#im so fucking tired. at the point where i fucking hope they get a divorce

[angeltrapz]

is my dad capable of leaving me alone

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)

notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! <;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.  

It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.  

And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter—even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.  

He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.  

He knew that and got greedy.  

To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.  

Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.  

“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.  

A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.  

“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.  

“Mhm.”  

“Will you change?”  

“No.”  

That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.  

Maybe you never mattered in the first place. 

It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying. 

You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday. 

Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.  

You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs. 

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over. 

The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.  

“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat. 

“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off. 

“I love you too, Shoko.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty. 

“Mm, I’ll manage.” 

“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight. 

“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair. 

“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.” 

“‘N how’s that gonna help?” 

“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.” 

“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny. 

“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.” 

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.” 

“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.” 

“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.” 

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.” 

The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.  

You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings. 

Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene. 

The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It���s both welcoming and hopeless.  

A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself. 

So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.  

It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching. 

You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result? 

After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real. 

In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”  

You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night. 

And you burst into tears.  

Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you. 

You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.  

“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside. 

“Wh’re you?” you garble. 

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?” 

“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.  

“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light. 

“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child. 

“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.  

“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm. 

“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge. 

“L’ve me alone” 

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-” 

Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.” 

You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew. 

Then, you shoot up. 

You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.  

 Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose. 

“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.  

You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand. 

“Finally up?”  

It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried. 

You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears. 

He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you. 

“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.  

“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.  

“It was fine.”  

There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance. 

Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?” 

“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?” 

“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times. 

“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication. 

“Had business” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment. 

“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy. 

“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation. 

“’M not lyin’.” 

“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?  

“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.” 

He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.” 

“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.” 

“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-” 

“You could barely keep your eyes op-” 

“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!” 

You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone. 

“...I know.”  

You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone. 

“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze. 

“Are ya hungry?” 

You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances. 

 Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.  

“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.” 

“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity. 

“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride. 

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.” 

“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest; 

“Pervert!” 

There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.  

They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”  

Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top. 

It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.  

Not my business. You're nauseous.  

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table. 

Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it. 

“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.  

“You lost? Take her order” he spat. 

The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.” 

Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors. 

"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say. 

"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."  

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"  

"As comfortable as I can be"  

"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"  

"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests. 

"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."  

"It did pay well."  

"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?" 

“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."  

"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household. 

"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"  

You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."  

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."  

"Don't get used to it." 

You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.  

He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof. 

You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality. 

The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”  

You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.” 

“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.  

You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”  

He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I���m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again” 

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “ 

“Give me your phone.” 

“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists. 

 You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.  

“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.  

The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today. 

You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself: 

dumbass ex 

tick, tock, tick, tock 

The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip. 

Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him. 

He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.  

Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji. 

A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.  

“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.” 

“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...” 

“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.” 

“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?” 

“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”. 

“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?” 

“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them. 

“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.” 

You sigh, “It’s no one new.” 

“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops. 

“Do not fucking say it.” 

“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!” 

“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.” 

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!” 

“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath. 

“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place. 

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” 

At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app. 

Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn' 

'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?' 

'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?' 

'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes' 

This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”  

Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.   

Oh god. 

You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.  

“…Hello?” 

“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“  

“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction. 

“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.” 

“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you. 

You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs. 

Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no- 

“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.” 

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.  

But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.  

There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.” 

“They’re for you.” 

You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless. 

“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you. 

“Thank you��, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.” 

You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.   

“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan. 

“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere. 

“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”  

“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle. 

“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups. 

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.” 

You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?” 

“Us.”  

Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words. 

He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.  

Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie. 

Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.  

It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.  

The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.” 

Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.” 

“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.” 

“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:(" 

You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.” 

“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.” 

This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm. 

Loving. 

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks. 

“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything. 

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.” 

You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”  

“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip. 

“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.  

“I don’t need healing. I need you.” 

You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation. 

You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.  

You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.  

You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?” 

“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”  

Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.  

“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement. 

You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip. 

You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue. 

An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.” 

He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.  

Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans. 

Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?” 

He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.  

You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow. 

Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-” 

He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.” 

You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.  

He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.” 

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.  

“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.  

You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.” 

“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.” 

“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence. 

“And what else?” 

“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk. 

“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you. 

“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”  

“Mhm!”  

He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.  

Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.  

You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”  

“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth. 

“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come. 

“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air. 

“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm. 

No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.  

Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight. 

“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close” 

“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.” 

Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.  

He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”  

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek. 

“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear. 

Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.  

“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”  

The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.  

Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?   

Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go. 

Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”  

He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.  

“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs. 

Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.  

Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?” 

You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?” 

“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain. 

Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other. 

“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?” 

“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.  

“So, you’re the decision maker now?” 

“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.” 

“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”  

“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.” 

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?” 

 “No. You need nobody but me.” 

You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”   

“I love you, too.” 

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

but though i may never be free / fuck you and your money

words: 2739 (AO3)

Summary:

it's six am. im not doing a serious summary.

gran torino gets fucking vaulted 👍

(no i didnt update the summary after posting. it's afohiko fyi)

"Sora, you know I- "

"Don't you 'Sora' me, you son of a bitch!"

Sorahiko throws a nearby vase at Hisashi's face at full force; the man has the good sense to dodge, and it shatters against the wall. Sorahiko doesn't even know why the hell there's a vase in here, considering that Hisashi is not the type of man to bring him flowers, and Sorahiko is not the type of man to display them.

It might've just been another display of wealth. Flexing every single advantage that he has over Sorahiko, money and power and everything else, that's always been Hisashi's game. Though, it's a moot point now, considering his current position, but he's always thought Hisashi was touched in the head.

"Please. Is that any way to speak to your husband?"

"You're not my husband if I don't have a ring." Sorahiko wiggles his bare fingers at Hisashi, showing that he is, indeed, without a ring. Hisashi pouts at the display in a way he would have once begrudgingly called cute, and now only comes off as mocking.

"Why would you get rid of it? You picked it out yourself, if I recall correctly."

Sorahiko takes a deep, fortifying breath, before biting out, "I picked it in a jewelry shop that wasn't in a fucking bank vault."

He glares at Hisashi from where they are both standing in the aforementioned bank vault. It's got a kitchen, running water, electricity, everything a home needs besides a connection to the outside world- or any kind of exit. Hisashi teleports in, and Sorahiko suspects that they're underground, surrounded on all sides by dirt. There are magazines full of classic cars, a side room that looks to be an empty showroom-slash-garage, and that's the second-most insulting thing here: the fact that Hisashi clearly remembers his interests and hobbies, and is most likely hoping to leverage them in exchange for him becoming complicit in this.

He can practically hear it now: "If you'd like, I can see about acquiring one of those Ferraris you were looking at, getting it down here for you to work on and modify to your heart's content. How about we talk about it over a meal, hm?"

Sorahiko could never be complicit, though. He would never accept that meal, or that car, or whatever peace offering Hisashi attempts next, and that is because of the one thing more insulting than the cars: the skylight.

It taunts him. Right in the center of the ceiling, a massive skylight that lets in sunlight and helps keep himself oriented in time. It's probably on ground level, a window in the middle of the grass for any outsiders looking in. He supposes that the damn thing is there because Hisashi knows that if Sorahiko was allowed to fully divorce himself from the natural passage of time, his circadian rhythm would readjust itself to achieve his natural state of "weirdly nocturnal-ish." That would, of course, be bad for Hisashi, because then Sorahiko wouldn't be quite so goddamned tired all the time and he could properly plan an escape.

Or, maybe the skylight wasn't supposed to keep him handicapped. Maybe it was meant to be a taunt. Maybe it was meant to say the same thing as the showroom: if you cooperate, I'll give you back what I stole from you.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Speculation gets him nowhere, and neither does contemplating the accursed skylight. It's not like he can jump up there anymore.

With Pinball, getting out would be easy. All that he would have to do is start bouncing around the place and get enough momentum going to go out the skylight, and boom. Done. However, he doesn't have the luxury of quirk use anymore.

"Sora, it was- "

"Do. Not. 'Sora.' Me."

"Sorahiko- "

"Don't get so familiar."

"What do you want me to call you, then? Shigaraki? That is your name now, after all."

Sorahiko glances around for another vase; finding none, he hurls the now-empty end table at Hisashi. It, too, shatters against the wall, this time falling into splinters instead of ceramic shards.

"You stole my quirk. You stole my freedom. Now you're insisting on stealing my fucking name? What the hell else do you stand to gain, here? I've got nothing else for you to have, so just- just kill me already! Is that what you want? I don't care! Just get it over with and take my fucking life before you find another scrap of dignity to steal from me instead!"

He's breathing a little heavily after his impromptu rant, but he's not taking any of it back, just staring at Hisashi, waiting to see how he'll respond. He knows that Hisashi isn't angling to kill him, rather, keep him here forever like some kind of collectible, but he won't stand for that. He will not sit here quietly when he can scream and rage and say things that he knows will get under Hisashi's skin.

Hisashi, for his part, steps forward right on cue, a hand outstretched as though in an attempt at comfort. Sorahiko takes an equal step back, and snarls, "Don't touch me." The disgust in his voice isn't exaggerated in any way, unlike the false accusations. He wants nothing to do with his so-called "husband" anymore, no matter how well the bastard tries to plead his case.

The bastard in question lowers his hand and lets it hang limply at his side for a moment, before suddenly seeming to remember that he can't let himself look pathetic in front of a prisoner and faux-casually readjusting his cufflinks instead. Hisashi doesn't do that himself, Sorahiko knows he's got a quirk that he specifically employs so that he doesn't have to readjust his clothes, so it's even more blatantly obvious that he's just doing it so that he has something to do with his hands.

"I..." Hisashi hesitates, for a calculated moment, because Sorahiko will never believe that he was actually rendered speechless. "I want to keep you safe, here. You know how dangerous it is, out there, I don't want to risk- "

"Cut the shit," Sorahiko interrupts, "You and I both know goddamn well that taking my quirk and then claiming that it's 'too dangerous' out there is horseshit. You're just trying to keep me here, trapped like a pet for you to come and visit as you please."

Sorahiko stomps forward, maintaining steady eye contact with Hisashi. "Well guess what, sweetheart. I'm not your fucking pet, I'm not a fucking invalid, I was your fucking partner. I managed so much of your bullshit, I took care of so many attempted assassinations and headed off so many attempted 'quirk-erasing' drugs before they even started, all so you would keep your precious throne as the King of the Underground. All so you wouldn't have to worry about the minutiae of it all, all so you could look ahead at the 'future' you love so much." He's up in Hisashi's face at this point, close enough that their noses are almost touching. His voice started out at nearly a shout, but has since lowered to a dangerous murmur, the kind that he picked up from Hisashi himself, the kind that makes whoever hears it lean in and listen. Neither of them have even so much as blinked.

He lifts a hand to cup the side of Hisashi's face, in a mockery of the intimacy that he used to willingly share. "You can keep your future. You can keep your throne. You can keep whatever it is I gave you back when I was stupid enough to think you loved me as anything more than a plaything, because that's all you'll ever get from me. You'll have to pry anything else from my cold, dead hands." He pulls his hand away, and moves to back up, but he's stopped by a force gripping at the back of his neck.

Hisashi is holding Sorahiko in place by the back of his neck, and dons that smug little smirk of his while he presses his forehead to Sorahiko's. He looks like the cat that caught the canary, and Sorahiko feels like the rat that just stepped into the trap.

"You don't mean that." It's almost a whisper, Hisashi's low voice given just barely enough volume that Sorahiko's pretty sure he can only hear it because of how close they are right now. He says it with a lilting amusement, like it's merely a tease.

"I think you'll find that I very much do." He makes no move to escape. That would be admitting defeat, that would be inviting Hisashi to show off just how much stronger he is than Sorahiko, thereby confirming just how trapped he really is. He'll pretend that he's got a little power here, just for a moment.

Hisashi huffs quietly in amusement, not even enough force in it to really call it a laugh. He leans forward just slightly, just enough to close the distance between them, and murmurs, "Do you?" against Sorahiko's lips before finally kissing him.

Sorahiko's immediate instinct is to respond in kind, but he resists the urge. Instead, he shoves at Hisashi's chest to try to push him away, but of course he doesn't give. Hisashi pulls away, anyway, and levels him with a dispassionate stare. Suddenly, there's the horrible sensation of something crawling on the back of his neck, and a glowing coming from where he knows Hisashi's hand still is, and he knows.

There's a strange, pulsing kind of pain that feels its way out from that point on the back of his neck where he knows the hole in Hisashi's hand is. It's accompanied by a cold crawling, like icy insects burrowing their way under his skin, and all that Sorahiko can think is "There's no way he's giving me the right quirk back."

He discovers that he's right soon after, when his heart stutters in his chest and his lungs start having trouble pulling in air. Hisashi lets go and backs away a few steps, leaving Sorahiko to pathetically brace himself against the nearest wall as his knees start going weak and spots begin to appear in front of his eyes. He hadn't felt anything like this after Pinball had been stolen from him, no way that he would've even known if he hadn't seen it happen with his own eyes, so he'd bet that whatever this is, it must be some kind of mutation or transformation quirk, something that's fucking with his circulatory and respiratory systems. Could even be a particularly involved emitter quirk, but real speculation is escaping him when all that he can really focus on is Hisashi leaning down mockingly, grabbing his chin to force him to keep looking into Hisashi's eyes as he sits flat on his ass and struggles to fucking breathe.

"What if I gave you something in return, hmm? I'll be keeping Pinball for now, so I'll always have a part of you with me, but... you did manage to survive this long outside, by my side. There are dangers out there and their weapons are only getting stronger, that quirk is multiplying its power stores exponentially with that Seventh... but I do love you, dear. I want to trust you, truly I do, so I'll need you to adapt. I'll need you to pass this little test of mine, then we'll see about bringing you out of here. If you prove yourself adept enough, that is."

So that's what all of this is about. Hisashi's growing paranoid about the power of that One for All, and he's feeling the need to keep Sorahiko locked away for fear of those heroes finding him and arresting him- though, more likely, they'd kill him. Hisashi knows that. Sorahiko won't pretend to sympathize, but he kind of understands. Still, that doesn't keep him from growling with as much force as he can muster, "The hell did you do to me?"

Hisashi chuckles, mostly to himself, before he answers. "I gave you a quirk, of course. It doesn't match yours, not quite, so it won't be easy for you to acclimate to. There will likely be side effects, long-term effects, inconveniences in every way, but if you can overcome them, if you can come back with that same old fighting spirit you've always had, I'll make sure it doesn't take its toll. I need you to be more than your quirk, Sora. I need you to be better than that." Hisashi's almost pleading, now, and Sorahiko would hit him if he could get enough oxygen in his useless lungs to muster the strength for it.

"The name of the damn thing would be nice."

"It's called Air Jet. It's going to restructure your circulatory system and your respiratory system, mostly in your legs. It allows the user to push air out through holes in the bottoms of their feet, so I'll give you a few days to let that happen. I would stay with you, but you've made it abundantly clear that you don't want me here. Once the physical changes have finished, I'll be waiting. I'll be waiting for your perseverance, Sora, because we both want you out of this vault. You're not sickly like my brother was, but the world is changing too quickly, powers are growing too much for me to just... leave you to remain outside, not without even seeing if you can hold your own. Adapting to a quirk like this was difficult even for me, someone whose quirk was designed for it, so you overcoming it will ease my fears. It will assure me that you truly don't need to be protected like this, and that's all I really want."

Sorahiko nearly spits in his face. Hisashi's maddened rambles are insulting to listen to, at best, and the only reason he doesn't start protesting this in every way that he can is the barely-concealed bags under Hisashi's eyes that he's just now noticing. Hisashi is... clearly unwell. He'll just let that rant slide, for now.

Instead of spitting, like he desperately wants to, Sorahiko begrudgingly asks, "Carry me to bed before you go?" He doesn't think he's standing up again for a while in this state, and it'll be one last gesture of affection before Sorahiko permanently rejects him out of hand.

Hisashi smiles softly, and picks him up bridal-style, the same as he did on their wedding day. While he carries him to the bed, Sorahiko looks up at the skylight and plans.

Air Jet isn't Pinball. It never will be Pinball. There will be side effects, it'll take a toll on his body, but he honestly doubts that he'll ever get that quirk back. As far as he's concerned, it's gone forever, because as much as Hisashi had pretended like that whole rambling rant was honest, it wasn't. Sorahiko knows that he doesn't intend on letting him out of this vault within this lifetime.

Air Jet was given to him because it would physically disable him for a while, so Hisashi's probably banking on that time to wear him down into compliance with the vault. Air Jet is also the perfect quirk for escape, so long as he can master it before Hisashi decides to either switch it out or leave him quirkless entirely.

Hisashi lays him down on the bed, and looks down at him for a moment before swooping down for one more attempt at a kiss. Sorahiko reciprocates this time, but keeps a hand on Hisashi's chest. It's a softer kiss than usual, probably partly because he's already having trouble catching his breath after only a moment, and because, at least on his part, it feels like a goodbye. It is a goodbye.

When Hisashi breaks away and leaves, it feels... final. A good kind of final, maybe. Sorahiko knows he'll miss the whole 'criminal' thing, because there's no way he'll be able to return to the underground after this, but maybe the straight and narrow won't be so bad. He won't be risking another bank vault, at least, and most people with decent heads on their shoulders won't try and cross him even after he's out.

He stares up at the skylight, and watches the color fade to a burnt orange of sunset. In a few days, he'll be out there, he promises himself. He'll be out there with a new life.

[overgrownmoon]

vent post

i’m not allowed to be angry.

how dare i complain. how dare i argue and bicker. how could i act so childish and irresponsible, pull yourself together and act right. dont cuss, don’t hit, don’t yell; stay good. be good. i have better things to worry about. your little brother is throwing a tantrum, i don’t need you throwing one too. you’re the eldest, you don’t need to be crying. behave. act right and don’t make a scene.

don’t be so down on the state of the world. don’t let it get to you. don’t focus on politics. don’t talk about things that upset you. focus on school, you don’t have time for that anger. you have no where to put it and nothing to do with it. you have everything you need, why are you complaining? why aren’t you happy yet? everything is gonna be ok, don’t be sad. don’t be upset.

nononono. no. no. i want to be angry. i want to scream and stomp and yell and cry and hit because i am so. angry at the world and all the horrible people in it and the horrible rules of society we came up with and everything that we do to eachother and the planet and i’m so so angry that i can’t do anything about it. i’m significant. i’m not a rich oil baron that can lobby the government, i j not an elected official, im not an influencer or speaker. i have no power. for every straw that i deny and plastic cup i recycle millions more are manufactured and dumped into the oceans. for every bill i oppose politicians sche on how to add more, do more, get wicked things to pass.

i’m tired and stressed and angry. i want to do something but i have no time, money, or energy to do it.

do i make an impact? do i matter? am i more than a cog in a machine, a number on a document? can i ever be more than a depressed white middle class asshole with a broken brain? who complains day in and day out how fucking depressed they are, oh how bo-hoo sad my life is oh ducking shut up asshole. i don’t know the meaning of suffering. oh lord your parents got divorced we get it and you lived in a nice house with toys and food and a good school and loving family and ooooohhh how hard your life must have been. how much you must have suffered while you went out with friends and had a good dad and a nice computer and good grades in school. what the fuck do i have to be upset about? ducking nothing i’m just a piece of shit loser with such a broken and failed fucking brain that i somehow convinced myself that i’m not a shitty awful person!

what point is there. nothing fucking matters. at the end of the day the fuckers in charge will get what they want while us plebeians get to wallow and suffer for our wages. we’ll beg and grovel at their feet for a luveable planet, drinkable water, a home to live in. so list and fucking doomed we are. i don’t want to participate in society. i do t want to do any of this. i didn’t want to be born. i wish i was never born. i don’t want to be here i don’t want to do any of this it all sucks and unfair and no one ever ducking asked me if i wanted to be here! i am forced into this goddamned nonsense world where profits are more important that morals and i’m sick of it! but the only other option is death and that’s looking like a pretty good option compared to what the fuck is gonna happen to us in the future!

fuck this. fuck everything. fuck your “have hopes” and “look at the bright sides” and whatever the fucking fuck. they won’t change the damn bed facts right in front of us. they won’t stop this fucking garbage fire from burning. i want to be angry. i want to so angry i can cave in concrete and shatter glass. i want to snarl and rip and tear and kill and maim and destroy eveything around me and then finally rip into my own chest and rip out my own heart so i never have to have it hurt from watching everything fucking collapse around me.

privileged fucking asshole. at a good college, don’t have to work, living with my parents. i still have the absolute audacity to be so bitchy and ungrateful. of fucking course. i fucking hate myself

[c0rpseductor]

at this point im just so tired of wide-eyed idealism and people acting like every major loss or setback like this is because none of us tried hard enough or organized hard enough or cared enough or threw enough molotovs. the odds are so stacked against people just trying to survive right now it’s insane and while i completely believe that’s no excuse to roll over and take it i need people to understand that much of what happens really is out of our control and would have happened even if we’d done everything “right.” there is only so much any of us can do in the face of the state and there are times where we’re powerless.

like i don’t want to scaremonger or tell people not to hold out hope. you still should do whatever you can. even the smallest mitigation of harm is important. but when something awful happens that is not the time to turn on your allies and say “this is your fault because you didn’t try hard enough” when the odds are inherently stacked toward the fucking government, because they make the rules, they have the social power, they have the financial power, they have the legal power, they have the police and the military.

i think some people need to get in touch with reality. we need to do everything we can, but sometimes we are going to lose no matter how much we kick and scream, because the people living in this country don’t actually hold the power. and it does NOT make anyone want to try harder when they give their all to an issue and are told the reason the government ignored them is because they simply didn’t protest hard enough. come on. even if some of these battles are losing battles they need fought, but i’m sick of people who are utterly detached from material reality insisting that every new fascist measure from the government is because those of us already most impacted don’t care enough and let it happen.

it’s just infuriating how much is expected of people with no resources or time and who might have to choose between edgy tumblr-brand Direct Action and survival. stop it. make those decisions for yourself, but don’t bitch and moan that other people chose to continue to live over putting their lives at risk. and this is the risk that must be weighed for every marginalized person and everyone living in poverty. i am sick of people at risk being told to put themselves on the front lines of dangerous protests as fodder and belng told they deserve what they get if they don’t, as if so many of you really think it’s some kind of game, as if being so far divorced from the issues allows you some kind of clarity where the Real Answer is that starving people scrambling to make ends meet are not idealistic enough, that they don’t try hard enough. those of you who live in those conditions and still blame other people in your boat REALLY don’t have an excuse.

like, i don’t really know what to say or how many people are going to interpret this in bad faith, it’s just so unbelievably frustrating that it feels like so many people on The Left have this fucking childish “live and die by the sword” mentality like the lives of real people are some kind of fucking fairy tale guaranteed a happy ending if everybody just listens to them, specifically, and if enough minority groups risk being murdered at protests.

[humanlighthouse]

The Adventures of Bastard Zhang

A conversation between @s1utspeare and i that we have decided to gift you all :) prompted by my liveblogging of Mystic Nine and the Zhang naming traditions

humanlighthouse

I have had this thought since the very first moment i read their names on tumblr, but i think it's the first time i actually write it out: qishan rishan makes me wonder if we have a rilin somewhere.

Can you imagine

Tiny XG with big bright eyes

OR

Tiny XG with like. The WORST personality

Full on emo brat

A complete teenager

Does Li Cu have someone? I want him to meet my new OC, Tiny Gremlin Rilin

And then to fight the fuck out of him

Enemies at first sight

XG grabs him by the scruff of his neck

Tired.

s1utspeare

they're like "xiaoge control ur sON" "wu xie control UR SON"

humanlighthouse

They threaten to get divorced over this and it's the first time the boys agree to behave

He looks like a smaller XG with longer, even more emo hair, dresses like an eboy, has nunchucks or however the fuck you write that

He often tells XG stuff like You’re not my dad

s1utspeare

xiaoge's like "yeah i fucking hope not"

humanlighthouse

"How would i even know"

WX is sitting beside them like 😱😱😱

"Does that make me a dad??"

LC kicks him

He is The Worst and they all hope he grows out of it but No.

Liu Sang meets him once and swears never to come back if he is in Wushanju at the same time

s1utspeare

Rilin eats Liu Sang's whistle

humanlighthouse

Just swallows it whole

He hates it and is in pain for a whole week but he had a point to make!!

Even Kanjian tries to be nice about it but is like "He sure looks...troubled? 😬"

s1utspeare

the only one he likes is huo daofu for some disturbing reason, and huo daofu Does Not Like Him Back

humanlighthouse

HE FOLLOWS HIM

Not with stars in his eyes but with a very disturbing fixed stare

He breaks and enters regularly into his place

He doesn't do nice caring shit or anything, he just gets in and sits on the couch drinking stuff he stole from his fridge

Pangzi thinks he is hilarious until the moment he messes with his cooking, and he has to run him out of Wushanju with a wooden spatula and/or his shoe in hand

s1utspeare

The first time HXZ meets him it’s an exact recreation of this gif

humanlighthouse

He and XH come in with bucketfuls of popcorn every time he's in town

They just sit in a corner and observe the mess

s1utspeare

at one point the go to the Wu house and Zhang Rilin meets the dogs and Wu Xie is like "haha this'll teach him" but Rilin just growls at them and they immediately make him their leader

humanlighthouse

Sanshu hates him for some reason (very hard to manipulate) but Ershu thinks he is refreshingly honest and generally delightfully entertaining

s1utspeare

he bites sanshu

no one is sympathetic

humanlighthouse

LC high fives him

XG gives him 50 bucks

s1utspeare

pangzi: wait where the shit did you get fifty bucks??

xg: wu xie

wx: i didn't give you fifty dollars

xg: not on purpose

humanlighthouse

pz: oh so that's where he got it from

s1utspeare

like father like son 😊

humanlighthouse

XG still refuses to consider that he could be his dad instead of a close cousin or long lost big brother, so ZRL plays "you’re my dad boogie woogie woogie" under their bedroom window for an entire week

The sexual frustration forces him to sign adoption papers

They're fake, thankfully, HXZ procured them

s1utspeare

Li Cu taught him “you are my dad”

He teaches Rilin all the memes (after he bites Sanshu they have a tentative alliance)

humanlighthouse

They're a FANTASTIC TEAM is the problem

XG, getting hot and heavy with his husband, hearing the first word through the wall: I'm gonna kill him.

WX, a whole bastard, 10% less sexually frustrated than his husband: Oh honey you can’t kill your own son :)

XG: he can’t be my son! I'm gay!

WX: 😱 really? Why didn’t you tell me? 😱

_

LC, referring to eventual friend ZRL: Wu Xie, i want a brother

WX: go to your room and turn on the music loud, we'll get to it :)

LC: EW!!

s1utspeare

wu xie takes rilin to the xinyue hotel

WX: zhang rishan! Look! Your grandson!! 😊

ZDRS: oh hello rilin

ZRL: hi zhang fuguan

ZDRS: how is your exchange student program going

ZRL: pretty good, Im learning a lot

ZDRS: excellent. study hard

ZRL: yes sir

WX: what the fuck

later

WX: wait wAIT WHO DID HE EXCHANGE HIM WITH

meanwhile, at the zhang clan

Su Wan: i am very afraid :)

[acircusfullofdemons]

hi this makes absolutely No Sense, mostly bc its sort of a mix between my fandom & original paracosm and also I just. haven't mentioned ANY of these paras yet (I think).

so I've had this one storyline for a while now where Simon gets possessed by a demon & then does a bunch of Crazy Shit (Ie; running away from home, killing people, in a constant state of paranoia & fear). The problem was that it didn't really go anywhere...he would always manage to contact Tim (his dad) & from there Simon would either live with being possessed or get an exorcism preformed on him which gets rid of the demon. I let it be bc there wasn't really much else to do.

Until now. There's this all powerful demon (Z) who wants to take over the world or whatever & is rivals with Richard. So. He finds Simon struggling. His parents got divorced when he was 12 & he was forced to live with his mom, who basically cut all contact with Tim afterwards. Simon always hated this, especially because Lucy (his mom) had CHEATED on Tim....needless to say, he was a pretty easy target for Z. Lucy eventually got tired of Simon's behavior (tbf - he was kind of an asshole, but even then he still recognized he needed therapy. lucy just refused to put him in) so she sends him off to a catholic boarding school, hoping that they can knock some sense into him.

His behavior only gets worse: cursing out teachers, skipping class, sneaking outside of school grounds. Its during one of these sneak-outs he meets Z. Idk the specific details but eventually Z convinces Simon to join him, and to prove that he was loyal, he needed to either kill someone or burn down the school - preferably both tbh. So Simon does that & runs away with Z + some other people Z manipulated. Z starts turning Simon into a demon - a process which Simon accepts bc, honestly, he doesn't care at this point. He really only wants to find his dad, and if this is what it took to find him, then so be it.

Skipping around a little bit, Simon actually does find Tim! Except its during a battle & Simon's so far gone that it....doesn't go so well. Simon confronts his dad for abandoning him. Lucy had told Tim to stay the fuck away, and though Tim did try to keep contact, it was hard due to his job & that was dangerous as hell so sadly Tim decided it was best if he just stayed away - a horrible mistake bc look where they are now. Anyway. Simon says some more hurtful things, screams at Tim, tries to kill him, etc. Until he gets knocked out. He's brought to RoseWood's infirmary & everyone's like "dude just let him die he's too far gone" but Tim feels guilt as hell & refuses to abandon Simon again, especially now, when there's a chance he can still save / help / be there for his son.

& that's sort of where it is now. probably not gonna think about this one for a while bc Tim is a Comfort Para & some scenes just get a little to...Real for me. but yeah if u read this far (1) im sorry that probably made 0 sense & (2) thank u for reading !!!

[rpausandwhatifs]

Is This What You Call...Safety?|| Hush Hush

A/N: This is for my friend Jayde for her belated birthday! Enjoy bb!

@ledabunnie-rp @nevergoodenoughforthetruth

Vincent had came to work, but he had gone through his load entirely too fast. He was mostly at the hands of one guy- and he was the host. However, it was too late to really think about it before the drugs had set in, causing the man to stumble and fumble as the pills he took before the party mixed with the lean in the cup he finished while making sales. He was a blurry mess and somehow guided his way to the closest bathroom he found in a part of this rented house where most of the goers in this area were having sex or chatting it up so they could hear. He pushed past them, going into the first open door and falling into it. “Oh..fuck..” he muttered as he almost collided with the wall, feeling the tile and touching the wall as the spinning continued and he found his way into the toilet, vomiting immediately before finding the flush lever.

Leda forgot that she didn’t lock the door, so the really cute boy in the skin tight chinos and boots with the long hair barged in it scared her half to death. She put her 3DS down and slid her headphones off, about to bang on the glass chamber that was the stand alone shower until something stopped her and it just made her watch the man try to recover as he lit a cigarette. 

The man propped himself up and crawled to the top of the toilet and threw the lid down as he took another drag, trying to see where the light switch was even though there was a hue of red and purple from the string lights. Quickly giving up on his adventure he threw up one more time into the bowl and sat up on the closed toilet, dragging his cigarette while he let the cool porcelain calm him down. He heard the distant movements in the shower and pryed one eye open to barely see a girl with turquoise hair in a rave outfit with a backpack or something staring at him in a clear box. "Who's in the shower?" He calls out, rocking his head back and forth fighting the nausea.

"I'm here in spirit..I don't exist," Leda said back, weary at how he was able to spot her.

"That's the most human thing I've ever heard from a spiritual entity," he laughs and scoffs, "That's a cute voice you got, you have a name oh spirit?"

"I'm... not telling you that.." she said, "And you die from a heart attack in here im not saving you."

"Are...you... you're in here.. you're human- fuck i can't see- are you in the shower? Is that why you sound like that?" He asked with a small joke, "Wanna cigarette?"

"Maybe.. if you can't see then how are you smoking and offering me one?" She challenged him.

"Muscle memory. You'd be surprised how many things you can do automatically.. Just with your arms and hands..." he trailed off, "Also you didnt drink out of the cup when you got here? You sound like... crazy sober."

"No..I didn't, Felix told me about it before the party and I just-"

"Wanted to keep your clout you came to this party even though you didn't want to, but you didn't wanna let your friends down, but you didnt wanna just sit at home on a Friday night again..I heard something close, did you bring a video game?" He said.

"Shut the fuck up, Vincen-"

"Ohhh you do know me... interesting. It must be because of Felix... speaking of, wonder who he's got down his throat...Ah, I'll worry about it later...I thought I knew his friends.." he muses, I would remember an ethereal voice like yours.."

"I...I..." she was stuck, she shouldn't have said his name, "Thanks for the compliment, can you go back to quietly being too fucked up on drugs to acknowledge me now?"

"Actually...I've overstayed my welcome at this place anyway.. there's a guy in here and he's... less than thrilled his house got rented out for the debauchery that is horny college students," he mentioned, slowly lowering himself on the floor and crawling to Leda, placing himself against the wall, facing straight ahead with the girl in what would be his peripheral.

Leda's ears perked up, he knows there's a spirit in here? Was he just pulling her leg or what? His eyes were still closed but his voice sounded way better up closer than across the large bathroom. The crackles and creaks of it made her nervous. "There isn't anyone in here," she claims supposedly.

"No... he's dead. The house was sold to a PM that rents houses out for events and vacations..he likes the renovation though...He showed me he carried you in here," Vincent said, "You woke up and immediately tried to protect yourself in the shower."

"Now you're making shit up," she called out wrapping on the glass box.

"If I'm making shit up then how'd you get in here?" He asked and was met with silence, "You don't remember... do you?..He told me you just kinda walked out your house with the lights on.. guess he didn't want you to get hurt- but seriously, how did you not drink the syrup at the door?"

"I poured it out when no one was looking and washed out the cup with vodka and hoped an appletini would calm me down.. cus I got really anxious being around everybody pushing everyone and the music is too loud..." she started, drawing her knees to her chest, "He scared the shit out of me."

Vincent laughed, "Yeah that's how i was when i saw him standing in the middle of the room... Did you want the cigarette? Also i have a valium if you want one.."

Leda smiled when he laughed, feeling way better that someone other than her could see spirits and understood possession. She knew what valium was, and just one couldn't hurt with a cigarette cutting it up, "He tell you how he died?"

"Wife poisoned him.. then shot him.. didn't take the divorce very well... sounds like a gold-digging bitch anyway," Vincent said as he used his to light another for her.

"Wow... you don't wanna share?" She gasped quietly as she slid her hand out of a crack in the door to take the cig.

"That.. would mean I get closer... didn't think you'd want that.. you know who I am..I'm the drug dealer on this campus... You don't know what I'm capable of.." he warns her, finally looking into the glass at the door, "I sold all the things I have so anything at this point is personal stock.. but..I couldn't keep a freebie from a cutie like you holy shit...If I could see you like he showed me, I dunno if I could contain myself.. What color is your hair?" He leans into the glass as his head starts spinning again almost muttering his words. He gets up and takes out a Tic-Tac, fumbling his way to the sink and crunching on it as he washed his mouth out on the faucet, wetting his face and wiping it on a towel before bringing the damp cloth to the floor. He stumbled back to the huge glass chamber on his hands and knees, opening the door and crawling over her and excusing himself before settling next to her.

Leda was shaken to her core at his words, and forgot that he was probably on a few different drugs and high on something else. She couldn't get her mouth to open to create the words. She quickly forgot the question and watched with wide eyes as she no longer was terrified of opening the door when Vincent pushed it back and crawled to her. She was almost shaking as he excused himself. "Purple a-and pink," she stammered, "I have to dye it again..I'm doing black with tips.."

"Hm..i see," Vincent said with a weak nod, pushing his wet hair back again as he exhaled, "I'm sorry I'm trying to come down and this shit is coming in like... waves and.. fuck~"

"What is it specifically?" She asked, taking him in, he looks so interesting yet her eyes darted back to the toilet across the room, "And don't worry I don't need the valium right away..”

"Ah shit right.. the valium.. doing what weed has done for years since the 70s," he chided as he fished a pill bottle out of his pocket, then handing her two pills of different shape and color.

"What's that?" She quickly asked.

"Muscle relaxant..that's for you too..helps the valuim, no psychoactive side effects to speak of...reduces lactic acid," he mentioned, relighting her cig, "I have friends in pharmaceutical chemistry.. they really hook me up and in return they get paid in weed.. down the hatch."

Leda's heart was racing at how he sounded so close to her, lighting her up like a gentleman even as a slumped mess. She smoked quietly as he had fallen into another unconscious stupor while the drugs were doing their job. They were working faster than she expected. "Vincent..." she called to the ceiling, "I'm tired.."

"I thought you would be..i forgot to tell you it acts fast.. but you're fine I promise," he mentioned.

"No I feel amazing, I just...I need something soft to lay on," she sighed.

"How about we go to one of the suites?" He offered, "I can see now if my legs will work."

They get up, getting out of the bathroom in search for unoccupied rooms. Settling on the empty pool house, where they found an open skylight in the bathroom since the doors were locked. They bust in and find the bedroom, resuming their conversation in this California simple and dainty king bed.

"Why'd you lock the bathroom door?" She asked as she lit her own cig even though she just begged him for it.

"You always do that at college parties if you create another entrance to the bathroom.." he said simply laying back on the end of the bed with his legs planted to the floor, bending his head up to see the girl snuggled in his jacket, twisting his body to lay on his stomach, "uhhmm yeah, you lock the door behind you at any party because frat boys with give you a swirly or worse..or someone who's eager to use the bathroom and they're too fucked up to be aware so they do it on you-"

"Ugh that's gross!" She exclaimed, laughing lightly, really allowing herself to enjoy this guy that she barely knew and at most should have hated. He just was so sweet and up her alley for her to ever admit but he undoubtedly made an effort to come to this party for her. She hadn't realized until she looked down and saw him looking up at her again from her feet. She could kill for his eyes and the way he collapsed on her legs to just touch them, it was sending electricity as dull needy aches through her body. "Vincent~... what are you doing?"

"Admiring your body... listening to you talk.. thinking about how i can get my jacket back," he croaks stretching a little, lightly throwing his head back on the bed, "What you thinking?"

"Have you come down yet?" She asked cutely, and instantly panicked at her casual feelings of interaction with him.

"Not all the way, I'd have to sleep it off mostly or something...sex also resets the clock, but...we're not doing that," he mentions while he rubs his eyes, checking his phone.

Her chest caved when he mentioned sex, and even though he wasn't offering it up, she just wondered what it would feel like to be that close with a guy like him. If this is all he usually did, outside of being a homewrecker as she's heard, then maybe he's not a creep. Girls do lie in college for any reason, but always putting themselves at an advantage. "Uhh.." seeped out of her mouth before she bit her lip and tried to disguise that.

"You know I'm looking right at you, right?" He says to her, giggling at her embarrassment, "Don't feel like you have to...I know you've got a problem with peer pressure-"

"I don't!...I don't have a problem with peer pressure..shut up!" She bit at him.

"Rawr...calm down kitty cat, put the claws away..Im just saying. Me mentioning sex kinda made you think," Vincent said, "When's the last time you got some..if you have gotten any- cus I have came across a few virgins..."

"Were they virgins when you were done with them?" She asked tongue in cheek.

"Mostly. I respeected that they didn't want sex...and they're firm in their beliefs that they're still a virgin if thou therein whereto receive or produce cunnilingus... they just want neverending head. It's heroine to them," he explains gesticulating to make it interesting and twisting his voice.

"Isn't that a good thing?" She asked, loosening her grip on the pillow she was holding.

"I don't mind it... but sometimes they're horrible at head and that's all they can do. Girls at this school count the ass too, so even face-fucking is a far cry."

"Oh..okay...Uhhh..I haven't thought about it, honestly.. been kinda dealing with my issues over having sex. The stories I hear about hooking up really have weirded me out.." she's admitted.

"Are you a virgin?" He asked, exaggerating his inflection.

"Unfortunately no.. well, I consider myself a born-again...I don't really remember a lot of the sex I used to have, and since it was... traumatic, to say the least, I'd rather act like it didn’t happen and get more memorable experiences, cus...I heard it's fun if done right," she explained.

"It is...I'll keep it in mind.." he nodded with a smirk, sighing as a weak wave passed thru him.

"Yeah.. but.. you've peaked my curiosity, honestly," she jumped up to say, causing Vincent to turn his head and raise an eyebrow.

"I hardly think that's fair," he said with a giggle, "You took a valium and a muscle relaxant..you'll never cum or cum too much. Im fucked up, and not exactly of consenting or open to communicating during sex like you might need me to..."

"That's... true.. then why touch my legs if you weren't going to?" She asked, a little frustrated, kicking her legs a little.

"See? That's what I'm talking about!... Acting like a brat when you haven't asked for anything," he said, giggling.

"But...I..." she started, realizing herself that he was right.

"You didn't straight up ask for sex.. you implied that it interests you..I can't start anything off implications," he explained, sitting up.

"I know how consent works, don't fucking patronize me!" She snapped shoving his chest with her foot. He falls back and rolls his eyes, which makes her more riled up, throwing his jacket on the floor.

"Leda.. what the fuck?" He asked sitting up on his knees to look at his jacket, "What the hell is your problem?"

"Don't act all fucking innocent! I know you.. you're a damn dog and you would've had me 5 ways to Sunday by now! Rosanna told me how creepy and controlling you are-"

"Thaaaaat's who it is... see i knew it sounded familiar.. You're her rogue drone! I just didn't realize... are you spying on me? Did she send you?" He jumped up once he realized why she knew him, her name would come up with he spoke to Rosanna, possibly whenever they were speaking again.

"Wh-No! She's not even at this party! She's with Mark!" She fussed, "It doesn't mean she's wrong..."

"Uh that's exactly what the fuck it means-"

"Why should I listen to you?" She prodded, folding her arms.

"You've got this fucking far! Wouldn't you want to at least understand my side? Ms. Confectionery Prodigy got some skeletons of her own," he was quick to explain how they had a fleeting relationship that was mostly roleplay meetings and oral and heavy petting. Leda wasn't entirely convinced and he made her promise not to tell anyone before he showed their messages leading up until the first 3 months she was dating Mark. It was Ro no doubt. Her fantastical language and promptness in response, pastry emojis as her signature. Cookie's toys in her explicit pictures.

"That's ridiculous..so she just left you for dead?" Leda asked, knowing she just swore never to speak of this, but she had some questions because he'd seen a side of her not even Mark has seen. And probably never will. "Why?" She asked simply.

"Said I reminded her of her ex. She was in deep with the guy.. he was older so she felt like her freedom in her youth had kinda been held back, so she went after me and Mark because she just... found herself in the middle of being young at heart but feeling grown and confident...I guess.. but she's always worried about her lies being found out and she loves a secret if she can help it," he said with a shrug, "They way she spoke about him, I'd love to drink with him, but, she's just happy where she is and who was I to stop her? If she hadn't made me a villain then she would have lost everything- from her confidence to her credibility."

"So you just... leave her alone? That's..that's," Leda was almost at a loss, but it was both the most mature and childish and high school thing she had ever heard. This felt like the heaviest thing she's encountered in a while.

"Not for you to think about," Vincent said, quickly and low as he had inched closer to brush her hair behind her ear, "Humans are complex creatures.. weaving these dangerous webs of lies and history.. you should always worry about your own but don't ever give anyone the benefit of the doubt.."

Leda couldn't handle his gentle touch or his words, she wanted to still be mad and hate him for it but she didn't know how. She wanted to be mad at Ro for being such a hypocrite but most of that was pushed back when she felt his lips on her jawline. It made her shudder and lean into him, submitting herself into the kiss that could replace her first kiss. She wanted more, she wanted him. Her mouth pushed out little sounds against him, whining quietly when he pulled back and breathed with a smile. "Vincent~" she breathed, her head in a tizzy.

"You want it don't you?" He asked, his lower voice sending shivers through her body.

"Can I have more, though, ..of what you gave me?" She asked, "I-"

"Later, okay?.. You'll be fine without it," he interrupted her with a soft smile and backing up to give her space to breathe and rubbing her back.

“Uhm...I feel like-”

“You’re overwhelmed...it’s okay. You seem confused, and it scares you a little...”

“I wouldn’t say it scares me..I just have never related to someone I now wish I hadn’t met..so much so..Because..Rosanna...Rosanna would-” the girl gasped and controlled her hollow breathing, definitely happy she had his hand on her back to focus on.

“You don’t know what Rosanna would do..and you really thought you’d known her..is that it?” he asked.

“Y-Yes!..N-No~! I-I mean...I don’t know how I feel~ I’m really into you, but...but why me?!” she asked looking at him with slight exasperation.

“You look like you deserve not to be living in someone’s shadow just because you don’t see yourself that way,” he answered.

“Is that what you said to Rosanna?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“No..what I said to Rosanna to start our whole fling is..vastly different from just us talking about a mutual friend-”

“What about my current state makes you think I’m gonna be friends with her-”

“You wouldn’t throw her away for me..”

Leda leered at the Vincent and clenched her jaw, knowing that this whole night was something she’d throw her whole life away just so she’d know where in the world he’d whisk her away to and for how long. “And what if I did?” she asked at a low whisper.

“What do you think you’d deserve for doing that? Because I definitely didn’t ask you to renounce your gods and join my great legion of the undead...”

“This would totally work if I was a Virgo or a Taurus, but I’m a Leo, so you must not understand-”

“I’m a Sagittarius, and I’m attempting to be very patient but since I know I don’t have to I’ll call you stupid to your face. That would be one of the dumbest decisions you could make but the fact that I make you feel like you’d rather make that decision than live with the ‘what-ifs’ or knowing that you could never look at Rosanna the same way again because I arouse you intellectually and emotionally-”

“Don’t forget sexually-”

“And sexual- Really?” Vincent looked over at her.

“You talk a lot, I see why she liked you...” 

“You hate talking about yourself-”

“I can talk about myself-”

“You can’t even tell me you want to have sex with me let alone that you like me..also, I feel like that should be thought about after tonight...given the circumstances,” Vincent sitting up, backing away from her more. It causes the girl to stare at him at the loss of touch completely, pushing out a frustrated sigh. The air was tight to her, but Vincent rolled his eyes and pulled the glass rod from his jacket pocket in front of her and smoked out of it.

“So...could you maybe stop being an aloof prick and explain to me how to get laid?” she said while pulling the ponytail out of her hair and taking the rod from his fingers and smoking out of it.

“You want to fuck me specifically or you want some faceless hookup?” he asked giggling.

“What exactly is a faceless hookup, Vincent?” she asked, her eyes meeting his again for the first time in a while and still couldn’t keep herself together. His hand was gently over hers and she deciding on playing with his fingers, biting her lip.

“Well, first off, you’d have to take off your clothes...then I’d suggest a brief makeout session before first or second base- given that my way of doing these things is slow mostly-”

“I dunno if I have the patience for slow,” Leda said quickly as she slid off the side of the bed and stood up, pulling her pants down and deciding to undo the knot that kept her shirt up, hiding her midriff. Then got back to Vincent as he tried to watch, but his mind flowed with ideas. He pushed himself forward, planting his feet on the floor and taking off his boots. He looked up at Leda, who was waiting for him patiently, which made him smirk as he stood up and gave way to his jeans.

“You don’t have the patience for slow?” he echoed.

“Nah, never did. Guys usually don’t take their time with me or they had made up their minds already and I hadn’t gotten a choice,” she explained, hoping her shirt hid her thighs rubbing together at the crooner in front of her. She could feel her anxiety rise in an interesting way as Vincent saw right through her. “Vincent-” she didn’t mean to breathe.

He raised his eyebrows as he heard the wind whisper his name, and he quickly moved around her to make the back of her more aligned to the back of the bed. She gasped a little as she heard his phone and wallet hit the nightstand and did a magician’s gesture to make a condom appear between his fingers, “Not yet, though.”

“Why?” she asked.

“You tell me,” he said, gently taking her waist into his hands and Leda could barely hold in her exhale and moan as it felt so slight as her body moved into it. All of the thoughts started flooding and so did the memories. She felt like he could be there at any second, but there was Vincent blocking him. Her body ached a bit at how he just froze. “Your lips look so soft and plush..and I like your hair down like this.”

The girl tried to hide, but it was met with another squeeze, “V-Vincent~” she sputtered as he kept yanking her out of her head, feeling the muscle relaxants and the weed mix. 

“You alright, babe?” he asked softly in her ear, being sure to not touch her elsewhere. Leda didn’t understand why she felt this way. 

“No..” her voice shook as she gulped, “My head’s going crazy but my body’s not..and I want to be terrified, but that’s..just..not what I’m feeling...What was in that tube thing?..” She finally asked.

“Weed obviously...not even the stuff I sold tonight. It’s a preview from the guy I buy off of-”

“I don’t really smoke grass-”

“Is it because THC can be a psychostimulant?”

“Ye-yes!..I feel like-” she cut herself off and took in his cologne instead. She couldn’t let him know what all she was thinking. It wouldn’t make sense. She would look more certifiably crazy then. Her mouth pushed out half of moan as she exhaled his scent where she tasted the cigarette and the fact they had been at a college house party. 

“I was gonna tell you to take a deep breath but you did it already-”

“Are you...Are you gonna fuck me or not?” she balled up her fists.

“If you would let me fucking finish and stop interrupting me solely to say something that would piss me off then yes!” Vincent said as he let her sides go and folded his arms.

“Not my fault you drugged me and are taking your time..” she folded hers and looked away from him, not wanted to meet his eyes.

“So what, I was supposed to brazenly assau- Ooooohhhhhh....You’re not mad at me..And...I just became mad at myself for realizing it-”

“What?” she asked, whipping her head towards his.

“You don’t know how to enjoy it, because you’ve never been given the option..nor the opportunity,” he mentioned, returning his hands to her sides quickly. 

“What?!” Leda asked, more surprised and now sent back through those thoughts of him touching her again, “You do-don’t know if I-”

“You told me you did..I dunno if it changed..did it?” putting slightly more pressure to allow her to embrace him.

“Ugh~..no..” she once again cursed herself on the inside from only getting a hug from being revved up by his hands lingering on her waist and lower back. Part of her just wanted to let go, or at least tell him to- since part of her completely trusted him. He passed the tests. He was so close to figuring her out and it angered her how clandestine he could carry himself through it all. Her body relaxed into the long hug and waited for this to not be real. For Vincent to pop a hard-on or something so that she knew he was doing all of this because he was still plastered and wanted to bed her. It was hard to expect him to do that when he would talk and his hands wouldn’t really move. And when he moved he tried to stay quiet. Leda’s arms started to move once again, snaking her arms up and crossed them behind his neck, “B-be...be gentle, alright?” she pulled back slightly to meet his eyes- gods those eyes- and his hair in his face before kissing him.

x

Leda was at Vincent’s again, no longer afraid of him or his touch, if anything, he’s the only one whom she trusted. Before she would be ready to fight if anyone tried to touch her, and obviously Vincent was given exclusive access. However, Vincent had to always do something to salvage their experiences, and there were times where he didn’t have it in him. 

The fresh couple lived through such a visceral honeymoon stage that Leda couldn’t think that a guy could have loved her more than the one who was after Cameron. She tried so hard not to think about it. One evening Leda was excitedly waiting for Vincent in the car while he made a sale. This is how they started dating and it just became something she found herself doing before she stopped staying in her dorm and sleeping at Vincent’s apartment. He came back and put everything in the trunk before getting in the car and only resting his head in his arms over the steering wheel with a huge sigh.

“Baby..you ok?” she asked as she sat up and rubbed his back. 

“No..” he said quietly, desperately trying to keep himself together. 

“Well..we..we gotta go..or..are we going somewhere?” Leda said, looking up and looking around.

“I have to go back in there...It’s not like..I mean you don’t care right?” he finally says when he sits up and pushes his hair back.

“How can you even ask me that question?” Leda looked at him, coming off louder than she expected, “What do you mean?”

“We’re not...This isn’t..Look it’s a party in there and...I wanna be single tonight. Like my boss, he’s- fucking treating me to the party in there and I can’t tell him you’re in here and you don’t do parties so-”

“I never said I don’t do parties. I don’t do party drugs and uncomfortable situations-”

“Your whole life is an uncomfortable situation, Leeds,” Vincent chuckles lightly, reaching in a pocket for his cig he started before he went in the first time, “It’s not gonna take me that long, babe..”

“Wait! You’re actually going back to the party?” she pushed her hand on his chest, then shook her head slowly, “What the fuck?”

“I’m going back in, yes. To enjoy the party? No...To probably get my dick sucked by a drunk Sean McLoughlin cus he’s been walled up and he said he would?..Yea-” he gave her some theatrics before turning away.

“NOO!” she snatched his shoulder, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“What? You’re not going to do anything about it. And it’s not gonna change anything with..us..per say...it’s just I’m having sex with Sean tonight,” he tried to explain.

“I’m not fucking stupid! That’s if I allowed you to! Who put you at the head of this relationship?” she looked at him, perplexed and angry.

“Who put you at the head of this relationship? Listen, half of this problem is the fact that I fuck other people. The other half would be the disrespect of dishonesty and I’m not giving you that!” he said trying to deescalate the situation.

Leda was so upset and couldn’t believe that he was just trying to brush off cheating in her face. He had brought up a few good points, so maybe he doesn’t understand how this hurts her, “Ok but you’re not respecting my additional choices, the fact that I may feel some type of way about it- You just came in here and told me you’re gonna fuck Sean!”

“Is it because it’s Sean specifically?” he asked, pulling back a little.

“Urgh! No! Well-..no, because...I should call Mark because he should be home right now,” Leda tried to say, feeling caught up by his question and now enraged that she felt anything because he was still in the wrong. 

“We can drop him off,” he shrugged and chuckled before looking over to her, “Oh come on! I wouldn’t not stop the car or anything like that. I’d make sure he’s sober or at least hydrated...but he looks like he could blow off some steam and he gets a safe ride home. You can bring him in his dorm, tuck him in, let Mark know he got back in one piece- fuck! Knowing Musclebound Buffpants he’s probably on his way because Sean probably called him accidentally on purpose.”

“He’s with Ro tonight..she told me he’s being held hostage for the night,” she interjected with not as much energy, “Why won’t you take him in? You’re the guy!”

“I’m in the running to apply for Alpha president..I don’t have good luck with being seen in a good light..You know that, you came from the factory,” Vincent  scoffed, before finishing the cig and flicking the butt out of the window and blowing the smoke with it, “And so because Ro is with her future husband, you have to play pretend with me?”

“No! Can’t we just...like hang out?! What the fuck is your problem?” Leda snapped at him, throwing her hands up.

“This! This moment right now and everything about it is my problem, Leda!” Vincent snapped back, “Answer me this, am I your boyfriend?”

“No, I-”

“Right. Not your boyfriend. And you’re not my girlfriend. You won’t let us call us an us...and why is that again?”

“Because you’re a fucking prick.”

“Ah no..sorry, we were looking for you care too much about Ro’s opinion and your social status with her friendship.”

“No I fucking don’t! I don’t need to be with her like that!” she defended weakly.

“Listen, if you don’t like what I’m doing then take my car and do whatever the fuck you want and I’ll call you in an hour. Go back to my place, go fuck someone else, go have a some weird lesbian fantasy about your best friends and deny it in an attempt to keep them because you know you don’t have a chance. Go hang with someone else, actually fucking take your meds and do your homework for once-”

“Shut up, Vincent!” she yelled as she shoved him, causing him to abruptly get up, slamming the door shut and wrangling his car key off his ring and tossing it in the car. Leda had screamed when he shut the door, holding her arms up defensively as she heard the keys fly into the car through the driver’s window and hit the dashboard.. the girl cried for several minutes and contemplated going into the party, but it was too dangerous. She realized she shouldn’t have come with him. She takes his car and has a night out of her own, knowing Charlie was probably aching for some human contact. 

X

Vincent couldn’t believe he actually was able to move in. He was already so excited to be the Alpha house president, even if not everyone agreed with him. Rosanna dutifully worked under him and kept herself busy, vowing to herself and to Mark that they almost never see one another unless it concerns the house. Vincent could still see every moment they had together. He doesn’t ignore her lingering looks and touches while they tried to quickly check and proof records and evaluations and documents for the house. She didn’t regret no looking back when she could still steal glances from the very corners of her eyelids and faintly think of Mark for a second. Allowing their imagery, their voices, their strength to overtake her for a fleeting moment before she was brought back and remembered the business at hand. 

Since Leda disappeared with his car a few weeks back, Vincent hadn’t a clue what came over her after one fight on one night. She hadn’t known where she’d gone, but didn’t know what Cyr had done with the things of hers that she left. She went up to the registry and seen that Cyr lived in Alpha now. She had remembered him very vaguely discussing running for Alpha president, but hadn’t really cared about it at the time- she thought he wouldn’t get it. Vincent was going over the printout of the proposal for an event that Rosanna had suggested to boost revenue and new pledge turnout when he got a shiver, and it made him play it off by rolling his neck. “You ok?” Ro cooed, rubbing his shoulders, Vincent sinking in.

The girl had found out that he had done away with his off-campus apartment for Greek Row, so she took the long walk going up from the office. Ro hadn’t been this sweet on him, and she didn’t know what came over her in this moment to try her luck- to see if it still pulled the same, to see if it was still like lighting a fuse, to see if he remembered her. She couldn’t help herself taking in his relaxation into her hands and watching him push his glasses off, “Ah..yeah uh...You’re just gonna have to come back for the second..revision...tomorrow- I..I don’t think I’m gonna get this done,” he said, rubbing his face and taking a few more breaths before taking both her hands in his swiftly and gently, bringing them on top of one another, and closing them in his as he directed her to come from behind him. He locked eyes with her as he slowly stood up, towering over her as he let her hands fall, hearing the light gasp as her hands fell. The lanky man turned back around, having already excusing himself past her to start gathering the papers on the table, at her noise, “You alright, doll?” he asked plainly and still killed her.

Leda knew somewhere that maybe if she could admit her side of the story, things would be smoother. She could definitely talk to Ro about Cyr than to Cyr about Ro, and since no one can know, it felt even more important. She admired all the people around and the new faces for a mundane weekday on campus as she strolled onto Greek Row, seeing the lights on and the Congratulations banner still up from his apparent celebration. Vincent felt the shiver again as he put his shirt back on and played it off by adjusting it. Ro was long gone, but it was another isolated moment of quick stimulation. All she ever wants is to be touched, and he knew all the right spots and loved the noises she made when he did get them just the right way. It didn’t worry Leda much that Ro wasn’t answering her phone at this time of day, she probably fell asleep after a brisk walk with Cookie. Joey sang her praises for her return and spoke of the boy who’s car she’d stolen and no longer had. “Leda~..wow...I wasn’t sure what happened, but you can come get all your stuff- uh...I dunno if you wanna talk or anything-”

“Who is she?” Leda asked, pushing past him and wiped her finger across his lips then showing him, “Whoever it is, it’s a cute color..”

“Leda, I think you owe me an explanation-” he said flatly, pulling off his shirt entirely and wiping his face.

“Is my room in here still good?” she asked as she immediately started picking out and finding clothes. She was safe here again, she didn’t need to hide. 

“I let them give it up for more room, we had an influx of- Stop that...Leda, talk to me-” he said, strolling over before getting a hand to the chest.

“Congrats on becoming President, baby~! How about..we celebrate?..Just you and me! Just like before! Hm? I wanna take a shower first, though, cus I’ve been...traveling all day,” she led him into the bathroom as she turned the shower on.

“Can we talk while you shower?” he asked, standing and filling the doorway, “You know this whole suite is mine. So it really is just us.”

“Nah..you, me, the spirits I brought with me and that are on these grounds, the gods and goddesses, and Rosanna’s lace dainties?” she said as she picked the light lace cheeky underwear on the bathroom floor, “Let me take my shower alone, please.”

~

Vincent sat out and cleaned up his room a little bit, chain-smoking as he wasn’t sure what was going to happen when the girl got out of the bathroom. Leda didn’t really understand how she felt the way she did, and why she wasn’t angry at Ro. Why was it a little more interesting to know she was still going to Cyr to get her rocks off? She opened the door to Vincent’s surprise, not wearing anything else but her t-shirt bra and a dainty lace thong. Her hair falling over her curves just right, and he couldn’t help but follow her with his eyes. She had grown up into her shape more, maybe not as much colour on her still plush soft skin, but there’s now tattoos and her hair is as vibrant a colour can be when he met her. She smiled at him, even though she wasn’t smiling on the inside, and she straddled his waist on his bed. She lured him into a kiss and an energy boost he’d missed from her- the world felt more at balance and it made sense with their lips pushed together. “I missed you..so much..” he breathed, unable to hold back his overwhelming comfort.

“Your car broke down and I left it on the side of the road in Oregon..I sold the drugs out the trunk and ran into some ex...problems,” Leda started, “Did some cat and mouse and travelling and yeah..I..I missed you, too Vincent~” 

“That’s fine...but..why’d you leave in the first place?” Vincent asked laying back as she worked on kissing his neck and grinding. The girl stopped and avoided his eyes, “Leda...Leda baby you can tell me..I’ve been waiting about a year to know...” he reassured her as he leaned up to embrace her and kiss her shoulder.

“I-....I..He said he was gonna find me, and the stick had a plus on it and I was gonna show you when we got home, but even I didn’t wanna go home so...” she stiffened as she explained, moving her fringe out of her face, shrugging.

“You were pregnant?” he asked, eyes immediately darting down, “Did you lose it?”

“I...I just didn’t want you to get upset and I didn’t want him to find me if I-”

“Ok Ok...I don’t care about that..What happened to the baby, Leda?” he asked her pulling her in and rubbing her back.

“I lost her...” her voice broke, “I can’t have kids...he’ll find me. He did this to me...”

“Hey, hey, hey...Hey, look at me, Leeds. Alright?..I’m not mad about the car..I’m not mad that you had to handle things with your ex..and I’m not mad about the baby...” Vincent said, “I just wanted to know if you were ok..And that I wasn’t holding your stuff and you didn’t need it anymore..”

Leda couldn’t help her tears and was so glad she had a fresh naked face to let herself cry in. “I-I-It’s not that I didn’t want her, I just..she didn- I dunno what happened...” she tried to say while she cried.

“It’s alright, babe..Don’t worry. She’ll come when she’s ready, okay? And when she does I have no doubt she’ll be as beautiful, smart, and creative as her wonderful mother,” Vincent said, rubbing her back some more, “Listen, next time you get knocked up, I’ll take care of you...I’ll make sure nothing happens to you...I’ll keep you safe.”

“Vincent~ you can’t..no one can..he’s always gonna find me,” Leda whined, shaking her head quickly, “He’ll kill you.”

“Not if I kill him first and even then, I’m giving all of this to you. You deserve not to worry. You deserve safety, babe,” he said, “Is that why you were at my apartment?’

“Yes, but you don’t live there anymore-”

“I’m subleasing until I graduate from here...or I get tired of these people finally,” he chided.

“And how long do you think that’s going to last?..Especially if it’s you and Ro..” she started chuckling lightly.

“I don’t think it’s gonna be me and Ro for much longer, anyway,” he sighs, letting the girl off his lap and onto his bed as he got up to start turning the lights down and closing off his room from his office, “Don’t get me wrong- it’s exciting! It really is, but she shouldn’t be doing that. She’s...gonna need that wakeup call.”

Leda sat and waited for him and lit one of his cigs from the box on the nightstand even though he opted for the little glass tube, “What do you mean?”

“She’s still careless, she’s playing with fire...She didn’t want everybody to know but she’s had-like- two scares...She’s gonna tell you when she finds out that you’re back,” he said, hushing his voice like she was in his office. Leda was shocked to say the least, but she liked Vincent for that: he held onto the only side of her she was never proud of.

“Like...pregnancy scares-”

“No STI- yes pregnancy scares! Told me that she didn’t want to get rid of the kid but didn’t want to think of losing the life she was building with Mark and wanted all of the kids she had to be in their happily ever after or whatever shit...you know Rosie..” Vincent snapped, clearly still emotional and indignant, smoking more frequently as he stress-cleaned his room. Leda was stunned. It wasn’t exactly something she expected from someone who craved so much stability and control- safety. 

“How...”

“She disappeared. Like three times, She told everyone she went to visit family. I saw her and she stayed with me for like..a few days..and we just hung out how she wanted us to. She never left because nobody could know that she was back yet. So when she did return it was like she picked up Cookie from the sitter on her way home from the airport...I liked it, but..when she told me all of that over those days and she told me about being President and how she would eventually hate me enough to overthrow me and then she’ll have her life with Mark and I’ll leave the Youni...”

“So then...when’s the last time you saw Ro?” Leda asked, frightened slightly by what she heard. And part of her wanted to fight her. It wasn’t much of her business but as a friend and as a human that’s not something she should get away with. 

“You didn’t see her going to the Vice President’s suite?..Or the girls’ side? Kitchen?...Cus she literally just left when you had knocked on my door,” Vincent paused and stared at her with a squint.

“Nope,” Leda admitted shaking her head and threw her hands up, “Honestly I didn’t really get here until I told you I lost the baby and by then I kinda knew that I could let it go I guess..because now I feel fine..”

“Weird...I had a weird feeling the whole time she was here that someone was coming..I didn’t think they were alive so I didn’t think anything of it...This is all..you know, Indigenous grounds, not necessarily burial, but sacred space tends to pop up when they’re talking...”

“That’s weird...but highly likely..Western U.S. does have some crazy energy pockets,” Leda said, blushing a little that he knew she was coming, “Are they leftover or residual? The panties, I mean..” She giggled.

“I couldn’t tell ya, but I’d have to guess that she left those in my bathroom because it was very apparent she wasn’t wearing any, but I thought she had come over commando..Didn’t think she committed to the idea while she was in the bathroom. I guess that’s what she’s gonna wait for me to say something about. Can’t lie, I’m gonna miss how smart she is,” he said with a smile and waves of realization of what he liked about the girl after not knowing for so long.

“Clearly not smart enough,” Leda scoffed, “If she’s pulling the ‘I had to go to my mother’s for a summer so I can have an abortion and therapy’ this early in the relationship and they’re still going strong, maybe it’s that you’re not gonna judge her and she can kinda reward herself with you and vice versa- definitely a karmic soulmate...” She smiled again as she realized that they might be a particular soulmate or at least spiritual partner. “Vincent, sit down, please,” she asked sweetly. He sat back down and she rubbed his shoulders, sighing, “I’m sorry, Vince...Like that’s really shitty and I’m..so..sorry, babe..but like that’s what happens when you gamble.”

“It would help if you’d taken responsibility for running out on me fucking months ago,” Vincent bit at her, “Maybe I wouldn’t have leaned on her so much...chasing fucking waterfalls,” he scoffed.

“Wow you’re really gonna sit here and blame me?” she backed up, raising her voice.

“No! I said take some fucking responsibility! Like do you understand how you’re no better sometimes?” he said.

“Oh my- FUCK YOU! Who the fuck are you?!” Leda snapped, shoving his shoulder and getting up.

“Will you keep your voice down?!” he whispered quickly standing up and taking her arm in his hand gently.

“Don’t fucking touch me!-”

“Or what?! You’ll scream? Ro’s gonna come rushing back in here to check on me to find what? Us fucking fighting about her and as far as she knows you dropped out of school,” Vincent breathed, “No one..and I mean no one..knows about any of that.-”

“WHy are you still trying to defend her?!” she growled as she fights him.

“Same reason I defend you, but not the same because you’re not about to marry some meathead to forget your slutty phase,” he mentioned and the girl released her grip, “Also again with the dick jealousy and arousal over your friend and you screwing me.”

“Stop saying that! It’s not fucking true!” she snapped at him.

“I’ve been talking to college girls for a long time. This is the most bisexual thing two straight girls can do is fuck the same guy and give the guy shit for getting off on the fact that at least one of you wants to fuck their lunchbox friend...and right now, you’re the mad at the Snowflake Queen, Needy.”

Leda stopped and looked at him, “Did you really just use that reference?” 

“It’s true. No matter the reference. I’ve told you that before-”

“You didn’t-”

“Yes I did, you just forgot because we were having fun...you know..dating,” Vincent lit his cig, handing it to her, “My whole thing is I wanted you to have fun without living in Rosie’s shadow.”

“Don’t do that,” she said, smoking quickly going back to the bed before he takes her hand and twirls her and dips her.

“What?” he said.

“Don’t call her Rosie,” she said, blushing hard.

“Why? Cus you’d call her Rosie?” he asked, shotgunning a hit with her.

“Stop saying I wanna fuck Ro, cus I don’t,” she giggled.

“You’d watch me fuck her though,” he inserted, putting the butt in the ashtray as he pulled her in, “Or vice versa.”

“She said she would?” she asked, furrowing her brows.

“Needy, when I say she’s never been worried about you when she’s with me, she’s not. I don’t push her, either. Like I think about you if she says or does something that reminds me of you but other than that she’s in her own little world with me,” Vincent said, caressing the girl, looking away to think. 

“Stop calling me Needy, I clearly look like Megan Fox,” she said, meaning to put herself down.

“No, you’re Needy at the end of the movie after she’s been affected by Jennifer,” he explained, “You were simping and running and screaming while getting teased the whole movie then at the end, even though you kinda lost your guy, you’ll get more..and it’s kinda because she took what was meant for you..even if it killed her..”

“Wow..Vincent..did you just say you loved me even if it kills Ro?” Leda asked, smirking wildly.

“Yeah I guess so.”

[blueseakelp]

✨childhood storytime✨ (because i do have memories. shut uP i DO.)

backstory for this: i was thinking about taob zuko and his leg and this memory came to mind AND i decided to share it with the entire internet to get it to stop the rent free-ness (content warning for like burns and shit, i don’t think it’s graphic but tell me if i’m wrong)

alright now. picture this. l o n g summer roadtrip (weeks of camping) with one (and i can’t emphasize this point enough) EXTREMELY dysfunctional family. parents are constantly fighting, an three kids and an infant are along for the ride, eldest child was just extremely dumb and lost their phone (who gives an eight year old a fucking phone that was a terrible idea), and they’re in an entirely different fucking state than where they live. (side note: don’t let your future husband drag you along on a camping road trip after you’ve just given birth if he’s not gonna fucking help with your four kids. no i’m not bitter for my mother because she refuses to be what are you talking about)

NOW, shitty fucking car, stage left. it’s already broken down and been towed ONCE this trip, but Parental Units decide that we can make it fucking work. after all, we only have about half of the trip left, it’ll be okay, right? wrong. car breaks down again. tensions are already high and now we’re in fucking fresno, a shitty californian town with the interest factor of the bottom of a boot and the heat of a goddamn oven.

ANYWAYS, we do slightly illegal shit as *fun family bonding* (which is an oxymoron) yadda yadda yadda it entails mostly just riding in the car as it’s being towed, ducking down to keep out of sight, it’s whatever. fast forward to the car dealership. mother is fucking stressed at this point in the trip, constantly taking care of four kids while my father’s off ??? being indecisive and/or a piece of shit probably. and now OH SHIT they have to buy a car because ours is past the point of no return. it’s now good for parts only. we do the whole thing, pick out a flashy and sexy (old and used) minivan, and now it’s time for negotiations because i’m pretty sure we can’t actually afford the price of this car. maybe we can. (money is perpetually tight until we fast forward five years and the Divorce happens and guess who’s making a shit ton more money than we thought?? ding ding it’s Father Dearest!! guess mother and the kids could’ve afforded those new clothes and foods instead of scrounging and saving all that time :)))))) *insert the “it’s free real estate” meme except “it’s financial abuse”*)

SO we’ve got a family of six looking very homeless with all of their luggage in the middle of a car dealership in fresno, hoping we don’t look desperate so we can buy the fucking car and get back to washington before school starts. i don’t remember how it happened that i, an eight year old child, wound up babysitting my six year old brother in an unfamiliar place with no supervision whatsoever, but my best guess is that my mom had a large dose of “I’m So Fucking Tired Of Four Children” juice that particular morning and my dad honestly did not notice and/or give two shits.

scene is set. the eight year old and the six year old, in the little dealership lounge thing-y, strangers milling about, and either ‘ice age’ or ‘kung fu panda’ playing on the tv screen. eight year old me decides, “hey i’m going to go make myself some dealership!hot chocolate!” as one does. i do, and spoiler alert, it’s scalding. my memory is foggy as shit in general so i actually barely remember most of what i’m telling you (*sings nicely* jigsAw puzzle, we’re putting the picture together) anyways, what i think happens next is that i get distracted and spill the pretty much boiling hot chocolate on myself (i just realized this is todoroki vibes as shit except to myself and the burn isn’t as severe. so actually not really nevermind). 

now, MY first (paraphrased) thought, being the fucked up child and product of my environment that i am, was “oh shit. i can’t tell mom and dad or else they’ll be mad at me that i did a bad job at watching my brother.” can you start to see where my unhealthy mindset comes from? i’ve Been this way. my second thought is probably “i’m glad my pants are tan so that the hot chocolate blends in” which like. it did not and im pretty astounded because i don’t think my parents ever noticed lmao.

everything happens, i grab a TON of napkins to clean up the spill, i ignore the pain of burning skin, i don’t remember how bad it hurt or if i cried but the answer is probably yes to both, and i try to do it as sneakily as possible so none of the adults in the room or my brother notice. mission successful, no one has called me on my bullshit, i’m in the clear. i plan on keeping this a Forever Secret so my parents don’t find out how irresponsible i am, and continue to suffer through what im now aware was probably a pretty severe burn, until it heals. i never treated it or anything, so it’s kind of a wonder it didn’t get infected and kill me. wow, so cool.

to end the story, i don’t actually remember ever telling my mother about this, although she knows somehow? i was really surprised that she did, but one day i was wearing shorts and she just randomly brought it up to my aunt. outside of that, i have no memory of discussing it. (probably at one point she saw the massive burn on my leg and asked me where it was from, is my best guess of how she found out) my father, if he knows (doubtful), has never brought it up. the burn now is pretty faded, but it’s also been the better part of a decade so i’d expect that. the only reason i know any of these memories are real is because i have the scar to prove it, so that’s fun for my brain. for all i know, i could’ve blocked out almost the entirety of what really happened so maybe i shouldn’t take my word for it. at least it makes for a fun and interesting story.

OH ALSO I JUST REMEMBERED the burn was pretty brown-ish when it first happened so eight year old me thought i got permanently stained by the hot chocolate for a little while there slfjlsjdfldhfslh

so yeah this was one of like two off the top of my head stories about how i probably could’ve died in worse circumstances from my own inability to seek help but did Not. also, just another example of my capacity of secrets, because i have a Lot and none of them are the fun kind.

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-05-19

Figured an upd8 was coming, it’s felt like enough time has passed for one.

Huh, looking at my last post I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to play through Pesterquest sometime... work is busy and stressing me out a bit, I’m not sure when I’ll have the energy on the side to do that.  (Maybe I’ll livetweet it like I did Undertale a while ago, but this time not looking at my twitter replies so I don’t get spoiled by One Guy™?)

Also, including bonus commentary on A Threat Sensed.

Okay, going in completely blind.  I’d guessed from context that we’re hopping over to Meat side to get a chapter there before we can come back to actually see Yiffy?

Yep.  Okay, what is this about exactly?

(Agh, dammit, I’ve been copying and pasting so much at work remoting into Windows lately that now I’m automatically trying to hit control-C instead of command-C to copy.)

> CHAPTER 9. How Goes The Eulogizing, Dear?

CONTENT NOTE: This chapter contains Child Abuse.

Which one???

Wait

JANE: (Where is he?) JANE: (It's a question I've found myself asking many times in recent days.)

Holy SHIT we get two Candy chapters in a row???  So we might see her right away??  No, it’s gotta just be another tiny glimpse.

(Has two Candy chapters in a row happened before?  Future Boots, scroll back up and put this here. FUTURE BOOTS: “I forgot to scroll back up and put that here.” EDIT: Also, not the first time with two in a row, but it IS the first time with THREE in a row, huh.)

So Jane has to be talking about either Tavros or Dave.  --Oh, if this was a Candy Side chapter title, I guess Rose or Jade is eulogizing Dave for John?

> (==>)

JANE: (Where now is our merry savior?) JANE: (Where is the horn that was honking?) JANE: (Where is the cape and the codpiece, and the...) JANE: (The...) JANE: (Oh, fiddlesticks.)

What?  Is she reading a childrens’ book?  --Oh.  She’s eulogizing Gamzee.  So that gives us a third option, where the rebellion crashes the funeral somehow, probably audiovisually rather than in person.  (Which would make sense, given Candy practically began with Gamzee crashing Dirk’s funeral.)

> (==>)

Ah never mind, she’s still writing it.

That sure is a single button drama-remote that’s going to be pressed at some point.  Oh, and who the fuck keeps a spork in a pen cup???  --No no, don’t say it’s one of those pens with a spork at the eraser end, either ready-made or rubber-banded to the side.  That would make sense.  You totally know it isn’t that and is just a spork.

JANE: (Okay, poetry is out.) JANE: (What else?) JANE: (Hrm...) JANE: (I've always been pretty good at crying on cue.) JANE: (Could I try staging an emotional breakdown?) JANE: (That could work; playing to people's humanity.)

Why were you crying in Jake’s arms about his death if you didn’t care that much?  Did you just want him to hold you and kinda make him feel in on things again?  Or did you just cry yourself out about him?

JANE: (Or whatever is the more inclusive term.)

I bet the rest of Earth C figured out a more inclusive term millenia ago FUCK I accidentally added millennia to my dictionary misspelled instead of correcting it hold on--

...There, killed the entry for it.  ...Huh.  Take a look at my Chrome dictionary’s custom-added words over the years, apparently:

Caliborn Eridan Kanaya Matriorb Meenah Tavros alchemiter dichotomic nephilim reblogged uncaptchalogues uncaptchaloguing

That’s fun.

Okay back to reading. Millennia.  Phew!  Where was I.

JANE: (One really good and calculated weep could do it, I think.) JANE: (But then there's the danger that I might get carried away and do it for real.) JANE: (And I can't risk that.)

So still feeling something, just too used to calculating over the past years.

JANE: (What can I say about him that will stir up their emotions?) JANE: (Do I mention the stuff about the milk?) JANE: (Think Crocker, think.)

WHY would you-- how much did Gamzee normalize adult breastfeeding?!

JAKE: Ahoy over there!

Not the best time.

(The thing with the divorce papers from the Epilogue and John implying he was planning with Jake to execute something that sounds like a divorce... is that going to be sprung here?  Did her lawyers send the divorce papers way back when she was in a fit of pique, and he just had them available to sign now at the tactical moment? Or... let me pull the exact text...)

JOHN: now, harry anderson, i know that you and tavros haven't always gotten along. JOHN: but i am going to have to ask you to try and look out for him for the time being. JOHN: your uncle jake and i... well, i'll explain later. JOHN: let's just say that gamzee isn't the only family member jane is losing today.

(So is John going to submit the papers? Or did they already go through a while ago and default custody to John or something who’s going to adopt him too or some nonsense?  And did he plan this out with Jake NOW, or a while ago, and if only a while ago, is Jake going to KNOW whatever John’s about to pull in that respect is about to happen??)

> (==>)

Butte

Janepalme

> (==>)

JAKE: Er... how goes the eulogizing, dear?

Gah.  I completely forgot again that capitalized-first-letter chapter names don’t mean KANAYA is saying them.  That probably makes a lot more sense out of my wondering about the chapter title earlier to those of you who didn’t realize I was making that mistake.

JANE: It turns out that it's mighty difficult to find touching things to say about a person, the relationship with whom was predicated on deep-seated mutual loathing.

Hah!

--A loathing you regarded as largely more important to you than Jake ever was, by the way.  You asshole.

JANE: I imagine this is one of the reasons no funerary tradition was ever established on Alternia, besides the barbarism of their culture. DIRK: Jesus christ. JANE: Not only did a significant proportion of their interpersonality depend on romance in the form of hatred, but it was a society based on cruelty and violence. JANE: What reason could they have had to provide for the dead? JANE: What kind of last rites could they have even imagined?

I wondered for a moment why (bg!)Dirk of all people would react to a single line of her starting to bring up prejudices, but then I realized that (1) Brain Ghost Dirk is a little more Jakey, and (2) Dirk knew that more ranting would follow the first line.

JANE: I can't think of anything good to write about him because deep down, I hated his guts. JANE: But he was and is beloved of the multitude, so I have to think of something regardless. JAKE: Im not sure i understand. JANE: Don't worry your pretty little head about it. JANE: This is politics, Jakey. JANE: Lying through your two front teeth about people you hate is about as good a definition as it's possible to get. JANE: But, by gum, is it tiring work.

Mm.  It’s a position Jane put herself in, but it’s still a legitimate position once you’re there.

JANE: The funeral is tomorrow, after all.

Got it.

DIRK: Dude, the bowl. JAKE: Hm? JAKE: Oh, right. JANE: What is it now, Jake. JAKE: I brought something for our guest as well. JANE: You mean the prisoner. JAKE: Y...es.

Wait, bowl?

Oh god damnit which of you had the idea to feed her with a DOG BOWL.  Either of you could have thought of it, and either of you would be horrible for it.

> (==>)

Huh, that outfit on Yiffy looks familiar, like a reference to something.  And a black tail?  This definitely isn’t quite the look I was expecting from Jade Plus Rose, but I suppose the snazzy tie is a Roseish vibe.  Also reminiscent of Jade’s old Dead Shuffle dress.  Formal wear and soccer cleats??

JANE: She's over in the corner. JANE: Don't worry, she won't bite. JANE: I've seen to that already.

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN.  I don’t see anything over her mouth!  Did she stick something in it, or drug her?  File her fucking teeth???

I mean I did forget the Child Abuse trigger warning to be fair.  Hoping whatever would be on her mouth is just not shown in-panel yet for stylistic reasons.

> (==>)

JAKE: Its only mac and cheese, sorry. JAKE: Its all I know how to make, haha. JAKE: ... JAKE: I um... hope you can safely partake of cheese? JAKE: ... JAKE: Well, JAKE: Bon appetit.

How the fuck did Jake eat on his island then?  --Oh right, preserved food cans that Grandma Jade stored up, I think I remember.  Why would cheese not be a thing for them, if it’s fine for Jade?  I know he’s probably not just worried about lactose intolerance.

Either way, if she’s drugged here, that’ll mean we won’t get a good idea of her for a while, so which is it...

> (==>)

DIRK: Bon appetit. DIRK: Seriously dude? JAKE: (What? Did i pronounce it wrong?) DIRK: Jake. DIRK: You put the food in a fucking dog bowl. JAKE: (It was all there was, ok???) JAKE: (I feel awful enough as it is without you getting on my case about it.)

Ah, missed the bone pun.  AND, yeah, Jake, you’re a fucking idiot, you could have put it in a cup or something.

JAKE: (So far ive yet to see anything come of that brilliant plan of yours.) JAKE: (Are you sure sending that message to the others was enough?)

Okay, so he IS coordinating this slightly.

> (==>)

Horrifying image to contemplate, eh Jane?

Or anger-inducing?

> (==>)

Seems about right!

> (==>)

Oh that’s a GREAT exasperated Jane face.

JANE: I hope you're not expecting dessert, young lady.

I like how Jane didn’t notice, comment on, or care about the bowl.  How can you hate a kid so much??

> (==>)

Oh I know why I felt like I recognized the outfit style, it’s because it’s ANIME AS FUCK.  Feels like some Persona 4 Arena nonsense, and I say that not having played any of those games or even remembering what they looked like.  Also, white hair, black fur’d dog parts?  Nice change of pace.

YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR... JANE: Oh no you don't.

Red text?  What color exactly... “#D00009”?  Huh.  That’s nowhere near Alt-Callie’s #FF0000, and darker than Dave’s #E00707.  In fact, let me go back and check those spilled color pins the commentary pointed out from an update or two ago...  no, the red pin is #E63225, closer to Dave’s color.  (Also, is Yiffy blocking the doorway out?  That’s a pretty slack chain then.)

Did Jane see to it that she wouldn’t bite with like, a water spray bottle?

(EDIT: Oh my FUCKING GOD, THAT's why it's #D00009...)

> (==>)

FUCK I didn’t notice the shock collar in the Yiffy image!  FUCK YOU, Jane.

> (==>)

Keeping someone in line with collars, especially ones that punish whenever one strays out of line, has always been a decent way for her to mix in some Doomy control of others to show how she’s “grown” to balance her main role and her Tiara-controlled-like inverse for more power.  Doom in part represents boundaries that you can’t cross without getting hurt or punished.

> (==>)

FUCK, those little buck teeth!?  D’:

JANE: That's more like it.

She HAS to have more of a reason for hating her than hating her parents, right?  Like, more than that and general racism applying to partdogfolk?

> (==>)

Hey fuck off with that!

> (==>)

This is a pretty cool ima-- are those piercings on her dog ear?  I didn’t notice that in the first shot, neat.

JANE: You've been a thorn in my side ever since I agreed to enroll you at the academy, little madam. JANE: Back then, I was doing a favor for two old friends who made a disgusting mistake. JANE: I'm no longer going to play nice with you just because of your parents, however. JANE: That truce is over. JANE: Do I make myself understood?

What the fuck?  WHY would you do that?  Why does Jane run "Ms. Paint’s Home for Inconvenient Girls”?  What did Yiffy do to piss her off so much there, how much trouble could she have caused?

I don’t know if she’s referring to the behind-Kanaya’s-back part as disgusting or she’s just being MORE racist.

> (==>)

JANE: We don't want you passing out during the ceremony, do we?

Oh, just showing the hostage off during the clown funeral, huh?  Classy much?

> (==>)

JANE: Now, be a good hostage and get some rest, Yiffany dear. JANE: We've got a big day tomorrow.

For a politician, Jane’s not good at looking at herself in a mirror.

> (==>)

JANE: Night night. JANE: Hoo hoo.

> (Yiffy: Lights out.)

Huh, dream stuff is gonna be relevant out in Candy then? *click*

Okay, dark background all of a sudden.  Properly dramatic?  You even have to highlight the non-link “>” part of the Next link to see it.

> (==>)

-- thespiansGlamor [TG] began pestering adamantGriftress [AG] --

Well, I don’t know WHY it’s happening, but the white-backed pesterlog suddenly on the dark site framing is certainly evocative.  Of like, a mood, or something.

TG: i thought he was pretty quiet down there. TG: we'll make a rebel of him yet! AG: Lol. AG: I think it's more that he can't sleep. AG: I know how he feels. TG: yeah. TG: today was a lot. AG: ... TG: do you wanna talk about it? AG: Ugh, not you as well.

It’s really jarring to transition between Homestuck’s “kids jarringly mentally resistant to freaking out about the end of the world” to HS^2′s more realistic “kids traumatized by their first firefight even though it was an overwhelming victory-escape”.

TG: but seriously, do you? AG: Not really. TG: not even about... you know? TG: her? AG: No. TG: ... are you sure? AG: A8solutely. AG: What are you, my moirail? AG: Just leave it, Harry. TG: ok.

Are they about to have an “I wonder what Yiffy’s like” talk?

> (==>)

Very similar Tav/Vrissy convo to the previous one.

GG: I havent ever shared a bedroom before,,, GG: Not even for a slumber party,,, AG: Tavvy, you are just a8out the saddest person I've ever met.

Well, we have an even better idea how horrible Jane can be with kids, now.  From Nanna to THIS is quite jarring.  I wonder how the double Nannasprites that must still be around here somewhere feel?

> (==>)

TG: nothing about my dad is cute. TG: what are you even saying. AG: Lmao. TG: seriously! TG: i think he has something against that word, even. he gets super weird about it. AG: He's a strange and funny m8n. TG: yeah. TG: ... TG: i think something bad must have happened.

...um.  What?  Why would John have some sort of trauma about the word cute or being called it?

Did John dress up as a hint of his buried June ambitions as a kid and Dad lavish him with “SO CUTE” praise in an epic supportiveness backfire that caused him to shelve the idea of wearing non-masc clothes and being happier on the flipside of gender ever again???  Because if that’s how June gets canonized as promised, it’s a little harsher than the back of my mind was hoping.  I guess it kind of had to be though from the premise of how it was read into his childhood for the original idea, though.  Fuck, I hope this Cute business is about something different from that (like a Terezi reference or such) just to get less John Sads.  (But still June.  Definitely still want to get June.)

> (==>)

Oh, and now Vrissy is doing nothing but talking about what she said she didn’t want to talk about, of course.  (Also I like how JANE’s now being called the Batterwitch.)

AG: And the worst part was they didn't even fight a8out it! AG: That made me madder than 8nything else. AG: It felt like I was the only person who even W8S mad! GG: I dont think thats true,,, AG: What would you know a8out it?! GG: Maybe nothing,,, GG: Sorry,,, GG: Its just,,, GG: To me,,, all the way through the conversation,,, aunt kanaya looked even angrier than you,,, AG: ... AG: Adults are so fucking weird.

Guh, I don’t want to be reminded how hurt a good chunk of the fanbase is by Kanaya getting hurt this badly.

Original Tavros was always SLIGHTLY perceptive of others sometimes, but maybe perceptiveness is being hinted at as a Tavros specialty?  We still don’t know his classpect/hero-title or have any firm guesses based on purely him evidence.  (Also, frightened kids of abusive households tend to learn to get perceptive pretty fucking quickly I hear.)

> (==>)

TG: dad was sitting in the cafeteria with aunt jade and your moms. TG: it looked like they were discussing something important... they were whispering and stuff.

[etc etc] Alright, the what-happened-to-Dave bit.  And I imagine they’re kind of helping John grieve there, since Rose and Jade have talked that out already.

TG: aunt kanaya's was the only face i could see. TG: she was standing next to them, but she wasn't looking at what was going on. TG: almost like she couldn't bear to. AG: I doubt it. Kanaya's got a8out as much Emotivity as a very reclusive stone. TG: ok, i think that is bullshit but whatever. TG: she saw me standing there, but didn't say anything. she just shook her head slightly, and pointed back out into the hallway i came down.

Yep, giving them some space to grieve.  Also-- gosh, shouldn’t Vrissy have the same emotive senses that Aranea implied Vriska shared with her?  Kanaya isn’t that EXPRESSIVE but she’s certainly full of emotion.  Also, I hope part of her not bearing to watch wasn’t lingering anger toward Jade and Rose mixing with that, but there probably was a bit of that too, though Dave being gone is so much harsher than that. --I just realized they might not have broken the news to Karkat yet, either.

AG: I guesadxcxzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz TG: vrissy?

Put to sleep by someone slumping down on your phone keypad, or surprised by something about the other conversation?

Oh shit, “other conversation” reminded me I didn’t look at Tavros’s chumhandle:

glutinousGymnast [GG]

HHHHHhhhhuh.  Hm... huh? hhhh.  huh?  what, but.  Why would.  ?????

I really don’t understand what that chumhandle or any of its entendres should signify in this context.

Also, this means for our new four kids we have TG, GG, AG, and ??.

> (==>)

GG: I think she might have succumbed to sleep quite suddenly,,, GG: It would explain the,,,,,, interesting messages I've been getting for a while,,, TG: hehe. TG: i guess that tracks. TG: she does that from time to time.

That’s... strange.  Homestuck’s taught us to be suspicious of that.

TG: ... TG: tav? GG: Yes,,, harry anderson,,,? TG: what does it feel like to know someone who's died?

Who is Harry referring to? (EDIT: Yes I know Gamzee for Tavros, but I meant Harry talks like he's worried he'll have to feel that way soon?)  Is he just kind of inferring that something bad might have happened to Uncle Dave?  Got that perceptive “parents are about to tell me about a death in the family” vibe?  Or did he overhear more than he let on to Vrissy?

...alright, that’s the last page of this update.  Looks like this chapter is going to continue to have a good bunch of grieving, or talk around it.

---

Now for Bonus Commentary for A Threat, Sensed.  For some reason I have a dim memory of like... reading this myself without commenting on it?  Or skimming it?  But I’m pretty sure I didn’t do that.  Weird.  Must have imagined doing it.

Ah, I think I saw the opening paragraph scrolling Patreon, and my mind kinda filled in the blanks, this is still looking new to me.

Okay, mostly banter and japes in the commentary here.  About Dirk “throwing a huge tantrum in his philosophy cave”.

We’ve had quite a bit of speculation on whether this is “really” Andrew. To that, I think we’d say that it doesn’t “really” matter.

Really?  That was speculated about?  :/

Here we discover that Dirk has not, as some people have speculated, been directly intervening into the Candy timeline, or influencing it in any way. In fact, he has a very hard time seeing anything going on there at all.

Mhmm, and that was a pretty important thing to learn.

A couple of years ago I might have agreed with the take that everything happening in Candy is simply too outlandish to ever happen naturally, without direct, villainous interference, but that was before literally every fucking batshit insane thing that has happened on Real Life Earth started going down, and now I will believe literally anything. 

This is a nice bit of distraction from the idea that at least the opening parts of the Candy story were written/narrated by Original, Alive Calliope over on meat side.  To refresh your memory of what was pointed out to me:

ROXY: back when jade first got all effed up callie saw somethin and it made them freak out ROXY: it took me weeks to convince them that it was safe to come home ROXY: but now we got the opposite problem and they arent leavin the house at all ROXY: they stay home all day with the blinds drawn paintin some weird ass shit on the walls TEREZI: WH4T? ROXY: its not as bad as it sounds i promise ROXY: some of it is like ROXY: weird and violent?? ROXY: like lotsa nasty purple blood and um ROXY: nudity???? TEREZI: >:? ROXY: yeah yikes ROXY: but MOST of it is cute stuff like... various combos of all of us being happy and gettin married and shit ROXY: anyway thats kept callie kinda busy

Which tracks with the initial out-of-character-seemingness of almost everyone at the start of Candy, and how they kind of tried to railroad things back onto the “Happy??” track after Dirk derailed it with his weird self-accumulation suicide, along with some of the flowery-idyllic descriptions of characters seeing each other bathed in a halo of light and such.

Of course, they’re not going to out-and-out STATE that Calliope was at fault for that narration, helping the Candy story not necessarily fall out the way it did “naturally”, until we finally get a glimpse of her on the heroes’ ship in Meat probably still painting the continuing Candy events, inspiring them into the void of the singularity with her latent powers.  Til then, it’s a bit of misdirection whenever the topic is to be brought up.  Along with a mix of Roxy’s late-Candy point to John of more or less “why COULDN’T we have done this naturally? you don’t know”.

He might even think that he has more direct power over the narrative than Hussie does himself. Surprise, motherfucker, you are a fictional character. 

:p

I’ll quote this next part in full:

There’s been talk of whether or not this bonus was written in the two days between its release and the Yiffy reveal chapter. The answer is--no. It was written over a month ago. But I think the things it addresses were not difficult to suss out. Obviously, Dirk is highlighting the issues that the readership are having with Yiffy, in his typical Dirk fashion. If it seems a little defensive, well...I suppose it is. Yiffy is one of the two hard lines drawn in the sand, and all of us love her, and we’re hoping that everyone else will love her too. But more than that, it focuses on the fact that update culture has a rhythm to it--shock, revulsion, acceptance (or not), and then excitement (or not). Will it follow that pattern this time? Who knows. I guess we’ll find out. 

Yeah, given what was going to be dropped on us I expected they would have had exactly this lined up, especially because Andrew specifically mandated Yiffy.  --I wonder why they aren’t mentioning that somewhere in the commentary and only on one of their Twitters?

Also quoting this:

There’s something both incredibly “cringe” and self-indulgent, as well as philosophically intriguing, about the author arguing with his villain, especially since he’s writing both halves of the conversation himself. You are, for all intents and purposes, trying to solve a problem that you have created for yourself. You are looking an aspect of your personality in the eye and asking, hey, what the fuck, man?

But in the end, isn’t that what every story is? Trying to untie knots that you put in the rope yourself?

Since it’s part of the central struggle of this story, and kind of the question Andrew’s tried to imply with every Homestuck work about what right we have to keep these characters trapped in a story, and if they’d be better off escaping it.

I’m really trying to avoid quoting so much of this, since the commentary is paid...  but I think we can make an exception here?  I’ll have only quoted about half of it; just, the really plot-important half.  Plus, I left out a LOOOT of japes.

Dirk has a certain idea of how stories are supposed to go. That’s pretty much what the Epilogues is about. The audience also has a certain expectation of how a story is supposed to go. In a way, the Epilogues were also about that. They were taking a story that had reached the traditionally “acceptable” happily ever after, and saying, wait, no. What happens next? Thinking past happily ever after in any story is a terrifying prospect. Once Cinderella marries the prince, what then? Sure, she got what she wanted, but who knows that it will be everything she dreamt it would? What if she changes her mind, if not today, what about ten years from now? What if the prince dies of malaria? 

And I’m...

Yeah I don’t have anything else to add here, I’m kind of out of brain juice to think about this tonight.  BUSY day I had.  Y’all take care!

[tillmays]

Is just her. II

Riley was on her element, she liked to play, and she knew he liked it too.

so tell me mr.groom, why are you the way you are?

James-  well is not that easy to tell.

Riley- you know, is so easy to talk to stranger.

james- is it?

Riley- fine let's make it a little loosely. she she reclines on the sofa, spreading her long legs making the dress fall between them, putting an arm behind the backrest, the lights in the room were off there were only two lamps on, and she was illuminated by the light that came through the large window. - i will ask you something and you will answer exactly how you're feeling i will go first, bored or.. she made a pause and she did a little flicker and raised her eyebrow, make a grimace with her lip and said very slowly - eager?

James- he shrugged his eyes and just saw her. his eyes speak with a desire for her, you know that when a man sees you that way it means that there is only one thought in his mind only the idea of not being able to touch you kills him inside, he said in a very deep and penetrating voice -eager.

Riley- what's wrong Mr.groom you wanna dick me down? *in this hot way he smiled and laughed softly*

James- haha you're very funny, i like that, but you know that i can't.. if i had met you 3 hours ago when i wasn't married, you wouldn't be sitting on that sofa

I'm not going to lie, that made her feel excited, and she was intrigued to see what could happen but as I said she likes to play. Riley- you know, some of your friends call you the christian grey.. and you forgot to ask, it your turn. *she said sarcastic making a little joke referring of what Bozer said earlier obviously he didn't know but it didn't matter*  

James- what.. ahaha i didn't know you knew my friends... and no i didn't forget, was thinking for the right question to ask.. with company or lonely.

Riley- lonely. sad or tired? he stared, didn't said nothing for a minute looking at her straight in the eyes, james felt those words really heavy he knew somehow that she felt the same way.

james was with his hand holding his jaw and his fingers over his lips said -you know is both. he sighted- you know i feel i can trust you but at the same time i know you don't care but at the same time you do so.. i this point i don't really care what happens to that man.*he started to tell her about his dad, his work, everything he even told her the name of the person who was going to buy the uranium and what was the business of this person* Riley mumbled very quietly and said- Mac listen. Mac answered. Mac-  yeah i heard it all of it, bozer we are ready. Bozer was in the bathroom with the laptop of Riley working on helping mac. desi was waiting for Mr.Oliver to make a move.

James- well it's your turn to tell me something now. what about you, why are you the way you are?

Riley could breath now, cause the team knew what to do now, after hearing what james just confessed about these mens she just needed to keep him distracted so he wouldn't suspect about her. 

Riley- oh come on dude, accept the mystery.

James- no no is your turn. what are you broken?

Riley wanted to tease him a little more, she lay down on the sofa and slid a little accommodating her body in a tempting way, she was looking at the ceiling and at the night sky thru the window.

James- girl.. you are deadly.. *She smiled*

Riley- i’m the whole package baby: chaotic, neurotic, erotic

Riley- i was very young and all alone. *riley looked at him and told him some thing about her not the undercover girl, she didn't lie she felt like she didn't have to, that night the two of them opened to a complete stranger and they created their own safe space. he walked to her way, he sat next to her, Riley got up and put her head on his legs, He played with her hair, they kept that energy for 5 minutes. they stayed in silence because sometimes it feels better not to talk. at all. 

Riley finally said something, started thinking out loud. - “I wonder what’s wrong with me. Sometimes I just keep wanting to go deeper and deeper into the world of self-destruction. As if I want to see myself fail completely and disappear.” 

they looked at eachother, James couldn't take it anymore, he asked.-can i kiss you? Riley just nodded. he grabbed her face and kissed her very slowly. that was a very hot kiss. the only thought of Riley was “maybe i teased him a little too much” Riley said to him- we have to be careful, we can't fall in love. Riley was hearing everything that was going on with the team they got the uranium got the buyer but Oliver was still trying to escape. james heard gunshots. and told Riley to stay there. he went outside and saw everybody running in every direction, he saw his dad with a gun and all of his bodyguards with him, he confronted him told him everything, the way he was feeling, and it was time for him to give himself up. 

Mac and Riley

Riley got out the room after james left, she took a a shortcut to get there before him and without him seeing her, she saw Mac and when runnin to him and grabbed her laptop. Riley and Mac when running to the along the side of the castle on a path that led to the large flower-filled garden.

Mac- Riley go to the back and get inside and grab the package,

Riley- okay, i already sent the whole information to matty.

Mac- uh that was fast. *they were standing under the frame of that entrance to the garden. - hey be careful when you get inside, and don’t lose the package, or matty will kill us.. *mac was making the smoke bomb with the thinks he found there* well gotta go.*he went running*

Riley- mac.. * he turned around and went back to her* yeah it’s something wrong? *Mac looked concerned and his eyes started to shine a little from the party lights that were outside, Riley just got lost in them and hold onto the words she was thinking of saying to him, put decided it was better not to.

Riley- nothing, just be safe.. *she gave him a little sad smile*

Mac- yeah don’t worry.. we got this.

Mac and Desi were there, Mac dropped a bomb of smoke to make the bodyguards move Desi and Mac beat them down and there was just Oliver and his son James.. it was the end in their relationship. 

james- you know i'm going to leave Chloe, since it was just for your business and that doesn't matter anymore. you can take him now. *Desi put the handcuffs on him* james went running back to the bedroom but riley wasn't there anymore he looked outside and there she was sitting on the steps of the backyard. 

James- hey.. 

Riley looked back and kept smoking her cigarette, she took the bottle of whisky and to glasses. James sat at her side, she served the two shots of whiskey

James- So what’s next?

Riley-  You heal. You grow. And you help others.

James- you know the whole night you have been a  tormenting vision. 

Riley sipped her drink. -you didn't disappoint me either.

James- hahaaha and there is she. i love how you are flirting with a tiny halo on. 

back with the guys.

Mac- hey boz, it's time to go you’re ready? where's Riley?

Bozer- she's talking with james, the groom, i think someone ended winning today hu?

Mac just looked J- E -A -L-O-U-S  but obviously he kept telling himself that he didn't understand that feeling, he looked at them thru the door that was open.      - yeah i guess... *mac putted back his communicator to see if he could hear them, Riley had not taken off hers. mac was listening.

Riley saw that the boys were ready to go. 

Bozer yelled, -Riley! we are ready when you're ready!

James- so that's your name.. Riley..

Riley- don't wear it out. 

James- well i see you have to go. i'm gonna miss our conversations, your a wonderful woman. 

Riley- me too. i hope you find the happiness you've been pretending to have.

they said cheers to that and was the last drink.

James- i hope we can meet again.

Riley- meet me in my dreams tonight and stay there for a while.

they gave a last kiss. you know what kind of kiss those that are late at night slow hot and spicy and teasing, mac saw them he just turned around when to wait for her at the car. 

  the jet talks, on their way home.

Desi- Riley i gotta said i'm surprised, you literally stole the groom! 

Bozer laughed, - hahaha girl she got you there.

Riley- oh come on, i know yall were listening, and it was more than obvious that he was going to divorce that girl, he texted me and told me that they already are going to be filing the divorce papers. they were married like 4 hours at a fake wedding. They never really got married was all done by his father he wanted to use them to make more money..

Bozer- wait you have his number?

Riley- and? what about it? 

Mac was just listening. he didn't understand why he was feeling that way. Mac changed the subject and said,- well i'm glad we could stop oliver and the whole clan of the guy who was going to buy it, thanks to Riley for making james speak to us about it. 

Riley- what can i say i have my ways. 

Bozer- im gonna miss this, i gotta say its gonna be weird when your gone. 

Riley- dont think about it now, relax, that this is loong flight way home.

Rileys head.

Riley was still thinking of that moment between mac and her. she didn’t know what to do with her thoughts, they were loud way to loud to be about him, not Mac, hes a friend just a good friend from work… i mean we were pretending, if we hadn’t done that we could have been caught, but we could have thought of something different but maybe it was just the moment, did i like it? or is just my fucking mind making tricks on me..? but it was dreamy.. Did i love a dream? maybe i’m just tired. *she put her headphones and reclined to be more comfortable, when i message popped up it was james, she smiled* ahh finally something i can distracted myself on. *Mac saw her smile like that and here was that weird feeling again, he was wondering what or who could make her smile like that.

     ....................................................................

if you catched the quote of  “Daul Kim, from I Like to Fork Myself “  

Photo  of the sky by KizanokZ .

oh and for the ones that were wondering and asking me for the hairstyle that i wrote for Riley it was this one. 

[zontiky]

Okay but au where they're not all related and five is a mysterious orphan Diego keeps running into at odd hours of the night and then him just being like "fuck it he's like 13 he can't be out alone at night" and then just takes him home like a godamn stray and five is THRIVING under the positive attention he never had I beg of you please feed my soul. Also sorry if this doesn't make sense I've had 2 hours of sleep and like 8 coffees today

i think i’ve read a fic similar to this but FUCK YEAH let’s do this (sorry im so late btw i havent been feeling bullet points lately fksjdfks) ALSO HEY OP PLEASE DON’T DIE I HOPE YOU’RE OK??? 

so diego is still a cop and he’s patrolling or doing whatever it is that cops do, and then he sees a kid sitting in an alley

obviously he pulls over like “hey kid you okay?” and the kid is like “shut up go away bootlicker” and diego is instantly “okay then come on im taking you to get food”

the kid doesn’t want to go but at the same time diego can tell he knows that there’s really no better options. this child looks hungry

so the kid and diego go to griddy’s and the kid says his name is five when asked

“that’s not a name”

“is too”

diego+fam have a long history of trauma and reginald called them by number which was their birth order or something? idk OH SHIT WAIT YOU SAID NOT ALL RELATED OK OK COOL SO

luther is a mechanic who diego knows because he’s the dude who’s often the one repairing his car, they’re on pretty good terms and go out for coffee sometimes because luther hates alcohol and diego’s body is a temple so he doesn’t drink

diego is diego he’s a cop but he’s highkey broke and i really don’t know how much cops get paid? hm

ok google says from 34.6k - 89.4k a year and numbers mean nothing to me so lets say he’s just a gremlin who lives in a boiler room because it’s efficient

OR he’s still dating eudora and lives with her

you know what that’s probably the better option i’m gonna go with that. they don’t have as much childhood trauma even though none of the “siblings” come from exactly good homes? but none of them were raised by reggie mcfuckface so it’s less like,,, bad even though they’re all fucked up

WAIT DO THEY HAVE THEIR POWERS

HELL YEAH THEY HAVE THEIR POWERS

ok ok so luther is a mechanic who uses his super strength and endurance to just fucking carry cars around his garage and i know NOTHING about mechanics as a profession but but but luther is good at what he does

diego is a cop who lives with eudora and throws knives like a boss. he also throws tennis balls really hard because stabbing people on duty isn’t advised

you know what? i’m gonna say allison ISNT a movie star, shes a smaller actress with minor roles here and there because she’s a mom and spends time with claire. she doesn’t use her rumor as much because honestly she doesn’t see a reason to? like sometimes she’ll go “i heard a rumor you gave me a free shot of coffee” and like,,, that’s it shfskd

her and patrick are still divorced but that’s because they did it the healthy way. they knew they were drifting apart but instead of rumoring him they broke it off mutually and they still meet up for coffee. they’re friends ok. claire loves her parents

klaus! klaus has problems but because im a soft bitch dave is here in 2019. he’s… also a mechanic…. they all know eachother but dave knows luther and diego pretty well. luther via work and diego via luther

yes klaus! so klaus has a history of drugs and addiction, because while he wasn’t shoved into a mausoleum ghosts screaming at you all the fucking time doesn’t help with staying sober

but because he has a support network he can fall back on he’s doing well, he’s a barista in a coffee shop that allison and patrick & diego and luther frequent

shoutout to klaus

five is an orphan he’s 13 and small and kind of a genius? fuck what if as a kid five accidentally time-traveled to 2019 and thaT’S HOW HE BECAME AN ORPHAN 

galaxy brain

so five is this kid in the wrong time living on the streets not knowing how things work

i mean he does obviously because he catches on quick and he’s smart but really he doesn’t know how some shit works ok. he’s clueless when it comes to technology and pop culture and shit

ben!! ben is alive!! he’s a part time writer and a full time librarian!! he knows klaus because during his homeless days klaus stuck around the library because free bathrooms and also reading to take his mind off the ghosts. they become really close and ben gets klaus to move in with him and then he’s trying to get sober and then ben’s car crashes and that’s how they meet luther and dave OHHHH

additionally: klaus illustrates some of ben’s books because he knows how to draw yay

vanya! she’s first chair in the orchestra and she’s dating helen cho because i say so

so vanya kicks ass at violin, she’s being gay teaching lessons all that good shit what more is there to say

harold isn’t here because there was never an umbrella academy

hmmm back to the,,, actual plot,,, im sorry sksfhdjsk

SO DIEGO FINDS FIVE RIGHT

AND HE’S LIKE “oh no this child is awakening my paternal instincts oh no i have to take him home with me now”

eudora opening the door to see her husband boyfriend with an angry looking teenager at his side: dear god what did you do this time

eudora instantly bonds with five and i mean INSTANTLY like she lays eyes on him and goes “child?? small?? looks lonely?? must protect” and five looks at her like “badass looking lady she probably knows what shes doing might as well ask for info and stuff” but hes actually thinking “oh dang she looks like she knows what she’s doing RESPECT” and yeah ksdjhsdkf

then five expects them to be mean or just get tired of him and kick him out but?? they dont??? wack

diego is instantly like “kid where do you live”

‘um’

“you live somewhere right???”

‘UM’

they find out he’s legally dead and thats another can of worms entirely

so they register and foster five

diego and eudora are registered foster parents you cannot change my mind alright

then five is introduced to luther and dave, and also ben and klaus because theyre hanging around the shop bc it’s their off day

so five instantly has 4 more people giving him instant love and validation and he’s like “woah”

THEN ALLISON AND PATRICK

claire too,, claire immediately adopts five as her older brother

this entire time five is like “i can’t stay im gonna leave soon you all know this right” and eveybody is “yep ok sure” but they all know hes gonna stay

hhHHHH GAME NIGHTS

five beats everybody at scrabble

diego beats everybody at darts, even though everybody calls him out for cheating

vanya beats everybody at musical chairs. she levitates the chairs so nobody can sit down

luther beats everybody at outdoor games. do not play tag with this man you might not make it out alive

allison is the QUEEN of blurt! 

ben is so good at charades it’s unfair

klaus honestly sucks at board games, but he always wins uno and nobody knows how (its the ghosts skfhsdkf)

five is so confused because its obvious all of them are cheating but??? nobody cares?? what

“it’s because it’s fun nobody is actually upset”

whaaaaaaat

so they have to explain to him that they dont play to win they play to have fun and its just a fun thing they do to spend time together and bond

five: mind blown

THEY TAKE HIM TO AN AQUARIUM

BEN JUST CHILLS WITH THE OCTOPI THE ENTIRE TIME

FIVE BONDS WITH CRABS

THEY ALL LOVE SEALS

five gets exposed to modern culture!! klaus and ben teach him memes is what i’m saying 

five goes to school!!! he makes friends!!!! they have nice sleepovers and diego and eudora make them cookies :’)

i want to say. okay so.

reginald exists and he had made grace eariler as preparation for the children he was going to adopt, but he died before he could buy any babies

so grace exists! and!! she knows the “siblings”!!!

so five has a grandma because im not going to lie grace is basically all of their’s mom

she lives in the mansion but she can go outside and DO THINGS and she makes them COOKIES and she LOVES HER KIDS and GRANDKIDS and five ADORES her ok

basically five is happy with his pseudo family that’s it thank you for your time

wait no actually he figures out how to time travel safely and he does go back and forth

sometimes he pops in and he’s like “hey we ran out of milk” and then a second later he’s like “for the love of god wait until tomorrow to get milk dont ask why you dont wanna know” and its obvious that he came back from the future and HHHHHH YES

the commission can’t do shit because found family love is simply too strong

hazel and agnes are the nice couple who run griddys and birdwatch

five is fond of them too honestly like he just loves going to griddys because it has so many happy memories for him and its where he met diego (sorta) and also yay hazel and agnes!!

SO YEAH BASICALLY: FIVE IS HAPPY AND THIS AU IS GOD TIER THANK YOU

THIS IS A GOOD ONE I LIKE THIS AU THANK YOU

[holywankenobi]

SW fandom rant

To be honest, I don't really know how or where can I start talking about this. If you aren't interested in any of the Star Wars drama that is going on then skip this post, cause its gonna be long... these goes for the SW fans we are concerned about the whole situation itself. I barely have the strength to do this and exposing my opinion about certain things makes me uncomfortable but it's been a long while since I'm keeping things to myself. There's much information I have to process so please be patient with me since I barely know how to express my emotions in the right way (that's why I'm holding myself back a lot here: it will seem I'm calm... but I'm not. I'm angry and tired at the same time).

DISNEY CANON

We all know where it all started. The Force Awakens premiere in 2015. We will start from there.

As ANY star wars movie, there will be people who liked it, people who loved it and people who hated it. And there is where some fans clash with the others. Fans who enjoy practically every movie or SW related things and those fans who demonize every movie (specially the ones from the new Disney canon) and the only thing that matters for them are the episodes IV, V, VI and the Legends canon (some of them also defend the prequel episodes I, II and III, fact which I'll talk about it later). And they bash against everyone who likes the Disney sequels.

BOI IM SCARED OF TELLING PEOPLE THIS WAS MY FAVOURITE SAGA SO FAR. And I already had problems with Legends hardcore fans.

Let me tell this straightaway... Star Wars are movies for kids. They've always been. George Lucas said it. They seem to be thirsty for feeling again what they felt when they were kids whenever a SW movie comes out but they always exit the cinema with a feeling of extreme disappointment.

I was talking about the last movie with my co workers at the beginning of the year and they complaint it was "too Disney". And that's precisely what I'm trying to explain! It's ok whether you like the sequels or not like them. Everyone has his own taste. I just find funny complaining for a whole saga originally made for kids for being "too Disney". I dont know if you get my point here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uEsOqEpNF0k&list=PL8SlwcJuVWR2FNtL-6Wo5QUP6LMjpNJUA

LEGENDS CANON

Then there's those who hated the prequels, that said there was nothing worse than the phantom menace, those who hated on George Lucas for doing such a crap, but now praise the prequels because Disney is satan for them and they want the old canon back. George Lucas ended up selling SW to Disney because, he ain't no fool, he knows this fanbase is one of the most toxic and ungrateful that has ever existed. And he saw it with the prequels feedback... Then they now have the guts to demand him to continue the old canon? Smells like hypocrite-crying fanboys to me.

My whole point is....It's ok if you are a new/Disney sequels fan, it's ok if you are a prequels fan, it's ok if you are a SW original movies fan, Legends canon fan, OG fan, casual fan, hardcore fan... as always you understand that not everyone will agree with your point of view, not everyone will like or think the same way as you do, or live SW the same way as you do. There's a difference between respecting and agreeing with, concepts which sometimes get mixed and taken as the same thing, which is not. Respect other fans mean "I don't agree with you but I know how much this means for you, so I won't intentionally mock you" WHICH THING LEADS US TO THE NEXT TOPIC:

JOHN BOYEGA

*takes a deep breath*

Man. I dont know. He's a full grown up man and he's behaving like a 5 yo on his social media...... John is the actor who gives life to Finn (the ex stormtrooper). It all started with this sexist comment he responded to a fan in his IG. 

Then people (naturally) got offended, specially reylos. But instead of apologizing he kept on going, remarked what he said and also did a video to mock the reylo community.

You think I'm only defending a ship here but no. Its bigger than that. He has the right to feel left out in this saga because I agree with him IN THAT FACT. He is probably the actor which is more into the SW world, he was always a big fan (of the whole cast I mean). Thats why fans love him do much. And I did love him too. And he (naturally) wanted to have more spotlight on this saga ( I think Finn was one of the most wasted characters of these movies tbh) But instead of taking it the mature way he's having a tantrum on his IG because Finnrey did not become a real thing, he's trolling reylos and encouraging SW haters and antis to bully them whose are already having a hard time with TROS end (which I'll talk about later because I dont like their attitude about it either).

And it's not just raise the hate on shippers thing dude you could just apologize because you said something sexist and offended a lot of people who ship reylo and really means a thing for them. The whole thing that the greatest achievement a man can have with a woman is sex is just DISGUSTING. Rey kissed Ben but now he's gone Finn has the road clear and can fuck her? BRUH.

This is all so wrong and he was the one who started it.

ADAM DRIVER

I'm really relieved Adam does not have any social media because omg I would be suffering so much rn...

I honestly have never emotionally connected with an actor so much as I did with him. His whole acting is so good and I could really notice on this last movie. I'm starting to watch his other movies. And not just his acting, he's so professional off camera too.

I'm really happy and proud of him for his Oscar nomination, he really deserves it TT

But I'm worried this whole John Boyega thing affects him. Idk how I would feel if I were in his shoes, if my coworker was saying those things on social media and then smile at me like nothing is happening. But honestly what hurts me the most is he's having a worse time with "reylos".. I think the rumors of him having an affair with Daisy Ridley was what messed things up. I honestly dont know if its true, I've got some info but it's hard to believe. Because there are so many haters manipulating fake info that I dont trust anything and anyone anymore.

And this is where I talk about:

REYLOS AND DAIVERS

BOI OH BOI

This is gonna be hard....

First of all, I don't consider Daivers (Daisy x Adam shippers) as part of the reylo community. I'm sorry. But its fucking disgusting you going to demand Adam to divorce from his wife, abandon his son and then start dating Daisy because of this rumor or because you can't separate fiction from reality.... I read he even recieved death threats ARE WE NUTS??? They (Adam and Daisy) having a good chemistry working together doesn't mean they are in love, kids...

Driver has an awesome wife and a lovely son. Daisy is currently dating someone.

Infidelity is gross. No more. And I would be so disappointed at them if this turns out to be true. But seeing all what's happening around the actors and specially having all this haters out there... I'll say this was all false information.

Daiver is not real and won't be. So stick only to the fictional ship.....

About Reylo itself. I find REALLY funny how people who dont know shit about what this ship means say it's an abusive relationship. Bullshit. I wouldn't be shipping them if so.

Also the people still stating it's not real/canon hiding themselves behind the "Ben solo is dead lol" argument. Do you stop loving someone when they die?

Yes, they love each other. No, it wasn't always reciprocated love. They started being enemies in the force awakens, friends who understood and cared for each other through force dyad in the last jedi and ended up being lovers at the end of the rise of Skywalker. Rey wants to revenge her family (her falling to the dark side) but also wants Ben Solo back, and he wants to be the most powerful leader on the galaxy and still being kylo ren. But they eventually meet in the middle between light and dark and Leia finally reaches out to him to make him turn to the light.That's their fight. That's the angst. That's the tea. "No one is ever really gone" there's always hope. Star Wars is centered in HOPE. And their story represents it at its finest.

NOW. The reylo community.

Despite you liked it or not the end they gave to the saga... I think JJ Abrams doesn't deserve all the hate he's receiving... he probably did a lot of things wrong but seriously... just stop. Not only from reylos but the whole fandom.

Sending hate won't lead to anything now...

I enjoyed The rise of Skywalker. Indeed I spent half of the movie crying and I loved it.

You can cry as much as you want the loss of Ben (although I have hope for him still being alive in a way, there are plenty of theories) but that doesn't give you the right to death threat JJ. And I think I'll stop here cause I'm already tired.

Everyone has their own taste, preferences, favourite characters, ships, whatever. I pray for people stop judging others for their tastes, specially in this cursed fanbase. Sorry if I ever misbehaved trying to defend what I think or like. I just want this place to be supportive and safe for everyone and everything what's happening is not helping... We are all SW fans and that's our connection point. Dont discredit others for having another point of view...

I'll leave it here, but I'm open to debate or talk about anything I said in a respectful way.

[sharkmobster]

spider verse coffee shop au??

Anon im sorry i wanted to draw the coffeeshop au but ive been so tired lately so imma just overshare about what goes down bc this au is just (thick tombstone voice) : “everybody’s traumatized bitch lets get you a latte”

 • this au is incredibly villain centric bc uhhhhh all i do is think about villains

 • its also very aaron davis centric bc time to project my anxiety onto a grown ass man babey!!

 • anyway this takes place in a normal world where there’s no superheros or avengers or what have you, everyone’s super average 

• like i said this is more or less aaron centric and focuses on him readjusting to society and making connections with other people, and just healing in general. Aaron’s whole deal is that he was wrongfully arrested for defending himself against an off duty cop who was harassing him and ended up with a 10 year sentence  (but was let off a year earlier for good behaviour). He’s got a lot of guilt bc of this if only for the fact that he feels like he let down his brother and Miles (who was a small lad at the time).

 • Fun Fact! Jefferson was the one that picked up Aaron at the jail when he served out his sentence! The ride back to brooklyn was awkward! but also jefferson loves his brother and even tho they’ve had their falling outs he never once stopped believing that his brother was innocent. Jefferson also made sure to pull some strings and ended up getting an apartment set up for Aaron (even though jefferson and rio were 100% down to open their home to him for as long as it took him to get back onto his feet but of course aaron denied them bc he didnt want to be a burden) Aaron’s grateful but he tends to avoid his own family…a lot….

• it’s ridiculously hard to find a job bc nobody wants to hire an ex convict no matter the circumstances and Aaron’s legitimately about to lose hope when he spots an expensive looking shop nestled in between an old arcade and a knick knack shop

 • ‘Vanessa’s Cafe’ is neatly printed above the door in fancy gold lettering. it’s obvious that the owner has serious cash bc the shop looks too damn good and too well maintained to be a regular mom and pop shop. there’s a help wanted sign hastily scribbled on a piece of notebook paper in the middle of the window which is odd since it off sets the professional vibe of the place. But hey it’s worth a shot so Aaron walks in ready to be denied another job only to find the weirdest looking group of people he’s ever seen.

 • The first guy that catches his attention is the very large albino man who looks way too stressed out and manic to be working in a coffeeshop, but the job must pay well because he’s very well dressed.

 • “Liv, for fuck’s sake! Clean your goddamn station!” he’s whisper shouting? Is that even a thing? oh look at that he’s got a full set of razor sharp teeth. huh. that’s a hell of an aesthetic he’s going for.

 • The lady in question isn’t even giving him the time of day, just enthralled by her phone with a smile that looks too peaceful given what’s happening around her. She’s got wild hair tied up messily in a knitted bandana, weird glasses (custom made??) and when she glances up at aaron, her eyes widen in interest like he’s some anomaly to be cracked open. aaron looks anywhere that isnt the wild eyed lady at the counter.

• Theres another big guy that’s hanging around the back, heavily tattooed and lifting stacks of heavy boxes. Aaron takes notice of his prosthetic hand and the tattoo guy takes notice of Aaron. 

• “Lonnie. Customer.” The Tattoo guy seems nonplussed about Aaron and walks into the back. aaron assumes that he’s offended him by staring at his prosthetic for longer than necessary which yeah….yeah he’s probably not happy about the staring. 

 • lonnie’s got a bad case of resting bitch face so he’s glaring at aaron without actually glaring and he’s just rough around ALL the edges so his tones got that nice bite to it as he shouts from across the counter (which is not something you do to a customer but it’s lonnie…..)  "Hey! Ya looking for a job, skinny jeans?!“

 • Aaron blanches at the idea of working with these people but he is absolutely desperate for a job at this point.

 •"Yeah. I just got out of-”

 •"Great, you’re hired! We’re speed running this whole introduction thing, string bean.“

 •and that’s all i got other than like small details like:

 •Peter B Parker owns a ”“’'cafe”“” across from Vanessa’s and its literally just a burger joint that h a p p e n s to sell coffee and Parker will fight you if you call his place a deli ahdhdj

 •Liv and May are dating (big shock) and peter b has to constantly deal with seeing his competition over at his place all the time and it’s yikes

 • Tombstone and Noir will 100% throw hands on contact. They don’t hate each other tho??? Its weird they just like to fight. gives them a chance to work on their banter i guess. Noir works the coffee machine at Peter’s “'cafe”’ so i guess he’s the “”barista”” of the joint but he drinks the coffee more than the customers do

 • Miles and the rest of the spider kids “”“”“"intern”“”“” at the cafe which basically translates to free labor

 •  spider ham works there but he isnt a pig he’s just john mulaney. i know its weird. nobody actually sees him tho so he’s a complete mystery as to what he looks like so he could be john mulaney you never know. the only person who’s seen him is noir and that’s only bc they’re  a thing???

 •oh speaking of everyone being gay:  everyone’s gay

 • Lonnie and Gargan (tombstone and scorpion) are 100% dating but everyone legitimately thinks that the both of them are straight old men despite the fact that they live together, go to work together, hang out afterwards together, and they’re just always together

 • lonnie’s  daughter (janice)  visits every other week (def the product of a divorce he went through years ago) she’s alright with gargan but she’s very distant towards her dad and def has that teen angst phase that she’s going through

 • (lonnie can and will talk to you for hours about how much he loves and supports his daughter despite the fact that their relationship is very estranged)

 • you can find janice hanging out with the cute blond punk girl at that weird burger/coffee place across the street

 • oh gargan’s big and strong despite the fact that he’s missing three limbs, liv works in robotics on the side and constantly tweaks and repairs his prosthetics when they start acting up which leads to them having this weird friendship where they both borrow each other when they need something and dont really expect anything in return (like gargan’s good for getting her supplies and doing heavy lifting when she needs it and liv’s always down to run check ups on gargan)

 • oh yeah liv used to be a scientist but immediately lost her license and phd when she started going above some board members heads to buy less than legal things through super illegal sources

.• that’s another thing, kingpin tends to just hire ex cons and criminals to work in his cafe just bc he believes that a person willing to work hard to better themselves deserves a chance to re enter society again.

 • like they’ve all done bad things but still ended up with a job at the cafe. aaron fought a cop, liv did some shady deals for an illegal experiment, gargan used to run a drug ring years ago due to personal reasons but once he was free from jail he never dealt with the stuff again, and lonnie killed a dude (allegedly. he never went to jail bc they couldn’t prove anything but hey word spread around quick and everyone knew not to go anywhere near this guy)

 • kingpin is in this au btw he’s just……a very depressed man who’s still grieving over his wife and son dying in a car accident

.• he rarely shows up to run the cafe bc its too much for him being in the place that his wife loved and built up from the ground. he used to be the manager after she died but couldn’t handle it and mostly left lonnie to take care of it

• which holy fuck lonnie is trying his best to keep this cafe alive and well and there’s only two other people working there so like its enough to have him scrambling all over the place trying to find more help (thanks aaron)

 •miles doesn’t know aaron’s working at the cafe across the street and aaron def wants it that way bc even tho he’s out of jail he hasn’t actually……visited miles yet….. it’s the shame that’s keeping aaron from reaching out to him which is….sad bc miles doesn’t care what happened he just wants his uncle back.

 • oh oh one more thing RIPeter used to run the deli across the street but had to leave brooklyn to go volunteer at homeless shelters across the states indefinitely so theres no telling when he’ll be back, so he left the cafe under the guidance of pb parker (peter b parker voice: my cafe now)

 •and uhhh thats all i got, like i said this au is just found family trope + the healing we all want + bad people getting redemption which is all the tropes that i love all compacted together in the most cliche au you can imagine!

[cs-discourse]

hi mewlin! (and everyone else)

ya girl flower over here, ready to take apart and commentate on your submitted post. I would send a personal message but I realized there are things I want to tell this whole community as well. anyway im gonna get started.

DISCLAIMER: I'm not transphobic and I don't support transphobia. I'm going to put it out there before someone comes in and claims those things.

"I have slightly changed my views since the original post about me was made. Was it because of you guys? Absolutely not, don’t even try and think that you’re that special, because you’re not. [...] You don’t deserve anything for the shit you’re doing here."

Do I agree that educating calmly is better than being hostile? Yes. Do I think harassing and wishing death upon anyone is valid? No. This is the perfect example of why telling someone off shouldn't be paired with harass/death-wishing sentiments. Imagine yourself being attacked in a situation and being told to "die along with your beliefs", would you want to listen to the other party? No, right? I mean, why the fuck would you listen to someone who told you you were a stupid dumbass shit who deserved to die, right? Mewlin literally didn't listen to us because she thought we were hostile (although Mewlin, did you really read all the comments on Bailey's post? I know some were less aggressive than others but I doubt you read any/all of them and made the quick assumption that everyone on the salt blog is a piece of shit or smth).

"I’ve seen on MULTIPLE occasions people say I’ve said trans people don’t deserve rights, and they deserve to die. I would apologize in an INSTANT if you guys found actual, legitimate proof of me saying that."

post/182851960423 was the closest I could find to screenshots of your transphobia. while yes, based on the screenshots you didn't say trans people don't deserve rights or deserve to die, these were still proof of transphobia. (I do also remember there was a scenario where someone said you would want to tell a couple that trans people didn't deserve right or smth? I can't find any post on it though so don't take my word for it, I'd love if anyone had screenshots in the event I wasn't dreaming)

also in a later paragraph you say "Have I ever personally, now take note of that word, PERSONALLY, attacked a transgender person?" Does that assume that you have actually attacked a transgender before, albeit not personally? maybe online or smth? hmmmm.

((soz i don't have anything on your second point about mentioning gays, so I can't say anything about it))

"You can say what you want, oh, you’re normalizing transphobia, oh, your opinions hurt people so you can’t have them, oh, this and that. Shut. The fuck. Up. If you seriously think a different opinion about you sensitive, sensitive ass trans people deserves getting death wishes and threats, then ALL of you need serious help. Serious. Help. You disgust me. I am. One. Single. Person. Who doesn’t understand transgenderism and is confused and slightly disturbed by it."

First of all, Mewlin I,,, calling people sensitive over transphobia isn't helping you win anyone's side or proving your point sweetie hnngh. Good for you to admit being confused, but uhhHH trans people are obviously upset by transphobia. Also I'm confused, first you call out people who tell you you're normalizing transphobia, then you immediately move over to those who wish death upon you? Who exactly are you calling sensitive? Who exactly are you telling to "Shut. The fuck. Up."? The construction of your sentences make it seem like you want to blame everyone calling you out on your transphobia. Like,, you know, the people are right with you and your friends normalizing transphobia, if that whole point flew above your head. You say you're thankful for people educating you yet also tell them to stfu when they merely say you're normalizing transphobia and hurting people so um. are you really listening or just thankful there are people who aren't as angry as others are?

"Fourth, for those people who said I can’t wave the bi pride flag because ‘OhHhH sHe DoEsN’t DeSeRvE tO’- shut the fuck up. Alright? Alright. You do NOT speak for the whole fucking community, the flags don’t fucking belong to you, you entitled pieces of shit. [...] I am bisexual. I’m apart of the fucking LGBT+ community, so I get to wave the fucking bisexual flag all the fuck I want."

You can't be a part of the LGBT+ community if you don't support trans people. The 'T' is literally right there.

"Fifth, lol my life doesn’t revolve around this place of pure hatred."

What was the point of this whole paragraph? XD

"Sixth, you guys are disgusting for more than just demonizing me over a fucking opinion. You’re disgusting for also targeting my friends, who have done NOTHING WRONG, and giving them a bad name. What the fuck is wrong with all of you?? What makes you think it’s okay to do this to other people, but oh, nobody can touch you??"

Yall are honestly confusing the shit outta me. Bailey thought cancelling out transphobia with "a sweet personality" was alright when they're two separate things. What they said was completely wrong, so uh your friends have obviously done SOMETHING WRONG. I'm also not going to delve further with Bailey normalizing transphobia (see post/185601790264/: "Obviously I don’t agree with her beliefs, I think transphobia is nasty. BUT that doesn’t make her a bad person.") because you just mentioned that people calling you out on normalizing transphobia should "Shut. The fuck. Up".

"I’ve seen your comments about 'we’d stop if she stopped saying shit like this’. I would love it if you could give me an example of something I’ve said since the original post came out."

which original post? also there was the thing about you and terfs just the other day, right?

and lastly:

"NOT A SINGLE ONE OF YOU are doing anything good for your community. You should all be ashamed of the way you’ve handled this."

I'm not ashamed, but rather feel defeated for everyone who at least tried to make a point to you, Mewlin, without being hostile, me included. It feels shitty to constantly live like my time and effort trying to educate people is put to nothing but shit. Your hasty generalization that NOT A SINGLE ONE OF US is doing good for the community makes me feel so fucking terrible, and I hope you're happy with that. I understand where you're coming from but god, if this isn't the nail in the coffin for me then I really don't know what is. I personally live in the most conservative country in the entire damn world (yes, we are the only country without divorce) and I feel like I'm absolutely going no where spewing shit people won't want to even hear because all their brains can process is that they're being under attack and nothing matters but their own echo chamber. Sometimes it's tiring and though I don't advocate for it, somehow I understand how others have resorted to more "frustrated" approaches.

We're all tired of not being listened to.

On a last note: I was debating on posting this since I was scared but it's whatever at this point. Feel free to educate me on stuff if I got things wrong. I'm open for a talk.

- from a tired yet trying advocate of so many things, f1owercrown.

[spadesinglasses]

Elite s2 (Series)

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

OKAY I JUST FINISHED ELITE S2 IN ONE SITTING AND OOF IT WAS A BITCH THIS NIGHT.

WHERE SHOULD I START?

OH OKAY I WILL START WITH MY BABY CRISTIAN. HE’S NOT IN THE SEASON ALMOST. WHY, DID THE ACTOR HAD SOMETHING ELSE TO DO? 

Altho it pretty much worked since his character is actually unnecessary since it still all came out eventually.

Carla, baby boo you’re doing your best, but men just kept on fucking with your life. Honestly, maybe men are just not for you.

LUCRECIA I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU IN SEASON 1. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED, WHERE DID THIS INCESTUOUS STRIKE CAME FROM?

GUZMAN, GUZMAN BABY I’M SORRY. YOU’RE GOING THROUGH ALOT, BUT YOU ALSO GOTTA STOP THINKING WITH YOUR DICK. YOU KNOW THE POSITION NADIA WILL BE IN, WHY DID YOU NOT THINK TWICE.

Nadia, girl, baby I know how hard it is to be stuck in this fucking bubble of your family. I know the pressure to be free, and Omar got it, but I know that you just love your parents and your religion in ways that Omar didn’t (IM NOT SAYING OMAR DOES NOT LOVE HIS RELIGION OR PARENTS. IM JUST SAYING THAT THEY LOVE THESE THINGS IN DIFFERENT DEGREES AND INTENSITY OKAY)

But also Nadia good for you to finally be appreciated by your parents. I know how it feels to be in a position where you will think your parents worship the ground your brother was standing on no matter what. But seeing you finally get to the other end of the tunnel much loved and appreciated by your parents was such a heartwarming feeling and it gives me hope. (Altho i do doubt that life for me will be as good as Nadia’s)

OMAR, OMAR BOO STOP ATTACKING YOUR SISTER. SHE HAD DONE NOTHING WRONG TO YOU, STOP.

But also Omar, i’m so happy that you’re finally getting the chance to be who you are, to be free and just loved ,and just express yourself. I know Ander didn’t understand you at the beginning, but hopefully now he’ll know better.

Ander, you poor baby, it must be hard deciding who’s friend you gotta keep.

Fuck, sorry did not mean to be anti Ander, but baby a murderer literally confessed to you, and his reason was not even fucking valid. You chose to be silent, and let Guzman spiral to fucking madness when YOU fucking know Guzman got no one. POLO WHO WAS GUZMAN’S BEST FRIEND, JUST KILLED HIS SISTER AND YOU CHOSE TO BE QUIET BECAUSE WHAT?

I love you Ander, and you  make Omar happy, and Omar makes you happy. You are going through your parents divorce and got a lot on your plate, BUT OMFG.

Samuel, MY BABY YOU’RE ALIVE. YOU’RE SO FUCKING HOT AND JUST SO PRECIOUS. I LOVE YOU, YOU GOT ALL MY UWUS BECAUSE IT SEEMED LIKE I JUST CANNOT CONTAIN MY FEELS FOR YOU.

Honestly tho, Samuel’s actor is just goddamn so hot. I should really look up what his name is, but jfc baby boo your body should be worshipped.

(ehem to those who read this, I apologize for the thot-ness that came out in this post. I just love Samuel’s pretty eyes is all.)

Rebecca!

AND NOW DRUM ROLL PEOPLE FOR THE SHITS OF THE SEASON

tUN TUN TUN TUN

CAYETANA GIIIIIRL Honestly i do not even know what to say to you. I know here in Tumblr we’re all “fuck rich people, give their money to the poor” but girl, you somehow missed the “give their money to the poor” part.

AND PLEASE I hope, i really hope that you know that Polo is just using you, manipulating you into his scapegoat. I BET YOUR ASS HE’S GONNA PIN THE MURDER TO YOU.

Polo, bitch just die.

SPECIAL MENTIONS

NANO BABY YOU’RE HOT, IF YOU NEED A PLACE, MY SINGLE BED CAN HAVE TWO BODIES ON IT. I HAVENT TRIED THAT BUT I’LL MAKE IT WORK JUST FOR YOU.

I love him guys. I just love him. He’s wrong most of the time, but his heart is in the right place.

Samuel and Nano’s mother, I do not know you, but please think about what you’re about to say next time.

Police inspector, you’re a queen for finally listening to Ander. But omfg you stressed me ouuuut big time.

TUN TUN TUN FOR THE GUY WHO DOES NOT DESERVE ALL THIS, CRISTIAN MY BABYYYY

oooof apparently its spelled Christian, CHRISTIAN MY BABY I HATE THE FACT THAT YOU SHARE YOUR NAME WITH MY BROTHER, BUT STILL I LOVE YOU AND HOPE YOU SURIVIVE, AND THAT YOU RECOVER INTO A BETTER PERSON. I WANNA SEE YOU IN SEASON 3 IF ITS EVER GONNA HAPPEN. KISSES.

TLDR: This season was awesome and gave me mucho feels. My view towards the characters have not changed much compare to how i saw them back in Season 1, EXCEPT, for Lucrecia, who was still deserving of love, but REALLY needs to stop trying to manipulate people around because IT ALWAYS NEVER WORKS. Honey, you’re no mastermind, let’s just face that okay?

GENERAL OPINION TOWARDS THE SHOW.

I LOVE ALL OF IT. Right from the start I knew something was wrong about Cayetana, the whole vending machine scene was over the top, and im sure even if you’re homeschooled, you will be aware of it or at least not talk about that that much.

It was painful to see Christian like that, and honestly fuck you Carla’s demented father.

I LOVE the quote from Ander talking about how they are just children and the adults disappoint them, BUT YOU the watches get the effect from the whole set up that the world is the adult’s playground, and there’s just nothing you can do about it. 

The season is amazing, UP until the ending because honestly im just tired of Polo at this point. Homeboy murdered someone without any valid reason AND HE STILL GETS AWAY FROM IT.

Carla knows the system, and honestly of course we got some white boy getting away with murder again. 

Samuel was true as well about power and money that can heavily affect how the justice system listens to the victim. 

Carla was right about the women having lesser weight in their voices against some white male.

The justice system is broken, we all know that and we all wish that it will be fixed soon. (well Im being generous here, because let’s be honest, there are OTHER people who don’t want the justice system to be fair.)

WOOPS got all political and shit, woopsies.

anyways see ya and hope we get season 3 soon if its ever even announced or sth.