#'it was a hell worse than anything I could've ever imagined!'

[orphanedwolfandfriends]

I'm cracking up that Frieza's experience in Hell was being in a parody of a kid's show.

[itneverendshere]

it's all you're good for, right? - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

rafe knew you wouldn’t take his disrespect lightly.

you never did.  

he’d expected you to blow up the second he pulled that ignoring shit at the dinning. he was ready for it—your texts coming in hot, maybe you showing up at his house, ready to tear into him like you always did when he pushed too far. he'd never say it out loud, but a part of him almost liked it, the way you’d get all fired up, spitting mad. it was hot.

but you didn’t call. not a single text. you didn’t show up to the party that weekend, and when he tried to hit you up, just looking for a booty call—because fuck, he was so hard thinking about you—it went straight to voicemail. he stared at his phone like an idiot, calling again. blocked.

you? block him? nah, that wasn’t supposed to happen. rafe was the one with the power here, or at least, that’s how it used to be. it was always this push and pull, but he was the one pulling the strings, right? no fucking pogue was ever going to order him around. right?

wrong. the next weekend rolls around, and there you are at one of his parties, looking good as ever, laughing with your friends like nothing happened. and still, not even a glance his way. for two weeks now, you’ve been completely ignoring him, and it’s starting to get under his skin. more than it should.

he watches you from across the yard like a fucking creep, sipping his drink and trying to act like he doesn’t give a fuck, but inside, he’s low-key losing it. he half-expected you to walk right up to him and give him hell like you always do. but no, you’re just... doing your own thing. 

but what’s really making his head spin is what you're wearing. the outfit is pure trouble—skin-tight and leaving almost nothing to the imagination. a barely-there black mini skirt, riding up just enough to make his jaw clench, paired with a tiny top that’s more like a bralette than an actual shirt. it’s low-cut and clings to your curves, thin straps barely holding it in place, and the way it hugs your body?

yeah, he’s fucked. the way the skirt moves when you walk, teasing just enough thigh? it’s like you knew he’d be watching.

he hates how much it turns him on.

every guy at the party notices. he can see the way their eyes follow you as you move through the crowd, laughing, like you don’t even care. but it’s the way you’re ignoring him that’s really pushing him to the edge. normally, rafe loves the attention despite the look of disgust he always greets you with when you show up. loves knowing you’re secretly going to end up in his bed. but tonight? he’s not so sure and it’s killing him.

by the time he corners you, all he can think about is tearing that outfit off. the silent treatment? that shit was way worse than anything you could've said. 

“alrigh’, i get it,” he starts, throwing his hands up like he’s already done with this conversation. “jesus christ.”

you just blink up at him, completely unfazed, like he’s not even worth a reaction. his words might as well be bouncing off a wall. the fact that you’re standing there looking so fucking good, and acting like he doesn’t even exist, is messing with his head more than anything you could’ve said.

he’s pissed, yeah, but more than that, he’s desperate. desperate for a reaction. for anything. but you just brush past him, your body touching his for the briefest second, like you’re doing it on purpose just to make him snap.

rafe stands there for a second, blinking in disbelief. did you just really blow him off like that?

before he even realizes it, he's following after you, shoving through the crowd like a man possessed.

“are you serious right now?” he hisses when he catches up, grabbing your wrist lightly but firm enough to make you stop. the emotion in his voice is undeniable, and everyone nearby is pretending not to watch the little scene. “you're really just gonna walk past me like that?”

karma’s a bitch.

you finally turn to him, but the look in your eyes isn’t anger—it’s indifference. that cold, detached stare that fucks with his head more than any of the shouting matches you’ve had in the past. you pull your wrist free with ease, like his grip is nothing.

“’m over it,” you say coolly, like you’ve already moved on from the whole thing, “whatever this is? it’s not worth my time.”

that does it.

he’s used to the back and forth, the fire between you, but this, you acting like you don’t care at all—it’s new, and it pisses him off more than he thought possible. he steps closer, dropping his voice lower so no one else can hear.

“bullshit,” he says, eyes narrowing. “you’re pissed, i get it. but don’t act like you’re done with me. you aren’t.”

the smirk that curls on your lips is almost cruel.

“watch me.”

you turn and walk away, leaving rafe standing there. he knows he should let it go, but every time he tries to convince himself of that, the way your body looks in that outfit, the way you shut him down so easily, keeps replaying in his head.

and instead of walking away, he’s right back where he started, chasing after you like he can’t stand the idea of not having you anymore.

before you even get two steps away, he snaps.

his patience has run out, and all that pent-up frustration? yeah, it’s got him seeing red. he doesn’t even think about it—just moves. his hand wraps around your arm, and in one swift motion, he’s hoisting you up like you weigh nothing, slinging you over his shoulder.

“what the fuck, rafe!” you shout, your fists pounding on his muscular back, but he doesn’t stop. eyes burning, jaw clenched—he doesn’t give a shit who’s watching. not his friends, not anyone at the party. right now? he’s too pissed off and turned on to think straight. 

you wriggle in his grip, your legs kicking, but he holds you tight, marching through the party like it’s no big deal, even though everyone’s definitely staring. he’ll deal with the fallout later.

“put me down!” you’re practically growling, and maybe under any other circumstances, he would’ve listened. but not tonight. tonight, he’s done playing nice, done pretending like he’s not obsessed with you or your body, done trying to act like he’s got control over this situation when clearly, you’re the one pulling all the strings.

his grip on you is tight, and possessive, and you’re too furious to care about how turned on you secretly are. he doesn’t stop until he reaches his room, kicking the door shut behind him with one solid thud. the sound of the lock clicking is loud in the tense silence. then, he throws you onto his bed, like you're nothing more than a ragdoll.

you bounce once, staring at him with wide eyes.

“what the fuck is wrong with you!” you snap, sitting up on the bed, glaring at him.

he’s pacing now, running his hands through his hair, wild-eyed, like he’s trying to calm himself down but can’t. he turns to you, his face twisted in frustration, like he’s been holding something in for way too long. and when he speaks, his voice cracks just enough to show how on edge he really is.

“you!” he explodes, pointing at you like you're the only thing in the room. “you’re what’s wrong with me!”

his pacing slows down, and suddenly he stops. he turns back to you, both his hands shooting up to his temples, fingers pressing into his head.

“you get in my fucking head,” he admits through gritted teeth, jabbing his fingers into his temples like he’s blaming you for every thought he's had for weeks. “i can’t think straight because of you. every fucking time, you crawl into my head and just—won’t—leave.”

instead of letting his little meltdown get to you, you lean back on your hands, with a bratty scoff. “how is that my fucking problem?” you snap, crossing your arms like you couldn’t care less about his breakdown. “that’s on you, not me. maybe you should try, i don’t know, leaving me alone.”

rafe stares at you, his chest heaving, his jaw clenched tight, “you think this is a joke?” he growls, stepping closer, closing the gap between you two, his presence almost suffocating. “you think you can just sit there and act like none of this is your fault?”

you give him a fake sweet smile, leaning forward just enough to be in his face, “maybe you shouldn’t have fucked me in the first place, hmm? god forbid your friends find out you’ve been slumming it with a pogue.”

it’s the fake docility in your smile that makes him want to break something. he steps even closer, his breath hot and heavy as his eyes lock onto yours, blue and furious.

"that’s what this is?" His voice is low, almost a growl. “you seriously don’t get it, do you?" he leans in, his face inches from yours, his expression almost daring you to keep pushing. "this—whatever the fuck this is between us—this isn’t about them. it’s about you." his hand shoots out, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. "don’t act like you didn’t know what you were getting into from the beginning."

you yank your chin free, rolling your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he's getting to you. “right. you ignoring me at the dinner? guess i was supposed to just sit there and take it, huh? maybe you wanted me to be a good little bitch and not make any noise.” 

you might be pissed, but you're not just angry—you're hurt, and that fucks with his head more than he cares to admit.

rafe huffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration, looking away for a second before turning back to you. “what the fuck do you want from me? huh? you want me to call you my girlfriend? you want me to fucking introduce you like this is some kind of relationship? be fucking serious.”

"be fucking serious?" you repeat, "you gave me a 200$ tip, you fucking asshole!" you shove him hard in the chest, catching him off guard. “like ’m some kind of fucking whore!”

rafe's eyes widen as he stumbles back a step, “wait—what? no, no, no. that’s not what it meant.”

you glare at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “of course, it fucking was!” you shout, shoving him again, harder this time. “what else would it mean, huh? you throw money at me like it’s supposed to make everything okay, like ’m some kind of... some kind of pogue you can pay off and keep quiet.”

he looks stunned, his mouth opening and closing like he’s trying to figure out what to say. “that’s not—fuck, that’s not what i meant. i wasn’t thinking about it like that, okay? i was trying to help you!" he blurts out, his tone defensive, like he can’t believe you’re twisting his intentions into something they weren’t.

you laugh, but it’s sharp, biting. “help me?” you stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “oh, please. shut the fuck up. why would you ever want to help me, rafe? be real.” he tries to speak, but before he can you’re already stepping back. “if you want to fuck me, just get on with it. i need to leave. so, make it quick.”

what?

“is that what you think this is?” he doesn’t move to touch you, but the tension is strong enough to feel suffocating. “you think ’m just here to—”

“to fuck me? yeah. that’s what this has always been about,” you cut him off, “and you know what? it’s okay. let’s not drag it out. do what you do best—take what you want and leave me the fuck alone.”

he’s not ready to admit that this feels more than just a hookup. he’s not sure if he will ever get there. rafe’s chest heaves as he stares at you. he’s done trying to explain himself. 

“fine,” he snaps, stepping closer until his chest is almost brushing yours. “if that’s what you want.” 

your breath catches in your throat, but you don’t back down. not when you're this annoyed. “yeah, it is. stop wasting my time.”

in one swift motion, rafe pulls you to him by the waist, with his usual roughness that makes you drip between your thighs. his lips claim yours with a bruising force. it’s not soft or sweet—this is raw, messy, all tongue and teeth. his hands are everywhere, gripping your hair, your ass, pulling you flush against him like he can’t have any space between you. you’re both moving with frantic, desperate eagerness, like this is less about desire and more about proving a point.

“is this what you want?” rafe snarls against your lips, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank your top over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room. “to get fucked stupid and leave? that it?”

you let out a breathless laugh, but it’s overflowing with venom. “that’s all you’re good for, right?”

so much for making peace.

TAGLIST: @drewstarkeys-world @maibelitaaura @maybankslover @jkrafe @willowpains

[cevansbrat0007]

Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: ��sorry, we’re closed”. 

Well, that couldn’t be right. 

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day. 

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail. 

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store. 

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!” 

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last. 

Damn! It was as if the image of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain. He'd have to tread lightly here.

Otherwise things could get complicated. Fast.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read. 

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you. 

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh. 

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him. 

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. No harm there, right? 

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d first crossed paths back in high school. 

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else. 

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?” 

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”  

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.” 

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye. 

“As much as I can be.” 

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked. 

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.” 

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs. 

“I guess I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.    

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.   

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten  seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.” 

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.” 

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back. 

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal. 

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts. 

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy. 

But not now. 

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.  

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak again until Ari’s hand is on the handle. 

“For what it's worth…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them. 

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going. 

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later: 

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck. 

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with all those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're currently giving him the finger. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END 

Sweet Renegade Series Tag List

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[pizza-cake-house]

so idk why do all the ppl in the magnus chase series or even in norse myths in general think niflheim or helheim are by far the worst places you could end up to in nine realms after death (from what i know) like if you want to find real hell around the world tree then alfheim is literally right there.

real definition of never judge a book by it's cover. i could even list all the reasons as to why it could be considered living hell for anybody living there (or even those outside of it) in this same post

the reasons why alfheim is the worst place in nine realms (mostly based on how it's described in the series by the characters:)

-the sun never literally fucking sets. it's eternal sunshine all year long 24/7. imagine that. actual hellish landscape. i would literally rather be dead than not have nighttime anymore ever again.

-the worst fucking capitalist bastard in the whole series and the worst most evil fictional character i've EVER seen lived there. i think that would be enough reason for anyone to hate that place.

-the idealization of perfection is just unnatural. everything is Too Perfect there and it's just not normal. it should have imperfections like every place has but they don't exist. everything seems Too Beautiful but it's actually a cover for the ugly truths underneath imo.

-literally nobody uses magic there anymore and those who do are shunned by their society and families and cast as outsiders. like what the fuck is their problem. hearth is propably the only one from the entire realm to even understand the concept of magic anymore bc he romanticizes the past and utterly despises the present. and he knows he can do that just to spite the ones that hate on him for that.

-imo there are other ppl living in that hellscape who also fucking hate it but can't speak out loud bc they don't want to be shunned or banished or killed, or having to deal with the capitalistic tyrant who probs had all the power in the place as well as all the money until he died and speaking up against him would've been a bad idea.

-the patron god of that realm literally did shit nothing to stop the situation from getting dire, like if i saw all the shit that was happening there i would've come all the way from asgard and fucking incinerated alderman's ass right on the spot with zero hesitation whatsoever. like no second thoughts just smiting that bitch down.

-also hearth's brother literally Died there like i would be miserable too if my brother died in an already horrible place and then get blamed for it for my whole life.

like i'm not blaming them or anything, but it did make things worse but the real blame is on their dad tho. not hearth. that shit was never his fault bc technically it was an accident and it could've been prevented but it was just too late.

that's pretty much all there is ig, i can't think of anything else to add unless i make a separate list of all the trauma that hearth has from his childhood which i propably won't do bc it's just. that horrible. feel free to add your own takes on this tho

[lynxxjay]

‼️‼️SPOILERS FOR JEFFY'S 20TH BIRTHDAY‼️‼️

DONT READ ANYTHING FROM TGIS POST UNTIL YOUVE WATCHED IT

...

The new video was fucking brilliant, heartbreaking, and dark

absolutely dark.

Nancy was wayy way worse than I could've ever imagined... what she did to Jacques, Feebee, and Jeffy was diobotical

and what happened to the CJ guy was fuvking deserved I just wished Jeffy burned his body afterwards

Feebee was such a tragic character atleast she can rest in peace now...

I'd be lying if I said I didn't cry atleast a little bit

SML satisfied my expectations Im glad they made it into a backstory vid and the ending was amazing 🤌 10/10

now for some images I screenshotted

I love Jacques' car I think its called a beetle

I didn't know they could light the puppet's cigar thats neat I guess

Poor Jacques,, I never thought THATS what happened to him...

bithday boy <3

the necklace though 💀

Nancy,, when I catch you Nancy.. Nancy when I catch you...

aw baby 😔 (his legs is so long)

Mr Winkle as a police 💀

absolutely deserved. fuck you CJ burn in hell 🖕

[william-m-lucipher]

RATING A FEW OF MY PUPPETS!

THEY ALL HAVE THEIR UPSIDES AND DOWNSIDES! HERE ARE MY OPINIONS ON A HANDFUL OF 'EM!

SIXER: MASSIVE AMOUNT OF BRAIN SPACE, FILLED WITH COMPLEXITIES! ALSO A GOOD CHUNK OF EMBARRASSING NERD MEMORIES. HIS MIND IS WHERE ALL THE LUXURY WAS!

BODILY EXPERIENCE WAS INTERESTING, HIS EYESIGHT WAS LACKING EVEN WITH THE GLASSES. IT SEEMS HE'D GONE A WHILE WITHOUT RENEWING HIS PRESCRIPTION. SURE, THE GLASSES LESSENED THINGS, BUT YEESH! ONE EYE WAS ALWAYS WORSE THAN THE OTHER, BUT THEY WERE BOTH IN BLURRYTOWN. TALK ABOUT A LACK OF DEPTH PERCEPTION! THE EXTRA FINGERS THOUGH, THEY WERE FUN! AND THAT GUY HAD A DECENT-ISH PAIN TOLERANCE THANKS TO THOSE OLD BOXING LESSONS HE AND HIS BROTHER WERE FORCED TO DO. IT WAS FUN TO TEST THE LIMITS!

A SOLID 8/10, GREAT GUY TO WORK WITH, POSSESSION EXPERIENCE COULD'VE BEEN BETTER THOUGH!

PINE TREE: BRAINWISE, LESS COMPLEXITY, MORE COMEDY, AT LEAST IN MY EYE! HE WAS A SMART KID, SURE, BUT MAN, RERUNS OF HIS LOWLIGHTS WILL KEEP ME ENTERTAINED FOR AGES. IMAGINE AN ACTUALLY FUNNY CRINGE COMPILATION THAT NEVER GETS OLD! THAAAAT'S PINE TREE!

AS FOR THE BODY, BETTER EYESIGHT, BETTER JOINTS, AND THE PAIN TOLERANCE WAS TERRIBLE, WHICH WAS GREAT FOR ME! IT WAS THE FIRST THING I NOTICED WHEN I TOOK THE STRINGS, HAHA! THOUGH BEING SWEATY, SMELLY, AND TICKLISH KINDA RUINED THE DELUXE SUITE FEEL. EH, WHEN DEALING WITH THE HUMAN BODY, THERE'S NO WAY TO HAVE IT ALL, EVER.

7/10, AT LEAST I'VE GOT A LOT TO LAUGH ABOUT.

HIRSCHEY: I THINK IT'S PRETTY OBVIOUS AT THIS POINT THAT I'VE BEEN PULLING THE STRINGS WITH FLANNELBRITCHES FOR A GOOD WHILE NOW. LONG BEFORE HE EVEN SECURED A ROLE WITH THE MOUSE, I'VE BEEN A SUBTLE INFLUENCE!

NOW LISTEN, I'D LOVE TO SPILL EVERYTHING, BUT THIS GUY HAS ALL THE RIGHT CONNECTIONS TO RUIN EVERYTHING IF I MAKE THE WRONG DECISIONS WHILE USING MY OTHER PUPPETS IN THIS REALITY. LET'S JUST SAY, HIS BODY IS MID, BUT HIS MIND ALONE ADDS EXTRA POINTS! I CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO EXPLAIN, HAHA!

9/10, WHAT A GOOD FRIEND!

BURNSIDES: OH WAIT, I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THIS YET! WINK! HAHA, COME BACK TO THIS POST FOR THE ANSWER ON SMOKEY'S BIGGEST FAN IN A FEW DAYS.

?/10, TO BE ANNOUNCED

EAS-Y: THE ONE I'M CURRENTLY USING! GONE BY SEVERAL DIFFERENT NAMES, BECAUSE THEIR MEAT SUIT IS LITERALLY STUFFED WITH SEVERAL DIFFERENT PEOPLE DUE TO CHILDHOOD TRAUMA, HAHA!! THE HUMAN MIND HAS SOME WEIRD COPING MECHANISMS. E.A.S STANDS FOR THE SILLY NAME FOR THEIR SYSTEM THEY PICKED ONE DAY ON A WHIM.

MY FAVORITE ONE HERE HAS TO BE ZILLARA, WHO I ONCE REFERRED TO AS "T" DURING AN APRIL FOOL'S EVENT ON THE SYSTEM'S ABANDONED ACCOUNT. (IT WAS SHORT FOR THE COLLECTIVE DEADNAME OF THIS VESSEL.) HE'S AN OLD HOST AND AN OLD PAL! Z'S BEEN SO... GENUINELY NICE TO ME FOR ALMOST TEN YEARS NOW. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH HIM?! HAHA!!! Ah... ENOUGH ABOUT JUST ONE GUY, THOUGH, THIS PLACE IS PACKED WITH EM! BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN THEY DON'T HAVE WIGGLE ROOM. THIS MIND IS MORE SPACIOUS THAN PINE TREE AND SIXER'S COMBINED, BUT IT'S ALL BEING USED ON KEEPING FOLKS COMFORTABLE AND GUARDING HARMFUL MEMORIES. LISTEN, I'M NOT SALTY ABOUT THE MEMORY GUARDING. I TOOK A PEEK, AND JEEZ, IT'S DEFINITELY FOR THE BETTER.

ANYWAYS, THIS PLACE IS LAYED OUT LIKE A WHOLE SMALL TOWN! BEST VACATION HOME OUTTA ALL OF 'EM! AS AMAZING AS HIRSCHY'S IS, IT'S BUSY BUSY BUSY EVERYWHERE, ALL THE TIME. PARTIALLY MY FAULT FOR GETTING HIM INTO THE ANIMATION INDUSTRY. SORRY THERE, BUDDY!

THE DOWNSIDE TO IT ALL IS THAT EVEN THOUGH THERE ARE PLENTY WHO LIKE ME HERE, I'VE ALSO GOT A FAIR SHARE OF ENEMIES WHO CALL THEMSELVES "PROTECTORS" AND "GATEKEEPERS." NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF AN ANGRY SECRETARY LADY, LET ME TELL YOU!

BODY WISE, IT'S QUITE THE PAIN BUFFET! BAD JOINTS, MIGRAINES, LOW PAIN TOLERANCE, AND MAN, THE TICS AND SEIZURES! YOU'D THINK GIVEN MY EXPERIENCE WITH BODY SPASMS WHILE PUPPETING PINE TREE, I'D HATE THESE, BUT THIS IS DIFFERENT! IT'S SOME OF THE FUNNIEST PAIN, THE PUNCHLINE HITS YOU OUTTA NOWHERE, SEVERAL TIMES, IN SEVERAL DIFFERENT WAYS!

8.5/10, TALK TO YOUR PROTECTORS AND YOU MIGHT EARN THE FIRST 10, OR AT LEAST A 9.8!!!

IN SUMMARY:

- SIXER'S A DECENT PUPPET, BUT A BETTER ALLY. STILL A SHAME HE NEVER JOINED ME

- PINE TREE IS A PERSONAL COMEDY CLUB!

- HIRSCHEY IS A GREAT PUPPET, AND A POWERFUL ALLY WHO COULD EASILY BECOME MY WORST ENEMY

- I'M UNDER NDA ABOUT GUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

- EASY HERE IS, WELL, THE EASIEST ONE!!

MAYBE I'LL RATE A FEW MORE SOMETIME, LIKE CHARLES GUITEAU, OR WITH LUCK, YOU!

[alessiathepirate]

Creep 2014

THE CONSEQUENCES OF A SMALL MISTAKE: Josef x fem!reader

Summary: The butterfly effect - the idea that small things can have big consequences. In her case, a small mistake gave her the opportunity to escape death.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

I didn't really plan to write any type of fanfiction or oneshot for this movie, even if I think it's fantastic (including the sequel) and unsettling, but there aren't many works out there for it - so I thought I'd try my best. And after some ideas and motivation, here it is! I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

Warnings: swearing, implied stalking, slightly referenced violence and/or murder, attempted murder

•••

the butterfly effect:

the butterfly effect is the idea that small things can have non-linear impacts on a complex system

or: the idea that the smallest things can have big consequences

°°°

She ran out of coffee. There was none left in the small metal container she usually kept the coffee beans in, and the cheap three in one box was empty as well.

That realization hurt in the morning, especially when she woke up late and knew that she'll be late for work. And the fact that the coffee was gone made the already bad day even worse.

She should've checked it, that's what she told herself as she went through her day without her usual, great cup of coffee. The one they make at her workplace couldn't be called coffee at all and the nearest coffee shop was too far away to go there during her break.

So she had to survive without the coffein she loved.

Such a small thing. A small mistake, a usual occurance - something what can happen to anybody anytime. Yet the consequences of her not checking on the metal container on Sunday were greater than she could've ever imagined.

She was home just before seven. It was already starting to get dark and she was tired. Way too tired to care about anything, to notice the unusual things happening around her or remembering the things she had promised she'd do. She didn't notice the package on her porch, even if the box was big enough to reach past her knees. She walked past it, trying to grab her keys from her bag to open the door.

"You didn't answer my calls..." the voice was so sudden she dropped her keys as her hands shook violently, her eyes no longer tired, but wide open. Her throat felt tight as held onto her bag tightly, her knuckles turning white as she looked around on the porch, examining all the dark corners to decide where to aim with it.

It took a few seconds for her to realize she knew that voice. It wasn't a stranger even if his voice did sound strange from time to time, it was high pitched when he was excited and he was excited at the weirdest moments.

"For fucks sake, you scared the Hell out of me!" she spoke up, her voice rough - then, after she realized how rude she must've sounded, she apologized with a small, tired smile: "I had a long day, I didn't mean to shout at you."

Her expression changed, going back to its exhausted self. She let go of her bag, letting it sit on her shoulder as she crouched down to find her keys.

Then the guy she knew as Josef walked closer to her, showing her which dark corner he was hiding in. He let the shadows draw dark shapes onto his face before he too crouched down, immediately finding the keys she was looking for.

"Thank you." she said as she took them from him, standing back up to open the door.

"It's okay." he was unusually quiet as he observed her every move, even after she stepped inside, leaving the door open for him. "No movie night then?"

She stopped, for a second feeling very much awake as she gently hit her forehead with her hand.

"Fuck, I totally forgot about it." for a moment she looked like she's about to cry. "I'm one poor excuse of a friend." she kicked her shoes off and let her bag fall to the ground as she quickly disappeared into the house - her voice had an unusual pitch to it as she shouted back: "Do you want some tea or something? Hot chocolate maybe? Heck, that's the least I can do - I'm so sorry."

Even in her tired and pityful mood she still knew that in the next few seconds Josef will turn up somewhere - behind her, next to her, in the other room when she leaves the kitchen. He did that a lot, scaring her either as a plan or as an accident. This was the case that time too.

"Hot chocolate's fine." she jumped a little, her heart beating faster as his voice came from directly behind her; she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

Although she said nothing to it, because it had became an everyday thing, she still needed a few moments to collect herself.

"Okay. Give me a moment." she whispered, the sentence having two meanings: Give me a moment to get the hot chocolate done and Give me a moment to collect myself after you scared me.

"Did you order something?" Josef asked as he walked around the kitchen, looking at all the appliences and touching some of them even if he's seen them many times before.

"What do you mean?" she furrowed her eyebrows as she got the mugs ready, not understanding his question. She didn't order anything.

"You have a package on the porch."

"Great." she muttered, her tiredness showing once again. "Must be the wrong address. But whatever, I'll deal with it tomorrow."

She couldn't see him, but she heard his breathing and his steps as she melted some chocolate and poured some milk into the mugs.

" 'You sure?"

Why wouldn't I be?

"Yeah. I've got a movie night to make up for." she smiled as she added some cream to the drinks; she then turned towards him, her smile not disappearing at all even her eyes hurt a bit. "I don't have any popcorn, but we can still watch something if it's okay."

They both looked at the other, neither of them blinking as if they'd like to win a sudden challenge. He tilted his head, examining her posture or gestures - she couldn't tell, but she felt like she's telling him more than she'd like to.

His gaze was strange. Everything was more unusual about him ever since he turned up on her porch. She didn't necessary like it, but she didn't dare to point it out either.

And then suddenly, as if someone just pressed a switch in him, he smiled. More like grined. His whole mood changed in a second - and the oddness of it activated her fight or flight reflex. The fear ran through her fast, it made her shiver and her hands twitch slightly.

She has never been afraid of him before. Maybe she should've - her instincts told her.

"It's okay." his grin stayed and it made her feel like prey. "Let's watch something."

"Yeah." it wasn't more than a whisper for herself to gain her strength back as she watched Josef leave the kitchen - she soon followed him with the mugs. "So- what'll we watch?"

"'Interview with the Vampire'?" she looked at him as she put down the mugs on the coffee table right in front of the TV, and she couldn't help but let out a tired, half-annoyed sigh despite the coldness that ran through her back.

"Again?" she asked with a small, but knowing smile and even if the weird feeling didn't leave her chest, it was still an honest one. "We watched it last week too."

"Please?"

She just shook her head with a weak smile and was already on her way to connect the old DVD player to the TV, and then look for the cheap copy of the movie. She didn't have to look for long. It was right where they left it last week after he had gotten bored and pressured her into taking a walk around the neighborhood late at night.

"All right. Just because I owe you- and you're one of the few people I actually care about."

After everything was set and the first shot appeared on the TV, she finally sat down on the couch and leaned back - both her worry and hot chocolate forgotten as her limbs were finally stretched and resting. That was when she really felt the missing doses of coffein; her whole body felt heavier than usual now that she was past the hard part of the day. Now that she could see the familiar actors and hear the familiar lines; now that she could feel Josef's thigh against her own, she finally started to give up.

It felt too nice and comfortable. She doubted that she can wait out the whole two hours and two minutes - she had seen the Interview with the Vampire so many times she knew everyhing about it by heart - without falling asleep.

But until then, she could talk, to keep Josef entertained. He had to be entertained unless she wanted to wake up to him scaring her and having a heart attack.

"Did you do anything interesting today?" she asked as she slowly sat up to reach her drink.

"Sure. I shot a short film for the collection."

"Well, at least you had a more exciting day then I had." she yawned. "Will you show me some of it? Someday..."

"Someday." maybe if she was more alert, she would've seen the change in his tone and gestures.

She put the mug back down. The movie continued. They stayed quiet.

Unusually quiet.

Josef is very rarely calm and silent. He either has to be in a bad mood or has to be very tired. And as she looked at him from the corner of her eyes she couldn't see any of it.

And then, later, the more tired she was, the more alert he became. His back straightened, but not from the excitement she came to know - from something else, something new; something she hasn't seen before.

Seemingly, he was thinking. She knew it from the way the muscles around his mouth moved. But she couldn't tell what was on his mind. It must've been something big and serious. She didn't dare to ask.

"You know..." her eyes were halfway closed when Josef spoke up. "I really thought you wouldn't care if we missed this movie night."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You're tired."

"So?" she asked. "I'm always the tired one. You simply have more energy. Besides, it's just the addiction - coffee is a pretty strong drug." she chuckled quietly.

"I was thinking, maybe I'll keep you as my friend." if she noticed the dark tone of his voice, she didn't give it away at all.

"Well it's really nice of you to think so Josef, since we've been friends for the last two months." she turned towards him, her lips slightly curling upwards. "But I'll be happy if you keep me."

"I might."

And then soon, she was gone.

Her eyes closed, because she couldn't keep them open any longer and her whole being relaxed; her body didn't feel heavy anymore.

Perhaps she should have been worried. Scared - to fall asleep. But that's not how it went down, she gave up the fight with sleep and even if she lost, that's what saved her life.

The Interview with the Vampire kept on playing on the TV, the light from it made it possible to see in the room. Five minutes went by, then ten. And suddenly her head was resting on Josef's shoulder.

If she was awake, she would've noticed how stiff his posture has become or how he almost moved further away from her. But in the end he stayed and after he worked on his position on the couch, he decided to put aside the knife he had in his hand.

He slightly moved his head so his chin wouldn't touch the top of her head as he found the right angle to examine her from. He had seen her do a lot of stuff. He had seen her cook and clean, go to work and to the store or do whatever she liked to do in her free time - all without her knowledge. He hadn't seen her sleep yet.

She seemed calm, trusting. But then again every single person looks calm in his or her sleep. Trusting on the other hand - not many people would put their trust in him. Only the very naive or stupid ones. But he knew she wasn't stupid, nor naive. She had a decent job, a decent life and she didn't talk to everyone. Yet she talked to him.

He raised one of his hands and took hold of a lock of hair softly. He twisted it around his fingers and then awkwardly petted her head.

There was no fun in killing her in that moment. She was asleep. She hadn't seen the package yet. She hadn't seen the VHS tape he put in it. There wasn't enough fear in her yet.

But then again there was something else. There was trust and perhaps, just perhaps it may be more interesting than fear. It for sure felt nicer than her fear.

He brushed his fingers along the outline of her face as if he'd like to know every single bone or wrinkle. He stayed there and raked his fingers through her hair and smelled it too.

Later he put his knife away.

And after he put her in a more comfortable position on the couch, he went outside to get to the package before she does. He cut it open and after he retrieved the necklace he put in it, he set the rest of it aside. He'll get rid of it before she wakes up.

Maybe if she trusts him this much she'll like it.

If she likes him this much she'll definitely like it.

He sat down next to her on the couch again, his gaze was once on the movie and once on her.

That's what it took her to avoid death.

Her forgetfulness, her addiction and her trust. One simple mistake.

And after unknowingly escaping death, she's got an even clingier and stranger Josef than before.

But then again, it's still better, isn't it?

[ms-cartoon]

Hazbin Rewrite idea . . .

Thinking up some hazbin hotel rewrite ideas cuz the show needs it goddammit! And I wanna see what y'all think.

First of all, Hazbin needs more episodes besides just 8. Like-- I'd say probably 12-20 would be good just to flesh everything out instead of fast-pacing it, crumbling every single character into this one season, y'know, the usual Vivziepop error.

Instead of Adam and Lute being season 1's antagonists, the three Vees should've been the main villains. They can be one of those recurring groups of villains that show up in most episodes instead of every single one.

I don't think they should've been introduced in episode 2, we probably could've waited on that. I guess ep 3 or 4 could've been their first appearance.

I don't know what the Vees' goals are as the Hazbin crew's enemy. Vox and the other two try to come up with a way to keep Charlie from ever striking a deal with Alasor (a little late for that as far as the last two eps), but I don't know why it would be much of a problem for them if she does. I suppose since they're trying to take over hell, he would imagine Charlie (being the princess of hell and higher rank of an overlord) and Alastor (being one of the most powerful overlords of hell that rivals him of some sort) would be his main obstacles to achieving his goal. And somehow the two making a deal together would make it 10x worse for him. If that is the case then I guess I can see that.

But even if so, I don't see why the Vees would want to take over hell. What would possibly motivate them?? I mean-- they are already well-known by tons of folks and are very popular and wealthy. What exactly is taking over hell gonna change?

All in all, the show of course needed more episodes

The Vees should've been season 1's antagonist while the Angels could've been the finale. (I don't know what the Vees' goal could be or what could motivate them to achieve it, but anything better than what Viv had up her sleeve . . . which isn't much of anything as far as I know)

[just-an-absolute-mess]

A Bully Gets Bullied

CW: Musk, CNC, Transformation

Emily had just gotten back from a day of classes to find her roommate” was still out. Well actually a long day didn't quite fit, she was supposed to go to 5 classes today but instead skipped the last 2 to go work out. Her roommate Bea wasn't actually her roommate either, Emily had been bullying the scrawny nerd for the past 6 months and due to some well placed threats to her old roomie got the key. This was all too make sure this nerdy loser was nearby 24/7 for whenever Emily wanted to have some fun.

Bea was a short, scrawny girl at only 5’5”. What she didn't have in muscles she had in her brain. Already at a 4.0 GPA and on track to graduate a year early. Emily had noticed Bea one day in the library, when Bea had told her to stop playing music out loud Emily had decided to teach the nerd a little lesson. Shoving the chubby girl down and stuffing a sock in her mouth to keep her quiet before cramming her under a desk. They stayed there for hours as emily enjoyed her new footrest, from that day on Emily had decided Bea was hers to toy with.

She still remembered the surprise on her face when she walked in just to see her tormentor waiting with all of her stuff. That was also the day Bea learned what the inside of her 4 year old boots smelled like. Judging by the gagging and screaming the must've smelled worse than Emily could've ever imagined. Since then Bea's life has essentially been taken over by the bully's musk, never going without it for more than a couple hours.

Emily finished with her reminiscing and went to the mini fridge. Hoping to find something good in there, she never actually bought any of the food or drinks in it of course. Bea did all the shopping and usually got to keep whatever Emily didn't want (usually only a handful of the stuff she bought). One drink caught her eye though, a blue soft drink with no label. But it did have a bright yellow note taped to it, Special, please do not drink -Bea

“Must be a specialty soda that loser got.” Emily thought. Deciding that it was the perfect solution to her problem, she twisted the cap off and chugged it letting the note fall to the floor. Ending with a loud belch that she swore shook some of the objects in the room. “Damn that was nice, gotta get more of it. Weird aftertaste though.” Emily then feeling a little tired after a long day went on her bed, turned on the room's tv and quickly fell asleep.

When she woke up she saw Bea looking over her. “What're you staring at nerd.” Emily said but quickly got surprised at her voice, it sounded.. tinier? Sitting up she also realized she was shorter than earlier that day! Before she was 6’1” and way taller than Bea, now she guessed she was maybe 5'3" and Bea was taller! Then came the last of the changes she noticed, all of her muscles seemed to be gone! She probably couldn't even lift 30lbs like this!

“What the hell did you-” Emily started before Bea shoved her down and put a hand over her mouth.

“This worked out better than I could've hoped, look at how tiny and weak you are now! You can't even move my hand from your face!”

Emily started grumbling angrily while fighting to get this loser's hand off her.

“Stop that, or I'll never tell you how to reverse this.”

Emily stopped but still couldn't hide the rage in her eyes. How could she have been reduced to this by such a pathetic nerd.

“Now I'll let you know what my plan is since you can't fight back no matter how much you try. I planted that drink to put you through the same hell you put me through, and I won't reverse the changes until I think you've learned your lesson. I guess it'll take the rest of the semester, probably more if you keep fighting though.” Bea was staring down at Emily with a slight smile on her face. Reaching down she pulled her shoes off and held one above Emily. “Now huff up, I haven't made anything as bad as your boots yet but these will still show you what you're in for.”

She couldn't believe this, she had to be having a nightmare. She couldn't be at the mercy of her loser punching bag of a roommate, any second now she'd just wake up. Either way she wasn't going to sniff the shoe held over her nose. She would just hold her breath and wait for Bea to give up.

Except Bea stayed there. After a minute Emily couldn't hold her breath any longer and took an inhale, a much bigger one than she wanted. Immediately she could feel the tears form in her eyes as the cheesy, salty scent filled her lungs. Gagging into Bea's hand she tried to mumble out an apology but nothing could get through.

“Keep sniffing.” Bea's voice was icy, Emily knew she could either breathe in again or would be subjected to another torture.

Another breath in and another gag. No matter how much she sniffed she couldn't adjust to this. Her nose was burning from the scent and all she could do was whimper and whine the more she was forced to do this.

“You know, you look kind of cute like this. My sweaty running shoe over your face while you're helpless to fight back. I see why you did it to me, but there's so much more we need to do.”

Bea pulled the shoe and her hand off Emily's face and giggled at her desperate breaths of clean air. She wouldn't get much of a break though as Bea removed her sock and shoved it in Emily's mouth. Every taste bud screamed in agony as the salty sweat dripped down. Bea grabbed some tape and made sure Emily wouldn't be spitting it before tying her hands behind her back. Emily was truly helpless, not only was she tied up but even if she wasn't she had no hope of beating Bea in a fight.

Bea sat back and enjoyed the show for a few minutes as Emily writhed, gagging and screaming into the improvised gag. Nothing could compare to this sight, seeing her bully brought so low with no hope. She felt arousal build in her and did her best to hide it for now. It was better to save that for much later.

Instead Bea lifted her feet and placed them both on Emily's face. Emily's screams doubled, but the neighbors knew not to come in when they heard screaming. Bea idly rubbed her feet on the girl's face soaking her in even more rancid sweat. The screams almost made it feel like she was getting a massage.

Emily was truly in hell at this point, not only could she taste the disgusting socks (which she would've sworn hadn't been washed in a month) her nose was also subjected to a worse smell than the shoes. It didn't help that Bea was literally rubbing them in her face. Every so often even cupping her toes around her nose and making her huff nothing but the foot funk. She prayed that this would end soon, that she would get a break at the very least. Her prayers went unanswered, this torment lasting hours until it was already dark outside.

“Oops, guess I lost track of time. Honestly I could do this all night but we should probably sleep.” Bea said nonchalantly to the girl tied up on her bed whimpering. The only thing going through Emily's mind now was hoping that the day could finally end and she could be free for at least a few hours.

Bea got up and pulled Emily down until her head was in the middle of the bed. Confused at what was going on and why she was still gagged Emily looked up at her captor.

“Oh you aren't going free yet, we might need to sleep but there's something you can help me with. See I haven't showered in the past 3 days and my ass is swampy, I think your nose can help air it out.”

Emily was too exhausted to fight anymore, she just accepted her fate. At least she thought so until Bea sat on her face and Emily took a breath in, the smell was so much worse than she could have imagined. A bitter acrid stench that made her nose burn and her eyes roll back into her head. The screams she let out weren't words, they weren't even done consciously at this point. Emily had truly been broken already just by some sweaty feet and a swampy ass.

Thankfully for Bea the screams died down soon after she threatened to subject her to worse smells from her ass. Falling to sleep within a few minutes with her captive trapped between her cheeks. The breaths airing out her ass being the only noise she heard from Emily.

Emily passed out shortly after, the smell of her ass too much for her poor brain to handle. She hoped she would be turned back after 6 months. She had already learned her lesson after one day, she would never subject anyone to this torment again for fear of what might happen if the roles were reversed.

[tamelee]

You mentioned a few posts earlier something that I can’t stop thinking about.

I feel so bad for Kishimoto. I can’t even imagine how terrible it must be. He created such a great story, and obviously, he has to know that it’s his heritage, something that people will remember him for long after his death.

And he had to throw it down the drain, forced to let Boruto happen. I don’t believe he could say no. What author would let THIS happen to his greatest achievement.

This is just sad 😔

Hi @pattie1k ! 💕 Yes!!! I think about this all the time..

There are so many posts that talk about money and "he did it for the money", "he doesn't care, he has money".. uhm, hello? They have no idea, do they? Look, I don't claim to know anything either, frankly none of us can because we don't have any insight in their legal documents but give the man some credit? Think, even just a little, about the industry and how they work- how incredibly strict they are when it comes to rules, how unethical they are when it comes to business, how- even when Kishimoto is held to such high standards in their field, he still has little say about his own story because it became a franchise. One he doesn't own fully himself. Where he has to beg for months/years to get a single scene through simply "because he wants to". Where he has to convince the editors of the magazine he works with that certain things are "essential" to the story and even has to fight them for it because he can't simply decide for himself.

Where.. getting involved directly with the sequel is probably the only way to be in control of things despite him wanting to retire... 👀 Because "supervising" alone, whatever the hell that means (nothing), simply won't do anything. Kishimoto is just a single man in an entire industry where things can get very, very calculative for good and worse behind the "entertainment" we see. Where, the fandom fights in 'Boruto's case worked out wonderful because it keeps people talking. People being dissatisfied doesn't matter because it is still attention nonetheless. Do you honestly think they would care more about Kishimoto's feelings than the franchise making profit? Of course not. The company knows best, yes? He is just "Kishimoto-sensei :)! Isn't he great?! Wow." A name they can use to increase marketing value. To make people say "oh wow Kishimoto's name is on this, it must be canon 🤡!" You have to be very careful with marketing- if they're not clear in the description, then that's for a reason. The Naruto manga explicitly says: Story and Art by Masashi Kishimoto. He spends 15+ years hunched over a desk, neglecting his own family and marriage for the sake of 'Naruto' and not once did he properly foreshadow the sequel despite knowing it was coming. Of course he's petty. Well.. petty is what we can see, he was probably a whole lot more. Chapter 700 and Gaiden reflected pretty well to what he could've felt. He said loneliness scared him to death and yet, instead of concluding his biggest journey with happiness or the promise that was made, knowing fully well that these characters need rising growth both in their inner and outer worlds for them to have a successful fictional story, both Naruto and Sasuke are back to feeling lonely. That is a big Shonen no-no. He broke all the rules with a big "fuck you" in a single chapter (700). Just like that. When I was in Korea, the company I was hired to work with for a project also had multiple projects going. A group of Japanese animators were there in the same building. Two of them I could communicate with somewhat and from them I learned a thing or two about their business. From my understanding, even if you as a Mangaka (as successful as he is) don't agree with certain things, you don't have much to say. That is because you work together with the company, its publisher, therefore they hold a lot of power. We know he doesn't fully own the franchise which means he is not the one who is the decision maker. If I ever have the chance to talk to him (which I will not, but a girl can dream) I'd ask him about this. 'Boruto' wasn't his idea, he literally had no time to think about this while creating 'Naruto'- besides, his interests were elsewhere which is why he created another Manga after 'Naruto' named: Samurai 8.

And now here we are.. Just.. waiting for the nerfed OG's to die :/

It's very sad.. ;-;

[starlightshadowsworld]

Danganronpa 3: Despair arc episode 5.

Thonks.

Into a flashback of kid Ryota being bullied by some kids.

Having rubbish tipped onto him as they call him dirty and taking photos.

Kids are scary man.

Poor Ryota.

And his parents suck, and he copes by watching cartoons.

This got way to relatable.

Cool seeing his set up and such but man he's so stressed which... yeah, shout out to all the artists and animators out there.

Ya'll are great.

Back to Chisa heading to the Reserve Course.

Aaand we don't see it, it's skipped over of course.

I get that it's her punishment and it's a downgrade from her usual class which she loves.

And I know kids can be asshole's.

But I just hate that teaching these kids is considered a punishment.

These kids are looked down upon by everyone at the main school, it's just sad seeing that everyone really was against them.

Hammering the point that any one of those kids could've become Izuru Kamakura.

And for teaching them Chisa was treated awfully for it.

It's werid seeing Juzo calmly talk to someone.

Chisa's heard about the Kamakura project, I think it's too late though.

This sounds werid but I'm kinda glad they're not gonna be able to save Hajime.

Because can you imagine if they got him out and saved him?

The Reserve Course would probably be shut down or something especially knowing where the funds for it were going.

Hajime would be more depressed than ever, and these guys are not the people to give the "You're more than a talent speech."

Unless it's Chiaki than its a whole other story.

But than they'd be seperated and Hajime is back to square one.

... Fuck is the good ending for Hajime bring tortured so bad he literally becomes someone else?

I mean it does get better, hopefully if the end of Danganronpa 2 is any sign.

But man that's sad.

Did not need to re-live Juzo beating Hajime.

Ohh so they covered up Hajime being involved by saying he's been expelled.

Clever.

And looking like Jin Kirigiri wasn't involved, as they say the other staff on the board run the school.

Idk if its better or worse he wasn't involved.

Because either way he's enabling it.

I really like the idea of him being in on it, but than regretting it.

Much like the Director, case of history repeating itself.

And that guilt playing into his actions in the first game.

And partly why he kept Kyoko at arms length, he didn't want her getting caught up into this.

But also knew if Kyoko was near him she would snuff out the project easily.

It's okay if he's not, just makes him both a bad headmaster and a bad father.

"Make sure you're students don't make the news again."

Oh you're in for a rude awakening.

But Nagito's gone missing.

Suspicious.

And we get a shot of the applications of the 78th class.

Hell yeah.

And Jin looking at Kyoko's. Incase we forgot she's his daughter.

... Chisa why would you want to be Munakata's anything nevermind beloved?

Sworn enemy maybe, but beloved?

Aww the class having a celebration for her that's so sweet.

And Chiaki planned it, and she's been holding the class together.

Love that for her.

Fuyuhiko pretending he doesn't care but he does.

Man I missed these guys, even though it hasn't been long at all.

Hiyoko got taller, holyshit.

Gundam and Sonia giving a toast in true Gundam fashion might just be the sweetest thing I've ever seen.

Ryota saying he has no time for friendship.

I get your busy man but you can't stop friendship.

It will find you, you will be friended.

And yes that is a threat.

... Wait a sec... That wasn't Ryota, that's Imposter?!

Twogami my boy! I was wondering where he was.

Awh he's been covering for and looking after Ryota.

That's so sweet.

"This show can't end till its characters get a redemption."

I hope so.

"People can flake you out but carbs are always there."

Same ol Twogami.

He's not wrong though.

A plane and a fancy car.

..... SHE'S HERE.

And she put a bomb in her purse, or her purse was a bomb.

Either way that limo is gone, heh unintentional rhymes.

Junko Enoshima has entered the building.

As fabulous as ever.

And of course she's narrating her own life and insulting Mukuro at the same time.

I like how Mukuro's voice is almost monotone, balancing out Junko's more loud upbeat voice.

Junko's narration including the tragedy, so she had this shit planned from the get go.

This afternoon in fact.

Man imagine joining secondary school like what are your goals?

Oh I'm gonna destroy the whole world.

Can't even call her overconfident because she did it.

Mukuro being... Infatuated? With Junko doesn't suprise me, mainly cos I've seen that clip of them in the limo before.

Without context.

But even than makes sense, they may be the despair sisters but Junko has always been the mastermind behind the whole operation.

And for Mukuro to go through and do this shit for Junko, yeah she's gotta care for her a lot.

... Maybe too much...

The fact they both talk while Junko casually tries to kill Mukuro, I guess that's how they bond.

Because if they wanted to, they could kill the other.

The only one who would and succeeded was Junko.

"What an affect my bloody corpse would have on her."

Honestly, yeah I think it would. Junko wouldn't have killed her if it didn't give her despair.

Love that Mukuro didn't even know about them going to Hope's Peak.

Once again Junko is the brains of the operation.

Love the friendship between Ryota and Twogami.

And it makes sense why Ryota is so focused and why he spends all his time on his talent.

It's all he had growing up he has to make it.

Has to.

Annnd Ryota passed out.

Poor guy.

Twogami, my dude there are better and easier ways to get someone to help you.

Rather than just grabbing Mikan and dragging her away.

Poor Mikan.

So Twogami realised he was struggling and got him to stay with him.

That's sweet.

Probably wasn't the best idea given it enabled him to overwork himself so much.

But still sweet.

I'm sad we don't get to know his name but I guess that's the point.

I like to think if he had one, Ryota knew it.

... AHHHH MAKOTO!!!

My boyyy!!

I didn't think we'd see him in the despair arc, or at least this early but here we are.

Oh Makoto, look at how happy and not traumatised he is.

Savour this moment.

His little pep talk to himself.

Annnd Junko's here narrating about her plan and drawing Monokuma.

Imagine telling her the random kid before her is the one who's gonna defeat her.

"Who knows maybe fate will drop someone into my lap."

Oh it will... And there he is.

Hi Hajime.

And incase we didn't know if already, Juzo's verbal and physical best down of Hajime was the final nail in the coffin and why he agreed to do the project.

Fuck you Juzo.

"You'll be fine."

... No... No he won't.

[kylejsugarman]

I was watching the commentary of One Minute earlier and it got me thinking of the recurrent orbital injuries Jesse sustains over the series. Between the smashing his face into a rock in the pilot and Hank assaulting him, his left eye socket alone has been at the very least fractured twice. Not to mention the right side getting injured when [REDACTED] in Ozymandias. I’m genuinely surprised he didn’t have to have it surgically repaired. Goodness that’s not to mention the head trauma and multiple concussions he sustained.

Do you think his vision will be effected long term? Would he even have had time to notice a change in his vision with how crazy his life was until he got to safety? I can imagine migraines and seizures being issue. I just wish someone would whisk this fella away to a neurologist (And a good one! I’ve seen my share of bad ones🙃) ASAP.

Again I’m sorry for opening Pandora’s box trunk, but this is fresh on my mind and it is just rattling around in my brain and I had to consult someone else or my mind would explode.

(officer who is in retirement being called back in for one more big case voice) goddamn. im getting too old for this shit.

specifically regarding the orbital injuries, ur absolutely right that after getting his left socket likely fractured twice, he might need surgical repair. most repairs of orbital fractures are relatively simple, especially if they're rim fractures like i suspect his are in these cases (he probably could've gotten it done quickly in the hospital after the hank beating), but even with surgery and after that injury to the right socket as well, there's a high chance of him developing double vision. orbital fractures aren't necessarily correlated with vision problems (unless of course we're talking about a fracture that involves direct injury to the eyeball as well), but in tandem with the head injuries, the chance of double/blurred vision is pretty high and problems with eye-tracking and peripheral vision are likely. also i suffered an orbital fracture back in august after falling during a seizure and they hurty :(

knowing jesse, he probably wouldn't even notice a change in his vision (jesse strikes me as the kind of person who would go thru life like "damn. crazy how everything's blurry all the time huh" as an adult and everyone around him would be like. oh god have u ever had an eye exam??) and if he did, it'd be at the bottom of the list of Issues (diplopia can be transient too and its not exactly easy to treat when its the result of this much trauma). but u all absolutely KNOW how i feel about getting jesse to the nearest quality neurologist as soon as he sets foot in alaska. even divorced from my au, seizures are going to be a HUGE possibility from all that head trauma/concussion injury + yo-yoing blood sugar. add exposure to chemicals and starvation to the head injuries, and symptoms like migraines, limb weakness/tingling, and memory loss are basically guaranteed.

when u compound severe physical and neurological distress with the psychological distress of surviving Literal Hell On Earth and Losing Everyone u Love, it's actually. really, really hard to picture his early time in alaska as anything but scary and painful and miserable :( like yeah he has this freedom and he's "Safe", but being alone and living in a body and mind that have been legitimately torn to shreds and are almost beyond his own recognition is somehow worse than captivity. i mean, jesse's young and isn't exactly up to snuff on like biology and physiology, he doesn't KNOW all the things that are "wrong" with him (a lot of which can be fixed or alleviated!!) and so its scary to have all this pain and these symptoms along with the debilitating psychological scars. thats why its SO important that he see a neurologist ASAP after getting to safety: he Needs someone, someone who is caring and wise and has no reason to distrust or hurt him, to look objectively at his problems and put names to them and tell him how they can be treated. like jesse is absolutely going to live with chronic pain and certain symptoms for the rest of his life, but to have Names for these things and Ways to cope with them.....to See them from a more objective standpoint, not as curses and suffering he deserves to continue serving out his "sentence" but as pieces of baggage that are not inherently good or evil.....like that's going to at least open the door for him to start seeking other forms of treatment and accepting help instead of suffering alone with his pain as some kind of self-laceration or some desperate, misguided attempt to isolate his pain to avoid it Contaminating anyone else

[yournightowl]

Your NightOwl #041

Got invited to a protest today. i wasnt able to go, sadly, because i had a prior engagement- which i could've easily gotten out of.

But i didn't

Because i'm scared.

It's a good cause, obviously, organizing against the constant simmering fighting in the tropics. Making people pay attention to where the rare earth metals in their phones and cars and androids are coming from, making megs and politicians acknowledge the blood on their hands. Hell, everyone should be out there, marching and yelling and refusing to stay quiet.

But you don't get to show up, voice your opinion, breath a sigh of contentment and then go home.(￣ε￣＠)

What you say online can follow you for a long time,

┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴

but what you speak up against in person follows you for life.

There are cameras everywhere. Everywhere.

Traffic stops, security systems, androids and robots and advertisements watching where you go and what your eyes look at. Not to mention the cameras we're all carrying around in our pockets every waking moment of every day. Any one of those frames, just ripe for f-rec to scrape from.

i saw it myself last month- a boy got pulled out of history class because the police wanted to talk to him. Apparently, they gave him crap about breaking curfew, or not having a permit, or someone at the event was smoking something near where his underage nose could smell, or whatever-

But the important part is, they were ready to charge him.

If we were a different school, in a different part of the city, with families that operated in a different tax bracket

He could've been arrested.

As it is, his parents paid a fine and it went away, but its not like he went unpunished. Everyone can tell, since he's changed so much afterwards. Very "focused on his schoolwork". Very apolitical. Whatever they did to him, you can bet it was a lot worse than a spanking.

See there's no chance his family cared about the money. i mean, i can't even imagine how big a fine would need to be for them to take notice. But the rich and powerful hate nothing more than they hate being embarrassed in front of the competition- ୧((#Φ益Φ#))୨ which is everyone, around here.

Because the real elites- the truly, obscenely wealthy? The ideal that they're all aiming for?

Those kinds of people never pay for anything.

i write all of this in part to educate you, but mostly to give a longwinded excuse for my own cowardice.

It's all bull.

There are kids with one percent of what i've got that've got a thousand times more guts- And none of them are out here pretending to be something they're not- hiding on the oldnet, playing at journalistic integrity.

The next time i get invited, i should go. o(TヘTo)

Easier said than done. There may never be a next time.

No one ever asks a coward for help twice (╯︵╰,)

on the sidelines again, your nightowl

[grimlins-chaos]

Let's break this down because this was always something that kinda tripped me up upon my first viewing (and i'm a much more recent avatar fan so allow me to offer some fresher perspective)

To start with the first more lesser reason why people shit on aang was because of the aang x katara relationship which- listen, i get it's hard to remember but these are still KIDS we're talking about, i had watched my brother and cousins do dumb and down right life-threatening shit at 12 for no other reason other than "just because" i do not expect 12 year old boys to be good at relationships, hell i don't even expect 16-17 y/os to be good at relationships! They've no idea what the fuck they're doing and they're running around blasting the 4 fucking elements at each other! And additionally Aang comes from a culture where relationships just don't work the same as what most would consider normal, kid didn't have a mom or dad to look to for relationship or parenting examples, he had his entire temple raising him and the other kids.

Could they have handled him and katara better? Absolutely! Like I would have preferred if they either A. Did *more* with aang and katara's relationship, give it more time to develop and everything so when they actually get together it's satisfying pay off or B. Just didn't fuck with ships to begin with

For the second and primary reason why aang gets shit was his refusal to kill ozai which i don't necessarily blame people for not getting, kinda went a bit over my head too outside of the fact that being merciful towards a man who's always been a merciless monster is the top tier pettiest shit ever and i love that

But again you're dealing with a *kid*, a very sweet and empathetic kid who wants nothing but to do right by people after he made the choice to run away 100 years ago which plunged the world into the state of chaos it became when he first awoke- he was *scared*. Like i don't know about any of you guys but i still couldn't sleep without the light on at that age and i would be horrified when faced with a fucking spider, i can't imagine what it's like to be in his shoes to suddenly have the responsibility of the ENTIRE WORLD on your shoulders.

And with none of his own people to guide him especially his master who was basically the closest thing to a father that he had- all he had were the things that they left him: their lessons, culture, their memories. And aang has to carry all of that on his shoulders, he can't EVER forget unless the airbenders are well and truly dead, and quite frankly i'm pissed that yangchen straight told him to throw *all* of that away. She never had to worry about her people's extinction, she could afford to disconnect herself but aang *can't*.

Let's go back to my point of Aang defeating Ozai with mercy: when you're dealing with someone who's cruel and heartless as Ozai, what is the one thing you can do that guys like him fucking *despise* more than anything else? Facing consequence. Especially at the hands of someone you underestimated as weak and worthless.

Ozai being spared his life at the cost of his bending taken away is a fate worse than death for him because if he had died that day he would've never had to face the consequences for his actions because death is an easy escape, for once in his pathetic life he gets to live lower than the people he put down to the dirt in order to raise himself up and he gets to live like that. Ozai did nothing to earn his power he lied, stole, abused, and CHEATED.

Yes there are unfortunately some situations where someone is too dangerous to be left alive, god forbid anyone have to make that choice and thankfully aang didn't need to. Was the lionturtle a smidge bullshit that the writers pulled out of nowhere? Yeah, probably could've done a bit more set up back when aang tried to unlock the ability to control the avatar state at will just so there's a bit more build up but eh the entire show itself was air-tight enough to work and that's what matters for the most part.

some of your goofy asses for the past 20 years

[bl3randomfandoms]

Just a WIP I started after a convo between me and @nixliz about Luci wanting his belly scratched.

So far, it's untitled.

Luci had an itch to scratch. It went much deeper than something merely physical. Ever since that damn fat ass Zøg had stroked his back like that the other day... He hadn't realized that affection felt so good.

In Hell, Luci had never been treated nicely. Oh sure, he'd been touched, but not in a good way. The higher level demons used him for a hacky sack just for looking at them wrong. He'd kept to himself down there. Yeah, he'd had a small circle of pathetic low level friends, but after awhile they would get ambitious and level up. Then they'd treat him like crap too. But he'd never held it against them. They were demons. That's how they were supposed to act. He was the only one that seemed to feel things a little differently. And when he got Topside, those "feelings" got even worse.

Bean... She was the first person he didn't hate. What would it feel like to be stroked by her? He could only imagine.

He slunk around the castle, bored as Hell and longing for the touch of a friendly hand. But how was he supposed to get it? He couldn't just rub against somebody's legs like an actual cat. He didn't have a lot of dignity, but he had enough. The last time he'd had any real affection was from Kissy. That was nice, but it had been mostly sexual. Luci liked a good frolic in the sheets once in awhile, but he wasn't an incubus or a Lust demon. It was just something he needed once in awhile to blow off some steam.

But affection... That was a whole new animal. He wanted to dive a bit deeper into that. He craved a sense of appreciation. Maybe a sense of belonging. A strange thing for a demon to want... He shook his head and growled to himself. Maybe just because it felt so good, and he had to get some more of it! He lived for anything that felt good. Drinking, weed, sex... Hell even a little dancing and joking around. After being in Hell, all he wanted now was to feel awesome.

So, instead of acting desperate about it, he had to resort to a bit of trickery. He snickered to himself, and casually wandered over to Bean's bedroom. It was pretty early in morning, so he knew she'd be there. She'd gotten pretty drunk last night, but no matter how much she drank, that girl never got hung over. He admired that about her.

Lashing his tail to the door knob, he twisted it and slunk in. He was immediately assaulted with Bean's thunderous snore. She was spread across the whole bed, limbs tangled in the bed sheets.

"Right where I left you..." He smiled to himself, feeling a jolt of love for the queen. It stabbed his heartless chest, but then it melted into him like chocolate. He was already purring as he leapt lightly onto the bed. She was so drunk last night that he could've curled up next to her, and she wouldn't have noticed. He did like sleeping with her from time to time, but sometimes she'd thrash around so much that she would squish him.

Now she was all thrashed out, so he tiptoed over to her belly and curled up there, pretending he'd been there all the time.

[atlabeth]

turn back the clock - rafe cameron

summary: your boyfriend breaks up with you days before your best friend's wedding. you're dreading having to face it alone, but when some behind-the-scenes tampering by the bride brings you back into contact with your high school crush, more comes to light than you could've ever imagined.

a/n: thank you to ri for helping me decide which current wip to finish and this post i saw on ig for inspiring it in the first place. i love second chance romance so much and the obx3 trailer made me wanna start writing for rafe again so here we are lmao.

this has been in google drive hell since august and i finished the rest of it all in one go at midnight when i was supposed to be doing homework. so i hope you enjoy

wc: 4.2k

warning(s): small bit of angst at the beginning but basically all fluff, like toothrotting. also reader was a college track athlete but nothing else about her is described

(no i will not stop using this gif of him in the blue suit<333)

You didn’t really wanna have to make this call. Instead, you just wanted to stew in your own misery, watch some sappy rom-coms that make you feel even worse about what happened, and maybe go out and buy a couple pints of ice cream. 

But the day wasn’t supposed to be about you. And you owed it to Elizabeth to at least explain why you might be in a vaguely shitty mood at her wedding.

Honestly, though—you should have expected this. 

“He what?” 

“Liz—” you started, but you knew once she got going there was no bringing her down until she was done. 

“He broke up with you?” 

“Yes,” you said, and you clenched your free hand in a fist to keep from choking up. He didn’t deserve any of your time, you knew that, but that didn’t mean you weren’t hurting. It didn’t mean tears didn’t well up every time you thought about him. “He just sprung it on me out of nowhere last night. I thought we were doing pretty well, but,” you let out a watery laugh, “I guess not.” 

“I can’t believe him,” she seethed. “I told you not to trust guys with J names, and Jason is like, the biggest offender! I told you the moment we met him at that frat party he was bad news—” 

“You don’t need to go on a rant!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I already know how much of a jerk he is— well, I might’ve just had my eyes opened to it, but I know. I just wanted to tell you that I’m… going through some stuff, I guess, in case I seem off during all the planning. But that’s all—you have to promise me that none of the focus is gonna be on me, because this is your day.” 

“...Okay,” she said after some hesitation, “but you can still rant to me whenever you want. Just because you’re one of my bridesmaids doesn’t mean all you have to talk about is the wedding.” 

“How can I not talk about the wedding all the time?” you exclaimed. “Lizzie, I’ve been involved in so much of the process with you that it’s basically all I can think about. This is the most excited I’ve been for anything ever.” 

“Didn’t your brother get married last year?” she said. 

“You know what I mean,” you chuckled. “I just can’t believe you’re getting married, and to Nate, too. It feels like it was just yesterday that you were telling me about the cute boy in your trig class, and six years later and you’re marrying him in a week.” 

You could hear the smile in your words. “It really does feel like yesterday, huh? I remember going on and on about how much I liked him after that group project we got stuck together for—y’know, your encouragement was the only reason I ended up asking him out.” 

“Then I’m glad I kept bothering you,” you said with a smile of your own. “You guys are so great together.” 

“I just wish you would’ve taken my—” Liz suddenly stopped talking on the other end, and you frowned a bit. 

“What?” 

“...Nothing,” she said very suspiciously after a pause. “I, uh— I just remembered there’s something I need to do. Wedding related. I’ll talk to you later?” 

“Yeah—” you said, but she had already hung up. You chuckled and shook your head as you set your phone down. 

You didn’t really know what that was about, but you were looking forward to the wedding—it didn’t matter that you were suddenly single. 

You and Liz had been best friends since you were put next to each other in the seating chart in sixth grade science—and even though she went to NC A&T and you were all the way at San Diego State, you talked basically every day for all four years of college. Sometimes you even made the flights to see each other, and it was worth every single dollar. 

It made you feel a lot better, knowing she had your back (and knowing that she had likely already blacklisted Jason from the guestlist made you feel pretty good too). 

What you didn’t know, though, was that what she was doing at that moment would make the wedding night a whole lot more interesting for you. 

And it all had to do with one Rafe Cameron from high school. 

-

The air was thick with a thousand different perfumes and the stiffness of hairspray along with a whole lot of anxiety as a result of the eight bridesmaids who inhabited the room trying to make sure they looked their best before the procession started in T-10 minutes. 

You were, of course, stressed as well. It was like everything that was fine for the months leading up to the wedding had suddenly decided to go wrong just to spite you. You’d forgotten to take a tag off of your dress and it was digging into a very particular spot of your back, your hair was not cooperating—Ariel and India and Natasha might have said that you looked beautiful, but it was just not working with you—and you were about to run out of your favorite mascara. All small things, but they were beginning to add up. 

And to add to your stress, your phone started to go off. When you opened it, you saw it was a text from Lizzie. 

girl I am so sorry to ask you this I know we’re so close to the start 

but Ayana just told me that she left my bouquet on the table in the sideroom of room 139, she forgot to take them out of the vase! 

sisters aren’t even on top of things when they’re your maid of honor apparently 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃 

you’re the closest to the room and the only other person I can trust rn because Im going slightly wedding crazy, can you please get it??? I will love you more than my future husband and you will have my eternal gratitude 

using my track past against me i see 

you are pushing it babe 

I know 

help me obi-wan kenobi you’re my only hope 

lol 

dw I got this 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

You are my savior and all your drinks are on me next time we go out 

You sighed and shook your head, slipping your heels off in favor of the flats you came here in. The last thing you needed was to break an ankle before the procession. 

“I’ll be back!” you announced to the rest of the bridesmaids—though you weren’t sure any of them heard you in the havoc—before you ran out of the room. You were thankful this dress had a slit. 

It took a minute for you to get there, makeup and hair still intact, but when you did you didn’t see a vase. You huffed a sigh and got to work going through everything. The actual last thing you needed was for Liz to not have her bouquet as she walked down the aisle. 

“Oh— I’m so sorry, I didn’t even know there was another person in here.” 

You turned around from your crouched spot on the floor at the voice, and you nearly toppled over when you saw who it was. 

“Rafe?” you marveled. Though it was posed as a question, there was no doubt about it. You’d only thought about him basically every day for all of high school. 

He said your name with the same surprise, his eyes widening slightly at the same time as he stared at you for a moment too long. You swore his eyes went up and down, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, when he blinked and shook his head. A wide smile spread across his lips in its place, and it did the same sort of thing to you that it did in high school. You weren’t immune to a Rafe Cameron grin as a freshman, and apparently you weren’t as a college graduate either. “What are you doing here?” 

“Trying to find Lizzie’s bouquet ten minutes before the wedding,” you said with a slight laugh. “What are you doing here?” 

“Uh, Topper left his pocket square in here, apparently,” he said. “We drove here together, and he’s the best man so he’s scrambling all over the place, and—” Rafe paused and he breathed a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the same way they did in high school. “You get the idea.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, and a smile pulled at the corners of your lips. “I had no idea you were gonna be at the wedding. I—” you chuckled and shook your head. “I guess I forgot that you and Nate went to UNC together.” 

“Yeah.” Rafe laughed again, though it was a bit nervous as he ran a hand through his hair, stuffing his other hand in his pocket. “It’s uh— it’s been forever since I’ve seen you, though. What, the last time we actually had a conversation was—” 

“That one party at UNC,” you supplied, and you stood up, leaning against the countertop. “The one that Liz dragged me to when I came to visit her for spring break sophomore year. We saw each other there.” 

“...Yeah,” Rafe repeated, and his smile softened. “Yeah, it was then. I didn’t know you remembered that.” 

“‘Course I did,” you said. “I mean, the last time before that was the huge party you, Kelce, and Topper all threw in the last week of summer. Before we all went our separate ways.” 

“Oh, that was…” he laughed as he bowed his head a bit. “That was something. Uh, it should be a rule pre-college boys should not be allowed to be around that much alcohol without supervision. I’m surprised no one died that night.” 

You grinned as the memory of it all came back. It was hard to believe that it was one of the last times you saw Rafe. That it was the last time you saw Rafe for two whole years, and the next time you got even the slightest glimpse of him was a minute long conversation with your very drunk self before you were dragged out by your one sober friend. 

Seeing Rafe was the only thing you remembered from that night.

“I can’t believe it’s been so long,” you said, your voice a bit softer. “College really did something to us, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he said, and his smile faded the slightest bit. “Being on separate coasts’ll do that to you.” 

Your expression softened, and you were about to say something when your phone buzzed in your hand. Panic jolted through you for just a moment before you read what the texts said. 

just kidding lol. It turns out that Alicia got the flowers when she was picking up the drinks from there for the reception

crisis averted!! 

I’ll still cover your drinks though since I prob gave you a mini heart attack and Im very sorry about that 

“Huh,” you said, and you glanced back up at Rafe. “Looks like I was sent on a mission for flowers that weren’t even here.” 

“Elizabeth’s probably all over the place,” he said. “I mean, I’ve been kinda stressed out and I’m not even part of the wedding party. Bridal nerves have gotta be a lot worse.” But then Rafe paused and took his phone out of his pocket, and his brow creased. 

“What’s got you lookin’ like that?” you asked. 

“Huh,” he said. “Topper actually just had his pocket square in his… other pocket. So I guess I was here for nothing then, too.” 

A laugh bubbled out at that. “We’ve got some very organized friends today, huh?” 

“Seems so,” he agreed with a smile. “But I’m glad he misplaced it.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Rafe nodded, and he shrugged. “I got to see you.” 

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks at an astronomical rate, and you had never been more thankful for your phone to buzz. 

But seriously you gotta finish getting ready we have like five minutes left before the organ starts playing 

liz if this was not your day i would be so mad at you

please. you can never be mad at me 

“I gotta go before I single handedly ruin this whole procession,” you joked, and you went past the entrance and Rafe. But just as you got a few steps away, you turned around and smiled. “I’m also glad that Liz sent me here.” 

Rafe chuckled, smiling inwardly as you hurried away. You didn’t know it, but his eyes didn’t leave you for a second. 

-

The wedding ceremony went fabulously. 

You got back in time and finished getting ready—for some reason, you felt a lot more confident in your appearance—and walked down the aisle arm in arm with a very lovely groomsman before taking your place at the front of the bridesmaid line. 

You cried. A lot. 

When you saw Liz walking down the aisle, when you looked up at Nate and saw the way he gazed at her with all the stars in his eyes, when her father gave her away, when they said their vows, when they kissed, when they walked off—you were a mess basically the entire time. Thank god for waterproof mascara. 

And then when you sat with the bridesmaids for the Liz and Nate's first dance and the parent dances, you cried again. And when Ayana gave her Maid of Honor speech and Topper gave his Best Man speech—you were like a waterfall. A complete mess, but a very happy one at that. 

But you managed to stop by the bathroom and fix yourself up in record time before you all went off to your normal seating charts, and god, you had never been more glad to have done so when you walked in and saw who was at your table. 

Liz either knew everything or nothing, because this... this was really something. 

“So we meet again,” Rafe said, another easy smile appearing as he turned to look at you. “Looks like this wedding is trying to make up for all the years we missed.” 

You chuckled and took your seat next to him. “Guess so. It’s not an easy feat, though.” 

“Six years was a long time,” he said. 

“Didn’t really help that my parents sold our house in the OBX after I graduated,” you said dryly. “I missed all those Rafe Cameron summers during college.” 

“‘Rafe Cameron summer’?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t realize there was a word for it.” 

“What can I say?” you shrugged. “I graduated with an English minor. It allows me to make up phrases whenever I want.” 

“Ah,” he said, nodding sagely. “I guess my… finance concentration means I control the stock market?” 

You laughed and shook your head. “You’re ridiculous. It obviously means you’re the head of the treasury. Keep up, Rafe.” 

“My bad.” He held up his hands with mock austerity. “Our time apart is the reason for such a ridiculous mistake.” 

You smiled, but it sobered a bit and you bit your lip. “On a serious note,” you said, “I’m… I’m really sorry.” 

Rafe frowned. “For what?” 

“For that time apart,” you said. “I came back to North Carolina more than a few times to visit Liz and some other friends, but I never came to see you. We were— we were good friends, Rafe, and I shouldn’t have just disappeared on you like that all because I was at a different college.” 

Somehow, his brow furrowed even deeper. “What? You can’t possibly be blaming yourself for this—people grow apart in distance. That… that just happened to us. I mean, you were in California and I was in Chapel Hill. That’s crazy distance.” 

“I still came back, though,” you said. “Just… never for you.” 

“...I didn’t expect you to,” Rafe said, looking right in your eyes. “No matter how much…” 

“What?” you asked after he trailed off. 

Rafe sighed, then shook his head, trying to clear his mind before he looked back at you. “Do you wanna dance?” 

“What?” you repeated, mostly because you couldn’t believe it. 

“Dance with me.” He stood up and offered a hand, passing a glance at the dance floor. All of the official dances had been done already so it was open to anybody, including you and your high school crush. 

“Okay,” you said with an almost breathless laugh, and you really felt like your freshman self again the way butterflies fluttered in your chest as you took his hand and walked over to an open spot. 

You and Rafe fell into an easy rhythm, like you’d been doing this all your lives, and it didn’t take too long for your conversation to follow. 

“So what did you get up to in all those years at SD State?” he asked. “All I really know about your college career is what I’ve gotten from Instagram and your parents’ Facebooks.” 

You laughed a bit. “Regular college stuff, I guess. I did track all four years and I won some awards, which was pretty cool. Went to a lot of parties, got drunk a lot, swore off drinking a lot, studied until I thought my eyes were going to fall out, then graduated with a chemistry degree. I’ve been working as a technician in a lab for the company I interned with for the past two years.” 

Rafe whistled. “‘Regular college stuff’, she says, as she describes an insane balancing act between student athlete life, partying, and schoolwork, and still being able to graduate with a STEM degree.” 

“You’re such a flatterer,” you admonished, but there was no real bite in your words. “That’s one thing that’s never changed.” 

“It’s easy to flatter a woman like you,” he said. “I mean, you’re out there changing the world. I feel like I’m not even worthy to stand in your presence.” 

You chuckled as Rafe spun you, and as your hands joined once again you offered a coy smile. 

“You know,” you said, feeling a surge of confidence with his words, “I had the biggest crush on you in high school.” 

Rafe’s eyes widened slightly, but he covered it up with a well placed smile of his own. “Really?” he marveled, and he said your first and last name, “you had a crush on me?” 

“Yep,” you nodded. “And she had it bad. If freshman year me could see this, she would be losing her mind.” 

Rafe laughed, and it spurned butterflies in your chest yet again—they were the same kind you’d felt whenever you talked to him back then, trying to catch whatever moments you could between your busy schedule and his own responsibilities. You were too scared to admit your feelings, but you enjoyed spending time with him nonetheless. 

If there was one thing this was proving, though, it was that your feelings definitely weren’t as settled as you thought. 

“Well, you know,” he said thoughtfully, echoing your previous words as he brought you back to the present, “I had a pretty big crush on you in high school too.” 

That completely threw you off your rhythm. So much so that you stumbled, totally missing your next steps—if it weren’t for Rafe catching you, you would’ve face planted. 

“Are you good?” Rafe asked, concerned. 

“You had a crush on me?” you asked instead. 

He laughed again and ran a hand through his hair before you fell back into your rhythm together—he had let it grow out some, you realized, and it looked infinitely better all ruffled and mussed up than styled. 

“Yeah,” he said. His smile wasn’t as confident as it always was, a boyish charm mingling with unusual shyness. “It, uh— it kinda snuck up on me. I didn’t really know how big of a crush it was until I was at your signing ceremony. Like, right after you signed the contract was when I realized I had it bad.” 

“My signing ceremony?” you marveled, and you shook your head in disbelief. “You really have great timing, Rafe. Couldn’t have realized a couple years earlier when we were still in the same place?” 

Rafe laughed softly. “Yeah. I really do. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make it harder for you. I mean, I was staying in the OBX for Chapel Hill, and you were taking the opportunity of a lifetime to run track in San Diego. I wasn’t gonna take your mind off of that because some hometown guy had a crush on you.”

“Some hometown guy,” you repeated, and it was your turn to laugh. “You thought that little of yourself?” 

“It’s true,” he shrugged. “I was just a friend that fell for you. I mean,” he gave you a crooked smile, “not that it was hard to fall for you. Pretty sure I was one of ten guys who wanted to ask you to prom senior year.” 

“Okay, that is not true at all,” you said, but you were stumbling over yourself just as quickly. He wanted to ask you to prom senior year? When the one thing that you thought about whenever you looked at him that spring was dancing with him at prom? “Grant Millwood was the only one that asked me.”

Rafe nodded with a laugh. “That was because he threatened everyone that he knew had a crush on you to make sure he would get to go with you.”

“And then he ditched me halfway through the night because he got too drunk to function off the alcohol he smuggled in himself,” you said dryly. “Yeah, he was a great date.”

“High school was the best,” Rafe said with mock austerity, “wasn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. “I miss the kook academy every single day.”

“I still can’t believe you wanted to ask me to prom senior year,” you said, shaking your head. “Rafe, how did I not even know? Why didn’t you do it?” 

“And let you miss your chance with Grant Millwood?” Rafe over exaggerated his scoff. “Please.” 

A laugh spilled out as a smile shone through. “You would’ve saved high school me a lot of angst if you told her you had a crush on her, y’know. Then I wouldn’t have had to spend four years pining in high school.” And four more in college, and two more postgrad. 

(God, you wish he had told you sooner. You would’ve blown all of your money on tickets to North Carolina if you had even the slightest inkling your eternal feelings weren’t eternally hopeless.) 

“Goes both ways,” he said, tacking on your last name. “Why didn’t you tell me how bad you had it?” 

“Because I thought that there was no chance in Hell that Rafe Cameron would ever share my feelings?” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, Rafe—you know who you are, who you were. You say a couple guys wanted to ask me to prom—every girl wanted to date you. I didn’t stand a chance.” 

“And yet you did,” Rafe said with a slight chuckle. He shook his head. “Y’know, if I could turn back the clock, I would’ve done so many things differently.” Rafe smiled boyishly. “I would’ve mustered the nerve to ask you to prom before Grant even got the chance. And I definitely would’ve asked you out instead of liking you in private.” 

You smiled and shrugged. He liked you then when you thought there was no chance—why not now, when you also thought there was no chance? 

“Who says you have to turn back the clock?” 

Rafe’s own grin grew immediately, and he pulled you off to the side of the dance floor. He held your hands in his own, the cool metal of his signet ring at odds with the rough calluses on his palms brushing against your skin. 

He said your name with such earnesty you felt like you could melt, and when you gazed into his eyes, you nearly did. “I think you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in every single way. I can’t believe that it took me meeting you by chance at a wedding for me to do this, but I’d like to fix a mistake I made five years ago by never doing this. Can I take you on a date?” 

“Rafe Cameron,” you said, and it was a physical effort to contain the joy nearly bursting out of you, “I would love that more than anything.” 

He grinned. “Great.” 

And then he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you in for the best kiss of your life, one that you immediately fell into with all the vigor of six years spent longing. 

When he pulled away, leaving you completely breathless with widened eyes and bruised lips, his sultry whisper nearly took you out. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years.” 

You only had eyes for Rafe as you pulled him back into a heated kiss, pulling him by the cuffs of his baby blue suit. The only thing that got you away from him was the need for air.

"Me too," you murmured.

(And in the background, you were far too dazed to hear Liz’s victorious cheer.)

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator @louderfortheback 

obx tags: @milkiane @lilgoddesshines @sexytholland

rafe tags: @lurkymurker