#ill go think about curb stomps or something to feel something

[eddiekinkston]

i get that we all can enjoy things differently, but the eddie match ending was just dogshit and there is not a single way to enjoy it i do not care argue with the wall

[kitkatt0430]

Alrighty, so... my thoughts on Khione.

I still think she only really makes sense if her power comes from all the power Frost absorbed both in order to kill fake!Ronnie and from him when she did kill him. All that power was too much for her and it killed her but it had to go somewhere, so it did. Caitlin. And when Caitlin's ill advised Frost resurrection scheme went sideways, that power manifested in her body to create Khione.

So when Khione 'ascended' (still disappointed that she didn't briefly look like a glowing squid like Daniel in SG-1, but that doesn't stop me from saying she's besties with Oma now and definitely thinks Oma leaving Daniel naked in random locals - twice - is hilarious), it does make sense that she was able to restore the body she'd been wearing to it's original state and wake Caitlin's consciousness back up. After all, Caitlin's consciousness had only been suppressed - she'd been dead in the sense that she'd never wake up again so long as Khione was living in that body since they weren't time sharing like with Frost.

But I don't really feel like Khione was actually 'essential' to the plot. They never explain where her powers come from, so my theory about her powers coming from an evil cosmic entity and being remade into something good through her is... just a theory. Even if it is the only explanation that makes anything remotely approaching sense. *side-eying the show's in-universe, desperate retcon of Thomas Snow's experiments*

With my theory, we could also assume that Caitlin might have ended up dying anyway if that power had started leaching into her while she remained a regular human. That the power instead took advantage of Caitlin's crystal coffin tech to transform her body into a more suitable vessel - hence why Khione wasn't human when Chester checked her DNA - and that Khione's existence was necessary to save Caitlin's life in the long run.

Without my theory... we have Thomas Snow accidentally turned himself and his daughter into random power/personality generators that just happened to both cause ice powers the first time around and made a literal goddess out of nothing the second time the dice was rolled with Caitlin. Whoops?

Beyond the question of how Khione came into existence and whether she was necessary for Caitlin's survival... honestly, Khione doesn't really do a whole lot for the plot. She saves Mark Blaine twice when him dying would be the only instance of redemption equals death that would actually be satisfying on this show. (Admittedly the second time she saved him from a death she first caused, which she caused with a hilarious amount of ease while the N!SF is going PANIC!!!) And since the N!SF was only mining the 2023 team for power, her fight with the possessed Mark Blaine really didn't matter in the long run because even when she 'won' the N!SF still won too.

Before that, her first real 'usefulness' in a life or death plot was when Ramsey was doing his zombie invasion redux and she freed Dig from his control and froze everyone else. But... with Oliver's Specter powers being used to cleanse Ramsey's zombie goo from the multiverse before it could spread, they could have just as easily had a first demonstration of that ability by having Oliver cleanse Team Flash + Dig, or at least just Dig, while he and Barry escaped from STAR Labs.

Her curb-stomping of Zolomon in the final episode was kind of fun, but would have been more satisfying if she'd actually been Caitlin. Even Frost shattering the Black Flash was more satisfying because it was at least Caitlin's PTSD from Hunter kidnapping her that triggered Frost's re-awakening in the first place. Khione really had no connection to the events with Zoom and neither did Blaine, who was just kinda standing there thinking everyone wants to see him shirtless.

And Khione sends Barry to the N!SF, but there's no reason he couldn't have found a way there without her. Focused on, say, how much he loves Eddie and doesn't want to lose him again... (look, he and Iris just want to keep Eddie bundled up in blankets in their loft for the rest of forever, okay? They want to keep him warm, safe, hugged, and snuggled in their bed. And as an extra pair of hands to deal with a baby, you need all the hands you can get with a baby.)

Khione herself has a very bland personality. She's cute and I did enjoy seeing her grow, even if the most important of her power growth happened off screen. But there was a lot of tell-don't-show going on with her and in a tv-show... you want to have more showing than telling when it comes to character growth. Most of Khione's powers we actually saw were temperature and ice based. The only exceptions was her inexplicable healing kiss for Mark, being able to tell Iris was pregnant, and sensing the changing of the seasons - which a weather broadcast could have told her, so that last one is kind of a stretch. So while it isn't surprising that a plant obsessed girl with goddess powers can 'heal' people by giving them temporary plant photosynthesis... it does come out of left field. Everything the does in the four part finale came with no real build up, to be honest.

And while her powers clearly developed, Khione's personality doesn't really grow much by comparison. She's still very much the naive, newly-born personality at the end of the season that she was at the start. She did learn to be passive aggressive. I'll give her that much. But in comparison? We've seen Ralph grow from a jerkass who covered his insecurities with misogyny into someone not afraid of being vulnerable, who loved his friends, and wanted nothing more than to support those friends in whatever way he can over the course of a season. We've seen Frost develop from someone who used other people's fear of her to keep them at bay turn into someone who desperately wanted to be loved, not feared. We've watched characters process grief and how it affected them as they dealt with it in healthy and unhealthy ways alike. The ninth season was only half a season long, compared to the lengths of previous seasons, so they didn't have long to develop Khione but beyond wanting to be seen for herself and not as Frost or Caitlin... we honestly didn't get much development from her.

Danielle has done understated characters before - Caitlin has always been tightly controlled, but still amazingly expressive nonetheless - so i don't think it was her performance that failed with me where Khione was concerned. I think that she just... wasn't really given a lot to work with.

Now as to what I wish we'd gotten in place of Khione? More Caitlin. Caitlin dealing with her grief over Frost only to slowly realize she has frost powers of her own. Hoping it means Frost is back within her mind, only to realize she's not and having to really accept her sister's death. Caitlin's healing and ice powers protecting her from Bloodwork and seeing that as Frost's final gift to her. Accepting that Frost would always be a part of Caitlin, even though her sister's dead. Caitlin using those powers to defeat Hunter herself, to finally pay him back for the horrible trauma he put her through.

Things being rocky between Caitlin and Barry at first until they both apologize and Caitlin breaks down crying with him over having Frost's powers but not Frost. She doesn't want the powers. She wants her sister.

We've seen Caitlin - not Frost - use those powers before. So it makes sense she's still have those powers but had psychologically blocked herself from using them previously because, to her, they were Frost's powers. Not really Caitlin's. And her grief, her need to have something of Frost's stay with her, having broken that psychological block. Seeing Caitlin learn to love and enjoy the powers that Frost loved so much...

That would have been a lot more satisfying to see in the final season of the Flash. A much better plotline for an OG member of the team than 'comatose while a baby nature goddess borrows her body for a year'. And a much better tribute to Frost's death than making it look like her sacrifice to save Caitlin was for nothing for twelve episodes.

[betmyfortune]

Test Drabble

While the big-folk talked, the other little jogged over to her, his face alight with mild curiosity. He held out a hand to her.

“Hey there stranger. I’m Eli, nice to meet you.”

She took his hand, somewhat nervously “Um. Riley.”

He chuckled “Eli and Riley, funny. I heard you came here via smuggler, Riley. I’m real sorry about that, I cant believe there's still dirt-bags out there that do that kind of barbaric work. Anything I can get you to make your stay more comfortable?”

Riley wondered briefly how he knew so much in so little time. Guess world travelled fast round here.

“Um, you don't happen to have any water on you?” Her throat felt a bit dry and raspy from all the terrified yelling she’d done earlier.

Eli grinned and gave the huge leg next to him, Sammy, a good hard thwack.

“Ow!” Sammy barked from above. “Eli, what the hell?”

Riley shrunk back instinctively from Sammy’s wrath but her new friend seemed unbothered.

“Hey Sam, I’m parched can we continue this conversation somewhere I can get a drink?”

“Yeah alright.” Sammy grumbled. But her previous ire seemed mostly forgotten. “We’ll got to the well. Its not too far. Need a lift?”

“Nah, Legs doesn't mind sharing his chair. Ay Legs?” “Not at all!” Abel replied amicably. “Climb aboard the Able express! Choo choo!”

Riley was a bit nervous about going towards the massive wheelchair, but Eli took her by the hand and led her around behind it.

There was a little seat attached to the back of the chair. It looked almost like a second footrest but on the wrong side. Eli sat down, and beckoned Riley to do the same.

When they we settled, Eli slapped the back of the chair, hard enough so Abel could feel it.

“Mush!” he yelled “Gddyup!”

Able leaned back a bit so he could see them “Whats the magic word?”

Eli rolled his eyes. “Please mush.”

“Eh, close enough.” He chuckled and started to roll forward, Sammy walking alongside them and the two big-folk continued their chat.

Riley stared at this stranger beside her. She couldn't believe how brazen he was being around people who could morally wound him with a single kick. When he punched Sammy she worried for a moment that the giant might curb stomp him or something.

Eli caught her gaze. “What?” he asked with his signature grin. Riley was beginning to believe this guy was a bit of a hell raiser.

“C’mon, don't look so tense Riley, these guys are chumps! Total pushovers! Life in a giant town is so easy for us little-folk, you would not believe the things we can get away with. Once, I asked Abel to make a whole suite of furniture for my empty house and he did. For free! Wild.”

Riley felt doubtful. “I don't know, Abel just seems like the kind of guy to do something like that.”

“That’s true” Eli admitted “but it’s not just him. Lots of big-folk give me free stuff all the time! Sometimes ill pretend to be sad and mope around town just to see what kind of free shit I’ll get given.”

“But why though?” Riley asked “Aren't we like… pests to them…?”

“We’ll I’m definitely a pest that’s for sure.” Eli preened like he was proud of the fact. “But I also happen to be the size and shape of a baby, or perhaps a small creature. So a very cute pest that can get away with anything.”

“So, they think of us as babies?” Riley balked “That’s so humiliating!”

“Hey.” Eli grabbed her hands, and for the first time since they’d met, he gave her a stern look “Cut them some slack, ok? They don't literally think we’re babies. They think we’re cute. Which we objectively are. And I bet if the roles were reversed we’d think the exact same way. They try their absolute best to treat us with the dignity and respect we deserve. I just happen to be exploiting the fact that I am adorable to take advantage of my very close friends because I am a charlatan and a scoundrel. And also because it’s funny. Okay?”

Riley nodded, feeling a bit silly for jumping to that conclusion. She hadn't been belittled or babied once since Sammy found her. Her doubts were unjustified.

Abel slowed to a stop.

“Looks like we’re here.” Eli hopped of his seat “Let’s get you some water.”

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

So... i wrote a thing.

Since LeetleZeetle left tumblr ive been kind of missing out on minigiant content so fuckit im making my own.

Some context for why Eli calls Abel 'Legs'. Abel is missing his left arm and has a prosthetic. Eli calls him Legs because "at lest he still has them". Its an inside joke between the two.

Also Abel can walk. He has a cane at home and just uses his chair on bad days. I couldnt really find a place to fit all this info so its at the end lol. i might write more someday, we'll see.

@specipher this is the fic i was tellin u about

[atths--twice]

Sweet Surprises

Mulder wakes a sleepy Scully, who is not super happy about it. But she agrees to meet him and is pleasantly surprised by what he planned. Tagging @fictober-event @today-in-fic and @xffictober2021​

Fictober Day 20 

Word Count: 1690

Rated: T

Prompt: Do you know what time it is? and Fine, I give up. A double dose today to catch up a little. 

Fandom: The X-Files 

December 19, 1997

The ringing of the phone woke her and Scully groaned as she stretched, wrapped up in a blanket on the couch. Tangled, she fought to sit upright and blinked as she looked around, the phone now silent.  

The television was still on, some Christmas movie playing quietly. The quick lighting log she had purchased on her way home, was very nearly done burning, the room warm and cozy. Her empty plate and almost empty glass of wine sat on the coffee table beside autopsy reports.

Groaning again, she stretched more, rolling her neck to remove the kinks. How Mulder slept on his couch so often, she would never understand. It was fine for a quick nap, but every night, no thank you. She would take her comfortable, soft bed any day.

The phone rang again and she grumbled as she uncovered and walked to pick it up.

“Scully,” she said, clearing her throat as her words came out gruff with sleep.

“Scully! It’s me,” Mulder shouted down the line, far too happy and excited for the late hour.

“Mulder, do you know what time it is?” she asked with a sigh, hoping he was not calling with a case.

“Not as late as you think it is,” he said with a chuckle and she looked at the clock, finding he was right, it was only 9:30. She must have been more tired than she thought.

“So... what do you want?” she asked, walking back to the couch and lying down, covering up with the blanket and closing her eyes.

“Meet me outside in ten minutes.”

“Mulder,” she groaned with a growl, a deep frown on her face. “No, it’s late, or it will be soon. I’m tired. Can’t this wait until-”

“No, Scully,” he chuckled and she never hated the sound more. “It has to be now. Come on.”

“Mulder, I’m not even dressed.”

“Really? Well that’s okay with me, but I think you might be cold. But you do what makes you most comfortable, I won’t complain one bit.” She smiled and then frowned again.

“Mulder,” she whined, knowing she would not be able to turn him down, and he laughed.

“Five minutes, Scully.”

“You said ten!” she said, throwing off the blanket and standing up. She stomped into her room which was slightly cooler than the rest of the apartment and she shivered.

“Welllll, it’s more like five… ish. I’ll be waiting.”

“Mul-” But he hung up before she could finish and she threw the phone on the bed with an annoyed growl as she yanked open a drawer to take out a thick sweater. “That damn man… he drives me crazy. Doesn’t matter the time, oh no, it’s just come on, Scully, let’s go! And of course I do because…”

She shook her head and took off her long sleeved shirt she had been wearing. It was actually one of Mulder’s, one he had given to her after she had been ill one night during chemo. He had held her as she cried in some small town motel room, angry at everything.  She had kept the shirt and slept in it from time to time, the feeling of it bringing her comfort.

Debating on a bra, she decided instead on a camisole, a more fitting long sleeved shirt, and her sweater. Whatever he had planned, most likely they would be outside, chasing down something in a forest somewhere.

Grumbling, she put on long thick socks and pants, then warm boots. She brushed her hair and her teeth, before grabbing her coat, gloves, keys, phone and wallet. Making sure the fire was out, she turned off the television and the lights. Locking the door, she let out an annoyed sigh and walked down the hall and out of her lobby.

True to his word, he was sitting at the curb, watching for her to emerge. When he saw her he grinned, though she did not return it. Snow was falling and she shook her head as she motioned to it, which caused him to laugh. Opening up the car door, she got in and he handed her a paper cup.

“This better have some alcohol in it and not just be hot chocolate,” she said by way of a greeting. He laughed again and waited with his eyebrows raised. Taking a sip, she tasted the peppermint liqueur he had added and she nodded. “Smart man.”

“As if I don’t know you,” he responded, looking over his shoulder and pulling out from the parking spot.

“Pretty ballsy of you to be driving with a passenger drinking an alcoholic beverage.”

“I’m an FBI agent, I’m not scared.” He glanced at her and she exhaled a laugh, shaking her head at him.

“Where are we going?”

“Nope. Not yet. We have a little drive to take first.”

“Mulder…”

“Look, I have the radio set to Christmas songs, it’s warm, you have your drink… sit back and relax. It’s just a few minutes.”

“And this couldn’t wait?”

“No. You’re leaving in a couple of days for your brother’s and it won’t be there when you get back. So…”

“Fine, I give up.”

“Perfect,” he said, with a wink and the click of his tongue. She took a drink, hiding her smile behind her cup, not wanting him to know he had gotten to her.

Christmas carols played quietly as they drove, his fingers drumming softly on the steering wheel. The liqueur was doing its job nicely; warming her belly and relaxing her back into the seat.

“Are we chasing something?”

“No,” he chuckled.

“Searching for something?”

“Nah uh,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Meeting an informant with information to the heart of a major global conspiracy that the public desperately needs to know about?”

“God, I wish.” He let out a low whistle and she laughed softly. “No, none of that, now stop guessing. We’ll be there soon.”

“Whatever you say.”

“That’s more like it.” He winked at her again and she smiled, the sudden urge to kiss him overwhelming. Instead she took another sip of her hot chocolate, turning her head to look out the window.

They exited the highway and made a left, driving into the suburbs.

“A monster, disguising itself as an ordinary average man. But by night he roams the streets looking for his next meal,” she said, her voice quiet and chilling.

“Isn’t that just a lawyer?” he asked and she laughed, shaking her head with a smile.

He grinned and turned into a neighborhood bearing the name, Windsong. As they did, she gasped, looking at the houses lit up with Christmas lights and decorations.

“Ohhhh… wow,” she breathed, seeing him smiling out of the corner of her eye as she looked around, trying to see everything.

He drove slowly, down many streets, other cars in front of and behind them doing the same thing. They pointed out things they enjoyed, laughing and speaking quietly. He produced candy canes, both of them then sucking on and crunching them in turn.

“How did you find out about this place?” she asked, holding the crook of her candy cane in her hand, the sweet taste of mint on her tongue and Christmas lights glowing around them.

“Langly, if you can believe it,” he said with a look to her.

“What?” she asked in surprise.

“He’s apparently seeing someone and they came out here at her request.”

“Really? Well, good for him.” She smiled and nodded, happy to hear he had found someone. “How did he tell you about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t think discussions of… Candy Cane Lane here, are your typical conversations.” She laughed and he nodded with a smile.

“True. Frohike kept teasing him about his “chickadee” and how they had come out here to see the lights… you know how they are. Byers had to stop them from arguing, as I’m sure he does a lot. Anyway, I asked Langly about it before I left and here we are.”

“Here we are,” she repeated and smiled, lightly squeezing his arm in thanks. He nodded and their attention returned to the lights.

Thirty minutes later, they were in a small diner, non spiked hot chocolates sitting in front of them, their late night snack of fries and a shared sandwich gone and cleared away.

Not long after, they were pulling up in front of her apartment. He parked the car and turned off the engine, the snowflakes landing softly on the windshield.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. “That was… different than our usual car rides. I liked it.”

“Good,” he said with a smile and a nod. “What time do you leave on Sunday?”

“Early. We have a layover and a plane change in… Atlanta, I think.”

“Hmm…”

“Did you decide if you’ll do anything? See your mom perhaps?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Most likely nothing.”

“An idle Mulder… not always the best Mulder.” She smiled and he returned it with a nod.

“I’ll find something.”

“Just don’t find anything too dangerous. I won’t be here to bail you out.”

“Best behavior,” he said, crossing his heart and sticking up three fingers.

“Famous last words,” she said softly as she placed her hand over his, squeezing gently and nodding. “Goodnight, Mulder. Thank you and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, Scully,” he whispered, turning her hand over and bringing it to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. She smiled as her heart fluttered, pulling her hand away slowly and stepping out of the car.

She waved to him before she walked inside, the snow beginning to fall harder. He waved back and started the car, driving away as she stepped inside.

Back in her apartment, she put her dishes in the sink, folded her blanket, and made sure the door was locked. Undressing, she put his shirt back on, brushed her teeth and got into bed.

She dreamed of twinkling lights, candy canes lining long pathways, snow falling in large puffs, and Mulder’s smile as he watched her staring at the beauty of the lights.

[theravenclawrevolutionary]

i'm not a frev expert. and you seem to be approchable enough and to have read enough. i had a question, or kind of a question. i just. i think that if robespierre wasn't against all the deaths by guillotine, he wouldn't have written that quote about virtue and terror. maybe i'm getting you wrong, or i'm not understanding the sense of that quote. could you explain?

Oh dang. I'm kinda surprised that people think I have any real authority on the subject of the Frev since I'm not an actual historian or anything and I'm surprised people find me approachable but of course I'll try my best for you Anon! And if anyone else has a better interpretation or anything else to add please, go ahead. I'll also try my best to keep it in as simple language as I can. But I digress.

⚠ This post is quite long so be prepared for that ⚠

First of all, Robespierre has more than one quote talking about terror and virtue. I'm assuming that you're thinking of the one that goes, "Terror is only justice: prompt, severe and inflexible; it is then an emanation of virtue; it is less a distinct principle than a natural consequence of the general principle of democracy, applied to the most pressing wants of the country." since that is the most common one. However, if you're talking about the one that goes "Terror is only justice: prompt, severe and inflexible; it is then an emanation of virtue; it is less a distinct principle than a natural consequence of the general principle of democracy, applied to the most pressing wants of the country." Let me know and I'll write about that one. The former is definitely a quote that, in my experience studying the Frev, gets misinterpreted from what it was originally meant to say fairly often.

To start with, it's very important to know what connotation and definition the words 'virtue' and 'terror' had in revolution-era France. Modern-day definitions may not be the same ones that were used in the past. According to my research, which of course isn't infallible, virtue was used to refer to someone's disposition and the way it would lead them to choose good over evil whereas where terror was seen simply as great fear. At the time there was no connotation of our modern-day terrorism to associate with the word. Nowadays we associate terror with terrorism which brings to mind murder, mindless destruction, oppression, and unchecked authority in which someone's ideals are forced upon large groups of people. Because of this many people assume that this is what Robespierre had in mind when he referenced terror when really he meant to describe the use of intimidation tactics to seize power from those who oppressed the lower class people and the general fear that was felt by the commoners.

Essentially the Reign of Terror meant 'a time period where everyone felt a sh*t load of Fear over all the bad stuff happening at once while the regular people try to overthrow the oppressive ruling class with intimidation tactics.' It does not mean 'a time period where loads of people were purposely committing widespread acts of terrorism to push their agendas'. And really, it was the only way to give everyone the chance to get rid of the old government, the monarchy, and allow a fair democracy that would be beneficial to the future of France to be built.

Next, it's important to know the context in which this quote was originally said. The speech where Robespierre said it took place on Feb 5th (?) of 1794. By this point, the revolution has been well underway for several long years and, as I said, a lot of sucky things are happening at the same time. The republic was in a war with a massive part of Europe and they're kinda getting curb-stomped. The country is in a state of civil war between the people that still supported the monarchy and all the different groups that had different views of how the country should be run. France's economy was complete sh*t too, so all this really radicalized the people and made the whole revolution situation so much worse than it already was.

At the time there were two factions, so to say, in the National Convention that were hella pissed at each other and really at odds. the Hébertists (who, to make things easy, wanted to escalate the Terror, go on the offensive with the military, and the overthrow and replace some of the existing government structures at the time) and the Dantonists (who wanted to sorta get rid of the revolutionary government, negotiate for peace in the war, and chill out on the whole Terror thing). And remember that these groups of people were very loose and like people in today's politic didn't agree with every stance their 'faction' took.

By the time Max made this speech, which was addressing these two groups, the situation between them was escalated big time. The Hébertists, with their views of 'more terror all over! That'll help us win everything,' or 'terror without virtue,' were pushing for a system that would quickly prove fatal. By contrast, the Dantonists with their, 'we just need to kinda chill and things will work out,' way of thinking or 'virtue without terror', would only lead to them (and the rest of the country) getting walked over by everyone else.

Throughout the entire speech, a speech I haven't recently read all the way through, Max comes back to the idea of terror and virtue, stressing that both are necessary. What I think he meant to do was talk about how the revolution couldn't survive without both terror (fear and the aggression that causes it) and virtue (the choice of good over evil) being applied. He's trying to explain to both groups that a little bit of both ideals is the most beneficial way to go about things. In reality, it has nothing to do with whether he personally believed in or advocated the death penalty/ the use of the guillotine. Instead, Robespierre is emphasizing that at that particular moment in time doing what is right and good (virtue) will most likely end up causing some bad things that will make people afraid for a while (terror).

What Robespierre is not saying is that terror, and by extension the violence that is causing the terror is virtuous. There are several easy-to-find sources that prove his personal disapproval of the death penalty from a moral standpoint. As a young lawyer in his hometown in Arras, he became physically ill at the idea of having one of his clients sentenced to death, even though he was found guilty of the crime he was on trial for. He made a speech agreeing with the abolition of the death penalty on May 30th of 1791 (?) arguing that there is no place for the death penalty in a civilized society because the law needs to be a model of what is good. He attempted to save the lives of Georges Danton and Camille Desmoulins, two friends/coworkers that he is commonly charged with sending to their deaths when the opposite is actually true. Additionally, he did the same with other more controversial people including the king's sister of all people, Madame Elisabeth. Even when voting for the death of the king he reiterates his own opinion on the death penalty saying, "For myself, I abhor the penalty of death that your law so liberally imposes, and I have neither love nor hatred for the King; it is only the crimes that I hate…. It is with regret that I utter this baneful truth…Louis must die in order that our country may live." Though it conflicts with his personal views, Robespierre makes the decision based on the needs of France as a country, something that many politicians need to relearn how to do today.

Long story short, he was not supporting the use of the guillotine with that quote, but rather trying to get two opposing factions to realize that both intimidation/fear and making sound, beneficial decisions would keep France on the right track to building a successful democracy for the people. Hopefully this helped and I explained it in a way that was easy for you to understand. If you ever have any more Frev related questions feel free to ask and I'll do my best to answer or I'll send you in the direction of someone else more knowledgeable if I don't know.

Also, can someone tell me if I did a good job of explaining this? I can never tell if things I write about the Frev make sense to me because I actually know exactly what I mean to say so everyone else kinda goes along with it or if I actually say helpful things of substance. Thanks guys! And if anyone else knows more about the subject or if I've made a mistake please help me out.

~Dara

[decayandfanfics]

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head,  every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his  silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a  fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He  thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the  very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset.  He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment  many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut, dirty talking.

A/N:  This chapter is shameless smut, you are warned. Minors do not interact. go and read a book or something.

Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.As always, let me know what you think!

________________________________________________

Chapter 14 / Chapter 15

Lovers ever run before the clock.

Overhaul really is just an uptight pretentious asshole, but Tomura lets his insulting remarks slide, trying his utter best not to snap.

He was supposed to be in a good mood today, but by the time Chronostasis puts the gun against his white locks, he swears that he will do anything in his power to completely ruin Shie Hassakai for this mess, already struggling to keep his temper at bay.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”

He’s never one to get distracted but it is difficult to stay focus when he cannot erase the feeling of her thighs caging his hips, her words rumbling inside his brain like a prayer for him to come back and take what’s already his.

It enrages him far more than he would like to admit, but he can’t go back if he gets killed, can’t he?

Luckily for them, Tomura kinda lacks that self-preservation impulse at the face of danger, so he stays there completely stoic and delightfully petty between Chisaki and the gun. The thought of her crying because he got his pretty brains scattered all over the Shie Hassakai immaculate floor makes him realize that he has yet another reason to hate Overhaul.

Really, what’s the matter with these people? they just keep adding points to their list, but sure, he will work with what he has (as always) by sending Toga and Twice into their ranks to gain some reliability after Chisaki told him about this ridiculous plan of curing society of quirks like it’s an illness.

And he thought que was an extremist.

It’s a dumb concept, really. People decide to be assholes, to be heroes, villains and such. There is a choice in excluding those like him from society meanwhile hero violence is idolized. But quirks? People don’t get to choose. Shit just happens. You can develop a cute little nice quirk that allows you to make bubbles or something ridiculous like, dunno, destroying everything you touch; but people can help it, it’s just the way it is. Nobody asks for it. Not even Overhaul, not even him.

And, even when Tomura can understand what Overhaul is saying about society being unfair based on quirks, his plan still sounds pretty nonsensical to him, who wants to destroy everything with his own hands, after all is that why he was born with such deadly weapon at the reach of his fingers. It would be nothing short but hypocritical and, despite the irony, he likes to think of himself as an honest person. His goal clashes directly with Overhaul’s, so no, he will keep the league interests to himself and for now will trust Toga and Twice to do what they do best without rising any suspicion about what he’s up to. Chisaki is more stupid tan he looks if he thinks Tomura will make blind eye to the audacity of his challenge and his continuous lack of propriety.

Oh, poor Overhaul. He doesn’t know it yet, but he already lost.

In the meantime, he’ll keep himself busy on more important and exciting matters. Hating Overhaul is something he can use as a motivation for more than just inner monologue, because you see, Tomura has a revenge to plan and a truck to steal.

_____________

 Things are different next time he sees you. Something primal and strange born from a sick sense of belonging that fills your interactions after the night you slept together, soothing his temper and bitterness into something warmer and far more intense that pulls and twist and burns to be close to each other.

It's been four days since they left the apartment to prepare the backhand against Overhaul and Tomura is sure that by that hour tomorrow Overhaul will have failed, leaving him as the great winner of his sensei’s title. (Not that he ever needed to prove it, but if Overhaul wanted to pick a fight, he would not be the one to deny his wishes.)

Tonight, however, has nothing to do with all that, not when he’s finally back.

You’ve been waiting for his return by the window, searching for his frame in every shadow, a mug of chocolate warming your hands as the soup simmered over the stove. A warm meal made for him every night in case he decided to return, guessing he would be hungry and cold, wondering if it isn’t too much (but you care for him, so you do it anyway).

A supposition that turned out to be true, but Tomura had another solution in mind.

He’s a starving dog all hunger and demand, a wild vicious thing that looks at you feral and maddened, dripping with want and something far scarier that you don’t dare to name (but you do know, don’t you?).

You are no better than him, not when your fingers had traced patterns with his name across your body, spelling dreams and fantasies from your lips, remembering the way his fingers filled you and you wonder if he touched himself thinking about you too. The answer comes rather messy the moment his jagged mouth whimpers how much he missed you between whispers and moans that to you sound like poetry.

And he takes and takes and takes with deaf hands and sharp teeth, leaving bruises with the shape of his fingertips burned all over you as he bites and scratch and pull-out whimpers and pants from your mouth that echoes the frantic tune of his heart slamming against his ribs because he missed you so much it was painful.  

So, he had kissed you feverish, stomping you against the wall desperate and needing for your attention until you had pull him by the neck of his shirt to drag him into the bedroom, his brain completely forgetting about Overhaul’s existence the moment you push him to the edge of the mattress to sit in his lap, pulling the hem of his shirt for him to take it off, too focused in the heat prints your hands leave on his pale shoulders as something roars inside of his chest urging him to imprint his existence on your skin and possess the being that lives inside your bones.

Tomura paints a plethora of purple kisses over your neck and chest as a mark of his touch and your belonging. Something dark and twisted reverbing inside his ribs, inside his brain.

Mine; his mind repeats over and over again until he’s dizzied from the words, drunk in touch as your hands slither all over his sides, his chest and shoulders. His eyes marveling in the way skin holds together every angle of your flesh and the parts where your bones show from inside of your figure when he finally takes off your dress.

So soft, so beautiful and all his.

His kisses become raw and sharp and painful like the electric bond that ties you together by the ribs, all roughness and need, bruising lips and sinking teeth. Your moans and pants mixing now and then with some pained yelps and hisses of his name to call out on his harshness, but he chooses to make deaf ears to your pleas, too busy trying to gorge on your taste.

His teeth sink on your skin leaving marks like crescent moons that he kisses after you cry, pleasure and need pooling between your thighs, a tightness that burn inside your belly as you tangle your fingers in his hair, thinking briefly between the fog of your thoughts that it has grown, that it looks painfully beautiful on him like a crown of silver and moonlight.

Soon enough your legs lock around his bony hips, the choir of soft mewls and pants has become something far more animal; cries filling the room with each touch. White underwear remaining as the last barrier to your skin, leaving a wet stain over the fabric of his jeans.  

The room turns unbearable warm as your kisses become more slopy and open, letting him take your mouth just how he likes it as he registers the way the skin of your torso presses against his bare chest, your warmth spreading over, suffocating him.

Hooking a finger on your bra cup, Tomura pulls down and reveals the flesh hidden under the layers of lace, deciding already that this is his favorite image of you. Covered in love marks, wet and underwear ruined, your bra tucked under the curb of your breast. Something obscene and desperate about it, more crude than mere nakedness and it’s exactly how he likes it.

It looks lewd, it looks nasty. It looks like everything he wants to make of you, so he tightens his hold on your waist, making your back curve a little up to latch his mouth to your breast, sucking hard enough to draw a loud moan from your lips as you dig your nails on the muscle of his arms, delight shooting through your spine.

“Ow…fuck…” you pant with each pull of his mouth, and he chuckles darkly against your chest, amused and smug because he has you and he knows it, a sinister part of him (the vengeful scary one that wants to kill and maim and destroy) screaming that you belong to him from now on, that you’ll never leave, that he’ll never let you.

Mine, and mine alone he thinks and the thought sounds jarring and loud inside his head as he leaves bruises all over the skin that surround the buds of your chest, making you gasp over his lap.

“What? Wanna say something?” Tomura teases watching your expression, your eyes going wide the moment he slides your panties to the side and press his fingers inside you without warning.

“T-oh…Tomura…fuck…ow” you try to articulate but the words come out as blurred whispers.

“No bickering now?”

“Oh god…Tomura…please” you cry trembling, mouth watering with every touch of his palm over your nerve.

“Please what.”

You hide your face on the crook of his neck to bite him hard enough to make him bark an excited laugh, rejoicing in the fact that you are marking him too, before hooking his fingers inside you to make you moan loudly; hips moving automatically as one of your hands reach the hem of his pants and unbuttons his jeans to touch him back.

“I want you inside.”

He lets out a pretty hiss the moment your fist close around his length, caressing him tentatively until finding a pace, giving you a little victory over his rough teasing.

“I wanna tear you apart” he growls reaching deep inside of you, a wolf like grin slicing across his face baring his sharp teeth “you are a mess. All wet and begging for me to fuck you.”

“Tomura…”

“Fuck…you are so wet, all for me…my good girl, my good girl.” The words pour out of his mouth in feverish tone as his other hand clear the hair off your face before catching your lips on his again.

“Tomura, please…”

He snaps, turning you onto the mattress to climb over your body, throwing his jeans to the floor before leaning between your thighs as his hardness brushes over your clothed center. His patience has run thin though, so he yanks the panties by one side, closing all five fingers over the piece of fabric that flews to the floor before transforming into dust.

He lines up with your center, feeling the intimate touch before thrusting deep into you, ripping out a high moan that makes your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving scratching marks all over his pale skin in an attempt to steady yourself as your walls burn with the stretching.

No, he isn’t gentle this time, he just can’t bring himself to be soft when he feels like the awful infatuation he’s been harboring inside is about to tear his ribs open, pouring out for everyone to see the bloody mess you’ve made of his heart. So, he thrust hard like punishing you for it, snaping his hips fast and deep into you, trying to leave a bruise mark inside as well as one of his hands tangles between your hair, pulling and making you scream to the rhythm of your creaking bed.

He bottoms out the moment his arm hooks under your knee, as you tangle your other leg over his waist, giving him deepest access into you, his tip planting kisses against your cervix, rough friction and raw closeness sending you over the edge because he’s fucking you hard, making sure your screaming can be heard from the hall of the building.

It's brutal, yet you give him everything he wants and more because you like it like this, you like it because is him. The warmth of his body covering yours and you wonder if he can feel it too.

The terrific need of holding onto his body, his wicked smile, his bruised heart. The horror of your attachment to a person like him and what this represents, at the brim of ruining your life for love…

Love.

You are so in love with him.

“Look at me” he demands pulling your hair, a feral snarl across his sharp face darkening his features before kissing you hard, his tongue filling your mouth in lewd motion. “Fuck, you are so tight…I wanna split you in half.” His voice is a coarse and maddened sound against your lips, so close and intimate it’s scary because he’s sinking so deep it feels like he’s trying to rearrange your insides and his words do nothing but intensify the heat.

“Fuck…Tomura…it hurst…you’re so rough…so rough” You manage to blurt out, eyes boring into his.

“And you love it, don’t you?” he snarls tightening the grip on your hair. “You like how it feels…like I’m gonna split your pretty cunt in two. Huh? Say it, say it…”

“Fuck…yes…yes”

“Yes what.” He barks in a particularly harsh thrust that makes you scream like a wildling.

“I love it…fuck…like that…I love it…I love it.”

“You are mine…you hear me?” he prays over your mouth half ordering, half begging for you to go down with it and say that yes, that you’ll never leave him, that you’ll stay with him “All mine to fuck, mine, mine, mine, MINE!” he growls with every thrust as the bed slams hard against the wall until you are a babbling incoherent mess.

His brutal pace and words get you quiet soon, too much to even make a sound and hardly even allowing you to breathe, too concentrated in the feeling of his length and him smashing into your ending wall as the overwhelming touch of his hips and his abdomen on yours burns your skin.

The brush of his hair and ragged breathing fanning over your cheek is the only compass of time while the tightness in your belly threatens to snap the moment your teary eyes meet his, mouth on mouth without even kiss, but you smile to him, your warm hand caressing softly the skin of his jaw as he tears into you, feeling incapable of telling him what the voice of your mind has been playing over and over again.

I’m in love with you.

Like sensing your thoughts, his hands abandon your hair. Four trembling fingers cuddling your cheek, carefully and almost scared before closing his eyes, letting his forehead rest on yours as he whispers sweet words of praise only for you to keep, still forcing himself in and out of you. His mouth watering to the sight of your bouncing breast still trapped by your bra.

“ow…I’m gonna..Tomura…I’m gonna…”

The snap of his hips become erratic when finally you come undone on him, eyes rolling back and a cry that tears your throat open when your walls clench around his hardness making him moan as he keeps thrusting in and out, reaching his own end soon after; his hand closing tightly into a fist over the mattress as he grunts with his face hidden on the crook of your neck, filling you warm and slick until he goes soft inside of you.

Tomura pulls out and rests his head on your chest, his heart hammering against your belly, still trying to catch his breath; his fingers tracing mindless patterns over the shape of your waist, as your hands slide between the tangled locks of silver, lips laying little pecks over his crown.

Time slows down, minutes passing and quiet settles, he notices.

Quiet inside of him.

This is all he wanted from the moment he crossed the umbral of your door months ago. The insufferable itch silenced by the calming thump of your heart, fluttering softly behind the gate of your ribs and he wonders if maybe you’d have a room by your core where he could lay his bones to finally rest for a minute from all the rage and hate that burdens him.

Maybe you do have one, hidden and unspoken, a mirror of the one you occupy in the graveyard of his chest where he holds you beautiful and bright and…everything he doesn’t get to hate.

Yeah, he thinks you do. After all, he’s lying in your arms, isn’t it? You had caressed his face and marked his neck and back, all teeth and nails, to then crown him with a wreath of kisses, your body soft and still under his weight, while your hands brush carefully through his scalp.

He knows the feeling, he’s not stupid…but he doesn’t get to speak its name yet.

Is not that bad, after all. Being attached to you and the lullaby of your heartbeat could make him better, smarter, stronger. You could be another reason to fight and destroy. After all, in a society as rotten as this one, you’ll never be allowed to walk by his side if not by putting a bounty on your head too.

What the media would say about you? Would they catalog you as an S class villain? since your quirk is as deadly as it gets, you would be feared and hated. You can practically kill by just looking at someone and he’s not even sure if you really need to look to your target, after all.

And yet you are the kindest person he knows. If someone of the hero commission knew about this, you’d be hunted down despite your service as a doctor, despite your resolution to help whoever needs it, despite caring for those rotten and downthrown. And since you are critical of the system, you’d be reduced to just another animal to put down. Just like him.

Tomura swears he’ll decay every single person on the world before let that happen.

“Tomura…”

He rises his head to look at you, a question drawn across his face.

“Can you…move a little? My bra is killing me.”

“Ow…sorry about that.” He apologizes, curious eyes over the mark that the elastic has left over your skin as he sits by your side.

“Can you help me? I can’t reach the clip…”

“Sure…”  

You bend over to give him better access to your back, feeling his fingers brush over your skin carefully, before liberating you from the elastic straps incrusted on your flesh.

Tomura leans forward, placing soft kisses between your shoulder blades, letting his forehead rest over your spine and the touch is so sweet that it makes you wonder if maybe he does feel the same as you.

You get your answer when his hand moves forward to cup your breast, middle finger carefully up, as the other slides down between your thighs, making you sigh, feeling his hardness brushing your hip.

He nuzzles against your cheek, until you turn to kiss him deeply, warmth pooling between your legs again as his fingers play lazy between your slick entrance and the bundle of nerves. This time though, you take your chance and turn over, sitting on top before taking his wrist to lay kisses over the soft skin of his pulse.

Your quirk flares alive and before Tomura gets to catch on your intentions, his hands stand secured high against the headboard.

“What the…ow fuck!” He moans the moment your hand close over his length, pumping until he’s losing his breath, a ragged laugh scaping his jagged lips “fuck…you are an evil woman.”

“I should be proud if you say so.”

You accommodate over him, lowering until he fills you, pushing his previous release deeper into you.

Your pacing is torturingly slow and intense, soft moans and sweet whispers between languid kissed. Tomura watches hypnotized how your hips ride over the place you two connect, his crimson eyes half lidded as he lets you take him, before finally releasing your hold.

He touches you carefully this time, palming over the curve of your hipbone and your belly, index finger up as he wonders how deep is he, trying to feel himself from the outside, before pushing down to sink deeper into you, hitting the fragile spot where he makes you cry.

“I like you like this…” he speaks softly, looking you up from behind his eyelashes as you ride him slowly.

“How” your word is a whisper against his lips.

“Bare…” he rasps, his voice luring you into his embrace, spilling sweet nothing into his ear as he mumbles over and over again.

“My good girl…you are so good for me…”

This time you reach your peak softly. A sweet thing that fills you gently; walls fluttering around his oversensitive length while you keep rocking him until he stuffs you again, finally both falling back into the mattress side to side, already drifting into sleep, both tired and content.

A light touch catches your attention before falling unconscious. Tomura´s pinky hooks on yours as a silent plea, so you spill a peck over his shoulder before resting your temple on it, a sweet gesture that makes his heart tremble with fear and excitement for all the right reasons.

So, he does what he wants, sliding his arm under your neck and moving your head to rest on his chest. Over his heart he lays a fist for you to grip gently by the wrist before finally crowning you with soft kisses as the steady beat of his heart lulls you to dream.

Chapter 16 (soon)

[daisys-gard3n]

Hey, I'm sorry if your ask box isn't open, but after reading through a bunch of your hc posts,,, I was wondering if you had NSFW or SFW hcs for Formaggio? 👉👈

I currently don’t have headcanons for cheese boy, but let’s make some right now!

Formaggio Headcanons (SFW & NSFW) (GN reader)

SFW

A bf that’s also your best friend

You two actually started off as being close friends in La Squadra, always messing around during free time and clung to each other that could rival Sorbet and Gelato.

Then he realizes that you’re not just ‘one of the boys’, and that he had actual feelings for you.

The way he told you is super unromantic, he just walked up next to you while you were getting coffee before dropping: “Yo, (Y/n). I think I’m in love with you.”

Let’s just say he got a mouthful of lukewarm coffee sprayed on his face

After helping him clean up your mess, you just dropped: “I’ll go put this in the laundry pile...Oh, and I love you too Maggio. Have for a while.”

The pure embodiment of: “Close ur eyes bro, okay bro, what do you see bro? nothing bro, that’s my life without you bro, bro...”

You two call each other dude and bro romantically 

Always makes jokes to make you smile and laugh

100% will do this if you’re upset: “Aw, c’mon babe don’t be upset!...Ah! Is that a smile? I think I see a smile there~! You can’t frown around me, babe!”

The two of you equally share three brain cells

As Prosciutto calls it: “Idiots attract other idiots.”

Very chill BF. Want to go out with your friends on a friday night? Go ahead, just remember if a guy tries to come onto you just shank him! Meeting up with an old friend? Just bring him back something to eat! He’s working half the time, he doesn’t need to be jealous when you’re perfectly capable of curb stomping someone for him.

If someone were trying to hit on you round him, Formaggio just slithers in and puts an arm around your waste. “Hey, dollface! Talkin’ about somethin’ interesting?”

While giving him a smile of ill-intent. This usually gets the person to fuck off, but in those moments of the other person not bugging off: he just so happens to activate Little Feet with one of the toys he keeps for missions. Like toy cars, dollhouse furniture, etc.

100% lets you wear the jacket, to keep you warm and to make the other fuckers buzz off. It’s a win-win!

Have you ever seen someone just grab ass or titty for comfort? Maggi does: “What? My hand’s cold!”

If you ever find a hand on your ass, don’t worry it’s just Formaggio

Insists that you wear his clothes to bed or something like that, especially if you’re tinier than him bc it makes you adorable

He would enjoy a tiny s/o very much, as in teasing you all the time but in a loving way 

He will purposefully put everything on high shelves so that either he gets to watch you struggle or he gets called in for help

Dates include: bars, restaurants/cafes, movie theatres, and long car rides

Somehow, you automatically just sit in his lap. Not in a sexual way, more like: “Hey, did you remember to get bread at the store?” “Ah shit, I forgot.”

Likes it when you give him head massages while his head is on your lap, he’ll fall asleep immediately

Slings you over his shoulder to drag you away from things: “Get your ass away from the paperwork, time to eat~!” “PUT ME DOWN, MAGGI!”

Lives for eskimo kisses

Gets embarrassed if Illuso and Melone tease him about being whipped for you, but he plays it off: “What? Pff, you guys are nuts.” “Then tell me why did I see a receipt for that expensive dessert shop in the trash?” “OH, NOW WE’RE DIGGIN’ THROUGH THE TRASH LIKE ANIMALS?!”

Says he’s not clingy when he’s pretty much hugging you or holding on some part of you all the time

I hope you’re a heavy sleeper, because he moves and saws logs in his sleep

you wake up with his face on top of your, drooling on you

Calls you dollface, babe, and bambina/o for terms of endearment

Smells like pine and very musky 

NSFW

This man is an ass man, what can I say? He’s always slapping your ass or groping it outside of the bedroom, so there’s a lot of attention there during sex

Likes to rub his cock against your cheeks while you’re on your back or doing it doggy style

Lots of spanking and bruises on your ass later

He likes positions where he can see your ass, like doggy or reverse cowgirl: “Damn, babe. Your ass looks good like this while you take my cock.”

If you have tights or bottoms that make your booty look voluminous, they’re gonna end up with a ripped hole in the middle bc Formaggio decided right there to fuck you with them still on. 

Likes giving you rimjobs as much as regular oral.

If you let him do anal, he’s gonna ask what size ring you wear lol.

“F-Fuck, dollface! You’re so tight, hng-ah...I might marry you so I can have this ass as much as I want.”

Loves it when you give him blowjobs, he’s pretty much butter in your hands: “H-Hah, right there! God, you suck my cock so good bambina/o. Mm, you wanna get me to (eat your pussy/suck your cock) after? O-Oh fuck, take all me down your throat!”

Sex is pretty casual for him, he won’t do extreme stuff but he also likes the bonding. So sex happens in situations like just waking up or getting horny after seeing you being domestic. 

“You look sexy this morning, babe. Care to wake up for me?”

“Have I ever told you that you look hot wearing that apron? I did? Well, I can give you more testimonies if you still don’t believe me.”

Likes clothed sex, for quickies or exhibition moments just outside of people’s view. 

“Fuck, babe, I can’t help it! You just look so good in that outfit, c’mon I’ll just move some stuff around-No one’s gonna see, I promise.”

A sucker for cheesy sexy outfits: like those roleplaying costumes in bad pornos. His favorite is the cop and the nurse outfit.

“What ever did I do officer~? You gonna arrest me for being bad?”

“Can you help me with something, nurse? I have something hurting that only you can solve~”

Is willing to sub, but it’s because he doesn’t want to do anything that day: “H-Hng, fuck babe-A-Ah, I’m sorry (Daddy/Mommy)! P-Please continue!”

I think it’s pretty obvious he has a size kink fetish, he’ll practically worship you if you’re tinier than him. If not, he’ll bring out little feet to shrink you a little bit:

“You’re so tiny compared to me...Mm, yeah, you tryna’ suck my cock but can’t fit it inside? You’re so cute, it’s hot.”

“Fuuuucckk, you’re shrinking around me and it feel so good. I can see my cock bulge out of you, fucking hell. Mm, is it too big for you? C’mon, I’ll help you out, dollface. Just push through for me, okay?”

Honestly, he offers oral to you if he’s bored: “Hey, can I (suck your cock/eat you out)?” “Maggi, we’re in a drive-thru.” “Never stopped anyone before.”

Has a very lazy and messy style of giving oral, so a lot of his own saliva will be on you as he gives you this lazy aroused look in his eyes while you cum in his mouth.

If you ever give him a lapdance, he’ll be sitting back and enjoying the music while watching your body. He’s gonna touch sooner or later, especially if your ass is close 

In a modern era, he definitely sends bulge and dick pics - to which it descends into full on phone sex

Will ask for your permission to record you in the midst of sex for his own safe keeping, mostly for jerk-off material when he’s off on a mission far away

You can’t wear anything relatively new around him, because there’s a 50/50 chance it’ll end up ripped

He gets super tired after sex (he lasts up to 3 rounds btw), so the most he goes for aftercare is force you to the bathroom so you won’t get a UTI and clean you off before passing out

If you try to give him a blow job with people around, the moment they leave he’ll smirk at you: “You tryna’ suck my dick around my teammates? Someone’s horny today, not that I mind though~”

Loud in bed, so make sure no one’s home before trying to get it on or you’ll suffer from days of teasing

5′9″, average-sized but more on the girthier side, uncut (if you convince him, you might get matching piercings down there)

[amateur-authorial-aspirations]

Another short story! It's about the same length as the last one, around 3k words. I don't have a title for this one, though.

Not sure what trigger warnings to add for this but uh it's about a family that's kinda broken and a mom that was very neglectful, and there's stuff about sickness and hospitals. Oh and food.

~~~~~~~~~~

The only thing I wanted to inherit from my mother was the recipe for her chicken soup.

My mom—well, she did her best with us, I guess, but her best mostly involved working long nights at a lousy job and occasionally showing up at school events to clap for us. The rest of the time, she was either drinking Bud Lights out on the porch or passed out from some combination of exhaustion and intoxication, sprawled on her bed or wherever she happened to collapse. I'd put a blanket over her, sometimes, but usually I was too busy cooking dinner, or helping my younger siblings with their homework, or doing one of the million other things that wouldn't get done unless I did them.

The one thing she always got right, though, was when I was sick. She had crazy good hearing, like an owl or something, and if I so much as sneezed, in an instant she'd have me tucked into bed and a pot of chicken soup on the stove. That soup—dear God, my mouth still waters just thinking about it. It was like she took carrots and celery and a chicken straight from the dirt of a farm somewhere and cooked it in, I don't know, the tears of an angel. A little salty, and just heavenly. And the whole time I was sick, whether puking my guts up in the bathroom or just sniffling a little, she was the perfect mother—she picked Brett and Ashley up from school, cooked three meals a day, helped them with their homework, everything.

Even years and decades after I'd moved as far from her as I could get, whenever I was sick, I'd get an awful hankering for that chicken soup. I'd whine and moan and throw a feeble, snotty tantrum until someone made some for me, and my husband tried, bless his soul, but it just wasn't the same. Sometimes I'd try, too, once I was feeling better, but it was never as good as my mom's, no matter what I did. I thought about calling and asking her once or twice, usually when a bout of illness coincided with a fight with my kids. I'd be aching and shivering, feeling bad enough about my own parenting that I could almost forgive her, and when the craving hit, I'd start to reach for the phone, but—

No. I'd worked so hard to get her out of my head, and I didn't know if I could do it all over again.

I remember it was raining the day Ashley called with the news. I could tell she was upset right away, but when she told me why, I almost dropped the phone.

"Hello?" she said, her voice choked. "Kathy, you still there?"

"Yeah," I rasped, "I'm here. I… I don't know what to say. I mean, cancer? God. Is she okay?"

"Yes. For now, at least. We don't know how long she'll stay that way, though."

"I don't know what to say," I repeated. It was true; I felt like someone had stuck my brain in a freezer.

"Say you'll come see her. And before you say no—"

"What? No. Absolutely not."

"Before you say no, think about how much it would mean to her. And to me. To all of us. We could finally be a family again, you know? One last time."

"I'm not putting myself through that so you can get our family picture taken, Ash."

"Come on, Kathy. I know you're mad at her, but—"

"I'm not mad. I just don't owe her anything."

"But—"

"And I don't owe you anything, either."

"Okay, that is not—"

I hung up. Then I threw my phone at the couch. It rang a moment later, but I just took a deep breath in, let it out slowly, and walked out of the room, the tinny music fading as I closed the door behind me. Then it started again.

Brett called about an hour later. I let it ring.

He understood a little better than Ashley, I think, but she was his little sister, the baby of the family. I was sure he'd side with her.

But, after a long talk with my husband and a couple days of stewing, I decided to go after all. I might not have owed my mother anything, but I owed it to myself to not leave any questions hanging. Besides, if she was really dying… it felt bad, felt heartless, to refuse to visit an old, sick woman.

Brett met me at the airport, a box of chocolate in hand.

"Nate with the kids?" he asked.

"Yeah. Those for Mom?"

"No," he said with a small chuckle, "for you."

I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Honestly, Kathy, you're a saint. I don't know if I'd have come, if I were you."

"You did come, though."

"Yeah, but it wasn't the same for me. Or Ashley. You know that better than I do."

"Well, I'm not here for Mom, anyway."

It was Brett's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"I mean, I'm here to see her, but it's for me."

"And for Ashley?"

"And kinda for Ashley."

We both laughed a little. Then he handed me the chocolate and started loading my suitcases into the trunk of his car.

When we pulled up to the house, Ashley ran out to greet me, but Brett pulled her aside as I went around to the back of the car. I couldn't hear what he said, but her face sank. She nodded tightly and went back inside.

I tugged my suitcase up over the curb and pulled it down a concrete pathway that cut through calf-height grass and weeds to the front of Ashley's one-story, vinyl-sided house that had been painted in a shade of yellow so bright it turned my stomach, though I'm sure my sister thought it "sunny" or some such thing. Part of the roof was sagging on one side.

Looking at that house, part of me couldn't help feeling guilty. I mean, I wasn't rich, and Ashley and her family certainly weren't starving, but it was hard not to draw comparisons to my own home, spacious and immaculate and halfway across the country, and wonder if there wasn't more I should be doing. Not that she'd accept assistance if I offered it; if anything, she'd just get angry, and things between us were already so tense... but, still. I didn't think there would ever come a day that I saw her struggling and didn't want to help.

Lost in thought, I walked in the door and headed straight for the rear of the house, almost passing the small living room on the right, but then a quiet cough sounded. I whipped my head toward the noise, freezing in place as I took in the hospital bed that been set up where a couch used to be. Took in its white-haired occupant.

After a moment, I cleared my throat. "Hi, Mom."

She looked so tiny and fragile lying there, her feet barely reaching halfway down the bed, her skin pale and papery. Nothing like the hard-drinking, loud-talking woman who had stomped through my childhood with the force of a bulldozer, hurtling herself headfirst at anything that dared to stand in her way. No, there was no sign of that woman in this dimly lit room that smelled of sickness and floral air freshener.

"Hi, Kathy," said this person I no longer recognized. "It's so good to see you."

"Wish I could say the same," I blurted before I could think better of it, but she just laughed, a dry, gravelly chuckle that ended in a hacking cough.

"Well," she said after a minute, when she was breathing normally again, "I can't say I was expecting much better, after everything I put you through. And I guess that's what I get for smoking so damn much."

"Wait." My face screwed up in confusion. "Since when did you smoke?"

"Oh, it was a long time ago. I tried to quit for years, but it never stuck until I got pregnant with you. I guess knowing I had someone else depending on me was the push I needed."

I let out a sharp bark of laughter, once again reacting without thinking and immediately wishing I'd kept my mouth shut. Not because I hadn't meant it; I had, but it wasn't like me, to be so sarcastic and mean-spirited. This tired, bitter woman was just as foreign to me as the little old lady she was mocking.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm sure you thought that was a heart-warming story about one time you actually did take care of me, but that's the thing, right? You did get it right sometimes. Which means the rest of the time… that was a choice. And I could forgive you for being weak or sick or crazy, but you weren't any of those things. Like, when I was sick, you were always so good. And I'd eat your chicken soup, and I'd think, maybe this time. Maybe this time she'll keep it up. But then I'd get better, and you'd go right back to leaving us to fend for ourselves, and it would hurt even worse because I knew what it felt like to be taken care of. You know I've got kids now, right? I'm sure Ashley's told you. So I know what it feels like, when you're tired down to your bones and you don't know how to keep going. But still, every single day, I choose to go on anyway, to be there for my kids, because I love them too much not too. So either you just didn't love us enough, or you did, and you still chose not to take care of us. I don't know which it is, or which would be worse. But I know I can't forgive you."

The words had all come out in a rush, as if some long-stoppered bottle of feelings inside me had suddenly come pouring from my lips, getting bigger and angrier as I went, and I had to stop for a second, take a deep breath in, let it out slowly.

"So," I went on, more calmly now, "I'll be here for a week. We'll play nice, for Ashley and her kids, and because we are civilized people. And I really am sorry about what you're going through. But when I leave, I don't want to hear from you again, and I don't want you bothering Ashley about me."

With that, I turned on my heel, not waiting for a reply, and marched down the hall to the guest room.

Only after I closed the door and collapsed onto the bed did I think about who else might have been in the house. I really hoped Ashley's kids hadn't overheard my tirade. Or Ashley herself, for that matter. I didn't like this nasty streak my mother brought out in me, and whatever my feelings for her, being a good sister and aunt was more important.

But when I emerged a little while later, cool and composed and determined to stay that way, I found everyone gathered around the big wooden table in the kitchen, Ashley presiding over it all with a wooden spoon and a hearty laugh.

Her eyes lit up when she saw me in the doorway. "Kathy! Come in, come over here." She was beaming as I made my way past the treacherous tangle of cooking implements brandished by small hands to where she stood at the stove, stirring a sizzling pan of vegetables. "So," she said in a low voice, one that no one else would hear over the general hubbub, "things went well with Mom? Brett seemed to think there'd be some… unpleasantness, but she said you guys talked? Worked things out?"

I cast a wary glance to where my mom sat at the table between Brett and Ashley's husband Blake, but her attention was fully occupied by her grandchildren and the silly song they were singing as they worked on their "cooking."

"Yeah," I said with a small, sad smile, "I guess we did." And we had, I supposed, if not in the way Ashley hoped.

The rest of the visit flew by in a whirl of babysitting and doctor's visits and pasted-on smiles. Before I knew it, the last day had arrived. My flight out was scheduled for late afternoon, but I woke early, intending to take a walk in the cool darkness just before sunrise, for the fresh air and exercise and much-needed time to myself. But when I went to open the front door, something felt off, and I realized I couldn't hear the snoring that that had echoed through the small house every night this week.

With a gasp, I turned and rushed to my mother's side. "Ashley!" I shouted as I fumbled for the switch on the lamp and tried to remember what little first aid I knew. Running footsteps clattered along the floor, then stopped somewhere behind me. "Ashley, I don't think she's breathing."

"Oh, dear God," said Ashley, and then her phone was out and she was talking to someone.

The minutes that passed before the ambulance arrived felt like seconds and hours and days all at once. Blake was there, he was doing something I vaguely recognized as CPR, but I had no idea if it was working. Then it was flashing lights and paramedics in uniforms and Ashley had to stay with the kids so I was the one climbing into the back of the ambulance, and the siren was blaring as we raced through the streets and swerved around corners, everything swaying and rattling as I clung desperately to my mother's hand.

When we got to the hospital, they carted her off through a set of swinging doors, and all too soon it was just me, standing alone under the fluorescent lights, shaking. The air around me seemed to pulse, and the too-clean antiseptic smell of the hallway had me ready to vomit.

I don't know how long I stood there, staring in shock at the big red letters on the smooth metal doors. NO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL BEYOND THIS POINT. It felt like forever.

But it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before Brett was there, wrapping me in his jacket and leading me to a chair. I think there were tears in his eyes, but I was too numb to cry. Or to talk. So we just sat there in silence, his arms around me, until Ashley came in with a million questions that I couldn't even process, much less answer. Everything the paramedics and doctors said had shot right past me in a blur of unintelligible sound. Ashley seemed about ready to shake me in frustration, but Brett took her to look for the doctors who would have the answers I couldn't give her. He left me his jacket, but I still missed his comforting warmth.

A few hours later, I was sitting on a hard plastic chair in a cold, drab room, watching over my mother as she slept. She looked even stranger now, with her face all calm and peaceful, content in a way I had never seen her before. In my lap was a tray from the hospital cafeteria, a styrofoam bowl of steaming-hot soup at its center.

Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open, and I leapt to my feet in excitement, launching the tray from my lap and dumping the soup all over the floor.

"Ah!" I exclaimed, looking frantically around the room for something with which to mop up the rapidly spreading puddle of broth. "I'm so sorry, I just wanted to bring you soup, like you always used to make me when I was sick, and I know it's not the same, but I just thought… well, and now I've gone and made a mess of it, haven't I?" My gaze locked on the box of tissues on the bedside table, and I practically lunged for them, but I was stopped by a gentle touch on my arm.

"Forget about the mess, Kathy, just come sit next to me." My mother gestured to the chair that was closest to her bed, and I sat down obediently. She let out a small, quiet laugh. "Goodness, I'd almost forgotten about the chicken soup."

"I don't know what you put in it, but that soup was the best thing I ever tasted."

She looked up at me sharply, confusion etched in the lines of her face. "What?"

"Don't worry, I'm just reminiscing, not trying to weasel any secret ingredients out of you."

This time, her laugh was raucous. "Secret ingredients? Kathy, the only secret ingredient in that stuff was a can of chicken soup from the supermarket."

Now I was the confused one. "What?"

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry if you thought I was making some special family recipe, but you must've got that idea from some fever dream. Don't you remember what a terrible cook I am? The only things I could ever make came out of cans or boxes or little plastic packets."

After a moment, I couldn't help but laugh as well. "Yeah, that sounds about right. I probably should've known."

I ended up missing my flight and staying for an extra week. Mostly, I stayed at the house, helping Ashley with chores or the kids, but I visited the hospital a few times, too.

When I finally got home, a small, white envelope was waiting for me in the mailbox, my name and address scrawled across the back. Careful not to tear it, I peeled open the flap and pulled out a single sheet of lined paper covered in the same messy handwriting.

Mom's Chicken Soup

Ingredients:

1 12-oz can of condensed chicken soup

1 canful of water

Combine ingredients in saucepan and heat over medium high, stirring occasionally, until warm and bubbling slightly. Let cool to your desired temperature and serve with a side of high fever and delirium.

On the back was a brief note.

Thought you should have at least one family recipe.

With a small smile, I tucked the paper back into the envelope and turned to go inside, my heart feeling strangely light and heavy at the same time. And as I looked up to see my two beautiful, wonderful children come running out to greet me, I couldn't help feeling that my front door was not the only one that had just been opened.

[turniptrekking]

the zodiac signs except its my dumbass friends

ARIES: they come in two flavors: anime geek who loves to scream and literally every teacher hates them, or super pure and probably an angel in disguise. if they’re the first variety then watch out. they have constant detentions although they’re super smart, and fails every class because they just don’t care. if they’re the second flavor, then they’re the pure one or the baby of the friend group. the whole group would protect them with their life. holds grudges for years though

TAURUS: another two flavors: either very arrogant and thinks they’re better than everyone else or a huge crowd pleaser and the most popular person at school. if it’s the first one, then they’re literally math geniuses. they pretend to hate you but secretly would do anything for you. such a sweetheart honestly, although they won’t give you answers on tests. if it’s the second one, they’re the popular kid who’s actually really nice to everyone. is sooooooooooooo kind to every person they mees, and overuses the word broski like crazy. an athlete, and eats all the snacks. 

GEMINI: one main flavor: LOUD. they are soooooooooooooooooooooooooo loud and chatty, especially around the people they want to impress. always screaming and ships everyone in harry potter (which is why they’re best friends with cancer) they’re so loud omg my ears. really likes pockets and loves to dress up. bougie af and enjoys the finer things in life, although they have ZERO. MONEY. always steals money. you do NOT want to be their enemy, they know everything about everyone. BLACKMAIL!!!!!

CANCER: two flavors: one is very emotional and easily upset, and the other is super whiny. the first one needs everyone to be happy or else they can’t be happy. thinks electronics suck and that books are the way to go. sports geek. the other flavor however is glued to their phone 24/7 and reads wattpad during class. hates school and always whining about how their life is so hard when they can’t afford mcdonalds. also, rich but shares all the money with their friends. they’re best friends with gemini because they both like expensive things, and they both obsess over fanfiction. 

LEO: one major flavor: has a different personality for every person they meet. is the type to give candy to everyone in class for valentines day, even people they don’t like. very popular, and says “broooooooooooo” all the time. really smart but hates school like aries. very sexual, always talking about their ass. will literally slam their head into a pole for 20 dollars because they spent all their money on shoes. hates people who spend too much, but that’s exactly what they are.

 VIRGO: one main flavor: sweetheart. kids a lot, always making jokes about his friends, but they have the best intention. if you need something from them, they’ll always listen to what you have to say and do their best. popular, cool, calm, and a major athlete. HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTTTTTTTT. there, i said it. so attractive and everyone knows it, but they all tease them about it. the type to remember your birthday and go out of their way to bake a cupcake just for you to make you feel special. 

LIBRA: one major flavor: scary as hell. will “curb stomp a hoe” in their own words. will literally blow you for money and attracts everyone. heartbreaker, they’ll play with your heart and stomp it on the floor. slacker, but one with style. passionate about the things they love. great actor, because they dramatic af. the type to watch crime shows for HOURS. date night = sky diving. super daring and a matchmaker, ships all their friends

SCORPIO: so many flavors, four at the top of my head. one of them is a total dumbass, but such a sweet person. failing every class but everyone loves them because they’re so kind. “it’s not a phase it’s a lifestyle” they say after eating the 90th chicken nugget. another is SUPER smart, child einstein. nice, but you can’t really have a convo with them because they’re too busy planning how to end global warming by themselves. probably speaks at least 5 languages. another is a total psycho, watches porn constantly and a horny little bitch. anime hoe and is super scary to people who don’t know them. tough love, always yelling at people but secretly loves them. the last one is quiet and soft spoken. sweet, kind and loves their friends

SAGITTARIUS: three flavors: super smart and will literally correct you if f you make the smallest mistake, throws their degrees in your face. “its OFFEN, not OFF-TEN” same energy as “its leviOsa, not LEviosAaAaaa” another is a major athlete and class clown. all the teachers hate them but all the students love them, they make the class that much more fun. the third one is so much fun to be around but so chaotic. will send memes at two am usually followed by “UBOUBEUVOBEOVB” super sarcastic which makes them great friends with pisces, who is also extra af

ill finish this up soon, probably next monday :)

[mor-beck-more-problems]

The Fast and the Furious: Spectral Drift || Morgan, Nell, & Constance

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @nelllraiser @constancecunningham @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Just gals being pals.

CONTAINS: car theft, drowning

For once, Nell was gaining a moment of mediocrity in her otherwise far too lively existence. Not that she minded the chaos. Parts of her thrived on it, but she’d been learning as of late that not all chaos was good, and a spot of normality was welcome in an otherwise unforgiving world. She and Morgan had gathered at Coffee Plus, taking advantage of the quiet day to do a bit of catching up between one another. Leaning forward to take a hearty bite of her chocolate muffin, Nell finished chewing and swallowed before finishing the story she’d launched into. “I’m just saying- maybe if he couldn’t handle the whole sandwich, he shouldn’t have stuck his fingers in the hanyo.” Her tone was bright with a laugh as she remembered the ridiculous expression that had been on the man’s face. Ready to launch into another joke about the poor guy’s predicament, she stopped mid-sentence— realization dawning over her as movement caught the corner of her eye. “Morgan...isn’t that...your car?” Pointing towards the vehicle in question, Nell stood to get a better look. Sure enough, she recognized the license plate that was ever so slowly inching away from the curb, the back of a mysterious head seeming to fumble with the controls. “Someone’s taking your car!”

Morgan was relieved that Nell wasn’t so bothered by her Constance drama as Blanche had been. She missed her young friends and whatever good she was able to imagine she did for them by being around. They certainly did plenty enough for her. Nell, especially, never backed down from a fight or a favor if it seemed right to her, and she could brighten any day with stories from her daily whirlwind adventures. Even though Morgan couldn’t really enjoy anything at the cafe, she didn’t feel ill at ease slurping at her seltzer water with Nell across the table. Listening to the latest turn, Morgan couldn’t help but snort. “You know not everyone is in your league, right, Nell?” She asked. “A lotta guys who call themselves brave would pee their pants getting up to some of the stuff you do. Although, gotta say, even I’m not woman enough to go anywhere near that ‘hanyo’ stuff, even for money.”

She had another question on her lips when Nell’s face changed. “M-my what?” She couldn’t have heard that right. But she followed Nell’s finger and— “That fucking bitch,” she hissed, tearing her bag off the chair. “I gotta go, I’m sorry, Nell, you might wanna run.” She stumbled outside in disbelief. “You’ve got three seconds to get out of my fucking car!” She cried.

Constance jumped, startled at the fury in the woman’s face. She was still getting used to being seen by any old soul, and not just her fellow damned and dead. She could still get out. Apologize for the mischief. This crime was small, impulsive, childish. She had only been wondering at the miraculous contraptions since they had first frightened her months ago. And seeing Morgan, this other Agnes, slide in and out of hers with more pride than any girl she’d seen give to a bicycle. It hadn’t even been locked. How grateful could this woman be for it if she didn’t think to have it locked? Thus, Constance’s resolve solidified. “I think you’re wrong!” She called. Her foot tested one of the pedals and a delicious roar came out of the engine. “I only need three to get away with it.” She moved the lever next to her and pushed the pedal again. The automobile shot backwards, crunching into something behind her. Constance fixed the lever again and she was flying forward, into the road like a comet. “Try and stop me, Bachman!” She cried.

Immediately electing to ignore Morgan’s recommendation of running, Nell’s head whipped around in search of something that might help, an idea that could get Morgan’s car back, and possibly give Constance some hell at the same time. It came to her in the form of a bright and shiny sedan someone was just pulling up in, putting their own vehicle into park alongside the curb. They didn’t have a chance to take the keys out of the ignition before Nell was on them. “Can I borrow this?!” she yelled at the startled driver who was frozen in shock. His confused voice matched the hopeless alarm on his face.

    “Wha-? No! It’s my car! Who the hell are you?” Without answering, Nell wrenched open the driver side door, grabbing the shirt of the poor man to firmly remove him from his seat, and deposit him on the asphalt. “Sorry!” Nell quickly apologized, another idea quickly coming to her. “Uh- official police business! Detective Vural thanks you for your service and so does White Crest!” It’d only taken her a quick second to Summon the fake badge she’d magically made when she’d pretended to be police to Regan and shove it into the face of the driver. As Constance and Morgan’s car rocketed down the street, Nell quickly put her ‘borrowed’ car into gear, also ignoring the fact that she didn’t have a license, and had mostly driven tractors. “Morgan!” she called out, rolling the car to her friend. “Morgan, get in! We’ll catch her!”

Morgan screeched with outrage. “My girlfriend bought me that Subaru!” She started pelting the car with whatever she had on hand. Her drinking straw, crumpled up receipts, post it notes, half used packs of Trident, pens, embroidery needles, her planner. They all bounced off the red car and fell pathetically into the road as Constance reversed right into a light pole, switched gear, and drove straight into traffic.

Morgan followed her as far as the stoplight, screaming wordlessly until the car behind her honked. “Hey, lady! Don’t make us late too!”

Morgan stumbled back into the parking lot, just in time to see Nell wielding a police badge as she dove into a random suburbanite sedan. “D-detect--yeah! Detective Stryder thanks you for your service too! Call the station with my name if you have any questions!” She didn’t slide so much as topple into the shotgun seat, junk still spilling from her bag. “And thank you!” She called behind her. They sped off in the direction Constance had gone, fast enough for Morgan to feel plastered to her seat before she could even buckle up. “I uh--didn’t know you had a lot of getaway experience, Nell,” she said, laughing breathlessly.

Broken glass and confused drivers littered the road ahead of them. Skid marks striped the road. Up ahead, the faintest streak of banged up red zig zagged through the lanes before jumping the curb and tearing into the town common.

A snarky chuckle fell from Nell as the familiar name of Marley Stryder was thrown into the mix. “I didn’t know you knew Marley,” she said as casually as a person could while beginning to give chase to a car that had been hijacked by a ghost who could have belonged in Downton Abbey for all Nell was concerned. As for getaway experience… “Oh, I don’t! Unless you count racing games and tractors!” she answered brightly, the rush of piloting a car that was careening down the street in a chase already causing delicious adrenaline to pump through her veins. It’d been a long while since she’d gotten to enjoy a high like this without also fearing for her life. “Actually, I’ve always wanted to drive a getaway car! Or be in a car chase! I just didn’t think I’d get to since I don’t have my license or whatever.” The witch dropped the news as if it were the most inconsequential fact one could say at a time like this, accelerating all the while. A light turned red. Nell didn’t hesitate as she blew through the intersection. Thankfully, Constance had run the same light, clearing the way for Nell to pass through safely. “Don’t worry, we’ll get her!” In a jerky movement, Nell followed the ghost onto the grass of the common.

“We’re acquainted,” Morgan said, wincing at the memory. It clearly wasn’t in any way that could be considered ‘good.’ “Wait, what do you mean you--oh my fuck, Nell, no!” Morgan yanked the wheel, swerving the car away from a tree, bouncing painfully back onto the street. She could see her red Subaru swerving down towards the docks in the distance, the bumper just barely hanging on and sending a fireworks show worth of sparks down the street. “She can’t get much farther like this,” she hissed between her teeth. Morgan let go of the wheel and reached into her bag for her salt pistol.

This wasn’t really the ideal time for Nell to question Morgan further about her and Marley’s relationship, even if her need to be nosy was in full force and trying to get her to ask anyway. Later, she told herself before punching her foot to the gas once more. “Hey!” she objected as Morgan jerked the wheel. “I wasn’t gonna hit it! Talk about a backseat driver,” Nell grumbled. But the disgruntled mood was quickly past her. How could she stay upset when she was zooming along in a car chase? A grin split over her lips as she took the time to roll her window down, laughing as the wind whipped her hair with the sudden gust of air. “What is that?” Nell asked, not entirely sure what kind of gun the strange thing in Morgan’s hands was. However, she did know that if Morgan was going to get any kind of decent shot, they needed to be closer. Yet again, Nell stomped on the gas, laying the pedal flat against the floor of the car. Finally, she managed to catch up to Morgan’s car, the front bumper of Nell’s ‘borrowed’ car kissing against the back of Morgan’s Subaru. The nudge was more than enough to knock the Subaru’s bumper loose. “Ha!” Nell exclaimed as the piece of plastic clattered beneath them before remembering that it was Morgan’s car she’d just tapped. “Ah- I mean- oops?”

Morgan cried out to see her poor bumper. Her fingers stretched out helplessly to the windshield. “S-subaru…” she whispered. That did it. Morgan cranked down the windshield, because of course it still had a fucking crank, and leaned out, pistol raised. Three short pops burst through the air. Three brusts of smoke. The salt rounds exploded against  the Subaru. One landed in the spiderweb break in a window, melting on contact.

Constance’s joy was short lived. These monstrosities were no relief, no freedom. The beastly thing seemed to have a mind of its own! Then the windows began to cave in, dripping with salt. “No, no, no, no…” She whimpered. She tried moving the lever, but this only made the car jerk and fit. Panicked, she rammed her foot to the pedal. The automobile screamed as if she’d cursed it and spun out of her control. Constance shifted, ready to drift out like it was no matter of all, but no, her solid form was now her prison. The automobile crashed onto the docks. Wood shattered everywhere in its wake. Finally, it came to a stop, and Morgan Beck, the last of the Bachmans, was right behind her. Constance picked her way out of the debris and stumbled into the car’s path, her body clenched and unyielding. Let her do her worst, cruel coward that she was. To ruin even one of her ill-gotten treasures was worth the trouble this had cost.

As Morgan hung out the window of the car, Nell reached for her own door handle— ready to launch herself into whatever showdown it was that Constance was hoping to have here. What she was going to do she wasn’t all that sure yet. But Nell had to do something. If she didn’t, who knew if there would be another Maxine sooner rather than later? But as her hand reached for the plastic of the handle, she heard a click of the locks, and in a single second the witch found herself momentarily trapped in the car by some no good ghost mischief. If only it had stayed mischievous rather than lethal. Before Nell could so much as search for the unlocking mechanism, a weightlessness overtook her. She was...flying? No, the entire car was flying. Straight over the side of the dock as Constance wielded her power once more, sending the borrowed vehicle right into the hungry fingers of the waiting waves of the ocean. Morgan was gone from the window before Nell could make sense of what was happening, probably thrown adrift by the sheer force of the launch. And then...an icy coldness as water began to pour in through the open window, the car sinking steadily below the surface of the water while Nell remained trapped inside. She jerked uselessly at the handle as more saltwater began to fill the cab of the car, it not taking long to rise to her knees. It seemed whatever Constance had used to keep the doors shut wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Constance, don’t.

The voice wasn’t in Constance’s ears, but it shook through her strange body as she tried to stop the car. Locking it was no matter to her, but the rest, becoming an immovable object to its unstoppable force. If she were her full self, it would already be in the air. If she were herself, she could have gotten hands around Morgan and snapped her to pieces. She could have thrown her across the room, smashed her up and down and gathered the dust of her bones for--

Constance, don’t.

It was the girl’s voice. Blanche Harlow. And in remembering her warning, Constance stepped back from her rage. But the car was already trembling in her grip. There was someone besides Morgan inside. Another girl, as frightened as the school children had been, maybe more. She could see Constance. She knew exactly what was happening to her, and perhaps even why. Constance let go, it was too much, all of this was too much, she didn’t want to be cruel to innocents, but she couldn’t let Morgan cower behind her friends all the time either! Constance’s self-control was like that of a child and the car didn’t come gently down to rest. It soared into the water and crashed through its depth, hard enough to disrupt the waves. Constance watched it sink, helpless to move, to think. “Help!” She screamed at last. “Someone help! There was a crash, did you see a crash? The automobile just-- there’s more than one person inside there! Help!” She sprinted up the docks, arms waving like mad. “Help me, please!”

Even Morgan’s zombie nerves felt her body hit the water. She plummeted downwards, muscles burning as she wriggled to slow herself down. The ocean was veiled in salt and murk before her eyes, but she could just make out the outline of the subaru in the distance. She opened her mouth once to call, only realizing how stupid that was when water rushed into her mouth. Fuck. She had to get to her. She was not losing another person to this spoiled brat of a witch. I’m coming, Nell. I’ll make this right.

As the water got higher, and only the murky depths of the ocean could be seen out her driver’s side window, Nell screwed her eyes shut for a long moment— trying to assess, to find her way out. She hadn’t come all this fucking way to die via being tossed into the ocean by a god damned ghost. The sound of rushing water, and the coldness of it rising to chest height was enough to push Nell into action, and in a quick moment she’d drawn one of her hidden daggers, slamming the butt of it against a backseat window. It did what it was meant to, shattering the glass and allowing more water to fill the car. The witch couldn’t remember where she’d heard it, but somewhere along the way she’d gotten it into her brain that letting the car fill with water would make it easier to open the door and make her escape. A quick spell made easy work of the locks, and the whole handle flew off of the side of the door as the dire need of the situation had given her a little too much juice when it came to casting. Whatever. It would work. She’d been submerged enough to float towards the roof of the car at this point, and now all there was left to do was wait. Wait for the car to finish filling. Wait for the perfect moment to take her last breath and make a break for it. Finally, the moment came— and she took a shuddering and deep last breath of precious air as the car became entirely filled.

Nell fumbled it. Half of her final breath became water where there should have been air, and suddenly a reflexive cough was wracking her. In all of two seconds...her air was spent, and she hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet. It didn’t matter. That was what she told herself. It didn’t matter because dying wasn’t an option. Kicking open the door, it felt like time moved in slow motion as she finally came out from the car. She raised her eyes towards the light filtering above her to find that the sun seemed impossibly far away. Shit. Shit shit shit. Had she really sunk that far so quickly? Should she have tried her chances with getting out of the car earlier? It didn’t matter now. Swimming had never been a problem for her, but the surface seemed impossibly far. Nevertheless, she kicked her legs, making a desperate attempt to live. It wasn’t long before her lungs were screaming for air, begging her to take that breath of seawater that would begin the sealing of her fate and death. Just a little closer. Just a little more. But the little more wasn’t enough. It felt like every gallon of the ocean was pressing on Nell— her eyes, her ears, any crevasse it could manage to find. Dizziness began to take its hold, and Nell vaguely wondered how it was even possible to be dizzy underwater, the inane thought crossing her mind as spots began to appear in her vision. She wasn’t going to drown. She refused to drown. Barely aware of it, sheer will seemed to propel and jet her higher, and whether it was her legs or her magic, she wasn’t able to say.

Morgan was no expert swimmer, but she had determination and stamina on her side. She tore through the water, muscles aching. The pull of the ocean was not her friend this time. It weighed down her arms, making her slower. Salt and floating debris flung into her eyes. Morgan continued to swim. She could see her now, a limp ragdoll figure in the blue.

No. Not today. Not one more fucking person is dying because of Constance.

Morgan grabbed her around the waist and propelled them to the surface.

“There they are!”

“Look!”

“Someone toss ‘em a rope!”

“Grab on, honey! Don’t let go!”

Morgan’s eyes were blurry with seawater, but she made out the shadow of a life preserver flying towards her. Morgan dragged her and Nell towards it, trying not to focus on how much distance there was between them and the shore, the ruin of her Subaru, the weight of Nell’s motionless body in her arms. “We--” she called, her throat choked with salt. “We need-- CPR! She--” Morgan gagged on more seawater. Nothing was moving fast enough. Not her legs, not the human chain forming on the docks, not the clouds gathering over the blinding sun. Morgan kicked in the water to help move them along, but it felt like she was still being pulled down, squeezed until she broke and gave up.

When they reached the surface, Morgan remembered to give a few dramatic coughs and wheezes while a woman she recognized from Amity Row felt for Nell’s pulse. “How did you… did you see? What happened?” Morgan asked.

The crowd looked uneasily at each other. “Just the end,” one of them admitted. “Wouldn’t have seen it at all except for that weird little girl.”

They began to describe her in bits and pieces, red hair, funny dress, maybe a cosplayer, but Morgan had already heard too much. She didn’t care what Constance had or hadn’t done for them, what kind of crowd she wanted to draw for her latest maneuver. If she was still gawking by the time Morgan was through here, she’d take her new solid body and pound it into dough. “Out of my way!” She snapped. “She just needs CPR! Fuck, it’s not rocket science!” She started pumping on Nell’s chest, blocking out the rest of the world. She’d taken this training enough times to remember; she could get this right. “Come on, Nell…” She whispered. “I can’t let her get you too. Come on…” She breathed into her mouth. “We’ve got this, Nell. We got this… we got this…”

[pippki-writes]

An Ill-Fitting Name: Snippet 8

NOTES:

Snippet 1; Snippets 2 & 3; Snippet 4; Snippet 5; Snippet 6; Snippet 7

Once more, let’s hear from the bird eh?

%%%%%%%%%%%%%

I want to give the young man a name, since he hasn’t volunteered it. I’ve watched him, but no one has come around to greet him. He spends some time on his phone, leaning in the doorway of his motel room, but he doesn’t much talk to himself. Doesn’t seem to say his own name.

He says mine though, the one he gave me. He’ll call out, “Cat!” and whistle softly, shaking his handful of kibble before scattering it neatly in the mulch. Then he’ll dust off his palms and sit on the curb, and talk to me.

“I suppose you’re only my friend because I feed you, huh?”

I try to stomp my little foot, to make a noise of protest, but I’m not sure if it’s quite the effect I was going for. He laughs in surprise. I notice the button I gave him is now on a cord around his neck, and his hand goes to the button, his thumb tracing over the raised patterns of the crest stamped on the domed metal as he talks.

“Don’t get mad. I...I think that’s kind of how friendship works, isn’t it? You do nice things for someone, they do nice things for you. You enjoy each other’s company. I don’t know. As I mentioned, I’ve never been good at making actual friends. I don’t think manipulating people is quite the same as making friends.” He stares off into the distance, lost in thought. “I’m not good at good things,” he admits softly, with a shrug. As though he isn’t terribly bothered by it. Merely acknowledging a fact. But he is bothered by the topic of friendship, as he keeps returning to it, the line of concern in his forehead growing deeper as he thinks and talks.

“It’s kind of transactional, but is that so bad? I don’t know. I’m guessing most people don’t go on like this...most people probably just…make friends…” He trails off again, clearly continuing a train of thought in his own mind. After a time, he looks down at his fingers, glances around the empty parking lot, then back down to his fingers. “Crows like shiny things, right?” he asks me, and I top my head. He draws a shape with his fingers and murmurs something that sounds like it could be Latin. He holds out his hand, palm up, and concentrates, as a small, shimmering star shape begins to glitter there for a moment. I hop a little closer, tilting my head to and fro curiously. I try to reach out to pick it up with my beak, but find nothing there to grab.

“Sorry,” he says, the star dimming as he speaks, “it isn’t real. But pretty, yeah?” He focuses again, and the star glows brighter. We watch it for a time, before he sighs and lets his hand drop, the star vanishing. “That’s a nice sort of magic. Not my specialty, I’m afraid.” His mouth twists to the side, like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t, and shrugs again.

I would like to name him for a star, I think. But even the ones I know, I can’t speak their names. I hop around to face him, to get his attention, and do my best impression of the soft whistle and chirp that a locking car makes. It’s a good imitation, a pleasing sound. I doubt he knows what I mean by it, but he smiles.

“Thanks, Cat.”

I make the noise first, the soft chirp of a car’s doors being locked. I trust that in time, he’ll figure out that’s what I’m calling him.

“Cat!” he notices me on the roof, shades a hand over his face to get a better look. “It’s not time yet, you know..” he trails off, checks his phone. “Ah, shit, maybe closer than I thought. Daylight savings means nothing to you, I’m sure.” He scratches the back of his head through his thick, sandy brown curls and yawns. “Wish it meant nothing to me. Well,” he stops and thinks a moment, mostly talking to himself, “I suppose it doesn’t mean much to me, aside from the time on the clock. Not like I’m expected at certain places and specific times. Hm.” He gets that strange distant look to his face again. It’s a pretty frequent look for him.

I swoop down and land on the tail end of a nearby sedan. He isn’t paying attention, so I call the name I’ve given him again. He turns to look at me again, snapping out of his reverie.

“Right,” he says with a smile. “Let’s get you squared away, huh?”

Into the motel room he goes. I worry about him, I realize. I have yet to see him speaking with another person. He’s back out again in no time, absentmindedly scattering his offering next to the shrub. He sits on the curb quite close to the food, and I let him, gliding over so near I almost clip his shoulder with my wing.

He looks around the parking lot again carefully before he speaks. As always, there’s no one else around.

“I’m a killer, Cat,” he says, worrying the button with his right hand. “That’s what I use my magic for.”

I’m sure I’ve killed in my time. Accidentally, purposefully, in one form or another. I eat my kibble, because it feels like the least judgmental action I can take.

He laughs, at himself it seems. “What do you care though, hm?” I get the distinct feeling there’s an unspoken half of that sentence—“you’re just a bird, right?” Something like that.

“I’m not stopping either. Some people deserve to die...But...I think I’m doing better at picking who. But I can’t sit with you tonight, I’m...restless. I’ve got to find someone. It’s been too long, and…” he sighs. “I’ll be back later, if you’re around.”

He takes a picture of me, taps on his phone, and gets up. What do you say to all that even if you had words to speak? I call his name again, and take off to wait for him on top of the roof. He waves, and walks toward the shadows on the side of the building, and in the blink of an eye, he’s gone.

- NEXT SNIPPET -

[percyyougloriousbastard]

Ok, so I came to the Shirbert tag thinking y’all would be so pleased with that episode but instead because Gil didn’t though Anne down and make passionate love to her in a field of flowers you’re angry.

I honestly don’t see how Gilbert is so out of character. He has his head in the clouds because a pretty girl had agreed to go courting sure but he is not out of character.

“Where you chopping Onions?” Boy isn’t stupid, he’s walked into the kitchen to find Anne in a pickle and with the knowledge of her past reactions is giving her a fair excuse which she - having realised something is different missed and instead panics.

Telling her there is no particular reason he needs cuff links - plan and simply even Gilbert’s not sure. Miss Rose is a beautiful young lady that Gilbert is attracted to and she has agreed to go to the fair with him. He’s excited but nervous that’s the whole of it.

Gilbert being attracted to a pretty girl is not out of character, it’s a 17-18 year old boy. Even a hundred years ago a pretty girl wanting to spend time with you messes with your hormones. Gil and Bash had a talk about love vs attaction last episode that was just playing out this episode.

Gil was a gentleman as always. He’s on a date with Miss Rose. Anne could have wrapped herself in a bow and did a sexy little dance just for him and his response would have been “I’m sorry I’m here with someone else, thank you though.”

I think what everyone is missing is that somewhere along the way either Gilbert or Miss Rose decide you meet at the fair and that wasn’t shown in the episode. But Gil was- as anyone would be nervous and excited for his first date. He wasn’t tossing all that marriage talk aside frivolously it’s just what front and centre in his mind.

He followed Anne out of the cake competition because he saw she was sad. “Mary would have laughed.” He wasn’t teasing her, he knew it was Mary’s recipe and he knew that Anne was upset about doing Mary wrong, he was telling her that Mary wouldn’t have minded.

As for the worried look Gilbert have Bash before introducing him to Miss Roses family. Gilbert was NOT ashamed of Bash. He was worried about their reactions because if they were negitive he knew the relationship wouldn’t work.

Honestly all Anne has done since season one is reject Gil’s friendship entirely or show no interest in being any more then friends. Can you really blame Gilbert for looking towards another girl that wants to pay him attention. I’d put money on them standing in front of the tunnel of love being a metaphor for there journey from friends to eventual lovers.

And finally I realise that Gilbert is a progressive character for his time period but the fact that he might feel that Josie Pye bought the situation on herself makes sense. Sexual assault and even Rape as a crime are relatively new concepts. Josie went willingly to be alone with a boy she was courting so why would she do that if she didn’t want to. Is this fair? No. Is it totally screwed up? Yes. But really Gilbert is still fairly innocent in the ways of women and sex, so it makes fair sense that if he could never imagine himself taking something form a girl that she hadn’t freely given that he can’t imagine anyone else would. Trust me though from the look on Anne’s face when she looks at what she’s written at the end the boy is about to be schooled. Seriously y’all thought the girl’s innocence last week was so cute but when Gilbert is the innocent one you want to throwthe character under a bus.

Most importantly I want to emphasise that Gilbert only might feel this way. We aren’t truly shown Gilbert’s reaction to the situation. He is in a far off corner watching the girls seemingly prattle on and asks that they pay attention to the task and hand And then Anne rips him a new one yet again confirming his belief that she doesn’t like him very much which is upsetting to him.

Honestly you guys are all about the slow burn until you have to live it. Anne has bought Gilbert’s reactions to her upon herself by being so ill tempered with him all the time that he does know where he stands. There were no steps back in this episode. The fact that Anne has realised her feelings was a massive step forward and once she learns how to deal with them then a relationship can happen but as it is she keeps exploding differently everytime poor Gil try’s to get close to her and he has been burned one to many times to keep going back for more with out a little protection for his heart.

Seriously Miss Rose keeps appearing with Anne’s little episodes - Gil try’s to be nice to Anne and chaperone her with a little light teasing/ flirting on the train and Anne yells at him. Gil asks Miss Rose to tea. Anne burst out of the school house, runs off home and with Charlie no less after there dance. Gil takes Miss Rose to the fair. Girl is sending him mixed signals give him a break.

Gil and Miss Rose have two other meetings, when Gil goes to fetch Mary a doctor and when Bash is beaten by Mary’s son and neither time does Gil initiate anything with Miss Rose but Anne also didn’t just curb stomp his feelings that he hasn’t come to terms with.

This was a filler episode to set up the next branch of the story. Before you sharpen your pitchforks how about we see how it actually plays out.

[ballerinaroy]

For dialogue prompt- 30

So I clearly suck at drabbles. 

I’ve been wanting to write this for a while. An AU where Hermione leaves instead of Ron. Here’s the start: 

It was only upon reflection that he could see this had been building for days. They had all been tested. Weeks now in the tent, on the run. Exhausted from the watch, from having to listen to the whispers of doubt that the locket around their necks whispered endlessly in their ears.

And yet no matter how hard he tried it was hard to curb his own foul mood, easier to place the blame on Harry, for not knowing, on Hermione for being ill-prepared. Easier to sit and gossip with the other two and reflect their own doubts onto them than addressing his own. That they didn’t need him…want him.

Tonight it had been Hermione’s turn to wear the damn locket resulting in her being rather short with them, huffing whenever answering their questions, ignoring their attempts to include her in conversations.

“It’s your book Ron, if Dumbledore had wanted me to read it he would have given it to me, wouldn’t he?” she snapped from across the room.

Ron looked over at Harry who glared down at the passage they’d been trying to translate for well over an hour.

“And you’re the only one of us who’s studied runes, Hermione,” Ron said in a would-be reasonable voice under normal circumstances though he can hear the bite in his tone.

“Please,” Harry said she reluctantly snapped shut the book she’d been reading and stomped over to them.

He pushed the book towards her and pointed at the symbol that had been scribbled at the top of one page. It’d been the bane of their existence, hours wasted on trying to identify the triangle that tugged just at the edge of Ron’s mind.

Hermione’s brow furrowed as Harry pushed towards her the book and pointed at the symbol. She stared at it for a  rather long time.

“I don’t know,” she said finally, looking rather upset about it.

They let out simultaneously frustrated groans and Hermione let out another one of those huffs that had been steadily getting more and more under their skin.

“You can’t always expect me to do your work for you,” Hermione snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and straightening up to her full height. “If Dumbledore had meant for me to solve it-“

“Dumbledore meant us to work together,” Harry argued.

“Did he?” Hermione asked, “Because he never indulged us with his thoughts did he?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Overhead there was the low rumbling of thunder like a warning sign. There was a moment of hesitation where Hermione stared at him, her lips parted.

“What do you mean, Hermione?” Harry repeated his voice baiting, looking for a fight.

“I don’t know Dumbledore’s plan!” she exclaimed. “He never told us anything, did he? Why would he give Ron the book? It’s like he didn’t know us at all.”  

Ron could feel Harry’s temper rising but Hermione, who’d never known when to stop, pressed on.

“I don’t know Hermione, perhaps he thought that even if he gave Ron the book that you might help him.”

“I am trying to help!” she shouted. “I just don’t know what that symbol is.”

Harry gave up, running his hands through his hair and turned away from her.

Hermione turned to Ron, “Do you think I’m lying?”

“No, Hermione,” he shrugged, turning back to the mess of runes books they’d been forced to squalor through given Hermione’s reluctance to do anything to help them.

“This would go so much faster if she’d only-“ Harry muttered in a voice not meant for Hermione to hear.

“Only what?” Hermione shouted, jumping back into the group. “It’s not like I’m sitting over there reading for fun. You ask so much of me, both of you do. You don’t see me! You don’t see what I’m doing.”

“Of course we see you, Hermione,” Harry said but he sounded annoyed Ron sat forward, wanting to jump into action but not knowing how. He watched in horror as Harry’s eyes rolled behind those smudged glasses he rarely bothered keeping clean anymore.

“No,” she choked. “No, you don’t. You depend on me, rely on me, you presume I’ve got the answers and when I don’t you’re cross with me for not knowing. It’s not my responsibility to know everything!”

“Hermione,” Ron begged but she refused to look at him.

“I don’t-“

“You do!” her voice had reached a new pitch. “You just said-“

“I just asked if you knew!”

“And then you were upset when I admitted that I didn’t know!”

“Because you always know! That’s who you are Hermione. You’ve always known, I’ve always been able to rely on you knowing.”

“And you think I’m hiding something from you?”

“I just think you could be helping more.”

“Helping more?” she repeated in a dangerous tone Ron was intimately familiar with. “What more do you want from me, Harry?”

Perhaps it was because they so rarely argued or perhaps it was because Harry had watched them row so often that Harry knew exactly what to say next.

“I’ve told you everything I know,” Harry told her. “I just think you could contribute.”  

“Contribute?” she repeated and her frustration drained from her face. “Like you’ve contributed?”

Harry looked over at her, his mouth foolishly parted to continue arguing.

“Like you secured a tent? Like you researched the spells to keep us safe? Like you’ve been stockpiling potions and ingredients and trying to keep Ron alive with a gaping wound in the middle of nowhere!”

Her voice was rising dangerously and Ron stood, walking over to her. “Hermione-“

She pushed past him. “You didn’t even think to grab your invisibility cloak! If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t even have those books you’ve spent days pouring over! All this, this was because of me and now you’re acting like I’m not contributing because I don’t know one rune?”

“I didn’t-“

“You did!” she screeched over him. “Do you plan on contributing anything Harry or are you just waiting for the day that I manage to track down these last Horcruxes so you can swoop in and call it a job well done when you-“

“Hermione!” Ron tried again and at last, she turned to him. “Take it off!”

But the usual passion he’d grown fond of in her eyes when they rowed was absent. Replaced by a hatred he’d never before known her to emote.

With one hand she reached up, tearing the locket from her neck with force and chucked it at Harry who caught it with his seeker’s reflexes and his fist closed around it.

“There,” she shouted. “Have it! It’s your one achievement, isn’t it? That’s why you make us wear it like a trophy.”

“I’m trying to keep it safe,” Harry growled.

“And what do you think I’ve been doing this entire time?”

“Hermione!” Ron shouted and she turned that terrible look onto him.

It was the expression, he supposed that caused him to freeze and she dismissed him with a stiff upper lip.

“It’s obvious I’ve outgrown my usefulness here.”

Harry was on his feet, his rage just as evident. Ron had never seen the two of them lose such control. “Then go!”

Tears filled her eyes at once and she turned on her heel and marched away, throwing back the flap of the tent and disappearing on the other side.

“What the hell?”  Ron stared at Harry in shock. But Harry’s expression was impossibly hard and Ron knew there would be no compromise.

He raced after Hermione, shouting her name as he pushed up the flap of the tent. The rain had come without his knowing. Pounding hard on his skin and obscuring his vision.

“Hermione! Hermione!”

She glanced over her shoulder as he took long strides to close the gap between them and her face was filled with pain. He outstretched his hand intending to…he didn’t know exactly-shake her, hug her, hold her as she punched his chest in anger—but just before the tips of his fingers brushed her already soaked jumper she turned abruptly and with a sharp crack disappeared into nothing.

For a long time, Ron stood there, arm outstretched, her last expression burned into his mind.

Send me a prompt! (also willing to continue this is there’s interest) 

[darylwillfightnatureforcarol]

You’re Wasting Away Chapter 2

Here is the second chapter. I fixed it up a little so it’s easier to read than the ones on Nine Lives and AO3. 

Description: Daryl continues his policing on Carol's dining habits and Carol begins to test the waters with him.

You’re Wasting Away

Carol kept her head down as she ate her breakfast that morning.

She could feel his eyes burning into her from across the way.

He had watched her like a hawk as she got her food and sat down.

She knew he would be watching for it so, even though she felt guilty, she didn’t give her food to Lori.

She was struggling to eat though. It was more food than she had been having lately.

Some of the others had already finished and gone to complete other tasks or amble around while they waited to move again.

She continued to push her food around on the plate with a sigh.

The morning light disappeared from where it shined in her eyes and she looked up.

Of course.

There he was, as if on cue, giving her a pointed look.

“I’m trying Daryl. It’s too much,” she admitted before he ever spoke.

“It ain’t enough,” he retorted with a scoff. He settled beside her on the ground.

She groaned inwardly.

He was not going to leave her alone until she finished it.

“Do I gotta feed you my damn self,” he spat with an annoyed glare.

She looked at him with wide eyes.

She was unable to stop the snort that came from her.

The image of him feeding her like a baby was too funny.

Daryl shook his head at her laughing form, but she could see mirth in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I promise, I really am trying,” Carol promised as she got herself under control.

Though it made her feel ill, she continued taking bites of her meal until it was all gone.

She held up her plate to display the emptiness.

His mouth quirked and he nodded.

“Do I get a reward now?” Carol teased with an exaggerated flutter of her lashes.

Daryl stared at her with slowly reddening cheeks.

“Uh…” he murmured as his eyes darted about.

Carol took pity on him. She wasn’t that cruel to continue torturing him.

She began giggling. The tension broke.

He shook his head with a grunt. He pushed up onto his feet.

“You got problems, woman!” he remarked before he stomped away.

She smirked in victory. She didn’t know why, but it made her tingle inside when she successfully rile him up. It was a new power she never knew she could use.

Rick called the camp over.

Everyone gathered around and waited for the speech.

“Okay, so I know everyone has been speculating on where we’re going. I’m sorry to tell you that I still don’t have an answer,” Rick revealed. His eyes scanned everyone as if daring someone to complain.

No one really complained in the group anymore, apart from Lori.

After Rick’s outburst about it not being a democracy, people had begun to fear him as much as they looked to him for guidance.

“At this point, I think we should just continue as we have been. We’ll find a place on the way,” he finished with a nod.

Carol saw Daryl shake his head but, as with everyone else, he said nothing.

Part of her wished he was more assertive, and that he were the leader of the group instead of Rick.

The rational part of her did not really want this. She could see how much of a burden leading was to Rick at times and she wouldn’t wish that on Daryl.

Besides that, she knew he had no interest in leading. He seemed happy to follow and only speak when absolutely necessary.

Everyone went about packing up their things and heading to their vehicles.

Carol began to do the same when she felt a hand grasp her gently on the shoulder. She spun around in response.

She came face to face with Lori, belly protruding slightly.

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that you’re more than welcome to ride with us,” Lori invited with a kind smile.

“Oh,” Carol started, taken off guard by the unexpected offer.

She was distracted momentarily by Daryl brushing past, on his way to his bike.

Remembering Lori’s question, she returned her attention to the other woman.

“Thanks for the offer but I’m actually okay with Daryl,” she smiled to accompany her response.

Lori gave her an odd look but, nodded and walked over to the car where Carl sat inside, waiting.

Carol grabbed her things and hurried over to where she heard the bike begin to purr.

Daryl’s attention was completely on the bike, loading a few items into the saddle bag.

She cleared her throat to get his attention and, surprisingly, he actually jumped a little.

She enjoyed that small victory silently. Managing to sneak up on him was not a small thing.

He eyed her expectantly.

“You need something?”

She curbed her instinct to crack a line at that.

She smiled shyly.

“I was hoping there was still room for one more on the bike.”

His brows furrowed.

“Thought you was riding with Lori and Rick.”

“She offered, yes. I said no because I’m pretty happy with the original arrangement.”

He continued to stare at her strangely.

Doubt began to niggle at her. Maybe she had misread things. Maybe she had overstayed her welcome.

“Unless you’d rather I ride with them. I’m sure I could catch them still…” she trailed off awkwardly.

He leaned back a little, still giving her a look that she couldn’t really decipher. It was like he was considering her sanity.

“Uh, you can ride with me if you want,” he muttered, looking at her through his lengthening fringe.

She blew out her breath in relief and grinned.

She stuffed her things into the back of the bike and clambered on behind him. 

She hid her continued smile behind his back.

Feeling daring, she settled her arms around his waist.

He jumped like she had just stabbed him with a pin. She almost pulled her arms back, but she held firm.

“Sorry. Is this okay? I just don’t want to fall off.”

She watched him take a deep breath in and then out.

She waited. She was beginning to suspect some things about him. One being that perhaps it wasn’t that he didn’t like being touched, but that he was unused to it.

“It’s alright,” he murmured finally, relaxing once more.

She tightened her hold and smiled again.

These small achievements made being alive worth it to her.

She didn’t have much, but she had this.

[pckarchives]

because going back and adding these to the previous q & a’s would be a pain ... beneath the cut , you’ll find all of brynn’s information !

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟎.     ›     brunnhilde brynn naoimh friar.

► species ➔ kelpie. ► biological age ➔ 1,803. ► weight ➔ 130 lbs. ► height ➔ 5′9″. ► build ➔ very thin with a bit of muscle! though, fun fact: if she is trying to lure in someone who prefers a bigger or smaller girl, that is what they will see! because kelpie aren’t actually human anyway, her human form only serves to draw others in, so they appear as the most appealing form, according to those around them. she looked a lot bigger when she lived in france and weight was in style, but she’s much thinner these days. she doesn’t understand humans, she doesn’t like this. ► disabilities ➔ none! ► weapon(s) of choice ➔ in an every day situation, her fists! she does not fight often (anymore), but she is very capable of solving those fights via human means. if a battle requires more than that, well... kelpies have no problem dragging someone down to the depths of the sea and eating them. ► skills ➔ see above. in addendum to the dragging someone to the depths of the sea thing, she can trap someone in her arms so they can’t escape her. works best when she’s in water, but she could make it work on land. also, she has a weather-sense! usually only matters when storms are coming, because she can feel when the waters get restless. she can summon a storm herself, but dear gods, the amount of effort that takes. she’s done it once in her near two thousand years of existence and has elected to never do it again. finally, she can actually turn into the horse spirit when she’s underwater. it looks... a little more mermaid-ish than one would think, but it’s a horse, okay. in her horse form, she’s ten times faster and stronger than a normal horse and... y’know, she can drag someone to the bottom of the sea and eat them. notably, if she is shifted on land, she appears like a regular black horse! maybe a little bigger than normal, slightly monstrous snout, but you’d have to look really closely to notice that. ► weaknesses ➔ her bridle. anyone gets their hands on it, they have control over her, which... is extremely terrifying, considering what she can do. so she keeps that thing hidden where no one has a chance of finding it or taking it from her. ► worst habits ➔ unfortunately, she falls in love very easily. after all of this time, she’s still a wide-eyed romantic. she also trusts entirely too easily. you would think she would know better, but? no? ► nervous tics ➔ she plays with seashells! talking to the sea is very much a mermaid thing, yes, but mermaids and kelpies are close relatives, and they all need a bit of water comfort. so when brynn’s feeling a little nervy, she’ll toy with a seashell or pearl, maybe have a quiet and awkward conversation with the nearest sea. ► sexuality ➔ what a silly concept. ► are they single? ➔ at the moment, yes. ► are they happy? ➔ literally always. ► are they angry? ➔ sometimes. really depends on the situation. ► are their parents still married? ➔ she doesn’t have parents! kelpies are independent spirits and they aren’t exactly born the way humans and other beings are. she simply came into existence, exactly the way she is. she’s been “adopted” many times, taken in by loving couples who hated to see such a young thing on her own in the world. but as far as biology goes, she has no parents to speak of. ► happiest memory? ➔ meeting iliana khepri! and, in addition, meeting her sons when they were turned! brynn doesn’t have many friends who’ve lasted throughout the years, as most people eventually die of old age, if nothing else. but having such beautifully-spirited friends who are as eternal as she is is a gift that she can never overlook. ► worst memory? ➔ the moment she, rohan and iliana found elliot the night of his wedding. certainly, there are worse things that she has lived through, long before this child was born, married and broken. but this horror is the freshest and it hurts the most. he had been so excited to tell them of his wedding and he simply wasn’t the same after it all. elliot may be nearly two hundred years old, but he’s still a baby, as far as she’s concerned? and he’s already been hurt in a way that even she’s managed to avoid so far. being there to witness it and being unable to stop it... yeah. she should have eaten that man. ► biggest regret? ➔ trusting a djinn with her bridle. she’d been friends with the woman and had been so certain that it would be the right move. wrong! anyway, brynn ate her. ► best thing they’ve ever done? ➔ saved quite a few travelers and tourists from storms and people with ill-intentions. ate a few dictators. ► worst thing they’ve ever done? ➔ in her “youth,” she ate people indiscriminately. she didn’t quite learn to control herself until she met iliana and had a reason to be kind. so she’s eaten quite a few children, her fair share of families, etc... she’s not proud of it. ► worst thing that’s ever been done to them? ➔ remember that djinn from earlier? yeah, she accused brynn of being a witch... during the witch trials. and given that brynn didn’t have her own bridle, she couldn’t even save herself. and she wasn’t one of the ones who had to drown to prove her innocence; no, that would have bene a mercy. she was burned. do you know what happens when you put a water spirit in flames? ► what scares them the most? ➔ the thought of someone getting their hands on her bridle again. she’s a full romantic, loves and trusts wholeheartedly, but she’s not sure she’ll ever trust that much ever again. ► who have they left behind? ➔ honestly, no one! though she’s been to many places and has met many people, she has rarely gotten attached to people, only to leave them behind. you could say she left iliana, rohan and elliot behind, but even then... not really? she’s kept in contact with them over the years, calling them ever so often to make sure they are doing well. elliot has recently taught her about facetime! ...she does not understand it. ► who would they kill for? ➔ anyone who needs it. this comes with the understanding that not every situation calls for death. some people just need a good curb-stomp and the problem is solved. but if someone truly needed her to kill, then she will do so. ► who has hurt them the most? ➔ the aforementioned djinn. that was a few hundred years ago, so you would think she would be over it? but no! absolutely the worst thing she’s ever experienced! ► who have they hurt the most? ➔ she would be hard pressed to say. she hasn’t hurt anyone she’s cared about. and when considering those that she’s eaten, no one person matters more than the others. ► who scares them the most? ➔ no one. ► if they could say one thing to their family right now, what would it be? ➔ “i have an ipad! ...what do i do with it?” SEVEN FACTS ► ‘birth’ place ➔ the north sea. ► hair color ➔ currently, blonde. it has been a number of colors over the years, due to beauty trends and hair dye. she was born with brown hair, a little lighter than her horse mane, but prefers the blonde. ► eye color ➔ blue. ► birthday ➔ september 30, 216. ► gender ➔ all kelpies are female. ► summer or winter ➔ summer. ► morning or afternoon ➔ morning. EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE ► are they in love? ➔ no. ► do they believe in love at first sight? ➔ absolutely! ► who ended their last relationship? ➔ she did. ► have they ever broken someone’s heart? ➔ yep. ► are they afraid of commitments? ➔ not at all! ► have they hugged someone within the last week? ➔ no, which is a shame. ► have they ever had a secret admirer? ➔ probably? ► have they ever broken their own heart? ➔ yes. SIX CHOICES ► love or lust ➔ love. ► lemonade or iced tea ➔ lemonade. ► cats or dogs ➔ dogs! ► a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ depends? with a life like hers, she needs both. ► wild night out or romantic night in ➔ romantic night in. ► day or night ➔ day. FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS ► been caught sneaking out? ➔ no. ► fallen down/up the stairs ➔ yes. ► wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ yes. ► wanted to disappear? ➔ no. FAMILY ► do they and their family get along?  ➔ she doesn’t have a family! ► would they say they have a “messed up life”? ➔ no. ► have they ever ran away from home? ➔ yes. ► have they ever gotten kicked out? ➔ no. FRIENDS ► do they secretly hate one of their friends? ➔ no! ► do they consider all of their friends good friends? ➔ yes! ► who is their best friend? ➔ iliana khepri. ► who knows everything about them? ➔ see above, plus rohan laghari and elliot aldridge. ► pack mate they’re closest to? ➔ prediction-wise, she’ll get close to theo, megan, alicia and nico, so as to help them not eat people, but especially theo and megan. (brynn shows up and adopts two cannibal kids on sight... as she should!) also kali, on account of her living with the vampires and being rohan’s baby sister. but of course, she will always be closest to iliana and her boys. ► pack mate they’ve fought the most? ➔ she is not a fighter! ► if forced to choose between their life and that of their closest pack mate, who would they save? ➔ martyrdom leaves no winners. she and iliana have always saved themselves and she doesn’t see why that would change.

► hobbies ➔ professionally, she’s a marine archeologist, but that started out as a hobby, as well! other than that, she likes taking dives and swimming with dolphins, whales and sharks. make no mistake, she is not the apex predator in that situation. but kelpies are repulsive to sea creatures, so as to prevent them from being eaten. so swimming with them is always safe, thankfully. and though she will not admit it under extreme torture, she does like roaming around in her horse form. she’s given quite a few horseback rides to children, because their happiness is all she could ever ask for. ► social media handles ➔ social what now? ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. it’s a good day if she can figure out how to put a number in her contacts as it is, no need to get creative. ► favorite color ➔ sea blue. ► favorite video game ➔ she has tried video games before and just cannot understand them. every time someone mentions a new one, it’s a different console? the controller has a new design? how does anyone keep up? ► favorite song ➔ modern love by david bowie. ► favorite scent ➔ incense! ► favorite band/artist ➔ julie d'aubigny was one of a kind. ► favorite place to be ➔ not to be cliché, but... the beach. the sand, the ocean, the rocks... she lives for that kinda vibe. ► favorite season ➔ summer! she can get into the water as much as she wants without people looking at her strange. ► favorite word ➔ alacrity. ► favorite meme ➔ i pretend i do not see it. (elliot taught her this one and he’s very proud of her for remembering it.) ► if they were an animal ➔ i... horse. ► if they were a color ➔ blue, in all of its forms. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ literally any of those tiktoks with the audio that goes: fuck, i.. i... i love you ! no, that’s too soon, you met this girl this afternoon ! okay, FUCK. she’s looking scared, maybe, like, should’ve came prepared with a poem, a haiku, maybe a hug, y’know ––– i could’ve killed you & hidden you with a rug, WHAT THE FUCK ? did you just say that, you fucking psychotic maniac –––– ?! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ blank space. ► aesthetic ➔ blood-stained seashells, clam shells pried open with shaking hands, blonde hair tied back into a peppy ponytail, blonde then red then pink then ombre but never brown never again, the ocean lapping at pale feet, calling the lost souls back home. ► motto ➔ “this isn’t the first ending i’ve survived and it won’t be the last.” ► theme song ➔ in for the kill by la roux.

► medical issues ➔ none. ► knows far too much about ➔ worldwide theologies. she doesn’t subscribe to any particular religion herself, but she has always been fascinated by the existence of higher beings, so she chooses to believe in all of them! ► fears death via ➔ fire. ► chances of being “evil” ➔ eh, pretty slim. she’s malevolent by nature, but has no interest in going all dark side again. she’s been there and she’s not impressed!

[bloodfcst-a]

Hey, y’all. Tumblr’s been setting off my anxiety in the last few days, thus the reason I’ve been away. I’ll give you a full explanation under the cut for those who are interested (though I’d really appreciate it if you all read it anyway), and provide some contact information for places you can find me.

Discord: conjure. ☆#6443 Twitch: ninabeanxo Twitter: mishtadelet

I’ve been kind of quiet on Discord lately & I’m the most active on Twitter. I also announce when I’m streaming on Twitter, so... yeah. Sorry about this.

I want to be here. I really do. But there’s something about the summers on Tumblr that are really hard on me. I also think people’s attitudes change & idk why, but people seem to treat me pretty rudely? I try so hard to be approachable, to be kind and positive and supportive, but the amount that people try to take advantage of me or are just plain rude to me is?? So wild. So for those reasons, I’ve just kind of been isolating myself lately, and I may seem a little distant/less approachable/not talking much about myself because tbh... some of y’all are just haphazardly setting off my anxiety / panic attacks and I seriously can’t do it. I already have PTSD, so it’s a fucking nightmare lmao.

There is no gentle way of saying this, but it really needs to be stated. Please respect my triggers, or I will not talk to you. Please respect if I ask you not to mention something or someone to me.

and this is a really big one....

Please respect my boundaries.

If I have mentioned to you that I am not vibing with someone, do not send me media of them / that includes them, do not ask me about ships with them, do not tag me in posts of / with them, and please stop asking me about group verses / affiliated servers. In my time on tumblr, I’ve dealt with theft, bullying, emotional abuse, sexual harassment & solicitation. I’m constantly asking myself ‘ Why me? ’ but more than that, I’m really trying to avoid further situations from happening. I haven’t found an answer. I’m guessing it’s ‘cause I’m soft / nice? idk. Stop ruining a good thing. Y’all are gonna make me bitter, dang. 

When I made this blog, I was explicit that I do not want to be in mainstream FF fandom. When I promo this blog, I even say primarily fandomless & canon-divergent. There is way too much messiness in the fandom, extremely toxic people & tendencies there, and I just don’t like fandom discussion. Regardless of my reasons, the point is that I’m not interested, so please stop trying to entice me to go back. It’s so blatantly rude & shows you think your interests & wishes are more important than my comfort level, and I don’t appreciate that sentiment in the slightest.

That being said, I know Yufi reads differently. That’s why I put so much work into her metas. I even have two tags for all the content. At some point I’ll even have a less minimalistic blog & with more links so it’s super accessible ( in the off chances searching for the ‘  meta ’ and ‘ kisaragi ‘ tags don’t work ). But in the meantime... ask questions. Read. Join a stream. I’ve literally streamed games & movies for folks privately & occasionally stream now. I actually started a new file of VII not too long ago and just got Yuffie, so I could literally have a gameplay stream where we go through canon together. I’m like... nearly begging. Don’t make assumptions.

Again, there are so many resources. There’s wikis, there’s the tags, there’s the inbox ( just ask! ), there’s streams, there’s gameplay & commentary videos, there’s stuff. If you are confused or unsure, I would much rather you reach out. This is regardless of how long I’ve known you, ‘cause some of us have known me for a while and still don’t know anything about me or my portrayal or how to interact, in- or out-of-character.

On the topic of assumptions (because it really is that important, so many issues stem from assumptions & you continuously making the wrong assumptions will leave me less inclined to speak with you, nevermind interact), let’s address some.

I do not write a hyper-sexualized muse. I know this is fanon because of her choice in clothes... however, clothes are a fashion choice, and do not reflect a person’s... existence? I don’t know if it’s the masculinity or the rape culture or what but... what she’s wearing does not mean she deserves any hypersexual treatment... and also as an extension, myself ( bc this happens way too frequently-- please stop seeing my muse and then approaching me about your personal sexual fantasies. It is extremely uncomfortable, as someone who is sex-neutral & demiromantic, to be randomly selected to talk about sex? with me personally? via my muse? Or about my muse when we have zero chemistry? Why do y’all think this is okay??). When I do choose to write sexual / nsfw content, it’s always after conversations ( plural!! ) with my writing partner & after I feel comfortable with the topic and with them. But even if I had her hoein’ it up on the dash, that doesn’t mean to make assumptions about her character (bc maybe there’s character motivations I need to write a meta for & it’s part of her background) or me (the mun is not the muse!! say it with me!!).

I do not write a kleptomanic. Again, this is entirely fanon, because Yuffie says in literally everything she’s mentioned in that she does not steal without a purpose-- and the highest purpose is that she’s stealing items that would restore the power and glory of Wutai or for her personal safety. However, I very rarely write theft... I try really hard to steer clear of the topic because I’m aware that it’s like the #1 thing she’s reduced to. She’s a thief class, yes, but that is not the only dimension to her. I could go on, but I think that’s enough.

Just because our characters share canon does not mean they’re going to have chemistry. I am canon-divergent. But not only that... Yuffie just doesn’t vibe with most people as a canon fact. She is an outsider to like... 99% of people, exclusion being Godo ( Wutai ) & the Turks & the WRO. She doesn’t even claim herself as a member of AVALANCHE. Not only this, but the dynamic she has with one Reeve or Cloud does not represent every duplicate-- that comes with plotting and with chemistry. We will have to plot & work together to figure out exactly how our versions of characters mesh. This is a collaborative hobby.... so the collaborating shouldn’t be that much of a surprise. 

If you come guns-a-blazin’ without clearly having read anything about my portrayal, with completely inaccurate characterizations & just assume because we’re friendly out-of-character I’m gonna be pleased with it.... you’re dead wrong. I’m actually just... a very kind and nice person. I may just gently offer you some suggestions or corrections. But if you repeatedly come with your assumptions &  pre-conceived notions and it’s clear you’re not paying literally any attention to me or my ideas about my portrayal...  I’ll probably just recommend you to another duplicate. I know one who stole a ton of my content & former friends, so you’ll be in good hands. 

If you’re here, I assume that you want to write with me, not the idea of me. I’m a person with feelings & interests too, y’know ?? I feel like somehow that’s easy to forget with me for some reason, given how often people feel inclined to overstep my boundaries & act so disrespectful to me. Which is... fucking wild, honestly !! I’ve even had a person deadass say to my face “ I didn’t think/know you’d want to be treated with appreciation and respect. ” What the actual fuck does that mean? What kind of dominant abuser mentality ??????? Y’all on this site stress me out!!

The last two weeks have been legit stupid stressful on me, and I’ve had some interpersonal changes with folks in the last month (mainly in private) all regarding these subjects. About people here feeling entitled to be rude to me & finding all sorts of justifications for it (I’ve heard everything from “my grandma was sick” to “work’s hard”-- what’s that gotta do with you curb stomping me & my ideas/feelings, and telling me my emotions aren’t relevant in comparison to yours? It doesn’t). And it’s just been weighing down on me a lot. I don’t usually go on main here to discuss issues like this, but because it’s been OVERWHELMING in the last few weeks (and also, bc being nice to everyone is kinda common sense ? and idk why folks here seem to think I’m excluded from the ‘everyone’???), it just seemed like now, while I’m isolating a bit in an attempt to focus on some self-healing, would be a great time to discuss things.

I know this was a long post... but there’s been a lot of injustices done to me on here & in life, so....... if it burdens you to read all this, imagine how shitty it feels to have to experience it. Yeah. It’s rough, pals.

I don’t know how to really end this post godhsaohof. I’m hoping this will kind of open someone’s eyes & like... maybe things will change. I’ve stated before, but I have chronic illness so I really can’t handle stress or, for lack of a better term, a lot of bullshit tbh. If you wouldn’t say it to someone with a dying illness or cancer or a soft sweet grandma, don’t say it to me. Because that’s literally me! I’ve got an illness I’m dying from & I’ve had cancer & I’m soft and sweet! tl;dr, stop being so mean to me dang. I didn’t do anything to deserve this.