#maybe there’s people who feel the exact way i do and can’t or don't want to leave the house bc of extenuating circumstances

[gregmarriage]

really think i need to make more irl friends, but it feels so impossible. like most of the ppl my age seem to only hang out in bars, and it’s like sorry, i’m uncool and can’t drink, bc i’m on medication. and making friends via dating apps or something similar is abysmal. so, i’m kinda stuck imaooooo

[autolenaphilia]

Edit: as hoshi9zoe pointed out, the original version of this post needlessly berated other transfems like Jennifer Coates, for which I do apologize, and I have toned it down in this edited version. The original version survives in reblogs.

Some months ago, I was searching through this transandrobro blog to see if they posted a callout of me, and i found this reblog, which I couldn't really write about for months, because what do I even write. I recently wayback machined it for posterity, and I guess this is my attempt to write a post about it.

It's saint-dyke himself, the coiner of transandrophobia, saying that the infamous (at least for me) article "I am a transwoman. I'm in the closet. I'm not coming out" is what made him coin the fucking word. It's literally bolded and underlined: "Reading this article is what made me coin “transandrophobia”.

The reason I put off writing this post is that reading that article makes me feel like i'm drinking poison. And it is poison, make no mistake, it's internalized transmisogyny brainworms dripping out of the writer's brain and onto the page.

It's a justification for why the author, known by pseudonym Jennifer Coates, doesn't want to transition, despite knowing she is a trans woman. And it's the exact kind of internalized transmisogyny that keeps trans women in repression and not transitioning. "I'm not going to pass, i'm forever going to be an ugly freak who will at best be humored by other women, the closet is uncomfortable but at least it's safe"

It's the same exact bullshit a lot of represssed trans women tell themselves because it's what society tells us about trans women, that we are freakish parodies of women, that we will never pass, and if we don't pass we have failed and are ugly freaks. It's all to scare us into staying in the closet and make others hate and fear us. Transmisogyny permeates our society, and the majority, maybe all transfems will absorb and internalize some of it.

Coates says that it all is just applicable to her, but again so many transfems believe this shit before transitioning and realizing it's a pack of lies. If this bullshit was in any way valid, a lot of trans women shouldn't transition, because before we actually transition many of us believe it word for word. And "it's only true for me" is how we justify it to ourselves. We tend to be way harsher on ourselves than others. This kind of self-hating transfem tends to think: "Other trans women are beautiful graceful goddesses, earthly manifestations of the divine feminine, always destined to be women, while I'm an ugly forever male ogre who just has a fetish."

It's all bullshit, it's poison, it's internalized transmisogyny.

And the rest of the article is bullshit too. It is not some insightful mediation on gender as some people say, it's the author confusing and mixing up actual transmisogyny with an imagined problem of misandry. She does this because she has gone full repression mode, and decided she has no other choice to live as a man, so her dysphoria and experiences of transmisogyny are actually men's problems.

It's a bad article, excusable because as Coatas points out, it's "essentially a diary entry." that was meant to be a way to "vent frustration" and she "did not intend for anyone else to actually read it." It is clearly not the product of a healthy mind.

I hope the author sometime in the past seven years eventually did transition, and that for whatever reason she didn't want to publicly repudiate her own article. Maybe she lost access to the medium account so she can't delete it.

Far worse than the article itself is the response to it. I've seen it passed around as some insightful commentary on gender by the "feminists are too mean to men, misandry is real" crowd. I have argued against this before. And other people have made insightful comments about it.

And learning that saint-dyke claiming that he was inspired to coin the word "transandrophobia" because of this article is the cherry on top of this shitcake of transmisogyny. For my thoughts on "transandrophobia" theory and how transmisogynistic it is, see here.

Of course, Saint-dyke absolutely could be bullshitting here. Claiming that Coates's article is what inspired him to coin the word might be a lie to claim that transandrophobia theory is not transmisogynistic because it came from listening to trans women.

This is why "listen to trans women" doesn't work. Because TME people will always choose a trans woman who confirms their prejudices. Blair White has made an entire career out of this. And Coates article is popular because it says that misandry is real and trans women's issues are partly caused by it, misgendering herself and other trans women.

And it's popular for another reason. Coates has thoroughly internalized transmisogyny, and thus her article presents a trans woman that is exactly as transmisogynistic patriarchal society wants her to be. She is suffering, but ultimately accepts her assigned role. She truly believes that her biological sex dooms her to forever be male. She literally "manages her dysphoria by means other than transition" as conversion therapy advocates want us to do. She never makes an social claim on womanhood by actually transitioning, so she doesn't invade the sacred women's spaces. Yet she performs the role of woman perfectly by serving men, by defending them from supposed feminist misandry. And she fulfils the ritualistic role that the rhetorical figure of "trans women" sometimes serves in progressive spaces, of giving a blessing to TME people's pre-existing views and actions, all while actual flesh-and-blood trans women are destroyed by those same deeply transmisogynistic spaces. This time it's a blessing for the same "misandry is real" soft-MRA bullshit that has infested the online left and created the transandrophobia crowd.

That is why this article and the positive response makes me sick, makes me feel like i'm drinking poison. This is what its fans want trans women to be like. I'm acutely aware this kind of self-denial is exactly what transmisogyny wants from me and tried to indoctrinate me into doing it. And I want none of it. I want to live, I want to be a woman.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 8

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: traumatic past, trust issues, cursing, very likely typos

Words: 1951

The One I Want Masterlist

You don't remember how you got to the couch. You don’t remember whose idea it was, or who guided who, or who first fell onto the cushions and pulled the other with them. Jake’s lips have kept you from retaining that information, not that it is of much importance, anyway. It doesn’t change that you are where you are, your legs draped over Jake’s thighs, your fingers woven through the ends of his hair, with his hand latched onto your hip. Your lips have barely had a moment apart since you relieved his concern with your smile and he went back in for a second kiss. Bodies have requested a few decent breaths here and there, but nothing keeps you separated for long. 

His kiss is demanding, but not controlling. It’s a kiss unwanting to break, but willing to do so if that is what you need. And his touch follows a similar pattern. Jake is not shy when his hand ventures past your hip, but he’s still cautious. The warmth of his palm sliding over your ass and pulling you closer is gently done, and when he travels up to your flannel sleep shirt and fingers dip under the fabric, he stops just after two knuckles are hidden past the hem. Fingertips grazing your skin are enough to cause shivers of pleasure, but they are still careful not to cross a line. 

You’re not actually sure if a line is there for him to cross, yet somehow you both know the possibility exists that it is hiding in plain sight. It might be that his touch an inch or two closer to your breast could ignite a panic response. His fingers playing with the buttons that hold your shirt closed or the tie that keeps your shorts around your hips could have you jumping out of his hold. And with such unpredictability, you appreciate that Jake doesn’t take that risk because you don’t want to stop this. You want to stay as you are, connected as much as you can safely be connected.

Jake has stolen minutes, maybe hours, from your morning—although, you suppose it can’t be considered stealing if you’re freely giving them to him and intentionally surrendering to the way he's making you feel. Any grasp on time disappeared long ago, but you couldn’t possibly be more content. In Jake’s arms, you have chosen to loosen your connection to the space around you and he has led you to a place where nothing else, especially not your past, matters. 

And you like it here, in this place. Every available reality suspends. Here, you are not damaged. You are not imperfect. A man like Jake wants you. You believe you’ll never have to leave this town because no one is going to say anything to you that will make it unbearable. Here, there’s the suggestion of a future. Here, you can feel your feet start to plant into the ground.

—

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he says. 

You stopped kissing some time ago and he’s taken to staring at you, scanning your features, touching your kiss-swollen lips with a proud smile on his face that says “This was my doing”. 

“I’ve thought so since I came through the front door and saw you standing right about…” he shifts on the couch to get the entrance of the apartment in clear view. With eyes squinting as if to find an exact measurement, his finger points to the spot where you stood the night you first met him. “Right about there.”

Your eyes briefly follow his finger. “I thought you were disappointed.”

“Oh no,” Jake chuckles with a light shake of his head. He looks down, almost as if embarrassed, and watches his hand run back and forth over your bare knee. “No, that certainly wasn’t the case. And Nat teased me for it immediately,” he says. 

Your brows shoot up. “Teased you?”

“Yeah,” is a long-drawn word. His lips curve into a smile and his eyes find yours again. “She knew I was gonna be a goner.”

When you try to conceal your blush by looking down at your fiddling hands, Jake’s grin widens. “Don’t hide,” he says, leaning over to tilt your chin back up with his thumb and index finger. “I like it.”

“You like what?”

From your cheekbone to your jaw, his knuckle draws a soft line over the pink shade of your cheek. “This.”

You would feel more self-conscious about the blush spreading to your ears and chest if not for the light rosy tint making its way onto his cheeks at the same moment. It’s a lovely shade that blends so well with his complexion and instantly confirms that what you saw at the bonfire was not a trick of the flame's glow. Your abdomen clenches with the sensation of velvety wings fluttering throughout your stomach, but the feeling disperses when a pang of something else hits deep in your chest. 

Jake is already so comfortable with his kissing and touching of you. Though he is thoughtful, he doesn’t hesitate or question what he’s doing. He holds on to you like he’s done it a thousand times before. Your bodies mold to this couch as if the position you are sitting in was imprinted into the cushions long ago. He somehow knows what you like; he knows how to kiss you like a man who has been studying you for years. It all comes so naturally—to you and him—that it teeters on the cusp of unreal, and is, therefore, slightly unsettling. 

Typically, you’re careful; more calculated in your interactions with people. You aim to avoid putting yourself in positions where you lose your sense of control, and yet, for Jake you let it all go. With Jake, you’re allowing the revival of parts of yourself that were slowly fading from lack of use, but it forces you to wonder if you’re capable of maintaining that freedom without him there to help you. You don’t want to clam up if he’s out of reach. You owe it to Jake to try to apply everything he’s given you so you can do right by him. If you hurt him from an inability to let yourself remain open, you expect you won’t find of self-forgiveness. 

You don’t realize you’re staring off into space, your eyes on an out-of-focus plant in the corner of the room, until Jake’s hand cups your face and his thumb begins to stroke your cheekbone. When you look up at him, the smile that at some point fell from his face returns and he leans into you. His fingers slide into your hair to guide your head closer to his. 

“Jake, this isn’t trouble, is it?” you whisper before his lips can meet yours. 

He pauses. Then with his brow scrunched in confusion, he pulls back. “What do you mean?”

“This.”

A palm returns to your cheek and that thumb restarts its back-and-forth motion. “You and me?” he asks, but his head shakes before you can answer. “No, we are not trouble.”

Your chuckle lacks full commitment. A twinge of doubt in your capabilities weaseled itself into your thoughts, and though Jake is rather effective at shaking it, you can feel remnants lingering in a place he might not be able to reach. “You’re so sure,” you mutter.

 “Yes,” he says in the limited space between you. “I’m sure.”

“How?”

When Jake sighs and shifts to rest his back against the couch, you know it is not from exasperation. If you could so easily irritate him, he would have given up on anything to do with you after twenty-four hours of you living in his space. Instead, it’s a sigh of contemplation. By the look on his face, your question is one he already has an answer to for himself. His extended thought is for your sake; an extra minute taken to piece together the most encouraging explanation that will help you understand why he’s so confident.

Your hand is encased in his and he squeezes. His stare matches yours. Intense. Unwavering. “Because,” he starts, “I more than thought you were beautiful when I first saw you. I wanted you, and I have wanted you every day since—you and me, just like this, right here. But I wasn’t going to do anything unless you felt like you could trust me,” he says. “And you said you do now, right? You trust me?”

You nod. Then he nods.

“We’ve lived together for months, and I’ve been deep in it, beautiful. Nothing you can do or say will make me think anything other than what I think of you now. So you’re not trouble for me,” he says, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. “And I swear I won’t be trouble for you. If you trust me, trust that.”

Your eyes sting and your nose fills with familiar pressure. There’s something in the ease with which Jake soothes your worries that is sickeningly overwhelming. Your method of relieving pain is, as it has always been, to flee, and after spending so many years doing so, you refused to entertain any other option. But this is Jake, and Jake is different. He doesn’t do the fleeing thing. He does the “I want what I want so I will figure out how to get it” thing. And what he has wanted is your trust, which he obtained by becoming exactly what you didn’t know you needed. 

Not wanting to fall into a mess in front of him for the second time in one day, you move your legs off of Jake’s thighs despite his noise of protest and scoot your body next to his to regain some of that control. 

“What are you–” he begins with a hint of worry in his voice, but you instantly silence him with the soft “hush” that leaves your lips as you throw your leg over his hips and find your balance atop his lap. Jake’s hands settle on your waist. They snake around your back and he tugs you to his chest. The awe that swirls in his eyes as he gazes up at you fills you with confidence, and you tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear before gripping his shoulders. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” you say. Jake blinks, gulps, and nods, both of you knowing that each kiss between you prior to this moment was initiated by him. “I’m going to kiss you, and after that, we’re going to stop focusing on me. We’re going to stop talking about me.”

“I like talking about you,” he says. One hand slowly runs down your clothed spine, over your ass, and along your outer thigh, then makes its way back up. “Can’t we do both?”

“No.” As you lessen the distance between your lips, Jake’s neck stretches up to connect the kiss, but you maintain just enough space to keep him from succeeding. “I tell you something, you tell me something, remember?” 

With his eyes glued to your mouth, Jake nods again.

Good, you think, because step one in your determination to remain open to him is being for him who he is for you—someone to trust. “It’s your turn to tell me why you don’t like to be alone.”

The heat of a hand finds the back of your neck. Fingers weave into your hair. “I’ll tell you anything you want.”

“What I want is to know you, too.”

Jake’s inhale expels as a soft sigh. His eyes pierce yours. “It’s heavy stuff, beautiful.”

“I can handle it,” you say. Then you lean in close so your lips can ghost over his. “Trust me.”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @eloquentdreamer @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things

[pourcap]

thoughts: kr chapter 14

Damen spent two fruitless hours with Nikandros trying to plot a course (...), until Laurent wandered in and outlined a plan so outrageous that Damen had said yes with the feeling that his mind was splitting apart. how much pleasure do you think laurent got out of damen going with his plan instead of nikandros'?

(...) the young, triple-crowned Pallas, Lazar, who had whistled at him, (...) i would like a pallas x lazar spinoff

(...) Damen tried not to think too deeply about the reasons why Laurent thought it necessary to bring a physician. i reread chapter 13 and honestly i wouldn't be surprised if damen was worried about injury while laurent was planning for something else, like jokaste said: "he has his own plans." idk what he's expecting to happen but maybe the 'outrageous plan' and paschal being with them means more? ugh no idea

(...) ‘I see. My wife is the leverage for my good behaviour?’ ‘That’s right,’ said Laurent. is it just me or is easily admitting to something not really characteristic of laurent? i want to know how he said it. was it just "that's right" or was it "that's right" with a glint of "you're so dumb" flickering in his eyes? every chapter i read i think of that one part in book 1 (i think??) where damen tells laurent he doesn't think laurent does anything without ten different motives (that's me paraphrasing obv, i can't remember the exact words :/)

Damen dropped the pitcher. stop

Laurent’s arms were bare. His throat was bare. His collarbone was bare, and most of his thighs, his long legs, and all of his left shoulder. Damen stared at him. horny damen is back!!!! <3333

Laurent sat down. (...) It was even shorter sitting down. he's not even listening, is he?

'Yes. Sorry,’ said Damen. And then: ‘What were you saying?“ lmao i loooove damen so much

They had only twelve soldiers. Twelve-ish, amended Damen, thinking of Paschal and Guion. let me repeat that: i love damen (and his sass)

of course nikandros disagrees. remember when laurent asked damen if he thought nikandros would like him? i guess we all know the answer lol (maybe someday ☻)

'I wish to restate my strong objection,’ said Nikandros. ‘It’s noted,’ said Damen. I LOOOVE DAMEN

Even so, Damen heard himself saying. ‘You can’t just barge in on—’ ‘Open the wagon,’ said the Captain, ignoring him. if only this dude knew who he's really speaking to

also how are they getting out of this lol

Laurent stepped out of the wagon, (...). He said, ‘How did you convince Jokaste to play along with the guards?’ ‘I didn’t,’ said Laurent. no way

He tossed the wad of blue silk in his hands to one of the soldiers to dispose of, then shrugged into his jacket in a rather mannish gesture. IN A RATHER MANNISH GESTURE

laurent is so hot

i'm so sorry but he's literally so hot

"Don't think about it too much,' said Damen. can you believe how far laurent and damen have come? the easy acceptance of each other's personalities, the appreciation for how much they've helped and will continue to help each other by one person making up for what the other lacks, the absence of judgement? and just, in general, how well they know each other by now? i just love them. i love them.

Laurent held out his hand to escort her back from the supply wagon into the main wagon, a bored Veretian gesture. Her eyes had the same bored look as she took his hand. ‘You’re lucky we’re alike,’ she said, stepping down. They looked at one another like two reptiles. i imagine nikandros staring at damen right now and i know exactly what his face would look like

(...) ‘I’ll be swift, and I’ll take our best rider with me.’ ‘That’s me,’ said Laurent, wheeling his horse. i just think they're very sexy

'The undergrowth was thinner when I was a boy.’ ‘Or you were.' stop flirting omg (jk pls go on)

damen constantly thinking about all the nice places he wants to take laurent and the people he wants to introduce him to and the memories he wants to make with him... it's doing things to me. he's so in love. they're so in love. <3

'You left the dress in the wagon,’ said Damen. ‘Thank you, I do have other ways of getting past a sentry.' yay more flirting!

'You’re late,’ said Damen. ‘I brought you a souvenir.’ Laurent tossed Damen an apricot. Damen could feel the quiet exultation of Laurent’s men, while the Akielons looked a little dazed. laurenttttt (i said that with a squeal)

‘Is this how you do things in Vere?’ ‘You mean effectively?’ said Laurent. (...) lauuuureeeennttttt <33333 (he's so cute and i love him and i know damen's competency kink just flared up again but can laurent pls stop needling nikandros lol)

(...) Earlier, Laurent had tossed Damen his bedroll and said, ‘Unpack this,’ and Pallas had almost challenged him to a duel for the insult. (...) imagine if pallas knew even half of all that happened between damen and laurent lol. also it's not like damen is a perfect gentleman but, you know. i appreciate the loyalty (and love pallas)

Damen poured a shallow cup of wine and passed it to the soldier beside him (Pallas), and there was a long silence in which Pallas stood obviously garnering every piece of courage that he had to reach out and take it. damen is so good to his men; i love that he knows pallas meant well, so this is a nice gesture. also, bc it's just impossible to ignore: damen is so hot.

Laurent strolled up to the impasse, threw himself down on the log next to Damen, and in an expressionless voice launched into the story of the brothel adventure that had earned him the blue dress, which was so unabashedly filthy it made Lazar blush, and so funny it had Pallas wiping his eyes. (...) i just got super emotional bc remember when in the beginning of book 2, damen told laurent he needed to bond with his men in a way that wasn't just manipulation and laurent said he didn't have time for that? i love that it's happening now, and has of course been happening for a while, but that laurent is coming more out of his shell and actually enjoying himself now and then.

Pallas did a decent impression of Paschal’s riding. Lazar watched Pallas with lazy admiration. It wasn’t the impression he was admiring. Damen bit into the apricot. 1) i will read all the lazar x pallas fics there are. 2) damen always noticing the soldiers flirting is so funny to me. first jord and aimeric, now these two

laurent and damen lying side by side under the stars ahhhhh

'You smell of horse,’ said Damen. ‘It’s how I got past the dog.' whyyyy am i so emotional? can you believe i'm crying over damen saying laurent smells lol

'You want me wandering around the Akielon countryside naked at night?’ And then, ‘You smell just as much of horse as I do.’ ‘More,’ said Damen. He was smiling. he was smiling !!!! and i am crying now :)

'They’re Artesian. Aren’t they? From the old empire, Artes. They say it used to span both our countries.' bring it back! bring back artes!

Damen heard himself say it. ‘There’s a summer palace in Ios outside the capital. (...)' His pulse beat with uncharacteristic nerves, so that he felt almost shy. ‘When all this is over . . . we could take horses and stay a week in the palace.’ (...) He felt Laurent holding himself carefully, and there was a strange pause. After a moment, Laurent said, softly, ‘I’d like that.’ you know how i just said i was crying? i am sobbing now :) damen and laurent both being shy and cute and in love and full of yearning for peace and happiness 😭 I love them so much 😭

that was such a good chapter :')

[helluva-dump]

At this point, the hazbin/helluva critical community has fallen flat. And when I say that, I mean that it lacks potential. Like, I thought we were criticizing about the characters and the show itself. I thought we were talking about it's issues and what Viv could approve on it. But now, these people are just targeting fans of Viv's show who are just going on about their day, taking screenshots of harmful posts and posting it on the critical blog just to shit on them. You can't even consider that "critical" now when you're just being an asshole. They wonder why Viv and her fans think the critics are so bad. On top of that, these people love to make assumptions about Viv harassing Gooseworx all because she's a "terrible person" like please stfu. "She probably did this" and they don't even have any proof. Maybe consider that Viv actually enjoys tadc and it's success? What is all of this "viv is mad because the amazing digital circus is more successful than her shitty shows"? I dunno, man. That critical community is just so fucking dumb and stupid. They're not even talking about the shows anymore. They just bitch and fuss about everything.

For real, I had never seen such a critical community this much of a train wreck as the fandom is.

I mean hell, I engaged with the SVTFOE community before (and that show has the EXACT same problems as Helluva boss) and the critical blogs were very chill.

I feel like what didn’t help is how immature and unprofessional Vivziepop acts publicly. But at the same time…. I can’t really blame her for getting defensive when these antis dogpile her on everything.

And yes, the screenshots making fun of harmless posts of fans were red flags to me. Like dude, we have rabid fans and Stans do that to us, why the hell are you stopping to their level??? (I’m not gonna include the voodoo controversy because that to me needed to be talked about. A lot of POC fans and criticals had every right to discuss that and Viv should had given an apology or explanation over that. With closed religions that always got stereotypes due to colonizers, you need to be careful when writing about them. )

Oh God don’t get me started on the whole Vivziepop and Gooseworks relationship assumptions… that actually annoyed me too and I’m sure there’s no bad blood with them. I get she had bad blood with Tracey and possibly Ashley, but I don’t think it’s fair to assume she’s like this with every indie creator.

Honestly, its both of their fandoms that are acting unhinged. But I even seen hardcore fans of Viv like Dani praising TADC and Gooseworks, so I doubt the whole fandom are planning to sabotage them. TADC isn’t a rain full of sunshine either, they too have so much bad apples there.

Also my big issue with this community I’ve noted some critical blogs that claim they wanna make an original series (well one already made a webcomic) but they NEVER stop bitching about Viv and go on and on how they never do this to their project… unmmm dude? If you constantly compare your project to Viv’s, your gonna lose your audience this way. This can make you come off as an a logger and a very petty person to others. Trust me, this is NOT going to make people want to be interested in your original projects.

It’s also very unprofessional to do this publicly. I get looking at bad writing motivates you how to not to things… but the constant comparing is going to make you look like a very petty person to your outside audience. And they feel like your project won’t have agency on its own without being “better than Helluva/Hazbin.” I say this because I too am working on an indie project I want to make to a webcomic. And I REALLY don’t wanna ruin my reputation that way.

That’s what Zeartist did when he made his shitty ass books and would constantly hitch and whine about twilight on his life journals. And he would always bring up his original series and how it’s “better” and how he wouldn’t write such garbage like Stephanie Meyer.

And guess what???? His books are just twilight 2.0 but even worse 😂😂😂 he ended up doing the exact same thing stephanie did, bitches out over criticism, and yeah a huge hypocritical asshat.

That’s why constantly comparing your project to another person’s to seen as better is NOT a smart idea. Please have some self awareness there if your actually planning to make a webcomic or an original series.

Also… I’ve noticed people that have beautiful startled would waste it on blind hatred. Like that “I HAtE VIVZIEPOP” blog. Like godamn, their art is beautiful but they had an unhealthy hate obsession with Viv… why waste your energy on that when you can make something better?

I’m not talking about rewrites, AUs, or redesigns because to me those are like fanfics and for fun. The stuff I do is mainly just for fanfic fun and a writing/world building exercise for me. But also a little bit of self indulgence since I sitll admire Viv’s characters. You can enjoy something without giving your support to the actual creator. I’m trying to show my support to the team behind it.

(I’m even planning to buy fan merch from one of the clean up artists on their shop. To me it’s the ethical way of getting Hazbin/Helluva merch without directly giving it to Viv but to her artists instead. )

[cosmiclion]

If you thought I couldn't outdo myself more with the fluff for this AU then you haven't seen my true power yet 😈

I don't know if I got OCiel's bangs right but, realistically speaking, human hair never stays in the same place, that's how physics works so whatever lmao.

Anyway, trying to write a Black Butler AU with some fluff where Sebastian and Ciel have a parent-child like relationship WHILE keeping them in-character (Sebas more than Ciel tbh) and still basing it on canon material but making changes and making said changes make sense requires a bit of work ngl.

I mean, I know it's just a project I'm doing for fun and technically there's nothing stopping me from going nuts and making them completely OOC and disregarding canon at all, but I feel then it'd become a separate story with new, original characters who simply happen to be inspired by Kuro (which is also okay, and who knows, maybe in the future I'll repurpose the whole thing to create my own Kuro-inspired original story, even if I don't think I'll ever fully lose interest in Kuro, this cursed series has me in a chokehold lmao). Full ramble under the cut.

Sebastian is the hardest one to write, though I think I'm finally more or less figuring it out. I didn’t want to write him as suddenly learning to love the way humans do thanks to the power of cute children or something, as it just didn't feel natural (or I couldn't personally make it feel natural, I know other people have managed to write that concept very well). What I have so far is that when he does act nurturing he’s simply imitating the behavior of human parents he has observed, but he doesn’t love the kid the same way humans do because he literally doesn’t have that ability. BUT that doesn’t mean he feels nothing at all and that it doesn’t mean anything to Ciel, after all this weird creature is the one who saved his life and raised him with care and patience. The closest comparison I can think of is the relationship between people and “unusual” pets like reptiles, amphibians, insects, etc. We know they can’t love us the way other people (or even other mammals) would but that doesn’t make our bond any less significant! Some bits of canon material also come in handy here, for example I based the fact that familiar Sebas finds Ciel adorable as a kitten on the canon fact that he likes squishing his cheeks because they remind him of a cat's paws 😂 Just know he's an awkward demon who doesn't know how to human but is doing his best 🥺

I think in Ciel’s case I have more freedom since he is, after all, human, and a human’s personality is strongly shaped by their environment and life experiences. Like, what exactly counts as making a character OOC? Sure, I can agree that in a fanwork set in the exact same universe with the exact same events as in canon there’s some things a character would never say or do, but I think AUs were created as a way to explore what-if scenarios. What if this character had been raised by different people? What if they had grown up in a different place? What if this or that event hadn’t happened or had gone differently? Tbh I think it’s just fun to explore endless possibilities, it’s maybe a form of character analysis in some way. And if we think about it, canonverse Ciel was originally sweet, shy and affectionate, and if he’s the complete opposite now it’s only because he went through an utterly horrific and traumatic event that forced him to grow up before his time and toughen himself up because it left him with little to no support system, on top of having to be hyper vigilant because the only thing that "saved" him from that is a literal demon who wants his soul and is haunting him.

So I just wanted to create this alternative timeline where maybe things aren’t as terrible, or they start out as terrible but then some good things come from the most unexpected sources. Ciel is five years younger and thus has more time to process everything and try to heal as he grows up. Sebas isn’t entirely a bastard and willingly does nice things for the child, even if he still doesn’t understand human needs, and while he stills views him as a potential meal (at least at the beginning) he's actually respectful. There’s another demon who understands humans all too well and is happy to lend a hand. His friends and the relatives he has left are more involved in his life. So Ciel more or less has a support system now, albeit a weird dysfunctional one, and doesn’t entirely lose his sweetness (also like... he's 5/6 at the beginning of the story, we really can't expect a preschooler to be an edgy emo who craves violence and revenge ☠️). I imagine he grows up to be just as calculating and cunning as canonverse Ciel, maybe even just as ruthless in his job because it’s a requirement, and is still pretty much a little shit, but this Ciel is not as cold and undemonstrative. He’s still very much an introvert who prefers to be left alone, but he smiles (as in genuinely smile) more often and it’s a little easier for him to express emotions and feelings (more through actions than words, but still meaningful). Hell he may allow himself to be playful and silly sometimes if he’s in the moment.

And if it wasn’t clear from the picture, little Ciel ADORES Sebastian. Sure he's (understandably) a bit skittish around him at first, but once they bond he comes to fully view him as a parental figure. Yes, he's hurt, sad and traumatized, but he's still a resilient little kid, and with enough kindness Sebas can coax his old self to come out of his shell, and until the kid becomes more independent they're like a mama duck and her lil duckling. Their constant banter and bickering when he's older is more a teens being teens thing than anything.

[pjoxreader]

Leo/Frank/Reyna with an autistic reader?

Autistic Reader 

((I unfortunately don't know much about Autism but I did my best! I did do some research so I hope it's alright!))

Leo Valdez

-Leo does his best to be supportive but he has a million things going through his brain. Unfortunately you like things to be done at their exact time and get anxious when they aren’t. 

-”Leo, we’re already five minutes late!” you stress out pacing outside his room. Leo does make his way out, getting his jacket on. But when he goes out and sees you so stressed out he honestly feels bad. He just gets so absorbed in his own work that he forgets about time.

-However Leo decides right there and then that he never wanted to be the cause of your stress ever again. He makes multiple alarms for himself to block out his time. Just as you were about to go complain to Leo about being late, again, you hear him talk by the front door. 

-“Come on love we don’t want to be late do we?” he gives that dorky grin that makes your heart flutter. He really was a dork but you do go over giving him a light kiss that makes him go bright red.

-He isn’t perfect though, he often messes up with realizing you take things very literally. Which he works his best on, but he was known for making jokes and such! He’d never mean it maliciously though! 

-The worst scenario with that was when you were getting ready to join the ares cabin in sword training and Leo called “break a leg!” The stare you gave him really made him realize just how bad he messed up. He quickly starts to explain what the phrase means as he feels guilty right away.

Frank Zhang

-Frank knew anxiety could get bad, he had to deal with it a lot himself. You two had bonded over that when you were younger after all. And now Frank was trying to help you meet his new friends.

-Of course he knew it’d be a lot to meet six other people who all had their own unique personality… So he had warned the group ahead of time that you two might sneak off for a bit to help you relax, promising it wasn’t because of the group.

-Everyone was very understanding. Frank could see you were getting a bit overwhelmed and went to your side smiling softly “Did you want to take a break?” he asks, keeping his voice calm and you nod, taking a shaky breath as you look at the railing of the boat.

-Frank knew you were never one to make eye contact so he never bothered you about it. “Here, there’s a good spot over here.” He leads you over where the chatter dies out and you get to enjoy seeing the ocean.

-You take a few breaths helping yourself calm down as Frank waits, standing at the railing while he waits. He knows when to give you space and you couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend than him. After calming down a bit you feel guilty about running off from a party that was supposed to be about you making friends…

-”Hey, don’t feel guilty. They all understand.” he promises lightly sitting down beside you as if he read your mind. “Can I hold your hand?” he asks gently. You can’t help the soft smile forming on your face as you nod, holding your hand out for Frank to hold which he gladly takes. You can’t help but think how lucky you are.

Reyna Ramírez-Arellano

-Reyna is very observant, maybe it’s her combat skills but she just knows when something is wrong. She could tell the moment you don’t like something, the moment you’re stressed, or when you’re upset. She could really read you like a book.

-But what she did have problems with is telling your other emotions, which was unfortunate since you had a hard time explaining how you were feeling too. You were also very blunt and honest but she loved that.

-It was annoying having to deal with the other roman soldiers who would go around subjects to spare her or others feelings. She just wanted the truth and you would deliver. She was working on some paperwork and looked over to you. 

-“What do you think of Octavian?” she asks curiously looking at you with a raised brow. You huff at that “I think he’s a jerk and I hate him for sacrificing my stuffed animal.” you say as if talking about the weather, making Reyna grin a bit at that she really did love how honest you were.

- She had to work out something to help you with your emotions, something that would help the both of you. She wanted to be a good girlfriend and be there to support you. But she knew that she couldn’t do it alone so she asked the other seven to help her come up with ideas. 

-She should have just gone to Annabeth first as she printed out something called the emotion wheel. It was a wheel with different emotions on it that would then branch out to more detailed explanations like going from sad, to discourage. Something you could take one step at a time. It’d be perfect.

~Masterlist & Rules~

Like my writing? Please consider sending me a Ko-fi! ☕

[solarwynd]

Tbh I don't even care / dislike boycott armys. If you don't want to spend money on BTS because they haven't spoken about Palestine, that's your perogative. Because they're enlisted, that does make a difference for me - maybe others find it an excuse but as someone who doesn't live in a liberal western country myself, I know how things like this work in my country and how vulnerable you can be in this situation, so I don't know how it works in s korea but still I'm giving them some leeway. Also there's just this weird disconnect for me because on one side yeah they're millionaires with a huge platform, on the other side they're currently in the mfing army right now. It feels foul to start tweeting about their privilege from the comfort of my bed in my home - something they currently do not experience. That's just my opinion. Someone else might perceive them to have more power than I do and maybe they're right. I won't say mine is the only right way to think. Plus again it's your money - if you donate more and spend less on merch then that's still a net good imo.

But the whole tone of people remarking on this donation has been completely gross. The way they talk about a genocide the same way they talk about the stupid fanwars that happen on twt everyday rather than with the weight it deserves makes me feel like this is some performative bs. Tweets like the ones some armys and kpop stans make just degrades the whole movement.

If you do have genuine intentions and start making stupid tweets like that, you should really touch some grass, log off twitter and do some more actual activism offline instead of letting twitter brain worms consume you. Acting like everyone's misconstruing what you said and playing victim is also not the move. This is a serious topic so I'd expect tweets related to this to have some actual thought behind it instead of spewing some idiocy as a gotcha because again it looks like you're treating this whole issue like some fandom war and trying to one-up the other side. Click-clack my ass.

Armys always come at BTS crazy during times like this and it’s not because it’s “necessary” since you want them to speak up. It all just comes off as sanctimonious and BTS ruining the perception armys have built around them as stans of them being a bit more conscientious than other k groups. I’ve never had an issue with boycotting in theory it’s just that armys can’t stand behind shit or just go about it the wrong way.

Why is it the minute they don’t perform to your exact standards, all of a sudden they’re low down and evil?Why couldn’t y’all have used Jimin donating as a beacon to rally fans to open a pool or something? And I try not to go tit for tat on things like this, but it’s extremely hard not to when you see proof of all these armys happily buying and streaming golden from last year and have been the main ones making these posts about jimin’s donation.

Nothing has changed from that time to present day. Same with the kpop stans trying to join in on it stanning groups who haven’t said a word either. How do you expect me not to believe y’all don’t have ulterior motives by singling him or BTS out? Now all those accounts have deleted those tweets cause they’ve gotten called out on their hypocrisy and got caught up in how dumb they look getting Jimin dragged over something so harmless. Cause it’s not like he gave money to something inane or inconsequential. He’s helping underprivileged children. Just real dickheaded behavior from that person.

Now considering how a member has close ties with scooter, making a statement would come off as hypocritical. I know in the grander scheme of things, what’s needed and what’s important is the awareness and I’d take it as such. But denouncing Zionism with a Zionist so avidly in the mix still wouldn’t be a good look. Which is why I feel like donating would have been the better option. It’d be much more substantial helping out with funds/materials imo because those are things Palestinians desperately need. But I understand that it’s not on the table since they’re in the military.

[centuryberry]

Since jealousy is apparently the key to getting wukong to realize his feelings, and you said he didn't even realize at all in rin rin route; imagine that in saving Yue macaque kills her father, becomes the new heir cause he's Helen of Troy there, and (since I don't think Mac or Shanzha would go back to be heartbroken, but also macaque doesnt hate wukong so no reason to completely cut contact) ffm get informed by letter Yue is saved and about prince macaque. Wukong of course will visit cause he misses his "bestie" and see just how popular Mac is.

then he realize his feelings and that he missed his chance and also feel horribly guilty for feeling like this in front of his wife

To answer your question directly concerning the scenario you wrote out: yes. Wukong would be filled with a horrible mixture of jealousy/yearning/guilt. But hey, he’s not alone. RinRin would be feeling the exact same thing. What a pair they make.

But things wouldn’t exactly play out that way post RinRin Route.

(More below)

So, while the death of Yue’s Father is a certain thing after Macaque and Shanzha return to the Land of Eternal Snow, it’s a bit more complicated than that. Their intention was only to grab Yue and lead a quiet together in some corner where no one would bother them. Things happened which I won’t expand on since it’s a major spoiler to Queen of the Mountain. A lot of people died (including Yue’s Father).

After the dust settled, there were only a few members of the clan left and an empty clan head seat. And no, Macaque didn’t take it. Shanzha did. It’s her bloodline right as the oldest surviving member of the main line. Technically, it should be Yue who is next in line as the daughter of the Clan Heir, but she was too young.

Shanzha took the seat of power so she can clean things up for Yue to inherit. When other demon clans started to attack the very vulnerable Zodiac Monkey Clan, Shanzha and Macaque took arms and they led them to victory, accidentally expanding their territory. Shanzha was very, very good at fighting and winning, so she became known as a warlord - even though it was other demons attacking her and not the other way around????

Macaque took a role of an advisor since he knows what ruling is like and can see from a mile away that Shanzha was accidentally making an empire. He just wanted the best for their niece, who he’s terribly fond of and wants to give the world to her.

Since they were already co-parenting and have no interest in starting a romance with, well, anyone after their respective heartbreaks, the two get platonically married. It boosts Shanzha’s image anyways to have such a gorgeous mate who’s “devoted” to her and her alone. They make it work.

Now, Wukong - despite some changes - still somehow manages to get himself into trouble with Heaven (eats their peaches, drinks their wine, and steals all the pills) and gets thrown under the mountain. Maybe it’s a self-sabotaging thing. Or maybe it’s an effort to give RinRin immortality so she wouldn’t have to depend solely on his feelings since he realized that his love for her wasn’t as strong as he thought (lol it’s your guilt that’s keeping her there, silly).

Macaque and Shanzha respond when they hear of FFM’s burning. They give help, supplies, and troops to help defend the island as it recovers. Shanzha went directly there herself, reunited with RinRin for a time, before returning to her territory. Of course, there’s lots of unearthed feelings and pining but they leave it open ended since they have responsibilities.

Wukong, on the other hand, has his reunion with Macaque during his journey to the west. He and his pilgrim brothers come across the Land of Eternal Snow and are treated as important guests. No demon shenanigans. Just Wukong blatantly pining over his best friend. Who’s married to the warlord. And has an adorable child.

Zhu Baije: Brother, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but stop flirting. You’re going to get us kicked out.

Wukong: What do you mean? I’m not flirting. I’m just happy to see my best friend after all this time!

Everyone: …

Tripitaka and the other pilgrims are worried about Wukong offending the Warlord but nope, she’s too busy pouring her heart out on her most recent message to the Queen of FFM - updating her about her husband’s whereabouts, of course.

Macaque is doing well. He’s respected, loved, and lusted after by many. What do you mean he’s still not over Wukong? He’s the warlord’s husband. He’s the heiress’ doting guardian. What more does he want?

(Wukong, apparently.)

By the time Wukong has to move on, nothing is resolved aside from Yue getting the most powerful uncle in the world to support her claim to the clan head seat.

For the rest of the journey, Wukong is insufferable. He’s either waxing poetic about his “best friend in the world” or fuming over how Macaque still has demons throwing themselves at him despite his married status.

Whether these celestial monkey idiots resolve their complicated relationship or not is left open-ended. But there’s certainly a lot of pining. And doting over Yue because she deserves the world.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 4

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1874

The One I Want Masterlist

---

“Are you excited?” Jake asks as he hands you a cup of coffee. 

You take a sip and let the liquid run down your throat, then pull the cup away from your face to examine it. Your eyes dart from the caramel-colored drink to your roommate and back. He keeps getting it right, and you don’t know how. It’s as if you wrote the exact measurements of the contents of your usual coffee order on a sticky note and slapped it on the fridge so he had no choice but to memorize it. 

“Thank you,” you say. “And, yea…I guess so. It’ll be nice to have a reason to get out every day, but I have a feeling I'll be bored sitting around.” Which you’re perfectly fine with. A job is a job in your mind, and stumbling upon the gift shop across from the beach was convenient for both hirer and hiree. But Jake doesn’t need to know just how unfeeling you are toward your new job. You wouldn’t put it past him to try to unnecessarily cheer you up.

He’s done it a lot. At any hint of distress, you find him beside you. And as someone who finds themself lost in thoughts that allow anxiety or stress or pain to seep onto their face, it means Jake Seresin is often close. Which also means you are constantly at war with what your mind is willing to accept. 

There’s the suspicious part consuming most of your mind, telling you that people—men like Jake, especially—don’t go out of their way. Not for someone like you. But another itty bitty piece of your mind wants to believe Jake truly is this nice and caring. You wouldn’t hate to have that kindness in your life be a permanent fixture. 

Since you moved in you can’t deny that you rise each morning a little less worried about what the day will hit you with. And you know it’s Jake who has fueled that—indirectly, even. He has yet to comment on you or your body or your clothes or what you eat. Neither positively nor negatively. Though you do catch him staring from time to time, whatever he is thinking doesn’t leave his mouth, which is far more restraint than others have shown in the past. 

Jake shoves his hands into his sweatpants pockets and shrugs. “We usually take an hour for lunch. I could always stop by.”

“And do what?” You can’t hold back your snort, nor can you conceal the upturned tick of your lips. Your first smile of the day, light as it is, and Jake’s eyes fix on your mouth until you say, “Are you overdue for a new keychain or cheap beach snow globe?”

“I might be. Those snow globes are great,” he says with a grin, endearingly crooked. “You know, you shake ‘em around; snow goes all over the place.”

“Yes, I’m aware of how they work.”

“Well then you understand why I might want a new one,” he sasses, all but sticking his tongue out like a child.

You hum to hold back your laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you’ve started to find him funny in the last few weeks. Something tells you his ego doesn’t need it. Then, with your hand extended you pass him the mug and make your way toward the door to grab your purse off the nearby hook. “I’ll try to remember that. Thanks for the coffee.”

You are almost out the door, out of his sight and so close to gaining the distance you’ve decided you need from him, when he calls out to you.  “Hey, do you want me to pick you up at the end of your shift?”

The smile you’d finally let free from his earlier joke falls, and you swallow hard, suddenly wishing you’d had the money to keep the rental car you used to get yourself from one state to the next. Though you’ll have hours away from him for the day, and the days to come, Jake coming to get you when you’re likely drained from boredom will instantly ruin the mental fortitude you’re trying to regain. 

You’d never speak it into existence, but your new job benefits you in more ways than one. After coming up short on last month's rent, you’ll finally be able to put a dent in the money you owe him—because you are paying him even though he doesn’t ask for it—but you were also banking on the separation giving you the chance to get your thoughts and pulse under control. 

Anticipation has wormed its way into your daily routine lately. You wake. Wash face. Brush teeth. Dress. Think of Jake. Scold yourself for thinking of Jake. Itch to see him, for reasons you’d rather not focus on. Get pissed for the rapid beating of your heart. 

You don’t need it. Not the unexpected thoughts, not the chaos of your pulse, not the disappointment in yourself for failing to learn from previous experiences. Thinking of him too often will fuck things up and leave you worrying about much more than just Jake or his friends or the odd stranger paralyzing you from a sudden comment or snide remark on how you look. Before you know it, you’ll be digging into the front pocket of your suitcase for the final two notecards and tossing a coin. 

“It’s only a mile-long walk,” you say, praying the unsteadiness of your voice isn’t detectable through the wall segmenting hallway from kitchen.

“So?”

You sigh. Definitely not the answer you wanted. You don’t know how to respond. There’s no excuse on the tip of your tongue, so you settle on, “Have a good day, Jake. Go save the country or something.”

—

You were spot on with that boredom prediction. Hours have passed and you’ve been forced to fill the time with menial tasks that might just be shrinking a few brain cells. Examining every item in the shop, counting every item in the shop, recounting the little squishy sea critter toys after a group of preteen girls lingered too long in that aisle. As someone so used to being on the move, each minute is slowly eating away you. 

With limited options, there are opportunities to let your mind wander and, eventually, you drift into your memories. When the urge to stop them arises, you’re shocked that you kick it back. And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re grabbing a pocket-sized navy-colored notebook and a pen with a plastic seashell for a cap. 

A self-help book you’d skimmed a year prior suggested writing things down to process trauma and grief. The author-slash-therapist didn’t ask for well-detailed memories and feelings, but instead, a quick scribbling of the first things that come to mind. Despite how simple the task seemed, you hadn’t considered it. It seemed silly to relive the pain, to rip open wounds. Even poorly stitched wounds, you won’t deny, that left ragged and raised scars. You’d just been content with no longer bleeding. 

But recently, you’ve neglected a pulling; a string threaded and knotted into your heart with a force trying to tug it free from the confines of your chest. Though you know that would only serve one unenticing purpose, to demand you examine the organ and assess the damage time has worn into it, you don’t reconsider flipping open the cover of the notebook. 

With a free mind, you write down names, places, and towns. You write down words that were thrown at you. You write down the first time someone attacked your most vulnerable parts. And the things said and done that drove you out of one location and onto the next. You write until pages of white are filled with what could only be compared to an insane person's pastime. You write until another customer comes in just as the sun begins to fade. 

You feel her presence before you look up from the notebook in your lap, and when you finally do, you internally flinch at the sight. 

The pin-straight yellow strands of her hair reach a few inches below her shoulders, her lips are coated in bright red, and her eyes are enhanced with heavy dark shadow tones. She is tits shoved together, pushing cleavage out the low V of her camisole, and tight ass filling out tighter, dangerously short, shorts, and tiny waist a man could wrap his hands around and touch fingertips. She’s everything you avoid, and she pays you no mind as she makes her way to the mugs at the back corner of the store before heading for the t-shirts.

It’s obvious she entered with a mission when you find her not one minute later standing in front of you and setting the items on the counter. As you scan and wrap the mug and place it in the bag with the shirt, you don’t miss the similar words written across both cheap gifts. My Boyfriend is a Naval Aviator flows in cursive script over the chest of the shirt. My Girlfriend F*cks a Naval Aviator curves with the rounded shape of the mug.

You wonder if that boyfriend is one of Jake’s friends. Rooster does have a girlfriend and you have no way of knowing if this woman is his type. You kind of hope she isn’t. 

“It’s sixteen dollars even,” you mutter. 

She reaches into her cami and pulls out a twenty, slamming it down on the glass countertop that doubles as a display case for the slightly more expensive, yet still cheap, merchandise. The leftover four dollars are then shoved back between her push-up bra and breast. The bag is ripped from your hand and she promptly exits. 

That’s one way to end a first day, you think. At least it was one more thing to do with your time. Annoying kids, a notebook you’re not going to dare touch for a few days, and a woman with underlying anger issues who reminds you too much of your past. You deflate as you realize tomorrow is not likely to end up nearly as eventful.

Closing the shop is, thankfully, a quick process, because you’d like to make it back to the apartment before the moon and stars become your main light source. Walking home in the dark doesn’t suit you but you weren’t about to accept Jake’s offer knowing it likely wouldn’t stop there. First he’ll be picking you up, then it’ll develop into him dropping you off, then you’ll be hanging out with him and his friends every weekend. And then what? What good will any of that do you?

As it turns out, though, you don’t have a choice. 

Once the building door is shut and locked, you turn to find a black truck pulling up beside you. Your heart misses its next beat as fear grips you, but then you recognize the vehicle. The passenger window rolls down to reveal sandy blond hair, then green eyes, then sharp nose, then wide grin.

“You didn’t actually say no,” Jake says. 

Fuck. 

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you step closer, wrap your fingers around the car door handle, and pull. 

---

A/N: ended up having to do something tonight, so this part came a little early. I hope you liked it :)

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath

[twinklelilstarkey]

Tutor: Party - Rafe Cameron

Words: 8k+ Type: Smut (but with a little angst) Summary: You go to that party with Kristy and let Rafe know. Warnings: Fem!Reader. Dark!Rafe [mentions coke, beating up people, and being possessive]. Mentions of alcohol consumption, poker, drugs, blood, being beaten up, fights [non-descriptive], and someone looking at y/n's cleavage. SECRET RELATIONSHIP. Y/N's friends hate Rafe. SMUT {risk of getting caught, no protection, ROUGH sex, piv sex, mirror sex, under the influence (Rafe), dacryphilia, praise kink, size kink if you squint, possession kink, rough handling, and hair pulling} From this request

Tutor Masterlist (for context, you should read the smuts <3)

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

By clicking to read more you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and mature enough to read mature scenes :)

As you expected it to happen, you had to wait days to see Rafe again. You two texted whenever you could. You had classes for the rest of the week, had to tutor Wheezie at the end of each day, and were held hostage to watch movies with your parents every night before bed. Not that you don’t like to spend time with your parents, but, for these last few days, you felt like you didn’t have any time for yourself - let alone any time for Rafe to ever sneak inside your bedroom.

It was depressing.

Kristy eventually did tell you which party the girls decided to go to while having lunch together, and you texted that exact information to Rafe. You didn’t know what the text would do to change his plans, but you sent it anyway.

You expected guilt at any point of your days. The guilt of not telling the truth to your mom or dad, or (especially) to Kristy and the girls. You expected to feel something due to how you’ve been going for weeks on constant lies about your whereabouts, who you’re texting, and what you’re thinking about when weirdly going silent. But that something never came, ever.

Firstly, you thought that maybe the entire reason why you wouldn’t feel guilty was because of Rafe. You like being near him at all times, and you like to think about him at all times too. Deep down, you know that if there was ever the possibility of your parents or the girls finding out the truth, there would be no more Rafe. They would probably lock you in the basement and plan to fly you off the country. They hate him. All while you like him more, and more with each day. Therefore, whenever you're with him, you don't even notice that you're doing something bad.

Rafe has a different mentality when it comes to the two of you. He doesn’t ever plan on telling anything about you to anyone - even though he has gotten close to telling Topper one time while very, very high - but he does, in a way, like the position you’re in. It excites him. You can’t be seen with him. You're the goody two shoes and the perfect girl, yet the exact same one that cums around his dick whenever he calls her his.

Not wanting anyone else to know is something the two of you can agree on, yet your reasons only match once: You two don’t want to stop seeing each other. But while you sometimes find yourself suffering in the thrill of ever being caught, or the idea of anyone's face whenever they find out, Rafe thrives on it. Deep down he wants people to know how he can dirty your perfect image, to go from the perfect girl to his perfect girl at the snap of his fingers. He has you wrapped around his finger, and he never plans on getting you off.

It has only been an hour since you got to the party with your friends. Rafe knows because he saw you coming in. The party is mostly kept on the outside of the house as most of the doors inside are locked to keep people away from the bedrooms. He saw you walk with your usual group of friends, arm crossed with one of the girls - one he assumes to be Kristy.

The crowds you two hang out with are different. So different that they even hang out at different areas of the party. Your crowd stays on the grass, near the drinks and music. Rafe’s crowd stays on the porch, near a table with its usual white residue and many, many beers. And this distance is bad for the two of you as there’s no way for you to sneak away without one person seeing.

Rafe can still see you from where he sits, though. He’s playing poker with Topper and a bunch of other guys. Rafe can’t name half of the people that are with him, but he recognizes the faces. People like to randomly talk to him sometimes, but he’s starting to get a little too drunk and too high to really keep up with them patiently. He has also won 2 games already and can’t seem to wipe away his smile while Topper grows annoyed.

His eyes move over to you whenever it’s not his turn to play, watching as you stand in the distance beside Kristy while holding a drink in your hands. You’re deep into conversation with the girl and only sometimes sipping your drink and looking around.

“She told me something about that.” Kristy agrees with you, “But I still don’t get it.”

“I know. Me either.” You tell her, sipping the fruity drink just one more time.

Your night has been spent gossiping. Kristy always has the way to know a lot more than you when it comes to gossip, but you always get told a lot more details by the other girls for some reason. Making you two the perfect duo for nights like these.

It's when you take your last sip, that you notice that the girls are coming back with the drinks just now. You frown at the sight of them. They left your little corner not even 5 minutes ago and were smiling and jumping when they did so. Now, they’re wearing frowns on their faces and look entirely upset.

“What’s wrong?” You ask worryingly.

They look at you, and one of them sighs before speaking.

“Somebody lied to us about this party.” One of them says, getting Kristy’s attention.

“What?” She asks.

“We went to grab drinks and had to deal with Kelce and his moron friends around the table.” One of the other girls explains as she begins to pass you and Kristy your new drinks, “She fucking lied to us.”

“Who lied?” You ask.

“The girl that organized the party.” Kristy explains to you, “Is it only Kelce?”

“I don’t know, but I can bet my life that it’s not. When does he ever go to parties on his own?” The first girl speaks again, tone dripping with anger.

“Why would she lie?” You ask them, still not understanding everything just yet.

One of them shrugs, “People at this island do anything to have a gigantic party for no reason. She knows a lot of people are not comfortable with them at parties. She could lie because of that.”

Them.

While the girls continue to discuss and clearly let out their anger by raising their voices, you look around. Your heart has sped up with a little bit of hope, and your eyes begin to scan through the entire crowd of the party.

You look first at the table with the drinks, only to find Kelce shugging some bottle as a few guys cheer him on, but he’s not with them.

Your eyes look over at the house, finding some lights inside turned on and the porch almost completely full of people. Everyone has drinks on their hands up there, and there are all sorts of people around that area. Just from a distance you know you’d never stand in that place. That is not your crowd. They look like the ones who would give you a glare hard enough to bury you into the ground.

When you see him, you’re a lost cause. Your entire body relaxes, and your heart explodes in your chest with excitement. He’s deep in conversation but he seems to be having fun where he’s sitting. You don’t even have time to get a hold of yourself before a shameless smile soon appears on your face.

If only Kristy and the girls weren’t in such a loud conversation, they would’ve noticed the way you stared at Rafe Cameron. Probably would’ve had a stroke too, now that you think of it. You look at him as if he’s the man of your dreams; like he's the only highlighted star in the dark night sky above your head.

Yes, it would totally give them a stroke.

“There she is!” One of the girls says.

Kristy shouts the name of a girl, loud enough for her to hear in the distance and over the music, and you finally turn your attention back to your group. A girl, you assume you’ve seen before since her face seems familiar, smiles at the frowning group of girls as she happily makes her way to all of you.

“Hi, guys! Are you having fun?” She asks happily.

Some people that were just with her turn towards your group, and you notice how all of them are very happy. They’re all smiley and giggly, dancing their way to you.

“You told me they wouldn’t be here.” Kristy is the one that talks to the girl, the owner of the house.

“Who?” She asks confused, her happy tone subsiding when noticing Kristy’s stern voice.

“Rafe and his guys.” Kristy says loudly, sounding very annoyed.

Realization hits the girl and she gives an understanding look at Kristy. She looks somewhat apologetic as she looks at your best friend, and you look at the two of them as they speak.

“I know, I’m sorry. Topper only let me know, like, yesterday, that they were coming.”

“Why didn’t you tell us then?”

“I forgot. I’m sorry.” The girl says right away, “Have they done anything?”

Kristy takes a deep breath and looks at her.

“I don’t think so.”

“So, fuck them!” She says with a bright smile again, “Don’t let them ruin your fun... From I see,” She points in the exact same direction you were just staring at, “They’re in their corner, and you’re in yours. No one will ruin each other’s fun like that.”

Every single person from your group is now staring in the direction of Rafe on the porch. You’re not one to refuse to do such a thing, but you do it while you still can without anyone finding it weird.

“You know I don’t like them.” Kristy tells her, sounding calmer but still affected by this.

The girl lays her hand over Kristy’s arm before speaking.

“I know and I’m sorry. I get it. A lot of people here don’t like them either.” She says while pointing at the crowd of people on top of her grass, “They haven’t done a thing and, from what I’ve been told, they’re all high by now. They won’t leave their corner.”

Kristy sighs yet again, and the girls from your group relax. You look toward the porch, and a small grin appears on your face.

You disconnect your eyes from Rafe’s with a little shake of your head, and Rafe lets a smile appear on his face too.

The girl in front of you smooths her hand over Kristy’s arm, and you watch them as they speak at a lower volume under the music.

The sole reason why Kristy and the girls are so against Rafe is because of both the drugs and the violence his presence follows. They don’t like either of those things and are very proud of it. They prefer parties with no drama, especially, those without people high as a kite or already beating someone’s face in.

Every time you’ve been to parties with them, you’ve never seen it happen. You’ve been to other parties which Rafe was in before, and, even though people said it did happen, you never got to know if that was only rumors.

At those parties, you never get to see his friends, let alone him. You never get to see the fights they allegedly create or them high as everyone says. Again, you only hear the rumors.

“Have fun, okay? I can’t exactly kick them out anymore.” The girl explains.

You look down at your drink as the comforting between the girls continues, and you notice a guy standing beside you. It takes quite a bit for you to even recognize who he is, but you soon come to the conclusion that he’s one of the people that was happily dancing with the girl that just comforted Kristy.

“Hi.” He tells you with a smile when noticing your eyes finally on him.

“Hi.” You answer with a lipped grin instead.

“I’m Jason.” He says while having his hand by his chest.

Rafe watches everything from afar. He’s not in the poker game anymore. He’s simply leaning back on his seat and pretending to watch his friends have fun with some of his money at the center of the table. The glass beer bottle is tight in his hand, all while he moves it around to appear as if he’s just playing with it.

Your smile matches the guy beside you. Rafe has no idea who the guy even is but there is not one cell in his body that likes anything about what he’s watching. Rafe notices as some of your friends look at the two of you as you talk to each other, and they all smile at the guy.

They like him.

Jaw clenched and fist tightening around the bottle’s neck, Rafe continues to watch as the guy, in the middle of his chuckling, lays his hand on your back. The touch could’ve only lasted a few seconds, but everyone knows time slows down every time you see something you don’t like.

You don’t move away from the guy's touch due to the fact that it feels friendly to you. Jason's hand moves and stays on your shoulder, leaving some squeezes behind whenever he emphasizes his words.

You sip your drink, laughing at the guy all while his friends have begun to walk away and happily leave him with you. Your best friend also seems to disappear, going off to the crowd of dancing bodies to have some fun with the girls from your group. Rafe watches as they all shine smiles at you and leave you with the guy - one who hasn’t shut up yet.

“You alright there, man?” Topper’s voice breaks through Rafe’s thoughts.

Rafe blinks and looks over at his friend, relaxing his grip on the bottle and teeth-breaking clenching of his jaw before giving him a nod.

He mumbles a few words of reassurance of how he’s fine and just having a bit of a hard trip for a second or two, and that seems to be enough for Topper to leave him alone and get back to the game.

Rafe stares ahead for a few seconds before looking back at you once more. You nod at something the guy tells you, answering only in a few words, and this man just continues to talk, and talk.

It has been a few minutes of conversation and that is when Rafe first notices your slight attempt at distancing yourself from the guy, making his hand finally fall from your shoulder.

A few people walk in front of you two, blocking Rafe’s field of view for just a few seconds, and, when they move away, you’re still there and talking to the guy. His hand isn't on your shoulder yet Rafe can tell it’s not by his side either. He watches as you sip your drink for a long time while the boy talks.

“No, it’s fine.” You tell the guy beside you.

His hand is resting on the small of your back, and, even though you're uncomfortable, you don’t want to rudely push him away. You’ve already tried to get his hand off your shoulder and succeeded for just a second until he had to just lay his hand on you somewhere else. You don’t want to seem like a bitch to the guy, but it’s getting harder as he keeps going.

“So, and the guy was like ‘why did you do that to me’ and I told him,” He pauses, “Simply,” He emphasizes, “‘You messed with the wrong guy’.”

Jason chuckles at his own words and you force yourself to offer him fake a grin, trying to match his energy as he continues to tell the story.

“All of my friends were laughing at him too. It was so embarrassing for him.” He tells you, smiling at the memory.

You nod as if you haven’t totally lost the plot of his story.

“And that’s when he tried to punch me. The guy was so drunk he didn’t even get a good one on me. It felt more like a bitch slap, you know?” He only moves on when you nod, “And then, I punched him back, and the guy just fell on the floor.”

His hand moves to your hip, and you jump slightly at the feeling of him squeezing it.

“I remember all of my guys screaming at me to beat him up. It was in-sane!” He cackles yet again after separating the simple word in a pause to emphasize it.

You continue to stare at him with your fake grin.

“The guy was so drunk, he probably doesn’t even remember the beat up he got.” He says to you happily, “Learned his lesson, though.”

You force a fake chuckle and decide to ask him the main information about the story - the one you totally should've heard but were too worried about pretending to pay attention to instead.

“What did he do, again?” You ask him softly.

“Touched my girl at the time.”

You let out a little ‘oh’ and break your shared gazes. You don’t seem to like looking at him for too long, something in him feels weird for some reason. You, instead, look towards the crowd, trying to look for Kristy or any of the girls so that they can take you away from here.

You’ve thought of at least 3 escape routes, but all of them include the possibility of failure due to Jason offering to take you there. You almost feel stuck with him. No matter what you could do, you don’t seem to be able to get away from him.

Jason’s hand lifts from your hip, and your entire body relaxes. You look at him with that and, instead, you see his hand coming close to your shoulder yet again. You look at him weirdly and notice how his hand is moving towards your dress’s strap. Your eyes control all of his movements as he untwists the strap. For a naive second, you think of his action to be nothing but nice, but soon you lift your eyes and notice his stare down at you.

His palm now rests on your shoulder again and, while looking into your eyes, he takes a step closer.

“You have really beautiful eyes.” He comments.

“Thanks.”

“Do you happen to be free on Monday?”

What follows next is what makes you back down. His eyes fall from your eyes to your chest in the middle of his sentence. His gaze down at your cleavage probably didn’t even last a second, but it was enough for you to feel overly uncomfortable and bring a hand closer to your chest, blocking his view.

You take a quick step to the side, letting his hand fall from your shoulder finally, and you begin to make your way away from him.

“Can’t. I have to tutor.” You simply tell him before quickly getting away.

Jason is left behind dumbfounded. It takes him a little to move from the place he’s standing in, but, when he does move, he still tries to look for you in the crowd. It’s impossible, but he tries. He walks around for a bit and looks through a lot of groups of people dancing and screaming, but it’s like you’ve completely disappeared.

He lets a curse-word leave his lips, letting himself blame his attitude for making you leave. He bites his tongue before sighing dramatically, and his eyes circle around the party, looking for his friends again. Probably the only ones that won’t walk away like this. 

His eyes scan the crowd near him and, soon after, the porch of the house when he sees some people going up the stairs. He tries to find them there, maybe talking to someone or getting drinks from the inside of the house, but all he finds is just another crowd. 

Jason mumbles the lyrics of the song as he walks, and that’s when he meets the eye of someone. Rafe Cameron is sitting on the porch and glaring right at him. Jason swallows in dry and stays frozen where he stands.

He shouldn’t have touched his girl.

(...)

You pull the door open of the house and slip inside. No one is really in here and as soon as the door closes behind you, the loud sound of the music is muffled, letting your ears ring after so those hours under those speakers.

You were able to get away from Kristy after complaining to her about Jason. She went overprotective mode right away, even to the point of not letting you go run to the house to pee.

You look around while a little lost in the hallways to find the bathroom. You even test out some of the doors, only to find them locked. The house almost seems like a maze. You found the kitchen better than the bathroom, and, from what Kristy told you, the kitchen is on the complete opposite side of the house.

Taking steps back, you begin to find your way to where you started to look for the bathroom yet again. You hear the door that leads outside open and close, and you’re still facing the hallway, absolutely lost.

“Door to the left.” A familiar voice says in the empty hallway.

You smile before turning around, finding none other than Rafe. He’s standing just around the corner, away from the door, and looking at you with a small smile. His hands are behind his back, but you don’t notice the reason just yet.

You happily walk over to him, and, right as the two of you stand glued to each other, Rafe watches you silently with his grin.

You stand on the tips of your toes and lay your hands on his cheeks. Your lips connect with a kiss, so slow and so soft, that it makes you regret ever not sneaking out of your house in all these days to be near him. You hum against his lips when Rafe chases the kiss as you lay your feet back on the ground, and you're able to finally pull away.

“Where were you?” You ask him. “Didn’t see you at the table just now.”

“Went on a walk.”

You frown at him cutely, and Rafe kisses you again, making the frown disappear from your face as your tongue slides inside his mouth. Your thumbs smooth over his cheeks, and you find yourself leaning closer to him, wanting his hands on you. Rafe never moves to hold you, he simply kisses you back.

No matter his attempt, as soon as you two pulled away from the kiss, your frown hasn’t disappeared. You stare into his eyes, noticing his dilated pupils, and you lift your hands from his face. You stare at him, and Rafe sees how weird you’re acting all of a sudden.

You break your eye contact to look at the door he talked about, and you walk over to it. Rafe watches as you turn the doorknob and open the door to the bathroom. You click on the lights, and he watches from afar. You look over your shoulder at him, and Rafe doesn’t need anything else before following you in.

That is when you first notice his hands constantly behind his back. He closes the door behind him with his foot and continues to have his eyes trained on you the entire time. He notices your staring, but he never begins to move his hands.

“What is it?” You ask him.

“Nothing. Just need to wash them.”

“Why?” You ask in a small voice, not wanting to annoy him with your questions.

He grins at your interest but only shakes his head at you. He won’t tell you the reason why, yet something in you keeps on telling you that you should push him to know more.

“Turn around.”

You stay in place and remain quiet for a good long moment. Rafe stares at you, and you stare at how his arms keep his hands behind his back.

“Just show me.”

Rafe hesitates, but he eventually does what you ask him to. His forearms appear first and then, so do his hands. He reads you as you first look at them. Blood-stained hands with wounded knuckles.

You don't lift your gaze to his eyes, but your heart is beating rapidly and you know you’ve stopped to breathe for a moment or two.

It’s a very sheer layer of blood. It seems like it only dripped on some places and got smudged all throughout his hands. Yet even though you're facing his bloody knuckles, you know that’s not the same blood as the one on his skin.

You take a step closer to him, and your hands lift towards him. Rafe moves them away, making you finally look up at him again.

“What happened?” You ask him.

The tone of your voice is so worried and so low that it almost makes Rafe’s heart crack. You’re worried, deeply worried. But not about anything that he could’ve done. You’re worried about him.

Rafe doesn’t move his hands away, and your fingers finally touch his palms. You look down as your hands touch his, and, soon, your skin stains too.

“Got into a fight.” He says in a low tone of voice.

“With who?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and you look at your joined hands as your fingers are becoming smudged. Rafe keeps his eyes on you, trying to decipher what you could be doing, but, in reality, not even you know.

You expected this to be enough to make you pull away. This is the confirmation of the rumors not being just rumors, after all. Rafe does do drugs and does get into fights. He’s an addict and a violent person. He’s the exact same person that Kristy is scared you would ever come across when coming to the bathroom. You’re not supposed to be near him. No one wants you near him.

“Is it your blood?”

“No.”

You lift your eyes at him, and while standing in the silence that it's set between you two, you’re with your own thoughts yet again.

They haunt your mind for quite a bit. Makes you think back on how you should not be doing this or should have done this in the first place. Yet when you really look at Rafe, there's a complete wipe of all of that. It's enough to forget all about everything that you shouldn’t do and everything that he does and that should keep you away.

You finally answer with a nod of acknowledgment to his words, and that is when Rafe moves. He walks towards you, and you back away like you want him to. Your ass hits the counter of the bathroom, and Rafe glues you to his body. He brings his head down and whispers in your face.

“Why were you all sad just now?” You don’t say anything yet, and he lowers his head to keep it near yours, “Hm?”

“Just thinking.”

“Were you thinking too when you got in here?”

You almost have to think back on what happened, making it seem as if it has been hours since it happened. But, it doesn’t take you long to understand exactly what Rafe is talking about.

“No.” A small shy grin shows up on your face, “That was something else.”

Rafe gives you an amused yet confused look, making your grin break into an actual smile. You break eye contact with him and shake your head.

“I’m not telling you. It’s embarrassing.” You whisper so, so low, and Rafe had to lean in to hear you better.

You bring your eyes back to him, and he’s staring thoughtfully. You bite in your smile and try to stop making yourself so lost for the man before you. You pull your hands away from his and put them behind your back too, laying them over the bathroom sink. Rafe stares down at you and doesn’t say a single thing, he simply moves to lay his blood-stained hands just beside your body - staining the contour in the meantime.

You’re not sure for how long the two of you stay in silence, staring at one another. Rafe is the one that breaks the silence by moving over to reach for the bathroom door. You follow his movements with your eyes and see him turn the key of the lock, making it click into place.

You bring your eyes back to him and swallow, feeling some sort of heat already begin to grow on your lower belly.

You shake your head at him with a tight lipped grin.

“What?” He asks you.

“We can’t do anything here.” You tell him sternly.

“Who said we would?” He asks you, making his expression break with a smile, “We’re just talking.”

It doesn’t take you long to take advantage of how distracted he is to ask the question that has stayed unanswered and been on your mind for a while.

“Who did you fight?” You ask then.

Rafe’s smile falters but, strangely, you don’t feel your body react to that, you just continue to stare at him as he stays leaned down.

“You don’t know him.” He simply says, preferring to lie.

“Okay… Why did you fight him, then?” You ask him, lifting your head to look at him better.

Rafe doesn’t want to answer, so he cuts your awaiting silence with a kiss. Your hands almost move to hold on to him, but you soon remember how your hands are dirty so you keep them behind your back. Rafe roughens the kiss at the lack of your touch, and that makes a little noise come out of you.

You’re the one that pulls away from the kiss, making Rafe look down at you with a serious expression. Your body still doesn’t react to it. You’re not scared or intimidated by anything that he does, and, even though highly strange, you’re quite happy it happens.

You turn around while still standing in between Rafe and the counter, and you face the sink. You turn on the water and, without even a word, you begin to wash the blood away from your hands. Rafe watches you and, when he lays a kiss on the side of your head, your gaze meets in the mirror. You offer him a grin.

“You should wash yours too, you know?” You playfully tell him.

Rafe teasingly leans in closer to you, trapping you way more forcefully between him and the sink. You can feel how hard he is on your back, through both his shorts and the fabric of your dress, and that seriously dissociates you from reality for a good few seconds.

Rafe washes his hands in front of you and leans his head down to have it just beside yours. You’re completely trapped so you’re left to watch him. You watch his hands move under the water, then move to go grab some soap, and all of it as you watch patiently.

When he’s done, you watch as he, without ever moving away from you, grabs the towel and hands it to you too. You giggle at how random this whole thing is, and Rafe watches you laugh through the mirror. He still has both arms at each of your sides and is still trapping you. When you’re done drying your hands, you pass him the towel and lift your eyes back to the mirror.

Both looking at one another, you can’t hold back on your smile when you grind your ass over the obvious bulge on his shorts. Rafe moves way quick. He gives you a glare and then squeezes you between him and the sink further. A smile appears on his face, and he lets the towel fall on the ground to grab onto you.

“What happened to ‘we can’t do anything here’?” He asks you with his tone of voice low.

You offer him a shrug, and his hands lift from your hips. He leans his hips away from you for just a second, and you feel him pull at the skirt of your dress. His fingers get to touch the skin of your thighs and that only makes you let him do it further. Rafe’s eyes are not on yours anymore, his eyes look at what he’s doing, and, suddenly, you feel his hands grip onto your asscheeks. He squeezes them and slightly spreads them apart. All of it.

He lets go, looks at you for just a few silent seconds and wraps an arm around your torso, pulling you flush against his chest. You look up at him and feel his hand still under the fabric of your dress, now smoothing down at your stomach and moving downwards. His hand lays over your underwear first, palming your pussy and making you gasp in the silence of the bathroom.

Rafe looks down at you as you rest your head back on him, and he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Do you want me to?” He asks, and you nod right away. “We might not have much time.” You nod yet again, and he kisses your lips.

You pull away from the kiss and bring your hand to lay on top of his. You move it, and your head turns to face the mirror again. Rafe takes control yet again and, with your hand still on top, he moves your panties to the side. His eyes look at you through the mirror, and he leans his head against yours, always wanting you glued to him.

His fingers finally move and they quickly meet your wetness. He exhales out a laugh with it and kisses the side of your head.

“You’re fucking soaked.” He whispers at the same time your eyes meet in the mirror.

His finger moves over to your swollen clit, and your hips move against him at the sudden feeling. You bite your bottom lip slightly and try to stay quiet as he moves a few times.

Rafe moves you back against the counter, and your hands meet the cold stone all over again. Rafe pulls his hand away from your pussy but puts some pressure on your back to have you lean over the counter. You watch as he quickly adjusts your dress over your ass. You hum at the sensation of one of his hands digging into the flesh of your ass, all before his fingers of his other hand move between the lips of your pussy and slip inside of you.

All of it lasts only a few moments because Rafe is quick to pull away and begin to unbutton and unzip his shorts. You lean a little more into the counter as you can only hear him do his undressing and soon one of his hands comes to hold onto your hip.

The tip of his cock is aligned with your entrance, and you feel him slide in right after. One of your hands grabs onto the sink, and Rafe grunts slightly behind you, all while you try to hold yourselves together. With your ass glued to his hips, the both of you breathe out, and you straighten up a little bit.

Both of Rafe’s hands hold your hips into place before he finally starts to move. The thrusts are still soft and not too fast, all of it just as you get slowly used to him and his size all over again. His eyes are trained on the way his dick disappears inside of you, all while being squeezed by your soaked walls. Rafe only begins to speed up when he feels you relax under his hands.

Small moans come out of your closed mouth every time Rafe thrusts inside of you, and forces you closer to him. Only to hear every sound before he speeds up or roughens everything that he’s doing.

As you straighten up to the point of almost leaning against Rafe’s chest, you hold onto the counter and continue to try and keep quiet. Your dress’s skirt sways with your body's movements, and Rafe leans in when thrusting deeper into you to have his lips on your neck. He kisses, licks and nips at every inch of your skin available to him, yet it’s only when his lips reach your shoulder that his mind reminds him of Jason’s hands on you. The guy touched you from your shoulder to your hip, looking down at you and making you laugh. You let him do it.

You feel Rafe’s hands on your hips tighten and his thrusts roughen all of a sudden. You lean your head back against his chest while continuously trying harder and harder to keep quiet, but it keeps on getting arduous as Rafe continues to be rougher with you.

You look up at the mirror again, only to find him looking at you as if in a continuous glare. You look over your shoulder but, before you even get to look at him, you are met with a kiss.

It’s messy and hard. The type of kiss that almost feels like it’s going to bruise your lips with how rough it is. You moan against Rafe’s mouth when trying to pull away, but his hand lifts from your hip over to your head, holding onto it by your hair and trapping you in. You kiss back, trying to not whimper with how much your body is burning, but all of you reacts top everything that he does.

Rafe pulls away from the kiss, staring down at your slightly swollen lips, wet with both of your saliva and his, and his eyes lift to yours.

He brings his face closer to you again, making it appear as if he’s going to kiss you again, and his hand tightens on your hair before he whispers onto your lips.

“Who do you belong to?”

His free hand on your hip lifts, and he wraps his arm around your torso tightly, holding you and moving you almost as if you’re some sort of doll he’s happy to manhandle. You whimper at the sudden deeper thrusts from the way he moves you, and Rafe smiles maleficently in front of your face. His grip on your hair worsens, and you gasp.

“Who do you belong to, uh?” He asks firmly and slowly.

“Y-you, Rafe.”

“Are you sure?” He says while moving your head exactly how he wants to.

“Yes. Only you, I promise.” You nod at him.

Rafe’s lips come back to yours, and you lean in closer to him, mewling into the kiss and accepting all that he has to give you. He pulls away and looks down at you again. His thrusts never slow down, and you lean against his hand on your head, feeling the flame in your belly worsen every time he looks at you.

“You promise?” He repeats your words.

You nod, and he pulls your head to steady it.

“Say it.”

“Yes, yes. I promise.”

He grunts into a thrust at the feeling of your pussy squeezing him more and more, and you bring one of your hands to his arm around you, trying to steady yourself. Your touch over his is so light and loving, it almost infuriates Rafe further.

Rafe leans into your ear and watches you through the mirror as you move through your pleasure.

“Let a guy flirt with you one more fucking time,” He begins, “You’re going to pay. Got it?” You nod, your mind going blank. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” You moan out the word.

Rafe lets go of your hair, and you look up at the mirror to meet his gaze. Your face is twisted in pleasure, all while he looks at you and holds you with such force, you’re scared he might bruise you. He kisses your jaw, and you quickly lean in closer to him, letting you relax and a little sob escape your lips all of a sudden.

Rafe smiles with his head beside yours and brings his hand to your chin to hold your head in place.

“Are you gonna cry?” He asks, and you try to shake your head, even when an obvious pout is forming on your face, “Why are you going to cry, hm?”

“F-feels so-so good.” You sob out the words.

“I always make you feel good, don’t I, princess?” He asks you, and you nod, teary-eyed, “Oh, my little crybaby.”

You moan at the teasing nickname, and he kisses your cheek. All of his affection is followed by either harsher thrusts or tightening holds of your hips or face, but you don’t ever feel close to complaining ever. Your entire body is burning, pleasure is high, and you seriously are starting to feel lightheaded.

“My pretty pretty crybaby.” He repeats on your ear, feeling your cunt squeeze him tighter. “No one else can make you feel like this, baby, you got it?” You nod at him.

“Yes.”

Rafe’s hand lifts from your face and disappears under the swinging skirt of your dress. You almost scream at the sensation of his fingers slightly pinching your clit in the middle of all of this, but Rafe’s lips muffle close to everything. The sound of the thrusts is so harsh and wet, it’s all so nasty yet so amazing to listen to.

“Rafe.” You whisper, out of breath, when pulling away from the kiss.

“Gonna cum?” He asks, and you turn your head to him.

You plead to him with every bit of your face, with your teary eyes with a small pout. You pull every card in the game and that only makes the man stare at you with a smile.

“Do you deserve it?” He asks you.

“Yes.”

That makes him exhale out another laugh. He can always give you a pass today.

“Then you can cum.” He whispers against your pouty lips.

It doesn’t even take a full thrust or circle of his fingers on your clit, your orgasm hits you with such force, you can’t even feel your body. Your eyes get consumed with white spots, your mind goes blank and an entire set of fireworks of pure pleasure erupts throughout your body. Rafe can’t let go of you, so he lifts his hand from your clit to cover your mouth. Your cries are loud and so are your moans overall. All of it would’ve made anyone know what could be going on in the bathroom, even if they were just by the door that leads outside.

Rafe unsurprisingly doesn’t take long to follow you into the orgasm. You’re squeezing him so tight and growing so wet, his body can only take in so much. His arm impossibly tightens around you and holds you so close to him as he tries to bite in his noises too.

After the orgasm, everything feels like too much for a good few seconds. Rafe’s hands on you, or even his continuous thrusts. It makes you whimper under his palm at the sensitivity that seems to consume your entire body, yet Rafe does not let go of you. You pull his hand away from your mouth and breath heavily, feeling your legs and arms shake vigorously.

You feel Rafe’s cum fill you yet that doesn’t strike your sensitivity, not even when Rafe keeps his hips glued to your ass. He has his head just beside yours and he’s heavily breathing too. You look at yourself in the mirror. You’re sweaty, with your hair messy, and makeup a little ruined with your tears and slight sweat. Overall it really looks like you had your fun.

“You okay?” Rafe whispers at you.

You look at him through the mirror at the sound of his voice. You nod at him and offer him a tired smile.

You bring both of your hands back to the counter, and Rafe begins to pull out of you slowly. You grip onto the stone and bite down on your lip to not make any sound. He breathes out when it’s done and puts back on his clothes. Before you can even move, you feel Rafe’s fingers at the entrance of your swollen cunt, not letting his cum slip out.

You open your mouth to gasp but are met with his lips against your own. You bring your arm over to behind his neck and relax into the kiss. It's so, so soft, you're not even sure if you're even kissing the same person.

Rafe adjusts your underwear into place and pulls away from the kiss to look you in the eyes.

“I have to tell you something.” He says before leaning in and kissing your shoulder.

His tone worries and you can tell, but he places another reassuring kiss on you.

“It’s nothing bad.” He says with a little smile, and you relax.

You look over your shoulder at him. He adjusts your dress, and you quickly turn around to face him, trying to get used to your still trembling legs.

“I need to go out of the island for two weeks with my dad.” He says.

You’re relieved to know that it’s something as light as this, but that same relief only lasts about two seconds because disappointment consumes the entirety of your face. Rafe notices the way your eyes are saddened, and your lips form that tiny pout all over again.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He whispers, “But I can call you. And I'll come to see you right as I get back.”

“When are you leaving?” You ask him, voice soft yet obviously sad.

“Tomorrow morning.”

Your heart squeezes a tiny bit, and Rafe’s hand comes up to your face. He wipes, with his thumb, the smudged makeup from under your eyes, and then cups your cheek softly. You bring your hand to his chest and grip the fabric of his shirt.

“How early are you leaving?” You ask him in a whisper.

“About 10, probably.” You nod.

You grab his hand on your cheek away and kiss him. It’s a simple kiss but the two of you don’t mind. It’s sweet, and it’s all controlled by you. Rafe wraps his arms around you entirely, and your hands come to cradle his face.

Outside of the house, the next song is louder than the previous ones and that is what gets the two of you to understand how long you’ve been inside the small bathroom. Rafe pulls away from the kiss first and looks down at you, admiring every bit of your perfect face.

“I’ll get out first.” He tells you, and you nod.

His hold on you lessens, and you quickly pull him in just one more kiss. He lets you kiss him and, when you do pull away, he unlocks the door and pulls it open. You take a look at the hallway to find it empty before Rafe steps out, and you can only give him a small smile.

“Text me.” You tell him, and he smiles.

“I will.”

You close the door, and Rafe is quick to walk back outside to his friends.

You only get out of the house minutes after him. You ended up actually using the bathroom and washing your hands, adjusting your dress and hair. And only then, walked back out.

Rafe keeps his eyes on you as you make your way down the steps of the porch and begin to look for your friends, never sparing him a look. He forces himself to look back down at his cards and notices how his gold ring shines with the light above him. The small details on its center still have blood on them, but his hands are clean with no trace of what happened. All except for his healing tiny wounds. His are clean and so are yours, ones that were stained with blood just like his because you wanted them to.

Rafe’s eyes lift over to you again, and he finds you talking to Kristy. Your eyes lift to him too, and the two of you stare at one another for just a little longer. He knows it, and you know it too. You’re his and no one else’s.

Hope you liked this one part as well! <3 I loved writing this sooo much. Thank you for the request!

Feedback is always appreciated on my blog <3

[fotibrit]

The Wrong hands - rewrite/addition of a scene in IM1

2289 words

“JARVIS, you up?” Tony knows the answer already, but in an effort to encourage the AI to interact as human-like as possible, he has developed a habit of talking to the systems as if they are as unpredictable as people.

The response from the AI is as expected, but Tony’s lips twitch into a small smile as the robot replies, “For you, sir, always”. What reliable friends he has.

“I’d like to open a new project file, indexed as Mark Two”

Jarvis is quick to clarify, possibly sensing the careful manner Tony phrased the request. “Shall I store this on the Stark Industries central database?”

The mechanic stood as he fiddled with the mechanics of the new suit. Jarvis had always been the smarter of them two. Tony had been too focused on the projection in front of him to clarify his line of thinking. Sometimes he forgets that JARVIS can’t read his mind.

“Actually, I don't know who to trust right now.” Tony hopes that explaining the reasoning for his decisions will help keep JARVIS on the same page as him. In some strange way, it also helps him to say it out loud. He doesn't know who to trust right now. There are people he works with, people he lives with, who represent the exact opposite of what he wants the company to be. Those people cannot be allowed to see his latest project. He’s on his own. “Until further notice, why don't you just keep everything in my private server?”

“Working on a secret project, are we, sir?”

JARVIS’s response takes the mechanic a bit by surprise. It may be Tony’s imagination, but the AI sounds almost judgemental, like he disapproves of how Tony is handling the project. Tony is aware that it matters nearly none what the AI thinks of Mark Two, but he still feels a distinct need to explain himself. He feels as if he is fifteen years old again, trying to impress his butler and never quite feeling like he achieves it. Tony takes a few seconds to respond, pushing back the instinct to be defensive. He has nothing to hide from JARVIS. He just needs to explain.

“I don't want this winding up in the wrong hands.” He remembers the wrong hands, the hands that shoved him around the cave and nearly forced Yinsen to swallow hot metal. The wrong hands, the ones that press a button to launch a missile without thinking twice about the repercussions. His hands used to be the wrong hands. Now he has to fight like hell to make sure his are never the wrong hands again.

“Maybe in mine it can actually do some good.”

Tony watches the hologram of his prototype spin for a few seconds before walking back over to his desk and sitting down.

How despicable he must seem to everyone. He looks down at his own hands, the ones that used to design weapons of mass destruction and throw parties when strangers bought them. A merchant of death. He wonders how many innocent people have spent their last seconds staring at a Stark Technologies logo as the weapon attached to the logo worked exactly as he designed. And now, here he is, designing yet another machine with the power to kill.

The difference, he assures himself, is that nobody else will touch this one. This suit will be his and his alone.

“J, go ahead and tint the windows. I don’t want anyone seeing this.”

The windows that open to unrestricted areas darken before JARVIS is able to respond.

“Right away, sir. Shall I restrict which access codes function as well?”

“Yeah, I don’t need anyone coming in. Thanks buddy.”

“Understood. I’ve restricted access codes, and only yours will grant access to this room until further notice.”

Right. Tony has an access code too. Tony glances towards the door, having forgotten briefly that other people existed in his vicinity. When he’s working, he tends to forget that he himself is a person. He thinks of himself as simply a more advanced machine, and being reminded that other people don't view him as the same startles him for a second, until he shakes his head to clear his mind. He needs to focus.

“These plans-” Tony sits back at his desk to admire the holographic design “-cannot leave this room. Nobody out of this room can access them, ‘kay? Not even Obie.”

“Understood, sir. Speaking of Mr. Stane, he has sent a message to confirm that there is a meeting tom-”

“Ignore him. He told me to lie low-” Tony turns away from the holographic machinery and focuses his attention instead on the physical machinery at his workstation “-and lie low I will. Especially tomorrow.”

Tony feels badly about locking his business partner out, but the way Obediah had looked at the miniaturized arc reactor after Tony made his announcement… He seemed almost hungry. Obie would have to be kept at an arm's distance until he proved himself to be on board with the new plan.

Even if the new plan isn't what his father would have liked.

Once Tony had identified the stabilization problem with his boots, his hands worked separate from his mind, twisting bolts and assessing joints. He absentmindedly muttered requests from DUM-E, who handed him wrenches and bolts. Tony’s mind is elsewhere.

The last time he had worked on a secret project, it got someone he cared about killed. The last time he put fire to metal, it had been with someone planning their own death looking over his shoulder.

How many people had died because of Tony’s ideas? Tony only knew one personally, and even that is too much to bear. Yinsen may have been the only person in the world who befriended Tony without expecting anything in return. And Tony killed him.

Yinsen had been right to call him “the man who has everything, and nothing.” Meanwhile, the man who had nothing and everything was murdered at Tony’s hands with the same technology that he's currently working to improve.

As his mind wanders, his breathing becomes more difficult and the machine in his chest suddenly seems much more alien than it had minutes prior. Tony became aware of how it pinched his skin when he inhaled too deeply. His skin feels too tight, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead itchy, and he has a strange feeling that someone is watching him.

Tony notices, with a twisting sensation in his stomach, that his hands are shaking. He drops the tool that he had been using and stares at his own palm in horror. It’s as if his own body is betraying him to prevent him from making another weapon.

JARVIS’s sudden voice makes Tony jump, and he becomes aware of how abnormally fast his heart is beating. What is wrong? He continues staring at his hand as JARVIS speaks. “Sir, Miss. Potts asked me to remind you that you need to sleep tonight. You have not slept since returning.”

Tony had forgotten that he planned on going to bed at midnight. Clearly, Tony had been more optimistic earlier in the day. Now, with the calm quiet of night upon him, Tony is not eager to abandon his work to be alone with his thoughts in bed. The last time he slept, he half expected never to wake again, to die with a failing magnet strapped to his chest. Now, the comfortable bed feels like the wrong place for his marred and scarred body. He has a strange feeling that something is wrong, that he needs to stay here, and until he can identify the problem that's making his heart race and his hands shake, he will not be moving.

Tony clears his throat before speaking, testing how reliable his voice is. “Changed my mind, J. It's not snooze time yet.”

The mechanic tears his eyes from his hand and presses it to his side, turning his eyes back onto the project in front of him, waiting for something in the wiring to catch his attention. He’s not entirely sure where to go from here, and memories of the humid cave keep coming back to him. The lights seem too bright, giving him a headache. Something feels wrong.

“I need the lights a bit more dim, J. And get the air conditioner running in here, why don't you.”

Tony doesn't hear the reply, too focused on the strange feeling building in the back of his neck. Is someone watching him?

Keeping his head lowered, he flicks his wrist to pull up the security footage of his lab. Nobody is behind him.

He whips around in his chair and sees nothing. An empty room. It still feels like someone is watching him. In the back of his mind, he realizes he might be going crazy.

He turns back to his project and tries to let the mechanics take over his mind. He asks JARVIS to shuffle his work playlist, and tries to make his mind go blank. It takes a few minutes of staring at his project blankly, but soon the familiar schematics overtake the panic in his chest and he goes to work once more.

It takes a few minutes of him working silently for him to figure out what was wrong, and the realization comes when he accepts a wrench handed to him by DUM-E and his throat tightens again.

Tony shoves the table to send himself flying backwards in his rolling chair, putting his hands on his face.

Fuck.

That cave was going to haunt him forever. The humidity in this room, likely manufactured by his imagination, coupled with the feeling of being watched, and the horrifying silence of the room, broken only by metallic clangs and whirring… he feels like he is in the cave again. it takes everything in him to stay grounded.

Before the cave, he hadn't accepted help in his workshop. In the cave, he had to. Now, after months of requesting pieces and help from Yinsen in the cave, the same requests being directed at DUM-E must have sent the ghost of Yinsen into his skin. Even now, he can hear the voice he’s been fighting hard to forget and move past.

“This is a very important week for you!”

Yinsens' words echo in Tony’s mind, and for a moment, visions of the fire and guns and grime overtake him.

“JARVIS, read vitals” Tony keeps his head in his hands, trying to fight off the feeling of rising dread originating from the hard metallic device in his chest.

“BP 140/90, Pulse 112 beats per minute. You seem to be in distress. Shall I send for medical aid?”

“No, no, I'm fine, give me a second.” Tony tries first to get his breathing under control enough to get his heart rate slowed. How had he fallen apart so quickly?

Snippets of his time in the cave come back to him, mismatched and confusing, each scene more repulsive than the last. A camera pointed at his face as his vision fades in and out, fifty guns aiming toward him as he speaks to save Yinsens life, waking up with wires in his chest, watching his friend die for him…

Tony lets his hands drop from his face, keeping his eyes closed, and one hand presses flat against the metallic disc embedded in his chest while the other forms a fist and punches his own leg. The dull pain seems to help ground him to his surroundings, so he repeats the motion, over and over, until he feels secure enough to chance looking up.

Tony opened his eyes and caught a glance of himself in the reflective glass lining his lab. His hair looks wild and untamed, and his shoulders slump in a way which his father would have chastised him for, if his father had been here. Most noticeable are his eyes, prominent because of the deep shadows beneath them. He does not look like himself.

He looks nothing like the man he must pretend to be, if he’s going to pull the company back to the right side of history.

“Hey JARVIS, got anything to make sure I sleep through the night?” Although aimed at the only other being in the room, Tony stared at the gaunt figure reflected back at him as he asked the question.

“I can request five milligrams of Prazosin from the clinic, which can be available in the next ten minutes. Shall I put in the request?”

“Make it ten milligrams, and before you say anything, I don't care about the side effects. Spare me.” Tony watched the man in the reflection speak, still barely able to understand how that wild creature is him.

Maybe he really is going crazy.

“Oh, and wipe all footage and audio of Lab 39 for the time I was in here.” Tony gives a small chuckle, and adds as a sort of afterthought, “I don’t need the board questioning my sanity too.”

Tony finally tears his eyes away from the man in the reflection and puts his hands on his knees to push himself to his feet. With a twinge of satisfaction, he notices that his left knee is sore in the spot his fist had hit repeatedly. He might have a bruise.

Tony claps his hands and surveys the room. “I’ll be back tomorrow, U, don’t worry.” He addresses his hydraulic arm with affection before grabbing his coat on the way out of the lab.

He would certainly be back. He has work to do. But first, hopefully whatever drug the clinic sends up knocks him out enough that he can get a few hours of rest in.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Ten (Part 2)

I smile and shake my head, because I’m sure that I won’t be. Jude shuffles on the bed to readjust himself, and when he settles, his leg is resting against mine. It’s warm, mine feels cold. I notice it and wait for him to move but he doesn’t, so I just let our skin touch, and I get a shiver from my toes to the top of my head.

“When you go to Berlin,” I start. “Will you know anybody else there?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m going on my own, which I’m kind of excited about.”

“Scared though?”

“Yeah, a little bit I suppose. More excited.”

“I think I’d be scared to leave and be away from everybody I know.”

“Yeah, I get that, but I wasn’t really thinking that way when I applied for university there, it was honestly more about the experience I’d have and what I’d learn from doing my degree there.” He shrugs “Plus when I applied I didn’t actually think I’d be going on my own.” 

“No?”

“My girlfriend at the time and I applied together, actually, but she didn’t get in. It was brutal, we got our letters on the same day. Art schools work like that sometimes, they send their offers out earlier than other courses because your Leaving Cert points aren’t important. I got accepted and she didn’t, so it was a bad day.”

“So you decided to go alone anyway?”

“Yeah it felt like the best choice for me, I just didn’t see myself being in Ireland anymore, I don’t want to waste my early twenties in this horrible recession, and I don’t want to graduate into it with no job prospects. I just need to get away from it.”

“and your girlfriend?”

“We broke up. We called it quits before our exams. I didn’t want to put her through the long distance thing, like, honestly I didn’t want to put myself through it, because I knew I couldn't handle that. I really just… I don't want any attachments when I go, like, no responsibilities towards anybody else. Having a relationship while trying to navigate the changes that are ahead of me,” He shakes his head. “It would be too hard.”

“Wow. How long were you together?”

“Almost a year.”

That seems like forever to me. Nobody I know has been in a relationship for that long. “It must have been a hard decision.”

“It was, she’s a great person.”

“Well you can always get back together at some point in the future, you know, like maybe someday when you graduate…” I don’t continue because he’s already shaking his head no. 

“I don’t think so – It’s just over, I can’t really see us picking up where we left off, like, nothing to do with her or the relationship per se. It’s just that I feel like I can’t ever go backwards, once it’s done, it’s done for me. I just don’t really hang on to other people in that way.”

I think about how I do. I’m a clinger and I always have been, so his philosophy on life is totally foreign to me, just like the idea of jetting off to some unknown city all on my own without speaking the language or knowing how a single thing in its society operates. I think that he’s much braver than I am for doing it, but I’m a little sad that he’s going. Maybe in a parallel universe he and I would have attended the same art college and been friends who hung around in Dublin together after our respective classes, sitting outside coffee shops in the city and talking about art and sculpture and our silly assignments, but none of that will happen. In a few weeks he’ll be gone forever and I will likely never get to see him again. 

I look down at our legs and move mine away from his. Perhaps it’s not a good idea for us to be touching after all. 

“You look a little sleepy.” He says to me gently, and I am. I’m more than sleepy. It’s so late now that I must be awake for almost forty hours straight, running purely on the last shreds of adrenaline from being with him, but as soon as he mentions sleep my eyelids feel so heavy, and even the hard, flat wall that my back rests against feels cosy. I’m certain I could doze off in this exact position. I admit it, “I am.”

“Then sleep. I’ll leave.”

“Okay.”

He makes a tiny movement towards me and then hesitates and begins to get up. “Okay Evie, I’ll see you again soon.” 

I reach out my weary arms for a hug goodbye and when he leans in to embrace me my face grazes his neck, and he’s warm and his arms are strong and I wonder what the consequences would be if I let myself fall asleep on him right there and then. Maybe he’d be forced to stay here with me all night.

“I’ll text you when I’m free to hang out again.” He says, letting me go.

“Mm”

I lay down to sleep on the bed. The blankets are so warm from where he was sitting. 

Before my eyes drift closed and I surrender to my exhaustion I glimpse him climbing nimbly out the window and hopping down onto the grass outside, disappearing into the darkness and leaving the gauzy curtains fluttering behind him. It’s like he was never even here. 

Prev // Next

[fragaria-imagines]

Can i have a crush hcs with Klarkstella and Pikero please. Love your writing btw :D

Klarkstella

It’s a very well known fact that Klarkstella doesn’t really like a lot of people, and for a long time he was quite adamant that the only people he needed in his life were his brother, Lala, and Kiki.

Until you came around, and then everything changed, suddenly his hands started racing whenever he was near you, or his hands started sweating.

And at first, he brushed those little hints aside, saying that it was because you annoyed him to no end that he was getting physically ill from it (which he knew deep down inside was a lie)

He was heavily in denial about his feelings for you, often times pushing you away or snapping at you for no good reason.

But the reality is, you carved a hole inside his heart and he doesn’t know how to handle it, he doesn’t know how to be honest with himself, and often times always says the exact opposite of what he actually feels and means.

It wasn’t until he had a heart to heart conversation with Louterstella, that he realized he was falling for you. And even then, he couldn’t muster the courage to confess to you, too afraid of the possibility of being hurt or being rejected by you.

It was different when it came to Kiki, Lala, and Louterstella, those are people who he knows for certain would never hurt him, the same certainty can’t be said for you.

However, after coming to the realization that he likes you, he no longer pushed you away or was harsh to you. He wasn’t by any means Prince Charming, but he was becoming more softer and gentle with you, in his own unique way.

He started letting you in more, he wanted to be near you at all times, and this time he actually indulged in those wants.

Little by little, he realized that maybe letting someone else inside his heart, wasn’t a bad thing at all.

Pikero

Pikero is not the type to catch feelings for someone so easily and that is done with a purpose. People are too messy, too emotional, and as entertaining as it is to see their crazed antics, he always makes sure to have his guard up, never letting anyone ever get too close.

It's why he prefers to study the life of animals and plants over humans, animals are simple, they don't dwell on emotion and reasoning, preferring to act on instinct instead. They're nothing like the over emotional and complicated humans at all, and for a good while, that was enough for him.

Yet like a moth to a flame, he couldn't help but be drawn to you, at first he brushed off his feelings for you as simple curiosity, you were a pretty new thing, who he never met before and was clearly out of your element, you were fascinating to him, like a fun little lab experiment.

But the more he spends time with you, he realized that his attachment and infatuation for you, goes beyond the simple curiosity of an experiment.

Even after acknowledging and realizing his feelings for you, he would still play mind games on you, studying your every move, and analyzing your every tick and feeling, till he has you all figured out.

He loves to play push and pull with you, on some days he’ll shower you with affection and attention, on other days, he’ll completely shut you out and ignore you for days.

This isn’t because he’s insecure or that he fears rejection, quite the opposite actually. Pikero is confident that you’ll return his feelings, that’s not what he’s worried about, what he worries about is the emotional and vulnerable aspect of opening up and confessing to a crush, to him that’s a recipe for weakness, and if there’s one thing Pikero isn’t is weak.

So if there’s a way to exploit your vulnerabilities and your naivety, while not being open about his own, and still being able to be with you once and for all, then he’s going to do just that.

He wants to have his cake and eat it too, and it won’t be until you two get into a serious relationship, when the cracks finally start to show, but until then, he’s more than happy to keep the charade up.

[quinloki]

For me on low threshold word days I wish more people would be okay with texting or text to speech. I have some friends that are fully willing to commit to me being in voice chat and never talking (a boon to my sanity) but it's the pushy people that rub me the wrong way.

I actually prefer when people talk with me even when I can't words the way they want but the ones who matter don't care if you return their conversation in the same way. Text or just vocalizations in general will mean the most to the people that matter because they know you for who you are and not who you're trying to be for them. Especially on days where life is harder for you than it otherwise could be

-🐺(tall anon)

Indeed!

There are some people who can’t or won’t adapt or adjust for someone who needs to communicate alternatively - or maybe even not really communicate at all, just exist in the same space.

Someone like that isn’t always bad for it (sometimes they can be unexpectedly aggressive, and that is bad), because sometimes it’s just a compatibility issue. Some people aren’t compatible. It’s neither person’s fault - there’s no wrong or rightness to it.

We just don’t all vibe.

It can suck a lot, granted, but learning how to be okay with letting a friendship go is healthy.

Now I have friends who let me chill in discord chat and actively watch the text chat channel so I don’t feel left out. I have days with them where I DM for D&D and sometimes I do the voices and sometimes I don’t and no one complains when I can’t. And it sucks to cancel a session because I have no words or I’m zoned out so bad my spouse needs to help me sit up proper to eat, but no one judges.

No one bitches. Cause even if they aren’t in the same exact boat, they get it.

But I’ve had hundreds of people waltz out of my life and more than half of that was just that we didn’t vibe. It happens.

I’m very blessed. That blessing supports me in my job where I have to force being vocal sometimes, where I have to muster energy and capability to stay employed, knowing I can just shut down afterward and people have my back.

That blessing helps me support others too. We all got the good and bad days, we’re all just out here trying to make it to the next day, and doing our best to make use of each day.

Even if our best somedays is like 1% and the little battery indicator is flashing.

[mythicalwatch101]

HELLO. I AM HERE TO TALK ABOUT KROMER/CANTO 3

kromie is one of my Favorite characters Of All Time and if i see one more person horribly misinterpret her & her story & her motivations i am for real going to distort

FIRST AND FOREMOST

CANTO 3 ISN'T ABOUT ABLEISM

(it's not about racism either. she's not "cyborg racist". god damn it.)

canto 3 is about

religious extremism & societal pressure

PROSTHETICS IN THE CITY ≠ DISABILITY

prosthetics in the pm world are pretty obviously NOT the same as prosthetics in our world, and using them to point towards kromer being ableist is one of the weakest arguments i have ever seen in my entire life. give me ONE piece of evidence of kromer being ableist that doesn't mention prosthetics i fucking dare you

look at that. it's not about needing a missing arm replaced, or legs that you can walk on; it's about doing away with all of the inefficiencies of a flesh and blood body. you can get so much more work done if you don't need to eat or sleep!

unfortunately, there are many ways to be ableist and if she truly was, to the point where it was an important part of her character with an entire canto centered around it (like hating pm-prosthetics is), then i feel like maybe

just maybe

she would express this in other ways

that don’t involve slaughtering people that just happen to be made of metal.

just a thought.

which brings me to my next point

Prosthetics in the City are about class and money and the societal pressure i mentioned earlier

UNNECESSARY PRESSURE TO CONFORM TO THE AESTHETIC

WORTHLESS SURGERIES THAT POOR PEOPLE CAN’T AFFORD AND YET FEEL THE NEED TO GET ANYWAY

SINCLAIR’S BODILY AUTONOMY BEING STRIPPED AWAY FROM HIM SO THAT HE MATCHES HIS FAMILY

sinclair's family even turned their DOG into a robot for god's sake

it's a fad! it's cool to turn yourself into a robot! it's the new thing everyone is doing, so now you have to do it too to fit in with everyone else! even sinclair himself acknowledges this when talking about his family

also adding a ruina screenshot from this post i saw a while ago that i think you all should read

was hesitant to include it because i wanted to make my point without dragging ruina into this, to prove that you don't NEED the context from ruina to understand kromer's beliefs and motivations, but like. look at this. what the fuck.

"adjust emotions" "completely shut off desires" look me in the eyes and tell me this has ANYTHING to do with disability. i dare you. this is some rich people shit

prosthetics are a LUXURY for some, and a TOOL for others; something for rich people to enjoy, and for poor people to either get a shitty version of, or to sell their soul to afford, so that they can survive in the capitalist's dream world! kind of reminds me of cars, actually

(the extra info abt prosthetics from ruina helps, but as someone who has mostly only played limbus & doesn’t have the full context of the other games, it’s obvious even to me that they're not a disability thing)

in conclusion;

kromer is not ableist

she just really really really likes flesh and is super weird about it

to paraphrase/add to something someone said in that post i linked earlier: the district has an "ideal form" for the human body, and kromer has an "ideal form" for the human body, but these "ideal forms" are not the same

she prefers the human body the way it is, and when she sees this "ideal form" that's like the exact opposite of HER "ideal form" starting to take over, she resorts to being a violent bloodthirsty cult leader about it because she sucks ass and is incapable of being normal

she is a bad person and you are allowed to hate her ofc but please for the love of god hate her for something she’s actually done. stop making shit up