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samkerrworshipper · 20 days

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leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader, arsenal x reader

part 1 of beautiful girl series-> pt.2 -> pt.3

warnings: drug abuse, drug addiction, mentions of sexual assault, sexual assault, jordan and leah r broken up, basically a trauma dump, unedited, if you are not in an okay headspace this fic is not for u, based on beautiful boy

You find it hard to remember the last time you felt loved.

Not the kind of love that people tell you everyday, no, real unconditional, meaningful, purposeful love. The kind of love where a person looks at you like you single handedly hung the stars and the moon, the kind of love where it feels like nobody could love you in the same way, the same love that shakespeare wrote poems about, the same love that you know that you could never be capable of receiving.

You don’t really blame anybody but yourself, how could people love you, how could people want to love you? You weren’t a loveable person, in your opinion you were quite frankly the exact opposite.

Maybe when you were eight, when you were cute and loveable, when you had cute little piggy tails and wore pink overalls and only wanted to dance and talk about unicorns.

Maybe when you were ten and you spent every afternoon practising football in the backyard with your moms.

Maybe when you were twelve and your only aspirations for life were to win your school spelling bee and captain england just like your mom.

From then on, it all seemed like one big blur.

From 12 onwards you don’t think a lot of you was lovable, hell you hardly thought eight year old you was lovable, a tiny little orphan who had seen so much of the world and yet none of it, yet your moms had spent every single day trying to make you feel like you were and it had worked. For possibly the first time in your life, you’d felt that love, like a whole galaxy revolved around you, like no matter what happened in your life, you could face it.

It was funny how fast that feeling could fade.

It wasn’t really that surprising that you’d seeked out something to fill the hole inside of you, or at least that’s how you saw it.

It started at 14, when you were so consumed with all of the pain around you, the shit storm of broken relationships and the broken home that now replicated the same one you’d come from. Babies learnt to self soothe by being left to cry, teenagers learnt to self soothe through pain.

First it was spending as much time as possible out on the pitch with your moms, every single one of your afternoons spent practising, and any minute you weren’t on the pitch it was non stop studying.

You formed a anger for it, a pure hatred for the sport that your moms were so fond of, a sport that had brought them together and inevitably forced them apart.

At 15 you left football behind, you focused on your school, spending every spare minute on your studies, they headaches and migraines, the stress, the anxiety, it was all good, it proved that you were trying, it filled the hole inside of you.

When you were 15, you stopped caring. Your mama stopped caring, she moved 3 hours away for her own career, she didn’t have time to care about your school work, as for your mom, it wasn’t an easy job captaining the lionesses to a european championship, she had bigger problems then you.

When you turned 16, everything changed. Your mom tore her acl, Lia moved in, there wasn’t any room for you, let alone room for you to be loved. Your mama stopped visiting as often, only when it was necessary, for the first time in a while, you felt alone, truly alone.

When you turned 17, you found other ways to self soothe. Babies cried for attention, out of hope that they’d find some of that love that they were missing when they were alone. Babies cried because they had no other way of conveying the loneliness and desperate need they had for whatever they were seeking. Teenagers do stupid things in search of the same thing, love, attention and in search of something. Teenagers are stupid by default, you weren’t unbeknownst to that, the eight year old version of you though would have swore six ways to sunday that you’d never behave in the way you were, out of fear that you’d end up back where you’d come from, that you’d lose the only family that had ever showed you a glimpse of love, teenage you figured there wasn’t any more love for you, it had all been swallowed up by younger you, taken before you could really understand the magnitude of that love, before you needed it the very most.

Maybe it was the pot speaking, or the nicotine from your vape, or it was just the overwhelming cloud that always seemed to hit when you were high. It would fade eventually, it always did, all the deep emotional shit that made you want to cry would go, and you’d be left mellowed out, all of your feeling sucked out like a deep exhale, sometimes it just happened to be that you had to feel it all before you felt nothing, before the overwhelming numbness hit you and the hole in your heart was filled once again.

You flinched at the knock on your bedroom door, you were grateful enough for the warning, it had taken a lot of convincing to your mom and her best friend before they’d finally agreed to it.

You didn’t bother trying to hide your vape, the joint you had been smoking had been put out a couple of minutes ago.

“Come in.”

You stayed sat on the ledge of your window, your head hanging halfway out, the cool london winter breeze making your lips numb and your face pink.

The door opened slowly and you kept your eyes on the outside street, watching the cars drive past underneath you.

“Hey, dinners ready if you want to come down.”

You nodded absentmindedly, avoiding Lia’s eyeline.

“It’s freezing, close your window.”

You looked over at the swiss woman, a woman who was now so familiar in your home that you saw her more than the woman you called your mama.

“I’m good.”

You took a deep breath, one last inhale of the chilly air before turning to face Lia and uncurling your body, standing up and walking towards the door where she was standing.

“If you want to live in Antarctica then that’s your call.”

You try your best to suppress the eye roll, instead opting to pull your vape from your pocket and take a deep inhale, it’s not as good as the cold air but it’s something. It also helps to cover the weed scent that you’re trying to cover up.

Lia walks behind you, shaking her head at the puff of vapour that hits her right in the face as you make your way down the stairs and into the living room and then into the dining room.

Your mom is sitting at the table, fiddling with the cutlery and looking down at the meal that you know she most definitely did not cook.

It was one of the only bonuses of having Lia around, when jordan left the healthy and yummy food had turned into mostly take away and food that wasn’t cooked on a stove top because Leah had learnt her lesson after the multiple calls to the fire department.

You sat down in your normal chair, taking another hit of the vape in your hand before setting it down on the table and replacing it with a fork.

“I thought we’d talked about no vapes at the dinner table, bubba.”

You focused down at the bowl of spaghetti that was in front of you, it was the night before a game, which meant carb loading, you’d never been fond of pasta, although you supposed that had slipped Leah’s mind in the last couple of months.

“I’m not using it at the table, am I?”

You could feel the look of disapproval from your mother from the other side of the table.

You pushed your fork into the pasta, searching for a meatball instead of the pasta that you were desperate to avoid.

“Bubba I think you can put it away for half an hour every night, please.”

You pull your spare hand out of your hoodie, grabbing at the vape and slipping it into the pocket.

You focus on stabbing the meatball that your focus has locked onto, keeping your eyes downcast and focused on locating all of the saucy balls and shoving them into your mouth as quickly as possible.

Just as you’ve located and eaten all of the orbs that you can guarantee Lia made all by herself, your mom directs conversation at you once again, pivoting from whatever she was talking to Lia about,

“We’re playing in Manchester tomorrow night, you’re welcome to come with us on the bus if you want, or you could go with mumma, I think she’s planning to drive up to watch the girls. The girls haven’t seen you in a while though, Lotte has been missing you, she’s been asking me about you.”

You’d distanced yourself from your moms club teammates for a multitude of reasons, but it all stemmed down to the hatred that you had for arsenal, the love that your mom had for the club, the club that took all of her time, her teammates that saw more love then you felt you did.

“I think I'll just stay home for the weekend, mama is going to be in town anyways. Plus Maya and I were planning to do something tomorrow night.”

She was going to be in town, it didn’t mean you had plans to see her.

“Maya? Do I know a Maya?”

You tried your best not to be annoyed at your moms sudden concern about your social life.

“She’s just a friend.”

You could practically feel the eyebrow raise from the other side of the table.

“What were you and Maya planning on doing tomorrow night?”

You looked up for the first time, gritting your teeth.

“I don’t know, hang out, have some fun, nothing special. I want to see mama and I want to hang out with friends, is that not enough for me to stay home for the weekend,? It'll only be a night.”

You watched your mom collapse in, her eyes straying to the side to look at Lia.

“So it’s friends now, plural? I talked to Jord yesterday, she didn’t say that you had anything planned with her for this weekend.”

You wanted to bolt upstairs back to your room, light a joint and stick your head back out of your window and enjoy the serenity that came from it, but you held strong.

“Yes, friends, I have more than one, we’ll probably just hangout at someones house, no biggie. I haven’t talked to mama yet because I didn’t know what I was doing this weekend.”

Your moms eyebrow only raised further up her forehead, the line of hair practically melting into her hairline.

“I was a teenager once, you think I don’t know what a hangout turns into?”

You were about to rebut, answer with some snappy answer that probably would have gotten you in more trouble than you would have wanted, but you were silenced by the swiss woman sitting to your left.

“She’ll be fine Le, she’s smart, she’ll leave her location on, she won’t do anything you wouldn’t. Right?”

You nodded cautiously, a little bit shocked by the swiss woman’s attempt to help you out.

“Yes, I’ll leave my location on and I’ll meet up with mama the next morning, I’ll be responsible, I always am.”

You were grasping for anything, any reason to make your mother agree.

“Fine, but you do anything stupid, and I mean anything, then you’ll be in big trouble missy, and I want you to eat some more of that dinner, Lia puts a lot of work into feeding us.”

You swallowed the argument about your hatred for pasta, in favour of nodding your head meekly and twirling some of the noddles with your fork, forcing them into your mouth even if it made you cringe internally, it was a hard meal to swallow, but you did it for the sake of making your mother happy, something that you seemed to constantly be doing.

Once you’d eaten half of the pasta you called it quits, walking up towards the kitchen sink and cleaning out your bowl before placing it into the dishwasher and sacking it properly before closing it up.

You grasped for the vape hidden in your pocket, depserate for something to take the edge off from the conversation you’d had, the flavoured air providing a temporary comfort.

You dragged your feet back up the stairs to your bedroom, locking the door behind you and turning off the lights in your room.

Your room was cold, but you didn’t find yourself minding it.

You checked your lock for a second time, making sure it was definitely clicked shut before sliding underneath your bed frame and reaching around aimlessly for the container that was wedged into a corner of your mattress.

It didn’t take long for you to find it, your hand connecting with the rough plastic and pulled at it almost immediately.

You opened the container, forcing the lid open and picking out the bag that you were searching for.

Walking across the room in search of a card and flat surface was a mission that didn’t take long, both necessary factors found at your desk.

You opened up the bag, the answer to all of your feeling and struggles.

You shook a bit of the powder out of the bag, it was a routine that you’d adapted.

You’d always had routines, at eight it had been your nighttime routine. Bath, pyjamas, toilet, bed time story, cuddles, trying to get to sleep in your own bed, inevitably sneaking into your moms bed. At 12 it had been your pre match routine, wearing your moms first arsenal jersey to bed the night beforehand, a banana and bottle of water before the game, socks, shinpads, boots and a bottle of lucozade. At 14 it was your pre test routine, cue cards with one of your parents the night beforehand, a 12 hour sleep, a good luck hug from one of your moms and using your lucky pen. At 17 it was the little kit you kept underneath your bed, open it, find the baggy, spill enough of it onto your desk, push it into a line, take a deep breath through your nose.

It was a routine that kept you going, one that you clung to like the oxygen you breathed in.

When your mom tore her acl, your life changed permanently, no longer was any focus on you, it shouldn’t have really been a surprise that you’d fallen into a rougher crowd, that you’d turned to something else to help soothe the pain that had been coursing through your blood stream as everything changed around you.

It had started with pocketing a couple of your moms post surgery meds, oxy’s, they felt good, they felt so much better than anything else you’d tried to help fix you. But they were in limited amounts and it was hard to steal pills when Lia was monitoring everything that your mom did and took. You’d made friends with the girls in the form above you, and then their friends who were older, and eventually you’d found yourself out at parties on nights when you told your mom that you were spending the night with your mama in Birmingham, it had been eays enough, she was too focused on her knee to pay much mind to what you were doing and who you were doing it with.

There was enough money lying around the house, it wasn’t hard to find and subsequently it wasn’t hard to find somebody who was willing to give you more than you could find at the parties you where going to.

It had felt good, like for the first time in a while you had people who you could relate to, who were dealing with the same problems as you, you felt like you’d found a somewhere that felt more like a home than anywhere you’d been before.

The vapes had been a way to disguise it, to make your mom feel like she could control the bad things that you were getting up to, if she monitored your vape usage then why would you search for anything else?

Self-soothing.

You finished your routine by pushing the baggy back into its box and securing the box back into the spot it had come from, making sure that it was hidden from sight, before climbing into your bed and waiting for the proper high to hit you.

Weed and nicotine were good, it had been where you started out, but nothing hit better than a real high, a real proper feeling that made you feel inundated with complete numbness in the best way possible. It made everything quiet, every doubt and pain in your soul quietened down and it made you feel at peace.

You supposed it was what made drugs so addictive, specifically meth. They made a person in pain feel normal, it made an angry person feel calm, it made a sad person happier than ever, it made a person searching for everything yearn for nothing. It fixed every problem known to man and every problem man knew.

When the high hit you felt it across your whole body, your thoughts, pain and the loudness inside of you faded, everything faded, all you felt like was a body, devoid of everything besides the body you were inside of. To you, it was the best feeling in the world, it was a feeling you’d been searching for since you were a kid, when you’d felt so alone and unloved that you would have sold all of your internal organs if it meant that you could have felt the same amount of nothingness that you were in this very moment.

You would lie awake for hours riding it out, staring up at the ceiling of your room, studying the different ridges and bumps across the white plaster. Once upon a time it had been blue, with white clouds all over it, little stars and rainbows across it, when Jordan had moved out you’d forced your mom to cover it up, it was just another reminder of the love that you’d once found in your house miraculously fading away.

It normally took a few hours for the initial high to fade, for the endorphins and adrenaline pinging around in your bloodstream to calm down for you to be able to drift off to sleep, you didn’t really mind, you were used to it. Once upon a time it was the same feeling you’d gotten when your moms would smile at you, or when you would step off a football pitch after 90 minutes, or when you’d get a good score from one of your exams. Once upon a time it had all been organic, it had been natural, now it was all forced, a chemical reaction that your brain craved.

Somewhere around 4am you drifted off, it was convenient because it meant you’d be dead asleep when your mom and Lia left for the training ground, saving you from the interaction with the two of them.

You awoke around 12 o’clock, you dragged yourself downstairs and into the kitchen, enjoying the emptiness that surrounded you. At your mama's house there was Blu, and for some reason it always felt more crammed. At your mom’s house everything was open, quiet, tucked away. It was the way you liked it, plus she was gone more often with media commitments and Arsenal playing in the Champions League, so it meant you were home alone most of the time.

You chugged your coffee like it was your first drink in days, groaning when your mom’s contact started buzzing up in front of you.

“Mom?”

You tried your best to sound awake, you don’t think your efforts were very successful.

“Hey bubba, how’d you sleep?”

You didn’t really think your mom actually cared about how you’d slept, more like it was a conversation buffer.

“Fine.”

You could hear the sound of your mom’s teammates in the background, a couple of months ago you probably would have been there with her, nowadays there was nothing you wanted less.

“Good. Look, I talked to Jord this morning, she’s going to come and hang out with you tomorrow until we get back, she should be around in the morning.”

The same anxiety that always seeped through your mom’s voice when she talked about her ex was easy to detect, like she was nervous to utter her name or mention her.

“Cool.”

You wondered why she hadn’t just left it up to you to organise something with your mama, but you supposed you hadn’t been great at that recently. Jordan’s number was something you had a aversion to.

“Which means I want you home before 1am, and I want you to be sensible tonight, your mama is very excited to see you tomorrow and I don’t want you being a dickhead or being dead to the world, You’ll be polite and spend time with her, understood?”

She made it sound like an assignment, like you had to be on your very best behaviour, like you had to put on a show for Jordan.

“Whatever.”

You heard a huff of annoyance from the other side of the phone, it was a sound you’d gotten used to, Leah used it frequently.

“Don’t whatever me, bubba please, Jords is really looking forward to it, she’s been feeling a bit left out by you recently so please for me, just try your hardest to be good for her. Be safe tonight, I know you and your friends like to have some fun but just stay safe, if you need anything don’t hesitate to send me a text or a call, I love you bubba.”

It felt empty, like your heart, like everything around you, like something she had to say.

“I love you too mom.”

The call fizzled out and you let a deep breath that you’d been holding in go, you did love your mom, it just didn’t feel like she loved you anymore.

You went about your day in a haze, your friends were due to come to yours before the party around 5 o’clock, so you had some time to yourself before then, time you were undoubtedly planning to do not a lot with. You tried watching tv, tried organising and cleaning your room, none of it took off the edge, none of it made the world silent like you needed.

It had all started with parties, a way for you to get out of your comfort zone, a way to make parties a little bit more enjoyable. Now you craved them to make your life more enjoyable, to make it all a little bit more bearable.

It was all one big routine.

For a while you throught it was getting better, everything was solving itself. You’d lie awake in your bed at 3am, riding out the last bits of your high and you’d realise that it wasn’t, that there was no solution to solve what had gone wrong with you and made you so fucking unlovebale.

You knew your existence wasn’t eays, hell Jordan and Leah had adopted you when you were at rock bottom, and they’d still found a way to love you, to make you loveable, but you figured somewhere along the way they’d run out of things about you that were loveable.

You weren’t normally someone who got high during the day, but you were home alone and figured why not, you’d been taking them at night for months now, what would a day time fix change? Everything felt better when you were riding on a high.

You spent the rest of your afternoon sat on your window sill, counting the cars as they drove past. When your friends came around at 5 o’clock you were ecstatic, hurrying down the stairs as fast as your woozy body would allow you.

You had friends that your moms met and friends your moms didn’t, these were the ones you were yet to introduce to Leah.

You didn’t think that she would approve of the friends that you hung out with when she wasn’t around, especially considering they were quite a bit older than you.

There were benefits to it, they bought you alcohol they could drive you around, they were smarter then the kids your age.

Maya, Olivia and Scarlett were nice enough, a little bit stupid but it didn’t bother you too much, you were all like minded, you liked to have fun and party, with the assistance of some recreational substances.

None of them batted an eye at your clear intoxication, pushing a bottle of something or another into your hands before walking with you up to your room to start getting ready.

The drink burned as it made it’s way down your throat, it was therapeutic, a reminder that while you felt disconnected from your body because of the drugs, you were still present.

You let one of the girls do your makeup, packing your face until you looked well over the age of 17, then allowing one of them to sort through your monstrosity of a closet until they found a cute corset top and skirt. Leah Williamson was a lot of things, a fashionista being one of them and that had always carried through to your wardrobe. You were more than equipped with clothing for every occasion known to man.

By the time you’d downed your first drink of the night the euphoria was starting to hit and you were starting to feel good.

By the time your second drink had been downed you were being thrown into a car and were on your way to the party, sharing a joint with Liv who was sat in the back seat with you, the two of you occasionally shotgunning the smoke or blowing a puff at eachother.

It was good, it was relaxing, it was what made you feel at peace.

Pulling up to the party was a whole different kind of feeling.

You didn’t know who’s party you were at, who’s house, where it was, it didn’t matter to you, not really, all you cared about was having a good time by your standards.

You flicked your phone onto silent, desperate to avoid any contact from anyone, instead focused on the spectacle around you as you stepped into the threshold.

Maya introduced you to someone she went to school with, a man that looked like he was nearly as far gone as you felt. You smiled at him, giving him a hug and nod, trying to rush the introduction so you could get a drink in your hand and take a seat.

“You’re quite cute aren’t ya, how old are you sweetheart?”

You looked across at your friend, curious as to whether you should lie or not, she nodded her head and you took it as approval.

“17.”

His smile only grew, his head cocking to the side.

“A youngin? I’m sure we’ll have some fun tonight, the young ones always know how to go harder, whaddya like, sweetheart?”

You tried your best not to appear uncomfortable, even if his attention was putting you off a little bit.

“She’ll take whatever, although she has been having some fun with ice recently, she likes her vape and some molly sprinkled in with it.”

Matt slapped you on the back, his smile only growing.

“Definitely a fun time then, I’ll catch up with you later sweetheart, I reckon I have something you might like, head on in guys, I’ll catch you later.”

It wasn’t a big house, it wasn’t small either though, it was full enough that it probably seemed smaller than it truly was.

There were people everywhere, which surprised you considering it was only early, not that you minded, it was more convenient anyways.

You were dragged to a couch with your friends, they were less far gone than you and almost immediately were sniffing up lines of whatever was on the coffee table in front of you.

There was so much happening around you that you struggled to understand it all fully, there were puffs of smoke coming from every direction, needles being handed around, different pills being popped, lines being sniffed. It was the kind of environment you liked to think you’d come to flourish in, it made you feel more relaxed then anywhere else on the planet.

You relaxed into the couch, enjoying the spectacle around you and subconsciously taking hits of your vape as you watched the splendour occur around you.

There wasn’t a single legal thing about it, but you didn’t care, there was a cold drink in your hand and the scent of pot and vapour surrounding you, it was the best place to be on the planet.

The night slowly started to fade into a blip as you made your way through more drinks, your body surrendering to the feeling of the alcohol coursing through you and the high slowly starting to fade. You were cautious of the fact that you needed to be home at a certain time, you didn’t want to push your mom’s wishes, you were also aware that you could manage another shoot up before getting yourself home.

“Oi, where can I find some meth.”

Maya had headed somewhere with some boy she knew from highschool and Olivia had left in search of a spot to smoke, leaving you and Scarlett.

“Go find Matt, he’ll hook you up.”

With legs like jelly and a swaying head you stood up from the couch, your vape clutched in one hand and empty bottle in the other. It didn’t take a lot of searching to find the man you’d been introduced to earlier, he was sat on a couch, a girl on either side of him, who both looked about as far gone as they could get without being passed out.

“Pretty girl, what can I do for you.”

You didn’t like the way the term of endearment slid off of his tongue so easily, in almost a condescending way.

“Do you have meth?”

You didn’t care if you were being too straight forward, you were itching for something to get you back 0onto the high that you’d been riding out for the past couple of hours.

“I do, but it’ll cost ya.”

You rolled your eyes, money was hardly a problem for you.

“I’ve got money.”

His head cocked the same way it had earlier.

“I don’t want your money sweetheart, c’mon, I’ll get you some meth.”

The same slippery term of endearment that made your throat hurt. He shook the two girls off of him, standing up with a lot more composure than you and beginning to walk out of the lounge room you were in and towards the staircase. You followed him up, holding onto the banister with everything you had and trying to keep up with him as the both of you arrived at the top and he began walking down a corridor, until he made it to the end and opened up a door.

You assumed it was his bedroom by the looks of it, which made you uncomfortable slightly but you accepted the fact you were craving a fix and he was potentially the only person who could supply it in this moment.

He rummaged through a bedside draw, until he pulled out a syringe and a bottle of what you assumed to be dissolved crystal meth. You’d always kept your distance from needles, it gave you a better high but it was harder to hide and harder to deal with, the powdered form was the least complicated.

You could feel your heartbeat pick up as he beckoned you over, patting for you to sit down on the edge of the bed. You walked over, taking a seat on the bed and watching with curiosity as he prepared the needle, and took your arm in his, securing a rubber tourniquet around your bicep and feeling your skin for a vein. Once he found it he picked the needle up, filling it with a couple of mls of the liquid before bringing it up to your arm, gently inserting it into the vein, sucking in a bit of your blod and watching the red swirl with the drug mix before pushing down on the syringe and inserting it into your blood stream.

It was immediate validation, your head dropping back with ecstasy as the drugs infiltrated your body.

“Feels good doesn’t it, sweetheart.”

You nodded your head, enjoying the sensation of the lingering sting as the needle was pulled from your arm and the tourniquet was untied.

His hands were on your chin, tilting your head up so you were looking at him.

“Now, I think it’s time I get my payment, hmm?”

You took one last breath, enjoying the validation of your high.

“I told you I have money.”

He shook his head and with the smirk on the corner of his lips you couldn’t help but feel slightly worried.

“No, I prefer my payment other ways.”

Even with the alcohol and drugs running through your veins, you couldn’t help but feel sick to your stomach immediately.

You were suddenly frighteningly aware of your position, and undeniably feeling a little bit scared.

“What way?”

You didn’t like how your voice wavered, your age becoming more obvious as you struggled to stomach the different thoughts going through your head.

“I’ll show you.”

His hands moved to your hair, dragging you off the corner of the mattress and onto your knees below him.

You tried to dissasociate it, tried to dissasociate as his hands fell to his belt buckle and fly, tried to disassociate so you didn’t have to think about the million no’s that were banging against your skull and leaving your lips as his fly came undone and he let his pants drop to his feet.

You’d never really expressed your sexuality, you hadn’;t felt the need t, both of your moms were gay, so were most of their friends, you knew no matter who you were dating they’d be happy for you, you knew that whatever this was though you didn’t want it.

With your weary head and drugged up body there wasn’t much fight you could put up as he opened your jaw for you and forced his way inside of you

You tried your hardest to dissasociate like you’d taught yourself, thinking about the high, thinking about the drugs, thinking about your moms, thinking about everything in your life that had once loved you and you’d once loved the same. Normally it worked, normally you trustd yourself to get you to that safe space that made you feel like no matter what was happening you could deal with it, you just couldn’t get it to work though, there were tears streaming down your face as his hands stayed planted in the roots of your hair, the hair a couple of hours ago that your friends had been curling and working on whilst you’d all be laughing.

He didn’t last long, that was something you were grateful for.

As soon as his hands left your hair you were bolting up from the floor, walking as past as your weary legs would let you before anything else happened that you couldn’t stop.

You catapulted your way down the same stairs you’d marched up happily, not paying any attention to the people in the background as you pushed your way out of the front door, breathing in the freezing london air and clinging to the freshness of it and how it cooled the pain in your throat.

You didn’t hesitate calling the uber, the tears on your face spraying down onto your phone screen as you tried your hardest to focus on the task at hand which was getting home and getting as far away from this as possible.

You didn’t care that your mom could track your uber account, you didn’t care that there were thirty unread texts from both of your moms and a couple of phone calls, all you cared about was getting home to your bed and doing whatever it took to forget about what just happened.

The uber was quick enough, you practically threw yourself into the back seat, trying to calm yourself down, but failing miserably.

If your uber driver noticed then he didn’t comment on the fact that you were practically hyperventilating in his backseat.

The car ride home was quicker then you thought it would be, you were so grateful it was an away game night, that you didn’t have to deal with anyone, but you were also secretly crumbling about the fact that you were all alone, that you had been all alone in that room with him, that you had no one to stop him and couldn’t do anything about it.

You were hardly steady on your legs as you unlocked the door with your keys and swayed your way into the living room and then towards the stairs, finding the incline slightly jarring but desperate to get to your room and bed so you could sleep of the horrendous feeling in your gut. High be damned, alcohol be damned, all you wanted was to be asleep, so you partially forget about all of this and hopefully it would fall victim to all of the endorphins in your head and be permanently removed from your brain.

Your room was cold, your window still open, you didn’t care.

All you cared was getting out of the too tight clothes you were in and getting into your bed.

You pulled at the corset, unbothered when you heard the seam ripping as you tugged at it, your skirt was easier. You flung a hoodie and pair of pyjama pants onto your body before climbing straight under your covers, your body shaking. You weren’t sure whether it was because of the high or because of the incessant hatred that had grown in your chest at the memory replaying over and over in your mind.

You clutched onto your vape, holding it in your hand and sucking up hit after hit as you tried to find solace in the flavoured air, hoping it would send you off to sleep.

You woke up with a headache like no other, your whole body hurt, and to the sound of repetitive banging at the front door downstairs.

You groaned out, annoyed at every single part of you for what had happened last night.

Your legs were still wobbly as you clawed your way out of your bed, your legs protesting with every single step you took, out of your room, down the stairs, to the peephole at your door.

Jordan, fuck.

You supposed in your haze it hadn’t been hard to forget about your mother’s appearance for today, you’d been trying desperately to forget so many other things that it must have slipped your mind.

You didn’t want to open the door, but you also knew you had to, so with every last piece of strength that you had in your body, you pulled the door open.

#woso #woso community #sammykworshipper thoughts #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #jordan nobbs #jordan nobbs x reader #trauma #pain #sammykworshipperfics #wobbs breakup #drug addiction #im sad so are u #im not the only one crying #sue me for hurting ur feelings #sick and twisted

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woahjo · 3 months

Text

i've been thinking a lot about a jjk hunger games au... gonna add content warnings just in case

cw: mentions of sex work, implications of noncon/trafficking, references to gore, canon typical violence and discussions for hunger games stuff

if satoru were a victor in the hunger games, he'd be a capitol darling. he'd be so adored and so admired. he's so handsome, so charismatic, that even some folks in one and two find him completely captivating.

he's a career from district four, who won his games with all the savvy of someone who was born to do it. when he volunteered, there was very little doubt that he was the most promising tribute. strong and surly. 18 years old with a long, lithe body and smile that screamed winner.

so of course he had sponsors and allies. of course he was highly sought after by the other careers. his district partner, a pretty person with a quiet and stoic disposition, was simultaneously proud of him and deeply threatened. they'd trained in the same class and she knew what he was capable of. no one remembers her name anymore, they just remember that he hadn't killed her. he'd spared her from what he could until someone else took her from this world.

it seemed that after she passed, satoru flipped a switch. that was it. the games would end and he'd come out on top.

after his victory, satoru had all the wealth he could need. no family anymore, hardly any friends save for the other victors, but money and wealth beyond what he'd ever imagined. it was dazzling even for him and his district was better off than most. career districts tend to be.

he disconnects from the world, lets snow sell his body and keeps playing the game. that's all there is left to do. to just keep playing. fame isn't all he thought it would be and satoru realizes now that he was too naive in volunteering. he dreamed of a kind of glory that doesn't exist and with every passing year, he grows more and more bitter internally of the kids after him who make the same mistakes.

then, three years after his games, an 18 year old from district 7 miraculously wins. you're an underdog, an unexpected victor from an outlying district with little to no chance of winning. but you did.

satoru meets you on your victory tour, when the fear of the arena hasn't fully worn off, and he's struck by the quiet stoicism you have within you. you're sweet, but with a bitter edge, given to you by your district and the unlucky hand dealt to you. he finds himself a bit in awe.

he thinks you hate him at first. satoru gets the impression that you hate him so much that you can hardly stomach being around him. it isn't until he pulls you to the side and warns you about what comes next, that you start to humanize him. that defensive glint wavers for a moment, leaving nothing but a pretty person with an unlucky lot in life. he's not sure why he warns you, but he does. he feels some sort of kinship with you. you've endured something similar, felt the same fear he felt, and you don't revel in it. instead, you quietly chew up the hand dealt to you and spit it out, something he never thought he could do.

satoru, a victor from district four with nothing left in this world, is awestruck by the idea that he can love someone this much. suddenly, it's not just about playing their game, it's about winning it. just surviving isn't enough anymore. with you in the equation, he needs to thrive.

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #cal.writing #im posting some drafts from my old blog onto here #but this has been rattling around in my brain #char.gojo #tw.trafficking #tw.implied noncon

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theliteraryarchitect · 25 days

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Hi! I wanted to say, I read that you are a professional editor, and think it's amazing! You also give very logical and well explained advice. I was wondering; would you say being an editor is a job you can support yourself with? I actually aspire to become one someday, but I'm not exactly sure if it's a good plan.

Thank you for your time, and I hope you have a good day/night

Hey there. Great question. It's totally possible to support yourself as an editor. I've done it, and so have other editors I know. However there are a few important things to consider before choosing editing as a career path.

Your chances of being a self-employed freelancer are extremely high. The number of in-house editing jobs in publishing are low and getting lower. While being self employed can give you a certain amount of flexibility, it also comes along with a lot of hustle and hassle, namely fluctuating income, a stupid amount of confusing tax paperwork, and the need to constantly promote yourself to clients in order to maintain steady work.

You probably won't make as much money as you'd think. Editing is one of the many skilled jobs that suffers from market saturation, which has sadly driven down the price the average client is willing to pay for editing services. I can't tell you the number of overqualified editors I know charging barely more than minimum wage for their work. Personally I've stuck to my guns about charging what I'm worth, but I've sometimes suffered by not having as much work as my colleagues who charge less.

Robots have already chipped away at the future of editing as a human occupation, and will continue to do so at exponential speed in the years ahead. They will never obliterate the job completely, as there will always be humans who prefer to work with humans instead of machines. But the outlook will become ever bleaker as more humans compete for fewer gigs, which in turn will drive down prices even further.

If you are also a writer, editing may adversely affect your writing. I don't mean that you'll become a worse writer, quite the opposite. My editing work has brought new depths to my writing, and I'm grateful for all I've learned by working with my clients. However, editing takes time, uses creative energy, and requires staring at a screen (or paper), and personally the more I edit, the less time/creativity/screen-staring capabilities I have left for my own writing.

If you mention you're an editor, someone will troll your post for a typo, grammatical error, or misused word, and then triumphantly point it out to you in the comments. This is mostly a joke. But it does happen every single time.

I hope this hasn't been too discouraging. If you feel a true passion for editing and really enjoy the work, none of the above should dissuade you. However, if you think you might be happy in any number of occupations, I'd honestly advise you to explore other options. Choosing a career path at this point in history is a gamble no matter what, but the outlook for editors is especially grim.

If you'd like to work with writers and aren't attached to being an editor, there are a few jobs (still freelance) that I believe will survive the coming robot apocalypse. Do a little Google research about "book coaches," "writing coaches," or "book doulas." These are people who act primarily as emotional supporters and logistical helpers for writers who are trying to get their book published or self published. Some of them do actual editing, but many do not, and due to the therapeutic nature of their work I believe they will flourish longer than editors in the coming robot apocalypse.

If you do explore editing as a path, the further away you can lean from spelling and grammar (e.g. proofreader or copyeditor), the longer your skills will be useful when competing with robots. AI still struggles to offer the same kind of nuanced, story-level feedback that a human can give. (Speaking from experience here--I'm a developmental editor and have yet to see a dent in my workload because of robots.) They'll catch up eventually, but it could be a while, and as long as there are human readers, there will always be humans who are willing to pay for a human perspective on their writing. Human spell checkers maybe not so much.

Hope this helps!

#writeblr #asks #op #editing

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jade7b · 3 months

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Terrible sleep paralysis torment you for months. The problem does not seem to be psychological... what really happens at night? As much as you’re afraid to admit it, something seems to torture you... maybe rape you?

❗️I’m not trying in any way to romanticize what will happen in this shot! Everything you read will be quite dark and strong, so please, if you are sensitive to this, do not interact!

18+/ sleep paralysis/horror/gore/mahito rape you

Rape/Non-con ElementsRapeRape FantasyRough SexVaginal SexRough Oral SexPenis In Vagina SexVaginal FingeringFingerfuckingMahito is His Own Warning (Jujutsu Kaisen)Mahito Being an Asshole (Jujutsu Kaisen)Yandere Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Creepy Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Slutty Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Top Mahito (Jujutsu Kaisen)Blood and GoreGoreMild GorePsychological HorrorBody Horror

Sorry for any errors, this fic is translated from italian!

SLEEP PARALYSIS

-Mahito x Reader-

«How long have sleep disorders been going on?».

«Months», your lips had rippled, «about six months», you had corrected yourself, while you made to wander your tired look on the furniture of your doctor’s office.

He called your name, taking you away from your thoughts.

«I read your medical records, you changed more than three psychoanalysts before you got to me. I wonder, are you sure that it is only this?».

Your eyes had met his. Two heavy shiners made you look like a rag, and the young man in front of you, no matter how professional he tried to be, couldn’t help feeling sorry for you.

What I’m trying to tell you is that even sleeping pills don’t work, and you know that? I tried everything, natural remedies and not-», you were angry, you hated, when they suggested that your problem was only in your head, because it wasn’t.

The more you convinced yourself, the more the doctors turned against you, and even this time it was no different.

«I mean the presence and the phantom sensations of pressure on the chest can be a symptom of post traumatic stress. It is easy for you to experience frequent sleep paralysis for this reason. Perhaps if we faced the problem psychologically it would be better. I think you understand, I can not continue to prescribe drugs, without knowing what could be the trigger».

You had sighed, swallowing. Yet another hole in the water.

Coming out of the clinic where you had gone in the morning, you had inhaled the air of Tokyo as if it were the best air in the world- it was absolutely not and your lungs filled with smog and tar.

You swallowed, your throat was dry, your eyes were burning, your head was beating.

All feelings you had begun to endure.

You were a young girl in your twenties, with a wonderful career ahead of you, a capable and brilliant woman, yet, life had decided to put you in front of all this.

As you walked through the crowded streets of Tokyo, the chaos of the metropolis seemed like a distant echo in your mind. The doctor mentioned the possible link between the trauma you suffered and your sleep problems, but it was difficult to accept that the solution could simply be psychological. You had sought comfort in sleeping pills and remedies of all kinds, but nothing seemed to relieve your tormented mind.

The memory of the incident kept haunting you, the details of the horrible day bouncing around in your head like an incessant echo. You had tried to escape reality, but the pain persisted, crept into your dreams and attacked you in the form of night paralysis and feelings of pressure on the chest.

A few months before the accident happened. A terrible car accident took away the love of your life, your sister.

Seeing her half beheaded between the sheets of the car had horrified you to the point of making you vomit on the spot. You screamed desperately, your brow ragged with blood, and his dead eyes now filled your nightmares.

If only that day you had not chosen the wrong path, you were sure, that now life would not be so unlivable.

Your soul weighed like an anvil, dragged you down, and your wings struggled to give you the push you needed to survive.

The nights were all the same: you lay down in your bed, trying to calm down, trying not to think about anything.

And what happened was you fell asleep... but then... then...

At first, you could only feel the languor of falling asleep. However, soon that numbness turned into something more sinister. An invisible but inexorable presence began to tighten your ankles, crawling along your hips and even creeping into your belly. It seemed like a subtle force, unpredictable, penetrating the depths of your bowels.

The sensations became more and more invasive, as if invisible hands shuffled you from within. As you tried to fight against the immobility that imprisoned you in your bed, your ability to breathe was being tested. An invisible but oppressive weight made every inspiration a titanic task.

«We will make it grow», a voice whispered, «we will make it grow», again.

And then the same hands came to your chest, squeezing you, choking you.

Then you’d wake up, turn on the light in panic, your forehead full of sweat, and your heart rate.

The monotonous routine of this anguish was constantly repeated, night after night. Something, a dark, elusive entity, crept into your intimate space and tortured you mercilessly.

It wasn’t just passing visions or post-traumatic stress hallucinations. Reality was carved into your skin, in painful bite marks on your breasts and bruises scattered all over your body. You couldn’t ignore the physical testimony of what happened during those nights of terror.

You looked for answers everywhere, you explored every rational possibility, but the conclusion was inevitable: you were not crazy. Those marks and scars you were carrying were tangible proof that something dark and insidious was happening.

It was a night predator that fed on your terror and vulnerability. And there was no room for rational explanations or psychological excuses. It wasn’t a matter of post-trauma, something real, at night, crawling into your bed, and it wasn’t something you were hiding from yourself: this presence was raping you.

You couldn’t explain how you came to this conclusion, but inside you the answer was becoming more and more obvious.

And so, desperate, you decided to adopt plan B.

The medium you asked for an audience with seemed to be one of the best. You paid her handsomely, and when you let her into your one-bedroom apartment, she twisted her nose.

You had no knowledge of this world, you had no interest in it, and despite your attempts to pretend, you still felt perplexed.

«Miss», the woman in her fifties had called you, while she was searching the living room, «can you take me to the exact place where the "contacts" take place?».

You had gasped, as a slight fear crept into your bowels and appeared in your face.

« I feel your discomfort, how could you not have it? This apartment is full of cursed energy».

Failing to understand what she was mumbling about, you had obeyed her request, making your way down the narrow corridor, and then opening the door.

You stopped in the window and nodded.

You didn’t mean to cross that threshold, just the thought of it made you sick.

The medium, however, had proceeded with her head held high, turning on the lights of the chamber.

The steps resounded muffled in the carpet, while carefully inspecting the desk, then the blankets and pillows of your bed.

«It happens here...», she whispered. She walked the blankets with her hand, until she reached the foot of the bed, «rising from here», she had crouched, as if she were imitating what that presence did to you. Her hands were on the covers. «it blocks your ankles», her hoarse voice resounded in the walls of the room, «it runs through your legs», she crushed the fingers between the unmade blankets, «coming to your belly», she crushed the mattress as if under her there had been you.

«And then...», her hands went up again, cup-locking on those you imagined your breasts might be.

The woman, lowered her head, had no idea what she was actually doing, but you had to admit that her explanation was accurate enough for you to understand that she was not a charlatan.

«It tastes you».

An unpleasant sensation made its way into your stomach, «I understand», she had said to herself, as she was getting out of bed.

He went through her purse, pulling out what appeared to be a talisman.

«In the realization of the talisman it is very important to respect the hourly and planetary correspondences, in fact there is always a specific day and a precise lunar phase to build and consecrate it. You are lucky, today the Moon and the stars are clearly visible», said the woman while consecrating some.

She placed one right under the bed, one above, and another in your bedroom door.

Perplexed, you frowned, «that’s all?» you asked, «three stupid pieces of paper?».

The medium smiled, «do you have other alternatives?».

The question left you motionless, unable to answer.

«no...», you had answered, driving her back to the front door.

«The curse is powerful, but I am sure that this will be able to keep it at bay for a while».

«What?! With all the money you asked me for? Did you manage only to "keep it at bay for a while"? Are you kidding me?» The woman smiled, then gave a small laugh of derision, «maybe you should have called an exorcist?».

You were so frustrated, so... so...

Bitter tears had run down your cheeks, you had dried them almost immediately, trying to keep calm.

Don’t worry, you thought, crashing on the living room couch, wait to see if these talismans work.

***

With wonder and relief, the sleep paralysis that had tormented your nights seemed to be a distant memory.

A week had passed since you could finally close your eyes without the fear of being trapped in a limbo of impotence. Your night’s rest had become a precious refuge, an oasis of peace that you had begun to fully enjoy.

The evenings followed a reassuring ritual: the return home from work, a hot shower that dispelled the accumulated tensions, a satisfying dinner and finally the refuge in the blankets of your bed. Everything seemed to fall into the natural order of things, as if normality had finally returned to claim its place. However, the tranquility you had so longed for was perhaps only an illusion, a prelude to a new chapter of horror.

In the second week of serenity, a strange feeling had crept into the air.

One night, while you slept deeply, the pungent smell of something burning had disturbed your sleep. Your awakening was immediate, and in the darkness, putting the blankets aside, you realized that something was wrong.

Your eyes slowly adapted to the darkness, and before you, the atmosphere lit up with a sinister light. A crackling blue fire enveloped the talisman hanging from your door.

A sense of disbelief enveloped you as a figure began to take shape.

It was a robust body, but its humanity seemed distorted. A man, or perhaps something that might have looked like a man, materialized before your eyes.

Your mind tried to deny what it saw, but terror took hold of you as the breath became disjointed. Your lips rippled in a desperate sigh, while your terrified eyes closed as if they were denying reality. Gasps and sobs were released from your chest as you carried your arms in front of you, as if that impotent gesture could protect you.

You just hoped the last talismans could protect you, but... well...they couldn’t.

You saw it when they both caught fire at the foot of your bed and a cold breath began to move some of your hair.

«You surprised me», a voice made your blood freeze, «closing me out like this...» it was distorted and gruesome as it echoed in the darkness. It had a stamp that sent chills down your spine, and as you desperately tried to move, your impotence became more and more overwhelming.

His scornful laughter echoed through the air like a macabre background. «You tried, you and that stupid bitch», his mocking tone crept into your ears, causing you another sob of terror.

«Go ahead yes, continue to be afraid, it is even better if you cry».

His body locked you in a corner of the bed, leaving you with no way out. You were alone, you and his dark presence, which seemed to devour the air around you. Every word spoken was like a direct blow to your soul, bringing out a sense of degradation and unspeakable terror.

«Did you really think you could stop me from still possessing you? Naive, stupid inferior human», he whispered in your neck, his breath cold as frost on your skin. «I thought you would behave well, like the good pet you are».

His words were filled with contempt, a humiliation that imposed itself on you like a chain, enveloped your spirit.

His words didn’t make sense to you, and yet, you didn’t have the courage to argue, you had the feeling that if you tried to move a muscle, he would tear you apart right in that moment.

You hadn’t yet had the courage to open your eyes to look your tormentor in the face, let alone have the strength to escape from his clutches.

His hands ran down your hips, embedded in their retracting curve.

They put pressure on you, made you scream in fear.

«I had a continuous thought, I have always had it from the first day in which I have seen you», his lips settled languid in your half uncovered belly. Your chest was hurting, your hiccups were shaking and your throat was parting, making it sore.

«Please», you had whispered, «don’t hurt me», your eyes were still closed, full of salty tears.

You had finally had the courage to speak as you laid your hands on his in a desperate attempt to divert them from yourself. You put a little pressure on him, but the guy on top of you didn’t seem to want to cooperate with you. In your desperate act, you saw that his hands presented what appeared to be scars, perhaps... seams?

«Hurt you?» he laughed almost out of control, «I don’t know, I’ll probably do». Your eyes became two saucers, so scared that who was in front of you couldn’t help but notice it.

«Are you afraid? Yes, I imagine it is so, otherwise how could I feel so regenerated?».

Then his face took shape in front of yours.

His two-tone eyes peered at you in the darkness of the night, so evil, so frightening that they cut your breath. His hair covered his sewn face, it was so surreal it felt like a horror movie.

His hands grabbed your wrists with a surprising force, far beyond what would be expected of an ordinary man. Despite your attempt to resist, his grip intensified, and in response to your affront, he gripped your wrists until they broke.

A deafening and desperate scream broke free from your mouth, but the man’s reflexes prevented you from venting your pain altogether, resting his lips on yours.

Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting.

He had the urge to lick your lips and grunt angry when you didn't want to.

With your wrists completely broken by now, you couldn’t defend yourself, so he freed them, putting his big, rough hand in your cheeks.

You were hurt and violated, could something worse have happened?

When his hand slipped in your belly to make room between your legs, you knew there was something worse.

«No!» you cried desperately, «no... no, no-».

«Yes, yes, yes, cute, little…».

Your head was beating, your heart seemed to want to explode in your chest, your sore wrists, victims of a broken fracture, were hurting so much that you missed the air.

«You will love this, you will love to take it, won’t you? Will you become the key to my experiment? You will carry my child so well, yes... you will be perfect».

You weren’t listening to almost anything that was vomiting on you, too traumatized, too aching to focus on his words, and it was bad, since he had just confessed his no longer hidden desire to impregnate you.

His hands stripped you of the oversize shirt you were wearing, lifted it up to your breasts, leaving your sensitive boobs exposed.

«I have raped so many women in my life by curse... but you... you are by far the most beautiful of all».

His hands landed in your ribs, forcing you to settle under him.

With one hand he would block you from the neck, keeping you under control as his head went down into your chest, tickling your collarbones with his hair.

When his mouth closed in your turgid sensitive nipple, you tried to look at the ceiling as much as you could. You just hoped it would be over soon, yeah, it would be over quickly, you’d just be estranged, and everything would just seem like a bad nightmare, right?

You told yourself that, but it seemed more complicated than expected.

His mouth sucked mercilessly, popping into your irritated reddened skin.

Bites and bruises took shape in your body, immediately you were back to being the pitiful girl of a few weeks before, while your body lay untidy between the covers of your bed.

Another sinful kiss reached your lips, but you, once again, had not returned it. Your muteness was followed by some hiccups and supplication but nothing seemed to stop the monster above you.

Your body’s natural reaction to his touch made you felt sick . Your bowels twitched at the thought of pleasure, you hated it, you hated that feeling so much, you would rather die.

«Now you will be a good girl, but there is no danger that you will be a bad girl, isn’t it true, pet?» Your half-opened lips made the curse above you even more aroused.

He bit your shoulder and made you bleed, and then, under your increasingly obvious shock, he took off your shorts and panties.

In a moment of lucidity you had brought your sore hands towards your intimacy, crying like a defenseless little girl and still begging him to let you go, to stop, not to do this to you... but nothing seemed to change his mind.

The curse slowly and forcefully pulled your hands from your most sensitive spot, giggling at you and your despair.

«How rude I am», he smiled , «I didn’t even introduce myself».

You struggled frantically in his grip, «As if I could give a fuck! Disgusting monster!».

The sick look of those who were torturing you became even more intense, He licked away your tears, while keeping you perfectly under his control.

«Oh, then you too have a spirit of survival, I thought you had lost the desire to fight», two fingers crept into your wet folds, surprising you.

You had bitten your lips, unable to restrain your weeping, disordered moans.

«I am Mahito», he had whispered in your right ear, while he was fucking you with his fingers, «keep this name in mind», he said kissing your ear shell.

«I am sure that soon you will shout it of your own free will».

Overwhelmed by his brute strength, you couldn’t help but cry.

Your sexual experiences could be counted on the fingers of a hand, what it was doing to you was something so abominable, and yet, your body could not help but react to unwanted caresses.

Dissociating seemed like something impossible, no matter how hard you tried to prove it, the feeling of his fingers inside of you wouldn’t let you get distracted.

Beyond that, the pain in your wrists grew stronger and stronger.

When you saw the face of the curse dipping between your thighs, settling on your violated pussy, you thought this was the first time someone was eating it, and no, it wasn’t something you wanted to get done; your shyness had always blocked you, but now there were no alternatives.

Still clenching your eyes, salty tears fell down your cheeks, now in a silent cry that heralded your destiny.

It was obvious, you couldn’t save yourself, it was too late, and when his tongue had sunk into your wet folds, you couldn’t help but arch your back to get away from his ruthless mouth.

In that desperate refusal, Mahito grabbed you by the side, trapping you in a cruel vise.

He licked all your excitement, lingering on your little feminine bud, there was nothing more annoying when his teeth grabbed him making your lower abdomen numb.

«No... I beg you, enough... I don’t want it», a guttural lament made you tremble like a leaf while the curse didn’t give sign of wanting to yield.

He sucked, then dipped his fingers in your tight opening.

You would have cum, you would have orgasmed, and you would have hated it, you would have hated yourself so much, so much...

With a choked-up moan you let yourself go into the spasms of orgasm, and as much as you hated to admit, it was painfully enjoyable.

He continued to overstimulate you as your thighs squeezed into his face, prey to a primal instinct that even you didn’t understand.

He caused a few complaints, while, horrified, you had noticed that his hand had rushed to rub the erection in his pants.

With a trickle of saliva tying his lips to your messy pussy, you couldn’t help but think the scene was tremendously erotic. Something made you pulse down there, and you certainly wouldn’t forgive yourself.

«Try to be honest with yourself», his voice teased you, while his hands spread out your legs again.

«And don’t hide», he said by rubbing your clitoris quickly.

Your sighs had become little squeaks of torment.

«e-enough... Enough... Too-»

«Poor little pet», he said slapping you in your core, «you are so desperate... You want more, don’t you?»

You were still crying, louder and louder, as you felt something rigid make room for yourself.

«Indeed...», he said, turning on your stomach, his lips in the shell of your ear, «I want to fuck you like a fucking dog, yes, as if we are two animals».

You were shaking like a leaf, and your wrists were throbbing with pain.

«they hurt me, this position... I can’t...», a slap angrily hit you on your buttocks.

«Shut up... be quiet», he bit you in the lobe, while his hands pushed you in the back, forcing you to adhere to the mattress.

Your butt was high, your femininity completely exposed to him, who was still torturing you with his fingers.

When he penetrated you with his monstrous cock, the squeaking from your throat intensified.

When he had started to move his hips in slow but deep and angry thrusts, you had screamed in pain.

Your pussy opened up to him, wrapping his long and big excitement.

A ring of delicious cream had formed around the circumference of the curse, and the more he stopped to study it, the more his horny cock enlarged.

«Don’t you feel what you’re doing to me?» he pulled your hair, forcing you to suffocate in your pillow.

«Don’t you feel how much we are made for each other?» one more push, one more scream from you.

You were a total mess, so physically challenged, you couldn’t even think straight.

The thrusts had become stronger and faster, his hands now, had run down your delicate neck, clutching him in a vise.

Her teeth sank into your back and shoulders as you trickled blood down and dirty the bed and your shirt crumpled over your tits.

«h-help», you had whispered in terror, unable to think clearly, «please».

«I’m sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but nobody will help you», with three other pushes he had come angrily inside you, filling you with his hot cum. You could hear it drip, while in an animal act, it continued to penetrate you without mercy.

«s-someone... Help me».

As you closed your eyes, you couldn’t help but feel the evil laugh of the curse above you.

«We will be together forever», He kissed your back , imperlated of sweat and blood.

«we will be together forever and you will adore it, you will love me, you will give to me a half cursed son».

Completely unconscious, your vision had become clouded, and even this could not block the cursed spirit.

«Open your legs, it will be a long night, you know?».

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writingforatwistedworld · 2 years

Note

hi! I love your blog, you have great ideas for Au's and writing the characters.

Could I ask for Idia, Azul and Vil's reaction to which reader is getting married but chooses to leave their partner standing at the altar and run away with them? it was an arranged marriage or something

(yandere au, please excuse my english, I'm using a translator)

Yandere x reader

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, marriage, unhealthy relationship, kidnapping, imprisonment, illegal substances, manipulation, obsession

Azul Ashengrotto, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud-Running away from an arranged marriage with them

Ok, first of all, how was it even able to come this far?

I mean, this man takes everyone out who just looks at you in a funny way

No matter how suave he is with everybody elso he is a huge manipulative softy around you and… now you are getting married?

Mhm great ok but why isn’t he the one signing those papaers??!

Instead there is that random stranger who, oh goodness, looks just like a fool who would accept even a contract from the most obvious scammer in this world

And would you look at that? It’s a contract! With the fools signature!

Having no other choice but to hand you over your guests and whoever you were forced to marry can now only watch as you to vanish into the sea

“You are shaking dear. Were you so afraid of getting maried to them? Don’t you worry, I will take care of you.”

Well at least you now have the option to escape whilst you were chained to some stranger in the earlier scenario…

But how was our local octopus sushi roll capable of getting that signature?

Of course Azul wouldn’t just waltz into the room and take you with him

He might, and the keyword is might, have used… legal and less legal substances to make your now ex-fiance agree to hand you over in exchange for a stack of money

Never mind the two danger noodles who were standing behind Azul and hovered over them whilst signing the papers

But hey! You are now having a home here! Under water! With chances as good as none to anyone ever finding you! More time for the two of you... yay?

Ok, Vil is, in theory and sense, rich from being so famous

And somehow the person who set this marriage up was able to push through with the preparations without problems?

Uh... is this some weird parallel dimension?

Despite his harshness whenever beauty (and how dry your hands looked) was presented in the discussions you two shared until now he is... in truth very tender whenever he is thinking about you

Rook being a menace? Show him a photo of you and he is silent once more

Epel didn't do his skincare routine again? Tell him something about you he didn't know and he is doing it for the young man

An assistant during a modeling gig spilled coffee over his clothing? Mention you and he is calm

Tell him that you are getting forcfully married off? Well then... oh uh... I think there is nothing there to stop him from breaking down the door

Epel and Rook also there, the first ready to snatch the cake and the second there to protect Vils “beau visage” (I can already feel the French going for my throat)

Yeah, that refined, cool mask is off and he is ready to burn the building to the ground, public image be damned!

Vil, sweety, I think you are stealing a certain faes role... TAKE THOSE FLAMES AWAY FROM ME!!!

But *ahem* back to them burning down buildings

Before you know it Vil is carrying you bridal style whilst scowling that things got this far

Oh? Happiness? Yes. You will experience that for a while... until you realize that you are trapped in a golden cage filled with skin care products and luxury brands... and oh! Almost forgot! With Vil Schoenheit himself, the legend, taking care of you

But how was he able to make sure no one found out about the incident?

Well, now there is a new kind of beef. Vil posted that there was a certain individual who had been harassing him and who wants to end his career with lies. Whoops! He also leaked their account!

But my dear, don't you worry about that. All you need to do is to stay in your little golden cage, stand in still like Snow White did in her coffin and just enjoy the presence of your beloved. No need to think about someone who will be hunted down soon by an angry mob after all...

You would be pardoned to think “Idia is a shut-in. No way he will blow that marriage up!”

I said pardoned, not being correct

You see, he might not be able to so much in person but that doesn't mean he behind a screen can't

No, seriously, take that PC away before he ends them once and for all

Also, you can ruin someone without a huge following on social media

Just be someone who can hack and is able to manipulate someone's data in their files

Suddenly police is storming the room, screaming at your fiancee to raise their hands slowly

Mhm, that was Idia

So still standing there in shook you didn't even notice the younger Shroud brother guiding you to his sibling

And that was where the awkward silence began

I mean, you were his sun, Hades Olymp, so close and yet so far away...

So how could he ever bear seeing you with another person?

Probably the best one to end up with of these three. He will not force affection upon you (being too shy himself), give you too much direct attention (only looking at you when you are distracted) and will even create a simulation of the outside world just for you

But why does the air feel so tense? Why does it feel like you have entered into a place beyond return, as if you are trapped in the Underworld?

Wes it his staring whenever you slept, catching him whenever you woke up and barely opening your eyes? Or were it the little touches of fingertips whenever he gave you something, feeling as if you had been burned

But no need to worry! They are gone and you are free! In his own, small world...

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asharkapologist · 4 months

Text

CRIMINAL CASE OCS, PT 1

This has been a WIP for quite some time, but I have finally finished the OC sheet for my Mysteries of the Past player character, Ethel Evanoff! (Note: she's not the same player character as the rest of the games). Tagging @chelleinyy as asked! Information about Ethel is found under the cut. Spoilers for Mysteries of the Past, and TW for mentions of mild sexism, physical and mental illnesses, and war.

Born in the United States, parents were immigrants from the Russian Empire

Always wanted to be a police officer/detective, but no one in her local departments wanted to hire a woman. However, she’d heard of Concordia’s progressiveness and willingness to give women opportunities other cities were not, and so she moved to Concordia and worked with the Concordian Police Department.

Over the years, grew irritated with corruption and laziness in the police department, and therefore showed great interest in the Flying Squad when it was formed, and was hired by Arthur at age 28 in December of 1897.

Always tried to be a mediator between suspects and the police, not very prone to anger--the “good cop,” if you will. However, this kindness while still being professional led to her growing quite fond of many suspects and liking them as people. This led to her being more affected than other detectives/officers when they died.

The events of Sinner’s End, Coyote Gorge, and Crimson Banks very negatively affected her. Seeing the Flying Squad’s complete inability to catch the Scarlet Slayer in Sinner’s End until she’d already killed countless young women, being unable to protect Vinnie after promising him protection, and being unable to prevent innocent civilians, including children, from being often fatally dragged into the gang war caused immense guilt, and her mental health began to suffer.

After Capital Peak, she was depressed and traumatized, having lost a friend she cared greatly about and not being able to save enough people who counted on her during her career. Her depression worsened when her parents both died in the early 1900s.

After her parents died and not feeling capable of working in a job where she was never able to prevent death, she retired from the Flying Squad, although she remained friends with her former colleagues.

Instead, she began to train to be a nurse, hoping that while obviously she couldn't save everyone, she would atone for all of the lives she couldn't save during her career by being able to actively work to help and save lives, hoping saving lives would assuage her persistent guilt.

Being a nurse didn't "cure" her depression by any means, but she found more purpose as a nurse than she did as a detective. She always smiled when a patient recovered from an operation or illness and was able to return home, and patients loved her for her ability to listen and her care for each individual in the hospital she worked. Additionally, she was able to befriend several coworkers.

Of course, when doctors failed to save patients, she felt the familiar sting of grief and guilt, even if she had nothing to do with the patient's conditions and any operation that failed to save their lives. She continued in her work, working herself to the bone to do her job as best as possible.

When World War I broke out, she was asked to serve as a nurse, considering her background in being more familiar with blood and violence than other nurses, and her high quality of work. While reluctant, she agreed, influenced and swept up in all of the pro-war, guilt-tripping propaganda constantly bombarding her (and everyone else in the nation), and at least hoping that she could still continue to save lives on the warfront.

While serving as a nurse, she was bit by a rabid racoon that wandered into her encampment. It was able to be put down before biting anyone else, and she was able to get a rabies vaccine before she contracted the disease, saving her life.

The war greatly disturbed her, making her PTSD and depression worse. Although she was indeed able to comfort and help many people in the war, the horrific injuries she saw on young men in the war never left her and joined her nightmares, along with images of particularly bad crime scenes she’d seen in her life.

However, what worsened her mental health most of all is the fact that all of her brothers--her only siblings-- served in and died in the war.

During the war, she fell in love with one of her fellow nurses. They courted, and he was able to bring some happiness, and companionship to her. They wrote letters while stationed in different places, which was a small comfort through the death of her brothers.

He proposed near the end of the war. However, before they could marry, he died in late 1918 of the Spanish flu, leaving her even more grief-stricken and heartbroken.

After the war, she spent time in urbanizing cities, appreciating the hustle and bustle/noise of industrialization over the quietness of nature, where there was little to distract from her troubled thoughts. She frequently painted as a way to cope with/distract from the death and blood she had seen for years, and frequently painted her would-be husband and family.

When war broke out again in 1939, she was in failing health and could not be a nurse again, and struggled to express herself in her art due to her poor health. Hearing of the violence happening again, on an even larger scale, throughout the world greatly distressed her and brought back disturbing memories of the death she had seen in her careers and personal life.

Kept letter correspondence with friends and colleagues throughout her life, but died alone in 1940 at the age of 71.

#criminal case mysteries of the past #criminal case #criminal case game #criminal case facebook #mysteries of the past #oc #ethel evanoff #cc motp

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wayfaringhoax · 1 year

Text

Acts of Service

Dave York x Female Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: Short one-shot centred around the idea that Dave's love language is acts of service.

Warnings: implied age gap, established (new) relationship, some slight swearing, very subtle references to sex. Mentions of previous relationships, divorce, co-parenting. Mentions of work-related stress.

A/N: Playing loose and fast with canon and new to fic writing, please be gentle!

When it comes to relationships, Dave York is a hands-on man.

You had come to appreciate that Dave liked to keep busy. Whether it be work or matters of love, he was not one to sit idle. Dave’s always been well aware that you’re a competent, independent woman. He knows you’re more than capable of facing challenges without him. But a chance to ease some of your burdens? Lighten your workload? Free up more time for your elaborate self-care rituals? Dave would do whatever he could to ensure you were comfortable.

Before Dave, you had never fully appreciated acts of service as a love language. Now, though, you understand just how fulfilled one can feel through having their partner care for them in such a subtle, yet intimate way. It was as though Dave saw you, so deeply, without any of the facades that new lovers present to each other. Despite having only been dating for a few months, he settled into your life like he’d known it all along.

Being with you felt natural; like muscle memory. When it came to taking care of you, he knew just what to do. It was as though he’d been waiting all his life to serve you. High-school girlfriends, short-lived situationships, his marriage to Carol - they were all lessons that shaped Dave into the man you adore.

It didn’t take you long to feel comfortable in Dave’s presence, so much so, that you gave him a key to your place after only a month together.

After a long and trying day at work, your body was almost ready to give out as you dragged your feet up the driveway. Dave was planning to come over that evening, and as he usually worked from home these days, it was customary for Dave to let himself in before you arrived. You had texted him to let him know you’d be home later, and the absence of enthusiasm in your text tone led your lover to believe that today had been rough. Dave York wasn’t the kind of man to write you love poems or shower you with regular words of affirmation - you had come to understand quite early on in your relationship that he was a man of action. So, of course, it never occurred to you that whilst you trudged home, Dave was wracking his brain for ways to comfort you and help ease the aches of the day.

Around twenty minutes later, your heels crossed the threshold and followed the alluring trail of lavender, sweet orange and clary sage to the bathroom where a bubble bath awaited you - accompanied by a glass of your favourite pinot noir and the glow of a candle, which looked suspiciously like the one you’d added to your Anthropologie basket whilst browsing online the week before. As you succumbed to the water’s gentle embrace, you began to develop a newfound appreciation for acts of service.

⟡

Caring for you, no, serving you, had become an instinct for Dave. He wanted to ensure you were supported in every aspect of your life. Whilst his career differed greatly from yours, he was aware that you had an upcoming deadline for a project proposal due, and he was determined to help lighten your workload. He gave you some much-needed space as you threw yourself into the process - planning and writing furiously for an entire week whilst he waited on the sidelines. You came up for air every now and again, usually to respond to Dave’s texts, which typically consisted of: “Have you eaten?” or “Get some fresh air, sweetheart”.

After the first week, you were in a good enough position to take a step back from it all and you casually mentioned to Dave that you were planning to ask a colleague or one of your girlfriends to proofread your proposal.

You never expected to receive an email from your lover the very next day; an edited copy of your work attached. You opened the file to discover that all of your typos had been corrected, as well as encountering a few additional comments on the document, detailing Dave’s constructive recommendations on how to enhance the style and tone of your piece. The email itself was without a subject and didn’t contain much in the main body, but you understood that Dave’s actions spoke louder than his words.

After all, he once told you that he didn’t believe in sin or virtue, but rather in the ‘shit that people do’. You were definitely beginning to value the ‘shit’ Dave does for you.

The next day, you walked into the office feeling lighter. Your mind, body and soul felt secure in the promise of your lover’s growing devotion to you.

⟡

You found yourself pleasantly surprised by another of Dave York’s acts of service a week later when he picked you up from work one afternoon. Having slightly overindulged in wine with the girls the night before, you had been running on little sleep and energy that day. In dire need of a pick-me-up, you had been fantasising about the prospect of coffee and a sweet treat all day long. It was entirely possible that you had forgotten how you shared this hangover-induced fantasy with Dave whilst on your lunch break, until you got into his car. You were soon greeted by a quick kiss across the car’s console and a curt “There’s coffee for you in the cup-holder”, before a Dunkin Donuts bag was dropped onto your lap as Dave put the car in drive.

⟡

More and more frequently, you were blessed with Dave York’s subtle yet thoughtful gestures. Even when it was his turn to have the girls for a few days, your presence still lingered on his subconscious. Dave had reluctantly given in to the girls’ pleas to go to the mall, and as he got them ready for their venture, he remembered that you needed to return a dress you bought recently - one you had conveniently left at his place. Dave swiftly retrieved your package from his bedroom and ushered the girls to the car.

The nature of Dave’s work meant that he was able to execute operations with immaculate speed, precision and efficiency. Despite finding himself in quite a contrasting environment, Dave was prepared to complete this shopping trip on the same principles as his usual assignments. Build-A-Bear, American Girl and GAP were swift in-and-out jobs, with a quick drop into Urban Outfitters to return your dress in a similar fashion. Later that day, as Dave settled down on the sofa with his girls to watch an all too idealistic Disney movie, you received an email confirming the return of your Urban package. Dave felt an unfamiliar, yet welcomed, tinge of warmth in his chest as he read your text, raising a slight smirk at your remark: “Thanks Mr. Courier. x”.

⟡

“You’ve got the girls on Thursday evenings, right?”, you asked Dave as you scrolled through the seemingly never-ending list of gym classes on your phone, waiting for something to take your fancy.

“Yeah baby. Why’d you ask?” was the response you received from your somewhat distracted lover, as he ran his hands up and down your calves which were currently draped across his lap whilst you both basked in the simple pleasure of each other’s presence.

You told Dave that you wanted to pick up a class during the week and that you thought it made sense for you to choose one that coincided with the nights Dave would have the girls over. Whilst you adored Alice and Molly, you were both in the early days of your relationship and therefore you were keen to give your lover some space, not quite sure of how you fit into their family dynamic just yet.

Excitedly, you let Dave know that “There’s a Pilates class on Thursdays. Oh, and it says here that the first session’s free.”

You were met with a curt murmur of “Let me handle it, baby” before you both settled down to watch the latest episode of your recent HBO obsession.

It was only 12 hours later when you received an email confirmation acknowledging your registration for Beginner’s Pilates, followed by a text from Mr. York himself, suggesting you wear ‘those purple yoga pants’ he was so fond of, the ones that hugged your curves just right, to your first session.

⟡

Friday could not come soon enough in your book. You’d been skipping all the way from the office to your car. Sure, it was the end of yet another working week, and god knows there’d be more of them to come, but this Friday was special. It was the start of your long-awaited vacation week. You had nine entire days to recharge your batteries, and you planned on making the most of your lack of responsibilities, considering how hard you’d been working this month.

You had been burning the candle at both ends for a while now, and you were looking forward to doing nothing for a whole week. Literally, nothing! Except, perhaps, those things that brought you joy, such as binge-watching Netflix for hours on end or eating ice cream straight out of the tub.

Yes, you had big plans for yourself. Not to mention, you were also eager to spend some quality time with your lover, anticipating that your newfound free time would offer ample opportunities for you to truly indulge in each other. These were the dreamy thoughts that swam around in your head as you turned on your engine and took down your hair, releasing it from its pinned-up prison.

Your eyes might’ve been on the road but your mind was driven wild with the endless possibilities of ways to spend your evening.

Apparently, fate had plans of its own. Plans to screw you, to be precise.

The ringing of your phone soon cut through your sense of inner peace, as you received a call from the guy who was due to fix your central heating. Turns out he could only make it around to your place tonight and he was already on his way over.

There you stood in the hall of your apartment. Downright furious at the prospect of having to delay your cute lil’ self-care evening a minute longer, you stewed in quiet frustration for a few minutes before dialing Dave’s number.

After picking up on the second ring, Dave was soon informed of your woes, and for the sake of your sanity, he let you vent for a while before telling you that he was on his way over.

Awkward smiles were traded as you exchanged small talk with the pleasant engineer, expressing that your boyfriend, who was much more knowledgeable on matters like these, would be over soon so you might as well wait for him before starting any repairs.

When the front door opened, you were overjoyed at Dave’s arrival. You eagerly took a step back and allowed him to swiftly take over interactions with the man, suddenly grateful for his ever-present need for control as it seemed to prove quite useful in this particular situation.

Several more words passed between the two men before Dave turned his attention to you.

“I've got this handled, baby. Why don’t you head upstairs? You had some self-care thing you wanted to do, right?”

You knew Dave York was often out of his depths when it came to discussing the things you liked. You even wondered whether he really understood the concept of ‘self-care’, having foregone such a thing during his intensive CIA days. However, your man was trying. He was trying to salvage your plans for the evening, trying to take some of that weight off your shoulder and make things a little easier for you. You recognised his intentions, and whilst you were still getting used to being taken care of in such a deeply personal way, you had come to appreciate how this man showed you love.

You were never one for extravagance. Never one who cared for elaborate gestures that gave couples something to boast about on social media and, you were coming to learn, neither was Dave.

You didn't need those lavish words of affection or performative displays of romance - they simply didn’t do it for you.

Honestly, you hadn’t really cared for acts of service much in the past. Yet as you held the lavender nail polish in your hands, you took a moment to reflect upon your relationship with the man currently in your kitchen. Feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, you plucked your glass of wine from the bedside table and loaded up an episode of Sex and the City. You were now perfectly relaxed, ready to begin your self-care rituals - but not before taking a moment to delight in the notion of acts of service.

Thank you for reading!

#dave york #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #dave york imagine #pedro pascal #the equalizer 2 #dave york fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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artbyblastweave · 9 months

Text

Due to my schedule I generally only see the new episodes of MAWS the Tuesday after they air, so I haven't seen the latest one yet. That said:

The set-up at the tail end of episode 4 goes a long way towards rehabilitating the traditional 1950s "Lois Lane trying to ferret out Superman's secret identity" plot beat. In the 50s it was just weird superdickery fodder, an extension of the cartoonish sitcom runaround that ate all superhero comics alive from the inside at that time. This iteration of it is more grounded in what's already been shown. In a story that takes itself seriously, there's no way that an antagonistic pursuit of Superman's secret identity wouldn't lead to some kind of disaster. But this version of Lois Lane is A.) pointedly career-focused and Out For Her Big Break, to the detriment of her friends, even if she comes to feel bad about it on reflection, B.) in a position to feel personally slighted because she connects the dots after she seals the deal on a relationship with Clark in his civilian identity, C.) has a specific hangup about people close to her keeping information from her (that's what the scene with the phone call from her father is doing.) The perfect cocktail to intelligently execute a really stupid plan.

And, from the other direction- Clark hasn't exactly been given a ton of confidence that Lois is a person he could trust with information this sensitive, has he? His formative experience with her involved her manipulating him into directly disobeying his boss on his first day on the job because she was so sure she was onto something. She specifically wants to blow open the Superman story for the sake of her career, regardless of how much damage it might do to the guy behind the costume- how much confidence should he have that he'll get any special treatment? Also worth mentioning that the Superman persona in this continuity post-dates Clark having to bust out the powers in public to save Lois and then having to professionalize his persona in a hurry because there was no going back after that; this isn't a long-kept secret, it's an emergent situation that he only sorta-kinda opted into and hasn't totally figured out the significance of. Contrast S:TAS, where Superman goes into his weird situationship with Lois being basically fully informed about his own background and capabilities. Overall the fact that everyone involved is around 23 and all relevant events have happened within a three month timespan is making this work.

On a related note, with the benefit of hindsight- I guess one shortcoming of S:TAS was never having Lois work any of it out on her own time. In theory she was a side character in a show about Superman but she still headlined enough plots that it maybe should have eventually come up that she was dating her coworker in his superheroic identity? Going on picnic dates with Superman in costume and yet it never comes up that he's working at the next desk over from her in his civilian identity? I mean, even if she's making the active decision not to know, or if she suspects but for whatever reason decides to just leave it unaddressed in the relationship-that would say something fascinating about her character, right? About Clarks? An unresolved tension there that always bugged me.

#MAWS #my adventures with superman #superman #thoughts #meta

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zoeykallus · 1 year

Note

Hello!! I have a angsty Suggestion! What if Jedi! Reader was caught being (sharing a kiss, mentioning said relationship…etc ) with their clone significant other by another Jedi member or an anonymous ratting them out? Maybe reviving a subtle punishment ? Suggestion: Maybe in one they managed to dodge the convictions but at a cost?

Aloha!

That in fact is an angsty idea. Well, the outcome would depend on who catches them, I guess... I picked some clones that came to mind in a scenario like this, hope that's okay:))

Oh dear, okay, let me try something ^^'

Hunter/Echo/Fives/Rex x Jedi!Reader HC's - Forbidden Love

Warnings: Angst/Hurt/Violence/Death/Fluff/Suggestive

________

Summary: You are stationed on Kamino to help train the clones. At first, you are not really enthusiastic about it. But unexpectedly, you meet a clone who makes your head spin, and the feeling is mutual. You both know that what you feel for each other is forbidden, both by the Jedi Code and by the regulations of Republic law regarding clones. Yet you cannot let go of each other, leading to a situation that could endanger your careers and even the life of the clone.

________

Hunter

He has his arms wrapped around you as you are involved in an intense, intimate kiss. You can't get enough of Hunter, even though guilt and fear of failure nestle somewhere in the back of your mind with each of your clandestine encounters. You're a Jedi, you should be above these things, but Hunter is so wonderful, passionate, strong, loving. He makes you weak, and you are only too happy to give in.

But your affection becomes your undoing when Jedi Master Shaak Ti catches you in this precarious situation. Hunter hastily lets go of you, and you quickly tug your robe back into place.

You hear the Jedi Master sigh.

"There will be repercussions," she says, sounding more sad than angry.

"Master please, I-"

With a simple wave of her hand, Shaak Ti interrupts you.

"You are a member of the Jedi Order, you know this kind of association with others is forbidden to us, and then with one of the clones. Do you have any idea what will happen to this clone if the Kaminoans find out?"

You shake your head silently.

Hunter knows, he turns pale next to you.

"I'm being decommissioned," he says quietly.

Shaak Ti sighs softly and says, "No, you won't. I'm not going to tell anyone about this. Not this time. I can only advise you to end this connection between you. If I catch you again, I'll have to pass it on, even to the Jedi Council."

You lower your gaze and say with a racing heart, almost breathlessly, "Thank you Master."

When you are alone again, you look at each other. The shock is still in your bones, you feel that you are shaking.

"What do you want to do now?" asks Hunter softly.

"I don't know," you say uncertainly, "but I don't want to part with you."

He smiles, "Then I guess we'll just have to be a lot more careful from now on."

Echo

You have found a quiet corner. Your arms are leaning around his shoulder, again and again you exchange soft kisses. Echo can't believe how happy he is, and so are you.

But you let go of each other, startled, when you hear someone clearing his throat to get your attention. As you turn around, your heart nearly stops. A Republican officer is standing there, looking directly at you. You don't know him by name, but you've seen him before.

Echo salutes hastily.

"Sir!"

The man crosses his arms behind his back and sighs.

"I have to say, I'm surprised to see a Jedi, of all people, cross that line with a clone."

An overwhelming sense of helplessness came over you.

"Well" he continued "I don't know what the Jedi do to their own kind, but I know what's in store for you, soldier".

"Sir?" said Echo uncertainly.

"Decomission."

Your heart gives an unpleasant leap.

"With all due respect," you say as calmly as you can "Are you really willing to condemn a capable soldier for falling in love like this?"

"Rules are rules," the officer says impassively.

You know what decommissioning means. Clones who broke rules were, depending on the offense, either redeployed, assigned to penalty work, or disposed of. Decommission meant disposal.

Echo next to you is eerily silent, he knows what he's in for, he's still in shock and can't believe what's happening right now.

Your gaze is silent over the surroundings, other than you and the officer, there was no one out here on the outside platform, no surveillance cameras. You're way too emotional, you know you're heading down a dark path right now, but you're not going to let this man take Echo away from you.

You reach out into the Force, grab the officer, smash him against the railing of the platform, knocking him unconscious, then you drop him over the railing into the depths and into the endless water below.

Your heart races. You have just deliberately killed this man. He was unconscious and would drown in the water. Echo rushes to the railing and looks down. The man is not to be seen, already disappeared under the surface of the water. Finally, he stares at you and his look is almost worse than the guilt you feel over this murder.

"What did you do?"

"I saved your life"

He shakes his head and says, "But not like that! We could have tried to run, to escape. Putting him out of action temporarily would have been enough!"

You realize with horror that he is right. You acted hastily, in panic. The thought of losing Echo had completely thrown you off balance. Maybe the Jedi rules weren't so wrong after all. A tear rolls down your cheek.

You swallow and look at him. Echo comes closer, his expression softening, he wipes the tear away.

"Mesh'la, I know you were panicked. But now take a breath, we need to focus, I will not leave you alone with this. We'll find a solution. Maybe running away is still a good idea."

Fives

Fives is a risk taker, he steals a kiss, a hug from you at every opportunity. You love that about him, but at the same time you have a bad feeling every time, because he is much too careless.

In fact, this risk-taking will be your undoing. You don't know who betrayed you, but you are called together to Shaak Ti's office. You are so nervous on the way there. You know something is wrong, something has gone wrong.

When you arrive at the office and Fives is already standing there, you see the worried look on his otherwise cheerful face. At the same moment, the door opens and Shaak Ti invites you in.

The Jedi Master paces in front of her own desk as she speaks, "I want to keep this as simple as possible. I have been presented with evidence that you both broke the rules, together. There is a reason why Jedi do not form romantic attachments, and why clone soldiers are forbidden to do so."

You swallow. You both remain silent, but your thoughts are so loud that you almost fear everyone could hear them.

"This relationship is hereby terminated," Shaak Ti said sternly, "Y/N, will turn themselves in to the Jedi Council and depart from Kamino later today, and very likely will not return here. Fives will continue to serve. We will handle this matter discreetly within the Jedi Order."

She sighs, finally stopping and looking at you, hands clasped behind her back.

"Fives will not be punished?" you ask cautiously, hopeful yet incredibly sad.

"No, he won't, because no one outside the Jedi Order will know. I see no reason for a Jedi's transgression to cause a very capable soldier to be mustered out."

Fives looks at you warily from the side, then back at Shaak Ti.

"This was not only Y/N's transgression, it was mine as well. Will they be punished severely?"

The Jedi Master says calmly, "That is not for me to decide, but for the Council to decide. I will go to Hangar 5B now, I expect you to follow me in five minutes at the latest, Y/N, I will personally escort you to the Council."

Once Shaak Ti has left the room, Fives says, "Okay, quick now, we need to find a shuttle and get out of here."

You shake your head.

"No Fives, I have to face the council and you are far too dutiful a soldier to turn your back on your brothers".

Fives looks at you pleadingly.

"But I don't want to be without you."

With a sigh, you lean your forehead against his and say softly, "My love will always be with you, at all times, no matter where you go"

"That's not enough, I want you by my side" he says in a brittle voice.

You kiss him long and heartfelt.

As your lips part, you say very softly,"Goodbye Fives, please take good care of yourself".

He looks after you, feeling helpless. This pain in his chest is brand new and very unpleasant. He whispers softly, "I love you…"

Rex

He is supposed to leave the planet soon, a new mission. You are hiding in one of the shuttles, the otherwise well-behaved Rex is making out wildly with you in the hold, his and your hands are everywhere at once, you are grabbing hungrily at each other.

You know you won't see him again for some time once he leaves the planet, all the more greedily you absorb his every touch.

"I wish you didn't have to go on this mission," you moan between wild kisses.

"So do I."

You don't have time for anything more than groping and kissing, but you wish it were different. But when you suddenly sense another presence near you, you pause, freeze.

"What's wrong, love?" he asks, kissing your face.

"We are not alone"

You hear someone clear their throat. Rex hastily lets go of you and jumps up, knocking his helmet off the crate next to him and it thumps loudly to the floor. You straighten up as well. Master Skywalker stands in the middle of the hold, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his look a mixture of reproachful and amused. You feel panic rising in you and can clearly sense that Rex feels the same way.

"Busy, Rex?"

"Uh, no, sir," the captain stammers a little beside himself.

Skywalker looks at you and sighs softly, "You two need to pay much closer attention."

Rex nods hastily, "Yes, sir. Will we."

"We're leaving in 20 minutes, Rex," Skywalker says, turning back around to leave the hold.

Puzzled, you look at Rex, "What was that?"

Rex laughs softly, "Well, I keep his secrets, he keeps mine."

"Oh," you say in surprise before Rex pulls you back close to him.

"Twenty minutes," he says thoughtfully "Can we make it?"

"There's only one way to find out," you say as you hastily begin to undress.

Rex chuckles, "That's my girl."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

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@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

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angrylesbianstereotype · 2 years

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What do you think about Skyler's and Walt's relationship dynamic when they first got together? It is so fascinating to me how much their dynamic must have changed over the years. Skyler got together with a significantly older man with a so far very promising career in chemistry. When they bought their house Walt is clearly still ambitious, driven and confident. Being the one in charge, leading and managing everything while her husband is checked out and going through life on autopilot is something I don't see a young Skyler wanting or expecting from her relationship with Walt.

Okay so!! I read a post awhile back that I cannot find now (pls somebody comment w the link if you find it) ab how the reason we all hate Walter’s gnarled old raisin guts even as we still find ourselves perfectly capable of and even eager to empathize with Gus and Mike, who have committed similarly heinous crimes, is bc Walter is a hypocrite who consistently screws over the people he claims to love and prioritize above all else, whereas Gus and Mike at least do right by the few people they allow into their inner circles. I think this is absolutely correct, but at least for me, this is only half of the reason I hate Walter. The other reason is that Walter doesn’t operate like a drug lord or a hitman in terms of evildoing, by which I mean; he operates like a domestic abuser or a sexual predator. Both Gus and Mike at points attribute their distaste for Walter to his “unprofessionalism” because while both of them attempt to at least maintain the facade of detachment largely preferred by the criminal underworld, Mike by (trying to) keep his personal life and the people in it completely removed from his criminal dealings, and Gus by channeling all of his capacity for emotion into a person who has already passed, Walter has no such reservations. The emotionality that supposedly divides him from the rest of the criminal underworld is ironically what makes him more evil than his mercenary counterparts, because it’s entirely a front and is in reality just him leeching off the emotions of others. Walter will not hesitate to get personal, Walter will not hesitate to bring up the existence of his family to a dangerous kingpin if it means he gets to play Manly Provider, Walter will not hesitate to groom a former student to be his personalized emotional punching bag. More so than any unfeeling pragmatist criminal, Walter has no scruples.

(Hasn’t even mentioned Skyler yet)

I don’t really have a problem with age gaps as a rule if it’s between two consenting adults over the age of 21 (my parents have an age gap similar to Skyler and Walt’s, they met when my mom was in her mid-twenties and my dad his mid-thirties) but if someone makes a habit of courting people younger than them, it’s typically indicative of a predatory nature, regardless of whether the younger parties are of age. Their partners don’t just happen to be younger than them; they are deliberately surrounding themselves with people they can exert power over more easily, people who are less established and will rely on them more financially and emotionally. And while I don’t think Skyler was ever as naïve as Jesse, I do think she took Walter’s persona of choice at face value much as Jesse did. Walter presented himself to her as an ambitious if mild-mannered chemistry genius (he was definitely more sure of himself as a young adult, but is implied to have always been something of a square), and if anything I think his nerdiness appealed to her because she equated academic intelligence with emotional intelligence, and in those early years, he gave her no reason not to. She thought he was a genius, but more importantly, she thought he was kind. She didn’t sign up for a complacent, preoccupied husband working on a teacher’s salary, just as she didn’t sign up for a son with cerebral palsy or being pregnant well into her late thirties. But at the beginning of the series, she’s stressed, yeah, but she’s also happy. And all the Reddit incels took that as her either relishing being the head of house or being indifferent to her husband’s unhappiness, but I think she attributed his passivity to contentment. Because her family was enough for her, Walt as he was was enough for her. And I think the real heartbreak stemmed not from realizing Walter wasn’t the man that she married; she knew that already. But from realizing that she and the life that they had built together weren’t enough for him.

#god this reply is loooong #long as the strap i used on your mom last night eyoo #anyways #breaking bad meta #brba #skyler white #mike ehrmantraut #gus fring #jesse pinkman #anti walter white #walter white hate blog #long post #abuse tw

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higuchisora · 20 days

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As mentioned before, I'll be sharing my top 10 anime characters that could solo my beloved sweet baby boy Binghe. This is both serious and not at all serious. Disclaimer: I love him, he's my good son, but he also needs some competition to keep his head nice and deflated. I'm sticking with 1 character per show to keep things fresh. Also "anime" is a... loosely used term here lmao. Also also, manga/LN spoilers ahead for some shows.

Without further ado (and in no particular order):

10. Uzumaki Naruto (and friends)

Definitely the most obvious so I'm putting it first. Honestly the Naruto cast could've had its own top 10, but rules are rules. That Talk No Jutsu is fucking lethal. If he couldn't TedTalk Binghe into a reluctant friendship, he'd rock his shit first and THEN befriend him. Without so much as a filler episode.

I'm of the mind that any Kage-level character could wipe the floor with my son, Mano y Mano. But even a solid jonin team would have some serious hands for him.

9. Saitama from One Punch Man

I haven't watched the full thing, but ending careers with 1 punch is literally his job, so I'm taking this one on good faith that he'd also be fast enough to catch Binghe at all.

8. Yoriichi from Demon Slayer

The only thing that could defeat this man was his own sadness. He'd clap TLJ and then come for Binghe without so much as a snack break.

7. Hua Cheng from TGCF (yes I know it's a donghua shut up)

Call me biased, I don't care. Hua Cheng would obliterate this man without even thinking about it. He'd laugh, too, because he's an asshole. And then go home to bang Xie Lian.

6. Rimuru from That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime

I don't like this man or this show. But no one can tell me he wouldn't just. Eat Binghe. Like full vore, as is canon of his abilities. He's done it with physically larger targets and succeeded, he could do it for some pretty boy. Binghe wouldn't even be the first demon king he's fought.

5. Aang from The Last Airbender

I SAID WHAT I SAID. Specifically in his Avatar State, I firmly believe he'd clap Binghe if led to believe it was absolutely necessary. Like the literal world ending. He exorcised a man when he was 12, I think Aang at his peak could handle an emo boy in need of an exorcism.

4. Saiki Kusuo from the Disastrous Life of Saiki K.

He'd dust Binghe out of existence before homie even knew what hit him. Argue with the wall.

3. Yumiella Dolkness from Villainess Level 99

I don't even really like her, but considering she's taken on a demon king of her own before, and is capable of making black holes big enough to swallow cities without breaking a sweat, she'll at least be a worthy opponent.

2. Kumoko/D from So I'm a Spider, So What?

Literally a god. The world-ending kind, and that's when she's being chill about it. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if she ended up being in control of the System tormenting poor SQQ and SQH. She's not as advanced in the anime, but in the light novel ending a world is literally light work. She's done it before and she'll do it again.

1. Mash Burnedead from Mashle

I haven't even caught up 100% with this show but I don't care. It doesn't even matter that Mash can't do magic. Actually, it's precisely BECAUSE he can't do magic that I firmly believe he deserves a place on this list because that just means this human dude is just Built Different. Binghe would throw a bunch of spiritual/demonic energy attacks at him and Mash would just bitch slap it out of the way. And then bitch slap Binghe. Worst part is that he wouldn't even realize they're fighting for real, which would permanently ruin Binghe's self esteem, IMO.

Honorable mentions:

Gabimaru from Hell's Paradise

I don't think he COULDN'T take Binghe on, just that it's unlikely he'd survive, honestly. Cultivation is real in their world kinda, and from what I've watched he's not yet capable of taking one on by himself 100%. But he's tenacious and skilled, so he'd at least get a few good ones in before Binghe smokes him. With a good crew and a battle plan, he'd be able to lock an average Binghe under a mountain.

Sailor Moon

The only reason she isn't on top 10 is because I'm not confident in her ability to take hits. She's great at dishing them out, but in the event Binghe manages to get a good whack in, I feel like it'll be over for her. I don't think she's fast enough to reliably dodge the whole time either. Plus, I barely remember the OG show, so it's kind of odd to be comparing her to stuff like Naruto, which I know well.

Hina from Hinamatsuri

Just offer a lifetime supply of red caviar and Binghe's a dead man. That being said, I don't think she'd walk away unscathed. This battle would mostly be dictated by how it starts. If she has the element of surprise, he's dead. If Binghe is suitably enraged (say, Xin Mo possession style), Hina's a goner. Hence she isn't strong enough to be able to beat him soundly in all scenarios.

Kaneki from Tokyo Ghoul

He's pretty cool. Also likes to eat flesh. I don't think he's as fast at it as Rimuru is, but then again I also gave up watching after the first season. Gets an honorable mention because he might actually be stronger than I think.

Goku

He's fucking Goku. I just have never watched this show so I didn't feel comfortable ranking him.

Kibutsuji Muzan + Upper moons from Demon Slayer

Any of them would be a solid threat. However, considering they get their asses handed to them by a bunch of human high schoolers and fold at the tiniest ray of sunlight, I figure the moons would be somewhat of a miniboss vs final boss in terms of power scaling.

Muzan probably would've gotten a place on the list if not for Yoriichi. Also, as said, anyone that gets clapped by a bunch of high schoolers in their own home gets a permanent L. Shine a lamp on him and it's over for bro.

Hashiras from Demon Slayer

Not a single one of them can 1v1 any upper moons. That being said, they still managed to body all of them. They go down with them though, so I'd say it would take all of the hashiras (maybe including pre-canon ones) to take down the average Binghe. And they'd all die doing it.

Hero of Time/Hero of the Wilds Link from Legend of Zelda

Is this an anime? No. Do I care? Not really. Fighting opponents wildly out of his league but ultimately winning anyway is literally his canon lore. All Link needs is a slingshot and an ocarina and he'll fight the fucking moon. He's no slouch in recent games either; a beef bowl and a stick is all it takes for him to take on the immortal demon king possessing the castle in nothing but his goddamn boxers.

This was my list!!! Very long, but a lot of fun. Let me know what your own lists are, I'm curious lol.

If I've not mentioned a show, it's probably because I've never watched it lol.

#svsss #luo binghe #heaven official's blessing #naruto #demon slayer #one punch man #mashle #light novel spoilers #saiki k #villainess level 99 #atla #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #kumoko

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sunlightbender · 9 months

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A Somewhat Scathing Barbie Review (from a Barbie lover)

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE BARBIE MOVIE

Okay, okay, PLEASE don’t skin me alive for saying this, but I thought the Barbie movie was mid at best. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t terrible, but I’ve been seeing people all over the internet praise it as the greatest cinematic masterpiece of our generation and it’s just... not.

As a positive opening, here’s what I liked:

Set design

Costuming

Acting

(Controversially) The narrator

The music

It’s obviously a gorgeous movie. It’s got so many references to actual Barbie sets and outfits, and as a Barbie fan it’s so much fun to see real people in replicas of Barbie clothes. It’s also super funny, and the music is really enjoyable. With so many positives, it might seem odd that this is titled as a scathing review, but for me, the most important factor in any movie is the story, and well... Barbie’s kind of sucks.

Look, I don’t want to ruin anyone’s perspective on a movie they enjoyed so I’d suggest stopping here if you really liked it.

The storyline was so heavily lacking. My first biggest qualm: this movie isn’t feminist, it’s sexist, dressed up in feminist frills. Disclaimer: I’m a feminist, hardcore, my family teases me about it all the time. From the very opening of the movie, where they mention that the Barbies see themselves as having made a feminist impact in the world, implying that Barbie as a brand HASN’T done that... eugh. Sasha’s opinion on Barbie is very heavily hinted to be the ‘correct’ one, where Barbie hasn’t positively impacted real women. Gloria’s suggestion at the end, to make an ‘ordinary’ Barbie backs this up - the energy of “We need a realistic Barbie, not the silly, pretty, blonde bimbos of the past”, if you will.

Let me state this: Barbie is, and has always been, a feminist. Barbie has represented strong women for ages. Barbie, in her pink and glittery glory, has had hundreds of careers, dozens of friends, is loved by all, lives life on her own terms, and has Ken as an accessory. She’s gorgeous and fun and smart and powerful and capable. She has ALWAYS been feminist, and any girl who grew up with Barbies will tell you that playing with them has only helped them imagine “what if I could be-”, in the best possible way. As a woman in STEM, I remember playing with Barbies as a kid, and knowing that I could really do anything, because Barbie could too.

To build onto this, Gloria’s suggestion that an ‘ordinary’ Barbie be made is ridiculous - I’ve always viewed most Barbies as ‘normal’ people! Are they incredible? Of course! But they’re normal people - that’s the whole POINT of Barbie - she can be anything, she can do anything, she’s incredible because women as a whole can be anything, do anything, and are incredible. To have an ‘ordinary’ Barbie that women can relate to is to imply that ordinary women aren’t capable of being vets, engineers, lawyers, environmentalists, businesswomen, etc. It’s almost as if the movie struggles to differentiate Barbie, the brand, from Barbie, the character. Can any one person have 200+ jobs? No, of course not, but Barbie, the character, has NOT done all of those - it’s just all different fields that Barbie could be capable of - because Barbie, the brand, represents everything that women as a whole can accomplish.

Next, the Kens. Oh god, the Kens. I LOVED the start of the movie. Himbo, accessory Ken is incredible. I love him. I finally understood why straight women loved Ryan Gosling. Then he became a misogynist. Ken’s whole arc is so rushed and muddled. Ken was miserable and bitter even before things started going wrong. In the perfect Barbieland, why should Ken be bitter? It doesn’t make logical sense - before Barbieland was falling apart, you’d think the Kens would be okay with their position in the world. And if not, then is the implication that Barbieland was never perfect? That didn’t come across to me. Let’s be frank, in a perfect Barbieland, there’d either be perfect equality where nobody was upset, or everyone would be 100% okay with the inequality in the world.

He was so obscenely sexist that the funny movie became genuinely uncomfortable to watch, and for the conclusion to be for Barbie to APOLOGIZE to him despite him stealing her house and brainwashing the country...????? And then the main issue was never even resolved - the hardcore matriarchy continues to exist - just everyone saying “I am Ken” is not going to prevent another Ken uprising, and if Barbieland is perfect, I reiterate once more, KENS DESERVE TO BE TREATED FAIRLY TOO. Also, it seems a little anti-feminist to make the Barbie movie essentially a Ken movie with Barbie crying in the back. The plot was SO Ken-heavy that it didn’t feel like a Barbie movie at all. A really feminist movie would’ve made Ken a background, barely-important character, but he runs the show.

I won’t go on and on, but it’s really uncomfortable. Including the forced almost-kiss.

Lastly, my big qualm is that Barbie becomes a human. Come on, is humanity not over ourselves already? Why do we make everyone in movies obsessed with us? It’s not enough that aliens should want to live on earth, or that princesses should dream to be common, or that robots wish they were human, Barbie herself has to long to dress in beige and be called Barbara. It was implied that the feminist out here is that Barbie has to escape Barbieland, to become her own person, but Barbie, the idea, has already been feminist! It was important for her to be Barbie, the idea, and there’s no sense to why she should want to be human. Why can’t she stay a perfect stereotypical Barbie, another cog in the perfect, plastic Barbieland machine? What’s wrong with that?

Then, all the dropped plotlines:

Gloria and Sasha’s relationship

The CEO

Ken’s still miserable

Barbie’s impact on the women of the world

Brainwashing apparently is fixed by one cheesy speech?

I think it’s a huge case of target audience. I only realized today, three days after the early screening day when I watched it, that it was not made for Barbie fans like me, who watched every piece of Barbie media, who’ve loved the brand for years. It’s made for people who played with the dolls in the 90s, relegated it as “for kids” and were waiting for a socially acceptable excuse to watch a pink movie again.

Was it a terrible movie? No, I suppose not, but frankly, the movie was muddled, corny, bland, and everything that the movie tried to do has been done better by Barbie’s animated movies and show. If you haven’t watched them, I’d suggest starting with Big City, Big Dreams. It’s a short, easy watch about being competitive without being toxic. The Dreamhouse Adventures series also has a lot of great messages. And then, my personal favorite, the Princess and the Pauper, has an awesome message about women supporting women. Now the men in THAT movie really ARE side characters.

One final comment: Barbie doesn’t give kids eating disorders. Adults telling kids they should look like Barbie gives kids eating disorders. And if you’re blaming Barbie for that, well, please also look at Disney, which pretty exclusively has their fat characters be villains, or toxic teen movies from the early 2000s which called people at size 2s fat. Take it from a woman who’s had multiple eating disorders.

What a rant, huh? And that’s WITHOUT getting into the lack of queer rep in a movie that marketed itself as being very camp - Hari Nef aside (she was wonderful!). If you enjoyed the movie, please don’t let me ruin it. It was definitely a lot of fun, but for me, the story really broke the movie. I’ll give it a 6/10 for enjoyability, and a 4/10 for objective quality.

#barbie spoilers #barbie movie spoilers #barbie review #barbie movie review #barbie

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