#this is absolutely fucking sickening and don’t you ever forget

[bruciemilf]

The more I’m hearing about the situation in Gaza, the more disgusted and disturbed I am by the sheer, shameless inhumanity Israel displays daily.

Some few out of many, many, many, many exemples of what Israel did so far:

Dumped gallons of salt over water supplies so Palestinian people cannot safely drink from it

Israeli soldiers filmed themselves torturing a disabled man, stealing belongings of deceased and captive Palestinians, mocking and sexually assaulting Palestinian women, and many more

Bombed an entire hospital full of babies. Babies.

Murdered Hadiya Nassar, a Palestinian woman older than their joke of a state, by sniping her off a roof, simply because she stated a fact.

Threw a woman off a 5 story building just because

Kept the dead bodies of Palestinian prisoners on ice so they could serve their full sentences. Even AFTER they died. Some remains kept for up to 40 years. So they wouldn’t return these people to their families

Produced “Dead Palestinian Baby” dolls as a children’s toy. The toy comes with small bags for “limbs”

We must keep in mind that while genocide is entirely a product of politics, and a form of systematic oppression, we are truly witnesses to hatred. THIS is what hatred is, and this is what it does. When someone asks you how hatred looks like, tell them it looks like Israel.

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons plus little bonus part 2 electric boogaloo

After Nimona found out about Ambrosius' allergies they demanded to test every single meal he eats 

They’ll take the plate away from him and have a test bite and only after they deem it “safe” will they let him eat it

Doesn’t matter if they're out eating or at home she does this every time 

He can literally say “Nim Bal made this for me it’s not gonna have anything I’m allergic to” and she’ll respond with “You don’t know that he could finally be sick of you and the only thing saving you is me” 

Ambrosius and Bal will share literally everything they eat 

Whenever they go out they’ll usually order something they know they’ll both like 

And if they know the other one is between two options they’ll just order one of the options and share both meals 

It’s a pretty normal thing that they’ve been doing since they were kids so they don’t even question it anymore 

Nimona jokingly calls it sickening as she steals food off their plates 

No one in the trio is neurotypical 

Bal is autistic Ambrosius has ADHD Nimona is a mix of both

Talking to these dorks is absolute hell

It’s kind of like the interrogation scene except it’s not one topic 

They often get sidetracked and lose the plot of the conversation 

They’ll have 10 different conversations at once and only finish like 5

Bal forgets a whole bunch of shit because he has long-term brain damage and Nimona and Ambrosius forget shit cause of the ADHD 

It’s not uncommon for someone to say “Hey remind me to” and then they’ll be cut off by the other person who just says “You know I won’t remember that just put a reminder in your phone” 

Their house is covered to the brim in sticky notes and random pieces of paper for reminders 

The grocery list is on the front door the chore list is in the kitchen and random little tasks are scattered around the house 

When Nimona doesn’t want to do something he’ll just erase his name from that task

He fooled the boys for a while but Bal started keeping score of who did what and when and called his sneaky ass out 

Little bonus part 2 electric boogaloo: this time it’s my sister and my mama and my sister also was acting like I was killing her firstborn not asking her to watch a movie 

Me: “look mama it’s the siblings” my sister: “but they’re gay” me: “yeah but people thought they were siblings” my sister: “if you ever look at me like that I’m calling the cops” (the scene on the catwalk) 

“Yeah you better cheer” (when Bal was getting knighted)

“I knew something was wrong with the sword” “So did Bal” “Yeah but I knew first”

Apparently both my Mama and my sister didn’t know that Ambrosius cut off Bal’s arm so I got to see both of their reactions 

This was my Mama’s “damn what happened to being a lover not a fighter” “he’s a knight Mama” “Who cares!!” 

This was my sister's “Wow really took the whole arm huh?” “That’s how they were trained” “And?” 

My mama was talking to my sister when Nimona met Bal “Who does that remind you of?” “Roo” “Exactly”

 “Oh look it’s tiny dick!” (Talking about Todd) 

“What a fucking bitch” (when she found out the director swapped the sword) 

This was when Bal and Ambrosius were fighting Me: “Is there anything gayer than having an argument in the middle of a sword fight” My mama: “They’ll fight with their other swords later” 

“Who fucking asked” “bla bla bla I’m a racist bitch” (when the Director went on her monologue in the office)

She saw Ambrosius’ username and laughed for like two minutes straight

After the sword fight my sister would pretend like Bal and Ambrosius were making out every time they were on screen together 

“Because I love you *making out noises*” at the tavern 

“Oh there’s their third wheel (Todd)” “Nah he’s racist as fuck” “Who isn’t in the institute?”

When Ambrosius tried to stop the director she said this is what he meant “No you can’t set off the laser that’s my kid!” (She believes the trio is a family too) 

“Awe they’re hugging *more making out noises*” 

She called it cute in the end and I made fun of her for bitching about it

I asked my sister who her favorite is and she says “what’s his name balls?” I started cackling my ass off and she goes “I’m joking I know his name is Ballister and he’s still my favorite”

[eddies-artofsuffering]

[An abridged excerpt☕️ feat. Steddie & Jargyle]

Eddie spends the entire morning telling Jonathan and Argyle about the date with Steve.

Or rather, the not-date. Whatever.

It was sweet, Eddie reports. Bless Argyle for timidly asking what 'sweet' entails, obviously trying not to pry too much. Jonathan is inscrutable as usual, but he too is gagging to hear it, Eddie can tell. Tricksy little bastardses.

So he complies, of course, and gives them the rundown in between grinding up the beans, tamping, and taking the orders. How gentle Steve was the whole night, how beautiful he was. No, they didn't go to Pound Town, Argyle, shut the fuck up, this is love we’re talking about! Eddie’s in love, okay?

“How do you know?” Argyle asks (after grumbling for a minute about how a trip to Pound Town and being in love aren’t mutually exclusive).

“Know what?”

“That it’s love.”

Jonathan doesn’t miss a beat, facing his boyfriend. “How did you know?” And it’s Argyle’s turn to say, “Know what?”

“That you were in love with me. How did you know, Argyle?”

“I don’t know? I just knew!”

“Fine,” Jonathan rolls his eyes, handing over a drink to a customer (who’s looking absolutely invested in this conversation, nosey as hell) with a tight-lipped smile. “When did you know?”

“I can’t pinpoint that!” Ha, he's so in trouble. It’s so uncharacteristic for Argyle to be panicking like this. Eddie can’t stop cackling. “Jonny, you know it was easy as breathing to fall in love with you, right?”

“Yea? Well, I can pinpoint the moment.” Jonathan’s gaze is somewhere above all of them, somewhere high to the left, and his soft smile is growing. Looking very much like a forgetful granddad reminiscing about his pre-war sweetheart for the 19th time before lunch. “It was early. We weren’t really together by then. We were about to order pizza. That night was the first time you admitted to me that your favourite pizza topping was pineapple, remember? And how everyone gives you so much shit for loving it, how they call it a freak choice. You looked so shy but like, indignant about this-” (Jonathan trembles a little; context clues say he’s overwhelmed with fondness, but he looks as though he’s seething) “-which, I had just told you that I wasn’t a fan of, either. And you still told me about it. And then you said something that I’d never forget.”

“Hm? What did I say?”

“‘I know it’s not for everyone, but you make me feel good about my choice,” Jonathan recites, blinking slowly. The next customer in line gasps and claps a hand over her mouth, forgetting to take out her credit card, engrossed in the story. The iPad POS system continues to scream for sweet mercy as Jonathan takes a step closer, gently grabbing Argyle’s hand. “What you said stayed with me because that’s how you made me feel about everything I like. You still do. I just couldn’t believe that you felt the same.”

Argyle squeezes their joined hands. “Yea, dude, I remember now. I just wanted to spend time with you ‘cause the only one I could really relax with. I didn’t really need pineapple. Or pizza, even, at all. You were what I wanted.”

“Yea, that’s what you said then too.” Jonathan’s normally-inexplicable face is a lot more explicable now. That is a sickening pair of heart eyes if Eddie’s ever seen one. “I didn’t want you to change for me, Argyle. Just wanted you to be comfortable telling me what you want. Felt so lucky that you could feel that way around me.”

“But you hate pineapple on your pizza.”

“Well, you love it. The point is, I was willing to give it a second chance for you. And I had this trust - that you wouldn’t like me any less if I hated it,” Jonathan chuckles softly. “You made me feel like it was okay to just be myself. That’s when I knew it was love, because - I knew I couldn’t be everyone’s first choice, but I wanted to be yours. I wanted to be your pineapple. Your freak choice.”

“Broseph,” Argyle chokes, now tearing up, ignoring Eddie’s groans. He doesn’t even move out of the way when Eddie snatches the credit card out of the POS and hands it to the customer, who is now dabbing the corners of her eyes. The fuck. 

“Never call me that again,” Jonathan rasps, equally as teary. “I’ll always order another pie just for you.”

“Can I change my answer? I want that to be my moment too - I mean, I knew I was in love with you before that, but that is so damn romantic, dude, I love you so much, what are you doing to me-”

Uh, hello?? This was supposed to be Eddie’s moment about Steve?! He’s not even done yet with the debrief!! That Eddie’s ready to get hurt again if something goes south, but there’s no indication that anything is wrong at the moment, which is pretty frightening in and of itself. It’s insane how comfortable it feels!! Don’t you wanna hear?!

It’s clear they no longer give a shit, now totally in their weird little bubble, just standing close with their foreheads touching, furiously whispering something unintelligible to each other. Fucking lovebirds. Eddie rolls his eyes.

The door chimes at that moment, and before Eddie even looks over at the entrance, he instinctively knows it’s noon and that it’s Steve at the door. He remembers belatedly, that in the midst of flustered chaos and his coworkers’ revolting love confessions, he’s forgotten to make Steve’s little drink and put away the blueberry crumble. Oops.

Indeed, when Eddie checks the time, it is 12 o’clock sharp. Punctual fuckin’ bastard. Clockwork. 

Read the unabridged version on Ao3

[thedawnofcrime]

I had already written out a long post that probably breaks Tumblr’s TOS, so I’ll shorten it up a bit.

If you aren’t already aware, Brianna Ghey, a 16 year old trans girl, was brutally stabbed by two 15 year old kids near Manchester England this week.

These children, one girl one boy, are monsters for what they did, and as a 16 year old trans girl myself, I say with little exaggeration that I would have both of them locked away in a 4x4x4 foot box for the rest of their pitiful lives (not what I initially wrote). However that would not solve the problem here. The problem here is that grown, vile excuses for humans, are telling these kids it’s okay to brutally murder their peers if they are in a minority they don’t like.

In place of a long rant about how sickening these people are, I’d like to jump to my call-to-action. If you are witness to a journalist, activist, politician, or other powerful person telling their audience the lies that got Brianna Ghey stabbed, I implore you to do whatever you can to show that they aren’t welcome on Earth, and that we don’t want them here.

If you don’t mind getting fined, spit in their ugly faces, spray them with cold water in the middle of winter, yell obscenities at them through a loudspeaker directly into their ears, throw a bucket of pigs blood on them. If they can knowingly get children killed, then they can take a little abuse.

If you don’t want to get arrested, then harass them through social media and email, every day you can. Don’t just send “you suck, kill yourself”, as these awful people probably get that every day. Instead send them links and statistics. Hard, undeniable proof that what they say can make children murder other children, or far more likely, have innocent kids kill themselves. I don’t care if they’re a primary school teacher. I don’t care if they’re a single mom. I don’t care if they run a charity food drive. You cannot be truly good, while contributing to the murders of children.

I live in a rather safe neighbourhood as far as this horrible type of discrimination goes, but I can’t just ignore all the horrible things that happen to trans youth around the world. I will not let people forget about the children they’ve killed until the day I’m rotting in the cold damp ground. If you ever receive the opportunity to tell an influential transphobe, racist, whatever, that they are responsible for the deaths of hundreds of innocent children, do it. Anything to convince them even slightly, that they are doing something wrong.

Edit: never mind, fuck TOS. If I were given the legal opportunity to decide the punishment of those two kids who murdered Brianna Ghey, I’d have them formally executed by fatal injection. Leading up to this date they’d be put in a windowless cell where they can’t know the day or time. The press claims that there isn’t sufficient proof to label this as a hate crime, though I think any dumbass with some semblance of common sense or empathy can deduce that this was rooted in a vile hatred of transgender people. So yes, I’d absolutely put these fuckers through psychological torture for that. It’s sickening to think they’re the same age as most people in my grade, and decided to stab and kill a girl of their own free will.

[ex0rin]

Whumpcember 2022 - Day 12

2014 -

2024 -

gifs are mine!

@whumpcember Day 12: Broken bone John Walker, Bucky Barnes - 660 words broken bones, past trauma

Bucky doesn’t care.

He really, really doesn’t care. 

But he remembers.

Confused and exhausted, injured and broken –

He remembers walking away from the burning Triskelion –

He can never forget the blue and red flashing lights and the ache in his chest and legs and arms; the smoke in his lungs, the taste of fire on his tongue and the line of pain radiating up from his elbow to his shoulder, down from there to his wrist - the strange way his bones tried to patch back together because of the serum, because of the experimentation that enabled his healing. 

Bucky thinks about Walker and hates that the other man even crosses his mind – 

He gets less than three blocks away from the abandoned trainyard where he and Sam forcibly took the shield back from Walker before he turns around – Steve’s shield, though he can’t think about that for too long without his breath hitching and his eyes watering; even though they discussed it, it was never truly real until Steve didn’t appear back on that platform in front of him, decision made.

Final.

Forever.

He hates that he cares about this. 

By all rights he should leave Walker suffering with the serum new and pumping through his veins and an elbow shattered, but he remembers – 

Bucky knows what it was like to walk away with no handler, disoriented with a failed mission and the muscles and tendons in his arm stretching and shifting and fixing themselves without him even knowing – 

He remembers the pain of having to catch his wrist between his ankles and bend his body back hard and sudden enough to shatter the bone again himself; it wasn’t the first or third time he tried, his body shaking and his teeth clenched around the leather of one of his torn off uniform buckles - he dislocated his shoulder twice before sobbing brokenly through the final break. 

He makes it back to the warehouse to find Sam gone (The Shield with him) and Walker curled in on himself against one of the pillars within - the other man having been left bleeding, swearing under his breath; Bucky's improved hearing catches the hitch of his breath, the sound so close to all the ones Bucky has made before – 

“Walker,” he starts, not realizing how rough and hard his own voice still sounds; he’s still absolutely fucking furious and there’s nothing that can change that now, “look, you’re new to this whole serum thing, I get it,” he tries, wincing again at his tone (this isn't how you help people says a voice in his head) - Walker flinches noticeably and looks up, those blue eyes blown all the way to black with how huge his pupils have gotten from the fight.

From the pain and violence and adrenaline.

Bucky's been there before.

“If you don’t want to listen to me, that’s fine but,” Bucky continues and there must be something else broken inside of Walker (other than his arm) because he just sits there, tears in his eyes and watching Bucky while cradling his elbow close to his chest, “you need to set it now, if you don’t you’ll have to break it again.”

Bucky pauses, close enough that if he wanted he could reach out and help –

Not that he will. 

“It’s already healing, you need to set it.” he says again and if there’s pity in his voice he does nothing at all to hide it; Walker made this choice – the choice to take the serum – and it’s on him now. 

He turns away without even getting an answer, walking back towards the big open doors on the other side of the warehouse; he did what he could, more than he should, and the rest of it is up to Walker. 

He hears the sickening crunch of two bones realigning and the rough, bitten back scream from Walker before he’s back out into daylight.

It's more kindness than anyone ever gave him.

[imtherainbownow]

I think I need help mentally

I’m warning everyone now, this is a post that will contain dark themes (mostly related to eating and mental issues), if you are sensitive to the topics, I advise you don’t read.

To keep things simple; My life is shit. Mentally at least.

Physically and externally my life couldn’t be more perfect. I have supporting parents. I go to a Great School. I have friends. I’ve got talents that can take me places. Ive got everything lined up for my success.

but mentally I am a disaster. Ive got such bad trauma from authority figures. Im scared to even defy my fucking teachers. Im scared of my aunt because she makes me feel so shitty. My aunt will pop up a lot in this because I see her as the main source of a shit ton of my issues

I cannot read or hear the word scu*c*de without having flashbacks. Even as I type this I’m trying not to hear her damn voice. Just screaming that word at me every time. It’s so loud..

My aunt judges me constantly for the littlest things. Like forgetting to pick up trash, forgetting to say thank you, not remembering if it’s my turn to empty the dishwasher, etc. She’s the main reason why I’ve contemplated going completely mute because she hates it when I talk and makes sure I know.

Recently she’s been nit-picking my eating habits. For almost two years I’ve been struggling to remember to eat at all because my adhd meds reduce my appetite so I just don’t eat lunch. Unfortunately it’s bled into other meals like breakfast and dinner.

Even remembering to eat is an accomplishment for me. In the current moment I don’t care if it’s healthy, I care that I remembered to put food in my body.

About a week ago she grumbled about me not eating “real” food and that I’m the reason we don’t have good snacks in our house. I’m about to cry as I type this. I doubt she thought I could hear her because I had headphones in, but nothing playing. I absolutely heard her.

I’ve told my mother so many times that I want her to move out but my mother won’t do shit. My mother’s been making my eating habits worse cause she won’t let me leave the house without eating at least something, but it’s only been discouraging me from eating. Nowadays even the thought of eating feels slightly sickening. Especially if I’m eating in front of my aunt.

I want nothing to do with her. But she lives with me and I can’t evict her. I’m so sick of this. My anxiety and adhd already make my daily life hard enough during school. And now I’m struggling to even fathom the thought of food because of my aunt. She’s made my life worse and she won’t accept that she can be a problem too. She only ever sees the flaws in me and my twin. Never in herself. I want to fight back but I’m so scared that she’ll yell at me again. That she’ll force me to sit back on the couch and yell in my face. I don’t want to relive that. I don’t know what to do anymore..

I just want help.. and I can’t get it. I don’t want to tell my therapist because he wont believe me. He’s already made it clear I can’t talk to him about my problems with speaking after a sensory overload or panic attack because It’s so exhausting to force myself to talk in a place I don’t feel safe. I don’t think it would be safe to be able to tell him about my problems with eating either. I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless. I have no support that I feel comfortable telling about this. Im scared.. scared of my aunt. Scared of what she’ll do if she finds out how much I hate her. My life looks perfect but I am a mess. And I don’t have the power to fix it. If anyone has any advice, any at all, I would be so grateful. I just want help. That’s all really..

[crazymisscarly]

All of them for the ask writing game!

also from @middleagedresidentofriverdale

Wellllllll since you peeps asked nicely ;)

deep fic writer asks

1. what’s the fic you’re most proud of? I’ll Never Stop Loving You definitely takes the cake for that one.

2. what’s a fic that took you to an emotional/dark/hard place? Tapes of Us - I based Jughead’s gunshot wound and resulting treatment on some personal experience with feeding tubes. My best friend is a registered nurse and was tube fed for years due to Gastroparesis and she helped me a lot with the terminology and understanding what would happen if someone was actually shot in the stomach and needed a feeding tube. I’ve also seen the way people responded to her feeding tube and am well versed in how that experience affected her, and still affects her to this day. She’s a gem, just saying, and she was always open to helping me write accurate information about feeding tubes and the medical processes - she’s passionate about raising awareness and I’ll be honest, this story arc affected me emotionally.

3. what fic are you emotionally attached to? Our Story’s Not Over and Tapes of Us - I couldn’t choose out of the two of these.

4. what fic of your own do you read for comfort? Literally anything from my Season 5 AU Series.

5. what fic of your own won’t you read? The absolute cringefest Twilight fanfiction sequel I wrote when I was 13. I do sometimes read the first chapters of my first “book” for a laugh though.

6. what’s the hardest part of the writing process for you? Staying on track. I have ADHD and was only diagnosed with it five months ago. I will go months and sometimes years without writing anything substantial, and then other times I can sit for 11 hours straight and write non-stop (like I did today for my Choni fanfic lol). It is definitely not healthy hahahaha

7. how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you? It’s a little disappointing when I don’t see much interaction with my fanfics on Ao3, but it pales in comparison to the excitement I feel when people post comments or message me privately about a chapter update. I’m always thrilled with feedback, even the one time I got a comment that verbatim said: “What the fuck”

8. does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone? Lots of people know. Some find it a ridiculous quirk, some think it’s awesome, but most of my closer friends and relatives just wish I’d finish writing my original stories lol.

9. what’s your writing process like? I will get an idea and type it up in my notes so I don’t forget about it. Then, usually I have an overwhelming urge to write the entire story. This is why some of my chapters are 40k words. When I start writing sometimes I physically can’t stop until my head hurts and I’m ready to pass out. If I’m in the writing zone, everything else takes a back burner. Sometimes I have to finish what I’m writing before I can do real world tasks because it’s like an obsession for me. As soon as I finish a chapter I edit and post it immediately. If I don’t finish editing I’ll literally pass out mid-edit: this is usually when I am laying in bed with my chapter update open in Ao3. When I either post it, or wake up and post it, I wait a few hours and edit it again.

10. how has writing positively impacted your mental health or overall mood? I think it’s given me a lot of confidence in my writing abilities. Seeing people’s positive feedback really fluffs my feathers. I love writing and I love that other people love my writing, but I honestly write most fanfics for my own amusement. I’m glad other people seem to like what they see.

11. Has a fic you’ve written ever caused issues/controversy? Mmm not exactly, but should I ever publish something original and somehow FanFiction.net has survived, I definitely fear that I’ll get cancelled as an author for the sickening cringe I wrote as a teenager. I was very very uninformed about literally everything and what I wrote back then was NOT ideal. Also, I had one person in my anons recently popping off about my portrayal of teacher Jughead’s backlash from parents for writing erotic fiction and its movie adaption (see: Jordan Jones fic). I guess that’s controversy, but I just found it hilarious.

12. What’s your perfect environment to create/write? In my bedroom just vibing. Quite often in the midnight hours. I usually require coffee and procrastination of something important to really get motivated.

13. Do you take pride in your writing, or does it embarrass you? Why? I think I take pride in it now that I can objectively (and egotistically) say my writing is decent. Ten years ago I was embarrassed because I wrote a few swear words and created a few dodgy sex scenes (16 year old me was a menace) and I was scared my mum would find out 😂😂

14. Do you compare yourself to other writers? In a positive or negative way? Both ways I think. It’s not so much a comparison to other writers as a comparison between my writing style and the writing style I see in a fanfic or book. When I read I usually try to immerse myself in that world; usually in published books I’ll read something and think: hmmm if this was published I can probably write something publishable. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for the future - but in most cases the educator in me is just happy to see other people writing, because the more you write the better your writing gets.

15. How do you think your writing has improved over time? Holy shit is this a great question. When I first started writing I was spitting out dumpster fires. I’d be happy to share some of my old fanfics with people privately if you want proof lol. My world building has gotten a lot better, as has my dialogue. When I was 13 I thought I was amazing, now I know I’m a better writer but I still have a long way to go skill-wise.

16. Do you re-read old fics? Is there a time in your writing you won’t go back to? I sure do! I re-read all the fics I’ve posted on Ao3. I don’t really re-read my old fanfics on FanFiction.net but sometimes it’s nice to see how far I’ve come. Just for personal validation reasons.

17. What’s the best engagement/interaction/feedback you’ve received from someone who’s read your work? There’s too many writers on tumblr who have given me some great feedback or support, so it’s hard to choose. But there is a writer who commented on my Choni fanfic about something I’d written in my Notes that she pointed out was a bit offensive, and I genuinely appreciated it because I didn’t realise it came across that way. That was helpful because I absolutely hate offending people 😂

18. Do you only write when you’re inspired, or do you try and sit down at specific times and write no matter what? Inspired isn’t the right word - I write when I physically can’t do anything else. Like I said, I’m obsessed with writing. I can’t schedule it, it just happens.

19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include? I’ve already written it - Our Story’s Not Over included the snippets of things I liked from Season 5 of Riverdale and gave me the opportunity to retcon the shit I hated. That’s the best thing about fanfiction, the ability to say: Nope I hate that, let me change it.

20. What’s the greatest gift you’ve gotten from your writing? That is extremely difficult to answer. I’m not sure I even have an answer. But I will say I’ve enjoyed being able to connect with other writers, particularly on tumblr. And just knowing that what I write has a positive impact on strangers is really a joy.

[bittermarrow]

Slashers reacting to an S/O that beats the absolute shit out of an escaped victim who tried attacking them or tried taking them as a hostage.

a/n: this ask automatically caught my attention because there’s nothing I love more than bamf readers in fanfics. i was gonna add more characters but these were getting long, but you’re more than welcome to request this prompt for other characters too!

CHARACTERS : THOMAS HEWITT, PENNYWISE

WARNINGS : FEM!READER, MURDER IN SELF-DEFENSE, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE.

THOMAS HEWITT

You were washing the dishes in the kitchen when it happened, blissfully unaware of the escaped victim clambering into the room bloodied and full of adrenaline. You had your headphones on and plugged into your little cassette player in your back pocket, dancing around in your little jean shorts, humming and mouthing the words. They noticed your nonchalance and as they heard heavy footsteps following behind them, they took their chance.

You yelped as a bloody hand smacked over your mouth and a knife was held to your throat, you struggled as you’re dragged away from the sink.

Monty, who’d been sitting at the table, starts yelling for help. You didn’t even know he cared like that, humbled by the geezer’s concern for your well-being.

“Charlie! Charlie help! Get that damn boy in here! Help!” the crippled man shouts.

“S-Shut the hell up before I slit her fucking throat!”

As you recover from your surprise and realize the situation, anger bubbles hotly inside you, eyes narrowing and your fingers clenching around the fork you’d been washing. You jab the fork right into the victim’s thigh and he shouts in pain, hand loosening around your mouth just enough for you to clamp your teeth down on his fingers. You jam your elbow into his ribs once, twice, thrice until he lets you go.

You don’t waste any time sending a harsh punch to his jaw, a harsh crack following your blow as blood gushed from his lips. You kick him to the ground with surprising force and kick the knife from his hand, straddling his waist and reaching for the broom he’d knocked to the floor on his way in. You’re seeing red, adrenaline pumping through you like a sickening high, giving you the strength you always forget you have.

When Thomas storms into the room, chainsaw ready to split into the victim's flesh, he finds you on top of the victim, the length of the wooden broom being forced against their throat. He watches in amazement as you mercilessly shove the broom against their throat, crushing their windpipe until their flailing body goes limp. You’re breathing heavily, chest rising and falling rapidly and eyes wide as you release your grip on the broom and lean back, staring down at your handiwork. That felt good.

Your slightly jostled headphones are still playing music, but you hardly hear it now. Your gaze shifts to Thomas’s wide eyes, frozen in place, chainsaw hanging in one hand. Truth be told he didn’t think you to be so capable, but clearly there were still things he didn’t know about you. His first thought is always to be concerned for you though, so the chainsaw hits the floor and he crosses the room in a few long strides to kneel beside you.

Your wild eyes melt into a look of affection, and you reach your arms out for him. Thomas leans into your arms and you throw them around his neck, hoisting you up and off the victim’s body. Once your feet are on the ground you shake off his worried hands that check for injuries.

“M’fine, Tommy they were too busy getting the stuffing beat out of them to hurt me.” You hear the rumbling murmur of a laugh sound deep in his chest and grin.

“I ain’t ever saw a girlie fight like that, you best be careful with that one’s temper boy.” Monty snorts from the table, rousing a laugh from you. You’d forgotten he was even there in your rage.

Thomas is proud of you for taking down someone all on your own. Also rests a bit easier knowing that you aren’t a delicate flower and can defend yourself if needed. It doesn’t make him any less protective or concerned for your safety, but he’s comforted knowing you won’t be a helpless victim.

PENNYWISE

Walking home alone in Derry was never the best idea considering the type of people living there. There’s always some prick and his goons wanting to pick a fight for apparently no reason. And yet here you are doing just that with only an umbrella keeping you safe from the heavy rain as you walk home from work.

You hear the heavy footsteps long before you start to believe you’re being followed. Hyperaware of what could become of this, you speed up, eyes searching for a quick escape. You wished you’d looked better before ducking into an alley because now you were faced with a dead end. You turn to backtrack and freeze when you see three men blocking the way.

Anxiety swirls in your belly and your eyes search the men for weapons. Only one is armed, a bowie glinting in the moonlight. Your eyes narrow as they start to close in. You take a few steps back and close your umbrella, letting the rain mix with your makeup as it drips down your face.

Your eyes are steel as they approach.

“What’s a little lady like you doing out here all by yourself at this hour?” One guy asks, sneering.

“Back off and none of you creeps get hurt.” You threaten, not in the mood for pointless verbal foreplay.

Your witty response earns you snickers, but your expression doesn’t crack.

“Aw darlin’ just stay quiet an’ cooperate and this’ll go nice an’ smooth.”

The moment a hand grabs your wrist your umbrella meets his face with a sickening crack, followed by mucky water being splashed in his face by your boot. Another man lunges to restrain you but is stopped by a knee in the groin, left sputtering when you jam the handle of the umbrella into the side of his skull and kick him away from you. The third guy doesn’t even make it to you, silenced as his jugular is torn out by a monstrous jaw.

You don’t even realize that Pennywise is there in the heat of the moment. You drop the umbrella and put your fists up, backing one guy into a wall and punching him repeatedly in the face until his nose and lips burst. The second grabs your ankle and tries to drag you down to the ground but you spin and kick him straight in the face. You reach into your purse for your knuckle brace and slip it over your fingers, wasting no time in beating the living daylights out of the guy you’d been punching before. Blood spatters on you from behind as the clown starts tearing into the man that grabbed your ankle but you pay it no second thought.

If these men thought they’d make easy prey of you they’d pay dearly for it. You’re doing the rest of the women in Derry a favor.

You keep the hits coming until the face of the prick is unrecognizable and you stumble away from him, breathing heavily as he falls to the pavement, lifeless.

You back up into a hard shape and whirl around, fists swinging before they’re caught by bloodied silk gloves and you’re met with the familiar face of your mate. You calm down immediately, falling against his tall form in exhaustion. Your arms wrap around it, unbothered by the blood as it takes you into his arms and presses you close, the still-potent scent of your fear keeping him on high alert. A mixture of drool and man blood pools over your shoulder in heaps.

“I’m okay, Penny… I’m okay.” You soothe, an affirmation for you as much as it is for him to calm down.

You take in the bloody mess that is left of the three men and know that you aren’t responsible for the missing limbs. Pennywise must have sensed your fear and rushed to your aid, or perhaps he’d been watching you the whole way home and struck when the fight broke out. You were a tough bitch, you knew that, but you knew you wouldn’t have been able to take on three grown men without him.

“Vermin.” The clown spits venomously at their corpses, his eyes glowing bright amber with contempt. “Crushed like worms for touching my mate, back to the dirt where they belong.”

It’s forehead rests against yours and you sigh, makeup smeared all over your face, but you couldn’t care less about appearances at that moment.

“I love you.” You smile, eyes closed, and you hear it purr.

[alycosworld]

Tainted

Scaramouche X Reader

WARNING: mentions of (nearly) sexual assault

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A/N: I seem to have more angst/comfort ideas for genshin but I'm not sure why...also, I'm on holiday in a foreign country! I have no work and I'll probably spend all my nights on Tumblr after exploring the city in the day, so please please please send in some requests! I'm bored and although they might take some time, they might help me get back into writing more regularly. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if I made a mistake, feel free to tell me. This has NOT been checked for any errors (I'll get around to it at some point).

I'm not sure if Scaramouche is ooc, since he doesn't say anything that nice in the game or in any official works, but I definitely think he has the capacity for it. And I like soft Scar <3.

If at any point you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE DO NOT READ ON. I felt a little icky after writing the assault bit so do not force yourself to read any further or read at all. I do not want to make anyone reading this unhappy. Any victims of sexual assault or harassment, I hope you heal

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Keep walking. Just keep walking. Get home as fast as possible.

Avoid dark spots, avoid all people, avoid secluded areas. Just get home now.

That's what you told yourself after it happened. Archons, you didn't even know how you should feel. Ashamed? Angry? Disgusted? Upset? Confused? Afraid? The amalgamation of these emotions just made everything worse. You felt sick to your stomach. You wanted to cry and scream and vomit and disappear all at the same time.

You felt like you were covered in grime and you don't even know how you managed to get away. You should've done something, anything! But in the moment, you couldn't.

Your day had started normally. You went to the Adventurer's Guild in Inazuma, doing your commissions and taking up a few extra quests to help people out. Even though you were walking home later than normal, you didn't think much of it. Until somehow, you lost your way. In the dark, things became a little more vague and confusing, so you ended up taking a left and ending up in a dark alleyway between two dimly lit buildings.

You walked through, lost in your own thoughts, until you heard some chuckling and some incoherent remarks made by someone exiting one of the buildings out a back door and into the alleyway.

Glancing up, you saw that the person was a man - quite tall and well built with flushed cheeks: he was clearly not sober. You paid him no mind, staring at the ground as you continue to walk, determined to get home to see your boyfriend, Scaramouche. Though he wasn't one to worry, knowing that you could handle yourself, you did want to see him as soon as possible.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man asked, and you looked up at him again, tilting your head in confusion but staying silent.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" He asked, a suspicious smirk on his face.

"I'm going home." You said firmly, not wanting to give him any ideas.

"Oh? A handsome young thing like you, going home all by themselves? Let me walk you, I promise I don't bite." He continued, clearly not getting the hint.

"I'm alright, but thank you for the off--"

"Stop being such a fucking tease! Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it." He pinned you against the wall despite your attempt to politely refuse any moves he tried to make. He caught your arms above your head and harshly shoved one of his legs between yours.

"Don't like to me, hon, you know you want this." He whispered huskily. You had fought countless hilichurls, abyss mages and monsters far more intimidating and dangerous than that man that day, but you couldn't seem to move. All you could manage was a fearful 'please, don't do this'. Struggling was futile, for some reason you couldn't escape his grasp. You had fought beasts ten times this man's size but violating you like this? It made you break.

He gripped you harshly and even managed to kiss your neck a couple times, making the tears stream down your face uncontrollably, until he heard some voices. You recognised them immediately: members of the Adventurer's Guild. He must be known it too because he stopped as soon as he heard, offering you a sickening grin and scuttling away before you could react.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You didn't get any help from the Adventurer's Guild members who you heard, instead opting to rush home as soon as possible, trying to figure out what to do next.

The only solution in your mind was to crawl into your lover's arms and tell him what had happened. You didn't want anyone else to know - you know you could trust Scaramouche and you knew he would help you.

But he didn't.

You got home and wiped your tears before entering the house, hoping to look somewhat presentable despite having experienced such an impactful event. You dropped your belongings carelessly, not flinging at the loud sound they made as they hit the floor. You immediately made your way to the guest room Scaramouche had turned into an office of sorts, for him to work on Fatui business. The bedroom door was open and empty and he was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so that was the only other place he could've been. You were relieved to see him sitting at the desk, deep in thought with some maps and other sheets of paper laid out in front of him.

"Scar, I--"

"Not now, (Y/N), I'm busy." He said hot even bothering to look up at your frazzled and shattered state.

"I know but, please, Scar. While I was--"

"If you know that I'm busy, why enter in the first place? I'm working. Leave me alone." He said harshly. You didn't say anything, instead opting to nod silently and close the door. Since this was the first time you had experienced this pain and discomfort from being touched and defiled in such a way, you decided that maybe you should put it aside. After all, maybe it was something so jarring. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Scaramouche's nonchalance was justified. In a twisted way, you blamed yourself for overreacting and decided to just forget about the incident. If it didn't mean enough for Scaramouche to even look at you, it clearly wasn't something worth fretting over. You were just exaggerating, right?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You tried you absolute hardest not to let the incident bother you, but you unknowingly started changing your habits to prevent what had occurred from happening to you again.

"Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it..."

You started wearing less revealing clothing, going as far as wearing gloves at some point and covering your neck with collars and scarves through the hot weather.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

Initially, you just avoided dark or secluded places, even when you were with other people, but eventually, you were too scared to leave home at all. You didn't leave the confines of your small garden and if someone passed by, you would quickly hide yourself away. When Scaramouche had unknown guests and colleagues over, you would hide in your bedroom and make him promise not to mention you or acknowledge your existence in the slightest.

You even started taking longer showers and refused to bathe with Scaramouche, confusing him since you used to enjoy it so much. But you wouldn't let him see you in such a vulnerable state now that you were contaminated. You didn't want him to know that you had been tarnished in such a vulgar way, and you spent long moments scrubbing at the parts the stranger had touched. You were worried that Scaramouche would blame you for being assaulted - because in a sick way you thought it was your fault, despite having been nothing wrong. You had twisted the story in your mind to make it seem like you were responsible for the crime committed against you.

Eventually, Childe had to visit for business purposes, but you had become good friends with the eleventh Fatui Harbinger since he was friends with-- well, he and Scaramouche had a relationship, to say the least.

"So where's (Y/N)? Normally they're all over you and making you as embarrassed at possible." Childs grinned, and Scaramouche just frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"They're in our room. They don't really want to see anyone right now." Scaramouche said. Even though you told him not to mention you anymore, since you were so hellbent on avoiding all human interaction, he thought it would be okay to tell Childe. He was your friend too, after all.

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Childe asked, concern in his eyes.

"I don't know. They've been avoiding everyone, including me. They barely talk to me and insist on sleeping downstairs." Scaramouche confessed.

"Let me talk to them."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Childe exited your room after hearing what to had to say, and he was disturbed and sympathetic, at the very least. Scaramouche saw his wide-eyed, grim expression when he exited the room and immediately had questions.

"What?" Scaramouche asked.

"I'll come back tomorrow to continue our work." Childs said, referring to the business he originally came for.

"But we have to--"

"Scar?" Scaramouche stopped all his trains of thought and turned to the sound of your voice. It was hoarse but still as beautiful as ever. He knew you had been crying from your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I think you have other matters to take care of." Childe winked, before giving Scaramouche an informal two-fingered salute and showing himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Scaramouche turned his attention to you, not coming too close in case you didn't want to be near him.

"Yes, Love?" He asked, more concerned than you had ever seen him.

"Can I talk to you? If you're busy, that's okay, it's not that impor--"

"I'm not busy." He shook his head, and you offered him a sad and grateful smile before sitting on the edge of the bed while he took a seat on a nearby chair.

"So, uhm, a couple of days ago I was walking home and I kind of got lost...so I tried taking this alleyway and--" You stopped yourself, meeting Scaramouche's attentive gaze before continuing.

"There was a guy. And he-- he t-touched me. I-- I didn't know what to do. I could've easily fought back but I just got scared and froze up because that's never happened to me before and he kept saying that I wanted him-- but I didn't! I swear, I didn't. I know it sounds bad since I didn't stop him but I really tried, I just couldn't. And he started k-kissing me...here," You gestured to the spots on your neck that you could still feel being violated.

"And I felt so horrible and he didn't go any further because some people were coming, so I ran home. I-I...I didn't know what to do but I felt like I should tell you because I thought you would help me, but you said you were busy so I just-- It-tried to brush it off but I just couldn't get it out of my head! And before I got away, he told me that he'd come back and finish me off and so I didn't want to go outside anymore in case I ran into him. And I started to cover up since he said I was asking for it because of what I was wearing and then I just got scared and I felt dirty. I tried so hard to forget and clean myself but it kept coming back-- I can still feel him on me! I hated it, I still hated it! You have to believe me, I wasn't trying to get him to notice me, I just..." You broke down after finishing what you had to say. You had already been crying since you told Childe, but now you were choking out sobs and your face was drenched. Scaramouche stood up from his chair and sat next to you on the bed, a safe distance away just in case you still weren't comfortable with being touched.

"I believe you. I know you're not like that." Scarsmocuhe started calmly. In all honesty, he wanted to interrupt you as soon as you said that this man approached you. His blood was boiling and he was ready to murder this man for you but kept himself in check because you didn't need senseless violence or revenge right now, you needed comfort. What hurt him the most was that you were blaming yourself because he didn't bother listening to what you had to say on what was probably the worst day of your life.

"It's not your fault you were touched like that. You are not to blame, at all. I-- I should've listened to you when you came to me - as soon as I turned you say I thought something was wrong but I didn't bother asking about it. That's entirely my fault." He admitted, which surprised you. It took Scaramouche a lot to admit his mistakes, but for you? He didn't care. You constantly put up with his sour attitude, he can definitely listen to you and admit he was wrong.

"You sure? Because I still--"

"I'm sure." He said simply.

"But why did you start avoiding me?" He asked, wanting to understand the situation entirely.

"Well, because..." You started, unsure if he would get angry if you told him. While you were contemplating, he offered you an encouraging expression. It wasn't a smile, but it was more than enough to put you at ease.

"I didn't want you to think I was tainted. Of course, you wouldn't want to be near me after that had happened." You sighed, wiping up the last of your tears.

"You really are an idiot, you know?" He said, but after seeing the clueless and almost hurt look on your face, he immediately wanted to take it back. He didn't mean to be insensitive, he just...well, he often explained positive emotions with his very wide negative vocabulary.

"No, I didn't-- uhm..." He mentally cursed himself for not knowing what to say, but you didn't interrupt him and made a small gesture for him to keep going.

"What I mean to say was, I don't think that you're tainted or anything like that. And I still...want to be...near you-- eugh!" He pretended to be grossed out at his own words in true Scaramouche fashion, but he knew you knew he didn't really mean it and was beyond delighted when he saw you giggle at his facial expression.

He sighed and acted angry as he opened his arms ever so slightly. You noticed the movement and quirked an eyebrow when he hesitated.

"Is it okay if I come closer?" Scaramouche asked, unsure if you wanted to be touched after the incident.

Your heart swelled at his care and then you slowly watched as he stiffly wrapped his arms around you comfortingly. Although you had hugged and cuddled on countless occasions, he still wouldn't stop being so robotic unless you did something. It made you laugh and he pulled away slightly to glare at you, so you decided to just pull him back in and hug back.

And when you relished in the touch of another human being, the touch of the person you love, you began to cry. The last time anyone willingly touched you was in that alleyway, and so to have someone be so gentle with you and have no bad intentions, you were overwhelmed with emotion.

Scaramouche must've felt your tears staining his clothing and skin, and quickly pulled away with poorly hidden concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, but you just continued to sob and nod.

"I love you!" You choked out. He sighed and gently patted your back.

"I...love you too." He said, before making another expression of mock disgust. He slowly moved to hold both your wrists in his hand and kiss down to your neck, pulling you into his lap with your legs straddling one of his.

You soon realised that he was covering up the placed the stranger had touched you with his own ministrations, effectively replacing the grime you felt you gained after the incident. After you came to that conclusion and Scaramouche was done, he didn't meet your eye, blushing profusely. It was justified since he didn't usually initiate any kind of affection acts, but you just cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, smiiling at him with purity and a newfound confidence in the both of you.

"Thank you, Scar."

[youryanderedaddy]

Best Friends Forever

 Summary: Your best friend finally has you back after all these years, tied up on his bed and ready to learn your lesson.

Tw: nsfw, non-con, slight mention of blood, threats, choking, slight degradation, dirty talk, cursing, infantilization, possessive behavior, patronizing behavior, overuse of petnames, slight dom vibezz 

You knew your boyfriend was a lost cause, an addict so gone he would have done anything for a fix, but you never expected him to stoop so fucking low. 

 You had woken up in a suspiciously familiar place, laying on sheets oh so soft, puffy and white you simply couldn’t mistake the bed you were on. The walls were painted in black and blue, a combination so deeply engraved in your mind you couldn’t shake off the feeling you weren’t trully conscious, but dreaming of a happy yet distant memory of the past. It took you less than a second to realize you were in his room - the one where you had spent so many joyfull sleepless nights back in your youth. The relief was short - lived, though, because the moment you tried to move around, you became aware of the tight rope keeping your sore limbs tied to the wooden bed frame. After a while of twisting and thrashing around while screaming at the top of your lungs for help you finally heard the door open. You hoped you would at last be able to go home now, still desperate to believe this was merely a prank, a way for your junkie of a boyfriend to scare you into giving him money.

 “There is no use trying to escape the bonds, my little love.” His voice emited through the small room, low, smooth as butter and softer than ever. You tried to lift your head and catch a glipse of the person talking, just to make sure you weren’t imagining things or going insane. And there he was in all his glory, the boy, no, the man you knew well looking so different from how you remembered him, but still it felt impossible not to see the many similarities - from the unruly dark curls to the warm gray eyes that used to be your only guide during times of misery and pain. This was none other than your childhood best friend and you had absolutely no idea why you were tied to his bed. “Oliver, why on earth am I here?” You asked as soon as the initial shock had worn off, completely forgetting to address the weird petname the student had called you.

 He smirked slightly before crossing the distance keeping him away from you, and carefully sat down by your left side. He reached out to stroke your cheek in an affectionate way, his fingers lingering for a moment too long for it to be considered a mere platonic gesture. You tried to turn your head away from the warm touch since it made you feel uncomfortable and left you with so many new questions. “I missed you so much, precious.” Oliver took a deep breath and smiled at you, gently moving your jawline so you had no choice but to face him once again. “I was so happy when that disgusting piece of shit you call a boyfriend offered you to me.” The man bent to your shoulder-level and whispered in your ear, his tone so full of sick satisfaction you could swear there was honey dripping from his mouth. “I paid a lot of money to have you back, sweetheart.” He licked his lips in an obscene, suggestive way and you had to supress the sudden urge to vomit as you finally remembered exaclty why you had stopped contacting your best friend once you had started college. The boy used to be clingy, obsessive even, but you could have never guessed it was that bad.

 “Oliver, please untie me, you are scaring me.” You pleaded in a tiny voice, hoping to summon what was left of the goodness he had tucked away deep in his heart. In response the male only chuckled and shook his head as he placed a small kiss against your neck, causing you to shiver in discomfort and disgust while you were mentally debating whether you wanted to kill him or your ex boyfriend first. Soon your spiteful thoughts were replaced by panic when your captor brought his hand to your t-shirt and started unclasping the small buttons one by one. You couldn’t help but turn red from embarassment the moment you felt your nipples harden under his palm and you became painfully aware you weren’t wearing a bra underneath. Your former friend had your tender breasts exposed to the cold air in a matter of seconds, his terrible fingers already pinching and pulling at the erect tips. “You have such pretty tits, darling.” He said huskily while squeezing your boobs, licking and biting the stretched skin. You hissed in pain and squirmed in a desperate attempt to move away but the rope was holding you in place, tightening around your sore injured wrists even more. 

 “I have wanted you for so long, angel.” The student admitted quietly, his stormy eyes fixed on yours, his stare so intense it could burn a hole through you. “Tonight I will make you mine.” Oliver declared with a clear sense of confidence and claimed your lips in a quick rough manner, muffling your pitiful whimpers like a man starved and hungry for flesh. The forced kiss and his deranged words made your stomach turn but something in his longing gaze told you there was a lot more in store. The guess, much to your horror, was soon confirmed when the dark - haired male reached down between your parted legs and easily slipped your panties down to your ankles. With your last bit of protection gone you felt awfully vulnerable, literally naked in front of the beast too keen on the past to see how much he was hurting you right now, in the present. You wanted to scream the second his fat grabby fingers pried your folds open, but choking on your desperate sobs proved easier at that moment.

 “Aww, don’t cry, angel.” Oliver growled playfully and slid his index into your tight entrance, quickly adding a second one before you had the time to adjust properly. “I have to prepare you, baby, otherwise my cock may just tear you apart.” He remarked in low sickening voice, the excuse too crude and vulgar to be an act of caring. You whined as your walls clenched down tight now that there were three fingers stretching your hole, and you berely managed to utter “too full” before your friend pulled you for a deep kiss again, his tongue devouring your mouth, leaving you breathless and queit while sucking in the sweet pained moans. “You can take it, babygirl.” The man groaned against your swollen red lips and grabbed your hips in a strong hold - you were sure there would be purple bruises there tomorrow.

  Eventually, after half an hour of pushing his fingers in and out of your channel, lapping at your neck and leaving wet love marks all over your collarbone, the student was satisfied with his work. He had turned you into a whimpering mess and was ready to thoroughly enjoy the fruits of his labor, whether you liked it or not. “I am going to put it in now, precious.” Oliver pecked you on the cheek just to lick the salty trace of tears off your puffy skin. “I will force my whole length in your perfect little pussy.” Your captor bit your sensitive earlobe and you broke down in tears like a kid, the threat ringing in your ears like the gospel. “This might hurt a bit so I advise you to stay still and relax, baby.” The way the man continued casually, almost cheerfully, as if he wasn’t about to brutally rape you, made your skin crawl, but there was nothing you could do. You were all tied up, powerless to stop him. Suddenly, without any warning, his hard thick member entered you, piercing pain spreading through your whole body. The student panted in pleasure as soon as he thrust his manhood into your heat, the way it sucked him in leaving him high and blissful. You let a few miserable whimpers, the ache too much to bear, his moves too harsh, sudden and deep. 

  “Don’t give me such a-agh tormented expression, my love.” Oliver quickly shushed you by putting his hand over your mouth and pressing down to prevent any noise that might have escaped. His gaze was lustful, insane, but also loving in a twisted, perverse way. “Fuck, I love you so much.” He muttered, his voice gentle for a split second before going back to being taunting and mocking. “I used to be so angry each and every time you dated another guy, another asshole who was only after your body.” The man was rambling now, his face turning red at his own vicious thoughts, his growing anger reflecting in his cloudy pupils and his painful thrusts. “You always chose them over me like a stupid little bitch ...” He whispered dangerously and lifted your body towards his own so you could take his hits even deeper, so deep that you could feel the tip of his member kissing your cervix. “Well, now you don’t have a choice, angel. I have claimed you and I will keep you here forever.” You were crying out in agony, your pussy clamping down around the enormous length slapping again and again against your core. It burned so bad you wished you could dissapear somewhere far away just so you could have a moment of relief. “Oh, sweetheart, I know it hurts, but it’s almost over, you can take it for me, right?” The male cooed at you, switching back to that disgusting, infantilizing baby voice you had already grown to despise. When you failed to respond he gripped your throat, squeezing so tightly blood rushed to your cheeks and you inhaled sharply though your mouth only to feel the suffocation cut your breath short. “Answer me.” He barked through gritted teeth and you nodded frantically, desperate to gasp for air and cling onto dear life. 

 “Good girl.” Your former friend purred, pleased with your obedience, and let go of your neck, grabbing your hips instead. You coughed and drooled pathetically until you managed to resume your breathing, but the man, still buried deep inside you, seemed too caught up in chasing his own pleasure to notice how badly he had hurt you. Fortunately for you Oliver was really close, that much was obvious by his furious shoves at your abused cervix and his low growls each time he lowered his head to kiss you. Soon he came with a loud moan, painting your walls white, your ruined hole dripping with his seed and your blood. 

 Your captor seemed satisfied afterwards, peaceful in a way - there was a small smile adorining his cold lips as he wiped the tears off your face and squished your bruised body against his strong frame in a tight hug. You bit your tongue to stop the tears from overflowing once again, but to no avail. He let you sob in his arms until there wasn’t liquid left in your red, puffy eyes. 

 “You did very well, my love. I am really proud of you.” Oliver kissed your temple gently, resisting the temptation to graze you all over again with his lips, tongue and fingers. “I will help you clean up, then I will fix you some nice dinner.” He murmured in your ear, tickling the heirs on the back of your neck with his warm breath. “Doesn’t this sound good, baby?”

 You closed your eyes and nodded slowly.

[earlgreydream]

villain.

| draco malfoy x reader / theo nott x reader | smut | angst |

anon requested. smutty draco x y/n where they’ve been dating for months or years and draco cheated on her 

cw: infidelity, sadism, branding, non-consensual voyeurism (revenge)

a/n: this request was a lot, it was long, and it made me FEEL THINGS

The alcohol burned going down.

The bass echoed in your feet as music blared from speakers, sweaty bodies moving and grinding against one another, just mere feet away. You were disgusted by the scene before you.

Where was your lover?

“Y/N!” A drunk friend called your name.

An empty smile crossed your face. You tipped the glass back, swallowing the rest of its contents. You needed it.

“Have you seen him?” You called over the music, practically shouting in your friend’s ear.

“Seen whooo?” They giggled, fingers clutching the glittering material of your dress. It felt like nothing on your body, you felt naked.

“Draco!” You spat, shoving them off when they shook their head no.

Annoyance was all too familiar, wrapping around you like a well-known friend. Fuck.

You slithered through the party, your eyes darting everywhere, searching for a head of white-blonde hair. Your efforts proved futile.

“Are you looking for Draco?” Blaise’s dark hand caught yours, grabbing your attention.

“Yes!” Finally, some help.

“I saw him go off to his room,” he pointed to the hallway off of the common room.

Blaise’s eyes were full of terrible pity, and you felt your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach.

No.

“Can I get you a drink?” He tried to stop you.

“No, get off of me.”

You pushed your way through dancing bodies and wandering hands of drunk boys. Your heels clicked on the black marble floors of the common room, drowned out by the music.

Your mind was far disconnected from your body, and you felt like something small amongst a crowd that suffocated you. Adrenaline kicked in, and you freed yourself from the teenagers, escaping hungry grasps.

Every step you took filled you with dread. It decayed your insides, poisoning your heart and your mind and weighing your feet down. Your ears were ringing, and you could barely hear the deafening music, or your friends calling for you to rejoin them on a couch nearby. Your lungs couldn’t properly draw in oxygen, and the edges of your mind began to prickle with delirium.

You were running on adrenaline.

You practically tripped over your own feet as you tore down the hall, halting as your fingers came into contact with a wooden door. Your fist closed around an iron handle, but doubt made you hesitate.

You had an instant where you considered turning around, going back to the party and forgetting about all of this. Ignoring the whispers of gossip, and silencing the rumors, pretending like this never happened. You could leave this doorway, leave and stay blissfully unaware before it was too late.

No.

Leaders don’t doubt themselves.

You’d made it this far, there was no sense to let your bravery falter now. You gripped the handle, twisting and throwing the door open. The action happened in an instant, and all at once, you couldn’t take it back.

Reality came crashing down on you.

Every fear you had suddenly became tangible. It was very real, unfolding in front of you, and you were powerless to stop it. Every ounce of doubt vanished from your mind, replaced with horrible certainty.

Your body froze. Ice shot down your spine, and spread through your skin in gripping tendrils. The adrenaline halted suddenly, and your heart stopped racing. Your mind snapped back to consciousness. Sharp, unforgiving sanity burst through you in one horrible, violent instant.

Draco Malfoy, your boyfriend of four years, was buried deep inside the cunt of Pansy Parkinson, your roommate and best friend.

Sick, deranged laughter rose in your throat and escaped from your lips.

The party still echoed under your feet, reminding you there were so many people close by. You wondered if they knew. You decided it didn’t matter, the only people who you would’ve believed it from were in front of you, fornicating in infidelity.

“Y/N!” Your name left Pansy in a scream.

At least she seemed ashamed, hurrying to pull the sheets— your sheets— to cover her breasts. Draco didn’t even have the decency to end his rough thrusts from behind, even as one of her hands went out to swat him away.

Cold, silver eyes glared back at you.

“Are you going to leave, or do you care to stay and watch?” Draco’s tone was impatient, dismissive.

His words tasted metallic, like blood and poison.

“Do you feel guilty?”

Draco mistook your tone for amusement. You didn’t cry, and you didn’t move. You didn’t even breathe. From his point of view, you just watched the situation unfold in eerie calmness.

Most girls would have screamed. Most girls would have sobbed and begged for validation, or run away at the very least.

You were not most girls. Draco knew you were something far worse.

You were dangerous and severe.

Your eyes glittered with something dark and terrible. It sent a shudder through him, and powerful doubt ripped all of the air from his lungs.

Do you feel guilty?

“No. I grew bored with you, I don’t regret this, Pansy’s a good fuck.” Draco’s voice masked his insecurity, but you saw directly through the cracking shell, staring directly at the truth.

Your gaze locked with Pansy’s. Her fear twisted in your own stomach, igniting your nerves like electricity. Draco’s movements faltered.

A terrible stillness settled over the room. For a moment, none of you moved, the ice inside of you spreading over everything.

In slytherin, you do what is necessary.

The voice echoed in the back of your mind, grounding you in your crumbling reality.

Do what is necessary.

A malicious idea crossed your mind with a depraved smile.

“I can be redeemed of boredom,” you said simply.

Your tone unnerved Draco. The stillness and certainty was suffocating. Every lingering doubt was annihilated, along with your trust and love for Draco and Pansy.

You didn’t expect the grief to feel so relieving.

The light caught the sparkles of your dress, glittering as the thin fabric moved on your body as you walked out the door. It slammed shut behind you, sealing the room shut with its sin inside.

“What have we done?” Pansy asked Draco.

Weak girls doubted themselves.

You were many things, but never weak. Your feet carried you back to the party. It was still in full, excited swing, as if horrible sins weren’t being committed, as if trust wasn’t being desecrated.

The depraved smile remained on your face.

You were freed from doubt, they were freed from lies. It was always easier to know who your enemies were, even when they were your lovers and your friends.

The cruelty glittering in your eyes, and the sick smile on your face confirmed to everyone that you knew. Blaise wouldn’t meet your gaze. He knew, and he’d led you to them.

“How long, Zabini?”

“A couple of months.” He shifted uneasily.

Your laughter struck fear in his heart. You were quickly coming to terms with your lover’s infidelity, and it ignited something inside of you.

Wrath tasted sweet on your lips, and you breathed it into your lungs like oxygen.

Blaise expected you to be hysterical, but this was far more calculated, far more dangerous.

There was one person left who was loyal to you, and he was leaning against a marble pillar, a glass of fire whiskey at his lips.

“Theo,” you approached the brunette, greeted with a smile and a sultry gaze.

“I need you.”

“Anything,” he answered with absolute sincerity.

“Draco is unfaithful, and I want to get revenge.”

Theo’s fingers slipped in yours, and he brought your hand to his lips. His dark gaze glittered with deviance, catching you as you tumbled.

“You’ve come to the right person.”

Draco was sickened. You attended classes with him, and took your usual seat beside him to eat in the great hall. As far as he could tell, nothing had changed. Blaise, and the few others who knew about his side habit, were uneasy with your reaction. All except for Theo.

Ever since you’d began dating Draco four years ago, he’d been terribly jealous of Theo. Whenever the brunette was around, Draco was openly affectionate with you, growing possessive and territorial. He didn’t imagine it would ever be used against him, but you could turn anything into a weapon.

You weren’t one to be underestimated.

The boys talked about an upcoming quidditch match, the Slytherin team being led by Malfoy. Theo calmly discussed strategy with him, as if he hadn’t sided with you in the betrayal. Draco was too trusting of the brunette. 

Your hand slid up Draco’s back, your fingers threading in the hair at the base of his neck. He forced himself not to flinch, keeping his voice even. A hand dropped to your thigh, and you sipped the drink in front of you. Your nails were sharp on Draco’s neck, a veiled threat that made his skin crawl. 

“I want to show you just how interesting I can be,” you whispered in his ear.

His silver gaze moved to you, watching as you stood and swung your legs over the bench. You cradled his hand in your face, giving him a cold smile before pressing a bitter kiss to his mouth. 

You left the great hall, descending into Draco’s prefect dorm. Eyes trailed after you as you moved through the common room with grace. Pansy watched you disappear into his bedroom, pain spreading through her chest. 

You changed into black lace and silk, leaning on the armoire as he entered. The heavy door shut behind him, and his hands went to his tie, tearing it from his body. His silver gaze admired your body, and he began to wonder why he’d chosen Pansy over you, realizing his mistake. 

“What is this?” Draco dared to ask. 

“Boredom can be cured, Malfoy. You may be willing to toss me aside, but you know that I’m a better match for you. I’m the pureblood your parents pray ends up in your bed.” You pointed out, and he swallowed, unable to argue.

“Let me seduce you,” your hands smoothed over the clean white shirt that adorned his fair chest. 

He watched you touch him, your fingers undoing buttons and pushing the fabric off of his shoulders. He slipped out of the rest of his clothes, pulling on the tie of your robe.

You let him skim his filthy hand down your body, malice simmering inside of you. Your silk joined his clothes on the floor, and you led him to the bed, pushing him down on his back. You straddled his waist, settling down on his lap and lightly running your nails up his chest. 

You tasted poison on your tongue, and a vicious heat spread through your limbs.

Your hands slid up his arms, trapping his wrists at the headboard. Draco didn’t struggle as silk ties wrapped around his wrists, and you secured his hands to the wrought iron bars. Your sweet smile turned insidious, and icy fear paralyzed Draco. 

“Y/N-”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” You snapped, sliding off of his body like a viper. Your feet were on either side of his hips as you stood over the terrified blonde, and you considered kicking him in the ribs. He opened his mouth, but it fell shut with your dangerous look. 

You stepped off of the bed, and Draco thought you were going to leave him naked, tied to the bed. It didn’t matter, Pansy would be around in a few hours to free him. 

Draco’s fear heightened when you opened the door without dressing, his stomach dropping when another person entered the dorm. 

“Theo?” he croaked. 

His body jolted as the door slammed shut, the lock clicking in place and securing your privacy. Your venomous laughter rattled Draco’s spine, and you walked to the edge of the bed, standing before him. 

“Y/N, you need to let me go. Theo, untie me!” The panic in his voice fueled the fire of your wrath, and you smirked at how pathetic he looked. 

“I don’t need to do anything! I owe you nothing, you weak little bitch. Beg me.” 

He stared at you in disbelief, and Theo watched you. The room was buzzing with intense ferocity, your rage pouring off of you in waves and drowning everything in its path. 

You were going to get revenge, and it was going to be sweet. 

Draco’s will was strong, but it was no match for yours. Theo slid his tie off of his neck, but Draco was too focused on you to notice. You were entirely focused on emasculating Draco, determined to make him feel as pathetic and weak as you saw him. 

“Please untie me. I’ll do anything, I’ll break it off with Pansy, I’ll do whatever you want, but just untie me, please.” The desperation was clear in his voice, fear edging in his tone.

“No,” you answered coldly, and he jerked his wrists, the silk digging into his flawless skin. A frightened sigh escaped him, and he turned to Theo desperately. Theo tossed his own clothing aside, and Draco shook his head.

“No, no, Y/N, not with Theo!” Draco protested. 

You turned away from the blonde and pulled Theo against you, his tongue invading your mouth in a rough, forceful kiss. Draco yanked on the bonds, jealous fury burning through him as he watched Theo’s hands explore your body, grabbing and touching you in places that only he did. 

“You are going to lay there, helpless, weak, and pathetic. You are going to watch your best friend fuck me, and you’re going to stay tied up and powerless.”

A noise rose in Draco’s throat, and your hands gripped the sheets at the end of the mattress, bending over and facing Draco. The remaining lace was ripped from your body, and you shot Draco a sadistic smile. 

“You’re going to pay for this.”

“Open your mouth again, and I’ll force it shut.”

You stood up as Theo slammed you from behind, gripping the posts of the bed. Your fingers gripped the etched iron, and memories of having your wrists restrained on experimental nights came flooding back. 

Exhilarated screams left your lips, Theo filling in you in perfect ways, in ways Draco never could. 

“He’s so much better than you. You’ve been holding me back, Draco!”

Silver eyes were wet, delighting your cruelty. Your sharp laughter burned his ears, and his skin was raw from struggling. He watched the scene in front of him, knowing exactly how you felt, but Draco was weak enough to drown in it. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” he choked out as he watched Theo circle your clit in expert, practiced touches. Draco shook his head, watching his best friend, his teammate, and his partner come deep inside of you. He watched it drip down your thighs, your ecstatic, pornographic screams pounding in his head, echoing off of the walls as your own orgasm shattered through you. Theo shared your vengeful pleasure as he watched Draco fall apart. 

Your limbs were trembling as you stood up all the way, leaning back into Theo. You stared at Draco, furthering his shame and misery, twisting like a sickness in your chest. The poison of revenge was addicting, pumping through your veins like blood and filling your heart. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I’m so-” 

You lunged at the boy, your fingers closing around his throat, kneeling on top of him like he was your prey. 

“Draco, I will never forgive you!” you hissed venomously.

Theo was gone, leaving the two of you alone, leaving no witness to whatever crime of passion you were about to commit. The thirst for blood was thick on your tongue, the hunger for revenge making you violent. 

Draco screamed as your wand burned letters into his skin in thick, black ink. You drew back, admiring your initials that were now branded onto the inside of his hip, left by your hatred. His chest heaved as he watched you in horror, making your lips curve into a sadistic smile. 

“I own you.”

You left him restrained, knowing someone would find him eventually as the door closed behind you. Your heart was racing, all of your nerves buzzing from the adrenaline. 

Leaders don’t doubt themselves. Do what is necessary.

Pansy walked past, and you grabbed her black hair, yanking her back against the wall, pinning her to the cold stone with your own body. 

“If you ever touch what is mine again, I’ll rip every pretty hair from your head, and I will have you begging for death!” You seethed, yanking hard on her locks, tearing a terrorized whimper from her. 

“Got it?”

“Yes!” 

You threw her down and spun on your heel, leaving her shaking. Her scream echoed through the common room when she found Draco, and a sinful smirk adorned your face. 

You found you had a taste for wrath, and a talent for violence.

[disastercomingfaster]

Spilling Secrets (Bechloe Fanfiction)

Alright, so this is my first attempt at a fanfiction in...months, I think. Please go easy on me, I’ve been trying to get over my writer’s block and an awesome user named @lyricalmuse91 recommended I write a fanfiction based on the song “If You Love Her” by Forest Blakk and so I came up with this slightly angsty but also very fluffy fanfiction. Please enjoy! And if it’s not great, my apologies, hopefully this will get me out of my slump. Please know I am open for more requests in the future, just inbox me. 

Take it If she gives you her heart Don't you break it Let your arms be a place She feels safe in She's the best thing that you'll ever have

 “I’m in the room, yet all you can do is stare at your phone?” Chloe’s giggling voice snapped Beca out of the trance she was in.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Beca quickly swiped out of the page she was in and set down her phone.

Chloe grinned and made a grab for Beca’s phone. “What kind of porn were you looking at?” She teased.

Beca grabbed the phone and stood up. “Nope, nope!” She held the phone above her head.

Chloe burst out laughing. “Are you serious Mitchell?” She reached up and easily grabbed Beca’s phone. Beca blushed; Chloe was a good two inches taller. This had been a rookie mistake.

“Chloe, please don’t.” Beca let down her guard and pleaded with the red head.

Chloe looked at Beca in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“Just please, give me back my phone.” Beca begged. Slowly Chloe handed her the phone.

“Whatever it was, you can tell me.” Chloe reminded her.

Beca sighed and shoved her phone back in her pocket. “Let’s talk about something else, please.”

Chloe sighed. “You always do this.”

“Do what?” Beca asked.

“You’re my best friend, and I feel like I know nothing about you.” Chloe told her. “I’ve told you everything about me, every detail about my life. But I only partially know you.”

“You know what matters.” Beca insisted.

“Do I?” Chloe asked, sitting back on the ground. “Do you not trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone.” Beca said impulsively.

“I didn’t think I was just anyone.” Chloe snapped.

Beca sighed and sat down next to the red head. She wrapped her arms and pulled her into a hug.

“You’re not just anyone.” Beca assured her. “I’m just…I’m just scared you won’t like what you see. I can’t lose you, Chloe.”

“Have you murdered anyone? Because I think I can handle anything else from you.” Chloe teased.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t killed anyone that mattered.” Beca teased back. Chloe gently smacked the younger girl’s hand and they both laughed.

 She always has trouble Falling asleep And she likes to cuddle While under the sheets She loves Pop songs And dancing, and bad trash TV There's still a few other things

 Beca pulled her keys out of her pocket, doing her best to not fall right asleep at the door. Somehow her group project had underestimated how long it would take to finish up their report. She hadn’t gotten out of the library until nearly midnight.

Beca pulled the front door open, trying to be as quiet as possible, only to be greeted by Chloe in her pajamas.

“Hey bestie.” Chloe waved.

“What the fuck are you doing up, hun?” Beca sighed. “Don’t you have class at seven tomorrow?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to watch some Jersey Shore reruns.” Chloe shrugged.

“Again?” Beca asked.

“I mean…” Chloe shrugged. “You know what always helps me fall asleep, right?”

Beca rolled her eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Please, Beca?” Chloe pleaded.

Beca sighed. “Let me put my stuff down in my room and change, I’ll meet you in your room.”

Chloe was already comfortable in bed by the time Beca made it to her room. Beca rolled her eyes. “Move over, weirdo.”

Chloe grinned and made a space in bed for Beca to slide in. Beca wrapped her arms around Chloe.

“Thank you.” Chloe snuggled into Beca.

“I can’t believe you make me do this.” Beca complained.

“Oh, shut up. You love this just as much as I do.” Chloe laughed.

Beca rolled her eyes, but Chloe was partially right. Beca both loved and hated cuddling Chloe until she fell asleep. She hated in for the same reason she loved it.

She was in love with Chloe.

And Chloe had no idea.

 Take it If she gives you her heart Don't you break it Let your arms be a place She feels safe in She's the best thing that you'll ever have She'll love you If you love her

 “So, you two are literally spooning almost nightly, but you can’t tell her you love her?” Jesse laughed and took a sip of his beer.

“I wouldn’t call it spooning.” Beca practically whispered, looking around the bar.

“No, it’s literally spooning.” Jesse said, not bothering to keep his voice down. “You are straight up friendzoned.”

“And you clearly can’t handle alcohol.” Beca said, grabbing his drink out of his hand.

“Hey!” Jesse protested.

“You can get this back when you stop being an asshole.” Beca said. “Which means you will probably never get it back.”

Jesse laughed and grabbed his drink. “Becs, she likes you. She needs you to help her fall asleep. That’s sickening and possibly adorable.”

“Yeah, and what if you’re wrong?” Beca snapped, taking a swig of her beer. “What if you’re wrong and I completely ruin our friendship and make things totally awkward?”

“You’re probably already making things awkward because you’re in love with her and you’re pretending you aren’t.” Jesse pointed out.

“God.” Becca groaned. “I hate it when you have actual points.”

Jesse winked and took another sip of his beer. “Look. Beca. She’s crazy about you. You two are together all the time and she has these desperate-looking googly eyes whenever you’re around. She’s into you. And it’s really gross, to be honest. Go for it, kid. What’s the worst that will happen?” Jesse laughed. “I mean, I told you I was hot for you and here we are getting drunk on a Tuesday night three years later even though you have absolutely no feelings for me.”

“I mean, that is a good point.” Beca admitted.

“Just go for it, Becs. You hold everything in, why not try trusting people every now and then?” Jesse took anther chug of his drink. “How about the next round is on me?”

“Sounds good.” Beca finished her drink. “I think I’m going to need it.”

  Kiss her with passion As much as you can Run your hands through her hair Whenever she's sad And when she doesn't notice How pretty she is Tell her over and over So she never forgets

 “You’re doing that thing again.” Chloe’s voice interrupted Beca’s thoughts.

“What?” Beca asked, locking her phone.

“Beca, something is clearly going on with you.” Chloe insisted.

“Just drop it, Chloe.” Beca insisted, shoving her phone in her pocket.

“We’ve been best friends for over three years. I’ve told you every stupid thing about me but now something is clearly going on that you think I can’t handle hearing about and you’re keeping me in the dark!”

“It’s complicated.” Beca muttered, avoiding eye contact with the red head. To tell Chloe what was going on with her phone could easily lead to Beca sharing she had feelings for the red head which could lead to Chloe never speaking to her again.

“I’m listening.” Chloe said, taking Beca’s hand. Beca bit her lip, trying to control the rush of emotion that went through her.

“I can’t-”

“Beca, if you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine. I just want to make sure my relationship with you works on both sides. It can’t just be me sharing to you, me complaining to you. I want you to feel like you can trust me, hun.”

“Michelle’s pregnant!” Beca burst out.

“Michelle?” Chloe asked. “Who’s Michelle, Becs?”

“She…we dated…we had plans and we were…” Beca sighed. “It doesn’t matter. She moved on…and I mean I guess I should have by now, and I thought I did…it was high school for Christ’s sake…but I mean, we were going to get married and…fuck, I’m pathetic…”

“Beca, you don’t have to judge how you feel.” Chloe squeezed her hand.

“I was crushed years ago and now I’m…I’m this.” Beca laughed.

Chloe laughed. “And what’s wrong with this? I think this is pretty cool.” Chloe squeezed Beca’s hand. They both stared at each other for a moment. “I think ‘this’ is perfect.” Chloe whispered.

Before Beca knew what was happening, Chloe had pressed her lips against Beca’s. Beca immediately pulled Chloe closer.

“You…you wanted…you also…?” Beca sputtered out in-between kisses.  

Chloe pulled away and giggled. “Honestly, this is what I thought you were hiding.”

“I mean, it was.” Beca laughed. “But I thought if I shared anything all my feelings would just pour out.”

“I knew you were just a big softie under all that attitude.” Chloe giggled, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“Hey! Beca Mitchell is no softie!” Beca laughed and put her lips back to Chloe’s.

“Wait, wait!” Chloe pulled away. “Does that mean you trust me now?”

Beca laughed. “Chloe. I always trusted you. And I was so, so fucking scared if I told you the truth, I would lose you. And I don’t know what the hell I would do without you, Chlo.”

Chloe grinned and kissed Beca. “I’ll make sure you’ll never have to find out.”

 On days when It feels like the whole World might cave in Stand side by side And you'll make it She's the best thing that you'll ever have She'll love you If you love her like that

[sourholland]

Ooooh angst “what about us?” “there is no us, there never was.” with tom plssss! Really love ur work 🌸

Last Kiss || Tom Holland

Summary → After a fling you and Tom had started while filming a movie together, he tells you that you two can’t be together anymore. Once you get home, Tom let’s you know that he made a mistake.

AN → This was supposed to come out yesterday, I just got lazy and waited to edit it. I can’t tell if I like how this came out or hate it, either way, I hope you guys like this. Also in honor of the Fearless re-record!!

Pairing(s) → Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Warnings → Strong Language, Suggestive, Alcohol Use

Prompt(s) → 38

Word Count → 1.9k

The ringing of your phone sounded through your apartment loudly, the sound of the rain pattering loudly against the windows out-looking New York City. You set down the remote, feet padding against the cold hardwood while you looked for your buzzing cellphone.

You didn’t bother glancing at the caller ID, picking it up bringing it to your ear all in one quick motion.

“Hello?” You said, pulling a wine glass down from the cabinet.

“Y/N?” Tom’s voice came through the phone.

Your heart dropped, a breath catching in your throat while you stood in your kitchen. He was across the country, wanting nothing to do with you. He repeated your name through the phone, asking if you were there.

“Yeah, I’m here,” you answered, pouring more wine than you’d originally intended into the glass.

“Isn’t it like one in the morning in England?” You asked, listening to the muffles coming through the speaker.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s late here. I just couldn’t sleep, and I started to think of you. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have called.”

You sat at one of the barstools, swirling the red contents of the glass around. You wanted to yell at him, or maybe you wanted to tell him how much you loved him. You sat silently for a few moments, bare legs cold from the draft.

“Tom,” you started. “I just don’t get why we have to rehash the past, you know? I came back to New York, just like you told me I should. You’re working on whatever new movie, I’m doing the same. I don’t know—I just think we should leave whatever happened between us alone. You made it very clear that it was me that you didn’t want,” you mumbled, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater.

He audibly sighed, the ruffling of sheets coming through the phone. He was probably in bed, if he wasn’t so far away you’d have asked him if this was a sad attempt at getting you to sleep with him.

“I was fucking stupid, and I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry, I’ve said that a million times,” his voice was hoarse and tired.

“I’ve already forgiven you, Tom. I just can’t keep doing this—this thing with you.”

You both went quiet for a minute, the only sound being the noise from outside in the bustling streets of the city and the rain. You knew you should hang up, block his number and forget about anything you two ever had. You’d tried a few times, unable to bring yourself to doing it.

“What about us?” He asked lowly, a twinge of hurt in his tired voice.

“There is no us, Tom,” you replied. “I’m not even sure there ever was.”

He didn’t say anything, you wanted to let out the repressed cry and tell him you didn’t mean it. That you were sorry and that you thought about him more than you’d like to admit. Something in you knew if you didn’t do your best to cut it off, you two would continue down the same everlasting cycle.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay.”

The line went silent for a moment, and then your home screen lit up. The call had been ended. You downed the remainder of your wine, ditching the cup and just going for the bottle. You thought about calling him back, about apologizing and booking a plane ticket like some lovesick teenager.

You opened Instagram and began scrolling through your feed of posts, liking and commenting occasionally. You weren’t anywhere near drunk, merely tipsy and heartbroken. Your finger lingered on the button to go live, wondering if you really wanted thousands of people to see you in this state.

You left the kitchen and instead propped your phone against the couch, taking a seat on the white rug of your living room. You wearily pressed the go live button, raising the bottle to your chapped lips once more. You are pathetic, you thought.

“Hey guys!” You smiled at the camera and outpouring of greetings in the comments. Within a few minutes you’d racked in a few thousand viewers. You grabbed the guitar sitting against your wall and strummed the cords lightly while it sat in your lap.

userone: you are so adorable

usertwo: can you please say hi?!!!??

userthree: it’s my birthday y/n!

“I’m sorry I haven’t been very active on social media, guys. It’s been super crazy traveling back and forth from London to New York and then having to leave again in a few weeks. And now I’m sitting on my living room floor with a bottle of wine,” you laughed. A few familiar people popped into the comments of the live, some you’ve worked with and some you’ve yet to meet in person.

florencepugh: y/n!!!

gracieabrams: might just bust out the wine just for u

“Florence, I can’t wait to see you soon!” You smiled, “Gracie, I swear it’s making everything like a hundred times better.”

userfour: i’m in love with her

userfive: y/n saving 2021???!!!

“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be singing,” you flushed. You did sing, before getting into acting you’d post a lot on Instagram and TikTok. It’d always been more of a hobby, something you loved to do, but weren’t good enough to pursue.

“I’ve had a little too much to drink,” you added. “So don’t get upset if I’m a little pitchy, guys.”

usersix: if she’s pitchy i’m not sure what i am

userseven: sing taylor swift!!!

“Okay, okay!” You chuckled, scrolling through the hundreds of comments saying to play Taylor Swift. You’d only just been crying to like three of her albums a few hours before.

“How about the chorus—and maybe the bridge too, yeah, that’ll work,” you mumbled to yourself, fiddling with the strings. “Alright, guys, Last Kiss it is. I won’t bore you all with the whole thing, though. I could never do Taylor justice.”

“And I’ll go sit on the floor, wearing your clothes”

Getting involved with him was singlehandedly the most stupid decision you’ve ever made, you thought. Late nights in his flat after long nights on set, ordering in and just talking, you two would talk as if you’d known each other your whole lives. It was something about the way he’d let you wear his clothes, or the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear while you told him about whatever insignificant thing that had happened that day.

“All that I know,

I don’t know how to be something you miss”

The car ride to the airport was the worst, it was grey and cold outside. There was makeup running down your face, mascara covering your eyes generously. You’d wrapped filming a week earlier, unable to bring yourself to walk away from him.

You couldn’t tell the driver to turn you around, or could you? Tom had already made it clear that you were both in different places in your career. This wasn’t what he wanted. You weren’t what he wanted.

“I never thought we’d have our last kiss”

He had held you just a little tighter, you ran your fingers through his hair for just a second longer. The taste of each other lingering on the both of your lips. Like you knew it would be the last time he’d hold you without knowing.

His stupid smiled, the way he pulled away and ran his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. You were almost wrapped around his finger, absolutely sickened with desire and infatuation for him.

“I never imagined we’d end like this,

Your name, forever the name on my lips”

The day you’d left to come home to New York started with a huge argument between the two of you. He’d basically just told you that you’d both known from the beginning you wouldn’t last together. It wasn’t a matter of how much you cared for one another, but that it was impossible, as he put it.

His eyes glossed over and bloodshot, you a complete and utter mess. Slamming the door behind you as you left was one of the most painful things you’d ever endured. Even more painful, the fact that he never came after you.

“So I’ll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep”

“I can feel you staring at me, love,” he murmured against the pillow.

Your face heated, eyes averting to the stream of light through the sheerness of the curtains. He leaned into you a moment later, his lips soft on your own. He was warm, he was always so warm. You cupped the side of his face gently, pulling him in a bit harder.

“And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe”

You dropped your bags, stepping into your apartment after months of being away. It felt quieter than usual, desolate and empty from your being away. It was dark out, the illumination of the bright city lights from your windows.

You glanced down at your phone for a moment, not a missed call, not a text, not even a fucking notification. He’d simply told you to go home, nothing more nothing less.

“I keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are,

Hope it’s nice where you are”

You’d texted Harrison a few times, regretting it almost immediately after. He was sweet, telling you that Tom would come around eventually and to just be patient. You’d relied on those kind words for some time, eventually deleting them all together.

After Tom’s first text, you’d realized he wasn’t coming around or regretting what he’d said to you. He was lonely, maybe even a bit desperate. For months you had been there to listen to him and hold him, and now you were gone.

You’d fed into it the first few times, sitting on the phone with him for hours at a time. Then you started to feel worse hearing his voice, silent sobs escaping as you’d listen to him ramble. Then your finger would linger over the decline button a little longer than usual when he’d call, until eventually you started to use it.

“And I hope the sun shines and it’s a beautiful day,

And something reminds you,

You wish you had stayed”

Once you started to go out with other guys, Tom’s ‘I miss you’ texts became more infrequent. Paparazzi would snap pictures, and the next morning they’d be plastered all over the internet.

There was no doubt he was seeing you going out with other people, watching article after article about who you were dating surface. Would he be jealous? No, you thought. Tom was probably doing the same thing as you. Hopeless hookups, meaningless blind dates.

“You can plan for a change in the weather and time”

One early morning, you found yourself in a sweatshirt you’d stolen from one of his drawers and forgotten to return. Listening to the morning rush of traffic and hugging yourself, noticing the lingering smell of his cologne.

You wondered if he knew you’d taken it, if he would think you were pathetic wearing it months after you two had broken things off. This only made you clutch yourself a little tighter, closing your eyes and trying to remember.

“But I never planned on you changing your mind”

[yandere-sins]

hi!! first of all i am big fan of your blog ✨

i see your request opens so.. can i request a yan kirishima with a pregnant darling (i was looking for you rules but idk if you write for that) if you not, please ignore this.

have a good day!!

Thanks for requesting, glad you enjoy my writing!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

The soft hums were all you could think about while his hands warmed your sore stomach. It was close to the melodies your mother would hum to you as a child, but Kirishima didn’t hit all the notes, butchering the attempts. He went out of his way to get the tunes from your family, yet, he didn’t have any success with them. You sighed, feeling incredibly exhausted and heavy as you sat up some more. The humming stopped briefly, his hands moving aside for you to make yourself comfortable. Saying he was considered was an exaggeration, but he made an effort.

“You’re doing so great for us,” he praised you after pulling you back into a hug, planting butterfly kisses along your temple. All you could do was sigh even more. No inch of your whole being was comfortable, and you were wondering if your baby felt the same.

Your eyes dragged through this hell hole that was your room. There were so many marks on the walls, the floor, the amenities, all from the times you could still stand for more than 5 minutes before getting cramps and collapse from the exhaustion. Triplets. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to have a baby, let alone triplets.

Kirishima.

He was the root of all evil. Ever since he made you believe he loved you, whisking you away to this apartment that was closer to a high-security prison than a home, he had become your worst enemy and, now, the father of your children.

And you? You made him the happiest person in the world.

Pressing his cheek to your head, he let out a content sigh, one hand falling back to your swollen abdomen, circling it gently. “I can’t believe we’re going to be parents soon! It feels like only yesterday where I confessed my love for you under the tree by the school, and now we’re going to have three little babies on the way!”

That much was true. In a way, it did feel like only yesterday since you felt the joy of being loved, but now you dreaded it. Even if you still remembered going through the days spent crying and fighting, in pain or in exhaustion, they all became one big void in your mind, and tomorrow, this day too would be sucked into it. Even if he still loved you, you couldn’t say you had even a little bit of those butterfly feelings left for Kirishima. Now, you just wanted him to disappear from your life. 

Part of you blamed yourself for not being stronger or more clever to escape your predicament. But anyone would tell you how it was his fault, how Kirishima ruined your life in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to recover from. This man, holding you in his arms as gentle as a delicate flower, was nothing but a monster in disguise. A greedy one at that, never getting enough of you.

He may love you - or so he kept assuring you - but it wasn’t a type of love you’d wish to your worst enemies. It was obsessive, possessive, and deluded. A love that turned to fear to anger in a matter of seconds if you two disagreed. Kirishima didn’t fear you hating him, but he feared that you’d leave. That someone else could take you away from his side, so he decided he had to be quicker than anyone else. And because he couldn’t stop loving you in a twisted way, he didn’t listen to your ‘no’ and ‘stop’ and just kept going with what he thought was the best for your relationship.

Until you became pregnant. It should have been a time of joy, but you couldn’t see anything else but madness when he cared for you ever so tenderly. No matter what you did to upset him, he kept smiling, placing his hand on your bump and reminding you cheerfully not to stress yourself. Kirishima came home earlier, cooked dinner, and massaged your feet willingly, even forcefully if you refused. Fighting to make you understand his views ceased. Now it was only you and the babies being safe and healthy. Even if you made him run to the grocery store three times a night, he would always come back with a smile and ask if he can prepare your cravings for you. It was sickening! Absolutely sickening how he took all of these exertions and still managed to be happy to be of service for you. The lovesickness in his eyes was clearer than anything else, and now that you relied on him more, it made him happier and happier. You wondered if he felt remorse for his past actions now, having to see you suffer from the pregnancy and being even more unhappy than you already were. But you doubted it still.

“Us, forever,” he mumbled. Lost in thoughts as you were, he might have mistaken your silence for being asleep. “You, me, the babies. No one can take you away from me now. I’ll be with you until the end. I will do what I have to do to ensure you will be by my side forever.”

Even making me pregnant, you thought.

“Even making you pregnant,” he confirmed as if he had read your thoughts. “You can’t leave me now, can you? You need me just as much as I need you now. I’m so crazy for you, I hope you can understand one day I’d do anything to be with you.”

“That’s not very manly of you,” you muttered, and Kirishima gasped. “You’re awake?!” he asked, surprised, before chuckling, burying his face in your shoulder. “You’re right. That wasn’t very manly.”

With a deep breath, Kirishima collected himself before speaking up again, using his free hand to turn over your head to face him properly. “I love you. I love you more than anything in this world. I can’t wait to finally build a family with you. Don’t ever forget that I adore you. I would do anything for you, okay?”

Honestly, you were too exhausted to fight. You wanted it all to be over, the pregnancy, your kidnapping, and his love most importantly. If this had been a healthy, good relationship you two were having, you’d have been nothing but blessed with such a caring and doting lover, but all you had was this. This monster put on sheep’s clothing to fit into an illusion with you that he wanted. You knew you had to do something. If not for you, a least for the children that would be born into such a hostile life.

But it was too late now, your belly rumbling before you felt a tear in it, eyes widening as you stared at the father of your children. But only a broad, proud smile crept onto his face as he, too, realized what was happening. “Let’s be a family, okay?” he asked, and you had no answer to it.

Only a muffled scream escaped you as the contractions began.

[mrs-march-ahs]

Dating Zicky Zamirez

I wholeheartedly ask you to forget about the real-life person before reading this. This has absolutely nothing to do with the real person. The real person disgusts me just as much as everybody else.

Even after watching 1984, I don’t see much of the real-life killer in Zach Villa’s character. I see him as a fictional character like James March.  For the sake of separating Zach’s character as much as possible from the disgusting person he is based on, this is not headcannons about dating the sickening serial killer Richard Ramirez.

This is a post about the fictional character Zicky Zamirez that I just created. He looks like this.

-Very explosive and you need to learn to not be afraid of it -Zicky is Pisces sun, Scorpio moon and Leo rising -Which means that he is emotional and sensitive in a non-conventional way -He is creative and creepy -His inner Scorpio wants to be obsessed with you, but he manages to not be -You two live different lives and spend a lot of time apart -But when the two of you get together, it’s very intimate -He’s very easy to talk to even though he isn’t the best listener -Definitely wants quality time with you and just you, talking about anything and everything

-Gets riled up quickly talking about certain things -Time as a group with other people (not that anybody else in the camp wants to be around him) doesn’t count, he needs 1 on 1 time with you -Zichard thinks he’s always 3 steps ahead of you and is so much smarter than you, but he’s pretty easy to soften up and manipulate if you need to -Would truly do anything for you -The relationship is intense and serious very fast -The song he dedicates to you in the car is either You Give Love A Bad Name (Bon Jovi) or Maneater (Daryl Hall & John Oates) -In the car singing along to music together, practically screaming along to the songs -You have to know as many Billy Idol songs as physically possible -Baby names include: - “Look what I did for you baby” - “Last chance baby girl” - “Uh yeah sorry babe” - “Good girl” - “Yes sweetie” -When you’re doing anything particularly feminine or doing something that in his eyes is throwing a tantrum - “Sorry princess” -You don’t like being called princess so he only calls you that to piss you off -In exchange you call him Zichard - (like the vine) What the fuck, Zichard

-Definitely talks dirty to you cause you like his voice -Is fine with transactional sex but really likes to lay with you after, smoke some weed, and trace hearts on your chest like the little bitch he is -Would rent a room in a motel just to have that time with you -Blows smoke in your mouth and vice versa -Likes sharing a cigarette with you just to have that little smudge of lipstick on it -Obsessed with your boobs -If you wear a low cut top around him, don’t bother talking because he can’t hear it -Noise cancelling boobs -Despite how much of a fanboy he is, he’s pretty mature and the relationship isn’t particularly teenage-y -He likes to see you wearing his jacket though -He tries to be interested in your interests, like aerobics, and in exchange you’re willing to worship Satan with him -It’s only fair -When he firsts takes you into the forest and draws a pentagram with sticks, you don’t think much of it -You both cut your hands and drip the blood in the middle and worship together -You see how into it he is and he shows you how powerful it is, insisting that you kill him just to prove to you that Satan will bring him back -Whether you do it or you don’t is up to you -He pretends he doesn’t have a soft side but really likes when you touch his hair -A total top dom -Doesn’t even really like you riding him -Licks your feet though -Can and will spend hours between your legs and is great at it -Lay on the couch with him and he’ll find a way to sneakily massage your feet just so he can see them and touch them -When he eventually goes to prison you always visit him, but when he starts acting crazier, asking for more, and being less excited to see you, you visit him less and less -He complains if you come visit him in something that doesn’t show your tits -Eventually he escapes, and comes straight to you, and shows up at your door with fake passports -You run away together so he can be far away from the camp -If the people at the camp found out that you wanted to run away with him, they might kill you -He can’t resist seeing you and would come visit all the time, eventually becoming trapped himself -Trapped together forever -The others at the camp don’t want him to escape, but as long as you’re stuck there he will stay with you

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

i don’t particularly know if i’ll ever write for... zicky again but i think i would want to, tell me if you want to be taken off the taglist for that<3

@milly-louise  @amourtentiaa  @kitwalker02  @tatestripedsweater  @therenlover  @maria-akira​  @tatesimper  @sallyscigarettes  @mossybank  @ahsxual  @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess  @mrs-march-ahs-biggest-fan  @kitwalkerangel  @kitisagoldenretrieverboy @darlingkitt  @blackbat2020  @whiiiiplaaaaash @kaismessiahbb @elaineygrace @divinerulerluvr @johndeaconshands @kais-messiahbaby @xmaximoffic @tatesweaterweather @undeadcortez

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Fundy's Arc: A Collection of Transcriptions

The seeds of this character arc have been sown from the very beginning. This was a loooong time coming.

Here’s just a collection of moments and quotes from across Fundy’s character arc with Wilbur in L’manberg.

How did we get here? How did all of this familial conflict arise? 

Because it’s been there long before Schlatt even got into power.

---

The very start: 

- Fundy’s house gets pranked. He can no longer live there. Wilbur says that he’s technically the first naturally born citizen of L’manberg and claims Fundy as his son. He proclaims that, unlike his own father, he would be there for Fundy and give him the world. Neither of these promises were kept.

- After the first war ends, Wilbur makes Tommy vice president and Tubbo secretary of state. He doesn’t give Fundy any position. In fact, he doesn’t even include Fundy in the national anthem. Even Eret’s name was included over Fundy.

---

Wilbur, rejecting Eret’s kingship:

Wilbur: “I actually recognize, um, subscriber counts actually denote who’s in charge, um...”

Tommy: “That means you’ve got like a week until Fundy’s in charge of L’manburg.”

Wilbur: “Nah, Fundy’s too young...”

---

- Fundy’s rebellious stage really starts when he takes off the L’manburg uniform, long before any of the others did. Wilbur tries to get him to put it back on, but Fundy refuses.

Fundy: “Wilbur, it’s all right, I’m...I’m not a uniform.”

Wilbur: “Fundy why aren’t you in uniform?”

Fundy: “Um...I...forgot...”

Tubbo: “Put it on.”

Wilbur: “No, no, no, my son knows, Tubbo, don’t -- stand down, alright...right.”

Wilbur: “Fundy, it’s alright -- it’s okay that you forgot it, you know you’re a young man now, you’ve grown up a lot since -- you know you’re a teenager, you’re going through your rebellious phase, it’s absolutely fine that -- sometimes you wanna wear you’re own clothes! You know, but -- you know...daddy made a nice uniform and gave it to you, and...you know--”

Fundy: “Wait you made me a uniform?”

Wilbur: “It’s nothing, it’s really nothing, don’t worry --”

Fundy: “Waiiiiit, wait, what do you mean? What do you mean you made me a uniform?”

...

Wilbur: “It’s okay, we’ll talk about your uniform when you’re a bit older.”

---

- He gets into a war with Sapnap, almost starts a civil war with Tubbo, and Wilbur is absent for both of these. He’s just straight up not there. He didn’t even know about Fundy’s war with Sapnap since he had no idea Mushroom would make Niki upset, and Tommy brings up the fact that Wilbur’s been absent when he explains what had been happening between Tubbo and Fundy. Tommy had to step in because he was the only one left in charge.

---

Tommy: “Fundy, okay can I tell you what’s happened from my point of view? The son of the President has gone around scamming the other presidential members, and as Vice President while the President’s not on, it is my duty to make sure this doesn’t pull apart L’manburg.”

...

Tommy: “What would father think?”

Fundy: “...”

Fundy: “...Well he - always...sides...by me...”

Tommy: “Well you know, I mean, you’ve gone against the other members of the nation he fought to build--”

Fundy: “--Well! only because my - my loot has been stolen, alright --“

---

Tommy, to Wilbur:

Tommy: “been a little while since you’ve been on, Wilbur.”

Wilbur: “Yeah, well there’s a reason I haven’t been on...it sickens me.”

...

Tommy: “There was a - there was a civil war.”

Wilbur: “I heard, between Fundy and Tubbo --”

Tommy: “Yeah, your son and our secretary of state had a huge quarrel, and I defused it.”

Maybe this is just me reading into that last line and the tone it was said with a bit too much, but Tommy kind of had to emphasize the fact that Fundy was Wilbur’s son, as if Wilbur had almost forgotten it

---

- Pog2020 works to get Sapnap’s vote by publicly disavowing Fundy. He goes to make his own party in response and Coconut2020 isn’t even taken seriously. Wilbur didn’t even want to include it on the ballot. 

Sapnap: “Your father would be very disappointed.”

Fundy: “Why - disappointed for wearing glasses?! 

Sapnap: “Ugly, wearing glasses, what are you wearing --”

Fundy: “What do you mean?!”

Tommy: “Fundy, Fundy...I’m just here to publicly denounce you.”

Fundy: “...What?”

...

Tommy: “I’m just here to kinda let you know...if you weren’t Wilbur’s son, you would be out of L’manberg. Just remember, you need to keep that relationship with your father - I saw how arsehole-y and bratty you were acting in the courtroom the other night, you need to pull your shit together young man.”

...

Fundy: “Chat, lemme get this straight real quick...so Tommy is demoting me, right, and he’s saying you’re only in L’manberg because of Wil. So Tommy says...in theory, he would kick me out if he had the chance. But considering that, while he’s together with Sapnap, it leads me to believe... Tommy wants to destroy L’manberg.”

--- More under the break because this is a horrendously long post ---

Fundy gives a speech after preparing the Festival decorations:

Fundy: “Chat, I wanna point something out...

at the start of everything in L’manberg, when Jschlatt got on top of everyone, when Jschlatt got the leading position, and everyone was saying it was a bad thing [...] I just wanna point out...

What have Tommy and Wil ever done for this country? What have they ever done for this country? Really? They put up walls, they accepted a drug scandal, and what do we have? Not two weeks after Schlatt got elected, we have a festival. We have a festival! [...] They kept our country alive, but we’ve revamped it to something better [...] They’ve kept us alive for us to continue our generation 

 I see progress, alright?”

---

The big turning point happens when Fundy denounces Wilbur as part of his plan as a spy. That moment sealed the fate between the two, fracturing their relationship beyond repair.

---

Fundy: “Wilbur, imma need you to shut up for a second--”

Wilbur: “Don’t you speak like that to me, Fundy. Don’t forget where you came from!”

Schlatt: “What’s the relationship between you and...and Wilbur, Fundy?”

Fundy: “Wilbur’s just the founder, and I was born here, and nothing else. That’s literally all there is to it.”

Wilbur: “But...you know that’s not...”

---

When Fundy goes back to help Wilbur and Tommy with his Spy’s Diary, he’s still mocked and spoken over, called Wilbur’s “traitor son.” His effort as a mole wasn’t enough to fix their bond.

And when everyone finally takes back L’manburg, Wilbur gets to choose who’s the new president. There’s only one person other than Tommy that that could be. And as Fundy watches...Wilbur gives Tubbo the country instead. And then blows Fundy’s home to smithereens. 

And instead of living with the consequences, he tells Phil to kill him, so that he can become a little floating ghost who wanders around avoiding his problems.

---

When a creeper explodes a hole in the wall and Wil asks Phil about his button room, Phil asks Wil to VC. Wil, seeing that it was a serious talk, immediately avoids it and drops the conversation. This is exactly what Fundy calls out later on.

---

Fundy tells Wilbur straight to his face:

Fundy: “Wil, LISTEN!”

Wilbur: “I am - I am, I am, I just --”

Fundy: “You know what’s wrong? Do you even know? Does it even break through, like - Wil, listen, look at me. Wil, WIL...stop. Every single time something serious comes up, you evade it. You just avoid everything. You run away from every serious consequence that might become of your actions. You walk away from it! You just smile throughout everything. You think nothing is going on, you think everything is fine...it’s not! 

You were there for me, for a very very fucking long time...and when I needed you the most, you skedaddled the fuck out of my life and died. Because of what? L’manburg’s causes, huh? You thought that was justice, you thought that was good for me? You left me, man. You never take things seriously, you never do.”

Fundy: “Let me tell you something, Wil, let me tell you something. You know what happened, after all of your memories - all of your good memories of our quote unquote ‘last talk?’ Because it wasn’t our last talk, Wil - Wil--”

Wilbur: “If I didn’t remember it, it probably wasn’t worth remembering.”

Wilbur then feigns a meeting with Tubbo to get out of the conversation and leave, immediately proving Fundy’s point.

---

Wilbur doesn’t like to face the consequences of his actions. 

He started the election because he felt like no one respected his power. But instead of dealing with that lack of respect by gaining it legitimately, he just came up with a plan to rig an election. Instead of accepting that he lost the election, and that Schlatt was getting more done for L’manburg than he did in his time as president, Wilbur came up with a plan to bomb the festival and kill everyone. And when he finally exploded L’manburg, he perma-died and left everyone else to deal with Techno’s withers. 

Fundy is right about Wilbur. He walks away from uncomfortable situations. And Fundy is, to Wilbur, an uncomfortable situation.

---

(also everyone say thank you fundy and wilbur for bringing us this heartbreaker of a character arc rn because this is some damn good stuff)