#not like it’s the first time they’ve used someone’s love to emotional manipulate someone using a corpse 😰

[lavenderjewels]

Never getting over this scene. the chapters right before this of gojo thinking quickly while dozens of people get killed but not hesitating in making risks. all this cool guy behavior only to be completely frozen by the corpse of his best friend saying his name. right when there’s a flashback of jogo saying not even a thousand lives could distract him, but kenjaku knowing without a doubt geto’s could.

Then gojo immediately experiencing for the first time what he just put others through by activating his domain. Reliving years of his past actions and experiences with geto (who marked his “youth”) in just a moment.

Meanwhile, Kenjaku is taunting Gojo for not getting rid of Geto’s body or forgetting Geto when we know Kenjaku fully centered their plan around Gojo being affected by Geto. And with Kenjaku knowing Geto’s memories, Gojo’s last words to him, and the throw away line that Gojo couldn’t destroy the body after JJK 0 despite acting positive afterwards with his students... It’s so heartbreaking, but incredibly written

[millersdjarin]

I Only See Daylight

Chapter One

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series: Ongoing, set after The Mandalorian season two

Warnings/Tags (Overall): eventual smut, post-canon, trauma, past emotional/physical abuse, scars, self-doubting/negative self-image, din working out his shit, reader working out her shit, found family, injury, religious trauma, cults

~series masterlist & info~

chapter tags/warnings: mentions of past trauma/emotional abuse

chapter length: 6.8k

notes: this planet and its creatures are entirely made up by me, it does not exist, hope u like it anyway :) the fic title is from "daylight" by taylor swift, aka the soundtrack for this fic ❤️

my love was as cruel as the cities i lived in; everyone looked worse in the light

Ah, the smells and sounds of a backwater planet in the morning. 

Dewy grass underfoot and damp moss lining the bases of trees. Birds chirping on the tall branches, bright green leaves shaking gently in the wind, the sound rustling through the air. The scent of the nearby flowers, the running of the river beside your hut, the hissing of an engine and the smell of burning metal…

Wait. 

That’s…not the smell of this backwater planet in the morning. 

You’ve just had a small breakfast, fruit picked from the meiloorun trees a few miles West, when the strange sounds and smells suddenly hit you. 

It’s concerning, to say the least. No one is around for hundreds of klicks; not a hint of civilisation, not a whiff of a trade route until you reach the other side of the planet. 

You chose this place for a kriffing reason. No one’s here. No one’s even near. Despite the sparse covering of meiloorun trees in an overgrown meadow, there’s no reason for anyone to be here. No reason for a ship to land nearby, that’s for sure. 

Unless…

No time to think. 

There are footsteps approaching. 

Shit. 

Your sniper rifle is by the door to your hut, blaster by your pillow. One for hunting food, one for self defence. 

One that you’ve never had to use before now. Not since arriving here, anyway. 

Well, first time for everything. 

You grab it, and press yourself against the wall by your door, slowing your breathing so you can listen closely. The footsteps get closer; they’re muffled on the grassy ground, but getting louder, and it’s definitely a two-legged being of some kind. Just one. 

You’d have thought that if They had found you, They would bring the whole damn lot along to take you back. An army, a garrison, outnumbering and overpowering you in every way. 

But maybe not. They’re cunning, manipulative. Maybe sending just one of them, sending him, is a tactic. Maybe They think it would break you down; make you vulnerable again.

Well, whoever it is is walking carefully, slowly. Like every step could be putting a foot wrong. 

There is, of course, the possibility that they’re not here for you at all, and are just going to bypass your hut without a second thought. A very minute possibility; you are the only sentient being here, your hut the only sign of someone’s life. It’s the best place to hide, somewhere where no one ever goes, because no one needs or wants to. The flora and fauna isn’t ideal, there are no useful resources for trading, and only just enough for one careful person to survive on. 

But that chance of someone being here not for you is squashed when you peer out of the window on the door and realise that, yes, there is a figure emerging from the woods in front of your hut, and, yes, that is the shine of the barrel of a blaster. 

Kriff.

They’ve found you.

You could run. There’s a back door you built specifically for this. 

But if there’s only one out front, then it’s definitely some kind of manipulation tactic. There will be more nearby. They’ll be waiting in the back, having taught you themselves to always have a back route to escape, and they’ll grab you before you can even think twice. 

The only option is to try and reason with him. To try and use his own tricks against him. To manipulate him into thinking you’re doing what he wants, and then use his weakness to get away. 

It’s never worked before. 

But it’s the only option you’ve got.

Creaking open your front door, you point your blaster around the frame, followed closely by your left eye. You expect to see a human face, bearded, white skin and bright blue eyes. Familiar. So familiar you can never fucking forget it.

But, instead, all you see is blinding silver. 

No, not silver. Not even durasteel. You don’t know what it’s made of, but it’s armour, a lot of it, shining brightly in the morning sunlight. It’s complete with a helmet, also that strange type of silver metal, with a black T-shaped Visor across the eyes and cutting down the front. A gloved hand is holding up a blaster not dissimilar to your own, though the person looks hesitant, only holding it as a caution, as they approach your hut in the same way.

“Get back!” You shout. 

The armour stops. 

People don’t normally actually stop when you tell them to. So, you’re not sure what to do next. 

(You were expecting to shoot, but honestly, you’re not sure what good it could possibly do past that armour. What is that stuff, anyways?) 

“Leave now,” you demand, “this is your warning. I will shoot you.” 

The hand holding the blaster lifts, very pointedly bringing their finger off the trigger. They hold up both of their hands, in surrender. “I’m not here to harm you,” a voice comes through the helmet, modulated and most likely male. He’s speaking quietly, so measured and calm that you wonder if the helmet does that for him. 

“You need to leave!” You say again, gaining enough confidence now that his blaster is not pointed at you to put your whole head around the door. Now both of your eyes are on him, you see the entirety of his armour. He is absolutely armed to the fucking teeth, probably not even needing a blaster to kill you in a breath. There’s a rifle on his back. A satchel is slung over his shoulder, but you can’t see the bag itself as it sits over his back. 

The shape and design of his helmet is familiar to you, distantly, something in your brain ringing when you see it. But you can’t quite put your finger on it, and it’s not important right now. 

“I can’t do that,” he says, measuredly calm again. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” 

A pause. He still has his hands in the air, but after seeing the amount of weapons he has strapped to him, it’s not all that comforting. “My ship crashed,” he says after an uncomfortably long time, like he wishes he didn’t have to say it. “I was hoping to find somewhere to buy parts.” 

You huff out a laugh. “Good luck with that,” you say. Subtly, and with your blaster still aimed at him, you get another look at him. With his hands up, his satchel is starting to slip around his body. You get a glimpse at the very edge of the bag. Whatever is in there is heavy, and you’re not about to take the risk that it’s something dangerous. “You need to leave. You can’t be here.” 

“Is there a town nearby that you can direct me to?” He asks. “I tried looking at the map, but it must have been corrupted…” 

You laugh again, rolling your eyes. “It’s not corrupted. There’s nothing on this side of the planet.” 

Another pause. “But you’re here.” 

Alright. Either They have sent some random, terrifying guy to lure you into a false sense of security, or he is just genuinely lost. 

You’re just about to lower your blaster, to give him the bad news that he’s going to have to travel half way around the planet if he ever wants to get off it, when two things happen at once. 

First, the satchel slips all the way around. You jump at first, but soon, the bag itself is moving, and something pops out from the top of it. Something…alive. Something green, wrinkled, with ears as big as its head and deep, dark eyes almost as large too. 

You frown. A kid? 

Not enough time to process the fact that this seems to be a father who has got himself stranded, because suddenly you see something else in the satchel, sticking out from one of the front pockets with a blinking light and a beeping that you can hear from here. 

A tracking fob. 

Your heart rate shoots up, blood suddenly rushing through your ears so you can’t hear anything but that. You flick the safety off your blaster, aim it stronger at him, look through the scope with one eye. “Get out of here, bounty hunter, or I swear I’ll shoot you where that armour can’t protect you.” 

The child—why the fuck does a bounty hunter have a child?—coos, seeming concerned, and looks up at the armoured man like he’ll have an answer. 

The man himself has his blaster aimed at you again, and you didn’t even see him move to point it. Kriff. He’s fucking good.

They put a bounty on you. Fuck, They wanted you back that badly. 

“I said leave!” You cry, feeling tears of both fear and betrayal sting at the backs of your eyes. You try desperately to swallow them down. “Take that tracking fob, and leave, or I swear to the Maker—”

Your words seem to startle him, and he drops his blaster once more, the helmet tilting down towards where the fob is sticking out of his bag. “No, no, it’s not—this isn’t for you!” He says, sounding more hurried now than he had when his hands were up and you were about to shoot him. He fishes the fob out. “This isn’t yours. See, it’s not telling me I’m close to my target. Look.” He holds it out towards you. 

A quick glance tells you that he’s not lying about that. The lights aren’t blinking right. 

You hesitate. Your heart is still beating wildly in your chest, so hard that it feels like it might jump out and run away from this entire situation. Which, you couldn’t blame it.

You wish you could do the same. 

“You really just crashed here?” You ask, your blaster-wielding arm twitching. 

“Yes,” he answers. 

You look at the child. “The kid yours?” 

“I…yes. Yes, he’s mine.” 

A frown creases at your forehead, both concerned and curious. “No one’s surrounding us? No one going to jump out and take me?” 

“…No,” he says. Something in the tilt of his helmet comes across as amusement. 

It’s not funny. 

But he has a kid. Someone sent here to kill you wouldn’t have brought a kid.

Well, probably not. Though knowing Them, you wouldn’t necessarily put anything past them. 

Not without hesitation, you lower your arm. Flick the safety back on, but keep your finger on it, ready to flick it back at a moment’s notice. “You crashed onto the wrong planet,” you say, stepping further into the doorway. You can’t see his eyes, but it feels like they’re on you, taking you in now he can see you. “I meant it when I said there’s nothing until you get to the other side.” 

He observes you. “Can you help me?” 

You sigh. It’s been a long time since you had any kind of human contact—well, you assume he’s human—and it’s already becoming too much. A tiny, corrupt part of you says, No, you can’t help him. Send him on his way. A part of you that is either there for self preservation, or a part that They put in you from a young, young age. 

It’s a part that you have never listened to. Not once. 

And you’re not about to start now.

“I can give you food and water,” you say, eyeing the kid curiously, wondering if it even eats or drinks, “and I can tell you more about this place. Maybe even help with the ship. But I haven’t got a way for you to get to the city.” 

He seems to relax a little. Tentatively, and still holding his hands halfway up, he steps closer. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you very much.” 

He sounds so sincere, so genuine, that it takes you by surprise. Because, really, he’s quite terrifying. Just this big, looming wall of steel-silver armour, covered head-to-toe in weapons, as well as ones that are no doubt hidden, too. You can’t see his face or read him at all. He walks so casually, like he’s meant to be here. Like this is normal. 

And there’s a fucking green child strapped to him, the likes of which you’ve never seen before.

“Please, sit,” you say, gesturing to the table and chairs you have set up under the awning that stretches from your hut’s roof. “Are you hungry?” 

“The kid is. We have supplies on our ship, but it’s a few miles away…” 

You raise an eyebrow. He doesn’t sit down, just stands there under the shade, staring at you. “When did you crash?” 

“We didn’t crash, necessarily. Just…an interesting landing.” 

“Right, right, of course. But it was such an interesting landing that you can’t take off again?”

“…That’s right.” 

Before replying, you head inside and to the little kitchenette along the left wall. There’s some fruit there and a little of the bread you made last week. You gather it, along with a knife and some plates, and take them out to the man. 

“Well, I don’t know much about mechanical stuff,” you shrug, putting it all down on the table, “but I’ll do what I can to help.” 

He still doesn’t move to sit down, or even towards the table. The child careens towards the food, though, reaching out little clawed, three-fingered hands. 

The man just stares at you. You wonder why. What he’s staring so much for. Is there something particularly puzzling about you? Something he doesn’t understand? 

“Thank you,” he says eventually. “For your generosity.” 

Yeah, well. Again, you gesture to the table, and finally he follows. He sits down and puts the kid on the bench beside him, giving his nose an affectionate little rub before he turns to the table and breaks a bit off the bread. The kid is reaching for it as he hands it over, and the way his little green mouth starts biting at it is adorable. 

“So,” you say, “who are you?” 

The helmet looks back at you again. Even out of the sunlight, it’s still a piercing, shining silver. “People call me Mando,” he says after a beat. 

You frown. “Mando,” you repeat, mostly to yourself. “As in, Mandalorian?” 

He seems to startle a little, pausing as he cuts the fruit into kid-sized squares. “You know about the Mandalorians?” 

“Doesn’t everyone?” 

A noise comes through the helmet. You could swear it sounds like a breathy laugh. He shakes his head and looks back to the fruit in front of him. “Depends what you know.” 

“Uh, let’s see,” you sit down on the chair opposite him, across the table. “A race of warriors, proud of their heritage, destroyed by the Empire…” 

He tenses. Stops again, and looks up.

Kriff. 

“Sorry,” you say quickly, “sorry. It’s…been a while since I talked to another person. That was insensitive.” 

After yet another long, indiscernible stare, he gets back to work. Silence passes for a minute, long and uncomfortable as anxiety roils in your stomach. You always say the wrong fucking thing, don’t you? Always making things worse, always fucking things up…

“Well, you’re right,” his modulated voice breaks through your quickly spiralling thoughts. “The Empire destroyed most of us.” Grief laces his voice, heavy like you imagine the armour on him must be. 

It twigs, then. His armour. Mandalorian. The shape of his helmet. 

That’s where you recognise it from. 

You want to ask, want to hear more about his people, about what happened. Before coming here, you knew a lot about the different cultures in the Galaxy; last you heard, the Empire was gone, and the New Republic was being built. But you don’t know anything about the Mandalorians except that they were all wiped out—or, so you thought. 

He starts handing little cubes of yellow fruit to the kid, who coos and accepts them happily. 

“Aren’t you going to eat?” You ask him, curious.

“No, thank you.” 

A frown tugs at your forehead. Maybe he’s not human. “Do you…do you eat?” 

“What?” 

“I mean…do you need to eat?” 

“I—yes, I need to eat. I’m human,” he adds on, like he’s realised my unasked question. 

Okay, good. Not that it would have been bad if he’d not been human. But the way his broad shoulders look under the armour, the solidity of his thighs, the way his gloved fingers are flexing around the fruit, shiny with juice, working deftly…

You shake yourself from your thoughts. You literally just met this man, and you know that he’s a bounty hunter. You need to stop.

Speaking of, “So did you come here for a bounty?”

He looks up again, and something about the way he startles comes across as surprise. Pleasant or unpleasant surprise, you’re not sure, but either way, he looks surprised that you asked that. 

“No,” he says.

“How badly damaged is your ship?” Recalling the smell of burning engine oil, you prop your foot up on one of the table’s legs, the soles of your boot gripping to the wood. Sunlight is streaming through the coarse fabric of the awning above you, casting tiny slivers of golden beams across all three of you. It shimmers in his armour, and he looks just a little magical. The kid is gazing up at the twinkling lights above him. It looks like the canvas is covered in golden stars, flitting as trees rustle between the fabric and the sunlight. 

“I can probably fix it myself. At least enough to get me somewhere that has parts.” 

“Hyperdrive blown?” 

“Yes,” he says. “How’d you know?” 

“I could smell it,” you say. It’s been a long time since you smelled that, but it’s ingrained in your memory, all sour and oily. 

“The hyperdrive blew, and it damaged the engine. I only just got us down safely.”

“So probably a little body damage too, then.” I ponder, wondering if there’s any way we can find parts that he might need. There’s a scrap heap a little way off—definitely not as far as the other side of the kriffing planet—left there by, presumably, the last people unfortunate enough to crash here. 

“I thought you didn’t know about mechanics?” He asks, something in his voice quirking, the same tilt of his helmet that you thought was amusement earlier. 

“I have a little knowledge. Are you sure you’re not hungry?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Alright.”

And it’s not a good idea to offer him the kind of help you’re thinking of offering. It’s not. He’s a bounty hunter, very clearly dangerous, and he’s also the first person you’ve seen since you left Them.

You don’t trust people easily. You used to. But you don’t anymore. 

But he has a kid. And if you don’t help him, he’s going to be stuck here forever, unless he’s happy to take the year-long journey of going to the other side of the planet. You came here for solitude, for safety. To not have to trust people.

That won’t work if he’s going to have to stay here.

And, who knows? Maybe he’ll try and kill you for food in the end. By the looks of him, he could. 

You sigh to yourself. 

Because even despite all that, despite the fact that the only remotely good reason to help him out is to try and stop yourself getting eaten, you’d still help him anyway. 

That’s who you are. You didn’t let Them make you anything else. Swore you would never. 

“Well,” you say, having made up your mind, “there’s a scrap heap a fifty klicks West of here. It’ll take a couple days of travelling on foot to get there, but it might have what you need.” 

He nods. “I could probably get there. Can you mark it on a map?” 

You haven’t seen a map in years. In fact, you only know this place by its terrain. By its land under your feet, the trees above you. “No,” you say. “But I can come with you.” 

He stares. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“If you ever want to get off this planet, yes, I do,” you say with a smirk. What you don’t say is, And I want you to leave. Despite the fact that you’ve got really lovely shoulders and a cute baby. “Assuming you actually need parts. Can you fix what you need to fix with what you’ve got?” 

He sighs. “Probably not,” he says. “It’s a new ship. I don’t…know it as well as my others.” 

I quirk an eyebrow. “You have others?” 

“Had,” he corrects. “I have had others.” 

“Hm. Alright, well, I’ll help you, if you’ll accept my help. Just don’t point a blaster at me again.” 

There’s that sound again, a little huff, like a laugh. “I’ll ask the same of you,” he says, “if you would.” 

“Mm…I’m already doing you a pretty big favour,” you tease, smirking and patting the blaster that sits at your hip, “I’ll think about it.” 

-

You’re not really big on babies. They’re messy, sticky, demanding, and loud. 

But this one is really very cute. 

He’s got hold of your finger, and is squeezing it gently between his little fingers. Mando tells you that his name is Grogu, and the first time you call him it, his big green ears twitch along with a tilt of his head. 

It probably wasn’t all that wise to let Mando stay the night. Even though he and the kid slept outside in your hiking tent, and you kept the front door locked, you know that he could have without a doubt gotten inside to kill you. Or worse. 

But he didn’t.

All that happens is that, when you wake up, he and the kid are already sitting at the table, and the little box of food that you’d left with them after sunset in case they got hungry was empty. 

You’d talked with Mando a little yesterday, but mostly went about your daily routine like he wasn’t there. He seems good at that; just being still, blending in, the opposite of obtrusive. Which, you suppose, is what makes a good bounty hunter. At least the type that likes to do it with minimal mess.

Still, you’re curious about him. He sat outside all day with the kid, even took him for a walk to the nearby creek in the late afternoon. It’s so strange to see such contrast in him: the cold, hard exterior of his armour, something so impenetrable and immovable; and then the soft way he handles the kid, the way he bounces him on his hip, shows him magic tricks, picks him up when his little hands reach out for him. 

There are a lot of questions on your tongue. Why and how he has the kid, where he came from, where the rest of his people are, how the kriff are you such a gentle person when you’re also the scariest pillar of metal I’ve ever seen?

You keep them to yourself. 

You wouldn’t want anyone asking questions about you. (Hence why you’re here in the first place, but.) So you don’t ask the same of him. 

The morning after he arrived here, the three of you set off for the scrap heap. Your backpack slung over your back, filled with blankets, rations, flasks, and sleeping mats. Mando carries a bag that you gave him, though most of the bulk is your hiking tent. 

It’s only when you’re a half hour into the forest that you realise you’ve only got one tent. 

Three sleeping mats for the floor, yes. Three sets of blankets, yes.

But one kriffing tent. 

Well, you think, we can take sleep watch shifts anyway. 

The sun is warm this morning, but not too hot; just a comfortable heat on your skin as you walk through the thick forest, climbing over fallen trees and winding, gnarled roots that stick up from the ground. It’s mostly dry earth underfoot, some moss glistening on rocks, a few tufts of grass sprouting beneath pillars of light that shine through the treetops. 

Mando isn’t much of a talker, you’re realising. And you can’t decide if you like that or not.

The kid is always babbling, though. He’s got his head sticking out of Mando’s satchel again, and he’s looking around slowly, his mouth slightly open and big eyes wide as he takes in his surroundings. You wonder if he’s ever seen anywhere like this; where the two of them may have been together. You don’t even know what species he is—he could be from somewhere like this. A planet with a warm, mildly humid climate during the spring.

You’re coming up on one of the large valleys that splits the earth, stretching down into a deep cavern filled with rushing water coming from the tall waterfall beside it. You can hear the water before you see any sign of it. 

“We’re coming to the waterfall valley,” you explain, “there’s a fallen tree over the chasm that we can use as a bridge.” 

Wordless, Mando nods in acknowledgement. 

The fallen tree that bridges the gap between sides of the river is giant, both in length and width, with more than enough room to comfortably walk across it in a single-file line. It was probably thousands of years old before it fell. The roots snapped at its base, leaving gnarled and sharp splints of wood curling up into the air and surrounding foliage. On the other side, its branches are bare, the leaves having died and fallen off long ago, and the branches are anchored into the ground after years of being covered by it. 

“It looks mossy,” Mando says as you step up onto it first. “Watch your step.” 

He’s right; the spray of water constantly shooting up into the air from the waterfall has made for a nice home for moss, glistening in dark green florets along the top, with longer water weeds hanging from the underside. 

It could be slippy, but you’ve walked across it many times, and you’re used to it. It’s the only way to the fruit trees in the overgrown meadow. There’s almost a path worn across it, though not quite; the moss grows back far too enthusiastically to stay away. 

Grogu is cooing as you cross. You don’t look back at him lest you lose your footing, but you can imagine that he’s gazing around with that same wonder on his face.

It is pretty. This whole area is pretty. Serene, if you don’t count the various wildlife that can often be just a little hostile. There are birds of prey that swoop down from the impossibly small treetops sometimes; yellow and red lizards that skitter along the forest floor, their tails, complete with stinger, thrashing threateningly into the air as they run past. As long as you keep an ear out, though, it’s alright. 

“I don’t know your name,” Mando’s voice, calm through his helmet, cuts into your thoughts once you’ve crossed. He’s fallen into step beside you, one of his hands absently pressed against the kid’s back. 

You glance at him, uncertain. Technically, you don’t know his name. So, really, it’s only fair that your answer is, “No, you don’t.” 

His helmet tilts as he huffs out a laugh. “Alright. Guess I’m not going to?” 

“Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine,” you challenge, raising a teasing eyebrow at him.

He laughs again. You wonder how often he does that. He seems to live a pretty serious life, with what little information you have on him. But the kid is adorable, and there’s bound to be several times a day where he laughs at his cuteness, surely. “Alright. Fair enough.”

“There’s a river up ahead. I’m going to fill my flask.” You gesture to the approaching clearing where a river cuts through the forest floor, a few metres wide, deeper than it looks. 

“Can we cross it?” 

“We’ll have to get our feet wet, but yes. And watch out for the water snails.” 

“The what?” 

“They live in the riverbed. If your foot lingers too long, they’ll crawl on you and suck you down into the sand. Oh, and then there’s the stinging lizards that live in the brush on each side.” 

The helmet tilts to look at you, and something about his body language comes across as incredulity. “Safe planet you got here,” he says, dry.

The surprise of hearing him make a sarcastic comment catches in a laugh in your throat, bubbling out without permission. “It is safe,” you counter, smiling at him even though he’s not looking at you anymore, “no one else around kind of has that effect.” 

“If there’s nothing on this side of the planet,” he says, “why are you here?” 

A cold stab of dread shoots through your stomach. Quickly, you push it away, forcing the thoughts out of your mind that want to come in and race around until you feel dizzy. To cover up your slight falter, you clear your throat as you step out into the river’s clearing. “How about I don’t ask you about you, and you don’t ask me about me?” 

He stops beside you when you lean down to fill your flask from the rapidly running river water. For a moment, he just observes you, quiet. It’s strange to be able to feel someone’s gaze so strongly when you can’t even see their face, their eyes. “Deal,” he says. 

Satisfied, you stand up straight again, and gesture to the shallower part of the river a few feet to the right. He follows as you step into the water. You keep your steps light and quick, scanning the riverbed for any sign of those metallic-brown molluscs that masquerade as innocent rocks. 

The thing with the snails is that they don’t actually want anything with you. They don’t eat you. They just pull you down into the sand because it’s their instinct. You get stuck, and sink until you drown in the water or the riverbed itself. When one sticks to your foot, the entire swarm of them joins in, and it’s nearly impossible to escape if you don’t catch it quickly enough. Your only hope in that situation is that the blue shindl birds will come and eat the snails before their numbers are too many.

You make it to the other side quickly enough, and turn to watch Mando copying the lightness of your steps. It’s quite amusing, actually, to see this heavily armoured, heavy-booted man taking light footsteps like he’s standing on ground too hot for his feet. The kid laughs from his place in the satchel, and you watch in amusement. 

That is, until, there’s a loud swoop coming from the sky above you, accompanied by a Squalk! 

A shindl bird, bigger than your own body, swoops just metres above you, dipping so low down towards the river that you can feel the downdraft from its giant, pale white and blue feathered wings. 

On instinct, Mando freezes in his tracks, covering the kid with one hand and reaching for his blaster with the other. 

“Don’t shoot it!” You shout hastily, watching as he tracks the bird flying down the length of the river with his blaster’s scope. The bird turns around, heading back to you. “They’re just looking for the snails to eat!” 

Mando ignores you, too busy clutching the kid to his side. 

“Mando, you need to move! The snails!” 

This time, he doesn’t ignore you; but he does only have a second to look back at you before he’s trying to move, to bring his feet out from the riverbed, but one of them is stuck. 

Kriff, he’s stuck.

His visor turns down to his feet. He tugs his left leg, trying to walk forward on it.

“Oh, for kriff’s sake,” you curse, reaching for your own blaster. He’s not sinking yet, but you can already see the large snail on his foot through the water, and more are coming to life beneath the surface, slowly making their way to him. 

The shindl swoops overhead again, lower this time, clearly having spotted the snails too.

“Stay still!” You shout to Mando over the deafening sound of the bird’s wings flapping in the air. 

He looks up at you and sees the blaster pointed towards his foot. “What are you doing?” 

“Just hold still!” You aim through the sight, just an inch away from the edge of Mando’s foot, getting the snail’s eyes right in your crosshair.

Mando protests, saying, “Wait, no, don’t—” But he’s too late, your finger already squeezing the trigger. 

The snail on his foot wilts immediately, like leafy vegetables thrown into a hot pan. Mando wastes no time in pulling on his leg again, and he only just gets himself to move in time before the rest of the snail’s colony is gaining on him and discovering the body of the early bird who got the worm—well, the foot.

He splashes out of the river towards you, still gripping the child to his side, with both hands now. Once he’s free and clear on to the riverbank, he sighs out in relief at the same time you do. 

Lowering your blaster, you watch as the shindl bird swoops right down to the water and ducks its large beak down below the surface, grabbing the dead snail first. Its wings are so wide and so close that you feel the very edge of one of its feathers brush against your face. 

It turns to look at the two of you before it flies up completely vertically into the sky and gives a triumphant cry. 

“You might want to back up,” you tell Mando with a smirk at how he’s trying to scrape off the snail’s goo from the top of his boot. “The rest are coming.” 

“The snails?” 

“No. The birds.” As you reach a hand out in front of him, you back up, automatically taking him with you. He follows willingly, though he could just as easily push you away and defy your advice. 

You step back into the tree line again, under the cover of the rustling branches. 

Before you can even blink, suddenly an entire flock of the shindl birds is descending upon the river where Mando was once stuck, all diving in with their beaks open to pick up as many snails as they can at once. 

Really, Mando did them a favour by getting stuck. The only time the snail colony comes out is when they think they’ve caught something. Otherwise, the shindl have to spend hours looking down into the water, standing still or hovering low, waiting for one to appear before them. 

The flaps and squalks of the birds fills the air, and beneath it, you can hear a trill of glee coming from the kid’s satchel. Looking down, you find his hands outstretched towards the whole ordeal, flapping a little in excitement. 

You chuckle. From under the cover of the trees, it’s a pretty amazing thing to see. The birds’ feathers are metallic and pearly, fading from glistening white to pale blue as the sunlight shifts over their curves and edges. They fly so gracefully despite the frantic fight to find the best snail. 

The first time you got caught in one of their food grabs wasn’t as fun, though. But you learned your lesson. 

“What are those things?” Mando asks. He lifts the kid from the satchel and clutches him to his breastplate, tapping comfortingly at the kid’s tummy. It’s sweet, like he’s reassuring him that everything is alright after what happened.

When you don’t answer right away, the helmet turns to look at you, waiting for an answer. 

You got distracted by him, to be honest. By him and the kid. “They’re shindl birds,” you say. 

He looks back to them. The flock is clearing a little now; you imagine there are only a few snails left for them to devour. 

“They’re native to this planet. They really love those snails.��� 

“Hm.” Mando hums, and you’re not sure if it’s an acknowledgement or a laugh. 

“Come on,” you say, gesturing to continue on your path, “we should move.” 

“Are there more creatures out to get us?” 

“Probably. But don’t worry. I’ll save you again, should you need it.” 

Walking alongside you, his helmet tilts. “I can handle myself.” 

“Clearly. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

His sigh is not impatient or unimpressed; in fact, it sounds amused, warm. “Thank you. You did save me back there.” 

“No problem. I’ve dealt with those things before.” 

“I would have appreciated a warning, though.” 

“I gave you a warning; I told you not to stop in the river!” 

“You didn’t tell me about the birds.” 

The kid laughs, lifting up one of his hands to press it against the side of Mando’s helmet. 

“Well, I’m just glad you didn’t shoot them,” you say. Out of the corner of your eye as you walk side-by-side, you observe Mando, watch the kid touch the plate of metal that covers his cheekbone. You realise, then, that you don’t actually know what he looks like. He’s never taken his helmet off in front of you; not even his gloves. You don’t think you’ve even seen him have a drink. 

Maybe it’s for the best, though. Because you’re finding yourself wanting to walk just a little ways behind him so you can admire the casual, commanding way that he walks, the slight swing of his hips as his hands flex at his sides. The breadth of his shoulders, emphasised by his heavy armour. His hips, the way his torso gets only a little narrower towards them, his entire frame straight and wide and beautiful. 

You need to stop. 

You don’t even know what he looks like. 

Speaking of, “Do you want a drink?” 

“I’m fine. Thanks.” 

“Do you drink?” 

“I told you, I’m human.” 

You nod, hoping it comes across as unassuming. But there are so many questions swirling around in your head; so much that you suddenly want to know about him. He’s mysterious, you’ll give him that. Does he do it on purpose? Is it something he does to try and get people to follow him, or is he just genuinely a private person? 

You’re so used to people using tactics, games to mess with you and the way you form relationships, that you never know what to believe. They used to string you along, make you chase them, make you beg for them to just see you, hear you, understand you…and then, just when you felt like you’d finally done enough for them, they’d turn it all around and shut you out again. 

It was a never ending cycle.

It’s hard not to project that onto Mando. He’s the first person you’ve seen since you escaped Them. For all you know, he could be just as manipulative. 

Except, unprompted, he says, “I don’t take my helmet off.” 

Oh. 

Okay, racing thoughts on pause: “What?” 

“It’s part of my Creed. As a Mandalorian.” 

“Oh,” you say as the pieces fit into place. It makes sense now, but you’re still surprised; you didn’t know that about Mandalorians. In fact, you distinctly remember meeting some when you were a child who definitely did not wear their helmet all the time. “So…you’ve never taken it off?” 

He pauses, hesitating. His moment of unprompted honesty falters. “It’s complicated.” 

Oh, great. It’s hard not to put bad intentions on to him when he says stuff like that. It’s complicated.

You wouldn’t understand.

You don’t get to know the secrets. 

You’ve earned my trust, well done.

I never want to see you again. 

You have to force yourself to stop spiralling. For a long moment there, you were no longer walking through the forest with a strange Mandalorian and his little green child. You were walking through the forest with Them. With your family. And the weight of everything they ever did.

You clear your throat, demanding yourself back into the moment. “Is it not uncomfortable?” 

It must be. Especially in humid climates like this. Or maybe it’s temperature-controlled under there. The entire set of armour looks pretty swish; maybe it’s got some cool technology. 

“I’m used to it,” he says, and his tone suggests that that’s the last he wants to talk about it. 

So, you’re quiet again.

You focus on the ground crunching underfoot, the tiny birds whistling in the trees. 

You’re not back there. Mando isn’t Them. 

You’re safe. 

You’re okay. 

notes: i'm REALLY excited to finally be posting this fic! i hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. all interactions are appreciated, but comments and reblogs especially make my day ❤️ updates will be regular!

i'm going to make a taglist for this fic so if you wanna be on it, drop me an ask or reply to this post!

take care of yourself ❤️

[thatgirl4815]

the sandray boeing situation is so frustrating because ray is a very emotionally driven person "act first think later" AND he is at the very start of recovery which means he is in a very vulnerable emotional state right now and he is not making the best decisions right now and sand is ALSO in a very vulnerable emotional state from his shitty manipulative cheating ex trying to come back into his life and reopening old wounds so he is ALSO not making the best decisions right now and all people are focusing on is who between the two of them is in the wrong in this situation ugh it's driving me crazy.

also this is a message for the people who are either like "see he's making bad decisions again he hasn't changed and right back to his old tricks" or like this "see ray is trying to stay calm that means he's totally changed and he's just doing this to help sand in his own way": ray is NOT gonna change in one week he's gonna need way more time than this to start acting the way people wants him to act even if he did promise to change. sand's love and two weeks of rehab is not gonna magically heal him from YEARS of addiction and of letting trauma dictate his actions and emotions that's not how things work these things take time. ray is trying but he will make mistakes again. it's sand's choice to make whether he has the patience to deal with ray or not. him having the patience right now does not mean he will stay with ray no matter what happens. forgiving this or that mistake doesn't mean he will forgive every mistakes ray does in the future. if he wants to stay he wants to stay if he wants to leave he wants to leave, there is not one right or one wrong decisions. both of these decisions are perfectly understandable and reasonable.

Yesss I completely agree—you’re underscoring a really important point about dichotomous thinking in the fandom. A lot of the divisions I have seen have been people viciously defending or attacking another character without really taking into account both perspectives. Getting frustrated with a character’s choices is understandable, but sometimes that frustration leads to a lack of empathy and understanding for why they did what they did.

Part of what makes Ray in particular such a difficult case is his alcoholism and his sad backstory, which I actually think can be taken too far both directions: Ray’s behavior towards the people in his life, especially Sand, can’t be solely blamed on his personal issues, but it can be informed by them. Yet I’ve seen people jumping to Ray’s defense because of this backstory alone, and I think that’s where it can oddly get a bit out of hand. It’s good to empathize with Ray and acknowledge how his history/addiction guides his actions, but when that is used as an excuse in any situation, then it becomes an issue.

Anyways, I didn’t mean to go off on too much of a rant there, but my main point is I agree with you! Sand and Ray have faced a lot of conflict in their relationship, but regardless of how they’ve acted in the past, that doesn’t define their future. Especially for Ray as someone who is slowly learning to overcome some of his biggest internal obstacles, I think that growth will become palpable in SandRay’s relationship bit by bit.

[fryingpan1234567]

I’m not sure if ECLIPSEWXTCH has a tumblr, but their cop/ mafia(??) au is fire and I’m writing some stuff for em

kidding they do in fact have a tumblr @eclipsewxtch

(characters in the book are all in their 20’s dw)

Griffin—focused post sorry he’s my fav character I’ll do more later

~

Griffin is the type of person who unironically listens to Doja Cat

(Also P!ATD and Harry Styles)

And yet his favorite song is Stacy’s Brother by Mad Tsai (then again it’s all their favorite so)

We could talk about how, while it’s pretty fuckin difficult to get him drunk, when he’s really sick he acts like it

Some people are confused by Bruce and Griff and Finn’s affection with each other. It’s just because they’re so close, and have been for their whole lives, and literally couldn’t give less of a fuck about showing those kinds of emotion. That’s a deadly combo

Yeah, they’re cops

Yeah, their morals are grayer than freaking dolphins rolled in ash. It’s a skill

At some point, when Griffin finally decides to let Billy fuck him at work, they’ve been making out for a while, B goes “I’ve had this dream,” with a drunken smile and Griff deadass goes “keep dreaming” and turns and continues working on the dead body two feet away because he’s a little shit like that

Billy was traumatized

Robin and Vance laughed at him for it later

Griff is also the type of person to binge Disney movies for like six hours, suddenly get bored of them, and switch right over to Deadpool or Saw or some shit and his energy doesn’t change At All

Speaking of horror movies– Finney and Bruce are shivering under a blanket, covering their eyes every time something remotely scary happens, and Griffin laughs every time someone is stabbed or killed

The first time Griff showed up to work in a skirt, 90% of his coworkers mysteriously had to leave with nosebleeds

It’s canon but. Billy is OBSESSED with Griffin’s thighs

No seriously that boy is down bad

Like if they’re cuddling or something and his legs are in reach, Billy’s hands are on them, and if Griffin has to shift, he will deadass complain about it and beg him to switch back 

(“no you asshole my legs are asleep we’ve been sitting like this for forty minutes” “pleaseee pretty boy” “NO YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE”)

Bruce would never tell anyone but Vance, but he absolutely had crushes on horror movie killers like Michael and Jason and Ghostface. He got so into true crime, he decided he wanted to devote his life to it, just… on the other end of the spectrum

Finney Blake loves sushi but can’t use chopsticks for the life of him. I said what I said

Griffin redoes his hair every couple months, when he goes back to get it cut– Billy’s personal favorite will always be red, but he’s a sucker for blue and pink and purple as well (really any color jesus this boy has it BADDD)

Sometimes Griffin will walk into work, blowing obnoxiously loud bubbles with his gum, and when he leaves, Billy is trailing behind him, mysteriously blowing his own pink bubbles with a shit-eating grin, Griffin’s nowhere to be found

Finn and Robin probably have the least toxic relationship of the three, aside from the lying about real names from right off the bat

Okay side note I genuinely Can Not Tell whether or not Griff and Finn and Bruce are going to make the other three better or Vance and Billy and Robin are going to make them worse because it could TOTALLY GO EITHER WAY

Not to spoil too bad, but Griffin is a little shit who smokes weed and will weaponize his looks to manipulate people into giving him what he wants

Finney is willing to hear out ANYONE if he thinks they’re speaking from the heart, and he will absolutely not hesitate to shoot somebody if they piss him off

Bruce has kept both dead bodies sent his way by the stalker hitman in some way– pictures of the guy, little bird preserved perfectly in its box. Also manipulates like a boss

Basically core Slytherins who do good only because it offers better pay and are THIS CLOSE to losing it and killing someone for mildly inconveniencing them

Billy, as I’ve said before and IN CANON, is absolutely fucking obsessed with Griffin. So obsessed, in fact, that he had to get closer to him in both personas just to see him more often. We know he’s not a total douchebag from the fact that he lets absolutely no sexual assault happen anywhere near his organization and only sells drugs for the money, not because he enjoys it

Robin liked Finn enough by, the first time they met, HID A BODY FOR HIM, and the second time let him patch him up after a fight and let him drive his fucking car, even when he knew something was up because Finn’s hair and eyes were totally different from the first time

Where do I even start with Vance.

My man killed somebody and made a biiig mess and delivered it as a gift to a poor boy he made out with in an elevator once and decided to stalk. He knows where he works and where he lives. If Bruce asked him to kill, he’d do it again, zero hesitation, and then turn to him looking for approval like a puppy. He’s almost as bad as Billy, if not worse

SEE WHAT I MEAN? IT COULD LITERALLY GO EITHER WAY. THEY’RE ALL SO MORALLY GRAY THE COPS COULD TURN BAD OR THE ACTUAL CRIME BOSSES COULD GET BETTER AND EITHER WAY WOULD MAKE COMPLETE AND TOTAL SENSE

See I could in fact write forever. But I am in class and I’m supposed to be doing this assignment that was due two days ago so✌️✌️ cya

[jakekiszkasleftnutsack]

Don’t Talk to Strangers

Jake Kiszka x f!reader

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Summary: It’s been five months since your particularly rough split from your ex, it’s time to open up and get back into the dating scene.  Take a chance on the intimidating stranger in the bar.  It won’t backfire at all. 

Warnings: 18+ GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, mentions of mental illness and emotional trauma, manipulation, alcohol consumption, swearing, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (don’t!), oral sex (m and f receiving), degradation, bondage, impact play, overstimulation

W/c: 8.3k

A/n:  In honor of the Omaha show, I’ve decided to make my triumphant return! know that this took a million years but I’ve been having a tough time mentally and that’s made it hard to write, but now I’m back!! This version of dom!Jake is the only thing that made it through the fog, even if he’s not for everyone.  We are shamelessly self-indulgent yet again, so sorry if not everything resonates with you!  Thanks for bearing with me and thanks to everyone that’s been supportive and contributed!  All feedback is appreciated! 

Edited by @whatsonott

Theme Song: Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge

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A dark bar isn’t the kind of place you’d pick for a first date, especially not a blind date. You would be much more comfortable going to a nice dinner, grabbing a cup of coffee, or really anything that could be done in broad daylight would be closer to your wheelhouse. You’d prefer to keep things easy and casual when dating a new person, but you let your date pick the place as an effort to force yourself out of your shell.  

This was a dumb idea, you think, trying to ignore the churning in your guts as you lock your car and approach the nightclub, heels clicking against the pavement. 

You need this. Just keep telling yourself that and everything will turn out fine.

Anxiety is something you’ve been working on handling with your therapist since your breakup a few months ago, as it’s become a prominent part of everything you do. It’s been instilled in your thoughts by your ex, who would constantly tell you how you could afford to go to the gym more or be a little more like some of his friends' girlfriends.  

You tried your best to change yourself for him and fit the mold he wanted you to contort yourself into, but it was never enough for him. It didn’t surprise you when you found out he was sleeping with someone else, and it created a mountain of self-doubt standing between you and your apartment doorway every time you tried to meet your friends for a drink or enjoy the things you used to love doing. 

Before your ex, you were the belle of the ball in bars just like this one. Almost every weekend you had mediocre men begging to buy you drinks late into the night. Being on your own again, it’s not been so simple. Staying out until 2 am, flirting with strangers, the thrill of the chase, that’s a thing of the past. In fact, not one man has made it into your bed since the last time you and your ex messed around. 

Why you put up with his shit for so long, letting him keep you from living your life how you wanted is still a mystery to this day. He really was sweet and charming in the beginning, but most narcissists are. They lure you in with what you want to see and feel. Then once you are comfortable, start to manipulate your feelings and every aspect of your life. Leaving you feeling hopeless if they were ever to leave you because that’s what they’ve trained you to feel. Or at least, that’s what you’ve learned in the five months since you left him. You’ve been coming to terms with the fact that seeing him between another woman’s legs was the push you needed to get rid of him, traumatic as it was. Coming out from the misery of living in his shadow is more than liberating. 

The last couple of weeks have been all about going with the flow, as an assignment from your therapist. She told you to live in the moment, don’t take things so seriously, and let life happen like you used to. Emerging from the misery of living in his shadow is more than liberating, but easier said than done. You’ve taken every opportunity you can find to take a step slightly outside of your comfort zone and only hated it about half the time, only to be fantasizing over glimpses of your previously joyful self. A blind date is the kind of thing that the old y/n wouldn’t so much as bat an eye at, so agreeing to it seemed like no big deal in hindsight. Even now, perched on a barstool in a tight little dress you’ve always told yourself you don’t have the body for, you feel stronger on your own than you ever did with your sad excuse of an ex. Which in the moment feels pretty fucking good, although you’re trying to keep yourself from visibly shaking with fear.

Progress is still progress, even if it is slow or doesn’t look like much from the outside. Wounds don’t heal overnight. 

You weren’t necessarily ready to start dating yet and this was just some random guy that your best friend thought would be perfect for you. Tonight's blind date is part of her long-winded plan to get you two together after she wore you down for weeks about accepting her proposal. Nevertheless, she’s proven to be trustworthy and a great judge of character, and she did try to ease your nerves by showing you his Facebook profile. He seemed decent enough, but nothing special.

Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you were lonely, sex-deprived and could use a quick fuck. Though your standards are the highest they’ve ever been since surviving the ghost of boyfriends past, you were becoming more and more desperate. So after going through all the worst-case scenarios in your head of potentially being rejected or kidnapped, you ultimately decided to give it a shot. What more could you lose? 

That’s how you wound up here, in a dark club on a Sunday night, where and when your date had suggested you meet up. Should have been the first red flag. 

In the ten minutes since you’d arrived, your date is yet to show his face.  The clock on your phone read 10:32 pm. You were even running a little late and had sent a text to let him know, assuming he was there and waiting for you already.  But there was no response. He hasn’t even read the message.

Maybe something happened? He probably walked in, saw me, and left. I knew this outfit looked fucking ridiculous on me. 

“What can I get you?” You snap your head to look in the direction of the voice startling you from your thoughts, but soften your expression when you realize it’s only a smiling bartender and not your very tardy potential hookup.  

“Vodka cranberry, please.” You smile politely. 

The bartender nods and turns to make your drink and you take this opportunity to look over the room. The bar is mostly dark, illuminated by a strobe light or two by the DJ booth and dim golden twinkling lights adorning the coves of tables that sit along the edges. Some sort of heavy psychedelic dance music bumps through the sea of bodies, moving them like a hive mind in sync with the rhythm. The atmosphere is euphoric, almost as if everyone there is sharing the same beautiful high. 

Glaring you in the face is the realization that everyone there is stunningly gorgeous and suddenly you feel severely out of place. 

Once the bartender hands you your drink, you take a sip and say a quick ‘thank you’ leaving a few crumpled bills on the bar. 

Your eyes hop from one large round booth to the next where fancy people are having intimate conversations at their secluded spots along the darkened back wall of the bar, while you are just searching for a familiar face. Hoping for a moment that maybe your date had snagged a quiet spot for the both of you before you arrived. Instead, your attention lands on one booth in particular where, if your eyes don't deceive you, the most beautiful man on earth is staring you down like you owe him money. In that moment, you are frozen, unable to move.

His eyes are narrowed and trained on you intently, despite having a scarcely dressed woman on either side of him. One slender blonde that’s much taller than him and one curvy brunette that seems to have her hand buried beneath the waistband of his pants. He’s not paying attention to them the slightest bit, despite how they’re hanging on him like Christmas ornaments.

It’s you that his eyes are piercing into, assaulting you in a way. His lashes fan as he looks you over, no doubt taking in all the little details. You can’t help the blush that creeps in when he lowers his gaze to your too short too tight dress and twists his lips into a leering side smile. You can feel the heat radiating in the apples of your cheeks, forcing you to turn away from the intensity of his stare.  

Why is he looking at me like that? 

Is it the outfit? Fuck, I knew I looked ridiculous…

Do I have something on my face? It has to be.. a man that gorgeous wouldn’t possibly look at me for any other reason. 

A glance in the mirror behind the bar quickly disproves your concern.  Perfect makeup and hair, just how you had left it. Though you curse your past self for going with such a painfully natural look since the social connotation that you prepared for has completely changed.

It was enough to catch his eye, so it’ll have to do.

I wonder if he’s still looking…

Curiosity always did get the best of you, just a quick peek in that general direction will ease your mind. Except when you shift your view from analyzing your own face to the direction of the man that piqued your interest, he is still looking, watching you as if he’s a predator stalking his prey. Your breathing is starting to pick up in pace and you notice a hint of nervous nausea making an appearance as anxiety takes its usual place in the pit of your stomach. With a gasp, you avert your eyes and look down at your drink, breaking free from the concrete grip he has on you.

I don’t get it.. Nobody’s ever looked at me like that… 

Maybe he’s making fun of me, this dress makes me look like I’m wrapped in fucking sausage casing.. No, y/n shut up you look hot, you can do this.

You can handle a hot guy, he’s just a guy. Turn around and look at him, it’s just a little eye contact. Deep breaths, it’s not like you haven’t done this before.  

Just look at him.

Looking meek or foolish is not on the agenda for today, you decide, while giving yourself the best possible pep talk you can. Somewhere deep inside you is enough gusto to pull on a mask of forced confidence. Like a mighty sword being unsheathed, ready to cut this man to ribbons with your raw, unabashed sex appeal.  

With any potential for embarrassment quietly ticked away for now, you polish off the remainder of your cocktail and turn around. His eyes haven’t left your figure though, and something makes you suspect they haven’t since you entered the building. This time, you stare back at him. Your shoulders are set down and back to ensure good posture, your legs are crossed, and you tilt your head to the side slightly, letting your hair fall in front of your shoulders. 

Now that you’re in full view of each other, it’s your turn to drink in his full appearance. He’s beautiful really, his long brunette tresses reach his shoulders, brushing against the dark blazer that fits him so well it might be tailor-made.  His white button-down barely peeks out from underneath, as it’s unbuttoned nearly to his navel. A few long necklaces lay against his bare chest, you can see them rise and fall with his breathing in his reclined, lax position. His pants are black and tight, and he’s wearing black leather Chelsea boots to finish the outfit. It’s safe to assume that he’s got a bit of money, he’s so polished and pristine, and it’s obvious he wants people to notice. Whatever he’s doing is working because, notice you do, and you can feel the unhinged thoughts rushing the floodgates of your mind. 

I bet he smells amazing.  

An image of yourself pressed up against a stall in the dingy bar bathroom with his lips attacking your neck quickly flashes through your mind. You shake the thought away and shift uncomfortably in your seat to offset the growing moisture in your panties.

Your eyes graze back up his tight little frame to intercept his line of sight, he’s wearing a devilishly smug smirk pointed in your direction. Something about his hungry stare makes it seem like he knows. It feels almost as if he knew exactly what you were thinking just now, and it makes you feel so vulnerable, so exposed, yet so needy. So much so that you almost don’t notice the side conversation he seems to be having with the blonde you had all but forgotten was there. She’s leaned in to hear him speak over the volume of the music, and though you’re nowhere near close enough to hear what he’s saying, you could watch his lips all night.

The woman at his side giggles and nods after he’s finished mumbling whatever it is he told her. It must have been fucking hilarious for her to be laughing so much, your eyes are already rolling before you can stop them.  

She gets up to exit the booth and he smacks her ass on her way out, which leaves a look of disdain on your face that you can’t quite disguise. You’ve never been jealous of a Malibu Barbie type before, but here you are wishing you were in her shoes anyway. Instead of heading in the direction of the exit, or even the bathroom, she starts walking directly toward you. 

Oh god, what the hell is this? Please don’t come over here, what if she’s coming to yell at me? Fuck I’m about to get bitch slapped in a bar.. 

“Hi!” She practically shouts in your face, way too chipper, and leans against the edge of the bar next to you before turning to the bartender. “One vodka cranberry.”

“Um, hello.” You don’t want to sound shaken while she orders the same drink as you, she could be very nice for all you know, but the broken nature of your greeting gives away everything you were trying to hide. Until now, she hadn’t even acknowledged your existence. Why would she though, since she was in the exact spot you wished you’d been in only minutes ago?

You glance back at the booth where she came from, the mystery man still observing this weird interaction over the edge of the glass he’s sipping from.  What you’re looking for from him, you’re not quite sure. Validation, answers, or anything at all, none of which are present in his dark stare.  

“Sorry if was bothering you guys, I didn’t mean to stare…” You mumble, turning your attention back to the blonde woman beside you.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. We’re just so sorry you got stood up, you look so sad by yourself over here.” She turns to face you flipping her hair over her shoulder, now holding the drink she ordered in her outstretched hand, offering it to you. Her voice is sickly sweet in a forced sort of way that makes you cringe.

“I’m sorry?” You ask, with an accusatory bite. 

Is it really that obvious? Shit, how pathetic could I possibly look..

“He wants you to come over to join him when you’re ready.” The ice in the glass clinks from side to side as she shakes it in front of your face, urging you to take it.

“That’s why your boyfriend has been eye fucking me all night? He wants me to join in your weird throuple?”  

“Oh, Jake’s not my boyfriend - and we’re not a throuple, he only asked for you.  Think of me sort of like a wingwoman” She half laughs in a sort of way that makes you feel as if you’re missing some obvious piece of vital information.  

“What about your friend who obviously thinks she’s getting lucky?” You gesture over to where the brunette is still feeling him up pretty excessively.

“I don’t know who that other girl is we just met her today, don’t worry about her though. I know it’s a lot but.. Just take the drink and go say hi, it’ll be more than worth your while.”

“So this Jake… he sends you over to buy my drink for me in hopes of.. what? So you can deliver me on a silver platter while he uses some poor girl in the same situation I am?” You scoff, in disbelief.

What the fuck? What an incredibly misogynistic asshole…

You can’t help but imagine what it would be like in the shoes of these other women waiting on him hand and foot just to be tossed aside. Even more unwelcome in your mind is the reminder that your ex was a manipulator, maybe a little worse than the likes of Jake, but a manipulator all the same. Complete with ego and entitlement. 

Every cell in your body becomes red hot, quaking, and ready to explode at the thought. Adrenaline boils so close to your skin that you barely have a moment to think about your next move before you grab the drink out of her hand and storm over, leaving her in your wake.  

With a flick of his hand, he shrugs off the smaller brunette that’s currently kissing his neck when he sees you approaching. You ignore her offended-sounding click of the tongue as she arranges herself and shuffles out of the booth pouting, passing you with your drink cocked and ready to throw in the face of the first person to test you.

“Are you fucking with me or something?” You hiss, admittedly louder than you had expected.  

“I’d love to.” He chuckles, places an elbow on the table, and sets down his glass to lean into your presence, not phased in the slightest by your outburst. 

“Seriously?You couldn’t even walk over to flirt with me yourself like a normal person, you had to send some poor girl to do it for you?!”

He chuckles to himself through an annoyingly adorable self-amuse smile. “She doesn’t need your pity, I promise you that.”

His pointedly rude comment throws you off. Confronting him seemed like a good idea from your safe distance away at the bar, but you had unknowingly walked directly into the lion's den. Every other man had always backed down when your feathers were ruffled, so his ability to take your shit wasn’t even on your radar until now, as he holds his own like a champ.  

“What is your deal? Do you get off on freaking out single women in bars or something?”

“You were staring at me just as much as I was staring at you, princess.” His calm, cocky tone sends a prickle across your skin.

“You were staring at me first!” Your comeback is decidedly childish, but given his condescending inflection, the small flicker of confidence that led you to this spot is about to burn out and you’re running out of ideas. Drink still in hand, you raise your arm threateningly as if to prove to him somehow that you’re bigger than him, and you’re not afraid to make a scene if need be. 

Instead of softening and caving like you had hoped, he stands up to meet you at his full height and reaches across the table to grasp your elbow, gently tugging you from your locked and loaded position.

“Lower your voice, and put the drink down.” The authority in his voice paired with the glowering look he points at you through furrowed brows shuts down any hope you had for the redemption you crave. You decide that letting him get his way this time won't hurt, so you slowly lower your drink to the table and slide it onto the surface in surrender. “I’m sorry if I scared you, now would you sit down?”

“You didn’t scare me.” Without missing a beat, you’re rolling your eyes and sliding into the booth just a few feet from the seat he’s returned to, almost as if you had no say over the matter. Even if a thinly veiled peace offering in the form of an apology isn’t quite going to cut it, the raw magnetism you feel towards him is too much to ignore.

“That’s a shame, I thought I’d at least intimidate you a little.” He relaxes back against the booth, smirking, and takes a sip of the brown liquid swirling around his glass. Watching his perfectly chiseled adam’s apple bob in his throat pulls your mind briefly to an image of that same neck dripping in sweat, hovering above you.  

Fucking focus.  Don’t let him shake you.

You down the rest of the liquid courage left in the vodka cranberry he bought you that didn’t spill over the edge between the bar and the table.  

“Well, Jake, is it? All you did was piss me off. You can’t just order people around because you look like that.” You wiggle one pointed finger at him, gesturing up and down his beautiful figure.  

“Look like what?” He cocks his head to the side, eyeing you curiously but still all too knowing. 

“Like… like you think you’re better than everyone. Don’t play with me, you know how attractive you are, and you’re using it to get what you want.”

“So you are attracted to me?”  It was barely a question.

“That’s not the point.” Hopefully he can’t tell how progressively it’s been getting for you to answer his questions.

“You’re funny” You don’t quite notice that he’s been getting closer to you as you talk.  “I’ve ordered you to do more than one thing so far tonight and you’ve done them all. Seems like it’s working pretty well to me, you just might not be as immune as you think.” He grabs your legs and pulls you towards him, draping them across his lap and hiking your skirt up a little higher on your thighs in the process.  

Your breath hitches in your throat as you gasp at the unexpected movement.  You have no more weapons in your arsenal and his accusation leaves you searching for a comeback that’s nowhere to be found. As infuriating as it might be, he’s absolutely right and you’re no match for his charms. He’s got you.

“You know my name, can I have yours?” His voice is a river of honey overflowing from his lips.

“I- I’m y/n.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Tell me y/n, do you think that maybe someone like me needs to order you around because maybe women like you don’t know what you want?”

“What are you talking about, I do too know what I want.”

“Go on then. Enlighten me.”

A hint of embarrassment starts to peek out from its hiding place inside you, threatening to make an appearance but his words are like a challenge. 

Who does he think he is? What kind of man thinks he knows me better than I know myself?

You glance around, over your shoulder trying to get a glimpse of either of his side pieces in the vicinity before making your next move. Once you confirm they’re both nowhere to be found, you lean against him a little more, pressing your ass against his thigh, and run your hand up his exposed chest. All while tangling your fingers in the necklaces that lay there.

“I’ll tell you what I don’t want and that’s some asshole at a bar telling me what to do.” You let a bit of a rasp present itself in your voice, turning the seduction factor up just a tad.

He acts unfazed but a poorly timed blink flickers something across his eyes that you can’t quite place. When you look into his eyes you load them with every ounce of need you possibly can. He reads you like a book. 

“I could rip you to shreds, princess.” 

“You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” Your voices are just barely loud enough for you to hear each other.

He catches your wrist in his grip, stopping the little circles you were rubbing into his skin.

“You’re playing with fire, y/n. You don’t know what you’re doing.” His eyes burn into yours with all the intensity and lust in the world, and his grip on your wrist tightens. 

“Ow-“ You wince at his strength and bite your lip, trying to stifle the unwelcome pleasure you feel accompanying the pain. In any other instance, you wouldn’t want anyone to hurt you, but with him, everything you’ve ever known is being thrown out the window with every word. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” There’s no real apology in his voice. “Does that hurt? Maybe you should think about the potential consequences of your actions before running that mouth.”

“Maybe you should make me.”

There’s a sharp inhale from Jake before his entire demeanor shifts. What seemed like harmless teasing and flirting before has changed into something far more sinister so suddenly it’s almost as if a switch was flipped inside him. “That’s it, you’re fucking done for. Come on, we’re leaving”

You start to panic as he pulls you from the booth, still gripping your forearm, towards the exit of the bar that leads out to the road. 

“Leaving? Where are we going?” 

“I’m gonna teach you some fucking manners.”

۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵

Outside, there is a black SUV ready and waiting at the curb.  As soon as you see it you stop dead in your tracks, no longer allowing your feet to follow wherever he deigned to drag you. Sure, you want into his pants, but that tiny possibility of stranger danger every woman needs to be aware of pops up in the back of your mind with the wave of a big red flag.

Once he notices he’s met with resistance, he turns back to look at you, concern flashes across his face. Glancing around to assess any potential bystanders, he loosens his grip on your arm in favor of taking both of your hands in his and meeting you where you stand.

“Trust me y/n, I promise I’ll take care of you” He leans in to whisper so only you can hear, lips tickling your ear. When his eyes return to view, he regards you with such sincerity you can’t help but believe. There’s almost a desperation in his eyes you haven’t seen before, begging you to take pity and come with him.  

Slowly, your heart flutters as you kiss him. What’s meant to be soft and chaste is deepened by his hands firmly wrapping around your waist, holding you in his arms for a moment of delicacy before the hunger returns.  

He grips your hips and turns you, breaking the kiss in the process and backing you into the car, as if he’s cornering you like a helpless animal towards the already open door. When your ankles hit the edge you fold and fall into the backseat, you use your hands to back yourself deeper into the car as Jake climbs in on top of you, pulling the door shut behind him. He immediately goes to work on devouring your neck and pushing your skirt up to your hips.

“Jake..” you whisper, “Jake, stop we’re not alone, he’ll see.” You nod slightly in the direction of the chauffeur since you can’t help but notice that there’s no privacy partition. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t like it. I know you want to be all pretty and exposed for my driver to see.” His voice isn’t hushed in the slightest, like you’d expect it to be in this situation.  

You can't find the words to respond, your heart is pounding and adrenaline is running at light speed through your veins. Right about now is when fear would rear its head and snap at you, forcing you to shut everything down and retreat, but there’s no sign of fear now, not even an inkling. He shoves your legs apart, triggering a little yelp to escape your lips. You had been unconsciously clenching your thighs together, but now Jake's hand is between them, lazily running a finger through your slit now that he’s pulled your panties aside to make room for him. 

“Look at him.”  

“But Jake…” A deep blush rises in your cheeks at the mere thought of what he’s asking you to do.

“Be a good slut and do as I say.” 

You shudder at the deep growl in his voice and peek in the direction of the driver. All you can see is the back of his head, but you do catch the reflection of his eyes in the rearview mirror flickering between the road and the scene unfolding in the back seat. Watching the look in the driver’s eye teeter on the edge of discomfort and arousal is just hot enough to make you bite your own lip. At that same time, Jake decides this is the best time to glide two fingers inside you and stretch you out in search of that sweet spot.  

The movement of his fingers pulls a high-pitched, pornographic moan from your throat just as the driver peeks back in the mirror to peer down at you and you can see his soul leave his body through his eyes when he hears you.  Jake stiffens in his pants flush against your leg, along with the driver, you can only assume. It was an amusing and disgustingly slutty thing of him to do, but it unexpectedly fueled your flame.

“You were right Jakey... I did like that.” Your words come out as a slew of pitchy moans.

“See, you’re learning so much already.” 

A light cough from the driver breaks the tension. “Sir, we’ve arrived.”

Jake barely looks up from where he’s kissing across the tops of your breasts, it seems neither of you noticed that you’d stopped moving, or even began for that matter. “Remember when I asked you to trust me?”

You nod, eagerly, barely recalling the moment of vulnerability you shared outside the bar through the fog that his hand inside you has created, edging you into oblivion.  

“Do you still trust me, princess?”

Based on tonight’s current track record, you’re obviously destined to take an unexpected turn or two before the night is over. An idea that’s both terrifying and thrilling, but that moment of vulnerability is more than enough for you to hold onto hope that he won’t hurt you. You do trust him, as much as you can trust a mysterious stranger from a bar.

You shake your head from side to side, just to fuck with him a little, biting your lip and squeezing your walls around his fingers all the while.

“You brat, you’re too cute for your own good.” He rolls his eyes with a smile, not buying your shitty attempt at bluffing. Though it seems it did tease him just enough to work him up the wall even further than he already is.

With one hand, he opens the car door, the other still deep in your oozing cunt. He presses lightly against your sweet spot with two fingers and holds pressure there. “Get up.”

The intensity of his fingers, stiff and unmoving against the most sensitive part of you would be enough to bring you to your knees if he twitched them even an inch. You do as he says and sit up, but the moment you do he starts to back out of the car, his hooked fingers pulling you along with him.  

“Jake, wait…” You wince and suck in a shaky breath and inch closer to alleviate even a little bit of the growing pressure. For every move you make towards him, he moves farther away until you’re clambering out of the back seat onto a winding drive that leads up to a large and beautiful house.  

You grab his wrist, trying to free yourself from his grasp. Instead of relinquishing control, his free hand wraps around your throat and pushes you back against the side of the car. Your faces are barely inches from each other when you swear under your breath.  

“Don’t be fucking naughty, y/n. You’ll spoil my fun.” He curls his fingers agonizingly slow against your sweet spot. “Understand?” 

His breath is hot and delicious against your skin, you swear you could get drunk on it if he kept you there long enough. You manage a little bit of a nod and a shudder with your limited range of motion and concede with the release of his wrist.  

“Good girl.” He leads you into the house, only pulling his hand from your core once you’re through the door.

He instructs you to get on your knees while he undoes his belt, not breaking eye contact as you sink down. 

“Hands behind your back.” He commands. 

For a split second, you hesitate, deciding what way you want this to play out.  

He’s getting rather comfortable telling me what to do, maybe it’s time to fight back.  

I gave him hell at the bar, I can’t make him think I’m all bark and no bite.

The thought process lasts a little too long for his liking, apparently, and a light but surprising tap from the belt folded over in his fist lands on the side of your arm.  

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” You do as he says, silently cursing yourself for being so quick to submit and he binds your wrists together using his belt. The leather biting your skin ever so slightly.

He circles you once, then twice, eyeing you as you look down at the plush area rug you’re knelt on, trembling for his touch. His presence alone makes you wish he would rip your clothes off and take you right here on the floor. Keeping up your defiant exterior is going to be next to impossible, but you know it can work wonders to get him worked up the way you want him to be, to get him to put his hands on you.

Finally, he bends to your level and lowers the straps of your dress down your shoulders, allowing the front of your dress to fall, exposing your breasts to him. He takes hold of your nipples, pinching them and twisting them until you squirm under his touch. A small whimper escapes your lips, prompting Jake to chuckle as he stands and undoes the remaining zipper and button of his pants. 

“This is what you wanted, isn't it, dirty girl?” He taunts, knowing full well what you want. The fact that just a bit of fabric is the only thing keeping you from the bulge he’s holding just out of reach is excruciating. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, Sir.”

A noise of contentment rumbles in his chest. “I knew you could be a good pet for me, learning so quickly. Now let me see that pretty tongue.”

You don’t oblige immediately, once again, prompting him to take hold of your jaw with that firm grip you’ve come to know and love. His exposed cock is out and in hand, throbbing deliciously, and he places it on your tongue after forcing it open with a tight squeeze of your chin and a few taps of the head against your cheek. You wrap your lips around him and bob your head along the shaft, suckling on the tip every time you pull away. You look up at him through your lashes to see him gazing down at you with his lips parted, his glorious features contorted into a look of concentration. When he catches your eyes you rub your legs together seeking any source of friction against your clit, eager to pleasure yourself to this view.   

“Ah ah ah,” He scolds, and pushes your knees apart with his foot, not breaking the seal.  “You’ll touch yourself if, and only if, I say so.” When you groan in protest, he places one of his boots between your legs, grinding it against your sopping wet pussy in a way that catches your clit just right.  

You whine around his cock at the new sensation and grind down against it in response, savoring the delightfully rough feeling of the leather on your delicate skin. Moan after moan somersaults out of you while you swivel your hips chasing your release, getting you closer and closer with each roll of your bud over his boot, spurring him on as he grunts along with you.

“Awwww what’s wrong, darling?” He fakes sympathy for your state.  “Too much? Stop moving and I’ll let you go.” 

You try to release him from your mouth to answer, but he grabs the back of your head and thrusts into your mouth, fucking the back of your throat at a relentless pace that causes you to choke. With tears starting to stream down your cheeks from the sheer size of him, an involuntary guttural moan reverberates around his cock, almost doubling him over.  

He pulls you off him by your hair, huffing, exasperated, and then moves his boot away from you to inspect the evidence of your arousal. With the sudden change in pace you groan in protest, grieving the loss of yet another orgasm.  

“Now you’ve made a mess on my boots, you just love misbehaving. Don't you?” 

You shake your head. 

“Clean up your mess.”

Tears still streaming down your cheeks from choking, you decide to test your luck once more. Partly because you’re not quite sure what he’s asking of you, but also because you’re barely keeping a grip on the bratty facade you’ve created. So you pull out a shit eating grin and choke out a broken, “No”

“No? Did you forget what happens when you disobey?” There’s a merciless, almost terrifying cadence to the question.  

You didn’t forget though, how could you possibly forget? Neverless, you do your best not to let on how easily he’s cracking your shell.

“No, I’m sorry.”

“No, what? Come on, I know you can be a good girl.”

“No sir.. I’m sorry, I’ll be so good.. I promise.” You pant, desperate.

He weaves his fingers into your hair, wrapping his hand once around the strands.  

��If you want me to turn you into my pretty little cock sleeve, you’ll prove you can be good and clean up your mess.” He punctuates each word, driving the point home that he’s no longer making requests. With an iron-clad hold on your already defenseless body, he bends you at the waist drawing you towards the ground until you’re face to face with your soaked ride. 

It dawns on you exactly what he means and your stomach flips three times over.  

Jake has been surprising you consistently, all night, with sickly sexy acts that have your jaw on the floor. Licking your own cream off his little black boots is undeniably one of them. 

You extend your tongue and collect a pile of your juices on the flat of it, panting heavily to maintain your composure. 

“You like that don’t you.. How do you taste?” He asks, his tone practically dripping with lust.  

As if it’s second nature, you collect another pile on your tongue and tilt your face upwards, offering it to him. He hums low in his throat as he yanks you off the floor to his height so he can wrap his lips around your tongue, slurping your juices up before dipping his own tongue into your mouth to savor the taste of you a bit longer. 

“Just like I thought, fucking delicious.” He frees your hands from his belt so you can get your bearings, and you absentmindedly rub your wrists to ease the pressure marks left there.

“Yeah? Are you gonna eat me up?” You can feel your lips are red and puffy, but you bite them anyway as you tease him. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you are delicious.. But I like to play with my food before I eat it.” His words send a shudder down your spine and shake every last bit of air from your lungs with a broken exhale.

You’ve never been degraded like this before, but judging based on the way your clit is quivering and you feel like you could combust at any second, you file it away for future use. Shame has never felt so good as when it’s surrounded by praise from Jake's perfect lips. 

With that, he takes hold of your wrist and turns, dragging you along behind him, making you stumble and trip trying to keep up with him until he scoops you into his arms to carry you up a flight of stairs that leads to his bedroom. He effortlessly tosses you onto the bed like a rag doll once you arrive. 

“Panties off. On all fours.” He commands.

You slide your panties down, not daring to disobey him again, and scramble into position on the pillow-soft mattress. You hear him pulling off his clothes as they fall to the floor, followed by the gentle rustling of the bedsheets dipping from his weight as he moves across them. Instead of the soft head that you were expecting, you feel the familiar leather of his belt running up the backs of your thighs. 

“Jake.. I don’t know about this..”

“You didn’t think you’d get off without punishment, did you? No, you’ve been acting up, babygirl. I want to feel your red hot ass against my legs when I fuck you.”

He glides the belt across your slit once, tapping it lightly to ease you into the sensation, making you jump slightly. Your breathing picks up and you grit your teeth in anticipation as he rolls the belt over your skin in little circles. You turn your head to look at him and catch him watching you, gauging your reaction.  Probably for any sign of protest, but there’s none to be found amidst your boiling excitement. You wiggle your ass at him a little to signal you’re ready. 

Suddenly, all sensation is gone leaving you defenseless momentarily before he brings the belt down swiftly over your ass with a crack. You cry out, and he soothes his hand over the spot before repeating the action, spanking you over and over in perfect rhythm sending your body jolting forward. Each one stinging more than the last with only a brief brush of his hand to ease the pain. You bite your tongue as best as you can between each strike until you let out a quiet sob, sniffling away the tears, but it doesn’t stop your body from shaking. 

One brush of his hand over your ass stops him mid-swing. He pauses, leaving his hand to rest there, it seems like he’s reading your feelings through the palm of his hand and the emotion hidden in your noises. He sounds a small mewl that can only be described as pathetic as he drops to his knees at the edge of the bed and cups your face in his hands.  

“Are you okay?  Why didn’t you stop me if it was too much?” If you weren’t already crying, you’d weep at the desperation of his words. 

“I’m okay.” You shake your head and smile up at him weakly. Through blurry vision and wet lashes you can make out his features, wiped clean of any trace of heat replaced now with terror. All you want is for him to look at you like a goddess again. “You can keep going.”

He nods in understanding and gently wipes your tears with his thumbs and returns to his spot behind you on the bed. On instinct, your muscles tense, bracing for another impact.   

“I’m not going to push you anymore, princess. Take some deep breaths.”  He kisses your bruises softly and tosses his belt away and off to the side of the bed in plain view so you can see it’s been discarded, you give your sore muscles permission to relax.

He really is much softer than I thought. 

“You’ve earned a reward.” He smooths his hands over your tender battered skin one last time, then spreads your lips a little a bit as he bends to lick you. He starts with a long stripe and slowly picks up speed to set a frenzied pace, every once in a while sucking your clit into his mouth or flicking his tongue over your ass.  

You approach the peak so easily since you were teetering close to the edge already. Whimpers and curses flow out of you like a roaring river.

“That’s right, my pet. Purr for me.” Hearing him sound so out of breath between his words, peppered in with the swipes over your sensitive bud have you leaping over the edge of your orgasm. He works you through it with ease, slurping up every bit of what you gave him.  

You half expected him to keep going, to overstimulate you beyond belief, but he simply brings you back down from your cloud as you relax your body into the mattress.

“Can I have one more, Sir?” You roll over onto your back, splaying your legs for him while you look up at him with the best doe eyes you can manage. 

“One more, she says. Who said you get to be greedy?” It’s fully your fault when he takes advantage of your exposed state to land two quick spanks on your pussy. You take them as a well deserved scold, but whine to him anyway. “You’re a needy little slut, huh? You’re lucky I like hearing you beg.”

“Please, I want to feel you.” He situates himself on the bed and effortlessly pulls you into his lap, lining you up and shoving himself inside you with no warning before you can even finish your sentence.

You’re beginning to get a sneaking suspicion that he could be just as weak for you as you are for him.  

These are thoughts for another time though, since your mind begins to cloud over as he ferociously fucks up into you while simultaneously pulling you tighter against him by your shoulders.  

There are no thoughts at all really.  

The sequence of events makes you feel as though you’d never be more turned on again in your whole life. As though you could sleep with a million people after this night and not one of them would live up to this moment. It could have happened in slow motion, there could’ve been background music or even an audience of onlookers and you wouldn’t be able to notice. All that matters is how he’s making your eyes roll to the back of your head.  

He moans your name in waves, praising you for how good you feel, how perfect your cunt is. His brows knit up and worry lines appear as he continues his vicious attack on your core, bucking his hips up against your sweet spot and into your cervix. An overwhelming feeling you’re happy to succumb to if it means you can see this look on his face.  

Pressed skin to skin, you wrap your arms around him, cradling his head in your arms until your fingers are buried in his hair. You hold each other this way, intimately until your orgasms manifest together, unfolding like a butterfly emerging from her chrysalis. The warmth of his cum flooding your insides just adds to the pleasure until you slowly come to a halt together.

Though your eyes are still closed, you let him rock the both of you back until you’re lying together, resting your weight on top of him. He pulls out slowly so as to not overwhelm you and pets your hair gently as if you could crack under his touch at any second. Your cheek is pressed against the skin of his chest, sticky with a light sheen of sweat. The smell of sex on him is intoxicating, so you press a few open-mouthed kisses against his chest, savoring the salty essence left on your lips. 

In your post-fuck stupor, you let your mind run a mile a minute as your breathing returns to normalcy.

“Did you have that girl put something in my drink, Jakey?” The question is out before you have time to realize how ridiculous it sounds.

“Why would I need to drug your drink?” You can’t see his face, but you can hear the shock laced with mild amusement in his voice.

You shrug. “I would normally never do something like this. I’m shy, I don’t have terrifying sex with beautiful strangers.”

Jake chuckles in an adorable way that makes your cheeks burn and kisses the top of your head. “Would you feel better about yourself if I did?”

“No,” you reply without hesitation. “I don’t want to be the shy girl anymore.”

“Good, 'cause you’re not. You bagged me all on your own.” 

You roll your eyes at his relentless ego making another appearance.

“You’ll have to learn to actually trust me, babygirl.”

“I do.”

You smile and drift off into a quiet sleep, breathing in his scent while admiring the red marks on your wrists. 

۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵♡۵

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[usagi-t-suki]

After watching the first episode of The Idol, I could already see some aspects of the “4 steps of cult recrutament” in Joss and Tedros’ relationship:

Picking the right target:  Research has shown that the people who are the most susceptible to recruitment are stressed, emotionally vulnerable, have tenuous or no family connections, or are living in adverse socioeconomic conditions.

Joss is said to have had a nervous breakdown and the loss of her mother doesnt help much.

Love-bombing: Having identified a stressed, emotionally vulnerable target, cults flood that person with affection, flattery, and validation. Cult awareness educator Ronald N. Loomis described this practice on college campuses as involving “a recruiter approaching the student and doing everything [they] can to make the student feel special and unique. They’re quickly trying to convey the message that I am your new best friend. And they will fake mutual interests in order to give the impression that they share many things in common.”

In the last scene of the first episode, Joss shows Tedros her new song, which she’s not confident in it’s potencional, that the song is too superficial. He assures her that the song is good but doesn't think she is confident enough to sing it and it's only after she "accepts" his invitation (the asphyxiation part) that he says she will be able to sing the song

Isolation:  Once they’ve enticed a recruit with approval or the promise of some fulfilling understanding of the universe, cultists then work to isolate the recruit. Often, this takes the form of a weekend retreat, where the recruit is immersed in the cult’s ideology over the course of a few days. Not only are recruits physically isolated from friends and family members who might otherwise provide a reality check, but cults often isolate recruits from outside information.

Joss already feels like it. The people around her all work for her and lie to her. In the trailer we see that Dyanne, someone who Joss is jealous cuz she “wishes she could dance like her”, is going to sign with Joss’ label. I don’t think they are going to make Jennie’s character a full villain (The Weeknd’s character is obviously the main villain, the summaries confirm it) but I believe Tedros is going to take this as a opportunity to isolate Joss futhermore from her staff.

Keeping control:  After convincing you that they’re the best friends you’ve ever had and bombarding you with the cult’s ideology, the cultists’ next job is to make sure they hang on to you. There’s a variety of techniques they can use to accomplish this, but these usually involve iteratively subjecting the cult recruit to terror and love.

Again, back to the last scene in the first episode. Tedros even mentions Joss’ deceased mother during the scene, something that she is still getting over it. That was a emoticional manipulating so he could recruit and control her.

I actually believe that was Amy Seimetz inicial intentions for the plot. Sam Levinson is an awful person but as far as I know he wasn’t the one who started with the idea. Seimetz wanted to show the dark side of fame, Levinson only a dark side.

I’m happy that people are not seeing it as a romantic relationship, but different from many I feel that, if done right, those kind of emotional maniputation could be made for TV and film, show that there are people like this in this world, that not everything is sugar and sweet, but also show that those people are also awful. Show the side that they let the victim see and then show their true form. Again, IF done right, something I don’t think Sam Levi will ever do. I hope that with time, The Weeknd’s character is shown like that. That they dont just sugarcoat his relationship with Joss.

Better show something fictional than fictionaze some real tragedy and have people romanticize it like some did with Dahmer.

[alyjojo]

Love Reading ⚧️ - February 2024 - Gemini

Singles:

Who is Coming In: The High Priestess, The Magician & 6 Swords

Regarding: 2 Cups

Long-Term Potential: Death rev & 2 Wands

One of two things here. Either you’ve been quietly considering the idea of leaving someone you’re with, making it a reality, possibly for someone else, or you’re quietly talking to someone that you think is going to leave someone they’re with - for you. Either way it’s not happening, they don’t want to leave anything, or you don’t. Maybe it’s a short spell and you realize that’s not actually what you/they want. Death rev & 2 Wands show progress being made, a future being planned, being at crossroads and making the decision that it’s not over - no matter who is making the decision. All oracles & messages indicate this person may just disappear, you do, or the idea does altogether if it was only that in the first place. 2 Cups is genuine love, so if someone is returning, or you’re changing your mind even, that’s why. Nothing wrong with that. For some it’s just you vs you and this is all private, something you stew over and wonder.

Messages:

- Uncomfortable Tendencies 🥴

- GHOST 👻

CUT DOWN 🪓

- Cutting Out

- Separation

- Stop the Pattern

- Silent Treatment

Signs you may be dealing with:

Cancer, Gemini, Pisces & Scorpio

Couples:

Them: Page of Swords, 2 Pentacles & 4 Swords

Regarding: The Devil

Because your person has Love ❤️ as the Oracle, the main story I see is where you two are good together and some outside party causes drama in your life - probably family, and probably theirs. It’s also possible there’s some baby mama/daddy drama with an ex you have to deal with often, or a loud & confident friend that may seem supportive but actually starts shit, someone that is “too much”, they’re drama, and they make demands to get their way - but call them “expectations” or standards, something like that. Abusing the term “boundaries”, but only as it suits them. This person is exhausted, they’re tired of dealing with whatever this is, it’s probably something unrelated to you - for most. This is someone that deals with a lot of negativity in their world, the people around them, beliefs or spoon fed bs they’ve been believing as truth for a long time - it’s toxic, and it’s giving GUILT. Guilted into helping (family?), guilted into forgiveness, manipulation by means of…if they don’t, they’ll lose people, and they love these people. Even if it’s you, or your family/friends, they’re just tired of dealing with this from wherever it’s coming from.

If there is no 3rd party, then this may be carried over from the single’s reading, they’re thinking of leaving, they go back and forth, because they want things to get better but they feel stuck to something unhealthy, a negative cycle or mindset, and they feel like if they don’t maybe nothing ever changes. Spiritually Dead Inside shows them as pure logic, all swords for them too, they’re using their head, not their heart, not Spirit, and Page of Swords being an energy of learning…they could be taking action to search out other people like them, other situations like this and what people have done about it. Going over options, rabbit holes, thinking through it. Maybe talking to you. They aren’t someone with a lot of emotional responses, they’re trying to analyze what’s wrong so they can let this go, make it stop. If this is someone you’re dating, and you’re dating other people or have been, then you’ve been honest about it. They may seem detached, but they’re hurt, they actually love you and think it could be better for them to just leave whatever this is behind - you’re happy and they’re not, you’re too different perhaps. In this case, you could be unconsciously - negatively - affecting their self worth & esteem. Or someone around you does, based on what they hear, say or know about what’s going on, there could be a lot of gossip and chatter that this person wants to stop as well. If you like to drink, this person may not. Some of these people may be tasked with breaking generational curses, but they’re not the spiritual sort to really understand what that is, they just know that it’s toxic for them ☠️

Messages:

- Spiritually Dead Inside ☠️

- I’m Exhausted With This 😵

LOVE ❤️

- Unconditional Love

- Self-Love & Wholeness

- Affection & Attraction

- Selflessness

Grounding 🌳

“Go deep; explore your roots.”

Quit obsessing about whether you’re a good enough mother, father, or any other family member. If your motive is pure, God knows your heart.

You: Page of Cups, 9 Wands & The World

Regarding: 3 Cups

Your energy is great, it’s young, Page of Cups, but I don’t see anything unhealthy about it. You like to socialize, be with friends, go out and have a good time. You may have a close knit group or family that tell each other everything. If that’s a problem, you don’t see it that way, and there may be one person in particular - possibly a fire sign/placement - that really likes to stir the pot and cause drama, I’m hearing “that’s just what they do.” You enjoy being this way, you’re realizing the differences between you and this person, because whatever they desire from you, you don’t even want it! You want to have a good time, surrounded by your people, and they should be joining you - not keeping you away from it. You’re hurt by what is expected of you from this person, or maybe a friend on the outside of it, could be something that’s was said really hurt you. You have no intention of ending something. If they want you to quit, you’re looking at them like they’re crazy, “this is who I am.” With them showing up as The Devil, they could have some control issues or inner standards they expect you to live up to, to fit their image of perfection or some bs, that may be something passed down through family or learned as well. They’re needing to sort through that on their own (will they though, idk), and you’re needing to take things one day at a time. If they want you to end a connection, you won’t. Maybe they want you to be less open and honest with others, more private, but I don’t see that happening either. I think you’re aware you two aren’t aligned properly, you may be too different, and rather than the game of control where each of you tries to change the other to be more like them…maybe it’s better to find someone that just fits what you actually want. Some of you may have ended this already, some of you may have other people waiting on a roster, because you’re attractive and exciting - it’s like get on board or move along buddy. Maybe it’s your family that bothers them?

Messages:

- I just don’t know what to say.

- We don’t want the same things.

PARTYING 🥳

- Time With Friends

- Having Fun

- Happily Single

- Living in the Moment

Fogged In 💨

“Go slow; take time.”

Try to go one day without complaining and only affirm the positive.

Mutual: The Hanged Man, Queen of Wands & 5 Wands

Regarding: 9 Cups rev

You’re both unhappy where things presently stand with each other. Someone may have started drama between you, or you told your person your mom/friend’s advice and now they’re all pissed off because “Mind your business Janet.” You may feel they’re trying to control the narrative, and you, truth is truth, and your friends support you. They have The Devil, that may be true 💯 If this is about addiction or substances, it’s not going to change, you both want what you want. They may hold off taking a stand because they don’t want the drama, but they don’t like it, it’s not doing it for them and they’re considering whether they should even bother sticking around. Some are conflicted about standing up to this other person because the other person is very dramatic and makes big scenes or displays of chaos - could be an outside party as well. Or there may be some new lover involved, someone attractive and flirty, probably someone around you, and that pisses them off. If that’s the case I don’t see any outside person as being what you want, but maybe they don’t know that. Or you’re hesitating setting boundaries with the drama in particular because of the backlash you may receive from this person. They may be dramatic and over the top - but that’s not your problem, or anything you have to tolerate, don’t be afraid to tell people to have a seat, anyone worthwhile will respect the honesty. They support you right? But if you’re the one creating drama, you could be the one facing boundaries enforced by others. Be careful you don’t avoid standing in your own power, being attractive, fun, passionate, because it’s going to piss someone off - not your problem, you don’t come with strings to control you, nor can Gemini with anyone else - if it’s switched ❤️ Whether a friend, family, or partner, no one gets to dictate what you do or don’t do. Or you may feel exactly this way - regarding your person and people they’re dealing with. Their Mom doesn’t like that you wear makeup, you could give a fk & just buy more, boundaries are necessary, and should be respected…but it goes both ways, and something about this as a whole, isn’t healthy.

NOT TODAY 😤

- Boundaries & Hurt

- Avoiding Conversation

- Not Dealing

- Still Upset

Answering the Call ☎️

“The time is now.”

Helping others and getting outside yourself can help the most powerful method of cleansing.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Capricorn, Pisces & Gemini, heavy water & air

[mildlycursedhistoricalobject]

Can I talk about how people talk about attachment styles? Because like, whether or not people should be using attachment theory, they are, and some of the stuff they’re saying is so shit.

Like my therapist from a few years ago went over attachment theory, and I would fall into the avoidant category. Which I know makes me a difficult person to date, and I’m very aware of my triggers (I have ptsd) and I make sure I communicate with my partners when I’m feeling disconnected and I try to handle that as best I can.

However, all I keep seeing when attatchment theory is brought up is people saying not to date an avoidant under any circumstances and that it’s “not worth it” and they’re awful people and their trauma isn’t an excuse to be “abusive.” And like, yeah, I totally understand why people would have those reactions (and I’m not condoning emotional manipulation or abuse) especially if they’ve been hurt before. I mean, I freely admit that I can be difficult to be in a relationship with, and if someone doesn’t want to be in a relationship with me because of it, I respect that too.

But saying that “avoidants” shouldn’t be allowed to date, or aren’t worth love is just so fucked up. I’m aware that I need to work on myself and my relationships harder than most people, and that ensuring I can be intimate comes from me first, but I’m still a person.

Idk, so many articles are about “how to cope when your partner is avoidant” and I understand why, and I’m sorry if you’ve been hurt by someone like me. But half the time I’m trying to find a resource that’ll help me stop beung avoidant and all I really find is people telling me I shouldn’t date until I’m “fixed.” Sentiments like these are not helpful by any means, and it really just reinforces the belief that I should be better off alone even though I crave closeness, which is kinda the whole deal with an avoidant attatchment style as it is.

It just feels like people are understanding about mental health issues until it becomes something they don’t understand. Or until it becomes something that’s socially unacceptable. People seem to understand the need to ask for reassurance, but the need to ask for space? Apparently that’s too far.

I’m not really sure what I’m trying to say here, but my main point is, when we’re looking at theories or therapy speak, I really think there needs to be more of an awareness that real people actually do struggle with these things. “X attatchment style” isn’t something we should be throwing around like an accusation and it shouldn’t be a death sentence for dating. I see this kind of thing a lot with personality disorders too and it fucking sucks, it really does.

Mental illness shouldn’t be supported only when it’s something “acceptable” though I hesitate to use that term because pretty much any symptom of any mental illness is treated in the same way. I’m just tired I guess, and I think we need to be more careful than we are when talking about these issues.

[unohanabbygirl]

I hope we aren’t bombarding you with so many questions, truly appreciate your responses. And please feel free to ignore if you don’t wish to reveal any new info about your stories.

SPOILERS FMN……

SPOILERS be warned…

I had a couple questions in regards to certain things about the characters

Will Aemond reveal how he lost his eye or was that already mentioned in FMN?

If milk of the poppy is very addicting, does it mean that Luke is somewhat addicted to it since it’s implied that he used it a few times with Owen? He has track marks on his thighs, is that something that might surprise his family of how bad things got for Luke?

Is Owen an OC or were you inspired by a particular actor? Not much is known about Owen but I have an itch to know who he is and how he looks like.

Did Owen love Luke or he just manipulated Luke for his own uses? I know it’s a weird question to ask and the most obvious answers would be of course he didn’t love him if he treated Luke that way but sometimes in a villains head they actually believe they are “in love,” and will Aemond be jealous or concerned when he realizes that Luke still somewhat loves Owen?

Not at all! I love answering questions. They make me happy so never be shy to send an ask lol

I haven’t revealed how he lost the eye but that’ll come up more later on in the story. There haven’t been any outright hints, but during one of Aemond’s pov’s it’s revealed that he suffered painful episodes as a child when he began to remember the night he originally lost it.

Aemond has attempted to claw out his eye several times during these episodes but never succeeded. However, having both his eyes made him feel unlike himself in a way. One would even say loosing it made him feel normal again.

Milk of the poppy is very similar to heroin in the sense that its an opioid and as we all know, those can easily send someone spiraling into addiction.

Luke developed a dependency because after the first time shooting up Owen would give it to him at times he was more restless then usual and either sit back and watch or do it as well. They were arrested before it could turn into a full on addiction. However, If Luke were to come into contact with it again he would most definitely fall back into using because the memory of how it made him feel. How it took away all of his stress and anxiety. Very dangerous path to walk down.

The marks are something Luke feels a lot of shame and embarrassment about. He does his best to hide them so he rarely wears shorts and when he does they’re on the longer side. Because of this no one would find out unless #1, Luke was ready to reveal what happened (and physically show ) Or #2, he was walked in on in a state of undress.

Everyone’s reaction would be different, but the main emotion would be shock/horror/rage. The family is already slowly starting to realize Luke’s been through bad shit, but they’ve never allowed their thinking to go that far. Almost like “their Luke” would never fall into something such as that. Lots of tears and self blaming would come into play.

At first Owen saw Luke as nothing more than a way of getting what he needed, a tool you could say. Overtime he began to see Luke as a pet. Not in the sense that you love and cherish them, but like a dog to entertain you and nothing more. Owen enjoyed that if he said jump Luke would ask “how high?”

There was no love there in any sense. Only a sadistic need to embarrass and humiliate while also earning a way to pay off debts and a willing drug peddler who only asked for affection in return. Much of what Luke thinks of Owen is seen through the lens of someone who’s been manipulated. What he remembers to be loving kisses full of passion were nothing of the sort on Owen’s side. Substance abuse, lack of love and teenage naivety made him blind to it. Not to mention that abusers are often good liars, they have to be in order to gain initial trust.

Aemond may be a dummy at times, but he once he gets the full story the only thing he’ll feel is absolute concern (and rage)

There won’t be any jealousy, but his reaction to Luke’s feelings may be tone deaf in a way. Asking why he still feels for Owen even after all the man has done to hurt him. His heart will be in the right place but his approach won’t be the best.

He’ll quickly get set straight, so no worries.

[locution-youngster-enjoyer]

Gonna rant about my villain OC’s under the cut (TW: dr*gs mentioned briefly)

CC

Any pronouns but preferably they/them (their personal philosophy is that “The only labels I believe in are designer!”)

Somewhere in late 20s

CC’s whole thing is that they are a fashion designer. Alignment wise they are very neutral, living by the idea that “any customer is a friend of mine, but any enemy of my customer is also my enemy.” Design wise they have a mullet hairstyle that is various shades of a blue/cyan color, light skin, and brown eyes. They will usually wear a white button down shirt that is slightly open, black slacks with a multicolor pattern on them, measuring tape instead of a belt that sticks out in a tail-like kind of way, and knee-high black boots with high heels. They usually where a lot of makeup and jewelry.

Power and fighting wise, they are not overly superhuman. Their intense knowledge of fashion helps provide them with various weapons, their main ones being Claw-Rings that they use not only to attack, but to also sew together clothing like a spider. They can also attach other bits of cloth to the rings.

Personality wise they are very upbeat and friendly. They are never mean to someone’s face, but will make snide remarks behind their back. Think similar to Mettaton from Undertale. If Wordgirl were a darker show, there would be a more unhinged side to CC suggesting that out of all the villains, they’ve probably have committed the worst crime ethically speaking and their personality would come across as much more bi-polar.

Ozzy and Mandy

Ozzy (he/him) and Mandy (she/her) are twins. It’s hard to tell their age because of how young and pretty they look.

Although both of them are villains, Ozzy has worse intent than Mandy. These two have two gimmicks, the first one being that they speak in Iambic Pentameter (so around 10 syllables per sentence). Their second gimmick is that they manipulate emotions and specifically make others fall in love with them. Most love poems are written in Iambic Pentameter and even their names are based of the poem Ozymandias, another poem written in Iambic Pentameter.

Mandy has curly black hair that goes slightly passed her shoulders and light skin with blue eyes. She wears a black and pink dress with a slit and fluffy pink sleeves, and high heels. A lot of her design features the symbol for women. Ozzy has similar skin and eyes with that stereotypical boy-band hairstyle. He wears a lot of black and blue, this time with a t-shirt exposing his chest, a sleeveless denim jacket, and black jeans, with the symbol for men being featured a lot.

Their main power involves emotional manipulation in a way that’s technically just mind control. To control a person, they have to either kiss them or blow colored fog (Mandy gets pink and Ozzy gets blue) in their face. Another big power they have is the ability to create several extra wispy, fog-like arms (once again, the color is different depending on who is doing it). Besides that, the two do t have many powers but can put up a decent physical fight.

Mandy, though she can be malicious, is also big on the theme of consent when it comes to romance and tends to be the more caring of the two. People generally prefer her over her brother. Ozzy is more interested in his own personal gain and has grown salty of people favoring his sister over him. Again, if wordgirl was a darker show, I feel like at one point the two could be used as an allegory for substance abuse, since there powers are really trippy.

[thegreatlarryfisherman]

They said I was crazy when I had that mental breakdown. Throwing away everything. No I got a chance to be with myself again, to see her underneath those broken wings and say, “I’ll get you out. I’ll save your life.”

And I fucking did. It may suck living alone, handling all the finances, accepting I’ll never earn the right to see Mac Miller live.. because it was my driving force for so long. And now each night I’m like grateful just to be able to spin a record, or think about him in my own mind, my own home.

I earned this peace after being sexually assaulted, manipulated, stolen from, left to die in a hospital because I was too crazy for saying “we’re all trapped in some fucked to made up system where we think social media is real life. I want my old life back. The one where I was free to be everything I imagined.”

And I’m back here now. No strings attached. No additives. Not being forced to do or conform or be anything. Whatever I feel is my best that day, I do it. My best gets better every time too. Sometimes I gotta cry a lot first.

It was worth it. It’s also a big ending to everything you ever held dear.

Be afraid.

Start over.

Disappear.

Get it together.

Fuck what they heard.

Being lame and being yourself are cool as fuck. It’s literal magic. People will stifle your joy to make you completely fucking miserable by accident. Emotions are strong. People will hurt you because they love you. Stay with me. Don’t leave me. Don’t grow.

Trust me.

I needed this. More than I ever knew. Does it suck to never have “made it,” the thing that everyone would thought was gonna make it big? Fuck yeah. “sometimes these breakdowns are made to break through.”

I used to hurt myself just to feel. Now, I know loss. Grief. Happiness. Peace. Determination. Relaxation. Celebration.

I’ve died in so many people’s minds at this point, I’m certain most people have this fabric of a slither of someone my parents created. They’ve got glimpses of me but at this point, anyone who feels it now around me is because they and I both made the Choice to understand each other. To accept each other.

While everything else is take, take, abandon. Live your anxiety. Take. Hate. Darkness.

I worked all my life to accept others. To speak about what I felt but to never push. Let people grow through and help them go through.

I’ve always been misunderstood.

I guess now I’ve learned to accept that about myself. Because to die is to merely stop existing. The parts of me that have hurt and been hurt, that don’t exist anymore. My peace is finally allowing my soul to rest from all the work it was doing that never really got noticed.

Mending that broken heart is hard. Crying for all the people you disappointed and made disappointed just by existing, having a loud month, way too broad of a mind. Then find comfort in a place people don’t want to ever go into.

The utopia of a mind that broke down and rebuilt. The fragments will one day unfold a beautiful masterpiece. Even if I’m the only one to ever see it.

[elsjanehoppers]

[ jessie mei li | non-binary | she/they | twenty-one ] —— it’s just another typical week in hawkins i guess — isn’t that right, jane “eleven” hopper? huh, guess they can’t hear me over angel by madonna playing on their walkman, but it looks like they’re unemployed. did you know el has been in hawkins for almost her whole life, minus a few months? yeah, they’ve been described as a bit cautious, but i suppose them also being protective outweighs the negative. i’ve also heard people say they remind them of an oversized benny’s t-shirt that looks like its going to swallow you whole, singing to the radio while dancing around the room and looking at teen magazines, freshly made eggos drizzled with syrup… however, that could just be this weeks newest rumor.

                                        the basics //

BIRTH NAME :  Jane Hopper. ALIAS  /  NICKNAME :  Eleven, El. AGE :  21. DATE  OF  BIRTH : November 1, 1965. PLACE OF BIRTH : Hawkins, Indiana. RESIDENCE :  Hawkins, Indiana. EDUCATION : None, has a forged GED. OCCUPATION :  Unemployed. GENDER : Non-binary. SEXUALITY :  Unsure. FACECLAIM :  Jessie Mei Li.

HAIR COLOR : Dark brown. HAIR STYLE : Medium length, straight or pulled back. EYE  COLOR :  Brown. HEIGHT : 5′3″. SCENT :  Floral. SCARS :  A line on their left ankle from trying to get part of the Mindflayer out of them. TATTOOS :  011 on their left wrist. PIERCINGS :  None. CLOTHING :  Flannel shirts, colorful outfits, scrunchy, jeans, converse.

ZODIAC : Scorpio. MBTI : ISFP. ALIGNMENT : Chaotic Neutral. HOGWARTS HOUSE : Gryffindor. ELEMENT : Water.   LOVE LANGUAGE : Quality time, words of affirmation, and receiving gifts.

STRENGTHS : telekinesis, levitation, portal manipulation, biokinesis, resurrection, esp, remote viewing, telepathy, mind walking, memory reading, psychometry, technopathy, stealthy, morse code, fighting, intellect, those they care about. WEAKNESSES :  Crowds, those they care about, overexertion. PHYSICAL AILMENTS :  None. ALLERGIES : Bees. SLEEPING HABITS :  Light sleeper. SOCIABILITY : Socially awkward, shy. POSITIVE  TRAITS :  Protective, kind, inquisitive, caring, big hearted, curious, resourceful, courageous, loyal, independent. NEGATIVE TRAITS : Cautious, stubborn, impulsive, easily jealous, self-sacrificing, easily angered, over emotional. FEARS :  Losing those they love, the Upside Down, someone taking them away, being imprisoned. HOBBIES :  Comic book reading, listening to music, watching TV, drawing, practicing their powers. MOST VALUED POSSESSION : The hair tie Hopper gave them, her walkie-talkie, anything her friends have given her.

ADDICTIONS :  Eggos. DRUG  USE :  None. ALCOHOL USE :  None. FAVORITE FOOD : Eggos. FAVORITE DRINK : Strawberry milkshakes, coffee with 3 cream and 6 sugars. FAVORITE MOVIE : Sixteen Candles. FAVORITE SHOW : Miami Vice. FAVORITE SONG : Angel by Madonna. FAVORITE COLOR : Any that remind them of spring flowers. FAVORITE FLOWER : Tulips, lilies, daisies. FAVORITE SEASON : Spring. FAVORITE WEATHER : Sunny.

FATHER :  Unknown (biological), Jim Hopper (adoptive). MOTHER : Terry Ives (biological), Joyce Byers (adoptive). SIBLINGS :  Jonathan & Will Byers (adoptive). PARTNERS : Mike Wheeler (ex). CHILDREN :  None.

INSPIRATIONS :  Stargirl Caraway (Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli), Alina Starkov (Shadow & Bone), Matilda Wormwood (Matilda), Carrie White (Carrie), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter).

                                      bio //

Eleven was born on November 1st to Terry Ives, but she never knew their mother as Dr. Brenner took her upon her birth. Hell, she didn’t even know what day their birthday or who her mother was really until they were 19. It wasn’t stuff they did at the lab. Anything that made them individuals got pushed out so they could be pushed to be the best and then even better than that. The strength of their powers were the only thing allowed to make them different than the others. Special.

With her memories back, El knows more about their time at the lab than they did when she first met the party. She remembers the others like 002 bullying her and them finding a friend in 001 (who she didn’t know was 001 at the time). They remember sending him to the upside down and the change that happened after. How frightened she was on the things they did and now being the only one left, how she was pushed more and more to do whatever Papa wanted them to do.

Finally, though, she escaped. They got out of the lab and upon their first time out, she found comfort from a man named Benny, only for him to be ripped from her quick. Hiding in the woods and trying to find somewhere to go in the darkness and rain, they were found by Mike, Dustin, and Lucas trying to find their friend Will and her life was forever changed.

Hiding at Mike’s house had their experiencing a mix of emotions. They were happy to be free and seemingly in a safe location. They were scared that she would be found and have to go back. And she was worried that she was putting their new friends in danger. All of it deemed to be true as they wanted to go to the lab and they were spotted by Papa’s men and had to run here and there and their using their  powers more and more while she helped locate Will. And to save her friends, they used her power to get rid of the monster ( Demogorgon, Mike called it that ) and ended up in the Upside Down themselves.

Getting out of the Upside Down was easy. There was still a little gate open and the scared Eleven went to Mike’s home only to find the cops were there. It was too dangerous and so they took to the woods and started fighting for survival. That is until Hopper found them and brought her to this old cabin in the woods. Together, they fixed it up and it was nice. However as the days passed, they was getting more and more impatient to let Mike know they were alive. That she was there in the world and she was growing tired and defiant of Hopper constantly trying to make them safe. She understood to a point, but they felt imprisoned again and all she craved was that freedom.

So, one day when he was out, they left the cabin like she wasn’t supposed to do. They saw a woman that pointed her in the direction of where Mike would be and there she saw him talking to a girl ( who was this? did he not care as much as he once did? ). This upset El and they went home to find an upset Hopper. The two fought and she used their powers against him out of anger and cried themselves to sleep while being locked in their room.

The next day when she was cleaning up their mess while Hopper was gone, they ended up finding information on her mama and ended up finding her in their head. They backed a bag and hitchhiked to their mother’s house. However, finding her wasn’t what they expected. Mama wasn’t able to communicate well and she talked with her aunt and discovered bits of what happened before she went to communicate with Mama herself through their powers. Mama showed them in flashes different parts of what happened. She talked to her aunt and talked about the girl she saw there and ended up going and finding Kali. They left her aunts after stealing some money and went out to find her sister.

The time with Kali was different than anything they knew. Her sister, like themselves, had a group she could trust with their powers and she saw they were doing what they thought was right. They ended up learning more about her powers and how to get them to be stronger ( now it reminded her of when 001 did it ) and while they went out to take care of the man that hurt Mama, she felt this wasn’t the life they wanted. She didn’t want to hurt this man and they felt like being with Kali was like being with Papa all over again. So, as the cops entered the scene, she left and went back home.

Going back home, they discovered that things hadn’t been easy there. The Mind Flayer had control of Will and they needed to stop it. She needed to close the gate. So with a short lived reunion with the people she loved and meeting this new girl ( Max, her name is Max ), they left to the lab and worked their powers to the extreme to close the gate and it worked. 

The aftermath was the lab closing for good and she was now officially adopted by Hopper. They waere still in hiding from anyone who would want to get them or their powers, but she had more freedom and she got to see their friends. She got to see Mike. There was a lot of time just spent with them. Talking and laughing. He’d show them music and introduce her to so much. They were happy. Really, really happy.

The summer came and things started changing. Mike was lying to them and she went to Max to talk. They got close quick and after playing a game, they discovered something was going on with Max’s stepbrother, Billy. Trying to figure out what, with the rest of the party, they discovered the Mind Flayer now had him and was adding more to his collection. They tried helping Billy escape, but nothing worked and while the physical form of the Mind Flayer was defeated, lives were still lost (including Hopper) and El was left powerless.

After what felt like funeral upon funeral, El and the Byers, now being under Joyce’s care, moved to California to get away from the tragedies they experienced in Hawkins. El was sad to be leaving Mike and their friends, but part of her looked forward to seeing more of the world. However, things weren’t as great as they seemed. They missed their friends in Hawkins terribly and she had started taking some classes and this woman named Angela bullied them. She started lying in her letters to Mike saying how great California was. This leading up to Mike coming to see her and her still trying to pretend things were okay up until they ran into Angela and she changed all that.

After attacking Angela for her bullying them and embarrassing them in front of Mike, she got arrested and was on her way to a jail when Owens intervened. They instead went to a facility in the Nevada desert and there, discovered Papa was alive. Through multiple tasks and going through old memories that was suppressed and thinking she hurt all the ones like them, she ended up coming out with the truth and with her power back.

As the government tried getting them, she escaped through the use of her powers and in the process, their papa was dead and they were saved by Mike, Will, Jonathan, and Argyle. Telling them, their friends were in danger, they moved to try to get to Hawkins, but they couldn’t get there in time. That’s when they tried intervening to save Max, however, 001 ( they call him Vecna ) took someone else. She was able to still get in there and distract him long enough for their friends to defeat him. However, after going back to Hawkins, she found that it wasn’t soon enough as the town was destroyed.

Moving back to Hawkins was more of a change than they thought. Happy to have Hopper back, the family lived together and eventually, her and Mike decided to break up. For them, it was the need to protect him from all this. While there was peace, she worried every day something was going to happen and she started doing some training on her own to keep her powers strong so she would be ready if anything happened.

Slowly, they noticed things happening. It started with the missing boy that ended up being found and now with this tornado and the bats, El knows something is starting and they’re scared they’re not ready for it.

                                          headcanons //

While they are happy she escaped the lab, some days she regrets it because they feels they have put the lives of everyone she loves so much at risk and that is the last thing they ever wanted to do.

They are working on strengthening their powers every day, sometimes in secret. She wants to be prepared for whatever is coming next and wants to make sure they are at full strength. She’ll spend hours a day focusing on one part of her powers, though its mostly the telekinesis as they have become cautious of her ESP abilities and them possibly opening another gate if she’s not careful.

They’re working slightly to discover who she is and what they like and dislike. She’s open to all new things and wants to try everything at least once ( try before you deny ).

They don’t have a job since she doesn’t have much skills and is still learning new things, even though Owens got her a forged diploma to make it look like they had an education.

Things they do like: coffee with 6 sugars ( you can’t even taste of coffee, Hopper says ) and 3 creams. eggos, of course (preferably with whipped cream and some candy). strawberry milkshakes. comic books. listening to all kinds of music. watching tv with hopper. watching movies (her favorite is sixteen candles). learning new things. pineapple on pizza.

Things they don’t like: coke (reminds her of the lab). chocolate milkshakes (reminds her of angela). the movie carrie (reminds her too much of herself).

[thetonethetollandthethunder]

(2/2) This is when the fic that this is a spinoff that i'm currently re-writing starts to come it, that being the ninth commandment (PLEASE DON'T READ THE ORIGINAL DRAFT TONE. I WILL LITERALLY BLOCK YOU, IT IS SO BAD. The ninth commandment re-write is up on ao3 though). Faraday turns his first corner and tubman fawns over him like a mother does, embarrassing him in a way only mothers can. Faraday ends up venting about a crush to her, and she's all like

because this is her son!!!! who has stolen his heart?? Once the next conclave comes around, she sees him staring at and blushing at and smiling at Curie and can pretty much immediately tell that he was talking about Curie in his calls. She finds it very cute that he’s got a crush on her. Clarkson continues being awful. Eventually the high blade self gleans and everyone convinces tubs to run for high blade (including clarkson who would just love to have more power!) and she ends up winning the election, but this just fuels her fear towards clarkson, as now she could be risking her position as high blade if people find out about her commandment breaking, now and previous, via clarkson, if she gets mad at tubs. When she picks her underscythes, clarkson of course wants a piece of that pie and tubman is like "you know what? I'm tired of you manipulating and using me for your own personal gain, and i'm tired of your emotional blackmail." and she dumps her. Clarkson is too much of a coward to actually do anything in retaliation, so that ended surprisingly well.

The stress starts piling on Tubs, and she suddenly becomes obsessed with befriending curie, wanting someone to fill the void of Clarkson, even platonically. This is obviously not healthy. So, the ninth commandment is actually a curaday fic, and while tubman is doing tubman things, curie and faraday have been having a huge secret relationship, and curie ends up getting pregnant. Tubman gets told this by multiple people reporting it to her, but ignores it, not wanting to put Curie in harm's way. Eventually it goes to the global level, though, and when the media gets their grubby hands on the story of Curie's pregnancy and it's leaked that faraday is the father, tubman begins to feel physically sick. Both her obsession and her son (basically) are in danger, and there's nothing she can do about it. During the trial, she pleads with the founding scythes to spare them, to not bring harm to them or their unborn baby. The pregnancy is terminated under order of the scythedom, and curie and faraday die their seven deaths. Tubman goes to visit Faraday once he’s back home. He’s still very upset, and Tubman does his best to comfort him. He’s still very upset, and just wants to be left alone; he wants Curie and his baby. No one else.

They just talk for a while, Tubman comforting him, but Faraday says something about how she’ll never understand. But, then, Tubman, for the first time, Tubman tells someone about her relationship with Eloise, the first time she’s admitted to someone that they weren’t just roommates (other than clarkson). She talks about how much she loved both of them, and how she lost both of them. (She also mentions Clarkson.) The two just mourn their losses together, realizing that no matter how hard life is, they’ll always have each other. We skip like 70 years, and, for the first time in years, Faraday and Curie are allowed to see each other again. Tubman is helping Faraday prepare for the big day, and advising him on how not to get overly attached to Curie again, which he finds embarrassing, so she cuts it out. Faraday admits to Tubman that he’s still in love with Curie, and Tubman tells him that she’s still in love with Eloise, and that he’ll probably never get over his feelings for her with all they’ve been through, but that he needs to just remain friends with her. She leaves Faraday and Curie to reintroduce themselves, as she assumes it’s a very special and private moment for them. But Faraday is happy, and that means she’s happy. 

And that's probably where i'll end the story! maybe a journal entry of her saying her farewells before she self gleans because obviously she's not the high blade in the actual series?

anyways that was LONG. sorry for all that lol. You told me i could <3

Well now I WANT to read the original /j

BUT AAAA THIS IS SO GOOD MAN!!!!! I LOVE IT!!!

I read the fic you sent me in the other ask and it’s rlly interesting!! I can’t wait to read more!!!

[demonsfate]

For meme: #2, 4, 6, 8, and 10!

weirdly specific questions // accepting . . .

2. How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

I want to say that it would feel like Jin would be strict, considering everything he's been through. But honestly? Really thinking about it... I don't think Jin's actually all that strict. In fact, if you're nice and well meaning, he probably considers you a friend. The first time he actually met Zafina was when she was "dying", and he still considers her a friend lmao.

Devil used to be very strict, as he virtually considered nobody his friend. The closest thing to a friend he had was Jin, and even though he did genuinely liked Jin, he still often used the word "friend" for him in more of a manipulative context rather than a genuine one. But now? Devil is trying to learn to love, therefore anyone who wants to be his friend is his friend.

4. What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Jin used to draw a lot as a kid/teenager, but it's something he stopped doing after his mother "died." Although, I can't say he missed it too much, as now his life has finally slowed down, he'll probably go back to it again!

Devil never really had many hobbies. Although he no longer feels the desire to, he shamefully misses the taste of human flesh lol! He may not admit that, though...

6. What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

Good question! Jin actually isn't afraid to talk about his interests or things he likes. In fact, he's usually quick to suggest things. (He may have a problem with thinking his taste is unmatched LOL). Although whilst living with them, Jin has taken quite a liking to the shampoo and hair products that Lee uses... he's yet to recommend them to anyone else...! And he may not because hoo boy they're pricey!

Devil doesn't really have anything right now... he's still discovering what he likes, and what he DOES know he likes, trust me... he's obnoxious to always recommend it to people. He used to try to convince Jin to eat human lol.

8. How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’?

Both of them are a bit stricter on this than they are with the word "friend." Especially because I think it's Japanese culture to sparingly use the words "I love you." I don't think they're ever used for friends, and are reserved for people they are romantically into. Jin may use it if a friend tells him they love him (he may say something like "uh, yeah, love you too.") but he will never say it first. Not even to his closest friends. Love Yous are only reserved for his lover, and his mom LOL.

Devil is a cultural mess. (Japanese host, Hebrew name, European-like armor, Egyptian creator) and Devil is also less likely to adhere to cultural upbringings, anyway. So Devil is probably more likely to say "I love you," especially if he's feeling particularly emotional around someone. But... it has to also be someone he's really close with. Devil used to be a creature of pure hatred, even though that hatred has been taken away, he's still not the most loving person. Therefore, he's not likely to say "I love you" to just anyone. It has to be someone he has, no doubts, that he loves dearly.

10. What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

Any animal fact for Jin. If he's with somebody, and they spot an animal, Jin will tell them a fact (or several facts) about that animal. He grew up with a mother that loved animals and would tell him all about them, so... it kinda juts rubbed off on Jin. He'll even tell the less appealing facts, too. Such as vultures will pee on themselves to cool down, or that many Koalas have chlamydia, and some populations even have a 100% infection rate.

As for Devil... probs facts about devils! That is, when he's around somebody he can be himself. After all! He doesn't actually go out in public as a devil. Whilst Jin gives him time to control the body, there's still a catch. Which is... Devil can't go out in public often, if at all. If there's a time when Devil happens to be in public, he'll take away all the devil parts to the point where he looks identical to Jin. BUT ANYWAY - if he's around a friend or anybody that's aware he's a devil, he'll share facts about them or his powers. He really likes showing off his powers!

[asassydork]

Chapter 3: Busted

Story: High Water

Word Count: 3.0k

Summary: Unable to mind his business, Bastian seeks a serious conversation that doesn’t go well. How could it?

TW: MDNI, 18+, relationship problems, adult language and themes, it’s coming along, gaslighting, manipulation, toxic masculinity, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, rumor mill,

By the time I made it back to the shack, the kids had already made their own dinner of fish, vegetables and a wild boar I didn’t know they caught. But we weren’t alone. I felt him follow me out of the compound. He has too much of a demanding presence to be invisible behind me. He’d deal with me on his terms when we were alone and in the meantime, he’d pretend to cater to this imaginary role he’s ascribed to himself. He thinks of himself as my protector, when he hadn’t been the one who saved me. He also wasn’t going to save me from what was coming because it had already come. He didn’t stop them from snagging me in the woods. Didn’t come for me like he could’ve. Left me to die. He couldn’t get swallowed up in a war with the Monkeys. He couldn’t risk becoming a captive. So, the others had to be meticulous about rescuing me and honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out it was nothing more than a trap in the first place. That I was only released to scurry home so they could continue to do the awful things they weren’t going to stop doing.

Bastian sat silently at my side as we ate in the dark around our own little fire. Bastian wasn’t the quiet type, usually asking the kids various questions in that curious and nosy way his mother likes asking people questions. But he normally means well. Although, he’s not someone I’ve trusted serious secrets with. I haven’t trusted him very much in all of this, because his position makes that information valuable. You never know when he’s going to use it against us. But silence at dinner was new. We fight, sure. But it never led him to biting his tongue. Half the time, we throw hands at each other and get into a screaming match. He tells me how much he loves me and we pretend that the issue is dealt with. It normally never is. He doesn’t see me for who I am or what I am capable of. He only sees what he wants to see and I can’t teach him to see past it. I can’t teach him to see me. I’ve tried. A lot. Too much, really. It’s not an easy life out here but it shouldn’t ever be this hard.

He doesn’t wrap an arm around me or brush his leg against mine. There’s no possessiveness in his actions. He also doesn’t really hold anyone’s eye contact and it really just made dinner more awkward than it needed to be. I tried to engage in conversation but the kids didn’t like the vibes and I couldn’t blame them. He was lucky they didn’t release frogs or snakes on him which they’ve been known to do which was why they gave me a bucket of them. They knew what I was planning for and they weren’t going to ask questions. But Bastian wasn’t the one I was after. He should consider himself lucky in that sense because he wasn’t going to survive it. He’d die of shame alone. Bastian wasn’t built for life in the wild. He wasn’t built to live off of the land like the rest of us. His skills were more limited and militaristic. He could protect himself but he couldn’t properly scavenge or harvest off the land to survive. He’d eat a poisonous plant if he was left to his own devices or fall into some trap he couldn’t get himself out of. That’s why he was so pretty looking with a bubbly personality. His skills were people based because he’s supposed to remain royalty until his death. He gets to reap the rewards of everyone below him without contributing all that much. It was part of why I hate him. You’d think someone like that wants more out of their life, to acquire as many skills as there are to learn. But learning wasn’t something he was fond of, as can be seen.

I didn’t know why he wasted his attempt to meld whatever the problem between us was. He wasn’t affectionate in any of his usual ways, which made me wonder if he’d only come out here to tell me he was finally over waiting for me. I wondered what sort of threats were attached to it or if he thought he’d just get laid one last time before discarding me like waste.

I ate more than I normally eat to avoid being left speaking to him. I wasn’t in the mood for an argument tonight. I also wasn’t looking forward to having any guests. I had plotting and planning to do. I have vengeance burning like crimson and mercury in my mouth. I needed to be prepared for a war that was coming to my door, directly to me. No one could protect me from it. I knew that in my bones. The kids would die if they tried to intervene and it wasn’t worth losing them. They deserved so much more than that. More than either of us.

“Look,” Bastian says, having followed me into the shack after the kids dispersed to go home. He closed the door behind him and sighed loudly. “I don’t wanna fight. I don’t wanna argue. I didn’t come out here to stretch the issue.” He reluctantly moves from the door to find me putting the jars of tree sap on my desk. He picked them up like I was making homemade bombs. They could’ve been Molotovs but I had bigger plans for it. The basket of kindling didn’t help me.

“Stop touching things,” I complain, moving them away from him and pushing him away from the desk. “You don’t wanna stretch the issue. As if we have an issue? I don’t have an issue with you, Bas.” I groan softly, letting the air out of my nose. “Whatever this is about, I really don’t wanna deal with it tonight. I've had enough eventful bullshit today.”

“Who is he?” He asks, moving through my space like he belongs here. But he doesn’t. I don’t even let him keep a drawer of clothes in my space because he’s not my end goal. He’s not what becomes of me.

“Who is he?” I couldn’t avoid the question. It made me scoff and unlace my boots from the edge of my bed. My one luxury that took me a long time to finalize and pull together. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” It wasn’t going to be the whole truth. I knew better than giving that card away.

He scoffs as he continues moving through the shack like he was looking for hints about this sudden other man that appeared, as if I’d manage to survive keeping that kind of secret out here. It made it very clear to me at that moment that I probably wouldn’t survive secrecy. They’d find my prisoner and they’d have too many questions and they’d really expel me. They’d leave me with no choice but to flee and they might not even grant me the death I was seeking. It was unthinkable to imagine losing such an opportunity.

“I know who he is,” Bastian says, dismissively like it wasn’t worth arguing about. It was such a flip from where he started. “They call him Torque. But that’s not really his name. I think it’s something like Rick.” He turned to look at me with this serious expression on his face, no more hiding his anger. “He talked about you on the road. I didn’t talk to him much. He’s got this attitude about him I don’t like. But I heard him talking about you. Intimately. Some twisted history none of us were supposed to know about.” He grit his teeth to bite back the harsh words that were likely supposed to accompany that outburst. But he didn’t raise his voice at me. There was no shouting fit. No yelling. Just anger. Contained anger. Improvement from the Bastian I was used to. Who’d have thought a little competition would’ve gotten us here?

“Well,” I begin, dropping my boots loudly onto the floor and peeling off my socks, “I have never met this sad fuck. And I had no intention of any of what happened today. It’s clear to me that he knew whatever fabrication he came up with spoke to you.” I peel out of my hoodie slowly, making sure the shirt underneath doesn’t come off. “Does it really look like I’ve been with anyone else? Really? You pick up some stranger on the road and you’re just going to believe him?” I shake my head as I toss my hoodie into the pile of dirty clothes at the end of my bed. I never agreed to be a clean freak and he surprisingly doesn’t bother me about one pile of dirty clothes that doesn’t sit on the floor for very long.

“No,” he says, exasperated. “I wasn’t just going to believe him. He’s never been here. He doesn’t know anything about this place. But he knows a fuck ton about you.” He punched one of the central pillars holding the shack up. It’s a huge log that hurt his hand more than anything. “He knows about the scar on the back of your right thigh from that accident with the tree. He knows about the birthmark under your left breast. He knows about the way you wear your hair when you’re angry and how it’s different when you’re trying to concentrate. He had stories about the kinds of books you like to read. He knew about the songs you sing to help yourself sleep. Songs that you only sing to yourself when you’re upset or scared.” There’s a pause that’s heavier than any of the things he said. It was like a truck of bricks being dropped on me one at a time as he held the pause for a longer time than I anticipated. “Why does he know that? How does he know that?” He trailed off and was suddenly sitting on the side of the bed next to me, unlacing his boots like I wasn’t going to be able to get rid of him. “He knew exactly what kinds of songs they were. Sung them for an audience, actually, like he wanted validation.” He brushed his hand over the back of my neck slowly but held me firmly like he knew that this was heavy and terrifying.

I have nothing I can say. Nothing to say. The silence is heavy for a long minute. “I-I don’t know.” I shrug and fidget under his hand as he squeezed the back of my neck a little too tightly like he forgot his own strength again. “I have no idea what he knows or how or why. I’m telling you, I really don’t know this person.” But I did. I knew exactly where he was gathering his information and how he’d gone about it. I was his favorite pet for months on end. It didn’t surprise me that he managed to watch me in that dark place they kept me. It didn’t surprise me I was a test subject and something to study.

“There has to be some way he got this information.” But he doesn’t press it. Just leans his head against the side of mine in a weird embrace that I wasn’t fond of.

“I wanna be alone tonight,” I say, pulling his fingers off the back of my neck. “I have some things to think through.”

“I don’t trust leaving you out here alone.” He kissed my temple for a long minute. “I’m sorry I’m so quick to anger. But you have to understand what this looks like.” He nuzzled his nose against my neck, pleading with me to forgive him.

“I’m serious, Bas. Not tonight. And I’m not alone out here and you know that. I know better.” I stood up carefully, needing to put space between us because he was going to start trying to seduce me and then I’d be stuck with a bed buddy and he might find a reason to stay. I didn’t want to give him one.

“Listen,” he says, raising his voice a little bit like I was just making him angry again. “It’s not safe out here. Never was. Never will be. You need better security and you need to come inside the walls. I can’t lose you again.” He stood up to cross to me without his boots. Choosing to put up a protest rather than giving me the space I needed right now. It was more proof as to why it would never work between us.

“Get your boots,” I warn firmly, knowing that he’s not going to change my mind with sad eyes and pleading. “If you wanna fight, you do it tomorrow in the daylight. I don’t have the energy for all of this tonight. I really don’t appreciate the accusations coming out of you that I’d have invited strangers out here to make themselves at home. If I have you, then I don’t need anybody else. We made that agreement a long time ago. Although, if you really wanna go there, you need to take accountability for Brittany, Tiff, Hannah and Marsalis to start with. Not to mention the girl in Brown Water. I have never once said anything about them. Never brought it up. Didn’t want to. But you’re standing here accusing me of impossible things and you don’t want to believe me. How can you honestly expect us to have a future when we don’t even trust each other? Huh? You’re always going to jump to these extreme conclusions, aren’t you? The next time anybody says anything remotely true about me, you’re just going to believe them over the clear facts. How safe is that for me? What kind of life is that? What kind of life is this?” I opened the back door and waited for him to leave.

He reluctantly grabbed his boots, a deep scowl on his face as he carried them out the door. “I’m not done with this. I hate when you pull the rug out from under me. Why can’t you just fight like a normal woman?”

“I’m too fucking smart,” I growl, “And I let you get away with too much. I let you continue to mistreat me. To gaslight me and manipulate me. As if I’m not going through some really rough shit. Shit you can’t even begin to imagine. You won’t. You don’t even want me talking about it. What kind of relationship is that? Huh? What kind of protector are you?” I had to refrain from raising my voice.

Eli and Nate were standing in the shadows down the back steps, drawn away from the fire because of the commotion. They’re the oldest of the boys, in their twenties now but still children to me. Boys. They’d make sure Bas went about his way and didn’t turn back around. That was the security I earned myself, especially lately. Others would be up all night checking in to make sure I was okay between keeping the cabin safe and keeping me from a fit of nightmares that have a way of waking me with screams. They’re getting better but they might never truly go away, even if I regain the sense of control I lost.

Bas doesn’t say anything in front of them. He knows better than to taint his reputation any further than he already has. He didn’t need me for that. He really didn’t need me for most things when it came to ruining his own life and reputation. He’d probably do better without me, though. I tend to get tied up in things I’ve got nothing to actually do with, like these stories that don’t have much merit to them. But he’s not going to take my word over that of a stranger. A lying, manipulating, conniving stranger. A monster in disguise. That told me they weren’t going to quarantine him for long. They weren’t skeptical of him like they should’ve been. He played a friendly character to fit in with the group during their trip. He knew exactly what he was doing and how to do it.

“If you see that fucker from earlier, you whistle,” I whisper to Eli before the two follow after a disgruntled Bas.

Eli simply nods before the two disappear into the shadows of the trees. This place gets eerie at night. I locked the doors, started a small fire in the fireplace and changed into more comfortable clothes to sleep in. I’d go down to the river to bathe tomorrow. If I’m not stuck here with my captive. It made me finesse some of the setup to keep from having to worry about it later. The plan was coming together on its own. An instinct I didn’t know I had. It unfortunately also made me realize how much me and the One-Eyed Captain seemed to have in common. A kink for pain. A darkness within us few will ever get to see. Something that can’t be tamed or ignored. It won’t go away and it can’t be stifled. The shack was a good place to hold a captive because few people come out here and the kids wouldn’t rat on me. They knew better. I was like a sister and a mother to them at the same time. A guardian. They’d trust me to do the right thing, always. Even if it was untraditional and didn’t initially make sense. It wasn’t like he was one of us. He was an outsider, an enemy and I might just bathe in his blood to prove a point. I gave the fire enough to burn throughout the night, to keep this place warm. I slid into bed with a knife under my pillow and laid there for a long time before sleep finally came for me. It wasn’t the usual kind of sleep. It was the anxious kind that said something was coming so I couldn’t drift off very far. But it was better this way than waking up with nightmares.

[death-stranded]

i completed my second ever playthrough of the last of us part 2 & tbh i’m still struggling to decide if i think it’s a good game or not.

after i played it when it first came out i was left mainly disappointed because it was so far away from my expectations. this time i’m struggling with a lot of conflicting thoughts & feelings.

i really want to love it & i can get onboard with the story they’re trying to tell but i think the writing just isn’t competent enough to execute the concept fully. ellie has been done extremely dirty by the writing, i don’t think they’ve managed to give her enough to be a compelling character on this particular journey.

as much as i think for the game’s sake it would have been better to end in seattle - i’ve come around to the idea of the final act where ellie is unable to rest & feels like she needs to end things with abby. (the santa barbara section is atrociously grim & i think needed to be redesigned entirely but anyway.)

as someone who has suffered most of my adult life coping with bpd & ptsd, i’ve plenty of experience with self-destruction & downward spirals, so i get what they’re trying to do here. but for the end of ellie’s story it just feels especially cruel.

if a third game is coming (also assuming it might even feature ellie) & we get a ‘true’ ending for her, then i think i could appreciate this game so much more for what it is. at the moment i’m not sure where i sit on whether this is a well-crafted effective game, or a clumsy attempt at manipulating the player’s emotions.

i still think abby’s section is fucking fantastic though. i think those chapters alone are a gaming masterpiece - the only issue is that it’s a 10+ hour experience right off the back of a major story cliffhanger, so on a first play you’re more interested in rushing through it to get to the conclusion, meanwhile most of her story is completely unrelated to what’s happening with ellie. i find abby’s character a lot more interesting than what they did with ellie, i’d hope to see her potentially return in a third game too.