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star-girl69 · 5 months

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Your Girl

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: late at night, you and clarisse get to know one another.

a/n: ykw i dont even know what i write anymore just enjoy it i truly just listen to the wind oh my god

Your Girl - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: im sorry im obsessed w the nightmare trope, friends to lovers MEYOW, HURT COMFORT, clarisse just wants to KISS, light tension, very light and fluffy tho…. not a lot of angst tbh, POSSESSIVE CLARISSE I SCREAMED, mutual pining YESSSSS, they’re in love but they don’t think the other could be in love w them, clarisse knows what she wants and sets out to get it, monsters- again it’s a drakon bc i’m evil, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of weapons, weed and smoking, substance abuse idk if it’s addiction my health teacher would be so disappointed, shotgunning weed, idk what’s happening honestly we’re all along for the ride, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You don’t know where Clarisse gets it from, but she has good weed.

They’re these perfectly little rolled blunts, with some sort of amazing concoction inside- you can’t even be bothered to care that it’s bad for you. Not when it makes you feel so good, not when it makes everything else fade away.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Sitting in the woods, leaning against a rock covered in moss, staring up at the stars. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you’re just here next to each other. But tonight, you think you took one too many hits, so you’re feeling a little sentimental.

“I would fucking die without you, Clarisse.”

She snorts. “Yeah, probably.”

“No, no, not just like- because you’re so strong, and stuff, but because of this fucking weed. I can’t sleep without it, y’know.”

She hums.

“And, like, you need sleep to live, or else your brain will like eat itself, or something ridiculous. Did you know that?”

She looks at you, mouth curved into an unimpressed smile, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t, and I care so much. Thanks for telling me, leech.”

“That’s mean,” you huff.

“Then stop leeching off of me and stealing my weed.”

Clarisse always looks so pretty in the moonlight. You would never admit that to anyone, but in the dark when your head is all hazy- you know she’s pretty. She’s beautiful, if you’re being honest, but she’s also your dealer- you can’t risk upsetting her. But still, sometimes you’re not sure how she isn’t a daughter of Aphrodite.

But you know better than anyone else that she gets everything from Ares, like she’s a carbon copy of him.

She gets her precision, her strength, her tactical mind, her rolling storm of emotions from him.

Except, there’s a softness in her. Only here, in the moonlight. You don’t know if it’s you or the weed, but you like to think it’s you. You like to think that Clarisse likes you as much as you like her, not just tolerates you for your mediocre company.

She’s sitting with one foot planted onto the ground, hair pulled back all messy, her arm balancing on her knee. The joint is held out conveniently towards you, lazily in between her fingers, so you flip yourself onto your stomach and reach out with open lips.

She smiles and flips the joint around, placing it onto your lips. Your close your eyes and your mouth, breathing in deeply. Gods, does it taste horrible, but you love it too much.

You pull back and breathe out the smoke.

“You love me, and my weed-stealing tendencies.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” she rolls her eyes.

—-

Clarisse probably trains more than any other demigod at camp. Thirty minutes after dinner, like clockwork, you can find her heading to the field where all the sparring dummies live.

Clarisse is probably your only true friend at camp. You stick to yourself for the most part, hang out with your siblings, but besides for that it’s Clarisse. And she’s the same way. She hangs out with her siblings, and then you. Of course- everyone at Camp knows her name and her ruthless reputation.

You’re unknown, she’s known. She’s the best fighter you’ve ever seen, you’re mediocre, compared to her. She helps you at every turn, you’re the one getting helped by her. She’s mean to everyone, and you’re kind to whoever happens upon you.

You force each other to bring out the other sides of yourself no one gets to see. Clarisse gets to be soft, you get to be loud and annoying. You’re friends, but you both get something out of it.

She’s your friend, your dealer, your savior.

If the first day you came to camp, running through the woods with a drakon hot on your heels and your mouth split open into a scream- maybe Clarisse and her siblings wouldn’t have turned around and noticed the drakon.

Of course, Clarisse was the one who actually killed it, and she was the one who hoisted you up from where you had collapsed, breathing heavily. She was the one who actually made sure you weren’t hurt while your satyr protector panicked about having to face the Cloven Council.

She was the one who found you in the middle of the night, that drakon hissing in your ear, she was the one who gave you the claw she had pried from it’s dead body, she was the one who told you it was dead and nothing could hurt you in Camp.

“Clarisse!” you call, running towards her. Most campers like to wind down after dinner, so the field is empty.

“Leech,” she says when you reach her, leaning her spear against a dummy and stretching her arms above her head.

You always come everyday. You ask her the same question.

“Do you have it?”

She digs under her armor, pulling out the small cloth containing the blunt. “You would probably go insane if I didn’t.”

You feel calmer just looking at it. You smile sheepishly up at her.

“You know I can’t sleep without it, Clarisse.”

She looks away, stuffing it back under her armor, against her stomach.

“Maybe you should try and skip one night.”

You scoff. “I don’t feel like pulling an all-nighter, Clarisse.”

She nods, but her face is riddled with concern. “Okay, angel,” she mutters, so low you can barely hear it. But you do. You hear her call you angel, and you turn away instead of slamming your lips into hers.

—-

After that first night, you slept with that claw tight into your hand. And it was fine. You still had the occasional nightmare, but every demigod had those. But the older you got, the more monsters you learned about, the more comfortable you got with being a demigod- the more the nightmares came. Knowing the drakon was dead didn’t help, and the nightmares got worse and worse until Clarisse found you again one night.

You had drifted apart from her. She had her life and you had hers, but ever since you’ve been bonded by the nights.

She wrapped her arms around you and let you cry, mumbling about how she was the strongest demigod at camp, and there was the barrier, and nothing would ever get through to you.

She was soft in that moment. And you could tell she regretted it, because she ignored you for the next few days until one of her siblings pushed you to the ground. She appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his shirt, yelling that if he ever touched you again, she’d fucking kill him.

While he sputtered and asked why she cared about some stupid weak girl, she helped you up and said: “She’s my girl.”

And since that day 3 months ago, you’ve always been her girl. Neither of you really knew what that meant, except you liked being around each other and you liked this transaction. Clarisse liked owning something. You liked belonging to someone.

That’s what this entire friendship is about- convenience.

So, that’s why Clarisse being concerned about you makes you feel weird. You care about Clarisse, she cares about you- but only enough that she doesn’t want to see you hurt by someone else. But who is she to stop you when you’re the one hurting yourself?

You arrive at the rock in the forest, fingers twisting together. Clarisse is already there, lighter and blunt set out on the ground, polishing her spear.

“Hey,” she says, looking down.

“Hi.”

You sit down, eager to get your hands on the weed and forget about the way Clarisse’s concern confuses you.

You stare at your shaking hand.

Gods, are you really that nervous?

Clarisse’s eyes are sharp, she notices everything, she processes it much faster than you can ever dream to. It’s why she’s so quick in battle. She’s a well oiled machine and you’re the one job she’s assigned to do- she knows you by heart after all these nights.

Her spear is pushed off her lap. “Why are you shaking?” she says, voice low and raspy, her hand cupping yours.

“Low blood sugar,” you lie. “I’ll grab a snack before I go to bed.”

She says nothing, but you watch her hesitate as she grabs the blunt and the lighter from the ground, you watch her hesitate again as she goes to light it. But she lights it, she sticks it in between her fingers and holds it out to you.

“C’mere,” she mutters, and you lean forward and let her place the blunt on your parted lips. You breathe in, only for a few seconds, and you could go for a lot longer.

“I wasn’t done,” you huff as she takes her own drag.

“My weed,” she shrugs. “I decide how much you get.”

“You’re a bitch.”

She laughs. She laughs and it makes your stomach twist in such a good way you can’t feel like this anymore, you can’t remember what she does to you, what she called you.

You reach out blindly for the blunt, biting your lip as you practically climb on top of her.

“Clarisse!” you yell, but she seems to find your desperation hilarious, holding the blunt out as far as she can. “I fucking hate you, oh my Gods.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” she says, pushing you off of her. You realize you’re laying on your stomach in between her legs, one hand planted to the ground around her leg, the other reaching out.

She leans back and takes another drag. You roll your eyes and move to attack her, but she’s too fast, sitting up and holding your hand down, her other hand grabbing your chin. She breathes out the smoke right into your lips that are parted in shock, smiling as you stare right into her amused eyes.

She leans back while you sit there stupidly on top of her, blowing out the smoke. “That- that’s- I hate you, did I mention that?”

“You did,” she muses. “But we both know you’re lying.”

You look at her, at her wide smile, at the look in her eyes. You want nothing more than to be her girl- her girl in the way that she’ll kiss your head, tell you about all the things you’ll never do, she’ll lay down with you in a bed of soft pillows. Her girl in the way the reason she’s soft in the moonlight isn’t the weed, it’s because of you. Her girl in the way you can run to her, the way you do now, but with the added connotation of love.

You grab the joint, and she lets you, watching intently as you breathe in and blow out the smoke. She has no right to be worried over you. Not when you’re the one making the choice to waste away your youth. And especially when you’re not her girl- not in the way you want to be.

—-

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” she hums.

You sit back against the rock. Normally, you would have been here 20 minutes ago.

You didn’t catch her after dinner, and you stayed firmly in your bed until it all got to be too much. You’re terrified of sleeping, of the nightmares that will come- but for some reason, the weed just puts you at such ease that you don’t have any nightmares.

You didn’t want to be near Clarisse tonight. Not after yesterday, not after the way she’s been making you feel, and the fact that you know she could never really like you. Why would she? You are the stupid weak girl who gets pushed over. You run from drakon’s and can’t even sleep because of nightmares.

Clarisse is fiercely protective of those she loves, but you’re too much work.

You wanted to go one night. One night without the weed, and prove to her and yourself that you don’t need it. You’re not that weak.

But you couldn’t.

You sit down, she looks at your tense shoulders and doesn’t tease you, just hands you the blunt. You mumble something of a thank you, looking up at the stars, shoulders relaxing after a few more breaths.

“I, uh, I tried to skip. Tonight, I mean. I tried not to come.” It’s embarrassing to admit this. You’re so scared of the nightmares that even if it’s a placebo effect, you come back to this clearing every night.

“But you couldn’t?” she asks.

“I couldn’t,” you affirm, staring at the ground.

“Well, you can’t just go cold turkey, dummy. You have to wean yourself off of it. Do you not remember, like, any of those nicotine patch ads?” she laughs. “You’ve got a good memory, you remember.”

“Shut up, meanie,” you mumble, raising the joint to your lips. She stops you.

“Ah-ah. Starts now. Make it a good one, ‘cause that’s your last, baby.”

“Fine,” you mumble, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You breathe in for a long time, tempted to go a little longer, but Clarisse reaches over and pinches your cheek. “Okay!” you yell, throwing the joint back to her.

She laughs and raises it to her own lips, taking in another long drag before putting it out.

You look at her, silent question in the air. She shrugs.

“Been meaning to slow down for a while, why not do it together?”

“Yeah,” you hum, looking back towards the stars. “Oh, hey, Ares is out tonight.” She looks over.

“Yeah,” she muses. “Fuckin’ Ares.”

“It’s still beautiful,” you say, stars in your eyes. “You have to think about it the way mortals do. They don’t know the Gods put them up there- they think it’s just some random spotting of stars, they think they made patterns out of it. Isn’t that beautiful? To make patterns and people out of stars? To look for humanity where there is none?”

“I never thought about it like that,” Clarisse says.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” you ask. You can feel her eyes on you.

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Beautiful.”

—-

The next two weeks goes by the same. You don’t catch Clarisse after dinner, but you come every night, you smoke a little less, she teases you and gets closer to you. She gets bolder and bolder and you get shyer and shyer.

You still feel like too much. If she just lets you prove this to her and to yourself, the maybe you can lean against the rock with her and flirt back.

—-

You meet Clarisse by the rock. She’s still standing, waiting for you. She takes the last of the blunt you’ve been using for the last few days and lights it, taking one small drag before she flips it around and holds it out to you.

“C’mon,” she guides. “Not too much, I’ll stop you.”

You feel kind of like a baby as Clarisse puts the joint on her lips, fingertips against your face to steady her hand. You breathe in for just a second, tempted for more, but she takes it away. You look up at her, fingers twisted together.

“Clarisse, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

She leaves the blunt to blow out in the wind in the natural dip of the rock, your own little ashtray at the top. Of course, Clarisse will come and collect it the next morning- you don’t want to upset the nymphs and satyrs in the forest.

“It’s a good idea,” she affirms. “Don’t worry, okay?”

You’re scared. You remember being chased by the drakon even now, you remember it’s snarls, you remember it’s claws moving through the air. You remember your heart pumping in your ears, you remember the stones in your stomach that were supposed to be fear.

You feel like Kronos, but what you swallowed wouldn’t just sit idly inside of you- no, your fear would rip through your stomach and your skin and burst out of you in an explosion of blood, like some sick joke of a firework.

She grabs your wrists. Clarisse is soft, here, in the moonlight.

“Hey, it’s okay. I-I was thinking, I didn’t know if you were gonna be okay, but why don’t you sleep in my cabin?”

You shift on your feet. “Clar, no, I can’t ask you to do that. What if we get caught? And I-I- it’s embarrassing, what if your siblings see? What if they tell everyone?”

Clarisse rolls her eyes and tugs you closer from where you had subconsciously started to drift away.

“They already think we’re dating, anyways. Besides, Y/N, no one cares. Most of my siblings have secrets anyways,” she smiles.

“Wh- we’re dating? They think- why?”

Her face is deadpan. “‘Cause you’re my girl.”

You pull back. “Clarisse.”

“What?” she says, slightly incredulous. “You are. You’re about the only person I can tolerate at this camp. I hope you know that. I know I can be horrible, but really, I… care about you a lot.”

You look in her eyes. There’s no lies, no insincerity.

“I know, Clarisse. And I… I appreciate it so much. You’re, like, my only friend,” you smile.

She smiles back but it’s tight. “Friend, yeah.”

You put your arms around her neck and hug her. It’s the first time you’ve ever really hugged her, and her arms wrap tight around your waist. Her mouth presses against your hair. You let yourself be her girl in this moment.

Clarisse is your best friend. She cares about you. Of course she helps you with this. She’s your best friend. Of course you let her.

—-

You do follow Clarisse back to the Ares cabin, back to her bed- and she points to one of her siblings you can’t see in the dark, but there are two figures in the bed. She smiles and you stifle a laugh.

You know better than anyone else that big bad Ares kids are like a marshmallow on the inside. They act all tough, and they are pretty tough, but there’s a soft spot inside of them only unlocked by one person with the right key.

You notice her sibling has their arm around the other person. You wonder if Clarisse will wrap her arm around you like that too.

Clarisse climbs into her bed, opening the covers for you. The beds at Camp are twin sized, but you can fit two people on them if you’re close together. You don’t hesitate, not anymore, not when you have one chance to pretend you’re really hers.

You lay on your side, facing her, hands tucked up by your chest. Her eyes meet yours, she brushes her curls out of her face.

“Good?” she asks. You nod, breathing out.

“‘M fine,” you say.

She rubs your arm, cold from the dark night. “Just relax, okay? Just close your eyes, Y/N.”

You do, you close your eyes, but you’re so fucking terrified you can’t.

“Clarisse,” you breathe, a plead. For what, you don’t know. You want a million things from her in this moment. It’s not fair of you to ask her, you know this, but it doesn’t stop you from asking.

Your breath comes fast, your nails dig into your palms, but you keep your eyes screwed shut like sleep will just magically hit you like a train.

“It’s okay,” Clarisse says, firm. “Why are you so scared?” she whispers.

“They’re so real,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“They’re not.”

She wraps her arms around you so tight you feel like she’s crushing you. But it keeps you in the moment. If you focus on the way her skin feels against yours, on the way her thumb brushes your shoulder blade, her fingertips scratching the back of your scalp.

If you focus, if you imagine all the thing you and her will never do, if you imagine being her girl, then you can fall asleep.

You dream of her lips pressing against your head, her voice in your ear, calling you her angel.

—-

You wake up, Clarisse still wrapped around you, and slowly detangle yourself. Drool pools at the corner of her lips, and you have to bite back a giggle as you slip out of the blankets and into the warm riding sun.

She looks just as pretty in the sunlight as she does in the moonlight. You feel like a lover slipping out of a bed of secrets. But you’re not. You’re just a friend slipping out of a bed of rumors.

She looks so peaceful, you can’t help but wonder if she always sleeps like this- or if having you next to her had the same effect on her sleep as it did to yours.

—-

There’s a loud knock at your cabin door.

There’s only you and a few of your siblings in here, putting the final touches on their outfits for the day, grabbing the last items they need. One of your younger siblings open the door, and you look around the pillars- maybe it’s a counselor doing some sort of inspection? You take a glance around your bunk- but it’s all clean.

Your eyes meet hers.

“Out,” she says, roughly. She looks at you so intently you almost wonder if she’s talking to you. But when you siblings stand there in shock, she looks away. “Well? I said get out, dummies.”

They exchange looks with you, but eventually shuffle out, not wanting to risk Clarisse and her wrath.

She shuts the door behind your last sibling.

“Being tough has it perks, huh?” she smiles, leaning against the door. Your shirt isn’t even pulled on properly, one of your bra straps is already falling down your shoulder from the act of putting your shirt on, and you’re staring at her with your mouth wide open.

She looks you up and down.

“C-Clarisse, what-?”

She walks over to you, frown etched onto her face.

“I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Oh,” you say. “I… I thought you would have wanted me gone-”

“Don’t care. If you’re going to sleep with me then you need to wake me up and tell me you’re leaving.”

She rolls her eyes at your confusion. She sits on your bed and then gestures animatedly for you to sit down.

“Did you not sleep well?” she fusses. “What’s up with you this morning?”

“I slept great, Clarisse, it’s just- why are you here?”

“To tell you that you can’t leave,” she deadpans. “I mean, you spend all night shaking in my arms, terrified, and then I wake up and you’re not there? I almost killed someone. You’re lucky I decided to check here first, Y/N.”

She laughs. She laughs like it’s so funny.

“Why?” you ask.

“‘Cause you’re my girl,” she shrugs. “And-”

“Clarisse, what does that mean?”

You know what you want. And you’re not dumb, but you’re the only friend Clarisse really has- what did you have to compare it to? You’ve been thinking about it in your head, rolling it around like a diamond- each side reflects something you want from her. Her love, her protection, her touch, her time, her.

She plays with her fingers. “It means… I like touching you. I like protecting you. I like being near you. I like your voice and your face.”

She stares at you blankly, like she’s recounting a grocery list, waiting for an affirmative “yes, I heard you.” But all you can do is stare in shock, trying to make your brain catch up with your heart- Clarisse likes your face. Clarisse feels the same way you do. You can be her girl, and you’re not too much for her, you’re not just friends.

“Oh, fuck it,” she mumbles. She places her hand on your face and pecks your lips. “That’s what it means, okay? I’m, like, embarrassingly in love with you, if you haven’t noticed.”

Clarisse is so blunt and forward it makes your head spin.

She stares into your eyes, searching them for something other than shock and confusion.

“Okay,” she says. Shuffling back. You can tell she’s hurt and embarrassed, but her face reveals nothing other than faux confidence and indifference. “I’ll go, I guess-”

“Bitch,” you mumble, slamming your lips onto hers.

It feels so overwhelmingly right and fills you with such a calmness that weed could never compare to. If you were dependent on the joints, then one taste and you’re addicted to Clarisse. She kisses you back with just as much ferocity, throwing your arms around her neck, trying to swallow you whole with her mouth as she grabs your neck with one hand, your face with the other.

It’s months of tension and wanting, lips touching through the passing of a joint, all of it coming down to this moment that feels so bad, so sinful- surely the Gods must frown upon loving someone this much. You would never pray to any of them again if it meant Clarisse would keep kissing you like this.

When she finally pulls back, you’re both smiling wide, leaning into her palm, hands playing with the curls at the base of her neck. You feel like a giddy school girl. You feel like a lover discovering something wildly new and unknown, promising to keep it secret, sealing it with a kiss of pure fire.

“That was such a mean way to confess to someone,” you say. “Just bitchy. Brass and blunt- harsh, even.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, pressing her face against yours.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I know you’re a big softie who drools in her sleep.” She pulls away and glares at you.

“I don’t fucking drool, Y/N. You’re seeing things.”

You fake frown, bringing her closer to you. “Such a horrible thing to say to your girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend?” she breathes, swollen lips parting like she’s aching to kiss you again.

“Your girlfriend,” you affirm, staring straight into her eyes.

You sunk more into becoming a demigod and all it got you was nightmares and a fear of sleeping. But the more you sunk into being her girl, the more you sunk into loving her and being loved.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from. Certainly not from her father. She didn’t learn to kiss your head from him. She didn’t learn how to hold you, how to call you hers, how to whisper in your ear from Ares.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from, but it’s good.

—-

SHOUTOUT TO clarisse “cause you’re my girl” la rue LOVE YOUR POSSESSIVE ASS!!!!!!!!

—-

clarisse when y/n smokes weed: oh so pretty……

clarisse when y/n can only fall asleep bc of her arms or her weed: my girl fr……..

clarisse when y/n: oh my wonderful perfect angel

—-

y/n: BITCH

clarisse: YOURE SO HOT FUCK

—-

where did clarisse get her weed from you may ask? me that’s where she got it from i ripped through the fabric of reality to give it to her to make this happen actually and you’re welcome

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

@sincerely-silk

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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in-daddy-price-we-trust · 1 year

Text

All I Wanted - Part 3

summary: when you are kidnapped discovered by TF141 they can't help but fall in love.

pairing: 141 x fem!teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: mentions of child abuse, drugs, canon typical violence, kidnapping

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: so uh.. not dead.. I kinda forgot about thos between school and life so apologies for not posting.. for two months.. anyways, enjoy the chapter <3

You POV

Soap continued to ramble on about this and that, with Gaz occasionally butting in when necessary, as the pair showcased the base to you and how they weren't staying much longer. Something about how they had better chances finding this Nombre person in Mexico, where they were originally.

Gaz brought up the other members when they entered the shooting range, just past the training room. Apparently the barracks were deeper into the facility, (how much you believe that you aren't entirely sure). He pointed to two figures standing next to eachother, conversing with adoration in their eyes, "That's Alejandro-" you followed his finger to the taller of the two, "-And that's Rudy, they're a package deal if you get what I mean," To ensure his comment came across perfectly, Gaz shot you a wink.

With a clap on the back, Soap pushed you towards the two lovebirds. It was Alejandro who noticed you first, "Ah, here she is! Hola, niña, estas muy pequeño!" Rudy looked at the man fiercely before elbowing him in the ribs, "Qué? I was just pointing out the obvious mi vida!" A long sigh left Rudy at Alejandro's incompetence.

"So sorry about him, Ale can be, stupid occasionally," Rudy's smile was warm and inviting. Alejandro scowled at Rudy before giving a sympathetic grin towards you, a nod of the head as an apology.

"Do you want to show us how well you can shoot?" Soap gestured to the gun poking out of the duffle bag, a cheeky look in his eyes.

You moved too quickly for them to register, the eye piercing pink with hello kitty, kirby and cat stickers moulded into the metal of the rifle. A sparkly purple keychain dangling from it, blue stars twinkling alongside. The hold was confident, strong and firm, an aim to please familiar to the hardened soldiers.

Gaz gave a soft chuckle at the obvious excitement, pointing in the direction of the shooting range. Lines of plywood separating lanes with hip level metallic benches. Long pathways with human shaped targets, most paper but a few were made of a harder substance such as cardboard. Some of these were hidden behind more bits of scrap wood.

Practically skipping over and setting up the perfect first shot. And that's what it was; well maybe to some it could have been better but instantly the gun continued to fire again at a different target, and then another and another. Bullet casings falling past your face at each reload.

To be honest, you could have gone the whole day, it was when a hand on your shoulder pulled you away from the rhythmic sound of metal hitting the cold concrete. The action made you jerk, a startled yelp following as you whipped your head to the side, staring up at Skully. A very audible gulp was heard throughout the now silent room.

For a while nothing happened. A staring contest happening between the two of you before he spoke up, "..Sorry.." his voice was rough and deep, the words so softly spoken you were sure you misheard the behemoth of a man. "Good shot kiddo, but think about breathing. You're gonna make yourself pass out if you hold ya' breath for that long, hmm?" His eyes were an endless void of darkness, the coffee and gold colours swirling into a beautiful helix of patterns. The words soaked into your brain as you came to the conclusion.

"Yes Sir!" The smile plastered on your face was one of pure adoration, the twinkle in your eyes matching that on the glitter sparkling on the rifle, still clasped in your almost too small hands.

The shooting lasted a while. Each man giving tips and tricks to you, letting you improve on your gunmanship. Eventually, the sun slowly lowered in the sky, and the canteen opened for dinner. A selection of grimy looking slop, greens, beans and a lukewarm soup.

They gave recommendations of what to have and what to avoid (mostly the slop). The soup was better than you thought. Leek and potato. Though, there weren't any potatoes in it, just soft clumps of leek with other veggies thrown in to pad it out.

Tables weren't assigned in the mess hall, but it seemed each group had claimed a table. You bit your lip, standing in the middle, tray in hand. A whistle caught your attention, Gaz calling you over to their table.

You set the tray down next to Ghost before Price walked in, marching over to table 141. He gave you a warm smile as he saw you eating. "Glad to see ya eating, dolly," in return, you gleamed up at him, a spoonful of soup making its way down your throat.

At least half an hour passed, the group chattering and giggling at the stories and jokes that were passed around, before a yawn interrupted the fun. It was Soap who noticed - "Aye lass, ya tir'd?" a meek nod a was All it took before he started to rise, being stopped by the Captain.

"I've got her Johnny. Cmon dolly, I'll show ya you're room," A hum was all that followed.

The walk was comfortable, going back through the winding halls and plain walls. Price stopped abruptly at one of the doors, Knockin on the solid wood. "Here ya are. I put ya next to me, hope you don't mind, you get a bigger room- and~" He drew out the ending as he opened the door, "-an ensuite bathroom!"

You giggled at the man, going in and exploring the room a bit. "Does that mean I have to listen to your snoring, sir?" It was said cheekily, the smirk evident on your face and the chuckle on his lips.

"Aye, so better invest in some ear plugs!"

Giggles erupted from you, turning to face him. Braces were on show with how wide your grin was. "Thank you.." was all that was said. And a nod was all that was needed, Price turned leaving the room with a click of the door.

You faceplanted onto the bed, soft duvet covers wrapping around you like a burrito as sleep quickly overcame you. Soft snores left you as the moon rises high into the sky.

taglist: @urfavsunkissedleo @greenkiki @daryldixonh0e @elijahssuit @theunknownartistsworld @rafaelacallinybbay @cycy-nicole @romanticizedillness @thedeluded @blueoorchid @guiltyconfessions @r3dc4ndy @unnoticed-human @crazyfandomist @jaymum @chb-7 @chromslover @connierk690 @lilpothoscuttings @darkfaethedestroyer @cptg00s3 @elvyshiarieko @8-29pm @howlerwolfmax @minkyungseokie @tapioca-marzipan @cinnamoroll-things @kittythebloodykiller @thicc-plum @phoenixmistycal @marytvirgin @eddiesbitch83 @dwkfan @kdkj122920 @deakyspuff @dressycobra7 @swaggbella @sarraa-26 @autrefleur @revengze @elvyshiarieko @dweebsthings @maeplayscello

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #141 x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod #call of duty fanfic #x reader

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ourflagmeansgayrights · 2 months

Text

back when i was on twitter for a month for the renewal campaign stuff i saw a take that was like “why are we still acting like ed was getting better in 1.10 before izzy intervened when 2.02 showed us what it means when ed is suddenly cleaning things up and acting cheerful.” and i guess the interpretation here is that izzy recognized ed’s actions as signs of an impending suicidal attempt and the “namby pamby/edward better watch his fucking step” stuff was izzy’s poorly executed but well-meaning attempt to stop ed from going down that path. the last sentence is too much for me to even engage with tho so i’m just gonna leave that there for y’all to boggle at with me

but anyway back to the take that obviously ed’s about to kill himself in 1.10 bc cheering up and tidying his space are things ed does when he’s planning to die

cannot believe this needs to be said but there's a pretty big difference between crying in a blanket fort and eating marmalade straight from the jar for like, a fucking day, and then hanging out with friends and making plans to all do something fun together which puts you in better spirits and motivates you to start cleaning up ur room and getting ur life back together after a brief detour into heartbreak

versus fucking. months of isolating from everyone but your one long-time employee who is mean to you and who reminds you of your dad (who you killed when u were a kid btw) and constant substance abuse and throwing yourself entirely into overworking at your job that you hate and not giving yourself any breaks or days off, all of this eventually culminating in you shooting the employee who reminds you of your dad in front of all your other employees and then leaving the rest of your employees to finish him off. and then waking up the next morning suddenly in an inexplicable and unexpected good mood and deciding to clean up your room like youre getting your affairs in order.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #edward teach #ed teach #edward teach born on a beach #s1e10 #s2e02 #txt #meta #mine #og #suicide tw

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totallynotcensorship · 2 months

Text

tags update: US politics is 5th on trending. with supreme court, scotus, and kosa trending under it. also "kids online safety act" is trending

edit: non of them are front page anymore... still trending tho

reason? kosa has been introduced in the house of representatives, a closer step towards becoming constitutional

Tl;dr on kosa(go read eff or watch sog for more details)

the "kids online safety act" is a bill in the US senate by senators richard bulmenthal and marsha blackburn originally introduced in feb 2022 with the goal of "protecting kids from dangerous or harmful content online", enabling local state attorney generals the power to enforce it. except the "duty to care" which is handled by the federal trade commission as of feb 2024

the bill is, at core, an act of censorship forced through even more invasive spyware. the vague language used in the bill enables wide scale censorship up to the wimps of state attorney generals and the FTC. subjects that are potentially under rest of censorship include suicide, eating disorders, self harm, substance abuse, bullying, violence, sexuality, sex ed, mental health, ect.

censorship of such subjects doesn't solve those issues

they only limit accessibility to useful resources for people suffering from mental illness, experiencing suicidal thoughts, addicts, people looking for info on sex-ed(that their school should have provided), transgender people struggling with gender diaspora, lgbt people, people belonging to minority groups trying to look up or spread awareness of their history and prosecution, online activists and educators trying to do their job(you know.. the kind of thing we are trying to do here concerning an on going ethnic cleansing). the "it is for the kids" excuse is bullshit

this is bad even to non americans?

sense most of the big social media sites we uses, like tumblr for example, are US based they will be affected by the bill. and if this bill is based it could work as an example for other countries to introduce similar bills. if you want to help go to stopkosa or badinternetbills. and send a complaint through them

DON'T STOP TALKING ABOUT INJUSTICE

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mountainficss · 3 months

Note

HI HOPE U IGNORE MY LAST ASK BC I FORGOT TO PUT ANONYMOUS IM SO SORRY😭😭😭 but is it still okay if you write a short fic about it tho?

-🌻

!! mentions of: hard dom!chan, spit kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation

LOL don’t worry babe!! i got you it’s all good <3 this anon wanted a harddom!chan that spits in your mouth, so of course that is what we will discuss 😏

i have a hard time visualizing chan as a dom so bear with me here 😳

he’d have you face down, your hands pinned behind your back while he fucks you roughly from behind. he’d find your muffled moans adorable, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the way your moans are so loud even when you’re shoving your face in the blankets of his bed. you’d be fisting the fabric beneath you so harshly you were almost positive you were going to rip it. “feel good?” he’d mock, alternating between gripping your hips and groping the plump flesh of your ass. “feels so good, channie,” you’d answer eagerly, finding the strength to lift your head up from the blankets. “feels s-so fucking good. love your cock so much!” he’d scoff meanly at your desperate whines, landing a smack on your ass and rubbing over the abused skin. “such a dirty mouth,” he’d growl, watching you nod quickly in agreement below him. he’d fuck you faster, the sudden pick up in pace causing you to let out a loud yelp. he’d grab your waist and pull you up towards him, pressing your body flush against his chest as he rocks into you. you’d feel his hand grasp your neck, slightly tilting your head back so you could see him. “open,” he’d command, his hand providing a slight pressure on your neck and making you dizzy. you’d open your mouth, lolling your tongue out as you gaze up at him. he’d gather his saliva, letting the substance fall lewdly into your mouth and straight onto your tongue. you’d swallow before he could even order you to, giving him the most fucked-out expression as you open your mouth once again to show him that you swallowed. after seeing that something in him would snap, and he’d be unable to control the urge to absolutely ruin you. your lewd sounds would only spur him on, and he’d let out defeated groans as he feels you clench around him. “you’re so fucking dirty,” he’d gasp, snaking a hand around to palm at your chest and tug at your hardened nipples. “can’t believe i turned you into such a filthy slut.” and you’d just whine and whimper and take it all like chan’s dirty baby <3

taglist: @imprettyweird , @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @c-hanniehae , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes

#thoughts #seventeen smut #seventeen #smut #svt smut #lee chan #dino smut #svt dino #mountainficss

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mothmanssweetsucculentass · 2 months

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Lmao what’s this? I’m back with more Creepypasta headcanons, this time for Eyeless Jack.

TW for the following: graphic descriptions of cannibalism/murder/gore, depictions of drug abuse, lacing food with sharp objects, body horror, and generally anything you’d expect from horror.

THERE ARE NO CENSORS BEYOND THIS POINT, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY DISTRESS CAUSED BY MY WRITING.

Eyeless Jack Headcanons

He/they

Obviously no longer human

Still has a humanoid-ish body

“Died” around 2011, physically 22

Dark gray skin with a faint blue-ish tint

His blood is black. Like it’s basically oil or tar now. Moves much slower and is thicker than normal blood. He hasn’t checked but he’s pretty sure all his organs share the same color and viscosity now. Like that one breed of chicken with black organs y’know?

Long ears

Lots of sharp teeth. Practically a shark mouth

3+ long black tongues depending on his mood and how well fed they are

Because of the multiple mouth appendages he has a soft lisp and often accidentally bites his tongues since they move involuntarily

Eyes are constantly leaking the black sludge. Clothing/face/belongings are always sticky

Constantly salivating the same substance, just thinner/more liquidy

Wears a surgical mask under his regular mask to combat it

Very good sense of smell

Seriously he could smell a specific blood type in the middle of a massacre of a shit ton of bodies

Can’t swim

Reddish-brown wavy hair, forgets to cut it sometimes so he sometimes has a fluffy mullet

Claws that can’t retract

Wears a black trench coat and dark gray turtleneck when actually going out and doing shit, the black hoodie is lounge clothes

Has a tail!!!! Closest resemblance to a lion tail, but larger

Lots of catlike/animal like behaviors unconsciously. Will sit on any elevated surface

Purrs like holy fuck the first time someone hears him do it they freak out

Can also growl and hiss

Despite the animalistic behaviors and feral demeanor he isn’t above being civilized

Mostly calm. Gets the zoomies after eating tho

And by zoomies I mean he’s more excitable and extroverted for a little while

Has probably ran around the woods like a maniac at least once tho

Besides Nurse Ann, he’s the most medically competent of the pastas. People usually go to him for more major injuries or sicknesses

Despite his constant orifice leakage he tries to be as clean as possible

His lab is SPOTLESS

somehow figured out a way to dilute his face goop to clean it better. No one knows how he does it tho

Is still very much a nerd. Loves reading any kind of book he can get his hands on

Starts going blind if he doesn’t satiate his hunger for flesh and organs

If he goes blind before getting food, he’s able to use echolocation pretty damn well

Can also see thermal outlines of stuff if his vision starts going

Eyes aren’t reflective so it’s pretty funny when he’s gargoyling somewhere in the manor in pitch black and someone walks in and gets startled by him sitting there staring into the void

HOW are his footsteps so silent

Dude you’re 5”8 and have a stockier build how do you not make floorboards creek

Can eat normal food, but poses no nutritional value to him

Can halfway survive off raw animal meat in emergencies, but doesn’t give him enough energy for long

Only fully kills someone about once a month, the rest of the time he’s able to meticulously and stealthily steal a kidney from unsuspecting victims without incident

Not that he hates killing or anything like that, he’s just as violent as the rest of the freaks

But he HATES the feeling of losing control he often gets when he indulges the violent urges. So he holds himself back most of the time

Besides murder and organ harvesting he often goes out to steal medical supplies from houses and smaller town clinics

Remember him being a nerd? Likes to impress people with gross biology trivia. Most are about the human body but he knows a ton of animal facts too

“Did you know flies and roaches can still live without their heads” type shit

Can’t cook for shit. He’s not allowed in the kitchen period after one of his organ jars exploded in the fridge due to air pressure bs. Ruined all the food in there

Stores his organs in four different mini fridges in his room and lab

Kidneys give him the most energy but he enjoys flesh more than organs when it comes to taste

His favorite is cheek meat and anything involving the neck

Loves to burst the carotid artery and mess around with the blood like a sprinkler toy

Gives the bones of any corpse he fully consumes to Slender. Has no idea what he needs the bones for but never cares to ask

Friends/close with Ben, Helen, Liu, Ann, Masky, and Hoody

Has a tolerable relationship with Jeff, Kagekao, Slenderman, the Puppeteer, Jane, and Clockwork

Doesn’t get along with/hates LJ and Nina

Sally is TERRIFIED of him. Y’know cause little kids are scared of the doctor and whatnot. He tries his best to be as unintimidating as possible when around her but she still prefers Ann over him

HATES being called EJ. It’s a horrible nickname. What if he walked up to you and called you legless Larry after cutting off your legs?

Abrosexual

Loves loves loves LOVES doing dissections/vivisections. Has somehow been able to convince or bribe the other undead and non human mansion inhabitants to let him do a vivisection on them at least once.

Ben enjoyed it the most because he’s a freak like that

“And this is your heart” “gross……. can I poke it” “yeah ok”

Is unfortunately able to understand the corrupt scripts of [REDACTED] thanks to the ritual that took his eyes and life. Tries his best to ignore it.

Nightmare haver! Is too stubborn to go to someone like Ben or Slender to get them less frequently even though both could easily help him

Kind of an insomniac anyways but since his face is almost always covered no one notices the eye bags

Usually takes the top layer mask off around his friends, or if the other masked pastas take theirs off around them as a sign of mutual trust

Surgical mask on their face stays on constantly unless eating or doing anything privately

Has to keep the meds locked up because Ben, Masky, and Jeff have drug problems

“STOP trying to get high off Benadryl it’s not even allergy season anymore you don’t need it”

Not a “dad” character he just doesn’t like wasting resources like that

Doesn’t care about the actual habits JUST STOP STEALING HIS MEDS

LJ for some reason keeps stealing any of his used needles and scalpels. Jack’s best bet is he puts the sharp objects in candy. Gross.

He’s befriended Seedeater the same way a zookeeper befriends a large dangerous animal

Both have a mutual understanding Seed is NOT a pet

It hasn’t even let them pet or touch it

Does follow him closely like a dog whenever he walks through the forest for any reason

Jack has witnessed it take down and decapitate a bear with a single bite before

If he ever has leftovers or parts of corpses about to go bad that they can’t eat himself, they feed it to Seed

Has a small collection of the black fur and feathers that naturally shed from Seed’s body

Also collects other odd things like animal bones or human teeth

His favorite weird thing they’ve collected is a taxidermied axolotl stolen from a victim’s home

Is also super blunt

Not out of malice, he just has a very technical straightforward way of thinking

Always asks anyone for consent when doing anything physical like medical procedures or even just nudging someone out of the way if he’s trying to get somewhere

HATES being touched without their permission or knowledge

Will bite if provoked. Will bite as a warning too

#in my top 3 #blorbo #eyeless jack #eyeless Jack headcanons #eyeless Jack HC #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #horror #headcanons #ej #eyeless jack creepypasta #creepypasta hcs

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 11 months

Note

babe, first of all, I hope you doing well 🥰 and second, but not least important, i'll do love if write some toxic fluffy whith jack, where, after a argument, she hurts or puts herself in dangerous just to get revenge, but nothing really serius happens to her, they reconizing they're not in a helth reletionship, but they gonna try to be better for eachother, you also can add some smut if you like, but this is not part of the request. hope you liked the idea, but if you don't, let me know

xoxo

My dearest anon...this is a lot of things but not exactly fluffy and I'm sorry if I went too hard on it but toxic Jack Thurlow had me short circuiting 😵‍💫😵‍💫

The Pain Remains

Summary: This time you really lost the plot for good and now all you can do is to clean up your act.

Pairing: Jack Thurlow x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Content Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! 18+!, Grim Dark Smut, Active Self Harm, Jealousy, Borderline Very Toxic Relationship, Two Idiots In Love Trying To Do Better, It's Very Mentally Ill In Here, Mutual Substance Abuse, Very Shitty Coping Mechanisms, Strong Hints Towards Sex Addiction, Mentions Of Public Sex, Angsty As Fuck, Positive Ending, Tho 🙆🏻‍♀️!

A/N: I know, this is a rather heavy one and if anyone of you feels the need to talk to someone: My DMs are always open. Don't hesitate to reach out!🖤

Tagging The Squad:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @roryculkinsbf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @b4sementgrl @blueberrypancakesworld

If the past is just dust

Then the future could be our dream

If all we have is now, this eternity

Ignite my satisfaction, engulf me

- The Pain Remains I By Lorna Shore

Before you even really woke up, you were forced to acknowledge the raging hangover headache in your head. With eyes closed shut, you turned to the side, your hand haphazardly roaming over the silhouette of Jack's body, looking for a glimpse of comforting body heat or just anything to get your racing mind to shut up for a second.

How did you get into bed? At what time did you fall onto the mattress next to him?

You had no clue about any of that as you pressed your body against his back, the pungent aftertaste of cheap rum still lingering heavily on your tongue.

"Fucking hell…" You groaned into the nape of his neck, your nose buried deep in his curly, brown hair and yet you could still smell the remnants of last night's pot extravaganza all throughout the bedroom.

What in the everloving fuck had the two of you been up to last night? With relentlessly firing synapses and painfully overdriven neurons you searched your mind for answers, a flicker of a memory, at this point anything, really.

You couldn't help yourself but to let your face contort into various tortured grimaces as the rest of your body slowly came to. Your stomach felt horribly fucked and in dire need for something solid, although the mere thought of food alone had you nearly gagging. No, you needed something else to take the edge off before you even so much as got out of bed.

Whilst inhaling deep, unsteady breaths, you soaked in the calming smell of Jack's body; a mixture of pheromone-loaded sweat, musky deodorant and soft hints of vanilla coke.

Vanilla coke spiked with cheap rum. Your stomach dropped and turned in every possible direction at the reminder. Nearly every weekend played out in the same shit show again and again: Booze to kill the anxiety, weed to elevate your spirit and nearly deranged amounts of sex to eradicate and simply drown out every last painful sentiment that could possibly be felt.

On that notion your lips curled up into a crooked smile whilst your reader fingertips grazed down your boyfriends gently rising and falling again chest, gingerly drawing a circle or two around his navel before eventually tapping down to the waistband of his black and gray checkered shorts, a throbbing case of morning wood straining against the fabric already. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth in a low gasp, you simply indulged yourself and allowed your hand to slip right past the waistband, fingers wrapping themselves around Jack's girth tenderly.

"Goddamn minx!" Jack hissed into the darkened bedroom and involuntarily jutted his hips against your hand.

"Want me to stop?" You whispered into the soft skin of his shoulder before biting down on it teasingly.

"No, please.", His voice was raspy enough to give you a broad idea about how much the two of you must've smoked last night, "I'm equal parts hungover and horny as fuck."

"Yeah, I thought so." You snickered while you started fisting his cock, generously smearing the pre-cum all over the sensitive tip to not stroke him sore with a dry palm.

"You're a fucking menace, you know that?" Jack stuttered, choking back a breathy moan while rocking is lap in quick rolls, practically fucking himself into your grip.

"Says the lunatic who'll take every and any given chance to fumble me in public? Finger fucking me in the cinema, really?" With a mischievous grin spreading all across your face, you fondly remembered that happening a few days ago.

"C'mon, you enjoyed that, cumming all over the seat like you did." Jack shot right back at you.

"Fair enough." You agreed, tightening the grip around his hard on slightly to drag a shaky sigh from his lips.

"Fuck, you know I can't last long that early into the day." Jack practically whined out, his hips thrusting harshly against your hand while you jerked him off.

"Oh, poor, little Jack." Your playfully mocking voice got lost in the glossy curls of his hair as you felt his entire body turning stiff against your torso.

"Say that again… please!" Jack was clearly about to come undone, needing that little push of humiliation to push past the threshold.

"Oh, you sick fuck.", You sneered into his ear, the tip of your nose hardly touching its shell, "Poor, little Jack Thurlow creaming his boxers just after a few minutes already, huh?"

"Good god, fuck, you're so mean!" It cascaded out of his mouth in a guttural moan as he rutted against your hand in a few last, shaky thrusts before white-hot ropes of cum ruined his boxers and your hand alike.

The milky fluid spouted all over your fingers and eventually down your wrist, causing a very sudden, sharp pinch of simmering pain.

"What the hell?!" You hissed and withdrew your hands from Jack's crotch, raising it up for the both of you to stare right at the scene of the crime.

"What…" Jack mumbled under his breath, his eyes going wide in shock.

Thin yet vigorous cuts thrown all over your wrist, bright red with inflammation and laced with a milky layer of Jack's cum, laughing right in your face about the current state of your mental health.

"What…no…NO!" Your voice flailed and trembled as you stared at your wrist with thrashing disbelief.

"I was clean for a year! This…this isn't happening, no!" A dull pang of pain shot right through your dehydrated head as you basically jumped off the mattress and stumbled towards the bathroom, nearly tripping over scattered clothing and a glass bong.

Unbridled waves of shame and disgusting rippled through your system as a supernova of blacked-out memories decided to implode inside your head. You'd been pissed last night, even furious with Jack about something…yeah..fuck..a call. Was it call? Yeah, of course, a call from is ex-fiancé Cleo, that fucking cunt. Dumped him because she couldn't handle Jack the way you could and now trying to patch things up again. Stupid twat.

"Hey, wait!" You heard Jack calling out to you from behind, coming right after you.

Your out of control body fell against the door frame of the bathroom as you hurried towards the sink, yanking at the faucet for icy cold water to cascade over your violated wrist. It stung and you winced at the sharp pain.

"Are you okay? What the hell happened!?" Jack huffed, only stopping in steps as he was right behind you, making his presence known by cupping your jittery frame with his body, his chin resting on your shoulder as his slender hands wrapped themselves around yours under the running faucet.

His thumb ghosted over the cuts, gently washing himself off of your sore skin.

"Obviously not, asshole!" It shot right out of you and you regretted it immediately.

"Hey, watch that mouth! Right now is not the time for that." He mumbled into the crook of your neck.

"Fuck, sorry… I really lost the plot this time, huh?" Your voice was but a meak whimper.

"Maybe, but I got you. This is a temporary setback, yes, but not the end of the world, you hear me?" His tone rendered soft as he tried to calm you down.

"The cuts are shallow and if we take good care of them they'll heal without leaving a single scar. It'll be okay, yeah?" By now the water numbed your wrist out to the point that you didn't feel his thumb wiping you clean anymore.

"Uh-huh…I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry for being such a fucking psycho, Jack." The shame and self-loathing doubled down on you, dragging you into an inevitable breakdown.

"Stop that right there! You're not a psycho and I don't love you any less, you understand?", He pressed himself to you as impossibly close as he could, "A little slip up like that won't scare me. I'll go through that hell right here with you, I promise. I'll never go anywhere and just leave you like that."

Everything inside of you came falling down, every painful emotion amped up by the raging hangover that ruled over your shaking muscles and you just let yourself fall against Jack in eventual defeat.

"I got you and we'll handle that together!"

#rory culkin #asks are appreciated #asks are always open #jack thurlow × you #jack thurlow x fem!reader #jack thurlow #jack goes home #jack thurlow x reader #jack thurlow smut

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isalisewrites · 2 months

Text

Listen, it's that time of the year again! The biannual bullshit in the form of 10 hours over the course of two days called the Mormon General Conference has begun and I'm forced to watch since I'm a PIMO Mormon (physically in, mentally out). This means a bit of an interruption to my usual writing, fandom, Tomarry, Legend of Zelda, and general gay shenanigans.

However, this is the first time where I'm emotionally and spiritually in a powerful, stable place and I'm officially unaffected by these talks. (I still like to bitch about them, tho, haha) They don't wound me like they have done before. They hold no power over me now. I remember how deeply affected and spiritually wounded I felt in April 2022, weeks before my "shelf" would break and my faith finally deconstructed to its end. But even General Conferences afterwards, I would still feel sickened by the talks.

I'm free of their spiritual shackles on my heart and soul.

I'm sorry, but it's become glaringly obvious that these men have nothing truly good to say. When you're in it, you don't see just how vapid and empty their words are. There's nothing of substance. There are no solutions. No. Reading scriptures and praying and "following the covenant path" are NOT solutions.

These men have no power and no authority. They are too old to make true change, just like the politicians in our government. We're taught they have the power of god, but they don't. Sorry, gentlemen, but you're nothing in comparison to my own uterus, which ACTIVELY wants to kill me. I don't fear you. I have no fears. You are weak in the face of my unwavering strength and peace as an unbeliever, who has no absolute answers about the nature of life and death.

I have peace you can't comprehend.

After all, if there is an afterlife where we must face our actions with our fellow humankind, I'm confident in my personal integrity. I am filled with sass, but I am kind and loving. Those who know me know this.

You... however... there is need for concern.

After all...

Where is your integrity when you protect and hide the vast variety of abusers?

Where is your integrity when you actively suppress women, demoting their status to ONLY wives and mothers?

Where is your integrity when you hate and turn on your LGBTQ+ siblings and deny them access to your heaven?

Where is your integrity when you lie and hide the dark truths of the origins of Mormonism?

Where is your integrity when you point blank lie about the wealth accumulated, to the point the American government FINED you for it?

Where is your integrity when you use that wealth to buy commercial properties?

Where is your integrity in the lack of building homeless shelters, schools, parks, or whatever could enrich and protect the local communities?

Where is your integrity when you spend millions of dollars on gilded temples in favor of the dead when the living sit homeless, exposed to the elements and without food, in the streets a block from those doors?

True integrity is a strength of self. My integrity demands of me to call out the bullshit and the lies; it tells me to remain calm in face of those who refuse to see my true heart, who claim that I am the one without light. I remain unaffected when those I love lash out at me because I no longer align with their thoughts and beliefs.

If you cannot see my heart, then it's clear you're the blind one.

"Christian kindness is not a substitute for integrity."

This is a contradicting statement. True integrity cannot be without kindness and love. No kindness? No integrity. No exceptions.

True integrity is NOT where you avoid "criticizing the doctrine or the culture" or the leadership in Mormonism.

What hypocrisy.

#exmo #exmormon #ex mormon #fucking religion #ex religious #mormon #Mormonism #lds #lds church #mormon church #ex christian #general conference #pimo #exmo stuff #ex lds #religious trauma

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bubuslutty · 1 year

Text

Bambi with fangs

part 2, all parts

Moodboard

pairing: lumberjack! frank castle x (mutant) vampire fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

tags: attempted sa not from Frank tho obvs, typical Frank violence, mutants exist, (kinda) drug use and substance abuse, tell me if I missed anything

warning: attempted sa, violence (Frank beats the shit out of a bunch of people, no killing tho), blood

Summary: Frank wanted someone to bring a little bit of excitement to his boring yet peaceful life. Maybe someone who wasn't scared of anything, who could handle being with him and his bloody baggage of violence and death that he still has to drag around with him. But what he was not expecting, was to end with an armful of mutant, all fangy and pretty with blood running down her nose and chin.

a/n: I am NOT from the US, so I apologise in advance for using the wrong terms for things. I just want to write a fic of Frank having his own fangy gf okay??? even though he's a lumberjack, there's not much details abt his life here, but all of that will be explored in part 2, hopefully 🤞

Frank took a deep breath, feeling his overworked muscles ache and joints snap. He rubbed his face and placed his hat on the counter, raising two fingers to order two beers.

Frank was alone by the bar as usual, straight out of work and tired as hell. He really should be home by now, showering, making himself something to eat and throwing himself in bed to get some hours in before he goes to work tomorrow. But he always finds himself in the grim bar in town, drinking until Josie refuses to give him any more beer and reminds him he has to drive home.

Frank wonders why he keeps finding himself sitting at a stool, hunched over his drink and mulling over his boring yet peaceful life. Maybe he secretly yearns for something, or someone to disrupt his routine. To bring something along the way, be it a bit of excitement, love or even lust, Frank’s tired of lying to himself that he's just content living as a virgin lumberjack, even if he chose to live that way.

There are people in town, both men and women who have expressed their interest in him. Frank always politely declined their advances, not because he found them undesirable, but simply because he was still a dangerous man, even if he ran as far as he could from his old life. He doesn’t have the heart to drag anyone in and one day wake up to death at his doorstep. If he wants to let someone in and let them be associated with him, Frank wants them to be capable of protecting themselves from anything. It’s all Frank asks for.

Over the music playing from the old jukebox, Frank heard the commotion near the toilets. He looked over his shoulder and saw multiple shadows casting over the wall, but no bodies as they were all behind the corner. Frank turned to Josie, who was serving some other clients and she didn’t seem like she heard anything, but neither did anyone else.

Frank felt like he had to stand up and go see what was going on. And he did. Frank gulped down the rest of his second beer and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, grabbing his hat and placing a few bills on the counter. He quickly looked over his shoulder and turned over the dark corner leading to the toilets.

The first thing he saw was a group of men talking in hushed voices, well, they thought they were talking in hushed voices but Frank could hear their voices clearly.

“What do we do?”

“I think I saw her before, isn’t she famous?”

“What would a famous person do in our shithole of town, idiot?”

“She’s pretty, prettier than your girlfriend, huh?”

“Is she breathing? She looks out of it.”

Then he saw her, slumped on the floor against the wall, hair on her face, blood running her nose and staining her lips and chin. She was wearing a pink lace bralette under a cropped jean jacket, jean shorts with a belt and silver-heeled boots. The stranger was also wearing necklaces, bracelets and earrings, all glinting every time a car zoomed in front of the bar and the light rushed in through the windows.

Frank noticed the men shuffling closer and noticed the second their looks changed and body tensing up. His stomach would’ve dropped if he was anyone else but all Frank felt was a wave of violent disgust and he acted before his brain could catch up.

“What are you doing?”

The men flinched and turned around, eyes wide at being caught red-handed.

“Oh, it’s just the weird guy who works for Marco.”

“Listen, man, this is none of your business.”

Frank clenched his jaw, his index finger twitching and eyes glaring daggers at the disgusting men.

“Leave her alone.” Frank said, voice deep and gruff.

One of the men glared at Frank, “Look man, we clearly don’t want you here, so how about you get the fuck out of here?”

“Hey, calm down.” Another guy said to his hostile friend, turning to Frank with raised hands, in mock peace.

“Or you can have a piece, how’s that?” He said, grinning and making Frank even more starving to punch the man’s face in until his own mother can’t recognise him.

“Get her inside.” Frank said, lifting his chin towards the men’s toilets and making them snicker.

As the men dragged her unconscious body inside, Frank grabbed his phone from his pocket and quickly sent a text before shoving it back in his pocket.

Me: it’s urgent

Me: walk down to Josie's and don’t tell May

When the men dragged her inside the toilets and closed the door, they placed her in a sitting position against the wall and then looked up at Frank expectantly.

Frank held eye contact with them as he slowly unbuckled his belt and they started snickering again but their snickers quickly died out when Frank started wrapping his belt around one of his knuckles.

“What are you doing?..”

Frank calmly washed his bloody hands in one of the sinks and glanced in the mirror, at the heap of bloody and unconscious men on the floor.

He turned to the woman and saw her move her fingers, struggling to open her eyes. Frank walked over and kneeled next to her, “Hey, can you open your eyes?”

The woman groaned and slowly opened her eyes, struggling to focus them on the man in front of her.

“Who are you?” She asked, voice rough.

“Frank. I’m Frank, and what's your name? Do you know where you are?” Frank asked, grabbing her arm when he saw he try pushing her body up from the floor.

“Careful, you’re drunk.” He reminded her, keeping a tight grip on her arm as she struggled to stand up straight.

“I’m not drunk.” She said, squinting her eyes at him and walking towards the door, trying and failing to grab the doorknob.

“Sure you’re not.” Frank muttered and twisted the doorknob open for her, and she started walking down the little corridor on wobbly legs, away from the toilets.

He was about to ask about her name, or just escort her outside so she can get some fresh air and sober up, and hopefully call someone, a friend or family member to pick her up when she stopped dead in her tracks, falling back on Frank’s chest.

“Careful.” He grabbed her shoulders so she wouldn’t fall to the side and crack her head.

But then he noticed her terrified face and frowned, “Are you okay?”

“No- Can you uh, look if there’s a man with blond hair and a beard? He’s tall- And he- Can you just check for me, please?” She pleaded and Frank nodded.

He kept a hold on one of her arms so she wouldn’t slip and die and he looked around the corner and there he was, the man she described accompanied by 3 other men as he spoke to Josie.

“Have you seen a girl around here? She’s about this tall and drives a pink car.” The man asked Josie who shook her head, “Sorry, haven’t seen anyone with that description.”

“Are you sure? Because we saw her car outside your bar?”

Frank turned to look at the woman when he heard a gasp come out of her.

“That’s my car you’re talking about, asshole!” An old woman angrily said from the back of the bar, making her friends glare at the strange men.

The men looked at each other and thanked Josie before leaving the bar.

“I want to leave-” The woman choked out and Frank’s eyes widened when her body hunched over and she coughed violently, spitting blood at her feet.

“Hey, hey-” Frank held the woman’s body up when her knees gave out and her head rolled to the side, limbs limp and sweat breaking out of her flawless skin.

Frank acted quickly and removed his flannel, wrapping it around her body and placing his hat on her head. His phone suddenly rang and he cursed under his breath, digging the device out of his pocket and holding it to his ear.

“Are you here? Meet me at the backdoors.” Frank said.

“Meet you at the- Frank what did you do?” A younger man said on the phone.

“Just meet me outside.” Frank said and hung up, ignoring the man’s protests over the phone.

Frank looked around and walked with the unconscious woman at his side, an arm wrapped around her waist while one of her arms was around his neck. He walked to the back of the bar, and luckily nobody saw them, then he pushed the backdoor with his shoulder.

The cold air of the night made him let out a shaky breath as soon as he stepped outside. Frank leaned against the wall, letting the woman’s weight rest on his side as he looked around.

“Frank, what did you do?” A scared voice suddenly asked.

It was a young man with big brown eyes and brown hair sticking from his beanie, staring at Frank and the unconscious woman with wide eyes.

“Peter, I swear this isn’t what it looks like.” Frank said, digging a hand in one of his pockets and taking out his keys and throwing them to Peter who caught them without looking.

“Can you get my truck and I’ll explain?” Frank said, still holding the woman upright.

“You have blood on your shirt.” Peter said, pointing at the drops of blood on Frank’s shirt, obviously not his.

“Peter, please.” Frank gritted through his teeth and the young man glared at him and turned around to go get his truck around.

“Are you going to explain to me who’s this woman? Is she unconscious? Dead? And why do you have blood on your shirt?” Peter asked from the driver’s seat while Frank was sitting on the passenger’s seat, supporting the woman’s weight on him, her legs over his thighs and head against his chest.

“I don’t know who she is. I found her unconscious at Josie’s near the toilets.” Frank told Peter.

“And the blood?” Peter asked, glancing at the woman on his friend’s lap.

“Bunch of assholes were going to take advantage of her.” Frank spit out and Peter tightened his hold on the steering wheel, clenching his jaw.

“Did you kill them?” Peter asked and Frank glanced at the young man.

“No.”

And silence fell between them for long time before Peter asked, “Why are we taking her to your place and not to the police station?”

“Some people were looking after her. And we don’t know if she even wants to go to the cops in the first place.” Frank said making Peter nod in understanding.

When Peter parked the truck in front of Frank’s place, he ran to unlock the front door of Frank’s house and turned on the lights so the other could carry her inside. Luckily Frank lives next to the woods, far from the other houses so nobody saw them.

“Why do I feel like I’m doing something illegal? If I get in trouble, I’m telling May it’s all your fault.” Peter said, closing the door and taking off his beanie to run his hand through his brown hair.

“Can you get me a wet washcloth? She’s burning up.” Frank said and Peter walked to the kitchen while the strange woman was laying on the couch. Frank removed his flannel from around her body and threw it to the side, then her jean jacket in an attempt to cool her body down.

“Here.” Peter gave Frank the washcloth and watched Frank move her hair out of her face and gasped when he finally noticed the drying blood on her nose, lips and chin.

“What happened to her? That’s a lot of blood…” Peter said watching Frank wipe as much blood as he could with the washcloth, and then use the clean side to dab her forehead.

Frank then used his other hand to feel around her face, especially her nose. “It’s not broken… I can’t tell if she had a really bad nosebleed or if this blood is not even hers.”

“Not hers? How can you get someone else’s blood in your nose?” Peter frowned at the man’s words and jumped when the woman suddenly opened her eyes.

The woman blinked up at the ceiling, and then abruptly sat up and hissed, holding her head in her hand. Frank and Peter watched her in silence as if as soon as they make a noise they’ll scare her like a frightened deer.

“Where- Where am I?” She hissed, looking around the room frantically, cheeks flushed with the fever and eyes watering with the onslaught of light.

“You’re in my house, remember me? Frank?” Frank spoke as gently as possible while Peter watched her with wide eyes.

The woman frowned in confusion before realisation finally dawned on her, “I remember you. You’re the guy who- who- ” She approached Frank and sniffed the air around him, eyes glancing down at the blood on his shirt.

“You didn’t kill them.” She said with surprise.

Frank didn’t know what to say so he looked at Peter, who was even more confused and slightly scared than he was.

The strange woman stood up but her legs immediately wobbled and she almost fell face first but Peter luckily grabbed her.

“Take it slow, Bambi.” Frank scolded, hands hovering in the air.

However, the woman didn’t seem like she heard Frank and was looking up at Peter with wide eyes.

“You smell really nice.” She pointed out.

“What?”

The woman stood up straight, well, as much as she could while using the couch as support.

“Uhm, sorry about that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me…” She quickly said, scratching her neck and breathing deeply.

“Look, you’re still drunk so sit down.” Frank sighed and stood up to drag her to sit down or she’ll fall, crack her head open and die in his living room.

“I’m not drunk.” She fiercely hissed at him and Frank’s eyes widened when he saw two unnaturally sharp canines glinting between her pink glossy lips.

“I think I’ve got a lethal dose of drugs in my system.” She muttered, scratching her neck and walking around the living room on still wobbly legs, looking for something to drink.

“Lethal dose of- Frank, we have to go to the hospital right now.” Peter said mildly terrified and very concerned.

“No! I don’t need to go to the hospital!” She shouted, whipping her head towards the two frozen men.

“You’re going to die.” Frank said.

“No, I won’t. Just tell me where’s your fridge.” She said.

“How are you so sure it’s not going to kill you? You can’t even walk straight.” Frank frowned and got up, walking over to his kitchen while Peter just stood there, gawking at her and the fangs he saw a couple of seconds ago.

“You haven’t figured it out yet? I’m a vampire, a type of mutant.” She said, bringing her fingers to pull her lip up and expose sharp canines.

Frank’s eyes widened and she scoffed, “Don’t look at me like that, he’s a mutant as well, this shouldn’t be news to you.”

She walked up to him and nudged him to the side and started rummaging through the fridge.

“How did you?-” Peter looked mortified but also incredibly intrigued at the same time.

“Smelled you.” She quickly answered before completely inhaling a beer bottle seconds.

Frank watched her drink all of the beers in his fridge, one after the other without breaks to even breathe. When she drank all of them, she closed the fridge and held Frank by the shoulder, “Sorry about your beers, but gotta flush the drugs out of my system somehow.”

“Who are you?” Peter managed to finally ask.

The woman looked at him and then glanced back at Frank’s perplexed face, “You can call me Bambi, for now.”

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @awkwardalie @enretrogue @itwasthereaminuteago @snowkestrel

Here's also a small treat I found on Pinterest (LOOK AT JON'S BEARD WHAAAA)

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