#you all suck + help your parents + have empathy + stop being so fucking moody all the time + plwase get bitches + get help.

[blyhowdy]

como

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

Working on a fic rn that is killing me, I GOTTA talk about it. Imagine ftm Izaya being asked by Shinra and Celty to be their surrogate bc their options are limited and they assume he wouldn't be able to get attached to the baby bc of his aspd and general disposition (unfair assumption on their part) Izaya only agrees bc he can't stand the idea of disappointing Shinra and proceeds to go through the mental anguish of dysmorphia and carrying a baby that's not even his that he wants to love so much

i. man. ive been presenting this ask to my friends all day because this is such a good fucking idea. this is perhaps the best drr fic of all time by my personal ranking (which also happens to be the correct ranking) and i thought id give you a couple fun little bits of informed mation that could possibly help you with this fic :) one of them is surrogacy related the other is aspd related

SO!!! the first thing i did was show my fiance and i said, well, izaya could keep the baby if he wanted, surrogacy laws are in his favor. but then i thought..... are they? because i was basing that off surrogacy laws in the us..... so i googled it!

surrogacy in japan is um, Extremely Controversial! first off, surrogates do have legal guardianship of the baby, the parents who want the baby have to go thru a formal adoption process, and if it goes to court, courts would most likely side with the surrogate.

BUT!!!!!! the welfare of the child is explicitly stated to be the first and foremost concern. at the end of the day, a married couple could very well win over a single man, especially a single man with antisocial personality disorder, if his diagnosis is on record anywhere. (of course this is all dependent on whether or not izaya GOES to court, and if celty can keep her helmet on and pose as a mute human woman)

either way, this all but confirms that shinra would be izaya's obgyn. imagine at every checkup, shinra is cooing over how well his baby is doing, completely oblivious to how upset izaya is <3 did u know that if you're trans and you get pregnant, you have to stop taking your hrt? too much testosterone can cause miscarriages- very high levels of natural T is actually why i'm infertile </3 so that can be a little extra angst for izaya~ <3

NEXT! THING!!

let me introduce u to the concept of aspd exceptions <3

it's..... kind of like the aspd version of a pwbpd's favorite person? kind of? not really

it's like. sometimes, for one person, the aspd will not be aspding. they're... literally the exception to how your symptoms work. things like empathy and yeah even remorse will work within like, normal operating levels. it's kind of weird tbh and kind of distressing? like, since you're not used to these emotions being there, especially with how strong they are, you have no way to cope with them. it sucks major ass and while it can being people closer together, it also sucks major ass. like.... if you never felt remorse before, suddenly feeling remorse over something you commonly do just because you did it to one Specific Person, leaves you with this very strong, very bad emotion, that you have no way to cope with!

and its not just remorse too, things like empathy fire off at full cylinders, so like... if ur used to just using cognitive empathy and logicing out things, imagine how much itd suck to suddenly be ass blasted by Functioning Normally Affective Empathy

anyway there's this one lady on tiktok who has aspd, and she talks about aspd symptoms a lot. she has a young child, and that child is her exception

get what i'm getting at here? ;) imagine izaya going thru all this then, while already distressed, dysphoric, and hormonal, shit like EMPATHY and strong STRONG emotional ties started kicking in wrt his baby and now he has to deal with extremely strong emotions he is not used to!

(and in case ur wondering, yes i do have exceptions, but who it exactly IS changes from time to time and the feeling ebbs away over time too so sometimes i don't have one)

anyway!!! i love this fic already. PLEASE dm me i need to go absolute ham over this with you. please. please . i can introduce u to my friends so thats like. 3 friends for the price of one

please tell me this ends happily i do not think i would be able to handle it if it did not. please. i am crying and begging and pissing . please.

[jarvis-cockhead]

I don't think we talk about institutionalised bullying in schools enough- it upsets me to think that most people are unaware it's even happening while actively being a part of it, since almost everyone in a school environment is actively involved in institutionalised bullying.

It all stems from the popularity hierarchies created amongst kids- from my experience there's a popular group at the top, most people exist in the middle and if you're unfortunate enough you fall into the small group at the bottom where it seems even associations with you are a negative impact on anyone elses standing. I had the unfortunate experience of being just within that bottom group, and though I did have a small group of good friends, I can't name a single person I ever interacted with in school who treated me with the same human decency they gave to anyone else.

The people who fall into this group tend to be anyone who doesn't quite fit in. I'm autistic, I struggled to communicate with anyone I didn't know very well (not helped by the fact that I didn't want to talk to people who'd only ever treated me more like an animal that's fun to poke with a stick) so I stuck out as someone who was different, and therefore apparently 'wrong' and my existence to them was no more than the opportunity for cruel jokes and cheap laughs. No doubt so many other neurodivergent/disabled kids face the same experience.

It sucks. It sucks so much and it continues to suck well past finishing school. When everyone looks down on you, when everyone around you actively harms you to some extent and treats you like you're nothing, every single school day of your life, it fucking sucks. It destroys you, it slowly chips away at you until you're nothing and by the end of it they're long gone without any apologies and you're still there, left to pick up the pieces and stick them back together again and it's hard. It's so hard.

And it's so hard to stop it while it's happening to you for two reasons. Firstly, it can look like nothing. You can't tell someone off for speaking to you in a condescending, patronising way, or for laughing when they have to do group work with you, or pretending to be friendly because they think it's funny, can you? It's so hard to punish because on their own these things look like nothing. But when it's a constant in your life, it all adds up. Secondly, no matter how often kids are told to be nice, while the self made unspoken hierarchy is there then nothing will change.

Sometimes, for some, I don't blame them. School's hard enough when you're not being bullied, no one wants to fall lower for fear of being the one at the bottom. You will always be standing on top of someone else to keep your place. And I'm ashamed to admit I did the same, there were a few times where I pushed someone under to just about keep myself afloat and I do hate myself for it now, but at the time I already had it bad- I was so scared of what 'worse' might've been.

I don't think there is an easy solution to institutionalised bullying. Teachers can teach as many lessons on bullying as they want but they go nowhere. The only possible out is to teach children tolerance and acceptance, to teach them to accept differences and treat each other with compassion and empathy, that being different doesn't make you weak, being different is ok. And this isn't just up to schools- it's up to all parents, guardians, siblings, anyone who can influence how these children see the world.

If you're a kid in school facing institutionalised bullying then I'm so so sorry. There is nothing wrong with you, and there's everything wrong with the people who don't know what kindness is. School doesn't last forever, you will get out, and you will heal. Until then, be strong.

If you're a kid in school and you have the power to do so, do your part to cut the cycle. Stand up for those at the bottom, or at the very least be nice. Always.

I will never be the same person I was before secondary school but I will continue to pick up my pieces and heal, and to anyone else who's doing the same: I'm sorry. It's not the sorry we deserve, but I'm sorry. I hope you're learning to live freely again, to feel comfortable being yourself again, it really is the least we deserve.

[fated2loveu]

I’m beyond done.

I do my best to improve, be there for my kids, be a good ‘friend’ and all I get in return literally just felt like a fuck you.

I was never once trying to do anything other than make sure everyone was okay and happy, but you know what he divorced me immediately over a misunderstanding and then slapped on poor communication etc etc etc. So I’m sorry I was making him comfortable but clearly “we” still suck at communicating because I would have stopped if he just told me. I honestly thought he was enjoying himself because he didn’t appear to hate it. I tried to pick things that weren’t threatening or pressuring because I knew he was worried I couldn’t let him go and I didn’t want him to think I was trying to win him back.

I’m done. He doesn’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m over it. Washed my hands of it.

I only care about the kids. So whatever they want they can have. Otherwise I’m gone. I’m out of his life.

Kiyo, you’re drunk. You need to rest and calm down. It sounds like Yuuki is drunk too because he’d never say those things to you. You know he worries about you and how what he says will affect you. He says he doesn’t love you anymore but worrying is a form of love even if it’s not the love you wish it was. You can’t keep acting like you don’t see that. He’s moved on. Let him be happy. You’re doing great with your progress and I’m proud of you.

The kids are most important here, but you can’t carry this anger around or they won’t want to be here or with you anymore. You’re getting older don’t waist your time with them being angry or sad, please. They love you and that’s what should matter.

Yuuki isn’t going anywhere. As long as the kids are around he’s going to be apart of our life so you have to get over that. I know you’re angry now but look when you sober up you’re going to be a wreck… I can’t help you any more than I already am. The rest is up to you. If you’re doing your best then that’s the best you can do. Neither you nor I can control Yuuki. If he wants nothing to do with you then he wants nothing to do with you.

Regardless of marital status we ARE a family. The dynamic may not be what you prefer but you can’t deny that fact. You and Yuuki may not be in love or married but we’re still family. You’re the parents of these kids. They need and love you both.

Look go to bed. I’m going to check on the kids and make sure they are still asleep. We can talk more in the morning okay?

Once all the kids graduate high school I’m leaving. I’m going to travel the world again. Escape this place. I hate it here. I’ve tried everything to make still living here bearable because we can’t just move, but it’s impossible. Everywhere I go or look I have to relive bad memories, good memories, and visions. I’m tired of these fucking visions.

I gave up my immortality for this? I should have just given Nobu my life instead.

The only thing that makes any of this worse is I never once felt like my feelings were valid. I’m just constantly being reprimanded and yelled at. I have all this hate towards me I just have to accept. I can’t sit down and just talk about anything without “becoming” some creep here to force myself on someone. I am constantly being misunderstood and misjudged with absolutely no empathy or compassion.

So when this is all over I’m gone. Goodbye.

Kiyoharu… go to bed, please? You are digging a hole you know you can’t climb out of…

Whatever, goodnight.

Goodnight…

[lilnasxvevo]

On season 2 of Doc Martin and getting really sick of his love interest Louisa. I don’t know where the show is going with this but it better be going towards “Louisa realizes that Martin is literally not capable of becoming less blunt and rude because it’s not on fucking purpose and she needs to suck it up and accept him for who he is” because any other lesson would be galling. Martin didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, and she has known from literally before they even officially met that Martin is socially graceless, low-empathy, and can’t turn off Doctor Mode to save his life. She had even seen earlier that week with the woman with the possible melanoma on her breast that none of these things have changed! He has changed as a person since moving to Portwenn but not in that respect!

I do have hope that the show is going somewhere reasonable with this because Louisa’s well-meaning but terrible advice to Peter of like, “Just let them make fun of you and see the humor in it and eventually they’ll see you’re one of them” backfired so terribly that Peter literally almost fucking died might signal that the writers are indeed aware that it was bad advice.

Peter is nine years old and he is fighting for his fucking life out here and that is quite honestly so depressing. He RAN AWAY earlier in season 1 because he felt that was easier than trying to convince his mom and/or teacher that he hadn’t done the thing he was accused of! Whenever there’s some problem with Peter his mom immediately defaults to “Peter, what did you do?” even when he wasn’t at fault (which he rarely is!) and his teacher wants to blame him for the fact that he’s bullied and friendless! The one kindred spirit he might have is Martin himself and I don’t think Martin is very interested in being a friend or mentor to him. No one’s giving him the help he needs and the only thing he’s done wrong is come across as a little bit rude and supercilious sometimes.

Honestly, I have great sympathy for Louisa and I do like her as a character at the end of the day, but I can’t help imagining if she was my hypothetical child’s teacher in real life and I sat down to a parent-teacher conference with her and she said “Your child is getting bullied but it’s his fault for not even trying to fit in. He should just laugh when the others make fun of him and then they’ll like him” and like ohhhhh my god I would. I would burn her fucking house down. More realistically, I would report her to everyone I could possibly report her to (the principal, the board of education, her college professors, her parents, her pastor, whoever) and then transfer my child to a new school where he wouldn’t ever have to even SEE that woman again. Fortunately for Louisa, Peter’s mom is a fuckup fucking idiot (I have great sympathy for her panic disorder, she is a dumbass for reasons unrelated to the panic disorder tho) so Louisa’s just going to get away with saying that shit to a fucking 9-year-old.

All right, I’ve been dancing around it but do you know what I think? You probably do. I think Martin and Peter are both autistic and that they don’t know how to say in a way Louisa will understand that “I AM TRYING! I try every day to not hurt people’s feelings and to fit in with my peers but I don’t know how! Every day I offend people and hurt their feelings and stick out like a sore thumb and I don’t KNOW how to stop! Don’t you think I would if I could?”

Louisa is so determined to make all of their failures their fault. I guess because it’s much easier to tell one or two people to fall in line than to wonder if maybe it’s the community that’s excluding them that needs to change.

[i-am-definitely-not-okay]

I'm so fucking jealous of my sister.

She is getting way more live and patience than I ever did growing up, and she acts like a brat.

Yes, she is hurting, but I did and do too ! And thankfully, she didn't go through at least one of the kind of violence I went through !

We both were bullied and had health issues. We both have a shitty (albeit different) dad. We both had no friends.

And we both wanted to quit school because it was unbearable.

And while she has our mom support and affection, at her age, I was sent to a psychiatric hospital because I tried to kill myself. When I was puking my guts out because of anxiety, I wasn't believed and got sent to the very same place that made me feel like this and got told to suck it up.

When she denounced her father's violent behavior, she didn't try to force her to go for long. When I did, she went as far as dragging me by my hair to send me to the guy who psychologically, physically, and sexually abused me. It only stopped because he didn't want to see a mentally ill kid. Not because she helped.

If I threw a tantrum, I was locked in a garage, screamed at, beaten with different types of objects, sometimes being left with bruises, choked against a wall or all of the above.

If she throws a tantrum, nothing really happens until she threatens her parents.

Honestly, typing this, I think I've realized something that my mother denies:

My sister was a planned pregnancy, my mom had to go through multiple miscarriages to have her.

I wasn't. I was a fail of 2 methods of contraception. And while my mother says that she realized she wanted me and that if she didn't, she would have just aborted me, the way she acts and talks to and about me makes me question if the real reason she didn't get an abortion was because of the stigma around it at the time.

I have multiple theories as to why she acts so differently with me :

As I said, she didn't really want me and just tolerated/silently resented me.

She sees my father in me.

I just wasn't worth the effort in her eyes.

She resents all the sacrifices she had to make to raise me.

Given what I know about him and what I experienced because of my father, I wouldn't at all be surprised if my creation happened because he raped her. I'm very serious here.

All in all, I think she likes me more now that I am an adult because I bring more money to the household with my disability benefits, am the only one who my sister sort of listens to, so I can act like a second parent, and now she can vent at me even more about her problems.

I was raised to believe that you have to excel at everything and be on your best behavior to deserve empathy, love, food, comfort, gifts, family, and respect. It was taken away as soon as I was seen as not deserving of it.

So yeah, I guess I just didn't deserve it and deserved to be treated like this.

At least I'm glad my sister doesn't have to go through some things as bad as me. But still, it hurts.

[forthehpfanboys]

Intact

Pair: George Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Life goes to hell when your mother, who happens to be Bellatrix LeStrange AND a Death Eater, finds out you joined the Order of the Phoenix with your boyfriend. 

Warnings: Swearing, child abuse?, I guess it's more like assault? Dark, probably graphic?? 

Notes: 100/10 on this one. Honestly it was fun to write-

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

You knew the moment you stepped into the house she knew and it wasn’t a good thing. The house was borderline destroyed from the glass shattered on the floor from the ‘family portrait’ on the floor to the burn marks across walls. Your shoes crunched as you walked across the remains of the crystal chandler that's been in the house for generations. You entered the living room and was immediately struck with a spell that had your black slamming into the wall. 

"You rat! You sniveling, useless, pathetic little rodent!” Her hoarse voice revealed how long she’d been screaming. She kicked the coffee table in the center of the room off to the side. “I should've known!" your mother screamed, her wand tightening in her hand. Her arm stayed stretched out, showing her lack of hesitance and empathy toward you. "You were always so ungrateful! So unbelievably selfish!" You held your head in your hands. A headache was throbbing beside your temples- you must've really hit your head on the wall- and her screaming was not helping it out at all. Her yells echoed in the house, almost shaking the shattered windows of the living room.

"What are you going on about?" you asked, finally raising your head to look at her. Her makeup was messy, her hair was an actual rats nest and her eyes were darker than you've ever seen. She looked insane, more so than usual.

"Don't act like you don't know! You betrayed the Dark Lord for that.. That boy!" Bellatrix screeched out, making long steps across the shard covered carpet to corner you. "Honestly! A Weasley, (Y/n)! A blimey, no good for nothing blood traitor! I raised you better than that!"

You stared at her with wide eyes. She knew. Oh, of course she knew who you were sneaking out almost every night to see! She probably found out herself or maybe Draco tattled, that coward. It didn’t matter how she knew, she knew you were with a Weasley, sneaking out almost every night to see him, the other Weasleys and the Order. 

"Raised me? I'm sorry, raised me?!" You genuinely had to laugh at that. "You can not take credit for how I came out! You didn't raise me!  No, no even close! You dropped me off at the Malfoys like a stray dog.” You didn’t even flinch when she jabbed her wand right under your chin, a sneer growing on her features. 

You tried to ignore how much it hurt to be ditched by your own mother, forced to swivel and basically praise the Malfoys for taking in someone like you. You were nothing compared to Draco. Everyone wanted a compliant son like Draco, but no, you had to be different, see your mother for how she really was. You could remember when she showed up one random day after graduating your 4th year, claiming she loved you, missed you, how times got too tough to have a baby boy around the house. The thought now made you sick. She didn’t care about you for fourteen years, but suddenly she does. Since then, life has been hell. Except around George. 

“I should’ve left you on the streets.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she grabbed your shoulder. Her unusually sharp nails seemed to phase right through your shirt. “I should’ve drowned you in a river, I should’ve given you to the Dark Lord himself.” Her nails dug deeper into your skin, puncturing it, leading to small droplets of red to seep into the cotton of your shirt. Your pain must’ve made itself known because she smirked and tossed her head back in loud laughter that made your temples throb again. “I should’ve killed you myself.” She pulled away from you, stepping back a few paces before turning swiftly to face you once again. She did a curtsy, not taking her eyes off you. 

“Clearly, there’s a lot we both should’ve done.” Your voice cracked as you pulled out your own wand from your pocket, holding it tightly. You stepped forward a few spaces and bowed, understanding what she wanted. She wanted you to suffer. She casted a spell before you could even blink, her laugh echoed in the house again.

“Crucio!” 

Your body slammed against the wall a second time, except this time, it felt like your heart was actually going to stop. It felt like every nerve was being ripped in half one by one, like you were being burned alive but drowning in an icy river at the same time. You physically couldn’t stop the scream of pure agony that ripped from your throat. 

You crashed to the floor as your muscles tensed up. The spell lifted before another scream could fly from your lips, giving your now aching muscles a break. You curled into a tight  ball, your knees to your chest, as your.. ‘Mother’ let out yet another cackling laugh. Honestly, you weren’t sure she ever stopped.

“What’s wrong, (Y/n)? Too much for you? Maybe I should just call you Weasley. You’re just as pathetic and dimwitted as they are.” She giggled, bouncing on her feet, before doing a spin. “Oh, I do love your scream though.” 

You were trying to blink through the tears and ignore the way your gut was twisting itself up. You officially envied anyone who said crap about Longbottom's parents- they didn’t deserve this. Through the tears, your eyes landed on your wand, just in arms reach. With a shaky, weak hand, you reached for it, an equally shaky breath leaving your lips when your fingertips grazed across the wood. It was so close. that was, until a heal came to rest into the back of your hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my insane rambling is too boring for you, is it?” Bellatrix spat out. She lowered herself onto one knee, putting testing her weight against the bones in your skin. You sucked in a breath, your eyes squinting shut. While she was down there, she decided to go on a tangent on how her life was so difficult, how she couldn’t have her love with her, whoever the fuck that was, and how she was a good mother. 

“You’re such a bitch.” You whispered out. While the witch was so worried about your hand and spitting all over your face with her sob story, you’d managed to grab your wand. You threw a punch, right to her crooked grin. The punch wasn’t your strongest, but it gave you enough leeway to wiggle your hand free and aim your wand at her, casting stupefy to throw her back. Before she could do anything else, you booked it out the door, running as fast as you could. You didn’t look behind you when she started screaming again.

“Ingrate! Go run off to those pathetic blood-traitors! You deserve to be with your own kind! A bunch of filthy low-lives!” 

You rounded the corner and apparated to where you knew they would be, where you’d be safe. With a crisp pop, you were in front of the door of none other than Sirius’ Black’s home. You didn’t bother knocking, you didn’t need too. You stumbled into the house, effectively cutting off everyone’s casual conversation in the living room. You ignored Molly’s gentle calls and Remus trying to see if you were ok. You just sprinted up the stairs, calling for your boyfriend. 

You didn’t even realize you were crying until your body collided with George’s, his arm wrapping tightly around your waist while the other went straight to your hair. He rocked your back and forth, his voice whispering everything was going to be ok in your ear. You didn’t even notice the crowd forming behind you.

“Cupcake, I’m going to need you to tell me what happened, ok?” He gently pulled you from his chest, his hands cupping your wet cheeks to wipe away your tears.

“She knows. Someone told her- or- or she followed us but she knows and-” You took in a shaky breath, being gently dragged back into a hug by the ginger. You couldn’t see it, but George, while never usually one to jump to violence, was close to throwing hands.

“LeStrange?” He asked, wanting clarification over who the ‘she’ actually was. When you nodded into his chest, his arms tightened around you. “Ok,’ he whispered, “ok, how about we go assess the damage, hmm?” He guided you down the hall, ignoring the questions about what happened, and taking you straight to the clean bathroom. 

George shut the door once you were sitting on the edge of the bathtub. He wasn’t quite sure if he was more heartbroken over the fact that you were shaking, struggling to breath and bouncing your leg rapidly or pissed that she dared to lay a hand on you. He knelt in front of you, a sad smile across his lips as he rubbed your knees. “What did she do, love?” 

You told him about the wrecked house, the yelling, the headache, the tiny scabs on your shoulder and how she fucking stood on your hand. You left out the curse, worried he’d actually go over there himself and hex the daylights out of her. No one would admit it but any Weasley could easily go from lovable dorks to murderous slayers in 3.4 seconds if provoked correctly. 

“Can I see your shoulder? I want to make sure it won’t get infected with whatever she carries.” His fingers gently pulled at the hem of your shirt, his eyes staring into yours as he waited for your approval. You suddenly found it hard to speak. He wasn’t gentle all the time, but when he was, it always stole your breath. 

When you finally nodded and raised your arms, he slipped your shirt over your head. The fabric slipped from his grasp as he stared at your bare chest, shoulders and arms. You could see every emotion flickering past his irises- worry, sadness, anger. 

“What?” You followed his gaze. Along your chest, stomach and shoulders, a bright red pattern of welts had formed. How you didn’t notice, you weren’t sure, but now that you were looking at them, they started throbbing. The marks seemed to mimic lightning bolts, but rounder, breaking apart and covering your body, but they all started at one spot. An angry lopsided organic shape stood out below your right peck, just on your rib cage- that was where the spell hit. The marks didn’t stop at your shoulders, or your neck. They traveled down to your very fingertips and a few made themselves known just along your jaw and across your cheek.

“(Y/n),” His use of your first name unnerved you, “what aren’t you telling me?” George’s hand reached out to gently touch where the bitch’s spell hit you while his eyes flicked up to yours. You stayed quiet, your chest shaking as you took in another nervous breath. You licked your lips, thinking over your next words carefully.

“She may have used the Cruciatus Curse on me.” You looked down at your hands, fiddling with your fingers. You heard him take a sharp breath. He whispered a quick ‘can you give me a moment?’ before walking out of the bathroom. You heard his heavy footsteps travel down the hall before a door slammed open, rattling the mirror hanging on the bathroom wall. 

“Freddie, I’m going to fucking lose it!” George’s voice carried easily through the hallway, causing you to jump. “No, I will not calm down! Shut up and listen!” The younger twin never spoke to his brother like that. “The crucio curse, Fred! The fucking, the, you know! For- I swear-” The door to the shared room slammed shut, the rattling mirror doing it’s thing again as you sat awkwardly in the bathroom alone. George kept going on and on about stuff you could no longer make out, but you could assume they were death threats sworn to come true.

After about 2 minutes, George came back, Fred trailing right behind him, a baggy Irish themed quidditch shirt and a pair of red sweatpants in his arms. George set the clothes down while Fred looked at the marks. 

“Bloody hell.” Fred sat down next to you. “Do they still hurt?” He let out a sigh of relief when you shook your head no. “Thank Merlin for that.” 

While Fred was chatting away, George had knelt in front of you again, his hand on the ball joint of your shoulder, his wand in his other hand. He whispered a quick healing curse on the five scabs before handing you the Irish t-shirt. 

“You ok?” George asked once the shirt was on. His hands had come back to your knees at some point and you weren’t quite sure when, but you appreciated the familiar warmth. 

“I don’t know. “ Your eyes were cast downward at the marks across your forearms and wrist, your eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I… Don’t you think they’re.. Meeeh?” You raised your arms a little, referring to the scars. 

“Really?” The red-head trouble makers asked in unison, causing you to turn between them a few times. 

“What?” 

“Sunshine.” George spoke up from the floor, his hands twiddling together as he got your attention. He smiled a little when your eyes looked down into his. “Remember Umbridge?”

“Of course I do. I was there- I left with you guys-”

“Hush, I’m trying to be inspirational.” His words cause you to grin and snort. “Well, then you must remember the quill.” He brought his hand into your view, showing what he thought was oh so important he told you to hush. The scars from the quill were still there, only faded, but still extra pale against his normal tone. “You could hardly see ours anymore, love.”

You reached out for his hand hesitating, but in the end, you were running your fingers across the skin, noting the change in textures. You turned to Fred, who flashed you the same grin and held his hand up, revealing the same scars. 

“Right..” You smiled, turning back to the twin you called yours. “They fade but-”

“-let you tell stories that strengthen you.” The twins finished, a wider smile on both of their faces. Fred stood up, ruffling your hair before heading out of the bathroom. George stood up after handing you the sweats. 

“I’ll let you get dressed here, cupcake. Come on back to the room whenever you're ready.” George planted a kiss to your cheek before planting one swift one to your lips and heading out of the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him.

“What would Molly say?” You asked, changing your pants and confirming the scars did run down to your ankles.

“After what you went through? She wouldn’t have the heart to make you stay anywhere else.” George called through the door before walking down the hallway to his room. You splashed some cold water on your face, hoping to wash away some of the trauma today would leave behind. 

Once your face was dry, you walked from the bathroom, to the shared room with the twins. You didn’t bother knocking once again, knowing you were more welcomed here than anywhere else. You plopped yourself on the bed, besides your boyfriend and snuggled into his side. Sure today would leave scars, mental and physical, but as George’s arms wrapped around you, you realized he was all you would need to stay intact in the end. 

And yeah, George did keep his promise for revenge in the end.

[dadsbongos]

Greetings! I got this idea for danganronpa AU where Nagito is like ghost "living" (or haunting idk-) his old house and the reader moves into that house and they slowly became closer and yk<3

hi i love this concept :)

Request for: Nagito Komaeda Warnings: nagito’s backstory, slight religious overtones, we breach minor ghost-fucker territory (but no actual ghost-fucking), no-killing game au also ~~~

The house itself was rather nice. Nothing too luxurious for who the previous owner was aside from the obnoxiously fancy chandelier hanging in the den.

The realtor was hesitant to explain that the reason it was selling so comically cheap was, in fact, due to the belief of a ghost. Not just any, however. It was the previous owner’s ghost.

People who even stepped into the house could feel his chilling touch. Hear quiet, shaky whispers in the night. The fireplace would crackle and burst to life at strange times with nobody near it. Visitors and almost-buyers alike would thrust their warnings to stay away upon anybody who so much as looked at the home.

But that didn’t matter much - a house was a house and it’s not like the ghost was malicious from description. Just… annoying. Perhaps a little eerie, but again, not harmful. Everybody escaped without physical injury. So, why not buy it?

Maybe the ghost just needed a friend? Death was probably a lonely time.

Bought on Tuesday. Moved in Wednesday. Finished unpacking… still pending.

It’s not like (Y/n) had anybody to impress anyways. She’d made the move for a fresh start; new faces, new stories.

The bumps began on Friday.

Sometimes they were taps. Sometimes crashes followed by the gentle rapping against the walls, as if to apologize for the loud noise.

She’d stayed through the month, undeterred by any of the ghosts’ activities.

Then the happenings seemed a little more… intimate.

A photo slowly sliding out from beneath the fridge, at first.

Three people in frame. From left to right, there was a figure with shoulder-length pink hair and a smile to make the heavens jealous - then white hair to rival a cloud-marshmallow love child, skin sickly pale and body wastingly thin - finally, brown hair with an ahoge sticking out like an antenna and posture that almost made him taller than the one in the middle. Well, not really, but attempting counted, right? 

“Which one’s you?” she asked the air, whether she was too tired, or simply didn’t care enough, to be embarrassed was irrelevant. 

A single droplet of water, from a leak she didn’t know existed until this very moment, fell from the ceiling before splotching over the face of the one in the middle.

“White hair, heavy eye bags?”

There was no response, but she took it as a yes anyway. What a pretty, pretty face. In a tragic way.

Because he did look rather ill. Frail build and purple hues under his eyes. Pretty but suffering - it made her feel bad. Of course, she already knew he was dead, but even so - suffering should always inspire empathy rather than romance.

And again, he was dead, so the likelihood of a romance between them anyway was slim to none. None. Unless she suddenly dropped dead, there would be no sweet kisses in the morning or gentle hugs from behind as one of them makes dinner. Maybe when she died, he’d be available for a ghostly date while the house gets put back on the market.

(Y/n) chuckled at the sudden thought of lightning cracking into her home, despite the sunny weather, and striking her dead where she stood. Ridiculous, but God liked ridiculous things.

The sudden thought hit her - what if that old photo was old old? Maybe he was eighty when he died and she just subconsciously signed herself up for a date with an elderly ghost?

Shaking her head, (Y/n) scolded herself for the thought. She’d already be dead by then, it wouldn’t matter what age he was...

Then, it was the scribbling on spare papers. Always specifically spares. Double copies she had put in recycling. Scraps. Even on the backs of paper-esque trash. It was an oddly considerate move for a ghost, though to be fair, she’d never met a ghost before and couldn’t tell if it was out-of-place or not for them.

The words always appeared when she was out of the room. Leaving to grab something and coming back to find the out-dated schedule for work out of recycling and on her desk with crayon sprawled over it. 

Hi 

Eloquently said, in her opinion.

“Hi?” she looked around the room, “Can you not talk? I thought people said they heard whispers…”

A bang in the other room drew her out. When there was nothing out of place, she returned to her desk only to be met with more words.

I’m Nagito Komaeda :)

“Dodging the question, huh?”

The process repeated. Bang. Nothing out of the ordinary. Return. New words.

Sorry :(

“Don’t apologize,” (Y/n) shrugged off before moving to her computer, “I’m just gonna look you up.”

A series of bangs - now that she truly listened, it sounded like a fist pounding to the drywall - resonated through the home. She did not get up nor did she pause her actions of Googling the man known as Nagito Komaeda. 

Until a piece of paper flew in from the open door.

Bad idea

“Probably, yeah,” she huffed, moving back to her computer.

Nagito Komaeda, born April 28th, first popped up as the sole survivor in an old plane hijacking report. Both parents, all plane staff, and the hijackers left dead after the plane crash caused by a meteor strike. Then he came up as a survivor of an old serial kidnapper/killer. Then as a boy who’d inherited the entirety of his parents’ fortune and won a large sum from a lottery ticket he’d found in the trash bag he was stuffed in by his kidnapper. Then as a Hope’s Peak graduate under the title Ultimate Lucky Student.

Finally, as a 25-year-old man who’d miraculously survived ten years post-diagnosis with frontotemporal dementia and advanced lymphoma before his death.

“Holy shit,” she nearly choked on her own shock, “You weren’t boring, that’s for sure.”

Another paper, this time written in marker as if he could sense that she didn’t wish to get up. Another strangely considerate move.

Thanks 

You’re not creeped out?

“I mean, it’s more sad than creepy,” her eyes scanned over a single line in the article once again.

“Nagito Komaeda, after all his fortunes and misfortunes alike, died at age 25, after ten years of illness, surrounded by friends who took the place of family. Out of respect, no interviews were conducted, but anybody, anyone at all even from a quick glance, could tell - Nagito Komaeda will surely be missed.” 

Her eyes watered slightly as she clicked out of the Togami Publications, laughing at the pure awkwardness of her situation, “Oh my God, that’s really fucking sad. I’m sorry your life sucked.”

Another paper.

It’s fine

I was just wasting space anyway :)

“No, you were- “ she gestured to her computer screen before covering her eyes in shame of her tears, “You meant so much to your friends.”

She expected memorial posts, maybe not as many as there were, but she saw them coming. What she didn’t see coming, however, was that each and every one would be dearly heartfelt - not a single one was disingenuous or vague in the slightest. She also didn’t see herself crying by the end of her little search.

But there she was.

Something light floated into her lap. A tissue.

“Oh my fucking God,” (Y/n) choked up again, picking up the tissue with a small smile, “Stop, you’re a ghost, you’re supposed to be scary and making me leave, not helping me dry my tears…”

Another paper atop the slowly growing pile.

Was that a ghostphobic remark?

“Oh, I’m keeping that one,” she stood, sniffling as she wiped away her tears, and picked up the last paper, nodding to herself as she muttered, “Yep. This one’s going on the wall.”

~~

Nagito stopped whispering because people ran when he did. His voice was always hideous, he didn’t to be reminded. Besides, (Y/n) seemed to prefer the paper method - she hung up her favorites along the walls of her office and if a visitor teased her about it she would ignore them. It was admirable, how their grins and giggles rolled off her back like water droplets over a duck.

He wished he could be like that.

Could have been.

He still had trouble with that.

Has.

Nagito looks up from his spot at the kitchen table where (Y/n) was cooking for herself. She seemed so at-peace in this house, and he’s glad for that. He never liked living alone and everyone else seemed to hate having him there. Not that he blamed them much.

Even so, he much prefers (Y/n) over any past guest as his living counterpart of the house.

She even leaves chairs open for him at the table; he smiles widely at the thought, patting his thighs and kicking out his legs in his seat- just like now!

She’d pulled out the chair upon entering the kitchen before calling out for him that she’d be cooking. She even knew he liked watching her cook!

It was selfish of him to crave so much attention, but in the end, Nagito was already dead so… did it really matter when he indulged in his wants more than he should?

Divine punishment isn’t real and he likes being around her, so why should he bother hiding himself away in the attic?

(Y/n) moved around the house with little to no liveliness, it made him chuckle. Her shoulders drooped and footsteps heavy, it was fun. To feel like he wasn’t alone.

He hoped she felt the same. That he was a friend… or, undead companion?

He hoped she would stay and not move out.

He hoped they could be real friends one day… if it’s not too much to ask, that once she dies, she’ll meet him. The real him. 

That would be heaven.

[crashingmeteorz]

rich kid runaways (ft. yuexzukoxtoph friendship)

for my 100 Followers Celebration - credit to @aroacebitchboi for this amazing idea!

zuko faces his father in the agni kai, and when he is told what he must do in order to be welcome in his homeland again, he just says “fuck this” and runs away.

he’s not sure where he’s gonna go, just that he has to get out, and fast, because his dad’s gonna kill him. like. for real. so he stows away on a fire navy ship headed Literally Anywhere Else (and maybe the soldiers don’t care! because he’s 13 and hurting children is a disgrace! maybe they sneak him food and blankets idk!)

yue, meanwhile, in the north pole, has just been told she is going to enter an arranged marriage for the good of her people when she turns 16. respectfully, she asks her father what exactly this marriage will do, politically speaking. the north isn’t at war with itself, in fact they’re more united than ever. maybe if it were a southern water tribe boy, sure, but no, it’s going to be a northern boy.

her father just tells her it’s imperative to the stability of the tribe that they uphold tradition. yue, realizing this is bullshit, even at the tender age of 13, says “fuck this”, and runs away.

she is all but screwed without waterbending or any practical survival knowledge - except, she’s been chosen by the moon spirit. when she steals a boat and heads south, the moon takes pity on its ward and keeps her safe, at least on her waterbound journey. once she lands on the northern shores of the earth kingdom, yue depends on the kindness of strangers to survive.

zuko, meanwhile, is angry and mistrustful and afraid when he ends up on the western shores of the earth kingdom, and he depends entirely on his determination to survive. he learns to live off the land the hard way, and avoids major cities and towns for fear of being found out as a firebender. of course, if he’s ever spotted, he’s regarded with pity and empathy because of the festering burn on his face, but zuko doesn’t realize that.

yue never stays in one place too long, bouncing from family to family and learning more skills in a few months than she was ever taught in her whole life up north. she cooks and cleans and sews, yes, but she also farms and skins hunted animals and does house repairs. she is happily taken into homes because of her ability to heal - though never a waterbender, yue still learned basic healing with the other northern women, and can manage even bad wounds all on her own.

afraid she’ll be recognized by her vibrant hair, however, yue continues her journey south, considering running to the south pole for sanctuary. she wonders how their women are treated. zuko, meanwhile, lives alone in the wilderness most of the time, and moves very slowly up the west coast.

they’re 14 when their paths cross. three fire nation soldiers harass yue while she’s journeying along a rural road, asking her for a made-up toll. usually trading in work, yue has no money to speak of. the soldiers threaten violence, and, though he is afraid of being caught by his countrymen, zuko was never one to let bullies have power over the innocent.

he emerges from the forest, swords in hand, attacking the soldiers. at first it seems like he has the upper hand - and then he stumbles, and the soldiers laugh and pull him up to beat him. zuko panics and relies on instinct - firebending at the soldiers and burning them badly. they run away yelling, and zuko panics, certain that he’ll be caught out. he goes to run, but yue stops him.

“you’re hurt,” she says, pointing to where he’d been cut by the soldiers’ swords. “please, let me help you. it’s the least i can do.”

“you’re not scared of me?” zuko asks in confusion, looking around wildly, afraid his father will pop out of the trees and strike him down.

“you saved me,” yue says, just as confused, because between the rescue and the obvious burn mark, she doesn’t really think this boy would have any reason to hurt her. also he’s kinda shrimpy, and yue, who has built up some strength through hard work, is pretty sure she could take him. “come on, i have some herbs. is there clean water nearby?”

shocked that anyone in the earth kingdom wouldn’t call for zuko’s arrest on the spot, zuko leads yue to a stream in the forest. yue silently patches his wounds, and then eventually asks if she can get a look at his eye. apart from the initial work of the fire nation healers, zuko hadn’t really done much to treat his eye, and it’s so badly crusted he can barely see out of it. when yue reaches for him, he jerks away.

“i don’t need your help!” he snaps, standing and shaking himself off. “if it weren’t for you, i wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.”

“excuse me.” says yue, standing as well, because who is he to talk to her that way? “i didn’t ask you for help, you chose to do that. and you’re mad at those soldiers, not me, so why don’t you try being a little nicer?”

they stare at each other furiously for a moment. then yue sighs and says “i think i can help you with your eye, so that you can see. let me do that and i’ll leave you alone.”

it’s painful, and a very slow process, but with water warmed by zuko’s bending (”just heat up the water.” “someone could see!” “we’re in the middle of a literal forest! who’s spying! the frogs???”) and a few medicinal herbs, yue manages to clear away most of the crust and dead skin over zuko’s eye. when he finally opens it again, he’s shocked to find that he can see.

“well, i won’t bother you anymore,” yue says huffily, moving to leave the forest. as she does, she realizes she doesn’t know where the heck she is. zuko’s still marveling at how different the world looks with two eyes.

“umm, which way is out?” yue asks him. zuko snaps back to reality and says “oh, um. i’ll show you.” because he is, admittedly, grateful.

of course, when they try to leave the forest, they run into bandits and barely escape. then yue reccomends they take a country road, and zuko reluctantly agrees, except they run into more bandits. after the fourth round of bandits in two weeks, they’re convinced they’ve been cursed with bad luck.

“can we just go to a town or a city?” yue asks, panting from their desperate escape. “we’re not having much luck living in the wild.”

“i was fine until you showed up!” zuko retorts, panting as well. “fine! then i’ll leave!” yue yells back.

“wait,” zuko says, and yue turns, tapping her foot impatiently. “i’m sorry,” zuko says, to yue’s shock, because if her few weeks with this kid who calls himself lee has taught her anything, it’s that he does not apologize. “i don’t really...understand, um, local people and-“

“let me do the talking,” yue says, gentle as always, reaching for zuko’s arm. he smiles at her, a real, happy smile, and they make their way to the nearest earth kingdom town.

after that, yue and zuko are inseparable. they argue a lot, naturally, but they become good friends, too. yue says she always wanted a sibling, zuko says he always wanted a different sibling, so it’s nice, to have each other. without going into too much detail, they bond over their shared experiences of pre-determined destinies and overbearing parental figures (“my father said i have to get married for the good of the people! what does that even mean?” “tell me about it, my father got mad that i talked out of turn, so he tried to kill me.” “...he what?” “hahaha just kidding that’s not a normal thing that happens.”) no matter how scary it gets, they agree, the earth kingdom makes them feel freer than they ever have before.

does the food they cook suck because they’ve never had to cook in their lives? yes. do they sometimes put all four feet in their mouths because of how they speak to the poor people of the earth kingdom? yes. have they ticked off a lot of fellow teenagers for acting bratty? yes. (“what, so, you don’t have palaces around here?” yue asks. “yeah, where are the royal gardens?” zuko asks. “leave before we rock your shit.” says Every Teenager They Meet.) but at the end of the day, they’re happy.

at 15 they reach a city called gaoling. by now they can both do enough odd jobs that they always have some pocket money on them, although yue still struggles to behave in a way that isn’t dainty and delicate, and zuko still struggles with basic social skills.

they’re getting ready to move along, when they’re stopped by a girl. she’s young, about 11, and entirely blind. she’s being chased by a loud crowd, who seem to be just around the corner.

“please!” the girl says. “help hide me! they’re after me! i think they’re going to kidnap me!” yue and zuko, who are the captains of the child-protection-squad, immediately move to protect the girl.

“this way!” zuko says, and the three of them run down narrow streets and alleyways, in and around shops, until they’re stopped at the city gate by the mob going after the girl.

“alright, kid,” the leader, a tall, buff man with long greasy hair says. “you’ve stolen from us for the last time.”

“how many time do i have to tell you?” the girl bellows, much different than her sweet and innocent pleas from before. “i won fair and square! you’re just mad because you got your butt kicked by a little girl!”

before zuko and yue can even react, the girl pummels the mob of men with an avalanche of rocks, and then launches the earth they’re standing on into the air, landing them far outside of the city limits in a dizzying display.

“woo! that was awesome!” the girl says gleefully pumping her arms. zuko and yue are both trying to wrap their heads around what just happened. “thanks for the help. not that i needed it, i just didn’t want my parents’ guards to see me bending...i wasn’t really planning on running away, but, i mean, i doubt they’ll even notice i’m gone-”

“just a second,” yue says, collecting herself. zuko’s jaw is still hanging open. “who are you?”

the girl grins smugly. “name’s toph. who are you?”

i cannot fully express how much i love this idea. top-notch. god-tier. thank you again!

[ciggylungz]

Worship me- chapter.2

Worship me- Chapter 2

Warnings: abusive family, arranged marriage, talk of sexual abuse/ child marriage, talk about religion and other triggering themes. (lots of angst as well)

Word count: 2.6k

Last chapter recap: Her fingers gripped her phone tightly as she typed in his number, writing him a text

‘Harry, it’s Y/n are you awake?”

His response was quick, maybe 30 seconds after she’d sent hers

‘yea, what’s up? You alright? Feeling better?’

A fresh wave of tears were building in her eyes, shaky fingers typing out her next message

‘no, Harry please help me. I’m scared please.’

The word that best describes Harrys current state is : panic.

As soon as he read her response his heart started to race, hands itching to clench into fists and his stomach felt like it’s been punched by Mike Tyson. He didn’t understand why he felt this surge of emotion, he’s not used to experiencing empathy or concern for people other than himself. He was a cold, confident and described as a ‘tough guy’ so he really didn’t know how to handle the way he was feeling right now, especially over his classmate. Harry was the type of guy who fucks and dumps a girl, he didn’t really care much but with y/n for some reason it was different and he didn’t know if he likes it or not.

‘what? What’s wrong Y/n?’

He was gnawing on his lip waiting for her reply, his forehead breaking out into a cold sweat from the stress when she took over three minutes to reply.

‘my parents hurt me Harry, please help me’

Immediately he was on his feet, marching towards his mothers room since she took his car keys at night, trying to prevent him from sneaking out at least on school nights. He didn’t care it was midnight, someone asked him for help and he was going to try his fucking hardest to do so.

“Mum! Mum please open the door! I need my keys it’s an emergency” Harry felt a bit guilty about pounding on his sleeping mothers door at such a late hour, but he has to focus on something else right now. When a sleepy confused Anne cracked her door open, squinting at the hall lights he took his chance to barge in, “Harry, what are you doing? What happened baby?” the boy plucked his car keys from the little bowl on her dresser turning back to his confused mum. “I’m sorry, I’ll explain later but my friend needs help. It’s Y/n, you know the girl I did a project with? The sweet one? She needs help. I love ya’ mum I’ll be safe I swear.” As soon as he entered the room, he left slipping his shoes on as he slipped out the door to rush to his car, fumbling with his phone to send another text to her.

‘I’m on my way, what’s the plan? Are your parents asleep?’

He cursed to himself when his nervous hands dropped his keys under his seat while on their way to be shoved into the ignition. His ringtone sounding deafening to his ringing ears.

‘They are still awake. This was a bad idea, I’m sorry for bothering you. I shouldn’t of overreacted.’

Y/n was shaking, her parents had come knocking on her door just as Harry texted her about his whereabouts and she immediately knew she wouldn’t be getting out of there and she was stuck doing damage control through a text while trying to stuff her phone under her mattress so her parents didn’t break down her door. She somehow managed to do it all in 10 seconds, swinging her door open to reveal her mother. Y/n shivered from the look her mother was giving her. She knew what was going to happen and she wanted to vomit from it. Her parents would force her to do ‘purity checks’ whenever they thought she was disobeying god. It was a humiliating experience, painful and it made her feel sick every time. she felt stripped of all security and privacy when her mother did a gynecologist type exam on the young girl to make sure her hymen is still intact justifying it saying, ‘when you disrespect god, we have to make sure you aren’t doing it from lack of purity’ ‘no husband will want a dirty girl’ ‘it makes god happy’, but it didn’t make Y/n happy. It made her scared, it felt wrong but she knew she didn’t have a choice and she was royally fucked if Harry was still on his way there.

Her tongue was numb from how hard she had bitten down on it, silent tears puddling at the side of her face while her mother did her ‘check’ on her daughter. Y/n was mortified, felt entirely violated and was trying to resist the urge to vomit. Y/n has started to disassociate during stressful times like this. She forced her mind to go else ware so she wouldn’t completely break down. If she let her mind convince her she was on the beach, wrapped in a warm towel with the sunsetting it made the reality less loud to her.

Her lucid state vanished as her mother removed herself from between her legs, noting she was still ‘pure’ and ‘valuable for trade’. The dehumanizing way of speaking, truly and deeply made Y/n feel like nothing more than an object. A possession that’s meant to be bought and sold, rather then the young woman she was growing to be. Feeling worthless was something she was becoming accustomed too even when it made her feel like maybe, life wasn’t worth living anymore. She didn’t like feeling like this.

The tears didn’t seem to stop while she walked into her bathroom, dipping her head down to take a sip of water from the faucet to try to soothe her pounding head.

When she was sure everyone else was asleep, she felt grabbed her phone from under her mattress finding loads of messages from Harry.

‘what? Love, you’re scaring me what’s going on?’

‘I’m coming anyway, I don’t care.’

‘I’m outside, whenever you see this let me know because I’m not leaving I’m parked by the end of the block.’

‘Y/n please, please answer me. you’re not okay I know it’

y/n was conflicted. She felt trapped, her way out was so close yet felt so fucking far. She didn’t know what to do, her head felt like it was going to explode.

‘sorry, my mum came in and did a purity check. Had to hide my phone. I’m sorry I scared you I shouldn’t have said anything. You can go home I’m sorry Harry.’

Harry lifted his forehead off his steering wheel when he heard his phone go off, a frown etched deep on his face while he read it. What the fuck is a purity check? Why is she defending her parents? Why is she apologizing for asking for help? It didn’t sit right with him, not one bit. Harry had met y/n’s father once at a school event and he didn’t like the vibe he gave off in the slightest. He reminded him of how the handsy priests looked at the young girls at school, her father had cold eyes was basically emotionless and spoke about Y/n like she was a dog or an object. It made his skin crawl then, and now more than ever his alarm bells were going off. Harry was good at reading people and energy they gave off. He was associated with drug dealers, and other not so savory characters and he had a good reader on for when they were sketchy, or untrustworthy and her father definitely gave that vibe.

‘no, y/n I’ll break into your house if I have to. You either come with me willingly or I come in and get you. I’m not leaving without you.’

His response woke Y/n up a bit. She was reminded why she asked for help earlier, the feelings coming back completely. And so, she listened. When she heard the soft snores start to grow louder coming from her parents’ room, she started quietly gathering up a small bag with her phone, a charger, her school bag and a toothbrush. She was still dressed in her school uniform from earlier, she never had a chance to change. Her knuckles were swollen, bruised and aching while she zipped the bag tiptoeing down the steps and fleeing through the door in only her tight clad feet dashing towards Harry’s car.

 Harry jumped when he heard the sudden knocking on her car window, seeing Y/n he immediately unlocked the door breathing a sigh of relief when she hopped in the car. He felt better knowing she was with him now, she was safe for the time being, and as soon as he looked at her, she burst into tears. Big fat tears coming from her pretty eyes, rushing down her cheeks as choked sobs rattled through her throat. He felt a foreign pang in his chest seeing the usual sunny girl breaking down in front of him. “Here, hey c’mere.” He spoke softly to her, his hands moving to bring her over into his lap using his free one to pull a lever so the seat slides back to give them enough space for her to be held securely in the older boys embrace. “it’s okay, everything’s gonna be alright. You’re safe, I’m not going to hurt you. Not gonna let them hurt you either. Breathe Y/n breathe, god you’re shaking like a leaf darling.” He kept his tone level and soft while he spoke to her, stroking her back and hair trying to calm her down enough so he can drive them somewhere safer.

Y/n sat herself up a bit to wipe her eyes, only then did Harry see the damage on her poor hands. It looked horrible, how someone’s knuckles look after punching a concreate wall. He gently took her hands in his, looking over the injury sucking in a pained breath “Christ love, what did they do to you? Does it hurt? can you bend them?” she nodded and showed him how she could still ball her fists even with the bad pain, which showed him they weren’t broken.

“C-can we le-leave please? Y-you can drop m-me at the school and I’ll c-camp out there till we have class. I don’t have anywhere e-else to. I c-can go back home if yo-you want me to-“ she was rambling, she felt like a burden. Y/n really didn’t know where to go from here, where did she even have to go? Her sisters were hours away with their husbands, she didn’t have any friends and there was no where to go. “No no, you can come to my house. Not letting you sleep outside that shithole. Can come to my house, promise I won’t hurt ya’”

At this point she was too tired to fight, too upset to refuse so she simply nodded and let him place her back in her seat and make the drive towards his home.

“Here, drink some water. Do you want to change hon?” Harry had Y/n sit on the couch as they got into his home, handing her a bottle of water before sitting on the coffee table in front of her. “No, I don’t have any clothes. I’ll just keep this on since we have school in a few hours. I’ll just have to wait to get home before I can change.” Y/n wasn’t really understanding the situation at hand, she didn’t see the turmoil around her like Harry did. “No no, we’re taking the day off school and you’re not going back home till I know what the hell is going on there. you can wear some of my clothes. They’ll be big on you but it’s better than our shitty uniform.” He insisted, holding her chin to make her look at him. “Harry those are bad words, shouldn’t say that.” Her reply was soft, reminding him she still was y/n sweet and innocent. But right now, he needed to be the mature and brutally honest person for her because she was clueless.

With some gentle convincing Y/n finally agreed to change. He gave her privacy while she changed into the baggy sweat pants and hoodie that seemed to swallow her since they were so large. Harry thinks she’s never looked smaller, more fragile, or cuter. But right now wasn’t for crushes or cuteness, this was a time to take care of the girl. “Comfortable? Good, here finish the water and eat a few of these crackers. Can sleep in my bed, I’ll take the couch yea?”

She did as she was told, sipping the water till it was gone and munching on the saltines while she sat on his bed laying down when she was finished.

Harry took a blanket and pillow downstairs and started to situate himself on the couch, getting himself comfortable before a soft padding on the steps caught his attention and there was Y/n standing with misty eyes holding one of his blankets in her hand. “What’s wrong love?” “Scared…scared to be alone I’m sorry…c-can you stay with me please? Or i-I can sleep on the floor while you sleep on the couch so I’m not alone?” Harry took a few moments to think her words over, his mind slow from his tiredness but Y/n in her fragile state took this as a dismissal and so she nodded to herself and sniffled, “It’s okay, sorry for asking…sleep well Harry.” Before he could respond she had rushed back up the steps and into his room. She felt embarrassed, small and vulnerable. Her mind screaming, she was ‘stupid’ for even asking him that, she was convinced he only pitied her and that’s why she’s here. She couldn’t fathom the idea of anyone actually wanting her around or caring about how she feels. While in her current mental state with the loud thoughts banging on the inside of her skull, she started putting her things back in her bag, planning to leave so he could sleep without being bothered by her.

“What are you doing?” Harry’s voice seemed 10 times louder as he stood against his doorframe, rubbing his tired eyes while watching Y/n scramble to collect her belongings. Her movements halted instantly, nerves making her feel sick yet again. “W-was just gonna go home. I’m sorry I shouldn’t of come here, you did so much for me I just have to change and I’ll be gone, I’m sorry.” Her speech was frantic, fumbling her words a bit as she tried to rush it out. “What? Is this because of what you asked? Love I’m sleepy took me a minute to form coherent words. Relax put the bag down, lay down I’ll stay with you.”

When she didn’t react he took it upon himself to remove the bag from her shaky bruised hands, gently placing it on his desk and guiding her to lay in his bed moving in next to her before flipping the lights off.

“Harry?” her voice was mouse like, but he still heard it. “yea love?” his hand searched for hers in the dark, “Thank you for helping me…means a lot…i-I’m afraid Harry...” once he grabbed her hand he remembered it was injured, opting to wrap his arm around her shoulders instead. “Scared of what Y/n?” there was a few beats of silence before she timidly answered, “My parents…and God”

Harry took a deep breath before responding, “Well, you don’t need to be scared of God. You’ve done nothing wrong. Your parents are going to be punished by him, not you. And for your parents…can you please tell me what is going on?”

“what do you want to know?”

[imaginingsoftly]

Wedding Date Pt. 2 - Tyler Seguin

Type: strangers-enemies-lovers, series

Requested: no

Warnings: swearing, asshole exes

A/N: Hey guys! I know I said these installments were going to come out on Thursdays, but I feel like my fellow Americans currently losing their shit could use a distraction. Remember that it’s out of our hands at the moment, and you deserve to take a break from the news coverage. Breathe. We’ll get through this. I love you all.

Tyler hadn’t asked any questions about Melissa’s sudden disappearance from the brunch after she woke up grumpy and disoriented before the rehearsal dinner, and she appreciated the hell out of him for it. Instead, he’d brewed her some coffee and talked about his dogs and life in Dallas. Somehow he could tell that she needed some time to not think about anything significant, and he’d given that time to her like it was nothing. 

Attending the rehearsal on his arm was almost fun, and he helped get her back to the suite early. Most of the group probably thought they were breaking off to go hook up, but that was fine as long as Melissa could get into her bed faster. He’d walked her all the way to her bedroom, despite her laughter that she could walk across the living space by herself, and she’d smiled that night as she fell back to sleep. 

Now they were getting ready for their respective roles in the wedding, Tyler as a guest/ wrangler of the middle-aged relatives, Melissa as the Maid-of-Honor. Tyler grinned appreciatively as Melissa handed him a cup of freshly-brewed coffee, and she turned back to the french press to make herself a cup when her phone began to ring. It was probably Kirsten freaking out about something, even though the wedding was a good 8 hours away. “Tyler, could you get that for me?” He could handle his cousin just as well as she would have, and hearing Tyler answer Melissa’s phone might put Kirsten in a good mood. 

“Hello?” Tyler’s voice, gravelly from sleep, sent a shiver up Melissa’s spine. Hearing that first thing in the morning was something she would be interested in getting used to. She snuck a glance over at Tyler to see him already looking at her, smirking like he knew what was going through her head. 

“Who the fuck are you?” The familiar voice, dripping in attitude and disgust, sent another sort of shiver down Melissa’s spine. Her ex, and not the hipster beer guy. 

“What the hell do you want, Liam?” Tyler looked at Melissa confusedly as she spoke, and she shook her head. Later, she tried to tell him with her eyes. He understood, and Melissa took the outstretched phone. “I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and for a second Melissa thought that maybe Liam had hung up. “I can’t believe you’re hooking up with someone else. This won’t look good to my parents, Melissa. It’s time to come home. Stop throwing fits.” Tyler threw a sharp look at her, like he actually believed what Liam was saying, and Melissa had enough. 

“I am not your goddamn girlfriend, Liam, so stop acting like I am.” He tried to interrupt her, like he always did, but she cut him off. “No. I’m not fucking finished. I love my job, I love my friends, and I love my freedom. I’m not interested in being some rich fucker’s trophy wife and I’m definitely not interested in being yours. Leave me the fuck alone before I get a restraining order.” She hung up before he could get another word in, throwing her phone on the counter in anger. “Motherfucker!” 

The timer for the french press went off, and Melissa prepped her coffee with jerky, angry movements. She could sense Tyler staring at her from his seat on the counter, but she ignored him as she continued to mutter curses under her breath. She should have blocked his number a long time ago, but she didn’t trust him not to just get a new one in order to reach out to her. At least this way she had proof of his continued calls and texts in one spot. 

Tyler’s voice broke through Melissa’s cloud of anger, and she actually jumped a little bit at the sound of his voice. “Bad breakup?” Melissa scoffed. He had no idea. “Well,” Tyler said with a bit of a laugh in his voice, “I can tell you one thing.” He waited until she turned to face him, an eyebrow raised, before he continued. “I’d be honored to have you as my trophy wife.” No he did not. Melissa gaped at him, more shocked he had made a joke about the conversation than about the actual comment. 

She didn’t really think, she just reacted. Tyler laughed as Melissa’s coffee spoon came flying in his direction, and he caught the utensil with ease. Her heart felt light, lighter than it usually did after phone calls from Liam, and Melissa found herself smiling back. “Hipster beer guy wasn’t my most recent ex. He was actually a guy from college, so a while ago.” Tyler nodded, and she noticed that he leaned forward like he was interested in the story she was about to tell. “I dated Liam for about 6 months last year. We met at a dinner for the university that I work at, some charity thing where the donors get to come and make sure we know that they pay our salaries.” Tyler cringed, and Melissa was sure he at least kind of understood where she was coming from. 

“Liam didn’t seem like the other donors. He’d gone to the dinner in place of his parents, and we talked for a couple of hours. He seemed sweet.” She didn’t see the red flags that she normally would have, mostly because he looked so friendly. Apparently being raised by rich and heartless parents taught you some pretty impressive false empathy skills. She wasn’t wholly convinced he actually felt empathy at all, actually. “We started dating, and it just felt easy. We were both so busy that we hardly saw each other, and I told myself I liked that. I realized later that I didn’t like the distance from a partner, I just liked the distance from him.”

“One night like a week before we hit the 6 month mark Liam invited me to dinner with his parents. I hadn’t met them yet, because apparently they were super busy running their empire, so I was pretty nervous. Liam is a pretty driven guy, and I had assumed he got it from his parents. The dinner went wrong from the beginning.” Melissa paused as Tyler patted the space on the counter next to him. She hopped up gratefully, and he squeezed the shoulder closest to him. 

“Just wanted you to be comfy. I have a feeling this next part is going to be a doozy.” 

Melissa laughed at Tyler’s choice of phrasing, though she nodded because he was correct. It was a doozy for sure. “You have no idea. So we get there, and I’m immediately othered when everyone shows up in cocktail dresses and suits and I’m over there in my teaching pants and a blazer. His mother looked like she had just sucked on a lemon when I walked into the room, and she glared down at my hand when I introduced myself like I was going to give her some kind of disease.” That wasn’t even half of it. She’d also made some snide comments under her breath about where the clothing had come from, though Tyler didn’t really need to hear that detail. 

“We finally sat down for dinner after some of the most uncomfortable cocktail conversation I’ve ever had, and then I make a giant mistake. I mention my job.” Tyler reacts perfectly, throwing a hand over his heart and fake gasping. Melissa chuckled a bit. “Yeah, exactly. So his mom gets this horrified look on her face, and turns to Liam and says, ‘she will not be working once you’re engaged, correct?’ I tried to respectfully state that I love my job, and I planned on working for the foreseeable future, but she wouldn’t take that for an answer. She kept insisting that I couldn’t work if we were going to be together, and Liam wouldn’t back me up. At one point he turned to me and said, ‘you know, I make more in a day than you do in an entire month. I can take care of you.’”

Tyler’s face looked disgusted for her, and Melissa felt a twinge of satisfaction that at least he was on her side. “I lost my damn mind. I stood up from the table and said that if the expectation was that I would be a brainless trophy wife with no ambition or intelligence then I was uninterested in continuing our relationship, and I stormed out. I’ve been trying to get Liam to realize that no means no ever since.” Melissa downed the rest of her coffee, suddenly in need of at least three more cups. 

She was halfway through making a second cup when Tyler responded again. “Isn’t one of your areas of expertise gender and stuff?” Melissa whipped around, surprised he had remembered. She nodded, and Tyler let out a scoff. “So they were pushing some idea from the 50s on you when your area of study is literally everything against that?” Melissa laughed. At least someone else understood the irony there. 

A knock sounded on the door to the suite before Melissa could respond. Tyler jumped off the counter before she could move to the door, and she admired the view from behind as he walked away from her. “Morning, cousin!” Kirsten flew through the door, sliding across the room and into Melissa’s arms with a laugh. “I’m getting married today!” The pair laughed, and Melissa hugged her friend close as she felt some tears prick her eyes. They’d been through a lot together since their days as college roommates, and today felt almost surreal. 

Kirsten pulled back with a slight frown. “Why do you look like you want to punch something?” Melissa tried to school her face into one of confusion, but her friend knew her too well for that. “Don’t bullshit me. Why the hell do you look so pissed?” 

She didn’t get a chance to make something up. “Liam called her.” Melissa turned to glare at Tyler from where he was sitting on the counter again. “He was an ass, but she handled him really well. It was kinda hot actually.” He winked at Melissa, and she flushed bright red. He had that effect on her, and it was kind of aggravating. 

“He still seems to think we’re still dating. I told him a restraining order was in the cards if he didn’t kindly fuck off.” Kirsten held up a hand for a high five, and Melissa slapped it gratefully. She had stayed in Kirsten’s guest bedroom for almost a month after that breakup because Liam kept showing up at her apartment. He stayed away from the house because John was a hell of a lot bigger than him, and John and Kirsten had been lifesavers as she tried to get over their relationship ending. 

Kirsten looped an arm through Melissa’s and began pulling her out the door, despite the fact that the latter girl was barefoot. Melissa managed to snag a pair of flip flops on their way out, though she couldn’t get them on her feet. “Ty I’m stealing your girl for a bestie breakfast, try not to miss her too much!” Melissa stiffened at her words. Maybe they’d been acting too well. She looked over her shoulder to mouth an apology at Tyler, her face bright red, only to find him smirking in her direction already. They were still staring each other down when the door slammed shut behind her. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Lissy.” 

She couldn’t keep pretending like this. “Kirs, it’s not like that.” If she wasn’t careful, Kirsten would be planning her and Tyler’s wedding by the time the night was over. Kirsten meant well, she really did, but sometimes she really just needed to chill out. “We get along really well. We’ve had a lot of time to talk, and it’s been fun. That’s all.” It was obvious that Kirsten disagreed, but she relented as they reached the patio where the brunch had been held the day prior. 

The tables were no longer set up to make one giant table, like they had been the night before. Instead it was an open area where several groups were eating, none part of the wedding party. Kirsten pulled Melissa over to a table set up for two in one corner of the patio. It was next to the vine and flower-covered wall she’d noticed the day before, and she leaned in slightly to sniff at the flowers brightening the space. 

“So,” Kirsten said with an air of mischief, “you and my cousin.” Melissa opened her mouth to protest again, but her friend cut her off. “Uh-uh. Nope. I saw the looks he was giving you, and you turned bright red every time you two made eye contact.” She was right, and they both knew it. Kirsten looked smug when Melissa didn’t try to disagree. “Listen. You’re moving to Dallas in a month. Why not hook up with him? See if he’s worth keeping around, and then have some fun. You don’t have to do the whole relationship thing babe, and you deserve to have someone appreciate your body.” 

A server came to take their order, and Melissa gratefully ordered another cup of coffee and some pancakes. “I think you’re reading it all wrong, Kirs. He’s just being nice.” The looks that he kept giving her, full of heat and interest, said otherwise, but there was no way he was really interested in her outside of a hookup. Although, would that really be so bad? Kirsten scoffed at her statement, and Melissa jumped in before she could say anything. “I don’t know if I really want to hook up with anyone this weekend, Kirs. If it happens it happens, but I’m not going to push it.” 

Her friend shrugged, though her face said she completely disagreed. “Well if you aren’t going to let me find someone to match you with, at least tell me you found a place in Dallas.” Their food arrived, and Melissa took a happy bite of her pancakes. They smelled heavenly, and tasted even better. “You were going to buy a house, right?”

Melissa nodded. “Originally I had planned on a house, maybe just outside the city, but I fell in love with this townhouse right off of Main Street. It has three bedrooms, so right around the size I wanted, and there’s so much natural light. Plus, there’s a rooftop deck with a beautiful view of the city.” This place was going to be her new investment. She was fortunate enough to have gotten a lot of scholarships and grants to do her schooling with, and professorial pay allowed her to pay off those loans rather quickly. That meant that she could start saving for a down payment on her own place and a new start in Dallas. 

She took another bite of her pancakes while Kirsten contemplated what she was saying. “I’m really happy for you, Lissy. You deserve this.” They grinned at each other, and then Kristen broke down into giggles. “Look at us! You’re a badass in your field that got job offers from like half the universities in the country, and I’m marrying my soulmate. We’re killing this whole life thing.” Melissa chuckled as she nodded at her friend’s words. 

“It wasn’t half of the universities in the country, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.” Kirsten waved a hand in a ‘whatever’ kind of way, and conversation moved to people-watching and bets over who would leave with whom tonight or how long it would take for John to tear up.

[cummingforkylo]

I was wondering, if you could write a Kylo and reader smut where he���s got the readers back like presses against his front while he’s fucking her and maybe chokes her a bit. Cause like. I need they in my life. Maybe even someone like Hux walks in on them? I really just need some rough dominant kylo smut in my life. 🤪😍 your writing is amazing by the way

Okay so I may have wrote something really long, really smutty and like...really terrible. Like...Kylo is not even kind of a good guy in this. So I mixed this request with another one: “hey!!! Love love LOVE your blog!! 😍 alsooo could you write something in which Kylo and reader are not really together but they have really really rough sex and kinda dub con but not really and the reader asks him to stop bc it’s hurting a little too much and kylo realises and starts being super soft™️ and kissing her and saying he’s sorry?” but like...god he does not say sorry and is not soft. So maybe this isn’t anything either of you want, its entirely self indulgent, annndd actually kind of personal? But it is SUPER long so you know:

Following Rating: Explicit/NSFWCW: dubcon/noncon, nasty sex, throat fuckingWord count: 2,234Prompt/summary:rough dominant Kylo, mildly obsessed reader. 

Your mind was always filled with daydreams, plans, fantasies, impossible ones but you couldn’t help but indulge them. You had lived on and off Star Destroyers and other ships your whole life. You mother was a highly regarded engineer, your father, the Captain of a Dreadnaught, they were decorated veterans of the Empire and now decorated in The First Order. You were supposed to follow in their footsteps, be smart, powerful, courageously  wage war agains the Resistance, but you couldn’t find that drive in you. What motivated you was the love of language, of stories, fantasies, and people. You always felt too connected with people to be part of the cold regime of the First Order. You couldn’t detach yourself the way others could, you couldn’t let go of your empathy. Your daydreams and feelings had always been a source of frustration in your parents, you were born into a good family, a good name with the chance to really make a name for yourself, they gave you all the opportunities. The best education. The best introductions. Yet, you still struggle.

You still lived in your father’s quarters on the Supremacy while you finished your schooling, but you had begun to fixate on something, The Supreme Leader. You didn’t see him often, but when you caught glimpses of him around the ship your imagination would run wild. You wondered what he was like, if he was really as hot tempered as everyone said, you wondered at how powerful he was and you tried to understand how someone so outwardly beautiful could be as dark and twisted as everyone said he was. You didn’t believe it so you did something stupid. You took to following him around the ship. You tried to stay back from him and of course, you could never go into rooms you didn’t have clearance to enter, but you lagged behind him as he walked through the halls. You listened to his hushed conversations with Generals and other leaders within the First Order.

You ever started to write about him, just little notes about the way he moved or the tilt of his head as he listened to something he didn’t like. Nothing of significance to anyone but yourself. You kept it all on your datapad, not thinking about if anyone would be able to read it. You were finishing writing something down in the hallway right after he had ducked into a door you couldn’t follow him through when the door unexpectedly opened with a blast of air. You jumped so bad you nearly dropped your datapad and you tried to step towards the wall so Kylo wouldn’t notice you but it was too late, he had stepped into your path, towering over you.

“Are you following me?” He asked, his voice filled with a dark anger.

“N-No!” You said immediately, but your voice was shaking. Kylo’s eyes darted over your face, taking you in.

“Then how come every time I turn around, I see you?” he asked, he took a step towards you, you stepped back but it didn’t do much, he was still directly in front of you. Your heart thudded in your chest hard, you had thought you had been so sneaky, you had thought no one noticed. That was obviously not the case.

“I…” You didn’t know what to say, you had no explanation. His dark brown eyes seemed black with anger and there was a spark of electricity that ran through his expression. His energy crackled with instability. It was everything that had attracted you to him in the first place. You swallowed, searching for something to say. You were at a loss though.

“Nothing to say?” he asked.

“I don’t f-follow you.” You insisted. His mouth twisted into a grimace at the lie and he lifted his hand. There was a moment where you wondered what he was doing but then he was in your mind. You felt as though your skull might crack open from the pressure. It came in waves that staggered you, you stumbled backwards again and your back in the wall. He must have followed you because as you tried to force your eyes open to look at him, he was still right in front of you. Each thought of him was pulled to the forefront of your mind, your attraction, your curiosity, your admiration, your interest, and your writing. The vice grip on your mind released in a whoosh and a gasp. You leaned forward, trying to catch your breath,

“Insolent, girl.” He snarled and his hand closed around your datapad. You lunged for it but your hand froze in the air, it tensed there, completely locked up. Panic swept through you as he looked at the datapad, scrolling through your pages of notes on…him. There were things in there that you would have never admitted to anyone. “You stupid girl, did you think I didn’t notice you lurking around me?” he asked, looking up from the datapad. He dropped it onto the ground, it didn’t smash but the screen went dark.

Kylo released the Force that had been holding you but his hand found your upper arm. His fingers closed in a vice grip reminiscent of what he had done to your mind earlier. He drags you away from the wall, across the hall to the door he had come out of. He placed his other palm against the scanner and the doors whooshed open again. He marched you inside and shoved you so hard that you lost your balance and fell to the ground in front of him.

“If you’re so obsessed with knowing the real me, why don’t I show you?” He asked, his voice had a tiny tremor in it, like he was trying to keep himself under some control.

“No, I didn’t mean-please!” You gasped but he strode up to you and grabbed the back of your head, his other hand worked on his trousers, unbuckling them with a swift precision. You found yourself in a position you had thought about a number of times.You were stiffened by fear much more now than you had been in your fantasies but at the same time, liquid excitement gathered in your belly. It made your nipples go stiff, it made your heart beat a little faster-or maybe that was the fear.

“I thought this is what you wanted, you dirty slut.” His breathing was rough, that strained lilt in his voice echoed in your mind. His hand had worked his pants down by now and the size of his cock panicked you and turned your bones to mush.  “You fantasized about it, little girl. You’ve never been fucked by anyone and yet you thought about getting on your knees and pleasing my cock, haven’t you?” he asked. He didn’t need to ask, he had seen it. He had watched your fantasies in your mind. “It’s almost endearing. Your obsession.” He said. Your face was hot with embarrassment and tears welled up, making your eyes prickle and you lip tremble. You had no words.

“I didn’t-“

“Didn’t what? Want this?” His hand curled into your hair, his fingers scraped your scalp as he gathered a fistful of it. “We both know that isn’t true.” He said through a nasty chuckle. You hated that he was right. “Open your mouth before I lose patience.” He said. His fist in your hair dragged you down towards his cock, your mouth opened almost instinctually and you felt the warmth of the tip of his cock thrust into your mouth. His hips rocked forward and his cock entered your mouth, enveloped in heat and wetness. Your tongue circled his head, while your lips struggled to wrap around how thick his cock was. His hand in your hair tightened, pulling you unquestioningly forward, the tip pressed into the back of your throat. Spit filled your mouth, slipping in streams and rivulets down out of your mouth and down the sides of his cock. You gagged and tried to pull back. His hand at the back of your head an immoveable barrier, keeping you locked on his cock.

You couldn’t breath, your body screamed for release from choking on the intrusion in your throat. Your throat contracted around his cock, tears streamed out of your eyes. Kylo ripped your head back from his cock and you sucked in air finally. You nearly retched. He caught your face in his hand, pinching your cheeks between his thumb and his fingers.

“Do you think I’m as dark as everyone says I am, yet?” his deep voice rolled out of him and that sparking energy around him burned through you.

“Yes,” you managed to garble out through your spit and tears. You regretted every thought you had had about him, everything you wrote wondering if he was really as fearful as everyone said seemed so foolish now.

“I dont think you understand just yet.” He said. He shoved you down by your hair, pushing you onto all fours.

“No, no, no no!” you sobbed, realizing what he was doing you struggled forward but he caught your hips in his big hands, keeping you in place. You said no, but your body was a traitor and it was screaming yes. Kylo’s hands shoved your skirt up. It would only take a flick of his hand and he would see your shame, he would see how excited you had gotten by being used by him. Kylo must have head this in your thoughts because his hand paused in its movements,

“You’re desperate for me, aren’t you, little slut?” he asked. You whined, unable to manage something else. He knew it was true. He could see your mind. There was no use arguing, and he was going to use you even more. You wanted it and didn’t at the same time. Your cunt was throbbing with need but you remembered his size, you remembered how rough he was and ice daggers of fear spiked through you.

“You write all about me, about how you know I would make you feel good and now you can’t even manage a ‘yes sir’ ? Disgusting.” Kylo ripped your underwear down and you moaned in shame, pleasure and fear. Course leather ran over your exposed pussy, dipping into the folds. He knelt behind you, your fear and burning pleasure mounted at the same time. He pressed the head of his cock against you, running it along your slit, it grazed against your clit and you yelped at the sensitive bundle of nerves being touched without warning. Involuntarily your hips shimmed back towards his cock,

“You nasty girl. If your cunt didn’t look so inviting I wouldn’t bother giving you what you want.” He growled. You wanted to sob that it wasn’t what you wanted, that you couldn’t take his cock but you doubted it would matter to him. He shoved himself forward and the breath was kicked out of you in a gasp. He filled your whole pussy, he had buried his  whole cock deep inside of you in one thrust. There was no room left for motion, you were sure of it. Pleasure, pain and a mix of desperation and distress filled your body, you felt weak and unable to move. His cock felt like it would split you in half but you could also feel how lubricated you were.

“Your cunt  is so tight,” he gasped, he started to drag his cock back out, looking down at it. “You didn’t even bleed, little girl. You’re just that desperate.” He growled. Your pussy was burning with the stretch, burning with the pleasure. His cock smacked into you again, you felt garbled, uncontrollable and lost. You felt like you were unfurling underneath him, your fantasies becoming reality was too much and you were losing your mind each time he slammed into you. Each thrust sent your jerking forward. Your face pressed into the floor and he held your hips up as he rocked into you. Your breath came out in gasps or low pained moans,

“Oh…ah…Oh! No! Oh…” each thrust sent fireworks bursting under your skin, not only in a good way, not only in a burning pain. All of the above.  Kylo leaned over your back, pressing his lips to your ear,

“Do you think you understand me now?” He asked. You sobbed in response. His fingers closed into your hair again and he ground your face against the floor. “Do you think I care even a iota about you? Or that you’re sobbing on my floor?” His hips hadn’t slowed, they snapped into you again and again and again.

“No!” you sobbed.

“Good job, whore. You’ve gotten one thing right.” He snarled, his hips smacked into yours over and over. Pleasure washed over you, but it was like an out of body pleasure. You could feel your own orgasm mounting. He must have heard this, “No. You don’t get to cum.” His hips sped again and the pleasure mingled with pain once again. With his hand in your hair, tugging your head back from the floor now he thrust one last time inside before ripping away, leaving your cunt dripping and clenching on air. Hot ropes of cum spilled over your back, ass and up into your hair. Kylo smacked your ass and stood up.

“Get out.” He said.

[previouslynebraskan]

Why humans are assholes

Hi, my pen name is Gwendolyn, and welcome to my TED talk on empathy

*side note, I suck at writing, and my train of thought is derailed frequently.  So buckle up, and I’ll be surprised if you make it with me to the end, as we don’t know organization.

First off, I’ll disclaim something terrible about myself.  I’m a Christian.  Even worse.  I’m a rosary rattler.  A Catholic!  Oh and you thought it couldn’t get worse?  I’m not even a good one.  God and I are only on speaking terms when I need him (which is pretty frequent, but not the point).  Church feels like an obligation most weeks, and just because I know the rules and believe in the rules, doesn’t mean that I follow them.  

Alrighty!  Terrible things out of the way.  Let’s begin.  Humans are assholes.  Most people, especially the population of Tumblr, will agree with me.  Between human atrocities, selfishness, and down right lack of care, humans are just assholes.  I am too.  I am human.  Ask my siblings.  Like any good older sister, I wanted nothing to do with my siblings, and when forced to see them at school, I was unprecedently mean to them.  Ask my husband.  I am ridiculously selfish, and only do things when it suits me.  And yet, there is an entire history of the human race, with worse individuals than myself.  And a lot of people might see that, and think, cool, I feel better about myself, because I’m not Hitler.  I feel better about myself because I wasn’t a member of the KKK.  Well, personally, I don’t.  The next disclaimer I am going to make about myself, I’m a self-diagnosed empath.  I’ve never been to a therapist.  I don’t currently have plans to either, but I’ll let God decide that path later.  The reason I bring this up, and the reason I mentioned my religion at the beginning, is because I truly believe that if not for my first disclaimer, my second might not exist.  

I am a crier.  And I get annoyed at criers.  But I don’t cry at reasonable things.  No.  I cry at other people’s feelings.  Let’s bastardize the golden rule real quick.  For those who are unaware, “Treat others how you want to be treated.”  Now, I’m sure many people recall going through a phase where they could translate that in their still learning brains to “I can treat people however I want because I wouldn’t care if they were that way to me.”  Now back to the golden rule.  The bastardization is, put yourself in someone else’s shoes.  How many of us got told this by their parents at a young age after not playing nicely with another kid?  Apparently, God took it upon Himself to write that verse on my heart.  And it went something like this:  I cried when my mother told me that her grandmother (whom I had only met twice and had no actual recollection of) died.  I was inconsolable when my grandfather died.  So much so that even now, almost fifteen years later, it still stops me in my tracks, my heart hurts so much.  I cried when Michael Jackson died.  I didn’t really even like his music that much.  I’ve cried at almost every movie I’ve ever seen.  My sister’s speech at my wedding included the moment where she had to chaperone me on a date with my then boyfriend, and we went to Frozen.  Now yes, I cried at the scene when her parents die in the shipwreck.  But it gets worse.  Elsa is out there, just ran away, no plans for shelter yet apparently, and she begins to break out into song.  At first I’m fine.  But then I can feel my heart, as she sings, “well now they know.”  I start bawling my eyes out.  And all I can give in response to my sister’s quizzical look of “What the fuck is wrong with you???” (Yes I cursed, I told you, not one of the good ones. Fuck off), was: “She’s just so happy!”  I wouldn’t necessarily say I was sad at that time.  But I could feel the relase that an animated character was expressing on the big screen.  I could feel the weight come off of her shoulders, and I cried.  I mourned for what she went through, but shed tears of joy that she had found peace.  Tonight.  I was watching Facebook videos instead of taking care of my nightly routine of getting ready for bed.  And a Mengele twin told her story of survival.  When she mentioned looking around for her father and older sisters, I felt that.  When she said she could still see her mother’s outstreched arms, I could see that.  When she mentioned the panic of trying to save her sister years after liberation, trying to find records of what was done to them, her rage and anger.  And then her forgiveness.  Do you know how strong someone has to be in order to forgive?  To let go of the pain in your heart, knowing you’ll never get revenge.  You’ll never get an answer.  And you just let it go?  That strength is super human.  This week, as we pass the 20th anniversary of the tragedy of 9/11, my hometown did a wonderful commemoration.  I cried.  My aunt gave me a look of disgust because I was crying, again.  I cried not only for those who lost their lives, but for their families who would never be whole, for the heroes who stepped up, then and now.  I am a proud Navy wife.  My husband is out sacrificing his time, so that I don’t have to.  And so that I can worship my stupid religion that I cling to, so I can walk around saying inappropriate words and wear not enough clothing.  But he made that choice.  There are a lot who didn’t.  Earlier this week, someone posted the transcription of the phone call of flight 93.  The moment that he said that the passengers wanted to sacrifice their lives, for the sake of our country, I hurt.  And then he asked the person on the other end of the line to pray.  Another video this week, an ex soldier, who fought early on in Afghanistan was telling a story about one of his soldiers.  They were getting ready for a raid that would likely kill them.  His soldier asks, I know we signed up to fight, but why are we doing this?  The man’s response was, for the people up in that tower who didn’t.  He goes on to explain the story of a young mother. Two kids.  Went to work like any other day, and her last attempt at human decency was to hold her skirt down as she jumped out of the burning tower, so the people below couldn’t see up her skirt.  

Crpl. Page was a Marine from my state who just passed away.  He was two years younger than me.  I never knew him.  But I grieve for his family and friends.  

See the worst part about being an empath in a world where human’s are assholes, is there’s never a shortage of people’s feelings to feel.  I’ve been told that you can experience an emotion so strongly that your body’s only reaction to the volume of what it feels is to cry.  And that resonates with me.  I feel joy to such an extreme when I’m with my family, celebrating time together.  I feel the sorrow of people missing loved ones, and their hearts breaking.  And there are times when I wonder if it’s a gift? Or if it’s a curse.  It’s a gift to be able to go to someone and say, I can feel for you and your situation.  I don’t feel sorry for you.  I feel your pain as though it were my own. But it’s a curse to feel the attrocities of humanity and just sit and wonder why it had to happen.  Why it had to come to this.   I got told I was crying for attention.  I wasn’t, but that didn’t matter. Supposedly, behavioral psychology could “fix me” if I wanted it.  I could be trained to control my emotions, and process them in a way that wasn’t so consuming.  It would definetly help my self diagnosed depression.  But let’s posit that God made me this way for a reason.  He gave me this gift with a purpose in mind.  What then?  The problem is, I don’t know how to effectively use it without letting it ruin my life.  I can never be a therapist, because I would be able to take on the feelings of my clients.  And while I do very much believe in tough love, I also belive that if you just have the right push in the right direction, great changes can be made.  Would the Holocaust have happened if Hitler had  better relationship with his mother? (this is a personal piece, I am reflecting on history classes I haven’t taken since high school.  I’m not fact checking this. Don’t at me.)  Would Columine have taken place if those kids had been in a better place mentally?  

You know what the awful thing is...? Look at all of these events.  Look at all of these heart wrenching dates in history.  And then look what came out of them.  Out of 9/11 came one of the most unified fronts America has had in a long time.  Out of World War II came men of valor.  A chemical reaction occurs when you take an object, and force it to experience a high degree of change.  And that is what gives us assholes grit.  Our experiences make us tougher, and make us better.  And maybe less of a crybaby in my case.  Or more of a cyborg who doesn’t experience emotion for fear of being consumed by them. 

Ramble is over.  For those of you who persisted and tried to keep up, good job and I’m sorry.  For those who didn’t, don’t worry, I wouldn’t blame you.  

Some effort is better than none at all, and if all you are capable of is existing today, then I hope you do, and I know you will do it beautifully.

[self-loving-vampire]

@melancholygirlfrien said:

I have a Child Development Associate so I am literally professionally certified to tell you that yes, taking children and babies to places so they can learn how to function and see that they're a part of a world bigger than they are, is important to their social, emotional, and language development. It helps everything from motor skills to social skills and cognition Just because you find babies' cries annoying doesn't mean parents are selfish just for wanting to take their children outside. Children shouldn't be raised indoors all day in a fucking bubble because that's how developmental issue happen. If a child is isolated they can develop serious issues.

Note that there are more appropriate places you could be taking them to, for starters. Places where people can avoid the noise more easily and where it might be less disruptive.

Like, you have options beyond “indoors 100% of the time” and the kinds of locations I mentioned in my first reply to you. Like, you can still take them to places like parks, malls, and other locations where it would be less of an issue.

No it's not fucking self centered for a parent to take their baby outside because they're just doing what they gotta do , not everyone can afford child care especially people of lower socioeconomic status. There are many single mothers who have no other option but to take their baby everywhere because that's what their situation calls for. The only fucking person being self-centered and not considering the struggles of other people is you.

Again, notice the kinds of places I mentioned in my post before going off on straw arguments. My complaints about others involve places like restaurants, the movies, and airplanes.

These are not only places where a child crying can ruin other people’s experience and be inescapable, they’re also places where many of the people there are not poor and had other options for what to do about their situation.

Like, I would think differently about someone who brought their baby to a clinic’s waiting room (for example) as opposed to a flight to Miami.

Black and white thinking is not going to help you understand what other people’s issues are.

No I wouldn't tell someone whos scared of my snake to go suck it, even though I would have every right to. Like I said I understand when people have phobias of certain animals. There might be people out there who have a phobia of dogs but does that mean people who take out their dogs are being selfish and don't care about people who have trauma/phobia associated with dogs?? Fuck no, those people are just being responsible dog owners and doing what every dog owner should which is take their dog out for a walk. Just bc some people might be annoyed by their dog doesn't mean they're being self-centered and bad people.

And yet there are places where they probably should not take their dog because it would be either inconsiderate or outright banned, and if they insisted on doing so then they probably are self-centered.

Like, if you want to take your babies out for a walk or something around the house that’s not nearly as bad as what I was actually complaining about.

your life isn't gonna be fucking ruined from hearing a baby cry in public. The most you'll be is annoyed and anxious for a few moments and then it will go away. Suck it up.

Did I ever say anyone’s life was going to be ruined? Why do you make everything some kind of exaggerated strawman?

Here are some exact quotes you already forgot about:

“It’s not the worst thing but it’s still kind of inconsiderate“

“No one said anything about stopping them or suspending their rights in any way, only that noise is annoying (and especially painful to autistic people with sensory issues).“

“Um… what do you think I do? Activate Karen Mode and go bother the parents about it? Nah, I just judge them silently. I am free to complain as much as I want on the internet though.“

So:

1- I am not treating it as a huge, life-ruining thing, just a sort of dick move. Like people who cut in line or something.

2- I do “suck it up” when it happens but am 100% allowed to complain about it online anyway.

Tbh I can't keep talking to you, I think people like you should be ushered into a dark warehouse and humanely put down.

Empathy-havers are so humane they advocate genocide against autistic people apparently, over a post about baby noises being kind of annoying. I’m not even surprised because you all keep doing this every single time without even thinking about how it sounds.

Maybe you should think about how the things that make children annoying (they're egotistical, they have a hard time empathizing with  others because of their self-centered world view) are traits that you have yourself. The difference is that most children develop and grow out of that self-centered world view

If you actually read my post, the primary annoyance I pointed out was that they were Portable Sensory Hell. I made no comment about their ability to feel empathy and actually find low empathy people significantly less annoying than others so that’s clearly not it.

You're a child in my eyes tbh. Your mentality is childish. Say what you will but I would like to remind you again, at one point in your life, you were a baby, and you shit your pants, and someone had to clean up all that shit after. Or else you wouldn't be here.

You know, if you’re going to go around advocating genocide over a post about people not liking baby noises then I am 100% sure my literal child self was morally and intellectually superior to your current self already.

You know what would make me respect you more? If you owned up to the fact that you judging parents when their babies cry is a result of your low empathy and self-centered world view. I would respect you SO much more if you just said "Yo, straight up. I'm just a selfish person. I know babies can't help that they cry and it's not the parents fault but I straight up do not like that shit. I have low empathy as a person and therefore I can't really bring myself to care about babies, children, or the parents and their situation so I just judge parents because I want to. Because their kid is annoying the shit out of me. I don't care about the reasoning tbh I'm just kind of an asshole."

> Implying I care about whether or not you respect me.

Also, this isn’t even correct. At my current point in life I pretty much never have to interact with babies in any way, if I was completely selfish then it would not matter to me now whether or not people bring their crying babies into airplanes and the like. The issue just isn’t a very significant part of my life.

But the thing is that while I am low empathy that does not change the fact that I value other people’s well-being and know that crying babies make their lives worse even if just in a small, temporary way.

The kinds of parents I am complaining about don’t even think about that.

You know you're just incompassionate. So be a self-respecting sociopath and own up to that shit, please, I would respect a stone cold evill mf  SO much better than a little weasel who tries to give excuses as to their own egocentric way of thinking.

I am a narcissist, not a sociopath. Of course, if cluster B disorders are just standard insults to you then you might think all low empathy conditions are the same.

Furthermore, you haven’t shown that you understand anything at all about what low empathy conditions are actually like.

Also I find it really telling that you would prefer unrepentant evil selfishness over someone who merely understands and sides with others who are negative about loud babies. Like, actual morality is not something you seem to be valuing here.

"iF I wErE iN tHaT sItUaTiOn I wOuLd jUsT sTaY hOme!" No you wouldn't you stupid bitch because parents have to go out to buy groceries, and run errands like every other adult.

Again, you seem to be treating all of “outside the house” as an interchangeable space with the exact same norms.

Like, do you realize how it might be different to bring your child out for necessary grocery shopping than to bring them to a restaurant or the movies? Do you really think I would treat those things as exactly the same?

MOST parents, especially working-class, poor, or single parents, DON'T have that option, as I already stated. And you are showing a clear lack of regard for people who are in a tougher situation than you for judging parents when their babies annoy YOU. You are literally not putting yourself in their shoes at all bc you have no idea of even half the shit parents have to do in order to make ends meet and look after their babies.

Oh, I am well aware of how having babies will multiply your suffering, especially if you’re poor. It’s precisely why I’m never having any! 

I understand it’s a huge pain and people with children are always going on and on about how their lives became significantly more miserable as a result of it.

I think you should honestly love that screaming toddler on the plane because in a few decades she might grow up to become the nurse who will take care of you when you're old and ill.

This argument just doesn’t work one way or another. If the baby is going to help me then I will be grateful once that actually happens, not based on a hypothetical so unlikely I might as well live my life not considering it.

[bird-in-a-cage]

@hotdadlicense, part two of your ask!

#45 “Lets get wasted and then go piss on his grave.”

Release

Hawkins had exactly two bars; the bar out east and the bar our west. The bar out east was called Dixies’, it was definitely the rowdier of the two, notoriously known for not carding so it was wildly popular with college kids returning home for the holidays desperate to escape the crushing boredom of family life, and old enough looking high school kids. The cops tended to leave it alone, maybe raiding once or twice a year but always with a few hours notice. As far as law enforcement was concerned if these kids were in a building drinking they weren’t doing it on the street, so less work for them and the community. For the greater good and all that crap. 

The bar out west was called The Tavern. It was a little more old school. The wall behind the bar was lined with whiskey and bourbon bottles rather than tequila and different flavoured sambucas. It had an older clientele. Steve liked working there, whenever he came back from college for the holidays and wanted to pick up a few shifts here and there to help save money to move to Chicago permanently. He didn’t like drinking there though, the air was too smokey and there wasn’t a good looking person in sight, but in many ways they helped. Dixies’ was for fun. The Tavern was for work. Regulars seemed to like him too, only if they could ask about his father and what the old man was up to now, trying to rub elbows for a potential business deal or to get an invite to the Christmas party up at the cabin. Steve was more than used to it, played along just enough to bump his tips.

They didn’t need to know he hadn’t spoken to either of his parents in a good six months, and that his father was busy cosying up to some woman younger than Steve in Milan or that his mother was getting trashed daily in the Bahamas, making eyes at pool boys. Frankly Steve didn’t need to know that either, why they didn’t just divorce years back he never understood. But then, he never really understood his parents on any level.

So, whenever he would come back to the holidays it was purely to make money. He had an empty house to live in and didn’t have to pay a dime for apart from to put food in the fridge. He would rather stay in Chicago though. He liked his life up there. It was so different from being stuck in small town America where nothing exciting happened. The most exciting thing that had happened since he’d been away from January was a new stop sign getting erected by the elementary school. Chicago was alive. He had friends there. Friends he could sometimes make out with. Friends who actually wanted to be around him by choice and not by circumstance, something which he’d learned the difference pretty quickly after leaving the first time.

There wasn’t really anyone around from the old days. Nancy had moved to DC to pursue political journalism. Jonathan had found his way to Seattle, a place which by all handed down stories suited him perfectly. Even Tommy and Carol had gone. The rumor was they’d had a bit of a shotgun wedding after a pregnancy scare and skipped town to New Mexico to go stay with Tommy’s grandma.

Steve couldn’t imagine how fun that was.

He was tending the bar alone. Thursday night, so not exactly a hive of activity. His regulars had come and gone. Mr Jones was propping up the end of the bar, barely awake, not from drink just because he was old now and he just fell asleep sometimes. Things in Hawkins never changed. The entrance was pushed open, and in staggered a face Steve hadn’t seen in years, one he was certain had skipped town by now.

Billy fucking Hargrove.

The last time they’d seen each other was before Steve had left for college. They’d maybe fooled around once or twice that summer but it wasn’t anything serious. Turns out they were only beating the crap out of each other in high school because of some weird sexual tension that would spill over and become beat downs in the parking lot. Outside of the hallways, away from prying eyes, with a chance to actually use their words, they kind of got on. Even if Billy was still kind of a pushy asshole.

Billy didn’t look great though, decidedly drunk as he made his way over to the bar, dressed completely in black. Pants, shoes, belt, his old leather jacket and a plain shirt which he was making quick work of undoing a couple of the top buttons of. His hair was cut short, but not too short, and he’d gotten another piercing in the same ear as his signature hoop. But aside from that, he looked just the same. It was a real blast from the past.

“Whiskey please,” he muttered, rummaging around in his pocket for his wallet. He hadn’t noticed who was behind the bar yet.

“You know, legally, I’m not allowed to serve you if you’re already drunk,” Steve said with a smile, trying to be as kind as possible. He didn’t know what Billy was like now. He could still have that wicked hair trigger for all Steve knew. And he really didn’t want to have to deal with glass getting thrown around. It was a nightmare to clean up. Billy’s head popped up from his lap at the sound of Steve’s voice. His blue eyes were glassy. Like marbles. Just as loose too. He grinned and let on the bar. He was definitely using it for support.

“Stevie!” He slurred around his tongue. Yup, wasted. “What are you doin’ here? Nevermind, whiskey please ol’ friend. For me and everyone here! ‘Cause why the fuck not huh?” Billy slapped a dollar bill on the bar and fought with his jacket to rip it off. There was a light dusting of a boot mark on the side of his shirt, just above his hip. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

“You got kicked out of Dixies’, didn’t you?”

“Mayybee,” Billy giggled, before staring right at Steve, waiting for his drink. “And the liquor store closed already so you’re my only hope ol’ friend, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal of mine!”

Steve sighed and checked the time on his watch, there was still an hour before he could close up. There was no way he was going to ply Billy with more alcohol, so he gave him a glass of water instead, which received a very annoyed look in return. “Drink that first then maybe.”

Billy muttered something dark under his breath but wasn’t so far gone he was going to start a fight. He grabbed the glass roughly and took a sip. His ring hit off the rim and echoed dull. “What you doin’ here anyway? Thought you’d escaped this shithole.”

Before Steve left they’d spoken about escaping this town. Billy was more desperate for it than Steve was. He had dreams of going back to California, staying near the coast, surfing everyday, maybe going to study mechanical engineering, something practical he could do with his hands. By the looks of it they were still just dreams. The story he’d heard from Dustin one time was, before the conversation was quickly changed, was his whole home life had gone to even more shit than it already was. Billy’s stepmom got sick so couldn’t work, his dad jumped back on the wagon with abandon so didn’t work, leaving Billy to make sure Max got through high school and all the bills were paid at the end of every month single handed.

“He’s still a dick, but he’s not that much of a dick anymore. Anyway, how’s the pizza there? Is it awesome?!”

“I come back sometimes,” Steve answered. Billy’s body rolled like a chuckle but no noise came out. “What’s with the look? You ditch the metal and go goth?”

“It was my dad’s funeral today.”

Well, if that didn’t just suck the fun out of everything.

“Shit. Shit man, I’m sorry. I was just having a joke-”

“No no it's okay,” Billy interrupted, smiling again like he hadn’t just dropped a complete bombshell into the middle of their stilted conversation. “I’m not commiseratin’. I’m celebratin’! The old cunt’s heart finally popped. Surprised they fuckin’ found one instead of a black hole…”

Billy drank his water back in one like it was hard liquor. It didn’t look like he was celebrating. Steve refilled the glass quietly.

“How is...everyone?” Steve asked. Because that’s what you did when things like this come up. Least that’s what he had done with funerals in the past. Extending empathy.

Billy shrugged. “Everyone’s fine. Happy to be rid of him.” He ran this thumb around the edge of the glass. It didn’t make a noise. “When’d you getoff?”

Steve felt himself get a little hot under the collar. A long time had passed since that summer, but the memories of it sometimes still remained. Echoes of it all would sometimes dance over his skin if someone he was hooking up with touched him certain ways, or kissed certain spots. As much as they’d hated each other in high school, it had made for some pretty fun make up sex. But no, Billy was far too gone for any of that. And Steve wasn’t about to start being that guy, hanging around his childhood home and hooking up with old flames because there was nothing better to do other than watch the corn grow. “About an hour. Why?”

Billy felt around in his pockets for what felt like an age before tossing his keys behind the bar into the corner. They landed with a metallic clatter against the floor. “I shouldn’t drive. Can you take me somewhere?”

“Bill-”

“Please?” For a moment Billy actually looked vulnerable. Steve had never seen that before. It didn’t suit him. Not in the slightest. “I’m a fuckin’ orphan now man just, please? Then I’ll leave you alone. And you can escape again. Just one place.”   

There was that too. Steve had learnt through Dustin, who’d learnt through Will, who’d gotten it off Jane, who’d gotten it from Max herself, that Billy’s mom died when he was a kid. Apparently it was rough, but he never talked about it. Just wore it around his neck like a constant weight, let it wear him down and let the sadness feed the anger. Two snakes chasing each other’s tails. And Max wasn’t around back then to have seen it. It was all second hand stories heard through her stepfather. God only knew how much of a reliable narrator he was. 

Steve really didn’t want to be a babysitter again, he’d left those days in the past even if Dustin still sent him a mother’s day card for a joke. He really didn’t want to have to babysit a drunk, emotionally unstable adult. But he couldn’t exactly leave Billy to his own devices. Not when he was like this. God only knew what he was capable of anymore.

“One place?” He reiterated, just to make sure. Billy’s glassy eyes lit up as much as they could.

“Just one. That’s all. I promise.”

“Fine,” Steve said, going for sounding annoyed by it all, but he probably just came off as normal. Taking care of other people. That’s what he did best. Even at college he was Dorm Mom, leaving out glasses of water and snacks and advil. It was something that was never going to leave him. Maybe he just had to accept that. Billy smiled, probably about as close to warm as he could manage and leant down to scoop his jacket off the floor.

“I’ll get you outside. Yous still drive that shitty beamer right?”

He was staggering away before Steve even had time to answer. His quiet night plans of just going to sleep were in tatters.

-

Billy was sitting on the ground when Steve finished and had locked up for the night, clearly not giving a damn about the dry dirt he was getting over his pants, or all up the side of Steve’s car where he was leaning, swigging from a small half empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Steve couldn’t even pretend to not be annoyed. It was late, he’d been on his feet for six hours, and he wanted to go home and eat something. Not be taken on a drunken adventure.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, walking over to his car to open it up and get them both inside. He wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. Billy scrambled to his feet without help but just creating a little cloud of dust.

“I had it’in my pocket the whoooole time. Don’t tell the barman. He might get mad at me.”

“Might huh?” God this was going to be a long night. It was already a long night. Steve got into the driver’s side, Billy sprawled himself into the passenger seat, somehow worse than before. He just had to keep reminding himself that Billy had a rough day. The roughest of rough days whether he would ever admit it or not. “So, where am I driving you too?”

“The church.” Billy took another swig and Steve wanted to just bat that bottle out of his hands already, but he didn’t want the car he used barely three months out of the year to stink of bourbon the next time he got in it and be reminded of all this.

“The church? There’s four churches in this town, you’re gonna have to help me out more on that one.”

Two bars. Four churches. Welcome to the midwest.

“The one with the tree...” Billy slowly spread his arms out to imitate branches, tilting his head to make the shape in his mind.

Steve wound his hand tight around the steering wheel, still trying to give the benefit of the doubt but this was already driving him crazy. “Yeah, no, still gonna have to work a little harder helping me out here man. I’m not a mind reader.”

BIlly sighed dramatic and loud, ripping a flyer from an inner jacket pocket and thrusting it under Steve’s nose for him to take. Neil Hargrove’s funeral flyer. Oh. Oh god they were going to do this? There was no way Steve wanted to sit in his car and listen to Billy cry or whatever while staring at a fresh grave. He signed on for a ride home, maybe once through the drive thru to sober the guy up, not get strapped into the emotional rollercoaster that was maybe about to start.

But they were both here. And Billy had just finished the bottle and tossed it out the door to smash to pieces in a far off part of the parking lot hidden by darkness. Steve couldn’t kick him out now. Nothing about who he was as a person would let him. He still sighed annoyed about the whole thing though, and started the engine, driving off to the edge of town where this church was. Billy was relatively quiet on the drive, staring out the window at passing street lights, warm yellow dots reflecting in his eyes. Steve wanted to make conversation, maybe ask how it had been, what he’d been up to, what his plans were now Max was getting close to graduating, but it didn’t seem right to do so. How do you really flow into a conversation about how you’ve been stuck in a place you despise for longer than you ever wanted to be, and you’re now an orphan to boot. Even though Steve never saw his parents, a fact he was more than used to since he turned thirteen, he still couldn’t imagine them dying. Just being left alone forever. They called a few times a year. They were horrible people but they were still his parents. It was something Steve didn’t want to think about too hard. 

Billy still had enough common courtesy left to roll the window down a crack before lighting up a cigarette though. So there was that at least.

The church was quiet and dark. As it should be past midnight. Steve parked up out front and followed Billy’s staggering steps as he suddenly knew exactly where he was going and went with drunken determination. At least Steve hoped that he knew where he was going. He stayed a couple paces behind, had brought a flashlight just in case Billy stumbled or anything and needed to be picked up out of the headstones before someone called the police on them trespassing. Steve didn’t need that on his record, and he dreaded to think how long Billy’s must be by now.

Even in the dark Neil Hargrove’s stone looked brand new. It was light grey granite. Didn’t have a lot of words etched into it. Just his name, the dates of his life, and the words ‘son, father, husband’. Steve flashed his light over it, watched Billy stand to attention and lean over the fresh dirt, a leg keeping him stable on either side of it, body close to the stone. He laughed darkly and spat venom at the letters.

“You fuckin’ deserve this. Fuckin’ cunt.”

For what felt like slow, painful hours there were only the sounds of Billy’s heavy laboured breaths, little metallic echoes of a belt and zipper being undone, then the ungodly splash of piss, quickly evolving into an endless stream that just kept coming and coming. Steve was frozen to the spot he picked a few feet back. He wanted to at least not illuminate the for sure crime he was witness to now, but no part of him could move. Just in shock. Steve had joked about stuff like this sure, but do actually do it? Billy laughed as it just kept coming, cackling and howling in delight to no one but himself.

Like he’d been waiting his whole life to unload like this.

Eventually the stream came to an end, he audibly tucked himself away and spat again, before either the drink or the emotion of the day finally got too much, and he collapsed flat on his back in the grass. Probably where he’d stood earlier in the daylight to check his father was really dead. That seemed like a Billy thing to do. Steve waited a few beats before stepping closer, making sure not to shine the light directly into his glassy marbles and more aim it towards his heaving chest.

“Feel better?” was all he could come up with to say. What’s even normal to say after watching someone piss on their own father’s grave, no matter how much you hate them? Billy grinned wide, his lips reaching to his ears almost, and laughed. He sounded free.

“I’ve been waitin’ to do that alllll day!”

“You don’t say,” Steve couldn’t help but smile, and bent over to help Billy up from his sprawled state. He was quite the lump to move but was soon on his feet with his arm slung over Steve’s shoulder and moving without needing pulled. Steve held onto his waist to keep him upright and in a straight line. He smelt horrific.

“Can we get pizza? Really want pizza.” Billy slurred as his head found its way onto Steve’s shoulder easily, like all the fight and hate and decades of built up resentment and anger had literally just been pissed away. 

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah man. We can get pizza.”

[horrible-monstrosity]

mothermom 3 is a baaad animine

part 1: fuck these characters I thought the bit about not being able to go through a certain way because there's ants (that the player can't see) you wouldn't want to trample was going to introduce a theme of kindness and gentleness, but the game sure... tramples that early on by having your oh-so-kindhearted-and-mournable mother trample the fuck out of a sentient talking mole cricket to death right the fuck afterwards. Like, you were just talking to and playfighting with that mole mere seconds ago, and now it's thoughtlessly and meaninglessly dead, and it's supposed to be funny. And then you're supposed to forget all about it when mom dead because care and have emotions for this characters you've barely known for like one minute worth of interactions dragged out over like an hour. ok Then after bumbling along being a hollow little bag of nothing for like ten hours Lucas suddenly proves himself a detestable little cunt by just straight up stealing something he's told was a precious item, a yo-yo belonging to Porky's friend. Because, like... fuck Porky, I guess, in this geame franchise about love and heart and healing there's just this one fat kid we're all supposed to just disregard and piss and shit on and detest by default for no fucking reason just because the game narrative said so. Porky's existence was pretty weird already in Earthbound- he's apparently being abused by his fat parents, and aside from being a bit snotty and show-offy, he does at least make sure his little brother gets home safely at the beginning. He just seems like someone who needs a friend, which... actually makes Ness look like an asshole in retrospect for not just giving him some kind of help. It was kind of fine in that game because he was just a minor character, but making him some supervillain in the next game just because he was some dumpy abused kid is just... what the fuck. But anyway, whenever the plot expects us to care about Loocus and his dumb dead mom I just think about things like the yo-yo and the mole cricket and I lose all empathy. These people are assholes. You're trying to make sympathetic victims out of assholes and an asshole out of a sympathetic victim. Get your meaningless fucking sunflowers the fuck off my screen you bitch fuck

And then on the other hand there's Duster. The character who's absolutely the most deserving of empathy out of all these cunts and we're supposed to see him reembracing his shitty old life as something he should be really happy about. Like for one thing, the entire plot where he reenters the cast is stupid and makes no sense. When we hear he's at the club playing with the band, I could think of a lot of reasons for it- he could be laying low to protect the egg (seeing as how Tamzilly got pozzed and going back there would accomplish nothing), he could have just decided to fuck off and do something he actually enjoyed rather than go back to his shitty asshole dad, he could have somehow ended up far far away from the town and joined the band to make his way back home travelling with them/earn a living so he could get back. But no, before we even get to see him and see how he's acting Strong Female McDerpa Character tells us that he most definitely has amnesia. Because, like, why would he ever give up on his jackass dad and that braindead town otherwise? And then we meet him and it's exactly what we were unceremonously told it was, how rivetting. Then for some reason he decides that if he's really who you say he is he needs to... give up his life as a band member entirely to get the egg back. Can't just come with you to get the egg or until the adventure's over, nooo he needs to abandon his new life forever and ever and just go get fucked and fuck himself. fuck. let my man play guitar and also that "thiefs but good somehow because derp" shit is retarded and I hate it

Finally there's Girl Character who I refuse to even remember the name of because she's... nothing. Even her being kinda cunty about how she's sTrOnG and nOt lIkE ThoSe OthEr gIrlS is just bland. The other girls from the past two games were cute and girly and still credit to team with their strong psychic powers, why the fuck is she like this?

part 2: i've stopped giving a fuck about making this into parts fuck you What the fuck is the story of this game? You spend hours dicking around with a fucking timeskip and a ghost mansion or some shit and the game randomly namedrops the needles at some point, and then... the six or seventh chapter is just titled GUYS THE NEEDLES ARE ACTUALLY REALLY IMPORTANT YOU GUYS. Six or seven fucking chapters in, and we've barely gotten to anything resembling a coherent plot. What the fuck have we been doing up until this point again? Why the fuck do we even need the dragon needles plot anyway? Just have the main cast move from one pigmeng plot to another with things like the thunder tower, slowly working their way up the chain of command until they reach the final boss and his ultimate plan. You don't need to introduce an entire plot worth of fucking shit a third of the way into the game you fucking fuckers

The themes are a fucking dumpsterfire. Just plop some fucktarded work bad money bad bullshit in there and call it a day... Evil monkey man could have given that fucktard anything and got him to hide it in the well and it would have caused a ruckus when he came back and stole it. He could have convinced him to hide his grandma's ashes in the well- would the takeaway from that have been that honoring the dead bad? That's how fucking flat it is. If anything it just comes off as if the people of Tamzilly are just a bunch of mindkilled retards with no defence against humanity's own nature aside from shutting themselves off from the outside world entirely- the slightest contact with normal human interactions like money or having to contribute to society for a living, they all self-destruct. It's not le capitalism that made the old people home bad, it's whoever the fuck actually built it... which, if the outside world weren't basically strawmanned with the le evil pigmans and monkey abuser guy, would have been Tamzilly themselves. Which, because the strawmanning is so unbelievably absurd, makes it seem like Tazmilly is just a retarded place that somehow managed to make the old people's home this bad on their own or some shit I don't know I just can't buy it

Speaking of empathy, the game somehow manages to make the Pig Heil guys endearing even while they're actively working on the thunder tower that's cooking the dumbass town residents. Are they supposed to be abusing the electric catfish when they're cutely telling the things to hang in there and do their best? When Lucas got a jerb hustling the golems around and they managed to make it like a positive thing (the pigmangs encourage you, seemingly pay a decent wage, and even the doggo enjoys running on the treadmill once he gets into it), I thought there was going to be a tweest or at least some nuance, but the absurdity of the nice ol' piglins in the evil tower just makes it seem like it's just entirely unintentional, by writers who just have no idea what the fuck they're doing. The generic braindead modern-bad messaging and the generic brainless funny-characters-ha-ha sides of the writing clash horribly and somehow manage to mangle each other even worse than they already were.

The whimsicality is fucking dead. It's just all so forced and one-note... or, very consistently two-note in every single thing, because absolutely every single monster you meet is just two things funny stuck together. The first two games could glide smoothly between fighting enraged possessed zoo animals and weirdo people, weirdo fucking blended monsters that don't look like anything in particular, and then just sometimes the taxis that're used for decoration on roads will veer off course and engage you in battle. It's simultaneously wildly unpredictable and smoothly cohesive. And it's wonderful. But M3 is just... it leans over, shoves a megaphone down your throat and loudly informs you that "the PIGMEN have FUSED the THINGS toGETHER" and proceeds to beat you over the head with "this thing is THAT thing and THAT thing" over and over again. It's forced, mechanical, hamfisted and just not whimsical at all. And it's not just because the pigmengs aren't Giiigigigigiyasass (which could have been fixed by having them harness traces of Gig's power if that was the problem anyway), because it extends to absolutely everything- the ghosts at the mansion for example are just all absolutely fucking nothing. Like the main big bad boss is just "he's GHOST who THROWS FURNITURE and is BEETHOVEN and plays BEETHOVEN MUSIC". Because Beethoven is old thing therefore old mansion and ghosts, geddit? How fucking pathetic. Oh there's another thing, the weird aliens/conspiracy bent the first two games had is gone entirely. That's something that really helped it feel so wild yet at the same time cohesive... Actually, the game also seems to have done away with the surprise overworld sprite encounters like the aforementioned taxis. ... No wait that's right, they blew their load in the first levels with the rock lizards, which were fucking boring.

The dialogue fucking sucks. just fucking drags the fuck on endlessly for fucking ever to say barely anything, and barely anything you need to actually hear. Did Earthbound ever stop you to inform you that the TAXIS are AFFECTED by GIGUDUGDSAS like you couldn't figure that out yourself? No, they say Gigi's affected shit in a couple sentences near the beginning and let the rest of it speak for itself, pretty much. It's hard to give exact examples because I can't fucking remember any of this shit because it just slides right off my brain like ducks off of water, it's so bland and pointless. The sparrows drone on endlessly with worthless tutorial shit and then take an entire extra sentence to chirp at you and remind you that it's talking animals oh wow wacky!!!!!!! And when Duster decides he really is what you say he is he stands there going "ME IS DUSTER" over and over again like he's fucking Bimpson. You don't have anything interesting to say about finally figuring out who you really are? Okay... There's multiple fucking scenes of slow-scrolling walls of fucking text telling you absolutely nothng you don't already know except that the writers are wanking the fuck off over their own dumbass writing where in Earthbound there was like one scene of this towards the end that really just set up the emotions of the final sequences and underlined how far you'd come and shit and was a good moment of reflection and shit.

I also find it exceptionally intersting that all the people in Tazmilly before the timeskip have names and unique appearances, but anyone who only shows up after is just some generic design called "Man" or "Woman" or what have you. It feels weirdly dehumanizing towards outsiders.

This game fucking feels like the writers just fucking dumped a bunch of absolute shit down like they expected everyone to just eat it up, either because of the success of the previous games or because of the emotional manipulation the plot is laced with. The characters are all either detestable cunts or desperately need to be airlifted out into a better game pronto. And it's unsettlingly... modern in what's wrong with it. The capitalism-bad-tradition-good-mindkill-yourself messaging, the spunky female character(tm) who rubs it in your face how strongk she is (and who keeps talking even when you're controlling her while the other characters all become silent protagonists)... even the weirdly random spite towards characters the narrative has decided aren't "deserving" enough, or characters only being allowed to handle said spite and retain sympathy by cucking to it completely (Duster)... I suppose that's just a sign that these sorts of writing problems and hangups are older than that and have just become more popular/visible in recent times, but it's still really fucking weird to see.

I feel like I should be concerned that the team behind the Earthbound series also started Gamefreak and created Pokemon, though since the split obviously happened before Mo 3 I don't know how much overlap there is between staff members there specifically... seeing as how these exact same sort of writing problems have started to rear their heads in the Pokemon franchise, starting weakly in gen 6 (cough zinnia cough abandoned ship plotline cough) and absolutely fucking exploding in 7 (cough LILLIE COUHG FUCKING TAPUS COUGH AGAG V HIC CUFGH VOMIT AAGHK); I haven't yet fully witnessed gen 8 but everything I've seen of it so far looks no better, except there's no shill character (Marnie is just kinda... there), just suffering. But that's all for another post.

welp time to go watch the remainder of the game until my brain rots off