#i’m definitely going to abuse this feature in the future

[flaminghomosexualbreadsticks]

YOU CAN PAUSE AND REWIND GIFS?!?!?!

#tumblr #tumblr features #i have made a discovery #i’m definitely going to abuse this feature in the future #that is a promise

[theomnilegent]

2024 Upcoming Sapphic Fiction I’m Excited For! 🏳️‍🌈

Here are the top nine sapphic books I'm looking forward to for 2024! This year I'm excited to see how much more diversity there is amongst sapphic fiction - racial diversity, physical diversity, gender and sexuality diversity! Every year we get more and more books featuring a wider range of characters, and it makes me delighted every time.

2024 seems to be the year of the butch and otherwise gender non-conforming sapphic characters! There is even, much to my joy, a book about drag kings! I've been wanting a book about drag kings since I first started reading sapphic fiction, so I'm so pleased that one finally exists!

Below you'll find Goodreads links and summaries to each book. As always, this list is only a starting point - if you want to find more sapphic fiction, there's plenty to find on Goodreads and StoryGraph!

Furious by Jamie Pacton

After years racing go-karts and looking up to her mother, a celebrity Nascar racer, Jojo Emerson-Boyd should be starting her own racing career. But when she loses her mom in a tragic crash, Jojo’s future comes to a screeching halt. Now her dad won’t let her get a license, much less race. Instead, she’s stuck working at her grandmother’s mechanic shop in the sleepy small town of Dell’s Hollow.

But Jojo’s heart quickens when Motorcycle Girl Eliana “El” Blum shows up at the shop. El grew up on the motocross circuit sidelines, watching her sister and idol Maxine compete. When El mysteriously loses all contact with Max, she’s determined to find her, with her first clue leading straight to the mechanic shop, and to Jojo.

United by fate, the two quickly bond over Mario Kart showdowns and the Fast & Furious films. As their friendship shifts into something more, they’ll have to confront both their growing romance and the grief woven into their complicated families if they hope to chase down their dreams and make it across the finish line.

How You Get the Girl by Anita Kelly When smart-mouthed Vanessa Lerner joins the high school basketball team Julie Parker coaches, Julie’s ready for the challenge. What she’s not ready for is Vanessa’s new foster parent, Elle Cochrane—former University of Tennessee basketball star. While star-struck at first, soon Julie persuades Elle to step into the unfilled position of assistant coach for the year.  Even though Elle has stayed out of the basketball world since an injury ended her short-lived WNBA career, the gig might be a way to become closer to Vanessa—and to spend more time with Julie, who makes Elle laugh. As the coaches grow closer, Elle has a hard time understanding how Julie is single. When Julie reveals her lifelong insecurity about dating and how she wishes it was more like sports—being able to practice first—it sparks an intriguing idea. While Elle still doubts her abilities as a basketball coach, helping Julie figure out dating is definitely something she can do. But as the basketball season progresses, and lines grow increasingly blurred, Julie and Elle must decide to join the game—or retreat to the sidelines.

Late Bloomer by Mazey Eddings

Winning the lottery has ruined Opal Devlin’s life. After quitting her dead-end job where she’d earned minimum wage and even less respect, she’s bombarded by people knocking at her door for a handout the second they found out her bank account was overflowing with cash. And Opal can’t seem to stop saying yes.

With her tender heart thoroughly abused, Opal decides to protect herself by any means necessary, which to her translates to putting almost all her new money to buying a failing flower farm in Asheville, North Carolina to let the flowers live out their plant destiny while she uses the cabin on the property to start her painting business.

But her plans for isolation and self-preservation go hopelessly awry when an angry (albeit gorgeous) Pepper Smith is waiting for her at her new farm. Pepper states she’s the rightful owner of Thistle and Bloom Farms, and isn’t moving out. The unlikely pair strike up an agreement of co-habitation, and butt-heads at every turn. Can these opposites both live out their dreams and plant roots? Or will their combustible arguing (and growing attraction) burn the whole place down?

A Banh Mi for Two by Trinity Nguyen

In Sài Gòn, Lan is always trying to be the perfect daughter, dependable and willing to care for her widowed mother and their bánh mì stall. Her secret passion, however, is A Bánh Mì for Two, the food blog she started with her father, but has stopped updating since his passing.

Meanwhile, Vietnamese American Vivi Huynh, has never been to Việt Nam. Her parents rarely even talk about the homeland that clearly haunts them. So Vivi secretly goes to Vietnam for a study abroad program her freshman year of college. She’s determined to figure out why her parents left, and to try everything she’s seen on her favorite food blog, A Bánh Mì for Two.

When Vivi and Lan meet in Sài Gòn, they strike a deal. Lan will show Vivi around the city, helping her piece together her mother’s story through crumbling photographs and old memories. Vivi will help Lan start writing again so she can enter a food blogging contest. And slowly, as they explore the city and their pasts, Vivi and Lan fall in love.

The No-Girlfriend Rule by Christen Randall

Hollis Beckwith isn’t trying to get a girl—she’s just trying to get by. For a fat, broke girl with anxiety, the start of senior year brings enough to worry about. And besides, she already has a Chris. Their relationship isn’t particularly exciting, but it’s comfortable and familiar, and Hollis wants it to survive beyond senior year. To prove she’s a girlfriend worth keeping, Hollis decides to learn Chris’s favorite tabletop roleplaying game, Secrets & Sorcery—but his unfortunate “No Girlfriends at the Table” rule means she’ll need to find her own group if she wants in.

Gloria Castañeda and her all-girls game of S&S! Crowded at the table in Gloria’s cozy Ohio apartment, the six girls battle twisted magic in-game and become fast friends outside it. With her character as armor, Hollis starts to believe that maybe she can be more than just fat, anxious, and a little lost.

But then an in-game crush develops between Hollis’s character and the bard played by charismatic Aini Amin-Shaw, whose wide, cocky grin makes Hollis’s stomach flutter. As their gentle flirting sparks into something deeper, Hollis is no longer sure what she wants…or if she’s content to just play pretend.

We Got the Beat by Jenna Miller

Jordan Elliot is a fat, nerdy lesbian, and the first junior to be named editor-in-chief of the school newspaper. Okay, that last part hasn’t happened yet, but it will. It’s positive thinking that has gotten Jordan this far. Ever since Mackenzie West, her friend-turned-enemy, humiliated her at the start of freshman year, Jordan has thrown herself into journalism and kept her eyes trained on the future.

So it’s a total blow when Jordan discovers that she not only didn’t get the editor-in-chief spot, but she’s been assigned the volleyball beat instead. And who is the star and new captain of the volleyball team? Mackenzie West. But words are Jordan’s weapon, and she has some ideas about how to exact a long-awaited revenge on her nemesis.

Then things get murky when forced time together has Mack and Jordan falling back into their friendship, and into something more. And when Mack confesses the real reason she turned on Jordan freshman year, it has Jordan questioning everything—past, present, and future. If Jordan lets her guard down and Mack in, will she get everything she wants, or will she be humiliated all over again?

Playing for Keeps by Jennifer Dugan

June is the star pitcher of her elite club baseball team—with an ego to match—and she's a shoo-in to be recruited at the college level, like her parents have always envisioned. That is, if she can play through an overuse injury that has recently gone from bad to worse.

Ivy isn't just reffing to pay off her athletic fees or make some extra cash on the side. She wants to someday officiate at the professional level, even if her parents would rather she go to college instead.

The first time they cross paths, Ivy throws June out of a game for grandstanding. Still, they quickly grow from enemies to begrudging friends . . . and then something more. But the rules state that players and umpires are prohibited from dating.

As June's shoulder worsens, and a rival discovers the girls' secret and threatens to expose them, everything the two have worked so hard for is at risk. Now both must follow their dreams . . . or follow their hearts?

The Summer Love Strategy by Ray Stoeve

Hayley always has a crush. The problem is, her crushes never like her back. After her latest unrequited love—a girl from her basketball team—gets a boyfriend, she decides she’s done falling for girls who are unavailable. Her best friend, Talia, wants romance too, but rarely gets crushes on anyone, and she’s tired of watching Hayley get her heart stomped on over and over. So the two girls make a they’ll help each other find summer love by putting themselves in situations that always lead to romance in movies.

To help carry out their summer love strategy, they make a list of all the places they could find their real-life the beach, the Pride parade, the pool, a MUNA concert, and a party. But as they go to each place and try to find the one , it seems like they just can’t catch a break—they don’t know how to talk to cute strangers, someone mistakes Hayley as straight, and Hayley does a truly unfortunate DIY haircut (that she cannot be held responsible for––it was a crisis!). But when Talia and Hayley finally manage to score dates, will they be able to get out of their own way and really dive into the romances they deserve? Or is summer love not as far off as Hayley thought?

Don't Be a Drag by Skye Quinlan

When eighteen-year-old Briar Vincent's mental health takes a turn for the worst, her parents send her to spend the summer in New York City with her older brother, Beau, also known as the drag queen Bow Regard.

Backstage at the gay bar where Beau performs, Briar just wants to be a fly on the wall, but she can't stand by when the cute but conceited drag king Spencer Read tries to put down another up-and-coming performer. To prove to him that even a brand-new performer could knock him off his pedestal, Briar signs up for the annual drag king competition.

There's just one flaw in her plan: Briar has never done drag before.

With the help of her brother and a few new friends, Briar becomes Edgar Allan Foe, a drag king hellbent on taking Spencer down. But unless she can learn how to shake her anxiety and perform, she doesn't stand a chance of winning Drag King of the Year, overcoming her depression and inner demons, or avoiding falling for her enemy, who might not be so bad after all.

#wlw books #wlw literature #sapphic books #lesbian #queer fiction #lgbt #book recommendations

[wol-fica]

-𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕤 ℙ𝕋𝟠-

pairings - wednesdayaddams x fem!elemental!reader

summary - you had feelings, big feelings, and they get the best of your logical decisions

warnings - kissing, fluff, happy wednesday <333333

an - this was really amazing and cute omg

—————————

Wednesday Addams.

Her name was a statement in and of itself, an alluring force to be reckoned with. She was known to be an emotionless, dull, gruesome individual who didn’t give two shits about anyone or anything.

You met her in sophomore year at Nevermore, in botany class. Sitting two seats to the right and one seat up, she was definitely something— her posture straight as a board and her stare just as hard; she had what your dad called “omph”.

Now that “omph” she had, caught your attention; Wednesday was incredibly attractive, her features being almost perfect in your eyes. Someone had told you once that love at first sight wasn’t real, just a fairy tale told by your parents to make you feel better about your future; but when you saw Wednesday, that whole perspective changed.

She made your heart run a mile a minute, your breath hitch at her presence, your stomach fluttering with butterflies as she spoke; she had you wrapped around her finger and she didn’t even know it.

Or did she?

See, Wednesday was someone who hated love, the whole concept of it. Her parents sappiness and public affections had pushed down all of the complexities she could have acquired; instead she is an empty, black canvas.

But for some odd reason, that canvas was changing. Bursts of color had begun to appear, in rapid strokes that splattered around the whole expanse; a painting was being formed within the depths of her heart.

Wednesday was no fool to attraction, she was aware of the feeling. There have been many guys and girls who have caught her eye for a second longer than most, but she’s never been interested in pursuing them. Dating seemed like a waste of time to her, and she could never see herself as being someone else’s girlfriend.

That was until she met you.

You.

You were quite the ubiquitous person, always awake and present whenever anyone spoke to you. A smile was almost always etched onto your face, small dimples could be seen on your cheeks when you grinned.

Wednesday liked your smile, it was a refreshing sight for her. She sometimes would catch herself just gazing at you, her black eyes droopy and hazy as she soaked in the sunny glow you produced; you were her muse.

Soon she realized she was hooked, infatuated with your presence. Your poise and posture was well kept and strong, something that got Wednesday’s heart to stutter, and you were very very serious about your hygiene, in which got her feeling all woozy.

It was the simple things that got her interested, and it was when she decided to sit with you at lunch that you both started into a talking phase.

Your personalities fitted together like puzzle pieces, slotted to finish the final portrait. Gift giving was a love languages you had, one Wednesday had to get used to, and you abused it SO much when you were beginning to be with her.

You had once bought her a pitch-black obsidian handled knife with your initials carved into the side. The blade was made from steel and bone, sharped to be able to slice through flesh like it was butter.

Wednesday asked you to be her girlfriend the next day.

Your relationship skyrocketed to heaven, clouds surrounding you both in your little grey bubble of love. The two of you were so compatible that even Enid was slightly concerned on why you two had never met before.

“Seriously Y/N, it’s so crazy how soft she is with you.” She said one day over breakfast as you watched Wednesday go to get you your favorite food, “I’m slightly worried that you hypnotized her.”

You laughed, shaking your head while turning back to Enid, “I think she is just different with me than with you.”

Enid scoffed, sipping her orange juice daintily as she rolled her eyes. A large, raw steak sat in front of her, untouched and awaiting to be devoured.

“Does she talk murder tactics with you?” She asked, picking up her fork and knife to cut the meat, “Has she told you about shampoo torture?”

“Yep, and the wonderful ways to attack all human nerves at one time.” You replied, smirked at Enid as you both said the answer.

“Lava Bath.”

You both giggled, your voices carrying to where Wednesday stood in the breakfast line. The sound of your laughter filled her ears, and she couldn’t help but quirk a small smile. She loved your voice; the light, summer-y sound was soothing to her.

After grabbing a plate of food, some utensils, and a glass of chocolate milk, she made her way back to where you and Enid. were seated. Her black eyes were trained onto you, carefully watching your every move.

“Oh thank you!” You said happily, taking the plate from her.

“You’re welcome.” She replied whilst placing your drink and utensils down, “I never knew a person could be addicted to french toast, of all dishes.”

You chuckled, bumping your shoulder against hers after she sat down next to you. Her head tilted at the gesture, but she stayed silent and basked in the calmness of your conversation with Enid about how you can control the elements.

“So is it like a feeling? Or a will?”

“No,” You started, sipping your chocolate milk, “It’s more like an understanding between each creature.”

Wednesday buried her nose into her arm, exhaustion clouding over her as she attempted to stay awake. Due to a boring yet long study session, she did not get her usually 6 hours of sleep and instead took a 30 minute nap and stayed up for the rest of the night.

A warm hand rested on her back, rubbing comforting circles into her spine. She turned her head slightly to see you resting your hand on her, your eyes still on Enid as she spoke.

A rush of emotion hit her, a warm, bubbly feeling erupting in her stomach at your affectionate touch. Her face felt hot, and suddenly she had the urge to kiss you.

You both had previously talked about being more intimate with each other, but Wednesday’s stubbornness and her ill-efficient ways of conveying her thoughts on physical affection caused you to never got to try it out.

You had mentioned once that you were interested in slowly growing to that, and would be open to taking as much time as possible until she was ready for that kind of PDA.

The most Wednesday has ever done with you was hold hands, one hug after her second Poe Cup win, and she has permitted a few kisses on her cheek when you were feeling extra loving on valentine’s day.

“And that’s how I can start and stop the rain!” You said confidently, smiling at Enid while still rubbing Wednesday’s back.

“That’s impressive.” Wednesday commented from her slouched position, a small-dazed smile on her face as she stared at you, “You are stunning, cara mía.”

Your face went pink, your lip slipping in between your teeth as you blushed. Enid giggled, putting her hand over her mouth as she laughed at your flustered state.

“Shut up wolf.” You muttered, looking at the ground.

A sudden confidence came over Wednesday, and the next thing she knew, she was grabbing your face and pulling you into a kiss.

Your lips pressed into hers, soft-plump burgundy against slightly chapped and velvety pink. She pulled you closer, one hand on your waist while the other cupped your face. Eventually, your own hands slid to her cheeks to hold her, to touch her in some way.

She was addicting.

Her taste, her smell, her touch, her body language, the way she was so soft with you, the way she chased your lips after you took a breath; it was heavenly.

“Nes..” You mumbled, your voice muffling by Wednesday kissing you yet again.

You were aware of Enid, and you felt bad as this had to be so weird for her, but your focus was on your girlfriends tasteful kissing skills.

“As much as I love…well…love…this is extremely awkward.”

Wednesday pulled back from you, keeping her hands on your waist as she turned to glare at Enid for interrupting her.

“We were being intimate, leave us be.” She stated, rubbing her thumb on your hip.

“It was intense.” Enid sneered, gulping down the last of her orange juice as you blushed.

Wednesday rolled her eyes and pulled you into her lap as you yelped in surprise, your face going even redder than before. Her arms went around your waist to hold you tighter, her chin resting on your shoulder whilst closing her eyes in exhaustion.

“Sleepy?” You asked her, your hand sliding behind her neck to caress her skin.

She hummed, nodding and pulling you closer so she could lean into you. Enid snorted from across the table which made you turn to catch her taking a photo.

You eyed her with a warning look, raising an eyebrow and twitching your head towards Wednesday as if to say, ‘She will skin you alive if she sees that.’

Enid rolled her eyes but smiled, quickly sending you the picture before getting up to throw her food away and probably bother Yoko. You signed, watching her go before sinking back into Wednesday’s surprisingly comfortable hold.

You were with the girl of your dreams.

————————

*sobbing*

taglist: @crystal-lily-101 @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @rainbow-love4ever  @imhungry-andtired @theafterofnevermore @k1mba @dreaming-of-u @simp4thena @thenextdawn @alexkolax @annalestern @efectoangel @fall-08 @captainbeat @littlegaybutterflysblog @sayaisrotten @deep-fried-egg

#wednesday adams imagine #wednesday adams #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x reader #incorrect wednesday quotes #netflix wednesday #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams fluff #wednesday fanfic #wednesday fic #wednesday fluff #wednesday headcanons #wednesday imagine #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #wednesday tv show #wednesday x enid #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesdayedit #wednesdaynetflix #wednsday addams #addams #wednesday addams x r

[reddeadmort]

Arthur Morgan x f! Reader | “Silvery Threads” | Part 2

AO3 LINK

The boys try to cheer you up, as Arthur wallows in his own guilt and shame. What could possibly go wrong with a little drink in the local saloon?

Words: 3.5k

Notes:

Still a WIP, definitely at least one more chapter coming soon. I think we know exactly where the next chapter is headed.... Charles, Sean and Lenny feature properly in this one!

Warnings:

Game typical violence, bodily scars, references to an abusive past, implied probable violence in the very near future.

Constructive feedback welcomed!

------------------------

So wrapped up were you in your own misery that you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps approach you. When the large hand touched your shoulder you jumped, quickly looking up. Charles’ gentle face was smiling down at you. 

“May I?” he questioned, gesturing to the floor next to you. You smiled weakly back up at him, using one hand to wipe away some of the tears from your face. Moving with a grace unusual for a man of his stature, he slowly eased himself down to sit next to you. A broad arm moved around your shoulder, gently pulling you in for a half hug. You didn’t resist, moving your head to rest on his chest. As you breathed in his scent, you couldn’t help but think how similar it was to Arthur’s; smoke, horses, sweat. Just the thought was enough to set your tears off again. 

Charles didn’t say a word, just held you as you sobbed. All he’d heard was yelling, seen you running off into the trees, and Arthur stumbling off towards the horses. As he jogged over, Sadie had given him the quickest summary she could before sending him off after you into the trees. As your sobs started to fade, you filled in the gaps, stopping short of explaining why Arthur’s reaction had hurt you quite so deeply. 

After a while, once he felt your breath and heartbeat returning to normal, Charles leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on the side of your forehead. “It’s okay.” he softly spoke. “We’ve all been through things, we sure aren’t going to think any differently of ya now. We’ll always owe you, our lovely little saviour”. 

His breath felt so warm on your face and neck, his voice sending waves of calm over your stressed mind. Without thinking you turned, using one hand to pull his head towards yours, kissing him on the lips. As you kissed him, Charles slowly moved one hand to the back of your neck, sliding his fingers up to grip your hair. You moved away slightly to catch your breath, then pushed forwards toward him again. However, this time, your movement was restricted; Charles’ grip on the back of your head was gentle but firm. 

“While I’m flattered, sweetheart, I don’t think it’s me you really want to be doing this to.” His voice was kind, with no hint of scorn or malice. As you looked up into his big brown eyes you knew he was right; you leaned back slightly and he slowly slid his hand out from your hair, bringing it to rest on your arm. 

“Oh god, sorry Charles. I didn’t mean to….” you could already feel the tears once again welling up as the embarrassment washed over you. 

“S’okay” he smiled, moving his hand up to rest on your cheek, lifting your face to look at him properly. “Ain’t nothing wrong with needing a bit of safety, a bit of attention”. 

“You’re a good friend Charles.” 

“I know” he chuckled. He stood, pulling you up with him, making sure to only tug on your uninjured arm. “Come on, let’s go warm up by the fire. I’m pretty sure I heard Sean complaining about his neck again; would love to see you one-up him a bit”. You were surprised at the quiet laugh that came from your throat. This strange group sure did manage to cheer you up quickly; it was a welcome change from the weeks of self-induced misery you’d suffer if you were by yourself again. You took the arm that Charles kindly offered and started strolling back to camp. 

 —-

Arthur could barely catch his breath as his horse galloped off over the plain. It couldn’t be…surely not…. He was abruptly snapped from his thoughts as the horse stumbled slightly. Pulling back on the reins, he urged it to come to a stop. Sliding off the saddle, he didn’t make it two steps before a sudden wave of nausea hit him. All alone, out in the open plane, Arthur vomited into a bush. 

When he was finished, Arthur stumbled a few more steps before ungainly collapsing on his back on the floor. Staring up at the sky, he tried to shake the image burned into his mind. When he’d first realised it was you stood in the centre of the tent, half undressed, he’d instantly become equally excited and embarrassed. At first he hadn’t noticed the silvery threads twisting their way across your back; all he could think about was touching your soft skin, wrapping his arms around you, replacing your hand across your breast with his….. 

But then he’d noticed the scars. Especially the two largest welts, forming an almost perfect ‘Y’ shape on your back. That’s when he’d stepped forwards, exclaiming to the group. He’d been so fucking rude, he chastised himself. It wasn’t what he’d meant to say; he’d just been so shocked to see that pattern again. As he’d desperately ridden out of camp, running away from the angry voices, he’d tried to convince himself he was wrong. It was just coincidence, had to be. 

As he lay in the dark, looking up at the stars, he twisted the leather of his gun belt in his hands nervously. You couldn’t be the same person. He shut his eyes, trying to visualise your face, hear your laugh, remember the smell of your hair….but the visions in his head kept on being replaced with flashes of the woman beside the road. The wounds on her back a mix of scars and fresh, angry red welts. The tattered cloth revealing a distinct pattern. The little cry as he’d urged his horse on past her, spooked by the movement just behind in the trees. The scream he’d tried to convince himself he hadn’t heard as he’d slowed to a walk further up the road…..

—-----

The rest of the evening had been surprisingly enjoyable. The group had essentially spent it trauma bonding, discussing various injuries and unpleasant situations. For a famous outlaw gang, this bunch sure got captured a lot. The girls had done their best to cheer you up about Arthur, alternating between describing how they were going to kick his ass for being so impolite and describing how sweet and kind he is, that he wouldn’t have meant it like that. You knew they were trying to be reassuring, but they didn’t understand how much it hurt to have that one pleasant dream, a glorious possibility, shattered so dramatically. 

So desperate you were to steer clear of further pain that you were almost grateful Arthur was clearly avoiding you. He’d taken close to two days to skulk back into camp, immediately beelining for Hosea. Hosea had obviously started to try and kindly mock the man, but his expression had quickly turned serious as he pulled Arthur into his tent to have a discussion. You’d ignored it, returned to your chores, anything to keep your mind busy. Later on, Karen and Mary-Beth were debating what Hosea could have possibly meant by the ‘clear your conscience’ he loudly exclaimed to Arthur as the latter stormed off. 

A week or so later Sean once again sidled up to you. “Hey Y/N, about that ride” he grinned. “How’d you fancy accompanying me and Lenny into town? There’s rumor a few new fellas have rolled in. We’re hopin’ they might have more money than sense!” 

“Thanks Sean, but I still ain’t going to be much use. I can just about do a couple of shots of the revolver, but holding a rifle still ain’t possible.” You smiled back at Sean; it really was kind of him to ask. As much as he liked to play the loud mouth, you’d seen the way he cared for people; bringing back small trinkets, helping Karen fold the laundry when he thought none of the other men were around. 

“No bother missy. No shootin’ required.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, gesturing you to lean in. “I’ll level with ya. We…. are actually planning on mostly doin’ some drinking.” You looked up into his face, that big cheshire cat grin plastered all over it, and laughed. “Sure Sean, now you’ve got my attention.” 

“Excellent!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together, quickly looking round as he straightened up. 

“Stop worrying Sean. Arthur ain’t anywhere nearby.” You reassured him. You wished he was; not to stop you, you more than wanted to go, but you just needed to have him speak to you, argue with you, anything. You turned and waved at Lenny, already waiting by the horses, and started to stroll over.

—     

Arthur was a few miles outside camp, hunting with Charles. It was not going particularly well; he kept on making minor errors, stepping on twigs, alerting the deer before he could get close enough. On top of that, Charles kept trying to talk to him. 

“You have to talk to her.” There Charles went again, trying to give advice where it was not wanted. Arthur wished he hadn’t spoken to Hosea, told him the story of the woman in the woods. When Arthur had refused to listen to him, Hosea and gone and shared with Charles, to see if his old friend would have more success. 

“I. can’t.” Arthur growled through gritted teeth. Frustrated, he threw his rifle on the ground and sunk to his knees. Charles watched as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the ground, head in his hands. Arthur’s fists gripped his own hair so tightly Charles thought he might pull it out. Charles slowly walked over, placing one hand on Arthur’s back. 

“You didn’t know. Anyone else would have done the same.” Arthur grunted and tried to shake his hand off, but Charles did not move. “It’s in the past Arthur, far behind the both of you. She knows who you are; she’ll forgive you.” 

Arthur stayed silent, trapped in his own thoughts. Of course he wanted to talk to you, to apologise, to take you in his arms and promise to never let anything harm you again. But how could he start that conversation? Oh yeh, by the way, that time you almost escaped, after which you undoubtedly had months of horrible suffering, I could have stopped that, except I was too busy looking after myself. Unlike you, who took on three men to rescue a complete stranger that was clearly up to no good. And what if Charles and Hosea were wrong? What if you didn’t forgive him, couldn’t look at him, god forbid even left? Arthur couldn’t bear to even consider the possibility of never seeing you again. He’d far rather be miserable, keep an eye from a distance, then risk you not being around at all. 

—-

Leaning on the saloon bar, you smiled as you surveyed the scene in front of you. There was Lenny, immersed in a game of blackjack, doing surprisingly well given the number of drinks you three had had. Sean was being his usually flirty self, seeing if any of the saloon girls were willing to give him a freebie. This was your first time being properly away from camp since you arrived, and the little taste of freedom was helping you adjust to the new normal. As you turned to the barman to order another whisky, you saw out of the corner of your eye Sean sashaying up to a rather well dressed woman that had recently entered the saloon. 

In your drunken state, you’d initially wondered if you’d put your glass back down on the bar too hard when the was a large crash at the same time. The commotion behind you, however, alerted you to the fact that while the noise was not your fault, it was very much your problem. 

You winced as Sean’s head hit the floor as he slid backwards off the broken table. 

“My WIFE is not interested in ANY ‘quick get-to-know-ya’ in the stables, let alone with an Irish maggot like you!” the man standing over Sean roared. Sean propped himself up on his elbows, wiping the blood from his nose with one hand, before quipping back. “Fine, if you insist, I’m more than happy to oblige with a longer how’d ya do.” This response unsurprisingly did nothing to quell the man’s rage, and he launched himself forwards once more. Luckily for Sean, Lenny’s fist found its mark before the man could reach him. 

“Crap” you muttered, quickly tossing some money on the bar. “There’s extra there for the stool” you shouted back as you ran towards the fight. With a neat pirouette, you slammed the wooden seat into the man as he stumbled backwards, reeling from Lenny’s punch. Sean had finally clambered to his feet and was about to re-join when you grabbed him and Lenny and forced them towards the door. 

“Run, fools, I ain’t leaving here with more injuries than I came in with!” If the lads were disappointed with the fight being over so quickly, they didn’t show it, instead running after you with nothing more than a few grunted objections. Laughing, looking back to make sure the boys were joining, you didn’t see the men in front of you until you collided. Noticing the golden star, you looked up just in time to see a pistol grip swinging towards your face.

—----

Arthur’s heart sank when he realised you were not around upon returning from the hunting trip. He’d tried to quietly ask Mary-Beth where you’d gone, only to be met with an indignant ‘what do you care Mr Morgan”. Defeated, he slunk back to his tent, sitting on his cot before swinging his legs up and lying down. You were fine, he tried to reassure himself. Perhaps if he got some sleep then you’d be back by the time he woke up. 

Arthur shut his eyes, thoughts going to that night around the campfire, your body cradled against his, the soft scent wafting up from your hair……

—----

The cold water shocked you awake. You grimaced as the shiver went up your spine and straight into your aching skull. Without looking, the yelps from the next cell told you that Lenny and Sean had been awoken with the same treatment. 

“Rise and shine” the deputy sneered. He stared at you, slowly dropping his gaze down over your wet shirt. His tongue darted out to lick his lips; the expression made you shudder. You quickly turned, looking for your jacket, only to realise it hadn’t made it to the jail with you. The sound of keys in a lock drew your attention back around. 

The sheriff was stood at the entrance of the boy’s cell, holding out his hand. 

“Pay the fine and yer free to go” he grunted. Lenny and Sean scrabbled through their pockets, hoping there were still sufficient dollars left in them. “At least we get somethin’ outta low life scum like you.” The sheriff seemed so bored, fed up with the continuous stream of drunk troublemakers. Even so, he was letting you three off rather lightly; no real threats or scorn, like he just wanted rid of you. 

The boys shoved whatever money they found in his hand and he stepped aside to let them out. Moving forwards, your fine already in your hand, you waited for him to open your cell door. You tried to pretend you couldn’t see the way the deputy was staring at you, one hand on the handle of his knife. Your stomach started to clench, a rotten feeling spreading; no need to panic, you reassured yourself, just the hangover. 

As the sheriff placed his hands on your cell door, his expression changed. Half grinning, half sneering, he spoke. 

“Oh no sweetheart. You can put your money away. Whores don’t pay their fines with cash.” You shut your eyes and took a deep breath in, trying to control the panic now surging inside. 

“No!” yelled Lenny, lunging towards the sheriff. His attempt to reach your cell was cut short by a sudden knee to the stomach courtesy of the deputy, and he instead crumpled in a heap on the floor. Sean went to pick him up, only to very slowly return to standing, with his arms raised, as the barrel of a pistol appeared under his chin. 

“Ah said, yer free to go” the sheriff growled, stepping towards the two men. His tone, as well as the deputy’s weapon, made it very clear that this was not just a suggestion. “Y’all will get your little slut back. We just need some…company”. 

Before the boys could do anything stupid, you spoke. “S’okay lads. It’ll be okay. You’ll just have to wait a bit, that’s all”. Your voice was soft, reassuring, an attempt to calm everyone in the room. You hoped the gloom of the cell was enough to prevent the boys from seeing the tear roll down your cheek, betraying the screaming you could hear inside your head. 

“Listen to the lady” the deputy spat as he unceremoniously shoved Lenny and Sean out the door. 

“Just hold on, Y/N!” Sean yelled as he stumbled out into the bright light of the street. The door was slammed behind him and he heard the sound of a bolt scratching along the wood before thudding into place. 

Stay calm. Just breathe. You’d not even moved from your spot in the centre of your cell, all your concentration being poured into not screaming. There’s only two of them you thought. Even without your weapons, if they got close enough, then maybe you had a chance. The deputy was young, and quick, but the sheriff had obviously spent far too much time behind a desk. All thoughts of potential escape were dashed as a third man entered the office through the back door. 

“Ah, you got our message then” the sheriff smiled, stepping forward to greet the new man with a handshake. This wasn’t a local lawmaker; he was dressed almost completely in black, save for the silver belt buckle and trim around his hat. You shuddered as you saw the two whips hanging from the side of his belt. 

“That I did.” His tone was low, flat, voice so icy cold. Without intending too, you moved backwards, trying to hide, until your back collided with the solid wall. “Y’all finally found a suitable…..subject for our little agreement?” 

“I reckon’ so” the deputy slurred. “Don’t matter if we break this one neither, ain’t from round here.” You slid down the wall into a crouch on the floor, hands on your head, face between your knees. You could already feel your mind starting to detach, whisking you away to another place; you barely heard the clink of the key in the lock and the creak of the cell door. 

—-------

Sean grabbed Lenny by the shoulders as he tried to throw himself towards the locked door. “Stop!” Sean yelled, pushing the fuming young man back. “We ain’t got no weapons ya dumb fuck.” Lenny’s hand went to his side, finding nothing. Their weapon belts were with yours, in a pile on the sheriff’s desk. 

“We’ve got to try!” Lenny shoved Sean again, lurching towards the door, succeeding only in falling to his knees. Breathing heavily, he turned, looking desperately for another option. Sean caught his gaze landing on the gunsmith opposite and grabbed Lenny’s collar before he could even move. 

“What’ya planning exactly?! Give us some weapons, or we’ll stare ya to death?!” Sean yelled in his face. “We ain’t no use to her dead laddy.” The loudness of his voice reduced, an attempt to calm the other man. “Ya know we need help. Let's just hope we can find him”. Lenny stared up at Sean, rage subsiding into the more useful determination. Without another word, both men started running down the street towards the place they hoped their horses were still hitched.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fic #rdr2 fic #angst

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

thank you for advocating for content creators in regards to the community labels! hoping things change soon 💗

Just doing my part in ensuring that everyone’s work doesn’t get completely destroyed and killed by these labels, my content included.

I’m glad that more and more people are realising what a bad feature these Labels are and that they do absolutely nothing but destroy creativity and moral for everyone on here.

I just hope people won’t give into this new shitty life of Tumblr… I certainly won’t. I hope people continue to be vocal about this until Tumblr actually makes some changes.

I understand that Tumblr can’t completely remove this feature due to Apple being so anti-p0rn. Although I sincerely hope this will change in the future.

BUT! I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. There ARE reasonable changes that Tumblr can make so it becomes easier and fun for us again to post our creations.

1. Change the default settings from “hide�� to “blur”. Then at least people can see that there is something there for them to view. Which then they can decide if they want to completely hide Mature Content or decide to show it all.

2. Ability to change settings in the iOS app. Making it easier for users to find them so they don’t have to go on the web.

3. Make regular pop-ups for all users over 18 that lets them know they can change their settings on how they want to view Mature Content.

4. And the last one, and definitely most important one! REMOVE THE ABILITY FOR OTHER USERS TO SUGGEST A COMMUNITY LABEL! There is 100% prof that people are going around abusing and weaponising this feature to screw over content creators.

I really hope Tumblr will start listening to us and that there will be changes made soon!

@staff @support @changes @wip @engineering

#i’ve got mail 💌 #community labels #please reblog and share this to spread it around so we can get more people to become vocal about this

[empresslesbiace]

Ok! So I thought this would be better as a separate post! This is a continuation of my AU for Descendants which is here:

(I’ve never linked posts before despite being on this website for literal years lmao so if this doesn’t work don’t judge me and I’m sorry!)

Anyways this is a reply to the question from @kelloggs4cereal about the other VKs! I have too much to say so,,, separate post!

Ok I know I said none of the VKs really know eachother or that they might belong to a group of other VKs who are treated like the heroes of their parents stories once were and while I think that’s still true I’d like to think that the main four are still a little group maybe? Maybe they have alliances apart from others because all 4 of them are actually really powerful people among the VKs of the isle.

Ok so Mal. First off,, I feel like we should definitely keep the whole “her name is maleficent but she isn’t allowed to use that name so she goes by Mal” because of the angst factor and the fact that that is def egotistic and abusive so it’s furthers the point that Auradon is shitty for leaving these kids here. But also, I think that isn’t her name maybe? Fae are particular about names. I don’t think Maleficent was even Maleficents real name in the first place. Maybe Mals name is something entirely different. Like Mallory or maybe even something completely apart from the “m” naming like Reyna or something idk.

I also feel like we need to elaborate on Mal being fae of some sort. Like I need the rules to apply here, she can’t lie, doesn’t like rudeness, names have power, etc etc. I also feel like she needs to have more inhuman features. I mean she can turn into a dragon cmon, she needs to have pointed ears, sharper teeth. I want her to look uncannily human. Yknow the whole that’s-not-a-deer? That. I want that for Mal. Idk if I want her to be a demigod with the whole Hades situation. I feel like we’re going into overpowered territory. But if she was, then the tragedy of Greek demigods looms over her. Most of them had a terrible fate? That’s always gonna loom over her. She’d be second oldest in the VK group.

There’s some fanfics that elaborate at least a little on the aspect of her being inhuman! A good one is this:

To elaborate on her appearance, I’d say her hair changes color sometimes but like,, extremely subtly. Her hair is blue one minute but looks sorta purple the next? It’s strange,, and no one can ever get a grasp of the color. Her teeth are sharper and her eyes are,, uncanny? It looks like her eyes are false. Like there’s something there she doesn’t want you to see. I feel like something similar would happen with Jane and the Fairy Godmother. (I can elaborate on those two if y’all want) Generally, I think Mal would be scary to be around because she’s Other. She dresses in clothes that no one knows the origin of. Almost like it’s from the fae realm? But no one knows how she got it. Words to describe Mal? Unsettling. Uncanny. Other.

Next would be Carlos. I know y’all think Carlos is the youngest! I say he’s not. 101 Dalmatians came out in 1961 so he’s second youngest cause I’m going with ages by when movies came out. Ok so I feel like there has to be a reason that Cruella is hanging around the others. Because doesn’t it confuse you? You’ve got The Evil Queen, OG Disney villain? Maleficent, terrifying dragon fae. Jafar tried to take over a kingdom with a political scheme. Cmon! Why is Cruella here? Yes, she skinned and killed Dalmatians. But compared to trying to take over a kingdom, cursing a baby and subsequently the future of a kingdom, and trying to poison and kill your stepchild and your only heir,,, that doesn’t really track??

Now I was going to say she did something fucked up and skinned a human,,, and that’s why she hangs with the big dogs. But on the other hand,, what if she didn’t? What if she killed dogs and that wasn’t enough to get her in the group so now she’s one of the lesser villains. What if Cruella doesn’t hang out with any of the big villains? So now we have Carlos who somehow ended up with the VKs, children of terrifying villains who are terrifying themselves and made a alliance group thing. Why is he with them?

I say Carlos is a genius inventor type. He’s known for his inventions and metal making. He can make traps like no other. Years of studying traps after his mother locks him in the closets with all her traps and shit. He’s made traps that have caught some of the strongest on the isle. He’s damn good at it. Got a whole ass business that he runs with Jay (we’ll get to that soon) but anyways, he’s smart. Smart af. This gets him on the radar of Mal, Evie, and Jay. That’s how he gets to be part of the group.

Now for his looks, I say he’s pretty similar to how he is in the movies. Except I think he’d wear more black and dirtied white and less red. I think the red would be from bloodstains. I think maybe there’s some animals on the isle, or there were, and Cruella killed them all and made a market on the skins with someone else working with the meat (or that she has a market and her place has loads of animals she breeds for their leather and stuff) so a lot of Carlos outfit is real leather and dyed black because Cruella is worried about the looks of their business (black is known for sleekness and professionalism and also we can’t forget that the isle gets scraps so some scraps are worked in as well)

His hands would be calloused and scarred from working with hot metals and skinning animals for his mothers business all day. He’s good with knives because that’s what he uses to skin animals and good with tools because he uses that for his own trap making business. He’s smart, he’s an inventor, and he’s damn powerful on the isle.

The youngest is Jay. Now I say his real name isn’t Jay. Take in mind, the Aladdin story is Arabic as far as I’m aware. I don’t know much about the culture. I also don’t fully know all of the cultures that the story of Aladdin is based on. There’s a lot of influences from China and Middle Eastern countries in the original story I’m pretty sure? Idk. I’m not the person to go to about culture perspectives on the story, so I’m not gonna say much. I just think there should be more in the story about culture, especially with Jay. Maybe his real name is something like Jabr? Idk. Like I said, no clue on culture but I feel like it should definitely be a influence on his design, especially his outfit.

Red and black would be major two colors. I read that traditional Syrian and Jordanian clothing was red and black and I also know that Jafars original Disney design is definitely red and black so that’s what we’re going with. Idk about culture, so if any of this is wrong I sincerely apologize. This is all what I’m getting from Google and we all know Google can be wrong a lot. I cant say much on Jays outfit tbh. It would definitely be better suited to someone who knows more on the culture and can design something light and airy that can be suited for parkour (I definitely think Jay is good at that so his clothing would be light) while also being true to his culture.

Now I like the concept of Jay actually being Aladdin and Jasmines son and not Jafars. That Jafar stole him from them as some sort of last huzzah against Aladdin and Jasmine when he got sent to the isle. This fic goes over the concept perfectly and is honestly my favorite fic in the fandom:

Anyways, I like the thought that Jay is still a bit of a street rat and he steals things but I don’t think Jafar has a shop or that Jay learned to steal from Jafar. Jafar wasn’t a thief, Aladdin was. Jafar was a political mastermind in the 1992 movie. He was plotting to take control of a kingdom within and he used magic to do it! He had that staff and all that. I’m fairly sure he was some sort of sorcerer. At the end of the first movie, he was turned into a genie and then trapped within the bottle and the rules of being a genie. I feel like if Jay is Jafars biological son, that would affect him. He’d be slightly Other as well. But if he wasn’t, then he wouldn’t be. But he would still learn politics from Jafar. Jay would 100% be a business savy dude.

This goes into the business he has with Carlos. Carlos sells the traps and Jay helps him run the whole business and is a mastermind on the isle. He runs deals with everyone, including the pirate crew and some of the top villains and VKs of the isle. He gives me Cassim (from Aladdin 3) vibes. Cassim obviously knew how to run a group (he was the king of thieves for a reason yall that title was earned) I say he runs a thieving group on the side.

He’s got long hair, definitely. He keeps it out of his eyes with a ribbon or something maybe, we’ll see. Scars on his face from scuffles he gets in (any scuffles he can’t win with his silver tongue at least) You can’t trust him, ever. He’ll either steal from you outright (and you won’t notice) or he’ll manipulate you into giving him your items for a deal that later proves to mean nothing. He’s dangerous and sly and a business man to his core.

I feel like all the VKs are not heroes nor are they villains. The world isn’t black and white but Auradon makes is out to be and the villains fall into that same trap. All the VKs are sorts morally grey? I feel like Evie is the nicest but she’s also the most ruthless when she feels her justice is deserved. Mal is Other and Strange and her rules are different than a humans rules would be. She hates rudeness and can’t lie but knows loopholes and tricks like no one else. Carlos knows how to invent terrifying traps and can use a knife really well. Jay is a sly business man who can and will trick you out of hearth and home if given the chance. They’re all dangerous, and that’s what makes them the most powerful VKs on the isle (followed closely by the pirate ship gang, albeit idk much about them in canon but I can elaborate on some ideas for them if y’all want.)

#Mal #descendants #evie #Jay #Jafar #Disney #maleficent #villains #fae #fae folk #evil queen #queen grimhilde #Cruella de vil #Cruella #tw dog death #for those of you who don’t like Cruella and her story #that’s yo warning lol #au #descendants au #alternate universe #fanfic #fanfiction #Carlos de vil #Carlos #disneys descendants #ao3 #archive of our own

[doofazoid100]

would you mind going into details abt the differences in the arc?? it sounds cool and i haven’t read the manga, if you don’t i’ll just search it up np:)) thx

Was going to make a post about this later but for this ask I’ll post it now! I’m not going to go incredibly in detail, and I may not list everything!

⚠️ mogami arc spoilers

⚠️ cw for suicide, animal cruelty, abuse, and dismemberment

!reminder that manga panels are read from right to left/top to bottom!

-------------------------

Anime: We dont know any information prior to Minori's first appearance. The first time we see her is in the bed behind the glass.

Manga: Some footage of Minori before she was possessed is shown, it introduces her bratty and spoiled attitude. We then see Minori in the bed behind the glass.

Not sure why they didn’t add this, it would have more clearly established Minori’s character and would have given context for her actions in the fake reality.

-------------------------

Anime: We're not told how Mogami died, just that he disappeared from the public eye and he reveals later himself that he died.

Manga: Mogami ran off into the woods during a live broadcast show and was found hanging. We find out later that this was intentional so he’d become an evil spirit.

I get why a scene like this wouldn’t make it in, and nothing too big is lost from not having it in the anime.

-------------------------

Anime: Minori says that the cat is better off dead then says she’ll take it to a shelter. Mob tries to interfere and gets beat up. (Right before he’s awaked by negative emotions)

Manga: Minori's lackeys beat the cat to death in front of Mob. (The scene where he’s beat up and is awaked by negative emotions doesn’t happen till later.)

This is the scene I wish was adapted into the anime the most. It’s sick and twisted, but makes Mob’s snapping point much much more understandable.

-------------------------

Anime: Goes straight from Minori begging for forgiveness to her lackey hitting Mob's head with a cinder block.

Manga: Minori takes out a pocket knife and stabs Mob in the stomach. (Was supposed to be in the scene mentioned above)

-------------------------

Anime: Minori meekly threatens Mob that her Dad's bodygaurds will beat him up. Mob says, "So what?"

Manga: Minori meekly threatens Mob that she'll get her Dad make sure Mob will never get a job. Mob says, "So what?"

Mob’s “So what?” comment has a lot more meaning in the context that he doesn’t care about a job or a good future. This much more out of character than him not being scared of physical threats, and shows he’s truly out of the loop.

-------------------------

Anime: During his fight with the spirits, Mob gets defeated, and we see ???%, very straightforward.

Manga: The spirits bite and tear Mob limb from limb. This is what "shatters his vessel" and reveals ???%

Again, this probably wasn’t adapted due to censorship but this arc is supposed to feature some of the darkest stuff in the series, sucks it wasn’t added in.

-------------------------

Some other notes:

- The scene with the most differences is the fight between Mob and Mogami/Evil Spirits.

- The violence in this arc is watered down in the anime.

- Despite its differences compared to the manga, the episode is really one of the best of the series. It’s THE “Mob Psycho 100″ episode.

- The manga featured a lot more scenes of Mob being bullied and abused in the fake reality:

-------------------------

All in all I definitely recommend you read the manga if you've only seen the anime!! It's the source material and as such you get a better understanding of the story and messages and junk.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #discussion #mogami arc

[blorbologist]

NOT COVID! 7, 11, 24, 26, 30, 36, 48, 49! may they ward off the sickness

OHGOD, buckling up! AAaAA

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

I’ve got snippets of lore for Yasha’s tribe scattered throughout my ‘Yasha and friends featuring flower symbolism and such’ fic - I’ll need to read her comic before writing any more, but the tidbits of weird Ashley has given us paired with the environment we’d briefly seen are so much fun to work with and expand upon.

(I. Also have a fuckton of cool battle cats lore. Because it’s fun dunking on these lame authors and making shit Make Sense and Be Interesting and Fatal eggs me on.)

11. Are you partial to a certain character/pairing or are you more equal-opportunity? If you are partial to any character/pairing, why do you think that is?

Definitely not equal-opportunity - I have a few notable favs, a fair few ‘eh I could swing that’ and a lot of no-gos. I think my favs do share some common elements, though: a little bit of broken people, with shards poking out their hearts, and a lot of devotion regardless of this, of the ugliness, of the blood. I also love the potential for things to be monstrous underneath, or to turn terrible should something happen, a fall from grace, corruption. 

24. Are there any easter eggs in [insert fic], and if so, what are they?

NTRKJHTR UHHH for any fic? (ok that’s My Bad for not including a specific fic when I sent you the ask vjvjvjvjvj) In One for sorrow, at one point I describe Vax descending the stairs like my brother does. Which is a stupidly loud ba-dunk ba-dunk ba-dunk letting his weight crash into the next step that’s absolutely out of character for a rogue but it matters to Me and Vax can be obvious when he wants to be.

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

See my gut instinct is to say ‘no dialogue’ which should be a sign that ‘only dialogue’ would be a good challenge, so! Let’s go with that :D

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

Yes! Recently! Baby’s first smut fic! My close buds can tell you I Agonized over it for a few days, I was so nervous I’d write it Wrong or Stupid. It’s got a lil vulnerability, bc you automatically assume the author’s into whatever they’re writing, right? And because it wasn’t a completely healthy sex scene either… I was Terrified. But! I survived, people were happy with it, I am happy with it, and now I can confidently say I can write The Horny and will write More Horny in the future!

36. Do you visualize what you read/write?

Oh yes, constantly fkgnkrtgn

48. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

Dispelling the shadows by @pagerunner-j! I absolutely recommend it - Vex and Percy perhaps omitted a little too much about the castle’s past, which means things go sour when Vesper starts seeing things. Love the characterization of the de Rolo brood, the real family dynamics and conflicts, just! Good vibes! Also completely fucking terrifying at one point, I was expecting a sad little ghost hunt, not that! 

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it!

Two for joy! The irony is that I wrote this In my writing doc so I can just scroll up to grab a lil snippet:

“I’m sorry.” Kynan laughs - it’s an abused sound, the whine of a kicked dog. “Not too sure if I should take that as ‘sorry for the shitty dad’ or ‘sorry he’s dead’.” A beat. “Not even sure if I’m - I always wanted him to be dead. I thought - I thought if ever he took a hand to me, again, I could blow it clean off with these.” He waves the pistol around. Vex sees fingers flying. Hears a young man scream. The one on the other end of the gun, not the one firing. Kynan seems to spy the look through his tears and holsters the thing. “Now I’m - I’m sad he might be gone.” The cry of a gull does not startle him. “Is that fucked up?”

(Send me an ask!)

#critical role #ask game #fic rec #there's so much going on here what do i tag everything as KJNETKGJRKTN #vex is the raven queen's champion au

[thygoddessouijathicc]

What is Patchwork Heart?

I’m replacing my pinned post with a new one I like better that hits a lot of the same points.

Patchwork Heart is currently my largest individual writing project.

At this point in development it’s a story with 4 main protagonists in two separate narratives that will come together later, the most major of these characters being Sapphire Valiant.

The story largely features monsters in the Sapphire half, and a mix of monsters and humans in the only narrative which follows the obsessive monster hunter Sabrina Oak.

The general plot of the two stories is Sapphire and the monster storyline’s other protagonist Faria Nightingale trying to survive humans as well as the environment to a degree with a group of other monsters, all while the two try to figure out what they are, as all the creatures are different unknown species. They are also frequently put at the mercy of larger than life adversaries seemingly working towards a bigger cause which seem to house at least some of this information.

For the Sabrina half of the story we follow Sabrina and her best friend Kim-Ly as they chase down monsters and try to find Sabrina’s missing older sister Sierra who has been missing since the girls were 8 and is presumed dead. Sabrina has dedicated her life to this quest, not letting herself have any “distractions”, Kim-Ly sticks around not because she believes Sierra is alive but because she knows she’s not and is trying to pull Sabrina out of her psychotic delusion.

The story has adult themes with large amounts of gore, violence, existentialism, occasional sexual themes (although never intensely), body horror, strong language as well as references to trafficking and abuse (in this world monsters are frequently trafficked to be sold off as pets, home defence, and other purposes).

Patchwork Heart is a LGBTQ+ story with many of the characters: Including Sapphire, Faria, Zero, and Infinity all being part of the community with Sapphire being a lesbian, Faria being bisexual, Zero Pansexual, and Infinity GayAce. However I do believe the story will hopefully be enjoyable for viewers who are not LGBTQ+ as well as those who are.

It’s most definitely not for everyone due to all of the themes mentioned.

This story is inspired in part by series such as Helluva Boss, Hazbin Hotel, and Murder Drones.

Patchwork Heart is a story that I will be putting a lot of care and love into and I hope some people will like it.

To get into technical stuff Patchwork Heart is a heavily plot driven story with a lot of lore behind it that currently I am the sole writer and artist for, however if you are at all interested in joining the project please contact me as I feel having a team would help with not only speeding up the project and making it generally better, but also getting different perspectives could help me with ideas for the story.

Art wise I currently do not have very much technical skill however I promise in the future you will likely be getting a pilot.

Patchwork Heart at this point is going to be a comic written like a TV show with 24 episode seasons, all of these seasons except the first having their own main antagonist for the characters to face.

This is an anti-proshipper project as I do not tolerate that kind of thing.

While this series might at SOME point have a price, the first season will be free and the later seasons will not be overly expensive because I don’t like the idea of restricting art or selling out, the only reason I feel I should have a price at all is because I feel like if I bring other people onto the team they would need to be paid, it’s really a passion project for me.

Patchwork Heart is in early development still and will take a very long time to reach completion.

Updates will be on this thread so check back occasionally.

#Patchwork Heart #original writing #web comics #adult comedy #original story #original characters #original content #lgbt fiction #lgbtq #i hope you’re interested

[lutawolf]

Hi Luta!

It’s me, the one who asked the question about Payu loving Rain last week. I’m thinking on referring myself from now on as Anonymous-Shy or Vanilla Anonymous when I sent you a message, LOL.

Some people ask:

Why don’t I use my account to send you a question like I normally do? Because I’m I want to be able to ask freely without being judged from close-minded people from my side. And why do I care if I’m asking anonymously? Well, because for me it’s all about what I put out there and you knowing me or not doesn’t make a difference. But I like you knowing it’s me, a vanilla follower asking.

I re-watched Love in The Air from a different point of view and now things make more sense; it’s like I’m watching a different show and I enjoy it even more. I like to binge watch on shows so I’m thinking to continue watching on episode 8 when PrapaiSky story starts but I might not be able to make it because of my curiosity. My favoritism in PrapaiSky is all coming from the trailer and teasers; I LOVE Prapai way of flirting and that smile of his make anyone day. And Sky past love life is a mystery for me since I couldn’t find Love Sky novel in English.

And yes, if I’m something I’m definitely a soft submissive. 

I’m reaching out today to ask for your favorite BL shows if you don’t mind telling me. The first BL show I watched was KinnPorsche and I loved it. I liked KimPorchay but didn’t like how they ended because I hate open-endings unless I know there’s a future season. There's one or two other things but I won’t get into it because as previously stated you don’t take sexual assault questions and I respect that. Then I tried to find the 3rd one to binge-watch and that was Unforgotten Night which I just couldn’t get into it at all. If you want to know how I feel about it, well the later ask on your blog about the show cover it. I’m told all the time that I have to give a show more time, but if a show doesn’t catch me in the first 3 episodes it just losses me.

Thanks and if you’re able to watch, enjoy Love In the Air today.

Hey shy nonnie!!!

I'm glad you decided to come back. Most subs feel more comfortable being anon. It's why I keep the feature even though I get hate mail that way. I can understand why people use it. I'm a very blunt and forward person but I get it.

I'm glad you are starting to enjoy the show! I love binge watching shows too. I'm waiting on Eclipse and few others. I couldn't wait on this one though. Same with Not Me and Kinnporshe. I'm really excited about Prapai and Sky, though be prepared for just as much No Kink. Sky is very much a gay boy and yes Rain knows. He knows about the ex as well and the ex was very abusive.

Okay so verbiage can be different in the kink community. The term soft is one of them. When I say soft D/s, I'm saying that the couple or person wouldn't include themselves as kinkster but has tendencies. In which case, yeah, you now come off as a soft sub. You didn't in the first ask but in the second and now third, yes. Had you not said vanilla, I would have labeled you sub in my head and proceeded to treat you as such.

Yeah sorry about the SA. I'm a SA survivor with PTSD and IIH. When triggered I will have brutal anxiety attacks that have been known to effect my heart. The panic attacks are a fight or flight reaction which can usually be handled by going to a safe space and breathing through. I've walked many a survivor through it. I on the other hand, with the IIH am weird, my body thinks we're in a medical emergency. Generally speaking, talking about being a survivor doesn't bother me, mentoring others and hearing their story while disheartening doesn't bother me. It's the surprise aspect of it that triggers me. Which you can't get away from when it's done in an Ask.

As for my favorite BLs, I'm all over the place.

Here is my watch list on Drama List. Kinnporsche absolutely makes my top along with Not Me and Long Time No See but then I'll cascade into softer stuff like Blueming, History: Making the Days Count (warning do not go past the rooftop make out scene, stop there and watch alternate ending on youtube. It's produced by a Japanese director and is a much better ending.) I fucking love Nitiman and Mr. Unlucky. Nope, I can't choose, lol. You can see what I like from the star reviews though. Hope you find this helpful.

Thank you so much! I really enjoyed last nights episode! Hope you find something you like!!!

[neonacity]

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.6

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

NOTE:This is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age, drugs, slight smut for this chapter but nothing graphic, questionable consent (?) I guess? Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

“EVERYONE HAS A DARKER NATURE. EVERYONE. GOOD MEN FEAR IT, AND EVIL MEN EMBRACE IT.” - JAMES ISLINGTON

The silent hum of the air conditioning filled the space like a foreboding chant. Nothing else but the sound of the hospital machinery and random noises outside pierced the stillness of the room as you stared, unseeing, at the green and orange numbers that blinked on the monitor above the bed. 

You barely have any recollection of how you managed to find yourself in the hospital, but you do remember brief memories of Taeyong picking you up from the floor you found yourself crumpled on after you got the call. You remember seeing Jaehyun's parents at a brightly lit corridor and his mother pulling you into a hug as she broke down and his father telling you how his son hasn't woken up since he was brought to the emergency room.

You remember your heart breaking in shock, mind too numb from the godforsaken pills you have been taking and your own injury. So many times you wondered to yourself if you were still caught in one of your nightmares, but every time you tried to break free from it, you're slapped back with the reality of how all of this is real.

Your fingers gently tightened on Jaehyun's hands now as your gaze landed on his face. He looked so peaceful, like he's just sleeping, that you almost wanted to bend over and try to kiss him awake. You don't even have any idea what time and day it is already, but you have barely left his side since you were brought to him. The nightmares and sleeplessness? They're barely a problem for you anymore because right now, you're entirely not resting at all unless your body forces you to crash from physical exhaustion. Even then, you usually only sleep for about two to three hours at best to make sure that you never miss a moment with your fiance.

"Severe traumatic head injury. He was lucky enough that the airbag shielded him from the worst of the impact."

The words of his attending doctor echoed in your head again like a faraway voice. You could only remember bits and pieces of what he said to his parents back then as he reported his findings, but you caught enough context for you to draw a picture of the situation. You remember Jaehyun's mother asking the chances of her son waking up again, her voice barely holding up from her emotions. 

"I cannot promise anything, Ma'm. I'd say he has a 60 percent chance. He's fighting."

And he is. You know Jaehyun inside out. He might be unconscious now, but there is no way he is giving up. Not from something like this. 

"Keep fighting baby…" you whispered in the stillness of the room as you lifted his hand gently to your lips to kiss. "I'll wait for you. We still have a wedding to do."

The slight creaking of the door barely made you look away from his sleeping face. You only did at the gentle sound of a throat clearing, your eyes slightly widening as you recognized the man who just walked inside the room. Taeil had the same mildly shocked look on him as he stopped on the  other side of the bed across from you. 

"You…"

"Are you a relative of the patient?" He asked now as he tucked his clipboard under his arm. You simply nodded, watching him quickly glance at the numbers on the monitor before his eyes settled on you again.

"I'm his fiancee."

That made him raise his brows slightly. He pulled a pen now from the pocket of his coat to quickly write something on his file. "What a coincidence. Not a good one obviously. I'm sorry to hear about him. Mr. Jung, right?"

You swallowed. You didn't want to acknowledge anything that he just said so you tried to divert the conversation instead.

"You're not his doctor. Why are you…"

"Oh. He was turned over to me today. I am one of the resident neurologists here but he had to be moved to me because his first doctor has too much in his plate already. Don't worry, I was briefed properly about his case."

Your gaze followed Taeil as he bent over to check Jaehyun's oxygen level as well as the other wires attached to him. You don't know what to feel about him taking over, but at least you already know him previously.

"Are there any changes? Positive ones?" You asked in a frail voice that Taeil definitely didn't miss. You told yourself to not act silly and ask questions that probably do not have answers yet, but you couldn't help yourself now. The man seemed to think over his words first, noticing your state, before calmly giving his reply.

"No particular ones, but the fact that there are no negative developments is… something. I will have to request for some tests to be done on him again tomorrow so we can see if there are positive changes in his brain."

Neutral. Not good, but at least it's not bad either.

"How are you? I was about to check on you again. Is your head okay?"

You were still thinking over his words that you barely caught his question. Looking up, you tried to scramble for an answer to give. To be honest, you haven't given proper attention to your own injury since this happened. You would even only remember to take your medications on your clearest, less anxious moments, which, honestly, isn’t a lot. 

"I'm uh… the wound has closed. But the headaches. They're still there."

He simply nodded. "Any other side effects?"

You didn't immediately answer. You didn't want to sound whiny, but it's not like you're going to lose anything by telling him the uglier parts of your recovery. You swallowed to try and dislodge the slight blockage in your throat.

"Nightmares…" you said now, voice soft. You briefly remembered the last one you had back in the manor before you woke up to the bad news and you felt your stomach turn again. "Lots of them. Hallucinations sometimes…"

The doctor watched you carefully and you know he is trying to compute things in his mind despite his face remaining calm.

"Have you been keeping to your schedule with your medications? Are you taking too much?"

You firmly shook your head no to his last question.

"No, I haven't been overdosing. But… I've been skipping my pills the last few days because of...because of this."

"How have you been feeling since you started missing your dosages then? Do you remember?"

That made you actually stop and think about it for a moment. Now that you are paying attention, you did notice how the nightmares have calmed down slightly. Even the hallucinations are almost gone. You frowned slightly to yourself.

"A bit… better actually."

Taeil took his time to observe you a bit more before writing something on a new page of his clipboard.

"You must have had severe reactions to the mixture of pills I gave you. I'm going to prescribe you new ones and ask the nurses to pick them up and bring them to you here. Can you promise that you'll try and take them though? You really need them to fully heal."

You nodded and gave him a slightly sheepish look.

"I will, thank you very much."

Taeil dug his hands into the pockets of his coat and gave you a gentle smile.

"Well, that's it for today. I'll come back tomorrow to give you updates about Mr. Jung." He had already turned and started walking away when he suddenly stopped to look at you again.

"Oh, and another thing. Please try and get some sleep. Recover… and then focus on helping your fiance."

******* You didn't really know what woke you up. Stirring from your sleep, the first thing that registered to you was the sound of distant traffic mixed with the gentle chirping of the morning birds from outside the window. A warm feeling radiated on your cheek and made the back of your eyelids glow red.

You flickered your eyes open and immediately rolled away to escape the ray of sunshine that slipped from the open curtains and shone directly at your face. You easily evaded it as you moved over to the other side of the bed which was empty and cold from the night before.

That was when you finally remembered that you were back in your home, in the same bedroom you share with Jaehyun. The day before, his mother offered to take the responsibility of watching over him so there was a sudden change of plans that finally gave you the reason to check back into your apartment after so long. If it were you, you would have preferred not leaving your boyfriend’s side until he wakes up, but you also knew that your future mother-in-law wanted to spend time with him so you relented. 

Of course you weren't thrilled to be home alone, especially with Jaehyun not being there, but the comfort that a real mattress provided—over the small couch you used to sleep in back at the hospital—is definitely a welcome change for your body. You even tried to take your medicine properly, the new ones that Taeil had provided, in the hopes of getting knocked down fast. Your adrenaline and anxiety had been fueling you in the past days, but you know from the way your heart thumped and your hands shook that you need a solid rest.

And you got it. You still feel a little groggy now but your body is definitely lighter and your head clearer. The nightmares didn't even come, and while they were replaced by total darkness or dreams in white that still made you anxious, you are willing to take those anytime over the graphic ones that you used to have.

You gently sat back against the headrest of the bed now and reached out for your phone to check the time. It's barely 7AM but as expected, Jaehyun's mom has already provided you with updates from the hospital. He’ll have some tests taken today as Taeil advised and then they’ll hear more about his progress. From the looks of it, she seems still set on watching over her son, which means you still have at least today free to yourself.

You quickly typed a reply to her and sighed. You’re thankful that even though you weren’t related by blood, his parents have always treated you as if you were their own. Having a family is not something you’ve really experienced in your childhood, so that’s something you’ve always appreciated about them. That is also the reason why you wish for the best out of this situation, because you also couldn’t bear seeing your fiance’s mother and father heartbroken. He’s their only son, after all.

A quick look around your room left you feeling empty. The last week has been so hard that it felt longer and now you’re struggling to find your normal pace again. In an effort to bring yourself to focus, you decided to pick up your phone once more and started flipping through your calendar to check your schedule. It didn’t take long for you to frown when you realized the upcoming dates there. You’ve plotted important academic schedules in advance and one quick look at it told you how much you’ve obviously missed in the past week. You’ve been so lost in the mess of everything that has happened that you’ve entirely forgotten about your job at the manor. You realized that they didn’t even call you once to ask about your absence, probably because they also know about the situation, but even that is not enough excuse for you to entirely fall off the radar.  

Biting your lip, you quickly scrolled through your contacts now to look for the number you need. Your thumb hovered over the call button momentarily, but you eventually pressed it anyway. Your eyes wandered towards the clock on the wall, hoping silently to yourself that it wasn’t too early for you to call.

“Rosewood Manor, how can I help you?”

You straightened on your seat.

“Hey, Taeyong. It’s me. Sorry if I called so early.”

The other boy seemed to have been taken slightly by surprise by the way he fell silent at the other end of the line. You tapped your finger against your knee, waiting for him to speak again.

“Hi. No, it’s fine. Work started for me about an hour ago. Are you okay? How’s things on your end?”

You nibbled guiltily on your lower lip and finally got off your bed to walk over to the window. You pushed the curtains open and stared at the slight snowfall that had started falling on the ground. You’ve missed so many days of reporting to them but the first thing he does is to check if you’re fine.

“I um—things are still the same. My boyfriend’s still at the hospital.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Look, I want to apologize. I haven’t really reported to work and I didn’t even call about it. It’s just that—things have been so crazy lately, but still that isn’t an excuse for me to just not show up.”

Taeyong, however, was understanding as always. You were about to go off for another round of apologies when he gently cut you off. 

“Hey, it’s fine. We know you’ve been dealing with a lot lately so we also weren't expecting anything. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“But, the boys’ examinations and portfolio review is happening in three days and I haven’t really checked in with them. How are they doing now?”

“Oh...that. Well, we actually tried looking for a temporary tutor to help out but I...uh… I think he isn't really cutting it. Maybe because he isn’t the one who started the program with them. But he’s a big help still.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that. I should have at least—look, I can drop by today and just try to fix things.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. Don’t you need to be at the hospital?”

You started going around your room now, trying to gather the scattered papers and files that you’ll need. It’s a good thing you woke up early so you still have time to prepare for work. “My boyfriend’s mother is the one watching over him today so I have the day off.”

“And your injury? How is it?”

Your eyes landed on the new bottles of medicine sitting on your bedside table.

“Better. I’m feeling so much better.”

You heard Taeyong sigh in relief over the phone. “Thank god. We were so worried about that. Well, you really don’t need to go, but if you have time, I guess doing it today won’t hurt. It will help us a lot.”

A small smile tugged at your lips now and you switched the phone over to your other ear as you started arranging your bag. “Thank you so much for being understanding. I need a distraction anyway. I’d rather work than stay home alone… Thanks for not firing me.”

That made him laugh a little. “I’ll tell the boys that you’re coming over. Oh, and be careful on your drive here. The roads are a little bit slippery today because of the snow.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll be there by 9.”

******* “Noona!”

You have barely finished arranging your materials on your desk when the door to the room burst open and ushered an anxious-looking Jisung inside. You looked up quickly at him, only barely catching Chenle wobbling with his crutch before your vision of the entrance was blocked by Jisung’s tall frame. His hair looked swept up as if he ran and there was a slight flush staining his cheeks. He stopped right in front of you, stopping just in time for him not to topple you over.

“Hey, Jisung how are—” You tried to give him a smile but he was quick enough to grab your hands between his.  

“Are you back? Are you really back for real?” He pressed now, eyes wide as he tried to bend over to look closely at you. He looked like a puppy, the only missing thing being a wagging tail to complete the look. You couldn’t help the brief laugh that passed over you as you tried to calm him down.

“I am. For the day, yes. Sorry I missed so many of your sessions.”

“We thought you left us,” Jisung continued, his lower lip protruding just a bit. Just then, Chenle had finally reached the two of you, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. This is actually the first time you saw him again since the day the two of you had your accident and you’re glad to see him healthy despite his broken leg.

“Hi, Chenle. How are you?”

The boy scratched the back of his head and looked away slightly. “Fine… I’m sorry, noona. I wasn’t able to visit you when you stayed with us. I’m really really sorry about what happened in the forest.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and freed one of your hands from Jisung’s hold to ruffle his hair. The action seemed to have calmed him down a little because he finally looked at you again, a small apologetic smile on his own lips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. But be careful next time, okay?”

“Are you going to be our tutor again, noona?” Jisung pressed once more and you turned your attention back to him. To be honest, you’re still not sure how your schedule will turn out after this, but you couldn’t really bear to break the poor boy’s heart at the moment.

“Yes… I’m here to teach your big brothers today for their tests though. We’ll have to schedule you and Chenle’s lessons again. Is that alright?”

A brief look of disappointment flashed on his face but he was quick enough to pick it up. Jisung smiled and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Okay. We can wait. It’s good you are back, Jaemin-hyung was so—”

“Yah, don’t hog her by yourself. You’ll scare her away.”

A new voice made the three of you look back to the doorway. Haechan smiled at your little group as he strolled casually into the room followed by Jeno and Jaemin. The three of them joined your crowd and you felt Jisung finally let go of your hand as he stepped away to go over to his brothers’ side.

“Hi. Sorry, I only returned now. Taeyong told me that you—”

You weren’t able to finish what you wanted to say as Haechan gently stopped you mid-sentence. He leaned his head to the side, eyes briefly scanning you from head to toe. Unlike Jisung, he looked calm and only barely excited.

“It’s fine. We knew you’ll come back. How are you?”

“Oh… I’m good. My head is better. I haven’t had the chance to thank all of you for taking care of me when I was here.”

“How about your boyfriend?” It was Jeno who asked this time and you quickly turned to him to address his question. Your eyes briefly slipped to Jaemin who was standing behind him before you could even speak though, and for a moment you had the impression that Jeno was shielding him—or blocking him from you. You blinked a little bit in confusion, wondering if it was just your imagination that was making you think that way.

“He’s still… still unconscious,” your smile dropped a little but you tried your best to keep your voice casual. “We’re getting more tests for him. His doctor said that he isn’t showing bad signs at least.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about him,” Haechan said with compassion and you gave him a grateful look. Your gaze settled on Jaemin again, however, who for some reason had barely looked at you since he came into the room. You know that he can be quiet and reserved at times, but there is something in the air around him that makes you slightly worried. He’s so still, but the way he carries himself makes it seem like he’s so strung up at the same time. It also doesn’t help that Jeno seems to be almost pushing him back from view.

“Hi Jaemin… How are you?” You tried to gently ask him to make sure that he is okay. He didn’t look at you at first, but when he finally did, you felt yourself freeze a little. His eyes looked dark and almost emotionless when he met yours and there were shadows under them as if he hadn't slept properly for days. He didn’t even answer and just simply stared, his gaze blank and accusing at the same time.

Haechan casually glanced over his brother and chuckled. “Our Jaeminie here has been sick for the past couple of days so he’s a little out of it. But he’s going to be fine now,” he put a hand over the other’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze as if to calm him down. “Right, Jaemin? We’ll try our best to go to class today since noona is finally back, hmm?”

Jaemin, however, didn’t even seem to hear him. He continued staring at you the same way that kept you pinned on your spot.

“Are you leaving again?” he finally asked and you almost felt goosebumps rise on your skin. It didn’t sound like a question… but more of a threat. You swallowed.

“I’m going to have to arrange my schedule till things get better…” you answered carefully, as if you’re navigating dark waters. That didn’t seem to cut it for him, unfortunately.

“So you’re not leaving. Forever?”

You blinked. To be honest, you’ve been thinking of quitting and just finishing the rest of the month if things didn’t improve, but you don’t think that’s the right answer to give at the moment.

“No… not for now,” you finally managed to say. You watched as Jaemin seemed to visibly relax, his stiff shoulders loosening under Haechan’s grip. He didn’t say anything after that, but he at least looked away, seemingly more satisfied with your words.

“Great. I think we should get to work,” Haechan broke the silence and looked around the room as if the tension you were feeling was just something only you could feel. He nodded towards Chenle and Jisung then. “You guys go back to your own classes. You’ll have your share of noona once it’s your turn.” He then glanced at you, smile still in place. “Should we start then?”

You nodded. “Is Renjun still not back?”

“Not yet. He’s going to be here tomorrow though,” Jeno answered as he took his seat on one of the desks.

“I see…”

Haechan also found his spot, but not before you’ve noticed him urging Jaemin to do the same. Playfully, he took the pencil you’ve arranged on the desk and started tapping it against the wood of the table.

“Don’t worry. We’ll tell him you’re back. I’m sure he can’t wait to have his lessons again~”

******* You looked over the window for the third time in the last fifteen minutes and sighed. The day had been busy with you trying to catch up on the boys’ lessons that you barely even noticed the state of the weather outside. When you finally did, it took you by surprise when you saw how much of the ground was covered by snow—one look at it told you that it is at least a feet deep by now. Your first instinct was to try and maneuver your car out of the lot before your tires get entirely buried in it, but then you remembered that you promised to wait for Taeyong to come back before leaving the manor. The butler requested for you to temporarily watch over the manor while he tries to do some last minute errands back in the city, but it’s been two hours since he originally promised to come back. You eyes glanced at your watch now, then back at the quickly darkening view outside. 

“...severe snowstorm has blocked some of the main roads in the city at the moment. Expect heavy traffic and don’t forget to drive safely.”

You turned to the television now to catch the last of the rambling dialogue of the reporter about the weather. You’ve been debating on whether to call Taeyong or not to check on him, but you didn’t want to seem impatient to go home when you only really wanted to make sure if he’s safe. From the looks of it, he’s stuck somewhere because of the hale, too.

You were on your way to get your phone from your bag to at least try to shoot him a message when you suddenly heard it ring. Getting it just in time, you almost sighed in relief when you saw his number there. You quickly took it and went over to the window to answer it to make sure you get some proper signal.

“Hello? Taeyong?”

“Hey. Finally. I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour, thank god it finally connected.”

“Oh, sorry, my phone’s in my bag. I think the signal’s getting bad because of the snowstorm. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, about that, I’m still stuck in town. The traffic’s so bad here because a section of the main road is blocked. Road maintenance is supposed to come thirty minutes ago but I think there’s a delay because there are other roads they are working on.”

Your gaze drifted back to the television where scenes of the same blocked avenues were being flashed. “Yeah… the news says the same.  Are you safe though?”

“I am. I’m really sorry for making you wait. I’d tell you to drive back and not wait for me anymore but I don’t think you’ll also make it home in time with all this traffic going on. I don’t think it’s going to be safe. Do you mind waiting for a little bit more? I’ll tell you once the roads are better.”

You thought it over quickly, a frown settling on your face. You really want to go home, but he’s right. There’s no point in trying to drive back if you’ll only find yourself stuck in the roads for hours. Not being a big fan of night driving yourself, you can already imagine the stress waiting for you if you add a snowstorm to the mix. As much as you wanted to leave, you’re left with no choice, at least for the moment.

 “I can… I’ll just wait for you, I guess. Do you want me to do anything here while you’re gone? Dinner for the boys?”

“Oh no, no, you don’t need to do that, that’s not part of your job,” Taeyong sounded abashed when he said that. You stepped away from the window then and took a seat by the fireplace that Jeno started earlier. Half of your concentration was on the news which has now shifted to a different set of reports also caused by the snowstorm. “They’ll know when to go down and eat. Don’t worry about them. Where are they right now?”

“Ah, I think they went back to their rooms? I did tell them earlier that I’ll try to wait for you.”

“I see. Yes, I think that’s better. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated. If things don’t get better, I think I’ll have no other choice but find a hostel here and wait for the weather to calm down. You can stay there and just ask for help from any of them. You can stay in the same room just in case.”

You didn’t quickly react to the offer. Instead, your eyes flickered to the doorway of the room before refocusing your attention back to the conversation. It’s not like you have anything against spending the night again at the manor—you’ve done it before, after all—but it’s honestly not really something you’re comfortable to do again. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been okay with overstaying at strangers’ houses but your gut feel is also telling you right now that it shouldn’t be your top option regardless of the situation you are in.

Still, you didn’t want to come off rude to Taeyong, not when he is only being kind to offer you temporary shelter while being stuck in the middle of nowhere himself. So instead, you went against your initial doubts and offered him your thanks in return. It’s just Plan B that he’s proposing after all. 

“I will. Keep me updated though if you need anything you think I can help with.”

“Thank you and I will. I have to go now though. Please make yourself at home. I’ll try to call again after an hour.”

“Okay. Take care.”

You put your phone down now with a worried frown as you heard the line drop. You couldn’t believe this is happening the first day you got back to work but it’s not like you can really blame anyone for it. The only good thing is that you’re sure Jaehyun is being taken care of right now so that is at least one thing off your shoulders. You didn’t really need to rush anywhere, not especially to a vacant home. Leaning back against your seat, you tried your best to relax as your gaze travelled around the room once again. You deliberated on sending a text to your mother-in-law to tell her about your situation but decided against it, not wanting to worry her more. You sighed. For now, you guess you didn’t have any other choice but to wait.

You did try to distract yourself by watching the news for a few more minutes before finally giving up on it. With resignation, you picked yourself up from your seat again and turned the television off. For a moment you simply stood in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what to do with your time when your gaze settled on the door again. Everyone retreated to their own rooms after they finished with their lessons so it means the house is pretty much yours for exploring if you wanted to. You toyed with the idea for a little bit, before finally resigning yourself to it. It’s not like there really is anything else left for you to do, and Taeyong did say you can make yourself feel at home if you wanted to. With a sigh, you finally turned on your heels to leave the room and peered silently into the hallway. It was deserted as expected, but still your eyes travelled left and right to check if there’s anyone out and about at this hour. It was only after you made sure that you were alone when you finally allowed yourself to step into the corridor.

Of course, you have a plan. You’re pretty much sure that checking out the rooms on the first floor is acceptable since it’s where you’ve been rotating your classes so you’re going to stick to those areas. You remember finding a library there once and you focused on finding your way to it to maybe check out some of the books in the collection. 

It did take you about five minutes to finally find the place you were looking for. For some reason, the sections in the manor always confuse you no matter how many times you try to memorize each one, probably because of how big and similar-looking they are on the outside. You’ve already tried four doors when you were finally welcomed by the familiar-looking bookshelves at the fifth one. You sighed and gave one quick look around the room before slipping yourself inside after making sure that you’re alone.

There will probably never be a time when you won’t find yourself fascinated by anything in this grand home. If the architecture of the mansion is not enough to convince anyone how rich the family is, their book collection is enough to assure that at the very least. You’ve only ever taken a quick glimpse of it once during one of your lessons with the boys, but one look of the titles in their shelves is enough to make any literature major excited. You looked at the floor to ceiling collection now, your fingers gently running over the spines of the books you could reach with a small smile on your face.

You were about to check out the rest of the collection on the other side of the wall when something in the middle of the room caught your attention. You didn’t really catch it at first because of the shadows that concealed it when you first came in, but you could pretty much discern the outline of a blanket covered standee now from where you stood. You frowned. Taking careful steps, you closed the distance towards it to try and figure out what exactly it is that you’re seeing.

A closer look revealed it to be an easel covered with white cloth. You could see the outline of the canvas where the blanket falls over it while shadows of colors peeked out into the thin fabric from the surface it was covering. How odd… you knew that Renjun had a different art room for his paintings so to see this now here in the middle of the library seems uncanny.

You didn’t know how long you remained standing in front of it, too. You know you should have walked away—after all, the white cloth hiding it away from plain view means whatever is on that canvas is not meant for everyone’s eyes to see, but you simply couldn’t tear yourself away from it. It’s as if there was a silent force asking you to pull that cloth to reveal what’s underneath, the inclination so strong that you could almost hear its voice breathing down next to your ear, unrelenting until you do what it says.

The next thing you know, you had your hand attached to one end of the fabric. You stared at it now, wondering last minute if you should go ahead or not. You swallowed and glanced around one last time around the room. If you’re alone… it wouldn’t hurt if you could take a peek, right? Nobody will know. You just have to see, then cover it back again. Before you could even think about it too much, your arm was finally moving on its own as it gently tugged at the covering. You watched as it fell gently on the floor, like a bodiless ghost melting into the shadows on the ground.

Your eyes couldn’t make out what you were seeing at first. The dim lighting of the room wasn’t helping at all, but you were sure that it was a woman’s silhouette that was staring back at you from the canvas. Colors swirled around her, like some unknown mass trying to drag her back into unknown depths. Shapes and tones jumped from the picture, but her form stood out from the rest, gracefully twisted as if she was in the middle of trying to fight and succumb to it at the same time. You frowned. Taking a step closer towards it, you tried to study its details under what little illumination the lamps above afforded you.

That’s when it all happened simultaneously. Your heart stopped beating the same time your eyes widened as they finally focused on what’s in front of them. It’s as if the ground suddenly vanished from underneath your feet and you were falling, falling, deep into the abyss despite your body being frozen in fear and shock.

You know this painting. You’ve seen it before. It was the same one by Renjun, the one that you saw on your first day working in the manor.

But it was different now. Instead of the unfinished state that caught your attention before, everything about the picture now is in sharp focus. The lines on the woman’s nude body, the hands—which you thought were simply dark swirls dragging her back—and her face twisted beautifully in pleasure and madness stared back at you like a nightmare.

But it was not those which truly shook you to your core. It’s the realization that it was your own face in the portrait that was staring back at you, silently screaming for you to run away.

You stumbled back in shock. Your chest felt tight as you tried to grasp for air while your hands fumbled to find something to hold on to keep you from crashing on the ground. Before you could even take another step, however, something hard hit your back and you felt strong arms wrap around your waist like a vice. You have barely realized what was happening when you felt someone lean over your shoulder, lips pressing against the shell of your ear.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You’re the perfect muse, don’t you think?” Renjun asked softly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

******* You didn’t know how long you stayed frozen in his embrace. For a brief moment you thought you were dreaming again until you felt his arms slowly tighten around your waist. As if a jolt of electricity shocked you, you immediately turned to push him away as you scrambled to put some distance between the two of you.

Renjun didn’t seem the least bothered when your eyes finally focused on him. He remained on his spot, his gaze on you unwavering. You, meanwhile, were shaking from head to toe, the vision of the painting still branded vividly in your head.

“Renjun—what’s this?” you managed to stutter as you pointed at the artwork in the middle of the room. You couldn’t even spare to look at it again while he merely gave it a casual glance.

“It’s you. I’ve been working on it for a long time. I was about to show it to you but it seems like you couldn’t wait for it yourself.”

You felt nauseous. A part of your rational mind was slowly losing it as you tried to process his answer. Something's not right. Something is so terribly wrong.

“Why—why did you do this?”

Renjun simply stared at you and leaned his head a little bit to the side as if he was only mildly curious of your reaction. Your stomach turned even before hearing his answer.

“You said it’s beautiful.”

“This is not right—!”

“I came home because they said you were leaving for good,” he continued speaking softly, effectively cutting you from what you were about to say. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you took another step back as you watched him get close to his artwork. You watched in horror as his thin fingers lovingly ran over the corners of the canvas. “Jaemin almost lost it… It’s a good thing I got here on time.”

And just like that, everything seemed to have clicked into place. The glances, the touches, the words that seemed to have a different undercurrent under them… they weren’t just fragments of your imagination. Every little thing that has gnawed at you from the inside came into crystal clear focus and you felt your knees go weak from the weight of it all. It took every fiber of your being to try and keep yourself steady now, your legs moving on their own as they took small backward steps away from the boy staring at you now with dead eyes. You couldn’t breathe, but it was the last words he told you that finally snapped you to run.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet. But no, you cannot leave. Ever.”

You didn’t know where you got the energy for it but in seconds you were flying out of that room and running blindly down the darkened corridors. Your blood pumped noisily in your ears and your chest felt like it was going to split from the sudden exertion you put on it, but you didn’t stop, not even looking back as you tried to put as much distance between you and the library. You didn’t even know where you were going. All you’re focused on is to find the exit and leave the house as soon as possible.

A loud bang that sounded off to your right startled you and you screamed, the force of your shock making you whip around and almost lose your balance. Before you could even hit the floor, however, a pair of hands caught you and you immediately turned, grasping at the chest of your rescuer.

You froze. Haechan smiled down at you as he tried to steady you on your feet.

“Haechan,” you gasped as you took fistfuls of his shirt and tried to shake him in your panic. “Renjun—he’s—please, help me. He’s after me—” you gasped out, almost out of your wits. You’re on the verge of a total breakdown that it almost escaped you, the way he simply smiled down on your shaking form. It was only when you felt one of his hands gently caress the top of your head that reality slapped you in the face again. You suddenly stopped struggling in his hold, pupils shaking as you watched him study your features lovingly.

“Shh… it’s fine. I got you,” he whispered and you could swear ice pricked you from the inside. A slight movement to the right made you turn your head and you saw Jaemin lean casually against the banister of the stairs, his face serene. He gave you one quick look before a gentle smile finally lit up his features.

“Has it started?” he asked and you felt Haechan’s hold on you tighten.

“It has.”

You didn’t struggle. It was as if any trace of fight you had left you in that moment and you let your hands fall limply on your sides. Haechan also loosened his grip on you and you stared at the two boys blankly, your chest heaving as if fighting for air. They didn’t move from their spots and simply followed you with their eyes as if relishing the fear and realization flashing in your face.

Trapped.

You’re trapped.

You’ve always been.

You didn’t even realize that your legs had started moving again on their own as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall together in your mind. You were only shaken from it when your back finally hit the front door, the cold metal of the knob pressing against your spine. Jaemin and Haechan remained on their spots still, even as you blindly reached out for it from behind.

You were expecting it to be locked, so you were a little bit surprised when you felt it give way under your hand when you tried to turn it open. Just before you could even entertain the idea of escaping, however, any trace of hope you had quickly died as you turned and came face to face with Jeno standing right in front of the entrance. He didn’t look the least surprised seeing you there, as if he was waiting for you in the first place.

You eyes took in his calm countenance before slowly moving to stare downwards at what he was holding by his side. Your gaze locked on it in fear, and that’s when the flight response in you flared up again.

Jeno’s hunting rifle shone dully in the light of the entryway, his pale fingers wrapped on its handle.

“There’s really only one place you can run, noona, but I won’t advise it,” he said evenly and you felt your blood freeze in your veins.

“After all, no matter where you hide, I’ll still find you in that forest.”

It happened all at once. You broke into a run, your body screaming at you to go faster as you heard gunshots pierce the air.

---

CHAPTER 7

A/N: Good lord, I wasn’t expecting I’d finish this today but I got one large iced coffee and well... things happened. Anyway, enjoy! Let’s hope the format won’t mess up this time. T.T Finally, all hell broke loose~ <3

Tag list! 

@negincho, @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore​, @jsturkey, @aj-7, @pukupukupawpau, @tomiesgirlfren, @vsszn, @those-winternights, @xsnelly, @lihyuck, @laheyspizza, @miyeux27, @haoshitt, @mindofthescattered, @huangberryyy, @d1nne, @choppedupcactus, @neokat​, @yutasnabi​

#nct dream yandere au #nct dream yandere #nct dream yandere fic #jaemin x reader #jeno x reader #renjun x reader #haechan x reader #nct dream 00 line fic #nct dream 00 line x reader #nct horror au #nct dream yandere imagines #jaehyun x reader #yandere!nct dream #yandere!jaemin #yandere!jeno #yandere!renjun #yandere!haechan #nct-writers #yandere!nct dream 00 line

[violettelueur]

RYŌMEN SUKUNA || LITTLE CAGED ARTIST

| featuring : ryomen sukuna ft. itadori yuji 

| warnings : mention of emotional abuse and murder as well as grammar errors

| form : imagine

| word count : 1691

| published : 22 december

| request : Hello, idk if your request are open but feel free to ignore, but just, imagine another reencarnation au (those imaginw of yours are my favourite) where the reader was a painter and Sukuna's personal favourite so he took her and kinda abused her psycologicaly to the point where she would just draw him and only him and he loved that, and in the future she's still an artist that draws Yuuji bc theyre friends but when she sees the tatoos she again draws Sukuna and he feels guilty for the way he treated her and her art in the pastIf It's angst i would apreciate but it's not really necesary

| barista’s notes : hi there~ i apologies for the extremely long wait for your coffee order but now it is there ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ right now it is nearly 5am in the morning and i have no idea why the hell i am awake, but oh well ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ  DONT WORRY THOUGH! after this, i am going to sleep and rest up since today it is Fushiguro Megumi’s and Kageyama Tobio’s birthday today ʕ≧ᴥ≦ʔ but other than that, i hope you enjoy your order of a cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and i hope you come back soon! ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

“Sukuna….please leave me alone...leave the village alone, I beg of you please,” you whimpered to the man that was standing tall and proud with a sadistic smirk painted on his face, while you were on your knees tightly holding onto his large wrist - somewhat slightly covering the black ring marking - as if your weak physical strength could do anything to stop his raising them up and giving a rain upon hell to the people that was residing in the small town you lived in.

You have no idea how you had managed to catch the attention of the most feared curse to both humans and jujutsu sorcerers nor did you know how you managed to become acquainted with the man in front of you. All you knew right now was that the situation you were in at this current moment and time, was not ideal to anyone at all.

You were just a simple artist. A simple village girl artist that was blessed to be hired by the nobility and aristocracy to paint their family portraits with the finest colours that they would offer you, for you to be then paid so you could provide for your village. However, as luxurious as it sounded, you were in love with the idea of just placing a sharped piece of charcoal on a piece of paper or cloth you could find anywhere and sketch your heart designed.

“Leave you alone?” Sukuna questioned you in his deep voice, before slowly crouching down to become face to face with you. “I could never leave you alone, not when you have caught my attention with your craft little one,” Sukuna then stated, as he gently placed a hand on your cheek before using his thumb to caress the soft skin he was touching. 

Ever since Sukuna had caught sight of you delicately painting a portrait of a noblewoman with such care and gentleness, he couldn’t help but wonder how your hands were so carefully and how patient you were to make sure every stroke was perfect to your desire. Slowly, he began to wonder what it was like to be the subject of one's view. A subject that someone desired to recreate on a simple piece of paper. However, compared to his past sightings, you were the most talented as well as the most beautiful he had ever seen and once he was able to gain a clear view of the noble woman that you were illustration, he was surprised at how much detail you were able to encapture in your work and just like the noble woman’s reaction, they both were extremely happy with the result of the final product.

“How about this?” Sukuna suddenly asked, causing your head to suddenly shot up leading you to meet eye to eye with the King of Curses, “if you come with me and draw me and me only for the rest of time, I would leave this little village alone as well as the people residing in it. How does that sound, little one?”

‘Come with him? Where? Why? What’s going to happen to me?’

“If you don’t accept this deal, every single person here will die. Burned, stabbed, slashed, any way possible I can. Men, women and even little children’s lives will be gone, and it would be all your fault.”

‘My….fault? But-’

“You know I’m not a patient person little one, I might as well start my massacre while you take your time to think, it will be-”

“NO PLEASE! DON’T, YOU CAN TAKE ME, JUST LEAVE THE VILLAGE ALONE, PLEASE!” you screamed in desperation, as you tighten the grip of his wrist that was within your grasp to keep him down, as you didn’t want to risk him getting away from your sights for the safety and protection of the people  within the little town you had lived in since the day your life had started.

With a large cruel grin, Sukuna had somehow managed to pry his wrists free from your tense grip before sliding an arm under your knees as well as an arm around your body lifting you up in a bridal position, while you were just expressing a face of shock and fear, confused and fearful on what you had just accepted in exchange for your life. Where were you going? Was this the end? Were you going to die? How much longer have you had left?

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you, you’re too precious to be slaughtered little one,” Sukuna answered - as if he knew what you were thinking - before placing a ghostly kiss upon your temple leading you to freeze still, petrified on what he would do with you had moved a single inch.

This was your life now. 

A caged artist.

                                               ꕥ

Here you were, sitting on a wooden platform outside with a sharpened piece of charcoal that Sukuna had kindly given you, in order for you to sketch a portrait of him. The second you placed the charcoal upon the paper, Sukuna couldn’t help but stare at the light movements of your hand as you lightly stroke a few lines to create an outline before watching your hand suddenly pause, causing the King of Curses to switch his view from the sheet to you, only to find your look at him with such a frightened look.

“I’m sorry…..I shouldn’t look at you, should I? I apologise deeply,” you softly muttered before quickly turning back to the portrait that was right in front of you - you didn’t want to do anything wrong in his eyes, you knew he could go back on his words and harm the people that you cared about. However, it seemed like Sukuna didn’t care at all, he had managed to trap you into his life and had the power to demand you to draw him every time he would mention he could go back to your little village and burn it to the ground. He relished in the idea of being the subject of your attention.

This is what he wanted. 

His little caged artist.

                                               ꕥ

1000 years later and here you were. 

Here you were sketching a picture of your best-friend Itadori with a picture of him that you had managed to capture on your phone. Itadori first came into your life shortly after you had enrolled into Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Techincal College around the same time as your other classmate Kugisaki did. 

You have no idea what drew you into the boy with the pink hair, but something within you pulled you towards him causing the blooming and somewhat hilarious friendship to start, even causing Fushiguro and Kugisaki to wonder what was going on in your mind to somehow relate to the boy - yet, they didn’t mention their questions since they didn’t really think you knew the answer yourself, and they were correct.

However, as you continued to smoothly glide your pencil across the page, applying different pressures to construct some definitions as well as shadows within the photo you were copying from, you began to suddenly realise that you were starting to draw marking upon his portrait. Markings that were so familiar to the ones the person within him had.

Ever since that day at the Eishu Detention Centre, the sight of Sukuna standing in front of you with his shirt ripped off showcasing his black marking caused a trigger of unknown memories to suddenly flood into your mind, causing excruciating pain that was so unbearable, you thought you were going to pass out from the intense pressure, maybe as even close to dying from the immense pain.

From what you could even recall from the sudden flood of blurry images that appeared in your mind, there was a picture of you drawing with a piece of charcoal with the infamous King of Curses seating right beside you, watching you draw will whispering in your ear the threats that he would bombard you in order for you to make sure that you were only drawing him and him only.

Slowly but in a shaking manner, your drawing hand continued to sketch in Sukuna’s markings that would appear on Itadori’s body as you were somewhat extremely afraid of what the King of Curses could do to you if you didn’t - just how you left 1000 years ago.

Although unknown to you, your best-friend Itadori was standing right behind you, having a clear view of what was happening to you as well as the drawing right in front of him. Seeing your shaking figure with slow but clear teardrops landing on the sketch book as well as the drawing evolving from him to the curse residing inside of him, made him realise how damaging Sukuna was to not only him but also to the people around him. Carefully, Itadori placed a hand over your hand that held the pencil, causing you to flinch before finally noticing that it was your friend that was holding it and not the special grade curse.

Within his Innate Domain, Sukuna also had a clear view on what was happening to you and slowly but strangely began to feel something drop to his stomach with the feeling of his throat closing up at the sight of you slowly breaking down into a small state of insanity. This isn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want his beautiful little one to become lifeless and paranoid like you were now.

Even after 1000 years after your death, your incarnation was carrying the feeling of fear, despair and numbness that you were weighed upon the second you had given your life away to the King of Curses for the sake of your village. Even though you had more freedom then you did then, you still left trapped and lost within the metal cage that Sukuna had enclosed you in. Even with the small hint of guilt that was manifested within the cruel curse’s heart. 

You were trapped with no escape out.

You were trapped forever with no key to open the door that was clearly right in front of you.

Forever his little caged artist.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk ryomen #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagine #ryomen sukuna imagines #sukuna imagines #sukuna imagine #sukuna ryomen imagines #sukuna ryomen imagine

[sukirichi]

earned it [05]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. domestic abuse, car accident, slight angst, sexism, suggestive scenes, unedited and my naoya simping is obvious with this one, 

notes. TEAM NAOYA LET’S GOOOO *sighs* finally got this out from my drafts. anyways, here’s an earned it update while i recover from migraines because my schedule was so hectic last week and i’m so tired, might be sleeping a lot these days hence the hiatus :( also ik i keep saying this but future chapters will finally be more...UH SPICY AND MORE DRAMATIC, I guess? this is mostly an angst fic btw so please don’t expect too much fluff of heartwarming romance. there WILL be romance,,,it just takes some time hehe, anways ENJOY...or not :)

series masterlist

Women were weak. Trained to be voiceless, compliant, and unable to fight – Naoya found them weak.

His own mother was the perfect epitome of that. For years, he’d watched her leave his father’s room with dried tears, wiping them away with the back of her sleeves. When she saw a little Naoya standing at the edge of the hallway, she’d immediately usher him back to his room, her tears replaced with a smile so convincing Naoya wouldn’t have believed she’d been crying if he hadn’t seen it for himself.

Naoya wasn’t stupid. How could he be when day and night, he’s surrounded by tutors, expected to take over his clan and lead them all to a brighter future?

How could he be stupid when he can’t sleep at night, for the screams and cries of his mother, the sound of palm hitting cheek resonating just from the other room, accompanied with the insults directed her way by his own father?

How could he be so stupid when he looked up to his mother – who he believed was the only source of light in the rather desolate walls of their manor – only to see that her beauty faded with each passing day, the brightness of her eyes now filled agony, with pain, with fear? She no longer smiled; not even for him. She no longer came around his room to read him bedtime stories no matter how much Naoya pleaded because he’d gotten tired of reciting scriptures and poetry. She no longer kissed him on the forehead as a morning greeting, opting to stay in the sidelines with her head bowed, acting as if she was a servant and not his mother.

Naoya wasn’t stupid. As the future leader of the Zen’in Clan, it was his duty to hear and see everything, to be wary of everyone around him and to observe. He knew his father abused her. He knew his father hated her, looked down on her, stepped on her at each moment he could. And as if that wasn’t enough, Naoya found out they weren’t married in the first place.

She had been nothing but a mere concubine whose role was to birth an heir. Now that Naoya had come to life, her purpose to live ceased to exist. And people who had no role in the Zen’in estate had no reason to stay any further.

“Mother,” Naoya cried out, tugging at his mother’s sleeve. “Mother, please don’t go, don’t leave me!”

She was crying again; he wished she’d stop doing that, that she’d stop being so weak. He wanted his mother to be strong and fight back, but she’s not even attempting to wipe her tears away this time, displaying her vulnerability and meek self to him. Had his father been there, she’d be scolded again, claiming that Naoya shouldn’t be exposed to behaviors of surrender and weakness.

His mother cupped his face, trying her best to keep the younger version of himself from dangling onto her robes; the expensive, silk material the last evidence she’d ever been a part of them.

“Naoya, baby, it’s okay. You need to grow up strong and be the clan leader, okay?”

“But why do you have to leave? Why do you never fight back?”

“I’m sorry, dear...” was all she said, finally kissing him on the forehead like she’d failed to do so for the past months. Somehow, it didn’t make him feel any better. Instead, Naoya’s cries grows louder with each minute, loud enough that he caught the attention of his manservants who paled at the Young Master’s wails that was sure to displease his father locked inside his study. His mother sent a glance their way that expressed messages he couldn’t yet understand due to his innocence. Strong arms wrapped around his smaller frame until they dragged Naoya away from his mother, the sight of a luggage behind her turning him weak in the knees.

“Remember, Mother always loves you.”

“No!” he fought against their hold. His servants did all they could to not harm the Young Master’s skin, but Naoya was too strong, too desperate that they were unable to hold him back.

Naoya kept running and running, uncaring of the fact his loose robes hindered him from going at full speed. He didn’t stop, even as his servants had trailed after him, desperate pleas for the Young Master to come back falling into deaf ears. His mother had arrived on a nearby bus from the open roads that led outside the Zen’in Estate’s outer gates, her hand frozen on the doors with her head slightly tilted to the side.

That slight moment of hesitance – to look behind or leave everything behind – was what made Naoya stop in his tracks. He breathed hard, sweaty palms on his knees as he silently prayed to the divine beings to bring his mother back, for her to look at him one last time.

But she didn’t.

And Naoya was frozen in his tracks, everything colliding into one crash and burn that he failed to make sense of everything. He stood there and watched his mother hop into the bus, her decision to leave him behind final and irrevocable. What had rung louder then? The way his heart shattered into pieces, or the loud honking of an incoming car that not even his skilled team of guards could protect him from?

Naoya figured it must’ve been the muffled cries of his mother behind the windows that rung the loudest even if he hadn’t heard it.

Until now, he carried the mark his mother left behind; a gnarly scar running inches from his kneecaps that throbs until now. It reminds him every day what could happen to someone once they’re weak, once they’re vulnerable, the horrifying consequence of not being strong enough to face in this world like a huge slap in his face. In a way, he felt grateful for the scar; at least it was proof he’d done his best to run after his mother, and this injury just taught him it was best to face things head on instead of running away.

This scar would always tell him that running away was never the option, and that was why Naoya felt so strong, so disappointed when he met you. Naoya saw much potential in you – the wrath firing in your eyes and the will to fight back is what pulled him in on the first place – and yet you were already trembling on the ground, your sweat dripping on the floor.

“Stand up!” he demanded, tapping his cane on the ground as he wobbled to his feet. “Do you really think being weak will make you survive in this world?”

“I’m trying!”

“You’re not trying hard enough,” he spat out, matching the intensity of your glare. Had you been any lesser of a woman, a servant, he’d have your eyes gouged out. But to him, you were a vessel of hope, an embodiment of strength he could help you hone that he let you off. Still, he felt extremely let down that he expected so much from you, and you’ve been pathetic so far.

Naoya shook his head as he left. “You’re going to die the moment you step out of here. And to think I actually had high hopes for you. As expected, you women are weak and pathetic. Each one of you is useless.”

He didn’t get very far when his injury throbbed again. Naoya fell to his knees and immediately bit down on his lip to conceal his groans, but it was too late. You’ve rushed to him in an instant, already pulling his slacks upwards to get a good look at his knee. Worry is painted all over your features still drenched in sweat and exhaustion, and he pried your hand away, a frown deep on his lips.

“Get away from me. I don’t need a woman’s help.”

“You’re so uptight, you know that?” you rebutted with a roll of your eyes. Naoya watched as you skipped to the nearest medical kit he always kept in his training grounds (which he rarely used) and popping out painkillers to hand to him. “Just shut up and let me take care of you. Unlike you, I don’t walk around calling people weak, and you having this injury never made you weak in my eyes, but you’re not impotent either,” scoffing at him, you pushed the bottle of water to a very annoyed looking Naoya. “At least let me take care of you every once in a while.”

His whole life, Naoya knew nothing but the familiar bitter cold. Being served tea, scaring his servants with his mere presence, the toxic view that everyone was below them drilled into his own head – that had been his life, and his feelings about it were neither hot nor cold.

To him, it was just the way he’s supposed to be.

But the warmth of your hands, the tenderness of your touch to his scars not because you found him weak but rather you cared for him…it tugged at his heartstrings. That had been at least five years ago and Naoya still remembered that moment very clearly.

He couldn’t understand whether he hated his inability to run away or not, because to be around you confused him to no end. One moment, he saw you as nothing but his one way ticket to fortune, but when he was alone with you, he was beginning to see you more as a woman rather than a pawn to his game. Soon, you became more than that, and nothing had terrified him even more that he let someone in his heart just like that.

Did he love you? No, most definitely not. A man like him didn’t know how to love. But with you – every time he saw you – Naoya is confident to admit that he could somehow understand what love meant.

It had been a hellish trip – one he’d never admit it out loud that he wished to never go on again. He was just happy to be home before he laughed, because home? He’d never thought he’d ever say that, yet there he was, beaming at the sight of you pushing your weight off the limousine.

You looked as stunning as usual, running up to him even with your heels before wrapping your arms around his neck. Usually, Naoya didn’t like public displays of affection since it could greatly deter his reputation, but everyone knew both of you weren’t each other’s weaknesses that he didn’t care whether his people could see their leader grinning as his wife welcomed with a kiss. Naoya balanced himself on his cane to encircle a hand to your waist, pulling you closer and burying his face in your hair.

“I missed you,” you mumbled with your head buried in his shoulder.

Naoya’s smile wasn’t any less affectionate. “I missed you more.” And he did – a whole lot. Even as you both made it inside the limousine, the tablet passed to him per the usual to update him on what happened on the few days of his absence, Naoya couldn’t keep his hands to himself. His cane balanced between his knee and the door, while his free hand intertwined with yours, mindlessly caressing the matching rings that symbolized more trust than love.

“How did it go?” he brought your knuckles up to his lips and kissed it, his attention still focused on today’s stock market. “Did you convince him to lend us the lab?”

“Yes, my love, everything is under control. I told you I had it.”

“Cunning little minx,” he smirked at the confidence and triumph dripping from your voice. Naoya shut his tablet off with a click, hauling you until you were resting on his lap. Giggles erupted beautifully from your lips as you pressed your forehead to his, both your smiles equally mischievous. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No. Satoru is still hopelessly in love with me, so it didn’t really take much to push him to the edge with a few tears and white lies,” you smiled at him, soon dropping from your face when Naoya’s eyes darkened with an unreadable – no, unfamiliar hint of worry behind them. “Naoya,” you caressed his leg, “I don’t care about him anymore, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I just want to survive and put everything behind,” you cupped his face and forced him to look you in the eye, making sure he heard every bit of sincerity in your voice. “You know I love you, right? I���ll follow you to the ends of the earth. Him coming back doesn’t change a thing.”

“I know that,” he said, although deep down, in the dark recesses of his heart, something agonizing stirred within.

You were a smart woman – too intelligent that he may have feared you had he been any lesser – who could easily read through him, but Naoya wanted to be a step ahead of you that he caught your lips to stop you from seeking beneath his soul already. He knew that if you looked a little too close, you’d see everything, and that would be the last thing he wanted.

Snaking his tongue past your lips, he greedily swallowed your moans. Naoya’s touch was possessive as he gripped your thigh, seconds away from ripping off the material of your dress. He only stopped once he saw his driver pale in awkwardness, and he chuckled to himself, squeezing your hips to stop you from grinding on his thigh.  

“You’re always so good for me,” he praised, “I might just reward you once we get home.”

Home. Prior to meeting you, home had been nothing but a word in his extensive vocabulary. Home had been nothing but something that carried a meaning but no significance in his living, but now that he’d met you, home felt familiar. Home smelled like rose-scented shampoos, it resonated of bubbly laughter and curious hands finding its way to its belt. Home…you’d just given him something to lose.

As per the plan, you managed to sneak past Satoru’s defenses. Naoya had once said that your secret weapon was not your tempting nature as a woman, but rather your intelligence that sometimes put his to shame. He’d shamelessly announced his plan to use you again with the goal of taking matters into your own hands, looping Satoru into the picture until you have him wrapped around your finger again.

It turned out to be easier than expected. Truthfully, you wanted to refuse. It wasn’t because you were worried you’d beat yourself in your own game and fall for Satoru again, but because it felt so uncomfortable to hold him like that, to kiss him like that.

Each second you spent with him just served as a painful reminder of how he’d mindlessly pushed you to the side from a failed plan of ‘protecting’ you.

However, you couldn’t complain nor deny Naoya’s wishes. He wanted to use your abilities to the fullest of its extent and bring out your potential. Besides, you trusted him wholeheartedly that you’d never question his motives, even if it included seducing Satoru with crocodile tears and a faux broken heart to get him to bend and move at your will. After all, your will was also Naoya’s, and that was what made the both of you so dangerous together.

Standing here now in Satoru’s laboraty, sending him phoney desperate glances as you clutched your husband’s hand, the game had just begun.

He was giving you both a tour of what you could use from his laboratory, and Naoya had kept silent the whole time. The whole drug manufacturing was more your expertise than his. He simply observed everything with watchful eyes, his gaze darting between Satoru’s longing ones and yours. It was a play pretend of push and pull, everyone in the room except for Satoru unaware that soon, you’d bare your fangs to rip his neck apart, and then you’d stand aside and let Naoya finish the business.

You would’ve laughed had Naoya not tightened his grip on your hand. Both you and Satoru paused as Naoya desperately shushed you up, his eyes wide and floating from one corner to another.

Suddenly, a loud explosion came out of nowhere. The blast crushed half of the building to bare rubble and concrete and you saw nothing but black, inhaled so much smoke that your lungs quivered. The ringing in your ears didn’t stop as you wobbled to unsteady legs, waving the smoke away and coughing whatever filled your system. Satoru was right beside you, his long limbs quicker than yours before he hauled you up, checking to see if you had injuries but you were too scared, too desolate to care for his worry.

For your husband laid under a pile of rubble, an arm and his head the only parts of his body saved from the explosion.

“Naoya!” You screamed and pushed Gojo away, taking your heels off before darting straight to where he was. Jumping from broken debris to one another, your feet scraped and burned with each contact, the ringing in your ears growing louder along with the pounding of your heartbeat.

“Naoya, baby, no!” you tried to pick up the heavy slab of concrete that had crushed his body, tears blurring your vision until Naoya’s blond hair swiveled with his dark clothes. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t you fucking dare-”

“Gojo,” he choked out blood. You fell to your knees as you cupped his face and grasped his hand all the while, your entire body shaking. His name kept falling from your lips as you asked him to stand up but he pushed your hand away, not sparing you another glance as he glared at the shock still man behind you. “Take her someplace far – somewhere he won’t find the both of you. It’s T-Toji.”

“No, Naoya, please! I’m not leaving without you!” It was too late. Satoru had easily carried you and threw you over his shoulder, running away from the scene because that was what he was best at. You pounded at his back as the smoke enlarged and covered the entirety of the building that had fizzled with chemicals inside, your husband starting to disappear from view. “Satoru, let me go! We can’t just leave him there!”

“Listen to your husband! He knows what he’s doing!”

As the smoke cleared for a split second, your world stilled. Naoya’s face was smothered with dirt and stains, pain evident on his twisted features, and yet – he was smiling. “Go,” he mouthed, hands outstretched far enough for your matching rings to glint under the sparkling lights. “Live.”

You slumped into Satoru’s arms. It was too late.

You couldn’t comprehend the events that happened afterwards. Satoru had pushed you inside his car before taking off to who knows where. All you knew was that you’d left your husband behind, and you stared emptily at the streets that flashed by, unable to feel or understand anything. It wasn’t until Satoru dragged you out by the wrist and a plane whirring before you snapped you back to life, your feet turning heavy as you plant yourself on the ground.

Satoru looked back at you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you shook your head, “I’m not leaving him behind, Satoru, he’s all I have. I need to save him – even if it means I die.”

“You’re not going to die,” he starts off slowly. Satoru moves to place his hands down on your shoulders as if to brace you, even going as far as to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but you couldn’t really listen, not when the plane hummed to life and remnants of the explosion still clung to your skin.

“Listen, Naoya is a smart man, okay? You know that yourself. He’ll survive, you just need to trust that he’ll make it. Now we have to go before Toji catches up to us and we end up all dying here!” he shook you back to life when your sobs overpowered his speech that fell on deaf ears, and you cried harder, much less like a little girl who quivered in his arms. Satoru sighed, perhaps just as broken from seeing you this way. “He told you to live. Naoya isn’t asking you to die for him, he’s asking you to live and if you don’t get on the plane, we can’t fulfill his wish,” he convinced, but you only bit your lip, still looking back at the car. You could steal it – one punch to his nose and you could easily get away, get back to Naoya, until he said, “You love him right? So respect his wishes.”

You love him. You love Naoya. He would’ve wanted me to live. He asked me to live.

That was the only consolation you could give yourself as you allowed Satoru to take you inside. His right hand man, Geto or something, quietly closed the cabin doors behind you. He was making sure his boss was situated, who in turn was fretting over you. All it took was one last warning glare sent Satoru’s way before he backed off, raising his hands in surrender and falling back to his seat.

Sooner than you’d like, the plane had took off, leaving your heart right behind with each passing second. The higher you flew up in the air, the number you became.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a base in Italy. We should be safe there for a while. Gather resources, plan our next move, contact friends...we’ll be fine,” Satoru pinched the bridge of his nose. It was hard to believe things would be fine when he too seemed restless; whatever happened between him and Toji must’ve really left a scar; not that you cared. You huffed away from Satoru and stared outside the windows instead, your heart dropping the farther Japan was becoming. “Hey. You should get some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

“Whatever,” you snapped at him. You couldn’t stand his voice, not even if he’s saved you.

The only thing that mattered now was living up to Naoya’s wish, and as much as you hated it, Satoru was right. You had to hope he would survive.

The chances of him making it out were low, but knowing Naoya, low chances weren’t zero. As long as he had a little bit of something, he would keep pushing. You just had to place your trust in him.

Kissing your dusty ring, you wiped away your tears one last time, eyes shut tight as you chanted over and over, live, live, live for me! Live! Naoya couldn’t give up that easily. You both had a long way to go, still so many places to travel, thousand more enemies to conquer and defeat. He promised you the fun was just beginning and that you’d get your revenge soon, and Naoya never broke his promises. So you had to trust, had no other choice but to believe that soon he’d be right beside you. He may not be able to completely walk anymore, though none of that mattered. You just wanted to be with him again.

You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep until Satoru’s hushed whispers woke you up. Sitting up straight, you saw him scowling to whoever he’s talking to on the phone. He looked grim, long, slender fingers caressing his forehead as he sighed. Whatever he heard, it couldn’t have been good, and curiosity got the best of you before you could help it.

“What is it?” Satoru stilled at the sound of your voice, having not expected you to be awake. He refused to meet your eyes as he shut his phone. It angered you further and you stalked his way, slapping a palm down the table before him. “I said, what is it?”

“It’s Naoya...” he said through clenched teeth, still refusing to look you in the eye. “He didn’t make it.”

notes. team naoya...let’s go...cry 😭 when I said I would write more gojo x reader scenes and that they’re still the pairing, I meant it, I just had to take a dark route anyways DO YOU GUYS UNDERSTAND WHY IT TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO UPDATE THIS, I DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS TO NAOYA BAE 😭 but on the bright side, italy arc is gonna be SHEESH

taglist open (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @asshxcm @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap @yumeneji @dora-the-grownup @jotazinha @themrsgojo @d34r-s4t4n @marai-t @toji-bee @hai-cool @badsadbby @stesphy @peach-buns-unicorns @misslezah @riri-marley @gracefullyfallinglikeanime @iwaplant​ @mikiminaccch​ | bolder users cannot be tagged

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo-satoru-x-reader #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #gojo x reader angst #gojo x reader romance #naoya x reader angst #naoya x reader romance #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen series #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo x reader imagines #gojo satoru x reader imagines #naoya x reader imagines #naoya zenin x reader imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen romance #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #sukirichi: earned it #i hate this chapter so much #naoya bae i will bring you back to life in another series just for you

[after-witch]

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

**

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

**

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

**

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off. 

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

**

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #yandere ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #knives out #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes

[noshitshakespeare]

When goes through your mind when reading stuff Shakespeare wrote that is racist by today's standards? Can we justify it by acknowledging that he was simply a man of his time? I've been finding it to detract from my enjoyment of plays that I otherwise love e.g. lines like "if I did not love her I would be a Jew" or the pejorative use of "Ethiope" in Much Ado About Nothing. And then just...Shylock. Is there evidence that Shakespeare was actually progressive for his time?

Thanks for this question, anon. This is an important point that’s worth thinking about in some detail, because, while you can’t really judge someone in the past by standards they didn’t even have a word for, Shakespeare is not just a past author but someone whose works continue to have meaning for people today. But it’s not as simple as a case of blame or justification, nor are those examples quite as straightforward as they may seem. 

Let’s think first about the question of pejorative uses of words like ‘Ethiope’, or ‘Jew’ in passing phrases. These are definitely offensive by today’s standards, but are more like set phrases in Shakespeare’s time, where ‘Jew’ is used as a shorthand for anything un-Christian, especially those things stereotypically associated with Jewish people, such as avariciousness. The same goes for ‘Ethiope’: since the beauty standards of the day dictated that white, gold and pink were the signifiers of beauty, anything dark is used as shorthand for unattractive, and calling someone with dark features an ‘Ethiope’ is then an exaggeration of those features. They’re lines that you have to either cut or bring attention to in modern productions because you can’t really justify their usage. But it’s really important to see that set phrases are phrases that have become common and therefore that people use them without necessarily thinking of their implications. To position ourselves as somehow better because we have the benefit of the many wonderful things that people have done to advance human rights and equality is a little wrongheaded. We need to be aware that we have similarly offensive terms that people use today that most likely won’t stand up to scrutiny in the future. I know when I was younger, people used the word ‘gay’ pejoratively without thinking about who that might offend, and people use ableist phrases like ‘I’m so blind’ without consideration too. In other words, as unjustifiable as it is that there are such phrases, there’s a difference between using them directly to injure and using them unknowingly. 

And that brings me to my second point: Shakespeare is writing plays, which means that these are phrases he puts into the mouths of particular characters. We don’t really know how Shakespeare himself spoke, but it’s necessary to distinguish between an author's position and his depiction of certain characters. Writers regularly write from the perspective of people whose views they don't share, and there's no way every single one of Shakespeare's characters is a mouthpiece for his beliefs. We can't attribute racism to Shakespeare any more than we can say he must have had thoughts about regicide because he wrote Macbeth. This definitely applies to The Merchant of Venice: the so-called 'Christian' characters mistreat Shylock, but that's not the same as saying the play condones that behaviour.

As for whether Shakespeare was progressive... Personally, I'm not sure about judging a work based on what one thinks of the author, especially if the author is long dead and no royalties are going to them. While I can understand that one's feelings about a particular author might hinder the enjoyment of the work, on some level, once a work is produced, it acquires a life of its own which is not up to the author's control anymore, especially for someone like Shakespeare who is surprisingly quiet about what he thinks of his own work (unlike, say, Ben Jonson).

So perhaps it doesn't matter very much, but I do think that Shakespeare writes in a way that shows something of the breadth of his view of life. As I've already said, we don't know what he thought. Still, the multiplicity of perspectives that is characteristic of his writing suggests he could think outside of the common understanding of his time. So, for instance, he really doesn't go in for low blows about religion the way many of his contemporaries do, and whenever there is a character like Aaron, Othello, or Shylock, he includes something that complicates the stereotype. Thus, we have Aaron being a more caring and loving father than anyone else in Titus Andronicus, and asking 'Is black so base a hue?' (4.2.73); Shylock's famous 'Hath not a Jew eyes' (3.1.55) speech; Othello's nobility, and Shakespeare's sonnets on the Dark lady, which really question the beauty standards of the day. This is far more than we get from the general use of stereotypes in city comedies, or in two-dimensional depictions of the stereotypical early modern Jew as in The Jew of Malta.

Though he often starts from the stereotypes he's familiar with and depends on the language of his time, Shakespeare shows an imaginative empathy that makes him consider what it might be like to be the characters he depicts. What could be more progressive than empathy? Shakespeare can write from the perspective of characters we'd consider racist now, but he also writes, and writes convincingly, from the perspective of those who are abused, regardless of their religion, sexuality or gender.

#Anonymous #anon anon sir! #Shakespeare #racism #stereotypes #the merchant of venice #othello #titus andronicus #much ado about nothing #long post #complicated stuff

[neversleepagainau]

please do not repost my art.​

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at long last, im so excited to announce that this ask blog is officially open! many people know I’ve been working on this intro for roughly five weeks, and I’m very excited to finally share it- possibly as excited as I am to FINALLY begin telling this story!!!

first of all, tumblr completely ruined the quality of that last panel- if you wanna see the full sized gif (warning you now, it’s enormous), you can find that here! And, if the gif is hard to read/hard to view, there’s a static version of this panel below the cut! 

There’s also a ton of extra information that could answer some questions you might have, as well as a list of potential triggers to watch out for in the future! However, it is really long, and when I say really long, I mean it’s chapter-in-a-book-long so please don’t feel obligated to read it unless you have extra questions/have some bad triggers you wanna make sure to avoid.

Otherwise though, I can’t wait to see what kind of questions you guys send these two! One has to wonder… where in the world are they headed off to in the dead of night… 

First of all, here’s the static image of Panel 8, as promised!

And now for some extra info on things going forward.

On every single canon update, there will be a description of themes in this story that could unsettle or discomfort some viewers. I’ve included tags to blacklist, and explained exactly how these situations might arise so folks who are sensitive to this kind of thing can prepare themselves accordingly! 

I would recommend at least skimming this list if you know you have some bad triggers! This story will never get too dark or intense, as I’m attempting to stay true to the original spirit of MSA, but this doesn’t mean it won’t touch on those themes at all.

also, in regards to how much of this art is hand drawn by me- the honest truth is 99% of this is entirely freehanded. I took colors from the videos, but otherwise only used them as reference. However, if I ever used a canon asset to help me, I will always specifically say what exactly was borrowed directly from canon in a way that was more than just using images as reference and taking colors. for this post specifically, I’ll word it a little differently, but this will all be much tidier in the future.

the van asset is 97% freehanded by myself- I did take measurements of the canon asset, and marked my canvas so I’d know the width and height of the van, and vaguely marked where the tires would be. 
I did trace the antennae ontop, as well as the cloud decals, one of the curves on the right side of the windshield, part of the door window at the very bottom lefthand corner, and the rear view mirror. The logo was not recreated, I directly took that and just altered the colors to fit the van.  Other than that, everything you see on that van was freehanded. The van was also the only thing I used a canon asset to help me with for creation of it, meaning that the rest of the art in this introduction is entirely freehand.

moving on from that- updates will not take an entire month like this did. i will not be doing eight full color illustrations for every single update, and for right now, at the minimum, they’ll happen weekly!  i can provide more information going forward once I work out how I’m going to go about things a little better, since things won’t be as huge as this introduction was. don’t worry though, the quality of the art itself will stay the same throughout the whole story!

and yes, lewis and vivi are in this too! there’s a big cast of characters, and lew and viv are just as much at the center of this story as arthur and mystery are- don’t worry, you’ll see them plenty soon enough!

finally, before we get to the content warning stuff, if you ever have any questions about how I’m running things, or need clarification on anything, please let me know! I’m happy to explain things in more depth if needed!!! and now, here’s the last chunk of this INCREDIBLY long introduction. ~~~ WHAT FOLLOWS IS A VERY LONG (!!!), IN DEPTH LIST OF THINGS VIEWERS MIGHT ENCOUNTER IN THIS STORY THAT COULD TRIGGER THEM. If you are not super sensitive or have very intense triggers, you don’t really need to read what follows unless you want to. Otherwise, I would at least skim this, so you know what tags to block so you won’t have to see this type of content.

Don’t let any of this worry you too much, by the way! This story is very likely not ever going to get extreme in any manner, I just like to be very cautious, just in case!

Also keep in mind that you can always ask me to add tags to a post, and it’s highly unlikely I will refuse said request. If I do, it will be for a very good reason, and I’ll explain it thoroughly, as well as remain open to any discussion about it. With that in mind, here are things to be aware of:

CHARACTER DEATH/REMOVAL FROM STORY: There may be characters in this story that you will get attached to that end up dying or not being in the story at all or as much as they were before. This story has chances for different outcomes depending on asks, but there are some things I have set in stone and a few of them involve these themes, so please be mindful of that. The tags to blacklist to avoid updates that touch on this specifically are #character death or #character removal.

DISTURBING CONTENT: This is vaguely worded because it is a bit of broad umbrella. There may be themes of body horror, gore, violent/upsetting/disturbing depictions of death (not any worse than Lew’s death, if it ever is I’ll be sure to specify ahead of time), creepy/unsettling designs and environments, so on and so forth. The tag to blacklist to avoid updates that include anything I consider to be disturbing to view is #disturbing content.

ANGST: This story will get sad, and broach on themes of abandonment, loss, trauma, depression, paranoia, self-hate, and things in this nature. What I can immediately promise is this story will NEVER have themes of suicide or self-harm. I do not feel this story needs to go there, nor do I wish to take it there. Also, while there is angst, I do not believe in beating characters up mercilessly- the angst is for the story and their development. This is not going to be a story that is only angsty. However, if any sort of angst upsets you, the tag to blacklist to avoid updates that include heavier, angstier themes is #angst.

PARANOIA: A few of the characters often get a sense of being hunted or followed, or something lurking around the corner, which can be upsetting to some viewers. A few characters may occasionally have moments where they express their anxieties in depth. The tag to blacklist to avoid updates that include heavy mentions of paranoia/depictions of it/make the characters (and potentially audience) feel paranoid is #paranoia.

UNREALITY: Lewis has some powers that can warp space and create illusions, and potentially will be in situations where he uses them in ways that could mess with people’s perception of reality. This can be very uncomfortable for some people to view, so in updates where this may happen, the tag to blacklist is #unreality.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES: This story will NEVER be explicitly NSFW, and will rarely ever feature these themes at all. It is mainly for the occasional joke here and there, but absolutely nothing more. However, if any implications of something slightly more adult make you uncomfortable, the tag to blacklist here is #suggestive themes.

ANIMAL HARM: Mystery may enter situations where he ends up getting hurt during this story, though he will never endure any kind of situations that mimic real life animal abuse. If seeing an animal be harmed in any way remotely upsets you, the tag here to blacklist is #animal harm. 

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If you made it all the way to the bottom, you’re a champ!!! While posts will definitely not be this long going forward, I really appreciate you taking the time to read this!

#msa #mystery skulls animated #msa fanart #mystery skulls animated fanart #mystery skulls #mystery skulls fanart #msa animation #mystery skulls animated animation #mystery skulls animation #msa arthur #msa mystery #arthur msa #mystery msa #arthur kingsmen #mystery #arthur #msa ask blog #mystery skulls animated ask blog #mystery skulls ask blog #mystery skulls animated arthur #mystery skulls animated mystery #never sleep again au #never sleep again msa au #nsa msa au #nsa au #never sleep again #story #gif warning #gif #long post