Teenage Feysand Pt. 4

Part 1               Part 2               Part 3

Warning: This chapter has references to sexual abuse

A lot of Angst in this. Don’t shoot me. Also, parallels to the actual books in this part, so all rights to Sarah J. Maas.


I was awoken by the sound of footsteps on stone. I sat up and slumped back against the wall behind me. The rigid stone cut into my back, but the pain was a welcome feeling to the dread that had washed over me. I had been down in this cell for what felt like days.

No one spoke to me. No one brought me food or water. I sat alone and stared at the walls around me, drowning in my own thoughts. That was when the flashbacks started hitting me:

I was in a different cell, the walls covered in my blood from my most recent punishment. The King of Hybern was smiling down at my broken form with wicked delight. I looked up at him with a promise of death in my eyes. I knew when I had chosen to take my sisters’ place as his prisoner that it would be hell. Hell was only the beginning of what I was experiencing. I was beaten daily to the point when death was ready to take me away, but he would always heal my wounds and bring me back. This day, I had refused to do my daily chore of cleaning his chambers, and he had beaten me with a large staff until every rib was cracked, and I blacked out due to the pain.

“Such a naughty little human. Tell me, Feyre, if you do not like to make my bed, why don’t you do me the honor of lying in it?” the king whispered as he shook me awake with his booted foot. The pain was so severe that I vomited all over his shoes. He only laughed darkly, “I won’t have you if you are in this state. Do feel better, and remember that you can stop this at any time by agreeing to my offer.” With that, he walked out of my cell, and I was once again left to lay on my small pallet of clothing scraps.

I would never accept his offer as long as I was still breathing. He wanted to attempt to turn me into High Fae by using an extraction spell to steal power from the High Lords across the sea in Prythian. The very thought of becoming anything like those awful creatures made me want to end my suffering by my own hand.

As I lay down that night, I thought of the sky. Not the vast blue of the day. That had always reminded me of the time my family worked in the fields as slaves to those beasts. No, I thought of the night sky, with stars as far as I could see. I cried myself to sleep as I did every night since I was brought to that forsaken castle, and prayed that I’d one day get to see the night sky again.

I was pulled from the memory by the sound of the iron door of my cell being unlocked. I sat up from where I had slumped against the wall and craned my neck to see who was coming through that door. My heart jumped as I saw a head of black hair come into the room, but my face fell when I realized it was only one of the guards.

“The High Lord would like to see you now for questioning,” the young male said as he made to help me up. I almost balked at the kindness, but allowed him to pull me up. My legs barked in pain at the effort it took to walk after hours in a sitting position. I straightened my back despite the protest from my aching muscles and held my head high with pride. The guard led me down a dark corridor to a stone staircase. When he motioned for me to go first, I must have looked shocked because he simply said, “You may be a prisoner, Miss, but you’re still a woman, and I will always allow a woman to go first. It is common courtesy.” I gave him a tight smile that he took as gratitude for his chivalry, and we began our trek up the long staircase. Three hundred stairs up, he motioned for me to veer off down another hall to the right of the landing. I let him lead this time, calculating how much of a threat he may really pose if I decided to make my escape. He seemed to know what I was thinking because his hand never left the weapon at his side. After what seemed like a lifetime of walking, he finally stopped at a thick wooden door.

He opened it a moment later and motioned for me to go inside. I walked into the room cautiously and felt my heart drop when I looked around the room. I was not afraid of the High Lord of the Night Court perched at the head of the long obsidian table that took up most of the room. No, what made my stomach turn and bile rise in my throat was the Hybern commander that was sitting next to him.


Never in my life had I been so…furious with anyone. When my father had sent Feyre away, my first instinct was to shove him as hard as I could. I let the leash on my power slip as I shoved him, and the entire mountain of which the camp sat upon shook. Fear, genuine fear, flashed in my father’s eyes as he was slammed back into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. He winnowed a second later before I could land another blow. Coward, I thought as I beheld the wall where he’d just been. There, inside the plaster, was a perfect imprint of my father’s body.

A dark smile ghosted my lips at the damage, but it quickly faded as I realized the events that had just taken place.

My mother stood at the entrance to our dining area with her arms wrapped around her delicate body. I walked to where she was standing and took her into my arms, squeezing so hard I’m sure it hurt, but she was the only thing keeping me from exploding. She squeezed me just as hard and rubbed my back.

“I will forever be grateful for all your father has given me since we mated, but I will never forgive him for the decisions he is choosing to make,” my mother whispered into my chest. I nodded my agreement and stroked her hair.

“We’re going to get her back, Mom, and you can be the one to beat Father’s ass for this,” I replied with a breathy, humorless laugh. Her returning laugh mirrored mine as she looked up and stroked my cheek.

“I do not wish to see your father ever hurt, but I cannot wait to see what an amazing ruler you will become. My darling, Rhys,” she said and then she was walking out onto the porch of our tiny house.

“Cassian! Azriel! I know you’re circling above this house. Get down here this instant. There is no time for sulking when your brother’s…girlfriend—crush? — is trapped in that godsforsaken place,” my mother shouted into the night. My brothers swooped down from where they indeed had been flying in circles over the house, waiting for my father’s departure. Cassian looked like he was ready for bloodshed, and Azriel’s arms were already cloaked in shadows. I’m sure I looked as distraught as I felt because Cassian cringed when his eyes fell to my face.

“Dude, I want her back too because, let’s be honest, she’s damn good to look at, but I didn’t realize you were whipped already,” he said as Azriel quickly smacked the back of his head.

“That is not helpful at all, Cassian, and as I recall, Rhys was the only one who held you while you cried when your favorite stuffed animal got its head ripped off,” Az said.

Cassian looked at Azriel incredulously and rubbed the back of his head. “HE was the one who ripped Mr. Twinkle’s head off!”

My mother looked between the three of us and shook her head as if she was rethinking why she ever had children, much less took in two more. We all smiled at her innocently.

“So here is the plan,” she said slowly to get every point across, “We are winnowing to the Hewn City, which is where Rhysand’s father has Feyre. Cassian, Az, you two are to get Rhysand into the dungeon without anyone triggering the alarm. I will distract my mate while you get Feyre out. She probably won’t be in the greatest of shape, but she will have to at least stand. Understand what we must do?”

We nodded our agreement, and I grabbed Cassian and Az as we disappeared into stars and dust. 


My old tormentor, the one who beat me all those times for the king, was seated next to Rhysand’s father, talking as if they were old friends. Amarantha turned to me when Rhysand’s father addressed my presence and flashed me her infamous blood red smile. A wave of nausea hit me as I remembered those teeth grazing my breasts. The memories must have flashed in her mind too because her gaze drifted down my body lazily.

I had been starving then, so she was taking in the new, full curves of my well-fed body. Her black eyes seemed to light up as they drank in the new hard planes of my stomach. Rhysand’s father watched our interaction with cool amusement.

“I wonder what my son would say if he found out that you once preferred females,” he said amusedly. I did not let the disgust show on my face.

“I did not prefer females. I did not have a choice in the matter at all”

Amarantha straightened at that and rolled her eyes. “Come on Fay-ruh,” she said, drawing out my name as if it were a plea coming from her lips, “We had fun together. Don’t you remember the way I made you beg?”

I did remember. I also remembered that whenever I refused to pleasure her, I would find myself tied to a table and tortured, both sexually and just physical pain, until I was bedridden for days. I distinctly remember screaming when I relieved myself because of how sore and raw I was. I shuddered then, and she took that as a sign that I was getting turned on. She stood and made to come circle me like a lion circling wounded prey. I whimpered when she fisted her hands into my hair and leaned to whisper in my ear.

“Remember when I would grab you like this and fuck you?” she hissed and snatched my head back. I cried out in pain as tears stung my eyes. The High Lord of the Night Court made a tsk tsk noise, and Amarantha reluctantly let go and sat down again.

“What do you want from me?” I asked, wiping the tears that escaped down my cheeks. Rhysand’s father looked bored as he replied, “I merely want to know what power roils in your veins as we speak. Since you were Made, and you possess some of Beron’s gifts, I am curious as to who else’s powers that you stole.”

“I stole nothing. These powers were given to me, and it was not my choice,” I said and I cursed myself as my voice wavered. Amarantha purred at the quiver in my voice and licked her lips. I cringed and focused my attention anywhere but on that sadist. Rhysand’s father merely snapped his fingers, and another guard came in and escorted me out. He was not courteous like the last guard, and he shoved me down the hall and into what appeared to be a giant throne room.

“Kneel, bitch,” the guard hissed and kicked the back of my knee with such force that I fell to the ground. Black splintered in my vision as I tried and failed to lift myself up. Amarantha’s laugh drifted to me from the throne she now sat upon. Rhysand’s father looked at me as if I were a fly that had been circling too long and was about to be swatted.

Just then, someone pulled me up onto my knees and slapped my face. The stinging in my cheek was nothing compared to the pain I was feeling in my chest. My heart, my still-human heart, was breaking at the hands of the father of the boy that I…

I couldn’t bring myself to even think those words now because I would never get the chance to say them. I just bowed my head and accepted the blows as they came.


We winnowed into a long corridor that led to the stairwell that would take us down into the dungeons. Cas and Az slipped off into the shadows to despose of any guards that may come looking. I began walking down the stairs two at a time. I reached out with my power to see if I could slip into Feyre’s mind. I was so entranced that I didn’t see the guard to my left until I received a blow to the head. I whirled and kicked out, bringing the guard to his knees. I held his mind and rendered him unconscious. Before I could alert Cassian and Az, I was hit from behind again. Consciousness slipped from me as I heard the guard laugh.

I awoke to a female scream piercing the air. I groaned as I sat up and rubbed the back of my head where a lump was surely forming. I looked around to see that I was in the throne room of the Hewn City, and I was not alone. My mother was staring at the floor and trying to escape the grip my father had on the back of her dress. Cassian and Azriel were restrained by a group of guards in the corner of the room. I felt a sense of pride at the bruises on the guards, the evidence of my brothers’ struggle to be held. A woman with deep auburn hair and obsidian eyes was seated on my father’s throne. But all of this slipped away as my eyes fell to the beautiful body of a girl crumbled on the ground.

“Feyre!” I shouted as I tried to crawl towards her. I was met with a shield of hard air. I slammed my power against it, but the wall wouldn’t budge.

“Rhys,” Feyre groaned and turned her bloodied face towards my voice. I could see the bruises forming on her cheeks and counted how many there were. That was how many hours I was going to take killing everyone that had touched her.

The auburn-haired woman stood from the throne then and walked to where Feyre lay. Slowly, so slowly, she pressed her heeled foot into Feyre’s side. Feyre screamed in agony, and I vomited all over the floor.

“Please, leave her alone. Please,” I begged. The woman turned to me then and cold amusement flashed across her face.

“I guess this is the one you left me for, Feyre,” she said in a cheery voice, “I wonder how good he’d feel to play with. Shall we see?” She started making her way towards me.

Even broken and bleeding, Feyre stood and shoved the woman away from me. “Amarantha, if you so much as lay a finger on him, I will kill you.”

The woman, Amarantha, laughed, and I watched in horror as she summoned a knife from somewhere and shoved it through Feyre’s chest.

I screamed. Not because the girl I was in love with fell to the floor, but because I felt the knife as if she had stabbed me instead. The wall of air shattered as Feyre hit the ground, and I crawled to her, a puddle of blood already pooling below her.

“No, no, please no,” I whispered as I pulled Feyre into my lap, “Hey, Fey, look at me. Don’t stop looking at me, okay? Listen to my voice.”

She nodded and kept her gray eyes locked with mine. I could see it then, like a black chain between me and Feyre, that now shined like brilliant gold.

“Mates…” she whispered as the realization clanged through her. Despite the situation, I smiled down at her and brushed a piece of hair from her face, “Mates,” I whispered back.

Her face was pale, so so pale, but she smiled back at me. My father’s gasp filled the room as he sensed the bond between Feyre and I. As he realized he had allowed his son’s mate to be killed in his court. I looked at him then with simmering rage etched into my features.

Amarantha was still holding the knife when Feyre whispered, “I love you, Rhysand,” and let her eyes close.

“No…Feyre! Feyre! Wake up. Please baby wake up,” I begged as tears fell down my face. I snarled when Amarantha took a step towards us and instantly misted her into a blast of blood. My mother’s scream pierced the air as Feyre’s body slumped against my chest.

My father, utterly horrified, stepped down off the dais and over to where I sat cradling my dying mate in my arms.

“Son, I had no idea. I thought that she was some sort of spy. I didn’t want to risk it with the coming war with Hybern. Amarantha had contacted me before and told me of Feyre’s past dealings with Hybern. I had no idea she was your mate. I swear it,” he said. He looked back to where my mother was sobbing on the floor, but she did not meet his gaze. A sob broke from my lips as I stroked Feyre’s hair.

“Just bring her back,” I said as I looked down at her face. He looked from me to Feyre and then back to me. Darkness flared from his hand as he laid it against Feyre’s bleeding chest. I reached out for her mind and felt a sliver of life still there. I stroked the walls of her mind gently with my power, trying to coax her to come back to me.

I grabbed that chain between us and snatched it.

I felt her draw in a breath, and relief clanged through me as she opened her gray eyes to glance up at me.

“So, does this make us even for me leaving you on that bank?” she said and groaned as she tried to sit up but failed. A broken laugh escaped my lips as I crashed my mouth to hers.

She kissed me back just as hard until she winced in pain. I leaned down and rested my ear against her chest. We sat like that, with her in my lap and my head against her chest listening to her heart beat, for hours. My father left the throne room after begging my mother to forgive him, to which she told him to go to hell. She came over to where we were clinging to each other and told us to go get some sleep while they sorted this mess out.

I flew Feyre to our moonstone palace at the top of the mountain and laid her feet on the floor of the large bathroom.

I grabbed a wash cloth and some soap and handed it to her. She cleaned her face and neck as best she could. I gave her my shirt so she could change out of her ripped clothes. When she made her way out of the bathroom, I picked her up and laid her onto the bed gently.

She reached out for me when I turned to leave, so I crawled into the bed next to her, wrapping her as tightly in my arms as she could stand it with her injuries.

“You never said it back,” she whispered sleepily.

“What?” I asked softly.

She leaned up slightly and winced with the weight of propping herself up, “I told you I loved you, and you didn’t say it back.”

I looked at her incredulously, “Did you miss the part where I begged my father to bring you back to me? I thought that was ‘I love you’ enough,”.

She rolled her eyes and replied, “Just say it. Unless it’s not true.”

I shook my head but pulled her tighter to my chest.

“Feyre, you are a pain in my ass. You are the biggest tease I have ever met. You make me want to choke you daily, and fuck you until neither of us can walk,” I said as her eyes widened, “But, I am irrevocably in love with you. I think I have been since that day you dismissed me like I wasn’t a future high lord. You make me feel normal. I love you, Fey. I felt it today when you almost died, and it felt like my entire world had been ripped from me. Don’t do that ever again.”

She smiled and nuzzled deeper into my chest, “I love you too, Rhys. I guess I’ll try not to die again.”

When I felt Feyre’s breathing even out, I finally allowed sleep to take me.

In Which You Rescue Rocket (Guardians of the Galaxy Fluff)

As requested by anon: can you do a fluff of rocket raccoon please

This turned out to be a tricky prompt…I tried my hardest, I swear! Also credit goes to the gif maker.

The man you called your father was twisted in the worst of ways. Emotion was a foreign concept to him, and you were pretty sure that he was physically born without a heart. It was the only explanation for the things he did and the way he so off-handedly justified himself by saying that it was all “for science”. But you knew better. You knew that experimenting with the actual lives of others couldn’t possibly benefit any sort of legitimate research question or theory. Everything he did, he did out of selfish curiosity.

You’d lost count of the amount of poor souls that had come through his lab. Most of them started as animals. Cute, innocent animals that you’d learned to stop growing attached to, as they never lasted past one or two of his experiments. At least until he came along.

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Movie Review: Moonlight (2016) 

   In the Oscar Nominated film, we are taken through a three part story of Chiron, a young boy growing up in Miami.  This film beautifully captures the harsh reality of growing up in the 1980s as a minority in the United States.  Chiron’s story is filled with struggles centered around his family, financial security, and sexuality.  Be warned, though, tissues are essential when watching (spoilers to follow). 

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you know, I just got done with the Arya chapter where Lord Tywin leaves Harrenhal and I just realized that while in the show it was nice to see Charles Dance and Maisie act off each other and we got some insight into Tywin’s character, that arc really did a disservice to Arya’s character.

Since she was his cupbearer and relatively safe through her Harrenhal days, her story is made to seem like her journey through the Riverlands wasn’t that bad or that she didn’t suffer as much as other characters. Whereas in the books, she’s beaten daily, threatened with rape by Rorge, she’s forced to do hard physical labor dawn to night as a slave…

It’s frustating to realize new ways in with D&D disrespected her character arc and journey

The Torture Murder of Sylvia Likens

In early 1965 a struggling housewife named Gertrude Baniszewski started advertising her home as a sort of flophouse for inconvenient children, where parents would pay her to look after their children while they searched for work. Baniszewski soon took in the oldest daughters of two circus workers, Sylvia and Jenny Likens, and agreed to accept $20 a week for their upkeep. It was a cramped situation between the family and the two guests, and Baniszewski began taking her anger out primarily on 16 -year-old Sylvia. Rumors spread at school that Sylvia stole food out of rubbish bins and had a boyfriend, and as punishment Baniszewski starved the girl, whipped her, slapped her around the face. Her sister Jenny was just twelve, and felt too powerless to act. Their caretaker’s rage peaked when their parents were late with the $20 payment; Baniszewski invited several neighborhood children over and encouraged them to mistreat Sylvia; and so her torture really began.

Sylvia was tied up in the basement for days on end, accused of imaginary slights and punished near continuously. She was beaten daily, often barefisted, and lit cigarettes were stubbed out on her body. Sylvia had to beg for food and was forced to soil the narrow bit of concrete she was confined to, and the kids Baniszewski befriended took turns stripping her naked and whipping her, yanking out tufts of her hair, burning her.

The autopsy of her body later revealed over two dozen impact injuries and Sylvia’s genital reason in particular was a center of massive trauma. She was also covered in a number of small cuts, burns, and rope burn injuries, and was severely malnourished. But the injury thst caught investigators eyes the most was the awful message scrawled childishly on the teenagers stomach in red welts: I’M A PROSTITUTE AND I LOVE IT!

Neighbors last heard Sylvia banging on the basement wall with a shovel, and then she seemed to disappear. Sylvia was, in fact, enduring her final round of torture at the hands of the sadistic housewife and her group of morally vapid children. As punishment for wetting herself earlier in the day, Sylvia was made to keep standing while her head was repeatedly punched into a wall. She was then flipped on the concrete while a boy heated a needle to write the grim exclamation on the poor girls abdomen. Sylvia was thrown on a bed to sleep, while her foster mother went upstairs and watched television.

The next day, Sylvia was delirious due to dehydration and internal bleeding. She could not stand or walk and lapsed in and out of consciousness. Her sister Jenny tried to sneak food to her, but it was too late; Sylvia Likens was dead, from a combination of malnutrition and internal injuries.

Baniszewski made the children swear to silence, but police visited the house to discuss Sylvia’s absence from school and were tipped off by Jenny as to what happened. Sylvia’s battered corpse was discovered in a bedroom, and it was immediately obvious she was the victim of horrendous abuse. The crime scene examiner called it the worst case of abuse he had ever seen in the state of Indiana. Baniszewski, her daughter, and several local children were arrested and put on trial. The unsmiling housewife was sentenced to life, her daughter to a maximum of ten years, the her accomplices recieved various reduced sentences when they gave evidence.

anonymous asked:

I think it's interesting how bum's motivation for killing jieun was about that girl from his past, and NOT the whole "this ho fucked my main bitch Sangwoo" thing. Like I thought the reason he'd kill jieun would be because of jealousy, but it was actually because of that girl from his school I guess.

For me, I am absolutely glad that Bum didn’t kill her out of jealousy. It wouldn’t have made any sense and would just fuck his character development sideways. 

Bum is not the type to suddenly lash out and do something extreme like Sangwoo. He suffers first, and then snap. By that, I mean when hurt or abused, Bum kept it down for a pretty long time until he can’t control himself anymore. He tried to poison Sangwoo, but only after days of being held captive and beaten daily - the most extreme situation he’s ever been through. With the girl from his school, he went through several ignored letters and conversation attempts before finally snapping and try to verbally attack the girl (he doesn’t attempt to physically harm her). And from the recent chapters, even with the constant verbal, physical and sexual abuse from the uncle, Bum doesn’t retaliate and instead chose to cut himself as a way of escaping reality.

This brings me to another point: Bum doesn’t become aggressive to get what he wants, he does it as a defense mechanism. That’s where he differs from Sangwoo, who made Bum indirectly kill a guy as an experiment. So yeah, it made a lot of sense that he killed Jieun as an act of retaliation to the emotional abuse that school girl put him through, instead of killing her just to assert his possession of Sangwoo (who he doesn’t even dare to ‘own’ haha).

Sangwoo understands this and that’s why he’s doing the thing he does these days. He wants to teach Bum, first of all, how to effectively retaliate against his abusers (by killing), as Bum has always been too scared to do anything against them. That means teaching Bum to kill for himself, and later on become confident enough to control both his and his victim’s fate, instead of being a passive weakling. 

So while I’m happy that Bum didn’t kill Jieun out of blind jealousy, I think Sangwoo is slowly making him become that kind of person.

The Rain (2)

Warning: language, child abuse, run away

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem! child! reader

Summary: Bucky finds a child in the rain. After noticing a few weird things about her he decides it’s best if she stays with him. Now they’re on the run.

Originally posted by o-blivia

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anonymous asked:

in-universe prompt: ninja b/rian has been having a rough time (you can decide why) so he tries to meditate to get his mind off the bad stuff but it keeps coming back to him, ending up with him getting semi flashbacks to being berated at the ninja clan for not being able to hold his emotions in check. As he's starting to dissociate in a panic, danny just happens to walk in on him and manages to calm him down and convince him that he's awesome just the way he is <3 - love, @sin-grumps

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Friendship Breakup

**Super duper long venting post**

Thursday night I was sent rapid fire texts in response to a video I posted on Facebook. The video was on the issues of class and racism.

I’ve known that she is a conservative and supporter of Trump. However we had been able to stay off any political topics. Mainly by ignoring social media posts that don’t involve our kids, and not reaching out for playdates.

So this bombardment was completely out of left field. I did my very best to try and address some of the issues she brought up. But it’s rather difficult to stay calm when things like this are being said:

“Like do you understand that liberals are keeping racism alive and the spotlight?

Do you know that (husband) was physically abused growing up? No money, went to the military, came home to nobody? His parents aren’t even in the picture?

My father was beaten daily and he is WHITE. Parents divorced, worked at publix and put himself through college eating ramen. Noodles in the dark?

YOU are privileged my friend

You watch all these black NFL stars that make millions because of you and our country that makes that available?

I had to work since I was 15, pay for my own beauty school and didn’t even have 2 dollars in my wallet? I had a place to live so I’m fortunate about that. I’m so tired of this shit and so disappointed in liberals

But everyone wants to talk about black people, Mexicans, lgbtq, like the “minoritys” really have more privilege than anyone now frankly”

Well I did my best to try and respond:

“It seems like you’re talking about a few different things here. And I’m happy to separate them and discuss individually.

You have worked hard! I’d never deny that. And you deserve all that you have. A lovely house, son and husband.

I’d wish that for everyone. And I’d like to use my privilege (because you’re very right - I am privileged) to shed light on an uncomfortable subject that needs to be addressed. Wanting equality for all races / creeds,  shouldn’t be worrisome to you or other conservatives. The end goal is the same for all of us. To be happy and healthy and have the best life we can.”

Which lead to this:

“It shouldn’t be worrisome? What does even mean? You shove ideas down everyone’s throats and you are keeping it alive. What has changed sabrina? About equality? Gay marriage, black president, gender neutral, girls be can guys and vice versa, so why are you angry more than ever?

Because my beliefs sure offend you so how will there ever be "liberal utopia”?

And don’t be so condensing to me either

What do we need to do better?

Like seriously what during my day do I need to do better

Feel sorry for black and Mexican people? Hold doors open for them? Like what"

I was able to calm her down, and she even apologized. She also mentioned that she was upset that I haven’t reached out to her in a while. Well, I should have ended it right there, but I didn’t. She was being open and honest and I felt she deserved the same from me:

“I see what Trump does on a daily basis and I get angry at him and the people who voted for him. I felt like I needed to keep my distance until I could separate the two. And I’m having trouble doing so. That’s me being a hundred percent honest.

I see how you and your family live your life. Such kindness and joy and I can’t reconcile the two. I just don’t get it and it’s my fault for not getting past it.”

Here I’m thinking that I should offer a clean slate and start over. But nope.

“Wow you are a hypocrite. Good luck in life. I thought you were being nice but YOU are what’s wrong with the world. I’m so upset with you. And I’m done with you and your family. How dare you judge me

I have zero sympathy for liberal logic now. Wow unbelievable cannot believe I apologized. You are so fucking fake”

To which I responded:

“ I’m not being fake. Trying my hardest to be real. I love you as a person. But I hate your politics. I try to separate it, but it’s hard for me to do right now. I still want to help you whenever I can, and show that I care about you and your family. If you don’t want play dates anymore that is fine. I just figured there were other ways I could be there for you.

Offer still stands. Always.”

Then silence for about an hour until…

“You have literally segregated our family. So in school are you going to interview families and ask who they voted for?”

I did not understand what she was talking about and asked for clarification:

“What do you mean how you segregated us?

Look it up since your so smart

the action or state of setting someone or something apart from other people or things or being set apart.

You don’t want us around because we voted for trump and are conservative

That’s such complete bullshit and stop this "nice thing”

Your trying to portray

You are so hateful

And a bigot

I’m bringing this to the news so people know what people like to you do to conservatives when your trying to portray this love for everyone regardless of anything"

Do you know how much willpower it took for me not to write back * you’re ?! So I go on:

“Trump is a hard one to take though. He’s impulsive, disrespectful, a predator, manipulative, hateful. And I just don’t see how someone who is such a light can be for such a darkness. That’s why I haven’t reached out. I’m trying to let, the person I know you to be, trump how I feel about the politics (pun intended).

I felt like we were having a good discussion about this and wanted to continue being open. I never said I didn’t care for you. Still do. Still want to be there and help whenever/however I can.

I’m not sure what you mean by news, but feel free to send this conversation to whomever you’d like!”

And the grand finale:

“There you go with the niceness. You literally said you don’t want play dates because who we voted for and you hate our political views. You punished my child. Why do you think I would ever ask you for anything now? I keep saying it but you are the definition of a hypocrite. You think your so gracious and nice and yet you exclude us for because of our beliefs. You are not a good friend at all. Running an errand for for me doesn’t give you a gold metal. I’m really done with you can you leave our family alone? If you had a camera on you all day I’m sure the media would have a hay day. All these Celebrities with their rotten mouths and liberals I see on a daily basis in my chair shooting the f bomb in their vocabulary get on Trump for saying shit. Y'all are a bunch of hypocrites and good luck making friends in Monroe”

I mainly wanted to post this to vent. Part of me feels guilty but I’m not sure why? Did I go too far, should I not have said anything? 

Gift Fic: Jealous Touches


Rated: T


Jealous Touches

Requested by: @ozigirl16

Tango + Kiss

Post Tenrou (and Key to the Starry Heavens Arc)

Pre-Grand Magic Games Arc

Gajeel was sitting in a dance studio, glaring as he watched Levy and her dance partner for this mission.

How the fuck had he allowed Mira to convince him to join Levy on this shitty mission?

Protect her from any wandering hands, she said.

Well, Mira, that was all he was fuckin’ seein’!

Crimson eyes watched as Levy practiced the Tango with her partner, Lance something’. The sensual dance allowing his hands to run over her curves and to lift her, making intimate gestures that outside of this dance, he knew Levy would be flustered at.

How the fuck did he end up here, watching a woman he wished to touch so intimately get touched by another man? It was a cruel punishment for all his wrong doings.

Levy, she was clad in a white tank top, some black stretchy shorts, black leggings, and black jazz shoes. Overall, her outfit was simple, and Gajeel found himself more attracted to her in that moment.

He watched as her feet moved quickly with their client’s, how each moment was sensual. Her body dipping occasionally, her legs extending, showing her flexibility.

It felt wrong watching her with another man. He felt that it should be him touching her in such a manner, caressing her body.

He didn’t deserve to after what he did.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

"I keep telling them that we are not dating but ..." with matt murdock ?? Your blog is amazing 💙💙

Okay, so I thought the phrase was just “I keep telling them we’re not dating, but…” INSTEAD the full one is “I keep telling them we’re not dating, but they keep telling me friends don’t normally make out when drunk.”

I didn’t check. And wrote this instead. That I’ll post anyway. LMAO

“I keep telling them we’re not dating, but…” + Matt

The both of you fall into an easy pattern.

Being Matt’s friend since when you were both still at the orphanage, it’s not a big of a surprise that you still spend a lot of time together, sometimes even consisting of you spending entire weeks at his apartment.

The place feels just as a home to you as does your own tiny apartment, a few blocks away from Matt’s office. And you guess he feels the same about yours, as he’s often preferring to be at your place rather than his.

It’s one of his rough days when he climbs up at your window in the middle of the night, so tired and beaten that all he can do is just slump his body besides your on the bed, not even noticing your quiet murmurs to him.

The next morning goes as normal as if can when your best friend is a blind guy who fights criminals and gets beaten up daily.

You try to patch him up in the best way you can and even try to mask up a few purple marks with your make-up, thing which he just laughs at.

Shower, breakfast, work. An easy pattern.

When Matt’s got time enough, he makes sure to walk you to work himself, even if it’s the other way around from his office.

Your job it’s not as important or heroic as his, but you love it anyway. And you know he loves it too, even if he can’t really see it. Being a ballet teacher to smart little girls can be a blessing and a curse sometimes.

A blessing when it’s the end of a class and they come up running at you, squeezing the life out of you with tiny hugs and kisses and frantic promises of how they’re going to miss you.

And it’s a curse when–

“Miss (L/N), is he your boyfriend?” Cassie asks shyly once Matt leaves and you curse at yourself mentally because you know he can hear it and he is most likely listening (and laughing) as he walks down by the busy street.

“No, Cassie. He’s my best friend.” You chuckle lightly and reply as gently as you can, knowing that if you give a wrong answer, she’ll probably be mad with you during the whole morning.

Her lips close into a tiny pout, her arms crossing around her chest as she frowns slightly.

“But he kissed you!” She protests with a slam of feet against the floor that makes you hold back a laugh. “Don’t you only kiss boyfriends and girlfriends?”

“He kissed me on the cheek, Cass.” You explain with a grin, reaching out your hand to run through her brown, curly hair. “I kiss you on the cheek all the time, don’t I?”

To make your point, you kneel down next to her and press a wet kiss to her cheek, a giggle escaping her lips as you tickle her stomach slightly and she pulls back.

“Well, yes but you’re always with him!” She insists, her cheeks soon turning into a faint shade of red as you frown. “And he’s pretty!”

“He is, isn’t he?” You laugh and then tap your index finger on her nose as she rolls her eyes. “I’ll make sure to introduce you two next time.”

The look on her face is nearing adoration and you can’t help but laugh when she nods frantically, running to her friends rightly after to probably beam up about her meeting.

And you just hope that Matt already heard it.

But Matt doesn’t mention anything about the class in the days that follow.

Not on Friday or Saturday or Sunday and you’re almost thinking he didn’t really hear it by the next Monday. You don’t know if you should be happy or sad. You’d have to face Cassie’s wrath.

But then again when you’re ready to kiss his cheek goodbye, he pushes you into the studio, a smirk on his lips as he claims to have a very important meeting with one of your girls.

You laugh incredulously at him and brace yourself for whatever it’s coming from them.

Shame you can’t say you braced yourself for that.

“That’s Miss (L/N)’s boyfriend!” Cassie shrieks once she notices the both of you standing there and then a wave of giggles and questions follow, making you groan playfully and Matt laugh in both amusement and amazement.

“I’m so sorry, Matt.” You apologize between a sigh, a lazy smile curving your lips as you look at him slightly guilty. “I keep telling them we’re not dating but…”

Your voice trails as you shrug apologetic, Matt soon bumping into your shoulder with his.

“It’s okay.” He replies instantly, his lips turning into a smirk as he shrugs. “I kinda like it.”

“You like them, me or being my boyfriend?” You ask between a chuckle as your cheeks flush and Matt’s smirk just widen, probably feeling your embarrassment too.

You can’t say your braced yourself for that.

“All of it.”

I would miss months of school and then return with bright blond hair. Needless to say, there was bullying. I wasn’t beaten up daily, but there was name-calling and jealousy. You have to bear in mind that ‘Harry Potter’ wasn’t cool. I wasn’t part of the ‘Terminator’ franchise.


For Nuso, the idea and act of giving a gift meant the world to him. He had grown up as a poor boy, a fishmonger’s son, beaten daily for costing too much. He grew up hating wealth, but craving it desperately. He wanted to know what it was like to buy unnecessary things.

Though, he would consider this purchase very, very necessary.

As the conquest of Vizima became more and more thorough, more Nilfgaardian men that came to secure the Temerian countryside, the more merchants came as well. For a Velen-born boy like Nuso, there was little that could delight him more.

Admittedly a lot of it was for himself. He loved jewelry and velvet, both of which Nilfgaard excelled with. Today, however, was about his lover. It was a fine, fresh journal, bound by a soft leather that had been dyed a beautiful, royal blue. The book was closed with a simple, wrap around tie, full of crisp pages, waiting to be written on.

Keep reading

AU - Dystopian/Invasion/Sci-fi Mary x Matthew

Forty-four years after the invasion of Earth and the virtual enslavement of humankind, the Crawley family is forcibly separated and sent to the desolate cities around the world. Trapped in a grim metropolis, Mary struggles to survive alone, but her new world is a brutal place. Beaten almost daily by the police and half-dead from starvation, she is an inch away from losing her will to live – until she happens on a face she has not seen since she was small: Matthew Crawley.

At first unable to bring herself to trust another living thing, Mary eventually accepts Matthew’s offer to help her. Together, they manage to build some resemblance of a bearable life, finding food and shelter amongst crumbling conditions. The rumour that a resistance group is retaliating against their oppressors brings the hope that Earth might finally feel like home again.

But that hope is diminished when Matthew commits a crime that carries a fatal penalty. Forced to hide in a city-turned battleground, the fight to survive becomes even more desperate for the both of them. Cold-hearted police hunt them down, coming closer to catching them each day, and freedom seems to slip further away. At the same time, a bloody war is transpiring around them, one that will decide the fate of the entire human race – and Mary and Matthew will either fight their way to freedom or die trying.

Fuck you and your shitty children too - Part 2

It is said that bad things come in threes. The second third of my bad things came in right before I got cut. Another party decided to relocate themselves to the patio. Started easy, with one woman and three small children ranging in ages from who-the-fuck-cares to why-do-I-do-this-to-myself. Then three more people join them - another woman and two more small children. I get them all drinks. Then two more join them, another woman and another small child. And then, defying explanation, four more people join them. And again, it’s another woman with three small children. 

That’s 13 people (counting children as people because I’m feeling generous tonight) and out of those 13 only 4 were adults. 

Then, once I got them settled enough to get the rest of the drinks ordered, I was cut.


So fine, I’ll deal with it. I got the drinks out to the patio - where truly evil people like to sit - and find obnoxious children running amok everyfuckingwhere. Another table said something to these women and were promptly told to deal with it. 

They did. By leaving. Thanks for the loss of business, bitches.

Here’s a quick rundown of the damage and annoyance caused by these stupid women and their stupid children:

  • Enough broken crayons left behind to set up an interesting death trap
  • 2 shitty diapers left open on the patio - 1 on a table
  • 4 ruined potted plants (they tore all the leaves off)
  • 1 bitter server
  • 3 spilled drinks
  • 4 complaints about the dumpster smell, while sitting next to a shitty diaper
  • 3 children hit by the patio door opening
  • roughly 759,542 tantrums

Now, as one would expect, no two things could be ordered at the same time. Meaning I ran approximately 3 miles just trying to keep up with these women and their miscreant spawn. Part of the job, I get that.

But when it came time to pay is when things got really interesting. 

I go back out (nearly swiping a future asshole with the door) and the women begin waving at me frantically - as though I would go on the patio for any reason unless I had to and they hadn’t driven every other table away. 

Woman 1: I don’t have enough to cover my check.
Me: That’s unfortunate.
Woman 1: Well I have to get a ride home too…so…I’ll just give you what I can.
Me: I’ll get you a manager.
Woman 2: She’s only short about $8. 
Me: That’s nice. I’ll get you a manager.
Woman 3: Why do you need to get a manager?
Me: So he can tell you that you owe the entire bill, not just a portion.
Woman 1: You won’t let me go $8 short?
Me: …no.

Now don’t get me wrong. Under normal circumstances I’d probably have told her to just get me back next time she’s in, $8 isn’t really too huge a deal. But these weren’t normal circumstances. This table had been the reason I was longing for the sweet release of death for the past hour and a half. Not to mention I already guessed I’d get nothing for a tip from the rest of the harpies so I didn’t exactly have a lot of incentive to go the extra mile or be helpful.

I get the manager. They try:

  • Whining about the smell trying to get a discount
  • Try the damsel in distress routine (this manager doesn’t play for that.)
  • Threaten to never return
  • Promising to return later to pay the rest

Eventually they negotiated this check down to the amount printed on the slip. They all scraped together just enough to cover all the checks (no tip, as predicted) and left through the restaurant - being sure to tell the hostess that they’ll NEVER EVER BE BACK - because as we all know the hostess fucking owns the restaurant and if they lose the small change these douchebags spend (and don’t manage to weasel out of) they personally take a hit in pay.

I’d love to say they were all dragged off to an internment camp somewhere and beaten daily for the rest of their lives, but that’s not how it went.

They left the restaurant…and just stood there out front. At first they were chatting it up and letting the kids tear up shit in front of the restaurant. Then they started to argue. It ended with them all shrieking profanities at one another over Christ only knows what - all while their children roamed aimlessly and annoyed people coming into and leaving the restaurant. Then finally, they all got in their vehicles and left. …so much for needing a ride…

Meanwhile, I was cleaning a mess that had me seriously contemplate quitting instead of cleaning it. The flower petals the kids had destroyed wouldn’t sweep up. I had to almost individually pick those little bastards up off the concrete. I refused to touch the fucking diapers. To hell with that shit. The manager ended up doing it.

I really hope they stay good to their word and NEVER RETURN.

Wouldn’t that be the day?

In ten more years I see those children, at a wizened 12 years old, being the ones sending anonymous hate mail to me people on the internet who don’t share the same views as them. Then the circle of sphincter will be complete, and they’ll be just like their parents…and naturally 98% of them will use Tumblr to do it. -J