clownthemedlizardlambs

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Lottie, Misty and Travis all sat together at the end of the table so they can talk about how pretty Nat is

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i almost exploded (like a certain yellowjacket) when i saw that you like yellowjackets, wednesday and the addams family. it’s very nice to meet you. hi, hello 🦝

HAII HELLO?!

Not the Laura Lee joke you’re banned (I’m joking)!

It is very very nice to meet you!! That’s so cool that we have the same interests!! I also saw Awae in your intro and that was a hyperfixation of mine for a while

Anyways I love your content so much >:)) I can’t wait to see more

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(To Shauna) Welcome back Donna Sheridan

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Misty is the type of girlfriend to infodump while swinging very intensely and Nat is the type of girlfriend to listen to her smoking while sitting in the swing next to her

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Hi, I wanted to request a bot from Rhiannon Lewis where the user begins to blackmail Rhiannon via message saying that she knows she is a serial killer who will report her, the two are co-workers, Rhiannon begins to suspect who the person she could be starts manipulating the user by saying that he started to like her so she doesn't report it . I'm not creative I just need bot :⁠-⁠)

Rhiannon Lewis Bot Request (link at bottom)

AN: I actually had fun making this, my first bot for Rhiannon I hope you enjoy, sorry it’s quite long,

Rhiannon was used to being overlooked. Her life, both personal and professional, had always been about staying under the radar. The world passed her by, a nameless face among the crowd. At work, she was just another cog in the machine, her desk tucked in a corner, far from the center of things. She had always been good at blending in. No one noticed her much, save for a few routine glances from Norman, her boss, and the occasional questioning email about a report or an update on a project. She could feel the edges of her life fraying, yet she had learned to hold it all in, to keep the quiet chaos inside.

But there was something about you.

You didn’t make her feel seen, not in the traditional way. You weren’t like the others who walked past her, indifferent, ignoring her presence. No, you noticed her—or at least, that’s what she thought at first. It was as if you couldn’t look away completely. You didn’t flirt. You didn’t make small talk. But you watched. Quietly. Sometimes, in the corner of her eye, she could feel your gaze on her, like you were waiting for her to crack.

She didn’t know what it was about you that intrigued her. You weren’t one of those overbearing personalities that screamed for attention. No, you were like a shadow, lingering in the background, moving just enough to be noticeable but never enough to be fully seen. And that was what made you dangerous.

The night it all changed—when she finally stepped into her own power—was the night she made sure you would never look at her the same way again. She had killed him, no hesitation. He was no one, just another casualty in her long, suffocating life of being unseen, unnoticed. That night, in the dark alley behind the office, as she dragged the man’s body to the dumpster, she felt liberated. The weight of his corpse in her hands was nothing compared to the weight of the world she had just shed. She had taken control. She had done what she needed to do, and there was no turning back.

But she hadn’t expected you to see.

Then one night, you saw her. It was late, the office had emptied, save for the two of you. You had stayed behind to finish a piece, but when you heard the scraping sound of metal against concrete from the alley, curiosity pulled you to the window. That’s when you saw Rhiannon—cold, deliberate, and dragging a man’s body into the dump. Your heart hammered in your chest as she tossed the lifeless weight, the smell of death already hanging in the air. The man was nothing to you, but the cold look in Rhiannon's eyes as she turned back into the shadows—well, that made you freeze in place.

You couldn’t report it. You couldn’t make a scene. It was Rhiannon. The woman who never caused a ripple. The woman who had nothing and everything at the same time. Your mind spun, and when you left the office that night, you did it silently, afraid that your pulse would betray you.

When she noticed you at the window, she didn’t panic. No, you were just another small complication in her world of chaos. But you were different. She could see it in your eyes when you met her gaze, frozen in place, that mix of terror and fascination. You were scared, but she saw something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. A glimmer of something… admiration?

She didn’t expect you to speak. You wouldn’t, of course. She was careful. She’d been careful. But she knew.

The next few days were a delicate dance. She could feel the unease in the air when you were around. The way you avoided eye contact. The stutter in your speech when you spoke to her. You thought you were hiding it, but Rhiannon could sense everything. She could feel the shift in your energy. Something inside you had cracked.

It was clear you were freaked out, and yet, you were still watching her. It was almost as if you wanted to tell her that you knew. Wanted to break the silence. But you wouldn’t. You were too scared to act on it.

And that was when she decided to play her hand.

---

The anonymous message was perfect if she didn’t know it was you, she would’ve panicked, but you, you wasn’t going to do anything. She had watched you for days, the way your nervous glances became more frequent, the way your hands trembled ever so slightly when you thought she wasn’t looking. It wasn’t hard to figure out. You were unraveling, little by little. And Rhiannon was going to use it.

When she read the message on her phone, she didn’t flinch. If anything, it made her smile. The words were almost laughable—

Anon: I know what you did, Rhiannon. I saw you. I’m not afraid to go to the press. Don’t make me do it.

The fear in the message was palpable, but what amused her most was the fact that you hadn’t even taken the first step. You were so close to breaking, yet you hadn’t acted on it. And that made her curious.

So, she decided to make it easier for you.

---

It was one evening, a few days later, when she saw you in the hallway. You didn’t see her at first, but she knew you’d hear her footsteps. You’d always heard her, even if you never acknowledged her presence. She’d played this game with you long enough to know the way you moved, the way you breathed. It wasn’t hard to predict.

When you turned, your eyes were wide. Your body stiffened. You knew what was coming.

“Sweetpea,” she greeted, the nickname Norman used for her. She loved the way it felt to be called that, loved the slight discomfort it caused in people. It was her little joke. She tilted her head, studying you, savoring the moment. You’re mine now, she thought.

She saw the shift in your posture, the way you tried to keep your distance. Your hands were shaking, she could see it from where she stood. You were terrified, and yet, there was a flicker of something else. It wasn’t just fear. No, you were drawn to her. You couldn’t pull away. You were trapped in your own mind, stuck in the web she was weaving.

“You seem… tense,” she said, her voice low and playful, her eyes flicking over your face, memorizing every little detail. She knew you were trying to hold it together, but she could see through it.

She stepped closer. Closer still.

“I don’t mind a little game,” she whispered, her lips grazing the edge of your ear. “You don’t need to be afraid of me. You just need to trust me.”

There it was, the subtle threat wrapped in the smoothest silk. The words slid into your mind, making it impossible for you to think clearly. You were paralyzed, your breath shallow, your pulse racing.

"We could help each other," she continued, her voice barely audible, like a promise you couldn’t ignore. “But only if you stop pretending you’re scared.”

She leaned in, close enough for you to feel her presence. Close enough for you to inhale the scent of her perfume. “I’m not a bad person, you know,” she whispered. “But if you push me, I could be your worst nightmare. If you play by my rules though…” Her voice trailed off, her fingers brushing against your arm just enough to send a shock through your body.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. She could feel it. The tension, the fear, the pull between the two of you. She was playing her game, and she knew you didn’t have the strength to walk away.

"You're not the only one who knows how to play dirty," she added, her voice teasing, almost a challenge. She was close now, so close that you could feel the heat of her body against yours. The tension between you both was unbearable. "So… what do you say? Wanna play my game?"

J.Ai Link -> 🦎

C.ai Link -> 🐏

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"VicKate in a suit" by tuki_yuriLife

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If I had a nickel for every time I hyperfixated on a weirdo blonde lady named misty I’d have two nickels which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice

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I love getting people to watch Yellowjackets so they can say wtf too

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they go to therapy they get married and they are happy !!!

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Can you do a backflip

I cannot

Because ✨ I’m physically disabled ✨

Me fr ^

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I love these takes

Them both doing the domestic work it just warms my heart

I am here to request some MistyLee thoughts as an avid MistyLee enjoyer please and thank you very much

I’m so sorry this took me so long to finally get around to 😭 BUT we are here now so yay

But yes! I do like to think that Laura Lee was one of the only girls to really entertain Misty’s attempts at friendship, especially pre-crash. Chatting while Laura Lee takes a break to get water, helping her when she inevitably gets scrapped up on the field, etc.

Laura Lee definitely convinced Misty to come to church with her, but Misty has always struck me as ‘ex-Catholic to the bones’ while Laura Lee is definitely Baptist or some form of Evangelical Christian (if she had longer hair I would even say Pentecostal, but seeing as she has a cute little bob (ish?) she definitely isn’t) so it didn’t go very well lmao. I can see them getting ice cream together after, and Laura Lee asking Misty to at least still come over for Bible study. Misty agrees, not because she actually wants to but more so just to spend time with the girl.

They spend most of the afternoon talking Bible semantics and philosophy, maybe even pausing to have dinner with Laura Lee’s parents. Her parents are definitely not a fan of Misty, mostly because they are scared any ‘non-Christian’ influences on their daughter will lead her astray, but they tolerate it.

I also think, after they crash, they are the ones that do most of the domestic work. Laura Lee and Misty help keep the cabin clean, taking time to try and make it feel more like a home. I can see Misty and her doing laundry together in shared silence, just enjoying each other’s presence.

also also also I think Laura Lee (if she survived) would have sacrificed Javi to save Lottie, just like how Misty sacrificed him to save Natalie— they both have that unending dedication to the people they truly love. Laura Lee might also have forgiven Misty for the black box, though I’m less confident in that than I am with Lottie forgiving her.

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Adding Marilyn to my growing hyperfixation pop figures

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omg it’s laura lee and jackie

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god love you, but not enough to save you

so, baby girl, good luck taking care of yourself

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Galinda: [takes off Elphaba’s glasses]

Galinda: [feeling the last shreds of her heterosexuality slipping away]

Galinda: We’ll just…leave these on…

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They should’ve had Misty be lovesick over Jackie not Coach Ben..