#(the fun part of masking is where i don't fuck things up and people in passing like me)

[bookwyrminspiration]

hey

how r u? anyways i drew a kitty :)

hey! I'm doing alright, all classes are now in session so little less free time, but I like learning so that's okay. Have been a little wired recently because I have met a lot of new people and formed a lot of new connections all at once! Which is a little overwhelming but not necessarily bad!

thank you for sharing the kitty with me! i'm quite fond of cats and would replace my dog with another cat if I didn't know that was a mean thing to do and would upset my mother. this one looks very polite :)

I hope you're doing well!

[thethingything]

I had a really weird dream last night but the only thing that's really stuck with me after waking up was that at some point I uses "lol" in a text and went "y'know, that just feels right somehow" and I'm dying to know what our brain is doing this time

[hanasnx]

“ WHEN THE NIGHT CALLS ” — jason todd.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ sexual content ノ p in v ノ objectification ノ possession ノ roofie mention but not in use ノ gun is involved but no gun play ノ bondage ノ size difference ノ name calling: bitch. NOTES: for @xstarkillerx who drove me wild with one single line.

It takes a lot to please the ARKHAM KNIGHT, most will never know what his approval is like. You are of the few that receive it consistently. Sometimes it's even multiple times a night, frequently.

The HQ is full of bustling militia, passing around beer through strobing lights they crafted from old torches. Their leader was reluctant to let them celebrate, and without several external factors he never would've conceded, but you have a way of persuasion. "If you don't let your men cut loose once in a while, you'll overwork them. They're about to roll into Gotham, let them have this." you believe you had said. Apparently, he'd seen reason through his frighteningly iron grip on this project, or he'd seen your tits in his favorite cami. Either way, you pat yourself on the back.

Your visitation to the keg was met with several hungry men staring you down, offering you compliment atop compliment, one even brave enough to clutch his hand over yours on your cup to bring to the mouth of the nozzle for a refill. They're not stupid, they know you're spoken for—at least in some small way. The most clueless ones may be in denial over the fact you have a special relationship with their boss, but for most it's clear to see that the Arkham Knight stakes a strong claim over you. It's reinforced by your honeyed verbal gratitude towards these desperate men that's immediately followed by your loyal sauntering right over to where the Knight sits. Some deflate with a disappointment knowing you're sweet on them only to return to where you belong, others are smarter than that.

You tilt your head at your disinterested lover, slouched and knees spread in some makeshift throne the boys threw together. The mouth of his heavy handgun strokes up and down his thigh as the digital eyes of his mask watch past you as you approach him. Those gloved fingers tap in a graceful line at the armrest, beginning from his pinky to his thumb in a wave. Despite your hard work in coordinating this, he doesn't seem to be having any fun.

Your thumb swipes at the liquid at the corner of your parted lips, sweeping the bottom one to the side, letting it bob back in place. A motion he takes note of, and finally recognizes you're coming his way, visibly adjusting in his seat to afford you some room. You take the invitation, twirling on your heel to seat on his other thigh, the muscle pressed flush against your sex through your little skirt. A protective arm rounds you, resting the weight of his hand on your bare skin, the tip of his finger toying with your skirt hem. "I don't like that you wore this around them." he speaks into your ear, low and digitally grated. You both know the kind of people he's had to hire, and he's not fucking stupid. His men look at you the way dogs look at fresh red meat.

"I figured it would be alright. You know how to break a jaw, remember?" you reply slyly, an impish grin stretching your smile into something near dazzling. You raise your cup to take a swig, but you glance at him confusedly when the tip of his gun intercepts you, guiding the rim away from your mouth and back onto your lap. With furrowed brows, you inspect the foam of the beer, wondering if he'd seen someone slip you something while they were giving you a refill. Would they be that stupid to do it in front of their boss with eyes like a hawk? You don't know, but you set it off to the side just to be sure.

"Don't like that I'm supervising this thing either. We should be tying up the loose ends." he murmurs, tucking you further into his hard armor. The grip on your thigh suggests he wants to do more than tie up loose ends. A familiar thrill shoots up you, centering in your core, that sensational sting of a memory roots there, making sure you remember what it's like to be filled.

"Why? You wanna tie me up or something?" you suggest playfully.

You didn't think he'd take you seriously. His quarters don't have a headboard, but he didn't seem too worried about that. "Oh—Oh! Jay... Jason, fuck..." you sigh, a dense and gooey pleasure between your legs rolling your pretty eyes into the back of your head. The noises of sex fill the room, skin slapping skin, drenched pussy getting fucked loud and proud.

"Yeah? Yeah, pretty girl, you like that?" he replies with a haughty snicker, peeling your tepid hips off the sheet to meet his own. Big hands grasp the flesh of your backside, lifting and yanking you onto his dick as your tits bounce from the motions. "So wet. You were asking for this, struttin' around in that little outfit—" An obscene groan reverberates from his throat at the memory, throwing his head back as his whole body flexes. Your bound hands lay underneath you, rough rope biting into your skin in a most delicious way. "Fuck, baby, push me off if you don't want me to cum all up in this cunt." You mewl pathetically, squirming in his grip only for him to laugh at you. His gorgeous body rolls under your gaze, deliberate and slow, licking your insides with his fat cock. "Yeah, bitch, take it. Take it just like a fucking fleshlight. Let those cucks know you're cuffed."

[privategurlsblog]

Expect Nothing At All - A.T

Not suitable for minors. 18+

Warnings: smut. public. piv. oral (m receiving).

PLOT: Y/N has lost her lust for life. Luckily it reforms in the shape of a confident, witty man she meets in a bar.

🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩

You were sat at the bar, drowning your sorrows with a double vodka lemonade and a cigarette. You'd have loved it in here twenty-four hours ago. People were dancing around, the blue led lights making them all look interesting despite the fact they probably weren't. You loved when coloured lights masked flaws that normal lights couldn't, you thought it was like breaking the fourth wall and being in some interesting TV show. It had gone two in the morning, the only reason you remained here was because you had nowhere else to go and so the excitement of the place had faded sometime around midnight.

You felt as solemn as you probably looked with your chin resting in your hand and your legs lazily kicking the bar. You were the only person sidled up to it on a stool, everybody else was dancing, drinking, having fun. At least you've got one of those things down to a T, you think, as you knock back the rest of your drink and hail down the bartender for another.

You loved Germany, you always had. When you were younger you went there on a school trip to Berlin and you'd fallen in love with the greyness, with the old buildings, the history. When you and your boyfriend, now ex boyfriend, had been planning travelling around Europe, you'd insisted on spending an entire week travelling the country.

Your lips upturned and then fell just as quick as the bittersweet memory of your late night Duolingo sessions to learn the language plagued you. Once a fond memory, now tasteless. Thank God for the new drink slammed in front of you.

"Easy there love, you might find yourself drunk."

You heard an English accent, northern to be specific - but you weren't familiar enough with that part of the country to know exactly where. You'd travelled a lot, but admittedly, not in your home country. Everything was too close, everything was too personal. You loved escaping. You could never escape there.

As you looked round to the source, you caught sight of a bloke with a smarmy smile and wild bouncy hair. He looked familiar but you couldn't place him for he was right - you were getting drunk. You squinted at him, the lights didn't offer much in terms of his appearance - like you'd said, he could have no teeth and eight cigarette burns adorning his cheeks and they'd disguise it somehow.

But at least he smelt good - old spice. You recognised it because your father had always worn it, you liked the smell for nostalgia, for anything else it served no purpose.

"Maybe I want to be drunk," you replied. You'd probably cringe at the slur in your voice, at how bored you sounded despite it, if it wasn't for the fact you were too miserable to care. His lips upturned to a little smirk, eyes sparkling with amusement. You didn't fancy being mocked, so you looked away.

"Perfect place to do it then," he said, his own hand waving out toward the bartender. He ordered something, you couldn't hear what, you didn't care to. As the staff member sauntered off to comply to his request, his attention returned to you.

"You look like you've just been broken up with."

This irks you. Your blood boils as well as your cheeks, you don't grant him your gaze before scoffing. Does he have to be right? The fact you're emitting those vibes is enough to down the other half of your drink. You don't care if you stumble around the streets like a mad woman singing Oasis or something - it's not like you've got anywhere else to be.

"I'll take that as confirmation then."

"How about you take it as fucking off?" You sneer in return. You don't want to rise up to it but at the end of the day you're drunk, pissed off and yeah....recently single. You look around to him, the leather jacket and expensive shirt beneath it speaks for itself. He looks young when casted by the light but dresses like a Grandad. Whoever told him that was attractive?

"Nah, I reckon I won't. If I leave and she brings my drink, it'll be gone in a second with you around."

Okay, so that was funny. You spare a little chuckle and his smile grows wider. You shake your head, letting your lips fall back into their thin line, repressing them to the misery inside your head. Whoever said smiling makes you happier was lying, to you it feels like an Olympic sport right now, you definitely don't feel better for it.

"You're good looking," he leans in further, his voice taking a flirty approach now rather than the lighthearted, slightly drunken teasing it was before. You can't tell whether he's drunk or just northern, you settle for both, but he's nonsensical to you. His words process in your mind for a few seconds and in that time, the bartender returns.

"Thanks."

"Don't want to have a gander at me then?" He retorts, making no move to leave. He angles his body so he's facing you, finger rimming the cup of some kind of liquor. Two cubes of perfectly shaped ice sit in the middle of the glass. It looks expensive, he looks expensive. You briefly wonder if he thinks you're some kind of whore, waiting for someone to pay to have their way.

"I've seen you. You're alright. But you dress like an old man."

He chuckles, "so I'm told. What's wrong with being a little classical?"

"You'll be sorry when you're old and that's all you can wear," you clap back and he laughs again, throwing his head back, brown waves bouncing as his body rumbles. Maybe it's the alcohol making him more giggly, but either way your ego is dragging itself off the floor. Not strong enough to stand on two feet, but maybe at least strong enough to sit on its arse.

"So you don't wanna fuck in the bathroom then?"

You raise your eyebrows, his forwardness throwing you off. You eye him warily now, embarrassingly so - enough for him to probably think you are interested.

"I don't even know your name."

"Alex."

"I don't know your....you could be like eighty for all I know," you're searching for excuses that aren't necessary. A simple 'no' would've sufficed but admittedly, you're enjoying the banter.

"Thirty-seven."

"Still old."

"How old are you then?"

"Younger than you."

"It would be helpful if you disclosed," his voice becomes a little rougher after he knocks back his drink, you assume from the burn of it. It reminds you to order another.

Alex ends up joining in on your order, pulling free a card that you can tell only rich people get. American Express. Good for him. Your little bog standard bank card works wonders. But each to their own successes, right?

"Twenty-three."

"Hm, young but old enough."

"For what?"

"A shag."

You scoff, shaking your head though your smile is growing more and more by the second. You look around to him, finally granting him some of your time by angling your body towards him.

"I'm not an escort."

"Did I suggest you were?" He wonders.

"No but you paid for my drink and offered to fuck me in the bathroom," you point out. He laughs again, it's higher pitched than his voice and seems to echo off the walls despite the techno music vibrating through them.

"Simple courtesy for a sad looking girl."

"Hm, so you're a slut?"

"Just interested."

"Well uninterest yourself. I'm done with men," you wave off, Alex doesn't seem detered just settles with a small smile.

"How old was your boyfriend?"

"Same as me," you grunt, not gauging why that's relevant.

"That means you're done with boys - not men," Alex retorts. You quirk a brow, you have to admit he's piqued your interest. You've never been approached like this before, you were with your ex for eight years - started off on a school trip to Germany and ended in the depths of Germany. The irony.

"That would make me just a girl," you fire back.

You'd crossed a leg over the other, leant in a little more. You hadn't realised it yet but you were flirting back, playing into his fantasy the more drinks that plagued you and the more interested you got. Alex's lips remained upturned with that teasing smirk as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. Even the lights couldn't disguise the darkness of his gaze, the brown of his eyes. Though in this setting, you couldn't tell if his eyes were naturally massive or he was on something.

"I reckon there's a whole lot of woman under that dress," he gestured to your outfit. It was the anniversary dress you'd bought for the occasion that had since passed. You wore it almost like a punishment, a reminder to yourself that you weren't good enough, no matter how good you looked. You glanced down at it now, it was blood red and ribbed and showed off a lot of your cleavage, to which Alex's eyes were driven to.

"You're not much of a gentlemen, are you?"

"I can be, when the time is right."

"Give me a nice line then," now it was you circling your finger around the rim of your glass, your feet tapping along to the beat. Momentarily, your sadness had faded and been replaced with playfulness. If nothing came of this, at least you'd smiled for twenty minutes of the day. It's the small things, right?

"Hello darling," he started, moving closer to you as a flurry of girls approached the bar, loud mouthed and squishing up against him. They all looked good but he paid them no mind, eyes driven to you, "couldn't help but notice you over here looking all sad. Fancy a pick me up?"

You snorted a laugh, "that's shite."

"You put me on the spot," he holds his hands up but melts into a puddle of giggles soon after that you can't help but join in with.

"You know I was with him for eight years. I've literally had sex with one person my whole life," you say this to allude to the fact that you likely aren't good at it. Alex doesn't seem to care, though he does raise his eyebrows.

"Eight years at twenty-three? What a waste of time," he knocks back his drink, sliding the glass to the other side of the bar and he doesn't seem to care for ordering another.

"Tell me about it," you grumble, the depression returning in full force.

"Why don't you let me fuck you then? Can show you what you've been missing," Alex drawls. He's so close to you now that you can smell the mint off his breath, mixing with the whiskey and a faint hint of smoke. You can feel the heat of his body protruding over you, glancing down to his crotch without thinking much about it. It doesn't give much away, his trousers are loose, held together by a thin belt. They're very Sinatra like, you think. But you don't say that. Now isn't the time to discuss interests - clearly.

"How big is your cock?" You quirk a brow.

Alex laughs, "big enough."

"If it's under six, tell me now."

"Six? Your expectations are a bit low love," he smirks.

"Hm, you gonna exceed them?" You flirt, watching his gaze resolve from humour into something darker. The sparks fly between you both and charge the air with electricity. It's probably been charged all night but you'd been sat flat, now you felt it too.

"If you'll let me," he shrugs, acting nonchalant for the first time this evening.

"Hm."

You swing your legs over the stool, draining the liquid in your cup, mainly for confidence. You don't feel too plastered, you're making sense and you know what you're doing. Perhaps the sadness has driven you to madness because it isn't something you'd usually do. Alex seems baffled, his mouth hanging a little low and his brows raised. Fear crosses his eyes and it's clear he thinks you're abandoning him. But you bend a finger and gesture towards the bathrooms and it's soon replaced with shock instead.

"You're actually going to fuck me?”

"Maybe," you shrug, leading the way. He chases you like an eager puppy. The crowd parts for you and you're pleased with yourself; the sad, timid girl from at the bar is merely a pastime. Now you felt enlightened with flirtation, you were desperate to prove to yourself you had one ounce of fun left in your body and it was working in this sordid place.

You reach the toilets, they're gender neutral and seedy looking. A man stands in the corner with a tray of perfumes he's selling, he's busy pitching to two girls endorsing it for the hell of it - you're busy ducking into a cubicle that Alex follows you into.

He locks the door behind you, now the yellow low lights gave you more insight into what he looked like.

"Why do I feel like I've seen you before?" You wonder, letting your gaze trail over his sharp jawline, dark brown eyes, sharp edged nose. He's good looking, you have to admit. Definitely a full set of teeth and no cigarette burns on the face - so a plus, if anyone were to ask you.

"I'm in a band," Alex moved you so that you were the one with your back to the door. The toilet lingered in the background, a harrowing reminder of this dirty endeavour but you tried to keep your eyes on his face so you didn't have to think about it.

Days old stubble dotted his chin and face. He clearly struggled to grow a beard. In the light his hair looked even more unkempt.

"So? I don't know every band in the world. You'll have to be more specific."

You were bratty and that thrilled him. You could see it in the way his eyes lit up everytime you threw a comment at him, the smile on his lips growing. Momentarily it wasn't flirty, instead a bit boyish. He looked cute, you had the urge to pinch his cheeks but figured that might kill the mood.

He leaned into you, one palm landing against the cubicle door, the other taking place on your hip. You bristled at the touch, it made you painfully aware of what you were doing. But you weren't uncomfortable. Isn't this what single people did all the time? You'd have to get used to it if you ever wanted to fuck.

"What if I tell you and you faint?" He murmers, now his eyes stick to your lips. His tongue darts out to wet his own, swelling in the anticipation of a taste of you.

"So you are the long lost member of one direction then?" You gasp, feigning an excitement that makes Alex chuckle, endeared by your wit.

"You caught me."

"I'm not going to faint Alex, you're hardly Liam Gallagher."

"Disappointed?" He wonders and you shrug, you move your hands under your bum against the door, levitating your hips upwards to meet his. The slight grind makes your breath hitch and his smirk grow. You're feeding into his ego but he's picking yours back up - it's transactional at best.

"Maybe. I do fancy him."

"Aren't you a bit young for him?"

"I'm a bit young for you, but here we are," you retort and he chuckles. Moving his body now so it's flush against yours, his lips a mere pucker of the lips away but you let the tension build, seeing it in his shoulders, feeling it in the eager fingertips he has grazing your thigh over your dress.

"Arctic Monkeys."

"Yeah, what about them?" Your voice fell shaky now, his head had dipped and his breath fell against your neck. Goosebumps littered your skin, heat endorsed you.

"That's my band."

"Bullshit," you called out, "I know who they are. Didn't they write that track that's all over TikTok?"

"Don't start with that," he groaned, pressing his hips further to you.

"What? Sad your rock band has reduced to the mundane hm?"

"That's life sweetheart. It moves faster than you do."

"Maybe you really are Alex Turner, you sound like him."

"So you know who I am?" He wonders.

"You're not him. You can't be," you gawp, "he has slicked back hair and screams 'I'll bend you over'!"

"Okay, what's this version of me telling you then?" He speaks against your neck, the hairs standing to attention under his lips. He leaves a chaste kiss there and you embarrassingly moan out.

"You stopped listening to Elvis and started listening to Sinatra," you joked and he chuckled against your neck.

He pulled away, his gaze piercing into you. One of his palms moved to squeeze your neck, your throat bobbing as you swallowed. The pit between your thighs began to ache the more he looked at you, hungry eyes devouring you in his mind.

"I really am him, you know. In case you wanted bragging rights."

"What makes you think anyone gives a fuck?" You clap back. You hadn't known this was him, the version that stayed in your mind was that LA based rockstar who went out with that tall girl from Love Island. This man seemed far removed from that image. You didn't care either way, you just wanted him to fuck you.

Your legs spread involuntarily, his body sunk deeper into the curve of you, his crotch giving away his arousal even though you'd barely done anything.

"I like you," his lips upturn again, soft laughter lines forming at the sides of his mouth. He doesn't look old, but he's older than you. You're desperate to know if it makes a difference. You grind your leg subtly against his crotch, hearing his breath hitch.

"Ready to fuck or do you fancy obliterating me anymore?" Alex clasps your waist, he's holding back, you can see it. He doesn't care for the conversation now so you shrug.

"Have your way with me," you answer, coaxing a glint in his eye.

His head dips to kiss you, his lips warm and sweet from the liquor. You've never kissed anyone but your ex, but this is different. Alex is firm, he starts off slow but that lasts all of one second before his tongue swipes the seam of your lips, his fingers moving to pull your dress up over your hips.

You feel reckless, for once as young as you are. You find comfort in the fact there won't be a proposal you're waiting for, there won't be an expectation for him to cuddle you after. You're both in here for one thing, both expecting nothing at all.

"Hm, what a nice arse," he drawls, his palm softly caressing the supple flesh before you feel the sting and hear the sound of his palm slapping against it. He watches it jiggle, emerged in the moment. You look around expectantly.

"You want this yeah? Don't feel too drunk or anything?" He confirms, moving his digits over the damp of your panties. Admittedly, you were wet. How couldn't you be with his teasing? And he was hot, you had to admit. The lights had confirmed it and you had all but gushed then and there.

"If I didn't want it, I'd probably kick you in the bollocks."

He laughed again, and then swiftly pulled your panties down. There's no time for foreplay, you hear the zipper of his trousers before the sound of them hitting the floor, belt clanking against the linen. It's probably dirty, but he doesn't seem to care.

His hands caress your waist, thumbs spinning a slow motion against your sensitive skin. Then he angles your hips upwards, you clasp the door tight hoping your heels will hold you up throughout whatever might happen.

"Ready?"

"Mhm."

"Right I'm gonna fuck you now. You're definitely wet enough," he chuckles, his palm reaching round to clasp the front of your neck again and angles your head to the side to look at him.

"Don't flatter yourself," your shaky voice gives you away. Alex's eyes glint with amusement before he enters you in one swift motion.

"Fuck!" You gasp, the searing pain unexpected. Your eyes squeeze shut and Alex halts inside of you as you try to relax, but your pussy is clamping him tight, telling him off for the sudden intrusion by refusing to let him go. Alex groans, his head resting on your shoulder.

"You're very tight," he announces in your ear, you clench again just to tease him and his grip on your neck tightens.

"You're very big. Guess not all men are liars."

"Tell me when to move, I don't want to hurt you."

For the first time, he sounds genuine. For the first time, your romantic heart flutters. You berate yourself for it, nearly growling at how you make everything into something it isn't. You'd worn rose coloured glasses for eight years, now wasn't the time for making it cute.

"No," you gruffly speak, "fuck me. As hard as you want. Fast as you want. I want to feel defied by you."

Alex groans, the shock even present in his call of pleasure. He twitches inside of you, liking the idea of having control.

"However I want?"

"Yes. Whatever you want Alex."

His name falling off your lips made his resolve snap. He pulled out all the way, shoving himself back into you with twice the drive. You gasped at the burn, the stretch. But the pleasure simmered beneath, you knew you could wait it out.

Alex grunted in your ear as your tight heat enveloped him, the wetness squelching and tainting the air with the sounds of your passions. Neither of you cared who heard, in the very depths of Germany, what did it matter?

His hips snapped against yours and your walls fluttered at the feel of the ridges and veins of his cock. Your head fell against the door, your moans proceeding your thoughts as they empty into nothing but him.

Alex was equally affected, something you appreciated. You shouldn't compare but when there's only one other comparison, it's hard to blur out the thoughts. But your ex was a silent lover and had you wondering half the time whether he enjoyed it or it was just monotonous after the first few years. Alex, however, made his pleasure evident in his deep groans and harsh breath in your ear.

"Fuck," he grunted, "your cunt is perfect."

You whined at that, your wit momentarily halted. Your head clouded in pleasure, overwhelmed by the intense sensation of him pushing in and out of you. He only seems to go harder and faster with each thrust. His hands reach around your body, searching for your chest, he roughly pulls down the top of your dress.

You were braless underneath, it was the sort of dress the straps would show if you wore one. Alex seemed to appreciate that, humming at the bareness of you before cupping them in his hands. His touch was rough, demanding your body to respond to his attention. The rough pads of his thumbs swiped over your sensitive nipples that had hardened with your arousal, pinching them between his thumbs and forefingers, twisting and tugging enough to have you mewling.

"Perfect tits as well. What's the likelihood of finding such a class bird in this place hm?" Alex dotes, his assault on your nipples lessening in light of his hand trailing down your front. He's not once stopped his movements, his stamina impressing you, though you don't have the charm to tell him that with your head pressed against the cubicle wall and your mouth full of drool.

His nails scratched your skin lightly, making you buck back into him and him groan. One of his hands moves to your shoulder so he can pull you back against him, the new angle making him hit a spot previously unattended.

"Oh fuck!" You mumble, the pleasure exploding like sparks in your stomach. You feel so close from barely anything, he hasn't even touched your clit yet, though he's making his way there now - teasingly of course.

"Hm hit your spot have I?" Alex chuckles, his lips trail fire up your neck, a cool trail of spit left in his wake. He licks a trail from your neck to your ear, biting down on your earlobe, you shiver, bucking against him again.

Angling your jaw towards him, his head hovers over yours, eyes brimming with lust, beads of sweat forming from the intensity. He looks even better like this, raw and flushed red, all the teasing faded into something far more sordid.

"Open wide darling," he ordered. You didn't understand what he meant but opened your mouth nonetheless, "stick that tongue out," once again, you complied, watching as he puckered his lips. Your cunt clamped around him as the string of spit from his lips released into your open mouth, a gurgled moan releasing from your throat at the dirtiness of it. You'd just met him and now he was spitting in your mouth? It was filthy - you found yourself loving it.

Alex pulled out of you swiftly with a gruff noise falling from his lips. He tapped the back of your thighs and you jumped up, barely present with how much pleasure clouded your mind. The intoxicating heat of him surrounded you, making the cubicle feel even smaller, even more intimate than it already was. He barely had room to move and yet he was still managing to make you feel this good.

He entered you again swiftly, hands clamped over your arse as he pushed you down on his cock. Your head crashed against the door, your neck and nape flushed a deep red and covered with sweat. You felt in a blissful haven like this, the ridges and contours of him scraping your sensitive walls. You were so close now, Alex could tell.

"Touch yourself. Use your fingers for me," he demands, forcing your eyes open. Your shaky hand left his shoulder to find your clit, rubbing tight circles on it immediately. Alex looked at your movements, his cock twitching at the sight, your painted nails matched your dress, your slender fingers so little compared to his but you were clamping down on him nonetheless.

"Look at me," one of his hands left your arse to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to fall on him. Your mouth fell ajar, silence replacing your moans as the pleasure became too overwhelming for any noise, "I want you to cum around my cock darling. Come on now."

You lost it. The intense feeling of your hand on your clit, the fullness of him buried deep inside you, his consistent hard thrusts hitting that same spot he striked that you never found in yourself - it became too much. Your pussy tightened, you gushed around him and your body convulsed from the sensation. You'd never felt anything like it, wave after wave of pleasure that lasted far longer than you'd ever felt before.

Your hair stuck to your skin, sweat slicked body sticking to the vinyl of the door. Alex smirked, pleased and equally aroused by your orgasm.

"You've never had one of those, have you?"

"Yeah....just....not like that," you struggled through your deep breaths. Alex chuckles, softly bucking into you still, still hard as a rock. You wanted to make him feel as good as he did you.

"Want me to suck your cock?"

"Not opposed," Alex shrugged, a smirk growing on his lips. Your legs were shaky as he let you down, you crumbled to your knees but figured that's where you should be anyway. The stickiness of the toilet floor was lost in your mind. You were probably knelt in remnants of piss and spilt drinks but you didn't care.

Finally, you saw his cock in all its glory. It was hard, throbbing, glistening with your wetness. You salivated at the sight of it, so big and ready for you. Alex twined his fingers into your hair and nudged you forward. You got the message, taking him into your mouth all the way, even if you did splutter, you kept at it.

Alex moans, his hands smacking against the door as he leant over you. He let you control your movements for now, your swirling tongue and hot mouth felt good, it wasn't quite your pussy but it was good all the same.

"Fuck that feels good. You telling me you've only sucked one cock?" Alex wonders, you gaze up at him through your watery lashes, giggling around him. He smiled at the cuteness of it all, running his hand through your hair until his head threw itself back when you swirled your tongue over his tip.

"God that feels good," he bucks his hips into your mouth now, patience wearing thin as he began to twitch and throb, his impending release imminent.

"Mmmmm," the vibrations of your mouth sent him spiralling. He looked at you with desperation, for what he didn't know, you were already giving him your all. Perhaps for permission. You glanced at him with eyes full of lust, another moan leaving your lips at the sight of his parted ones, flushed cheeks, sweaty hair falling over his forehead.

He came without warning. He twitched once at the back of your tight throat, and then he thrusted deep as his cum started spurting into you. His hand pulled harshly at your hair, hisses and expletives leaving his lips as his hips kept jolting, his release still spilling into you.

Eventually he stilled, his chest heaving, hand pulling through his own hair now. His eyes had glazed over, like icing on top of a bun and he looked content as he helped you off your knees, pulling your skirt down and the top of your dress up to cover you.

"That was good," you say, the release burning your throat making your voice croaky. You swallowed, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. Alex looked at you in amusement.

"Good is an insult in this day and age."

"Magnificent?"

"Overdoing it," he mused.

"Oh well, can't please 'em all," you cracked and he laughed, sorting himself out.

Now that the tension had been broken, you both stood there a little unsure. He was probably far more used to this than you, you had no idea what to do.

"That's it then. Guess we've fucked."

"Hmm, reckon so," he shrugs, still teasing you. You rolled your eyes, left the bathroom and avoided looking at the perfume man as you fixed your hair and makeup. Suddenly, your future became clearer as you stared at your reflection. You were free.

Your perspective had changed. You could do whatever you wanted. You could walk out of toilet stalls with a burn between your legs, you could have messy hair and makeup smeared across your lips. No one would question you. You could do whatever the fuck you wanted.

The relief surged through you, replacing the sadness. You'd wasted eight years of your life, were you fuck going to waste anymore. The bleak future brightened up, imagining various nights of fun, random events, random meetings with random people.

It was probably momentary. Your reality was far worse, you had to find a place to live, decide whether to keep travelling, you didn't even have a job. But in light of this evening, you felt okay, even if just for a moment. That was a win.

Alex exited the toilet with an equally relieved half smile, still carrying that lazy post orgasmic look. You smiled at him in the mirror, clicking the end of your lipstick tube back on with a cheeky grin.

"Never got your name," Alex whispered as he came up next to you, pumping some soap into his hands.

"Does it matter?" You shrug, the new version of you squealing in excitement at his nonchalant you sound.

"Does it not?" He quirked a brow.

"No, I don't think so," you wiped your hands with a paper towel, swinging your bag onto your shoulder, "I expect nothing at all from you."

Alex smiled, his relief flowing the same way that yours was. You'd both needed a fuck and now it was over. You'd never see him again, but you'd always remember him. And him you, the nameless sad-turned-seductress girl sinking double vodka lemonades at the bar - drowning her sorrows.

🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩

A/N: barely edited (lazy at the moment 🙂‍↕️). I liked this one considering I started it at 4am. Enjoy x

(If anyone has any ideas - please chuck them my way. I love to write.)

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the ask game, Jason/Tim where the Pit makes Jason possessive rather than mad and so he imprints on Tim as being his and needing to take him and make him fully his, turn Tim into Jason's own creature? I think that could be a cool idea, since the Pit has different effects on different people.

for the ask game!

oooh, i love explorations of what the Pit does to the psyche, especially if it falls outside of the typical Pit Madness schtick. here's how i would try and write that

so what i think is fun about Jason and the Pit is, he wasn't *dead* when he got dunked, he was just mentally catatonic. dunking him in the Pit was a gamble on Talia's part and Ra's even points out in Red Hood: Lost Days it may not work. so to have it work but just... wire Jason *differently* is a lot of fun to me. i like the idea of Jason being a bit aimless after the Pit. he's got his wits to him but it's still the "came back wrong" vibes. and when Talia shows him the pictures of Tim as Robin, trying to show him that Bruce replaced him, it has the opposite effect. Jason's wires are crossed in all sorts of directions and all he can think of is he won't let what happened to him happen to another kid. so he spirals, looking into Tim and getting more and more obsessed. what starts as a genuine concern for Tim's safety becomes a possessive imprinting. Tim becoming Jason's purpose.

one of the defining things about Jason's feelings on Tim, in canon, is feeling like Tim is being held back by his loyalty to Bruce. so, i don't know how literal you meant creature, but i'm taking it balls to the walls bc i like fucked up monster vibes. the *how* is the fun part of it. it's easy for Jason to corner Tim, kidnap him. but how does Jason decide to corrupt Tim? i know the Court of Owls is a New-52 thing and i'm going off of pre-Flashpointt, but, i think it'd be fun to steal it. just because well. i really fucking like Talons. and Jason making Tim a Talon would be a twofold thing- for one, it protects Tim. it's a lot harder to kill a Talon than a person. and for two, it makes Tim easier to control. i think Tim would fight it hard, but the Talon programming combined with Jason's fierce protectiveness would snap him pretty easily.

Jason would be smart about it. he'd keep Tim locked up for at least a few months. because if Robin goes missing, then the calvary is going to start looking for him. Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl, Oracle, Huntress, the Titans, everyone. and Jason knows even if he puts a mask on Tim, he needs to wait. needs to let the smoke blow over. so for months, it's just Jason and Tim somewhere underground where no one can find them. that's where the bulk of their bonding comes in. because i do think Jason would want Tim to *genuinely* like him outside of just monsterous programming. Jason would work to earn that trust, even if it's through manipulation. tbh i think he'd lie to Tim, either gaslighting Tim about his loved ones not looking for him, or straight up tell Tim he's imagining having been Robin. anything that deconstructs Tim's idea of a support system outside of Jason. Jason is Tim's savior, in his eyes, and he'd want Tim to believe that too. that Jason had to protect Tim, from the Bat. very fucked up vibes.

once Jason's sure it's safe, he'd slowly start making his presence known as Red Hood, with Tim by his side. Jason would still want to do the whole Red Hood thing, but now, he has the ability to taunt Bruce about Tim. it'd be a fun mind game for Jason, telling Bruce that he lost *another* Robin. (three, if you count Steph) meanwhile, Jason gets to go home to Tim the whole time. it's a fun game to him, while also making him preen that he's protecting what he believes belongs to him.

eventually, the truth would come out. but by then, Tim's too deep in Jason's pocket to listen to anyone, even Dick. he'd lash out at anyone claiming Jason is manipulating him, and he'd be Jason's perfect little partner. very fucked up ending where Jason and Tim are "happy" together, but in the most fucked up way. i'd give Tim a new codename, something like Shrike because that sounds fun and pointy. they'd almost be a Batman and Robin parallel/foil, in a way.

also, just as a bonus alternative: another route i think you could take this idea is playing with Joker Junior. like, Jason imprinting on Tim *just* as Joker kidnaps Tim. so that's what sets Jason's plans into action, he was going to wait for the perfect moment but now, Tim is missing and Jason will be *damned* if someone gets to Tim first. and since Jason has well. firsthand experience with the Joker, he's able to find Tim first and since Tim is so mentally shattered at this point, it makes him easy to manipulate. easy to get him to traumabond onto the person who saved him and even once he's mentally recovered, he's so attached to Jason he wouldn't want to leave Jason. and maybe Jason would use Lazarus Resin or something similar to make Tim more creature-like, and even get Tim to agree to it, under the guise of it helping protect Tim. this route could be fun bc it plays more with just how "consensual" it is for Tim and how much he really has his wits about him, choosing Jason after being brainwashed.

[carcarcraziiv2]

I LOVE YOUR JEALOUS APHELIOS AHH. I keep re-reading it!! Can I request a jealous kayn? NSFW or SFW is fine :3

THAT IS SO SWEET, ILYSM FOR TELLING ME THIS <3 <3 <3. Truly, it makes me happy to know people actually ENJOY what I am writing! Gives me a real boost to keep goin', ya know?!

And you literally bet your ass I will, Kayn is my ngjfhdsgjkh just my dirty lil' guy and I love him so gd much.

THIS is going to be NSFW. There will be warnings. I can't NOT do NSFW when I'm doing a jealousy trope. On god though? I had a random urge to make it soft Kayn so.... enjoy :3

P.S. SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG BUT I HOPE YOU LOVE IT <3

18+ MDNI~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~18+ MDNI

TW: Jealousy, violence (literally just a punch), kind of mental illness? (Idk how I honestly classify Rhaast in this AU, but just in case), sex, masked man doing to do (ooo c;).

AS ALWAYS! Enter at your own risk. ILYSM <3

18+ MDNI~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~18+ MDNI

Jealous Kayn

The concert was a success, as per usual. The crowd was dispersing, however a few guys stuck around in the V.I.P area you chose to sit in to support your boyfriend, Kayn.

You chose to help the venue workers begin cleanup duty as you waited for Kayn to come retrieve you. There were round tables scattered about, people having left their empty cups and trash all over the place.

"You don't have to help clean up you know," a friendly young man came over to where you had a trash bag held open, scooping litter into it. "Patrons don't generally stick around for this part. I'm Jack, what's your name?"

"Oh, I don't really mind at all. I travel with the band, so I try to make a habit of helping out," you smile. "I'm y/n, nice to meet you."

"Travel with the band, huh? So do you like help w- whoa! You okay?," Jack starts, before you trip over the bag you're holding in front of you and nearly fall.

Luckily, he was there to catch you so you didn't make any more of a fool of yourself.

Unbeknownst to you though, Kayn had just walked in to fetch you. His eyes widened in shock before his brow furrowed, his features turning to a scowl as he witnessed you in another man's arms.

You hadn't even noticed his presence yet, not until you felt a force lift you up by one of your arms so that you were standing tall again.

"Oh, Kayn! The show was gre-," you don't get to finish your sentence before Kayn is throwing a punch at Jacks face. The only thing you can do in response is drop your mouth open in shock.

"Whoa what the fuck man!," the friendly venue worker shouts, his hand coming up to cup his face. You rush over to him, noticing Kayn about to throw another in his direction. You step in front of Jack just in time for the blow not to hit him, Kayn barely stopping before accidentally hitting you.

"Knock it off, you idiot!" You holler, pushing your boyfriend in his chest. He stumbles back slightly, taken aback by your defense of this man who clearly just had his hands all over you.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest as you watched his face turn from shocked to a scowl. He was clearly upset at you, but you were too upset with him to give a shit.

"Just go back to the hotel, Kayn. I'll find my own way back." Kayn stood there for a moment, his hands balled into fists as he seemed to study you for a reaction.

When you didn't falter your gaze, he conceded.

"Fine. Have fun with him," he snarled, whipping around and stomping away.

As you rushed back over to Jack to apologize and offer him assistance, you were unaware that Kayn still watched from the shadows of the small hallway in which he came from.

You idiot, Rhaast scolded him. "Shut up," he responded aloud. You let your emotions control the situation, you fool. Now our love is embarrassed and mad at us. Kayn hit himself on the head, then smoothed down his hair. "Fuck, you're right," he sighed. Although he knew he should go apologize to both of you, he felt defeated- disappointed in himself. He was so scared of losing you he made a minor situation worse. Not to mention, Yone was certainly going to hear about the incident from the venue management.

At that point, the only thing he could think to do was follow your order and return to the hotel.

To your surprise, Kayn made sure one of the guys stuck around to bring you back, too.

~~~~~

Yone was the one to take you to the hotel, silent for the entire drive until you arrived at your desitination.

"Go make up," he said, unlocking the door. "Kayn's mood will surely get worse after our conversation tomorrow."

"Ugh, thanks for the ride Yone," you sighed, thanking him as you left the vehicle. You entered the hotel, taking the elevator up to the room the two of you were sharing.

Steeling your nerves, you sifted through your pockets for the key card, taking it out and unlocking the door.

You weren't sure what you were expecting upon entry, but it was definitely not what greeted you.

Kayn sat shirtless on the patio, a lit cigarette smoldering in the ash tray, his body glimmering slightly from the moonlight caressing his skin.

And when you looked at his face... you saw it adorning his Rhaast mask.

Whatever edgy pity party shit that he is pulling, I don't care. I am staying in here. You dropped your phone and belongings onto the counter, silently scowling at him until his head slowly turned your direction.

You always liked his Rhaast side. So protective and levelheaded. Although very dominant sometimes, he always made your comfort a priority.

He stood, opened the sliding glass door, entered, then shut it behind him without turning around.

"Y/N," he said plainly, putting his hands in his pockets as he awaited your response.

"Yes?" You said, carelessly sassy with your tone as you looked anywhere other than the sculpted man prowling towards you. "What do you want?"

"You know I'm on your side, little one," Rhaast says as he approaches. You took a step back in unison with each of his until you were undoubtedly trapped between him and the white hotel wall. His body radiated heat that seeped into your skin, and you breathed deep to calm yourself.

"Ka- Rhaast. I don't know what to say. What happened earlier was really fucked up."

"I know, I know. Don't worry- I gave him a piece of my mind. That idiot never treats you right," his hand reaches up, gently caressing your face before lifting your chin to look at him.

You can't help your brow furrowing, lip pouting.

"Kayn doesn't treat me badly... he just read the situation wrong."

Checkmate, asshole. Kayn hisses to Rhaast. In return, he takes off his mask, revealing his wild but soft eyes. The contradiction between the obvious curiosity in his gaze and the demanding flicker of arousal made the muscles in your stomach tighten.

"He almost hit you, do you understand? Know's better than to endanger our love like that," his expression was so pained you could only imagine the war that was waging in his head right now.

"It's okay, love... really," you sighed. "I just didn't want any more violence to happen, and it seemed inevitable unless I intervened the way that I did. I know you- or Kayn- would never hit me. And I always know you treat me right."

Rhaast pouts his lower lip, and you have sudden overwhelming urge to kiss him. It wasn't your intention; you really did want to talk about everything... but you just couldn't stop yourself.

The kiss was tender, soft. He let out a sigh when you did it, almost a whimper- so out of character for him. It was almost as if he was relieved. He knew that you had forgiven him. You didn't feel so trapped between him and the wall anymore when Rhaast's hands gently pulled you closer to him to deepen the kiss.

"Thank you for always protecting me, Rhaast. Kayn, I love you," you smile against his lips, your hands touching his face. He pulls away only for a moment to look you in the eyes before grabbing you around your ass and lifting you up. Instinctively you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you towards the bed.

Holding onto the back of his neck, you squirmed in his arms as the he lowered you onto the soft cotton bedding. The bed was cool under the fabric of your clothes, a delicious contradiction to the heat radiating between you and Kayn.

The two of you bite and suck and play amongst each other's lips, your body gradually becoming more and more aroused. When you look back into his eyes, you can tell Kayn has returned.

"I'm sorry, my love, but I can't control myself when it comes to you," he says, a shy but sly smile taking over the canvas of his face. He looks so cheeky, trying to get you to forgive him still even when you're sure he knows your hardly angry anymore.

Now you're just turned on.

"I understand- I can't say I wouldn't have reacted the same way... Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you make it up to me?" You smile back at him, tracing a finger down the soft skin of his muscular bare chest. He tilted his head in response, raising a brow. His body towered over you as the two of you lay there, encompassing you in his thrilling aura.

"You dirty little thing," he cooed before nuzzling his face into your neck, his wet tongue dragging along your skin before placing a soft nibble. You whimpered at the feeling as he continued scraping his teeth along your flesh.

"I would destroy everything for you, my love," his voice is sweet like a summer wind, warm emotions ruffling straight through to your heart. Kayn was everything- the sun, the moon, the stars. In this moment before you share the most intimate of actions, you felt so close to him.

He was being so open after the events that had occurred. You realized perhaps Rhaast was his way of communicating the things he didn't really want to say, and it made you feel warm inside that he was comfortable enough with you to share that side of him.

Your thoughts came to an abrupt stop when Kayn sat up to help you out of your clothes, removing his own swiftly. Your mouth hung open at the sight of him removing the black leather belt from his pants, the corded muscles in his arms flexing as his fingers fumbled with the buckle. When he looked back up at you with a feline gaze, you swore you could see flickers of Rhaast.

He bends, crawling over your squirming frame. The air was thick with tension as he began caressing your body with his large hands. They were rough on your soft skin as he pinched and prodded your nipples, leaning down slowly to suck them one by one.

There was this thing about Kayn- he never stopped watching you. Always looking at your expression, gauging how certain things made you feel. You were so enthralled by the way he looked at you while pleasing you that that alone had your heat rising.

He made his way down your body, peppering kisses and bites as he traveled. Once he reached your front, you hissed in a breath at the first feeling of his tongue on you.

He licked and sucked, his warm tongue caressing everywhere perfectly as he serviced you.

"Fuck, Kayn that feels so good," you moaned, grabbing his hair and tugging- to which he responded with a growl. You knew how that made him feel, and you wanted nothing more than for him to fuck you in that moment. Sure, his mouth felt great, but you knew his cock would feel even better.

He almost became feral, you noticed, as he ceased his movements and sat up, grabbing you and pulling your legs towards him so you were at the edge of the bed.

"You drive me fuckin' crazy baby," his voice gravely, he gripped his thick member, stroking it a few times while looking at you through thick lashes. "I'm going to fuck you, now. Show you who you belong to, right my love?"

"Please Kayn, P-Please fuck me now," you whimpered, your cheeks warm and flushed, a hand caressing your front while the other rested idly by your head.

"I love it when you beg. Only for me, baby. Yeah- fuck," he stammered a bit as he pressed his tip to your entrance, watching his dick become engulfed slowly by your hole. "You're always so gods damned tight for me."

The feeling of his dick had your brain melting, your hand stopping for a moment. Kayn noticed, stopped his movements, and gave you a look.

"Did I tell you to stop, love?" All you could do in response between whimpers was shake your head, and you moved your hand back to keep pleasing yourself as he started picking up the pace. "Gooood, good fucking b/g."

He continued his pace, grunting every few seconds in sync with his thrusts. You rolled your eyes back into your head as you felt yourself climb higher and higher. Kayn leaned down and kissed you passionately, biting your lip as he released you.

"Cum for me, love. I'm not going to last much longer with you gripping me like this. He hissed in his breath as you shuddered and cried out, reaching your climax. Your vision blurred, a few tears dripping down your face as you gripped his forearms.

"Fuck baby- Fuck I'm gonna cum," Kayn groans, whipping his head back. "Take my cum baby, that's it, fuuuuuuck." His hips buck against you as he finds his release and lets out shuttering breaths as he slows to a stop.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you feeling empty but content as he pulls you up further onto the bed and collapses onto the plush mattress.

"Maybe I should get jealous more often if this is how the night ends up," he smiles, and you roll your eyes in response.

"Maybe I shouldn't have rewarded you for that behavior," you giggle, and he scoffs. "Next time let's talk about it first, unless the person you're jealous of actually looks like he is doing something bad?"

"Yeah yeah, I know," now it was his turn to roll his eyes, returning to his normal sassy self for a moment before softening again. "I really am sorry, Y/N. I love you."

"I know you are. Oh and by the way, you may want to save the rest of your apologies for your talk with Yone tomorrow..."

"Shit," was all he responded, shaking his head. "Great... Whatever, he'll get over it. He loves me."

"Yeah, so do I Kayn. So do I," you smile, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight my love."

"Goodnight, baby." He responds, and as when you fall asleep you dream of Kayn and Rhaast and the lovely life you share. Even through the ups and downs he will always be your everything.

[cobaltperun]

Lost (6) - Snap out of it

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 6.8k

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Under a spell you're hypnotized (ooh) Darlin', how could you be so blind?-

Furious didn't even come close to how she was feeling now that she was standing in the empty apartment in Modesto. No one she asked had seen Samantha, the apartment she shared with Richie was exactly the way they left it before they came to Woodsboro, the two plates that neither Samantha or Richie got the chance to wash, as they came to Woodsboro in a rush, the hastily made bed, all the other tiny signs of Samantha being in a rush to get to Tara and only grabbing the bare necessities before leaving. The signs of their shared life were there too, and she wondered for a brief moment how did their relationship look like, and she felt jealous, much more jealous than when she saw you and Tara sleeping together. Tara was hers in a different way, Richie was her lover. "You let them get out of town?!"

"I let them?! I did?!" Richie snapped with anger Amber had never seen before. "If you didn't say we needed to fight Y/N together I could have stayed by Sam's side and prevented this!" and what good did that do? You still survived, all things considered Amber was almost willing to say you came out on top. Hell, fighting you two on one saved their lives, if she was fighting you alone, well, the damage you did was enough of a proof that you would have either killed or severely wounded her.

"Don't you dare put that on me! If I didn't shoot her you'd be beaten to a pulp like some pussy. You had a knife and Tara's fucking guard dog still had the upper hand!" everything was going wrong. She didn't get to kill you, you broke two of her teeth and cracked her mask and everything hurt. Her wrist her, every breath she took hurt, her jaw hurt, her pride and ego hurt and now Richie was whining when he should have stopped Samantha from leaving.

Richie threw his arms up in the air and groaned, as if he couldn’t believe what she was saying. "And you fucked up by not killing her. No, instead you had to mindfuck your," he made air quotes, "girlfriend, and now my movie is going to be ruined because all we did is kill Dewey, a couple of characters no one is going to care about, and some sidenote character related to Stu!"

Killing Dewey felt so, so good, it was a much-needed relief after failing to kill you. "Our movie, you hear me? OUR movie!"

He huffed at that. "Well, none of that matters now, does it? We got Sidney and Gale, but Sam got away and as you can see, she is nowhere to be found! They didn't come here!" Richie was waving his hands around the empty apartment.

That got Amber to think. Samantha took Tara with her, but not to Modesto. You were with them. You took them somewhere. You were ruining her plans, her fun, yet again, but none of those realizations mattered. She had no idea where to look. If anyone would be able to find you right now, Amber figured it would be Tara, but Tara was with you. Were there other people that could take a guess? Maybe the couple that employed you? Your parents? Your coach? All of those would take too long and none of those were certain to be true.

"We need to get Sam to come back," Richie sounded desperate. "You'll have to forget about keeping Tara for yourself. Guess you already did, since you tried to shoot her."

Amber scoffed at that. She'd get Tara in the end. By the time all of this was over she'd permanently take Samantha out of Tara's life, and she'd make sure you were dead as well. Pointing the gun at Tara was an impulsive decision born from righteous fury. Tara pleaded for your life despite having an asthma attack. The old envy reawakened at that moment and the good old 'If I can't have her no one can.' kicked in. Since Tara survived Amber could now convince her that Amber was all Tara would ever have and they'd be together. It would be easy to do it, to convince Tara of that once you were gone, because what else could Tara do in that situation? Give up on her life entirely? As if that would happen. "I'll handle that part. Let's just figure out the way to get Samantha back to Woodsboro."

This would have been so much easier if you were never there in the first place. If you never got close to Tara, if Tara never fell in love with you, if she didn’t love you more than she could ever love anyone else. But Amber would break that, she’d have the upper hand the next time, after all, you were stabbed and shot multiple times, you’d be easy to take out. And then the image Tara had of you, that image of an invincible fighter that could protect her from anything, you being the source of stability and safety in her life would be shattered. After that, Tara would be easy to mold into what she should have been in the first place. Completely devoted and obedient, regardless of Amber did, after all, if Amber could get Tara to get over your death, there truly wouldn’t be any limit.

~X~

If anyone asked you three days ago you'd say you would never be able to go back to Sacramento. You loved the city, you really did, but ever since Zack died you kinda didn't feel like going there. Funny how things turn out sometimes.

Susan lived in a suburban part of the city, in a two-story home that, while not as big as the other houses in the area, still had plenty of space. Memories threatened to consume you as you stepped out of the car and saw the woman. She looked much older than she did ten years ago. And It wasn’t just the passage of time that caused it. You guessed losing her only son like that would have such effects. She looked frailer than ever. The image of a tall, proud woman that just turned forty-three years old was replaced by this decade-older woman with gray hair broken down by time. There was no bounce to her steps, and now that she approached you just as Sam was stepping out of the car you could see that she barely had any spark of life in her eyes.

"You didn't mention you were hurt as well," she touched the bandage on the right side of your face, where Ghostface sliced your jawline.

Somehow you didn't find yourself leaning away from her touch. You accepted it, actually felt comforted by it, and just nodded. "Yeah, sorry about that. It didn't seem important," you brushed it off, doing your best to ignore the disapproval in Susan's eyes. Instead, you took in the surrounding area and your eyes fell on a tall cherry tree in the middle of the empty front yard. "The tree's grown," you mumbled awkwardly, finally getting the woman to smile.

"Of course, I'm making sure of that," the spark of life seemed a bit stronger now.

"I'm glad. This is Sam, by the way," you suddenly realized you failed to introduce them to one another. Sam already took the wheelchair, crutches, and bags out.

"Thank you for letting us stay," Sam expressed her gratitude as she and Susan exchanged a handshake.

"Of course, dear. I'm sorry you went through so much," Susan was still the same person you remembered as a kid, that much you could see, the same kind woman that accepted you despite what you father did. Sure, at first it was because that was what Zack wanted, but over time the bond between you turned into something more personal as well. Before Zack died you almost saw Susan as a mother, she certainly cared more than your own parents.

"Sam, I'll get Tara," you said and went to the other side of the car where Tara was already opening the doors. "I got you," you assured the sleepy girl. She was so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that she adorably fell asleep in your arms while you were on the road.

"Mhm," she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and stretched a bit. "Maybe I could use the crutches?" she suggested but then realized the tiled path to the house wasn't exactly even and that she'd have to deal with more than a couple of stairs. "On second thought," she sheepishly reached out for you.

You smiled, she really was adorable. "I swear you'll get used to this and demand to be carried even after you recover," you teased lightly as you picked her up.

Tara hummed at that and then just leaned up to give you the lightest kiss on the cheek possible. Payback for earlier or not, you couldn't stop the heat warming your cheeks.

A fake cough from the side interrupted whatever Tara was about to say.

"Right. Tara, this is Susan," you awkwardly introduced them to one another.

"I'm sorry I'm meeting you like this, and thank you," Tara twisted her body as well as she could so she could shake Susan's hand.

"Considering how Y/N is, I doubt we could have met in better circumstances," Susan laughed lightly.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at that. "Awesome introductions ladies, how about we get inside now?" just a suggestion, since you were still injured and as much as you hated to admit it, carrying Tara wasn't the easiest at the moment.

~X~

The entire house felt as if it was stuck in the past. As if Susan was trying to preserve the memories of Zack as much as she possibly could. Everything was the same, to the minute details such as the MMA gloves hanging on the wall. Your eyes landed on the only photo you and Zack had together.

Zack was thirteen years older than you and there were remarkably few similarities between the two of you. The opposite hair color, a somewhat shorter build, and the only trait you physically shared was the color of your eyes. That was probably why Susan was so adamant about looking into your eyes since you sat down in the living room.

Susan and Sam took armchairs and you and Tara were on the large sofa. All of you opted for just a glass of water, not exactly feeling like drinking anything else. The tea cakes were on the table, but they remained forgotten as Sam seemed a bit on edge, which in turn put Tara on edge as well. Not to mention Tara was trying not to sit too close to you, she was just near enough to feel your presence.

You felt how tense Tara was, how much she wanted to lean on you, at least a bit, at least to press her side against you. “Say, do you still have the tea Zack used to drink? Was it nettle tea?”

Susan smiled at that. “Of course, and you know, you could use one right now, I’ll go an make you one,” well she either understood what you were trying to do or she just wanted to make it for you. You didn’t pay much attention back when Zack was telling you about it, maybe it was for muscle ache, or something.

“Cool! Thanks!” you’d take the opportunity though. It was what you were trying to do anyway.

“You want some honey?” she asked as she opened the door to her kitchen.

“Sure,” there was no way you’d drink a tea you never tried before without some honey, just to make sure it wasn’t too bitter.

With Susan in the kitchen, you closed the distance between you and Tara and hugged her from the side. “What’s wrong?”

Tara visibly relaxed, leaning into your touch. “Sorry, I’m just thinking,” she looked away, refusing to meet your eyes.

You followed her line of sight and saw that Tara was looking at the photo of you and Zack. You were nine and leaning your weight on Zack as you held a shovel. The freshly planted cherry tree was to your left. You were sure you hadn't grinned that widely ever since he died. She must have noticed Zack’s gloves, and was now piecing it all together. Your reason for fighting, why you kept choosing MMA no matter how much she disliked it.

Susan came back with the cup of tea, she didn’t make the comment about you hugging Tara, or the way Tara leaned against you. She just smiled, handing you the cup and sitting back down.

“Careful, it’s still hot,” she warned.

You chuckled at that and set the cup down. “Yeah, let’s skip burns.”

Susan nodded and then got serious. "Okay, I know you went through a lot and that this might not be comfortable for you all, but I'd like to know what exactly happened to the three of you," Susan's demand was fair as far as you were concerned. While you were sure no one would be able to find you, you probably were putting her in some danger with this.

So, the three of you went and recounted what happened, you didn't go into detail, but Susan got the gist of it. You thought she might be able to provide the three of you with an outside perspective.

"I don't like the timing," Susan seemed lost in her thoughts as she leaned her chin on her hands. "It had to be the 23rd and not a day later, so someone very close to at least one of you two," Susan motioned toward you and Tara. "had to be involved."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, so far you thought the main target was Sam, and while that was still likely the true neither of you thought of at least one Ghostface’s relationship with you or Tara, aside from, well, knowing you.

Susan motioned toward you. "Think of her lifestyle several weeks before fights and roughly a week after the fight," and then it made sense to you.

"I'm at my weakest the first couple of days after the fight," you groaned, removing your arm from Tara and leaning the back of your head against the sofa. There was no way you could have seen this coming, but it was clear whoever attacked Tara chose 23rd for a reason. "I have to lose between ten and twenty pounds before each fight, training is longer and more intense than usual, I get beaten up, then my body cools down and I can't just go back to eating like I normally do right away. I have no energy and I'm in pain. Why not 22nd though? I'd be even weaker than I was today," it was almost surreal to think that it was still the 25th, even if there were only two hours left.

It looked like Tara had an answer to that. "I think I would have invited you in if you took me to my place," ah, there it was. There was a chance she wouldn't be alone. "I didn't plan to do it, but I hadn't seen you in some time and I missed you, so there's a chance I would have done that," she clarified, blushing slightly at the implications of her inviting you that late at night.

"And if you weren't alone," Sam began and then turned to look at you.

You abruptly got up. "I need a moment," you stepped outside the living room before anyone could say anything to you. It was irrational. There was no way you could know. Even if you acted on that bad feeling, maybe that would just delay the killers until your next match and maybe Tara wouldn't be lucky enough to survive and all the what-ifs and maybes swarmed your head as you got out of the house and just took several deep breaths.

But you did have one thing that could have stopped all of this altogether. You could have taken Tara away from that damn house. The moment she turned eighteen you could have tried to convince her to come live with you. A tiny rational voice in your head told you there would still be times when she would be alone in your apartment, like several days you spent away from Woodsboro before each fight. Then there was the fact that you did, in the end choose fighting over Tara, you knew Tara didn’t like that you were an MMA fighter, that it was a big part of the reason as to why you weren’t together, but as you watched the cherry tree you remembered exactly why you couldn’t choose Tara back then.

Now it was different. Now you nearly lost Tara and, suddenly, that bond with Zack felt less important. Still, even if you weren’t an MMA fighter, you couldn’t be home or with Tara all the time. Maybe with it being a building with apartments, someone else would have been capable of getting between her and her attacker.

Who were you kidding? Like that could have ever happened. The security didn’t come after they heard gunshots and someone must have heard them, yet it took Sam and Dewey coming to the hospital for someone to come and help you. So, if someone whose job it was to keep the hospital secure didn’t budge, a random neighbor definitely wouldn’t. Even if you knew, even if you had some vision of the future, you'd never be able to keep Tara completely safe. There would always be some window of time during which she'd have to protect herself.

You can't control everything.

There's only so much you can do.

There's only so far you can push with overprotectiveness before Tara herself gets sick of it.

~X~

Watching you leave like that, while understandable, still stung. Sam didn't mean to make you feel guilty, Tara was sure of that. Tara was also certain you felt guilty on some level regardless of how ridiculously unreasonable that guilt was.

If someone wanted to hurt her, they would have gotten her sooner or later. Instead of considering how you kept her alive, how you made her feel safe and cared for, and how you wouldn't leave her side unless you were forced to, you laser-focused on one moment you weren't with her.

Coming to this place also indirectly revealed something important to her. Guilt gnawed at her when she caught herself thinking that maybe, now that she nearly got killed, you would consider leaving MMA. She pushed that selfish part of her as far away as she could, but looking at the gloves hanging from the wall she felt that guilt come back tenfold.

"Could I ask a question about Zack?" she tried to phrase it as politely as she could and be as clear as possible that she would take no for an answer.

There was a hint of sorrow in Susan's eyes as she nodded. "You can."

"Was he an MMA fighter?" she figured he was, she just wanted to see how far it went.

Susan looked at the gloves somberly. "He was. He managed to fight three times, lost his first fight, won the second, and lost the third, but then his sickness got worse, and he had to quit."

That was the last piece of the puzzle she needed. Tara always had more influence over you than anyone else she knew, but not even she could get you to stop with MMA. Now she understood why you couldn't let it go. She nodded her thanks to the still-grieving mother.

Would her mother be like this if she died? Somehow, she doubted that. "I should probably go to bed," she looked to the side.

"Of course," Susan was more accepting and understanding than her own mother, despite meeting Tara tonight, and that hurt. She couldn't even begin to imagine how you must be feeling. Not only because of your own bad relationship with your parents but also... Well... She noticed how your brother had the same eyes as you, she noticed how Susan looked at your eyes. How did that make you feel? Did you notice? She was sure you did.

At times Tara thought the woman wasn't seeing you, but her dead son, and that hurt Tara. You lost your brother, and you grieved too.

Not wanting to interrupt you or force you to come back to her side pretty much the moment you stepped away she took her crutches and with Sam's help went to the bedroom Susan prepared for the three of you. It was a guest bedroom with two beds, but seeing as she was sleeping with you it worked out just fine.

“Whatever you need, don’t hesitate to ask,” Susan assured Tara as she stood at the doors, they would change bandages in the morning.

Tara nodded her thanks, frankly thankful the woman didn’t mind one bit that you and Tara were this close. She’s seen your father’s reaction. Fuck, that should have made her see something was wrong as well! Ever since she found out about what you went through she’s been remembering bits and pieces that should have clued her in and she felt like shit because of that.

As she thought that Sam helped her get ready for bed. She missed that. She missed having Sam in her life. She missed Sam being caring and gentle with her. She missed Sam always being there.

"I didn't think I'd come back to find you this attached to Y/N, or maybe I should have seen it coming," Sam teased as she helped Tara out of her pants. The cast was making everything difficult. "Not that it’s bad! I fully support you Tara, I just thought, with how physically intimate the two of you are that you'd be together. How come you chose Amber?" Tara figured Sam was trying to catch up on the five years she missed.

"Promise you won't laugh," honestly, Tara regretted that moment, her accepting Amber’s feelings, every time she wanted to kiss you. And she wanted that almost every peaceful moment you two shared since you called her Love. But, she was still in relationship with Amber.

"I'd never laugh at you Tara," Sam reassured her softly.

"I wanted to get Y/N jealous," she mumbled.

"Huh?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"I lied and said I was dating Amber almost a month before I actually started dating Amber. I thought she'd get jealous and confess," Tara explained, but she lightly bit her lip, knowing full well that she wasn’t telling the whole story. Although, looking at it now, she probably should have told you Amber asked her out instead of, you know, that she was already dating Amber.

Sam sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "I’m guessing that’s not the entire reason."

Tara looked away at that and, with Sam’s help, moved to lie down. “Y/N chose fighting, I guess. Back then I thought she didn’t love me back,” she paused, annoyed at the incredulous look on Sam’s face. “Sorry, there wasn’t a life or death situation before this,” she grumbled, blushing and unintentionally guilting Sam into dropping the ‘are you serious?’ expression. “I just… I was immature, I didn’t have the whole picture, I just thought Y/N chose fighting instead of me, despite how often I made it clear I didn’t like seeing her get hurt.”

Sam nodded. “You thought it was just about fighting and didn’t understand why she’d keep doing it if she loved you back,” Sam understood and Tara felt relief at that.

“God, I feel so bad now,” she whispered, angry at herself for making you choose. She had no idea she was making you choose between her and your memory of your brother, but now that she knew… that must have been so painful to you. “I know Y/N wouldn’t say a word, but I still wish I asked more, tried to understand more.”

Sam placed a hand on Tara’s shoulder, and it brought her so much comfort, it eased her worries because Sam was finally back in her life. “You said it yourself, Y/N wouldn’t say a word. Tara, you were a child, you are still just a teenager, you will be immature at times. Trust me, I know all about it,” Sam smiled gently, her eyes were filled with love and understanding and Tara had to reach up and place her hand on top of Sam’s in gratitude.

“Then there was Amber. She… kept saying Y/N would abandon me, that it was only a matter of time, and she just kept repeating that. I don’t know how, but I started believing her when Y/N just let me get together with Amber,” that was her greatest shame, and she was being stupid, she knew that, but Amber was so convincing, so adamant that she was right, that Tara accepted it, allowed Amber to exploit her fears. So, she told Sam everything.

It was a slow process. Before her and Amber got together Amber would complain about you, and Tara would argue back. So, Amber would keep her mouth shut, but that was when they were kids. After you turned eighteen Amber would complain again, and this time, when Tara argued back, Amber would go for silent treatment.

It hurt Tara, because Amber was her close friend back then, only second to you. Add in that you let your parents back then, and that Tara had no idea why, and her insecurities were almost unbearable. So, afraid she’d lose both of you, Tara began arguing less and less, just to avoid Amber’s silence. It was fine, right? She wanted to be loved, and Tara quickly learned that the price of Amber’s love back then was letting her complain about you.

Tara felt awful, she felt awful every time she hugged you, she felt so awful she ended up telling you about it. And you, in a way only you could, told her it was fine. You didn’t care what Amber thought, and you knew Tara needed someone other than you in her life, you didn’t want Tara to get hurt, so, you gave Tara permission to stay silent. To let Amber vent. And it became easier after that.

She should have known it would escalate, but by the time she realized that, she was with Amber and she was going along with Amber’s demands. She agreed to distance herself from you, she agreed to pay the price for Amber’s love yet again.

All the while Sam clenched her fists, shaking in barely controlled anger. “Tara, she manipulated you, she took advantage of your trauma, she conditioned you,” Sam seethed, and Tara was surprised she wasn’t yelling at this point. “This is all my fault. If dad never left then I likely wouldn’t either, and you’d never fear being abandoned so much. I’m so sorry Tara, it’s all my fault,” angry, frustrated tears fell from Sam’s eyes.

Tara sat up, though it was a bit difficult to do so, and hugged Sam. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t make Amber act like that,” she tried to comfort her sister.

“No, but I gave her something she could use,” Sam argued back, pulling away slightly to look Tara in the eyes, and then her eyes widened in something Tara could only describe as horror. "Never trust the love interest, that's what Dewey said."

Tara felt panic setting in. Amber's anger and jealousy toward you. Her insistence on keeping Tara away from you. No, there was no way it was Amber. And then it came back to her. The numerous times Ghostface called her baby, just like Amber did. The conversation with Susan came back, with the way Amber insisted on Tara coming to her place the night of your fight suddenly making even more sense.

The realization hurt more than all the physical pain she went through over the past few days. "It's Amber," her voice cracked as she said that. Everything just faded into the background until Sam reached her and pulled her in.

Sam was a frantic cuddler, as Tara liked to describe people's ways to cuddle. Sam's hands were moving up and down her arms, then she moved so that one hand rubbed circles across Tara's back while the other smoothed her hair. It did little to soothe her this time, but it was nice. It felt nice. It felt warm as opposed to the chilling cold gripping her heart.

Amber did this to her. Amber turned her life upside down. Amber made her distance herself from you, so you wouldn’t be there to protect her. Amber loved her, so she could try to remove you from Tara’s life, so that Tara would be more vulnerable, so that Tara would be easy to target and kill.

Amber made her shoot you.

So, Tara cried, she sobbed and wailed as she clung to Sam as hard as she could. She cried herself to sleep with Sam doing everything she could to comfort her.

For how long did Amber plan to do this? Was she ever jealous in the first place? Tara’s feeling for Amber weren’t as strong as her feelings for you, she’d never love anyone the way she loved you. But Tara still liked Amber, she tried her best to love Amber back, and she was betrayed and forced to hurt you.

~X~

When you came back inside you heard Tara and Sam were upstairs and figured you could stick around for a bit longer. Just to give the sisters a bit of time together until fatigue caught up with you and you'd have no choice but to go upstairs and sleep. So, you sat down, picked up the cup of tea you left behind and took a sip.

It was okay, a bit different than what you were used to, but you could drink it.

"Y/N, how is college going?" Susan's question made you freeze for a moment.

"Uh, I'm not going to college," you looked away, subconsciously glancing upstairs to where Tara and Sam were.

Susan seemed taken aback by that. "How come. You were a smart kid, I doubt that changed."

"I haven't saved up enough money to give it a try yet, and I'm not eager to get into debt unless I absolutely have no other choice," you explained. “Besides, I didn’t want to leave Tara in Woodsboro,” that was another reason, you weren’t in a rush to get a degree so, you could and would just wait until Tara graduated.

Susan frowned and you felt your palms sweat a bit at the way she was studying you. "Money? What about your parents?"

It would make her angry, but you'd still be honest with her. "I cut contact with them when I turned eighteen. It was a mutual agreement, even if it wasn't, it's my life. I'll figure it out on my own."

As you expected there was fury in her eyes. "And Zack's request?"

It was your turn to frown. "Come on. Surely you didn't expect them to honor it," how naive did she have to be to think your parents would listen to Zack, regardless of the nature of his request.

"I'll pay," there was a definitiveness in her tone.

"No, you won't," yet you didn't leave any space for arguments.

"Y/N," there was a warning in her tone, but you were almost conditioned by your parents to never back away from such tones.

"I'm not Zack, Susan," that went too far, it was a low blow, but it sent a clear message. "I get it, you miss him, but giving me what you didn't have a chance to give to him won't happen. I can't let you."

She looked away and you could see she was holding back tears. You could see her shoulders slumping even more. "I know, but it was his final request," she tried.

"He didn't ask you to do it, though. He asked my parents to take good care of me," you argued back as softly as you could. This was why you didn't let Susan know about the extent of your injuries or the heart attack. She'd worry, she'd try to take care of you and, as much as it hurt to admit it, you didn't have it in you to let someone other than Tara get that close to you. It just became a habit you couldn't get rid of, and Tara remained the exception.

“I’m sorry, this wasn’t the time to talk about that,” she apologized, wiping her eyes. “How long have you and Tara been together?” she asked making you chuckle a bit.

Did it really look like that? Who were you kidding, it absolutely looked like that. “We aren’t together, actually,” you saw the surprise on her face. “It’s a bit complicated,” that was an understatement. Despite the feelings there were obstacles at the moment. Tara being in a relationship with Amber being one of them.

Susan stood up and placed a hand on your right shoulder. “She loves you, it’ll work out in the end, you’ll see,” she assured you softly.

“Thanks,” you smiled at her and got up to hug her. It felt good to have her back in your life.

~X~

When you went upstairs you found Tara wide awake, even though Sam was sleeping. “Hey, how come this happened?” you teased her a bit, sitting on her left side and poking her shoulder lightly. The look in Tara’s eyes made your smile drop. “Tara?”

“It’s nothing, just lie down,” she pleaded, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Now that your eyes adjusted to the dim light you saw her eyes were red, she was crying.

You slipped beneath the covers, carefully avoiding her leg and other injuries, and hugged her. “You’ll get through this,” you felt her closing the distance between your bodies as much as your injuries allowed, you felt the desperate grip she had on the back of your shirt, her right fist clenching around it.

“Call me Love again, please, Y/N,” she whispered as you reached up, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

You hesitated a bit, not sure what that meant for her right now, but if she needed to hear you say it, you would. “I’ll call you however you want me to, Love.”

“Say it again,” the request was timid, and you could see the tips of her ears going red.

“Love,” you repeated, you wanted to ask her why she was crying before you came back, you wanted to be sure she was fine, but it didn’t look like you’d get anything out of her right now, so you just tried to relax her, to make her feel safe.

“Again,” her breath mixed with yours, but neither of you moved to close the distance.

“Love,” you brushed your fingers through her hair, her eyes, her soft eyes filled with so much love for you. “My Love,” you whispered, so quietly you worried she might not hear you, but she did and she buried her face in the crook of your neck.

“Yours,” she whispered back, slowly relaxing.

Eventually, she did fall asleep, her head resting on your chest, the soft, even sound of her breathing lulled you to sleep as well. You were safe here, you could relax.

~X~

Later that night, sometime after midnight, Sam struggled to fall asleep, even if she pretended to be asleep before you came in. Tara managed to doze off for a bit before you came in, but she woke up abruptly, and as much as Sam wanted to help her she knew Tara needed you to comfort her, and she feared staying awake might make Tara hold back. Still, anger was burning through her veins. Amber hurt Tara. Amber nearly killed her little sister. Amber downright psychologically tortured Tara. Amber forced Tara to shoot you. Amber betrayed Tara's love.

Amber was going to pay.

With that thought in mind Sam sat up, careful not to wake you or Tara up.

"That's it, Sam, let's go make the bitch pay! Cut her throat and carve her up!" she saw him in the mirror, she knew she should fight it, she knew she shouldn't give in. That she shouldn't be bloodthirsty.

This time was different.

The enemy was no longer a masked, faceless killer who tried to kill her sister. It was an actual person. She had one of the targets. She wouldn't let anyone else hurt Tara.

"That's it! That's my daughter," the monster she was trying to get out of her head cheered as she grabbed your car keys.

~X~

The annoying sound of your phone ringing pulled you out of your peaceful slumber. Tara groaned, pulling the blanket above her head in an attempt to get back to sleep. By some miracle, you managed to reach your phone without making Tara move from her spot in your arms and rejected the call.

Almost immediately it began ringing again. "Who dares call at this hour?! What time is it anyway?" you hissed and finally answered your phone. "What?" you couldn't care who it was.

"Why are you coming back to Woodsboro?" that didn't make any sense.

"Huh? What are you talking about? Who even are you?" you were beyond confused.

"Listen, kid, your car is on the way back to Woodsboro, I put a tracker on it when you left, so don't try to fool me," the woman spoke and you were wide awake. You sat up, pulling Tara with you. You felt your heart sinking when you looked to the side and saw an empty bed. Sam was gone.

"Sam took it," those three words accomplished plenty of things, they woke Tara up, they made the woman talking to you curse loudly, and made you hope Susan's car was good to go. "How much of a head start does Sam have?" it was only at that moment that you truly realized what the tracker meant. What if Ghostface placed a tracker on your car as well?

"Considering where she is, I'd say an hour."

Shit, even if you rushed there was a high possibility she'd still get to wherever she was going way before you. "Thanks for calling. I'm going after her," you'd think about who was on the phone with you later.

You hung up and began getting dressed.

"Sam left?" Tara was sitting up, looking almost catatonic for a moment.

"She’s going back to Woodsboro," you wanted to help her, but the best thing you could do for Tara right now was make sure Sam was safe.

Tara grabbed your wrist and you saw the fear in her eyes. Was she afraid Sam was leaving her again?

"She went after Amber, Amber is one of the Ghostfaces," Tara revealed, her voice filled with anguish, and you saw red at the new information.

'God damn it, Sam, you better not kill Amber before I get there,' you thought.

~X~

Just for a moment Amber thought that maybe there really was something wrong with her. She watched her friends, Chad, Mindy, and Liv, drugged, unconscious, ready to be cut up to lure Sam back to Woodsboro. She’s known them for years, ever since she was a child. She knew Wes as well, she knew Tara. She loved Tara. She loved having Tara, making Tara unconditionally hers was the thrill only second to this.

But she didn’t feel any regret, just a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction at the power she had. Maybe there really was something wrong with her, but she felt good, she felt like she had a purpose, something bigger than her, something grander than just one person. She was a fan that was turned into a star of her favorite fandom. Stu to Richie’s Billy.

So, what if she was a bit unhinged, if she lost it a bit as she stabbed Liv. Liv wasn’t screaming, she wasn’t fighting back, so maybe she really did go too far with her. Maybe she hit a vital organ in her excitement. It was so easy, much easier than when she went after Tara, much less painful than trying to kill you. It wasn’t as thrilling though.

She should wait until Chad and Mindy regained consciousness.

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[starberry-cupcake]

Hello, I haven't had time to read as much as I would want but I'm here with an update regardless, because if I don't keep these constant, I'm gonna forget things and this, so far, seems like a book in which I don't wanna forget things.

previously, in harrowbean the ninth:

this happened

currently, after "parodos" and ch. 1:

so I'm making up a timeline in my head with the information at hand

which is never straightforward

that'd be too easy, here in tlt we like to be kept on our toes

we like to be punched in the gut when we least expect it

so get ready for bad math

this would probably make our good friend palmolive atreides weep

I'm sorry palomilve's force ghost, I'm doing my best

SO

the first entry was the night of the emperor being terminated

the "parodos" bit (we'll get to that) is 14 months before the emperor is snuffed out

ch. 1 is nine months before the emperor kicks the bucket

I believe act 1 is going to be happening around that time, since ch. 2 seems to be following without another indication

because of what happens in "parodos" aka flashback, aka prologue 2: elecric bogaloo, we can attempt to estimate when the events of gideon happened

harrowbean tells ortus in the flashback that he's gonna train with aiglamene for 12 weeks

let's assume that's kind of the amount of time gideon trained, plus the time it took harrow to plot how to girlsplain, gatekeep and gaslight gideon into it

the only one girlbossing here is camilla, I don't make the rules

so, if gideon and harrow were ready to leave the ninth somewhere around 2-3 months after the flashback, it'd be circa 11 months before the events in the prologue

and ch. 1 starts 9 months before the events in the prologue

so gideon might have happened somewhere around 11-10 months before the prologue

I can't tell how long they were in canaan house (it felt like 12 years and 5 minutes at the same time) but I think about a month is mostly right, given that once bodies start dropping, things are all happening together

all of this is relative, since time in space is ????

but I need to do this for my own peace of mind

if you give me time measurements I'm gonna measure, ok?

I need to organize things

I know I will end up making a graphic at some point I just know it

this is what I get for calling palmolive a turbonerd

ANYWAY, MOVING ON

or, moving back, since we're in prologue 2: electric bogaloo aka flashback time

here we have ortus (the one we knew, not the one we will get to know, according to the characters list) telling harrow he doesn't wanna go to the field trip

this is ortus

if you're wondering why I don't nickname ortus, I'll repeat myself but "orto" means "ass" where I'm from, so that's enough to remember him by

harrow is like "I know you're underqualified but we're understaffed, so it is what it is"

the important part is that harrowbean says she sees the barbie in the freezer walking about

like a ghost or whatnot

she refers to her as "the body" and I assume that's barbie in the ice cube because someone reblogged my recap where I mentioned her and tagged

ever since then I've been wondering why she was referred to as The Body and now I'm gonna assume this is it

so harrow tells ortus he needs to hide the fact that she's mentally unstable

[non funny side note: masking is unbearable and it's awful we live in a social and cultural environment where we feel pressured to do it, especially when you're an adult having to fulfill expectations of supposedly "age-specific" activities and responsibilities, it's exhausting and I cried about that in therapy a mere week ago so, hitting hard, this bit

don't let people make you feel "less than" because the way in which you navigate the world and your experiences is different from what's expected in some theoretical socially constructed category

and fuck everyone who, in order to put people down in arguments online, ever make fun of those who aren't mentally, economically or socially as independent as what the category of an adult is supposed to be to them

argue with concepts, argue with opinions and facts, don't tear people down in the name of "moral upper hand" by telling people they're losers for needing help

side note done]

so, harrow entered the whole canaan thing not only carrying the weight of her house, her family and her entire people

she also came into it believing she's not mentally sound and seeing The Body walking around unnoticed by other people

whether or not her visions are mentally unsettled or something that actually happens because she opened the tomb, just the whole situation of her birth is enough to make anyone collapse, so we got you, harrowbean

we're here for you

and all that without mentioning what it'd be like seeing your girlfriend cavalier impale herself in front of you

I'm taking liberties with the 'girlfriend' bit but idk

so, next we know, 5 months have passed from that and harrowcita is struggling in her new environment of the clown emperor's ship

she is made to carry gideon's sword and she can't

she can't seem to know what to do or to communicate with said knowledge and she's throwing up a lot

WHICH IS GREAT!!!!!

I mean, it's not great that she's suffering

but it's GREAT because if she can't communicate with gideon's slurped soul, maybe it means gideon's soul has not been slurped AT ALL

more fuel for my wishful thinking of gideon's soul returning to her and getting regenerated and saved and being alive

I also like very much this situation in which harrow sees the sword as personified and they hate each other without gideon

it's like prim's cat in the hunger games with katniss

but with an inanimate object

I'm really liking that dynamic

is like they both miss her and can't relate to each other

ALSO barbie body ice cube is still there

just chillin' and being silently supportive, I think

not sure what her deal is but what if she's not the bad one here? because this emperor kind of sucks tbh

not in a 'he's evil' way but in a 'idk if he know what he's doing' way

I don't know about this guy tbh

so we're leaving off with harrow being mentally and physically struggling, ghost barbie roamin' the rooms, voices of people organizing stock and gideon in my head like this, walking in limbo to get back to us

also, another day without camilla

I thought I wasn't gonna have much to say and this is so long, I'm so sorry...

[rainybubbles]

When COD men realize their crush on you

Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz, Alejandro

Part 1 if you want more context to understand

G H O S T

Remind : you're a cashier and a strange man came every day at 2AM to buy ropes.

-After questioning if this masked man was here to hurt you or just to do some things with the ropes he bought, you have started a staring contest with him.

-Which was a bad idea because he didn't blink.

-At all.

-Which was scary.

-But you acknowledged your defeats, each time, by letting your employee discount to him on the ropes.

-It's not like you'll need one.

-Isn't it ?

-It was entertaining for the both of you, this little challenge when he was entering in the shop, and the small talk when he made his purchase.

-(It was more him nodding while you said "hi" but...yeah it's a talk.)

-But what is worse than one client buying rope and scissors at 2 am ?

-Two clients doing it.

-An another man did the same thing but with some knives and ropes.

-The first thing that came to your mind was "what is going on in this fucking town ?"

-And...

-"Sir, is there any bondage club you go with this guy ?"

-...yeah.

-It was the only solution to buy this much ropes.

-Or maybe he was his twin ?

-But the only answer Ghost gave you was a frown of his eyebrows.

-He seemed a little worried.

-You laughed trying to clear up the mood because it was clear your joke wasn't funny to him at all.

-And...

-Ghost disappeared.

-Guess he's not scared about killing people or doing stare contest with you but a bad joke could make him run away.

-Damn, you felt like you were back to 12 during school where just being yourself felt like a burn.

-You fucked up the only thing that distracted you a little.

-But Y/N remind the other guy ?

-Yeah knives one.

-He...-Unlike Ghost he gave you bad chills.

-He was smiling at you, asking you personal questions that feels too personal.

-Such as your hand size or even if you have good relationship with your family.

-You tried being professional, ignoring him.

-But slowly you had the impression he was everywhere you go.

-So...you quit.

-And you found a job in a pet shop.

-It was okay.

-That was the problem.

-It was okay.

-And not...weird or fun like your little meetings with Ghost were.

-One morning while you started your shift, you saw on the checkout 2kg of rat poison.

-You stared the thing because how many cold cases did you have seen with this poison ?

-You looked up slowly and...

-"Fuck Sir. I don't know if I should worry about you or me at this point"

-"Good to see you again, Y/N" Ghost said.

-You smiled.

-"Yeah. Good to see you again too."

-You didn't know what to say, so you let him pay.

-But when your shift ended, you saw a figure with a mask.

-"So you're here to wait for your victim, or are you so impatient to see me again ?"

-"Who said you're not my victim ?"

-"...my mom"

-"I didn't meet her."

-"Me too and well, now we have a common point so you can't kill me."

-"That-" he sighed."That's not how it works you know ?"

-"It seems to work for me, I'm still breathing."

-"...you're a case Y/N."

-"I know, I mean it seems like men with an obsession rope are attracted to me. "

-"Men ?" he repeated, hearing the plural.

-"Yeah the other guy he...he was kind of a creep. That's why I'm here now. "

-He seemed to think about it.

-"Do you want me to go home with you ?", he asked, worry to let you alone.

-"That's sound creepy you know."

-"That's why I ask, if you don't want to, I'm leaving."

-You stared at him.

-"I...I would love to but-"

-"I understand." he said cutting you

-"Wait, let me finish. I would love to but actually I'm fucking hungry so I don't plan to go home. I want to buy some food."

-"Okay."

-"But Thursday I'm free if you know, you want to become my personal bodyguard and disappear again mysteriously."

-He nodded.

-He didn't know how he felt about you.

-But one thing was sure, when he was at the base he was searching for one thing : your eyes.

-And just this tells him it was to late to step back.

S O A P :

-So after complimenting your father's ass in French, he ended up to ask you if you could teach him

French.

-But you're not a charity.

-So you said that if he wanted some French lessons, he had to give you something.

-In reality you just think about some food, like his dessert because the military food was not the best except the biscuits.

-But he proposed some anecdotes.

-About his team.

-Each lesson will be about one secret about the 141.

-You could have said, "no, Soap, it's too private and we're professional."

-Yeah.

-But you're Y/N.

-A human.

-Who loves gossips.

-So you accepted.

-And slowly every night after you taught him French, you learned how Price ended up in underwear on a roof in Siberia, or how Ghost almost married a grandma accidentally during an infiltration, or Gaz became bald when he tried bleaching his hair.

-It was cozy.

-Those nights were the best.

-You were chatting next to a fire, while the Scottish man was narrating you with his accent and gestures his stories.

-You had this impression to be in those teen movies where the guy seduces the main character with his guitar on the beach near to a camp fire.

-Except that you were on a military basis, with Ghost checking you (or intimidating you, you couldn’t tell).

-And the only music was Price's snore and some soldiers farts.

-Which by the way could awaking a dead.

-Yeah, it was fun for the both of you.

-Until the sounds of your laugh were replaced by the silence.

-You were only a translator.

-And your mission was done.

-So you left.

-And Soap turned out to be alone again during those nights.

-He's not alone in fact.

-The 141 is here.

-But he feels lonesome.

-During his insomnias he could find you and pretend he had one more story he had absolutely to tell you, while in reality he just wanted to hear your laugh to feel this...this peace. But you’re not here anymore.

-Hearing you was like....like peace, yeah. He didn't have any other words to describe it.

-"I should call them, isn't it ?" he murmured to himself.

-"If you don't. I'll kill them. Nobody alive should know about Giselle." Ghost answered.

-Soap smiled.

-"You just say that because you miss them too L.T. "

-Yeah, he should definitely call you.

P R I C E :

-A child.

-It was a child they saved during a mission and that you had patched up, he looked at him and-

-"You suck at being nice with them. I'm going marrying them before you."

-Price blinked his eyes.

-"Someone seems to have competition here." Gaz joked.

-Price just stared the kid.

-His first thought was "Language, kid."

-And...

-Was he so obvious ?

-He knew he had something for you.

-He's not that stubborn to deny an attraction.

-But he also knew that involving someone in his life will be complicated.

-So he didn't do anything to show his feelings.

-But it seems that even an unknown 8y.o kid could tell he likes you.

-"You know what kid ? Yeah I suck at this. But even if I did, just see them smile at me is enough to highlight my day."

-The little boy was surprised at this confession.

-"I could help you, I mean....I got my best friends wedded at school, so I'm kinda a love expert." he said self-confident.

-"Is that so ?" Price smiled, amused by him

-"Yeah. The first thing is giving a gift. Thomas, my best friend he gave Leo some Pokemon cards and he had a hug. Maybe if you do the same, Y/N will hug you."

-Gaz and Soap laughed their ass off as the kid continues listing his techniques.

-But...the next day you found at your office some Pokemon cards.

-And chocolates.

-With a little note.

-Maybe Price should let himself expressing as openly his feelings as this kid express honestly his thoughts.

(even though the Pokemon cards were not his, Soap and Gaz just found it funny to put them when they saw the chocolates)

G A Z

-After your kiss undercover, you didn't see each other.

-You didn't talk about it even if you both had dreams about it.

-And time passed.

-And on this Tuesday morning while you were chatting with your neighbor, because you finally came back home, she decided to set you up on a blind date.

-Telling she had a wonderful grandson, kind, nice and-

-You said yes.

-And you regretted it.

-Because her grandson was undoubtedly the stereotype of the "nice guy" who complained how nobody loves a nice guy nowadays.

-You tried giving him a chance, but the longer the dinner went, the longer you wanted to strangle him or beat him up between the cookies and the turkey.

-"I think they had to leave, sir," a voice said.

-Your date frowned his brows.

-"No I don't think so, we're only at the starter !" he answered to the waiter.

-You didn't listen.

-Your eyes were glued to the said waiter who was none other that Gaz himself.

-"I promised you; we have a call by their mother. They have to go at the hospital, so please stop shouting."

-"I DIDN'T SCREAM, AND I'M SURE YOU'RE LYING BECAUSE YOU'RE A JEALOUS -ASSHOLE. THEIR MOTHER COULD WAIT, WE'RE HAVING A FUCKING DATE"

-Well.

-Remember the turkey.

-He ate it.

-By his nose.

-You stood up and punched him.

-"Fucking finally, I don't hear your shitty thoughts anymore." you sighed of relief.

-Gaz smirked while you both left the restaurant.

-"I guess it's a mission?," you asked.

-"Yes, we tried to contact you, but you didn't answer."

-"He took my phone saying "it's only us", kinda romantic at first until he starts speaking."

-"He didn't want you to runaway." Gaz realized.

-"Scary."

-He nodded.

-You walked with him at the car waiting for you with your baggages already there.

-"I'm surprised you didn't make any jokes about the turkey.", you asked.

-"Because I was too concentrated on the fact that I was kinda relieved, your date was..."

-"Shitty? Horrible? Terrible?"

-"I would say, "not good", but yeah," he admitted.

-"Want to take me on a good date then, Garrick ?" you asked with a smirk.

-"Yeah. But no kiss at the first date, sorry Y/N.", he joked

-"Too bad we already kiss then." you answered with the same irony.

-"Yeah it seems we have to kiss again on the first date.",

-"Wow that's so terrible, I don't know if I could survive."

-"Wait after the mission to know."

-"Just don't bring a turkey." you said.

-"Promise, I don't."

-He did it, he brought a fucking turkey.

-And he asked Price how to cook one, just to mock you during your date.

A L E J A N D R O :

-Through reports.

-After you put microphones on him, the mission ended. And you had to complete the list of what you had used, how did it worked, in order to help the company to improve the equipment and the gear.

-Little do you know this report also went to Alejandro's desk, who saw the occasion to thank you for your hard work.

-You replied with a note, saying it was your job.

-He answered you could have said no and...

-Every mission you had together ended up with some exchanges through your reports.

-But only through papers...

-Because when you were seeing him on the base, you were unable to put words without stuttering, or even talking to him like a human being. Too anxious to approach him.

-And it was okay.

-You had a friendship with the Alejandro Vargas that you had seen in a bunny outfit, and it was perfectly okay.

-Yeah.

-But your brain decided to make up some scenarios.

-You were already attracted to him.

-He's gorgeous.

-But now you knew him a little bit more.

-And you were fucked.

-That's why on the last report. You decided to imitate your dad : you ran away and bought milk.

-Cut everything to put some distance.

-You accepted a mission on another basis and...

-And that's how you were supposed to stop feeling this sparkle about him.

-But you didn't.

-And now it was too late to try to even pursue your friendship with him with what you had done.

-"I fucked up," you whispered to yourself while you were listening to a military audio you had to write down.

-"Well, if it's not our favorite technician," a raspy voice said suddenly to your ears.

-Awoop.

-Jumpscare.

-You felt down and looked up to see the 141, Alejandro and Rudy.

-"What the fuck is happening, why are you in France-"

-"We worked with this unit. We have an enemy in common who is helping the cartel. After we had all we want, Alejandro will interrogate him to have information about the relationship they had with the cartel." Lasswell explained.

-You nodded.

-You didn't know what else you could do.

-Until you felt something on your wrist.

-' Mind if we talk, cielo ?"

-Yes.

-But you just nodded again and followed him, ready to be eaten up alive.

-"Listen Alejandro; I didn't want to be an asshole, I fucked up and-"

-He interrupted you.

-"Calmos. You had your reasons. and-"

-"And there was no reason, I was just scared." you interrupted him.

-"Scared ?" he asked.

-"Yes, I...I had a crush on you. And all the crushes I had didn't end well. I mean the last one dies, before he had a fiancé, before this before they used me to make jealous his ex and before this before and this before he said I was only a 4/10 and-"

-"They're just fucking pendejos."

-"Except the one who dies." you corrected him

-"Except the one who dies, I guess. But it's not because it happened, that it will be like that again."

-"Please Alejandro, you're like...Like a main character of a badass series. And I'm..."

-"The main character of a badass series too, cielo. I wanted to ask you on a date since day one. Rudy stops me because you were a civilian."

-"I work with military every day."

-"I know, but I have to make sure you knew the life we lived if we start a relationship. I wanted to know you before starting something."

-"And when I ran away, you-"

-"I had bought roses to ask you on a date, the day you left."

-"...fuck." you said realizing the consequences of your actions

-He laughed.

-"Yeah you can say that. But I was sure that if you did something like this, it was probably because you thought about it."

-"Well, surprise I'm not clever. I'm just a wimp."

-"We called that un gallina."

-"Well a gallina, then. I'm sorry for the roses, the reports and everything really."

-"You could make it up, if you accept the roses, cielo, you know ?."

-You opened your eyes wide.

-"Wait you-"

-"When I like someone, it's with my whole heart, cielo. So yes, I still want a date."

-"...how am I this lucky?"

-" I could say the same."

-You laughed.

-"Yeah, I- Yes I would love a date with you Alejandro."

Sorry for the mistakes, English and Spanish are not my mother tongue :(!

If you want more : my masterlist

[thatoneguydownthestreet]

Yo! I really love your apocalypse yuu writings I keep coming back to see if it has updated.

I read the Lilia finds out part and when I read the "Epel gave Yuu an apple and he didn't know what it was" it got me thinking about it all night.

How would the first years react to Yuu not eating anything at all(probably other than bread) because he doesn't know what those foods are?

________________________________

FEM ALIGNED DNI

Yuus pronouns are he/him, although they're mentioned briefly

This is barely proofread so please excuse the grammar mistakes.

Featuring: Epel, Ace, Duece, Jack, and sebek (there is implied lilia at the very end but it is literally one sentence)

Warnings: Talks of starvation, Yuu's illness, and survivers guilt, so skip this if you're uncomfortable with any of that.

Also I know it's been over a month. I have no excuse. I just didn't feel like it. But I have been teaching myself how to draw so I can be a bigger simp to Jamil so that's fun ig.

________________________________

Damn bro, you really don't know shit huh?

Epel was excited, to say the least.

I mean, could you really blame him? It's not everyday that you get a big ol' crate full of the apples that you were raised with.

By all means, epel should've been long sick of eating apples. Having them almost everyday for majority of his life, dried and dehydrated in the winter, and fresh and juicy in the spring and summer.

But no, no epel felmeir loves those apples. Every single one he ate seemed to effortlessly send him back to the simpler times of his childhood. Where he would send hours upon hours avoiding his siblings and playing games with his cousins in the orchards and taking naps in the sun while he waited for his meemaws infamous apple pies to finish baking. And meemaw would almost always let him have the first slice! Of the ones she wasn't going to sell at least.

He really missed her...

He'd have to ask her to bake him another one this winter.

But just getting to read the letter she had wrote, along with his parents and one of the towns kids that always followed him around like a lost baby duck, put a smile on his face.

Yeah. He'd get to see them soon, and once he graduates, he can get them more money, and be strong enough to protect them if it ever came to that.

Unfortunately, as great as his parents apples were, they couldn't fight the natural forces of time.

Dear sevens- they'd sent him nearly three dozen apples! All high quality too... it shouldn't effect sales too much. The orchards were big, and his parents would rather give up that expensive family heir loom necklace that his mother always wore than start selling spoiled apples.

But still, epel couldn't possibly eat thirty-six apples before they all started to rot. Plus, he didn't know how long they took to ship to the isle of sages, so that cut the time frame even shorter.

.....Does Jack like apples?

Should he even be considering giving Jack an apple to begin with? Their relationship was pretty vague. We're they actually friends or just study buddies?

Study buddies can give eachother gifts too right? And plus, it's food, not a 24 carrot gold ring or something crazy like that.

It should be fine. Maybe he'll give one to ace too. They were friends. Surely.

.

.

.

Ace trappola would say he was a good friend. I mean, he wasn't the best by any means, but he was decent.

Yeah, he could be kind of a dick. But who isn't at this point, honestly, even deuce, even cater had their moments.

But he was still someone the people in his life could go to for things, usually physically, tangible this like food or an extra ball or something, but he wasn't completely useless when it came to emotions either.

You could come to him if something was bothering you. He probably won't help you actually fix it but he can at least make you laugh.

So why didn't you want to laugh?

You had taken your mask off a few weeks ago. And like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on him he realized it was the first time he ever saw you eat any food here at all.

Were you eating at all before then? What about water?

Thank the seven you were only here for around a week. But surely, you were dehydrated.

(You were definitely dehydrated. Deuce gave you a water bottle and you chugged it like it was your only chance at life. Which, to be fair, it probably was your only chance at life.)

Ace didn't know what your life was like before.

Ace didn't want to know either.

He didn't do well with heavy topics, always changing the subject when one came up unless he was personally involved in some way.

Other people life didn't concern him, and that was something he lived by.

...but still.

This was going a bit too far, don't you think?

Ace shot a look to deuce, clear concern instead of the regular teasing, which caught his roomates attention faster than he thought it would.

Ok. So deuce had noticed too.

Just goes to show how obvious it was that something is very wrong here.

Now, because ace had never asked, and he probably never will, he didn't know what your relationship with food was like before you came here. But. It couldn't have been this right?

A person couldn't only survive on some bread and room temperature water, right?

You sat across from him at your guy's unofficial table in the cafeteria, drinking the water at a moderate pace, as you didn't want to deal with another scolding from a certain housewarden, doing your best to keep a careful eye on grim as he went to go get his food from the lunch line.

And thank the seven for that, really. If grim turned back and saw that you weren't watching him for even a second, who knows that kind of ruckus would result?

But all that aside, you were still scarily underweight. Seriously perfect, how were you even alive?

Ace looked at deuce again. Deuce looked back.

He sighed.

Ace never, ever thought he would do something like this.

But for sevens sake, you were one of his best friends. And Ace will be damned if he just let you do this to yourself.

So with a deep breathe, he looked at you, and then turned back to what he was pretty sure was an ex-gang member, and nodded.

And for once, deuce understood.

They had to do something.

.

.

.

You reminded Deuce Spade of that stray cat that his mother would always feed when he was a child.

Underweight, scared, scarred, and confused.

Always having an air if caution and paranoia, ready to react, as if anything could just jump out and grab you at any time.

But you weren't a cat, were you?

No. You were a person. Someone his age, maybe younger, that had obviously seen horrors he couldn't even understand. Which just made this whole situation even sadder.

Because if you lived like this, then what the hell was stopping him? What about his mother? What was stopping her from having the same fate?

Duece ignored the memories of his mother giving him food and taking none for herself, saying she wasn't hungry.

But he couldn't quite ignore them, nor could he ignore the pit in his stomach whenever he looked at you.

...Listen perfect, he doesn't know what you went through to be like this, but he knows damn well this isn't normal.

It can't be normal. Hiding this much food underneath your floorboards couldn't ever be normal.

The two of you were just hanging out in your room in Ramshakle. Grim was in the lounge, he was sure, and you had stared off into space before asking the date.

When he told you, you had a look of slight panic as you ripped the rug off from its place on the floor, and started pulling apart the boards.

And what for?

The reveal of a large stash of food, mostly non-perishables, but a few snacks here and there too.

Snacks that were about to expire, apparently.

You turned to look back at him, a sheepish look on your face, and what looked like a bag if chips in your hand.

Deuce didn't know what face he was making.

He just knew it wasn't one he'd want you to see

.

.

.

If someone were to ask Jack howl if he was your friend. He wouldn't know to to say.

I mean yeah, you helped save his entire dorms ass way back when, yeah, you and him absolutely went throught it during azuls little "episode", and yeah, the two of you had plenty of mutual friends.

But we're the two of you friends?

Jack wasn't sure.

Because by all accounts, you should be.

It didn't change the fact that you weren't. Not really. Not by his definition and not by yours.

So what were you?

Well, you weren't friends. That was already established. And you were too close to be acquaintances (he didn't think acquaintance fell asleep on each other in the botanical gardens, only to wake up five minutes till curfew and just haul ass back to their respective dorms with smiles on their faces), so...what did that leave?

Well... I guess it left this.

"Eat it"

"....huh?"

Jack didn't know you that well. But that didn't mean he couldn't see..this happening. And it definitely didn't mean he didn't care.

So here he was. Holding a pastrami sandwich about an inch away from your face, silently begging you to just shut up and eat it.

Come on perfect, he bought this with his own money. Just humor him, please.

You eyed the sandwich like it was the most untrustworthy thing you'd ever seen. Jack's not going to lie, it kind of hurt.

But it wouldn't matter if you ate it, so he sucked it up.

...at least he would if you'd actually take the fucking sandwich.

Seriously, it was starting to tick him off.

Jack briefly considered just varying off and giving the sandwich to ruggie or something, or just eating it himself. He wasn't the biggest fan of pastrami but who knows, maybe the school made it better.

Honestly, he probably would have done just that if the image if you leaning against the wall looking ready to pass out from, what he knew, was malnutrition.

The event itself actually happened around two weeks ago, give or take. Jack thinks the only real reason he remembers it so well is because, well, it was the moment.

The defining moment, the moment where it just clicked that something was very wrong here.

He already knew that of course, I mean, look at you.

But as it turns out, watching someone actively starve to death in front of you will keep you up at night.

His mind turned to ruggie for a split second, before forcibly shoving that thought down where all the other thoughts he didn't want to think about were.

Like that time when he was a kid with a crush on Vil....yeah, Jack's happy he got o er that one to say the least. Nothing against Vil, he's a great friend and all (they were friends right?), but them in a relationship? Yeah. No. Not happening. No thankyou.

...yeah.

Jack mentally slapped hi.self and proceeded to shove his weird thoughts down yet again and refocus on getting his not-quite-friend to eat.

You were leaning back a lot farther than you were a second ago, if you did that anymore you'd probably just end up on the ground.

...jack sighed. This was going to take a while wasn't it?

By the end of the lunch period, you had come to a compromise, jack you slip the sandwich with you and take the other half for himself.

You ended up splitting your half with grim, who reluctantly took it. You had actually eaten yours too!...after you took the while thing apart and inspected and obsessed over it like how he'd seen Rook do to his housewardens that one time!

But still, it was something.

It was a start. And that's really all he could ask for at this point.

.

.

.

Sebek didn't notice anything about you at first. And he didn't particularly care much either. He was a guard for sevens sake! He had a deep responsibility!

He had a crown prince, that he oh so admired, to protect! Not to mention silver, who he had to wake up at every given turn, and not to mention Lilia, who had recently been going harder on their training sessions.

So to waste his time with a human? With a weak little human that didn't even come close to his current list if priorities?

That's time he simply did not have!

...So why was he here?

He was supposed to be looking for his charge. His charge, who always seemed to wind up around the old, abandoned Ramshakle building and just dissappear in the nick of time.

It had been happening more and more lately, especially since that new perfect moved in.

He would be lying if he said he cared too much about him. Again, he didn't have time to be curious about some strange human boy with some strange past.

But still, he couldn't quite contain the way he jumped back when he'd first seen them.

Whoever he was, he looked so...sick.

...he didn't have time for this.

Turning back on his heel, he refocused his mind on finding his lord again, and quickl- wait- silver. Oh great sevens. Silver wake up!

Ok. Sebek really didn't have time for this.

...and yet.

Here he was, standing next to you, arms out ready to catch you at a moments notice if you really were going to collapse like he thought you were.

He hadn't been this close to you before.

And now he could see that you weren't just sick.

Great seven, you looked like you were dying...

Sebek zigbolt had always known humans were weak, fragile creatures. Never able to even light a candle next to faeries. Never able to light a candle next to him, and certainly not his young master.

But this was just pushing it.

Sebek was stronger than his human counterparts. He would long outlive them. He thought of silver for the shortest second and then quickly pushed that thought to the side. This was not the time. Buteven with those facts, sebek still knew that humans weren't made of fine glass. Even if the people in his homeland liked to act like it, Sebek still knew that humanity wasn't completely hopeless.

One strong gust of wind wouldn't knock them over.

One missed meal wasn't enough to do detrimental damage to their health.

Pulling one all nighter would barely put a dent in their day to day lives, aside from the obvious fatigue and.

But with you?

With you? Alwats looking like you could kneel over and die then and there on the classroom floor?

...

Sebek want so sure anymore.

.

.

.

Epel had eaten more apples than any normal person should ever be able to eat.

Sevens help him, his stomach.

Despite the waves of pain that shit through him every now and then, epel wasn't mad.

Yeah, maybe eating a whole eight apples in the span of two hours wasn't his smartest idea, but the sweet nostalgia that seemed to wash over him and warm his very soul? Yeah no, it was worth it.

So no. Epel felmeir wasn't mad.

And laying in a bed that was much too soft for his taste, a direct contrast from the slightly itchy blankets and the hard mattresses back home, epel glance over to the almost empty crate of apples that were sitting just under his work desk.

...As much as Epel wanted to eat them, he wanted to do this even more.

Epel sat up, ignoring his stomach pain the best he could, and began a mental list of all the people he knew. And then a silent debate over who deserved his families apples in the first place.

Ok. First up Ace.

Epel would say they were friends. Not close friends by any means, but friends nonetheless.

Epel could give him one.

Next was Jack.

...In all honesty, epel didn't know. We're they friends, or just simply homework buddies that occasionally hung out?

...he could spare one for Jack, maybe they'd be friends then if they weren't already.

Duece.

Yes. Just- just yes. That day on the beach had changed their relationship forever. Duece was like a brother to him at this point.

He was goddamn getting an apple.

Epel chuckled a little at the realization that he was treating this like one of those elimination gameshows his meemaw liked.

Ok...he had two apples left after that.

Sebek wasn't really his friend was he? He certainly didn't make it seem like he was. If anything, Sebek was trying his damnedest to make them all belive the exact opposite, really.

....maybe he should just give the apple to Rook.

Or Vil.

Maybe.

Ok. He has one apple left.

The two of you weren't really friends. But you were friendly. If nothing else, you had been nothing but kind to him so far.

And plus, you looked uh. Half dead. To put it nicely.

And so, with a smile on his face, epel took out the crate of apples and began placing them on a bag that would make them easier to carry around tomorrow.

He couldn't wait.

.

.

.

It's funny how your whole life can change in a single moment, especially when you don't even know what that moment was.

Why were you here? Where is here anyway? Surely, magic didn't exist right?

The air wasn't always this clean right?

Water wasn't readily available at the turn of a handle right?

People didnt...people werent...weren't....

Heh. Heheha.

Why.

Why were you here?

Why were you here?

Why you and not one of the kids? What the hell have you ever done but use up medical supplies in a fruitless effort to keep you alive.

Why was this world so...pretty. happy. Clean.

Why this world and not your own? What had this world ever done to deserve this luxury of life.

...What had yours?

What had you?

Out of all the base commanders, the medics, the farmers, or children, or any of the other apprentice kids that you sometimes had to work with.

You were here. And they were still trapped inside of that hell.

...You didn't deserve this.

You died. You were on that beach and you died.

You woke up in a coffin, but something told you this wasn't the afterlife.

That something being the blood that you coughed up the other day.

It wasn't from internal bleeding, you k ew that much. Rather, it was from you coughing so hard that something in your throat had ripped.

It really didn't matter. You had spent nearly half an hour in a panic, choking and trying to unclog your airways, while grim and the ghosts you had come to somewhat love, stood behind you, offering what little comfort they could.

It wasn't the first time this happened after all.

You were still bedridden for a good two days after that. Thank God for the weekend.

Time passed in a blur while you were like that. It always did, mostly because you were asleep ninety percent of the time. The other twn being dedicated to medicine and a vain attempt to get food you knew you couldn't stomach to stay down.

So no. This wasn't the afterlife.

It was just a beautiful second chance that you didn't deserve.

It was so confusing.

And this was so confusing.

What..is this weird red thing being handed to you?

Epel looked at you with a hopeful expression on his face. It reminded you of the little girl you used to look after...

You take the..thing.

Glancing over to your right, you watch Ace take a large bite out of it with a smile on his face.

Ok. So not poisonous. Good to know.

You saw Duece do the same thing.

You felt Jack staring at you, but you didn't dare look at him.

[johannestevans]

i wanted to write a BIG essay on disability in House MD but the thing is that as it goes on the show plays and delves with the themes a bit differently - like in s1 they begin to introduce some addict stuff but not too much, and much less of the big grapples with house's own medical agency etc by his friends and coworkers

so i think i'm gonna do an essay series, set up some main themes around disability and autonomy in house

the first things will obviously be about the nature of house's own disability, firstly talking about his physical disability - yes, the lack of mobility from his leg and his reliance on his cane, and also the chronic pain that that comes with, but also specifically noting that house became disabled later in life and was previously extremely physically active

while the themes of house being an addict are extremely overstated because of the us' manufactured opioid crisis and its dehumanisation of addicts due to its racist and eugenicist "war on drugs", it's also noteworthy that he used to exercise all day every day on top of fucking and playing with substances on the side. no one minded this because his "addiction" to exercise was fun and sexy and healthy, bc he was making his own pain-killing substances rather than taking a pill

and then also talking about house's mental health issues - evidence of his autism and the way that people hate specifically his autistic traits, even when they're not actually causing them problems, and the way in which house masks and performs certain emotional responses, but more so like. his depression and his loss of identity as a disabled man, and his difficulties being OKAY with his disability when everyone around him hates disability

so apart from that evidence, the points of house grappling with this stuff will be:

house bonding with other disabled patients - in cases of chronic pain, lost physical mobility, and also mental illness and/or neurodivergence

and house specifically understanding disabled people's perspectives, or thinking about the PRACTICAL needs of the person they're treating or engaging with rather than what society cares about or what the hospital thinks is "appropriate" or "proper"

house bullying abled people for being Weird

times where house makes commentary about the injustice of the system (when he points out that the hospital is designed not to treat the poor, chronically sick, etc)

house being anxious and defensive of his own bodily autonomy (eg when ppl are trying to control his pain management or force him into systems that don't work, take over his medical autonomy, in general try to physically control his behaviours)

esp bc season 1 culminates in the stacy episode where we find that like... so much of house's trauma is not just being disabled

but the fact that stacy OVERRODE his desires, waiting for him to be put into a medically induced coma so that she could make "the best" decision for him and literally being the cause of his current disability. esp bc like...

she specifically went for the middle ground that he rejected, she was NOT a doctor

and in so doing she. invented his chronic pain. like there's a reason that in that same episode, we see the volleyball player who gets an amputation and is able to go back to sports - yes, house is a lot older than that volleyball player, but like

if he had either treated the infarction successfully or just got an amputation so that he could later work with a prostheses, house thinks he would have done much better

and so much of his TERROR around trusting others - not just stacy but wilson, cuddy, anybody else - is because of that. the one person he loved and trusted overrode his desires and created the hell he lives in where he's just in constant agony and he hates it, and the worst part is like

everyone tells him it's his fault. no one cares about what stacy did to him, that she manipulated him. every day they tell house how terrible it is that he does that to others, but when it's what happened to him and he lives in hell, it's on him because he's Mean and Too Autistic and he should just Stop Being In Pain etc

god it kills me.

BUT YEAH i think. season by season is gonna be a lot better to track the development of these themes and the way they shift and change from season to season - also idefk if i'll be able to stick with like. the last three seasons bc they just suck so ba dhfskjjgh

BUT WE'LL SEE

[eazy-peazy54]

My problem with the Will Wood fandom, (a.k.a touch grass, a.k.a stan culture can suck it) (an essay.)

This one is LONG and a DOOZY, so buckle up if you like to read.

just want to clarify, i do NOT hate the will wood fandom in itself. AT ALL. I love you guys (/p)

i just dislike the people who say weird and creepy shit. if that doesnt apply to you, cool! but tell the people who do that shit to knock it off.

NO DISCOURSE IN THE REBLOGS I WILL ATTACK YOU

One HUGE gripe I have with the Will Wood fandom is how some of you guys treat Will Wood like (and this is literally the only way I can put this that isn't too serious) some all-powerful deity of knowledge that you would kill AND die for. In this essay, I will explain why [some of] you are fucking creeps.

Will Wood. Where do I begin. For the very few who are unaware, Will Wood is a singer-songwriter who makes very strange avant garde whatchamacallit evil jazz/swing music. He has been known as Will Wood since 2015, where he released his first album, Everything Is A Lot, under the name Will Wood and the Tapeworms.

Me personally, I first heard of him from the song Dr. Sunshine Is Dead, from the good old days of 2018 animation meme Youtube.

Ever since the inevitable Tiktokification of the song I / Me / Myself, from The Normal Album, the Will Wood fandom has become... well.. full of children. I have no place to speak, of course, because I myself, am a teenager, but I'm talking like. 11-14 year olds.

11-14 year olds who are all fucking INSANE.

Will Wood has been put in what I like to call;

The Holy Trinity.

This being the big three artists who the mentally ill queers (like me) listen to.

Lemon Demon, Tally Hall, and of course, Will Wood.

Being in this holy trinity has both done him good, and bad. On the positive side, yay!! More streams, more plays, more people to appreciate the craft, and more people who like the music! On the negative side, now you have an army of children listening to adult music, interacting with adult music and music videos, who are willing to do ANYTHING to get your attention, because they are young and don't know much better.

And here, stuck in the middle of it all, is poor William.

Stuck as a straight "gay icon," in a sea of twelve year olds.

Well shit.

---

Leading to the second part of my half-essay.

2020. The year shit changed for Will Wood. The Normal Album was released, and people found themselves relating to I / Me / Myself, as stated before. Then this "new," unheard of fandom was kind of birthed upon Tiktok. They were treating him like fucking jesus.

Which is weird.

They were sad, gay, looking for answers, and found them in Will's music. Which is like. Cool!

But when people were saying that he was trans, and then switched up and said he was making fun of trans people?

Yeah. Not that cool actually.

Coming back to the present now, Will has stated how weird these kids are.

In a response from a AMA for In Case I Make It on the official Will Wood subreddit, (I know. Ew, gross, Reddit, but this post was what inspired me to make this in the first place, so,) Will says this:

---

"When I was living in the sticks along the Delaware during the pandemic, I had this weird sort of mystical thing going on inside my head that was trying connect dots in my life and turn meaningless nothing things into signs that I would die.

This was happening around the same time I was dealing with getting actual public attention for the first time, and was living in an area where nobody wore masks, and was living with people who were at risk of serious covid complications if they caught it. Also for most of it I was the dreaded 27, and having been a bit of a junkie in my younger years and an idiot with a barely-treated psychiatric wreck in my brain for most of the ones following it, it was not unlike me to assume I'd die young.

It just seemed too perfect.

As I was dealing with the reception of the normal album (my first truly scathing reviews, I/Me/Myself "discourse," being the subject of conversation on a larger scale) which was beyond what I was prepared for psychologically in terms of its scope and type, my anxious rumination started to veer toward genuine paranoia.

I started thinking that I would die by my own hand or be murdered by one of these crazed Will Wood fans in the dead of night. So I didn't sleep like ever, I lost a bunch of weight and couldn't gain it back for a while, I freaked out a whole bunch and I'm surprised looking back I never lost my sobriety or whatever.

Since it started to look more and more like cosmic fact that I was doomed, I started to feel greater and greater desperation to get out these songs that I had been quietly writing over the previous year or two. Songs I'd written while going through a big breakup and wrestling with rotten parts of me that were finally accessible due to my finally being properly medicated and dealing with the real shit in therapy. And then songs I'd written as I went through these changes."

---

Obviously that is a lot to unpack for a Tumblr essay, but since you’re this far, you probably read it all already.

“Stans,” as most would call them, and “Stan Culture” as a whole, is just a huge wreck. Everyone is always fighting someone. We know this. We all do. Stans scare artists. 

I want you to think. Think of the artists who are inspired by Will Wood. The ones who want to cater out their music to the Will Wood fans. Imagine if you will, those artists seeing that AMA post, seeing the crazed fans, seeing the relentless sexualization, the jokes about serious issues, like Will’s past drug use, seeing all of this and thinking:

“Is it really worth it?

Is it really worth all of this to make music and put myself out there?”

Now, that may make you uncomfortable, but it's the honest truth. And it's happened to so many people, and so many artists. 

---

And now a message to the disgraced kids who managed to latch on to Will Wood’s music.

Treating a musical artist like a god is not gonna help anyone. I’d know. I’ve seen it happen multiple times, to multiple artists. 

I guess what I’m trying to say is think before posting on the internet. Think to yourself; would I say this to the artist's face? Could someone see this and think differently of me? Is this just weird to say in general?

Remember that these people are real people. Will Wood is a real person. With real thoughts. real feelings. a life to live. He's not just some music making machine. He’s not just some silly character. He’s not just some whimsical guy who we can all project onto.

Will Wood is a real person, and everyone should treat him that way. 

Thank you for reading.

(I will edit this essay if I think of anything else to add. That or I'll just reblog it.)

[juletheghoul]

Let Me Follow (Part 6)

AN: Phew! So this was fucking torture. I don't even know how to explain how hard it's been for me lately. Interaction on this site has been abysmal-and while I know we do this for fun, it sort of feels like I'm talking to myself sometimes. It's so hard to not take other people's success personally but I am trying! I have such a clear vision of where this story will go, and I have so much planned that I don't want to give up. I figured the best way to build up my self-esteem, build up my confidence was to go back to how I did it in the beginning, just write, and post. I've done my best to edit this myself, but it hasn't been beta'd. Hopefully, it pays off, enjoy! xo (enjoy the softness before the storm😅)

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) angst, language, age-gap (about 10-11 years, legal, reader is of age), Yearning, post-apocalyptic world, piv sex (wrap it up!), the softest version of this Joel that I've written to date, Grief, panic attack / ptsd / nightmare

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist Series Masterlist

It felt wrong to smile, almost silly. How could anyone smile with how things were in the world? With Johnny gone, with the pounding pain in the back of your head, with the effort and the hunger shredding a hole through your insides—you’d wipe it off your face. Had managed to keep it off for a long time, but then an animal had jumped onto the road and Joel’s arm had shot out in a protective gesture and it had creeped back in. 

“Looks like the rest of the way is on foot.” What had started out as a grinding noise, had quickly turned into dark plumes of smoke from the engine, filling the car with an acrid smell. “Shouldn’t be too far now, few hours.” His scowl was in place, but you saw it differently now–saw it for what it was. A mask, a representation of what this world did to you.

“We can manage that.” Ellie was grabbing her pack, helping Luke with the door before making her way towards the direction Joel pointed you all in. 

“Yes, we can definitely manage that.” You smiled at her, wincing slightly at the way your head pounded. 

“You okay, Sunny?” His hand lands gently on the side of your neck, turning your face towards his. “You can walk, right?” His hand sweeps up, prodding gently at the throbbing goose egg on the back of your head.

“Yeah, I’m okay, my head hurts like a bitch though. Need water soon.” His scowl seems so different now, it’s worry you see there now, instead of anger. He nods once, lingering for a moment before turning and leading the way. Luke doesn’t comment on the exchange, just gives you a small smile and follows Joel, but Ellie; she gives you a toothy grin and a thumbs up. 

Hours pass, thick trees give way to open space. A vast, beautiful landscape stretching out before all of you, seemingly untouched. Everyone is quiet, but alert as you all move closer to your destination. 

“How much longer do you think we have left, Joel?” Ellie is lagging a little bit, the hunger and thirst evident in her voice. 

“Shouldn’t be too much longer.” He turns to look at her, slowing down to let her catch up but he tenses at the sounds of horses just over the ridge in front of you. His gun flies up, but there are too many. Instantly you’re all surrounded by armed people on horseback, twenty people at least. “Get behind me.” He raises his hands in supplication, letting the gun fall onto his shoulder. “We ain’t lookin’ for any trouble, we’re just passin’ through.” 

“Drop the gun.” The person in front of Joel has a rifle pointed at him, a lot of them have guns pointed at the four of you. They have coverings on the lower halves of their faces, the one closest to Joel is yelling, and Joel drops his gun. “You-” He gestures to you, Luke and Ellie. “Take five steps back, separately.” 

“How about we just talk this through-” Joel starts to speak before anyone moves. 

“How ‘bout you shut the fuck up.” The man cuts him off, and gestures to the rest of you. 

“It’s okay, do what he says, we’ll be okay.” You nod at Ellie, moving away from Joel, your own hands up. 

“You been near infected?” The man asks no one in particular. 

“There’s no infected out here.” Joel responds.

“The hell there ain’t!” The man answers before whistling, from somewhere behind them another man emerges with a dog. “Last chance for a bullet, if you’ve been infected, he will smell it, and he will rip you up.” The dog barks, and your heart sinks. Ellie looks to you, big eyes pleading and you take a tentative step towards her, stopping when another of the riders points his gun at you. The dog makes his way over to Joel, sniffing at his feet for a moment before rising up, friendly. 

“Like I said,” Joel calls out. “We’ll just move on.” 

“Now the rest of you.” The man calls out, and the dog sniffs Luke, and then you, moving on lastly to Ellie. Your stomach drops and your hand inches towards the knife in your pocket but after a tense breath, the dog licks Ellie’s hands. You can’t help but take a deep breath in relief. 

“You just bought yourself more seconds.” The man doesn’t lower his gun. “What are you doin’ out here?”

“We’re just lookin’ for my brother, that’s all, nothin’ more.” A woman rides forward at his words, her dark eyes focused intently on Joel’s face. 

“What’s your name?” She asks him. 

“Joel.” He answers, and it’s the magic word. She gestures for them to lower their guns. “Joel Miller, right?” She lowers the covering. 

“Yeah, do I know you?” His voice is thick with confusion. 

“I know Tommy, come on, we’ll lead you to him. Give them a few horses.” She calls out the command to no one in particular, but they rush to obey her nonetheless. 

-

You ride with them, nervously clutching Joel where you sit behind him on the horse they gave him. 

“You’re okay Sunny, just hold on. Don’t squeeze your thighs.” He speaks low and you take a deep breath.

“Sorry, I’m afraid of falling off.” You tighten your grip on him, squeezing tightly around his middle. 

“I won’t let you.” He presses his hand to yours, reassuring you. 

It isn’t long before you arrive at a high wall, with people walking along the top of it. A giant gate is closed to all, until Maria–the woman on the horse gives a signal, and the giant gate opens up for your party. The scene that greets you just inside the gates shocks you into silence. It’s a town, a lively, inhabited, working town. People mill about a central high street, kids play and watch your party move through the street with curiosity instead of fear. 

It’s a lot to take in, working lights and shops seemingly open and in good condition, scaffolding and people repairing things–working together. 

“Tommy!” Joel yells out, startling you and you see one of the men on the scaffolding turn and look, rapidly making his way down while Joel dismounts the horse you’re sharing and runs towards him. It makes you smile to see and hear Joel so happy, to see him find his own brother and it makes you think of Johnny. 

I wish you could have seen this place, Johnny.

–

The food tastes too good to keep any semblance of decorum, instead you shove it into your mouth faster than you can chew it, breathing deeply through your nose in order to fill your belly. Maria and Tommy sit across from the three of you in what was essentially a town cafeteria–Luke had been taken straight to the town doctor and you’d all been assured he’d be fed. 

Joel speaks, Ellie argues, and you keep quiet. Tommy and Maria are an item, and if you had to hazard a guess, Tommy has been less than kind in his description of his older brother. There’s something in the air between them, Maria and Tommy, the two of them versus Joel. A look of judgement in her gaze and it raises your hackles. 

“The house across the street from us is empty, the one next to it too if you wanted your own place–” She looks at you but Joel cuts her off. 

“We stay together. The three of us.” He reaches over, taking your hand in his. Tommy isn’t the only one who’s found someone and it makes your heart soar to have him claim you openly like this. 

“That works.” She smiles politely, Tommy too. “How ‘bout a tour?” Joel nods, and you make your way out, with a full belly and a full heart.

-

The town is well and truly a marvel, the culmination of hard work, strategic location and the well oiled machine that is their patrol. They’ve managed to rebuild a functioning, safe town; full of most of the comforts the world had had before, only on a much smaller scale. You keep quiet as she guides the three of you through their little corner of normalcy, unable to stop yourself from noting where all of the supplies are kept, where the food stores are, how many horses are in the stable. 

There’s a tense energy flowing between Joel and Tommy, something unspoken in the air, an anger, a resentment and you can’t exactly blame Joel for his share of it. His brother has been here, safe and happy, with a purpose–content to leave his brother in the dark in order to protect what they have here. You can almost understand why, there’s something else though, something in the way Maria watches Joel that plants a seed of suspicion in your brain. Your suspicion deepens and if you had to hazard a guess, he’s told her some unsavoury things about the man you’d come to–what, love? The thought is sobering, you push it away. 

Maria suggests showing you where you’ll be staying, mentions getting cleaned up while she moves away from them, gesturing for the two of you to follow, and with a nod from Joel, you do.

-

The house was furnished from before, everything old and a bit dusty, but otherwise in good condition. Relatively clean, working lights, a hot shower. Heaven. You stay in there a little longer than necessary, too content in the warmth of the water to make it as quick as you’d planned. Your little trailer–although having served as an oasis by today’s standards–didn’t hold a fucking candle to this. 

You smile to yourself, picturing Joel melting in the warmth, his handsome face tipped back in unadulterated joy. It almost made you regret not waiting for him, almost. That first time Johnny had rigged up the trailer to catch rainwater and figured out a way to somehow connect the whole thing to a powersource and heat it, that same feeling coursed through you now as the steam filled the ensuite, only now it was painted with a bittersweet brush. You’d gotten good at pushing away thoughts of Johnny and what could have possibly–probably–happened to him, and you did it again now. You forced his breezy smile, his dumb jokes, the comforting piece of home that he’d been out of your mind and focused on getting clean. 

Maria had left some clothing for the three of you in the house, doing a remarkably accurate job at guessing what would fit and once dressed, Ellie had run out of the house, itching to explore. It served you well enough. It gave you time to rest and to regroup. It gave you a chance to think about exactly what it was you wanted to do now that something like this was an option. 

—

The house looks normal, really normal. Not just the normal he’s had to adjust the definition of the word to over the last twenty years, either. It’s just a house. It’s just a suburb, just a neighbourhood relatively untouched, by the ravages of the last two decades. A two-story home with good bones, a home he imagined could be stable for him, for Sarah. 

The thought of her forces the air out of his chest, punches it out of him with the force of a gunshot. He hadn’t let himself think about her in so long that it shakes him, freezes him where he stands on the porch like some sort of statue. It had been twenty years since he’d lost her, and yet he can still smell her hair in his nose, can still feel the weight of her in his arms, can still hear the sound of her voice and it breaks his heart all over again. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and lets the anger, and the hurt, the rage of his monumental loss pass engulf him.

His heart pounds in his chest, the blood it beats booming like a drum in his ears. His vision blurs as he stands there, terrified and bewildered, swaying as though caught in a massive wave and struggling to breathe. His hand shoots out and he braces himself against the wall of the house. He focuses on the brick under his hand, the grit of it digging into his palm. 

Breathe Joel, breathe. 

His lungs fill with air. 

In. Out. Repeat.

His vision eventually clears as he catches his breath, the pounding in his ears lessens and he finally feels like he can move his legs and after a few more steadying breaths, he leaves whatever the episode was, and the memory of his daughter on the porch. 

—

He groans as he makes his way up the stairs and you can’t help but smile, anticipation and excitement and a whole bunch of feelings you can’t, or maybe won’t name swirling in your gut as you wait for him to find you. The scowl is there when he finally opens the right door, his eyes burning into yours but there’s something else there too. 

“Everything okay?” You sit up at the sight of him, pale and no doubt clammy by the looks of him, “Did something happen?” The fear doesn’t creep, it slams into you. 

“No no, everythin’s okay. Just tired.” His eyes soften, but only a little. “You look…cozy.” He raises an eyebrow at finding you in bed, quite obviously cleaned up and relaxing. “Shower working?” 

“Yes, I am very comfortable. It’s a real bed, Joel—real blankets and a real house… lights and hot water.” You can’t help but gush, and smile and kneel up to speak to him, “go, go shower and get clean. Maria brought us some clothes, here—“ you all but crawl out of the bed and rush over to the dresser, grab him a towel and soft sleep things, hurrying to shove them into his hands. 

“Hold your horses, girl—where’s Ellie?” He quirks his head, listening for her.

“She’s fine, in the bedroom down the hall, she was passed out when I checked in on her about an hour ago. Now go! Get clean, mister.”

“Okay okay, Sunny, I’m goin’.” Both his tone and his smile are soft, “be right back.” He grumbles halfheartedly, but does what you ask all the same. 

He takes just as long as you thought he might, the hot water and steam casting its spell on him, just as it had on you. 

“Jesus Christ,” He looks so much softer than you’ve ever seen him, standing at the door in a loose shirt and some boxer shorts, holding his dirty pile of rags, “that was the best shower I’ve taken in years.” He sets down the pile before making his way over to the bed. 

“Life Changing, truly.” You smile up at him, giddy at the thought of having him here, safe and protected, in a real bed. “I had almost forgotten what it was like.” You move in a little closer as you speak, itching to snuggle up to him, but keeping your distance all the same. Despite his kiss, his open declaration in the dining hall, it wasn’t easy to forget being pushed away.

“The little setup you had was pretty good.” He must see the doubt, must see the way your fingers twitch with want and he makes the first move, pulling the blanket up and opening his arms. You crawl into his embrace with a toothy grin.

“Nowhere near as good as this.” You bury your face into the skin of his neck and inhale, eyes rolling into the back of your head when his clean scent hits you, “God, I love soap.” You all but moan it into his neck and he laughs, a genuine, deep rumble that fills your heart with something.

“Yeah I bet you do, I’m sorry about the state of me before. You smell pretty great yourself.” He wraps himself closer too, skimming his nose along any inch of skin he can reach and it’s almost as if the world outside doesn’t exist. This is the only thing that matters. Him, you, this bed—Ellie, safe in her room. 

“I scrubbed a lot, l probably took off a few layers of skin.” You run your fingers through his hair, basking in the feeling of his touch, basking in his voice and the soft caress of his breath against your skin. Ignoring the tiny little voice that warns he might change his mind later.

Stop that, just enjoy a good fucking thing here.

You scold yourself, bringing your focus back to him.

“Me too, reckon I needed it, bad.” His hands move from your back, up to your skull and you wince when he touches the goose egg. “Still hurts? I should go find Tommy, see if he’s got any painkillers for you.” He almost goes to move away and while your heart sings at his readiness to leave the comfort of this to take away your pain, your fingers dig into his back and hold.  

“Don’t you dare.” He laughs, and gets back into place.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll do it in the morning.” He takes another look at where you’d been hurt before tucking you close, and pulling the blanket up over you both. “It feels so strange to lay here, almost normal.” 

“I know, it’s almost too weird.” Your leg lifts of its own accord and hooks over his middle, “I have my knife on the nightstand beside me, but I almost feel like I should have it under my pillow.”

“I know what you mean, been livin’ in fear a long time. That doesn’t just go away after a hot shower and a good meal.” His hand comes down and holds onto your thigh, as though you’d both done this a million times, you smile into his neck. 

“Can we stay here?” The question has been there all day, burning a hole in the back of your brain and into the tip of your tongue, “Do you want to stay here?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t even know what I’d do with myself here.” You bite your lip at his admission, “If you wanted to, I would. I’d go wherever you go.” His tone is soft again, his eyes averted and you can see it’s hard for him to admit that out loud. “I know I’m hard to be around sometimes, but I’m tryin’.” His hand sweeps up your thigh as he speaks, giving himself something to focus on, ground himself with.

“I know, Joely. I can see it.” You lean in and kiss his cheek, pressing yourself closer to him, pushing past the lump in your throat to speak. “Once Ellie does what she needs to do, we can all live here.”

“We’ll have to see how that goes, her and the fireflies.” He says nothing more, and you leave it there.

A yawn slips out and before you’ve even finished, he’s reaching over and turning off the light on his side. His arms, the soft sweep of his hands on your skin, his voice in your ear and his lips at your temple all work their magic and lull you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

His whole body twitches, and that’s what wakes you up, bleary eyed and half terrified. You barely have time to rub at your eye with the heel of your hand before he’s moving again, his head jerking side to side and you call to him, but he doesn’t hear you.

“Joel, wake up,” you put your hand on his shoulder, softly, “Joel!” 

He lurches forward violently, his arms flailing in the darkness and you know he’s still in the nightmare, the terror bleeding through into reality for a moment before he realizes where he is. 

“It was just a bad dream,” you reassure him, keeping your voice soft and calm, “you’re okay, come.” You open your arms to him and even though he’s awake, he still takes a few deep breaths before moving. Whatever he’d dreamt, it had been bad. He breathes hard as he settles beside you, the sheen of terror shining on the parts of his face illuminated by the moon filtering into the room. “Do you want to talk about it?” You run your fingers through his hair, doing your best to soothe him. 

“I–” He frowns, opening his mouth, then closing it, and repeating the action a couple of times before answering again, “It’s just, everythin’.” He lets go of a big breath, and melts into the bed, melts into you. “I just, I dreamt somethin’ bad happened–I think. I don’t even know anymore.” his breath fans across your skin as he speaks, raising goosebumps in its wake.

“I get it,” You press your lips to his neck, “Happens to me too, sometimes.” 

The novelty of this moment isn’t lost on you, the stark contrast between when you first met and now would have been unbelievable to you back then.  

“First night in a real bed, and this is what happens.” He scoffs in the dark. The words are meant to be light, but he can’t hide the annoyance threaded in the tone.  

“Well, we could take advantage,” your thumb brushes against the plump of his lower lip, but you don’t push it further, “what do you think?” He almost doesn’t let you finish your sentence, instead his mouth presses against yours, forestalling any further conversation, and filling your stomach with butterflies. 

It’s almost embarrassing how fast your body responds to him, the trail his hands leave across your skin like an electric current. His palm skates up under the loose shirt and finds the weight of your breast, his thumb brushing over the stiff peak in sync with the groan he feeds directly into your mouth. You scramble to get closer, feeling the frantic energy in his hands and matching it.

It feels so fast, feels like just a moment before you’d been sleeping and not clamouring to eat each other alive. But it also feels so slow, like no matter how hard you both breathe one another in, no matter how quickly you rip off each other's layers, you cannot get close enough, fast enough.

It’s then that the realization hits you. There, on the edge of this bed that isn’t yours, but could be. It’s there when the layers are finally fucking gone, when your mouths are fused together but barely moving, when you’re finally fully seated and your aching pussy is stretched around the thickness of him. 

I love you.

His forehead rests against yours while you sit on him, snug, and tight, and wet. The two of you sharing each other's breath, the nightmare forgotten, or most likely repressed. You try to shoo the thought away and focus on the way he feels, on the way he fills you so perfectly. You focus on the hands that hold onto your ass, on the broken moans he breathes onto your skin.

God, I love you.

It pops up again, unbidden and you frown to yourself, trying again to focus on him. 

“What’s wrong baby?” His eyes are on you now, his frown a mixture of pleasure and worry. “Am I hurtin’ you?” He holds your chin so tenderly, it makes your heart ache.

“No, Joely, it feels so good.” You kiss him, relishing in the fact that you can, but it isn’t enough because he pulls away for a moment.

“You sure?” He cradles your face in his big hands and it’s a double edged sword. It’s everything you never thought you’d have, it’s comfort and belonging, but it’s also a void. A black hole you could fall into, and never crawl out of. It’s a weakness, a stupid, wreckless risk that this world no longer seems to have any space for. You can see it, the black pit of despair in his eyes, the trust and gamble it is to love another person and it shifts like the colours of an oil slick stain on concrete when it rains. From terrifying, to beautiful. 

“I’m okay, I promise.” You press a soft kiss to his mouth again, and lie to both him, and yourself.

---

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[artisplatters]

GENLOSS ANALYSIS TIME

Spoilers ahead, go watch the vid if you havent already

Also I'm writing this as I'm watching it so don't mind any inconsistancies too badly

Episode 1: Spirit of the Cabin

So right off the bat we have confirmation that the ingredients Ran was being made to cook (and Charlie being made to eat) are actually various organs and flesh bits.

Actually, maybe this was already confirmed but I don't remember there being flash-backs in the original, but then again i only learned how to move frame-by-frame recently (like... today)

And then that explains Charlie's hesitance in eating the dish! He's still under mind control but its some crazy cool resistance that he was able to put it off as long as he did.

And when Ran's mask is flashing we now can hear soundbits from later on in the experiments, from whenever he's not under control, an audio testament that they've been through this multiple times like a loop. Which yeah, we already were told that when the mask lights its because he's receiving memories again, but we (or at least, I) didn't know the memories were of the exact events shown in the episodes.

My only question at the moment in regard to that is that, everyone killed was definitely, irl, actually for-real killed (in universe), so how are they brought back to do it again? Clones? Future resuscitation tech?Are they just conscious corpses being puppeted around like some sorta sick marionette show?

And Sneeg, oh Sneeg, the way he was made to stand so rigidly while Ran was asleep, couldn't even move or sit, just looking around frantically. I wonder if he was made to feel like it had actually been 8 hours. I wouldn't put it past Showfall Media.

Episode 2: The Mastermind of the Warehouse

So, it seems like they cut out the Mastermind's little bit of a freakout when he gave Ran "a little bit of juice" that almost killed them, they also made it look like Ran's recovery from it was much quicker. Makes me curious, but I guess they don't want any of the audience thinking the "villain" is just as scared and unwilling as the heroes yet.

Though with how blunt they are with the other murderous torturous stuff, I'm surprised thats one of the things they chose to cover up.

Speaking of which, the surgery section.

God, the surgery section.

Also sped through a bit, understandably, but that cut away to the security camera where he's just screaming in agony.

It hits way harder like that oh my god. Oh my fucking god.

Charlie is an absolutely insane actor.

Onto the Carousel! Which, by the way, the animation blips have been so fun and they are so well done, amazing work on the animation team's part.

OHHH WHEN SNEEG GETS HIS HAT BACK HE GETS FLASHBACKS TO THE CABIN

You see him freak out at remembering but him trying to keep his composure, UGH such good acting. And him saying he needed to go to the bathroom so he can try to escape, still can't believe that almost worked.

But when they catch him with the mask? So much fucking creepier somehow. Everything went dead silent and froze, and even though his body is compliant you can see the anger and fear in his mind. Also felt like that lasted longer than before.

And then how everyone just snaps back and gets into "acting" again, also super fucking creepy. Insanely well executed.

now, skipping forward to after Nikki's death, when Ran goes through the door after the Mastermind... FACTORY RESET? It says factory reset? How far back does that take Ran? They seem to still remember what they had been through so what exactly is it resetting?

I dont remember the slimetowel segment at all, I feel like it was added. Though that would be the nature of generation loss, not being able to tell what was added and taken away.

Episode 3: The Choice

Oh boy here we are again

The transition being in the style of one of those "classified document" videos is a great touch, cuz it does go "off-script" here supposedly, though we all know thats not the actual case.

Ran trying to talk to the camera people still breaks my heart, they're not in control all they can do is film.

Also, can't believe I ever thought Hetch was a good guy after hearing "You aren't supposed to leave yet" and then the blatant lie that everyone is still alive. Like I never trusted him to begin with but he seemed about as trustworthy as everyone else thats under control.

The way Hetch talks about the company makes it sound like its some sort of eldritch entity, rather than a business conglomerate. And who's to say it isn't, with how it's "repurposed" and "recycled" literal human beings, turning them into brainless automatons. Also the cut to Charlie's stream startled me lol.

Aw man, the music/heartbeat/ringing drowning out Charlie's voice after they find Hetch and get the map. Incredible way of showing Ran's mental shock.

Ȩ̵̏p̵̬͊ị̶̼̋s̷̺͝ö̶̪́̒d̷̹͉̓̑ȇ̶͚͓̀ ̷̤͛͝3̶̨̥̾:̶̥̌ ̵̱̫̔Ṭ̶̺́h̴͔͑̈́ḙ̸̻̅ ̵̱̉̂H̸̞̄e̶̬̠̎͐ṟ̸̜́̾o̶̳͊͝

Ough

Still hurts

The change I've noticed here is that we start zoomed in on Ran's face, whereas I think before we could see the whole scene from the start, Hetch, all of it.

And WOAH, the flashes of the photos before the announcement? Are those all photos of them when they were kids? thats such an amazingly disturbing detail.

Another disturbing detail, the zoom-in and silence following the box closing, showing all the blood pouring out. Horrifying. Not even any music or anything while the credits roll. Really lets the audience sit in what just happened.

The Therapy Sequence

I'm calling it the Therapy Sequence based on how the dialogue sounds, though it very much could be psychology or something else.

This Ms. Roads Character is new, I believe

She's been having "vivid, scary dreams" and says to call her Zero, which ha ha pun but also kinda sad. Zero Roads is a kind of hopeless sounding name.

And then, in the unlisted vid, its the Founder giving us the tape of the social experiments.

"Its your experiments now"

I hope people who are able to afford to buy the tapes will share it's contents with the rest of the community. "Communication is Key" and yada yada.

I have no doubts that there's more secrets to be found within.

Final Notes

I'm so fucking proud of Ranboo, oh my god

This story that they're weaving continues to amaze and inspire me, its so incredible that he's gotten to create this.

I'm so excited for what happens next.

[agent-calivide]

It is Bitching About Things That Do Not Matter O'Clock, but like. I know poking fun at John Juniper is a delight. I love calling him a bitch and insulting his acting and stealing his masks, but- he's not- he's not completely incompetent, y'all know that, right?

Firstly, Zor would never hire someone they didn't think could do the job, but also a lot of Juniper's fuck-up's are directly tied to either the EOD getting lucky or Zor literally setting him up for failure.

Like, we know he's good at keeping a mask on even in a moment of panic, when the Masque of Red Death blew up the first thing the did was shout "This is not part of the show, everybody run!" to evacuate the theater, something to convince the public he was a Good Man and kept suspicions around him low.

On Jet Set, the only reason Phoenix doesn't die is the EOD getting lucky and happening to have the autonomous jet's instruction manual in their records. Like, he had signal jammers, he left on the DNA Identification security system, and he sabotaged the missile defense system just in case they had to turn to plan B. These are not things left on a jet made as a custom trap for Phoenix, the pieces to save themselves wouldn't be there if it was. This is a normal jet that Juniper uses that he ensured got sabotaged so the Phoenix would be a sitting duck. Even if he didn't personally put out orders to have the jet get sabotaged, he did have the foresight to put a few boons on the jet that could kill Phoenix. Explosive cigars, poisoned food things like that. "Please, enjoy! I picked up a box of those just for you!" So he knows what to supply the agent with to try and cut this little problem short, and even if those don't work there's still the missile and the Zoraxis base they were headed to anyways. Phoenix getting out of that mess was combination of nosiness and pure dumb luck on the EOD's part.

We don't see much of him in Eaves Drop, but we do see that Zor and Fabricator are already planning on disposing of him by using the Mimic Mask and that he is generally doing a damn good job at tricking the heads of state into various traps for the most part, we just saw it with the Prime Minister in Stage Fright and we're going to see it in Party Crashers with the Primere later.

Party Crashers is where I think most of this "Oh, he's just a whiny baby" comes from, and it absolutely is John at his worst, but it get treated like his baseline??? Like, he loses his cool, he screams, he panics, he absolutely freaks out, but he also is throwing a party to kidnap the last head of state, is being chastised by the Fabricator, his friend of multiple decades is backstabbing him actively (as Gibbs should, but it's just another stressor for Juniper), several bombs have dropped or his party got a smoke grenade thrown in it, alarms and sprinklers have both gone off, and nOW SOMEONE'S TOUCHING MY FUCKING COLLECTOR'S ITEMS?! I too would be losing my shit. Add in he is seeming surrounded by people being incompetent (throwing grenades without closing hatches, missing their shots, some reason the tank of lethal gas is empty, the woman who was supposed to be helping is just laughing at you and your entire team of security is dead save for a small handful and it's all because of ONE person???) and I can't blame him for not being chill, suave, or particularly clever in that moment. And to be frank, I think every IEYTD "Final Boss" has a moment of foolishness. Solaris throws you radiation boxes that you use to take down the Death Engine and literally says "Calculating force... aaand CATCH!" and I could make a whole other post on Prism's speech on the mountain side but they're not defined by those "worst" moments. Mostly because they don't last nearly as long as Juniper's, but that doesn't mean it should be his defining moment either.

Then, in Safe and Sound, not only does he successfully trick the agent into thinking he's the Handler in the first place, but he has them drugged, kidnaps them, and then admits that if he had it this way he would have just shot the agent. No fanfare, no crazy traps, if John coulda, he would have shot the agent in the head while they were unconscious and called it a day. But Zor is the one who wants the trap, the footage, the fanfare. Juniper is pissed that the jet didn't work as is, and now he can't even just take care of the agent the easy way and ensure that they're out of the way. He says he expects the agent to find a way out, he know what they're capable of, and he's sure they're gonna find a way out because he's the one that's been dealing with them for the last week! Zor is the one who thinks this trap is gonna work and demanded Juniper put Phoenix in it. Yeah he gives a theatrical monologue, but if he had say in the matter he wouldn't get the chance to in the first place!

Then in Rising Phoenix, HE MAKES GOOD ON THAT THREAT. Try to pick up anything that you dropped on the ground outside of the elevator, tell me how that goes for you. He's got scary good aim, he sees the Phoenix and immediately goes "well, shit, one sec folks, I gotta kill this agent" and then just pulls a gun and starts firing. And rather than focusing on the agent, he does have the foresight to shoot a MOVING, FLOATING TARGET so you can't do anything to him! He is very capable with a gun and likely the only reason Phoenix survives Party Crashers is Juniper doesn't have a firearm. And then, in a moment of panic as he hangs from a catwalk (that absolutely should not have had its powerbox so obviously out in the open if Zor wasn't planning on the agent either killing him or putting him in a position for Zor to pull the trigger) he tries to plead with the agent. He doesn't know the mask is a death trap at this point, and the only choice he has is to hope the person in the room with him can help pull him back up from the pit. He puffs up his chest, acts like he has all of the cards, but that's because that's the only chance he's got of making it out of this thing alive. He doesn't know the mask is what's gonna kill him in the end, he just knows that the Fabricator, the crazy lady who makes death traps for fun, has something in the room with him and that Zor intends on using it to finish John off.

And once John's toast literally Zor just shakes their head and mockingly calls him a disappointment before turning to Phoenix and saying it's in their hands now. But the entire time that Phoenix is working on this briefcase, Zor is teasing them, toying with them, and is audibly disappointed if you fail to disarm the briefcase in time. Phoenix was supposed to get the briefcase, John was supposed to die, and he really was implied to be doomed from the very beginning.

He's not a whining, screaming, incompetent bumbling idiot. He is very capable, he is literally just set up to fail so Zor can see Phoenix perform.

Edit: just for clarification, I do think he’s rather petulant, bitchy, he can be whiny, he’s an absolute douche, and what he did in that cellar is nothing short of a tantrum, my point is just that he isn’t a completely incompetent man baby. He knows what he’s doing and in at least one situation had more sense than Zor (Safe and Sound).

[gemini-sensei]

Part Two of this Post - inspired by @sensei-venus CW: angst, bully targeting weight and body image, slapping, and crying.

What if after thinking about her best friends (secret crushes) so much, Reader can't finish the movie. But instead of dragging herself to her room, she decides to go to the party. She knows where it's being held, it isn't that far from her house. She's still in her costume...

Before much more thought can be put into the idea, she finds herself walking down the street. She's three houses down when she hears the music and sees all of the cars lining the road.

There are people in costumes coming in and out of the place, laughing and drinking and having a good time. No one questions her as she makes her way up to the door or when she walks inside. She wasn't invited but no one stops her from joining. It's loud and there are lights flashing and people dancing. The house itself is already a wreck, but no one cares. Everyone is having fun.

She mills around the place, seeing people she recognizes and others she doesn't. Kids from other schools have shown up to drink and eat food and hook up with people. That's what parties are for, right? So what the Hell am I doing here?

It isn't long before someone in a devil's mask stops her. He jumps out and scares her, laughing at her reaction. She tries to shrug it off with a scoff, but the guy is jeering at her. And she knows that voice. It's tormented her for years.

Kyler lifts the mask and laughs in her face. He points at her. "Ay yo, you shoulda seen the look on your face! You looked like you were about to shit yourself!"

"You're so gross," she tells him, shaking her head. She tries to walk around him so she can ignore him for the rest of the party - she might just go home. But he stops her by blocking her path.

"Hey, wait wait wait, what are you supposed to be, a witch?" he asked, checking out her outfit. He snickers and she knows an insult is coming. "More like a fat bitch!"

It shouldn't hurt anymore, she's been through it a million times before. At least that's what she thinks, that she shouldn't be affected by it anymore, but the tears spring up anyway. She tries to wipe them away before Kyler can see them, but he does and he starts laughing.

"Aw, c'mon don't be a baby, Reader. You're always so soft," he mocked, poking her doughy stomach. She recoils from him, but he just keeps jeering her, tormenting her like the perpetual child that he was. "Y'know, if you lost some weight you might look half decent. I might even sleep if you."

She let out a wretched noise between a scoff and a sob. "Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment?"

"You should want to sleep with me," he says smugly. "No one else is going to want to since you're such a pig."

She slaps him across the face, fed up with his bullshit. She cries hard, letting out the pain and frustration. As he holds his cheek and looks up at her, she backhands him to get a good hit on his other cheek. One of the rings she wore to go with her costume caught his skin and cut his face, a little blood trickling down his cheek.

"Go fuck yourself," she spit at him and turned to leave.

People who just witnessed the awful things he said to her and her retaliation move out of her way. No one offers to drive her home, only watching the tears streak down her face. It only makes her feel worse, opening her eyes to the fact that she actually came to the party friendless and alone. It sucks.

She gets halfway across the lawn when she hears someone running after her. "Reader! Wait!"

She doesn't know why she stops, but she does. She turns to find another masked figure following her. He's wearing a Jason Voorhees costume and carrying a prop machete. It's dark in front of the house, with all of the lights and action going on inside or in the backyard and anyone else would have a problem seeing who it is.

He stops in front of her.

"What do you want, Eli?"

"How'd you know it was me?" he asks, pulling the mask up. He looks at her tear-streaked and sad face.

She gestures to his costume. "You have a pattern with Halloween costumes. I didn't expect you to stray away from that. It doesn't matter, though. You can go back to your party."

She turns to leave, but he takes her hand into his, stopping her.

"You don't have to leave. You-"

"No, no it's fine. I don't even know why I came to this stupid party." She pulls her hand away from him. She wipes her eyes but the tears keep falling. "I don't know what I expected. This isn't some stupid movie where I can come to a cool party and things get magically fixed between us. So I'm going home. Don't stop me."

And he doesn't. He watched her walk down the sidewalk, unsure of what to do. He feels the tear in his heart reopen, or maybe it had never healed at all, but he can't deny how much he misses her. He slips his mask back down and hides the tear that falls down his cheek.

Reader cries on the walk home, pushing herself into her house when she arrives. She breaks down, running up to her room to hide from the world.

Maybe she should have just gone to bed to begin with...