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musubiki · 2 months

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I forgot if you talked abt this, but does the whole "being on the same level as mochi" thing ever come up in honest conversation between them? Seems like an entire...thing that really influences lime's choices when it comes to the main conflict. I would think either some time after mochi's over her initial jealousy, or heck wayyy after they stop the witch king

oooo youre right i dont think ive talked much about it or at all.,... but YEAH a very key part of limes character is his need to be on the same level as her...partly a pride thing, partly a "i dont feel like i have the right to stand beside her unless i can compete with her" thing

(sorry for the long post rambles, apparently i have a lot more thoughts on this than i thought it did)

but actually this comes up WAY sooner, its WAY too big of an elephant in the room post-timeskip to go un-talked about. pre-timeskip lime could kind of quietly work away at trying to be better, but post-timeskip the m-34th thing is too obvious of a flag for mochi to think everything is okay with him

i think the issues really starts to be hashed out when mochi, at some point (relatively quickly after they reunite), brings up the notion of him quitting the m-34th. to an extent she understood why he joined, he gave her a bunch of reasons why he joined the regiment in the first place (jumping around a bunch of excuses like "They have good benefits" / "I was bored" / etc before finally telling her the truth that "I wanted to find you"), but what she didnt understand is why he stays in

she gave it a bit of time, they went through the whole "well you left me" vs "you joined the organization that exists to kill us" -> "call it even, water under the bridge" thing, and she thought that after a few weeks (months?) he would quit and just be part of her guild again, but he doesnt.

and when she asks him about it, he dodges the question, gives shit answers, dismisses it, a bunch of different things with the underlying message being "I'm not leaving you, but I'm not gonna quit working for them."

and she doesnt want to give him the "choose me or them" ultimatum either (even though pom seems all for it), because 1.) it feels like a shitty thing to do to him, if hes fighting this hard to stay in she doesnt want him to be unhappy, and 2.) shes afraid he might actually choose them

she starts to think a lot of things, that maybe he harbors some bitterness towards her, maybe he doesnt want to put all his eggs in one basket, maybe hes secretly feeding them information on her behind her back, ALL kinds of things.

eventually (and upsettingly) she gets the truth from clarinette. it takes fucking clarinette babbling her mouth away for mochi to get something that she hasnt gotten from lime himself. clarinette (in her delulu) wants to brag a little in the vein of "Haha he confided in me and not in you haha," and mentioned that when she asked him why he stays, he told her "The m-34th makes me stronger" or something along those lines.

and mochis first thought is "I can make him stronger too, he doesnt need to go to them."

and when she CONFRONTS him and tells him this, he gives her a flat "No, you can't." and it FEELS very cold when he says it. she can see the bitterness (bitterness???) behind his eyes when he says it. and its not a bitterness TOWARDS HER, its more of a "I spent 2 years before you left trying everything I could to make myself worthy of you this, and it did nothing. I would take 1 step forward and you would take 5. I'm not going back to that."

so this confrontation became one of those make it or break it conversations for lime, because his only two options were 1) tell mochi the actually pretty embarrassing and pathetic truth, or 2) risk losing her because shes already doubting him enough as it is

i think he probably tries route 2 first though. and whatever it is he tells her, he can see something in her eyes (mistrust? failing faith? fear?) which tells him "Oh no, oh shit, oh god, backtrack you idiot, BACKTRACK!!!" because if he lets this narrative go on for even a few minutes more, hes not going to be able to come back from it.

so he eventually actually does tell her the truth!! and he hates doing it. he really does feel pathetic. its so petty and stupid, he thinks. he shouldnt be trying to compete with the cat witch, hes supposed to be supportive. but he fucking hates being ONLY supportive. he wants to add something, contribute something meaningful, not just be a little accessory/sidekick to mochi.

and (as already mentioned) he cant do that without the m-34th. pre-timeskip he felt useless. and relative to mochi, he was. she wont say it, but she didnt need him. she would reassure him and tell him "You're amazing Lime!" but deep down she knew that after Amanita was dealt with and she was the full-fledged cat witch, she could do all of it on her own (and proves it when she leaves and takes none of them with her). she liked having him there (obviously), but anything he could do she could do better.

he felt like he just took up space, and when she left without telling him or taking him with her, it essentially proved his point. it was not even just a "I dont need you" thing anymore, it was now a "I don't need you, and I also know you don't have the means or ability to change that" and that fucking HURT.

the m-34th though....those guys really honed the shit out of his strengths. on an insane level. they gave him so many skills and tools as a black canvas to do SO MANY THINGS and SO WELL, and maybe this does bring up some resentment to the guild and magic?? that he had so much untapped potential that mochi could just not bring out in an effective way, it essentially bottlenecked him (not her fault, its hard to build the talents of an anti-magic person by using magic).

but these guys...as "bad" as they are (so the witches say), they gave him (and still give him) the power to change that which he hated about himself the most. so that "I don't need you, and I also know you don't have the means or ability to change that" thing can finally FINALLY be met with "Yeah you do, and yeah I fucking can."

so all these feelings manifest as "I won't leave the m-34th because they make me strong enough to stand by your side and not at your feet." AND THEY DO!!!!!! and he probably doesnt say those words directly but everything he DOES say communicates it enough for mochi to see it

(and he probably tells her all of this. she just listens)

so mochi, eventually, understands this. it took the whole pre-timeskip period and some of the post-timeskip period to get there, but she understands him a little more now (and a side of him she didnt know was there). i dont think theres anything she can do to change this aspect of him, but she at least understands his reasons and respects his freedom to pursue that which gives him peace, even if it conflicts with her uh.....occupation (nature?) as a witch. she also can tell him, without any lies or nice little reassurances that "You really are amazing, Lime." in a way she could never be, and he got there on his own, without her. i think shes happy just to know the truth, and know that hes not like betraying her or something. also she probably finds it kinda sweet that he works so hard to stand by her, but tries not to let it go to her head (or her heart) because at least half of it is a lime pride thing and not a mochi love thing

he also throws in a very lime-esq ending on it like "There I said it happy now??? Never make me talk about this again." while completely red-faced. he really does hate this side of himself but he cant help it.

#LONG ASS POST!!!!! sorry #good question....thats a lot of thoughts..#bpp #text #lore #he is a lot less riddled with anxiety post-timeskip #a lot more confident #and she does notice that #he gets a lot more cocky. much like when they were younger #contrasted to how uhhhh humbled he got pre-timeskip #she likes this version of him better honestly #pre-timeskip he wasnt as....happy #which sucks #you can genuinely see how the confidence boost the m-34th gave him changes his mood

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sugawarassoulmate · 2 years

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i just went through ur blog (ur writing is amazing btw it has me in a chokehold) and now i can't get virgin atsumu out of my head... especially virgin atsumu eating pussy for the first time but he can't help but hump the bed when going down on reader and he's surprisingly pretty good but it's so pathetic too bc at this point he's moaning more than actually eating reader out 🥹

i would be so mean to him LOL like he's just moaning and whining, humping the mattress and you're just like "i'm sorry, are you too excited?" atsumu's face is a deep red because he's so embarrassed that he's been caught. "should i just take care of myself then?"

and atsumu hates how the shame washes over him and goes straight to his dick. "no, no, i can do it!" but you're reaching for the drawer in your nightstand, pulling out your vibrator and pushing atsumu's head away from your thighs.

"no, i think it might be too much for you, tsumu." you cooed, turning the toy on and immediately placing it on your clit. "just watch me, okay?"

he could cry—this grown man could cry as he stares at your pussy, wanting so badly to get a taste but he ruined it and now he has to watch you cum around a stupid toy like a pathetic loser.

#haikyuu smut #haikyu smut #atsumu smut #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu smut #atsumu miya smut #atsumu miya x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #🍑#🍑atsumu #virgin!atsumu

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Casting couch scenario with him

Or special massage after a hard day by him?

I went with my Thunder thot.

Not All That Glitters

Warnings: implied noncon, coercion, blacklistic, manipulation, power imbalance. This is a dark fic and you are responsible for your own consumption. 18+ only. Proceed with caution.

Character: celebrity!Thor

Summary: A chance encounter with Hollywood's number one leading man leads to an offer you can't refuse.

Please leave some comments and a reblog. It keeps me motivated and I love any constructive feedback, screaming, keyboard smashes, etc. that you have to offer.

Enjoy!

You smile as a flash leaves a glaring ring in your vision. You resist the urge to shield your face from another shutter, moving carefully before the backdrop. You leave the clusters of photogs and walk the line of reporters and bobbing mics, calling for an interview or a snapshot.

Your name isn't among the rabble. You're a newcomer, fresh off a mid tier credited roll. Something that has your name fluttering through audition rooms but unlisted in the magazine. You'll be lucky to be featured on the up-and-coming rosters of aspiring actors.

As you wave politely, you're drawn in by a journalist with a big red mic, "hey, hey! Do you have a moment?"

"Um," you nod and step closer to the metal rail keeping the press at bay, "sure."

"You're in Caliber, right?" She asks, "new star, any other upcoming projects?"

You're slightly thrown off by the suddenness of it all but Hollywood never moves slow.

"Uh, yes, actually, I'm currently set to support in an adaptation of–"

"Oh! Oh!" The reporter nearly hits you with the microphone as you dodge her and shield your mouth. You realise you were only a placeholder for a desperate paparazzo, "Thor! Thor!"

You peek over as the tall blond strides casually, stopping to pose in his black tux, smiling at the lens brightly. So suave and cool, a veteran of the stomping ground you're trying to tiptoe onto. A-list, well beyond your directory.

You turn back and smile at the camera before it pans away. You hope that doesn't make the cut. Absolutely embarrassing.

You're jostled in the tight squeeze if interviewees as the reporter squeals louder and waves excitedly. As you sidle away, a warm hand catches your lower back. You stop short and look up, fighting to keep an unaffected veneer.

"Pardon," the statuesque blond rumbles in his deep voice, "I'll try not to get your toes."

You bat your lashes up at Thor Odinson, the star of every red carpet and every blockbuster.

"Excuse me, sorry," you murmur, "I was just–"

"Miss, can you move? You're in his way," the cameraman snaps.

"Oi," Thor utters and keeps his hand against you as he faces the reporter, "I was just coming to see my friend. Brilliant actress if I do say so myself."

You blink and hide before you muster a semblance of cool to look over, "uh, yeah, hi!"

You give a pathetic little wave up at him. He winks and leans in to peck your cheek, "play along."

You keep your smile plastered on and turn to the camera. Thor stays close, looming over you. Somehow, he's even bigger than on the screen.

"You… are you working together?" The woman asks as he raises the mic to him.

"Ah, well, we can't tell all our secrets," he teases, "but I am very excited for the future."

"Can't you give us something?" She preens.

"Sorry, we've got to go," he nudges you, "come on, sweetheart."

You move, too shocked to argue with him. That's one way to get attention. He urges you along, taking you away from the barriers.

"Ugh, right arses," he mutters as he smooths his jacket, "pardon me, but I hate how they treat us like circus animals."

"Us?" You whisper, thankfully unheard.

"I hope you didn't mind," he seems to recall himself and pivots to the flashing photogs, "smile, sweetheart, don't want them gossiping?"

He bends his arm behind you, posing as you raise your chin and do the same. Your disbelief keeps you quiet as you let him guide you along.

"Stick with me. One day, you'll be desperate to be away from it all."

"One day? That's optimistic," you reply as you walk with him behind the gabbing celebrities and their interviewers.

"Oh, I know a star when I see one," he follows you along, "and I know a few tricks."

⭐

After your brush with the towering heights of Hollywood, you take your seat with the rest of the extras among the array of sparkling stars. Your table is well out of the shot of the cameras, only caught in the background of the front runners. You don’t mind, the free champagne makes up for the overpriced gown bartered for a name drop of the designer.

You know several of the actors sat with you. They are on a similar level, dependable if not forgettable. You are the lot of ‘those ones’, those faces people swear they’ve seen before but can’t recall where.

Your adrenaline is still amped high and further stoked by the alcohol. You’re not nominated in name, only as part of the ensemble for the film. Still, the reviews were positive enough that you might just get to peek out over the shoulder of the director.

The pandering rolls on. You plaster on a smile for appearances but the presenters are predictable, the poorly landing jokes cringeworthy, and the winners expected. You swallow a yawn as an orchestra takes stage to perform a medley of songs nominated for score of the year. You hide behind your glass, trying not to betray your disillusion as many of the guests show a similar unrest.

“Eh,” you nearly spill on yourself as a hand rests on the back of your chair and you look up at the figure who is suddenly hunched close, “there you are.”

You blink at Thor and glance around the table. Malorie, stage name, Loren, shares a curious look before you face the blond star. Your smile grows effortless as you do.

“Hi,” you greet nervously.

“I didn’t want to lose you in the mix,” he keeps his voice quiet, beneath the sonorous strings, “you’ve a card? Number for your manager?”

You take a breath, stunned. He’s just humouring you. Hollywood is all appearances and he no doubt wants to maintain his veneer as the affable leading man. You play along.

“Oh, sure,” you reach for your clutch. You always carry a card around, it’s part of the job. You’ve gotten some of better roles shoving them in hands, “and thank you, for earlier. I’m still so embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? For what?” He says as he watches you, the heat gathering in your cheeks. It’s just the champagne, you need to slow down.

“Just… you know how ridiculous those interviewers can be,” you shrug and fish out a card, flicking it out between two manicured fingers, “here.”

He nearly covers your whole hand with his own, his other still firmly planted on the back of your chair. He takes it slowly, a lingering touch along your fingers as he looks down to read the type. His cheek dimples as his thumb grazes the raised font.

“You’ll get a call,” he promises, “I should be back to my table before I’m caught out.”

He leans in and to your surprise, pecks your cheek. You struggle not to recoil and give a tiny giggle instead. He gives a soft squeeze to your shoulder before he steps away. You watch him go, turning back slowly to the stable, stunned and stiff.

You clasp your clutch shut and leave it in your lap. You reach for your glass as Malorie leans over, “so how exactly do you know Mr. Ken Doll?”

“We ran into each other on the carpet,” you scoff, “he’s just being polite.”

“Honey,” she speaks behind her hand, “do you know what a PR stunt could do for you? Especially with that man?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You think he’s gonna call you to be his co-star, mm mm. No, sweetie, he’s on the rebound and he needs a humble little lover to bring him down to earth. You know the game. Same as me.”

“No, it’s nothing… he’s not going to call, either way. I’m not stupid. Like you said, I know the game.”

“That isn’t a courtesy,” she nods to him and you peer across to his table. He watches you, sending a wink in your direction, “that’s groundwork.”

You take a drink and look down at the table cloth. You pull your shoulders up dismissively, “whatever, you’re just mad I got that audition over you.”

“Pfft, save me the trouble of squeezing into a corset,” she waves her hand at you, “don’t whine to me when your tits feel like pancakes.”

⭐

“You got an audition,” your manager, Josie, chews into the speaker. You hold it away from your ear as her gum snaps noisily, “big one.”

“Oh?” You wonder as you go over a script, “when–”

“You’re going to have to drop out of that period piece if you get it,” she interjects, “and shouldn’t be an issue. Bigger check with this one.”

She’s always blunt, always to the point, but she’s better than your last agent. The one who emptied your bank account and disappeared. Lessons learned.

“Right, well, we’ll see. I might be able to work both.”

“I’m telling you, sweetheart, this is the real deal. Thor Odinson’s directorial debut. Starring and directing. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. For most people, it’s none in a lifetime.”

“Oh, wow, Thor? He called–”

“His agent did, legal team too. They’re very hush hush about this project so you’re gonna have to keep it zipped.”

“Okay, got it,” you say, “sounds… like a lot.”

“It’s what you’ve been waiting for, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just… I didn’t think he’d call.”

“Have you even had a look at your phone today?”

“What do you mean?” You toss the script on the table and stand.

“I know you hate reading the damn things, but the tabloids are going crazy about that kiss. I’ve been working overtime tryna get these damn vultures off my back. We gotta figure out how to work this.”

“Work what?”

“Leave it to me,” she chirps, “I’ll text you the time and the place for your audition. Remember, keep it quiet. Wear a hoodie or something.”

“Al–”

The line clicks before you can finish. You sigh and swipe away the ended call. She never says goodbye. You’re used to it. You press your thumb down and open the front page, pacing as you scroll down to Entertainment. ‘Winners and Losers…’ ‘Best Dressed’, the typical articles that follow a ceremony.

You stop before you can scroll past the small thumbnail. You squint and read the hyperlink, ‘Odinson moving on?’ You chew your lip and open the page. At the top, a picture of you and Thor on the carpet, one posed, the other with his shoulder to the camera as he speaks to you. A rather intimate scene.

You skim the article, your name pops up, a list of your less insignificant roles, and some leading questions to pad it out. A video ends the article and you frown. The candid moment that Thor pecked your cheek looks much more provocative from another angle.

Your phone buzzes and the message pops up in a bubble across the top. Malorie’s triumphant, ‘told ya so’ is quickly flicked away.

Well, as awkward as it is, this is your chance. Maybe your only to claim your spot among the stars or fade back to the obscurity of the endless Hollywood void.

⭐

You’re surprised to find the address listed is residential. You’re used to hotels or random studios. Nothing so fancy as the gated mansion in the hills. You steer your old beater up and hit the button on the speaker box, waiting for a response as you check your bag. The script arrived the day before, allowing little time for your preparation.

“Name?” The response comes, curt.

You give your name and your purpose but the microphone seems to cut before you finish. A loud buzz signals your admittance and the gate retracts to let you through. You lean on the pedal and continue up the sprawling drive.

You pull in behind a Benz and kill the engine. The contrast of the vehicles remind you how far out of your league you are. You get out of the car, gathering yourself and putting on that well-refined mask. Be calm, be cool, and just do what you know how to do. Act.

You go up to the front doors but resist the urge to lift the large brass knocker. It seems more ornamental than practical. You find the doorbell cam and hit the button, swaying impatiently.

A tall blond woman answers the door. Regal and unlike any maid you’ve ever seen. Her long peridot dress suggests anything but. In fact, you think you know her, at least by sight.

“Oh, you must be…” she chimes as she pulls you in by your hand, your other grasps your bag tightly, “we are so excited to have you here! Thor can’t wait to get started.”

“Ah, okay, thank you,” you say as she lets you go and sweeps around to shut the door.

“My, my, I’m sorry,” she checks her waved hair in a nearby mirror, “Frigga Vanir. Thor’s mother.”

“Frigga,” you’re breathless, “you’re his mother? You’re… you’re…”

“Oh, my day is well behind me,” she tuts, “but I’m flattered.”

“I… had no idea.”

“We try not to let it get out,” she puts a long finger to her lips, “we wouldn’t want any unkind assumptions about the family, yes?”

“I wouldn’t– won’t say anything,” you promise, “um, I think I’m confused. Is this… an audition or–”

“Of course! Thor just hates the whole pretense of studios, such a headache. Besides, this place is so big, we may as well get some use of it.”

“Makes sense,” you accept with a nod.

“This way,” she directs you up the left arm of the double staircase, “oh, dear, you must be so anxious. I do forget how it used to be. But you don’t need to worry. Thor showed me your last picture, what was it? Caliber? I loved it, dear, you are very talented.”

“That means a lot, especially from you,” you say as you follow her, hiking your bag up to your shoulder.

“After you’ve gone through the whole… process, we’re going to do a nice little dinner. You’re more than welcome to join.”

“Thank you, that’s so nice.”

“Don’t be so nervous,” she turns to you as she stops before a door, “you will do just fine. He’s already very fond of you, oh and you are so effortlessly endearing.” She touches your shoulder, “and I do prefer you to the one who came yesterday. She was… loud.”

“Thank you,” you smile as she reaches for the door handle, “um, before… before I go, can I just tell you that you were amazing in Eden. It’s one of my favourites.”

“You do not have to pander to me, dear,” she chuckles lightly.

“I’m not. I–” you clear your throat as you recall the monologue you learned in high school, “‘If we go any further, we cannot go back but—’” You look around, as if there is someone watching, “‘if we go no further, we will be lost forever.’”

She gives a slanted grin, “oh, you’re not lying.”

“I was a very obsessed teenager,” you laugh at yourself, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, go on,” he pushes down the petal shaped lever, “he’s waiting.”

You nod and turn as she waits for you to enter. You slip through and the door shuts behind you. It’s not what you expected. Any of it. The room is dimly lit, an artificial fireplace licking along one wall, as Thor sits on a chaise with his phone in hand. On the table next to him is a script and a legal pad.

“Er,” you begin nervously, “I’m here.”

You cringe at your own stupid declaration as his head pops up. He brightens and stands to greet you, “oh, you are. I did fear you might not come. Please, ignore any redundant messages I just sent.”

“Oh, uh, that’s fine, I’m sorry, I thought–”

“You’re one time, early,” he says as he approaches and offers his hand, “always a good impression.”

He bends and kisses your forehead before you can react. You say nothing. It’s not the worst you’ve encountered. Too many directors like to physically guide you around a set and they tend to have wandering hands.

“So, you read the script?” He asks as he retreats and sits again. He puts his phone aside and takes the script from the square table.

“I devoured it. It’s so interesting.”

“I can only take so much credit. My brother is a gifted writer,” he flips through the pages, “and you got my notes for the scene we’ll go over?”

“Yes, I think,” you put your bag down, “I think I got it.”

“I don’t mind if you read,” he says, “short notice and all.”

“No, no, I’m awful with a script in hand,” you give an awkward flutter of your fingers, “I’m ready.”

“Alright, so I’ll be Erikkson and you are Alva,” he sets the context, “remember that this is set during a snowstorm…”

You listen diligently as he lays it out. He’s sauve, a professional. The way he goes through it so naturally. You do wonder about the producers, there’s usually one around for auditions, or at least a casting director. You peek around, trying to find a lens, it’s at least standard to record.

You don’t question it. You don’t want to ruin this. You can’t just throw this away after years of scrimping and scraping for parts. You might finally be able to give up the server gig.

“We’re lost,” Thor begins the scene and looks at you, your cue.

“You’re lost,” you argue, “and stubborn.”

You go through the lines. They flow easily despite the late night cramming them into your brain. You follow your instinct, imagine the set around you, a whole swirl of snow gusting and guiding you. You don’t think, just go.

You finish the scene as Thor signals with a clap. His script is beside him. You only feel his gaze then, realise how intently he’s watching you.

“I like it. You’re… subtle. Natural. Exactly what we need.”

“I’m sure you have others to see still,” you say, “before you can make a decision.”

“My mind is made up, I want you,” he says.

“Really?” You can’t help but beam.

“Yes,” he beckons you over, “come here.”

“Um,” your lip twitches but you near him, “what’s up?”

“Well, there’s one more thing we should try, just before I call my casting director,” he pats the seat next to him.

“Okay…” you sit, nervously rubbing your palms together.

“You read the entire script?”

“Yep,” you answer.

“So you know… we– Erikkson and Alva, they kiss.”

You poke your tongue into your cheek, “uh, yeah, but that’s… standard.”

“Still, chemistry is everything,” he angles towards you, “I want to be sure you’re the one.”

“Well, wouldn’t that be better…” your voice trails off and you correct yourself, “yeah, I suppose.”

“It’s all business,” he assures, “if we don’t mesh, it could ruin the whole thing. Trust me, I’ve had some real dead fish.”

You try not to show your discomfort at his last comment. Dead fish? Is that how he sees actresses or women in general?

“Alright,” you shift, “I…”

He touches your cheek and leans in slowly. You tilt your head back and meet his lips as they descend. His beard tickles you as your mouths join and he slides his tongue out. You let him in, wanting to just get it done with and show him you can do anything he needs.

He hums and his hand slips around the back of your head, holding you against him. He smothers you hotly and you find it hard to breathe. You press against his chest, it’s enough to prove yourself. More than. He doesn’t budge.

He pushes you down against the couch, your legs crushed sideways under him as he follows you down. You babble into his mouth and clutch the fabric of his shirt. You bite down on his tongue and he parts at last with a hiss.

“Get off,” you shove him but he remains unmoved, “Thor, what– I think we got it.”

You try to sit up and force him off you but he keeps you trapped under him. He cradles your head, his thumb brushing your cheekbone, “you know how big this could be for you?”

You’re taken aback. His timbre grinds in his throat, different than before. His aura is suddenly dark and smoky around you. His eyes are dilated and endless. You shudder as you press your fingertips into his chest.

“I know but… I don’t want it. Get off.”

His eyes close and he remains as he is. His lip twitches and his jaw ticks. His breath scours you as he lets it out through his nose, your arms trembling beneath his weight.

“Do you know what happens when you say no?”

You gulp and bat your lashes as your eyes burn, “Thor, please, I can’t do this–”

“No, you don’t. Because the ones who say no aren’t heard from. Not in Hollywood. You say no right now and you say no to every director and producer in Hollywood. Hell, I could get you barred all the way to Broadway–”

“Thor, you don’t have to give me the part, alright? I just can’t–”

“You do it or you don’t work again. Not outside that bistro paying you pennies.”

Ice flows through your veins as his heat enwraps you, consuming you in fiery horror. You stare at him, speechless. It’s all you ever wanted but is it worth the cost?

“You’re so beautiful,” he purrs as he caresses your cheek, “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

“I’m just…” your mouth is dry, your tongue clumsy. You feel your stomach pit and swallow up your soul; a fair price for a dream you can’t let go, “surprised. I wasn’t prepared–”

“Baby, I’ll be good to you,” he grazes over your hair and cradles your head, “you just gotta let me…” his lips brush yours softly, “I’m gonna make you a star.”

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #celeb au #au #thor x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #avengers

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ferociousmochis · 1 year

Text

Best Friend's Brother

Elijah Mikaelson X Fem!Reader

Warnings: oral (fem receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, biting, a little blood, dominant Elijah/more submissive reader, shitty writing lol

When you first met it was like meeting your soulmate, you and Rebekah were the perfect duo. The two of you do practically everything together, that often meant spending most of your time with the Mikaelson family. That was never a problem, the way Klaus saw it was that it never hurt to have another little witch around. You practiced your magic with Freya, played pranks with Kol and even got under Klaus's skin. But Elijah always had a different effect on you, you never seemed to get along but you couldn't shake an unwavering attraction to him. You avoided each other, and when you didn't you bickered. A never ending cycle.

"Are you almost done in there?? Y/N?!"

"Just about-" you huffed, applying the last of your mascara.

"I spent a hour on this hair, if it gets messed up by the time you leave this bathroom I am going to rip your heart out"

"okay! okay! I'm good", you shot back.

"Finally", Rebekah sighed in an exaggerated tone of relief.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your coats. Rebekah had been waiting to go to this club all week, and of course you weren't going to let her go alone. The two of you clattered down the stairs in your heels giggling, your excited whispers echoing through the halls of the eerily quiet house.

The place resembled the rustic New Orleans atmosphere that most bars in this area had, the air smelled of cigarettes and bourbon. You sat by the bar and looked to the floor, watching Beka have the time of her life. It's been about an hour since you arrived and you desperately needed a drink. It didn't take long for your best friend to find her boy-toy for the night. They tangled together on the dance floor sloppily, making you laugh.

Only a few moments passed before a very generic looking guy approached you. He looked like another frat guy, definitely a tourist, probably seeking out a quick fuck to tell his friends about later. He sat uncomfortably close and offered you a drink, "No thanks.", you politely decline. He wraps an arm around your shoulders lazily, "Just loosen up a little", he pushes the drink closer in front of you.

Just then you hear a deep voice cut through the air behind you, "It would be wise for you to leave". The boy stood up aggressively, "I saw her first man". Elijah leaned in and whispered something in the his ear that made the color drain from his face. In a matter of seconds he was scrambling out the door nervously fumbling with his keys.

Elijah grabbed your arm and, in a blur, yanked you into a room.

"What were you thinking." he said angrily, unable to look at you. "Seriously?" you said in shock and disbelief. "Going out amongst all this filth, do you have any sense about you?" he snapped, you noticed his hands tensed and the veins in his neck protruding slightly. "I can handle myself, Elijah, thanks", you said rolling your eyes. "Really? It didn't seem like it when I whisked you away from that degenerate", he spat. Finally looking at you, his eyes burning holes into your skin. "I didn't need your help! What if I actually liked him?", you replied defiantly, attempting to prove a point.

He froze, "Are you that desperate for attention?", he said spinning around looking at you with disbelief and concern painted all over his face.

"I am not!"

"The slutty outfit, the pathetic boy, it all makes sense!" he laughed, his tone laced with mockery, making your face grow hot with anger and embarrassment. You turned to leave but he grabs your arm spinning you around to face him.

"If you wanted the attention you could have just asked for it.",

"Who said I ever needed anything from you, Elijah.", you hissed, trying to shake form his grip. "I can smell your arousal.", he smirked, taunting you in a painfully husky voice that paralyzed you. Was this a some kind of cruel joke? "You think I haven't noticed the way my voice alone makes you shift? Such a needy girl.", He backed you into a table. "Elijah.." you breathe stunned, "what if someone-" you begin, gesturing to the door. "This room is mine, I bought it", he said in a nonchalant manner, shrugging his suit jacket from his shoulders and loosening his tie, "Did you really think I was going to let you go out in this little dress with just my drunk sister to keep an eye on you?".

He lifts you onto the table with ease. You whimper as his cold fingers trail up your thighs, hiking up the short dress. "Already so wet and I've barely touched you", he rubs his thumb over your clothed entrance making you squirm. His hand grips your hip warning you to be still as he admires the sight before him. You spread open on a table, beautiful skin begging for his touch. He hooks his hands under your knees, bringing you forward in a swift motion. "Do you want me to stop" he says, his tone is serious. "Elijah.." you breathe, "I need to hear you say it", he whispers sternly.

"I need you."

His eyes clouded with an animalistic lust as he met your lips in a hot, desperate kiss. Your hands fumble with the buttons of his black dress shirt while his explore the curves of your body. You feel his hands slipping under your dress, pulling it over your head and exposing the black, lacy bra just barely covering your breasts. The sight is enough to break his noble exterior. He rips the thin material with ease, making you yelp in surprise. "I'll buy you more", he mumbles, kneading your breasts with his large hands. His mouth finds your nipple and you feel his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. You jolt with pleasure, the sensation lights a fire in your abdomen that has your hips squirming desperately for more.

His slender fingers find the band of your panties, pulling them down your legs while placing methodical kisses along your inner thigh. "Don't tease me, Elijah", You whimper, frustrated. His hand is quick to wrap itself around your throat, the cool metal of his ring biting into your skin, "you will take what you are given", he warned. His hand lingered there for a moment, admiring the way it made your eyes saturate with desperation. He trailed his hand between your breasts and over your stomach, sending a chill down your spine like an electric shock.

You could hardly comprehend when he buried his face between your thighs. Your legs were draped over his shoulders and his tongue traced patterns over your clit. Your breathing grew heavy and your whines more potent, only encouraging him to ease his middle finger into your weeping hole. You whined his name making him groan against your skin, sending vibrations to your core. His lips latched around the small bunch of nerves as he pulled you closer to your orgasm.

He rose to meet your face, never stopping his aggressive pace as he worked you with his hand. "So good", he breathes against your skin, "so good for me". The pathetic cries that fell from your lips when he added another finger could have made him finish right there. He filled you so good and the pleasure was blinding, you could feel the coil snap as you let go. His eyes roll back as he watched your face tighten and your lips part ever so slightly, reciting his name like a goddamn prayer. He removed his fingers promptly pushing them past your lips. You sucked greedily, determined to please him.

Breathless, he pulled the belt from his waist, making quick work of his dress pants. He didn't have the patience to be gentle, he needed you. He pulled you up to meet him as he thrusted into you in a quick motion. You felt as if you were being split in two, but it was a delicious pain. His forehead pressed against yours while he relished the feeling of your sopping cunt wrapped around him.

He began thrusting at a bruising pace, small tears trailing down your cheeks, "oh, poor baby can't take it can she?" he taunted. He was making it so hard to hold back your cries and he noticed. "Let them hear you," he growled, pulling your hair back to expose your neck, "let every sorry bastard in this place know who is fucking you stupid right now". He tugged harder on your hair, dragging a loud moan out of you.

You saw his face ripple, veins protruding from under his skin, and eyes glazing over. He sought for any signs of fear on your face, but only felt you clench around him instead. You should be afraid of this side of him but it excited you and he knew it. His face nestled into your shoulder and you felt the sharp pain of his fangs cutting through your skin, the pain mixed with pleasure was enough to quickly send you over the edge. He pulled away and kissed you hungrily, the metallic taste of your blood on his teeth overtook your senses as he fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own. Feeling you spasm on his cock was enough to leave him spilling inside of you, whispering your name into the soft skin of your neck.

He held onto you for awhile, afraid to let go, before pulling out. He lifted you into his arms, pulling you into a chair and holding you in his lap.

"I've always known about your little crush"

"Oh, really?"

"I suppose it's a good time to tell you I admire you too."

#elijah mikealson x reader #elijah mikaelson #elijah tvd #tvd #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries smut #the vampire diaries elijah #tvd elijah #tvd smut #tvd fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #smut #the originals #tvdu #elijah mikealson smut #elijah mikealson one shot #elijah mikealson imagine #tvd imagines

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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years

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can i request reader having family problems and her mom does something that makes her very upset so she goes to eddie for comfort? i’ve been going through this lately and i would really love comfort from eddie, i love your writing and i hope you’re doing okay, i love you sm <3

I really genuinely love this. Basing this off a night where I drove over to Justin's house from my abusive exes after getting in a really bad fight with him.

My fist raps against the door quietly, sniffling quietly in the dim light of the trailer park, my eyes carefully scanning my surroundings. I never come her this late at night let alone unannounced so I have little idea as to what I'm walking into.

I know that Eddie's uncle works nightshifts only because he's invited me over to smoke late at night but I've never had the guts to actually take him up on his offer, too scared to be alone with him at night, alone, in his home.

The bag on my shoulders starts to weigh on me, my muscles aching from walking and lugging my stuff around. My phone buzzes in my pocket, missed messages and calls from my family as they try so desperately to put back together what they broke.

The door opens abruptly in front of me, my throat closing up at the sight of Eddie's concerned eyes. He looks down at me, brows furrowed in confusion as he peeks outside, looking around a bit before sighing.

"Are you alone- how did you get here?" He laughs nervously, his tongue sweeping out over his lips before anxiously biting at them. "Did you walk here?"

"I walked, yeah." I fumble for the words as if they're escaping me every second that passes, his eyes making my brain short circuit in my place, pathetically standing in front of him, too afraid to tell him outright that I need help. "I'm sorry if you're busy-"

"No, no, not busy- never." He laughs, waving my concern off as he rubs a hand over his forehead. "Shit- sorry. Why don't you come in?" He blubbers out, cheeks tinted a pale pink in the dim light, his arm extending into his home as I step up into the trailer. I barely look around, my eyes glued to the floor as I slip my shoes off. "What's the bag for?" He asks, helping me slip it off my shoulders and he lets out a grunt, realizing how heavy the book bag is. He looks at me with wide eyes as I sit myself down on his couch, my knees bobbing up and down.

"I, uh, left home. Shit went down and I just can't go back." My words are vague but they're enough, Eddie's face paling in realization that I'm upset. He just nods and clears his throat.

"Shit, alright. Do you wanna stay here?" He offers, shuffling his feet beneath him as he stands in front of me, awkwardly swaying back and forth in the middle of the livingroom.

"Can I?" I choke out, reaching up to run my hands down my face, trying my best to not get consumed in the utter embarrassment that I feel. The last thing he needs is for some girl staying with him, clinging to him like a kicked puppy in need of attention.

"I mean, it's not the best bed and breakfast in Hawkins but I promise to be the best roommate I can be." He grins sheepishly, clasping his hands in front of him as my heart aches, the tears that have been pricking my eyes finally getting the best of me.

I let out a quiet whimper before breaking down into full on sobs.

"Hey, no- I'm sorry, I wanted to make you laugh." He's quick to apologize, sliding down onto the floor in front of me as his hands rest on the tops of my thighs, eyes pained with sympathy.

"It's not that, I just-" I gasp, air flooding my lungs as my fists rub at my eyes. "I just can't take care of myself right now and I had no clue where to go-"

"You can always come here." He cuts me off before I can even get the insecure words out, my eyes blinking a few times, lips parting in shock. He means his words, I can tell by the look in his eyes, almost as if he's trying to silently beg me to believe him.

"Really?" Shivering, Eddie smiles and tugs me down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around my waist and burying his face into my neck. I pause for a moment before tightly wrapping my arms around him, loud sobs tumbling from my lips at his comfort and affection.

"You can always stay here. I might make you smoke a ton of weed with me and drag you to hellfire but you can always crash here with me." He whispers against me, not caring that I'm leaving small teardrops on his shirt, not caring that I'm a snotty mess; he just wants me to feel safe, secure and helped. "It kinda helps when the girl who wants to bunk with you is kind of hot-"

"Eddie!" I giggle, leaning back to gawk at him, his smile only growing at the sight of dopey, silly grin.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi

@crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee @storytellingwitht

#eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic

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dragon-business · 5 months

Text

Majima versus Omi

Where Majima, once again, went on a self-sacrificial crusade to help someone he cares about. Yaaay.

But really, after talking about Tachibana siblings and discovering how close his and Kiryu’s experience and pain from that time are, Majima was quite disoriented. After all, Kiryu's already was a pretty integral part of his life and played a big role in Majima getting his freedom. And then this, too? Knowing they share this soul crushing experience they literally can’t share with anyone else? Ohboy, that’s a lot.

Sure, Majima made a lot of progress in getting his life back, and living for himself, even left yakuza and everything. But progress is not linear, and the sudden weight of care he doesn’t know what to do with made him backslide a bit. Made Majima go out on a stubborn limb and try protecting Kiryu (and all of his own men), by taking out the whole wave of Omi invasion all by himself. Sure, he pulled it off, but barely. Sadly, the hard hat can’t save from all the concussions.

And not to be that guy, but all the reservations about physical contact went out of the window when Kiryu rushed to hold Majima. And how he held him, uh oh.

Poor Majima, struggling to stay alert through the concussion and knowing there’s a wholeass woman there with them, really tried to apply the suave flirting game. This was very funny, they should've expanded on that, Majima probably rambled all the way Kaoru carried him to the hospital..

And we’re so here for that.

– Majima: you know what they say about hips!.. gotta have a good grasp on them! Kaoru, who has a figure if a solid stick:

- Majima be like: you're the nicest smelling woman I've met, very alluring And Kaoru: I've just spilled a beer on myself half an hour before, trying to eat grilled ribs as fast as I can to make it to the meeting with Kiryu in time Majima: mmmm… ribs……. I bet mine are fucked up hahahahh

– Majima, way later: and then I saw the boobs so beautiful I blacked out Kaoru: but you were talking all the way I was carrying you to the doctor's office? Majima: you were there???? Kaoru:

She really wanted to hit him, but he had enough. He's still not quite there fully, lots of painkillers for the ribs.

– Majima: if I die… you tell Kiryu (says something so embarrassing the nurse turns purple)

It needs to be something pathetic, desperate, and gay.

Like: “Nishida has the will, it's all legal, all yours, watch over the boys, I'll be watching you from the pits of hell and beyond, so you better not have that little scowl thing going on for me, you better be happy, yes. Also you should have more buttons on the shirt open, pls, I'll be watching, pop some open for me sometimes, that's my dying wish ._,”

He is sobbing a little and is ready to go on talking till he reaches his actual last words.

(if something happens to Majima, the people from his family are all getting settled too, ofc. everyone is covered)

Kaoru: I'm not saying all that. you ain't gonna die, get a grasp, bitch. Majima: fair. I would love to get a grasp of Kiryu before I die. Kaoru: of Kiryu's what? Majima, trying to make hand motions: of all of him… Kaoru: I think it's called a hug. Majima, tearing up: a hug…

– Majima will get a hell of a hospital visit later. Nishida would cry. Stoically, but obviously.

Oh, and in private he furiously asked him why. Why did he do this? And Majima answers, curtly and matter of fact: “Well. Kiryu is safe, ain’t he? And can do what he needs to do.” And this is. Really something.

Nishida watched Majima go from “I won't sit near him at lunch” straight to doing the most extreme shit for Kiryu. “For Tojo clan” my ass, he already left that circus.

Nishida thinks that Kiryu believes in the boss's power to survive… too firmly. This is a strong callback to the pier. Kiryu is too caught up in Majima’s energy of being able to crawl back out of anything. If Kiryu really believed that Majima got hurt really badly in the fight with Omi, he wouldn’t’ve pushed him onto Kaoru.

And maybe with the new Tachibana context Majima decided that he needs to be the guy who Doesn’t Die on Kiryu. You know. But he kinda missed the part where he got caught in the exact situation Tachibana was in. Kiryu believed that Tachibana could handle this terrible thing on his own for a bit, and went to do other things, and it ended in tragedy.

Oh Kiryu holding the person dear to him, while they bleed out in his arms, because he was too late. Yumi, Kazama, Rina – this list keeps growing ever since Tachibana, isn’t it.

And now Kiryu is clearly not thinking through his blind faith in Majima’s survival rates. Do you think he’ll be angry when Nishida, who’s very upset now, will tell him that he’s not seeing things clearly? Angry at himself, obviously. And a little bit at Majima, for doing this. (It is a mess of feelings, huh)

Nishida really needs to say something though. Because Kiryu believing in the legendary strong and smart Majima-san, the best manager and untouchable fighter is straight up infantalistic behaviour.

Majima generally wants to help people. He’s very good at it. But his self destructive urges get tangled in this too. He is also still repenting.

It can be a real hit for Kiryu – to realise that he was dragging Majima to the Mad Dog life without ever calling him that. Kiryu was doing to Majima what everyone did to him with the Dragon of Dojima expectations that are impossible to shake off because, well. Kiryu is also repenting.

So, for now, all Kiryu can do is come visit Majima in the hospital.

– before / navigation / next

#yakuza #kazumaji #goro majima #kiryu kazuma #kaoru sayama #kiwami 2 #this is canon now

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kinshenewa · 3 months

Text

Sun jumped on the bed excitedly, jostling Moon. Moon yelped, hurriedly protecting his origami collection he started.

"Sun! What the fuck?" Moon snapped, glaring at his brother.

"What if, what if, what if we invited the human here???" Sun babbled excitedly, jumping up and down on the bed. Moon sighed, collecting all the little origami things he made and dumping them onto his bedside table.

"I doubt she will willingly walk into our living area. We may be friends, but do you think a rabbit would enter a wolves den if invited?" Moon asked, and Sun paused.

"But WE aren't wolves, and she isn't a rabbit!" Sun said proudly.

Moon stood quickly and smacked the back of Sun's head, sending him tumbling onto the bed as Moon said, "It's a figure of speech, numbnuts."

Sun pouted up at his brother, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, yeah, but like.... She would if we invited her." Moon frowned, crossing his arms. Sun thought for a moment before adding, "We should offer sweets. She wouldn't say no to sweets."

Moon groaned, sitting back down. "Sun, I love you, but you can be a real dumbass sometimes." Moon said.

"Just you watch, I'm going to go bake an organic cake and lure Cadence here with it." Sun huffed, jumping up and leaving their shared bedroom.

Moon rolled his eyes, laying back on the bed and resuming his origami.

Around half an hour later, Moon could smell the sweet smell of a lemon cake being baked, and he smiled.

And around 2 hours after Sun had left, he came back into the room. "Heads up!" Sun exclaimed, and Moon heard a surprised yelp before something heavy landed on him. Moon looked up in surprise to see Cadence laying on top of him, both of them looking surprised.

"Sorry! Sor-sorry!" She stuttered as she scrambled off.

"Oh shit, it actually worked?" Moon stammered as he crawled back, both of them staring at each other awkwardly.

"I'm so smart!" Sun said boastfully, flopping onto the bed and jostling Moon and Cadence. Sun smiling happily, his rays poofing out as he reached over and wrapped his arm around Cadence's waist, pulling her close with a happy hum.

She blinked in surprise as he snuggled her like one would a dog, Sun nuzzling the top of her head with happy giggles.

"Alright, I guess I owe you an apology. I didn't think it would actually work." Moon said begrudgingly, crossing his arms and pouting.

"Don't beat yourself up about it. I love food and jump on the opportunity to get some." She chuckled, looking embarrassed.

"You remind me of chilli and, and, and gummy worms!" Sun exclaimed, aggressively nuzzling the top of her head.

"That's... a good thing, right?" She asked, and Sun nodded in the affirmative.

Sun got up, holding her like a teddy bear and leaving the room for a moment before coming back, still holding her and also now bringing in a little cake with white buttercream. Sun plopped down onto the bed, situating her onto his lap before picking up a fork and getting a bite.

He nudged the bite against her lips as he cooed, "Nom nom, eat the nom nom, tasty nom nom."

She chuckled, reaching for the fork as she said, "I can feed myself, thank you very much."

Sun moved the fork out of her reach as he whined, "But I want to feed you! I want to feed you the cake I made specifically for you!"

She growled softly, frowning. "You aren't gonna budge on this, are you?" She asked.

Sun shook his head as he said happily, "Nope!"

She groaned, rolling her eyes as she opened her mouth and took the bite. Sun perked up, happily getting her another bite.

"Sun, you are so pathetic sometimes." Moon chuckled, and Sun threw a pillow at him.

"Shut up. Nobody asked you." Sun said, not looking up from feeding the human.

Moon rolled his eyes as he caught the pillow, chuckling as he replied, "Alright, alright. Have fun, loser."

Sun huffed, shaking his head but not deigning a response.

#kinshenewas-writing #CJAU

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azrielgreen · 1 year

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Hey Az I was wondering if you had any advice on jealousy. Or more “envy” I guess. I know we should write for ourselves and try not to rely on external validation, but I find it so hard. I’m constantly comparing myself to other writers, seeing how many kudos and comments they got, wondering why I don’t measure up. Wondering why certain readers left a super long comment on a certain work and then a short one on mine. I don’t want to be resentful, and I know this feeling is toxic and bred from insecurity. I keep trying to improve and to find new ways to get over this mindset, but nothing seems to be working. I just obsess over why I’m not good enough, why I’m not on rec lists, or why readers stopped commenting when they had previously reacted to every other chapter. It’s embarrassing and pathetic to even type this all out, but I figured you’re the best person to go to with shit like this because you’re so honest. I keep coming to the conclusion that “if I was a better writer then I’d have better statistics, and people would stick with my stories, so I must suck.” I wonder if there is something I’m actually doing wrong technically or if my negative attitude is somehow seeping through the words I write. I don’t know. Maybe I just need therapy. But yes, any tips on how to not see others’ success as my failure?

Thank you so much for even reading this stream of consciousness diary entry. And thank you even more if you respond. xx

Hello lovely. I'm so sorry it took me so long to reply, I've been working my way through these and I wanted to devote a little more time to yours because this is a really common feeling that's rarely discussed.

So, envy and jealously about other writers is, I think, natural given the system used to publish fics (hit counters, kudos, etc...) and also the fact that this fandom is a very loud, wide open space. I've been in very small spaces before, sometimes with five or six people total in the entire ship and that was a very different vibe. I really wish more people get to experience that.

But this fandom and many others are large spaces now and they'll only get bigger so we have this constant comparison, even though not widely acknowledged, of who gets more readers, who gets recced, hits, kudos and comments. It's difficult not to compare, even when you know you shouldn't so what you're feeling is completely valid. External validation for writing can be really important and it's one of the reasons fanfic can be so gratifying, with comments to boost you up along the way.

The thing is, focusing on those elements will only ever harm your self esteem because once you tie your worth to a number, a percentage, literally anything quantifiable and reliant upon people other than yourself, you're doing damage to your mental health and your understanding of what is or isn't "good writing". There are so many beautiful, stunning, fucking life altering stories on AO3 that have a mere handful of kudos and under 100 hits and I don't know why. I don't know what if it's word of mouth, if it's reclists, length, tags, word counts, I have no idea what makes something a "hit", but here's what I do know.

I know that when you don't look at those numbers, when you instead look ahead to your future and where your writing will take you, those numbers really don't mean much. I've had plenty of "flops" and I love them so much, I go back and reread them even after orphaning them and I see that maybe two or three people commented, hardly anyone even read it, but that doesn't matter because I'm already on the next project.

You are good enough. You are so good, you're brilliant. You're unique and you know this too, deep down, otherwise you would never have started writing. What people do or don't respond to is more to do with them and their personal lives than you and your work.

My advice is to never look at other people's specific success numbers and compare. There are only two outcomes of this. Yours will be more and you'll feel good that more people read your work than others - you ego will inflate artificially, it'll be tied to this numerical system. Or, yours will be less and you'll be feel bad that your work wasn't read as much as others was - your sense of worth will shrink, and to remedy this, you'll feel the need to create content that drives up these numbers. This is a toxic spiral, and believe me, I know it very well. I would tell myself, years ago, if I didn't get 25 comments on a new chapter, the chapter was awful. I had the most awful time waiting for comments to hit 25 and I barely even read them.

Give yourself space. Reconnect with your creativity. Fill a journal. Make a playlist. Print out all your good comments and read them and then burn them. Read more, find your inspiration. Be so fucking proud of yourself, love what you make and stay away from those numbers because they make no sense and they never will. Trying to establish self worth from anything less than your own self will always backfire. I know this is super vague, but it's my honest opinion.

More specifically, for you, I want you to know that this feeling is transitional and it'll pass and you're going to look back and think, "Wow, I can't believe I ever cared about that." So hold on, keep going, fuck what anyone else thinks, and make your art, my darling. Good things are coming, I promise.

Az.

💜💜💜

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beardedmrbean · 1 year

Note

I'm scared of the dark. I'm old enough have grandbabies and I'm scared of the dark. I'm afraid I'll fall and hurt myself, or run into something and hurt myself or break something. I'm convinced that'll happen and no matter how much i tell myself that's irrational it just makes it worse cause it's like "so why am I so worried about it?" I feel pathetic.

nothing to be ashamed of, you are so very far from alone that it's not even funny.

Fairly long infographic in this link

goes over stuff, some I'm not entirely keen on but I'm also not a professional

You're fine with being spooked though, nothing to have any shame or embarrassment about, you're human and it's encoded in our DNA.

If it's causing you actual significant distress you'll want to consult a therapist they should be able to help get to the why if the why is more complicated than it being primal and then they can suggest different CBT (not that one you perverts, bless your hearts) things for moving past it or adapting.

Alternatively there is night lights, and they're great, and there's zero shame in using them either.

Just tell people you don't want to have to turn the regular lights on to go to the bathroom, which can be very true, so you have those to keep you from kicking a wayward animal or corner.

nothing wrong with going about it either way.

Keep a flashlight on your nightstand too, dreadfully useful things

#anonymous

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leohtttbriar · 1 year

Note

Choose violence 8, 10, 24 for Tolkien? :)

<3 when i saw you had sent me an ask, i blushed so hard i'm pretty sure i gave myself a mild fever. omg hi <3

also, so sorry but i def employed some tolkien-esque verbose-ness in answering these lol. especially the last one, whew. like, im embarrassed.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

what’s funny with the tolkien fandom is that the movie fans and the book fans have whole different spheres of bugaboos and Annoying Habits so it’s easy to vacillate between either camp when you keep encountering the Nonsense.

that being said, i one hundred percent consider myself a “book fan” and think movie fans are more annoying than all of us literates. like, they can’t help it—the movies are the source of most their ills— but as a rule movie fans are wrong about like all of the characters. as in, legolas isn’t mister stoic badass, sam isn’t More Heroic, aragorn isn’t pathetically reluctant, elrond is much prettier than hugo weaving, and denethor is not nutso (to name a few).

i would say, though, that book fans are generally really bad at figuring out what parts of the movies to pick on. like for years i’ve been so baffled by people still being angry over glorfindel’s exclusion in the fellowship movie and no offense to people who have read the silmarillion and the fellowship…but that was not only the best adaptational change but it also improves on the book. in that, sending arwen to guide them to rivendell and to physically hold frodo to her as she defended the last homely house with water horses, is an genuine story improvement—not just because lotr is a sausage fest and that Sucks but because it foreshadows arwen giving frodo her passage west, via a flight east, it lets arwen actually parallel luthien riding across middle earth on huan, which in turn gives arwen an equal sort of challenge in living up to a legacy, something that can thematically help aragorn live up to his, doing that thing tolkien does best and telling the same story over and over until the song finally scans and the rhyme resolves and the Big Story ends.

of course, the movies left out the arwen-giving-frodo-the-evenstar-gem thing so in terms of Sexism both media are equivalent.

i think book fans in general are wayyyyy too like faithful monk readers of the bible. and not even like medieval monk readers, where there’s a clear delineation between various interpretive approaches, going from the literal to the poetic in degree. no, tolkien fans i think have mistaken a rich creative world for something near perfection, to the point where they don’t really know how to explain why the amazon series is bad beyond “amazon is bad” and what makes tolkien’s fantasy unique. tolkien fans, in terms of pedantry, are worse than dune fans.

but yeah. everyone is wrong about glorfindel in fellowship. he is Not as interesting as arwen as a character and does Not really fit in the story.

10. worst part of fanon

definitely the freaks who treat genuine baddies as misunderstood kittens. like, i don’t feel very sorry for maedhros? also, why is the elrond-considers-maedhros-and-maglor-as-dads caucus in the tolkien fandom so loud??? look, there’s no arguing these are tragic and pathetic blorbos, and i personally love stories in which they seek atonement, but elrond had a dad. if i were elrond or elros, i wouldn’t even be considering letting someone else slot into that position. especially not with my dad constantly being in the sky, like a particularly unfair reminder. maedhros can be complicated and alluring, but i hate the fanon of him or maglor genuinely adopting the baby half-elves out of untainted goodwill. it softens them in a way that makes me like them less.

also, the fanon of people being like “tolkien wasn’t sexist. look at melian.” does that count as fanon? if so, i hate that too.

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

i feel like this goes for all fandoms, but by far any sort of accusation of racism in the work or in fan works is the most grenade-like kind of accusation one can lob.

with tolkien, i see a lot of people often focused on tolkien’s own opinions on “allegory,” and to be quite honest, anyone who uses that to say tolkien isn’t as racist as you might assume, is dumb as a rock.

tolkien’s frustration with "allegory" is the concept of 1 to 1 relationships. he didn't like when people were like "rohan is anglo saxon england" or "aragorn is [insert historical figure]" or any sort of reductive comparisons of lotr to real life figures and struggles in world war ii. (interestingly, however, he has said that dwarves were very inspired by jewish people. like, to the point that saying tolkien's dwarves are jewish is as accurate as saying shylock in merchant of venice is jewish--in that, they are characters in a story written by a christian who didn't really understand a whole heckuva lot about judaism. but that's a whole other topic.) and while that might tempt you to think that he therefore was not trying to represent any person or civilization from the real world in his books, unfortunately the core tenet of analytical reading is to assume deliberation over every single detail. you do in fact have to choose an idea before you write it down. and tolkien wrote the word "swarthy" one too many times for any of us to assume good-faith.

of course, there's also the claim of lotr not being as racist as the man (tolkien) likely was because art and the artist are not the same thing. and yeah. but again. "swarthy."

there is no easy answer to the whole death-of-the-author debate and questions over how much biography should be allowed in critical readings--at least no easy answer that doesn't just boil down to the simple demand to "think critically" (which isn't all that simple, in the end)--so i'm definitely not going to try to arrive at one now. but when it comes to tolkien's little made-up world, there are certain tropes in the fan interaction with it that make me somewhat queasy? like tolkien was so demonstrably inspired by real-world mythos and folklore that it is so easy to fit some of his characters and stories into real-world folk art and aesthetic. and to me there's a sliding scale of acceptable inspiration to maybe-we-shouldn't(?) inspiration. like when i see fan art that is labeled "indigenous tolkien," with no tribe or even geographic region specified, i find that weird.

and the reason i find that weird is the fundamental reason that i think discourse in fan circles over racial biases can get so rancid (unlike the discourse in non fan circles! just kidding, fandom discourse has nothing on a medievalist conference with a panel on white supremacy in the field, lol), and that reason is: tolkien's made-up world is not as made-up as the immersiveness of his world suggests. it is very rooted, and deliberately so, in the histories and folklore of western-european people (in particular) and thus the stories, the characters, the aesthetics, the ethics, and the themes are all off-shoots of these traditions. there is a missing element of material recognition in the interpretations of tolkien as really one thing or the other. material culture plays a much bigger role in the whole of all his arda-tales than is immediately obvious.

people want to give fantasy a pass when it comes to certain biases and they use that annoying allegory quote to do it with tolkien's work. because they are enlightened and do not project white supremacy and other legacies of colonialism onto a "made-up world." but tolkien would probably be the first to say that his work was built off fairy-stories, as a contribution to the genre.

he even goes on this relevant tangent at the beginning of "on fairy stories":

It is perhaps not unnatural that in England, the land where the love of the delicate and fine has often reappeared in art, fancy should in this matter turn towards the dainty and diminutive, as in France it went to court and put on powder and diamonds.

whether or not he's right about this distinction between english fairies and french fairies, this still shows that he considers the fantastical an expression of real and observable culture. therefore, despite the fact that it is bad-faith to read anything in tolkien as 1 to 1, he was trying to represent our world with his because he doesn't see the fairy/monstrous/supernatural as entirely separate from the physical/metaphysical or the human imagination. he was just trying to tell the same story that has always been told, from creation and onward.

so yeah. it is entirely valid to call aragorn's Specialness as a Special Sort of Human kind of fascist.

(and just as the rooted-ness of tolkien's fantasy world means that his work cannot escape accusations of bias, the rooted-ness also opens the way for a specific kind of progressive reading that is less about plugging one's ears to the bias but leaning into it. the real-world is more complex than one man can imagine it and when that one man is trying his hardest to represent the world, as any good writer would do regardless of genre, things will slip in to the story that the man chose but may not have understood. eowyn's speech about staying in the burning house is feminist thought even if tolkien would probably never have claimed it as such. the love between legolas and gimli is canonically transgressive and metaphysically-challenging--aspects of a love that tolkien probably would have assumed of gay love, in his time. if that makes sense. his biases don't define the art, even if they are present. especially since he was a very good writer and reader.)

#tolkien

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lzizzz · 6 months

Text

What did you think when you left me this way

by Lingering_Bastard

Chapter 3: We Live On

Ok, getting broken up with? Sucks.

In between the sobbing, every inhale bringing in an icy sharp breath that burns my throat, and tears streaming down my face onto Kev’s jacket sleeves, staining them black with mascara as I painfully swipe at my eyes; I suddenly realize a strong contender to the “this sucks” hierarchy. I mean, as stupid as it sounds, that in this very moment I can be thinking of anything other than walking out of that party a single woman.

These shoes might have been perfect to wear all night for an indoor party, but now with the reckless idea of walking home executed, blisters have begun to form at the back of my heels, and they hurt like a bitch.

So, getting your heart broken sucks, but wearing the wrong shoes to the break up is just slightly more criminal.

“You’ve got to be kidding, oh fuck.” I swear out loud, noticing the burning of skin is actually becoming unbearable, and pause my walk. Through bleary eyes I look around the empty street, noticing how much I’ve managed to walk, fiercely trapped in miserable sentiments. My breath comes out in puffs of white, a dying street lamp pitying me.

‘Well screw you, your only job is to light up and you can’t even do that right’

It’s colder out in the open, though with a warmed-up body all it does is numb my face. I’m just a few blocks from my house, that distance is mocking me more than my smeared makeup. With that thought, I wipe with dirty sleaves again. Geez, these tears are unrelenting.

“God I’m an embarrassment.” I mumble, kicking at the lamppost helplessly. It only flickers meekly in response.

I’m almost content to keep standing here, no movement to ignite the pain of the blisters, no huffing in chilly air rushing to get home. My mind starts drifting to my now seemly comfortable bed, still messy with clothes I was debating on wearing this night. Wrapped dinner in the fridge I could heat up, my appetite randomly coming back to life. And I did promise myself a hot chocolate. Ugh, and I have to wash my face before sleep even if I really don’t want to… I wonder if Kevin is still at the party. It's late, maybe he got sick of it and went home? Or maybe he went back inside, with his newfound single life, and instantly start flirting with someone once I left? There were so many hot people to pick from. I can visualize it now, him smashing down a few drinks, charming his way into a group of strangers. Oh shit, there was that one girl who had the hots for him, Leo? Yeah, she looked properly high and dressed to impress. He could be balls deep in her right now, I saw the top bedroom was empty, is he even the type to fuck after a breakup heck WE didn’t even go further than over the clothes stuff-

And I'm overthinking again.

As if the universe was sick of my pathetic head ramblings, a car passes through the street ahead of me, reminding me I am still crying in the middle of a random sidewalk at midnight and not at home, a better place to spiral into insecurity. Also, that car was a little off the middle lane, sir you are lucky I’m not a cop because that’s some drunk driving. I grit my teeth, pain be damned, do a once over around me finding I’m still pleasantly alone on this walk, and take off one reluctant step at a time towards my house.

Against better judgment, and still angry at the thought that my Ex is now ~thoroughly~ enjoying the party that is surely still raging on, I decide on a shortcut through the park. It’s not much of a park as it is a few bushes and a playground, used mainly by smoking school kids ditching class.

Thank a clear sky and a bright moon, I don’t see anyone waiting to stab me in the night for, what, a piece of gum in my front pocket and a beat-up phone? What a score. I still walk as briskly as possible.

Unfortunately, my worst enemy doesn’t come in the form of a stranger in the bushes, my wild imagination conjuring up images of horned demons coming for my skin rather than a bored serial killer.

No, my enemy stays at it as always been, mother nature herself.

It’s a gravel path, how hard can it be to walk a gravel path? I’ve passed the slides and swing set and am well on my way to the freedom of the next street when I stop paying attention to the ground, looking around the familiar houses, ready for the home stretch. Too focused on the routine picket fences rotting away in this forgotten suburbia: I trip over a goddamn stick.

My feet are already clumsy from the burning pain of blisters and strained from the walk, they don’t even try to catch my balance as I lurch forward, vision going black for a moment as my forehead hits those stupid posts they put in front of parks to stop cars swerving in and such. Well, stupid cars didn’t hit them, I did. And the forehead collision is followed up with my knees smacking into the concrete sidewalk hard.

I gasp, breathless and dizzy, falling to my shoulder, then rolling onto my back with the final momentum from my trip.

I don’t immediately acknowledge the pain, the hot blood now trickling down my forehead, or look down to my scraped knees. A night in which too much has happened in such a short amount of time, my attention drifts towards the stars. The stars that have seen this whole night: A whole meltdown and a half lasting from my bedroom, through a car trip, on a balcony next to a pool. All the events that led up to this entire predicament. A night that in storybooks would have been a heart-to-heart conversation of apologies and teary-eyed kisses and “I’ll never hurt you again” promises.

Not whatever this is.

Slowly, as if figuring out the right key to play, my brain halts all function. All thoughts buzz out and narrow into one solid, sorrowful feeling. A hurt that seemed so old, too out of place for my own head, passed on from a harrowed soul and thrust into me just so I could feel it too. Now, bubbling up from deep in my chest, I burst. Still, on the cold ground, the fiery hurt spreads through my body. A trembling mess, teeth biting into my covered arms trying to muffle sounds as excruciating wails and screams leave me without permission. My legs flail and kick, the air, the ground, the fucking feeling that was so unexplainable and agonizing.

This is what he did to me.

The short tantrum overstays its welcome, but I have the sense to know I’m a couple of blocks from my house from where I’m bleeding on this park pavement. As soon as I get up and dust whatever I can off, I almost run home. The pain of moving my sore limbs and bleeding soles is better than crying the night out at the park entrance, alerting concerned neighbors, and maybe earning a call to my parents.

I’m limping down my driveway, rather pissed at the automatic light sensor ratting me out. I pause for a beat, looking for movement in the windows. A sigh of relief escapes me, seems the surprise spotlight didn’t get me caught. Not that I’m sneaking back in, of course, I just look like a banshee leaving a funeral.

Rounding the house into the backyard, I sit on the decking and practically rip off the offending shoes, crying in relief as I free my feet. They aren’t bad shoes, they really aren’t. I’ll just have to tape up my heels next time. Sure. I still throw them onto the shoe pile the door without a care.

One hand dabs the blood on my forehead with the now ruined sleeves of this jacket, another quietly slides open the back door. Thank fuck mum left it open for me. I patter across the house, making it successfully to my bedroom without waking anyone. I really can’t deal with a talk right now; I wouldn’t know what to tell them. I’d probably just start crying again until someone drove up to Eva’s house and dragged her son across the front lawn. I almost smile at the thought of it. It’s just a bit too soon.

But it’s not too soon to change out of my party clothes into a comfortable hoodie to drown in. I patch up my knees before I tug on some sweatpants. Then in the bathroom, I wash off the makeup and patch up the rest. It’s gonna be bad, bruised. A lot of fun explaining to do but at least saying I was clumsy isn’t far from the truth.

Then, no doubt between despair and also anger, I grab Kev’s discarded, make-up-stained, and blood-soaked jacket. I really don’t want to wake anyone up, but this has to be done, it’s all my brain can think about. Over months of self-doubt and heartache over a stupid boy, I at least deserve to give myself the closure he didn’t give me. I creep outside again. Extremely carefully. Like- giving a cat burglar a run for their money, carefully. Stepping over the creaks and placing my feet down extra lightly. I can now enjoy the crisp night air, all snuggled up. A hoodie that smells like me, one that Kev had never even seen.

Without hesitation, I throw this stupid relic, the last remnants of our bond, into the fit pit. I don’t look away even when the smoke makes my eyes water.

I keep the fire burning until dawn, sneaking in once to grab my dinner. There is an unexplainable peace I felt at devouring the heated up leftovers, and of course, a nice big cup of hot chocolate to remedy my scrapes and bruises.

Mum finds me in the dewy morning, shivering and dull-eyed, still tending to the ashes of the flames I lit. Not a scrap of Kevin remained.

- Two Months Later-

A full house, a busy basement. A room full of smoke and sin, now a rather normal setting for me.

My eyes are dry and glassy, I giggle at the feeling as I place the bong back on the painted coffee table. I’d already spent way too long staring at the detailed cartoonish characters but whenever there was a lull in the conversation, I’d find myself drifting back to it, even when there was plenty of eye candy around the room to check out.

“Nina, thank you for being a clingy bitch.” I sigh as I sink into the plush if not kind of gross couch, smiling down at her grinning reaction.

“Nooo, thank you for being my social anxiety rock.” Nina nuzzles against my legs from her place cross-legged on the floor. She’s almost too cute in this setting, the blond curls tied up in a bun slowly falling apart, and a loud tie die tee that only she could pull off, I’m almost tempted to tell her she looked more at home here than half the people in this basement.

“I’d say get a room.” The familiar stranger next to me, a girl I think from the year above me, jokes, “But what’s a good friendship without an abundance of homoerotic subtext?”

“Mm, true. I’ll keep my intentions questionable Laura.” Nina winks, and reaches for a lighter.

Sure, I said this time I’d be sober, but that basically went straight-out the window the moment I entered Eddie’s overly familiar basement. Well, Eddie's now out of school so I suppose I’d have the right to call it his sister’s hang out now?

They both have the luxury of frequently absent parents and use that freedom, or rather misuse, for it to basically be an open house for all their friends’ mischievous endeavours. Drugs and parties mainly. It’s not always this full on, all the times I have been over it’s actually been pretty quiet. Casual movie nights eating edibles or being introduced to DnD. Any grander party was spread out to more outgoing groups.

So, it was defiantly strange to see the whole house this full.

Some of Eddie’s older friends offered as soon as I arrived, but band-tee and ripped jean wearing Laura swooped in like a mother hen and didn’t let us touch anything else but her own personal stash.

“Trust most of these sloths haven’t washed their gear since they bought it, don’t want mold in your lungs do ya?” She lectured, “And the blunts might be laced, they are collage sleezebags babe. Wouldn’t put it past them.” It felt nice to be looked after.

She said she swore she knew me from a previous night out but I swore I didn’t remember her. We’ve concluded I was just a bit to blacked on Xan’s and tequila, which seems fair. I’ve sort of been putting anything offered into my body for the past two months. It’s even felt pretty good, I can’t lie. And no one has even pretended to be worried. Any and all breakup sadness is pretty much erased in drugs, which I know know know is stupid and I have to stop before it’s, like, stealing from mum’s wallet bad. But just for today, tonight, I let myself relax against that worrisome tide of thoughts and smoke.

The next hit Nina takes is way too strong and she ends up blank faced and staring at the canopy covered ceiling, I let her head rest between my knees and lightly play with her escaping hair. Laura gets knocked closer to me and another guest squeezes themselves onto the couch.

“We are at capacity dude!” She groans over her shoulder, then smiles back to me. “This scene is fun and all but by god do I miss like, bike rides am I right?”

“I don’t even remember the last time I rode a bike.” That’s a lie, I do. It involved a certain dark-haired archer and a craving for strawberry milk. I still pass that convenience store every other day.

“I know right?” Laura gawks, eyes rolling playfully, “Free entertainment we never use. Oh, you owe me for the weed by the way.”

“Figures, I’ll pay for Nina too.” I pull out the bills I prepared beforehand from my pocket. Of course, I knew this was going to happen. Nina always ends up owing someone money. And last time she snorted coke that wasn’t hers was the last time I’d arrived at a party without what I dub ‘bail money’. “She’s broke as ever. I think her last dollar went to a parking ticket.”

“Fuck those, government cash grabs.” She accepts my cash, pulling out a twenty from the stack and handing it back without a single word. Huh, how generous.

“So,” She leans in mischievously, “Guys or girls?” Yeah, no playing around with this one, Laura has turned out to be overly comfortable with strangers.

“Uh-” I’m taken aback by her abrupt quizzing. This usually wouldn’t be the type of question to stir me at parties, but for the longest time I’d become accustomed by answering ‘taken’. The fact that I now can't use it as an option hit me, and I'm left speechless for a second..

“Shhe-” Slurred Nina, suddenly stirring to life after talk of money had passed over, “Is attracted to dumbasses and dumbasses only.”

“Doesn’t that sum it up.” I snort, thankful for the intrusion.

“Oh, stupid crush or bad break up? No don’t even answer, it’s a terrible topic to talk about when high.” Laura shakes her head, “Once on LSD I spent like an hour crying over my Ex to this random at a club. She broke up with me for, wait for it, my cousin.”

“Cunt!” I gape in playful offense, hand to my sternum as Nina and me give our “awws” in sympathy.

“I know right?” She rolls her eyes, absentmindedly rubbing her neck, “Doesn’t matter, they moved away now. Separately I might add. So, I just…don’t even have to see them anymore.”

“Did you get over it?” Nina asks without even thinking about how rude it might sound, but Laura just laughs and moves to stand up.

“Yeah actually. It’s whatever now but shit, could’ve saved me the months of dating.” Ah, she gets it. “I’m gonna pee, please save my spot?”

“Will do.” Nina agrees. They switch places in different tones, Laura having practiced balance and grace, while my stoned friend lazily crawls up to park her butt on the now vacant space on the couch, “Safe~ In exchange, please get me snacks from the kitchen, I am hungry!”

“One order of munchies on the way babe.” Our senior stalks off with a wink and a wave, then disappears up the stairs.

As she does, a familiar set of legs descend and I choke.

Fuck, now how could I forget, this isn’t just some random party. In-between the unplanned smoking and getting my heart fluttering around Laura, it slipped my mind that I was never going to come here. Not when I heard he was invited.

I’d been avoiding him at every single opportunity I could. I think he was too. Wait, no, there isn’t a “think” in that, everything Kevin does is intentional.

That’s why I’m pleased as fuck when I see the brief surprise in his eyes as he descends into the suffocating tendrils of smoke.

- Kevin –

She didn’t come to school for a week.

I was way past the phase of “beginning to worry”, because the truth was my anxiety begun the same night we parted. She should have gotten home fine in theory. Observant, strong, and a good runner, especially in a bind. No doubt she didn’t need a chaperone for the walk, yet it didn’t put my mind at ease. I wouldn’t be able to text and check if she got home safe. I wouldn’t know anything until I saw her at school again.

Every step back to my house that night was a battle, as thoughts of her ending up dead on the news, though as impossible as the odds were, invaded my rational thought. That was in between the foreign feeling of tears streaming down my face. I hoped like a computer virus this unpacking of emotions would be wiped clean after sobbing until I was an unsightly mess in the driveway, but any numbness I felt afterward was temporary.

My room felt a little emptier than before, I’d spent the weeks leading up to the break up slowly getting rid of her belongings. Little things at first, forgotten hair ties and stationery. Then books she’d gifted with the mischievous smile of harboring an inside joke, one I’d figure out if I read the damn thing. Of course I did, I read all of them. Then, with the weight of losing all those annotated pages with her scribblings, doodles, and cute messages, I promptly burned all of them.

It would have been difficult to lose her all at once, though not to delude myself, losing her at all is still painful. But now, my room barren of her traces, it weighed on me that I finally accomplished it. Cut off the last loose ends. Connection to humanity, or, something. Whatever you would call it. I wonder would I even be willing to shoot her, if I went through with it. Would she guess it, see it coming? Or is there still enough blind faith to interrupt her better judgment as I lead the sheep to their slaughter.

Oh, that’s, no, the fuck? What the fuck am I even thinking, after that messy night it’s just time to sleep and forget about the evening.

I didn’t go to sleep instantly, making a point to take a shower as if I could wash off this whole situation- I mean at least I could wash off the beer, sweat and tears. Then crawling naked under the sheets, tossing and turning under the suddenly uncomfortable sheets, failing at quelling the thoughts of her not making it home safe, a guilty portion of my brain remembers one item of hers I didn’t get rid of. One I tell myself I’m too tired to throw out, I’ll do tomorrow, I defiantly won’t forget. A stupid T-shirt tucked right in the back of my purposefully unfilled wardrobe.

I defiantly don’t fall asleep to escape that thought.

When she didn’t show up on Monday, the war of conflicting emotions begun their battle. Of course, there was immense relief from not having to face her. Who would want to see their ex so quickly after a breakup? The best medicine is forgetting, avoiding. She was probably feeling the same, maybe even sick from the cold walk home. Maybe she was avoiding the History pop quiz. Normal reasons.

But then the other side of my mind begged to differ. The panic of not being able to text and ask if she became a dead body on the weekend. If she was having a depressive spiral. Would it be good or bad if she wanted to transfer schools?

At least Tuesday brought the answer that she was sick, as I’d overheard her friends talking. But that didn’t tell me how sick. When she was coming back or…. if she was coming back.

Damn, I hated not knowing things. It certainly was a new feeling; one I really could’ve gone without.

The entire week was dragging on as she didn’t appear, day after day. Uneventful class after boring lunchtime periods. I really should have been reveling in this freedom. Time to work on the plan, time in my own head with my own thoughts. It had to be just the shock of pace changing. I could not stay like this forever.

Wait stay like what, again? Heartbroken- wait no. That’s not fucking it. I did my time, I cried, I got over it.

What’s the problem of moving on? Sure, it was a feeling I’d never experienced before. But once the initial shock and fear of all those new sensations wore out, my so-called love for her just melts into a period where I was doing unnecessary and distractive activities. I just wanted to see what the fuss was about, yeah.

Why is it so impossible to convince myself this time around? Years of confidence, following the role of a narcissistic psychopath. I’d never stumbled, not like this.

Next Monday, with immense relief of a tidal wave, she entered the classroom. Instantly shattered by noticing her physical state.

Sure, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary when she, completely ignoring me, waltzed over to her friends, reuniting with hugs and smiles. She quickly explained away the old bruising, week-old bruising I noted, on her face. A scabbing gash on her forehead that I bet could have concussed her, hidden under some sneaky hair placement and light makeup. Though that made my heart sink, I wondered, have they noticed her paling skin and darkened eye bags? Do they see how disconnected from the world her mind seemed? Because they better. I wasn’t here for her anymore, and pushed down the guilt her state caused me.

How did she get the injuries? I wanted to know what she was doing all week. It was really chewing at me. And that was unproductive. As she took her seat, I bit my tongue and forced my head down. If I was going to get better from whatever my brain wasn’t letting go of, I’d have to do what I did best. Overwork and disconnect from reality. I’d have to forget what was right in front of me. A walking, talking reminder of the past. Still alive, but dead in all sense but physical.

I’d spend the next few weeks with her ghost surrounding me. Tuning out her voice, memorizing her walking patterns to avoid clashing. Making sure we were never at the same gatherings or parties, which I’m sure she was too.

And for weeks, I swear I could still see her out of the corner of my eye as I picked up the bow, practicing for what was to come. She’d still be candidly relaxing in the grass, lying down, feet up, chin resting in her palm. She was always watching away, hyper-focused, and judging my every move.

“Hope it was worth it.” Her mouth moved but I didn’t hear the words so much as visualize them, every syllable punctuated, angry and disappointed. I had no answer for her, and instead drew back the bowstring, hitting the bullseye.

- MC -

It was earlier at school that day, he’d been chatting up the rabble and that included Eddie’s sister, being invited over for the house party.

So now I knew he was going, and that meant that event was off-limits to me. Later in class that day I’d been asked, within his earshot, if I was going to the event, I naturally declined, making some sort of excuse. The importance was that’s how we usually coordinated our territory. One of us declined or accepted an invite out loud so the other knew. But after two months, I was getting really sick of it. Why not just act like normal exes that can be around each other? I really didn’t have a problem going to a massive party with him in it. We wouldn’t even see each other a lot, he’s already proved to me he can disappear in a crowd.

He hears me decline, so if he shows up tonight, he’ll be in for a bit of a shock. I wonder if he’ll get the message that I don’t care, see it as a war declaration, or maybe not even notice. Probably the latter, actually. I think I forget that, he really doesn’t give a second thought about me these days. So yeah, I’m tired of playing this silly game of who owns which party and hangout.

Though, I’d be lying if I didn’t consider backing out of this plan until Nina triple texted me in a hurry, telling me she was too nervous to go by herself and get high alone, in a room full of strangers. Who could say no when she added three crying face emojis right after?

- Kevin -

It’s a miracle I didn’t miss a step and fall down the stairs, what the hell is she doing here?

My stoic mask drops just a hint as we make eye contact, she probably wasn’t planning on locking eyes either, as she quickly drops my gaze and I follow suit. Though not after noticing that she was indeed getting high which she knows I didn’t like her doing previously, but live your life it’s whatever. Apart from pissing me off by apparently deciding the rules didn’t apply anymore to not show up to the same event, why is she cuddling up so tightly with Nina? I mean they are practically lovebirds snuggling on the couch, the blonde’s leg casually linked around her ankle-

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Why are you thinking about it? Shit, I came down here to talk with, who again?

I try to make the break in my stride look natural, blood pumping so vigorously I could hear my heartbeat. And to my better judgment, I don't side-eye her as I walk past the couch. This is just a new scenario, albeit unwelcome. A challenge even. We don’t actually have to talk. Just exist in each other’s presence, pretend that this isn’t becoming as daunting as a knife fight.

Now that she saw me here, I’ll have to show some face before I leave, otherwise I'll just look chicken running away. That is a bother, since I’m pretty sure the smoke in here is potent enough to get high on fumes.

- MC -

I don’t want to laugh, I should be at peace with seeing him, and maybe slightly irritated. But the look on his face was priceless and I struggle to hide a giggle into Nina’s shoulder. It’s like I finally, even if for a moment, was a step above him. Then of course the panic I’ve been dreading floods through, sinking me lower into the hold of Nina’s arms; This may have actually been a mistake.

It’s not as if I’m seeing him again for the first time, heck, I even saw him earlier in the day. But that was in the only setting I’d become used to seeing him. Hidden away in the back of a classroom, or halfway across the school campus. An unavoidable fortress of the education system, confining us together without consent.

Ok, I might have considered moving schools’ the week of the breakup. Explaining myself to my mum that morning, freezing and injured in front of a dying flame, was mildly humiliating for me, if not worrying for her. Of course, parents aren’t oblivious, they were teenagers once too; she was worried more about bullying or assault. I could have played into that, quickly changed to a high school on the other side of town. The commute may have been longer, and I would have to begin the whole cycle of making new friends again. But moving just because I was a little heartbroken seemed silly, especially since Kev still lived nearby, and we shared a few acquaintances. NO- the mess of moving school wouldn’t help anything; I’d just be dragging myself deeper into denial.

I just spent a week being depressed enough to qualify as a 18th-century poet, went on a heartbreak diet of tea and, frankly not much else, then cleaned up my act as soon as I came back to school. Apart from the more-then-occasional drug use. I was fine. I am fine.

But back to the intruder of the room, suddenly seeing Kev outside of school for the first time since, well, the night, I couldn’t say I hated it. Couldn’t say it didn’t make me feel like a caged rat either.

Nina had defiantly noticed my discomfort, my shoulders stiffened, and my back angled uncomfortably against the couch when I subconsciously slid further into it. She had been lazily smooshed against my body, almost cat-like, singing along to whatever song was playing. I hadn’t recognized most songs that came from the stereo, carelessly shoved into the corner of the basement. The lyrics slowly fade out from her as she turns at my unease.

“Hey, you alright? You’ve gone a bit stiff.” Her voice was sleepy, but still genuinely concerned.

I realize I have the opportunity to play it off as a bad trip, but I can’t; I really want to get higher. I decide to do just that and fix my position. I give her a sigh, sitting up, and reach towards my prize on the coffee table. The bowl was still packed with enough to take a few good hits without grinding up more, I don’t think Laura would appreciate me misusing her good will.

Nina is still confused as I silently pull in the smoke, throat burning and eyes watering. But I’m not going to leave her hanging. After draining whatever mystery drink I had in my cup, almost forgotten on the table, I place everything back and lean into the safety of my friend. My mouth close to her ear.

“Don’t look, but Kev just strolled in.” I whisper it, trying to move my mouth as little as possible. I mean, the basement was big and loud, but I’d rather lose a limb than let him know I was gossiping. Nina scrunches up her face, scoffing without a care of confidentiality. Ok, don’t make it obvious babe.

“No really? Ugh. Do you want to leave? We can leave if he’s making things uncomfortable.” She’s genuine about that, but I just shake my head.

“Why would he make things uncomfortable?” Could have made a better response than that, I’m still battling not to look over and check what he’s doing.

“Do you think I’m oblivious?” She rolls her eyes at me, “You were like, so depressed when you broke up with that psycho. Your face was all bashed in-“

“I fell.” I correct, as I have multiple times to many people after my injuries were questioned. Not that our relationship was a big secret, but it almost surprised me how many of my friends suspected he was becoming physically abusive and that’s why we broke up. Yeah, the emotional manipulation towards the end, that was a deep hurt for sure. But he was never even that physical when it came to candid touching.

“Yeah, well, you went a bit weird on us when you broke up. Actually, it was already sort of weird when you were dating him.” Her voice drifts off at the end a bit, touching a sore subject.

“First time I’m hearing that.” I groan, unamused.

“Yeah well, no one wanted to say anything. He’s just kind of, I don’t know. Offputting. C’mon, you’d know best! He just gives off these vibes, like he knows a secret we don't. And he's got this weird narcissistic complex. I'm not that into psychology, but I can feel when something's up.” Nina babbles on.

She wouldn’t be wrong with that one. Learning who Kevin is, habits, traits and thoughts, was like finding out an uncanny secret. Parts that shouldn’t work, a design that seemed like a flawed structure. Then, you would dig deeper and find out it was you who didn’t understand. There was a certain magic around Kev that could either pull you in so close it was suffocating, or, well push you away. In either fear or uncertainty.

Well, I shouldn’t give him much praise for that, since I have to remember the manipulation. How he sees people as malleable, either useful or not. Not wholly like a psychopath, at least what I believed, it was more how he preferred to function. Both a rebellious act to the status quo, to the privileged upbringing he resented, and also practical to his nature. Which happens to also be his downfall.

“Let’s not talk about this Nina, I was just letting you know.” I sigh in annoyance.

I don’t want to talk about him, and I haven’t. This is beyond personal, it was forbidden. When that part of my life ended, it was burned away. Literally. I know my friends want me to open up, you can’t just break up with someone and not have a good bitch session about it. But I refused to indulge them with my rants. I couldn’t say he was some asshole I dated. He was an enigma I fell in love with, and I didn’t understand him enough. Of course, he dropped me. I was boring him, right?

Ugh, no not that thought spiral. No speculating on why.

I just told everyone the relationship was over. Just like that. Putting out a flame. No dramas or cheating or infighting. Defiantly no abuse. There was just nothing left. Not enough to keep us together and too much to pull us apart.

Don’t make it any more complicated than that.

“I’m being annoying, aren’t I? I’m soorrryy.” She rubs her cheek against mine, ok defiantly cat-like, and I giggle out an apology. Just then Laura returns.

“Hey, sorry that took a while.” Instead of moving to sit down she puts a hand on her hip and points her thumb back to the stairs. “Ed is being a real brat about letting me take food down here so we might have to move this to the living room. No smoking upstairs though.”

“Checks out.” I sigh. Nina is reluctant to stand but I pull her up anyways, “C’mon. Pizza time.”

“Mmm, and maybe some fresh air too I am suffocating”

Yeah, this room may be suffocating, but for many other reasons.

#kevin khatchadourian #we need to talk about kevin

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chim-chim1310 · 9 months

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you don't have to answer this if you're not comfortable, but as a fellow ex-jikooker (i've stopped for quite some time now), i've been scratching my head seeing some of the jikookers' posts since the past week. they've been bombarding the jimin tag and gods i wish i can just unsee some things. i can't believe i've been a shipper like them before. that i liked their posts, theories, all that shit.

don't get me wrong some of their points are valid and jikook could still be real, but the way these people operate now is such a downgrade. there has to be a connection in everything when there is nothing to connect. they've romanticized everything that can be romanticized under the sun. most of them has no questions and did not even call out the differential treatment. it's pathetic.

there's this group of jikookers that i never particularly liked too. i eventually unfollowed them in the middle of my shipper journey. they've been acting all high and mighty in these spaces—as if they're better than anyone around. they're condescending too. they need to get off their high horses for real because who do they think they are? no wonder dogpiling has been happening in the jikook bubble for some time now.

tbf there still are sane jikookers left who are rational and are brave to raise points. that's a good sight to see. i've seen some who totally stopped shipping too, and that's good for them.

for me, going out of the shipping bubble is a relief. it's like i can finally breathe better. yes i get melancholic once in a while because i miss enjoying jikook's bond but i can't appreciate them anymore like i used to. and now that we've witnessed the promos, ugly feelings just intensified and come out every time i see them again. i can't stand the other half anymore. but it's all good and i've been coping. i've been wanting to leave for a while now anyway.

thanks for letting me rant here. i like your blog and i'm glad you're freely expressing your thoughts and are doing what's best for you. 🤍

Ngl, to me it actually feel so good after getting out of shipping. I'm kinda embarrassed too that I used to believe those theories even the one which sounded very delusional because I was looking from my shipper glasses.

Now that the glasses are broken, I can finally see the reality. And now when I look at their posts (which literally fills the whole jimin tag) I just can't help but laugh and think "How come I used to even believe all this?" lol.

Jikookers think that everything is rainbow and sunshine. Or maybe they pretend to think that while ignoring everything that is actually going on. They can't seem to understand that just because they're so deep in a ship, it doesn't mean that other people can't get over the shipping culture.

Like some people have brain which they use to question when things aren't looking right. I don't look at things like we're in some movie. When I was a jikooker I was very torn and confused about what was happening.

And then I began to put jikook's situation in real life. And I realized that if I was in jimin's place and something like this happened with me and my boyfriend, and if my bf acted like jk is acting, I would be so fucking angry and would instantly break up with him.

And if I was in jungkook's place then I would feel so guilty I wouldn't even be able to look my bf in the eyes. And I definitely wouldn't act so arrogant like jk is acting these days.

So yeah that's when I stopped being a shipper. I just can't bring myself to like jungkook at all.

The world must be crumbling around them but jikookers wouldn't care as long as jm and jk look at each other for 0.5 seconds.

Like they are so out of touch with reality it's actually funny.

And you must've have noticed that as more and more unfairness btw the treatment is increasing, as jk is getting more and more fame hungry, these jikookers are getting more and more delusional.

They're literally scrambling now to keep living within their fantasies. It's pathetic.

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eddiemunsonappreciationsociety · 1 year

Text

MY WORD IS MY BOND

Part Eleven: You can bet I don't regret it for a second, it's a pleasure, it's a reckoning

TW language, sexual content

"I miss you," Eddie sighs on the phone.

It's four days after the full moon and we haven't had a chance to see each other since. Despite being ridiculously busy the last few days had dragged with the lack of his presence.

"I miss you too," I say and feel myself blush and I seem to gasp a little.

"I can hear your heart race over the phone," he breathes softly.

"That's embarrassing," I try to laugh but it catches in my throat and my heart hammers against my chest harder.

"I like it," I hear him inhale sharply. "I wish I could kiss you."

I'm caught off guard by this and the blood rushes to my face. The thought of his mouth on mine is an image I haven't been able to get out of my head for what feels like a very long time.

"Did you do that just to hear my heart go mad?"

"Not the only reason," he chuckles but it's breathy and deep.

I hear him swallow.

"I'm looking forward to it, I won't lie," I admit, the flush from my skin is not going as my mind runs with the thought of his mouth.

"I like hearing what the thought of kissing me does to you," he purrs into my ear. "I bet you taste fantastic,"

"Eddie," I almost whimper, I cringe at how pathetic I sound.

"I'm sorry," he clears his throat and I hear him change position. "I got a bit carried away there." he tries to laugh but it sounds strangled.

"Don't be sorry," my voice is a little too urgent and it's time for a laugh to get stuck in my throat.

I realise I am clamping my thighs shut and trying to relax.

"It's just, you drive me crazy."

"I don't think having phone sex will fix our attraction."

"That's actually an incredibly valid point, I don't think I can hear you cum and then just kiss your forehead the next time I see you."

"You shut your beautiful mouth, I can't take you saying things like that to me!" I shout at him.

It's briefly silent, we laugh at the same time, then it's silent again.

"I should let you sleep," he finally says.

"Wait, Stella said she wants to meet you properly."

"Oh no,"

"Oh no?"

"I've seen you two together, if she doesn't like me you'll never see me again."

"She is my family," I pause "her opinion is everything... 'Oh no' might be right."

"Scary, but yes, when can we all go out?"

"Tomorrow night?"

"I get to see you tomorrow?" his voice is so excited I can't help but grin like a damn clown.

"If you say yes"

"Yes! Let me know the details, food and cocktails on me."

"She'll be happy with that."

"I will let you get to sleep now though,"

"I'll see you tomorrow, good night"

"I like the sound of that, I'll see you tomorrow, sleep well, love."

He hangs up and I immediately call Stella.

"He says yes for tomorrow," I tell her before she even says anything.

"Yes! Such a green flag. Love that." I hear her inhale.

"Are you at work?"

"I've got ten minutes left of my shift so I'm hiding out back chain-smoking."

"I thought you were vaping?"

Stella goes through phases where she swears she's giving up smoking and weaning off a vape but that usually lasts longer than this time.

"I was, but then some arsehole decided to grab my tit and verbally abuse me because I'm a server and that's what we're here for obviously."

"What a cunt, are they still there? Bring me something of theirs and I'll hex them."

"I love you, you crazy witch." She laughs but I can hear she's tired.

"Come over to mine after work, let's have a sleepover."

"You have the shop in the morning."

"Fuck it, I'm out of all my full moon stuff and that's what they want."

"You're out already?"

"Yeah, word got around about my super-powered crystals and moon water,"

"Isn't it usually top-notch anyway?"

"Yeah, but it's extra potent this month."

"What did you do differently?"

"Eddie went with me." I find myself whispering.

"Holy shit, right, I'm going back in to close up but I'll be at yours in half an hour. Have you eaten?"

"Not dinner."

"I'll grab us some pizza, I love you, and can't wait to squeeze you."

She hangs up on me before I can say it back but I know I don't need to. I busy myself rolling joints and making cocktails and setting up a Seth Rogen film. I light my candles, dim the lights and throw all my blankets on my comfy sofa. It's a zen haven.

Stella lets herself in, greets Chance and flops onto her side of the sofa.

"Fucking hate men to be honest, if this metal guy doesn't work out, can we get married?"

"We've already got that pact made babe," I say, handing her a long island iced tea and a joint simultaneously.

"I'm just sick of getting groped at my night job and not being taken seriously during the day."

She sighs deeply and drapes herself over me dramatically. I stroke her dark curls, up in their usual topknot and she settles on to me.

"You know if you want to come work with me, I wouldn't mind."

"Thank you for the offer, again, but I need to stick this out until I finish my two years at the dumb desk job."

"Well, the offer is always there."

She sits up suddenly, eyes bright.

"So being with Dreamy has made your witch vibes go mad?"

"Our connection has given my magick a huge kick in the bum."

"That's fucking cool,"

"I think we nearly just had phone sex." I blurt, covering my face with my glass as I feel myself blush.

"No fucking way, you little phone slut." Stella cackles.

"It didn't happen, but he said things that got me excited for... anything." I sigh.

"So what have youse two actually, y'know, done?"

"We held hands, hugged, and he kissed my head." I shrug.

"He's kissed your head but you two haven't fucked? Are you two in Pride and Prejudice?"

"It's complicated."

"Well, I'll let you know whether to worry tomorrow.

She leans back and finishes her drink, shaking the empty glass, ice cubes clinking.

"Can you make them with the..." She motions her fingers in a way that actually perfectly mimics how I do it.

I flick my wrist and fingers and the glasses whizz off to the kitchen on their own. Stella squeals and claps her hands at me.

"Even after all these years that still thrills me."

"But it used to be sneaking snacks from the kitchen, not making cocktails."

The glasses come back, full to the brim. I take them both from the air and pass one to Stella. She takes a deep drink of it and moans appreciatively.

"Mmm, that's incredible, maybe the supercharge has amped up the cocktail skills too. If it's his treat, do we have to be thrifty or can we try that new bougie-themed place in town?"

"Oh, we definitely don't need to be thrifty." The drink and a half have loosened me up a little.

"What was that inflexion?"

"Oh darling, he's loaded."

"What kinda loaded?"

"Like pulled up to pick me up in a half-a-million-pound car." I find myself saying, my tongue is always looser with a drink and especially around Stella.

She proceeds to do a spit take with a mouthful of drink, a natural spit take is rare and I appreciate it for a moment.

"Fuck, girl, I see you."

PART ONE:

PART TWO:

PART THREE:

PART FOUR:

PART FIVE:

PART SIX:

PART SEVEN:

PART EIGHT:

PART NINE:

PART TEN:

#eddie smut #eddie imagine #eddie fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #vampire eddie #vampire eddie munson #supernatural romance #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fics #eddie munson plus size #my word is my bond #eddie munson smut

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