#please please please let one of my shows actually be renewed i'm begging

[infinityinakiss]

hello, dead boy detective fandom! i know we're all rewatching the show to help it get renewed and i just wanted to send out some reminders so your time isn't wasted:

remember that when netflix is counting your views, it counts every rewatch as less and less (if that makes sense). this is overly simplified, but its like the first watch counts as 1, the second as 0.5, the third as 0.25 and so on. this means that no matter how many times you rewatch it, the best thing is to get other people to watch it once or twice. your rewatches still matter, but spreading the word is really going to help. pester your friends incessantly, i promise you they'll cave.

when rewatching, make sure to have your volume on. it can be very quiet, but it still has to be on. netflix won't count your views if the volume isn't on.

if you're watching on a computer, don't be on another tab while its playing. shrink it down and have it play in the corner of the screen.

do not skip around to your favorite parts, make sure to watch the whole episode all the way through, until netflix automatically plays the next episode. you do not need to see the credits.

make noise on other social media platforms. i know, this show is a tumblrina's fantasy, but most services don't pay much attention to what goes on around here. make sure to go on instagram, tiktok, youtube, and any other platforms where netflix promoted the show. you can make your own posts, or you can like, comment, and share other people's posts, especially netflix's posts.

i have gained this information by being part of other campaigns, and people much smarter than me are the ones who figured all this out, so if you have specific questions, i might not have the answer. check out my pinned post for general tips on rewatching shows.

[reggieblk]

I want to hear about the cokewhore Tom AU! <3

aaaah thank you for asking !! <3

Cokewhore Tom is ... very dear to me. It's a collective work with @cindle-writes and @pinktom, as well as another friend who prefers to remain anonymous iirc (feel free to put anything you want about the fic in the reblogs btw). It has 5 parts, and should sit somewhere from 30-40k, and I need to finish it 😭 I actually don't know if I'm allowed to talk about this fic, I didn't run it by Cindle or Amelinda before including it in the tag game jdsbbd BUT you can have a snippet from part 1 which I wrote :

“Harry! It’s me!” The sound of someone talking on the other side of the door sent a renewed wave of dread throughout his body, but when, a second later, he recognised the voice, he deflated, irritation flaring through him. He marched over to the door and yanked it open, revealing a shivering, pale, thinly clad, Tom Riddle.  “Tom,” Harry said, his annoyance clear in his voice, “what the fuck is wrong with you? Do you want my neighbours to call the police?” “I don’t give a shit about that,” Tom snapped, teeth grinding as he scratched at his arm. “Go away,” Harry whispered, looking around at his neighbours’ doors compulsively. “Get the fuck away from my apartment.” “Please,” Tom said, reaching out to hold onto Harry’s sleeve, “please just—” “No,” Harry snapped. They’d gone over this all week—though this was the first time Tom had had the audacity to show up to his flat instead of harassing him over the phone.  “Please, I need it,” he begged, a pathetic quality to his voice. His eyes had dark smudges under them, purple verging on black, and his cheeks were hollowed out.  “Get in,” Harry hissed, unwilling to let this spectacle play out in the open hallway of his apartment complex. He grabbed Tom’s arm and dragged him into the flat, slamming the door behind them and locking it for good measure.  “I’ll get the money,” Tom said, and he was already pacing, hands in his hair in his distress. He kept clicking his teeth together, as if his jaw ached, and his shoulders were bunched up.  Harry sighed as he watched him, the anger dying down just a bit. “Tom, I thought you were going to try and get clean.” “I—I can’t,” he said hysterically. He tripped on a bottle on the floor, and almost fell but he caught himself on the sofa and sat down, legs jittering. Harry was glad he’d snatched the bag of coke up, or he was sure Tom would’ve snorted it all by then. He looked up, eyes wide and pleading. “Just one more time—” Harry hung his head— “I promise, one more time, just another two grams, please, then I’ll get clean. I’ll get you the money for the rest please, I just—” “Stop it, stop it,” Harry snapped, waving a hand in the air as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look at yourself, Tom. Look at you, you’re a fucking mess.” Tom was quiet for a moment, and when Harry looked down at him he had tears welling in his wide brown eyes. “Please,” he whispered.  “Tom, I’d like to help you out,” Harry said honestly, “but you’ve already lost me too much money. I’m sorry, really. But it’s no.” “I’ll pay you—” “We’ve already established that you can’t,” Harry said with a disbelieving laugh. “I’ll suck your cock,” Tom blurted out, and Harry’s blood ran cold before burning hot as he stared at him in disbelief. Tom’s cheeks were coated in red, humiliation so evident on his face and yet Harry could see that he meant it.

[helloliriels]

Sleepless in London (Pt.3)

“It was a million tiny little things, that…  

Somehow, just meant we fit together?

And I knew ... the very first time we touched.

Like finding a missing puzzle piece, you didn't know you had lost ..."

John's voice drifted over the radio, barely having started to talk when the announcer cut in, and the host came back on:

“ … this is Dr. Irene Adler and we’ll be right back with John and Rosie, but for now, let’s open up the lines and take your calls …”

“Molly, is it absolutely necessary to have this drivel on?”

“It’s not drivel, Sherlock,” Molly defended, “It’s romantic!”

The pathologist was currently humming along with the ads playing on the radio, while dissecting a human brain; As Sherlock himself leaned in to check his samples more closely, from the workbench opposite. He closed his eyes in an attempt to focus, as the noise continued … 

He had been careful to maintain his distance from the overly friendly and clearly unobservant resident of St. Bart’s for fear she would misinterpret any action on his part. And now she was playing a romantic talk show? Please.

.

“The romanticism on this show is entirely manufactured, Molly. While the highly exploitative nature of how she handles her callers is frankly, embarrassing,” he drolled, "if, by romantic - you meant to say humiliating and degrading ... then yes. This show is romantic.”

“So - what do you do for fun, then?” Molly asked, a cheery attempt to get him talking more … now that he had made the mistake of starting …

“Though we were having fun?” Sherlock replied, shutting her down.

Molly went back to her work, glum.

.

“Yeah, I’d just like to know how to get this man’s number?” 

One woman was asking, right out the gate.

.

Sherlock snorted.

Molly glanced at him, and embarrassed, turned the program down a bit. The radio host was confirming that they would accept mail to the radio station, but would not give out any private data. She thanked the caller and accepted the next:

“John and Rosie, I just want to say, I'm here for you … !”

“Can we write to …?”

“How can I get in touch … ?”

“Umm, did he say how old he was?  Like - I’m embarrassed to ask - but he sounds dreamy and I just - don’t wanna be disappointed?”

.

“Early-forties,” Sherlock supplied to the room at large, then with a snark added under his breath, “and far above your pay grade, clearly.” 

The calls continued in this vein for a while … then they were re-playing the sensational bits of the program so far:

Rosie pleading,

“I think my daddy needs a new wife.”

John’s voice, responding,

“Why do you assume it has to be a woman?”

The Woman’s signature provocative style teasing,

“So we’re open to more choices then?”

Before cutting to another commercial break.

Sherlock could feel his eyes rolling back in his head, as he slammed his palm on the table. “MOLLY!” he begged. Pleaded. 

(Pt. 3 long post, actually continued below cut)

Part 2 | Part 1 | Movie Cover | Subscribe on AO3

Molly Hooper lifted her scalpel and paused. 

Meeting Sherlock’s glare with a kind, softened smile. “We’re the only ones here, Sherlock,” She reminded, returning to the task at hand with renewed zest, “the only two people in London bored enough, and lonely enough to be wasting our New Year’s Eve in a laboratory shared with dead bodies … ” 

“I know,” Sherlock replied, grinning, “wish Christmas had been this lively!”

Her smile fell as she looked away, “Don’t you think … ? Maybe you could learn something from Dr. Irene?” She added with a frustrated huff, “about human feelings?”

“Human?” Sherlock blinked, poking at the human remains he was in charge of. 

“Feelings?” She tried again.

They had already been there for four hours, and not only had Sherlock completely misunderstood her offer of coffee, he had also insulted her jumper, her lipstick and her hair care routine …  On second thought, she reached over and turned the radio program back UP.

Sherlock rumbled,

“If you’re hoping that by listening to ‘Your Feelings and You’, I’ll suddenly catch emotions like the common cold … then I regret to inform you, your efforts are entirely wasted.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Molly muttered under her breath.

But as she looked back at the gorgeous, curly haired detective - her breath caught still. He was prickly, and mean, and entirely too brilliant for his own good. But she had a feeling that two thirds of those traits were habits of self-defence … 

Her hand fell on the small sprig of mistletoe tucked away in her pocket from last week, and sighed. She hadn’t been brave enough to get it out then, and it seemed pointless now … She chucked it in the bin and turned a flustered eye back to her work … 

As the friendly doctor came back on the radio, and began to really converse about the woman he’d lost, and why he had loved her so very much … 

It all sounded so romantic, and adventurous … 

She even caught Sherlock listening in a few times, and crossed her fingers it was catching … despite his bluster and bluff.

“John … May I ask you one more thing?”

         The radio host interpreted his silence as consent and continued, “how did you meet your wife?”

John had felt the tension fading, as he opened up to the radio host, her ease of conversing ... not knowing or really caring how long they had been on the air for. It felt so good to talk about Mary in this light … without all the weight of responsibility that usually came with it. 

But with that personal reminder of their early memories ... it suddenly felt like she was prying. 

He wasn’t sure if it had been the generous holiday spirit affecting him, before? Or perhaps the three or four pints he’d consumed this evening … trying to forget it all … 

“Ooh, I don’t know if I can-!” John hedged, laughing. If only to shake the feeling off …

“Oh, you can -” Irene cooed, invitingly, “Please! I guarantee my listeners are hanging on your every word … “

“No, it’s … nothing like that -” John clarified, scratching at the back of his neck, “That is … I don’t mean to be rude-”

“-And I don’t want to pry!” Irene hastened to add.

“Yes you do.” John answered bluntly.

Sherlock felt himself responding out loud along with the grieving widower. 

He paused.

His hand on the pipette, cold glass against the table as he listened more intently … 

“It’s not a family friendly story …" John added, cautiously … looking down at his child, asleep in his arms ... “but seeing as Rosie is out for the count … and since everyone involved is now deceased …" he hummed, thinking on it further, "I'm not sure ... it may still be covered under the official secrets act …?” 

“Are we talking … government secrets?” Miss Adler gasped, scintillating at the chance of higher ratings, “John? Were you and your wife secret agents, like Mr. & Mrs. Smith?”

“Oh, god, no!” John chuckled, “I’m afraid that part … that was all Mary …”

He chuckled thinking about how they really had met … that day in Türkiye … 

The Ambassador's wife and her entourage, held captive in a bunker … John’s squad filing in, bandaging up the wounded and evacuating those that could be shifted to safer ground, after Mary had gone in and taken out the first real threats. How John had fired a shot and saved her life ... her meeting him bloodied and grinning to ... to receive treatment. Her hair the colour of spun gold. 

“No.” He reiterated, “I’m no 007. Just a doctor. A good marksman back in my military days, but those are all over now, due to the-”

“I know this was not easy for you, John,” Irene cut in, "and we are running short on time. But i just wanted to thank you for being so receptive and open."

Sherlock felt his frustration growing at not being able to hear the other side of the phone line … To know what the man - the doctor - the military trained, excellent marksman - with a million more stories to tell than this woman could possibly fathom! Had wanted to say … 

He wanted to climb through the phone and ask the rest of the questions himself … To know how John had been wounded and invalided out, ahead of his time ...? How he had ended up as a Doctor in London? And what he liked to do in his spare time … ?

It was an odd feeling … being curious about someone not tied to a case … 

“When did your wife pass?” The Woman’s voice interrupted his thoughts again. 

John’s reply took a moment … 

“About a year and a half ago,” he said at last, getting very quiet. 

Everything felt like it was tunnelling back in around him now … as John thought about the reality of the situation … alone, just as before … and his hand began to ache … 

He flexed it and switched the phone to his other ear to relieve the pressure on his shoulder.

“Have you had any relationships? Since then?” She prodded.

“ No .”

.

The answer was blunt. 

Rude. Intentionally.

.

Sherlock was hanging on every breath the doctor took … waiting … 

Feeling the heat rising in the back of his own throat … even as John fought the lump rising in his own … 

“Why not?” she asked them both (it seemed), softly.

“Irene … listen,” John began, “or should I call you Dr. Adler?”

“Dr. Irene, please,” The Woman suggested.

John and Sherlock both simultaneously rolled their eyes.

“We had a pretty tough time at first, I’ll admit that. But … we’re making do … I’m seeing a therapist - a real one -”

Sherlock smirked at the dig.

“And Rosie and I will get along fine … as soon as I break her radio.”

Dr. Irene laughed at that. Letting him go.

Sherlock could tell the man was done with the interview.

          But oddly … he wanted more … 

.

“I'm sure you're a wonderful father,” she wrapped up the conversation with a smile, “and even though we’ve only heard and not yet seen your faces … you can tell a lot from a voice.”

“You most certainly can,” John nodded, trying to ring off … 

“Just one more question - humour me, John-? Are you sleeping at night?” she asked. Leaving the words hanging in the air … 

            “He doesn't sleep at all,” little Rosie chimed in from out of nowhere.

“Hey! How do you know that?” John puzzled, looking at his adorably soft child, still rubbing her eyes from sleepiness.

“I live here, Daddy!” she scowled.

They both shared a smile and a giggle as John tickled her and tucked her in closer. Nearly forgetting they were still on the air … 

“Look, it’s New Years … I’m tired - I really should be getting her to bed,” he managed at last, “and Mary … my wife … I’ll always miss her. She really was … irreplaceable … “ he sighed, “... and it’s rough this time of year, innit? Maybe Rosie needs someone-? I hadn’t … really thought about that part of things, being wrapped up in my own grief … but I will take it to heart.”

“Do you think … maybe you need someone, too?” Dr. Irene supplied.

.

It was a rhetorical question,

        And they both knew it.

.

The ending music was now playing, as London’s heartbeat began to pulse again with a new day beginning. 

“Well … I’m Dr. Irene Adler,

       Signing off with ‘Sleepless in London’ …” 

John laughed at his newly christened moniker …

“-and John? Rosie? Will you call in again sometime, soon? And keep us posted on your progress? We’d love to hear from you.”

“We’ll be sure to do that.”

John hung up the phone, quietly. Careful not to disturb Rosie as she had drifted off again to slumberland … still nestled in the crook of his arm. 

He hefted her into a more comfortable carrying position, and shifted them both from the window seat to their respective bedrooms … 

          While Sherlock grabbed his coat and whisked out the door of the lab hurriedly …

               Past a stunned-to-silence, and suddenly enlightened Molly … (to be continued ...) Read Part 4

@johnlocky @fluffbyday-smutbynight @chinike @rhasima @chriscalledmesweetie @totallysilvergirl @masterofhounds @missdeliadili @whatnext2020 @safedistancefrombeingsmart @shelleysprometheus @7-percent @swissmissing @inevitably-johnlocked @storytellingdreamer @calaisreno @myriath @ileenhaddockhawkins @discordantwords @john-smiths-jawline @midgemao @raina-at @mxster-jocale @my-johnlockficrecs @anyway-kindness @mydogwatson @gregorovitchworld @kittenmadnessandtea @a-clithridiate-in-my-heart @meetinginsamarra @topsyturvy-turtely @t-dalo @tinchensblog @iwlyanmw @tiverrr @kettykika78 @xeniawatson @sherlockwatsons @janiesprings @copperplatebeech @peanitbear @peageetibbs @cupidford @daltongraham @amyreadsandstresses @pocketwatchofmycroft @kabubsmagga @holmesianlove @colourfulwatson @mrb488 @reveling-in-mayhem

[airenyah]

so i was tagged by @lurkingteapot to list my 9 favorite tv shows. i find it difficult to define "favorite" so i'm just gonna list a whole bunch of current faves, past faves, and other series that stuck with me or have a special place in my heart for whatever reason.

tagging @magsimags @newyearknwwme @swabianhotpocket @killiru @gaym3bo1 @ranchthoughts @gillianthecat @feralmuskyscentedhoepran @telomeke – feel free to ignore this if you've been tagged already or if you don't feel like participating <3

here are mine in alphabetical order (bc i really CAN'T do a ranking):

(details under the cut)

bad buddy series:

you've seen the state of my blog for the past 1.5 years. i'm not even gonna elaborate

galavant:

I MISS GALAVANT EVERY SINGLE DAY. it was gone too soon, even if the renewal for a second season was a huge surprise (forever sad we couldn't get a 3rd season).

please this series is so funny and entertaining and just iconic. the dialogue is SOOOO quotable and the songs are so funny and amazing!!!!!!!!!! (i mean hello it's alan menken!!!!!)

it's got badass ladies, a pathetic little meow meow king, A DRAGON (i super believe in tad cooper <333), an army of gays, pirates who are the lords of the sea (except for the part with the sea), a knight in shinging armour who is some over-muscled chauvinistic self-indulgent egotistic stingy prissy narcisissy jackass in a caaaaaaan, and so much more

PLEASE IF YOU LOVE DISNEY MOVIES AND MUSICALS AND FOURTH WALL BREAKS DO YOURSELF A FAVOUR AND GO WATCH THIS LITTLE GEM OF A SERIES. PLEASE. it's my favorite thing ever <333333333

fun fact: the title of my blog which goes "oh poop, i got gravy on my tummy flowers!" is a quote from this series

moonlight chicken:

this is one of the 3 series that i've rated as a 10/10 on mydramalist, so i HAD to include it and well. it's just. i don't know how to put it into words

this series and the characters just feel so real. i like how every single character has their own baggage to carry and how they all come together and influence each other. and i really like that this isn't your standard fluffy romance story. actually, one of my favorite things in this series is how the break-up between alan and wen is a major plot line. and i like how messy it all is, how long it takes them to actually draw the line. again, it just feels so real.

not to mention there's a deaf character!!!! please heart and li ming were just so wholesome 🥺🥺🥺 and li ming's relationship with his uncle was just so endearing

once again i am begging gmmtv:

FIRSTMIX MAIN COUPLE SERIES WHEN????

can we please, PLEASE, have another series with earth and fourth as an uncle/nephew duo?? fuck romantic actor pairs, give me familial ones!! you've already let fourth keep the same mother* two series in a row, let him keep the uncle too!!!! *(on that note: i ADORE lookwa. i don't fuck but she's a milf)

orphan black:

i'm not sure i ever actually finished this series (i think i'm still missing the final season??) but i just HAD to include it bc tatiana maslany, okay. tatiana maslany. that's it, that's all i'm gonna say

skam (norsk):

you had to be there

supernatural:

og followers will remember when this was still a spn blog. yes, this show makes the list. once a spn blog, always a spn blog*. free me.

*fun fact: this started as a spn blog and that's something that's actually still visible in my tagging system. spn is the only show where i don't tag episodes as #series abbreviation 1.01 but i tag the ep by the number itself without specifying the series

the brightest star in the sky:

during the pandemic my mom came to me and said "you need to watch this series. the male lead reminds me so much of your brother". i watched it with her. she was right. the male lead is exactly like my little brother. to the point where there was this one scene where the male lead was criticizing the female lead's outfit and my mom and i laughed and went "[brother] would totally say this too" and only a few days later my brother and i had a conversation about clothing over lunch and my brother said almost exactly the same thing as the male lead in that one scene and i looked at my mom in surprise and went "did you tell him about that scene????" as my mom was cracking up and shaking her head that no, she had not.

although, when i say the male lead is exactly like my brother, that's a lie. in fact, he's a mix of both my brother and an old friend of ours who was always like a second little brother to me (the two of them actually had similar personalities when they were teens)

and the female lead reminds me of a female friend that was also in the friend group with us (and who is one of my brother's best friends)

in fact, the dynamic between the male lead and the female lead reminds me very much of the dynamic between my brother and said female friend

all in all, the main characters are just very familiar to me and remind me of people i adore and that's why this series has a special place in my heart. (even if i constantly want to punch zheng boxu. sibling love <3)

theory of love:

ok i know this is kind of a controversial one, bc people seem to either love it or hate it BUT. just know that this series and especially the khaithird plot was made for me, and me personally <3

this series came to me at exactly the right time. it was like a mirror to my own life at the time and brought a lot of catharthis. i was going through a "break-up" with my own personal irl-khai back then and this series helped me deal with that, helped me get over him, and reconfirmed to me over and over again that i had taken the right decisions.

theory of love is also the thai drama that i've seen the most amount of times (i've watched the khaithird plot 27x that i've counted as of july 2nd, 2023) (though by now bbs is a close second with 22 full watches that i've counted as of july 2nd, 2023 and it might surpass theory of love at some point now that my personal irl-khai is no longer relevant in my life in any way. you know what that is!! growth!!!! the day bbs surpasses tol is the day i really, truly AM well and over my irl-khai)

you're beautiful:

ok. ok. hear me out. this is a kdrama from 2009, right?? but i didn't watch it until november 2021 where i'd had quite a day and in the evening was super exhausted and just wanted a zero-braincell show to watch and this happened to be on netflix and looked like the perfect thing for my state

little did i know it was gonna be a million-braincell show for me.

basically, i ended up being really entertained by it, saw that there were remakes, decided to check those out too and well. it got my little actor brain going. i started analyzing the acting (comparing esp the og korean version with the taiwanese remake) and it turned into this whole thing where i wrote pages and pages of notes in a google doc. i learned a lot through that and luckily we had camera acting classes at drama school during that period, so it was perfect timing. i suddenly understood so many things and what an effect it can have on the viewer if you do (or don't do) something a certain way

(oh and then a year later i inflicted this series on a uni friend of mine and it turned into this whole acting analysis project after i'd mentioned about something about acting and went "wait, i have THE perfect example for what i mean where you can see it first-hand." we had a great time and then binged the entire series during semester break. i'm planning on getting her into thai ql too, but unfortunately we're both super busy and don't really have time to watch series together)

honorary mentions:

ever night: i watched only the first season, though. and it's been a while since i saw it (3 years ago during lockdown) and so i don't remember the plot very well but... beautiful cinematography. loveable characters. fantastic acting. also the special effects when the main character did those "spells" (forgot what it was called) looked so cool??????

why r u: that was my first thai bl. the one that pulled me into the world of thai drama. considering how i'm mostly a thai drama blog now and the rebranding started with this series i couldn't not mention it, could i

my school president: it has to make the list just for episode 6 alone (gun desperately wanting to know which person from the music club tinn likes but being terrified ask and deep down knowing the answer already anyway but not feeling ready to hear it???? ooooooof that's so me-coded). anyway, all in all it's just a very sweet and wholesome drama and i'm still listening to a bunch of the songs a lot

the fosters: i was obsessed with this back in 2015. i stopped watching it shortly before the jonnor break-up bc i was busy at the time and when i saw the spoilers about the break-up i couldn't be bothered to catch up. but yeah, i was really into it for a while as well

andi mack: i've made multiple gifsets of that show. i don't gif a lot so yeah. considering that i bothered to sit down and make gifs for this, i think andi mack deserves an honorary mention. i wasn't suuper obsessed with it but i did quite like watching it

merlin (bbc): it's just very entertaining ok and the characters are fun to watch and have fun dynamics

[magicsunwheel]

Why You're F#cking Amazing

Pick-a-Card

How to play: pick one of the photos below using your intuition. You can close your eyes and meditate for a bit or just take a few grounding breaths while thinking of the topic. Feeling drawn to more than one is fine! You might have messages in more than one pile

Pile 1 (x) Pile 2 (x) Pile 3 (x)

My pile numbers always go from left to right, then down to the text row (if applicable)

Pile 1

Cards: The High Priestess, Five of Swords, Seven of Pentacles, The Moon Rx, Five of Rods, Ace of Pentacles

You are so intuitive! You're either very in touch with your divine feminine or are working your way there right now. Something about you is severe in the most beautiful way. You can take things seriously when they need to and the way you command a room with just your presence is unmatched. Maybe you're also a tarot reader or involved in spirituality/divination in some way. Maybe you really like Pick-a-Cards.

Something beautiful about you is that you never give up on a fight, especially when you know the end is worth it. Your ambition is strong and you will fight for what you love and what you want. You are not weak-willed by any means.

This also makes you so unique! You work so hard and put so much labor into your love even if you know it will take a long time to come to fruition. The times that you feel discouraged by a lack of results are few and far between. If for some reason you do find yourself wistfully hoping for faster results or an easier path, you can easily remind yourself of why you started in the first place.

You might have moments where you think of yourself as sneaky or like you're hiding a part of yourself from others, like your true self would be too much for them. I'm here to tell you that your intensity is exactly what make you such a beautiful person! You thrive in competition and in adversity. It gives you a chance to show off your quick thinking and survival skills. Others look at you with envy of how you can make an opportunity out of seemingly nothing!

If you need help improving your self-love, Spirit says to stop comparing yourself to others! You are amazing and beautiful and unique all on your own! Throwing yourself into the fray to compete against others who are nothing like you will only fim your inner shine. And you really do shine! When I asked for a card about why you are beautiful, nearly half the damn deck flew out!

Sprit loves you and I love you so please take care of yourself and keep making those amazing opportunities to improve your physical surroundings. (I feel like you have a very clean room/home)

Pile 2

Cards: Nine of Rods, the World, King of Cups, Three of Rods, Ace of Rods, Two of Cups

Ahh the Loona pile!

Similar to Pile 1, but much more fiery! You are resilient! Taking time to collect yourself before pushing forward with a renewed sense of energy and purpose is such an amazing and useful trait. You maybe aren't as commanding of a presence but you have such an inner strength that no one can deny.

You got the World for the reason why you're beautiful! Maybe it's related to physically being very beautiful and possibly exotic-looking. You might have very specific features associated with a certain area of the world that stand out where you live. You also have such a wonderful understanding of the world and where it's currently at. Things can seem negative or like hope is lost but you still seek out the beauty and share it with others. You see opportunity where others do not and feel a sense of peace and connectedness with all of humanity. Wow!

Your uniqueness shines in your emotionality and compassion. You might be a natural born leader who makes sure to understand all under your rule. You lead with kindness and, most importantly, by example. You don't have any desire to use you position for ill-gotten gains. Power to you does not corrupt, it solely provides a tool for you to do good in the world and really make a difference in the lives of others, whether it's on a large or small scale. You are probably the kind of person who makes sure to give money to those who need it when you pass a begging mother and her children, or buying a homeless man a bottle of water on a hot day.

Your card for why you think you are not perfect actually came out quite positive. Maybe you don't have a very low self esteem, but I can see a few possible scenarios here. You might be constantly planning in your head, waiting and watching for the next move to take but never actually getting to the action part. Maybe you're planning for your future and have so much planned out that you're excited for, but haven't made the practical plans on how to actually get there. This could make you feel bad about yourself especially on days where you're reminded of others moving ahead in their lives while you're still planning. Visualisation is very important in manifesting your desired reality! If you are moving slower than others around you, remember that it is okay to not be where "everyone else" is. Life is not a race or a competition. Taking your time to get to where you need to be when you need to be there reminds me of the story of the tortoise and the hare. Quick does not necessarily mean better.

You can improve your self-love by creating! Using your creativity and passion to make something! Create art, whether it's physical/digital art, music, writing, inventing, anything that uses those creative muscles of yours. It doesn't have to be good! Just creating something will help burn up that excess energy you have that's trying to rush you somewhere. Self-expression this way can be a wonderful hobby even if you don't consider yourself as a creative person.

Your kindness really shines through. You care so deeply about the people around you and your spiritual team cares just as deeply about you. You are loved and watched over and protected by Spirit. Others around you also see your sparkle and appreciate and admire you, even if they don't show it. Know you are beautiful and amazing and bringing a light into this world that needs to be here.

Pile 3

Cards: Six of Rods, the Hierophant, Four of Rods, Six of Cups, Ten of Swords, the Hermit Rx

Damn, who are y'all!? You've got some mighty power and pull in this world. Maybe you're a public figure or have some kind of platform, like a social media with many followers. You could also be well-recognized within your field of study/work. Whoever you are, people see you and look up to you. They celebrate you and how amazing you are! Spirit loves this about you and you really shine in the spotlight. Your achievements deserve all this pomp and celebration!

You are naturally authoritative. People listen when you speak and take your words to heart. You might also be a religious person or someone who enjoys organization and the comfort of hierarchy. People will willingly follow you wherever you lead them because they trust you with all their hearts. "A merciful ruler" (lol) You hold your position with grace and dignity befitting a king or queen.

You are unique in ways the public recognizes, but we knew that already! You might be someone who likes to entertain and you throw the greatest parties and get-togethers. Maybe you've planned a wedding and everyone had such an amazing time! You know how to relax and have fun when the time for celebrating arrives. You can out down your guard and bit and let loose. Not many people with such responsibility can let go of the reigns like that, but you don't seem to hold on to control too tightly.

Your past might be a source of anxiety for you. Maybe you're worried that what you've done when you were younger will catch up to you and ruin what you've got going on now, but it's important to remember that the past is the past. It cannot be undone or wished away. Taking time to accept what happened and recognizing that you've moved on to bigger and better things is important here. Whatever happened, take time to heal your childhood wounds and forgive past actions.

Ending this cycle will bring much more self-love to your life. Old habits and patterns being out to rest is the way forward. It might be a painful ending and something you don't necessarily look forward to, but it is something that needs to happen to clear out old energy and welcome in everything new. You can't expect to move on if you're still repeating old actions or ways of thinking. It's time to set these things to rest and evolve. Leave behind what no longer serves you.

Your understanding of yourself knows no bounds. You've taken the time to inquisit yourself and learn all of the shadows that lie there. Self-reflection might be a favored pastime for you. Through this knowledge of yourself you are able to see truths that many struggle to see all their lives. Your light can cut through the fog if bullshit and see the true source of something. Use this knowledge of yourself to become the best version of yourself that you can be! I know you're already on your way there and it's amazing to see! Spirit is so proud of you and loves you so much!

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗗𝗨𝗞𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 || dark!jan (the edukators/die fetten Jahre sind vorbei) x reader

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 | in scoping out his next target, jan hadn't realised that you wouldn't be joining your family on their next vacation; in choosing to stay home, you hadn't realised what you were in for.

𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 | 4.3k

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 | smut (noncon, with fingering and penetrative sex), innocence kink, virginity loss/first time, brief exhibitionism, degradation, daddy kink, spitting (in mouth and on pussy), breaking and entering/home invasion, touch of misogyny kink, slight objectification kink (petnames like babydoll/dolly being 99% of this), slight bleeding (from sex specifically), death mention (no threats, just the fear of threats if that makes sense?)

𝗔/𝗡 | you don't need to have seen the movie to understand this fic, as long as you know that jan and his friends break into rich people's houses as part of their anti-capitalist rebellion. note that the vast majority of dialogue is written in english for simplicity, but that these conversations would actually take place fully in german.

this is a DARK fic, if you hit 'keep reading' I don't wanna hear you upset about content listed clearly in the warnings section

It’s probably normal to hear a bump in the night, to wake up and be a little freaked out, but to ultimately just stay in bed and not do anything about it. At first you were sure you were sure it was nothing, though your gut told you otherwise; then, as you heard more and more you spent quite some time convincing yourself that it was just pipes creaking or the foundation settling. But the thing about pipes and foundations is they don’t speak German.

“Hier entlang, hier entlang,” someone whispered, and footsteps shifted all along the lower floor.

Maybe you were still asleep, and this was just a strange dream, a terrifying dream. You pulled the blanket up over your head and prayed to wake up, but the denial turned to terror when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

You jumped out of bed, but it was too late to go out your bedroom door— you could hear them walking and whispering outside. Your bathroom had a small window, but even if you managed to fit through it you’d be on the second story with no way to ropel down. Maybe in your mind you could be some daring adventurer with the perfect plan to escape, or with the skills to defend yourself with something random you could grab, but you knew better than to really think you could do anything but hide.

As the footsteps and voices got louder, your eyes frantically searched the room and finally landed on the large upright dresser— maybe it was a little obvious, but it had a handy little feature that made it lock from the inside. It had come in handy for a decade of hide-and-seek, and now it would hopefully serve you one last time.

With not a second to spare, you ran over and grabbed the golden handles, swinging the doors open but being careful to shut them quietly after you’d stepped inside and made room for yourself among the coats and dresses. You searched for the lock in the pitch darkness, only able to find it because it was right above the keyhole that glowed from the dim light outside. Just as you turned the knob and heard the metal lock slide inside the wooden door, you heard your bedroom door open.

Someone walked around your room briefly, you even heard them pick something up and set it down— probably your bedside lamp, based on where it was coming from, but you obviously couldn’t be sure and frankly didn’t care that much. Footsteps approached the dresser and you saw the keyhole light up as a flashlight passed over it.

“Let’s take all the clothes and put them in the fireplace,” a voice in the room announced. “We won’t actually light the fireplace, but it sends a message.”

You covered your mouth with your hand to try to keep quiet when the doors shook briefly from an attempt to open them.

“Fuck, it’s locked.”

“Here, you go on to the next room, I’ll pick it,” a second voice decided, and you heard more footsteps as someone else approached the armoire. “Look how fancy the dresser is, they’ve probably got furs in here too— god knows people living in a house like this can’t miss an opportunity to destroy the environment.”

You heard something jiggle inside the keyhole, a clicking noise that went on for just a few moments before you heard the metal slide inside the wood again and the doors slowly opened.

A man, dressed in black and holding a flashlight in his gloved hands, stared at you from behind a mask that left only his brown eyes visible. You both stood still, staring at each other, until he did exactly the last thing you expected: he lifted the mask up to his forehead and showed you his face.

He was a lot younger than you would’ve expected, though he had the scruffy beard of a guy trying to look older; his teeth were slightly crooked when he smiled at you, and when he raised a brow while he gave you a quick look-over, you noticed the way they almost connected in the middle.

Under his gaze, you suddenly felt very aware of how little your lacy, baby pink nightgown protected you from the chilling night air.

"Well, what's this?" he asked coyly as he watched you shiver. "Guess these capitalist pigs left one of their little piglets behind." He put on a cooing sort of voice as he addressed you directly: "Did mummy and daddy leave you all alone while they went on holiday?"

He stepped closer even as you tried to shrink away, examining you carefully.

“Get out of there, silly, what are you hiding for? I’m not gonna hurt you,” he assured, not that you found it especially comforting. When you didn’t step out of your own accord, he grabbed your arm and roughly yanked you forward; he slammed the dresser doors behind you, and you whimpered in fear as he pinned you down against them by each arm. "Shh, hey, don't worry— I'm here to take care of you, you can call me daddy instead until your heartless banker father gets back. Go ahead, tell me what's wrong."

"I—"

"Ah ah," he tutted with a mix of bemusement and disappointment, "I already told you how to address me."

You shuddered but finally responded, "Daddy, I'm scared."

He gave you a demeaning little pout, but you continued.

"Some men broke in and I'm alone and… and I don't know if they want to hurt me."

"No, baby, they don't want to hurt you," he promised with a gentle smile, but it turned horrifically sinister as he leaned in to add with a whisper: "but we will if we have to."

You swallowed thickly, your gut twisting when you felt him breathe out against your neck.

"So you're gonna be a good girl, right?"

You nodded quickly, turning away when he leaned in closer, looking down at you with darkened eyes and running the fingers of his black gloves over the neckline of your pyjamas.

“You were just waiting for me, huh? All tucked in in your cute little nightgown, dressed up like a doll,” he grinned. “I bet you want daddy to play with you, hm?”

He laughed cruelly when you shook your head, fighting harder to get away again as he squeezed your arms tight enough to leave marks where his fingers had been.

“Wanna play, little dolly?” he continued, pressing his body into yours and roughly shoving his leg between your thighs. “I know you do… c'mon and give me a kiss," he requested.

“N-no,” you stammered, but he grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand and forced you to look ahead, slamming his lips onto yours and ignoring your muffled protests. When he pinched your side you gasped instinctively, and he shoved his tongue inside your mouth roughly— but that only lasted for a moment, before you found renewed strength and managed to shove him back. It wasn’t far enough to free yourself, but enough to get a break from the oppressive kiss.

“Aw, don’t be mean,” he pouted, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. “You said you’d be good for me, remember?”

“Just stop, please,” you whined, gasping before you could stop yourself when he rubbed his thigh up against you— hitting right on your clit which throbbed in spite of everything. Somehow the fear made you more sensitive, or at least something had because you’d never felt quite like this before.

“See? You’re all worked up,” he explained, “I’m gonna help you.”

This time when he leaned in he started to kiss and suck at your neck instead, starting right beneath your ear and moving down slowly until his tongue laved over the crook where your shoulder began. As much as you hated it, it made arousal pulse between your legs where his thigh continued to push hard on you.

When he moved even closer, you could feel his erection against your hip; you didn’t even realise that you’d let out a gasp until you felt him smile against your neck. “Oh, babydoll… you want daddy’s cock inside you, I can tell.”

“N-no, I don’t— just stop,” you begged.

“If only it were so easy, to just ask someone to stop,” he mused. “You know how many times we asked people like your father to stop before they fucked us? You know how far that gets us? You don’t just get to ask nicely, you have to fight for it…”

He chuckled as you writhed in his embrace.

“But you’re too weak to fight, poor thing.”

"Please, I'm not a part of whatever you’re talking about,” you tried to explain, “I don't know much about what Papa does at work—"

"That's your problem, baby, you're blissfully ignorant! Not all of us have that luxury. But the good news is, I'm here to educate you." He pushed up even closer to you, speaking lowly right into your ear with rage starting to bubble up in his voice. "Your father is a piece of scum who feeds on the working class and then robs them blind. You live like this, unquestioningly, and the rest of Germany suffers. Stuck-up bitch like you wouldn't even notice me if you saw me on the street, would you? Wouldn't even give me the time of day, but now you're at my mercy. That’s what you people need to learn: that you’re not gonna be on top forever.”

Suddenly you felt his hand cup your sex through your nightgown, and you choked on your gasp. “No—!” you started to shout, but his right hand covered your mouth as the left hastily pulled your pyjamas up and reached under them.

“Stop fucking squirming,” he grunted as he reached between your kicking legs and slid quickly up your thigh. “Mm, bet you’re hiding a pretty little cunt under this nightgown— hold still, baby, you’re gonna like this.”

Finally maneuvring his way into your panties, he abruptly shoved two gloved fingers inside of you, watching closely as you scrunched your face up tight in discomfort. He thrusted and twisted them around for a bit, carelessly stretching you open as you tried desperately to squirm away; it stung a bit, and the leather of the gloves was cool and awkwardly firm against your walls. For some reason, when he dropped his free hand from your face, you didn’t try to scream again— maybe because you knew no one who cared could hear you— and you just panted heavily instead.

As quickly as he’d pushed them in he pulled them out, bringing the glove up to his mouth to take it off with his teeth with a little growl before rubbing his bare hand over your pussy again. You whimpered when he slid his fingers inside you again, this time feeling the texture of his skin as he curled the pads of his fingers right against your spot. “Yeah?” he mumbled his taunt around the leather between his teeth before spitting the glove out onto the floor. “Fuck, so warm… you’re so wet already, dolly, has nobody been giving this pussy any attention?”

He stopped moving his fingers inside you to pull out and give your clit a few slaps, licking his lips when you cried out from the sharp sensation.

“Huh?” he reminded you to answer when you never gave a response.

“N-no,” you shook your head, finally, and he smiled like he was proud of himself.

“Yeah? You’re not a virgin, are you?”

You only looked down at the floor, blinking a few times as you focused on the teal carpet, and heard him laugh darkly.

“Oh, dolly, I might break you,” he warned roughly as he pushed your gown up to your waist, ignoring your sobbed pleas for him to stop. “We don’t usually take anything from the people we visit, but if I take your virginity maybe your people will finally get the message.”

“Please— you don’t have to do that,” you stammered, rushing through whatever you could think of to make him change his mind, “I won’t tell anyone you were here. You can have whatever you want, if I call them they can send you money—”

“You aren’t even fucking listening to me, we don’t want your expensive bullshit and we don’t want your dirty fucking money!” he corrected sternly, clutching your sleeves tighter and shaking you slightly with the intensity of his movements. “We just want you to be afraid, because the revolution is coming.”

But you were afraid of something much more imminent than a revolution.

“Get on the fucking bed,” he demanded, though you couldn’t do much else considering he was already roughly tossing you onto it, climbing on top of you and pinning you down when you started to crawl back instinctively. With his legs resting on yours and keeping you (somewhat) still, he only needed one hand to grab your shoulders while the other rushed to open his jeans.

Your eyes got a little wide when you saw his cock— before that, it was almost like some part of you didn’t really think he’d go through with his, but now you could see clearly that he was hard and ready… and big enough to make you question how that thing was even supposed to fit inside you.

He tore through your panties like they were paper; he lifted and spread your legs as he sat between them and, much to your humiliation, just stared down at your pussy for a moment. You’d never felt so exposed and it made you feel worse than ever. “Knew you’d have a pretty cunt,” he announced smugly, “can’t wait to see it all stretched out and covered in my come— I’m gonna ruin you, babydoll.”

You weakly struggled as he held your hips down with one hand and haphazardly stroked his cock a few times with the other, rubbing himself over your opening before pulling his hips back to spit right onto your clit. After spreading the improvised lubrication around with his head for a moment, he pushed down on it with his thumb to line up with your hole and, without any further warning, slid inside in one motion.

You bit down on your lip hard, and even that wasn’t enough to distract you from the sting; it felt like he was ripping you open, not to mention going so deep that you could feel him in your stomach.

He groaned loudly, head falling back for a moment as he started to thrust into you. “Fuck, I can tell you’re a virgin— it must be hurting you, huh?”

But the question was a bit redundant, since tears had already begun to stream down your temples and your fingers were clutching tightly onto the sheets beneath you; if they were any less expensive, they probably would’ve ripped.

“Maybe a little pain will be good for you,” he decided with a smirk, “I think a spoiled brat like you has been spared the rod a few too many times.”

It was definitely more than a ‘little’ pain, and it only seemed to sting more each time he pulled back and pushed in again— he wasn’t going very fast, yet, so that was one thing you could almost be thankful for. That said, he wasn’t very gentle either.

He hastily reached up under your nightgown to grope your breasts, quickly moving from one to the other as he squeezed them just a bit too hard. “You like how daddy plays with your tits, don’t you?” he grunted. “Say, ‘yes daddy.’”

“Y-yes, daddy,” you mumbled awkwardly; maybe being embarrassed to say that was superfluous considering everything else happening right now, but your face got warmer regardless.

A whimper almost caught in your throat when he pinched your hardened nipples, but it broke through when he seemingly-randomly gave a spank to your inner thigh.

He looked down at where your bodies were joined, where he was stretching you out with steady pumps of his cock that filled you to the brim, before reaching up to quickly pull his black sweater off over his head— a t-shirt underneath came off with it as his chest was exposed. He wasn’t unreasonably pale but he clearly wasn’t the type to get a ton of sun, and he had a thin scattering of dirty-blonde hair over some of it. It was sort of embarrassing, now, seeing how thin he was and yet he was still so much stronger than you.

"You're getting so wet, babydoll, look— you're making a mess on these expensive sheets," he grinned. And he wasn't lying; the sting of the stretch had slowly faded, replaced with a friction you actually couldn't help but enjoy. Each time he moved, he seemed to slide right over a spot that made you tighten up your legs so they wouldn't shake.

But, apparently, there was still plenty left that he could do to hurt you.

You cried out, so louder it echoed across the room, when he suddenly thrust into you hard and deep, hitting the very end of you as your body involuntarily jolted— he clapped his hand down over your mouth instantly, muffling your cries to near-silence as he set a punishingly fast pace out of nowhere. You couldn’t turn your head when you heard your bedroom door open, but you could glance to the side and see another burglar appear in the doorway, staring forward at the scene in front of him.

A new sense of shame burned inside you for being seen in such a way; oddly, it came with guilt, too, as if you were doing something wrong yourself, when really it was just something wrong being done to you. The man on top of you didn’t seem to feel much of either, though: he didn’t even slow down.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" the other man asked his partner, face still hidden but his voice a mixture of bewildered and disgusted. "This isn't how we roll."

"Fuck off, I'm almost done," your attacker scoffed. You tried to use the distraction to fight him again— you swung your arms to try to scratch his face or push him away, but without even hesitating he simply stopped covering your mouth to pin your wrists at either side of your head.

"Is this really what you think the revolution is about?" the man in the door sneered. "Or does that even matter to you when you think you might get some ass? Jesus, I always knew you were a creep but this is…" he trailed off.

"Maybe you should take a turn with her, might fix your attitude," the man on top of you suggested. "She's real tight— trust me, you'll feel better."

"I promise that raping that girl isn't gonna make me feel better, Jan," he frowned.

"Fine, then just go so I can finish and I'll meet you guys in the yard," Jan— apparently that was his name— instructed.

"Don't go," you begged the man in the door, seeing the concern on his face— you could tell he wanted to stop Jan, maybe if you asked him to, he would.

"Shut up, bitch," Jan growled, correcting you with a slap to the face.

The man in the doorway just shook his head and sighed, stepping back into the hall and shutting the door behind him. You cried harder, more sure than ever that Jan was right when he said you were at his mercy; and he didn’t seem to have much.

He fucked you rough and fast, recklessly chasing his own pleasure with no regard for yours. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean that you didn’t feel any pleasure, though… it was building, in fact, sort of like when you touched yourself but so much stronger, and deeper, and threatening to overflow at any moment. “Oh fuck, you’re close,” he noticed with a tilted grin, “you love it so fucking much, huh? Wanna cream on daddy’s cock?”

You shook your head but he slapped you again, spinning your face to the side as he held both your wrists above your head in one hand and gripped your jaw with the other.

“Stop lying,” he growled, “I can feel it, I can feel your cunt getting tighter… you’re gonna come so fucking hard for me, aren’t you, babydoll? God, what a nasty fucking whore you are…”

He held your face to look straight ahead, up at where he hovered above you and bared his teeth in a snarl, before forcing your mouth open and spitting into it. You grimaced and tried even harder to squirm away but he quickly clamped his hand down over your nose and mouth so you couldn’t try to spit it back out again.

“C’mon, swallow it,” he instructed roughly, voice a bit strained from the force it took to hold you down. You could hardly breathe with his hand this way, and when you tilted your head back to try to get away from it, you accidentally swallowed his spit with a disgusted, muffled grunt. “There you go, good girl,” he purred as he watched your throat bob a bit involuntarily, “that’s it, I know you wanna come— say it! Say ‘daddy I wanna come.’”

He let go of your mouth and slapped you again before you even had a chance to hesitate. “D-daddy,” you whined, “I… I—”

“It’s not that fucking hard,” he hissed, “just say it, you dumb fucking slut!”

One more slap was apparently all you needed to just choke it out: “I wanna come, daddy!” you cried, back starting to arch as the pressure of holding back your release became too much to bear.

“Then fucking come,” he demanded, “come for me, baby, right fucking now.”

You tried to hold out just a moment longer, just to spite him, just so you wouldn’t obey him so easily… but it only took one rough thrust right into the end of you to make it all spill over. You came with a sob, shaking and jerking beneath him for a moment before a warmth spread through you; it started right where he filled you and spread everywhere until your mind was all foggy and your fingers started to go numb— or maybe that was just because of him pinning you down at the wrists.

Much to your disgust, you could hear how wet you had become with every stroke inside you, a sickening squelching noise that made him laugh as your face tingled with numbness and burned with shame all at once. “Oh fuck, that’s it,” he praised, “naughty little dolly, making a mess on daddy’s cock with that dirty fucking cunt of yours… I’m gonna cover it in my come, are you ready, baby? Ask daddy to come on your pussy, don’t make me hit you again.”

“Daddy, please,” you mumbled quietly, “come on my pussy…”

“I can’t hear you, babydoll, you need to speak up,” he mocked.

And you were just so exhausted and overwhelmed and his thrusts inside your sensitive walls were starting to get painful again— that was why you really meant it when you sobbed through your begging: “Please, daddy, come on my pussy!”

With one more panted moan he pulled out and only had to give his cock one blur of a stroke before white, warm come began to paint over your sore opening, your swollen clit, your bruised inner thighs. “Fuuucckkk…” he groaned under his breath as he watched himself coat you, and you caught a tinge of pink from your blood on his cock and hand as he slowed down to a stop. "Sheiße," he sighed, letting go of your wrists to sit up and close his eyes for a moment before looking down again at where you were limp and splayed out on your bed beneath him. “See? I’m getting reckless, I really shouldn’t be leaving evidence…”

Even without that, you knew his name and face, but apparently he was focusing on the copious amounts of DNA he’d just left on you.

“I suppose it won’t be a problem, because you’re not going to tell anyone,” he posited, leaning down slightly to hover over you as you swallowed around the rock that had suddenly formed in your throat. “You know how I know you won’t?”

You weakly shook your head, already terrified to imagine what the answer to that question was going to be. Of course, your first assumption was that he was going to kill you, or threaten to do so if you involved the police. He knew where you lived, he could threaten your family, too: the thought made your skin crawl as he leaned down further to whisper right against your ear as you instinctively turned your face away from him.

“Because if you tell someone that I raped you,” he finally continued, “then you’ll also have to tell them that you liked it.”

Speaking right against your ear, it took him no effort at all to stick his tongue out and lick you right on it, making you squeal with fear and disgust.

He quickly hopped off the bed and recollected himself, stuffing his softening and blood-stained cock back into his pants before gathering his discarded clothes from the floor. "Your folks won't be home for two more nights, right? I should come visit you again," he winked when he spared a glance at you. “Now get some rest, baby, you deserve it. Don’t worry, I’ll lock the front door behind me when we leave… wouldn’t want anybody unsavory getting in, now would we?”

[lesbianlovelanguage]

Hmm. What about: Something's gotta go wrong (cause I'm feeling way too damn good)

Ooooo, Lion coming in with some angst hehehe

Panic attack trigger warning!

If you asked Billy where he thought his life would be five years after high school, he would have responded with “Honestly I’ll probably be dead.”

That isn’t what happened.

Instead, five years after graduating college found him happier than he ever thought he could have been. He’d managed to save up enough money to move to Chicago, got a nice gig at a local mechanic’s shop, and even had a small group of close friends. The least expected portion though?

He had a boyfriend. Who he had been dating for four years. And not just any boyfriend, but Steve Harrington.

The short story was that they both moved to Chicago at the same time, and bith needed a roommate, so why not? They’d worked out their differences, even had a quasi-acquaintanceship due to the overlap of middle schoolers they looked after.

A year was a long time to live with someone, and it was the day when they had to renew their lease that Steve made his move. He had explained later that it was to give Billy an out incase he didn’t want a relationship but all it actually did was make his hand shake as he signed the renewal contract. And thus they were living together and dating. It was going on their fourth year and they were in domestic bliss.

But Billy had learned early in life that good things never lasted, especially for him.

It wasn’t even a significant event that set him off. They were in the middle of their morning routine when Billy realized how easy it became, how domesticated they were, and how dependent he had become on Steve being in his life.

Suddenly he couldn’t breath, his vision swam, and he felt himself fall over. He had curled up on their kitchen tile, and could only vaguely recognise that Steve was crouched down in front of him. He knew what to do when Billy was like this too, after the first year of living together and both of them figuring out the other’s triggers theough trial and error.

Thinking about how well Steve knew Billy, and how to react to a panic attack, only made it worse though. His thoughts circled, trying to pinpoint when he had become so complacent in their relationship, when he had let Steve nestle so firmly in his life and heart, even though he knew there would be no one moment to focus on. It had happened slowly, over the course of five whole years together.

That only consumed his thoughts in a different way as he turned to thoughts about how Steve would leave, would it be the same? Slowly untangling himself from Billy’s mess until one day he was just gone? Or all at once instead, like a bandage? Or would he stay, but turn angry because Billy was a piece of shit? Because if he knew one thing for sure, it was that everyone he loved left, and those who stayed never stayed happy and kind.

No, if he knew one thing, it was that Steve would never physically hurt him. He would probably take the first option, in some twisted sense of making it easier on Billy.

He was shocked out of his thoughts by the constant sound of someone begging.

“Please Billy, you’re scaring me baby. Come back to me. I need my Tiger. Please come back.”

Slowly, as if he were resurfacing after having held his breath underwater for too long, things began to come back into focus. He was on the tile in their kitchen, propped up against the cabinets that held their pots and pans. Steve was crouched in front of him, still begging, face twisted in fear and worry.

“‘M here, Pretty Boy. I’m okay.”

“You most certainly aren’t, but we’ll talk in a minute. Drink this.” He commanded, no room for argument as he handed Billy a glass of water. He obediently chugged the water down before setting the empty glass down next to him and wiping his face. He had been crying. Fuck.

“None of that. C’mon, focus on my breathing,” Steve said gently, grabbing Billy’s hand and splaying his palm against his chest, taking deep breaths for Billy to follow. Eventually he felt steady enough to move from the floor to their couch, and after disappearing quickly to call them both out of work, Steve returned and curled uo next to him. They put on an old sitcom and settled in to watch for a while.

Hours later, after they had ordered lunch and Steve had packed up the leftovers, he walked over and sat down gently on the couch.

“You know we need to talk about it. At least what set it off.” Steve’s tone was gentle, but Billy knew he wouldn’t be easily distracted. He was always better at the feelings shit.

“‘re gonna leave me,” Billy muttered, staring at his hands that rested in his lap.

“Wha- where did this come from?” Steve sputtered.

“Everyone leaves Steve. It’s just a fact. But I- I think you leaving would kill me,” he admitted in a small voice, still not looking up.

He felt Steve shift closer before he spoke.

“Baby, look at me,” Steve whispered. “I love you. You know I do. I’m not going anywhere, unless you kick me out, and I’ll say it until the day I die. Or the day you believe me.”

“Bullshit. I’m too much Steve. ‘m no good for you.”

“That’s not your decision to make Tiger. I do have something that’s your decision though.” That got Billy to look up, to shoot Steve a quizzical look. “Hold on,” he continued. “I have to go grab something.” And with that, Steve shot up off the couch and dissapeared down the hallway to their bedroom.

He came back with both hands behind his back and a nervous expression. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. Billy shot him another confused look, but obeyed, anxious to see what Steve was hiding. He heard some more shuffling, Steve moving in front of him.

“Open ‘em.”

He did. Only to find Steve, his beautiful Pretty Boy, kneeling on one knee in front of him, holding out a velvet box with a silver ring nestled inside.

“It isn’t exactly how I planned, but if it proves to you that I’m in this for the long haul, I had to show you. I love you Billy Hargrove, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Billy cried for the second time that day, but this time it was all happy tears.

[mantra4ia]

Trixstar Imagine Fanfiction: "Three Times The Charm"

By mantra4ia. August 1st 2020. Cross posted to AO3.

One of the most aggravating things about hell was that Lucifer could still hear prayers. Like a soundproof room with a squeaky fan. Like a 'no smoking' sign on your cigarette break. Like listening to Alanis Morissette unironically. God's final joke, Lucifer lamented, was that deep in the bowels of exile was just enough awful celestial Wi-Fi to get the spam — prayers to other celestials of which he only caught the static, or pleas to the big man himself — like the bleed-over on an AM/FM radio. Which was why, when Lucifer finally heard a prayer loud and clear with the volume turned up to 11, it nearly knocked him off his thrown. It had been so long since anyone had prayed directly to him, not in jest, or begging for a favor, but earnestly and with fervor that at first it gave him a migraine. He could hardly hear the words let alone distinguish the voice behind them, until at last he was able to tune in to someone achingly familiar.

"Hey Lucifer, it's me."

Trixie, you little hellion, is it really you?!

"it's Trixie. I'm not sure whether you'll remember me. It's been a while."

You have no idea...but of course I remember you mini-Decker, don't be silly.

"Maybe you think I'm still pet sized. Well I'm not anymore."

I promise you, those remarks had nothing to do with your stature and everything to do with your intelligence, and possibly also your penchant to devour snack cakes, small human. But I admit I was wrong Trixie, you're smart and clever. It was then that the epiphany struck Lucifer: why and how was she praying to him at all?

"I bet you're wondering why I called you on the long distance prayer line. At first I thought maybe I would hear your voice answer me back, but I guess this will have to do. You see Lucifer, I may have lied to you, and I know you are not going to like that, but I hope it doesn't keep you away forever."

What? He took flight from his throne and down to lowest depth of hell scape, trying without success to fully find his footing among the chasms, his knees imperceptibly shaking —though he knew not why — while his feet took hold of him though he knew not where to. As if beckoned by the siren sound of her voice, he made his way through the winding onyx labrynth, turning where her voice waned and proceeding again where it renewed in strength.

"Because I didn't lie-outright-lie. I just didn't tell the whole truth. I've always known you were an angel, like your brother Amenadiel. Just that you live in different places. I wrote a whole bunch of letters over the years, but the post office told me Hell wasn't a valid address, and eventually they started making fun of me behind my back for not having enough postage."

Well you should have tried sending it via the DMV. Honestly, Beatrice, I have any number of portals there. A whole network really.

"Anyway, I figure where you are it might be lonely, so I guess this is as good a time as any to catch up."

Out with it then, what's the sitch child?

"I just started driving lessons, although they're not as good as yours." That's my girl. "And Charlie's doing great, he started playing soccer." Please don't tell me Linda had him play keeper to keep an eye out for infant angel powers. "He's the goalie." Christ, I bet she put him in a helmet too. "I was mad at him for a long time, I know he's only little, but I was angry that he couldn't remember you like I remember you. He even asked me if you were my imaginary friend." Does he really not remember his Uncle Lucifer? "I know, kids are dumb. But I'm not mad anymore. I drew him a picture of you in my art class...and my detention after I didn't do the actual assignment in art class, but still-lifes of fruit are boring. It doesn't look like my old drawings on the refrigerator from the last time you were here, if that's what you're worried about. And it's better than Amenadiel's stick figure drawings. If I'm being honest, I wanted to make sure I remembered you too. Maybe one day you can tell me what you think. My teacher Mrs. Fissner says it's very good. Disturbing but good. She may have sent me to see the social worker. Mom misses you. I miss you too. Listen Lucifer, I'm sorry I didn't reach out sooner but...never mind, I guess that's all for now...."

No, Trixie. You're the first human voice I've heard in a thousand years who isn't begging for mercy. Don't, please, Lucifer pleaded.

"It's just that I don't really believe in prayers. I mean, I think they're kind of stupid..."

You're preaching to the choir Trix. I couldn't agree more, this rare instance being a timely exception.

"...because people somehow find a way to make it all about them, and what they want, when they should really be listening."

Oh damnation, don't tell me you've turned into a theological scholar, or did Amenadiel put you up to this? Fess up. Could you sound anymore like your mum, you're the second oldest young person I know. Where is the Beatrice who could extort people for cash, lay waste to my flat in a single pirouette, and inhale chocolate like I inhale controlled substances? A haunting thought ghosted over Lucifer's nostalgia. Did I miss all your formative years?

"And I don't want to do that, because I don't want to torture you."

Lucifer's step faltered as he slid to the ground against the ravine walls, at last overwhelmed by the whole absurd, miraculous encounter. All the days upon days he'd spent torturing souls without missing a beat, and Trixie was worried about torturing him? About how her struggles might affect him? His chin sank to his chest, and Lucifer cried.

"Mom didn't tell me you went back to hell, because she doesn't know that I believe you when you said you're the devil, but she did tell me that it's important and that in your new job a lot depends on you. I didn't want to hurt you by asking you to come back when I know that you can't. But this life is really important too Lucifer, and...it's mom. She's got a new friend."

So that's it, Lucifer thought in resignation, that's why she's praying.

"I feel lost between them. So I asked God to send me an angel, the nicest angel he had."

You've got to be kidding me? Is that what I am now sloppy seconds, I'm not even first on the prayer chain!

"Except I'm pretty sure I already used up that prayer when he sent me you."

Lucifer's din of thoughts fell into silence as he hauled himself up to full stature, trying to pull himself together. I can't help you Trixie, your mom deserves to be happy. Chloe deserves to share her life with someone who makes her feel as special as she really is. And God help me, I can't believe I'm saying this, but it would help if you showed her a little grace.

"So I was hoping Lucifer, that you could please come back and show my mom this isn't the right guy for her. I know you're the only one who can."

Not if it puts you both in harm's way, Lucifer said, knowing that his words would never reach her, and that her prayer like a billion others before would float away unrequited.

"If you can't help me, please help her."

Lucifer stopped cold. Why would the detective need my help?

"I told you, Lucifer. I need you to understand that I've always known what you look like. More than that, I need you to know I've always understood who you are. So that you'll believe me when I say I know that my mom's friend, the one that looks like you, isn't really you."

It was only then that Lucifer realized the wall he'd braced against was not a stone cliff, but a gate. He did not waste a moment eviscerating the lock.

Trixie had searched for Lucifer once, in his mortal abode at Lux.

She'd found him again within his personal den of iniquity without batting an eye.

Little did she realize that even in the lowest depths of hell she could reach him. Dad's blessings, it seems, run in the family.

Third time's the Trix. You're right urchin. It's time to go home.

***21 days of Lucifer Countdown: 21 days until season five. New content daily***

[sunkissedpages]

Again, feel free to ignore, but like also (and if you only write one PLEASE write this one) 5, 10, 13, 30, 32, and 34? I know that's a lot, but I felt like they all went together pretty well and woof. Anyway, again, feel free not to write any, because like I'm hella late. But I love you very much!!

anything for you love :))

“I’d hold on to something if I were you.”

“You’re really going to make me beg for it?”

“You’re so sexy when you’re all hot and bothered.”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“If you don’t like my teasing then why are you moaning?”

“I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.“

“Someone’s going to catch us,” you hissed as Harrison dragged you by the hand into a dark closet.

“Not if you lower your voice” he muttered back, closing the door behind the two of you.

You were at a mutual friend’s wedding, already a few glasses of champagne in- which just so happened to make your boyfriend exceptionally horny, and it was working like a charm tonight.

He’d yanked you out of a conversation before dinner had even been served, leading you to the secluded coat closet where you were now. But you certainly weren’t complaining.

Harrison stood in front of you for a moment with his hands in the pockets of his slacks, drinking in the sight of you. He licked his lips. “You look ravishing tonight, darling.”

You cocked your head to the side. “You don’t look too bad yourself, stud.” He chuckled, pale blue eyes glittering in the dim light. You took a deep breath. “So… what are we doing in here?” You looked around the closet. There wasn’t enough space to do much of anything. “Do you want me to…?” you trailed off and hoisted up your dress to get on your knees, but Harrison reached out a hand to stop you.

“Not quite yet, love.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded. “Take off your panties.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Take. Them. Off.”

You hesitantly reached up under your tight dress and pulled off your thong. Haz held out his hand and you gave it to him in confusion. He pocketed it and straightened his tie.

“Ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“To go eat dinner. Our friends are waiting for us.”

“We-we’re not going to do anything?”

He smirked at your impatience and shook his head. “I have another idea.”

You were confused, but let him lead you back out of the closet by the hand. Salads were waiting on plates when you returned to your table and you smiled at everyone politely as you took your seat.

You and Haz had been placed at a table with Tuwaine, some scattered Hollands (there were so many of them), and some other familiar faces that you’d met once or twice.

“What’d we miss?” Harrison asked, smiling at everyone.

“Just the bread, we didn’t save any.” Tom smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Unbelievable.” You shook your head, grinning.

“Hey, you snooze you lose.”

You smoothed your dress over your legs, still confused as to what Harrison was up to, but as the group fell into an easy conversation you began to forget about it completely.

Tuwaine was talking about some project he and Harry were working on and you were listening intently, spooning vegetable soup into your mouth when Harrison placed his hand on your bare thigh, just under the hem of your dress and you choked, sputtering and spitting soup back into your bowl.

“Woah, y/n, you okay?” Tom asked, looking up at you from the conversation.

“Yeah, you alright, baby?” Haz asked innocently. You knew he only called you baby was playing at something.

You maintained a neutral expression even though you wanted to glare at him. “Yeah, sorry, piece of celery got caught in my throat.”

“I’m sorry, love,” he cooed, rubbing your back soothingly and began playing with the ends of your hair.

You pushed your soup away from you and tuned back into whatever Tuwaine was saying. You ignored Harrison’s hand on your leg. He wasn’t doing anything with it, it was just there. You could deal with that.

The soup bowls were taken away and the main course was served. Toasts were made, cheers had, and throughout it all, Harrison’s hand remained on your thigh. You really weren’t sure what he was up to until he began inching his fingers up your leg as you ate your pasta.

He was all the way up to the crest of your hip when you finally reached under the table and grabbed his arm by the wrist and gave him a warning look.

He didn’t even turn his head towards you. You relaxed your grip on his arm and stole a bite of chicken off of his plate with a smirk.

You were aching for his fingers by now, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, so you attempted to awkwardly cross your legs and continue talking to Tom.

Harrison discreetly slipped his hand in between your legs and pushed them back apart, fingers tensing when they felt how wet you already were. He glanced at you for a split second before going back to his meal, continuing to tease you with his free hand.

You tried not to writhe in your seat as he played you like a fiddle underneath the table and bit back a moan as he gently nudged your clit with his thumb. As quickly as his fingers had been where you needed them most they were gone and you whined in protest.

“Fuck. You,” you whispered hoarsely, wondering how worked up you looked to everyone at the table.

Hopefully, they’d attribute the flush across your features as too much champagne and the darkness in your eyes to…. fuck you didn’t know you just hoped they couldn’t tell.

You continued to glare at your boyfriend until he finally leaned over and whispered in your ear, “if you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning?”

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from cursing at your lovely boyfriend, knowing he’d only make it worse for you if you did.

Instead, you turned back to your food, not that you were very hungry now. In fact, your pasta didn’t look appetizing at all anymore, not when you’d rather have something else in your mouth. But you chewed on the cardboard tasting noodles anyway, admiring the newlyweds as they danced to some Ed Sheeran song.

Harrison’s hand made its way back up your thigh until he was right there, pushing two fingers inside of you, and slowly began pumping them in and out of you at an excruciating pace. You gripped the table hard, trying to keep a straight face as he fingered you in front of your friends.

“You’re so sexy when you’re all hot and bothered,” Haz whispered hotly in your ear.

“Did you seriously just say ‘hot and bothered’?” you muttered back.

“You want me to stop?” He asked, stilling his fingers inside of you.

You whimpered quietly and tried grinding up against his hand to get some relief, but he resisted, pulling his hand back completely.

“You’re really gonna make me beg for it?” You hissed, snapping at him in frustration.

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” he whispered back, giving you a sickeningly sweet smile.

You rolled your eyes. “Please.”

Harrison leaned down and tapped his ear. “Sorry, what did you say? I know for a fact you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.”

“Please,” you repeated a little louder, but not loud enough for the other people at the table to hear.

Harrison was more than happy to comply this time and reinserted his fingers with ease, this time using his thumb to massage your clit and you made a noise that sounded like it was something in between a cough and a moan. Everyone looked up at you and you sunk down in your chair in embarrassment.

Tom narrowed his eyes suspiciously at you from across the table. “You sure you’re alright?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

“She’s just a bit feverish,” Harrison replied for you without stopping. “She wasn’t feeling well before we came, but she wanted to be here for the wedding. I think I’ll get her home now, though,” he decided and removed his hand from between your legs, wiping it on the napkin on his lap and pulling your dress back down in several quick motions. “Come on, love,” he said and helped you up from your chair, which was probably a good thing because you thought your legs might buckle beneath you if you tried to walk.

A chorus of “hope you feel better”s and “get well soon”s was heard from around the table and you thanked your friends before allowing Harrison to lead you away with his hand on the small of your back, not missing the suspicious glance Tom gave you as you went.

Back in the coat closet, Harrison looked you up and down with renewed desire. He was obviously hard in his slacks, though the black fabric hid it well. He began unbuttoning his pants and you raised your eyebrows.

“Here?”

“Unless you don’t want to,” he shrugged.

You were so desperate for him by now you weren’t sure if you could wait another second.

“No, no I want to,” you exclaimed a little too loudly and Harrison chuckled.

You began to wiggle out of your dress before he held out his hand to stop you again and you struggled not to cry in frustration.

“Leave it on,” he rasped and you understood. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you all night.”

“I think I have some sort of idea,” you teased, eyeing the erection in his boxers.

“You think you’re funny.”

“I know I’m funny. Now can we get this show on the road, before people actually start needing their coats?”

“The cake hasn’t even been served, darling, just admit how bad you want me too.”

“I thought it was obvious,” you quipped back, “from that little game you played at dinner.”

Harrison’s eyes twinkled. “Come here, y/n,”

You cautiously stepped toward him until he was close enough to pull you into an embrace. He kissed you deeply then pulled back and smirked. “I’d hold on to something if I were you.”

1k celebration

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Hi! 🦇 Friendly reminder about your AU Lucy Westenra plot (context: My KMG characters who deserved better ask where you mentioned the plot in the replies). 🦇😊 I'm actually about to go on holiday for under a week, so please feel no rush with sharing it. I'd be honored to read it some time. You've quite the way with words. 😄🌸🌷🌹🥀🌻🌼🌺 Hope you have a lovely day/night, friend.

((this is a long one! more under the cut))

((cw for abusive 19th Century mental health institutions and unhappy coming out stories, but also for badass lesbians living their true lives))

In my version, the show diverges shortly after Lucy is manipulated into confessing her feelings for Mina, both to Mina herself and to her parents. Her parents react horribly to what Lucy confesses about her feelings for women, and have her committed to the facility run by Mina’s father.

Dr. Murray is kind, and progressive for his time. After the requisite intake interview, he determines that Lucy isn’t mad at all. When Mina comes to him, panicked upon finding out what had happened to her friend, he tells her that Lucy’s feelings are as natural as the love between a man and a woman. It is not an illness, or a psychosis.

(As an aside, Dr. Murray remarks how brave Lucy must have been to confess the truth to her family-- or anyone, for that matter, given how averse society is to anything that is different. At that, Mina starts to feel badly at how she’d reacted.)

Despite nothing being wrong with her, Dr. Murray lets her remain in his facility, where she is treated well and Mina visits everyday. They start to rebuild their friendship, and heal from their recent rift, but Lucy’s family starts getting impatient when little progress is made. Despite Dr. Murray’s warnings that her parents likely will not accept her homosexuality, Lucy refuses to pretend otherwise, refuses to conform. Bolstered by what Lady Jayne had said to her/made her feel, and with Mina’s renewed faith in her, she staunchly refuses to get married asap as her father demands.

Dr. Murray tries to explain to Lucy’s parents, but they refuse to believe their daughter is healthy. After a time, when they realize Mina has been visiting so often, they wonder whether Lucy’s friendship with Mina is what “corrupted” her. They remove Lucy from the Murrays’ care and admit her to another, less savory institution.

The new facility is cold, and dark-- visiting hours are shorter, and farther between. Mina tries to visit as often as she can, but she’s often restricted from doing so-- according to the people who turn her away, Lucy is often ill, or has refused visitors herself, or lost privileges for reasons unknown.

The few times Mina does get to visit her, Lucy seems less and less like herself. She loses her vivacity, and says very little. She grows pale and withdrawn, and during their final visit, Lucy breaks down and confesses her fear of remaining in that facility even one more day, begs for Mina’s help. Mina vows to act, even as the orderlies come to end their visit early.

Mina immediately goes to Jonathan for help. She shares everything, from the change in Lucy to the way the asylum has restricted their visitation, to the bruises she’s noticed on Lucy’s wrists and the orderly she recognized who used to work for her father (and was fired for being too rough with the patients). Jonathan listens to it all, and then takes Mina by the hand and tells her there’s nothing they can do.

Lucy is unmarried, he reminds her, and as such her care is at the discretion of her family.

Horrified by his lack of compassion, Mina runs to Alexander. He wastes no time in taking action-- Mina almost has to run to catch up as he returns with her to the asylum to break Lucy out that night. They find her, drugged and with a new bruise staining her cheek. Ignoring the protests of the nurses, then the orderlies, and then the head administrator, Alexander has his man Renfield scoop Lucy up and carry her to their carriage.

They install Lucy in one of the many spare rooms in Alexander’s home, and Mina stays with her as she recovers. When Jonathan comes to find Mina, she sends him away. His lack of compassion that afternoon has made her seriously reconsider their engagement, and for now, her priority is Lucy. She will contact him when she is ready.

Though Lucy’s health returns, her spirit remains tempered by her ordeal. She doesn’t speak much, about anything, though she is gracious and grateful for Mina’s and Alexander’s help. When Lucy’s father learns what happens and comes looking for Lucy, Alexander heads him off at the door. Lucy clings to Mina and listens as her father’s bellow carries down the corridor: Lucy is no longer welcome in their home. The Westenras have no daughter.

Eventually Lady Jayne learns what happened. She calls on Lucy, both out of guilt and in genuine concern. To her surprise, when Lucy harbors no anger for Jayne’s role in what happened to her. Lucy instead speaks at length for the first time, and confesses that while she knows Jayne manipulated her for reasons she can’t discern, Lucy is still grateful to her.

Whatever Jayne’s reasons for manipulating Lucy that day, their time together helped Lucy come to terms with who she was. She had plenty of chances to earn her freedom-- she could have denounced her nature, claimed to have been mistaken, gone home and married her current suitor posthaste. But because Jayne had validated her feelings for Mina, shown her the life she could have, and what true happiness might look like, Lucy remained true to herself and refused to be shackled to a life of being nothing more than a man’s wife.

Jayne regrets her part in what happened. But as Lucy speaks, calm and determined and resolute in the choices she made for herself, Jayne sees a spark of something familiar. She offers to teach Lucy how to live independently, how to fight, and live without answering to any man.

Lucy agrees, without hesitation.

She leaves with Jayne that afternoon, and goes to stay with her. As Mina tries to reconcile her failing engagement with Harker and address the strange attraction she feels for Alexander, Lucy learns the way of the hunter. Somewhere between throwing her first punch and holding her first crossbow, the fog of trauma lifts, and in its wake Lucy finds a deep, abiding anger. It lends her an aggression that makes her a quick study, and the moment Jayne treats her as a capable student (and not just as a pretty face, as everyone else in her life has ever done), Lucy begins to flourish.

The next time she and Mina meet, Mina instantly notices the change in her. Lucy has never been demure, but she now carries herself with a new self-assuredness, no longer reaching for the world but letting it to come to her. Her smiles come less easy now, but her charm still oozes from her, in the way she carries herself, in her confidence, and the way she speaks expecting to be heard. Most notably changed is the sharp gleam in her eye, just spoiling for a fight.

And fight she does. She shadows Jayne on her nightly prowls, first as an observer and then an active participant. They make a good team, and before long they are nearly equals, close friends and sometimes lovers (though never romantic partners). One night, however, one of their vampiric opponents throws Lucy off-kilter-- the orderly who had once worked for Mina’s father, turned only a short time ago. He gets away in the moment of Lucy’s hesitation, but it gives them the unexpected chance to follow him back to his lair…

Which turns out to be the very asylum Mina had helped Lucy escape. The place is crawling with vamps, mingling with innocent patients. With the help of other hunters, they clear out the place, sneaking the human patients out to the safety of Dr. Murray’s facility, while sealing the inhuman occupants inside. They torch the entire building, and Lucy watches with Lady Jayne at her side as vampires scream and perish within.

They don’t save everyone. Some of the recent turns had been patients-- people Lucy had met during her brief stay. While she would hesitate to call them friends, they were victims, and Lucy’s empathy extends to them readily. She resents that they were so vulnerable, that no one noticed that evil had taken hold in that building long before the vampires came. Anger coils inside her, hot and volatile.

The Hunters officially accept Lucy into their ranks that night, and share what their true purpose had been, when they allied with the Order of the Dragon centuries ago. So with a belly full of righteous anger and the full might of her fellow Hunters at her disposal, Lucy Westenra sets her sights on Dracula.

A/N: This was my first blush story arc, and having spent time tidying it up for blog purposes, I’m now wondering whether the asylum bit is necessary. I mean, it’s certainly not outside the realm of historical realism, but I’m asking myself whether another lesbian being treated poorly is the story we need to see, so that part is open to change. 

The important part is that instead of Jayne being a horrendous bitch and then dying, she takes baby-lesbian Lucy under her wing and teaches her to spit in the face of contemporary convention by being a kick ass Huntress. It also brings Lucy back into the Dracula arc again, on her own terms.