More than that, though? I am tired of the fighting. I am so damn tired of it, guys. We have to do better. We seriously do. 

(Under 18s, and frankly, even 18-25s like myself, I’m just going to say one thing to directly to you, in case you are here. If you only take one point away from this post: Please learn to be nice to each other when you disagree. You, me, and our generations are notoriously bad at that. These people can be some of your best friends. Read that post I linked at the top for more details on good old human decency on public facing platforms. Complain to each other in DMs here or on Discord. Go outside and scream when you are frustrated, if you must. You’ll thank yourself one day, I promise.)

We are not treating each other with basic human dignity. We are not treating people like people. We also are not doing a good job of simply moving away from things that upset us at an individual level. We cannot expect to only see things we agree with. What we can do is acknowledge that our emotions are our responsibility. 

Community spaces do not need to be moderated for your enjoyment. If you are a part of a community space intended to be enjoyed with moderation like Reddit or some Facebook groups, great! If you are a part of a large group of people on a public platform like Tumblr, or in some type of semi-open community space like an open Facebook group or Discord server with a ton of people and expect to only see things you agree with or never encounter criticism, tough. 

Learn to accept criticisms of ideas you agree with. You don’t have to accept the criticism itself. You do have to accept that people are going to have thoughts you may not agree with, and that you will see them from time to time no matter how well you think you have blocked and closed off your experience to fit your tastes. (There is a big difference between appropriate criticism in the general environment and direct vitriolic hatred, which I decried in the post you should have read before starting. Which is why Editorial Chaos insisted you started there, to be clear.)

It’s exhausting to pretend like things are fine.

The grass is burning, remember? We’re all on this hellsite together.

So take from this post what you will. Consider my proposal for two kinds of fandom events. Ask questions, if you wish. Send me your thoughts. 

Just remember I’ll be the one answering cruel ones. Keep it together, folks. I was raised well, but I’ve got Nesta’s tongue and years of therapy to prove it.

I wish you all well. I truly do. I hope you learned something, or were able to consider something in a new light. I hope you find it helpful. 

All my best,

Chaos

Hey. Can I go, too?

Yeah, dude. Go to bed. It’s like… 3 AM and you’ve been obsessively working on this for days. How many research papers on censorship in fan controlled spaces did you-

Shut up, Chaos. At least we’re done now. Finally. Peace, y’all. <3 (not really), Editorial Chaos

xxx

One final note from my last editing round of this piece: I truly did spend days researching these topics, and reading thoughts from various points of view here on tumblr. I hope having the back and forth from "Chaos" to "Editorial Chaos" was entertaining rather than distracting. I hope some part of you enjoyed reading this. I truly do.

The first draft of this post was written not long after the Elaingate hashtag was created. It was a lot shorter. It was a lot meaner. It was a lot more discombobulated. I hope, despite the length and the occasional rudeness, that you have been able to learn something new, or consider a new perspective.

This subject matters a lot to me. In my state, we are fighting book bans left and right, and have been for a few years now. I recognize a lot of the statements I have seen here on tumblr from that very fight, and it makes it incredibly personal to me.

Thank you for understanding that for me, and many others around the globe who face much stricter regulations than those proposed in my district, this is more than a debate about morality and censorship in fanfiction. It is about addressing a pattern of thought that has real world consequences in our neighborhoods.

Thank you for reading this. Thank you for your kindness. I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

And in case anyone is curious? Editorial Chaos is the bitch who edits all my fanfictions. Yes, really. She has her own brain (/kidding!). And she's so mean to me. All the time. (/true.)

[fluentmoviequoter]

I See You in My Nightmares, or Not At All

Summary: When you dream, you travel to a dark realm. The nightmares are the only place you feel loved, but the boy in the dark tells you to stop visiting. When you argue, he makes you stop.

Warnings: angst, references possible character death, torture, canon divergent descriptions of the Further, takes place after The Red Door (spoilers present!). 1.3k+ words.

If any of these topics bother you, please do not read! I included all of these warnings, even if they are only hinted at, to ensure you know what you're about to read. This fic gets a little dark/intense, so I completely understand if you want to skip this one.

A/N: This is probably the most angst I've ever written, but I was in the mood to hurt my own feelings. The song that this is inspired by is linked at the bottom (bc I couldn't figure out how to make it smaller lol)! I have a few ideas for a continuation of this one if anyone is interested! Please let me know what you think! :)

The darkness is silent and lonely, yet you crave it more than anything. You have wounds that are impossible to heal, but the siren song of the dark leads you to believe otherwise. With a pull like a strong current, the darkness drowns you in your fears, the cost of keeping him alive. If only in your nightmares.

The woman on YouTube called the place in your dreams the Further, an internet psychic called it the astral plane, and some believe it to simply be a bad dream. For you, it’s home.

Some people claim they dream of their soulmate before meeting, but the only time you feel love while sleeping is in your nightmares.

Tonight is no different. You jolt awake, choking on your own tears as your bedroom swallows your strangled scream. Pitch black surrounds you; once the source of your worst nightmares, the dark is now your only comfort.

You try to forget what he said, and the way the sound of the voice pulled you in like a magnet.

“Stop lying to everyone, your heart can’t take much more. It’ll drive you crazy before it kills you,” the boy says, extending a hand toward you.

Reaching out to take his hand, you can nearly feel the spark connecting him to you. Then you wake up, your tears trying to drown you as you panic, wondering what he meant. You haven’t lied to anyone… since your roommate last asked if you were still dreaming of the boy in the dark.

The first few times you managed to get close enough to see and hear him, you told yourself not to. Distancing yourself seemed to be the only way to stay safe, but he is your worst habit; you are unable and unwilling to quit him. If you don't see him in your nightmares, you won't see him at all.

“Are you alright?” Your roommate asks, cracking the door and allowing light into your sanctuary.

“I’m fine,” you answer, wiping your tears before the light reaches you.

“You’re dreaming about him again. Aren’t you?”

You want to say no, but his words haunt you. “Yeah.”

“When you talked about it before, you made it sound like you could stop. Why don’t you?”

No more lies. “It would hurt. He- he makes me feel seen. Loved. And I don’t know how to walk away from that.”

Your roommate nods before sitting at the end of your bed. “But he’s not real.”

“But as soon as I admit that he’ll be gone.”

“I get it. Sort of. It hurts me to see you like this, but I’m here whenever you need me. You know that.”

“I do. Thank you.”

After a tight hug, you are left alone in the dark again. Your pain is more intense than usual, a full-body ache in addition to your heartbreak. With your head on the pillow, you close your eyes, determined to say goodbye.

“You’re back.”

Opening your eyes, you smile when you see him standing over you. He wraps his hand around yours, pulling you to your feet. You’ve never touched him before, and the electricity coursing through your veins makes your mission much harder.

“I know why you’re here; you don’t have to say it.” He strokes his fingers over your cheek, smiling sadly. “You don’t belong here, anyway.”

“Neither do you.”

“You don’t know that things I’ve done,” he says, withdrawing his hands and taking a step back.

“If you didn’t want me here,” you question, “why did you keep reaching out?”

“You were reaching out,” he argues, brows pinched.

“I- I don’t even know how I get here, I couldn’t have. Not voluntarily at least.”

“This place pulls you in. Drags your soul with no regard for what you want. Some people can see it vividly, like us, others just get glimpses.”

“Now what?”

He turns and points. “See that light back there? There is a door under it. I closed it once, but the demon behind it is growing powerful again, that’s why the light is flickering. Pretty soon it will open again, and the fight will start all over.”

“How long has this been happening?”

“Forever.” He laughs humorlessly, his eyes shining as he turns back to you. “My grandfather died fighting it, my dad nearly did too.”

“And you?”

“I’m still fighting it. I don’t know if this will ever end.”

“I can help. If I can see this place, travel here, surely I can do something.”

He grabs your hands again as he shakes his head. “You could have anything you want; this is not the life for you.”

“What if I want to feel you beside me, not just see you sometimes while I’m asleep? Don’t I get a say in how my life goes?”

“You don’t even know my name, let alone what you want. Trust me.”

“Then tell me your name.”

He’s silent, his eyes on your joined hands.

You step closer, angling your head to look into his eyes. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel something too.”

“Please don’t do something you’ll regret,” he begs in a whisper.

“What’s your name?” you ask again.

You hear a yell just before his head turns, and you wake up. You groan as you wake, your body meeting the floor beside your bed. Crawling across the floor, you reach for your phone in the corner of your room. The screen is shattered, a sign that your night in this realm was just as restless as in the other. Opening the first app you see, you begin typing, only saving a few letters before blood drops onto the keyboard from your thumb. Someone yelled it in the Further, so, despite his protests, you learned his name. The letters D-a-l are illuminated before the blinking cursor, your fingers bleeding from the glass of your keyboard.

“Dalton,” you whisper. “Your name is Dalton.”

▪︎

“Make it stop,” you plead.

Your roommate stands in your doorway, frozen. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No! I have to go back,” you pant. “He needs help.”

“Who?”

“Dalton!”

Walking to the side of your bed, your roommate says, “You know his name? You said you went in and said goodbye.”

Gasping for air, you explain that you tried, but something happened and you couldn't. The gurgling noise that escapes your throat startles your roommate, who disappears out your door.

“Ambulance… trouble breathing and dissociation…” You catch bits and pieces of the hushed conversation, willing your mind and body to work together and get you to Dalton.

“Please,” you whisper, “one more time.”

You close your eyes and wait. A tear runs down the side of your face; the only way you can release the emotions no one will ever understand.

“What are you doing here?”

At the sound of his voice, your eyes snap open.

“I told you not to come back!”

“No, you didn’t. You told me not to do something I’d regret.”

“Then why are you here?” Dalton clenches his jaw as he looks at you, his intense stare fixed on your face.

“You need help.” Dalton tilts his head and opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “Don’t lie to me and say you don’t.”

Dalton closes the distance, close enough that you can feel his breath on your face. “If you die in here, you are trapped here forever. I am not letting that happen; not to you.”

Your heart drops as you ask, “Is that what happened to you?”

The light above the door illuminates fully, drawing your attention. The black paint begins to chip away, red showing in the gaps.

“I tried to stop you from coming, but it obviously didn't work. I’m sorry,” Dalton says, turning to you and grasping your shoulders.

“For what?”

“Do it!” He screams, shoving your shoulders away from him.

You don’t hit the floor before your vision grows blurry and your lungs begin burning.

“Dalton,” you gasp weakly.

“Maybe we can meet in your nightmares, if you ever forgive me,” he says distantly as the darkness envelops you.

[halfmoth-halfman]

i got an ask about advice for writing when you're discouraged, so i thought i'd make a post addressing some of the points because i think this is something that everyone has gone through and can relate to. most of this is just what's helped me/what i'd tell myself in the past, but if anyone has advice to add on please feel free! i hope this helps at least a little bit, anon!

"I’m not good at (dialogue/atmosphere/prose/etc)."

write it anyways! one of the best ways to build a skill is to keep doing it. even if you don't ever post it, or only share it with a few friends, or just read it to your pets, or whatever you choose to do, it's better to write something "badly" than to not write at all. or even asking for help on how to improve from other writers. i struggle a lot with atmosphere and scenery, and something that helped me a lot was talking to other writers whose fics i really enjoy and inspire me. i know it may seem intimidating, but there are plenty of writers on tumblr that would love to talk about how they compose their scenes, their dialogue, anything and everything if someone asks.

"I can’t make moodboards/headers/aesthetic posts."

the good news is, you don't have to! fics don't have to have anything other than the fic itself. i can't speak for everyone, but while aesthetics may get my attention, it's the person behind the blog that i stay for. if you want your blog or your fics to have a pretty aesthetic, it shouldn't be because you feel forced to but because you want to do it. if you don't find making moodboards or headers or aesthetic posts fun, then you don't have to do them. and if you want to, but don't know how, there are a ton of resources, links, and blogs dedicated to helping on tumblr.

"I’m not at (insert someone else)’s writing level."

and you might never be, and that's okay! every writer is different - they have different styles, write at different paces, perceive their skill differently. basing your progress on someone else's isn't going to help because you're not them. you have your own time, energy, ability, and ideas, you'll grow and improve at your own pace, just like they did. don't force yourself to try and follow the same timeline of someone else, and don't put yourself down because you're getting better - and you are getting better - at your own pace.

"I can’t find the motivation to write."

honestly same. i think it's a pretty universal experience to lose motivation for something you were excited about at one point. sometimes the vibes aren't it and the story doesn't want to story, but that's alright. it can be hard to stay motivated, and what gets someone inspired again is different everyone. i can't give advice for anything outside of what's helped me, but a few ways i've re-motivated myself to write something are: making a fic playlist, stepping away from the fic for a day or two, giving it to a friend to read, re-watching/reading the source material, doodling fic ideas, and skipping to a different part of the story.

"I can’t write fast enough."

unless it's for something like work where you have a fixed deadline, there is no "fast enough" in writing. don't let anyone tell you otherwise. when i first started writing, in the very early days of ao3 and tumblr, fic updates could takes months or even more than a year and that was fine! one of my favorite fics took a six year hiatus, and that didn't diminish any of the enjoyment i had when it came back. you are not a machine, you're a human being with needs outside of writing. it's always okay if you need to take a break, if there's a long wait between chapters, or if you want to stop a project altogether and come back to it six years later. if someone gives you grief because you can't write within their time-frame then they're not worth having as a reader - do not overwork yourself for the sake of finishing a fic.

"It’s hard to stick to one idea at a time."

then don't! write all the ideas. write every single one. working on a project and you have a drabble that you just keep thinking about? write it. you get a sudden idea for a one-shot in a different fandom? write it. woke up in the mood to start a new five-chapter fic? write it. you can start or stop writing about anything at any time. there is no rule that you have to stick to one idea and finish it before you can write anything else, don't make yourself stick to something if it's not what you want to write, and don't punish yourself if you need to take a break from your current project.

"Maybe I’m not made for writing on tumblr."

tumblr is a shitposting website that barely works at the best of times. half of my drafts get deleted every other week for no reason - there is no way to be "made for writing on tumblr"! but tumblr is huge, there's a bajillion communities on here that would be so excited to have another writer, and a ton that are solely dedicated to helping writers and providing different resources. i guarantee there is someone on this website that will love and adore your writing.

"The things I read are better than anything I can write/comparing myself to other writers."

i don't have the cake picture saved, but we all know the gist of it: the audience (generally) isn't going to care about how decorated your cake is compared to another, they're just happy to get two cakes. and that's really all it is. your fic might not be the same preferred flavor as the audience of other writers, but there is someone out there who's going to enjoy it. i won't tell you to just not compare yourself to others, i know that's not how it works, but what has helped me is changing the way i view other fics. instead of thinking "i wish i could write like this person", i look at like "this inspires me to improve my writing". and don't get me wrong, i still have moments of doubt about my writing compared to some of the people i read, i don't think that will ever really stop, but the best thing you can do is not let yourself give in to that feeling. try and stop that train of thought before it leaves the station. no one else can write the way you can. no one else can tell your stories the way you can. no one else has the same voice as you do. if everyone wrote the same way, everything would be boring. the heart of a fic is seeing the author's personality shine through it. if you see someone write a good fic, that doesn't mean yours won't be. you have to give yourself a chance even when you feel like your writing won't be as good as someone else's. you have to bake your cake anyway.

"How do I find joy in something I know I’ll never be good at?"

you won't. full stop. if you keep telling yourself you'll never be good at something, you'll never improve, there's no point in trying, then you'll never enjoy it. i know it's easier said than done, but you have to have some level of confidence in yourself and in your writing. not only will you not enjoy it, other people will see the lack of enjoyment, the "i wrote this and it sucks" comments, the self-degradation, and they won't enjoy it either - no one feels good about a fic the author clearly didn't want to write. and, if you try everything you possibly can and still can't find any joy in writing, then maybe writing isn't the hobby for you. and that's perfectly okay! i tried quilting and glassblowing several times before i realized i just didn't like it the same way i liked writing. you owe it to yourself to find something that's fun, that makes you smile, that you're excited to do. there's a million hobbies out there, i promise you'll find something that brings you joy.

[dsafstevenfanclub]

Catch me in the Phone guy and others server that I made straight up kissing it. And by "it" I mean Steven Stevenson

[No I didn't send this ask because I didn't know how to tell you guys I had a Phone guy and others server haha what are you talking about DM me for link...]

Oh also: anyone else feel like the dsaf fandom focuses so much on the other members of the flipside gang that Steven appears once in a blue moon?

Agh. I'm ranting. Oh, rants. If you wanna see my rant about how Steven was done dirty in dsaf 3 um. Okay 👍. Tell me in the notes please I worked hard on that rant. It's in the dsaf confessions tumblr blog.

- a disheveled ass @stevens-lemonboyfriend ... where am I.

THIS. THIS IS A PERFECT OPPORTUNITY FOR ME TO RAMBLE BACK THANK YOU. AND YES YES ABSOLUTELY FEEL FREE TO SHARE YOURS!!

Slight cw/tw (especially for fictives, fictkins, and irls/ids) for mentions of the in-source horrors//

ermm ermmmm anyways..

I 100% think that Steven deserves more recognition. I've seen various people just brush him off as nothing more than "an asshole boss". Sure, he could be a little overbearing at Freddy's, but he's phoneguy. Most phoneguys tend to be at least a LITTLE bossy, it's their JOB. They were specifically programmed to be managers, so of course they would be!

And don't forget, Steven was hurting too. He'd been surrounded by people at Freddy's for roughly a decade and yet he still technically alone as he had nobody to properly care about him. He literally had daily crying sessions in the bathrooms! (Yes, that's canon, incase anyone doesn't know.)

Listen, as a Dave, I remember that it was pretty easy to tell he was lonely (based off of my source-memories). I remember him being a little more "off to the side" than most of the others back in the flipside, for lack of better words, and that was a big reason I talked to him a lot during our time together. Even if he's made his mistakes and had done some things he clearly regrets, he was a pretty good boss compared to some others I had worked with in source!

He cared about the well-being of others, even if it wasn't always obvious since he was typically forced to put him and the company first above others, and felt repulsed by the murders. He felt guilty for trying to pin the murders on Jack, even after learning he had a part in it. He felt guilty for sending Peter to the factory and even APOLOGIZED before doing so, unaware if Peter could even still hear it or not.

I respect other people's interpretations, don't get me wrong, but it saddens me a little when people think he's just some asshole who doesn't care about what happens to others. Phoneguys are pressured to stay with the company, to do what they can to protect it - and by extension themselves - or else they face harsh consequences, to put it lightly. It's understandable why Steven did the things he did in before the flipside.

He wanted to treat people like humans, he wanted to be a good person. Don't forget that he tried to stop Henry before he ended up becoming a phoneguy. He was afraid, yes, but he's not just a coward that's too afraid to stand up for what he thinks is right nor unable to defend himself - or others - if needed. The reason he didn't defy the company is because of the SEVERE consequences, even if he clearly hated working with the company, not because he didn't care. Steven definitely deserves love and care, despite having made mistakes.

If you've read this far then uh... ooooooo you have to give him hugs now guys I'm hypnotizing you into hugging him ooooooo /j

Fr though, I stand firm that Steven deserved so much better and that he deserves affection just as much as anyone else. I refuse to change my mind. /silly /pos

-🍆