#I fear I’ve talked ab him too much | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

irb-pascalito-99 · 2 months

Text

Catch Me If You Can

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Smut, teasing, unprotected p in v, come play

Summary: Joel’s girl can’t stop staring at him while he’s fixing the table they broke.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing visit a03.

I lean back and watch the muscles in Joel’s back flex as he drills new bolts into the table. Beads of sweat roll down his arms and create dark patches on his t-shirt. I crawl toward him and kiss his neck as he puts the drill down.

“I think you should do this with your shirt off,” I mumble against his skin.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, trailing up his stomach and chest. Joel chuckles. He leans back slightly to give me better access.

I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He lifts his arms as I do. Joel allows me a couple more kisses before he starts to work on the table again.

I chew on my bottom lip while I watch him. Joel doesn’t have defined abs or the form of a bodybuilder, but there’s no mistaking he has muscles. His arms and back flex as he picks up another table leg to screw into place.

I offered help when he started, but he wouldn’t allow it. Now, he focuses on the task at hand. His eyebrows crease as he bolts the leg into place. He shakes it firmly to assure it is strong before moving on to the next one. He looks over his shoulder to see me still staring at the definition in his arms and back.

“Careful now, I’ll start thinkin’ you only want me for my body,” he jokes with a wink in my direction.

“I like you for more than your body,” I lean back against a nearby wall while Joel searches for the bolts for the next leg.

“Oh really, like what?” He asks. I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt for compliments, but happily play into it.

“Well, turns out you’re good at making furniture,” I joke. He laughs and shakes his head before screwing in the next bolts.

I could think of a million reasons why I like Joel. He’s unbelievably generous. He’s smart, but he doesn’t rub your face in it. He’s amazing with Sarah, and so understanding with Ellie. He’s the kind of man who fucks you so hard against a table it breaks, and then spends the next afternoon putting it back together again. When he pauses with the drill again I continue with an honest answer to his question.

“You make me feel safe,” I say. He puts the drill down and turns his full attention to me. “I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I can fall apart a little around you. You make me feel safe.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to see Joel’s reaction to my statement. I don’t want to know if it’s too much too soon. We sit in silence until he picks up the drill again.

“You make me feel safe too,” He says. I lift my eyes from the floor. He fumbles with the screws in his hands. “I’ve been focused on Sarah for so long. It’s nice to be able to let go a little sometimes, have somethin’ for myself you know?”

My heart flutters at the notion of being something he holds for himself, that I could be as important to him as he is to me. I know Joel loves deeply, and Sarah will always be the biggest thing in his life, but I hadn’t thought of how lonely it must have been for him over these last several years.

Obviously Sarah’s mom leaving had left a hole in their family, but Joel lost more than a co-parent. He lost a partner, a wife. He’s never talked about her in a romantic sense. He hasn’t mentioned her at all since the hospital. I haven’t wanted to push him into opening up, but something about this conversation feels different. It feels as though he’s offering me something here.

“Did you have that with Annie?” I ask. Joel’s shoulders tense, and I fear I may have misread things. “Was it ever just easy?”

Joel focuses on drilling the screws into the final leg before he answers me. My heart thumps in anxiety. I shouldn’t have pushed. The weekend was going so well. Why did I have to push my luck?

“I guess it was for a minute there, when we were just young kids livin’ our lives,” He examines his work, shaking the table legs again as he continues explaining. He doesn’t look at me while he talks. “She got pregnant so early into our relationship though, so it didn’t stay like that for long.”

I debate on leaving it like that. Joel is clearly uncomfortable, but I want to know him better. I hardly know his past at all.

“Why? What happened?” I ask.

Joel rubs his face and then wipes his hands on his jeans. He doesn’t shy away from the topic, but I can tell he wants the conversation to be over. From what I can tell after conversations with Tommy and Sarah, Joel doesn’t talk about Annie with anyone these days. I find that strange coming from a man who’s been so adamant that I open myself up to others.

“It was just a lot of pressure,” Joel grabs one end of the table and turns it back over to stand on it’s legs. “Neither of us knew what we wanted or how to handle it. Our parents were furious. We thought marriage was the best answer but neither of us were ready for it. It was a giant dose of real world issues shoved into our teenage romance, so no it wasn’t ready for long.”

“Tommy mentioned you guys were on your own with all that.” I respond. Joel turns to me with a slightly angered look on his face.

“It’s not Tommy’s place to be sharing that,” he says. I shrink back into the wall slightly. Joel’s anger immediately dissipates after seeing my reaction. “Sorry it’s just, a part of my life I don’t want you to have to deal with.”

I try not to be angry that he chooses to hide that part of his life from me, but I find myself wondering why he doesn’t think he can trust me with it. He seems so keen on knowing my secrets and holding my darkness. I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

He doesn’t give me any more room to press him on the topic, choosing instead to bring the energy in the room back up. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. I squeal and kick my legs in the air, caught off guard by suddenly being thrown over Joel’s shoulder.

When he sets me down he places me on the finished table and stands between my parted knees. He places his hands on the surface of the table bracketing my hips. His lips come forward to meet mine, pulling me in for a deep kiss when he shakes the table roughly again. It stays firm on the ground, no creaking or concerns that it might collapse.

“Now that’s a proper table,” he says with a grin. He pulls me in for another kiss, immediately deepening it and bringing me closer to the edge of the table. As the kiss gets more heated I push him away. “What?”

“We are not fucking on the table again Miller, you just fixed it.” Joel’s big brown eyes morph into a sad pleading expression, but I refuse to cave. Instead I shake my head and cross my arms.

“Oh come on,” He kisses my neck, biting down enough to leave a mark on the skin.

“Joel” I moan and throw my head back. When he moves to the other side of my neck I shake my head to clear it and crawl across the table to the other side.

He stands with his hands still on the table. I grin at him while he gives me a grumpy look on the other side of the wood.

“Not on the table,” I say cheekily.

When he starts to round the corner toward me I run off in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. I giggle as I hear him start to run after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel his hands grip my waist and pull me off my feet. I kick my feet in the air and squeal.

Joel places my knees on the ground. I grab the edge of the steps in front of me and gasp when he grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling both down my thighs. The material gathers at my knees as he fumbles with his belt.

“Joel,” I whine. The tension pulls in my center so much it almost hurts. I can feel the center of my thighs becoming slick as my wetness drips down the inside.

“I know baby. I know, I’ll make it feel better.” Joel yanks his own pants down enough that his cock springs out.

His hard length presses against my back causing me to moan as I press back into him. What started out as playful banter has turned into overwhelming need. Joel runs his fingers along my folds, groaning loudly when he realizes how wet I am.

“Oh darlin’, you need it bad huh?” He mumbles huskily into my ear. I nod my head, pushing myself back against him again.

He chuckles in response as he brings his hand back to his cock. He pushes his length through my folds slowly. I push my body back into his hoping that he’ll begin to fill me. I let out a hiss when the head of his member brushes against my clit before he pulls back again.

After a couple thrusts his cock notches at my throbbing entrance. I’m panting as I wait for him to press forward, on the verge of tears from anticipation. He kisses my shoulder while he pushes just the tip inside and freezes again.

“Please, please, please, plea-” I beg, cut short from the delicious stretch of his cock inside me. I throw my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts forward. His hands grip my hips to hold me still while I tremble around him.

Once he’s filled me to the brim he pauses to let me adjust. My pussy flutters around his pulsing length. I could probably come just from this, but he soon retreats and slams his hips back into mine. He keeps his pace slow, but his thrusts hard and deep. Each one pushes the breath out of my lungs.

“Fuck, Joel.” I moan as he thrusts in again. “It feels so good, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah?” He pants. His hands slip on my hips as he struggles to maintain his grip through the combined sweat of our bodies. Words are becoming increasingly more difficult as the pleasure builds so I nod my head in response.

I feel my core tighten and clench around Joel’s cock. He groans and starts to thrust harder and slightly faster. His hand slips around my front to start making small circular motions on my clit. The coil inside me starts to tighten even more, causing me to lurch forward on the stairs.

I rest my forehead on the stairs as I call out for Joel, no longer aware or in control of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it spurs him on more. My fingers pull at the threads of the carpet on the stairs, undoubtedly pulling chunks out as well, while Joel’s fingers speed and supply more pressure. Something snaps inside me. I scream as I let go. Joel grunts as my pussy throbs around him, and continues working me through my climax.

When I come down my body sags against the harsh angles of the stairs. The only thing keeping my hips from the ground is Joel’s hand wrapped around my waist. I can tell he’s close. His thrusts become sloppier as he moans louder with each one. I feel him pulse inside me and he grunts.

He quickly pulls out and turns my body around on the stairs. Joel’s hands grab the front of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt I stole off the bedroom floor this morning, and yank it open. Buttons clatter along the walls and railing of the stairs as they fly away.

With my chest and stomach exposed to the open air, Joel brings his hand to his cock. He pulls it rapidly. I watch him through hooded eyes while he moans. His eyes wander over my figure splayed out in front of him. Once he looks up to see my face he lets go with a loud growl. His seed decorates my body in ribbons, continuing to pump his length until he has no more left to give.

He grabs the wall with one hand and the railing with another as he breathes heavily with his head hung. I commit the sight to memory, certain that this is what all the greatest painters in history saw when they decided to capture the beauty of man.

His breathing begins to slow down when he opens his eyes again. He brings them up to me and remains frozen as I trail one hand down to the mess he’s left on my skin. I collect his spend on my fingers and lock eyes with him as I bring it up to my mouth and suck my fingers dry. He looks about ready to collapse from the sight alone.

When I pull my fingers from my lips he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue licks along my bottom lip before slipping inside my mouth. As he pulls away a string of saliva connects us and then splits, seeking in the coarse hairs of his beard.

He stands up first, pulling his pants back up, and then helps me back to my feet. Joel pulls my leggings and underwear back up for me as I wobble on my legs. I keep my grip on the railing so I don’t fall. Over half the buttons on the shirt I was wearing are now hidden in the carpet of the stairs, so it remains open while I attempt to climb back up the stairs. Joel lets me try for a minute before picking me up and carrying me to bed for a nap.

To read more visit a03.

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heavenblvd · 3 months

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒.

pairings — fem!reader and rafe cameron.

summary — after rafe takes your life, he tries to move on, and simply pretends he’s the one who didn’t do so. eventually, hauntings and truths will lay themselves out to remind rafe just how sickening he is.

warning tags — adult language. details of gruesome m*rder & m*rder itself. mentions of DV relationship, (brief) child ab*se & awful parents. talks of religion and god. reader’s pov from heaven (?? just stick w the program). rafe actually going more insane than usual. overall dark content.

author’s note — this is based on and inspired by ethel cain’s song ‘strangers’ and while this song has multiple interpretations to go by, i’m taking mine by the main and common one (just without the c*nnibalism!). this also gets super dark and depressing so if you cannot bear any of it, please click off! this also isn’t revised at all so my apologies for grammar mistakes.

likes, shares & reblogs are very much appreciated ⋆୨୧ ₊ﾟ

you had tears in your eyes, body shaking to point you thought you’d convulse. you tried to be obedient by keeping in rafe’s secret of what he had done on that tarmac. he beat you to make sure you kept your mouth shut for good.

he said, “i’ll kill you if you say one word,” and it took enough fear to believe him, but you didn’t think that day would come.

murder is an evil thing, and everyone can attest to it. rafe murdered sheriff peterkin as if she was nothing, as if she was a problem in the way. bad enough, he let john b. routledge — one of your best friends — take the fall for it.

you continued to keep your mouth shut, but after rafe tried to invade the police, ward killing himself, you didn’t see a reason to keep quiet. ward was the only reason why rafe could stay out of prison, and now that he wasn’t around, you could speak.

your father preached every sunday to live by righteousness and good, to never let evil win.

rafe was that evil. he was the devil himself.

the devil that you danced with, let make love to you, kiss you, but also beat you until stars twinkled in your vision, and your breath kept getting caught in your throat.

your mother would be horrified to know that, your father too. but it was their fault in a way that you accepted this cruelty as love; your father, especially to blame.

if love is not meant to be hit at you, does it even exist? your father showed you that when he’d slap or punch you for falling out of line, but go to church the next day, and preach about being a good servant to god.

you wanted all evil out of your life. it was suffocating, it was drowning you.

rafe had to be eliminated first.

“you killed peterkin, and i’m tired of knowing it,” you said, picking up your car keys. “we are done, and i won’t even show up to your trial when you go down for it.”

rafe just stared at you appalled and puzzled, sitting on the edge of his bed. you were close to being far out enough to your car until strong, violent hand seized you.

you screamed and kicked, not being new to this routine, only knowing that he was going to harm you.

you could never predict that his violence would lead him to murdering you.

“let me go, rafe!” you screamed, being pulled inside, your pleas and cries echoing in the empty home.

expecting to be physically berated, you were being led downwards.

to the wine cellar basement.

and for once in a while, you prayed to god, and hoped he would finally listen to you this time. that he would save his child, and perform a miracle.

but a miracle never came as rafe manhandled you, pinning you down on the cement ground of the basement.

“shut the fuck up! stop crying!” he yelled, a solid punch coming to your cheek, and you yelped, an easy gush of blood rushing out of your mouth. “you’re a fuckin’ backstabber. after everything i’ve done for you, gonna treat me like that?”

you cried, shaking your head. “r—rafe, please! i’ll be good, i’ll stop!”

“don’t trust you, little one. can’t let you ruin everything,” rafe said, reaching for something out of his back pocket.

the more you fought back, the more angry he got; the more you fueled the fire that rested in his hands and body.

before you could let out another plead, a sharp pain was made into your abdomen.

rafe stabbed you — and he wasn’t planning on stopping there.

god wasn’t there. you would show up to his gates in this condition, and ask him why he let it happen. if god is real, why did he bear witness instead of saving you?

rafe doesn’t recall killing you.

he remembers grabbing, and dragging you down into wine cellar basement, but couldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened after that. all he knows your blood was quite literally on his hand, knife shaking in his grip.

your babydoll white dress was now stained with violence and scarlet red blood.

the sight should’ve made him sick, but it didn’t. he just stared at you, breathing heavy, and it didn’t strike him until a while later that he had killed you.

rafe cameron had killed the love of his life.

he only panicked when it came to how to dispose your body, take off any evidence that could trace back to him. he was more than willing to dump your body in the woods, let any gators eat at you for supper.

he tossed your body only hours later in the depths of the woods, and it didn’t take long until you were reported missing.

of course, he was questioned first. it was easy for him to play the concerned boyfriend, crying because he also hadn’t heard from you, saying he had been texting and calling you for hours.

your parents sobbed on the news and asking anyone to come forward with any information, that they’ll give up however much money for their child to come home.

rafe just stared numbly at the television screen, a cup of scotch in his hand.

your best friends, the pogues, sobbed for days, and even started a search party for you. rafe made sure to dig you levels down in those woods when the ground was wet enough to dig up, and cover you up.

sarah cameron had a feeling her brother had something to do with your ‘disappearance’ but it was only just a gut intuition, she couldn’t prove it. she always questioned why you got with her brother, always emphasizing how horrible and violent he was, but you would tell her, “you don’t know him like i do; you don’t know how much he loves me, and takes care of me.”

kiara knew how bad rafe was — for god sake, she momentarily went to the academy around the same time he was a senior. she knew he wasn’t destined to be a boyfriend, let alone even in a fucking relationship.

the boys of the group were beyond furious, the three wanting to round up and take ahold of rafe, beat some information out of him. but they knew you wouldn’t want that, and that rafe would easily get the police to arrest them.

however, months passed, and you slowly became a memory to not only the town, but to rafe himself. he went on with his days like nothing occurred, that he didn’t violently take the life of his girlfriend.

you weren’t on his mind anymore, and he didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

or so he thought.

karma and revenge go hand in hand together; they mingle and burst out, they make sure they arrive at the doorstep of the people who deserve it.

rafe always thought getting rid of you would avoid his downfall, but the murder of you was just the beginning of it all.

he slept peacefully like he had done for a while now, with him about to drown into a deep sleep. he rested with his hands laid atop of his stomach, comfortable and at solitude, a female whisper woke him up.

he peeked around, but saw no one. he assumed he was just sleep deprived and imagining things, his eyes closing again for sleep.

“do you feel sick yet?” the voice that sounded like yours came through, more clearer and visible. he shot up, and turned on his bedside lamp.

nothing. no one. not you.

why would he have to feel sick? you were gone, you were no longer a problem.

rafe shook it off, and was able to go back to sleep.

you were angry in the afterlife. you stared at rafe from heaven, trembling with rage and regret. a man you once loved, had acted as if you never existed. you adored him, and he disposed you like garbage.

you just wanted to be his, wanted him to tell you that you were his only; that he loved you as much as you did to him, that he would change and better himself for you.

that the violence would dissipate, and his rough hands would be nurtured with love and softness.

but no. that never came, and never would.

you were taunted by your murder, burning with the need to remind rafe of how sick he was.

your violent lover let you bleed before him, and without tending to your wounds or simply sitting with immediate regret, he soaked in his actions and dismissed it.

why couldn’t he be gentle? was him painting you blue and purple not enough? did he have to go as far as killing his lover to satisfy the disdain and vexation he held for you?

was that enough? was that enough to make you enough?

rafe’s nights slowly turned interrupted and sleepless. your voice was always there, and time to time, he thought he saw you standing in his bedroom, drenched in blood and with tears streaming down your face as you kept asking him, “do you feel sick yet?”

sick. not regretful. fucking sick.

sleep deprivation was catching up to him, making him more mean and angry than usual, more out of control.

the coke wasn’t even helping either, only making everything worse.

he was at barry’s trailer, snorting endless lines of the white powder, trying to shake off the sight of you from last night.

“country club, you good?” barry asked, and rafe didn’t respond. “you don’t seem well, bro.”

“just need this shit, okay?” rafe mumbled, separating another drop of cocaine. “just… just want to sleep, need it.”

barry didn’t want to push him with more questions, minding his own business as the blond haired boy snorted up excessive amounts of lines.

rafe ended falling asleep on his couch, barry mindlessly scrolling on his own phone as he laid down on his bed.

the cold air from the air conditioner ran around in the basement, making it more freezing and chilling than usual.

rafe could smell strawberry perfume, indicating you were around. he looked around, and saw nothing of you.

“where are you!” he screamed. “you can’t scare me, you bitch!”

“i’m not here to scare you,” you talked, rafe spinning around to find you perched in the corner of the basement. you careened closer, the dim light emphasizing on your mangled body.

rafe stared at your stomach, where immense stab wounds laid on it. he swallowed thickly, his breath shaking and jagged.

“do you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe looked up at you. he couldn’t move in this dream, he was paralyzed and a witness to your lacerated body.

nausea and despair washed over rafe, almost consuming him entirely.

you were finally face to face with him, your hair disheveled and bunched, face stained with tears and runny makeup, all for him to look at.

rafe could feel your physical touch, your soft hand grabbing his, and made his palm touch your abdomen. he almost fucking threw up.

you could see it, you could see he was wanting to vomit everywhere. “am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe shivered, forcing his hand to put more pressure on your stomach, blood rushing out onto it. “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe screamed and lurched up, his eyes opening and alarming barry. “woah, what the fuck, rafe!” barry shouted, and rafe breathed rapidly, his heart thumping against his chest, a need to vomit.

rafe brought his face into his hands, trying to shake everything out of his hand.

your face, your touch, your blood — he felt it all. he was being reminded of you, when he didn’t want to.

barry kept asking him what was wrong, why he was crying, if he was okay, but all rafe could focus on was your voice asking, “am i making you feel sick?”

he was no longer immune to his destruction. he was becoming infected by it. you were a disease that he couldn’t treat, a parasite that ate at his brain.

he would never get rid of you — and you would make sure that he never did.

it was month seven without you, and you became a faded name to the outer banks. the only people who lived on to tell your name was your parents, and your best friends. the pogues carved your name into the chateau’s tree, a ceremonial bench placed at the high school.

your body or you weren’t ever discovered, but the police had listed you as deceased. you weren’t a runaway, you were eighteen, and had nothing to runaway for. when you couldn’t be traced anywhere on the grid, the police pronounced you dead, and that was that.

pictures of you and any sort of evidence remained in a cardboard box somewhere in the police station. you were left to rot in every way.

you were tired of being forgotten, but more exhausted that nobody knew that your boyfriend did this, and you probably weren’t going to be the first girl he killed.

rafe cameron needed to know what he did, and you wanted to do everything you could to make him drag himself to the police station, sit down, and say, “i killed her — and i enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

madness was becoming rafe. he was already an insane, depraved fuck before, but the lack of sleep and memories of the murder were catching up to him for good.

dark circles were around his eyes, hair greasy and messy, his body tired. he felt like he was going to snap any second.

he kept drinking, smoking weed and doing coke back to back, surprised that his heart didn’t give out yet.

a random exhaustion toll pushed over him, laying him down on the floor of his bedroom, and his eyes threatened to snap shut.

he didn’t want to sleep, he was afraid to. he was afraid to see you, with your bloody dress and sad face, making him touch your wounds.

rafe didn’t win the fight of sleeping, and he knocked out cold on his bedroom floor.

he wasn’t in the basement, he was in his bedroom, and he could hear your feet padding away to the front of the house, to your car.

oh, he was reliving the night. and he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t get out of the memory — he was facing everything.

he saw you bloody by his doorframe, and you tilted your head. “why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he was trapped in a void.

you only frowned. “so you know.”

like a reflex, rafe hurriedly rushed over to you outside before you could get away, seizing you away, and taking you to the basement.

he pinned you down to the ground, and screamed at you to stop crying, upset and angry you were willing to betray him when he did everything for you.

you were sobbing, but it became echoes and his ears rang, everything around him becoming silent except his own heavy breathing. he grabbed the knife that sat in his pocket, and he could see your eyes widen with fear to the sight of the object.

“rafe!” you screamed in the first stab. he hit you sharp and right in the abdomen.

he held his knife there for a second, like time was freezing him, and he felt a hot breath at the side of his face.

it was you.

“am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe proceeded to stab you as you sobbed. you cried out his name, trying to fight away the knife, promising to be good and for him to stop.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

rafe couldn’t stop, he couldn’t control himself. he kept stabbing you as you screamed. he was a monster, with the inability to suppress his anger or violence.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

a part you thought you were making him feel sick because of how mutilated your body was; that the body he was once desired, was now filling him with disgust. you wondered if how butchered you looked, was making him uncomfortable and sick. he didn’t deserve your concern, but it happened anyway. was it making him sick?

rafe wanted to cry, but couldn’t. he was revisiting the person he was in this moment, and could see life vanish from your eyes, death taking you away.

he took one last stab, and held it there like the first one. you kneeled in front of him, looking over at your corpse for a moment before your eyes settled into his raging ones.

he held prolonged eye contact with you as you inched your face close to his, but kept a safe distance. you placed your hand on top of his murdering one, and with a blank face, lastly asking him, “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe broke eye contact with you to look at your deceased body, and realized and remembered this murder. your organs could be nearly seen, blood gushed and poured out everywhere, your body cold and still.

he dropped the knife, and eyed you. “i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, and sighed. “you will revisit this everyday as long as you live,” you said, sniffling. “all i wanted was to be yours, and be good enough, rafe. was i no good?”

he didn’t have an answer, and with that, you got up, staring over at your body. “i want you to know,” you chuckled softly to yourself, “i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did. i forgive you, especially since i’m happier where i’m at.”

“heaven?” rafe asked.

you nodded. “you won’t make it here, but i’ll still hope and wait that you do — because i love you too much to let god be angry with you too.”

“he’s an angry man?”

“he’s angry and unfair,” you responded. “like someone i know. i loved god, i loved you; two men who didn’t view me as much, who don’t deserve for me to believe in them.”

rafe went quiet, and enough time went by for you to disappear for good to let rafe cry, and scream. he cried and sobbed, dry heaving as he vomited everywhere to the sight of you.

he killed you, and as long as he kept it to himself, you would drive him mad and insane with the knowing of it.

rafe cameron confessed to your murder only hours later. he drove himself to the police station, and confessed to every detail, telling sheriff shope where your body was.

they found your maimed body in the exact location where rafe told them it was, your body already decomposing into near bones, eaten by critters and bugs.

the earth was consuming you.

he was hated forever, the town wanted him torched or given the death penalty. it would be a while until he got a trial.

your funeral could be proper with your body in a casket, given a rightful way to be down in the ground, protected and secured by a box stuffed with silk fabric.

you could see your mom cry, and you wish she wouldn’t. your father had to give the prayer at your funeral, your best friends sobbing, and hating themselves for not getting you away from rafe sooner.

however, your death was simply inevitable. if rafe didn’t kill you, your love for him would. he was everything to you.

even when he was murdering you — getting a vile satisfaction from it — you were worried about him, if you and your maimed body was making him feel more nauseous and sick than the actual murder was.

rafe would live with the knowing that you truly loved him, and he took your life every single day that he spent in a prison block cell.

and your ghost would continue to linger and haunt him, never letting him know peace and serenity as he never did to you.

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron outer banks #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff #drew starkey obx #drew starkey one shot #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x female reader

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spacebarbarianweird · 1 month

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Hey! It's my birthday today and it's been really good but it's been kind of the first birthday I've ever properly celebrated with my chosen family and friends in a long time since a lot of trauma/ab*se, and I really hope it wouldn't be too much to ask (take as long as you need obvs) for some headcanons with a Tav that isn't going to celebrate on their birthday, but Astarion makes it special for them somehow and maybe they agree it's Tav's 'first' birthday 🥹🥹🥹👉👈

I love all your work and eagerly await your posts, they make my day 🥰🥰🥰

Hi! Hope you will like it! Now, Tiriel's birthday is also in autumn!

Birthday Gift

Summary: Tiriel has no idea when her real birthday is and she's never receieved birthday gifts. Astarion finds it outrageous.

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Tiriel)

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, post-game, named Tav, established relationship.

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

TW: a mention of abuse

Tiriel looks around.

Autumn.

Leaves are turning red and yellow, the winds are cold and promise winter.

It’s beautiful, though the barbarian feels uneasy – the childhood memories. Winters are merciless in such wild places as the Sunset Mountains. Hunger, sickness, death… Sometimes her stepfather, a cruel chieftain, would order to leave certain people outside (too old, too weak) – to let them die and not waste scarce food.

He would often pull Tiriel outside when the autumn winds were particularly harsh and say: “Look at this, pixie girl, I can just order not to give you any food and you will die like a stray cat. But I am merciful – I told your mother I’d save your pathetic half-blood life!” With these words, he would let her go and Tiriel would run to hide somewhere dark and safe.

She was lucky there were no harsh winters during her childhood. She would be the first to be deprived of food and warmth.

Only half a human. The result of an affair between her mother and an unknown elf. She still wonders why she was spared in the first place. It would have been so easy to murder a newborn girl.

They didn’t.

They kept her.

Maybe it was a superstition that elven children would become evil spirits once they died, or fear that Tiriel’s elven relatives would return.

Those are questions without answers, Tiriel knows that.

Maybe there was a moment when her mother loved her. Maybe there was a moment when Tiriel’s stepfather really did forgive his wife.

Tiriel doesn’t have happy memories from her childhood. It’s all too dark and miserable.

And autumns like this remind her of it.

“Hello, darling,” Astarion grins, returning to the road from the woods. His shirt is stained and he licks his lips.

“What was it?” she asks.

“A boar. Didn’t expect I’d jump on it from the tree.”

Tiriel smiles as she wipes his face from blood and brushes his messy curls. Astarion doesn’t see himself in a mirror and, of all forms of intimacy, he especially cherishes being taken care of. Brushing his hair, cleaning his face, making sure he looks beautiful.

Two years. Two years of her own happy memories. Where she has a person to talk to, to hold, to love. Astarion is a troubled person, but Tiriel loves him at his worst and at his best.

Astarion rubs her ear, forcing her to giggle.

“Let’s go?” he suggests. “The weather is getting worse, I want to spend the next few days somewhere warm!”

“It’s five miles to Longsaddle if I’ve read the map properly.”

Astarion takes her hand, and Tiriel feels how warm it is thanks to the boar blood.

“Then we will meet the sunrise in a comfortable bed!” Astarion chuckles. “And in each other’s arms.”

“I doubt they have good beds there, so far from Luskan and other big cities.”

“We have low standards, you and I. As long as there is a blanket and a bed, we are fine, Besides I love using your breasts as my pillow.”

Tiriel bursts into laughter and receives a peck on the cheek.

Unfortunately, it can’t stop bad memories.

… Her siblings asked her to help them with something on a cliff. She followed them, only to be violently beaten by her older brothers. Tiriel even thought for a moment they were going to rape her, but, instead, they pushed her down to certain death.

Tiriel woke up in dirt and blood, with her arm broken in half, shivering and coughing.

And with a cave bear ready to murder her.

That’s when Tiriel felt rage for the first time.

It filled her veins with fire. Tiriel barely remembers what happened that night but she knows she killed that bear– and was left with facial scars. Then she came back, limping and bleeding. She thinks she fought someone, maybe one of her brothers or the chieftain and then she ran.

She ran into the mountains woods – no armor, no weapon, only rags and bare feet.

Then she collapsed on the ground, hurt and scared in the middle of the woods, forever lost.

Tiriel remembers that moment vividly.

A young girl who had barely hit puberty (because half-elves grow slower) woke up all alone and cried like a child. Then she got up and walked, dying of cold and hunger.

Two days later she was found by a group of adventurers who sort of adopted her as their party child. An old halfling washed Tiriel’s hair and healed her wounds. A water genasi cooked the girl food and offered the warmest blankets.

And the tiefling paladin asked Tiriel what her name was.

“My sweet, I thought it was me who tends to wander into dark thoughts,” Astarion squeezes. “Remembering your misfortunate youth again?”

“Yes. Just – similar. To what it was back then. The same autumn when I ran from home. The same autumn when I got my name.”

Tiriel, the little girl told the party. My name is Tiriel.

Astarion does the same thing he always does when he wants to support Tiriel.

He gives her a hug.

“Hush, Tiriel,” he murmurs. “You will never be alone again.”

Triel relaxes. That is her Astarion – a simple hug, a kiss, an embrace, and her nightmares perish.

He pulls away and Tiriel catches his most adorable smile – he doesn’t pretend, doesn’t show off, doesn’t perform. That’s real him.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

She nods. They don’t have to ask permission to do things with each other. Kisses, hugs, grabbing hands, touching intimate parts – but they still do.

Tiriel asks if she can kiss Astarion.

Astarion states he wants to kiss her.

Simple as that.

Permission and declaration.

Astarion grazes her lips. He is in his predatory mood, when Tiriel just needs to accept whatever is going to be done to her. His strong hands grab her shoulders and tug at her.

Astarion finally breaks the kiss and stares at Tiriel for a few moments.

“I am not going anywhere,” Tiriel murmurs.

“I know, Tiriel. You are mine and I am yours,” Astarion presses his forehead to hers.

They go down the hill and find themselves on a road that connects scarce towns and settlements far from the Swords Coast. The road is more or less walkable but it soon will be washed out due to rains. Tiriel notices Astarion’s visible disgust.

“Honestly darling, we should have stayed in Baldur’s Gate and lived a life of comfort!” he chuckles.

“You would die of boredom – besides I thought you’d had enough of that place.”

“True, but there are many other comfortable places! Tiriel, you deserve to wear a nice gown made of the best fabrics and sleep in a huge master’s bed where I will ravish you till you beg me to stop.”

Tiriel turns around to see her partner better. “And then I would die of boredom. Astarion look at us – I am a nomad and you were enslaved for so long you deserve to see the world.”

“It doesn’t mean I can’t whine and complain!”

“You can whine and complain all day long, Astarion. Why even bother to be in a relationship, if you can’t do this?”

They bicker and laugh for the next hour until they see a town ahead. Despite it being close to midnight, the town doesn’t sleep and is rather festive.

“What is going on here?” Tiriel asks a passerby as they enter the town. “Some local celebration?”

“It’s our duke’s first son’s birthday,” the woman shrugs. “Not like we care about the spoilt brat but you can’t say ‘no’ to a celebration right?”

The woman disappears in the crowd and Tiriel points at the stalls.

“Astarion, look! So many sweets! Oh, and there are fireworks!”

Astarion looks distant, as if something plagued his mind.

“Love, what is it?” She asks and feels a wave of anxiety. What if it’s too much? Feasts like this used to be his hunting grounds, what if he has a painful flashback?

Two years against two centuries is almost nothing.

“Tirie,l” he finally asks. “When is yours?”

“What?”

“Birthday. I know this is a huge deal for humans and the ones who grew up with them.”

“I don’t know.”

Astarion looks at her with shock.

“You… what?”

“I don’t know when mine is, I was never told. Neither a date nor a month.”

“Oh,” Astarion didn’t expect this answer. “Well, at least you know the year, right?”

“I don’t.”

Astarion raises his index finger as if wanting to point at something, but then he shakes his head in disbelief.

“We have been together for two years and you are telling me now that you don’t… how old you are?!”

Tiriel ponders a bit.

“Well, I know it was 1472 DR when I ran away, I was told by the party who adopted me… and I had had my first blood only two months before that. But I am a half-elf and it took me longer to grow up… So I think I was… fifteen? Maybe, sixteen… Or fourteen? Definitely not sixteen… Because my older brother was sixteen… Damn, I don't really know. Don’t bother.”

“Darling, I can’t not bother with the fact that I don’t know how old you are!”

“You say it as if I was one of those little girls who look older than they are and get their one-night stands in trouble!”

“It’s not that, Tiriel! It’s just… I don’t know… wrong!”

“It probably is.”

“It is wrong.”

“I cannot do anything about that.”

The wave of sadness drags her to the bottom of her dark thoughts.

Beatings.

Insults.

Hatred.

Pain.

All at once, since she was born.

Suddenly, she is a little girl again – a little girl thrown outside in the autumn rain, in the wind, wearing only a nightshirt. Tiriel thinks she hears her stepfather's laughter from behind a thick wooden door as a seven-year-old half-elf who cries and begs him to let her in.

Tiriel stops. Tears prickle her eyes. Her face burns, and an adult half-elven woman who fought gods and demons starts ugly crying like a child.

She collapses on her knees not caring about the dirt, wailing and sniffing.

“Tiriel!” Astarion drops his sack and kneels beside her. “Did I do… Did I ask… Oh, hells.”

He puts his arms under her shoulders and presses her to himself, lulling and swaying side to side. He murmurs all the words of love and care he is capable of.

“Let’s take you somewhere warm,” he finally says, helping her to get up.

Despite the fest, they manage to find an inn with a free room, a cheap and simple one. Tiriel has to go inside first to invite Astarion, and then he takes everything in his hands again making sure the innkeeper brings warm blankets and prepares a bath.

“Love,” he says. “Look at me.”

Tiriel tries not to think about how bad she looks right now with her puffy face and snot but obliges.

“That's much better, now let’s take you to the bath”

An hour later, Tiriel submerges herself into the hot water and expects Astarion to join her, but instead he goes straight to the exit.

“Astarion!” she calls him out.

“I will be back soon, just relax while I am away, all right?”

Tiriel hates being alone. Too many dark thoughts, besides, now she feels guilty. Astarion went through hell and she dares to complain?!

Her past isn’t that bad in comparison with his. She has no right to pity herself.

Time passes slowly, and Tiriel feels restless. What if something happened? What if there was a vampire hunter? Or something else…

When she finally decides to get out of the bath, Tiriel hears familiar footsteps.

“Close your eyes, little love.”

Tiriel obeys and then feels something soft and plush in her arms.

“Open” Astarion places his chin on her shoulder.

A plushie-owlbear.

Soft and cute, it’s a toy appropriate for a little girl to cuddle with.

A toy she never had.

“Well,” Astarion explains. “Since you don’t know when your birthday is, it can be… today. 17 of Uktar. Happy birthday, love,” he kisses her cheek. “And I suppose we should decide how old you are.”

“Thirty-eight,” Tiriel says, doing mental math. “Let it be thirty-eight”

“Happy thirty-eight birthday, my lovely, darling girl.”

Tiriel feels like crying again. It’s just a toy, a plushie, a thing for a baby. But she was never treated as a child, she was never given toys or dolls. And this gift… is the best she could have received.

“Do you like it?” he asks carefully.

“Yes… I do love it! Thank you! Did you steal it?”

“I won it from the toymaker. Played cards with her.”

Astarion sits on the edge of the bathtub and Tiriel wraps her hands around his waist tugging him into water. He lets out a laugh.

“Darling, you know how long it will take to fully dry?”

“Eternity! And we will spend this eternity in the inn warm and safe,” Tiriel says. “Astarion, please! I don’t want to go back on the road now, so many bad memories!”

He sits in front of her fully in the water. “Ok my sweet, what else do you want for your birthday? Maybe I could return the favor and let you ride me in some place from your traumatic memories? I’ve seen a rather terrible-looking dirt of mud.”

Tiriel thinks for a while and then says. “I don't mind riding you, but maybe in the bedroom?”

“Whatever you say, darling!”

It’s sunlight outside, and Astarion feels the tugging feeling in his undead chest. He misses sunlight, that's true.

Tiriel is asleep in his arms. They actually didn’t make it to the bedroom and had the first round in the bathtub, and now Astarion needs to repair his shirt and find missing buttons from a doublet.

It causes him anxiety, but he shrugs it away.

He can lose all the buttons and rip all his clothes, and the only reaction he will receive will be Tiriel’s jokes.

Tiriel hugs him from behind, placing her cheek on his mutilated back. The plushie is pressed between their bodies as his warrior-love has decided to sleep with it.

He actually didn’t expect her to like the toy. Initially, he was panicking and looking for something appropriate for Tiriel. A ring? A bracelet? Maybe a weapon? Maybe just something sweet?

Everything he was putting his eyes on was off. Jewelry Tiriel would never wear, a weapon she wouldn’t fight with.

And then he saw the toys. An owlbear plushie for a woman who is always treated like a brave hero. Who didn’t have a proper childhood?

The first birthday gift for someone who has never had a birthday.

And Tiriel loved it so much she pressed it to her chest the moment they stopped ‘celebrating’. She wanted to give it a proper name, and they spent at least a few minutes discussing their ideas before they settled on Big Eye.

“Tiriel,” Astarion mutters knowing she is asleep and won’t wake up. “I love you. You will never be alone, I promise. I will be with you unless you grow tired of me, and I am sure you won’t. Thank you for … finding me. Saving. Helping.”

Suddenly he feels her wet lips on his scars.

“I will never grow tired of you,” Tiriel promises.

Tag list

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@vixstarria

@not-so-lost-after-all

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badnew2005 · 11 months

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i feel like all i’m talking ab this season is dennis and running away and how he’s finally emotionally returned from north dakota he’s trying so hard to stop running and be stationary BUT !!! it keeps shining through like dennis struggles to improve his mental health a season long arc IS REAL !!!!!! there are a thousand billion ways to read dennis as johnny but i can’t stop thinking about dennis using the johnny caricature the mask to explore and experiment with that part of himself that kept him running.

ireland dennis obsessed with authenticity bringing it to such a fake degree. obsessed with authenticity of the specific situation he is in rather than his general every day life. he’s still running away. wins the big game message when you embrace who you are then you win then life is good and enjoyable BUT HE MISSED IT !!!!! he was in north dakota !!!!!!!!! he was running and hiding. ireland when you love someone you never ever leave them behind realisation and acceptance he doesn’t need to keep running. reaching that conclusion a couple of years later than the gang, later than mac, as he always is one to do.

we’re like half way through the season and he’s been TRYING. trying so hard to be good and happy and not get riled up over small things. he’s trying to be stationary and be happy with who he is BUT ITS HARD !!!! it’s itching and raw! another season theme i’ve predicted is the cat poking his head out of the wall. it’s all happening as johnny. exploring who he is and who he can be, rather than the person he’s spent years thinking he Should be (seen with maureen and mandy). everything about him he’s kept private hidden down deep he’s using johnny to be public with. and macs just a boy in love !!!!! fuck !!!!! mac being in love with johnny confirmation that he is likeable, LOVEABLE even. that part of dennis he hates so so much he’s so terrified of letting loose. it won’t be the end of the world. restructuring his view of himself. he’s old and tried and can’t keep running, he doesn’t Want to keep running, BUT ITS HARD !!!! it’s so much harder than he ever thought it could be (and he Knew it would be difficult and painful that’s what kept him running! because running away was easier and comfier than facing reality ……. clip show i’m ALWAYS thinking about you!)

he’s ran away from mac before because he could see through him but now ??? mac can’t see it’s him. even against screaming proof mac won’t accept that he’s johnny. from macs pov there’s anger, anger that he can’t feel because he can’t confront dennis so he stays in denial. and dennis is angry with himself too, there’s plenty of self hatred behind using the mask of johnny. he’s spent years pushing mac away screaming at him to move on…. but dennis won’t let go he won’t physically let mac move on. everything i’ve ever loved has claw marks on. he’s clinging onto everything so desperately (clip show & chokes IM THINKIHG OF YOUUUUU) but can’t communicate what he actually wants. he can’t admit it to himself first and foremost there’s no way he’s saying out loud point blank to mac. who could go and Tell Everyone. he hates himself for loving mac for not being able to let go. he hates himself for running away and pushing and biting and then crawling back begging on his knees to go back in time.

he hates that mac came out and it changed everything and he hates that he can’t do the same. mac can’t confront dennis about his anger out of fear he’s going to run again, but ALL DENNIS WANTS is that confrontation. he Wants to be forced to be dragged screaming and kicking out of the closet like mac was. he doesn’t want to be brave and have to take that massive leap by himself. it’s too big too far !!!! he’s spent years making sure nobody suspects him or dares says anything. he was ready to suffocate in that wall. why should he have to follow that second cat out of the darkness why can’t the bird pull him out anymore (because he mauled and killed the bird. severed any chance of anyone else helping him out of the closet.)

why does he have to do it all himself now. everyone else begged mac to come out, they all knew for mac, why can’t they do the same for him. obviously they’re Not going to ! once upon a time he made sure they never ever will !!!!!!! it’s again dennis and communication, wanting everything “to go back to normal” to go back to how it was for everyone to forget what he said and did but they can’t. and they won’t. crawling back home takes time and effort and a lot more than opening the front door. you have to rebuild the foundations and structure too. the cat has made the wall his home, destroying dees apartment to keep himself safe, hidden and enclosed in the wall. he can’t change his mind one day and want to get pulled out without explicitly saying something, making amends.

#he’s johnny !!!!!!! he’s always BEEN johnny !!!!!!!!!#mac refusing to see dennis as johnny THERES A THOUSAND LAYERS TO THIS HES NOT STUPID !!!!!! ITS A DIFFICULT PAINFUL SITUATION !#anyways fall out boy played ginasfs for the first time LIVE yesterday as this episode came out something shifted #i KNOW they coordinated it for me #frank vs russia #north dakota #idk my own tagging care logos for dennis running away i need to find something #s16 #iasip spoilers #dennis reynolds #macs denial is ALSO reminding me of north dakota again like he’s not really gone etc

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 11 months

Text

@allvalley100

Prompt: Superstition

Pairing: Hawkmetri

The rest of this AV100 prompt that I didn't have time to finish before the prompt closed XD This one is a 7-parter--700 words total! Only fitting they should get a happy ending for the last AV100 post I write for them <3

***

Day 38

Talked to Eli about his…interesting new lady friends. They’re making me miss when he was hung up on Moon, honestly.

Anyways, turns out they’re just some exiled lesbians he took pity on. Families disowned them for kissing women, growing fangs, etc etc. Last I heard, Yas is single—maybe she’d want their numbers?

Woke up with a couple (bite?) sores on my neck, so I asked Eli about his pest control situation. He says everything’s fine, but I have my doubts.

Side note: Are metal allergies possible? Had to toss that silver crucifix—damn thing gave me hives.

Day 40

Confession: I’m worried about Eli.

There was an…incident a few days ago, and I hoped if I mulled it over enough times, it’d start making sense. Wishful thinking.

Was shaving the other morning when Eli barged in. Funny, I didn’t see him coming in my shaving mirror—can those things glitch? Thought that was only Smart Mirrors™️.

He started ranting about how “mirrors are for pussies,” and threw mine out the window??? Incredibly inconsiderate.

He insisted I didn’t need to shave because I’d look hot with a beard. How do you tell if someone’s joke-flirting or actual flirting?

Day 45

Have I mentioned Eli’s weird about blood now? Unsure I like it.

Cut myself on some loose board (this castle needs renovation), and he freaked out. Wouldn’t even look at it! Wailed about “blood being too precious to waste” and ran away. Huh.

Townsperson banged on the door today, telling Eli to stop eating people. I opened to tell him that was nonsense, but I noticed he smelled...appetizing? Like a gyro wrap.

He made himself scarce before I could say anything, but…kind of hurtful, honestly. I know I’m a bit gangly, but I’m not that ugly, am I?

Day 47

Finally got a wifi signal in here! Only took 4 hours of fiddling to make Eli’s TV work.

We binged Castlevania today. Eli’s favorite character is Dracula, supposedly because he’s “such a badass and is gonna kick the asses of every one of those lame humans.” I think it has more to do with Dracula having a soft spot for a smart, good-hearted human who he goes absolutely batshit avenging, but Eli’d never admit to this.

Side note: Is it hypothetically possible for one’s reflection to gradually grow more and more translucent and dead-looking? Asking for a friend.

Day 50

Bad news: Eli ate the mailman today, and I…may have helped.

Walked in on him draining the guy’s blood, and naturally demanded an explanation. Eli said to settle down because “there’s plenty to share!” What an insane suggestion.

But since the mailman was already dead...

In my defense…best AB positive I’ve ever had. Not that I’ve had much. I’ve dabbled a couple times, but who hasn’t?

In better news: Wearing the “amnesia” down! We’ve been reading through the library together, and Eli’s instinctively remembering what kinds of fantasy and sci-fi I like. He remembers me—I FEEL it.

Day 60

Okay! Know what’s going on now.

We were reading Buffy comics when Eli clutched his head and started shrieking. Everything came back at once.

After I calmed him down, he spilled everything. Getting involved with a Kung-Fu-practicing vampiric “organization” promising nigh-unlimited badassery. Being taken to Europe, undeadified, and given a blood-only diet…none of which sharpened his memory.

Admitted I’m not inheriting a Greek estate, and I only came to find him. He tearfully told me that’s a shame. He imagined us building a life there. Maybe raising some goats?

Fuck it—if he wants, I’ll make that happen.

Day 140

Been a while! Busy, busy!

Surprisingly easy talking “distant family members” into giving us a land plot. Maybe it’s superstition. Maybe it’s healthy fear. Regardless, people don’t like saying no to weird, sharp-toothed out-of-towners.

Made Eli promise he’ll discuss with me before joining any new martial arts-related cults (especially ones that strand him in isolated castles as soon as he “isn’t evil enough”). Now he only feeds every so often! We’ve gone through some neighbors, but it’s an improvement over Transylvania.

Also, our eldest nannygoat gave birth! Eli named the kids Hellraiser, Slayer, and Wrathchild. I love them.

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tom-whore-dleston · 2 years

Note

Dad!Wong with Avenger Reader and Shangqi (this could be long I’m so sorry🌝)

- Reader asks Shangqi for a last minute date. But Reader doesn’t know that Wong already asked Shangqi for a “man-to-man” meetup

- So Shangqi being the fool that he is sometimes, makes up an excuse that he has a stealth mission with Wong assigned by the Avengers.

- The two men go a little too far on their heart to heart talk and they end up being drunk and then they “hijack” a busker who’s more than thrilled to have two Avengers. They end up singing Celine Dion’s “Ashes” (or whatever song choice is apt). In the modern day of phones and whatnot, reader sees this streamed live back home.

- Needless to say when the two men wake up, reader is not pleased😂

Heart-to-Heart

Pairing: Xu Shangqi x !Avenger f. reader

Genre: fluff + crack + sorta smut

Warnings: preludes to smut, implied smut at end, Daddy kink, cockblocking, mentions of The Rings being used inappropriately, lying, Shangqi having little brain moment, banter, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2.7k

Notes: Again, my hand slipped bc I’ve been itching to write !Dad Wong with !Avenger reader and Shangqi. It’s steamier than I wanted it to be but are we surprised? Like it’s me 💀 it’s also dialogue heavy which I’m not used to writing so I hope it’s not too much lol. Remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed what you read 😊

One night, you invited Shangqi to the Sanctum because Wong and Strange were in Kamar-Taj training America Chavez. You figured it would be the perfect opportunity to have alone time with Shangqi without having to worry about the other Avengers. One thing led to another and you were sprawled out on the table in the middle of the library with Shangqi on top of you.

“Oh man, this feels dirty,” he stammered. You looked up at him quizzically. “It’s just…this is where I met Wong.”

“You know,” your hands snaked under his shirt, feeling his abs. “This is also where you met me. You took my breath away and I almost forgot my own name.”

Shangqi smirked, letting you take his shirt off. “Well, I can make it so then my name is the only thing you remember.” He feverishly kissed you, hiking up the skirt of your dress. You were so engulfed in your lust, you didn’t hear the sound of a portal opening.

“Mmm, yes, Daddy,” you moaned as Shangqi attached his lips to your neck, groping your butt in the process.

“Daddy?!” The sound of your father’s voice bellowed. You turned around to see Wong, Strange, and America standing in front of a disappearing portal from Kamar-Taj. An audible gasp, laced with fear and embarrassment, escaped your lips as the new arrivals stood there in shock. Shangqi leaped off you, grabbing his shirt off the ground and hiding behind it. Strange raised his eyebrows in disturbance, immediately shielding America’s eyes from the scene too inappropriate for her to witness.

Your voice shook as all the emotions flooded through your body. “What are you…but you…how-“

“Thought America could take a break from training and we could see if you two were interested in taking her around San Francisco,” Wong began. His gaze shifted to your boyfriend who managed to put his shirt back on amongst the commotion. “I tried to call you both but it appears you were…busy.”

You closed your eyes, breathing to calm yourself down. You wanted to blow up at your dad and Stephen for interrupting your moment with Shangqi. Yet, you knew it wouldn’t be fair to them. Plus, you didn’t want to fight with them in front of your boyfriend or new friend. By the time you opened your eyes again, everyone stared back at you, including America after Strange lowered his hand from her eyes. You rested your hand on the young Avenger’s shoulder.

“I’m truly sorry you had to see that, kiddo.”

“Don’t worry,” America chirped. “It wasn’t as traumatizing as Wanda trying to kill me that one time-“

“O-okay, I hear you, but thank you.” You heard Shangqi snicker behind you but chose to ignore him because you still wanted to finish what you started.

Later that night, while you and America shared a bowl of ice cream, Wong pulled Shangqi aside. Shangqi kept a distance between himself and Wong, anticipating to get slapped upside the head.

“Shangqi, I’m not gonna hit you. Why do you always assume I’m going to hit you when I want to talk to you?” Wong shook his head as Shangqi sighed in relief. “I wanted to say sorry for barging in on you all. I should’ve assumed you were both busy when you weren’t answering any of my calls.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. If anything I should apologize for…umm…you know. In the middle of…where you keep the sacred texts-“

“Alright that’s enough! All is forgiven. Anyways, I was gonna ask if I could make it up to you by us having some bonding time. You know, man-to-man.”

Shangqi looked over at you giggling with America. “What about-“

“Oh, I’ll take care of her. I have a feeling she’s mad at me and Strange right now so I’ll give her some space. Plus, she is really bonding with America. They both lost their families and they…” Wong didn’t need to finish his sentence for Shangqi to understand what he was referring to. Shangqi agreed to hanging out with Wong before the older man retreated to bed.

“So what exactly is this mission you and my dad are going on that is making you miss the movie I have been waiting to see for months with you?” You called from inside Shangqi’s bathroom.

“Oh yeah, that mission,” Shangqi hollered back, pressing his hand on his knee to prevent his nervous bouncing. “It’s just a stealth mission. Sam told me if I didn’t take the assignment, he would tell everyone about how we use the rings during sex.” You stormed out of the bathroom, removing the earrings you just put on.

“Seriously?! What are you guys, 12 years old?” You huffed in annoyance, unaware of the white lies your boyfriend just told you. “I’m gonna go up there and give him a piece of my mind.” As you were about to march out of Shangqi’s room, his hand clasped around your wrist.

“No!” He yelled in panic, causing you to jump. He lowered his voice, “I’m just as upset as you about this assignment. Trust me, I would love to see that movie with you, but duty calls. At least you have America to go to the movies with you. Just please don’t talk to Sam, okay?” You sighed and nodded your head.

“Don’t worry, Princess. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Shangqi pulled you into his warm embrace, hands planted firmly on your hips. He pecked your forehead, causing you to melt against his touch.

“Yeah? How so?”

Shangqi bit his lip, peering into your eyes. “Oh, ho, I can think of so many ways to make it up to you.” Before Shangqi could continue, his phone buzzed. Your lips zipped into a tight line as your boyfriend checked the text message sent from Wong. He gave you his melancholy eyes that always signaled that he had to leave.

“Don’t wait up for me tonight. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” Once you nodded, he pressed a long kiss to your glossy lips. “I love you, Princess.”

“Love you too.” You watched Shangqi exit his room before you continued to get ready for your now girl date with America.

Wong and Shangqi arrived at the same karaoke bar they crashed with Katy. One of the workers became star-struck after recognizing the two men, and kicked a party of five out of the main karaoke room to accommodate them. Shangqi was about to order shots of vodka but Wong pulled out two flasks from his sleeves. Your beau laughed, taking the flask from your dad before taking a swig.

After singing two random songs from the list, Shangqi and Wong ordered nachos that were obviously preheated before receiving them. They cringed at the taste of the salty chips and questionable cheese, yet they shrugged their shoulders and continued eating. Then, they downed the rest of the liquid in the flask to drown out the horrid nacho flavor. This only led them to order two bottles of soju and sing songs that were older than you and Shangqi.

“Hey, Wong,” Shangqi blurted after finishing ‘Baby’ by Justin Bieber. Wong grunted drunkenly, slowly turning his head towards Shangqi and sipping the last drop of soju. “I am so glad I decided not to go home when you recruited me and Katy into The Avengers. I have made some pretty dumb decisions in the past, but for once I made one that turned into something good.”

As Shangqi finished his bottle, Wong leaned his head back against the couch. “Why do you say that?” Despite Shangqi being drunk, he was crystal clear about one thing: his love for you.

“It led to us getting so drunk we had to take you back to the Sanctum,” Shangqi giggled, reminiscing that night. “Then, I met your daughter. Oh my gosh, she was so beautiful! I was so excited to meet another Avenger and even more excited that she let me give my number to her. But I was also super nervous and shy around her. I thought I was going to throw up the same way you did that night. I never felt what I feel for her.”

Wong smiled. Listening to the way he talked about you reminded him of how giddy you would get when you and Shangqi first started talking. He knew since the beginning how crazy you both were for one another. He doesn’t take pride in many things, but he was proud of bringing you two together.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for making me an Avenger. I’ve never been as happy as I am now and I really owe that all to you.” Shangqi teared up, hugging Wong to hide his watery eyes. “I love you.” Wong was taken aback by your boyfriend’s words. It felt as if Shangqi was pulling the strings in his heart. The last time he felt that way was when he adopted you. Wong reciprocated the hug, patting him firmly on the back.

“Love you, too. You’re like a son to me.” His gentle expression turned serious in the blink of an eye. “I better not see any more funny business between you and my daughter in the library. And I’d rather not know that she calls you ‘Daddy’ so leave all of that back at the Avengers compound.” Shangqi gulped and nodded meekly. Suddenly, Wong laughed out of nowhere and Shangqi awkwardly joined in the laughter.

A moment later, Wong pulled away to grab the microphone and dialed the code to the classic ‘Lean on Me’. As the song started playing, Shangqi mindlessly grabbed his phone, opening the Instagram app. Before his vision became blurry from the alcohol, he started a live video, displaying his and Wong’s shenanigans that were not meant for you to see.

Meanwhile, you walked out of the movie theater with America, feeling a sense of satisfaction. The movie was even better than you expected and you were excited to text Shangqi about how amazing it was. You turned on your phone to a notification that Shangqi had started a live video an hour ago. Why in the world would Shangqi go live on Instagram, let alone be on social media, if he was on a mission? Things were not adding up and you wanted to get to the bottom of it.

You clicked on the notification, only to find the Instagram live had already ended. You took a screenshot and texted it to Shangqi, writing in all caps:

WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON THIS MISSION THAT MADE YOU GO LIVE ON INSTAGRAM???

“Is everything okay?” America asked, tapping your arm. You flinched at her touch.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I need to call Sam real quick.” Sure, you promised Shangqi that you wouldn’t talk to Same about his ‘mission’, but you wanted answers. You dialed Sam’s number, waiting for him to answer. Once you heard his voice on the other line, you felt your blood boiling.

“What fuckin mission did you send my dad and boyfriend on that he had to drop our movie date AND go on Instagram live for? Also, you really gonna use me and Shangqi’s sex life against him so you can get him to do your dirty work? Beside, how the hell do you even know that we use the rings in bed? Whatever kind of childish shit you’re up to ends now!”

There was a moment of silence before you heard Sam burst into laughter through the phone. If you weren’t pissed already, now you were.

“First of all, I honestly have no idea what you are talking about. But tell me more about how you and Shangqi use those rings in bed. We all know y’all are freaks, but…wow. That’s a new one.” As the captain’s chuckles persisted, you came to the realization that everything Shangqi told you was a lie. Then, it hit you that you had just outed one of your biggest secrets to your teammate. Make that teammates, considering America was right in front of you while conversing with Sam. You wanted to scream and punch something, but you held it together.

“I’m kidding, please don’t share that information with me.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Anyways, I did not send Shangqi or Wong on any mission. If you think I sent them to go to karaoke and get wasted, I don’t know what to tell you. If it were on my terms, I would have joined them. By the way, Shangqi is a really good singer, even when drunk.”

All you could do was shake you head as Sam spoke. He sent you their location, which caused you to shake your head even more. Of course, it was the same karaoke bar they went to the night you met Shangqi.

“Thanks, Cap! You have been a huge help. Also, let’s never speak of me and Shangqi with the rings, alright?” Sam agreed and you both ended the call. America looked away, pretending she did not hear the conversation with you and Sam.

“Well, America, I hope you don’t have a bed time because we’re gonna make a pit stop in San Francisco.” America beamed with excitement as you focused on creating a portal to Shangqi and Wong. The teen suddenly twirled her fingers together.

“So, what was that all about with you and Shangqi’s rings?”

God damnit.

“I’ll tell you when you’re 30.”

The portal to the karaoke bar opened and you and America stepped through it. When you entered the karaoke room, you were surprised at what you found. Both Shangqi and Wong were asleep, with Shangqi’s head leaned against Wong’s shoulder. You wanted to be angry with them for lying to you and hanging out behind your back. Yet, they looked so adorable, you couldn’t help but snap a photo of them with your phone. They jolted awake, unbothered by the fact that they fell asleep on each other. When they met your glaring face, they knew they were in for it.

“Don’t talk, let’s go home.”

“I’m sorry, Princess, I really am,” Shangqi slurred. You were back at the Sanctum after having to drag your drunk dad to his room. Shangqi followed you to your room like a puppy that just got yelled at for chasing birds. He laid his head in your lap as you sat at the edge of your bed.

“Why didn’t you just tell me the truth? You know I ended up outting myself to Sam about us and the rings because I was under the impression he found out about that.”

“I don’t know. If you haven’t figured it out already, your boyfriend is an idiot.” His tone of voice and sad demeanor was genuine. You ran your fingers through his hair as he pouted in your lap.

“Don’t say that about yourself. I know you’re sorry, and I forgive you. Now it’s your turn to forgive yourself.”

“I just feel bad, you know.” Shangqi changed the subject. “Your dad and I really bonded tonight over you. I told him about how I always made dumb decisions in the past, but the one decision that wasn’t dumb was impulsively going to karaoke with Katy and him because I ended up meeting you. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Princess, and I’m sorry if I made you feel less than that tonight.”

Interlacing your fingers with Shangqi’s, you lifted his hand up to your mouth. You softly kissed the top of his hand before pulling it to your chest. “Oh, you know I can’t stay mad at you. Especially after all that. I love you, Daddy!”

“I love you too, Princess.” Hearing you call him Daddy reminded him of what Wong said to him earlier. “I should also mention this, but I don’t think your dad is a fan of you calling me Daddy.”

You slapped your palm against your forehead. “Well good thing I learned a spell that makes our walls soundproof.” You waved your hand in the air as the walls glimmered a golden yellow. Shangqi stared at you in bewilderment as the magic permeated the room.

“I think I also remember you saying something about how you would make it up to me for hanging out with my father instead of me.”

Shangqi smirked, “Right, where was I?” He pushed you flat on the bed and climbed on top of you. The rest of the night consisted of him proving his love and devotion to you.

Navigation | Main Masterlist | Xu Shangqi/Shang-Chi Masterlist | The Avengers Sweethearts AU

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tiptapricot · 2 years

Text

Had a chat w @khonshuscondemned under this post about a lot of parallels with Marc when it comes to how he deals with his emotions as a form of coping, and I decided to lay out/restate some stuff there in its own post since ideas got a bit out of hand.

Now I’ve already actually kind of talked ab (presented..?) some of these thoughts in my fic Utility, but the long n short of it is that in my view, Marc has become a master of compartmentalization when it comes to his emotions, because that’s how he’s learned to survive and cope with the trauma he holds.

Percy’s post specifically touches on the scene with the kid goon on the cliff in Cairo, and how Marc very clearly through the start of the episode makes deliberate choices not to harm the kid as much as the others. A slap instead of a punch, knocking out instead of threatening with a knife, throwing the knife away once he does find himself with it, etc. There’s a line for him there, and he obviously doesn’t want to cross it (also Jake chooses not to kill the kid, but doesn’t seem to hesitate for the other two, indicating that that’s a line for him as well).

However, Khonshu then orders Marc to take the kid to the edge, and we see him hesitate. Until now, not crossing his own line has been seamless with his fighting, a non issue, but here we see him falter. “He’s just a kid.” Just like Marc was. He knows what it’s like to be intimidated and scared and hurt by someone more powerful than him, and he doesn’t want to be that. But he has to be, and so he is.

And that’s the thing about Marc Spector. He feels things, he has triggers and boundaries, but he always shoves them to the side because his life is one big emergency situation, and in his eyes, that doesn’t leave room for opening up, for feeling conflict and fear. Because that would also leave him open to mistakes, open for his enemies to get their shot in, and that, in turn, could lead to the emergency situation turning into one of life or death.

From childhood to serving Khonshu, Marc has learned that taking things out of their box could be deadly, that doing so will only cause him harm and pain and anguish, and so he doesn’t. He keeps all his things sealed up and he doesn’t touch them, and he shoves them away when he needs to because he needs to.

And we see that in the cliff scene. We see him hesitate, and then boom, he shifts to a stony face, to a snarl, forcing himself into the rough and tumble headspace of someone who doesn’t care, someone who couldn’t care, because that’s what needs to be done. He holds the kid out over the ledge and—

He falls. And dies. And Marc has tripped headfirst over his line.

We see his face in utter shock for a moment, horrified and surprised, because that wasn’t supposed to happen, and just like always it was his fault (Abdullah El Faouly also wore a scarf when he died, because of Marc, because he thought he could do something he couldn’t). It’s enough to tip things over and let a reaction spill out for just a split second. But then he hides it all away again. He redirects his anger back onto Steven because it takes it off his hands, and then diverts his focus back to the mission, back to Khonshu, because he knows if he dwells on this for too long it will stop their mission in its tracks, and only more people will die.

We see a similar reaction at the trial where, once again, emotion is ripped out of Marc, put on display without his consent, and even when he is crying and tired and weak on the ground, he still pushes himself aside to get the job done. He points the finger at Harrow and says this is not about him because it isn’t, and if it was, then all of it would have to be, and he cannot be paralyzed by the weight of everything he refuses to recognize. He can’t be weak because then Harrow will win, and that can’t happen, and he specifically can’t be the one to let it happen (he cannot be blamed for something again. he is responsible and he does the right thing and he takes care of the people that need taking care of because that’s what he’s supposed to do and he’s already failed twice and seen how it ruins his life [caves and deserts, mothers and gods] and he can’t let that happen again).

And then! He doesn’t recognize afterwards that that sucked! That Harrow utilizing his mental health against him so aggressively was triggering and traumatizing. He’s gruff with Layla, but we see him freeze up at Mogart’s when Harrow shows up and he’s only able to move once he leaves. He doesn’t cower, he just looks angry and unbreakable. He becomes so unflinchingly tough that his body locks him in place and stops him from acting, even when Khonshu urges him to, because he is too caught up in himself and too busy hiding it. In Marc’s mind, even if he knows what’s happening in his head he can’t show it to anyone else, because vulnerability is weakness, weakness brings pain, and pain is the worst thing he can think of.

This of course, ironically, is exactly the situation he’s put in in the Duat.

Marc knows about his past, he knows what the doors Steven asks about lead to. He brushes off seeing himself at the Shiva as just an old memory, just some random time on a street, and he tries to deflect and hide. Moon Knight until this point has been a masterclass in watching Marc Spector’s cycle of repression, forced vulnerability, and repression again, but he isn’t allowed to take that step back this time. Instead it is the act of literally opening doors, LITERALLY opening things up to someone, that allows him to begin to heal (which isn’t to say that ANYONE should be forced to confront trauma they aren’t ready for, but in Marc’s case he was not going to allow anyone to see those things and it was doing damage to himself, and sharing the burden allowed his weight to be lighter).

In our brief convo, Percy then brought up the point that in the Duat, while Marc opens up to Steven, opens his sarcophagus, lets him in, he walks right past Jake’s. The room that was already open to begin with.

And that just… summarizes Marc’s conflict perfectly.

Because he chooses to open up to Steven, to force through that connection even if it hurts and wasn’t meant to be there, but even though Jake is there, asking for it, waiting for it, he cannot extend the same action. Because Jake is just another thing to keep in its box, another line he won’t cross. Only this time that line is a threshold. It is the step over an open door, into something sealed up tight in another room. Out of sight, out of mind. If he doesn’t recognize Jake, if he doesn’t see him, he can stay in the comfortable reality where he isn’t there, and their brain becomes much easier to manage. Because Marc is already walking a razor’s edge. Steven alone is enough, his own past and trauma alone is enough, and he is at his limit, pushing it.

Marc is constantly at his breaking point, and Jake would just be too much. He is extra baggage, something that when exposed cannot be hidden again, and Marc would be forced to topple right over the edge, to confront that maybe he has more to deal with than he thought he did, more than he ever could alone or even with Steven.

And that, of course, would mean he’d need support. From others. That reaching out would become what he needs to do instead of pulling away.

Jake would open a door, without Marc even touching the doorknob, and that, out of everything, is something he can. Not. Allow.

#moon knight #marc spector #mikes mk meta #jake lockley #idk if this ended up connecting or coherent but!!!!#:-)#ty Percy for sparking my nog thoughts oHhfGgg my god #I’ve had these percolating since writing utility but this really let me get it on the nose. expand on what I was outlining into somth more #solid and tangible. so ty!!!!!#the fruit is talking again

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luverofralts · 1 year

Text

Arkhelios University

“What the hell was that?”

Abe shook his head violently, trying to clear the overwhelming thoughts in his brain. That was like no tarot card reading that Roman ever tried. Was this ability granted because she was one with the spirits, or was it a common experience for the Bellamy family? Roman had often been curious about Malika’s extended family, but aside from that probably misaddressed message about goat sacrifice and a large jewel of some kind in a safe deposit box, the Bellamys were still a mystery to them.

“That was a warning!” Malika snapped angrily. “A call to change for the sake of your husband. That future may still come to pass. You and my heir may die in the childbirth process or have an unforeseen accident. Anything could happen and Roman will suffer for it.”

“Is that a threat?” Abe asked angrily. “Trust me, I had Theo in a much more dangerous situation, with you and your favourite demon literally trying to kill me. This kid is going to be born perfectly fine.”

Malika looked like she had an angry retort she wanted to scream, but after a quick pause, she collected herself.

“I sacrificed myself for the safety and happiness of my grandson,” she reminded him. If looks could kill, Abe too would be a ghost. “I gave you a chance and you’ve failed every test I’ve given you. How many times has that abomination almost died because of your negligence? I saved his life at the cost of my own and you let him nearly die alone in front of the demon sovereign, possibly killing others in the process. You’re unfit to be a father! You’re unfit to be a husband!”

Malika slapped another card angrily on the table and glowered at Abe as the world once again began melting away.

“Roman fears this loss more than anything, so take a good look at what it means to fail him.”

Abe blinked and in an instant, he was standing outside of the Bellamy house, watching a much older version of himself try to console a weeping Roman. Behind him stood the twins, once again much older than they were now, but just as familiar as before.

“It’s okay,” he heard his older self say. “He’s at peace now; your cards have told you that many times. He’s watching over us, I’m sure of it.”

The twins shared a skeptical look between them, but held their tongue. Clearly they weren’t as fond of Abe as they were in the other vision.

“I think I may have been talking to Theo yesterday on the ouija board,” Luciana offered quietly. “It said it was a demon and that it was missing our family. That has to be him, right?”

Adrienne rolled her eyes at this.

“That, or you’re just talking to one of Aunt Lucy’s ex-boyfriends,” she teased. “You have no idea of how to use one of those things.” She looked guiltily towards her father, reevaluating her mocking tone when she saw the pain in his eyes. “No, actually it was probably him. Theo’s always going to be with us in spirit, Dad.”

“It’s been years,” Roman sighed, tearing up again at the thought of his son. “I can’t even imagine what he’d be like now. He’d be in his twenties, dating and driving a car that I taught him how to drive. We’d have jokes and memories together. I’d have his high school graduation picture next to the girls’. He’d be a man instead of a dead little boy-my little boy.”

Tears once more overwhelmed Roman and the twins glowered intensely at Abe, demanding that he do something to help. Vision Abe reached out to hold Roman, but was pushed away.

“It’s fine, Abe. Don’t touch me.”

Abe flinched at the pain in Roman’s voice and the coldness he showed his husband. He could see a wedding ring on Roman’s finger, but when his double reached out to hold Roman, Abe could see that his hand was bare. There wasn’t a reason on earth that Abe would ever take off his wedding ring...unless their marriage had never happened.

“He was my son too,” Vision Abe said quietly. “You don’t have a monopoly on grieving for him. The six years we had him were the best years of my life. I miss him everyday.”

“It was your fault that he died!” Roman shouted, batting Abe’s outstretched hand away once more. “If you didn’t always push him away from us, he would never have run away! He would never have thought we didn’t want him and would still be safe at home with me! You would have never miscarried our second child if Theo had returned to us, but no! You had to be so hard on him; you had to punish him! Because of you, I’ve lost two children! Because of you, I can only breathe in the few brief moments after I wake up in the morning, before I remember everything I’ve lost because of you!”

“You yelled at him too!” Abe protested angrily. “You made him suppress his powers, just like I did. If we hadn’t, maybe he would have learned to control them better.”

“I did that because of you!” Roman yelled, fury written across his face. “Because you could never accept people who weren’t normal. People you should have loved unconditionally but never could! God forbid your son embarrass you with his true self and feelings! The last thought our son had in his short life was that we were ashamed of him and I don’t know how to live with that. If you somehow can, then you’re more of a demon than I could ever be.”

As Roman stormed away from Vision Abe, the twins turned their backs and followed quickly after him. Both Abes were left alone with a sad piece of marble marking the date that everything good in the Bellamy family had died. The gravestone was looking a little worn from the years, but the name was as clear as ever.

Theodosius Ulysses Bellamy. Age six.

Every year Roman took out Theo’s favourite toys from the shrine he kept in the house and placed them at the grave site, as if the spirit of their lost son might continue to play with them for the day. The older Abe had observed this tradition over the years and had gotten used to it, but the younger Abe was heartbroken at the sight. He had to escape this nightmare, no matter the cost.

“Malika! Get me out of here now!”

#sims 2 #arkhelios university #arkhelios #Abe chun #Roman Bellamy #sim: Luciana Bellamy #sim: Adrienne Bellamy #Adrienne Bellamy #luciana Bellamy

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badluvkii · 8 months

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words honestly can’t describe how much i love the saw x movie , i never thought a movie could top saw iii bc it was very personal to me because i’ve experienced a lot of grief and a lot i lost to ,, cancer, . i liked saw iii bc it showed how grief can affect people and how it’s not so easy to forgive . saw x hit personally to me , even harder than saw iii and i was holding back tears most of the scenes revolves around cancer . i didn’t cry bc i didn’t want the cinema to thibk i was a pussy and was crying bc the traps were scary tho . it really hit home and i think [saw spoilers now] the “doctors” were horrible humans and deserved everything that came to them . all my life the cure for cancer is the main thing i’ve always wanted to happen and the fact they faked it for money was absolutely appalling , cancer is the worst thing ever and it really highlighted how important it is to cure it . the motives were extremely important messages and i love that it was sharing them

now time to talk ab cinematography , the traps were really creative and were , in my opinion , the goryest traps we’ve seen so far in saw , saw 3d was just stupid so it doesn’t count . i’ve never visibly cringed so much in a saw movie than now but also a lot of the traps involve things that i am afraid of , eyes , brain , throat , eyes agian , i HATE eyes and if i feel my eyes too long in my skull i get uncomfortable so i literally had to look away when the eyes were getting sucked out of the man’s skull , i’ve never looked away in a saw movie before other than the venus flytrap from saw ii which also involved eyes , basically other than hospitals and cancer , eyes are my worst fear they creep me out . i was so afraid of brains as a kid i couldn’t even hear the word brain without feeling sick and begging them to stop saying it so tje brain trap made me uncomfortable but not enough to look away still ahah . bone marrow trap was hard but i was more worried ab the throat cutting/beheading bc i hare the idea of anything on the throat . arm bombs was surprisingly bad as well but that’s probably bc of trauma i don’t like wrist cutting now . i hate the eye vacuum trap . blood water boarding was not the worst im glad both john and the little boy survived , gas house was ok but i loved the plot that came with it . i hate the eye vacuum trap

i was trying to figure out if i loved gabriella or hated her . sure she was involved in the scam but she was in a bad living condition and would do anything for money i feel like she was tied up in guilt and sorrow during the job because she was depressed when meeting john , she was genuinely kind i feel like she had to do what she had to , she never scammed him , just gave him a place to live , i think this is reflected in her trap and the way kramer and amanda treat her , her trap was the easiest of the main cast’s traps meaning kramer probably did it to let her live , amanda adored her and saw herself in her she was rooting for gabriella to live , she was bad fot being involved but i feel like she did it bc it was her only choice to live . radiation trap was brutal but i knew she could do it it’s a shame the woman snapped her neck bc she deserved to live after she went through the test , you could see how destraught amanda was , amanda is my favorite saw character and seeing her hurt hurt me. i hate the eye vacuum trap .

this really redeemed the series after shit shows like saw 3d and jigsaw everyone got what they deserved bar gabriella , end credit scene was fucking great and i loved hoffmans line bc it was funny to me . all of tje characters were really fleshed out and there were multiple plot twists but not enough to make wverone confused , as well as this it would be understandable for people who aren’t fans of the whole franchise like me . the movie fit so well between saw ii and saw iii and seeing amanda again was so great for me because i LOVE amanda i got so excited when i saw her again , it really let amanda shine and i love that for her . it made me really upset bc the hospital scenes i can’t watch because of flashbacks so i had to look away when i could see oxygen masks and other material and the cancer scenes were extremely hard , for example it took me way longer to watch breaking bad than i wanted bc of those themes so it’s really hard for me to watch , i was reluctant to watch saw x bc i found out how much of the themes are in the movie but i’m so glad i watched it because it really was the best one it beat the personalness and story of saw iii . by the way angel of death trap is still my fav i think it’s so beautiful

i hate the eye vacuum trap

venus flytrap and eye vacuum remain the hardest traps for me to watch bc i hare eyes , venus flytrap was hard bc the key was behind the eye but the actual venus flytrap wasn’t hard to watch . the eye vacuum trap was horrendous i had to look away words can’t describe how much i hate that trap , this movie had the most gorey traps by far

i hate eye vacuum trap

speaking of eye vacuum trap , i knew that doctor would be the one in it from tje clues i got from the trailer , fingers and eyes , it kept zooming onto his eyes and the fingers of the man he was looking after , his fingers and the stealing when i saw it keep panning to his eyes and fingers i was thinking fuck this get me out of here i hate this but i persisted HOW DO YOU PUT THE WOSRT ONE TO WATCH AT YHE STARY

i hate the eye vacuum trap

saw x is my favorite saw movie by miles

in my opinión

saw x

//*** MASSIVE WALL***\\

saw iii

//OTHER WALL//

saw vi

saw v

every one else

jigsaw

saw ii

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rrandomtthings · 2 years

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Hi! I saw your post about SK8 to infinity season 2, and I am excited for it but I’m also worried. I love Langa and Reki relationship and I really hope they become more close in season 2 but I’m just afraid that the director of the show is going to make them fall in love with some girl for the male viewers instead of for eachother. Like the one thing I hate about fujobaot/gay bait is that they’ll make 2 dudes be extremely gay towards eachother and then make them have girlfriends bc they don’t want the 2 dudes to be gay. I wish this was like Yuri on Ice but we haven’t had a show like Yuri on Ice for years. Anyways what’s your thoughts in this?

Hiii !!!! I think those fears are completely valid !!

In terms of renga’s relationship, there is no real way of knowing what will happen with them. There has been proof in the show that Reki does show interest in girls, but that absolutely does not eliminate bisexuality, pansexuality, etc etc. I know the topic of queerbait was HUGE when season 1 was coming out and since then I’ve always been on the side of sk8 not being considered queer bait (atleast from what we have been shown in season 1). Bc, from what we have seen so far, their relationship is being seen as really good friends in the grand perspective. The little things in their relationship that can be perceived as romantic isn’t necessarily romantic. For ex, Langa holding Reki saying that he will protect him isnt inherently romantic. These little scenes are only seen as really shippy if u view it that way

That being said, that absolutely does not eliminate the possibility of there being more. From what we have seen, Langa has confessed feelings for Reki from his talk w his mom (this mf blushed and agreed I just AAA!!!!!! It’s been over a year and I’m still not over it) So there has been foundation laid down for possible romance. The sk8 fandom has a large queer community which definitely contributed in its success and the reason why it was able to get a season 2 in the first place. This is a studio Bones original series, it could have easily been left at 12 episodes. This foundation can definitely be explored in the future and I would love to see that so much. We don’t know what exactly will come out of this season since the last season w Adam completed that storyline. For all we know, this season can be ab Reki and Langa’s relationship and the development there

Personally, I absolutely think that sk8 has the potential of being like Yuri on ice. Like I said, the foundation is there and there have been parallels w renga and victuuri!! I genuinely think that yoi is such a high bar to beat (it’s my comfort anime) so idk if anything can even reach the same level, but the possibility for sk8, esp since it’s already had its first season and we know who these characters are, is still there

Im not worried ab sk8 being queerbait bc I don’t see it as that rn. From season 1, Reki and Langa are just really great friends. If season 2 wants to do more, then great (amazing I want that so bad) !! And if not, then that’s fine. The only time I will have a problem is if they wholeass have a whole ass kiss or romance confession one minute then the next they have gf’s. That’s when we will have an issue, but I’m definitely not too worried ab that as of right now !!

#im so sorry this got so long IZISISI #I miss talking ab sk8 so much it’s been so long aaaaaaaaaaa #sk8 #answered #anonymous #rran.txt

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softsnzstuff · 1 year

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13, 30, 51!!

Hi my friend!! These are all great questions, thank you for sending. Got carried away with the first one LMAO I’m so sorry 😬 KB

13) Do you hate anyone at the moment?

Oof I try not to use the word “hate” (in regards to people) too much. I probably have a list of less than ten people who I genuinely have hatred for.

One of which is said ab*sive ex whom I mentioned in a few previous posts. I don’t talk about him much but he was 30 and I was freshly 21 and never had a bf before. He’s a clinical psychopath actually, but at the time I was vulnerable and he absolutely knew it and took advantage of that.

I hate him because he knew what he was doing and had no remorse. No guilt about lying to my face or about taking my virginity and my innocence. It’s bc of him that I haven’t dated in 3 years. Men like genuinely make me fear for my life in a romantic or intimate situation.

^^ that’s all WAY more than you asked for but in line with the question, I hate my ex

30) What’s irritating you right now?

I’m annoyed with how emotional I’ve been lately? Idk if it’s because I’m on the week coming off of having been on my period or just the overwhelming emotions about everything going on rn.

But like I keep crying while I’m packing and while I’m watching sad parts of tv shows. But like. So much more than I normally would?? And I think maybe my brain/body just needs an outlet of something to cry at since I don’t want to process moving out yet???

51) Favorite Food?

This literally changes monthly for me. I’ve been on a Cajun chicken penne kick lately but also I will never say no to pizza with pepperoni, fresh mozzarella, and pesto 🤤

#tw: abuse #tw: sa #kb speaks #70 terrible questions game #ask me anything!

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diorsbrando · 2 years

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so i’m re-watching demon slayer and daddy muzan pops up and i wanted to know what he sounded like in dub bc i’ve never heard it + i couldn’t even remember what he sounded like period. AND SOSA WHEN I TELL YOU I DONT FUCKING REMEMBER HIM SOUNDING THIS SEDUCTIVE????? it’s giving itachi / madara lowkey. like my eyes legit bulged out of their sockets bro. i’m thinking of the most profoundly disgusting shit rn like my voice kink is going sky fucking highhhhhhhhh ! sjsjsjwmd like bro i’m literally losing my shit. my eyes rolled back into submission like EXCUZE ME MUZAN ????? baby i just KNOW he be all up in your ear growling and calling you out your name cs he knows you like it pls. it’s giving itachi / madara lowkey

mocha. how DARE YOU. HOW MF DARE YEWWWWW. i already told you in our dms but listen……the way ive watched this video 3 times abs shuddered, creamed, moaned, whimpered and giggled all three times is insanity. this isn’t normal behavior i fear. when he said “you’re not contradicting what i said are you?” I MOANNEDDD AND WAS LIKE NO DADDY UR ALWAYS RIGHT ID NEVER DO THAT and when he said “silence. i misunderstood nothing” I GOT UP TO JUMP AROUND MY ROOM ‼️⁉️‼️ it’s clear i haven’t rewatched kny in a while and ima have to do a rewatch too bc I DO NOT REMEMBER THIS MANS VOICE SOUNDING LIKE THIS??????? but then again besides his good looks and mysterious demeanor, his voice did draw me in from the start but it just got worse now bc YOUVE STARTED A BRAIN ROT AND CONDITIONED MY COOCHIE TO REACT TO THIS MAN.

if i haven’t said it before ima say it now my voice kink is lethal like….if a mf voice sounds SEXY OR APPEALS TO ME???? that’s it. im already in love ready to be a housewife. and then you said it sounded like madara and itachi combined and i went to youtube to listen and you’re so RIGHT. it’s the perfect combo. like the fact that his voice is always leveled and it sounds like he’s trying to seduce someone by talking in their ear resembles itachi, but the LACK OF ROOM for back talk and the authoritative tone is very much like madara and im unwell. you see how in my navi post it says uchiha whore? yeah it’s for good reason.

#—sosa’s thoughts💭#🍫—asks!#moots :)#hellavile #demon daddy muzan #ngl listening to itachi talk nearly brought me to tears again #he’s just so !!!!#i miss him dearly

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stageplayhero · 2 years

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Continued from here | @fearlesscxptain

“ I — ” Their movements halt. They want to tell him, they know they should, but their body doesn’t want them to. Still midair, their hands curl into loose fists, and draw closer to their torso. The way that the tears well in their eyes, burning their vision, it hurts more than it should have any right to. Slowly moving their hands again, they try to force them to stop shaking. “ I fell, ” they sign, unable to look at Damien. “ William, he — ” Will their mind even allow them to think about it ? Much less address it ? To state it into reality ? “ . . . I’m sorry, I can’t tell you right now. Not here. ”

They need to address the other problems at hand. They know that. There are other matters to address, aside from themself. Steadying themself, they lean against the desk beside them in an effort to stay upright, to not collapse. They want to take Damien’s offered hand, but something doesn’t let them. “ I don’t know if they could have. ” Asher saw it. They saw Abe. They saw William, broken and walking off. Damien had reappeared, but the mourning in his voice when he said Celine’s name made Asher worry that something had happened to her which he wasn’t going to tell them.

“ I want to believe you, but, ” they pause to quickly reach up and brush away the tear they’ve realized has fallen down their numb cheek, “ I don’t know if it’s possible. I don’t even know how I’ve managed to be here. ”

"I understand. We can talk about it later." Mark folds the cane close to his chest. "I'm sorry, I don't want to push you. This all must be such a shock."

The first time he was brought back, he was a mess. Pain and confusion and fear. Maybe Asher is experiencing something similar. It will pass, he has no doubt. It hadn't taken him long to see that this is a nightmaregift!

"I want to believe you" puts him on high alert, eyes too focused on their face. He hopes they appear brown. It takes a moment for it to sink in that they're referencing the possibility of the others being alive, not his identity. But they had been avoiding looking at him. They had moved to the desk instead of his hand. He withdraws it, tries to proceed with caution.

"You mean something…did happen to them?" He sucks in a small, shaky breath. Theatrics, as always. "I see. Maybe we should talk about this somewhere more private."

Their tears make him shift forward slightly, but he catches himself, unsure what he had been about to do. He glances away instead. "You said you fell. I could contact a doctor, if you need one."

#and so the story begins: thread #starring: fearlesscxptain #fearlesscxptain #verse: main | the mayor #(mark: they're suspicious quick call a doctor [???])

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sexyvampkitty · 1 year

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RP Solo Number Nine: 'Giving Up'

I'm done...literally and figuratively. I can't take any more of this crap that is my so-called eternal life. I've totally had it with all of this on-again-off-again stuff that my boyfriend and I have going on lately. I have no idea where he's been going...or what he's been doing...but...whatever it is...it's clearly more important than I am. He's gone more than he's actually here. I might as well call myself single again. Maybe he just doesn't want to be around me anymore. Ever since I got injected with this damn ripper virus months ago, he's hesitant to touch me, or kiss me, or be intimate in any way with me at all...afraid...no...that's not the right word...terrified...that I'm going to bite him and drain him of every drop of blood in his body if he gets too close. I've come very close to killing him quite a few times already...and that fear is evident every time that I stare into his gorgeous eyes. This whole thing isn't totally my fault. I keep telling him that...but...at this point...I think he's tired of hearing the same explanation coming out of my mouth...over and over again. I'm trying to control my urges...I really am...but he has no idea how hard it is for me...as far as I know...he never really tells me anything about his past...and he always gets mad at me when I ask about it...and the more time that goes by...the harder it's getting. My veins feel like they are on fire 'all' the time...and when I'm with Damon...all I can hear is his heart beating...and all I can smell is his blood...flowing just below the surface of his skin...so close...within my reach...it's intoxicating. Most nights, my cravings get so bad that we can't even sleep in the same bed...I have to crash on the couch to keep myself from possibly sinking my fangs into his neck and tearing his head off. It's not surprising that he can't trust me. I can't really blame him. Worse yet, I lost Wes. Long story...but I have no idea where he is...or how to even begin to find him again. Not that I think he will ever agree to help me...besides...what's the point really? I can't keep deluding myself forever. There is obviously no cure. I can't be 'fixed'. I guess I just have to live with the 'monster' that I have become...or not. There 'are' other options. I've already kicked out option one...because I'm too much of a coward to stake myself...plus I'm not suicidal...but...option two is totally doable...and something that I've been considering for a long while now. I just couldn't let myself go through with it before. Now though...what have I got to lose? Ab-so-freaking-lutely nothing. Humanity off mode aside, I hate the idea of feeding on and killing vampires for the rest of my life...however long that happens to be. It's just...wrong. I miss feeding on people...and while I can still drink human blood...it doesn't sustain me for long. I don't really have anywhere else to go...and I don't want to take the chance that I might end up killing my boyfriend...sooner rather than later...so...I don't see any other way out of this. Option two it is then...even if the pain of starving myself and my veins scraping together is a sensation that I didn't want to experience again anytime soon...also a long story. I'm talking about dessication. 'So' not fun. Still, it's better for Damon if I'm out of the way for awhile. Swallowing the last bit of Bourbon from the bottle that I've been holding for the past hour, I stand up from the couch and toss it into the fire burning in the large fireplace, getting no satisfaction from the sound of the glass shattering. After watching the orange flames flicker and dance for a few long minutes, I manage to tear my gaze away and walk over to the little table behind one of the couches...what I call the alcohol table...and pick up a pen and a pad of paper. I quickly scribble a note for Damon...telling him what I've done...and to revive me if and when he decides to come back this time...then place it under one of the bottles with the edge sticking out so that it's actually noticeable. Glancing around the room for what might be the final time, I blow out a heavy sigh, then turn around and head down into the basement, walking into the little inner room, closing the door behind me. I walk over and flop down on the little bed against the wall in the far corner of the room, swinging my legs up and laying back, placing my head on the not-very-comfortable-pillow. I look up at the ceiling for another few long minutes, before I finally let my eyes drift closed...waiting for silence and darkness to envelope me... (END)

#tvd #roleplay

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