#then stick a fork in me. i'm fucking done

[successionable]

what if during the tomshiv balcony fight

shiv: [seething] "you'd be nothing if i hadn't plucked you from the bottom of the corporate shit-pile! i fucking made you–"

tom: [cuts her off] "but you never treated me like family, shiv! that's all i ever wanted! in fact [mirthlessly chuckles] the only member of your family who has ever shown me a shred of affection is the fucking, ne'er-do-well of a cousin you also all hate!"

shiv: [clicks tongue, incredulous] "oh, is that right? [snickering] well then, maybe you should've fucking married him instead of me, yeah?"

tom: [falters, mouth ajar, does that thing with his eyes where they betray his real emotions before his brain catches on, looks down] ...yeah. (maybe he should have.) [looks up] yeah. (maybe it's not too late.)

#succession s4 #tomgreg #the woobification of tom wambsgans agenda #or idk something to that affect #like can you imagine ?? #ugh #just let me be delusional for at least one (1) more day #srsly tho if either of them bring up greg in any capacity during the fight #then stick a fork in me. i'm fucking done #this is how tomgreg can still win #i am cringe but i am Not free #succpost

[nominalnebula]

it’s not that I’m counting down the hours until the boss is on vacation and then I’m off for 10 days but I’m counting down the hours because this is some Bullshit™

#micky speaks #YELLS INTO THE VOID #took a sick day friday because I was just Fried #like stick a fork in me I'm done #and came back and I haven't been able to finish the stupid statement of facts because phone keeps ringing #and other shit keeps popping up #and receptionist came in this afternoon like 'hey so just wanted to make sure you were aware but...' #like shut up we got this lecture last week you're literally way late to the game #and also in no position to be lecturing on how to label files correctly #YOU CAN'T EVEN DO YOUR FUCKING JOB #can't quit without another job in place but you bet I'm looking for a new job first of the year

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader

You're early.

Your little knock on the door sends him into a spiral of panic, brain splitting in half, trying to figure out if he can hide his mortifying failure from you and still save dinner.

You knock again.

"Hey, sorry, I know we're early but-" You peel off with a sniff, nose wrinkling slightly, lips tucking together. You're wearing a lip stick, or a lip gloss, or something? And your hair is done. "Is something burning?"

"No!" He blurts. "No, uh. I'm just... cooking. Come in, come in."

He did actually, burn dinner. He burnt it so bad he had to order delivery, Thai on the fly, much to your excitement, and he files the knowledge of one of your favorite foods away for the future. The two of you eat together, little bits and pieces being given to Emmaline from your finger, and by the time you're finished, he's nearly worked up the nerve to start talking.

"So..." your voice trails, awkwardly, and you glance at him before looking away, finding a spot on the wall to study. Here goes nothing.

"I ah, wanted to explain, my behavior... from the other night." He starts, rubbing the nape of his neck. You watch him expectantly, Emmaline on your lap, and when he falters, you give him an encouraging nod.

"I'm listening."

"How I reacted, how I spoke to you was... unfair. It was cruel and I never want to make you upset, like that." You nod. "What I do- my job- it's... it can be dangerous. Stressful. Our last mission was difficult and I... operate in a different headspace at work. It's what keeps me alive. Makes me good at what I do." Skip the killing part, LT, Soap's voice reminds him, and he pushes on. "I was still decompressing, when you came to the door and I didn't want you to see me... like that."

"With your war paint." You quip, and he pauses, head cocked. "You had black stuff, around your eyes?"

"Yes, with my war paint. I didn't want you to..." He loses it for a second, flailing in the wind, mind scrambling as he tries to put the words together. Just say it. Tell the truth. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me. I don't think I could stand it. It's no excuse but, I guess, I thought you deserved an explanation."

"You're right." You say slowly. "It's not an excuse." You sigh, twirling a fork through the last of your noodles. "I'm not mad at you, not anymore. I just... it's hard you know. To put yourself out there, when you're a single mom. And a widow. I thought, maybe... you didn't-"

"I do." He cuts you off. "I... you and Emmaline, you're the best things that have happened in a long time. I-"

"Oh my god!" you gasp, and he instinctually startles, muscles going stiff as he surveys the flat.

"What?"

"It's snowing! Sorry, just uh..." You're already standing, hand half reaching towards him, excited smile on your face. "Emmaline's never seen snow before, can we... this is her first winter." You explain, and then move towards the balcony, fidgeting with his door lock, huffing in frustration when you can't figure it out.

"I got it." He says, not mentioning that it's custom, and slides it free, pushing the door wide so you can go outside. You're vibrating with joy, smile wide and big, and even Emmaline feels it, watching her mum, little face lit up the same as yours.

"Look, baby. Look!" You point, and then cup your palm, letting fat white flakes fall into your hand, tilting to show Emma, and she cackles with excitement, pudgy hand slapping against yours, bringing the melting snow to her mouth. You laugh with her, staring back up at the sky before glancing over to where he stands in the doorway, enraptured. The snow is caught in your hair, on your nose, in your eyelashes, the same as the baby, both of you glowing on his fucking balcony like angels on earth, sent to him from someone up there who might love him.

"Thanks, mum." he whispers to himself, to her, ducking inside to grab the blanket from the couch so he can wrap the two of you up in it to keep you at least a little warm and protected from the elements. "I wish you could have met them."

When he reappears, you're still catching flakes, this time with your tongue, hardly paying attention until he's settling the blanket on your shoulders and stepping back to watch, content to try to memorize every single second.

"Come here." You call, extending a hand, wiggling your fingers. "Try to catch one on your tongue." But he can't move.... he's too stunned, standing there before you, staring, and it gives you pause. "Simon." You whisper, head tipped back. The balcony lamp reflects in your eyes, snowflakes and yellow shine glowing back at him, the entire world lit up inside them, and his hand finds your cheek, cupping it with his bare palm, thumb stroking across the velvet that is your skin.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. So, so sorry." His voice sounds thick, fractured, and you smile, leaning into him, Emmaline's warm weight between your bodies.

"I know... I... I understand now." You look away, for a second, taking a deep breath before blinking rapidly, tears just barely there on your waterline. "I can't... losing Emma's dad, before she was even born I- I can't... I don't want to go through anything like that again, Simon. I'm scared." It's a confession, horrifying and real, terrified and heartbreaking. All he can do is tell you the truth. Tell you what he feels. What he knows.

"You don't have to be scared." He murmurs, low and soft, other hand coming to gently support Emmaline's back. "Not with me. I promise you." What is he doing, what is he doing, what is he- what is he promising? To live forever? To never hurt you? To never let either of you be hurt? To claw his way back to you, even in death?

He looks down at you, at Emma, and the world freezes. He sees everything so clearly, the image of his future, of yours- a little house with a yard, another baby. Emmaline a big sister, so proud and excited. All of you tucked away somewhere secret and safe.

He takes a deep breath, exhale crystalizing in the air, water vapor falling like a halo around you, and his confession comes unbidden, so easily given to you. "I want to kiss you."

"Okay." You answer, and then he moves, closing the gap, slowly pressing his lips to the warmth of yours, blood pooling beneath his skin, heat flowing between your bodies. You taste like heaven, mouth sweet and easy for him, parting with a tiny gasp, and it overpowers him to the point where he thinks his knees might give out. He can't help but hold your closer, arm tightening around your back, finger stroking down the length of your spine-

Emma cries. It's not really a cry, more like a little shout, and you pull away abruptly, giggly expression on your face.

"What's wrong baby girl." He hums, patting her back, tucking the blanket tighter around your arm and her body.

"I think she's upset she's going to have to share you. You're her favorite nowadays, you know." You tease, and his grin is so heavy on his face, but so light at the same time, something completely foreign and wild, the breadth of happiness something he hasn't felt in so many years. "And she's probably cold."

"Should we go inside?" He motions, somewhat relieved to get both of you out of the cold, and when you nod, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, squeezing gently.

"We should."

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Been thinking about why the argument that OFMD is inherently a bad show because it's based on historical slaveowners so often feels disingenuous to me as a person of color.

HUGE disclaimer up front: if you don't wanna fuck with the show because of that premise right out the gate, that's 100% valid and I completely get that. I'm not talking about that. What I'm specifically talking about is White fandom people in particular who argue that OFMD must be "problematic" because of this, especially when they say this as some kind of virtue-signalling trying to win points in fandom wars, stuff like that.

My big thing is that the resemblance the characters in OFMD have to their real-world namesakes begins and ends with having the same name. The show feels more to me like it's playing with the vague myths around these names, not the people themselves. Can you make an argument that they should have come up with original characters instead? Sure, but let's be honest, even people who study the irl counterparts have very little knowledge of their actual lives, and the average person has all but none. To add to that, this show has absolutely zero interest in historical accuracy; the moment they cast a Jewish-Polynesian man as Blackbeard that became obvious. No one is saying the real-life Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet were good people, least of all the show itself; the point is that OFMD's versions are basically original characters already.

It always feels like an incredibly disingenuous claim to parallel the show to Hamilton, because Hamilton both did care about historical accuracy and also brought up the slave trade. Hamilton is uncomfortable for so many poc because it writes poc into the story of otherwise very faithfully portrayed racists, colonizers, and slaveowners and just handwaves the racism. In OFMD, racism exists, but the stance is always explicitly anti-racist and anti-colonialist in a way that is just so fun to see (whom among us has not wished to skin a racist with a snail fork?).

The other thing that sticks for me is...there's an appropriate amount of slavery I want to see in my romcoms, and that amount is none. I am so sick of historical fiction where Black characters are only there for trauma porn about the horrors of the slave trade. You can make a legitimate argument that OFMD is handwavey about the slave trade, but I'd argue that including discussion of the slave trade is something that should be done with such incredible care that it would leave us with a show that can't really be a comedy at all anymore. OFMD's characters of color are allowed to be nuanced, complex characters with their own emotions, and it's incredibly refreshing to see, and I'd much rather have that than yet another historical fiction show where the only characters of color are only there to make White audiences feel virtuous about how sad they feel for them.

In conclusion, I guess: every yt person who makes this argument to win points in a fandom war owes me and every other fan of color a million dollars

#ofmd #our flag means death

[powderblueblood]

Ooooh lacy falls asleep watching a movie with eddie and he hears her having a sex dream

an: LMAO I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!! alright MINORS DNI i have no problem sending swarms of bees to your houses and also warning for somnophilia (kinda) and hands free ejaculation

first of all, who the hell falls asleep during the warriors?!

the gramercy riffs have just dedicated 'nowhere to run' by arnold mcculler to the warriors and shit is about to go down and your head is bobbing forward on eddie's worn-out couch.

he rolls his eyes at you-- really? "hey." a finger jabs at your knee from the opposite sagging end of the couch. "wakey-wakey. it's just about to get good over here."

"mm-- i'm awake!" you jump, but your eyes barely flicker back open, lashes all heavy and voice all loopy.

"tough day at the office?"

"you would not believe." he watches you struggle to muffle a yawn and pinch your cheeks to liven yourself up. "christmas returns. you remember all those old men that kept coming in and buying copies of the joy of sex?"

eddie guffaws lightly. "uh-huh."

"well, today i met their wives."

eddie mouths a little 'oh no!' and you chorus back 'oh yeah!' and even then, with your cheek shoved against the heel of your hand, he can see you're struggling for consciousness.

"lie down," he tells you. your brow furrows, because you're always more stubborn than tired.

"but the movie--" "fuck the movie. well, no, it's a great movie but just-- take a load off."

you sit up a touch straighter and eddie's about to give you shit about always being such a little pushback. but then you decide, "okay. just for a sec."

what he doesn't expect is for your head to land in his lap.

i mean, couches, opposite ends, you could have cozied yourself up against the slouching arm, but no. you decided to stretch yourself forward and settle with your head basically in his crotch. facing the ceiling. facing him.

eddie's breath shallows as you look up at him, your expression the closest thing to peaceful he's maybe ever seen you. you don't even have that little hitch between your eyebrows you sport like a uniform. looks like that night in his trailer, when he hid you away in his bedroom, which-- look, memory lane is not on the agenda for tonight.

"do me a favor?" you say, and your voice is this cracked little purr.

your hand blindly tugs at his, resting it on the crown of your head. oh. right. that hair petting thing. that thing he gets you to do when you're not being such a pill or he's worn you out from being such a pill. you're so nice with your fingers, see, pressing them against his scalp in a way that makes his whole body shiver. scratching a little sometimes-- a little too harsh sometimes, which makes him cringe away. but not because it hurts. because it... does other things.

eddie sighs, like it's really putting him out, like you do, and slides his fingers into your hair. but that's nothing compared to the sigh you let out.

fuck you. how can one little puff of air make him want to flip you over and mount you?

but he's trying to be normal about this-- he's trying so hard, because you're friends, right?

he doesn't think before he says it. "that feel good?"

"mm-hm," you mumble, hand sliding across your stomach, tucking under your breasts, getting comfortable. "mm-hm... careful of your rings, though."

"i'll be... i'll be careful."

"thanks, eddie." your fingers rise to brush against his tummy, some physical acknowledgement of gratitude that he's sure you mean as like, a nudge on the shoulder or a slap on the back or a high five or a fist bump but it sure as fuck doesn't feel like that.

especially when your fingers stay there, suspended in position as you've fallen asleep almost instantly. like stick a fork in you, you're done.

which is a relief. because less movement from you means less focus on you, which means eddie can pretend to watch the movie and pray away the halfsie that is nestled at the back of your skull.

problem is, you're awfully hard to stop looking at.

as your breathing deepens, his fingers slow and he just... watches you. the ascent and descent of your chest. the soft flicker behind your eyelids. the way your mouth parts ever-so-slightly. you're exhausted, but you're relaxed and he-- alright, fucking shoot him, he feels a little responsible for that? a little proud, okay? you're never relaxed. you're so high strung and sharp, but the edges of that seem to dull around him a touch. especially on nights like these.

eddie finally deludes himself into chilling out enough to tune back into the warriors, and then you make a sound.

it's a soft one, but enough to pucker your lips out of shape.

"ohmm."

eddie freezes, jaw winching. your fingers flick involuntarily against his stomach-- a twitch. a very dangerous twitch.

you make another noise and fuck him, if it doesn't sound like the first delicious note of a whimper. oh god.

and his fingers are still tangled in your hair. ruffling a little, breathing out heavily through his nose, he goes, "lace-- lacy," but it's zero response from you. just a hitch in those eyebrows.

and so lazily, so feline, he feels you sleepily nudge into his touch. if he didn't know any better (he doesn't, for the record, he's never known anything in his life other than this moment, if you really want to know), he'd think that was a sign to... keep going.

digits move against your scalp and he watches, unblinking, as your lips part. a sigh flies out, and not the kind you make when you're fed up with him, not the kind you make when you get a less-than-perfect grade or snag your tights or have a headache... not that kind.

different. sweet. the way he though you might sound, once all those defenses were smashed down. how much is it to rent a bulldozer.

his dumbass, age-old pajama pants are tightening by the second and they don't hide a fuckin' thing. how are you not feeling this.

well, whether you are or you aren't, he's still moving his fingers through your hair and you seem to like that and he's so, so happy, like he's so, so stoked but-- watching the breath hitch in your chest, watching the way your tits kind of slope out of the neckline of your shirt, watching goosebumps flash across your skin.

jesus christ, he can see your nipples through that thin little top you're wearing. tight and pointed, an illusion through the slinky cotton and binding of your bra.

eddie's teeth tighten into his bottom lip, his free hand gripping the back of the couch. this symphony of quiet, broken sounds coming out of you is a full extended play in and of itself, and he wants you on repeat. forever.

your hips lift the tiniest fraction. your fingers, still curled up by his belly, stretch and catch at his t-shirt.

"oh, fuck," eddie breathes, hoping he's quiet enough.

he's doing everything, and he means everything, not to move his hips even one iota even though his cock is crying out-- crying out for you, for your hands, for your mouth, for the crook of your fucking arm, anything so long as it's you.

"mmnm," you mumble, completely unaware, thighs rubbing off one another.

aching. dashing a wet spot right under your pretty, brilliant, terrifying, pretty head.

oh, fucking wake up-- feel me-- but don't, because what if the illusion shatters, what if the bubble bursts, what if you see him for the filthy fucking pervert that he is, getting off on watching you sleep. stroking your hair, making you make those noises-- the fucking sounds coming from those pouted, pillowy lips of yours.

he throbs, and your other hand jerks up to your chest, and his thumb strokes the right side of your skull and you moan. full-bodied. almost real.

it's so dangerous. he wants to turn you over and plunge his cock past your smartass mouth and weaken immediately because you're you and he's him and he will end up begging you to let him gloss your lips with his cum.

too much! way too much! eddie has to bite down on the shoulder of his own shirt as his body tenses, his balls tighten, his vision blacks out--

his eyes squeeze shut, hand freezing on your head. moisture spreads like guilt across his conscience.

fuck. fuck. fuckfuckfuck!

eddie's eyes snap open and he doesn't waste a second of time. he grabs you by the shoulders and shoves you up and away from him.

"wmwhatthefuck--" "--gotta piss. move."

but he sorely underestimates just how dizzy he's going to be when he stands up. he stumbles to the bathroom like keith richards getting off a ride at six flags.

"eddie?" you huskily mumble after him, and he's like, ready to kill you. ready to kill you. ready to give you a home lobotomy so you never say his name all needy and crackly and lovely like that ever again.

when he eventually slinks back, different pants on this time, you give them a pointed look. you're all criss-cross applesauce on the couch and he, like, fucking hates you and wants to carry you to his bedroom bridal style and tear off your panties in a single mouthful.

"costume change?" you ask.

"you snore like a coal miner, you know that?"

eddie's never wanted to fuck a coal miner before.

#powder room talk #deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth #hai brainrot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #so anyway i'm gonna eat some soup #l. doevski by powder

[chaos0pikachu]

Did you see the ending of Last Twilight? What did you think of it?

Personally I tuned into LT for 1 episode and it just didn't catch me at all but I'm nosy, so I've been reading the posts that cross my dash. I won't say I know everything but from the reactions of the people who have watched it - it's clear it's not good.

Then I came across a post that was smt like: We don't trust Jojo. We can't trust Aof smt smt. And that got me thinking.

You've said you don't like GMMTV shows, iirc. That they are more a product being sold than a story being told. And that's what I remembered reading the above post.

I also realized the last GMMTV BL to hold my interest was The Eclipse and even that went messy towards the end. Somehow GMMTV continues to make bad shows and continues to keep getting praise for it(until people realize this is a shit show from the get go). Though I am glad that people are recognizing how well made the BLs from other companies are. I think part of it has to do with being palatable. Even at it's worst Only Friends was nowhere near horny enough, like many other BLs, and that was GMMTV's horniest show. Also they put their stuff out on YouTube which makes it accessible to everyone. That ease / lack of barrier to entry means a majority of the fandom, especially new fans would end up at GMMTV. Then there is the fact that these shows just keep getting recommended. If someone made a shows to watch list - some GMMTV show is on there with a warning 'badly done ending'.

That makes me think GMMTV has gotten cocky. They want to pump out as much as they can and suck as much money as they can from the fans. I get running a business but it's detrimental to the company in the long run when none of it's BLs in a whole year managed to stick the landing. Perhaps they just don't care. It reminds me of corruption. Think of it in a metaphorical way. It's a short term solution that creates some money but will create long term problems. (Well I don't think GMMTV will be affected that much. It's just an interesting thought.)

So what are your thoughts?

~ Fork Around

omg is hating gmmtv shows becoming ✨my brand✨ cause that would be so fucking funny

for home players I don't actually "hate" gmmtv or the studios shows I just think fandom, at large, overhypes them to fuck when in reality all the ones I've watched I've found them to be thoroughly mediocre in regards to both narrative and film making.

To answer your first question, no I didn't watch Last Twilight, not out of any moral~~~ reason or whatever the hell, just cause I didn't want to. It didn't look interesting or appealing to me so I didn't bother. I'm picky about what things I watch b/c I'm hella fucking lazy lol am I gonna spend 12+ hours watching a mid show from gmmtv or am I gonna spend that same amount of time watching like, Marry My Husband? The latter, I'm choosing the latter. Hell, I'd rather watch Wing Chun which has less budget than Last Twilight does b/c Michelle Yeoh even at her earliest can act circles - also bonus Donnie Yen as her love interest!! - around any actor at gmmtv.

God people are gonna now think I think all the gmmtv actors can't act, I don't think that, the ones I've seen range from bad, to fine, to good. Calm down I'm not after your faves, and I can only name like four dudes that are signed at gmmtv anyway.

Then I came across a post that was smt like: We don't trust Jojo. We can't trust Aof smt smt. And that got me thinking.

man the folks in fandom who keep deifying directors should like, stop. Y'all are just setting yourselves up for disappointment. It's giving Joss Whedon's fanbase for real. Like Spielberg directed Schindler's List and Ready Player One okay? No one director bats a thousand every round.

Somehow GMMTV continues to make bad shows and continues to keep getting praise for it(until people realize this is a shit show from the get go). [...] I think part of it has to do with being palatable. Even at it's worst Only Friends was nowhere near horny enough, like many other BLs, and that was GMMTV's horniest show. Also they put their stuff out on YouTube which makes it accessible to everyone. That ease / lack of barrier to entry means a majority of the fandom, especially new fans would end up at GMMTV. Then there is the fact that these shows just keep getting recommended. If someone made a shows to watch list - some GMMTV show is on there with a warning 'badly done ending'.

Okay so like, I've had a lot of thoughts about this in general since gmmtv shows do make up a mass majority of The BL Fandom in general.

The way I would break this down is into factors:

Parasocial relationships (between the audience and actors)

Palatable Brand (queerness packaged in a non-threatening and non-challenging way with simple, low stakes stories typically about acceptance, and romance aka squeecore romances)

Accessibility (being available on youtube for free)

Easily consumable (b/c the shows are low stakes and non-challenging they're really easy binge watches, and since gmmtv puts out like 50 of these things a year fans just move on to the next one really quickly. Have y'all noticed that there's like, a general lack of fan works in BL fandom? It's usually just weekly episode meta posts and weekly gifsets but not a ton of fan art and fanfic is made for these shows)

Consuming vs Engaging (a trend I see in general in regards to BL fandom is this seemingly need to watch like as many BL shows as possible even moving on as quickly as possible to the next show instead of sitting with the show and building a community around said show, the only exceptions I've really seen to this is kinnporsche and slightly love in the air & bad buddy)

I'm gonna break these things down further underneath the cut:

Parasocial Relationships

"Parasocial relationships are one-sided relationships, where one person extends emotional energy, interest and time, and the other party, the persona, is completely unaware of the other’s existence. Parasocial relationships are most common with celebrities, organizations (such as sports teams) or television stars." (source)

Gmmtv is really, really good at creating para-social relationships between the audience and their actors. How many people were willing to give Ray the benefit of the doubt and write sad woobie meta after one singular episode of Only Friends simply b/c Khao was playing the char? How many people were rooting for SandRay and TopMew simply b/c they liked FirstKhao and ForceBook?

Not everyone, obviously, but from my observations on tumblr, twitter, reddit, and youtube, a fuckton did this. Even unintentionally, I saw fans do this. Like ignoring Ray calling Sand a whore, or just...everything about the clusterfuck that was Top and Mew's relationship. Double standards were abound in Only Friends fandom when it came to how fandom treated chars like Mew, Ray and even Sand (especially Ray) in comparison to Boston. Not gonna get into that here - wait for the podcast episode to drop y'all - but it's an example.

Branded couples are gmmtv's bread and butter when it comes to their BL. They sell sticker sheets and postcard packets like these actors are kpop idols. The gmmtv house party thing or whatever trends on twitter. The studio directly encourages fans to grow attached to their actors specifically so they foster a para-social attachment so they can sell you the next six ForceBook, or OffGun or whoever show with the same or slightly different concept - this time they're in an office au! this time they're in a coffee shop au! - its just RPF at this point with extra steps. Not everyone~ obviously but a good chunk of people watched Dangerous Romance b/c they liked Perth and whoever his partner is. A lot of people checked out Cooking Crush b/c of OffGun.

I'm not saying this is a "bad" thing, one of the reasons I'm interested in watching Abigail is b/c of Melissa Barrera. So like I do get it, but as much as I enjoy Melissa her character in Abigail might be like, badly written. Who knows. I really enjoy Angie Jolie but lord knows she's had some awful roles and films.

Because of this emphasis on branded couples and para-social relationships, this effects the quality of the story b/c not every actor they pick for whichever show is the right actor. Earth was the wrong actor to play Jim in Moonlight Chicken, he just was. When Wen says he "likes old people" or someone makes a boomer joke about Jim I'm like that's a 29 yr old man. It takes me directly out of the story. It's no different than Jennifer Lawance playing a 40+ yr old woman in American Hustle at like 26. It's ridiculous.

Why NOT pair Mix up with an older actor who could also better play a world weary older man? Because it's not about The Story, it's about how much merch gmmtv can sell you or how many tickets they can sell to an EarthMix fan meet.

Palatable Brand/Easily Consumable

Gonna get myself in trouble, look gmmtv is a mix of Disney for gays and CW for gays. All the shows from gmmtv I've watched have 1) followed a very basic romance arc throughline, 2) been overall non-challenging in terms of narrative ideas or risks and 3) are straightforward in both film making style and narrative direction.

I have not watched every single gmmtv show nor will I cause again I am fucking lazy, but out of the ones I have watched this is how I feel about them.

Their shows tend to be about self-acceptance and romance. Which is FINE. I'm not saying this is a bad thing!! It's just boring after the 65th show about the subject. Especially when gmmtv doesn't care enough to cast actors that are right for the roles and give their crew a second light or five more nickels to the budget.

Sorry but 2gether is a poorly filmed show. 1000 Stars, imo, is thoroughly overhyped for how poorly paced it is, and how thin the actual story is (wait for the podcast ep on THAT lmao)

But these shows are comfortable and comforting. This is a neutral statement. You can like squeecore shows all you want I'm just saying that's part of the mass appeal of them. They're like the MCU films, they suggest the ideas of leftish politics just enough but don't really say anything further then that. And at times even enforce some harmful rhetoric - like the slut shaming in only friends and this ending to last twilight. They're just comfortable, easy shows that people can watch First and Khao in, enjoy their scenes, and then immediately move on to the next First and Khao show - hope they play street racers next! - without much of a thought.

Because these shows are pretty "safe" in terms of the depiction of queerness and sex it also makes them more palatable to mass recommend. When people make lists for what to show non-BL watches I usually see a lot of these "palatable" shows, stuff with straightforward romances, a couple kisses, fade-to-black sex. It's less based on genre preferences and more based on "what's the least scary thing we can recommend to folks". You see ppl do this with anime too. Everything gets lumped together under the sub-genre which is a shame (and also feels a bit xenophobic but I ain't getting into that).

But like, if I knew my friend was into fantasy gay shit I'd recommend them like, The Sign for live action, Drug and Drop for manga, Revolutionary Girl Utena for anime, Word of Honor and/or Legend of Yunze for (censored but still super gay) live action. I haven't read any fantasy bl/gl manwha yet so drop recs if y'all have some.

Accessibility

This one is pretty self-explanatory. We've seen how accessibility can increase a shows reach from Avatar getting a resurgence when it appeared on Netflix, where as, a show like Playboyy is gonna have a smaller reach since it's mainly available on streaming platforms like Gaga.

Consuming vs Engaging

gmmtv puts out the most Thai BLs period. This is just a fact of the industry. When you put out that much the quality of your media is going to go down - again we saw this with Disney regarding Star Wars and the MCU - because the goal is to sell merch not the stories. (Disney gets most of their sales via their parks and merch not their box office returns).

I see a lot of Big BL Blogs recommending gmmtv shows all the time, and I see a lot of these blogs and the fandom at large consuming these shows rather than engaging with said show. It becomes more of a challenge to watch 49 BLs, writing a quick meta post/review on them, and then moving on to the next one. There's a lack of higher end engagement, people aren't sitting with these shows and exploring the nooks of them. The empty spaces, the potential.

Probably b/c there's not a lot TO explore in regards to gmmtv shows, they all end pretty definitively. The couple goes through their couple journey, end up together, usually with marriage or an engagement, either way the promise of being together forever. Which is, again, fine, there's just not a lot of meat there to explore further.

This isn't specific to gmmtv shows - Domundi's shows come to mind regarding this too like Naughty Babe ends very definitively - but people just move on to the next one. They write episode-to-episode meta, end of show meta/recaps, make some gifs, move on to the next thing. It doesn't help that a lot of characters in gmmtv shows are thin and their worlds are empty.

But I think what attracts people is the constant churn of content. gmmtv shows are like tiktok videos, you scroll, watch, scroll to the next. Keep things quick and moving.

Where is the BL fanfic???

Moonlight Chicken only has 389 once you remove 1000 Stars, My School President, and Thai RPF works. Only Friends has 809 but only after also removing Only Friends RPF, Thai Actor RPF, 1000 Stars, The Eclipse, The Eclipse RPF, and Moonlight Chicken. 1000 Stars only has 292 once you remove similar crossovers (and a lot of RPF). My School President is down to 609 fics once you get rid of all the RPF and crossovers.

For comparison, kinnporsche has 11,444 fics even with all the RPF and crossovers removed.

I'm losing steam here at the end. These are a lot of thoughts, and I know they're not 100% articulate. These are just some general feelings and observations regarding gmmtv shows and fandom.

I'm NOT saying all~~~~ gmmtv show "bad" - though most I do think on a technical level are filmed very averagely with only MLC and Not Me breaking any molds - nor is anyone "wrong" or "bad" for liking idk Cooking Crush or Cherry Magic. I don't care like what you like bro.

I do think fandom overall overhypes gmmtv shows for a lot of factors - whether it's b/c they like the actors and feel that para-social pull towards them, or b/c they just like the squeecore comfort of these shows, or some mix of both - I think fandom would have an easier time if they just treated gmmtv shows are they are - average.

It's fine to be average and made for mass consumption. I like cheetos too dude. These shows don't have to be the peak of queer cinema to be valid, or for you to be "valid" for liking them. Why do any of us need to be "valid" in terms of the media we engage with? Who fucking cares? Like what you like, it doesn't have to be The Best Thing To Ever Gay for you to be valid for liking it. It doesn't have to "be important" either it can be gushers or twizzlers eat your snacks and enjoy life.

Just stop telling me it's a 4 star steak dinner or getting mad when you're charged 60 dollars for gushers.

#chaos pikachu speaks #gmmtv series #bl drama #last twilight #fuck this was a long ass post #fucking a #will this get me kicked out of fandom? #idk i'm living laughing loving over here

[fate-touched]

[audio description: a short song played on piano with a battering rhythm that drops out entirely between verses. it has an indignant, resentful, yet thoughtful mood. lyrics transcribed below. end ad]

listen on soundcloud

lyrics:

hand me the knife, babe I'm wailing hungry how many times will you walk away from me? I've left the door unlocked I, I've left the porch light on

disappeared like tissue paper held up to the sun my heart begun, my hands begun your mouth rejected every one oh, stick a fork in me, I'm done oh, stick a fork in me, I'm done

you were empty I would've filled you up I was moving you never sat still enough one day you're gonna see the wreck you made of me one day you're gonna feel so fucking guilty

and when you're breaking down asking who's gonna love you now look down at your empty plate and remember all the meals you turned away

I plunge right toward the puncturing I hate the white november brings I see the night in everything I see your bite in everything

#fate touched #album: arbor

[clydiepie]

can I request some hcs of clyde with a reader who loves to draw him? they always doodle him in their sketchbook, in the corner of their notes, etc etc. ty!

Clyde x reader who likes to draw!

Thank you so much to everyone that has sent me requests! I will try to do them as fast as I can! I really liked this one (y'all know I love my Clyde) so I hope you like it! I used she/her pronouns since you didn't specify I hope that's okay!

Clyde Donovan x reader who liked to draw (pre-existing relationship)

She/her pronouns

baby boy clyde<3

fluffy!

cw: none!

Clyde knew you loved to draw

Whenever the two of you were together you normally had your sketchbook in hand

You were always pretty private about what you drew and you never wanted him to see, even though he was so curious

Even in class you constantly doodle on the pages of your notebook not really paying a lot of attention.

Cylde would notice you constantly stealing glances at him during the lecture but he thought it was nothing

At lunch, you sat with Clyde and his friends Craig and Tweek

"Hey babe you seemed a little distracted during class, so I got Kyle to send me a copy of his notes for you." Clyde smiled shoving a forkful of food in his mouth and chewing contently

You blushed remembering what had captured your attention during class

"Oh you didn't have to do that, I appreciate it though" You smile scooting closer to him at the lunch table

Clyde just hummed in contentment as he wrapped a strong arm around your waist

After your last class was done you met Clyde by your locker where he always waited for you

You gathered your things and Clyde wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you both walked toward the front doors

But just before you could reach the door Butters came running around the corner and knocked your books out of your hands making papers fly everywhere.

Butters starts to profusely apologize rambling on about how Cartman needed him quickly for some scheme

You tell him it's no worries as you bend over to collect your things

You look down at the ground to see Clyde has already started to gather the papers that had flown every which way

You see his face turn a dark shade of red as he examines a particular piece of paper. the one you just so happened to be doodling on in class

He looks up at your embarrassed face and asks "Is this me?"

"Ha um yeah.." you explain shyly as you rub the back of your neck

He calmly stands up and folds the paper into a square and sticks it in his pocket

Before you can ask what he was doing he spoke up again

"I'm keeping this, I hope you don't mind." he smiles and hands you all the other paper he gathered

"You don't think it's weird." you laugh

"Not at all, I think it's cute you're obsessed with me." He smirks putting his hands on your waist and drawing you in close

"Don't let this go to your head." you giggle

"Too late." he mumbles before pulling you in for a kiss

I also think after his he would want to look at your art all the time

Like all of it even the stuff not about him or stuff you think is "bad"

He is without a doubt your number 1 fan for sure

I can imagine him standing in a Micheals craft sore for an hour trying to pick out a good gift for you

"Fine tip? what does that even mean?" he would mumble to himself

He also defiantly brags to all his friends about your talent

"Guys Y/N drew this sketch yesterday, isn't she so talented?' he would gush

He is definitely the type to go behind your back and swipe some pieces to put in his locker

In between classes, he liked a little reminder of you to look at (but when you found out he had stolen your art you defiantly let him have it)

One day he was at his locker with the boys and Cartman had dared to make a comment about the goofy sketch you had made for fun taped up in Clyde's locker

"Dude, what is that?" Cartman laughed pointing at the picture

"Y/N drew that for me so shut the fuck me." Clyde barked

On your anniversary Clyde tried his hardest to draw something nice for you, he tried to draw the two of you together on your first date.

"Oh it's so cute...what is it?" you sheepishly laughed

"It's us! can't you tell?" he huffed, his face as red as his coat

"Ohhhh I see it now." you smile at him, taking his hand in yours

After that, he vowed to take an art class next year so maybe one day he could draw you something not so shitty

If any of your art was ever displayed anywhere Clyde would hype you up to no end

"My girlfriend is so talented." he beamed at you with pride looking at a piece you made hung up

"Clyde it's just on your fridge." you laughed

"Hey, that's a place of honor babe."

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

I hope you liked that! I kinda got carried away but I just liked his prompt so much!!! Have a great day!!!

-M<3

#south park x reader #south park x y/n #south park clyde #clyde donovan x reader #clyde donovan

[evelhak]

Hi ! Can you do Akashi for the character opinion bingo please ?

For sure. ✨

*I think any character I'm writing a more than 100 000 word fic about classifies as me not being completely normal about them.

*I have Akashi's life pretty much planned out. Loosely, I'm sure his own plan is way more detailed but I bet I can change it. : D

*I don't think I'm projecting on Akashi, but I can see how I could end up doing it once I get into his story deeper than I have yet, because we have a couple of huge things in common despite having quite different personalities. Also he reminds me of an old friend. Projection could even be healthy but I try to avoid it because I want to write stories from an observer perspective, it's more about "here you are" than "here I am" for me, so I will have to be conscious of these things when I get deeper into Akashi's psyche.

*I do have a soft spot for Akashi. I don't gloss over his mistakes but I have a lot of sympathy for him.

*The reason that lead me to develop such an attachment to Akashi was initially that he was my girlfriend's (now ex's) favourite character.

*Definitely not everyone is actually wrong about him, or mean, the fandom left on Tumblr now generally has common sense but I remember when every single Akashi fic seemed to be about him being a sadist or something. I get that some of them were born out of kink, which obviously isn't wrong, and whether it's kink or not, I don't think there's anything wrong with essentially possessing a character with an idea that distantly resembles one or two things they have done, it's all morally neutral, it's just not my thing so it was the overwhelming amount of that stuff that lead me to develop so strong and detailed headcanons of my own. I'm not a fan of devil or angel type depictions of Akashi.

*I basically never ignore canon but sometimes when something was depicted in it in a way that I just can't stomach and accept into my headworld in that way, I purposefully reinterpret those things in canon in a way that doesn't change the surface level of it but changes the meaning of it in a way that brings depth to the character/narrative and I'm definitely doing some of that with a couple of things about Akashi's mental health.

*I really want to write about healing for Akashi and not invite more tragedy into his life for a long time.

*I fuck with his aesthetic meaning I troll him. I will put him in situations where he looks the most pompous ever doing something hilariously normal. I will stick him in Maji Burger eating a burger with a knife and fork because it simply looks hilarious to me.

#character bingo #akashi #knb

[yangsbandana]

When everyone inevitably gets new outfits presumably for the Vacuo arc I will go fucking feral if Blake’s has more yellow in it particularly if she ends up with a yellow bandana to match the purple one Yang has or!! shit!!! if the orange bandana Yang’s current outfit has makes its way to Blake’s Vacuo outfit. That’ll be it for me. Stick me with a fork because I am DONE

i'm team golden piercings in her ears all the way + some kind of bandana. a gold one would match yang's aura, but there would also be something sweet about blake having an orange one, given that yang has always worn some kind of orange,,, thing (looking at you v4-v6),,,, around her neck.

BUT WHATEVER GAY SHIT THEY WEAR--

they are absolutely going to reprise the 'not used to the new hair yet' scene. with blake thirsting after yang's new fit. i guarantee it. i feel it in my bones.

#i do have beebandanas saved as a url in case they do that with the bandanas btw #though idk if i could ever really give up yangsbandana it's a part of me now #alskjdf #bumbleby #em answers #anon

[vivisection-and-vampyrism]

Home Sweet Home part six

Content Warnings: Abusive Relationship, Stockholm Syndrome, Drug Use, Blood Drinking, Fictional Bigotry, Brief Homophobic Language, Discussion of Trauma Including: Sexual, Religious, Emotional, and Physical Abuse, Past Injury/Amputation, Vampire Taxidermy, Vampire Whumpee, Human Whumper

Note: Home Sweet Home Wednesdays are back on! Have some, um, Falkner being a creep.

After all its stress over trying to win over Falkner's newest captives while still staying the favorite, October felt it deserved some reward for its trouble.

Thankfully, Falkner was much in the same mind, and decided this was a good evening to cuddle and watch a movie.

They curled up on the sofa together, Van Helsing (2004) playing at a low volume on their television. It was one of their favorite movies, despite the wild inaccuracies in how it portrayed vampires. Mostly because it was gory bisexual eye candy filled to the brim with murder, cleavage, and supposedly straight characters who acted like utter fags.

Falkner undid the brace of his prosthetic leg and set the false limb aside. He rubbed the spot where it attached, over where his knee used to be, a look of pain etched on his face.

"Are your ghost pains screwing you up again?" October asked, pretending to be concerned. It didn't really understand how an amputated limb could still cause pain, especially with the quality of modern medical care.

"They always are," Falkner groaned. "That mother fucking leech…"

October's mouth quirked a small smile. "If I had been that vampire, I would have killed you outright. None of this crushing every bone in your leg business."

Falkner offered the stuffed head above his mantelpiece a sideways glance, more amused than pained now. "Then you're smarter than he was, my angel."

"Not smart enough." October laid its head on Falkner's lap, baring its throat in a submissive gesture. "Or else I wouldn't be here, now would I?"

"You still don't trust me, angel?" Falkner ran his fingers through October's purple hair, as though it were some kind of lap cat. "I'm hurt. And after all I've done for you…"

October knew Falkner was teasing, or else it wouldn't dare respond honestly. But this was all part of their little game. Going back and forth verbally for awhile, neither of them actually caring for the movie they had seen thirty times over.

"Yes," October drawled. "Because holding me captive and sticking me in the sun anytime I complained was sure to earn you my trust. How silly of me."

"Your complaining often consisted of trying to break my neck. So I think my methods of self defense against an apex predator such as yourself were justified."

"Oh yes, totally justified. The same way that going weeks between feeding me and only allowing it when you need a hit of vampire venom is."

"It's your lucky day, then. Because I'm in need of some pain relief, angel."

Falkner scratched October behind its ears, eliciting a purr. He had always enjoyed the sound. A low rumble from deep inside October's chest, rising and falling along with its breathing. So much like a domestic cat.

"What, no more complaints?" Falkner asked. "Is the promise of blood enough to stopper that vicious forked tongue of yours? And here I was beginning to enjoy our little spat."

"Oh, I have plenty more to complain about." October grinned at him. "You're a cruel master, and it can't be denied."

"Ah, so the vampire with the blood of thousands on its pretty little hands thinks I'm the cruel one. At least I let you live. You can't say the same of your victims."

"Harsh words, considering the only reason you didn't crop off my head and stick it on your walk was because you liked keeping me chained to your bed. Admit it, you found raping a vampire more thrilling than desecrating a corpse."

"And lucky for me," Falkner said, trailing his fingertips over October's jawline, "I managed to capture the most beautiful vampire I've ever seen… What hunter wouldn't want you chained to his bed? I know none of my friends ever missed out on an opportunity to get you in such a vulnerable position."

There was a time when those words would have disgusted October. When it would have considered it a humiliation to be defeated and dishonored by a human.

But now its main coping mechanism was to find whatever anjoyment that it could, blocking out natural shame or fear. The silver collar around its neck was enough of a reminder to behave.

No chains necessary. Not anymore.

"And who can blame them?" it asked silkily. "As you can tell, I'm incredibly attractive. But are you sure that's a good enough excuse to take me thrashing and screaming? Why, if I were human, I doubt your excuses would hold up in court."

"Shame you aren't. After all, vampires aren't legally recognized as people. Even animal cruelty laws don't apply. You used your immunity from our laws for so long, getting away with murdering and tormenting innocent humans… How does it feel to be on the other side of the issue?"

October couldn't help but laugh. Maybe this really was some kind of retribution. After all, the truly evil were supposed to enjoy full sinful lives, that way they could be punished by God to the fullest extent possible.

Only the good died young, and October had gotten very old indeed.

But who could have guessed that it would have ended up here? Centuries ago, when it was hung by a Christian mob for the sin of having been born. Ishraq, it had been called back then. A dhampir conceived of rape who never had a chance.

Falkner was right. He had to be. October's life had always gone in cycles of suffering then lashing out and inflicting suffering on others.

Maybe it had never crawled out of its shallow grave to enact its revenge on its murderers.

Maybe this was hell.

"You win," it said, faking light heartedness as it sat up and threw its arms around Falkner's shoulders. "My arguments have run out. You may now enjoy your two hours of peace before I concoct some new ones."

"Perfect timing. I have a better use for your mouth…" Falkner ran his thumb over October's lip. "Bite me."

October didn't need to be told twice. It sunk its fangs deep into Falkner's wrist, and released a good strong dose of venom as soon as the taste of blood met its tongue.

Falkner let out a contented sigh, leaning back on the couch. He slowly stroked October's hair as it fed.

After weeks of starvation, it took all its self control not to drain Falkner dry. But it was a good pet. And good pets didn't murder their owners while being shown a kindness.

Their symbiotic relationship favored him in so many ways, and drug induced euphoria was one of them, even if it meant waking up dizzy from blood loss.

Taglist: @sulnusoup13 @heavenlyeden @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @excessive-vampires @pigeonwhumps @foresttheblep

#hart rambles #home sweet home #whump #pet whump #vampire whump #whump writing #Angst #Emotional whump #Vampire whumpee #Human whumper #Abuse #Whump writing #Whump series

[theewokingdead]

Dinner Conversation - Benergy Universe

Pairing: Benny Miller x wife!Reader Summary: Dinner conversation is rarely ever dull when married to Benny, and sometimes it causes your children to learn a new word. Word Count: 700+ Rating: No rating but my blog is 18+ Warnings: First person POV, Language Notes: Inspired by an actual conversation that happened at the dinner table. This is what happens when your husband's mouth moves faster than his brain.

Follow @theewokingdeadwrites to be notified when I post new fics.

Main Masterlist | Benergy Series Masterlist

When we first started discussing our future, Benny and I vowed that no matter how busy our lives got, we would have dinner together every night as a family. That feels like eons ago, but even as our family grew from just the two of us to three of us to now four of us, we’ve done a good job at sticking to our word. Supposedly, families who dine together are happier, and it supposedly increases a child’s vocabulary while teaching them to eat healthier.

Most days I can agree with that. Other days I think it’s bullshit.

Dinner with children can be exhausting. Today is one of those days. After a long day, I’m tapped out, and each loud clank and scrape of silverware on the plates makes my head feel like it’s going to explode. Our two-year-old, Sophie, keeps bouncing around in her seat like she hasn’t been a tired, whiny butthead all day. Her little hands keep busy as she takes small portions and fast choppy bites, sounds of pleasure escaping her mouth as she stands on her chair and rubs her tummy while chew. Lindsay, the five-year-old, is sitting with her elbow on the table, a fist resting on her cheek, poking and prodding at the food on her plate as if it's the most repulsive thing she’s ever seen, as if she hadn't eaten the same meal last week.

“Lindsay, baby, you gotta eat,” Benny gently insists, seeing I’m not at all in the mood to parent at the moment.

“I just want to watch my tablet,” she grumbles in reply.

“What did Mommy say?” he questions.

Lindsay looks up at me with a sly smile on her face. “Umm….” It’s clear she’s trying to pretend she hasn’t asked for her tablet a hundred times today, particularly that I haven’t given her the same answer every single time.

“You can have it after dinner,” Benny reminds her.

“Ugh!” Lindsay groans dramatically, making me wonder if she’s five or fifteen.

“Just eat your dinner,” I beg, not in the mood to negotiate. Why do kids make eating is so damn difficult?

“But I don’t want to.”

I exhale loudly, trying to keep calm. “Fine. No tablet tonight then.”

“But Mom!”

“Literally all you have to do is eat some food,” I say, clearly annoyed. “Maybe while you’re at it you can solve world hunger and find the cure for cancer. Is it really that hard?”

Lindsay opens her mouth to protest, but Benny decides to chime in. “Yeah. And find mommy’s g-spot too.”

My eyes immediately snap across the table to my husband, who’s now shoving food in his mouth, clearly in an attempt to hide a proud smile. I should never be surprised at the shit that spews out of his mouth sometimes, yet I always am. I'm somewhere between shocked he said that in front of the kids and wanting to laugh.

“What the fuck, Benny!”

Despite trying to suppress his laughter, he can no longer hide his pride, his bright blue eyes shining.

“First of all”-I sassily point my fork at him- “you damn well know that you know where that is, so don’t sit there and act like it’s one of life’s greatest unsolved mysteries.”

The corners of his lips curl into a smirk. Yeah, he can’t deny that.

“Second of all, have fun explaining what you just said to our daughter.”

“What is it?” Lindsay questions, and I just know we’re fucked. Thankfully, she seems to have forgotten the word. But we vowed to be transparent with our kids, to always try to answer their questions as age-appropriately as possible. However, explaining what a g-spot is to our five-year-old at the dinner table was not something I ever expected. Being married to Benny, I really shouldn’t be so surprised.

“Is that in your butt?”

“Yes,” I immediately answer, glaring at Benny. Am I about to give this man a taste of his own medicine? Absolutely. “Well, Daddy’s butt at least.”

Benny’s face immediately flushes red, flustered to the point that he doesn’t dare look into my eyes, his gaze dropping down to his plate instead. Finally, I’ve managed to say something that renders him speechless, which is a very rare feat.

“Eww! Daddy’s got a stinky butt!” Sophie squeals, playfully holding her nose.

Immediately, a loud laugh escapes my lips, Sophie and Lindsay joining with innocent giggles. Meanwhile, in an effort to hide his shame and laughter, Benny hangs his head and covers his face with a hand.

Thank fuck the conversation flows back to something more appropriate for the dinner table. Maybe experts weren’t completely wrong about family dinners increasing a child’s vocabulary. I just don't think that's what they meant.

#benny miller #benny miller fanfic #benny miller x reader #benny miller fanfiction #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fan fiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund character fanfic #garrett hedlund fanfiction #benergy universe #catie writes

[wanderingpages]

.・。.・゜Dark AU ゜・。.

V E R S I O N 2

“It’s you that I’ve been thinking about and I shouldn’t be. You’re cattle waiting for slaughter, baby.”

TFOTA // All Human // AU : Cardan tries not to lust after the girl he's supposed to kill.

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Drugs, Sex, Murder/Talks of murder, Sexual/Physical Assault.

Cardan's POV

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I lean back to check it, only to see Madoc's text of the day. He's starting early, I note idly, glancing at the time. It’s near four in the morning. I clear the notification and slide the phone back into my pocket. I’m sure if I ignore him long enough, he’ll show his ugly mug soon, so that I can gladly stick a fork in his hand.

“Lollipop?” I glance up to Jude, her head is lolled against the chair, asking about the notification. When she yawns, she doesn’t try to hide it like she’d done before in the past few hours. She even lets out a groan and sigh, twitching her nose from side to side, like a witch from a 60’s sitcom I’ve seen before. The nostalgia makes my chest hurt. I lean my head against the wall, watching her watch me, both of us a sad mirror of each other; droopy eyes, hair askew, scratches and marks and someone else’ blood dried on us. Probably still high from whatever Ghost laced in his weed. She smiles weakly and I wonder what she’s thinking. I wonder if she knows what I'm thinking. Despite her not only recalling Lolli’s name, but mentioning my ex sometime before, I still find myself thinking about my head between her thighs.

“Yeah,” I lie. “Want to see? She’s got bright blue hair and these pretty piercings I think you’d do well to reference on your next trip here,” if I’m sardonic, I’m too tired to care as I gesture lazily to the parlor. “I’m an exceptional piercer,” I grin. Jude keeps her eye contact with me, but flexes her jaw and shivers all the same.

“Liar,” she whispers, “you’re a very bad liar.” I think it’s rich coming from her, but she’s right. I don’t usually lie, I’m just usually good at skirting around the truth. Still, I find myself at a loss of words to come up with when she’s around. “It wasn’t her.”

I shrug, “they all blur together sometimes,” and that is quite the truth, but I can only give Jude half of it. “And yet…” I glance upward, behind her, where the wall splinters around the bullet embedded there. I rub at my thumb, partially inked and wounded, liking the ache that keeps me aware that I’m still alive. “There’s just something about Lolli,” my smile feels as sleazy as I sound. “She’s most definitely earned her name.” When I look back to Jude, I try to ignore the wounded look she gives me. Tied to a chair with a bullet wound in her arm, but it’s what I say about an earlier hookup that reminds her she should be very wary of me. “Tasted just as sweet.”

“Fuck you,” she tells me, straightening her head against the chair. She looks up at the light. “You’re so full of shit,” she mumbles boldly. “Wrong shade of brown,” she recalls, tone mocking brave for the position she’s in. “Why do you tell me these things?”

Instead of reminding her that she’s the one who’s brought it up, I tell her, “I should have taken you to Dain yesterday. I think that would have been the best choice to have you around people. I don’t think I’m supposed to torture you, if I’m honest. But I’ve been kind of itching to.”

She might have caught the grin I’m sporting, the most genuine one of the night, because she says, “You’re fucking crazy.”

“You’re the crazy one,” I remind her as I walk past the chair, so annoyed at the bullet hole, that I take a framed painting and switch it over to cover up the impurity.

“And trust me,” I turn to the chair, lean on it while my hand finds the lever underneath. She looks up at me startled, and lets out a yelp when the chair goes back. She’s laying down beneath me, not unsimilar to the night we met. “You’d know when I’m fucking you.”  Her cheeks get warm, but her mind is elsewhere. I wonder if she’s thinking she should have kept her distance the night of the party. She should be aware by now, though, being tied up beneath me is just where she’d end up anyways. There are no stars in here to steal her attention this time, just me. She’s still pretty to me, but has her perception of me changed yet? “You should probably go to sleep,” I whisper. “You have an Econ test, don’t you?”

She blinks and I lift up, heading for the lights. “You… you messed up the aesthetic,” she points out, twisting her head slightly, noting the lack of symmetry in the array of photos on the wall now. “You’re letting me go to classes tomorrow?” she questions as an afterthought. “By myself?”

“Do you want to join a cult instead?” I’m mostly serious. She blinks, confused, right before I flick the lights off. Her Bambi eyes are starting to unnerve me again. Still, I feel her gaze in the darkness and it unnerves me just how fast her eyes not only have adjusted, but how intensely she’s staring at me. It’s all these subtle things that grow into something bigger. Her instincts are trained to adapt and maybe even kill if she can really help it.

“I thought I jumped through conversations half in my head,” she mumbles, quietly. Its like the darkness has blanketed us in secrecy. “Are you in a cult? Is this why you’re called King? What are you? The Priest?”

“Father this, Father that? I think I much prefer ‘Daddy’ then, no?” she lets out a noise, something like a gasp and a squeak. “Maybe that would make you my virgin sacrifice, right?” I’m teasing because I don’t really want to get into why Mayor Eldred was actually funding Church of Mab, a front for a cult pushing heroin, nor do I want to then explain why I have any rights to that signet on any document. In truth, Ghost could type some shit up that would exempt her from classes, and would cover some bases in regards to her suddenly not showing up. Its far more common, especially in Elfhame’s College Town, than anyone really suspects, but professors and school boards keep tight lips over it. Mayor Eldred also funds the university – or his estate does, at least. The elite, tenured professors are more than aware, possibly even part of the cult in question. No one would bat an eye at a young college student suddenly dropping out to find God and start an MLM scheme on heroin disguised as the body and blood of The Great Mab herself.

“How would that work,” Jude pulls me from thoughts, “If I’m not a virgin?”

I grin, despite myself, and we go back to square one, staring at each other.

Neither of us get sleep, and maybe that’s a good thing, seeing as not an hour later, Valerian is coming through the door, turning on the lights. We blink to adjust to the brightness, but Valerian’s ensemble of white on white on white doesn’t help. He looks like the Cult Leader’s Doctor. Even Jude winces when he sets a bag on the counter and pulls out medical tools. He’s quiet, as per usual, reeking of coffee so strong it makes my stomach churn. I’m absolutely starving and all I have is diet coke in the minifridge and melted ice cream that’s been out since yesterday, marinating in Ghost and Jude’s hotboxing.

He cuts Jude from her restraints then cleans and wraps the fresh wounds on her wrists before checking the stitches he’d given her yesterday. I check my messages, finding one from Dain that lets me know Jude’s mansion is all pristine.

Yesterday, when I had left, I ended up in Dain’s bar. Not something he’s built from the ground up, but something he just happens to own 51% of, much to the actual owner’s chagrin. He brings in customers, shady as they are, but she gets revenue and Dain has yet another place to hide from his wife. He’s not too happy with my using his tattoo shop as a pseudo torture dungeon again, but he’s a little amused at the run down I’d given him – in which my boss has me babysitting someone on the top of a hitlist he failed to mention. Not just babysitting, but befriending as well.

“This kind of sounds like Gen’s play at matchmaking. I mean, it’s a bit poetic if I think about it hard enough.” Dain pointed this out when I explained the bit about getting to know her as organically as possible. “That being said, I’m against Stockholm Syndrome.” His words either coincide or completely deviates from the text I had gotten from Madoc then. “please make sure she trusts you.” I had left him on read but duly noted Madoc’s use of the word ‘please.’ “Anyways,” Dain said just as Lollipop came to introduce herself. “It sounds like a bodyguard job, not a dungeon master one.” Looking at Madoc’s text now, I’m starting to wonder what game he's playing at.

“What’s in that,” Jude asks and when I look up from my phone, Valerian is gently rubbing a cream on to her skin.

“Bunch of good stuff, mixed with more good stuff,” he answers her, voice sounding hoarser than usual. I’m guessing it’s a low dosage of fentanyl and some powdered ibuprofen he stole from his night job as the resident mortician or something at that hospital.

“Right,” Jude tells him. “Of course. How could I have not known?” her wit is dry this morning. He ignores her and helps her up.

Valerian then reaches into his big bag of everything and pulls out another bag, clothes and a pair of sneakers that I hope to Mab he didn’t steal from one of his bodies being refrigerated. “It’s clean,” he tells her and I grimace, wondering why the hell I’m thinking about Mab so much today.

Jude looks to me and I shrug, telling her, “He is the cleanest person I know.”

“Ghost got it from your house,” he further explains and lets go of her hands. She sways a little, most definitely resembling Bambi now. When she loses her center of balance, trying to test out the kinks in her arms, my hands are on her waists instinctively. I like that her breath catches and she doesn’t scramble away from me like I’m betting her instincts are telling her to.  

“5 seconds,” she whispers as I set her straight. I give her a questioning look and she explains, dazed, “I was somewhere else.” I start to wonder if Valerian actually had more then fentanyl in his concoction and if its already made its way through her blood stream.

“Where were you, then?”

I don’t expect her to answer, “On the bed in my room.” Her skin ignites; I'm guessing she hadn’t really expected to respond.

“Is that where you want me, princess?” She purses her lips and turns brusquely, following Valerian who had been waiting by the door that leads into the house.

He opens the door for us and if she’s asking why there’s a giant portrait of the late mayor on the wall, I gently guide her to the half bathroom and disregard the question.

I turn to find Valerian a few feet behind me, sanitizing his hand and spraying some disinfectant on his bag. “How’s Balekin doing?”

“Better,” he says solemnly. “I will pray for his speedy demise.” He’s absolutely serious about that too. “Do you want me to switch his IV bag?” I shake my head, but he knows the thought has crossed my mind. We’re just in sync like that. He hands me a small bag of travel sized toiletries and a small phone I'm guessing Ghost had fixed up for her. Valerian leaves through the back door and I pass the bag over to Jude when the bathroom door opens. She looks at me panicked, glances at the bag confused, grabs it and shuts the door before opening it again five minutes later.

“What?” I ask her.

“I can’t remember anything,” her furrowed brows and trembling lips make me uncomfortable. “I don’t remember what the midterm is going to be about!”

.

I don’t know why I did it – why I decided it would be a good idea to not only escort her to class, but sit right beside her in the crowded lecture hall. I must be a glutton for punishment. I angrily fill out the sheet that had been handed to me, cosplaying as someone who knows Econ so well, I didn’t even have to study. When I glance over to her, she winces as she moves her arm. Go figure, it’s her dominant hand that was wounded. I make a note to tell Valerian to mix some stronger concoction, maybe with morphine instead. When she rubs at her wrist, I gather it’s a habit she’s just initialized, an anxiety induced action when she doesn’t know the answer to her exam questions.

I look over at the students around me and I want to bang my head against the fucking wall. There’s a reason I dropped out of school. Asha couldn’t be bothered to care if I even had a pencil to my name, and then I couldn’t be bothered to worry about school work and trying to survive that drug den at the same time. Asha was good for keeping up a façade, because it made no sense that she’d ever have credentials for fostering if she wasn’t smart enough to play the system. From shitty foster home to shitty foster home, Asha’s was by far the worst of it. I hadn’t been the only kid in the house, but I never saw anyone more than a few months. For some reason, Asha kept me much longer than the rest. I didn’t know who’s punishment was worse, at the time.

When Asha was cracked out, she was often kind to me, in a desperate sort of way. It was when she was sober that I’d suffer the brunt of her emotions, whether it was a slap to the face, a cigarette to my skin or a minute alone in the room with her husband, I thought, it would get better if I held out, if she had her needle filled with special liquid, she’d love me and save me. I used to pray every night she’d get another delivery of heroine until the cost of it started to become…me. One day, when I realized nothing in the weathered bible I kept under my bed would ever save me, I left all the gas burners running and got the fuck out. To my dismay, only my foster dad and his fuck buddy of the day had died. Asha managed to get away from the fire, and it turned out that foster Daddy had one hell of a life insurance plan.

Before Asha could even be investigated properly about the suspicious death, she fucked her lawyer right past a get out of jail free card and straight into unholy matrimony. Maybe a blessing, had they found something that she could have spun to blame on me and get me sent to Juvie. Still, that left me homeless at 14 and with a complex so severe, it was no wonder when Madoc showed up in my life, I clung to him.

I hadn’t spent half my life learning Geometry and Hamlet, but I picked up a few tips on chemical compounds and set Asha’s fancy new house on fire years later when I’d reunite with Mommy dearest. I made sure she knew who was slitting her throat that night. I wanted her looking into my eyes, begging me for mercy. “I am the monster you created.” I couldn’t find God, so I became one, and I took her life like it was my right.

My jaw clenches so tight that my teeth ache. The pencil in my hand snaps and Jude looks over at me like I'm being a nuisance. and I stare back, daring her to say something in the way too quiet room filled with seventy more students cheating on this stupid test.  She breaks first and I go over the sheet I was handed. I let out a sigh when I realize I now all the answers to these bullshit theoreticals. I fill out the Scantron with a heavy hand, annoyed that I retained information from the few times Eldred actually spoke to me. Or, spoke near me.

When her professor calls time, I switch our papers, dropping Jude’s exam into her open bag and passing mine forward instead. Her eyes are wide but before she can comment, I grab her bag and her hand, pulling her to the exit, shoving past people already complaining about questions.

“What the fuck?” She asks and I tug her closer to my side, bringing my arm around her shoulder. To keep her from running off. “You can’t just do that, Cardan!”

I look down at her, “Why not?”

“It’s cheating!” I almost laugh at her. It’s cheating. She’s got a hit out on her and her babysitter is the fucking Grim Reaper on a good day. But, yeah, she’s worried about cheating.

“You were the only one pulling answers out of your ass, baby girl.” She blinks up at me and I roll my eyes, “Everyone had their phones out.”

Her cheeks tint and her nose scrunches like the little witch she is, and like the unbelievably weak person that I am, I’m entranced. She wants to argue but finally she settles on, “How do you even know about economic growth and the business cycle?”

I find that I don’t want to tell her, don’t want her to know how wacked my entire history is, but I want to give her something she can ponder on, something she’d no doubt use to figure out me out soon enough. “Do you know why they call me King?”

“Not at all – it’s not like I’ve been asking since you kidnapped me yesterday and held me hostage until the ass crack of dawn,” she mutters. I squeeze her shoulder in warning. She’s mouthy, but too ballsy for her own good.

“It’s because of who my dad is.”

“If that’s how it works,” she snorts, “I’d be a queen with who my dad is.”

“Or a saint,” I throw out, guessing at missing puzzles pieces. She won’t say it, maybe she thinks I already know, but it’s all I’ve been thinking about since yesterday. I’m nearly certain I know who her dad is now. A cross references with only a handful of people with the last name Duarte, and the only two people funding a certain summer camp, I’m starting to realize just how much shit Madoc has gotten me into. If my dad had been funding The Church, her dad was the head of it.

She changes the subject, doesn’t want to acknowledge the jab, and says, “Wouldn’t that make you a prince then?”

I grin, grimly, leading her just off campus to the coffee shop her friends had texted her about earlier. Through the immense amounts of notification in their group chat, I gathered they’re excited her phone’s back on and were super worried about her health but apparently had no idea where she even lived. “Dad’s dead. Or at least on paper he is.”

“What does that even mean?” I shrug and let her marinate in that for herself. She yawns deeply for the umpteenth time, and I probably should have spent more time persuading her to sleep instead of having a staring contest with her all night. If I wasn’t thinking about ways I could possibly kill her when Madoc tells me to, I was definitely starting to think about her with less and less clothes on. Thoughts of my tryst with Tootsie Roll started to resemble Jude taking up her space.

“You ever think about dying your hair blue?”

“No. Too discernible, King.” She says this like it’s obvious, and no shit it is. Under the surface at least, but her comment lets me know she’s aware of a lot more going on than I do. But, I figure, she’s already under a lot of people’s radars anyways, what’s stopping her now? “You picturing me as Candy, again?” I can’t help the grin that escapes me as I hold the door open for her.

“That depends. Are you offering a taste?”

She elbows me as I walk behind her, then winces at the sudden shift in her arm and I smirk, placing my palm against the wound. She sucks in a breath but doesn’t shove me off. I know the pressure is helping some and she doesn’t want to accept that, so she ignores me, spotting her friends. As Jude had said, they’ve got their own issues stemming from absentee dads or whatever so they haven’t really noticed the strangeness of Jude’s sudden no-contact.

They wave her over and their smiles turn Cheshire when they spot me behind her, not at all releasing my hold. “Jude!” Liliver exclaims, “Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing a friend?”

“He just followed me here,” Jude deadpans, earning a soft giggle from her. Nicasia, on the other hand, eyes me up and down, eyebrows furrowing as she tries to place me. Recognition slowly dawns on her, but she’s still confused. I smile at Nicasia, daring her to say something, to tell Jude what I already told her anyway. How could she possibly know who I am without explaining herself?

“I’m Cardan,” I tell them, wondering too late, if I should have lied about that.

Liliver gasps, eyes going wide, “You were at the frat party! I didn’t know you two hit it off like that,” she looks at Jude, accusingly.

“He took me home. He’s been lurking ever since.” She reaches and gently pats my chest, looking up at me like she’s infatuated.

“Finally kidnapped her yesterday and kept her up the whole night,” I add in, playing along. Liliver looks scandalized but Nicasia raises a brow and lets out a whistle.

“That’s why you haven’t been answering my calls,” Liliver gives Jude a knowing look and Jude’s jaw ticks just the slightest that they haven’t caught on to her lie. Sorry baby, they cant save you.

She goes to say something, but the barista calls out Nicasia’s name and three cups are slid her way. She hands them each off and looks at me apologetically, having none for me. But Jude waves her off and hands me her cup while taking her bag from my hand. I definitely don’t need more stimulants in my blood, but I grab it and sip from it anyways.

“So what Frat are you in?” Liliver leans against a pillar, eyes narrowed as if trying to visualize where I fit in.

Jude leans against me and tilts her head back to look up at me, “Go on babe, tell them.”

I roll my eyes and tap her nose with the tip of the coffee cup. “Theta Delta Sigma,” I rattle off a bunch of Greek letters and they either don’t care enough to call me out on my bullshit or they have no idea that I’m lying.

“How long have you been in?” Liliver taps a finger on her lips, still trying to place me.

I shrug, “A few years.”

“Ooh,” Nicasia’s eyes sparkle, “What was your initiation like?”

Jude frowns, shifting against me. “I don’t think he can talk about that.”

Her friend rolls her eyes, “What am I gonna do? Tell the campus police? Should I also tell them about the bag of weed I’m carrying or the fake ID you have?” I should throw in the guns in the car and the coke in my pocket, just for kicks.

Jude sighs and rests her head back against me, eyes closing, as if looking for patience. I look down at her, gauging her reaction, but her breathing shallows out far quicker than I’d like. “I had to tie someone up and get them to confess something heinous they did on camera.” This happened of course, but when I was seventeen and Madoc had just about enough of me trailing him. He had sighed and told me, “prove it, then. Show me you want this hell.” He gave me a lowdown and I did as he asked, put the fear of God in the creepy youth pastor who liked to groom little girls and boys. I didn’t want Madoc’s hell. I wanted my own power. There is footage out there of said tortured pedophile, but it won’t ever be released. Because his body won’t ever be found.

“Whoa,” Liliver breathes, “That’s hard core.”

Nicasia’s eyes are wide too but if she does go back on her word and snitches on me to campus patrol, who can’t actually do shit on a crime that doesn’t technically exist towards a made up fraternity, I have the knowledge of her fake ID and bag of weed she’s carrying. I’m not above ratting her out in pure spite. “What did he do?”

“I’d rather not let you lose sleep on that.” I smile and gesture with my chin to Jude who still has yet to open her eyes. Her breathing is far too even for her to be cognate, but she can’t be well into a REM cycle just yet. “Speaking of sleep, I should probably get her home.”

Liliver giggles, “You kept her busy last night, poor Jude.” I hadn’t kept her busy at all. Just paranoid. I shrug bashfully and jostle Jude slightly.

Her eyes flutter open and she glances around with a frown on her face. “Did I just fall asleep?”

“No, you just blinked for a very long time,” Nicasia mutters. She waves her hand in dismissal, “Go cuddle with your little vigilante, I’ll see you later.”

“Vigilante?”

“Say bye to your girls, babe.” I turn and lead her out, she frowns but still twists her body to wave back at her friends.

“You’re not taking me home, are you?”

“Of course not.”

She pouts, “Well, can I least get a sofa this time, I still have kinks in weird places from that chair I spent the day in. Also, can I have alcohol? I think I really need a drink, because I’ve been trying to block everything out, and it was working well because of that test, but things are slowing down and I just keep thinking about that guy with an arrow in his throat. And to think I just grabbed that crossbow from its mount on the wall. I didn’t even think it’d actually shoot.”

Ignoring her mostly, I say, “I’ll do you one better. An actual bed.” She sighs almost contently, continuing her rambles.

“You know if I didn’t have this bullet wound, which – I'm coming to terms with by the way that Ghost shot me –

“He didn’t shoot you,” I tell her and she rolls her eyes like she thinks I’m lying.

“ – I would have escaped my confines,” she continues and I open the door to my truck for her then help her up.

“Oh yeah?” I ask and she nods, leaning down close to my face.

Her blood shot eyes are wide with mirth as she whispers like she’s telling me a secret. “Daddy taught me. In a game,” she lets me know and I don’t like the feeling I get when she confides in me. “I got candy when I won. Red Jolly Ranchers are my favorite.” She grins at me sleepily.

I glance down at her lips then back to her eyes, quite lively today, stunning when the sun hits it right. “You’ll have to show me then.” I pull the seatbelt strap around her, clicking it into place.

She grins, “Anything just to tie me up again, huh?” she snorts and leans back against the seat and I shut the door, heading to the driver side. Her head lolls to look at me, the humored smile tapering slightly. “You don’t have to,” she sighs, “Tie me up, I mean. Daddy’s not coming for me. I learned long ago he doesn’t care about us. He’d let you kill me. Hell, he’ll take the gun from you and shoot me himself just to get it over with.” Despite going into this blind, and still unsure if Ren and Stimpy are related to what Madoc is doing, I’m beginning to grasp most of Jude’s short comings have been catered to her dad’s liking. So, the truth is, I believe her. And with the look of guilt on her face, it’s not hard to guess how torn she is about this tidbit of information.

I think she realizes she’s said too much because she frowns, and when she reaches forward to touch the dials on the radio, her fingers tremble. She fiddles with the stations until she finally settles on something pop.

She falls asleep before the first song even finishes, yet I don’t turn off the blaring music. When I finally park the truck, I turn to face her, taking in the twitch of her fingers and the irises fluttering beneath her lids. Her lips are parted, and I can’t help the smirk at the trail of drool down the side of her mouth. When I reach out to wipe her chin I know I’m fucked. I think I’ve known since the party.

I shake my head and exit the car, jogging to her side to shuffle her into my arms. I sigh and ring the doorbell when I reach the entrance, unable to get my keys at the proper angle, unusually flustered by Jude’s hot breath against my neck. Dain pulls the door open, eyes going wide at the girl in my arms. “This her?”

“No, it’s the fucking pizza you ordered. Move, so I can get in.”

He grins, “I wouldn’t mind eating her.” He’s looking for a reaction and I almost give it to him. My grip on Jude tightens and she stirs, murmuring something before nuzzling deeper into my neck. Dain looks very much amused. He takes a step and I’m disconcerted. I’ve hardly ever used this entrance, but for the past few weeks alone, I’ve seen it more than I’d like. Yeah, I gave myself a complex about this house and being the estranged son of the mayor. When I begged my social worker to find me anyone who would pity me enough to let me couch surf until I hit 18, I never expected her to find Eldred of all people. He had been unconcerned with the new baggage he’d acquired, but Dain, who had only been 17 then, made sure I had a room to sleep in at least. He took care of me, but it wasn’t enough most of the time. Off to repent for his own sins, no time for mine as well. And so when Madoc came along, I stuck by him. Probably having Dain and Madoc as pseudo parents was as dysfunctional as all my foster homes, but I'd take them tag teaming on a half assed parental guidance than reliving any part of my first 14 years of life.

“East,” Dain tells me, when I guess I’ve been standing a minute longer than necessary. I glance and he gives me a knowing look before glancing up the main staircases. Its much easier finding an exit in the place than it is finding the room I spent the last 8 years of my life in.

“Elvira,” I say her name like a question as I make my way up the stairs.

“That primadonna bitch,” Dain mutters, “is napping in the sun room. Your precious princess is fine.” He whines, but Elvira is practically family.

I find my room and set Jude on the bed before I ruffle through my drawers. I hear her yawn just a moment later and when I turn, I see that she’s sat up halfway, resting on her elbows, blinking herself awake. I toss a shirt at her and it lands square in her face. She looks down when it falls into her lap then looks up at me. “Who’s Elvira?” little sneak had been eaves dropping.

I raise a brow and tug my shirt off. She looks at me with wide eyes, trailing over my skin. I reach for the buttons on my jeans, curiously looking over her observation of me. Her skin is flushed, breathing going just a bit shallow, focused on my fingers as I slide down my zipper. She lets out a soft squeak that almost makes me laugh. When my hands no longer obscure my pelvis, Jude places a hand to her cheek, almost resembling the likes of pearl-clutching old ladies.

Scandalized but still watching. “Is that… ?”

“Is that what?”

She holds the shirt I’d given her close to her chest like a lifeline. “Nothing,” she stutters, getting up abruptly.

I glance down wondering if Dain tattooed some gang signs on me without my consent, but I’m sure I’d have already recognized something like that.  Then I understand and I smirk. “Oh,” and I’m absolutely charmed by her being so flustered over a piercing.

"Turn around so I can change."

“I’ve seen it all, Jude.” Her teeth grits at the reminder that I’ve been watching her, even when she had been at her most comfortable. I settle on an accent chair I position close to the door, leaning my head back and parting my legs. “I’ve even seen better,” I muse just to piss her off. I hear her mutter something, and I laugh closing my eyes anyway. After a moment, she huffs and shuffles about. She tells me she done only a minute or two later. I see her jeans and shirt folded neatly at the foot of the bed and further up, I see that the covers are drawn all the way to her chest. She turns to her side, watching me.

“No handcuffs?”

I lean over and dig into the bedside table drawer and pull out a wad of neon zip ties. “Pick a color.”

“Pink,” she holds her hands out, palms down. I twist her hands until her palms face each other and loop the plastic around her wrist. “What about my arm?”

It’s bleeding when I glance at it, but it doesn’t seem dire. “You’ll be fine.” She scowls at me but shifts until she feels comfortable. I get up to draw the curtains close, then return to the chair.

“Did it hurt?”

I look at the way the glow from the lamp reflects in her irises. Her tawny eyes look golden. “When I fell from heaven?”

She glares at me, “I know you crawled out of hell. I meant, you know, your piercing.”

I chuckle and lean back, “Yeah, when I got it, sure.”

“Why would you get something like that?”

“Nobody’s really complaining, Jude.” I grin, “Want a feel?” she rolls her eyes but there’s a part of me that knows I could never let that shit happen if she were to even spite me and say yes. The thought of her grinding her hips against mine just to find that perfect angle, to get my piercing to rub her swollen clit, has my hands clenching. Jude might actually kill me before I can even point a bullet in her direction. “Fuck,” I groan out, slumping back. If she notices my sudden turmoil, then she doesn’t comment on it.

“So, is Elvira part of your roster of girls?” I give her a look, trying to assess if she’s going for small talk or if Lolli had really bothered her. Indignant, and maybe even vindictive, she tilts her chin almost proudly and adds, “Just want to know where I fall on the list. Is it Elvira, Sophie, Lolli then me? Sophie, Lolli, me then Elvira?” The mention of Sophie’s name has me tensed and sobered. What bothers me the most is that, somehow Jude had made it to the top of the list, albeit, different from what she’s getting at, but still, I couldn’t let her know that.

Before I can say something to piss her off, the door slams open, and we both turn to see a very erratic looking Ghost enter. He glances at me, eyeing my lack of attire, then Jude, who’s arm had started bleeding through my shirt. “Shit,” Ghost mutters, handing me the laptop he had been carrying and the coffee he probably should lay off of. “I’ll let Valerian know,” he tells us, shrugging off his sweater and bunching it up to place on Jude’s arm. She winces and lets out a curse, but Ghost only turns to me to explain, “No malware… but. Shit man, what the hell is Gen getting you into?”

I open the laptop, walking it over to Jude. There’s a video already on screen, paused. Its dim and grainy and despite half the screen being partially obscured, I make out the features of the sleeping girl on screen. It’s Jude, I realize. Except it’s not. Identical until the mirror image starts to look off. I cant explain it, but I know that’s not Jude in the video. Jude reaches and hits the play button, but she’s so stiff that it seems like every move hurts her to make. Ghost watches me as I alternate between watching Jude and the video. I don’t understand until Jude gasps. Her eyes widen in horror and I think it’s saying something that she’s this petrified given the past few weeks that she’s had. Her eye’s well up and when I turn to the screen, it’s like a buzzing noise starts in my ears. I can’t hear anything but static when I recognize the knife being held to the jugular of the sleeping girl.

I feel a bit sick, recalling images that had been sent to me, nearly identical, but instead of Jude’s look-alike, it had been my fiancée, and back then, I had been far too late. I look to Ghost, wondering how this had escalated from ransom for Jude to emotional torture for me. It’s like my presence had escalated the danger. “They know,” I say. But its more than that, something clicks in my mind but I don’t want to think about it at all, I don’t want it to be real.

Suddenly, Jude lets out a gasp, and jolts against Ghost. Her arm jerks a little then the rest of her body starts to shake uncontrollably. I grab on to her, but her eyes roll back and her body slumps.  Ghost pries my hands from Jude – I hadn’t realized I had been squeezing so hard – and he grabs the laptop after guiding her down. Then he tells me what I’ve already figured, “That’s her sister. That’s Taryn.”

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#Dark AU #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #jurdan #jurdan smut #jurdan au #jurdan fanfic #the folk of the air #tfota au #tfota fanfic #tfota #tcp #twk #tqon #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #angst #dark romance #cardan says : I AM a god #Jude says: k cool but i got an econ test so

[drpeppertummy]

woe tiny little story be upon ye. return of sunny & laurie following a tummy prompt activity with a friend

[unwilling stuffing, tummyache]

"Don't look at me like that. The deal was, if you fuck it up, you have to eat it."

Still, Sunny stared up at Laurie with big sad eyes, but she turned away, leaving him with his cayenne-laden mistake. His eyes slowly fell to the lasagna. Even if it tasted fine, it was still a full-size dish. He felt full already just looking at it. His stomach, not yet up to date on his perilous situation, growled loudly.

"Sounds like you're hungry," said Laurie, not bothering to hide her amusement. "Better get started. It's probably going to take a while."

"You suck," grumbled Sunny.

"Hey, you agreed to it. Not my fault you were messing around."

"I was not messing around! You were getting in the way!"

"I was not!"

"Yes you were!"

"Sunny, would you shut up and eat your lasagna?"

Sunny glared at her and picked up his fork. Stubborn as he was, he was a man of his word. Sighing, he stuck his fork into the dish and dug out a bite. The lasagna's one saving grace was that, aside from accidentally dumping a ton of cayenne into it, Sunny was a good cook. He was relieved to find, taking his first bite, that the heat wasn't unbearable, at least for now. It was still far hotter than it had any business being, however, and definitely not suitable for the party he and Laurie had been cooking for. The replacement was in the oven now, and it pained him to think that he'd be too full to have any by the time it was done.

He continued working on the lasagna while Laurie cleaned up, unsure whether he should pace himself or try to wolf it all down before the fullness set in. He decided to just eat and not think about it, just like he was trying not to think about the heat building on his tongue. He was, however, already finishing up what would have been the equivalent of a second piece, if he had been cutting them and not just eating straight out of the dish, and the growing fullness in his stomach would soon be impossible to ignore. Sunny was notorious for biting off more than he could chew--literally as often as figuratively--and he knew as well as anyone that the capacity of his stomach was underwhelming. He was already past where he would normally quit, and he still had a long way to go.

As Sunny paused between bites, a sharp hiccup shook his body. Laurie turned to look at him, surprised, and was unable to hold back a fit of laughter. Sunny shot her an angry look.

"I'm sorry," Laurie giggled, snorting. Sunny made a face at her and turned miserably back to his lasagna. He was almost a third of the way through it now and well beyond full. He hiccuped again. The harsh contraction of his stomach was not a welcome feeling. He groaned quietly and held his free hand against his belly, which was much rounder and firmer than it had been when he started. With a sigh, he stuck his fork back into the dish and kept going.

The overwhelming fullness had become impossible to ignore, and each bite pushed Sunny further into the realm of discomfort. He would have sworn he could feel his stomach stretching as he forced down the equivalent of a sixth serving. His belly felt unbelievably tight, and was sticking out far over his belt. Another hiccup jostled his stomach, dislodging a weak burp. It didn't provide much relief. He paused for a moment, leaning back in the chair, breathing slowly. He hiccuped. There was still a third of the lasagna left.

Cautiously rubbing his belly, Sunny leaned back toward the lasagna. He picked up another bite and carried on, more slowly than ever. Making himself chew and swallow was becoming increasingly difficult. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. His stomach was tight as a drum, stuffed nearly to bursting with heavy, cheesy pasta. Finally, as he raised the fork again to his mouth, he found himself unable to open up. He dropped it back into the dish and slumped back in his seat, holding his aching belly with both hands.

"I can't do it," he moaned, sounding utterly defeated and a little ashamed. Laurie turned to face him again, surprised at how far he'd gotten. Even in her frustration at having to start the lasagna over from scratch, she hadn't expected him to actually try and eat the whole thing. Only about a quarter of it remained, and the uncomfortable bulge of his bloated stomach was clear evidence that he hadn't just thrown the rest under the table.

"Jeez, Sunny," said Laurie, walking over to him. He thought he heard a twinge of guilt in her voice. The anger between the two of them had faded, and Laurie could barely remember what they'd even been arguing about while they were cooking that got things so heated. Sunny looked up at her, trying to look annoyed but instead just looking sad and exhausted. She sat down in the chair beside him and cautiously reached towards him, half expecting him to protest, but he neither moved nor argued as she placed her hand gently on his belly.

"I didn't think you were going to get that far," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, Sunny."

"I'm sorry too," he mumbled, eyes darting away from her. It wasn't something he said often, and Laurie was surprised to hear it. "Let's pair up with different people next time, alright?"

"Or we could just keep our tempers under control," suggested Laurie, rubbing his belly a little. Sunny returned his gaze to her, staring without a word. "Hm, no, you're right. Different partners next time."

#writing #belly kink #tummy kink #stuffing #stuffed belly #xsunnyx #xlauriex

[suvidrache]

Freddy Krueger Comforts S/O

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 1,003 / Read it on AO3 / Wattpad

Warning: swearing

One night Freddy appeared in your dreams. He saw the horrors you had seen and decided to stick around.

For months, Freddy continued to appear in your dreams. The two of you finally decided to become a couple, and it was fun. You didn't often have nightmares. Only on occasion because Freddy liked scaring you, sometimes, and it's what kept him around.

The two of you would always do things in the dream world, going on dates, visiting new places, etc. He never came to the real world, and you never asked him about it.

Until one day, he decided to hide out in your home.

He grabbed a slice of pizza from the fridge and ate it as you walked through the door.

You had thought you were alone, and he continued to stand there in the kitchen, pizza in hand, when you walked in.

You screamed, your hands covered your mouth, and you ran to your room.

Freddy looked around, looking for the thing that had scared you so badly.

After finishing his pizza, he followed after you.

You had just made it to the door of your room when he teleported in front of you. You shoved past him as tears streamed down your cheeks. You slammed the door closed and ran to your bed.

"What the fuck?!" He yelled and opened the door.

He saw you on the bed curled up and crying.

"Are you not happy to see me?"

You didn't reply and instead buried yourself further into the bed.

He took a seat on the bed and you rolled over to avoid him.

"You weren't scared of me in your dreams and now you're acting like this?"

He continued to talk to fill the quietness. He stood up and looked out your window.

"That's a nice view. It'd be better with you in it though."

When you had eventually fallen asleep, Freddy decided to sleep next to you.

In the morning, you woke up and covered your mouth, surprised to see him yet again.

"Surprise, baby, I'm still here."

He said with a smile.

You got up, picked some clothes out for the day, and went to the bathroom to start your day.

Freddy decided to stay outside the door, waiting for you to finish your shower. His hand was on the door frame as he leaned against it.

You walked out and shoved past him.

"Bitch, what is wrong with you?"

His question was met with silence as you made your way downstairs and grabbed a simple breakfast bar and a small bottle of orange juice to eat.

He followed after you. You probably weren't going to make him breakfast, so he searched through your kitchen and found himself something.

He pulled a pan containing a casserole out. There wasn't much left, so he grabbed a fork and ate straight from the pan.

"This is some good food. What is it?"

He asked as he continued to eat the cold casserole.

"Still not talking to me?"

He sighed and put the dish in the sink. He began washing the dishes, making sure they were all clean and the sink itself.

You left for work and went about your day as usual.

While Freddy continued to clean the rest of the house: vacuuming, mopping the windows, and the mirrors, and even changing your bedsheets and making the bed.

He sat down on the couch and fell asleep, tired of all the work he did.

You came home and continued to ignore him. He followed after you into the kitchen, while still attempting to talk to you.

"Hey, I cleaned the house for you…"

He looked out the window, trying to distract himself, as he tried to put his thoughts together.

"I thought maybe it would make you feel better…"

He sighed and looked at the ground before looking at you.

"Honestly, what is your fucking issue?"

He paused before continuing.

"What have I done to make you so angry?"

You walked away as tears began to form in your eyes. He followed after you and grabbed your shoulder. He turned you towards him and pulled you towards him, his arms wrapping around you in a hug. He held you tightly and had no plans of letting you go anytime soon.

"I love you, I really do, but please tell me what the fuck I did. I can't keep talking to myself. Well, I mean I can, but I don't want to. I miss you."

You finally wrapped your arms around him and tilted your head up slightly.

"I didn't know you could leave the dream world."

"What?"

"I didn't know you could leave the dream world."

"How the fuck did you not know?"

"I just, I've never seen you in the waking world before, and you never came to visit me…"

"Well, I'm here now!"

"Yes, but it just scared me, that's all."

"Scared you?" He said with a laugh as he continued to hold on to you.

"Darling, this isn't scary. I can be much more terrifying. You're really that upset over me being here?"

"It's fine that you're here. I just didn't expect it to happen."

"Of course not, that's what surprises are! Had I told you, it wouldn't have been a surprise! There's no need to get so angry over something like that."

"So you'd be ok with someone just walking into your home with no warning?"

"It depends on what they'd want, but I wouldn't go for days without speaking to them over a harmless prank."

"You should find a less terrifying prank."

"So you're okay with me pranking you?"

"As long as it's not something that terrifying again, you could have been a murderer or something…"

He laughed and said, "Honey, I kill people all the time in their dreams, but I wouldn't kill someone as beautiful as you."

He let go of you and gently took your face in his hands and leaned closer.

You leaned in and kissed him back.

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

#freddy krueger headcanons #freddy krueger imagine #freddy krueger x reader #freddy krueger x you #freddy krueger #freddy x reader #nightmare on elm street

[musette22]

https://people.com/chris-evans-surprises-shelter-dogs-national-dog-day-7814248 finally some glasses!content😍 and in NY... there's a high chance of Sebastian currently being in Europe, but who knows for sure😅

NONNIE BLESS YOUR HEART FOR SENDING ME THIS 💞💞💞 I wasn't having a bad night to begin with but this still managed to make it 100000% better, oh my GOD 😭😭 Not just Chris in glasses content, but Chris AND PUPPIES CONTENT?????? LIKE!!!!!

This is the puppy interview all over again, I'm crying and slamming my head into my desk, this is just TOO MUCH CUTE for me to deal with, and then paired with the fact that he looks so fucking GOOD and relaxed and happy, and he's in New York???

Yeah, stick a fork in me I'm done 😩💘

#chris evans #minnie answers