#makes me feel sick. that hurt and was awful and traumatizing please

[farewell-in-veil]

need everypne who draws me when my horns got cut off to die immediately

[yourheart-inmyhands]

YOU HAVE A CAT?! ME TOO?!

She hates me tho :(

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Zhongli, Neuvillette and Dottore

With a fox!darling that is always with animals and isn't social at all due to heavy torture in her past and they discover it? 💀

Man I'm in need of some gore rn 💀💀

- Weird anon ✨

i'm so sorry but i just couldn't write neuvillette for this prompt, he's too precious DX

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including being held against will, delusional behaviors, torture, breaking of bones, and other potential topics. Please Read At Your Own Risk!

Yandere!Zhongli sympathizes with you, and since it’s clear that the animals bring you comfort, he allows you to keep a couple when he moves you in with him. He even goes the extra mile and builds a special enclosure so they’ll be just as content as you are, even if you aren’t receptive to his love yet. 

When he finds out about your past, which is inevitable with how overbearing he can be and how good he is at finding out things from the locals, it almost hurts his heart a little. But the more sickening side of him is thrilled because now he knows exactly how to get to you, exactly how to make you his perfect little spouse.

Whether it’s be reintroducing trauma through breaking bones, locking you in a cold, damp room with no lights for hours on end, or even things that border on torture, he’ll use it against you so long as it won’t entirely ruin you. While he wants you compliant to his whims and wishes, he doesn’t want you to be a shell, it would’ve been a waste of his time to break you to that point;

Zhongli would never stop as low as hurting your animal friends, but if need be he could certainly find ways to turn them against you. It’s almost amusing to him, the way you care so much for creatures who you’ll outlive. How you care so much for creatures who don’t even really know you, funny.

The sickening crunch of bone echoes through the room as Zhongli stands over you, the heel of his shoe digging into the freshly crushed bones in your leg. The makeshift gag, a towel from the kitchen, dug into the sides of your mouth as it muffled your screams and cries. The Geo Archon almost feels bad for using his strength in such a brutal manner, but it would all be worth it, at least that was how he justified it to himself. It wasn’t about the now, but rather what now would soon be bringing him. By breaking you down bit by bit, sending you spiraling back into some of the worst moments of your life, he could slowly rebuild your shattered pieces how he saw fit. What use was a puzzle if the pieces weren’t in the correct order, right?

Yandere!Dottore is sick, sick, twisted, and absolutely disgusting. If he wasn’t the cause of your original trauma, you could surely bet he’d be the driving force behind re-traumatizing you. 

Whether he chooses to reenact every step, or to simply do something far worse than what had previously done it all dependent on how he feels that day. Some days will be so similar to your past that you’ll truly feel like you were back there, all those years ago. Other days are so awful it almost makes what happened in your past seem insignificant as if that were a stone among boulders resting on the ocean floor. 

Dottore does think it’s funny though, using it as both amusement and research opportunities. It wasn’t often that animals such as yourself came across his table, so of course he’d taken the prime subject as soon as he’d laid eyes on you.

In his lab, you aren’t seen as anything but a thing that exists only for Dottore’s own gain. If you’re lucky one of his more sympathetic clones might take pity on you and actually give you a day to rest when he’s out of the Palace, but they’re expected to keep up the same treatment he inflicts in his absence.

It was almost sickening to the segments as the watched the fox-human endure soul shaking torture day in and day out. Everything from injections to straight up live surgery to see how much pain the body could take whilst awake had occurred on the cold, steel table. They were often left to clean up the mess, expected to stitch you up, administer antidotes to anything too harmful that had been administered today, and even sometimes bathe you due to the mess that had occurred. You’d been fed little since you arrived, given water only when necessary for your survival, and hadn’t seen sunlight in days- or months maybe? With the sickening way time seemed to pass, you couldn’t tell how long you’d been here. Your only reprieve would be when the doctor left for something more pressing, leaving you in the care of his segments that only sometimes took pity on you. Some seemed to hold a little more humanity than others.

[powerpolyculeshowdown]

A vent about the poll runner that got doxxed:

I was originally going to reblog the post, as many people have - and I don't blame anyone for doing so, it's something people will want to spread awareness about, especially among other poll runners, because the stakes just got a lot higher. It's not just worrying about mean and hateful people in your inbox or your notes - which can be extremely harmful on its own and has led some mods to abandon their polls - but it adds a new layer of concern.

doxxing is very serious, it comes with it's own mess of fears to the victim: there's the same psychological harm you might get from the hate, but also a physical danger, because letting someone know you have their address is a threat. It's a very clear and serious threat, even if you don't say you'll do anything. It can be traumatizing, a lot of us are already neurodivergent and/or mentally ill in ways something like that can cause more harm than it would to a mentally healthy/neurotypical person, and those would probably be heavily affected by it as well. If you struggle with paranoia as a symptom of anything, or just very high anxiety, this could change your life drastically. If you don't struggle with those, you might start to. I don't know what kind of sick fuck would doxx someone without knowing how awful their action is, but on the off chance there's people out there that would do it and somehow don't realize the gravity, please have some compassion. You don't even need empathy, you just need common sense. Think critically about how you're going to hurt that person. Hurt people around them. Why do you want to do that?

In the end I decided against reblogging the original post. I don't know OP, i don't know how they're feeling right now, I can only hope they're as okay as they can be, and they're safe. But I know that in their place I wouldn't want notifications reminding me of the whole thing. I know you can turn those off, but I felt more comfortable not reblogging it. I also won't say who the victim is, I don't feel comfortable exposing them like that, but there's lots of other poll runners reblogging it* and you might find out through them.

*to clarify, i'm not trying to claim me not reblogging it is somehow the "morally correct choice". its not a matter of what's correct, it's just a personal choice. In fact, i'm thankful that people are reblogging it because I was made aware of the danger, as I didn't follow op. There's pros and cons to either decision, mine was to not reblog.

And not to make this about myself, that's really not my intention, but i'm fucking terrified after reading that. I haven't given up on the poll, but I might need some time to recover because i'm not exactly the most stable person and shit like this rlly messes me up. I hope you can all understand if the round one polls don't come out on sunday. I won't apologize if they don't, cause i think this is a pretty good reason to need a break.

Once again, I hope the mod for that poll is safe, and i hope they can recover from this soon.

[honeyjars-sims]

2.7 Opening Up

Lexie: It’s too bad we got assigned to set design for the first production, but at least we’ll be able to hang out together. 

Johnny: Yeah, it looks like most of the acting roles went to the juniors and seniors. Maybe next year we’ll have better luck.

Lexie: Well, the semester’s just getting started. Who knows what will happen. We could impress them with our sick acting skills and get the leads next time. 

Johnny: [laughing] I support your delusional optimism! Oh, I almost forgot…my mom wanted me to tell you hi and that she enjoyed meeting you.

Lexie: Hmm, that’s nice of her. I guess let her know I said hi as well.

Johnny: [teasingly] You’re not going to say it was nice to meet her too?

Lexie: No comment.

Johnny: I don’t blame you! Honestly, it went better than I was expecting.

Lexie: Really? That's kind of sad.

Johnny: Yeah, unfortunately, that was just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my mom. 

Lexie: Well, it really bothered me how she was speaking about you. I kept trying to change the subject, but she’d always end up making some snarky little comment. 

Johnny: I’m used to it, I guess. The thing is, if I’d called her out she’d say I was overreacting. In the past, I would’ve believed her, but now…not so much.

Lexie: Good, because she’s wrong about you. I can’t imagine how it affected you to hear that as a child, or even now.

Johnny: [sighs] I wish I could say that was the worst thing I had to deal with as a kid, but it wasn’t by a long shot. If you don’t mind, I think I’m ready to talk to you about it.

Lexie: Of course. You can tell me anything. Let's go somewhere more private.

TW: The dialogue below includes discussion of child abuse and drug abuse (not graphic but please use your own discretion if this topic is triggering to you).

Johnny: It wasn’t just my mom who treated me badly. It was also her husband, Jimmy. I refuse to call him my stepdad because he wasn’t any kind of parent to me. He was way worse, though. With my mom it’s this kind of passive aggressive backhanded shit, but Jimmy? He was full-on aggressive. Not just with his words, either. 

Lexie: Oh my God, he hurt you? Johnny, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was that bad.

Johnny: Yeah, it was pretty awful. I started having nightmares and I was anxious all the time. I tried to talk to my mom about it, but I was too scared to tell her what was really going on so she thought I was just being dramatic. 

Lexie: Geez, I can’t imagine my parents just brushing me off like that. You must have been terrified.

Johnny: I was. It only got worse when my mom started doing drugs. By that time I was old enough to start fighting back and all the blame fell on me. Jimmy almost convinced mom to send me to military school but then my dads got custody of me and Chantal.

Lexie: Thank God for your dads! 

Johnny: For real, I’m so grateful for them. It’s weird, though…whenever a kid gets away from their abusive family, everyone expects them to be happy about it. No one ever talks about all the mixed emotions. I knew I was better off with my dads, but I still thought about the good times I had with my mom. It was hard to leave her.

Lexie: I think I understand more why you’re still trying to work things out with her. It sounds like the whole situation was really traumatic for you.

Johnny: Yeah, even when I wasn’t talking to her I always had this feeling of “what if?” Like maybe there is a way to fix everything and make it go away.

Lexie: Some things can’t be fixed, no matter how hard you try. I don’t know if your relationship with your mom is one of them, but I hope you’ll recognize when it’s time to let go if it comes to that.

Johnny: I think I will. I’m going to give it more time, but I’m starting to feel like…like I deserve better. I didn’t feel that way before.

Lexie: You deserve so much better, Johnny. You’re so much more than what your mom sees you as. And Jimmy. He better hope I never see him ‘cause I’ll kick him right in the balls!

Johnny: [laughing] Lexie! I’ve never heard you so angry before. I can’t see you doing something like that, you’re too sweet.

Lexie: I’d do it to him! And I’d enjoy watching him suffer. Oh, sorry, I probably shouldn’t be so violent about it. It just really got me worked up. 

Johnny: It’s ok. You’re cute when you’re protective.

Lexie: Well, consider me your bodyguard, then.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[tricitymonsters]

A long rambling post about US Healthcare

Alright so waiting didn't really help me parse out what I want to say but a big pillar of our online community passed away suddenly because of what amounts- frankly- to the gross negligence and cruelty of the US healthcare system.

For those of you who don't know Furaffinity is essentially THE cornerstone of the centralized furry and monsterlover community and the site was, for a long time, run by a guy named Dragoneer LARGELY by himself. This website hosted community ads, moderated its own content, and maintained a welcoming and corporation-free space for artists and other creatives to do their thing. My involvement in furaffinity has been pretty low key but I firmly believe that monsterfuckers and furries are only spitting distance apart at best so I feel a strong camaraderie and sense of kinship with them. As for how Dragoneer ran Furaffinity, what I can tell you personally is that FA was one of only TWO websites that will allow me to advertise TCM and when I emailed to get ads set up and configured, Dragoneer answered those emails personally.

Dragoneer had chronic issues that were difficult to diagnose for a while and reading his twitter/journal posts paints a really depressing, heartbreaking story of frustration, misdirection, and the banality of pure evil. Dragoneer was denied care he deserved because of the bureaucratic void that is our healthcare system here in America. He was charged tens of thousands of dollars for inconclusive tests, ordered to wait at home with minimal or no treatment, and this culminated in his rapid decline and sudden death last night.

Our healthcare system is traumatic and one incident, one accident, one sickness can financially ruin any of us permanently.

It's awful. One of the reasons this is difficult for me to talk about is because my dad died suddenly and horrifically to Covid in late 2020 because our for-profit hospitals refused to prepare for a pandemic while our executive administration pretended nothing was wrong. My dad died two weeks before vaccines began rolling out and when my mom and I had to make the choice to end his care we were only allowed to see him for 2 minutes at a time, separately. My husband was denied entry altogether because he wasn't "immediate" family.

Personally, I have chronic health issues that regularly get ignored. I have a mandatory medication (of several) that has no generic and costs over 300$ for a 30-day supply and my pharmacy (I'm not allowed to change) sometimes runs out and I gap for weeks at a time, sending my brain function into the toilet.

If you're American please help by keeping healthcare reform a primary voting issue in both Federal and State/Local elections. We need officials who see what this is doing to us, not more 1%ers who will never have to worry about what to do with a $25k hospital bill (one of Dragoneer's latest) or even a $250k one (my dad's bill for daring to die in ICU). I know it's a rough ask but for the financially stable, consider legal recourse for rights violations (some lawyers work pro bono for health stuff, the point is to always explore avenues to push back). We can't go on like this.

If you're not American, please help us by raising awareness in your own areas. Most of us look to more socialized countries like Canada and the EU for examples of how to improve our current system and of course, we know things aren't perfect but it's an embarrassment and a tragedy that Americans can't access the quality of care our system should VERY MUCH be able to provide.

Anyway.

This was really long-winded but it hurts a lot to know that there are so many cases like Dragoneer, like my dad. People with serious or even chronic issues can't get the smallest scrap of compassion in this system that reduces us to inconvenient numbers that our for-profit system can squeeze pocket change out of while murdering us.

I'll post links if a fundraiser goes up for Dragoneer's family to help cover the funds but until then, thanks for reading my long and winding thoughts. It's very hard to tame the emotion with this particular issue.

[girlwithwolftatoo]

So I had a thought the other day of how the moonboys would react to see Y/N killing someone after following her for being not herself. What are your thoughts?

I woke up tired, voiceless and sick, so I choose the path of angst.

For this request I though of two possible scenarios to explain why the sudden change in Reader's behavior, being one she's in a sidequest to help the Moon boys being safe that makes her become more careful and sneaky; the other option is she has problems by herself and doesn't want to involve the boys.

Steven Grant:

*His first thought is someone had hurt you, because, what could be the reason to find you shaking and covered in blood?

*Will try to soothe you, though he's not a fan of seeing such a gory scene, and then you confess, eyes filled with tears, that the blood is not yours.

*Now he's shocked. What do you mean? There must be an explanation, there must be an excuse, anything but the mere truth that you, the loveliest and sweetest person in the world, is actually capable to murder.

*After helping you getting back home and dispose the stained clothes (he's so horrified he needs your help for that), you sit together and drink some tea. You know he must be clueless and worried, so you try your best to explain what exactly happened, and besides, you swear he'll never have to pass through something like this again...

*"If... if the circumstances happen again... I promise I'll leave you alone, Steven" "What? No, no... it doesn't have to be like this..." "I don't want to hurt you in this way, please" "It won't happen again, yes, (Y/N)? I... I'll be with you neverthless what"

Jake Lockley:

*He's the one who handles the situation in a better, lighter mood. Yeah, you've been a little weird nowadays and now it seems you unlived someone, perhaps you needed to make some catharsis?

*Since he's used to this kind of scenarios, he takes you calmly to clean yourself and wash your clothes (and Jake knows how to leave even the white shirts completely stainless after a busy night). But also he wants to know, first hand, what exactly happened.

*"Oh, well, that explains a lot" he nods. Yes, probably later he'll make a retrospection and find weird your sudden hability to chase and destroy someone in such form, but meanwhile is not a big deal, and besides, is good to have your normal self back.

*You may believe he's not taking you serious for he's acting very calmed towards you and may be it leads to a sudden crisis. Don't worry, he's here with you, ready to make you feel better at any cost.

*"Calm down, bonita, everyone has had a moment in which they wanted to kill someone... I have that all the time" "Jake, I don't know if that helps me" "Okay, my bad, wanna watch movies and eat nachos?"

Marc Spector:

*He has a deep adult fear that quickly turns into a traumatized-child fear: at first he thinks you're acting weird because you grew tired of him, but then, when he finds out what's actually going on (perhaps during a Moon Knight shift), he drowns in pure horror.

*His first thought is, perhaps, you're exactly like him and you suffered from a disociation crisis. He even approaches you softly and asks "(Y/N), is that you?"

*Feels a little better when you claim you're still yourself, but now there's a new worry in his mind: if that's really you and you've been yourself all this time, why did you end up in a dark alley with the remains of a victim?

*In this case is you who needs to calm him down. He fears something awful is happening to you or even blames himself because he thinks being with you may influence bad things (even thinks Khonshu may be doing something on you). After you explain to him what happened he may return to normality, but still feels worried for some days later.

*Marc is very protective towards you, and will do his best to avoid you from suffering another situation like this one. Anyways, you must help him to understand you'll be fine and he doesn't need to push his limits away just to keep you safe. "I'm fine as long as you're for me, Marc, I swear"

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Can I request HSP + depression reader (who thinks they are just weak and being crybaby) x Bucky, please? I understand you are super busy right now and I didn’t mean to rush you or anything but I'm just struggling with both HSP and depression and couldn’t help but send it right now. No need to hurry, just when you are free and maybe when you had nothing to write. Thank you and I love you!

Thank you for the request, I’m sorry it’s been a difficult time for you! I’m here if you need me and I hope that this helps!!! 

It’s called empathy

Bucky x reader

Word count: 1981

Warnings: depression, HSP (highly sensitive person), low self worth, negative self talk, swearing (that’s normal for me but this one’s a little extra), angst (more so internal idk if that needs a warning), fluff/comfort

Taglist: @buckys2thicc @babydaddy-buckybarnes @barnesplums @peggycarter-steverogers @mardema @abitgryffindorky @buckys-blue-eyes @strawberrimae @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @bucks-bunny @broadwaybabe18 @im-sick-of-failing

Taglist     Masterlist

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Breathe in

Breathe out

In 

Out 

...in…

You felt a tear escape your eyes

Goddamn it

You didn’t want to cry, you couldn’t let yourself. It was stupid, it was just some shitty remark from someone when they were in a shitty mood, it wasn’t your fault, all that bullshit you tried to tell yourself. It never worked.

You were trying to control your breathing, looking up at the ceiling trying to will the tears away, biting your lip. You would not cry, not over this. Not over something that wasn’t worth your tears

Not when you didn’t even know what exactly you were crying over. 

Yet here you were, gripping the edge of the bathroom sink with white knuckles, looking up at the ceiling trying to keep the tears at bay. And it wasn’t working.

Weak sensitive piece of shit. 

What good were you to the team if you cry in the bathroom like a baby every time something remotely stressful happens? People usually cry when they're in pain or when they’re grieving - the only excuse you had was you were stressed or sad. 

You felt another few tears escape and you angrily swiped them away, cursing yourself for being so weak. 

You hated this, you hated yourself. You were so numb most of the time, especially when you were alone. You found yourself alone in your room with racing thoughts feeling like you were falling apart. Yet when you were alone you could only stare at the ceiling wondering if it would get any worse. 

The answer was usually yes.

Whenever you would go on missions with the team, you were able to push aside your stress. You had a job to do and you would do it. But when the mission was over and you were walking back through the rubble - seeing all the blood, destruction, fear - then it would start to get to you. You would panic, you would feel tears cloud your vision. Tears for those you were leaving behind, and those who had nowhere to go, those who lost someone. That was understandable. 

It seemed to affect you more than the others though. It was understandable to be moved by so much destruction. But for you everyone felt like someone you had known and loved. 

You could feel the grief in those left behind, feel the sadness and pain that they were going through. 

The same was true when you weren’t on missions. When those who were on them would come back. Whether they were injured or their eyes were saddened - you knew when a mission was rough. You would listen, you would be there for people. It was easy to talk to you, and you were very wise. 

But it still overwhelmed you. You couldn’t say no, you didn’t want to. You wanted to help but it would be so emotionally taxing for you. So behind closed doors, you would break. Be there for others, listen when they need to talk, others come first - you took their emotional pain onto yourself. 

You were grateful that you could help - but in the process it was hurting you. 

You allowed yourself to feel sad when you were alone in your room. No one could see you be weak in the dark of your room. But you never cried much just from the pure exhaustion of your thoughts. Sometimes you wanted to, just feeling so incredibly empty that you just wanted to have an ugly crying session curled up in bed.

But you didn’t get to make that choice.

The crying wouldn’t come until the absolute worst times. If you had messed up on a mission, if Tony said something a little too harshly because to him everything was a joke, seeing something gruesome on a mission- whenever it came to someone else getting involved, the tears would come. Hell sometimes even being overwhelmed in public would be enough to start the waterworks. 

You always felt so fucking weak for it. The slightest environmental stressor could stress you out too much and move you to tears. You had no reason to be upset most of the time. But you would get angry at yourself for being upset, which would make you more upset that you couldn’t control it, making it harder to control.

It was a vicious cycle.

Lately it had been popping up more and more recently. Smaller things were upsetting you more than usual. You were becoming more sensitive to external stimuli and as a result, you spent as much time as you could in your room. You were embarrassed by yourself. Both by your emotions and by your inability to control them. 

This time you were just upset that you were upset. It had been a long night the day prior, just a lot of paperwork to do. There had been a mission earlier this week that you hadn’t been assigned to, but it had been brutal for everyone who had gone. So far today had been a normal day by anyone’s terms, an emotionally exhausting one for you. One of those where you woke up tired and the thoughts of another day were enough to draw you to tears. Nothing had even happened, but apparently nothing needed to happen. 

Your emotions came and went without your consent. 

You knew deep down it was probably some sort of emotional build up - that whole quote about bottling things up until they got to be too much - it happened every time but you still thought you could handle yourself better than that. You didn’t want to vent or be a problem to anyone. But when you are the emotional support for most of the team and you haven’t been able to get enough sleep or take time for yourself - you didn’t have much of a say as to when the bottle overflows.

A few more tears fell and you slammed your hand on the counter, wiping your tears angrily once more. “God fucking damn it why can’t you just stop fucking crying!” you exclaimed, feeling a few more tears falling “Weak piece of shit!” 

There was knocking on the door, pulling you out of your self deprecating thoughts. You gasped lightly, wiping your face again. 

Knock knock

You jumped a little, gasping slightly. No one was supposed to be here, it was the middle of the night. 

“Y/n? What’s going on in there? Are you alright?”

You took a shaky breath. Of course it would be Bucky who heard you. Why would it be anyone else?

“I’m fine Bucky, it’s late, you should go to sleep.”

“Then why are you still awake?” Bucky responded. You heard him sigh a little outside the door. “Come out here and tell me you’re okay.”

“Really Bucky?”

“Unless you want me to come in there, but I don’t think Stark would appreciate me breaking your door.”

You took a small breath and walked over to the door, opening it. You crossed your arms and met Bucky’s concerned eyes. “I’m fine, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed, taking in your appearance. Red eyes, flushed face, your hair was messy - you were definitely crying. He hated when you wouldn’t admit that you weren’t ok. “You know you don’t have to be, right?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep fresh tears from clouding your vision. “What?”

“You say you’re fine, you always say that you’re fine until you break. I heard you crying, I can see that you’re not feeling okay yet still you try to keep a brave face. And I just want you to know that you don’t have to always be okay.”

You let out a breath. “I - i…” you looked down and shook your head, lost for words. 

“Y/n, I’m not here to judge you. Can you try to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you said looking up at him “It’s literally so stupid, Bucky.”

“Y/n, nothing you say right now is going to sound stupid. 

You shrugged your shoulders, still not quite meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, I just get so worked up sometimes, but it’s stupid. I tell myself I’m not going to be bothered and then I freak out again. The smallest things bother me and I get stressed out and then I cry like some stupid weak bitch. People have it worse than me, God, you have it worse than me. Everyone here has some sort of traumatic awful thing happen to them and then there’s me and I get sad because I see other people sad,” you were crying again and you wiped at your face, covering your eyes. “God Im so fucking stupid I -”

Bucky pulled you into his chest as you let out a sob. “You’re not stupid, y/n.”

“YES I AM. I get worked up over the smallest shit, I don’t listen when people tell me to take breaks, I take everything too personally and I can’t stop fucking crying when I don’t even know what the fuck is wrong!” you exclaimed, trying to push yourself away, ashamed.

Bucky held you tightly, not letting you go. “That’s not your fault. It’s not up to you how your feelings show up.”

“But I cry at the most stupid shit and I can’t control it.”

“You’re not supposed to know how to control it,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “Emotions can’t be controlled. They just happen and it’s rarely convenient.”

“Then why do I feel so weak? If this,” you gestured to yourself “is so goddamn normal then why isn’t everyone else breaking down every other day?” 

Bucky brushed some hair out of your face. “Your emotions are yours, no one else’s. No one has the right to tell you how to feel. Think of it this way - you can’t expect everyone to have the same amount of strength or stamina - no one has the same emotional response either. And that doesn’t make you weak, it makes you you.”

You shook your head. “I just feel so weak all the time.” 

“And I’m here to remind you that crying isn’t weak. You are not a weak person, you are not a bad person, you’re not any of those things your mind tells you. You’re a kind and thoughtful person. You put your heart into everything you do. You help everyone you can. Mourning someone else’s loss isn’t weakness. It’s called empathy.”

You took a small breath. “Then why does it hurt so goddamn much?”

“”I don’t know. And I can’t say for certain that you won’t always feel that way. But I know I can tell you that you aren’t weak, and I’ll be here every time you feel that you are.” 

You nodded your head slightly. “You don’t think I’m weak?” you asked quietly.

He pulled you back into a hug. “Not in the slightest, y/n.”

[shorkbrian]

Plzzz for the love of god I need more bully Bakugo

Prelude - here have some food. Part 1

Pairing - Bully Bakugou X Reader

Warnings - NSFW, degradation, spanking, noncon, dub con, all the cons. Dead dove.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/4VezGgvwNY3mtTbAEkmRMY?si=NxDxEMfERc-3flSDuq8kpQ

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“You’re such a fucking tease.”

Another slap to your ass, and you’re sure that if Bakugou’s hand wasn’t covering your mouth, you’d be wailing so loud that it could be heard across campus.

You’d been avoiding him after that weekend, after he’d tied you down and edged you for hours, laughing at you, occasionally pulling the vibrating dildo out of you just so he could push his cock into you, make you gush around his length. It had been torture, and scarring, and traumatizing, and you couldn’t even think about going to class for the first few days after he had sent you out of his dorm with a smack on the cheek and a “See you around, little bitch.”

There had been no way you were going to the classes you had with Bakugou. You were avoiding him like the plague, blowing off those classes, only creeping out of your dorm when you absolutely had to.

But you couldn’t avoid him forever, and he had told you as such when he grabbed you, shoving you sideways and into a family bathroom as you walked to one of your classes, head held low, feet hurrying.

“I can’t fucking believe you.” The blonde slapped your ass again, the flesh already raw and bruised. “I have the best weekend of my entire life, and then you fuck off and hide. “

Bakugou had you bent over at the sink, face half-squished against the dirty mirror, his hand clamped over your mouth, the other hand abusing your ass. You had been wearing sweatpants, but they were somewhere by the door, thrown there along with your underwear.

“Keep crying bitch,  you know it just turns me on.” Bakugou chuckled darkly, noticing your tearstained face in the mirror.  “Fuck, you look good like that. You’re so pretty, you made me do this.”

He was so volatile, mood unsteady and often changing for the worse. You couldn’t keep up, just openly sob into his hand.

“How does that make you feel, huh?” He asked, and if you weren’t about to be actively raped, you might’ve laughed. He sounded like a therapist, a fucked-in-the-head, psycho-the-rapist type thing. 

“Knowing that I wouldn’t be doing this if you weren’t such a pretty little cocksucker. If you weren’t so weak and pathetic, you could fight back. You could even tell someone.” Bakugou laughed again, voice rasping in your ear “But you never do. I bet you secretly enjoy this shit, huh - want someone to fuck you up and make you their little bitch?”

You shake your head, or, at least try to, but Bakugou doesn’t let you. He’s keeping your legs spread with his feet inside of yours, his crotch now pressed against your burning ass, his hand wrapped around your hip to slap quickly at your pussy.

“Yeah, you’re a sick littler fucker, I knew from the second I saw you. Looked like a bitchy little slut, only good for keeping a cock warm. This is all your fault, stupid whore.”

Logically, you knew that what he was saying wasn’t true. This wasn’t your fault, bakugou was just a rapist, a horrible man, this wasn’t your fault at all. But some nasty little part of you reared back at that statement, whispering that maybe it was.

Maybe you had encouraged him by excusing his behavior at first, when the man had first started pushing you around. Maybe it was because you had worn something a bit too revealing, or had done something suggestive while he was looking? You didn’t know what you had done to catch his attention, but you wished on everything holy (and everything unholy too) that you hadn’t. 

You jerked away from his touch as he began groping at your cunt, palming over your mound, slipping his fingers through your pussy lips roughly. Your movements only served to push you back into his crotch, and Bakugou rutted forward, trapping you between his fingers and his cock.

“Tch, you’re a piece of work. Crying like that, almost fuckin’ pissin’ yourself like a little girl. Can’t believe I actually fucking like you.”

All movement stopped. 

Wait, did Bakugou just say he liked you?

Before you had time to even consider that thought (why would he do any of this if he liked you?), Bakugou was swearing, retracting the hand molesting your pussy so he could work on unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans, pulling his cock free.

He was having trouble trying to achieve all of that one-handed, so he leaned forward, hissing a threat into your ear before taking his other hand away from your mouth. The second he did that, you sucked in a real breath, nose too stuffy with snot and mucus to be able to take in much oxygen.

“B-bakugou, ple-please... “

“Ple-ple-please what?” He cooed sweetly, mocking you as he worked his cock free of his boxers.

“I don’t wanna do - I don’t want to, I don’t wanna do-“

“I don’t fuckin’ care, ain’t that clear? But keep beggin’, I like that shit.”

His cock was pushing through your folds now, hips roughly rocking you forward against the sink, which you grabbed onto the edges to steady yourself. 

“No, no no no no, no, no-“ you sobbed, unable to say much else. You couldn’t do this, it was too much! His cocked was nudging against your clit on each thrust, and it was sending shocks of pleasure into your belly, making it draw tight. You felt disgusted with yourself.

Bakugou’s hands were on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as his hips worked his cock against you. He was grunting softly, breathing heavily already. And his cock was so hot pressing against your flesh,  and you could feel his precum getting smeared everywhere down there, it was so dirty, you wanted to throw up. 

The family bathroom was dirty too; it smelled weird, and  the mirror had smudges and what looked like a lipstick stain on the bottom edge. There was some kind of crusty buildup around the sink drain, not to mention the discoloration around the toilet. 

The state of the bathroom reflected how you felt inside - tainted, disgusting, used.

“Mmh, You gonna cry harder if I put it in?” Bakugou had his hand wrapped around his cock, tapping it upwards against your pussy, laughing as her flinched with each messy slap.

The man didn’t actually care about getting an answer, or maybe the way you burst into another round of tears was enough of an answer for him. He was leaning forward, draping his weight across your back, pushing his mouth right up against your ear.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna pound your little hole, and you’re gonna watch every second of it in that mirror, understand?”

You looked up at your reflection in the mirror, puffy eyes, puffy lips, top askew, bottom half bare. You tried to pretend that you couldn’t see Bakugou’s cock starting to slide through your folds again. You couldn’t stand this, couldn’t look, so you closed your eyes, bowing your head.

“Ah, ah, ah babe - if you don’t look-“  You heard the sound of the impact before you felt it. But when your bruised ass registered the hit, you screeched, almost crumbling atop the sink. It hurt so much, oh god, it hurt. “-that’s gonna happen. So I suggest you open your fucking eyes, and watch.”

Blearily, you opened your eyes, staring numbly at yourself in the mirror.

Bakugou grabbed a handful of your ass, kneading it roughly before spreading your cheeks apart, hand guiding his cock to line up with your entrance. It felt so awful, all of it. There was pain, and shame, and disgust, and you were mortified that the little candle of pleasure in your stomach was turning into a bonfire. At least Bakugou wasn’t a savage, or at least not interested in seeing you bleed (this time, he’d kneed you in the face once when you tried to refuse to suck his dick and given you a nosebleed) because he went slow. Well, as slow as a guy like him could go.

It was still entirely too fast, the way he entered you, pushing his hips forward easily and filling you up in one rough thrust. 

You watched from the mirror, legs spread apart far enough that you could easily see when Bakugou was balls deep, his hip bones jutting against your ass. Your poor ass, you don’t think you’d be able to sit for a while after this.

The man paused when he bottomed out, breathing heavily, chuckling almost maniacally as he made eye contact with you through the dirty mirror.

“Fucking shit, you’re so goddamn tight. Mmh-“ he jostled his hips, his cock rubbing against your walls deliciously “-So wet too. You’re such a fucking slut, bet you’d gag on any dick you could find.”

You shook your head “No-no, I don’ - don’ do that!”  You wept, but any further argument you were about to make was cut off by Bakugou pulling out, then thrusting into you as deep as he could.

Eyes still focused on where his cock was forcing you open, your jaw relaxed, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. You hated it, you hated it so much, but Bakugou was good at this. He was ramming into you, not fast, not slow, but hard and deep. Every few strokes he would shimmy his hips, and his cockhead hit something inside of you, something that made your legs weak and your pulse jump.

An excruciating pain bloomed across your ass, and your eyes snapped open - when had you closed them? You caught Bakugou’s gaze, and shivered. He was sweating, brows furrowed, intensely focused on watching your face in the mirror. 

The intensity he was exhibiting scared you, honestly. Of course, Bakugou was pretty much always intense in everything he did, from playing football to studying (you’d seen him once in the library, hunched over his books with a scowl that could wilt weeds), but you’d never seen him look at something, at someone, like that.

He noticed you looking back at him, which made his cheeks color, and then another slap was delivered to your ass, and you yelped, jolting forward from the pain.

“Ba-akugo! I didn’ - please, I didn’t do anythingggg.” You openly wept. 

You were ignored, Bakugou choosing to pound you harder rather than respond.

  “Fucking look at yourself, damn. You’re nothing more than a stupid cockslut, a little whore. No one’s ever gonna want you, you’re absolutely worthless.” He spat, threading a hand through your hair, pulling your head back. You had to follow his hand or else he’d rip your hair out, an unspoken threat, so you did, until your back was flush against his chest.  He wrapped a hand under your thigh, hiking it up into the air, forcing you to go on your tiptoes as he hooked your knee over his elbow, spreading you open.

“Look at that. See how wet you are? I can hear it.” He growls in your air, breathing heavily.

He was right, the slick sounds of him messing up your cunt reverberating in the bathroom. You could only watch as his cock hammered into you, his pace picking up quickly. 

You started to cry, really cry. Ugly, heaving sobs, where you couldn’t breath, your head throbbing towards a horrific headache, hands uselessly grabbing at Bakugou’s arms, not to stop him, there was no way you could - but to steady yourself from the brutality of his thrusts.

“Oh fuck, fucking christ, ‘m close, shit.” Bakugou gasped, and you wiggled in his hold, hyperventilating. You knew it just turned him on more, made him fuck you harder, but you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to dislodge his cock. He couldn’t cum inside, please.

“Not-not inside! Please please please not inside, Bakugou ple-ase!”

Bakugou didn’t respond, just panted in your ear, low groans rumbling through his chest as his hips humped against you, driving his cock into your cunt with a sloppy squelch on each rapid thrust.

You felt him cum.

You felt the first few ropes of warmth shoot inside you, but then the blonde was pulling out, jacking his cock onto your pussy, striping the rest of his cum over the outside of your cunt. It was humiliating. 

But you figured it was better than inside.

“Mmm, fuck bitch. You always know how to get me off. Good little pussy.” He finished humming, giving his wet cock one last tug, before messily slapping his hand over your cunt, rubbing his cum into your skin. It felt disgusting. 

You let him do what he wanted, let him rub circles over your clit, let him abandon the little nub in favor of sticking two of his cum-covered fingers inside of you, rubbing at your walls quickly. It felt good, but you were tired, and you didn’t want it to.

“Alright, I got class. Wanna suck me clean?”

His hands retracted from your body, and he let your leg down, pushing you away from him as gently as he could (which wasn’t very gently). A side step, then he was in front of you, washing his hands underneath the sink. You watched him blankly. 

“Well? You gonna suck me off? Or just stand there like a goddamn fish?”

You slowly dropped to your knees, cringing at the bathroom floor. It was nasty, dirty, probably covered in piss and maybe shit an-

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, I’m gonna be late.” Bakugou was looking at his phone, before his eyes flicked to you. He grabbed a handful of paper towels, dabbing at the mess covering his dick.

“How ‘bout you meet me after my class, and we’ll both get a little treat? Would you like that, stupid bitch?” He crouched down in front of you, pinching your cheek as he talked to you in a cutesy baby voice. 

When you didn’t respond, he grabbed your chin, yanking you forward until you were inches from his face. “Say yes, or you’re not gonna like the shit I’ll do to you.”

“Ye-yes, yes Bakugou.” You spluttered, trying to stop hiccuping on sobs, but failing pathetically. 

Bakugou nodded to himself, before pausing, as if appraising you. His eyes wandered over your face, and the next thing you knew he was kissing you, lips soft, passionate.

When he pulled away, you were left dazed, still kneeling on the ground. The man rose to his feet, stomping over to where his backpack hung on the door. He stopped to pick up your underwear from your sweatpants, pocketing the fabric as he grinned at you.

“Don’t forgot about meetin’ me after class, got it? Make me wait and I’ll beat your ass.” He paused, cocking his head to glance at your backside, before laughing. “Eh, or maybe I’ll just fuck it.” His eyes gleamed as he straightened his head. “So don’t be late.”

And with that warning he was shouldering his backpack, kicking your sweatpants towards you, slipping out the door.

Belatedly, you realized that your clit was still buzzing, that the pleasure clenching up your stomach hadn’t crested. 

With a sob, you let your fingers find their way to your pussy.

[1kook]

commercial break; SEVEN

this is part of my netflix & chill series ! happens a few months before part 7 

summary; And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare. It’s a perfect plan.  warnings; horny jk, jk wants to roleplay... everyone point n laugh, mentions of his impreg kink lol, making out, tits, honestly jk is just very horny n in love lol, jk in a vampire costume w fangs O_o rating; mature (18+) wc; 2k

notes; if u don’t know who lindsay is first of all ur sick, second of all here’s my queen’s top moments. also i just gotta say, this was originally gonna be a larger fic (a halloween special) for my ncouple, but i got a lil busy with school n ultimately didn't have time to invest in this as a whole installment so..... enjoy this commercial break instead!!

Jungkook loves Halloween.

He loves the pumpkin carving and the decorating. Loves the spooky music and the abundance of candy. He loves it, absolutely adores it, and for the second year in a row, he gets to spend it with you! Yet another person he loves very much.

He doesn’t remember ever being this excited for Halloween. Last year, you had roped him into going to some frat party with him, had egged him on, begged so cutely that it was your last year in college, baby until he caved. The two of you had spent the night drinking until you blacked out, Ubering home with your costumes half on, and then unceremoniously fucking in his living room with the blinds wide open.

(The next neighborhood meeting had been very awkward for Jungkook.)

It was his first time ever drinking with you like that, and he vaguely remembers, through his own drunken gaze, how cool you had been. Had absolutely owned a bunch of greasy football players at beer pong in your little sexy nurse costume. And when the crowd cheered your name, shrieked in awe, it had been him that you turned to for praise. “Did you see me, baby,” you had giggled, crowded him against the wall of this random house until Jungkook was sweating profusely. In lieu of a costume, he had worn a silly jogger set with a skeleton design that was supposed to glow in the dark, according to Amazon. You had told him he looked adorable, had kissed and squeezed his cheeks until Jungkook was a flustered mess.

It was still early into your relationship— if Jungkook did the math, you were only about five months in at that point —so he didn’t know how else to cope with the rapid thundering of his heart, the confession sitting on his tongue, the then scary L-word begging to be heard. So, he took you home and fucked you until your little nurse cap slid off your head and you were begging for him to let you cum, thus earning him his first ever offense for violating the neighborhood rules (i.e., traumatizing a group of middle schoolers by fucking in plain sight).

Long story short, Jungkook loves Halloween, and he loves it even more when he gets to spend it with you.

(He’ll never admit it, but he’s a hard romantic. He wants to do cheesy things with you, like cuddle you into his arms when you get scared, pat your head until you can look at whatever is happening on screen again. He wants you to feel safe in his arms, wants to be your refuge when things become too much. He likes to think he’s done a pretty good job so far.)

Jungkook’s plan goes like this:

First, welcome you with that Halloween basket you’ve been sending him tweet links about all month. The cute little Jack-O-lantern candy bucket stuffed with candy and hair ties and a soft Halloween themed blanket. It’s so cheesy, makes him blush when he catches sight of it in his closet, but Jungkook will do anything to please you.

Next, after presenting you with your Halloween gift and having you coo and tell him he’s a good boy, he’ll invite you to break your new soft blanket in. The living room will be prepared with an assortment of your favorite foods, the flat screen ready to play whatever horror movie the two of you settle on.

And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare.

It’s a perfect plan.

It’s the best way to spend his favorite holiday, with his favorite girl by his side and some of his favorite horror films on the big screen. Jungkook spends all of October geeked up for it, even considers hanging up lights around the living room to really set the mood. He’s so excited, can’t wait to spend another wonderful holiday at home with you, that he doesn’t fully realize why you haven’t brought up the long awaited topic of costumes.

“You like?” you ask, standing at the door of his bathroom with a sultry look in your eye, tits practically pouring out of the tight top you’ve wiggled into, skin oiled up scandalously. He fumbles with the fake vampire fang prosthetics he’d been trying to glue in for the better half of an hour.

He had heard the door open downstairs when you got here, had called out his mandatory greeting as he heard you come up the stairs. But none of that had prepared him for the sight of you in… whatever this was.

Jungkook doesn’t really understand exactly what you’re supposed to be dressed up as until the two of you are back downstairs—blinds drawn, full moon slipping in through the cracks—with some random horror movie pulled up on the TV. “I’m Lindsey,” you whine, brand new fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders. It shields your boobs from view, but he’s not sure if that’s a win or a loss. “From Total Drama Island!”

He settles in beside you, doesn’t get too comfortable because it’s nearing sundown now and he knows the herds of children are bound to start flowing in. “Uh huh,” he says mindlessly. His collar feels itchy, the overly-detailed vampire costume he meticulously scoured the internet for being one size too small. You snuggle into his side anyway.

“You don’t know anything about cinematic masterpieces,” you frown, avidly tuned into The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, because apparently you love horror movies all of a sudden, a fact that genuinely throws Jungkook off. He’s not sure what it is about you that had deluded him into thinking you would be a scaredy cat, but he doesn’t take the new bit of information too hard.

The doorbell rings right as the first gorey scene ends and you make a big show of huffing and whining as he rushes to answer it. But it’s only the beginning of the long night that awaits, and, as Jungkook comes to find, running back and forth from the door to the couch is harder than it seems.

Anyway, Jungkook’s neighborhood is a little posh, or ‘bougie’ as you like to claim, and trick-or-treating hours end a little before eleven pm. By then he’s tired, having refused your offer to switch places in fear that your boob might fall out of that scrap of fabric you call a top and earn him his second neighborly offense.

However, that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to your boobs falling out in private.

“Stupid,” you giggle when he gets caught in his long cape, the sound slowly melting into a whimper as he slips his hands beneath your top, fighting with the ridiculous push-up bra you’ve donned tonight. Hands tangle in his hair, mess up the careful side part he’d styled up for tonight, and legs lock around his waist. “Your curtains closed?” you tease.

He huffs, catches your chatty lips with his roughly, presses and presses until your mouth must bruise. He belatedly remembers about those sharp fangs he’d glued on—hey, if he was going to dress up as some gaudy monster it might as well be realistic—and doesn’t realize until he tries to bite your neck and you let out a little yelp. Truthfully, he feels bad right away, but then you’re practically dissolving in his arms so he plays along. “Shh,” he hisses.

The roar of a chainsaw and terrified screams fill the living room, almost drowning out the soft sounds you release by his ear. “O- Or what?” you pant, flinch when he pushes your sad excuse of a skirt up over your waist. “Gonna b- bite me?”

And so Jungkook does.

You shriek. “That hurts, you idiot!” you scold with a tiny whine in your voice, but Jungkook’s cock is so hard. Your tiny, tight outfit does you no favors. Tits in his face, tiny thong against his bulge. He wants to make you sob, litter bites and marks all over your skin until his love makes you ache. You must see the crazed look in his eyes, because you drop the scowl. “Hey,” you say slowly, hand on his chest. “You look like you’re gonna eat me.”

He lets go of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He wonders if you can feel his thundering heart beneath your palm. “Fuck,” he sighs, leaning away to regain his senses. Was it something in the air? Was it the fatigue? The full moon? Why did he want to fold you in half and fuck his cock into you until you were a crying, shivering mess? Something about you tonight, laid out for him to take, makes him feel absolutely insane. Starved and psycho; he just wants to take and take until you don’t have anything more to give. He purses his lips, tries to ignore the hot feeling in his lower abdomen when your hardened nipples register to his eyes. “I think I’m becoming evil.”

Of all the idiotic things his brain can come up with, this one is definitely top five. His cheeks flush right after, fueled by the boisterous laughter that escapes your lips at his statement. “Oh my god,” you gasp in glee, hands falling down beside your head. “You’re becoming evil?’

Jungkook frowns, flopping down on top of you to hide the embarrassment that paints his face. “Shut up,” he mumbles against your neck, warm and safe.

A hand cards through the back of his hair, nails dig lightly into his scalp. “Aren’t you the cutest little vampire,” you coo, seemingly ignoring the rock hard cock Jungkook presses against your thigh. He’s still so horny, has this sick thought that he could just pin you down right here, tear that silly costume to shreds and swallow you up in his lust. But your voice is so sweet, has his eyes fluttering shut as you gather him in his arms. “Silly vampire,” you hum, one leg thrown around his hip, a subtle roll of you hips up into him.

Jungkook huffs, licks a flat strip along the base of your neck. It draws a shaky exhale from you, has your hands digging into his back when he begins to slowly lap against the skin, nibble and tug until your back is deliciously arching up into him. “Wanna push you down,” he confesses quietly, hands securing themselves against your hips as he leans back. You're all dazed, eyes trained on his fanged mouth when he hesitantly adds, “l- little human.”

You could laugh, tease him for his sudden weird need to role play with you, but you don’t. A look of understanding crosses your face, sly smirk slowly following. “Oh?” you grin, hand coming around to cup his cheek. “The little vampire wants to use my body?” Jungkook tightens his jaw at your jab, but nods nonetheless.

You’re a feast before his eyes. Boobs in his face, pussy begging to be filled. You’re his, just like Jungkook is yours. And when you indulge him and his stupid whims—kinks, he should say, occasional interests that sometimes make him question himself—his heart feels warm and full. Proud and unashamed, like the truest version of himself when you look at him with those eyes. And your words only confirm it.

Your hands reach down for your top, pull the flimsy material over your head in one swoop that has your bra coming off with it. It drops to the floor. If it makes a sound, Jungkook doesn’t hear it over the shrieks of terror on screen. the blood deaths, the suspenseful music. All he hears is he hammering of his heart. 

It’s two of your sneaky fingers that come up to play, pinch one nipple tenderly as you meet his eyes. “It’s all yours,” you purr. “I’m all yours.”

And the thirst he feels, well. It’s a little vampiric, to say the least. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[crimeronan]

hello. i followed you for correct leverage opinions, and have continued to do so because the vibes. impeccable. that being said, please tell me about the trc and cdth and the nightmare trauma pals and the other group

omg. okay i'll do my best

the raven cycle by maggie stiefvater is the first series, you'll find a lot of quick and simple summaries of the plot with a google search. there's a girl who can't kiss anyone because she'll kill her true love with a kiss, a boy searching for a dead welsh king in virginia to give his life meaning, a lot of romping around in the woods, etc

but the heart of the story is that it's about these six teens from wildly different backgrounds (though one of them doesn't enter the scene until book 3) falling in love and being Horribly messy about it. the external plot is centered on magic but the internal arcs are all about isolation, mental illness, classism, identity, growing up, growing apart, love as a choice. most of the main cast is desperately trying to save a doomed boy who just wants to make sure all of his loved ones will be okay when he's gone

the ot6 polycule is made up of

the girl who's already grieving the doomed boy because she's seen his future ghost, trying so hard not to let anyone else in on her secret, taking on more trauma and fear by the day as the series progresses

the doomed boy himself, an achingly lonely and extremely privileged kid who wants to do the right thing but always seems to fuck up; he feels he loves everyone more than they'll ever love him

the classic scholarship kid present in any book involving a boarding school, poor with a rough home life, desperately in love with the doomed boy without believing that love actually exists, & sick with terror bc of it

the shouty fighty walking disaster who's just starting to recover from a suicide attempt; found his father's dead body and it's been all downhill from there. nasty and caustic but prone to consistent quiet kindness

the actual ghost who's dependent on magic and the love of his friends to stay corporeal, exhausted, tired of decaying and trapped in a traumatic feedback loop that he can't pull himself out of

the social chameleon who's up to his ears in double identities and the criminal underground and trauma of his own, trying to suss out whether any of the other 5 are trustworthy and whether he can use them to his own ends

all of the interpersonal relationships are STUNNING and dynamic, characters can go from enemies to friends to enemies to lovers over the course of a few books, it's all just. really good

call down the hawk is a sequel to this series, the first book in a trilogy

it's about magic as chronic illness, magic as community, magic as something that wants to kill you but could also save you; you can view all of the character arcs through different lenses of disability, & the main conflict in book 2 boils down to accommodation versus independence for chronically ill people

the nightmare trauma pals are ronan and hennessy. both of them can bring their dreams to life. both have had nightmares try to kill them for years, thanks to their unrelenting ptsd and other illness. they're intensely platonic (ronan is gay) and have all the dynamic messiness of the trc relationships, turned up to eleven

they become best friends almost instantly because of their combined ability to laugh and to call the other on their shit; they're messy because they're awful codependent freaks who are both FAR too sick to truly help the other; ronan is trying to be someone healthy for hennessy despite having no idea what that looks like, so he's making it up as he goes along; hennessy doesn't understand why everything feels awful and ronan isn't helping like he promised and also why he doesn't seem to care that their codependency hurts her

but that's just one of many complex relationships in the series -- another extremely compelling one is between hennessy and jordan, a girl who's "not real" because hennessy dreamed her, but Very Fucking Real insofar as she has interiority and her own motivations and desires and a desperate want to be free. and how hennessy keeps dragging her back because she's so afraid of having to exist without jordan taking care of her

dreamer trilogy is SIGNIFICANTLY darker and more fucked up than the raven cycle, which is why i love it the most. but if you prefer lighter media you might like trc better! also this overview barely touches on, like, anything i have to say about either series. as evidenced by.... the thousands of posts on my blog. but these are the main highlights that i'm In It for!

[neighborhoodparker]

Book: Novitious

Word count: 2,191

Summary: Cedric dies. Cho wasn’t the one dating him.

Drabble, Cut Scene, or Request: Drabble! A version of this may potentially be seen in the books.

She felt like she had been sitting here for hours. The sleek wood seat underneath her rear had grown uncomfortable, so uncomfortable that no matter how much she shifted she was unable to find peace in her lower back and thighs. At this point, she was nearly ready to burst out of her own skin - her whole body was trembling in anxiousness for Cedric, her Cedric. Amos had long ago given up on trying to comfort the young girl. Instead, he had his own worry plastered across his body - shown in the way his right leg continuously brushed up and down against her left, shown in the worn fingernails he had started chewing on, shown in the way his eyes continuously raked across the hedge mass that filled what was once the Quidditch pitch. 

Cedric’s favorite sweater had been pulled over her small frame before they had left the Hufflepuff dormitories to come to the pitch. It was a little big for her, as the sleeves fell past her hands and the left shoulder had slipped down to reveal some of her bare skin. She also had his most favorite, well-worn scarf curled loosely around her neck; he had given it to her as an extra way to keep her calm. The way his scent engulfed her from the clothes did take an edge off of her consuming anxiety, but it didn’t stop her body from shaking uncontrollably. She knew that something was wrong. Her gut was continuously twisting in on itself, making her feel nauseous and light-headed. She swore her heart was beating millions of beats per minute - she almost felt sick from how hot her skin was growing. In an effort to cook herself down, she shoved the sleeves up to her elbows. Her eyes made contact with Amos as she looked at him for the billionth time in the past ten minutes alone.

“He’ll be okay.” Amos whispered, offering her a shaky smile.

She wasn’t sure if he entirely believed the words he was saying to her. His whole posture screamed unease, and the glistening in his eyes was telling her that he felt the same undeniable sense of horror bubbling very deep within his bones. She took a deep, soft breath before forcing herself to return the smile. It felt awkward and out of place on her lips; she knew now wasn’t the time for such pleasantries. She shifted once more, leaning her right side into Neville’s left. He offered her a quick squeeze of her opposing shoulder, but his eyes were transfixed on the hedge looming in front of them. She had to assume the reason she was so anxious was because of everyone around her. Her empathic tendencies were making it way worse than it needed to be. Cedric would be fine. She didn’t think Dumbledore would want to risk losing someone so kind, so good, so strong. He would want him when the war she knew was on the horizon finally collapsed upon their reality. 

Her hand found Neville’s, lacing their fingers together. She had been continuously going back and forth between holding his hand, leaning against him for comfort - and offering her own shoulder for Amos to briefly lean against as new waves of anxiety drowned over him. She had lost track of where her boyfriend was in the maze a while ago; if she was asked, she wouldn’t be able to tell how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity since he and Harry had disappeared within the misshapen claws of the final Triwizard Tournament task. 

After she had grasped his hand, trying not to hold it too tightly, she managed to steal a glance of two forms appearing outside of the maze. Her view was then obscured by the sudden movement of everyone around her; their various builds jumping to their feet in lieu of celebratory noises. The music began to play, but she couldn’t fight the panic that began to build in her chest. It bubbled quickly. It simply started around her heart as it constricted, inching down inside her before it slammed into her lungs - taking all air out of her body as her diaphragm was soon swallowed by what she could only recognize as dread. It quickly spread after, making every inch of her body feel numb. She was caught off-guard; she wasn’t sure why she was experiencing such hysteria. Another deep breath filled her lungs as she noticed Amos was trying to get through the horde that kept him stuck by his seat.

Her body went to follow, but was quickly pulled to a halt. Neville was gripping her hand in a fashion that almost hurt. She met his eyes with confusion - he was filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, like it was a mixture. Dumbledore was yelling at Harry in the background. Every sound made it clear to her that she had been shoved under water, that she was on the verge of drowning in something she hadn’t yet discovered. She realized, with shock, that the emotions he was showing were a mixture of fear, sorrow, and distress. He discovered something she didn’t. Her eyebrows furrowed as she went to follow Amos again and his grip tightened, preventing her from moving.

“Nev, are you crazy? Let me go,” She tugged her arm. “Cedric’s there.”

“Isobel, you can’t go down there.” He stated.

“Neville, let me go.” She pulled against him again, starting to give him a glare.

“Is…” He trailed off.

“Neville. Let. Me. Go.” She demanded. 

Her attention was drawn away from him for a split second, allowing her to see as the crowd around her paused - almost as if they were all involuntarily holding in the same exact breath. He seemed to grip even tighter on her wrist - and she cried out in response. He was trying to keep her from seeing something traumatizing, but was hurting her in the process. She could almost feel the regret of it oozing out of his body. 

“You’re hurting me.” She almost growled, starting to become hysteric as she tried to pull away from him. ”Neville, please let go.”

He refused, but it didn’t matter. In the next second, screams from Amos were filling the air - letting everyone know his anguish in something that had to do with his son. She slammed her foot against Neville’s groin without even thinking. She jerked her hand back as he doubled over in pain but she didn’t stay to make sure he was okay. Her body moved on it’s own as she shoved through the crowd, pushing and shoving to get down the stands, down to where she had briefly seen the outline of Cedric and Harry. 

Someone was calling her name. She couldn’t tell who it was in her state of pure alarm, but if she had glanced back she would have seen Neville moving to grasp Draco’s arm - to hold him back from running to her. It was difficult to get through the mass of students, almost like they were all attempting to block her from getting down to the Diggorys. She could hear the older man sobbing, and she knew that the feeling she had in her gut since she had said goodbye to him wasn’t a mistake. Something awful, terrible, wretched had happened out in the maze. 

She finally broke through the horde, and all anyone could hear was a loud, awful, gut-wrenching shriek. Laying there, in his father’s arms, was the first person she had really loved with her whole heart. And he was pale. Lifeless. His eyes stared blankly at the sheet of stars above him, his chest giving no movement. His father was clinging to him like he was the only thing still anchoring him to the world. The grief she felt yanked her forward; it made her legs collapse, her lungs stall, her eyes widened. She was caught by the rough embrace of someone - nearly taking both of them down to the ground with the blunt force of her anguish. She barely recognized that it was Harry as he pulled her into his chest. He tried to hide her from the heart-breaking sight in front of her - even though he knew it would forever be etched in her mind.

Suddenly she was seven years old again, breaking as Draco’s arms held her. Suddenly, she was back in the home she hadn’t seen in months - back in the manor that she had lost so much of her childhood to. Draco was holding her tightly, almost like he was scared she would sink through the floor and disappear if he didn’t try to hold all of her pieces together. Suddenly, it was her mother splayed out on the marble floor, her spiritless body outlined by a growing crimson puddle. She wasn’t fifteen, collapsed on the field of a Quidditch pitch in the arms of Harry. She was at home, witnessing the cruelty of her father; witnessing her world crashing down around her. She was experiencing a pain she thought nothing could ever beat. Her sobs were filling the large foyer of her father’s home, echoing throughout the empty space that was just so previously filled with screams from her mother, that was filled with Draco begging her to stay back with him. 

And it didn’t matter if she was fifteen or seven. Because her heart broke all the same. The pain in her chest was immense, vast, monumental. It engulfed her. Her heart had been seized out of her chest and thrown at the ground, just before it was stomped, crushed, pulverized underneath the cruel heel of life. She shattered as her brain filtered through a long list of everything she would never get to see through with Cedric, filtered through the myriad of things his father would never live to see, filtered through the life they one day could have had. And she was that fifteen year old collapsed on the pitch. She was the fifteen year old girl struggling to stay afloat as her grief threatened to drown her. She was the fifteen year old girl who had just lost the one thing that had seen her through her darkest moments. 

There she was, wishing the same blond-haired boy was there holding her as her whole world churned, tumbled, disintegrated. But she had a brown-haired boy instead, one with uncontrollable locks and teary eyes hidden behind crooked frames. She took what she was given, accepted that she had lost that blond-haired boy two years ago, accepted that she had Harry. She forced her hands to relieve their tight grip on his jersey before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning her forehead against his shoulder as he hugged her tightly to his shaking form. He was crying right along with her and she wanted to help him, wanted to comfort him and reassure him that everything would eventually be okay. But she didn’t want to lie to him, she couldn’t. She didn’t believe that they would be okay again. Cedric was a loss to the Wizarding World. He was a loss that she didn’t know that she could bounce back from, that anyone could bounce back from. He was a lively, beautiful soul that had offered her a safe haven - he had given so many people hope that things would turn out okay. 

Instead, Harry was here - comforting the girl who was always there for other people. It broke her even more to think of how she was failing to help those she loved, but she couldn’t calm herself down enough to help him out. Her chest was still heaving with panic and, though the tears had stopped, her shoulders still shook from the force of now silent sobs. She was terrified that he would let her go, that he would help her back to her dorm and leave her alone. She didn’t want to be left alone; she hadn’t been since she had first met Cedric, since she had moved in with Sirius. She couldn’t handle this loss. She didn’t know what would happen if she was left alone. 

“Harry, do you think you could carry her? Let’s clear the area. We’ve already got most of the audience out.” A rough, cracking voice spoke up - pulling her attention away from her screeching thoughts.

She only moved to cling more securely to Harry, squeezing her eyes closed as the owner of the voice pulled them off the ground. She didn’t want to get another glimpse of Cedric. It was already carved into her brain. It took her far too long to process that the voice belonged to Mad-Eye Moody, but she didn’t care. She was more worried that Harry would decide she was okay alone and would leave her. Even so, she was more worried about the feeling of dread growing once again in her stomach. It was almost unsaid between the two of them that they knew that Cedric’s death marked the beginning of the war. This would only be the first of many deaths that would completely alter her existence.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Prompt: Skizz discovers Impulse is a traitor early?

well hello there :D hope this is as good as whatever you had in mind! cuz i dont think i got exactly that lol

...

You whisper to impulseSV: We need to talk. ASAP.

Skizz paces back and forth in his room, anxiously waiting for a response. He hasn’t told anyone what he saw yet; even though he knows he probably should, he just doesn’t want to face it. Something inside him is telling him it’s not true, that there has to be a reasonable explanation. He can’t spread this information before he finds out whether or not it’s true.

impulseSV whispers to you: okay, meet me at my villager hole

Skizz jumps into action and rushes out of the building. He doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going, which might be a big mistake.

He runs all the way to Impulse’s villager hole and bursts in through the non-trapped door. But Impulse is nowhere in sight.

Frowning, Skizz spots a trapdoor with a ladder visible under it that wasn’t there before. He carefully climbs down the ladder and finds himself in an almost pitch black underground room, about the same size as the interior of Dogwarts.

Skizz walks out into the middle of the room, looking around in awe.

“Skizz,” comes Impulse’s voice.

“Gah!” Skizz nearly jumps out of his skin. “Don’t do that! Where are you?”

Impulse materialises out of the darkness. “Hey. Did you come alone?”

“Yeah, I did. I gotta talk to you.”

“So talk.”

Skizz takes a deep breath. “I, uh… I saw you earlier today, meeting with the crastle people. I didn’t hear much of what you said, just something about “gaining their trust”. That… Impulse, you’re on our side, right? You’re just pretending to be friends with them?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” replies Impulse easily. Too easily.

Skizz frowns. “Impulse, please tell me it’s not true. Tell me you’re not betraying us for THEM.”

“I’m not betraying anyone,” says Impulse defensively. “You know me; I’m not capable of that. You… do know that, right?”

“I…” Skizz stares at his best friend. “A few hours ago, I’d have said no. But now… I think you’re capable of anything. Tell me the truth, Impulse. Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, of course.”

“You’re doing it again! Switching on the ol’ Impulse charm and saying exactly what the other person wants to hear. You know that doesn’t work on me, buddy. I’ve known you far too long.” Skizz narrows his eyes. “You’re a mole. You pretended to join us but you’re on their side and you’re gonna betray us for them. Am I wrong?”

After a moment, Impulse wordlessly turns away, all but confirming Skizz’s suspicions.

Skizz’s stomach drops. “Oh, god… I trusted you! You- You traitor!”

Impulse sighs. “This is just like you, Skizz: running over here to confront me alone cuz you couldn’t POSSIBLY fathom that you might’ve been wrong about me. Did it ever occur to you that maybe this world changes people? That you can’t truly trust anyone but yourself?”

“No!” Skizz snaps. “I trust Ren and I trust Martyn and Etho and I DID trust YOU!”

“And that’s gonna be your downfall.”

He suddenly shoves Skizz to the ground. Before his friend can react, Impulse brings his foot down hard on Skizz’s ankle.

Skizz screams as they both hear it crack. The pain is immense; it’s definitely fractured, if not broken completely.

“See the thing is, I can’t have you running around blabbing about this to anyone,” Impulse says casually. “But at the same time, I can’t just kill you because that would show up in chat. So I think it’s time I test out my brand new trap and see how deadly it is.”

Tears of pain and anger fall from Skizz’s eyes as he stares into the cold, harsh eyes of the man he used to call his brother. “Wh-Why, Impulse…? Why would you d-do this to me…?”

Impulse just shrugs. “I’m just playing the game, Skizz. Sorry.”

With that, he turns and walks away into the darkness.

“Impulse!” cries Skizz, his vision completely obscured by tears. “IMPULSE! DON’T LEAVE ME! PLEASE!”

He hears the click of a lever being pulled in the darkness, followed immediately by pistons moving. His breathing quickening, he rolls onto his side and pushes himself up, but as soon as he puts weight on his left ankle, he knows he’s not going to be able to use it.

A familiar growl pierces the air, causing him to freeze.

A zombie.

More growls.

A LOT of zombies.

The first one that appears through the darkness nearly gives him a heart attack. He manages to slice it down with his sword, but by then, three more have ganged up on him. Trying to back away, he finds himself completely surrounded by a horde of at least two dozen zombies.

“NO!” he screams. “HELP ME! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!”

The zombies’ claws dig into his skin, and at least two of them manage to bite his arms. Players are able to resist being turned into a zombie through a bite but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Accidentally putting weight on his injured ankle again, Skizz collapses to the ground and curls up in a ball, trying to protect his head and neck. Impulse was clever; he hurt Skizz’s ankle on purpose so he could neither run nor fight for long.

This is it for him. They’re going to kill him.

All of a sudden, a battle yell echoes in the darkness, followed immediately by the sound of zombies taking damage. Multiple zombies taking damage at once. Someone’s come to save him.

The zombies attacking Skizz move away to target this new threat, but they’re no match for whoever it is. Within a minute, all the zombies in the room have been eliminated.

“Skizz!” comes Etho’s voice. “Are you okay?!”

Severely weakened and on the verge of passing out from the pain, Skizz looks up at his friend, unable to muster the words to reply. His vision is swimming, but he can just about see two figures kneeling beside him.

Etho and Martyn. They came to save him.

That’s the last thought in his mind before he passes out.

…

“-is definitely broken. But not like he fell from somewhere and landed on it. More like someone stomped on it until it broke.”

“What?! Who would do something like that?!” “I don’t know. Hopefully Skizz can shed some light on this when he wakes up. Oh my goodness, Ren, you should have seen how many zombies there were. I don’t think it was a coincidence.”

“So… you’re saying someone tried to murder Skizzle? Broke his ankle so he couldn’t get away from the zombies?”

“Yeah, I think so. And we think it was Impulse, too. Etho and I didn’t see anyone else around except him, and the hole was under his villager place as well, so we- Oh, look! I think he’s awake!”

Skizz lets out a quiet groan, his eyes slowly opening. As his vision adjusts to the light, he registers Martyn and Ren by his side, and the interior of his bedroom back at Dogwarts behind them.

“Hey, Skizzles,” says Ren gently. “How are you feeling?”

Blinking slowly, Skizz looks down at his arms and finds them covered in bandages. Beyond them, he can see his ankle elevated in a cast. Nothing hurts anymore, to his relief.

“Alive,” he rasps. “For good or for bad.”

“What happened?” Martyn asks. “Do you remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Skizz tries to suppress a sniffle at the traumatic memory. “It was Impulse. He’s a backstabbing traitor and he tried to kill me to stop me from telling you.”

Ren gasps, but Martyn just shakes his head, an anguished expression on his face. “I should’ve known. There were so many little clues but he explained them away so well, I just…”

“He had us all fooled,” Ren murmurs. “I’m just glad we managed to get to you before he got away with murdering you. If he had, we’d never have known, and we would’ve continued to trust him.”

“How- How did you find me?” Skizz asks. “I didn’t tell you where I was going.”

“Etho and I went looking for you cuz we hadn’t seen you in a while,” replies Martyn. “We just happened to be at Impulse’s villager pen when we heard you screaming. Luckily, Impulse had just left and I don’t think he heard you, or he might have tried to kill us too.”

His upper lip curls in an expression of disgust. “We bumped into him right there and it was like nothing was wrong. It makes me sick to think that he was up there chit-chatting to us about his villagers like everything was fine, knowing full well he’d literally just abandoned you to be murdered by a horde of zombies. That goes beyond 3rd Life; that’s… that’s just pure evil.”

Skizz nods slowly. “Yeah, something’s not right with him anymore. Whoever that was… it’s not my Impulse. Something’s changed him.”

“Well, either way, at least you’re alive and his treachery has been exposed,” Ren says. “And we will take our revenge on him for trying to kill you. As soon as he’s red, we take him down.”

“Why wait?” asks Martyn, frowning. “Why not kill him now, while he’s on yellow?”

“Because if we do, he’ll harbour a grudge and try to take revenge on US for killing him once he’s red. And if yellow life Impulse is THAT dangerous, imagine what he can do on red. It’s better to wait and come up with a plan so when he becomes red, we can take him out immediately and prevent further carnage.”

A shiver runs down Skizz’s spine. It feels horrible to be discussing killing his best friend when they had been so close only hours before. Despite everything Impulse has done, he doesn’t actually want him to die. He still loves his brother, no matter what.

Even though he’d love nothing more than to punch him in his stupid face right now.

“Skizz?” says Martyn softly. “You okay?”

Skizz clears his throat. “Y-Yeah. I think I will be.”

Eventually.

[maybebanks]

Love, Not War

JJ Maybank x pogue! reader

based on outerbanks episode The Forbidden Zone where Rafe and Topper jump Y/n and Pope on a grocery run. If only it was possible to keep JJ from finding out

⚠️: assault and swearing

“Y/n what do you say?” Pope encouraged. He gave you an awkward smile, as his dad handed him a grocery bag for each hand.

“Sure, why not,” you shrugged, hopping on to Heyward boat.

“I promised delivery by this afternoon. Thanks, Y/n,” Heyward smiled.

“If she’s going then I’m comin’ too,” JJ added reaching out to Heyward as he gave JJ two bags, JJ lazily dropped them as if they were heavy.

“Rich people don’t want to wait for you lazy sons of.. Aw, thank you, JJ,” Heyward said sarcastically.

You rolled your eyes at JJ, he just smirked.

“Great,” you groaned.

“What? You think I’d let you get all the sweet tips?” JJ defended, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest.

You pushed him back, “get off of me. I’m sick of you following me around. I can literally never catch a break,”

JJ looked slightly offended, but he brushed it off, “I’m not following you. I just need the cash. Chill,”

“Pope?” You asked, “let’s get a move on,” you tried to ignore JJ. But you felt him closing in on you at any moment of independence. John B kept telling you that JJ just wanted to protect you. You had no idea why, and when you confronted JJ about it he just denied.

When you arrived at a Figure Eight dock, JJ hopped off and held out a hand for you, you reluctantly accepted.

“Alright so, there’s a few deliveries my dad already completed...” Pope mumbled.

JJ interrupted, “Just get on with it Pope, where do you want Y/n and I to deliver-“

“Wait hold up! I’m not going with you,” you said to JJ.

“Why not?” he asked, completely surprised.

“I’m going with Pope. We’ll take the golf course route, right? The one that we did last week,” you mentioned.

Pope nodded, “sure, Y/n,”

“Awe come on...Fine,” JJ groaned, “your loss,”

You felt relieved as you grabbed a carton of milk and a bag of groceries. Pope nodded you over to him and you both split off from JJ, saluting him goodbye.

You and Pope walked for about five minutes, “it doesn’t even look like the storm hit here,”

“Lucky kooks,” you muttered.

Before Pope could agree, you heard the all to familiar taunting of Rafe Cameron.

“Hey, what’s up guys? Y/n, lookin’ hot as ever! And Pope, why don’t you share some of those beers!” Rafe shouted. Approaching the both of you with Topper.

You and Pope tried to walk past them, but they blocked your path with their golf clubs, “how much for one of those beers?” Rafe chuckled, but he was serious.

When you opened your mouth, it was dry, and you couldn’t make a snarkey comeback.

“They’re not for sale,” Pope told them stepping back.

Rafe smirked and eyes you up and down. You ignored him and tried to continue walking.

Rafe then grabbed your shoulders, “Wait, wait, wait.”

“Rafe, we don’t want any trouble,” you said, pushing his hands off.

He scoffs, “don’t want any trouble? You here that, Top? Pogue Princess doesn’t want trouble!” Rafe joked. He called you pogue princess as a nickname since grade school.

“I’m serious, get out of our way,” you ordered, clinging tight to the bags of groceries in your hands.

“We just want some beers,” Topper said, pulling on what Pope was holding.

“These are already paid for!” Pope argued as he struggled with Topper.

Topper yanked them away from him, sending Pope tumbling in the sand, “you guys are frickin crazy!” He shouted.

“Pope!” You exclaimed as you stepped foreward to help him. As you reached over, Rafe stepped infront of you and swung his golf club in the air.

You flinched at the fact that he almost hit you and lost balance, falling away from Pope on the sand.

Rafe’s club collided with Popes back, and he yelled in pain.

Quickly you got up, “stop it, you asshole!” You screamed at Rafe, punching him in the face from the side.

He was taken aback for sure, but not harmed enough, “you think you can order us around, on our turf, pogue!”

He turned and shoved your shoulders, pushing you to the ground.

Then he stood over you, a foot on either side of your waist.

You groaned in pain as his shadow towered over you, “I never thought I’d get this chance,” he mumbled, looking down at you, studying your every feature.

You ignored him, looking over at Pope, topper wasn’t beating him anymore, but there was blood in his mouth.

While you were distracted, Rafe started to make a pass at you, his hands moved up your shirt, and groped your chest.

You squirmed, “what the-“ you fought against him. Creating a small wave of dust from the sand.

Rafe’s large hand caressed your cheek, “It’s gonna feel so good to get with Maybank’s girl,”

“Wha- I’m not his you bastard!” You screamed, punching his leg.

He laughed, then got down to his knees, trapping you beneath him.

“Get off!” You screamed, shoving against his shoulders. Rafe grabbed your wrists and pinned them by the sides of your head.

“Dirty ass pogue,” he spit.

“Shit!” Topper noticed your screaming and was surprised by what Rafe was doing, “Dude, what are you doing, man?!”

“Just...” he breathed, “having fun with my favorite Pogue!” He chuckled, moving one hand to lift your shirt.

You felt sick as the material slid up your waist.

“Rafe,” Topper said uneasily, “Rafe, man, knock it off!”

Rafe didn’t listen, and Pope was now starting to force himself to stand.

“Come on! Let’s go Rafe! Seriously!” Topper exclaimed.

Rafe looked at you again, then he scratched his neck and spit right down on you. And slowly stood up, joining Topper and grabbing his club.

“We don’t want you over here. You got that? Stay off figure eight pogues!” Rafe ordered, chuckling as Topper continued to tell him it was time to leave.

“See ya!” Rafe shouted, heading up the hill.

Topper was breathing heavily, he stared at you, still on the floor, as you fixed your shirt.

His mouth parted as if he was going to say something.

“Top, let’s go! Hey, let’s go!” Rafe shouted.

You struggled to control your breathing.

Topper glanced at Pope again before leaving. When they were finically out of sight, you got up to see Pope.

His cries were in pain and he was still lying on his back, you grabbed his head and told him to spit the blood out.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. You’ll be okay,” you grabbed his hat and put it on his head, then slowly helped him stand.

“Let’s just go home,” Pope said, putting his arm around you as you helped him walk back to the dock.

You were every bit as traumatized as him, but your solution was to bury it deep. Try not to dwell on it, at least until the time came. This wasn’t the best method to deal with your pain, but it was better than having everyone know about the sick bullshit you just went through.

You and Pope got to the boat, he sat in the drivers seat. Just staring off straight into space.

“Hey, start the boat,” you mentioned.

He didn’t want to talk much, “JJ,” was all he said.

“Shit,” you muttered. You didn’t want to see JJ right now. There were so many reasons.

“Pope, hey, Pope. You can’t tell JJ about this. Please. Okay? None of the Pogues. Not Kie or John B either,” you rambled.

Pope didn’t answer, but before you could insist, you flinched at the sudden sound of yelling.

“Y/n! Pope! You’re not going to belive what just happened to me! Whoo! That was the best 100 bucks I’ve ever made! When I say count me in on all these grocery deliveries, Pope, I mean it,” JJ exclaimed happily. He winked when he saw you sitting in the back, you just pursed your lips in response.

“What’s up with you?” JJ asked when Pope didn’t answer, “Bro, you good?”

Your heart ached to say something, to tell Pope to keep his mouth shut. But would that make you look even more suspicious?

JJ looked at you, and then back at Pope, leaning in closer and inspecting him, “Yo,” he paused, “what happened to your face, dude,” JJ asked, then he reached for Popes hat, covering part of the damage.

Pope tried to stop him, but JJ saw enough, “Jesus!” JJ expressed, looking at you now.

“What happened?” JJ demanded.

Pope’s eyes remained on the water.

JJ clenched his jaw. Looking from you to Pope again and again.

Before you could lie, say something, anything, Pope deadpanned, “Rafe and Topper jumped me,”

JJ looked back, his jaw still clenched. You could tell he was angry, “Did they get Y/n?” He asked Pope.

“They said no pogues on their side of the island,” Pope said, steering the boat towards home.

JJ scoffed, “Y/n are ya hurt?” JJ asked, stepping closer.

“No. I’m fine JJ. Back off,” you warned, getting up and moving to the open part of the boat.

JJ felt defeated, and angry, “you better not lie to me Y/n!” He shouted at you.

“Lie to you?! You’re the fucking liar!!” You screamed, only part of your volume getting lost in the wind.

“Me? ‘Fuck did I do?!” JJ shouted.

“If you hadn’t pulled that gun...” Pope started.

“You seriously gonna blame this shit on me! Yo, Topper was gonna drown-“ JJ retaliated.

Pope interrupted him, “Look, were not gonna talk about this now,”

JJ clenched his jaw, “This is war.”

You could’ve argued with JJ more, you wanted to know what he had done to convince Rafe that you were “Maybank’s girl”, but you closed the bottle your emotions lived in, and were silent the whole rest of the day.

-

You took a deep breath as you stared at JJ across from you.

The earlier events were playing in your mind like an endless loop. You knew Rafe’s motivation for doing it, but why did he call you “Maybank’s girl”? Why did he have to bring JJ into it? Did it have anything to do with the fact that recently JJ has been hovering over you like-

“Y/n what is up with you?” John B asked you as you sat on his couch, watching the pogues talk about whatever they usually did.

You shrugged, taking a drag of a blunt JJ made.

“Maybe JJ knows,” Kie suggests, tapping John B on the shoulder.

“Ugh,” you groaned, there was so much you wanted to say to JJ, or yell at him.

“JJ?” John B asked, pointing to you.

“Beats me. She’s been acting like a bitch ever since...uh ever since she called me a liar. She’s the one who’s lying! I mean look at her! Telling us she’s fine,” JJ tells him.

“God, JJ! You are such an asshole!” You screamed, getting up and throwing your hot blunt right at him.

“Jes- What the fuck? You can’t just throw a lit blunt at me!” JJ shouted.

“And YOU can’t go around telling people I belong to you!” You shouted, instantly regretting what you said.

“What the hell is happening?” Kiara pointed out.

“Who the fuck told you that?” JJ questioned, slightly softer now.

“No one. Whatever. I’m leaving,” you stated, heading towards the door.

“You’re just gonna walk away?!” JJ shouted.

“Yeah I am! I can’t deal with you right now,” you groaned, opening the door.

Instantly, JJ was beside you, he slammed the door closed, preventing you from leaving, “we need to talk,” he said.

“No we don’t. Let me go,” you pleaded, “I don’t have anything to say to you,”

JJ scoffed, looking away from you for support from the rest of the group.

“Y/n he’s gonna find out soon enough...” Pope interjected.

“Pope! Shut your mouth.” You demanded, at this, pope adjusted his hat in nervousness.

Kie looked at you with frustration, “stop taking out whatever your going through on us!”

“Fine! I’ll leave!” You exclaimed.

Shoving JJ harshly off of the door.

Taken aback, he stumbled. He looked extremely hurt, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. You opened the door, slamming it on the way out, and left the chateau.

-

You stopped at the pantry and grabbed something to drink before heading up to your room.

You were mad and needed to blow off some steam, being home alone helped that.

You sauntered up the stairs and opened the door to your room, it was dark in there so you turned backwards and found the light switch.

When you turned around, you practically screamed when you saw JJ on your bed.

“What the fuck,” you muttered, annoyed.

“I thought we needed to talk,” JJ started.

“Yeah and you also thought 9+10 was 19,” you joked, groaning as you collapsed on the bed next to where JJ was.

“Y/n I’m serious,” JJ added.

“So am I.” You responded.

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s...what you meant before,” JJ stuttered, he didn’t really know exactly what he expected from this.

“You’re not listening,” you mumble.

“Fine. I’ll listen,”

“Okay. Then go. Leave me alone. I don’t need this. I’m sick of it. And you’re the fucking reas...okay just um please leave,”

“I’m not going to let you push us away. I’m staying. And I’ll be here, if you’ll talk to me,” JJ said kindly. He was almost pleading.

“I’m scared.” You blurted.

JJ’s eyebrows furrowed, “scared of what?”

You sat up, looking at the floor, “um..how you’ll react,”

“Y/n. What is it you need to tell me,” JJ says.

“Look...uh...have you been telling kooks that we’re dating, that I’m yours?” you asked, staring him directly in the eyes.

JJ broke the eye contact, “I thought...uh..I thought it would keep them off your back,”

“What?! Oh my god I’m gonna kill you! You’re such an idiot!” You groaned.

“Why?” He added a slight chuckle, “it worked didn’t it?”

You frowned, at that’s when JJ knew. Something was more wrong than what he thought.

“Who? Was it Rafe? It was wasn’t it! Today, with Pope! Rafe fucking hit you didn’t he!”

“JJ! Calm down! He didn’t,” you told him.

“No use in lying.” JJ stated.

“He just said some things. That’s all! I swear,” you plead.

“What’d he say? Hm?” JJ asked, clearly provoked.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you...”

“See the thing is...you didn’t fucking tell me anything!” JJ exclaimed.

“Fine! Okay. Calm down though,”

JJ nodded.

“He said “it’s gonna feel so good...to get with Maybank’s girl.” I- Idon’t know I don’t really remember,” you told JJ.

JJs mind went to all sorts of places, was it his fault. It was a protective mechanism, telling those kooks that you were his. But turns out it was just a way to get a rise out of him.

He could feel his heart rate quicken.

“JJ, hey, JJ please calm down. I’m right here. He didn’t get me. Topper didn’t let him,” you said.

“So...so he would’ve...he would’ve uh...” JJ trailed off, almost loosing breath, “Y/n he’s gonna pay for that. This war is not fucking over,”

“No. No JJ. Please stop. He didn’t do it. So you don’t have to worry. This isn’t an excuse to start another battle. You need to be done,” you demanded.

“I’m not going to be done! He tried! And I wasn’t there! I’m always there! And yet he still found a way,”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you suggested.

JJ took a sharp deep breath, “so what are you saying? You don’t want me around?”

“JJ...” you trailed off.

You saw JJ’s eyes water, he then blinked rapidly, and threw his red hat over his head as a distraction.

Once he blinked all the tears away, he stood up.

“Wait...don’t-don’t leave,” you sighed, grabbing his bicep gently.

“I have something to do anyway,” he shrugged your hand off, walking out the door.

You wanted to say something again, to call after him, but the only sound that came out was a sob. And you fell to the floor, a hand pressed against the cold bedroom door.

-

JJ could only hear his footsteps as he walked against the pavement, or rather, individually arranged stones, it was a kook house after all.

JJs mind wasn’t clear, he didn’t exactly know why he was at Toppers door. He just hoped he could get more of an explanation than he did from you.

Toppers mother answered the door, “Can I help you?” She asked impatiently.

“I need to talk to Topper. Is he home?” JJ asked.

The woman eyed him up and down. Judging his outfit and his demeanor.

“I will send him out,” she muttered, slight disgust in her tone.

JJ shuffed in his boots while he waited. And when the door opened again, and he saw Toppers gelled blond head, his eyes lit up.

“What do you want?” Topper demanded, his arms folded over his chest, “you got a lot of nerve comin’ here, man,”

“We need to talk. You need to tell me exactly what the hell happened to Y/n today,” JJ asserted.

“Aw look dude, I had no idea Rafe was gonna do that, man. I swear on my life,” Topper assured.

“What. Happened.” JJ persisted.

“Rafe just got on top of her and shit. She was violated for sure. But I stopped him before he did anything serious,” Topper explained.

“So...uh...you stopped him from touching her?” JJ asked, surprising Topper by how much he cared.

“Yeah man, I know she’s like your girl and stuff, Rafe was being a dick honestly,”

“This kind of thing won’t happen again,” JJ threatened, before quickly turning his back and leaving The Eight.

-

JJ sat on a rock near the swampy wasteland John B’s place over looked.

Kie approached him, “hey...I know things are not going well with Y/n. And I know you love her-“

“I don’t want to hear it Kiara. I just want to think,”

“About what?”

“About what I’m going to say to Y/n. I don’t even know where to start. I mean..do I apologize? And for what?”

“Oh,” Kie paused, “I think you should just be there for her. Don’t push her, just be yourself. But you know...less um protective,”

“I don’t want her to tell me what to do. I know if I go over there she’s gonna try and stop me from kicking Rafe’s ass,” JJ groans.

“Maybe she has a good reason,” Kie supported.

“Just talk to her, okay? Just be there for her. She needs you,”

“She doesn’t make it seem that way,” JJ groaned.

“It’s because she’s a lot like you. Hiding her pain. You’re the perfect person for her. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

[blackgirlsuperherorants]

I deleted last night's personal post, but I have had time to think and I'm ready to talk about it, again. If anyone has experience with narcissists, please chime in, because I'm convinced my brother legitimately has NPD.

These are the signs:

Centers himself at the expense of others.

No empathy. None. Like, my Dad sobbed "He wants me dead" and "*brother's name* hates me" and he doesn't care and is unmoved. Even walking around happily like he got what he wanted. Mind you, my dad JUST got out of the hospital on Christmas Eve and has pneumonia. (He said "If he dies, it won't be my fault. Dad made poor food choices his entire life." ... Pneumonia isn't caused by fatness, my Dad isn't fat, and my brother is a former fat kid, so it's sick that he'd even say something so callous.)

Plays the victim even while actively causing harm, and frames himself as righteous for the pain he is inflicting.

Uses eternal victimhood to get what he wants from my mother, who desperately loves him and would do anything for him, then flips on the entire family when he doesn't get his way (Dad asked him to return their second car back in October.)

Silent treatment for months so he can make someone confront him and then proudly announce that he is doing it because he's "setting a boundary" against the family, even though he lives in my parents' house. (Took this so far that my dad was in the hospital and he would go sit in the hospital room with my dad when no one else was there and purposefully not speak to him for hours. My dad was cognitive and able to speak the whole time, and me and my other siblings would go and keep him company. He stole time we could have had just to show my dad that he still wouldn't talk to him. Like an asshole.)

Accusing people of being abusive and irrational for having emotional responses to his mistreatment of them.

Accusing our oldest brother of being abusive for begging him to speak to him on Christmas day. (Our oldest brother has 2 kids who are teen and young adult, he's never even spanked them, doesn't really yell at them, nothing. They're both well adjusted, and his son, who is a few years younger than me, has a salaried job at a mortgage company and he's only 23.)

Very all or nothing. Very "you're either good or a monster". He pretends not to remember heartfelt conversations my Dad, my Mom and I have had with him. Only pretended our second oldest brother was good because he was trying to be on his side (he doesn't live in the same state and barely has contact with narc brother, so hasn't experienced any of this.) Refuses to see my Dad as good, because he's framed Dad as the monster, and me and my Mom are now bad because we don't hate my Dad with him.

Frames himself as more enlightened than everyone else and refuses to take responsibility for the pain he causes, or even care about us.

Embellishes how awful we have always treated him and even slanders us to his friends (which I've always suspected... and didn't have proof of until he started telling me that I treated him poorly, when I've spent most of my life desperately trying to make him happy, all while feeling his disdain towards me.) Also uses this to make you feel like you have to do things for him because he's so traumatized and hurt. He's also gay (I'm bisexual, btw) and uses it as a weapon, which is so gross. My parents accepted him like 15 years ago. My siblings and I are Gen-X and Millennials, and so are already super pro-LGBTQ+. Even though my other siblings are heterosexual. Like, our second oldest brother makes pro-LGBTQ TikToks (as well as other social justice stuff.) Our oldest sister is the first person he came out to and has been in his corner from the beginning. But he still uses this as some kind of leverage "You guys never accepted me! I'm always treated differently!" ??? Literally no? And I've called him out before for treating me like a homophobe when I've been out since I was like 19, but he still uses that shit to manipulate sympathy. My parents LET HIS BOYFRIEND SPEND THE NIGHT. IN HIS ROOM. They wouldn't even let my straight siblings do that with their opposite sex partners, because they didn't want him to think they didn't approve of him having a boyfriend. But I digress.

I spent last night begging him to let me have a relationship with him, but afterwards, I realized that that's how manipulative, abusive boyfriends act. They want you to plead with them to love you. And I started to realize he was showing what seem like signs of narcissism.

Does ANYBODY have any advice, or has anyone experienced this? Most people talk about narcissistic parents or partners. But what about siblings? I don't want him around my parents. I don't want to speak with him ever again. He's still in their house, but swears he's leaving. I don't want to know someone who says "If he dies he dies" about my father, and who invents a false abuse story (he told us that my Dad would come home from work in a rage and beat everyone. Y'all. My Dad literally never did that. Never. And he NEVER hit my Mom. We had a relatively fun childhood. I don't know how to make it clear that this is made up so that he can play the victim. It's like he saw this in a movie or on TV and was like "yeah, my Dad did that." I'm almost sure he believes it, too.)

I also feel like he's trying to blame his lack of success on my parents. He tried to say all of my Dad's 5 kids are failures. It's literally not true. We're all doing pretty well, and even when we've struggled, we've been pretty resilient. Between us we have 3 BAs, 1 MFA, 1 JD, 1 cosmetology license. He's literally the only one that hasn't settled on a path or even completed undergrad (my oldest sister did cosmetology instead of college, but she also finished!!!)

I mean... is this narcissism? Is it just lashing out? Either way, I'm not going to talk to him again.

[writteninsunshine]

Heaven’s A Lie - Lucas Baker/Ethan Winters - NSFW

Title: Heaven’s A lie

Author: Reno

Fandom: Resident Evil 7: Biohazard

Setting: Baker Family Estate

Pairing: Lucas Baker/Ethan Winters

Characters: Lucas Baker, Ethan Winters, Mia Winters, Zoe Baker, Jack Baker

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Romance

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 1376

Type Of Work: One-Shot, Part of the For All These Times series, Whump Fic Bingo fill #1

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Non-Con Kissing, Gore, Blood, Vomit, Sick Fic, Comfort From Whumper, Whump Fic Bingo, Trauma, Traumatic Experiences, Canon-Typical Violence, Mostly Canon Compliant

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

Summary: The last thing that Ethan needed was Lucas’s comfort, but that didn’t mean he was going to deny him. He didn’t have it in him to fight right now.

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have a writing Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD If you want it, please contact me on Twitter!

So, I was looking for a good whump fic bingo I could use for Ethan, since that man can take a beating like no one else. I didn’t find one I liked, so I made one myself. Requests are open for it, and only three slots are taken out of twenty-five, so please give it a look? People on FFN can PM me for the link or search HimboHungry on Twitter. It’s under my pinned! Warning, it’s a NSFW twitter.

Here we go: https://twitter.com/HimboHungry/status/1391276875415269379

With that, here goes nothing!

Resident Evil Fic Masterlist

Ethan Whump Bingo Fic Masterlist

Heaven’s A Lie

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was no fighting it, now. Fatigue crept into every fiber of his being, and his eyes could barely stay focused and open. Pain wracked his body, and there was a distinct collection of saliva in his mouth, leaving him nearly drooling as he gasped for air like a man drowning, lost at sea.

0Heaving shoulders and a lurch in his stomach had Ethan crumpling to the grass, hands and knees bracing him against the dewy turf. The humidity of the swamp around them didn’t help the sweat dripping from his face, broken pants bursting from his nose. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to breathe out of that. With a painful heave, he gagged, coughed impossibly hard, and spilled the contents of his stomach all over the ground in front of him. It splashed against his arms, staining the sleeves of his shirt and hitting his face; he would have grimaced if he wasn’t otherwise occupied. Nothing but acid left him, as he hadn’t eaten in God knew how long. Dehydration was going to set in soon and only make the pounding in his head that much worse. Blood pumped loud and harsh in his ears, his vision swam and he felt another dry heave coming on. 

For a moment, he begged any God listening to end this torture, but his ardent pleading fell on deaf ears. Nothing reached out to save him, and death was still lightyears away. How could he still be kicking after all of this? Every injury, every removal of his limbs. Jack had seen to it that he wouldn’t die, he thought, and that was the most shocking education he’d ever had.

Eyes watery and nose dripping over his lips after six more emissions, he staggered back to his feet. Swaying for a few seconds, he scrubbed at his face, smearing the tears and mucus up his cheeks, trying to regain control over himself. He had to get to the barn that Lucas was hiding away in, he had to save Mia, himself, and Zoe. That was his main focus, the only driving force to keep him going right now. A one-track mind helped in this situation, and he stumbled forward, the light peeking out from under the door a beacon showing him where to go next. Would this kill him? Maybe. The heaviness in his arms wasn’t helped by the gun in his hand, his arms nearly limp as he fought against the weakness in his knees.

Not paying attention to where he was going, lumbering ever forward, a sudden shout left him and he plummeted to the ground hard. No time to catch himself, the biting pain in his leg too much for him to handle on such short notice, his face hit the mud hard enough to bruise his cheek. With the wind knocked from his lungs, he lay there in agony for a long moment, eyes screwed shut as he tried to catch his breath.

Once he could wrap his mind around filling his lungs again, his eyelids lifted and fell sluggishly as he pushed himself up off the ground halfway, hips still glued down. Turning to look at his right leg, Ethan winced at the sight of barbed wire looped around his ankle, a thin, short leash of it tied to a stake in the ground. It looked like the kind screwed down, meant to keep a dog in the yard. That was him, now, wasn’t it? A dog trapped in a yard that wasn’t his, kept by someone intent on keeping him. Tears leaked down his face again, his nose a snot faucet, the fire in his face unable to compare to the tight grip ripping into his flesh.

Footsteps alerted him to a presence, and he grabbed the shotgun not far from his hands. They quivered as he looked up, expecting a molded to be coming for him in his hour of darkness. Forcing himself to sit up on his hip, he leveled the gun on Lucas, surprised to see the other man out of his control room.

“Aw, look at you, Ethan…” Lucas chuckled, his grin splitting his face nearly in half, “Caught like a coyote in a trap.” 

Ethan was hyper-aware of Lucas’ southern drawl, ‘cai-yote’ leaving his lips, and he clicked another bullet into the gun in his hands.

“Now, now, no need for that,” Sauntering over, Lucas pried the shotgun from Ethan’s hands with more ease than the injured man wanted to admit to, and he watched as Lucas set it aside. Apparently, he had more sense than to simply throw it, and Ethan recognized that all too well. Self-preservation, at best, but at least Ethan wasn’t going to get shot.

“Fuck off.” Ethan managed, his voice wavering, cracking as Lucas kneeled down to take Ethan’s chin in his filthy hands.

“You ain’t in any position to tell me what to do, now, are ya, Ethan?” Lucas shook his head with a happy chortle, leaning in quickly enough that Ethan was stunned, stuck in place.

Dry, cracked lips met his in a violent kiss, and he tasted blood, snot, salt, and bile as Lucas’ tongue strong-armed its way into his mouth. A disgusted grunt left him as Lucas plundered his mouth, taking from him what he wanted and leaving no room to struggle against his advances. Ethan was exhausted, in too much pain to fight him as Lucas tugged him forward by his armpits, straining the limited reach of the barbed wire lacerating his skin. Another cry of pain left him when Lucas bit into his lip hard enough to split his plump, chapped flesh, leaving a trail of blood down his chin.

“There you go, Ethan… Look so good like this.” Lucas was nearly purring in excitement, blood thrumming through his system, “Want to make you mine.” His whispers against Ethan’s lips almost left him bereft, but he was sure he was past that point, now.

“Wh-wh-what do you want, Lucas?” His tone wasn’t as rough, wasn’t as spiteful as he’d wanted, but Ethan had to take whatever he could get at this point. Spitting at him, Ethan glared as hard as he could with= his wet eyes and watery, almost stern frown. 

“Don’t go playing hard to get, now, Ethan. It’s unbecomin’. You’re dependent on me to get you outta this, ain’tcha? You oughta be nicer to me.” Lucas’s smarmy smile almost made Ethan sick again, he felt his stomach railing against his insides, bile rising in his throat.

Another rough kiss met his mouth, his blood mingling with Lucas’s saliva, staining both of their teeth pink. Suddenly, Ethan shoved at him, unsure when he cared not to give him his ire. God knew Lucas deserved it. Turning just enough to feel safe in this moment of weakness, a few dry heaves soon produced more stomach acid to slap on the ground, splattering more against his chest and arms.

“Can’t handle yourself no more?” Lucas asked, absently rubbing Ethan’s back as he spilled his stomach contents again, eyes red and puffy from tears and throat hoarse. Quivering, he leaned into Lucas’s touch, hating himself for wanting the comfort he provided. Elbows buckling, he did his best to fall to the side that his vomit wasn’t on, shocked to find Lucas scooting forward and sitting down cross legged.

Yanking Ethan into his lap, he held him close, wiping at his face and sweaty forehead.

“Pushin’ you too far, baby boy?” Lucas asked softly, his voice almost tender and eyes soft as he took in the sheer amount of pain in his face. Ethan nodded vaguely, eyelashes fluttering against his bruised cheekbones. Lucas was right. If he’d stayed away, he wouldn’t be suffering like this. On the other hand, Mia would have been, and he couldn’t find it in himself to give up on her. Eyes sunken in, he looked like he might pass out, and Lucas took pity on him. Reaching for the shotgun, he held it up above Ethan’s oblivious head, his eyes closed to the world, before slamming it down against his temple as hard as he could.

The world swam for a moment, Ethan’s vision hot and white for just a second before everything went dark.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: Welp, I feel like this vaguely covers another part of the whump bingo, but I’m not going to count it because the theme is still being caught in a snare. At any rate, I hope you guys enjoyed the ouchies. I had fun writing this! It’s partially a vent piece, as a lot has been happening lately and it’s driving me crazy not getting it out.

Prompt: Caught In A Snare

[plasticnightmaredoll]

This is an idea/scenario I’ve had for a good while now pertaining to Arkham Knight Riddler. I don’t know if it’s any good -- it may be too “fluffy” to be in character -- but I wanted to write it down and get it out there, see what people think. Ironically, the idea came from a similar one involving Telltale Riddler, and I may post that one someday, too, but this AK Riddler one is...very different. Different in regards to a lot of headcanons, imagines, drabbles, etc. about him.

So, the scenario is like this: Someone wants to fuck with this poor guy -- not Batman, not one of the Bat family, not even one of the Gotham Rogues. It could be some random new villain, someone who is maybe more sadistic than any of the Rogues (save for Joker). I thought about this antagonist kidnapping AK Eddie’s s/o and holding them hostage …

But with a twist.

Catwoman has nothing to do with this because she’s not evil, but I thought about the explosive collar Riddler put on her in Arkham Knight, and what if this antagonist -- to really mess with Eddie -- decides to put such a collar on his s/o? And Riddler has to show up and complete some tasks (dangerous puzzles and riddle-based traps most likely), or else, his s/o loses their head.

Of course, Eddie shows up because he’s panicking. This was never supposed to happen! Nothing was supposed to happen to his s/o. This is beyond anything Batman had ever done. This is so sinister, so vile, so abhorrent, Eddie can’t even begin to comprehend it. At first, he bargains, offering money, tech, robots, his hacking skills -- even offers himself up to wear the collar instead because he can’t take the sight of his beloved wearing something that could blow their head right off, right in front of him, and leave him emotionally and mentally broken for life.

But the antagonist doesn’t want to bargain, even when Eddie begs -- like, really begs to the point of tears, asking for mercy and pleading with the antagonist to let his s/o go free. They have nothing to do with any of Eddie’s work. They’re innocent, and they’re too important to him! He can’t let this happen!

The begging amuses the antagonist but once again, it’s not enough. Eddie has to do the challenges, and if he completes them all correctly, the collar comes off. If he messes up, then his s/o dies. Eddie reassures his s/o that everything will be just fine, he’s got this under control, they’ll be out of trouble in no time so don’t be afraid.

It’s difficult to not be afraid when you have a bomb around your neck and a sadistic psychopath with the trigger. As bad as Eddie can be, he’s not THIS malevolent. He has some humanity left in him. But this person, they’re just out there to make him suffer because it’s “entertaining” to watch him squirm. 

As you know, by this point in his life, Eddie is very mentally unstable and could have a mental breakdown if pushed even just a little too far. His s/o is the only thing keeping him grounded, the only reason he has to keep his sanity (or what’s left of it), and this is the only person who has ever cared for him despite the fact he knows he’s not worth it. If he loses his beloved, then what would he have left? There would be no recovery from such a thing.

So, Eddie completes the challenges, although he is internally freaking out the entire time, partly because he doubts himself and partly because he has no idea if the antagonist will just press the trigger and kill Eddie’s s/o without warning. By the time Eddie is done, he’s a nervous wreck and on the verge of a breakdown, but he hopes that, by enduring all this, by letting this person watch him squirm, sweat, beg, cry, and panic, that maybe it’s enough to end this madness without his s/o dying.

But the antagonist doesn’t care that Eddie completed all the tasks. In the end, it’s about making Eddie suffer horribly because watching a nearly broken man finally break -- shatter -- is the point of all this. So, the collar has a 30 second timer set, and as it counts down, Eddie obviously freaks out, hyperventilating as he tries to plead once again for his s/o’s life, offering himself up again in their place, and yet, it’s not enough (kind of reminding him how he was never enough for his father, even if he agonized over pleasing him). The antagonist just laughs at Eddie’s mental breakdown and tells him he better use the remaining time to say goodbye. And no funny business. If Eddie or his s/o attempt to remove or disarm the collar, then it will detonate. 

Eddie’s s/o, despite being terrified does their best to put on a brave face and they tell him it’s ok, it’s not his fault, just don’t look, look away, it will all be over soon, he has to keep going for them...Eddie doesn’t know what to do, and seeing as he now has 10 seconds left, he does the only thing he feels he can and should do, and he grabs his s/o despite their protests and holds them tight, crying and saying over and over how sorry he is, he’s so sorry. 

And the timer reaches zero on the collar.

There’s a soft click.

Then nothing.

No explosion. 

The antagonist bursts out laughing, confessing that the “bomb” is a dud, was never going to explode, and since both Eddie and his s/o were too distressed to think all this through, they never even considered this as a possibility. The collar has been unlocked and Eddie’s s/o just kind of sinks to their knees in complete shock, and he can’t believe what he’s seeing. At first, he’s confused, wondering if this is all some sort of twisted dream, then he’s relieved because his s/o is safe, then he’s angry because what the hell was this?! He vows to get revenge on the antagonist and throws the collar away as he all but screams in rage.

Now alone, Eddie remembers his s/o is still on the floor, pale as a sheet and unresponsive. Kneeling down, he asks if they’re ok, tells them they’re ok, that this was all some sort of sick joke. When his s/o snaps out of their daze, they get mad and push him away, yelling at him for being so foolish

“You were just going to let yourself die with me?!” they demand.

“Yes!” Eddie responds, too overwhelmed to even know how to respond to this. 

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“Because!”

“WHY?”

“Because I can’t go back to my old life! Not having known you! You think that I would just sink back into my old routine without a hitch? You think I would forget you? You think I’d just move on and live life normally? How could I do that? How? If I lost you, I’d have nothing, do you understand? Nothing. My life would be empty, more so than it’s ever been, and nothing could fill that void, not the way you do. No one has ever loved me, not even those who were supposed to! But you, you love me! I didn’t ask for it, and I don’t even deserve it, but you love me anyway. You make me feel valid, you make me feel like...like I exist, like I actually matter.”

His s/o is crying, and he’s crying, and they’re both going to be emotionally traumatized for a while. Sure, Eddie will get revenge but he’s also going to be having night terrors -- nightmares would be much better than what he experiences at night -- about his s/o dying in gruesome ways while is helpless to do anything. Sometimes, he won’t even be able to sleep because he doesn’t want those ghastly images in his head, and he’ll stay up holding his s/o as they (try) to sleep (they have nightmares of their own after this experience). 

He has to come to terms with his first real encounter with the threat of loss, a real loss. He never cared about anyone before because no one ever cared for him. He was used to being ignored, bullied and belittled, and he always had trouble trusting others because of how he was raised. He never had friends, never thought he would need friends because, well, he never had any. Forming emotional attachments was beyond him, as he never had such a relationship with his parents, and that is the first time children are supposed to experience attachment. If your parents don’t love you, you grow up feeling unloved, alone, and don’t understand what it’s like to be close to people, so you just push everyone away and look out for yourself. It makes you selfish just as much as it makes you feel lonely.

But now, Eddie has his s/o, someone who just kind of barged into his life and stole his heart despite his best efforts to not feel anything sentimental because being vulnerable meant he could get hurt, and he didn’t like the idea of forming an attachment only to have it ripped away from him due to the other person’s betrayal. In his eyes, love equals abuse, since that’s the only kind of “love” this Eddie seems to have ever experienced. 

It’s going to take a lot of time -- and patience -- for Eddie to deal with this, and he’s going to be watching his s/o like a hawk. They won’t be allowed to go anywhere alone, and definitely not at night. He’ll be very clingy, protective, maybe a little possessive but mostly protective. When he does eventually find a way to calm down, it will actually make him a stronger person emotionally, I think, because he will understand himself better, and he’ll understand the relationship he has with his s/o better. This experience has taught him -- in the most insane and unwelcomed way -- why his s/o is so vital to him, and while attachment like that is almost frightening because of the risk of loss, he doesn’t want to go back to his old life and be alone, being seen as some sort of joke by everyone in Gotham. He doesn’t want to go back to being isolated, left with only his thoughts to comfort him despite his dwindling sanity and self-esteem. He needs to have a reason to press on, and trying to be better than everyone just won’t do it anymore. He needs to be loved, loves to be loved, but is also thrilled to be able to give it in return, whatever the risks may be.

And you know the antagonist is going to be utterly destroyed by Riddlerbots. Or something. Something awful will happen to that person. We know that much.

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Ugh, so let me know what you guys think! This is way out there in left field in terms of portrayal of Arkham Knight Eddie (or just Arkhamverse Eddie in general) but this idea has been stuck in my mind for so long now. Feedback is definitely encouraged and appreciated here because this is such an epic and crazy h/c. Constructive criticism is welcome. Just don’t be mean, please.