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justasparkwritings · 3 years

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Troll In Love: Part 1

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Exes to Lovers, Non-Idol AU

Rating: PG-17

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: What happens when your work nemesis and your ultimate troll team up to flip your world upside down?

Note: This piece is for the #thebtswritersclub fic exchange! Look out for Part 2 later this week.

This fic is dedicated to, written for the incomparable @xjoonchildx, who I have been lucky enough to be paired with. A major fan, this was an intimidating endeavor, and I’m kind of in love with what I’ve created for her. And if she hates it .... it’s trash okay? jk... kind of.

Banner by me.

Monday: Pitch Meeting

“Everyone has an inherent archnemesis,” Claire began her presentation, eyes peering across the conference room, attempting to make thoughtful eye contact with her peers.

Finally, a staff writer, this pitch marked her first foray into feature writing. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried, in her three years at the company as a freelance writer, it wasn’t that she didn’t draft proposals, complete preliminary research, no, she absolutely did. But there was always someone in front of her, someone who always came around the corner, nicking first place with seconds to spare. Claire hated you from the moment you arrived, bright eyed and excited, a recent college graduate gunning for a position at the magazine. While it took her years to pitch a cover story feature, years to move from an assistant to full-time staff writer, you had done so in a handful of years.

Today, Claire decided, that would change. She had prepped and planned for weeks, laid in wait for Marissa to give her the go ahead to pitch her idea to the team. Adjusting her Dior, she shifted from heel to heel before speaking again.

“We all have that one person who no matter what we post, they find a way to demean it, turn it negative, make it about something completely unrelated. Whether that’s politics, or religion, or sex, there is that one troll we can’t help but root against. My proposal is to use a few members of staff to find their internet trolls, to engage with them over a period of time, and if they’re willing, interview them, both separately and together. I want to discover what it is that makes them keep commenting, why they always seem to gravitate towards certain posts, who their audience is and how it relates to our greater understandings of our enemies.” Claire sighed, the heavy lifting of her presentation just beginning.

“I like it, who do you want to use?” Marissa asked.

“Someone from each of our most high-profile teams, or the people in our office that have the largest social media followings. For a few that overlaps,”

“Who are those people?”

“Y/N, Jaxson, Hoseok, Emma and Bridgette,” Claire explained. “They have an average Instagram following of ten thousand, and on Twitter it’s twelve thousand.”

“What do you post that gets you so many followers?” Gillian questioned.

“My ass,” Jaxson laughed. “But really, it’s Drag Race content,”

“Good, you have a list. I need written permission from each of you to interview you and your top internet harassers.”

“I’d like to request that my name be off the list,” You asked, hand still raised.

Hoseok asked, knowing the answer deep in his bones. “Why?”

“I just, I don’t think it’d be a –

“Nonsense, you have a large following, I’m sure there’s someone who pisses you off regularly,” Marissa interrupted.

“Yes, there is! What’s his name? Jimin?” Claire pretended to scan her page, her cursory glance perfunctory instead of practical.

You heard the gasp leave Hoseok’s mouth before you registered what was happening.

“Fuck you!” You snapped. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate, but the sentiment remains.”

“It was, but it also sealed your fate.” Marissa stood. “Start assembling your team and listen to Claire, I’m sure she has a list of things she needs from you.”

“I do!” Claire chimed.

“Great, get me the contracts from legal and get it to each of the people you’ve listed before 5PM today, I want signed consent before you leave this building.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You asked, your final plea.

“You owe her for the debacle with your last interview,” Marissa reminded you.

“It’s not my fault they were drunk both times! I got the article done and out. It was one of our biggest issues in the last year and was followed up by two other feature pieces by me that beat that record,” You countered, your success an unnecessary brag in a room full of people who feared and admired your work.

“I don’t care, Y/N, handle it,” Marissa sauntered out, her assistants following close behind.

Slouching in your chair, your eyes landed on Claire, glaring daggers into her perfectly straight midnight bob. She was everything you hated, a brown noser, a narcissist, a career driven monster who had been biting at your heels since you arrived. She was jealous, blinded by some lofty goal that she’d be an editor or editor in chief before 28, a feat rare in fashion, unless you were Elaine Welterwroth or Margaret Zhang, of course. They had become editors and editors in chief by ages 29 and 27 respectively. Though Zhang had begun her career blogging at 16, a fact that only infuriated Claire who was too busy popping pimples and trying to lose her virginity to her junior varsity boyfriend.

Claire could spend days listing everything she hated about you. She hated your easy interactions with coworkers, the ability to have the entire room stop and listen when you spoke, the craft of your written work and relationships maintained with subjects years after interviewing them. She hated how you left work with Hoseok on your arm or went to drinks with the assistants and interns. How you achieved so many bylines, becoming an editor in your own right without so much as breaking a sweat, while she was scraping the barrel to be noticed. You seemingly had everything Claire wanted, and Claire was sick of it.

Monday: Your Office

“Thank you, for your participation,” Claire said, sitting across from you in your office.

“You aren’t welcome, I’m actually rather unimpressed with your ability to ambush not only me but the other people you’ve trapped into doing your article,” You crossed your legs, adjusting the waist band of your trousers and continued to scowl at her. Claire had only heard of your less than cheerful personality, though it remained largely rumored, she had never had it confirmed or dared to see it in person.

“How, charming,” She rolled her eyes.

“Look, you don’t want to be talking to me, I don’t want to be talking to you. Just tell me what you want so I can send you on your way.”

Claire watched as you reached across your desk to grab your black and white planner, flipping open to the weeks page and holding your pen at the ready. The inside, covered in stickers and hand lettered phrases, fit the persona Claire so desperately wanted to mimic.

“I need you to read and sign this,” Claire slid the agreement across your glass desk. “Then, I need you to identify the username of your troll, and I need to borrow an intern from your team.”

“You can’t have one,”

“Marissa said I could have whatever I needed, and I need an intern to comb through your tweets.”

“I can save you the trouble, I rarely tweet, when I do, it’s addressing the same ass hat,” You explained.

“Well, I need their handle,”

“Fine,”

“And the intern,” Claire was firm.

You rolled your eyes, before pressing the intercom. “Hey Alexis, can you send Erin to me?”

“Sure thing,” Alexis replied.

“Thank you,”

Claire rolled her eyes.

“Jealous?” You questioned.

“Read the contract, sign it and send it back to me along with answering the Form that’s in your inbox,” Claire directed.

“Great,”

“I’ll be back on Friday to go over your tweets and exchanges before we decide on a tactic to reach out to them and ask them to come in for an interview,” Claire explained. It didn’t annoy you that she was prepared, but it did piss you off a little to know how much she had thought this through. Maybe you should give her a chance, professionally, not socially, Claire would remain a bottom feeder.

“Who says they’re in the city?” You questioned.

“If not, we’ll Zoom with them, okay?”

“Excuse me, you wanted to see me?” Erin peered through the door; wavy bangs parted slightly to expose her forehead and freckled cheeks.

“Yes, your projects are on hold. Claire here needs your help with her feature article, and as my intern, you are to report to her for the remainder of the project,” You explained.

Erin’s eyes widened, never had she been reassigned to a special project, let alone with Claire who was notorious for running interns and assistants into the ground. “Who will take over my work?”

“Can you make a list of where you’re at and send it to me? I will meet with the team tomorrow to talk about where we need to fill in the gaps,”

“Okay,”

“Claire, this is Erin, if you are a bitch to her, I will ensure you don’t ever write a feature piece or move past copy editor here or anywhere,”

“I don’t know where you get off thinking you can speak to me like –

“I am your superior, and you will respect my intern or face the consequences,”

“Fine,” Claire turned and left, leaving Erin wondering what on earth she had been roped into.

Tuesday: Happy Hour

“You gave the real handle?” Hoseok asked over drinks after work, a little happy hour to celebrate leaving the office before 7PM.

“What was I going to do? She could easily look at my Twitter and Instagram and find out, why lie?”

“What happened to preservation?” Hoseok mocked.

“Either I give in and get Claire off my back, or I get called to Marissa’s and have consequences, like I’m a fucking child.”

Hoseok eyed you suspiciously. “Did you give her his name?”

“You saw in that meeting, she already knows. I blame you,”

“Me?”

“Yes you, always talking about dance classes with Jimin, the good old days of photographing him and styling him in college. He abandoned me to go to school with you, and you’ve taken it all in stride.” You explained. It wasn’t a new story, a new plea, a new exploration of your tempestuous non-relationship with Jimin. It was sad, really, listening to you express the hurt you’ve never let go of.

“He didn’t abandon you to come to school with me,” Hoseok laughed.

“Potato, Tomato,”

“You should talk-

“Nope, you made your once monthly ‘you should talk to Jimin’ comment a week ago over margheritas, you don’t get another for ten more days,” You scolded.

“Fine, fine.”

“I don’t even know where he is,” You muttered, pink liquid of your Paloma slipping down your throat.

“That’s a lie,”

“Can you stop calling me out and let me hate him?” You hadn’t meant to snap, but the constant chatter revolving around Jimin was too much to handle, it was too much in two days, too much in the years since you last saw him. Park Jimin was, and has remained, too much.

“Fine,” Hoseok resigned. “Have you looked at your tweets lately?”

“No, I refuse to go back and read whatever horrors I wrote in 2019,”

“You should,” He suggested.

“I guarantee Claire will force me to read them. Probably aloud at some last-minute staff meeting she puts together on Friday to fucking fillet me,” You rolled your eyes again, the last dregs of grapefruit clumping together as they slid down the side of your glass.

“Maybe if you weren’t so,” He starts.

“Bitchy?”

“Your words, then she would like you,”

“She’s hated me since I got there, I’ve tried being nice. I’ve tried being cordial. Claire and I will never mix,” You explained.

“He’s gone blonde you know,” Hoseok’s eyes have flittered past you, glancing down the street at the setting sun, glad he brought his latest Gucci jacket to keep him warm in the early spring evening.

“Didn’t you hit your moratorium on how long you can talk about Jimin in a conversation?”

“You said his name!” Hoseok argued.

“He isn’t Trump, Hoseok. I can say his name, sometimes.”

Hoseok let the moment simmer, cooling gently before turning it up to a raucous boil. “I’m having a kick back next Wednesday, will you come?”

“If he’s not there,” You answered.

“I can’t promise that,”

“Then I can’t promise either,” Chewing the ice from your glass, you let your mind wander to the possibilities of what might happen should you show up to Hoseok’s party and are greeted by Jimin. Blonde Jimin. Jimin with the sparkling eyes and winning smile. Jimin who harasses you on the internet weekly, Jimin who you haven’t spoken to since you were 22, Jimin whom you hated with every fiber of your being.

Worst case scenario, you couldn’t avoid him and would be forced to speak words to him. Best case, you time it perfectly and he’s either just left or hasn’t arrived and you can doll out pleasantries before Irish-goodbying and never having to confront him.

“Y/N, please, you haven’t seen my new place yet and it’s finally furnished,” Hoseok pleaded.

“I’ll think about it,” You resigned.

“Great!”

“I fucking hate you and our friendship,” You scoffed, signaling the waiter to bring you the check. You should’ve ordered food, being buzzed and talking about Jimin was never a good idea.

“I know you do.” Hoseok winked before picking up the tab for you both.

“At least tell me you haven’t invited Seokjin,” You asked, slipping your coat over your shoulders.

“Well-

“You’re fucking with me, right?” You questioned. “You fucking invited both of my exes to a, I’m sorry, kick back? Hoseok, no.”

“I love you, and I’m sorry, Seokjin helped me find some great pieces for the place, and you know he’s friends with Namjoon and Jungkook,” He tried to explain.

“That doesn’t mean I want to stare at them over my tenth flute of champagne and my plate which will be piled high with cheese and crackers and pieces of salami.”

“You and Seokjin are fine though, you ended-

“Don’t say amicably,” You cut him off.

“Well, close to it. Please,” He begged. Begging never looked good on Hoseok.

Staring into his dark irises, a shade mimicking your own, you couldn’t hold the anger brewing. Being around Seokjin was always a better alternative than Jimin. Though the pity he often felt towards you, at your angered state which has never really subsided, was embarrassing. “I’ll think about it.”

“I love you,” Hoseok pulled you into a hug.

“Yeah, yeah, then why do you keep doing this to me?”

“Because I love you,”

“Tell Taehyung to call me,” You said, waving to him before stepping into the waiting Lyft you’d called at the bar.

“I will, can’t make any promises,” Hoseok winked before turning towards the subway, where he’d pull out his head phones and scan through the photos he’d taken throughout the day, waiting to get home to Taehyung to analyze, edit and critique them.

Thursday: Claire’s Makeshift Office

“Are you ready?” Claire asked, sifting through the papers on her desk.

“You had me come to your office, after you scheduled a meeting to ask if I’m ready? Yes Claire, I’m fucking ready,” You snapped.

“Erin,” Claire gestured towards your intern who tried to hold her eye roll.

“So, I combed through your tweets, sifting through your interactions with Mochimin, which is a very creative username,” Erin began.

“Yeah, his name and nickname combined,” You rolled your eyes.

“And we read through them all, well mostly me… and I have to ask, are you sure these are your tweets?” Erin questioned.

“Yes, and what should be his responses,” You answered reaching forward to grab the printed copies waiting for you. You scanned over the interactions, the subtweets, the blatant tags, the retweets and comments not just by Jimin, but a few of your friends too.

“Why have you been telling us he’s the troll?” Erin asked.

Her question caught you off guard, eyes wide, shock echoing in your bones.

“What the fuck? What do you mean? Look at how he fucking responded!”

“Y/N, you’re the troll!” Erin laughed. “It’s you, not him,”

“I am not! This is a fucking joke! It’s not April Fools yet, way to put the cart before the horse!” Your voice radiated throughout the small conference room.

Claire, not having an office of her own, had requested it to conduct most of her teams work. It was your least favorite of the conference rooms, colder both in décor and temperature than the others, it was situated on the corner leading to the kitchen. Glass on two walls, it was the definition of exposed. Everyone could see your outburst. Everyone could watch you fall to pieces. You guessed Claire had planned it this way, to demonstrate how focused her team was, how dedicated to the project they were, to show everyone her value as a staff writer instead of a freelancer. You also assumed she did this to ensure that whatever break down you were beginning to have, would have at least ten witnesses, ten people to side with her that your behavior was irresponsible and reckless.

“Oh please, get over yourself,” Claire chuckled. The light in her eyes proved your assumptions, she was enjoying this. “Do you see how you interact with him?”

“What do you mean how I interact with him? He started this!” You lowered your volume, side glances from colleagues passing by alerting you to the unprofessional decibels you’d began reaching.

“In almost every interaction, you bait him, hook line and sinker. It’s you, Y/N,” Erin explained.

“No!”

“Yes, this poor man, just living his life while you’re purposefully harassing him!” Claire feigned shock, eyes widening, mouth slightly open. It was taking everything in you not to resort to physical violence.

“I would never,” You glowered.

“You have! For years, it’s always you,” Erin said again.

“I, no, that’s impossible. He started it!”

“Admitting is the first step,” Claire’s placid smile was demanding to be smacked off.

“Fuck you! This is ridiculous!”

“July 10, 2020: Thinking of one man in particular, hoping the bleach in his locks burns in the summer heat.Followed by his comment: thinking of one woman in particular, hoping she knows I wear a hat and use purple shampoo.” Erin read.

“I, I, no!”

“October 13: Nothing makes me happier than not being invited to a birthday bash with all my friends. He responded: All you have to do is ask. On your birthday, he tweeted: Happy B-Day to the girl who … oh never mind she hates me. You responded: nobody asked for your half-hearted bullshit, next time I hope you choke on it.”

“He started it!”

“Why are you so awful to him?” Erin wanted to know.

“I am not, he began harassing me first,” You tried to argue.

“Does Hoseok know?” Claire chided.

“Know what?”

“About your vendetta,”

“It’s not a vendetta!”

“Then explain why you tweet or subtweet him at least twice a week, and then when he responds, tweet him again! You don’t even tag him, just vaguely mention discernable parts of his personality or appearance,” Erin explained.

“I do not! How do you know what he looks like?” You tried to counter.

“His profile picture, and a certain friend of yours doesn’t mind sharing-

“You asked Jungkook? Or was it Taehyung? Or I’m sorry, both?” Your eyes were wide, breathing labored, anger boiling to inhumane levels.

“Well, if we asked Hoseok you would’ve kno-

“You called or texted or DM’ed Jungkook and Taehyung, and asked about Jimin?”

“Yes,” Erin bowed her head, guilt written into the freckles her blush tried so desperately to hide.

“I cannot believe you, Erin,” You spat.

“I’m sorry Claire wanted me to,”

You turned your gaze to Claire, who had begun to cower in her seat.

“You did the one thing, the absolute one thing that you knew, you fucking knew, would set me off. You did this on purpose, you fucking bottom feeder, you fucking dillweed you crossed the fucking line, Claire,” You spat. Your volume had lowered into a low growl, far more deadly and intimidating than any yelling you had done.

“We have the proof, Y/N, you can’t deny it, you attack Jimin regularly,” Claire unskillfully attempted to move the conversation away from Jungkook and Taehyung. Like you would balk at her intrusion.

“You don’t get to violate my personal life, to violate the lives of the people I care deeply about, to expose sources and put them in danger should this article go south, poking and prodding into the lives of people who are dealing with their own bullshit to push your own fucking agenda, Claire,” You were seething, Te Fiti in Moana, Mrs. Weasley against Bellatrix, Kim Kardashian against the ocean searching for her diamond. Your wrath knows no bounds, and Claire had finally crossed the line into territory she could never come back from.

“It’s for the job, nothing personal.” Claire shrugged. You could see it in her eyes, she wanted blood and was elated to be getting it.

“This is entirely personal.”

“Well, you can ask Jimin about it when we interview him,” She smiled, lips upturning revealing her veneers, red lipstick perfectly matte and shaped against her thin flesh.

“No, absolutely not,” You shook your head.

“Yes, that’s part of the deal you agreed to,”

“I take it back. I revoke my consent!”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Marissa said. She had sauntered in during your berating, watching as you tried and failed to continue believing that you weren’t the troll. “You have agreed to this, and you will sit through the interview and cordially answer Claire’s questions.”

“Marissa, this is crossing a line,” You stated.

“You have to be held accountable,” Claire said.

“Fuck you, Claire. Believe it or not, there are somethings that are beyond your understanding and a few that are not appropriate for work,” You continued to scold her.

“Y/N, why are you being so hostile?” Claire was mocking you, with Marissa by her side, she was invincible.

“You picked me on purpose. What have you been working with Hoseok? Is this some larger plan to get me to talk to Jimin? I don’t want to talk with Jimin or talk to Jimin, isn’t it bad enough he’s being brought into my work? Oh and let’s not forget you using Erin and Hoseok to gain access to Jungkook and Taehyung, who are beyond off limits.” You listed each of her offenses, careful to leave out indiscretions that occurred before this project of hers began.

“You agreed to-

“No, I was forced to do this by you, Marissa,” You began.

It wasn’t hard to glower at Marissa, one of the most decorated editors in chief, beloved by Condé Nast, best friend of Anna Wintour… Everyone aspired to be her, but in the last year, through your promotion and growing turbulence within the magazine, her leadership had begun to falter. Her steady hand, guiding each staff writer and editor towards success and elevating everyone’s work, was crumbling at an alarming pace. Yet, no one knew why or if anything was being done to rectify the damage her wake was leaving.

“I was coerced into this under some pretense that I owe Claire something for a so called fuck up that resulted in the biggest boon in our magazines readership in the last year, which was followed up by not one but two feature bylines and my promotion. I have done more than enough at this company, in this industry, to sit here and be forced to engage with a man who destroyed my world. I will not speak with him, or to him or listen to him. I will not, and if you force me, I will get legal involved. Should this bullshit continue, you can expect my letter of resignation next week.”

Standing and shoving your chair in, you turned on the heels of your Oxfords and marched straight to your office. Closing your laptop and shoving your planner into your tote, you grabbed your phone.

“Where are you going?” Hoseok asked. He moved in time with you, following down the many corridors of your office and towards the elevators.

As you stepped in, you pressed lobby and waited for the doors to be closed before turning to him.

“Did you tell Erin she could contact Jungkook and Taehyung?” You asked.

“She did what?” Hoseok yelled, soundwaves bounding off the metal and plastic of the elevator, reverberating in your ears.

“Did you?”

“No, I can’t believe she, are you serious?” Hoseok couldn’t lie, a fundamental flaw in his design made it impossible for him to tell the smallest fib.

“Did you work with Erin and Claire to get me involved in this feature? To get me to talk to Jimin?” You didn’t mince your words or pad your language to make him feel less attacked. You needed the answer, and you needed it now.

“No, I didn’t know Claire was doing this until she pitched it. You think I would-

“Hoseok, they called Jungkook and Taehyung. They want Jimin to come in to be interviewed, they won’t stop until I-

“Until you what?”

“Marissa has always supported me, championed me. But Claire has her number, she has her locked and loaded, aiming for me and I don’t know why,” You confided.

“She has been slipping lately,” He agreed. “There’s only one way to stop this,”

Together you stepped out of the elevator, moving past the turnstiles to the revolving door.

“Am I crazy?” You asked, the insecurity beginning to overtake your bravery.

“No, something weird is going on,”

You clarified, “No, I mean, am I crazy for… for doing this to Jimin?”

“I don’t know if you’re crazy, but you’ve definitely not been your best self,” Hoseok answered.

“He makes me so-

“You still love him,” Hoseok interrupted.

“I-

“Go talk to him,” Hoseok encouraged. “Call me after, we can get drinks and wallow or pick out an outfit for your hot date.”

“What if he-

“Just, talk to him, okay?” Hoseok requested.

“Okay,”

“I’ll check in with Jungkookie and Taehyungie,” He assured.

“Thank you,”

“I’ll also scope out open positions, we can’t stay here,”

“I love you, Hobi,” You confided, a statement that flowed so easily past your lips, you didn’t have to think or parse through the emotions that went along with it. You’ve always loved him, always will.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Hoseok draped his arm around your shoulders before placing a kiss to your forehead, a gentle embrace, a squeeze of confidence, a gesture of love. He moved swiftly from you back into the building, and as you watched him walk away, you took a deep breath.

Taking your phone out of your pocket, you dialed a number you had tried to forget.

“To what do I owe this unexpected delight of a call?” He asked. His voice was the same, chipper and cunning in the same breath.

“I need to speak with you, ASAP,” You told him.

“Okay, I’m working from home today, come over whenever,” He invited you without hesitation.

“You still live at the same place?”

“No, moved up. I’ll send you the address,”

“You know who this is?” You asked, uncertainty back in your bones.

“What, Y/N, you thought I deleted your number?” Jimin laughed, one of only a few sounds that shot right to your knees, making any posture unstable in the docile sounds of his joy.

“I, I don’t know, I guess. Look I’m going to hail a cab, I’ll be there in 20,”

“I look forward to it, just tell the doorman you’re here for me and he’ll let you up,” Jimin said.

“Okay, see you soon, I guess,”

“I can’t wait,” Jimin was smiling, you couldn’t see it, but the lilt in his voice was all the assurance you needed. Bracing yourself for the impact of him, of his voice, of his laugh, of the way he looked at you, you hailed one of the last remaining cabs in the city and prayed for courage.

Next: Troll in Luv Pt. 2

103 notes · View notes

glitter-x-gold · 3 years

Text

requested: sarò la luce di sera (Måneskin)

requested by @/Sheruie on Archive of Our Own! (link on the blog!)

in which Cora doesn’t think she can do it anymore, but thankfully, there’s always family to show her that she can

@/Sheruie requested, here it is :)

Cora is a female character on this case, as an obvious reference to the song. However, how you perceive and interpret Cora is your own choice.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

- suicide attempt (nothing explicit, but still, implied)

~ * ~

Outside the hotel room, the night was dark and silent, the chilly breeze from the slightly opened window making Cora shiver slightly. She took a deep breath, followed by a sharp exhale, as she faced the unlabelled bottles that stood on the nightstand, at arm’s reach.

Some kind of dark, freezing void had taken over her chest, killing anything else, any other happy feeling that dared growing. It had been like that for weeks, maybe months, and she just didn’t believe there was any other way to live anymore. She just didn’t feel like she was strong enough to keep going. They certainly wouldn’t miss her much, right? No one wanted a broken someone, a person who could no longer put their own pieces back together, or at least pretend things were okay.

Laying abandoned on the bed, her phone buzzed, once, twice, the screen lighting up with unspoken urgency.Cora had told them she didn’t feel like going out that day.

Non mi va, raga’. Sono troppo stanca.

Ethan and Vic had respected her decision, though making sure she knew they’d come back running if she needed them; they had noticed how Cora hadn’t been herself for the past days. Maybe a little rest would help her get back on her feet. Thomas had kissed her forehead before going; a silent “Please be okay”. Damiano had stayed behind for a second longer to take her hand in his and squeeze it lightly, to then look her in the eyes with such intensity he had said everything without words. It didn’t matter how much she tried to hide it; he could see right through her. Now her phone was buzzing again. And she was ignoring it, still fighting an internal battle as to what she was about to do. She looked at the wrinkled paper she had left beside her, her shaky handwriting barely intelligible. She wasn’t sure if she should; however, she didn’t know if, come the time, she’d be brave enough to proceed. To finally stop burdening everyone. When Cora felt the dampness on her cheeks, she realized she was crying; her throat seemed to be closing, and an irrational panic arose to her brain. For the first time in weeks, she could feel, and what she felt was fear. She had the pill bottle in a firm grip, but something paralyzed her, so she remained there, sitting on the bed, crying, unable to do anything. A raging fire had replaced the numbness, destroying everything in its path, and Cora just wasn’t sure what was worse anymore.

The door to the room opened before she could process what was happening; she could hear the guys’ voices, chatting and bantering. She’d recognize Damiano’s laugh anywhere. Cora couldn’t even move, all she could do was cry, her breath in short, shaky puffs that hurt her aching chest. The sounds ceased abruptly when two friends fell silent, as they noticed her presence on the other side of the dimly lit bedroom.

“Cora?” - she heard Thomas call - “Cora?”

As they noticed she didn’t react, their calls for her grew louder and more worried. All of a sudden, before she could realize, a hand was placed on her shoulder, the cold contrasting with the excessive warmth of her skin.

“Cora… baby, what happened?”

Damiano was the first to notice the bottle Cora was holding in her hand; then, his gaze settled on the wrinkled sheet of paper placed beside her. Given her current state, it wasn’t at all hard for him to put two and two together. Setting all his heartbreak aside, he knew he had to think quick, so he brought himself down to his knees in front of her, while Thomas sat beside him, unable to hide his shock.

“Look at me” - Damiano asked, softly - “Cora, can you please look at me?”

While still gasping for air like a fish out of water, Cora made an effort to meet his gaze, focusing on something, anything but the thoughts that flooded her head. Moving gently, slowly, he placed his hands on top of hers, trying to unclench her fist and ease her grip on the pill bottle.

“We’re going to let this go, okay, amore?” - he said, while still trying to pry her fingers away from the object

Without realizing, the girl was whimpering, when she finally gave in to Damiano’s touch and opened her hand, releasing her grip on the pills, letting the container fall to the carpet with a soft thud, as it was replaced with the boy’s hand on hers. Damiano had climbed up on the bed to sit beside her.

“Did you take anything?”

Cora shook her head hastily, finally abandoning herself to the crying, no longer fighting her feelings, struck by the thought that she had almost done it. Thomas, still sitting in his place on the floor, was suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that if they had come home a minute too late…The girl was now huddled against Damiano’s chest, as he tightened his hold on her ever so gently, tears running down his own face, smudging his makeup.

“Andrà tutto bene, piccola” - he whispered, voice thick with his own overload of emotion - “We’re here now. Andrà tutto bene”

Cora tried to speak, to say something, anything, but instead all that left her chest was a loud, completely broken sob. Thomas took her hand, he too still confused and trying to fight past the shock that clouded his judgement momentarily.

“Perdonami”

It was, at last, the first intelligible word she was able to say.

The blond boy finally found it in himself to speak.

“There’s nothing to forgive. We love you so much”

They heard the door open again, Ethan and Vic’s voices speaking softly. They, too, fell silent, their features suddenly heavy, as they saw Damiano still holding on to Cora, both crying like children, and Thomas’ hand interlocked with hers, quiet tears, too, running down his pale cheeks. Exchanging a look, they took a step forward, making their presence known.

“Cora? Damià?” - Vic asked, confusion and worry in her voice - “Thomas… what’s happening?”

Ethan was the quickest of the two to catch a glimpse of the pill bottle laying forgotten on the carpet beside her. Then, he saw the note, and a hand flew up to cover his mouth in shock. Vic followed quickly. In a moment, both were, too, sitting next to the rest; Ethan on the bed, beside Cora, Vic on the floor, right next to Thomas, looking up at the pair. Damiano just felt thankful to have the girl safe in his arms; that they hadn’t been too late. Her cries had quieted down a little. The older boy left a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“How did you know?” - she asked, almost whispering

Thomas was quick to reply.

“You weren’t taking our calls. We were worried”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m a burden. I just thought you would be better off without me”

It was Ethan’s turn to speak up.

“Don’t say that again. Please” - he asked, hurt - “we love you, Cora. You’re our sister. We want to help you”

Then, Victoria:

“Don’t shut us out. We’ll fix this, we promise you”

Finally, Damiano cleared his throat and seemed to take a moment to think of how to phrase his thoughts.

“Sorellina mia, non sei mai sola… trust us on this one. Let us take care of you. We’ll make it okay”

For the first time in weeks, Cora felt an overwhelming amount of love replace the void that had been sucking all happiness out of her. A tiny little spark of warmth flickered on her heart, fueled by her family’s soft touches and kind words.

Damiano wiped the tears from her cheeks while his own still rolled down his face.As they huddled up together, taking comfort in each other, she knew they wouldn’t leave her. She had love. Something worth staying for.

--------

translations:

“Non mi va, raga’. Sono troppo stanca.” - “I don’t feel like it, guys. I’m too tired”

“amore (mio)” - (my) love

“Andrà tutto bene, piccola” - “Eveything’s going to be alright, baby”

“Perdonami” - forgive me

"Sorellina mia, non sei mai sola” - “My little sister... you are never alone”

(A/N): this is a very, very sensitive topic I would not normally write about. however, if this is a way to, somehow, bring any sort of comfort to someone going through a rough time, I am happy to provide it for you. let this be your reminder that there is always something worth fighting for.

this is a small story that in no way, shape or form glorifies mental illness. not only is it unrealistic and irresponsible to take it lightly, it is dangerous.

last but not least, everyone struggles at some point in life. bad days don’t last forever. you’re never alone. you’re so so loved. if you, like Cora, are not in a good place right now, remember there’s no shame in asking for help.

you can do this. it gets better. my inbox is open if you need a friend.

#måneskin imagine #please mind the trigger warnings!!!#måneskin #damiano david #vic de angelis #thomas raggi #ethan torchio #fic #short fic #drabble #requests open

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that-bookworm-guy · 4 years

Text

2-week Hiatus Post

I've written, rewritten and deleted this post more times than I can count.

If this has posted it means that I'm still not back.

The only things I've come online for are to top up my queue and to write and queue book review posts. On my Twitter the only things that should be posting are the automatic posts from Netgalley as I review books. My Instagram has been silent.

I've just written my post about my 1 week hiatus, which as I stated in the post, is a safety net I like. It makes me feel like I'm not abandoning everything and hopefully it gives extra notice to those who may not have sewn my original break post. So although these posts are a week apart for you, it's been literally minutes for me.

I don't think I've ever written a 2 week post. I've had breaks that have been longer than 2 weeks, but I've always had a rough idea of when I'll be back. I don't know this time. I really don't. I didn't tell anyone directly that I was going on a break. Because I didn't know how to explain things. I just kinda posted the posts and went silent.

So this post is going to be long.

Tw: Hate (and assault??)

If you've been following me for over a month, you may remember I took a break from social media because of the vast amount of hate I was getting on twitter and here. I shouldn't have come back from that so soon, because honestly, the hate on the internet hasn't stopped. It's all over my Twitter feed, hate directed at trans people and even if I block certain words, screenshots keep appearing of things people have said.

Before my last break, I woke up one day to my Twitter inbox full of vile hate. Towards trans people in general and towards me. I mean vile, horrible messages with vivid descriptions of things. In my half asleep crying state I didn't block or screenshot any of them. I just deleted them. I wanted them gone. It took me hours because every time I thought I got to the end, I refreshed and there were more. I was a mess.

I was getting hate on here too. I had to step back.

I came back a week or two later feeling a bit better. But fully aware that i was pushing myself to regain some kind of normality.

Then everything kicked off again, but this time just on my Twitter feed. If you've been on twitter you may know what I'm on about. I've unfollowed people, blocked others but screen shots kept appearing on my dash and people were replying to hate messages which put them on my feed.

Then I got a hate message on here and something in my snapped. I cried and cried and wrote an impulsive rant on twitter about I'm going on another break.

I haven't reread the thread but I wrote that I'll delete it when I got back, so it's still there. I also wrote about the fact I've been a terrible friend to people because I've been isolating myself. It's something I do when I know I'm getting bad again. In a way, I want no one to notice what's happening. In another, I'm afraid that if they see me in this state, I'll be rejected. So I isolate.

So I went on a break.

In March I started running to help with my mental health. In May I had to stop due to injury and something else, which I won't discuss. But it meant going back to running was going to be hard for me.

But I decided i needed to go for a walk at least because I hadn't left the house since early May.

I had been out for half an hour when I noticed 3 men behind me. They had been behind me for a few minutes but I thought nothing of it because I was walking down the back streets (I live in a village/ small town. The back streets are just road with houses either side but it's not a proper road. It's mostly used by walkers). I know these streets very well.

But then the men started to comment on what I was wearing (gym clothing, that are men’s wear, which I know isn't important but I thought of wearing something else but didn’t) and commenting on my body. Then they started to question if I was a boy or girl. Things got nasty quickly. I didn't reply, didn't turn around and didn't run. I was taught to do these things. I was playing pokemon go and the men had commented on this so I was scared to try and take their photo or call someone.

Because I didn't answer and i can only assume they saw my beard and nail varnish or maybe my body shape, they started to yell transaphobic things at me as well as sexual comments on my body, guessing what I had under my clothing. I keep telling myself that there is no way they could have known that I was trans, that they were just hoping to get a reaction, and when they didn't, they tried harder.

They threw rocks at me. I have cuts and bruises over my back, legs, arms and something hit me in the back of the head. But I didn't run because I couldn't risk them chasing me. So instead I continued walking like nothing was happening. I tried to show no fear as I could feel a panic attack building. But I didn't know how they would react if I reacted.

They yelled things calling me scum, an abomination, that I should kill myself or they could do that for me. They told me no one would miss me. Tr*nny waste of space. They followed me for a while until I turned onto a main road. Then one of them said that I wasn't worth it and they turned back on themselves.

Mum says there is no way they could have known I was trans, that I look masculine.But I don't think my body does. I had my hood up and was dressed all in black. But my clothing was actually my size instead of being 3 sizes too big. I don't know. I keep thinking what I did wrong. Why I didn't blend in.... Why I didn't pass as a cis male. What I did to be a target when I didn't say a single word to them.

My dad keeps telling me I was assaulted and that it's a hate crime. I'm not sure what it was....

But mixed with the online hate and whatever it was with the 3 men, I want to do nothing but lay in bed, read and cry, as pathetic as that sounds. But right now, everything is a little bit too much.

I know I need to do something other than hide. But right now that’s all I want to do. I have no energy to be bright and bold and to be proud of who I am.

I know I have to deal with this sooner or later. But right now I pick later.

I don't know when I'll feel okay talking to people, even those close to me. I love and adore you, you all know who you are, but I'm sorry, I can't hold a conversation right now.

Honestly, I want to pretend I don't exist right now. That I'm not real. Which is why I'm reading a lot, because at least then I'm not me.

I love this blog. I love the people I’ve met. I work hard to create content and i genuinely adore what I do here, even if no one else does. Which is why I want to explain why I need to step back right now. Because I don't know, something in my head is telling me that if I didn't write a reason, then I'm abandoning this blog, which I know is stupid. A few weeks or months away isn't going to mean my blog disappears. But this blog and the people on here means a lot to me.

I'm keeping my queue going and I've been writing book reviews to post so it won't even feel like I've gone. I'm sorry I'm not replying to messages or asks, but right now, I can't. I will as soon as I come back properly (not just to update queue). I really hope you all understand.

I'll be back at some point. Maybe a few days after this has posted, or a few weeks, but I just don't know how long. I'm sorry.

I'll be okay, I just need to work through this and some other stuff so I'm not constantly having a breakdown.

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bloodraven55 · 5 years

Note

that line in 1 thin/g refers to torchwic/k this is why I don’t believe your analysis. A song about a rs which isn’t romantic just like atm. Ship songs have thought to be 1 sided love & it’s not. boo-p (Nor*), dct(pyrra*) & lmfn (su*). It’s going to be funny when BS becomes canon & not bb. Kerr/y was put on the spot of course he’s going to respond just like if he was asked about any other ship he’d given the same response. WR held hands & got coffee (m0n0 too) 2 so does that mean romance?

Weis/s made rub/y coffee & they held hands too but I guess since it’s not bb it can’t be considered romantic. You bb shippers will take any interactions between them as romantic. Zoomed out touching foreheads is romantic but a zoomed out cheek peck nope it can’t be romantic because that’d mean bb can’t happen. & I’m sure Kerr:y would give the same answer about any ship if asked about it onscreen.

And you know why she wasn’t accepting of su/n’s advances was because of her past relationship with Ada/m. Last time she fell for a good looking dude he turned into a monster who didn’t listen & actually care about her/equally. Unlike Ada/m su/n actually listened & she eventually saw that he wasn’t like Ada/m & she eventually fell for him. Ya/ng is a partner & best friend who she won’t leave because of that nothing romantic about it. Just like ili/a difference she actually had a 1 sided crush

You’re blocked for the seventh time, my dude, but please stop embarrassing yourself in my inbox. You’re just making yourself look like such a fool and it’s genuinely starting to get sad to watch.

I don’t even know where to start unpacking this idiocy but for the laughs let’s try.

1) Of course the line about the “candle’s flame” in One Thing is about Roman? When did I ever say it wasn’t? And I don’t know why you believe I think Roman and Neo’s relationship was romantic because I don’t... at all. In fact I strongly dislike the idea of shipping them and see them as totally platonic.

Is it because of my headcanon (i.e. something I don’t necessarily believe is whatsoever canon or true, it’s just a fun idea) that Neo is trans because if so I still don’t see how that would mean romance between her and Roman unless you actually don’t even slightly understand what being trans means.

And as for All That Matters not being romantic just like One Thing, well... yes, All That Matters isn’t romantic, it’s just indicative of feelings stronger than friendship. Whereas in One Thing Neo specifically refers to Roman as her friend. Both songs contain very strong emotion about the person they’re directed at but the context is entirely different since One Thing goes out of its way to platonicise the relationship and Roman and Neo never had a three-season long arc building a romance between them the way Blake and Yang did.

2) Ren and Jaune never showed constant annoyance towards Nora and Pyrrha respectively and both actually had serious emotional conversations to advance their relationship before becoming a couple (Jaune and Pyrrha about Pyrrha’s destiny and Ren and Nora about Kuroyuri and the Nuckelavee). Something Sun and Blake have never had, while what they have had is Blake being irritated by him non-stop for a whole season until he backed off to be her friend instead.

And what Blake and Yang have had is... serious emotional conversations about Adam and both of their personal issues (about Yang’s abandonment issues in Burning the Candle and Blake’s self-perceived problem of running away at Mountain Glenn) which they’ve never talked to anyone else about, much like Jaune and Pyrrha and Ren and Nora and utterly unlike Blake and Sun. Try harder, moron. Also it’s very funny how now you use R/enora as an example of a romantic relationship here whereas before you denied it being canon but I wouldn’t expect any less from you at this point.

3) Blake and Yang’s embrace and forehead touch was zoomed in and close up for most of the scene and only zoomed out at the very end after they’d already had their moment. Blake and Sun’s grandmotherly cheek peck was zoomed out the whole time and lasted all of one second.

The insane reaching you're having to do by this point is only making me think you’re absolutely terrified of B/umbleby happening to have to constantly spam people with so obviously objectively false bullshit like this instead of having some confidence in your opinions and just watching the show to find out what happens.

4) It was Strawberry Sunrises, not coffee, that Blake and Yang got together in After the Fall but I’ll let that slide. And I also never said anything to do with that nice little early moment of friendship between them meaning it was canon but then strawmanning is the only way you can even vaguely pretend to have a point that makes sense so whatever. No, two people sharing a drink together doesn’t mean romance, the three-season long arc Blake and Yang shared that tied their personal storylines together irrevocably and linked into the main plot that directly paralleled Yang with Blake’s ex who identified Yang as filling the same role in Blake’s life as he used to (i.e. that of a romantic partner) means romance.

But of course you’d rather pretend that none of that means anything and make yourself look like even more of a colossal idiot because Adam never showed an iota of jealousy towards Sun and instead instantly dismissed him as merely Blake’s classmate. If that had been the other way round you would be jumping on it as evidence of B/lacksun, though, and we all know it.

5) Blake and Sun never became a couple because she was still feeling the effects of Adam’s abuse? Well, Blake and Yang managed to develop the beginnings of a romance perfectly fine during the same time period because Yang actually showed Blake that she understood her, and also never stalked her halfway across the world and reminded her of Adam but sure. Maybe you’re actually right.

But even if that was the case all it would prove is that Sun has no clue how to correctly approach Blake romantically as an abuse victim, and adding to all the times canon showed how little he understands her, so it would still only further prove that B/lacksun wouldn’t work as a romantic relationship instead of the other way around.

I’m not going to give you another proper response after this, because I have better things to do with my life and the only reason I replied to this one was because your “arguments” were somehow even more nonsensical than usual and it was actually fun to point out just how completely garbage they are, but I want you to think long and hard about whether the better thing for you to do would be to continue pointlessly harassing people and making yourself look like a creepy insecure pathetic loser or to just leave people the fuck alone and see what happens in the show if you're so certain that you’re right.

Because you see, I have never ever even considered going to the tags and blogs of people I disagree with, let alone sending them hundreds of cowardly anon asks spewing shit at them. And the reason why is that I’m confident in what I think will happen and even if I’m wrong I’ll be able to handle it just fine with simply some disappointment before I move on.

But clearly you are far less secure in your opinions which is why you feel the need to seek attention this way even though it achieves nothing and only makes you seem like a complete asshole. So honestly even in the ridiculously unlikely event that you’re correct and B/umbleby never becomes canon, I’ll still feel like the winner here. And if B/umbleby does become canon, I won’t find it “funny” that B/lacksun didn’t, I’ll just be happily enjoying my ship and staying in my lane, because unlike you I’m not a petty douchebag.

#r/wby #b/umbleby #b/lacksun #r/enora #a/rkos #asks #anon asks #raven answers y'all #raven is salty about stuff

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 6 years

Note

Hey hey hey!! Glad to hear your blog is doing well! And when I heard your inbox is open for some spoopky requests I was so excited! Could I request: reader decided to go ghost hunting with Bokuto at an infamous abandoned building but it's actually just Kuroo and his gang creating jump scares? Kuroo gets some awesome shots of Bokuto jumping in the air and never lets the picture of Bokuto and the reader hugging for dear life down. Thanks!!!

honestly, thank you so much for requesting this!! i easily get stuck writing the same 3 characters so - enjoy!! 💖💖J

also p.s. you are the best, first shout out and request, what’s next for us lol

“Akaaaaashi,” Bokuto complained during their break atpractice. “I don’t know what to do with (Y/N) for Halloween!”

You two had already partaken in the usual fall activities; aday at the apple orchard ending in a hay ride, going to the pumpkin patch andgetting lost in a corn maize—all memories he treasured. Bokuto often foundhimself smiling as he’d go through the pictures on his phone from those days,especially the one of you beaming holding up the biggest pumpkin you couldfind. But now, it was nearing the end of October, and Halloween was fastapproaching.

“You’re going to the party together,” Akaashi repliedbluntly, wiping off sweat from his neck with a towel.

Bokuto covered his face with his own towel in exasperation.“It’s not enough!” Although you were attending the Fukurodani Halloween partytogether, he was blank on ideas to do alone. You had come up with the appleorchard and pumpkin patch and he wanted to take you somewhere this time.

Akaashi justshrugged. “Ask Kuroo, he might have an idea.”

Excited by this new prospect, immediately after practice hetexted his friend.

To: Kuroo Tetsurou

What should I do with(Y/N) for Halloween!!

He didn’t get a response until later that night.

From: Kuroo Tetsurou

What about going tothat abandoned school everyone talks about? Prime situation to get her to clingto you 😉

That seemed like to perfect idea to Bokuto; he’d never giveup the opportunity for you to hold onto him. Whenever you did it, he felt likehe could tackle anything the world threw at him!

When he suggested it to you at school the next day, you werehonestly surprised. Touched that he wanted to contribute to activity planningbut also apprehensive about the activity he chose. Upon seeing your confusedlook, he quickly countered, “We don’t have to if you have something else inmind!!” His own expression turning to panic.

“Seems…kinda scary,” you said.

He puffed out his chest, fists resting on his hips. “I’ll bethere the whole time to protect you!”

You giggled, getting an inkling as to why he suggested theabandoned building in the first place. Nodding your head, you agreed to go withhim. You hadn’t heard that scary ofthings about the place—as long as Bokuto was with you, how bad could it be?

Nope. You were wrong. This place was terrifying. You stoodon the dirt path leading up to the ominous, dark building up the hill; a chillcreeping along your spine that wasn’t from the cold wind rustling the leaves ofthe trees. It seemed even darker thanks to there being practically no moontonight, so you gratefully accepted the flashlight Bokuto handed you.

Pulling your coat closer around you and burying in your facein your scarf, you said warily, “Bo…”

He glanced worriedly at you—he hoped this wasn’t too muchfor you. And secretly, for his own sake he hoped it wasn’t scary either. “Wedon’t have to,” he offered sincerely.

You closed your eyes shut tight to steel your resolve andshoved a hand out towards him. “Just don’t let go of it, okay?”

His golden eyes gleamed at the request. Beaming, he tookyour gloved hand in his own, promising, “Never!” You headed up the pathtogether, your heart thudding faster with each step. Subconsciously you drewcloser to him as you crossed the threshold into the building.

He had to admit. This place was eerie. Just seeing acompletely empty school with desks and chairs strewn about, old paperslittering the floor; as if the students had just up and left one day made himfeel creeped out. It didn’t help that after telling Kuroo you had been up forthe idea he decided to share the ghost stories about this place.

Peering into one of the classrooms, he whispered, “You knowwhy this place was rumored to close?”

“It’s something scary, isn’t it?”

He smiled sheepishly, but you motioned for him to continue.You were already here; might as well get the full experience. “Some teacherwent crazy and killed some students; apparently their spirits still haunt thesehalls.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, c’mon there’s no way—” Your voicedying in your throat at the distant sound of something crashing in thebuilding. You froze, your hand gripping his way harder than he expected youpossibly could. “Did you hear that?”

He nodded, feeling a little spooked himself. “Probably justthe wind. There are a lot of broken windows in this place,” he reassured,mostly for you but also a little bit for him. You kept closer to him as youmoved deeper through the hallways. After a few minutes of silence, you wereable to relax and start checking out new parts of the school. You let yourselfdrift a bit from Bokuto; though your hand still firmly held in his.

A yelp escaped you when a chair down the hallway tippedover, followed by 2 more in succession. You stared at him wide-eyed in fear,but he just pulled you closer to him and kept creeping down the hallway. He wason high alert—those chairs couldn’t have fallen over on their own like that.Both of you practically jumped out of your skin as you passed a classroom andthe loudest crash he’d ever heard filled the dead silence.

You tugged on his arm away from the room as he turned toinvestigate. “Have you ever seen a horror movie?!” You pleaded to no avail. Hestuck his head into the empty room and you felt him stiffen almost immediately.“What?” You squeaked, your voice barely audible. He didn’t respond.

Mustering the courage to look yourself, you joined him. Uponseeing the smashed mirror on the other side of the classroom, your mouth wentdry. “We should go,” he said quietly.

“Hot chocolate on the way home?” You saw his lips curve intoa slight smile at that suggestion, nodding in agreement.

Turning to go, neither of you in the slightest were expected a dark figure to be standing behind youonly a few feet away. A scream ripped from your throat; Bokuto’s mixing with itas well. You felt his strong hands wrap around your upper arms, gripping themwith such a strength that made your hands tingle from circulation loss. Behindyour closed eyelids, a bright flash appeared, and your immediate irrationalthought was that not only were you about to be murdered by an unknown intruder,but you were now also being abducted.

Laughter erupted in the silence. Crazy but familiar laughter. Your eyes flew opento find Kuroo and other members of the Nekoma Volleyball Club standing beforeyou with flashlights. Kuroo was hunched over, his arms wrapped around hischest, laughing like a maniac.

“Kuroo!” You yelled.

Through his fits of laughter, he teased, “You should haveseen your faces! Oh wait,” he pulls out his phone showing a picture of the twoof you just seconds ago; Bokuto hanging on to you for dear life, “you can!”

As your heart rate slows down, you demand, “How did you evenknow we were here?”

“I was the one to suggest it!”

Of course. Bokuto went to him for advice and Kuroo took theopportunity to prank him. In all honesty, you were glad it was just Kuroo; youwere getting pretty freaked out. One glance at Bokuto though, and you knew youwere going to have to do some damage control. You held his hand all the wayhome, but he didn’t say much—his gloomy expression only getting worse. Thewhole point of the excursion was for youto cling to him, not the other wayaround!

It seemed Kuroo was determined to dig Bokuto’s grave,however, as later that night after you had successfully lifted his spirits alittle; Kuroo posted the picture on his Instagram with the caption:

The fearless ace of Fukurodani everyone!! 😂😂

Although you knew it was meant to be a joke, you couldn’timagine the state you were going to find Bokuto in when you entered hisbedroom. He was just lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. He feltsilly he had cowered beside you when he said he would protect you. Now what didyou think of him? He felt the bed dip as you laid down next to him and hewondered if you’d seen Kuroo’s post—maybe that’s why you were here.

You took a breath. “I had a really good time, Bo. Not goingto lie, I was pretty scared but,” he turned his head to find you twiddling withyour thumbs, “you were there so I felt safe the whole time.” His heart soared at those words. He reached his arms out to you and gathered you into his arms,squeezing you in a hug. You blushed pecking him on the nose. “You’re my fearless ace.”

His face lit up. “Hey hey hey! That’s me!”

“Yes it is,” you said lovingly, glad to havepulled him out of his slump.

#bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou scenario #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu #haikyuu halloween

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heaartsavior · 5 years

Note

✿✂✖♒

EVERYBODY SCREAM | accepting

✿ What do you think about public call out posts?

OOF IS THIS A LOADED QUESTION. I’m…only for it if the person really truly deserves it, receipts and all. If there is factual evidence that is shown that there is in fact a problem with this person, then I will absolutely support it. Especially if I’ve seen it and experienced it for myself first hand (looking at you fucking o.w. rp community).

✂ A fandom that you feel isn’t open and accepting?

SPEAKING OF O.W. I have never felt so victimized by one singular fandom as the fucking o.verw.at.ch fandom. Getting anon hate is whatever for me, I normally don’t let it bother me. But after getting harassed for not only my portrayal, but the fact that they had the absolute gall to say I was RPing with my friends for attention? I was ready to call it quits. And I did. It was so hard to not only RP a woman in that community, but to even be remotely looked at by people to want to RP with me. You were the only person I genuinely enjoyed interacting with and I didn’t get the pleasure of RPing with Becca back then, but it was a literal hell. I don’t regret abandoning my blog because that was where I got the worst harassment I have ever received online. All because I had differing headcanons from the masses. And apparently RP’d with you. But you know, you’re my friend so I win Hündin. Seriously, there has never been a fandom that was so much of a trash heap as this one.

I loved playing as M.ercy, I was finally able to put that German Studies certificate to good use with all that I did with her! But it wasn’t worth any of the harassment I got because of how I was playing her or just even playing her period. There are a lot of names I was called and a lot of things I went through that I’ve told you about, and it had really put me off of rping on here for a while. I got seriously burned by this community and it took my love of rping as my favorite characters because of that. I’m still so scared of sharing my headcanons and my ideas due to my experiences with them.

✖ How has Tumblr RP changed since you started?

A LOT ACTUALLY. I have no idea if you saw anything on the dash earlier, but boy howdy did it bring me back to the days of people using full sized gifs to RP. I sure as hell did that on my Eleanor (Bio.shock) blog. I’ve been tumblr RPing since RO.TG came out back in 2012. My sweet baby Tooth.iana whom I miss and love so much. When I stopped rping with her it was just getting to the point where people were starting to make icons to post with their replies. And then when I came back as Vanell.ope we were using the icons with everything. Going into Bio.shock as Eleanor is when FC’s started to become a thing, and I will forever stand by the one I chose for her bc it was so fitting. But it’s also when people started using gifs for reactions and replies! After that on my old Namine blog, it was when people just started to format their posts and replies to stuff. It’s also when we were used cropped gifs that were the correct icon size for replies as well. Astri.d is where the formatting really came into play. Not only that, but it’s when promos were becoming a thing too. Also FCs were becoming a heavily used thing as well (she was another one that I was really proud of for the FC). Nowadays there’s people with pretty graphics and icons with psds and all that hullabaloo (YALL ARE REALLY TALENTED I’M SERIOUS IT’S AMAZING).

But with the fun, there’s always the bad. Unfortunately, there was a rise in elitism with various rp communities (*kicks ov.erw.atch into the nine pits of satan’s bullocks with the dra.gon a.ge rp community*). There was a period where it was just too hard to have fun with certain fandoms and it was very disheartening. People either wouldn’t rp with you if you didn’t format your posts a certain way, or if you had a certain FC for a particular character. It was terrible and I’m so glad to see that we’re past it now.

♒ Thoughts on the fandom you’re currently rping in?

I’ve always loved the kh.rp community! I’ve been in it before and it never let me down, I met so many people here that I love and adore talking with. Especially now that there’s a messaging system (back when I just had my Nami blog we had to either do skype or just plain ol’ private inbox messages). This community has not only been kind to each other muses, but to duplicates. One of my fondest memories for rping has always been the Namine Apocalypse (Namiocalypse if you will) where all of us Nami muns just banded together for some great crack and comedy. Shout out to anyone who was around for that.

#kiibearer #♡ come on let’s go an play . ask #WOW THIS GOT LONG #thanks for reigniting my hatred #//cursing

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yourewelcomeforbeingmyfriend · 6 years

Text

Dear Friend - Part 1

Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean meets a girl on a new hunter website and begins an online romance. The only problem is, they don’t know who the other person is. Could their love for one another last only in the confines of the computer screen or will their desire for something more lead them to finally meet?

Warnings: None

A/N: This is a send up to my favorite movie - “You’ve Got Mail.” It’s also inspired by the movies “Shop Around the Corner,” “In the Good Old Summertime,” and the musical “She Loves Me,” which are all based on the same play. If you know any of those, then you probably know how this story will go, but it’s got a hunter twist to it, of course. I absolutely loved writing this so I hope you all enjoy it, too. A huge thanks to @hannahindie for letting me run thoughts by her and for betaing this for me.

There were very few things in Dean’s life nowadays that brought him pleasure: Led Zeppelin on the radio during their usual cross-country drives; that first bite of a burger – the crunch of the crisp lettuce mixing with the tenderness of the patty; that moment right before falling asleep when everything was quiet and at peace. Over the past six months, however, a new pleasure had crept into his life: the joy of receiving a message from her, HellsBelle25.

HellsBelle25 was all he knew her as, this woman who had in such a short amount of time stolen his heart. They met on a new internet forum for hunters. She had helped him with a spell he found in an old book. The page it was on had been so worn holes had poked through it, leaving the spell little more than a macabre Mad-Lib for anyone to fill in the blanks. Thankfully, this woman knew the book and apparently had a copy of her own to complete the missing pieces.

He’d never be able to say what drove him to it, but after her help literally saved his and Sam’s asses, something deep within in him told him to reach out and personally thank her.

Thanks for helping with that spell. We would’ve been toast if it weren’t for you. What’s your name, by the way? Maybe we’ve crossed paths before. – BabyDriver67

Anytime. Maybe one day you’ll be able to return the favor. But let’s not go through the trouble of names. Hunters’ lives are short enough as it is. Why not fill them with a little mystery ;) – HellsBelle25

And that was how his correspondence with HellsBelle25 started. In the following months they exchanged all sorts of things with each other. Tips on how to best kill various monsters, stories of their latest kills, interesting lore they’ve come across. Everything except their names. It drove Dean mad. Who was this woman he was falling so hard for? His mind’s eye went crazy with speculation. He longed to simply know her name so he could have the pleasure of letting it pass his lips. HellsBelle25, as endearing as it was, did not have the same melodious effect.

But still he pressed on, deciding it was better to have her and not know her name than risk losing her for the sake of that one identifier. Instead he continued talking to her about different aspects of his life.

Hey there,

I have a brother. I won’t let you know his name either, for the sake of mystery, but we’re really close. Right now he’s sawing logs on the bed here in our motel room. He’s a good hunter. Hard headed, but he always strives to do what’s right. He almost got out of the life when we were younger. He got into a good college and almost made something of himself. I was so mad at him when he left for school. My dad was, too. He was my best friend and he was abandoning me. Looking back on it, though, I wish it would’ve worked out for him to stay. The fact that he got into college after living most of our lives on the road is amazing. I hated school. It was just in the way of my freedom, but he was really good at it. I think right now he’s doing something great in the grand scheme of things, fighting monsters and that sort of thing, but he could’ve done something even greater if he had gotten out. But he said it was the right thing to do – leaving school when he did. That’s my brother for you, always doing the right thing. He’s a better man than me and you’d probably like him.

I know we said no names and no details and I’ll abide by that, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I look forward to your messages on here. There are few things in my life that I look forward to nowadays. Hell, there’s probably not been much I’ve ever looked forward to, isn’t that depressing? But logging on to this thing and seeing the little message notification makes my day better, because I know a message from you will make it better. Sorry, I know that might be weird to say, but it’s true.

There it was, Dean beginning to bear his soul to a mysterious stranger. He felt as though he just drew down his collar and exposed his jugular for the kill. After he hit send he immediately regretted it, but it was gone now, flitting off into hyperspace.

What made matters worse was how she took three days to respond. Every chance he got, he logged in to the site to see if she replied. He cursed inwardly, and once outwardly only to be met with confusion by Sam. One evening he logged in again, a last bit of hope before shutting himself off completely from future prospects, and found what he had been waiting for; a little number one positioned over an envelope icon. He had a new message. He could feel the vein in his temple throb with every beat of his heart as he clicked the icon and saw that the message was, in fact, from her.

Dear Friend,

I feel completely awful for letting such a message sit in my inbox for so long. I’m sure in other lines of business, saying you’ve been off the grid and unable to get to it seems like a lie, but I swear to you it’s the truth. Did you hear about the haunting in the Appalachians that’s been happening? Who knew that a small secluded section of the woods could be so infested with ghosts? It makes me think twice before going camping again.

Your brother sounds like a great man. I’m sure you’re proud of him, but from what you’ve told me about yourself, I’m sure he’s proud to have you as a brother, too. Try not to sell yourself so short. I have a brother, too. He’s not in the life like us, so I don’t get to see him all the time, but when I do it’s great. He’s got a wife and a cute little kid. Seeing him with his family, especially my little niece, reminds me why I’m doing all of this. It’s a crap life most days but it’s all to protect people like them.

As for the rest of it, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t agree. I find myself thinking about you. I pretend like we’re the oldest and dearest of friends, instead of what we really are: strangers who met over a summoning spell on the internet. There are times where I’ll be doing something mundane like making a sandwich or even reading through lore and I find myself wondering if you’re doing the same. What kind of sandwich does he like best? What is he hunting this week? What will he say next? I sit and wait impatiently for the impossibly slow motel internet to bring up the site so I can see if you’ve written. My foot shakes with impatience and I bite at my nails – a terrible habit that I’ve had since I was a child. I hold my breath as I wait to see that little envelope icon with a number over it. The rest of the world falls away to me. Monsters and ghosts be damned. I have a message – a message from you.

It’s becoming borderline dangerous. One day I could find myself trying to kill a vampire and my mind could slip to you, then boom – I could be the vampire’s treat.

You’re bad for business, BabyDriver67.

Like what you see? Want to read more of my stories? Check out my Masterlist

Tags:

@pinknerdpanda @hannahindie @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @trexrambling @narisjournal-blog @jensen-jarpad @notnaturalanahi @simplydaisys @keepcalmandcarryondean @mrswhozeewhatsis @katymacsupernatural @boxywrites @ellen-reincarnated1967 @ravengirl94 @amanda-teaches @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @masksandtruths @just-another-busy-fangirl @sis-tafics @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @not-so-natural-spn @feelmyroarrrr @sherlock44 @jobean12-blog @diariesofthebeautyobsessed @akshi8278

#spn fanfic #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #supernatural reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #stuff i wrote

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veryvirginvirgil · 6 years

Text

From the ground up 6

It's breakfast time, Yay! The garden gets done and society is explained. Somewhere in between threats are made.

Tw: threats

Masterpost of chapters

__________

Virgil scrambled up and tries the door. It opened this time, and he felt a sense of relief flood through him as he peeked into the hall. He saw what was either Logan or Patton walking away, it was hard to tell from behind. Virgil shut the door as silently as he could, following behind. The man walked into the kitchen.

Virgil followed to see Roman sitting at the table with a cup in hand, and Patton cooking. Logan sat down next to Roman. Virgil remained silent but walked over to where Patton was.

"Are you making breakfast?" Virgil asked. Patton jumped a little before laughing and nodding. "Want any help?" Patton pauses for a moment.

"That bowl of pankacke batter over there needs mixing, I was just heating up the pan and working on the bacon." He said, turning back to his pans. Virgil walked over to the bowl, grabbing a wooden spoon from the jar on the counter. He mixed it in, not quite sure what the individual parts where, but content in the knowledge that together they would make "pancake batter". He looked up to see Logan glaring at him, he looked back down at his work.

"Thanks for mixing Virgil, you can go get dressed now. Breakfast will be up in a few minutes," Patton said, grabbing the bowl and pouring the batter into the pan. Virgil walked back to his room, careful to keep the door open. He still didn't have his original clothes that the body came in, but the closet had two top most layers, one was back and the other red.

He took out the black one, placing in on his bed. He opened up the drawer to the tops, seeing three long sleeved and two short sleeved tops. He pulled out the grey short sleeved top, abandoning the yellow one. The bottoms where all various shades of blue, except two that where black and grey. He pulled out the black bottom, before grabbing a under garment, which where all white. There where some garments that where foot shaped that he abandoned all together. He changed quickly before getting back to the kitchen.

"I'm telling you that we need to head to town anyway!" Patton said, talking to the other two.

"I think we ought to finish the marathon! Come on, P!" Roman said, leaning dangerously far back in his chair. He had one had holding onto the table for support, and the other gesturing wildly in attempt to support his point.

"Stop leaning, Roman. I told you two that if we started a garden we'd have to finish it an maintain it." Logan said. Virgil walked around to behind Roman. Fairly certain that him falling back wouldn't be benifitual.

"Let's ask Virgil, what do you think we should do?" Patton said, turning towards him.

"What are the options?" Virgil asked.

"Patton wants to go shopping to get you some clothes and more food," Roman said throwing his hand towards him and then at Logan. "Logan wants to finish the garden, and I-" Roman let go of the table to place both hands on his chest. Virgil quickly caught the back of the chair to stop it from falling. He paused a moment, blinking, before he sat up and stopped leaning back in the chair with a sheepish smile. "Well I wanted to finish the marathonarathon and none of us can agree on what to do first."

"Well, the shopping can probably wait a day, I've got enough clothes and from what I gather we do still have enough food for it to wait. The garden would do well to be planted today, and after we finish up on that we can continue with the Disney." He said, letting go of Roman's chair to sit in another next to it. Logan eyed him silently.

"Why the garden? It's just as good today as tomorrow." Patton said, bringing over some plates covered in foods to the table.

"All your plants are in little boxes, they have tight roots so they can't eat the soil. The sooner they are free the more fruitful they will be." Virgil replied, before thanking Pattton for the food and pulling some of the breakfast on to his plate. Through the conversation of the meal he learned that the bacon was the meat, the eggs where the yellow bits of fluff, and the pancakes where the breadlike rounds. The orange juice was delightfully self explanatory.

After breakfast they all went out and began planting. Virgil did his best to help, as gardening was something he'd done before it wasn't very difficult. He knew the soil, and suggested where each plant would do best. He wasn't very familiar with all the plants, but he knew the soil and where it was richest.

"Are you sure we won't dig up anything else? I don't want more house guests to deal with," Logan asked at one point.

"Unless you plan on collecting worms, you'll be fine," was Virgil's reply.

It took a while, and. By the end all of them where sweaty and dirty, but the garden was complete. It was beautiful, the lush wildflowers complemented the new plants and crawling plant's where placed close to trees, as to one day grow up them.

As Roman finished the last plant he grinned at the others.

"It's so beautiful guys!" He said.

"I concur," Logan replied.

"All thanks to Virgil, helping us out!" Patton said, patting his back. Virgil grinned in response. The others glanced at each other before nodding.

"I'm sick of dirt, let's go wash up," Roman said, leading the way back to the house. Patton and Virgil chatted more about the garden, both of them think about how to get it watered properly. Roman and Patton both went to take showers first, leaving Virgil alone with Logan.

Virgil studied the bowl of fruits on the counter intently, a dense feeling of akwardness and worry enveloping him. He didn't particularly want to be alone with Logan, concerned that he'd trap him in his room again. Virgil could feel his eyes bearing into him, an intense and angry stare that chilled him.

"I don't know what you want with my family, but if you hurt them I will end you," Logan said, crossing his arms over his chest. Virgil continued to stare at the bowl in silence, not wanting to bother with a fight. They continued to wait in silence. When Patton walked in freshly dressed and only slightly damp Virgil dated look away from the fruit.

"Alright Virgil, you can use my bathroom while Logan uses the one closest to you guys. I already put your clothes from yesterday in there, so you'll be good. Just put your dirty clothes in the basket and wash up," Patton said, smiling.

"Thank you," he said, leaving the room quickly. He took his shower quickly, eger to get back into his original clothes. The monochromatic outfit wasn't bad, but he prefered his patchy purple jacket instead. It was softer, and smelled like his woods, with a hint of something Virgil couldn't identify. He wandered back to the kitchen, seeing Roman and Patton chatting. As he walked in Roman caught his eye and smiled. Patton turned and saw Virgil come in.

"Hey Virgil!" Patton said.

"Hello," Virgil said, sitting at the table.

"So, we were talking..." Roman said.

"And we were wondering," Patton said, sitting down across from Virgil.

"If you've ever been shopping before," Roman leaned onto the table.

"Or out in public in general?" Patton smiled.

"Umm... No? I don't think so?" Virgil replied. The way they asked mad him nervous.

"Well, it's time to learn!" Patton said.

"Disney can wait, we must explain the entirety of society to you!" Roman said.

"Alright?" Virgil said. The two then proceed to talk about society. Things like saying please and thank you and bless you at the proper times. What somethings are called, and connotations around certain words. It was a dizzying whirlwind of information.

"What's all this?" Logan asked, eyeing Virgil suspiciously.

"Just going over some stuff," Roman said, pulling out what was earlier refered to as a "phone".

"I think now's a wonderful time for a break. I need to check on my lasagnsa. Roman try not to overwhelm him. Logan, would you be a dear and peel those cucumbers on the counter? You know how Roman hates the skin of those in the salads!" Patton said, already rushing about the kitchen.

Roamn sat back, fiddling with his phone. While Patton and Logan worked Virgil sat back. His head was swimming with all the knowledge he'd learned. For once he was grateful for Logan's bluntness, as it gave him time to process.

If this was the basics, he didn't know how he'd handle the shopping trip.

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

Part 7

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

Ok so, pretty soon I'm gonna be changing the formatting on these when it comes to linking all the parts, because I expect there to be alot more! I haven't decided on a style yet but there will be change. Along with the new formatting, there will be a kinda b plot introduced once I hit 1,500 followers. The b plot will introduce a new character for you to interact with on the ask blog @fromthegrounduprp . I hope you look forward to what's up and coming as much as I am.

----------

Tag list:

@changeling-ash @demonickittykat @internallyexplodingrainbows @astraastro @theinsanelycooljaredkleinmen @virgils-hoodie @ccecode @avoidingmyproblemswithart @just-another-transblog @awkwardeko6 @fight-me-in-a-parking-lot @addieshay @thepoolofthedead @4teamsweetflips @milomeepit @magicmagistro @halffictional

---------

@fromthegrounduprp always has an open inbox!

#from the ground up #vvvf #sander sides fic #sander sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #tw threats

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dagcutie · 3 years

Note

hi i didn't know which blog to ask this on so i did both just in case so i'm sorry about the duplicate 😭 but do you remember the title of the 10 things i hate about you fic? hope you have a nice day :))

hey!! omg im so sorry first of all for replying late and also because i never think about checking my fic side blog’s inbox and since i don’t get notifications there i always miss so many asks. i just saw that i have a lot of unanswered anons :( im so sorry im not really available rn and i hate it but i promise when i get back home on wednesday i will try to catch up with everything and reply to all of them<3 also please if you ever send me an ask on @fockingnice but you don’t see me replying to it feel free to send me one here to tell me to check my askbox. i don’t want to abandon this side blog bc i really like it but i don’t really have the time rn 😔

anyways so to answer you the 10 things i hate about you au is called persuasion by aesthetic70s it’s a wip but everyone should read it bc it’s really super cute

#i hope you have a greay day too<33 #great*#ask #anon

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dixiechip · 6 years

Text

Always - Part 8

This is the most recent part I have written for this so far and after the amount of hateful, anonymous comments left in my inbox after part 7, this may be the last part for this story.

KEY:

Thoughts

~Dream~

*** Time jump

~~~

Flashback

[His POV]

The sun streamed in through the window. I rubbed my eyes and turned my head towards her side of the bed. It was empty. I quickly got dressed and headed down the stairs. She sat in the middle of the living room floor and stared at the blood stains on the white tile floor. “Mornin’, girl. Ya alright?”

No reply. She didn’t even glance in my direction. I knelt in front of her and looked at her eyes. They were emotionless and dull. There was no life inside of them. There were no tears. I reached out and gently stroked her cheek. She jumped away from the touch and stood to her feet. She walked into the kitchen and I heard her digging through the cabinets.

Sadness filled my thoughts as I waited for her to return to the living room. She walked straight up the stairs to our bedroom. I sighed and started making breakfast. Once it was made, I climbed up the stairs and headed to our room to take her a plate but stopped in my tracks at the top of the stairs. My clothes, vest, shoes, and crossbow were laid outside the door of our bedroom.

Anger surged through my body and I threw the plate against the ground. She’s really gonna just shove me away? She’s gonna jus throw ma shit out and not speak to me? She ain’t playing fair. I didn’t do shit ta her and she wants ta treat me this way? I grabbed the shit and threw it into the room I used when I first arrived. I slammed the door as hard as I could behind me. Pictures shook and fell off the walls but I didn’t give a damn.

[Her POV]

I laid there on the bed, the bed where Beau abused me, and stared at the ceiling. Pain was my only thought. Throbbing coursed through my lower half and my wrist ached from yesterday. My throat was slightly swollen and my lip was fat. The vision in my right eye was blurred and had a red tint to it. The tears never fell from my eyes. My emotions were shut off. I could not handle them. The meds I took this morning had kicked in and I could not hardly move. The pain was the only thing I felt, pain and betrayal. He loved me. He cared for me. He abandoned me.

He loved me. He cared for me. He abandoned me.

My thoughts were on a continuous loop. The day turned to night and I still hadn’t moved from my position. Daryl stirred in his bedroom occasionally over the course of the day but the bedroom door never opened.

[His POV]

My anger faded over the next few days and turned into sadness. She left her room once a day to feed the mutt and go to the bathroom. She didn’t eat, drink, or sleep from what I could tell. I sat outside her bedroom door, trying to build up the courage to knock on the wooden door. With a shaky hand, I knocked gently but received no reply. I opened the door and found her laying on the bed with her eyes focused on the ceiling. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her with sad eyes. She didn’t take notice of my presence.

My voice shook as I spoke. “Please, don’t do this, girl. Don’t push me out. We might be the only thing each other has and I don’t want ya hatin me for the rest of yur life. I didn’t mean to disappear and I should’ve shot him the moment I saw him. I’m sorry I didn’t take care of ya.”

Her face remained expressionless but her fingertips touched my hand lightly. I held her hand in mine and slid beside her on the bed. I studied her face. Her lips quivered, her eyes glossed over and tears fell down her cheeks. I pulled her into my arms tightly and kissed her hair. I rubbed her back soothingly as she gripped onto me and finally let all her emotions out. It would be a long process but I knew she would be okay.

[Her POV]

I cried until I there were no more tears. Sleep overpowered me and I slept in his arms. Anger was no longer an emotion I felt towards him and all I wanted was comfort. I promised myself no one would hurt me that way again, that I would never be that weak. I promised myself I would fight harder and longer. I would never, ever be this weak again.

***

It’s been one weak since the incident. Nothing has been said about it and nothing will. Daryl did not speak to me much after I kicked him out of my room. I think he is upset with me but I hope he understood my need for space. We never touched after that night. I did not want anything physical. The area surrounding my farm was becoming more dangerous. Each morning, we found more and more walkers struggling against the fences of the property.

I stood, leaning against the counter, with a glass of water in my hand. I watched as he sat at the dining table and ate his breakfast. The dog sat beside him and waited for any scraps he might not want. My glass clinked against the granite countertop as I set it down. His eyes raised to mine briefly.

“We should start thinking about leaving this place. It’s not worth it to continue to build up the fences. We need walls, not barbed wire and wooden posts.” My voice was quiet but felt like screams piercing through the awkward silence.

He grunted in response before speaking. “What do ya suggest we take? What are we packing up? We could always take yur eighteen-wheeler with the reefer trailer to pack our shit in.” I nodded and thought it over. It would be a good idea. The trailer would have plenty of space and it has the bed in it for the night. We could also maybe take a pickup truck for small supply runs once we get settled in a new, safer place.

“Guess we’d better get packing then.” Tears pricked at my eyes but I blinked them away. This would be the last time I saw my home. I headed up the stairs with the dog on my heel. Once in the safety of my room, I yanked out a suitcase and began packing my clothes and other things I would need.

I walked down the hallway to my parents’ room. I unlocked the safe and cleared out the gun racks and ammo pockets. I did a quick inventory and grabbed a map. I circled the locations of a few gun shops outside of town in red ink. I threw the map, guns, and ammo in a large duffel. I tossed the cleaning kits in as well. I grabbed a few other things from my parents’ room before leaving. I set the bag of weapons by the stairs before entering my brother’s room. I searched through his closet before finding his old lock box. I opened it and found multiple knives in various sizes and colors. I closed the box and set it by the stairs too.

[His POV]

I heard her rummaging through the rooms upstairs while I dug through shit downstairs. I packed up some kitchen supplies and threw it in a laundry basket. I snatched up the canned foods and other non-perishables and tossed them in the basket also. Next, I searched through the coat closet and found some good blankets and jackets. She’ll want these. I heard her voice calling me from upstairs. “Hey, Dare, could you come get these bags? They are already packed but I want them by the door.”

I quickly ran up the stairs and grabbed two of the duffel bags. I walked towards her room and peeked in. “Where ya want em? By the back door?”

“Yea. That’ll work. We’ll go through the backyard to the barn. I need to go pack up some things from there.” I nodded and headed back down the steps. She followed behind me, carrying a suit case. She dropped it by the backdoor and then headed out to the barn.

About an hour passed before I joined her in the barn. The reefer trailer was wide open and she was up inside. She had packed some things and even managed to get six fifty-five-gallon barrels of fuel in the trailer. She secured them with chains so they would not roll or bust open. There were crates of non-perishable food stacked on top of one another. Her brother was one of them Doomsday preppers, always prepared for the worst. Ellie said he died before the outbreak.

I stood there and watched her for a bit. She had on ripped skinny jeans that exposed her gorgeous thighs. Her tank top was low cut and I could see the lace trim of her bra. Her hair was yanked up in a high pony tail and she had a flannel t-shirt tied around her hips. I chewed on my lip as I watched her and couldn’t help but stare.

“Ya gonna just stand there or ya gonna bring the bags and load em up?” Her voice pulled me from my thoughts and I nodded before heading to the house to grab our bags. This is gonna be a long day.

Tag List:

@jodiereedus22

@ocean-waves-that-misbehave

@coffeebooksandfandom

@taidye-perez

@somanyfandomstochoosefrom

@beltzboys2015-blog

@lillyrosegirl

@momc95

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imagines-corner · 6 years

Text

Forbidden: Liam Dunbar (Ch. 4)

pairing: Liam Dunbar x OC!Reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: lack of consciousness? creepy dreams?

summary: As tensions rise in Beacon Hills, the “Wonder Twins” are the only ones with the answers - and they don’t even know it.

a/n: Thank you so much for waiting this long for me to post again! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been in class/the shower/walking to work thinking about how badly I wanted to be writing. Luckily, I’ve successfully finished my first semester of college and I have almost a month of break to continue writing (and, since I’m not doing a field placement next semester, hopefully I’ll have more time? but no promises...). I really appreciate everyone who has decided this blog is good enough to wait around for! I hope I can continue to bring you content you can enjoy. For now, here’s the next chapter in this series, my inbox is always open, and I’ll see you soon!

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

CHAPTER 4: THE SPACE BETWEEN

“What’s going on?” Rowan screamed, “Liam, I’m driving!”

“She- she passed out!” Liam exclaimed, pulling himself into the back seat, “Keep driving!”

“Is she still breathing?” Rowan asked, his hands shaking against the wheel.

Liam’s hands wrapped around your torso, pulling you up into a sitting position. “She’s still breathing,” He confirmed, listening to your shallow breaths and slow heartbeat.

“Good God, she’s so stupid,” Rowan breathed, sniffling. He tried his hardest not to come off as weak, but he couldn’t help but feel a tear of relief roll down his cheek.

“Where are we going?” Liam asked, his jaw quivering from the stress of the previous moments. He held you in his arms, watching as your chest rose and fell slowly with every breath. He was focused on your pulse, listening as your heart tapped rhythmically.

“I dunno,” Rowan confessed, “I’m just driving.” His eyes were trained on the road, occasionally looking into the mirror to see if anyone was following them, and to watch Liam. Even though Rowan was hesitant to trust him, he could tell from the way Liam held you carefully that Liam was an ally. “Any ideas?”

Liam thought quickly, but he couldn’t think of a safe space that wouldn’t put everyone else in danger. “The clinic.”

“The clinic?” Rowan asked, “We’re gonna hide in an animal clinic?”

“It’s not just an animal clinic,” Liam replied, “He’s a friend… Of our kind.”

“Is he a friend of mine?”

“He’s more like you than I am.”

Rowan nodded. “Can you give me directions?”

“Yeah,” Liam spoke, feeling you stir as his eyes were off of you for a second, “We’re close.”

The school hallways were dark. The only source of light was from the moonlight that trickled in from the windows, giving everything a mysterious and eerie glow. An unnaturally cool breeze caused the hair on your neck to stand on end, signaling that there was something wrong. You looked around, the doors behind you shut tightly and the stairs leading up to the second floor darker than the rest of the hallway. You looked forward, the hallway ending in a mysterious darkness that you couldn’t explain.

There was an odd clicking noise coming from the distance as a feeling of fear came over you. You looked around frantically, trying to locate the creature that was causing this, but you couldn’t find it.

“Show yourself!” You exclaimed, stomping your foot on the ground.

Then, everything went black.

You sat up, gasping.

“Shit!” Rowan screamed, knocking a few things off of a metal table in the corner of the room, “You couldn’t have revived any quieter?”

You looked around frantically, trying to recognize your surroundings. You had been lying on a metal table, a bright light shining above your head, almost like a halo. The walls were covered in brick, with metal tables and cabinets surrounding the room, medical supplies stacking the shelves. There were several people in the room you didn’t recognize, standing amongst Liam and Rowan.

“Where are we?” You asked, rubbing your forehead.

“Beacon Hills Veterinary Clinic,” Scott McCall answered from the shadows across the room, “You’re safe here.”

You nodded, staring at the strangers who surrounded you. “What are we doing here?”

“Hiding,” Rowan spoke, “That… thing is clearly growing stronger.”

“Then why are we just hiding?” You asked, “Why aren’t we out there fighting it?”

All eyes stared at you while you sat there, confused.

“Because,” Liam mumbled, “You’re the strongest - and smartest - person here. We were waiting for you.”

You furrowed your brows. You had never believed that you were the stronger or smarter person of any group, especially among group of werewolves.

“We saw what you did back there,” Scott continued, “With Monroe.”

And I know what you’re really capable of, Rowan confessed, reminding you of your abilities through the shared memories of your practice sessions.

“That doesn’t mean I’m the one with the plan,” You corrected, “We don’t even know how to stop this thing.”

“Well, what do we know?” A girl asked, crossing her arms over her flannel covered shirt, stepping out of the shadows.

“We know it’s causing mass hysteria,” Liam answered.

“Anything else?” The girl asked.

“We can figure that out,” You suggested, looking at your twin. He looked up from the hem of his shirt, staring at you as if you had several heads.

“You can’t be serious,” He spoke, “You nearly got yourself killed out there because you were strained, and now you want to-“

“Rowan,” You spoke calmly, “Together. We’re stronger that way.”

“And you haven’t rested,” He breathed.

“Divination is nothing compared to what I did earlier,” You reminded him, “We’ve done this so many times. We can do it in our sleep.”

Rowan chuckled slightly. “You promise, the second you feel fatigued you’ll give up?”

“Fine,” You nodded, patting the cold metal table, “Let’s do this, brother.”

Rowan reluctantly walked over to the table, crossing over to the side opposite you so that, when you lied down, your heads were next to each other. With your legs dangling off the side of the table, Rowan raised his right arm over his head so that you could connect it with your left, linking your fingers to increase the connection.

“What are they doing?” The girl whispered, leaning over to Liam, “Some kind of freaky twin telepathy?”

“Something like that,” Liam nodded, watching as your eyes closed gently.

Are you ready? You asked, grasping Rowan’s hand tighter.

As ready as you are, He replied, taking one last breath before the two of you descended into a collective unconscious.

Rowan opened his eyes, his body shivering from the breeze that swept through the hallway. He looked over at you, watching as your eyes scanned the surroundings.

“I was here before,” You spoke, staring over at your brother. You took a few steps forward, stopping once the clicking noise began. “It’s here.”

Rowan looked around frantically. “Where?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know.” You continued down the hallway, grabbing Rowan’s hand and pulling him along into the darkness, following the clicking.

“Is this a good idea?” He asked. You shrugged in response and continued to pull him down the hallway, stopping when you saw two figures stare back at you.

“Do you recognize them?” You asked Rowan. He shook his head.

The two of them looked at each other, disappearing within a second. They were soon replaced by a taller, humanoid creature, one that stood off in the distance with its back turned.

“That’s it,” Rowan spoke. He took a step forward, leaving you behind as he went to inquire. The two of you knew that no permanent harm could come from these visions, only temporary pain that would grow dull once you woke. In your dreams, Rowan was fearless.

As he grew closer to the creature, you could feel the anticipation. Something was going to happen, something Rowan wasn’t going to expect-

Suddenly, the Anuk-Ite turned, staring Rowan down with its bright purple eyes. Immediately, Rowan turned to stone, disappearing as his mind was removed from the vision.

Instead of staying, you ran.

Rowan sat up, his chest heaving.

“What did you see?” Malia asked, “Did you figure out how to kill it?”

“No,” Rowan spoke, “But I know how it’ll kill us.” He looked over at you, watching as your chest rose and fell peacefully. He knew what you were dealing with was far from peaceful - something he learned the hard way - but he knew you would be the one to find the answers.

You always were.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” Liam asked, taking a step closer to the table.

“Don’t touch her,” Rowan warned, “She’s still looking for an answer. If you touch her, she’ll wake up.”

Liam nodded, removing his hands from the vicinity. Rowan climbed off the table, continuing to wait for you. He checked the time - he had been gone for 20 minutes, meaning you likely would be in this state for much longer.

And you were running out of time.

You ran for the doors, pushing your way through them to escape. What should’ve been the courtyard outside the school was actually an abandoned train station, the same one you had dreamt about when Beacon Hills was visited by the Wild Hunt. You turned, noticing that the door you had came through disappeared, leaving you alone in this station, trying to look for an answer.

As you wandered around the room, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Everything was still in its place from when you had last seen it, though this time instead of seeing the sea of semi-conscious people, it was just you.

“Dammit,” You sighed, throwing yourself down on one of the benches. You rubbed your face, putting together all of the pieces that had come together from this vision, but nothing remarkable was coming to you.

“Hello there.”

You jumped, throwing your hands in front of you as you turned to see the figure that was sitting behind you. She was a pretty young woman, with bright red curls that were pulled away from her face with a headband and tied up into a messy bun. She was wearing some kind of floral robe, one that you knew for certain your mother would disapprove of. In her hands sat a magazine and a pen, open to a crossword puzzle that she was doing.

“Hi,” You spoke, assuming a stance that was less threatening. “Who are you?”

“You know, if this wasn’t your dream, I would ask the same,” She smiled, “I’m Winnie. Winona, to most people. You’ve probably heard of me.”

Furrowing your brows, you thought for a second.

“You’re the dead aunt,” You replied, “My mother’s sister.”

“Ah yes. Sybil. She always did have a stick up her- irrelevant,” She shrugged, “I won’t talk about your mother that way.” She looked back down at her crossword puzzle before her eyes leaped back up at you. “Can you help me with this?”

“I was hoping you could help me,” You muttered, “But sure.” “I need an eight letter word for ‘high elevation.’”

Thinking to yourself for a second, you shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“Me neither,” She sighed, “I’ve never been good at these things. I was always more of a sudoku kind of girl.” She stuck the pen in her mouth, thinking, before removing it. “What about a seven letter word for ‘mandatory outfit.’”

“Uniform,” You replied, crossing your arms.

“Oh, the word starts with ‘M!’ An eight letter word meaning ‘high elevation’ that starts with ‘M?’”

“Mountain?” You asked, sitting across from her on a different bench. She smiled, nodding as she scribbled down the words before reading another one.

“How about a three letter word meaning ‘dusty residue.’ Ends with ‘H.’”

“Ash?” You suggested, receiving positive nods and hums from Winnie.

“Now, what was your question dear?”

“Have you ever heard of the Anuk-Ite?”

Winnie’s eyes widened. “Oh, no.”

You sat up, looking around.

“Did you get any answers?” Rowan asked. You looked at him, still sleepy and confused, before rubbing your eyes.

“She didn’t answer my question,” You sighed in frustration.

“I need a pen and paper,” Rowan demanded, looking around. Quickly, he was handed a sheet of white printer paper and a pen. “Describe it. What did you see after I left?”

You began describing what you had seen, even touching upon Winnie and her crossword puzzle.

“What did she ask you for?” Rowan asked.

“Weird words,” You replied, “Mountain, uniform, and ash.” Your eyes widened. “Mountain ash.”

“So,” Rowan spoke, “To recap. Two people were replaced by the humanoid.”

“Two halves make a whole,” Scott spoke from behind your brother, “The Anuk-Ite is two halves of one whole.”

“Then,” Rowan added, “I turned to stone when it looked at me. It turns people to stone.”

“I stood in the station from the Wild Hunt,” You continued, “It was released when the Wild Hunt came.”

“And we kill it with mountain ash,” Scott nodded.

“Good job, wonder twins,” Malia spoke, “It only took you an hour.”

“But now we have all the answers,” Liam reminded, “All we need is a game plan.”

“Out of all the bad ideas I’ve participated in,” Rowan sighed, “This is the worst.”

“Shut up and drive, Rowan,” Malia spoke, “Just because we’re separating you wonder twins doesn’t mean this is the end of the world.”

“I’m saying, this is a bad idea,” Rowan spoke, “We’re going where, again?”

“To the school,” Scott reminded from the back seat.

“To do what?”

“Fight the Anuk-Ite!” Malia yelled, “Do you really need me to remind you?”

“I’m just hoping the more you repeat it the dumber you’ll believe it is,” Rowan mumbled, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Do we have a choice?” Malia asked, “No, we don’t. Now, keep driving.”

#liam dunbar #liam dunbar imagine #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf #dylan sprayberry imagine #ic: forbidden

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crystarium-rose · 7 years

Photo

CRYSTARIUM-ROSE 700+ FOLLOW

I guess it is time to make one of these for the people I love right? Yeah. I guess so.Thank you to all 700 of you for follow this blog. I’ve been around for quite some time now (I think it’s been 5 years now?) And I have to say that the people I have come across are by far the best people I have come to interact with. Yes my activity sucks, yes I should be quicker to reply to you all and yes, I should be around more too. But to some of you, time isn’t a issue and when I decide to come back to this blog, you are always there waiting for me with open arms.

I could not have done it without the people I call family. Yes. Family. There are the people that I know if I haven't been here for over a year and they are around, I can just pop into their inbox and shout at them like Lightning always does. I love you guys. Thank you for always being there for me. You guys deserve a special shout out.

My Crystarium: @phylxrchus - My partner in crime. My go 2. my 3rd right hand. You have been with me since YOU started on this blog. And when I saw you appear on my dash, I told Tifa AKA lockedfigther "I NEED THIS NOCTIS RPer IN MY LIFE. HE NEEDS TO ROLE PLAY WITH ME." Now look at us. We are partners. Maybe not the best partners, but we are pretty good ones too. Outside of RP, you are just amazing. You always send me a text out of no where that just makes my day 10000 times better. You are always keeping my spirits up and you're just a sweet individual that EVERYONE needs to get to know and love just like I did. Like I said, you're one of my best friends and nothing will change that (hopefully). @lockedfighter - GIRL. You're the reason why I am writing this follow forever right now. YOU are the main reason to all of this. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have met my family and we wouldn't be who we are today. You're literally my light for this muse and all of my other ones too. You're the reason why I role play. You're the reason why all these people follow me. You did this. For both of us. We have known each other for 6 years now. And these 6 years have been amazing. You are my sister, my girl, My bubbles whatever you want me to call you. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be writing this all down and making these pretty banners. You did this. And I cannot thank you. I wish you all the best in your role playing experience and I wish for more adventures and fun with you soon. I love you baby girl, keep smiling. @immortalguardian - OH MAN. You and lockedfighter go hand in hand here. I met you on my other blog (brexthoftheplxnet) and I cannot be happier that I still know you til this day. You are my best bro. You've heard me laugh, cry, yell, scream, throw things, snore etc etc. You've seen it all. And I cannot be happier. With you back on here, roleplaying with everyone, it really makes me happy. Everything is right in this world. My circle is complete. I know what you're thinking. "When are you getting on Mercy so we can ship?" Soon my darling. Soon. I promise you that. I love you my guardian. Protect me when this next flood of 700 come in okay? @boop-the-planet - Hello my Sombra. Welcome to the FF Universe. You have snuck in but idgaf about that. You met me when I was on my FFVII blog (FinalFantasyVIIForever), I didn't know who you were, vice versa for me and now look at us. 7 years later and here we are. My nickname for you is "My Right Cheek" and people just look at us like "..She's your what now?" and you and I laugh. Most of the time we are N'sync (get it? good) and I just think that is insane. We are a million miles away yet, we are on the same wavelengths. We don't roleplay much (which is pretty pathetic) but hopefully that will change once I get Mercy rolling. Anyways, I love you to the moon and back. Stick around for a while. Enjoy the view ;) @howitzerximpact - OH JUSTIN, MY JUSTIN. You have make and abandoned so many blogs that I have lost track of them. I think this is your 6th blog now. Anyways, hey! Welcome back to my RP life with me again. Don't worry, im not going to ask you to marry me here too okay (wink wonk). Just like lockedfighter, boop-the-planet & immortalguardian, you've been through it all. The good times and bad, the better and for worse. You seen all sides of me and you still stuck around. Hopefully this muse sticks with you and we can interact on here as well. I love you this much (insert the size of Canada here). And don't you forget it. @jjillekkot - LAST BUT NEVER LEAST, My Darling white rose. MY Ninabean. My goodness, has time has flown. You, lockedfighter and I have known each other for far too long. And even though you and I don't talk as much as the others do, you're always on my mind. I am always thinking about you and how you are. Our lives have been so crazy since day one. Both of us graduated at the same time, we had our first jobs together, and now we are in our careers together. You're basically a sister to me man. it's fucking crazy just how much time we have known each other. But you're Yuffie has know Lightning for just as long too. Sure I haven't had her for as long at the blog has been up. But I told you first about Lightning and I have plotted about here before creating her on Tumblr. Anyways. You're my lil princess and I adore you babe. Stay strong, young one.

These are the people who make my experience so much more enjoyable on this site and hope to have many more adventures with you all.

The Army of Ones: @asouldivided @firixn @dragooniv @sanguinesaint @notavampirehere @aizstavis @darkprinceofjustice @lionseed @heavenscloudx @sanguinepeccatorum @gongagan-soldier @grxvidus @livandi@shockwavepulsars @caiiius @riotxblade @ablackwing @badassbarmaid @timidhero @papa-guna @adelicatefleur @goddess-of-glacians @triggerxhappy @aitaiiyo @runexxknight @adventurouswind @persuadedbyboko @blazeburning @lazuliss

Don’t feel disencouraged that you are not on my list. These are just people who has been with me through out my journey. Just send em a IM or a shout on the ask box and I will happily roleplay with you

Again, Thank you for making my time on here great, Here’s to the next 700 followers

-Jen.

#promo;#self promo;#follow forever;#ooc;

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buckybee · 7 years

Text

Once a bee learns to fly

Written for @acespnminibang

Author: ifonenight / buckybee Artist: Thette / @bold-sartorial-statement Rating: Mature Pairing(s): Dean Winchester/Castiel Word Count: 5195 Summary: Cas, ace as they come, hand makes sex toys as a job-slash-hobby, and wears things that make him feel pretty in his spare time. He’s doing well all by himself, but when a client, impalabatmobile-67, asks for a special tutorial, Cas will find himself intrigued. Author Notes: I wanted to write a story where Cas didn’t care for sex at all, but still enjoyed some things that society associate with sex. And how he lived it. Links to fic and art: FIC/ART

Mid September

The water was warm on Cas’ skin, chasing the last residues of sleep away. He tilted his head up, letting the spray hit him on his chin, nose, eyes, a last goodbye to the cozy atmosphere of his bed, and then turned the shower off, stepping out onto the worn out carpet. He shivered at the cold room - save money, save money, save money - and hurried to cocoon himself in his big towel, one of the only luxuries he allowed himself.

Mornings had always been hard for him. Waking up was really one of the worse parts of his days, which probably told something about himself he didn’t want to analyze too deeply. But alas, it had to be done.

He yawned, pulling on a soft pair of pants and an old sweater, and wandered in his tiny kitchen. Time to start the day, apparently.

Sitting at the kitchen table some time later, a cup of coffee and a snack on hand, Cas felt definitely readier to start his day. His laptop was silently coming to life in front of him, and he put his password in, lazily watching the enlarged photo of a bee appearing on the screen.

It was a nice picture, good quality and a lovely subject, and he smiled faintly at it; that had been a nice summer, the year he had taken it, mostly spent bonding with his sister and coming to terms - good terms - with his sexuality. It would always be a fond memory, captured in an almost monochrome photo.

As soon as all the icons settled on the screen he opened his browser, starting to type in the address bar - he need to check his email, couldn’t postpone his assignments any longer - but his eyes were caught by Tumblr’s little square, listed between his favourite websites on the home page.

He hesitated. He really should’ve started working on his essay, but he still had a week before he had to turn it in, and seeing how his business was doing wasn’t exactly the most irresponsible thing to do. Just a couple of minutes, ten at most, and then he would face the first, blank page of the essay.

His personal blog’s dashboard appeared on the screen, full of kittens’ videos and fandom posts, but he managed to resist the temptation and ignored them, quickly changing blog and switching to his professional one.

Dildos, lingerie, padded handcuffs, floggers, feathers, they were all there, showing up nicely in his layout. And he had had fun making every one of them.

His business was simple and entertaining, yes, if a bit unorthodox. Handmade sex-toys, not too expensive but of good quality, simple yet original, seemed to be well liked out there.

He had started making them for friends, fellow students who came to know about his art-and-craft skills by his brother.

They were the ones that actually suggested to expand his work to something less innocent than stuffed animals, only half-seriously. He treated it as a joke a first, giving a sparkling dildo to a girl as a birthday gift, making the toys funny rather than useful, but it turned out he was actually good at it and he had slowly got more and more requests, until he had decided to make a little business out of it; he had also started to offer advice and tutorials after a while, for free. He didn’t earn a lot, but it was still something, and it was nice.

Despite the endless teasing his brother subjected him to every time he saw him, Cas was quite happy with what he was doing.

It wasn’t fancy, or big, but it was a nice way to help paying for his everyday needs. And it wasn’t really demanding - he only had to do what he liked to do, and he usually found a way to include his work in his classes’ researches, and that made things pretty interesting.

His askbox warned him he had almost fifty new messages; opening it, he began to sort through them: a dozen were specific orders – mostly for dildos and collars; some were from shy anons exposing their problems with their sexuality or gender and asking for someone to listen – and he would have to answer them before the next day, as he didn’t like to leave that kind of asks lingering more than it was necessary; one was from a customer who hadn’t understood that this blog was only a catalogue and that, unless it was a custom made order, clients were to go to his Etsy, linked at the end of each toy post, and in his description, and in his FAQs, and buy his stuff there; finally, there was a request for a tutorial.

He send back a short reply to the inattentive customer, redirecting him to his shopping page, and then, curios, he scrolled up to the tutorial request.

impalabatmobile-67 asked:

hi! uh, i know this probably sounds weird, but can you make a tutorial for edible panties? i tried to make them myself but they, like, melted before i finished them, but your tutorial are always easy to follow so maybe i’ll understand what i’m missing here. i get it if they’re not your thing, don’t worry. thanks.

Edible panties. Well, that was new and he would have to do some research before giving instructions to anyone, a couple of tries maybe, but yes, it was doable. And kind of interesting, as he usually found new things to be.

Sex-aced-it answered:

It’s not “weird” at all, don’t worry. On the contrary, quite vanilla , I’d say. I will have to investigate a bit on how to make them, since it is new to me as – I suppose? - it was to you, but yes, I will make a tutorial about it.

Are you interested in underwear in general or panties specifically? And will they be for male or for female bodies? I don’t know if this will influence the product, but better safe than sorry. Were you thinking of classic candies and sweets or something else for the food? Let me know.

He checked the message again, and then sent it. He got up to make a peanut butter sandwich, taking his time to spread the butter meticulously on the bread, and took a bite while settling in front of his computer again. He refreshed the page automatically, his mind already on the essay, when he spotted a new message at the top of the page.

impalabatmobile-67 asked:

thanks man, you’re awesome. i guess underwear in general’d be fine, but my panties are for a guy. candies&sweets are good.

Before he could have done anything, another one arrived, and then another.

impalabatmobile-67 asked:

didn’t mean mine like *mine*, only that i asked for them. and, uh, can you not show my url when you’ll do the tutorial? it’s kinda personal. i probably sound like a repressed guy but my little brother is on tumblr as well and i don’t want him to see this.

impalabatmobile-67 asked:

sorry, i’m rambling. u didn’t need to know that.

Cas sighed a little and hit the ‘reply’ button again. This guy didn’t seem a jerk, only a little… lost. His essay would have had to wait apparently some more.

Sex-aced-it answers:

Again, please don’t worry. You don’t have to justify your actions with me and I’m not going to judge you. I completely understand wanting to keep your own business private. Have you already thought about the design? I could help you with that too if you’d like.

Unsurprisingly, impalabatmobile-67 answered only a couple of minutes later. He really had a piercing imagination.

They chatted for almost an hour, exchanging ideas about the shape and the size and what kind of flavors Dean would have preferred. He seemed nice, and when they said goodbye, Cas had a little smile on his lips.

Early October

“Do you have the munchies?,” Gabriel asked, and Cas could hear some sort of admiration in his tone.

“It’s for a project,” he answered distractedly, examining a licorice strip and carefully lowering it inside a paper bag.

His cart was full of similar bags, stuffed with candies. He wasn’t sure he could add them to the panties, actually, but Halloween was close anyway. Better safe than sorry.

“A project?,” Gabriel answered, amused. “For you porn blog?”

“It’s not a porn blog,” Cas answered automatically, passing the cart to Gabriel so he could ring everything up.

Gabriel snickered but didn’t press on. It was a familiar banter by now, nothing they couldn’t recite in their sleep.

“What is this project about anyway?,” Gabriel asked, giving Cas his change and rummaging on his desk, triumphally popping a lollipop in mouth once he found it.

“Edible panties,” Cas said, hiding a smile when Gabriel choked on his own spit. For all his flamboyant sexual life, his brother was definitely more of a prude than Cas himself was.

“You’d be such a perv, I swear,” Gabriel muttered, and Cas gave him a dirty look.

Gabriel rose his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know, you can be a perv right now, too,”

Cas just grabbed his bags and got out the shop, giving Gabriel the middle finger on his way out.

The ingredients were spread on the table, resting on a cheap table cloth.

Cas eyed them dubiously. The recipe seemed easy enough, but he wasn’t sure how resistant they could actually turn out to be. Or comfortable. Or igenic. Honestly, the idea of eating something that had rested on someone else’s crotch made him nauseous, but he guessed that once you swallowed what came out of a person’s genitals, you could brave anything.

He picked up his phone and shot Dean a message. They had abandoned the inbox a while ago and were using Tumblr’s messaging system now.

Sex-aced-it

I’m starting. I cannot guarantee a satysfing result though

Dean’s answers was almost immediate. Cas had warned him that he was going to try today, and apparently Dean was eager to know how it was going. He seemed very invested in these panties.

impalabatmobile-67

don’t worry 2 much about it man

impalabatmobile-67

i mean if they turn out a mess u can still eat them

Cas’ nose scrunched up and he looked down again at the table. The whole ensamble just didn’t look that appealing.

Sex-aced-it

If you say so

impalabatmobile-67

don’t u guys like sweet things?

Cas frowned down at the screen, leaning his hip against the table.

Sex-aced-it

What do you mean?

impalabatmobile-67

all those talks about cakes… made me wonder

It took Cas a moment to understand Dean’s allusion, and he found himself smiling when it clicked.

He could still go a little on the defensive sometimes, when the topic of his sexuality came up - and who could blame him, really? - but he found these sort of jokes funny, if a little cheesy.

impalabatmobile-67

im more a pie kind of guy myself

Sex-aced-it

Don’t you like cake at all?

impalabatmobile-67

oh I like cake alright at times ;)

Sex-aced-it

What was that wink for

impalabatmobile-67

like… cake as a metaphor for… someone ace?

impalabatmobile-67

nvm, it was dumb

Cas stared at his phone, the text clear on its white background. He admittedly wasn’t the best at social interaction, and social clues, in certain context, could be somewhat a mystery for him, but he most certainly wasn’t stupid.

Dean and him hadn’t started talking that long ago - a month at best - but Dean had been friendly and their interactions easygoing. And, sometimes, very clearly, flirty.

Not much, nothing over the top, just a joke here and a compliment there, but it was still more than Cas had done in some time, and definitely not something he usually did with his clients.

Dean seemed nice, though, and funny, and a little cute. Cas had always had a weak spot for cute boys.

But it still was only something to put a smile on his face after a tiring day - he didn’t stop to consider the implications, because he didn’t think there would have been any. Besides, an internet romance, without even knowing what Dean’s last name was, or where he lived, or what kind of skeletons he hid in his closet - Cas was brave, and he was reckless, but he had learnt self-preservation along the way. And this? This was not something he could endorse in in good conscience.

But here Dean was, with his lame lines and flustered-looking backtracking, and Cas’ walls had never been that solid to begin with, honestly.

He had started tapping an appropriate reply when a new message appeared under the last one.

impalabatmobile-67

so are u gonna try to make them??? i’m getting old here dude

And just like that, the moment was lost.

Late October

Parties at Charlie’s were always very liberal, very queer, and almost always tipsy, at the very least.

Cas, throwing back a shot of vodka, mused that Halloween was the least probable time to be an exception to the rule.

His corpet was starting to squeeze him a little too much, and his ankles ached, but there was no way in Hell he would have given up his costume now. Well, thinking about it, maybe the shoes could go, the stockings were the important part anyway…

He tried to lift his right foot and unfasten the lace of the stiletto, but the room suddenly started to shift and here he went, falling from his heels with an empty glass in his hand and oh god please let there not be any sharp edges on his way down-

Something strong and firm collided with his chest, but it was a gentle blow, and Cas found himself staring at an illustration of a yellow bat.

He looked up, questioning, and green eyes blinked down at him, surrounded by a black mask with pointed years.

Cas started giggling.

The masked man frowned and straightened him, passing an arm under his armpits to help him support his own weight.

“Are you okay?” he yelled in his ear, trying to make himself heard over the music, but Cas was laughing too hard to answer.

The man rolled his eyes - so green - and started to drag him over to the stairs that led to the upper floor. Cas weakly hit his cheek to get his attention. “Bridal style, bridal style!” he hooted when the man turned toward him, trying to throw his leg over the man’s arms and managed only to send them both staggering against a wall.

“Dude, I’m not bringing you upstairs in my arms,” the man grunted, tugging him on the first steps.

“But I’ve been saved by Batman!,” Cas protested, gripping the man’s shoulder for dear life now that they were climbing the stairs. “I demand it!”

“Jesus, you’re really in the part of Frank, aren’t you,” the man muttered, but Cas, a little dizzy, a little nauseous, could still see the amused smile on his lips.

He didn’t remember much after that.

"God,“ Cas lamented, trying to get his coffee machine to work. The smell of beans only had already cleared his head a little, but now he needed the real deal.

"Tell me about it,” Dean’s voice said, equally roughed, from Cas’s phone’s speakers.

Charlie’s Halloween party had been hard on Cas the night before, and apparently Dean had had a similar experience, if his pained tone was anything to go by.

“I was at this friend’s place,” Cas said, finally managing to turn the machine on. The scent of strong coffee rose from it, lazily diffusing in the air, and Cas had never known a sweeter blessing.

“Did you just moan?,” Dean’s voice came, a little belwidered, but Cas ignored it.

“I guess I had a little too much to drink,” he continued, pouring himself a cup of coffee and sighing in it, inhaling the fumes. “And then Batman saved me when I was about to fall on my face, and then I blacked out.” He reverently had a sip, and had to actively force himself to keep quiet, this time.

It took him a moment to realized the line was silent on the other side.

“Dean?,” he asked, catious, and Dean cleared his voice over the static.

“Were you wearing a Frank-N-Furter costume, by chance?,” he asked, voice neutral, and Cas froze.

“How do you know that?” he replied, confused and a little scared, but Dean didn’t say anything.

“Dean?,” Cas pressed, even though he should have had hung up, turned off the phone, what if Dean was a stalker, what if-

“Do you know Charlie?,” Dean finally said, and Cas’ heart almost stopped.

“How…?” he asked, and he heard Dean’s breath rushing out of him, amplified by the speakers.

“I think,” Dean said, very carefully, “that we have a common friend.”

Early November

The coffee-shop was crowded, but not unbearably so. Cas was sitting at one of the tables, near the window, nervously watching the street. Anxiety hadn’t really kicked in, but he was still a bit tense.

Rationally, he knew that this wasn’t like meeting a stranger, nor a person he wasn’t certain he could stand, but it was a big deal for him nonetheless. This was a relationship he had invested times and energy and feelings in, and if it didn’t work… He didn’t really want to think about that option.

Discovering that he and Dean lived in the same city had been kind of a shock.

Everything that Cas had been cautious of, that he had protected himself from thanks to the hypothetical distance between them, and the net’s impalpability, had suddenly came to knock at his door. Young feelings, still fragile and new, that were slowly twisting themselves inside Cas’ blood vessels and shooting right toward his heart, hidden among blood cells and oxygen.

And what was Cas supposed to do with them?

Meeting today had been a jump in the dark, that Dean had agreed to make with him. It had made the abyss a little less scary.

Still, perhaps arriving half an hour before the actual date hadn’t been the smartest idea he had ever had, since the more he waited, the more he freaked out. He sipped his water, checking his watch; he wasn’t supposed to be there for ten more minutes. He took another gulp, and then promptly choked on it when a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

He sputtered, coughing and trying to breath some air in, feeling the light weight of fingers gently rubbing his back.

“Cas? Are you okay? Come on buddy, don’t die on me now.”

Eventually managing to breathe again, he turned his head up to see Dean smiling down at him, eyes actually a bit worried, and still so, so green, and really, Cas realized, everything could be really going to be just fine.

“Assbutt” he rasped, cautiously taking a sip from his bottle and glaring at him.

Dean’s laughter was so much more breathtaking in person than on the phone.

Mid December

“I’ve been hurt before,” Cas said, quietly, on their maybe fifth or sixth date, while they were having dinner at Cas’ place, on Cas’ comfy carpet. A sort of indoor pic-nic.

Dean watched him attentively, warm and reassuring, but Cas kept fidgeting with a loose thread on the carpet, not looking up.

“When I was young, by my own doing, trying to feel things I couldn’t feel, and later, by partners who said that they understood and that sex wasn’t a requirement when instead… it was.”

He could see Dean’s hand twitching to reach out, but they weren’t yet at a point where they could just understand what the other needed without asking, and Cas was particular about touching.

Hiding a smile, Cas brushed his fingers against Dean’s, and let him squeeze his hand in his own.

“I need you to understand, Dean,” he started, trying to make his voice firm.

No matter how happy he was with himself, how comfortable, there was always a little voice in his head that whispered to him he was being selfish, unreasonable, when he did this kind of talks. But he had built himself so much stronger than those ugly murmurs, now. Let them come. He was not afraid.

“We will never have sex. Ever. I won’t start liking it just because I’m with you, and I won’t do it just to make you happy.”

He looked at Dean, trying to see any sign of discomfort, but Dean’s face was blank. It happened sometimes, when Dean wasn’t ready to let others know what he was thinking, but it wasn’t necessary a sign of something bad.

And then Cas felt fingers drawing gentle circles inside his wrist, and relaxed a little.

“No matter how turned on you get by something, if you try to pressure me in any way… I won’t react nicely.”

Dean still didn’t say anything, and Cas smiled quietly at him, bringing Dean’s hand to his lips to kiss it lightly.

“You can get turned on, though, masturbate, whatever you need. I’m not sex repulsed, just indifferent towards it in general. Moreover, I don’t mind being in a open relationship, if that’s what you want, but we would need to establish clear rules in that case, and it’s an another whole conversation,” he added, interlacing his fingers with Dean’s. “If you want to stay with me, these are the conditions. I’m done with my speech. Now it’s your turn. Did I weird you out? I didn’t mean to.”

Dean looked at him for a couple of seconds more, and then nodded. “Alright,” he said.

“Alright?,” Cas echoed.

“Alright,” Dean said, and grinned at him with his golden, beautiful eyes, and Cas, somehow, trusted him.

Late January

“I still can’t believe I got to do this,” Dean murmured against Cas’ skin, in the quiet of Cas’ bedroom.

Cas shivered a bit at that and settled better against Dean’s chest. “Doing what?,” he asked, even though he knew exactly what Dean was referring to.

“Touching you, smelling you, hell, even seeing you.” Dean traced light circles on his covered belly with his finger, resting his chin on Castiel’s shoulder. “Are you okay with this?” he asked, loosening the hug.

Cas grabbed his arm and tightened his hold again. - I am - he answered, turning his head for a kiss.

Dean gave it to him, and Cas thought that that Heaven his mother was always talking about when he was little could be found much easier than she thought. And then distracted himself because thinking about his mother in that moment seemed really a waste of time.

When they separated, both of them smiling like the idiots they were, Cas hold out a hand and gently freed himself from the embrace.

“Wait there,” he ordered, pointing the bed. While Dean obeyed, he took an anonymous bag out of his drawer and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He wasn’t completely sure of what he was about to do, but then again, when ever had he been completely sure about anything? It didn’t matter. It was for Dean, and for himself, too, and if it didn’t work out, well, nobody would be seriously hurt. A bit embarrassed, sure, but he could live with that. Dean would have never made him feel inadequate.

He undressed, folded his clothes, and opened the bag.

He took the stockings out first, feelings their softness between his fingers. They were beautiful, white silk and lace, and he couldn’t wait to wear them.

He put them on, careful not to break the texture, and spent some moments admiring his legs. Smooth and elegant, just like he liked them.

The white panties, adorned with black lace, were next, and he shivered a little at the feeling of them on his skin. He took his time adjusting them, and when he felt like they were good, he took the neutral lipstick out of the bag and turned toward the mirror above the sink.

His lips were chapped like always, but he couldn’t do much about it. Besides, Dean had never complained.

He uncapped the lipstick, and squeezed the tiny bottle to put some on his index finger. Watching his reflection in the mirror, he applied it on his bottom lips, and then pressed his lips together to spread them on the whole mouth. He cleaned the area around it a bit and smiled at his face in the glass, satisfied.

The thing was, Cas liked to be pretty. He liked to wear things that made him feel sensual, even though he didn’t care for others’ attraction toward him. If you asked him why, he probably couldn’t have explained it, but then again, the reason behind it wasn’t that important. It was all about sensations and nerves’ reaction to stimulus or something like that.

Dean had already seen him in flimsy clothes, but it was a costume, at the time. Just a mask, not the real Castiel, just being himself, in pretty lingerie. Showing off to his boyfriend in a way he never purposely did with anyone else.

Because Cas liked to be pretty, but he didn’t really like the attention that came with it. Or the expectations.

With Dean, though? Cas knew that Dean would look straight at him, and see exactly what Cas wanted to show him.

He turned to the bag once more, biting his lips. One last thing, and then he would be ready: a pair of black high heels, sleek and shiny.

The action of putting them on went less smoothly than the others - he stumbled and nearly fell into the tub, and had to yell at Dean he was fine and not to come in - but finally, everything was in place.

Taking a deep breath and shaking his head a bit, as in to clear it, he squared his shoulder and exited the bathroom.

Dean looked up from his hands in his lap and did a double-take, freezing on the spot.

Cas waited for his eyes to roam oh his body, taking him in, searching for what he could find sexy, but they remained fixated on his face, instead, without wandering even a little bit.

Actually, Dean seemed not be breathing at all.

It would have been hilarious if Cas hadn’t been so nervous.

“Dean?” he asked, finally, uncertain.

That seemed to shake him out of his trance, and he coughed, cleared his throat, and then diverted his eyes, fixing them somewhere on the wall.

“Cas, fuck” he answered, his voice lower and rougher than usual. “This is harder than I thought.”

Yeah, that wasn’t helping his nervousness at all.

“You said you would have liked it.” Cas said, confused and a bit mortified.

Dean let out a weak laugh. “I do, Cas, and that may be our problem here.”

Cas frowned, but after a moment, it clicked. It wasn’t difficult to understand what Dean was worried about, really. Cas should have anticipated it.

He approached the bed slowly, as if not to scare Dean, and sat next to him.

“Dean,” he called gently, and Dean shot him a look, but he apparently couldn’t maintain it.

“Dean,” Cas said again, taking of of his hands in his own. “You don’t have to be ashamed of your attraction, just like I don’t have to be for the lack of mine. I wore this because I knew you would have liked them, and I also knew how you would have liked them, and done it anyway. Your erection won’t make me uncomfortable.”

Dean twitched at the word, and Cas laughed quietly against his cheek.

“Stop worrying so much,” he said, kissing the side of his mouth. “You won’t hurt me. I promise.”

“I just,” Dean said, but didn’t continue.

“You just?,” Cas repeated, nudging him, with his cold nose against Dean’s neck.

“I just don’t want to do something, without meaning to, and scare you off,” Dean finished, looking at the ground.

“Oh, Dean.” Cas grabbed Dean’s face in his hands, gently, forcing him to look at Cas in the eyes. “Let me lead, okay? I promise I won’t let anything bad happening to us.”

Dean’s eyes were still doubtful, a little afraid light shining in them, but he nodded, and Cas released him.

“I feel good like this,” he said, taking back one of Dean’s hand, putting it right on his legs, on the soft fabric of the stocking. “I wore all of this as much for you as I did for me. Will you look at me, Dean? Tell me how pretty I am?”

Dean took a deep breath. “You’re always pretty, Cas.”

Cas stand up, letting go of his hand, and moved in front of him, between his knees. He put his palm under Dean’s chin and tilted his head up gently. Dean finally, finally, met his eyes on his own.

“Tell me again, like this,” Cas ordered him softly, smiling. Dean stayed still for a moment more, and then, surrendering, he slowly, hungrily, let his sight slide all over Castiel’s body. Cas felt it like a caress all over him, tender and butterfly light.

Once Dean’s look had reached his feet - and he had gasped loudly - his eyes met Cas’ own again, and they were dark and full of heat. “You’re beautiful.” he said, voice rough and full of awe. “So fucking beautiful, Cas.”

“As you are, my love,” Cas murmured, and letting himself be laid out on the bed, admired as a work of art, he thought that, yes, no matter how much it took for him to reach this point in life, it was well worth it.

July, years later

“Sam,” Cas groaned in his phone, blindly patting around on the bed to wake Dean up. Dean grunted and swatted his hand away, cocooning himself against Cas’ back, warm as a stove. Cas tried to roll away but Dean sneaked an arm around his middle, lightning fast.

“I hope this is important, Sam, it’s eight a.m. on a Sunday.”

“Sorry!,” Sam exclaimed, excitedly, not sounding sorry at all. “But I think I found an investor for your shop!”

Cas abruptly woke up, finally managing to disentangle himself from Dean, whose protest was apparently to slobber all over Cas’ pillow.

“What?,” he asked Sam, putting a pair of pants on and quietly exiting their bedroom.

“Yesterday I went to this corporate party,” Sam answered, talking one mile a minute, “and there was this very rich european lady who I somehow ended up talking about your project and she was really interested in it!”

“Somehow?,” Cas asked, distractly, heart pounding.

“Well I may have done some research before the party… But who cares, her name is Bela Talbot, ace as fuck, very kinky. Loves your idea. I’ll drop by later to explain everything?”

“Yeah,” Cas mumbled, still dumbfounded, and the line went dead.

He felt Dean padding into the room and then hugging him from behind.

“Everything’s alright?,” he asked, voice deep from sleep.

And Cas’ face broke into a smile, toothy and huge. “Yes. Alright.”

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